Thursday December 26th, 2024 2:00AM

Don Rickles was one of a kind ...

By Bill Wilson Reporter

I’ve spent many a late night with Don Rickles.  Well, maybe I need to back up a bit.

 

Since my mid to late 40s, insomnia has become a recurrent problem with me.  I find that the best solution is not to toss and turn or stare at the ceiling, but to get up and take a hot bath and soak for at least an hour.  And for the last several years, my iPhone keeps me company with Don Rickles videos on YouTube.

 

When we lost Don this past week, a certain type of comedy became extinct.  I know that Jeffrey Ross and Gilbert Gottfried and their ilk are still out there … there are a few remaining “insult comics” still hitting the nightclub circuit.  But Joan Rivers and Don Rickles were fearless … two of a kind, and I doubt that our society will ever allow their breed to come into being again.  We’ve gotten too thin-skinned as a people.

 

Look no further than Facebook and see how far our sense of humor has fallen.  Oh yes, there are plenty of memes talking about our “Cheetoh-skinned president,” or the latest Hillary Clinton death tally … and the one about Betty White “dyeing peacefully at home” rears its head now and again.  But there’s no guts to our humor anymore.  We are so frightfully afraid of offending anyone that we offend NO one, and thus challenge no one.

 

Rickles’ genius was that he both hated and loved everyone at the same time.  John Landis made a marvelous documentary several years ago entitled “Mr. Warmth: the Don Rickles Project.”  It offers viewers a rare inside look at a Don Rickles Vegas performance, and we see Don fearlessly pick on the heavy and skinny, ethnic groups of ALL types … and the absolute abject glee on the face of all of his victims.  Because as an audience, we saw through the act.  We saw the genuine affection that Rickles had for ALL people, and his understanding that we all needed an opportunity to laugh hard and to laugh loud at material we shouldn’t be proud to find funny.

 

A search on YouTube yields a treasure trove of Rickles material, much of it on late night television, and the best with Johnny Carson.  The clip of Johnny at a geisha bath is there, with Don making an unexpected appearance, filling in for one of the geishas pleading with Johnny … “Please … I’m so lonely,” before Johnny gets up and tosses Rickles, fully-clothed, into an adjacent tub.

 

Another favorite of mine is from the golden age of “The Tonight Show.”  Remember when the guests never left the stage?  They’d just move down a chair to make room for the next contestant?  A memorable clip from the mid 70s shows Rickles vacate to make room for Michael Landon, and with Johnny’s unspoken permission, Don takes over the interview.  Unperturbed, Landon zings Rickles, and no one is more delighted than Mr. Warmth.  These are the true, genuine Don Rickles moments … when HE’S the butt of the joke, and he laughs harder and longer than anyone.

 

The other Don that I like to remember is the one who talks about how pleased he is to be the voice of Mr. Potato Head in the “Toy Story” franchise, because it means so much to his grandchildren.  You’ll find some of this in the Landis film which is streaming on Netflix.

 

Last year, Time-Life released a wonderful Don Rickles package, including several of his network specials from the 70s and the complete run of the closest thing he ever had to a hit television series, “CPO Sharkey,” which ran for a season and a half.  The specials show the experimental side of Don … not completely funny, but daringly inventive and dramatic.  Rickles was a trained actor, having studied the art after leaving the Navy.  Endlessly surprising as a performer, among his sitcom credits, you’ll also find dramatic work on “I Spy,” “The Twilight Zone” and “The Wild Wild West.”

 

What I’ll miss the most about Don is his disdain of his talk show host buddies.  “Your wife, Barbara,” Jimmy Kimmel would say, and Don would shoot back, “I know who my wife is!”  I’ll miss him touching pinkies with Johnny Carson and embracing Ed McMahon with a bear hug.  I’ll miss the bullfighter music played by the band as he makes his entrance.  Thanks for all the laughs, Don.  Godspeed, and say “hey” to Frank, Sammy, Johnny and the rest of the boys.

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