Photograph by Nancy Kaszerman/ZUMA/CORBIS
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Family Crystal
By Alvin Sanoff, March-April 2004
Forget the Yankees, the Oscars, and his horse, Beechnut. What comic Billy Crystal really loves is being a grandpa.
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What used to be a wise-guy smirk has these days softened to a friendly
smile. The eyes, once seemingly stuck in a perpetual "who're you
tryin' to kid" squint, seem more wide with wonderment. Indeed,
relaxing in his production office in a sleek glass building at the edge of
Beverly Hills, Billy Crystal seems to have aged backward, going from a young
smart aleck to a 56-year-old innocent.
Maybe it's because the star of City Slickers and When Harry
Met Sally... has finally grown into an age he's comfortable with. He talks
reverently about his grandparents, parents, an elderly uncle. Displayed on a
table are pictures of comic heroes: George Burns and Jack Benny. And his love
for baseball is confirmed by a glove used years ago by Mickey Mantle that he
bought at auction for $239,000.
Even his legendary Saturday Night Live characters reflect old
Hollywood: the smarmy Latin lover Fernando ("You look MAH-velous!")
was partly based on Fernando Lamas, while his dead-on Sammy Davis Jr. was a
loving lampoon of a bygone show-biz generation. And it's no secret that the
Academy of Motion Pictures adores the eight-time Oscars host in large part
because of his enduring respect for the people who make the movies.
Comedians are famously edgy in interviews, but from the moment we meet,
Crystal is refreshingly warm and friendly. His references to Janice, his wife
of more than three decades, and his adult daughters, Jenny and Lindsay, are
positively sweet. And he's over-the-moon for the new love of his life, his
infant granddaughter, Ella, for whom he wrote his new children's book, I
Already Know I Love You (HarperCollins 2004).
Q: What prompted you to write the book?
A: I was so excited from the minute that I heard my daughter Jenny was
pregnant. She looked so much like her mother did when she was pregnant. I'm
just incredibly moved about this whole new period of my life.
As she started to show more and more, I'd put my hand on her
belly—that was okay with her—and say, "I'm waiting for
you." And one day, I said, "Geez, why don't I go home and write
this?"
Q: At the time, you didn't know whether your grandchild would be a
boy or a girl?
I didn't know until she was born. I wrote that I don't know if
I'm buying ballet shoes or hockey skates. Or is it a baseball glove? The
line that I think summed it up: "I'm waiting to read your poems and
get post cards from afar. I can't believe I'm writing this, because I
don't know who you are." I love that my daughter and son-in-law chose
not to know the sex of the baby beforehand, because it's one of life's
last great surprises.
Q: Have you begun to spoil her?
That started beforehand. The baby has filled up a great place for me
that's been sad for a couple of years now because of the loss of my mom. I
also understand better how life works—unfortunately, some of us have to
leave to make more room for somebody else.
Q: Do you see yourself entering a new phase of life, maybe with new
material?
Oh, that's for sure. You know how grandpas are supposed to be. I'm a
very young, feeling, vital guy—not the image of the bent-over guy in the
rocker. I'll have fun, like Cosby did. I'm going to talk about this.
It's my life.
Q: Are you basically a softie?
I've always been that way, and been criticized for it in some of my
work. I never quite understood when people would say, "Oh, it's too
schmaltzy." I get paid for being a skeptic. I get paid to be cynical. But
that's not who I am.
Q: Whoever you are, it seems to work for the Oscars.
I like making a tough audience laugh. They are tough. The first five or six
rows are all the nominees. They're in uncomfortable clothes. The lights are
on. There's cameras roaming through. For them, there's so much on the
line that to come out and distract them for a while, and get good laughs out of
them, with all that working against you, it's a real challenge. I enjoy
it.
Q: Is it true that you carry a toothbrush in your tuxedo on Oscar
night?
The toothbrush happened because when I was a kid, the Oscars were on so late
I couldn't watch the whole thing. I'd go into the bathroom and pick up
the toothbrush and make my Oscar speech and thank all the little people. One
night, before I went on stage for the Oscars, I had a toothbrush in my hand. I
just put it in my pocket to make me remember why I came. It felt like home all
over again. The approach I've always had is to make people feel
comfortable, like in my house. That's where it all started for me. And it
just grounds me.
Q: What do you mean, that's where it all started?
My two older brothers and I would always perform for my
relatives—there were so many of them. The center of the house was my
grandparents. When you walked into that living room—the charisma of all
these people, the joy. There was the food and then the show. And the show was
always the three of us. My oldest brother, Joel, was extremely funny. He's
a retired schoolteacher, and a great wit. My middle brother, Richard, who is
now a television producer for the Animal Planet, also sings. Now, when he has
time, he's out there in a trio singing jazz.
Q: What impact did your parents have?
My mother was tremendously funny, strong, very much a performer. My
father—I was 15 when he died—was very witty. A very smart man. He
fell in love with jazz and went into the family business and managed the
Commodore Music Shop, which was a legendary place in Manhattan, and produced
great jazz concerts. He was a quiet, loving guy who pointed us comedically in
the right direction. He'd bring home funny albums, really tasty stuff like
Nichols and May. He'd let me stay up late to watch Sid Caesar and Jonathan
Winters. His way with us was great. His legacy is tremendous.
Q: Who are your icons among older comedians?
Jack Benny is one. I hate to say Bill Cosby, because he'll get mad at
being described as a member of the older generation. But he is two steps older
than me. Bill is just phenomenal. Robin Williams and I went to see him recently
in New York. He came out in a sweat suit, sat down in a chair, and did two
hours. We labor over a sentence, but he was up there wailing away. It was like
silk.
Q: What about today's crop of comedians?
Chris Rock, Jerry Seinfeld, Ray Romano—they're terrific. And I
love watching Robin. He's my closest friend in the world. We like our quiet
times together. He also lost his mother, a month before mine; we've had
that to share.
Q: Of all your characters, which are your favorites?
Fernando was great. It was fun to do Saturday Night Live because it
was all improvised. I loved the danger of it, that we were on the air. And
whoever was the host that week got to sit in the hideaway with me. It was
always fun to watch somebody react with no cue—there'd be no
rehearsal, no nothing. Whatever happened, happened. And this conversation goes
on for six or seven minutes. I always loved the danger of Fernando because he
was so wonderfully insincere.
Q: How do you explain the fact that you have an affinity for doing older
characters and black characters?
I grew up with old people—my grandparents and my uncle Bern, who is
89. They were extraordinary people. I hear the members of my family in my head
a lot. When I go out on stage, I see them and feel them.
And then there were the older jazz musicians that my dad worked with who
would come to our house. I loved them. They were fresh, upbeat,
intoxicating—it just came naturally for me to respect the people that I
portray, like my Sammy Davis character and Leonard "The Rooster"
Willoughby, an old black ballplayer I did. If you respect the people you do,
it's easier to get into their skin.
Q: Did Louis Armstrong ever come to your home?
Yes. My uncle was one of his best friends. And there was a Seder for my
grandmother, and she said to him: "Louis, have you ever tried just
clearing your throat, just coughing it up?"
Q: You're almost an honorary Yankee. How did you become such a
fanatic fan?
At my first game, May 30, 1956, seeing Mantle hit a home run at Yankee
Stadium. We were sitting in Louis Armstrong's seats—he arranged for
the Yankees' trainer to look at my brother Joel's back...he had a
slipped disc, and my dad was worried. A guy took us to the clubhouse. Casey
Stengel walks out. I'm eight years old, and I said, "Who's
pitching?" And he goes, "You are, kid. Suit up."
And I remember the sound of those spikes on the cement just outside the
clubhouse. And one of the pitchers came out. And he said, "Do you want
some autographs?" He took the program. When he came back, Mickey Mantle
had signed it. Hank Bauer had signed it. The Yankees, and Mickey, and that team
in that ballpark have been in my guts ever since. So, baseball is the other
great love affair in my life.
Q: What's the other?
My wife, Janice.
Q: So, back up one second: if Louis Armstrong had had seats to Ebbets
Field, you could have become a Dodgers fan?
Could have been.
Q: Have you ever considered buying part of a team?
Janice and I have a tiny interest in the Arizona Diamondbacks.
Q: What happened when the Diamondbacks played the Yankees in the World
Series a few years ago?
It was tough. The Diamondbacks were a good team. At one point, Janice turns
to me and says, "Honey, we are beating us." That was tough to go
through, because one is an investment, but the other's in my heart and my
gut.
Q: It's well known that you were fascinated by the Mickey
Mantle-Roger Maris competition to break Babe Ruth's home-run record. Was
making the HBO movie 61* one of the great joys of your career?
Oh, God, yes. That was maybe the most fun I've had. I'd never met
Roger, but I felt like I knew him from the stories Mickey told me. The
challenge was to tell the story right and not sugarcoat Mickey—because he
would have been mad if I had—and to show what that season was like for
the two of them. I hated for that movie to stop shooting. It's the only
time I've ever felt that way.
Q: You were a pretty good ballplayer in college?
I played short and second. In fact, I threw a ball around this morning;
that's why I keep rubbing my shoulder. I try to throw two or three times a
week—it's great aerobics. I love being in good shape, and with the
Oscars coming, there is a marathon here to run. So I want to be on top of my
game.
Q: What's in the future for you?
I haven't been doing a lot of standup for years. I was tired of being on
the road and that pressure of having to be funny every night. So my energy went
into movies. Now I'm getting back. It feels good. I can just talk with not
as much planning as I used to do. There are things on my mind—love, loss,
getting up on your feet again. I'm going to do a bunch of stuff in the
spring after the Oscars.
Q: Any movies?
There's a couple—one I've written that I'd love to direct,
about the rise of baseball in World War II in Italy.
Q: Is there any character type you'd like to play?
I'd love to do different things. That's why I respect what Robin is
doing, playing other kinds of characters. I am up for anything right now. It
doesn't have to be a starring part, a great something—as long as
it's something new, a new kind of guy to get into.
Q: Do you feel good that both your daughters have gone into show
business?
Yes, because they're good. I cast Jenny in 61*—she read
with everyone else, and I felt she was the best. And Lindsay—she just
directed an HBO documentary about my uncle and did a great job. They've
found their own voice. The fact that they are good makes it easier. The fact
that they have my name makes it harder. More is expected.
Q: Besides throwing a ball around, what do you do for relaxation and
exercise?
I'm getting to be a pretty good golfer. And I enjoy riding. I own the
horse I rode in City Slickers. He's 23. But he's in good shape.
He's like a friend.
And holding this baby, that's the most relaxing thing of all. I just
love to sit and stare at her.
Alvin Sanoff, a former writer and editor at U.S. News & World Report,
lives in Bethesda, Maryland.
Now, take our quiz to find out how much
you really know about Billy Crystal.
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