David Brenner

David Brenner debuted on national TV on “The Tonight Show,” and has made the most appearances of any guest on that show—158. He is the most frequent talk show guest of any entertainer, which is confirmed in The Book of Lists #2.

Today, he is recognized as a political pundit, appearing on MSNBC, CNN and The Fox Network. He’s had four HBO Specials. His last, “David Brenner: Back With A Vengeance,” was one of HBO’s highest rated specials. The Hollywood Reporter proclaimed, “He’s edgier and more insightful in his skewering of popular culture than ever before . . .”

Before doing stand-up, he was a successful writer/producer/director of 115 television documentaries, and headed the documentary departments of both Westinghouse Broadcasting and Metromedia Broadcasting. In that role he earned nearly thirty awards and citations, including an Emmy Award. He is the author of five books, including the best seller Soft Pretzels with Mustard, and I Think There's a Terrorist in My Soup.

MB: How long have you been performing?

DB: Thirty-nine years.

MB: What were the circumstances when you started?

DB: Well, I never wanted to be a comedian; you have to understand that. I was a writer, producer, and director of documentaries for the networks. I headed up documentary production for Westinghouse and Metro Media. And I just got burnt out. I’d been working since I was eight-and-a-half years old. I said, “Well, that’s enough of this.” So I took a year off, saved enough money to just squeak by for a year in New York.

I just wanted to have something to do, because I’d had this work ethic since I was a child. You know, I’d always been funny, and people had always been telling me, “Oh, you oughta be a comedian.” But, I had no interest or desire to do it. But then I thought, “You know, why not? It’ll give me something to do for a year.”

So I started hanging around comedy clubs. And, to tell you the truth, when I sat there, seeing most of those comedians, I’d think, “Well, I’m as good as that guy.” Or, “I’m better than that guy. If I’d want to do this. I don’t think he’s that funny.”

So I started doing it. I wanted to do a television show, so that some day, when I told people, “I once played around with stand-up comedy,” and they didn’t believe me, I could whip out a video, and show it. So, I gave myself a year. And in a little over a year I got on “The Tonight Show.” The response was so great. . . . I had ten thousand dollars worth of job offers the next day, including a gig in Vegas, and I realized that I’d hit the mother lode. And this lark of mine has lasted thirty-nine years.

MB: So, were you nervous when you first started out?

DB: Yeah, because I had never really been on stage. When I was in—I think it was fourth grade—I played a cloud in a school play. I had to puff out my cheeks, and they glued cotton balls on me, or some stupid thing. And then, in the orchestra, I started out playing the triangle. But I was screwing around so much they made me bang the sticks. In another play I was a whip. I had to take off my belt and use it as a whip. It was a stupid thing.

So I had never truly been on stage. But as a producer for television, I had worked with a lot of actors, comedians and all that. I knew the production end of it. So I was a bit nervous, to the point where I would take an over-the-counter pill before I performed. I think it was called “Miltown.” It was a tranquilizer, and it would calm me down. So I had no trepidation about performing.

Then I went with Steve Landesberg to a club down in the village. He’s a very good friend of mine, played Sergeant Dietrich in the Barney Miller series. He’s a terrific stand-up comedian, a very funny guy. So he and I went down to the Gaslight Club. Alot of the great folk singers and comedians had been there in the early days. They had this Hootenanny night, or open mike, whatever you want to call it. This was back in ’69, so this was a time when most performers were folk singers, and they had missions, you know, to correct the world. They were all peace and love, and making V’s with their fingers, and blowing kisses to the audience. It was the time of Aquarius and all that crap.

So the night I was there with Steve Landesberg, the place was packed with folk singers, their managers, their relatives, and their friends. And in those days, comedians weren’t on the top billing. We were pretty low down on the ladder. We were like the bastard child of the show business family.

Anyway, I was going on. And then about five comedians later, Steve would go on. So I thought about how fascinating it was to me how the folk singers perform, and I got up on the stage and said, “You know, I’ve been watching all you folks singers, and truly, it’s so fascinating to me how you spend five minutes or so telling us how you wrote the song, why you wrote the song, what it means to you, what it’s supposed to mean to us, what it’s going to mean to the world, how it’s going to change everything. And I thought, ‘Wow, wouldn’t it be great if comedians could do that?’” And I made believe I was holding a guitar, and dealing with the frets, and all that. And I said (as a comedian now), “I was living in Haight-Ashbury”—and I was tuning this air guitar— “with this woman Esther.” (Of course none of this is true.) “And we had an argument.” (Again, a little tuning.) “And I broke off with her. I decided to leave.” (A little more tuning.) “And Esther got upset and tried to stop me. But she slipped in the tub, and she broke the big toe on her right foot. And it was at that moment that I created this joke which I call ‘the broken big toe on Esther’s right foot,’ and I’d like to say it for you now. If you've heard it, please say the punch line with me.” [Both laugh.]

See, you’re enjoying it. [DB laughs] I enjoyed it. They fucking hated it. [Both laugh] Not only was I bombing, but there were glares, and you could hear, like, snakes hissing. It was a horror. And Steve Landesberg . . . In the back of the club, there was a big pillar, a structural pillar. Steve leaned out past it and waved goodbye to me. And left.

So, I managed to get through the crowd and to get outside without getting harmed. I walked out onto the street, Mulberry Street. [Both laugh] And Steve and I were walking, and I said to him, “God, can you imagine a worse bomb? I mean, it was perfect. Not only did I not get laughs, but everyone in the room hated me.”

MB: How did you feel after that happened?

DB: Well, what I said is, “Well look at me, Steve. My legs are working. My arms are working. My brain’s working. My mouth’s working.”

And then I came up with a line which I used from then on. I said . . . and you know the way I grew up . . . I said, “No one’s coming out of the alley with a baseball bat playing ‘Let’s get a Jew.’ So what’s the big deal? What am I nervous about? That experience was nothing compared to what I’ve been through.”

And I took those tranquilizers, those little pills that I took, and I tossed them into a litter basket on a corner somewhere around Fourth and Mulberry. And I was never nervous again till this very moment.