BROTHER THEODORE'S BIOGRAPHY

adapted, with permission, from Ronald L. Smith's book WHO'S WHO IN COMEDY (Facts on File). As if he could do anything about it.

On a black stage illuminated by one spotlight, the foreboding Brother Theodore grimaced and said,, "In this best of all possible worlds -- everything is in a hell of a mess." With the audience laughing uneasily, weird shadows distorting his features, he continued, describing "the degrading after-effects of living," his alternately glum and raging expressions horrifyingly funny. Even in his 80's, the small but muscularly stocky man commanded the stage with powerful vitality. His craggy features blazed with intensity, his eyes popped from their sockets and he spoke "with a tongue of madness" in a darkly brooding German accent.

For over forty years Theodore lectured on life and death, all punctuated with twists of absurdist humor and deranged philosophy. "The best thing," he insisted, "is not to be born. But who is as lucky as that? To whom does it happen? Not to one among millions and millions of people."

It seemed that Theodore was born lucky, November 11, 1906. His family was extraordinarily wealthy and he had the best of everything, though his autocratic and disciplinarian father sometimes made life difficult. The Gottlieb family owned magazines and had great influence. Theodore recalled that in 1926 Einstein spent three months as a guest. At one memorable party, Theodore witnessed someone approach The Great Man and ask, "Is there life after death?" Einstein replied: "How the hell should I know!"

Years later, Theodore would become virtually the only comedian to rage a losing battle against existentialism. While his contemporaries such as Mort Sahl and Lenny Bruce took on politics and sociology, only Theodore made a career out of speaking what was REALLY on peoples' minds: what is the meaning of life, how does one cope with death, and what's behind the beyond.

Theodore recalled "being gloomy" in his youth, and (to his father's chagrin) studying "useless" things like art and philosophy in college. The philosophy in Germany changed during the 30's: "suddenly...we were Jewish pestiferous rats that had to be exterminated." The Nazis took the family's money, mansion, and finally, their lives. Theodore was the only family member to survive Dachau where he saw the tortures first hand and Nazi guards "roaring with laughter" watching men eaten alive by vicious dogs.

Escaping to America, Theodore worked as a janitor at Stanford University and toiled for three years in a shipyard in San Francisco. He put his savings into a serious one-man concert which flopped miserably. No one came to hear his soliloquies, or his version of "The Tell-Tale Heart." After seven years of struggling in poverty, his wife left him for his best friend. Theodore's only son went with her.

Theodore began to earn some good reviews for his bizarre one-man show in California in the late 40's, and in the 50's Theodore finally found his element, working small and bohemian theaters in New York. His serious grand guignol monologues of tortured souls and horror had become exaggerated for comic effect. His midnight shows had a strong following, he made experimental avant-garde comic-horror short films in 1954 and 1956, played the Electric Circus in 1970 and the cult gradually extended to the mainstream. He made 36 appearances on "The Merv Griffin Show," and it was Griffin who dubbed the dour performance artist/comedian "Brother" Theodore, based on the priest-like black turtleneck he wore.
He appeared on Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show" (demanding to know why Johnny was asking such "wishy washy questions") and an admiring Dick Cavett had him on for a half-hour, even allowing Theodore to sit at a desk and perform a segment from his show.

Over thirty years, while Lenny Bruce and Lord Buckley died and theatre-based purveyors of dark comedy like Nichols and May and Shelley Berman seemed in semi-retirement, Theodore retained a cult following, performing his monologues of guilt, frustration and existentialist fear. National interest in him was revived in the 80's by his appearances on "Late Night with David Letterman."

Like earlier eras when Jack Paar would be baffled by crusty Alexander King, and Johnny Carson would haveto deal with Professor Irwin Corey, the Letterman vs Theodore comic wars were comedy gold.
One appearance, in celebration of a dozen years at the 13th Street Theater, began with Dave declaring: "It's almost been a perfect show up till now. Please don't screw it up!"
Letterman's teasing would lead to glowering rebuttals and eccentric bits of philosophy. To Dave, a gruff and sarcastic: "I am squirming with delight to meet an intellectual colossus!" And to the audience, when they failed to laugh mightily at one of his asides, a mordant declaration: "I should have known better than to sell ROSES in a FISH MARKET!"

Unfortunately for the ever-hapless Theodore, while other Letterman regulars (such as Larry "Bud" Melman) were allowed to make constant gag appearances using cue cards, no such amenity was ever offered. While Letterman's writers could find ample reason to send a camera crew to tape a funny reaction shot at Dan Rather's desk or Mujiber & Sirajul's shop, they did not come calling at Theodore's apartment.

Theodore was always expected to memorize and perform new material keyed to Dave's questions. He would often be called on short notice (since he lived within a 20 minute cab ride of the show), which would've been a stressful situation for a comedian 50 years younger.He still managed to aggravate the crowd and astonish Dave every time he appeared.

Generally Theodore remained a regular weekly attraction at New York's 13th Street Theater. The elusive and eccentric performer retained his self-described "defeatest attitude" and routinely turned down nightclub offers around the country. He had to be persuaded by friends and admirers to at least take a few of the film offers that came his way, like the brief but high-paying role in the Tom Hanks movie "The 'Burbs."

In real life very much the brilliant but gloomy personality he seemed to be on stage and in talk shows, he might set up a meeting with a friend with this sepulchrally entoned warning: "Please call the day before to confirm this. Anything might happen to you or to me." Before undergoing a nasal operation in 1990 to correct the breathing problems he suffered ever since he had his nose broken by the Nazis at Dachau, he was characteristically gloomy. He remarked, "If I die, best wishes for the rest of your life. If I don't -- I'll phone you."

Despite his many ailments, and the difficulty of travel, Theodore continued his performances through the 1996 season. Stage work became more and more of a distant possibility due to the foot problems that began in 1969 when he broke his ankle after an apartment fall. (He had climbed a ladder to bang on the ceiling of his noisy neighbors). He returned to the 13th St. Theater periodically, but not for long. He suffered a broken hip. He had another unfortunate fall. But he never abandoned the hope that despite each new calamity, he would once again find his way back to the stage to continue to curse the darkness with creative comic rages.

For decades, Theodore had resisted the many offers that had come in to make a documentary of his life, or to videotape his stage show. Both HBO and Showtime were interested, but he fretted that HBO would only give him a half-hour, and Showtime, at the time, was not as popular. But as he grew weaker, so did his judgment, and a few creepy "cutting edge" types, and a few parasitic amateurs tried to make the most of this, setting up cameras and pushing the frail old man to perform segments of his act in his apartment.

With no audience except the feverish cameraman/fanboy, Theodore was determined to repeat, yet again, his grim, dark, comically pessimistic views of life after death. "Dear God," he would say, "If you exist, please help me! And if you don't exist...help me anyway!"

In the year 2000, problems with his legs made it difficult for him to leave his apartment for any reason. In March, after a particularly difficult fall, he had to be taken to Mount Sinai hospital. Fulfilling his stage theory that the only difference between good and bad hospitals is that some let you die and others kill you, Theodore somehow contracted pneumonia at the hospital.

Difficulty swallowing, bed sores, and being hooked up to various machines did not encourage him to be optimistic. The Mount Sinai environment was strange in another way. Visitors could walk right into the intensive care area without any concern for the dirt being tracked in on their shoes or the germs they might be carrying. In fact, there was not even a door shutting Theodore's bed from outside noise or airborn disease. There was only a flimsy curtain.

Over several difficult weeks he rallied from near death, only to sink back. As one friend recalled, "They dumped him to (a Jewish home/hospital) on 101st Street. When he got there a doctor said he'd never seen a patient in worse condition. He should never have been allowed to leave Mount Sinai." Theodore was in bad shape but still managed to receive visitors. He even asked for his scripts so he could re-memorize his act and return to the stage

But it wasn't long before Theodore had to be sent back to Mount Sinai via a harrowing ambulance ride. His closest friend had tried to ride in the ambulance and keep him calm during the bumpy journey, but she was eventually harassed and arrested for her efforts. Theodore was witness to all this. He reached the hospital alone. Within 24 hours, his condition had stabilized forever. He died on the morning of April 5th.

Theodore may have been influenced by Edgar A. Poe in some ways...he once told me that he thought Poe made a mistake by spending more time on palpable terrors such as premature burial or a sharpened pendulum, and not enough on more psychic and existential woes....

....But in the end, Theodore, like Poe, made a fatal miscalculation. He left his legacy in the hands of nobody who could do him much good. As the years passed, there was no Theodore DVD, no legit release of his audio, no book.  Perhaps Theodore in true Theodorian spirit, was only making sure that pessimism would rule, whether he was dead or alive. His will seemed to only confuse matters, as to who would control his scripts, who would handle rights clearances, etc. etc.

Like many humorists, Theodore was often surprised when the reaction to his honest commentary was laughter. But it was Theodore's art that enabled humor to rise out of frustration, out of rage, inner chaos, and hopelessly tragedy. As he always said, without really trying to be funny, "Madness is a very healthy sickness. If it were not for my madness, I would have gone insane long ago."

This website arrived in 1997, its purpose to furnish fans and followers with accurate information on Theodore, and to call attention to his unique humor. He knew of it, and since he wasn't sure what the hell the Internet was, was gratified but perplexed by it. He read a few print-out pages but became very agitated over the invitation to actually see it all on a computer.

Over the years, some well-intentioned people, as well as clueless parasites, have put up sites for Theodore, various com, net and org versions, some claiming (erroneously) to be the work of close personal friends. They were all momentary playthings, momentary tributes or momentary attempts at making money via bootlegs.

The only thing Theodorian about them, in retrospect, is their utter futility, and the fact that they ended up nothing but dust in the vacuum of cyberspace. At his funeral, someone who will (deservedly) remain nameless, proclaimed a website for Theodore which would continue his legacy. And it didn't. It lasted a year, perhaps two. Eventually this site, too, will fall, due to anything from a minor glitch to a nuclear holocaust, and there will not even be a few sentences left behind. But for the here and now, it remains the only real place for the real follows of Brother Theodore, and it proves that things are in a hell of a mess.