Monday
April 21st, 2014 – Island Lake, IL
I can’t let this time
of year pass without paying true heartfelt tribute to my number one comedy
mentor C. Cardell Willis. I’ve had influences and partial mentors along the
way, but Cardell was “the man” right from day one. He was a father figure on
stage and off, and I’ll love him forever.
For
whatever reason, he used to celebrate his birthday on August 3rd.
For years, I thought that’s when it was. I’m usually pretty good at remembering
people’s birthdays – at least getting it close enough to be respectable. If I
don’t hit it the exact day, I’ll usually get it at least within a couple.
This has
been a lifetime thing, WAY before Facebook made it so easy for us all. It has
always been important to me to acknowledge someone’s birthday whenever I can
and at least give them the respect of letting them know I remembered. Birthdays
are one’s personal holiday, and I find nothing at all wrong with celebrating
one’s existence despite what the Jehovah’s Witnesses say.
My mother
apparently joined them shortly after she abandoned our family when I was a
baby, and that was the excuse she used the few times I’ve seen her for not
sending any birthday cards to any of her three children or even acknowledging
our existence. I can’t begin to put into words how painful it is to be ignored
by one’s own mother in life, so birthdays are a soft spot with me.
Cardell is
far ahead of both my natural parents on my memory list. He did much more good
for me than both of them ever did, so I felt a need to honor him out of
respect. It wasn’t until the end of his life I found out his real birthday was
April 20th. That’s also Hitler’s birthday, so maybe he was
embarrassed or something. It doesn’t matter to me what the day is, as long as I
pay respect.
In the
entertainment business, it’s a common mistake to assume that if someone is
famous they are the best at what they do and a good person, but nothing could
be further from the truth. Some famous people are all that, but others are flat
out scoundrels. Fame and measure of character are not and never have been
intermingled. Some total pukes make it through for reasons unknown.
Cardell was
never famous – and unbelievably few ever are - but he was absolutely loaded
with character. Not only did he make time to mentor a city full of wayward
comedians, he also helped inner city kids as a scoutmaster for Boy Scouts for
years. I’m sure there are adults now that recall him with the same deep
fondness and respect for the kindness he showed them years ago as I do.
What is
often the saddest turn of events is that we never get to pay back those that
did the most good for us. He always told us to “pay it forward” - and that’s
what I have tried to do for as long as I’ve been a full time comedian. There
have been literally hundreds of meals bought for young comedians through the
years that were a direct result of Cardell’s mentoring. He lives on in me.
Mentorship
is a skill by itself, and too often those that are best at it don’t get
recognized for the effort it takes. It’s not just a one day thing and that’s it.
It’s a constant process over a time period that can range from years to decades
to a lifetime. Cardell was with me for decades at a time that I really needed his
help. Not only is he still with me, through me his wisdom has been passed on.
It rarely
takes much at the time, and there frequently isn’t much fanfare. It’s often
just a matter of knowing what to say and when to say it. My grandfather was a
terrific mentor also, and he and Cardell shared similar traits. Both knew
precisely when and how to say what needed to be said.
The first
big deal I can remember as a comedian – which sounds so laughable now – was
when I was going to host a show for the first time. I had only been around a
short time and was greener than a bag of $20 bills. Why any idiot would trust
me to host a comedy show then is beyond me.
Some idiot did,
and I was both thrilled and scared to death at the same time. I had no idea
what to do, but Cardell sat me down and give me several much needed pointers.
He told me what I had to know, and walked me through it in a few minutes. He
said he knew I could handle it, and even if that was a fib it was exactly what
I needed to hear at that time. His kind words were medicine.
Time and
time again he’d cheer me as I climbed steps up the comedy ladder. They seem so
tiny now, but back then it felt like I was climbing Mt. Everest each time.
Having a friendly face in my corner through those intimidating steps was SO inspiring,
and the face I saw continually was his.
What felt
even better was hearing second and third hand from others how he thought out of
the local comics in Milwaukee at the time I was the one he thought would go the
farthest. “That boy is GOING someplace, you watch!” he’d say. “I hope he takes
me with him. I might need a job.”
I heard this
back from numerous sources through the years - and he eventually told me himself.
He said I had the natural gift and the drive it took to get out and take my
swings on a bigger field than Milwaukee. Comedy clubs were just starting to explode
then, and he was adamant about me getting out and taking my shot. “You’ll never
get anywhere staying here. Move on.” And I did.
Milwaukee
was my home town and I wanted to prove to some people – mainly my father – that
I wasn’t the loser he always told me I would be. Cardell could see that was the
raw source of my pain, and tried to get me to focus on building a career. I was
an angry kid, and needed guidance.
It’s the
classic tale of the old bull and young bull, and looking back he said all the
right stuff at all the right times and I love him dearly for it. It didn’t
always hit me at the time, but I needed to hear exactly what he said. Youth always
thinks it knows better, but wisdom only comes with age.
Probably
the sweetest of so many sweet memories was Cardell and his manager Shirley
Schaak taking me out for dinner before I went on my first road trip. They were
proud of me, and both of them beamed through our meal. Cardell gave me time
tested tips on road survival, and at the end of the night they gave me a card
with $25 in it “for a flat tire”. I’m weeping in thanks even now.
Kindness
like that endures forever – especially for a dented can like me that wasn’t
used to that from anybody. Cardell and Shirley were my comedy parents, and I love
and appreciate them now more than ever. I never took them for granted, but in hindsight
all those good things they did not only for me but for all the comedians in
Milwaukee shine even brighter. I try to pass on the love they passed to me, but
I always fall so far short. Thank you Cardell! Shirley too! I love you both.
My magnificent mentor in comedy C. Cardell Willis. A kinder soul and more competent mentor has never lived. I owe this man SO much. |
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