You Might Remember Me The Life and Times of Phil Hartman (38 page)

Along with several other friends and family members, Marin had been given a small portion of Phil’s ashes—contained in a light-colored wooden cube—by Paul Hartmann during the first scattering ceremony in late September 1998. But they had been in his possession long enough, Marin decided; the fulfillment of Phil’s wish was years overdue. And so, with a purposeful dearth of fanfare and the desire only to do right by his pal, here he was.

After gliding over schools of bright-orange Garibaldi fish and by harbor seals, whose rear flippers protruded from the water as if the creatures were standing on their heads, and after a series of semi-comical efforts to pry open the sealed-tight box in which Phil’s dust resided (a screwdriver was finally procured from a grim-faced fellow at Camp Emerald Bay, where Phil had first encountered Catalina as a Boy Scout, and many whacks against a hard buoy finished the job), Marin’s kayak approached Indian Rock. The incessant squawking of pelicans and seagulls perched on the natural monument’s numerous craggy outcroppings provided a sound track of sorts as Marin carefully and reverently sprinkled bits of Phil over kelp forests and in three other spots until his ash supply ran dry.

Filling the box with seawater to rinse out any remnants, he slowly poured its contents back into the briny blue and held it suspended upside down until every last drop had drained. Pausing for a moment, he gazed at the empty vessel that had contained Phil and was therefore part of him by association, and said, “Wish fulfilled.” A few minutes later, with his kayak unsteadily parked along the rock’s jagged perimeter, Marin disembarked with Phil’s makeshift urn, positioned it on a small ledge near a wispy shrub, climbed back down, and paddled away.

Now, for as long as wind and waves and curious wildlife will allow, Phil can gaze out over crystalline waters that preserve his spirit in death as they renewed it in life. And no doubt he likes it there in Emerald Bay.

It is, after all, a happy place.

Acknowledgments

Like many of my best ideas, the notion to write a biography of Phil Hartman came from someone else—namely, scribe and former stand-up comedian Vince Vieceli. A former comic and co-author of the recently published “Stand-Up Comedy in Chicago,” Vince e-mailed me one day in late 2010 and said he’d like to read a book about Phil. “That’s a great idea,” I replied, “and a subject I love. Phil was tops.” So a massive thank-you goes to Vince for getting my creative juices flowing again after a frustrating dry spell.

Soon thereafter, I made contact with Phil’s older brother John Hartmann—a sharp guy and spry yoga master who can perform the full-on splits, as he did for my benefit at the bar of Monty’s steakhouse in Woodland Hills, California. When I first told John of my desire to chronicle Phil’s life, his response was highly encouraging: in essence, “go for it.” The ball rolled on from there. Several of Phil’s other siblings generously joined the fold as well: his younger brother Paul and sisters Nancy, Jane, and Martha. John’s daughter Ohara was a phenomenal ally, too. Thanks to all of them for recalling countless and sometimes-painful memories, and for abiding my deluge of e-mails confirming facts and fleshing out details. Their participation made a big difference.

Phil’s first wife, Gretchen Gettis Blake, and his second wife, Lisa Strain-Jarvis, were kind and invaluable sources, offering up numerous recollections, handwritten notes, photos, and moral support along the way. I am in their debt. Phil’s loyal friends Floyd Dozier, Britt Marin, John Paragon, Mark Pierson, Clif Potts, Wink Roberts, and Sparkie Holloway provided crucial assistance as well.

Since this project’s very early stages, Senior Philologist Emeritus Angel Rosenthal, Ph.D. (that’s a doctorate in Philology, fyi)—who has kept close tabs on Phil for many years and knows more about him than anyone else I’ve ever met—was always selfless with her time, knowledge, and archives. I can’t thank her enough. The efforts of my former agent at Writers House, Ken Wright, helped make this book a reality. I’m indebted to Ken for his years of work on my behalf and wish him all the best in his gig as vice president and publisher at Viking Children’s Books. Alec Shane picked up where Ken left off and hasn’t missed a beat. Besides being a responsive and knowledgeable agent, he’s trained in martial arts, and I like knowing that someone who represents me can literally kick ass if circumstances warrant. At St. Martin’s Press, my excellent and always supportive editor Marc Resnick (who
literarily
kicks ass) was pumped about this project from the get-go and nimbly shepherded it from start to finish. Thanks also to editorial assistants Kate Canfield and Jaime Coyne, jacket designer Rob Grom, copyeditor Steve Roman, production editor Eric C. Meyer, publicists Angie Giammarino, Katie Bassel, and Kelsey Lawrence, and attorney Mark Lerner. During research trips to L.A., my superlative sister-in-law Teresa Holzbach and the rocking Celina Denkins saved this writer-on-a-budget many greenbacks by putting me up in their secluded abode, where I slept well, ate well, and was made to feel extremely welcome. Big love to both.

Over at
The Simpsons,
Antonia Coffman was immediately enthusiastic about the book and nothing but accommodating in every way despite her incredibly busy schedule.

Who’s next? So many. Biography making, as you might know, takes a village—at least. Here, then, are scores of other residents whose contributions aided me in ways great and small: Richard Abramson, Anthony Alba, Khandi Alexander, Gary Austin, Debbie Avellana, Hank Azaria, Andy Bandit, Sara Baum, Tobe Becker, Gerry Beckley, Ed Begley, Jr., Victoria Bell, Randy Bennett, Tom Brascia, Les Brown, Norman Bryn, Megan Callahan, Eric Carlson, Nancy Cartwright, Carmen Chandler, Tom Cherones, Michael Clark, Craig Clough, Kathy Constantine, Paul Cotton, Doug Cox, Alan Cranis, Joe Dante, John Davies, Henry Diltz, Jim Downey, Victor Drai, Jessica Driscoll, Richard Duardo, Jonanthan Eig, Tom Farley Jr., Gillian Flynn, Joe Furey, Joel Gallen, Susan Gamble, Tom and Henry Gammill, Rob Glushen, Art Golab, Harlan Goodman, Paula Grey, Sheree Guitar, Larry Hagman, Charna Halpern, Jack Handey, Rich Hein, Mac Holbert, Carol Holloway, Jan Hooks, Sarah Immelt, Victoria Jackson, Al Jean, James Kaplan, Jann Karam, Phyllis Katz, Dawna Kaufmann, Jay Kogen, Mark Konkol, Linda Krohn, Robert Kurson, Jay Leno, Vicki Lewis, Neal Marshad, Jamie Masada, Tom Maxwell, John Mayer, Betty McCann, Edie McClurg, Scott Michaels, James Andrew Miller, Jay Mohr, Chad Moore, Jaye P. Morgan, Brian and Kevin Mulhern, Angela Munoz, Marianne Murciano, Joel Murray, Graham Nash, Laraine Newman, Tracy Newman, Claire Nicholson, Kevin Noonan, Bob Odenkirk, Nicole Panter, Cassandra Peterson, Tim Cahill Pickart, Bonnie Pietila, Helga Pollock, Phil Proctor, Mike Reiss, David Rensin, Michael Rofe, Stephen Root, Lauren Roseman, Tom Schiller, Josh Schollmeyer, Michael Scott, Mike Scully, Rosie Shuster, Jim Signorelli, Sarah Silverman, Paul Simms, Bob Sirott, Steve Small, Robert Smigel, Brian Stack, Tim Stack, Hanala Stadner Sagal, Bill Steinkellner, Lynne Stewart, Craig Strong, Chad Stuart, Julia Sweeney, John Thomas, Judy Thompson, Joanne Toll, Michael Varhol, Steve Warmbir, Anna Weinstein, Rusty Young, Christine Zander, Bill Zehme, Ari Zudkewich, Bill Zwecker and Alan Zweibel. If there’s anyone else I should have thanked and didn’t, please forgive the omission.

As ever, I’m grateful to family members who’ve long championed this book and my work in general—including my sisters Lisa and Sarah, brothers-in-law, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents.

To my wife, Sandy—the remarkable multi-tasking mother of our two daughters and the most awesome spouse I’ve ever had (OK, the
only
spouse I’ve ever had): Despite the fact that I’m sometimes slightly frustrating to live with, you have made me a better man. I love you. Grace and Audrey, I love you too—equally and unconditionally and more than you could ever imagine. Thanks for putting up with all of my time away from home: the late nights, the traveling, the innumerable lost weekends. I do what I do for you. And a little bit for me, because I like it, but mostly for you.

This book is dedicated to my parents, Sam and Paula Thomas, whose perpetual generosity, rock-solid values, and boundless dedication to their kids (and grandkids) are qualities I admire greatly and try to emulate. They are role models nonpareil.

In closing, a huge tip of Chick Hazard’s rakishly cocked fedora to Phil Hartman for keeping me entertained, intrigued, and inspired along the way. Hope I did him proud. Also: bread good, fire bad.

Bibliography

Please note that some of the links referenced in this work are no longer active.

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