George Carlin: The Lost Interview
In 1998, I conducted a pre-concert interview with comedian George Carlin while working as arts and entertainment reporter for the La Crosse Tribune.
Due to the nature of print newspaper deadlines in those days, this interview was never worked into an article for publication (though my review of his show did make the paper). It is transcribed here in its entirety for the first time.
Before the interview, I had been warned by another reporter that Carlin could be difficult and cranky. But as I talked with him about such wide-ranging topics as his artistic influences, troubles with the law, recent TV experiences, and Irish Catholic upbringing on the streets in New York City, I found him to be quite open, thoughtful and candid, as well as one of the smartest people I've ever had the chance to interview. But pity the fool, I also thought, who had earned his ire, for whatever reason.
What do you think contributed most to your rebellious nature?
There are far more things that are genetic than are environmental, that's my belief. I mean, when they tell you they found a gene for people who change their mind a lot, then you know, there's an awful lot of stuff buried in the brain that's kind of hard-wired. My mother and father were both what were called self-starters, and people who were very efficient and able to speak up for themselves and create situations and were very autonomous and independent people, so I got some of that that way. And my mother, she raised us, always emphasized those qualities. And I was on my own a lot as a youngster because of the breakup of their marriage and she was having to go back to work in advertising. So that living around it in a city like New York with time on your hands after school you really learn to take care of yourself. So the rebelliousness came, I don't know, partly because I just didn't like authority and regimentation.
Unlike some of us, though, you did get to go to an experimental Catholic school, where there were no uniforms, no grades, no corporal punishment.
So it wasn't strict discipline at school that sent me running away. It was just my nature, plus the fact that I knew I had discipline internally. All I ever kept hearing from people on the outside was that I needed discipline. And I knew better. And I just resisted all that stuff and started to live my own life at an early age. I started making very adult decisions in my middle teens.
You recently had a short run with your own sitcom on Fox. Did you ever feel that doing a TV show like that ran against your basic nature?
I knew entering into that situation that I really didn't fit. But I felt I owed it to my wife and me at least once before they stopped offering me these things to take them up on it once and see where it led. But I was confirmed in my belief that the corporation and especially two of them, Fox and Warner Bros., and these people running around in suits who are in fear of their jobs and are second guessing each other and themselves – I just knew where that would lead. I had a lot of fun with the actors and on the set. I had a lot of fun doing the shows but I didn't have much fun at all with all the extra stuff that comes with it.
Anything else good come out of it?
No, not really. It's just another experience I had that confirmed certain feelings and beliefs and in the meantime I did discharge this sort of hidden obligation to myself to at least investigate an offer of that magnitude.
Due to the nature of print newspaper deadlines in those days, this interview was never worked into an article for publication (though my review of his show did make the paper). It is transcribed here in its entirety for the first time.
Before the interview, I had been warned by another reporter that Carlin could be difficult and cranky. But as I talked with him about such wide-ranging topics as his artistic influences, troubles with the law, recent TV experiences, and Irish Catholic upbringing on the streets in New York City, I found him to be quite open, thoughtful and candid, as well as one of the smartest people I've ever had the chance to interview. But pity the fool, I also thought, who had earned his ire, for whatever reason.
What do you think contributed most to your rebellious nature?
There are far more things that are genetic than are environmental, that's my belief. I mean, when they tell you they found a gene for people who change their mind a lot, then you know, there's an awful lot of stuff buried in the brain that's kind of hard-wired. My mother and father were both what were called self-starters, and people who were very efficient and able to speak up for themselves and create situations and were very autonomous and independent people, so I got some of that that way. And my mother, she raised us, always emphasized those qualities. And I was on my own a lot as a youngster because of the breakup of their marriage and she was having to go back to work in advertising. So that living around it in a city like New York with time on your hands after school you really learn to take care of yourself. So the rebelliousness came, I don't know, partly because I just didn't like authority and regimentation.
Unlike some of us, though, you did get to go to an experimental Catholic school, where there were no uniforms, no grades, no corporal punishment.
So it wasn't strict discipline at school that sent me running away. It was just my nature, plus the fact that I knew I had discipline internally. All I ever kept hearing from people on the outside was that I needed discipline. And I knew better. And I just resisted all that stuff and started to live my own life at an early age. I started making very adult decisions in my middle teens.
You recently had a short run with your own sitcom on Fox. Did you ever feel that doing a TV show like that ran against your basic nature?
I knew entering into that situation that I really didn't fit. But I felt I owed it to my wife and me at least once before they stopped offering me these things to take them up on it once and see where it led. But I was confirmed in my belief that the corporation and especially two of them, Fox and Warner Bros., and these people running around in suits who are in fear of their jobs and are second guessing each other and themselves – I just knew where that would lead. I had a lot of fun with the actors and on the set. I had a lot of fun doing the shows but I didn't have much fun at all with all the extra stuff that comes with it.
Anything else good come out of it?
No, not really. It's just another experience I had that confirmed certain feelings and beliefs and in the meantime I did discharge this sort of hidden obligation to myself to at least investigate an offer of that magnitude.
You often talk of the need as an artist for detachment. How do you maintain that?
That's really a part of my nature too, I think. It goes along with autonomy and independence of action. It's just that I don't identify with the local group, no matter what it is, whether it's the human species or the American democracy, the nation, the country, religions, political parties, nothing. None of these have my allegiance because I'm not really concerned with what they do. I don't care about the outcome. I have no interest in seeing this species succeed or seeing this republic last for any appreciable length of time outside of my own selfish needs not to be in a dungeon in Turkey somewhere. But from a purely abstract standpoint, I don't feel a part of any of this. When I discovered that I really could enunciate that feeling, and accept it as an actual reality in my existence, then my art became liberated because I was able to say to myself, I have no stake in any of this. I don't need to be rooting for an outcome.
Besides this kind of biting social commentary, you're also known for your keen and offbeat observations of everyday life. Where does that come from?
If you want to analyze them psychologically, those things represent the need to connect that I have as a human. I mean, I can say all I want about being separate and independent and apart, but that doesn't satisfy my entire being because I'm still human and I still have the social urge and the need to connect. And rather than be completely completely ignored to my detriment, I'm satisfied to some extent by being able to talk about these what I think of as universal moments… I see now as I look at those things, I see that's my balance, that's what keeps me, at least to some extent, whole and healthy and balanced. So that was sort of interesting to notice that, that somehow the psyche will find a way to satisfy its needs. And there I was doing this all this time without labeling it in any way. But I think it's a fairly accurate observation.
Were there any specific entertainers who influenced the course of your career?
Yes and no. None of them to the specific point of style of what I do, but certainly the ambition to be famous, and the ambition to be known and then to be known as a funny person. Danny Kaye was one of those early focal points for that sort of energy. There were a lot of other people – any comedian interested me for that reason. But I didn't want to have the kind of career they had except in the general sense that for Danny Kaye, I thought that would be fun, to be in the movies and be an actor and do that. So I called that "actor." I didn't distinguish between Humphrey Bogart and Danny Kaye in that respect. Comedian was the way I figured I would get into acting. I figured if I was good enough as a comedian, they would have to let me be an actor like Danny Kaye. So in that sense, those people helped shape me and head me toward the stage.
Still pursuing the acting roles?
When something is offered. I'm in a very lucky position. My career is very hot again and I've always been able to do 150 dates a year and fill up the theater every other night and get very close the other night. So I haven't had to sit around and wait for phone calls and I haven't had to pursue these people and try to ingratiate myself with them, so that's kept me independent. So now when the phone rings like that, and I like it – I like the thing, it's a good character, a good story, good people doing it – I'm able to do that too and it's nice. Maybe I'll do more of that as time goes on, but it's not something I have to sit around worrying about. My plate is full and I'm always able to make a project for myself.
Language – and its pecularities – is a big part of your humor. What attracts you to thinking about that?
Well, my grandfather was a policeman in New York. He wrote out all of Shakespeare's works longhand during his life because of the joy it gave him. It's an Irish trait, I think, to some extent, to be somewhat gifted with words and very interested in language and poetry, expression. So he passed that along to my mother, who also instilled it in me. So a lot of it is genetic. And being around my mother, she helped reinforce it too.
What makes language funny?
Well, it's one of the most elementary things we do, and we are really a silly group when you get right down to it. There's an awful lot of nonsense that goes on in the name of progress or in the name of self-importance and forming of these religions. All this stuff that's supposed to be so serious is really silly and fun to look at. So language is the most elementary aspect to our humanness, probably. In addition to that thumb, it's the embodiment, it's the apotheosis of the human experience, it's the way we summarize ourselves.
The "Seven Words You Can't Say on Television" bit is one of your more popular bits on language – and most controversial. When you were arrested at Summerfest in Milwaukee in 1972 for the routine, was that unexpected?
Yeah, sure. I mean, you know, it hadn't happened anywhere else. Of course, the circumstances were unusual. It was an outdoor festival and the sound from the speakers carried beyond what you might call the venue itself. That was the rationale of the policeman. There's people with children, he said, there's mothers out here. So he was protecting motherhood and that's how it happened. But they didn't get any of the cocaine – I had a lot of cocaine in my pockets on stage. My wife came out under the ruse of bringing me water and said there's policemen on stage, when you go off don't go off the way you normally go off, go off to the other side. I went off the other side, the policemen didn't expect that. It delayed them about a minute and I was able to give this stuff all to the band, and the band was very happy. There were no drug charges. That's probably what they would have loved.
Later a listener complained to the FCC when a California radio station played your "Seven Words" routine on the air, and the case went all the way to the Supreme Court. How did you feel about that?
It was just fun to be a small footnote in the history of the culture. The case is now taught in many law school and communications courses. That is very gratifying because I quit school in ninth grade. I earned my high school diploma by going in the Air Force and passing their high school equivalency test. I passed it in the high 90s percentile. Then I took their two-year college equivalency test and passed that with very high scores. Then when I began to do this material and become popular and college professors began to ask me to use some of my things in a textbook or in a class or something, I… lurking under the surface there is always this need to prove my intelligence. So being associated with these college courses is very satisfying.
How does it feel to have a "best of" collection out there now?
It feels good, because I have always looked on my material as assets. I've always thought of them as things that, you know, shouldn't just disappear in the night one night, but that some material benefit should accrue to me after the initial use, and now I'm realizing that. It makes me feel good. That kind of income takes the pressure off being on the road all the time. I'm a little late to be getting to that stage, I'll admit, but it's good to be arriving there, to realize I'll soon be able to make some different decisions about how I use my time.
It must be hard to keep up that schedule year after year.
If I didn't enjoy the art so much, it would be horrifying. But I have accepted it as a package because I can't do it without going where people are. And as long as that's true, I'm not going to make it an obstacle to my fun, I'm just going to incorporate it. So I go out and the whole thing to me is fine because I'm getting to do the thing I love more than anything.
You mentioned your mother trying to mold you. How did she react to where your life and career have gone?
Well, I had a phase when I was sort of mainstream and real clean-cut looking up until '69. I was on TV a lot and she was able to preen and enjoy that, and good for her. My feelings on her are mixed. They're not all negative, I don't want you to think that. Then when I began to do this changing thing and express myself differently and use filthy language and attack religion and big business, she was horrified. But she came around to it because it made me even more popular. She had an essential need to live through her children. She always said, "You are a reflection of me." The ultimate reflection she had to accept was that a lot of people liked me and liked what I did and liked me for my mind in spite of a beard she didn't care for and etc. etc. So as her life continued, she became more reconciled to it.
That's really a part of my nature too, I think. It goes along with autonomy and independence of action. It's just that I don't identify with the local group, no matter what it is, whether it's the human species or the American democracy, the nation, the country, religions, political parties, nothing. None of these have my allegiance because I'm not really concerned with what they do. I don't care about the outcome. I have no interest in seeing this species succeed or seeing this republic last for any appreciable length of time outside of my own selfish needs not to be in a dungeon in Turkey somewhere. But from a purely abstract standpoint, I don't feel a part of any of this. When I discovered that I really could enunciate that feeling, and accept it as an actual reality in my existence, then my art became liberated because I was able to say to myself, I have no stake in any of this. I don't need to be rooting for an outcome.
Besides this kind of biting social commentary, you're also known for your keen and offbeat observations of everyday life. Where does that come from?
If you want to analyze them psychologically, those things represent the need to connect that I have as a human. I mean, I can say all I want about being separate and independent and apart, but that doesn't satisfy my entire being because I'm still human and I still have the social urge and the need to connect. And rather than be completely completely ignored to my detriment, I'm satisfied to some extent by being able to talk about these what I think of as universal moments… I see now as I look at those things, I see that's my balance, that's what keeps me, at least to some extent, whole and healthy and balanced. So that was sort of interesting to notice that, that somehow the psyche will find a way to satisfy its needs. And there I was doing this all this time without labeling it in any way. But I think it's a fairly accurate observation.
Were there any specific entertainers who influenced the course of your career?
Yes and no. None of them to the specific point of style of what I do, but certainly the ambition to be famous, and the ambition to be known and then to be known as a funny person. Danny Kaye was one of those early focal points for that sort of energy. There were a lot of other people – any comedian interested me for that reason. But I didn't want to have the kind of career they had except in the general sense that for Danny Kaye, I thought that would be fun, to be in the movies and be an actor and do that. So I called that "actor." I didn't distinguish between Humphrey Bogart and Danny Kaye in that respect. Comedian was the way I figured I would get into acting. I figured if I was good enough as a comedian, they would have to let me be an actor like Danny Kaye. So in that sense, those people helped shape me and head me toward the stage.
Still pursuing the acting roles?
When something is offered. I'm in a very lucky position. My career is very hot again and I've always been able to do 150 dates a year and fill up the theater every other night and get very close the other night. So I haven't had to sit around and wait for phone calls and I haven't had to pursue these people and try to ingratiate myself with them, so that's kept me independent. So now when the phone rings like that, and I like it – I like the thing, it's a good character, a good story, good people doing it – I'm able to do that too and it's nice. Maybe I'll do more of that as time goes on, but it's not something I have to sit around worrying about. My plate is full and I'm always able to make a project for myself.
Language – and its pecularities – is a big part of your humor. What attracts you to thinking about that?
Well, my grandfather was a policeman in New York. He wrote out all of Shakespeare's works longhand during his life because of the joy it gave him. It's an Irish trait, I think, to some extent, to be somewhat gifted with words and very interested in language and poetry, expression. So he passed that along to my mother, who also instilled it in me. So a lot of it is genetic. And being around my mother, she helped reinforce it too.
What makes language funny?
Well, it's one of the most elementary things we do, and we are really a silly group when you get right down to it. There's an awful lot of nonsense that goes on in the name of progress or in the name of self-importance and forming of these religions. All this stuff that's supposed to be so serious is really silly and fun to look at. So language is the most elementary aspect to our humanness, probably. In addition to that thumb, it's the embodiment, it's the apotheosis of the human experience, it's the way we summarize ourselves.
The "Seven Words You Can't Say on Television" bit is one of your more popular bits on language – and most controversial. When you were arrested at Summerfest in Milwaukee in 1972 for the routine, was that unexpected?
Yeah, sure. I mean, you know, it hadn't happened anywhere else. Of course, the circumstances were unusual. It was an outdoor festival and the sound from the speakers carried beyond what you might call the venue itself. That was the rationale of the policeman. There's people with children, he said, there's mothers out here. So he was protecting motherhood and that's how it happened. But they didn't get any of the cocaine – I had a lot of cocaine in my pockets on stage. My wife came out under the ruse of bringing me water and said there's policemen on stage, when you go off don't go off the way you normally go off, go off to the other side. I went off the other side, the policemen didn't expect that. It delayed them about a minute and I was able to give this stuff all to the band, and the band was very happy. There were no drug charges. That's probably what they would have loved.
Later a listener complained to the FCC when a California radio station played your "Seven Words" routine on the air, and the case went all the way to the Supreme Court. How did you feel about that?
It was just fun to be a small footnote in the history of the culture. The case is now taught in many law school and communications courses. That is very gratifying because I quit school in ninth grade. I earned my high school diploma by going in the Air Force and passing their high school equivalency test. I passed it in the high 90s percentile. Then I took their two-year college equivalency test and passed that with very high scores. Then when I began to do this material and become popular and college professors began to ask me to use some of my things in a textbook or in a class or something, I… lurking under the surface there is always this need to prove my intelligence. So being associated with these college courses is very satisfying.
How does it feel to have a "best of" collection out there now?
It feels good, because I have always looked on my material as assets. I've always thought of them as things that, you know, shouldn't just disappear in the night one night, but that some material benefit should accrue to me after the initial use, and now I'm realizing that. It makes me feel good. That kind of income takes the pressure off being on the road all the time. I'm a little late to be getting to that stage, I'll admit, but it's good to be arriving there, to realize I'll soon be able to make some different decisions about how I use my time.
It must be hard to keep up that schedule year after year.
If I didn't enjoy the art so much, it would be horrifying. But I have accepted it as a package because I can't do it without going where people are. And as long as that's true, I'm not going to make it an obstacle to my fun, I'm just going to incorporate it. So I go out and the whole thing to me is fine because I'm getting to do the thing I love more than anything.
You mentioned your mother trying to mold you. How did she react to where your life and career have gone?
Well, I had a phase when I was sort of mainstream and real clean-cut looking up until '69. I was on TV a lot and she was able to preen and enjoy that, and good for her. My feelings on her are mixed. They're not all negative, I don't want you to think that. Then when I began to do this changing thing and express myself differently and use filthy language and attack religion and big business, she was horrified. But she came around to it because it made me even more popular. She had an essential need to live through her children. She always said, "You are a reflection of me." The ultimate reflection she had to accept was that a lot of people liked me and liked what I did and liked me for my mind in spite of a beard she didn't care for and etc. etc. So as her life continued, she became more reconciled to it.
Mike Starling's original music is heard on numerous recordings and soundtracks, and his stories and photos have been featured in books, films, mags and other media.
starlingarchive.weebly.com is the authorized website for samples of published work by the Wisconsin-based writer, artist and musician Mike Starling. Photo of Starling on assignment in Ireland by J. Winke. George Carlin photo courtesy georgecarlin.com. Website developed and managed by Nine Volt Media. ©MMXX-MMXXIII. All rights reserved.