Dear Sid Caesar,
There were lots of topics for me to choose from in this, my first Dear So and So in almost a month, but as the song goes, “It had to be you.” Sure, I could have written about the deplorable performance of the Denver Broncos in the Super Bowl, or how one inch of snow basically sent Atlanta into an apocalypse. Or maybe I could have written a brief letter of congratulations to Nick, on the occasion of the birth of his twin girls (by the way, if you don’t do this then you might as well delete me from your friends list). As rich as those topics are, though, there really wasn’t a choice. You never had the opportunity to know this, Sid Caesar (and maybe even if you did you wouldn’t have understood it), but you are a very large reason I am who I am.
Don’t know why? Well I’ll tell ya.
You were one of the first television stars. Not just in America, not just in comedy, but in all of television. Period. You damn near invented the medium. Because of you and your first television endeavor, Your Show of Shows, I have had the privilege to enjoy things that many people don’t realize you are largely responsible for. Here’s a short list (not necessarily in temporal order):
- The Tonight Show
- Laugh-In
- Saturday Night Live
- M*A*S*H (the television show)
- The Dick Van Dyke Show
- By proxy of the above, The Mary Tyler Moore Show
- Milton Berle’s Entire Career
And that’s just the television you helped create/influence! When you expand the list to include people that became massive influences themselves you start seeing names like Larry Gelbart, Neil Simon, Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner, and Woody Allen (please, no trolling on his inclusion on the list. His personal demons aside, if you think Woody Allen hasn’t been a huge pop culture influence over the last 50 years you’re delusional and/or not the least bit funny). But that doesn’t really tell you why you were such a huge part of my life, does it?
First, there is Laughter on the 23rd Floor. That play changed the way I thought about early television. Neil Simon wrote it as an homage and a historical accounting of his time on Your Show of Shows and it opened my eyes to the realities of what life was like back then. Essentially, just like it is now, only with less shiny screens everywhere. Once I understood that things were just as raucous and racy as they are today, i started to see the thinly veiled jokes that to untrained ears just sound like fluff. I could read a double entendre for what it was, not what it sounded like. And once that happened, my 15 year old brain began to have the ability to write jokes for real. Not just fire off with some wit after someone said something, but actually be able to craft a joke from beginning to end, with no initial input from another source.
Then there was the format(s) you created. A talk show with an opening monologue, some guests, and a bunch of comedy sequences? Well if you don’t know that The Tonight Show and Saturday Night Live are two of the biggest influences of this young(ish) man’s life, then you should just talk to me outside of work for about thirty minutes. My entire personality is basically a hodgepodge of monologues and comedy bits. Those monologues and sketch bits were heavily influenced by people that you trained, influenced, or mentored.
In a metaphysical sense, you are me. Or, rather, I am you. Just less funny. Or rich. Or intimately aware of anyone named Imogene.
So when I heard of your passing I had a bit of a moment. Intellectually I knew you had to be going soon anyway. Emotionally, I knew that I was likely to be the only person under 50 that had ever seen any of your stuff, or to be aware of the scope of your influence. But I wasn’t prepared for what happened when I first heard of your demise.
I laughed.
I laughed out loud.
Not because you’re dead, not even I am that crass. No, it was because I thought of this:
That sketch is fifty years old. The funny part? Fake meat is actually a thing now. Health food restaurants like that are everywhere. The idea of seeing a restaurant serve someone a bunch of veggies in a garden tray isn’t really unusual any more BECAUSE IT EXISTS.
Who made fun of it first?
Isaac Sidney Caesar.
Ahead of his time, ahead of his peers, and so far ahead of a man that came to idolize him at a young age that the only goal this kid could possibly aspire to is to be 1/10th as funny, smart, and fast as one of his idols.
Rest In Peace, Sid. Thanks for the laughs.
Thanks for the education.
Love,
Elijah
Dear So and So 