Lenny Bruce: reviled and revered

by David Grand
September 30, 2004

He was an American comedian, the ultimate hipster, whose rapid-fire delivery, often obscene language, and fearless tackling of taboo subjects were groundbreaking in the field of standup comedy. As one of his later-day disciples George Carlin sums it up: "Lenny Bruce opened the doors, or kicked them down, for all guys like me, refiguring the free-speech movement and helping push the culture forward into the light of open and honest expression." And Richard Pryor in paying tribute to him said, "He was prosecuted when he should've been treasured."

What brought his name to mind was when I was watching Bill Maher's Friday night talk show called Real Time on HBO, and listening to his monologue and his interchange with the guests on his roundtable, laced liberally with four-letter- words that would've made Lenny proud.

For while I never knew him personally, I knew of him indirectly in the late 50s when renting a home at the rear of his father's property in Arcadia, California. His name was Myron Schneider which was Lenny's surname. His mother's name I later learned was Sally, who raised him along with his aunt Mema after her and Myron were divorced shortly after he was born.

My relationship with his father wasn't anything like the typical, distant one between a landlord and a tenant. He was a frequent visitor to my small, stucco house and would always bring candies for my three sons (the number of which didn't rise to five until moving back east in the early 60s).

And he'd often engage me in conversation, mainly about his wayward son Lenny, and how his heart was broken each time he read of him being arrested for obscenity during his performances. He showed me, as his eyes moistened, a gold watch he'd gotten from him several years back with the inscription "To Dad, Love Lenny."

That was the last he heard from him, and that he only prayed that his lovely, blond granddaughter Kitty, who was born in 1955 (the same year he divorced his former nightclub stripper wife Honey) would not suffer from the breakup. But happily, she was taken in by her grandmother Sally Marr shortly afterwards.

He'd said many times that he wished I had been his son, and would even give me pairs of shoes from the shoe store he owned in Hollywood. They weren't the style of shoes I'd wear, but I never told him that for fear of hurting his feelings. And I regret to this day not keeping in touch with him after packing up my family a year later and moving to San Jose, Calif. to work for the Lockheed Missile and Space Company. But I'm thankful I wasn't in Arcadia when he got word of Lenny dying with his head in the toilet from a heroin overdose in 1966. I know it would've been like driving a stake into his heart.

Perhaps these quotes from what his daughter Kitty said in an article about her father best expresses what Lenny was all about: "His truths were based on our most coveted lies, leaving no room for rationalized bigotry or self-deception...he seduced his audience with a rhythmic and dynamic use of his own language, acting as a slow pull of a Band-Aid off denial...he said we had the best judicial system in the world, and yet that very system he so respected destroyed one of the finest and most prismatic minds of our time...and one of his greatest assets as a performer was his charm that made you like him, although apparently he didn't have that effect on those who found him obscene."