I woke up this morning to the very sad news of Barry Crimmins’ passing yesterday.
When I first met Barry in the mid to late 80s, I was an intern putting together 3-5 minute comedy segments to air on WFNX’s morning show and he was running comedy nights at the legendary Ding Ho in Harvard Square. Morning Guy Tai introduced me to him as the guy who hated comedy. The truth was I didn’t really hate comedy, but I hated predictable comedy. Far too many comedians whose tapes I pulled segments from fell into the trap of two jokes that for me had long-lost their steam.
“Why do women always go to the bathroom in pairs? They forget how to sit down by themselves?” Ha ha. Yuck yuck. Whatever. By the third time I’d heard a derivative of that joke it stopped being even slightly funny. It got so I could predict what comedians were going to say it and when during their act they’d pull out that little gem.
“Have you ever noticed that only foreigners work at the 7-eleven? What’s up with that?” Really? That’s funny? It’s an entry-level job, where else are they supposed to get their start? You didn’t hurt yourself coming up with that line, did you?
It was that kind of comedy I hated. So what did Barry say when Tai told him I hated comedians?
“What’s the matter? You don’t like it when comedians ask women why they go to the bathroom in pairs?”
I cringed internally.
“Maybe they don’t want to get hit on by unoriginal, asshole comedians like you?”
BAM! I instantly liked him!
“That’s actually part of my act, I don’t like unoriginal comedians either,” he said and held his hand out to shake.
I was a fan of Barry’s and ran into him many times over the years. Every time I’d see him he’d greet me with a hug, thank me for supporting comedy in Boston, and try to convince me to see a show. I hadn’t spoken to Barry in years when we found each other on Facebook, I was shocked that he remembered me at all. But again, he thanked me for supporting Boston comedy all those years ago.
What Barry did for comedy, and the Boston scene in particular, was legendary. He gave comedians a chance to try stuff out and strongly encouraged originality. The roster of comedians who he mentored and helped kickstart their careers is almost mythical and far too long for me to list; countless national acts and tons of local ones, too.
I urge you all to see the documentary, Call Me Lucky. Bobcat Goldthwait, one of the many comedians whom Barry helped and who was by his side when he passed, produced the documentary celebrating Barry’s remarkable life. Barry was a champion of so many underdogs but none more so than victims of childhood sexual abuse, of which Barry was a victim himself. When Barry discovered how chatrooms were being used by predators in the early days of the internet, he infiltrated them, taught the FBI how to infiltrate them, and then took on AOL in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee for allowing predators to continue using AOL’s chatrooms.
I hadn’t seen him in years and it’s not like we hung out that much. I have several friends on social media who did hang out with him a lot and my heart aches for them. Still, hearing of his passing stings. I genuinely liked Barry and had immense respect for him. Thank you, Barry, for giving Boston a comedy scene and for championing so many marginalized groups. The world could use more people like you, not less. Rest peacefully, Barry.
Duke of Dead Air 