Memories of my friend, Harvey Pekar

Culture Monster contributor and dance reviewer Victoria Looseleaf remembers here how she befriended Harvey Pekar, who died early Monday at age 70, and of the day the comic book writer was almost kicked off "Late Night with David Letterman."

The city of Cleveland is mourning. Not because LeBron James decamped for Miami but because the much-maligned town has lost one of its true originals: Harvey Pekar, the surly comic book writer who began chronicling his hum-drum life in 1976 with the publication of “American Splendor.”

Since I too grew up on those sometimes harsh streets of Cleveland, I reached out to Harvey on a visit home in the early 1980s after becoming a “Splendor” fan.  His number was listed, I called and, bringing bagels and cream cheese, I arrived at his cluttered Cleveland Heights apartment to talk about, well, life.  For him that was toiling for years as a file clerk at the Veterans Affairs hospital, jazz, Cleveland's lousy winters and just getting by.

Thus began our friendship, if it's possible to be friends with someone suffering from anhedonia, the inability to experience joy. But I loved Harvey's unjoie de vivre, and a few years after starting my public access cable show, “The Looseleaf Report,” in 1987, Harvey made the first of numerous appearances.  “Splendor” had been adapted for the small stage, with Dan Castellaneta (voice of Homer Simpson) playing Harvey and Siobhan Fallon assaying Harvey's wife. Did he like it?

Bah!

But I continued to champion him, even taping segments for the show in Cleveland, with Harvey, an old Jewish mensch named Emile, and genuine nerd, Toby Radloff.  We riffed about doughnuts, work, Jewish holidays, whatever.  One story concerned the time that Harvey, bearing bagels, came to see me at my grandmother's (he loved old people), only to leave and discover his car had been towed. How Pekaresque is that?

I also happened to be in New York in 1987 when the curmudgeonly scribe was almost booted off Letterman's show because he wanted to talk about NBC's parent company, General Electric.  But Dave would have none of it. Harvey then blurts out, “You're full of [expletive], Dave,” and boom, they cut to commercial.  Harvey, of course, turned the episode into a comic book -- and much as I harped on him -- I didn't make it into Pekar's pages.

Then there was “Splendor,” the movie. In Cleveland again, I forayed down to a funky bakery on a snowy November day to watch the shoot. There was Harvey, kvetching that it was for HBO and nobody would ever see it.

Yeah, well, you can't keep a good anhedonic down. When I interviewed him for The Times for the movie's opening in 2003, I asked him about possible Oscar attention.

“Oscars?” he replied.  “All I see is bleakness.”

And this muttered from a suite at the Bel Age Hotel!

I know you had health issues, Harvey -- cancer, high blood pressure, asthma, and that bugaboo, depression.  But you also gave countless people happiness -- and hope.  I'm gonna miss you, friend, not only your formidable talents but because you're part of what makes Cleveland special.

I'm also grateful for your comics and books ... almost as much as the Harvey bobble-head doll I got at that fabulous red-carpet premiere. Talk about splendor!

-- Victoria Looseleaf

Comments

[Certified Public Accountant]

My condolences to his family and friends

[william wray]

I was such a sickening feeling to watch him commit media suicide on Letterman. I saw it when it happened back in the day and I can’t stand to watch it again. It was so sad that the comic book world finally had a spokesman, but NOOOOO. Harvey had to self- destruct so he could stay miserable.

[Joe]

Media suicide? Harvey humiliated Letterman and GE and made for a great scene in the movie. It was American Splendor indeed. RIP Harvey and thanks for all the great work.

[william wray]

Media suicide in the sense he was never on the show again. If he had been a little less strident he might have continued to be a regular. Harvey humiliated Letterman, the guy who gave him that platform. Chiding him would have been smarter.

[Fellow Buckeye]

In typical Harvey fashion, Harvey may have said "Bah" about the play that ran in Los Angeles for over a year, but while it was running, he was very supportive and came out to Los Angeles to see a few performances and traveled with the cast to San Diego Comic Con. Harvey seemed particularly charmed by Andy Wilson, who played Mr. Boats. Andy was such a dead-ringer for the comic book Mr. Boats, that a cast member approached him on the street and asked him to audition for the role. Now, that's American Splendor! RIP, Andy and Harvey.

If you didn't get a chance to see the play, you can hear a radio version tomorrow night (Friday, 7/16) on KCRW at 7:30.

[Julian]

Nice to read a reminiscence of Harvey by a friend. Harvey was a true anti-celebrity who couldn't help but keep it real. I think his oft- times rocky road didn't leave a lot of room for sunny, warm and fuzzys and that's part of why so many of us could relate to his work. Like Harvey pointed out in one of his stories, sometimes it's the sour-faced pal who's there for you when all the smiling faces have turned you away.

[holly pekar]

leave my unkal aloan quite righting things a bout him he is gone and he is not comming back