---
TENTERTAINMENT
Comedian
London Lee's
act shows
how the
poor little
rich kid
grew up.
London's Bridge
RITA CHARLESTON
H
Special to The Jewish News
,
e admits that he
may have been a
little shyer, a little
more mixed up and
a little richer than
most.
So after rejecting the notion
that he go into his father's
knitwear business in New
York, London Lee sought the
help of a psychiatrist to sort
out his career goals.
Like many nice Jewish boys,
especially only sons, Lee (born
Levine) tried working in his
father's busiriess for awhile. "I
became a salesman and I was
good at it," he recalls. "But I
hated it. I wanted something
different. So after a while, I
just stopped working
altogether. I just sat around
and did nothing. But I got
tired of that too. After all, at
the end of the day you never
know if you're finished:'
So he decided to try and
"find" himself. "Ha," he
laughs, "how many times
have you heard that? But I
was serious, so I started to go
to a psychiatrist and through
him, honestly, I decided to
become a comedian."
Lee did have some enter-
tainment experience. At age
17, with money he had re-
ceived from his bar mitzvah,
he bought a record company
and called it U.S.A. Records.
In fact, for his first recording
artist, he says, he managed to
hook Diahann Carroll. Be-
sides becoming a short-lived
record maven, Lee knew he
also had the ability to make
people laugh. But still, he
wondered, was show business
really for him?
At first, even though he
liked the idea, he hesitated. "I
said my father would faint,
he'd go nuts."
Still, one night, while
reading the newspaper, Lee
saw an ad for someone to drive
a car to California. Why not,
he thought. So, at age 21,
vitrually inexperienced but
full of hope, he sublet his
apartment, sold his furniture
and set out for a new life on
the West coast. But once he ar-
rived, he wasn't quite sure
what he was supposed to do
next.
"Doctors go to medical
school. Lawyers go to law
school. But where do comics
go to learn their trade? Well,
one day I was walking down
Hollywood Boulevard and
passed this magic store where
they sold joke books. I bought
four of them, memorized them
and developed this routine
about a fat girl. That's really
how I got started," he
volunteers.
One of his first jobs was got-
ten thanks to a chance en-
'I was born in
England so my
mother named me
after the city of
my birth. Thank
God I wasn't born
in Elizabeth, N.J.'
counter with Sally Mars, Len-
ny Bruce's mother, who liked
the young Lee and brought
him home to meet her son.
"Lenny was great," says Lee.
"I idolized him. And it was
Lenny who got me a job as an
emcee at a strip joint. I started
doing my fat girl jokes, but
when I tried them at the club
the men started to boo and
hiss. I thought I was a failure.
My jokes- weren't going over
and I was scared to death.
"One night I started think-
ing aloud about being rich and
developed a routine about it.
One of my first jokes was
about asking my father to get
me what the poor kids had.
My mother said he shoUld buy
me a slum but to make sure
it was in a good neighbor-
hood!"
And so, after polishing his
act, London Lee, the profes-
sional rich kid, was born. It
wasn't long before audiences
around the country were
laughing at his unusual and
unprecedented material.
Between 1965 and 1975,
Lee's career progressed en-
viably. He appeared frequent-
ly on Ed Sullivan's show, did
more than 80 spots with Mery
Griffin, and even appeared in
a major motion picture. On the
outside, at least, it seemed as
though Lee had finally made
all his dreams come true. Ac-
tually, however, he says his
world was just beginning to
fall apart.
His marriage was in trouble.
He and his wife separated and
took four years to go through
a messy divorce. Then his
father died. Before long, his
mother, too, passed on. Lee
says an unbearable depression
took hold and for a long time
he was completely unable to
bring himself to work
anymore. He says it was time -
to retreat from the limelight
and spend some time in self-
evaluation. He says he realizes
now how that self-imposed
hiatus hurt his career, but at
the time he just couldn't do
anything about it.
After traveling to Europe for
several years, finishing college
and writing some new
material, Lee returned to the
stage with new thoughts and
insights. About four years ago,
he finally began to pick up the
pieces of his life and, with
renewed determination, get on
with the business of living.
"I knew I had to turn my life
around," he explains. "I sud-
denly realized I didn't have
much of a family left anymore.
No wife, no mother, no father.
But I did have two daughters
and I knew I just couldn't
allow everything to fall apart.
I knew I had to get hold of
myself and begin to rebuild!'
Today, Lee still talks a little
about being rich. He even
remembers his psychiatrist in
joke form: "My psychiatrist
was half-Hindu, half-Jewish.
He believed that when he died
he would be reincarnated with
good credit."
He also talks a lot about
relationships. For example, he
laughs, "happiness to me and
Mike Tyson is seeing our
GOING PLACES
I
WEEK OF
APRIL 21-27
COMEDY
COMEDY CASTLE
593 Woodward, Berkley,
Rhonda Hansome, now
through April 29,
admission. 542-9900.
THEATER
SHAW FESTIVAL
Niagara-on-the-Lake,
Ontario, Man and
Superman, now
through Oct. 15,
admission. (416)
468-2172.
MEADOW BROOK
THEATRE
Oakland University,
Rochester, admission.
377-3300.
PERFORMANCE
NETWORK
408 W. Washington,
Ann Arbor, India Song,
now through April 30,
admission. 663-0681.
BIRMINGHAM
THEATRE
211 S. Woodward,
Birmingham, Broadway
Bound, now through
May 7, admission.
644-3533,
THE THEATRE
COMPANY
Smith Theatre,
University of Detroit,
Strange Show, now
through April 30,
admission. 927-1130.
FARMINGTON
PLAYERS
32332 W. 12 Mile,
Farmington Hills, Pack
of Lies, now now
through April 30, May
4-7 and May 11-13,
admission. 538-1670.
WEST BLOOMFIELD
HIGH SCHOOL
4925 Orchard Lake Rd.,
On a Clear Day You
Can See Forever, today
and Saturday,
admission.
MUSIC
BRUNCH WITH
BACH
Detroit Institute of
Arts, 5200 Woodward,
"A Reasonable
Facsimile," Ann and
Rob Burns play popular
music of Shakespeare's
time, Sunday,
admission. 832 2730.
-
Continued on Page 66
THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS
55