Hey, everyone. “Moriarty” here.
Bernie Brillstein is not a household name, but he’s been a major part of the Hollywood comedy scene for decades now, and it would be hard to overstate the influence he’s had on what has made us laugh onscreen for the majority of my life. He passed away at the age of 77 on Wednesday of last week, and it is important to not only acknowledge that passing, but to make sure we all understand just how important his presence was.
Brillstein was Old Hollywood. He was one of those guys who started in the mailroom at the William Morris Agency, something that used to be one of the classic stepping-stone jobs in this town. He worked his way up inside that agency, moving from the mailroom to publicity to commercials representation. Eventually, his work led him to the TV packaging department for a while before he left to join a fledgling management company, Martin Kummer Associates.
One of the things that motivated me to stop talking about Los Angeles and actually move out here was the sudden, shocking death of Jim Henson in 1990. I can’t overstate how much Henson’s work means to me, so one of the huge karmic debts I owe to Brillstein was because of the way he supported Henson from the very start. Brillstein managed him in the early days, getting him his first gigs on THE JIMMY DEAN SHOW, and I have to wonder what the world would have missed if someone like Brillstein hadn’t seen real potential in something as oddball as a guy with a dog puppet. The year I was born, Brillstein left the management company he worked for and started his own business, where he built his client roster using comedy writers for TV. Guys like Jay Tarses and Tom Patchett, two of the sitcom megastars of the ‘80s, as well as a young Lorne Michaels and a young Alan Zweibel, were the lifeblood of Brillstein’s start-up, and in 1975, he played a key role in shepherding two TV series onto the air that I consider defining: THE MUPPET SHOW and SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE. I cannot imagine pop culture without either of them, and to his great credit, Brillstein had to push hard to not only get them on the air, but to keep them there.
As the SNL cast grew in fame and power, so did Brillstein since he wisely represented most of them for film and television. Brillstein helped Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi nurture their Blues Brothers alter-egos into genuine commercial forces, including their album deals and their movie. One of the innovations that Brillstein helped make commonplace in the business was the way he served as an executive producer on projects that his clients created. Because he was financially involved in their projects, he fought to make them happen even when there was resistance, like with GHOSTBUSTERS, a film that was shopped around town quite a bit before Columbia finally stepped in and bought it. The mid-80s comedy landscape depended largely on his client list, both on TV (BUFFALO BILL, ALF, THE GARY SHANDLING SHOW) and on the bigscreen, where SNL alumni seemed to star in pretty much everything that was made. After a brief stint running Lorimar, he started over again with Brillstein-Grey, the management company that was the comedy powerhouse of the ‘90s. He was called “the Jewish Santa Claus” by many who knew him, and I’ve heard from everyone who knew him that he was a mensch, a hugely decent person, and one of the last of the guys in this town to really walk the walk regarding loyalty and decency.
His memorial service will be held in Los Angeles on Monday, a private affair, but I’m willing to bet it will the epicenter of comedy for the last three decades as some amazing people come to pay their respects to a man who, by all accounts, deserved that respect and then some.
Drew McWeeny, Los Angeles
Drew McWeeny, Los Angeles
