I sure wish I'd gotten to see Shecky Greene in what some said was his perfect environment: A showroom in a casino hotel where the management didn't care if he went overtime. Not a lot of Vegas-type performers had that honor. 97% of them could do whatever they wanted on that stage just as long as they finished when they were supposed to finish. After all, every extra minute you're sitting in that showroom getting a show is a minute you're not out at the roulette table losing next month's mortgage payment.
But most casinos let Shecky go as long as he wanted…within reason. They did this mainly because they couldn't stop him and he was a tremendous draw, particularly with high-roller customers. An old Vegas showroom manager once told me Shecky brought in the kind of patron who on the way in or out might easily drop a grand or three.
One of his devoted fans who definitely did not fall into that category was my father who loved visiting Vegas but came back distressed if he'd lost more than about forty bucks at the tables. That loss was mitigated though if he'd gotten to see his favorite entertainer. He'd come back raving about how unbelievably funny Shecky Greene was.
Like I said: I wish I'd gotten to see what my father saw but by the time I began to go to Vegas, Mr. Greene was semi-retired and I never seemed to be there when he did his occasional few nights at some hotel.
I did get to meet him one day in, of all places, a doctor's office in Beverly Hills. I was there for some sort of simple matter and while waiting to see my doctor, I ran into the comedian Charlie Brill, whose doctor happened to share an office with my doctor. Charlie said, "Hey, Mark…have you ever met Shecky Greene?" And sure enough, there next to him was Shecky Greene. I think Shecky, who ordinarily lived in Vegas, was visiting L.A. and needed some sort of medical attention…so Charlie brought him to his doctor and…
Well, all you need to know is that I suddenly found myself introduced to Shecky Greene. I immediately began babbling to him about all the joy he'd given my father over the years and how I wish he was playing Vegas more then so maybe I could see what my father had described to me. I said, "I'll tell you how funny you are. You were even funny when my father, who worked for the Internal Revenue Service, was telling me what you said and what you did on stage." He took it as a compliment and said, "Hey, I don't work so hard these days but maybe we can get your father to do my act some night at the Riviera."
Sadly, the Riviera hotel isn't there anymore and now, neither is Shecky Greene. Here's a link to a real good obituary about the man and here are links to Part One and Part Two of an interview of him by my pal Kliph Nesteroff.