Barry Crimmins : Political Satirist

So long, Obes

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Ken Ober 1957-2009

I am very fortunate to be able to say that Ken Ober and I were friends for about 30 years.

On the long-ago day he walked into the Ding Ho Comedy Club in Cambridge, Ma. to do a guest set to demonstrate his already advanced skills as a stand-up comic, Kenny embodied two words that applied to too few people (present company, especially) in the comedy racket: no problem.

As the player-manager of the Ding, I had to sort through dozens of acts and decide who'd be booked at the club. Ken's response to every booking he received was gracious and appreciative. He never bugged me for more than he got. Instead he went out and made himself all the more valuable with each appearance. His act was funny and smart, finished in more of a hushed satin than a shiny gloss. He was as hilarious off-stage as on and he made friends of absolutely everyone. Including me.

Although he was an expert needler, he knew exactly how not to be a pain in the ass. During a period when I was besieged by people wasting my time by beating around the bush looking for dates, Ken never squandered a moment of my too-busy days. This was just a small part of the reason I so enjoyed his inordinately good company. I don't recall how it started, but early on Ken and I began mockingly calling each other frattish nicknames. This was not out of respect for the ludicrous campus Greek traditions we had scuffed up against in college. No, it was disdain for the dildoic that made him "Obes" and me "Cribs." This gag, which had been fleshed out over eons of sarcasm and enough drinks to swell a rhino's liver, stuck for the duration of our friendship. It personalized it and gave it a special status. While talking this summer we finally acknowledged that we had become what we had resisted since the days at the Ding: long lost frat brothers from the old Grabba Break house in Cambridge.

By then I knew something else: Ken Ober, with his quick smile/sly grin and even quicker wit, made all of his friends feel special. He had an unerring eye for just what was valuable in a person. This applied to both his private and public life. He took the time to get to know people and in the process smothered them in drawing salve that brought out the best in them. Was he perfect or saintly? Hell no! But he was the absolute finest of what is an otherwise trite term: a people person. Ken got along with just about everyone and he did so without being phony. Remarkable!

This sincere affability served Kenny as he became one of the first Boston comics of our era to venture to exotic locales to conquer the beast that is show business. In no time at all he was hosting Remote Control, a "game show" on MTV that shattered all precedents and put several people, including Ken, on square footing for their ascent up the escalator to the stars. After RC, Ken Ober went on to master radio in LA and more television with several stints hosting, acting and writing. Of course he made a few zillion more friends along the way.

When I would be on tour with various musical luminaries, Kenny would inevitably show up unannounced. Because he was a human backstage laminate at any venue, he almost never bothered me to put him on the guest list. No sooner would he arrive in my dressing room then it would become clear Ken was already pals with at least half the band and road crew with whom I'd been traveling. No matter how well I got along with a tour before Ken arrived, once he had come and blessed us with a visit, things always got better. I can't say for sure whether I ever introduced him to anyone he didn't already know.

Time passed and Ken and I would lose touch for large periods of it. But all it took for us to pick up where we'd left off was a "Cribs!" or "Obes!" on the other end of the phone.

I feel very fortunate that Ken decided to write me this year on our shared birthday (more glue for our friendship) to tell me how much he loved the old days at the Ding and how he often thinks of me. Because of this generosity, Obes and Cribs were reunited by phone. We remained in touch over what were to be the final weeks of his life. We discussed the good old days and the grim new ones (you try being over 50 in show biz as it's consolidated into humongous dull bulk by corporate masters determined to eliminate wasteful things like people who know what the fuck they're doing.) We'd then change the subject and talk baseball -- Red Sox/Yankees and even some Dodgers.

We also spoke a lot about dogs. In the recent past we'd both lost amazing hounds. Ken had lost Monty and I had lost Lloyd. We were relieved to find someone else who so deeply grieved a pooch. We'd both brought new dogs into our lives, not to fill the voids our loved ones left behind but to instead pay down the huge debt to the canine community we ran up from having had dogs who had fit so perfectly into our lives. Of course we both fell madly for our new friends even though (Ken's) Bear and (my) Lettie and Lu aren't Monty and Lloyd.

Yesterday, when the horrible news of Ken's death reached me, my first thought was of Bear. As tough as it is for humans to lose Ken, it has to be worse for his dog. I've been assured that Bear is in good hands but I feel so bad for him because as unbelievable as Ken's sudden death is to his family and legions of pals, it's got to be worse for a dog who was man's best friend to one of the best men ever. Poor Bear!

I can't imagine I'll ever get over Ken's ridiculously premature death (he was 52). Ask anyone who knew him (and believe me, there won't be anywhere near six degrees of separation between you and Ken) and they'll tell you that he was such a solid and unswerving friend that it seemed like he would always, always be there. Now that he isn't, those of us who were graced by his magnificent friendship know we cannot ever replace him. What we can do is begin to pay down the debt we owe to humanity for having had Ken Ober in our lives for as long as we did. So if you loved Kenny, track down an old friend today to see how they're doing or maybe stop and encourage that taken-for-granted intern on your staff. Take your dog for an extra long walk and let her or him sneak up on the couch. Don't have a dog? Adopt one. Can't have a dog? Make a donation to a no-kill shelter near you.

Often it's difficult to find an appropriate way to honor a departed friend. This is not so with Ken Ober because to emulate him is to honor him. Quite appropriately, to do so is no problem.

last updated Tuesday, November 17, 2009 5:12 PM

COMMENT ON THIS

CarolSunday, November 22nd 2009 9:20AM

Barry,
Such beautiful words to honor such a beautiful human being. You captured Ken's spirit so perfectly. I was around in the Ding Ho days and have wonderful memories of that time. Ken and I were good friends after college and we both substitute taught in different school systems. We watched Reagan being elected. He heroically removed a bat with an umbrella from my apartment building in Brookline when I couldn't get down the stairs to go for dinner. Last time I saw Ken was when he came to town and we went to a Red Sox game. I can't believe he's gone. Ken's life and your words should inspire us all.
Thank you.
Carol

sueSunday, November 22nd 2009 1:52AM

you were one of the first people i thought of upon hearing of kenny's death. he spoke of you with so much love and respect, and of course, the icing on the cake, july 3rd. we are all so fortunate to have had him in our lives. i miss him dearly.

ScooterFriday, November 20th 2009 2:16PM

Never heard of the guy, I took 40 years off from TV, but I fell like I know the guy, cribs, you're quite the wordsmith.

Anyhow, as we creep toward sixties some of our best work becomes Obituary.

Fantastic Eulogies and Good Riddance, motherfucker rants.

Losing epic overwhelming souls, friends, lovers, and mates is harder than dying, albeit, I'm speculating on that point.

I just keep in mind that the last thing we do is the ultimate act of grace, as in getting out of the way.

Peace
scooter

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alisonFriday, November 20th 2009 2:15AM

i know i will never have another friend as genuine as ken, who loved and encouraged and supported me always.

my heart is broken and i can't believe he is gone.

thank you for your true words. i feel comforted knowing that someone else loved him as much as i did. many prayers for sweet bear.

goodnight ken, hug monty for me.

Mark PittaFriday, November 20th 2009 1:21AM

Beautiful words, Barry. Just wanted to let you know that my dog is going to get more treats tonight and extra love.
I had just watched a few episodes I had of Make Me Laugh and then to hear of his passing...well, it's difficult to just get news like that and move on with your day.
Thanks again...

John MarshallWednesday, November 18th 2009 2:25PM

Thank you for this wonderful tribute. Ken was a great man. I was fortunate enough to be able to work with him at Tough Crowd. He created a warm, open atmosphere and ran the funniest writers meetings I've ever been in. I also have vivid memories of seeing him in his office, with his dog sleeping at his feet. Dogs were not allowed in the building and I always wondered how he managed that. After reading your piece, I can see that it was "no problem."

Thank you again.

ADD YOUR COMMENT

Jimi CelesteWednesday, November 18th 2009 9:45AM

Barry
Thank you for this tribute. I never really knew Ken, but now I do and I miss him.

CharlieWednesday, November 18th 2009 7:08AM

Sorry, buddy. I loved Obers on Remote Control, I think it was the only MTV I ever really remember.
PS
I always make sure I "forget" to put the tin foil up on the couch that is suppose to discourage Big B (Bart) from getting up there.
Lord knows I'd hate to be resigned to the floor (even when I haven't stumbled home slightly waffle eyed).

Charlie

Francis solomitaWednesday, November 18th 2009 12:58AM

beautiful eulogy Barry! he really was a kind heart and funny man. i was lucky enough to break bread with him only 2 weeks ago, and he seemed great. he was going to start coming to my son's baseball games at Santa Monica High because he lived nearby. such a loss. thanks for a really nice piece. be well.

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Ken Ober gone but not forgottenTuesday, November 17th 2009 11:08PM

Ken was a true gentleman...kind, understanding and polite always.
The times I spent with Ken I felt we could have been brothers.......Barry I never realized how close you two were but I understand why you would revere him...We will miss you Ken...

martinTuesday, November 17th 2009 6:33PM

thanks barry. i loved ken and was devastated. thanks for the perfect words.

henrietteTuesday, November 17th 2009 5:33PM

great... and of course I love the shirt..... that says Kenny is the bright red he always loved!!!

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Lou AngelwolfTuesday, November 17th 2009 5:31PM

Mr. Crimmins-Those are nice words for an old friend.
I admire you both as artists. I would have liked to shared
an ale with you guys.
Be well.-Lou

Lisa Goich-AndreadisTuesday, November 17th 2009 5:01PM

If I can see the screen through my tears, I'd like to thank you for such a beautiful tribute to our friend, Ken. Rembrandt wouldn't have been able to paint a better or more accurate picture. This line says it all:

"He took the time to get to know people and in the process smothered them in drawing salve that brought out the best in them."

I just said to someone this morning that Ken made you feel like you were the most important person in the world to him, ALWAYS. To be able to do that SINCERELY is truly proof that he was an amazing human being.

I, too, immediately thought of Bear upon hearing of Ken's death. Didn't skip a beat. First words out of my mouth were, "No! No! No! Fuck! What?!? I just talked to him FRIDAY!" Then, "What about Bear?" We now know that Bear is in good hands, and Ken can officially go gently into that good night knowing that his best pal will be a-okay. I like to think that dogs know - on a spiritual level - that we have just moved to a different plane. I wouldn't be surprised if they're able to communicate with us even when we're not here in this world anymore. I think Bear "knows." And I think Bear alerted Monty who met Ken on the other side, with a wagging tail and open paw.

Thank you again, Barry, for this tribute. And thank you, Ken, for gracing our lives.

So sorryTuesday, November 17th 2009 5:00PM

Barry, so sorry for your loss, and thanks for writing so eloquently. I only know KO from Remote Control, but he made that very silly show smart and funny.
Nan

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Kenny OTuesday, November 17th 2009 4:36PM

Thanks for a lovely tribute to a lovely person. It seems that Kenny spent this last year of his life reconnecting with so many from his earlier days. I went to high school with him. Unlike so many teenage boys, he had no walls and no pretense. It was possible to get really deep with him. I am sorry for our shared loss
•Molly Reynolds