Meeting Robin Williams
Meeting my Heroes is an occasional essay series from Matt Carmichael.
I grew up, of course, watching Mork and Mindy, which oddly was a spin off of Happy Days. I assume the episode where an alien visits the Cunningham’s was after the show “jumped the shark.” But Mork was an alien played by Robin Williams, one of the most amazing comics and actors ever.
My younger self memorized Robin Williams’ routine, “Live at the Met.” Night after night I listened to the cassette with headphones after bedtime. Tethered to the boombox radio by my bed. A lot of it was over my head at that age. Years and years later I was still finally understanding some of the jokes in moments of inappropriate enlightenment. But man, it was always funny.
Later I watched his movies and was amazed at his range and talent as an actor. From a serial killer to Mrs. Doubtfire the guy could do it all. Awakenings. Dead Poets. Good Will Hunting. Amazing films. He was a solid human, too, co-founding a charitable organization called Comic Relief.
I always said that if he did stand-up again I’d get on a plane. In the end, I didn’t have to. He opened his 2002 tour in Chicago and I got tickets and third-wheeled Sean and Erin’s anniversary date. Sorry, not sorry.
Then a crazy thing happened. I was hired by Getty to shoot Robin Williams receiving a career achievement award from the Chicago International Film Festival in 2004. As a huge fan, I was thrilled and couldn't believe I would get paid rather than have to pay for this gig. I shot the red carpet arrivals. Then his acceptance speech turned into 15 minutes of stand-up, because of course it did.
After his speech he came into the crowd to cut a birthday cake they had brought in for him in the center of the auditorium. At the same time, I was cutting across to the other side of the venue for a different angle. There was no way to avoid it. Our paths were going to cross.
I'd heard that during his legendary “Inside the Actors Studio" appearance, James Lipton had said that he had always dreamed of going to Williams’ alma mater and my rival school, Detroit Country Day. Supposedly Williams responded that he had always wanted to go to Cranbrook (my high school.) I have not been able to corroborate this but I will believe it’s true because it’s amazing.
As we briskly walked by each other, I said to him "I'm sorry you didn't go to Cranbrook." He looked at me like, "where on earth did that come from, I wish I had time to let you explain," and then he was off again. But for one, tiny instant I managed to knock one of the most frenetic people ever literally off his stride. I couldn't be more proud.
In Dead Poets Society, Williams plays a teacher at a school not entirely unlike Cranbrook. During his first class, he quotes Robert Herrick to his students, “Gather thee rosebuds while thee may.” And ties it back to Horace’s “Carpe Diem.” The latter I translated myself in Doc’s class: Seize the day. This concept shows up in stoicism, also from our Roman friends. Memento Mori: Remember that we must die. I have a coin that says that. But its flip side flips that. Memento Viveri: Remember, too, that we must live. I find it’s good to remember both.
Because sometimes you don’t even get a day to seize. Sometimes it’s just the briefest moment in passing. With Robin Williams, seize it I did. And I’m glad. Because I would like nothing more than to have the chance to explain that comment to him, and now I never will.
Cranbrook had many differences from the East Coast boarding schools, or the British ones. But Cranbrook had some of the Dead Poets Society vibe.
A great teacher will teach you a lot more than just their assigned subject. And not all of the learning will happen the classroom. Some of my favorites were: Mrs. Gibbs and Ms. Mosner, Mrs. Appleman, who shared her personal creativity with me to inspire my own in 2nd grade; Mrs. Sneed. Mrs. Lamb and Mr. Lamb. Mr. Hazard. Mr. Tweet. Mr. Mogul, Mr. Schultz, Ms. Matson. Mr. Smart, who wasn’t just my art teacher and first boss (at Day Camp) but was my mom’s teacher, too; Mr. Cooper who encouraged my photography; Mr. McColl, my most Dead Poets teacher who treated us like grown-ups and taught us history through art and literature; some teachers who believed in me and some whose disappointment in me (belief let down, really) encouraged me to strive harder just to “show them.”
But the next two folks you’ll meet did or said something… even something tiny, that changed who I am and how I got here.