A Pee-wee by any other name ...

There's something oddly familiar about the impish host of ABC's "You Don't Know Jack." Plus: Martin Short in "Primetime Glick."

By Joyce Millman

Jul 9, 2001 | At some point or other, all of the obituaries for Carroll O'Connor turned into eulogies for Archie Bunker. And that may be the greatest tribute an actor could receive, being elbowed out of his own obit by a character he created.

Since TV actors stick with the same roles for years and years, it's no wonder that their characters take on lives of their own. In the end, the actor is only the conduit, the medium, through which Archie Bunker or Mary Richards or Fox Mulder communicates with viewers. You don't need a crystal ball to see the subheads on the TV-star obituaries of the future: "Played Tony Soprano"; "Best known as 'Xena, Warrior Princess'"; "Was Kramer."

Paul Reubens has already seen his obituary in print. It went something like this: "Kiddie star Pee-wee Herman arrested for indecent exposure in a porno movie theater." For that July 1991 misdemeanor, Reubens lost everything. The media coverage was cruelly efficient -- for his part, Reubens should have known that as an idol of children, he'd be held to higher standards of behavior. CBS promptly canceled "Pee-wee's Playhouse," the multi-Emmy-winning Saturday morning kids' show that wasn't quite a kids' show. Reubens -- or rather, Pee-wee -- became a punch line for talk-show hosts and a punching bag for pundits, politicians and anyone with a stick up his or her ass who had always been suspicious of Pee-wee's fey vibe. Pee-wee Herman was dead. And his fans never even got a chance to mourn.

Devastated by the harsh, swift judgment of public opinion (hang in there, Paula Poundstone), Reubens went into a long seclusion. His friend, director Tim Burton, lured him out for a poignant cameo in "Batman Returns," and he eventually took a small role in the original film version of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." But Reubens was, in effect, banished from TV until 1994, when the producers of "Murphy Brown" brought him on for a non-Pee-wee role as the boss's scheming nephew, Andrew Lansing. Reubens' overgrown brattiness caught on with viewers and he became a semi-regular, earning an Emmy nomination for the role. Since then, Reubens has taken on larger movie roles, most recently playing a hairdresser cum coke dealer in the Johnny Depp film "Blow."

On a promo tour for "Blow," Reubens made his first appearance in years on David Letterman's show. As Pee-wee, he'd been a Letterman regular, making Dave squirm with discomfort at his campy antics, but Reubens had never been on the show as himself. Speaking softly and wearing an incongruous shag hairdo, Reubens told funny stories about meeting his fans and going home with them for dinner. The audience bathed him in affection (even Dave seemed to be rooting for him) and burst into applause when he revealed that he was writing a new Pee-wee Herman movie.

America has learned a lot about celebrity shame and forgiveness since 1991. If only Reubens had had the foresight to not get busted until after O.J., after Hugh Grant, after Bill Clinton, after Robert Downey Jr., then perhaps his "shocking crime" would not have been pounced on by the media. Perhaps Reubens would have been able to retire Pee-wee in his own time, on his own terms.

But Reubens seems ready for a Pee-wee resurrection now. In order to be Pee-wee again, though, he has to go through a series of delicate transformations so that the vast, ticklish TV-watching public won't get freaked out. His "Murphy Brown" character, an adult brat with Pee-wee's close-cropped hair and nyah-nyah inflection, was Step 1. Step 2 is Reubens' current gig hosting ABC's game show "You Don't Know Jack," in the guise of a disco-suited scamp named "Troy Stevens."

Next Page: Pee-wee's big comeback?

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