Everyone seems to have a personal story about Paul Reubens, aka Pee-wee Herman. And those stories seem always to revolve around birthdays. I didn’t know Reubens, but apparently half of the people on my Facebook timeline did, because they’re all sharing memories about the lengths Reubens would go to every year to celebrate their big day.
“He loved to make your birthday special,” wrote Joel Stillerman, the former MTV and AMC exec who played a role in helping “Pee-wee’s Playhouse” get made, and later worked with him on the film “Blow.” “The texts, memes, videos and gifs would start in the morning and continue all day until you were in tears, and disbelief that anyone could pull this off. Because you knew that it wasn’t just you.”
Quite honestly, seeing the number of people just on my social media timeline who have a similar Paul Reubens story makes me wonder: If Reubens spent so much time recognizing the birthdays of his hundreds (maybe thousands!) of friends, how did he get anything else done? And yet, to the very end — even through some of those bumpy moments that reminded us that Paul Reubens wasn’t Pee-wee Herman but an honest-to-goodness human being — he was a part of our collective lives.
based on every single story I’ve heard or read about Paul/Pee-wee (let’s face it, we want to just call him Pee-wee, but still want to honor the man who created such an iconic character) in the past few days, it sounds like he was exactly how we hoped he would be. Honest and kind, with a bit of an edge. For those of us in Generation X, who watched Fred Rogers in our preschool days, Pee-wee was the perfect next step. Pee-wee Herman had all the wide-eyed enthusiasm for the world and its people that Mr. Rogers had, but “Pee-wee’s Playhouse” came with an added dose of mirth: a chair named Chairry, a King of Cartoons, a cowboy who would go on to become one of America’s finest actors.
And yet, Pee-wee Herman wasn’t just for my generation. The character, after all, came out of a more adult-oriented bit Reubens honed as a member of the Groundlings comedy troupe. It began as a parody of children’s hosts, the kind that baby boomers (of which Reubens was one) might appreciate. His 1981 HBO special, which introduced Pee-wee Herman to the world, wasn’t even meant for kids.
But soon enough, it became clear that Pee-wee was for everyone — the grown-ups who appreciated the satire and the kids who loved the wackiness. I don’t think Reubens gets enough credit for introducing alternative comedy to a generation of kids who then went on to idolize the silly antics of Conan O’Brien, “Mr. Show” and everything on Adult Swim. Would there be a “Childrens Hospital,” “Wonder Showzen” or “Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!” without “Pee-wee’s Playhouse”? Shows like “Comedy Bang! Bang!” knew they owed Reubens a debt of gratitude, and made sure to have the character on. Tim Robinson’s “I Think You Should Leave” hits that same spot for me now that “Pee-wee” did back then.
And let’s take a moment to remember that “Pee-wee’s Playhouse” played on a Saturday morning. On CBS. How delightfully subversive is that? It took someone like Reubens, who threaded that needle of approachability with absurdity, to pull that off.
And the legacy lives on. I couldn’t wait to show my kids “Pee-wee’s Big Adventure,” and enjoy the film again through their eyes. Now, they too have memories of Large Marge, the fact that there’s no basement at the Alamo, and when to shout “Infinity!” after going back and forth with the classic taunt, “I know you are, but what am I?” And even they now hear “Tequila” and imagine that iconic Pee-wee Herman dance. And that laugh!
Pee-wee Herman not only taught us that it was OK to be a bit weird, or be seen as a bit of an outcast, but to celebrate it. And by the way, who doesn’t feel a bit weird, or a bit of an outcast? I know you are, but what am I?
Until the very end, whenever Reubens got back in costume as Pee-wee Herman, it looked like he hadn’t aged a day. Which makes perfect sense: Pee-wee Herman was timeless. And although Reubens is now gone, his impact on popular culture is forever.
