Podcaster Dave Rubin knows more than a thing or two about the late Larry King, whose Brooklyn accent, suspenders and dark-rimmed glasses helped mark his 25-year run as host of CNN’s Larry King Live.
Rubin has called King “my friend, my mentor and my bonus grandfather.” So when King passed away in January I turned to Rubin for his take on the legendary broadcaster.
Rubin memorialized King on his Rubin Report podcast on Jan. 25.
After some friendly reminiscing, Rubin recalls a recent instance when he and King found themselves in King’s home trophy room.
The room was filled with baseball memorabilia on one side (King loved the Dodgers, going back to Brooklyn), and on the other were awards and artifacts signed by famous people he’d met over the years.
Rubin describes wheeling King in front of the political stuff and King saying, “What’s it all about Dave, what’s it all about?”
Rubin responded, “I just looked at him and I said, ‘Larry, this, this is what it’s all about. Like this: this is a life worth living.'”
What’s it really about?
I want to be fair to Rubin. He spends a month of each year going off the grid in an attempt to better connect with who he is. And, during the podcast in question, Rubin mentions that there was more to King’s life than just the awards. But something about this exchange (as quoted above) struck me.
What is it all about?
I’m sure there were times when it felt very gratifying for King to receive adulation and what are likely countless awards. But I have a tough time imagining a person can credibly measure a life in accolades; in fact I picture King asking the question because in the end the prestige wasn’t enough.
Prestige didn’t answer the question; it merely further raised it.
No judgment here. It’s just celebrity life seduces us.[1]A professor of mine used to say: “If you know you’re being seduced you probably aren’t.” It gets us to believe that happiness lies on the other side of fame (wherever we can find it).
So, when King asks “what’s it all about?” it’s a profound question.
A brief passing
I passed King on the street not long ago, on South Santa Monica Blvd. in Beverly Hills, just outside The Nosh. It was a rainy day and he wore a red parka. He looked like the grandparents I’d grown so used to seeing as a kid growing up in Baltimore.
What struck me was how ordinary he seemed: a little anxious, faintly aloof but also like he had nowhere he had to be. He was, quite simply, a man on a walk.
How therapeutic, how reassuring, an interaction like that can be. The most famous among us, no more no less than the rest of us, each just passing through.
I’d like to think we said hello.
Notes, etc.
| ↑1 | A professor of mine used to say: “If you know you’re being seduced you probably aren’t.” |
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