was there, much to the chagrin of many a live-in girlfriend. Even though he never discussed how to fake his death with Lynne (after all, he was planning on fooling her also … and did), the around-the-clock phone calls about anything and everything just kept coming incessantly.
* * *
Lynne
Oh, man, the phone thing. I hate talking on the phone and it’s a testament to my love for Andy that I tolerated talking to him for hours at night when he or I were away from one another. He would talk endlessly because he knew it drove me crazy! I’d try to disengage and say I had to go to sleep and he’d say, “OK, good night …” But then, just try to hang up! He’d say goodnight but not hang up, then you’d say “Are you still there?” “Yes, alright, good night” … silence, silence, silence … “Hello?” “OK, you hang up first.” “No, you hang up first.” “No, you hang up” … for hours. Hours! But at the same time it was so much fun. Andy was like a little kid.
* * *
Ring …
B: Hi, Andy!
A: How did you know it’s me?
B: It’s three a.m. Who else would it be?
A: Sorry!
B: It’s OK. What’s up?
A: What’s the name of that stuff that Juliet swallowed to make her appear dead?
B: I don’t know. I think Shakespeare made up the whole story.
A: No, it was real! He just took it from some newspaper article he read.
B: Wait a second. Are you telling me Romeo and Juliet really happened?
A: Yes! We learned it in school. William Shakespeare wrote his play based on a real incident that actually occurred in Verona, Italy. You can actually visit Juliet’s tomb. It’s a big tourist attraction.
B: Is she in it?
A: I don’t know. I never went. I guess she is.
B: Well, I’m sure if you researched it some, you could find out what it is. How long does it knock you out for?
A: I don’t know. I remember once in science class, the teacher injected a live frog with the stuff or something like it.
B: What happened?
A: It died—or at least it looked dead. The next day it was hopping back around in its tank.
B: No shit!
A: Yeah, I saw it with my own eyes. If I can get ahold of some of that stuff, I’ll swallow it, appear dead, and then come back when no one’s looking.
B: How do you know when that’s going to be? And how can you be sure no one’s around?
A: Well, I would imagine after you die, like in a hospital bed, they take you down to the morgue. I can wake up there in the middle of the night. And if I already have the substitute body in the same morgue, I’ll just switch toe tags. Then I’ll put on a fake beard and clothes and simply walk out. Presto change-o! Look, I know it’s not going to be that simple, Bob. Maybe I’ll pay one of those Mexican guys who clean up there to help me. Most of those guys are illegal, anyway. They’d probably be happy to make a few extra bucks.
B: What if they wheel you down to the morgue and start performing an autopsy on you? Hell, they can kill you while you’re still alive and not even know it.
A: Why would they need to perform an autopsy on me? They already would know what I died of.
B: And what is it you’re going to die from?
A: I don’t know yet. I’m still working on it. I’m in no rush. I won’t do it until it’s perfect. All right, talk to you tomorrow.
B: Great, Andy. Now I’m going to have nightmares about bodies in morgues.
A: You want me to send a hooker over? I got phone numbers. She could be there in an hour. It’s on me. I had three working girls already this week.
B: Three? Why not just fuck groupies …
A: They’re more trouble than they’re worth … You want a hooker?
B: No, save your money. You’re going to need it. I don’t think faking your death is going to be cheap.
A: But you do admit it’s doable.
B: Of course it’s doable. People get away with it every day.
A: Can you imagine how great this will be when I actually do it?
B: Well, just remember: If you get caught, they don’t give out chocolate ice cream in jail. Speaking of jail, you better send me a piece of paper stating I had nothing to do with helping you.
Lynne
I slept on the couch in his room (Cedars-Sinai being the hospital to the stars, one could get away with anything there, doctors in the pocket of the famous). I rarely left his side. It was around 6 p.m. on May 16, 1984. Andy’s condition hadn’t changed and I hadn’t slept for days. I lay down on the couch at the far end of the room and fell immediately asleep. The next thing I remember is hearing ALL the Kaufman family voices shouting, “Andy, hang on! Don’t go!” I literally flew from the couch to his bedside. I can’t recall my feet hitting the floor. When I got to Andy’s bedside, he was surrounded by his family. There was no room for me at the head of the bed, so I stood and held one of Andy’s feet while he died. (Hmmmm. Symbolic for how the Kaufmans treated me, eh?) Later, I was standing at the head of the bed, stroking and kissing his forehead; cold (holy shit, could that have been a body double?). I did see him (or whoever) take his last breath.
Then the nightmare of the Kaufmans invading my home. Andy and I had rented a house in Pacific Palisades after he found out about the cancer. Of course, HE rented the house, not me. After Andy died, Stanley, his dad, “graciously” let me stay in the house for one month. After that, get out.
There they were in MY house. But they felt entitled because they were Andy’s family; who the fuck was I? I had actually asked Michael, Andy’s brother, a few days earlier if they would please move to a hotel because I needed solitude in my home. I remember that he just stared at me. He didn’t respond. And I realize now it was because they didn’t consider me of any consequence at all. It was THEIR house, not mine.
Lynne has had friction with the Kaufmans since then. This has escalated in the last few years to some serious threats of lawsuits. Andy would roll over in his grave … if he were in it.
* * *
Take your pick: either Andy Kaufman faked his death or
