The “Heyman Hustle” and Yahoo Sports have partnered up to provide wrestling fans with exclusive content during WrestleMania week on The Turnstile blog. In his third blog post, Paul Heyman talks about the time he interviewed the late Andy Kaufman at age 16 and why he would have loved WrestleMania.



The late Andy Kaufman would have loved the spectacle of WrestleMania. It's ironic to think that Vincent James McMahon (long-time owner of WWE's parent company and father of chairman Vincent Kennedy McMahon) did not want to hire Kaufman as a "manager" because of Kaufman being a mainstream performer. Vincent KENNEDY McMahon would salivate at the opportunity for the crossover, and Kaufman would not doubt be involved in one of the featured matches at WrestleMania as a result of the publicity he could bring to the product.

When I was a teenager, I was a photographer, and lucked into the situation of being paid $50 every WWE show at Madison Square Garden by Vincent James McMahon. One of the strangest friendships I developed was with (you knew this was coming, didn't you?) Andy Kaufman.

To know Andy was to be worked (conned) by Andy. He was, much like me, a half-out-of-his-mind New York Jewish kid who gravitated towards the bizarre culture and secret society that could only be found within the wrestling industry. Andy, whose role as Latka Gravas on "Taxi" made him a huge network television star, courted controversy with his on-the-edge appearances on “Saturday Night Live,” “Fridays” and that infamous confrontation with Jerry Lawler on David Letterman.

As much fun as Andy had working with Jerry Lawler on the Memphis circuit, his creativity was not satisfied by appearing "off Broadway." Andy wanted to be on the big stage, and that meant appearing at Madison Square Garden. Andy, whose family lived on Long Island, would come to the Garden shows and nag Vincent JAMES McMahon about doing a storyline where Andy would either wrestle women or become a wrestling manager against one of the more popular heroes of the era (Bob Backlund, Jimmy Snuka, Pat Patterson, Pedro Morales), culminating with Andy in a handicap match taking an ass-kicking for all to see.

And here's a nice little secret ... Andy wanted to do it all for free. He didn't want any money from WWE, just the chance to pursue this idea with a furious thirst for publicity. Andy became friends with Freddie Blassie, with whom he later filmed the independent movie “Breakfast with Blassie,” and actually offered Fred a deal where the two would do comedy appearances and albums together if Blassie could persuade the senior McMahon to allow Andy to at least try his routine one time in the Garden.

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Andy wasn't even that concerned with appearing on the television shows. He figured if he could just get on stage (into the ring) at the Garden, he'd do something so outlandish, he'd make history, and Vincent JAMES McMahon would have no choice but to hire Andy (even for no money) to do his shtick on a semi-regular basis. This was Andy's dream, and he was desperate to live it out.

Vincent Kennedy McMahon was standing just feet away from his Dad when Andy would pitch his own involvement, since the current Boss would have loved this type of uninhibited celebrity creativity on his show(s). It was a different atmosphere back then, and Vince Sr. thought Andy was making a mockery of pro wrestling, not bringing attention to it. Today, even if Andy was presenting a parody of wrestling, it would be incorporated into the show.

One day in 1982, I bolted out of my 1:30 high school class so I could go to New York City early with Freddie Blassie and his guest in the car, Andy Kaufman. Blassie was like a carnival barker, talking up Andy's fame, his performance on “Taxi,” anything he could think of to keep the conversation focused on the enormous talents of the guest in the backseat.

When we got into NYC, Freddie suggested we go to the Gaiety Delicatessen, a popular celeb hangout in the 1980s. As soon as we walked into the Gaiety, the place went wild. "It's Blassie! It's “Classy” Freddie Blassie!"

"Yeah, hey there's Latka! Ih-bee-dah! Ih-bee-dah!"

Kaufman's character Latka used to say "Ih-bee-dah" on the show, and people would go up to him all day long saying "Ih-bee-dah" and imitate the way Latka would say, in a gentle-as-a-little-lamb voice, "thank you veddy much."

But Andy threw the first of several curveballs on that day, as he insisted to everyone in the famed Gaiety that he wasn't Andy Kaufman, but Andy's twin brother Jesse Garon Kaufman, and that he was standing in for Andy to fool the photographers who wanted to take pictures of Andy with Blassie and anyone else who wanted to pose with the innovative comedian.

Andy clung to his "Jesse Garon Kaufman" identity with such conviction, everyone actually believed him. When we sat down, I realized Andy hadn’t said a single word on the way down to the city. When I said, "Nice to meet you," he smiled and waved, but never actually spoke. So there we were, sitting in a triangle at a table at this famed Manhattan eatery, and Andy leaned in over the table and said, "You know, Elvis is really dead."

Now I've never been much of a conspiracy theorist, at least not when it comes to the death of Elvis Presley. The man died in 1977, and that's that. And now I was sitting across the table from Andy Kaufman, and in his first words to me, he told me that Elvis really was dead.

View photos Andy Kaufman and Jerry Lawler. More

Hey, thanks Andy. Um, so is Abraham Lincoln? JFK? Mussolini?

Andy looked around, as if he was afraid someone might hear him reveal the secrets of the universe, and said, "You know what I mean, don't you?"

Freddie, right on cue, said, "I do! I get it, and you're so right about that. Jeesh, how could I not see it. Kid, you see it, don't you?"

Of course, I didn't have a clue what Andy was talking about, and neither did Freddie Blassie. But Freddie wasn't going to let on he didn't understand. And Andy was way too respectful towards Freddie to ever bust him on his BS.

"No one idolizes Elvis anymore," Andy lamented, looking like he was going to cry. "Jesse Garon Presley was Elvis' identical twin brother, born 35 minutes before Elvis, but Jesse Garon Presley was stillborn. Elvis lived, his twin brother didn't. I used Elvis' twin brother's name, and no one got the joke. Isn't that terrible?"

To this day, I don't know if Andy was playing me, playing Blassie, playing everyone in the room, or even playing a [expletive] on himself. Either way, Andy jutted out his lower lip, put on the best pouty face I've seen, and sighed his way through his sandwich.

Blassie, of course, took Andy's silence to talk some more, "Hey, look at that Puerto Rican kid who just walked in! I know him! Amigo! Como esta? It's me, “Classy” Freddie Blassie!"

And wouldn't you know it, Freddie really did know the guy. He was a security guard at the Garden, and he was on his way to work. "This here is Lenny Bruce Kaufman ..."

Andy almost did a spit take. "Um, that's Jesse ..."

Blassie was in full character mode.

"Don't interrupt me!" Blassie yelled, loud as hell at the table, "I'm talking about you here.”

"This here is Elvis Presley's Jewish cousin, he's a Rabbi in Staten Island, and his brother is on that hit television show, whatever the hell the name of the show is."

Like a perfect straight man, Andy said, “Taxi.”

"I know the show's name is ‘Taxi,’" Blassie yelled, "this kid doesn't care about your brother, he's Puerto Rican, he has enough troubles in life!"

The entire lunch went this way. Kaufman was in heaven. I wouldn't be surprised if Andy got the idea for “Breakfast with Blassie” at this meal. I don't know. I think both Andy and Freddie Blassie were geniuses. I just hadn't seen how brilliant they were quite just yet.

Later that night at Madison Square Garden, Andy Kaufman was having the time of his life. He was posing with all the wrestlers, telling them how much he admired their work, and how privileged he felt to be part of the business, especially with the angle he did in Memphis with Jerry Lawler.

The other photographers and I made Andy feel right at home in the photographers' room, and took pictures of Andy with everyone who walked in there. Andy with Blassie. Andy with Ivan Putski. Andy with referees. Andy with the ring crew. It didn't matter. If you walked in that room, you were getting your picture taken with Andy Kaufman.

It was about 30 minutes into this photo love-fest with Andy that I noticed no one was interviewing Andy. How could this be? The Garden press had gotten so accustomed to just running story ideas by the wrestlers, no one knew what an amazing opportunity was staring at us right in the face. An interview with Andy Kaufman. Latka Gravas. The Hollywood actor turned Memphis heel. The zany comedian whose antics were picked apart by the press, debated by contemporaries, and discussed to this very day.

A true comedic genius.

A legendary eccentric whose out-of-the-box thinking was so irreverent, no one could ever predict which side of his personality would come out during a performance. A calculating schizophrenic. And yet, no one thought to get this maniacal entertainer on tape. I went to Freddie Blassie, and I said, "Is it possible to get an interview with Andy?"

The look in Freddie's eyes was like a cartoon when the character dreams of riches beyond his wildest dreams, and dollar signs flash in his eyes. Freddie thought to himself this was a great opportunity for more publicity, more of a tie-in to a mainstream celebrity.

"An interview?" Blassie cackled, "I thought you'd never ask. You know, those other bird-brained photographers ... what are their names?"

Before I could answer, he was onto his next thought.

"Let's go get Andy. He's on a tight schedule. He has a lot of things to do. What they are, I have no idea, but he's gotta do 'em. So let's go talk to him, and when you publish it, make sure you tell everyone I set it up!"

Blassie and I approached Andy, and I grabbed one of the Japanese photographers and asked him to take a picture of me interviewing Andy, with Blassie prominently in the photograph.

We went into one of the large Garden dressing room bathrooms, and I turned on my tape recorder.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Paul Heyman, of The Wrestling Times, and I'm here with Andy Kaufman, comedic genius and star of the hit television series Taxi. Andy, thanks for taking time for this interview. How does it feel to be here for the big matches in Madison Square Garden?"

Andy looked at Blassie, and then gave me a deadpan look any poker player would donate a left testicle to be able to pull off, and said something along the lines of "Oooga booga, mooga moooga, mumjumbo capa laka wah!"

I looked around, waiting for someone to jump out of the stall and scream "hah hah, we got you!" but there was no other shoe dropping here. I was getting a huge exclusive, an interview with a network television star, and he was talking complete gibberish.

Oh wait. It gets better.

I'm trying to formulate my next question in my head, and Blassie — perfectly timed, I might add — interjects, "I couldn't agree more! That's brilliant, Andy, I never looked at it that way before!”

I started laughing, because I figured Freddie would break, but Blassie was playing right along with Andy's improvised decision to be insane in front of the very same person who drove him down to New York City that very afternoon.

Blassie never broke.

Instead, he said, "Come on, kid, Andy's very busy. He has a lot of things to do here tonight. Don't you, Andy?"

OK, surely he'll answer Blassie.

Andy smiled, nodded his head, and turned back to me.

"OK," I said, trying to work around this surreal experience, "Let's talk about Latka Gravis. If I said Ih-bee-dah, is that like Shalom? In that it could have various meanings, depending on the context of the conversation at the moment?"

Andy thought about that one, and smiled. I thought he was going to say "You got me," but instead he leaned into my tape recorder with a smile and said "Maka Laka Toobie Doh!"

Blassie raised both arms towards the ceiling, as if he were a Rabbi conducting a service, and yelled out, "Absolutely! Son of a [expletive], that's exactly what I was thinking!"

Blassie, wearing his "wrestling manager" sequined outfit, said, "OK, kid ... one more question, then Andy has to go."

I didn't know what to do, so I figured I'd try to upstage Andy Kaufman. You read that right.

Don't worry, I'm not claiming I succeeded. Just making the statement I tried.

I looked at Andy, determined to break him out of this personality shift, positioned myself like a bullfighter opposing El Toro, and said, "Bak! Moochie Baka Laka Miki Toe, Batcha Maka Baka Meechie Kanaka!"

Without missing a beat, Andy broke into hysterics. I broke him. I beat the master at his own game. The defeated, out-Moochie-Kaka-Baka-Moo'd Andy Kaufman put his arm around me, smiled in my face, and said without even a trace of an accent, "Kala Maka Mookie Kah? Beesto! Beesto! Beesto!"

And with that, he kissed Freddie Blassie's ring, and walked out of the bathroom.

I looked at Freddie, expecting him to play along with Kaufman's rant spoken-in-a-made-up language, but he looked at me and said "What the hell is wrong with that guy? Jeeesh, you can sure pick 'em!"

Blassie stormed out of the bathroom, and I was left holding my tape recorder, wondering if I just brushed up against genius, insanity, or both.

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