Don Rickles: At 81, Still Adding Insult to Comedy

He began to make a name for himself in such places as Washington's old Wayne Room on then-seedy 14th Street NW before graduating to shows in Miami and, eventually, Las Vegas, in the early '50s.

Rickles built his career playing in such venues as the lounge at the Sahara, doing shows throughout the night -- 2, 4 and 5 a.m. "It was always a lot of fun," he recalls. "But, hey, when you're in your young 30s . . . If I had to do it today, we might have to call the paramedics."

"You'd get through with your show at 1:30, and, naturally, the adrenaline is still pumping," Newhart remembers. "You'd say, 'Hey, let's go catch Keely Smith and Louis Prima or Vic Damone.' " And, of course, Don Rickles.

Even the era's big names would pop in to see Rickles fairly regularly, including Nat King Cole (for whom Rickles would later serve as a pallbearer) and members of the Rat Pack -- most notably Frank Sinatra. Upon Sinatra's first visit, Rickles famously greeted him with, "Make yourself at home, Frank -- hit somebody."

"Everyone looked to see what Frank would do," Landis says. "Because there were those 12 guys over there with guns." Thankfully, Frank laughed -- and all the guys laughed with him. "If he didn't laugh, I'd be on the Jerry Lewis telethon," Rickles says now.

Vegas at the time was run by "the guys," as mobsters were known. "They really knew how to run the town," Newhart says. "It was virtually crime-free. They made sure that any transgressions were . . . taken care of immediately. One thing you learned was never to ask the owners, 'What did you do before this?' "

Rickles and Newhart became fast friends, having been introduced by their wives, and have remained close, even traveling the world together. Their relationship is particularly intriguing given the differences in their humor and personalities. "Don is all touchy-feely, hugging, etc.," says Landis, who first met Rickles in 1969 working as a gofer on the film "Kelly's Heroes." "Bob, though, is probably the whitest person you'll ever meet. He defines the word 'gentile.' "

"We're like apples and oranges," Rickles says. "Our humors are two different ballparks. But when we're together socially, we fall on the floor laughing at the same stuff."

"People will say, 'Geez, how can you go on vacation with Rickles? I mean, 24 hours a day?' " Newhart says. "I just tell them it's like elevator music. It's just kind of a din in the background -- you don't pay a lot of attention to it. Otherwise you'd go crazy. You just kind of tune in every so often to see what subject he's ranting on."

It is Newhart who probably understands Rickles best. "There's a part of all comedians that remains a child, while other people get civility pounded into them," he says. "But somehow comedians don't. This is particularly evident in Don. Whatever he sees, he says. And it's what we all think, but we're too civilized to say."

Newhart recalls watching one of Rickles's Sahara shows with his wife, noting one particularly obvious target for Rickles's abuse sitting in the front row, though the comic didn't appear to notice. "There was a guy sitting in the front row with . . . with this really bad hairpiece -- I mean, it looked like a divot that somebody threw on somebody's head," he recalls. "Don kept walking past the guy, but he didn't say anything. I turned to my wife, and I said, 'Geez, he's gotta see that guy in the front row.' Finally, he looks at the guy, and he says, 'No one would ever guess, sir.' "

In more than 50 years of performing, Rickles has never regretted anything he's said in jest. "I'm like a fighter," he says. "I always throw my best punch, and I never take it back or apologize for what I said. I never take it back, because when I say it, I believe it. And I believe it's funny."