Nicholas went on to somewhat follow in my own footsteps. He wrote and directed a wonderful film called Sam, a romantic comedy in which the character he created, Sam, drinks a magic potion and suddenly turns into “Samantha” and drives his best friend crazy trying to convince him that underneath Samantha he’s really still Sam. I know what it takes to write and direct a movie; it’s a herculean task. So I am so proud of Nicky for all the great work he did in fashioning his terrific film.
My daughter, Stefanie, was smart and funny from the day she was born. I’ll never forget the night we threw a party for our friends, and three-year-old Steffie entered the room dressed as a fairy-tale princess. The living room was crowded and when Carl Reiner spotted her coming into the room he said, “Oh, look at the beautiful little princess!” Steffie looked around the room and came back with, “Yeth, and the beautiful little printhess has nowhere to sit.”
At three years old she broke up a whole living room full of pretty sophisticated people.
I am so lucky to have my children in my life. Every week I can count on a call from them to check in on their doddering old dad.
So Sid Caesar’s magical ten-year reign on TV had finally come to an end. Later on in my movie career, whenever there was a special character that needed a bit of genius, I always cast Sid. Like the caveman in my History of the World, Part I. He’s the very first artist in history. When he finishes his magical cave painting another caveman （the first critic in the world） comes up and studies it thoughtfully. He makes up his mind and proceeds to urinate all over it. The look on Sid’s face took the moment to another level.
（I’m sure that didn’t keep me in good stead with critics. Every time I got a bad review, I was sure they were thinking of that cave scene.）
During the last few years of Sid’s life we spent many great dinner parties together. Every other Friday, Sid and I would spend a couple of hours together, riffing and laughing. Sid was my mentor and my lifelong friend. We remained connected and close until his passing in 2014. That magical spark never disappeared.
I have said this many times, and I still believe it: If there was no Sid Caesar, there would never have been a Mel Brooks.
Chapter 5
Carl Reiner and the 2000 Year Old Man
So back to 1960, I go from a highly paid TV writer to a highly unpaid, unemployed TV writer. I’m saved from utter destitution and sleeping on a park bench by the one and only Carl Reiner.
Carl Reiner was always a big fan of my crazy, spontaneous comedy improvisations. One of his favorites was my impression of a Jewish pirate. I’d say, “I’m very depressed. The price of sailcloth has gone up to eight and a half doubloons a yard. I can’t afford to set sail anymore. It’s been weeks since I pillaged or raped!”
Carl loved it, and made me do the Jewish pirate at every party we were at together.
The 2000 Year Old Man was born one day when Carl walked into the Caesar’s Hour writers’ room during a lunch break. He was carrying a strange gadget.
I said, “What is that?”
He explained, “It’s a wire recorder. You talk into the mic, and it captures your voice and plays it back.” （I think it preceded the tape recorder.）
He plopped down on the couch next to me and then, as was his wont, he surprised me with, “Here next to me is a man who was actually at the scene of the crucifixion two thousand years ago! Isn’t that true, sir?”
I immediately sprung forth with, “Ohhh boy.”
Carl said, “You were there! Did you know Jesus?”
I said, “Thin lad, right? Wore sandals? Hung around with twelve other guys? They always came into my store. Never bought anything. They just asked for water.”
Needless to say, everybody in the room broke up.
Carl, never one to give you a break to think, charged ahead:
Carl: Well, sir, I must say that you really don’t look two thousand years old.
Mel: I take care of myself. I eat right. I never touch fried food.
Carl: But I think we’d all believe it more if you had some way to authenticate it. Do you have a birth certificate?
Mel: We didn’t have that two thousand years ago. We didn’t have nothing. We didn’t have ballpoint pens. We weren’t even up to ink, darling. We were primitive. We were…atavistic. What is the word I’m searching for?…I got it. Dumb! We were very dumb.
From that moment on, Carl never stopped besieging me with questions. He made me a Texan psychoanalyst, a cockney filmmaker, a best friend of Da Vinci, the boyfriend of Joan of Arc—he was relentless. But the character that always worked and became a real fountain of knowledge and humor was the 2000 Year Old Man. It never missed.