Kramer and bare knuckles — stories of redemption
- Brett Hiner: A Work in Progress
- July 25, 2024
- 573
The release of the autobiography of Michael Richards — aka Kramer of “Seinfeld” fame — led me to a bookstore a few weeks ago. Like many who enter those beloved doors, even with a book title/purchase in mind, exploring can get us into trouble — in the best of ways.
Needing a brief reprieve from the fantastical and mystery-filled worlds for which summer reading allows, I snagged Richards’ book and continued to browse the nearby shelves. In doing so, a book cover caught my eye, not because of the title or author, but because it pictured a beefier version of a man who looked just like a college friend of mine (it wasn’t). Nevertheless, I picked it up and proceeded to read the book jacket.
The content — bare knuckle fighting — was not a subject with which I was at all familiar, but sandwiched between “inspiring” and “heartbreaking” was the phrase, “reads like a real-life ‘Rocky,’” and I was hooked. Even nearing its 50th birthday, I think the original “Rocky” is still in the top five sports films ever made.
So with purchases in hand, off I fled to the backyard hammock.
For fans of “Seinfeld,” “Entrances and Exits” — the title Richards settled on to reference the famous line from Shakespeare’s “As You Like It” — provides the kind of behind-the-scenes stories that capture the vaudevillian brilliance that was Kramer. Perhaps most fascinating is Richards’ anecdotes for the evolution of the character, beginning with his audition in front of series creators Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David — Seinfeld was a fan; David needed a little more convincing — and ending with Richards leaving the set after filming the final episode, only taking Kramer’s two pair of Doc Martens shoes that were worn during the show’s nine-year run with him.
Along the way we learn of how Richards relied on and trusted his own comedic chops when it came to Kramer. His input on Kramer’s wardrobe — he purchased most of it on his own at local thrift stores — to the insane amount of physical preparation necessitating the need for extra padding highlights all the work that brought Kramer to life.
In one particularly interesting moment, he mentions how, early in the show’s run, network executives wanted him to cut his hair. Their fear was audiences would not like Kramer if he “looks too crazy.”
“The hair,” Richards argues, “symbolizes the irrational that was and is and always will be the underlying feature, not only of Kramer, but of comedy itself.”
Seinfeld agreed, and it was the first step to Richards fully understanding where the character of Kramer could go.
There are deeply personal moments in his autobiography, mostly related to his relationship with his mother and her secretiveness over Richards’ father, as well as the infamous meltdown that occurred on stage at the Laugh Factory when after getting heckled by a fan, Richards burst into a litany of racial slurs. It is the major reason why he has been out of the public eye for the last 18 years. “I canceled myself,” Richards states.
A good portion of the book delves into the philosophical. At times it all becomes a bit too heavy and unfocused, yet Richards’ conversational-style writing makes it feel like he might be sitting across from you, say at Monk’s, enjoying a cup of coffee.
Opposite the tranquillity of comedy and philosophy is Stayton Bonner’s “Bare Knuckle,” the story of Bobby Gunn and his life enveloped in the world of bare-knuckle fighting, where he holds a 73-0 record. He is to bare-knuckle fighting what Michael Phelps is to swimming.
Most surprisingly is how easily readers get pulled into Gunn’s story — for every anecdote detailing the violence of his sport and every underground location where they take place (while in the act, participants are constantly on the lookout for the police), Gunn’s gentleness when it comes to his marriage and two children is captivating. Along the way we also get an understanding of the Irish Traveler Community, a religious sect that guides so much of Gunn’s lifestyle choices, specifically his protectiveness of his daughter and demands placed on his son.
When not brawling in warehouses, Gunn travels all over the United States, looking for asphalt work. It is a tough way to make a living, but by his own admission, he is driven by the encompassing desire to provide a better life for his children. His daughter’s private school education comes with a $800 a month bill, and his son Bobby Jr. is a rising middleweight boxer — proper training is not cheap.
But make no mistake: “Bare Knuckle” is a book about violence. The prose that Bonner uses to capture the underground fighting world is brutally vivid. It is a world I cannot imagine living in, but perhaps that is what makes Gunn’s sacrifices for his family so appealing. The understanding comes not from the violence itself, but the explanation for why it occurs.
Ultimately, both books have a redemptive quality that is a testament to the human spirit. In the case of Richards, soul searching for a reason as to where his Laugh Factory anger came from, not asking for forgiveness for the deplorable outburst but rather seeking an understanding as to why and making himself better. And in the case of Gunn, his impossible search for the balance between violence and peace and the road he must travel to achieve that acceptance.
Michael Richards and Bobby Gunn live in two very different worlds, but for their readers, the relatable piece is captured best in this notion: Richards writes: “(Kramer) goes down like most of us. The best of him is that he gets right back up, quicker than most.”
Brett Hiner is ready to begin his 28th year teaching English/language arts at Wooster High School, where he also serves as yearbook adviser and Drama Club adviser/director. When writing, he enjoys connecting cultural experiences, pop and otherwise to everyday life. He can be emailed at workinprogressWWN@gmail.com.