In his reminiscence of Carl Reiner in the New York Times Steve Martin explains succinctly not just the influence that Mr. Reiner had on him but something I have preached here for years:
I’ve heard several people say Carl was like a father to them. But, to me, Carl was not fatherly. He was exemplar. Five years and four films later, I was a different person because of a subtle osmosis of traits from Carl to me. Carl’s manner on the set taught me how to behave on the set. His interaction with people gave me a template of how to be better, nicer, how to lead with kindness. His directorial results were the same as the nastier directors I ran into later in my career. He taught me about modesty, too. I called him late one evening to discuss the next day’s shooting. I asked, “Am I interrupting you?†He said, “No, I’m just lying here going through a litany of my failures.â€
When I perform comedy, I can still hear echoes of my influences coming through. Jack Benny, certainly, Mike Nichols and Elaine May, Lenny Bruce, Steve Allen, Carl Reiner, too. But it is not Carl’s comedic advice I cherish. Rather, it was how he affected my everyday life, the part that has nothing to do with movies or acting. Sometimes I deal with people in meetings, social dinners and plain-old conversation with a buoyancy foreign to me and realize, “Oh, that’s the way Carl would have done it.â€
In your actions model the behavior that you think is right, that you want to see in others. In my behavior I follow the great examples I have had in my life—my mother and father, teachers, and friends. Role models. That, my friends, is immortality.
