Okay, let's unpack this. Today we are undertaking
a deep dive into, well, the really extraordinary
career and, frankly, complex personal life of
Cornelius Crane, Chevy Chase. Yeah, this is quite
a story. It really is. It's a story of immediate,
like, defining stardom, massive cultural influence,
and a career path that's almost defined by these
dramatic peaks and surprising valleys. And conflict.
A level of public and professional conflict that...
Honestly, few stars ever really navigate, let
alone survive. Right. What's fascinating here,
I think, is we're looking at more than just a
comedian's biography. We're really trying to
analyze the anatomy of a breakthrough star whose
success seemed rooted in contradiction. So our
mission today? To dig into those foundational
paradoxes of his success. We've got comprehensive
sources detailing his elite, almost blue blood
origins, his raw physical comedic talent. Which
was undeniable early on. Absolutely. And then.
the significant personal complexities, the burdens,
the reported trauma, the volatility that seemed
to fuel his incredible rise, but also kind of
perpetually challenges longevity, especially
in collaborative settings. It's a really potent
mix. And when you think about his cinematic legacy,
I mean, you realize he created characters who
are still cultural touchstones today. Oh, definitely.
You instantly conjure Ty Webb, right? Effortlessly
cool, often detached. Or Erwin Fletcher, the
quipping master of disguise reporter. A classic.
And of course, the immortal, high energy, but
totally disastrous dad, Clark Griswold from the...
You can't escape Clark Griswold. No way. These
roles didn't just succeed. They really defined
a whole era of cinematic comedy, particularly
in the 80s. But, you know, his importance isn't
just measured by those movie grosses, big as
they were, before all that film success. Yeah.
He was the undisputed breakout star, the singular
force, really, of Saturday Night Live's initial
completely groundbreaking cast. That first season.
Just think about the scope of that influence.
In like one single season, he essentially defined
the entire franchise's original tone. He set
the blueprint. Exactly. For that self -aware,
often deadpan, slightly arrogant sketch humor
that became the show's signature identity. He
immediately established SNL as like a cultural
phenomenon, not just another TV show. Okay, so
to really get a handle on the origin of that
deadpan arrogance, as Rolling Stone called it,
we have to start at the beginning. His background.
Because it is, well, it's not typical for a guy
who got famous falling down. Not at all. His
birth name, Cornelius Crane Chase, born October
8th, 1943. And the first layer of complexity
is right there in his nickname, Chevy. Where
did that come from? It really tells you everything
about the world he came from. It wasn't just
short for Cornelius or something simple. No,
it was given to him by his grandmother. And it
came directly from the medieval English ballad,
The Ballad of Chevy Chase. Yeah. She thought
it was appropriate because they were descended
from the Scottish Clan Douglas. That one detail
just paints a picture, doesn't it? High society,
history, deep family roots. Wow. And when you
start pulling on those family threads, the connections
are, frankly, astonishing. And they seem totally
at odds with his later comedic persona. Completely.
His maternal grandmother, for instance, she was
adopted by Cornelius Vanderbilt Crane. The heir
to the Crane Company, the industrial fortune.
That's the one. Huge deal. And then his maternal
grandfather was Rear Admiral Miles Browning.
The name sounds familiar. He famously served
as Admiral Raymond Spruance's chief of staff
during the Battle of Midway in World War II,
a pivotal figure. So you've got war heroes, industrial
tycoons. Old world aristocracy sort of woven
in there. And his father, Edward Tinsley Ned
Chase, was a Princeton -educated book editor
in Manhattan. So a very rarefied, established
kind of upper crust background. Definitely. He
grew up, you know, technically upper middle class,
but surrounded by these echoes of immense historical
wealth and power. Yet the sources point to this
really interesting, almost immediate pushback
from him. His stepbrother mentioned that Chase
himself really hated being defined by ancestry.
Oh, really? Yeah. He compared people who did
that to potatoes. The best parts of them were
underground. Oh, that's quite a line. Isn't it?
If you think about that, it suggests this early,
very active resistance against the well, the
elite pretension tied to his mother's side of
the family. Maybe that conflict right there,
the blue blood background versus this desire
for like anarchic self -definition. Maybe that's
the engine that drove his later rebellious, almost
anti -establishment comedy. It had to be a factor.
You see this high intelligence, but also this
anti -authoritarian streak popping up in his
education. It wasn't exactly a smooth ride. Yeah.
He attended the Riverdale Country School, but
got expelled. Okay. He did manage to graduate
as valedictorian from the Stockbridge School
in 62, but his academic path stayed pretty unconventional.
Right. He went to Haverford College first. Yeah,
and even there he was apparently notorious for
slapstick and physical comedy. Our sources mention
this bizarre detail about him sticking forks
into his orifices just for laughs. Slate chuckle.
Okay. Wow. Along with the pratfalls, I assume?
Exactly. Pure kind of anarchic performance art,
even then. He eventually transferred to Bard
College, apparently studied pre -med for a bit.
Pre -med? Really? Briefly, but ultimately graduated
in 1967 with a B .A. in English. And graduating
in 67 put him right in the path of the Vietnam
War draft, didn't it? It did. And our sources
detail a really startling account of how he handled
that. Apparently, Chase managed to avoid the
draft, got a 4F classification, by telling his
draft board falsely. that he had homosexual tendencies.
Wow. That was a significant claim to make back
then to avoid service. A risky move. It definitely
speaks to an intense need for self -preservation,
maybe desperation even, which becomes tragically
horribly understandable when you read the accounts
of his childhood. Yeah, this is where it gets
really dark. The sorts is detailed, pretty extensive,
systematic physical and psychological abuse.
A 2007 biography went into it in depth. It's
chilling stuff. this is where you see the profound
burden beneath the surface of that charismatic
comedian chase himself said and this is a direct
quote i lived in fear all the time deathly fear
god The reports include things like being woken
up at night by his mother just to be slapped
repeatedly across the face. Horrific. Being lashed
on the backs of his legs, being locked in a bedroom
closet for hours as punishment. I mean, that's
just devastating trauma for a child, especially
cloaked in that seemingly privileged environment.
And the abuse reportedly extended to his stepfather,
too, Dr. John Sederquist. Yeah, accounts mention
physical violence punches to the head and being
confined to the basement for days when he was
14 after a school suspension. To internalize
that kind of fear and volatility from your parents,
your step parents, while also navigating the
expectations of this high society family. It
provides a really vital key, I think, to understanding
some of his later. Often described as volatile
professional behavior. It creates this huge internal
split, doesn't it? This sophisticated intellectual
background clashing violently with terror and,
you know, the resulting emotional instability.
We have to acknowledge the weight of that trauma.
It's a crucial lens for viewing his later anxieties,
maybe even his dependence on physical comedy
as a way to process or deflect that pain. But
before he fully channeled all that internal conflict
into the comedy we know him for, he took this
really surprising detour into music. This is
one of those facts that always makes people do
a double take. Oh, yeah. This is where it gets
really interesting, historically speaking. While
he was at Bard, he played drums in a local band
called the Leather Canary. Okay. And the other
two main members of that band, the keyboardist
and the bassist. Who were they? Walter Becker
and Donald Fagan. No. The Steely Dan guys. The
very same. The two guys who went on to basically
define an era of complex, sophisticated rock
and jazz fusion by founding Steely Dan. Chase
was literally part of the early musical foundation
for one of the most respected rock acts of the
70s. That's incredible. I had no idea. Right.
He also played drums and keyboards for another
band, Chameleon Church, a Boston psychedelic
rock group. They even put out one album on MGM
Records before breaking up. So this unlikely
kind of sophisticated musical apprenticeship
happened right before he defined the raw physical
side of American comedy. What a strange path.
Yeah, that musical phase eventually gave way
to a pretty decisive shift. Cheese moved into
comedy full time around 1973, but he actually
spent years honing his skills in the underground
scene, really laying the groundwork for the.
well, meteoric rise that was about to happen.
Right. Between 67 and 74, he was super active.
He co -founded an underground comedy group called
Channel One back in 67. He wrote for Mad Magazine
in 1970, just a short spoof of Mission Impossible,
apparently. Then he worked briefly as a writer
for that short -lived Smothers Brothers TV show
Comeback in the spring of 75. But the real incubator
where the SNL core team kind of came together
was the National Lampoon Radio Hour. Ah, right.
That makes sense. By 73, he was a writer and
cast member there working right alongside the
people who become the not ready for primetime
players. John Belushi, Gilda Radner, Bill Murray.
A whole crew. Pretty much. Yeah. That show was
basically the proving ground, testing out that
mix of counterculture satire and high concept
humor that was about to just explode onto network
TV. He also did some stage work, right? Yeah.
Appeared in the off -Broadway review Lemmings
and the film The Groove Tube in 1974. Kind of
building that resume. So all of that led directly
to October 1975 and the premiere of Saturday
Night Live. And he wasn't just an original cast
member. His presence, his persona, it immediately
became central to the show's whole structure
and rhythm. Absolutely central. He got the most
crucial recurring bit of TV real estate, the
cold open. Right. He introduced nearly every
single episode of that first season with that
now iconic. Totally deadpan delivery. Live from
New York, it's Saturday night. Often after falling
down first. Exactly. Often preceded by the show's
signature bit, the fall of the week, pratfall.
His physical comedy, which he'd clearly been
practicing since college, became his instant
trademark. It earned him immense, like, overnight
fame. And the biggest immediate cultural impact
of that physical comedy was probably his recurring
impression of President Gerald Ford. Oh, definitely.
He famously, brilliantly perfected mimicking
that real life moment where Ford tripped coming
off Air Force One. It was more than just a funny
sketch, though, wasn't it? It really was. It
was almost like character assassination delivered
through precise physical humor. Chase's constant
portrayal of Ford as this bumbling klutz absolutely
shaped public perception of the president. Even
though Ford was actually a pretty accomplished
athlete in college. Yeah, a star athlete, they
call them. Completely unfair, arguably, but incredibly
effective comedy. Chase actually became friendly
with Ford later in life, but the comedic damage
was definitely done. It really cemented the show's
power, didn't it? To impact real world political
views through satire and slapstick. For sure.
And then there was Weekend Update. The original
anchor. He created that segment, became its immediate
essential staple. And if you analyze the style
he brought to it, it wasn't just reading news
jokes. It was a full on character performance.
I'm Chevy Chase. And you're not. That catchphrase
introduction just oozed what Rolling Stone later
called deadpan arrogance. And he'd sign off with
that equally confident good night and have a
pleasant tomorrow. He totally weaponized that
persona. The jokes were often layered with his
distinct. Kind of sophisticated wit. You also
saw his writing in segments like The News for
the Hard of Hearing, where Garrett Morris would
just shout the top story. Classic. What's crucial
here, though, is Chase later claimed his version
of Weekend Update was the direct inspiration
for later news satire shows. Like The Daily Show.
Colbert Report. Exactly. He argued he laid the
foundational blueprint for how political comedy
works on TV today. Which, if true, means his
influence stretches way beyond just his own performing
career. The industry certainly saw his immediate
impact. The awards just poured in. Right. Two
primetime Emmys for that single first season,
one for performing, one for writing, plus a Golden
Globe for his work on the show. And Rolling Stone
years later ranked him 10th overall among all
the SNL cast members ever, specifically saying
it only took him one season to define the whole
franchise. His fame just skyrocketed so fast
that the media immediately started speculating
about what was next for him. By 1975, a New York
Magazine cover story literally called him the
funniest man in America. And NBC executives were
publicly talking him up as the first real potential
successor to Johnny Carson. Which, in 1975 television,
was basically the highest possible compliment,
the ultimate goal. But this is where that high
wire act showed its first wobble, right? Chase
immediately pushed back against the rumors, against
the idea of that kind of long term structure.
Yeah, he famously told New York Magazine he'd
never be tied down for five years interviewing
TV personalities. This aversion to structure,
to long term commitment. it really becomes a
recurring theme, maybe stemming from that difficulty
connecting, collaborating we talked about. And
that rejection created instant friction with
the king of late night himself. Oh, yeah. Carson,
who generally wasn't a fan of the new SNL generation
anyway, later delivered one of the most legendary
and meanest late night burns ever about Chase.
What did he say? He said he couldn't ad lib a
fart after a baked bean dinner. Ouch. Brutal.
It perfectly captures that generational clash,
right? The controlled, measured comedy of the
old guard versus the new, fast, arrogant, almost
contemptuous style Chase represented. So despite
this unprecedented success, he made that famously
quick exit. Yeah. Left early in the second season.
He was only the second original cast member to
leave after George Coe. Why did he say he left?
The official reason he gave was that his girlfriend
at the time, Jacqueline Carlin, didn't want to
move to New York. So he moved to L .A., married
her. and was famously replaced by Bill Murray.
Setting up a rivalry we definitely need to come
back to later. Absolutely. His quick departure
was a shock, but he did maintain a connection,
didn't he? Hosted SNL a bunch of times. Eight
times, between 78 and 97. Though even his later
hosting gigs, like in 97, sparked these persistent
rumors about terrible on -set behavior, even
getting banned. Claims Lorne Michaels later called
idiotic. But the drama, or at least the perception
of volatility, always seemed to follow him around,
even when the facts were a bit murky. Totally.
He left behind this legacy that was both immediate
and defining, but it set him up for the huge
challenge of transitioning that specific persona
into movie stardom. Leaving the biggest show
on TV after just one season, that was a massive
gamble. But Chase somehow managed to immediately
establish himself as a dominant leading man in
movies. He really did. He famously turned down
the role of Eric Otter Stratton in National Lampoon's
Animal House. Which became a huge instant classic.
Why turn that down? He said he wanted to pursue
real acting. So he chose the romantic mystery
comedy Foul Play in 1978 instead. With Goldie
on. Exactly. And that decision paid off big time.
Totally validated the gamble. Foul Play was a
smash hit. Grossed over $44 million. Earned Chase
a Golden Globe nomination for Best Actor. So
he proved his charm, that deadpan reaction thing,
could carry a whole feature film. Definitely.
But his physical comedy background, the very
thing that made him famous on SNL, continued
to take a literal physical toll on him. Yeah,
you mentioned something about an accident. A
really terrifying one. In 1980, filming the movie
Modern Problems, there was this sequence where
his character wears landing lights while dreaming
he's an airplane. Okay. Sounds like a typical
Chevy Chase visual gag. But the lights malfunctioned
horribly. A strong electric current passed right
through his arm, his back, his neck muscles.
A near -death experience. Oh, my God. That's
horrific. Just an astonishing, dangerous thing
to happen on a film set. And that incident happened
shortly after his divorce from Jacqueline Carlin.
Wow. Double whammy. Yeah, the combination of
severe physical trauma and the marriage breakdown
reportedly contributed to a significant period
of deep depression for him. And this connects
back to what you were saying earlier, like the
physical comedy, the source of his fame. Was
literally damaging his body. And subsequently,
it seems, forcing him into a pattern of needing
pain management, relying on prescriptions, a
theme we definitely need to revisit later when
we talk about health. Great. But despite that
physical and emotional cost, the 1980s became
his absolute commercial peak. He went on this
incredible run of iconic roles. Starting with
Caddyshack in 1980. Ty Webb, the enigmatic, philosophical,
rich golfer. Such a unique character. The film
was a cultural phenomena, grossed $39 million
on a tiny $6 million budget. It's become this
enduring classic known for its anarchic humor,
slapstick, and just endlessly quotable lines.
He followed that up quickly, too. Reunited with
Goldie Hawn and Neil Simons seems like old times
in 80. Another hit, $43 million gross. But the
role that really, truly defined him for the masses
was Clark Griswold. Starting in 83 with National
Lampoon's Vacation. Written by John Hughes, directed
by Harold Ramis. Huge hit. Massive. Grossed $61
million on a $15 million budget. It established
the Griswold character, the suburban dad, well
-meaning idiot, whose eternal optimism... just
leads to catastrophe. It was his most successful
film up to that point, and it created this persona
that felt different from Ty Webb or, say, Fletch.
Griswold was fundamentally vulnerable, kind of
relatable, despite the absurdity. Yeah, and then
came 1985's Fletch, where he played Erwin Fletcher,
the quick -witted, disguise -loving investigative
reporter. That character was like the absolute
epitome of deadpan arrogance translated to film.
Totally. And that movie grossed over $50 million.
Yeah. Led to the sequel in 89, Fletch Lives.
which pulled in over $35 million. He'd found
this clear, bankable formula, the charming, glib,
kind of arrogant, every man thrown into total
chaos. And he proved he could work well with
others, especially his old SNL buddies, when
the chemistry clicked. Right. He co -starred
with Dan Aykroyd in Spies Like Us in 85, made
$60 million. And three amigos in 86, with Steve
Martin and Martin Short. produced by Lorne Michaels,
earned nearly $40 million. And Chase specifically
said making Three Amigos was the most fun he
ever had making a movie. Which kind of reinforces
that idea, doesn't it? He thrived in those high
-stakes creative places when the camaraderie
felt genuine, maybe less structured. Seems that
way. And if we just look at the money for a second,
it shows the real height of his power back then.
How much was he making? By the late 1980s, sources
say Chase was commanding around $7 million per
film. Seven million in the late 80s. Yeah. To
put that in perspective, only a handful of stars,
maybe Eddie Murphy, Tom Cruise, Jack Nicholson,
were getting that kind of paycheck then. He was,
for a time, one of the absolute highest paid
comedic actors in the world. Wow. And that decade
of dominance was really capped off by what's...
Arguably his most durable film ever. Has to be
Natural Lampoon's Christmas Vacation in 1989.
Still watch it every year. Everyone does. It
grows $71 million and just keeps generating revenue
and cultural relevance decades later because
it's a holiday movie. It ensures Clark Griswold
is forever linked with his name. Outside the
box office, he was literally the face of Hollywood
on its biggest nights. Hosted the Academy Awards
twice. Yeah, 87 and 88. He even opened the 88
show with one of his classic sarcastic boundary
pushing lines. Quipped, good evening, Hollywood
phonies. Chuckles. Only he could get away with
that. It perfectly sums up his persona, right?
The blue blood insider using his talent to mock
the very system, paying him millions. And we
can't forget that iconic music video moment either.
Oh, you can call me Al. 1986 with Paul Simon.
Jay's just perfectly lip syncing all of Simon's
lyrics. It cemented his presence across movies,
TV, and the booming music video culture all at
once. What a decade for him. But, you know, despite
that incredible high point in the 80s, the money,
the cultural impact, the 1990s brought some pretty
significant career turbulence. This is really
the periods where that instability we've hinted
at. The aversion to structure, the difficulty
with long term collaboration. Exactly. That stuff
started to seriously impact his commercial success.
It was a rough patch, really highlights how quickly
a star can drop from that $7 million a picture
level. He had three consecutive film flops right
at the start of the decade. Yeah, Nothing But
Trouble in 91, they got Razzie nominations, then
Memoirs of an Invisible Man in 92, and Cops and
Robbersons in 94. Critically panned, commercially
disastrous, their combined domestic gross was
only, what, $34 million for three movies? Yeah,
brutal. The single biggest failure and maybe
the most professionally humbling was his attempt
to break into late night TV. Ah, the Chevy Chase
show, September 1993. Launched on the Fox network.
This was the moment really where that old NBC
prediction that he was Carson's successor was
finally put to the test. And it failed spectacularly.
Infamously. Yeah. Canceled after only five weeks.
Just completely crashed and burned. Why do you
think it failed so badly looking back? I think
it really comes down to a clash between his specific
persona and the actual demands of that format.
Chase's whole style was based on anarchic energy,
scripted deadpan delivery, physical gags. Not
spontaneous interviews or witty banter. Exactly.
Which is the absolute cornerstone of successful
late night hosting. The structure of a weeknight
talk show, interviewing guests, dealing with
constant scheduling, maintaining that nightly
persona, it was precisely the kind of restrictive
setup he'd rejected back in 75 when he bolted
from SNL. So the volatility, the arrogance that
worked in short sketches. Proved disastrous when
confined to an hour -long format five nights
a week. He couldn't sustain it or maybe didn't
want to. He did poke fun at himself later though,
right? In that Doritos Super Bowl ad. Yeah, he
showed some capacity for self -deprecation about
it later on. And even during this professional
downturn, his celebrity status remained pretty
potent. He got a star on the Hollywood Walk of
Fame in 93. And was Hasty Puddings Man of the
Year the same year? Right. Confirming he was
still seen as an icon, even when his current
projects weren't landing. He did have some smaller
successes later in the 90s that kind of stabilized
things. Man of the House in 95 made $40 million.
Vegas Vacation in 97, another Griswold outing,
did okay, $36 .4 million. And Snow Day in 2000
made over $60 million. So he kept working, stayed
in the game. But the real return to critical
acclaim came quite a bit later in the late 2000s,
which almost inevitably, it seems, also brought
back that intense volatility. And that brings
us to Community. starting in 2009. Back on NBC
in this really critically acclaimed, clever sitcom,
he played Pierce Hawthorne. The aging, totally
out of touch, kind of offensive, moist tell a
tycoon. It was brilliant metacasting, wasn't
it? Basically playing on his established public
image. The New York Times even praised it, saying
the character's sardonic repartee and slapdash
nonchalance echoed his old Fletch days. Like
the casting itself was an inside joke about his
fame. The show really thrived on its smart writing,
its ensemble. But the conflict started almost
right away and just got... got worse, primarily
because Chase grew really uncomfortable with
where Pierce's character was going. He got meaner.
Right. More bigoted. Yeah. Often cruel. And it
started reflecting, maybe uncomfortably, some
of the very real life volatility and whimpered
offset behavior that had followed Chase for years.
This tension blew up in that shocking incident
in 2012. Right. He had this explosive outburst
on set, yelling basically that if the character
kept going down this path, he might eventually
be asked to call Donald Glover's or Yvette Nicole
Brown's character the N -word in some misguided
attempt at edgy comedy. Wow. That's crossing
a major line. Huge line. An extreme, unfiltered
expression of frustration that went way beyond
professional disagreement. Even in a comedy writer's
room context, he did apologize later for the
outburst. But the damage was done. Pretty much.
It just solidified this pattern. Difficulty accepting
the long -term, structured evolution of a character,
especially one that maybe required him to expose
or ridicule uncomfortable parts of his own aging
public image. So the result was, what, a mutual
agreement for him to leave? Yeah. the show due
to these irreconcilable disagreements about the
character about the direction and with the show's
creator dan harman interestingly after he left
chase apparently claimed the show wasn't funny
enough Which kind of contradicts all the critical
praise it got. His character was eventually killed
off in the fifth season. The whole arc just perfectly
encapsulates the paradox. Incredible talent delivering
brilliant moments, but limited ability to maintain
those long -term collaborative professional bonds.
And this pattern of conflict, it goes way back,
right back to his early post -SNL days. We have
to talk about that infamous 1978 fistfight with
Bill Murray backstage at SNL. Oh, yeah. The stuff
of legend. Happened when Chase came back to host
after leaving. It just highlights the intense
rivalry simmering since Murray replaced him.
Where did it happen? Who saw it? Sources say
it was in John Belushi's dressing room, witnessed
by pretty much the entire remaining original
cast. What started it? Apparently, Murray made
a really derogatory comment about Chase's then
-troubled marriage to Jacqueline Carlin. Chase
fired back, criticizing Murray's physical appearance.
It got ugly fast, personally. Lorraine Newman
later called it very sad and painful and awful.
Said both guys immediately went for the thing
that would hurt the other one the most. It shows
this deep underlying tension, doesn't it? Rooted
in professional jealousy, the whole departed
star versus replacement dynamic, and just raw
personal vulnerability. But despite how intense
that fight was, they somehow reconciled enough
to start together in Caddyshack just two years
later, in 1980. Which shows that sometimes...
I guess professional necessity or maybe just
the appeal of a great project could outweigh
even a really bitter personal feud, at least
for a while. OK, let's turn to his personal life
for a bit. He's been married three times, correct?
That's right. First marriage was to Suzanne Hewitt
from 73 to 76. Then to Jacqueline Carlin, the
one whose reluctance to move to New York was
cited for his SNL departure. That lasted from
76 to 80. No children from those first two marriages.
But he found long -term stability with his third
wife. Yes, Janie Luke. They married in 1982 and
are still together today. They have three daughters,
Sydney, Kaylee, and Emily, and they live up in
Bedford, New York now. And there's that interesting
little detail about him being honorary mayor
of Pacific Palisades back in the 80s. Yeah, between
86 and 88. Yeah. Just a little footnote showing
some civic engagement amidst all the Hollywood
chaos. We also need to circle back to the substance
abuse issues because they seem so directly tied
into the career narrative we've been building.
Definitely. Our sources are pretty explicit that
his initial use of prescription painkillers started
back in 1986 and it was due to chronic. ongoing
back pain. Pain resulting from? Directly from
his career choice. Specifically related to all
the physical comedy, the constant pratfalls he
performed, especially on SNL and in those early
films. And that near -death electric shock incident
in 1980 probably didn't help things long -term
either. Likely exacerbated everything. So the
very thing that made him famous, the physical
comedy, was literally breaking down his body,
which then led directly to addiction issues.
He went into treatment. Yeah, he entered the
Betty Ford Center in 1986, specifically for prescription
painkiller addiction. And then much later, in
2016, he sought treatment again, entering the
Hazelden Clinic, this time for alcoholism. It
really highlights how that complex mix, the internal
turmoil from his childhood, maybe, combined with
the physical demands and damage from his career,
led to this long pattern of self -medication
and substance reliance. It's a tough cycle. Very
tough. Now, shifting gears slightly, looking
at his public and political side, Chase is generally
identified as a political liberal, right? Yeah.
And he's been quite active over the years as
an environmentalist and philanthropist, campaigned
for Democrats like Bill Clinton in the 90s. John
Kerry in 2004, endorsed Hillary Clinton in 2008.
But his political outspokenness sometimes manifested
in that same kind of volatile, unfiltered way
we saw directed at colleagues. You're thinking
of that 2004 incident. Exactly. During a speech
at a People for the American Way, benefit a typically
liberal group. Mind you, he delivered these incredibly
controversial remarks, just savaging the then
President George W. Bush. What did he say again?
He called Bush an uneducated, real lying schmuck.
And a dumb fuck. On stage. At a benefit. Yeah.
The comments were apparently so extreme they
upset both the event organizers and people in
the generally sympathetic audience. It just shows
that tendency again, doesn't it? That comedic
persona built on deadpan arrogance and pushing
boundaries often lack the filter needed for well
-structured professional settings or even political
discourse. Absolutely. But despite all the career
ups and downs, the personal issues, the recurring
conflicts, Chase has shown some real enduring
star power, especially in recent years. The sheer
power of his most famous character, Clark Griswold,
brought him back. That 2015 vacation movie, the
reboot sequel thing. Right. He reprised the role
for just a brief but... Pretty pivotal cameo
in that fifth installment, also just called Vacation.
And even though critics mostly hated the movie.
It made a ton of money, didn't it? Yeah, over
$107 million worldwide. Which just confirms that
the cultural attachment people have to those
iconic 80s characters, especially Griswold, remains
incredibly strong. He also popped up in Hot Tub
Time Machine 2 around the same time, 2015. And
more recently, he starred with Richard Dreyfuss
in that Netflix movie The Last Laugh in 2019.
And he's listed in a new Christmas movie coming
out, The Christmas Letter, with Randy Quaid and
Brian Doyle Murray. Right. So it shows his enduring
celebrity, particularly in that kind of ensemble
or family comedy space, still draws him back
into projects, often playing on their classic
comedic persona, even if his relationship with
the actual structure of Hollywood seems, well,
persistently strained. So if we try to tie this
whole history together, connect it to the bigger
picture. The story of Chevy Chase is really one
of immense, immediate, almost singular talent,
isn't it? Undeniable. A generational talent.
Won multiple Emmys in his first year out. Commanded
a $7 million salary at his absolute peak. Fundamentally
defined the style and tone of modern sketch comedy.
This incredible talent. was consistently, dramatically
contrasted with the volatility of his personal
interactions. That 1978 fistfight with Bill Murray,
the abrupt, explosive exit from community, the
infamous short -lived talk show disaster. He
was, professionally and personally, just this
constant high -wire act of comedy and conflict.
So what does it all mean then? I mean, he was
an undeniable cultural force. He transformed
slapstick for a new generation, often delivering
comedic performances that looked completely effortless
on screen. Deceptively effortless. Right. Yet
his genius clearly came at a cost. His career
journey was just marked by these intensely complex
relationships, both in his personal life, maybe
stemming, like you said, from that difficult,
abusive, yet highly privileged background, and
definitely in his professional life, where the
basic demands of collaboration seemed to constantly
clash with his. I guess, anarchic personality.
Indeed. And that leads us to the final thought,
maybe something for you, the listener, to ponder.
For someone whose entire career hinged on perfectly
timed physical comedy and that projection of
effortless charm, why did the transition to structured,
long -term collaboration, whether it was in a
writer's room, on a nightly talk show set, or
anchoring a sitcom for years, why did that consistently
prove to be his most difficult, almost career
-defining challenge? We've seen how maybe that
trauma -driven need for self -preservation, for
control, combined perhaps with the physical toll
his craft took on him, maybe created a personality
fundamentally resistant to the vulnerability
and compromise that long -term teamwork requires.
Exactly. That's something to consider as you
reflect on this deep dive into the complex, often
contradictory, undeniably impactful history of
Chevy Chase.