Today, we’re taking a look at Phil Hartman – actor, comedian, writer, impressionist, and graphic designer. We’ll be exploring his nomadic childhood, his early years spent doing theater improv, his glory days on Saturday Night Live, and, of course, his sudden and shocking ending.
Early Years
Philip Edward Hartmann (yes, two “n”) was born on September 24, 1948, in Brantford, Ontario, Canada, the fourth of eight children of Rupert Hartmann and Doris Wardel.
Phil Hartman (or “Phippie,” as he was called back then) grew up in a pretty swanky neighborhood, although his family was never truly rich. His father was a traveling salesman, while his mother ran a beauty parlor where she also sold paintings and sketches that she made. It seems like his parents tried to keep up appearances and put on a show of affluence, so all the kids were always dressed nicely, and their parents even belonged to a country club. However, behind closed doors, money was always tight, there was always something that needed fixing, and they could never afford to take family vacations. That being said, they were well-liked in the neighborhood. According to Phil’s sister, Martha: “They loved that we weren’t spoiled and they wanted us to hang out with their kids so maybe something would rub off on them.”
Growing up, Phil got into the sort of scrapes you would expect from a young boy, especially when he was fooling around with his brothers. One time, Phil and his older brother John broke a windowpane on the revolving door of the post office while they were spinning each other inside it, and then made a swift getaway so as not to be pinched for damaging public property. Another time, John almost left Phil blind in one eye when he hit him with a ricocheting BB from his Red Rider gun, and then had to bribe him so that Mom wouldn’t find out about it.
Phil was a bit quieter and more introspective when he was with his sisters. He spent a lot of time with his older sisters, Nancy and Martha, who shared babysitting duties over him and his younger siblings when Mom wasn’t available. And, unfortunately for Phil, there were plenty of times when Mom wasn’t available. Not that she was neglectful or anything like that, but when your husband is often on the road with his job and you have eight kids, there just aren’t enough hours in the day to give everybody their fair share of attention. In the Hartmann family, to get noticed, you had to be either exceptional or a problem. Eldest brother John filled the first role. He was athletic, handsome, charismatic, and stylish, and got plenty of attention from everyone around him, his mother included. On the other hand, there was Phil’s younger sister, Sarah Jane. She suffered from a genetic condition called Angelman Syndrome, even though nobody called it that back then. It came with a host of learning and physical disabilities, so Doris Hartmann had to devote a lot of time to taking care of her. Even this was not enough, so, eventually, Sarah Jane had to be put into professional care.
This left Phil feeling a bit overlooked. According to him, it also created his constant need for approval. He said:
“It was pretty desperate. Couldn’t get a lot of attention. That’s why I’m craving it so much now…I think it was just part of the insecurities that were engendered in me in my childhood, being a middle child in a large family…[It] created a tension in me that made me need to be appreciated.”
During Phil’s early years, his parents had developed a grand ambition – to move to the United States. They were just waiting for the right opportunity. They finally got it in 1957 when Phil’s dad, Rupert, found a job selling roofing supplies for a stateside company named Ruberoid. And just like that, the Hartmanns were moving to the USA.
On the Road
Once they were in the United States, the Hartmanns did a fair bit of traveling before finally settling down in California. First, they went to Maine, where Rupert Hartmann rented a four-bedroom house on Cochnewagon Lake. But this was so remote that one of the main local attractions was the pea-canning factory next to the lake. The Hartmanns wanted something a little more urban, especially for the kids, so just after a few months, the family relocated to Lewiston, still in Maine. This, too, was a short stay before moving on to Meriden, Connecticut. There, the family lived on the bottom floor of a duplex, which they shared with an Italian cop and his wife, who enjoyed preparing traditional meals for their new housemates. But despite the free Italian cuisine, the Hartmanns didn’t stick around Meriden for long, either. In 1958, Rupert found a new job as a sales rep for Whirlpool on the western side of the country. So the Hartmanns prepared for their biggest trek yet, as they set off for California.
First, they settled in Garden Grove, a suburb of Los Angeles. To the delight of ten-year-old Phil and the other young members of the family, they lived within walking distance of Anaheim’s Disneyland Park, and thanks to a family friend with connections, they often got in for free. Alas, this sweet arrangement didn’t last long, because as soon as the Hartmanns could afford a bigger place, they moved again. This time, they stuck around Los Angeles, but went to Westchester, where they rented a three-bedroom cottage. Once they saved up enough money, they relocated to a bigger, ranch-style house on La Tijera Boulevard, and then, finally, the Hartmanns stayed put.
With their nomadic lifestyle tempered for the time being, the young Phil could have a more traditional childhood. He went to the same school for more than one semester. He made friends that he got to hang out with for more than just a few months before never seeing them again. He joined the Boy Scouts. He frequently went camping, hiking, sailing, and swimming. Phil began enjoying all the outdoor activities that the California coast provided for him, and there was none that he enjoyed more than surfing. This was a passion that he kept throughout his life as he became a mainstay of all the popular surfing beaches in the LA area.
At school, Phil was an average student. Here’s a random fact for you: Phil Hartman was a classmate and friend of Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme, a future member of the Manson Family. Although she didn’t take part in the infamous Tate-LaBianca murders, she got life behind bars for attempting to assassinate President Gerald Ford in 1975. After his death, she wrote about him in prison and said:
“I have somewhere my junior high school yearbooks with Phil’s writings and a little cartoon surfer he drew… I think he was funnier in high school than on TV, although some of what I saw on SNL of him was excellent…. We took drama together for 18 months or 2 years, and we had fun. He was more supportive than competitive and so enthusiastic that it was fun to go to class with him and anyone like him.”
While at school, Phil began developing his artistic side, particularly his drawing and acting skills. The first talent he inherited from his mother, who also did paintings and sketches. As for the second one, admittedly, Phil initially joined the drama club to meet girls, but he caught the acting bug, and, soon enough, landed his first lead role in the school production of Li’l Abner.
Once he was finished with middle school, Phil enrolled at Westchester High, where his passion for art continued to flourish. As a teenager, his need for cash increased, so he earned a little on the side by creating funky designs for his schoolmates and applying them to their binders. Later on, he found a job at a local fast-food chain called Woody’s Smorgasburger.
Phil also worked on his comedy, putting on performances for his friends where he did impressions of the popular actors and comedians of the day. People like John Wayne, Jonathan Winters, and Bob Newhart were part of his repertoire.
Once Phil finished high school, he continued his art studies at the Santa Monica City College. This, however, did not last very long. As a young adult, Phil Hartman fully embraced the California surfer lifestyle – he hit the waves, he dated a lot of girls, he smoked a lot of weed, and he just generally took life as it came, one day at a time. So, in 1969, when he was presented with the opportunity to work as a roadie for a rock band named Rockin’ Foo, Phil dropped out of college and went on the road with them, touring across the country.
Also around this time, Hartman met Gretchen Lewis, and the two got married in 1970. It didn’t last, though, and they got divorced in 1972. That same year, Phil decided to finish his education, so he enrolled at California State University at Northridge, where he studied graphic design.
When he graduated in 1974, Hartman found a job designing rock album covers and, guess what, he was really good at it. He kept doing it for the rest of the decade and designed around 40 covers and logos, including for bands such as America, Poco, Steely Dan, and Crosby, Stills & Nash. His personal favorite was the white cover that he did for the Poco album Legend, which was the only one he kept in his office.
Quite a few online sources even claim that Phil Hartman won a Grammy Award for Best Album Package for his work on the album Seven by Poco, but we checked on the Grammy website, and that’s just not true. He wasn’t even nominated, not then, not ever. Hartman was still a great graphic artist, though, not taking that away from him, but he didn’t feel like it was the right outlet for his artistic desires. He wanted to branch out of his “very introverted lifestyle,” as he called it, and try something a bit more daring and liberating. And then, a chance encounter provided Phil Hartman with the perfect opportunity.
Getting into Comedy
One night in 1975, Hartman attended a show by a new improv group called The Groundlings. During the performance, they asked for volunteers. Like a shot, Phil ran to the stage and, from the very first moment, he wowed everyone with his talents. Unsurprisingly, he was asked to join the group, and Phil Hartman was a Groundling for the next ten years of his life.
It didn’t take long before Hartman established himself as an indispensable utility player for the troupe, echoing the role he would later embrace at Saturday Night Live. He was the Swiss army knife of comedy, ready to be used for any occasion, the guy you could count on in any scenario. Friend and fellow Groundling Jon Lovitz said this about him: “Whatever he was going to imagine or say was nothing you could imagine or think of. … He could do any voice, play any character, make his face look different without makeup. He was king of the Groundlings.”
Hartman’s work with the improv group led to a few appearances in movies and TV shows. He made his big screen debut in 1978, in an Australian mockumentary called Stunt Rock, although he was merely an extra alongside a bunch of other Groundlings. That same year, he also made his first television appearance, although, again, it wasn’t exactly a breakout role. He actually appeared as a contestant on The Dating Game.
For most of his career, Hartman stuck to television. We won’t list every credit he ever had, but he did have main or recurring roles in shows such as The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo, Dennis the Menace, and The Smurfs, as well as guest spots in popular shows such as Seinfeld, 3rd Rock from the Sun, Ren & Stimpy, Sesame Street, and DuckTales. And, of course, we’re leaving out the big guns for later.
Hartman’s movie career never rivaled the work he did in television. His talents as a comedian chameleon were far better suited for shorter, episodic content rather than full-length features. That being said, he did have small but memorable roles in films such as Three Amigos, Fletch Lives, and Coneheads.
The Groundlings had some impressive names during its early years besides Phil. We already mentioned Jon Lovitz, of course. There was also Laraine Newman, who went on to become one of the original cast members of SNL. But perhaps none were more important to Hartman’s career than Paul Reubens.
Phil and Paul became friends. Soon after that, they became collaborators and started writing material together. During the late 70s, Hartman helped Reubens develop his iconic character, Pee-wee Herman. Once the character took off, Reubens created a stage show simply titled The Pee-wee Herman Show that featured Phil Hartman as Captain Carl. Then, in 1985, the character was brought to the big screen in Pee-wee’s Big Adventure, co-written by Reubens, Hartman, and Michael Varhol. Bonus fact: it also featured Tim Burton in his feature film directorial debut.
The movie did well and was quickly followed by a TV show, Pee-wee’s Playhouse, where, once again, Hartman served as writer and cast member during its early stages. The show was a hit and won 15 Daytime Emmys during its five-year run, but the relationship between Hartman and Reubens ended acrimoniously. According to Phil, this was mainly because he felt he had not been given fair credit and compensation for helping to create the Pee-wee Herman character, although he stressed that he never took any legal measures against Reubens. We don’t know the specifics of Hartman’s remuneration for his work on the Pee-wee-verse, but, ultimately, he landed okay – Hartman had a few other gigs lined up.
The Heyday
Hartman’s career received a major boost in 1985, following the release of the Pee-wee Herman movie. Thanks to its success, Paul Reubens was invited to host an episode of Saturday Night Live as Pee-wee. Few people understood the character better than Phil Hartman, so Reubens brought him along to write material for the show. That was when Phil first met SNL head honcho Lorne Michaels, who was impressed enough to offer him a job. The following year, the 12th season of Saturday Night Live featured newcomer Phil Hartman as a cast member and writer. He starred in the show alongside his Groundlings buddy, Jon Lovitz, as well as other new recruits such as Jan Hooks and Dana Carvey.
Hartman did SNL for eight years, from 1986 to 1994. Fairly quickly, he developed a reputation as being ultra-reliable and low-maintenance. There were never any theatrics or temper tantrums with Phil. You never had to worry if he was right for a part or not. Whatever role you had for him, big or small, chances were pretty good that Phil would knock it out of the park. His “work wife,” Jan Hooks, said that “Phil never had an ounce of competition. He was a team player. It was a privilege for him, I believe, to play support and do it very well. He was never insulted, no matter how small the role may have been.”
SNL boss Lorne Michaels concurred, saying: “Phil Hartman, I think, is the least appreciated, except here. That kind of ability to do five or six parts in a show where you’re playing support or you’re doing remarkable character work is different than doing the ‘Samurai ‘all the time, or well-known or more popular characters.”
This attitude might have made Phil popular backstage, but perhaps it didn’t quite garner him the kind of recognition that he deserved. Sure, he won a Primetime Emmy Award in 1989 as part of the show’s writing team, as well as earning two more nominations during his stint with SNL, but he stayed on as a roleplayer while his co-stars moved on to bigger and better things.
Of course, Hartman also had other gigs during his time on Saturday Night Live. Most notably, from 1991 until his death, he began doing voiceover work on The Simpsons, which, at the time, was at the peak of its popularity and pop culture relevance. Back then, everyone was singing the Mr. Plow song or trying not to have a cow, man. Hartman appeared in over 50 episodes, voicing multiple characters. Two of them even became beloved permanent residents of Springfield: shifty attorney Lionel Hutz, who did not work on contingency, and faded actor Troy McClure, who you may remember from educational films such as Lead Paint: Delicious but Deadly and Here Comes the Metric System! Unfortunately, although understandably, both characters were retired following Hartman’s death, since the show writers concluded that nobody else would be able to do them justice.
By 1994, almost all of the people who were there when Hartman first started on Saturday Night Live had left the show. It was finally time for him to move on, as well. Fortunately for him, he already had another role lined up – that of loudmouth news anchor Bill McNeal on a new sitcom titled NewsRadio that presented the work lives of the staff of a radio station in New York City.
The show was popular with the critics, but struggled to find a sizable audience and was constantly teetering on the brink of cancellation. It did earn Hartman another Emmy nomination, but, unfortunately, it had to be awarded to him posthumously.
A Shocking End
On the morning of May 28, 1998, Hollywood woke up to an unbelievable headline – beloved actor and comedian Phil Hartman had been killed by his wife during the night. She took her own life a short while later.
Brynn Omdahl had been Hartman’s third wife. His second wife, Lisa Jarvis, Phil met and married during the early 80s, but it was a short marriage, just like his first. However, for a while, it seemed that the third time would be the charm for him. Hartman and Omdahl got married in 1987. They were together for over a decade and had two children together.
There were problems. Hartman’s biographer, Mike Thomas, speculated that Phil liked the idea of fatherhood more than the actual work and time that went into it. Hartman was away from home a lot. Either working, or taking trips on his boat or plane, which he preferred to do either alone or with a friend rather than with his family. That put a strain on their relationship, but the biggest issue was Brynn’s substance abuse problems, particularly alcohol and cocaine. She stayed clean for long periods of time, but sometimes relapsed and behaved erratically. That’s likely what happened on the night she decided to murder her husband.
Phil and Brynn had argued again. Not wanting to continue anymore, Hartman went upstairs and fell asleep. At some point during the next couple of hours, Brynn followed him to the bedroom. She went to the master bathroom where her husband kept a Smith & Wesson .38 in a lockbox. She retrieved the gun, went back inside the bedroom, and shot Phil three times – once in the neck, once in the chest, and once point-blank in the head.
At around 3:30 a.m., she called a friend named Ron Douglas. Brynn told him that Phil wasn’t home and that she didn’t want to be alone. Douglas could tell from her voice that she was wasted. He didn’t feel like dealing with her drama, so he advised her to drink a glass of milk, take some aspirin, and go to bed. However, 20 minutes later, she was at his front door, frantically ringing his doorbell.
Omdahl was hysterical. She confessed that she had killed her husband, even showing Douglas the gun. He, however, did not believe her, but eventually, after she sobered up a bit, he agreed that they would return to her house together. They arrived at around 6 a.m. and, after Douglas entered the master bedroom, he discovered that Brynn had been telling the ghastly truth. Phil Hartman was lying motionless in a pool of his own blood. Visibly shaken, Douglas went downstairs and called the police.
While this was happening, Brynn Omdahl had locked herself in the bedroom and began wailing. At one point, she called her sister Kathy to say goodbye. After that, she put the gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger. The police broke into the bedroom and found both of their bodies soon after.
Phil Hartman’s death came as a shock to those around him. Always low-profile and level-headed, he was the last guy they expected to see implicated in any kind of sordid affair. Soon after the news broke, tributes began pouring in from his friends and colleagues. Hollywood remembered Phil Hartman as a master of his craft, a hard and generous worker, and just an all-around nice guy to be around.
