Free My Remarkable Journey by Larry King

people, or if he just liked listening
     to my show. But Charlie Bookbinder had an idea that changed my life. Charlie’s restaurant was a Jewish deli called Pumpernik’s.
     It was open twenty-four hours a day. But the hour after breakfast, between ten and eleven, wasn’t bringing in much business.
     So Charlie got this idea to have me broadcast live from the restaurant. I’d do a morning show from the studio of WKAT between
     six and nine, all the while promoting the fact that I’d be broadcasting live from Pumpernik’s between ten and eleven.
    I had no idea how the switch from WAHR would develop my style. What really got my attention was the increase in pay. WKAT
     was offering a hundred dollars a week!
    I showed up at Pumpernik’s on the first day and found a sign in the window for
The Larry King Show
and an elevated stage. That was it. There was no producer. Just me. It turned out to be a wonderful breeding ground. Who
     knew? I’d never really interviewed anyone apart from my one experience with Leo Durocher. Now I was interviewing anyone who
     came over—waiters, customers on vacation, conventioneers. Anything could happen. There was no way to be prepared, because
     I never knew who was coming over next. This forced me to think on the fly.
    I mean, when was the last time you heard a plumber being interviewed? I can still remember doing forty-five minutes with one.
     The guy said, “People don’t think about it, but plumbing is the key to your house. Without plumbing, your house can’t function.
     Your bed falls down, you can sleep on the floor. But if your plumbing is screwed up, you need me. I make your house work.”
    “Is there an artistry to plumbing?” I asked him.
    “Definitely. What makes one fixture better than another? You have to size things up. Do you know why New York City has the
     best water in the world? Because when they built the system years ago, they made it with copper. Copper is the best piping
     you can have. Copper doesn’t rust. The water stays pure. You make sure copper is in your bathroom, and you’ll have much less
     trouble…”
    The specialness of an interview like that is how unspecial it is. It’s the essence of what I do. I’m an everyday guy, and
     my interviews attract the everyday guy. But they also attract the everyday guy in people who can do things that are special.
    After I’d done about two weeks at Pumpernik’s, the singer Bobby Darin walked in. He had trouble sleeping at night, and he
     had been up at six that morning, listening to me promote the show. I loved “Mack the Knife” and the rest of Bobby’s music,
     but, again, there was no way to prepare. I interviewed him for an hour, and it worked out great. He told me he was embarrassed
     to have written “Splish Splash.” Afterward, we took a long walk down Collins Avenue. This was really an experience for me.
     Little Larry Zeiger from Brooklyn was walking down Collins Avenue with the singer of a number one hit, and he was confiding
     in me. Darin was born with a rheumatic heart. He was telling me that he knew he was going to die at an early age. That’s why
     he worked so hard and tried to pack so much into his life. He knew he was on borrowed time. He wanted to do everything yesterday.
    One of the newspapers wrote about Bobby Darin going on with Larry King at Pumpernik’s. Before long, Jimmy Hoffa walked in.
     When you talk to plumbers, you make friends with teamsters. The Teamsters union was in town for a convention, and a few guys
     I knew brought in Hoffa. Once Hoffa started to talk, the restaurant began to fill. Hoffa was a character. Tough as nails.
    I asked Hoffa what kind of truck driver he was and found out he wasn’t a truck driver. He was a loader. Which is why, he said,
     whenever he went in to negotiate a contract, the first thing management had to do was promise to heat the loading platforms.
     He used to freeze his ass off at four in the morning loading trucks in Detroit. “If you