Billy Crystal Remembers His Late Manager, David Steinberg: ‘He Was One of a Kind’

If a seasoned obituary writer were to tell the story of David Steinberg’s life and profession, he would find it challenging to fully portray the complete image of one of the most distinctive individuals I have ever encountered. If this sounds like a eulogy, you’re probably not going to be there, so here we go.

For 48 years, this funny, bold (and I apologize, David), caring individual who never wore socks was my manager, trusted advisor, friend, and eventually part of my family.

David moved to L.A. from Milwaukee, where he was born in 1943. Following an academic background that was unmatched by anyone, along with his innate sense of humor, outgoing personality, and talent for making things up, he launched a thriving career in public relations. He worked with Peter Sellers, Sammy Davis Jr., and numerous others before I hired him to handle my publicity when I began my career.Soap back in 1977.

After becoming familiar with my managers, who were regarded as the top in comedy management—Jack Rollins, Charlie Joffe, Buddy Morra, and Larry Brezner, with whom I had signed back in 1974—he was invited to join the company and move away from the PR field. He was a perfect match and quickly took on responsibilities not only for my career but also for my close friend Robin Williams.

He was extremely sharp and fast-thinking. When I began to experiment with a mimicry of Fernando Lamas, I would call David at his office as Fernando, and we’d have a discussion aboutEsther Williamsand all the others in the entertainment industry. This is where “You look Mahvelous” originated, and it eventually became a well-known character and slogan during my time on the show.SNL in 1984-85.

When Buddy retired and Larry concentrated entirely on producing movies, David safeguarded Robin and me like one of those dogs inThe OmenHis strong sense of humor placed us all on the same level sometimes. He would travel with us, attend our performances, take notes, and jot down jokes (without being asked most of the time), yet he was crucial to our happiness both on and off the stage.

We would ignore it when he had already eaten the food in our dressing rooms before we arrived, and then not complain when he took the plates, glasses, and silverware from the table before we finished eating the small amount that remained.

In 1989, he accompanied me to Moscow when I was the first American comedian to perform in the former Soviet Union for HBO’s.Midnight Train to MoscowHe faced the KGB daily and continually negotiated with Russian contacts who failed to meet the terms we had established. Does this ring a bell?

We were filming a nighttime scene in front of the Kremlin, but the lights we had paid for to be illuminated were not. I noticed David speaking with a menacing man, and then the lights turned on. I asked him what he said to the man. He responded, “I asked what it would take to turn them on. He told me, so I gave him $500 and a dual cassette boom box.”

We had to transport a food truck from England to the USSR, equipped with a chef and quality meals for two weeks because the Chernobyl disaster had contaminated much of the food supply, and the loss of the horse population made us cautious about the New York Strip. Thus, David was in the truck preparing spaghetti sauce and pasta for our Russian team, who watched David with astonishment as he served them food they had never encountered before.

We went to see Lenin’s tomb together, with a serious Russian security officer observing us, and he spoke loudly enough for the officer to hear, “His foot moved.” We were advised to leave quickly.

He traveled to Afghanistan and Iraq with Robin to perform for the troops, feeling anxious about the risky takeoffs and landings the plane required, yet delighted by how the soldiers responded to Robin. He wasn’t just an observer; he also had many meaningful conversations with the soldiers himself.

He assembled the writing teams for all nine of my Oscar hosting gigs and was backstage with me, Bruce Vilanch, Robert Wuhl, and later the talented Jon Macks to oversee the show and hopefully develop fresh material if the chance arose.

He, Bruce, and Robert were with me in 1992 when Jack Palance performed one-armed pushups, and we abandoned our original plans to come up with jokes for the rest of the evening. That group, which included David, won an Emmy for that episode.

We traveled through the United States and Australia together on two occasions, one time with700 Sundays, my Broadway show, and the other a 35-city concert tour. No task was too minor, no task too significant. It was David who brought positive news, and it was David who had to inform me that Robin and Larry Brezner, individuals we both cherished, had passed away. He was truly one of a kind.

As Whoopi Goldberg remarked about David, “There was no one more sharp, more humorous, and more affectionate than David. Throughout my years observing Billy, Robin, and David’s interactions at Comic Relief, I realized the significance of his role in their careers and, even more importantly, in their personal lives.”

For Janice and me, he was a reliable family member. To my daughters, he was a cherished uncle. His abilities were admired by our fellow artists. No manager possessed the skills that Steinberg had.

Currently, there are management companies that have large teams and separate departments for personal appearances, books, movies, social media, and more. Throughout his life, David operated as a solo performer. He continuously learned to keep pace with the evolving requirements of the industry, even though he never fully figured out how to use his mobile phone.

He felt happy and proud when positive events occurred. When challenges arose, he was compassionate, calming, and truthful. He understood how much debate and frustration he could tolerate before crossing the line into being ejected, much like a manager confronting an umpire who made an incorrect call.

He represented the renowned Bette Midler, who stated, “I loved him. He was witty, sarcastic, and very funny, yet largely a gentleman, all things considered. I always anticipated our meetings because I knew I would be laughing uncontrollably, although he was also an excellent supporter. He had experienced everything, at least twice, and remained completely unaffected by anything the industry threw his way. The end of an era.”

Bette expressed it beautifully. My original managers, Jack Rollins, Charlie Joffe, Buddy Morra, and Larry Brezner, are all no longer around, and now David has passed away as well.

They symbolized a time in comedy, ranging from Woody Allen to Nichols & May, Dick Cavett, Tom Poston, Robert Klein, Martin Mull, Paula Poundstone, Martin Short, David Letterman, Robin, and me. Now, for me, there’s a void, a gap that will never be filled. He passed away after a long and tough battle with cancer early Saturday morning. If I could have told him that it was also the day Babe Ruth died, I know he would have said, “So I get second place?”

He was blessed with a wonderful family. His wife, Brynn Thayer, is an outstanding actress and has recently become a playwright. She is strong and very funny, making her the ideal partner for his personality and his sometimes inappropriate humor. She tirelessly supported him as his health worsened, and her love for him was unmatched. Their son, Mason, is now a talented comedy writer and producer, having learned from his father the skill of crafting jokes with meaning. I believe this warm and irreverent style will be passed on to his son, Owen, David’s only grandchild, whom he adored beyond words. His sister, Sari, and his goddaughter, Molly, were also significant loves in his life.

There are numerous tales and narratives I could select to conclude this, but I opted to rephrase the words of the renowned author John O’Hara regarding his friend George Gershwin after his death. “George Gershwin passed away on July 11, 1937, yet I don’t need to accept it if I don’t wish to.”

David Steinberg, my manager and my friend, passed away on August 16, 2025, but I’m not required to accept it if I don’t wish to.

Dear reader, I apologize if you were never able to meet him or get to know him, and to those of you who did… well, all you can say is this is truly unfortunate.