Carrot Top: ‘If not for Gallagher, I wouldn’t be a comedian’

A fan approached Carrot Top at North Italia Restaurant on Thursday afternoon. This person immediately recognized the red-headed figure as a famous comedian.

But not as Carrot Top.

“He comes up to me and says, ‘I love you!’” Carrot Top said Friday morning. “I said, ‘Thanks!’ And he says, ‘Are you still hitting the watermelons?’”

Even near the end, Gallagher was an omnipresent figure in Carrot Top’s life. The groundbreaking, watermelon-busting comic whose legal name was Leo Anthony Gallagher died Friday while in hospice care in Palm Springs, Calif. He was 76. Gallagher had a long history of heart ailments.

Carrot Top, whose legal name is Scott Thompson, had known Gallagher since Thompson was 10 years old in his hometown of Cocoa, Fla. It was a fluke of comedy, and of life. Gallagher’s manager at the time, the surfer-turned-entertainment exec Gary Propper, lived two doors down from the Thompson family.

Gallagher was the first celebrity entertainer Carrot Top ever knew.

“If it wasn’t for Gallagher, I wouldn’t be a comedian, it’s that simple,” Thompson said. “I went to see him perform when I was 12, 13, 14 years old. I wanted to be that guy.”

Thompson first saw Gallagher perform at a skateboard expo in a park in Melbourne, Fla. Within three years, the man in the moustache and black hat was wielding the Sledge-O-Matic at the 3,700-seat Sunrise (Fla.) Musical Theater.

“He was just getting bigger and bigger, then he was playing arenas,” Thompson said. “I could see that what he was doing was becoming really successful.”

Remnants of Gallagher’s act are still evident in Carrot Top’s show, which marks its 17th anniversary at Luxor this month.

“I learned so much from him,” Thompson said. “His method of writing out his act on a piece of cardboard, I still do that, to this day … “It’s funny, I’m the only comedian who is still associated with him.”

While both were famous for creating props, Carrot Top has long marveled at Gallagher’s wordplay, “His bit where pronounces words that are spelled the same, ‘T-O-M-B, Tom? No! T-O-M-B, tomb! OK, B-O-M-B, boom? No! B-O-M-B, bomb!’” Thompson said. “Or, ‘Why do they call them buildings when they’re already done building them? They should call them ‘Builts.’

“It’s only about four minutes long, but it is the most clever bit in comedy.”

A laugh factory

Harry Basil always referred to Gallagher as, “A crazy genius.”

“He used to tell me, ‘Never become famous, because people always recognize you and never leave you alone,’” says Basil, a veteran headlining comic and general manager of Laugh Factory at the Tropicana. “I said, ‘Don’t you think wearing the striped shirt, bowler hat, suspenders and carrying the mallet around might have something to do with it?”

Basil’s “mallet” reference was to Gallagher’s iconic prop, the Sledge-O-Matic, which Gallagher used to smash assorted items, closing with watermelons. The spray of watermelon juice and pieces required audience members seated near the stage to wear rain slicks or plastic bags.

More #Gallagher, ⁦@TropLV⁩ ⁦@LaughFactoryLAS⁩ sign. He made an impact beyond smashing watermelons. #RJNow ⁦@reviewjournal⁩ pic.twitter.com/mdAj5gpmms

— John Katsilometes (@johnnykats) November 13, 2022

Gallagher relished the absurdity of the routine, joking of the Sledge-O-Matic’s versatility, “It can teach even the dumbest dog to play dead.”

Classic. @RealCarrotTop & #Galagher, 2013, @LuxorLV. RIP to Gallagher, a brilliant entertainer. #RJNow @reviewjournal pic.twitter.com/fKE4MzuwBN

— John Katsilometes (@johnnykats) November 11, 2022

The comedian’s final Vegas residency performances were at Basil’s club from June-December 2013. But Basil would not allow the Sledge-O-Matic in Laugh Factory, simply because it was too messy. Gallagher performed a straight stand-up act.

“He still killed,” Basil said. “Standing ovations, every night.” Basil was impressed that the nationally known comic, performing after Roseanne and before Rich Little, did not want a rousing introduction.

“He just wanted to walk onstage, with the lights still up, no intro at all,” Basil said. “That is hard for a comedian to do, to get the audience’s attention just to start your set. It was a testament to his confidence.”

This was just after the comedian appeared in Geico commercials. Gallagher seemed omnipresent at the Trop in those days, hanging around Laugh Factory during all hours and also at the lounge outside Tiffany Theater. As Basil said, “He was really just hanging around, waiting for the comics to come and go.”

A smash in Vegas

Gallagher had headlined Vegas dating to the 1980s, when he opened at the Sands. He was among the first comedians to play arenas across the country, and was a star on several Showtime and Comedy Central concert specials.

“He was playing arenas at a time when Steve Martin was the only other comic doing it,” Basil said. “He was just huge in his prime.”

Basil also recalled a Gallagher trait that frequently irked his fellow comics.

“He would hang around the green room and give notes to comics about their acts,” Basil said. “He drove everyone a little nuts. I’d get these messages, ‘Why is he still in the green room?’”

Gallagher had feuded with his brother, Ron, who had developed his own “Gallagher”-style act with a replica Sledge-O-Matic. The two looked enough alike to create confusion. Gallagher allowed his brother to continue to perform with the prop (charging him a fee) as long as he made it clear he was not the original Gallagher.

The headliner was also in a dispute at Riverside Hotel in Laughlin, where an audience member claimed the comedian slapped him during a show. The comic claimed the ticket-holder was a “plant” from the show the night before.

Gallagher claimed he slapped the seated guest to get his attention, because he wanted to bring the individual to the stage once more but he was talking to a cocktail server. The comedian likened the episode to throwing a pie in someone’s face, “It got a laugh,” he said, “and that’s what this is about.”

On his own plane

Though he frequently engaged strangers in conversation, Gallagher was sometimes off-putting to those who approached him. Basil remembers a fan coming up to Gallagher outside of the hotel, as the comic smoked a cigarette (against doctors’ orders).

The man brought along his son, who looked to be about 5 years old. The fan said he was a huge fan and wanted a photo taken with the comedian and his kid.

“Gallagher says, ‘He doesn’t even know who I am,’ referring to his son,” Basil said. “And the dad says, ‘Yeah, but I am a big fan and it would be cool to have him in the photo.’ And Gallagher says, ‘I’ll take one with you, but not him.’ I said, ‘Gallagher, it would be so easy just to take the photo with the two of them,’ but that’s how he was. It’s not that he was being mean, he just over-analyzed things. Sometimes he was his own worst enemy.”

Gallagher was known to call colleagues randomly with some inspired concept or project. Basil said the one of the last times he spoke to the comedian, he had a vision for how to perform comedy during the Covid-19 shutdown.

“He said, ‘You line up the comics in the parking lot, and drivers roll down their windows and the comics would tell jokes for five minutes,’” Basil said. “’Then you’d move to the next comic, up to the headliner.’ He would come up with that kind of stuff all the time, talking about these things until he just wore you out.”

Reunion with CT

Carrot Top and Gallagher were at odds — or at least Gallagher was at odds with Carrot Top — after Propper started managing Thompson. Gallagher told Carrot Top he felt he had “stolen” his manager. Gallagher had also accused Thompson of plucking specific routines for his stage show in Vegas.

Thompson has always said that was not the case, and anyone who has observed both acts knows he’s right. The two eventually worked out their differences over dinner.

“He said, ‘You’re right, I’m just (angry) that you’re having success as a prop act,’” Thompson said. “We finally made up, which meant a lot to me.”

Gallagher regularly visited Carrot Top’s show at Luxor, during the months he was performing at Laugh Factory. Gallagher would typically critique Thompson’s performance after the show.

“Oh, yeah, he would say, ‘Move the trunks over to the other side, turn them around so no one can see inside,’” Thompson said. “I’d get these messages from Dan (O’Leary, Carrot Top’s tour manager), ‘Your best friend is here again.’”

From last night: @RealCarrotTop tribute to #Gallagher. Going out with a bang, and also a watermelon … #RJNow @reviewjournal pic.twitter.com/useigeuPYP

— John Katsilometes (@johnnykats) November 13, 2022

Carrot Top eventually worked Gallagher into the show. He and his assistant, Jeff Molitz, went to Vons for a watermelon and worked up an oversized mallet.

“At the end of the show, I would put a the watermelon on a stool and bring out this mallet, and it would always kill,” Thompson said. “I wanted to have Gallagher wearing a Carrot Top shirt and rush out and stop me. But when I asked him what he thought, he goes, ‘What is the point? What are you going for here?’”

Carrot Top convinced Gallagher to perform the bit. “He sold it, he pushes me like five times away from the watermelon. The crowd was in a frenzy. It was so great.”

Over the past year, Team Carrot Top had been developing a watermelon prop, a 300-pound set piece outfitted placed on a wooden case and outfitted with confetti cannons. Gallagher’s famous caricature, re-branded with “Carrot Top” in its hat, faces the crowd. Carrot Top slams the fake melon with a giant mallet, sending yellow streamers skyward. The comic debuted the new bit to close Saturday’s show.

“I’ve never heard a crowd erupt like they did last night,” Thompson said Sunday, after posting the clip. “It made me cry.”

John Katsilometes’ column runs daily in the A section. His “PodKats!” podcast can be found at reviewjournal.com/podcasts. Contact him at jkatsilometes@reviewjournal.com. Follow @johnnykats on Twitter, @JohnnyKats1 on Instagram.