Alan King, 76, the dyspeptic wisecracker whose withering stare, Brooklyn accent and mockery of modern American life made him a comic favorite for six decades, died May 9 at a hospital in New York. He had lung cancer.
To Mr. King, the Long Island Expressway was "the world's largest parking lot." His wife's devotion to neatness was also a problem, he said; he'd get up at 5 a.m. to use the toilet only to find the bed made when he got back.
Insurance companies' policies were equally confounding. After his house was robbed, he said, he called the insurer to collect on his policy only to be told he "should have had fire or theft, not fire and theft."
He also broadened into more topical territory, including civil rights protests. His politics were leftward, and in the late 1960s, he made frequent fun of then-Vice President Spiro T. Agnew, which led to many angry letters when he repeated the jokes on television.
He hosted network specials, became a guest host for Johnny Carson on "The Tonight Show," made comedy albums and wrote best-selling books that brought him wider audiences.
His books had such titles as "Anyone Who Owns His Own Home Deserves It" (1962), "Help! I'm a Prisoner in a Chinese Bakery" (1964), "Is Salami and Eggs Better Than Sex? Memoirs of a Happy Eater" (1985) and "Alan King's Great Jewish Joke Book" (2002). A memoir, "Matzoh Balls for Breakfast and Other Memories of Growing Up Jewish," is scheduled for publication next year.
Mr. King was born Irwin Alan Kniberg in a tough part of Brooklyn where he learned to use his mouth as a weapon. He also boxed, just in case words failed him.
He played drums and led a band that played at bar mitzvahs and other neighborhood events. He left high school to do comedy full time at burlesque houses and in Catskill Mountains resorts.
His assertiveness led to better gigs, such as when he persuaded the management of the Paramount theater chain to let him replace an aging comic on a bill. His career began to flourish when he moved to suburban Queens from downtown Manhattan. The change provoked the humor that became central to his act as he discussed struggling with the phone company, dealing with doctors and making airline reservations.
He spent years doing opening routines for such singers as Lena Horne and Billy Eckstine. His breakthrough came in 1956 when mainstream reviewers caught his act on the same bill with Judy Garland at the Palace Theatre in New York. With excellent feedback, he and Garland toured Europe and performed for royalty, including Queen Elizabeth II.
After that show, he had an audience with the queen, who asked, "How do you do, Mr. King?"
He replied: "How do you do, Mrs. Queen?"
A few painful seconds passed in silence. "She stared at me, and then Prince Philip laughed," he said. "Thank God Prince Philip laughed."
On his return to the United States, he became a regular on Ed Sullivan's show and other television variety programs. He also was a favorite at the Latin Quarter in New York, the Sands Hotel in Las Vegas and other prominent clubs.
He was asked to appear in films, but found Hollywood a letdown when he was repeatedly cast as "the sergeant from Brooklyn named Kowalski." He made his movie debut as a shore patrolman in the musical "Hit the Deck" (1955), followed by small roles in such films as "The Girl He Left Behind" (1956) and "The Helen Morgan Story" (1957).
He had a rare leading part in Sidney Lumet's comedy "Just Tell Me What You Want" (1980), as a business tycoon infatuated with his mistress, played by Ali MacGraw. He goes to great lengths to win her back from her new, younger boyfriend.
Mr. King made several Broadway appearances, notably as a psychiatrist who is writing a book about teenagers but is hopelessly out of touch with his own daughter in the comedy "The Impossible Years" (1965). The show ran 670 performances.
In the mid- to late 1960s, he produced such Broadway shows as "The Lion in Winter," "Dinner at Eight" and "Something Different."
With investments in several successful businesses, he used much of his fortune for charitable donations. He also founded a pro tennis tournament, the Alan King Tennis Classic in Las Vegas.
Survivors include his wife, three children and seven grandchildren.
He made his family a focus of his humor, but not all his family stories were endearing. In the early 1970s, he turned in one of his teenage sons for taking drugs and then taking the family car for a drive.
He blamed himself -- and his ambition -- for the situation. "I was away, working five, six nights a week," he told an interviewer. "They need a father, and I wasn't there."
Alan King, known for skewering suburbia, rose from the Catskills to Hollywood and Las Vegas.
