There will be a memorial service in the coming months, on Long Island. As soon as I know more, I’ll post the information here, and on Facebook.
People have been asking where they could make a donation in Jim’s name, if he had a favorite charity.  I couldn’t think of one, but Jim was one of the most generous people I knew. If he knew someone was in trouble, he would be there for them, in many ways, including financially when he was able (and sometimes when he wasn’t), sometimes anonymously, sometimes not.  So I think the best way to honor his memory would be to do the same, in whatever form is the most meaningful for you.

Mark, John and Ann, fans of Mookie and King of Queens, created this montage of nearly all of his roles on the King of Queens over the years (more than 18 different characters.) John took a great deal of  time, and care, to create this, and we were both so impressed, and touched.  (Mookie The Annoying Carnival Barker was one of my favorites, mostly because of the name. And the mullet.)  Thank you, John, this is a wonderful remembrance.

Jim never ever made me feel like I was a hack or not funny. He always treated me like a colleague and a friend. I loved his sarcasm that kept everything grounded. He had a gentle soul wrapped in a gruff facade that wasn't "real." He was one of a kind and I will truly miss all he's given me. And a quick shoutout to Joann. An amazing human being. You were both blessed to have each other and I'm fortunate to call you both friends

Part 2  From Rick: Three years later Jim married his first wife, Barbara and in the coming years they had two daughters and a son, Pleshette, Lisa and Jamie. Jim had started flight training at the Deer Park airport where he got his private pilot license. (Years later, his grandson Ronnie would have the same flight instructor.)  Jim and Barbara moved to Grand Prairie Texas when our parents moved there, our dad AF Myers was now an instructor for American Airlines.  At this time Jim backed away from flying and worked as a keyboard player for a rock band called The Funky Company.  It was in Texas that Jim cut his one and only comedy album, “Alive and Ill in Dallas”.
    In the next year, Jim and Barbara moved back to LI where they bought their first home as Jim found work as a carpenter. Jim worked a very tough job as he learned his trade and became a skilled carpenter. Outdoor carpentry in the NY winters was very tough work. Jim eventually had his own crew and building decks become his forte.   It was at this time that a lightbulb clicked on and Jim began to pursue a career in comedy in earnest.  So while working in carpentry during the day, retail in the evenings, he would go into the city at night for as much stage time as he could get.
   In 1978 he used his carpentry and construction skills to build out what would become East Side Comedy Club in Huntington, Long Island, for Richie Minervini. In the early 1980s, he worked on renovating Chuckles Comedy Club and then took on the task of managing the talent for that club and expanding his own comedy career at the same time, creating the character of Klaus Myers and eventually becoming a headliner at comedy clubs everywhere.

Part 1 Jim was born in Memphis, TN. Our family was only there for about three years before moving to Long Island, NY as our father Audis Myers (Frank or AF to friends and family) was transferred to NY for his job with American Airlines. We lived in Bayside for about two years before moving to Farmingdale where our parents bought their first home. Farmingdale was growing fast but it was a nice small town.  Jim and I were two grades apart and grew up riding our bikes all over town with frequent trips to Carvel’s for their famous soft ice cream.  We played with our neighborhood friends - games like Ringalevio, baseball, football and handball on the large brick wall of the strip mall building next door to our house. 
     When Jim was in tenth grade we formed a rock group called Desiree with drummer Joe Green. We had various opportunities to perform. In tenth grade Jim and I were part of a folk group called The Midnight Ramblers. We had a lot of fun singing on the LIRR as we made trips into the city and Greenwich Village.  There were eight of us in the group and we played with some success, including winning the amateur competition at the Forest Hills Folk Festival in 1963. That summer the group traveled by bus to Orlando and were booked into a folk music event at the Orlando Coliseum and Tampa facility. The show had Brothers Four, Bob Gibson and Lynn Gould. That summer marked the end of the folk group.

I first met Jim outside of a comedy club on Long Island. I was leaving after doing a 10 minute set. He stopped me in the parking lot and said, " you can do have this career if you want it." It was so kind and meaningful to me.
Through the years, Jim and I remained friends. We were pen pals for a while and I saved every letter he wrote to me. When I'd call or when he'd call me, the first thing we did was laugh. No jokes, just pure delight at hearing each others voice.
The last few months were difficult as Jim was always exhausted and had trouble breathing. 
I will always cherish our friendship and I will miss his voice and him calling me "Wilson". I loved him very much.

Jim and I were stuck on the Belt Parkway on a sweltering summer day in my ‘78 Olds Cutlass Salon that had a broken air conditioner. The windows were rolled down but there was no relief. It as brutal. After a long lull in the conversation Jim said, “Don’t you have any heat in this car?”
I looked over to him. “I do.”
“Well, what’s the hold up, Johnny?”
With smiles on our faces we both rolled up our windows and I cranked on the heater to full blast. We started laughing.
“Wish I’d brought a sweater.”
“My teeth are chattering.”
“Sure could use a hot cocoa.”
“I think I just saw a penguin in the back seat.”
It must have been 150 degrees in that car as we laughed our asses off, sweat rolling off our faces, both of us barely able to breathe. I broke first because I was behind the wheel and was starting to lose consciousness. I turned off the heater and we rolled our windows down, leaning our heads out and gasping for air so that we wouldn’t die. 
After a moment Jim turned to me and said, “Again?” and we both started laughing as we rolled our windows back up.
Jim taught me that it’s not enough to BE funny. You have to LIVE funny.

Once, while playing a gig in Fort Lauderdale, Jim asked me to get his cigarettes out of the glove compartment of his rented silver Toyota, which was parked outside the club. I went out to the car and opened it, but did not see the cigarettes in the glove compartment. I returned to Jim and told him I didn't see the cigarettes. He said, "It's okay; I didn't rent a car." I said That's not funny, Jim. I could have been shot, and we laughed so hard! That's when I saw that he was just a kid and a grown man's body. I'll be seeing you, Jim.

We were, and will always be, idiots together.

One of my Big Brothers.. you are on your new adventure.  Too many memories involving riding my bike, hypnosis, learning harmonies, aluminum masks, Halloween, the Mikado, the diving board in Grand Prairie,... and so much more....  My life has had much variety.. and you've been a wonderful part of it all.   Do a funny silly walk on your new path and just enjoy it all.

There are too many memories to count. But this hug is number one. Love you, Mookie.

OBITUARY

James Russell Myers

July 31, 1947 – July 27, 2025

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