Phyllis Diller Was a ‘Generous Friend’ — and Even Took a Then-Unknown Barbra Streisand Under Her Wing

For many years, Perry Diller had a standing Monday lunch date at the home of his mother, Phyllis Diller. She was an excellent cook — despite her many jokes to the contrary — but she liked to test the limits of her son’s sense of humor. “She knew that I hated anchovies,” Perry tells Closer. “She would make me a salad and under the lettuce there would be three hidden strips of anchovy. I’d say, ‘You’re such a lunatic!’ but she’d be howling!”

Anchovies aside, Perry feels blessed to have had Phyllis as a mother. The groundbreaking star, who became one of the first nationally famous female comedians, grew up in Ohio aspiring to a career in classical music. Instead, Phyllis eloped with Sherwood Diller, a pal of her brother, and became a mother of five. “My father, unfortunately, was kind of a bum,” Perry says. Sherwood suffered from agoraphobia, leading to frequent unemployment, “but he was the one who encouraged her,” Perry says. “When Milton Berle signed a million-dollar contract with a TV network, he said, ‘You could do that. You are that funny.’ ”

Phyllis found an additional source of strength in The Magic of Believing, a 1948 book about positive thinking by Claude M. Bristol. It changed her life: “From here on, it was straight up, all the way,” she wrote in her 2005 memoir Like a Lampshade in a Whorehouse: My Life in Comedy. “Everything I’d touch would turn to gold.”

In addition to belief, it took a great deal of grit, perseverance and sacrifice — especially since there were so few women in stand-up comedy. “As a little kid, I saw a guy try to trip her as she was going to the stage,” Perry recalls. “The clubs were pretty horrible. There were a lot of drunks, and everyone was smoking. It was like a gray cloud.”

Phyllis also missed her children when she went on the road. “We lived with [family in St. Louis] for a couple of years until my mom started making money,” Perry says. “They lived in a crappy little apartment above a liquor store.”

With a fright wig of bleached hair, hideous over-sized dresses that disguised Phyllis’ slim figure, and a bejeweled cigarette holder, the comedian introduced herself to America as the housewife from hell. She punctuated jokes about her useless husband “Fang,” her awful in-laws, her appearance and her lack of domestic skill with wild, cackling laughter. Phyllis became a pop culture icon and divorced Sherwood in 1965.

Making up lost time with her kids became her next priority. “Mom bought a house,” Perry says. “I went from living on a cot to my own room with a bunk bed so I could have friends over. Growing up, she wasn’t around because she was working so hard, but she was my best buddy.”

Phyllis’ earliest champions, including Bob Hope, Jack Paar and Johnny Carson, would become lifelong pals. “My mom was such a loyal, generous friend,” says Perry, who recalls how Phyllis took her opening act, a young singer named Barbra Strei­sand, under her wing. “Mom bought her clothes,” Perry says. Tom and Dick Smothers, Laugh-In producer George Schlat­ter and Betty White also became close friends.

Phyllis and Betty used to compete for the best table at a little French cafe that they both loved in Brentwood, California. “If the other party got the table, they’d walk past and give each other the finger,” Perry remembers. “They’d crack up and make silly faces at each other.”

Phyllis Diller Had ‘A Complete Life’

Phyllis’ long career would include night clubs, recordings, TV, movies, Broadway and several books. She played classical concert piano (under the pseudo­nym Dame Illya Dillya) in the 1970s and even found later in life success as a paint­er. “She had such a complete life,” says Per­ry. “Creatively, she touched all the bases.”

She lived a rich personal life, too. After a second marriage, Phyllis found lasting love with Robert Hastings, her longtime companion. “He was just the best,” says Perry. “A kind, unbelievable gentleman who would laugh at Mom’s jokes. They adored each other.”

Of course, Phyllis knew heartache, too. She lost Robert in 1996 and outlived three of her children. But even before her passing in 2012 at age 95, she re­mained a beacon of positivity. “She didn’t want to share her negativi­ty with anyone, especially her fam­ily,” says Perry, who confides that he still misses their lunches. “Afterward, we’d go to the card room and play ‘Diller’s Gin,’ a variation on gin rummy,” he recalls. “We’d be laughing so hard you could hear us through the house. Her home was always so full of joy and humor.”