Stand-up comedy lost one of its most beloved and gifted talents with the March 30 passing of Mitch Hedberg. His brilliant spin-art mind, like Henny Youngman multiplied by Salvador Dali but wholly original, made Hedberg a hit with Austin audiences and comics, who treated the St. Paul, Minn., native like one of their own. Unfortunately, his biggest headlines locally were for his May 2003 arrest here for felony possession of heroin, after which he took a six-month break from performing. Hedberg’s poorly kept penchant for controlled substances, which led to his hospitalization for a grisly personal health complication, prompted conjecture that the 37-year-old’s death was drug-related. But his mother, Mary Hedberg, told the Minneapolis Star Tribune that her son was born with a heart defect and had chronic heart palpitations. If, as e.e. cummings wrote, “The most wasted of all days is one without laughter,” this extremely shy Minnesotan’s days were anything but wasted. Offstage, he was strikingly cordial and possessed a distinctly Midwestern lack of ego which belied his professional achievements and his studiousness and reverence for his chosen art form, his material, and fellow comics. He is survived by his wife, Lynn Shawcroft, parents Arne and Mary Hedberg, and sisters Angie Anderson and Wendy Brown. The Chronicle extends its condolences to Hedberg’s family, friends, and vast legion of fans.
This article appears in April 15 • 2005.