Early on in his new memoir, Jaleel White informs his readers that he also wants you to see the book as a proposal for a TV show. It’s been about 35 years since White first put on a pair of high-waters overly reliant on suspenders, and entered into sitcom history as Steve Urkel, the antihero of beloved sitcom Family Matters. But in Growing Up Urkel (Simon & Schuster), White, 47, is less interested in outlandish plots à la the TGIF cornerstone and more interested in what he learned in the years he spent balancing child stardom with a relatively normal life.
White spoke to Vanity Fair about how Steve Urkel—and his cool alter ego, Stefan Urquelle—captured a generation and how his parents kept him grounded throughout it all. “My mom was a hover mom,” he explained. “That’s how I was protected in that particular way. Her instinct was always to just keep me in a child’s place and keep me on path to going to college.”
Though the show went off the air in 1998, White has been working as an actor ever since. Still, one of the jumping-off points for his essays on various aspects of his years in the business is the sense that he didn’t navigate the transition to adulthood as well as he might have hoped. In the book he talks about the role he didn’t get, opposite Claire Danes, because he wasn’t edgy enough, and he lays out his complicated relationship with Bill Cosby. For years, White labored to make a cartoon based on the Brown Hornet, a side character in Cosby’s Fat Albert universe, but was never able to make it happen, for reasons he elaborates here.
Vanity Fair: I’ve been rewatching the early seasons of Family Matters, and you were such an incredible physical comedian. How did you get so good at that so young?
Jaleel White: For one, in order to be a good physical comedian, you’re going to have to be rather coordinated. So, lucky in that I’m more on the coordinated side. But you also have to have good teachers. Rich Correll, who was our primary director at that time, had a love for physical comedy, and he saw that I could do it right off the bat. He taught me how to hit doors with my foot and snap my head back at the same time so I could make the sound. Then, nobody realizes that it was coming from my foot and not my head. I was a student of TV before I even started doing the show, so I was aware of characters like Jack Tripper and obviously anything that Jerry Lewis had done. Incorporating that into the character was encouraged by the writing staff, it was taught by our directors, and it just happened to be in my DNA.
That style is totally gone now. It started with Funniest Home Videos stuff, and then it evolved to what we can see on social media. Now fails—and I mean real fails, hard fails—are so commonplace for you now to see in social media and, how can you expect performers to duplicate that with that level of realism? Mainstream television has gone completely away from family television or broad comedy, as they call it, so there’s nobody of any merit who would do that to further their career.
The nerdy Black guy has been a huge part of Black culture forever, but Urkel was the first time that portrayal made it over to the mainstream. Why do you think he resonated so much?
Well, first of all, you’re definitely circling what I’m going to say. Black offerings on television for too long have been treated monolithic, as if there’s really only one authentic black story to tell. By pure accident—and by TV development failure—Steve Urkel was born, and I always considered that character an unexpected bridge between a predominantly white writer’s room and an all-Black cast.
If you really look at it, that’s exactly what he served as. Steve loved cheese and polka and the accordion. He could ramble off any number of facts and had a vast treasure trove of knowledge of the random kind. For a mostly white writing staff, it was a dream come true to be able to write towards that. I found a way to just make it soulful and sell it. At its core, it was Steve’s kindness and his self-assuredness that actually brought comfort to a lot of people who were feeling awkward growing up in the nineties as well.
Have you ever thought about doing a reboot? What would have to happen to make it seem worthwhile to you?
For me, it always starts with the audience experience. That’s what it’s always been for me. They say “happy wife, happy life.” I’m like, well, happy audience, happy performer. With an overt lack of concern for the predictable audience reaction in favor of a cash grab, it never made any sense to me. I couldn’t understand it. To be clear, I was never, ever offered a reboot. I was simply offered a contract by one of our top producers that said, “Hey, I’ll give you half what you made last time. Sign on the dotted line and we’re going to go create the show.” Really? What’s the show? “Oh, you and Laura get married and you have a kid that’s just like you.” And I’m like, I’ve seen that on Twitter a hundred times over, that doesn’t allow for the conflict necessary to create a fun sitcom.
That’s why I really speak up for Michelle Thomas [the actor who played Myra Monkhouse died in 1998 of cancer] because if she were alive, maybe I would’ve given it a shot. Michelle, Kellie Williams [who played Laura on the show] and I were a trio. But you still have the issue of the outdated surrealism and shark-jumping that we did that just wouldn’t be tolerated today. I actually think there’s a way to do it, but in a more grounded show, which would be inspired by the book that I wrote.
Steve’s cool alter ego, Stefan Urquelle, has had such an internet afterlife, and I think you capture why in the book: “It played to the human psyche—that innate desire to become your absolute fantasy version of yourself.” Yet you said that you weren’t initially interested in the Stefon storyline when it was first presented.
I never imagined myself being capable of being that cool and that being appealing to anyone. Don’t forget I was a teenage boy going through my own awkwardness in real life— being that cool felt like a put-on to me. When David Duclon asked me, what do you think of the character after the first table read? I was like, I don’t get it. He just knowingly patted me on the back and was like, people need to see this side of you, Jay. I think they’re going to like it.
I always trusted David. He was my captain. He was my lead writer for eight years, like a father figure. Part of the show that I envision would show the relationship between him and me, and it would be a heartwarming one, to be quite honest. He believed in me more than I believed in myself. During the first Stefan episode, I was just a player taking a coach’s orders. When I hit that door—that scream, I can still hear it to this day. I was in shock. I’m like, they’re really going for this. I’m always about pleasing the audience first. I know how to milk an audience!
Did Stefan help you transition out of being seen as Steve Urkel when it came to the rest of your career?
Help? Oh, Stefan saved my life. Until this day, seriously, especially with Black women of any age, of any age, when they see me in the streets, I am Stefan and I hear that far more than I hear Steve, especially from a Black woman. It was a relief, you know, “Oh, thank God that boy ain’t actually like this.” The idea that this guy, walking around in a white suit, has got someone following him with a soundtrack around the room. I thought that was boring, but apparently it wasn’t. And I’m glad I was wrong.
You mention that you really disagree with that reputation for being “difficult,” but that you also had a moment in your 20s where you looked back on yourself as a teenager and realized that you were a bit entitled. Why did you decide to tell that story through the conversation you had with your parents about it?
So, I’m not going to play into that narrative that Jo Marie Payton tried to paint that I was difficult. I’m not playing that crap. [Payton had alleged that she and White nearly got into an altercation stemming from a disagreement on set.] I’m sure when you look back in your time when you were in middle school, I’m sure you gave your parents some hard times over different things. So I prefer it be framed that way. It’s just for me, my middle school experience was heightened. My middle school awkwardness was heightened by this fame. So that moment, that Thanksgiving dinner for me that you’re referring to in the book, was a real moment of self-reflection where I had no problems being vulnerable and letting people know. There were times when I look back on it and it was, like any kid, just getting too much too soon. You understand what I’m saying? Or all at once. But I was never unkind to coworkers, and I’ve never ever been unkind to fans.
We’re having a moment—through documentaries, podcasts, and other books— where we’re rethinking what child stardom does to a person. It seems like you had one of the better experiences.
That’s actually why I want to make a show inspired by the book, because there were some pillars in place for my childhood that need to be shared with people. And I think a lot of people would enjoy it. It would be wildly entertaining, but really informative. My parents always put me first, and their instincts were very simple. Matter of fact, maybe too simple. My mom just wanted me to get to college, and then she wanted Warner Brothers to pay for that, and she was more obsessed with keeping me in a child’s place than she was making me the biggest star in the world. So because of that, I’m on that show. Our dishwasher breaks down at home, and my mom intentionally did not call a repairman and was like, you can wash the dishes by hand. That’s wild that it’s great parenting, but it’s not what you expected at all
Another fascinating part of the book are your interactions with Hollywood executive players—talking to Les Moonves, meeting Bob Iger. With the benefit of hindsight, what do you wish you’d known back then?
I wish I had known that your interactions with them would be resented by others who were able to observe it. I’d ride my bike down to the Warner Brothers executive office and just pop into Leslie’s office, Leslie had an open door policy. When you see what he ultimately became and what he was and what he meant to television, there were certain people that probably thought that to be inappropriate or who does he think he is? So when those men weren’t there by my side anymore, I found myself facing a lot of junior executives who were not nearly as welcoming.
“Two-faced” isn’t the right word for it, but it seems like people in the industry are able to modulate their emotions and their kindness based on how important you are to them. That’s really hard for an honest or transparent person to deal with.
It really is, it’s a very unique dynamic to be a part of.
I did a short-lived show called Me, Myself & I on CBS years later, starring Bobby Moynihan. And I remember having a chat with Dan Kopelman, our showrunner, who was the key writer on Malcolm in the Middle. He was talking about playing basketball with Frankie Muniz, and he was like, “Oh, you’re a better basketball player than Frankie. I used to play ball with Frankie too on the set, and I’d let him beat me.”
And I’m like, “Why would you go out of your way to let Frankie Muniz beat you?” He was like, “I’m not going to beat my boss.” When Dan even said that to me, I thought, Dude, people wonder why kids in this business turn out messed up? Trust me, Frankie didn’t see you recognizing him as his boss on the other side of the basketball game. I’m sure he saw Dan as a writer on the show and an important writer on the show maybe, but in a game of basketball, I’m sure he didn’t see it as “Hey, this guy better calm down, or I’ll get him fired.” You know what I’m saying? There’s no way in the world Frankie’s thinking was on that level as a teenage boy.
That reminds me of the basketball game with R. Kelly you write about—you can’t even make it through a basketball game with him because he’s dishonest and weird. Your reaction was “Oh, okay, I don’t really like this guy,” but you felt conflicted about his rejection. A similar thing happens with Bill Cosby, and you point out that you didn’t learn about their real transgressions till later, and that’s when you realize, “Rejection is God’s protection.”
Yeah. Man, I tell people all the time: If you actually look back on your life, if you always just got everything you wanted, just think about how screwed up your life would be! If you had actually ended up with that person that you thought was the perfect boyfriend for you. If you had actually gotten the job opportunity that you thought you wanted. I wanted to be in The Mod Squad so bad! Oh my gosh, I just had to be in that movie. This was the breakout role if I got it.
And now, we all know that movie did not do well at the box office!
It wasn’t until my daughter was born that I just kind of calmed down and was like, yo, I’m going to just focus on what the Lord is making obvious to me. When people talk about regret, I wish I’d had the courage to just call up Mr. C—and here I am at 40 whatever years old and still calling him Mr. C! I wish I had had the courage to call [Cosby] up and say, “Hey, man, I can’t go with that agent you recommended, because I saw some character issues that just don’t align with me. But thank you so much for making the call.” But that’s asking a lot of a 15-year-old.
When the really horrifying stories come out of Hollywood, I’m struck by how many of them are full of people overlooking little things until they become big things! That is a hard culture to change.
One hundred percent. And I wanted to make sure that I wrote the book from a place of self-reflection, so I wasn’t going to be a hypocrite. I really wanted the Brown Hornet to be a thing. So I played along to get along, but when I look back on it, I can’t ignore what my instinct was. Something ain’t right about this agency. Something ain’t right about these people. And I had to learn the hard way, like most people.
Your daughter is about the age you were when you were first cast on Family Matters. Has she watched the show? What about your wife?
Well, my wife and her entire family, they grew up watching me organically. So that’s old news. That’s an early chuckle in our relationship. But as for my daughter, my mom gave her the full indoctrination when she was age four—against my will, to be quite honest. So she slept with a Steve Urkel doll for all of a couple of weeks, and then I quickly just became dad again.
I remember when people would ask me to take pictures when she was four and particularly five, she would come up to me and then just spontaneously have to tug on my shoulder, “Daddy, I have to ask you something! Daddy, Daddy.” I was like, “Well, what? What’s wrong?” And then she would have nothing to ask me. I realized she was trying to make sure that when these people do this, that she can still get my attention. But beyond that, I really am just dad.
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