At home with Steve Harvey

Ebony, July, 1998 by Lynn Norment, James Mitchell

Though he makes his living in Hollywood, New York and on the road with his stand-up comedy routine, Steve Harvey is happiest at home in Dallas.

From his two-story mansion in a gated community, a short drive from the famed Galleria shopping mall, he can look out upon his vanishing-edge swimming pool that appears to drop off into the adjacent lake. A well-manicured golf course completes the view.

"Being at home, I'm at my absolute happiest," says the comedian and actor as he relaxes on his expansive patio sipping fruit juice. His wife, Mary, is at his side. His 8-month-old son, Wynton, plays nearby. "Coming home and being with Mary and my kid -- that's when I'm at my absolute happiest."

On this lovely day, Harvey is content. He is cooled-out and cordial, easy-flowing and earthy -- a far cry from the tart, wisecracking stand-up) comic who sends howls of laughter through audiences that pack in to see his "Kings of Comedy" tour. Steve Harvey, the husband and father who loves "quiet solitude," also is quite a contrast to bachelor music teacher Steve Hightower of The Steve Harvey Show, the top-rated show on the WB Network.

For one thing, at-home Steve is not wearing one of his trademark tailored suits, but slacks, silk shirt and sandals. "I don't own one pair of jeans," he says. But he owns at least 250 suits, down from a recent high of 500 to 600.

"I don't smoke, don't drink, don't do dope, don't do cocaine. I do suits... My mother made me a dresser," he explains without apology. "Suits and ties. Go to church. That's what my mother instilled in me ... So when you pay money to see me in the theater or turn on your television, I've got on a suit and tie."

From conservative cuts to brilliant hues, the styles vary, but loose-fitting trousers are a must. And he goes out of his way to find Black tailors and designers. "I don't wear Versace, Armani, Hugo Boss. None of that. I like my pants to hang a certain way. Now you think I'm going to put on some of those tight-ass pants just because Versace or Armani made them? My pants look better under a jacket than a Hugo Boss suit."

During the four years he has hosted Showtime at the Apollo (he tapes up to six shows at a time), Harvey says, "I've never repeated a suit." Consequently, each year he gives away dozens -- to charity, to homeless men, to relatives, friends, ministers. "Yeah, I've laid out some ministers," he says.

Harvey is a great believer in giving Black professionals an opportunity. Consequently, he also employs a Black manager, several Black attorneys, a Black accountant, and he personally selected a Black executive producer, Winifred Hervey, to oversee his television show.

Whether he's on the set in LA, in New York at the Apollo or traveling, Steve takes his barber. "When I don't have my barber around, I wear hats. [As he does on this day.] You won't see me when my hair ain't just right. Plus I'm not the kind of n ---- r that makes women go, `He's so fine; he's so cute.' But I have my act together. Suit, shirt and ties, and my hair freshly cut."

Mary Harvey chuckles softly as her husband talks. Steve says when he met Mary years ago, she sensed he was more comfortable in suits and suggested that he wear them during performances. From that point his career escalated, but so did his personal life. The love and compatibility, are evident with this couple, and their individual interests and talents complement each other. "I have no organizational skills, I'm no decorator and I can't save no money. But Mary can do all of that," Steve says. "Mary kept me from putting gold tips on the gate... She's sensible. She keeps me on track. Mary doesn't like traveling and living out of a suitcase, so I go out and make the money, and bring it home. I don't know how much money we've got; Mary takes care of it. The only check I write is to the barber."

While the couple can't imagine being without each other now, Mary is quick to explain it was not love at first sight when they met in January 1989. Steve was smitten immediately. While in Arlington, Texas, for a comedy show, he wandered into a department store where Mary worked for Fashion Fair Cosmetics. When she and a co-worker went to lunch in the mall, Steve followed. After the ladies spotted him checking them, he introduced himself "I played him like an old mackerel," recalls Mary, an attractive, unpretentious Louisiana native. "I didn't want to be bothered. I was cold. Not ugly, but cold."

And Steve was persistent. Three days later, she finally agreed to go out with him. It was his birthday, January 17. "He had on a satin HBO jacket, a Casio watch and acid-washed jeans with frayed hems," says Mary. Adds Steve: "And I had $58 to my name. No checkbook. No bank account." On the third date, he declared his love and proposed marriage. "I know You don't believe me, but I'll show, you," he said.

When he left town at the end of the week, he called every day from the road. He wrote love notes and poetry. Sent her flowers. He invited her to visit him, but she refused. Two months later, he sent the well-worn pair of shoes he was wearing when they met, with a note that read, "Even though there are trains, planes and buses, I'd still walk a thousand miles for one of your kisses."