BY CINDY PEARLMAN
NEW YORK--He refused to sell the Schwinn. For years it sat in Paul Reubens' basement, a dusty reminder of the career he had lost.
He also kept the too-small gray suit and red shoes long after everyone proclaimed Pee-wee Herman dead.
After Reubens was convicted of indecent exposure, CBS pulled his ``Pee-wee's Playhouse'' series off the air. Stores yanked Pee-wee toys off the shelves. He was the punch line in countless bad jokes.
``Believe me, there were days when I wanted to get rid of everything that had to do with show business,'' Reubens says. ``I thought of quitting forever.''
But during the bad years, he would look at the memorabilia--worth a mint to collectors. He would pop in a Pee-wee tape and see the red bike. They provided inspiration. They made him smile--and Reubens' grin is wide now.
``Of course, I would have to get past security to get to the bike,'' he jokes. ``You know, it's like Fort Knox in my basement. Armed guards on duty 24 hours, seven days a week.
``Better safe than sorry,'' he says in his trademark nasal whine.
These days he says he has something to be sorry about other than his arrest at a Florida XXX theater in 1991.
``I feel cheap and dirty because I'm bringing back the fart joke,'' says Reubens of his role in ``Mystery Men,'' opening Friday.
Reubens plays a second-rate superhero named the Spleen. ``I'm a lot of hot air in this movie,'' he says with a small smile. ``All those noises. It's a little embarrassing.''
So is talking about himself.
In a voice that is low and soft, almost childlike, he explains that this is his first interview as himself, not as Pee-wee Herman.
Before, Reubens would only meet journalists in character, peppering his sound bites with trademark lines such as ``I know you are but what am I?''
``I didn't do press as me. This is the first interview I've done in a long, long time, and the first one I've done as myself ever,'' he says.
But he admits it's a little scary for him. ``It's not easy, in another sense, to be Paul Reubens,'' he says. ``I guess it's always easier to hide behind a character.''
He's not interested in hiding now. After what he calls ``my sabbatical,'' Reubens is in the middle of a full-fledged career comeback. Only he hates that term.
``I realize it's perceived as a comeback for me, and that's great,'' he says. ``But I don't view it as a comeback. I don't actually think about positioning that much.''
Besides ``Mystery Men,'' which teams him with Ben Stiller, Janeane Garofalo and Hank Azaria, Reubens just finished a Dwight Yoakam-directed Western, ``South of Heaven, West of Hell.'' He's also developing a comedy called ``Meet the Murkles,'' which Reubens describes as his version of ``You Can't Take It With You.''
Most exciting is that he's resurrecting Pee-wee Herman, the character that earned him 25 Emmys--22 for the show and three for his acting.
Not wanting to give too many details, he says, ``It's a semi-autobiographical movie and it's about fame in our times. Pee-wee becomes famous and turns into a monster. He's extremely nasty to other people.''
Can you blame him?
He was nice, not nasty, the day he was arrested. He explained to the officers that he was Paul Reubens, and asked if he could do a benefit for kids in exchange for having the charges quietly dropped. Please, he asked.
``As a kid I wasn't scared when I got into hot water. I knew I could talk my way out of it.''
It wasn't going to work that day.
But when he came up $40 short of the $219 he needed for bail, some Pee-wee-loving cops took up a collection. The officers drew a four-day suspension for their kindness.
When a local reporter recognized his name, the national press descended. He denied exposing himself or engaging in improper activities and paid a $50 fine. But the damage was done.
``Paul Reubens' life was destroyed by his fame and the media. He was a lamb led to the slaughter. And what kills me is that he's the nicest of men,'' says Garofalo, a longtime friend.
``Where is the victim in this crime? He was crucified for going to a porno film? Who cares? It's so crazy to condemn anyone for living their private life,'' she says.
Reubens retreated to small roles, such as the Penguin's father in ``Batman Returns'' and a secretary on ``Murphy Brown.''
``Who wouldn't want to escape?'' says Natasha Lyonne (``American Pie''), who played young Opal on ``Pee-wee's Playhouse.'' ``The real shame is that kids lost a man who created the best, most creative show of all time for children. ... He's so massively talented.''
She shakes her head and says, ``The shame of it all is that we missed so many creative years with him. In fact, I ran into him in New York City a few weeks ago and he picked me up and spun me around, screaming, `Opal O!' He told me, `You're so tall,' and then he said, `Man, I must be old.' I was thinking, `You don't realize how long, Paul, you've been gone. I grew up.' ''
He never grew bitter--just reflective. ``Fame is such a weird, strange thing. I always thought it would be interesting to have a little seminar or something,'' Reubens says. ``Everyone who is just starting to get famous would have to attend. It would be mandatory.''
Reubens was the funny kid, first in Peekskill, N.Y., and then in Sarasota, Fla., where his parents moved to run a lamp store when he was in sixth grade.
``At school, I was a strange child, a little oddball. I was really serious and really funny at the same time,'' he says. ``I was always performing.''
He went pro in the '70s on ``The Gong Show.'' As the story goes, Reubens was trying to win worst act, but wound up with the best act award. A stint with the famed Groundlings comedy troupe led to a role in ``The Blues Brothers.''
In 1979, Reubens created Pee-wee Herman ``to illustrate to kids that it's OK to be different. Not good. Not bad. But all right.''
By 1985, the movie ``Pee-wee's Big Adventure''--a $6 million film about a man losing his beloved bike--grossed $45 million. The TV series ``Pee-wee's Playhouse'' debuted the next year to Emmys and merchandising galore.
But Reubens was conflicted about Pee-wee, sometimes hating his alter ego. ``There were often times I thought I should just change my name legally to Pee-wee Herman and then have the marquees read `Pee-wee Herman--as himself.' ''
By late 1991, he was able to laugh at being monologue fodder. Reubens presented on the MTV video music awards, opening with a quick, ``Heard any good jokes lately?'' The crowd roared.
But he mostly stayed out of the spotlight, building up his ``ET'' memorabilia collection, gardening, and spending time with friends Fran Lebowitz and Debi Mazar.
He slips into the last row of a Manhattan screening room just as the opening credits for ``Mystery Men'' roll. There's polite applause for Garofalo, bigger applause for Ben Stiller. But when the name Paul Reubens flashes on the screen, a crowd of 500 goes nuts.
He is befuddled. He is confused. He is happy. And he can't believe that there are second acts. ``To be honest with you, I wasn't really sure why they were cheering,'' he says the next day.
Maybe because people missed him? He smiles hopefully. He gropes for a magic word, finding one too big for the ``Playhouse'' crowd.
``When I heard those cheers, I felt rejuvenated,'' he says with a tiny smile.