WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO … COMEDIAN JERRY FARBER: ‘Forgotten but not gone,’ he jokes

As Atlanta evolved from small town to budding metropolis, Jerry Farber served as unofficial toastmaster.

He was a staple of the city’s after-dark scene for decades, building a following in the 1970s at The Lark and Dove in Sandy Springs.

Farber later opened an eponymously named club in Buckhead, where comedians like Jeff Foxworthy and Brett Butler launched their careers —- and he launched his boxers.

Jerry Farber’s has long since shuttered, and the city has grown much too large for one social chairman, but the 70-year-old North Carolina native rolls on.

“Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering —- and it’s all over much too soon,” said Farber, quoting Woody Allen.

He borrows liberally from the masters; stealing lines, some would call it, and Farber confesses.

“The only time he breaks new ground,” cracked local comedy teacher Jeff Justice at a roast for Farber a few years back, “is when he does some of my material.”

Aside from the one-liners —- “business is so bad I went to Home Depot to buy a toaster and they gave me a bank for free” —- Farber mines most of his material from personal experience.

“My show has always been about relationships,” Farber said. “I have plenty of new material, but I’ve stayed true to the same themes.”

Everything is fair game, from his prostate surgery to his three divorces. His latest marriage, to yoga instructor Rocky Rochman, ended five years ago; the couple lived together until recently.

“She’s marrying a younger guy,” said Farber, who’s sworn off future nuptials. The break-up did produce some new gags and, more importantly, his first child.

“That’s where the richest material comes from, my son,” Farber said. So is 8-year-old Joshua a fan? “He thinks I’m stupid.”

Fortunately for Farber, audiences still dig him. Though he rarely performs in nightclubs anymore, Farber tours regularly on the corporate circuit.

“It’s a great way to make a living,” said Farber, who moved to Atlanta in 1960.

He came here to sell women’s clothes. During the week he’d hit the road peddling dresses, his last “real job;” on weekends he’d play piano at local nightspots like Jungle Club in the basement of the Clermont Hotel and Brothers 2 at Colony Square. Eventually he incorporated comedy into his act.

“I don’t think I opened my mouth until I was 35,” Farber said. “I said to myself, ‘this is a lot more fun than just playing the piano’,” he said.

Atlanta’s been his home ever since, save a brief detour to New York in the 1980s, the golden era for stand-up.

“The comedians I followed on stage were far superior to me. They were better looking than me. They were hipper than me,” he said. “I came back to Atlanta and kissed the ground. I’d just as soon be a big fish in a small pond.”

This weekend he’ll perform his annual post-Thanksgiving show at The Punchline, just down the road from the old Lark and Dove.

“It’s like old-home week,” he said. “I’ll have women in wheelchairs and some young people whose parents remember me. I might be a curiosity to them. The others are just happy to see a guy their age still kicking.”

They’ll get what they came for, including his signature character, an avid Georgia Bulldog fan. He’ll end the show as he always does, stripping to Tom Jones’ “You Can Leave Your Hat On” (he leaves his boxers on).

“I’m forgotten but not gone,” Farber said. “However it ends, it’s been a great ride.”

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