Comedian and former Late Show host John Mulrooney dies at 67!

John Mulrooney was the kind of performer other comics quietly feared and deeply respected. Loose, fearless, and brutally funny, he could walk into a room and own it within seconds. That reputation followed him for more than four decades across comedy clubs, television studios, radio stations, and eventually into an entirely different kind of public service. Now, that voice is gone.

Mulrooney died suddenly at his home in Coxsackie, New York, on December 29, 2025. He was 67. The news was first reported by Albany Times Union, which noted that the cause of death was not immediately available. Friends and colleagues say the loss was completely unexpected, making the shock even harder to process.

Born and raised in Brooklyn, Mulrooney came up in an era when comedy was unforgiving and competition was ruthless. The early 1980s New York comedy scene didn’t hand out favors. You survived by being better, faster, and tougher than the person before you. Mulrooney thrived in that environment. He sharpened his craft at legendary clubs like Dangerfield’s and Sheepshead Bay, places where bombing was public and success was earned the hard way. Comics who shared those stages remember him as a force—unpredictable, confident, and capable of leveling a room without breaking a sweat.

That raw edge carried him west. By the mid-to-late 1980s, Mulrooney had become a familiar presence in Hollywood, performing at The Improv and The Laugh Factory as stand-up comedy exploded into mainstream culture. Television followed quickly. In 1987, he stepped into one of the most pressure-heavy roles imaginable: briefly replacing Joan Rivers as host of The Late Show. It was a moment that cemented his status as more than just a club comic. He had the timing, the nerve, and the presence to command late-night television.

What followed was a career that touched nearly every corner of entertainment. Mulrooney appeared on shows like Comic Strip Live, Comedy Tonight, Great Balls of Fire!, An Evening at the Improv, and Andrew Dice Clay and His Gang Live! The Valentine’s Day Massacre. He competed on Star Search and The New Hollywood Squares, guest-starred on sitcoms including Ellen and The Good Life, and hosted television projects such as King of the Mountain on Fox and The Pat Sajak Show. He even created and starred in the Comedy Central sitcom Midtown North, a short-lived but telling example of how often he was willing to take risks.

Yet Mulrooney was never content to stay in one lane. After returning to New York, he reinvented himself again—this time as a dominant radio personality. He hosted The John and Abbey Show on 105.1 “The Buzz,” before becoming a cornerstone of morning radio alongside Bob “The Wolf” Wohlfeld on Wolf and Mulrooney in the Morning on WPYX. His voice became a daily presence for thousands of listeners across the Northeast. Later stops at WPDH and with iHeartRadio only reinforced what audiences already knew: Mulrooney didn’t need a stage to be compelling. He could paint entire scenes with timing and tone alone.

Despite decades in entertainment, he never stopped performing stand-up. Comedy wasn’t a phase or a stepping stone—it was the core. As recently as May 2025, he was still sharing the stage, appearing with Colin Quinn and Aidan O’Kelley at the Craic Comedy Fest in Astoria. Age never dulled his instincts. If anything, experience sharpened them.

Tributes began pouring in almost immediately after news of his death broke. Fellow comedians, radio hosts, and longtime fans all echoed the same sentiment: John Mulrooney was the real deal. In a 2024 episode of The Joe Rogan Experience, Adam Sandler reflected on their early days in comedy with unmistakable admiration.

“I remember Mulrooney would just destroy a room,” Sandler said. “He was so loose and would dominate the room, and then they’d bring you up, and you’re like, ‘Oh, goodness gracious.’”

What made Mulrooney’s life even more unusual was what he chose to do outside entertainment. In 2010, he became a police officer—a decision that surprised many but made perfect sense to those who knew him well. He served for 14 years, until 2024, balancing law enforcement with comedy and radio. He often performed at police and fire department fundraisers across the country, using humor as a way to support first responders and the communities they protect. It wasn’t performative. It was personal.

According to his obituary, Mulrooney was also a recreational pilot, a detail that fit his personality perfectly. He liked freedom, control, and perspective—qualities that defined both his comedy and his life. The obituary described him as a “beloved stand-up comedian, dedicated public servant, and proud patriot whose life was defined by service, laughter, and an unwavering devotion to the people he loved.”

Steven Van Zandt, a close friend, told the Times Union the reality of Mulrooney’s death hadn’t fully settled in. The two had first connected years earlier while launching their own morning radio shows, forming a friendship that lasted decades.

“To talk to somebody less than two weeks ago, and he had mentioned what he was doing for Christmas, and he was looking forward to 2026 because he had a pretty full calendar,” Van Zandt said. “It’s all so unexpected. It’s still sinking in.”

That sense of disbelief is shared widely. Mulrooney wasn’t fading out. He was still working, still planning, still doing what he loved. His calendar was full because his talent never stopped being relevant.

John Mulrooney will be remembered not just for the laughter he generated, but for the loyalty he showed and the lives he touched across wildly different worlds. Comedy clubs, radio studios, television sets, police precincts—few people move so fluidly between them, and fewer still leave respect behind in every place they go.

He is survived by a legacy that can’t be measured in credits alone. It lives in the comics he inspired, the listeners who started their mornings with his voice, the first responders he supported, and the countless strangers who laughed because he walked onstage and told the truth the way only he could.