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The Right Reverend Kyle Hatch wasn't always a preachin' man. Oh no...far from it. Born in 1945 in Waxahachie, Texas, to Jim and Flo Snipe, he eventually took on the name, Marty Farnhall, and followed his starry-eyed dreams of becoming a stand-up comedian, in the vein of his idol, Lenny Bruce. So, at the age of 16, he moved out west to Hollywood, California, seeking to make his mark on the world, looking for all the fame, riches, and notoriety he could get his hands on. He yearned for the glamorous life (good or bad) that he'd read so much about, seen on television all his life, yearned for as many heathens do.
"I was a butthole," Rev. Hatch later said about his youthful exuberiance.
But once in Hollywood, things weren't quite so easy for our dear Reverend. No, they weren't. And sometimes the dark days are the ones that let one see the light. Hallelujah!
He floundered around for the next few years--holding odd jobs as a busboy, a ticket taker at a porn movie theater on Sunset Boulevard, and, for a little under two weeks, the manager of a fish-n-chips joint in Venice--before falling in with fellow comedian, Sam Kennison, and learning a few tricks of the trade. Soon, under Sam's wing, his act was polished enough for the spotlight of the stage, and he was appearing at comedy clubs all across the country and well up into Canada. (His caricature, by the way, still graces The Comedy Store in Los Angeles.) Sam took a liking to this fame-hungry young man and, with the late funny man's help, things were looking up.... Until the lure of cocaine and alcohol finally took hold, and it was all downhill from there. Sam, in many ways, wasn't the best of influences. "It was like looking over the lip of a toilet...and knowing you're just about to fall in," Rev. Hatch was later quoted as saying. The tip of a downhill slope, to say the least.
It wasn't long before our Reverend, still going by the name Marty Farnhall, found it hard to make it to gigs on time--always out looking for a score, settling on cheap wine when he couldn't find the coke--and his girlfriend, Cherise Charlay, left him soon afterwards and changed her name to Mandy. He was devastated and dejected, to say the least, and he soon afterwards lost his apartment in West Hollywood, pissing off many of the comedy club owners who'd been so supportive of him up until then.
Sleeping on River Phoenix's couch, one of the last true friends who refused to abandon him, Farnhall continued snorting the cola and shooting the horse. Most everyone had written him off as a bad seed. He'd stolen money from those he loved, taken merchandise, clothing, and anything else he could get his Satan-possessed hands on, trying to support his growing drug and alcohol habit. It was during this dark period, laying on the dirty sheets of a downtown flophouse he was sharing with a Mexican guy named Ramon Quattro, that the good Lord came calling on him.
"Get up, young man," the Lord commanded. "I've got a job for you. Your payment will be your soul, returned."
So, with nothing better going for him, he got up, got up off that dirty, semen-stained bed, and was bestowed a new name and calling. He was given the name, Kyle Hatch, and the church, The Church of the Everyday Man, and a new Reverend was sent out into the streets to find the most troubled, wretched, despairing people he could...and turn their eyes back to their mothers' wombs, back up to the Holy Land of God Almighty. Hallelujay, everybody!
"Preach and preach and preach some more," the Lord said. "Until you can't speak or see or eat."
And now he's here to help you, too! He wants to talk to you.... He wants to deliver you sermons with a razor-sharp bible in hand and the tongue to use it. He's a man who cares. But he doesn't care if you're a drug-addict, a drunk, a prostitute, or a thief. All our welcome in The Church of the Everyday Man.
"Life's hard enough," Rev. Hatch once said. "And who needs some joker telling you you're a sinner all the time? You're not a sinner--you're a winner who hasn't won in a while, that's all. Hallelujah!"
"...The worse off you are, the more I love you...."
Below is a picture of the Rev. Kyle Hatch during one of his two performances as Tony Clifton. Rev. Hatch/Marty Farnhall was a dear friend of the late comedian Andy Kaufman, until a misunderstanding over $13 led to their never speaking to one another again. 
The World-Famous Ritter Midgets, on tour in Africa, back in the '30's...they were lovingly managed by Rev. Hatch's great-uncle, Rev. Sammy Long. Rev. Long suffered a devastating mental breakdown upon learning of the midget troupe's collective death in a bus accident in India, three short months after this photo was taken. 
Here's the picture of the boat Rev. Hatch has his dreams wrapped around. He carries this picture in his wallet wherever he goes. He's long had a vision of preaching on water ... sort of like Jesus did. "...But I want a boat," Hatch says |
