It’s the coldest day of the year in New York City, around 10 degrees Fahrenheit, but John Leguizamo doesn’t mind.
The 46-year-old actor, whose third solo show on Broadway, “Ghetto Klown,” begins previews Monday, is just excited to walk around his childhood neighborhood of Jackson Heights, Queens.
After all, it has been 11 years since the fast-talking actor, best known for his movie roles in “Carlito’s Way” and “Summer of Sam,” has returned to the predominantly immigrant community that raised him until the age of 19 and inspired much of his self-reflective work like “Ghetto Klown.”
“I moved to Jackson Heights from Bogotá, Colombia, when I was 3½,” says Leguizamo, who now lives with his wife and two children in the West Village. “I don’t know how much is reality and how much is imagination, but I remember coming from a really bright, sunny place with a lot of white buildings and colorful attractions to this dark and cold area. But, in time, I grew to love it.”
Judging from the quizzical look on his face, it’s apparent that Leguizamo maintains mixed feelings about his old stamping grounds.
“It felt like I was always moving to apartments as a kid,” he says. “We never moved far, five blocks this way or five blocks that way, but it sucked every time. I had to make friends with everyone all over again at each new home. The good part was that I was always meeting new people.”
In jeans, a scarf and a navy blue overcoat, Leguizamo stomps his indoor soccer shoes to keep his feet warm as he stares at the decidedly depressing brick entrance to his family’s first apartment, on Denman St., which he refers to as “the semi-projects.”
“This neighborhood formed me,” he says through teeth that neither Hollywood nor Broadway ever bothered straightening. “It was a transitional neighborhood. People were just trying to make it and get out as fast as they could. But this was where I developed my sense of humor and discovered what I liked and didn’t like.”
And Leguizamo didn’t like getting beaten up. He points to a snow-covered spot on the sidewalk.
“I was 7 when a kid beat me up right there for stealing his bike,” Leguizamo recalls.
“There’s nothing worse than poor and cheap, but that was my dad. He wouldn’t give me a bike unless I relearned Spanish, so I stole this kid’s bike, but he beat me up before I could get away.
“My dad told me that if I retaliated against the kid he would beat me up personally, so I just pretended like I’d won the fight.”
If Leguizamo’s memories can be trusted (he admits he is prone to exaggeration), fighting was a big part of growing up in Jackson Heights in the ’70s.
“We used the word ‘rumble’ a lot back then,” says Leguizamo as he strolls toward the 89th St. park where he used to hang out with friends. “There were a lot of gangs and they were always fighting over honor or something like that. They’d use chains, nunchucks and switchblades, but no guns.”
But Leguizamo, who as an adult is 5-feet-8, wasn’t a fighter — at least not physically.
“I was the nerdy, funny guy that hung out with the kids who got in trouble,” he says. “My father was mad authoritarian and before the rumbles went down, all my friends would get ready and I would go home.
“Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to hang out in the worst way, but I had to get home.”
It was this inability to throw a punch that formed the basis for Leguizamo’s career in comedy.
“My acting career first started on this playground because I had to find a way to stand out,” he says, standing on a bench in a snow-covered park. “I needed to find a way to shine. I would do funny voices and accents. My friends would tell great stories because they lived these crazy lives, but I didn’t have those experiences so I had to be funny.”
(Leguizamo’s not alone. He’s leading a charge of comic stars on Broadway in the coming weeks that includes Kathy Griffin, Dane Cook, Chris Rock, Ben Stiller, Robin Williams and Jim Gaffigan.)
Two milkmen delivering to nearby P.S. 148 recognize Leguizamo, shake his hand and tell him how much they enjoyed him as the evil clown in “Spawn.”
“God, I miss hanging out in this neighborhood,” Leguizamo says. “The people are so honest and genuine. They’ll tell you straight up if you suck, like, ‘What the hell were you doing in that movie?'”
A dog, out for a walk, barks and nips at Leguizamo’s feet.
“See!” he says. “This guy hated me in ‘Super Mario Brothers.'”
Most recently, Leguizamo has employed the comedic sense first developed on the playgrounds of Jackson Heights to create “Ghetto Klown.”
“I’ve got this crazy desire to document things in my life,” he says. “‘Ghetto Klown’ is basically the Cliffs Notes of my childhood in Queens. It’s the journey of an artist. It tells the story of how this all started in me.”
Leguizamo first took portions of his life to the Off-Broadway stage in 1991’s “Mambo Mouth” and “Spic-O-Rama” in 1993, then hit Broadway with “Freak” in 1998 and “Sexaholix … A Love Story” in 2002 and again in 2003.
“I always wanted to make my life count,” says Leguizamo. “I grew up here in New York City, extracted from all my history. I felt like I came from nowhere. I didn’t learn about my culture or history, and Latinos were also missing from television. It felt like we were living but invisible. So I am always trying to claim my place in time and history.”
As if to prove his point, Leguizamo decides he’s hungry for Colombian food. He ducks into La Pequeña Colombia at Roosevelt Ave. and 84th St. and orders the carne mechada, which comes with an avocado salad and a bowl of soup.
“Jackson Heights has changed a lot since I was growing up,” he says. “But the one thing that hasn’t changed, won’t ever change, is the food. Taste that.”
He holds up a spoonful of soup.
“What could be better on a cold day,” says Leguizamo. “This is the best that I can hope for – a one-man show on Broadway and a bowl of soup in my old neighborhood.”
BY Jacob E. Osterhout
DAILY NEWS