“CONTROL LEFT THE ROOM — AND NEVER CAME BACK.” The second Tim Conway drifted into a sketch, professionalism quietly packed its bags. He didn’t shout. He didn’t rush. He simply stood there, delivering lines so gently they felt harmless — right up until the entire room imploded. From the dentist routine to that infamous elephant story that nearly brought live television to its knees, his calm, unbothered delivery worked like a slow fuse. Discipline vanished. Faces flushed. Breathing became optional. Harvey Korman fought harder than anyone to survive it. Shoulders shaking. Eyes watering. Air gone. He tried to regain control and failed in the most spectacular way possible, dissolving into gasping laughter that turned him into the punchline alongside the audience and half the cast. Tim, of course, never broke. He just kept going — softly, patiently — like none of this was his fault. People still say those moments weren’t just comedy, they were accidents of joy — lightning caught on camera. The kind of laughter that shuts the world down, makes time irrelevant, and reminds you what it feels like to lose control in the best way. Decades later, it still hits just as hard, proving real comedy doesn’t age… it just keeps finding new people to break.

Tim Conway, who passed away yesterday at the age of 85, once felt everywhere. Between his long-running role on The Carol Burnett Show, his string of beloved films alongside Don Knotts, and countless guest appearances across television, Conway became one of the most familiar comedic faces of the 1960s, ’70s, and ’80s. More than that, he was remarkably consistent—a true professional who could coax laughter from any room with his gentle deadpan delivery and total devotion to absurdity. He was the rare comedian who appealed equally to kids and adults, and his loss is deeply felt.

While his career spanned decades, Conway’s most cherished work came from his 11-year run on The Carol Burnett Show, which continued to reach new audiences through syndication well into the 1990s. Long before Saturday Night Live reshaped sketch comedy with a countercultural edge, Carol Burnett hosted the most popular sketch show on television—and Conway was a vital part of its heart, alongside Harvey Korman and Vicki Lawrence.

Thankfully, many of the show’s greatest moments are still available today via the official Carol Burnett Show YouTube channel. What follows is a look back at some of Conway’s most memorable sketches—starting with one of his most famous collaborations with Korman.

“The Dentist”

In this classic sketch, Conway plays an anxious dentist on his very first day, desperately trying to convince his patient (Korman) not to go through with the appointment. His character is unfailingly polite and earnest—but hopelessly unqualified. Conway’s gentle sincerity paired with escalating incompetence makes this one of his most iconic performances.

“Sleep No More My Lady”

A reminder that Conway was a master of physical comedy, this sketch showcases his impeccable timing and control. Attempting to quietly make breakfast, he instead creates maximum chaos, turning small movements into comedic disasters.

“Vacuum Salesman”

Here, Conway plays a seemingly clueless door-to-door salesman who somehow manages to outmaneuver Vicki Lawrence’s character—convincing her to do all the work while he walks away with the profit. It’s a perfect example of his ability to play “hapless” while quietly being in total control.

“Tough Truckers”

Conway and Korman prove once again why they were a legendary duo, portraying two divorced men trying—and failing—to project toughness and bravado. The sketch effortlessly swings between macho posturing and complete emotional collapse.

“Airline Security”

In this sketch, Conway’s painfully slow and confused airport security guard drives Korman’s character to near insanity. His understated delivery shines, especially in running gags like stamping a ticket one letter at a time for “Los Angeles.” It’s deadpan comedy at its finest.

“Mrs. Wiggins: The Vacation”

Although the sketch bears Carol Burnett’s character’s name, Conway steals every scene as her Romanian boss, Mr. Tudball. In this installment, he attempts to teach blackjack ahead of a Las Vegas trip—with predictably disastrous results.

“The Interrogator”

Conway portrays a wildly ineffective Nazi interrogator who causes more damage to the room than to the prisoner. Co-star Lyle Waggoner famously breaks character mid-sketch—something that happened often on The Carol Burnett Show. Conway’s ability to stay committed while everyone else loses it only heightens the comedy.

“The Oldest Man: The Captain”

Perhaps Conway’s most famous character, The Oldest Man perfectly captures what made him special. The role is broad and absurd, full of exaggerated physical gags—but Conway plays it with such internal logic and subtlety that the character feels oddly real. That may have been his greatest gift: making the ridiculous feel natural.

Tim Conway didn’t rely on punchlines or volume. He trusted patience, precision, and sincerity—even when the situation was utterly absurd. And that quiet brilliance is exactly why his comedy has endured.

He may be gone, but the laughter he created still feels very much alive.