“Hey hey, party people!”

Above is one of many phrases and one-liners in the famously funny arsenal of theatre alumnus Max Reiter (’15).  On Nov. 4, the otherwise sunny afternoon was darkened when news broke out that Max had passed away. An Eagle Scout, a loyal friend, and an aspiring stand-up comedian, Max was far more than just another student. To a passersby, Max was an introvert of a high caliber, lost in his own mind. To the Dreyfoos family, Max was someone to root for and someone who never stopped rooting for you.

On Oct. 31, Max and some of his friends decided to experiment with street drugs in an attempt, as explained by his mother,  to “connect with each other on a deeper level.” Max had a severe reaction to the substances, and they overwhelmed his body. He was rushed to the hospital, where medical staff worked tirelessly on him for two days. Max unfortunately succumbed to the toxins and passed away on Nov. 3.

In the weeks following Max’s passing, his friends, family, and teachers have reflected on Max’s talent and uplifting character.

“No one disliked him and no one had anything bad to say about him because he was so genuine. Max wasn’t a mean person. His commentary on life was the humorous side, the lighter side. He not only found the comedy in life, he was seeking to better people through it,” theatre senior Matthew Paszkiet said.  “You have to find the humor in things or you won’t make it. That’s what he taught me. He masked the tragedy of life with his comedy. He was brilliant.”

One Dreyfoos teacher had the pleasure of watching Max grow as an artist and as a person, and saw Max as someone who was uncannily thoughtful.

“I knew Max for about eight years, and he never really changed. He had an essence that never seemed to fade. He was often quiet, but you could  tell his brain was processing really fast. When he did speak, it always brought a smile to your face, or to the room. He had the ability to use words efficiently to achieve his goal of making your day better,”  theatre teacher Brad Barfield said. “He always wanted to make sure that others had a great day. If they were down, he’d give a little quip or a one-liner. He was quirky in such a positive way, in a really interesting way.”

Besides his passion and connection to laughter and comedy, Max’s unique style was one that is hard to come by in the modern comedic scene.  

“The way he did comedy, the model is to tell stories that are raunchy and dirty, but Max, to do these one liners, and to come up with his own stuff and keep it clean is amazing to me,” said Deborah Lewis, Max’s mother.  “He had a really solid knowledge. He really wanted to find himself and struggled with that. He didn’t know so many people really accepted him or his jokes, and we found out in the past few days that he shouldn’t have and I wish I could tell him that now.”

This passion for comedy led Max to make difficult choice. He ultimately decided to scrap the idea of college and instead moved to the Big Apple in August to pursue stand-up. In New York, Max lived in Brooklyn in a small apartment with three friends. He landed a spot in the Improv 101 class at Upright Citizens Brigade (UCB.) He was working at a farmers market. He was writing jokes and making contacts. He was on his way to where he wanted to be. In the wake of his passing, his parents were quick to disseminate the tragic news.

“One of the main reasons we were so quick to post this message [on Facebook about Max’s passing] was in hopes to reach out to people and help others to think twice about experimenting and doing silly things like this. He was with very good friends and no one wanted this to happen. We keep asking people about Max and everyone thinks this is just an isolated incident and that he and his friends were just experimenting with bad things,” said Stuart Reiter, Max’s father.

“I think the thing we want to get across is that parents are telling you to ‘make good choices,’ and it becomes a mantra in your head, and you hear it but it doesn’t quite hit your heart until this kind of gut-wrenching experience happens. It’s a lot more than just saying ‘don’t do drugs.’ ” Ms. Lewis said. “Those NOPE presentations are effective, and they do great work, but now everyone has a face. It’s not just that woman, that mother on the stage, it’s my friend Max.  If people knew Max personally, then they need to take that to heart.”

“We were very proud of him and his accomplishments in his short time. Some people live their full life until 90, some people live their full life until 60, but Max lived his full life,” Mr. Reiter added.

I met Max in the beginning of my junior year after I joined the Hairy Details Improv Troupe. Being one of only two non-theatre majors in the troupe, and having only one friend involved, it was a daunting situation. Max apparently noticed this, and he did something I forever honored him for: he made a genuine effort to be my friend. He went out of his way to open up to this new kid and help him feel included. I’ll always remember one of the last things he said to me in person: “You’re one of the people I’m going to miss the most, Bennett.”  This is the side of Max that people who knew him treasured so dearly. He made you smile. He made you laugh. He made you feel welcome and appreciated.

“If I could give one piece of advice to the Dreyfoos family, it would be that when you care about someone, when someone is a good friend, let them know how much they mean to you. It might be awkward, it might seem weird, but it goes a long way,” Ms. Lewis said.