Robert Markowitz: Criminal Defense Lawyer to Party Clown

This Duke Law graduate quit his cushy job as a defense attorney in his 30s to run away to Mexico, moved back to live with his mother before finding joy & purpose in becoming a professional party clown named Bobo.

Not a career pivot that most would envy.

But that’s what Robert Markowitz - author of “Clown Shoes” & my latest guest on the Clocking Out Podcast - did.

And he has no regrets!

Although it wasn’t easy.

Because you see, Robert was born to immigrant parents in Westchester County.

His grandfather was a baker who worked 12-hour days in walk-in ovens, while his father was a teacher who climbed up thanks to the GI Bill.

As a 3rd generation immigrant, Robert was meant to go even higher.

Which he did, initially: He went to Duke Law School, became a defense attorney and moved to California.

Yet Robert realized that when he went to parties after graduating, he couldn’t talk to a girl for three minutes without mentioning "I just graduated from Duke Law" because:

“I was superficial. I wanted to be important.”

Wow. That really hit me.

Because I’d felt the same way in my 30s.

I’d picked HR because someone told me that I’d be good at it, and I climbed that ladder because I thought it would make me important & give me respect.

But as both Robert and myself found out, importance isn’t the same as fulfillment.

And after 4 years of practicing law, Robert quit.

Moved to Mexico for 2 years (his mother even put out a missing person ad on Mexican TV) before returning at age 37 to live in his mother’s house.

Depressed & lost.

His friends abandoned him, thinking he’d ‘lost it’.

Then one fine day, Robert saw an ad in the New York Times saying: We’ll train you as a party clown. $25/show.

The pay was peanuts but Robert was at rock bottom. And for the first time in years, he finally felt something.

So off he went to buy that $59 kit, showing up at a restaurant called Ground Round as Bobo the Clown.

At the end of his first gig, a 7-year-old kid told him: Bobo, I love you.

Robert later sat in his car, head against the steering wheel, and cried.

He was finally happy.

He had made a humiliating transition from defense attorney → face paint & oversized shoes, but his heart was at peace.

Robert has now been performing for children for 30 years, written a musical play, published a book, and told me that:

“I never get in front of an audience when I'm not happy about it. After 30 years, it's never gotten old."