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BACK ISSUES INTERVIEWS Stand-Up Comedians Jim Norton Robert Kelly Donnell Rawlings Brad Stine Tammy Pescatelli Leighann Lord George Sarris Nick DiPaolo Russ Meneve Shang and more By Tasha A. Harris, NYC Comedy Journalist STAGE TIME The Magazine That Stands Up For Comedy |
Really?
People mocked Al Martin for doing it and now everybody does it. (He leans over into the tape
recorder) Are you getting that? Everybody does it!
Are the bringer shows any different today than when you were doing them?
Back then, I think there was a $5 admission and…you actually got $2 or $3 for everyone
that came to see you.
How did you get past the bringer stage?
That is the toughest question in my class. There is no formula…You have to do something
extra. When I first started, I did songs. I didn’t even do parodies. Sometimes, I would just
do the theme from Mr. Ed. Al would put me up twice in a show and I run back up and do
Gilligan’s Island. Al liked me for that because it was kind of like a novelty.
Then I started doing the bringer shows. I got worse before I got better. You know when you
begin, you have no concept of what you’re doing wrong, so everything feels great and right
and then you learn how the craft works…I did the bringer shows and I wasn’t going to get
spots on the regular show. You don’t do comedy for one or two years and get spots.
Everyone on our shows – most of the people who have passed, have ten or more years
[experience.] I tell so many comics that – I did get a little mad like so many people do:
I deserve spots. I’ve brought so many people. It’s a trade. You bring the people and you
get your time. That’s really it.
So anyway, I produced my own show. I produced The Buddy Flip Variety Show once a month
and I did it for 15 months at New York Comedy Club – at the old club and when he moved
here…I had a lot different friends from downtown, who had crazy acts…I would find crazy
stand ups like Mike Bochetti or Steve Arons because they were colorful and crazy. I would
get my people and have them bring people. I would hustle the people.
(He leans back over into the tape recorder.) Let me tell you one thing that you have to
understand: Nice postcards will bring no one. You have to bring your friends. You have to
make friends and bring friends.
…You open up the paper and you got $20 bucks to go see something and either it’s the
Schwarzenegger movie or “I ain’t ever heard of this.” "I’m going to go to the Schwarzenegger
movie. I’ve heard of that." That’s what audiences do. The audiences like to play safe with
their money and if they don’t know it, they probably won’t go to it, even if the postcard is
shiny and gold and gets their attention. It’s not going to make them leave their homes in
six days to come see you.
Every month for 15 months, I got people. I had shows with 15 people in the audience and
I had shows with 70 people in the audience. Al liked that I tried. He liked that I kept doing
it. He completely hated me as an act – liked me as a person.
But you know what happened at the end 15 months? I was passed in the club. I never
physically auditioned for it. I was passed because for 15 months he watched me make an
effort to produce a show and put some butts in chairs for him. He didn’t see me hanging
around going, “Hey, why don’t you put me up? I’m funny.” Instead of trying to get my
opportunity from him, I made my opportunity.
I went further than that. When he opened this club here, he wanted a video system. I used
to videotape weddings and I had an old camera and deck. Me and another comedian,
Rob Falcone, who was a carpenter, built a box cage and we put the camera in it and for a
little while, I used to make a few bucks for everyone wanted a tape at the bringer shows.
But Al and everyone else who worked at the club got to use it for nothing. Al saw me make
this effort. “Here’s a piece of equipment I don’t use. You can use it.”
In 1994, he had a prom season and I remember that I was able to come and do an entire
prom season for no money. I didn’t get paid. I came here five nights in a row, starting at
1am. At the time, I might have had 15 minutes of material. They put me onstage for 25 or
30 minutes, five times a week where I used to get spots two times a week. Al didn’t mind
because I did it for nothing. I showed up every night at 1am, five nights for six weeks.
I didn’t mind because I wanted to do it. Stuff like that is all extra.
People mocked Al Martin for doing it and now everybody does it. (He leans over into the tape
recorder) Are you getting that? Everybody does it!
Are the bringer shows any different today than when you were doing them?
Back then, I think there was a $5 admission and…you actually got $2 or $3 for everyone
that came to see you.
How did you get past the bringer stage?
That is the toughest question in my class. There is no formula…You have to do something
extra. When I first started, I did songs. I didn’t even do parodies. Sometimes, I would just
do the theme from Mr. Ed. Al would put me up twice in a show and I run back up and do
Gilligan’s Island. Al liked me for that because it was kind of like a novelty.
Then I started doing the bringer shows. I got worse before I got better. You know when you
begin, you have no concept of what you’re doing wrong, so everything feels great and right
and then you learn how the craft works…I did the bringer shows and I wasn’t going to get
spots on the regular show. You don’t do comedy for one or two years and get spots.
Everyone on our shows – most of the people who have passed, have ten or more years
[experience.] I tell so many comics that – I did get a little mad like so many people do:
I deserve spots. I’ve brought so many people. It’s a trade. You bring the people and you
get your time. That’s really it.
So anyway, I produced my own show. I produced The Buddy Flip Variety Show once a month
and I did it for 15 months at New York Comedy Club – at the old club and when he moved
here…I had a lot different friends from downtown, who had crazy acts…I would find crazy
stand ups like Mike Bochetti or Steve Arons because they were colorful and crazy. I would
get my people and have them bring people. I would hustle the people.
(He leans back over into the tape recorder.) Let me tell you one thing that you have to
understand: Nice postcards will bring no one. You have to bring your friends. You have to
make friends and bring friends.
…You open up the paper and you got $20 bucks to go see something and either it’s the
Schwarzenegger movie or “I ain’t ever heard of this.” "I’m going to go to the Schwarzenegger
movie. I’ve heard of that." That’s what audiences do. The audiences like to play safe with
their money and if they don’t know it, they probably won’t go to it, even if the postcard is
shiny and gold and gets their attention. It’s not going to make them leave their homes in
six days to come see you.
Every month for 15 months, I got people. I had shows with 15 people in the audience and
I had shows with 70 people in the audience. Al liked that I tried. He liked that I kept doing
it. He completely hated me as an act – liked me as a person.
But you know what happened at the end 15 months? I was passed in the club. I never
physically auditioned for it. I was passed because for 15 months he watched me make an
effort to produce a show and put some butts in chairs for him. He didn’t see me hanging
around going, “Hey, why don’t you put me up? I’m funny.” Instead of trying to get my
opportunity from him, I made my opportunity.
I went further than that. When he opened this club here, he wanted a video system. I used
to videotape weddings and I had an old camera and deck. Me and another comedian,
Rob Falcone, who was a carpenter, built a box cage and we put the camera in it and for a
little while, I used to make a few bucks for everyone wanted a tape at the bringer shows.
But Al and everyone else who worked at the club got to use it for nothing. Al saw me make
this effort. “Here’s a piece of equipment I don’t use. You can use it.”
In 1994, he had a prom season and I remember that I was able to come and do an entire
prom season for no money. I didn’t get paid. I came here five nights in a row, starting at
1am. At the time, I might have had 15 minutes of material. They put me onstage for 25 or
30 minutes, five times a week where I used to get spots two times a week. Al didn’t mind
because I did it for nothing. I showed up every night at 1am, five nights for six weeks.
I didn’t mind because I wanted to do it. Stuff like that is all extra.
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