Adam Gropman, Dough Hecox, Brian McKim, Chris Rich, Traci Skene, occupying power table at NYC’s Laugh Factory. PHOTO CREDIT: Adam’s sister
We were crawling along in late-stage, rush-hour traffic through Weehawkin, NJ (that scramble of concrete and asphalt and civilization that one oozes through just before rounding the bend to enter the Lincoln Tunnel), when we decided take a spin around the radio dial. We stopped spinning when we heard the immediately identifiable voice of NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg:
“We have done and will continue to do everything we can to protect this city… We will spare no resource, we will spare no expense.”
That kind of talk is never good. We learned that there had been a “specific and credible threat” against the New York City transit system and that the method of terror had been determined to be a bomb.
Excellent timing!
We were headed to the Port Authority Bus Terminal. The PABT is a mere 200 or so steps from the entrance to the Laugh Factory. Their comedy catacombs contained the room where our SHECKYmagazine Show would be held. (“Maximum occupancy: 89,” read the sign just outside the venue alloted to us.)
The PABT is, no doubt, on a DHS short list of so-called “soft targets,” so were just a little edgy. But it provided a convenient place to park our car for our foray into the Big Apple. And the terrorist threat provided us with a convenient excuse in case a crowd failed to materialize for our show. Which it did. Failed, that is.
Sum total of people who unwittingly bought tickets to the SHECKYmagazine Show. NOTE: Larry Miller, Jerry Seinfeld and Jamie Masada are not actually present. NOTE, TOO: These are the real people. They were later given the option of seeing the Emerging Comics Showcase, which they eagerly accepted. We begged one of them to send us the identities of all in their party. We await that email.
We had heard rumblings earlier in the week that ticket sales for many Festival events were… disappointing. As our day arrived, we heard that many of the previous evening’s shows had been cancelled. In a curious way, it becalmed us. We had also received an email from Fest organizers earlier in the day that stated that all or nearly all the Fest’s program that evening was to have free admission. That kind of talk is never good.
SHECKYmagazine columnist Adam Gropman onstage in the empty room, faking a performance for SHECKYmagazine’s camera
We commandeered a corner booth in the spacious Factory lobby/holding tank and awaited the arrival of Chris Rich, Joe Starr, Doug Hecox, Adam Gropman and, eventually, Carole Montgomery (whom Skene mischievously scolded as being “ten minutes late for a show that never happened!”) Skene conferred with Factory personnel at 10 minutes ’til showtime and “called the show,” after also receiving input from the performers and meeting the prospective audience members!
We thanked the four hearty fans. (To be honest, they didn’t purchase tickets specifically for The SHECKYmagazine Show, but had merely purchased tickets for “the 8 o’clock show.” They weren’t so much fans of the magazine as they were fans of our show’s early start time!) The Male Half dialed up Louis Ramey and told him, “stay home and thanks anyway.” Ramey was very understanding.
All that remained was to order a round or two of drinks and try our best to create a Fest vibe and make the best of our trip. We ran into Andrew Clay, a Kiwi comic in town for the Fest. We last encountered Andrew at the Just For Laughs Fest in 2000. We also ran into Brett Alan. It had been eight years since we worked with him– he was the house emcee at the legendary Westward Ho comedy club in Grand Forks, ND, at the time. (Our week with him was the next to last week of his 13-month “comedy boot camp.” He moved to NYC three years ago.) Philly comics Dena Blizzard and Coleman Green stopped by the table. They were participating in the Emerging Comics Contest upstairs.
Considering the grim nature of the proceedings (bomb threats, cancelled shows, etc.) everyone seemed to have a swell time. But it’s always disappointing to get geared up for a slot at a Festival and then have the comedy rug pulled out from under you. And in such an excruciatingly slow fashion. We once again thank all the people who spent their hard-earned time and money to converge on NYC for this event.