We were on a mini-vacation the past couple days.  In Wildwood, NJ.  So, we set out Tuesday morning on our bicycles to find the statue.  We found it.  The concrete block at the base is allegedly a chunk of the front step of the original Cozy Morley’s nightclub:

Cozy Morley statue outside Westy's in North Wildwood, NJ (Photo credit: Traci Skene)

Anyway, the folks in North Wildwood, NJ, a shore town in the southern part of the state, honored Morley with the bronze likeness on the spot where Morley’s nightclub once stood. From 1959 through 1988, Morley entertained thousands. The shows are described as having had five acts, with Morley hosting, all backed by a full orchestra. The place was a classic shore dive– a clapboard exterior, patrons packed in like sardines (capacity: 1,200 people… but don’t tell the fire marshal)– but the customers were ecstatic and Morley’s legend grew. Stars often stopped by– Joey Bishop and Julius LaRosa are mentioned in any accounts of the summertime revues. The Male Half recalls tiny ads in the local daily, The Courier-Post, complete with a caricature of Morley with a packed lineup, listed in 8-pt. type, regularly appearing in that paper’s entertainment section.

The story gets weird sometime in the mid- to late-80s, when the Internal Revenue Service came a-knockin’. We vaguely recall what happened. Details are not easily found on the WWW, but, from what we recall, Morley (who allegedly owned the venue in North Wildwood, along with other property like motels) was forced to settle with the feds and it pretty much broke up the party. And we vaguely recall some sort of court order that forbade Morley from performing at his old venue. It was knocked down shortly after and an Irish pub now occupies the site.

Afterward, Morley continued to perform in the casino showrooms and lounges in Atlantic City. (The Halves of the Staff saw him perform to a packed lounge at the Trump Marina back in about 1994 or so. We don’t remember the circumstances, but we do recall that the audience was mostly seniors and the material was jaw-droppingly incorrect, politically– jokes about Irish, Jews, Italians, African-Americans, Poles, etc. And it was KILLING! Also sprinkled throughout were “naughty” gags about sex. It was a real throwback.) He continued performing in A.C. as recently as 2000, maybe more recently. We were standing up, near the bar. I think we were waiting for some other show to start, possibly Penn & Teller, in the main showroom.

We read a profile (sometime in the past six or seven years) in the Philadelphia Inquirer that was sufficiently reverent, but that also detailed how Morley was having trouble remembering his act. (The story described how he would occasionally consult his longtime drummer for cues. It was a heartbreaking account of a performer who had the will to perform but lacked certain necessary tools.)

We understand that Morley lives in the next town over, with his wife, Bobbie. We should look him up.

The man knew his way around an audience. He was comfortable as hell onstage and he had hours of material at his disposal– much of it street jokes, a lot of it probably written during the nearly three decades of taming hot, sweaty crowds of Philadelphians at the No. Wildwood club. He had a thick Philly accent and a relaxed, conversational approach. The word “institution” is thrown around loosely, but in the case of Cozy Morley, it’s fitting.

It’s a two-shot. The fellow who utters those timeless words, “Great. That sounds fair” in Part One is back, and this time, he’s accompanied by a fellow female comic. He does 1:15 of terrible material, then solicits (and gets) very positive feedback. Then he learns that she will be emceeing the weekend shows…

Part One (and, to a lesser extent, Part Two), were inspired and well-written. Not so much with Part Three. And we’re not sure this one has much of a clear point. Is the Anonymous Video Maker trashing open mikers? That’s like shooting fish in a barrel.

(We say, let’s check in our open mike friend in a year or so… he just might have a tight 8 or 9 minutes… and he’ll have lost that backwards cap and he’ll maybe have a clear point of view. Is that not what open mikes are for? And he just might get savvy enough to figure out that, though the “stanky cooch” bit may have “killed” last week, it’s probably the bit that’s keeping him from gigging on the weekends. In other words, we’re not so sure that trashing open mikers is a very fulfilling endeavor.)

Is his point that open mikers are insincere when they encourage their colleagues? Again, this wouldn’t be earth-shattering. Is he illustrating delusional comics? Frustration at progress that happens at an uneven pace? The Schadenfreude that might run rampant throughout an amateur community? Like we said, open mikers don’t make for satisfying targets. This installment might be satisfying to other open-mikers, but for us, it’s wince-inducing… and not in a good way.

We all committed some or most of the errors that Mr. GreatThatSoundsFair commits. But, somehow or another, we all (or most of us, anyway) make corrections– either through a mentor or advice from a colleague or through studying professional comics or through trial and error– and we end up being much better comedians. (And we look at old videotapes and wince! And we can’t believe how unpolished we were when we started… and this makes it hard to bring the hammer down on open mikers. And we much prefer to bring the hammer down on the folks who run the open mike stages– folks who wield the power– rather than the folks who struggle to find themselves on those stages– the powerless amateurs.)

Is the object of the video to trash “writers’ meetings?” Having never attended such a thing, we’re not familiar with what goes on there. (And we’ve never done our set in front of an audience of one, in a loft, in front of a bunch of musical instruments.) Maybe we’re missing something.

We got a cryptic message from the author (the “director?”) of the videos. Stay tuned for the “reveal.”

We trekked up to Doylestown last night. Our aim was to do six to eight minutes of new material… or to “re-purpose” old material or generally try out new modes and methods… and to do so in a setting that closely resembled comedy club conditions. (So we secured spots at that town’s Comedy Cabaret, on Saturday evening’s 9 PM show.)

Don’t misunderstand: In years between our respective open mike phases and the recent past, we have certainly written new material. But our method of breaking it in– of refining it and editing it and finding a place for it in our presentations– has been to simply perform it in the middle of a regular set, to introduce it somewhere in the midst of an actual combat situation, i.e., during paid gigs.

In August, however (as we posted last week), we decided to get onstage in a variety of venues and in a variety of situations– Like open mikes or weekend guest sets– and plunge head first into the writing process.

Last night, we had varying degrees of success and we learned some things. But other things still confounded us or remained a mystery. On the ride home, we kicked things around, came to some conclusions and marveled at the fact that, even with a quarter-century of writing and performing under each of our belts, it was still so difficult to conceive of a bit, write it out (in our heads or on paper), do it… and get laughs immediately.

What is it that makes the conception and delivery of new stuff so devlishly hard? So perplexing? Why doesn’t it just come out our mouths fully formed and with as much confidence as the stuff that’s already broken in?

An hour later, we were pulling into the parking lot of the Crowne Plaza (we decided to stop by Monster Mania and hang briefly with Jason Pollock) listening to a re-broadcast of The Dennis Miller Show on a local AM station when Miller recounted his experience with a recent theater gig. He said that the show was sold out, with an audience of 1,200. He said that he was keenly interested in breaking 15 to 30 minutes of new material for an upcoming HBO special. However, he said he realized, as he was doing the new material, that these 1,200 people were fans and that, though the material was doing well, they were there to see Dennis Miller and that they no doubt expected to see him kick the kind of ass they were accustomed to seeing him kick. He said that he realized that he wasn’t doing the new material with quite the same confidence that he does the more familiar stuff. So, he made an executive decision. He “called an audible,” and decided to pull out at about the fifteen minute mark and “turn on the burners” a “fire up the Millennium Falcon” and kick the proceedings up a notch or two by abandoning the experimental bits and going back to the tried and true.

We needed to hear this. So often during our recent experimental sets, we found ourselves torn between appearing competent and appearing tentative. So accustomed to mounting the stage and immediately and efficiently kickstarting an audience, it felt somehow wrong or awkward or to behave in a way that was counter. It doesn’t help to start out the exploratory set with a couple surefire jokes… that only makes the ensuing transition that much more jarring. We experienced a feeling that we hadn’t felt since those early, often gut-wrenching days of open mikes. If someone of Miller’s caliber and experience and stature gets similar feelings, then why, we wondered, were we being so hard on ourselves? Apparently, it’s the nature of the standup beast.

The Female Half turned to the Male Half and said, “It never ends, does it?” The Male Half replied, “Why should it?”

What we do is hard.

In the early days, one is both distressed– but ultimately and oddly comforted by– the expectation of suck. That is, in the early days, it is not expected that a budding standup comic will kill… quite the opposite, it is expected that he or she will eat it more often than not. It is that “nothing to lose” mindset that lends itself to experimentation, to exploration, to prodigious output. There’s plenty of latitude for suckitude. But that narrows, more and more, as the bombs thin out and the kill takes over. At least in our experience.

Some folks, seasoned professionals, have nerves of steel. They can stand up there for minutes at a time– at a “workout night,” at an open mike, maybe even during a paid gig– and polish a work in progress, risking great stretches of silence, maybe even incurring the wrath of a great portion of the audience. We are not those people. It is not in us. We are cautious. Overly so? Perhaps. We’re cautious and analytical. Eventually, we get there, it just takes us longer.

We theorized that the video mini-phenomenon “Stand Up Comedy is NOT Pretty” came from somewhere in Florida, specifically from South Florida. While investigating that connection, we stumbled upon the whole Crackenberry phenomenon.

There’s a person calling himself “Harold Crackenberry,” who is, in the words of one comedian, “terrorizing” the comedians of that market, through a series of Facebook status updates, videos and personal appearances. He’s also put Harold Crackenberry stickers on cars and in other places and has, according to one member of the community, “come up with creative ways to tell South Florida comics that they suck.”

A typical Crackenberry Facebook posting:

Here’s an idea for all of you aspiring South Florida comics…walk away. No one would notice except for a few friends that would get over it faster than you would like to admit to yourself.

There follows the embed of the now-famous “Stand Up Comedy is NOT Pretty” xtranormal video we posted about on the 23rd of August. Says Crackenberry of the video: “The clubs have to use techniques like this because you suck.” (He follows up with the cryptic message that he has “made a deal with the Improv for my very own show. I’ll let you… know when the show is so you can experience what real entertainment is like.” The Improv referred to here is the one inside the Seminole Hard Rock Casino, also known as the Ft. Lauderdale Improv.)

Theories abound. One has it that Crackenberry is not merely one person, but a group of people.

He (or one of his co-conspirators) even went so far as to appear at one open mike show, wearing the head of a fox (ostensibly as “Harold Crackenberry’s lawyer”), and mount the stage to play an audio tape (ostensibly from Crackenberry himself) which insulted comics and contained a filthy, confrontational poem.

We’re mystified as to why the emcee didn’t just reach over and rip the fox head off of Crackenberry!

Not all the comics are terrorized, however. Some admit that many of the stunts and postings are clever and that they demonstrate a knowledge of the scene and it’s denizens. At least one comic wrote on Crackenberry’s FB wall and practically begged the hoaxster to review his set and “give me your worst. I mean, your absolute worst.” So, it seems that one’s annoyance level at Crackenberry may depend on how long one has been plugging away at standup or how much confidence one has in one’s act.

One Sofla comic, Johann Luna, has even posted an answer rap, called “Crackenberry’s A Little Soft Bitch,” which challenges the Foxheaded one to reveal his identity or at least get up onstage and do some jokes.

It’s been going on since February. We only found out about it recently.

One Sofla comic, Will Lopez, going by the name of “Soflunny,” posted an “answer video,” using the Hitler Downfall format:

We must say this might be one of the strangest things we’ve ever seen in standup. We also must say that we’ve never been fans of anonymous criticism. We can only hope that, after some time has passed, that Crackenberry will reveal his true identity and “take the heat.” As it now stands, the entire hoax is causing the Sofla comics to speculate as to who Crackenberry is and accusing this comic or that comic of being the man behind the vitriol. It’s never a good idea when a person or persons is falsely accused. But we suppose that people need someone to blame. The idea of an anonymous, seemingly omnipotent entity that appears to know everyone– and has no compunction about saying mean things about members of the community– is disconcerting. And it has the potential to cause deep, permanent riffs in what seems to be a healthy, somewhat vibrant scene. It’s not too much of a stretch to believe that the perpetrator is a member of the community he is tormenting. Rather like an arsonist who is a member of the fire department and who seeks great pleasure in not just setting the blaze, but witnessing the aftermath and helping to put out the fire. What fun would it be to cause such turmoil among the comics if you weren’t there to see and hear the results of your handiwork?

Why doesn’t this guy go the route of Patrick Milligan of CringeHumor.net? Milligan says the most ghastly things about the comics he doesn’t like. But then he fiercely promotes those acts that he enjoys. And he produces shows that feature those acts.

We just hope that Crackenberry doesn’t have plans to franchise the venture. Something like this has the potential to destroy some of the less robust open mike/up-and-comer communities around the continent.

UPDATED: Schimmel’s death was confirmed early this morning via his Jeff Schimmel’s Facebook page. Jeff Schimmel is, according to IMDB, the brother Robert Schimmel. So far, however, there doesn’t seem to be any confirmation elsewhere. As of 9 AM EDT, his Wikipedia page hasn’t been updated to indicate his death. None of the wire services have confirmed the death. One site, Zap2It.com, “confirms” his death, but doesn’t cite a source.

It could be that there’s a lag time between the word getting out from, say, a family member, and the wire services because we’re in the middle of a holiday weekend. But, so far, Facebook seems to be the only source for confirmation of the story. There seems to be a bit of confusion. There are a handful of sites, but they’re not credible media sources.

As soon as AP or a Phoenix or Los Angeles paper reports the death, we’ll link to it.

From our post last night at 9 PM EDT Friday:

We are hearing that Robert Schimmel did not recover from the injuries sustained in a car accident Thursday, August 27.

We are working to confirm the report of his death. We have information from only one source so far.

We’ve noticed the information being posted on various Facebook status reports.

Stay tuned.

No, not at all!

“300″ just happens to be the number of people Tompkins will go out of his way to perform for.

Tompkins explains:

I’ve become fed up with the comedy club system for reasons that would cause you to self-murder should I elaborate. I don’t want that to happen. I have long thought, There’s got to be a better way than this. But I had no idea what that way could be until my experience in Toronto.

So here it is: you provide the audience, I’ll provide the show.

There follows rather detailed directions on how Tompkns enlists the manpower of rabid and resourceful fans to produce himself into a show through their use of Facebook, Twitter and other social media (and maybe even cellphones… maybe even landlines!).

The proposition is simple: If you can get 300 people in your city to commit to see Paul F. Tompkins at a small theater or nightclub, he’ll fly in and do a show.

It’s “DIY,” with a dollop of “With A Little Help From My Friends,” if you absolutely insist on having things explained to you using titles from Peter Gabriel songs and Beatles songs.

As with most brilliant ideas, this one is simple and elegant. And Tompkins, via the blog post, tells everyone how to do it!

The genesis of the Tompkins 300 Method was a booking at Atlanta’s Laughing Skull Lounge. Tompkins had great plans for the gig, including videotaping all the shows at the intimate, 74-seat room for the purposes of a television special. One problem: Ticket sales were nearly non-existent!  Panic city?  No!

Tompkins tweeted about his predicament (and requested that the tweet be re-tweeted) and, before long, he had the requisite number of people attending his shows. So far, it’s just a rather ordinary, “Ain’t-social-media-great?” story, but it gets better when a fan from Toronto, a comedian named Bob Kerr, contacts Tompkins, asking him if he’s going to perform in Toronto any time soon.

And the method was born.

He spells it out in some detail.

His update says that he’s booked six more shows using the method.

Is “PFT300″ for everyone? No. It is only realistic for someone who is at least somewhat of a draw. It’s not for the mid-level headliner who hasn’t any recent television credits. Those comics can, by tapping into their modest Facebook or Twitter followings, augment the turnout already generated by a comedy club’s own marketing effort– should there actually be one!– but it takes a bit of drawing power to work Tompkins’ Twitter magic.

But the implications are awesome.  You can read dozens of inspiring articles in Wired or on Boing Boing or CNET or Gizmodo on the splendor and the wonder of social media.  But those articles never seem to turn the corner from theory into real, tangible, anecdotal illustrations of just how the Brave New World works in practice.  Sometimes it takes a story like this one– that takes place not just in the real world, but in the real standup world that we’re intimately familiar with– to finally drive home the practicality of the newfangled media.

There were dozens of stories of how Dane Cook tapped his legions of Facebook friends to pack arenas, but the numbers always seemed so… overwhelming.  This is different… the scale is manageable and realistic.

In a previous post, we lamented the fact that so few comedy club websites offered clear contact info and instructions on what materials to provide and how to provide them.  And we’re dismayed that so few comedy club websites fail to take advantage of something as simple as posting a YouTube clip of “This Week’s Headliner” and “Next Week’s Headliner.”*

So we’re not optimistic that the venues will be adopting social media in any meaningful way any time soon.

So it falls to the talent to implement the new technology.  And it’s schemes like Tompkins’ that fire the imagination and lead the way.
_ _ _ _ _ _

* Part of the blame for this falls to the comedians for not offering a decent clip– a brief, well-framed video with clear audio.  It has become far more important than the  headshot… or will become so soon enough.  But, again, technology is making such things as clear video with good audio practical and affordable.  Flip cams, inexpensive editing software, cheap, compact digital stereo recorders put the video well within reach of most comics. And, with quality printers and inexpensive inks, color headshots– cranked out on an as-needed basis, or offered via the websie in a PDF format (for downloading and printing on the comedy club end)– there’s no excuse not to offer a color headshot.

It’s created by Marshall Chiles, a comedian and a booker who books Atlanta’s Laughing Skull Lounge and The Funny Farm.

Coincidentally, we received an email from Bert Haas of Zanies in Chicago, who asked if anyone was booking a comedy club the old way– offering quality standup comedy and only occasionally offering big-name talent. That letter and our thoughts are below the video.

Bert Haas, Executive Vice President, Zanies Comedy Clubs, Inc., writes:

I am just curious if anyone books comedy clubs anymore?

By that I mean a club that people attend because of the club itself and not to see a particular comedian?

In the 80′s and early 90′s there were entire chains (Zanies, Funny Bone, Punchline, Laff Stop) that were attended by customers that wanted to be in the club. This allowed the club to book great comedians that were not necessarily that well known.

Every four or six weeks the club might bring in a celebrity to oil the publicity machine.

Now it seems as if every club is booking “name” acts every week.

What happened to comedy clubs that sold tickets on their own and did not depend upon the headliner to sell tickets? It strikes me that these new rooms are just venues with no identity or individuality.

Any thoughts or explanations?

To which we reply:

We’ve been wondering this for quite some time (and we’ve written about it once or twice in the pages of this magazine).

Back when the business collapsed (1993 may have been the nadir), many wondered if standup comedy was “over.” Of course, this was ludicrous. It was just a provocative meme that various panic merchants and media types liked to peddle. Standup comedy, we said, was enjoyed too much by too many to simply disappear. It had become too much a part of the pop culture over the previous 20 years (or the previous 40 years, if you go back to the Lenny Bruce/Bob Newhart/Shelley Berman era… or the previous 80 years if you go back to the vaudeville era!) to simply go away as a fad or a passing fancy might.

We predicted (and with eerie accuracy) that it would come back in the following form: The stronger comedy clubs would remain and get stronger. Small 100- to 150-seat rooms would book mid-level comedians on theri schedules in addition to booking, say, folk acts, indy label singer-songwriters and other musical acts. Larger venues in the 750- to 1,200-seat range would bring in the comics who established themselves in the 80s and 90s via exposure on cable and network television. Well, whaddya know. That’s precisely what happened.

Now, of course, the transition hasn’t been smooth. And that has resulted in some quirks, like that which is contained in Mr. Haas’ letter– conventional comedy clubs that book “name” acts every week. These hybrids– these conventional comedy clubs that cough up a steady and wide stream of cash in order to present a (rather top-heavy) bill, week in and week out– are something that we couldn’t have foreseen. (And, from what we hear on the street, the formula is meeting with varying degrees of success.)

We are puzzled, as is Haas, however, at the seeming demise of the comedy club that offers as its main product Good Solid Standup Comedy. For some time, we have wondered exactly what has happened to the business model that depended on a certain sort of trust– a pact between club and patron– that was, simply stated: We offer good standup from people you may not have heard of, but you can rest assured that we offer the very best that we can find. The corollary was: We know our customers and we know what our customers like and they trust us. It takes some energy and imagination. The booker isn’t so much a talent booker as a curator. He watches DVDs, he attends festivals (and actually attends some shows!), he asks trusted acts if they know of anyone who might appeal to the club’s crowds. He also considers offers from agents, but carefully.

The other pact– that between club and talent– states that the club treats the talent well, pays them fairly and seeks to make the experience of performing a pleasant one, in a room that is above-average technically and aesthetically.

We like that model. Of course, there’s a certain degree of self-interest at work here: We fit right into a club with that policy. Notwithstanding our recent appearances on primetime network television, we still can’t be considered a draw in any meaningful way. But, due to our lengthy and extensive experience performing in a multitude of venues and locations, we are certain to deliver in such a venue. And, we are eminently marketable– that is, we have a good story, a “hook” upon which any decent marketing people can hang a decent press release, often resulting in ink in the daily paper or a hit in the local free weekly or a spirited radio appearance, all of which serves to not only get people in the house on that particular week, but makes thousands of other impressions which raises the profile of the club in the mid- and long-term.

It would seem like a sound strategy to take three-quarters of that money spent on comics with major television credits and pump a good portion of it into marketing and advertising– in radio, or in the dying local newspaper– and build up the customer base. We seem to recall that people who go to comedy clubs are prone to a certain kind of low-level fanatacism– Once they get hooked, they show up over and over again, rather like sports fans. And they proselytize. (“A satisfied customer is our best advertising.”)

We don’t know all of this for a fact. It’s mostly conjecture.

Does there exist, out there, any hard data on these matters? Has any club ever taken marketing so seriously that they’ve gone to the trouble of actually surveying their customers and finding out any information about them regarding frequency of visits, income, etc? Has any club ever polled the audience beyond “How did you hear about us?” or “Who would you like to see appear at the Comedy Club?” (We suspect that much of the decisions are based not on data, but on anecdotal evidence.)

We suspect that the “superstar” model (for lack of a better term) is viewed as a legitimate way to do business and that it is supported by a complex spreadsheet that takes into account the number of seats, the ticket price, the number of drinks sold, etc. (As for the idea that those clubs are lacking in identity, we would counter that, if they’re in a market where there is competition, then their “identity” is that of “the club that brings in name talent.” And that no further defining is needed.)

Of course, in the battle for hearts and minds, after all the gobs of cash spent on comedy stars, it quite often comes down to the battle of YouTube clips. No matter how much money Club X paid for their Comedy Central darling, Mr. and Mrs. Comedy Club Patron are more and more frequently making their spending decision on who is funnier in the YouTube clip on the respective comedy club websites. We hear it and see it when we hit the road. (We’re not bragging here, just making an observation.) Perhaps the internet will be the catalyst. Perhaps, if the customer has more autonomy and more information, the power will shift, there will be less of what the economists call “friction” in the transaction between customer and venue. (Of course, clubs can only benefit from the data if they collect it, analyze it properly and then act on it properly. It’s a long shot.)

If they’re in a market with no competition… and they’re still spending a fortune on big names… we’re not so sure that’s wise. Perhaps it’s a preemptive measure designed to keep competitors from even thinking about coming into the market.

In any event, it seems as though the word on the street is that some comedy clubs are growing a bit leery of the big-ticket acts. Either because they don’t sell tickets or they don’t deliver once onstage. Or both. In this economy, the old model might be looking better and better.

Or not. We hear more stories like the one in the video… which end with the club agreeing to the exorbitant fees and demands… and ultimately being dissatisfied with the results. (And then we hear of yet another club doing the same. And then another.)

We’re posting a lot about booking and promotion and “bringer” shows lately. Hmmm… Stay tuned.

We’re stunned by how many comedy clubs don’t provide this for comics seeking work.

We got to thinking and talking about this recently. And we focused on it even more when we watched the robot video “How to get booked at a comedy club” (See posting below). We pondered the relationship between a club booker and the talent. Not for the first time, mind you.

Since we’ve never had an agent or a manager, we’ve always had to scare up gigs on our own. We have had to interface with club owners and bookers on a regular basis since the 1980′s. Part of dealing with the inevitable frustration has been an attempt to get inside the mind of the bookers, to anticipate their thought processes and their business practices (and we use that term loosely) so as to wring a date out of them. It’s frustrating to deal with them. They don’t exactly make the task easy.

Of course, it’s somewhat of a two-way street.

We imagine the booker might just identify with that dude with the shotgun in “Night of the Living Dead.” (The comics, in this analogy are, of course, the zombies, constantly banging on the door, constantly seeking entry, coming from all sides, moaning.

You have something we want. We don’t just want it… we need it.

But… you need what we offer.

But there’s a way of dealing with this adversarial relationship. We’ve seen bookers/clubs deal with this dynamic in dozens of different ways. Some are brilliant in their simplicity, their streamlining, the exquisite manner in which they simultaneously: 1) minimize contact between booker and comic; 2) clarify the process and ground rules for contact between booker and comic and 3) efficiently provide a)the booker with what he wants and b) the comic with what he wants.

Why can’t all bookers/clubs be this way?

We recall a conversation with a booker years ago. This booker had a system. Let’s say it was, “I only book on Tuesdays between 10 AM and 2 PM.” You’d call between those hours and she wouldn’t be there! Or you would call during the designated hours on the designated day and she would inform you that she had done all her booking on the previous day! (We would eventually secure bookings from this person… so, it wasn’t a case of us being purposely lied to or just us being jerked around. But it was a case of a booker who, in an attempt to simplify the process– and perhaps minimize any animosity or frustration– abandoned her own rules and, in the process, complicated matters and ratcheted up the hard feelings and frustration. Comics love rules. Comics hate it when the rules are subsequently turfed.)

One day we called and she said, “I’ll tell ya… if I have to talk to one more fucking comedian today, I’m going to scream!” And she said it without a hint of irony or humor.

What does a comedian say to that? (The imprudent thing to say would be, “If I have to talk to one more fucking booker today, I’m going to scream.” Instead, the response was, most likely, “Ya got anything in August?”)

Another club owner would engage The Male Half in seemingly endless conversations in which he would piss and moan about how bad the business was, how much he hated the business, how miserable his life was made by comedians, etc. This went on, over the course of months (years?)… without a booking. Eventually a booking came. And the Male Half discovered that working for this gentleman was actually far worse than not working for him. Lesson learned.

We’re in the midst of the grinding process of filling in the holes in our 2010 schedule and booking the 2011 schedule.

We’re conducting most of our booking and correspondence via email. Email has been the dominant way to conduct this kind of business since about 2005 or so. And we pretty much ceased sending out physical (or “hard copy”) press kits in late 2007 or so, instead opting to drive people to our online press kit. We like to conduct business in this manner.

We still call some clubs if we have an existing relationship. No problem there. But calling someone we don’t know is… awkward? Excruciating? (For both booker and comic.)

Lately, we are very partial to obtaining an email address. Then we can send along a letter of introduction, provide links to our kit or to our latest YouTube clip, provide upcoming schedule information and get the ball rolling on a future booking. Sounds good, doesn’t it?

Why is getting an email so difficult? Why is communication in general so difficult, such an imprecise swamp of murky missed connections or outright obfuscation or confusion?

We get a phone number from the website. We call. “Debbie” answers. (Or “Justin” or “Katelyn” or “Jessica.”) We get the name of the booking contact, but not the email address. We get a “better” phone number. (Aaaarrgggh!) Or we get a “better time to call.” (Double aaaarrgggh!) Or we get shunted off to voicemail… where we leave a message… and our call is rarely returned. (But then, why should the booker return the call of someone he doesn’t know?)

One wonders if the booker is purposely building a wall between himself and the talent. If that is the case, one wonders why?

(And if the booker is intentionally building a virtually impenetrable wall between himself and the talent, then isn’t it time for the club to hire someone else? Or, if the booker is in-house, isn’t it time to shift the responsibility to someone else? That’s a discussion for another time.)

But all of this could be resolved through the judicious and conscientious use of email. (We swerve dangerously close to “telling someone how to do their job.” To which we reply: Have you met a booker who is deliriously happy with the way it’s currently going?)

We understand a booker wanting to minimize his contact with the talent. Let’s be real: If he didn’t, he could quite conceivably spend 18 hours per day/five days a week doing nothing but fielding phone calls from comedians seeking work. That would be stupid and wildly inefficient– for all concerned. But there is an elegant way to minimize that contact while still making it clear that the comedian isn’t spinning his wheels, shouting into a void, wasting his time.

And that way turfs the phone and embraces email.

Make the booker’s email address readily available.

Make clear just what information should be included in any booking email.

Make somewhat of an effort to acknowledge receipt of said email. (Even if it’s an automated response, followed occasionally by a real one.)

(That last one is crucial. It sends a message that the comic’s time isn’t being wasted. We have never understood why it’s a capital crime to waste a booker’s time, but it’s perfectly fine and dandy to waste a comic’s time. We acknowledge a certain imbalance of power, a certain slant toward a “buyer’s market,” but hasn’t the business matured to the point where certain of the rules of the business world at large might now apply to the business of standup comedy? Is that asking too much?)

Many sites offer an email form. (A javascript that allows the sender to enter his email address, a brief message and hit “send.”) It’s often the same form that potential customers are urged to use if they have a question about birthday parties or to “make suggestions,” so pardon us if we’re somewhat skeptical that our pathetic entreaties will ever find their way to the appropriate pair of eyeballs via the impersonal (“Handy!”) email form.

We have an what we think is an impressive online press kit– it provides a club with decent resources for promotion and it clearly spells out who we are, what we do, what we’re capable of doing for a club. While we certainly don’t expect someone to return our phone call when they have little idea of who we are, we would at least like to have an opportunity to get the link to that press kit into inboxes so that we have a fighting chance to start a dialogue, to initiate talks that may lead to a booking. We want what every comic wants: To get past the clutter, to get our message in front of the person who can make a decision and do so in an efficient manner that benefits both the talent and the venue.