"It's Not Funny Anymore: Comedy in the Recession”
(Natural sound, ComedyCity show)
This is what it's like every Friday and Saturday night at ComedyCity in De Pere,
Wisconsin. Six improv comedians. One referee. One stage. And one building, in
foreclosure.
(Nats: door opens)
Mike Eserkaln: "This is the foyer now, this used to be a bathroom. An old, one stall
men’s room.”
Like tens of thousands of homeowners and businesses across the country -- Comedy in
the Green Bay area is losing its home. And it's owner…
Mike: “That’s our stage…”
…Is filing for bankruptcy.
Mike: “Our sound setup is awesome. We had a huge sub woofer built for this room.”
This is Mike Eserkaln. He's run the improv comedy club, in some form or another, since
1996. He locked down this building -- an old, historic library -- about 5 years ago.
Mike: “See the arched doorways there? Those are supposed to be reminiscent or
evocative of an Italian plaza, because Italy is where improv first started. Ancient improv,
old improve.”
Now he's faced with the reality that this building will only be his for a few more months.
After that, his troupe will be homeless... and things in this part of Wisconsin... will be a
little less funny.
Craig Knitt: “My name is Craig Knitt, I’ve been taking classes and performing since
1999.”
Katie Guzek: “I’m Katie Guzek, I’ve been in the club six years, since 2003.”
Meet Craig and Katie, two troupe veterans. As they sit cross legged on the floor of
ComedyCity's improv mainstage -- you feel something you usually don't feel inside a
comedy club….
Craig: “It would be a terrible shame.”
…You feel sad.
Craig: “It would be a terrible shame if we would lose this place. And I’m not going to
accept the fact that it’s gone until it happens. And until that time, ComedyCity is our
home. And until that miserable, old, mean crabby bank kicks us out of here – we’re
staying.”
(Music cue: After Laughter Comes Tears)
They say comedy is serious business. But as anyone in the troupe will tell you, things
here have gone from serious -- to downright depressing. Here's the owner, Mike Eserkaln
again.
Mike: "Every week I still have no money, at the end of the week. September -- I just
looked at the numbers – usually we average $10,000 a month…. We made $5,000 in
September. That’s bad.”
Business here has been going downhill for a while... Just like it's been going downhill
everywhere. And even though financial experts say the recession is technically over -- the
pain technically isn't.
Maria: “So tell me your name and how long you’ve been involved in the club.”
John Egan: “John Egan, 5 ½ years.”
He's in full-blown denial about the whole situation. In fact, he readily admits he'll cry…
Egan: "And cry and cry and cry."
…After the last show in the building.
Maria: “So you’re in denial?”
Egan: “Yes, I’m in full denial. And I will be in denial until I have to leave this building.
Until they physically force us from of this building. It’s kind of cliché, but this place
changed my life in a sense.”
You heard him right. This tiny improv comedy club outside of Green Bay, Wisconsin
changed his life. And here's the most surprising part. He's not the only one who feels that
way. Every other person in the troupe I asked, literally, every single member, said the
exact same thing. 100%. I don’t think the economy has ever seen those kind of numbers.
And it's not very hard to see why.
This bizarre ritual:
(NATS: Beep, beep, beep.)
This bizarre ritual is performed before every ComedyCity show.
(NATS: Beep, beep, beep.)
It's called the "beep circle." One player starts it off -- the rest follow suit -- and before
you know it, everyone is "beeping" together, in one voice.
(nats: “Alright, let’s do it!”)
It might seem silly, but it's a small example of exactly what has kept this club so tight.
The idea that not one person - but the group as a whole - working as one - is what
matters.
You see -- The whole idea of improv is based on the concept of working together.
(Show nats: Egan: “I know you were weirded out about coming over to my house.”)
Every scene is made up on the spot -- so you need to be able to count on your fellow
performers to help you out. Otherwise you won't get laughs like this:
(Show nats: Pat: How did you know I was a vegetarian? Egan: “Facebook!”)
You'd probably just fall on your face.
Still confused? Here’s the basics:
One player starts up the scene, based on an audience suggestion, like "fathers and sons.”
Player 1 is tasked with setting up a location.
Egan: “Sure is lonely at this watering hole.”
Then another player comes in and establishes relationship.
Scott: “Well, dad, maybe it wouldn’t be so lonely if you invited me once in a while.”
The third player often enters and establishes conflict.
Larry: “Excuse me, gentlemen, this water is poisoned.”
And that's it. Without all three people working together and helping each other...
everything would fall apart.
(Music cue: Chicago, Sufjan Stevens)
And unfortunately, despite everyone working together, things here at ComedyCity are
still falling apart.
Katie: "The fact that we put the work into the building…This was our dream and I think
we realized that dream -- and to see that go is really heart breaking. I don’t know about
you, but I’m chaining myself to the building.”
The players aren't only sad about the foreclosure for selfish or personal reasons. There's
something bigger at work here. Something potentially even sadder. Historically, in tough
times, people have looked to comedy as an outlet -- something they can use to help forget
their troubles. While everything collapsed- performance persevered. Only this time... the
comedy is collapsing, along with everything else.
Katie: “It’s ironic. It’s funny-ironic. I mean we’re a funny place, and we’re a funny
group -- and we don’t sit around and cry but it’s very sad! You know? It’s very sad – it’s
like the sad clowns. We’re the goofball clowns and they’re like, ‘Get out!’ We’re
homeless clowns now.”
(Music up and out)
The thing is, you can't really connect your heart to the foreclosure of a bank... or a
stranger's home... but a comedy club -- who's only purpose... quite literally, it's only
purpose -- is to make people happy... is going down... just like it was any other building
without a pulse.
Which, when you boil it down to brass tacks, it is.
No matter how much hard work or…
Mike: "blood sweat and tears"
…. Went into making the building your own it or how many memories it carries.
Mike: "I’m mostly sad because when we moved in here my daughter was two. And she’s
been growing up around this theatre, so it’s very sad not to be able to offer that for my
daughter. It’s got some pretty big emotional attachments. So, I don’t know, I may need a
drink – or three.”
And it's not like the 30 or so players of ComedyCity are losing the Taj Mahal, here. On
the outside - the building is beautiful -- but inside, it's old, drafty, falling apart. There's a
sign on a stall in the women's bathroom that says "out of order..." and the sign itself is
falling off the door. However... I get the impression that doesn't matter to the players so
much.
Ken: “The basement hasn’t been cleaned or picked up in many months. And I think we
stopped cleaning the bathrooms, too. (laughs)”
In fact, the long list of repairs has become a kind of a running joke.
Ken: “As the light bulbs burn out in the building, we’re not replacing them, we’re just
adjusting how we light. For example: the stage lights that go out, those are expensive
bulbs, and instead of replacing them - we’ll just use more of the other side. So if one of
the lights on the left side goes out, we’ll just turn the right ones up brighter! And hope
our stage people are wearing something reflective – and sometimes that works.”
The troupe went through hell and high water actually get into this building in the first
place. They were a wandering troupe for a number of years. They played hotels, kids'
birthday parties, even bowling alleys.
So, when Mike decided to buy the old library and convert it into a comedy club and a
small theater -- everyone was excited. Maybe too excited.
Me: “Were you optimistic when you took this place?”
Mike: "I told my brother we were apparently delusionaly optimistic."
They thought the crowds would grow - but they didn't. They thought outside events
would grow - but they didn't.
Mike: “The phone doesn’t ring as much. It’s businesses cutting out their entertainment.
We are expendable to a business. We are expendable. And I’m sure someone at some
business is like, ‘You’re going to spend money at a comedy club? That’s hardly worth
our businesses’ time!’ Okay, that’s fine, but then – next year – when you want to go to
that comedy club – that comedy club isn’t going to be there.”
(Music cue: Nickel Creek: Can’t Complain)
And ComedyCity not being there is something that hurts the players deeply. They feel the
deep gouge it will take out of the out of the city, out of the community, even out of the
block the building is on.
Me: “Do you think the area is losing something with the loss of this building?
Egan: “Yeah, and they have no idea.”
Katie: "So that’s the thing. I’m going to drive past and see nothing going on and I’m
going to think, ‘Really? You couldn’t just let us turn on the lights and go on stage?’ And
I know it’s juvenile and whatever – and financially we’re not supposed to be here…but I
just don’t get how that’s better than to leave it empty than to not let us put on a show.”
Craig: "This old building that’s a pretty darn unique place is going to be – what? What’s
going to happen to it eventually?”
(Music up)
Katie: “I don’t know, is it going to be torn down?’
Craig: “Who knows. I would not be surprised if that were to happen. Because it’s like,
okay, we need to put up another Subway. ‘Tear it down!’
But, chances are, it won't end up being a Subway or even another bar. It may end up
being something even worse.
Mike: "Our attorney is being careful to not be biased about it but he’s looking to move
his offices and he may want to move in here.”
That's right. ComedyCity's foreclosure attorney wants to move into the building he's
helping foreclose.
(Rim Shot)
If that’s not comedy, I don’t know what is.
(Music cue: David Byrne)
Improv comedy is all about making things up on the spot. Finding ways to breathe life
into a scene when it feels like it's going nowhere. And that's exactly what's happening to
this club. They’re going nowhere. Yet, somehow, -- no one can figure out a way to save
the scene. Even the really experienced players who've been here for years.
So I decided to give them a push.
Maria: “Say this was an improv scene. Using your improv skills what would you do to
save the scene and make it good in the end?”
Katie: “Yeah, I’m like ‘Why can’t we improv a way out of this?” (laughs)
Tony: “If it was a comedy scene, I say we would all escape in a hot air balloon.”
Maria: “That is not fixing the problem.”
Tony: “No, but you’ve got to admit, it’s certainly better than what’s happening right
now.”
Ken: “If we were being foreclosed upon, I would find a way to make the club invisible to
everyone that I didn’t want to see it – so, our audience, all of our employees, all of our
friends and family would be able to see the building, because they’d have special glasses,
obviously. But the banks and the police, let’s say – because I’m sure they’d get involved,
they would not be able to see the building because they didn’t have the special glasses.
So that’s what I would do.”
Craig: “I would try to get as many lottery tickets as I could and make sure that in that
bundle there was one that would be worth a million dollars. Boom.”
Katie: “I would gather all the neighborhood kids, put on a big show in the barn which
would be attended by millions of people – and Daddy Warbucks, he would show up –
Yeah, we’d put on a big show and a bunch of people would come and some anonymous
rich donor would buy the building – but also the community would realize what they’re
losing.”
(Music cue: Frightened Rabbit: Good Arms vs. Bad Arms)
Katie: “And in real life, I think people aren’t going to realize what they’re losing until
it’s gone.”
(Music up and out)
(Show nat sound: Egan: “Welcome! Welcome everyone! Welcome to our last show here
in this building!)
You guessed it. The club did go under. I was there for the final show.
Despite the packed house and the great performances, there was an undercurrent of
sadness. The players could feel the dream they thought they had a solid grip on - being
yanked out of their hands. And then, it was over.
(Nats: Audience cheers)
So did everyone "cry and cry and cry?”
Turns out, most didn't. Not even the guy who - just a couple months earlier - was sure he
would.
Me: “How are you feeling at this moment after the last show in the building?”
Egan: “Good, I’m happy, it’s fun.”
Maria: “Why do you think you feel better now than you thought you would?”
Egan: “Because things happen because they happen. It’s like the 12 steps of denial and
now I’m at the acceptance and happy phase.”
Me: “How are you feeling after the last show?”
Katie: “Energized! I thought I’d be super sad, but I’m super excited. And had a really
good time.”
Me: “Why are you excited?”
Katie: “Because it was an awesome show and everyone was here and it took my mind off
of how horribly sad it is.”
Me: “How are you feeling after that last show?”
Tony: “I didn’t think I would feel much of anything, tonight. And I’m glad I was here.
I’m glad I was here, and the future feels kind of hopeful.”
So why the hope?
There is light at the end of the tunnel. A punchline that just might play out in the club's
favor. After being kicked out of their building, the group struck a deal with a sports bar
down the block. They'll perform in a tiny back room. It's not ideal, but they'll take it. And
hopefully, in the midst of this recession -- have the last laugh.
Me: “Katie said you were like a bunch of homeless clowns.”
Ken: “Homeless clowns? Maybe, maybe. I consider myself a homeless astronaut. But,
again, that’s the improv in me.”
(Music cue: Tears of a Clown: The English Beat)