On the Road

Monday, October 10--Burbank

I did The Tonight Show, with Jay Leno as the host. Because Jay is a friend, I didn't suffer the same type of nervousness I normally do. Also, with a guest host, you're allowed to repeat material you've done on the show before, so my set went real well. What I really liked was that Jay made a point of coming to my dressing room before the show. Johnny generally doesn't talk to the guests beforehand, because he doesn't want to detract from the spontaneity. David Letterman's policy is the same, though David is also more of an inward person.

Jay and I go back to the Comedy Store days, when I used to call him Mr. Chin. Jay once told me he operated under the act-check philosophy. "Do the act, pick up the check," he said. Of course, with his stature now, it's probably check-act. He has no artistic pretensions. Yet with his sharp intellect, dedication to truth and work ethic, he has emerged as a blue-collar comedic artist.

I really admire Jay's lack of neurosis. To him, being on the road is like a vacation. I find that incomprehensible, given my own moodiness; but then, once you remove that moodiness--as he has done--it becomes quite simple.

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Tuesday, October 18--Chicago

I always leave for a show with the feeling of numbness. No expectations, no adrenaline. By Los Angeles standards, where I live, it's colder than a motherfucker here in Chicago. I'm staying at one of those residential hotels and my room has no heat. I was also down because I read an article in The Wall Street Journal today that said that while eight of the ten most popular athletes in the country were black, nine of the top ten athletes in endorsement money were white. I must say, that didn't put me in a good mood to do comedy. After I read the article, I just said to myself, "It's great to be an American." Whenever I find myself in one of these moods, I try to be professional. You have to be a self-starter to do stand-up night after night regardless of your emotional state.

The Improv was half full, or half empty, according to the Shearson Lehman Hutton commercial. So I'll say it was half full. Unfortunately, my show was half empty. It's the first time that's happened in a while. My engine just wouldn't turn over. I even had to pull out my note cards and look at them during the show. I got off the stage to a good laugh, but it was a struggle. It's going to be a tough week psychologically, because it's October. I've got a lot of jokes behind me this year--the dog days of comedy have arrived.

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Wednesday, October 19--Chicago

The show tonight was much better. It was almost a full house, and that makes a hell of a difference. Laughter is more infectious with a big audience. A small audience demands, unconsciously, that the comedian be responsible for generating the enthusiasm, which is fine for those good days but quite a chore if you're a little out of sorts.

About five years ago, I was in San Francisco working at a club with another comedian named Doug Kehoe. He was a baseball fanatic and he said that being a stand-up comedian was like being a pitcher. Like a pitcher, a comedian has the ball. Nothing happens until he releases the ball, or, in our case, the routine. And the success of the show depends on the comedian's choice of pitches. Because I never do the same show twice, I liked that idea, so for the rest of the week, when one of us would finish our act, the other would tell him what he thought the score was. For example, tonight I won 4--0, (continued on page 158)On The Road(continued from page 144) allowing six hits. Last night, I won 6--5, allowing 12 hits. If I'd had a bull pen, I'd have been relieved.

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Thursday, October 20--Chicago

I'll be 40 next year and the thing that bothers me the most is the possibility, the way things are going, that I may never have a family of my own. I keep reading how single men die sooner than married men and married men die sooner than women. Either way, men are getting the short end of the stick. I think single men die sooner because sometimes they have to order pizza three nights in a row. Too many years of eating pizza for dinner will shrink a life span considerably. I'm not involved with anyone right now and my lifestyle does not lend itself to developing relationships.

One of the great myths about show business is that comedians have groupies. It's not true. But when I did my first film, Car Wash, women actually gravitated to me. I loved it; but, to tell you the truth, I think anyone who's halfway decent-looking can become a sex symbol if he's in a movie or in music, but not if he's a comedian. Years ago, when I used to play in folk-rock clubs, single women would come in groups to see the musicians. If you were lucky, some of the overflow would show interest in the comedian. When comedy started booming, the make-up of the audiences at clubs changed drastically. All the women have dates! On those rare occasions when a woman approaches you at a club, she's almost always very intelligent. Whenever I learn that a comedian I respect is getting married, I immediately assume that his wife is very smart and quick. I'm always proved right.

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Friday, October 21--Chicago

I've been eating at a restaurant called the Oak Tree, and today, the cashier came up to me and said, "You know, people have been asking if you are a comedian who's been on HBO." "Well, if a pretty woman asks, please send her over," I said. I appeared on Robert Townsend's HBO special and it seems to be paying off, though I still can't get HBO to do a special with me. They say I don't have enough heat.

There are two ways to do the road. Either you can be wild and party or you can be fairly disciplined and restrained. Ultimately, you have to be a loner to handle it. Being disciplined seems to work best for me. I carry my chess set, my chess computer, my clarinet, my golf clubs (weather permitting), sometimes my little portable typewriter and a book or two. My interest in more cerebral things is increasing as I get older.

I'm working with another Los Angeles comedian named Ron Richards. He helps Jay Leno by critiquing his Tonight Show monologs. Jay is left-handed. It's amazing how many comedians are left-handed. They say that only ten percent of the general population is left-handed but that 60 percent of the comedians are. I was at The Improv in Los Angeles one night and Jerry Seinfeld, Kevin Rooney, Jay Leno, Larry Miller and I were sitting at a table talking, talking. As the evening wore on, with autographs and checks being signed, it became apparent that all of us were left-handed. Mind-blowing.

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Saturday, October 22--Chicago

Tonight was grind-it-out night at the club, because I had three shows--seven, 9:30 and 11:45. Not many clubs have three shows anymore. Fifteen, 16 years ago, many clubs did three shows on Saturday nights. And I used to get confused by the third show. I'd start to say something and then think, Did I already say this? I used to have an agreement with the waitresses. Whenever I'd start a routine that caused me some doubt, I'd look at them and they'd give me a signal if I'd already done it. Tomorrow I head out for El Paso, where I'll do a one-nighter with Jeff Altman, the comic in the Bud Light commercials.

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Sunday, October 23--El Paso

Everything went great in El Paso. We sold out two shows. Jeff and I play tennis together. He has one hell of a temper, especially after one of his many beatings at my hands. At one time, he used to break more than $1000 worth of rackets a year in fits of anger. I remember one night at The Comedy Store, 12 years ago, Jeff did a physical impression titled "A Day in the Life of a Penis." He lay down on a stool and then imitated a penis alternately erecting and then subsiding as women walked by. I was the only one in the audience who laughed, and he's never done that routine since. Jeff and I both made a good taste of money tonight, and I'd like to do more of these one- or two-night gigs. I have a 4:15-a.m. wake-up call and a six-a.m. flight to Houston so I can do some early radio shows to promote my one-nighter there.

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Monday, October 24--Houston

I did a one-hour-and-50-minute show--the longest set I've done in ages. Plus, I had two hecklers. My first tactic with a heckler is to ignore him. Thank goodness most hecklers say stupid things and you can usually hang them in a short time if you need to. It took ten minutes before my first heckler could be embarrassed into silence. I was boiling inside--if a heckler takes up too much of your time, it's difficult to get back to your prepared material. I won the audience back, and I was cruising when the second heckler hit--an hour and 40 minutes into the show. I said, "Look, man, I dealt with one cat, I don't need this. Y'all take it easy," and I started to walk off the stage. This was no bluff. The rest of the audience said, "No, no, come on back," and intimidated the heckler. In fact, the first heckler offered to shut him up for me. So I stayed and finished the show.

Afterward, a couple of people said, "Man, you handled those hecklers so well. You were so relaxed." When I told them how infuriated I was, they seemed surprised. "You're very lucky. Your anger doesn't show," one of them said.

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Thursday, October 27--Houston

Called my answering machine, got my messages. One call was from Arsenio Hall's office. I wonder what that's about. I'll find out when I get back to L.A.

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Friday, October 28--Los Angeles

Talked to Arsenio today. He said he has always liked my writing and wanted to know if I'd be interested in writing for his new talk show. He figured if I were anything like him, I'd want to get off the road. I said, "You got that right!"

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Thursday, November 3--Los Angeles

I had a meeting over at Paramount Studios with Arsenio Hall and Marla Kell Brown, his producer. I've known Arsenio for a number of years, and I know he's one of those performers who truly enjoy being on stage and showing off. There are others who are more reticent--they aren't showoffs but are still in show business. Johnny Carson is one. You can tell he doesn't have an exhibitionist's personality. I don't either.

It was a very good meeting. They wanted to know if I'd resent writing for someone else. Could I work five days a week with that type of regimentation? And my answer was: In all honesty, I'm interested in the challenge. Whether it will work out in the long run, who knows?

Arsenio and I are going to work out some details--I'll need some flexibility so I can continue performing live if I want to, because I make such good money on the road. I told them I have some club dates through New Year's Eve, and after that, I'm free. They said I should be receiving an offer in a few days.

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Sunday, November 6--Studio City

I had dinner tonight with Jonathan Winters in preparation for his Showtime special, Jonathan Winters & Friends, that's being taped tomorrow. Some of the other "friends" and their spouses were there, too: Jeff Altman and his wife, Leslie, Louise DuArt (an excellent impressionist), her husband, Barry, and some executives from Showtime. Jonathan has a quicksilver mind that's constantly spewing shards of thought. He'll start one thing and then, in the middle, switch to another, and I found it a little hard to follow him because he's so ever-changing. But he's a genial man, who was very much the host and kept the conversation going.

Jonathan told us he doesn't like to do talk shows, because they pay so little. Of course, the trade-off is exposure. That doesn't set well with Jonathan. He told a story about going to a store and when the saleswoman asked for some money, he just held out the palm of his hand. "Here," he said. "Take this."

"What's that?" she said.

"That's exposure," he answered. Yeah!

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Monday, November 7--Los Angeles

We taped Jonathan's special at Igby's in West Los Angeles today. During a break, Jeff Altman and I were sitting in the dressing room, looking through a copy of the comedy newspaper Just for Laughs. Jeff kept looking at the club listings and shaking his head, saying, "There are too many comedians, man."

I had to follow Jonathan--and, man, was he on his game! I was backstage listening, and immediately, I realized--he's on. He's really on. The last couple of years he's been a little hit-and-miss, but tonight he was cooking.

Jonathan's performance really rocked me. I kept saying to myself, "You've been doing this for sixteen years, you've paid your dues, you've prepared diligently for the show and there must be some intrinsic value to what you do." Then I went out and everything turned out fine: 4--2, six hits.

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Tuesday, November 8--Los Angeles

Tonight, I started work reshooting some scenes on the new Tom Hanks movie, The 'Burbs. We shot the film in July, and now they're reshooting because they want Tom to be on the screen more at the end. Regrettably, I don't have that much to do on the film. I'm basically a highly paid extra. My call was for eight p.m. and we didn't shoot the scene till 3:30 a.m.

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Thursday, November 10--Los Angeles

I talked with Tom Hanks for a while on the set. Tonight was the first time we'd seen each other since July. I asked him how he liked Narcissus and Goldmund, a book I recommended he take on his recent trip to Europe. If I were an English teacher, I'd have to give him an F on his book report.

My one line tonight was, "Is this your vehicle, Dr. Klopek?" You know, all in all, I like doing film work better than stand-up, just for the camaraderie. There's a lot of down time, that's true, but there's a family feeling on a movie set that's nonexistent in a club situation.

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Saturday, November 12--Los Angeles

I'm convinced that no one loves his work more than a film director. The 'Burbs director, Joe Dante, said that he got only one hour of sleep yesterday, and yet here at the end of shooting, at six a.m., he's still as energetic and charged up as ever.

It's my last night of work on this film. Tom and I were in his trailer during a break when a young female extra knocked on his door to see if she could get an autograph. We talked to her for a while, gave her autographs, and you could just see her trying to drag out the moment--and I realized she'll always treasure the time she talked to Tom Hanks in his trailer.

I've been in the business too long to be overly impressed. The last time I had even the slightest sense of awe was when I worked on The Jazz Singer in 1980 with Neil Diamond and Sir Laurence Olivier. When I was introduced to Olivier, I asked him what I should call him. "Oh, just call me Larry," he said. Yeah, sure. I told him in that case, he could call me Sir Franklyn.

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Wednesday, November 16--Los Angeles/Detroit

I don't even know the club I'm booked at. All I know is that Bernie Young, my agent, called me and said I'd be leaving tomorrow for a three-day gig in Detroit.

While I was buying my ticket at the airport, the saleswoman recognized me. She said, "Comedians are God's gift to people." That was really nice. Sometimes I feel somewhat low about the seemingly ephemeral nature of what I do.

I'm working at a club named Puzzles Comedy Club in the city of Warren, Michigan, which is right outside Detroit. When I drove into the parking lot, I saw that my first name was misspelled. Over my career, that's been a constant. People just insist on spelling Franklyn with an L-I-N instead of L-Y-N, even though everything my agents send them has L-Y-N on it.

Tonight, I met Keith Ruff. Keith is 31 and he's an appliance salesman during the day who does comedy at night. He told me that he has been following comedy for years and that he studies comedy albums diligently. He's one of the few young comedians I've met who take such an analytical approach. Most young comics say, "I wanna be funny," without giving it much thought. When I started out, I bought every comedy album I could--Richard Pryor, Bill Cosby, Robert Klein, Winters, Bob Newhart, Lenny Bruce, Woody Allen. I'd dissect their routines in my own way, just to get a feel for how comedy works.

My major influence was Richard Pryor. Next to him, my favorite was Robert Klein. In fact, I consider my approach to be a synthesis of Pryor's black urban sensibility and Klein's college-educated wit--with a touch of George Carlin's genial informality thrown in. Among comedians, Pryor is universally acclaimed as the greatest stand-up ever. To my mind, only Jonathan Winters comes close. But Richard has everything Jonathan has, plus something more--real emotional conviction fired by a dramatically rebellious point of view. I once watched him every night for a week at The Comedy Store, and I left the club every night depressed, because my material seemed to be so trivial in comparison. I'd look at his head and say, "It's just a normalsized head. How could all those ideas come out of a normal-sized head?"

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Friday, November 18--Warren

I had a fun morning at WRIF radio. The show's guest host was Bill Engvall, a comedian I first met years ago in Dallas. As we were exchanging phone numbers, I noticed that Bill was left-handed. Maybe that's what keeps comedians together; we've got a left-handed way of looking at life in a right-handed world. After the radio interview, Leonard Palermino, the club owner, dropped me back at my hotel with a few helpful tips: "There's a mall up the road and there's a cinema up a little farther with about thirteen movies." Then he drove off.

Well, it doesn't look like I'm going to be a big draw here in Warren. I had a small audience for the first show, so I geared down and had a more conversational style with them. The room seemed more like a friend tonight as well. When you're in a club three or four days, you get a certain sense of the room, the acoustics, the feel when you walk in.

Attendance for the second show was bad. Some of the things that knocked people out in the first show didn't work at all in the second show. Man! They've got me puzzled. I feel like a pitcher who has run into a team that can flat-out hit his stuff.

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Friday, November 25--Lake Tahoe

I flew up with the Pointer Sisters. When we drove up to Caesars Tahoe, where we're appearing, I saw that my first name was misspelled on the marquee. That's hardly the least of it. Tonight there was a whole table of drunks right up front. Why do drunks always sit up front? It's like they say, "Wanna get drunk?"

"Yeah."

"Well, in that case, we'd better sit up front, so we can fuck up the show."

As the opening act, I did 20 minutes. They're very strict about time here in the casinos--the shows run like clockwork. The minute I jumped off the stage, the Pointer Sisters were poised backstage ready to hit.

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Saturday, November 26--Lake Tahoe

I had an attack of indigestion right before the second show. I took an AlkaSeltzer, but when I walked out on stage, I was in agony. Any movement really agitated my stomach, so I tried to just stand there and do witty lines. I kept looking for the one-minute warning spotlight, but the pain got worse, until I finally said, "Thank you and good night," about five minutes early. This was only the second time in my career that I've been too sick to finish a show. I got sick five or six years ago working for Grace Jones in front of an audience composed of freaks and troglodytes. Boy, was that hell! I was so sick I had to actually be helped off the stage.

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Tuesday, December 6--Los Angeles

Today I talked with Marla Kell Brown, Arsenio's producer. She informed me that they had set their writing staff and that I would not be on it. I was stunned. After our meeting, I was sure that everything was settled. Marla told me that that was her impression as well but that Arsenio had reservations later. "He respects and admires you so much, he would feel uncomfortable telling you that anything you submitted to him wasn't funny," she told me. What a bizarre compliment. He respects me too much to pay me? I don't know what to make of it. I wish they had told me earlier. I had already notified my agents that I would be tied up starting in January, so I don't have any club work scheduled. I've got to get Bernie on the phone and see if he can line up some clubs for next year, before they get booked too far in advance. I'm calling Arsenio to find out what went wrong.

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Monday, December 19--Los Angeles

Still no word from Arsenio. I've placed five calls without a return. I tried to watch some of Bob Hope's special. Couldn't do it. They don't have TV this bad in Italy.

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Wednesday, December 21--Los Angeles

My manager Ben notified me that I've got a Tonight Show set for the 28th and that I'll join Johnny on the panel after my stand-up. I haven't done much panel, and it has hurt me. Panel is where you establish your personality, or at least give the illusion of having a personality. I'm even going to play my clarinet at the end.

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Tuesday, December 27--Los Angeles

I worked out at The Improv to tighten up my set for The Tonight Show tomorrow. What I do is a loose 20 minutes from which I'll pick the six minutes I need for the show. After my set, I joined comedians Jerry Seinfeld, Jeff Cesario and my friend Bill Jones to sit around and shoot the breeze. The conversation turned to dating waitresses. Jeff says that he doesn't date waitresses anymore, because the conversation drives him nuts. Jerry complained that he's tired of saying, "So how did you do tonight? Did they tip good?" I told Jerry, a workaholic who travels 300 days a year and never takes a vacation, that I hadn't been on a stage in a month. "You're the anti-me," he said.

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Wednesday, December 28--Burbank

I couldn't sleep. I got up at seven a.m. I'm always edgy the day of a Tonight Show taping. All day I'm preoccupied--running my material through my head constantly. The Tonight Show with Johnny is the comedian's Wimbledon.

I did The Tonight Show and everything went well, except that the show ran long and I didn't get a chance to play my clarinet. I watched Johnny interview the actress Catherine Hicks, who was obviously nervous. He really is a good interviewer. He listens, he takes his time and is still involved in the moment--after 25 years, yet.

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Saturday, December 31--Cleveland

Hilarities--that's the name of the club. The New Year's Eve show was, of course, a big party. My last gig of the year has now ended, and 1989 beckons. I'm not one for New Year's resolutions. My only resolution each year is to do everything that I can to be around for the next year. With the Arsenio situation falling through, I've had to scramble. I've notified my voice-over and acting agents that I'm going to be in town, so that I can be sent out on auditions.

I'm at a crossroads about what I should pursue next year. The social value of making people laugh cannot be denied. But for me, the challenge of stand-up is gone, and I think I'm rebelling against the constant pressure to be good. In some shows, there are moments when I'll have a real sense of exhilaration. At those times, I'll say to myself, "Boy, this is a great way to make a living." But sometimes I wonder if stand-up can express all I want to say. I've got some film ideas that are crying to be developed, and now I'll have time to work on them.

After a sabbatical, I've decided to re-enter the "wonderful and cruel work of woman," as my golfing partner Glenn likes to call it. I think about settling down in some way, but for that to happen, I'll need confidence in my mate's character. There's so much smoke and illusion here in Los Angeles that it's hard to find people who believe in a basic bedrock honesty. That's one of the reasons that I like comedians. There's a certain level of integrity there, a sense of right and wrong. It's so easy to deal with people like that. But then again, what else would you expect from people who have a left-handed view of life?