Read It's So Hard To Type With A Gun In My Mouth Online
Authors: Steve Bluestein
So we get back and Nancy tells me the reports of the show are good. "Do you think I'll work with Mac again."? And she just laughed and mumbled something about Mac and Jews. I did not work with him again. But I think I got something more than a job that night, I got a direction for my life.
Now here are two interesting postscripts.
My neighbor was always begging me to bring her back something from the road. So
before I left Kansas, I bought a box of corn dogs right off the fairway. I brought them
over to her and they were still warm. "Where did you get these?" she asked. All I said
was, "Kansas" as I walked away.
About five months ago I was filling my car with gas when I looked up and across the
island saw Mac Davis doing the same to his car. Do I talk to him? What the hell. "Mac, I
opened for you at the Kansas State Fair and you changed my life." "Really, what's your
name?" And I told him; we shook hands and he finished pumping gas as if I just told him
the sky is blue. I guess he was right, no one cares.
Ain't my life fun!
JULY 22,2006 -
JIM BAILEY
Once I got working on the road opening for big name acts, I worked nonstop for years. I was at the top of my game and nothing frightened me. And so I opened for Jim Bailey. Who? Jim Bailey. He was the first drag queen to do national TV... Carol Burnett discovered him/her and put him/her on her show. The public had never seen an act like this before and so Jim worked a lot doing his illusions of Judy Garland, Peggy Lee, etc.
So they book him in Evansville, Indiana, Evansville home of the cow pucky. Evansville, a small town in the middle of nowhere, filled with people who date their cousins.... and now a drag queen comes to town. Do you see where I'm going here? Cows, these people knew from cows. They had a Marriott or a Holiday Inn, which had a showroom, a effing showroom in Evansville, Indiana!!! These venues don't work in New York, Chicago and LA but some builder decides to put a showroom in Evansville, Indiana. There's a developer I want to meet. "Ya know what we need? A place where farmers can see men dressed as women." I want some of his drugs.
Let me explain how Jim works. The show is in three parts. Jim opens the show with Judy Garland, then the comedian comes on (while Jim changes his costume) and then Jim comes back as himself. (Wearing more make-up than the REAL Judy Garland).
It's opening night and I want to see his show. While I never see my opening act I always see the act of the headliner I'm opening for. I'm sitting in the audience and Jim is on stage as Judy Garland. The illusion is incredible it's like watching the real thing. I'm seated in front of two elderly women, with grey hair who have just finished rotating the crops. They both look like Superman's mother in little floral print dresses clutching their brown leather purses. I hear the first lady say. "What a wonderful show." And the second lady responds, "I don't know why but I thought she was dead." To which the first lady responds, "Don't be an idiot, that's her daughter." And now I know why the duck effing jokes won't work. These people did not have a clue. Jim finishes his first set and I run backstage and do my 30 minutes. I now knew my audience and homogenized my set. Huge laughs. Ok, so now Jim comes out and I run back to the idiot twins to see what they're gonna say now. "Who's this guy?" "I don’t know, BRING BACK LIZA." People, I swear to you it took every ounce of strength I had to get out of the showroom without screaming in the middle of Jim's set.
So that's how it went all week. The shows were good; the days were a nightmare. Even without make up, Jim looked like he had makeup on. And you can't go to the mall looking like that in Evansville, Indiana... not without a lynching party. We stayed very close to the hotel.. ha...hotel. I called down for extra towels and was told "We'll get you some as soon as Becky gets back from the depot." I was in Hootersville.
Now it starts to get good. A waitress at the showroom develops a crush on Jim. Honey, try hitting on dead people, you'll have more luck. But she had a full on crush, brought him flowers, sent him love notes. I was sitting at the table when she came over in tears... "Why won't he answer my letters." Ah... because he takes it up the old chocolate highway? The girl was a raving lunatic. Finally it was up to me to break the news to her... "Jim is married." "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I thought something was wrong with me?" Duh, you're falling in love with a drag queen... red flag... red flag.
This goes on for a week. It's closing night or thereabouts. Jim does his Judy Garland and I follow with my 30 minutes. I'm just about to say good night when I see Jim's orchestra leader in the wings doing the "stretch" sign. I do another fifteen minutes; he's still stretching. I do another fifteen; he's still stretching... I've done an hour and fifteen he's still stretching. Now I'm doing every knock-knock joke I've ever heard, I'm doing jokes I remember from college, I start telling joke my father told me...he's still stretching. I was at almost a hour and three quarters when I looked at the audience and said... "How long does it take to get out of a dress?" They screamed. And then I said, "I've done my show and every joke in the JOEL MCCRAY SONG BOOK... I'm finished but they want me to stay on stage so I'll stay on stage." I looked over and there was a magazine on the piano. I picked it up and began reading... I flipped the pages in true comic fashion. They were laughing long and hard. I rip out a page, look at the audience, "Coupons". I do everything with this magazine but fuck it and finally I get the "get off" signal. I close the magazine, look off stage but say into the mike, "He's ready?" and nod. I turn to the audience and as big as I could say, 'THANK YOU, THE TIME JUST FLEW." I get a standing ovation.
As I'm leaving the stage, Jim passes me. "Sorry. Judy was giving me a hard time." And I play the Looney Tunes Song in my head.
SAD SIDE NOTE
The week after we close the entire Evansville College Basketball Team was killed in a plane crash. I sent the mayor of the city a telegram telling him how sorry I was for the town's loss because, although I poked fun at them, as I do in the
book, those people were good, honest Americans who were a joy to be around. I was truly sorry for their loss.
Post Script
Years after opening for Jim in Evansville, the Indianapolis Comedy Store opens and I meet Chic and Patti Perrin, the club owners. I had been on the road for years at this point and met a lot of club owners... there was never anyone like Chic and Patti, nor will there ever be. They loved the comedians and adopted some of us as family. They cared about the shows, they were fair and warm people and whenever business was good, Patti always put a little extra in our paycheck, unheard of!!! Chic and Patti are the only people from those Comedy Club days that I still keep in touch with... along with Bob and Tom and a few other Indianapolis types. I love that part of the country so much that I actually thought about moving there... until I got my medications corrected. They have snow!
Post Post Script
I also worked Merryville, Indiana with Dinah Shore. OH GOD WHAT A CAREER.
JULY 23, 2006 -
DAVID COPPERFIELD
And yet another celebrity story came back to me like a burp after corned beef. David Copperfield...
I was working at The Turn of the Century in Denver with Lola Falana. To give you an idea how old this story is, they are both no longer working. Lola was a joy to work with, sweet, charming and lots of fun off stage. With the luck of the draw, she contracted M.S. Another career cut short. Anyway, we were closing in a couple of days and David Copperfield was opening after us. I had never heard of him and probably would not have if the owner of the club had not said to me, "Hey, Steve, look at this." And he holds up my 8 x 10 and then next to it holds up David's. We looked exactly the same in the photo, same Tuxedo, same pose, same hair. Now in real life we look nothing alike but those two photos made us look like brothers.
The very next night David comes in to the club to see our show. He comes backstage and we joke about being related. David has come to Denver a few days early to receive his shipment of illusions. He has free time and we hang out the next day. He's like an old friend; we immediately click. He's just a nice normal guy and there is no show biz bullshit. To prove that we are not the same person we take a picture together both doing the same magic pose. We exchange numbers and we'll connect in LA.
When I get to LA I give him a call. He invites me over to his place. At that time he was living in the Hollywood Hills on or off a street called Tower. It was called Tower because the only way you could get to his house was via a tower, which held an elevator. It's been used in several films. OK, so David has just broken up with his girlfriend and the place is almost empty: mattress on the floor, sofa and TV. That's all. Rather stark surroundings for an up and coming star. But what I've learned is the real stars become stars because they are fixated on their careers and nothing else. I was always collecting art or buying houses. David was looking for new illusions. I was once told that if I spent as much time on my career as I did on my homes, I would be a star. They were probably right.
On stage David is this handsome, sophisticated, suave illusionist. Off stage he was like your old Jewish cousin. He walked slumped over and he dragged his feet in sort of a shuffle. Off stage he's the kid you used to beat up after school. On stage he's the matinee idol woman faint over. I once said to him, "I could ruin your career with one call to the Inquirer because this debonair, crafty magician is actually a schlep in real life." He laughed.
David and I remained friends for a few years but as happens, our careers took us in different directions and we drifted apart. But we liked each other and phoned every so often. Then I get a phone call from him one day, "I'm doing a special, got any ideas" And I say to him, "You're such a classy act why don't you make a Rolls Royce or a Limo or a Ferrari disappear." There is quiet on the other end and all he says is "Thanks." I later hear he's done just that. To be fair, I don't know if that conversation spawned the illusion. We never talked about it. But the following year I get another call from him. "Steve, got any more ideas? I'm doing a special in New York." And without a beat I say, "Why don't you make the Rockettes disappear" "The Rockettes? Humm." Next special he makes the Statue of Liberty disappear. I take full credit for that. Not.
David becomes a huge star. He's a bankable draw in Vegas. He's dating international models and flying here and there to do shows to sold out houses. He's crossed over into the big time. I see him interviewed on TV about his warehouse of illusions. He collects vintage illusions and has millions of dollars in equipment. I'm happy for him because you always want to see friends do well.
Then comes Rick Marcelli's wedding. At one point Rick had managed both David and myself so I knew I would be seeing David at the wedding and I was really happy. I hadn't seen him in years. I arrive at the wedding and sure enough there is David. He's standing with a gorgeous blonde and three or four men. I go over to him. "David. How the hell are ya?" He looks over. "Hello, Steve." (Excuse me is there a chill in the air?) "How have you been, David?" And the man standing next to him says, "David's been fine." Huh? "Are you in town long? When's the next special." And the man says "We're opening in Vegas next week and the special doesn't shoot for a month." I'm beginning to understand what's going on. David does not talk anymore. One more try. "Where are you staying." And the man says, "We're at... and he gives the name of the hotel." And I've had it. "Ok, David, nice to see you again." The man says, "Thank you." And I walk away. The magic is gone trust me.
I just don't know how people change that much. But they do. They change and it upsets me. I have been taught that I am no more important than the person who cleans my toilets. As a matter of fact, that person is probably a lot more important cause I sure as hell ain't sticking my hand in the crapper. But I have seen it time and time again people who have achieved stardom become aloof and distant. I just don't get it. When you're famous is when you're supposed to be the most open. It's the time when you're making big bucks and should be happiest... but in some cases they appear to be inward driven and close off. How sad is that?
Have I told you I feel like I'm trapped in show business? If I could think of something else I could do I would be doing it. But I have no skills, or shall I say I have skills but not those that will be usable in the real word. SOMEBODY ON THIS SHIT WHEEL HIRE ME FOR SOMETHING OTHER THAN COMEDY!