The Seattle open mic played a huge role in my development.  When I started in Seattle, it was a common belief that you were never too good for open mic and should always be generating new material – so everyone hung out, regardless of level.  There also wasn't a county divide between Seattle and Tacoma – it was all the same thing. Either you were a comic or you weren't.  You had an incredibly diverse group of comics with 20 years of experience to watch and learn from. All of them were different from each other but had mastered their own style of comedy.  This is part of why new Seattle comics got funny a lot faster – you had tons of comics secure in their careers offering guidance, encouragement and ball busting – a lot of ball busting, which is good because it built up the thickness of your skin.  

Open mic was also your first stop from the road. Cell phones and the internet weren't widely used so if you wanted to know what was going on in the constantly evolving scene then you were wise to stop by open mic.  Sitting in the "cave" of the underground, comics chain-smoked, drank, swapped their new road stories and gave out bookers' info.  There was a huge turf war between Giggles and the Undergrounds, the only clubs at the time, but even the owner of Giggles would stop in from time to time.  I equate it to a dysfunctional family: you really had to fuck up to not be welcome. 

I didn't know how amazing my comedy community was until I started touring the country and moved multiple times, immersing myself in other scenes.  It wasn't even close to what we call an "A room" but I still believe it's the best club in the country – especially since you were never censored. The club never paid weekend acts well but the audiences were smart and savvy – which meant at least once a year, a legendary act would stop by to work on their material for an upcoming special or release. I could NOT have been more grateful to work with those comics.

I remember Brad Upton saying, "Enjoy these years. They don't get better than this."

I didn't know what Brad meant but looking back, this was before we added financial problems, career paths, failed relationships, children and turf wars into the mix.  Now camaraderie and the excitement of a new, untested joke can keep you in the game, but it isn't what cures your ails the way it did during open mic.

Since I moved, the scene has been in a constant state of change, as it was when I lived there.  So generally when I go home, I'll host open mic on Sunday or Monday and invite comics to hang out.  It's still the fastest way to catch up with old friends, meet new comics and try out a couple jokes. With the Comedy Underground closed for seismic retrofitting (temporarily relocated to the Admiral Theater for weekends only), it's thrown a huge kink in the scene.

So we had a BBQ in Seattle for comedians.

The General Manager of Comedy Underground and producer of the Seattle International Standup Comedy Competition (also quite a new mover in shaker in Hollywood as a manager) offered up his house.  Angela, co-owner of Laughs Comedy in Club in Kirkland, WA, showed up with all sorts of party assistance, even wiping down all of the patio furniture.  When having problems with wiping down a chair, she said, "Well, that's good enough," she said, "for comics anyway." 

Spoken like only a booker can.

It was awesome that multiple touring comics stopped by to soak up some camaraderie. 

I was ecstatic to see some of the area's "Comedy Masters" that I see too little of.  Thanks to these people, I was getting paid spots during my first year and featuring on the road during my second year.   Here are a few stories about how they affected my early career.  This of course doesn't include tons of great comics that weren't able to attend that I watched and learned from – including Portland's headliners.

I know it's long, you don't have to read it!

Ron Reid, Angela and comics

Beka

It was fun until SHE showed up.

Bob Bailey, III

I don't have a particular story about Bob but I would like to point out that you can always count on a variety act to entertain the kids.

Peggy Platt

With an extensive background in theater, commercial work and comedy, Peggy Platt is the only woman to ever win the Seattle comedy competition for nearly three decades and running.  When I first started, I would ask all of the headliners if there was anything I could do to improve.  She was kind enough to heap oodles of pointers, tips and feedback every time I got off stage - things that would have never occurred to me on my own.  I was always amazed by how completely brilliant her advice was. The endless guidance really drove home how much I had to consider and learn.  From how I stood, spoke, timing, delivery, wording and expressions.  There were nights where I had to take notes.  While some comics will tell you how to be just like them, Peggy gave me options that helped me figure out who I was.  When I did my first taping, Peggy even told me how to apply my makeup so I wasn't a featureless face on tape – which hadn't even occurred to me. Then I opened for her at the Underground.  I was looking forward to it since she'd been gone for a while doing a play.  The first night, I got off stage after an awesome set.  I marched right over to her and said, "Any thoughts?"  She put a finger to her lips, thought for a while and said, "More blush. Other than that, I think you're all set."

Brad Upton

Brad Upton performs nationwide, writes for tv and is a frequent guest on NPR. He packs laughs per minute like few performers can and I've never seen him say an unnecessary word.  Brad is – in all areas of comedy - an expert and consummate professional. 

On one occasion, he taught me not to be an asshole – and I'll never forget it. 

My friends and I had gotten pretty cocky at open mic.  A comic was bombing on stage and according to local estimates; they'd bombed show after show - for years.  We inexcusable assholes were so wrapped up in berating every awkward moment and failed punch line that we were completely unaware Brad was having a beer at the table behind us.  "I've heard enough!"  He said. Brad tore us apart loudly enough that everyone except the audience and comic overheard.  "I am SO sick of you snot-nosed, pretentious, second rate, open mic comics. None of you have the determination that they have.  You think you're better than them just because you can get laughs?  You've never told a joke that didn't get laughs?  You think you're funnier than them?  You think you can write a better joke for that punch line? Then get a pen and write it down and give to them, you assholes."

By time Brad was done, we were slunk in our chairs, covering our faces and could not have been more embarrassed.  We immediately began choruses of, "Sorry, Mr. Upton," in unison.

He only yelled, "Don't apologize to ME. Apologize to THEM," and walked off.

That night I had to go home and reevaluate whether or not we were good people.  After that, instead of criticizing comics' acts, we watched to see if we could help improve them.  I realized the funnier all of us were, the better it made all of us look as a scene.

Then years later, I went through the worst bombing streak ever. I moved to the east coast and bombed on national shows 6 days a week (plus two shows on Fridays and Saturdays) for 3 weeks before ever getting ONE laugh.  Remembering that comic actually inspired me to keep going.  At that point, I suddenly felt grateful and lucky to have a strong support system of comics in Seattle that encouraged me – otherwise, I would have quit.

Even after that night, he was still cool enough to teach me how to make the leap from open mic to paid comic.  He referred me some of my first paid gigs and taught me how to get myself hired by helping me put together my first bio and resume.  He also taught me how to avoid getting fired by telling me what not to wear, when to show up, what material was unacceptable and to always tip.  Brad really stressed having pride in your scene and remembering that when you leave, you represent it.

Although, it's still pretty funny to watch someone eat it - especially Beka, who bombed so badly she placed in the top 5 in Oregon last week.

Cliff Barnes

Sometimes I think Cliff Barnes is a comic trapped in a blues musician's body. He performed less and less when I started but was extremely supportive, always with a beer in hand, laughing distinctly as he wandered in and out of the clubs' showroom.

I first started telling jokes at Giggles but if you tell anyone that, I will deny it violently.  My first couple months were beyond difficult. One night during my first month or two on stage, my writing had improved but my stage presence hadn't and I was excited to finally get consistent laughs. As I stood on stage, I delivered set ups and was horrified as someone else delivered the punch line from the pitch darkness of the audience – word for word, exactly what I planned to say.  Joke after joke, there wasn't one punch line that guy didn't see coming and stole the laughs right from under me.  Finally, I asked if he'd seen me before.

"Nope," He said and then chuckled. "Never seen you before… first time..."

I recognized the chuckle.  I said, "Wait, aren't you a comic?"

"Yup.  Cliff Barnes," he laughed, "Nice to meet you."

Oh, I was pissed.  "Why are you yelling out my punch lines if you're a comic?  Shouldn't you know better? I spend all week working on these and then you ruin my jokes."

As Cliff started to leave the showroom he tipped his beer up to me and said, "Then write some better jokes."

We had a great conversation afterwards and I worked furiously to write jokes so that Cliff couldn't see the punch line coming. He was my first "Hack Checker" and probably the sole reason I try to stay away from easy laughs. 

I was also shaking violently from the knees and either talking like I was lecturing or reciting a Miss America platform.  I was SO uncomfortable on stage and couldn't be myself.  It was aggravating.  I told him. "It's like the moment I get out of my car, I morph into someone else. Like, there's someone in the car that refuses to come in the club. I can't figure it out. It's so weird."  

With Cliff's encouragement and promise that more stage time would fix it, I kept at it.  He was there the night I finally got comfortable on stage – and that alone tripled my laughs. 

Afterwards he said, "Looks like somebody got that bitch of out the car!"

Another comic that overheard that and said, "What bitch? What car? What?"

Long and Sorbo

Cathy Sorbo

I've never met anyone like Sorbo in almost ten years of doing standup nationwide.  She brings grass roots flavors to the Seattle scene, doing off-beat standup that can't be imitated or described, writes columns for the Seattle PI, a musical Christmas show, self-produced one woman shows and announces for the Rat City Roller Girls' - all in the best hair and makeup EVER.

She was on maternity leave when I started so I didn't know her until she called to invite me to do her upcoming show on March 15^th, "Beware the Brides of March".  While I had starting working as a comic during my first year, the idea of producing a show hadn't crossed my mind – I just went wherever the bookers told me to go and made whatever they paid me.  I also had no idea how to promote or produce a show.  She kept me involved in the entire process by copying me on emails, press releases, taking me to radio stations and even letting me do radio – which was a big deal for me then.  She explained door deals and other aspects to me.  While flyering and doing radio, she also told me some fantastic stories about fighting for equality that blew my mind.  I needed headshots and wanted to know where she got her amazing ones done and who did her hair and makeup for it.  She did all of it one day when she was bored. She also had a brand new baby with her most of the time and was riding the bus.  Doing that one show with Cathy made me realize that I had to work a lot harder – a lot, lot, lot harder – and I hadn't even seen her perform yet.

Before she went on stage, another comic walked up to me and said, "Have you ever seen her before?  She has a 15 minute bit on butter. Not butter on toast, not what you can do with butter… it's just about butter. That's it: butter.  I can't describe it; you'll have to see it.  It's hilarious."

While I haven't implemented it as much as I want to, I learned from Sorbo to take risks, be boundless, promote yourself, take your career into your own hands and don't take any wooden nickels.

Rod Long

During my first couple years, I probably worked the most gigs with Rod Long, amazing photographer, comedian, author and personality.  He gave me a lot of pointers also. Where Upton kept me from getting fired, Rod kept me from getting KILLED as I bumbled my way through my first 30 minute feature spots and hecklers.  Watching Rod, I learned that any show can be saved, no matter how unpredictable the audiences, venues and bookers are.  Rod watched my sets, offered guidance and taught me how to read the room BEFORE going onstage so you can control the room– which was good, because I was usually in a dead panic over whatever curveball we'd been thrown.  He also helped me figure out how to adjust material to fit each audience.

I also learned a ton watching Rod enhance well-written jokes with facial expressions and impeccable timing.  He taught me that if you think it's funny, then it is and if the audience isn't laughing then you just aren't conveying it correctly.  He lead by example, making jokes relatable to all audiences.  I don't know jack shit about sports but always laughed at his sports jokes. 

Later after giving me tons of advice about moving to the east coast he added, "Oh and get a good coat. It's fucking freezing over there." 

Carl Warmenhoven – "The Ass Man"

The Underground's "Ass Man" had stopped doing comedy and started running the two open mic nights.  He also writes a lot of the pre-show announcements, keeping them funny, original and current.  Newbies could read copies of his "Suggestions from the Ass Man" and "Carl's Quick, Cheap Course in Comedy" to help them improve faster.   He offered relevant stories, information and on occasion, a tag for bits people were working on.  He also kept a bulletin board with comedy news.

Carl talked me into emceeing.  I'd been telling jokes for less than six months and I really didn't want to. He gave me his emcee notes which gave me a sense of what to do and not do when hosting.  It gave me more opportunities for stage time and taking the bullet made me a stronger comic.  It also moved me quickly into paid gigs and opportunities to befriend national comics.   

Other headliners gave me more pointers, which when I least expected it, gave me an edge over other comics in the future.  As Kermet Apio once told me, "You're never really done being an emcee and it comes in handy, so keep those skills sharp."  This is part of why I always try to emcee open mic when I go home.  

We also had a lot of talks about what it was like "in the real world" of comedy that made me use my open mic time a lot more wisely in preparation.  When I moved, he wrote a bit "How Alysia Wood is like June Cleaver" and it's one of the funniest things I'd ever heard. 

Carl's announcements always make me laughs before I go on stage.  I know I'm home when I hear him say, "Now welcome to the stage, the mistress of mirth…"