Yesterday in the class I teach in Humor Writing at U.S.C., we somehow segued from talking about the current Writers Strike to discussing the Great Comedians Strike of 1979. That was when the comics working The Comedy Store, the Improv and a couple of other L.A. clubs decided it was time to demand payment for appearances which had previously been pro bono.
This article, excerpted from a new book by Richard Zoglin, will give you the basics. It's an accurate portrait to which I would add one point. If you're going to read it, read it first and then come back and read the rest of this post.
Okay, you're back. The thing I'd add is that at the core of the comedians' complaint was that they felt what they did — their product, if you will — was being seriously devalued. It's very much like the way cartoonists are always asked for free drawings by people who think it doesn't cost them anything to give away what they do for a living. The Comedy Store, which then as now was/is run by Mitzi Shore, was big news at the time — a lot of careers had been made there — and every newspaper article or TV feature seemed to be driving home the point that comedians worked for free; that professional comedy was not something a club owner or talent booker had to pay for.
Imitations of The Comedy Store were popping up all over the place. Entrepreneurs thought there was a gold mine there, especially since they wouldn't have to lay out money for their star attractions. There were all sorts of stories about night clubs that had previously hired musical acts, and now the owner thought, "Hey, let's stop paying musicians and bring in stand-up comedians. Comedians work for free!" I heard one comic telling others how he'd received an offer to go play a club that was opening in Bakersfield. The money offered was insulting and when he told the proprietor that, the guy responded, "Hey, you should be grateful I'm even offering anything. The Comedy Store doesn't pay you a cent."
If it had just been a matter of The Comedy Store not paying, it might not have been much of an issue. There was an undeniable value to playing there for some. But it was a matter of stand-up comedy everywhere being viewed as something that didn't warrant payment, no matter how much cash the club was raking in when you were on stage.
I was even affected by it. I was writing for a comedian friend who, to put it simply, couldn't afford to pay me. In fact, after he performed, we'd go down to Carney's just down the street from The Store for burgers, and I'd have to pay for us both; that's how broke the guy was. A year or two later, he began getting paying gigs and making a decent living…but for a time there, it was just insulting that he had to live the way he was living, having to promise me that some day, he'd pay me what he owed me. (He did, by the way.) During this poverty period, he had a hard time explaining to his family and friends why, if he had what looked like a job and if they had to pay to go see him, he had to borrow the money to just get some new clothes to wear on stage.
The strike was a nasty thing, as most strikes are. Ten years later at a party, a comedian who'd crossed the picket line and one who was on that picket line almost came to blows over it, and I can think of a few combinations I still wouldn't want to gather in the same room. And as with so many strikes, the outcome seemed inevitable…and you had to wonder why they had to go through all that to get to that point. Alas, because of human intransigence, it is sometimes necessary. When the current Writers Strike ends, we'll be pondering why they couldn't just have given us that same deal back in November and made it easier on everyone…including themselves.
By the way: Several folks have written to ask what I think about the premise that the current shows hosted by Leno, Stewart, Colbert and a few others are really being ad-libbed or written by their stars, and that no scabbing is going on. I think the premise is absurd and I'll write more about this in the next couple of days.