Showtime recently ran a five-part documentary-type series on The Comedy Store, a place where I logged many hours during its earlier — and more interesting than it is now — days. The five parts do not seem to be scheduled for more runs right now but will surely be back and they're available for online streaming and such. I had a very mixed reaction to it…which may be entirely appropriate since I had a very mixed reaction to The Comedy Store and how it was run during its days of glory.
The place made a lot of great careers; no doubt about that. It also made a lot of low-level ones possible. I said this on several occasions and I'm not sure if I said it first or was repeating what someone else said…but to succeed in that environment, you had to be either (a) really, really good on stage or (b) adequate on stage and really, really good at kissing butt.
And of course, The Store ended at least a thousand times as many careers as it helped. There's no way of accurately gauging the number but I'd be fascinated to know how many wanna-be comedy stars were in roughly this position: They wanted to be George Carlin or Richard Pryor or someone like that. They may or may not have done some performing in way-outta-the-way places that made them think their goal was not unreachable. They rearranged their lives so they could move out to Los Angeles, get a cheap apartment and start competing for stage time at The Store…
…and before long, they were heading back to Louisville to take that job at their uncle's store and to figure out what to say to all those folks they'd told, "Next time you see me, I'll be on The Tonight Show."
You could look at that as Natural Selection, Survival of the Fittest, "they weren't funny enough," whatever…and you'd be right most of the time. But it did strike me in my days 'round The Store as a rare didn't-wanna-be-on-stage observer that a certain amount of regulars there weren't funny enough but they were good at kissing butt. Or painting Mitzi's porch.
Mitzi Shore, who owned and ran The Comedy Store, was a fascinating figure and I'll bet someday we see a movie or mini-series with someone playing her. Her family's name is all over the credits of this five-parter and it was produced and directed by Mike Binder, a real nice guy who owed much to Mitzi. So you'd expect it to be slanted in her direction and much of it was, especially the segment on The Comedy Store Strike.
But there were a few surprising exceptions. And of course, the focus was on the guys who made it really big elsewhere. (I don't think a couple of the guys — Richard Pryor for one — owed as much of his success to The Store as the documentary made out. If anything, I think The Store owed much of its success to guys like Pryor.)
I didn't get along with Mitzi but I also didn't not get along with Mitzi. We were introduced a half-dozen times and she never remembered my name. That never bothers me and I only mention it because I believe it was for an interesting reason. With her, everything seemed transactional: It was all about what she could do for you in exchange for what you could do for her. I didn't want anything from her and she didn't seem to relate to people like that.
She did a great job running The Store and exploiting the fact that for a while, it truly was The Road to Stardom for some people. That's "some." Not "all," not even "most." If the subject interests you, I suggest you watch all five parts or none of them because the whole thing paints a more accurate picture than any one part. But I think it's also a much bigger story than could be told in five hours.