Eighteen Years and a Few Wars Later…

Published by Rick on Tagged Uncategorized

I can’t even remember if I’ve talked before about where I was or what I was doing on that infamous date in history, though I can be certain that when it actually happened, I was still asleep. I didn’t wake up until about 7:30 LA time that day, by which time it was already 10:30 in New York, and both towers had been hit. I had no idea until I turned on my computer and the first image was that of the burning towers, which hadn’t collapsed yet. So after a big “what the fuck?” I immediately turned on the TV, and there was history being made in a less than glorious way.

After a whole day of watching the news, I remember deciding to go to the beach for no other reason than it seemed a nice tranquil place to be to watch the sunset. I was concerned of course about my relatives who lived and worked in Manhattan, but after a few calls, everyone was accounted for. I had one relative who opted not to go to work that day in what could have been a life-saving decision, and the father of my then-girlfriend got word just as he was heading into the City, and went back home.

I found it amusing that poor George W. was in a primary school in Florida reading the book “My Pet Goat” to a class, when he was informed of what had happened. He did what I probably would have done, which was to finish reading the book and panic later. It was probably the only time during his eight years in the White House that I almost empathised with him. And even though he made himself scarce, suddenly being unreachable for a few hours, his approval ratings soared in the aftermath. Gosh, even Rudy Giuliani was liked for a short time there, but only because he was Mayor, surely not because of the “great intellect” he’s shown over the past couple years.

For people in my profession, there was the dilemma of how to address this issue and let the audience know your heart was with those who suffered, but also to say dammit, we’re alive and we can’t mourn forever. The first night I worked (comedy clubs in LA were closed until the following weekend; 9/11 happened on a Tuesday, in case we all forgot) was Saturday the 16th, and I was worried about being relevant. I was booked at The Laugh Factory in Hollywood, and wanted to say something of depth and meaning, but when I got there, the comics were just going for the usual dick jokes, pretending that the previous Tuesday hadn’t happened. That made my decision easy, even though I felt silly talking about music at a time like this.

Then there was the decision after a month or so to actually address the issue in my act. I had been working in UK for most of 2001, and thankfully, had gotten back to LA three days before 9/11, or I might have been detained at least a couple weeks, possibly without any work. The material I was looking for actually came about a week after, seeing a list of songs that had been temporarily scrapped from radio playlists as the subject matter was too close to home. Songs like “Leaving On A Jet Plane” or “Jet” by Paul McCartney were among the 100 or so songs listed, so I began looking for songs that were omitted. The two I didn’t find anywhere were “I Believe I Can Fly,” and the real capper, “It’s Raining Men.” I tried it out on a few friends, including my agent, and they all laughed, but decided to wait until I was back in the UK to actually try it out on an audience, as they’d be a little less affected.

I waited almost two months before trying it on stage, but other comics there were addressing the issue, so I proceeded to use the above observation as well as other commentary. I got my first “negative review” in April 2002 by some very drunk girl in Cardiff, who got in my face with the usual “How dare you! I had friends who were there,” and blah blah, but one thing I never did in my whole career was apologise for anything I said, and I wasn’t going to start then. Then just before Christmas 2002, I incurred the wrath of some New Yorkers in London who gave me grief, to which I said, “You don’t like it, tell the management.” They did exactly that, and management totally backed me on it, telling them, “The sign on the door says comedy club, but we don’t scrutinise what is said on stage. He may have offended you, but we’ve seen him get laughs with that material, so we back him.”

What finally made me give up the bit, and we’re talking into summer of 2003 now, was an incident at Jongleurs venue in Camden that I wasn’t even aware of until after I’d gotten offstage. I had noticed a bit of a flurry off to my left, and saw the show manager, who was about 7 months pregnant, trying to placate a guy who was making a stink about something, but I didn’t realise it was me until I walked off and a woman said to me, “I can’t believe you’d make fun of 9/11,” to which I said, “That’s not what I was fucking doing.” The club manager then came backstage and said that I’d need to wait around for awhile until he was sure the offended parties had left, as he thought there was a threat of violence. I found that ludicrous, but acquiesced.

I was then, and have always been, proud of everything I said or did on stage, and certain aspects of 9/11 were fair game for comedic commentary. I’m glad I never got punched out, but one of my colleagues from my UK work in those days was the Australian comic Jim Jefferies, whose career was given a big boost after a YouTube video was posted of him getting attacked on stage at the Comedy Store in Manchester. He’s now internationally known, and especially big in the US. I was just content to continue making a living.

September 11th, 2019



Leave a Comment

You must be logged in to post a comment.