by
My college roommates (I'm the one with the baseball glove)
In 1975, from the time it debuted, I became smitten with Saturday Night Live. The talent, the irreverence, the entertainment, the political satire, the music, made it a must watch.
I was a student at Michigan State when it first aired. And while the 11:30 p.m. time slot on Saturday night often competed with the party schedule and late night runs for grinder sandwiches at Bell’s Pizza on MAC Ave., I tried to watch it as often as possible.
John Belushi, Gilda Radner, Chevy Chase, Dan Akroyd, Garrett Morris, Jane Curtin, Laraine Newman. The original cast was brilliant.
Dream Jobs
I thought one of my dream jobs would be to write for SNL. I grew up watching the Dick Van Dyke Show. Dick Van Dyke, aka Rob Petrie and fellow writers sat in a Manhattan office and thought of humor for the weekly "Alan Brady Show." At some point, the donut cart would come by.
Wow. I thought, comedy writing and donuts, what a great way to make a living. And I figured SNL was as good a place as any to fulfill that dream.
I bring this all up because of SNL’s 50th anniversary special on Sunday at 8 p.m. I can’t wait.
But let me continue.
Journalism remained my first passion. But comedy wasn’t far behind. In fact, in kindergarten, during Show and Tell, I told some jokes. The first one went over pretty well: "What did the big chimney say to the little chimney?" Answer: "You’re too young to smoke."
I got a laugh. I was on a roll. The next day, when it came my turn to speak, I really didn’t have another joke, so I made one up. "What did the big flag say to the little flag? “What?” the teacher asked. “You’re too young to wave,” I said.
My teacher started yelling at me: “Allan, if you don’t have anything to say, then don’t say it all.”
Message received. I worked on upping my game.
Fast forward to winter term of my senior year at MSU. My roommates arranged, without me asking, for me to do standup comedy one weekend night at the Peanut Barrel bar/restaurant on Grand River in East Lansing.
I agreed, but was nervous all week, and kept practicing my routine. I was supposed to perform at some point when the band took a break.
Show Time
Finally, Friday night came and the place was packed with some strangers, but mostly friends from MSU, Ann Arbor and Detroit. I didn’t get on stage until about midnight. In the meantime, I bounced around visiting friends, from table to table, each crammed with many pitchers of beer and peanuts.
Before I got on management insisted my act not include swearing. I agreed. But of course, when I got up there I violated that oath, repeatedly. Hey, I wasn't Lenny Bruce. I also wasn't Pat Boone.
The act went great. I got some good laughs, certainly more than at Show and Tell in kindergarten. But I wasn’t in any hurry to get back on stage. The whole experience, from practicing all week, to getting on stage, was a bit too intense.
Plus, I still loved journalism. After working for a year at a Detroit suburban paper, I got a job at The Oregonian in Portland, Or., covering Clackamas County, the equivalent of Macomb. In 1979, I kept thinking I should at least try for a job at SNL.
I reached out to my family. My cousin’s husband’s father was a prominent psychiatrist in New York who knew comedian Alan King. I asked if they could reach out to King and see if he could hook me up with an interview at SNL. I don’t remember all the details, but essentially, I was told to keep trying on my own.
I left Oregon in 1980 and traveled around the country for a few years, picking up temporary gigs in journalism. First I went to live with a childhood friend in Alexandria, Va., and freelanced for the Associated Press in D.C., covering a desegregation trial between the University of North Carolina and the Department of Education.
Heckling
Eddie Murphy as "Mr. Rogers"
I also checked out the comedy scene. One night I went with a friend to watch open mic night in D.C. Early in the evening, some top comedians got on stage to try new material. By 1 a.m., it was the bottom of the barrel. One young guy was truly horrible, and every time the audience moaned after he told a joke, he would say, “Hey, whatta ya expect, Vegas?”
At one point, he started telling a story about being on a date. He said he was trying everything to get the woman in his back seat.
I yelled out, “I hope you didn’t try to tell her joke.” I got a big laugh. He got mad and said, “You think you can do better?” to which I responded, “Yes!”
Around that time, I took a shot at open mic night at a bar in Arlington, Va. By the time I got on stage, there were probably only about 15 people. I did Ok. Not sure I brought the house down. Then again, there were only about 15 people.
I continued to move forward with my journalism career, working for Monthly Detroit magazine and then the Detroit News. It wasn’t until I went on strike at the News in 1995 that the comedy bug returned.
For one, the union was having a big fundraiser for the strike at the Majestic on Woodward in Midtown Detroit. We had all kinds of bands lined up and we also got filmmaker Michael Moore to appear. I was going to do a standup routine, but at the last moment, our emcee, if I recall correctly, DJ Peter Werbe, had to bow out. I thought Peter was one of more outstanding radio personalities in Detroit.
Trying Again
So, I took on the emcee job and split up my comedy act between band performances. It went well. At the same time, I thought it was time to check out SNL for a job.
I called my friend Chris Hansen, who was a reporter at NBC at the time, and asked if he had any connects with SNL. He hooked me up. I came to his office in Rockefeller Plaza in Manhattan and then hopped the elevator to the SNL office to drop off six skits I had written.
I walked into the small lobby, and there I was, looking at pictures of John Belushi and Gilda Radner hanging on the wall. I fantasized for a moment what it would be like to come to work there. (Live From New York! It's...)
I handed the skits in an 8x10 envelope to the woman behind the counter. She had me sign a release that essentially said if they accidentally, or perhaps intentionally, took my ideas, there was nothing I could do about it.
I waited a few weeks. I finally got a hold of one of top writers. He said something like, “yeah I could tell you were a writer., but you should apply to some of the new shows. ” Mmm. That sounded like a no-go.
From there I took those skits and revised them, with input from a couple funny friends.
Then I submitted them to Fax Bahr, the co-creator and show runner for the comedy show Mad TV. Fax had been a roommate at the University of Michigan with a close friend of mine. Fax read them and told me he thought they were funny. That was around February of 1997. Then he said to give him six more skits and he’d put them at the top of the pile of writers applying for the new season.
Shortly after, in March of 1997, I got hired by the Washington Post, and I thought I needed to give it my all to survive there. So, I dropped my pursuit of a job at Mad TV and never submitted the new skits.
So, Sunday night I’ll be glued to the TV watching the anniversary show.
Granted, over the years, the show hasn’t always been consistent and has gone through some ups and downs, humor wise. After some less-than stellar shows, my kindergarten teacher might have yelled at the staff. Then again, there were some extremely funny skits and cold openings over the many decades, not to mention a lot of great SNL Weekend Updates (my favorite part of the show).
All in all, SNL has been a venue for good humor, great talent and badly needed political satire. And while I never got to fulfill my dream of working there, I’m grateful it is still around after 50 years.
