This Audience Is a Tough Act to Follow

“Come on in, man, come on in,” comedian/emcee Keith Morris calls out to the two police cars cruising by the Comedy Act Theater, which bills itself as “the country’s major black stand-up and improv comedy showcase.”

“We’ll take care of you, man, come on in,” beckons Morris, but the four cops just smile, shake their heads and wave. No way are they going for the bait. The cops are friendly, but they know better than to offer themselves up as targets to a couple dozen comedians.

“We would have cut them up,” says Morris with just a note of disappointment.

Comedians are fishers of material and to watch four juicy targets glide by without cutting loose the one stinging barb that would have brought the house down is a sorely missed opportunity. “We would cut them up good,” Morris repeats before returning to the subject at hand.

He’s been talking about comedy and the club while taking a break outside the Comedy Act Theater building in L.A.’s Leimert Park district, just east of Crenshaw Boulevard. “This crowd wants reality ,” says Morris of the 200 or so customers laughing inside. “White comedians do political jokes. Blacks and Latinos do reality jokes based on everyday life.”

Reality, as the comics perceive it, sometimes comes in the form of routines about the police, sharing clothes, food stamps, wearing a beeper in bed, Rodney King, Damian Williams’ lawyer or hair extensions.

But most of all, reality is in the form of jokes about sex. This is a subject the comedians cover with an attention to detail that would put the Kinsey Report to shame.

“If you don’t have a sense of humor about sex,” Morris advises, “do not go out to no comedy club.”

Despite the fact that he’s a seven-year veteran of the club circuit, Morris says he still feel nervous playing at the Comedy Act. He says black audiences are tougher, that they don’t tolerate a bad comic, that they feel they’ve paid their money and now they want to laugh.

“Black audiences are the worst in the world if you’re not funny,” he says. “They sit there and look at you like, ‘Get your butt off the stage now! ‘ “

Though the club has played an important role in the careers of many black comics since it opened in 1985 (Keenen Ivory Wayans, Sinbad, the late Robin Harris, who was the longtime emcee), the building itself is not an impressive structure. Manager Sharon Williams says she thinks it was originally a market before it was converted into the once-famous Checkmate Club. The walls are mirrored, the ceiling is black, the orange-covered tables are large enough for eight people.

The main prop is a large spotlight set on the left side of the room that the comics use when they want to turn on the crowd--as in the case of the guy in front who didn’t seem to be getting the jokes. “Hey, what’s the matter with you?” a comic yells at the now well-lit offender. “You need an interpreter or Hooked on Phonics or something?”

The evening usually begins with perhaps a dozen novices working from 8-9:30 p.m. when the regulars take over. Sometimes they’ll go through 30 to 35 neophytes in the hour and a half.

“If you can’t make a person laugh in three minutes,” says Morris, “you got to get off.”

When it comes time for Morris, he stretches his arms out once or twice, gets a very serious expression on his face, then bounds on stage. “It’s the audience who makes the comedian, not the other way around,” he says, just before going on. “How can you say you’re funny if they not laughing?

* Name: The Comedy Act Theater.

* Place and Time: 3339 W. 43rd St., two blocks east of Crenshaw (the sign on the building says Regency West), Los Angeles (310) 677-4101. Open Thursday, Friday and Saturday.

* Cost: $10; two-drink minimum; a $6 fried-chicken dinner is served Thursday and Friday.

* Parking: Free at attended lots both next door and across the street.