COVER STORY : The Last Stand for Stand-Up? : Dozens of the nation’s comedy clubs have gone out of business, but most L.A. establishments--where people like Jay Leno and Jerry Seinfeld routinely drop in to hone their routines--are riding out the storm

The extent of the comedy club slump became clear last year when New York’s landmark Catch a Rising Star club closed its doors. There was a time when Catch and the New York Improv were the twin citadels of happening, urban comedy, with Rodney Dangerfield and Robert Klein yukking it up at the Improv and David Brenner and Richard Belzer working the laughs at Catch. Jerry Seinfeld got his start at Catch, and made a point of being there on an emotional closing night.

The N.Y. Improv is hanging on, but former Catch owner Richard Fields sees more club closings in comedy’s future. “My advice to people in the comedy business is ‘Sell,’ ” he says.

The slump hasn’t been limited to big-city nightlife.

“There was a club called the Holiday House in Monroeville, Pa.,” David Brenner recalls. “It sat about 1,200, and at one time I would do 10 or 11 nights, two shows a night, and sell it out three weeks before I got to town. Then the club cut down to a six-day week, then just weekends. They went to Friday and Saturday shows only, then just Saturday, then out of business. Now it’s a mall.”

These are hard times in the laughter trade. During the last few years, dozens of comedy clubs around the country have gone out of business. Journeymen comics whose careers blossomed in the ‘80s are now finding that lucrative gigs are difficult to come by. And potential comedy club audiences seem to be staying home, cash-poor and possibly overwhelmed by the amount of stand-up shtick flowing freely from the television.

Can it be that we are witnessing the death of our civilization’s smoky dens of reflected truths and two-drink minimums? Is the end of the comedy club at hand?

Not in Los Angeles, where, despite some setbacks, comedy clubs are quietly riding out the rough times. L.A. club owners and comics possess a lonely optimism about the business. Around the rest of the country, stand-up comedy may not be the golden fad it was a few years ago, but here, comedy is still spoken of as an art form. With apologies to Mr. Dangerfield, this may be the last town where comedy gets respect.

“The numbers are down dramatically from three or four years ago, but in L.A. there are still probably 100,000 people a month going to see comedy,” says Bob Fisher, the owner of Pasadena’s Ice House.

One thing that sets Los Angeles apart as a comedy town is the sheer number and quality of the comedians who call L.A. home. Clubgoers throughout the rest of the country rely on comedians’ road schedules to bring the best laughs to town, while here, top talent can be seen in the local clubs almost every night of the week. Top comics use the clubs as a place where new material can be written on the spot or polished. Newer comics are hoping to be seen. Many of the comics who have recently made the enviable jump to a starring role in a sitcom were often first spotted by the networks while doing their act in local clubs, and they often return to the clubs to keep a fresh edge to the clubs to keep a fresh edge on their comic talents.

“First-rate comedians are in town on a daily basis,” says Jan Smith of Igby’s, a club that has been in West Los Angeles for 11 years. “They’re doing film and television work as well as comedy. As an L.A. club owner, I get top comedians fairly inexpensively, because they use the clubs as a showcase.”

Says “Tonight Show” host Jay Leno, who still tries out new material in local comedy clubs: “That’s really what makes the Los Angeles clubs different from anywhere in the country. You’re not going to get Jerry Seinfeld just dropping in to some club in Baltimore, but it happens out here. That keeps the standard of comedy high in this town, and it makes it exciting for the people who are paying to be in the clubs.”

But there’s the problem: Fewer people are paying to be in the clubs these days. Big names and quality jokes don’t do a nightclub much good if the room is empty. Even L.A. clubs have experienced a downturn--the Santa Monica Improv, an annex of Budd Friedman’s original Improv on Melrose Avenue, is closed at present. The 6-year-old club’s future is uncertain.

The public’s entertainment dollars are tight, and the comedy business is unquestionably going through heavy changes.

“The Wall Street Journal would say we’re going through a ‘correction,’ ” says Richard Jeni, who was named best stand-up comic at the 1993 American Comedy Awards. “The comedy club experience has been devalued, and there are so many comics around today that you need to be a lot funnier than you needed to be 20 years ago in order to get attention.”

There are still more comedy clubs around now than there were 20 years ago, but figures are way down from just a few years back. From a national comedy club population of 20 back in 1979, their number grew to more than 400 just 10 years later. Since then, close to a hundred clubs have closed, and comedy trade papers have reported that business is down 10% to 40% since hitting its profitable peak in 1990. Some struggling clubs are doing away with comedy altogether and simply staying open as bars, while others have begun to book less comedy and more music.

But Jeni points out that his career, now in its 12th year, is proof that a funny performer can find his audience no matter the prevailing economic climate: “There’s been a recession for comedy and for the country, but these have been my best years. I’m getting more people to spend $15 to see me in a club now than I did when the business was booming.”

The comedy boom took shape in the early to mid-’80s. As the disco era came to a close, it was a night out at a comedy club that became the entertainment of choice for a wider spectrum of people. The excitement generated by live, quality comedy fueled a blazing club business, and soon owners of steakhouses, bowling alleys and music clubs were revamping their venues to make room for comedians.

An unprecedented wave of would-be entertainers left their day jobs and jumped into a comic’s life on the road. Enjoying a willing supply of talent, and a voracious audience demand, club owners could do no wrong.

“All you had to do was open up the reservation line and fasten your seat belt,” says Fisher, of the Ice House. Though that club has had a long history as a cabaret and variety nightclub, it’s been a comedy club since Fisher purchased it in 1978. “During the boom, this was a fantastic business, and everyone profited. But I knew it wouldn’t last. I kept thinking about the years when there were 800 folk music clubs around the country doing gangbusters business.”

Indeed, as the country’s economy slipped into recession, the disposable dollars that had powered the comedy boom seemed to evaporate.

“Comedy clubs became like pawn shops, pizzerias and liquor marts--there was one on every block. After a while, only the best clubs could survive. How much can people laugh, anyway?” Brenner asks.

While the clubs were beginning to feel the pinch, television was discovering that stand-up acts provided a steady stream of inexpensively produced, original programming. These days, any home equipped with cable is still treated to a wide range of shows in which comics of varying talent perform quick, five- to 10-minute bits of stand-up. And over the last couple of years, it has become increasingly likely that the strongest, most popular comics will end up as the lead characters in sitcoms rather than as the top dog in a lineup of stand-ups.

It’s debatable whether current stand-up programs help to pique audience interest in particular performers, whether they engender excitement for comedy in general, or whether they have simply stumbled into comic overkill. But it’s clear that for many potential clubgoers, a night of live comedy in the clubs has lost its special appeal.

“Television has put on too many comedians who weren’t ready for television,” says club owner Jamie Masada, whose Laugh Factory has been a part of the Sunset Strip for 15 years. “But I don’t think we can blame all of comedy’s problems on television. They said nobody would go to the movies when television first came out, but movies accepted the challenge, and going to the movie theater remained a special experience. It’s up to club owners to accept the challenge to improve their business.”

“Going to see comedy is still a live theater event,” says Laurie Zaks, vice president for talent, development and special programs at the New York-based Comedy Central cable channel. “People still love a fun night out, and on our shows you just get a taste of what live comedy is like.”

Zaks also points out that if club comedy is to enjoy a strong resurgence, it will be television that lays the groundwork, as it did during the ‘80s. “In the past three months, when I’m walking around New York with my gym stuff in a Comedy Central bag, people are stopping me and telling me who their favorite comics are. And comedians that have only appeared on the channel a few times are telling us that they are already getting stopped in airports by fans who recognize them. I think interest in comedy is already heating up again.”

Perhaps some club owners, as well as comics and clubgoers, have forgotten that the club experience is not supposed to be the perfectly polished entertainment that television often presents. The clubs around L.A. have a long history of providing workshop environments for up-and-coming comics as well as proven vets developing new material. The comic rhythm in a club during a night of showcases isn’t as smooth as what’s delivered on the stand-up shows, but those nights are crucial to the health of a comedy scene.

“The clubs should be viewed as schools,” says Charles Joffe, an elder statesman in the comedy world. Along with partner Jack Rollins, Joffe has managed the careers of some of the biggest names in the comedy biz, including Woody Allen, Robert Klein, Billy Crystal, Robin Williams and David Letterman.

“That’s what they started out as and that’s what they should be. I get very angry with comics who do their act night after night without experimenting with the material or playing to the crowd. And I’ve fought for years with club owners who just want to book headliners who deliver a set act. The comedy clubs need to be learning grounds, where comics have time to find their own message and their own style. Too many comics are in a rush to get on television.”

Budd Friedman of the Improv has certainly not shied away from using television to promote his club, and has had success with his widely seen “Evening at the Improv” series. But he insists that there’s a quality to live comedy that can’t be duplicated on the small screen. “There are guys I see on TV who will just make me smile, and then when I see them in the club doing the same joke, suddenly I’m laughing out loud.”

Joffe says that television has been both helpful and harmful to recently begun comedy careers. “The insatiable thirst of TV got the boom started and gave people exposure. But there was a time when you could do Ed Sullivan or Johnny Carson once and become a national star. People stopped what they were doing when they saw a comedian on TV. Now, you can do Letterman, Leno, Arsenio and everybody else half a dozen times each and people still don’t remember your name. It takes rare talent to get serious attention.”

Amid all the television competition, Leno still feels that it’s important for “The Tonight Show” to offer a launching pad for young comics’ careers. But he also believes that comics have to be careful about how much they use the many television spots that are available.

“I can’t take credit for it, but I know that an appearance on ‘The Tonight Show’ still carries a lot of weight out there, and I’ve seen a lot of our comics go on to better things. I just think the comics have to be careful about overexposing themselves with all the TV that’s out there. If you’ve seen somebody doing their 20 minutes on cable over and over again, why should you pay to go to a club and see the same 20 minutes? And now you’re even seeing clips of comics in 1978, in bell-bottoms and long hair, doing the same jokes they’re doing tonight in a club somewhere. That can’t be good for a comic’s career.”

Even during his pre-host days in the middle of the ‘80s boom, Leno was careful about not allowing too much of his own stand-up routines to end up on television shows. “I always thought it was important to treat a live performance as live and TV as TV. I’ve always been willing to go to where the people who want to see me are, even if that means a little less money than doing a TV spot.”

Leno continues to work on the local club scene, making an appearance as recently as last week at the Comedy and Magic Club in Hermosa Beach. He can work the local clubs at his convenience, but many other high-profile pros have seen their work schedules lightened by the national downturn in club business.

Despite the loss of Catch a Rising Star in New York, there is still a strong comedy scene in New York. Caroline’s has emerged as a premier headlining club, and newer talents showcase at clubs such as Stand Up NY and the Comic Strip. The original Improv relocated this summer, and is currently opened Thursdays through Saturdays. “The clubs always seem to be packed when I’m in them,” says Zaks.

Between New York and L.A., however, there are big changes in the comedy landscape. While owners have been quick to close faltering clubs over the last several years, comics who got a taste of success in the ‘80s aren’t so quick to throw away their punch lines. Brenner believes that a current glut of comics makes it more difficult for any single comic to stand out.

“When I started out there were a couple hundred people making a living as comedians. Now I hear there’s something like 8,000. I like to think that cream rises to the top, but that doesn’t matter much if you’re in an ocean of milk.”

Jeff Altman, another well-traveled comic vet, agrees with Brenner’s assessment. “Comedy is no longer as exclusive or as rewarding. Genius still shines through, but it’s harder to distinguish yourself. This used to be a strange, specialized profession but now there are juniors in college studying to be comics. You tell somebody on a plane you’re a comic and they say, ‘Oh, really?’ while stifling a yawn. They used to look at you like you were a circus freak. I knew we were in trouble when they started having comedy nights at the motels around interstate junctions.”

Jeni isn’t convinced that the ballooning ranks of comics have had a negative effect on the quality of the laughs, however. “The standard line is that there used to be 100 comics and 10 were great; now there are 10,000 and 10 are great. That’s just not logical,” says Jeni. “You’d be postulating the only situation in history where competition didn’t improve the product. There are more comedians than ever before, so it follows that there are more bad, more mediocre and more great comedians than ever before.”

Of course, these new comedians need stages to shtick on. While the present national scene may be a bleak vista of diminishing returns, in Los Angeles there is tempered optimism. Comics and owners who have survived the shakeout of the last few years remain fiercely dedicated to the club scene.

“It’s feast or famine these days,” says Jan Smith of Igby’s. “You can only count on a full house when you’ve got a top headliner. But for me it’s a no-lose situation because I enjoy the comics and the crowds so much.”

Mitzi Shore, owner of the 21-year-old Comedy Store, feels that hard times only make the remaining clubs and comics stronger. “A lot of used car salesman went into comedy when it took off in the early ‘80s. Now there’s a weeding out, and I think it’s great. Eventually the audiences will realize that the stand-up TV shows don’t give them pleasure, and we’ll be ready to give them fresh, quality stand-up.”

Roseanne Arnold, Jerry Seinfeld and Tim Allen have made spectacularly successful jumps from the comedy clubs to sitcoms, and an army of comics are now following their lead. For the last few seasons, TV producers have been using comedy clubs as a crucial scouting ground for new talent.

The edgy charms of Brett Butler were discovered in that fashion, and she’s currently starring in ABC’s “Grace Under Fire.” She’s thrilled to be in a series but is finding that she also enjoys stand-up work more than ever.

“Now I love going into the clubs, because since I’ve been on television, I have license to kill. Before the show, I liked being an anonymous struggling artist who could make a room laugh. Now I’m not anonymous or struggling, but I still love my comedy and I don’t want to play it safe. After 12 years, I’m finally beginning to understand what the art is about. Comedy is still like table-dancing with a microphone in some places, but there will always be a few club owners who cherish what’s unique about comedy.”

John Caponera has just finished 13 episodes of his first series, “The Good Life,” which premiered last week on NBC. But, like Butler, he’s not forsaking clubs--he says he needs the intimate setting to keep his comedy fresh.

“That’s where my material comes together. I like to do my writing on stage. There’s something special about working spontaneously and doing it from the heart without worrying who’s watching. The club is where I get to show my true colors.”

“It’s amazing the amount of calls we get from fairly important people trying to track down comics they’ve seen on our shows,” says Comedy Central’s Zaks. “There’s a real rush to be the first one to offer a development deal to a hot new comic.” Zaks says that Comedy Central has fielded enough interest in talent that the channel has opened an in-house booking business.

Most comics still working steadily in L.A. clubs admit that they’d like a shot at TV work, but they don’t downplay the satisfaction of live work. For some, the effect of a good set in the clubs can verge on the medicinal.

“It’s extraordinary,” says comic-performer Charles Fleischer, perhaps best known as the voice of Roger Rabbit. “I’ve had times when I go on stage with a terrible headache, and I feel completely healed afterward. Laughter is a very powerful force, for the laughers and for the person at the center of the laughstorm.”

Stand-up Wendy Liebman still cherishes her live work, but is making plans against an unsure club future. “I feel I’m at my most creative in the clubs. But the business is evolving and forcing me to re-evaluate my career. I may end up developing a one-woman show just to keep working.”

One-person shows offer an alternative to club work for some performers at a time that club owners are also looking for alternative forms of entertainment to recapture the club audience. Budd Friedman had some success staging the comic play “Shear Madness” at his Santa Monica Improv--but not enough to keep the club’s doors open. Bob Fisher is considering bringing revue-style nights to the Ice House, in which comedy would be mixed with music and variety acts.

While the owners wait out the dip in business, the next comedy boom may be taking shape.

“Comedy doesn’t go out of style, it just changes shape,” says Joffe. “I have no fears that the history of the comedy club is coming to an end. There are still comics who take their work very seriously, and club owners who love comedy as an art. If comedy seems to be dying, it’s only in number and not in quality.”

Joffe says that comedy will do just fine until then. “People are nervous about the demise of the comedy club, but they were just as nervous years ago when the comedy radio shows were fading out, or when the Catskills resorts began to close. I feel badly that some of the older clubs are gone, but there will always be new comedians, and there will always be a market for them. If the field gets narrowed down, that’s OK. We’ve just gone through a period where there were far too many comics, and far too many who weren’t very good.”

“The business is going through huge changes, and we probably won’t see anything like the ‘80s again,” says Fields of the now-defunct Catch a Rising Star. “But these things are cyclical. In five years we may be talking about the Great ‘90s Comedy Revival.”

Respected veteran comic Alan King has achieved wide and varied success in films and television, but he remains devoted to the work of young club comedians. He says that a comic era may be coming to a close, but that the future will certainly have its share of laughs.

“It’s not a question of optimism or pessimism. Comedy will always be here, and great comics will come out of the woodwork when you least expect it. Last year I sat and watched 139 comedians do five minutes each at an open call for the Toyota Comedy Festival. Most of these kids had the guts of lions, and they’re learning their craft. They’ll be the ones to bring new life to the clubs.”