Comedy


Sally’s Stage, Chicago, Illinois

I’ve always loved comedy in any form since I was a boy. Of course, I loved all the old TV comedies like The Dick Van Dyke Show, the Honeymooners, and Laugh In, and the variety shows like the Carol Burnett Show and the Flip Wilson Show, but I especially loved watching the standup comedians like Bill Cosby, George Carlin, Bob Newhart, Joan Rivers, and Phyllis Diller. I loved watching them so much that I wanted to be a comedian, too. For some strange reason, I would always remember every joke that I heard. Of course, I had trouble retaining my school lessons, like the multiplication tables. But I knew hundreds of jokes by the time I was a teenager. Other boys memorized baseball statistics from baseball cards or knew where all the pretty girls in the neighborhood lived. My friend Adrian could tell the year and make of any automobile just by looking at the taillights, the headlights, or the grille. When that became too easy for him, he graduated to airplanes. Anytime a plane flew overhead, he would tell us what kind of plane it was and what airlines used them. If no one stopped him, he would recite every statistic he knew about that plane. He even knew about military aircraft. But he still knew his cars as well.

Anyway, surrounded by friends like that, I wanted to find my niche, my very own specialty. Something in which I could indulge to the nth degree. In the immortal words of Tina Turner, I never do nothin’ nice ‘n’ easy! I decided that jokes would be my forte! When we went to the library, I would check out a joke book. Every Sunday, I would read the jokes religiously in the My Favorite Jokes section in the Parade Magazine that appeared in the Sunday paper. Since I didn’t speak English that well, learning all these jokes helped me improve my English. And I became one of the best spellers in the third grade even though I didn’t speak English all that well. My mother, who had the same love for jokes, and I would always tell each other the latest joke we had heard. I even read Reader’s Digest just for the jokes.

So, it’s no wonder that I became a standup comedian. However, I was always nervous on stage, even when I settled down and became comfortable. That’s one of the reasons I gave up performing. I would feel nervous for days before performing. That feeling would intensify while performing. And then, I wouldn’t get over my nervousness afterwards for days because I would think about all the mistakes I had made or things that I should have said. But that didn’t stop me in my quest to become funnier.

Funnier? I wanted to be the funniest comedian ever! That’s the way I am. When I do something, I must go all out. I don’t let my actual talent and limitations stop me. I know my limits because I cross them all the time. I wanted to become so funny as a standup comedian that I would make someone die from laughter! I fantasized about someday performing at the Chicago Theater and seeing my name on the marquis and an ambulance on standby parked in front. Yes, I thought I could be that funny!

And to that end, I watched every classic TV comedy show and every classic comedy movie ever made. But that wasn’t enough for me in my quest for killer comedy. I also read every humorous book I could find, usually by culling the bookshelves at one of the many used bookstores that we used to have in Chicago. I even bought a book autographed by Bob Hope for a dollar! I read a lot of comedy, humor, and joke books in my lifetime. Well, as usually happens to me whenever I read a book, while reading I discover at least two or three other books I must read. Especially with the comedians who are always thanking someone who positively influenced their comedic skills. So, let’s just say that I read a lot of funny books.

My favorite book of all time!

So, one day, I was invited to a party by my friend Mary McCall at her condominium at 400 E. Randolph. That’s the high-rise building with the pool covered by the glass geodesic dome that used to be located by the Lake Shore Drive S-curve until someone decided to straighten out the S-curve. The building is still there, but the S-curve is gone. Anyway, I met, just by chance, Aaron Freeman the comedian. Mary introduced me to him, but we already knew each other because we both had performed at the Clout Club, the comedy club founded by Jim Wiggins on North Lincoln Avenue in 1986. Aaron mentioned that there weren’t any funny books written. I couldn’t help it, but I had to disagree. “What about the classics?” I asked him. Aristophanes and Shakespeare wrote some very funny stuff. Cervantes was a very funny guy, too! Of course, Catch-22 and Catcher in the Rye are also hilarious. I told him he had to read anything by some of the lesser-known humor writers, but equally as funny, such as Ring Lardner, Stephen Leacock, S.J. Perelman, James Thurber, Groucho Marx, Will Cuppy, Woody Allen, Dorothy Parker, Richard Armour, and Max Shulman. He said he would read them. I really enjoyed that conversation with him because I love talking about jokes and funny things that I have read. I never met Aaron again, so I haven’t been able to ask him if he ever read any of my suggestions and read any of those funny writers. Such is life.

DDR

Cordi Marian


My oldest son went to daycare at Cordi Marian, 1100 S. May Street in Little Italy for three years. They accepted all children provided they were potty trained. My son was hardly qualified, but they accepted him anyway. These three years were quite a learning experience for me because of series of unbelievable coincidences, the kind you couldn’t include in a novel or a movie. First of all, I learned that my aunt Concha also sent her son Peter there for daycare. Peter and David didn’t really know they were related because they had never met before. One day, I recognized my aunt Concha as she was leaving Cordi Marian with her son. Our sons soon became good friends and since Peter was a year older he kind of looked over my son to make sure he was fine.

Another surprise was that the nuns who taught at the school knew our family. In fact, the nuns were all from Mexico. So were all the lay teachers and teacher aids. All the parents liked the fact that the children were learning Spanish. Since most of the teachers spoke very little English, most of the children were speaking Spanish. One day, Sister Teresa, the principal, asked me how my father was. She knew my father by name. We talked a while and then she told me how she knew not only my father but also his brothers and sisters and their parents, my grandparents. Since my grandfather was a carpenter, he did some carpentry with his sons at Cordi Marian. Sister Teresa showed me some of the shelves and bookcases that they had made for the school. And three generations later, my son is using these cubby-hole shelves to store his backpack and blanket.

One day my father told me to me that his sister, Sor Ancilla, had come from her convent in Texas where she is Mother Superior. I go to Pilsen to pick up my father and I ask where we have to go to pick up my aunt. He asks me if I know how to get to 1100 S. May Street. Of course, I do! That’s were I take my son to daycare, I tell him. Well, I get there and sure enough, my aunt Sor Ancilla is staying at Cordi Marian for the weekend. What a coincidence! Or rather, what a series of coincidences that no one would believe if I wrote them into a novel.

DDR