On my way to Detroit....
…for the Detroit Jewish Book Fair, the Rose Bowl of Jewish Book Fairs. It is a big big deal, apparently. I took this gig because I wanted to experience one Jewish book festival, and I wanted to go back to Detroit, my favorite city to do stand-up.
Mark Ridley’s “Comedy Castle,” which is still around and I may scoot over to for the late show Saturday night, was one of the great road clubs. Great treatment, great sightlines, wonderful crowds that got it, and a real mensch of an owner. Mark Ridley was a sweetheart who treated comics like artists and not like, as a guy once said to me in Vegas, “a buffet that tells jokes.” The Castle was the only club I worked where I was a legit draw, and the first place that paid me $2000 a week to headline, which was giant money in the go-go 80s.
The first time I worked at the Castle was September, 2005. I had to run to Port Authority off the softball field (where I helped the Associated Press team win its first Press League title) and grab the bus to Newark Airport, to catch the People Express flight to Detroit ($59, one-way. My friend Steve Skrovan had a great line: “Flew People Express last week. Did you guys have to elect a co-pilot?”)
Somewhere between Port Authority and Newark, my luggage was stolen. My guess was somebody grabbed it out of the bus. I had one of those giant garment bags (the gig was five days) and a small bag with all my essentials (don’t ask) I carried on the bus. I was wearing jeans, sneakers and a Hawaiian shirt over my softball jersey. And that’s what I walked into the club wearing. I was always a coat and tie guy. I wouldn’t go on stage with bare sleeves, so the doorman gave me his large tweed jacket to wear.
After the show, Mark Ridley’s father-in-law starts talking to me. One of those guys who knows just enough Yiddish to get himself in trouble. I tell him about my luggage, and he keeps says, “Oh, are you in tsuris….” He says to me, “You need to go to The Outpost. They’ll set you up with a new wardrobe for nothing.” Then he takes a napkin. And writes on it: Take care of this guy. Harold. And he says to me, “Give this to Jerry. Don’t give it to Lester. Lester is a schmuck. You want Jerry.”
Okay, fine. Thanks. What do I know?
I call a cab the next day. The guy shows up. I say, “I need to go to The Outpost.”
Cab driver says, “What, did you lose all your clothes in a fire?”
I say, “Why?”
He says, “Because that’s the only reason anyone goes to The Outpost.”
“Take me to the mall….”
