THROUGH THE HAZE…#46

The one the only Steve Martin. Weirdly he was my role model back in the late ‘70s. On 10-7-77 he made me small in front of a sold-out Paramount Seattle crowd. Reeeeeel small….

70’s/early ‘80s pop culture not only brought us an overwhelming abundance of diverse and incredible music, it introduced us to the up-and-coming comedic talents of Robin Williams, Steven Wright, George Carlin, Eddie Murphy, and the Amazing Steve Martin.

Steve Martin of the late ‘70s early ‘80s was the Wild and Crazy Guy; all spiffed up in a natty white suit and tie expecting you to take him seriously, grinning as he played the banjo with a magic arrow through his head, only to stop and feign confusion as his audience laughed wildly at this silliness. He would then stop to make balloon animals or begin to masterfully juggle cats (relax they were just plush toys!).

In his pre-standup comedian years, Martin won an Emmy at age 23 for his writing talents on the popular Smothers Brothers show, but live comedy was his destiny and in a short time he earned the reputation as one of the most original must-see artists working the comedy club circuit.

His onstage antics and jokes intentionally spun without punch lines became legendary.

There was the time he invited his entire audience to follow him out of the theatre and across to a McDonald’s where he proceeded to order 300 burgers for his entourage. The short order cooks went to work but before the patties could be wrapped Martin, informed the counter person he had a change of mind and desired just one small order of fries. To go…

With the fall ’77 release of his first platinum-selling comedy album, Let’s Get Small, he began selling out shows in auditoriums across the country.

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Fellow college students of my generation were known to party hearty on Saturday nights, but no matter what level of exuberance our recreational revelry reached. one eye was always on the clock, making sure we gave ourselves enough time to return home and be in front of our television sets at 11:30 sharp to catch Saturday Night Live.

Martin still holds the record for hosting the iconic Saturday night favorite sixteen-times.

Some nights he assumed the role of a Conehead or performed physical comedy the most memorable being Dancing in the Dark, the amazing swooning musical number with Gilda Radner, in which the two swung each other around the SNL stage with precise yet deeply silly abandon.

Here is the 3:25 classic routine: Bing Videos

Another perennial favorite was his teaming with Dan Akroyd as the Festrunk Brothers, who let us know in each skit that they were two over the top wild and crazy guys… But it was his role as King Tut in a truly memorable novelty-geared musical skit that sold over a million copies and reached number 17 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.

King Tut - SNL - YouTube

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I was embarrassingly enamored with Martin’s offbeat comedic style, and occasionally guilty of hijacking a catchphrase or two to elicit polite chuckles in conversation such as “Well excooose me!” or “Because I’m a wild and crazy guy.”

A handful of my favorite Steve Martin witticisms follows: “All I’ve ever wanted was an honest week’s pay for an honest day’s work.” “Writer’s block is a fancy term made up by whiners so they can have an excuse to drink alcohol.” “Before you criticize a man, walk a mile in his shoes. That way, when you do criticize him, you’ll be a mile away and have his shoes.” And, my favorite, “I gave my cat a bath the other day...they love it. He sat there, he enjoyed it, it was fun for me. The fur would stick to my tongue, but other than that...”

So imagine how giddy yours truly became when word hit the streets he would be playing the Seattle Paramount on December 7, ’77--Reserved seats only. On sale tomorrow morning…

Cocksure of securing two prime seats, I dialed my trusty ticket outlet at ten sharp only to be put on hold for an uncomfortable three minutes, then being told, “sorry the first show is sold out.”

Before panic could set in, all was not lost--there were still a handful of seats left for the SECOND show just added. I snatched them up quickly and decided to pick them up day of show at Will Call.

Instead of the usual stoner road trip protocol, this one was a date with a lady friend, Cathy, fellow writer on the Front staff who was as big a fan and Martinism spouter as yours truly. It was bound to be a classic night.

A quick stop at Will Call and we were inside without glancing at our tickets. Led to our seats by an usher we were directed to row FF—the last row on the main floor--thirty-two away from the stage where the set-up crew looked like ants from our vantage point. My heart sank, yet Cathy assured me all was good.

With twenty minutes to go before curtain time I sank back in my seat, then snapped to attention as I recognized the usher making his way up the aisle. Straight away, that old rascal hope sprang eternal. It was Robbie T—team leader for our security team on several of our concert productions back in Bellingham at the Mt. Baker. Certainly Robbie would save the day!!

We made eye contact and he stopped by to say hello. Trying my best not to grovel I asked if it was possible to get an upgrade if he noticed any no-show seats available. With a slightly detectable grimace he said he would do his best, then moved on with his rounds.

Lights dimmed and the opening act, John Sebastian of Loving Spoonful fame stepped onstage. No cheers, only hoots and loud chatter. Screw those Nashville Cats and Summers in the City—those on hand were here for Steve Martin and Steve Martin only, dammit! Two songs into his set, frustrated by the lack of respect, Sebastian set his guitar down, flipped off the rowdy’s and walked off stage. The crowd cheered and he did not look back.

The set break ended and still no Robbie.

Suddenly a movie screen dropped and the fifteen-minute SNL-filmed movie, The Absent-Minded Waiter, featuring Martin, Buck Henry, and Gilda, began to roll. About three minutes in, as I sat beating myself up for not considering bringing along a pair of binoculars, I felt a slight tug on my sleeve. Robbie was back and signaled for us to follow him towards the front.

Down we went, past the twentieth row, then the fifteenth. My heart started thumping. This was way too good to be true… He stopped at the third row, then shined his flashlight upon two vacant seats in the center section. Bingo! As the filmed neared its conclusion we apologized continually as we slithered over about ten laps on our way towards our awaiting seats.

The movie ended, the lights came back up and there he was, Steve Martin, fifteen feet away, holding his banjo, trademark arrow in place atop his white-haired head, grinning like he owned the world. He then dove right into his routine, material from his recent release, then, four minutes later he stopped abruptly, approached the edge of the stage then with a devilish bellowed, “Well, what do we have here—LATE ARRIVALS???!!!” He produced an instamatic camera from his suit pocket and snapped a picture of the two apparently confused man and wife ticket holders there at the edge of the row. Our row. Oh hell—the jig is up. We have been busted… Awkwardly we rose and began making our way back out the way we entered. As we turned to head back to FF, Martin jumped down from the stage and grabbed me by the elbow.

“Hey where ya going? Didn’t like the bluegrass? Think my jokes aren’t THAT funny? Stick around, the good stuff is coming, I promise.” It was my turn and, under these awkward circumstances, I offered my best possible Steve Martin impression: “Well Steve, since this just an EIGHT DOLLAR SHOW, I thought we could sit wherever the hell we wanted…” He poked me in the chest, then loud as possible, angrily growled “You mean THOSE weren’t yooooooor seats??!!” He spun me around quickly, put his foot on my butt and gave me a gentle but obvious shove. “GET OUT OF HERE!!” The entire crowd roared in approval.

Heads down, Cathy and I slunk away, all five thousand pairs of eyes staring at us in amusement, most of who were glad it had not been them. I Suddenly understood what Martin meant when he said “Let’s get small,” as with each step and each embarrassing subtle snicker coming our way, we grew tinier and tinier.

At the twentieth row, Cathy spotted two end row seats still unoccupied. Should we dare? If other late arrivals should suddenly appear, will he push this scenario to the utmost level of embarrassment by physically tossing us out of the Paramount himself? I glanced back. Martin was preoccupied, still berating the embarrassed late arrivals, so we plopped down unnoticed, those fifteen hundred pairs of eyes now turned to focus on the unfortunate couple. Although our newfound good luck went unchallenged the rest of the show, I sat distracted and quivering uncomfortably as I considered the potential consequences of being sent packing a second time.

The show ended and we scurried out hoping no one would recognize us from our embarrassing moment in the spotlight. Once on the road we found ourselves laughing at our misfortune and she pointed out that, as we headed towards Seattle earlier that evening, I had rhetorically asked “Wouldn’t it be cool to share a moment with the man himself?” Sometimes life works in funny ways, doesn’t it? mdnav

If I have stirred fond memories of Martin’s incredible comedic stylings and you feel so inclined, here is a ten-minute YouTube clip of some of his very best stand-up moments. (Compilation) The Best of Steve Martin’s Stand Up Comedy Check it out--you may be glad you did. If you are out of time, well EXCOOOSE ME! mdnav