Rick Jenkins
written by Ken Carlson
Who would you consider more likely to climb three floors up a dark staircase of a Chinese restaurant, grim-faced homicide cops from Law & Order or inquisitive comedy fans whose fallback school was Wesleyan?
For 14 years, a humble black-walled dance club that serves killer scorpion bowls in Harvard Square, Cambridge, Massachusetts has been home to The Comedy Studio; a simple comedy show as unremarkable as one at any coffee house, as intrinsically important to contemporary intelligent comedy as any club in the nation.
The show which started as your typical Sunday night open mic, is run by Rick Jenkins, a comic from Buffalo with Adlai Stevenson-good looks and the talent as a host to make his eclectic audience feel welcome, to make an unornamented loft not only relevant but influential.
“Rick Jenkins is the modern patron saint of Boston comedy,” says comedian Eugene Mirman. “For over a decade Rick has kept the attic of the Hong Kong (the hosting restaurant) one of the most thriving places for comedy. I love him and if I could give him an award, I would. But I don’t give out awards, because I’m a person and not an institution. But if I did, Rick Jenkins would get the Eugene Mirman Award in Comedy Club Excellence for the fifth year in a row!”
“Rick’s like an adopted brother,” says comedian DJ Hazard. “We’re actually more like an old married couple in regard to how we respectively view the world. He is much more tolerant than I am and I think that’s why The Studio is such a creative success. I would have shot anybody who annoyed me. He nurtures them and they end up on The Tonight Show.”
It’s a typical Saturday night. Jenkins is setting up 77 chairs and about a dozen banquet tables for the sold-out show. Tonight’s lineup will range from enterprising students to recently signed stars of the future to veteran local headliners who were there when Boston jump-started the comedy boom back in the day.
Rick puts up a homemade sign on stage and an a-frame on the street, the only form on advertising he’s ever needed. The phone is ringing regularly with people he has to turn away for reservations. The music mix is thundering over the speakers. The show will kick off at 8:12 when one of Boston’s anthems, Dirty Water, cues up.
The evening, matching Jenkins’ personality and the off-off Caroline’s club identity has a quirky, offbeat vibe. Rick, as host, after greeting the house, says to the volunteers working the soundboard, “I’m not sure what you turned off but the mic is on Line 4.” He then introduces the waitresses and bartenders by name.
He talks to the crowd in his act, a mix of homespun stories and Lettermanesque one line quips, sharing his philosophy behind the show, “Nobody walks through Harvard Square and asks, ‘I wonder what they do in the attic of that Chinese restaurant.’ At other clubs you get ten shitty comics, a great MC, and call it a comedy show. Here we do the opposite. We have ten interesting people who see the world in a funny way... Our audience doesn’t heckle, they’re disappointed in us... We have to be done by 10 so we can return Hong Kong back to the Chinese.”
“Basically this is an open mic that worked out well,” says Jenkins. “We have the same problems we’ve always had. It becomes a dance club after the comedy ends. We have to put away the tables and chairs. We may get some of the drunk guys from Harvard on the second floor (a more raucous bar you pass on the way up the stairs) being loud. The goal would be to make it a full time comedy club, but really it’s a space that does shows six days a week.”
Aside from the occasional gig around town, this veteran comic performs at The Comedy Studio exclusively. They have a magic show on Tuesdays, comedy Wednesday through Sunday. Jenkins rents the space from the restaurant. They get the food and drinks. He does what we can at the door. It means he doesn’t make much money, but he doesn’t have many headaches either. As with any small, independent operation, Jenkins has to delegate authority in the event of an emergency. The current issue he’s preparing for is his leaving for three days to meet his girlfriend’s parents in Las Vegas. He’s been pre-printing programs and giving out passwords to the volunteers and comics who help run the club. “It’s really in the hands of people who are all about comedy,” says Jenkins.
If you’re going to mention people who are all about comedy, not just in getting laughs for himself, but helping others earn them, you’d be hard pressed to find someone more involved than Rick. His comic-in-residence program helps young comics as they have the chance to open every show at the club for a month. Past participants have included foundling headliners Shane Mauss and Myq Kaplan. The model of his show has been repeated in small rooms throughout downtown New York. Yet his room is different, not only for the show he puts on, but the people who come to see it.
“Boston’s Comedy scene is unique,” says Jenkins “We no longer have the 400-seat Comedy Connection club. Now there are five or six 80-seat clubs, a thousand seater and we’re about to get a 1,500 seat club (House of Blues). You have 80-seat rooms and 1,000-seat rooms, but working out your act is a little more difficult because you don’t have that next step. Some of the younger comics are getting into the habit of treating almost everything like an open mic; playing to their friends, more people with notes on stage, coming a little late. When you’re running the 80-seat club, all of a sudden you care. I’m here every day. For me it’s the biggest thing that happens, although I realize it’s not the same for everyone.”
Buffalo, back in ‘81 was when Jenkins got his start. Since it’s a small market he got to open for all the national acts who came to town; Jay Leno, Judy Tenuta, Emo Philips, Sam Kinnison, Norm McDonald.He moved to Boston in ‘86 at the height of the boom so he had enough time and road work under his belt so he could host and middle alongside the likes of Tony V and DJ Hazard.
“Stand-up,” says Jenkins, “is all I’ve ever done. I had a day job for three years when the boom ended in the 90’s and I started doing this. It took me three years to say, maybe I can make ends meet and run a small room. It’s a terrific atmosphere. Everybody’s here because they want to be here. The price is low so I can take some chances on some acts, some newer different acts. Hopefully, the audience trusts me enough to put on a really good show.”
It’s not just the audience that puts their trust in Rick. There’s also the industry. In recent weeks he helped cultivate three major auditions; New Wave Entertainment, Paradigm Entertainment with the Montreal Comedy Festival, and Eddie Brill with the Great American Comedy Festival.
Comedian Joe Wong is going to perform at the White House Press Correspondents’ Dinner March 17. He’s at The Studio every Wednesday working on new material. Eugene Mirman used to host Fridays at The Studio. He took the idea of encouraging different points of view in trying to keep it professional enough that there is a real show to it. Brendon Small got Adult Swim’s Home Movies while he was doing shows there. Then he moved to LA and launched Metalocalypse and a best selling album in the newly formed Death Metal category.
“It’s been amazing,” says Jenkins, “how the Boston scene has done a good job of developing people and moving them out so the next generation can move up. Chris Fleming was just signed. MC Napkins was hosting every Thursday. He signed January 1. Shane Mauss and Myq Kaplan both have Comedy Central Presents specials coming out next month. That’s one of the things that changing. You’re not going to make a living playing 80-seat rooms. As some of the headliners are getting older, the younger ones who are hungrier and looking for good stage time.”
What gets lost in the success of the club is how good a host and comic Rick is. While he jokes, “I gave up caring about my act long ago,” without his ability and devotion to the room’s standards, there is no way it would have the following it does. It’s his carrying the workload and keeping the show moving along when one of those new or unusual acts doesn’t fly that defines it as a serious room, and not simply a comedian clubhouse.
“I’m not a fan of opening a show with crowd work,” says Jenkins. “It’s something I’ve worked on with the comics here. If I’m doing crowd work in my opening ten minute monologue, something has gone horribly wrong with the show. One reason we’ve had so many people from here on television, one of the important things we focus on right from the beginning – ‘This is our show and we know what we’re doing. You, the crowd, can sit back and relax.’ Later on I’ll get into some crowd work. But really it’s like welcoming someone to your home. ‘Put your coats on the bed, take a tour of the place and I’ll introduce you to some friends.’”
When regular fans come to the show, they get standard bits that they’ve come to expect, but he also adds in three or four new jokes a week, one liners usually. Another thing regulars will find is that The Comedy Studio doesn’t sell advance tickets to groups larger than eight because Rick finds it odd to give more than 10 percent of the show to one group. The Studio crowd tends to be more bookish and reserved than standard clubs. Incidents are few and tend to lean toward obnoxious Twittering rather than drunken hecklers.
“I think The Comedy Studio is fantastic,” says comedian David Baker. “Rick really takes care - more than other owners/bookers - in putting his shows together to ensure a great blend of comedians. The Comedy Studio has a really friendly vibe, is nearly always sold out, and the crowds really appreciate good comedy. Rick is also fantastically supportive to all the comics, squeezing them in whenever he can and allowing them space to develop.”
“The Comedy Studio,” says comedian Shane Mauss, “was the first club in Boston that I worked at. Rick Jenkins was the first to give me a shot. The Comedy Studio is the best Showcase-style show I’ve been to in the country. There really isn’t a better place for comics to develop, take chances, and work out new material. The atmosphere is great and the audiences are a dream (most nights). The comic-in-residence is a fantastic program. By the end of my month I felt as if I had progressed more than I normally would have in six months.”
“Rick Jenkins is the person who gave me my start in comedy,” says comedian Myq Kaplan. “If the Comedy Studio did not exist, I honestly do not know what I would be doing in life. (Maybe something more helpful to society but less fun?) Truly, Rick has provided so many comedians with such a great venue, excellent audiences and lots of encouragement. I still think of the Studio as my Boston comedy home.”
“I’m always here,” says Jenkins, “and don’t completely suck as a comic, so there’s a little respect. I don’t tell comics what to do, but since there’s a community feel, you get a better sense of what you need to do to get better. I’ve always said to comics, if you have a better idea what you want to do, then it’s easier for me to help you.
“Some might complain,” Jenkins adds, “about not getting on a certain audition and I’ll tell them they [the industry] are looking for something else.’ Comedians tend to think they can play any room. The most difficult thing for me is to tell them, ‘I’m sure you’re very good, but in this room, we’re looking for something a little different. So make yourself familiar with the room before you play it.’ My feeling is, ‘Don’t ask to be president of Crest without trying the toothpaste.”
For more on the Rick Jenkins and
The Comedy Studio, visit www. thecomedystudio.com.