“The Comedians: Drunks, Thieves, Scoundrels, and the History of American Comedy” by Kliph Nesteroff; Grove Press, 432 pages, $28
“The Comedians” is the history of American funny that we didn’t know we needed, but did.
In his highly readable overview of the comedy business and its colorful practitioners, comic turned showbiz historian Kliph Nesteroff chronicles the challenges of the comedy business from the days of vaudeville, when theater chain owners ruled with an iron hand; to the hip clubs of the 1950s and ‘60s, when the assembly-line system of comedy writers and joke-tellers was replaced by a more personal, and political, brand of humor; to the comedy-club boom of the 1980s and beyond.
Drawing from show-business staples like Variety as well as more than 200 interviews of his own, Nesteroff — the author of a popular blog and host of a live interview series on show business history – takes a chronological approach to the topic. Structurally, it could almost double as a syllabus for a history course on comedy.
What makes “The Comedians” indispensable, and such a quick read, is Nesteroff’s eye for detail, and big-picture sense of when the world began to change — and who fueled that change.
For example, he highlights the role of Frank Fay, an acerbic wit who in the 1920s turned the role of vaudeville emcee into the front line of stand-up; shines a light on Al Boasberg, an influential comedy writer who helped “invent” Jack Benny’s vain persona, altering the role of the comedian forever; pays heed to Harry Einstein, who created one of radio’s most memorable characters (Parkyakarkus) and was father to several influential comedy creators, including actor-filmmaker Albert Einstein, who for obvious reasons changed his last name to Brooks; and points out that, for all the hype about Joan Rivers and Phyllis Diller, there were women stand-ups before them, such as Jean Carroll and Rusty Warren, who paved the way.
But where “The Comedians” earns its biggest ovations is in the material Nesteroff gleaned from comedy’s survivors. Jack Carter — who Mel Brooks tells Nesteroff was the worst comedian ever to write for — shares frank details about the life of a comic in the 1940s and ‘50s. (Carter died in June.) Shecky Greene talks about how he became the standard for the Vegas stand-up comedian – and how his refusal to make nice with Frank Sinatra got him beaten up.
Nesteroff also does a terrific job detailing comedy’s transition from comic as joke machine to comedians with a more personal style of humor, one that has dominated the field since. “In the mid-1950s,” he writes, “no longer was it ‘a fella’ walking down the street. For the first time comedians told the audience: ‘I was walking down the street.’”
Comedians like Mort Sahl and Lenny Bruce introduced a brand of idiosyncratic, observational comedy that inspired comedians like George Carlin and Robert Klein, who in turn led to another wave of comedy standard-bearers like Louis C.K. and Jerry Seinfeld.
That’s not to say there aren’t gaps in “The Comedians.” Nearly two-thirds of the book passes before comedians of color get substantive attention, and even then it’s a separate-but-equal treatment. Several major comedy influences receive but scant mention, among them National Lampoon, “In Living Color,” Eddie Murphy and Garry Shandling.
Still, “The Comedians” is an invaluable, and engaging, history of American entertainment’s sturdiest art form. Like all good popular history, it’ll send you scrambling to learn more – which, thanks to routines and bits stored on Spotify and YouTube, among other sources, has never been easier to do.
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