There was so much shit that went down. NBC was telling us that they were going to build us our own high-rise building in Burbank to house The Tonight Show offices. It was going to be this wonderful and luxurious state-of-the-art office building. But when we got out there, there were these two modular units—basically a couple of double-wide trailers with bad air-conditioning and Formica walls like you’d find at a construction site. It was terrible.
Virtually everybody on the staff was invited to go, but it was also a good excuse to get rid of some people. Johnny had this assistant at the time whom he loathed, and a friend of mine later told me that the reason he left was just so he could get rid of her. I have no idea if it was true, but it’s an amusing story. To tell you the truth, I don’t think Johnny was all that anxious to go other than the fact that he could get away from his most recent ex-wife. Plus, Johnny had a great apartment at the UN Plaza and could get into the best restaurants in Manhattan if he wanted to, even though he rarely did that.
If anything—and this has all been well documented—I think it was Johnny’s executive producer, Freddie de Cordova, who pressured him into moving. A big part of that had to do with the fact Freddie had a lot of social status in Hollywood, but in New York he had almost none.
There’s no doubt that Johnny adjusted fine to Los Angeles after he got there, but relocating definitely wasn’t a priority with him. As for getting acts, we never had trouble flying people in to New York from LA, or vice versa. That was never an issue then, nor is it an issue now for Jimmy Fallon. It was still the show to do and the publicists knew exactly how to work The Tonight Show with the major stars. What they’d do is fly you to New York and then maybe they’d fly you down to Philadelphia to do Mike Douglas. There wasn’t anybody who wouldn’t get on a plane. The West Coast move was strictly for other people’s convenience other than Johnny’s.
TWENTY-TWO
A Tale of Two Comedy Clubs
As I was slowly adjusting to the loss of The Tonight Show on top of my unsuccessful attempt to launch a sister club in Greenwich Village called the Improvisation Two, which never caught on despite our notoriety uptown and only lasted a few months, I was faced with yet another potential bump in the road when Rick Newman decided to open a competing club called Catch A Rising Star on the Upper East Side on December 18, 1972.
Rick was always a terrific, affable guy and he’s as salt of the earth as they come, although when I first learned that he was opening Catch, my initial impression was resentment and that he was stealing my idea. But then very quickly after that, we became friends, which we’ve remained. Back then, we even helped one another out on evenings when we didn’t have enough comics. Another unexpected benefit was the press we received, because whenever somebody wrote about Rick, they’d also have to mention us since we were there first.
RICK NEWMAN:
Before I started Catch A Rising Star in 1972, I ran a bar called Danny’s Inferno in Queens. When Danny had to leave New York unexpectedly, he asked me to take it over for him. The deal was that he gave me a free pass to run it any way I wanted, plus he said I could keep all the profits as long as I paid all the bills, which was great, even though I didn’t know the first thing about running a bar.
Anyway, I had the bar for a few years and I wound up tripling the business because I put in entertainment on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, when I had a piano player and a few local comics. None of them ever made it and this was long before people were concentrating on comedians, but the point is that I knew how to book comics. Then after about two years, Danny came back and he suggested we open something up in Manhattan.
The place we found had been called Lester’s Bar & Grill on 31st Street and Third Avenue. It was a dive, but I redecorated it and I turned it into a singles’ bar called the Clan 1890s. It became so successful that we literally had to wait for people to leave before we could let others in. But then after a few years, I wanted to do my own thing and so I started looking for another location. This time, it was on First Avenue between 77th and 78th Streets, which eventually became Catch A Rising Star.
JAY LENO:
As far as I know, Budd and Rick always got along fine, although I also think that initially Catch was a bit of a thorn in Budd’s side. The great thing about doing Catch was that you got a meal and you got cab fare, which was unbelievable. But you also had to be kind of careful. You didn’t want to say, “Budd, can I get on early? I have to go on at Catch.” You didn’t want to say any of that stuff and rock the boat, but eventually things worked themselves out.
MAX ALEXANDER, comedian and actor:
Everybody jockeyed back and forth between the Improv and Catch—and later on the Comic Strip and the other clubs, too—myself included. It was never a rule that you couldn’t, and nobody ever tried to stop you, although I always kind of had an issue with the comics who would advertise it. I mean, what was the point of rubbing their noses in it and making waves?
JIMMIE WALKER:
As far as club owners go, Rick Newman is one of the best guys in the business, just one of those people that everybody loves and you almost never heard anyone say a bad thing about.
MARTY NADLER:
Oh my God, Catch A Rising Star was the changing of Budd because before that he’d been the only game in town. As standoffish and aloof as Budd could be, Rick was like your uncle because he’d welcome you and give you food and a drink, plus he was also paying for people’s cab fare.
One analogy I can give you is that when you’re starting out in this business you’re panning for gold, meaning that you’re trying to get discovered. And not only were you panning for gold at Rick’s place, you were being greeted warmly. It was like night and day, and it really got Budd to be more giving because he knew he had to be. It was an amazing transformation to watch and it was great to have another place to work.
RICHARD LEWIS:
Budd is one of the most important figures in my life career-wise and he’s always been like family to me. But so has Rick, and when I started working at both places, Budd was totally fine with that. Before they started giving us cab fare, one night about six of us hitched a ride over to the Upper East Side to do a set at Catch with a comedian who had a car. But before we left the Improv, we saw Budd and one of his best friends—who I think was an agent or a producer—standing outside in front. Surrounding them was this group of nefarious-looking guys who looked like they might be up to no good, which very well might have been the case, because in those days Hell’s Kitchen was an absolute shit hole. They weren’t carrying any guns or anything like that, and Budd and his friends didn’t look like they were in any imminent danger, but as a ruse, I immediately knew what I was going to say to the other comics once we got in the car.
After about twenty minutes, we were driving towards Eighth Avenue about to take a left and make our way through Central Park when we stopped at a traffic light and I decided to start my riff. With a completely straight face, I said, “I think Budd and his friends are going to be murdered. This is horrible. What are we doing leaving? We’ve got to go back there and see if we can help.”
“They’ll be fine,” the others said.
But I protested and said, “No, no. How are we going to feel if they get murdered? These guys look really dangerous and we should go back.”
Well, just about then I looked out the window and noticed a couple of mounted police officers on horseback. I rolled down the window and said, “Look, officers, I’m a comedian. I just came from the Improv. It’s on the corner of West 44th Street and Ninth Avenue. You’ve got to do me a favor. You’ve got to go back.” By this point, the other comics were totally buying into it and they thought I was saying this because I was genuinely concerned about Budd’s safety.
That’s when I delivered the punch line. Still with a completely straight face, I said, “And find out who Budd Friedman is. When you do, tell him that Richard Lewis wants to work both shows this Saturday night.” With that, the guys started just laugh
ing their asses off. I swear to God, it was maybe the biggest laugh of my career.
SHELLEY ACKERMAN:
I’ll tell you how picking up the acts’ cab fare between the two clubs started. One night around the end of 1972, not long after Rick opened, I got a frantic call during prime time one Saturday night from Bill Mahru who was emceeing up at Catch. We were pretty friendly and he said, “Shelley, I’m stuck. The house is packed. I need acts.”
So I said, “Will you give them cab fare?”
“Yes,” he said.
Then I added, “And dinner?”
“Yes.”
That was all it took. I got Marty Nadler, Jimmie Walker, and about two others, and I sent them uptown. This is what started the shuttle between both clubs and the comics getting fed. Once Rick started doing it, we did, too.
RICK NEWMAN:
The night I opened, I threw a fiftieth birthday party for boxer Rocky Graziano just to get the press there. He had absolutely nothing to do with the concept, but it created a buzz. Comedian Jackie Kannon, a friend of Rocky’s who had a place in the East Fifties called Jackie Kannon’s Ratfink Room, was there, and it got us a ton of ink. Syndicated columnist Earl Wilson wrote me up and there was also a big piece in the show-business trade Backstage. So the press was plentiful, and in the weeks leading up to the opening, I took out these little square ads in all the New York papers like the Post, the Daily News, and The Village Voice that said: “Catch A Rising Star Is Opening.” It included the location and [a note]: “For producers, studio executives, network people, managers, and agents—we are going to pre-screen and pre-audition all the major talent, so you can come in and rest assured that you are going to see the best of the best.”
I also told talent in the same ads that we were going to have network people, talent people, managers, and talent scouts. All I did was play both ends against the middle, and it was the perfect storm because everybody came on a very regular basis from the get-go. I also wasn’t paying attention to what was happening over at Budd’s place. I just wanted to get them into mine.
Look, he might have felt, “Well, you opened what I did,” but I can honestly say that was never my intention. I opened a performance club and then when there were comedians we were both using, I started to call over to the Improv because my shows kept up all night. People kept coming in and the acts would leave, so I’d call up Budd and go, “Do you have anybody you can send over?” It became a regular thing for us to pick up the phone and call each other. Some nights he was busier and some nights I was busier.
It also didn’t bother me in the least to give the comics cab fare or give them free food and drinks. I thought nothing of it to give them a soda, or a hamburger, or a steak sandwich on the house. What a lot of them did was wrap the food up in a napkin and take it home or they’d pocket the cab fare and ride the bus instead, but I was just fine with that.
CRAIG TENNIS:
I always liked both of them—and I’m not sure what their relationship was—although I have to admit that when I found out that Rick was opening a similar club to Budd’s, my first impulse was that it wouldn’t work. I thought Budd had a lock on it, which he did, but the other reason I thought Catch wouldn’t work was because there were already a couple of other comedy rooms out on Long Island and they seemed to be struggling.
As it turns out, I was obviously wrong because the Upper East Side was a neighborhood you wanted to be in, whereas Hell’s Kitchen was one that when you left at two o’clock in the morning, you were taking your life into your hands. I also thought the emphasis would be more music than comedy, and when the comedy part took off I was surprised. To say that I didn’t think that Rick had a prayer in hell presenting comedians would be kind of extreme, although if he had asked me to invest in the beginning, I probably wouldn’t have.
Also, when it comes to the difference between their personalities, it was like night and day. If I remember correctly, Rick was more of a table hopper. He wanted to make sure his customers were happy. That was never Budd’s intention. In other words, he wanted people there, but he wasn’t the type to go out of his way to keep them happy. There were many times when he’d get up onstage and berate the comics and the cook and do jokes at other people’s expense. That was just who Budd was and you accepted it. I don’t remember Rick Newman ever getting up on the mic, although he may have.
But Budd would get up there and he’d just rip people. Like if somebody would come from the bathroom, he’d say, “Sit down, I’m talking. I’ll let you know when you can go to the restroom.” It wasn’t mean-spirited, although I think Budd wanted to do stand-up himself. Of course, it wasn’t going to happen except in his club, and he seized the opportunity whenever he could. Everybody just said, “That’s Budd.” Again, though, I don’t think that anybody was ever offended unless they were from Omaha.
Publicity photo of the New York Improv taken shortly after the club opened in 1963.
Very early photo of the New York Improv show room in the 1960s with a chalkboard menu.
Actors Michele Lee, Rudy Vallee, and Robert Morse at the New York Improv in the early 1960s.
Budd with Rodney Dangerfield and actor-comedian Ron Carey at the New York Improv in the 1960s.
Judy Garland and her son-in-law Peter Allen, Liza Minnelli’s first husband, at the New York Improv in the early 1960s.
Group photo at the New York Improv, around 1980. Courtesy of Judy Orbach.
Comedians at the New York Improv from the late 1970s to the early ’80s. Courtesy of Judy Orbach.
Jerry Seinfeld and Barry Diamond
Paul Provenza and Rick Overton
Paul Reiser
Budd with Laverne & Shirley stars Cindy Williams (left) and Penny Marshall (right) at the Hollywood Improv in the late 1970s.
Budd at the Hollywood Improv after the 1979 fire.
Budd and comedian Phil Silvers hosting An Evening at the Improv in the 1980s.
Budd with former Tonight Show bandleader Doc Severinsen and talent manager Bud Robinson at the Hollywood Improv in the 1980s.
Budd with Andy Kaufman at the Hollywood Improv in the early 1980s.
Budd and his oldest daughter Beth with comedians Tom Smothers (left) and George Carlin (center left) at the Hollywood Improv in the mid-1980s.
Budd with his family in the mid-1980s.
Budd with daughter Zoe and wife Alix at the Hollywood Improv in the early 1990s.
Budd and Bette Middler at the Hollywood Improv in the late 1980s.
The 1989 Hollywood Free Clinic Roast of Budd. Front row (left to right): Bette Midler, Budd, Garry Marshall, and Paul Rodriguez. Back row (left to right): Dale Gonyea, Brandon Tartikoff, Wil Shriner, Harvey Korman, Danny Aiello, and Pat McCormick.
Budd with Oprah Winfrey and Robin Williams when Oprah hosted her talk show at the Hollywood Improv in 1989.
Exterior shot of the Hollywood Improv in the early 1990s.
Budd with Merv Griffin and Donald Trump at Griffin’s Resorts Casino Hotel in Atlantic City in the 1990s.
Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara in New York City in the 1990s. Courtesy of Stiller and Meara Enterprises.
Budd with Freddie Prinze Jr. and Jay Leno at the Hollywood Improv in the early 1990s.
Budd with Paul Giamatti, Jim Carrey, and Danny DeVito on the set of Andy Kaufman’s biopic Man on the Moon in 1998.
Adam Sandler at the Hollywood Improv. Photo by Mike Carano.
David Spade at the Hollywood Improv. Photo by Mike Carano.
Bill Maher at the Hollywood Improv. Photo by Mike Carano.
Richard Lewis at the Hollywood Improv. Photo by Mike Carano.
Jimmy Fallon at the Hollywood Improv. Photo by Josh Paul.
Budd with Mike Myers, Helen Hunt, and Kevin Spacey backstage at the Las Vegas Improv in 2002.
Budd and Alix with Lily Tomlin in Washington, DC, at the Mark Twain Awards in 2003.
2010 publicity photo of Unfair & Unbalanced, Robert Klein’s ninth HBO special. Photograph courtesy of
HBO®.
MICHAEL GOLDSTEIN:
Besides all of the ways that Catch ultimately benefited both Budd and Rick, I think the biggest way it helped was that it definitely forced Budd to be nicer because both clubs were competing for comedians and they were fighting for loyalties.
MIKE PREMINGER:
One night I was up at Catch and Budd was there also. Rick came up to me, whispered in my ear, and asked me what I wanted to eat. I thought he was joking, and before I could think of how much it was going to cost me, he said, “It’s all on me.” Then he said, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll bring you a steak.” And true to his word, which Rick always was, he brought me a steak and it was delicious. I hadn’t eaten all day and I was starving. But I was also shocked because the only other place I had ever worked at that point was the Improv and Budd had never offered me so much as a piece of bread before. I was dumbfounded.
The Improv Page 18
