The Mind of a Comic

Born Standing Up: A Comic’s Life by Steve Martin

originally published April 23, 2008

There’s an old joke that goes like this: A man walks into a doctor’s office. He says “Doctor, I’m terribly depressed. Nothing cheers me up; there is no joy in my life. Can you help me?” The physician says, “I have just the thing. The great clown Cabrini is playing tonight at the opera house. He will make you laugh your troubles away without fail.” The man shakes his head and says ”Ah, that’s the problem, Doctor. I am Cabrini.“

There is more than a little Cabrini in comedian Steve Martin’s autobiography Born Standing Up: A Comic’s Life (Scribner, 2007). Although the book is full of warm and funny moments, a faint melancholy air flits through it like the tune of an old music box. Martin confesses his mixed emotions in his introduction: (In a sense, this book is not an autobiography, but a biography, because I am writing about someone I used to know. Yes, these events are true, yet sometimes they seemed to have happened to someone else, and I often felt like a curious onlooker or someone trying to remember a dream.“

Martin’s particular dream begins with a reasonably normal Southern California boyhood, darkened slightly by an emotionally distant father. As a boy, Martin’s first foray into showbiz was as a third-grade magician, but his first true apprenticeship in the entertainment world began when he was 10. Steve Martin was one of the first (and youngest) employees of the newly opened Disneyland. He remained for seven years, graduating from selling programs to managing the magic shop. He devotes an entire chapter to his time in the Magic Kingdom, and he remembers his colleagues with a warmth that seems charmingly genuine. He also recounts with great fondness his first job as a stage performer at Knott’s Berry Farm, where he played for three years in a theater called The Bird Cage. His account of his quiet return visit there 30 years later is one of the most moving parts of the book.

His memories of his college days and early career are similarly warm. But as the memoir moves into his years as a professional comedian, an unmistakably different tone emerges. We hear it first when he writes about his time as a writer on the Smothers Brothers show, when he experiences his first panic attack, and by the time he reaches his chapter on his time as a road comic, it is in full bloom. The tone is one of loneliness. All artists understand the loneliness that accompanies the act of creation, but for the comedian it is especially difficult, because unlike the painter or musician, the comic must guard against letting that emotion infect his work. Everyone likes a sad song every now and then; a sad comedian, not so much. Like the clown Cabrini, the comic must wear a happy face. This constant juxtaposition clearly took its toll on Steve Martin. His recounting of these days before money and fame reads like an old war story.

But even these years were valuable. As Martin writes: ”In this netherworld, I was free to experiment… There were no mentors to tell me what to do; there were no guidebooks for doing stand-up. Everything was learned in practice, and the lonely road, with no critical eyes watching, was the place to dig up my boldest, or dumbest, ideas and put them onstage.“ His act tightened, his reviews got better, and he began to draw larger audiences as a consequence. He even had a few appearances on Johnny Carson’s ”Tonight Show,“ the official stamp of approval for comedians in those days. None of his experience with success, though, could quite prepare him for what happened next.

In October 1976, Steve Martin appeared as guest host on a new TV show called ”Saturday Night Live.“ The next time he performed stand-up, something remarkable happened: 6,000 people showed up, twice the number of his largest previous draw. Steve Martin the phenomenon was born. He would ride the wave for six years. Two albums of his stand-up went platinum. At the height of his fame, he played in New York to an audience of 45,000 people. And then, in 1982, he quit. Just like that. He would never perform stand-up again. Born Standing Up ends there. Martin’s post-comic life will have its own volume. For now, we must be content with this elegant little book, maybe the best book ever written on the inner workings of the comic mind.

Pete McBrayer

Pete McBrayer is a local stand-up comic.