Comedy career tricky business

Things have changed big time for some comedians since the Riviera Comedy Club opened in 1986.

For others, not so much.

Jeff Dunham still has a check from the club’s early days. “I did 21 shows for $738,” says the ventriloquist who is playing the Colosseum at Caesars Palace on Dec. 4.

The Riviera was still a front-line property then, so the comedians had to stay at a rundown motel next door. “It was as trashy as trash could be. I was robbed there one time,” Dunham recalls with a chuckle.

Mitchell Walters at least gets to stay in the Riviera now. And the veteran comedian is proud to say he co-wrote and stars in a new independent movie, “Uncle Melvin’s Apartment.”

But he’s not quite working the 4,200-seat Colosseum.

After Walters headlines the last show to close the Riv club today, he’ll be looking for his next gig on the Strip. “Hopefully I’ll get into the Trop with Brad Garrett.”

Walters never won the lottery like Dunham and remains among the countless working pros who depend on the comedy club format. He was one of Sam Kinison’s “Outlaws of Comedy,” playing big ballrooms in the late 1980s. On the night of the Iraq invasion in 2003, there was Walters, trying to ease the mood at the Tropicana’s Comedy Stop.

But now, he is part of the shuffle. “If I can just get a couple of weeks a year here and start doing cruises again. I’m too old to run to Iowa for three nights.”

Dependable comics feel the pull of too many comedy rooms on the Strip. Venues want exclusivity, so Walters says some comics work under fake names.

It’s silly, he says, because tourists turn over every few days. “If you’re not a television actor (who sells tickets by name), what’s the difference if you play here and then you play there the following week?”

When Bobby Slayton headlined Hooters Hotel, Walters worked anonymously as his longtime friend’s opening act. “I was 200 yards from the Tropicana (which then housed the Comedy Stop). Nobody even knew that I was working there. I just packed my suitcase and rolled it 200 feet down the road.”

If a club owner can offer enough weeks in a year, “I’ll stay loyal,” he says. But he also sees their side. “There’s so many guys, why would he pay a guy $2,500 or $3,000 when he can get some middle act from California for $800 who is just dying to come to Las Vegas?”

But somehow, Walters seems more durable than the rooms he’s playing. “I couldn’t wait to get on the plane,” the Long Islander says of his umpteenth trip to the Strip. “Who knows? They might realize they need a comedy room here.”

Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at mweatherford@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.