Stoddard Brush with Second City Greatness

I do not know if Lewis Grizzard ever went to The Second City while he lived in Chicago. If he had he would have enjoyed political incorrectness, the likes of which he made famous shortly after his return to Atlanta in 1977.

Had he gone during his Chicago years he would have seen John Belushi, Gilda Radner, John Candy, Dan Aykroyd, Jane Curtain, Eugene Levy and Bill Murray. Would he have related to them? Maybe not. But how could he not think they were funny.

Fast forward to 1996. I lived in Chicago and was in the trade show business with a global company called Giltspur. It primarily made exhibits but was the first to introduce innovative Marketing Services. I was the Chicago Giltspur account executive who at least somewhat understood Marketing Services.

For instance, at a Sherwin Williams national convention at the Opryland Hotel in Nashville we hired about 20 caricature artists to allow a division of Sherwin Williams enough time to deliver a chemical coatings message to Sherwin Williams store managers while they sat to have their caricatures done.

So I got a call from the Marketing Services honcho out of Giltspur Corporate in Pittsburgh to ask if I am available for a sales call the following week. She could not tell me who we were calling on, but I was available.

I welcomed any chance to sell something that was not reliant on our union carpentry shop that routinely blew budgets out of the water by virtue of their union mentality and frequent breaks so they could milk jobs into overtime. Don’t get me started.

The day before the sales call the Pittsburgh lady said we were calling on a Joyce Sloane at The Second City about the prospect of collaborating to do “business theater” for Giltspur clients at trade shows and special events.

My jaw dropped. I did not know Joyce Sloane real well by name but had heard of her. I missed very few Second City shows when I lived in Chicago. During my Chicago years the cast included Steve Carrell, Stephen Colbert, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler and George Wendt. I was about to wet my pants. Okay, I did wet my pants, but they were dark pants.

So we go on this sales call and meet in Joyce Sloane’s office. I had no time to prepare anything and was not expected to present anything. If things clicked I would be the local liaison.

That day I could tell there was little chemistry between the very high energy Pittsburgh lady and the relaxed Joyce Sloane. Second City had an abundance of talent - not the already famous folks - who needed work. In my mind I could think of a half dozen of only my own clients whose jaws would drop if I could bring them Second City talent for some edgy entertainment.

But again, I detected a chemistry issue. I feared nothing was going to happen if things were left as they were after that meeting. Without asking or telling anyone I called Joyce Sloane and requested a one on one appointment. She readily agreed saying something like, “You didn’t say much the other day.”

When we hung up I wet my dark pants all over again. By this time I knew who Joyce Sloan was. And I had an idea.

That summer TS2, the trade show for trade show people, was to be held at McCormick Place in Chicago. Their programs were no doubt booked, but they would surely squeeze in a program involving national powerhouse Giltspur and Chicago powerhouse The Second City.

So I hand wrote a script. It included lines like, “How many teamsters does it take to hang a picture in a McCormick Place exhibit during show setup?” Answer: “None you moron. If the picture hangs with pinch cleats dat’s carpenters’ union work. If the picture hangs with velcro dat’s decorators’ union work.”

When I met with Joyce I asked her to spill about John Belushi sleeping on her couch, Gilda Radner crying on her shoulder and a whole lot else. I had early internet and dial up AOL and had done my homework. Joyce had probably told those stories a bunch of times but apparently did not tire of telling them. When I could tell my time might be running out - after about an hour - I made my pitch.

The Second City and Giltspur needed to pull off a coup at the TS2 that summer. We needed to do it fast, and I had the script the audience would love - except for maybe union members. The trade show people in the audience largely detested unions, who cost them tens of thousands of dollars each year, especially in places like Chicago where shop stewards would bicker on the exhibitor’s clock about what union had jurisdiction over hanging pictures any moron could hang if allowed.

Joyce looked over my maybe 10 page handwritten script as I sat silent. She grinned and actually laughed a few times, so I felt good. Then she put down the script and said, “I detest scripts.”

I may have wet my pants again, this time not in a good way. I waited, and Joyce explained. “We have tried shows with scripts before. They have always failed miserably. Our talent thrives on improv. Give them a concept and let them run with it.”

“But our new people need work. You know the trade show arena, and they do not. If this can work perhaps you can give them some latitude to not adhere to a strict script. Perhaps you can sit in on some try run sessions to make sure they do not step out of bounds.” I wet my pants again, we agreed to meet again and I bid a hasty exit before urine soaked her office guest seat.

Weeks passed but we stayed in touch. Joane departed for Second City Toronto, then a vacation maybe to Europe. We each recognized urgency to resume when she returned. I still told no one until I knew what to tell someone about anything.

My biggest client was AT&T Network Systems, soon a/k/a Lucent. Big budgets disappeared overnight. I was recruited by a company who did corporate hospitality at the Super Bowl, the NCAA Final Four, Kentucky Derby and more. In one of untold monumentally bad decisions in my career, I left Giltspur and sent Joyce a letter that I was leaving. Why did I not ask her for a job? Because they probably could not have paid me. Their staff was lean - all their money went to on stage talent. Still, I could have paid my own way given the chance and a telephone.

Not too long thereafter my now ex-wife and I left Chicago.

I never contacted Joyce again. At some point Joyce and others launched Second City Works.

Since moving back to Georgia I contacted the head of the current version of Wits’ End Players, Atlanta’s closest thing to The Second City. Dick Van Dyke got it started with the parents of the current head, who went to my high school. He kinda blew me off over lunch saying there was little market for “business theater” or whatever one wants to call it. “Think Wits”, as the outfit is now known, does “Brand Experiences” and other stuff that to me sounds a lot like business theater.