Goodnight Improv Boston

When I first set foot in the theater it went by a different name than it does now. Back in those days they were calling it “The Back Alley Theatre.” This was, I’m gonna take a stab here, back in 93’-94’. I had decided to take an improv class and at the time there was only one place, that I knew of, to do so- Improv Boston. The Theater itself, way back when, went by another name but the company itself was called “Improv Boston.”

There were a couple of things that I loved about taking that class. The first was the other people in the class. Everyone was older than me and they were characters. I can remember one guy vividly. He had a lisp and would repeat the last word of everything he said. Said… Like that. Which made for weird scenes whenever you watched him or performed with him. The other thing that struck me was how awesome the space was. It looked a little different in those days. For one thing: the seats were on the opposite side of the room, where the stage is now, which made for a nice layout. Although the current configuration is why I fell in love with the place.

It’s a classic Theater because it has those amazing theatery-style seats. Three raised rows and enough room to add more chairs in front when we were lucky enough to get a packed house. Which was more often than I could wish for. (Making the price free and handing out beer helped.) But it’s the signature Brick Wall that made the Theater timeless.

Now, since we’re getting all nostalgic, lets take a swig of the free PBR that we have hidden under our chairs- inside of a flashlight- and then go outside, grab James “The Geograflight News Guy” and ask him if we can borrow his time machine. “James, take us back to the night of Tony Moschetto’s show during the Boston Comedy Festival in 2002.”

Tony Moschetto was performing his one man show at the Theater and before it started I was sitting, in the bleachers, with Tom Dustin. We were both looking to start a comedy show someplace that wasn’t a regular comedy club. Dustin was the first one of us to speak aloud what we were both thinking, “This’d be a great place to do a show!”
“Yeah, you’re right…" I said, "and I never thought to look here. I forgot all about this place.” (Up to that point I'd been checking coffee shops and pizza parlors.) We talked about it some more and then I asked him, “Would you mind if I asked the guy in charge if my brother and I could do a show here?” And Tom said "go right ahead."

I asked around and got in touch with Will Luera, the Artistic Director. I told him that we had a performance scheduled later in the week, for the fest, and that we were looking for a place to produce a show. I lied to him and told him that a lot of the people involved had already been on Comedy Central. (Maybe it was somewhat true.) He came by later in the week and watched us perform. I suppose whatever he saw was good enough to warrant giving us a shot.

Eventually, we arrived at Thursday as the best night and Ten o’clock: the right time. We kept pushing back the date and decided that it’d start up in September, after Labor Day. I remember being extremely excited about having a show to work on. From the outset we were ambitious. The first week we booked all of our favorite comedians, only we had to cancel because there was no audience, though. Back to square one. Everybody got ice cream at Christina’s next door and sat around talking about the possibilities.
The next week there was a show but only because my girlfriend, Brooke, brought some friends. Our first audience was about nine people. They were theater folks so they were extremely supportive and we had a good time. It was a start…

In time we decided to keep the show free. We also threw in a Thirty Pack of free beer every week to draw people in. Traditionally our show started on the street about an hour or so beforehand. We would scream and shout about how great our “free comedy show” was. The Great and Secret moniker was one that I stole from a book I had read a few years before written by Clive Barker. I thought it was a fitting name because we were working our asses off to get people in the seats and make them laugh. Yet nobody seemed to know we were there. That changed a little over time. This was also around the same period that our battle with the neighbors began.

They had a problem with us using bullhorns to advertise our show. At first, we were told to “keep the loudness down after ten.” Then, “no bullhorns at all.” We conformed. Then, "no shouting on the street." Over the next four or five years the rules got more strict. Eventually the precedent was set: "no performing outside on the street, at all." Let’s just say, by the time we left town there were a lot more rules. Things change. Even in the early stages some of the tenants above the theater were uncool. There was a time or two when we almost came to blows.

To be truthful, we were responsible for causing a lot of problems in that space. What with the free beer, parties after the show until sunup the next day, blasting music at four in the morning, live bands, stolen cars, axes in the ceiling… We could have been smarter. At least when it came to sound levels. But the show stayed alive.

What an amazing place to perform. I don’t know exactly what it was. Maybe that you performed on the same level as the audience, or that they were so close you could touch 'em… Maybe it was because we never used microphones or that a lot of the audience came back, week in and week out. Whatever it was, I loved performing in that theater. It was the best. I want to live there. For ever.

We had multiple incarnations of our show, a shit load of people peformed, and tons of great memories. It was the place where David and I "figured it out" and began our career together. A place where anyone could do whatever they wanted. The only limit was our own imagination. Anything was possible. I've never been as comfortable on any other stage. Most of the best nights of my life were spent in that building. Some, honest to God, story book moments. Now, it'll be turned into ice cream storage. I'll regard the loss of The Improv Boston Theater as I would the passing of a close friend.

I know, I know, the show will go on. It’s only moving to Central Square... And I hope to perform in that space too. It sounds cool. But, when you get right down to it, there’s only one Improv Boston. I wish I could have been there for the last hurrah but unfortunately I couldn't make it... I’m in Los Angeles. Working on an all new Great and Secret Comedy Show.