Editor's Notes
Well, this is a little intimidating. I've checked out other comic's blogs and it seems they usually involve some intricate, details involving their personal struggles in the industry. They often have probing insights into the psyche of the artists and to put it simply, that's a little initimidating for me on my first entry ever. I also feel that I'd like to maybe start off with a stronger foundation, you know like give me and my craft a context and a sense of history. Consequently, for the inaugural entry for this editorial, I will present the transcripts of an interview I had with local comedy legend "Rapid Fire" Reggie Auburn who's been performing stand up here in Toronto since the 1940s. Without further ado, here's the interview.
12-08-05
"Rapid Fire" Reggie Auburn (RF) agrees to meet me at a local pub and eatery on John street. It doubles an open mic show on Sundays and when I ask him if it took him long to find the places he leads off with a zinger telling me that it only took him two minutes since he lives in the garbage bin next door.
RF: At night I can see all those young whores come out of the clubs and their faggy boyfriends throw good food in the bin. It's still warm.
NS: Haha. Good one, Reggie. So how'd you get started in comedy?
RF: In the forties, I came back from the war. I started my act as soon as I got back to help the nation heal. I had a killer set.
NS: That why they called you "Rapid Fire"?
RF: No. They called me "Rapid Fire" 'cause when a car backfired I'd flashback to Normandy and just start shooting or curl up and start crying depending on how much I'd had to drink.
NS: Haha. Funny stuff.
RF: Killed two men that way. By accident. It's okay though. They were blacks. What the hell are you doing?
NS: I thought I'd just rewind the tape and erase-
RF: You ain't erasing a goddamn thing. Some of my best friends are black.
NS: So, Harry, what's kept you going in this industry for so long?
RF: Fear.
NS: Okay. Who would you say is the best comic going right now?
RF: They're all shit. You gonna eat those?
He's referring to the plate of wings I ordered that's just arrived. I almost get out my "you can have some" before he reaches over with his Bram Stoker Nosferatu hands speckled with what I hope are liver spots. They overshoot their mark and close over two innocent wings, the thick brown nails dragging against the plate leaving residue that looks like the ash from a burned soul.
NS: Skipped breakfast?
RF: Clubs pay in beer. They've left me with nothing but a gaping whole where the best years of my life were before they took them.
Despite this horrible revellation, I still notice that chicken sprays from his mouth like buckshot onto the plate below. They're his now.
NS: So Reggie, any advice for up and coming comedians?
RF: If you can do anything else, fucking do it. If not, for the love of god, don't say anything people will remember.
I start to understand that Reggie is one of those comics who are "always on." Disappointing as I was hoping for some real historical gold.
NS: On a serious note: anything to add?
RF: I'll pay you three hundred bucks to spank my naked ass.
NS: Seriously, Reggie.
RF: Seriously. I don't have the money but fucking do it.
I leave disappointed in the lack of information but hopeful that despite the industry being what it is, it still lets you come out of everything with a sense of humour.
12-08-05
"Rapid Fire" Reggie Auburn (RF) agrees to meet me at a local pub and eatery on John street. It doubles an open mic show on Sundays and when I ask him if it took him long to find the places he leads off with a zinger telling me that it only took him two minutes since he lives in the garbage bin next door.
RF: At night I can see all those young whores come out of the clubs and their faggy boyfriends throw good food in the bin. It's still warm.
NS: Haha. Good one, Reggie. So how'd you get started in comedy?
RF: In the forties, I came back from the war. I started my act as soon as I got back to help the nation heal. I had a killer set.
NS: That why they called you "Rapid Fire"?
RF: No. They called me "Rapid Fire" 'cause when a car backfired I'd flashback to Normandy and just start shooting or curl up and start crying depending on how much I'd had to drink.
NS: Haha. Funny stuff.
RF: Killed two men that way. By accident. It's okay though. They were blacks. What the hell are you doing?
NS: I thought I'd just rewind the tape and erase-
RF: You ain't erasing a goddamn thing. Some of my best friends are black.
NS: So, Harry, what's kept you going in this industry for so long?
RF: Fear.
NS: Okay. Who would you say is the best comic going right now?
RF: They're all shit. You gonna eat those?
He's referring to the plate of wings I ordered that's just arrived. I almost get out my "you can have some" before he reaches over with his Bram Stoker Nosferatu hands speckled with what I hope are liver spots. They overshoot their mark and close over two innocent wings, the thick brown nails dragging against the plate leaving residue that looks like the ash from a burned soul.
NS: Skipped breakfast?
RF: Clubs pay in beer. They've left me with nothing but a gaping whole where the best years of my life were before they took them.
Despite this horrible revellation, I still notice that chicken sprays from his mouth like buckshot onto the plate below. They're his now.
NS: So Reggie, any advice for up and coming comedians?
RF: If you can do anything else, fucking do it. If not, for the love of god, don't say anything people will remember.
I start to understand that Reggie is one of those comics who are "always on." Disappointing as I was hoping for some real historical gold.
NS: On a serious note: anything to add?
RF: I'll pay you three hundred bucks to spank my naked ass.
NS: Seriously, Reggie.
RF: Seriously. I don't have the money but fucking do it.
I leave disappointed in the lack of information but hopeful that despite the industry being what it is, it still lets you come out of everything with a sense of humour.
