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“Sherman, set the Wayback Machine to 1996.”

“You mean to ancient times, Mr. Peabody?”

“Indeed, Sherman, the proverbial ‘good old days.’”

“Okay, Mr. Peabody, here we goooooo…”

In the spring of 1996, I was a touring comedian based out of Chicago. Earlier that year, I had scored the biggest gig of my career to that point – co-writing and hosting the first (and only) season of A&E’s ‘The Straight Dope.’ It was a twisted Q&A show based on the syndicated column that appeared in the city’s free entertainment weekly, the Chicago Reader.

The funny thing was, the Straight Dope director Andy Rosen had been searching for the ‘long-haired, chain-smoking ball-buster’ type to host the show. Instead he chose me, a shaved-headed, smart ass who’s allergic to nicotine.

Close enough, I guess.

At the time, I was a regular at Zanies Comedy Club in Chicago’s Old Town district. I’d do weekly guest spots there and occasionally got paid to host shows and middle for the big-name headliners who’d pass through town.

The Invite

One Monday afternoon that same spring, Zanies’ GM Bert Haas called me up out of the blue.

“Hey Mike. Bert from Zanies. How are you?”

He didn’t really want to know – who does?

“Doing great Bert, what’s up?”

“Well, just got word that Jay Leno’s Tonight Show folks want to see some comedians at the club tomorrow night. Wondering if you wanted to do a set?”

That’s like asking my dog Vincent if he wants a bite of your gyro.

I punched the air like I’d just won the Tour de France and then quickly composed myself.

“Absolutely, Bert. Thanks.”
“Just need a tight five.”
“Great, I’ve got the perfect ten.”

Silence.

“Kidding. I’ll do five.”
“See you tomorrow night for the 8:00 p.m. show, Mike.”
“I’ll be there, Bert, thanks again.”

Holy crap, I was going to try out for the Tonight Show. My big break!

I grew up watching Jonny Carson host that show and saw all my comedy heroes doing sets in that studio. For comedians, doing a spot on the Tonight Show was a sign that you’d made it.

In other words, I had zero-to-no chance of getting it, but what the hell, it’s always nice to be asked.

The Audition

Turns out the new host of the Tonight Show Jay Leno was in Chicago that week taping five episodes at the Rosemont Theatre. His head writer and standup booker Jimmy Brogan was scouting local talent to maybe find someone to do a set at the end of that week.

I spent the next day and a half Frankensteining together the best five minute set I could come up with. It featured all my greatest hits, including ‘Cruel Alarm Clock’, the ‘Bed Seduction’, and ‘Golf Suck.’

Those bits were my comedy Stairway to Heaven, Bohemian Rhapsody, and Freebird.

By the time Tuesday night arrived, word had gotten out in the city that Leno’s crew would be scouting the show at Zanies, so by showtime the tiny, narrow club was packed well over the 100 person limit.

Bert explained how the lineup would go – there would be a local opener to warm up the crowd for a few minutes, then the 10 five-minute guest spots would go up. To close the show, the scheduled headliner would do a shortened version of his set.

The ten of us ‘chosen few’ waited nervously upstairs in the Zanies greenroom which already reeked of flop sweat and old carpet musk. The showroom audience downstairs was hot – we could feel their eager buzz right through the club’s ancient floorboards. Each of us were mentally running through our sets as we pretended to listen to what the others were saying.

Bert finally pinned up ‘the list.’

All ten comics crowded around to see what slot we were in the show. My act has big energy, so I was scheduled to go on tenth. Not ideal having to follow so many other talented performers, but I pretended it meant I was the showcase ‘headliner’ and vowed to up my comedy game accordingly.

Then my anxiety and I had to patiently wait through the entire showcase. My nine comedy friends all took their turn killing on stage downstairs. From the greenroom bathroom (that’s where I took my mandatory pre-show dump), I could hear the distant howls of laughter and applause. My nerves craved a shot of bourbon or a quick toke to calm them down, but I didn’t dare do anything to mess up my chances.

Yes, I thoroughly washed my hands after I flushed.

When it was finally my turn to perform, I remember standing at the back of the club in the dark waiting to be introduced. My nervy stomach was still twisted up like a teenage pretzel. I remember hoping the crowd wasn’t too burned out from listening to so many great bits already.

Didn’t matter, I told myself – it was my job to kill despite that.

Then the MC said the magic words: “Please welcome our final showcasing talent, Mike Lukas.”

I took the stage, fought through the nerves, and delivered the best set of my life.

I’m not kidding, it was a comedian’s dream come true. Every setup got laughs and every punchline got applause. That five minutes on stage lasted forever. It felt like hitting the game winning homerun and getting the girl all mixed into one gorgeous cocktail.

By the time I was done and got off the stage the entire crowd let out a roar. I was on cloud 10 because cloud 9 couldn’t handle it. As I walked past the bar in the back, I tried not to look at Jimmy Brogan and his writers who were sitting at a table nearby.

But Jimmy and his crew made that impossible by following me into the back room.

He smiled and stuck out his hand.

“Hi Mike, Jimmy Brogan. Great set.”

I shook the Tonight Show comedy booker’s hand with my sweaty mitt.

Oh Lord.

“Wow, thanks Jimmy.”

The other writers also shook my firm yet moist hand.

Then as the headliner took the stage, Jimmy leaned in and whispered, “Mike, we’re looking for someone to do a set on Friday’s show at the Rosemont, sort of a local guy makes good. Are you interested?”

Hey Vincent, you want some filet mignon with that gyro?

“Yeah, sure. Sounds great, Jimmy. Thanks.”
“All right, give these guys your information and we’ll be in touch.”

The Call

The next few days I waited for the call, and on Thursday it finally came.

“Hey Mike, Jimmy Brogan here.”
“Hey Jimmy, thanks for the call.”
“Well, Mike, unfortunately it’s not good news.”

Aw, shoot. My heart sank. They must have figured out I actually suck.

“Oh yeah? What’s up?”
“Well, turns out for tomorrow’s taping we booked a different Michael to show up. Ever hear of Michael Jordan?”

I laughed.

“Sorry, remind me? Kidding. Yes, I’m aware of Chicago’s other Michael.”
“Well, with him on the show, I’m afraid there won’t be enough time for your set.”
“Ah, dang. Okay. That’s too bad.”
“However…”

Oh please, oh please, oh please…

“…to make it up to you, how about if we fly you to L.A. and have you do your set on the show there?”

Yo, Vincent, you want an entire side of beef with some belly rubs?

“Absolutely, Jimmy. Just let me know when and I’m there.”
“I’ll have my office set it up. They’ll give you a call in the next couple of weeks.”
“Thanks. This is amazing.”
“I’ll bet. See you in L.A., Mike.”

I hung up the phone and immediately called Bert Haas.

“Hey Bert, Mike Lukas here.”
“Hey Mike, what’s up?”
“Just found out Jimmy’s giving me a spot.”
“Oh yeah? Congratulations. When?”
“Next couple of weeks.”
“Well, let me know when it happens, and we’ll have you headline that weekend.”
“What about whoever’s already working?”
“Oh, he’ll still get paid and do sets. But this way Jay will give the club a plug on national TV.”

Ah, smart.

The Set

Two weeks later in May, the Tonight Show flew me to Los Angeles where my friend Graham Elwood picked my up from LAX and put me up.

The next afternoon, the show sent a car. Graham and I rode to the NBC studios, and he sat with me in my very own Tonight Show dressing room. He cracked me up so much during that time that I almost forgot what I was about to do.

Right before the show began, I was led down the hall to get my makeup done. Actor Anthony Edwards (ER, Top Gun, Revenge of the Nerds) was sitting in the chair next to me reading a script. I leaned over and introduced myself and shook his hand. Anthony gave me the ‘who let this unknown fool in here’ look that celebrities must practice in the mirror.

On the lineup for that show was Edwards first, then actress Alyssa Milano (Who’s the Boss?, Charmed), a talented blues singer whose name escapes me, and then me. While Graham and I watched the other guests do their spots, we wolfed down the complimentary food in the gift basket they’d left for me. After my mandatory pre-show dump, the show’s staff quickly steamed my shirt. Eventually the sound engineer came in and hooked me up with a lavalier mic.

When it was my turn to perform, the stage director came and got me from my dressing room. Instead of soiling my show pants, I took a deep breath and high-fived Graham.

“It’s his first time on national television, you can see him this fall hosting A&E’s The Straight Dope and this weekend at Zanies Comedy Club in Chicago, please help me welcome comedian Mike Lukas.”

Then the curtains split open, the TV lights smacked me in the face, and the studio audience gave me a thunderous welcome.

It was finally my big moment to shine.

In a dreamscape blur, I delivered my set without missing a single word or beat or joke. I was extra hyper (good Lord) but I still got big laughs and applause breaks throughout my entire act. Afterwards, the crowd went nuts and Jay had me come over and sit between him and Alyssa Milano. He shook my hand and with a Hollywood grin congratulated me on breaking my television cherry.

Later that night, a few friends and I watched my set air at another L.A. comedian’s apartment.

Then, because it was Los Angeles and not Chicago, there was no barhopping and zero all-night drinking to celebrate my big win. Instead, we all separated and went to bed like professionals.

Ho hum. Just another typical day in La La Land.

Not for me, though.

The Take

Doing my standup comedy set on the Tonight Show was a childhood dream come true. When that set went so well, it proved to the insecure part of me that I did in fact belong.

From that moment on, comedy clubs began to consider me a ‘bona fide’ headliner thanks to that Tonight Show credit on my resume. My weekly pay nearly tripled, and some previously closed doors began to crack open. I even got a manager out of the deal.

I’ll forever be grateful to Jay, Jimmy, Bert, Graham, Andy and all the other players for that incredible memory.

It’s hokey, but dreams do come true. Mine came through with an unforgettable thrill of a lifetime plus a complimentary wicker gift basket that I still have on my desk to this day.

Shoot, I hope I was allowed to take that home with me – maybe Anthony Edwards had a point.

Anyway, I’m afraid this story ends on a sad note as I must now go break it to my poor dog Vincent that all that meat I promised him was just a metaphor.

Okay, maybe SOME dreams don’t come true. Whatever.

I’ll still follow through on the belly rubs.

==========

“Boy Mr. Peabody, the 1996 comedy scene sure had its fair share of admirable people to look up to.”

“Perhaps to you, Sherman, although not from a canine’s perspective.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Peabody?”

“Well, Sherman, if you’ll recall, in this story, Vincent the dog never did find his true gyro.”