WHEN FAIR PAY FEELS LIKE TOO MUCH

I was standing outside an open mic in New Orleans recently, talking with another comic about my last show on the Northshore. The conversation eventually turned to what I pay the comedians I book.

 

He looked me right in the eye and said, “You pay comics too much.”

 

It had never occurred to me that I might be paying comics too much. I had to figure out how to produce comedy largely through risk, trial and error. Nobody handed me an established pay model. I simply paid what I thought was fair.

 

He was joking and trying to give me a hard time, but the joke stayed with me. It carried the suggestion that I was doing something wrong, or maybe trying too hard, by paying comics more than they were accustomed to making.

 

That was when it occurred to me that this was bigger than our local scene. Across comedy, low pay has been normal for so long that twenty-dollar sets, free drinks and unpaid stage time barely surprise us anymore. When someone offers more than that, even the comics receiving the money can wonder why.

 

Comedy has a strange relationship with money. We trade stories about terrible gigs, empty rooms and long drives for almost no pay. We laugh about those experiences because that is what we do. Somewhere along the way, however, struggling became so deeply connected to stand-up that being paid poorly started to feel like part of the job.

 

I live on the Northshore, so most of my gigs require me to travel more than 30 miles into another city. If I am going to New Orleans, there is gas, a six-dollar bridge toll and usually paid parking. Before the show begins, I can already be $20 or $30 in the hole.

 

That can turn a respectable $50 set payout into almost nothing very quickly. Some nights, a comedian can spend more getting to the gig than they make performing on it.

 

I became curious about whether that was just our experience, so I looked into what local comics are reportedly paid in larger comedy cities like New York, Austin and Chicago. Finding a reliable average was nearly impossible. Most venues do not publish their rates, and “local comic” can mean anything from a beginner doing five minutes to an established performer working a club showcase. What I found was not a scientific study, but the reported numbers sounded familiar. Published estimates and firsthand accounts often placed short local sets somewhere between nothing and $50. Some prominent Austin rooms have reportedly paid $75 or $100 for showcase spots, but those venues appear to be exceptions. New York Comedy Club currently charges comics $5 to perform at some of its open mics.

 

That almost makes paying more to park than you earn sound like an improvement.

 

A small payout is not automatically unfair. Sometimes it accurately reflects what the show earned. Shows cost money to produce, and some simply do not sell enough tickets to create much of a door. Larger cities Like New Orleans also have concerts, festivals, sporting events and hundreds of other live shows competing for the same audience. Sometimes there truly is not much money to divide.

 

That is not what I am talking about. I am talking about what happens when the audience does show up and there is money to divide. In those situations, I believe the performers should share meaningfully in the success they helped create.

 

My approach is a 70/30 split after expenses, with 70 percent going to the talent. I also guarantee a minimum because most of the comics I book are traveling to the Northshore from another city. That is the system that makes sense for my shows, but it is not the only fair way to produce comedy. Every room has different costs, audiences and limitations.

 

When my friend told me I paid comics too much, I asked him a simple question: “Do you think the comics are at least 70 percent of the reason the audience is here?”

 

After some discussion, he agreed. That question is at the heart of this for me. I am not suggesting that producers should lose money or that every comic deserves a large guarantee regardless of ticket sales. For me, transparency matters. Comics should understand the deal before accepting a show, and when a show succeeds, I believe the talent should benefit from that success.

 

When I ran a venue, I saw what local cover bands were paid. In almost every case, music paid considerably more than comedy. I am not arguing that musicians deserve less. I have just always wondered why comedy so often begins with the assumption that its performers should expect less.

 

Music may feel like a safer bet. Bands play familiar songs, people dance and the performance comes with instruments, effects and all the visible equipment of a live production. A comedian is just standing there with a microphone, trying to be funny.

 

That simplicity can make the work easier to undervalue. Someone may see a fifteen-minute set and assume there could not have been much work behind it. What they do not see are the years of open mics, failed jokes, late nights and long drives it took to make those minutes look effortless.

 

More importantly, that comic was part of the reason people bought tickets and sat in those seats. There would not be a comedy show without comedians.

 

So maybe the real question is not whether someone is paying comics too much.

 

Maybe it is whether we have gotten too comfortable assuming comics should expect too little.