To Marty

I was going to write today about the show I did today for ComedyCures, an amazing charity dedicated to bringing patients and their caregivers the gift of joy and laughter, run by Saranne Rothberg, one of the most inspiring people I think I've ever met.  I've been working so hard to be a professional comedian because I think that I can bring others happiness through my work - participating in the LaughLunch at the Broadway Comedy Club, I was able to do that in a more direct way than I think I ever have.  I'm extremely lucky to have been given such an opportunity and I cherish it - I hope I was able to bring them as much joy, laughter, and happiness as they brought me inspiration and motivation to be a better person.

But for all the happiness I experienced this afternoon performing for some truly incredible and courageous people, I'm currently experiencing great sadness because I just found out that I lost somebody  just as incredible and courageous, Marty Fischer.

I met Marty this summer.  Right after graduation, I started calling around local clubs to see if I could get stage time anywhere post-graduation.  I found out that a new club was opening - the National Lampoon Comedy House - and left a message that I was interested in performing.  Marty called me back and I came down to the Dave and Buster's, where I would be nearly every weekend for the next two months, working with Marty on my act.  Here was a real comedy veteran, who had been in the business for decades and decades, and he was working with me, a fresh comic just starting out.  I think that reflects powerfully on Marty's generosity, kindness, and love of comedy.

People definitely had differing opinions about Marty; not everyone loved him.  But the Marty that I knew was an old-school, kind-hearted man who legitimately cared and looked after the people with which he worked.

Marty was in his 60s when he passed, in the middle of trying to start an entire comedy club chain.  That was the kind of guy Marty was - he had such a love of and for comedy that - even after cheating death a short while ago - he continued to work towards the goal of bringing more comedy into the world until the day he died.

In fact, it was Marty who got me the gig at ComedyCures, a charity with which he was deeply involved and held close to his heart.

About a week ago, Marty and I had a disagreement about ComedyCures.  I was worried that if I did magic, I would be further pigeon-holed as a magician, making it that much harder to be recognized as a comedian by the comedy industry (which is often present at ComedyCures events).  Marty told me, "You're going to do it.... Just do it and we'll talk after.  You'll understand."

Marty was right - after doing the event, I realized that it was an honor to be a part of such an amazing charity period, regardless of my role.  I was being selfish - I would turn down a chance to bring joy to people who needed it the most because of some petty personal career nonsense?  Being there put everything in perspective - my personal issues were ridiculously silly and trivial, especially compared to the immensity of the goal we were trying to accomplish.

I called Marty as soon as I left ComedyCures and left him a voicemail thanking him for giving me the opportunity to work with ComedyCures.  I also told him that he was right, that now that I had experienced it, I understood the importance of my being there, regardless of my role.  I also understood Marty better, knowing what kind of charity he had been such a strong supporter of, knowing how highly regarded he was by ComedyCures people I now highly regard.

I'll probably never know if Marty got that voicemail.  I am, however, SOOO thankful that I was able to have this moment of understanding and appreciation about Marty while he was still alive.

Marty was more than just a comedy colleague - he was a mentor and friend.  Every time I look at my ComedyCures bracelet - which I won't be taking off - I'll be reminded of my obligation to the world to bring it laughter and make it a better place, an obligation Marty took to heart and worked to fulfill every day of his life.

I'll miss you, Marty.