There's an old Vulture article making the rounds again about how much comedians in Los Angeles get paid to do comedy. (SPOILER: It's not much.) But the problem is not that this article is old. The problem is that it's largely still relevant. Because Los Angeles as a comedy scene is one of the only places in America where comedians struggle to get paid for doing spots.
Now, let me preface this rant I'm about to go on with one statement: I know that more comedy shows pay post-Covid than ever did before in Los Angeles. That's good news. I think so many comics stood up for themselves post-Covid and said "hey we might be risking our lives here, the very least you could do is give us gas money" and they do. But there are still enough problem areas that I have either heard about or experienced personally, and I feel compelled to share my thoughts on the matter.
The show that made me question everything was in 2018. It was in the back of a restaurant in Sherman Oaks, a room that probably fit 30 audience members. The tickets were $15 and the show was sold out. All of the comics were talented, and none of us had a bad set. But we were not compensated. No pay. No food or drink tickets. We didn’t even get a discount on the food or drinks we did order.
After I left that show and started doing math in my head on the 101, I grew angrier by the mile. We had all been fleeced. Even if the comic producing the show had owed the venue money to use the room, he got to walk out with the rest pocketed. That didn’t sit right with me. Still doesn’t.
Los Angeles is not like other comedy scenes. Its proximity to the capital-I Industry means that there are more people using standup as a means to an end, more people who have bought into the capital-D Dream of “making it,” and, unfortunately, more people who take advantage of both the previous groups.
I am not some doomsayer who thinks we're witnessing the slow-mo collapse of the entertainment industry, JFL bankruptcy be damned. But I can see that it’s changing irreversibly, and I think that comics of all levels need to adapt. And for a lot of people in the Los Angeles scene, that means stop digging yourself deeper into a financial hole in pursuit of the Dream.
Consider this: if you do booked shows outside of Los Angeles, the majority of them pay. And I’m not just talking about traditional club shows, or one-nighters. I have done showcases all over America, and aside from a small handful of times, was paid spot pay for my set. Asheville, Atlanta, Austin, Chicago, Dallas, Detroit, Greensboro, Houston, Kansas City, Phoenix, San Diego, Tucson, Tulsa, just to name a few. The first time I ever got paid for a spot in New York City, the venue manager had to chase me down the hallway because I almost walked out without my cash in hand. I had been conditioned by LA to think a comic at “my level” didn’t deserve spot pay, that pay was only for those with a laundry list of TV credits.
What the spot pay told me was: you’re onto something. You have earned this. Keep trying, and you will earn this again.
So here it is: If every other comedy scene across America can pay the comics it books to do their shows, then Los Angeles can too.
If you are charging tickets for a show, pay the comedians. If you're not charging for tickets for a show, find a way to compensate the comedians. Do a tip jar. Ask if the venue has an entertainment budget and if they'd be willing to pay you for your time setting up the night. Get a sponsor. Give the performers food or drinks. These are not things that are out of the question.
An argument I hear a lot about spot pay: “there are plenty of comics who would work for free!” Okay, sure. In Los Angeles, that’s especially true, since there are more people here seeking exposure and fame than there are in other scenes. But put your producer hat on for a second and answer this: do you want lineups flooded with comics who will work for free without batting an eye, or would you rather pay professionals who you like and trust?
The Industry is not a meritocracy. But comedy can be.
To the comics reading this who would work for free: have you ever tried asking about pay? Because I didn’t for a while. I, too, was doing this for The Love Of The Game™. But that first time I got paid out of the blue, something shifted. And I know at least some of you are good enough to get your spot pay.
And, listen, producers: you are allowed to not pay. Whatever. That's fine. Am I going to find you and hunt you down if you don't pay the comics on your show? No. I'm not a vigilante. I'm just someone who's suggesting that maybe this city’s comedy scene needs to remember that there’s value in what we do, and that if you follow the money, you probably deserve a little scratch.
The next time you get booked on a new show, ask if there’s pay. If there’s not, you can handle it however you like. (Me, personally: if I need the stage time, I take the stage time. Sometimes I want to work out but don’t want to hit an open mic where I only get three minutes. But, importantly, I have learned I don’t always need the stage time.)
If there is pay: good for you! You deserve to be paid! Someone else recognizes the value you bring to their show. Remember that. Hold onto that feeling. Use it to keep going.
I will forever dream of a stand-up comedy scene in Los Angeles that doesn’t perpetuate the cycle of financial trudgery that people have to deal with. This is a scene where you might need a day job to survive, but that rarely actually validates your artistic pursuits in a meaningful way. The not-so-secret truth is that money is validating, and that maybe it’s time to take care of our own a little differently than we have before.
The Industry is changing. The way people approach The Dream is changing. That means the way we approach the scene in an industry town full of dreamers should change too.