A Stand-Up Guy

Comedian shows why he is able to make the leap from stage to TV and back.
By Ken Parish Perkins

Staff Writer of The Dallas Morning News

Despite the growing volume of comedic expression in clubs and on television, it remains to be seen whether the '90s will go down as the decade that comedy continued to break new ground, run in place or slide backward.

What's certain is that the line separating sitcom comic from stage comic will become tougher to distinguish. That line might even fade so much that you need to be a sitcom star to get booked at the neighborhood comedy club.

Problem is, there are too many sitcom stars dabbling in stand·up who make for boring, even annoying, attractions.

But on the flip side is Bill Kirchenbauer. Middle-aged, balding and, slightly porky, he could pass as the prodigal brother of Willard Scott.

Here's a guy that most folks don't know by name, but they smile when they see him on reruns of a host of TV shows, Growing Pains and Just The Ten Of Us being the most popular and most recent.

Television watchers aren't aware that Mr. Kirchenbauer, who opened a six-day, eight-show stint at the Dallas Improvisation on Tuesday night, had been toiling in comedy clubs for 14 years before landing steady and more lucrative TV work.

Watching him Tuesday makes you wonder why he stayed away from the clubs for so long.

Dressed in a floral print shirt, black vest, black jeans, white sneakers and dipping in and out of a leather bag full of props, Mr. Kirchenbauer barreled through an hour of jokes, a lot of it improvised as he waded through the audience. He picked on a computer programmer and ambushed a woman who ducked into the restroom.

Then he hit other topics:

On Sea World. ("Take a minute to nolice that they sell fish sandwiches. Now who thought of this? For the.fish, is that stress or what?")
On smoking. ("If it was so good for you, why you blow it out?")
On getting a sewage bill. (What's stupid is that every month the sewer bill is different. Now, what kind of meter do they have for this? Some guy under your house, going, oooooh, huh. iThat was a big one.")

One of the show's pleasures, aside from Mr. Kirchenbauer's physical humor (He did impressions on everything from a bagpipe to an Eskimo using the bathroom to the Titanic, although you had to be there for the last two), was its cleanliness.

Like most successful stand-ups, he has a sharp eye for the lunacy of everyday life. His PG-rated material is witty, accessible and firmly anchored in middle America.

This is the kind of thing comedy fans don't see on the tube. That's Bill Kirchenbauer censored, in a way.

"I never really feel that I left the stand-up life," Mr. Kirchenbauer said before his show. "When it's a part of you, it sort of stayed there. It's different from working on a show with writers."

But Mr. Kirchenbauer loves both stand-up and TV. If it weren't for his talent on stage, television wouldn't have found him. And if he hadn't been on television, The Improv wouldn't have booked him.

In this case, there's nothing wrong with having the best of both worlds.

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