even harder to come by for a
female. Few women were in
comedy when Kay started
out. She says many club
owners don't like female
comics and don't feel women
are strong enough to close the
shows.
Especially at the beginning,
Kay was careful not to
distract the audience with
what she wore. No low-cut
tops or mini-skirts. "I'm not
up there to try and attract a
man," she says. "I'm there to
entertain an audience. For
me, what I say was the most
important thing."
Much of what Kay says in
her routines involves
skirmishes between the sexes,
marital and post-marital
mayhem. She describes one of
her two ex-husbands as a man
"who lives on a mountain in
Arizona with a woman
named Hope. Anyone named
Hope — I mean — the 60s are
over! Kick off your earth
shoes!"
"Even though I do knock
the men a lot," Kay notes, "I
have just as many men as
women come up to me after
the show and say they love it.
Nobody's offended."
George Kutlenios, owner of
the Holly Hotel and a Kay-
watcher since 1983, agrees
that Kay has broad appeal.
"She's developed into a world-
> class act," he says. "She's
great. I've seen her knock 'em
dead all over."
"Killer" Kay has con-
sidered the effects of her
power. "I think female comics
are kind of intimidating to
people because we're very
opinionated and loud," she
says. "People can't picture us
at home cooking a meal and
putting the kids to bed. But,
in truth, that's exactly what
a lot of us do."
Bedtimes chez Kay were
accompanied by lullabies that
sounded more like the Bronx
than Brahms. She used to put
her daughter, Shannon, to
sleep listening to Jackie
Mason. Shannon, now 19, is
an aspiring sound engineer.
"But we don't want people
to know how old I am," Kay
quips. "So you can just say
she was my 6th-grade project.
o
I got extra credit, and I
always had something for
show and tell."
An independent woman
and longtime single parent,
Kay is not one to go out and
party after her club work. She
describes her offstage self as
a homebody, an avid antique
collector and a health-minded
vegetarian. She's a mother
who enjoys the company of
her daughter — and a
daughter grateful to her own
parents for all the support
they've given.
Kay's chosen profession
raises vulnerability to an art
form. Rejection and hecklers
are continuing occupational
hazards. But, for Kay, the
laughs outweigh the lows.
"Everytime you get a
laugh," she says, "it's
immediate gratification. You
can't feel any better than
when a whole roomful of
people are saying, 'You're
funny. We love you.' That's
just the best feeling in the
world."
Norma Zager
W
hen Norma Zager
was growing up, her
father used to say to
her, "What are you — some
kind of comedian?"
The expression proved
prophetic. As an adult
professional Zager has made
her mirthful mark working
as a stand-up comic. In clubs,
on television shows and
commercials, she's wielded
her wit in the persona of the
wisecracking Jewish mother.
More warm and
real than slick or
sleek, Zager tells
why she's the new
"It Girl."
"Honey, I've got
so much of it —
I'm bloated from
it!"
As
amused
family, friends
and audiences can
testify, Zager
always had it. On
long ago nights at
legendary Camp
Farband, Zager
told her giggly
bunkmates that
she wore her glasses to sleep
"because I want to see my
dreams." At Vernor Ele-
mentary and in Mumford
High's class of 1964, she
carried on as a well-behaved
class clown.
Having graduated from
Wayne State with a degree in
"Comedians are
people who have
this far-out way of
looking at life. it's
not something you
develop."
Norma Zager
journalism, Zager's original
intention was to be a writer.
But it wasn't until about five
years ago that her real
comedic kickoff took place.
She'd read that Joan Rivers
was looking for material. "I
thought, for a kibbutz, I'd
send her a few jokes," Zager
says. "Lo and behold, she
bought them. I guess that's
what gave me the courage to
even consider going up on a
stage?'
Since that time, there have
been many stages in Zager's
life. Last year, she played
Bally's, a well-known Las
Vegas casino, four times.
When in town, she's a regular
at the Comedy Castle and
sometimes headlines at the
Looney Bin in Walled Lake.
Some of her sweetest
comedy coups, Zager says,
have come about seren-
dipitously, without any self-
promotion on her part. While
working at Bally's, she
received an unexpected call to
appear on the "Showtime
Comedy Club Network." A
friend asked her to play his
mother on an Home Box
Office piece. And, in a
nationwide search for women
in comedy, Zager was one of
four females selected to
appear on ABC's "Home
Show."
"It's been one of those kinds
of fate things that just
evolve," Zager says. "I'm a
real fatalist. The older you
get, the more you believe in
fate. That's why I was more
relaxed than most young
comedians. They're more
obsessed, where I felt,
`Wherever it takes me, that's
where I go.' "
Wherever she goes, .Zager
brings along her playful
perspective — an innate,
intuitive laugh-detector that
senses the humor in any
situation.
"Comedians," she says, "are
people who have this far-out
way of looking at life. It's not
something you develop. It's
just there."
More than comedic flair is
required to survive the slings
and arrows of stand-up. Zager
says she has friends who are
funny, and a husband,
Michael, who's even funnier
than she is.
"He'll do 20 minutes in the
line at K-Mart for the cashier.
But he can't get on a stage. It
takes a certain kind of idiot to
stand up there. I mean,
you've got to have
an elephant hide
to take that kind
of rejection. I
always thought I
was an insecure
person. But I
found out I must
have an ego the
size of New York
City."
It might just
take a big apple a
day to keep the
detractors away —
for a female who
ventures into
comedyland. It's a
man's business,
Zager says, and the nearer to
the top one gets, the more
apparent that becomes.
Beyond dealing with
management, the female
comic finds her gender an
issue in the selection of
material. Men don't like
women to talk guy-talk,
Zager says.
"They don't mind if women
speak about their bust size or
going to aerobics or having
fingernails put on. But they
don't want women to discuss
economics or politics or
anything of great importance
— because that's their
territory. They feel
threatened if you step over
the line."
Zager cites Ibtie Fields,
among other famous funny
women, as an example of a by-
the-rules player — self-
deprecating and a Jewish
mother figure audiences
deemed non-threatening and
lovable. Zager hopes to some
day do a film or play about
her.
Mark Ridley, owner of the
Comedy Castle, has been one
of many to note the
similarities between Zager
and her favorite predecessor.
"Zager's stand-up is classic
Ibtie Fields,"he says. "It's
safe. It's good. It's something
that anybody could see and
not be offended. Norma is
probably one of the hottest,
new, underrated comedians in
this area."
Zager's own routines
include some current events
material. And she aims a few
affectionate darts at the
menfolk, but all in the spirit
of fun:
"You guys are characters —
and boy oh boy — am I going
to let you have it!"
The main course of Zager's
funny feast is a hearty
serving of human condition
commentary, inspired by the
stuff of everyday life:
"You know how people buy
these stress tapes to calm
down? My husband's using
his stress tape now. And I
want to tell you, it's really
working. He puts it on, he
falls asleep and . . . ALL MY
STRESS IS GONE."
Zager does a fair amount of
THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS
23
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