Monday, Nov. 9, 1998 | 9:12 a.m.
"There comes a moment when you have to make a decision to live or die," comedian CD LaBove says.
He's not kidding.
After more than 20 years in acting and comedy, paying his dues in the burgeoning Los Angeles comedy clubs of the '80s with friend and comedic partner, the late Sam Kinison, LaBove's of-the-moment mantra has carried him through some tough times.
LaBove -- a frequent Strip performer who appears today through Sunday at the Catch a Rising Star comedy club at the MGM Grand -- says his "moment" came in the early '80s.
He had just moved back to Vandenburg, Calif., his hometown, having decided to retire (prematurely) after two years in the fast-paced and brutal nightlife of comedy clubs, where he'd performed with pal Kinison. They met in 1979 in Houston, Texas.
LaBove was disillusioned with life; he had failed at his chosen path and his self-esteem was shot. One night, three months later, he attacked a curved mountain road with his station wagon to see who would win.
"It was 'drive as fast as you can and see what happens,' " LaBove says. "I was not happy with my life."
At the end of the road -- literally, after all those curves -- the car spun out of control and flipped through the air. Everything, he says, seemed to slow. Seconds became minutes.
"I put my knees on the steering wheel and with each roll I had a conversation with myself. 'I don't want to die now. You should be a standup comedian, you should be an actor, but you are scared.' "
Once Fearless
LaBove, always the class clown, found his calling in high school. Noticed by the drama coach, he began performing in plays -- as an outlet for the competitive athlete with comedic tendencies. He had hopes for a future in comedic acting.
He left Vandenburg for L.A. to become a star. There he landed roles as an extra in seven movies before his comedy was noticed. LaBove was featured in the movie "Hi-Riders" with Mel Ferrer.
"All these old actors in it were on the last legs of their careers," LaBove says. "I was the comic relief."
At 19, he became a star -- at least in Vandenburg. The local theater was packed when the movie came to the small Air Force town. Then LaBove, whose family later moved to Texas, put his budding career aside for a summer to help his siblings through the divorce of their parents.
His father, retired from the Air Force, was the one to inspire him to get back to his life and give standup comedy a try by performing at a new comedy club that opened in Houston.
"I got hooked," he says. "Once you get a response, you say 'Hey, maybe I got something here.' "
LaBove's comedic style incorporates acting with fast-paced standup comedy. "Every night is a new night; (with) every audience a new beast sprouts," he says.
His first night at the Houston club, Kinison, who was also working there, asked LaBove to watch his act. Kinison had quit ministering two weeks before to answer a different calling -- standup comedy. The two began to critique each other's work and a friendship grew.
"As comics we made each other laugh," he says. "We talked philosophy, talked dreams, talked comedy. We forced each other, with our competitive spirit, to get up and do better than you did last night."
The two decided to go to L.A. and make it in the big comedy clubs, to improve on what they had and to become famous. They arrived there in 1979 and for two months slept in LaBove's station wagon while working the clubs.
"Sam had the back seat, I had the front," he says. "I used to live in Beverly Hills ... but they made me move my car."
A year later, they both landed jobs as doormen at the world famous Comedy Store in Hollywood.
"We would have to wait until somebody cancels (a gig) and there is no other comedian in the building," before newcomers could take the stage, LaBove recalls. LaBove followed such high energy and raucous acts as Robin Williams and Richard Pryor. The audience could be brutal to lesser-known comics.
"You didn't want to follow them, you knew you'd (bomb)," he says. "It totally destroyed my confidence."
It wasn't long before the funnymen had had enough. Kinison returned to Tulsa, Okla., to preach. LaBove returned to Vandenburg to lick his wounds.
"I drank beer (and) ate for three months," he says. "I was despondent and crushed by my experience in standup (comedy)."
The Decision
The car came to a rest.
"I didn't have a scratch or bruise and a relief came over me. I knew what I wanted to do!" he says. "And I couldn't get out of the car."
Fluid began dripping on him.
He thought, "I made it through this horrible accident without a scratch and now I'm gonna burn. I was out there with the stars, bug noises and a wrecked car that was about to explode."
He kicked out a window and ran fast and hard, as far from the car as possible. It didn't explode. (The fluid was actually rain water from the previous day's downpour.)
He sold the car for scrap and put his thumb out for a ride back to L.A. -- back to the comedy circuit that had beat him down. Back to friends and his former lifestyle, scraping by to just get a laugh.
He listened to the moment that told him to go back and fight for the dream.
On his first day back in L.A., LaBove was walking through an apartment complex on his way to see an old friend about a place to crash, when he heard a familiar voice calling him.
"It was Sam in his bathing suit, he had just moved back yesterday, he had just gotten married," LaBove says. Ironically, the old friends from Houston had stumbled upon each other again.
Shortly after, they embarked on a journey that would take them through some heady times, and end before it should have.
The Beginning, again
"The bond of our friendship was our passion for (comedy)," LaBove says of his relationship with Kinison. They quickly got jobs together, again at the Comedy Store, this time on stage.
"At that time (our style) was aggression -- no holds barred and no prisoners," he says. "It was more like performance art for me. I like to call myself a 'momenteer.' I cover the minute things and create a visual with my words. You can shift a moment and create material that comes from the moment."
In 1984, Kinison had a breakthrough in his delivery and LaBove was there to witness it. One night, the club's opening comic didn't show up, and Kinison was asked to fill in, as he had many times before.
"It was funny because I knew how angry he was" from earlier in the day when Kinison had a "knock-down, drag-out (fight) with his wife," LaBove remembers.
"He started (the routine) with some old, stupid joke and stopped, and said to this guy (in the audience), 'You ever get married, kid?' and the kid said, 'No'. He said 'Well, if you ever get married you'll look like this: Arrrhhh!' " Kinison's trademark scream was born.
That night, things changed.
"I knew it. He knew it. He had just found another step in his standup," LaBove remembers. "You know, you found something that makes you different. For him it was telling the truth."
LaBove, however, was again becoming disillusioned with the routine of routine comedy. "I slowly quit doing standup and turned into a doorman (full-time)," he says. "I was tired of starving. I was even thinking of getting a (real) job."
Kinison's career was about to change everything, for him and LaBove. In 1985, Rodney Dangerfield asked Kinison to appear on his HBO special. The beginning had begun.
Kinison asked LaBove to join him in this new venture.
"Sam comes to me one night and says, 'Lets refocus and write,' " LaBove says. "At this point, I didn't think about me. Sam and I went to New York in '85 and shot the show, shared the moment."
The show aired six months later. "The day after it aired, Sam was recognized on the street," LaBove says, a hint of pride still in his voice.
Kinison was asked to hit the road with his own show -- alone. He wouldn't leave LaBove behind with all they had been through together.
"He said, '(CD) and I have suffered for six years now ... now we are going to do it our way, we are going to live this out together,' " LaBove says.
That year, they performed at 200-seat clubs. By 1992, they were playing to crowds that numbered more than 30,000.
Kinison went on to star in television shows and toured with his "Outlaws of Comedy," performing comedy routines, while their hit songs got national radio play. He also appeared in several movies and a scandolous music video with Jessica Hahn.
"We lived it up, like the Beatles," he says. "We were all tight friends and it was a rare time."
The "Outlaws of Comedy" also played Las Vegas regularly. The group would performed on New Year's Eve in L.A. early in the evening, and then fly to Las Vegas to perform again at 2 a.m.
"Our number one goal was to do what no one else has done," he says. "We sell out the L.A. show, go to Vegas and sell out Vegas."
The two were writing a "Jackie Gleason type show," and were preparing to make a movie. Kinison, who had divorced his first wife years before, had plans to re-marry.
"We lived in the moment, knowing it is not going to last forever," he says.
One man's moment
On April 10, 1992, the fast lane came to a screeching halt.
"Sam married Maleka on a Monday in Vegas, they flew to Hawaii, came back Friday morning," LaBove remembers. "We met them at a McDonald's in Barstow (Calif.); they were in great moods."
The group -- in two cars -- was on its way to Laughlin to perform for the first time there. Kinison had just gotten his Firebird back from the repair shop (a bus had taken off the driver's side door the week before).
"He had just gotten it out of the shop and wanted to drive it to Laughlin to see what it could do," LaBove says.
LaBove was in a van following Kinison, who would speed up until out of sight, eventually letting the slower van catch up. LaBove decided to nap in the back of the van he was riding in. He had just fallen asleep when ...
"I hear, 'Watch that car Sam, watch that car,' and I'm hearing metal with no breaking sounds, just complete crash. I didn't know if I was dreaming or not."
The same slow motion sensation he experienced during his own car wreck more than a decade earlier re-occurred.
"I knew the moment I saw smoke rising from the Firebird," LaBove recalls. "I walked up to the car and saw Sam laid across the console. I saw his wife curled up in the fetal position on the passenger's side. There was a little blood (coming) out of his nose and mouth. He was saying, 'I don't want to die. Why now? Why now?'
"He was carrying on the same conversation that I had had," LaBove says. At that moment, "I felt very controlled, very calm."
Kinison had pushed himself into the driver's seat and was trying to get out of the car. "Sam laid across my arms, I held him tight so he could not move," LaBove says. He looked up and realized that Kinison's "midsection had taken out the steering wheel."
Kinison was dying.
"He looked up to my right and saw someone clear as day. He said, 'But I don't want to die. Why now?' " La Bove says. "He got this childlike look on his face and said, 'Oooooh, I see. OK, OK, OK.' On that third 'OK,' I felt him go. All of a sudden, time came back to normal."
On his own with company
It took a while, however, for the moments in LaBove's life to return to real time.
"Obviously (Kinison's death) was a big turn in my life," LaBove says, explaining that his father had passed away just prior to Kinison's accident. "The two men that I trusted most and allowed to be my mentors were gone."
LaBove thought of all the moments and relationships that had led him to where he was, especially the influence his father and Kinison had on his life. "I realized everything I liked about them was in me," he says.
LaBove returned to performing in small clubs in 1992 and says he became a stronger performer. "I was now alone ... artistically," he says. "I felt like I had made it to the big leagues and now I was alone and throwing different pitches."
In 1993, LaBove was called to do "The Tonight Show." Since then he has built a steady resume of appearances on television and comedy clubs. This year, he's played the local Catch A Rising Star monthly and is scheduled for a New Year's Eve performance there.
"He is our most popular headliner," Kevin Kearney, booking agent for Catch A Rising Star, says.
"So far, my life has been like a Vietnam experience," LaBove says. "I started to fight in a battle, I didn't know where it was going, and I've lost a lot of friends," he says. "I'm looking forward to where this fight takes me."
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