A stand-up guy

George Wallace (the comedian, not the politician) has written for TV and had a series of his own, but, like his friend Jerry Seinfeld, is happiest with a microphone, an audience, and his jokes.

By TOM ZUCCO, Times Staff Writer

© St. Petersburg Times, published July 14, 2000

He's a comedian who doesn't use profanity in his act.

And he's a black man named George Wallace.

And he thinks John Rocker shouldn't have said all those horrible things, but he likes his attitude.

Maybe the heat has finally gotten to one of the nation's most popular stand-up comics. "It's been crazy," Wallace said last week from his home in Atlanta. "My sprinkler broke and now I'm taking a cup of water out at time.

"It's so hot I saw a black man fanning himself with a Confederate flag."

Go ahead. Just try to get a handle on who this man is.

Beyond his name, his material and his opinion of a certain Atlanta Braves reliever, George Wallace is known mostly for two things: observational humor, and that distinctly urban form of trading insults, yo mama jokes. To wit:

• "Yo mama is so stupid, when they told her they were burning churches, she said, "That's all right, I eat at Popeye's.' "
• "Yo mama's cooking is so bad, the flies got together and fixed the hole in the screen."
• "Somebody dies in a crash and the newscaster says the man died an untimely death. When is it a good time to die?"
• "Yeah, the president and his policies have brought me and my family closer together. They've moved in with me."

Wallace parlayed that shtick into his own sitcom (Tall Hopes), appearances in several movies (Batman Forever, Postcards from the Edge) and quality time in the seats next to Oprah, Leno and Letterman. In 1995, he won an American Comedy Award as best male stand-up, and when Jerry Seinfeld got married last December, his best man was George Wallace. (Wallace described his toast to the newlyweds as "dark and burnt.")

"It's just simple things," Wallace said of his style. "I say things you were thinking, but didn't say. Or maybe wished you'd said. Like why they have 18 handicap parking spaces at Home Depot.

"I can make people laugh just by playing around with the language or dealing with topical issues," he added. "There's no need for a lot of swearing."

But to understand who Wallace is, it helps to understand how he got here.

His is a rags to riches story. Literally.

His father was a butcher, his mother was a housewife, and he grew up on the outskirts of Atlanta with six brothers and sisters. If you were born in 1952 and your parents were at all aware of current events, they knew who George Wallace was.

"Oh, yeah, they knew," Wallace said. "But there are nine George Wallaces in my family. No way we were going to stop using the name."

The Wallace family did a lot together, including gathering regularly around the TV to watch Red Skelton, Richard Pryor and Moms Mabley. The seed was planted.

"I used to do jokes in school," Wallace said. "I wasn't the class clown because that got you into trouble."

Really, George? You never got caught?

"Well, okay. I remember in about 10th grade I passed around a note that said, "If you have holes in your drawers, smile.' The teacher saw it and said, "Bring that note up here.' The class broke up. The teacher said, "George Wallace!' She knew I did it."

He went to college at the University of Akron, earned a degree in marketing, and moved to New York to look for a job. After a few weeks of little success, he saw a sign in a window offering up to $300 a day.

The job was selling rags for the Cleveland Cotton Products Co., a firm based in . . . Akron.

Wallace moved back to Ohio and stayed with the company about eight months.

"You'd be surprised." he said, "Every business needs a rag."

And young men need their space. Wallace wanted to take some time off to travel in Europe, but his boss wasn't thrilled with the idea. "So I said well, we'll talk about it when I get back."

Thus ended his career at the Cleveland Cotton Products Co.

When he returned to New York, Wallace got into transit advertising -- creating and selling the ads you see on buses and subways. In 1976, he called on the owners of the Comic Strip comedy club.

"I made the sale," he said, "and told them I do a little comedy also. That was on a Wednesday. They said come in tomorrow night. I've been on stage every night since then.

"How about that, sports fans?"

In the mid-1970s, one of the few places blacks could find steady work on the comedy club circuit was Los Angeles. Wallace headed west, kept his day job with an advertising company, and honed his act in clubs at night. His break came when he was hired as a writer for the Redd Foxx Show, a variety show that followed the hugely successful Sanford and Son and lasted only a year.

But his size 12's were in the door.

Foxx was known for his X-rated routines, and at first, Wallace went there, too. "But I realized I didn't have to use vulgarity," he said. "Besides, kids and grandmas could be listening, and that's not the way I grew up."

It pays to be clean. There are potential network sitcom deals. Or brief but lucrative performances in front of corporate audiences at conventions.

"You can make up to $100,000 for less than an hour," Wallace said. "But you've got to stick to clean comedy. That's okay with me."

He could pass for Sinbad's older brother.

When Tall Hopes was canceled in 1993 after one season, Wallace decided to spend his time touring instead of chasing another network deal.

"My thing has always been to try to be different from everyone else," he said. "I like the career of Redd Foxx, but I don't want to bust my hump and then retire old and tired.

"I'm having fun. When I turn 65, then work the hell out of me. Gimme my Social Security money now."

But with a friend like Jerry Seinfeld, who needs Social Security?

"We became friends years ago when I drove him to a drugstore to get some Nyquil," Wallace explained. "He was really sick, and after that, we became friends.

"And yes, everything he has, I have. This is my best friend in the whole world, believe it or not.

"Not many people know this, but when we were first starting out, we made a deal. The first one of us to make a million dollars would give the other half.

"That son of a b--, I still haven't seen any of it.

"But seriously, that's the kind of friends we are. You see, in the comedy business, you travel so much and don't get to make a lot of close friends other than other comics. You don't get to meet a lot of good people. This guy is the best."

Seinfeld and his wife are expecting a baby, and most of his other friends are settled down. But not Wallace.

"I'm married to my career on that stage," he said. "Everybody is lacking something in life. I'm lacking a wife. But I've traveled around the world, I helped raise my sister's kids, and I've got too many married friends complaining."

That leaves only one more area to explain: Rocker -- the mouth that gored. The pitcher insulted nearly every ethnic and racial group and threatened a reporter. But he's also a fierce competitor, and that's what Wallace likes.

"Sometimes you can't say what you're thinking," Wallace said. "What he said was wrong, but if everyone on the Braves had a John Rocker attitude, they'd beat the Yankees. All the Braves need John Rocker's attitude."

Remember, this is coming from a man whose lifelong dream has been to pitch for the Braves, and who is often photographed wearing a Braves jacket and cap.

But pitching for Atlanta today could be a challenge. Not only has Wallace's fastball . . . er, diminished, but the Braves have some of the best pitchers in baseball.

"I know," Wallace said with a sigh, "but years ago, if you called the Braves and asked what time their next game is, they'd say, "when can you get here?'

"See? Things change. There's still hope for me."

At a glance: George Wallace, 8 p.m. Saturday, Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center in Tampa. Tickets are $19.75-$28.75. Call (813) 229-7827.