The sketch comedy scene in Seattle has historically been amorphous and cyclical. When I first got in the game over a decade ago, my comedy group was the only one that I knew of. When I first did SketchFest Seattle (I believe it was 1957), my group was one of only two local acts; the rest had to be flown or boated in from all corners of the globe, but mostly LA and Portland. These days there are enough quality local sketch acts to fill an entire month—the month of May, to be exact—at the Pocket Theater. This golden age seems to be here to stay, largely because of the work of Clayton Weller, a man whose passion for comedy eclipses my passion for, well, anything.
I first met Weller when he was a member of the beloved and prolific sketch group Ubiquitous They. A funny guy who happened to have the smarts and patience required to work on the administrative end, he eventually became a producer at SketchFest, but that wasn’t enough for him. A few years ago he created Sketch Comedy Month and that led to… Here, I’ll just let him tell the story:
How did Sketch Comedy Month lead to you start the Pocket Theater?
The original model for Sketch Month was me taking the financial risk and renting out a venue with my own money. I just wanted to see more comedy and give my friends the opportunity to show off. I filled it almost instantly, and all of the shows did better together than they would have separately. It also proved that people are hungry for hour-long live theatre/comedy. It was just a hop-skip-jump to see if it could become sustainable as a business.
How did you find yourself in the position to dedicate yourself to this calling full time?
Spreadsheets. I literally woke up in the middle of the night and went, “I think I can run a theatre and actually make money! No time for pants! I GOTTA MAKE A SPREADSHEET!” Turns out, I had the set of skills that put me in a great place to manage a theatre. I had already started another business (Freak’n Genius) and I had been producing a comedy festival (SketchFest) for many years, as well as doing small-scale production for my own projects (Ubiquitous They Comedy, WhizARTbang). I found that the fiddly admin stuff I had learned about booking venues, managing performers and accounting (all the boring stuff) was something that other performers hated. Once I said I would do that for them they pretty much begged me to open The Pocket. I ran a Kickstarter to test interest outside of my immediate friend circle and it blew up. I knew I was on to something.
You started out in the comedy biz as a performer, and now you’re basically the boss. Have you found any surprise benefits or detriments to running the show and being a part of the show at the same time?
I’ve been producing since college. There was like one year where I wasn’t on the admin side of stuff, but most of my career I’ve been behind the scenes. Even though the scale has definitely tipped toward more management, I have to keep doing creative stuff or I go crazy.
Benefits:
- I get to teach sketch comedy! Which three years ago was not even on my radar.
- The hot-dog place across the street gives me unlimited free food because they like having us as neighbors.
- I see my friends WAAAAAAY more than I used to.
Detriments:
- I don’t get to see as many shows at other venues now. I’m always at The Pocket. It’s slowly getting to where it can run itself.
- It’s tough doing my own shows now, because I always do work for our co-producers first. Also I have to get someone to cover for me if I’m performing. Which is a pain.
- When people put trash in the recycle bin. I have to deal with that.
Do you ever find yourself having to be the “bad” guy?
Actually I have to do this way less than I expected! Mostly I try and show artists respect and they return the favor by working hard and caring about me and The Pocket. There have been a couple of times where performers have not done the show they said they would, or for whatever reason have a very low turn out. These are the tough ones, because we’re not just doing rentals at The Pocket; we do co-productions. This means that I have to have a sit down with the producers and talk about where the disconnect was. But I do pretty intense on-boarding for every show so artists know what’s expected of them.
What are you particularly excited about with this year’s Sketch Month?
I definitely love all of the veteran groups coming through: Drop the Rootbeer & Run, Now With Dames, Princess, Day Job, Troy Mink. When they do shows, you can be pretty sure you’ll leave smiling and quoting them for a week. Sketch month came out of a need for a place for new groups to stretch and this year we’ve seen an explosion of new people coming to the plate: Tomato Tomato, Part Plant, Super Famous, Getting Naked with Friends—and that’s just scratching the surface. And I’ve made an effort to pair these two different pools of performers in all of our paired sets.
A big draw of the month is all the community shows. Iron Sketch, which is Iron Chef, but with sketch comedy, or the centerpiece of the month, the SketchFest FundFight, which is insane. We pit eight different sketch groups against each other in head to head, single elimination sketch combat and the audience votes with money. It’s definitely one of the most exciting shows I’ve ever been a part of. The last two times we did it people were throwing money at the stage and screaming “I’m Spider-Man.” You don’t have to be flush to enjoy it either; you get votes just by attending.
What plans do you have for the future of the Pocket? Expansion? World domination?
Right now I’m being super pragmatic, taking it one day at a time and hoping I get incrementally better every time I put up a show. But I wouldn’t be the crazy overworked person that I am without having crazy dreams. Expansion (domination) is definitely my secret wish, and I feel like The Pocket has potential for it. Here’s why: unlike many theatre organizations, The Pocket is not defined by the art that fills it—it’s a system that makes it easier for art to happen. We’re the glass not the water, and my hope is that I can teach other people how to make glasses. (Dropping the metaphor before it shatters here.)
If I learn how to make a theatre a sustainable/successful business then I can teach other people what I did and let them make their own. My hope is that I can make empowering artists a franchise-able thing. All I have to do is prove that running a theater can make money with consistency and boom! I can make knowledge available to everyone.
But for now I’m just going to keep paying rent and helping my quirky little community flourish. All of this has come out of making silly five-minute plays for my friends. There isn’t a day I’m not immeasurably grateful for the opportunity I’ve been afforded.