The two young nightclub comics were feeling desperate. They had been on for ten minutes and it was still so quiet you could hear a gin fizz. The manager was waiting grimly at stageside to fire them. Suddenly they strode to a ringside table, snatched up some dishware and smashed it on the floor. The audience gasped, then shouted with laughter.
Heartened, the boys grabbed trays from waiters, flung steaks, bullied the customers into sitting on the floor, singing campfire songs and joining a conga line.
After that roughhouse evening at Atlantic City's 500 Club,...
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