Dave: I just heard from ABC. You’re a star!
Me: North Hollywood got picked up?
Dave: No, they passed on it.
Me: Then how am I a star?
Dave: Because it’s in you. You have that special something, and whether something goes or it doesn’t go, you’ll still be a star.
His words felt like something a father might say to encourage a depressed kid. I’d already told my mom, Torrei, and my friends to get ready to watch me on TV every week. Though maybe there was still a chance they could watch me on Saturday Night Live.
When the twenty-five thousand dollars came in for the North Hollywood pilot, which was more like twelve thousand after taxes and commissions, the first thing I did was math. I figured out how much I still owed my mom for the rent she’d paid for me when I was first starting out and gave her a check for the exact amount. But she didn’t want to accept it.
Since that time, I’ve seen people work hard to become successful, only to have entitled parents exploit them for as much money as they can get. My mom actually was entitled to that money, and I still had to persuade her to take it. My goal in life is to have a heart as big as hers.
Unfortunately, I don’t. Here’s how I know that: Later, I’d find myself in a situation where the thought would occur to me, I damn sure need that money back.
55
* * *
HOW I BECAME AN INTERNATIONAL SUPERSTAR (IN CANADA, FOR ONE WEEK, AND NOT ACTUALLY ALL OF CANADA, AND NOT REALLY A SUPERSTAR, BUT THEY DID MENTION ME IN THE PAPERS SO THAT’S GOTTA COUNT FOR SOMETHING)
Just as Dave had promised, the year passed quickly and I was given another opportunity to perform in the New Faces showcase at the Just for Laughs comedy festival in Montreal. This time, thanks to Keith Robinson, Damon Dash, and Judd Apatow, I was ready—except for one thing. I had no experience performing outside the United States. For all I knew, people were completely different in Canada than here.
I told Dave that I wanted to go to Montreal early so I could get some stage time in and make sure audiences there could identify with my material. Then Dave asked a question that showed me just how unprepared I was.
Dave: Do you have a passport?
Me: Huh?
Dave: A passport.
Me: What’s that?
Dave: A passport is a document you need to travel to another country. If you don’t have a passport, you can’t go to Canada and you can’t get back into the United States.
Me: How do I get one of those?
Dave gave me the address of a government office where I could get a passport. Standing in line there, I was amazed by what my life had become: A day ago, I didn’t even know this thing called a passport existed. Now I’m getting one so I can go to a foreign country and do comedy internationally!
In the days leading up to the trip, I barely slept. Sometimes I was excited. Other times I was nervous, especially when I heard that some people in Montreal spoke French. How were they going to understand my jokes?
Traveling out of the country for the first time, going through customs, arriving in a strange city where I knew nobody, getting welcomed with a sign that had my name on it, being taken to a luxury hotel, and getting introduced to all these Just for Laughs people who respected me as a performer—it was all so incredible that I couldn’t stop smiling.
I got my feet wet with my first international show and was relieved that everyone seemed to understand the material. However, the laughs didn’t seem as big as they did at home. A comic named Dean Edwards, who had also auditioned for Saturday Night Live, was in Montreal as well. After one of my warm-up shows, Dean pulled me aside. “Kevin, you’re doing great,” he said. “There’s just one thing: slow down. Make sure everyone can understand you and you’re not breezing through your material. In New York, maybe you can talk that fast, but if you want everyone to relate to you here, you need to at least pause sometimes.”
That simple pivot was just what I needed. There were twenty-four other comics in the New Faces showcases besides Dean and me, and each of us was scheduled for two performances. They weren’t the biggest shows at the festival in terms of audience size, but they were the biggest in terms of industry turnout. This was where the heavyweights came to answer the question: Who’s the next big thing?
I obliterated the audience at both showcases so decisively that, afterward, the festival’s bookers added me to every event where they had space. Newspapers were writing about me. Strangers I walked past at parties were buzzing Kevin Hart, Kevin Hart, Kevin Hart. I felt like the Godzilla of comedy—I’d destroyed Montreal.
And then, like in every Godzilla movie, I got destroyed.
I was walking through the hotel lobby carrying two newspapers, both with great reviews of my sets. I wanted to save them and show them to my mom. Then I ran into Dean Edwards, who was also on a high from his amazing reviews. We went to the bar for a drink, and suddenly his phone rang.
“Hello? . . . Hold on a second—Kev, give me a sec, real quick.”
He stepped away and I overheard: “Yo, you lying, Jason—you lying! . . . Jason, don’t tell me that, man. Oh my God, man, you gotta—ohhhhh!”
It sounded like he was having an orgasm.
He hung up, then stood there, like he was catching his breath. As he walked back to me, he said, “I got it, man.”
“Got what?”
“SNL!”
It took me a second to process what he was saying. Then it clicked. “Give me a hug, man. Amazing!”
If he’d passed the audition, that meant I’d been rejected. One way to know you’re in a society that’s not equal is when there’s only one slot for a new black person in an ensemble cast, or in any group. It’s a sign that people are more concerned about looking equal than actually being equal.
Granted, Dean could do impressions. He’d done Scottie Pippen and Spike Lee on television before. And his De Niro had to be far better than mine. Anyone’s De Niro probably was.
“The best man got it,” I told him honestly, though deep inside I could hear the sound of my dreams being smashed to pieces.
“You the first one who knows, man,” Dean grinned. “Like, I ain’t even called my lady yet. This is crazy.”
I ordered celebratory shots and held mine up to toast him. “Dean, there’s enough spots out there for everybody, but goddammit, you got first place today. Go out there and show them, man. I’m proud to know you. Here’s to your success.”
An hour later, Dave called me. “Hey, buddy, I just wanna let you know that Dean Edwards got SNL.”
“Did they tell you why I didn’t get it?”
“No, but it’s all right. These things happen. You know, there’s a lot more out there besides SNL.”
“I’m fine. I just wanted the feedback. It’s all good.”