It's his moment to shine, and Pete Davis is nervous. With the spotlight beating down on his pale face and 60 slightly drunk eyes staring back at him, the 19-year-old Virginian continues to sweat. Drops cascade from his forehead as he uncomfortably shifts back and forth on stage. He inches up closer to the microphone, clutching the note cards in his hand as if afraid they will fly away. The only sounds emanating from his mouth are incomprehensible stutters as he weakly smiles at the audience.
And then he speaks.
"Hi, I'm Pete Davis, and I'm here to speak affirmatively about trains," the Harvard University sophomore says. "This is an interactive presentation, yes, but an interruptive one, no. So please turn off all your cell phones, pagers and pacemakers."
A titter ripples through the once mute crowd as it slowly begins to realize that his behavior is part of the act. The tension is finally lifted. Armed with a laptop at his side, Davis then launches into a 10-minute set, feigning a youth's PowerPoint presentation about how trains are the most effective — and admirable — form of transportation.
While nerves have dismantled even the most composed of figures at Cambridge's The Comedy Studio, tucked above the Hong Kong Chinese restaurant, the audience realizes that a sweaty Davis is a funny Davis.
Across the city many hours before, Myq Kaplan has woken up. With the sun slowly poking up on the horizon, Kaplan rises out of bed and walks through his living room, glancing at a table covered with empty Netflix envelopes. This is the life of a true comic: waking up early to watch DVDs and crack jokes. Kaplan, who recently recorded a stand-up special for Comedy Central, takes a deep breath as he recounts his lengthy journey to the big time. He has made it in this industry.
Davis and Kaplan are just two of many stand-up comedians in the greater Boston area who represent a blossoming trend that, amidst depressing economic times, has seen an inordinate spike in recent years.
"The percentage of comics who come out of this small area is insane," said Rick Jenkins, owner and manager of The Comedy Studio in Harvard Square. "I think it's because we've always got new people coming in; colleges in Boston really supply people with the opportunity to get involved and really work at what they want to do."
"Particularly in recent years, there's a new surge of clubs coming along," said Boston City Councilor John Tobin, who also owns Tommy's Comedy Lounge and is the founder of the Boston Comedy Hall of Fame and the Boston Comedy Festival. "That's been driven by college kids who neither have the money nor the stage time to move out to New York or L.A. Given that, the best thing to do with college kids is to provide opportunities for them on stage."
With open-mic nights strewn across the city, Boston now rivals New York and Chicago as the country's largest concentration of funny people. Some might explain the blossoming trend as purely based on numbers, a direct correlation to the sheer volume of students.
Others see the inordinate number of successful comedians coming out of Boston as related to the town's nature, which inherently breeds comedy.
"There's a certain wise-ass, wise-guy cynicism that is very prevalent," Tobin said. "The sports teams weren't doing well until the Red Sox won the World Series, the weather here stinks, and they're very cynical about the politicians. That anger gets picked up by comedians and fed back to audiences."
Davis, though, has come up with what he considers his own revolutionary theory. "L.A. had Hollywood, New York had ‘Greatest City in the World,'" he said. "But Boston, aside from the Freedom Trail and the Red Sox, what were they going to define themselves as? With a lot of people getting off work and wanting to rant about getting off work, it just took off."
Regardless of the scene's origins, one thing remains the same: Boston has produced some of the world's most famous comedians. While household names like Jay Leno, Conan O'Brien, Denis Leary, Dane Cook, and Louis C.K. all boast different comedy styles, the one common denominator remains the same: They all got their start in Beantown.
Davis also fits this description. He performed his first stand-up act for his high school's spring variety show, and once he moved to Boston for college, continuing his comedic career seemed the logical step.
"Boston is thriving," Davis said. "In Boston, there's the elite, the gatekeepers of comedy. It takes more work and more organization to make it in Boston. Here, if you're being amateurish about it, you're only going to get a coffee shop or a bar."
For some older and more experienced comedians like Kaplan, Boston provided the starting point for honing their unique talent. Kaplan attended Brandeis and then Boston University (BU) for his master's degree in linguistics. At BU, he worked as a graduate assistant, teaching during the day and then performing at clubs throughout the city by night.
His big break came in 2006, when he won an award at a showcase that was part of the D.C. Comedy Festival. This led to an appearance on Comedy Central's "Live at Gotham," a program showcasing budding comedians. Shortly after, Kaplan recorded his "Comedy Central Presents" half-hour special.
Having moved on from telling jokes like, "Philadelphia used to be named ‘Liberty Bell Town,' but they changed it because it didn't have a good ring to it," Kaplan now lives the life of a professional, traveling across the country and lounging at home, where his girlfriend Myka Fox — also a comedian — occasionally interrupts his thoughts by entering the room and clucking like a chicken.
Especially in dreary economic times, the ultimate goal for prospective college stand-ups is to make it in the industry. For some, like Shane Mauss, this has become a reality thanks to the Boston area's scene.
Mauss knew from an early age that stand-up was the right career path. After performing in the Boston Comedy Festival in 2006 and winning an award for best stand-up at another festival, Mauss appeared on the "Conan O'Brien Show." Like Kaplan, he performed on "Live at Gotham" before getting his own Comedy Central special. For him, being on television constituted "making it."
"The special was definitely my dream the whole time growing up," he said. "Coming up in high school, I would always watch those, and that was the ultimate goal for me then. It was really incredible that I've gotten to do that so quickly."
In reality, succeeding in the comedy industry, especially for college students, involves much more work than some may think, as budding college comedians must dedicate themselves to perfecting jokes and performing on stage. Doing so can be difficult, especially for a college student focused more on getting A's than open-mic nights.
"When I see someone really killing it, my first thought is if they're going to come back and be able to match that energy and focus next time," Jenkins said. "I'm not looking for how well they did on this test, but how good their study patterns and work ethics are that they'll be able to repeat that performance."
Whether it is in the classroom, in the dating scene or at a fraternity house, the college environment naturally fosters competition. But in the comedic scene, all this jealousy disappears, even as stand-ups vie for different slots in shows. Jenkins, for instance, likens it to a playground where the inexperienced get to play and learn with the seasoned veterans. This lack of competition tends to encourage college students to keep with their dreams.
"The comedians are really friendly and nice to each other, and they're excited about young people," Davis added. "Say there's this gay Iranian in the Boston scene, and he's doing a bit about being a gay Iranian and not something about being awkward. We're not competing against each other. He's trying to be the best gay Iranian he can be, and I'm going to be the best awkward I'm going to be. We can both win."
So what does the future hold for college students looking to break into the industry? As the entertainment industry gradually evolves into the digital age, the stand-up comedy scene figures to remain a staple of the Boston area.
"People have cable with 4,000 channels and movie theaters in their garages," Tobin said. "But when you see someone doing 45 minutes on television, it's not the same in a comedy club where a waitress can drop a tray of drinks or a heckler or a fire alarm goes off. Anything can happen in a live performance; there's an excitement and energy that you can't get in your living room. I'll take it any day of the week over Twitter or Facebook."
