Learning from Paul Shaffer
Career Lessons from the Guy Behind the Guy
I was very excited this week to release my podcast conversation with Paul Shaffer, whom most will remember as David Letterman’s long-time musical sidekick. But comedy fans of a certain age know that Shaffer was much more than Dave’s Ed McMahon or Hank Kingsley.
Before joining up with Letterman, Shaffer had already served as music director for a hit play, had helped assemble The Blues Brothers band, and had provided musical stylings for the first few years of Saturday Night Live. As such, he was entrenched in the most influential North American comedy movement of the 1970s and early ‘80s.
While listening to his memoir in preparation for our chat, I couldn't get over the role Shaffer played in the humor that informed my emerging comedic sensibilities. My admiration for his accomplishments has grown accordingly, and I see a few career-related themes worth contemplating.*
Listen to my conversation with Paul Shaffer on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.
Don’t Go to Law School
Like so many creative folks, Shaffer—well, his parents, actually—struggled with the “go the safe route v. follow my dreams” dilemma. After finishing up at the University of Toronto, he had to pick a career path. His dad was pushing for law school, but the young graduate knew he had to give “the music thing” a shot.
They came to an agreement: Paul would pursue life as a musician for a year. If he couldn’t pay his rent, he’d head back to the law library. As you’ll see below, Shaffer did what he had to do and got his big break.
But even if he was never discovered, as with 99.98% of aspiring artists, he at least gave it a try. And if there’s a thing that you have/your kid has to do, you owe it to yourself/them to give that thing some sunshine and water.
So don’t go to law school…at least right away. I’m not saying you might not want to go back to law school or learn another, more reliable trade at some point, but if you got the music in ya, it’s not gonna go away.
Say Yes
You’ve no doubt heard about the improv comedy rule where you always reply to a prompt from another player with “Yes, and…” After one actor says, “I see you have some breakfast there,” the other builds on the scenario by saying, “Yes, and it’s the largest pancake in all of Texas.” There was a lot of “saying yes, and…” in Shaffer’s career.
Paul’s big break came when he accompanied his singing actress friend on her audition for Godspell. The production’s composer was Steven Schwartz. Nobody knew it then, but Schwartz would go on to massive theatrical achievements, including creating the music for a little show called Wicked. When Schwartz saw the skill and enthusiasm with which Shaffer played, he invited the pianist to become the play’s musical director.
Thus did Shaffer begin his long-time friendship with the mind-blowing cast that included Gilda Radner, Martin Short, Eugene Levy, and Victor Garber (all in one place!). This led him to hang out with Toronto’s Second City troupe and eventually to NYC and Saturday Night Live where he got to say, “Yes, Bill Murray, let’s re-write the Star Wars Theme in the style of a cheesy lounge singer,” and “Yes, John Belushi, let’s convene a stone-cold groovy band to celebrate the blues.”
When talking to him last week, I noticed a conversational technique that may demonstrate why he was such a great partner to Letterman. At one point, we were discussing why the music we hear as teens sticks with us for the rest of our lives, and I suggested there was a connection between our ears and our hormones. To my semi-original thought, he generously replied, “I’ve never heard it put better.”
This tendency to affirm others probably opens up not just podcast interviews but opportunities we can’t see until we allow for their possibility by saying yes.
Be loyal
The most excruciating experience of Shaffer’s career—at least of everything he shares in his book—was being cast out of The Blues Brothers movie. After putting together the group with Belushi, Shaffer played with the band on three episodes of SNL and recorded a live album as the opening act for Steve Martin at Universal Amphitheater (what would you give to go back in time to see that?).
Based on the power of the music, a Dan Akroyd / John Landis script, and Belushi’s star power, a movie was soon in the works. But Shaffer was busy working on a record with Gilda Radner, his old friend from Toronto. Belushi had warned Shaffer to keep his schedule free and was unwilling to let him work on both projects. In some kind of territorial power move, Belushi announced that Shaffer was out of the band, a banishment that Shaffer described as “devastating.”
The Blues Brothers went on to become the 9th top grossing film of 1980 behind such power-houses as The Empire Strikes Back and Kramer v. Kramer. It is rightly considered one of the most iconic comedy movies of the era, and—perhaps most hurtful of all—it celebrated the members of the band. It made these anonymous session musicians, if not movie stars, then guest stars in a film that was both commercially successful and as hip as movies get. Because of that exposure, you might recognize the names Tom “Bones” Malone, Donald “Duck” Dunn, and Matt “Guitar” Murphy.
“It killed me,” Shaffer told me and I was outraged on his behalf. But after thinking about it, I wondered how things would have worked out if he broke his commitment and abandoned Gilda. Of course we can only speculate on the counterfactual, but surely he would have experienced massive guilt when she died a few years later. And maybe—just maybe—David Letterman invited him to partner up because Shaffer was the kind of guy who kept his word and prioritized friendship over career advancement.
Choosing Shaffer proved to be a great decision for Letterman. Of course there never could have been Late Night without the eponymous star, but in retrospect, do you think the show would have run for over three decades without his “good friend, Paul Shaffer”?
Maybe so, but it would have been less crazy, nutty, fun.
*These assertions are based solely on my arms-length interpretation and conjecture. Take them for what they’re worth.
Loyalty always prevails. Good for Paul Shaffer.