One final taping — then I’m taking The Mystery Hour off of TV. It is good and it is sad, but it is good. Here’s why.
So. Here I am. After one final taping, I am taking The Mystery Hour off of TV. If I could tell my 2006 self that I was doing this, I imagine myself from 2006 would say, “Why would you do that? That was our dream!” Followed by, “Wait, we got this thing on TV?” I would say, “Yeah, but it would be better if it was on Netflix at this point.” My 2006 self would say, “You want the show to be a movie on DVD that you mail to people??” We would have a lot of ground to cover.
Those of you that know me a little, know me well, or know me from afar, probably know that I have been pretty upfront that this has been my dream since I remember and that it’s pretty miraculous that we got here.
To be clear, the live show isn’t going away & the digital content isn’t going away. The TV show is going away. The Writers’ Room Creative Comedy Agency keeps going, me hosting events keeps going, and customized corporate Mystery Hours also keep going (also fun random pop-up shows). Now, I want to give the impression that I’m just going with the flow, and this has been easy, but truthfully, this decision has been heart wrenching. This has been my baby, my passion, for 15 years, and going for The Big Dream has been a part of it. But also truthfully, any decision I make is heart wrenching, Diet Dr. Pepper? Diet Dr. Pepper Vanilla? Diet Dr. Pepper Cherry? This nearly leaves me in a pile of anxiety every time in front of the weird soda fountain vending machine thing with somehow unlimited options.
Let’s start here.
It’s January 2020, before the world started hurting, and I’m looking to sign my 7 year old up for a basketball league. I sign him up, and then realize that I will be gone for work like four out of five weekends, so we don’t end up doing it (That was a particularly busy few weeks for me).
That’s the moment I started recognizing that I needed to look into doing something different. See, as The Mystery Hour grew, I couldn’t do a regular full-time job, so I traveled and hosted events. I generally liked it, and still do, just not as the main, or only source of income. I also want to be the dad that’s available for things like that. I want to not have my travel or shooting schedule mess with my wife’s schedule so much anymore.
Then COVID swings in and we all slow down. And I slowed down. And I liked it.
Like a lot of people, it gave me perspective for where I truly wanted to put my energy. I’ve always mostly done this, but I’ve also always been pretty scattered and overwhelmed as well. If you think of The Mystery Hour as the passion I’ve been doggedly pursuing for 15 years, the consensus is, “Keep going, you can do it!” If you think of it as this thing that makes you almost no money that you do on nights and weekends, the consensus would be, “Stop doing that! Slow down!”
I am very excited to continue doing the live show and digital content. I am very sad about stopping The Big Dream that has involved so many people. Both, for sure. Things can be both (shout out to #therapy #Burrell)
It’s this very unique thing, you see. I don’t mean, in this instance, a syndicated late night talk show out of Springfield, MO. I mean this relationship between a boy and his community, or a boy and his ragtag group of friends, and their community.
I’ve always called The Mystery Hour a community passion project, and here is what I mean.
I started with The Skinny Improv in 2004, and we had an unbelievable crowd that would come out. We did shows every Friday and Saturday, and every Friday and Saturday night a crowd would come out. I probably did like 700 improv shows. That is so uncommon for most big cities, let alone, one the size of Springfield. My favorite part of that, looking back was the connection between the performers, the connection to the audience, and their connection to each other.
Is this sounding cheesy? I don’t care! I love earnestness.
Then, I decide, before we have kids, I gotta go move to Los Angeles and really give comedy a proper shot. I remember feeling buoyed by the encouragement of friends and strangers. I will always remember Skinny Improv fans, Mark and Dorothy taking me to lunch and giving me some cash to help with gas on the way out. When I was living there I had a daily blog, mostly followed by Springfield people, and the comment section on that blog was filled with constant interest and encouragement. My time in LA can’t be described as a success by any traditional measure, but there is that thread again.
Then I come back and we get the show on TV. Which, to be clear, we had no business doing. No business! I may have played up to the TV station that I was coming back from Hollywood, which is absolutely true, that is where my address was, yet Hollywood, the entity, knew me not. In my inimitable way that looks opportunities in the eye and declares, “We’re doing it! Join me! We’re not bound by money because I don’t really understand how it works!” We had a television show. The community as a whole said, “Let’s give it a shot!” Writers, production, tech, TV station, sponsors, fans, the Gillioz, etc.
Then, we grew and we grew and we grew. Yes, I’m yada yada-ing a lot of big stuff. It’s okay, it’s to get to the important stuff.
Hosting a late night talk show is maybe what I do best. I’m not saying that I’m the best at it, I’m saying that of the things I do career-wise, it’s what I do the best. Hosting, comedy, interviewing, videos, I love it all, it’s in my wheelhouse.
I should not know that. I grew up in Iowa and moved to Missouri. Neither a hotbed of TV shows. I should not know that experientially. I’m confident that I know that partly because I started growing in my belly some good old fashioned gumption, but mostly because I had amazing individuals that came alongside me, and because I have been the fortunate recipient of a community willing to support and cheer me on.
Here’s a weird thought I often have. “Man, I would love to lead a ragtag group of kids to the state championship in basketball.” Then, I realized that I’ve done that. All of us involved with the show have no business on the surface making a TV show. I venture, in the most respectful way, to say all of us. Yet, somehow, we’ve done it. Even Brandon Hite, who’s production company Hite Media has always shot the show — he just made up his career too. Frank Gonzales, our producer — a producer for a TV show — what does he do? He like buys and sells things on Craigslist. Writer Katie Day has four kids, and works full time. Makeup artist Cara Maddock drives down from St. Louis with her husband Joe for tapings. Ragtag in the most beautiful way. I am so in love with this team that we made, hiding super powered talent under the veil of ordinary jobs.
I think I’ll do another post soon that lists everybody and their unique talents, but it’s very late and I’m certain that in this state I will forget important people.
My point is that I’ve been a recipient of so much generosity that has made my dreams, and others, come true. I was a shy kid who kinda secretly liked comedy. I never thought this would happen. My hope is that I have multiplied what I have received in generosity outward. A prism that receives light and shines a variety of colors.
- I’ve loved being able to think up big ideas with talented creative people. Our writers’ room is full of legit writers and creative people that could write for any show. Our production folks are second to none.
- I love that for all my talk of the value of community, that we succeeded at making a show that was plain funny.
- I love thinking of a musician that got to play in front of a crowd of 500, and on TV for the first time. A big moment.
- I also love thinking about someone being interviewed as a guest and made to feel like the star of the night.
- I love thinking about adding quirky joy to our city
- I love that we exported Springfield to other places, and that we shined a positive light on our town
- I have always loved receiving an email from someone saying they want to help out with the show, and they’re passionate and talented at ___. I would say, “Great, we could use someone to ___.” Then that person starts _____ing for a TV show. I like providing an outlet for people’s talents and creativity.
- I hope we’ve helped make weird more normal in our city that can overvalue normalcy.
- I hope we’ve showcased and humanized a diversity of people with our guests over the years.
- I hope we highlighted that there are an abundance of interesting people doing interesting things in our area. After 225 TV shows, 39 live shows, 70 live streaming shows we haven’t run out of guests or musicians.
- I also hope that we’ve inspired other people to think big, go after big ideas, no matter where they live. Make Something Where You Are, if you will.
- I love that all together we purchased 25,000 HotHands for the homeless, helped eradicate $8 million in medical debt, and gave 10% of the box office proceeds of every taping to local non-profits.
- I loved throwing a big party, that everyone’s invited to.
- I hope to continue doing most of these things.
The Mystery Hour was always built to swing for the fences. I’m so proud of how we’ve always done that. I was a previously timid soul when it comes to putting yourself out there, and I’m so happy that when I near the end of my life I’ll ask myself, “Did you go for it?” I’ll reply to myself, “Yeah, we f**king went for it.” Then my 2006 self will say, “Okay, yeah, but cool, but how are you on Netflix? That phrasing makes no sense. Again, they deliver DVDs. What are you holding? A phone? It doesn’t even flip.”
Here’s all I know. I know that all of the best things in my life have come from being scared and doing it anyway. Taking a risk, going for it, has all led to the things I cherish most. I fit inside that thought easily — moving to LA, starting a show, moving to Springfield to see about a girl. Now, the scary thing for me is to stop the show — so I gotta do it, to see what awesome thing awaits on the other side. Maybe it’s something bigger and better, or maybe it’s something smaller and better.
I’ve really started to think about achievement. Is the value in the actual achievement of things, or is it the process of going for it? Shoulder to shoulder with people, trying to pull off something too big for you, stressed and happy — the joy that comes from connection and a shared goal.
Once you realize that it’s the going for it and not the getting there, it’s time to stop trying to grasp the thing just out of reach and start appreciating the people that you’re climbing with. You were achieving the dream the whole time, you just needed to stop looking up and start looking beside you. So that’s what I’m doing. Keeping a quarterly live show — making the thing — in a joyful way — aligned, not so burdened with TV requirements. The community, the connection, the relationship remains.
So, we’re back in 2020, the year that hurts, I’m looking across the dinner table at my wife, Michelle. I have had a passionate side hustle since 2004. That was so long ago now. She has always pretzeled her schedule around my weird one. It’s always been fine, just pretzely. She deserves some better schedule consistency from me, maybe some me pretzeling for her more. We’re getting into activities ages with the boys, I want to step up more, more like she always has.
Because sometimes you stop trying to grasp the thing just out of reach and start appreciating the people that you’re climbing with.
I picked up my coaches’ packet this afternoon. Baseball season starts Thursday. I’m excited to coach my son.
See you at the live events. I appreciate you more than I could ever explain.
[Taping on Friday, June 18th!]
