Paul Mecurio

KALAMAZOO -- Paul Mecurio lived a life out of ``Fight Club'' in the mid-'90s, except the fighting was standup.

``I was working in Wall Street, making huge acquisition deals, and writing jokes as a hobby,'' Mecurio said during a phone interview from his home in New York City.

He sent a joke to Jay Leno, and he used it on the ``Tonight Show.'' ``He paid me $50 for this little joke, it was unbelievable,'' Mecurio said. ``It was an incredible feeling (seeing people laugh). One thing led to another, and I began living a secret double life as a lawyer by day, a comic by night.''

Mecurio, who will perform Saturday at the State Theatre, snuck out to perform at open mic nights in dive bars ``to get my fix, you know?''

He was ashamed to tell anyone. His girlfriend (now wife) thought he was cheating on her because he smelled of beer and cigarettes when he finally got home. He was exhausted all the time, and it showed at work.

Some other lawyer snidely insulted him at a meeting once.

``Just a nasty, masters-of-the-universe kind of guy. And I just got right back at him with an anti-heckle line I used in clubs. ... `You know, I could've been your father, but the dog beat me over the fence.''' READ MORE...

The 20 other lawyers at the meeting all did an ``awkward, country club type laugh.'' It was one of the many times Mecurio got called into the office.

Another night, Mecurio left the office to do five minutes of open mic at the Downtown Beirut II.

``You know when people on the streets bug you for money to go drinking? This is the club where they go to drink.''

It was well-known as a home for ``pimps, pushers, the dregs of society, and open-mic night,'' Mecurio said.

There had been a fight, and the guy at the mic before Mecurio got his neck slashed.

``You'd think there'd be a lot of blood, but it wasn't so deep that he couldn't stand. He was drunk out of his mind. And here I am, in my little suit, my little white shirt and tie, you know ... ''

Mecurio's opening line, ``I always wanted to follow a slashing,'' didn't get a good reaction. ``I thought that was a pretty clever line, you know. But when the guy heard me say `slashing,' he took all these bloody napkins and charged the stage. `You talkin' 'bout me?!? You little son of a ...' And he threw all the napkins at me.''

He got blood on his white shirt.

``Now, a normal person would say, `this is bad,' and he'd get off stage. I stayed ... I'm doin' my five minutes.''

The wounded drunk heckled him, yelling, ```What are you tryin' to do, anyway?!?' He's screamin', bleedin', he's a mess. I said, `I'm trying to tell jokes.' He turned around to the bar and yells, `Hey, everybody! Shut the hell up! He's tryin' to tell us jokes!'''

There were no laughs. ``The whole place went silent.''

Mecurio slunk off and got a cab back to the office. He had unfinished work to do, and it was midnight. Some crisis had erupted in the office while he was gone.

``A senior partner was screamin' at me. `Where have you been?... We couldn't find you, we had to -- WHY DO YOU HAVE A BLOOD STAIN ON YOUR SHIRT?!?'''

Mecurio realized his dual life wasn't working out and went full-time into comedy. In 1996, he became one of the original writers of Comedy Central's ``The Daily Show,'' getting in trouble with the office there for his Monica Lewinsky ``Got Milk?'' bit. He also won an Emmy and a Peabody for the show.

He and the writing team got the Peabody, a serious prize for broadcast journalism, for their coverage of the 2000 election. It was a big achievement for a guy who, just six years earlier, had been getting accosted by bloody drunks in dive bars.

Mecurio is now focused on standup and working on the pilot for his own Seinfeldian sitcom based on his past dual life.