The antics of the comedy group Chucklehead in New York City in the 1980s
A Vogue headline announced "They'll Take Manhattan" and we were naive enough to believe it. The New York Post couldn't get enough of us. Little did we know what was in store for our little comedy troupe, Chucklehead, which took New York by storm in the 1980s. It was a wild, hilarious, and sometimes scary ride we would never forget. Here are our stories.
Excerpt
All this bother for five seconds of footage.
It was Saturday morning and our HQ for this particular shoot was Russell’s apartment on Second Avenue, near 12th Street. Everything was ready to go except the star of the segment. “It’s now or never, Rob,” Jim said, and suddenly he, Russell, Dirk, Rose, and Angie were all staring at me expectantly. I pulled off my polo shirt, then undid my belt, dropped my jeans, and took them off.
Now I was wearing nothing but navy blue bikini briefs. Angie came up to me with a blue towel. “Here’s your cape, honey,” she said, draping it over my back and safety-pinning the ends together under my chin.
“Can I get a bathrobe or something?” I pleaded. “I’m not going out without a bathrobe.”
On cue, Russell tossed me a bathrobe from his bedroom. I caught it in one hand and put it on. The sleeves were several inches too long for me, but it would have to do. Enough stalling. On with the show.
“Why was I chosen for this?” I had asked, when the video script was first read.
“Your regal bearing and your beard,” Dirk had explained.
En masse, we descended the staircase of Russell’s apartment building. Dirk, Russell, and Rose all carried pieces of video equipment. Angie carried my crown and scepter. Jim carried a couple of very ripe tomatoes.
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