Page 25                                             Winter 1995 - 96

In their first version of the NBA show, the athletically gifted Morse, who was a decathlete in college, concluded the routine by dunking a basketball as he ran off the court. But that was almost counterproductive, he explained. 'The crowd would go wild and people would congratulate me for the dunk, but I think it made them forget the rest of the show. We were upstaging our juggling with that one move."

 

They prefer full-length comedy shows with audiences close at hand, which they can present at comedy clubs and college and corporate venues. The corporate events pay the best, but also require the most preparation.

 

Most producers want performers to customize their routines to the corporation or

product with special tricks or characters. It often takes weeks of gag writing and

faxing scripts back and forth to prepare for these one­shot, high-pressure events,

Wee said.

 

The easiest shows are hour-long performances on college campuses and in comedy clubs, which include a long, latenight TV-announcer buildup to a leapfrog takeaway of a Chia Pet, Garden Weasel and The Club - with accompanying manipulation of a Thigh Master! They also do a two-high juggle of torches or sickles on a rola bola, ball juggling, a devil stick routine, rings, cigar boxes, and passing with six to ten clubs.

 

Wee added, "If you're a juggling team you pretty much have to pass something around someone from the audience!" So, The Passing Zone does this in outrageous fashion, passing sickles around a volunteer fitted with flaming headgear and four spinning plates. Lately they have begun rigging themselves with flaming helmets as well!

 

For the past 18 months they've been working on a "chain saw ballet," choreographed initially by Jon Held. It's a farcical piece played straight-faced to classical music that creates comedy from the contrast between the grinding danger of the three chain saws they end up cascading and their poofy costumes and serious attempts at jetees and plies. The routine is still evolving, hopefully to the point where it will land them another spot on the "Tonight Show" with Jay Leno or "The Late Show" with David Letterman.

 

They're also working on other routines that mayor may not make it to the stage - a guitar duo and a comic knife throwing routine. Since audiences don't know much about juggling, Morse said performers need to "educate" them. Or is that, "mis­educate" them?

 

Consequently, Morse admitted he jokes with the audience about just having learned nine club passing, even though they've been doing it since 1984. But he isn't bothered by such poetic license. "It's just a show! The chain saws aren't sharp either, but come on! The goal is to be entertaining, and any white lies that creep in are all for the sake of a good time. I just hope there aren't any kids out there quoting us in term papers!"

 

And in case there's anyone out there with a tape recorder, The Passing Zone keeps the show squeaky clean. They don't curse or use "blue" jokes. Morse said, "I like it that way. You realize how easy it is to get laughs with slightly blue material, but it feels good to get clean laughs. You've got to live with yourself."

 

The best thing about a juggling career, they believe, is that it gives them plenty of time outside of work to enjoy the rest of life. In their ample spare time, they enjoy mountain biking and hang gliding (sometimes with juggling colleague Mark Nizer). Morse has been married to Dorothee Hessmann for about 18 months now and enjoys spending time at home and on the road with her, and Wee is also involved in a significant relationship.

 

But where do you go after you've been seen by 100 million people in the Miss America Pageant? The Passing Zone guys wish they knew. Morse said, "There's gotta be another level of fame and fortune." But neither man is sure where that might be.

 

They look to role models like Michael Davis, the Smothers Brothers and Penn and Teller as prop comics who have developed mass-media careers that only incidentally depend on their vaudeville skills.

 

Morse asked, "How famous can a juggler be before he has to be something other than a juggler? It seems you've got to switch gears to do something else, because I don't know if America is ready to fall in love with a juggler. "

 

Many people know the Smothers Brothers as Magnavox spokespeople, and Michael Davis as "the Nokia guy."

 

"You have to laugh, but you realize the power of the commercial market," Morse said. "I think we'd be willing to give up our identity for the opportunity... I'll be the Depends guy, I'm not proud!"

 

If that opportunity doesn't materialize, they would like to develop a full 90­minute theatre show that they could tour to high-profile theatres nationwide. "We're enjoying success, but don't want to sit still," said Morse. "There's more out there to be doing and we're the guys to do it."

 

In any case, the whole juggling experience has been an indescribable honor and privilege, Wee said. "We're having the time of our lives. Every day we look at each other and say 'I can't believe people are actually paying us for this!' The money's good, we have free time, we travel, and it's a great creative outlet. It's funny, you learn to juggle at age 13 in your back yard, and the next thing you know you're on stage in a big show for Prince Charles wondering what happened."

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