***Shameless promotion of the Chuckleheads’ 20th Birthday/Anniversary Show (at the bottom of this blog post.***)
It was early 2001, and I was toiling away as the “office manager” at the Tile Collection granite fabrication facility, just a stone’s throw from Pineville, North Carolina, in Fort Mill, South Carolina.
On that seemingly ordinary day, with the clock ticking ever so slowly towards 5 PM, I had no inkling that I was about to embark on the most transformative journey of my life—one that would turn the mundane into the magical.
As I flipped through the pages of the Fort Mill Times—remember newspapers? —an article caught my eye. It featured Keli Semelsberger, a local who had journeyed all the way to Chicago for business. There, she faced her fear of public speaking by diving into improvisational theatre. After a decade of rubbing elbows with legends like Amy Poehler, she found herself pregnant and yearning for home. Upon her return, she discovered a lack of improvisational theatre classes and shows in her hometown. So, what did she do? She took matters into her own hands and founded her own improv company.
Flashback to my past: the last creative endeavor I undertook was in Pittsburgh, where I penned three screenplays before deciding to move to Charlotte. After earning my B.S. in Communications from Clarion University of Pennsylvania, I had been a college radio DJ, relishing the solo act of spinning tunes. Yet 15 years post-graduation, I was at a crossroads, desperately seeking the next chapter of my story.
My journey took me to Orange County, California, where I stayed with a relative, I had never met. A lover of movies and television, I hoped to find my place in the land of dreams. But soon enough, reality hit hard, and I realized that California was not my scene. On the flight back to Pittsburgh, I had a heart-to-heart with myself: “What’s Plan B?” My answer came rushing back—Charlotte, North Carolina, a place that had intrigued me since the late ’80s.
With a high school buddy, John Petrucci, already settled in Charlotte, I reached out to see if I could crash with him while exploring job opportunities. Back then, finding a job meant sifting through the massive Sunday want ads. To my surprise, Alamo Rent a Car was hiring incoming call customer/sales agents for their call center in the bustling SouthPark area. With my experience in the incoming call center world, thanks AT&T and others, I jumped at the opportunity. For the next two years, I immersed myself in the life of a cubicle warrior, donning my headset and racking up impressive monthly sales stats. I worked tirelessly, clocking in excessive hours and slowly rebuilding my finances.
But amid the ringing phones and sales quotas, something vital was missing. From July 1995 until early 2001, I had not engaged in any creative pursuits. The need for expression was building up inside me like a pressure cooker, and I didn’t even realize it. Every time someone asked me, “What do you want to do for a living?” I would stammer out a vague, “I want to do something creative,” without a clear idea of what that even meant.
Back then, the options for creative outlets seemed limited. The internet was in its infancy, YouTube was still a glint in someone’s eye, and I was not particularly good at memorization, making traditional theatre or plays feel daunting and out of reach. Yet I was always the funny one—the quick-witted jokester—who could rattle off movie quotes and trivia like a walking IMDb. But where did I fit into the world of creativity?
Then came that fateful article about Keli Semelsberger and her improv classes, illuminating a path I never knew existed. I had never heard the word “improv” before, but suddenly it felt like a door had swung wide open. Keli was offering classes in improvisational theatre near Uptown Charlotte (which we don’t call “downtown” here). I didn’t hesitate; I signed up for the introductory classes.
The day of my first class arrived, and I found myself sitting in my car, parked in the CVS lot across from the venue, nervously trying to talk myself out of it. The thought of walking up the stairs to that class filled me with dread. What if I bombed? What if I made a fool of myself? I almost drove away more than once, but then my frugality kicked in. I had spent good, hard-earned money on these classes, and I wasn’t about to waste it!
Summoning every ounce of courage, I climbed the stairs and took a seat among my fellow students. From the moment the first scene began, it was love at first laugh. It was like I had finally found the missing piece of my puzzle. The energy in the room was electric, and as I immersed myself in the exercises, I realized that my brain was perfectly wired for improv. I had been an improvisational performer my whole life without even knowing it until that moment. At 37 years young, I was awakening to a new side of myself.
Keli, sensing my enthusiasm and potential, invited me to join her improv troupe, Extreme Improv. It didn’t take much convincing; I was in! My first performance was a whirlwind of adrenaline and laughter. I vividly recall one of the games involving me on an airplane, desperately needing to relieve myself. The absurdity of the scene had the audience roaring, and I felt a rush like no other.
I performed at various shows, including a heartfelt 9/11 memorial event, where the power of laughter and connection became palpable. Those moments on stage were the highlights of my week—each class and performance reigniting a spark that had been dormant for far too long.
However, after three incredible years, a falling out with Keli led to my departure from the troupe. Devastated but not defeated, I knew I wasn’t ready to abandon improv just yet. The question was, how could I keep this newfound passion alive? It was during this period of uncertainty that I decided to take the plunge and start my own troupe, The Pink Turtle SketchProv Experience.
We kicked things off by performing at Tiber Creek Pub on Friday and Saturday nights. It was exhilarating to create and perform my own material,
We eventually encountered roadblocks. One night after our show some troupe members made poor choices and disrespected our venue, leading to our expulsion from (our then home) the Dilworth Neighborhood Grille. The setback left me disheartened, and I eventually decided to retire from improv. It had been a great four-year run, but it began to feel more like a chore than a joy.
Yet the creative itch was relentless. Not long after, the universe conspired to reintroduce me to improv through a new circle of friends—an eclectic mix of veteran and newbie improvisers. Among them was Ryan Sullivan, who held the rights to the name “Chuckleheads” from a troupe he had led far up north. With a few rehearsals in his condo, we quickly gelled, and the Chuckleheads were ready to take the stage.
Our debut performance took place at the Actor’s Theatre of Charlotte (RIP), a venue that had been a cornerstone of the Charlotte arts scene. The energy in the room that night was palpable, a mix of excitement and nerves as we prepared to step into the spotlight. I can still remember the palpable buzz of anticipation in the air, the laughter of the audience echoing like a warm embrace. It felt like home.
As we took the stage, I was reminded of the thrill that had first drawn me to improv—creating on the fly, responding to my fellow performers, and weaving together spontaneous stories that drew laughter and gasps from the audience. The Chuckleheads quickly became a staple in the local improv scene, and our shows have attracted thousands of audience members over the past 20 years.
Each performance was a unique journey, filled with unexpected twists and turns, and the feeling of camaraderie among cast members made every moment unforgettable.
Over the next two decades, the Chuckleheads evolved, other than my head hundreds of other heads came and went. Each new face brought fresh energy and ideas, contributing to a vibrant tapestry of creativity from their unique life experiences. We explored countless short-form and long-form scenes, experimenting with what improv could be. We tackled everything from silly characters to heartfelt moments, always striving to push boundaries while making our audiences laugh.
Reflecting on these past 20 years of Planet Improv and the Chuckleheads and 25 years as an improviser on a stage and in classrooms, I marvel at how far I’ve come. What started as a simple newspaper article about a local improv class turned into a lifelong passion and a community of artists who have become like family to me. The journey has taught me the importance of embracing creativity, staying open to new experiences, and finding joy in the unpredictable nature of life.
As The Chuckleheads celebrate our 20th anniversary, I can’t help but feel immense gratitude for the laughter, friendships, and unforgettable moments that have shaped my life. Here’s to the next chapter, filled with more laughter, more stories, and even more heads chuckling. Who knows what the future holds? But one thing is for sure: I’ll be ready for whatever comes next, armed with nothing but my quick wit, an open heart, and a love for improv that knows no bounds. Cheers to 20 years of Chuckleheads’ laughter and the many more to come!
You can read more about the 20th Birthday/Anniversary Chuckleheads’ Show and purchase tickets at the Eventbrite link below.
https://www.eventbrite.com/e/the-chuckleheads-planet-improv-celebrate-20-years-of-laughter-tickets-1984978041757?aff=oddtdtcreator&keep_tld=true