We Had a Little Real Estate Problem: The Unheralded Story of Native Americans & Comedy

by Kliph Nesteroff Narrated by Kliph Nesteroff

Overview

A Best Book of 2021 by NPR and Esquire

From Kliph Nesteroff, “the human encyclopedia of comedy” (VICE), comes the important and underappreciated story of Native Americans and comedy.

It was one of the most reliable jokes in Charlie Hill's stand-up routine: “My people are from Wisconsin. We used to be from New York. We had a little real estate problem.”

In We Had a Little Real Estate Problem, acclaimed comedy historian Kliph Nesteroff focuses on one of comedy's most significant and little-known stories: how, despite having been denied representation in the entertainment industry, Native Americans have influenced and advanced the art form.

The account begins in the late 1880s, when Native Americans were forced to tour in wild west shows as an alternative to prison. (One modern comedian said it was as “if a Guantanamo detainee suddenly had to appear on X-Factor.”) This is followed by a detailed look at the life and work of seminal figures such as Cherokee humorist Will Rogers and Hill, who in the 1970s was the first Native American comedian to appear The Tonight Show.

Also profiled are several contemporary comedians, including Jonny Roberts, a social worker from the Red Lake Nation who drives five hours to the closest comedy club to pursue his stand-up dreams; Kiowa-Apache comic Adrianne Chalepah, who formed the touring group the Native Ladies of Comedy; and the 1491s, a sketch troupe whose satire is smashing stereotypes to critical acclaim. As Ryan Red Corn, the Osage member of the 1491s, says: “The American narrative dictates that Indians are supposed to be sad. It's not really true and it's not indicative of the community experience itself...Laughter and joy is very much a part of Native culture.”

Featuring dozens of original interviews and the exhaustive research that is Nesteroff's trademark, We Had a Little Real Estate Problem is a powerful tribute to a neglected legacy.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

★ 04/19/2021

Comedian Nesteroff (The Comedians) delivers a veritable who’s who of Native American comedy from “the rez” to New York City in this sometimes disturbing yet beautiful history. Starting with the contemporary Ojibwe comic Jonny Roberts—who, like many of his contemporaries, must drive hours to get to an open mic—and jumping back to the racist history of nearly forced Native participation in P.T. Barnum’s and Buffalo Bill shows, Nesteroff’s narrative returns often to the story of Oneida comic Charlie Hill. Hill’s ability to weave Native politics artfully into his work made him a superstar in the ’70 after he starred on Letterman, and he later used his success to jump-start the careers of other Native comics. Nesteroff also covers the 1491s—a Native sketch group—and the latest crew of Native comedic stars, among them Adrianne Chalepa, and TV writers Lucas Brown Eyes and Sierra Ornelas, who continue to work to put Indigenous actors on the big screen. This sharp collection addresses the politics, history, and merits of Native comedy in a way that’s never been done before. Agent: Daniel Greenberg. (Feb.)

From the Publisher

[Nesteroff] has carved out a niche as the premier popular historian of comedy because of his knack for unearthing such forgotten stories...[We Had a Little Real Estate Problem] provides context for an argument about the importance of representation.”—Jason Zinoman, The New York Times

“[A]n illuminating and stereotype-busting history of Native Americans and comedy.” –The Washington Post

“[A] thoughtful, passionate, and extremely well-researched look at the rarely examined history of indigenous American comedy...Nesteroff provides a history of one part of American life that also tells the story of something much more vast."—Brian Boone, New York Magazine (“The Best Comedy Books of 2021, So Far”)

“Kliph Nesteroff explores an overlooked side of comedy in We Had a Little Real Estate Problem. From its account of Native American marginalization to the Cherokee roots of Will Rogers, from the inspiring story of Charlie Hill to the new wave of young, hilarious, Indigenous comedians, this book is a game changer."—Judd Apatow

“Stuck with living out contradictions between what America says and what it does, Native people transformed a hard world of irony into one of wry and satirical humor. Kliph Nesteroff takes readers on a journey through this uncharted Indian comic world—its pasts and presents, legendary heroes and rising stars, insider jokes and desperate performances. The result is a fascinating and rich picture of the life-affirming, revolutionary practices of Native comedy.”—Philip J. Deloria, Harvard University

“My uncle used to tell this one joke, it went — no, no, just read this instead. It’s got the jokes and the jokesters, five hundred-plus years and counting.”—Stephen Graham Jones, bestselling author of The Only Good Indians

“A remarkable book that takes the history of Native American comedy and turns it into a page-turner. It seems like there’s a revelation in every one of its tight chapters. Applause for the book and the exciting artists who populate it.”—Steve Martin

"No one knows the inside story of comedy, and the trials and tribulations of the people who can't stop themselves from making it, like Kliph Nesteroff. It is so cool to observe how comedy lets people tell the truth - and Native Peoples certainly have alot to release through making fun. If you love the story of comedy, this is an untold side (til now)."—Bob Odenkirk

“Nesteroff has written a gem. We Had a Little Real Estate Problem tells the untold story of Native American comedy through contemporary interviews and historical analysis. He chips away at the myths of the stoic or long-suffering fate of ‘The Indian.’ In its place, he creates a vibrant counter-narrative that exposes the hilarious, irreverent, ambitious heart of modern Native America.”—David Treuer, author of Rez Life and The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee: Native America from 1890 to the Present

"A welcome introduction to an aspect of Native American life that merits broader exposure." —Kirkus Reviews

“Richly researched and told through the vibrant voices of the comics themselves...Kliph Nesteroff’s extraordinary We Had a Little Real Estate Problem chronicles a legacy deserving of inclusion in the history of comedy in the U.S.” —BookPage (starred review)

Library Journal

12/01/2020

With a title inspired by one of Oneida Nation actor and comedian Charlie Hill's famous lines ("My people are from Wisconsin. We used to be from New York. We had a little real estate problem"), this latest work by comedy historian Nesteroff (The Comedians) focuses on an often-overlooked history. From Natives forced to become sideshow attractions in Wild West routines to white actors making a living playing Native characters in vaudeville and silent films, Nesteroff recalls an ongoing legacy of assimilation practices, stereotypes, and discrimination. The strongest parts of the book center on biographical sketches of Cherokee actor Will Rogers and how his grandfather signing the Treaty of New Echota, which led to the Trail of Tears, continued to haunt the family. Other insightful chapters recount the influence of Hill and his groundbreaking debut on The Richard Pryor Show in 1977. Hill, who became a regular at the Comedy Store and ended up writing for Roseanne, inspired several Native comedians, whom Nesteroff interviews throughout. While only a handful of women are featured, insight from Cayuse/Nez Perce actress Elaine Miles and Kiowa/Apache comedian Adrianne Chalepah is welcome. VERDICT With no real comparison book, this well-documented history, though uneven at times, should spark interest and future research.—Stephanie Sendaula, Library Journal

Product Details

BN ID:	2940172914782
Publisher:	Simon & Schuster
Publication date:	02/16/2021
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

Jonny Roberts Drives Five Hours to Every Gig and Five Hours Back Jonny Roberts Drives Five Hours to Every Gig and Five Hours Back
For an Ojibwe social worker and part-time stand-up in the Red Lake Nation, getting to the closest open-mic night requires an arduous five-hour drive. Jonny Roberts says good-bye to his wife, two children, and eight young foster kids before departing on this exhausting routine. Roberts is driving to Minneapolis to do a show for an audience that might not even show up. It’s a long drive there and a long drive back—a total of ten hours—but it’s the only way for this reservation comic to get himself some stage time.

After having logged several hundred thousand miles driving vast distances from gig to gig, his 2004 Chevy Silverado has stopped working. Roberts thinks the transmission is probably dead. He borrows his wife’s black Dodge Nitro this afternoon and heads in the direction of Highway 89. “It’s pretty much farmland all the way until Saint Cloud, Minnesota,” says Roberts. “There are a few malls and gas stations, but mostly it’s a lot of nothing.” As he drives past the water tower with the Red Lake Nation insignia, he stops at the Red Lake Trading Post to fill up the tank. It’ll cost $120 to get him to the gig and back—a gig that pays zero dollars, and will last seven minutes.

Red Lake encompasses eight hundred thousand acres of mostly flat landscape. Roberts grew up here, obsessively recording stand-up comedians off of television, hoarding VHS tapes of the 1980s comedy boom. Commuting is his only option. He has few neighbors who share his passion. “They’ve tried comedy shows at the casino here, but it’s hard to get people to come out. There’s not much interest for comedy shows in this area and not much opportunity for stage time. So I take the two-hundred-sixty-mile trip for the experience.”

There is resilience in Red Lake, yet the reservation reels from intergenerational trauma in the form of addiction and suicide. A survey by the Minnesota Department of Health and Education determined that 48 percent of high school girls have attempted to end their life, and 81 percent have considered it. In a community with fewer than two thousand people, friends, neighbors, and family members are affected. In his capacity as a social worker, Roberts is only too familiar with the issues. As he heads toward the highway, he drives past a series of homemade billboards created by local schoolkids as part of a class project: UP WITH HOPE—DOWN WITH DOPE and IT’S LIFE—OR METH.

Thirty miles into the commute he enters Bemidji, Minnesota, and stops for a bathroom break. Down the street is a statue that stands eighteen feet tall. Made of concrete and plaster, the roadside attraction known as Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox has adorned thousands of postcards since 1937. Now armed with a bag of packaged popcorn, Roberts takes U.S. Route 2 out of the city and fumbles with a phone cord. He cues up a playlist of podcasts—WTF with Marc Maron, Urban Indianz hosted by Gabriel Night Shield, Red Man Laughing hosted by Ryan McMahon, and the Monday Morning Podcast with Bill Burr. He has four more hours to go.

Arriving in Minneapolis just as the sun is setting, he walks into the Spring Street Tavern, where fifteen young comedians are milling about. There are nine people in the crowd. Roberts sits in a corner, reviewing a notepad, scratching out some topics and adding others. Tonight is his first bout of stage time in forty-seven days.

Ninety minutes later, he’s onstage telling jokes. “I think it’s great that Bruce Jenner transitioned to Caitlyn Jenner,” he tells the sparse crowd. “But I don’t think she should have picked a young woman’s name. I mean—she’s seventy years old. Are you kidding me? Her name should be Gladys.”

After the show, the other open-mic comedians are hanging out, smoking joints, talking about their next gig, but Roberts is already gone. He has to take his houseful of kids to day care in the morning. It’s 11 p.m. and there’s a five-hour drive ahead of him.

“I’ve been doing stand-up for eight years,” says Roberts. “Sometimes I think I should just quit.” Compared to his contemporaries in Los Angeles and New York, the amount of stage experience Roberts has is minimal. In New York, a comedian with eight years of experience can get onstage every single night. Someone who’s really hustling can do as many as six shows in a single evening. Roberts is lucky if he gets onstage once a month. That makes it hard to move forward. Most open-mic hopefuls are between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three. Roberts is in his early forties. “It’s an advanced age for sure,” he says. “Although they said Rodney Dangerfield went back to comedy at forty-four. So that’s always in the back of my mind.”

Some of his ambition is motivated by a desire to get away from his job, and some of the things he has seen as a social worker have left him shaken. “I just want to walk away from the things I read about in the files. I just want to walk away from what I see on a daily basis.... I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this.... I have no outlet.” Roberts hopes stand-up is the answer.

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