Joan of Snark

Many people don't even think of Rivers as a comedian, but rather as a red carpet bitch, lacerating the famous with her acid tongue, or as a QVC diva, pedalling gaudy jewelry to suburban women. Yet before she inhabited either of those roles—and even before she was a Tonight Show mainstay, late-night calamity, owner of the phrase "Can we talk?", mother, widow, grandmother and plastic surgery addict–she was a stand-up comedian in downtown New York. As with many of her pals from that time, Rivers would springboard to a higher pay scale and level of fame, reminiscing about her scrappy days playing the small rooms. But unlike those colleagues, in an astonishing twist of showbiz chutzpah, Rivers chose to return.

It was a little over four years ago when Rivers went back to playing small New York City clubs. She was well into old-ladyhood and had moved beyond the hardships that had nearly wrecked her in the '80s: the cancellation of her late-night show and her husband's suicide. She booked a performance at Fez Under Time Café, a snug cabaret space situated beneath a Moroccan restaurant in downtown Manhattan. A few shows begat a weekly residency, which became a more-or-less permanent residency until Fez was shuttered, at which point Rivers, without skipping a beat, moved her gig a few blocks north to the Cutting Room–an even smaller venue. Unless she is out of town, Rivers performs there every Wednesday night. The shows cost $25 to attend, and her entire fee is donated to charity. The comic's Manhattan performances deviate from her road act, which is geared toward larger audiences and is thus more structured. "They're paying more, and it's a concert thing," Rivers says, "so I give them easier stuff. They don't have to decide, 'Can I laugh at this?’ Whereas at the Cutting Room, it's all about making decisions."