She got here in June 1975 and three weeks later, on a Sunday night, Pat knew she was home. That night she walked into the Holy City Zoo and did her first five minute standup act, met Tony DePaul in his first night as emcee-producer of Zoo comedy, and ran into comedy writer John Cantu: “it was lost at first sight,” says Pat, and a year and a half later they were married. Pat played the Zoo every week for months, most of the time the only woman on the Bill. DePaul, who often draws feminist’ hisses in his own act, treated Pat with no bias, she says, giving encouragement and typical newcomer treatment; a lot of opening and closing spots. “I’ve never made Tony laugh, but he does have an eye for business. Now that I’m producing shows it’s strange to be booking him.”

The other comics treated Pat as a social object, not taking her performing seriously. They didn’t include her in business – talk or respond to her sets with either encouragement or suggestions. “They seem to see me as a woman, not as a person or a comedian. If the line went well they always asked if John wrote it, which he didn’t.” But sexism is not a charge Pat makes easily. She figures it was just shyness, or “maybe part of it was me. Maybe I didn’t come across as a ‘serious performer.”

Has Women’s Lib played a role in Pats life? “The women’s movement has very little meaning to me because I haven’t experienced any direct violation of what I want to be because I’m a woman. Throughout my teens I wasn’t treated as a sex object. I would like to have been, but I was overweight in those days and in my mind no man could be interested in me. My bad self image caused a lot of pain, but keeping away from men was good because I wouldn’t have been able to handle them at all. I didn’t know what I was doing, even when I started doing it.” 

The opportunity to produce comedy showcases came looking for Pat when John Walsh left the Mustard Seed last year (1976) to go to Los Angeles. She and Joy Androgyny took over and turned it into the Saturday night place for comedy in the Bay Area. From there Pat went out on her own and produced a successful show at Mabuhay Gardens, a Broadway night club, in February. Five comedians got good experience working a classier kind of room and came away each with $13.50, not much but $10 to $13.50 more than usual. “I learned a lot from that show. At this point everything has to be done my way; I don’t compromise real easily. I’m not impulsive but I am easily influenced, which I’m getting better at guarding against. Publicity, booking, posters, flyers, press releases, pushing tickets – I love doing all that, and when the show is going on I don’t worry; I have a lot of confidence in the comics that I pick.” 

In October 1976 Pat Daniels and John Cantu conceived a bi-weekly joke service, …comedy/update…, and the patter of little one-liners can be heard around their North Beach home. [Full Article]

Sharing Loads of Laughs 

September 25, 1978 • SF Examiner • Bea Pixa

John Cantu and Patricia Daniels are a lively young married couple who work together. Share a lot of laughs — and are getting a divorce. As husband and wife, they found their union wasn’t working. As business partners, it was. “I don’t think either one of us really wanted to be married,” observes Daniels a 27-year-old with widely-spaced Jackie Kennedy-type eyes.

They are partners in an enterprise called CanDan Productions which publishes two comedy services. “Comedy Update” and “Cheap Laughs.” the former is designed for professional comedians who gobble up funny material faster than a government paper shredding machine; the latter, an abbreviated version with different material, is designed for people who don’t need to have so many laughs at their disposal – such as salesman who want to loosen up customers or public speakers who need a few good lines to relax and audience. 

Daniels one of two children from a middle-class Catholic family, found early signs of her comedic awareness in parochial school. “There were things that were really strange – like people having to look at a picture of Christ on a cross, and swearing that they really lost their homework. I remember thinking ‘Oh God. This really is crazy.’ Things like that made me see the funny side of things.” 

Both Cantu and Daniels agree that comedy is a male-dominated field, where aggressiveness counts for laughs as well as success, and good looks become a drawback that must be overcome. “A lot of humor,” says Daniels, “is very self-deprecating,” which she suggests may account for the shortage of women. “Joan Rivers goes on about her facelift and how she can’t cook, and she gets applause for it. But look at what she’s doing to herself as a person. And Phyllis Diller has to make herself look ugly with all that hair and those rhinestones to do her jokes.” 

In social situations, she also finds that a woman with a strong sense of humor is at a disadvantage. “A man who is not a comedian is almost in awe of a woman who’s in comedy. They like to see women with a strong sense of humor – as long as they have one that’s a little stronger.” 

Cantu and Daniels meet at their weekly get togethers, to sift through the jokes they’ve collected, the ambience is likely to be as serious as a board meeting of General Motors. “We don’t do all that much laughing,” says Cantu “but it’s nice when it happens.” [Full Article]