To call Mike Royko a legend in Chicago journalism is an understatement. When he died in 1997, at 64, he towered over all other columnists, locally — and nationally. Syndicated in more than 600 newspapers across the nation, he had millions of readers who loved him for his caustic wit and his heart; he always sided with the little guy.
My mother, for one, a Chicago expat living in St. Louis, never missed his column in her local daily (The Post Dispatch). She loved him because she made him laugh. And because, as a former Chicagoan, she loved how Chicago he was. Royko may have made it big, but never forgot his roots; he grew up in an apartment above a bar in Humboldt Park, the son of a Polish mother and a Ukrainian immigrant father.
Royko wrote a column a day, five days a week, for 30 years, first for the Chicago Daily News, then the Sun-Times and finally the Tribune. He had turned in more than 7,500 columns when he died in 1997. Studs Terkel said he was “possessed by a demon.”
Royko was possessed by something; that’s for sure.
‘Royko: The Toughest Man in Chicago’
At least that’s the way Mitchell Bisschop plays him in his entertaining but uneven one-man show, “Royko: The Toughest Man in Chicago,” written by Bisschop and directed by Chicago theater stalwart Steve Scott.
Bisschop may not be a household name, but he certainly deserves to be. He knows how to win over an audience, performing with confidence and power. Bisschop currently lives in Los Angeles, where he is a writer and actor, but he cut his teeth in Chicago’s theater scene, both in the improv comedy world (Second City, The Annoyance) and in local productions like the 2001 remount of Northlight’s production of “Over the Tavern” at the Mercury Theatre. You may also have seen him recently in an ad for the project management software ClickUp currently getting lots of play on YouTube; he plays a buffoonish representative of ClickUp’s rival, Jira.
The Chicago production, which opened last week at the Chopin Theatre, follows performances at the Hollywood Fringe Fest in July, where it won the Hollywood Encore Producers’ Award.
There is a lot to like in “Royko,” but also parts that need trimming and refocusing. The first act of the show, focusing on the early days of Royko’s career and his glory days at the Daily News and The Sun-Times, is the better half of the show.
Bisschop comes out guns blazing. Wearing Royko’s trademark simple suit and tie, and black-framed glasses, Bisschop is the spitting image of the hard-nosed newsman. And when he begins to speak, he embodies the man’s heart and soul — every gesture, every pause, every grumbled punchline is pure Royko.
The show bristles with Royko’s fabulous one-liners. Example: “A pessimist sees the glass as half empty; A Cub fan wonders when it’s gonna spill.”
Royko was also a great storyteller. Bisschop takes full advantage of this. He fills his show with selections from Royko’s best writing, and brings Royko’s words to life as only a true fan can.
Early in the show, for example, Bisschop skillfully uses Royko’s writings to recount the time Royko ruffled Frank Sinatra’s feathers, criticizing the Chicago Police Department for providing “Ol’ Blue Eyes” free round-the-clock security while he was in town. Sinatra responded by calling him a “pimp” and threatening to punch him in the mouth.
Watching the flawless way Bisschop performs this story is to see Royko back again among us, earning big laughs by tweaking the noses of the powerful and well-connected.
Some of the best material in the first act comes from Royko’s book about Mayor Richard J. Daley, “Boss.” Bisschop, the writer, is at his best here. His performance shows Royko at his most compelling and serious. It also reveals what a masterwork the 1971 biography truly is.
The show is not perfect. The second act, covering Royko in the 80s and 90s, is less fiery, less focused, less funny, than the first, but then so was Royko. Royko was still worth reading, to be sure, but his writings at the Trib just didn’t have the edge of his early works.
Maybe it was his age. Maybe it was the fact that there was less to push back against after Daley was gone and the Machine less powerful. Or perhaps Bisschop’s script does Royko a disservice by sampling Royko’s weaker writings from the Trib era. There is no mention in the second act of Mayor Harold Washington or of Daley’s son, Richard M. Daley. But Bisschop still finds space for Royko’s complaints about Yuppies jogging in Lincoln Park. And Royko’s Ribfests.
Bisschop’s Royko remains a phenom to the end. And Bisschop’s solo show is a worthy celebration of a great writer.
