No joke at the comedy club, where little things became big things

In April, days after comic Louis C.K. helped Peoria’s Jukebox Comedy Club have one of its best nights ever, the roof fell in.

Literally.

The club’s main room is untouched and safe, but after an old, 25-foot barrel roof collapsed the space next door is a mess.

Jukebox owner Dan Conlin’s business has gotten messy, too – separate from cleanup work not covered by his property insurance. The 63-year-old  owner of Jukebox for 25 years says he’s had to operate month-to-month, mouth-to-mouth since the COVID pandemic.

Maybe this litany of lousy incidents dulls the humor. Still, sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying. Dan’s trying.

Inside the hidden gem across Farmington Road from the Peoria Speedway – where Jukebox has brought to town Bobcat Goldthwait, John Mulaney, Theo Von, Janelle James (principal Ava Coleman from ABC’s “Abbott Elementary”) and many others, professional and amateur – Conlin sips from a 2-liter soda and outlines his situation after an extended hiatus.

“Small things become big things,” he says, taking a deep breath.

Dan doesn’t say he’s like the Bible’s Job or anything; no boils or all of that suffering. But his woes challenge him.

* First, like many, the one-time radio host on Rock 106 saw the Jukebox rocked by COVID.

“It’s a blur, 2020-21,” he says. “I voluntarily closed when it was recommended. I was skeptical, then I saw people I knew die and realized it was super-serious. It hurt me like crazy to shut down.

“It wasn’t political,” he continues. “But I never understood why some people wouldn’t even wear masks – ‘Oh, I’ll be OK’ – when it’s transmissible. You can infect others! Don’t they count? Some people thought they knew better. [I thought,] who am I to argue with scientists?

“I decided to have an abundance of caution,” he adds. “I couldn’t ask my staff to come in, [and] I thought of strangers getting infected. Here, there’s a low ceiling, people are talking and laughing and it’s an airborne virus. That’s not safe.”

A limited “all clear” signal from public health officials permitting restaurants and bars to operate with limited capacity for social distancing, but that was interrupted by a new variant and spiking cases.

“We all were asked to close again,” he says and stops.

Dan says he has few regrets about the last five years, but some disappointment.

“Some taverns didn’t close or limit customers,” he said. “Parking lots were full, people spilled out their front doors. In all, I had no revenue for 11 months.”

* Next, like some, he’s borne accidents. He used his phone instead of a computer to apply for a Small Business Administration “Shuttered Venue Operators Grant,” part of COVID relief packages. By the time he talked to the SBA, which had no record of his application, the money was gone. Then, after hours one rainy night in 2023, he climbed up his extension ladder to check on the roof tarp but fell and seriously injured himself.

“I stopped going up to check on the roof tarp.”

* Also, like a few, he feels let down by businesses he thought were on his side. Dan says an insurer (with whom he’d never had a claim) canceled a policy without notifying him, delaying his liquor-license renewal while he pays more for a different company’s policy.

Also, needing some financing, he took his good credit and a home almost paid off to a local bank where he’s had an account for decades, and was rejected with little explanation.

“I may go to some lender who charges higher interest,” he says, “and probably have to promise my first-born, which means I’ll have to have a kid and that means having sex again.”

Such business problems are no laughing matter. But pile on additional calamities like bills for engineers inspecting the east side of the building, an unexpected water bill for 10 times his typical usage, and a gravely ill cat (Max) weeks after the death of another cat (Shirley), and Dan feels beat up.

“I stopped booking [acts] for weeks until recently,” he says. “I didn’t know if I’d be open past Labor Day [and] I didn’t want someone to book travel and a hotel and me forced to cancel. I didn’t want to go out that way.”

Conlin’s not at his wit’s end, but some worry it’s in the distance.

Being passionate (or compassionate) about comedy and comics, customers and the community has helped keep him going, he says.

“There’s a brilliance with stand-up comedy – especially in a club where it’s live and up close,” he says, his eyes widening, a smile growing. “There’s something great about the interactive experience, something you don’t feel on Netflix or a big auditorium.”

Dan says he’s looking to stabilize things and maybe add gaming as a supplementary revenue source, and until his liquor license is renewed, the Jukebox will have comedy and a slimmed-down menu with soft drinks and milkshakes.

“It’d qualify for an AA meeting!” he says, pausing. “Somehow, I’m still here.”