McGivern and Brandt share a comfortable home.

Rooms filled with collections of 1900s panoramic photos, stained glass and religious art are reminiscent of McGivern's Irish-Catholic upbringing. Brandt and McGivern.

March 8, 2006

 John McGivern is everywhere, it seems. He banters with Dave and Carole as a regular guest on the WKLH 96.5 morning show. He dishes about the local and national arts scene from behind the news desk at NBC TMJ4. He performs hilarious and deeply personal monologues before live audiences on downtown stages.

McGivern, 51, enjoys his popularity in Milwaukee. You might say he downright relishes the moments when fans drive past him, honk and yell his name.

But McGivern is equally amused upon realizing that his celebrity status doesn't span much beyond the Brew City's borders. "I go five miles past Waukesha and people are like, 'Who?'" he says, letting out a peal of laughter.

Truth be told, McGivern, who was born and raised on Milwaukee's east side, is as down-to-earth as they come. He's into entertaining, not playing the fame game. So it makes sense that, after flitting around the country (he spent eight years in Chicago and eight years in Los Angeles), he moved back to Milwaukee in 2001 to make a go of things here. And, working out of a tiny office in his home at The Knickerbocker on the Lake, he's finding more work than ever.

In addition to gigs on radio and television, he's the associate producer of the hit comedy show Shear Madness, which has played at the Marcus Center for the Performing Arts. He's done national television commercials for big names like Sears, corporate speaking engagements, and a huge spate of solo shows that he says are "more storytelling than stand-up comedy."

Needless to say, McGivern is used to multi-tasking. "I love it. And I'm good at it. [I use] the same skills it takes to be a really good waiter...the organization of keeping a lot of balls moving and running with them," says McGivern. Then he adds, in his usual humble fashion, "But I know I drop some balls. I really do."

 The ball dropping, he says, has been missed opportunities, mostly because he didn't respond to emails on time. He gets a lot of messages these days. So he's just hired an assistant - a friend who also serves as stage manager of his wildly popular annual Christmas show - to take care of some of his administrative tasks.

Despite his growth and success, McGivern doesn't plan to build the kind of entertainment empire that would force him to rent office space somewhere. He's quite content working from home in the Knickerbocker, which he calls "a quiet building where people have lived for ages."

McGivern's condo, which he shares with Steve Brandt, his partner of three years, is actually three units combined into one. The previous tenant rolled two studios and an efficiency into a singular labyrinth of long hallways and comfy sitting spaces.

The two living rooms are where McGivern and Brandt house their art collections. Brandt collects yard-longs, panoramic photographs from the early 1900s, while McGivern has amassed an impressive assortment of stained glass windows. Pieces from both collections hang in calculated symmetry on the walls.

McGivern's office, off the master bedroom, is a tranquil haven, of sorts. It's small, immaculately kept space in which late 1800s religious iconographic paintings of Mary and Jesus loom behind his desk. "I think they're beautiful. And they certainly mean something as to how I was raised, as well," says McGivern.

McGivern's referring to his Irish-Catholic heritage - a topic that frequently arises in his monologues. On stage, he talks about what it was like to grow up with three brothers, two sisters, and a mother who cared for him "but just couldn't cook...I didn't eat anything that wasn't boiled until I went away to boarding school at 13," he jokes.

What he speaks of a little less often, though he has touched on the subject while talking on WKLH, is a period in his past that was riddled with addiction. "I was a drunk and a cocaine addict," says McGivern. "And in 1989 my family came [to Chicago] and did an intervention. They rescued me. They said either you get sober and we'll help you, or we don't want to see you again. And, now, I've been sober for 16 years. Through sobriety I started writing and doing my own stuff. I was able to work. I look back at what I did before and it was horrible little theater. When I cleaned up, I found direction."

"But I still have issues of compulsion," he continues. "Once I do something, I'm in it...deep. But it's much healthier now." He pauses, then, true to form, goes for comedic gusto, adding, "At least I'm consistent!"

Through the years, McGivern has found inspiration in a variety of places - from the essays of David Sedaris to the songs of musicians Dar Williams and David Wilcox. But his own work, he says, isn't really comparable to theirs: "I'm much more sentimental. My heart is more visible...you don't have to dig real deep [to see who I am]."

From the looks of his fan base, people like what they see. That's especially true in Milwaukee. But more important than sold-out shows is the fact that audiences find his kind of humor comforting and, ultimately, easy to relate to.

Says McGivern, "My intention wasn't to go out there and find a voice that people are familiar with, but I've learned that my stories aren't so different from anybody else's. The streets and the names may be different, but the experiences...there's something really universal about them."