May 21, 2008
Pimp My Puppet: Terry Fator, the Mirage’s new $100 million man,
must market himself to be successful
By STEVE FRIESS
The news that the impressionist-ventriloquist-puppeteer Terry
Fator would be taking over the showroom at the Mirage after
Danny Gans crosses the street to bore Steve Wynn’s customers
at Encore with a 20-year-old act came as something of a shock.
And, after some careful consideration, I’ve decided it’s shocking
in a good way. It was a close call.
In one rather sudden move, Fator became probably the most
successful reality-TV contestant ever, Kelly Clarkson, Clay
Aiken and Carrie Underwood of American Idol included. If the
figures reported by Robin Leach and Norm Clarke are to be believed,
he’s about to earn $100 million for five years’ work at the
Mirage, a gargantuan sum for a guy who was nearly laughed out
the door at America’s Got Talent by judges David Hasselhoff
and Sharon Osbourne. A little more than a year ago, goes the
story that will be in every single profile you’ll ever read
about Fator, he was ready to give up on his entertainment career
altogether when he found himself playing to a virtually empty
hall.
What’s so surprising is not that MGM Mirage thought he’d make
an interesting choice for the room soon to be formerly known
as the Danny Gans Theater. It’s that they decided to risk that
much money and that long a commitment on someone who has not
yet proved to have staying power.
In other words, the company that is constantly being beaten
up on for playing it safe with as many Cirque du Soleil productions
as it can possibly house has taken a genuine, if calculated,
risk. That, in and of itself, is awfully refreshing.
Still, I’m hoping that Fator doesn’t think he can just coast
now, knowing he is now part of a formidable marketing machine
with cross-marketing tentacles reaching into tens of thousands
of hotel rooms. If he does that, he will someday end up with
such embarrassing headlines as the one in July 2002 regarding
Gans in the Los Angeles Times that asked, “Las Vegas Loves Who?”
Yes, Terry, if you’re reading, I have a few suggestions for
how you might avoid becoming the next Danny Gans. That is, how
you might avoid a stagnant but lucrative career to go along
with a public reputation for being difficult.
• Define yourself. You’re a terrific performer, but one who
is difficult to explain in just a few words. The few words that
do come to mind are fraught with negative, childish or vaudevillian
connotations, particularly the part with the puppets and the
ventriloquism. One of my podcaster colleagues, Tim Dressen of
Five Hundy By Midnight, inadvertently proved this point by dismissively
describing your act using some of those words. He’s not incorrect,
but there’s got to be a better way to explain it.
Of course, there is an upside to this problem: If people leave
having a hard time articulating what they just saw, they may
just say, “I can’t describe it, but you just have to go see
it.” That could happen. But it’s a risk, and word-of-mouth is
not known to travel well in a city with this much constant turnover
and a show-goer base utterly immune to local media influence.
• Pimp yourself. All of this is why you must be indefatigable
at getting yourself out there in as many media as possible as
often as possible. Your appearance on The Late Show With David
Letterman was a great first move after your big Mirage announcement.
Now do it as often as you’re invited. Get an agent who can land
you voice parts in Pixar flicks and on The Simpsons, too. Pimp
the puppet turtle and the other characters, too; consider getting
an animated show or weekly Sunday print cartoon similar to that
of Mac King. Create only-for-web content. Do charity benefits,
lots of them. Become a part of the Vegas scene. If ever there’s
a chance for a sitcom, figure out a way to make it happen. Do
anything and everything to make sure that your fame doesn’t
stop on the tarmac at McCarran.
• Keep it new. Yes, you got this far on some tried-and-true
bits. They’re great. But please, please, please, keep shaking
it up. That Gans is still doing George Burns, Jeff Foxworthy
and Bill Clinton bits at this stage is one of the reasons he’s
become a joke. It reflects a laziness and arrogance that no
performer expecting people to spend $100+ a seat should ever
possess.
I’m rooting for Fator. I’m a sucker for an overnight-success-15-years-in-the-making
tale, I also think his act is ingenious and truly original.
He seems humble when appropriate and self-confident when necessary.
He is, in so many ways, the embodiment of that only-in-America
story of what happens when persistence, creativity and luck
align.
A few months ago, after his deal for 2008 at the Las Vegas
Hilton was announced with the surprise disclosure of his salary—$100,000
a show for 15 shows—we had Fator on our Internet radio program
and podcast, The Strip.
Egged on by folks in our chat room listening to the live recording,
I asked the burning but impertinent question: “Do you really
think you’re worth $100,000 a show?”
Fator didn’t blink.
“Absolutely. I think I’m worth more than $100,000 a show.
… Somebody told me that Larry the Cable Guy is making $150,000
or $200,000 a show. I figure I’m worth that at least.”
What’s telling about this exchange is that, at $20 million
a year for 240 show dates at the Mirage, Fator’s actually taking
a pay cut to $83,333 an appearance.
Why would someone who thinks he’s worth so much more settle
for so much less? Job security, obviously. But also because
Fator clearly has put a premium on the honor of Vegas glory.
That’s a really good sign. And, in this day and age, shocking,
too. In a good way.
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