More than half his life has been devoted to stand-up comedy, but long before the stage lights and sold-out crowds, William Lee Martin once imagined a different calling. The 60-year-old native Texan considered becoming a preacher and even pursued music in college as a drummer. That musical thread still weaves its way through his performances. If you were fortunate enough to arrive early to his February 28 show at the Millwald Theatre, you were treated to an array of country songs — all personally composed and performed by Martin himself.
This was not his first visit to the Millwald. He has played the historic downtown venue at least once before and assured the audience he plans to return — hopefully next April.
“I love to drive around Wytheville and see all the antique shops,” he opened. “You all need to throw some of that stuff away.”
He joked that he plays a game while driving through town, trying to determine what’s a garage sale and what’s a hoarder’s collection.
Martin then introduced his friend and fellow comedian, Ohio native Sid Davis, who now lives in Charlotte, North Carolina. Davis delivered a tight 10-minute opening set that included memories of serving as an opening act for Joan Rivers until her passing.
“I knew I had made it in the business,” Davis said, “when I came off stage and Joan Rivers said to me three words: ‘You got it.’ No one in my life has ever said those three words to me — except that doctor at the free clinic in college.”
Davis also mined laughs from his frugality, including a story about sneaking a jar of peanuts into a New York Yankees game by hiding it in his trousers. When a security guard questioned the suspicious bulge, Davis replied, “It’s my colostomy bag.” The guard promptly waved him through.
As part of his Seemed Smart at the Time tour, Martin cataloged a series of life decisions that, in hindsight, may not have been his best — including his first two marriages.
“My first wife and I are good friends now,” he said. “I call her the previous administration.”
His second wife, a redhead, earned the nickname “the sequel.” “And not a Godfather sequel,” he clarified. “More like the Caddyshack sequel.”
When a few men in the audience groaned knowingly at the redhead joke, Martin added, “I see a few other men in the audience have also had their tires cut.”
Though happily married to his current wife of 13 years, he didn’t shy away from playful commentary.
“I like to go out to country bars and dance,” he explained. “I asked God for a third wife who could dance. I clearly forgot to add the word ‘well’ to the end of that prayer.”
Having studied percussion in college, Martin confessed he cannot understand how anyone struggles with a simple two-step rhythm. The only way his current wife can manage it, he joked, is after a couple glasses of wine.
“I know when she’s feeling good because her hands start to raise toward her head,” he said. “If her hands get above her head, I’m going to be holding her hair for the rest of the night.”
Beneath the punchlines, however, ran a deeper current. Martin spoke candidly about reconciling with his father on his deathbed.
“I just wanted you to know I’m sorry for the things I said to you when I was 15,” Martin recalled telling him.
“I just want you to know that everything I said to you when you were 15, I meant,” his father replied.
“At that moment,” Martin quipped, “I pulled the plug.”
Throughout the 88-minute performance, Martin blended humor with heartfelt reflection, often leaning into a gentle evangelism that challenged the audience to consider the weight of their own lives. Having recently lost his father, he shared the experience of writing his father’s obituary and encouraged others to try writing their own.
“This is where you really understand the weight of your life,” he said. “You start to list your accomplishments. The more commas you put into your list of achievements, the more fulfilled you realize your life is.”
After the show, when I briefly met him, he signed a poster for me with two simple words: “All commas.”
I took that message to heart and intend to continue living fully, as he seems to have done. Of all the gifts a person can offer during one brief lifetime, few are more valuable than laughter — and William Lee Martin has provided it in abundance.
