Town without pity
Wigfield unleashes a village of the dammed.

By Johnny Ray Huston


RETINAL CANCER PATIENTS might remember casting an eye or two upon Jerri Blank, the bisexual 46-year-old "user, boozer, and loser" high school student at the center of the recent Comedy Central sitcom Strangers with Candy. Few people are as loveably scary as Jerri. Those few people are the citizens of Wigfield, a town portrayed in the new illustrated book Wigfield: The Can-Do Town That Just May Not (Hyperion).

What, exactly, is Wigfield like? It's a humble hamlet where serial killers outnumber survivors, where strip clubs rub up against used-tire stores, and where the only bookstores are pornographic. "It's the kind of place that if a person were in a car not paying attention he'd probably pass through never realizing what he'd missed," Russell Hokes writes. "Or if a person were driving through and paying attention he might drive faster hoping to ignore what he had just seen."

I quote so liberally from Hokes – the journalist who claims to have authored much of Wigfield – because I've learned one of his most valuable lessons, demonstrated time and again in the book: if you reprint passages from other people's writing and quote interview subjects verbatim, you'll reach your word count much quicker. To fulfill the interview portion of my arduous task, I called up Strangers with Candy's Paul Dinello and Amy Sedaris. Rumor has it they (along with frequent collaborator Stephen Colbert) might have something to do with Wigfield the town, Wigfield the book, and Wigfield the upcoming page-to-stage show.

Bay Guardian: Wigfield author Russell Hokes seems ambitious about fame, if not writing. How does he feel about the fact that his book now has your names on it?

Amy Sedaris: He tries to take control of the stage version of Wigfield. There's a projection behind us that says "Wigfield by Russell Hokes," so the asshole is getting some credit.

BG: Who would Hokes list as his greatest literary influences?

Paul Dinello: Hemingway, certainly. Not because of the writing – because of the lifestyle.

BG: Among Wigfield's community of strippers, I noticed that Raven has the hairiest arms. Do you know why?

PD: I wouldn't be surprised if it has something to do with the water. There's a lot of stuff floating around: Wigfield is close to the plutonium ditch and lead-dispersal plant. I guess there's a rumor that Raven isn't actually a woman. But no one wants to believe that, because she is the most attractive person in town.

BG: Unlike Wigfield, San Francisco doesn't have three mayors. But it does have more than three people running for mayor. In fact, a few have been running for mayor for so long that they've been swallowed up George Jetson-style by the mayoral treadmill. If Wigfield could loan one of its mayors to S.F., which one do you think would fit the city best?

PD: They each have their minor strengths and incredible weaknesses. Charles Halstead is good-hearted and easily manipulated. I think he'd be the least detrimental. At least he's controllable – if you have sweets within arm's reach.

BG: Does Mayor Halstead have a favorite brand of fudge or chocolate bar?

AS: I think he'll eat anything that's brown. It's his favorite color.

BG: While you were creating Wigfield, did the townsfolk begin to invade your dreams at night?

PD: For me, a couple of them crept in occasionally. I gotta say that Mae Ella Padgett is pretty scary. She's the most feisty of the group. She lies the best. You'd never see her coming – she's like a coiled snake. She's tiny, but you don't want to underestimate her. She has the appearance of a raisin, but she's got the bite of a cobra. And she's war-weary.

BG: Amy, how do Paul and Stephen differ from your brother David as collaborators? Do you have to discipline each other differently?

AS: With David, it's just the two of us; Steve and Paul are more like the guys who chop the wood, and later I'm allowed to come in and decorate.

PD: Steve and I have to ride Amy roughshod. It's like working with a monkey. She has the attention span of a flea. If fleas have a short attention span – I'd assume they do. Who knows, they probably have a great attention span.

BG: What's the funniest tragic event you've noticed in the news lately?

PD: SARS was a hoot. I have this great photo from China of some girls doing a ballet; they're wearing matching pink tutus and matching blue surgical masks. They look like they're performing in Wigfield. Tragedy is never funny, but the aftermath often is – how people react and how they try to take advantage of it. There's a World Trade Center lawsuit in which a guy is trying to claim that the attack was actually two separate incidents, so he can double up his insurance money.

BG: Amy, what's the prize facial or torso disfigurement among the ones you've collected in your prop bag?

AS: It's funny, as we're talking right now, I'm doing a photo shoot for a jewelry ad, and I'm in a lily dress; it's green with pink bamboo trees on it. I have a wig that's so stylized, blowing off one side of my head. I'm really tanned, and I have makeup on like Angie Dickinson. I love disguise kits; I need that one thing to hide behind. Some people might think of that as a weakness, but that doesn't bother me.

BG: You seem to have an Angie Dickinson fixation.

AS: I'd love to redo Police Woman.

BG: I saw an amazing Lifetime movie starring her recently. It's called Deep Family Secrets. She's this boozy matriarch of a Southern family who loses her mind and goes missing for days at a time. How are things progressing with the movie version of Strangers with Candy?

PD: We're still at the outlining stage, trying to figure out how much of Jerri's past to include.

BG: Her past could swallow the movie whole, I would think.

PD: I know, it's unbelievable. We could serialize the movie because one year of her life is like 20 years of someone else's. Someone asked Jerri where she was when Kennedy got shot, and she said, "I was hauling my ass out of Dallas." She's happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time throughout history.

BG: I missed one of Amy's recent appearances on Conan O'Brien, so I have to ask: what does Dick Clark look like when he's really scared?

AS: He looks like a currant. You can tell that inside he's not what he looks like outside. But I give him credit; he's doing the upkeep. It was funny to meet him – he was horrified, petrified. I didn't know he was going to be on the show until I was getting ready backstage and I heard him say, "Rockin' New Year's Eve!" Once I heard it, I couldn't get it out of my head, so I kept saying it to him.

BG: Are there any things you're looking forward to doing in S.F.?

PD: The last time I was in S.F. was about two days after the earthquake hit [in 1989], so the city was a little devastated, and we were doing a comedy act. I did wander around Chinatown, and people seemed relatively unscathed – relatively unaware.

BG: Amy, will you be selling cupcakes and cheese balls in the lobby at your S.F. performances?

AS: I'm afraid I can't because I don't travel with my mixer. In New York I do, though. I'm obsessed with making them. Obsessed. Whenever I'm done making some, I think, "OK, you can make 24 more." I love selling them because I love counting money after a show: "67, 68, 69 – get out, you guys!" I love that I have money to count and the audience doesn't.

'Wigfield' plays Wed/30-Thurs/31, 8 p.m., Post Street Theatre, 450 Post, S.F. $35. (415) 321-2900.


July 30, 2003