Pete Holmes had barely gotten started Wednesday night before he confronted one of the areas’ great geographical questions: Are we in Fresno or Clovis?

He knew enough about the area to understand that we were somewhere near Willow Avenue, close enough to the border that the distinction could become complicated, so Holmes came up with his own solution and spent much of the night referring to us as “FresClovis.”

Later, there was a joke about “Big Raisin,” inspired by Sun-Maid, followed by Holmes impersonating what he imagined was an irritated local response: “NO, THAT’S SELMA.” (It is Kingsburg, but close enough.)

It was a small thing, but it felt less like a comedian dropping a researched local reference and more like someone who had actually spent time here. Holmes’ in-laws formerly lived in Fresno, and his past visits took him through both Fresno and Clovis, so the “FresClovis” bit had the familiarity of someone who understood exactly why the distinction was funny.

More importantly, as the night went on, it became clear Holmes was paying just as much attention to the people in the room as he was to the place itself.

Watching a Comedian Figure Out Fresno

I have been a Pete Holmes fan for years, so there was already something satisfying about watching someone I had spent so much time seeing on a screen perform in Fresno, particularly just days after I had the opportunity to interview him.

What I enjoyed even more was watching him figure out the crowd in real time.

When I spoke with Holmes before his San Joaquin Valley Town Hall appearance at the Shaghoian Memorial Concert Hall in northeast Fresno, he talked about wanting the audience involved and described comedy as something created between the performer and the people in the room.

Wednesday night showed exactly what he meant.

This was, to put it delicately, an older crowd than the one Holmes would generally encounter during a typical weekend at a comedy club, and you could almost see him working through that difference onstage.

He would try something, listen to the response, adjust, and follow whichever direction seemed to be producing the most energy.

Instead of making the show feel uncertain, it made it feel alive.

Holmes was not simply delivering a rehearsed hour to a room full of strangers. He was learning the room and letting the audience help determine where the night would go.

Funny enough, one of the clearest examples came near the end during a Q&A, when Holmes returned to jokes from much earlier in his career. Those jokes, perhaps more traditional than some of the material he had been experimenting with throughout the night, got the entire room chuckling.

The crowd had told him what it wanted, and Holmes had figured out how to meet it there.

There Is a Science to Being Funny

During that Q&A, a teacher asked Holmes whether he had been the class clown growing up.

Holmes said he had not and explained that comedians are not necessarily the kids trying to make everybody laugh in class. Often, they are the ones studying the comedy of the class clown, thinking about why a joke works, how it should be delivered, and what makes one version of a story funnier than another.

By that point, he hardly needed to explain it because we had just spent the evening watching him demonstrate it.

That ability to adjust without making the adjustment obvious may have been the most impressive part of his performance.

Holmes remained the same person I had interviewed: warm, thoughtful, a little strange, and seemingly incapable of discussing anything for too long without eventually finding something funny inside it.

From Getting Hit to Getting Philosophical

Holmes’ comedy is built largely around storytelling, which gives him room to start somewhere ridiculous and wander into something considerably deeper.

One story began with Holmes pushing his daughter, who turns 8 this month, on a swing when a little boy punched him in the groin. Later, that same boy walked in front of Holmes’ daughter while she was swinging and got hit.

Holmes talked about how, removed from the language of a comedy routine, that sounds like a fairly terrible series of events. Yet there was also something instantly recognizable about it, because children have always occupied this strange world where somebody can be crying one minute and running around together the next. And, he felt like he got his revenge for the punch.

That story led naturally into Holmes talking about fatherhood and realizing that some of the things his children now do to him are probably versions of what he once did to his own mother.

From there, the show could drift into religion, history, or simulation theory, which Holmes jokingly connected to Christianity and the way old human questions are continually repackaged for whatever cultural moment we happen to be living through.

It is an unusual combination, but it works because Holmes never seems particularly interested in separating the silly from the serious.

The Interview Came Alive

There was also a slightly selfish pleasure in watching the show as a reporter.

Before Holmes came to Fresno, I had spent our interview asking him about Christianity, fatherhood, family, connection, and the relationship between a comedian and an audience. Sitting there Wednesday night, I realized almost every one of those themes was showing up naturally onstage.

There is always a little uncertainty after an interview about whether you found the right threads or simply convinced yourself they were important because they made for a good story.

Watching Holmes perform, I felt pretty good about the threads I had pulled.

What surprised me most was not that Holmes was funny. I expected that. It was watching an older Town Hall crowd, one that did not necessarily resemble the audience I associate with his comedy, slowly settle into his wavelength as he simultaneously adjusted himself to theirs.

That is probably the best argument for seeing Pete Holmes live.

You may walk in expecting a certain show based on his specials, podcasts, or television appearances, but the version you get depends, at least partly, on who showed up that night.

Holmes may arrive with the material, but the crowd helps choose the path.

And Wednesday night, FresClovis chose pretty well.

How to Get Tickets to Future SJV Town Hall Events

Tickets are available on the SJV Town Hall’s website.

About the Author

Anthony W. Haddad is a Fresno-based reporter and columnist known for the award-winning Millennial View column series and Local Side Quests, which explores overlooked events, businesses, and experiences across the Fresno area. His work covers a wide range of topics, from pressing local issues and community concerns to the everyday challenges, culture, and experiences shaping life in the Central Valley.

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