Ventriloquism gaining popularity as show biz career

The scene: a stage in an American Legion post in southeastern Minnesota. The players: longtime comic duo David Malmberg and Simon Spencer.

Malmberg and Spencer have been working together for decades. Their material has been honed by thousands of performances. Their comic timing is sharp, as if the partners can read each other’s minds.

Well, they could if Spencer’s head weren’t made of wood.

“I’m a ventriloquist,” Malmberg, the brains of the outfit, explains to the audience.

“You’re a hypnotist,” replies Spencer.

“No, I’m a ventriloquist. Hypnotists put people to sleep,” says Malmberg.

“What do you think you’re doing?” says Spencer.

This is how Malmberg makes a living.

For the past 26 years, he’s been one of only a few dozen people in the country working as a full-time ventriloquist. Malmberg makes his home in St. Paul, but he often lives out of a suitcase, working up to 100 gigs a year from the Dakotas to the Wisconsin Dells. Spencer, who’s close to 60, lives in the suitcase.

It seems like an old-fashioned way to earn a paycheck because it is. Ventriloquism was a staple of 19th century English music halls and early-20th century American vaudeville shows.

Malmberg, 70, grew up up in the golden age of ventriloquism, when stars like Edgar Bergen, Shari Lewis and Senor Wences were household names. But Malmberg’s budding career in showbiz was interrupted by the Vietnam War.

He got drafted and was about to be shipped off to serve on a minesweeper when a chief petty officer heard him doing a ventriloquism bit.

That was enough to convince the Navy that Malmberg’s talents could better be used entertaining the troops.

After he got out of the service, he returned to Minnesota and stayed in radio. While he was successful, he missed performing. He decided to give that ventriloquism thing a try again.

Over the years, Malmberg crafted a career by landing variety show gigs at places like the HesperMabel Steam Engine Days and the Kellogg Watermelon Festival.

A funny thing happened while Malmberg was entertaining at small-town fairs and fundraisers: Ventriloquism became popular again.

Don’t believe it? Witness the rise of ventriloquist superstar Jeff Dunham, who now packs arenas and stars on Comedy Central shows. Three out of the 14 winners of “America’s Got Talent” show have been ventriloquists, including 2007 winner Terry Fator, whom Forbes ranked as the eighth-highest-paid comedian in 2019, with an estimated $17 million in earnings. (Dunham was in ninth place with $15 million.)

“It’s hugely popular,” Malmberg said. “We’re in the midst of a renaissance right now.”

“I’m creating a character and I myself am a character,” Malmberg said. “Our job is to make people laugh.”

He’s well aware that he’s in the service industry — the entertainment hired to boost company morale at $1,500 to $3,500 per show. But he’s also trying to keep alive what he describes as an ancient and noble folk art.

“As long as the phone keeps ringing, I’m going to keep doing it,” he said.

Malmberg: “One of these days, my name’s going to be in lights.”

Spencer: “What are you going to do? Change your name to Exit?”