It was just a half-hour before the opening of the sold-out show, and the normally close-knit band had completely fallen apart. The lead guitarist had shut herself in a dressing room and refused to come out. The pianist — in an apparent attempt to self soothe — groomed her hair obsessively. Meanwhile, the drummer had bolted off stage and hidden under the bleachers, where she ignored the pleas of two fawning assistants.Such temperamental, pre-show meltdowns have become typical of the Rock Cats, a trio that — even their manager admits — is known more for their looks than their rock ‘n’ roll talent.
“Their music sucks. I mean, when they’re playing, they’re not even playing the same song,” said Samantha Martin, the band’s manager, who stood at the edge of the stage wearing a black velvet body suit and a headband topped with felt cat ears. “I don’t think they realize they’re supposed to play together.”
Yet fans are flocking to see the band. T-shirts and buttons are flying off the shelves. Tickets to shows at the Gorilla Tango Theatre have become among the hottest in town.
And once again, Martin had found herself at the mercy of the increasingly high-strung, unpredictable performers: namely 13 cats — mostly orphans and strays — who walk the high wire, roll the barrel, ride a skateboard, leap to platforms and, of course, play miniature musical instruments.
“I know they all huddle before shows and draw straws to be like, ‘Who is going to screw her over today?'” said Martin, 44, laughing in the face of a feline walkout. “This is why you don’t see trained cat acts. Because people – – namely, the managers — can’t take the humiliation.”
Performers these days.
Martin never knows when one of her stars will not be in the mood. She keeps two backup drummers (Waldo, a short-haired tabby, and Fiji, a long-haired Himalayan) at the ready, just in case. Often, mid-performance, a cat will walk to center stage but instead of doing the long-practiced trick, the cat will streeeeetch, lick her paws and stare absently at the audience. Martin is left with nothing to do but smile, throw up her arms showgirl-style and — ignoring the goof — triumphantly declare “ta-da!”
Amazingly, the audience loves every minute. They cheer and applaud whether the cats jump through hoops or not. Lynn Casey, 51, of Bucktown, owner of two cats (Curley and Leo), came to see the show because, she said, “I can’t get my cats to do anything.”
Surveying the audience on a recent night, the fan base seemed surprisingly diverse. “Sure, you’ll see the crazy cat woman. The 60-year-old lady with the hair that is not quite done and the crazy fuzzy sweater with cat hair all over it — I’m probably headed there myself,” said Kelly Williams, Gorilla Tango’s publicity coordinator. “But we also get a lot of couples, a lot of families, and a lot of twentysomethings. We had a 7:30 p.m. show Friday; it was all adults with glasses of wine in hand.”
More sexy cat woman than frumpy cat lady, Martin adjusts the tone of the show to the audience, peppering her act with witty banter to cover for the moments when the cats decide they would rather preen than perform.
Martin’s earlier gig had been managing a troupe of rats. (You might remember her as Chicago’s own Rat Lady, whose domesticated rodents jumped through hoops, played basketball and answered a telephone — achievements that landed Martin on “The Tonight Show With Jay Leno.”)
Eventually, Martin found that the rats lacked marketability. She expanded into exotics and ran the business out of her apartment, moving often because her landlords would figure out what she was up to. She founded an animal talent agency, which she still runs today, supplying dogs, cats and other animals for television (Comedy Central, History Channel and “ER”) and advertisements (Wal-Mart, Sam’s Club and PetSmart).
Then, around 2004, “it dawned on me,” said Martin, who holds a degree in animal behavior. “There’s so many cat lovers out there. And then I’m thinking that you don’t see any trained cat shows.”
Despite an inauspicious start — she was literally “herding cats” — Martin found herself playing to a packed house every week. The cats’ fame grew, Martin bought a used RV — tricked out with cages and a play area — and the band hit the road, crisscrossing the country for shows in Missouri, Wisconsin and Florida. Last summer, the cats landed a sponsorship deal with Evanger’s Dog and Cat Food Co., further fueling dreams of hitting it big.
“If the right person sees the cat band,” said Martin, “these cats could be like the next Taco Bell dog.”
Martin remains single, quipping that “you can only hide this many cats for so long.” She shares her modest, two-story home in Chicago’s Avondale neighborhood with 20 cats, four raccoons, three groundhogs, five chickens, two kinkajous, a Chinese bear cat, one African serval, two chinchillas, one hedgehog and an alligator named Arnold Schwarzen-gator who, in the winter, lives in her basement. (Yes, she’s licensed.)
But the felines have become her focus and, after scores of performances, Martin has learned a thing or two about managing a cat act. The most important lesson: Cats simply won’t perform if there are any dogs in the first three rows.
“The cats are really like diva actresses,” Martin said. “They can’t be pleased and they’re always walking off in a huff.”
On that recent night, the cats seemed to pull themselves together just before curtain. As circus music filled the darkened theater, the cats — one by one — tottered across the high wire. The show picked up its pace, and the cats ran an obstacle course, swung from a rope and competed in a bell-ringing contest against a chicken (Tuna, a white-haired mix, won with a strike).
For the grand finale, the Rock Cats took to their instruments, drawing ooohs and ahhhs from the crowd. Amid the waves of applause stood Martin, resplendent in her velvet cat suit.
After the show ended and the crowd rushed forward for photos, someone asked Martin if she ever regrets getting involved with the cats.
“No, not at all,” she said, feeding the guitarist some tuna. “Because, when it works, it’s a great thing. It’s something that no one else is doing. There aren’t a lot of people who are excited about getting up in front of a crowd and being humiliated by a bunch of cats. So, you know, I feel like I’ve got a corner on the market.”
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Train your cat in three easy steps
Samantha Martin, manager, trainer and owner of the Rock Cats, uses “clicker training” to train her felines. With a little luck and a lot of patience you too could have your cats jumping through hoops.
What you’ll need
1. Something that makes a clicking sound. Martin sells training kits, “clicker” included, at shows and by phone (773-549-3357). But you can use a ballpoint pen or make a clucking sound with your tongue. Pet stores also sell clickers.
2. Treats. Use them to reinforce a behavior. Tuna fish works well, as do pieces of chicken or lamb-flavored baby food.
3. A target stick. A foot long and topped with a ball, or something similar, it’s used to direct the cat’s attention.
How it works
The “click” tells the cat exactly when it is performing the correct behavior. Combined with positive reinforcement — a small piece of tuna dispensed immediately — the clicks can help teach a cat to perform tricks.
The steps
1. Use the treats to lure the cat toward the target stick. Click and treat when the cat sniffs or touches the end of the target stick with its nose.
2. Move the target, continuing to click-and-treat when the cat follows.
3. After the cat has learned to follow the target, you can use it to guide the cat’s attention, clicking and treating to shape a variety of behaviors, including jumping to a seat or running an obstacle course.
Helpful hints
1. Keep it short. Martin recommends 10-minute sessions daily.
2. Start early. Cats learn best when they’re young; start training when they are between 8 weeks and 4 months old.
3. Be patient.
— Colleen Mastony
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You really can teach an old cat new tricks
A cat can do anything a dog can do — except maybe bark. That’s according to Samantha Martin, who steadfastly maintains that cats can sit up and beg, fetch a ball and even roll over.
“Cat’s totally have a bad rap. They’re so brilliant, they have people convinced that they can’t be trained,” said Martin.
Suspecting that Martin might be onto something, I invited her to train my cat, a 12-year-old mixed breed named Mama, who spends her days shredding furniture and sleeping in the sun.
To prepare for our session, Martin told me to feed Mama a light dinner and to withhold breakfast. (Martin uses the universal motivator — food! — to train her felines.) The next day, Martin arrived carrying a bag of tools, including a “clicker” (a button that made a click-click sound), a target stick (a pointer topped with a ball) and a can of tuna fish.
Over the next 90 minutes, there were moments when I doubted my cat could learn anything at all. Even Martin seemed discouraged, at one point saying that cats sometimes need 24 hours to “absorb the lesson.”
But Martin persisted. Lured by pieces of tuna and the click-click of Martin’s clicker, Mama — after 30 halting minutes — finally jumped on the stool. After 50 minutes, Mama sat up on her hind legs. And after 60 minutes, Mama raised her paw and waved hello.
“We’ve got the wave!” Martin declared triumphantly. She eventually got Mama to repeat the trick a dozen times.
With just a can of tuna and a clicker, Martin had achieved the impossible. She had proved centuries of conventional wisdom wrong. Cats could be trained. If I had doubts, all I had to do was look at my cat, sitting on a stool and waving her paw.
— Colleen Mastony
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cmastony@tribune.com
The Amazing Circus Cats will perform Saturday at the Gorilla Tango Theatre. For tickets go to gorillatango.com or call 773-598-4549. For more information about Martin go to amazinganimals.biz.
The cat skills in action: Watch Samantha Martin put her trained felines through their paces, and get a glimpse into her home, which she shares with cats, rats and assorted other animals. Check out chicagotribune.com/catrocker
