Nick Lavallee talks chicken tenders, action figures, music and joy
For someone who’s never held office and does not aspire to, Nick Lavallee knew what to do when he got up to speak at the Manchester Board of Mayor and Aldermen meeting in early December 2022. He was a man on a mission to foster pride in his home city via its signature dish, the chicken tender.
If the Island of Misfit Toys ever were to produce a food item, it would be the culinary masterpiece invented in the Puritan Backroom 50 years ago. Before Charlie Pappas decided to marinade, lightly bread and deep fry his first tenderloin, it was a castoff piece of the bird. Now, it’s the Backroom’s biggest seller.
The “tendie” is also a staple at restaurants throughout the city — and beyond. That’s why Lavallee implored the board to make it official. “Chicago is home to deep dish pizza; Detroit is known for its Mom’s Spaghetti. Manchester should be synonymous with the chicken tender,” he told them.
A little over seven months later, he stood on the pitcher’s mound at Delta Dental Stadium as the Fisher Cats were renamed the Chicken Tenders for one game. Beside him was a signed proclamation from Mayor Joyce Craig declaring Manchester the Chicken Tender Capital of the World.
Lavallee’s successful crusade was just one of his many efforts to build up his home city’s self-esteem, and boosterism has driven him for almost as long as he’s lived here. To hear him tell it, relentless positivity is a form of personal self-repair as well.
“I wanted to give Manchester a reason to believe in itself,” he said of what motivated him to speak that chilly December night, an act initially greeted with chuckles by city leaders. “I’ve learned to believe in myself along the way.”
It wouldn’t be his last trip to a municipal meeting.
In early October, Lavallee spoke in support of Eighty Eight Coffee Co., a Manchester business facing eminent domain and seeking a better deal from the city. “It’s more than a craft coffee shop,” he said, wearing a Stay Joyful ballcap. “It’s a community gathering space, one that is unfortunately rare to find in the largest city in New Hampshire.”
A few days before the meeting, the city had increased its offer to align with an independent appraisal done by Eighty Eight’s owners, but he hoped that his input would compel a closer look at the other costs of forcing the shop from its Queen City Avenue location.
The list of Lavallee’s successes in promoting his hometown continues to grow. A recent New York Times story that was teased on the front page and filled the cover of the Food Section was the result of Lavallee’s chicken championing.
Of course, the Paper of Record strove for fairness and balance in the story. “An icon of simple, straightforward, unpretentious American taste,” Pete Wells wrote of the tender, “it can also be an expression of dull, unadventurous food engineered for the lowest common denominator.”
Whatever. Wells gave Nick Lavallee, man of the people, the final word on whether his home city deserves its self-declared title. “It’s a silly idea … but you ask yourself: Is it true? Yes. Is it important? Sure. Manchester has had an identity problem. Why not point out the things worth celebrating?”
It’s fair to call him the Mayor of Tender Town, but Nick’s no politician. He’s a cheerleader, and beyond that, he’s walking the walk. Lavallee’s latest endeavor is a Wicked Joyful retail space located in Queen City Center, a mixed-use facility that’s under construction at 21 Canal St. It is due to open next May.
It’s been a long journey for the creative polymath, who has at various points of his life performed in punk rock bands, toured the country doing comedy, and promoted shows in downtown Manchester along with running his pop culture business — all while holding down a day job in community media.
Lavallee’s toughest road, though, was the one to happiness. Like a lot of artists, he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder, especially in his standup days. Maybe a better way to describe it is fierce ambition that more than a few mistook for something darker.
“The folks who own Vermont Comedy Club once told me, ‘When we met you, you appeared kind of mean’ — and I was in a good mood!” he recalled. “I feel like what was in my head was not what I could translate to people, whereas I’d like to think when people meet me now, it’s significantly different.”
It is, and most agree that the line of demarcation was Lavallee’s giving up alcohol in 2015.
Jenny Zigrino knew him when both were starting out in the comedy world in the late 2000s, when she recalls him being competitive and intense. “A Townie feel … it was Nick against the world,” she said by phone from New York City. “We were comedy friends … later, we became friend friends.”
The friendship, Zigrino continued, “really blossomed around like 2017, after he’d gotten sober and had a new-lease-on -life kind of vibe. I think he was just taking care of himself more. I think that being sober really was the key to him changing.”
Lavallee also lost a lot of weight, and he shifted his outlook from ruminating to radiating happy energy. On his socials, he urged followers to “stay joyful.” Much of his attention went to writing songs for Donaher, the pop punk band he formed with Tristan Omand, Lee Sevigny and Adam Wood in 2017.
It’s said that great art requires suffering, but Lavallee took a novel approach to coming up with material for his band’s first album, I Swear My Love Is True. Six months sober, he began a relationship one June knowing it would end in August, when the object of his affection moved across the country.
“It was a one-summer stand,” he said. “When I met her I was like, ‘Oh my God, I want to write pop songs for you all summer, and she said, ‘What about when I move?’ I said, ‘Then the songs will get better’ and she said, ‘Deal.’ And they did!”
There was, he continued, another reason for the exercise. “It was true heartbreak, but it was wild because as much pain as I was in, I was so happy to feel that hurt because I was sober,” he said. “It was a weird test, and it may not have been emotionally responsible. But, at the same time, I never turned to alcohol. I was thankful for the relationship because she enabled my continued sobriety.”
In 2019, Nick began augmenting action figures picked up at tag sales and secondhand stores to reflect pop culture moments. He’d repaint a discarded GI Joe as Rivers Cuomo of Weezer or Eddie Murphy in The Golden Child, create humorous packaging, stick an ersatz price tag on the finished work of art, and post a photo of it to Instagram.
He called the venture Wicked Joyful, the name a triple entendre that found its way into his brain and wouldn’t leave. “It represents yin and yang, the salty and sweet of being a New England guy,” he said, “and, I think, my sense of humor. That’s me. I’m wicked joyful.”
The effort began as a way to build an online community.
“It was just going to be a means of sharing photos of vintage toys and developing a following, connecting with people.” Beyond that, he continued, “I was also at a crossroads with stand-up. I was sick of it.”
Along with co-producer Dave Carter, he’d built the Shaskeen Pub into a midweek hub for alt comedy. With national headliners like W. Kamau Bell, Dan Soder, Emma Willmen and Kyle Kinane appearing, they two did more than 400 shows over seven years. Lavallee, however, now saw a different path for his humor. (Lavallee and Carter handed off organizing duties when weekly shows returned mid-2021. Wednesday comedy nights are now run by Sam Mangano – see rubyroom.com for upcoming shows.)
“I loved building the community we had at Shaskeen, but I realized I could do essentially the same thing through this medium of custom action figures,” he said. “I have creative license. This is my thing. I can insert myself in these pieces.”
Early works included Chris D’Elia with an Eminem cultural reference, and John Cusack holding a boom box over his head in Say Anything. People really started to take notice when a piece depicting Bill Burr in his Star Wars spinoff Mandalorian role, with a New England twist, blew up online.
Accessorized with a Dunkin’ cup and a galactic weapon, with consequential Rs lined out and replaced by an H, i.e. “Stah Wahs: Mayfield The Shahp Shootah,” the piece was retweeted by the comic and covered by the Boston Globe. Similarly, John Stamos responded to an action figure of his Full House Uncle Jesse character.
“How was my 2019?” Lavallee wrote on then-Twitter. “John frickin’ Stamos retweeted me.”
When the pandemic hit in March 2020, it was a blessing for Lavallee, as it provided him with an excuse to pivot from comedy to his newly growing venture, which he called “a medium that I can communicate my most authentic self with that stand-up could never do for me.”
He was successful at telling jokes and creating hilarious multimedia content. With sobriety, his routine was kinder, gentler and more reflective of his hometown and upbringing. Crowds were warming to him in a new way, but the bits required more self-deprecation than he liked.
“I was getting really burnt out on Nick Lavallee’s name, face, body … my words,” he said, his voice trailing off. “Now I know why so many comedians deal with mental health issues and everything else, because I was dealing with a lot of them myself.”
“It does things to you,” Jenny Zigrino agreed. “You’re only as good as your last set … it can make you toxic. It’s also just a lonely job and Nick thrives on community.”
In January 2020 Lavallee sat on an MSNBC panel during primary season and told a national cable audience, in response to an Ari Melber question, that anyone visiting Manchester should try the chicken tenders. With a second wing added, his high-flying bird took flight.
Over time, he added apparel to the Wicked Joyful product line, beginning with a bright yellow Chicken Tender Capital of the World T-shirt featuring an anthropomorphic tendie perched in a sauce cup that’sa replica of one from the Puritan Backroom. Along with that were fun packs filled with pins and stickers, and more than a few Manchester inside jokes like a Cadillac Motel key fob.
There’s a Tender Town banner, logoed water bottles, holiday ornaments and a flood of action figures, all one of a kind, like the one marking Exeter as New England’s UFO Capital, a tribute to one of his favorite bands The Get Up Kids, and Chappell Roan in her Midwest Princess Lollapalooza suit.
His wares are available online and at street fairs; he did brisk business at this year’s Taco Tour. He’s also at events like the recent Granite State Comicon, where his booth was a few yards away from one run by Dave’s Hot Chicken, a new addition to Manchester.
Wicked Joyful pop-up shops
Sunday, Oct. 27, 5 to 7 p.m., at Bookery, 844 Elm St., Manchester
Saturday, Nov. 9, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. at Garrison City Mini Con, City Hall, Dover
Sunday, Dec. 8, noon to 3 p.m. at Merrymaking on West Merrimack, Manchester
Lavallee is amused that both Dave’s and fellow chicken restaurant Raising Cane’s are opening franchises in the city.
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” he said. “Why all of a sudden did these two national chains decide to come to Manchester? I mean, the Chicken Tender Initiative got a lot of press.”
He wasn’t telling the whole story. Lavallee was invited to the Dave’s ribbon-cutting ceremony, where he noticed their signature graffiti decor included a nod to his initiative. Later, he chatted with the local franchise owner and learned he was also a fan of Goldenrod Restaurant, the city’s second pillar of tenders, and the Puritan.
“Chicken tenders are deliciously non-divisive and truly bring the people of Manchester together,” Lavallee wrote on Facebook.
Another person who noticed Lavallee’s enterprising civic activism was Travis York, the entrepreneur behind Queen City Center. Early on, he wanted Nick to be a part of it, both for his art and his skill at putting together events, something he still does for Shaskeen rock shows and other venues.
“I’ve admired how multifaceted he is but perhaps most importantly how joyful he seems pursuing and doing those types of things,” York said by phone from his office at GYK Antler, a creative agency located across the parking long from the new development. “I’ve always liked to surround myself with people like that and when Queen City Center as a development project came up … Nick was one of the first guys that came to mind to … be a thought partner to me and the team as we consider how to bring that vision to reality.”
Nick’s experience as a promoter will be valuable at Queen City.
“There’s a multitude of options for where we could host different types of events,” York said. “We have the desire to bring comedy, music and other types of entertainment that might be a bit different than what the city’s drawn in the past.”
In the early 2010s, York and his wife hosted concerts at their home in the North End, many by acts that went on to greater fame. He hopes to bring similar talent to the new venue. “The good thing about Manchester is there are places where people can play and do stuff,” he said. “The challenge is they all kind of serve multi-purposes and are not consistently bringing in talent…. That’s a gap in the market we think we can fill.”
One belief York shares with Lavallee is that the state, “and specifically southern New Hampshire [has] always had a bit of a poor self-esteem, at least in my era. Growing up, I went to West High School in the ’90s [and] like a lot of people I grew up with, I moved away … I didn’t imagine I would be back. I’m certainly glad that I am.”
These days, the narrative is shifting, and more young people are choosing Manchester. Leadership is needed for that to continue.
“People are moving to this area because they want to; they see something better than we believe we have,” York said. “If we can better align the potential of our city with the desires of those coming here, then everybody should win as a result of that.”
He’s happy to have Lavallee as an ally. “Nick has clearly found lanes of his creativity that are very authentic to him,” he said, recalling a conversation when the New York Times story came out. “I said, this is now etched in your obituary. If something, God forbid, happens to you, being behind the chicken tender capital-of-the-world thing is going to be in there.’ He couldn’t have been prouder, and I kind of love that … it’s a positive way of bringing his talents to the world, getting people to engage and be joyful.”
The self-described “compulsive creative” has a newfound ability to prioritize his packed life into something more well-rounded. If he’s behind a microphone, it’s probably a conference on community media, or another municipal meeting. The only time he’s on stage is with Donaher, and he keeps that in perspective.
When they play, it’s usually at a show he organized, and Donaher is down the bill. That’s so he can wrap up early and enjoy watching his friends play — he’s usually near the front of the stage, dancing like a fan. Another reason is it gives him an early bedtime if he needs one.
Music is more a pastime than a profession. “The band’s a bowling league. I’m comfortable saying that, and I think the guys would say the same. Tristan’s a dad, we’ve got jobs, we’ve got significant others. There are no illusions of grandeur there.”
Like everything else in Lavallee’s life, the main goal is to stay joyful.
“It’s nice to know that once a week or a few times a month, I have three friends I get to hang out with,” he said. “It’s four dudes who love playing music that are fighting having to be in a cover band, because that’s where a lot of people end up as they get older…. We’re still playing original music.”
Crucially, his head and heart are finally aligned with his hopeful love songs. “I wrote a lot of them years ago, but they’ve found new meaning,” he said. Joyfully, there’s a reason for this rediscovery.
Nearly a decade beyond the self-induced emotional shock treatment of his first sober summer, Nick is in a healthy relationship. Before his band roared into their third song on a recent Friday evening at the Shaskeen, he took a moment to acknowledge the woman he’s been with for the past three years.
Over an order of Puritan tenders the previous week, he’d shared that they met when she was working at a restaurant across the street from the Shaskeen. After setting up the weekly comedy show, he’d go there for dinner. He’d flirt and she’d defer, but he eventually got her number.
This began a two-year friendship that, coincidentally or not, bridged his time in and out of comedy. Then one night she strolled into the Shaskeen back room as his band was packing up. That’s the memory he recalled to introduce his song “Let Me Know” that Friday night.
“Three years ago, to the day, my best friend came to a Donaher show and asked, ‘Is it too late to say I’m in love with you?’ and I said, ‘definitely not.’ Then we made out, right over there.” He pointed to a spot near the merch table. “So I’d like to dedicate this song to Gina.”
In conversation, he’s giddy. “I’m the luckiest guy on the planet, I love her. It’s true I had to go through all that, but this relationship I have with Gina is super healthy and we’re evolving together … she’s helping me grow in so many ways.”
One thing that won’t change for Nick Lavallee is his commitment to his hometown, and to making sure that everyone’s a winner. To that end, he’ll never name a favorite tender and won’t endorse any effort that aims to crown a champion, making the case that a healthy argument helps everyone.
“If someone’s proclaimed the best in any official capacity, we lose a core part of our identity … the discussion is over,” he said, summoning the clam pie pizza capital of the world in Connecticut. “No one in New Haven is going to say Frank Pepe’s or Sally’s is definitively the best. You have to keep that conversation going.”
Finality, he concluded, contradicts “the spirit of everyone who’s ever lived here; when people come in, you want them trying everybody’s chicken tender. It’s an economic boost to tourism. As long as I’m carrying the torch of Tendertown, USA, I hope there’s never a competition.”
Donaher shows
Friday, Oct. 25, 8 p.m., Auspicious Brew, Dover, with 5Ever and Lovewell; all ages
Sunday, Nov. 10, 4 p.m., Taffetta Music Hall, Lowell, Mass., with Keep Flying, Don’t Panic, Eternal Boy; 18+
Tuesday, Dec. 31, 9 p.m., Penuches, Concord, Donaher New Years Eve Show, 21+
