The Ha Ha Café in North Hollywood has launched plenty of new comedians, but on this particular night, the room hummed with a special kind of anticipation. Myles Murphy, son of comedy icon Eddie Murphy, was about to take the stage — not as a celebrity kid, but as a young comic who had quietly been grinding for months.
What most people in the room didn’t know was that Myles had been slipping into open mics across Los Angeles for the past six months, performing under the radar. No entourage. No announcements. No family name attached. He wanted to earn his laughs the honest way — by stepping up to the mic with nothing but his material and his nerve.
He kept the entire journey to himself. Not even close friends knew. Myles wanted to be sure he was ready, that he had found his voice, that he could stand onstage without the weight of expectations. Only when he finally felt comfortable — when the jokes were landing, when the nerves had settled into excitement — did he tell everyone what he’d been doing. And only then did he start inviting people to come watch.
So when he walked onto the Ha Ha Café stage that night, it wasn’t a debut built on hype. It was the reveal of months of quiet work.
His first joke hit. Then another. And soon the room was rolling with laughter — not polite laughter, but the real kind, the kind that comes from surprise and delight. Myles wasn’t imitating his father; he was carving out his own comedic rhythm, sharp and modern, with a confidence that only comes from putting in the reps when no one is watching.
Comedians in the back exchanged knowing looks. The host whispered, “He’s been practicing,” as Myles delivered a punchline that brought the house down.
When the set ended, the applause felt like more than encouragement. It felt like acknowledgment — a room full of strangers recognizing a young comic who had earned his moment.
Outside, under the glow of the Ha Ha Café sign, Myles smiled as friends and family congratulated him. For them, it was a surprise. For him, it was the next step in a journey he’d already been walking for half a year.
One mic. One room. One night. And the beginning of something entirely his own.
