This Tennessee Grandma Just Might Be the Savior of Sitcoms

This Tennessee Grandma Just Might Be the Savior of Sitcoms

Leanne Morgan had her sights set on Hollywood for as long as she can remember. Her family owned a small grocery store in rural Tennessee, and young Morgan was known for hamming it up in the aisles. Even her teachers recognized her gift, urging her to deliver announcements and emcee school events. But life ultimately got in the way of her comedy dreams. Three children and a working husband meant Morgan couldn’t grind it out on the club circuit like many of her male counterparts. For years, she settled for a mix of corporate comedy gigs and the occasional charity benefit, which led to periodic overtures from Hollywood that never amounted to much.

By 2019, Morgan was ready to hang it up. Before she did, however, she shelled out a few thousand dollars for a pair of social media experts to reformat her material for the digital era. It was a last-ditch effort, and it worked. Overnight, her comedy went viral. Suddenly Morgan, in her early 50s, was the draw she always imagined she’d be. A sold-out arena tour, a hit Netflix special, a best-selling book and, come July 31, an eponymous Chuck Lorre sitcom for Netflix followed. Now, as her 60th birthday looms, the self-described “Grandmama from Tennessee” Zoomed in from her Knoxville, TN home to discuss her late-in-life success and the recurring feedback that nearly derailed it.

You almost had sitcoms go before this, but they didn’t have a great handle on your brand, and you didn’t have the confidence to push back. When did the latter come?

Oh, darling, I’m still working on it. With all those deals, I worked with precious people but I’d know in my heart, like, this is not how we are in the south. This is not how church people are. This is not how my family is. But when you want something so bad… And they’ll tell you, “We love you,” but then they want to change you. Hollywood people can’t help it. And I don’t blame ’em, they don’t know my world. With this sitcom, at first, they were trying to find their footing and I was freaked out but then I thought, “I’ve got to give them grace. They’re trying to learn me just like I am them.” And I was finally able to get to a place where at the beginning of every week, I could [read through a script and] go, “We wouldn’t say that,” or “This isn’t what would happen.” So, I’m finally getting the guts, honey.

Historically, how has the feedback from the stand-up world compared with that of Hollywood?

Oh, I was raising these children first. I wasn’t out here grinding. I was doing corporate [gigs] for men that make carpet fiber. They probably spent more on the shrimp than they did on me.

Corporate gigs are notoriously tough …

Oh, they’re horrible. They suck the life out of you. These men have been playing golf all day, they’re tired, they’ve probably had alcohol, and I’m up there talking about going on Weight Watchers and how I don’t like low-cut panties.

Yet you kept working. What would you hear from the bookers?

When I was trying to audition for Aspen or Montreal [comedy festivals] or when Comedy Central would come through, they wanted edgy and I was in a kitten heel and a pant with a bird on it, talking about how somebody doodied on a T-ball field. They’d say, “Oh, she’s not edgy. She’s a mom comic.” But people in clubs always booked me. They’d go, “Keep going. You’re unique.” Now, Hollywood? Hollywood loves that mom in the kitten heel. They’d see my new 45 minutes and say, “You’ve written a sitcom!” Then I’d get there and they’d go, “Let’s make your husband a Hispanic man.” And don’t get me wrong, I love Hispanic men. God forbid something happens to [husband] Chuck Morgan, I’m dating a Latino man. But they’d switch everything up — “Let’s make your daughter on dope, or she wants to make it in a country music and she’s on ecstasy” — and I’d be like, “Have y’all watched my act?!”

So, what ultimately changed, you or the culture?

COVID hit and people wanted to connect with people who were real, and there I was on the back porch talking about fixing my mama something that she could eat after her stroke. And that’s me. I talk about taking care of elderly parents, launching children, menopause, and it was a niche that nobody was filling.

Did anyone along the way urge you to be edgier on stage?

Oh, I don’t think anybody cared enough. And it’s okay. I’m not bitter about it. I was meant to raise my children and I think it’s the best thing that ever happened. So many more people can relate to me because I did raise these children and I have gone to Weight Watchers and I don’t like my stomach and my husband gets on my nerves.

How quickly did Netflix jump on the Leanne Morgan bandwagon?

It took ’em a while, but then I got some big guns in my camp who could say, “Y’all don’t have anybody like her.” I ended up leasing my first [hour] to them, and they’ve been so precious to me. I just shot my second one for them, and I’ve got a deal for a third in 2027. And then they gave me this show — me and Chuck Lorre walked in there and I said something about having a weak pelvic floor, I was nervous, and they were basically like, “What do you want to do? We’ll do it.”

It’s not exactly altruism on their part …

No, but if you could have seen the crudités and the pickles that they put out for my press junket! I was nervous for that, too. I had a media coach. As if somebody was going to ask me if I’d ever slept with Ben Affleck or something. And honey, I would have, had I been out here in my 20s!

Initially, you and Chuck Lorre wanted to do a single-camera comedy, no?

Yes. But Netflix said, “Would y’all please consider doing a multicam and bringing that [format] back?” I thought, “Don’t put that burden on me.” Then they said, “We’ll greenlight it right now if you do.”

Despite the title, it’s not autobiographical. For one, you’re not starting over as a divorcée.

That was Chuck [Lorre’s idea]. He didn’t want to base it on my real family, and he liked the idea of starting over because it’s a theme that people can relate to. I balked at first, but I think it’s the smartest thing we did because I really would’ve felt protective over my children, my grandchildren and Chuck Morgan. And years ago, I met a showrunner on Reba, and that was based on [Reba McEntire’s] real life, and she got very protective. It wasn’t a good thing.

I do wonder if people will assume it is based on your real life.

They already have. Women on Instagram started saying, “I knew that Chuck Morgan couldn’t handle her success!” Or “I knew he didn’t want her making more money!” And then he saw it and said, “Do something!”

I will say, your husband is a very good sport.

There was only one time that he said to me, “Do not say that.” When I first got started, I’d breast fed a bunch of kids and I wanted to get my breast done, and I said [on stage], “I want my breasts done, but it’s been a bad year in the mobile home industry.” Chuck Morgan was in the mobile home industry, and he said to me, “I will always take care of you. I could write a check for your breasts right now. I don’t want anybody to think I cannot provide for you.” That is his purpose, and I never said anything like that again.

You’ve likely seen some of Netflix’s data around your comedy. What’s most surprised you?

I’ve seen a lot of numbers, and [her special, 2023’s I’m Every Woman,] did very well. People watch to the end, and then they watch it two, three, four more times. And you just know that Joe Rogan, Dave Chappelle, Bill Burr, all these guys that I’ve admired, are getting these numbers and are thinking, like, “Who is this woman with the big breasts and the flowery dress talking about her panties?”

Unlike them, you’ve never gotten political onstage. Ever tempted?

Honey, if you want to talk about fingernail polish or a spray tan, I’m good at that. I wouldn’t know how to talk about politics. I’ve also had my Dolly Parton to look up to, and, like her, I just don’t want anybody to feel uncomfortable.

Before I lose you, you shot a movie, You’re Cordially Invited, with Reese Witherspoon and Will Ferrell, and then did this TV show. How do you feel about Hollywood now?

I’m tickled. I do hope this show gets picked up [for additional seasons]. I’ve texted everybody I know that’s had a TV show, like, “What if people don’t like it?” But Jerry Seinfeld said to me, “Honey, get ready to worry the rest of your life. That’s just part of it.”

This story appeared in the July 30 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.