Jerry Lewis has written (with co-author James Kaplan) a book about his relationship with Dean Martin. I've only had the time to skim it but a lot of the details seem to be at odds with previous accounts by others…which is not to say Jerry's might not be the truth or at least closer to the truth. I'll write more about it after I have the time to give it a good read but in the meantime, you can order a copy from Amazon by clicking here.
I didn't get my copy that way. Last evening, I went to an event where Mr. Lewis appeared. Producer George Schlatter interviewed him, Jerry took questions from a loving audience, and pre-signed copies (signed almost illegibly, "Jerry") were available for the purchasing. Jerry was funny and generally self-effacing, and he also looked to be in very good health for a man who's close to eighty and whose body has been through all that his has endured. Once or twice, he launched into condemnations of today's comedians — his big problem with most of them is that they don't move enough on stage — and of shows like those of Jerry Springer and Maury Povich. But he also spoke well of Dean, referring to him often as "my partner" and making clear what a great performer he thought Martin was…and he didn't mean just as a singer. In particular, he emphasized how fast Dean could pick up on a new routine and go right out and perform it, letter-perfect every time.
Speaking of the breakup, Jerry said — I'm quoting from memory here — "There were outside forces working against us…people who'd tell Dean, 'You're a great singer. You could do a solo. You don't need the monkey.' And there were people telling me, 'You don't need him.' You try not to listen to people like that but late at night, when you're lying in bed, you hear them saying those things over and over. That contributed to it. It became like a cancer on our partnership and one way or another, you have to remove a cancer."
The conversation veered towards Jerry's career and he was asked about his infamous unreleased film, The Day the Clown Cried. He said — again, this is from memory — "I did my job as an actor. I did not do my job as a director. The film is not worthy of being seen and it will never be seen. I won't allow it." The questioner asked him if it had ever been completed or if it was still in a rough cut form and Jerry shrugged and said, "What difference does it make?"
He praised some of today's performers, singling out Robin Williams, Martin Short, Steve Martin, Billy Crystal and Paul Reiser. He said his TV viewing is confined to Bravo, A&E, The Discovery Channel, The History Channel and other similar stations and that he does not watch sitcoms. Asked about the white sweatsocks that he usually wears, sometimes even with formal garb, he said, "I wear them because I like them. They feel comfortable to me. I change socks about four times a day, always putting on a brand new, never-before-worn pair. Each year, I send hundreds of pairs of socks to –" and he gave the name of some charitable organization in Las Vegas. "There are people in Hollywood who spend just as much money each year on something else that's white but they put it up their noses."
There were two brief outpourings of the fabled Lewis anger. One was when he got on the subject of critics. The other occurred because in ticking off a list of great comedians of the past, he pointedly mentioned "The Marx Brothers without Groucho." Later, someone in the audience asked about that odd omission and he told a story that didn't quite make sense. He said it occurred in 1978 or 1979 at a comedy festival in Canada. Groucho, he said, appeared the day before him and said bad things about "my best friend in the world, Stan Laurel." As Jerry told the story, he got up there the next day and "took him apart," telling the world that Groucho was an untalented thief of old jokes. Lewis then pointed out that Groucho's son Arthur wrote a book about Martin and Lewis that…well, I'm not sure if he read it but he sure didn't like it, and that had something to do with his low opinion of Groucho.
As I said, the tale didn't quite compute for me or, I suspect, most of those present. For one thing, by 1978, Groucho was in no shape to make a public appearance, having died in 1977. I don't think he made any speeches anywhere after about '74 and in earlier times, had expressed naught but admiration for Laurel and Hardy. Even assuming Groucho appeared somewhere at some time and said something negative about Laurel, that of course has little to do with whether or not he was a great comedian…and the fact that his son wrote a book has even less. So I'm not sure what was happening there.
Apart from those odd digressions into acrimony, the evening was most enjoyable for the folks who turned out for it. On the way out, there was a younger person repeating over and over, like it did not seem humanly possible, "That's the guy who made The Nutty Professor." Yes, it was. There's an awful lot of history in that man and even if he was there to push a book, it was nice of him to share some of it with us.
