Jerry Lewis has learned some painful lessons
since breaking with Dean Martin, but he isn't sorry;
he has what he wants work and more work.
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Tf n m m m m
esrv
by Peer J. Oppenheimer
Jerry can be a clown (above) or
a gentleman. At right, he takes
time out from emceeing Acad
emy Awards to talk with Oscar
winner Jack Lemmon. Jerry han
dled affair in both '56 and '57.
Ocrabble and Canasta are no longer among
Hollywood's fashionable pastimes. A quiz called
"What Makes Jerry Run?" has replaced them.
Jerry is Jerry Lewis, comedy's crewcut answer
to the jet age. And the game's brainbusting ques
tion concerns this frail young man's dynamic drive
to do everything better than everybody.
Here was a likable refugee from the tough
vaudeville-nightclub circuit who became wealthy
and famous before he was 30. With his handsome
singing partner, Dean Martin, he had a lifetime
guarantee to glory.
So what does he do? the Hollywood gamesters
ask. He breaks with Martin! He plunges into the
most nerve-shattering, career-wrecking of Holly
wood ventures producing and directing his own
films. He also develops a special solo nightclub
and television routine.
As if this weren't enough, he enlarges his already
prodigious activities in charity work, GI enter
tainment, and film promotion. His second stint in
emceeing the recent Academy Awards presenta
tions is only one example of Jerry's away-from-work
work.
So what does make Jerry run?
The Delicate Delinquent in new film tie pro
ind helped write. He expects to direct someday.
Let's ask him. "I like my work," he replies
matter-of-factly. "I'm happiest when I'm enter
taining. People say that at this pace you can't
live past 60. But what are years worth if you
don't enjoy them?"
This attitude, more than occasional jealousies
and rifts which were quickly forgotten, led to
Jerry's breakup with Dean Martin. The singer is
older and far more easygoing. A movie and a
couple of TV appearances were considered a year's
work by Dean. The rest of the time was best
spent golfing, he figured.
But Jerry's favorite sport, hobby, avocation, and
secret love all boil down to the same thing work
and more work. And so came the parting of the
day's top comedy team, and a new gamble on the
future by Jerry. If the keen-witted comic wanted
a 24-hour schedule, he got it in his new field. His
first production is "The Delicate Delinquent," from
a story by (who else?) Jerry Lewis. In filming it,
Jerry learned why his old producer, Hal fc'allis!
sometimes looked shaken at the off-camera antics'
of the irrepressible MartineLewis team. Jerry
O
also may have understood more clearly why his
old partner wanted no part of ambition.
With Wallis, for example, Jerry was continually
coming up with visual gags to spark up his films.
Some of the gimmicks were expensive, but Jerry's
stock reply was, "What's money?"
Jerry has learned the painful answer now. When
his own prop man recently developed an idea for
a chest of drawers that fell apart when slammed
and then reassembled itself, Jerry was sold.
"It'll cost $3,750," the prop man added. This
time Jerry didn't reply "What's money?"
To such hourly headaches add the daily crises
of a million-dollar enterprise with hundreds of
workers, and you see why Lewis' day begins at
7 a.m. and ends in the late evening. Remember,
too, evenings may mean charity work, personal
appearances, or interviews.
It's a tribute to Jerry's strong family loyalty
that his consuming ambition is never at the ex
pense of his wife, Patti, and their three boys, Gary,
11, Ronnie, 7, and Scottie, 1.
The Lewis' vacations are always family vaca
tions, and Jerry's business trips are arranged to
keep him away from home as little as possible.
Jerry was at the Paramount Theater in New
York when Ronnie broke his leg. The comedian
flew back to Hollywood after his last show, spent
four hours at his son's bedside, then returned East
without missing a performance.
During an appearance at Chicago's Chez Paree,
Patti phoned Jerry to tell him the children were
lonesome. Jerry promptly made arrangements for
a police escort to Midway Airport after his last
show and had a car standing by at Los Angeles
International Airport to meet his flight. He had
only an hour and a half to talk and joke with his
family before returning to Chicago, but it was
worth it for both the kids and their father.
I oneliness" is a terrifying word in Jerry Lewis'
'J world. He remembers his own childhood in
Newark, N. J., as one haunted by feelings of desola
tion. His parents were vaudevillians who, in a
depression, had to accept billings far from home.
At 8, Jerry was cooking his own meals, keeping
house, and spending endless hours in a dark,
empty apartment where each creak magnified to
dreadful proportions. His closest companion was
his grandmother, who lived nearby. She died when
Jerry was 14 and the world closed in tighter.
Childhood loneliness, as any Hollywood do-it-yourself
psychoanalyst will tell you, is the deep
seated answer to "What makes Jerry run?" They
nod wisely and say Jerry needs success, admira
tion, and activity to protect him from memories of
being small and alone.
Well, maybe they're right Even so, none of
Family Wrrkly. Jnly 14. 1957