I grew up watching Jerry Lewis movies at the cinema as a child and young adult. In his genre of comedy no one was better at slapstick humor than he was in his prime.
I also knew his daughter in college and talked to her because she was a class mate of mine in college.
begin quote from:
Actor and comedian Jerry Lewis dies
Jerry Lewis, comedian, dies at 91
Story highlights
- "I've had great success being a total idiot," comic Jerry Lewis once said
- Lewis, a controversial and revered entertainer, died after illness, publicist says
(CNN)Jerry
Lewis, the slapstick-loving comedian, innovative filmmaker and generous
fundraiser for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, died Sunday after a
brief illness, said his publicist, Candi Cazau. He was 91.
Cazau would not elaborate on the illness from which Lewis was suffering.
Lewis
first gained fame for his frenzied comedy-and-music act with singer
Dean Martin. When that ended in the mid-1950s, Lewis went solo, and by
the early '60s, he had become a top draw in movies such as "The
Bellboy," "The Nutty Professor" and "The Patsy." Along the way, he
pioneered the use of videotape and closed-circuit monitors in
moviemaking, a now-standard technique called video assist.
He
first helped raise money for muscular dystrophy in a telethon in 1956.
He was so successful, and so devoted to the cause, that children
affected by the disease became known as "Jerry's kids." The telethon,
long known as "The Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon," began airing on Labor Day
weekend in 1966, and Lewis served as host until 2011.
Loved and criticized
Despite
his success, Lewis also was a controversial figure. A number of people
suffering with muscular dystrophy claimed Lewis presented victims as
childlike and worthy of pity, rather than as equal members of society.
Lewis
lost some fans when he criticized women doing comedy -- "I think of (a
female comedian) as a producing machine that brings babies in the
world," he once said -- and when he lashed out at MDA critics. "You
don't want to be pitied because you're a cripple in a wheelchair? Stay
in your house!" he said in 2001 on the "CBS Morning Show." He later
apologized.
When Lewis was one of
America's leading box office attractions, critics mocked him for the
broadness of his comedy -- and took more shots at him when he became a
renowned figure in France. In 1984, the French awarded Lewis the Legion
of Honor, the country's highest tribute.
He
was emotional, big-hearted, eccentric -- once successful, he never wore
a pair of socks twice -- proud and forever playing to the back row.
He seldom apologized for it.
"Let
me tell you that probably 50% of the film community plays a game and
does their thing because they're prominent and they're making a lot of
money. And what they do is they give up a piece of their soul ... and
for them, they're comfortable, and they feel that's fine," he told CNN's
Larry King in 2000. "It was never fine for me and I wouldn't go there. I
told (legendary Hollywood gossip columnist) Louella Parsons I thought
she was a fat pig, because I thought she was. I had an opinion."
The
controversy Lewis stirred up over the years did little to dampen his
peers' and successors' appreciation of his art. Several celebrities took
to social media to share their sadness over his passing.
Comedian
Jon Lovitz called Lewis an "amazing talent," while "Star Trek" actor
George Takei thanked him for "the laughs and the feels."
"I sincerely hope his afterlife is a warm, peaceful... ...haven," actor Patton Oswalt wrote.
Wrote Public Enemy frontman Chuck D: "Earth is less funny today."
A lonely boy
Joseph
Levitch -- he changed the name to Lewis as a teenager -- was born in
Newark, New Jersey, on March 16, 1926. Entertainment ran in the family:
His father was a vaudeville performer, his mother a piano player. Lewis
occasionally performed with his parents, and by the time he was a
teenager he had developed his own act. He was a regular in New York's
Catskill Mountain resorts, popular summertime retreats for area Jews.
But Lewis was also a lonely boy, essentially raised by his grandmother. Lewis told King that his comedy was rooted in hurt.
"I
found (the comic) through pain. And the pain was that I couldn't buy
milk like the other kids in school at recess time," he said.
He
met Martin at a club in 1945 where the two were performing as soloists.
The next year they premiered as a duo in Atlantic City, New Jersey.
According to show business lore, their first show flatlined and the team
was warned by the club manager to improve or be fired. For the second
show, the two went wild with a no-holds-barred mix of comedy and music.
It was a hit.
Within four years, they were
headlining and breaking records at New York's Copacabana club. Lewis
later wrote that they set off Beatlemania-type reactions among fans --
especially female fans -- long before the term Beatlemania was coined.
Martin
played the romantic, crooning straight man, and Lewis was the
anything-for-a-laugh comedian of chaos. (Some observers called them "the
organ grinder and the monkey.") The act often featured a stint of
Martin chasing Lewis around the stage. They appeared on the very first
"Ed Sullivan Show" (then called "Toast of the Town") and shrewdly
negotiated control of their various appearances, earning them millions.
But
over the course of a decade -- a period that included 17 movies,
beginning with 1949's "My Friend Irma" -- the two grew apart. Toward the
end, Martin told Lewis he was "nothing to me but a dollar sign."
Martin's last performance with Lewis -- also at the Copa -- was on July
25, 1956.
Big life post-Martin
Despite
the acrimonious breakup, the two eventually reconciled, and Lewis and
James Kaplan released a book in 2005 with a title that explained how
Lewis saw the relationship: "Dean and Me (A Love Story)."
Upon
their breakup, Martin was expected to be the greater success. He was an
established singer and was beginning to make inroads as a respected
actor, including performances in two 1958 films: "The Young Lions"
(opposite Marlon Brando) and "Some Came Running" (with Frank Sinatra,
with whom Martin would become longtime pals as part of the Rat Pack).
Lewis,
on the other hand, was considered a lightweight, if crowd-pleasing,
clown. His early solo films, such as "The Delicate Deliquent" (1957) and
"Rock-a-Bye Baby" (1958), made under a longstanding contract with
producer Hal Wallis, were more of the same.
But upon the end of his
Wallis contract, in 1959, Lewis set out to take greater control of his
work. He signed a huge contract with Paramount, a seven-year deal
promising him $10 million and 60% of the profits for 14 films, according
to his agency biography. He starred in "Cinderfella," written and
directed by the noted comedy director Frank Tashlin, and -- when that
movie was held for release -- came up with "The Bellboy," a
silent-film-style story of pratfalls and adventures that Lewis wrote,
directed and starred in.
It was
for "The Bellboy" that Lewis first used video assist, so he could
monitor his performance as he directed. He received a patent for the
invention.
"The Bellboy" was
released in July 1960 and was a hit, helping establish Lewis as an
auteur. He exercised similar writing-directing-starring control over
several successive films, including "The Errand Boy" (1961), "The Nutty
Professor" (1963) and "The Patsy" (1964).
"The
Nutty Professor" was perhaps the prototypical Lewis vehicle. A twist on
Robert Louis Stevenson's "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," the film starred
Lewis both as nebbish professor Julius Kelp as well as smooth-talking
boor Buddy Love, the man he turned into after drinking a strange potion.
(More than one commentator has compared Love to Martin, Lewis' former
partner, but the filmmaker regularly denied Martin was the basis for the
portrayal.)
Lewis considered it
his best film, and the American Film Institute ranked it as the
99th-best American comedy of all time. Eddie Murphy remade the film in
1996, and Lewis brought a musical version to the stage in 2012.
'Mozart of humor'
In
2015, the Library of Congress announced it had acquired a huge
collection of films and documents from Lewis, including copies of his
most popular films, home movies and spoof films made by Lewis at home,
which sometimes starred neighbors such as Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh.
"For
more than seven decades I've been dedicated to making people laugh. If I
get more than three people in a room, I do a number," Lewis told the
library. "Knowing that the Library of Congress was interested in
acquiring my life's work was one of the biggest thrills of my life."
Though Lewis' humor sometimes left reviewers cold, he had a sizable fan base.
"My
generation, we grew up on Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. They were our
heroes," said the late British funnyman Marty Feldman, crediting Lewis
as one of the reasons he became a comedian. "Jerry Lewis actually has
genius."
"Lewis is the Mozart of
humor," wrote Agnes Poirier of the UK newspaper The Guardian in 2006.
"You can keep sneering. I don't care."
Lewis remained a box office
attraction during the 1960s, but his popularity waned with changing
tastes in comedy and some dismal films, such as "Way ... Way Out" (1966)
("About as funny and unusual as the daily trip on the subway," wrote
The New York Times) and "Which Way to the Front?" (1970).
One
attempt at an early-'70s film comeback, "The Day the Clown Cried" --
intended to be Lewis' first serious film -- became Hollywood legend.
In
the rarely seen film, Lewis plays a circus clown, Helmut Doork, who
ends up entertaining children at a concentration camp -- and eventually
leads them to the gas chamber. The movie was never released but has been
viewed by a select few, including comedian and "Simpsons" star Harry
Shearer, who was blunt in his assessment.
"This
movie is so drastically wrong, its pathos and its comedy are so wildly
misplaced, that you could not, in your fantasy of what it might be like,
improve on what it really is," Shearer told Spy magazine in 1992. "'Oh,
my God!' — that's all you can say."
Lewis rarely lacked for
activity or money -- he performed regularly, including an annual Las
Vegas gig that paid him well -- but he struggled to remain relevant. His
1980 comeback comedy, "Hardly Working," was given zero stars by Roger
Ebert, who said it was "one of the worst movies ever to achieve
commercial release in this country." (But it was a smash hit in Europe.)
In
the 1980s and '90s, Lewis picked a handful of serious roles that earned
him positive reviews. He played a kidnapped talk show host in Martin
Scorsese's 1982 film "The King of Comedy," earning a BAFTA nomination
for best supporting actor. He was a clothing business owner in a
plotline on the late-'80s show "Wiseguy," and he played a wise comedy
legend in the 1995 British film, "Funny Bones."
Lewis
stayed active, touring and working periodically in TV and films. In
2013 he starred in the drama "Max Rose," and in 2016 he had a role in
"The Trust," which starred Nicolas Cage and Elijah Wood. Both films were
flops with critics, but RogerEbert.com's Glenn Kenny, in reviewing "Max
Rose," said Lewis' performance was "full of virtues: He's committed,
disciplined and entirely credible."
He helped raise billions
For many years, Lewis was most known for his work as the fundraising face of the Muscular Dystrophy Association.
He
started his activity with MDA in 1951, according to his agency
biography, although why he got involved has remained a mystery over the
years. In 1956, he and Martin hosted an MDA telethon that raised
$600,000. The first Labor Day Telethon, which was held in 1966 and aired
only in the New York market, raised more than $1 million.
By
1973, the year the telethon moved to Las Vegas, it had a network of
more than 150 stations and was raising more than $10 million.
The annual telethon, which
aired live and ran for as long as 21½ hours, was filled with traditions.
"Tonight Show" co-host Ed McMahon joined Lewis for many years and would
cue up the band when the tote board hit another big number. (McMahon
died in 2009.) Lewis welcomed hundreds of guests, including the
entertainment flavor of the month, surprise stars -- John Lennon dropped
by in 1972 -- or old friends: In 1976, he reunited with Martin, thanks
to the intercession of mutual acquaintance Frank Sinatra.
And
he was defiantly Lewis: clowning, raving, doing impromptu soft-shoes
with the tie of his tuxedo undone. He traditionally concluded the
broadcast with the Broadway standard "You'll Never Walk Alone."
In
2011, Lewis and the Muscular Dystrophy Association announced they were
parting ways, and in 2015 MDA announced that there would be no more
telethons, although Lewis worked with MDA in 2016 on a promotional
video.
The "Jerry Lewis MDA
Telethon" raised more than $2.4 billion, Lewis told the Las Vegas Sun in
2010. Lewis was awarded the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award from the
Motion Picture Academy in 2009.
Success as a 'total idiot'
Lewis
wasn't the picture of health. He survived prostate cancer and underwent
open-heart surgery. He once smoked five packs of cigarettes a day, and
-- because of medication -- once tipped the scales at close to 300
pounds. He developed dependencies on painkillers, which was related to a
1965 spinal injury suffered during a pratfall.
He
also never lost his edge. Asked by "Inside Edition" in 2010 what he
thought of troubled young Hollywood stars such as Lindsay Lohan, he let
fly.
"I would smack her in the
mouth if I saw her," he said. "And I would be arrested for abusing a
woman." He added that he'd be happy to "put her over my knee and spank
her."
Last year he engaged in such
a bizarre interview with The Hollywood Reporter that the publication
headlined its article, "The most painfully awkward interview of 2016."
Video of the exchange, in which a sullen Lewis rarely used more than
three words to answer a question, went viral.
He could also be a soft touch, donating time and money to organizations such as the March of Dimes.
Lewis
had six children, five sons and a daughter, by two wives. One son,
Gary, became the lead singer of the 1960s pop group Gary Lewis and the
Playboys.
Through it all, he never
lost his outlook. "I've had great success being a total idiot," he once
said, combining both ego and self-deprecation.
"You're still 9, right?" asked King in 2000.
"Oh, yes," replied Lewis. "I will cut your tie some night with a scissor."
Correction:
An earlier story misstated the name of the deceased. Comedian Jerry
Lewis has died at age 91, according to his publicist.
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