You can also find my take on them in "Stars of Stand-Up" and "Who's Who in Comedy."
If you want a personal observation on Dick Gregory, I can tell you he was a gentle, soft-spoken guy. If you listen to his records, you may be surprised at his mildness. He wasn't manic like Godfrey Cambridge, or cutting like Richard Pryor. People seem to forget a catch-phrase he used: "So you see, we all have problems."
He knew that the people in his audience may have come for "the word," but they also came because they wanted to, and because they needed to be entertained. His humor wasn't confined to race. And for a "leader," he had tremendous humility. I'm not sure if the way he signed autographs was to avoid spelling a name wrong, or mis-hearing a name, but I liked it: "To You."
In a way, that's a lot more direct than signing it to your name.
I have many autographs in my copy of "Stars of Stand Up." A lot of stars autographed their entry, including Robin Williams, Steve Martin, Steve Allen, Mort Sahl, Henny Youngman, Dick Cavett, Woody Allen, the Smothers Brothers and dozens more. No, I don't have Jerry Lewis, because he's not in that book. It wasn't primarily known for stand-up and didn't issue albums or film a one-man show.
I met Jerry several times, often while covering comedy events including Friars roasts. Jerry was "on," and typically manic, making faces, using props, using people as props. I'm not a big fan of putting WATERMARK or DO NOT COPY all over a photo to discourage piracy and misuse, so you'll just have to take my word. He was a fun photo subject. But my main memory of Jerry isn't that he didn't disappoint when it came to a photo op.
Jerry made one appearance on the "legitimate" stage. He took over for Victor Garber as The Devil in the revival of "Damn Yankees." I was down in Times Square one afternoon, and I thought it would be fun to catch Jerry after the matinee. The theater, directly facing Broadway, had several exits for patrons, stagehands and performers.
Apparently nobody knew which one Jerry was going to use. Usually you can tell where to stand by the small crowd that includes professional autograph-seekers who have photos waiting to be signed and later sold. I was going to give up, when an almost hidden door suddenly opened. I instantly recognized Jerry, and automatically smiled, just seeing him. He was grim. His eyes were unfocused. It was summer and he was dressed in a shirt, bermuda shorts, and socks high up his calves. He could almost pass for a Times Square tourist, except tourists are happy.
Tourists aren't flanked by bodyguards.
On either side of Jerry, like secret service agents, were grim men in dark suits. One of them had a radio, and was talking into it. The trio made their way to the curb. No fans approached. Surely a few people walking by saw it was Jerry Lewis. Jerry and the bodyguards made their way across the wide Broadway boulevard and the traffic, to where a limo waited, heading uptown.
Jerry was not prone toward Jewish comedy. His annual charity event was the Muscular Dystrophy telethon. However, the former Joseph Levitch hardly denied his roots, and could drop in a gag during a talk show appearance. If asked, he would talk about the issues involving his religion. After all, this was the guy who tried to make a film about the concentration camps; "The Day the Clown Cried." Apparently during some interview promoting the show, he was asked about Israel and expressed his support.
This was enough to provoke death threats. As a result, he accepted the assigned bodyguards.
That's my most vivid image of Jerry Lewis. He had just finished performing for hundreds upon hundreds of people in a big Broadway theater. They roared with laughter and gave him an ovation. They left the theater smiling. And he left with bodyguards.
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