The Shtick Shift
Watching Jerry Lewis's Tears-and-Laughter Marathon Means Miles to Go Before We Sleep

By Peter Carlson
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, September 5, 2006

Jerry Lewis's annual Labor Day weekend telethon is a noble event that has raised more than $1.3 billion for the Muscular Dystrophy Association over the past 40 years, funding research, clinics and camps.

It's also a schmaltzy, weepy, funny, moving and gloriously goofy vaudeville show, complete with music, comedy, magic, sword fights, balloon sculptures, heart-breaking stories and, of course, Jerry Lewis, who at 80 is as nutty as ever.

Unfortunately, in today's fast-paced, high-pressure, modern life, it's sometimes difficult to find the time to sit down and watch a 20-hour telethon. This year, as a public service, we watched every minute. And we took copious notes.

* * *

Sunday, 10 p.m. Heeeeeeere's Jerry! He's in a tux and he's got a baton and he's conducting the orchestra. He looks thin and healthy.

Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman welcomes the show back to Vegas -- it's been in Hollywood for the past 12 years -- and gives Jerry the key to the city. The audience cheers. "They love you!" Goodman says. "They love you, Jerry, as well they should."

"Hey, isn't that nice!" Jerry says, holding the key aloft. "What am I going to do with the two parking tickets I got? Will this help?"

10:15 p.m. Jerry introduces his first guest. "If you don't try to see this lady at the Colosseum at Caesars Palace, you're nuts!"

Celine Dion appears. She sings "Summertime" and gets a standing ovation. She kisses Jerry. "You look incredible," she says.

Jerry kisses her hand.

"You're kissing my hand," she says.

"I'm kissing your hand and trying to steal your ring," Jerry says. "What a rock!"

"You're kissing my hand and you're touching everybody's heart," she replies.

10:20 p.m. Jerry introduces Ed McMahon, who has co-hosted this telethon for 39 years. Ed, who was recently named "the greatest sidekick of all time" by Entertainment Weekly, looks gaunt but ready for action. The orchestra plays "The Marines' Hymn" and Ed salutes Jerry.

"Marines are not supposed to salute without their headgear on," he says, "but I'll make a exception for you."

"And I'll salute you right back," says Jerry.

11:20 p.m. Jerry introduces his son's rock band, Gary Lewis and the Playboys, which had a hit or two back in the mid-'60s. They sing while gyrating in front of a screen with one of those psychedelic pulsing-amoeba light shows. When they finish, Jerry bounds out onstage, yelling, "That's my kid! My kid! My kid!" The crowd cheers.

Gary says the band performs in Branson, Mo., from April through November.

Jerry is impressed. "Could you let me have $100?" he asks.

11:50 p.m. Jerry introduces Jack Jones, who sings/talks a song dedicated to his daughter, Nicole. "I watched you grow," he sings/talks, "so I could let you go."

We see Nicole in the audience, her lower lip trembling.

Jerry walks to the edge of the stage. He spots Nicole and in the funny high-pitched little-boy voice he used in so many classic movies, sings his own version of her father's heart-felt song: "If I could, you'd have bagels and lox every day . . ."

Monday, 12:04 a.m. It's now Day 2. Jerry introduces comedian Rita Rudner, who lives in Las Vegas but is performing in New York.

"Las Vegas is becoming classier," she says. "We have a ballet company now.

"It's topless, but it's classy."

When Rudner finishes, Jerry plugs her new novel, "Turning the Tables." Then he gazes up at the camera, looking confused.

"Where am I?" he asks. "Why don't I see something?"

"What would you like to see?" asks Ed McMahon.

"I'd like to see naked broads," Jerry says.

"Can I get you a glass of milk?" Ed asks.

12:40 a.m. Jerry introduces Tony Orlando, who's in New York with his band, looking happy and well fed.

"This is for you, Jer," Tony says, then he sings, "You've got to have the heart of a champion."

"Yeah! Tony Orlando!" Jerry cheers when the song ends. "I gotta tell you the truth -- I don't miss Dawn." He smiles, signaling that he's just joking. Then he adds: "Good to see you, you Puerto Rican Jew!"

"I love you!" Tony says.

12:55 a.m. The Village People sing "YMCA" as the audience spells out the letters with their arms.

When they finish, the tote board that's counting the money raised so far goes from $2,973,396 to $3,096,243.

2:40 a.m. Forever Plaid, a bunch of guys in loud plaid tuxedo jackets, announce they will pay tribute to Ed Sullivan by performing an entire Ed Sullivan show in 3 minutes 18 seconds.

Impossible? Not for these guys! They go to it, singing "Lady of Spain" while juggling balls and plates, throwing dog puppets through hula hoops and doing imitations of the Singing Nun and Alvin and the Chipmunks. It's a virtuoso performance and it makes you wonder: Can they do this 20-hour telethon in, say, 18 minutes 27 seconds?

2:55 a.m. Cut to the local feed with fundraisers taking calls at Gallaudet University. WDCW-TV (Channel 50) began the syndicated telethon show an hour late, but the local effort, aided by phone numbers on the screen, brought in more than $1 million in pledges for "Jerry's kids," as he likes to call children with muscular dystrophy. The Muscular Dystrophy Association fights more than 40 neuromuscular diseases, including myasthenia gravis and amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or Lou Gehrig's disease.

4 a.m. The tote board total is $13,225,103. But where is Jerry? He hasn't been seen for over an hour. Is he napping? Is he okay?

4:10 a.m. A guy appears onstage dressed in a bright orange jump suit that holds 18 bicycle horns. Squeezing the horns with his hands, his knees, his elbows and his head, Orange Man plays "Frere Jacques," "Old McDonald Had a Farm," "Mary Had a Little Lamb" and Vivaldi's "Four Seasons." Now, that's entertainment!

4:47 a.m. Four middle-aged women from a show called "Menopause: The Musical" perform a song about night sweats to the tune of the Bee Gees' "Night Fever."

5:15 a.m. Clad in an amazing purple jacket, Barry Manilow sings "I write the songs that make the whole world sing!" while people in the audience wave green glowing lights. For one brief shining moment, we see Jerry waving a green light. He smiles enigmatically but does not speak. What's going on? Speak, Jerry, speak!

5:17 a.m. Comedian Bob Zany, who seems to have replaced Jerry as our host, mentions "Menopause: The Musical" and announces that he is writing a show called "Enlarged Prostate: The Musical."

5:50 a.m. The tote board is up to $16,316,166.

7:12 a.m. On the screen is a photo of a Vegas street sign: Jerry Lewis Way. Emcee Tom Bergeron notes that the street intersects with Dean Martin Boulevard. True telethon fans know the cosmic significance of this information. Jerry and Dean were, of course, the wildly popular '50s comedy duo, but they had a falling out and didn't speak for 20 years -- until Frank Sinatra brought Martin to the 1976 telethon and the two men buried the hatchet.

But where is Jerry now? This is his show. Has it been hijacked? Free Jerry! Free Jerry!

7:55 a.m. Jerry appears! He's in his tux, but his bow tie is gone. Quickly, he introduces Jack Jones. Once again, Jones sings/talks that song to his daughter. Once again, Nicole is in the audience, biting her lip to keep from crying. Is this a rerun? A flashback? A hallucination? Or have we just been awake too long?

8:15 a.m. Two elderly gents wearing comical conical hats topped with tassels -- members of the Tall Cedars of Lebanon Masonic order -- stop by to deliver a check for $300,000. There's a drumroll and the tote board rolls up to $19,059,939. The crowd cheers.

8:18 a.m. Knights in armor gallop in on horseback. They throw javelins. They joust. They knock each other off their horses. They whack each other with medieval battleaxes. They fight with swords. Wow! It's a heck of a show! But it's just not the same without Jerry. Come back, Jerry, come back. (By the way, where's Ed? He has disappeared, too. Is he out looking for Jerry?)

9:20 a.m. A guy's blowing up balloon after balloon. He blows them up with his mouth. He blows them up with his nose. He twists them into animals and keeps blowing up more. Balloons are bouncing around the stage. "This is Las Vegas," he explains. "You can never have too much latex in Las Vegas."

9:40 a.m. A guy from Citgo comes by with a check for a million bucks. The tote board chugs up to $22,052,220. "Wow!" says Zany. "Wow!"

10:40 a.m. The Universal Cheerleaders Association charges onstage, jumping, flipping, somersaulting. They throw each other up in the air, then -- and this is key -- they catch each other. When they stop flying, they hand over a donation of $25,000. Wild cheers, standing ovation.

11:15 a.m. Ed is back! And he brought Larry King, who brought his wife, who proceeds to read a children's book called "The Runaway Bunny" to violin accompaniment.

12:30 p.m. Watching yet another sad story of another very sick kid, we start getting weepy. We pick up the phone, make a pledge, feel virtuous.

1:55 p.m. Jerry is back!! He's looking askance at the Tall Cedars guys with the funny hats. "I hope you know how difficult it is to look at you," he tells them.

Ah, this is the Jerry we love, the guy who's liable to say anything at any moment.

A few minutes later, the head of the firefighters union hands him a check for $3 million and Jerry scrunches up his face as if in great pain and says, "There's a mean streak in this man. He loves to see what he can do to my brain and my body when he brings me these numbers." Then he starts waxing spiritual. "We must never forget to thank God that we are alive and okay."

2:30 p.m. Jerry introduces a guy with a green dragon puppet named Scorch. Scorch looks around at the auditorium and asks, "Doesn't this look like the Sistine Chapel designed by Sears?" Soon, the dragon starts flirting with a woman in the audience. "She's my wife!" Jerry bellows.

3 p.m. "Welcome to hour 18 of the 19 -- whatever year it is -- telethon," Jerry says. He's getting a little giddy. He greets a woman from Safeway who has come bearing a huge donation. "You're very cute," he says. "You're not hitting on me are you?"

"No," she says.

A moment later, he's sidling up to one of his co-hosts, Jann Carl of "Entertainment Tonight."

"You know, there's something about you that I love," he says, "but I can't put my finger on it."

She laughs.

"If I told you that you had a beautiful body," he asks, "would you hold it against me?"

The man is pure, unchained id.

5:10 p.m. "Mammy! Mammy!" It's hour 20 and Jerry's onstage, belting out "Mammy," accompanied by his full array of rubber-faced grins and grimaces. "I'd walk a million miles for one of your smiles. Ma-a-a-a-ammy!"

It's delightfully, shamelessly over the top, and it reminds you that Lewis, like his father and mother, was a borscht circuit vaudevillian.

Sucking wind, he turns to the orchestra. "My band!" he says. The crowd cheers.

"Up!" he commands. The orchestra stands. So does the cheering crowd.

5:35 p.m. The head of the firefighters union returns to deliver the final chunk of the $23.5 million the firefighters raised for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. Jerry hugs him. "I love you," he says.

The orchestra plays a fanfare and the tote board rolls over to its final tally -- $61,013,855. It's another record!

Confetti rains down. Jerry chokes up.

"Thank you for hope," he says. "Thank you for life. I carry the torch for them. So thank you for them."

He walks to the center of the stage and sits on a stool. "This is a hard song to sing," he says. "but it's been the request of my kids since 1962. . . . I can't stand doing it until I have to."

It's a poignant moment and he can't resist ruining it. He takes a big slug of water, then spits it out. "You have no idea how good that feels," he says. Then he does it again.

"When you walk through the storm," he sings, "hold your head up high . . ."

It's the telethon's theme song and when he gets to the end, he belts it out like Ethel Merman: "You'll nev-er walk a-LONE!!!

"Thank you," he says. "Good night." And he walks off.

The 2006 Jerry Lewis MDA telethon: It's inspiring, uplifting, absurd, tacky and very American.

And now, thank God, it's over.