A Jones For Jerry He’s Not Everyone’s Cup Of Tea, But For One Fan, Jerry Lewis Is Kind, Generous And Hilarious

“Hey Laaa-dyyy … “

That’s the message Jerry Lewis left on my voice mail. Yes, the Jerry Lewis. Showbiz legend. Star of dozens of movies. The man who made Entertainment Weekly’s list of the top film directors of all time. The guy who has raised a gazillion dollars to fight muscular dystrophy on his annual telethons.

And most recently, everybody’s favorite devil. (He’s bringing that character to Spokane Tuesday with the traveling production of the Broadway hit “Damn Yankees.”)

I don’t make it a habit to name-drop, but Jerry Lewis called me up last December and left his trademark “Hey Laaa-dyyy!” greeting on my answering machine after I wrote him a gushing fan letter when I saw “Damn Yankees” in Seattle.

OK, so I’m nuts about Jerry Lewis. My friends think I’m just plain nuts. The Spokesman-Review’s theater critic demanded: “What is it you like about this guy anyway?”

I understand that not everyone appreciates his cross-eyed, buck-tooth brand of humor. Let me explain how I developed a jones for Jerry.

Some people talk sports or quantum physics. I’m a student of pop culture. Hang Newsweek if I can lay my hands on People or The National Enquirer.

And Jerry Lewis has long been firmly planted on the pop culture landscape - a show-business survivor who has re-invented himself more times than Madonna.

I discovered Lewis not by watching “The Nutty Professor” or any of his other movies.

No, I first stumbled onto Jerry Lewis while channel surfing one Labor Day weekend 17 years ago. On his annual telethon, he was incredibly, almost embarrassingly, goofy. He seemed willing to do absolutely anything to get a laugh out of the audience. I appreciated his off-the-wall style.

Later, when I saw old footage of his routines with Dean Martin, I marveled at how he screwed up his face, did dangerous pratfalls or spoke in a high-pitched nasal whine. So, the material isn’t Oscar Wilde. It’s more like taking a sledgehammer to your funny bone.

Lewis’ long-running “Hey, Laaadyyy” gag originated on a live television broadcast of “The Colgate Comedy Hour,” the show he hosted with Martin in the ‘50s.

“Dean and I were in a scene with this lady and she wasn’t listening to me. I was 9 years old and screaming for my life,” Lewis said in a recent phone interview. “It’s one of those things that stuck. I can’t really explain why.”

He has no trouble explaining why he’s stuck it out so long in such a tough business.

“Do I like performing in front of a live audience? How about love? Like just isn’t enough,” he said.

That makes sense since Lewis made his stage debut at age 5, singing “Brother Can You Spare a Dime?” At the time, his parents were vaudeville players working the hotel circuit in the Catskills.

In his early 20s, Lewis developed a shtick lip-syncing to records while acting wacky. One night, he made an impromptu appearance with a velvet-voiced crooner and an act was born.

Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis were together for more than 10 years, and during the height of their popularity they were the No. 1 comedy act in the country.

They made 17 movies and appeared on numerous television shows and radio programs together.

Their partnership ended on a sour note, but Lewis picked himself up and went on to star, direct and produce dozens of films in the ‘50s, ‘60s and early ‘70s. As a director, he pioneered the use of video playback while filming on the set.

Lewis virtually disappeared in the ‘70s during a battle with prostate cancer and an addiction to Percodan. (He had started taking those prescription painkillers after being injured in a pratfall.)

Just when Hollywood had all but written him off, Lewis re-emerged in 1983 with a critically lauded dramatic performance in Martin Scorsese’s “King of Comedy.” In the film, he played Johnny Carson-like talk-show host Jerry Langford, the target of an obsessed fan named Rupert Pupkin (who was played with annoying glee by Robert DeNiro).

So far, Lewis hasn’t met any real-life Rupert Pupkins.

“Nine out of 10 times, the people who approach me are very warm and very considerate, very respectful and they let you know that you’ve touched their lives,” he said. “But I love to window-shop and people just won’t let you do that. I guess that’s not too high a price to pay for all the joy I’ve experienced giving joy to others.”

While most of his peers have retired, a couple of years ago Lewis’ career got another boost that seemed almost heaven-sent.

Lewis was asked to play the devilish Mr. Applegate in the rousing Broadway musical “Damn Yankees,” a role he said he had been training for his entire life.

He’s now in the second year of a five-year tour schedule and shows no signs of slowing down.

Here’s a guy who’s 70 years old. He could be sitting at home, counting his money or playing golf every day, but he still is truly excited about what he does.

“I’m a blessed man,” he said. “I wake up every morning and think that I’ve got to wait 12 hours before I can go to the theater. Every time I go out there, I’m meeting 2,000 new people for the first time and I’m auditioning for them.”

So, Jerry Lewis is not everyone’s cup of Earl Grey. He can accept that. He’s willing to take the heat for being difficult, especially when it comes to the media.

As he said, “I’ve never been one to watch what I say. And when you get to be successful, you no longer have the right to get up on the wrong side of the bed or be a little less than highly spirited.”

That’s no apology, mind you.

“I like what I’ve become and I have regard for my personal esteem. I got here the long and hard way,” he said. “If I come across a reporter who is incompetent, I’m going to tell him so, and he’s not going to like hearing that from someone he thinks is a buffoon. I might be paid to act the fool, but I won’t be treated like one.”

One of the things that keeps him grounded is his relationship with his daughter, Dani. His daughter and wife, Sam, have been traveling with him.

“In this business, you’re constantly reminded that you’re larger than life,” he said. “But when you have this wonderful 4-1/2-year-old daughter, she takes you to a place where you’re smaller than life. It keeps you on your toes and reminds you that you’re just a daddy and a normal man.”

Jerry Lewis, a normal man? Not hardly.

For me, Lewis looms large. Just name any Hollywood icon who would take the time to personally call one of his fans.

I had been at the “Damn Yankees” press conference last year in Seattle, and I got a huge kick out of listening to Lewis gab about a wide range of topics. He talked about everything from the guys he used to hang out with in Hollywood (Tony Curtis, Jeff Chandler) to modern technology (he doesn’t like computers).

When it was all over, I realized I had forgotten to ask him to do his signature “Hey Laaa-dyyy.” I wrote him a note and told him that if he called my voice mail with that bit, I would treasure the message forever.

Guess what? He called.

I must have played that message for everyone I know and they all had the same reaction. Everybody laughed.

As I said before, the man will do absolutely anything to get a laugh.

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: 2 Photos (1 color)

MEMO: This sidebar appeared with the story: HEARING JERRY You, too, can get an earful of Jerry Lewis. To hear the message Jerry left reporter Leslie Kelly, call The Spokesman-Review’s Cityline at 458-8800 and select category 2028. In North Idaho, call (208) 765-8811, category 2028. Normal long-distances charges apply for calls from outside the area.