Memories of Jerry Lewis

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A week has passed since Jerry Lewis died. Since then, I’ve visited YouTube to watch some of his interviews and snippets of his best-remembered portrayals.

 

I just couldn’t bring myself to sit down and write this until I’d done that. I needed to reconnect deeply before I put fingers to keyboard to do this.

 

At age 10 or 11, in 1962 or so, I discovered Jerry Lewis. By the time The Nutty Professor was released in June 1963, I was a die-hard Lewis fan. I had zero doubt that he was the funniest human being alive.

 

And I had zero doubt about something else: in his earliest portrayals (when he was part of Martin and Lewis and later, in his solo earlier movies) he was “channeling” exaggerated aspects of my seemingly-insurmountable challenge:

 

Heart of gold, elbows and knees akimbo, Jerry Lewis portrayed a flailing, fledgling grownup, just trying to get his balance so he could walk, talk and act more like a regular, reliable, solid person than he felt himself capable of being in front of others.

 

I was at the same awkward stage as a teenager.  I felt like a freak. I thought I was all alone in the world, harboring noble thoughts and great plans but feeling utterly incapable of transforming them from dreams into deeds.

 

It was during these years that I carefully crafted my sense of humor. I needed it. Without it, I simply would not have survived.

 

I studied and mirrored Jerry Lewis, his characters and the man himself. I taught myself how to do pratfalls by watching him. I thought if I made people laugh, I would be more in control. 

 

It was uncontrolled laughter (derision, name-calling) that I dreaded, should my “secret” be discovered. (I was, and am, transgender, but there was no name for it back then. And the terms that were tossed about in the 60’s and 70’s pushed me deeply into hiding.)

 

What I loved most about Jerry Lewis, aside from his enormous talent, was the fact that he was a very serious man.  Offstage, you’d never know he was the same guy. He was brilliant, talented, accomplished, driven, and innovative. And he was enormously kind (most of the time). His employees (the ones I met later, when I lived and worked in Hollywood) adored him.

 

I knew that, inside myself, I was capable of (eventually) succeeding, even though I felt (at that time) like the inept people he portrayed, because I was so reluctant to step out, take the stage, and announce my intentions. I thought if I did, I’d end up flat on my face (like his characters).  Inside, I was serious, too. Serious about being a writer and about making a difference.

 

In Jerry Lewis the Man (not “That Kid”, as he called his onstage character), I saw an adult version of who I might become.  I wanted to grow from inept to masterful–and he portrayed both equally well, depending on which side of the camera he was on.

 

My nickname in junior high was Jer. Yes, Jer.  My friends called me Jer until Star Trek beamed me up in 1966 and DeForest Kelley launched my writing career in 1968. That’s when I segued from slapstick comedy to hoppin’ galaxies…where my life story leaned again toward the miraculous, because of the attention and interactions of still another wonderful actor.

 

Because of Jerry Lewis, I became the official Junior Chairman of the Muscular Dystrophy Association in Kittitas County for several years, responsible for placing and retrieving donation canisters and writing MD-related pieces for the local newspaper.

 

Because of Jerry Lewis’s comic portrayals of “Hey, I’m doing my best!”, I developed empathy and compassion for people who have to work harder to make it in this world because of other peoples’ perceived notions of their “otherness” or  “ineptitude”.

 

Because of Jerry Lewis, I think I’m a more resilient, happier person than I would otherwise be.

 

Heck, without Jerry Lewis I may not have lived long enough to see Star Trek or meet DeForest Kelley.

 

It was really very touch-and-go for me back then. I was a mess emotionally–alternately depressed, angry, and anxious.

 

Jerry Lewis helped me get through depression, self-loathing, and every other challenge that a young teenager goes through.

 

He also helped me dream big because his clumsy, clueless characters always did okay in the end.  I felt certain that, if they could succeed, I could too!

 

Jerry Lewis gave me hope for a brighter, better tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Kris Smith

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