Jerry Lewis not ready to retire

Our good friend Johnny Kats at the Las Vegas Sun has read the GQ interview with Jerry Lewis and he has put together a great summary of the interview:

 

GQ has dedicated much of its August edition, on newsstands this week, to the art of comedy, and a healthy measure of that edition is focused on an 85-year-old Las Vegan.

In a lengthy, yet rapid-fire, profile, writer Amy Wallace pulls the curtain back on a Jerry Lewis that seems hardly apt to retire from any phase of his career or life. She spent 11 hours, total, with Lewis in assembling the story, and what is unearthed should come as little surprise to anyone who has observed Lewis over the past couple of years.

The still-vibrant entertainer who supposedly “retired” from his MDA Telethon back in May (an account of that I find impossible to swallow) is juggling several projects for this year and into next.

The documentary that filmmaker Gregg Barson has been filming for the past three years, titled “Method to the Madness of Jerry Lewis," is due this fall on Encore.

He is in talks with John Travolta, a reality confirmed by both, to remake the 1965 film “The Family Jewels.”

He is planning to launch another telethon in Australia, where he fell dizzy last month and had to cancel an appearance on behalf of that country’s Muscular Dystrophy Foundation. The MDF is unaffiliated with the Muscular Dystrophy Association.

He is working on a screenplay, the details of which are being kept secret, and is to star in the independent film “Max Rose,” which is not yet financed.

And, to fill out his schedule, he is working on a stage adaptation of “The Nutty Professor,” which he plans to direct and is scored by Marvin Hamlisch.

To reiterate: This does not sound like a man who would find hosting a whittled-down, six-hour MDA Telethon at all taxing. More on that later, but in the GQ story, Lewis did say this of his commitment to helping children suffering from illness: “I understand naysayers. His kids. But they are mine, and I am too far into it to step back.”

More highlights from the interview:

• From Martin Scorsese: “He makes many people uncomfortable. He doesn’t censor himself as a performer, a filmmaker or a public figure -- which is difficult to accept for many people. I know there have been some books about him and some recognition in the past few years, but I think Americans are still coming to terms with Jerry and his astonishing artistry. It’s as if they had to invent a new place for it, a new category.” Scorsese also added, “Jerry Lewis is still ahead of his time.”

• From Jerry Seinfeld, a comment drawn from the “Method to Madness” documentary: “If you don’t get Jerry Lewis, you don’t really understand comedy, because he is the essence of it.”

• Speaking of today’s young comics, Lewis describes Will Ferrell as, “A wonderful technician. He does the script well. And he won’t be here in eight years. He is a very good mechanic, but never expect a mechanic to hold you in his arms. He doesn’t know how to do that. And you need that quality to have longevity. Of Seinfeld, he says he “has a heart on both sides.” And Chris Rock is “very, very, powerful. He comes from the place it’s supposed to come from. My great-grandchildren will enjoy him.”

• In one of his characteristic conversational U-turns, Lewis insists that John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe never had an affair. As he stresses, “I’m telling you what I know because I did. OK?” Asked what that experience was like, Lewis says, “It was … long. I was crippled for a month. (Pause) And I thought Marlene Dietrich was great!”

• Lewis was treated by a “shrink,” for a time. The doctor told him it would be a mistake to undergo further analysis. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. The doctor told him, “Well, if we peel away the emotional and psychological difficulties, your pain may leave, but it’s also quite possible that you won’t have a reason to be funny anymore.”

• Lewis took so much Percodan and Numbutal in the 1970s that, to him, 1973 to 1977 are a complete blackout. This covers his famed appearance in the 1976 Labor Day Telethon in which Dean Martin strode onstage for a surprise on-air reunion orchestrated by Frank Sinatra.

• Lewis’ name in Scorsese’s “The King of Comedy” was originally Robert Langford, but Lewis persuaded Scorsese to instead name the talk show host character Jerry Langford. He told the director, “Everywhere we go in New York, your construction workers and cab drivers will validate that it’s Jerry.” He adds, “And that’s what happened. If you remember, in the movie, whenever I was in the street: ‘Hey, Jerry,’ ‘Yo, Jer.’ ‘Hey there, you old schmuck.’ It worked great for us. Whenever I went to New York, that’s what happened. It still happens.”

• Wants to live to be 101, to beat George Burns, a promise he made to Burns once during an MDA Telethon. “It was a joke,” Lewis says. “That’s all it was.” A pause, then, “Now it’s no joke.”

That’s how the GQ story ends, but not Lewis’.

 

Alan Hess on John Lautner, Mid-Century Modern architect

We are taking a brief break from our regular posting about Las Vegas history because our good friend Alan Hess has written a terrific article on mid-century modern architect, John Lautner.

As Mr. Hess is a big supporter of Las Vegas' mid-century modern history, it seems only fitting that we support Mr. Hess.

 

 

Click here to find out more!

 

John Lautner, who died in 1994, would have marked his 100th birthday this month. Author Alan Hess looks at the long roster of great Los Angeles architects and says Lautner stands out more than any other as the mirror of this city.

Hess writes that Lautner's work and the city Lautner called home for 56 years share the same rebellious soul. "Both have the courage to be unorthodox and defy conformity, and both have suffered for it," Hess writes. "Critics still skewer Lautner and L.A. alike as undisciplined and self-indulgent."

The truth, Hess writes, can be seen in the Lautner houses, which play out across the Southland as something of a universal dream, a quest for the good life under the California sun.

Commentary: John Lautner, the quintessential L.A. architect

Visit the Nevada Test Site!

 

 

 

Sixty years ago it was known for its above ground testing.  Today, it is a historical site and you can now visit the Nevada Proving Grounds where much of that history was made:

There was a time when a mushroom cloud billowing over the Nevada desert was celebrated as a symbol of American strength — and, about 75 miles southeast in Las Vegas, as a terrific tourist draw.

In the 1950s, casinos threw "dawn parties," where gamblers caroused until a flash signaled the explosion of an atomic bomb at the Nevada Test Site. Tourism boosters promoted the Atomic Cocktail (vodka, brandy, champagne and a dash of sherry) and pinups such as Miss Atomic Blast, who was said to radiate "loveliness instead of deadly atomic particles."

Sixty years after the first atmospheric tests here, the 1,375-square-mile site continues to be a tourist magnet, though of a far different nature. Thousands of people each year sign up months in advance to see what is essentially a radioactive ghost town.

The tourists ride in an air-conditioned bus through part of the site, but it might as well be a time machine. The era feted is one of Soviet bad guys, grade-school air raid drills and warnings delivered in capital letters: Visitors are welcomed by the sign ACCESS LIMITED.

There's no mention of the thousands of "downwinders" poisoned by radiation, or the 1.6 trillion gallons of water under the site that have been contaminated. In videos, the end of testing in 1992 is spoken of in near-mournful tones. The tour's intent, said spokesman Darwin Morgan, is to explain what unfolded on the site, not the fallout from it.

Today, 1,000 or so employees — down from the 10,000 who once worked here — mainly carry out less exotic tasks: training first responders, burying toxic waste. The tours wend through these areas, but the bomb refuse remains the star attraction.

The outing has changed little since it was launched in the 1980s, when the tour was sometimes canceled due to "program activities" (as in, explosions).

That may explain its rigidity, beginning with the packet each tour-goer is mailed. No cameras, it said. Or cellphones, BlackBerrys, binoculars, laptops or recorders. If contraband is discovered, THE TOUR MAY BE TERMINATED.

One morning last month, a tour bus departed about 8 a.m. from Las Vegas for the 90-minute drive to the site. En route tourists watched a low-budget video, which included a shot of a human arm disappearing into the side of a steer.

Four test site steers were "fistulated," or given a surgical opening so scientists could reach in to take samples from their stomachs. One of them, named Big Sam, often appeared at fairs.

When the bus pulled up to what is now called the Nevada National Security Site, guide John Robson pointed out two pens where protesters had been detained. They resembled the pens out at bomb sites where pigs had been corralled to test the effects of radiation.

Robson, a retired test site engineer, stepped off the bus to grab some paperwork. "Several of the places we go want records of who's been there," he said. Then a guard in desert fatigues walked through the bus to check tourists' badges. He was armed.

For more on the story:

http://tinyurl.com/3c6hznq

 

Photo credit:  Life Magazine