Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1963)

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“Sorry, there's no story,” Jerry Lewis told me. “I can’t discuss that subject with you at all.” As a writer, I just couldn’t drop a story that easily. I had to try a little harder. So, matter of factly, I asked Jerry if it would be okay if I just hung around for the day to see if I could pick up some information. Jerry said, “Sure, come. I have to do some things for the Muscular Dystrophy campaign.” Surprisingly enough, my assignment was directly connected with that. I’d been told to get Jerry to talk about his ten years as chairman of the Muscular Dystrophy Association. Find out about the kids he’d helped. Ask how he got interested in dystrophy in the first place: For publicity? By request? Had anyone in his family had the dreaded disease? The assignment had seemed a simple one. But when Jerry refused to talk, I knew it was going to be tough. That day, it led me all over New York City. The following week, I chased clues to Hollywood. But the hardest, most forbidding journey of all was the final one: the unchartered journey deep into the famous comedian’s secret heart. My day with Jerry began on a fabulously furnished bus that had been lent to him by Paul Cohen, president of the Tuck Tape Company. He was seated with Jerry at a table by the bus’ big picture window. Jerry was busy making faces at the people clustered around outside. He’d make a face, grab his camera (Continued on page 77)