Lewis Jerry - Dean & me: (a love story)

Table of Contents

For Dani, the young lady who is the air in my lungs,
and her young mother, who is the beat in my heart,
thank you both for getting me to here.

PHILIPPE HALSMAN, LIFE, 1951

PROLOGUE: BREAKING UP

MOST OF THE OUTSIDE WORLD WASNT AWARE OF THE GULF that had grown between us, and we were still making money like the U.S. Mint. But there was no getting around it: The time had come to call it a day. In the coolest, most practical way, Dean and I decided to go out on top.

On Tuesday night, July 24, 1956ten years to the day after our first appearance together at Skinny DAmatos 500 Club in Atlantic City we played our last three shows, ever, at the Copacabana, on East Sixtieth Street in Manhattan.

The evening quickly took on the magnitude of a great event. After all, for the past decade, Martin and Lewis had delighted America and the world. Wed been loved, idolized, sought after. And now we were shutting the party down.

The celebrity guest list for this night of nights grew and grew. With about a half hour before our first show, Dean and I had very little to say to each other. It was going to be a rough night, but we both knew we couldnt allow ourselves to be sloppy or unprofessional. So our plan was to have fun, if possible, and to do the best show we knew how to do.

I walked across the hall to my partners suite at about 7:35 for absolutely no reason other than to announce that I needed ice. Dean always had ice. I walked over to the bar and put some in my glass. He gave me a knowing glancehe felt what I felt and we didnt have to expound on it. I managed to get myself to the door and croaked out, Have a good show, Paul. (That was his middle name, what I always called him.) He said, You too, kid.

I walked out into the hallway and thought my heart would break. I was losing my best friend and I didnt know why. And if I had known why, would that have made a difference? I now think that since it had to happen, at least it happened quickly. When husbands and wives break up, it can take years, or they stay together for all the wrong reasons.

Dean and I knew we had to get on with our lives, and being a team no longer worked. As sentimental as it sounds, we both had the hand of God on us until even He said, Enough!

I think for the most part we understood what was happening. We were just scared, and didnt want anyone to know. Scared about where we were going and what we would be doing. We had become accustomed to our fabulous lifestyle. Would the autograph-seekers still seek? Could we do anything without each other? Would we be accepted as anything other than what we had been?

Dean had this uncanny way of making everything bad look like it wasnt all that bad. It wasnt denial, it was that he never had sweaty palms. No matter how things turned out, Dean could make it seem as if that was the way hed planned it.

One look at my face and you knew despair... joy... happiness... sorrow. My dad called me Mr. Neonand he was right. I always had to let everyone know what I was feeling. Anything else and I felt like a liar. Truth was my greatest ally. Painful, yes, but I found it was the only way for me. Dean could lie if it would spare someones feelings. I had difficulty with that.

Well, however we felt, my partner and I still had three final shows to do at the Copa, and it was getting to be that time.

I always went on before Dean, did my shtick and introduced him. He would hang back on the top level of the Copa, greeting people and making nice while I was out there, setting them up for his entrance. But this night, when it came time for me to say, And heres my partner, Dean Martin, the words stuck in my throat. The audience knew it was the last night I would ever say those words, and the air was filled with a kind of exquisite trauma, the star-studded crowd hopingperhapsfor a last-minute reprieve.

It was an eerie and uncertain feeling out there. I wasnt sure myself if the powerful vibrations in the Copa were good or bad. We had to do that first show to find out a lot of things.

So Dean strolled out, as he always did... cool, relaxed-lookingbut I knew my partner. His eyes told me he was feeling the same pain and uncertainty that I was.

We shook hands, as we always did, but this time a murmur swept through the audience. Maybe there is a chance?

It vibrated through the entire building.

Dean did his three songs, uneventfully, pretty much the way hed always done them, and out I came to go into our routine. Its nice that you cut down your songs to only eleven numbers. I thought Id have to shower again! It dont say outside, Dean Martin, period... it says Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis! Did you forget, or are you anxious to be out of work?

All of that was what we always did, only on this night every joke had too much significance. We forged ahead, knowing that soon we would be finished: Only two more shows to go, and it would be over.

We barreled through what we had to do and came to the last song in the act, Pardners.

You and me, well always be pardners,

You and me, well always be friends.

Now, singing that number could have been a mistake, because once we got into it, that audience changed from uncertain to sure; it was over, and they were watching everything but the burial. We finished the song, and the applause was deafening.

We finished the second show, and the third went on at 2:30 A.M. sharp. This time Dean and I both knew: This is it! The last time... never again... all over...

It felt like being choked without hands on your throat. But here it is. Its 2:25, and Dean is standing at his place at the foot of the stairs, stage right... and Im standing at the foot of the stairs, stage left. The Copa Girls go by us as they finish the opening production number, and as they pass, they too are teary-eyed. Rather than rush to their dressing rooms, they stand along the staircases on both sides of the stage to watch. They all felt the death knell, and they wanted to be a part of it.

So we went on and killed them, and killed ourselves as well. We were both shattered by the time we got to Pardners, and we didnt even do it too terribly well, but we got through it, and as that audience rose to celebrate all we had ever done, they knew it was over. There were shouts, tears, applause. It was midnight on New Years Eve all over againand in July, yet.

Dean and I both headed for the elevator, waving off all comers. When the door closed, we put our arms around each other, just letting go the floodgates. We arrived at our floor and got out, and thank God, no one was around. We went to our suites and closed the doors. I grabbed the phone and dialed Dean.

Hey, pally, he said. Howre you holdin up?

I dont know yet. I just want to saywe had some good times, didnt we, Paul?

Therell be more.

Yeah, well, take care of yourself.

You too, pardner.

We hung up and closed the book on ten great yearswith the exception of the last ten months. They were horrific. Ten months of pain and anger and uncertainty and sorrow.

Now it was time to pick up the pieces. Not so easy....

CHAPTER ONE

IN THE AGE OF TRUMAN, EISENHOWER, AND JOE MCCARTHY, we freed America. For ten years after World War II, Dean and I were not only the most successful show-business act in historywe were history.