Today is Labor Day, and it has been only a couple of weeks since we lost the man who, for millions, was associated with this holiday for so many years: Jerry Lewis. He founded and hosted the Muscular Dystrophy Telethon, which raised almost two and a half billion dollars over a forty-five-year span! The money was used, among other things, to fund research on the dreaded disease. It saddens me that there will soon be a generation who has never experienced the Labor Day Telethon, which always began the Sunday night before and lasted until approximately the same time on Monday evening.
The first time I watched the Telethon, I was very young and impressionable and was able to absorb the full experience. For approximately twenty-four hours, I joined other Americans in fighting one of the “heartache(s) and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to”: muscular dystrophy. I enjoyed the many celebrity acts of song and dance and other sources of entertainment. Then, there was the appeal for money and the explanation of what that money could do for the poor victims of this scourge. And then, there were the kids themselves. Jerry Lewis was able to put a face on this disability. With the many interviews and appearances of adorable youngsters, who through some cosmic fluke, had been deprived of a normal childhood, no longer could we objectify muscular dystrophy as a mere genetic anomaly and a helluva shame for somebody else. He forced us to look at these kids and fall in love with them…see how “normal” they were. I remember shedding many tears. And so did he. He really seemed to love those children, who were dubbed “Jerry’s kids.” Either he really loved them or he was exhibiting some of the finest dramatic ability since that of Sir Lawrence Olivier–a pretty good feat for a comedienne!
And just when we were reaching for the box of tissues to dry our eyes long enough to finish making out our checks, that big dial would change; bells and whistles would sound, signaling that yet another million dollars had been raised. We then felt exuberant and victorious! This wacky comic had given us the impression that we could do anything if we were united.
The hours eventually ticked off, and as Labor Day was ending and we were poised to get back into the day-to-day routine of school or work, the Telethon was over. But unlike most holidays where we felt we had overeaten or over-indulged in some fashion, we felt that we had really accomplished something. And we had. So had he.
In America, celebrity can be a ready pawn for capitalism. The famous person becomes a brand, and if he or she “lends” his or her name to another brand, say, tennis shoes, the other brand’s sales can skyrocket. The celebrity has the potential to make a fortune for himself and for the company that he endorses. What a blessed thing to see fame used so constructively and so altruistically! Would that other famous people would do as this outlandish comedienne did! Rest in peace, Jerry Lewis.
