Leading With My Chin

on Jay Leno’s memoir

- Gerald Alper

When Johnny Carson, at the prompting of his talent scout, got his first look at the new, young comic at LA’s famed Comedy Store, he delivered this characteristically blunt appraisal:

You’re not ready; too much attitude and not enough jokes. Attitude will carry you only so far. You need more material.

It wasn’t what Jay Leno wanted to hear, but he knew intuitively, immediately, what Johnny Carson was talking about:

If I spotted an attractive young woman sitting in the audience, wearing a colorful feather in her hair, I might say: ‘nice feather, if you’re a duck.’

It would get a laugh if he was working at Lenny’s on the Turnpike, the club that gave him his very first gig. As a teenage standup comedian- but could never earn him a ticket to the hottest TV show in America — the Holy Grail of aspiring young comics: The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. For the next year and a half, Jay Leno, who wrote his own material; removed the padding, dialed back the attitude, and added only his primo jokes.

When the call came, finally, from The Tonight Show; he was more than ready. Carson liked what he saw, called him over to his desk for a chat and invited him back again and again and again. Jay Leno would become one of the most frequently invited guests in the history of late night television.

Leading With My Chin (written with his friend and Esquire editor, Bill Zehme) is essentially the story of how a self described goofball cutup with more than a touch of (undiagnosed) dyslexia, from Andover Massachusetts, became Johnny Carson’s ultimate successor.

As such, it is a smorgasbord of over-the-top showbiz stories. But what stories! At 9, his teacher tells the class a scary legend about some of Robin Hood’s men being captured and, as punishment, boiled. This did not sit well with Leno. He raised his hand, “Tuck wasn’t boiled.” The teacher, puzzled by the unsuspected objection, enquires, “why not?” Leno replied, “because he’s a fryer.” Impressed by his unsuspected wit, his remark is told and retold by one teacher after another (and thus a comedy legend is born.)

One day, his English Teacher comes upon Jay in the corridor in the midst of entertaining his friends with amusing stories (as he was wont to do). Struck with a sudden inspiration, she called Jay aside, “ Jay, I have an idea. You’re failing English because you never hand in your assignments. How about you write down some of your stories, if they’re halfway good, I’ll consider it as a completed assignment and grade it.” It’s an offer he can’t refuse. Jay writes down some stories, reads them to the class, who laugh appreciatively. The paper is not only accepted as an authentic, completed assignment; it is graded as an A (the very first he’d ever received.)

Fast forward: he first begins performing (as a teenager) with a “funny guy,” named Gene Braunstein . They billed themselves as Gene and Jay’s Unique and Original Comedy. The place where they debuted their comedy act was called The Nameless Coffeehouse, in Harvard Square: “for the first time ever, Gene and I performed a bit we called The Loan Arranger. The simple premise: Tanto goes to the bank to take out a loan. I play Tanto:

Me want loan.

Yes, sir; I’m the loan arranger.

You Lone Ranger?

No, no…the loan arranger.

Lone Ranger?

No; the loan arranger. I arrange loans.

“It was that bad, but it was our first time.” Well, it made me laugh.

As a backup plan, Jay considers college. The problem: “College was a mystery to me, it was something I was supposed to do, but I had no idea how to do it. Unfortunately, my high school average couldn’t have been lower. It was like a festival of Fs- placing my learning potential on the scale of Intelligence Impaired and Hapless Moron. For some disastrous reason I entered the Bentley School of Accounting and Finance, (having a problematic case of dyslexia). But they accepted my tuition money and suddenly I was trapped in a very wrong place.

It didn’t last long. Jay was sitting in a math class that he was flunking miserably. The professor was rambling on about some theorem and suddenly asked Jay a question that completely eluded him, unsurprisingly.

“I jolted awake from a perpetual nap, and, thinking fast, I cleverly turned the tables and said: “first, I have a question for you; I’ve always wondered about this math thing- just the whole concept of it: who is the person responsible?” The professor yelled at me and said, “Mr. Leno, your time wasting techniques are growing tiresome. Why don’t you get out right now.”

Back in Boston, Jay discovered that great starting ground for so many comics: Strip Clubs.

Since the early days of Burlesque, they always had a guy come out and tell jokes between every dancer’s turn on stage. “I worked at the Teddy Bear Lounge, next door to the Playboy Club. The first woman I remember opening for, I remember, was called Ms Cow, in reference to her very obvious attributes.”

“These strippers liked to consider themselves dancers, but they were enormous women- big breasts, big hips- sort of like Russian peasants. On stage they appeared to be very good looking. Off stage, I’d see them without their wigs and scarlet rouge, and I could hardly recognize them. None of them were hookers either. They were just working class women who made upwards of $1000 per week dancing. And, they were truly wonderful characters.”

“My favorites were two nice women called Lilly Pagan, and Anita Mann; as in ‘I-need-a-man.’ They took an immediate liking to me, being this sort of innocent punk, and acting like my protectors. I watched them build their stages, hauling wood, and pounding nails; then setting up big, plexi-glass tubs that looked like champagne glasses. Part of their act was to take naked bubble baths inside the champagne glass, draping their legs over the rim, and contorting themselves in every which way. Then, I do my act in front of these dancers, as they squirmed around behind me.”

“One time, at the Teddy Bear Lounge, I was performing my miserable material; I’d go: ‘hey Nixon, what a jerk.’ (Servicemen, on leave, would scream back, ‘hey, he’s the President! Shut up!’) Then I’d tell a joke about a commercial for an audience applaud school; ‘we’ll teach you how to laugh and applaud like those big-time audiences on TV.’ One guy shouted, “you stink, get off the stage.” Then I heard some splashing behind me. I turned and saw one of the women climb out of the champagne glass naked, dripping with bubbles; she walked over to the guy who was yelling at me, grabbed him by the collar, and just punched him in the face. Blood spurted out of his nose. Then, she climbed back into her glass, and the others yelled in support, ‘yay, go get him, Lilly!”

Jay, still 19 but a fast learner when it comes to comedy, decides he needs a manager. There was only one theatrical manager listed in the Boston directory and Jay went to him.

“ He asked me what line of work I was in. I said I was a comedian. It was as though I’d hit him with a plank.

‘Stand up comedians- there’s no money in that. That’s stupid. That’s nowhere. That’s nowhere.’ Then he looked me up and down and sideways and brightened. ‘Hey, you’re a big kid. You ever wrestled?’

I said, ‘well, I wrestled in high school gym class and at the Y.’

He rubbed his hands together excitedly, “Good! You can be Comedy Man. Here’s what you do. You get in the ring and when you get a guy in a hold, you whisper a joke in his ear. The guy laughs and then you pin him.’

I said, ‘It’s a little different from what I had in mind.’ He didn’t want to hear it.

‘You won’t get anywhere with that stand-up crap!’ Just forget that now. Be Comedy Man and, I’m telling you, you’ll make a fortune! And, the best part is, no one will ever hear the jokes. You don’t have to tell it to the audience, just to the other wrestlers. Just whisper into his ear and he falls down. Boom!’

And then he made me hunch over in a wrestling stance; ‘ lemme just see you growl, like this…grrrrr.’ And amazingly, I did it! So he said, ‘Good! I think we got something here!’

I said, ‘well, let me think about it.’

‘Don’t think too long, because I can find other big, funny guys.’”

In addition to his pursuit of comedy as a sideline, Jay describes his flirtation with acting. He is cast in offbeat films as a minor character. He is especially fond of his role in the Silver Bears, starring (in addition to himself) Michael Caine, Tony Mascia, and Louis Jourdan. If nothing else, the film is noteworthy for being the occasion for one of Jay Leno’s greatest practical jokes.

“Michael and I hit it off from the start. More than anything, we enjoyed playing tricks on Louis Jourdan, the good looking French actor. We were filming at a beautiful mansion overlooking Lake Como that was owned by an astonishingly rich man. He even had a Gutenberg Bible in the living room. Also in the living room was his pet parakeet which endlessly fascinated Louis. Every day, Michael and I would watch him go over to the bird cage and say, ‘elllow leetle parakeet,’ and the bird would just sit there, unmoved.

One day, Michael said, ‘let’s have some fun with Louis!’ We went into town and bought the tiniest micro-cassette recorder imaginable. Then, in my best bird voice, I laid down an ongoing parakeet monologue on the tape. Over and over, I repeated, ‘Bak! Bak! Louis is an asshole! Bak! Bak!’

We hid the recorder in the cage and waited for Louis to come into the room. That day, same as ever, he went over to the cage and said, ‘ellow, leetle parakeet,’ and, as usual, the bird said nothing.

Louis started to walk away. When his back was turned, I reached in and switched on the machine. Suddenly, he heard, ‘Bak! Bak! Louis is an asshole! Bak! Bak!’ He spins around, shocked, then he rushed back to the cage: ‘Leetle bird! How could you say such a thing, please stop this!’

‘Bak! Bak! Louis is an asshole! Bak! Bak!’ He was so upset that he asked us, ‘why is the bird saying this? I’ve done nothing to him!’ Of course Michael and I were dying.

Jay first met Freddie Prinze when he was 17. Even then he was a wild and exciting performer. ‘One night, in a Boston Comedy Club, a guy in the audience asked him to ‘ keep it down; my mom’s in the audience.’ When Freddie ignored him, the guy started yelling at Freddie, who upped the ante. Suddenly, the guy pulled a gun and started shooting at the stage. Freddie dove for cover.

Another time, Jay allowed an exhausted Freddie to crash at his unoccupied, Boston apartment. When he returned, he discovered to his horror, for reasons no one knows, Freddie shot holes in the walls. No one was hurt, but soon after, Freddie would take his own life.

Soon it was time to go west, to the legendary Comedy Store. Where eventually he would meet everyone, and everyone would meet him.

‘Of any of us, Andy Kaufman was the most innovative comedian of that time. Although he never liked being called a comedian, clearly he was the oddest act. Most of us thought he was very funny, but we worried that no one else would get him. We even sort of felt sorry for him because he was so untraditional (of course, his great success proved us wrong.) Still, he never told any jokes, he just became strange in order to get a reaction of any kind, even hostile. There were nights at Catch A Rising Star, when he would be on stage in a sleeping bag; other nights, he would read endless passages from The Great Gatsby in a monotonous voice. Or he would become The Foreign Man character, who spoke flurries of gibberish before doing an astonishingly accurate impersonation of Elvis Presley.

“I actually got to see the very first stand-up audition David Letterman underwent.” He had driven upstate from the midwest in his jalopy. He had red hair, he was shy. And the main thing I noticed about him — he was a wordsmith, something I never was.”

While he seemed to admire my loudness and how comfortable I was on the stage. We became friendly. Once, Jimmy Walker, star of the first great black family comedy, Good Times, hired both of us to write material for him.

I still have a notebook of prospective jokes, written by Dave and myself, which, for one reason or another, were never performed. Here is one of the few which Dave and I agreed, years later, was still funny: (written on the occasion of Sweden announcing that the age of sexual consent was lowered to 14) — Hey, can you imagine coming home from school and your mother asks you your plans for the afternoon? ‘Well, I’m going to have some cookies and then I’m going to Ingrid’s house to get laid.’

Soon after I got to LA I had an agent tell me, I had a face that would frighten children, and I needed to see a plastic surgeon he could recommend. I said, ‘well, I have nephews and nieces who love me and are not frightened of my face. He said, ‘well, you know family.’ So I thought I’d better check it out. I went to the plastic surgeon who very carefully explored my chin from every conceivable angle, ‘like he was scouting a possible location for a multi-million dollar, Steven Spielberg film.’ When he was finished, he presented his vision for me of a re-made, high tech chin. It involved reassigning various sections of my chin, held together by a super thin, soft, and powerful, thin, steel wire. ‘You won’t recognize yourself.’ I said I prefer to recognize myself, rather than not recognize myself. He said, ‘It’ll open all kinds of doors for you that you never dreamed of.’ I said, ‘I think I’ll stick with the one that brought me to the dance.’ He said, ‘ It’s up to you.’ I said, ‘what’ll it cost?’ “Well, it’s not cheap, but I think I could do the whole job for less than four million.’ ‘Will I be able to speak afterwards?’ The question seemed to surprise him. ‘You won’t be able to speak for a year.’ I said, ‘and speaking to you, I can’t make up my mind, if I want to go ahead with my stand-up career or to stop talking for the rest of my life’ (now I didn’t say that but I wish that I had.)

Towards the end of the book, he addresses the oft-asked question about Jay’s wife. Is she a trophy wife? A mystery wife? Is he an unmarried guy? Here’s how Jay Leno addresses and resolves the mystery.

And then, one time, the view from the stage changed my life. In January of 1976, I stood on stage at the Comedy Store. I saw Mavis Nicholson. Dark, attractive, intelligent looking, and she even laughed in the right places, but there was something different going on here. I knew I had to meet her.

We were, and are, opposites in almost every way, which I love. There’s a better balance. At the time we met, Mavis did write comedy, but our worlds would diverge from there on. I don’t consider myself to have much of a spiritual side, but Mavis almost has a 6th sense about people and situations. She has deep focus; and I fly off in 20 directions at once. She reads fifteen books a week, mostly classic literature. I collect classic car and motorcycle books. She loves European travel and I don’t want to go anywhere where people won’t understand my jokes. She can throw out old stuff; I save everything. I have my cars and bikes in the garage; Mavis has no mechanical ability whatsoever, and wouldn’t begin to know how to use a screwdriver. But, most important, she exposes me to things and ideas that never would have otherwise come my way. We handle our separate realms, and work as a genuine team.

Coda

I have a character: Will, I call him; based on a real person. I met him as an aspiring stand-up comedian. I’ve known him since he was a bus-boy and watched from the sidelines for 20 years as he worked his way up to being a brilliantly aphoristic stand-up comedian. His career, unfortunately, leveled off when he became a head waiter. He sends me jokes and comedy skits, and seems to value my feedback. His hope is that, one day, a well-known comedian will think enough of him to actually help him. He thinks of himself as a sardonic humorist in the mold of a contemporary Ambrose Bierce. His problem is that, these days, few people can spell Ambrose Bierce, let alone read him. He idolizes Jay Leno and felt more badly about his recent accident than anyone I know.

Here’s a skit that he wrote as a kind of tribute to Jay Leno -

The Shirt on My Back — (meant to be read on a very cold day in the high-pitched, rapid-fire voice of Jay Leno.)

“Hello, everybody! How ya doin’?” ( I say that to everyone I meet for the first time, even if they have just fallen down). “What’s with this cold wave that we’re havin’? I hate it when I’m cold. I hate it when other people are cold. These days, no matter where you live in the big city, there’s a growing enclave of homeless people. If you carry around a lot of bills and loose change, it doesn’t last long in one of those neighborhoods. But a few weeks ago, I had a revelation. — ‘Can I really be sure they’re investing the money I give them wisely in their future? Of course not!’ So why not give them clothes instead! There’s a little thrift shop one block away from where I live. They have warm, roomy t-shirts (which I love; you’d need a crowbar to pry one of them off me.) They also have these big, flannel, super-comfy shirts; so I buy a bunch of them, wait for a really cold day, and put one on over my comfy t-shirt. I put on my leather motorcycle jacket, and head out. I look for the first authentically cold person I meet (someone who looks like they’re down to their last loin cloth).

So I say, “Hey, how ya doin’?” They wonder what I want.

“I’m okay.”

“You look cold.”

“You get used to it.”

I unzip my leather jacket and begin to unbutton my big flannel shirt.

They panic.

“I’m just sitting here, I didn’t do anything.”

They think I’m an undercover cop about to run them in for loitering.

“I know, relax, you look cold.”

“I’m not cold.”

I take off the big flannel and hold it out to them.

“Why don’t you warm up in this.”

They begin to panic again.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. You look cold.”

They only resist for a second or two. The moment they put it on, they look like they’ve taken a slug of laughing gas. It’s the moment I wait for, so I draw it out.

“Does it fit? How’s the fit?”

“Great! (even if the sleeves reach to their ankles.)

They’re waiting for me to call in the wonderful loan of the flannel shirt. Finally they begin to take it off, reluctantly.

I say, “No! Keep it! It’s yours!”

“What?”

“It’s yours!”

“But you’ll freeze in your long johns.”

“They’re warmer than you think.”

“You live near here?”

“My car is only 10 blocks away.”

“My god! You’re going to freeze!”

They panic; “wait!”

Suddenly, they realize that a very big fish, perhaps the biggest fist of their life, is about to go.

They sometimes say, “I like your watch.”

I’m ready for this.

“That’s not a watch, it’s a heart monitor. I have to wear it for at least a year, my doctor tells me.”

“Oh.”

Quickly, they scan me up and down, to see if I’m wearing any other spare clothes. They begin studying my pants.

“I never wear an extra pair of pants.”

“Sure,” pretending that they don’t understand my not so hidden meaning.

When they say, “I love your shoes,” I immediately ask what their size is. Whatever it is, I tell them, “I think I have an extra pair that size that I’ll try and remember to bring along next time.”

I ask them what they’re doing there. They say fantastical things like, “I’m planning to build a coffee shop modeled on Dunkin Donuts, except it’s free!”

“How much more money do you need?”

“$70,000.”

“They look at me with eyes full of puppy dog begging. I don’t want to step on their dream but don’t want to give them false hope either.

“Keep trucking,” I tell them.

I head out.

“Come back, Jay! You’re Jay Leno, right?”

“Call me Jay”

“No, you’re Saint Jay!”

I’ve been called worse.

It’s great when they say that they’ll pray for you, but there’s nothing like when they say they’ll pray for you.

As for a recommendation, it’s a no-brainer. I loved the book. If you’ve ever laughed at a well-crafted joke, told with gusto, you should like this book.

To paraphrase Burt Lahr’s immortal line (about Lay’s Potato Chips); “betcha can’t eat just one!” — Betcha can’t read this book and laugh just once.

- Gerald Alper is the author of Portrait of the Artist as a Young Patient (Psychodynamic Studies of the Creative Personality). His new book is God and Therapy (What We Believe When No One is Watching).