We were in the process of shedding the heavy outerwear we had worn at the freezing-cold Bears football game earlier that Sunday. The telephone rang repeatedly. We were busy, rushing to change clothes and grab a bite of dinner before going to the Blackhawks hockey game that night. I was not pleased that my husband, Marty, purchased Blackhawk tickets for the same day as the Bears game, but knowing Marty’s love of sports, I let the subject drop.
Annoyed by that persistently ringing phone, I finally answered it. The caller said he was Jerry Lewis, and he wanted to speak with Mr. Martin Hausman. Yeah, right … I was sure it was one of our crazy friends posing as the then-famous comedian, so I hung up.
Some months previous to this phone call, there was considerable news about the break-up between Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin who were a very popular entertainment duo at that time. For Dean Martin, this was a step up into Hollywood stardom, but for Jerry Lewis it was a drop down into what was feared would be a struggling single act.
My dear, compassionate husband felt sorry for Jerry Lewis, especially because of the way critics demeaned him and lauded Dean Martin. In an act of kindness, he wrote a letter to Jerry Lewis, complimenting him on his comedic skills and urging him to continue honing his now solo act.
Marty always had concern for the underdog, and he felt that reaching out and giving a boost to one’s morale was important. His friends teased him about his letter-writing to strangers, folks who often didn’t even acknowledge receiving his letters.
But, back to that Sunday call … we were so sure the caller was not Jerry Lewis that when he called a second time, we hung up on him again. Fortunately, he persisted! He said he was truly overwhelmed by Marty’s thoughtful letter, and he wanted to meet us. He invited our family of four to Chicago’s elegant and renowned, Chez Paree Nightclub for dinner and ringside seats to his show there in the upcoming week.
What a surprising, wonderful gift. That evening was a thrill for our young children and a great evening for Marty and me. Adding to our fun at the show, Jerry came to our table, and brought our sweet 5-year-old daughter, Barbara, onstage with him and placed her on his lap. He told the audience that he and his wife raised a houseful of boys, and they had always dreamed of also having a little girl. He proceeded to serenade Barbara and the audience with the song, “Thank Heaven for Little Girls.” When he accompanied Barbara back to the table, he played the role of a good father, not playing “favorites.” He introduced our 8-year-old son, Dan, to the audience and gave him an autographed photo, personalized specifically to him.
This episode may seem inconsequential in the bigger scheme of life. However, I believe it speaks to the very essence of our humanity. It exemplifies, whether reciprocated or not, how important it is to write the letter/email that doesn’t have to be written, to make the phone call that doesn’t need be made, and to acknowledge and/or compliment a small act that is typically overlooked. Expressing warmth and kindness to one another adds so much to our lives.
Marty was a man who aspired to be his brothers/sisters’ keeper, and he tried to make life sweeter for all. Even on his gravestone, the printing aptly reads, “Someone who cared.”
I say, let’s emulate him!
Harriet had a health scare this past week, which is bound to happen to someone who is 99½. Anyone who wants to send a kind word of encouragement can email ktrainor@wjinc.com and we will forward the messages to her.