A Day of Labor

(Editor's Note: Trip Darvez once again dips into his archives of columns from the L.A. Reader, a defunct weekly newspaper. This is from September, 1979.)

It was simply an innocuous comment…something said at the Rainbow…just before a few drinks at On the Rox. I was finishing dinner with a group of friends, and it was the kind of talk that you get into, waiting for the bill with the last remnants of the drink in front of you. Casual talk in quick situations can lead to trouble.

Next thing I knew, instead of doing the report on Cable TV in the coming decade, I had volunteered to watch the entire Jerry Lewis telethon. Well, not volunteered so much as bet that I could. Of course I could do it.

Just past 5PM, I nearly forgot that it was time to go in until I could hear my neighbor on his deck…such a fucking loudmouth ever since he got the 50ft. cord. He’s practically shouting to a distant relative, and had I not thought of the “reach out” jingle, I’d have forgotten the wager. But there I was, on KTLA, ready to be entertained. Jerry is full of pep as well. As he begins with a spiel on the purpose of this event, I am quickly going over ground rules and realizing: all I have to do is be in the room while it is on. This sounds flexible, but it’s actually difficult...a lass is sitting on my kitchen counter, eating cookies. I hear loud noises, but here on the couch I sit. Knowing I’m cookie-less, and answering her question that yes, I am being paid to write about this, she leaves. Thank god – I need to concentrate.

You can’t have a show-stopping act at the start – it would stop the show immediately. Instead, Charlie Callas comes out after an overly pro-longed introduction which made me think Jack Benny had been brought back to life. Charlie goes through his routine (the casinos mentioned in his introduction are in Reno, which is…whatever) and is met with perfectly timed guffaws. As I wonder if this is an audience that will laugh at anything (then be given free buffet coupons after spending 2 hours in their chairs) a trombone player accidentally plays a note. Charlie responds with “Hey, don’t blow me off yet.” I actually laugh at Charlie for the first time.

Post-dinner (and realizing I am now missing my Famous Amos goods) Jerry is busy introducing titans of industry. The president of Hickory Farms talks of his “product” – don’t they realize I just ate? Then again, we’ll have to swing by a store…when is that mall in Sherman Oaks opening up, anyway? This guy just referred to something called “Beefstick Central.” Am I ever going to see the money of this bet?

About an hour later (what happened to the time doesn’t need to be written about…certainly not here) I see Jerry mentioning that Kiss will be on next. Now THIS will be a meeting…wait…videotape. I can only imagine the pissed off teens and pre-teens at this. Kiss may “sure know something” and that is: why not record a video and save yourself the trouble?

The local part of the telethon comes back on, and someone named “Winston Earl” has just pledged $5. I make phone calls…lights out at the neighbor’s house. I am told on the other end of the phone that I sound dejected. It’s true…I won’t last…not like Jerry. Maybe I’m fueled by the wrong thing, but I decide to put my speakers on my deck and aim toward the basin. The next act on the telethon will get a booming projection over the city for one full minute.

Englebert Humperdinck?!

Take ten, Jerry. My ten. Back to the bottle.