Jerry Lewis R. I. P.

Jerry Lewis died while I was at band camp for adults.  Although regarded in this country as a bozo, he did a lot of good.  The muscular dystrophy association wouldn’t be what it was without all the work he did for it.  I ran one of their clinics in the 70s and 80s.  Back then, they were so flush that they didn’t even submit claims to insurance companies for visits to the clinics (initially at least, but they wised up eventually).

 I went to two directors’ meetings, one in LA the other in Tucson.  They were purely scientific.  Jerry would have received quite a round of applause, but he didn’t show.  A major topic of conversation between directors was why and how Jerry became interested in muscular dystrophy.  No one knew, and I don’t think anyone does to this day.  The New York Times obit said he raised 2 billion for the MDA.

We will never understand the French.  They thought Jerry was a comic genius and took his work very seriously.  At first I thought it was a form of condescension, but it wasn’t.

The French will never understand us.  At the band camp I was fortunate enough to play a Poulenc sonata with a marvelous flutist.  Years ago I heard an interview with the great French pianist Pascal Roget, when here to play some of Poulenc’s music.  He noted that Poulenc wasn’t highly thought of in France being regarded as somewhat of clown.  He is greatly admired here in the states.

Band camp had the usual collection of amateur musicians — out of 115 or so, there were (at least) two full professors of mathematics, a physicist, a programmer, a PhD in mathematics education, and numerous MDs.  And those were just the ones I met and talked to. This always seems to be the species of people interested in playing music not professionally (but not unprofessionally).

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