The World's Greatest Audience

He was so cheap whenever he opened his wallet, George Washington blinked from the sun.  Carmichael the polar bear, was helping to guard his vault. He considered himself to be a ladies' man, and his idea of a good date was when they paid.  When asked about his violin playing, his teacher pointed out the strings of a violin were catgut and the strings from the bow were from a horse's tail - - so imagine a horse stepping on a cat.  His eyes were said to have been bluer than the thumb of an Eskimo hitchhiker.  He had enough money that the government borrowed from him.  And although his birth certificate said he was eighty years of age, he'll always be thirty-nine.



Jack Benny and Mel Blanc in a classic Christmas show.

His name was Benjamin Kubelsky, but to millions he'll always be Jack Benny.  Away from the stage, he was one of the nicest people you'd ever want to meet.  Onstage, he was a cheapskate, a pest who didn't realize he was one, the world's worst violin player, and the butt of every joke on his show - which made them all the more funnier.  Benny rarely, if ever, told a joke, and when he tried, was constantly interrupted, which made the situation that much more hilarious.  He was the creator of the fall guy.

But more than anything, Jack Benny was the world's greatest audience.  George Burns, his best friend, could make him roll on the floor without even trying.  They were at a concert given my Jeanette MacDonald.  Before Miss MacDonald let one one note, Burns leaned over and whispered, "Jack, if you start laughing while Miss MacDonald sings, it would be very rude."  That was all it took.  Benny was on the floor, and the two men had to leave.

Another time, they were at a party.  Burns walked over, noticing a thread on Benny's shoulder.  "May I borrow this?", putting it on his own shoulder.  Benny rolled on the ground as Burns walked away with the thread for the rest of the evening.  The following day, Burns mailed it back to him with a thank-you note.  Mary, Benny's wife, called Burns later that day. Benny had been on the floor for half an hour in laughter.

Danny Kaye told of a time when he was golfing with Benny and Kaye was having a bad day on the links, using language he wasn't proud of.  They encountered a group of ladies who let them play through.  Kaye hit a horrible shot, and Benny cringed, knowing what was coming.  Kaye put his hand to his face, simply saying, "Oh dear!"  That was all it took.

Benny never walked out on George Burns' singing, and Burns never walked out on his violin playing.  Now that was friendship. 

But what's interesting about Jack Benny is that no matter how funny he was, anyone - I mean anyone - could make him laugh.  He found humor in anyone and anything.  It wasn't a business to him.  He loved life and those around him.  Comedy needs Jack Benny today, and we've the writers still.  But another Jack Benny?  Forget it.