Newspaper Page Text
The Baron Munchausen
Writes His Own
Confessions
By Jack Pearl
-K -K -K
1 HAVE often been quoted as saying “This busi
ness of being funny is nothing to laugh at.”
Of all the professional theatrical performers
1 believe that the comedian’s role is the hardest
. . . not because I’m one, hut because it really is.
Few people realize the great concentration that is
required, the perfection of technique, the proper
timing of words and numerous other little things
that contribute to his success. Natural wit and
talent arc, of course, necessary, but for radio or
stage popularity there is a special touch or knack
that is required and this comes only after much
practice before various audiences.
The comedian is like an artist or musician in
many ways. A man may learn to play a musical
instrument over a period of years before finally
mastering the technique that proclaims him a great
artist. In other instances a child prodigy may he
able to render the compositions in a similarly ar
tistic fashion. The comic, he he young or old,
faces the same conditions. A man doesn’t pursue
professional clowning as a hobby. He studies and
practices faithfully for years. At times young fel
lows are able to convulse audiences with laughter
—literally “roll them in the aisles,” hut 1 believe
that it takes time and experience to turn out a
comedian equal to any situation—and, after all,
that is what determines his quality. There is noth
ing so tragic as a comedian who isn’t funny.
1 am neither young nor old, l have served my
apprenticeship is the theater and if 1 have made
any progress it is because I studied—really studied
being funny. All these crazy antics and inflections
of the voice that tickle the risibilities of the audi
ence aren’t impromptu. They are a matter of
evolution. Ever since 1 received my first im
portant comic role—in “School Days” when
Danny Murphy, the German comedian, fell ill
and 1 was thrust into the role at a moment’s notice
after understudying the part for several days—
1 have tried to be original—to cultivate those odd
twists of the voice and body that make the man a
clown,
In those early days, as many of you will re
member, pantomime was a leading factor and the
successful comedian was able to make his face say
“Uncle”—literally and figuratively. 1 have never
relinquished the hold I then held over my facial
muscles. If a musician must practice to retain
the suppleness of his fingers, I too have to put my
face through its routine every morning. Immedi
ately after shaving (Yes, 1 shave) 1 stand before
a mirror and portray surprise, terror, sorrow, joy
and the various other emotions . . . not as the
Barrymores might, but in the ludicrous fashion I
have learned for the stage. I am firm in the
conviction that, even if 1 should never set foot
again on another stage, my efforts in this direction
would not be wasted—for is not television just
around the corner ?
JACK PEARL
. . . "A coat-of-arms designed for their stationery” . . .
Radio fans and theater-goers often labor under
the impression that a comedian’s life is one riotous
series of convulsive laughs, of bantered witticisms
—a man who is a cut-up off stage and on. Often
times this is so. More often it is not. Perhaps an
outline of my average Thursday routine will
clarify this angle of the situation and show that
a comedian today really works for a living. After
getting to bed early in the morning, I rise and
shine at 10.
10-10:45—Dress, wash, facial exercise.
10:45-11:30—Breakfast, morning paper, mail.
11:30-3:30—Rehearse for show, “Pardon Mv
English.”
3:30-4—Light lunch.
4-6—Rehearse for broadcast with Cliff Hall
(Charlie to you.)
6- 7—Home to dinner.
7- 9—Read and answer fan mail, autograph pic
tures, interviews, prepare articles such as this.
9-11:30—NBC studio and Magic Carpet program.
11:30-12:30—Late dinner.
1—Home and so to bed.
Oddly enough, the comedian’s day doesn’t end
there. When, you may ask, does he think up all
those funny things he says on the air? Well, I
am just coming to that. I like to think them up
when Em in bed. They often come to me in the
Here is a self-portrait written by the famous
comedian Jack Pearl, whose exploits as Baron
Munchausen are making America forget the de
pression. Jack Pearl who started life as Jacob
Perlman is the most colorful entertainer of today.
course of the day or in conversations with friends, I]
but 1 conjure up most of them in the blackness of I
my room at night. With all the excitement that 1
attends my “working” day, you can imagine that 1
I would be a bit restless at night. While I’m P
tossing and hot in pursuit of Morpheus, 1 think 1
of the strangest things! Sometimes they havt I
merit but in all instances as soon as they occur 1
to me I switch on the bed-lamp and jot them 1
down on a pad that I keep at the bedside ton- ^
stantly. In the morning I go over my notes when |
my head is clearer and discount those that arc I
obviously useless and consult Cliff on the others. I
1 believe he uses the same system and between us I
1 manage to get a large part of my material. Of ft
course, I have a staff of advisers to get a lot oi I
the material.
Of late my “gags” have taken a twist that is a !"
little different from those 1 used previously. Sincr
I stepped into the character of “Baron Mun j
chausen" l have found it necessary to confine my -'
self to material in keeping with that remarkable
gentleman’s keen wit.
“The Baron,” as you probably know', never real
ly existed. He was a character in fiction—and such
a character!—that put the Biblical Ananias to
shame. His talcs, too ridiculous to be true, were,
nevertheless, sufficiently based upon fact as to be
accepted by many as truths. In stepping into his
character, therefore, 1 must feel that I, too, have
accomplished similarly remarkable things and mu>t
assume that air of confidence in myself amounting
really to extreme braggadocio. A little swagger,
a little gesture of surprise at an expression of in
credulity, an earnestness in relating the “experi:
ence” properly spiced with humor—and behold!
the modern vision of his excellency the Baron
Munchausen—the Crown Prince of Prevaricator'
—not the biggest liar in the world—but the
greatest.
There is another little slant on this racket of
mine that may, or may not, have occurred to you
but I feel it my duty as spokesman for the pro
fession to call it to your attention. Have you ever
stopped to consider the effect on the comedian'*
family of all those mother-in-law, sister, brother,
father and wife gags that are being constant)' ban
tered about? Such gags as “My mother-in-lav
has pullman teeth—you know*, one upper and one
lower,” and “My father-in-law' is so lazy, etc..’
are liable to strain the comedian’s domestic rela
tions. Fortunately I’ve never been troubled in thi*
respect, for my folks and my wife’s folks have a
wonderful sense of humor and are constantly con
tributing their bit, sometimes at their own ex
pense.
Only the other day, my wife brought me a dip
ping from a local newspaper and asked me if it
was true. It read, “Jack Pearl says his wife is so
impressed by his Magic Carpet appearances as
the Baron Munchausen that she had a coat-of-
arms designed for their stationery.” Now-, I a-k
you.
Copyrighted 1932 for The Southern Israelite
f8]
* THE SOUTHERN ISRAELITE