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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