The Secret of Jack Benny

This feature story on Jack Benny saw print on October 29, 1961. It doesn’t need any introduction except perhaps to remark that some of the vignettes you’ll read below you’ve likely read before. But like Jack’s TV and radio show, with re-workings of gags and routines, they’re old favourites that don’t wear out when you read them again.

The photo accompanied the article in one paper.

Jack Benny's Life Keeps Beginning at 39 But Here’s the Sneaky Lowdown—He’s 67
How Showbiz Veteran Keeps Pulling Laughs
EDITOR'S NOTE: Few men of 39 are celebrating their 50th year in showbiz. But then few men are Jack Benny. Some say he's been using the same gags for half a century but to Benny every knock is a boost and he just keeps on fiddling while the world laughs.
By JAMES BACON
Associated Press Writer
HOLLYWOOD — Television is supposed to be sure death for comics. Excepting Jack Benny. He's just started his 12th year on home screens, his 30th in broadcasting, his 50th in showbiz.
His secret?
Says best friend George Burns: "Jack is such a nice guy that people tune him in each week hoping he'll get better."
Says violinist Isaac Stern: "When Jack walks out in tails in front of a symphony orchestra he looks like the greatest of soloists. What a shame he has to play!"
Said the late Fred Allen: "Benny couldn't ad lib a belch after a Hungarian dinner."
Says his wife, Mary Livingstone: "Jack stares audiences to death. He dares them not to laugh. Finally, the audience—never Jack—gets nervous and starts laughing hysterically."
For Benny, every knock is a boost—and no one knows it better than he. He is the all-time champion patsy, butt of all jokes—even in real life.
• • •

HE'LL BE 68 next Valentine's Day. He looks and acts 39. Well, almost.
"In fact," says Jack, "I wouldn't mind being 39 again if I felt as good as I do now."
For years Burns has played outlandish gags on Benny. No matter where Jack is playing, Burns will call him and hang up in the middle of a conversation.
"If I didn't keep up this ridiculous gag, his feelings would be hurt. He'd think I was mad at him," says Burns.
Almost anything Burns does, Jack thinks funny.
Once at a Hollywood party at producer Bill Goetz' house, entertainers like Danny Kaye and Judy Garland did impromptu bits for the guests.
• • •
BENNY, AT THEIR FINISH, asked Burns for a cigaret. Burns handed his old friend a smoke, lit it for him — and then signaled the orchestra for a fanfare.
"Ladies and gentleman," announced Burns. "Jack Benny will now do his famous cigaret bit."
Burns puffed his cigar and waited away. A perplexed Benny stood there with smoke in his face muttering: "What cigaret bit?"
George says Jack got his revenge in the most tortuous of ways.
"Every time I go to his house," says George. "He plays me some new tune he's learned on his violin."
Benny and his violin is one of Hollywood's oddities. At 67, Jack still takes lessons and practices two hours a day.
Is he good? says Jascha Heifetz.
"Only a genius could make such sounds come out of a Stradivarius."
BENNY, SMART SHOWMAN, has let others argue about his playing. In a rare comment on his ability, he said:
"Heifetz, Leonard Bernstein, Mischa Elman all think that I'm pretty good on the violin but just play lousy for laughs. Isaac Stern knows me better. He knows I can't play any better. But I love the violin."
One thing that Jack can do well is play a jazz fiddle, but his practice sessions are always the difficult classics.
Benny's first radio appearance was on a variety show in the 1931-32 season.
In a medium where everybody talked a mile-a-minute so there wouldn't be dead air, Benny calmly said:
"Hello folks, this is Jack Benny." Then he stared at the microphone for what seemed an hour.
Next, he said "There will be a slight pause while everyone says: ‘Who cares?’"
That appearance brought Benny a 13-week network offer. He has never been unemployed or unsponsored since.
Benny made the transition from radio to TV in 1950 with little effort.
"My gang just had to put on make-up and memorize lines instead of reading them," says Jack.
• • • •
FOR A WHILE, he was on TV every other week. At an age when most performers are slowing, Benny upped his schedule to one-a-week.
He added night club appearances and symphony benefits.
Benny is a show business paradox. He's a perfectionist in preparing his shows but he gives an almost lackadaisical impression while doing it — like Willie Mays snagging an outfield fly.
Some will say that he has used the same basic jokes for his 50 years of show business. Those who remember vaudeville in the twenties will recall one of Jack's routines about taking his girl out for dinner: He said something so funny she dropped her tray.
The 1961 Benny's using the same joke in another variation.
"It's not really the same joke," explains Jack. "It's a characterization."
A few years ago on one show, a gunman held up Benny with the usual threat: "Your money or your life."
All Benny had to do was ponder with that famous stare to get one of the biggest laughs of the season."
• • •
BURNS SAYS Benny's success lies in coming out like a mincing lightweight and then delivering a knockout performance.
An example of this was a recent affair in Beverly Hills when Frank Sinatra and friends—Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Jr., and Joey Bishop—were on too long. Danny Thomas, the emcee, also played past the finish. (They) took three hours.
Came Benny. His quips were sharp, funny and brief. He did three minutes — and stole the whole show.
Enthusiasm is another Benny forte.
Burns recalls:
"Jack had just come from his lawyer's where he signed a contract worth a million. He joined me for lunch and was all excited.
" ‘You know what, George? I just found out that if you drive 20 miles an hour up Wilshire, you can miss all the red lights.’"
A party he tossed a few years ago at a New York automat was front-paged because only Benny, in character, would host a black-tie party at the automat complete with dance band and big names. Jack, not denying the obvious publicity value, admits there was another motive.
"When I was in vaudeville I used to eat at the automat all the time. They have certain things there, coffee and pie for instance, that are great. I always wanted to sneak in for some but I was afraid that everybody would think that I really am a miser — so I had to content myself with inferior coffee at 65 cents a cup in some plush New York restaurant. With the party, I had my coffee and pie and ate it too."