It’s a shame Jack Benny felt he had to compensate for his radio and TV character. I’ve reprinted a number of articles on the subject and he always sounds a bit resentful. He, at least in my mind, should have just let people think that they’ll think. They’re going to do it anyway.
As it was, he couldn’t satisfy some people.
As intelligent people are reading here, those who are Jack Benny fans know he wasn’t cheap. They know he contributed to charities through concerts and donations. They know he did unadvertised acts of kindness, such as writing to parents of service-members he entertained during World War Two.
Here’s another syndicated column, this time from 1964, on the subject.
Jack Benny Is Really a Spendthrift
By ALAN MITCHELL
North American Newspaper Alliance
NEW YORK, March 6—"When I go to dinner in a large party, I feel obliged to pick up the check," says Jack Benny, who has devoted 30 years to building a reputation as a tight-wad. "Otherwise people may say, 'There goes old sticky-fingers again." I can't leave a normal 15 per cent tip. It's got to be a whopper.
"I pay the top price for everything I buy, even when I know it's on sale somewhere else. Over the year, it has cost me tens of thousands of dollars to prove I'm not really a miser. And every time the cost of living goes up, it gets worse."
Jack, who turned 39 for the 32nd time on Feb. 14, recalled a conversation with a cab driver who took him from New York's John F. Kennedy Airport to his hotel suite. The fare was $5. Jack handed the cabbie a $10 bill and told him to keep the change. "I wish you hadn't done that, Mr. Benny," the driver insisted, pocketing the bill. "Now I'll have to tell my wife you're not really a cheap bum. She'll be disappointed."
On another occasion, during a concert tour, Jack dropped into an all-night diner for a cup of coffee. When it came time to pay the tab, he discovered he had left his wallet it his hotel room. "So you're Jack Benny, eh?" the counterman remarked, watching Jack fumble through his empty pockets. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." The next day, the comic's accountant dutifully mailed a check for $5.10 (including $5 tip) to the counterman. Jack recalls that this financial Frankenstein began as a one-line joke on one of his first radio programs, back in 1934. The gag got a loud laugh, so the following week there were two "cheapskate" jokes in the script. Soon Jack's stinginess was such a part of his professional personality that when a bandit, in a radio sketch, warned him “. . . your money or your life,” there was no need for further dialogue. The long pause that followed brought down the house.
Recently the comedian's philanthropies have received sufficient publicity to help eradicate the image. In five years, his off-key concerts have raised nearly $4 million for worthy causes, including the musicians' welfare funds of more than 25 symphony orchestras. He is a heavy contributor to CARE, the Damon Runyon Cancer Fund, the United Jewish Appeal and other charities.
But the public guise of a skinflint—on his TV show and elsewhere—still rankles him. "I realize people don't believe I actually have a cigarette vending machine in my living room, or a private vault in the cellar," he said. "But on the other hand, they may think that where there's smoke there's fire."
Not long ago, Jack bought a classic custom-made Rolls Royce for more than $25,000. He rushed to the home of a friend, an antique auto buff, to show it off. But his friend's cleaning woman was unimpressed. "It's terrible for a millionaire like Mr. Benny to be running around in an old car like that," she remarked sourly after he left.
"You see," said Jack, "no matter how much money I spend, I'm still a cheapskate."
By the time this article appeared in print, Jack was in Sydney, Australia for some live performances. That meant his TV shows were on film. The March 3, 1964 episode included an unusual guest star. What looks to be a CBS publicity hand-out appeared in newspapers in advance. (Yes, I know, headline, Beechnut gum).
Zebra in stripe-tease on Benny's program
Kate Smith plays a walk-on part on "The Jack Benny Program" on CBS-TV Tuesday at 9:30 p.m., and doesn't sing a note.
It's not the singing star Kate Smith. It is coincidentally enough a zebra named Kate, whose owner's name is Smith. Thus making her Kate Smith. And she has a claim to fame all her own.
This is the only working zebra in Hollywood. She was shipped to the Mark Smith Stables from her native Africa some nine years ago on a special request. • • •
"WE FIGURED we could train her," recalls Smith, "but we never realized what a tough job it would be. Zebras are wild animals; we never let ourselves forget that. Where a horse can be gentled to be a friend, and a somewhat domesticated pet, a zebra may turn on you at any given time. She's mighty tricky and we don't trust her a bit."
Both Jack Benny and Joan Staley, who appears in this episode of the Benny show, found out the same thing. While the beast appears gentle for the camera, she was actually kicking up quite a fuss backstage.
"That’s because her buddy isn't here," explained Smith. "Her stablemate is a mule; it's out in the trailer now and when the two of them are separated Kate gets jittery."
• • •
THE SMITHS, who operate stables in the Los Angeles area, figure to import a few more zebras. "Not that there's an overwhelming demand for them to work in Hollywood, but we do get calls for them to make personal appearances. "Because of their scarcity they get more money than horses. And it is easier to work with the real thing than to stripe a horse," he said.
About 25 years earlier, some people had to be assured Jack did not own a polar bear named Carmichael. We hope he wasn't asked the same thing about Kate Smith, the zebra.























































