He Was Never in Kirk Douglas' Swimming Pool

Who gave the toast at Roger Ebert’s wedding in 1992?

No, it wasn’t Gene Siskel. And don’t bother guessing the name of a big-name movie star.

It was Lou Jacobi.

He was one of those character guys who popped up continually on TV. He was at home in drama. He was at home in comedy. I remember him on Dean Martin’s TV show.

Jacobi has so many credits; Ebert wrote in 1999 about how Woody Allen wrote the play Don’t Drink the Water for him. Allen cast him in Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex. Barry Levinson put him in Avalon. Ebert told of Jacobi’s record albums: Tijuana Al and his Jewish Brass and The Yiddish are Coming! The Yiddish are Coming!. And he told how, in 1947, Lou was working a club in a dress, blonde wig, sprawled out on a piano and singing about a naughty lady named Sadie.

The purpose for Ebert’s story is to relate that he showed up to see Jacobi give a star on Canada’s Walk of Fame. Until reading the article, I didn’t know Jacobi was another Canadian export to the U.S.

Here are a couple of earlier clippings. First, from a weekend feature story by Morris Duff in the Toronto Star of Jan. 14, 1961. Americans reading this will think of Don Harron as a cast member of Hee-Haw.

Once Stag Comic Now Character Star
NEW YORK—Everything Toronto-born Lou Jacobi touches turns to gold. This week he is rehearsing by day for the new Broadway comedy “Come Blow Your Horn.” By night he continues to play Schlissel, the synagogue-going atheist, in Paddy Chayefsky’s “The Tenth Man.”
At 47, Jacobi is entering the category of high-paid character actor. Just 10 years ago he was a borscht circuit comedian in Toronto making a living by playing stags, smokers, bar mitzvahs and banquets. In summer he travelled to Muskoka or other holiday areas as a social director at lodges.
Salary Jumps
Today, Jacobi’s salary is five times higher than the one he received just two plays ago when he first appeared on Broadway in “The Diary of Anne Frank.”
Don Harron, another Toronto actor in “Tenth Man” recalled meeting Jacobi in a restaurant on Bloor St. about a decade ago.
“He was a joke teller and I was a college actor,” Harron explained. Harron took a lofty view of his work and a low one of Jacobi’s, but the two became fast friends” At Harron’s suggestion the stag party comedian was invited to the New Play society to perform material written by Harron for “Spring Thaw.” He had a burlesque appeal the revue needed.
By 1951, Harron was in England and encouraging Jacobi to join him. Lou decided to accept and was about to leave when he got word that Harron was returning. “So I did a loner, Jacobi recalls. “I faced a new country with its fog and rain without friends.
Different Ambition
Harron had suggested he work in English variety. But a different ambition had been kindled in Jacobi. He wanted to get into the West End theatre.
Agent after agent turned him away with, “My dear fe11ow, what have you done?” Then he met a girl from Vancouver who was an agent’s switchboard operator. She told him about auditions for “Remains to Be Seen.”
The Canadían got the part as the chief detective, he found out later because he looked like the actor who did the role in the U.S.
“I played the part with a slight lisp,” Jacobi recalls. When the reviews came out they scorned the play but praised star Diana Dors and the policeman with the lisp.
Against Advice
Jacobi’s career in London developed through musicals such as “Guys and Dolls” and “Pal Joey.” Then, against the advice of his agent, he took a series of small parts in “The World of Sholem Aleichem.” He was seen in it by Garson Kanin who decided the Canadian should come to Broadway for the role of Mr. Van Daam in “The Diary of Anne Frank.”
Jacobi is the first to admit his career is filled with luck and breaks “Garson Kanin might not have come to England for another 20 years. But the point is when I got the breaks I was ready.
“An actor must prepare himself and always be ready and then he must get fortunate. Nobody heard me complaining when I wasn’t getting the breaks. I didn’t quit to go into some other business.”
In Jacobi’s view of Jacobi, his lack of a formal or the conventional theatre acting background has been a good thing. He feels his own background worked better.
Smokers Toughest
“To be a raconteur you have to be an actor. Entertaining men at smokers is the hardest thing to do. You have to get them right away. You have to be an actor to give it color. So I really had been an actor for years, without knowing it.
“My talent is intuitive. I can’t say how I do it. I’m a non-academic actor.”
A few days before “Tenth Man” opened, Jacobi got a call from movie producer Billy Wilder. He was wondering what Jacobi was doing in a new play when he had written a special part for him in an upcoming movie, “The Apartment.” It is generally agreed the role was wonderful and would have been great for Jacobi. Only trouble was Wilder neglected to tell Jacobi what he was doing.
Jacobi, who has appeared in several films, doesn’t consider loss of the movie role too serious. Next time, Wilder will know better than to expect Jacobi to just sit waiting.
Salt and Pepper
“And ‘The Tenth Man’ was wonderful for my career. . . . I like roles with lots of salt and pepper in them, I don’t like them to be bland. It was an exciting creative work.”
As the result of “The Tenth Man,” Jacobi was able to get a six-week “out” clause in the new play. If there is another call from Wilder, or if a particularly tempting movie or play role comes along, Jacobi will be able to give notice and take the new assignment.
“Actually I don’t think an actor should worry about his career. He should just move from job to job . . . trying to keep working and doing the best he can with whatever parts he has.
“Once an actor starts to worry about his career he’s in trouble.”

Here’s a 1963 column from the Newspaper Enterprise Association where Jacobi gives his feelings about Hollywood.

Old Pro Jacobi Looks at Hollywood
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
Hollywood Correspondent
HOLLYWOOD, Apr. 23 (NEA) — What people DON’T talk about on movie and television sound stages is bugging Lou Jacobi almost as much as why Kirk Douglas’ swimming pool is so “chic.”
As for some actors being reluctant to remove their make-up because, he reasons, they must not like themselves—well, he’s just sorry.
Before going into these idle but piercing thoughts-while-looing-at-Hollywood, let me introduce you to Lou Jacobi. The face may be familiar, but probably not the name.
Come to think about it, the face is tricky, too.
He’s always behind a beard or mustache for his movie and stage roles.
Behind mutton chops he was Franz Liszt’s manager in “Song Without End.” Behind a beard he was Mr. Van Daan in stage and movie version of “The Diary of Anne Frank.” Now he’s behind a mustache with ends that curl up like teapot spouts in “Irma La Douce.”
He plays a barman – raconteur called “Mustache” by Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine in the film, and he does more talking than listening.
Most of the time he’s way cut with cock ‘n’ bull stories about his adventures as soldier, sailor, 1awyer, doctor or what have you. Every story ends up with “Mustache” saying:
“But that’s another story.”
The way Lou Jacobi reads them the words could catch on as the year’s most quoted movie line.
As an old Pro (from Toronto, Canada) who has been in show business since the age of 12, Jacobi is amazed at what he hears on movie and television sound stages.
“No one talks about acting out here,” he grumbled. “It’s fantantic. The talk is about real estate, cars, money, where to go on vacations. The whole idea seems to be to ignore acting, grab the money and run.
“When not acting, everyone in town seems to be in Kirk Douglas’ swimming pool. That amazes me, too.”
This, he explained, came to his attention while living in a theatrical type apartment house in Hollywood, while working in “Irma La Douce”
“I knew swimming pools were chic out here,” he said. “But I didn’t realize you have to be in the swim in the RIGHT pool.”
While relaxing in the apartment’s swimming pool, he met a young actor also living in the apartment. Later they met again, at a big Hollywood party. In a group with a round of introductions, the young actor said to Jacobi:
“Oh yes, we’ve met before — in Kirk Douglas’ swimming pool.”
With mustache ends twirling, Jacobi stormed: “I’ve never been in Douglas’ pool, and I’m sure that young fellow hasn’t either. But an apartment house pool just isn’t chic.”
Jacobi says he’s one of those actors who can be happy as a person and “that’s rare these days.”
“The curtain” he explains, “comes down at 6 p.m. and then I’m just Lou Jacobi, another person.
“I feel sorry for actors who are reluctant to take their make-up off.
When they do, they must discover they don’t like themselves.
“As actors who like the roles they play better than themselves, they lose control of acting. To give a good performance, you have to control the roll 100 per cent.
“I’m grateful that I always have a self to come back to.”

Jacobi was 95, a widower and under care when he died in New York in 2009. He was a thoughtful actor, a keen observer, and his career went swimmingly in all but one way.