[Please read part one first. Exploring a blog is like watching time move backward very, very slowly....] I
was surprised at how little “primo” Jonathan was on YouTube
(aside from the few Paar clips). But this clip from an unlikely
source, the Dean Martin roast for Pallie Frank, actually perfectly
highlights what Jonathan did best. These roasts were “canned”
events where the panelists read scripted jokes; the only two people
who were “allowed” to ad-lib were Don Rickles (who is another
force of nature, but a very different type of standup) and Jonathan.
I’m
not sure how many of the panelists were even present for Jon’s
performance, since it has been revealed by both Rickles and Bob
Newhart that the roasts were shot in “pieces” (for instance,
Orson Welles would come in and do several “poems” and reaction
shots for a bunch of the shows at once). What matters here is the
directions that Jonthan takes, and the fact that he is genuinely
killing Dean and Frank (sure, Dean laughed at just about anything on
his show — including the dreaded Foster Brooks — but here he
looks like he's really amused).
As
noted, the crop of Winters' clips on YouTube is very disappointing, in that it contained no examples of his work on Steve Allen's
shows, only one skit (no standup) from the Andy Williams series, and
one sole clip from his many years on Carson (where he's NOT playing a
character). There are no clips from the many weekly shows he hosted
over the years, and only one LP cut. The single rarest thing is a
fascinating-if-you-like-early-TV failed game show pilot called “Pass the Line” from 1954 (warning: Jon isn't funny at all and the game's
concept is ponderously slow).
One
thing I found interesting in exploring old episodes of the NBC
network radio series “Monitor” was that Jonathan started
regularly doing commercial campaigns as early as the late Fifties. He
was particularly good for these kinds of things as he could play both
interviewer and interview subject, and either follow the script to
the letter or (if the sponsor was in any way adventurous) could make
up his own bit, while remembering to mention the product (or cause)
an ample amount of times. Here are some bloopers with Jon “winging
it”:
He
also was featured in a number of industrial films and PSAs. Here he
appears in various guises to talk about litter on the streets and in
parks:
Somewhere
along the way, producers realized that the best set-up for a Winters
spot would be to put him in a set filled with wigs and hats and have
him just go with the flow. One of the earliest instances of this was
on a 1963 special with guest star Art Carney, which the producers
clearly edited; George Schlatter talks about the show, which was
being prepped when the news that JFK had been assassinated came through, here.
A
handful of the best Winters clips that can be found online come from
the primetime Jack Paar Show. The first shows off
Jonathan’s skills as an impressionist — he avoided doing
celebrity voices in his act and his sketches, but he was excellent at
them. Here he and Paar talk about how Jon prank-called Jack
pretending he was JFK. (This was during the Cuban missile crisis!)
Now
for the gold: a Paar appearance from 1963. From Paar’s praiseworthy
intro to Jon’s lengthy tangent about “what married couples do”
(pretty racy for ’63), this is just great. The main piece is a bit
about fishing from the POV of the fish:
Another
gem occurred in ’64, when Jon discusses undressing in front of a
dog and does his own deranged version of a classic horror movie,
replete with some awesome verbal sound effects:
As
noted above, the Winters clips online are incredibly skimpy on
certain busy periods in his life. For instance, he was a regular
guest on The Andy Williams Show, but the only
trace of those many appearances is in a mega-montage I link to below,
and this odd 1971 sketch in which Jonathan plays a small-town TV
broadcaster who produces a show starring a cheesy big-band duo
(guests Ozzie and Harriet), along with their daughter (Karen
Carpenter!). Only the before and after bits show Jon doing his thing
with Andy:
Winters
was so overpowering you rarely saw him work with other comedians, but
here he is with Mort Sahl playing his straight man (and some other comedian watching TV), in a 1986 cable
special, and with Peter Ustinov (and John Astin!) in the cute but not-hysterical film Viva Max.
The
most interesting rarity to be found “hidden in plain sight” is
the entirety of the 1959 Motorola LP “Progress in Sound/Magic
Moments in Music,” which was given to customers who bought a
Motorola record player. The first side of the LP features that
inevitable ping-pong game between the left and right channels, but
the second side contains interview with Jonathan in character (as a
British hunter, Maude Frickert, and a bragging businessman).
*****
Now
a short tangent about the serious side of Winters (more brilliantly
funny stuff below this, for you impatient types).
Unlike most of his fellow standups, it didn't seem like Jonathan sought out a serious acting career. His
two best-known films are It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World,
World (which he literally steals in a famous scene set in
his character’s gas station) and, for aficionados, The
Loved One (1965). Those who have seen items like the
unbelievably poorly paced Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Mama’s Hung
You in the Closet and I’m Feelin’ So Sad have seen
Jon’s talent squandered on a massive level.
He
did have a very serious side, which came out in interviews and some
of the work he chose in the last few years. One quite sweet inclusion
in one of the shows he hosted was this little segment about his
family, about whom we heard very little (aside from discussing his
breakdowns and time “inside,” Winters was a very private man, to
his credit).
In
2009 Jon did a spoken-word CD where he recited various items,
including the Serenity Prayer and the 23rd Psalm (he spoke in
interviews of being religious, but seeing no need to preach to other
people; he also spoke about having become sober in 1959 after years
of struggling with alcohol). He recited a piece called “Ghost Brigade” and did some pieces on old age, including “Just a
Memory”:
One
of his best-remembered serious efforts — which did prove he
could’ve had a good dramatic career if he’d wanted one — was
his appearance on The Twilight Zone opposite Jack Klugman in “ A Game of Pool.” Here is an abridged version of the
ep:
Most
interviewers did want Jonathan to segueway into his characters
(listen to what seems to be his very last interview here). But the
single best on-camera talk with him comes courtesy of the PBS
talk show called Day at Night, hosted by James Day.
This talk, which aired on November 27, 1973, finds Jon quoting
Emerson (“Humor is the mistress of sorrow”), discussing his
grandfather as this comedy inspiration, and talking about the
influences on his art (Klee, Miro, and Magritte):
*****
Back
to comedy: One of the best sources of full-blown Winters madness are
his guest appearances on The Dean Martin Show.
Perhaps it was producer Greg Garrison’s wise idea to let Jonathan
loose and then just edit his improvs down to an airable length, or
maybe it was just host Dino’s breezy “let’s not take this thing
too seriously” attitude, but Winters shone with Dean, as he had
with the first three hosts of Tonight.
Here
he does old Maude Frickert, uttering her catchphrase, “all over my
bodeeee” A real piece of unscripted weirdness takes place here when
he assumes the role of an annoying passenger on an airplane (replete
with beautifully weird riffs that aren’t meant to be openly funny, as
when he talks about his brother who lives in the
basement and rolls his cigars).
The
airplane concept was also carried out with a full set (and Dean in a
tuxedo) and Jonathan in full flower, ad-libbing as he goes. Again, the notion of an unseen brother (in a dark turn, Jon’s
character discusses using his brother’s dead body out on the lawn
“with bunny eyes in ’im”):
I
was mesmerized by the roasts on Dino’s show as a kid. Now I’m
still fascinated by the mix of un-p.c. humor and celebs reading off
of cue cards, but the two comedians who ALWAYS “killed” on that
show were the only two who ad-libbed their segments, namely Don
Rickles and Jonathan. Here Maudie Frickert mocks Ronald Reagan’s hair dye. And, as “Willis Mumford,” a country boy, he gets to crack up roastee Johnny Carson.
In
recent years, despite having health problems, Winters continued to
appear on talk shows. Bonnie Hunt wisely had him come out in character, something most contemporary hosts are scared of — with
talk shows being so tightly constructed these days, there is no time for
anything that didn't come out of the writers’ room. He did get off a few lines (out of character) to Craig Ferguson about his ill wife and how he likes to scare her from
time to time.
That
is what is so incredibly impressive about Jonathan’s art (and his
ad-libbing did move from standard comedy into sheer artistry): the
fact that he created very bizarre images with his choices of words
and sounds.
That
isn’t something that is tolerated on late night talk shows these
days, though — on a guest appearance with Jimmy Kimmel a few years
back he showed up as a deranged scout master who dressed his little
boy charges as little girls. The bit was not hysterically funny, but Winters' word-paintings got
stranger and stranger (and more and more brilliant) until he finally
got to a description of a flood that came through the woods and
washed all their little dresses downstream.
The
piece was a top-notch example of Winters’ talent, but all Kimmel
could do was interrupt him, ask him “Can I speak with Jonathan?”
and then move on to quiz him about his work on other shows, from Paar
and Carson to Dean Martin. Rather than have a bona fide piece of
Winters’ weirdness on his show, Jimmy wanted to reconnect to the
old weirdness and hear a bunch of reminiscences.
Thus
I give full kudos to Marc Maron, whose podcast “WTF?” (as noted here before) is an odd amalgam of interview show and therapy session.
As he so often does in his chats, Marc's interview with Jonathan got the latter to go to “the
dark places” in his past: the fact that his parents
never were affectionate to him and hated his work as a comedian. The
other sad topics tackled included Jon’s time “in” and the
clever ruse that at one point helped him to escape having
electro-shock therapy.
However
(as Professor Irwin is apt to say), Marc also prodded Jon to dip into
his stash of characters and, unlike Kimmel, allowed him to come up
with little slices of genius. The whole interview is worth your time
and attention, but Jon begins “winging it” (as he often put it)
at the 55:00 mark.
A
truly BRILLIANT bit of comedy occurs at 1:01, as he plays out a
therapy session in which the therapist is fed up with his spineless
patient and begins instructing him on ways to off himself. Remember,
at this point Winters is 85 and still functioning on all cylinders.
You can listen to the interview here (caution: at some point this
interview will be “locked up” for pay, as Marc does with all his
older shows).
It used to fetch hundreds of dollars, but I see by a quick Google
search that a copy of this extremely rare record just went for
a lousy fifteen bucks on eBay (*after* his death). Whatever its
monetary value, it is priceless as an example of Jon truly being a
“sick comic,” doing a series of dark sketches and
radio-commercial parodies. The whole thing can now be heard on a CD
called The Underground Tapes, but only a small
sliver of it is up on YT. Feast:
On
that same note, here's a very intriguing slice of standup in which
Jon seems pissed off about something. The poster doesn't note what
show it came from, but it is from 1980 (he timestamps it by
mentioning that he's been married 32 years). He really goes to town
here, free-associating about gas stations, going to dinner parties,
and generally making bitter fun of his marriage (not his usual sort
of material – and of course he did remain married to his one and
only wife for another 29 years!).
Showing
that he had indeed lost none of his edge in his final years, here is an outtake from the mockumentary Certifiably Jonathan
in which he riffs a Western poker game, and below is a radically
weird and uncensored retelling of Little Red Riding Hood. This
definitely fits in the “Hee-Hee-Hee Hee Larious” mode, and I'm
very glad the filmmakers caught it on video. The guy was 85 years old
and his mind was as sharp (and blissfully strange) as ever.
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