Dean and Me_ A Love Story - Jerry Lewis [60]
It was, of course, the exact opposite of everything Dean Martin had been taught to feel and—God knows—to show.
Putting it mildly, I knew I could sometimes be a bit much for him. I’d always worn my emotions on my sleeve, but as our career skyrocketed, the sleeve became a size extra large. I was constantly rewarded for showing my emotions. Everybody in the country—the critics included— jumped up and down for me. Did I feel bad that Dean was overshadowed? Sure I did. But did I also feel excited at what was happening? You bet your ass I did.
And so the more I got, the more I tried to give to Dean. But I recognize—now, fifty years later—that being at the receiving end of outrageous generosity isn’t the easiest thing in the world.
To make matters worse, Dean had claustrophobia. Literally. I mean, he wouldn’t ride in elevators if he could possibly avoid it. (He especially hated the backstage elevator at the Paramount, which was the size of a coffin and unreliable, to boot. Whenever we played there, he would walk the six flights from the stage to the dressing room, then back down, seven times a day—a round-trip for each of our shows! And the last time he lived in New York City, in 1948, he and Betty rented a lovely third-floor apartment on Riverside Drive and 106th Street. Dean would walk up the stairs.) We always had to get him two seats on planes, so he wouldn’t feel boxed in by another passenger. There were times when our dressing rooms were tight and he would dress at the hotel, then wait in the lobby of the club till showtime. It didn’t happen a lot, but enough for me to remember. I also recall that back at the beginning, when we’d dance with our wives in a club or a hotel ballroom, if the dance floor got even a little crowded, he was gone—sometimes leaving his wife stranded on the floor alone.
Dean’s worst moments were in the summer of 1951, when he learned we were going to have to work in a submarine.
We were just beginning preproduction on Sailor Beware for Hal Wallis. Preproduction involves a lot of things, but for the two of us it mainly meant reading the script and finding out what we’d be doing in the film! We knew there had been rumblings around the studio for months about Wallis’s plan to do a Martin and Lewis film in the Navy. When we heard the talk, we didn’t much care. We had a contract, and we would do the work we were told to do. (Does it sound joyless? It wasn’t always. But Hal Wallis did a lot to make it feel that way.)
Then we found out that Sailor Beware wasn’t just about the Navy—it was about the Silent Service, submarines.
Holy Christ!
I spoke with Wallis about Dean’s phobia, and he assured me that we would be working in mock-ups. No fourth wall, plenty of space when it was needed. I explained to Dean that he wouldn’t have to be in a real live submarine, and he was relieved—until we got to the location, the Naval Training Station at San Diego, aka the West Coast Main Facility of Submarine Warfare and Strategic Information of the United States Navy. Very, very impressive. And, to my partner, very unnerving.
After we checked into the Grant Hotel in San Diego, we were summoned by our assistant director to meet at the dock at San Diego Naval Pier and to board the U.S.S. Bashaw, a war submarine that would take us for a trial run from the pier to the outer ocean beyond Point Loma. Dean was fine until the sub’s commander, Captain Bob Froude, told us, in the kindest possible way, that no one could stand topside during a sub’s movement, particularly in the bay area.
So we boarded the submarine, and were invited to the captain’s wardroom, some thirty feet below deck. That’s when I saw Dean waver. He didn’t just waver. He bent, looking like a Slinky trying to find a place to hide. But down the conning-tower stairs we went—Dean, me, the captain, our assistant director, and some of the cast.
The padded walls of the wardroom were covered with plaques and photographs of the Bashaw in action—diving, trimming, sitting in port, under way. I stared, fascinated, until I noticed Dean getting