Remembering the Annual Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon

Remember the Jerry Lewis Telethons? Every Labor Day, they’d run for hours on television raising money for children afflicted with muscular dystrophy (MD). 

Every Labor Day, the annual Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon was a national ritual. It marked the end of summer, and the start of fall. The show and pledge drive was painful to watch at times, but also gave us many tear-jerking moments.

Joyous, annoying, camp, shameless, magical, memorable, dull — all those adjectives apply.

At times, the telethon was must-see TV. Most of the duration, clocking in at 21 hours straight on live television, Lewis onstage puffing away constantly on a lit cigarette, it was an endless parade of D-List celebrities interspersed with agonizing promo pieces that critics insisted made the handicapped objects of pity. At its height in 1976, which was watched at least in part by 85 million people, the MDA Telethon was bigger than The Tonight Show.

The MDA Labor Day Telethon ran from 1966 until 2010. That’s when the event’s grandfatherly patriarch, Jerry Lewis was rudely informed it was time to step off the stage and hand over the microphone. That pretty much ended the telethon, though there have been failed attempts to rekindle the spectacle which raised hundreds of millions in donations over the years. No doubt, Lewis was an immensely talented performer, perfectly suited as the conduit to host. He was the iconic face of the event, so much so everyone called the objects of the spectacle, “Jerry’s Kids.”

This isn’t intended as a criticism of Lewis or the MDA Telethon. But I still have some questions. Was this all really a good thing?

Muscular dystrophy is still with us. It hasn’t been cured. Honestly, it’s not something I’ve thought about in a long time. Perhaps that’s the real power of these charity events and telethons, which is bringing special needs to the public’s attention. That’s certainly a good thing. Better to be aware than ignored.

But I still wish to raise a few points for discussion: What happened to all that money? Who got it? Where did it go?

On average, MDA Telethons raised about $60 million a year, sometimes more. Recall the huge “$$$” tote board onstage that was constantly up ticking to a monetary goal, and then once certain thresholds were crossed, mini-New Year’s Eve celebrations would break out while the audience cheered and the band played and confetti flew, at least until the next $10 million cycle was reached.

Some live moments were riveting and cringeworthy, all at the same time. Every few hours, it seemed, some local kid was invited up on stage clutching a piggy bank. Or, a 7-year-old girl forked over the entirety of the $42.65 in quarters, dimes, and nickels she raised for MDA by running a neighborhood lemonade stand. These instances were heartwarming, but also bizarre given the executive base salary of MDA’s president earned about half-a-mil a year. Get out there and sell some more lemonade, kid.

Many advocates for the disabled, including some of “Jerry’s Kids,” came to despise the MDA Telethon over time, despite its best intentions. They claimed the telethon used handicapped children as props. Some critics even claimed the portrayal of victim-children widened the divide between able-bodied people and the disabled. Some of the images that were shown even triggered fear.

There was also intense debate within MDA about diverting the public’s attention to cures to “normalize” people with disabilities, which entirely ignored more urgent issues like providing accessible buildings, transportation, employment opportunities, and other basic rights. It also paid little attention to adults. Despite about 70 percent of all people with MD being adults, the telethon solely promoted children and did not fully represent the real lives of people who lived with MD.

Still, it’s hard to argue with the impact of the MDA Telethon and its legacy as a cultural force.

The marathon of a telethon had a bit of everything, though it was often a tedious mess. We’d get the latest medical research updates (a cure is just around the corner!), stale celebrity interviews, a parade of public service announcements, guilt-inducing videos, off-key musical performances, and lots of has-been stand-up comedy skits. How many comedians were shoved onstage by their agents to do decades-old acts and try and be funny at 9:35 am just moments after everyone watched a gut-wrenching video of Jerry’s kids pleading tearfully from wheelchairs? Get out there, Shecky. Be funny. You’ll do great.

Most MDA Telethons were held in Las Vegas inside casinos. I attended one towards the end, which was at the South Point Casino inside the main showroom. It was free and the audience could come and go as they pleased. I was at the casino and stepped in purely as a curiosity, and sure enough, there he was — the man, Jerry Lewis was on stage with Ed McMahon as his amiable sidekick. That afternoon, he was interviewing the old film star, Mitzi Gaynor. The back and forth onstage between Lewis and his guest was about as riveting as a broken slot machine, but the whole showcase with Jerry and a live band, and cameras showing every second was still pretty cool. The spectacle reflected the whole embodiment of Americana — grand showmanship, crassness, superficiality, and genuine need, all revolving around money. I stayed for maybe an hour. The showroom was half full, or half empty depending on perspective, if that. Empty seats? How could this be? That’s Jerry Lewis up there. It seemed the MDA Telethon had run its course. The final hurrah.

Lewis was sincere in his care, compassion, and commitment to MDA and the children–I believe. Unfortunately, he also made a number of controversial statements later in his life and was accused of sexual harassment by multiple women — charges that severely tarnished his legacy. A few years ago, the final vestiges of Lewis’ personal possessions were sold off at a public auction held at a Las Vegas casino. The sale included many items from Lewis’ home, including everything from coffee tables to bar glasses to ashtrays fetching only slightly above garage sale bids. The crass exploitation of dead celebrityism for profit was more embarrassing than sad.

Today is Labor Day, but I’ll also remember this as the day of the MDA Telethon for all its awkward splendor.