Remembering Jerry Lewis
When we learned last week that Jerry Lewis had died, my husband and I reminisced over some favorite pictures from the past. 1986: Jerry is holding our infant son Noah. 1993: Jerry is playing catch with our 4-year old son Mac.
From birth on, our boys knew this legendary entertainer and humanitarian as a family friend. But that relationship blossomed only because of our other good friends in the Milwaukee area: Matt Klockow, Ben Teraberry and Mike Neufeldt. All three had muscular dystrophy, and they were the kids that mattered most to Jerry.
To understand these friendships, step back into the 1970s, where the story begins.
I was a reporter and anchor at WITI-TV (Channel 6). Our station was part of the Muscular Dystrophy Association’s “Love Network,” broadcasting the MDA Telethon each Labor Day. On short notice, I was asked to serve as a local cohost with Tom Hooper.
The national telethon segments featured Jerry and a cadre of stars. During breaks, we local hosts interviewed hometown children and families about their lives with muscular dystrophy, and sometimes, ever-so-delicately, about the specter of death.
I saw the hope that the telethon inspired in families. I felt their love for its national host — because for 24 hours each year, Jerry Lewis forced the world to face their everyday reality and to invest in the cures they prayed for.
During that first telethon, I learned how much I didn’t know. I had read up on the many forms of MD but felt inadequate to speak with depth and first-hand knowledge.
I vowed to be better prepared for next time. Fortunately, I had good teachers.
A little boy named Matt Klockow was the local MD poster child. His family welcomed me into their lives. Barring a scientific breakthrough or a miracle, Matt’s Duchenne MD would relentlessly define his future: leg braces, then a manual wheel
chair, then an electric wheel chair, then immobility, then …
But we didn’t dwell on that. We played and went to restaurants. We saw “The Muppet Movie” with his sister Missy. We talked sports and school and Jerry Lewis. Jerry was his hero. As years passed, that status never changed.
Jerry and Matt
When Matt was a young adult, he was hospitalized with pneumonia. He’d battled infections and viruses before, but this time, he was exhausted. Hospital staff feared he was giving up. With Matt’s parent’s approval, I reached out to Jerry’s manager, Joey Stabile.
He and Lewis had a code for these situations. It was a “red blanket call,” a critical but private contact. Within 24 hours, Jerry was on the phone with Matt, telling him he cared, urging him to fight. Then he called me. “You never know,” Jerry said, “I can’t explain it. Sometimes it makes a difference.” It did. Matt rallied, recovered and was strong enough to join us on that year’s telethon.
But Lewis didn’t stop there. In 1993, when he visited Milwaukee for Harley-Davidson’s 90th reunion, he made a surprise visit to the Klockow home. By now, Matt was confined to bed, his mouth and nose covered by a breathing mask. But his eyes sparkled as his lifelong hero pulled up a chair at his bedside. Lewis took a cue from the posters on Matt’s bedroom wall and chatted him up about the Packers and Brewers and MDA. And, of course, he cracked jokes. When Matt’s mom, Sue, came in to hook up the goopy formula that nourished Matt through a feeding tube in his stomach, Jerry didn’t miss a beat: “Hey, I’m hungry, Matt. You gonna finish all that?”
Then there was Ben
In the 1980s, Ben Teraberry of Glendale also served as local MDA poster child. Ben was wise beyond his 9 years. At a talk to MDA volunteers, he inspired them with his definition of commitment: “You can’t be just telethon friends. You have to be all-year-round friends.” And we were that, sharing outings from Great America to the State Fair, where Ben was the only child I’ve ever known to forgo a cream puff in favor of a giant dill pickle, which he devoured with joy.
Tom Hooper and I believed Ben’s character and communication skills could make him a perfect national goodwill ambassador for MDA. We created a tape of Ben and his observations on life and sent it to MDA. His eloquence was just as obvious to them. Ben was selected over many other candidates for the national role as Jerry’s partner.
At MDA conferences and workshops, Jerry would introduce Ben as his “little philosopher.” It was the perfect setup for classic Lewis schtick: Ben would speak with the purposefulness of a grown up while beside him Jerry could mug like a little kid who was wowed by his partner’s message.
One evening in Las Vegas, after Jerry performed a show, he welcomed the Teraberry family to his dressing room. Jerry knew that Ben played the saxophone, so he introduced him to the man who was his opening act, jazz legend Mel Torme, and watched with a smile as the junior and senior musicians talked shop.
Enter Mikey
While Ben was MDA’s national star, his 7-year-old friend, Mikey Neufeldt of New Berlin, served as our local ambassador. Mikey had endured countless invasive procedures to deal with his hard-to-diagnose variety of MD, yet he was cheerful and extraordinarily empathetic. Mikey always wanted to know how
you were doing. He had a magical effect on everyone around him. Including Jerry Lewis. I watched it happen. Jerry was in Milwaukee for an MDA fundraiser just as Ben’s national role was winding down. Mikey and Ben were seated together at the dinner. Jerry arrived and went to greet his sidekick, Ben, who immediately introduced him to Mikey. As they chatted, Jerry was simply smitten.
While delivering his dinner speech, Jerry kept looking directly at Mikey, who returned the favor with his wide, smiling eyes.
Lewis finished his remarks and pulled me aside, whispering his wish. What if Mikey could succeed Ben? He knew it would break precedent to have two consecutive choices from the same state. No matter. He said, “Bob Ross (MDA executive director) is gonna kill me for this. But one wonderful boy introduced me to another. It’s perfect.”
It was, actually. Mikey became the next national ambassador.
Together, Jerry and Mikey advocated for MDA before business, medical and civic groups. They visited the White House for a photo shoot with President Ronald Reagan. They shared the stage on the Labor Day Telethon.
When Mikey grew into Mike, graduated from Marquette University and rolled his wheelchair across the stage for commencement, he already had his celebration planned: A trip to Las Vegas, site of the telethon, for a little legal gambling and a Jerry Lewis show and visit. Our family tagged along.
Mike and Jerry saw each other one last time in 2014. Lewis was performing in Aurora, Ill. He was 88, and frail, but not too tired for a post-show huddle with Mike. A year later Mike’s beautiful heart would give out, just as Matt’s did in 2003.
Now we’ve lost Jerry. And I’m cherishing those pictures of him with my sons.
How did we grow so close that I can tell all these stories — and more? It happened over several decades, as my television station poured its resources into Jerry’s cause. As our general manager Andy Potos joined the national MDA board. As Tom Hooper and I were asked to help train other hosts and stations to adopt our culture of volunteerism. The connection endured even after the telethon itself faded into history.
Most of all, it happened because of three special Milwaukee men: Matt, Ben and Mike. My bond with them became a bridge to Jerry’s trust and affection, something he didn’t extend lightly. To earn it, you had to follow young Ben Teraberry’s wise advice:
Don’t be just telethon friends. Be all-year-round friends.