Gal may be comic’s kid

JERRY Lewis’ will leaves nothing to Suzan. Jerry Lewis’ will doesn’t even mention Suzan. So who’s Suzan? Suzan Lewis Minoret or Suzan Minoret Lewis — whichever she now uses (her temporary husband was named Minoret) — called to say: “There’s a time limit to challenge my father’s will. I need a lawyer. Some say they believe I have a claim.”

Suzan has been on talk shows before. Written a book before. Called me to report her parentage before.

She resembles Jerry. Her DNA is 80-plus percent positive with his eldest son.

Suzan’s very long story I know well. In the old days, headliners like Martin & Lewis and my comedian husband, Joey Adams, were stars at the Copacabana.

A-No. 1 nightclub for big-time entertainers and big-time spenders, the Copa was it. They did late shows at midnight.

Customers, VIPs, pals who later decorated police blotters smoked and drank there until 2:30 a.m. Ladyfriends, not necessarily of Tiffany variety, didn’t always belong to them, and nobody cared. Today restaurant Avra Estiatorio owns that location. Back then, the No. 1 to-beseen-joint? The Copa.

Offstage Jerry, who married more than once, was no hilarious-falldown, do-anything-for-alaugh dude.

The guy was fretful, cranky, not always friendly — but a bit of a player when it came to females.

Milton Berle introduced him to fashion model Lynn Dixon, who has since passed away. She and Jerry were close for years. Close enough to maybe possibly create Suzan. Attitudes were different then and funnyman fall-down-for-alaugh Jerry maybe thought a child out of wedlock would affect his career image. Whatever, he never off icially, even unofficially, acknowledged Suzan.

Jerry passed on in August, but — rife with demons — the will even omitted his legitimate biological offspring.

Disabled, homeless, struggling, helped by a stepbrother, unable to work except attempts at some motivational speaking, Suzan told me: “My mother even had a notarized letter acknowledging my birth. Still, his entourage wouldn’t allow me to see him before he died.

“Last we were together was 1980. In Paris. His wife wouldn’t let me near him. When I called, she said she’d give him a message. Even on the phone, he had to hang up fast.”

Lewis left us in Vegas. Neither of two New York attorneys I called would take Suzan’s case.