I've attended every Just For Laughs festival since 1986 in various capacities, from spectator, to onstage participant, to festival employee, to my current status as a member of the press corps (I have been covering the fest for the Montreal-based weekly The West End Times since 2008). Throughout this time, I have had my share of attending shows, hanging out backstage at several venues, to encounters with many up-and-coming comics and legends of comedy (and there have been plenty of them). And with all that, there have been plenty of funny, unusual, bizarre and special memories that I have always enjoyed recounting with friends and acquaintances who have also attended their fair share of Just For Laughs festivals.
People always ask me what is my all-time favorite Just For Laughs memory, and believe me, there are so many, I could put it all together in book form. However, there is one memory that I will always recall with a great deal of fondness, because thanks to chance and luck (and a great deal of subtle persistence), I got the rare opportunity to have a personal (yet brief) encounter with a true comedy legend.
The year was 1993. I was working in research and development for the recently-opened Just For Laughs Museum of Humour (which opened, coincidentally on April Fool's Day ... and it snowed that day!). The museum's main attraction at the time was its inaugural exhibition "Laughing Matters", a multi-media, interactive history of comedy and humour through the ages (I was assigned to research the part of the exhibition that dealt with American TV and radio comedy ... imagine getting paid to do that!).
Another part of the museum was the International Humour Hall of Fame, which started inducting English-language comedy pioneers two years earlier with the late Milton Berle, with Jerry Lewis and the Royal Canadian Air Farce becoming inductees during Just For Laughs' 10th anniversary edition in 1992. For its full year of the museum's operation, the festival and museum decided its hall of fame inductee would be a true living legend of comedy: George Burns. For those who are not students of classic comedy, George Burns was the gravel-voiced, cigar-smoking comedian who could tell great stories about his long lifetime in show business, tell some snappy jokes and "sing" a few old time ditties. He was also a best selling author, an Oscar-winning actor (he won as Best Supporting Actor in 1976 for his performance of aging vaudevillian Al Lewis in the hilarious "The Sunshine Boys"), and was best known as half of the popular comedy duo Burns and Allen for four decades through vaudeville, movies, radio and TV with his partner (and wife) Gracie Allen.
By 1993, Burns was 97 years old, still kept a busy schedule and was still performing in major concert halls around the world; in fact, he was signed to perform at the London Palladium on the occasion of his upcoming 100th birthday in 1996. It was only appropriate that with such an enduring, impressive career in show business, where he rubbed shoulders with and performed alongside some of the greatest names ever in the industry's golden age (his best friend was Jack Benny), that Burns become the next International Humour Hall of Fame inductee.
There was a lot of excitement that was generated when Just For Laughs announced that George Burns would be coming to Montreal during the festival to accept this honour. And as an added bonus, he was scheduled to perform a special one-man show at Place des Arts on the second-to-last night of the festival.
That sense of excitement was instilled in myself, too. I mean, it's not every day that such a living legend who practically spent his entire lifetime in show business would be coming to my hometown. Also, I had a personal goal to realize during Burns' brief trip to Montreal that July. Since 1988, I began to collect autographs of many of the comedy legends who appeared at Just For Laughs, when comedian/musician/author (and first Tonight Show host) Steve Allen autographed the cover of my copy of the festival program book (because I didn't have my copy of his 1960 memoir "Mark It and Strike It" handy at the time). From there, I decided to build a specialized collection of autographed books ... books written by comedians who would be making their way to Montreal for the festival. It continued in 1991 when Milton Berle signed my copy of his Joke File book. It then continued with autographed tomes that I managed to get from Jerry Lewis, Allan King, David Brenner, Joan Rivers, Dick Cavett, Carl Reiner, Bill Maher, Barry Humphries (aka Dame Edna), Ed McMahon, Cheech & Chong and John Cleese. For me, the proverbial brass ring would be having George Burns sign my hardcover copy of his 1976 memoir "Living It Up".
But how would I accomplish this?
Call it sheer dumb luck. That year, one of my main assignments for the festival was to help man the info kiosk the Just For Laughs Museum had in the lobby of the Delta, in order to attract artists and industry people to visit the museum and the exhibit. One person I saw at the booth was an elderly man in his 80s, who was about my height. I checkout out the name on his festival pass and it was Irving Fein. All of sudden, a bell of recognition rang in my head. I knew who this guy was ... he was George Burns' manager! I decided to introduce myself to Irving, and to break the ice, I told him that I read his 1977 biography of Jack Benny, the other legendary comedian whom he managed for many years. We talked for about a good 15-20 minutes about the book, the museum, and how Burns was enjoying his stay in Montreal. I figured this was the time to ask Irving that question if I could get George to sign my copy of his memoir. "Sure," he said. "Come see me at the museum following the induction ceremony and I will make sure he will autograph it for you." Bingo!!
Flash forward to the day of the induction ceremony. I was at the Delta Hotel lobby before I left for the museum, when I noticed something peculiar. George Burns was being transported around in a wheelchair, looking rather frail and every one of his 97 years. Was this the same George Burns who won an Oscar and a lot of laughs as Sunshine Boy Al Lewis? Or in the title role of "Oh, God!"??? Well those worries was put to rest when I saw him onstage to accept his International Humour Hall of Fame trophy, which was in front of a packed crowd of admirers, performers, industry people and media on the main floor of the museum. What I saw was the same George Burns that I was accustomed to seeing on TV and movies (walking arm and arm with two hot young women on either side of him). He was vibrant, sharp and answered every question thrown at him with a snappy reply; it was if he shed about 20 years off from his life. It just seemed that being onstage was the elixir to rejuvenate him, which turned him on like a light switch.
Well, George had a full hour or so with this crowd of admirers. He accepted his award with a lot of grace, answered questions of different topics (especially about how he manages to keep a daily schedule of activities at his advanced age); and there was even a mini-incident, in which a bound stack of rectangular-shaped confetti (which was thrown from the top floor of the museum's atrium), plummeted down at great speed and missed hitting Burns' head by a mere few inches (I just hate to think what would have happened if the bound confetti found its legendary target!).
As Burns left the stage, Irving Fein found me in the crowd and approached me.
"Stuart, I'm sorry, but I won't be able to have you meet Mr. Burns and have him sign your book. He has run behind schedule and has to rest for his show tonight," he said to me apologetically.
"Irving, it's no problem. I completely understand," I replied.
And everytime I tried to tell Irving it was no problem, he constantly apologized to me and explained George's situation. After all, I had no basis to argue with him. Burns was 97 years old and not as energetic like he used to be. And he did need his rest not only for his solo show at Place des Arts, but also a brief appearance at that evening's gala at the St. Denis Theatre, which was hosted by the late John Candy.
After a few more "I'm sorrys" and "I understands" exchanged between the two of us, Irving then paused. "Come with me," he said rather quickly. He then escorted me through the cordon of security people that were stationed at the entrance to the rear of the museum building, where a large black limousine was parked with its motor running.
He then opened the rear door and there was George Burns sitting comfortably in the back seat of the limo. "George. This is Stuart, and he was wondering if you could autograph his copy of one of your books," asked Irving.
Burns then gingerly took my book (where it was opened to the title page) and my pen, and signed it with the inscription "Best, George Burns" and then returned both to me.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Burns," I said with a mixture of awe and gratitude.
He quietly acknowledged it with a smile and a wave. As soon as it began, Burns turned around in his seat, Irving got into the front seat and the limo quickly drove away to the Delta Hotel.
I stood there for a moment feeling rather stunned and with a great sense of accomplishment. I looked down at the inscribed title page and realized that I just went through a hell of a brush with celebrity, not to mention I grabbed that brass ring!
As I headed back into the museum, that sense of accomplishment was still with me. As the gathered crowd dispersed, I noticed many industry people and journalists, many clutching a copy of one of Burns' books that they purchased that morning at the local Coles bookstore, expressing their disappointment that they never got a quick face-to-face with George Burns and get their books autographed. I guessed it proved how timing, luck, and a vast knowledge of comedy history can pay off once in a while.
A postscript: Burns performed a memorable solo show at Place des Arts, and during his brief gala appearance, moved the audience (and mostly everyone backstage) to tears with his touching song that paid tribute to his late wife (and comedy partner) Gracie Allen. And unfortunately, due to his increasingly frail health as he advanced with age, Burns never did make that show at the London Palladium (it was later changed to Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas). He died in 1996, just a few weeks after he celebrated his 100th birthday.
My autographed copy of Burns' memoir "Living It Up" still holds a special place in my bookcase. And just when I thought I could never surpass the high calibre of autographed books to add to my growing comedy collection, another brass ring quite accidentally fell on my lap. In the summer of 2010 (immediately following that year's Just For Laughs festival), I took a well-earned week-long vacation to Las Vegas. While killing a couple of hours before catching the Cirque de Soleil's Beatles show "Love" at the Mirage, I went across the street to the Palazzo, where there was a branch of the renowned Bauman Rare Books store. I got to talking with Megan, one of the store's employees, whom I quickly found out not only shared my passion for books, but also for classic movies and TV. She then showed me one of the store's recent acquisitions, a copy of Groucho Marx's memoir "The Secret Word Is Groucho"about his hit TV 1950s game show "You Bet Your Life". And best of all, it was autographed by the one, the only Groucho himself. After some brief back-and-forth negotiations -- not to mention the incentive of free shipping -- the book was finally mine.
Believe me, getting that rare tome autographed by my favorite comedian was quite a find and another fine addition to my library.
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