Dean & Me (A Love Story)
But we weren’t leaving anything to chance, either. Forty years earlier, when the great W.C. Fields had played Atlantic City as a young juggler, he’d come up with a publicity stunt known as “the drowning gag”. My dad told me about it, I told Dean (Martin), and we brought it back. When the beach was good and crowded, I’d wade out into the surf up to my chest, then suddenly start waving my arms and yelling in distress. Dean would splash out, drag me back to shore, throw me down on the sand, apparently comatose, and act like he was about to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. By this time, we’d have a nice crowd around us. But before he’d begin, I’d sit bolt upright and say, “I’d rather have a malted, sir!”
“We’re fresh out,” Dean would say, smooth as silk. Then: “Hey, don’t I know you?”
“I’m Jerry Lewis!”
“And I’m Dean Martin!”
“I know that—I’m at the 500 Club with you, first show is at eight o’clock!”
And we’d jump up and run like madmen, all the way back to the Princess Hotel.
—Jerry Lewis
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