Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis: An Exclusive Look at the Rise and Fall of the Legendary Comedy Duo
Radio and television helped them achieve success, but 17 movies together tore them apart
Hollywood’s history is filled with legendary comedy teams, each leaving behind a unique imprint on the world of entertainment. Some, like Laurel & Hardy, shared a deep camaraderie that shone through both on and off the screen. Others, such as Abbott & Costello, concealed real-life tensions behind impeccably timed routines that kept audiences laughing. Then there are partnerships that began with mutual admiration, flourished into something extraordinary and ultimately collapsed under the weight of their own success. Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis—better known as Martin & Lewis—is a perfect example.
For many, the legacy of Martin & Lewis is defined by two things: the well-documented years of estrangement following their split and the 17 films they made during their rapid ascent, beginning with My Friend Irma (1949) and concluding with Hollywood or Bust (1956). Yet beyond their cinematic success lies a wealth of performances that showcased their unmatched spontaneity and creative brilliance—moments that, for years, remained overlooked or forgotten.
According to Michael J. Hayde, author of the book Side by Side: Dean Martin & Jerry Lewis on TV and Radio, it was in the unscripted chaos of live television and the immediacy of radio where the duo truly thrived, crafting moments of comedic gold that often eclipsed their work in film. Despite their groundbreaking contributions to these mediums, this chapter of their career remains one of the most under-appreciated aspects of their enduring legacy.
Woman’s World (WW): What drew you to explore their work, particularly on television and radio?
Michael J. Hayde (MJH): When I was a teenager, my mother used to tell me about seeing them on The Colgate Comedy Hour on TV. From that, I had a feeling that there was something unique about them that the rest of us weren’t going to get to see. That feeling stayed with me for years until the videos came out, and it became clear my mother knew exactly what she was talking about.
They were a unique team, very spontaneous, with a combination of slapstick and charm that amazed me. That’s why I decided to write about their work on radio and television. At the time, biographies about them, either jointly or separately, mostly paid lip service to that aspect of their careers without examining it in detail.
WW: Did their working relationship evolve in a way that mirrored what was happening behind the scenes?
MJH: Absolutely. Their shows often reflected their relationship. The early shows are a lot of fun, and it’s clear they were enjoying themselves. Later, when their personal relationship began to fray, it showed. By their last Colgate Comedy Hour in November 1955, it’s almost painful to watch. They weren’t relating to each other at all and didn’t even seem to like each other much.
WW: What made Martin & Lewis distinct from other comedy teams like Laurel & Hardy or Abbott & Costello?
MJH: Abbott & Costello relied on burlesque routines like “Who’s on First” and others. They were very talented, but ultimately an ordinary team—one of many in vaudeville and film.
Laurel & Hardy, on the other hand, are often seen as the template of two guys who love one another, even if it’s not built into the material. For instance, Oliver Hardy’s frustration with Stan Laurel’s dim-wittedness is funny, but there’s an underlying affection between them that’s more subtle.
With Martin and Lewis, it’s all over the top. Jerry, of course, was an unrestrained Id. That was basically his personality, and Dean was cool, calm and collected and was able to reel this guy back in from the brink of insanity time and time again. It’s obvious that they’re enjoying one another; they laugh at each other’s ad-libs, they’ll jump on top of each other. Dean will stick his fingers in Jerry’s mouth and pull Jerry towards him — Dean actually sticks his finger up one of Jerry’s nostrils to grab him. The intimacy that’s there is just astonishing.
WW: What can you tell us about Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis’s early careers and how they first met?
MJH: Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis were working different nightclubs in New York City in 1945 when they first met. It was probably inevitable that they would wind up on the same bill. At some point, Jerry was acting as an emcee; he would host the evening and also perform an act. His act at the time involved miming to popular records as a pantomime. He gesticulated wildly and made faces to certain recordings. It got laughs but was really a one-note thing.
Dean, on the other hand, was the crooner with a husky voice that wasn’t necessarily as pure as Frank Sinatra’s, but he had a certain magnetism. It just took him a while to find himself. When I was writing my book, I came across a review from that time that said, even though they didn’t interact with each other, the verdict was that Jerry was “a bright youngster who needs more schooling as an emcee, but otherwise he’s OK,” while Dean was described as “the show’s weak spot.” The reviewer noted, “He’s got a nice voice, but he lacks the feel necessary to reach the customer.”
This is where they were when they met, but they became friends. Dean said he admired the fact that Jerry was always in there pushing, trying his best to reach the audience. And Jerry was just stunned and in awe of this laid-back guy who really didn’t care one way or the other whether the audience liked him or not. He was going to get up there and sing his songs and move on. At least it seemed like he didn’t care; it was just what he was projecting, that he was doing you a favor.
WW: How did they decide to become a team?
MJH: In July 1946, they were booked as solo acts at the 500 Club in New York City. That had happened before, but this time they decided to create an act together. As Dean later put it, they were sitting in a hotel room coming up with bits, but it wasn’t jelling on paper. What ended up working was going on stage with a who-the-hell-cares attitude. The crowd went wild.
It was the improvisation between the two and just the fact that they seemed to like each other. They’d go into a routine and in the middle of it they’d go into something else, and then they’d come back to the first thing. They were just doing stuff that nobody had seen. As a team, they had such a physical contrast with macho-man Dean and the weird little guy. And even though they were close to each other in terms of height, Jerry would crouch down and Dean would appear to tower over him. It was just so different. They decided to become a team and would play to each other’s strengths, to the point where Dean would sing and Jerry would go down into the orchestra pit to conduct and create havoc.
WW: Would you say the act evolved in different ways as they grew more successful?
MJH: As Martin and Lewis began building their reputation, they started playing better nightclubs. At the Copacabana in April 1948, they were initially a supporting act, but after one performance, the management had no choice but to make them headliners. Their 40 minutes of madness eclipsed the show’s star, Vivian Blaine, who couldn’t compete.
From there, they started getting radio gigs, which triggered interest from television networks. They appeared on the first episode of Ed Sullivan’s variety show, Toast of the Town (later The Ed Sullivan Show), in June 1948. Their stay at the Copacabana was extended by three months, after which they traveled to Hollywood to appear at the acclaimed Slapsie Maxie nightclub. The audience there was filled with, among others, movie stars and movie executives, which (in the domino effect of their career) led them to several appearances on The Bob Hope Show, everything continuing to snowball from there.
WW: What was their experience on radio like?
MJH: In 1949, they agreed to star in their own NBC radio show, which ran until 1953. Radio was a very different experience for them. On radio, they had to stick to a script; at the very beginning they did not have any real creative control, although several of their catchphrases came from the show. Jerry at that point was already starting to look at Dean and go, “Are you for real?” That became a standard line. But for that show, they put them into a situation comedy type of a thing where the two of them were aspiring nightclub performers and the plots would deal with them getting a new show together or going down to the studio to record something. There was one memorable episode because it was so badly written where Tony Martin’s fan club tries to sue Dean Martin for using that last name — it sounds funnier than it plays. The radio show had an interesting concept, it was just ineptly handled.
At one point, they got into a very long story where the two of them were going to buy and operate their own nightclub. That made for some interesting situations and they brought in supporting characters, but it was pretty obvious it wouldn’t last much longer. The show didn’t really build an audience, because it started before they made their first motion picture appearance — and even though it continued after their first film, My Friend Irma, where everybody started paying attention to these two. But mainstream America, the people who don’t go to nightclubs, still didn’t know them, so it didn’t build enough of a listening audience and the show ended up going off the air.
WW: What were the circumstances behind their transition to television?
MJH: In 1950, The Colgate Comedy Hour was conceived and they became part of it. It was a show where a series of hosts would alternate weeks. Martin and Lewis made eight appearances during that first season — actually nine, because they also guested on a show that was hosted by Phil Silvers. They got the biggest ratings, because the show was just so much different from what the other hosts were doing. It was more freeform; Jerry didn’t hesitate to ad-lib strange introductions to Dean’s songs, or he’d run around the theater and show the other cameras, or play around with the cameras. It was definitely something that the other hosts weren’t doing. And as I say, their charm is best appreciated when it’s visual; when you see all the physical activities that are part and parcel of their partnership.
They were in such demand, that NBC was willing to bring them back to radio just to keep them on the air. So they did a second radio series that lasted two seasons. It was written by their TV writers and played to their strengths. It was more of a variety show. Dean would come on as the “Master of Ceremonies,” he’d sing a song, then he’d introduce Jerry. They’d do a little schtick and bring on a guest star, who they’d do a sketch with, and then Dean would sing again. All of it played better than the hackneyed plots that they were trying to deal with in their earlier radio show.
WW: They also enjoyed big screen success, starring in 17 movies between 1949 and 1956, so what led to their eventual breakup?
MJH: Both men were ambitious and wanted to be successful, but Jerry wanted it to be more than that. As he later put it, he wanted to be the King of Showbiz. He wanted to learn how to produce and direct and create his own films. He was starting to envision situations where his character was more than just the crazy guy, he also wanted to be sympathetic. He wanted to be more of a “lovable schnook,” which was how he originally termed it. And that played havoc with Dean early on — he was already beginning to sense that as far as their films were concerned. And remember, the films were going to be their legacy, because the thought at the time was that TV and radio were aired once and gone. Nobody thought about rebroadcasting kinescopes, because they only existed for one-time airing for cities that couldn’t telecast live.
It was their firm belief that the series of films they starred in would be what would stand the test of time, but most of them were cut from the same cloth. Dean was the smooth sharpie and sometimes a real slimy guy. But then, after interacting with Jerry, who was the lovable guy and the funny guy, Dean would eventually see the light and by the last reel he would be the good guy and would help out with whatever Jerry was doing. It was the same formula time and time again, and Dean was getting tired of it.
He wanted to do something more ambitious, but he realized he wasn’t going to get that chance. And now that Jerry was bent on becoming a sympathetic character at all times, even on TV, he knew what was going to happen. He was going to end up playing the one-dimensional heavy who becomes nice in the last five minutes of the show. Like I said, he was getting tired of that. Also, he was beginning to make a mark as a singer for the first time with “That’s Amore,” which was from their 1953 film The Caddy. That became a huge smash and was even nominated as Best Song for the Oscars. So Dean wanted to pursue more of that as well, and he wasn’t getting the chance to do that in the films, because the emphasis was slowly becoming more about Jerry and what Jerry was going to do in this situation and what Jerry was goIng to do when something goes wrong and how he’s going to react to it.
Dean understood just what his strength was in the act. He once said, “I’m the straight man. If I was jealous, this act would have folded years ago.” So, it wasn’t jealousy, it was ambition that broke them up, and Dean didn’t want to work with a guy who was spending all this time up in the control room lining up shots, or telling the director what to do, or working with the musicians what their contribution was going to be. Jerry was doing all of those things for both film and TV. Jerry was trying to take over.
Jerry later said, “I tried to tell Dean that this is what we should do for our career and he didn’t agree with me and I was terribly hurt by him and what he did. But in retrospect that was wrong, I had no right to expect it.” But at the time there was a great deal of bitterness between the two of them that just festered and eventually spilled out. You can see it happening when you’re watching their TV work later on. I tried in my book to put some context so that everyone would know, “OK, this is what was going on behind the scenes at the time their show was done.” The thing is, the media did love Jerry. He was the guy who seemed to grab all the attention, the one who was swinging on the chandelier and the one who drove into a camera and knocked it over while it was shooting.
But the thing to remember is that while Jerry was the center of attention, Dean was just as enjoyable in the beginning and, in many ways, just as funny. It was just a different kind of humor and people got that. But the main reaction was to Jerry; he was the catalyst. As we discussed, in the films that was absolutely true. It was less obvious on TV, but it gradually became more obvious as Jerry became determined to play the sympathetic, likable character and not just the crazy guy with the handsome partner.
WW: There’s irony in the fact that with the end of the team, Dean’s career in singing and acting soared, while Jerry, after initially success, struggled to find a new path for himself.
MJH: Jerry was so in love with show business that he tried reinventing himself time and time again. You saw that when he did Martin Scorsese’s dramatic picture King of Comedy, and dramatic TV shows like Wiseguy. Then, of course, he became an elder statesman of comedy. When his Paramount contract expired, he went over to Columbia and started trying to do more sophisticated humor, but was having a hard time finding his way. He was still going back to the idiot kid from time to time, because he felt like that’s what audiences expected of him.
Meanwhile, Dean had become a very fine actor. And then, of course, he had his TV variety show, which really struck a nerve with people — it’s amazing how powerful television can be when it’s done well. On top of that, suddenly his records were selling better, because he was now plugging them on TV. And he was able to maintain his motion picture career while doing TV. So, yes, Dean was more visible and his films were better, because he was playing a variety of characters and doing them very well. At the same time, Jerry was falling out of favor and eventually, by the early ’70s, had stopped making movies altogether and his life pretty much went into the muscular dystrophy telethons.
WW: They reconciled later in life, didn’t they?
MJH: Their relationship remained strained for years, but they had a significant reunion in 1976 during Jerry’s MDA Telethon, orchestrated by Frank Sinatra. After the tragic death of Dean’s son in a 1987 plane crash, they began communicating more regularly. Jerry claimed they spoke daily, though it was likely more casual. Still, the animosity had subsided and they made peace. Jerry came to the funeral; didn’t announce himself, just stood in the back, never made his presence known. He just happened to have been seen by Dean’s manager and the manager later in the day said, “Did you know Jerry was there?” Dean was astonished and asked his manager to get Jerry on the phone. Dean had never called Jerry; Jerry had called him a couple of times, but this was the first call that he made. The two of them spoke for 20 minutes say some sources, though how long doesn’t matter. They made nice and after that Dean stopped making cracks about Jerry, even when he was just clowning around, and Jerry started his great push to portray their friendship as having been reignited with the stories about calling him every day. Whereas the reality was a much more casual thing, but at least there wasn’t the animosity.
WW: How do you view their legacy?
MJH: Their legacy separately and as a team lives on, but in terms of the latter, I closed the book with their own observations. Dean described their legacy as, “With Jerry and me, it was mostly just doing what we felt and it was a lot of fun.” Jerry said, “It’s two guys who had more fun than the audience,’ and that’s how I feel, too. Watching them do their nightclub routines on The Colgate Comedy Hour or even in many of their sketches, particularly in the early years where the two of them are not taking it seriously and are ad-libbing constantly, and making fun of the props and things like that, it’s a joy to behold. It’s so different and so refreshing. It’s anarchy slapstick and warmth just melded together into a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.
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