Labor Day used to mean staying up too late, watching a man in a rumpled tuxedo beg America to call in and pledge money for kids he called his own. The MDA kids were his kids. He was their guy.
Younger readers — and we mean anyone under 40 — probably don't know who Jerry Lewis was, so you'll need to search YouTube to understand this feature.
Lewis started as a nightclub act in 1946 with a guy named Dean Martin. Dino was the pride of Steubenville, the small steel town in the eastern part of the state that also produced Jimmy "the Greek" Snyder. Together, Martin and Lewis became the biggest comedy act in the country, making 16 semi-funny movies.
Then, like most things in the entertainment world where money and egos can rage, it all blew up.
The partnership ended in 1956. Martin, tired of playing second fiddle, went solo. Most people predicted he'd flop. Instead, he became a part of the legendary Rat Pack (see the original Ocean's Eleven — the one made before Brad Pitt and the entire Peach Section gang were born), and in 1964, he knocked the Beatles off the top of the charts with "Everybody Loves Somebody" — the song later etched on his gravestone.
Lewis had already moved on. He and Martin mentioned the Muscular Dystrophy Association on their NBC show in 1951, and hosted an MDA telethon together in 1956, right before they split. Lewis kept going alone. By 1966, he was hosting a real Labor Day telethon on a single New York station. It raised just over $1 million.
The telethon moved to Las Vegas in 1973, running as long as 21 and a half hours straight. Ed McMahon co-hosted for four decades. A tote board — an actual mechanical board with flipping numbers that seem to run on drum rolls — climbed higher through the night.
Local stations broke away for their own segments. Cleveland's WBNX carried the telethon locally for years, broadcasting from MetroHealth Medical Center. Other Ohio markets ran cut-ins too.
Firefighters held out their boots at intersections. McDonald's and United Airlines signed on as sponsors. 7-Eleven promised a bicycle for every $200 raised in some markets.
The most talked-about moment came in 1976, when Frank Sinatra brought out Dean Martin during his own scheduled appearance — the first time Lewis and his old partner had appeared together in 20 years. For once, Lewis didn't have a joke ready.
Millions of neighborhood kids got swept into the 21 hours of excitement. Bake sales. Lemonade stands. Coin drives. They carried their haul down to the local TV station personally, sometimes getting a few seconds on air. You'd call in your pledge, and somebody on the other end trusted you to mail a handwritten check. Or in some cases, believe it or not, people sent cash.
At the very end, Lewis would sing "You'll Never Walk Alone" — exhausted, off-key, and completely sincere.
The telethon is television history. What's left is mattress sales and grill discounts. There was something simple to it all — a feeling only those of us who once lived in an unplugged world might appreciate.
But that's all gone now, and we're worse off for it.