Volunteering with Jerry Lewis was an up-all-night honor

I think Jerry Lewis has been very mistreated by the Muscular Dystrophy Organization. He didn't deserve its rude, abrupt treatment after so many years of dedicated service and hugely successful fundraising.

But I think I also know why the organization was less than cordial. Jerry is rude and abrupt himself. Lunching with girlfriends recently, one remembered that she once asked another friend if she would like to meet Jerry Lewis. The friend followed my pal over to Jerry, who glared at her and said, "And what do you want?"

You won't believe how far back I go with Jerry Lewis. How about 1957? I saw one of his last performances with Dean Martin as the Martin and Lewis comedy team, watching from backstage from a window in the hall at the Moulin Rouge in Hollywood. It was hilarious, of course. Jerry played a busboy with a huge metal tray of dishes stacked up, out in the back of the audience. Just as Dean started to sing, he dropped the tray with a huge crash-bang, with yelling and wonderful comments.

I also danced in the act he created alone, in 1958 after he and Dean broke up their partnership. Eight or so of us were chosen from the dancers in the Moulin Rouge show to work in his new act. We were choreographed to imitate Jerry, each of us individually, by jumping up and down pigeon-toed and yelling, "Hey, ladyyyyy!" It came naturally to me. Easy.

We did that on a turntable stage moving at 3 miles per hour that we ran up to and jumped on, dancing. I was good at that, having been in the Moulin Rouge show for over a year, and had done it in other shows. I usually held the new girl's hand and ran with her because they were always really scared, as I had been at first.

One night Jerry came to our dressing room, long white terrycloth robe, white towels around his neck. A really handsome man, but he was so unbelievably star-struck with himself, pedantic, condescending, even actually looked down his nose. He stood there smoking, semi-sitting on my dressing table, actually. We all smoked back then. We never figured out why he came to see us. Just basking in the glow of stardom, I suppose. Everybody wanted to come into our dressing room. I can bask, too.

Dick Stabile was the orchestra conductor at the Moulin. His brother Joe Stabile was first chair saxophone and a friend of all of us. Several girls in the show had crushes on Joey. Joey Stabile was the sweetest Italian musician you ever met. Later, he and his wife became Jerry's road managers, a huge job. Joey's wife, Claudia, kept things together even after Joey became infirm.

Joey Stabile had two sons, terrific boys and now men. Jerry gave them movie cameras for Christmas when they were little, and they became expert directors and cameramen. Want something filmed? Call the Stabile Bros. They're terrific.

In 1974 I went back to school at UNLV, and Eddie Foy III, a well-known Hollywood casting director, took a little hiatus from hectic Hollywood to come to UNLV and teach a class in casting and auditioning. I thought I was retired from acting, but like an old fire horse I heard the bell and dashed to sign up for that class. Eddie and I became friends since Jody Sloat and I were the only class members who kind of knew what he was talking about and had a SAG card.

So when Jerry Lewis' Muscular Dystrophy Telethon moved here, Eddie Foy III volunteered, as he had done in Hollywood, to handle the talent. Handling talent is a lot like herding cats, needing lots of wranglers, so he suggested/invited me to volunteer to help. Actually, it's a little bit of an honor to be allowed to volunteer for that event because of all the stars around that everybody wants to see. However, it's critical to know how to behave on a film set (Leave the stars alone, no chatting; no "May I have an autograph?" Don't stare. Don't take pictures). Everybody wants to do it, but few are allowed.

Staying up all night isn't that easy. Jerry was allowed to take a two-hour nap while another star covered for him. Jerry had to be alert.

Another dancer from the Moulin Rouge had two little toddler boys who tragically had muscular dystrophy. She and her husband, another dancer, were both out of work. She told me she managed to get in touch with Jerry, who personally got on the phone and got help for the boys.

So I don't care what anyone says or what the newspapers have written or what everyone knows. I think Jerry Lewis is wonderful. If you were a genius, constantly harassed by fans, you might be rude and abrupt, too. I am myself, sometimes. It's not bragging or conceited if you've actually done it. He has.

Betty Bunch is a former dancer. Today, she works with the national Elderhostel Association. Contact her at bettybunch100@gmail.com.