Jacki Gleason
We find a man quite different than the characters he played on TV and the movies, from Ralph Cramden in the Honeymooners to Sheriff Buford T. Justus in the Smoky and the Bandit movies.
Here is the article in its entirety, written by Edith Efron (1922 – April 20, 2001) American journalist and author who wrote frequently for TV Guide.
On modern music: "The lives people lead are so limp today that they crave modern music. It seems to give them some stiffness, some rhythm, some beat, some illusion of purpose. But it provides only temporary relief. It goes nowhere. It leaves them with no feeling." On Plato: "Plato was one of the stupidest men in the world. He thought that if a child was strong he should be made into a soldier; if he was active he should be made into an athlete. He completely forgot human desires in building his system. It was the stupidest thing he could do."
On. delinquency: "I hear people say we can erase juvenile delinquency—all we have to do is build another playground. That's ridiculous. What do you do on a playground—shoot a couple of baskets? What's wrong with kids today is mental unemployment."
On educational television: "They say we should have educational programs on TV. Who will select the education? Who will select the philosophy that television will present to the public? That's the guy I want to meet. Once we have that in television, we have what is almost a dictator."
On pity: "I dislike pity in any form. I think it's an excuse for cowardice. The great masochistic tranquilizer is self-pity. If you have a problem and you try to figure it out—that's much more heroic than moaning and groaning and whining." On sin: "I've always believed that most sins are committed not because of the inability to control them, but because of the ability to perform them."
Jackie Gleason is also an idealist who can speak candidly about his ideals. One sunny morning on a Miami golf course he sat peacefully on a bench with a half mile of velvety grass rolling away behind him and communicated some of them to us. "Life is so quick," he said thoughtfully. "If you got to the end and you discovered that you'd accomplished nothing, that would be a terrifying shock. That, I think, is the real fear of death—the fear that you are wasting your life.
"As far back as I can remember, way back when I was 5 years old, I wanted life to be lovely, warm, thrilling. I wanted life to be beautiful and I wanted to contribute some-thing to its beauty. That's why I became an artist. I escaped from reality into the world of illusion. "All my life I've had a purpose, a central theme to my existence. People who lack a purpose are unhappy, directionless. They're dissatisfied. Worst of all, they can't do anything well. It frightens them. People give up too easily. They don't accept the ne-cessity of struggle. They don't realize that without obstacles to surmount, without the courage to surmont them, there can be no achievement. Courage, confidence in yourself, is one of the most necessary requisites of any kind of personality." Jackie himself is a man of astonishing self-confidence in the realm of his work. But when he speaks of his own abilities, he is not boasting. His eyes are serious, his voice is calm, almost impersonal —as though he were evaluating his own artistry from the out-side. "I have no use for humility," he says. "I am a fellow with an exceptional talent. In my work, I stand or fall by my own judgment."
Outside the realm of his work, however, Jackie Gleason's imperious certainty collapses. He talks of the world outside of show business as though it were an unknown and unknowable territory. "The world is mystery," he says. "Science gives you proof without certainty. Faith gives you emotional certainty without proof. Intelligence and logic are hazardous, risky instruments. You can't know anything definitely."
In this unknowable universe Jackie is not a brave man. In it he does not "stand or fall by his own judgment." He submits to rules devised by others which he does not fully understand. He is engaged in an unending and often anguished struggle to understand and comply with the moral tenets of Catholicism. "You must have rules," he says. "You can sin and rationalize it away, but when you have a set of rules to go by, it makes it a little more difficult to explain away your iniquities."
Gleason is humble, almost child-like in his admiration of men who are "spiritual." Two of his closest friends are actor Jack Haley ("He's a deeply spiritual man. I love a person who has spiritual intentions, spiritual desires and goals") and Bishop Fulton J. Sheen ("I absorb his spirituality, his knowledge, his intelligence"). Even his highly publicized friendship with Toots Shor he describes in essentially moral terms: "Toots and I share our inadequacies. But it's our very knowledge of values that enables us to share our inadequacies."
He accepts the Catholic doctrine of original sin and his deepest concern is over the issue of moral guilt. His discussions with Bishop Sheen revolve endlessly around one theme: "How do you determine moral responsibility? Is the same act equally immoral if committed with different motives? How guilty are you?" He also is given to long discussions about volition with lawyer Edward Bennett Williams: "What is free will? How free is a man to choose his acts? Where exactly does moral responsibility lie? How guilty are you?"
Jackie Gleason has a foot in two worlds. In the world of "illusion" he is proud, independent, courageous — he is "The Great One." In the world of "reality" he is uncertain, self-castigating, fearful — he is "The Guilty One." He is almost two distinct people, with completely contradictory and warring mental characteristics. Both "The Great One" and "The Guilty One" are branded into the comedy he purveys on the screen. It is the mentally efficient "Great One" who is the decisive judge, the powerful artist, the practical promoter of his theatrical enterprises. It is the know-nothing "Guilty One" who actually contributes the characterizations that have become so famous over the years.
Jackie's characters, he says, reflect his own "view of good and evil." He discusses his sinners: "Reggie," he says, "lets moral inhibitions fly. He drinks. He goes with girls. He kicks his mother in the teeth. Charlie Bratten, the Loud Mouth, is insecure and tries to make his fellow man small so that he can gain some stature —a sin we are all guilty of. Ralph Cramden is a classic example of the inadequate who believes himself adequate but who must face reality."
Even more significant are the characters that embody Jackie's concept of virtue. They are the two helplessly unintelligent buffoons — The Poor Soul and Crazy Guggenham (played by Frank Fontaine). "The Poor Soul is perfect. He's virtue. He's the square. He's a good Christian. Crazy Guggenham, too, is the embodiment of innocence — not very intelligent, childlike, kind." The strange truth is that The Poor Soul and Crazy Guggenham are satires on the Christian virtues; they are Jackie Gleason's versions of Dostoyevsky's "The Idiot." Whatever one may think of Jackie as artist or thinker, one thing is obvious. He is a fascinatingly complex human being and not a caricature. Why has he been seen throughout the years chiefly as a Rabelaisian gimmick? Partly because of the bawdy, ribald, liquor-loving character he assumes on the TV screen; but more than that, because of his off-screen publicizing of this aspect of himself. Why does he do this?
Jackie himself claims that he talks about these matters to the press "because I'm honest about them." His director, Frank Bunetta. says: "I think Jackie talks to the press about fatness and drinking because he thinks that's all they'll understand. It's actually hard for him to talk about the things that matter a lot to him." Adds Philip Bruns: "Jackie is essentially a shy man. He's inhibited in talking about the things that are most important to him. I think he hides behind all this talk of fatness and drinking. It's a defense." Whatever the reason, the fact remains that the Gleason image is a distorted over-simplification of a complex human being. There are millions of men who overeat in this world, millions of men who drink too much. But there is only one Jackie Gleason.
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