Who was “The Great Lester,” why was he “great” and why is it that probably 95 percent of the American public never heard of him and his story? David Erskine’s “The Great Lester: Ventriloquism’s Renaissance Man” (with a foreward by highly popular ventriloquist Jeff Dunham) tells the bittersweet tale — a tale at times so dramatic, joyous and ultimately sad that it just begs to be made into a movie.
And no. NO — as Dan Quayle would say “N-o-e, NO!” — this is NOT just a book of interest to ventriloquists. Absolutamente NOT!
“The Great Lester” is the story about an era of show business — or, rather, several eras, using as its centerpiece a first person narrative told by “The Great Lester” himself. Except it’s Erskine writing in a highly compelling, you-can’t-put-it-down style. Erskine bases this fictional narrative account on solid facts culled from extensive interviews and painstaking research of published materials and never-released private letters and communications. If he quotes from a letter received or sent, then it’s the real deal that’s quoted.
Perhaps you’re a fan of one of the mega-famous, mega-talented ventriloquists such as Jeff Dunham, or loved experiencing a top-rate corporate-motivational-speaker ventriloquist, or enjoyed one of the lesser known but still very busy “vents” out there. If so, a large chunk of what you see, how a ventriloquist performs or the kind of character he or she will use partially stems from Polish-born vaudeville star Maryan Czajkowski (1878 – 1956), who adopted the stage name Harry Lester. He became “The Great Lester” and some of his vaudeville promo declared himself “The World’s Best Ventriloquist.”
Vaudeville, radio, movie-star Al Jolson would do the same, calling himself “The World’s Greatest Entertainer,” even though there was no vote or poll declaring him that. It was Jolson himself — an incredible live performer with huge charisma that couldn’t be effectively captured on records, radio or on the screen — who promoted use of that title and by its repetitive use he created an aura. Jolson’s reputation today is negative because he is most (in)famous for appearing in blackface onstage and on the screen.
Harry Lester had it all — and pretty much lost almost all of it, partially due to entertainment trends, unscrupulous fellow entertainers, his prima donna attitude and his inability to let others help him due to his own not tiny ego and self-destructive pride.
He became “big B.O.” (which means “big box office,” not the kind of B.O. associated with our politicians) in the days of vaudeville. Those were the days when there weren’t sound systems, and someone “throwing” their voice truly created the illusion it was coming from the puppet. But, unlike many others, he developed a highly detailed (almost anal-retentive) system of learning ventriloquism. He awed American audiences as he drank water or smoked while his “dummy” talked. He perfected a “distant voice” trick to make it seem like he was talking on a phone to heaven and hell. Many ventriloquists then used big casts of puppet and dummy characters but he settled on one and thus set the template for many “vent” acts to come.
He became famous in vaudeville and a top act. Vaudeville was all the rage in entertainment in the U.S. and Canada in the late 1880s through the early 30s. Audiences could go to shows at theaters in most cities and see acts routed on “circuits.” The most prestigious were called “the big time.” Audiences could see hours and hours of variety acts and oftentimes producers would slate a truly dreadful act at the end, to help clear the audience out. People doing vaudeville could hone and shape their acts and do the same act for years. Silent movies began to hurt vaudeville and radio and sound pictures were its death knell.
Erskine details how Lester seemingly had it made as a huge star in vaudeville — when suddenly his act and style were copied by others. This kind of theft continues to this day at the annual ventriloquist’s convention where some audience members lift jokes or routines they see others do. Big chunks of acts posted on You Tube are today virtual invitations for others to lift an act as mercilessly and smugly as all those who steal jokes and shamelessly claim “there are no new jokes” or smilingly try to spin joke or act theft by lamely saying “Milton Berle did it!”
Lester’s act soon fizzled: he would go seriously over his allotted time — which infuriated the people putting on a show (which always has a time limit). And he did it more than once. Going over your allotted time is a no no in show biz. (I once was hired to replace as emcee a ventriloquist in a variety show because the year before he had made the whole show run 45 minutes over by insisting to do his entire act). Bookers felt he was too much a Pain in the A Factor.
As Lester lost his major bookings, he went through periods where he had few or no performances, worked other jobs, worked smaller ventriloquism gigs — and then turned to teach others his highly detailed system on ventriloquism and puppet manipulation. Once he met a fan who was an aspiring ventriloquist, named Edgar Bergen. He taught the younger Bergen (yes there was a time when Bergen didn’t move his lips) and encouraged and occasionally mentored him. Bergen later reignited interest in the sagging art form by becoming a huge hit on early 1930s radio and in films with his wooden better half Charlie McCarthy. (Young people today can’t figure out why Bergen was a top ventriloquist since in filmed performances he has terrible lip control. They won’t overlook his lack of technique just because older people tell them he was a great ventriloquist.)
Erskine’s fact-based narrator Lester is a supremely proud man, a genius as he expanded and perfected performance technique (even virtually animating the dummy’s body with his own careful body movements), an artist whose work was emulated and ripped off by countless ventriloquists of his day and beyond. But Erskine’s Lester also considers himself the perpetual victim. Erskine shows how Lester would not so subtly suggest living with others while he worked when he was broke or short of funds. Lester insisted his detailed lessons needed to be published and taught exactly his way (so Bergen and others could never help him out even though they wanted to since what they saw looked chaotic and hard to market).
“The Great Lester” story not only takes you through the heyday and death of vaudeville and into the radio years but it gives you fascinating glimpses (from Lester’s point of view) of Edgar Bergen, iconic figure maker (the word for dummy maker) Frank Marshall, and many others. It then takes you through the years of movies and early live television when Lester watched to see a whole host of ventriloquists inspired by Bergen — Jimmy Nelson, Paul Winchell — became Baby Boomer favorites.
And, all the while, The Great Lester lived in great obscurity.
One of these vents who was inspired by Bergen who had been inspired by Lester is Jimmy Nelson (just watch him in action HERE), who has inspired many ventriloquists you see on TV, in comedy clubs, and in concerts today (including lesser ones such as this one) to go into it full-time. Nelson today lives in Florida.
In the end there was no glorious second act, no Hollywood-esq comeback for The Great Lester in terms of national fame or recognition beyond the narrow field of ventriloquism. And while he’d believe it was due to bad luck, or ungrateful people he taught or helped become vents, a good part of his sad ending was that he was utterly convinced of his own professional greatness and infallibility.
Today, there are many ventriloquists and magicians who declare themselves “The World’s Best” or “The Greatest” or among “The Worlds Top” 10 or 20 or whatever ventriloquists. Fair enough; all power to them. But exactly when did the world hold this vote? Who and how many people created those lists? The reality? ? It’s all marketing, like Lester’s and Jolson’s.
Take it from me Joe Gandelman: The Universe’s Greatest Entertainer, The World’s Greatest Pizza Lover, The Globe’s Best Blogger, The Sexiest Five Foot One Connecticut Jew Alive, This Century’s Best Family Show Entertainer, The World’s Greatest Bellybutton Lint Producer, North America’s Greatest Cat Lover, California’s Greatest Cook (except for my nephew Alex who’s an actual pro), The Idol of Kids Show Audiences Everywhere, The Most Talented Survivor of The Heartbreak of Psoriasis, The Most Popular Family Attraction at Fairs, The Wittiest Writer of the Last Two Centuries, North America’s Most Idolized School Show Performer, The American More Popular in Canada Than Tim Horton’s Coffee, The World’s Most Modest Person Even If I Call Myself Great and If You Don’t Like It Then Tough Take a Hike Because This Is My Marketing So There.
But The Great Lester WAS great.
TRULY “great.”
He was great — because he pioneered and fine tuned much of what you see in ventriloquism today and showed how far someone could go in taking a big wooden doll on his lap, filling it with pizazz and seeming physical life, or using his voice to make it seem like it came from a phone.
In his day, he was truly that overused word: AWESOME.
Erskine’s The Great Lester reads like a well-crafted novel about a onetime star whose decline was due to his own flaws of ego and pride. It’s about a long-gone era of show biz before You Tubes when live entertainment was king, and then demoted to prince due to the emergence of radio and sound movies. It’s a book for anyone interested in fiction or nonfiction about show biz.
You do NOT have to be a ventriloquist to love David Erskine’s The Great Lester. Want to put yourself into a time machine and re-live a different show biz era? Read — and savor — David Erskine’s The Great Lester.
You can read it without moving your lips.
Joe Gandelman is a former fulltime journalist who freelanced in India, Spain, Bangladesh and Cypress writing for publications such as the Christian Science Monitor and Newsweek. He also did radio reports from Madrid for NPR’s All Things Considered. He has worked on two U.S. newspapers and quit the news biz in 1990 to go into entertainment. He also has written for The Week and several online publications, did a column for Cagle Cartoons Syndicate and has appeared on CNN.