fbpx

The Most Jewish Comedian Ever

I am blessed to have spent time with Jackie Mason. He made me laugh as much and, at times, more than any other comedian I ever saw.
[additional-authors]
July 28, 2021
Jackie, Nancy and yours truly (Photo courtesy of Mark Schiff)

“It’s no longer a question of staying healthy. It’s a question finding a sickness you like.”
—Jackie Mason

“Ladies and Gentlemen, you can’t please everyone. Take my girlfriend.  I think she’s the most remarkable woman in the world … That’s me … But to my wife…” —Jackie Mason

I am blessed to have spent time with Jackie Mason. He made me laugh as much and, at times, more than any other comedian I ever saw.

Mason was so Jewish that other Jews told him not to be so Jewish. That would be like telling an alligator not to be so alligatorish. And like the alligator, Jackie had tough skin. You need to be tough to be a standup comedian.

It’s true that Mason was a comedian, but he also never stopped being a rabbi. He was … unabashedly unafraid to be Jewish in the face of the whole world.

Mason was fearless. He said what he believed and did not shy away from other people’s opinions. Everything about him was funny. The way he walked, talked, and dressed. The sounds he made to accentuate a comedy idea were priceless. This man, in a crinkled suit with dyed hair, would have people doubled over in the aisles. If you ever had the honor of seeing him at a Broadway theatre, you noticed that not just the Jews were laughing; everyone was convulsing with laughter.

One of his greatest assets as a performer was that he made you feel like he was personally speaking to you. “Hey mister, I’m talking to you.”  What Mason could do to an audience with just words and his Jewish accent was genius.

I met Mason almost 25 years ago. I once told him I had some material for him, so we met at a diner on Wilshire Blvd. I did the material for him in the best Jackie Mason impression I could muster. He did not like any of it but that was OK because I had an hour alone with Mason.

Way back before becoming a comedian, Mason was a rabbi, and word has it, he used to cause his congregation to double over. When we met, Mason knew that I was becoming more religious. He used to say to me, “Mark, I used to be a rabbi and became a comedian. You are a comedian, and you want to be a rabbi.” He said that to me more than a few times. I came to expect it and always loved it.

Another time, after seeing Mason’s show with my wife, we took him out for dinner. The only place open was a diner called “Ships” on La Cienega Blvd in Los Angeles. “Ships” was famous for having toasters on every table. So, if you ordered toast, they would bring you the bread and you would toast it yourself. Jackie could not get over the fact that, in a restaurant, he had to do his own cooking. So, what he did was he started going from table to table asking people what they thought of the fact that they had come to a restaurant and had to make their own toast.  He got people laughing at every table he visited. “Hey mister, how come you have to make your own toast? When people come to your house for dinner, do you make them cook at your house?”

During that meal, we reminded Mason that Rosh Hashanah was coming up and that if he was in Los Angeles, he could come to us for dinner. He quickly turned us down and explained that he never goes to people’s homes to eat because he can’t leave whenever he wants to. He feels trapped at people’s houses. In a restaurant, he said he can come and go as he pleases.

A few years later, my wife and I, and another couple with a female friend of theirs, all went to see Mason in Westwood. After the show, we went backstage to say hello. After telling me I am becoming a rabbi, Mason zeroed in on the attractive single woman who was with us. He got her phone number and called her a few times. He was about 70 plus years old at the time. When he found out she was in her 50s, he said she was too old for him and never called her again. She laughs about it to this day.

A few weeks before Mason died, my wife and I and some friends took a ten-day road trip from Niagara Falls to Massachusetts and on to Newport, Rhode Island. Through the very goyish backroads of these states, we listened to Mason’s Broadway Show, “The World According to Me.”  As we passed cows, ducks and American flags, we were all laughing our heads off. We weren’t laughing because we are Jewish or because Mason was Jewish. We were laughing because he was so spot on and so flipping funny.

I wish Mason had gotten a chance to see me work. I would have loved to hear what he thought and maybe even gotten a few pointers. But I was never so lucky.

Mason’s death hits me on many levels. The fact that he is no longer here to entertain us and speak for us. The fact that we will not have more of his fabulous comedy pouring out of him.

It’s true that Mason was a comedian, but he also never stopped being a rabbi. He was an important person who was so unabashedly unafraid to be Jewish in the face of the whole world. Every word out of his mouth screamed, “I’m a Jew.” We lost a real spokesman. A goodwill ambassador for the Jewish world.

If there is a heaven, Mason is playing his biggest and best crowds ever. “Hey mister, with the beard, you look just like Moses. Oh, you are Moses. Hey Moses, forty years in the desert is a long time for Jewish women. You should have taken them to Miami to a nice, air-conditioned hotel and room service. Jewish wives don’t like hot sand, they like coffee and cake. What a shemdrik.”


Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer.

Did you enjoy this article?
You'll love our roundtable.

Editor's Picks

Latest Articles

More news and opinions than at a
Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.