see that he had a hard time taking compliments. But what parties he and Miriam threw! Always full of great names and old friends, so many of them now gone, like comic pianist Victor Borge, and the legendary showbiz caricaturist Al Hirschfeld. Guests were usually split between two separate tables, with Jack presiding at the head of his table as only he could. Famously, he loved to lean in and say to anyone near him: “Tell me something that would interest me.” What a challenge! Usually it produced plenty of laughs. But if he’d hear too many laughs coming from the other table, he’d be up like a shot and over to find out who was getting the laughs and why. “What? What?” he’d ask breathlessly. But that was Jack: He hated to miss out on anything.
For the most part, though, he had been living a rather quiet life up there in Connecticut. He dabbled a lot in painting and was quite good at it. Also, every day he would drive into Greenwich to pick out a movie at the video store, and then he and Miriam would watch it during their lunch. We got to know them better and better after Joy and I bought a weekend home in Greenwich as well, not too far from their place. And yes, throughout those years, I could never resist reminding Jack of what he meant to me. But just like that first time I cornered him, it seemed that Jack didn’t want to hear it, that it sort of embarrassed him. And yet he was always so complimentary and encouraging about our show. He couldn’t get over the fact that we cohosts—whether with Kathie Lee or later with Kelly—never even spoke to each other before the broadcasts, that there was no rehearsing at all, no quick meetings about topics to discuss, that we’d just go out and make it happen live on camera. Of all the people in the world, with maybe the greatest spontaneous mind in television history, he couldn’t understand how we did it! Coming from him, as you could imagine, I would never know a greater compliment. Ever.
Sometime along the way, during a New Year’s Day party at our home, I introduced him to my pal the actor-turned-commentator-host Chuck Grodin, and the two became fast friends. We all would go to the best restaurants in Connecticut and always it was great fun. Jack had never stopped being a superb conversationalist. And there had grown such a great bond between us. Sometimes I couldn’t believe this was the guy I’d had so much trouble meeting.
But later, strange and difficult things began to happen to Jack. One day Miriam went into the garage and encountered a snake. She screamed and yelled, “Snake!” and Jack grabbed his gun. Well, it wasn’t a real gun, but it was one of those things that makes a real loud bang to scare off deer. Jack was hoping the snake would react to it like a deer. Well, the snake beat it out of that garage, but the bang cost Jack his hearing in his left ear. Then things turned more serious. Jack had a stroke. It left him unable to speak. It was a tough time, but he could still see you, could still hear you in his good ear, and could still smile at a good joke. So we all tried to amuse Jack and get him through this terrible ordeal. The last time I saw Jack was Christmas Eve 2003. Our Christmas show had been pretaped for that day, so I was already in Greenwich that morning. Joy and I were spending our family holiday in Connecticut, and I’d decided to drive over and wish him an early Merry Christmas. I got there around eleven o’clock, and it was cold and dreary and pouring rain. His nurse answered the doorbell. She said, “Regis, I didn’t know you were coming.” I told her that I’d arranged it with Mrs. Paar. She said, “Come on in! Jack and I were looking at the show this morning and he was laughing.” I said, “Did you really hear him laugh?” She said, “Oh yes, he laughed!”
She led me to the living room, where he seemed to be in good spirits. He still couldn’t talk, but he was a great listener. He loved hearing all the stories,
For the most part, though, he had been living a rather quiet life up there in Connecticut. He dabbled a lot in painting and was quite good at it. Also, every day he would drive into Greenwich to pick out a movie at the video store, and then he and Miriam would watch it during their lunch. We got to know them better and better after Joy and I bought a weekend home in Greenwich as well, not too far from their place. And yes, throughout those years, I could never resist reminding Jack of what he meant to me. But just like that first time I cornered him, it seemed that Jack didn’t want to hear it, that it sort of embarrassed him. And yet he was always so complimentary and encouraging about our show. He couldn’t get over the fact that we cohosts—whether with Kathie Lee or later with Kelly—never even spoke to each other before the broadcasts, that there was no rehearsing at all, no quick meetings about topics to discuss, that we’d just go out and make it happen live on camera. Of all the people in the world, with maybe the greatest spontaneous mind in television history, he couldn’t understand how we did it! Coming from him, as you could imagine, I would never know a greater compliment. Ever.
Sometime along the way, during a New Year’s Day party at our home, I introduced him to my pal the actor-turned-commentator-host Chuck Grodin, and the two became fast friends. We all would go to the best restaurants in Connecticut and always it was great fun. Jack had never stopped being a superb conversationalist. And there had grown such a great bond between us. Sometimes I couldn’t believe this was the guy I’d had so much trouble meeting.
But later, strange and difficult things began to happen to Jack. One day Miriam went into the garage and encountered a snake. She screamed and yelled, “Snake!” and Jack grabbed his gun. Well, it wasn’t a real gun, but it was one of those things that makes a real loud bang to scare off deer. Jack was hoping the snake would react to it like a deer. Well, the snake beat it out of that garage, but the bang cost Jack his hearing in his left ear. Then things turned more serious. Jack had a stroke. It left him unable to speak. It was a tough time, but he could still see you, could still hear you in his good ear, and could still smile at a good joke. So we all tried to amuse Jack and get him through this terrible ordeal. The last time I saw Jack was Christmas Eve 2003. Our Christmas show had been pretaped for that day, so I was already in Greenwich that morning. Joy and I were spending our family holiday in Connecticut, and I’d decided to drive over and wish him an early Merry Christmas. I got there around eleven o’clock, and it was cold and dreary and pouring rain. His nurse answered the doorbell. She said, “Regis, I didn’t know you were coming.” I told her that I’d arranged it with Mrs. Paar. She said, “Come on in! Jack and I were looking at the show this morning and he was laughing.” I said, “Did you really hear him laugh?” She said, “Oh yes, he laughed!”
She led me to the living room, where he seemed to be in good spirits. He still couldn’t talk, but he was a great listener. He loved hearing all the stories,
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