DJ Clay Cole on JL

"Before Jerry arrived, his PR advance team warned us that Mr. Lewis was on a tight schedule, with a full day of interviews, and instructed us to have the videotape machines cued up and ready for his arrival. They would allow us just ten minutes with the star. Jerry arrived, handed off his trench coat, sat down and talked for and hour and a half. His PR men were pacing behind the camera, tapping their wrist watches, shaking their heads in disbelief. Jerry was unmovable. Although I greeted Jerry with a cheerful facade, Jerry somehow sensed my melancholy. ….Jerry was a well-loved fan favorite, but (he believed) he was never fully appreciated by the Hollywood establishment. …Jerry claimed to be a Hollywood outsider.
‘All those wonderful Hollywood parties you hear about…’ Jerry said. ‘I’m not on the guest list. I’m never invited. But I can’t let that bother me. I have to sort out what is important in my life. I have to just believe in myself and do what I think is best for my life. You must do the same.’
The tape was rolling, the conversation was getting very personal and I was aware, out of the corner of my eyes, that the PR natives were getting restless. So, I wrapped up the interview, thanked Jerry, and stopped tape.
But, Jerry didn’t budge. He sat determined not to leave until I got the message, which was, quite simply: ‘This above all, to thine own self be true.’
In spite of my TV-Q popular appeal score and my soaring Nielson ratings, Jerry was trying to make me aware of one simple truth. I was the host of a rock ‘n’ roll show, not the stuff that engenders respect. After about ten minutes, when his entourage finally gave up, I suggested that we might as well continue to roll tape. Jerry agreed and we taped another half hour. To Jerry, reaching out to a fellow performer was simply more important than his pending schedule.
Most of my conversation with Lewis never aired. It was much too personal… (But) I will never forget Jerry’s kindness, nor the way our eyes locked when he said: ‘If you’re deprived of love when you’re young, you can never have it given back to you. It was a life-changing moment, I must tell you.

He had been on the show a couple of times, but in 1967 when he agreed to be on, we were told that we would only have 10 minutes before he had to leave for another gig. They were adamant about this. He came in, and an hour and a half later he was still there getting into my guts and soul about my childhood and life. It turns out that he was talking about himself. He had a terrible relationship with his father and no approval from his family. Nobody in Hollywood respected him, even though he had written, produced and directed over 20 hit movies. He told me that he was never invited to any of the “in” parties. In the midst of relating all of this to me, he said, ‘Don’t feel unloved because you are a rock and roll disc jockey. I’m a slapstick comedian.’ It took my breath away. And when he left the studio after the hour and half, the whole crew sat there stunned at what had just taken place. It was the greatest moments, though most of the time was so personal that we couldn’t put
it on the air. We used all we could, of course. From then on Jerry and I became friends. I was one of the first who replaced him on the March of Dimes Telethon. I remember it was 1969 because during our interview we talked about Woodstock and whether I had been there. He kept saying, 'Stick around…stick around.’ About 2 A.M., Bob Schanks, the producer of the telethon, called me over and told me, 'Jerry’s going to take a nap and wants you to take over the telethon.’ So for an hour and a half I tried to do what he does so well for so many hours. I was told later that I was the only one who had replaced him up to that point.
People say different things about it—he’s too brash, he’s using this or that cause—but all I can say is what I’ve seen with my own eyes. He’s the most gentle and passionate man I’ve ever met.
— Clay Cole, “Sh-Boom!: The Explosion of Rock ‘n’ Roll (1953-1968)