ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Thursday, February 6, 1997 TAG: 9702060014
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 2 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: TOM SHALES
DATELINE: WASHINGTON
SOURCE: TOM SHALES
Public sightings of Jack Paar have been relatively rare ever since. But on Thursday, the Museum of Television & Radio in New York is luring him out of his house in Connecticut for ``A Gala Evening in Honor of Jack Paar'' at the Waldorf-Astoria. Among those participating will be Conan O'Brien, Barbara Walters and Hugh Downs, who was Paar's sidekick back in the great long-ago.
In addition, Paar is now working on a two-hour retrospective of his life and times that PBS will air in early May.
Paar didn't do a ``talk show''; he did a Paar show, unlike anybody else's. His guest list on ``Tonight'' wasn't just a grab bag of celebrities in town to plug movies. He developed a repertory company of wits and wackies who were booked because they were fun to be around.
Among the semiregulars were the great British raconteur Robert Morley, misanthropic journalist Alexander King, Cliff Arquette as Charlie Weaver reading hokey letters from his fictitious hometown of Mount Idy (a forerunner of Mayberry and ``The Andy Griffith Show''), famous party-thrower Elsa Maxwell and French chanteuse Genevieve, who made sure never to lose her thick accent.
On the late-night show and on the prime-time show, Paar introduced such huge comedic talents as Jonathan Winters, Bill Cosby and Jackie Mason. Paar was a great entertainer and a great appreciator of people who were genuinely entertaining.
He also got famous figures to reveal personal, human sides of themselves the public had never seen. Paar got Richard Nixon not only to relax and joke around, but to play the piano. John F. Kennedy and Robert F. Kennedy were both guests. Paar went to Cuba to interview Fidel Castro and he went to Germany to sit in front of the Berlin Wall and show it in all its cold ugliness.
When amateur broadcast historians talk about Jack Paar now, they fall back on old stereotypes: He had a roaring ego and he wept at the drop of a hat. He did have a healthy ego, but all stars do. To compensate Paar told mercilessly self-deprecating anecdotes about things that happened to him in real life.
He joked, too, about his easy tendency toward tears. John Reddy, who collaborated with Paar on his first book, ``I Kid You Not,'' in 1959, wrote facetiously in his introduction, ``At sad movies he sobs so loudly that people for three rows around get up and move.''
But on the air, few of the sentimental moments were silly or capricious. One in particular comes to mind: Aug. 23, 1960, the day Oscar Hammerstein II died. From ``Show Boat'' to ``The Sound of Music,'' Hammerstein was one of the greatest lyricists who ever lived. To pay tribute, Paar invited Patricia Neway, then appearing in ``Music'' on Broadway, to come and sing ``Climb Every Mountain.''
Paar wasn't the only one with tears in his eyes that night.
But Paar's old-softy side was offset by a fearless feistiness. When he was in the Army in World War II, he angered officers with his jibes and jokes. When he was at NBC, he gave executives fits with his irreverent candor on the air. He took on powerful columnists and newspaper chains and never blinked. NBC execs quivered and quaked.
The Jack Paar Program has continued all these years, but for much smaller audiences in luncheons and dinner parties at Paar's home. His best audience continues to be his beautiful wife Miriam and his daughter Randy, now a Manhattan lawyer. What has always made Paar amusing remains true: He is himself enormously amused by the passing parade of life.
Paar did television that was bold, provocative, enthralling and illuminating. Nobody has ever topped him. It's a very safe bet that nobody ever will. Nor, alas, even try.
LENGTH: Medium: 73 linesby CNB