Stu Bykofsky: Ed McMahon: Always real, always a real Philadelphian
THE MAN WITH the Golden Lungs, Ed McMahon, never "went Hollywood."
Born in Detroit, reared all over the East Coast, when he hit Philadelphia he sank roots, adopted our down-to-earth addytudes and, despite his fame, never got too high on himself.
His career ran as long as his beloved Jersey Shore - he summered in Avalon for many years - and as high as the Comcast Tower, built long after he left.
McMahon thought of Philadelphia as home.
How do I know?
"Since I have no real hometown," he wrote to me in 1989, "I always considered Philadelphia 'home,' since my career in television started there in 1949."
He added, "I've always loved Philadelphia and will continue to do so." Like many born-right-here homeboys - such as Joey Bishop, Bill Cosby, David Brenner and Will Smith - he always spoke of Philadelphia with affection.
In his 1989 book, "Super Selling," the first person acknowledged was Philly ad-genius Barney Kramer, who coached McMahon and hired him to do commercials for Colonial Penn life insurance. He got $500,000 for two one-minute spots.
In that same year, when the Philadelphia Music Foundation elected McMahon to its Hall of Fame, complete with a plaque on Broad Street, he declined any money for airfare, accommodations and expenses, paying for himself and the family members he brought along. He obviously felt that the love he had for his adopted city was reciprocated.
A mild controversy surrounded PMF's action: Some thought that McMahon wasn't a "performer." (The award actually recognized how he found and encouraged performers with his syndicated "Star Search" show.)
Those who thought he wasn't a performer were wrong.
He was the "Sealtest Big Top" clown on TV, and had done the weather on Channel 10, working with legendary anchor John Facenda and sportscaster Jack Whitaker. Anyone who thinks McMahon wasn't "performing" as Johnny Carson's sidekick doesn't understand show business. McMahon did, and loved his "second banana" role.
He also loved hanging with Johnny when they were a couple of wild and crazy, boozing and babe-chasing middle-age guys. (Another adopted Philadelphian, Dick Clark, gets credit for introducing Ed to Johnny.)
For a guy with a voice that could deafen you - thanks to his training as a Boardwalk pitchman - McMahon was soft-spoken in person, when I interviewed him.
He regretted nothing about his career: Hocking schlock on the Boardwalk taught him to sell, dancing around as a clown taught him to perform, being the Man Who Launched 1,000 Pitches made him rich. He took great, quiet pride in his service as a Marine pilot, rising to the rank of colonel in the Marine Reserves.
Fate dealt him a bad hand in his sunset years, making his personal fortune vanish. Well-liked, he got some help from some friends, got some work and began to recover.
Throughout his adversity, he did interviews, he told his story, but largely didn't whine.
McMahon long lived elsewhere, but he was never a phony - and he was always a Philadelphian.
E-mail stubyko@phillynews.com or call 215-854-5977. For recent columns:
