The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 6: "This isn't funny!"

Episode Date: March 1, 2016

It was a cold, dark night on the field of battle – and one man had the perfect plan to strike back at the enemy.

This is the way I heard it. Corporal Kaminsky was precariously perched atop a makeshift utility pole 40 feet above the frozen ground. In the dim light of a crescent moon, he squinted to complete his task and tried not to lose his battle with gravity. As a member of the 1104th engineer combat group,

Kaminsky was used to such work. What he was not used to was doing it so close to the enemy. You see, this particular pole to which this particular 18-year-old corporal clung was planted in Belgium, specifically in the Ardan forest. And just through the trees, a big chunk of the German army was regrouping after their enormous offensive that would be remembered forever as the Battle of the Bulge. They were so close, Kaminsky could smell them, an odorous stew of Bratworth, gasoline, and boiled cabbage filled his nostrils. You could hear them,

too. They'd been playing propaganda recordings all night long. an unholy mix of the German national anthem, the latest ravings of the mad Fuhrer, and the sweet English voice of Axis Sally, urging our boys to lay down their guns and surrender. As he twisted the last wire around the screw that would carry the current to a slightly different broadcast, he heard a harsh whisper from the century below him.

This isn't funny, Kaminsky. This made the young corporal smile. If there was one thing he'd learn, growing up on the mean streets of Brooklyn, it was this, whenever anyone said, that's not funny. It was almost certain to be hilarious. Kaminsky shimmied down the pole, took one last glance up at the enormous loud speaker he'd just installed, and giggled. The sentry shook his head as Kaminsky scurried back to battalion command. Along the way, he stepped around numerous foxholes, filled with exhausted and freezing GIs.

Their spirits needed a lift, and by golly, he was just the soldier to do the job. Kaminsky searched through a small box of vinyl 78s, looking for just the perfect selection for an occasion such as this. His eyes settled on a classic, and Kaminsky giggled once again. A switch was flipped, a dial was cranked, and a wall of sound erupted from Kaminsky's loudspeaker

that echoed through the frozen forest. In an instant, the racist rantings of Adolf Hitler were drowned out by the unmistakable refrain known to millions. Tut-Toot-Tutsi, goodbye. Tut-Tut-Tutsi, don't cry. For several glorious and confusing minutes, the only thing the soldiers on either side could hear were the dulcet tones of the one and only Al Jolson, who, like Corporal Kaminsky, just happened to be very, very, very good. very Jewish. Kaminsky watched as the war-torn boys of the 78th poked their heads out of their foxholes like curious prairie dogs. The absurdity

of the situation took a few moments to process, but soon the irony washed over the troops and the laughter set in. Nazis, in the middle of a war, driven by an insane hatred of Jews, were now being serenaded by one. Now that was funny. I guess if you can make people laugh on the battlefields of Europe, you can make people laugh pretty much anywhere. And that had always been Corporal Kaminsky's goal. After the war, he found work as a writer and a comedian. And for the next 20 years, made himself a name in Tinsletown. And then he finally got a chance to do what he was born to do.

Direct. His first effort nearly gave the studio a heart attack. It was a screenplay. He wrote himself. But the suits were not amused. That is not funny, they said. But, of course, Kaminsky knew exactly what that meant. He had a winner.

So he stood by his guns and dug in his heels. And before long, America was tapping their toes to catchy numbers like springtime for Hitler and haunting lyrics like, Don't be stupid, be a smarty. Come and join the Nazi party. Maybe it was in bad taste. Maybe it was too soon. But all those put off by Kaminsky's directorial debut were soon afforded the unique opportunity to be offended on the big screen and the small screen, and every screen in between, not to mention Broadway.

Why? Because even though Melvin Kaminsky would change his name, he would never change his tune. In Belgium, he confronted hatred with a song and dance. In Hollywood, he doubled down. and today the producers is considered to be one of the greatest comedies of all time. And the funniest corporal of all time? That's easy. That would be the always improper, always tasteless, never appropriate. Mel Brooks. Anyway, that's the way I heard it.