CULVER CITY, Calif. — Milton Berle, America's "Uncle Miltie," the one-liner comedy king of vaudeville to TV, was laid to rest Monday accompanied by his favorite sound — peals of laughter.
Berle, who died Wednesday at 93, was lauded for his brash wit, zany shticks, machine-gun delivery, kindness to friends and, above all, his ability to make people laugh.
Nearly 300 people — including his good friends "Red" Buttons, Jan Murray, Don Rickles and Buddy Hackett — gathered to roast the entertainer, who earned the nickname of "Mr. Television," during a funeral at Hillside Memorial Park and Mortuary in Culver City next to Los Angeles.
Forget John Wayne, said producer/writer Larry Gelbart. "To me, Milton Berle, with his Eastern cheekiness, his unflappability, represent Mom and apple pie as much as anybody.
"His goal was to grab a crowd by its collective throat and to vacuum laughter right out of them."
Berle's life was celebrated within a small chapel down the hill from the grave of singer-actor Al Jolson and not far from comedian Jack Benny and "Three Stooges" comic Moe Howard.
A photo of a young Berle grinned from the right of the stage, one of the older comedian, with his signature cigar, was on the left.
The photos flanked Berle's coffin, topped with white roses and his crumpled fedora and trench coat.
Those who loved the stand-up comic, radio and nightclub celebrity and first star of television—uninhibited by high heels, evening gowns, blacked-out teeth and other gags—knew he was at heaven's gate.
"'Hey, Pete, close the gate, I'm getting a draft,"' said comedian Murray, picturing his friend of 66 years confronting the ultimate bouncer.
Berle, always the director. Always the producer. Always the stage manager, even to bossing the light man, said comedian Norm Crosby.
"I can see him now, at the gates of heaven, there's Milton in his coat and hat whispering, 'Hey, Peter, don't stand there like a schmuck ... Go like (italics) this (end italics)!"'
Berle, born Mendel Berlinger in Harlem on July 12, 1908, was among the first TV personalities to be inducted in the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences Hall of Fame.
Berle stopped America in its tracks in 1948 with his "Texaco Star Theater," a broadcast that temporarily shuttered movie theaters and was the only show to run the night Harry Truman upset Thomas Dewey for president.
Each Tuesday night, Uncle Miltie ruled. Before long, millions of couch potatoes—and performers—were attracted to the medium of television.
"He handed me my career on a silver platter," said Buttons, whose breakaway suit broke away during one live Berle performance—along with his underwear.
Among the funeral guests Monday was a pantheon of entertainers, including Sid Caesar, Rose Marie, Martin Landau, Larry Miller, Robert Forrester and Berle's son-in-law, actor Richard Moll. Many wore yarmulkes.
Hackett, who didn't speak on behalf of his Friars Club chum, wore a black pillbox laced in gold.
"I'm very sad, of course, I've been crying," he said shortly after Berle's death. "Milton was the kind of guy you could get anything from ... except an even share on the stage."
Gelbart, like others, was unperturbed by Berle's knack for ripping off others' material.
"He had a propensity—how do I put it delicately—for giving other people's jokes a new home," he said. "Jokes, for him, were like oxygen."
Don Rickles drew the most laughs with his acerbic, Berle-esque shots.
"Milton, Lorna," he said, addressing the late Berle and his wife. "I want to be paid for this: I had two affairs this morning and rushed over here to borrow (the) raincoat."