Sticking His Chin Out

Was there life before “The Tonight Show With Jay Leno”?

The late-night host is willing to admit he had one, and it wasn’t always a barrel of laughs. But his memories of the bad ol’ days offer hope to any rookie comic worried about a future.

His new book, “Leading With My Chin” (Harper Collins, and written with Bill Zehme), roams from Leno’s childhood through his years as a stand-up comic.

On an early attempt at making an entrance:

“One night in New Rochelle, my parents were having what I thought was a huge party, but I guess it was just two other couples over playing bridge. I had gone up to bed, but I’d crept back to the top of the stairs to eavesdrop on the party below. They were talking and laughing and having a good time, and I wanted so badly to be down there where the action was.

“So I hatched a plan: I would make a big show biz entrance! I would slide down the banister in my pajamas, hit the bottom, land on my feet, and go, ‘Ta daaaa!’ Right in the middle of the bridge game! I’d be the life of the party! Cause a sensation! Be like Liza Minnelli--who, of course, would have been about 8 at the time, but still no doubt a load of excitement.

“So I balanced myself on the top of the banister and slid approximately 1 inch. And that was it. Suddenly, I fell like a nuclear missile--straight through a table with a lamp on it. There was a huge crash as the table collapsed and the lamp shattered. Everybody jumped up from the card game, scared out of their minds. But what an entrance! My parents rushed me to the hospital, where my spleen had to be removed. Which was so cool to me at the time--well worth giving up an insignificant body part. I’ve never really missed my spleen, anyway.”

On high hopes for his first big break:

“I took a part-time job washing dishes at the Boston Playboy Club. I figured this would be my sure-fire entree into the exciting world of professional show business. The logic was: Maybe if I started out as a dishwasher, I could somehow graduate to become the headline comedian in the Playmate Room! Obviously, I was an idiot.”

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On bombing one night and having a good excuse for it:

“I tried the McDonald’s material. Nothing. The growing-up-in-New-England stuff. Nothing. Stories about my parents. (Everybody has parents.) Just nothing. I finished and left the stage to a quiet smattering of applause.

“The room director was waiting for me, arms folded, grim look on his face.

“ ‘Hey, come here!’ he said, flashing my report card. ‘Man, you get an F!’

“He scrawls on the card, ‘F! Comic stunk!’ Then he handed it to me and said, ‘Here! Sign that!’

“I said, ‘Come on, this is an impossible crowd!’

“Then the maitre d’ ran over and said, ‘Hey, don’t blame the kid! They’re all foreigners. They’re all from Portugal!’

“I said, ‘Portugal? They don’t speak English?’

“The maitre d’ said, ‘No, the whole room was all foreigners!’ ”