"Man walking through a cemetery sees a funeral procession. A hearse with two caskets, then a line of men following this guy with his dog. He asks the guy with the dog, 'What happened?' 'My dog bit my wife and my mother-in-law.' Man asks: 'Can I borrow the dog?' Guy says: 'Get in line.'"

Then, of course, a few ethnic cracks:

"A Polish terrorist was sent to blow up a bus. He burned his lips on the exhaust pipe."

"A Polish rapist is in the police line-up. They bring the woman in. He points at her and yells "That's her!'"

The key for Youngman, though, is to incorporate those well-worn gags with some audience participation:

"Any of you out there Italian?" Scattered voices in the crowd yelled in the affirmative. "Okay then--I'll talk slower."

"Two men are talking. One says, 'I just lost my third wife.' 'What happened to the first?' 'She died from eating poisoned mushrooms.' 'And the second?' 'She died from eating poisoned mushrooms.' 'What happened to the third?' 'Cracked skull.' 'How?'" Youngman lifted his hands toward the audience. "'She-wouldn't-eat-the-poisoned-mushrooms,'" chorused 2000 people.

Youngman raised his 19th century Italian violin and his audience cheered, encouragingly. "There are two ways I play the violin. For pleasure and for revenge."

Few of his jokes are originals, he admitted. "I don't create. I gather. I have writers." Joke collecting occupies a great portion of his time. He has estimated that he has spent more than $250,000 on his four-hour repertoire. (His writers have included Morey Amsterdam, Norman Lear and many others.) He knows more than 1500 jokes, but the jokes themselves aren't what makes him successful, he said. "It's the way I do it."

Youngman thinks of his jokes as cartoons. They have the same impact; a simple image and a simple punch. His method is hit-and-run. If a joke flops, it doesn't matter. He's already into the next one.

An avid student of such glib greats as Eddie Cantor, Al Jolson and George Jessel, Youngman incorporated everything he could learn into an act that is strictly his own, and it works so well, he can't give it up.

"I try to be on the road as much as I can. Last night I was at a convention in Chicago. The night before that I was in--." He sorted out the dates and places in his mind. "Let's see, I was in Philadelphia. I'm always working." He acts as his own agent, sometimes booking more than 200 shows a year.

His silly joking and sour technique with the violin have guaranteed Youngman a steady six-figure income. It makes him glad he'd never pursued a career as a concert violinist as his Russian father intended.

"If I played the fiddle any better, I'd be making $125-a-week."

Dale White is another in a seemingly endless supply of freelance writers living in Florida