Celebrity R.I.P.

 

Is my blog turning into an obituary column for celebrities? I hope not, but it’s true that many of my posts during the past year have focused on the deaths (and lives) of famous people. I was surprised to see the following sweet comment on my previous post about Dick Martin:

Geez Danny, you have had a tough week this week...I would imagine you might want to do a post on the death of Sydney Pollack.

I have had a tough week, but it certainly had nothing to do with those deaths. (Do I seem that celebrity obsessed? Don't answer that!) Not that I wan’t sad when I heard that Sydney Pollack had died, but it’s not like these people are family members or anything! I remember when Elvis Presley died in 1977, my sister was living with a former classmate of ours named Fran Stein who was an absolute fanatic about all things Elvis. After it was announced that Elvis had died, people started calling Fran to ask how she was doing, using the hushed and somber tones reserved for those who have just lost a close loved one. Oy.

As much as I admired Sydney Pollack, I tend to acknowledge the deaths of people, often far less famous than Pollack, about whom I have personal anecdotes or who remind me of different times in my life. That’s how I felt about the deaths of Suzanne Pleshette, Don Knotts, Maureen Stapleton, Yvonne de Carlo, Deborah Kerr, Ingmar Bergman and Tom Snyder, Lois Nettleton and Bill Idelson, and certainly people that I actually knew or who had a close relationship with Kendall such as her pals Brett Somers and Charles Nelson Reilly.

Considering how much Sydney Pollack is respected as one of this country’s finest directors, I was surprised to realize after reading his obituaries how few films he actually made. My favorite Pollack film is one of his first—“They Shoot Horses, Don’t They,” made in 1969 about the grueling and inhumane dance marathons that swept the country during the Depression. There are so many poignant performances in this film and it so beautifully evoked that desperate, hardscrabble era. Pollack was a master at wringing the best work out of people, in this case Red Buttons, Bruce Dern, Bonnie Bedelia, Michael Sarrazin, Susannah York, and in what I would call the finest performance of her career, Jane Fonda. 

Being the chick flick lover that I am, I am also a huge fan of 1973’s “The Way We Were,” starring Babs and one of Pollack’s frequent leading men, Robert Redford. I also loved “Out of Africa” starring Redford and the always brilliant Meryl Streep (I often find myself spontaneously uttering Karen Blixen’s line, “I had a farm in Africa at the foot of Ngong Hills…”) and of course, I so enjoyed the crowd-pleasing “Tootsie” which also featured Pollack expertly playing the role of Dustin Hoffman’s agent. Not all of Pollack's films were winners, but I’ll forgive him the 1995 remake of “Sabrina.”

By all accounts, Sydney Pollack was not only a great director, actor, and producer, but a true mensch. Everyone who worked with him seemed to love him. Who can ask for more out of life than that?

Another celebrity died this week whose work has been in my head far longer and far more intensely than Pollack’s ever was. Does this sounds familiar:

Or how about this?

Earle Hagen composed many of the best themes in the history of television, tunes that are lodged in the cerebral cortexes of nearly every Baby Boomer who walks the earth. In addition to the theme songs for “The Andy Griffith Show” (that’s Hagen himself whistling in that number) and “The Dick Van Dyke Show,” Earle Hagen scored many of my favorite childhood shows, from “Make Room for Daddy” to our friend Sam Bobrick’s show “Gomer Pyle, USMC” to the very hip “The Mod Squad” (with the following slogan: “one black…one white…one blonde!”) to “That Girl.”

His most acclaimed work was probably on the ground-breaking TV show “I Spy.” This was one of the first shows to create original soundtracks for every episode, and because each episode was filmed in a different exotic location, the show became a tour-de-force for Hagen’s ability to adapt the music of different cultures and bring it to the American public week by week. Would you believe me if I say that one of the reasons I wanted to learn to read so badly was so I could read the credits of my favorite TV shows? It’s true, and I actually remember gazing at our gigantic black-and-white RCA set in the mid-60s and seeing Earle Hagen’s name appear on so many of the shows that I loved.

Completing the sad triad of celebrity deaths this week is the brilliant Harvey Korman who made me laugh out loud more than most of the other way more famous comedians on television. I first came to love Korman when he was a regular on “The Danny Kaye Show” with Joyce Van Patten, and then, of course, during his long stint on “The Carol Burnett Show.” If you’ve never seen that show’s most famous film parody, “Went With the Wind,” with Korman as leading man Ratt Bulter, it’s definitely worth a look:

Harvey Korman did a killer Clark Gable, but he was even funnier in the parodies he did with Burnett of theatre couple Lunt & Fontanne or when he was decked out in full drag as an oversized Jewish mama or when he played Eunice’s hapless husband in the family sketches. Korman was also brilliant in “Blazing Saddles” and other Mel Brooks’ films. I wrote Korman a letter when I was a kid and received one in return that I will have to hunt down.

Three very talented people gone this week, all from the Midwest (Korman and Hagen were born in Chicago, Pollack in Indiana) and two (Pollack and Korman) whose families were from similar Eastern European Jewish shtetls. Rest in peace, you guys.

Comments

[churlita]

Another amazing post. I loved Harvey Korman on the Carol Burnett show. I would love to read the letter he sent you.

[Melinda]

I wrote Korman a letter when I was a kid and received one in return that I will have to hunt down.

LOL! How did I know you'd write that?

Looking forward to it...in fact, came right over here today because I knew you'd write something about Harvey Korman.

[Shannon V]

When I heard the news this morning that Harvey Korman had died, my first thought was that I couldn't wait to read your blog to see what you had written. Thanks again for the continued thoughtful insight.

[cruisin-mom]

Imagine my surprise seeing my quote at the top of your post! It's not that you're celebrity obsessed Danny...it's that you have the most touching way of writing about the people who have brought joy, laughter, and music to our lives. And judging by the couple of comments before mine...I'm not the only one who feels that way! Thanks for another great post.

[Raizy]

Harvey Korman was one of a kind.
Thank you for posting the video of "Went With the Wind". I hadn't seen it in years, but I clicked on your link and watched it now. Best laugh I've had in days!

[Pam G]

Like someone else said, when I heard Harvey Korman had died my first thought was of your blog and what you would say about his life and career. Not because Jew Eat Yet is *the place* for celebrity obits but mostly because you tend to chronicle those icons that had an impact on people of "our age" in a manner so meaningful to all of us. And we've lost so many of our "icons" this past year, Dick Martin, Korman, and Suzanne Pleshette, plus "our friends" Brett and Charles. I've certainly been feeling my age lately and I'm sure I'm not alone.

Could relate to your comment about those who offered their sympathy to your sister's friend who loved Elvis. People did the same thing with my sister-in-law when The Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia died. My sis-in-law was pretty devastated, too. I could never understand this sort of "intense" thing at all but it does happen.

Last year when Brett Somers died several people, including one of my co-workers, offered their sympathies to me in a similar manner. I found it somewhat peculiar but they were sincere and at least they were being sympathetic about someone I actually knew, although she wasn't family. Many of them had read things I'd written and remembered that we were acquainted, I suppose.

More odd was a woman I ran into yesterday at a Pittsburgh movie theater who, when I said hello, blurted out, "Oh, Harvey Korman died!" I was a bit taken aback as she didn't even say "Hi, how are you?" first but, I guess she, too, was remembering some of my past writings about 70s pop culture and the passing of another great comedian from our common past was thus the first thing that entered her mind (?!)

I admired Sydney Pollack and enjoyed him as an actor, too, seeing him most recently as the amoral law firm partner in last year's Michael Clayton. I had never heard of Earle Hagen until I read his obituary but now I know that my life was enriched by his work.

Just last week, very near the first anniversary of Charles Nelson Reilly's death, the only remaining movie theater in downtown Pittsburgh showed the film of his one-man show Life of Reilly. How great it was to join the crowd in laughing and applauding Charles again. What a wonderful legacy all of these people have left for each of us to continue to enjoy.