It may surprise some of my friends and loyal readers to learn that one of my favorite movies is… Smokey and the Bandit.
Yes, I am talking about that 1977 ode to redneck tomfoolery and car-crashes, and yes, I know the movie is horrible in about nine hundred different ways — not least of which is that it can be seen as the direct progenitor of the upcoming Dukes of Hazzard feature — but, general stupidity and misbegotten descendents aside, SATB is one of the few movies guaranteed to bring me up when I’ve had a really rotten day. Burt Reynolds was a charming lead before he became overly fond of his own face, Sally Field was (and still is) a genuine cutie, the jokes are clever enough in an amiable, poke-you-in-the-ribs sort of way, and Jackie Gleason… well, what can I say about Jackie Gleason? The man was a friggin’ genius. Nobody has ever done impotent, spluttering exasperation better than him, and the interplay between Gleason’s Buford T. Justice and his idiotic son Junior never fails to crack me up.
There’s another funny father-and-son team in the movie, too, which most people tend to forget about: Big and Little Enos Burdette, played by Pat McCormick and Paul Williams, respectively. If you’ll recall, these are the two guys who hire the Bandit to make his famous beer-run to Texarkana. Well, I learned today that the “big” half of this team, Pat McCormick, passed away over the weekend at the age of 78.
Like many of the deceased actors I write about here, I imagine most of my readers don’t know his name, but you’ll probably know his face when you see it. He appeared in a lot of movies and television programs during the ’70s and ’80s (he was a regular fixture on Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show for years). He was also a comedy writer of some note as well as one of those physically large men who lead equally large lives, fueled by booze, pills, and women, and dedicated to outrageous behavior. Sadly, this boisterous, quick-witted man spent his last few years in a state of silent decline after suffering a stroke in 1998. I’ve had some experience with stroke victims; it’s a horrible way to end one’s life, a slow, gradual fade into the darkness.
Naturally, Evanier knew McCormick; he writes about him here and here. The LA Times obit can be found here. (You may need to register to see that one, or use bugmenot. Sorry.)
