I was saddened to learn this morning that the veteran actor Barnard Hughes has died at the age of 90. He had a long career, stretching back to an uncredited role in a 1954 movie I’ve never heard of, Playgirl, but most people will recognize him from his more recent work playing various crusty old men with soft hearts.

Geek that I am, when I think of Hughes, I immediately picture him as Dumont, the guardian of the I/O Tower in Tron; it’s an interesting performance, considering he has only a handful of lines that, by his later admission, he didn’t entirely comprehend. Somehow, however, he established a concrete personality and a tantilizing glimpse of backstory with the film’s female lead, Cindy Morgan, in only a few moments of screen time. (He also appeared in that film as Dumont’s human counterpart, Dr. Gibbs, a kindly inventer and putterer who started the film’s evil computer company in his garage, only to be sidelined by his young and ambitious partner.) Other Gen-Xers may know him as Grandpa in the ’80s-vintage “Corey and Corey” classic The Lost Boys (Hughes got the best line in the film: “One thing about living in Santa Carla I never could stomach: all the damn vampires.”), or as the curmudgeonly town doctor in the Michael J. Fox vehicle Doc Hollywood (a pleasant little movie of a sort that doesn’t seem to get made anymore).

Just to show off my knowledge of the obscure, I think I first became of aware of Hughes via a short-lived TV sitcom which pre-dated even Tron, Mr. Merlin. Hughes played Merlin the Magician, as in King Arthur’s Merlin the Magician, living in modern times and running a garage. To his horror, Merlin discovers that the heir to Excalibur is his klutzy teenaged neighbor, the last person in the universe he wants for an apprentice. Although the specific plotlines long ago faded into the mist (and from the sound of this vintage review, that’s no great loss), I can recall that I watched this show every week, faithfully. I suspect that it was pretty dippy, but I have no doubt that Hughes played his part with dignity and charm, as he did every role he played.

The New York Times has a nice obituary of Hughes, highlighting his stage work a bit more than film or television roles, and The Incredible Shrinking Critic shares a personal rememberance here.