I just learned that Mike Evans, the first actor to play Archie Bunker’s neighbor and occasional antagonist Lionel Jefferson on All in the Family (there were two Lionels, you know), died a couple weeks ago at the age of 57. As with so many others I eulogize around here, it was the damned cancer that got him. What a shame — 57 isn’t very old, and I’m sure he had lots of living left to do.

All in the Family was pretty much required viewing around my house when I was growing up. It was one of the few sitcoms that I remember my father ever really laughing at, by which I mean deep, genuine laughter as opposed to mild chuckles or a little smirk-and-nod. Unlike many other sitcoms that I remember watching as a kid but have long since forgotten the details of, All in the Family has stayed with me. I can still recall specific storylines and gags. And I recall the way Lionel zinged Archie time and time again without the crotchety old bigot even realizing it, but also without any true rancor. Lionel genuinely liked Archie, even though he constantly had to set him straight, and that was one of many elements that made the difference between the show being an unwatchable, preachy polemic or entertainment that just happened to carry a message. It was a very human paradox, that Lionel could call Archie a friend. It’s hard to believe the actor who brought him to life — and who is young and immortal in my mind — is gone.

If you’re interested, media critic Jaime J. Weinman has a few comments on Evans (including the interesting story of how he got the role of Lionel) here.

Composing my thoughts about Evans’ death has reminded me of something I complained about the other day, namely that there were a whole lot of notable people who passed on in ’06 that I never got around to writing about. I’m not going to take the time to do full-length obituaries for each of them now — the moment for that is past — but I would like to at least list them and make some brief remarks for each. It seems like the least I can do for people that have been threads in the fabric of my consciousness over the past 37 years. My thanks to Sean Means of the Salt Lake Tribune, whose retrospective a few days ago reminded me of a few names that had slipped my mind.

Beginning with the most recent trio (these things always come in threes, you know), and then proceeding in no particular order:

• Former President Gerald Ford — I have no particular memories of Ford (I was still quite young when he was in office and didn’t start to become politically aware until Carter had replaced him) but in his later years he struck me as a decent and genial guy.
• James Brown — I’m really only a fan of a handful of Brown’s songs (the obvious ones: “I Feel Good,” “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag,” and “Living in America”), but the guy was a constant presence in the pop-culture scene and it seemed like he was going to be around forever. Plus, he inspired one of the funniest bits Eddie Murphy ever did on Saturday Night Live (and he did a lot of classics), “James Brown’s Celebrity Hot Tub.” Will it make it wet? Yeah! Will it make me sweat? Good Gawd!
• Peter Boyle — All the obits for Boyle mentioned his part on the TV show Everybody Loves Raymond (which I didn’t, incidentally; Raymond annoys the hell out of me) and, of course, his most famous role as The Creature in Young Frankenstein. Just to be contrary, however, I tend to think of him in a pair of movies everyone else has forgotten: the execrable “High Noon in Space” Connery vehicle Outland and as Shrevie the cab driver in Alec Baldwin’s version of The Shadow.
• Shelley Winters — One of the last remnants of Hollywood’s Golden Age, Shelley was a class act all the way. I always think of her in her tragic role in the original Poseidon Adventure. (Interestingly, her Poseidon co-star Red Buttons also died in ’06; I hadn’t thought of that until I Means’ article reminded me.)
• Jack Palance — Palance was an icon, plain and simple. The merest mention of his name instantly conjures a number of memorable roles and moments: the villainous gunslinger in Shane, Curly in City Slickers, the lunatic old man doing push-ups on stage at the Oscars. However, my strongest impression of Palance comes from cheesy ’80s television, specifically the show he hosted with his daughter, Holly, Ripley’s Believe It or Not. To this day, whenever I hear those words, whatever the context, I always hear them in Jack’s breathy, ominous whispers… believe it… or not.
• Glenn Ford — Some actors are born to play a particular role, even if it takes them 30 years to get around to it. Ford, who seemed to give off emotional warmth and basic human decency like some kind of radiation, was Pa Kent in Superman: The Movie. Nothing more to be said.
• Christopher Penn — A talented actor who unfortunately never escaped the shadow of his flashier brother Sean, Chris Penn will to me forever be the klutzy-but-likable teenaged cowboy Willard in Footloose. I knew several Willards growing up, and believe me, Chris did them justice.
• Jack Warden — My immediate memory of Warden is of Warren Beatty’s friend and trainer Max in Heaven Can Wait. Specifically, the moment when Beatty reveals that he’s really the supposedly dead Joe living in a new body, and Max simply freezes with his mouth hanging open while Joe starts to fix him some kind of protein shake. Warden was a familiar face who seemed to turn up in everything during the ’70s and ’80s, and it’s always said to think that you won’t see the familiar faces anymore.
• Jane Wyatt — Spock’s mom. I felt as bad about her death as I would for one of my own relatives.
• Mako — Talk about somebody who was in everything! Mako was undoubtedly one of the most familiar Asian faces in American movies and television. He appeared in everything from the TV version of M*A*S*H (he was the North Korean officer who laughs at Frank Burns’ tiny little pistol during the hand-off of a wounded man) to Conan the Barbarian to 2005’s Memoirs of a Geisha. According to his IMDB filmography, he still has two projects yet to be released, including a new version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (he provided the voice of Master Splinter). It’s a fitting final role, and he’s definitely a face — and a voice — I will miss…
• Richard Fleischer — Now for a couple of people you may not know by name. Fleischer was the director of several classic science fiction movies that I grew up loving: Fantastic Voyage, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and Soylent Green, not to mention Conan the Destroyer and Red Sonja. Okay, we won’t mention the last two…
• Joseph Stefano — Stefano was primarily a writer, best known for two projects in particular. Perhaps you’ve heard of them: a film called Psycho and a TV series known as The Outer Limits. Limits, in particular, was a favorite of mine growing up. I loved the moody atmosphere, the frequently theatrical (as in live theater) staging, and the guest appearances by a lot of familiar faces who later went to be somebodies, including an incredibly young Martin Sheen and the inimitable Shatner.
• Dana Reeve — And finally, an actress who was better known for becoming the caretaker and then widow of Christopher Reeve following his devastating accident and paralysis. Dana was a beautiful, intelligent woman who stood by her husband in the face of challenges that would’ve sent many other spouses, male or female, running for the hills. I wouldn’t presume to speculate about how gracefully she dealt with Chris’ situation behind closed doors, but in public she was never anything less than 100 percent supportive and loving, and I greatly admired her because of that. I’m not sure what I believe when it comes to the possibility of an afterlife, but I hope there is something out there for these two, and that they’re together again and able to share a walk together, hand in hand, as they were unable to do for so long in this world. Even better, I hope there are horses there, so they can ride together as they reportedly loved to do before Chris’ accident. If that’s not possible for them, then there is no justice in this universe…