I’m sure you’ve all noticed that the InterWeb has been buzzing with news and commentary about the untimely death of Steve “The Crocodile Hunter” Irwin, the, um, energetic TV personality who was killed yesterday in an underwater encounter with a stingray. I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t surprised in the least that his life was ended by a wild animal. The only unexpected aspect of this story was that his killer wasn’t reptillian in nature.
Well, this sucks: character actor Bruno Kirby has died of leukemia at the tender age of 57. Way too young for someone who still had so much to offer.
Today Lileks applies his usual mixture of insight and off-beat perspective to the late Barnard Hughes. As he always seems to do, he says something I wish I’d thought of for my own write-up on the man:
…He had been 70 years old for the last forty years of his life, it seemed. Perhaps he was cast as an old man long before he was old, and it stuck. Died at the age of 91, which meant he spent half a century as a septugenarian. Happens to some guys. Wilford Brimley, for example, got 15 years shaved off his life at some point; he was a middle-aged guy in “The China Syndrome,” and then he was an Old Coot (with a faint note of Old Fart) with nothing in between except an improbable role as a heavy in “The Firm.” If he ever got an Oscar he’d have to split it with his moustache, which does most of the work.
He also sums up Mickey Spillane, the low-brow mystery/crime writer who died this week, in a single, dead-on-target paragraph. It’s worth a look…
I’ve never seen Sayanora, the film for which Red Buttons won his Oscar in 1958, so I can’t say anything about that. In fact, as I’ve tried to think of a signature Buttons role to hang this tribute on, I find I can’t think of him in any specific part or film. He’s simply one of the many familiar faces that I grew up recognizing on television and in movies, like Barnard Hughes. However, unlike Hughes, who stands out in my mind because of specific characters (or at least a specific character type) that he played, Buttons was always just… Red Buttons.
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.
As long as I’m writing eulogies today, I may as well go for the trifecta and say a few words about TV producer Aaron Spelling, who passed away last weekend at the age of 83.
From Evanier, I’ve learned of another notable death: the character and voice-over actor Lennie Weinrib.
What’s that, you say? The name “Lennie Weinrib” doesn’t ring a bell? Don’t feel bad, I didn’t recognize it, either. But I certainly recognized his best-known role: the title character from the old Sid and Marty Krofft kid’s show H.R. Pufnstuf. I wrote about Pufnstuf in this entry, and I won’t repeat myself except to note that ol’ Puffy was a pretty special part of my childhood, and I’m sorry to hear that his voice has gone silent.
Jim Baen, who founded the very successful publishing company that bears his name, passed away yesterday, some two weeks after suffering a massive stroke. Unlike many of the celebrities I eulogize here, I have no personal feelings toward or about Mr. Baen. I know his name, and I’ve undoubtedly read something he published, but that’s about it. Still, I was moved by the tribute written for him by his friend, the science-fiction author David Drake:
Sad news this afternoon for fans of fantasy art: Tim Hildebrandt, who, along with his brother Greg, was one of the most prominent book illustrators of the 1970s and ’80s, died yesterday at the not-very-advanced age of 67.
Character actor Paul Gleason, who died over the weekend at the age of 67, spent much of his career playing obnoxious, arrogant jerks who are destined for a come-uppance in the final reel. There was, for example, his character in Die Hard, Deputy Police Chief Dwayne T. Robinson, who swaggers onto the scene and promptly makes a bad situation much, much worse. But, as every obituary on the ‘net is noting, Gleason will be remembered for playing one specific jerk, Principal Richard Vernon in the exemplary Brat-Pack flick The Breakfast Club.