The Three Deceased Men
When those of us at the Celebrity Death Trio™ headquarters hear “Ho, ho, ho!” we don’t think of Santa Claus: we think of digging through six feet of frozen ground with a large piece of industrial machinery. And fortunately for us, back hoes are always at the ready when celebrities decide to roll down the red carpet of resurrection on their way to the ground floor of grief.
Yes, this time of year we’re talking about replacing the Three Wise Men with the Three Deceased Men. And it’s not “Jingle Bells,” it’s “for whom the bell tolls.”
It tolls for three.
Herewith, the departed.
• Dan Fogelberg
Musician. 56. Fogelberg ushered in the era of “soft rock” with contemporaries James Taylor and the Eagles in the mid-70s (unfortunately, none of the Eagles have been featured as members of the CDT—we’re still hoping!). Fogelberg was actually the least offensive of the wimp rockers, with insightful lyrics and interesting arrangements on songs such as “Part Of The Plan,” “The Power Of Gold,” and “Leader Of The Band.” His tune “Longer” has been a wedding standard for baby boomers who feel the need to usher in their vows with a sappy lite-rock song that sets the mood. C’mon, you know it: “Longer than there’ve been fishes in the ocean . . .” Fogelberg recorded more than 20 albums up until being diagnosed several years ago with prostate cancer.
• Ike Turner
Musician. 76. Many of his fans consider Ike Turner to be the real father of rock and roll. He wrote the seminal rock tune “Rocket 88,” and may have been the first to electric guitar distortion on record. On the other hand, many non-fans consider him to be little more than the guy who beat up his wife Anna Mae Bullock—better known as Tina Turner. Throughout the 1960s, Ike and Tina made sweet music like “Nutbush City Limits” and “Proud Mary” when they weren’t making chin music on each other. Tina eventually left Ike in the dust, and he struggled for years as a has-been with a nasty drug addiction. He was even sitting in a jail cell on the day that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inducted him (although jail is currently a much more noble institution than the R&R Hall of Shame). Ike’s cause of death was apparently not drugs but emphysema—or possibly the fact that he was married a total of 14 times.
• Shawn Eckardt
Bodyguard. 40. Eckardt was one of those guys whose name you sorta-kinda-almost remember, but not quite. Then it hits you—literally and figuratively: he was Tonya Harding’s assistant . . . the guy who masterminded the knee-capping of Harding’s much too perky rival, Nancy Kerrigan. As Harding’s bodyguard, big Shawn made sure that Kerrigan was “taken care of” just prior to the 1994 U.S. Figure Skating Championships, but Nancy recovered to garner a silver in that year’s Olympics. Tonya, of course, was banned form skating for life and retired to her trailer park. After serving 18 months in jail, Eckardt changed his name to Brian Sean Griffin, but soon racked up another assault charge. Although in a perfect world the obese Shawn would have died while attempting a triple Lutz or a quadruple Salchow, he instead died of natural causes. Life isn’t always fair, is it?
RIP, one and all. And jingle all the way. Ho, ho, ho.
* * *
Holiday Dropping
The week after Thanksgiving is typically the time for easing back into work after too much turkey and tequila, or for showing up at Wal-Mart at 5 AM to score the really great holiday shopping deals. Of course, the fact that the deals get better the longer you wait seems to escape the notice of the vast sea of shopping mutants.
But for the Grim Reaper, there is no rest during the holiday season, when picking over the bones means more than just separating the white meat from the dark. And nothing says “Happy Holidays” like three celebrities marching to their final reward singing classics like “We Three Kings” or “It Came Upon A Midnight Clear.” Of course, these songs take on a different significance when you realize our celebs are singing about death and not the baby Jesus.
So come all ye faithful, and wish our holiday has-beens the fondest of farewells.
Herewith, the departed.
• Kevin DuBrow
Singer. 52. DuBrow was the shrieking voice behind Quiet Riot, the first band to have a heavy metal album debut at #1 on the Billboard charts. The album was “Metal Health” and it was driven by the band’s only big hit, the lyrically poetic “Cum On Feel The Noize.” DuBrow was found dead in his Las Vegas home by a friend, and the cause is still undetermined. The rock world mourns the loss of . . . ahh, who are we kidding? The truth is, no one’s mourning his loss. DuBrow was not well-liked in the music community because he was a loudmouthed, pompous ass with bad hair who could barely spell talent, let alone use it. And that’s just what his friends thought.
• Sean Taylor
Football player. 24. The Washington Redskin’s star safety was a Pro Bowler with a seven-year, $18 million contract. Apparently, this didn’t mean much to the intruder who broke into Taylor’s bedroom and shot and killed him in the middle of the night. Interestingly, less than a week earlier, there had been another break-in at Taylor’s house and the burglar in that incident left a large knife on the bed. Perhaps that should have been a tip-off that things were not destined to proceed in Mr. Taylor’s favor. No stranger to criminal behavior himself—Taylor was busted for felony assault charges two years ago—he is nonetheless missed by his teammates and fans who universally praised his playing skills. We here at the CDT think this might be part of a lethal football trend: in the last two years, NFL players have been taking more bullets than the runner-up at a Michael Vick dog show.
• Henry Hyde
Congressman. 83. Most of you will remember Hyde as the white-haired crusader who led the impeachment proceedings against then-President Bill Clinton (you know, the guy who said “It depends on what the meaning of ‘is’ is” and “I did not have sex with that woman”). Serving in the House of Representatives from 1975 to 2007, Hyde was the ultimate conservative, an opponent of abortion, same-sex marriage, and flag-burning. Much of his carefully crafted holier-than-thou image came crashing down when he attacked Clinton during the Lewinsky affair, only to have his own extra-marital fling revealed in the process. Hyde died of complications from heart surgery, which strikes the CDT as strange since Hyde never showed signs of having an actual heart during his years in Congress.
RIP, one and all.
Tricks Or Treats
With Halloween falling smack dab in the middle of the work week, it felt like the Celebrity Death Trio™ got a full five day’s worth of trick or treating during America’s annual FrightFest. Little ghouls wandering the neighborhood, zombies at work, freaks strolling the aisles of the grocery store . . . and that was before anyone got dressed up.
Great costumes were found on nearly every doorstep, but the newest CDT members didn’t need any makeup or even a bag full of Reese’s Cups to top our list for “Best Dead Celebrity Disguise.” They just had to be themselves and promise not to rot like a badly carved pumpkin. They kept that promise, so in this season of (Almond) Joy, where Death has tapped each of our Three Musketeers with its (Butter) Finger of finality, gaze up at the Milky Way and blow a (Hershey’s) Kiss to our recent Starbursts. Or visit them in their freshly dug (Peter Paul) Mounds, where we (Cad)bury all celebs of good taste.
All right, no more Snickers. Herewith, the departed.
• Robert Goulet
Singer. 73. Goulet’s rich, deep baritone voice was immediately recognizable to almost everyone on the planet. From his star-turn as Lancelot in the original staging of “Camelot” to his big finale as Wheezy the Penguin in “Toy Story 2,” Goulet was hard to miss. He’d has his share of strange events: he famously forgot the words to the “Star Spangled banner” before a boxing match (like any of us would remember those lyrics) and appeared lately in commercials for Emerald Nuts and ESPN. He was truly the last of an era, a suave mustachioed singer who commanded big crowds in Vegas and in local theaters, and who managed to sing Christmas songs with conviction. Goulet died while waiting for a lung transplant after a recent diagnosis of interstitial pulmonary fibrosis. His most famous tune contained the line “If Ever I Would Leave You . . . it wouldn’t be in summer.” How right he was.
• Porter Wagoner
Singer. 80. The original rhinestone cowboy, Wagoner sang country western music when it was indeed both country and western. Attired for most of his life in wagon wheel suits and a pompadour haircut that defined “Hillbilly Deluxe” fashion, Wagoner sang simple songs about hard times. Wagoner was a regular part of the Grand Ole Opry for more than half a century, and his “Porter Wagoner Show” ran for 21 years on TV. That show featured his band the Wagoneers along with a very young unknown named Dolly Parton. The big-breasted one rose to fame on the show—some claim she also rose to fame in Wagoner’s bed—and for many years Porter and Dolly were country western’s favorite duo. In addition to racking up 29 Top Ten hits, Wagoner—who died of lung cancer—had 81 singles that reached the country charts, averaging more than one a year for every year of his life.
• Paul W. Tibbetts, Jr.
Pilot. 92. Tibbetts was in the driver’s seat of the Enola Gay the day that plane dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. He was recruited for the mission due to his exceptional piloting skills, which came in pretty darn handy when the mushroom cloud from the blast threatened to engulf the B-29 Superfortress he was flying. Tibbetts was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his performance and eventually became an Air Force General. In his later years, historians and second-guessers questioned the morality of what he had done in delivering his lethal cargo to Japan. We’re not here to pass judgment—that’s already been taken care of—so we’ll leave you with his famous quote: “I viewed my mission as one to save lives. I didn’t bomb Pearl Harbor. I didn’t start the war, but I was going to finish it.” BTW, the Enola Gay was named after Tibbetts’ mom.
RIP, one and all.
PS. This busy flu season kept us from filing an October 17 CDT on Joey Bishop (the last of the Rat Packers), Teresa Brewer (1950s pop princess) and Deborah Kerr (actress). Here’s our recap: they all died in the same week. The end.
Falling Around
The calendar says October, but it's 85 degrees outside and we're still drinking gin and tonics and wearing white to dinner parties. In fact, we even went to the beach this week. Unfortunately, the warm weather took our mind off our day job, which is to report religiously on the demise of those three celebrities who all died in the space of the same week. Yes, the Celebrity Death Trio™ has been caught slacking, and now we're hurrying to catch up. But at least we're delivering this news to you while it's still warm, which is more than we can say about the body temperature of our featured guests. In fact, the only thing more chilled than our terminal triumvirate is our thirst-quenching gin and tonic, which we like both shaken and stirred.
This week's horizontal heavenlies know more than a little about what it takes to shake and stir things up. They each had long and memorable careers on stage and on the field, becoming iconic figures for their performances during the 1960s and 1970s. They were throwbacks to a simpler time, perhaps, when substance (and not substance abuse) meant more than style. If they were starting out today, our celebs would have to compete with the likes of K-Fed's kids and Michael Vick's pets for attention. To their credit, however, by passing on this past week they no longer have to live through the hell of watching Notre Dame football or Mets baseball.
So, take a moment to shout adios to our permanent retirees, who are napping comfortably on the couch of dreamless sleep. From here on in, they're part of the Six Feet Under Collection in the City of Silent Celebrities.
Herewith, the departed.
* Lois Maxwell
Actress. 80. To a generation of James Bond fans, Lois Maxwell was Miss Moneypenny, the sex-starved secretary in the front office of Her Majesty's Secret Service. In any other movie, Maxwell would have been the hot babe, but in 007's world, she was little more than a frump and a longshot for Bond's affections. She appeared in 14 Bond movies up until 1985, and the CDT™ always wished that James would just take her into the office and make everything right. Alas, it was not to be, and Moneypenny never got her wish. Lois, on the other hand, was much more successful in her own career pursuits. All told, Maxwell starred in more than 80 films and TV shows, including a starring role in one of the all-time great horror movies, 1963's "The Haunting."
* Marcel Marceau
Mime. 84.
[: - (
* Al Oerter
Athlete. 71. One of the truly great Olympians of the 20th century. No one ever expected much from Al, but he proved every doubter wrong. He won the gold for discus throwing in the 1956, 1960, 1964 and 1968 Olympics, becoming the first track and field athlete to win the same Olympic event four times in a row. Considered a long shot every time he showed up due to injuries and high blood pressure, Oerter still managed to beat all competitors, and was the only athlete in history to set four consecutive Olympic records. He actually had his best recorded throw ever at age 43 while practicing for the 1980 Moscow Olympics, but sports wimp Jimmy Carter prohibited U.S. athletes from competing in that event. At age 47, during filming for a TV show, Oerter threw 245 feet, which would still be the all-time world record if it had happened during competition. After his career, Big Al worked as a computer executive for Grumman and Reebok, became a motivational speaker, and established himself as an abstract painter.
RIP, one and all.
End Of Summer Siesta
The way this summer has been going, you’d think that celebrities were competing with Barry Bonds to see who could rack up the highest numbers before getting shut down by the powers that be. And while Barry is still banging away, the only thing this week’s celebrities are banging away at is the inside of their coffin lids.
Perhaps it’s the weird weather—tornadoes in the Northeast, scorching and flooding in the Midwest—but a lot of celebrities are doing anything they can to avoid having to join the rest of us mere mortals in braving the forces of nature. Apparently graves are the new storm shelters for the rich and famous.
This week’s Celebrity Death Trio™ is an exciting bunch, with plenty of high-powered intrigue and trend-setting thrown into the mix for good measure. Of course, none of that matters now that they’re all committed to spending the last days of August in some of the best climate-controlled underground facilities available anywhere.
Herewith, the departed.
• Michael Deaver
Reagan enthusiast. 69. Deaver was single-handedly responsible for Reagan’s image in front of the American people; the way the President appeared in public, the settings in which he appeared, and the way that the media covered him. Deaver joined Reagan in the governor’s mansion in California and then helped him through two terms in the White House where he served as deputy chief of staff. After his White House stint, Deaver sought the really big and really criminal bucks in Washington DC, which led to a conviction for lying about his influence peddling—making him a trendsetter for today’s scandal-ridden lobbyists.
• Max Roach
Drummer. 83. Roach helped redefine the limits of what a drummer was expected to do, or could do. He played with every notable jazz musician of the last century, and took percussion into realms never before imagined, making him one of the most important drummers of all time. He played in ensembles from gospel groups and orchestras to brass and drum quartets. A master of improvisation, Roach was so adept that his solo percussion pieces were like listening to entire bands—hardly the bashing and wanking that so many drummers have embraced in his wake. He also spoke out on behalf of civil rights at a time when he was still likely to be lynched, and many of his compositions reflected his perspective on the experience of modern African Americans.
• Leona Helmsley
Hotelier and bitch on wheels. 87. An aggressive go-getter who married her way to the top of New York’s real estate pyramid, Helmsley was reviled as a penny-pinching, foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, hotel-owner who terrorized her staff and skirted the law in order to save a few bucks here and there. She and husband Harry were charged with tax evasion, and while Harry skipped out due to age and mental incompetence, Leona served nearly two years in the slammer. Not content to learn from her mistakes, Leona was found guilty just last week of humiliating and hounding an employee she found out was gay, and he was awarded $11 million. We’re betting he enjoyed her death as much as the settlement. Leona once claimed that “only the little people pay taxes.” Let’s see what the little people in Hell have to think about that when she shows up to clean their bathrooms.
RIP, one and all.
They Lost On Jeopardy
Dear CDT™ Reader,
Nothing takes the edge off the mid-August heat like
three celebrity cool pops served fresh and frosty
from the Resurrection Refrigerator. And that’s what
we’ve got on the dessert menu this week at the
Celebrity Death Trio™ cafeteria. After last week’s
trifecta, we thought that most celebs would be on
vacation or too busy to reserve a seat at the
coroner’s table—at least until Labor Day. But when
the Reaper calls, vacation is over. Or permanent,
depending on which side of the pine box you’re on.
And that would be either the inside or the outside.
Our trio of summer stiffs come from all walks of
life, as it were, and were beloved by sports fans,
TV addicts, and gossip columnists alike. They lived
to ripe, even ripened, old age and were revered
icons in their respective hometowns. So much so,
that you wonder why still breathing celebs like
Michael Vick, Paris Hilton, and O.J. Simpson don’t
just offer up their lives for their hometowns right
this minute.
So crank up the air conditioning and shake up the
margaritas, because our three finalists are going
to be the afterlife of the party in Paradise
tonight.
Herewith, the departed.
• Merv Griffin
Entertainer. 82. A lot of people gave Merv grief
for his biggest musical hit, “I've Got a Lovely
Bunch of Coconuts,” and his amiable if overly
relaxed talk show. But Merv was one of Hollywood’s
shrewdest entertainers. He created two games shows
that have survived for centuries,
Jeopardy!
and
Wheel Of Fortune,
which laid the groundwork for a fortune estimated
at over a billion dollars. We liked his talk show,
his sidekick Arthur Treacher (yes, Mr. Fish &
Chips himself), and the way SCTV parodied him with
its “Merv Griffith Show” (set in Mayberry). Plus,
you have to love a guy who wrote the classic
Jeopardy!
theme song, created
Dance Fever,
owned the Beverly Hilton hotel, and still asked
that his epitaph read “This time, I won’t be right
back after these messages.”
• Brooke Astor
Socialite. 105. Long one of New York City’s most
notable philanthropists, Brooke spent a good
portion of her life donating her husband’s fortune
to New York institutions like the Public Library
and The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Unlike
modern-day socialites, she was eager to spread the
money around to help those less fortunate than her
(which was just about everybody). Married three
times, she inherited the legendary John Jacob Astor
fur fortune from her last husband. Brooke was
indeed the last of a breed whose wealth came from
family fortunes instead of cheating shareholders.
It’s too bad that in her final years, her good name
was besmirched by her son, who apparently kept her
locked away from the world and made her sleep on a
couch so he could spend her money. And he’s 83!
Everyone agrees that he should be the one laid out
in Brooke’s coffin.
• Phil Rizzuto
Baseball great. 89. Phil played his entire career
for the Yankees, winning the MVP award in 1950, and
playing on nine World Series championship teams.
Short of stature, but fast on the field, Rizzuto
was considered by many to be one of the best
shortstops to ever play the game. Youngsters today
probably know him best as a sports announcer—“Holy
Cow!” was his trademark phrase—but the CDT™ loves
him best as the announcer calling the play by play
for Meat Loaf’s impassioned fumbling in the rock
classic “Paradise By The Dashboard Light.”
RIP, one and all.
Terminal Trifecta!
Here it is, Celebrity Death Trio™ watchers, the day you've been waiting for all summer long. Yes, we bring you the mortuary equivalent of a Kentucky Derby trifecta: three stunning celebrity deaths in one 24 hour period. It's made for a frenetic and full day down here at CDT Central™, where celebrity deaths over the past few months have been harder to find than Lindsay Lohan's designated driver. But reaffirming that celebs really aspire to expire in threes, we've got a newly minted terminal trio all packed and ready to check into the Hades Hilton.
Each of our graveyard guests was an iconic figure in his respective field, gaining notoriety for an unusual style and breaking with tradition. They're sure to be celebrating their accomplishments together at the Great Beyond Bar & Grille, where the cocktails are served cold and stiff . . . and so are the guests.
Herewith, the departed.
* Ingmar Berman
Film director. 89. Bergman was considered one of the greatest movie directors of all time, having taken the medium from its early black and white days to its existential and color-saturated heights. He directed some 50 films during his career, and was nominated for 9 Oscars. His 1957 film "The Seventh Seal" is a veritable classic, pitting a soldier against death in a solitary chess match set on a beach. Americans, who typically think a foreign film is something starring Jennifer Lopez, often confused the director with ravishing actress Ingrid Bergman of "Casablanca" fame. Both were extremely talented Swedes, but unrelated, and Miss Bergman has been part of the CDT since 1982. Skål, Ingmar.
* Tom Snyder
Talk show host. 71. Snyder's late night chatfests established the informal sit-around-and-gab interviews that are now part and parcel of the TV landscape. Snyder was a New York anchorman for years before nailing the late night spot on "Tomorrow" in 1973 in the hours after Johnny Carson had been tucked in to bed. Before the era of 24 hour TV and David Letterman and Conan O'Brien, he was the only thing worth watching for a nation of insomniacs and college students. Immortalized by Dan Ackroyd in early SNL skits who parodied his confrontational style and onset jokes with offstage crew, Snyder had great guests who ranged from Marlon Brando to Ayn Rand to Truman Capote to the last TV interview with John Lennon. His multi-colored 70's styled haircut, leisure suits, and ubiquitous swirling cigarette smoke were all trademarks, the latter probably helping to kill him since he died form leukemia.
* Bill Walsh
Football coach. 75. Walsh coached the San Francisco 49ers to three Super Bowl championships, establishing him as one of the smartest and most skilled gents in the history of professional football. After serving more than a decade bouncing around low level positions in the pros, he was hired as a head coach at Stanford in 1977. Two years later, at the ripe old age of 47, Walsh was hired to lead the 49ers and compiled a stellar 92-59-1 record. With his shock of white hair, he became known as "The Genius" for his inventive approach to the passing game. The proof was in the careers of the guys he led: Joe Montana, Ronnie Lott, and Jerry Rice. Walsh spent his post-game years as a broadcaster, and like fellow NBC talking head Tom Snyder, he was killed by leukemia.
RIP, one and all . . .
The Drought Is Dead
Dear CDT Reader,
All we did was ask you to pray for rain. You did.
In droves.
After the longest “dearth of deaths” drought in its
82-year history, the Celebrity Death Trio™ emerges
rejuvenated and victorious this week, feeling like
a dainty butterfly emerging from its stifling
cocoon. Maybe it was anticipation of Fourth of July
fireworks, or the fear of an impending Friday the
13th, but three celebs jumped deep enough into the
cemetery swimming pool to splash up a few goodbye
waves. Interestingly enough, they all came from the
world of the arts, almost as if the chairman of
some Intergalactic Arts Council decreed that he
just couldn’t go another week without reading the
CDT. Plus, every one of our recently recycled died
of cancer. So, that’s freaking us out a little.
We have to admit we’re a few days behind on getting
this one out. After all, the hotline hadn’t rung
since April, so we can be excused for slipping out
of the office for a few days at a time to catch
maybe up on some sleep, maybe file some paperwork,
or maybe hit an early happy hour. But we’re back
with a vengeance. And admit it: you’ve been waiting
for this moment just as long as we have. Welcome
back.
Herewith, the departed.
• Beverly Sills
Opera diva. 78. The widely admired Sills provided
America with its most famous opera star. Born Belle
Miriam Silverman, yet known as “Bubbles,” Sills had
graced stages around the world since the late
1940s. In the intervening years, she did more to
popularize opera across America than anyone before
or since. She was a popular guest on TV talk shows,
and was even given her own show in the 1970s. In
later years, she took on the job of running several
of New York City’s musical institutions, including
the Metropolitan Opera and Lincoln Center. She was
treated for colon cancer in 1974, and although she
was a non-smoker, died of recently discovered lung
cancer. One of the great ironies in her life was
that of all the people in the world who lined up to
listen to Sills, her daughter Meredith never heard
Beverly sing. Meredith was born deaf.
• Liz Claiborne
Fashion designer. 78. Born into a prominent
American family, Claiborne worked for decades as a
designer in second-tier fashion firms. In the 1960s
and 1970s, she sensed a need for working women to
have clothes for the workplace and for everyday
that were ready to wear, and easy to match. Her
employers wouldn’t buy into the idea, so she bailed
out in 1976 to start her eponymously named
business. The company, Liz Claiborne, Inc. was
immensely successful and was the first business
founded by a woman to become a Fortune 500 company.
Today it is a $5 billion dollar enterprise that
includes lines like Juicy Couture. Liz left the
day-to-day business in 1989, but the CDT™ has to
give her credit for a inspired innovation: the
company directory was always printed up in
alphabetical order, not by corporate rank.
• Joel Siegel
Film Critic. 63. The mustachioed Siegel was a
thoughtful and informed critic in a world of
petulant and talentless hacks. Not to be confused
with his crosstown rival—the creepy Groucho
Marx-styled freak show that goes by the name of
Gene Shalit—Siegel spent more than two decades
reviewing films for
Good Morning America.
He had a diverse career well before that: he wrote
speeches and one-liners for Robert F. Kennedy,
wrote a Broadway musical on the life of Jackie
Robinson, and worked for Baskin-Robbins naming ice
cream flavors. That last job alone gets two thumbs
up from us.
RIP, one and all.
PS. Don’t forget to expand your world at
http://www.verybestveryworst.com
You’ll be smarter in less than 60 seconds. We
promise.
Wicked, Weary, and Withered
No rest for the wicked, the weary, or the withered as we like to say here at the Celebrity Death Trio™. We were still getting caught up on our sleep and enjoying a brief few hours of springtime in the wakes of our last trio (Vonnegut, Ho, and Hart) when Cold Weather ushered in Cold Bodies of Cold Warriors from the Cold War Era.
Not only was it like being dropped into a black and white documentary of the 1960s, with tanks and assassinations and battles, but for a few moments the world became Acronym Central: JFK, LBJ, MPAA, MGM, DMZ, and the USSR. In that spirit, we’ll send our three dead celebs off with this special CDT, rated a family-friendly PG-13.
Herewith, the departed.
• Jack Valenti
Movie industry flack. 85. Valenti was the Napoleonic leader of the Motion Picture Association of America, the organization that regulates movies (or not, depending on your standards) and assigns the infamous MPAA rating to them. After serving as an assistant and best friend to Lyndon Johnson for decades—Valenti even named his kid John Lyndon—he went to Hollywood where he helped the industry stave off criticism of its targeting its increasingly violent and blatantly sexual films to younger audiences. His advertising background came in handy when he came up with the letters we all know and love today: G, PG, R, and X. One little known fact about Valenti: if you look closely at the famous photography of LBJ getting sworn in on the plane after JFK’s assassination, you can see Valenti crouching on the left side. Which, coincidentally, is where he had the stroke that ultimately killed him.
• Boris Yeltsin
Russian President. 76. Yeltsin was the unlikely hero behind the collapse of Communism across the Soviet Union. In 1991, he became the first freely elected president of Russia, and also the first to leave willingly when his term was up. He single-handedly fought off a coup by Soviet hardliners by climbing atop a tank, and two years later had tanks fire on last remaining Communists in the Parliament building. An unusual diplomat for the world stage—he was a walking, talking, slurring parody of Russian tractor farmers and vodka drinkers—his aggressive political skills literally forced the Communist Party to toss in the towel and tear down the wall. He handed the reins of Russia over to Vladimir Putin in 1999, and then retired to devote time to his greatest loves: tennis and vodka. Neither of which, we suppose, helped the heart condition which ultimately killed him.
• David Halberstam
Writer. 73. Halberstam was a Pulitzer-winning journalist who wrote about the Vietnam War firsthand and took on some of the biggest names in American history. He was The New York Times’ reporter in South Vietnam beginning in 1962, and JFK apparently tried to have him fired for negative coverage of the way things were going in Saigon. Halberstam eventually wrote about America’s defeat in his book “The Best And The Brightest” which became a catchphrase for those individuals who dominated the 1960s. His books were typically about war or sports, not that there’s a lot of difference between the two. He was killed in a car crash in California while working on a book about the football rivalry between the New York Giants and the Baltimore Colts.
RIP, one and all.
* * *
UPDATE: In our last CDT, we featured cartoonist Johnny Hart, who created the comic strips “B.C.” and “The Wizard of Id.” His co-creator of “Id,” Brant Parker, died exactly eight days after Hart did. Eight days made 86-year old Parker ineligible for the “three deaths in one week” rule that we use hear at the CDT; a rule that is considered by many in journalism to be among the most strenuously enforced of any news organization on the planet. This just goes to show that timing, like location, is everything.
And take time out of your busy schedule to stop over at the new VERY BEST & VERY WORST today. It’ll warm your soul.
So It Went
Like most of you, the Celebrity Death Trio™ is still digging out from the recent deluge. After eight inches of rain, snowstorms, and winter weather in the middle of April, we decided to go back to our Bibles to look for some weather parallels. By our calculation, rivers should be running red with blood and a plague of locusts should be descending on the Earth sometime in May.
While we were digging out, there were three special celebrities who won’t be digging anything anytime soon, unless it’s from the inside of a pine box at six feet below ground level. These celebs no longer have to deal with inclement weather or chaos typically reserved for Old Testament events. Instead, they get to deal with God on a one-to-one basis from now on.
This week’s three are all from the world of the arts, and you can bet the heavenly hordes will be gathered around this veritable eternal entertainment center for millions of years to come.
Herewith, the departed.
• Kurt Vonnegut
Writer. 84. Vonnegut’s novels came to the define the sardonic angst of the Vietnam generation with his written forays into science fiction worlds where Nazis and malevolent ice chips threatened to undermine our stable little lives. The CDT™ was never a big fan of Vonnegut in high school, where Kurt’s books were as common as Cat Stevens’ eight-tracks. We’ve developed an appreciation of him and his sharp perspective as we’ve grown older, and now think that Kurt may have been our last great novelist. Vonnegut died from brain injury sustained after falling down. So it does.
• Don Ho
Singer. 76. Ho put Hawaii on the musical map with tropical-sounding pop and his big hit “Tiny Bubbles.” Sure, it was kitschy, but the guy invented the entire genre, and to this day we doubt anyone can create a mental image of a Hawaiian lounge singer that isn’t derived from Ho’s ubiquitous—and yes, innovative—stage act. Ho was still performing and playing sold-out shows in Waikiki right up until the tiny bubble that was his aorta burst. Aloha, indeed.
• Johnny Hart
Cartoonist. 76. Hart created two of the most popular post-“Peanuts” comic strips of all-time with “B.C.” and “The Wizard of Id.” Taking the travails and idiocy of modern life and transporting them back to the Stone Age as well as medieval times, Hart’s cartoons were a 10 second respite from the horrors of the daily newspapers every day for the last 43 years. Like one of the sudden lightning bolts delivering a heavenly “ZOT!” to his characters, Hart was struck down while working at his drawing table.
RIP, one and all.
Less Than A Feeling
You know, we had more than a feeling that this was going to be a busy week here at The Celebrity Death Trio™ headquarters. Just when we thought we’d get some peace of mind after last week’s tally of Nixon-era deadheads, the Terminal Ticker Tape started spitting out the names of celebs faster than you can say “Don’t Look Back.”
The CDT is dismayed that there seems to have been some strange suicide pact amongst this weeks guests, two of whom decided to book their own flights to the Forever Farm. But ours is not to judge nor mourn; it is simply to wish them all the best as they take the stage for one everlasting encore. No time for a dirtnap after the show, however, because they’ll be headed off to their big “meet and greet” with St. Pete.
Herewith, the departed.
• Brad Delp
Musician. 55. If you listen to classic rock radio, the only voice you hear more on a daily basis than your own is Brad Delp’s. The banshee wails and castrato choruses he provided for Boston, prime purveyors of power pop in the 1970s, reverberate in our eardrums from sources as disparate as radio, Muzak, and TV commercials. Delp was found dead last week in his home, with friends expressing how excited he had been about an imminent Boston tour and a wedding planned for the summer. They also called him the “nicest guy in rock and roll.” Well, it appeared the nicest guy in rock and roll was tired of putting up such a brave face, because he was found in a locked bathroom with two “smokin’” charcoal grilles that caused him to die of carbon monoxide poisoning. Suicide is a bad way for anyone to go, especially someone who seemed to have his shit together. But maybe even he got tired of hearing all those damned Boston songs.
• Richard Jeni
Comedian. 49. Jeni was one of the leading lights of the standup comedy circuit for the past two decades. He recorded more visits to The Tonight Show—with both Johnny Carson and Jay Leno—than any other comic in history. He killed in “The Aristrocrats,” arguably one of the funniest movies in history. Yet he never found success in that rarefied world of sitcoms or big film comedies, which apparently led him to clinical depression and psychotic paranoia. His best known role was simply that of Jim Carrey’s friend in “The Mask.” Like Brad Delp, Jeni decided to meet his maker on his own terms by committing suicide. Unlike Delp, he opted to choose a slightly more jarring method of biting the bullet by . . . er . . . biting the bullet.
• Bowie Kuhn
Baseball commissioner. 80. We disliked Kuhn so much during his time as baseball’s most tight-assed commissioner that he was the only one on this week’s list we thought had a possible justification for taking his own life. Alas, Kuhn died from pneumonia. During his reign from 1969 to 1984, baseball changed dramatically and became the serious business it is today. Attendance nearly doubled during his 15 years in power, with broadcasters begging to buy TV rights like Barry Bonds at a shuttered steroid clinic. But Kuhn also oversaw a period when baseball became a haven for spoiled brat players, coddled owners, multimillion-dollar contracts, cancelled seasons, and a never-ending series of seemingly arbitrary suspensions and fines. After his baseball career was over, Kuhn opened his own legal firm, which he eventually drove into bankruptcy. Given the state of professional baseball, the irony is not lost on us.
RIP, one and all.
No Whine Before Its Time
Dear CDT Reader,
It’s time to get out the “way-back machine.” We’ll be testing your memory of days gone by because this week’s merry band of mortuary marchers all achieved their moments of great fame several years ago. Okay, several decades ago. Okay, so it was during the Nixon era. But age makes them no less famous for their accomplishments. Just ask other Nixon-era celebs like Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney, and Paul Newman.
Fame may be fleeting, but it still gets you into that elite club known as the Celebrity Death Trio™. As new members, our terminal troika is sure to be having the time of their (after)lives as they sit down for a non-stop meal at Beelzebub’s banquet, one of the few places left where smoking is still allowed . . . and even encouraged.
Herewith, the departed.
• Ernest Gallo
Winemaker. 97. Ernest was one half of famous brother duo whose company currently sells one out of every four bottles of wine that Americans drink. The brothers (known in the lexicon as the inseparable “ernestandjuliogallo”) opened a small winery in 1933 just months after their father killed their mother and then himself. Using family funds and an old family recipe, the boys prospered with the repeal of Prohibition. They really struck gold with the introduction of “Thunderbird,” a cheap fruity wine aimed at the “misery market” and still favored by winos and penny-pinching frat boys alike. It wasn’t until the last two decades that Gallo went upscale, but for some of us, Gallo will always mean jug wine. Ernest was apparently a very dour human—paternal murder-suicides will do that—and for a man who would sell no wine before his time, this week it was obviously time.
• Arthur Schlesinger, Jr.
Presidential historian. 87. Schlesinger was one of the developers of modern liberalism, developed through years of studying America and its leaders. He won two Pulitzer Prizes (for books on Andrew Jackson and JFK) and served in the Kennedy White House as the resident historian and special assistant. Schlesinger also acted as the Kennedy administration’s high society party boy and arranged sit-downs between Kennedy and leading intellectuals and artists of the day. (Sinatra apparently arranged the lie-downs.) Schlesinger later campaigned for Robert F. Kennedy, and was one of the first writers to call for the impeachment of Richard Nixon. And even as an unabashed liberal, he called for Bill Clinton’s impeachment. The CDT™ wishes he was still here to comment on Hillary.
• Billy Thorpe
Musician. 60. Although revered in Australia for many decades, Thorpe conquered the U.S. airwaves with only one tune, “Children Of The Sun.” Thorpe was arguably Australia’s biggest rock star during the 1960s and 70s, and attendance at his concerts broke records for years. He was also credited with inventing the kind of Aussie pub rock that gave birth to AC/DC, INXS, and a host of others. The release of “Children Of The Sun” in 1979 made Thorpe one of American rock’s strangest one-hit wonders, as the song mixed sci-fi with psychedelia and a childlike longing for the Woodstock era. In recent years he produced music for TV shows and played in Mick Fleetwood’s band, The Zoo. When Thorpe died this past week from a massive heart attack, more than 7000 people attended his funeral, including musical icons from around the world. No word on whether members of Black Sabbath were invited to play their classic, “Children Of The Grave.”
RIP, one and all.
* * *
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http://www.verybestveryworst.com
The Sporting (After) Life
Death is a non-contact sport. That is, unless it involves car crashes, train wrecks, and airplane disasters. But a sport, nonetheless. You’re going on-on-one with the Lord Of The Underworld in a winner-take-all match in which your life is the only trophy. Either you get to keep it, or you have to hand it over to the competition. And no matter how often you hold on to that prize, you know there’ll come a day when you relinquish your precious crown and leave the ring in a pine box.
This week’s team roster at the Celebrity Death Trio™ is curiously heavy on professional athletes. It’s almost as if someone juiced their Gatorade with arsenic instead of the usual metabolic steroids. On this field, though, the slam dunk is another name for how they lower the coffin into the ground and a gridiron is Satan’s favorite cooking utensil.
Herewith, the departed.
• Dennis Johnson
Professional basketball player. 52. One of the all-time greats of professional basketball, DJ made his name in the NBA before the league became a refuge for illiterate punks and street thugs. He and Larry Bird led the Boston Celtics during the team’s 1980s’ heyday as a championship powerhouse. He also led the Seattle Supersonics to their only championship in 1979 and was MVP during the finals that year. He was also named to nine consecutive NBA All-Defensive teams and was the 11th NBA player to reach more than 15,000 points and 5,000 assists. Johnson completed one of the most famous plays in NBA history during the 1987 conference finals when Bird stole an inbound pass and tossed to DJ, who laid up the final point to beat Detroit at the buzzer. Johnson spent the last few years coaching the Austin Toros (in basketball’s minor league), and collapsed from a heart attack after a light practice. He joins the CDT™ roster just a few months after fellow Celtic inductee Red Auerbach.
• Lamar Lundy
Professional football player. 71. Lundy played for the Los Angeles Rams (back when LA actually had a real football team) as a defensive tight end. During the 1960s, as the NFL was gaining popularity, Lundy was a member of the original “Fearsome Foursome,” arguably one of the most infamous lines in sports, featuring fellow huge humans and future actors Rosie Grier, Deacon Jones, and Merlin Olsen. The 6’7” Lundy played pro ball from 1957 to 1969, played in the Pro Bowl, and spent his later years broadcasting for local teams in his hometown of Richmond, IN. He’d been in poor health for quite some time, suffering from heart problems and myasthenia gravis.
• Damien Nash
Professional football player. 24. Nash was a fifth round draft choice for the Tennessee Titans in 2005 after a stellar career at the University of Missouri. He was picked up by the Denver Broncos last year, and played in three games for the mile-high team. His death, which occurred while playing basketball, might not have made the headlines except for two things: 1) he was a young professional athlete and 2) he’s the second Bronco to join the Purgatory Parade in just over a month. Teammate Darrent Williams died after being shot to death in his limousine after leaving a nightclub in January. Man, if the Astroturf and the brain damage don’t kill these NFL guys, something else always seems to be waiting on the sidelines.
RIP, one and all.
The Unsung
Some celebrities live for the camera, the printed review, the fawning blogs, or the screaming fans. It defines their celebrity. Turn off the media eye, and they disappear. That’s why you see so many celebs on cheesy infomercials: it may be bad TV, but it’s a real camera and it goes out into real people’s home. It’s also why we still recognize Erik Estrada, Lindsay Wagner, Victoria Principal, and Christie Brinkley instead of wondering “aren’t they dead yet?”
In marked contrast, our celebrity guests at the CDT™ this week are the type typically referred to as “behind the scenes” or “off the radar.” They didn’t enjoy the Britney Spears-shave-my-head-in-public-breakdown-on-the-way-to-rehab kind of fame. Rather, these people were content to sit back and live their lives by letting their actions speak for them. No cameras, no paparazzi, no teenage fans stalking them at the local mall. It’s a different kind of fame, and maybe one more celebs ought to embrace. That way, we wouldn’t have to be subjected to the daily headcount of who is checking into the local detox clinic because of “an addiction to prescription painkillers.” Oh, right. Since when do you need a prescription for tequila and cocaine painkillers?
Hats off to our unsung underground trio for going out in style.
Herewith, the departed.
Ray Evans
Songwriter. 92. You don’t know his name, but you love his songs. He and writing partner Jay Livingston were among the most respected songwriting teams in Hollywood, composing for both film and TV. The best tribute we can give him is to list a few of our favorites: the theme to “Mr. Ed” (a horse is a horse, of course, of course), the theme to “Bonanza,” “Que Sera Sera,” “Buttons And Bows, “Mona Lisa,” and “To Each His Own.” He had retired some twenty years ago, living—as all good musicians should—off of his huge royalty checks.
Robert Adler
Inventor. 93. Another name you don’t know, but you’re clicking his greatest invention every day. Adler came up with the technology that made the wireless remote control possible. Trained as a physicist in Austria before WWII, he came to America to work at Zenith (an iconic TV maker, for those of you too young to remember). The company was trying to add bells and whistles to new-fangled TV in the 1950s, and wired remotes weren’t cutting it. Adler was brought in help design a remote that didn’t plug in to the TV and didn’t affect every other TV on the block. His “Space Command” was introduced in 1956, and immediately gave birth to a new species of human, the couch potato. His device made a small click when activated, leading a whole generation to refer to remotes as “the clicker.” Adler went on to receive over 180 patents during his lifetime, including some for improving TV reception.
Vincenzo Ricardo.
Ummmm . . . 70. You don’t know him, and apparently, neither did his neighbors. Vincenzo is one of that rare breed of humans who becomes a celebrity because of their death. They have no claim to fame until the Reaper knocks on their door. Unfortunately for Vincenzo, if someone really had knocked on his door, he might still be alive. You see, Mr. Ricardo was found dead this past week in his New York home. More importantly, he had been dead for at least a year. When police went to investigate a broken water pipe in the area, they found Vincenzo sitting in front of a blaring TV, mummified. He apparently died of natural causes in December 2005, although if he was watching “American Idol” that might have caused it. Neighbors thought he’d moved to a nursing home.
RIP, one and all.
Train Wrecks In Slow Motion
Dear CDT Reader,
Those of us who man the phones here at the
Celebrity Death Trio™ international headquarters
can’t quite remember a day like we had this past
week. The phone lines lit up like Mel Gibson at
happy hour when news came in of a certain TrimSpa
spokeswoman passing out in a Florida hotel. It was
as if the lady in question had been on everyone’s
death watch list for the past five years. Well, she
finally delivered. The slow motion plane crash that
was Anna Nicole Smith finally came to an end.
But in death, as we always note here at the CDT,
she didn’t go alone. She went with two other big
ones; people whose names we instantly recognize
once we stop to think about them. Which, typically,
is only when the funeral procession drives by. That
said, let’s wave goodbye, toss a black rose, and
bow our heads in memory of those who now and
forever will be hanging out at the Terminated Trio
Tavern, where the drinks are free---but you never
ask where the hors d’oeuvres come from.
Herewith, the departed.
• Anna Nicole Smith
Train wreck. 39. In all honesty, there’s nothing
the CDT™ can add to the commentary on this woman’s
life that every news outlet on the planet hasn’t
already trotted out. For tabloid fans, we’ve lost
America’s sweetheart. For Playboy fans, we’ve lost
two of America’s finest talents. For the media,
we’ve lost a sure thing on a slow news day. The
truth is that Anna was a striking woman with a
weight problem, misplaced parental skills, bad
taste in men, a high level of sexual dysfunction
and the IQ of a picnic bench. There’s really
nothing more to add to that stellar roster of
celebrity qualities. In the end, all that the CDT
can say on her behalf was that she was flakier than
a leper colony.
• Frankie Laine
Singer. 93. Frankie was the voice behind the cowboy
classic “Rawhide.” Nothing else had ever so
perfectly captured the whole mythos of the
wranglers of the Wild West—-until “Brokeback
Mountain” came along—-and it won him an Oscar
nomination for best song when Mel Brooks reused it
for “Blazing Saddles.” But Frankie, born Francesco
Paolo LoVecchio and known as “Mr. Rhythm,” was
primarily a revered jazz singer who drew on R&B
influences and scored 21 gold records. He was the
first artist to hold the Number 1 and Number 2
positions on the record charts, and had hits with
"On the Sunny Side of the Street," "That’s My
Desire," and "Dream a Little Dream of Me." He was
so popular that more than a few critics felt there
traces of Frankie’s style in Elvis Presley’s first
recordings. Frankie had three different television
shows in the 1950s, and subsequently was a frequent
guest on everything from “What’s My Line?” to
“American Bandstand.”
• Charles R. Walgreen, Jr.
Famous retailer. 100. Although it was his father
who founded the company, Charlie Jr. was the man
who brought the company into the 20th century.
Literally. Charlie worked in the family’s two
Chicago stores as a delivery boy during World War
II. He took over during WWII, and ran the company
until 1976, building it from a regional chain into
a national giant with $817 million in revenues.
Today, Walgreen’s name is almost synonymous with
the word “pharmacy,” and is the nation’s number one
medication dispenser with sales of $47 billion. At
age 89, Walgreen made an explorer’s trip to
Antarctica, making him the oldest person to ever
venture to the southern continent. Charlie Jr.’s
legacy lives on in the current incarnation of the
family lineage; chairman emeritus Charlie Three.
RIP, one and all.
The Pen vs. The Sword
It’s often said that the pen is mightier than the sword. That may be true, but not when the Grim Reaper is brandishing that sword. We here at the Celebrity Death Trio™ headquarters are big fans of the writing lifestyle, but even we know that there are only so many things you can write your way out of. And a predestined meeting with the Author Of The Afterlife is not one of them.
This week takes an interesting literary twist in that all of our dearly departed made their livelihoods from the printed word. Writing it, selling it, pushing it, or publishing it, they all knew how to reach deep into America’s heart—and pocketbook—and come up with popular fare that enthralled millions. Love them or loathe them, they got people to read, which is quite an accomplishment in an era where many celebrities can barely spell their own names or read their own arrest warrants. So join us as we scribble a fond farewell to a celebrity trio that will never have to meet another deadline. Unless they’re standing in it.
Herewith, the departed.
• Sidney Sheldon
Writer. 89. Depending on your preferred form of entertainment, you knew Sidney from his TV shows, or his stage plays, or his movies, or his trashy novels. His TV shows were legendary and included classics such as I Dream Of Jeannie, The Patty Duke Show, and Hart To Hart. His plays included three musicals, notably Jackpot, that were on Broadway all at the same time. He didn’t start writing novels until he was 50, and then he turned out bestselling thrillers like Rage Of Angels, The Other Side Of Midnight, and Master Of The Game. But he was successful even as a youngster: Sid won an Academy Award for his script for The Bachelor and The Bobby-Soxer back in 1947, when he was a mere 30-year old. He died just two weeks short of his 90th birthday, going to his grave as a Guinness record holder for the author translated into the most languages: 51 at last count.
• Molly Ivins
Writer. 62. Ivins was one of the first female columnists to attract a wide national readership. Adopting a modern day Will Rogers bent to her liberal writings, she claimed that much of her raw Southern style came from growing up in Texas and drinking lots of beer. She wrote for numerous newspapers across the country, including The New York Times, but often pissed off editors for things like calling a chicken-killing festival a “gang-pluck.” She never quite found her voice until given her own column. Syndicated in hundreds of newspapers, it could be hokey and full of cornpone, but it was also barbed and occasionally spot on. Her biggest target was President Bush, with whom she went to high school. She called him Dubya and Shrub, and one of her recent books was titled “Bushwacked.”
• Charles Scripps
Publisher. 87. The scion of the famed Scripps-Howard media enterprise, Charles took over the corporate reins at age 28. The company was founded by his grandfather as a newspaper enterprise, but Charles turned it into a multimedia conglomerate that now includes The Food Network and HGTV. Officially known as the EW Scripps Company, it also publishes just about every daily comic strip you can think of, from Peanuts to Dilbert. But Charles will not be involved in the day-to-day business anymore, as more pressing matters are waiting for him in that world where deadlines have absolutely nothing to do with getting papers out on time.
RIP, one and all.
A Horse Is A Horse, Of Course
The ghostly bones you hear rattling this week aren’t coming from a local graveyard—they’re coming from Barbaro’s hind leg. Or what’s left of it. We have to admit that this is an inauspicious occasion: it’s the first time that the Celebrity Death Trio™ has led with an animal death since Mr. Ed huffed the hay back in 1970. And honestly, we weren’t going to lead with it but since all the major networks did, we figured it was up to us, in the name of journalistic integrity, to make it unanimous.
Not that there wasn’t lot of other headline-worthy news, such as Hillary Clinton taking human form just long enough to show up in Iowa, or the Bush Administration spinning like an Indonesian airliner as it tried to dodge the Scooter Libby debacle. Nonetheless, a euthanized horse led the pack this week. We’re speechless. We’re pretty sure Mr. Ed would be, too.
Herewith, the departed.
• Barbaro
Famous horse. 3. After winning the Kentucky Derby in 2006, Babaro splintered his leg while running the Preakness. Most horses are put down immediately after breaking their legs (even with surgery, their skittish nature makes recovery from such injuries almost unbearable for the horse), but Barbaro’s owners spent more money to save him than most insurance companies spend on cancer patients. People from around the world sent flowers and notes, perhaps thinking their kind thoughts would cheer Barbaro up as he read them from his hospital bed. The New York Times described the announcement of his death as “an emotional news conference.” Look, maybe we’re naïve here at the CDT™, but we’re pretty sure that Barbaro was only a horse. A three year old horse. Nothing more. Couldn’t read, write, or talk. Get a clue, folks. Even Satan doesn’t bother to get involved with creatures at this lowly level of the mammalian hierarchy.
• E. Howard Hunt
Watergate conspirator. 88. Everette Hunt was Tricky Dick’s tricky dick: a dirty tricks guy and former CIA spy who ended up spending 33 months in the slammer for his role in orchestrating the Watergate break-in. Hunt had had a long career as a spy novelist and a bumbling spy, having been involved in the failed Bay of Pigs invasion during the Kennedy administration. After he set up the burglaries at the Watergate Hotel, his name and phone number were found in the pocket of one of the burglars. That little piece of info led to the entire unraveling of Nixon’s presidency. Nice going, Double-Oh-Seven. FYI, Hunt’s passing merited a mere 100 words more in The New York Times than Barbaro’s obit. And it’s worth noting that old Watergate-era guys have been going down faster than Steve Irwin in a tank full of stingrays.
• Fr. Robert Drinan
Priest and congressman. 86. Drinan achieved national fame by getting elected to the House of Representatives by the voters of Massachusetts, the first priest voted into U.S. office in over a hundred years. Despite warnings from the Vatican, Drinan ran for Congress in 1970 believing that public service was part of his calling (many other Boston priests from the same era apparently misinterpreted this calling as “pubic” service). Drinan, a Jesuit who spoke out against the Vietnam war and the draft, was the first politician to call for the impeachment of Richard Nixon. He served for 10 years until Pope John Paul II pulled the plug on all priests holding public office. BTW, Drinan’s obit in The New York Times was 800 words less than Barbaro’s.
RIP, one and all.
California Dreamsicles
There’s something about the bone-rattling chill of a winter day that makes you wish for a much warmer and more comfortable place to live. Like, say, Southern California. Or more specifically, Hollywood. That is, until you realize that Hollywood is home to more members of the living dead than Hillary Clinton’s bedroom.
But this week the allure of Hollywood permeates our Celebrity Death Trio™ like a bouquet of embalming fluid. Not that we have a phalanx of big-time actors auditioning for their Final Act, but each of our celebs has a unique connection to the land of dreams and cuddly casting couches. They’ve each given some memorable performances, but now their respective curtains have come crashing down. And for that, we give them one last round of applause as they make their way towards Beelzebub’s Backstage Bar, where the drinks are always chilled and so are the patrons.
Herewith, the departed.
• Art Buchwald
Humorist. 81. Once upon a time, back in the 50s and 60s, Art was the most popular writer in America, a syndicated columnist who won the Pulitzer Prize and was syndicated in 500 papers around the world. Today, he might best be remembered for successfully suing a major motion picture studio---Paramount---for stealing his ideas when he claimed to have written the original treatment for Eddie Murphy’s last starring vehicle “Coming To America.” Paramount was found guilty but tried to welsh on the verdict saying that although the film made over $350 million, it had “never turned a profit.” The lawsuit became a landmark exposing Hollywood hypocrisy, and Art was finally paid a few million dollars for his creative time and efforts. At the end of his life, Buchwald went out like a champ, refusing dialysis even though his doctors gave him only weeks to live. He lived for another year. Maybe laughter is the best medicine after all.
• Denny Doherty
Musician. 66. For a long time, way back in the 60s, The Mamas & The Papas epitomized the lure of California as a place where dreams could come true. “Monday, Monday” and “California Dreamin’” were the quintessential happy-yet-angst-ridden folk-pop songs that got the first hippies through the day. This was, of course, before the Eagles effectively bastardized the notion with Hotel California, but that’s another set of celebrity deaths waiting to happen. Doherty was the least well known of the groovy foursome, whose ranks included Mama Cass Elliott (deceased), Papa John Phillips (deceased), and Mama Michelle Phillips (not yet deceased), yet he was the lead singer. As the band made its way into history books and “whatever happened to . . .?” compilations, Doherty embarked on a new career as an actor. He enjoyed quite a bit of success later in life as the Harbor Master on Canada’s wildly popular “Theodore Tugboat” kiddie show (think Thomas The Train Engine with characters that say “eh?”).
• Ron Carey
Actor. 71. Most people remember Carey as the pint-sized actor who starred on Barney Miller as Officer Carl Levitt, the bulldog-slash-mascot of the 12th Precinct. But to the CDT™, he will always be Mel Brooks’ assistant, Brophy, in High Anxiety. His claims of “I got it, I got it, I got it . . . I ain’t got it” epitomized Carey’s understated slapstick approach to physical comedy. He was a regular in Brooks’ comedies as well as in TV sitcoms and commercials. All we can say is: you’ve gone on to something bigger, Brophy . . . bigger.
RIP, one and all.
Munster Mash
It’s more than six feet deep into January 2007, and Mother Nature still can’t decide whether it’s winter or spring. With temperatures soaring past the 70 degree mark on the East Coast, even the ski slopes were pushing up daisies this past week. But the chill of frozen ground is never quite far away when you consider that celebrities don’t die according to the Farmer’s Almanac or any kind of seed planting schedule---except when the local funeral home is doing the planting.
The worlds of cinema and philanthropy gave up the ghosts---three of them---that are the newest members the Celebrity Death Trio’s™ fraternity of fertilized fame. We’ve got a couple of classic names, a classic beauty, and a generous class act. A nice gathering of souls, if you will. So raise your glass, say adieu, and wave farewell to the CDT’s newly minted mound of mortician’s mulch. They were each groundbreaking in their own way, and still are.
Herewith, the departed.
Yvonne DeCarlo.
Lily Munster. 84. Yes, we all loved Yvonne as the sensible vampiric foil to Herman and Grandpa, and that’s where she earned most of her fame. Yet Yvonne was a busy actress well before the Munsters aired in 1964 and was considered one of the great beauties and femme fatales of the 1940s and 50s. She counted Howard Hughes, Errol Flynn and Burt Lancaster among her conquests and was billed in “Salome, Where She Danced” as “the most beautiful girl in the world.” She had more than 100 screen appearances, including roles in major films such as “For Whom The Bell Tolls” and “The Ten Commandments,” in which she played wife to Charlton Heston’s Moses. Interesting trivia fact for CDT aficionados: In real life, DeCarlo was actually a year older than Al Lewis, who played Grandpa on The Munsters (and joined us on the CDT Honor Roll almost exactly a year ago). Hopefully, Lily’s gone to a better place . . . and we don’t mean reruns on TV Land.
Carlo Ponti.
Movie director and famous husband. 94. Ponti was one of Italy’s greatest film directors, but for most of his long life the world knew him as “the guy married to Sophia Loren.” He was already an established director when he wed Loren, who was more than 20 years younger and about a foot taller than Ponti. Trouble was that he was already married and had to get a Mexican divorce to make his union with Loren legal—which, from our perspective, was probably worth every penny. He produced or directed some of the early epics of international cinema, including “Dr. Zhivago,” “The Great Day,” and “War And Peace.” Known for his commitment to making good cinema no matter the cost, his most famous line was “I don’t make deals, I make pictures.” We’re guessing that the Devil would have to agree.
Larry Stewart.
Secret Santa. 58. Two months ago no one outside of Kansas City knew who this guy was. But once it was revealed that Larry had given $1.3 million of his own money anonymously to needy people in and around his hometown, the media made him a star overnight. And for once, the media got it right. Stewart gained fame for doing something notable and selflessly. And while he gave cash to various charities—he made a small fortune in the cable TV business—he regularly opted to hand out hundred dollar bills surreptitiously to people he’d encounter on the street or in restaurants. To our minds, Larry is a guy who doesn’t even have to stop for gas in Purgatory on his one-way trek to St. Peter’s Bar & Grille.
RIP, one and all.
Icon Incineration
After a New Year’s blast that left the Celebrity Death Trio™ staff trying to catch its breath and twisting in the wind, it’s nice to sit back and take stock of things. 2006 was a big year, and the number of CDTs made us realize that none of us is getting any younger, most certainly not any of our iconic celebrities. Think about it: Paul Newman’s about to turn 82, Doris Day is 82, Mickey Rooney is 86, and Johnny Carson’s almost . . . Wait a second. Johnny’s dead. Okay, so you see where we’re going with this. The point is that there are lots of celebrities who helped define celebrity in the last century who are lining up to cash their checks. We’re pretty sure the celebrity morgue this year is going to look like a downtown EZ-Cash center on payday.
That’s something to consider as this young year kicks up its heels. But death doesn’t stop to ponder intellectual issues for long, so it’s time to dive head first into the shallow end and get back to work. Our initial list of three headed to Hades this week consisted of the three children confirmed to have committed suicide in the wake of seeing Saddam Hussein do the choked chicken dance on TV. However, that’s a morbid way to start off 2007, even for us. Let’s look at something a little more uplifting in the Death Department, shall we?
Three high-profile bureaucrats checked out of their offices for good this past week. In each case, the career-killing move came from out of the blue, as if each of the participants had been suddenly tempted, childlike, to imitate Saddam Hussein’s choked chicken, er . . . uh, nevermind.
Herewith, the departed.
• John Negroponte
Former U.S. National Intelligence Director. Negroponte bit the Bush bullet and now he has to go over to the State Department to play Number Two to Condoleeza Rice’s Number One. What that means is up for question, but he is leaving a cabinet-level position to take a job where he essentially handles the things that Condi doesn’t want to be bothered with. It’s an interesting career choice for a man that was once the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations.
• Stanislaw Wielgus
Almost the brand spanking new Archbishop of Poland. Bishop Wielgus was one hour away from taking over as head of the Catholic Church in Poland when he realized that he’d forgotten to take “stooge for the Communist secret police” off of his resumé. We’re wondering if that really bothered Pope Benedict, who had been supportive of Wielgus as evidence about his long ago agreement to spy on fellow citizens arose last month. Despite the fact that the Polish secret police mercilessly beat and killed priests during the Cold War, Wielgus claimed to have done nothing wrong. Former Polish archbishop Karol Wojtyla---that’s Pope John Paul II to you---who helped bring about an end to Communism in Poland, is surely spinning in his grave.
• Danial Akhmetov
Former prime minister of Kazakhstan. Akhmetov resigned without explanation, and was quickly succeeded by his longtime rival, Karim Masimov. The CDT knows very little about Kazakhstan---we even had to look it up three times to make sure we spelled it correctly---but we’re wondering if the movie “Borat” and its portrayal of the Kazakhstanis as lovers of wine made from horse urine didn’t help speed up Akhmetov’s departure. And this isn’t the last you’re going to hear about Kazakhstan this year. The country is as big as all of Western Europe combined and has nearly fiver percent of the world’s oil reserve. You like?
RIP, one and all.
Auld Lang's Dyin'
There are some years that exit with such a big bang you can only sit back and watch in amazement as it happens. That was the feeling at our Celebrity Death Trio™ “End Of 2006 Purgatory Party,” which was held this past weekend, as always, at the local morgue. While doing the zombie stomp and monster mash underneath the dried-out mistletoe and black-light Christmas tree, we have to admit we were left speechless at the tremendous trio the Grim Reaper stuffed in our stockings as the bells tolled the demise of another year.
The CDT that closed out 2006 may well go down in history as one of the great all-time threesomes. It's certainly right up there with The Three Musketeers, The Three Little Pigs, The Three Amigos, The Three Billy Goats Gruff, Goldilocks and The Three Bears, and The Three Stooges. Not to mention Three's Company. Each of our brand spanking new holiday haunts had the clout to carry the obituary headlines on their own. Yet in the spirit of famous people dying in threes, they sacrificed themselves to the greater good and coordinated their celestial sleepover schedules to make it happen. So in their honor, we at the CDT lift our champagne glasses and sing a chorus of “Auld Lang Dyin'.” Or some other cheery holiday song.
Happy New Year, and herewith the departed.
Saddam Hussein.
Dictator and international thug. 69. After a long history of murdering people he didn't like, Saddam finally got a generous dose of his own medicine. Having been convicted of crimes against humanity, he was fitted with a custom-made “necrophiliac's necktie” and swung his way to the great beyond. The list of this psychopath's offenses are too numerous to list here; suffice it to say that not even his daughters are going to miss him. You can bet gallows humor is going to be all the rage in Iraq for months to come. In the “every cloud has a silver lining” department, Saddam's execution gives the U.S. at least one thing to feel good about after years of immersion in a war that has become a sand-based version of Vietnam.
James Brown.
Musician. 73. The Godfather of Soul. Mr. Funk. The Sex Machine. The Minister of Super Heavy Funk. Soul Brother Number One. The Hardest Working Man In Show Business. Mr. Dynamite. It's hard to add to this list of who---and what-James Brown was. The man introduced the world to funk, and changed popular music in the process. Sure, he spent a lot of time in and out of jail, and always hooked up with the wrong women. But that never got in the way of making music. He was even scheduling his next concert from his hospital bed when he died. Here's an example of the man's influence: Anytime you wanna get down and get funky, you're kneeling at the altar of James Brown.
Gerald Ford.
U.S. President. 93. Ford may have been the most reluctant president in the history of the U.S. Due to that weird rule of presidential succession you learned about in junior high, he went from Speaker of the House to Vice President (when Spiro Agnew resigned) to President of the United States (when Tricky Dick resigned during Watergate). Many of us remember Ford for one of two things: pardoning Nixon, and the pratfalls that Saturday Night Live made fun of. In the end, the last laugh was his. He managed to be the oldest living ex-president in history and his career lasted a lot longer than Chevy Chase's. By the way, when Ford's wife Betty went into treatment for her alcoholism, she created the culture of celebrity rehab that now pervades society. History will remember him more fondly than voters ever did.
RIP, one and all.