Happy Halloween. Never been much for the holiday myself but I do love a good Snickers bar. The guy (or gal) who came up with that bad-boy deserves a Nobel prize. Not worth dressing up as somebody else for, but I’ll steal someone’s leftover Snickers and be happy. November is upon us and as much as I love the colors, I see the Fall beauty as the harbinger of winter which I dislike more and more each year. It’s not really that I don’t like it as much as I prefer going to it rather than having it come to me. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, though, because it doesn’t involve religion or gifts and permits families to come together and argue about Trump. What did we get all crazy about at family gatherings before him? In any event, better to talk of the dead than those some just wish it for. On with the show. This one is on the long side.
Suzanne Somers, who starred as Chrissy Snow in Three’s Company, died at 76. She played a ditzy blond but was hardly that. She once told the New York Times, “I’ve been playing what I think is one of the best dumb blondes that’s ever been done but I never got any credit. I did it so well that everyone thought I was a dumb blond.” She demanded of ABC that she be paid as much as the male star, John Ritter. The network fired her. That would not happen today but then again, many things in her career wouldn’t happen today. For instance, Ms. Somers was immediately recognized when she got to Hollywood. Johnny Carson and his producer Fred deCordova, saw her in the NBC commissary one week after her arrival in the City and booked her for the show. A quick watch makes it clear why they had her on. The show would be cancelled for such overt sexism today but it certainly helped her career back then. She had been the “mystery blond” in American Graffiti,” so she was not without some resume. It was the Carson appearance, however, that got her the audition for “Three’s Company” and more than 10 million ThighMasters later, we are all the beneficiaries of her work. With her husband, she launched one of the most successful infomercial products, permitting you to “squeeze, squeeze, squeeze your way to shapely hips and thighs.” The problem with the ThighMaster was that it wouldn’t make you look like Somers which is what I suspect most people hoped to do with their $30 purchase. Aside from ThighMaster, Somers pitched a boatload of products on the Home Shopping Network. She also appeared in movies and kept herself busy. She authored some 25 books, mostly on health, beauty, and aging. She once told the Times, that “a sexy person is a healthy person.” That must be why I’m falling apart.
When I was a kid, we played touch football in the street or sometimes tackle on the front lawn of the Clarke Forklift Company which had a three foot wide cement walkway which we used as the 50 yard-line on an otherwise nice lawn. Needless to say, there were a lot of great second-efforts so as not to be brought down on the 50. Back then we played the game more than we watched it so we didn’t know too many players. There were some names we knew, however. Unitas, Y.A. Tittle, Ray Nitschke and Dick Butkus. I didn’t really know who these guys were but I knew they were great at what they did and Butkus was great at defense. Thus, as a kid, when playing defense, Nitschke or Butkus were the men - especially Butkus if only because his name was easier to say. Butkus died this month at 80. In a league full of bad-asses, he was the bad assest, bad-ass. Take that Kelly. At 6’3” and weighing in at 245, he would be small by today’s standards but he was a giant when he played. In college (Illinois) he was the Most Valuable Player in the Big Ten Conference in 1963 and led the Illini to a Rose Bowl win. In 1964 he was college football’s lineman of the year. He was the third overall draft pick going to the Chicago Bears, the city of his birth. As a Bear, Butkus was a first-team All-Pro five times and a Pro-bowler, eight. He was elected into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in his first year of eligibility which is pretty amazing given that he was surly with reporters all his career. During the years he played for the Bears (1965 – 1973), who were sadly about as good as they are now, he recovered 27 fumbles and intercepted 22 passes. They did not keep sack records back then but his numbers there would have been enormous. Butkus, who married his high school sweetheart and stayed married to her, sued the Bears toward the end of his career claiming that the team did not provide him with proper medical care which shortened his career and left irreparable damage to his knee. The team and he settled for his being paid for the last four years of his five year contract which meant $115,000 per year back then, about what Tom Brady used to get for putting on his shoes before the game. After football, Butkus took acting lessons and headed for Hollywood where he appeared in a long string of unmemorable movies that left him off the Oscar stage. He also settled his rift with the Bears and became a color commentator. For all his Hollywood success, though, it was on the gridiron for which he will be best remembered. Deacon Jones summed up Butkus, the football player, best, stating: “Dick was an animal. I called him a maniac. A stone maniac. He was a well-conditioned animal and every time he hit you, he tried to put you in the cemetery, not the hospital.” I wish I could be remembered like that.
And speaking of big guys for their time, we lost Frank Howard at 87. Howard was a giant of a man who could hit the ball as far as anyone. At six foot seven and 255 pounds he may have been able to kick even Dick Butkus’ ass and that’s saying something. Even if he couldn’t, he could hit the baseball a ton which is what he did when he played for the L.A. Dodgers, and Washington Senators, back when they named the team for a bunch of overly self-important do-nothings who today can’t get out of their own way. I digress. Nicknamed Hondo (after a John Wayne character) he also managed the Mets in 1983 for 116 games. Howard, not only hit towering homers (he once hit 13 in 16 games, a record that still stands), but perhaps being the prototype for today’s sluggers, he also struck out with regularity. When he hit them, they flew. He once batted a ball in Pittsburgh’s Forbes Field that was found in the parking lot, 560 feet from the plate. Although drafted into the NBA (he played round ball at Ohio State) he chose baseball as a career. He was the Rookie of the Year in 1960 for the National League, twice led the American League in home runs, and was named to the All-Star team in four consecutive years. In one of his more memorable non-homers, he hit a ball about 460 feet in Yankee Stadium that landed just to the left of Monument Park. He could only hoof out a double. With that speed, I might have been able to play in the bigs.
Joe Christopher, one of the original Amazin’ Mets, died at 88. Christopher came to the Mets in the expansion draft after playing three years with the Pittsburgh Pirates. Christopher didn’t have much of an impact on the team until its first year at Shea Stadium, in 1964, when he batted three hundred for a team that lost 109 games, a tad more than they lost this year but having essentially the same result – the cellar. Christopher was the person in the middle of the yo la Tengo situation that spawned a rock band fronted by a Met’s fan. Christopher played in between Elio Chicon the Venezuelan shortstop who spoke no English, and Richie Ashburn, the center fielder who spoke no Spanish. Ashburn asked Christopher, who was born in St. Croix and spoke Spanish, how to say “I got it” in Spanish, to which Christopher said was yo la tengo. In the next game there was a shallow fly ball hit and Ashburn came running in yelling yo la tengo. Chacon backed off but the left fielder, Frank Thomas, who knew no Spanish and apparently hadn’t been schooled by Christopher, didn’t know what the heck Ashburn was yelling and flattened him as the ball fell between them. Thomas got himself up and said to Ashburn, What the heck is yellow tango? Only the Mets.
Burt Young, who was best known for his appearances as Paulie, in the “Rocky” movies, died at 83. Burt was the only actor in the movie that did not audition for the part and claimed that Stallone begged him to play the role of his brother-in-law in the films. Rocky, however, was not all he did, having appeared in some 160 movie and television roles. Perhaps his Rocky part was so good because he was, in his Carona Queens youth (he attended Bryant High in Astoria for a time before getting booted), a marine and professional boxer who worked under Cuz D’Amato and had a 17-1 record. He was a carpet installer when he met a woman who told him she wanted to study acting under Lee Strasburg. Thinking Lee Strasburg was a woman, Young made an appointment for the three to talk. He wound up studying with the great acting coach for two years. In addition to his movie and television roles, Mr. Young did lots of theatre and was a painter whose work can be seen here: https://bilottagallery.com/product-category/burt-young/. He did make an appearance in the Sopranos. He played a lot of criminal types, once saying in an interview that “I come from that life. To this day, two of my best friends are doing 100 years.” Mr. Young, however, has been set free.
The only Isley brother I really ever knew about was Earnest. Turns out he wasn’t an originator of the band, but was a later ad-on when the group expanded in the 70’s. The three originators were Vernon, who died at 13 when he was hit by a car riding his bike, and was replaced by another brother, Ronald; O’Kelly and Rudolph. Rudolph died this month at 84. Rudolph sang harmony to Ronald’s lead and helped write some of the group’s most popular songs such as “Shout,” “It’s Your Thing, ” and Who’s “That Lady.” He also co-wrote the anthemic “Fight the Power.” For a time in 1964, Jimi Hendrix, then still known as Jimmy James, played guitar for the group. In 1989, Rudolph left the group to enter the ministry which he long wanted to do. The death of his brother O’Kelly from a heart attack two years earlier may have affected his timeline for leaving. He released some gospel albums but none reached the heights of “Shout,” or the 18 Isley Brothers albums that rose to the Billboard Top 40, nine of which went platinum. Although from Cincinnati, the family relocated to New Jersey and, when they had a falling out with Motown records, they started their own label, T-Neck, after the New Jersey town (Teaneck), they adopted as their own. All I can say is the bands work makes me want to kick my heels up, throw my hands up, throw my head back and “Shout.”
“They say this cat Shaft is a bad mother (shut your mouth).” Well, Richard Roundtree, the man who, as Shaft, “would risk his neck for his brother man,” has left us at 81. Roundtree was much more than Shaft but that is what he is most noted for. I am not sure what was more popular, the movie, which I never saw, or the soundtrack, which was ubiquitous. The amazing thing about it for me is that is when I first heard of Isaac Hayes and I always identified him with that type of music. Then I heard Ronstadt and Aaron Neville sing “When something is Wrong with My Baby,” and realized that Hayes wrote that and was part of the Stax machine, where he wrote songs like “Soul Man,” that I was blown away. Okay, Back to Roundtree. He was born in the New York suburb of New Rochelle (where Bob and Laura Petrie lived) and was on the New Rochelle high undefeated football team, which netted him a football scholarship to Southern Illinois University. Now I know why he was “a sex machine to all chicks.” Anyway, he left college early and got involved in theatre and that led to the Shaft gig. He did three of what were known as blaxploitation films, movies written, directed and led by blacks. Samuel L. Jackson even did two Shaft movies. The original was directed by Gordon Parks and his photography raised the level of the entire film. Shaft was an important character because Roundtree, as Shaft, was successful, cocky, competent, coveted, and a winner. This is not how white Hollywood generally portrayed black characters back then. After Shaft, Rountree went on to do other movies, and tons of television. But it is Shaft that he will always be known for and why not? Who wouldn’t want to be remembered as “the cat who won’t cop out when there’s danger all about?”
The world has one less “friend” as Matthew Perry who portrayed Chandler Bing on the sitcom “Friends,” died at 54. I was never a big fan of the show beyond the stunning looks of the women, so Mr. Perry did not have a big impact (or any impact quite frankly) on my life. Perry apparently had a long career before “Friends,” a role that he snared when he was 24. He grew up largely in Canada, going to school with the Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau, and at 14 was a nationally ranked (Canada this is) tennis player. He was someone driven to be famous. In a 2002 interview with the New York Times, he talked about always wanting to be famous. “There was steam coming out of my ears I wanted to be famous so badly,” he told the paper. “You want the attention, you want the bucks and you want the best seats in the restaurant. I didn’t think what the repercussions would be.” Fame seems great until you get it and then you can’t get rid of it. It all led to a life of drugs and alcohol, rehab and relapse. According to his Wall Street Journal obit, there were “6,000 AA meetings, 55 Vicodin a day [and] 15 stays in rehab.” In his biography, “The Big Terrible Thing,” he wrote that he lived “half my life in one form or another of treatment center or sober living house.” As the theme song to the show that made him famous says: “[s]o no one told you life was going to be this way.” Very sad.
The heartbeat of New Orleans is generally set by the second-line rhythms. One of the best of the Big Easy’s funky drummers, Russell Baptiste, born into a family of New Orleans music royalty, died at 57. He played with both Harry Connick, Jr. and the band that more than any other defined funk, the Meters. He played with many New Orleans musicians and was in the Wild Magnolia’s and Dumstaphunk with Ivan Neville, another child of New Orleans musical royalty. He also formed and played in the band Vida Blue (named for the Cy Young award winning pitcher) with the keyboard player from Phish and the bassist from the Allman Brothers. Baptiste started playing out when he was six, attended college for two years, and left in order to tour with Charmaine Neville. He was the consummate sideman. His style was described in his New York Times Obit as being “like lightning and thunder all at the same time.” If you’re a drummer, that ain’t bad.
I know that Piper Laurie died this month at 91 but she really didn’t touch my life, Superman, on the other hand did; especially the television show, “The Adventures of Superman” starring George Reeves who died of a gunshot wound, questionably ruled a suicide (that’s for another day, as is the curse of those who played the role), in 1959. Who remembers the show with agent 000 minus one or the episode where he slowed down the world clock so a criminal couldn’t beat the statute of limitations, or where he crushed a piece of coal to turn it into a diamond? Great Caesar’s Ghost. I loved that show. Well, the original Lois Lane on the series, Phyllis Coates, died at 96. She was not the first person to play the role, nor is she the one you are probably most familiar with, to the extent you are familiar with the show at all. Those accolades belong to Noel Neill who died in 2016 at 95. Ms. Coates, though, originated the role on “The Adventures of Superman,” as the show’s producers chose to use Ms. Coates over Ms. Neill. After the first season of the show, however, Ms. Coates had movie commitments so Ms. Neill, who had originated the role in movie serials, was asked back. Ms. Coates started her Hollywood career as a chorus girl and ultimately made appearances in such memorable movies as “Panther Girl of the Kongo,” where she played the role of panther girl. She also made appearances in “Gunsmoke,” “Perry Mason,” and “Leave it to Beaver.” With all that said, she is most known for hanging with the guy who could leap tall buildings with a single bound.
There are those who talk the talk, and those who talk the talk and sort of walk the walk and then there are some who say nothing but walk the walk. They are the very few, special people of the world. Charles Feeney, was one of those special few. He died this month at 92. In his life, he made billions and pledged to give it all away. Others have made that claim but I haven’t seen the results. While they have certainly been incredibly generous, Feeney actually did what he said; he gave it all away (so to speak). When he died, he lived in a rented apartment and took trains and buses over planes and taxis. Rare indeed. He wasn’t exactly poverty stricken, taking $2 million for himself upon his retirement, but he was plenty philanthropic. Mr. Feeney, a Jersey guy who attended Regis High School (although he was expelled for cheating), made his fortune (about $8 Billion) in the duty free business and real estate. Not sure how he viewed Regis after they kicked him out but he apparently gave Cornell, his college, a cool billion. Another blow to the Jesuits up there on 84th Street. Cornell named him an “Icon of Industry,” and presented him a $13 Casio watch which Mr. Feeney gladly accepted saying he could always sell it on eBay if he needed money. Another of his favorite charities was Sinn Fein (he was a fried of Gerry Adams) so that rates him in my book. One man’s terrorist is another’s freedom fighter. In order to help broker the Good Friday agreements he provided funds to the Ulster Defense Association as well. After making his billions, Mr. Feeney became disenchanted with his wealth and, according to Conor O’Clery, who wrote “The Billionaire Who Wasn’t,” about Feeney, “he was beginning to have doubts about his right to have so much money.” He set up the Atlantic Philanthropies in 1982 and started transferring his wealth into it to provide donations anonymously. He probably could have had his name on hundreds of buildings but that wasn’t what he was about. According to O’Clery, “[a]ll Feeney’s instincts, instilled in him by the example of his parents, by the sharing culture of his blue-collar upbringing in New Jersey, by his desire not to distance himself from his boyhood neighbors and friends, and for his own innate kindness and concern for others, undoubtedly shaped his decision.” In an interview with Forbes Magazine (a publication Donald Trump has recently dubbed being “owned by China”), Mr. Feeney said: “I concluded that if you hung onto a piece of the action, you would always be worried about that piece.” Mr. Feeney’s philanthropic anonymity was shattered when he finally sold the Duty Free business and had to disclose where the money went (Atlantic Philanthropies) and people figured it all out. Feeny himself was influenced by Andrew Carnegie’s philanthropic ways and his 1889 essay entitled “Wealth.” His own advice to beneficent tycoons is to start giving early in life because “it’s a lot of work when you are over 65 to start a giving program.”
And finally, a little advice. When you are 104, don’t go skydiving. Dorothy Hoffner did it and died about a week later. The jump apparently went well but to me, at 104, if you want to see 105, keep your feet firmly on the ground.
Enjoy your Thanksgivings and try and keep the political talk to a minimum in order to save your ire for that one drunken uncle who always shows up and ruins the meal.
An excellent entry in the series, Charlie! We always look forward to reading The Wall. Keep up the good work!
Great job, Charlie. I had no idea about Charles Feeney. Thank you for sharing his story.