Okay, we made it through the holidays. I love Thanksgiving, Christmas and the New Year but as I get older, I view them more like an athletic competition – can I get it all done? Another year I was able to make the grade so it’s on to 2024.
The woman who graduated from Stanford Law School (an institution, by the way, that probably wouldn’t even let me walk the halls as a visitor) and could only get a job as a secretary at a law firm, and who persevered to become a Justice on the U.S. Supreme Court, Sandra Day O’Connor, died at 88. Clearly a woman who knew something about ceilings, glass or otherwise, but paid no attention to them. Given that she often found herself the swing-vote on many a critical issue affecting the Country, she could be said to have been the most powerful woman in America for a long while. While a Republican, and appointed to the Supreme Court by Ronald Reagan, given her successor, Sam Alito, she looked down-right liberal or at least centrist. She was a tough woman, made so by growing up on a 2,000-acre ranch. One day it was her job to bring lunch to the ranch hands who were branding cattle. The truck she was driving got a flat and she spent the better part of an hour trying to get the rusted lug nuts to spin, which she did. She changed the tire and got lunch to the workers. Her father asked why she was so late and she proudly explained what she had gone through. Unimpressed, her father told her late was late and she should have thought about what could happen and left earlier. It was a lesson she would internalize and never forget. Later in life, when she had breast cancer and was going through chemotherapy, she never missed a day at work, only years later recounting how tough it was on her.
Her father had wanted to attend Stanford but could not because of his own father’s early death and having to take over the running of the ranch. He made sure he prodded his daughter to attend, which she did – at age 16. She completed undergrad and then completed Stanford Law in two years. While in law school she dated William Rehnquist who eventually proposed to her, but it was too late as she was then dating someone else, John O’Connor, whom she married. Unable to get a job at a law firm, she started her own practice and went into local politics, eventually being elected to the Arizona Senate and to a position as a Judge. She was appointed by the Arizona Governor to the Arizona Appellate Court and from there went to the Supremes. Although she seemed staid, she had a good sense of humor about herself. In 1985 she found herself at People Magazine’s Salute to Congress, seated next to a rather inebriated John Riggins, a running back for the Washinton Redskins (not Commanders) (although I will always remember him as a Jet). Riggins, who had been drinking all day, knocked over a few wine bottles at the table and then said to the Justice, “C’mon Sandy baby, loosen up. You’re too tight.” The Justice took it in stride and joked about it a few days later at a speech at Pepperdine University. When Riggins, who took up acting after football and performed in a play, she attended and presented him with a dozen roses. That’s a good sport. We should have expected nothing else from a woman who was inducted into the National Cowgirl Museum and Hall of Fame in Ft. Worth, Texas. What a full life.
Norman Lear who broke all the norms regarding television sitcoms, and brought us Archie Bunker, died at 101. He literally changed television which before him was totally non-confrontational. He brought us in-your-face television. Working off of the English sitcom “Until Death Do Us Part,” he created “All In the Family” and make the Country face its prejudices. Sure, Archie Bunker was over-the-top, but what white guy didn’t have a little Archie in him? It spawned dialogue. Not like today where anyone is afraid to say anything controversial because they will be cancelled. People Like Archie, George Jefferson and Fred Sanford caused us to think about prejudice while characters like Maude made us confront topics such as alcoholism and abortion. What was great about the shows was they made people of different belief sets talk about the situations presented. Today, we stand our ground and ignore dialogue which is why when Lear turned 100 he told a reporter that he thought he was in better shape than our democracy. There were lesser-known shows that he brought to television that I loved. “Mary Hartman-Mary Hartman,” was one of his more overlooked gems as was the spin-off from that, “Fernwood Tonight,” starring Martin Mull. His production company, Avco Embassy Productions, was responsible for my favorite film (and as you know, I’m not a film guy) “This Is Spinal Tap.” He won every award imaginable for television and was a Kennedy Award recipient, refusing to attend the ceremony after the event because it was hosted by President Trump. His politics were way left but that was a point of intersection for us. Guys like us we had it made. Those were the days.
The guy whose mother loved his brother more than him, Tommy Smothers, died at 86. As one half of the comedic folk duo the Smothers Brothers, Tom was the comedic one with his brother playing the Bud Abbott, straight man (along with the stand-up bass). They were the sons of a West Point grad and Army Major who made it through the Bataan Death March only to be killed by friendly fire when pilots bombed a prison ship that was transporting him. Tom and Dick Smothers started a folk group in college with a third person who did not last long. The at-first serious group soon devolved into a comedy routine when Tommy seemed never to be able to get through a tune without straying from the correct lyrics and making stuff up to the consternation of his brother. When confronted, he would stammer his way through an explanation that would generally end with Tommy exasperatingly proclaiming that “mom always liked you best.” They would then begin anew until Tommy charmingly pulled another gaffe and they would devolve into another fight, and so on. Tommy was always the screwup but lovably so. He was also the more serious of the two down deep with more liberal political views than his brother. Eventually, their act came to the attention of CBS executives who signed them to a variety show and gave them creative control. The show aired in 1967 and coincided with young people’s disenchantment with the war in Vietnam. Tommy brought in a group of talented and irreverent writers that included Steve Martin, Pat Paulson, Rob Reiner, and Mason Williams (he of “Classical Gas” fame). The show was constantly making anti-war statements and slipping bits by the censors that would enrage the Right as well as the network brass. It became a constant battle between Tommy, the more vocal of the two, and the CBS censors. As is generally the case, the wonky suits got their way, and the show was cancelled in April of 1969. Both the brothers had made their mark, though. Tom always believed it was Nixon who got them fired and that had Hubert Humphry been elected, the show would have gone on. Given Nixon, it is not a far-fetched theory. The brothers would occasionally wind up as a summer replacement show here and there and were often guests on late night television. Tommy Smothers was also part of John and Yoko’s bed-in in Montreal in 1969 and played guitar on “Give Peace a Chance.” Perhaps recalling Tommy’s penchant for ruining songs, Lennon yelled over to him, “just play it the way I wrote it, Tommy. If I wanted you to play it another way, I would have written it like that.” Oh, how I would have loved to have had John Lennon yell at me.
Laura Lynch, who was an original member of the Dixie Chicks (now just the Chicks) died at 65. She started the band, which would go on to be one of the top Country acts in history, in 1989 with Robin Lynn Macy and sisters Emily Strayer and Martie Maguire. After two albums and no real success, they kicked her out, replacing her with Natalie Maines. It was Maines who famously, or infamously, said from the stage one evening that the band was embarrassed “that the President of the United States was from Texas.” In Country circles, which tended to lean heavily patriotic after the 9/11 attacks, the remarks went over like a fart in church. Country stations stopped playing their music, they lost corporate sponsorships and attendance at their concerts went way down. Maines apologized for her remarks a few days later although she later rescinded the apology. Anyway, back to Ms. Lynch, she went to work for the University of Texas as a public relations officer, took up painting and raised her daughter. Not a bad way to live out life.
Ryan O’Neill, best known for either his role in “Love Story,” opposite Ali McGraw, or his long standing, on-again-off-again relationship with Farrah Fawcett, died at 82. O’Neill, possessed of great looks, but little acting chops, was a regular on the soap opera Peyton Place. When they were casting the part for “Love Story,” John Voight turned the part down and Beau Bridges was slated to do it. Ali McGraw, however, pressed the producers for O’Neill who ultimately got the part which netted him his only Oscar nomination. He did a lot of movies thereafter including “What’s Up Doc” with Barbara Streisand, “Nickelodeon” with Burt Reynolds and “Paper Moon,” with his daughter Tatum. That movie netted Tatum, but not her dad, an Oscar. O’Neill had quite a temper which often got him into hot water, but his good looks continued to get him parts and the likes of Farrah Fawcett who he started dating while she was still with Lee Majors. The two never married but were in and out of the relationship for about 20 years. He was with her during her battle with cancer. A consummate womanizer (I write this out of jealousy) he had affairs with Ursella Andress, Bianca Jagger, Jacqueline Bisset, Barbara Streisand, Joan Collins, Diana Ross, Angelica Houston, and Melanie Griffith. How he had time to act is beyond me.
Denny Laine, a guitarist and founding member of the Moody Blues, who was drafted by Paul McCartney for his post-Beatles project, Wings, died at 79. Although only with the Moody Blues for one album (creative differences) he sang the lead on “Go Now,” which really launched the band. In Wings, he co-wrote “Mull of Kintyre” which was a huge hit in Britain and a big song at the First Avenue bar, Flanagan’s, where I spent a few evenings. He also played with Ginger Baker’s Airforce and put out a boatload of solo albums. He was inducted into the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame, which I only bring up because lately people have been bashing it mercilessly, which I love. Cher, not someone who I would induct if I was on their side (For “Half Breed”?), said they could stick the award where the sun doesn’t shine. Chrissie Hynde, who has less credibility here because she accepted her induction (claiming it was to appease her mother), recently said that she hates the place. “I Don’t even wanna be associated with it. It’s just more establishment backslapping. I got into a band so I didn’t have to be part of that.” That’s the spirit. Early adopters of the I-hate-the-Hall-of-Fame-club were the Sex Pistols who wrote to say that the Hall was a “piss stain.” I agree. Anyway, I digress. Back to Mr. Laine. He was a musician who loved to play regardless of the venue. He was someone who made a living playing huge arena shows with Wings but recently could be seen occasionally sitting in with a local Long Island bar band (a great one at that) Wonderous Stories, playing for a few hundred people. He just got off playing and you have to love that.
Ken MacKenzie, the only pitcher on the 1962 Mets to have a winning record, died this month at 89. A lefty, he appeared in 41 games as a reliever. He had a 4.94 ERA and his record was 5-4. On a team that won only 40 wins against 120 losses, only he had a winning record. The 120 losses were the worst in baseball’s modern era, bested only by the Cleveland Spiders who went 22 and 134 in 1899. MacKenzie played college ball for Yale where he was the captain of the team. He was also second team all-Ivy in hockey. When he was signed by the Mets, their endearing Manager, Casey Stengal, noted that it made him ”the lowest paid member of the class of Yale ’56.” According to the New York Times, there are only nine players from the 62 Mets still living. Hopefully I won’t have to write about them any time soon.
Cale Yarborough, of NASCAR racing royalty, has started his last engine, at 84. He won the Daytona 500 four times, bested only by Richard Petty, who won it seven. Yarborough’s most famous Daytona race, however, was one he didn’t win. He was duking it out with Donnie Allison, also from a vaunted racing family, on the track and they were bumping each other at speeds of well over 100 MPH. At one point, Cale bumped Donnie who hit his brother Bobby knocking him out of the race. Cale and Donnie kept at it and in the last lap, Cale tried to pass Donnie on the inside and Donnie went low to try and block him and caught his bumper. They both then went out of control and hit the wall and careened into the infield. Bobby Allison came to check on his brother. Mind you, he had been stewing for some 160 laps about what Cale did to Donnie that caused him to crash out of the race. Bobby and Yarborough came to blows with Bobbie saying that Cale’s nose kept crashing into his fist. It was all caught on national television and because there had been a big snowstorm in the northeast, the television audience was much larger than it had ever been for a NASCAR race. It was really the moment that put NASCAR on the map. Mind you, Cale and Donnie patched things up the next day and went on racing. Yarborough almost didn’t go into racing at all. He was a great football player in high school and got a scholarship to Clemson. At the start of school, he told the coach he would have to miss a bit of the semester to race in a NASCA R event. The coach, Frank Howard (who coached the Tigers for 30 years), told him that if he was late, he should just pack his clothes and go. It was either football or car racing, Howard told him. Yarborough chose racing even though Howard said he would “starve to death,” as a race driver. With winnings of over $5 million, not counting endorsements, that’s not a bad way to starve. Yarborough was inducted into the NASCAR and Motorsports Halls of Fame. Go Speed Racer, go.
Shecky Greene, who probably didn’t want to get with 2024 taxes, died on New Year’s Eve at 97. One of the last of a breed of comic that is soon to be extinct, Greene made 40 appearances on the Tonight Show, once had Elvis open for him in Vegas for a week and made, by his own account, “more money than God (he claimed that God only made $30,00 per year). His act was not one-liners but had to be seen in full to be truly enjoyed. Pat Cooper said that he once climbed the curtain at a club and did twenty minutes perched at the top. “He destroyed an audience,” Cooper said. Greene suffered from undiagnosed bi-polar disorder which manifested itself in a tumultuous personal life that included drinking, drugs, and gambling. “I should have ben fired 150 times in Vegas,” he once quipped to the las Vegas Sun. “I only got fired 130.” One night, in 1968, when the Ceasar’s Palace fountain was new (and popular as Evil Knievel had recently jumped over it on his motorcycle), an inebriated Greene bounced his Oldsmobile of a breakaway lamp post and landed in the fountain. The way he told the story, he put on the windshield wipers and waited for the police to arrive. When they did, he calmly told them “no spray wax please,” although he later admitted that statement was not made, but given to him by Buddy Hackett to put in his act. As a big gambler, Green had a horse named after him that ran in the Kentucky derby but lost to Secretariat. When Grene first met the horse, it bit him. When in college he wanted to be a gym teacher. Maybe it is that those who can’t teach gym become comedians.
Gaston Glock, the person who invented the handgun that bears his name, died at a. I am no fan of guns, and handguns in particular, but you have to hand it to the guy. He invented a simple gun that, unlike its Smith & Wesson competitor, did not look especially nice, but was cheap, easy to make and like the Kalashnikov rifle, is reliable. It has become the gun of choice for police departments around the world. Like any weapon, it has also been used by villains to murder innocents, but its percentage of use by criminals is lower than other weapons, possibly due to the fact that it is not a glamourous looking weapon. Mr. Glock managed a car radiator factory and had a side hustle of making curtain rods and door hinges. When he heard some army people complaining about their present weaponry and mentioning an upcoming military contract for handguns, he thought he could build the better mousetrap, er pistol. He built a boxy, inelegant weapon that was lightweight, capable of shooting 18 rounds and reloading quickly. The weapon made him a billionaire. He was a reclusive guy who never sought the headlines. He occasionally got some, though, like when at 83, he divorced his wife to marry a 32 year old woman who was his nurse when he had a stroke. The divorce proceedings were bitter ad involved millions of dollars and control of the company. Another time, a business associate tried to have him killed and he beat his assailant into unconsciousness. To all you gun control advocates (kind of like me), note that he didn’t shoot the guy.
Bob Pardo, a daring F-4Phantom pilot during the Vietnam war, died this month at 89. On a mission over enemy territory, his and another plane were hit by anti-aircraft fire. His plane had real damage and was leaking fuel but the other plane was hit worse and it was hemorrhaging fuel much faster. Both planes peeled off, heading back over enemy lines. The other plane, though, was not going to make it and the crew of two were going to have to bail out and parachute to the ground in enemy territory where they would have undoubtedly been taken prisoner. Recalling that his dad had always told him that when your friends need help, “you help,” Pardo maneuvered his aircraft under the ailing plane and had it lower its tailhook which Pardo then maneuvered to the front of his windshield and, in what became known as the “Pardo Push,” literally pushed the plane over into Laos where the crews from both planes bailed out and were rescued. The problem for the Airforce was that Pardo had wrecked his plane and the bean counters, who apparently cared little for human life or the amazing rescue that had occurred, were not happy. These bean counters were probably the same ones who approved the purchases of ash trays by the Air Force for thousands of dollars years later. Anyway, Pardo’s heroic act went unheralded until 1989 when he was awarded the Silver Star for Gallantry. For Pardo, the decision to do what he did was easy. “I couldn’t have come home and told my dad I didn’t even try anything. Because that is exactly what he would have asked me. He would have said ‘did you try?’ So I had to be able to answer that with a ‘yes.’” Awesome.
And awesome is how I hope your 2024 will be.