Oh, great. I watch Duckie five times a night when my grandson is visiting (it helps him settle down to sleep like nothing else…right now) and I had no idea Madeline Kahn had passed!
Mine is Jim Henson. It really didn’t even hit me until well after his death when I was reading a People magazine article about his death, and found out how preventable his death was, and saw the card that Disney sent with Mickey with his arm around the grieving Kermit. I lost it. And I still tear up a bit whenever I think of him.
When he died I was a wise ass 20 something that went “oh well, what did you expect playing around like that?” Then 10 years later I watched concert footage and broke down and cried all night because such a wonderful showman was gone.
I was also shaken by the death of Steve Irwin. He was over the top, but he was a good guy. I guess he was the kind of adventurer I wanted to be when I grew up. In a similar sense, Neil Armstrong’s death reminded me of the excitement and promise of the future he embodied when I was was young.
Another death that really hit me wasn’t a huge celebrity, but an outdoor writer by the name of Jerry Schad. Anyone from San Diego who loves the outdoors will tell you that his columns and books led them to wonderful, peaceful places and…aw, man, I’m tearing up right now.
This was the first celebrity death that hit me really hard. We were the same age, and patrons of the same little bike shop, but that was pretty much all we had in common. I didn’t realize how much influence the Beasties had on my life until he was gone.
That’s who I was going to mention. I didn’t expect his death to hit me so hard. I get misty watching their videos now.
Phil Hartman was another one. I get sad seeing Lionel Hutz or “Hi! I’m Troy McClure! You might remember me from…” in the reruns.
I was surprised at how upset I was when Ernest Borgnine died. I knew him mostly from MST3K episodes and Marty (which is an excellent movie BTW). I know he was verging on ancient, but it was still a shock.
Ronnie James Dio. I first saw him on Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert fronting Black Sabbath. 3 years later, I saw the “Rainbow in the Dark” video on the same TV in my grandparents’ living room and bought the Holy Diver cassette. Of all the metal in the 80s, Dio was my favorite, with Iron Maiden, Priest and Dokken being close seconds.
Between the release of Holy Diver and Last in Line, I back-tracked through all of his work with Sabbath and Rainbow and his music followed me through highschool graduation, breaking up with my fiance’, going on the road with bands and feeling like it was me against the world when I realized I was a National Socialist.
I drank heavily in the weeks that followed his death, listening to nothing but Sab/Rainbow/Dio the whole time.
Jerry Orbach was great at playing the wise-cracking, bawl-busting New York City policeman. He seemed like a carry-over from black-and-white film noir police/crime movies. He should have had a hat and a Lucky Strike hanging off his lip. The kinda guy you see in a fleabag motel with a bottle of rye and a typewriter doing up his Police reports. Cue the saxophone.
Not to come off as too much of a redneck, but Dale Earnhardt. And to tell the truth, I hated the guy.
I was a pretty loyal NASCAR fan, watched the races, went to the local dirt track, etc. I was watching when Earnhardt got killed, and thought oh well, he went out doing what he loved, blah, blah…
And then I lost all interest in racing. With no “bad guy” to root against, I realized how utterly boring it was, and just gave it up, and I haven’t missed it.
Andy Roddick - Despite him never hitting the level of a Sampras or Agassi, he really did end up representing the end of dominant American men’s tennis. Or at least the end of an era, to me. His retirement was surprising and it touched me quite a bit.
One that was hitting me recently is Phil Lynott of Thin Lizzy. I have been transfering a bunch of stuff from cassette and CD to digital and was reminded how much of a talent he was. Shame that he died so young and in such an avoidable way.
I was driving home from work when I heard on the radio that John Belushi had died. I nearly drove off the road. I really don’t know why it had such an effect on me. I hadn’t known about his drug use, or at least how extensive it was. I was stunned.
For anyone else, maybe, but the Crocodile Hunter gets a pass in my book!
Mine was Rory Gallagher, who seemed like a nice, down to earth person who loved playing music. For some reason it really bothered me when he passed away. It hits me when talented people who aren’t that famous die, especially when they’re young. You want people to realize their talent and mourn with you. Warren Zevon’s death didn’t bother me as much because of what David Letterman did.
Oh dear God. Did you see the special The Muppets Celebrate Jim Henson? I had to look it up just now because I couldn’t remember the exact title, and I can still recall my sister and I watching it in her tiny one-bedroom apartment, crying our eyes out.
From the linked wiki:
Haven’t thought of that in years. It was brilliant and horribly sad.
Defintely Steve Irwin. When he died, I felt as if I had lost a friend. I still miss him.
I would also say the wrestler Brian Pillman. I was a huge fan, had followed his career from his very first match in the WCW, and when his death was announced, I literally felt as if someone had punched me in the gut as hard as they could. I watched the memorial for him on the WWE (then WWF) and I have not watched wrestling since.
Freddie, for me, as well. Queen was one of the first rock acts which I really fell in love with, 30+ years ago, and I still listen to their music regularly. In recent years, as I’ve learned more about them (and Freddie), I’m even more struck by just how talented they all were, and just how much of a beautiful soul Freddie had.
