Let’s not let this turn into a “why do people get upset over people they don’t even know?” argument. Which celebs brought a tear to the eye and a skip to the heart when they cashed in? Oh, and celebs who were friends or relatives of yours don’t count . . .
• Cass Elliott was probably the first celeb death to upset me, as she was one of my favorite singers.
• Gilda Radner and Divine—both still had so much left in them, careerwise.
• Richard Amsel, one of the most talented portrait artists of the late 20th century.
• Garbo and Dietrich—both very old ladies with full lives, but I just couldn’t believe they were both gone in the space of about a year!
Hmmmmm…off the top of my head, the ones that upset me most were Jerry Garcia and Groucho Marx.
Jerry because I was looking forward to his seguing into a retirement consisting of regular CD releases of acoustic roots music. Groucho just because I liked the world better when it had Groucho Marx in it.
Most recently, George Harrison. We knew it was coming, but still . . . That day I happened to have Abbey Road going in my car CD player during a trip to town. When “Here Comes the Sun” came on, there I was bawling my eyes out at a red light.
Phil Hartman too. We named a kitten after him (but our little Phil died at 3 months. Damn. ).
Even though he hadn’t had a hit in years, and I hadn’t thought about him in years, I felt awful when I heard about John Denver’s fatal plane crash.
I guess I always associated his songs with happy times with my family. When I was a kid back in the 70s, his were the kind of songs everyone from every generation knew and liked, and could actually agree to sing together during holiday get-togethers.
So, like a lot of people, when I heard of his death, I got a little teary-eyed, then dug out my old “Back Home Again” CD and played it repeatedly. (My wife got sick of me playing it rather quickly, but so what?).
Isaac Asimov for me. I used to haunt the bookstores for a new novel or collection of essays from him. I was overjoyed on the rare occasions I would see him on television.
It’s been a decade since his death and my eyes still get misty when I think of the Good Doctor.
Jim Henson. Such a huge part of my childhood. Gone so unexpectedly young. Felt like an axe to the gut. Maybe because it wasn’t just one person dying to me. It was Jim, Kermit, Rowlf, Dr Teeth, the swedish chef, Ernie, Waldorf…
Douglas Adams, for me too. Cobain hit me hard that day, but I got over it fast.
The first celebrity death that actually caused me tears–and this surprised me greatly–was Princess Diana. I was not a “fan,” especially. But there suddenly flashed before my eyes, as it were, all the good that she would now not bring to the world. I saw her–if peripherally–as an enormous force for good in the world, and when she died I mourned that future good.
Besides her, the only other time a celebrity death made me cry–and this made me sob for days–was Jeff Buckley. He’s made one album, which was such a phenomenal masterpiece that it shot right into my lifetime top ten, and then the day before going into the recording studio to begin work on his second album, he drowned. So, like Diana, I mourned the loss of his future work, but unlike Diana, I had met Jeff; had spoken to him at length a couple times, and even had something of a crush on him. Listening to Grace, one of the best albums of the twentieth century, can still sometimes make me cry.
Ike has beat me to the punch re: Garcia. A large measure of who I am as a person is associated with the friendships I formed around his and related music; ideas, conversations, books read and discussed, and paths travelled (both physically and metaphorically) as a result of my being exposed to his talent.
What made it all the more…I don’t know…frustraing?..was the feeling that it could have been avoided some how. The band performed pretty much nonstop between 1965 and 1975, took a 19 month hiatus, and then worked from 1976 to 1995 with breaks only as the result of one or the other of Garcia’s maladies. The band got bigger, the staff got bigger, the crowds got bigger, the money got bigger…Oroboros all over again. The faster we go the rounder we get. No time to say, even though he apparently wanted to, “Hey, this is lame. We suck. The scene sucks. I suck. I’m going to take it easy for a year or two. Get clean, spend some time with the kids, go diving, kick back. Send my checks to _______.” Unfortunately, that big, old heart gave out.
Damn. ).