4 posts tagged “r.i.p.”
I flew with Ted Kennedy once. It was a Delta shuttle between Washington, DC (National), and Boston. I was going up to spend a week with my friend Dave, and The Senator was probably going home for the weekend. There we were, the man some people call the most powerful Senator ever and little old nobody me, sitting in the same Boeing 727.
That's it. That's all the story. He was in first class, of course, and I was back in steerage. The curtain was drawn between the two cabins, and I never even saw him. I did snap this picture, though, before we left DCA:
I always felt sorry for Ted Kennedy, inasmuch as it's possible to feel sorry for somebody hugely rich and powerful. He was the youngest son of a man who was truly a bastard, Joe Kennedy. Joe was ambitious, strict, corrupt, amoral, emotionally distant and all about image. When Joe, Jr, was killed during WW2, Joe Sr made the family go sailing to keep up appearances. "Kennedys don't cry" was a motto of his.
Joe, Jr, was the golden boy, the one who was going to be President. After he died, it fell to JFK. Joe Sr pulled strings and spent money, and his efforts were rewarded: JFK became president. Then was killed. Then RFK stepped up to run, and was killed. Between Joe, Jr, and JFK, Kathleen Kennedy, in many ways the spirit of the family, was killed in Europe.
After Bobby's death, Joe Kennedy, Sr, was feeble. He was barely functioning, and had to be fed. When Teddy went in and explained Chappaquiddick to him, Joe stopped eating. He died shortly thereafter.
I can't imagine living knowing that I'd broken my father's heart, and my father isn't a bastard like his.
I've read a lot of articles and essays on Edward Moore Kennedy today, and I wish him well in the afterlife. There are those who hate the Kennedys, and there are those who adore them. I take them individually on their merits. I think JFK did some great things as president, but he was Bill Clinton with class, charisma, and a press corps who happily looked the other way at his indiscretions. I don't know if he would have been a great President had he served two full terms. We will never know.
Bobby was genuinely empathetic with minorities and the poor. He wanted the Vietnam War to end. Would he have been a great president? I don't know. I honestly don't know whether he'd have beaten Nixon in the general election.
Jack and Bobby had the good fortune to be gunned down young, before they got white-haired and bloated, before the gin blossoms erupted on their noses. They died as legends, young and heroic.
Ted was different. He lacked JFK's charisma and RFK's fire. He worked hard in the Senate, and was instrumental in passing some huge legislation during his career. Most of it was geared toward helping the poor, not people like his father. I got laid-off a few years ago, and I thank God for COBRA, which enabled me to keep my health insurance. My little bout of Fournier's cost well over a quarter million dollars, and I was covered. Teddy passed the COBRA plan that saved my insurance. Without it, I'd probably never have been able to pay off my bills.
Senator Kennedy worked on education, health care, and against war. He was one of the few in Congress who voted against the Iraq War, saying (quite presciently, in my opinion), "There was no imminent threat. This was made up in Texas, announced in January to the Republican leadership that war was going to take place and was going to be good politically. This whole thing was a fraud." (source: The Washington Post)
People always talk about Chappaquiddick and booze with Ted Kennedy. Chappaquiddick was a fiasco, to be sure. I'll never know why he waited nine hours to report the accident. If he'd gone straight to the police, even if Mary Jo Kopechne still died, he would have survived politically. He didn't.
Ted was graceless that way. JFK and RFK had their faults and foibles as well, but they still smelled roselike. Ted couldn't catch a break. I think about how horrible it would be to have bad rhythm, and have Gregory and Maurice Hines as your big brothers. They're grace incarnate, and you trip walking to the bathroom.
That was Ted.
I don't think he really wanted to be President. Maybe he ran in 1980 to appease his father's ghost. Maybe he felt he had to carry forward his brothers' legacy. Maybe he was drunk. Either way, his campaign was a disaster. It did lead up to his shining moment, though. His powerful speech at the 1980 Democratic National Convention was amazing.
Teddy had a great voice, deep and sonorous, without the nasal bray his brothers had.
Maybe he did drink too much. I did too, and I didn't have half the pressures he did. I didn't cause my father to give up on living, nor was I left to carry-on a legend at 35 years old. I wasn't married to an alcoholic--Teddy's first wife has had well-publicized alcohol battles--and I wasn't patriarch to a family rife with misfits and criminals (William Kennedy Smith, anyone?). Ted's son, Patrick, lost a leg to cancer at age 12. That would add to your stress level.
Plus, if they tossed out every drunk in the Senate, they wouldn't have a quorum.
Ted Kennedy wasn't Jimmy Stewart--a beloved symbol of American values and bona fide war hero. To his family, though, he became paterfamilia, because it was his duty. He was there for JFK, Jr, and Caroline, and for Bobby's 427 kids. Even though they never wanted for money, he was their emotional center, the one who attended graduations, gave advice as best he could, and loved them no matter how much they screwed-up.
Ted Kennedy also spent 47 years in the US Senate, and worked hard to benefit people his robber baron father wouldn't have let trim his hedges. He buried both his parents and his beloved sister-in-law. Two of his siblings were killed in plane crashes. Two more were murdered, and his father had one sister lobotomized to control her better. The man had material blessings out the ass, but he suffered more than his fair share of tragedies. What I'll remember is that he worked past his shortcomings, and did what he had to do for his family, and what he felt was right for his country.
Teddy? I didn't always agree with you, but I think your heart was in the right place. You didn't need to be President to make your mark. I'm sure your father never told you this, so I will: you did good, kid. And, from the white-knuckled Cracker back in coach, "requiescat in pace." (Ask Bobby; I'm sure he'll know what it means)
I don't quite know how to finish that title.
Genius? Sure.
Michael Jackson was a talent the likes of which we see maybe once or twice a century. He could sing, and what he did for dancing made rhythm-challenged oafs like me cringe. How could we ever compete with that?
It's funny how many people tried. Back in the 80's, I remember seeing stupid people try and emulate Michael's dress, his look, even that inane one glove thing. Fail.
But was that all he was?
"Thriller" caught lightning in a bottle, to be sure. In the past 24 hours, I've read countless eulogies and remembrances about Michael Jackson. I got text messages from friends who were toddlers back then, or not even born. They grew up in a post-"Thriller" world, where MTV and radio weren't segregated like before.
Was "Thriller" a work of genius? Sure. I'd argue that it was equal parts Michael Jackson and Quincy Jones, who produced the record. It had a sound, slick and dark, with post-disco dance beats and lush orchestration. There were some good songs on "Bad," the follow-up, and a few hit-or-miss songs after that, but nothing he ever did touched "Thriller."
On the other ungloved hand, after "Thriller," Michael began falling apart. The media loves apart-falling, and Michael went from undisputed genius to flawed genius to full-bore whacknut before "Thriller" was even ten years old. It started with the little things--plastic surgery, the ever-lightening skin, the rumors of sleeping in a hyperbaric chamber, cavorting with Bubbles the chimp, and showing up at the Grammys with Emmanuel Lewis on his knee. The 1990's were worse for Michael, freakwise. His music wasn't selling in "Thriller" numbers, his face got creepier, his video persona more unstable, and we started hearing about little boys. This decade saw Michael be evicted from his Neverland Ranch, and be arrested and tried on molestation charges. He never recovered.
It sucks, really. I remember seeing him on the Motown at the Apollo special, and...holy crap. What can you say? He was just spectacular. Even watching Martin Bashir's smear-you-mentary a few years ago, I saw something in the way he moved at one point that suggested that Apollo exuberance. It's the way Gregory Hines moved, even when he was acting in "Law & Order," a hint that his limbs were more in tune to the Universe's music than ours are. How far he fell to the frail, fright-masked freak walking into that courtroom a few years ago.
I have to admit, I was never Michael Jackson's biggest fan. I got sick of his overexposure, and while I appreciated the slick production and occasionally tasty groove ("Smooth Criminal," eg), I didn't feel any sort of link, the way I did when Prince was in his purple reign. I was sad when Kurt Cobain killed himself, too, but I'd damaged my hearing blasting Nevermind in my truck.
But Michael Jackson was different. He seemed to be attracted to the publicity that imprisoned him. He did ridiculous things--walking around with that stupid germ mask, or the countless plastic surgeries that left him so horrific--and always seemed to be fighting to recapture that "Thriller" status. He wanted the worship and adulation. He erected a statue of himself, for God's sake--he made himself his own graven image.
Yeah, I admit he had a rough childhood. His dad was a bastard, blah, blah, blah. Lots of people have terrible childhoods, some 1000 times worse than Michael's. People heal. Seriously, what he spent on his Neverland Ranch's train alone could've bought him years of amazing therapy. I have a hard time feeling that bad for somebody who blew hundreds of millions of dollars on gaudy crap while people I know are struggling to survive. The $20 million he paid the first kid who charged him with molestation? That would feed and house a lot of people. It's sad that Michael Jackson was screwed up in the head, so megalomaniacal that he thought he could get away with anything.
Sadder still, I'd lay even odds his toxicology report will read just like Elvis', a veritable PDR of uppers and downers and narcotics. Somebody in MJ's party was said to have told a paramedic that Michael had gone into distress after an injection of Demerol. Kurt Cobain will be remembered as a junkie for abusing heroin. Michael's chemical abuses have had the good PR sense to be called "medicine" instead of "drugs."
Michael was a superstar among superstars, same as Elvis before him. He had talent, and the camera loved him. He'll always be remembered, same as Elvis. Thing is, Elvis is generally remembered as the fat, Vegas version, not the lean, dangerous rebel of the late 50's. I'm afraid Michael will befall the same fate. In the same breath as "Thriller" will be whispers of "and THEN what happened to him? How sad."
How sad, indeed. Sad for us, left wondering what he could have become had he focused more on his music, and less on his legend.
R.I.P., Michael. I hope you find what you need on the other side.
But there was a lot more to Carlin than telling jokes. Truth be told, I've been fortunate to see some amazing comedians perform live. From the surprisingly hilarious--Richard Jeni, Rosie O'Donnell and Rodney Dangerfield--to the surprisingly disappointing--Richard Lewis, Rich Little--I always laughed. I love to laugh, and they were all good.
Carlin transcended "funny." He was smart, cerebral, angry. George would look at the above sentence, and wonder why all the comics I listed have first names beginning with 'R.' Only one other comedian has ever left me thinking as well as laughing, and that was Dennis Miller.
Without Carlin, there'd be no Dennis Miller. I wonder what comedy would be like had we never had Class Clown, the Hippie-Dippie Weather Man, and the infamous Seven Words. George Carlin made comedy better. He improved it, just as he improved early 1980's HBO and Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.
I recently bought the movie The Aristocrats, in which 100 comedians discuss and tell "the world's dirtiest joke." Comedians are a breed apart from most of polite society. I've worked with many over the years, and they can be taxing at times. What struck me as I watched this film was how unlike the others George Carlin was, how sui generis his intellect was among 99 other funny people.
Many of my Vox neighbors--Kirk, Jay, Miami Shyner, et al--have eulogized George beautifully, poignantly. Kevin Smith wrote a loving tribute for Newsweek. I wasn't going to write a eulogy for George Carlin--just an "R.I.P., George, now go read what Kirk wrote." Once again, though, that sonofabitch got me thinking.
He always did; he always will.
He was never the star, but one of the greatest supporting actors in comedy history. He played some great characters during his decade on the Carol Burnett Show, winning four Emmys for his work, and he was the villainous politician Hedley Lamarr in "Blazing Saddles." But I'll always remember Harvey Korman for how completely Tim Conway cracked him up. In the clip below, Harvey doesn't say a line. All he has to do is keep a straight face. He was hilariously unsuccessful. His unabashed amusement at Conway's antics showed how much he loved what he did. He didn't need to be the main focus: "It takes a certain type of person to be a television star," he said in a 2005 interview. "I didn't have whatever that is... Give me something
bizarre to play or put me in a dress and I'm fine." He truly was that. Harvey Korman died of complications following an abdominal aortal aneurysm. He was 81. Requiescat in pace.
