Yo folks. 
While playing ED, I was listening to a radio show that was talking about popular falsehoods in media - things that everyone thinks are true, but actually aren't.
Things such as: Humphrey Bogart never actually says "Play it again, Sam" in Casablanca. Dirty Harry NEVER says "Do you feel lucky, punk?" Things which are in the public consciousness, but didn't actually happen.
One of those examples was the death of Abe Vigoda.
Now - before we go on, Fish has now gone to his reward - for real this time - and is as we speak keeping the pretty angels in Heaven delighted with his dry humour and gentle class. Abe Vigoda died (for real) in 2016 at the impressive age of 94.
But according to the media, he had died twice before.
Abe Vigoda was one of the few guys in this world it was impossible not to love. He was kind, gentle and funny; he was a smart, skilled actor and comedian with the rare ability to speak right to you - to make you his friend. He was a genuinely good guy and his decency shone through in every word.
He was that rarest of individuals: a truly nice guy.
As Detective Phil Fish in the 1970's sitcom Barney Miller, Abe Vigoda was one of the most endearing and most loved characters in television of the day.
BUT: When Barney Miller ended in 1982, when the New York Times covered the wrap party, it mentioned that Abe Vigoda was not there, and the other castmembers honoured the 'late' actor.
...Which would have been a bit of a surprise to Mr. Vigoda, he was starring in a play in Calgary. He certainly had a laugh about it later.
Over the years, it became something of an amusement for certain media to declare Abe Vigoda dead.
The funny thing is - if you look at the man in the picture above (Abe Vigoda as Phil Fish, age 60) - you might suspect it could be true. Older, stoop-shouldered and a bit hunched, Abe never portrayed a picture of health.
He WAS, though. He was a runner, a handball player and a retired soldier. He'd tried his hand at boxing and fencing. He was interested in healthy cooking and was, by all accounts, great in the kitchen.
For his 'old' looks, the guy was in shape.
Let's be blunt - you HAVE to be in shape for the lifestyle he had chosen. Being an actor is NOT easy; especially if you are always a supporting actor - never the lead. He had to be on the ball to do whatever needed doing - and to do it great, the first time, every time.
And he did it. EVERY TIME.
Abe Vigoda was a rare guy. Truly nice, VERY skilled, highly intelligent. A man who was around at the closing days of Vaudeville was still delighting audiences well into the Youtube and Tick Tock days.
I saw him once, on stage at the Juste Pour Rire festival in Montreal (Eng. translation: 'Just for Laughs') - a comedy festival held every summer. It was around 1994 or so - I was just out of the Army and a newly-minted helicopter pilot on course in Montreal to learn survey flight. I got my hands on two tickets, snapped them (and a pretty French manifest clerk) up and got down to Rue St. Catherine for the show - and it was wonderful.
Mr. Vigoda had a 15 minute set, and he was howlingly funny. When he was announced, we applauded - who doesn't love Fish?
This old man - then into his seventies - walked up to the mic, then sat down in a chair that had been placed for him. He was carrying a styrofoam cup of coffee and a pack of plastic-wrapped powdered doughnuts - both items you'd get out of a vending machine. Abe sat down, sipped his coffee, noisily opened the pack and ate a couple of doughnuts. While the audience chuckled, a bit confused, the older man sipped his coffee and ate his doughnuts, seemingly without a care in the world.
Only after a couple of minutes he looked into the audience. "Well wazza matta?!" he asked in his gravelly New York accent, scowling under his thick eyebrows, "Do YOU start work the moment you show up?"
The theater exploded in laughter and applause - and every person there LOVED Abe Vigoda.
I still do.
The day he died, his many previous erroneous deaths in a way took away from the severity of the event - and I truly believe that's how he wanted it. He had fun with his earlier non-deaths, I have a suspicion that the confusion created by his actual death would have had the gentle man giggling in glee.
There is not, nor was there ever, ANY argument or point for this post. I was just listening to a radio show, and remembering one of the most beautiful, kindly and lovable men to have ever graced our screens:
Abe Vigoda
I love you, man.
While playing ED, I was listening to a radio show that was talking about popular falsehoods in media - things that everyone thinks are true, but actually aren't.
Things such as: Humphrey Bogart never actually says "Play it again, Sam" in Casablanca. Dirty Harry NEVER says "Do you feel lucky, punk?" Things which are in the public consciousness, but didn't actually happen.
One of those examples was the death of Abe Vigoda.
Now - before we go on, Fish has now gone to his reward - for real this time - and is as we speak keeping the pretty angels in Heaven delighted with his dry humour and gentle class. Abe Vigoda died (for real) in 2016 at the impressive age of 94.
But according to the media, he had died twice before.
Abe Vigoda was one of the few guys in this world it was impossible not to love. He was kind, gentle and funny; he was a smart, skilled actor and comedian with the rare ability to speak right to you - to make you his friend. He was a genuinely good guy and his decency shone through in every word.
He was that rarest of individuals: a truly nice guy.
As Detective Phil Fish in the 1970's sitcom Barney Miller, Abe Vigoda was one of the most endearing and most loved characters in television of the day.
BUT: When Barney Miller ended in 1982, when the New York Times covered the wrap party, it mentioned that Abe Vigoda was not there, and the other castmembers honoured the 'late' actor.
...Which would have been a bit of a surprise to Mr. Vigoda, he was starring in a play in Calgary. He certainly had a laugh about it later.
Over the years, it became something of an amusement for certain media to declare Abe Vigoda dead.
The funny thing is - if you look at the man in the picture above (Abe Vigoda as Phil Fish, age 60) - you might suspect it could be true. Older, stoop-shouldered and a bit hunched, Abe never portrayed a picture of health.
He WAS, though. He was a runner, a handball player and a retired soldier. He'd tried his hand at boxing and fencing. He was interested in healthy cooking and was, by all accounts, great in the kitchen.
For his 'old' looks, the guy was in shape.
Let's be blunt - you HAVE to be in shape for the lifestyle he had chosen. Being an actor is NOT easy; especially if you are always a supporting actor - never the lead. He had to be on the ball to do whatever needed doing - and to do it great, the first time, every time.
And he did it. EVERY TIME.
Abe Vigoda was a rare guy. Truly nice, VERY skilled, highly intelligent. A man who was around at the closing days of Vaudeville was still delighting audiences well into the Youtube and Tick Tock days.
I saw him once, on stage at the Juste Pour Rire festival in Montreal (Eng. translation: 'Just for Laughs') - a comedy festival held every summer. It was around 1994 or so - I was just out of the Army and a newly-minted helicopter pilot on course in Montreal to learn survey flight. I got my hands on two tickets, snapped them (and a pretty French manifest clerk) up and got down to Rue St. Catherine for the show - and it was wonderful.
Mr. Vigoda had a 15 minute set, and he was howlingly funny. When he was announced, we applauded - who doesn't love Fish?
This old man - then into his seventies - walked up to the mic, then sat down in a chair that had been placed for him. He was carrying a styrofoam cup of coffee and a pack of plastic-wrapped powdered doughnuts - both items you'd get out of a vending machine. Abe sat down, sipped his coffee, noisily opened the pack and ate a couple of doughnuts. While the audience chuckled, a bit confused, the older man sipped his coffee and ate his doughnuts, seemingly without a care in the world.
Only after a couple of minutes he looked into the audience. "Well wazza matta?!" he asked in his gravelly New York accent, scowling under his thick eyebrows, "Do YOU start work the moment you show up?"
The theater exploded in laughter and applause - and every person there LOVED Abe Vigoda.
I still do.
The day he died, his many previous erroneous deaths in a way took away from the severity of the event - and I truly believe that's how he wanted it. He had fun with his earlier non-deaths, I have a suspicion that the confusion created by his actual death would have had the gentle man giggling in glee.
There is not, nor was there ever, ANY argument or point for this post. I was just listening to a radio show, and remembering one of the most beautiful, kindly and lovable men to have ever graced our screens:
Abe Vigoda
I love you, man.
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