Don Adams R.I.P.
99: Oh, Max what a terrible weapon of destruction.
Max: Yes. You know, China, Russia, and France should outlaw all nuclear weapons. We should insist upon it.
99: What if they don’t, Max?
Max: Then we may have to blast them. That’s the only way to keep peace in the world.
Get Smart was one of the first television series I remember watching… I think it was KCOP that was syndicating it in the mid-70s - never missed an episode of it when I wasn’t in school. Sure I never missed a James Bond movie but Smart was, er, smarter and besides - Agent 99 and the Sunbeam Tiger if you get my drift. Put it this way, when early sysadmins gave computers on their network names from Greek mythology, Star Trek, or Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy, when I had a chance to do it the names were max.*, agent99.*, control.*, larabee.*, siegfried.*, and hymie.*
Adams’ obituary is one of those amazing life stories that manage to stuff four or five lifetimes into one.
He joined the U.S. Marines in the early days of World War II and served as a drill instructor. He saw combat in the invasion of Guadalcanal and was the only survivor of his platoon. He contracted blackwater fever and nearly died, remaining hospitalized for more than a year.
Like his brother, the late comedian Dick Yarmy, Adams was an inveterate horse-player. His leisure time was largely spent either at racetracks or in card games at the Playboy Mansion, and with pals such as Hugh Hefner, James Caan, and Don Rickles. Divorced for the third time, he lived alone in a luxury apartment in Century City. He was a devoted history buff, and was an amateur expert on the lives of Abraham Lincoln and Adolf Hitler. He was a talented poet and painter and had at one time considered a career as an artist.
I kinda wish he had written an autobiography.
September 28th, 2005 at 8:52 pm
“You are now surrounded by 5,000 crack troops.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Would you believe. . .150 Tyrolean ski-jumpers.”
“No.”
“How about two St. Bernards in heat?”
“Not the Cone of Silence!”
“His father’s name was Hymie!”
I always loved the opening sequence, with the closing doors. His apartment was killer, too, and–this is not frequently commented upon, it seems to me–Smart was quite a natty dresser. And who could forget Siegfried:
“Und now, Schmart, it ist time to zay ‘Goot-bye’! . . . Goot-bye!”
“Running a Prison Camp vithout a license. . .”
and, finally,
“Sorry about that, Chief.”
March 10th, 2008 at 6:28 pm
Always a great fan. 82 is a pretty good age.