![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thatcrazycajunThe man known primarily as TV's most famous sidekick—but who turned out to be a star in his own right—is gone. Ed McMahon, U.S. Marine colonel and decorated veteran of both World War II and the Korean conflict; devoted husband, father and grandfather; television announcer, host and pitchman; and tireless philanthropist, died today at a Los Angeles, CA hospital at age 86. NPR reports on his death here and CNN carries memories of him from his friends in showbiz here.
This is particularly shocking and saddening for me personally, as I remember Ed for something much more important than his three-decade-long run sitting beside the late Johnny Carson on NBC's Tonight Show, his stints hosting Star Search and TV's Bloopers and Practical Jokes (the latter with former Philly next-door neighbor Dick Clark) or his ads for American Family Publishers and other products and services. Since 1967, four years after my birth, Ed has been announcer and co-host of the Muscular Dystrophy Association's annual Labor Day Telethon, hosted by Jerry Lewis; literally almost as long as the national telethon has existed, Ed has been a part of it. (The telethon was New York-only from 1952-1966.)
Imagining the Telethon (now just ten weeks away) without Ed's jovial, avuncular presence is almost as unthinkable as imagining it without Jerry...although that, too, is a reality we will one day face. MDA has been my favorite charity since barely after I got out of short pants, and Ed's booming voice, famous laugh and endless good humor on the annual 21.5-hour show were a big part of the reason why. He logged 41 consecutive appearances—more than anyone but the Big Kahuna himself—and worked like a dog behind the scenes as well. His advent on the telethon, as recounted in his 1988 memoir For Laughing Out Loud, was actually a bit of an accident:
McMahon remembers that his first appearance on the Telethon was as a celebrity guest asking viewers for donations. But while he was making his pitch, Lewis temporarily left the stage, leaving McMahon standing there alone when his speech was done. So, “being a professional, I introduced the next performer at the proper time. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, here they are, let’s give a big round of applause…’ As I finished I looked into the wings and saw Jerry standing there, arms folded, watching me. ‘Go ahead,’ he told me. ‘You’re doing a great job.’”
A professional, indeed...and a great and generous man with a heart to match his six-foot-plus size. My heart, thoughts and prayers are with his widow Pam, his five surviving children (one died of cancer in 1995), and all the rest of his family, colleagues, friends and fans. He leaves one hell of a humongous pair of shoes to fill...in more senses than one.
This is particularly shocking and saddening for me personally, as I remember Ed for something much more important than his three-decade-long run sitting beside the late Johnny Carson on NBC's Tonight Show, his stints hosting Star Search and TV's Bloopers and Practical Jokes (the latter with former Philly next-door neighbor Dick Clark) or his ads for American Family Publishers and other products and services. Since 1967, four years after my birth, Ed has been announcer and co-host of the Muscular Dystrophy Association's annual Labor Day Telethon, hosted by Jerry Lewis; literally almost as long as the national telethon has existed, Ed has been a part of it. (The telethon was New York-only from 1952-1966.)
Imagining the Telethon (now just ten weeks away) without Ed's jovial, avuncular presence is almost as unthinkable as imagining it without Jerry...although that, too, is a reality we will one day face. MDA has been my favorite charity since barely after I got out of short pants, and Ed's booming voice, famous laugh and endless good humor on the annual 21.5-hour show were a big part of the reason why. He logged 41 consecutive appearances—more than anyone but the Big Kahuna himself—and worked like a dog behind the scenes as well. His advent on the telethon, as recounted in his 1988 memoir For Laughing Out Loud, was actually a bit of an accident:
McMahon remembers that his first appearance on the Telethon was as a celebrity guest asking viewers for donations. But while he was making his pitch, Lewis temporarily left the stage, leaving McMahon standing there alone when his speech was done. So, “being a professional, I introduced the next performer at the proper time. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, here they are, let’s give a big round of applause…’ As I finished I looked into the wings and saw Jerry standing there, arms folded, watching me. ‘Go ahead,’ he told me. ‘You’re doing a great job.’”
A professional, indeed...and a great and generous man with a heart to match his six-foot-plus size. My heart, thoughts and prayers are with his widow Pam, his five surviving children (one died of cancer in 1995), and all the rest of his family, colleagues, friends and fans. He leaves one hell of a humongous pair of shoes to fill...in more senses than one.
