Good Night, King of the Bronx

 

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Who isn’t sobered into a melancholy pause upon realizing that most of the cast of Spartacus has now departed this earthly veil?  Look at the list:

Lawrence Olivier — dead!

Jean Simmons — dead!

Peter Ustinov — dead!

Charles Laughton — dead for ages now!

It’s somewhat fitting that only The Ragpicker’s Son himself — star of the slave rebellion show and Gordon Gekko’s true father– Kirk Douglas — remains alone from the vast ranks of this blighted party. 

And now this day, even the questionably heterosexual but unquestionably loyal “Antonius” — Tony Curtis — a Noo Yawkah-done-good extraordinaire, has finally taken that last train to the Bronx.  

 I always loved Spartacus as a youth, albeit not for Curtis’s part, though he made a great Sparty sidekick, despite the bath scenes (not that there’s anything wrong with bath scenes, per se).   It was on WPIX Channel 11 and/or WOR-9  at least two or three times a year, maybe because of native sons (of Noo Yawk) Curtis and Douglas were the stars.   

 No matter, Curtis was always a favorite of mine for this flick and for Billy Wilder’s classic featuring Marilyn Monroe at her apex — Some Like it Hot, which co-starred another all-time great, Jack Lemmon.   It’s nice to remember that before he started appearing in Dan Tanna’s Vegas with a bad toupee,  Tony could kick some ass on the silver screen, not to mention catching some off of it.  

I’ll leave this hat tip to Tony with a funny story he told in a 2006 interview with Esquire magazine, talking about his early days of fame in New York and L.A. —

When I left the Navy, I used the GI Bill to get into the Dramatic Workshop, which was located at the President Theatre on Forty-eighth Street. Walter Matthau and Harry Belafonte were students there, too. We were all just trying to make it. Later on, I went out to California, and good things started happening for me. When I came back to New York to do a promotion for City Across the River, they gave me a suite at the Sherry-Netherland and a huge black limo. I took it around to show my buddies in the Bronx and then went by the Dramatic Workshop. It was a terrible, rainy afternoon, and who do I see out in front? Walter Matthau. He’s got a long, heavy coat on with a Racing Form sticking out of the pocket, and he’s looking down at the gutter. Here I am in this nice, warm limo. And there he is, this grumpy guy surrounded by a cold, miserable world. The look on his face says, “What’s ever going to happen for me? Nothin’!” So I tell the driver to pull alongside him and stop. Now Walter’s watching the limo. I roll the window down, look at him, and say, “I fucked Yvonne De Carlo!” Then I roll the window back up in a hurry and tell the driver to get the hell out of there.

No, no, no, he wasn’t mad! For years, Walter loved to tell that story at parties. He’d make it last twenty minutes.

There’s more funny quotes like that in the link.   He sounds like an old pisser, and a guy to have a bourbon with.  Self-centered and probably something of a jerk, but a veritable pisser.

Best to you all, and good night Tony.

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