09.22.2021
WILLE GARSON
The passing of my dear friend, Willie Garson is as yet impossible to
reason, given his love, his embrace and his appetite for life, for
music, for acting, poker, New Orleans, the magnificence that is Tom
Jones and for the company of friends around a table filled of
conversation, flavour, gossip and laughter. The many admirers and fans
of his acting will not be surprised that the wit and verve that he
brought to the characters he portrayed, was only part of the puzzle.
Willie was splendid company not in that frivolous way in which time can
be squandered. I think of him in the present tense, a joyful,
opinionated man, sometimes exasperated at the stupidity, viciousness and
vanities of life and what passes for leadership in politics and
business. Then there was his love and care, for his friends and his
family, most of all his son, Nathen, a young man for whom, Diana and I
hold the most tender and consoling thoughts, this evening.
I have the most wonderful photograph from the day that I first
introduced my younger sons, Dexter and Frank to Willie, when just
toddling. They are teenagers now, so I would not embarrass them by
reprinting it here. You will have to take my word for the delight in
Willie’s face; somewhere between that of a man regarding a magician
presenting a trick and that which might be read as, “Oh boy, there’s
gonna be some trouble here”.
When Willie first confided in me about his illness and the rigor of
proposed treatments, I sent him a framed, autographed photo of Sammy
Davis Jr., one of his favorite entertainers. The singer was sporting the
style of horn-rim glasses that both Willie and I have favoured all these
years, although I would say Sammy probably carried them off with more
élan.
I hoped that Sammy’s exuberant flourish in the photograph would act as a
good luck charm and tonic to Willie’s spirits. I believed with all my
heart that my friend would be the exception who disproved the rule, as
he gathered his strength and weathered the brief elations, the crushing
disappointments, the crazy energy, determination, fatalism and the rage
that are all part of any prolonged resistance against mortal illness.
There is a lot of pious nonsense spoken about courage in art and show
business. I’ve always claimed that “courage” was better used to describe
an innocent soul facing a firing squad but I would revise that
melodramatic example to take in anyone having to parcel out their
dwindling energies to leave this place with all the grace, good humour
and gratitude that the indignities and insults of failing health allow
and this was the last of Willie’s achievements.
Goodnight, my friend. I raise a chaste glass to you and one day I shall
finally master the rules of this card game as you have done. Keep a
place for me by the bandstand.
With love and condolences, to Nathen, Jerry, John and all Willie’s many
loving friends and colleagues. E.C., Diana, Dexter and Frank