A great friend of mine, Eddie Carroll, passed away early this morning at the age of 77. Eddie was best known for his one-man show in which he impersonated (and did justice to) Jack Benny but that was only a small part of what he did. He was a writer — he and his partner Jamie Farr supplemented their acting careers writing cartoons for Hanna-Barbera, for instance. He was a cartoon voice actor, most notably speaking for Jiminy Cricket for the last few decades. He also did non-Benny acting. I was first aware of him when he was a regular on a short-lived variety show that Don Knotts had on NBC.
I later got to know him and as past blog posts here will tell you, thought the world of him, above and beyond his fine Benny simulation. I'd like to write more about him but I'm due to go direct a cartoon voice recording and Eddie, ever the professional, would have insisted I not keep actors waiting. I did though have to get this up here, if only to say what a fine gentleman he was. The last time I saw him was, sadly, at a wake for another friend. Eddie was wearing a cap to hide the effects of recent surgery which, we'd all heard, might only prolong his life a few more months…but he didn't want us to make a fuss about that so we didn't. He can't, however, stop all his friends from missing him greatly. Our condolences and much love to his wonderful wife, Carolyn. Today is their 47th anniversary.
Longtime comic book artist Henry Scarpelli has died at the age of 79. Scarpelli was best known in the field for his work for the Archie company, including a long stint drawing the Archie newspaper strip, and for occasionally replicating that art style on other companies' comics. In the late sixties, for instance, he drew Swing with Scooter and other DC comics that tried to get that "Archie" look. Working in other styles, he drew many TV and movie adaptations for Dell Comics in the sixties (The Beverly Hillbillies, for one) and even dabbled once in a while in adventure-type comics.
My favorite work of his was the Abbott & Costello comic book which he and writer Steve Skeates launched for Charlton in 1968. It was much funnier than the Hanna-Barbera cartoon show on which it was based and probably funnier than Abbott and Costello, themselves.
Scarpelli was a Korean War vet, a graduate from the School of Visual Arts in Manhattan and the proud father of actor Glenn Scarpelli. He was well-respected by his peers and was honored for his work by the National Cartoonists Society.
When I was around thirteen or fourteen, I had a crush on every woman ever photographed by a man named Peter Gowland. In the "men's magazines" of the day, he was a true artist…and you could almost spot his work without looking at the photo credit. The ladies were young, healthy, happy, not wearing a lot of clothing (if any) and usually surrounded by lots of water. I was a boy, not a man, but I occasionally snuck peeks at men's magazines, always fearing someone would swoop in and arrest me for doing so. Mr. Gowland's ladies were worth the risk…and if you go over to his site and prowl around, you'll understand.
I met Gowland around 1973 when I was briefly taking some courses at Santa Monica College, mostly to appease my father, who hadn't liked me dropping out of full-time status at UCLA to write Super Goof comic books. At one point, SMC had what to some of us seemed like a very important record. Its football team stunk, its academic achievements were undistinguished…but more Playboy Playmates had hailed from our school than any other in the country. This was mainly because Peter Gowland frequented the campus, working with its instructors occasionally.
There was at the time — and may still be, for all I know — a scam worked by sleazy guys on the make. They'd approach attractive women in public places and say, "Hi, I'm a photographer for Playboy and you're lovely and if you'd like to make beaucoup bucks by posing for me, here's my card." They would then whip out a business card of dubious connection to Mr. Hefner's enterprise…and guess what they actually had in mind. From what I heard, that happened a lot. I met women who got one of those come-ons every week.
Well, one day I actually saw Peter Gowland do that with a young lady and it was legit. That is, he really was shooting pix for Playboy. He did tell me though that when he found a great new subject, he usually didn't offer her to that magazine. She could make a lot more money posing for him if he could sell the pix to a wider range of markets than Playboy's exclusivity contracts would allow. And he could spare himself vast headaches if he didn't have to reshoot photos over and over and over again to comply with Hef's micro-management.
I didn't have a chance that day to tell him a story that I thought he'd appreciate…that is, if he even believed it. It was the tale of how I came to be familiar with his work and I swear, it's absolutely true. Many years later, I wrote it up for one of my columns and posted it to this site. If you'd like to read it, it's right here.
I took that column offline a few years ago because I included it in one of my books but I just put it back for this occasion. Before I removed it, Mr. Gowland happened across it and wrote me a nice e-mail inviting me to come up to his studio in Santa Monica for a visit.
As noted here, Peter Gowland has died at the age of 93. He is survived by his wife of 68 years, several daughters, granddaughters and even a great-granddaughter…and I'll bet he took gorgeous photos of every one of them. He leaves this planet with the gratitude of a lot of guys around my age for showing us, just when we needed it, how beautiful a beautiful woman can be.
Sad to report the passing of longtime editor-artist Dick Giordano.
Dick was born July 20, 1932 in New York and launched his career in comics in 1952, drawing for Charlton Comics. He was not only a very good artist — one they quickly assigned to handle many of their covers — but an industrious one, as well. He quickly got a reputation as a guy who never said no to any assignment; who'd work day and night to get anything and everything done. So not only did he do all his own work but he was constantly helping other artists, pitching in on their work. Even when he rose to the post of editor-in-chief at Charlton (which occurred in '65), his art appeared in the books of other companies. There were several artists whose reputations were built at least in part on the quality and efficiency of artwork that was actually ghosted by Giordano.
When he took over as editor at Charlton, Dick was charged with revamping the line to try and compete with the Marvel boom of the sixties. Aided by the presence of Steve Ditko in his freelance pool, Dick launched a line of "action heroes" (Blue Beetle, a revival of Captain Atom, etc.) that won great critical acclaim but, apparently, insufficient sales. He replaced them with a line of ghost-oriented comics that were much more successful and continued long after Dick left Charlton for an editorial post at DC Comics in 1967. It has usually been reported that DC hired him and he brought over Ditko as well as a number of new folks (like Jim Aparo and Steve Skeates) he'd "discovered" at Charlton. Actually, Ditko preceded Giordano to DC. In fact, it was partly through a recommendation from Ditko that Carmine InfantinoIrwin Donenfeld at DC hired Dick. [Correction.]
As was the case at Charlton, Giordano proved to be an exceptional editor. He was good at finding talent, good at leaving it alone to do what it did best, good at stepping in when necessary. Writers and artists generally liked working with Dick. Most found him honest, helpful and willing to gamble on new things. Alas, his first stint at DC did not last long. He was assigned a slate of comics that were either brand-new or failing at a time when just about everything that was brand-new or failing there failed. He openly clashed with Infantino on company policies and in 1971, chose to go elsewhere.
He and artist Neal Adams founded Continuity Associates, a firm which supplied artwork to many publishers, DC included, and commercial enterprises. An amazing number of artists who would later become prominent in comics got either their first jobs or their first breaks by working at Continuity, including Terry Austin, Joe Rubenstein and Al Milgrom. A major part of the Giordano legacy is the number of artists and writers who broke into the field because of him, either at Continuity or at Charlton or his two tours-of-duty at DC.
His second DC period began in 1980, several years after Infantino's departure. Eventually, it led to Dick becoming Vice President/Executive Editor, a post he held until 1993. I worked with him a number of times and though we had our differences, he was usually a joy. He could manage without micro-managing and he was often capable of saying, as some in that kind of job are not, that the company was wrong and the freelancer was right. That was not always the case but it was true often enough that most of us were willing to forgive him when he didn't act like…well, didn't act like Dick Giordano.
That was the main point I want to make here about Dick. I got into comics around 1970 and so was witness to a major sea change in how the industry treated its talent. I saw publishers gain a new, hitherto-denied respect for the men and women who fill the pages and a diminution of the "plantation" mentality that existed for too long. It was not just that pay scales got better and they began doing things like returning original art and standardizing credit policies. It was that they talked to you like partners, not pieceworkers, and recognized the unique contribution that each person could make. Dick was by no means the only reason that change came about but he was an important one.
When he retired from his executive position at DC, he returned to his first love, the drawing of comics. He was very good at it. He was also a very fine inker of other artists' work and many asked for him to be assigned to their projects. In 2003, he collaborated with author Michael Eury on an autobiography, Dick Giordano: Changing Comics, One Day at a Time, which is a good overview not only of his career but of the changes in the industry during that period.
On a personal note: I really liked Dick. I liked reading comics he worked on. I liked working with him, liked seeing how much of a difference he made in so many lives. It was generally a positive one. He was a devout fan of comics in the best possible way and one time when he and I had a very brutal argument over a certain DC policy, we followed it with an utterly-friendly discussion of comic artists we both admired. It was that passion for the field and that enthusiasm for the talents of others than made him a very fine editor and a very fine gentleman. Comics already miss him…a lot.
I always liked Robert Culp on I Spy. I liked him on The Greatest American Hero, too. He worked an awful lot and I can't think of anything he was in where I thought he was less than terrific.
But I'll tell you where I really liked him: At strikes. He spoke at a big Writers Guild rally during the work stoppage of '88 and, wow. He gave a wonderful speech that cut to the heart of the labor unrest that year and it was delivered with such passion and clarity of purpose that every writer in the place — must have been upwards of 1500 of us — thought, "Boy, I'd like to have that man read lines I'd written."
And you knew that wasn't at all why Culp gave the speech. I picketed with him during WGA strikes and went over and picketed alongside him at some actors' strikes, as well. I remember him hopping up on a truck and hauling big, heavy tubs of water and Gatorade out, then directing traffic and carrying armloads of signs. There were a lot of stars there but not all were willing to do the heavy lifting and physical stuff. Culp was. Heck of a guy.
It's tough writing these about friends, especially friends dying way too young. In this case, the friend is comic fan-turned-filmmaker Mike Valerio, lost to us by heart failure this weekend. He was 51.
I've known Mike for…gee, I don't know how long. Since the mid-seventies, I guess. Mike was very active in fanzines of the day, particularly in those devoted to the Legion of Super-Heroes comics from DC. He grew up in Seekonk, MA, graduated from Rhode Island College and soon broke into the TV business on a version of PM Magazine done in Providence, R.I. and hosted by the then-newcomer Matt Lauer. Eventually, Mike moved on to Chicago (where he produced PM Magazine there) and then Hollywood. His friend Mike Flynn recalls…
In Chicago, the time came for cutbacks. Apparently, Mike or one married fellow were going to have to be let go. Mike took the axe so the family man could keep working. Yes, he took the opportunity to move to L.A., but he had nothing lined up and just went out on his moxie. After Mike told me this, I found it impossible to hope for anything but the best for him, and there were times it seemed it was headed his way.
Valerio did all right in Los Angeles. He wrote and/or directed hundreds of documentaries and entertainment projects, often of a promotional nature. His proudest (and most frustrating) project was the 1999 theatrical feature, Carlo's Wake, which he directed and co-wrote. The film received rave reviews but got caught up in legal snarls and was barely released.
Mike worked with everyone in the TV business, producing promotional films for all the major networks, and he occasionally found time to dabble in comics. He created and wrote a comic book called Stealth Force for Malibu Comics and also worked on Malibu's Planet of the Apes line and a Bruce Lee series.
He was an occasional off-the-record source for TV news on this blog and occasionally let me quote him. In this piece about the passing of Charlton Heston, he noted what a classy guy Mr. Heston was. The same could be said for Mr. Valerio. We'll miss you, Mike.
Comic book artist Violet Barclay (aka Valerie Barclay) has died at the age of 88. Ms. Barclay was born in New York on November 5, 1922. She attended the School of Industrial Arts in that city but was unable to find work in that area after graduation. In 1941, Mike Sekowsky — who had recently begun drawing for Timely Comics (now Marvel), discovered his old classmate working as a restaurant hostess and got her a job inking for Timely. She worked there until 1949, then freelanced for other companies including Standard Comics, DC, St. John, Ace and ACG. When work became scarce in the field around 1954, she got out and worked as a model and a waitress until breaking into fashion illustration, mainly doing advertising art for some of the nation's leading clothing lines. She died February 26.
I'm afraid I don't have an illustration available that I'm sure represents Ms. Barclay's artwork. The panel above right is from a 1954 issue of Complete Love, published by Ace, and it's often offered as being both pencilled and inked by her. Is it? I don't think the pencilling is. The inking might be. She didn't have that distinctive or consistent a style and a lot of what has been identified as her work was clearly done by Chic Stone, who worked for Timely at the same time. Someone needs to research this better than I can.
Beyond her credits, Ms. Barclay is known today for a couple of reasons. One is that in his 1947 book Secrets Behind the Comics, Stan Lee introduced her as the "Glamorous Girl Inker" of several of the comics he was then editing. Women were rare in comics then and it was startling to some that there were any, let alone that one was glamorous. Another point of interest for some were the stories of romantic triangles in and around comic book company offices. Sekowsky was usually one point of a triangle and she was another. In a 2004 interview with Alter Ego and in other conversations, Barclay told some of those stories and they may well have been accurate. Then again, I know Sekowsky, with absolutely no anger towards her, remembered certain incidents in an entirely different manner.
I'm in no position to judge whose memories were more correct, nor is it much of my business. The one time I spoke to Ms. Barclay, she phoned me to ask how Mike was. She'd heard he was not well (he wasn't) and she heard I knew him (I did) and she still had great affection for him (and vice-versa). We had a nice conversation about him and about her career and she asked me to give him a big hug and a kiss for her (I didn't).
Mike told me his versions of the same history. I'm not sure I remember them well enough to repeat them and if I did, I wouldn't because he always refused to talk about her for public consumption. I did one formal interview with Mike "on background," meaning that I promised him it would never be quoted directly. He was unhesitant in telling me how certain people in comics were, to him, liars and cheaters and he even accused some of the kinds of deeds for which people go to prison. But about Violet Barclay, he would only say she was a sweet, wonderful lady. Maybe I ought to leave it at that.
Jim Harmon (center) flanked by Tommy Cook and Frank Bresee.
Author-historian Jim Harmon died February 16 from (I am told) a heart attack. Jim was born in 1933 and in the forties, he was an avid collector of pulp magazines — science-fiction, especially — and a devout fan of radio programs of the day. He became an expert in these areas, authoring several fine books, most notably The Great Radio Heroes, a top-selling 1967 chronicle of an art form and an era. He was also a fan of comic books of the forties and so was a contributor to the earliest comic fanzines. He could talk for hours about the nexus of radio heroes like The Green Hornet and comic book characters like Batman.
Jim wrote a lot of fiction under a number of names. His own appeared on dozens of stories the sold over the years to science-fiction magazines and he wrote often for film publications. In the seventies, he briefly edited Monsters of the Movies, which was Marvel's attempt to mine the marketplace that bought Famous Monsters of Filmland.
I did not know Jim well and our paths didn't cross much the last decade or so. But there was a time when we often sat and talked at local conventions or appeared together on panels. He was a friendly, bright guy who took his work seriously…but not, I'm pleased to say, too seriously.
Here's an obit for Eric Freiwald, a prolific TV writer who also wrote or co-wrote a staggering number of comic books in his long, productive life.
Freiwald wrote an estimated 1,500 TV scripts, including thirteen seasons of the Lassie show. For a long time, most were written in tandem with his partner — who for some reason isn't mentioned in the obituary — Robert Schaefer. Their other credits included The Lone Ranger, The Gene Autry Show, Maverick, Zorro, 77 Sunset Strip, The Beverly Hillbillies and Hopalong Cassidy. Freiwald continued working in TV, mainly writing the soap opera The Young and the Restless, after Schaefer retired in 1984.
In 2007, Schaefer passed away and I wrote this item about him. It will tell you all about their work in comic books for Western Publishing. From 1957 until around 1965, the team wrote one full book of something per week for editor Chase Craig at Western. The list included comic book versions of many of the TV shows they worked on, plus Disney adaptations and even Magnus, Robot Fighter. Chase always spoke highly of their creativity and dependability.
Another one of these. Veteran TV writer Barry Blitzer has died at the age of 80 from complications relating to abdominal surgery. Barry's career dated back to the fifties. He won an Emmy in 1956 for his work on The Phil Silvers Show, meaning it's been a bad week or two for Bilko writers. He worked on Get Smart, McHale's Navy and many other sitcoms, including Gomer Pyle, USMC. He was a major writer at Hanna-Barbera for years, including work on the prime-time The Flintstones, Top Cat and The Jetsons, as well as dozens of Saturday morning shows, including the Laverne & Shirley and Happy Days cartoons.
I knew him, not as well as I would have liked, from H-B and also from work on various Writers Guild committees and projects. He was a good writer and a good man, and it's sad that we keep losing people like that.
The gent above between Sheriff Andy and Barney Fife is Aaron Ruben, who produced and sometimes directed or wrote The Andy Griffith Show. Aaron, who passed away Saturday at the age of 95, was a tireless creative talent who was responsible for some of the most beloved TV shows of several generations. The Andy Griffith Show was only one, though that alone was enough to get him into anyone's personal Hall of Fame. Others on his résumé included You'll Never Get Rich (AKA Sgt. Bilko), Caesar's Hour, Sanford and Son, Too Close for Comfort, CPO Sharkey and Gomer Pyle, USMC. Before all that, he was one of the top writers in radio, working for (among others) Fred Allen, Burns and Allen, Dinah Shore and Milton Berle.
So it kinda goes without saying that he was a genuinely witty man. What I might mention is that he was also a very kind man, who devoted much of his non-show-biz energy (and a lot of money he'd made in the industry) to helping needy children. So did his lovely actress-wife Maureen Arthur, who most of you will remember as being so wonderful in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.
Aaron was very nice to me…but then, he was very nice to everyone. You'll see that if you want to take the 4 and a half hours to watch this video interview with him. Heck, you can tell that if you watch any portion of it. Here's a link to the L.A. Times obit, as well.
We must sadly note the passing of Art Clokey, the creator of Gumby. Art died yesterday at the age of 88. He was a jolly man and I had the pleasure of meeting him a few times at animation festivals and such. An awful lot of hours and dedication went into animating the stop-motion adventures of Art's concoction, and Art seemed genuinely thrilled to meet adults who'd grown up on his little chewable creation. There sure were a lot of us. Here's the obit in the L.A. Times.
Character actor, comedian and cartoon voice actor Arnold Stang has passed at the age of 91. Arnold had an amazing career in radio, movies and TV and on the stage. He was in one of my favorite movies, It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World and he was the lead voice on one of my favorite cartoon shows when I was a kid, Top Cat. In animation, he was also the voice of Herman the Mouse in the old Herman and Katnip cartoons, and he was heard in other animation projects and in hundreds of commercials. He was, for example, the original voice of the Bee in the Honey Nut Cheerios ads. In radio, he had a long association with comedian Henry Morgan. In TV, he had a long association with Milton Berle. His other movies included The Man with the Golden Arm and the legendary Hercules in New York where he co-starred with (and provided a striking physical contrast) to the actor who would soon be famous as Arnold Schwarzenegger. He was even in the more-legendary Skidoo.
So he did an awful lot of stuff and more of it is mentioned in the New York Times obit. I can only add a personal note here…
As you can see, Arnold was in a lot of my favorite things. He was a naturally funny man and I was delighted, the one time we got to work together, to discover he was pretty much the same person off-camera as on.
It was a 1994 recording session for the cartoon series, Garfield and Friends. Ordinarily, the series was recorded wholly in Los Angeles with L.A.-based actors but the producer, Lee Mendelson, indulged me an extravagance. He let me go to New York and record a couple of episodes with talent from back there. I was there with the east coast actors while the rest of the cast was in a studio in Hollywood, the entire session connected via digital phone lines. For the day, I hired three actors I'd always wanted to work with — Arnold, Imogene Coca and Eddie "The Old Philosopher" Lawrence — and we booked a Manhattan recording studio. The studio was recommended by our L.A. recording supervisor and by coincidence, it turned out to be one where Arnold and Eddie had, decades before, recorded many Paramount cartoons.
Arnold was up first. I got to the studio an hour before he was due but, a true professional, he was already there…waiting patiently, looking for all the world like Arnold Stang. We sat and talked until the L.A. cast was in place, and the main topic was It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. Arnold was one of the few participants in that film to suffer an injury. At the hotel where the cast was staying, he slipped by the swimming pool and broke his wrist. The cast is well-concealed during the famous scene where he, Marvin Kaplan and Jonathan Winters destroy a gas station.
He was a joy to work with. The only direction I gave him — the only direction you could give a guy like that — was, "Try to sound like Arnold Stang." He did so with ease, like he'd been doing it all his life and he was perfect. He was also gracious enough to record a message for my answering machine. Click the little arrow below to hear it…
While I was recording with Arnold, Eddie Lawrence arrived. You may not know Eddie's name but he's a wonderful character actor and comedian who did a series of much-quoted records as "The Old Philosopher." His catch-phrase was, "Hey, is that's what bothering you, Bunky?" Anyway, he and Arnold were longtime pals, and when Arnold and I were done with his cartoon and he exited the booth, he and Eddie embraced.
Then Arnold looked him in the eye and sounding as serious as Arnold Stang could possibly sound, he pointed to me and said, "Eddie, don't give this young man any trouble. He's a fine director and you just do everything he says."
Eddie promised he would. That wasn't good enough for Arnold. He added, "If you give him any crap, I'll come back here and kick your ass." Then he handed me his pager number and said, "Remember…if he gets out of line, call me and I'll come back and kick his ass." This wasn't necessary but there was one moment when Eddie was giving me a little problem and I had to threaten, "I'll call Arnold." He immediately apologized and agreed to do it the way I wanted. The power of an Arnold Stang threat.
I had a limo hired for the day to pick me up, pick Eddie and Imogene up, etc. I'd offered it to Arnold to get him there but he'd declined. After his session, I told him we could have the driver take him to his next destination. He said, "No, I like to walk. You don't stay in touch with the city in the back of a limo." I remembered that. Arnold kept working well into his eighties and he sent me a Christmas card every year for a decade after that. What a charming, funny man.
Here's Naughty But Mice, the fourth Herman and Katnip cartoon, which was released on October 10, 1947. This print, by the way, sports the original opening titles which were removed when these cartoons were released to television. As you'll hear, Arnold's performance as Herman was more than enough to make the little rodent into a star character. But to me, the real star of these is Arnold…
I would be remiss if I didn't note the passing at age 88 of the extremely prolific comic book artist, Irving Tripp. I was already too remiss by not being aware that Mr. Tripp, who retired around 1983, was still with us. Tripp produced thousands of pages of fine comic art during his career, about 95% of which featured Little Lulu or the other moppets from her little world.
Lulu started life as a magazine cartoon by Marge Henderson Buell but was better known for her appearances in animated cartoons produced by Paramount Studios…and even better known for a run of Dell (later, Gold Key) comic books that were issued, beginning in 1945, in response to the popularity of those cartoons. A talented gent named John Stanley handled the conversion to the comics, writing and drawing her adventures and creating most of her supporting cast. By 1948 or '49, demand for increased frequency of Little Lulu comics was such that Stanley couldn't handle it all. The editors at Western Printing and Lithography — the firm which handled the editorial and printing work for Dell then — paired him up with one of their artists, Irving Tripp.
Thereafter, Tripp did most of the art while Stanley wrote, occasionally drawing a cover or story. Lulu scholars have been known to argue over whether certain works were drawn by Stanley or Tripp or both. Like many of the writers who worked for Western, Stanley sketched his stories out on typing paper, handwriting out the dialogue and doing rough drawings of the scenes. This has prompted some to credit the work completed by Tripp in some form like, "Layouts by Stanley, finishes by Tripp," and that may be accurate. But since in most cases, the original sketched script by Stanley is unavailable for inspection, there's no way of knowing to what extent Tripp followed Stanley's designs and placement. He probably did most of the time but perhaps not always.
Stanley burned out on Lulu around 1959 and thereafter, Tripp drew scripts by others for the book for more than twenty years. He also worked on some of Stanley's other projects for Western. In 1962 (as explained here), Western parted company with Dell and thereafter, Stanley did most of his work for Dell. Tripp occasionally worked on some of these comics, such as the Clyde Crashcup book above.
Tripp seems to have retired about the time Western stopped publishing comics so he worked for the firm for a little over 40 years, not counting several years in the Army during World War II. Someone else will have to do the math on how many pages he drew but it's a staggering total and their quality had everything to do with the enduring popularity of Little Lulu. Tom Spurgeon has more.
Quite a few e-mails have asked me, "Where's your Gene Barry obit?" I wasn't going to post one because I have no special insight or experience with Mr. Barry to share. I enjoyed him in his many TV shows and I thought he was quite good in the musical, La Cage Aux Folles. I have no idea if Mr. Barry had an ounce of gay in him but if he didn't, he did a great job of acting like he did…and if he did, he did a great job of playing one who was good at passing for straight.
I told him that the one time I met him…a brief chat at one of those Hollywood Collector Shows. We also talked a bit about the Bat Masterson and Burke's Law comic books that people were bringing to him for autographing. He hadn't seen much of them back when he was starring in those shows and was only now discovering what was in them. (I identified for him the artist he thought drew him best. It was Gene Colan.)
Pre-Masterson, Barry had been a Broadway actor and a successful one. In 1983, he startled many by returning to the stage there as one of the leads in La Cage Aux Folles. Today, it would not be risky for a "leading man" type to play gay — whether he actually was or wasn't — but back then, a lot of them would have feared damage to their reputations. The job resurrected Barry's acting career and I doubt too many thespians worry about such things these days, thanks in part to the courage of Gene Barry.
He seemed like a nice man. He had a great career. That's about all I have to say. Here's a link to a real obituary.
