His time with the Bears was odd.  In what has to have been the greatest draft in NFL history, the Chicago Bears had two first-round selections in 1965 -- and they picked Gale Sayers and Dick Butkus, not only another Hall of Famer but considered by many the greatest linebacker in the league, but if not, at least of the five best.  The college award for best linebacker of the year is called the Butkus Award, that's how great he was.  What made it all odd, though, was that the team was absolutely awful -- yet with Sayers on offense and Butkus on defense, even as a little kid I knew enough not to miss a game or a down whether the Bears had the ball or not.  They were both too special to watch.

I remember another player on that team, too -- Brian Piccolo.  If you've never seen the TV movie (the 1971 original with a young James Caan and a young Billy Dee Williams, since they tried remaking it a few years ago), it's highly-worth checking out, just a wonderful film, and it gives a good sense of who Sayers and Piccolo were.  Here's just a hint of that.
​

​But all that aside, I have a special affection to Gale Sayers for a particular reason.

Through the first 50 years of the Chicago Bears existence, they played in Wrigley Field, after the Cubs season was over.  Though I'm a big Bears fan, have seen countless Bears games over the years on TV, and been to years and years of college games at the beloved Northwestern (where my dad had season tickets for 49 years) and UCLA, I've only been to one Chicago Bears game in person in my life.  But that one game, which was played at Wrigley Field, was not just the only time I saw the Bears play live, but it was my first professional football game ever, -- and boy, it was a doozy.  It was the game when Gale Sayers as a rookie scored six touchdowns to tie the National Football League record, which still stands.  December 12, 1965. 

​The day was pouring rain and the field was muddy, but while most everyone else was sliding all over the place, Sayers was seemingly unfazed, running free through the San Francisco 49ers defense, or what positioned itself as a defense.  The Bears won 61-20.  What isn't generally remembered is that although Sayers scored six touchdown, the team actually took him out of the game after three quarters when he had five touchdowns.  Perhaps it was because they were so far ahead, perhaps it was because of the muddy field they didn't want to risk injury.  Probably both.  In fact, they only put him in the fourth quarter, for just one single play.  A punt return.  And he ran it back for a touchdown!  His sixth, which tied the record.  Through the mud, with the opposing San Francisco 49ers slipping all over the place.  (Also notable about that rainy day is that it was also the game where the 49ers kicker, Tommy Davis, who at that point had the longest streak of kick extra points...missed.  Which is why, you'll note, that they ended up with just 20 points, not 21.

This is an affectionate video of Gale Sayers sitting down with a sports reporter and going through film of his six touchdowns.  Sayers was always a modest man (the title of his "as told to" autobiography is I Am Third), though an honest one.  And in this video you'll hear him repeatedly say, "They couldn't touch me.  They couldn't touch me."  That isn't bragging.  As you watch this video, what you'll see is that...they couldn't touch him.

For what it's worth, our seats were in the upper deck, sort of in the area of the end zone to the right, though we were a little further away, to the left.  Yes, it was up high, but we had a great view of the field and everything that took place that glorious, albeit dreary day.

I was going to end things there, on real life -- but I decided to go back to reel life, and the movie Brian's Song.  In 1969, Gale Sayers were given the George S. Halas Courage Award (named, as it happens, for Sayers' coach).  He won the award for coming back from his devastating knee injury -- a rehab he credited to being made possible by his roommate Brian Piccolo.  But though Sayers got the Courage Award, what those in the room didn't really know was the serious condition his dear friend was in, and he gave a famously moving speech, which was memorialized in the film.  But though it got edited a bit for the movie, this was basically what Sayers said in his acceptance --

And I decided to go back to the movie because I found an excerpt of the actual speech.  And as you can see, it really was Sayers.

"...He has the heart of a giant and that rare form of courage that allows him to kid himself  and his opponent --cancer. He has the mental attitude that makes me proud to have a friend who spells out the word 'courage' twenty-four hours a day, every day of his life. You flatter me by giving me this award, but I tell you that I accept it for Brian Piccolo. It is mine tonight, it is Brian Piccolo's tomorrow... I love Brian Piccolo, and I'd like all of you to love him too. Tonight, when you hit your knees, please ask God to love him."

That's Gale Sayers.  And that's only just a part of while he'll be missed.  And remembered.

Bear with me, this is worth it.

​​Back around 1995, I attended one of the funniest evenings I've ever had in the theater.  If it wasn't the funniest, the others competing with it were pretty special.  This wasn't a stage play or musical, to be fair, but basically a group discussion.  But it was in a theater, and it was about the world of entertainment, so it counts.

The evening was called Caesar's Writers, held at the Writers Guild Theatre in Beverly Hills.  It was a reunion of the writers who had worked on the two variety TV shows lead by Sid Caesar -- Your Show of Shows and Caesar's Hours.  The series were pretty close to the same:  the casts of Caesar, Carl Reiner and Howard Morris were the same, with Imogene Coca in the former having moved on with her own show and replaced by Nanette Fabray in the latter.  And the writing staffs were very similar, with a few changes here and there.

And oh, what a writing staff it was.  If you put together a list of the staff and showed it to someone without any other information, they'd probably think you had written down your Hall of Fame of comedy writers.  And no, I'm not exaggerating.  Among those who participated that evening were (and bear with me, because the list is long and the credentials longer...) --

Sid Caesar, Carl Reiner, Mel Brooks, Neil Simon, and Larry Gelbart (hey, I told you i wasn't exaggerating -- and I'm even leaving out Woody Allen, because he wasn't there that night).

​Anyway, the good news in all this is not just that there's a DVD of Neil Simon's play or that I've described a fun evening -- but that evening was recorded and edited down for a two-hour DVD...and then re-edited down further into a one-hour TV special that PBS ran during Pledge Week.  And I have a copy of that PBS broadcast here which I've embedded below.

​I told you it was worth it to bear with me.

A few final notes:

The video quality is not the greatest, but it's the material that shines through.  Also, it's interrupted a few time with pledge breaks, so you can fast-forward through those.  And it's divided into two videos.  Also, a reminder that the actual evening was almost an hour-and-a-half longer than this.  And it's not that this is The Best Material -- it was all wonderful.  This is just the great material that fit best together for a one-hour special.

A word too about why you won't see as much of Neil Simon as you might like.  First, he is famously quiet..  If you ever saw the movie, My Favorite Year, which is also based on this group and Your Show of Shows, there is character who is always whispering his joke suggestions at the writers table to the person who is sitting next to him.  That character is based on Neil Simon.  (Usually he would be seated next to Carl Reiner and telling his jokes to him.)  The other reason is more specific.  About halfway through the evening, his older brother Danny started feeling unwell and left the stage.  A minute or so later, Neil was clearly concerned, so he left to be with him.  Happily, he ended up being fine, though the two were gone for the rest of the evening.
​

For meaningless perspective's sake, just so that you can have an idea where I was so-thoroughly enjoying myself, as you are looking at the stage, I was about halfway back and off to the left against the wall.  My recollection is that I perhaps briefly can be seen, but as a sort of heads-up -- I'll be the one laughing.
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As readers may recall, I've written here  and elsewhere a few times about attending plays and concerts at the Will Geer Theatricum Botanticum, a wonderful, outdoor theatrical venue out in the Topanga National Forest.  It's a bit of a drive for me to get there, about 45 minutes, much of the way through a long and winding road (and that's not even meant as a Beatles reference), so I don't go often, but whenever I do, it's a treat.  They put on high-quality work, and the atmosphere of the full complex is a joy.

In what seem like a total non sequitor, if you watched the Democatic National Virtual Convention, you might have seen Billie Eilish present the world premiere performance of her new song, "My Future."

It turns out not to be a non sequitor at all.  I just found out that she performed the song at the Theatricum Botanicum.  It's hard to recognize, since the stage is filled with smoke and the lighting is very moody.  But once you know where it is, you can see the same wooden plank flooring and couple of steps in the back.

Here's the video for those who haven't seen it, or did but want to make the Theatricum connecticum..

I don't have anything profound to say about the police shooting in Kenosha, Wisconsin, of Jacob Blake seven times in the back.  Nor do I have anything profound to say about the murderer who wandered the streets of Kenosha with a semi-automatic AR-15 rifle, treated with gracious welcome by the police -- imagine if he'd been black -- before shooting and killing two people.  Nor do I have anything profound to say about all the sports teams who have cancelled their games in protest over the actions in Kenosha.

I'm not saying this facetiously or coyly.  I don't have anything profound to say, and most of what's been said on the news all day is far more meaningful and substantive, lead by Mr. Burke's mother (who said, among many things, that "America is great when America acts great") and sister.The only thing I have to note is a very minor personal reaction.  It's pretty close to meaningless at that, but for me it adds a personal reaction that, no matter how small, allows me to look at the shooting and events in Kenosha differently than elsewhere.  Not better, not more meaningfully, just different.

Unlike the other recent murders of black people by the police, I've been to Kenosha.  Not often, and not for a while, but enough to have a sense of the place. 

Kenosha is in the lower south east corner of Wisconsin, just across the Illinois border.  It's about a half-hour from Milwaukee, where my brother lived for a while with his first wife, and I'd visit.  The train went past Kenosha, and if  you drove up Interstate 94 it went through Kenosha.  The last time I was in the town, it was when I was back home in Glencoe, Illinois, and drove up about 50 minutes to see a minor league baseball game.  At the time, the team there was affiliated with the Minnesota Twins -- they were the Kenosha Twins.  It was a nice, little ballpark in a nice, little town. 

In fact, I was in Kenosha twice on that trip.  Really.  The second time was because I got about halfway back home when I realized I'd left behind the Kenosha Twins baseball cap that I'd bought.  And when I returned to the ballpark, the cap was still there.  No one had seen a baseball cap just laying there in an empty stadium and taken it.  That was Kenosha.

Kenosha has about 100,000 people.  So, it's not a tiny hamlet.  But it's small, with a small-town feel, a quiet and pretty residential place on Lake Michigan.  So, to see anyone shot there was surreal.  To see someone get shot in the back seven times in Kenosha was even more surreal.  To someone shot in the back seven times there by a police officer who was holding him redefined the word surreal.  To see rioting in Kenosha was otherworldly.  To see Trump push to have the National Guard sent in to Kenosha -- the National Guard -- was almost an out of body experience.  To see someone calmly wandering down the streets of Kenosha openly carrying an AR-15 semi-automatic rife and then emptying it into people took all of that and put it in a separate world that didn't previously exist.

It was also, of course, sick, infuriating, shameful, disgusting, sad and so much more.  And my reaction only touches the surface that others live with.

This wasn't Seattle or Minneapolis or name the big city, New York, Atlanta, Philadelphia, Chicago, Los Angeles, Houston, wherever.  This was Kenosha.  Yes, I know that such things have happened in small towns for many decades.  But the perspective of knowing a place and knowing its charm not only add a depth to one's personal reaction, but it also points to the larger world outside there that sets the groundwork for such things to happen.

One of my first reactions yesterday was, gee, I wonder if anyone at the Republican National Convention today is thinking, "Hmmm, maybe we shouldn't have given a featured platform to that married couple from Missouri who waved a rife and protesters and got indicted on a felony."  My second reaction was, nah, I don't think anyone at the RNC thought that.  And if they did, they kept it to themselves.

Tonight, in one of the few live speeches, so it was presented after all of these events in Kenosha took place, vice president Pence said, "We will have law and order on the streets of America."  Obviously, he was speaking to his white supremacist base about the rioting.  Lost in the sick irony of that is the reason that cause all the rioting -- and cancelled games in protest:  that a police officer shot an unarmed black man in the back seven times while holding his shirt.  How does that fit into the Pence picture of "law and order" (sic)?  How does a young man immersed in white supremacist groups and openly carrying an AR-15 rifle down the street while murdering two people fit into that Pence picture of "law and order" (sic)?  The fact that the Pence-Trump picture of "law and order" (sic) does not include white people, does not include the police murdering black people is the very foundation of the lack of law and order in the country.  Which is the definition of sick.

And to be clear, for all the Trump efforts to paint a dystopian view of the country to come in supposedly Joe Biden's America, it cannot be stated enough that ALL of these dark, bleak, tragic images of that horrible, scary America are -- in fact -- in Trump's America.

This is Trump's America.

​Kenosha used to be Small Town America.  Now?  It's in Trump's America.

And it must be added:  this is not about Trump, we know who he is.  This is about the elected members of the Republican Party who enable him, applaud him, have blood on their hands and are fully complicit.

A couple of days ago, I got an email from my cousin Diana Leviton Gondek who lives back in Naperville, a western suburb of Chicago.  I've mentioned here several times that Diana is an accomplished artist, most notably for the three fiberglass "horses" she made to honor fallen police that were displayed around the city, including outside Mayor Rahm Emmanuel's office, as well as being commissioned to do the artiwork for the 50th anniversary of the Special Olympics, which got its start in Chicago.  My own mentions aside, my favorite piece about Diana was when eShe magazine published in New Delhi, India, did a story which referred to Diana as "Famed America artist," which I told her likely came as a surprise to the estate of Jackson Pollock.  However, it did allow me to make up business cards to refer to myself as "Cousin of Famed America Artist."

The point being that it didn't come as a surprise when she offhandedly noted that "The local paper did a nice little article about me and a show I was just in."

“The local paper did a nice little article about me…”
 
When I read that, my first reaction was, ‘Oh, how nice, the Napervile Gazette wrote a little feature on her."  Even closer than eShe magazine.  Then I clicked on the link and it was the freaking Chicago Tribune!!
 
Okay, yes, fairness, it is the “local paper.”  But still.  That’s carrying modesty much too far…
 
The article is extremely good, centered on a pandemic-focused art show in Chicago called "In the Same Boat - Or Are We?"  But it singles out Diana and her work, in particular a mixed-media work of oil, colored pencil, acrylic and photography, called "Beach."

Yes, I'm utterly biased, but being as objective as I can be, it's wonderful  And just because I'm biased doesn't mean I'm wrong.  And given that it's mixed-media, I can only imagine the added layers of texture when one sees the work in person. 

(I hope you appreciate that I used one of the few "painting" words I actually know, "texture," and hopefully did so properly.)

Okay, "Naperville artist" doesn't have the same panache as "Famed American Artist," but then the Chicago Tribune is merely the "local paper," after all, so I can understand their civic pride emphasizing one of their native daughters.

(Why the reporter's credit says "Naperville Sun," I'm not sure. Perhaps the Chicago Tribune has a complementary relationship with the paper, or for all I know they may even own it, and that's who the writer works for.  But this was most definitely published in the Chicago Tribune.)

If you'd like to read the full article -- in the Chicago Tribune ​-- you can find it here.  Lots more good material in it, about the interesting-sounding show, as well as the featured artist.  Plus, when you're done, you can click over to the Sports section and read about the Cubs.  But Diana comes first.

A couple friends of mine back in Chicago -- Evanston, actually, home of the beloved Northwestern -- started an interesting online project during the pandemic. Writers Steve and Sharon Fiffer came up with the idea to solicit stories about objects that were important to the person, which the individual kept or wishes they still had, and then they post those stories a few times a week, along with providing a forum for discussion.

Steve asked me to write something for the site, called Storied Stuff, and I sent him two articles.  He posted the first one today, which you can read here.  It's about baseball cards, though not the general idea of collecting them, but rather deals with two very special cards that I still have to this day which stand out in baseball history for a particular reason.  It's a story about an event that half a century later is still galling to Cubs fans, but no doubt gives the inveterate Chris Dunn great pleasure -- what is considered the worst trade in the history of baseball, known in baseball lore as "Brock-for-Broglio."  And I have cards for the players involved from before the trade,  This is that tale.

Well, I sure had a fun afternoon. 

Like an idiot, I locked myself out out of my condo.  I was only about a foot from the door, but a wind came by and blew it closed.  It turns out that crying out, "Oh, no!!!!" doesn't help, . 

I didn't feel totally terrible, because I’d put a spare key in a little lockbox and hid it away in a nook of the apartment building – but I it turns out that lockboxes aren’t allowed here, and the bolt got cut and it was thrown out.  (I'd checked the lockbox only two weeks ago, and it was there, so obviously it was taken away only within the past 14 days -- after being there for six months.  At this point it did feel totally terrible.

I was fairly sure I'd left a spare key with a friend, though wasn't positive, and he lives a mile-and-a-half way, so I wanted to call him first to check.  But of course I didn't have my mobile phone which was locked inside.  And I couldn't even get someone to call him, since I didn't know his number, which is in the address book in the phone which was locked inside.

Normally I could drive to his place, though that would require car keys, and...well, you know the drill here.  They were inside.  

As were my face masks and hand sanitizer I carry around when I take a walk.

So, I took off the mile-and-a-half with my handkerchief as a face mask.  And fortunately my friend was in (one of the few benefits of a pandemic...), and fortunately, he had the spare key.  But wasn't sure which one it was, though I had a pretty good idea.  He also had a spare disposable face mask, way.  And so, key and face mask at the ready, I walked the mile and-a-half back.

To be clear, the three mile round-trip wasn't that problematic.  I walk a half-hour every morning, but it's more annoying when you're berating yourself for being a total idiot the whole way.

But I got back.  The key worked.  And all’s well.

Other than still feeling like an idiot.

Almost 12 years to the day (August 2, 2008) I wrote an article for the Huffington Post about the history behind Cubs fans singing Steve Goodman's song, "Go Cubs, Go" after every home game that they win.  (I re-posted the piece here on this site a few years ago.)  It's definitely not even close the prime Steve Goodman, and in fact was just written as a jingle of sort for WGN radio to lead into Cubs broadcasts.  But it's lived on to carry Steve Goodman's fame to a a generation that didn't know his work but then went back to discover it, having won Grammys for his biggest hit, "The City of New Orleans," and more, like the country hit, "You Never Call Me By My Name," which he co-wrote with his close friend John Prine, though Prine didn't want any credit for it.

A few weeks back, I got a Direct Message on Twitter from Jesse Dukes, a radio producer for the well-regarded WBEZ in Chicago, one of the first charter stations for National Public Radio.  He was working on a sort of documentary story about the history of "Go Cubs, Go," and had come across my article.  We set up a time for a phone interview, and later spoke for about 15 minutes or so.

None of the interview got included in the finished product, but that's fine because he also spoke to people who knew a lot more of the story than I did, notably author Clay Eals, who wrote the definitive 778-page biography on Steve Goodman (that I wrote about here after he contacted me about my original article) and the producer at WGN radio who actually came up with the idea for Goodman to write the song for the baseball broadcasts, .  And the finished show has now aired.  It was made for WBEZ's podcast, Curious City, and is called "The Man and the Music Behind the Baseball Ballad  'Go Cubs, Go.'"

(Very thoughtfully, Jesse Dukes does give me a totally unnecessary, but appreciated acknowledgement at the end of the broadcast.)
​
I thought that Dukes did a very nice job with his entertaining and substantive report -- which runs for an enjoyable 20 minutes..  And as far as I can tell from what I know, he got the story pretty close to right.  (I think WGN ended up using the song before the game, not just as a bumper between innings, as the piece says.)  I do feel that it starts a bit unfocused and rambling as he talks with the Curious City host, who seems not to know much on the subject.  (That's not a criticism of her, just a description.)  But a few minutes in, the story kicks in, and it's flies by from then on.  The conversation between the two ends up adding a personal quality to it all.

Here are a few additional, albeit lengthy thoughts about the broadcast before we get to the show itself:

When Clay Eals mentions Steve Goodman in high school, what got cut from the report is that one of his Class of 1965 classmates was...Hillary Clinton!  She's said that they weren't friends but she definitely knew who he was.

One thing I don't agree with Clay Eals about is his theory on why Steven Goodman didn't break out like John Prine.  It's not because he was too nice.  He was nice -- as the legendary story Eals tells shows -- but a tough guy, very determined, very driven especially knowing the leukemia life-sentence he was facing. He didn't have time to screw around and just "be nice."  (All of which does comes across very clearly in Eals' book.)  From what I know working in the entertainment industry, executives like things that are simple, easy to grasp so you can identify who someone is in one quick look.  They like stories that can be described in "Give it to me in one sentence."  They like someone who is a country singer -- or a folk singer -- or a rock musician.  But Steve Goodman was none of those, he was spread all over the place: he has songs that are folk, country, comedy, standard ballads, jazz and rock.  I just think record producers and radio stations didn't have any idea what to do with him and how to market him.

I thought it was very touching that host/producer Dukes got emotional at the end -- because it is an emotional story.  But the reason why I think the story of "Go Cubs, Go" is a "happy" ending story to Steve Goodman's life, different from what was discussed.  Most entertainers, and perhaps especially singers, get forgotten once their time on the charts, writing and performing passes.  And by all rights, as great as Steve Goodman was, he was really on the verge of being forgotten by the general public (though not remotely his fans).  But "Go Cubs, Go," not only kept him remembered, but I think also ended up bringing up new fans who wanted to look up who this guy was.  And that's a joyous ending.

Again, it's a very nice piece and well-worth listening to.  The song has a wonderful story behind it, not to mention a wonderful singer-songwriter, and it's told me.  Unfortunately, I can't embed it here, but you can get to it by clicking this link.

And for those who don't know the song, especially how it's sung with home fans at Wrigley Field after a win, here it is after Game 5 of the World Series in 2016 which the Cubs won, sending the Series back to Cleveland -- where the Cubs won the final two games to win their first World Series in 108 years.  Which is why the 41,000+ plus fans singing along with the recording of Steve Goodman are so delirious.

I ordered a book the other day, and it was being mailed to me from Oregon.  I’ve been tracking its path.  The package initially went down to Las Vegas and them arrived in Los Angeles at the USPS Distribution Center on Saturday.

Okay, that's fine.
 
But then oddly, it went to Carson on Sunday.  I live on the Westside -- Carson is southeast.  Not what I'd expect, but not a big deal.  And this morning…it’s now in Amarillo, Texas!
 
The tracking page says the package is on its way to its destination, but a) at this point, I no longer have the slightest idea what they consider its “destination,” and b) even if that means here in Los Angeles, and even if it actually gets here this evening like it says – I still don’t have a clue why it went from Los Angeles to Texas??!!!

The only thing that makes sense is how appropriate the title of the book is.  The book by Sholem Aleichman (who wrote the Tevye stories that Fiddler on the Roof is based on) is the one that was originally given to the writers of the musical to consider adapting.  They all liked it, but it's a very wide ranging story, and they weren't sure would make a good musical.  But they like it enough to look at other Sholem Aleichem stories and came across the ones with Tevye the Dairyman.  The name of this book that started it all -- and is now making its way across the United States randomly -- is...Wandering Stars.

A moment of personal privilege today.

I found out yesterday that my friend Jeff Wright passed away on Monday.  It wasn't from the coronavirus -- Jeff had gotten pounded by cancer 2-1/2 years ago and battled strongly against it, going through lots of procedures, having it come back, and fighting it again, but ultimately it was just too much.

I knew Jeff for 30 years.  We weren't in close, regular contact -- we spoke or sent emails a couple times a year, and every once in a while we would have lunch...though it was a treasured friendship that lasted for 30 years, well-worth keeping up for three decades specifically because he was an absolutely wonderful guy.  Truly nice, just gentle and selfless, decent almost to a fault.  Really.

No, really -- so decent that it genuinely was almost to a fault.  Sometimes you'd almost have to shake him silly to stop being so freaking decent.  Really.  Jeff was a very talented writer.  Years back, in the very early days of his career, he co-wrote the first draft of a screenplay with another guy I know (who we'll call Ralph).  Ralph had a touch more experience and credits, and told Jeff that it would be far beneficial to both their careers if he, Ralph, took sole credit on their draft so that when he and another highly-established writer did the second draft, Ralph's stock would rise more separately than as a team and allow him to bring Jeff along when they did their next script together.  Jeff knew it would be important for him to get credit, but with his ethereally good, selfless nature didn't want to stand in the way of the insistence of his slightly-more experienced partner, didn't want to block the project which was moving forward when the new writer got involved, and agreed on the future benefit.  (I found all this out after the fact.)  The movie got made, was moderately successful, and Jeff was paid, but deeply warm-hearted Jeff never got that boost on their next "we're partners" script together, since it never occurred,  But whenever I see the movie every time it shows up on TV -- and it periodically does -- I think of it as Jeff's script, as much as anyone's.

Okay, another screenwriting story on his decency almost to a fault, though fortunately with a better ending.  Jeff had written a lovely children's adventure screenplay and gave co-story credit to the person who typed the script.  I couldn't understand -- Jeff explained that he didn't have enough money to pay her in full what she deserved but she'd given him some feedback on the script, so he said he'd give her co-story credit.  He knew full-well that giving feedback was not even remotely writing, but...he'd given his word.  However, when I made clear that he'd never be able to use the script as a sample of his work with someone else's name also on it and kept pounding that in relentlessly against his insistence that he'd promised, he'd promised, "but I promised," he finally agreed to change the title page, worked things out with the typist and thank goodness took his proper full credit.

Happily, Jeff did get a co-writing credit on a fairly-high profile movie that made it to the theaters, though it didn't do well (long story about that...), the comedy BASEketball from David Zucker that starred Trey Parker and Matt Stone of South Park.  That was back in my dark days of PR and I did the publicity on the film -- the screenplay was a lot of fun, unfortunately the filmmakers just mucked it up trying to make a sweet PG movie into something R-rated, which they acknowledged later.

Aside from being so nice and decent, Jeff also loved baseball.  So, he gets a double-bonus on being an absolutely wonderful guy.  As I said, we didn't get together often or talk often, but it added up to a lot over 30 years, and every time we did I just felt better afterwards.  I'm just better for knowing Jeff.

The last time I saw Jeff was last year when we met for dinner at a restaurant in the Silverlake district that made Chicago-style deep dish pizza.  It also gave me the chance to finally meet his wife Laurie.  They'd married a few years back, but schedules never worked out.  Boy, did he marry well.  Just an absolutely lovely woman who Jeff adored, and who was a total, impressive, loving Rock of Gibraltar during his last very difficult couple of years.  It wasn't the proper ending, but -- sorry, I've got to use the pun because it fits too well -- it was the Wright life.

I'd met Jeff when I was hired to be the publicist on the Naked Gun films, and Jeff was working with the Zucker Bros. company.  And since they tended to put people around them in small roles of their films, Jeff was in a bunch of them.  In fact, because he'd started out as an aspiring actor before becoming a writer, he actually got lines!

And so, here he is in Naked Gun 2-1/2: The Smell of Fear.  ​Jeff plays a stock boy who comes in around the 30-second mark.

However, the walk-on role that Jeff got the most attention for came in the original The Naked Gun film -- because it involved the famous, hugely-popular sequence when Leslie Nielsen pretends to be opera singer Enrico Pallazzo and destroys singing the National Anthem.  Jeff played the Dodger Stadium usher who has to go get Signor Pallazo and bring him to the field.  That's Jeff coming down the hallway at the 2-minute mark.
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So, happily, Jeff Wright will live on in film.  But of course SO far, far, far more he will live on for his profound decency, warmth and glowing kindness in all those people who so-dearly admired and appreciated him.