Last Sunday, Marshal Latham contacted me to offer his condolences at the loss of Richard Simmons. Huh, I thought. The next day, Big contacted me to ask why I hadn't done a blog post memorializing Simmons. After all, he died on my birthday.*
Years ago, when I first moved out to L.A., the only work I could get (not unlike today, I suppose) was extra work (which I enjoyed, don't get me wrong). But the lowest rung on the ladder of extra work was being an audience member on a talk show or game show. They would pay you to sit and applaud for the taping of the show, and then you'd either sit for another episode, or drive home, knowing that what you made today would barely feed you for the next twenty-four hours.
I did audience work for shows hosted by Craig Kilborn, David Allan Grier, Alan Thicke, and Roseanne Barr (oh, and "Win Ben Stein's Money"), and one day, I was booked to sit in the audience for "The Richard Simmons Show." Now, everybody knew Richard Simmons from the Eighties, but always more of a punchline than a real celebrity. He was so odd and flamboyant, like Liberace in short-shorts, but a very positive person, who helped fat people become less fat, probably by the millions.
I sat in the audience and was struck by how sincere he was, happy to have a show, and eager to use his little forum to brighten folks's day. His first guest was Michael York, there to promote the second AUSTIN POWERS (everyone in the audience got a--get this--free VHS copy of the first movie, which I already had on DVD), and his second guest was an unwell civilian woman who Richard had helped feel better about herself.
Big Anklevich remembered me telling him that I was moved to tears by her story, so, at the end of the show, when Richard Simmons stood there and asked who in the audience wanted to hug him . . . I ran up and did so. Yes, I made fun of the fact that he was oily and in a tanktop, but I had been genuinely impressed by his exuberance and decency, and from that point on, when I made fun of Richard Simmons, I did it with affection.
So, the man slipped from the public eye for the last few years, alarming some (I vaguely remember standing in front of a People magazine with the headline What Happened To Richard Simmons? in 2020 or so), and the last I heard from him was when it was announced that--ugh--Pauly Shore wanted to play him in a biopic.
He died at the age of seventy-six, from natural causes. And I hope he was remembered for his sparkling personality and big heart, as well as his oddness and camp appeal.
As foul and obnoxious as Pauly Shore is, he's no Richard Simmons. Richard Simmons was one of a kind.
*Can you imagine if some celebrity you loved died on your birthday (although, technically, Lon Chaney Jr. did)? Conversely, can you imagine if a celebrity you HATED died on your birthday?
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