Ed Asner and I at the performance of "A Man and His Prostate" on July 22, 2021.
Originally published in the Pottsville Republican-Herald on August 31, 2021.
“Most of your lines you deliver, carry the weight of honesty that people recognize. The other 10% is the surprising tilt you give to a particular line, which your average citizen would not have done. And maybe down to 6% or 5% percent, whatever, it just might happen, and it gives it its stamp of originality.” — Ed Asner, talking about his craft while sitting in the Majestic Theater, Pottsville
Ed Asner, the legendary film and television actor who called me a weakling after I shook his hand, died Sunday at the age of 91. Do I even need to list his credits?
The man won seven acting Emmys, more than any man in history, for playing Lou Grant in “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” and its spinoff series “Lou Grant.”
In his later career he shifted to voice work, giving a tender and heartrending performance as Carl Fredricksen in Pixar’s “Up,” one of the most memorable characters ever in animated film.
He was married twice, played Santa Claus at least 10 times, and, most significantly, visited Pottsville once.
At the time of his death, Asner was touring small towns across America in two different stage productions. His schedule was rapid-fire, and I believe that this love of performing, no matter the size of the role, venue or audience, is what kept him alive for so long.
On July 22, Asner played Pottsville’s Majestic Theater in “A Man and His Prostate,” a one-man show written to raise awareness of prostate cancer. It’s fitting that Asner, president of the Screen Actors Guild from 1981 to 1985 and lifelong supporter of unions, gave one of his last performances in Pottsville, a place with a long history of organized labor.
I got to interview Asner before the show, and I will never forget our conversation. When we shook hands, he was surprised at how firm I was.
“I took you for a weakling,” he said.
That evening, we both learned that appearances can be deceiving.
He told me it was his first time in Pottsville, and it could be his last. It was a joke, but at the same time it wasn’t. Even at 91, he had a sharp wit and incredible way with words. He responded to every question with a witty remark or poetic reflection on art and life. He said he wanted to live to be as old as his siblings, who survived well into their 90s. He said that during the coronavirus pandemic, which cut him off from his beloved stage, he “pondered the stars.”
Even when interacting with the Majestic stage crew, he was playing a character, the cynical world-weary old man that everyone expected him to be, that entertained everyone. The show never ended, and he loved every second of it. He described acting as “showing your flesh out there to watch it hacked to pieces by the savages around you.” The scars were starting to show.
Despite his mental acuity being greater than most people half his age, he was in physical decline. When that happens, we tend to sidestep the issue, throw out cliches like “not in the best shape” or “getting up there in years.” In our interview, and throughout his life and career, Asner shoved such cliches aside. He never sugarcoated or ignored the truth as he saw it. He played every part with honesty, on stage and off.
When I interviewed him, I was speaking to a man who was clearly aware of his own mortality, and was determined to continue doing what he loved until the end.
“I mind the stairs,” he said, “but I can handle it.”
If only we could all have such bravery, such acceptance, such love of life, when facing the inevitable. He even had a sense of humor about it.
At the end of our interview, Asner cracked a joke about my admittedly shaggy haircut: “I’m glad I’m not your barber — I’d have to charge you double!”
It was an honor.
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