Mickey Rooney died this weekend. He was a big deal from my parents generation, one of the last few surviving Hollywood movie stars.
Rooney was a member of a very small club. He could do nearly anything in show business. He sang, he danced, he acted. He played the drums. He did Broadway. He toured. He was a frequent talk show guest in the 60s and 70s.
The more people got to know him, the less starstruck they were. Make no mistake, he was exceptionally talented. He was just more talented than popular. It happens.
Mickey Rooney was best known for the Andy Hardy movies. They made 16.
Andy lived in small town America where everything was tidy and everyone was white. His father was a wise, yet warm, judge.
The Andy Hardy movies were often on daytime TV when I was a kid. These were lighthearted morality plays where the good guy triumphs in the end–always. I watched, but it was no childhood I recognized.
Rooney also did a bunch of successful musicals with Judy Garland. Later in his career he transitioned to character roles.
People were surprised to see he was only 5′ 2″.
He was married eight times. After three or four shouldn’t you understand marriage isn’t for you?
I’m trying to think if anyone’s ever been in the public consciousness longer than Mickey Rooney? Maybe not. He was a star nearly 80 years. That’s an incredible accomplishment.
Even 93 years isn’t enough, is it?
