I have seen Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein The night I found out my daughter had died. I cried all night until I was exhausted. My voice was hoarse, my body was numb, I was restless, I couldn’t sleep. Instead I turned to my childhood favorites, nostalgic for better days and comforting familiarities. It was January 16th, 2015. Jess was 26 years old.
After the death of my only son, clear thinking was disturbingly rare, and concentration was hallucinatory. I re-examined my Abbott and Costello collection: movies, TV shows, old radio shows. A friend assured me this was healthy and valuable. “They give you comfort,” he said. What form such comfort takes is less important, I think, than that it exists at all.
Costello also lost a child, and this is his story.
I was writing about mummy movies recently and Abbott and Costello meet the mummy (1955). I once told Jess that this movie wasn’t very good compared to her other movies, but she loved ancient Egypt as much as I did. that “Sorry, Dad,” she said, “It’s because of the moms!”
Bud Abbott and Lou Costello may be forgotten about on Saturday morning TV, but they weren’t always that way. In the 1940s, they were the most popular comedy duo in film and radio. Their uncanny wordplay and impeccable timing still resonate to this day. Jerry Seinfeld Hold them up as role models for aspiring manga artists. Carol Burnett Abbott says it was great. Straight Man In business.
Private Buck, In the Navyand Catch a GhostThese films were huge hits when they were released in 1941. Only three movies He rescued Universal Pictures from the brink of bankruptcy. We’ve been watching Abbott and Costello monster movies for a while now. Meet Frankenstein (1948) recaptures the brilliance of his earlier work.
Costello is Meet Frankenstein The script was great, but my family and the audience loved it. Variety On June 25, 1948, the film was hailed as “a riot of gags, at once funny and spine-chilling.” It became the third highest-grossing film worldwide that year, and today holds the Motion Picture Association of America’s 100th Best Picture Award. The 100 Funniest American Movies of All TimeThis work has stood the test of time and is known as “the greatest horror comedy of all time.” [that] “It still works beautifully.” Leonard Maltin Film director John Landis “It’s just as funny now as it was back then,” claims author and pop culture historian. Roy ThomasPerhaps best known for his work on the Avengers, X-Men and Conan series, he called the film simply, “One of my favorite movies!”
Shortly after my daughter died, I came across Costello’s biography. Loose on FirstIt was written in 1981 by the comedian’s daughter, Chris. Coincidence? Maybe. Frederick Buechner As he points out, at what point does believing in coincidences take more effort than accepting obvious facts? For me, picking up this book is a reminder that God and Jess are watching over me. In this book, I learn amazing things.
Costello also lost a child, and this is his story.
Lou was in good spirits for his evening broadcast on November 4, 1943. He had recently recovered from a long bout of rheumatic fever; this was his first appearance in months. Also, two days later the family would be celebrating the first birthday of their son, Lou Jr., whom they had named Little Butch.
“Keep Butch awake tonight,” Lou told his wife, Ann, on the way to NBC studios in Hollywood, “so I can see if they can recognize my voice on the air.” He planned to do some of the quirky, comical voices his son loved.
Later that day, Little Butch drowned in the Costello family’s swimming pool.
Lou’s longtime manager, Eddie Sherman, received the solemn phone call and immediately drove Costello home. “Lou was devastated,” Sherman recalled. “It felt like his world had fallen apart.”
As word spread, calls came in from Mickey Rooney, Lana Turner and many other stars offering to fill in for Lou on the air, but the grieving father declined. “I promised Little Butch he’d hear me tonight,” Lou told Sherman. “No matter where God takes him, I know he’ll hear me. I want to keep my promise.”
The show was standard Abbott and Costello fare, though perhaps a little more tense than usual. Lou collapsed into a chair onstage, exhausted, near the end of the show. It took only a moment for the studio audience to notice, and Bud stepped out of character to announce the death to radio listeners: “Faced with the greatest tragedy that can happen to a human being, Lou Costello performed again tonight.” He said“I want to take this opportunity to pay tribute to my best friend and the bravest man I’ve ever seen,” he said, fighting back tears.
The next few days were agonizing for the bereaved father. Lou told himself that he wasn’t home when his son needed him. He was plagued by self-doubt, self-blame and self-reproach.
“The more we suffer, the more we want to heal others.”
Little Butch’s funeral was held on the boy’s birthday, November 6th. Tears silently streamed down Lou’s cheeks. The platitudes of well-meaning friends had no effect. During the funeral, the priest assured them that Butch was now with God. Somehow, these words resonated with Lou in a way that other words of comfort had not. Lou held his head up, sat straighter in his seat, and for the first time felt that his son’s death was not his fault.
This moment was not the end of Lou’s story. His grief would continue for the rest of his life. His marriage suffered, but they persevered. It was during the Christmas holidays, a year after Little Butch’s death, that the family finally found a modicum of laughter and love returned, but now with added patience and a sense of shared grief.
Lou carried his grief with him for the rest of his life. Friends noticed he had become a different person: short-tempered and volatile at times, but also surprisingly sensitive, caring and personable. For years, Lou wore a bracelet with his son’s name on it. It was welded in place and could not be removed; makeup artists at the studio were forced to cover it up. “Butch’s death clouded everything he did in life after that,” says Lou’s daughter, Chris.
Some people noticed a change in Costello.
Carol Burnett, a parent herself, finds melancholy in Lou’s performances from the late ’40s and early ’50s. “I was especially attached to Costello,” she says, not just because he often played the underdog, but also because of his natural talent for blending comedy and tragedy. “Mourning and grief may seem far apart, but they’re not,” she adds. “Underneath it all there was this nuanced layer of emotion. tragedyLou might have agreed.
“I asked myself, ‘Why did this happen to me?'” Costello admitted years after Little Butch’s death. His mind was always on his son; every little boy he saw reminded him of the future he and Butch would never share. “My heart was filled with sadness,” Lou wrote. “I will never know how I managed to be the funny guy in the pictures and on the radio.”
Popular TV Shows This is your life The show featured Costello on November 21, 1956, and devoted 10 minutes of its 24-minute airtime to Little Butch’s death, taking up nearly half the episode. “Lou, you continued to make the world laugh, even as your heart was breaking,” host Ralph Edwards said. “The more you suffered, the more you wanted to bring healing to others.”
In 1946, Bud, who was godfather to Lou and Little Butch, Established They founded the Lou Costello Jr. Youth Foundation. Then, on May 3, 1947, they opened a recreation center that bears Butch’s name. “All who come here are created equal,” read one of Butch’s notable mission statements in the 1940s. “Equal privileges will be accorded to all without regard to race, color or creed.”
Within two years, the foundation had given 10,280 young people free access to sports facilities, libraries, workshops and classrooms. Doctors and dentists provided free vitamins, food and medical care to those in need. There was even a full-sized swimming pool. “In memory of Little Butch,” said the host. This is your life“Hundreds of boys and girls have had their lives saved by learning to swim.” At the same program, seven young members of the recreation center presented Lou with a watch they had all pooled their money to buy for him. The inscription read, “Thank you for sharing your life with us.”
of Lou Costello Jr. Recreation Center It continues to serve the youth of Los Angeles today, and a portrait of Little Butch hangs in the main foyer.
Sometime after his son’s death, Costello invented the first commercial ice machine, which by the late 1950s had become a common accessory in American homes. The profits from loose ice cube makers were: Patents It was a vital source of income for the family. The comedian’s personality may surprise moviegoers, but his daughter Chris doesn’t. “He loved electronics, he loved technology,” she says. sayHe added that if he were to see a modern DVD player, his first reaction would be: “That’s it! I need to buy one of those..
Costello is Heart attack February 26, 1959. A few days later, on March 3, Eddie Sherman stopped by, they shared jokes and quiet laughs. Then, minutes after Ann left the room, Lou had a second stroke. He died that afternoon, three days before his 53rd birthday. “Oh my God, what can I say,” Bud cried upon hearing the news. “It breaks my heart. I’ve lost my best friend.”
A requiem mass was held for Lou on March 7. Nine months later, on December 5, Ann died at age 47. They now rest near Little Butch in Los Angeles Calvary Cemetery.
I’m watching Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein Again. It’s funny, it’s silly, it’s fun. But amid the clever wordplay, slapstick gags, and sweet humor, there’s an undercurrent of sadness in Lou’s eyes. I didn’t know Little Butch the night I learned of his daughter’s death, and yet when I chose this movie, I felt something more than comforting nostalgia. Perhaps I also felt a sense of empathy.
“Every time I act in a movie or on television, I think that someone might be watching me in their midst,” Lou said late in life. “If I can help people forget their troubles, even for just a moment, then I feel that my life has been worth living.”
