The Great One(s)

I've been sort of half-trying to watch this Jackie Gleason made-for-TV semi-bio on CBS this evening. Somehow, I just can't get into it; I know, I just dead-solid know, that they're going to screw it up. And that would just break my heart. So maybe I'll just write about him instead. Maybe that'll help.

See, it's like this: my whole life, or the sentient parts of it anyway, I've aspired to be what for lack of a better term I'll call a Badass. I can't say a "man's man" because it just doesn't work. And "guy's guy" sounds like some sweater-wearing dweeb in a "What Sort Of Man Reads Playboy" ad, giggling inanely because he just bowled a gutter ball and his girlfriend just spilled her O'Douls down the neck of her 700-dollar shirt. So Badass it is. No, I don't mean the sort of half-intelligent bare-knuckled man-ape generally conjured up by the word; I mean something else entirely.

I'm thinking more along the lines of the kind of man Gleason was, onstage and in life too. The kind of guy who is always having a good time, unflappable, cool as some cucumbers (as Wodehouse always said), sharp, suave, knowing, confident; the kind of man who can pull off a Brioni suit and Italian loafers or a pair of jeans and engineer boots with equal aplomb, the kind of guy who walks into a room and, as the old joke goes, the guys want to be him and the women want to do him. The kind of guy who's humane enough to be polite to a street bum and tough enough to kick his ass if he cracks wise to the beautiful woman on his arm. The kind of guy who is equal parts elegance and earthiness, who knows both the proper way to decant a fine cognac and the proper way to sink the eight-ball in a tough joint for all the money, and who knows why that sort of knowledge matters. The kind of guy who catches everyone's eye without ever trying, and the kind of guy nobody really resents for it. The kind of guy who always has the mot juste on the tip of his tongue and the wit to know when to say it, and when not to. The kind of guy who's smart enough to know when it's okay to act stupid. I always tried to be that guy, and I think I might even have been successful at it. Once, maybe twice, for no more than five minutes at a time, my whole life.

Article Author: Mike Hendrix

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