Another bastion of childhood idolatry meets his maker. Evel Knievel passed away yesterday at the ripe old age of 69, decades older than his lifestyle would’ve seemed to dictate. Knievel left behind a plethora of progeny and a cult of personality that will likely be the subject of American Studies courses for centuries to come. While his son has Robbie arguably evinced more talent as a motorcyclist, nobody touches Evel in terms of raw showmanship. After retiring in the he kept financial flush over the years by licensing his name and likeness to everything from pinball machines to beach towels to the downright bizarre. There’s even a certain amount of poetic parody to one particular deal inked later in life. Bottom line: he knew how to make and maintain a buck. But to a kid growing up in the early to mid-70s, that cultivated business savvy hardly mattered a whit. Far more important was the temerarious willingness to risk life and limb with full awareness of the probability of coming away the worse for it. However cloudy and compromised the conduit, that lesson in courage is carried by many to this day. Here’s too you, Evel!
Posted by derek on December 1, 2007 12:06 PMRough, Jerome Bryerton and I shared a birthday with him.
Posted by: damon Smith at December 1, 2007 4:15 PMI saw Evil at Madison Square Garden in '73. One of the high points of my early years. This was right around the time of the "Evil Knievel" bio-pic with George Hamilton as Evil and Sue Lyon as his wife.
RIP
Posted by: Clay Fink at December 1, 2007 4:43 PMWow, an enigma. While he wasn't a hero, he sure captured the attention of thousands of little kids in his prime, including mine.
An aside, Robbie is a real creep. My wife and I and my sisters in law were gambling at the 7 Cedars Casino, in Sequim, WA. I went with one of the girls to scout a poker table and later turned around to see my wife eyeballing me from across the room (get over here). Some dude was talking to her, clearly a bit sauced, but sober enough to have been hitting on my wife for what she said was a very peculiar and particularly uncomfortable 10 minutes. I walked back over to find myself face to face with Robbie Fucking Knievel. There are many ways to go about such a situation, and I chose one of the more aggressive ones.
Knievel: Well, hello and hello. You're not with her?
Al: Yes.
Knievel: Oh well for you, haha, right? What's your name again?
Wife: ...
Al: I will hurt you in creative ways. You are shithoused. Please haul ass.
Knievel: ... Fucker. (walks away)
Girls: that was awesome. What an asshole.
I shit you not.
Posted by: al at December 1, 2007 5:45 PMYou da man, Namor. From what I've read & understand the Knievel apple doesn't fall far from the Knievel tree. In such situations I find it helpful to exercise the Miles Principle to whatever degree possible: a jerk-off in person sometimes being a genius in vocation.
That anecdote kicks ass, but it would've been ten degrees cooler if you'd busted a craps claw across Robbie's oggling mug.
Posted by: derek at December 2, 2007 6:35 AMChristmas!!
Posted by: Jason at December 2, 2007 7:50 AMHere's a fun and well-written blog post on Knievel by my friend Phil Nugent. Stop by his spot often; it's almost always worth it.
Posted by: pdf at December 4, 2007 8:30 AM.................................................. © 2003 - 2006 bagatellen ..................................................
