Mickey Rooney has been famous for longer than most of us have been alive.
I haven’t checked the actuary tables for proof of that, but Rooney, who died Sunday at 93, made his first stage appearance when he was 17 months old and made his first movie when he was 6, so I’m pretty confident in the claim. In 1937 he began playing Andy Hardy, and that’s when his star was truly born. The role would define his career for decades, not always to his liking. No one likes being typecast, and because of his slight stature — he was 5-foot-3 — Rooney would be cast in juvenile roles long after he had outgrown them. But the movies made him rich and famous, though both of those descriptions would come and go over the ensuing decades.
Like Shirley Temple, who died earlier this year, he helped lighten the nation’s spirits during the Depression, no small thing. He made 10 films with Judy Garland, and I found myself telling my kids that they invented the whole “Let’s put on a show!” motif. Again, no small thing.
Rooney would struggle to find decent roles over the years, when his status as a once-famous actor ran neck and neck with his marital life — he got married eight times, including to Ava Gardner, his first wife — to keep him in the public eye. But the imprint he made on the popular culture was so impactful that he was always kind of around.
My experience of Rooney was somewhat unique. Before I was a movie critic, I was a television critic, and in 2005, at the Television Critics Association’s twice-a-year gathering in California to meet the stars and producers, etc., PBS gathered together some serious legends of early TV for an interview session.
It turned quickly into something else.
Among the group was Rooney, along with Red Buttons. For whatever reason, the two of them started going after each other, in something just a hair past a friendly way. Buttons was on the offensive, making fun of Rooney for everything — his age, the age of his much younger eighth wife, whatever he could think of. Rooney gave back as good as he got, and it was tremendous. About 30 seconds into it, it was clear what made these people famous. They could bring it. They were in their 80s, and they were cracking wise with a quickness and wit that seemed impervious to aging. This was genius at work, and we knew we were lucky to see it.
RIP, Mickey Rooney. And thanks for the laughs.
Article source: http://www.azcentral.com/story/billgoodykoontz/2014/04/07/mickey-rooney-goodyblog-goodykoontz/7406119/