lou junod death


Though of all races, the schoolchildren were mostly black and Latino, and they didn’t even approach Mister Rogers and ask him for his autograph. Photos by TriStar Pictures and WPBS-TV.

He not only looked the part, with his pinkie ring and French cuffs and blue dress shirts white at the collar, he played it, cultivating an air of danger. What’s Fact and What’s Fiction in the Gloria Steinem Biopic, writes in a recent piece for the Atlantic. We first meet Lloyd in 1998 where, as the previous year’s winner of the National Magazine Award, he’s presenting the current year’s prize.
More than the other sex symbols whose photographs unaccountably graced the walls of my parents' home, she was funny without ever trying to be. He was just a fan of betting. And yet what they could not have known is that in the end, gambling is what kept my parents together.

We may earn a commission from these links. "He doesn't know any more than you and me.". But my father "liked the sports section in the News," which meant that he liked the attention it gave to the needs of gamblers. The AFL's last stand as an independent entity in Super Bowl IV, in which Hank Stram's Chiefs portended the NFL's glorious future? By joining Slate Plus you support our work and get exclusive content. You can cancel anytime.

He did not invest; he gambled on long shots or, as he called them, "s--- stocks," with the same degree of acumen he brought to football. I was a salesman just out of college, traveling all over American roads in the cause of selling handbags to stores that would in turn sell them to American women, not unlike my father had done. Did she or didn't she? The first bookie I ever met ran a candy store in Bellmore, Long Island. "He's a tout." She wasn't my sex symbol, or my generation's, and I had no idea, growing up, that she was my father's; unlike Raquel Welch and Jayne Mansfield, he posted no pictures of her on the wall of his bar or inside the door of his closet.

That was her gift to me, no less than my father was supposedly her mother's gift to her. He spoke with an adulterer's prerogative, and yet when he spoke about—when he admitted to—having sex with Zsa Zsa Gabor, he wasn't quite speaking of adultery. That is, he slept with her. She embodied the cosmopolitan carnality of the fifties and pre-hippie sixties, and then became a joke in the talk-show seventies—a joke who never quite crossed the line of letting us know that she was in on the joke.

Tom Junod, a former Esquire staff writer, is now a senior writer at ESPN. The racetrack listings would already be marked up, subject to my father's blocky exegesis.

He was courteous and solicitous and generous, setting me up with tickets for concerts and football games and sending a check for my wedding.

But his gambling was the one secret in which we could all participate.

Subscribe today! But the story the buyer in Houston told about Zsa Zsa Gabor was different. This is all true, too. Would you just take, along with me, 10 seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are.”. Join Slate Plus to continue reading, and you’ll get unlimited access to all our work—and support Slate’s independent journalism.

Which is not to say that we lost alone. I put it this way because that's how it was put to me. Sixteen years after his death, Fred Rogers is having a bit of a moment.

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/130527054/louis-lavern-junod It was a sin that carried with it its own absolution, for it somehow made him as. What becomes, then, of its legitimacy? He liked the Steelers, but he bet against them when they played the Rams in Super Bowl XIV, because Vince Ferragamo looked like a movie star.

I put the horns on him!" They were bookies, and they had him by the balls. ", And what a ludicrous truth it was, because Zsa Zsa Gabor was a gloriously ludicrous woman.

More than that, he was making a connection through his "connections. Below, we break it all down. My father was a man of many vices and an untold number of secrets. I tend to believe that he did, given what he looked like at the time, and given that he seemed to fit the profile of men she liked.

Who was the crime against?

People thought my father was a gangster; I thought NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle was the gangster because he wore the same kind of shirts my father did and sported the same varnished tan. As Junod himself writes in a recent piece for the Atlantic, “I did not get into a fistfight with my father at my sister’s wedding.

Esquire participates in various affiliate marketing programs, which means we may get paid commissions on editorially chosen products purchased through our links to retailer sites. The first time that Vogel visits Rogers’ New York apartment, they take the train. He wanted to get away with something, and until he ran out of cash, he did -- he made people think he was a gangster when really he was just a mark. And the scene about Vogel’s childhood toy, Old Rabbit, is straight from his profile, which opens with a description of Old Rabbit.

At the end, Rogers asks the dying man to pray for him. And you'll never see this message again. He had an underworld glamour, even to his own children, and a reputation. He was betting $1,000 a week and asking me to beat a point spread whose shifts mocked my certainties and careful preparations. He scared me often to tears, and football gave me a way of talking to him without crying. What, in the end, is the difference between placing a legal bet and an illegal one, and will something irreplaceable be lost when any upstanding citizen with a few bucks and a smartphone can bet a football game ... and the promise of the connection gives way to the reality of the transaction? What was my father going to do -- show him the notes he made at the breakfast table with his stubby pencil? My father spoke to them in code. They also saw my mother trying to placate the gods of chance by hexing players with what she called "giving them the horns." The buyer must've seen this thought play out on my face because she then tried to take it all back: "I shouldn't have told you. I put it this way because that's how it was put to me. But she wasn't having any of it. All rights reserved. Photo illustration by Slate. That is, he had sex with her.

Who was the gangster behind the gangster? I was 8 years old at the time, alone in the house because my brother and sister had just gone off to college. My father wanted to live outside it, though within the borders of family. In the middle of their conversation, a group of children begin to sing “Won’t You be My Neighbor?” This, implausibly, seems to actually have happened—though while the movie might leave the viewer with the sense that Rogers regularly took the subway, the circumstances in the profile suggest this wasn’t so routine. That is, he slept with her. The new Mr. Rogers biopic A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, directed by Marielle Heller (Diary of a Teenage Girl, Can You Ever Forgive Me?) We lived on Long Island, and everybody else on our block subscribed to the Long Island Press or Newsday.

She wasn't.

"A tout's a guy who hangs around the racetrack and sells tips." His desperation is what survived him; when I cleaned out his apartment after he was gone, there was a paper trail of stocks of which I'd never heard and, spilling out of the drawers of the dresser in his bedroom, a thick mulch of lottery tickets, like the end of a ticker-tape parade.
And that was the thing: Nobody knew, not even the Jimmy the Greek.

When he said "a hundred dollars," he was betting $1,000. Last year, the documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Two years after my wedding, my parents sold their house on Long Island and moved down to Florida. Every Monday morning, the newspaper published the "Latest Line," and it kept publishing it throughout the week. Illustration by Max-o-matic. It wasn't simply that they both loved it and went to the track and later to Atlantic City as often as they could. People figured he had "connections," and he did -- his connections called our house, like old friends.

We went out for dinner, and she began telling me stories about the old man.

But what I remember, what I can't forget, was the losing. It was illegal, and it ruined him. We soon learn that he’s recently become a father, and there’s a palpable discomfort in his interactions with his wife, Andrea (Susan Kelechi Watson), and his newborn son. Charlie was trim and dapper, wore suits, and his tanned face shone as if he went to the barbershop for his shaves. But the little box of agate type, with its strange cuneiform flourishes -- "home team in CAPS" -- was all mine, and I would stare at it like a scholar until my father asked, "Who do you like? He once got my brother a job as a bouncer. When the switch was horizontal, the phone belonged to us -- calls came in and went out on "our" number, the one listed in the phone book. was a success with both audiences and critics, both of whom proved hungry to engage with his comforting legacy during this turbulent era.

Advertising is still death, of course; there were more cigarettes in the show last night than there have been since the early seasons. He exuded danger but not crookedness.

But we could talk about it.

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