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Fess Parker died in 2010. Here is a remembrance of him that appeared in the NY Times, written by Verlyn Klinkenborg. "I don't remember a single episode of "Davy Crockett" nor did I own a coonskin cap. As for the famous theme song, it tends to wander away on it's own, erratically, once it gets rolling in my head. But I remember Fess Parker. Any account of masculinity, for a certain generation, is incomplete without Mr. Parker, who died last week at age 85. In my memory, he embodies an inexplicable authenticity. This was not just the naivete of a child viewer, unaware of how TV shows were made or coonskin caps sold. It was something inherent in Mr. Parker.
Partly, I think, it was the angularity of the man, who seemed as lean as his flintlock rifle. And it was the way his right eye seemed to be slipping downward as his wry smile slipped upward. He had a solid frontier squint that every kid I knew tried to imitate when we looked into the faraway. What tied it all together was Mr. Parker's voice, less Tennessee than Texas and carrying an astounding freight of respectability for such a soft backwoods twang. Whatever else he was to American lore, Davy Crockett was always Fess Parker. Reading his obituary, I realized that I have a Fess Parker theory of the universe. He is said to have been unhappy at not being allowed to act for John Ford or with Marilyn Monroe, because of his relationship with Disney. But we live in a universe in which a Parker-Monroe pairing is simply possible onscreen. It would have annulled the Fess-ness that made him Davy Crockett to so many children. I've been tempted to go back and watch "Davy Crockett" once again. But to do that, I would have to be terribly young again myself." (End quote)
Parker served in the Navy in WW2 and has a simple coonskin cap engraved upon his tombstone.
Partly, I think, it was the angularity of the man, who seemed as lean as his flintlock rifle. And it was the way his right eye seemed to be slipping downward as his wry smile slipped upward. He had a solid frontier squint that every kid I knew tried to imitate when we looked into the faraway. What tied it all together was Mr. Parker's voice, less Tennessee than Texas and carrying an astounding freight of respectability for such a soft backwoods twang. Whatever else he was to American lore, Davy Crockett was always Fess Parker. Reading his obituary, I realized that I have a Fess Parker theory of the universe. He is said to have been unhappy at not being allowed to act for John Ford or with Marilyn Monroe, because of his relationship with Disney. But we live in a universe in which a Parker-Monroe pairing is simply possible onscreen. It would have annulled the Fess-ness that made him Davy Crockett to so many children. I've been tempted to go back and watch "Davy Crockett" once again. But to do that, I would have to be terribly young again myself." (End quote)
Parker served in the Navy in WW2 and has a simple coonskin cap engraved upon his tombstone.