“Who Ya Gonna Call?”

Monday February 24, 2014 was a sad day for me.  It was the day that an idol of mine died.  Along with a dream.

Harold Ramis passed away at the age of sixty-nine.

Too soon.

And with him went my dream that I would write a post outlining in brilliant detail exactly how much he meant to me- and every member of my generation.

And then someone would pass it along to him.

(This last was not a fantasy.  It was highly likely, in fact.  My sister-in-law, Mary Lu, knew him well, and my nephew Andrew had worked for him.  Someone would have sent it to him.)

But that’s all over now.  I waited too long to post it.

True, I knew he had been ill for the last couple of years.  But I foolishly thought I had all the time in the world to run it.  I mean, who could imagine a world without Harold Ramis in it?

So now, with a broken heart, comes the post I had outlined in my very first month of writing Letter From Elba.

Dear Mr. Ramis,

How can I ever thank you for all the joy and laughter you have brought into my life? Where would I be if I had never met the legendary Bluto, Judge Smales, and Mafia don Paul Vitti?

Not to mention Egon Spengler.  (Let me take a moment to tell you that long ago, I named my black standard Poodle “Egon” because he was brilliant- and you both had the same hairstyle.)

I also want to thank you for the copy of the script of Ghostbusters II that you signed for me.  You inscribed it “Ellen- Love and Luck.  Harold Ramis “Egon.”  I’ll cherish it until the day I die.

You had me at Animal House.  From that movie on, you changed my comedy world.  You showed me that hilarious movie anarchy did not end with the Marx Brothers and immortal comic characters did not die with W. C. Fields.

IMHO, as a writer/director you followed in the footsteps of the greatest of the great- Billy Wilder.  (If Billy Wilder had been born in Chicago and hung out with Doug Kenney.)

And you gave me so many fabulous lines and performances to remember, relish and quote, that if I were stranded on a desert island, your body of work would be the canon I would take to help me pass the years. (Assuming I got stranded with a VCR.)  I would swim to shore with:

1.   Caddyshack  I have to be honest.  This movie was owned by Rodney Dangerfield and Bill Murray.  (Who winged and ad libbed his entire madcap performance as the gopher-hating greenskeeper, Carl.)  But both of these guys were brought in- and turned loose- by you.  And a Kenny Loggins soundtrack.  Who could ask for anything more?

2.  Ghostbusters  Again, Bill Murray – the Babyboomers’ Groucho- had all the great laugh lines here.  But Egon was my favorite Buster.  “I collect spores, mold and fungus,” he told Janine, the trio’s lovelorn secretary.  And my heart.

3.  Analyze This  EVERY  line in this movie made me laugh.  Just remember Robert DeNiro’s face when he said, “F****ing Greeks!”  OMG.  Thank you.

And last, but certainly not least

4.  Groundhog Day.

I saw you discussing GD on Youtube.  How you laughed when you said devout Christians, Buddhists, Jews and psychiatrists all saw something of their own philosophy in the subtext of this film.  (Only you said it much funnier.)

You said everything much funnier.  And set a benchmark of cinematic laughs per minute that will never be equalled by any other movie-making triple threat.

I loved your cameo as “The Gift” in As Good As It Gets, btw.  And you made a wonderful ex hippie father for Seth Rogen in Knocked Up.    And where would Judd Apatow be today without you to show him the way?

By all accounts you are a mensch- as we lantzmen say.  Generous with your time and talent.  Ready to give a hand up the Hollywood ladder.

And you never forgot your roots.  No one can ever claim that you “went Hollywood” on us.  Chicago was your home sweet home.

I am your willing slave.  And if you ever need a willing slave, feel free to call me.

Best regards, Ellen Ross

Well, that’s done.  And now I’m feeling crummy.  There will never be another Harold Ramis.  And almost worse, there will never be another Harold Ramis movie.

There’s only one way to combat these blues.  I think I’ll pop in Stripes or Multiplicity or Club Paradise or hang out with the sorority sisters of the late Fawn Leibowitz.

Nope.

Too soon.