David Carradine’s
Americana is discussed in
this RightWingTrash entry. It also mentions the actor’s fine work as an ersatz Chuck Norris in 1986’s
P.O.W.: The Escape. The troubled actor’s last big moment was another conservative caper. It was at a recent screening of his Woody Guthrie biopic
Bound for Glory, where a rambling Carradine outraged the Hollywood audience by complaining about the damage caused by labor unions.
That was probably a moment worth cheering. A lot of people have stories about other bizarre behavior from Carradine, and you’ll be hearing a lot of them now that the actor
has passed away—seemingly a suicide—in Bangkok.
I had seen weird behavior from Carradine in the past few years, but it was more quirky than confrontational. Right now, I’m remembering the bar of a Midtown hotel on a Thursday afternoon in the ’90s. Carradine and I were the only people there, and we were talking about music. The initial topic was the
Americana soundtrack. Then we talked about The Carradine Brothers Band, his solo work as a recording artist, and many (mostly) forgotten songwriters of the ’60s and ’70s. I’ve had to endure a lot of bad conversations about music. The good ones are kind of special.
Carradine was putting on his coat at the end, and asked me to walk over a few blocks to where he was picking up some cigars. “You know,” he said, “we’ve been here for over two hours, and the only thing we’ve talked about was music.”
This wasn’t an interview. I just figured the guy had a lot to say about music. I reminded Carradine that I’d initially said that was my main interest in talking to him.
“Yeah,” mused Carradine, “but I didn’t think you meant it.”
Then we headed outside, where I learned that Carradine was more of a sex symbol than people thought. Women were very happy to see him. Carradine seemed to have lots of reasons to be a happy guy. It’s certainly too early to make assumptions about his death, and there aren’t many ways to put a positive spin on suicide. Still, it’d seem reasonable to rank Carradine alongside Phil Ochs and Jerzy Kosinski as men who just wanted to die on their own terms.
