To say that I am saddened and stunned by the loss of my friend Taylor Negron is an understatement. I was just texting with him four days ago. The last lengthy message I got was just before Christmas-- "Dear son. Can't wait to see happy Christmas.to you. We can have a quite luncheon in the begging of year. When I am styled in my la apt." Taylor was always good to me--unlike the craven show biz steretotype, he never looked to get anything from me except good conversation and friendship, and I never, ever had a cross word with him. He was also very well-read ("I read more than the average bear," he used to say), which counts for a LOT. For some reason, our conversations always seemed to drift toward early 20th century theater--he was Ruth Etting's biggest fan.
We hung out in New York (he gave me a linen shirt there) and L.A. whenever we could make our schedules mesh. This photo was taken at a friend's house in Silver Lake after a grilled shrimp dinner.
For a guy who excelled at deadpan humor, Taylor wore his emotions on his sleeves like a little kid in a very winning way. I have so many good memories of him--going to an art exhibit with him, Heather Sterman, and Amy Heckerling. Singing "Anything Goes" with him in an LA hat shop, to the shopgirl's confused glee. Listening to him and his performing partner Logan Heftel sing their song memorializing Robin Williams in Taylor's apartment. It was the only time I ever saw Taylor tear up.
I will miss his utterly unique comic turns of phrase, delivered in his classic deadpan mode: "I would rather be stuck in a cul-de-sac with a slavering llama." When I spooned a bit too much jam into my oatmeal when we were having brunch, he warmly chided me: "Do you know how sugary that is? What are you--a diabetic Joan Blondell at the automat?"
He cared about me, and I cared about him. And that's what matters.
Love you, Taylor. I'm gonna miss you.
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