Former teen idol David Cassidy dies at 67

Discussion in 'The Newsroom' started by Outlaw, Nov 21, 2017.

  1. Outlaw

    Outlaw Co-Founder/Former Co-owner Staff Member

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    cassidy.jpg
    David Cassidy, the teen and pre-teen idol who starred in the 1970s sitcom ‘‘The Partridge Family’’ and sold millions of records as the musical group’s lead singer, died Tuesday at age 67.

    Cassidy, who announced earlier this year that he had been diagnosed with dementia, died surrounded by his family, a family statement released by publicist JoAnn Geffen said. No further details were immediately available, but Geffen said on Saturday that Cassidy was in a Fort Lauderdale, Florida, hospital suffering from organ failure.

    ‘‘David died surrounded by those he loved, with joy in his heart and free from the pain that had gripped him for so long,’’ the statement said. Thank you for the abundance and support you have shown him these many years.’’

    ‘‘The Partridge Family’’ aired from 1970-74 and was a fictional variation of the ‘60s performers the Cowsills, intended at first as a vehicle for Shirley Jones, the Oscar winning actress and Cassidy’s stepmother. Jones played Shirley Partridge, a widow with five children with whom she forms a popular act that travels on a psychedelic bus. The cast also featured Cassidy as eldest son and family heartthrob Keith Partridge; Susan Dey, later of ‘‘L.A. Law’’ fame, as sibling Laurie Partridge and Danny Bonaduce as sibling Danny Partridge.
     
  2. oneleggedwonder

    oneleggedwonder Drawing Blood

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    Sad day. At least he is not suffering anymore, he had dementia.
     
  3. elemental

    elemental -- --- -.. . .-. .- - --- .-. Staff Member

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    All that coke he did caught up to him.
     
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  4. Starkiller1125

    Starkiller1125 DA's Firearm Savant

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    That would've been a good stab towards Grace Slick. Her septum deviated multiple times due to insufflating substances.
     
  5. Shinigami

    Shinigami Drawing Blood

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    Or John Belushi.
     
  6. UKfullofstooges

    UKfullofstooges Death Head

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    another alcoholic who could not stop drinking.. next stop organ failure. Just like george best. So many die an alcoholic death, and talent and money and social standing make no difference.. reminds me of this poem

    Drunks
    We died of pneumonia in furnished rooms
    where they found us three days later
    when somebody complained about the smell
    we died against bridge abutments
    and nobody knew if it was suicide
    and we probably didn’t know either
    except in the sense that it was always suicide
    we died in hospitals
    our stomachs huge, distended
    and there was nothing they could do
    we died in cells
    never knowing whether we were guilty or not.

    We went to priests
    they gave us pledges
    they told us to pray
    they told us to go and sin no more, but go
    we tried and we died

    we died of overdoses
    we died in bed (but usually not the Big Bed)
    we died in straitjackets
    in the DTs seeing God knows what
    creeping skittering slithering
    shuffling things

    And you know what the worst thing was?
    The worst thing was that
    nobody ever believed how hard we tried

    We went to doctors and they gave us stuff to take
    that would make us sick when we drank
    on the principle of so crazy, it just might work, I guess
    or maybe they just shook their heads
    and sent us places like Dropkick Murphy’s
    and when we got out we were hooked on paraldehyde
    or maybe we lied to the doctors
    and they told us not to drink so much
    just drink like me
    and we tried
    and we died

    We drowned in our own vomit
    or choked on it
    our broken jaws wired shut
    we died playing Russian roulette
    and people thought we’d lost
    but we knew better
    we died under the hoofs of horses
    under the wheels of vehicles
    under the knives and boot-heels of our brother drunks
    we died in shame

    And you know what was even worse?
    was that we couldn’t believe it ourselves
    that we had tried
    we figured we just thought we tried
    and we died believing that we hadn’t tried
    believing that we didn’t know what it meant to try

    When we were desperate enough
    or hopeful or deluded or embattled enough to go for help
    we went to people with letters after their names
    and prayed that they might have read the right books
    that had the right words in them
    never suspecting the terrifying truth
    that the right words, as simple as they were
    had not been written yet

    We died falling off girders on high buildings
    because of course ironworkers drink
    of course they do
    we died with a shotgun in our mouth
    or jumping off a bridge
    and everybody knew it was suicide
    we died under the Southeast Expressway
    with our hands tied behind us
    and a bullet in the back of our head
    because this time the people that we disappointed
    were the wrong people
    we died in convulsions, or of “insult to the brain”
    we died incontinent, and in disgrace, abandoned
    if we were women, we died degraded,
    because women have so much more to live up to
    we tried and we died and nobody cried

    And the very worst thing
    was that for every one of us that died
    there were another hundred of us, or another thousand
    who wished that we would die
    who went to sleep praying we would not have to wake up
    because what we were enduring was intolerable
    and we knew in our hearts
    it wasn’t ever gonna change

    One day in a hospital room in New York City
    one of us had what the books call
    “a transforming spiritual experience”
    and he said to himself

    I’ve got it
    (no you haven’t you’ve only got part of it)

    and I have to share it
    (now you’ve ALMOST got it)

    And he kept trying to give it away
    but we couldn’t hear it
    the transmission line wasn’t open yet
    we tried to hear it
    we tried and we died

    We died of one last cigarette
    the comfort of its glowing in the dark
    we passed out and the bed caught fire
    they said we suffocated before our body burned
    they said we never felt a thing
    that was the best way maybe that we died
    except sometimes we took our family with us

    And the man in New York was so sure he had it
    he tried to love us into sobriety
    but that didn’t work either, love confuses drunks
    and he tried and still we died
    one after another we got his hopes up
    and we broke his heart
    because that’s what we do

    And the very worst thing of all was that every time
    we thought we knew what the worst thing was
    something happened that was even worse

    Until a day came in a hotel lobby
    and it wasn’t in Rome, or Jerusalem, or Mecca
    or even Dublin, or South Boston
    it was in Akron, Ohio, for Christ’s sake

    A day came when the man said I have to find a drunk
    because I need him as much as he needs me

    (NOW
    you’ve got it)

    And the transmission line
    after all those years
    was open
    the transmission line was open

    And now we don’t go to priests and doctors
    and people with letters after their names
    we come to people who have been there
    we come to each other
    and we try
    and we don’t have to die.
    Drunks/Recovery - Jack McCarthy
     
    Starkiller1125 likes this.
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