Bob Newhart: In praise of a brilliant comedian and decent man worthy of a statue
The American landscape is dotted with statues and sculptures of some of the most iconic characters in TV history on their home turf, from Jackie Gleason as Ralph Kramden at the New York Port Authority Bus Terminal to Mary Tyler Moore as Mary Richards in Minneapolis to Andy Griffith and Ronny Howard as Andy and Opie Taylor in Raleigh, N.C., to the “Bronze Fonz” aka Henry Winkler in Milwaukee.
My favorite such tribute is actually kind of interactive. Tucked away on the far eastern end of Navy Pier, well past most of the popular tourist attractions, it depicts Bob Newhart as the fictional psychologist Bob Hartley, who is sitting in a chair with his legs crossed, notepad on lap, holding a writing instrument, next to the love seat where his patients could relax and tell him their troubles.
How many hundreds, how many thousands, of visitors have posed next to the kind and caring Dr. Hartley? (The sculpture was originally placed outside 430 N. Michigan Ave., outside the building where Dr. Hartley’s practice was set, before it was moved to Navy Pier.) Now that Mr. Newhart is gone, the sculpture becomes something of a memorial, and a lovely one at that.
George Robert Newhart — born in Oak Park, graduate of St. Ignatius College Prep and Loyola University, U.S. Army veteran, uniquely gifted, warm-hearted, genteel and spectacularly funny comedian and actor — died at age 94 in Los Angeles. He leaves behind a treasure trove of brilliant, low-key, generationally relatable comedy, including popular and award-winning comedy albums (nobody did imaginary phone calls with the special elan of Bob Newhart) from the 1960s and 1970s.
When Newhart made the transition to sitcom star, he was the "button-down" centerpiece of two classics: “The Bob Newhart Show” (1972-1978), with Newhart as the mild-mannered psychologist Bob Hartley and Suzanne Pleshette as his dryly hilarious wife, Emily, and “Newhart” (1982-1990), with Newhart playing another variation on the character, this time as the author, talk show host and Vermont innkeeper Dick Loudon, with Mary Frann as his wife, Joanna. After eight terrific seasons, “Newhart” ended with one of the most memorable series finales in television history, with Newhart awakening as his Dr. Bob Hartley character from the previous show and telling Pleshette’s Emily about the strangest dream he had. We were floored. It was an instant classic of a TV moment.
For a whole generation of fans who were too young to appreciate the comedy albums and the sitcoms, Mr. Newhart will forever be remembered as Papa Elf, the adoptive father of Will Ferrell’s Buddy Hobbs in “Elf” (2003). Six years prior to that, Newhart aced his role as the school principal in “In & Out.” He also guest-starred on a number of TV shows, from “Desperate Housewives” to “The Big Bang Theory,” and produced reliable deadpan gold on many a variety show or talk show guest appearance.
Through it all, Newhart always came across as an exceedingly decent, kind, thoughtful man who just happened to have razor-sharp but never hurtful observations about life as we know it. Heck, one of the reasons we felt Don Rickles was a nice guy beneath all the insult comedy was the fact he was best friends with ... Bob Newhart. (There’s even a wonderful short film from 2023, directed by Judd Apatow and Michael Bonfigilio, titled, “Bob and Don: A Love Story.”)
I was lucky enough to meet Mr. Newhart a few times, usually when he was a guest on a radio show. He was EXACTLY Bob Newhart: self-effacing, witty, graceful, low-key, and friendly in that genuine, effortless, Midwestern way. We often talk about how someone lights up a room when they enter, and that’s a gift, but Bob Newhart had an essence that was equally impressive: when he exited a room, he left everyone smiling.