He was not what first comes to mind at the mention of the description “movie star”. Of less than average stature, Peter Falk was not what you would call handsome; he could see out of only one eye (the other was removed when he was three years old because of cancer) and you couldn’t describe his physical movements as elegant. But he enjoyed a long and extraordinarily successful career on the stage, in movies and especially, on television. When I heard last week of his death at the age of 83 I reacted with two quite opposite feelings.

First, the positive one. I discovered Peter Falk in 1963, the year television began in Jamaica. I used to write copy, edit film and do interviews for the news broadcasts, but like everybody else I also watched with interest the entertainment programmes carried on the brand-new Jamaica Broadcasting Corporation. One of the early shows was called The Trials of O’Brien, in which Falk played a rumpled, unconventional lawyer.

Daniel O’Brien had a strained relationship with his wife, who was always on the verge of leaving him, and whenever she seemed ready to relent and give him another chance, he did something to upset the whole thing all over again. That was because his lifestyle was somewhat unconventional and because he became so focused on whatever case he was working on. He somehow managed to rise above his self-inflicted setbacks every time and win his cases – not by Perry Mason-type courtroom dramatics, but by painstaking investigation, by deduction and sometimes by accidental good fortune.

To the casual onlooker, Falk’s character was a bumbling oaf whose habits annoyed many of the people with whom he came into contact. They looked down on him, reacted with condescension and, to their ultimate chagrin, underestimated him. It was perhaps coincidental, but O’Brien bore an uncanny resemblance to the character for which Falk was to become widely known a decade or so later.

The Trials of O’Brien ran for only 22 episodes, but the new role, Lieutenant Columbo, ran on the NBC and ABC networks from 1971 to 2003. Unlike the usual hour-long TV show, the Columbo programme ran as a movie-length feature of 90 or 120 minutes. Columbo, whose first name we never heard, was, like O’Brien, totally unconcerned about his appearance. He wore a scruffy old raincoat, drove a temperamental old Peugeot and was sometimes accompanied by a sleepy-head basset hound. He referred often to his wife, whom we never saw, and constantly chomped on a cigar butt which never managed to stay lit.

Each episode began with a scene which clearly showed the crime exactly as it was committed. Apart from Falk’s endearing portrayal of the unconventional detective, what kept the viewer glued to the screen was the methodical uncovering of situation after situation, clue after clue and the antagonistic relationship between the perpetrator of the crime and the dogged detective. A dramatic device Columbo habitually used was to pause, just as he was going through the door, and say “Ah, there’s just one more thing …” Sometimes he would make an unexpected call on the prime suspect, proclaiming, “You see, something’s bothering me …” Like that early celebrated detective, Sherlock Holmes, Columbo always got his felon – not by gun-play and violent theatrics – but by diligent inquiry, attention to detail and intelligent deduction.

The show was broadcast all over the world in reruns, with dubbing into other languages or with sub-titles. For Falk, it was a subject of amazement: “I’ve been to little villages in Africa with maybe one TV set, and little kids will run up to me shouting, ‘Columbo, Columbo!'”

Critics loved the show and audiences stayed with it. Although Falk had appeared in many movies and received two Oscar nominations, had appeared in many stage productions and numerous other television series or single episodes, Columbo is the role Peter Falk will always be known for. Tragically, as his life drew to a close, Falk could not even remember the name of the inimitable character with whom he became inextricably bound. In 2007 a doctor testified in court that Falk had slipped into dementia after a series of dental operations, and the judge appointed his wife to take charge of his affairs.

Dementia is not in itself a disease: rather it is the loss of cognitive functions because of damage to or deterioration of the brain because of other conditions. Alzheimer’s is the main cause, but other diseases like Parkinson’s, Huntington’s or Creutzfeldt-Jakob damage the brain in various ways to cause dysfunction. Dementia is becoming more common as people live longer.

Sadly, I have had personal experience of this. I have lost several friends and acquaintances from the ravages of progressive degeneration of the brain. The latest was just last week, of a long-time friend who was active in the Jamaican community in Toronto. A few years back an old relative died after spending a decade in a nursing home. After dementia set in, she became a serious danger to herself from forgetting pots on the stove and engaging in other household activities she once performed effortlessly. An older friend spent the last few years of his life in a nursing home and he was no longer able to remember even people he knew for years. The children of another close friend were forced to put her in a full-time care facility after she could no longer stay at home even with a live-in caregiver. Her condition has deteriorated so badly that her brain has forgotten the once automatic instructions for how to walk and she has to be propelled around in a wheelchair.

Some forms of dementia can be partially reversed. Those are caused by factors like the abuse of drugs or alcohol, glandular disorders or conditions like a build-up of blood pressure in the brain. But those are in the minority. Researchers now believe that the main cause of dementia among the elderly is Alzheimer’s, while the other biggies plus AIDS-related dementia are also major factors.

These are all manifestations of Old-Timers’ Disease and are no joke – particularly to the immediate family who have to act as caregivers and who often themselves suffer from emotional and physical fatigue from the day-in, day-out pressure of providing care and watching a loved one slip away into an unknown place. I once heard a radio documentary in which a man looked after his wife quite cheerfully when she first came down with Alzheimer’s. But as the disease wore on she became abusive and nasty, and he confessed he had to put her in a home, otherwise he would probably snap one day and kill her.

One of the benefits of modern science, wonder drugs and extensive knowledge of how our bodies work and what can affect them is that we can now live well past the biblical upper limit of three score years and ten. The trouble is, as more and more of us go into those years with bodies in good shape, it’s our brains that desert us.

Another stalwart gone

It is with profund sadness that I heard two days ago of the death of Margarietta St Juste. I had known her for almost half a century, since our days at the Jamaica Broadcasting Corporation. She served with distinction as adviser and assistant to two ministers from the opposing parties – PJ Patterson and Anthony Abrahams. She later joined the foreign service, serving as trade representative and then on the diplomatic side. She is well remembered in Port of Spain and Toronto.

Margarietta was the epitome of poise, dignity and charm, behind which lay a first-class mind and annealed toughness. We remember her with admiration and affection.

keeble.mack@sympatico.ca