Walter Matthau

Walter Matthau

by Kelp

My father knew him, so I feel like I knew him too,
Not unlike the way we feel we know them,
All the stars we’re sure we know, but perhaps even a bit
More intimately because my father knew him, grew
Up in the same neighborhood, the Lower East Side,
Dead End kids, depressed by circumstance, with
Big hopes and dreams, my father had them,
But Walter Matthau made it.

He didn’t have the classic good looks, he was
The opposite of Cary Grant, as if that comparison
Has any meaning for anyone born in the Mill-
Ennium, or that he cut his teeth, as my
Father used to say, in the Yiddish Theatre
Where Golems and Dybbuks populated the
Stage, and everything was just a bit exaggerated.
And he was a natural.

I can understand why my father loved him, they
Were alike, striding slightly hunched around the
Room, shouting and yowling like New Yawkahs,
Emphasizing all the important words so
The odds were zero to nil of any misunda-
Standing, like: “I’m handing you a quawta million
Dollahs on a silvah plattah”.  With index finger raised:
“He’s giving me da fingah”.

Or when arguing with Jack Lemmon over whether
It’s spaghetti or linguine, he chucks the plate
Against the wall and announces: “Now it’s gahbich.”
And it’s the moment just before he throws the plate,
When you’re not sure if he’s really going to do it:
The pregnant pause, the hesitation, the wind-up
Before the pitch, the anticipation of the worst.
That’s the stuff that makes you laugh.

His smiles were not toothy, lips alone formed a line
Across his face, curved up (or down) and took the rest
Of his face along, and his forehead wrinkled and
His eyes closed halfway like downturned crescent cookies.
His untied tie hanging down from his shirt collar,
Unbuttoned at the top, a master of gesture and nuance.
Here was a man who stood for everything that was
Near and dear to my father.

When Walter Matthau and my father meet in heaven
Here’s the way I picture it.   My father is the Martin
Balsam character in Pelham 1-2-3, a good-
Hearted guy, mostly, forced into crime by circum-
Stance, which is why he’s in heaven waiting for Walter
Who opens the door a crack and peeking in with
Upturned eyebrows, conveys without saying a word:
“Well, hello there … I know YOU.”