Newman's Gone

How appropriate that I carbed up for my 15K with pasta and a jar of Newman's Own Sockarooni sauce.

The rail-skinny Paul Newman photographed earlier this summer finally gave up his ghost.

I've written about Paul Newman before, so I won't rehash much. Piercing blue eyes, devilish smile, intensely private.

As for quintessential Newman movies, there's too many to list - Cool Hand Luke, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, watching him go toe to toe with Big Daddy in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

Recently I saw The Verdict, another unforgettable Sidney Lumet film about a washed-up, ambulance-chasing attorney rolling the dice and trying to do the right thing. Slate is spot-on in its analysis of his speech from that film.

Newman was about as private as a star of his magnitude. Sure, he knew those five greenhornes from Ohio were staring at him as he walked out of a Westport, Conn. auto parts store. My parents insisted he stay until he left. I've yet to forgive them for it.

While that was my first on-the-street encounter with someone famous, that isn't my favorite Paul Newman moment.

Few people were better at a cameo, and that's where my favorite moment came from.

Newman popped into the Ed Sullivan Theatre on David Letterman's opening night at CBS - only to ask Dave, "Where the hell are the singing cats?" Newman put his smart-ass side on display during the closing credits, when he overshadowed Dave by waving from the backdrop.

Even funnier was his brief cameo on The Simpsons, when Homer tries to find a product mascot to obsess about. When he spies a bottle of Newmans' Own, the label becomes animated and says, "Homer, I'll tell you what I told Redford - It ain't gonna happen."