catlover79
04-30-2011, 04:33 PM
http://roberthegyes.com/guest7a.html
"The day before Freddie died, Jimmy Komack gave him back his gun. (Please forgive me Jimmy, G_d rest your soul, you weren't too stable either). I saw him the week before at the studio (where he talked mostly about Racquel Welch).
Freddie used to drive a 1975 blue Corvette and park next to Johnny Carson at the NBC studios. He had completed a Movie of the Week for NBC, and had confided in me that he was dissatisfied with the film, and that no one was giving him movie offers. He also said he couldn't come up with any new material for his standup act in Vegas. He handed me his album and autographed it, "From one Hungarican to another... Love, Freddie."
Dusty Synder, our mutual accountant, had received a call that night from Freddie, from the hotel he was staying in, saying that he wanted to kill himself. Freddie was estranged from his wife, who had just had his son, Freddie Jr. He had married young, he acknowledged that he had drug problems, and all these woman were throwing themselves at him. He didn't have a long-range goal, and everything that happened to him was dissatisfying. He wasn't getting good financial advice from Dusty... we all weren't! Freddie's concerns were monetary. He was concerned about his wife wiping him out financially. My dear friend, Lawrence Hilton Jacobs when bankrupt as soon as Kotter was over. Ron Pallilo had to sell everything just to move to New York. And I owed $75,000 to the IRS. All from Marvin Dusty Snyder... Jimmy Komack's personal accountant.
From my understanding, when Dusty arrived at his hotel (after the phone call), Freddie had consumed mass quantities of cocaine and prescription Qualudes. Obviously, he was not in complete control of his motor skills. Again, Freddie was frustrated by his lack of future work... movies, standup and pending financial difficulties. The poor guy was living in a hotel. He pulled his gun out from under a cushion on the couch and put it to his head. Dusty claimed the gun went off by accident. Somewhere along the line, I have to believe that. I think Freddie was just crying for help. But you had an executive producer who was nuts, and an accountant who couldn't be trusted. His number was up.
My mother called me at 5 a.m. and woke me up with the news. I knew that Lisa Mordenta (Chita Rivera's daughter who had performed in Kotter) and Liza Minelli were at the emergency room. I called Lisa and she told me he was on life support. By that morning it was announced that Freddie was dead. Rehearsals were cancelled that day at Welcome Back, Kotter (since it was one of Jimmy's shows). The next day, John, Larry, Ron, and I had our own private breakfast (that was instigated by John), and we pledged that if any of us would ever get suicidal in our lives... we would call the other person... and never let what happened to Freddie, happen to us. Quite frankly, we were all overwhelmed by fame, drugs and sex.
Dear Freddie Jr. (If you should ever read this)... Your dad was one of my mentors when I moved here from New Jersey in 1975. He was very loving and sweet to my mom and dad and my siblings. He went out of his way to constantly check on me and make sure I was okay. I wish you nothing but the best. You deserve it."
"The day before Freddie died, Jimmy Komack gave him back his gun. (Please forgive me Jimmy, G_d rest your soul, you weren't too stable either). I saw him the week before at the studio (where he talked mostly about Racquel Welch).
Freddie used to drive a 1975 blue Corvette and park next to Johnny Carson at the NBC studios. He had completed a Movie of the Week for NBC, and had confided in me that he was dissatisfied with the film, and that no one was giving him movie offers. He also said he couldn't come up with any new material for his standup act in Vegas. He handed me his album and autographed it, "From one Hungarican to another... Love, Freddie."
Dusty Synder, our mutual accountant, had received a call that night from Freddie, from the hotel he was staying in, saying that he wanted to kill himself. Freddie was estranged from his wife, who had just had his son, Freddie Jr. He had married young, he acknowledged that he had drug problems, and all these woman were throwing themselves at him. He didn't have a long-range goal, and everything that happened to him was dissatisfying. He wasn't getting good financial advice from Dusty... we all weren't! Freddie's concerns were monetary. He was concerned about his wife wiping him out financially. My dear friend, Lawrence Hilton Jacobs when bankrupt as soon as Kotter was over. Ron Pallilo had to sell everything just to move to New York. And I owed $75,000 to the IRS. All from Marvin Dusty Snyder... Jimmy Komack's personal accountant.
From my understanding, when Dusty arrived at his hotel (after the phone call), Freddie had consumed mass quantities of cocaine and prescription Qualudes. Obviously, he was not in complete control of his motor skills. Again, Freddie was frustrated by his lack of future work... movies, standup and pending financial difficulties. The poor guy was living in a hotel. He pulled his gun out from under a cushion on the couch and put it to his head. Dusty claimed the gun went off by accident. Somewhere along the line, I have to believe that. I think Freddie was just crying for help. But you had an executive producer who was nuts, and an accountant who couldn't be trusted. His number was up.
My mother called me at 5 a.m. and woke me up with the news. I knew that Lisa Mordenta (Chita Rivera's daughter who had performed in Kotter) and Liza Minelli were at the emergency room. I called Lisa and she told me he was on life support. By that morning it was announced that Freddie was dead. Rehearsals were cancelled that day at Welcome Back, Kotter (since it was one of Jimmy's shows). The next day, John, Larry, Ron, and I had our own private breakfast (that was instigated by John), and we pledged that if any of us would ever get suicidal in our lives... we would call the other person... and never let what happened to Freddie, happen to us. Quite frankly, we were all overwhelmed by fame, drugs and sex.
Dear Freddie Jr. (If you should ever read this)... Your dad was one of my mentors when I moved here from New Jersey in 1975. He was very loving and sweet to my mom and dad and my siblings. He went out of his way to constantly check on me and make sure I was okay. I wish you nothing but the best. You deserve it."