R.I.P. Taylor Negron — One of the ‘Fame-ish’ People [Video]

A stand up comic, playwright, painter, and sometimes actor, Taylor Negron often joked that he wasn't famous, he was "fame-ish", meaning that he wasn't quite a celebrity, but he had done just enough to have people quote lines from "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" and "Better Off Dead" to him all the time.

He also loved to speak publicly about living life to the fullest, and that's what I'll remember him for most.

I saw Taylor Negron perform stand up comedy at a club when I lived in California back in 1985, and I thought he was on the fast track to fame, for he was every bit as funny and charming as Robin Williams. But fame is a funny thing, and Taylor never became a huge star, and he was okay with that. He had enough success to live the life he always wanted, and isn't that what life is all about?

The last name may be familiar to fans of '70s music. His cousin, Chuck Negron, was the lead singer of the band Three Dog Night. Being related to Chuck was a recurrent theme in Taylor's stand-up routines.

Taylor succumbed to cancer at the age of 57 over the weekend. He was in countless films and TV shows, but three roles you may remember come to mind. Two were very small, but you remember them, and one was pretty big.

He was the pizza delivery man who brought Sean Penn's iconic eff Spicoli a pizza in "Fast Times At Ridgemont High," which spawned the famous line "Isn't it OUR time?"

He was the sleazy mailman trying to steal John Cusack's girlfriend in "Better Off Dead."

And he was the bad guy trying to frame Bruce Willis in the film "The Last Boy Scout."

But Taylor was also known for his life affirming public speaking and story-telling skills.

Last year, he told a tale of growing up in Los Angeles called "California Gothic" at Michigan State's Wharton Center for the Public Radio series "The Moth". (NSFW -- some, not much, but some bad language)

He also spoke of being true to yourself for the TEDx series in Cape May, N.J.

One of the final essays Taylor wrote was for the website XO Jane, and in it he talked about being "THAT GUY" -- someone recognized for his face in small roles, but never for his name.

Most of the time, however, the question is not specific.
It is simply: "Where do I know you from?"

 

I customize my answer based on age. If you are a woman in your 30s, I will most likely smile and respond with assurance: "I was Monica's boss on 'Friends.'"

 

If you are a man in your fifties, I clap him on the back and say: "Ah yes, you might know me as Rodney Dangerfield's son-in-law from 'Easy Money'."

 

That's part of the fun of being That Guy.

 

Honestly, I never searched out celebrity anyway. All I ever wanted was to be a tortured artist who occasionally wears Max Factor Tan No. 2 foundation.

 

By the time I was 15, I was a child actor, proudly jaded and war torn, glad to have gotten the promises kicked out of me early. I have worked steadily, starting out as a cartoon model at Hanna-Barbera and have the coloring book to prove it.

 

Being fame-ish is comforting to some. I have come to understand that viewers who knew me when they were young grew up with me. Subsequently when I hear, "Hey, you're that guy from so and so," it doesn't bother my ego, it makes me very proud that I am a shape shifter.

 

And maybe it was worth going on those four callbacks for "That's So Raven."