In the 1974 film “The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams” and the NBC television series of the same name, Dan Haggerty portrayed a kind mountain man with a lush beard and a bear named Ben. Haggerty passed away on Friday in Burbank, California.
He was seventy-three.
According to his buddy and manager Terry Bomar, the cause was spine cancer.
Mr. Haggerty was employed in Hollywood as an animal trainer and stuntman when a producer asked him to reprise portions of the film’s opening sequences, which were about a woodsman and his bear.
Based on Charles Sellier Jr.’s novel “The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams,” it narrated the tale of a man from California who runs away from the woods after being wrongfully convicted of murder. There, he befriends the local wildlife and tames an abandoned bear.
Mr. Haggerty consented, provided that he may do the full film. After being remade for $165,000, the movie finally brought in close to $30 million from ticket sales. After that, it was made into a television series, and in February 1977, Mr. Haggerty returned to his environmentally conscious duty as the forest’s defender and animal buddy.
John Leonard described the first episode in The New York Times as “lukewarm to the heart.” Mad Jack (Denver Pyle) and the honorable red man Makuma (Don Shanks) bring bread and advise to the man and bear who have taken up residence in a log cabin. Bear washes his fur while the man traps his as they depart the cabin. There’s also a lot of connecting with nature, raccoons, owls, deer, bunnies, hawks, badgers, cougars, and a lump in the throat.
Warm and nostalgic, the show won over fans to Mr. Haggerty, who went on to win the 1978 People’s Choice Award for best new series actor. “Grizzly Adams” gave rise to two sequels: “Legend of the Wild,” which aired in 1978 and was eventually released in theaters in 1981; and “The Capture of Grizzly Adams,” which aired as a TV movie in 1982 and saw Adams being brought back to his hometown by bounty hunters in order to clear his record.
On November 19, 1942, Daniel Francis Haggerty was born in Los Angeles. After his parents divorced when he was three years old, he had a difficult upbringing and repeatedly escaped from military school. Eventually, he moved in with his actor father in Burbank, California.
He wed Diane Rooker at the age of 17. The union broke down in divorce. In 2008, he lost his second wife, Samantha Hilton, in a motorbike accident. His children, Don, Megan, Tracy, Dylan, and Cody, survive him.
In his debut movie, “Muscle Beach Party” (1964), he starred with Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello as physique builder Biff. Then came came cameos in nature and motorcycle movies, such as “Biker With Bandana” and “Bearded Biker.” In “Easy Rider,” he made a fleeting appearance as a visitor to the hippie commune visited by Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda.
In reality, Mr. Haggerty kept a variety of wild animals that he had either tamed from birth or rescued from harm on his tiny ranch in Malibu Canyon. His abilities brought him work as a stuntman and animal trainer on the television shows “Daktari” and “Tarzan,” in addition to sporadic roles in movies. “People magazine didn’t like actors jumping on them,” he said in 1978.
He acted as a Siberian tiger trapper in “Where the North Wind Blows” (1974), one of his outdoor-themed flicks, and in “The Adventures of Frontier Fremont” (1976). In the David Carradine movie “Americana,” he had an appearance as a dog trainer (1983). He portrayed a figure who was strikingly similar to Grizzly Adams in the movies “Grizzly Mountain” (1997) and “Escape to Grizzly Mountain” (2000).
As his career faded, Mr. Haggerty starred in horror movies such as “Axe Giant: The Wrath of Paul Bunyan” (2013), “Terror Night” (1987), and “Elves” (1989), in which he played an inebriated mall Santa. He was given a 90-day jail sentence in 1985 for supplying cocaine to two police agents who were undercover.
A negligent diner carrying a flaming cocktail ignited Mr. Haggerty’s well-known beard in 1977. He attempted to put out the fire, but instead burned his arms in the third degree. He was sent to a hospital where he would have therapy that would likely take a month.
“For the first few days, I was like a wounded wolf trying to heal myself—I just laid in the dark room drinking water,” he said to People. “Nurses urged me to open the curtains and attempted to give me morphine.” But occasionally, animals have better medical knowledge than humans. After ten days, he left the hospital on foot.
My mother-in-law converted our adopted son’s bedroom into her personal library during our absence, the stern lesson I imparted was severe
The unexpected redesign of our adopted son’s room by my mother-in-law sent shockwaves through our family. The events that followed revealed hidden feelings and truths we hadn’t acknowledged, taking us on a tumultuous journey filled with love, betrayal, and hard-earned lessons that would forever change our family dynamics.
For weeks, I had dedicated myself to creating the perfect space for Max. The joy of finally adopting him had Garrett and me brimming with excitement as we decorated the room with posters of dinosaurs and spaceships, arranged stuffed animals, and stocked the bookshelves with bright, engaging stories.
After putting in so much effort, I turned to Garrett, seeking his reassurance about our work. He wrapped an arm around me and smiled, expressing his belief that Max would adore the room.
Our moment was abruptly interrupted by a knock. Vivian, Garrett’s mother, peeked inside, her expression a mix of surprise and skepticism. She scanned the room, and I felt a wave of unease wash over me as she offered a backhanded compliment about how “vibrant” it looked.
As her gaze fell on the carefully arranged toys, a calculating look crossed her face. She suggested that the room might serve better as a reading nook, implying that Max needed some “intellectual stimulation” to unlock his potential. Her comments felt patronizing, a thinly veiled attempt to take over a space we had lovingly crafted for our son. Garrett and I exchanged concerned glances, sensing the brewing tension. It became increasingly apparent that Vivian’s presence in our home was becoming more of a strain than a comfort.
Garrett attempted to assert our authority as parents, reminding his mother that Max was now part of our family. Vivian, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand, hinting that her connection to him as his grandmother should hold more weight.
As I held back my frustration, I recalled that Vivian was still grieving her husband’s recent death. She had been living with us, and while we thought it would help her heal, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were headed for conflict.
The day before our anniversary getaway, we exchanged hurried goodbyes with Max. His anxious expression tugged at my heart. As my sister Zoe arrived to take care of him while we were away, I noticed Vivian watching from the window, her face unreadable.
Our trip was beautiful, filled with romantic dinners and scenic walks. Yet, an unsettling feeling lingered in the back of my mind. I couldn’t help but worry about what was happening at home. Once we returned, the moment we stepped inside, something felt off. A strange odor wafted through the air. As we made our way upstairs, my stomach sank with each step.
Reaching Max’s room, I stood frozen in disbelief. The bright colors and cheerful décor were gone, replaced by stark bookshelves, a plush chair, and a muted daybed. The walls had lost their vibrant blue hue, leaving a bland beige in its wake.
Garrett’s shocked outburst echoed my feelings as Vivian appeared, her face alight with pride. She called it a surprise, completely oblivious to the destruction she had wrought. I demanded to know where Max’s toys had gone, my anger bubbling to the surface.
Vivian shrugged, claiming that the room now had a “sophisticated” touch that Max needed. I was furious; this was a space meant for a seven-year-old, not a study for an adult. Garrett tried to reason with his mother, but she continued to insist that the changes were for the best. I felt my emotions boiling over as I wondered how she could be so dismissive of our son’s needs.
After Vivian left the room, I collapsed onto the daybed, overwhelmed by the situation. Garrett joined me, sighing in frustration, and we both realized that it was time to establish some boundaries with his mother.
I began to devise a plan. For the next few days, I played the part of the grateful daughter-in-law, expressing my appreciation for her “help” while secretly plotting our response. One morning, I suggested to Vivian that we treat her to a spa day and a special dinner, feigning warmth in my tone. She was thrilled, and as soon as she left, Garrett and I sprang into action.
We transformed her cherished garden into a chaotic playground, uprooting her beloved flowers to make space for a sandbox and scattering toys throughout the area. We even added a small slide, turning her sanctuary into a vibrant play space.
When Vivian returned, I greeted her at the door with an overly cheerful demeanor and a blindfold. As we led her outside, I could barely contain my excitement. Once she stood in front of her wrecked garden, we removed the blindfold. Silence enveloped us for a moment before she gasped in horror at the sight before her.
I feigned innocence, asking if she liked the “playful” new touch. Her horrified response confirmed what I already knew—she had no idea how her actions had affected us, just as we had shown little regard for her beloved garden.
Garrett stepped in to explain that we hadn’t destroyed anything; we had simply repurposed it, much like she had done to Max’s room. The realization hit her hard, and she began to understand the gravity of her decisions.
Tears filled her eyes as she realized the parallel between Max’s room and her garden. We spent the evening in heartfelt conversation, discussing her fears of being replaced and how we could better include her in our family dynamics.
By the end of the night, we had a plan: together, we would restore Max’s room, and Vivian would help us explain the situation to him. She also agreed to seek support for her grief, a step towards healing that we all needed. The following day, we worked together to bring Max’s room back to life. Just as we finished hanging the last poster, we heard his voice calling from the front door.
When Max burst into the room, his face lit up with joy, and he rushed into my arms, relieved to see his space returned to him. I exchanged a knowing glance with Vivian, who offered me a small, remorseful smile. It was a moment of understanding and healing.
That night, we all snuggled together in Max’s room for bedtime stories. As I looked around at my family, I realized that sometimes the most challenging experiences lead to the most profound realizations about love, family, and acceptance.
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