Rest in peace, Cheetah ... whoever you were

In the final days of 2011, various television news programs paid tribute to notables who died last year. Kim Jon Il. Elizabeth Taylor. Andy Rooney. Vaclav Havel.

Inexplicably, perhaps inexcusably, none of the lists I saw included Cheetah, who reportedly died of kidney failure on Christmas Eve in Florida at the age of “around 80.”

Cheetah, as every Saturday matinee-going kid of the ’50s knew, was the simian sidekick of Tarzan, the Ape Man, who swung on vines through jungles and consorted with wildlife, which he summoned by cupping his hands around his mouth and imitating Carol Burnett.

Cheetah appeared in numerous Tarzan movies, playing a supporting role for Johnny Weissmuller, although its debatable which of them had more acting ability. The fact that Weissmuller got top billing may merely have been because he had the better agent.

The plots of these movies were not exactly Shakespearean, or even easy to distinguish from each other: Tarzan protects animals against greedy white poachers.

And Cheetah’s roles were not terribly complex. Cheetah pretends to laugh. Cheetah pretends to be afraid. Cheetah jumps up and down. Cheetah doesn’t jump up and down.

But we were not what you would call a discerning audience. It never even occurred to us to wonder why a chimpanzee had been given the name of a large cat. If you had a giraffe, would you call it “Hippo?”

Of course, Tarzan wasn’t noted for his extensive vocabulary and “Boy” probably was lucky Tarzan didn’t name him “Banana.”

According to his obituary, the off-screen Cheetah was multifaceted, with interests including finger-painting, watching football, biting his co-stars and flinging his poop at people.

But in death, as in his life, questions remain.

Was his name really “Cheetah,” or was it “Cheeta”? More importantly, was the Cheetah/Cheeta who died in Florida really the one we saw on the screen 60 years ago?

According to some researchers, there may have been a whole bunch of Cheetahs who played the role, including chimps named Jiggs Jr., Harry and Zippy. Plus a 6-year-old human named David Holt, who must have had a great deal more body hair than most 6-year-olds.

Besides, as many experts have pointed out, chimps in captivity rarely live past the age of 50.

“The one I saw did not look 80,” one of the experts insisted.

Then again, there is no proof that the chimp who died in Florida wasn’t Cheetah.

As one film archivist put it, “All chimps basically look like George Burns to me.”

Despite all these questions, I’m saddened by the death of Cheetah. I just wish all those experts hadn’t monkeyed around with my memories.

Contact D.L. Stewart at dlstew_2000@yahoo.com.

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