Susan Ager: Perry Como's achievement: living quietly

He lived so quietly, on an island in Florida, that his death just shy of his 89th birthday this weekend might have surprised you. He stopped performing seven years ago, after a difficult four-hour Christmas TV show in Ireland disheartened him.

When they heard he died Saturday, on the brink of his 89th birthday, his fans likely did not cry as Sinatra's did, or sob as Elvis' did.

When Perry Como died, his fans only sighed.

Como, the guy next door

Passion, especially a fan's passion, feeds on raw edges, on darkness, on thrills and mystery and danger.

"Perry wasn't sexy," Wayne Stevens told me. "He was the guy next door who wore a sweater."

Stevens is the afternoon DJ at CKWW-AM "580 Memories" in Windsor, which plays standards from the '40s and '50s, including a fair amount of Como. A few years ago, through his manager, Como refused to talk to the DJ on-air, even briefly.

"He was retired with a capital R," Stevens recalled. "A lot of these guys take their last breath on stage. But Perry Como decided it was time to take strolls with friends. I don't want to suggest even in joking that people thought Perry was gone already . . ."

But they did ...even when he performed all the time. They called him "Mr. Casual" and "Mr. Relaxation."

Several of my friends remember a classic skit from a late-night comedy show. Como was only 69 when "SCTV" staged the 75-second shtick called "Perry Como -- Still Alive." Eugene Levy as Como lay on the stage to sing "I Like the Nightlife" and crooned "I Will Survive," in a honeyed voice, while in bed with the covers up to his chin.

Two days after Como died, I found on the main Como Web site only 250 e-mails of grief -- a pittance, really. Sinatra died three years ago Sunday, and his fans posted more notes than that in the past two weeks.

Why the difference? George Townsend thinks he knows.

Self-promotion out

Townsend is 52, lives in Nova Scotia and has been a Como fan since he was 12. He put together the first Como discography, that is, a history of his recording career, now on-line at www.home.istar.ca/~townsend.

"Frank Sinatra sold himself," Townsend told me, "Como didn't. Como wasn't an actor. He wasn't aggressive. He just did his thing," shunning publicity. No one ever wrote his biography.

"He was just another nice guy," Townsend said, "the kind of fellow not worth writing about."

In contrast, the details of Sinatra's private life slicked him with a lasting varnish that would have embarrassed Como. Townsend told me: "That kind of stuff gets you into the paper, gets you known as a big guy. You travel around in a whirlwind, and that gets attention and draws a big crowd, but the crowd doesn't know why it's there except that everybody else is, too."

My mother said Monday she thought Como was a better man. "Lots of women did," she said. "He was gentle. He'd never hit a woman, like you could imagine Sinatra doing."

So a quiet man leaves the world quietly. Word is he died quickly.

Nobody knows any dirt on him. He wrestled with no obvious demons. He made sweet music that the heart can remember. Who else but Como sang "Catch a Falling Star"? But he stirred no more excitement than a brown paper bag, and died with a clean reputation.

Today, that's a thrilling achievement.

Contact SUSAN AGER at 313-222-6862 or ager@freepress.com