The late Benjamin S. Putman combined the best and worst traits of fictional Mad Men character Don Draper: a sharp wit, an even sharper dresser, a shrewd businessman and a genteel gentleman on one hand; a complex, contradictory, conflicted, often sadly self-destructive soul on the other. In the end, though his personal demons may have finally defeated his troubled spirit, he now resides with the angels of Hollywood Heaven - and they're probably getting a crash course on How To Manage their own celestial screening room. The temporal world he left behind feels a little less cinematic, therefore less entertaining, enthralling and engaging, without his charming, charismatic, and effortlessly old-school-cool presence.
I first met Ben when he was manager of Berkeley's long gone but sorely missed UC Theater, back in the 1990s. Ben provided the heart and soul of that cherished institution, turning it into a true temple of worship for both discerning movie-goers and grindhouse geeks alike. After it closed, Ben often waxed nostalgic about his halcyon days with the UC, lamenting the loss of the opportunity to program such an eclectic, edifying playbill, as well as the cavernous yet cozy venue itself - especially "the amber lit atmosphere," as he put it. An avid collector of cinematic ephemera, Ben proudly possessed a virtual museum of rare movie trailers, 35mm prints, one sheets, lobby cards and other cellulloid treasures that made him the envy of the local film community, as well as its champion. Ben brought his eclectic film tastes and knowledge with him to Landmark's Albany Twin and later the Alameda Theater, where he hosted midnight screenings of the latest blockbusters as well as his own weekly classic film series, thriving in his natural element, at the top of his game. His trivia questions were not easy, since his grasp of movie trivia was unequaled in most circles, but the answers, right or (more often) wrong, were always rewarded with his trademark impish grin and suave retro style, as well as candy or free passes for those few patrons tuned into his wiseguy wavelength. With his skinny ties, nealty pressed suits, dangling cigarette and often furrowed burrow, he looked and acted the role of a genuine hipster. He often let me in free to the Alameda Theater, because, as he succinctly put it in typically hard-boiled fashion, "Only suckers pay for movies."
Ben also leaves behind a legion of grief-stricken friends, co-workers and family members, who readily share touching tales of Ben's generosity as well as his legendary goofy antics on and off duty, but there was also an innate sadness the guy exuded in his quiter moments, when not enthusiastically discussing his favorite subject, Movies, or pursuing one of his favorite pastimes, bowling. Ben Putman was a mystery man whose deepest secrets he took with him when he unwittingly, and unwillingly, discovered the biggest mystery of all.
A Facebook page has been created in his honor, where details of the inevitable memorial will be posted. The outpouring of anecdotal testimonials, candid photos and unabashed expressions of pure love on this page, posted by a wide variety of people who were somehow touched by Ben's brief journey on this Earth, are in itself a telling tribute to a colorful character who died way too young, but who left an indelible impression on everyone who was lucky enough to know him. Whenever I watch a flick, any flick, from now on, I'll be watching it with my friend Ben. Aloha, pal. See you at the Movies.
Will "the Thrill' Viharo is a pulp fiction author and B Movie impresario.
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