Gordon and baby Keegan submitted by Susi
Your personal tributes are greatly appreciated.
You may either sign the guest book, which offers limited space,
or email your longer tributes.
Click here to see tributes page two.
From Glen Ellyn newspaper:
"Film director remembered as Dynamic"
see article
Gordon's obituary, provided by Greg Walker
H. Gordon Boos, an award-winning director, writer and assistant director in Hollywood, died Saturday, April 3, 2004,
at his sister’s home in Oswego, Illinois, after a long battle with brain cancer.
Born in Glen Ellyn, Illinois, Gordon attended Benjamin Franklin Elementary, Hadley Junior High and Glenbard West
High School, where he graduated the class on 1975. As a teenager, Gordon earned the Eagle Scout rank, the
highest achievement in scouting. He later attended The College of DuPage, the University of Chicago and Southern
Illinois University at Carbondale, where he distinguished himself as key member on the nationally recognized
forensics team. Gordon later moved to Los Angeles, and at a young age quickly become one of the leading assistant
directors in the film business. He worked with many of the industry’s top directors, including Francis Coppola, Oliver
Stone, Norman Jewison and Ron Shelton. Among his numerous credits are The Rookie (2002), Tin Cup (1996), The
Godfather: Part III (1990) and Platoon (1986). Gordon was twice nominated for the top DGA honors, winning in 1986
for Oliver Stone’s Platoon. In the course of his long career, he also assistant directed over one hundred nationally-
aired commercials and music videos.
In Gordon’s four movies as a director -- The Vivero Letter (1998), Perfect Assassins (1998), Touch Me (1997) and Red
Surf (1990) -- he was known for providing early opportunities to actors who would later become stars, from George
Clooney and Amanda Peete to Michael Vartan and Peter Facinelli. In addition, Gordon had writing credits on Touch
Me and Red Surf.
Gordon is survived by his son Keegan, mother Lilo Schweikhofer (husband Erwin) of Glen Ellyn, Illinois, sister Susan
Rodrigues and her husband Rob, niece Amanda Harding, nephew Kyle Rodrigues, all of Oswego, Illinois; and
hundreds of friends and colleagues across the United States who will forever be touched by his warm and sensitive
soul.
He is preceded in death by his father Hans Boos.
A visitation will take place Tuesday, April 13, from 4pm to 8pm at Leonard Memorial Home, 565 Duane St., Glen Ellyn,
Illinois.
A service will be held 11 am, Wednesday, April 14, at St. Petronille Church, 420 Glenwood Ave., in Glen Ellyn.
In lieu of flowers, memorials may be directed to Susan H. Rodrigues, information to follow.
From Kirk Francis:
From Pat Crowley:
At my age exact dates get blurry, but sometime in the
late '70s or early '80s Allan Rucker, Pat Crowley, and I
ended up in Carbondale, Illinois. Carbondale was, at
least then, famous for its Halloween parties, and we
were there doing ROADSHOW, a pilot to replace the
first generation of Saturday Night Live. It invloved John
Candy and several other also then unknowns.
Just as in every other town I've ever shot in, there was
a smart kid from the local college who really, really
wanted to get into the movie biz. This time it was
Gordon Boos. He worked for us as a PA doing quite
well whatever he was told and, by some reports, he did
so under the influence of LSD much of the time. I
certainly had no problem with that. When it came time
to leave, Gordo announced that he was packing his
$500 and moving to Hollywood to get a job in the
movie business.
He actually came. His $500 went as quickly as you
would expect, but he helped me work on my house, he
parked cars at Crowley's parties, he gradually became
everybody's favorite little brother figure. Crowley got
him a PA job on a feature we were doing and at one
point he shaved his head to play a monster part. He'd
blast around Hollywood in his VW talking faster than
Neal Cassidy on a good day. The girls dug him, and he
dug the
whole scene. It seemed made for him.
Before anyone noticed he had been 1st AD on a bunch
of non-DGA pictures. He bugged the Guild, Crowley
pulled some strings, and they let him in as a 1st. Big
celebrations at Club Ted ensued. He got the Ollie
Stone picture and his path was clear.
Gordo was a top man, and life is sweet.
Kirk Francis
Whidbey Island, Washington
Tributes are usually about someone’s “special”
qualities. Well, what was there about Gordon that
wasn’t special? From the moment he walked onto a set
or into your house, and took that deep breath he
needed to power the world’s longest run-on sentence,
you knew you were in a unique presence. A lot of us
watched him start out as a herky-jerky ball of fire so
eager and willing to please, living at our houses, driving
our cars (lots of parking tickets), taking care of us while
we took care of him. You had to love the guy: he
listened, he worked hard, he brought flowers. But as
time went by, you started to see what was really
“special” about Gordon: even as he moved up the
ladder, he never lost his passion to be a creator. In a
relatively short time, Gordon was successful and in
demand; he had a natural talent as a first ad and could
have lived handsomely working for others. But Gordon
wanted to put his hands in the clay; he wanted to
direct. Unlike most people with that goal, he was
willing to earn the privilege: directing storefront
theater, chasing money, rewriting bad scripts and
working around the clock. He had neither rich relatives
nor famous girlfriends (not for lack of trying); he had to
do it on his own. He scrounged and pleaded, begged
and borrowed…and it was working! When we walked
down the scary hallways of Cedar Sinai Hospital 5
years ago, the anger at the possible frustration of
Gordon’s dream was serious. Each one of his films was
better than the previous, his skill was catching up with
his vision. Unfortunately it was cut short.
One of Gordon’s legacies was his unrelenting, ever
cheerful pursuit of making himself the best creator he
could be. His other legacy, his son Keegan, no doubt
has in the tendrils of his DNA, the same gifts. We all
owe it to Gordon, with our wallets or our time, to
assure the success of his greatest creation.
From Bill Nicholson:
I am a friend of Gordon's from College of DuPage days,
Forensics, roommates at SIU with Tim Brown, Glen Ellyn
resident and drinking buddy when he came back to
town Christmastime to visit his mom. I just got back
from a trip to Switzerland and got the word from Jim
Campbell about Gordon's passing. Jim, his earliest
childhood friend and I had begun putting together a
video of some of Gordon's friends during his pre LA
years.
Gordon got to see a rough cut I had put together when
I took it out to him at Susi's a couple of weeks ago,
and I have other stuff we were planning for a tribute to
give to Keegan when he is older.
The overwhelming theme that seemed to come out of
re-contacting people all over and collecting this
material was the way Gordon had of putting in touch
with each other the eclectic group of people he met
along the way.
From Paula Tourville:
Gordon arrived at the COD forensics team about the
youngest of the group...so very talented and with truly
great "rock star" hair.
At the ISU speech tournament ('76 I think), Gordon &
Tim Malm showed up at the hotel room I shared. (This
was the world accliamed Motel 6 in
Bloomington-Normal.) Anyway, the two of them were
armed with cups, hot water, a tea infuser and
"Constant Comment tea", for as Gordon so eloquently
put it, "the ultimate tea experience!"
While steeping our tea, we were tuned in to the usual
"Saturday Night Live" and having a very nice time,
when all of a sudden, the evening took a very dark and
ugly turn. Gordon put a handful of quarters in the
"Magic fingers" box on my bed. Well, the bed began to
vibrate. Amazingly enough, you can't pull the plug on a
"Magic Fingers" bed. (Who would steal one anyway?)
This darn thing vibrated until four o'clock in the morning
and I continued to vibrate until almost noon. Still, being
the professional I was (sniff) I managed to rise to the
occasion of final rounds the following day. I still travel
with pair of wire cutters in my bag just in case Gordon
ever shows up with a hand full of quarters.
You are in my memories and in my heart.
Blessings and Peace,
Paula
From Jim Campbell:
Gordon was born two weeks before me -- across the
street. Over the years, I've always liked to define the
longevity of our relationship this way: We've known
each other since before we could know. A rare
thing indeed, to have a friend since birth. And now, I've
lost him. It hurts.
Some thoughts:
In 1964, we wrote our first song together: Lost and
Found. Of course, we argued over creative control.
Regardless of the outcome of the argument, the song
never went anywhere. . . our 6-year-old hearts (and
egos) were crushed. But the creative bug had bitten,
from then on, we both were goners.
A few years later, we tried to pull off a backyard magic
act called The Merry Magicians. We ended up closing
after one show and refunding most of the audience's
money. . . It probably would have helped if we
actually knew how to perform magic. Truth be told, we
were just looking to make a quick buck to buy something
at TA. Oh yeah, we wrote the
theme song for that act too.
Lots of firsts with Gordon: First fist fight, first sleep-over,
first discussion about the facts of life (Gordon taught
them to me one day in sixth grade on the way to Ben
Franklin Elementary School -- shocked the
hell out of me), first "ditch" of catechism, first "ditch" of
mass, first cigarette, first beer, first... well, it gets a little
dicey after that. Bottom line, Gordon taught me the facts
of life, I taught him the facts of screwing up your life. And
this was before high school. Somehow, we both got
through it.
Wise beyond his years, Gordon was the guru of the
group. He knew stuff we didn't, and what he didn't
know, he'd make up (a true creative). Funny thing, when
he was making it up it sounded great, but sometimes
we'd give him crap for going overboard with the BS. He'd
blush, reel it back in, then slowly wander back out into
his fantasy world -- what a knuckle-head.
After high school our lives would converge and diverge,
but we'd always connect when we needed a reality fix
(read: talk to a homey). We never pulled any punches
with each other; wouldn't allow it. We told it straight.
Sometimes he'd call from LA looking to talk with someone
who knew him as Gordon Herman Boos, not H. Gordon
Boos. Sometimes I'd call him for creative insight when
stuck on a project. Sometimes we'd argue.
Sometimes we'd cry. But each time, we'd learn
something new about our unique bond. We'd celebrate
it, and promise to never break it.
I'm proud of Gordon. I'm a better person to have known
him. I'm honored that his last words to me were "Good
friend." I've always loved him. Always will. And now, I
guess I'll always miss him, too.
From Nora Murphy:
This morning I woke up with a tune in my head. A
catchy little ditty by Jim Carroll. I won’t mention the
name or the lyrics but those of you who know the
Catholic School Boy’s music, you know what I’m talking
about. Despite its poetic catchiness, it is an unhappy
piece. For once I didn’t want it in my head.
Yesterday I learned that my friend H. Gordon Boos had
died over the weekend. He’d suffered a long battle with
brain cancer - a couple of his final years he was in
remission, but it was a fight that couldn’t be won.
Gordon was a pretty amazing guy – one of the
smartest I have ever met. I believe it was just after he
returned from being in Italy for three months to film
Godfather III, that I first had drinks with him and some
other friends at Atlas. He was the 1st Assistant Director
on that movie and many others including Tucker, Cobb,
Tin Cup and The Rookie. He had the professional and
social mentality of a 1st Assistant Director – sharp,
quick, intense, charming.
An ironic misfortune to say the least. Gordon and I
found common ground from the get go. We were both
from Chicago suburbs and both Cubs and Bears fans.
We got together on many a Sunday morning to
commiserate over the Monsters of the Midway.
Gordon was a connoisseur of fine wine and fine dine.
When he returned from Italy he admitted his love for
the place and continued his fascination through art and
food. He was one of my very first patrons when he
bought a painted photo that I did of the Mediterranean
hillsides that reminded him of Italy. Also, around the
same time, I was making my living by painting houses
and using a lot of faux finishes. He hired me once on a
house he rented in Pasadena and again for the house
he bought in the Hollywood Hills.
Gordon was in the process of transitioning his career
into directing his own movies. He hired me on one as
still photographer. Unfortunately, that particular movie
made it through pre-production but no further.
Financing fell through or some such Hollywood shit. He
made others independently. He also made his greatest
production during all his medical issues – a little boy
named Keagan.
He will be greatly missed because he was a greatly
stately guy.
