Author Topic: RIP Dave Draper  (Read 7105 times)

Gregzs

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Re: RIP Dave Draper
« Reply #100 on: December 13, 2021, 05:58:25 PM »
Posted this afternoon:

~Laree Draper here~
Dave died peacefully at home on 11/30/2021, 40 years after being diagnosed with congestive heart failure. I was with him when he died; I'm happy to be able to tell you he didn't struggle and there was no pain. Dave Draper, 4/16/1942–11/30/2021

The Scott

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Re: RIP Dave Draper
« Reply #101 on: December 13, 2021, 06:19:00 PM »
Posted this afternoon:

~Laree Draper here~
Dave died peacefully at home on 11/30/2021, 40 years after being diagnosed with congestive heart failure. I was with him when he died; I'm happy to be able to tell you he didn't struggle and there was no pain. Dave Draper, 4/16/1942–11/30/2021

I mourn his passing and hope for his faith to reward him as it was written.

funk51

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Re: RIP Dave Draper
« Reply #102 on: December 26, 2021, 06:23:03 AM »
Dave Draper, Bodybuilding’s ‘Blond Bomber,’ Dies at 79

After being named Mr. America, Mr. Universe and Mr. World, he left competitive bodybuilding in 1970. But he kept lifting weights until a year before he died.

Dave Draper at the 1965 Mr. America competition. He won that and two other major bodybuilding titles before dropping out of competition at age 28.Credit...via Laree Draper

By Richard Sandomir

Dec. 24, 2021

Dave Draper, a popular bodybuilder of the 1960s who won three major titles before dropping out of competition at age 28, died on Nov. 30 at his home in Aptos, Calif., near Santa Cruz. He was 79.

The cause was congestive heart failure, his wife, Laree Draper, said.

Mr. Draper — who stood six feet tall, had a 54-inch chest and competed at 235 pounds — emerged as a force in bodybuilding in 1962 with his victory at the Mr. New Jersey competition. He soon moved to Southern California, where he continued to sculpt his body at the Dungeon, a gym on the fabled Muscle Beach in Santa Monica, and at Gold’s Gym, in the Venice neighborhood of Los Angeles.

He loved lifting weights for its physical and spiritual benefits. But he disliked the preening and posing required of bodybuilders at competitions and exhibitions.

“For a reasonable season of my life, it seemed like the thing to do,” Mr. Draper said in an interview in 2009 with T-Nation, a strength training and bodybuilding website. “But competition stood between me and the relief of hoisting the iron — the private exertion, the pure delight and the daily fulfillment of building muscle and strength.”

Despite that ambivalence, Mr. Draper, who became known as the Blond Bomber, was a star on the bodybuilding scene of the 1960s. He was named Mr. America in 1965, and Mr. Universe in 1966 — before Arnold Schwarzenegger had arrived from Austria — and won the Mr. World title in 1970.

“Dave trained harder than anybody else and always wore jeans to the gym,” Frank Zane, a three-time Mr. Olympia, said in a phone interview. “He loved to train, and he was very strong. He just didn’t like competing.”

Mr. Draper’s spectacular physique found an occasional home in Hollywood. He had roles in sitcoms like “The Beverly Hillbillies” (as Dave Universe, a date for Elly May Clampett) and “The Monkees” (as a character named Bulk). He was also in a few films, including “Don’t Make Waves” (1967), in which he played Sharon Tate’s boyfriend.

“In Austria, I kept his cover of Muscle Builder magazine on the wall above my bed for motivation,” Mr. Schwarzenegger said in a statement after Mr. Draper’s death, “and when I saw him starring in ‘Don’t Make Waves,’ I thought, ‘My dreams are possible.’”

Mr. Draper, who was also a skilled woodworker, became one of Mr. Schwarzenegger’s training partners and built some furniture for his home in Santa Monica. “I learned his heart was as big as his pecs,” Mr. Schwarzenegger said.

Even as he was competing, Mr. Draper was abusing alcohol, marijuana and angel dust. (He said he also used steroids, sparingly, under a doctor’s supervision.) He continued to have problems, chiefly with alcohol, until 1983, when he was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.

Ms. Draper — who met her future husband at a gym in Capitola, Calif., near Santa Cruz — attributed his alcohol and drug use to the tensions brought on by competing and dealing with the demands of Hollywood.

“He got caught up in it, and I guess he couldn’t handle it,” she said in an interview.

Mr. Draper “loved to train, and he was very strong,” a fellow bodybuilder said. “He just didn’t like competing.”Credit...via Laree Draper

David Paul Draper was born on April 16, 1942, in Secaucus, N.J. His father, Dan, was a salesman; his mother, Anne (Simsek) Draper, was a homemaker.

Dave, who did not excel at team sports, got his first set of weights at age 10. By 12 he was fervently working out with barbells and dumbbells.

“They were my solid steel friends that I could trust,” he said in his book “A Glimpse in the Rear View” (2020), a compilation of columns from his website. “When the going got tough, when I kept missing the baseball, and when girls were far too cute to talk to, the weights were there and they spoke my language.”

He bought his gear at Weider Barbell in Union City, N.J. — part of Joe Weider’s empire of muscle magazines, fitness equipment, supplements and competitions — and at 19 became the weekend manager of a gym in Jersey City. He also got a part-time job in the Weider Barbell warehouse, where he worked out with the other shipping clerks. Mr. Weider, who was known as the Master Blaster, gave Mr. Draper his Blond Bomber nickname.

“He had the fire in the belly, don’t kid yourself,” Mr. Weider told GQ magazine for a profile of Mr. Draper in 2000. “He wouldn’t have gotten the kind of body he did without hard work.”

Remembering Hank Aaron, Colin Powell, Stephen Sondheim, Beverly Cleary, DMX, Cicely Tyson, Larry King, Olympia Dukakis, Chuck Close, Michael K. Williams, Bob Dole, Janet Malcolm and many others who died this year.

After winning Mr. New Jersey, Mr. Draper moved to Santa Monica, where he continued to work for Mr. Weider. As Mr. Draper’s profile in bodybuilding rose, he appeared on the covers of magazines published by Mr. Weider, like Muscle Builder and Mr. America, and in ads for his equipment.

Reflecting on his victory in the Mr. America event, held at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Mr. Draper wrote that he took pride in being a “muscle-building original.”

“I invented, improvised and rooted about, along with a small, disconnected band of rebels with a cause: to build solid muscle and might through the austere, hard labor of love — the lifting of iron,” he wrote in a column included in “A Glimpse in the Rear View.”

Mr. Draper with Tony Curtis in the 1967 movie “Don’t Make Waves.” “When I saw him starring in ‘Don’t Make Waves,’” Arnold Schwarzenegger said, “I thought, ‘My dreams are possible.’”Credit...via Laree Draper

In 1972 Mr. Draper sued Mr. Weider for not paying him for his endorsement of Mr. Weider’s gym and bodybuilding products. He settled for $17,500 before the jury was to deliver a verdict.

Mr. Draper did not stop lifting weights until a year before he died.

Once sober, he was hired as a special programmer at a gym in Santa Cruz. He married Laree Setterlund in 1988 and opened two World Gyms with her in the 1990s, which they owned and ran into the 2000s.

In addition to his wife, he is survived by his sisters, Dana Harrison and Carla Scott; his brothers, Don and Jerry; two grandchildren; and a great-granddaughter. His daughter, Jamie Johnson, died in 2016. His marriage to Penny Koenemund ended in divorce.

In one column, Mr. Draper contemplated what his life would have been like without weight lifting. The thought, he said, was unbearable.

“No sets? No reps? No cunning determination of how to bombard the delts or blast the biceps?” he wrote. “Days on end without pursuing extreme pain through maximum muscle exertion?” He added: “Full body, full strength, full breath and fulfillment are lost, gone, no more: nary a remnant to remind, disappoint or shame. Shoot me!”
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ProudVirgin69

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Re: RIP Dave Draper
« Reply #103 on: December 26, 2021, 07:17:53 AM »
Damn that's a low squat.

thats the all around greatest bodybuilding photo if you ask me:

-heavy a2g squat
-weightlifting comradery on display
-modest clothing, full heads of hair, lean builds
-bent bar & block wall makes for cool ambience

wes

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Re: RIP Dave Draper
« Reply #104 on: December 26, 2021, 08:09:56 AM »
thats the all around greatest bodybuilding photo if you ask me:

-heavy a2g squat
-weightlifting comradery on display
-modest clothing, full heads of hair, lean builds
-bent bar & block wall makes for cool ambience
Hell yeah,makes me want to train....toays guy make me want to puke.

funk51

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Re: RIP Dave Draper
« Reply #105 on: January 08, 2022, 09:48:41 AM »
MGM Town
Excerpted from
Brother Iron, Sister Steel
by Dave Draper
Pages 251-259.



The cattle call that served to locate Harry Hollard for Don’t Make Waves was not unlike the Gladiator scenario two years prior. The word flooded the gyms like Gatorade and the muscular actors buoyed to the surface. This time the setting was the famous MGM Studios in Culver City, California, where silent films were made and Gable, Bogart and Monroe applied makeup, lunched and shouted, whispered and winked into the polished lenses.

The privilege was monumental -- to enter the hallowed halls of the marvelously run-down studios that echoed of stardom and celebrity. No tourist could buy a ticket to this show. The hopefuls lined up to register their names in a less-than-orderly fashion. The distracted guards unwittingly gave me the opportunity to wander down the driveways between the massive studio walls, peer at their heights and pretend to be a part of their importance. I noted the blinking red warning lights at entry ways that indicated filming was under way: Silence, please … do not enter. The great and unseen powers were at work piecing together another lifetime full of wonders and more emotions than the ones we knew as our own, heroes and heroines more alive than the people with whom we worked, ate and slept. I couldn’t help but feel lost, ordinary and alone. Jealous is an ugly word.

I moved on and hastened across an abandoned and dusty streetfront with plank walkways, hitching posts and wooden wagons still before old clapboard storefronts and a sheriff’s office. Confused for a second I hesitated and glanced to the left and the right; long early morning shadows still formed and a breeze stirred an embroidered curtain in an open window above the Mercantile Shop. The strong smell of coffee wafted along the street and I imagined it came from the saloon or the hotel on the corner. Muted voices carried from a mingled distance and laughter gave a gaiety to the dark beyond the swinging doors of the parlor. Small chirping birds circled overhead and flapped their way to a sprawling oak tree beyond a white fenced cottage. A sudden roar broke the calm and antiquity of the make-believe world. I spun to confront a diesel tractor-trailer bearing down Main Street with a plush mobile home in tow that had “Director” written in bold letters above the front door.

I waved as they rumbled by me, just another prop man or electrician earning his wage. A Boeing 727 appeared briefly overhead in the near skies as it readied for landing at the Los Angeles International Airport only two miles away. I grabbed the wooden and metal spokes of an old wagon wheel and tugged to stretch my lats and flex my grip. The sound of a bullhorn in the distance seemed to be giving orders to dutiful wannabe actors -- something about the next bus to Back Lot Three. With pause and reluctance I returned to the group, wondering where I was going.

I remember sitting on a vast green and grassy slope where the camera on a dolly and a boom mike were positioned. It was sunny, warm and casual. One by one the performers who made the final cut were given their one minute before the directors, producers and assorted attendants. We were requested to walk up the lawn hand in hand with a Sharon Tate look-alike to a mark five feet from the camera, face each other, speak clumsy sweet nothings, turn and walk away. I thought for sure Larry Scott would get the part as he was a confident and capable guy who already done a beach party movie and was occasionally seen doing strings of cartwheels and back flips in good form across the manicured lawn. Mr. California, after all. Hollywood is full of surprises. The greatest part about being chosen for a co-starring role in a feature film is being chosen. The second part is working.

This ever happen to you? You recall incidents in your life when you were much younger and wish you could do them over again, not to make major changes, but to tidy them up a little? Born in the east coast vacuum, I was slow to appreciate the things that were happening to me in the brave new world.

Working side by side with Tony Curtis, who couldn’t have been more impressive, generous, fun and easy, was a privilege diluted by my stunted self-esteem. Tony got through to me and easily revealed his own insecurity, which we all share, when his words before the camera would not come. He stood with me out of camera and said, “Sometimes I can remember my lines, but they vanish when the director calls for action. I step off the set, close my eyes and in the blackness of my mind I’m able to relax and go back to work in thirty seconds. It happens to everybody.”

He genuinely laughed when he tried to lift a refrigerator that I’d been carrying around the set for most of the day. The crew dared him to move it to the background and it didn’t budge. He believed they nailed it to the floor to provoke his competitive nature, expecting him to move it or die. He called their bluff early on and I, on cue, walked over, grabbed it and carried it up a short flight of stairs… between scenes slapstick. The old refrigerator trick is always good for a few laughs. Just don’t ask me to tell a joke.

Sharon Tate was younger than I and a few solid steps ahead. We became friends like kids in school. I carried her books. She was wrapped up with Roman Polanski and I was married. She felt unthreatened and we could pal around and travel together when promotions required our presence. She held onto my arm and wouldn’t let go as our four-passenger aircraft worked its way through a storm on a flight to Charlotte for a preview of Don’t Make Waves. I treasure more than anything the late evening I saw Sharon at Los Angeles International Airport a few years later. She was with friends and dressed in black. She squealed my name and came running over to give me a big hug. We passed in the night like lost friends.

Did you know that Claudia Cardinale lives in a villa in Rome and has a sister who is a world famous photographer? We sat together in director chairs in the darkness of a soundstage the size of a football field. The day’s filming was complete and the entire set was closed down early for a holiday weekend. A three-man skeleton crew prepared to pick up two unfinished scenes, one with Ms. Cardinale and one with me. We yawned and talked about nothing, as there was nothing to talk about. But we did the awkward thing without awkwardness and it became a pleasure to be simple, unpretentious and ordinary. The next day we were scheduled to take a handful of publicity shots outside the same sound stage. She said she looked forward to it, presented her brief scene to the camera in one take and was gone. I was yet to climb behind the wheel of my bus and suffer the loss of my beloved Malibu.

Adventure in the daily life.
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mphgrove

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Re: RIP Dave Draper
« Reply #106 on: January 08, 2022, 07:22:32 PM »
Thanks for the Draper memories of the film. He captures those three actors in a nice way, Curtis as warm and funny, Tate as young and enthusiastic, and Claudia (one of the most beautiful women on the planet) as natural and serene.