In the summer of 2008, my family found ourselves at a fundraising gala on Long Island’s North Shore, an event far removed from our usual family outings. My parents, though not typical gala-goers, had a penchant for events celebrating classic pop culture. This particular event promised celebrities from beloved television shows, sparking excitement, especially for my sixteen-year-old self and my thirteen-year-old sister. The mere possibility of meeting someone like Adam West, even though we knew him more recently for his voice work, including on Family Guy, was incredibly thrilling.
Despite a fierce storm that weekend, we braved the coastal roads, arriving at a grand Gold Coast mansion, the venue for the evening. Inside a large tent, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation for dinner, dancing, and, most importantly, celebrity encounters. As my family navigated through the crowded space, we spotted him – Adam West. He was the first celebrity we saw that night, and undeniably the coolest.
Taller than imagined, Adam West stood ramrod straight in his tuxedo, wire-rimmed glasses glinting under the tent lights. He was engaged in conversation in a corner, and my dad, with barely contained excitement, nudged us towards him. “Hello, Mr. West,” my father began politely. “We just wanted to say hello.”
Adam West turned, a warm smile spreading across his face. In his distinctive, low voice, instantly recognizable from his numerous roles, including Mayor Adam West on Family Guy, he asked which of his shows we knew him from. He listed Family Guy, King of Queens, and The Fairly Odd Parents. Notably absent from his list was Batman. Perhaps he assumed, correctly, that as teenagers, the 1960s Batman series and movie were before our time. While we had caught reruns, my sister and I were indeed more familiar with his contemporary roles. In fact, I distinctly remember his guest appearance on Kim Possible as the Fearless Ferret!
As we enthusiastically recounted our familiarity with his work, my dad, seized by a sudden, perhaps ill-advised, inspiration, turned to my sister. “You should ask Mr. West if you can do your impression of him!” he exclaimed.
Now, my sister did have a remarkably accurate Adam West impression, honed seemingly for her own amusement. The humor of a small preteen girl imitating the distinctive voice of Adam West, the voice of Mayor West from Family Guy, was not lost on me. However, the look of dawning horror on my sister’s face suggested this was not the moment for her talent to shine. My dad, however, oblivious to her mortification, beamed with paternal pride.
“It’s okay, Dad,” my sister mumbled gently, appreciating his enthusiasm but clearly wanting to bury herself in the dance floor. Undeterred, my dad repeated his suggestion, his beam unwavering. Adam West, still smiling politely, looked on, an air of amused uncertainty about him.
And so, she did it. My sister launched into a line she’d heard Adam West say on The Fairly Odd Parents, perfectly capturing his unique cadence. It was, under the circumstances, quite impressive. Adam West seemed genuinely surprised.
News of Adam West’s passing a few days ago at eighty-eight brought this memory flooding back. It’s a cherished family anecdote, highlighting West’s kindness and good humor about his career, a career that remarkably spanned generations and genres. It struck me that had my now-adult sister, still capable of that impression, met him recently, he might have included 30 Rock, The Big Bang Theory, Robot Chicken, or Powerless in his list of roles – all projects where he played versions of himself, or characters knowingly echoing his most famous role.
His legacy is fascinating: a constellation of roles orbiting his iconic Batman. My parents’ generation knew him as Batman, the caped crusader of their childhood. Yet, Adam West seemed aware that to my generation, his resonance might be less as Batman and more as “the man who played Batman,” epitomized by roles like Mayor West in Family Guy. He became a recurring, self-referential figure, constantly playing with his own image and the Batman legacy. Even as new actors donned the Batman cowl, Adam West continued to embody the idea of Batman, the actor who played Batman, in new and humorous contexts.
The original Batman series was unique in its blend of action and camp, seriousness and absurdity. Adam West’s post-Batman career amplified this duality. In an age of increasingly dark and brooding superhero films, his self-aware performances, like his role in Family Guy as the delightfully eccentric Mayor West, became a reminder of the inherent humor in the superhero genre. While cinematic Batmans grew grimmer, Adam West, with his impeccable comedic timing, kept the campy spirit of his Batman alive, reminding us not to take superheroes, or actors, too seriously.
There was a peculiar meta-humor in my sister imitating Adam West to his face – an imitation of a man who had, in a way, made a career out of imitating himself.
It seemed to amuse him too. He studied my sister, blushing after her brief performance. He glanced at my dad, beaming, and my mom, quietly chuckling. Then his gaze landed on me, my once-styled hair now a frizzy helmet thanks to the humidity, possibly resembling Toad from Mario Bros.
Adam West turned back to my father. “You have,” he declared theatrically, trying to suppress a smile, “an… interesting family.”
With a polite parting, Adam West, the man of one mask but countless (often animated) iterations of the same persona, moved on. We thanked him for his time and good humor. And my dad, ever supportive, complimented my sister on her impression – its accuracy, her good sportsmanship – unknowingly mirroring Adam West’s own self-deprecating humor.
