They finally got James Bond. Maybe it was Dr. No, but probably Goldfinger. Yes, James Bond died this week. The real and only James Bond – Sean Connery. The others were imposters. They were like Mall Santa’s. Sean was the real deal.
I read my first Ian Fleming book back in college. I had seen a review in Playboy Magazine (I only bought it for the articles). I couldn’t put the book down. Just about the time you thought that Bond was safe, another villain popped up in thin air. Fleming’s books were riveting. I read every one that came out, and usually in a single sitting.
Then Bond, James Bond, came to life. In 1962, a Welsh actor named Sean Connery starred in Dr. No, followed by From Russia With Love, Goldfinger, Thunderball, You Only Live Twice and Diamonds are Forever – all Ian Fleming novels brought to the big screen and all with Connery as 007, and a license to kill. If Sean smoked Chesterfields, I smoked Chesterfields. If he drank Jack Daniels, I drank Jack Daniels. And, of course, I like my martinis shaken, not stirred.
I and millions of other fans were devastated when Connery gave up the James Bond role. He had done it to perfection, but as a serious actor, he did not want to be stereo-typed.
Too late, Mr. Bond. To me, you, Mr. Sean Connery, were the one and only James Bond.