John Agar was a cherished friend for some twenty years. He was truly one of the kindest, sweetest, most gentle souls I've ever known. He always called me "Stever." The last time I ever saw him was a few short weeks before he passed away at a nursing home in Los Angeles. As I peered my head into his small room, he looked up from his wheel chair, smiled, and said "Hiya, Stever." A few weeks after that on a Sunday afternoon I received a sad telephone call at home in Philadelphia from one of his sons, Martin Agar, telling me that his dad had passed away. It was one of the most disheartening telephone calls that I think I've ever received. Both John and his lovely wife Loretta were dear people. I miss them terribly.



Steve