Has any celebrity death had an unexpectedly profound impact on you?

I also remember exactly was when I heard that John Peel had died, too. (in the office of the Managing Director at work - I can't remember what I was there for, but I remember him telling me about Peel's death)

I just was kind of thinking about people who you never felt too much about one way or another and you were surprised at how you reacted upon hearing about their death and the subsequent depth of feelings you experienced for some time after. Like I said, Paula Yates is a good example of this for me.

a) I worked out that at the exact moment that her car crashed, I was having sex. This pleased me immensely.
b) Within a few hours I wanted Normal Telly back again. No more endless rolling "we think the Princess's body will be returned to Britain on..." news programmes, plz!

oh yeah, and Fred Rogers.

"unexpectedly profound impact" = I was very upset, but didn't go to a monastery or become a superhero or anything.

Cobain, but for more personal reasons (I had also debilitating stomach problems, but I was diagnosed, 'cured' and so on, and was not a madly under pressure rock star / cash cow to be kept working at all costs)

(I imagine it's too corny to say Wimbledon Football Club)

(I say 'if' because she's awfully pixie-like isn't she? Can't we just hope that she's some kind of magical little icelandic creature that never dies? Please?)

I was going to post this as well. I was completely torn up that weekend.

Also Billy Mackenzie and Stuart Adamson. Two guys whose music I'd grown up with and enjoyed (loved in Mackenzies case) and who seemed such unlikely candidates to commit suicide. Adamson especially, the circumstances of his death and having son seemed particularly poignant to me.

Jerry Garcia upthread is OTM for me too.

Paul Wellstone upthread is also OTM for me.

Also Jim Henson & Sammy Davis Jr. died on the same day, and that bothered me.

Bob Ross, you mean?

I'd say Kirstie McColl, for the same reasons as Rock above said Tim Buckley.

When Kurt Cobain was found, dead, i was living in Seattle. A friend who works in the music industry called me and said "Kurt's dead." I thought he was talking about a different Kurt, my friend Curt who was having a problem with heroin at the time. So I said "How? Why? Did he OD? Have you talked to his family?"
And my friend said "Not that Curt, Kurt Cobain!"
I was so relieved. And then I was sad.

I lived on Martha's Vineyard when John Kennedy Jr's plane crash happened. The helicopters from "search and rescue" were flying all day and night. Basically, on an island, you know that the helicoptors are a bad sign - someone is missing. A fisherman, a boater, JFK Jr.
The beaches were closed as pieces of the wreckage began to wash up.
I went out to a bar during this time, and there were maybe thirty reporters hanging out, wanting to interview people. I graciouslly accepted a bunch of drinks on their corporate dime, and told them that it was a tragedy of unknown proportions.

When Princess Diana died I was a housecleaner/maid/ servant. I was cleaning the kitchen, and my employers were sitting, stunned, in front of the television in the next room. I heard the announcement and walked into the room, asking "Is this true? What happened?"
They told me she had died and then suggested I should return to my tasks. I think they said "This shouldn't concern you."
Well, guess what, the vacuum cleaner is going to concern YOU. Dead princesses do not trump THIS princess. I vaccumed them right out of the house.

My mom woke me up with this charming sentence: "John Lennon was shot to death last night. Get up. You have to go to school."
A few years later, I was an undergrad at Barnard. My friend was having an affair with a guy who lived at the Dakota. After a night out partying,I left them to do their thing, and walked out of the Dakota to get a cab. it was the anniversary of the shooting. The doorman scooped up dozens of roses and gave them to me, saying "They'll just die here - take them home." There were thousands of flowers surrounding the building. I took the roses, got the cab, and wept .

I felt numb when I heard about John Peel, very sorry about Charlotte Coleman and I lay on my bed stared at the ceiling for about three hours when I found out Richey Manic had disappeared.

Elizabeth Hartman, an actress (You're a Big Boy Now, one of my favorite coming-of-age movies, and also, A Patch of Blue, I think is the name, the one where her character is blind and gets involved with Sidney Potier). She comitted suicide by jumping out a window.

Also Phil Hartmann.

OTM. I felt the same way.

Also, Dale Earnhardt. That guy was one of my childhood heroes. I used to be a huge NASCAR fan but I eventually stopped watching, since it wasn't cool, and anyway I was utterly convinced he'd never win the Daytona 500 after watching year after year and always being terribly disappointed. So I never saw when he won it, and I was in Europe when I heard about the crash. Back where I grew up there were Earnhardt memorials up in people's yards for at least a year after that.

Princess Diana. Ripped a hole through me. Again, no idea why: I'm no monarchist, and I hated all that Royal Wedding shite. And when the Queen had her Silver Jubilee, I like the street parties and everything, but we got wasted on speed and booze and slept up in the woods for days listening to "God Save the Queen" on a tinny cassette player with dying batteries. But Diana? I had a friend (female, mother, 30s) who died in a car accident around that time, so...

Ian fucking Curtis! Was no-one else devastated? If I'd known at the time New Order would coalesce from the shattered remains, I might have been semi-mollified, but as a teenager myself, Ian's stark death so young almost did it for me.

Lennon. Love em or hate em, the Beatles informed so much of who I was. It couldn't be otherwise if you were born in the 60s in England. When John was murdered, I was very lonely and sad and still recovering from Ian Curtis' death. Looking back, I have no idea how I got through those years, 1979/80.

Cobain. Loved Nirvana, and felt an affinity due to proximity, trite as that is.

Elliott Smith. The sheer self-involved brutality of it.

Peel. My usual optimism about the future of music and media has taken a (perhaps mortal) blow. Plus, I just miss him, somehow.

You are old.

Well, like I said, I was a teenager when he died. You work it out. ;-)