Goodbye to a Chicago Legend: Sergio Mims (1955-2022) | Tributes

Among other favorite memories: Being a guest on his WHPK radio show, “The Bad Mutha’ Film Show” whenever I could. Three hours of solid conversation, film talk and laughter. He was a guest on my podcast, Christmas Movies Actually. Same thing. He always brought it up and told amazing stories that tied everything together during the conversation. Episodes of “Black Christmas,” “Lethal Weapon,” “It’s A Wonderful Life,” and “Dead Bang,” taped just a few months ago, would be pretty boring without it.

Going shopping with him at Reckless Records. We would meet there several times. One time, I went there with the intention of buying their Blu-ray of Viva Las Vegas (I saw it listed on their website. It was only $3). He got there first and beat me to it. I told him it was his, straight and square. Hey, he got there first, right? A week later, he mailed it to me. He wanted me to have it.

His Blu-ray commentary tracks. He could do it without looking at the notes. He knew. During the jam, he made one for “Song of the South”, just for his friends. What a gift!

Of course, I’ll always remember his catchphrase whenever the subject of watching movies in the 60s and 70s came up: “Hey,” he’d say with a mischievous grin. “I was there!”

He was there. He was here, too, with all of us, and our lives are better for him.

DAVID FOWLIE:

Every time I approached Sergio at a show or a film festival, he had a devilish smile and I knew right away that he had a story to tell. Whether that story was current or a tale from the past, he loved telling stories – it was a passion he was so good at and his enthusiasm was infectious. Yes, his knowledge of film and film history was vast and unparalleled (especially when it came to Chicago cinema history), but what I will always remember is how interested he was in the story and the life of others. He will be greatly missed.

DAVE CANFIELD:

It’s hard to write about Sergio without wanting to describe the mischievous glint he so often had in his eyes. I think it’s not really possible. This kind of magic is beyond words. I can only tell you that I always felt part of a special trick when I was with him. I was onto something. Most importantly I was with him to him. In my work as a theologian and film critic, I have grown to believe that walking alongside someone is the greatest spiritual gift. It’s not really about time, it’s about presence. Sergio often walked next to me. Asking how I was when I had to be noticed. He wanted my opinion because he thought it mattered. When you were with Serjhi you felt seen. Those little bits of encouragement (wasn’t Sergio ever encouraging?) will still walk alongside me.

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