PD Editorial: A comic genius felled by depression

Robin Williams was an actor’s actor, a comic’s comic. His frenzied comedy, brilliant improvisations and spot-on impersonations always left us with side-splitting laughter. His death leaves a void, here in the Bay Area as well as in the entertainment world.

As an entertainer, Williams did it all - and did it masterfully.

Entertainment Weekly once declared him “the funniest man alive.” From stand-up comedy, he moved to TV, where he captured audiences as Mork, the smart-aleck alien from Ork. He won an Oscar as the empathetic therapist in “Good Will Hunting” and was nominated for Academy Awards for three other movies roles: the rebellious disc jockey from “Good Morning, Vietnam,” the inspirational poetry teacher from “The Dead Poets Society” and as a deranged homeless man in “The Fisher King.”

Here in the Bay Area, Williams was more than a celebrity. He was a neighbor.

Raised in Marin County, he studied acting at the College of Marin and got his start in local comedy clubs. In today’s letters, Skip Sommer of Petaluma describes Williams as a 21-year-old bus boy who couldn’t resist putting on a show for diners at the Lark Creek Inn in the early 1970s. “I asked Robin to just let his humor overflow when he was off-duty, but that didn’t work with Robin Williams,” Sommer said. “When he was on, he was on.”

As his career blossomed, Williams remained a familiar face in the Bay Area, where he was generous with his time, money and seemingly boundless energy for a variety of causes. He encouraged young artists in Marin County and revved up the crowd at AT&T Park during the World Series.

In Sonoma County, Williams helped a Santa Rosa comedy club get off the ground and, after 12-year-old Polly Klaas was kidnapped from her Petaluma home in 1993, he showed up unannounced to help raise money for the search effort.

Unfortunately, no one escapes life’s vicissitudes.

Williams was remarkably, admirably candid about his personal demons - weaving his battles with alcohol and cocaine into his comedy routines and discussing them in interviews.

He spent part of the summer in a rehabilitation center in Minnesota, and a publicist said he was suffering from severe depression when he took his own life on Monday.

That’s an affliction he shared with millions of Americans.

Depression is a debilitating and, as shown by William’s death, deadly disease. And it is just that, a disease, like diabetes or the flu, only it affects the brain. It can be treated in most cases, but it must be diagnosed. All too often, a stigma gets attached to mental health issues, and people fail to seek proper treatment.

Despite advances in the treatment of depression and related disorders, the World Health Organization says they account for about one in five disability cases.

If something positive can come from Williams’ death, let it be a greater understanding of mental health issues, stepped up funding for research and a commitment to ensure that help is there for those in need.