I was saddened by the news that Michael Crichton has died of cancer at age 66. Ever since I first read "The Andromeda Strain" that summer of the first manned moon landing, Crichton has been one of my favorite authors. Once my grandmother, an avid mystery reader, learned that I liked the book, she turned me on to the many thrillers Crichton had written under the pseudonym John Lange.

Later, in college, I was impressed by Crichton's "Westworld," a film he not only wrote, but directed. The plot had some significant holes (although not significant enough for Crichton to avoid recycling it for "Jurassic Park"), but my wannabe filmmaker friends and I gave the guy kudos for making the most of a relatively low budget.


 Years later when I was copy desk chief at Chicago's Lerner Community Newspapers, I spent some time out in Los Angeles learning to operate the Information International Inc. electronic publishing system, a token-ring network that bridged the gap between cold type and desktop pagination. It did not escape me that Triple-I had done the groundbreaking robot-vision effects for "Westworld" -- although by the time I spent a week there, the company had abandoned its movie-industry efforts.

After I saw "Westworld," I fired off a letter to Crichton congratulating him on the movie and asking some goofy, fanboy questions. He was kind enough to reply.

Crichton wrote and directed some fine stuff. I'm sorry he's gone.

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