Buddy Hackett, one of America’s most beloved comedians, spent decades making audiences roar with laughter. But the man who built a career on his unmistakable voice and fearless humor spent his final years fighting a quiet, losing battle against his own body. When he died in the summer of 2003, it happened not in a hospital with doctors at his side, but quietly at home, with the woman who had stood by him for nearly half a century. Born Leonard Hacker in Brooklyn on August 31, 1924, Hackett grew up in a working-class Jewish immigrant family.
There was no money and no path to fame, but young Leonard discovered an early gift. Even as a child, he could make people laugh. He developed Bell’s palsy as a boy, which left one side of his face partially paralyzed and gave him a natural slur in his speech. Overweight and growing up in tough neighborhoods, he became an easy target.
But instead of using his fists, he learned to use humor to turn potential bullies into an audience. Comedy became his survival mechanism, and soon, his identity. After serving three years in the Army during World War II, Leonard Hacker returned home determined to perform. He paid his dues on the grueling Catskills resort circuit, enduring difficult crowds and cheap rooms before breaking through.
By the 1950s, renamed Buddy Hackett, he was rising fast. His Broadway run in *Lunatics and Lovers* made him a star, and Hollywood quickly followed. He appeared in major films like *The Music Man* and the all-star comedy *It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World*, holding his own alongside legendary performers. For a later generation, he became instantly recognizable as the voice of Scuttle the seagull in Disney’s *The Little Mermaid*.
But even at the height of fame, Hackett carried deep insecurities. He was convinced his appearance made him impossible to truly love, and his romantic life before marriage was unstable at best. That changed when he met Sher Cohen, a Brooklyn dance instructor who was unimpressed by his celebrity status. She rejected him several times before finally agreeing to a rainy Sunday date.
That single day changed everything. The couple married in 1955 and remained together for 48 years, a remarkable feat in the entertainment industry. Together they raised three children, including son Sandy, who later followed his father into comedy. Those who knew Hackett personally described him as nothing like the outrageous figure audiences saw on stage.
At home, he was quiet and sensitive, fiercely protective of his family. He kept his personal life completely separate from his stage persona. To Sherry, he was not the loud comedian America adored. He was simply her husband.
In the early 1990s, everything changed. Doctors diagnosed Hackett with severe coronary heart disease, with dangerously blocked arteries. Cardiologists told him he needed bypass surgery immediately, warning that without it, his heart would deteriorate until it failed. Hackett refused.
He did not want surgery or hospitals, insisting he could manage the condition with medication and determination. Doctors warned him that medicine would only slow the damage, not stop it. He ignored them. In 1996, during a live performance, Hackett suddenly became dizzy and short of breath.
The room spun, his chest tightened, and for the first time in his career, he lost control on stage. He walked off and never returned to full-time performing. The night effectively ended his career. He later insisted the collapse had been caused by recent gum surgery, but doctors strongly disagreed.
Behind the scenes, he was also battling advanced type 2 diabetes. Together, the two diseases were destroying his body. Walking across a room left him winded. Stairs became nearly impossible.
Eventually, he withdrew from public life almost entirely, deeply self-conscious about his physical decline. He refused to let people see him weak, staying home even when opportunities arose. He wanted fans to remember the energetic comedian, not the fragile man he believed he had become. One of the most emotional moments of his decline came when he sold his lifelong firearm collection.
Hackett had collected weapons for years, but not for violence. He admired the craftsmanship and history behind them. As his health worsened, he realized he could no longer safely maintain the collection. Selling it felt like surrendering his independence.
In his final years, Hackett and Sherry retreated to their beach house in Malibu, far from Hollywood. There, they founded the Singita Animal Sanctuary, rescuing abandoned dogs and cats. For Hackett, it became deeply personal. He spent his days caring for the animals, feeding them, cleaning cages, and giving comfort to creatures nobody else wanted.
It gave him purpose when comedy had vanished from his life. His only exceptions to retirement were annual fundraiser shows for the sanctuary, with no cameras and no Hollywood pressure, just the comedian helping animals he cared about. By 2003, his health collapsed completely. Roughly one week before his death, he suffered a severe stroke.
Sherry remained beside him constantly. During the final weekend of June 2003, Buddy Hackett died quietly inside his Malibu home. The official cause of death was complications from chronic heart disease and diabetes, the exact illnesses doctors had warned him about years earlier. He was 78 years old.
In accordance with his wishes, he was cremated privately, with no public grave and no celebrity memorial. For Sherry, however, the real heartbreak began after his death. Friends came to comfort her in the first devastating hours, but once everyone left, she faced an unbearable silence. After 48 years together, she no longer knew how to exist without him.
She described losing Buddy as feeling like losing half of her own body. For months, she disappeared from public life, focusing entirely on the animal sanctuary. But without his celebrity presence attracting donors, maintaining the rescue operation became incredibly difficult. Rumors later spread online claiming Hackett died broke and left Sherry financially ruined.
Those stories were false. He had substantial assets, though most of the wealth was tied to real estate. Their Beverly Hills home sat on one of the most valuable pieces of land in Los Angeles. Years later, Sherry finally sold that home, not out of desperation, but because she was ready to let go of the physical reminders surrounding her every day.
Through grief, legal battles involving family matters, and years of loneliness, Sherry continued protecting her husband’s legacy with dignity. She rarely spoke publicly. But when she did, she made one thing clear. The world knew Buddy Hackett, the comedian.
She knew Buddy Hackett, the man. And those were not always the same person. The audience saw laughter.
She saw the fear, the pain, the stubbornness, and the quiet heartbreak hidden underneath it all.
