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

Among other favorite memories: Guesting on his WHPK radio show, “The Bad Mutha’ Film Show” anytime I could. Three solid hours of conversation, film talk and laughter. Him guesting on my podcast, “Christmas Movies Actually.” Same thing. He always brought it and told amazing stories that tied everything together during the talk. Episodes of “Black Christmas,” “Lethal Weapon,” “It’s A Wonderful Life” and “Dead Bang,” recorded just a couple months ago, would have been pretty dull without him. 

Going shopping with him at Reckless Records. We would meet there a few times. Once, I went there with the purpose of buying their Blu-ray of “Viva Las Vegas” (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, fair and square. Hey, he got there first, right? A week later, he put it in the mail and sent it to me. He wanted me to have it. 

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

Of course, I’ll always remember his catchphrase anytime the subject of seeing films in the ‘60s and ‘70s came up: “Hey,” he’d say with a devilish grin. “I was there!” 

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

DAVID FOWLIE:

Every time I approached Sergio at a screening or a film festival, he had a mischievous grin, and I knew right away 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 that 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 movie theater history), but what I’ll always remember is how interested he was in storytelling and the lives of others. He will be sorely missed. 

DAVE CANFIELD:

It’s hard to write about Sergio without wanting to describe the mischievous glint he so often had in his eye. Not really possible I suppose. That kind of magic is beyond words. I can only tell you that I always felt part of some special chicanery when I was with him. I was in on something. More important I was with him. In my work as a theologian and film critic I’ve grown into the idea that to walk alongside someone is the greatest of spiritual gifts. It’s not really about time but presence. Sergio walked beside me often. Asking how I was when I needed to be noticed. Asking for my opinion because he thought it mattered. When you were with Sergio you felt seen. Those little bits of encouragement (was Sergio ever not encouraging?) will still walk alongside me. 

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