He was supposedly a devout Christian, but was also an alcoholic and serial philanderer. He constantly lied about his own achievements and downplayed the achievements of other motorcycle jumpers. At the high of his popularity, he beat a man (a promoter) with a baseball bat while another held him, allegedly for writing something untrue about him. He did a year in prison for that.

Evel was certainly brave and exciting to watch, but he was not a nice guy or even a decent person.

Evil Knievel was a two bit thug and phony huckster. At the Snake River disaster he caused a near riot when he

threw a phony copy of his $50,000 diamond mounted cane into a crowd of bad ass bikers that fought tooth and

nail over it. Lost teeth, broken bones all for a phony piece of crap he claimed was worth $50,000. Asshole.

Then there was the jail sentence for breaking the arm of a writer that told the truth about Mr. Knievel.

Joshua Seftel is wrong to omit these real and true attributes of the human and failing lout Knievel.

Knievel may have earned $60 million dollars but he was a thug and a rotten individual.

I've never understood why people give the media free content unless they're getting something from the media in return. Sometimes that's spin doctoring, sometimes that's PR, theoretically it could be money--but for gods' sake get something. That way it's at least as moral as prostitution.

If Evel Knievel had appeared on Bryant Gumbel's newsmagazine show on CBS with taking any fee, then Bryant Gumbel should have done the show without being paid. Was that supposed to be the deal? I didn't think so.

What's wrong with asking for an appearance fee? CBS certainly would have profited by using Evel Knievel as an attraction on one of their shows. Why shouldn't he get a share of that for his time and trouble? (Remember that you're talking about a person who was dying of liver disease.)

You mean leaped about 1/5 across a canyon.

This must be some kind of sick joke -- Salon was hacked, right? A "motorcycle daredevil"? What is this, the 1930s at some backwater hick carnival? The only positive way to look at this story is that the "motorcycle daredevil" was the kind of thick synthetic cheez-whiz that Nixon and Vietnam and Elvis Presley embodied -- that avocado-colored kitchen appliance veneer of sheer and utter... vapidity. No substance, no body, nothing.

Somehow beating a former business partner with an aluminum baseball bat and then avoiding paying the awarded damages for thirty years fits right in with the image. True Americana. Maybe "Evel" should have performed a "motorcycle daredevil" stunt for the survivors of Bhopal -- that seems to fit awfully well.

Where's Dr. Thompson when you need him?

According to boxing promote Bob Arum, who knew Evel Knievel well: “He used to always say the three things he hated the most were New Yorkers, lawyers and Jews..."

Yeah, he'll be missed.

Was he a Salon editor too? I never knew that.

I think the author's infactuation with Knievel is tied to his childhood. I know mine is.

I was 7-13 years old during the height of Knievel's fame. We kids rode our bikes everywhere, unlike kids today. I must have watched the Caesar's Palace jump thousands of time, but it was not until I was an adult that I even realized what Caesar's Palace was.

It seemed like Knievel and others were on Wide World of Sports every Saturday lining things up and jumping over them: buses, barrels, cars, you name it, it got lined up and jumped.

Being young and stupid kids, we had to emulate that so we were constantly building make shift ramps and jumping over ditches, toys and other things, especially after we saw the Evel Knievel movie starring George Hamilton. (Ironically, I saw a DVD of that movie for a $1 yesterday at a discount store).

Trying to emulate Knievel's jumps was pure and simple fun. Many of my best child hood memories are tied to my bike and the stunts my friends and I attempted. I even have my own personal "Caesar's Palace" moment.

To me, any sadness over Knievel's death is not really based upon what type of person he was. It's more a reflection of our childhood memories.

Nice isn't the point.

Back in the 70's, before PR firms had trained sports figures how to behave like wonderful human beings on camera, plenty of them were shameless tools. On my street, we knew that Evel Knievel was no Alan Alda. That was his whole allure. He was a role model all right, the ultimate one. The guy was taking danger and excitement where no had ever dared, and that was all we cared about. Inspired by Evel, I blew out two or three wheels on my CCM Mustang (pre-BMX era - high handlebars, fat slicks and a banana seat with sissy bar) getting major air off ever-higher plywood jumps we built out on the street.

Winters, taking inspiration from radical hotdog skiers like Wayne Wong and Tony Sayler, we built massive ski jumps in the nearest ravine, where we pulled scary aerials (daffys, spread eagles, 360s, mule kicks and backscratchers - none of us quite mustered the onions to try a flip).

The way I see it, I, and millions of men my age, owe a heap of gratitude to Evel Knievel for nudging us into finding our confidence, and building up our coordination, fitness and agility. At 48, I'm still bagging major air on my mountain bike in that same ravine. And I won't even talk about what I occasionally get up to on motorcycles, in case my mum reads this.

I'll take the crazy Evel days over the PC, safety-police, shitty parents era we live in now.

Rest in Pieces, Evel. Yee-Haaaaa!

I had an Evel Knievel doll.

I had great times crashing his little motorbike into things. If my memory isn't playing tricks on me, it was one of those that revved up when you rolled it backwards.

Lots of the world wasn't carpeted back then, which was great for playing with toy bikes but not so great when it came to getting splinters in your knees.

I also have clear memories of the crappy George Harrison movie where some stuntman winds up in a coma and they sneak in and pull the plug on him... for me, that crappy movie was a glimpse into a world of adult decision-making, courage and responsibility for the fallen.

The Evel Knievel I remember is that one, larger than life, as indestructible as the doll you throw down the stairs over and over again while making crash noises. Whatever sort of person he was in reality, it was bound to be a letdown.