Last week brought the sad passings of both famed sex therapist Dr. Ruth Westheimer, at the ripe old age of 96, and fitness guru Richard Simmons, one day after his 76th birthday.

On the surface, the two over-the-top personalities might seem to have little in common. Westheimer’s parents died in Nazi concentration camps while Simmons’ were performers in New York clubs. She was trained in military sniping while he studied the arts as a struggling waiter.

And yet, at the same strange cultural moment in the 1980s, Karola Ruth Westheimer and Milton Teagle Simmons sprang to instant fame as Dr. Ruth and Richard Simmons, respectively. On the radio show Sexually Speaking and TV program The Richard Simmons Show, Dr. Ruth tackled sexual health and therapy from callers while Simmons bounced on stage doing aerobics. Within their particular worlds, however, both were outliers who found fame and success by being noticeably different and authentically themselves.

Dr. Ruth: A Progressive Voice in Conservative Times

Before Dr. Ruth came along, the 1970s featured sex educators or writers like Shere Hite and Nancy Friday – both fabulous feminist thinkers who concluded women were much more sexual and sensual than society allowed them to express. (Don’t believe me? Dust off a copy of My Secret Garden and get ready.) For what it’s worth, both were also conventionally beautiful, straight, white and thin – that is, very easy for society to accept as “sexy.”

Cue Dr. Ruth in 1980: over 50, short (4 foot 7) and stout, with thick spectacles atop a moon face that earned her the nickname “Grandma Freud.” She might have been the last person you’d expect to recommend masturbation, explain orgasm techniques or praise pornography and prostitution – let alone discuss each in detail – but that’s kind of the point of the sex grandma schtick. As with Sue Johanson (of the Sunday Night Sex Show) here in Canada, there was an odd comfort and some relief to talk about even the sexiest of sex stuff with someone like Dr. Ruth. If she could have this awkward conversation without judgement or shame – at a time when the subject of sex was still largely taboo – certainly you could too.

Dr. Ruth hosted radio and televisions shows about sex, appeared on magazine covers, entertained on late night talk shows and wrote children’s books. She also advocated for the LGBTQ community, including during the 1980s AIDS crisis that bred stigma and indifference in some conservative circles.

“She was a force who challenged misconceptions about women’s sexuality, offered support and acceptance to the gay community and held strong views about what makes a happy life,” New York Times reporter Catherine Pearson noted in a remembrance of Westheimer.  “Along the way, she became a touchstone for millions.”

Richard Simmons: A Fitness Champion For Us All

Similarly, Richard Simmons stood out in an era where celebrities set impossibly high fitness standards: the 1980s saw Arnold Schwarzenegger become Mr. Olympia while Olivia Newton-John got physical, Suzanne Somers hocked the ThighMaster and Jane Fonda convinced millions of people to invest in a VCR to watch her aerobic videos at home. What did all these famous fitness personas have in common? They were already famous … and fit.

Now consider Simmons. For anyone who didn’t want to buy a new expensive gadget or train professionally, there was Sweatin’ To The Oldies – an aerobic dance workout tape that, by design, recalled a time before you needed anything but your own body and some loud Motown. Simmons, meanwhile, wasn’t 6 foot 2 and 235 pounds of pure muscle like a certain former Mr. Universe, but 5 foot 7 and 150 pounds – a reasonable weight goal for normal people living normal lives.

Unlike his picture-perfect contemporaries, Simmons’ appeal came from his relatable backstory. Weighing 268 pounds when he graduated from high school, Simmons, at 25, moved to Los Angeles. He looked to join a gym but found that they all catered to the already fit. None were for people like him, who needed help getting there. Enter “Slimmons,” his motivation-focussed gym, which became the first step on his path to fitness guru.

In the ensuing years, Simmons built a fitness empire rooted in his Sweatin’ to the Oldies tape and DVD series but also including numerous weight-loss and recipe books, CDs and countless memorable talk show appearances over the years.

Following his death – and in a testament to how Simmons channelled his unique personality and brand into other forms of media – many fans shared clips of his 2003 appearance on the TV improv series Whose Line Is It Anyway?, when he famously played various “props” in a scene with stars Colin Mochrie, Ryan Stiles and Wayne Brady that left the audience, as well as host Drew Carey, in tears from laughter. (You can see the scene in the clip below.)

And if you’re wondering how beloved Simmons remained after almost a decade out of the spotlight in recent years, in March he tweeted a cryptic message about his own impending death. The resulting uproar from fans heartbroken by the news was so big that Simmons had to tweet a follow-up post to clarify that he wasn’t dying but, rather, “It was a message about saying how we should embrace every day that we have.”

Defined by Authenticity

Long before the social media age – where “influencers” with big personalities who buck conformity gain fame through clicks – Dr. Ruth and Richard Simmons earned enormous followings in their respective fields. (CBS noted, for example, that Simmons’ first Sweatin’ To The Oldies tape became “the highest-selling fitness VHS of all time, grossing more than $200 million” – talk about an influencer!) Yet, rather than cultivating the equivalent of the sort of near-perfect, but mostly fake, image and lifestyle that many flaunt on social media, the key to both Westheimer’s and Simmons’ success was rooted in the fact that they seemed like everyday people – albeit, in Simmons’ case, with added sequins.  

Both Simmons and Westheimer, once they reached superstardom, might have abandoned their pre-fame selves for a Hollywood makeover, like many celebrities do. Dr. Ruth could have donned big heels, contact lenses and modernized her distinct coif and ensemble. Simmons could have clipped his curly mane and traded his trademark sequins and short-shorts for a well-fitted suit.

But neither of these recently-departed gurus did any of the above, and for good reason: when the person and persona counteracts the established norm, authenticity is hard to come by, impossible to buy or fake, and you can’t get it back once you’ve lost it.

With the loss of Dr. Ruth and Richard Simmons, here’s what we’re really mourning: that rare example of authenticity in action, the proof that sometimes it pays to be yourself and the hope that your gusto will rub off just a bit the rest of us. 

That’s a lot and, for that, we’ll miss them.

RELATED:

Fitness Fads by the Decade: From Vibrating Belts to the ThighMaster

Ask Dr. Ruth: At 91, the Famed Sex Guru Has More Advice for Ramping Up the Romance

Back to the ’80s: How the “Decade of Decadence” Is Winning the Nostalgia Game