David White

 Remembering: David White** and **Bernard Fox** were two distinct actors from *Bewitched*. David White portrayed Larry Tate, Darrin’s sharp-dressed, often flustered boss at McMann & Tate, while **Bernard Fox** played the delightfully eccentric Dr. Bombay, the warlock physician who arrived in a puff of smoke and a swirl of comic charm. Since your query asks specifically about **Bernard Fox’s** death, burial, and legacy—even though it opens with David White’s name—I’ll focus on Bernard Fox, whose memorable performances continue to enchant fans of classic television.

Bernard Fox passed away on **December 14, 2016**, at the age of **89**. He died in **Van Nuys, California**, due to **complications from heart and respiratory failure**. In his final years, Fox had been in declining health, but those close to him reported that his signature wit, warmth, and Welsh lilt remained intact until the end. His death marked the quiet farewell of a consummate character actor whose career spanned over six decades, from British stage and radio to Hollywood film and television. Though never seeking leading-man status, Fox brought depth, humor, and humanity to every role—most indelibly as the bumbling yet endearing Dr. Bombay on *Bewitched*.

Following his death, Bernard Fox was **cremated**, and his **ashes were kept privately by his family**. Unlike many of his contemporaries interred in famous Hollywood cemeteries, Fox does not have a public grave or memorial headstone. This reflects both his modest nature and his family’s preference for privacy during a time of grief. For fans who wish to pay tribute, there is no pilgrimage site—but his living memorial exists in reruns, streaming episodes, and the enduring affection audiences feel for his whimsical performances. Dr. Bombay’s entrances—complete with swirling smoke, a knowing glance, and a dry quip about “witchcraft, my dear”—remain some of the most cherished moments in television history.

What Bernard Fox left behind as his “best things” are not objects, but **moments of joy, whimsy, and human connection**. As Dr. Bombay, he embodied the perfect blend of authority and absurdity—a magical practitioner who treated love potions with the same seriousness as a common cold. His performance added a layer of sophisticated playfulness to *Bewitched*, reinforcing the show’s central message: that magic is most meaningful when it serves kindness, family, and laughter. Beyond *Bewitched*, his work in *Hogan’s Heroes* (as the hapless Colonel Crittendon), *The Andy Griffith Show*, and films like *The Guns of Navarone* showcased his versatility and professionalism—earning him the quiet respect of directors, co-stars, and audiences alike.

Today, Bernard Fox’s legacy thrives wherever *Bewitched* is watched and loved. His scenes continue to introduce new generations to the gentle, intelligent humor of classic television—a style rooted in character, timing, and emotional truth rather than spectacle. In an age of digital effects and AI-generated imagery, Fox’s authentic, human performances serve as a reminder that true charm lies in presence, not perfection. Though his ashes rest privately with loved ones, his spirit endures in every puff of theatrical smoke, every twinkling eye, and every viewer who still smiles at the sound of his voice saying, “I’m a physician… of a sort.” That enduring warmth is the best thing Bernard Fox kept for us—and it remains, like his magic, beautifully real.