On His Deathbed, Larry Linville Made Alan Alda Promise Just One Thing… And It Was Pure Frank Burns 
Larry Linville was 60 years old.
Stage IV lung cancer.
The man America loved to hate — Frank Burns — was running out of time.
He picked up the phone.
He called Alan Alda.
“Alan… I have a favor.”
Alan came to the hospital.
Sat beside the bed.
Larry looked thinner. Smaller. But his eyes still had that spark — that Frank Burns indignation ready to explode at any moment.
“What do you need?” Alan asked.
“When I die,” Larry said calmly, “I want you to speak at my funeral.”
“Of course. I’ll write something beautiful—”
Larry shook his head.
“No speeches. No long stories.”
“Just one sentence.”
Alan waited.
Larry smiled.
That crooked, self-important, slightly ridiculous Frank Burns smile.
“When you get up there… just say: ‘Frank Burns eats worms.’”
Alan stared at him.
Then laughed.
Then cried.
“You’re serious?”
“Completely,” Larry said. “For five years, America hated Frank Burns. But they loved hating him. That’s the gift.”
He took a slow breath.
“I want them to remember… it was always a joke. And I was in on it.”
On April 10, 2000, Larry Linville passed away.
At the memorial service, Alan Alda stood up.
No long tribute.
No dramatic monologue.
Just one line.
“Frank Burns eats worms.”
The room burst into laughter.
Through tears.
Because that was Larry.
He never asked to be the hero.
He never needed applause.
He played the fool.
He played the villain.
He let the audience boo him every week on M*A*S*H…
So everyone else could shine.
And in the end, he chose to leave the world the same way Frank Burns entered it—
With a punchline.
Not tragic.
Not heavy.
Just one last joke.
And somehow…
It was perfect.
