In the golden glow of television’s laughter-filled past, one comedic twist stood out above them all: a secret agent hiding in a mailbox. Today, that timeless joke has gone eerily still. David Ketchum—the quietly hilarious Agent 13 from Get Smart—has passed away at the age of 97, and with his departure, a beloved piece of absurd spy comedy has forever slipped into silence.
Ketchum breathed life into the bizarre and unforgettable role of Agent 13, a covert operative who spent more time wedged into mailboxes, trash cans, lockers, or even a washing machine than doing any actual spying. His recurring appearances, squeezed into absurd hiding spots, weren’t just a running gag—they became his signature. As he once confessed about being shoved into a washing machine: being 6′2″, “I can’t fit easily into cramped places… you try remembering your lines while you’re spinning around with water and soap squirting in your face!”.
Born in Quincy, Illinois, on February 4, 1928, Ketchum originally studied physics at UCLA. But wherever life took him—whether entertaining service members via the USO or night spots as a radio comedian in San Diego—it was comedy that ultimately called him to television’s spotlight.
Ketchum first charmed audiences as Counselor Spiffy in Camp Runamuck and later as Mel Warshaw on I’m Dickens, He’s Fenster. But it was Agent 13 in Get Smart—a character introduced in the show’s second season—that etched him into TV history. He appeared in thirteen episodes during the show’s original 1965‑1970 run, and reprised the part in the 1989 TV movie Get Smart, Again! and the short‑lived 1995 revival.
His talents weren’t confined to acting. Behind the scenes, Ketchum penned episodes for a bevy of classic shows—MASH*, Full House, MacGyver, The Love Boat, Laverne & Shirley, The Bionic Woman, Wonder Woman, The Six Million Dollar Man, and even Get Smart itself. He also made guest appearances on beloved sitcoms such as The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Happy Days, Green Acres, Mork & Mindy, and more.
Ketchum passed away on August 10, 2025, in Thousand Oaks, California, leaving behind his wife Louise (whom he married in 1957), their two daughters, three grandchildren, and a great‑grandchild.
Today, as we bid farewell to the man who made a fire hydrant and mailbox comedic hideaways, his family urges fans to remember him with laughter—not emotion. “Enjoy one of his classic performances,” they said, “in remembrance of his quick wit, gentle heart and cinematic spirit.”
