Oldest Living Star on the Walk of Fame

It’s a title nobody campaigns for and everybody eventually loses: the oldest living person with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. The answer changes — that’s the nature of the record — but as of this writing, it belongs to bandleader Ray Anthony, born in 1922, whose recording-industry star has been in the sidewalk for decades while its honoree sailed past 100. Let me tell you about him, the remarkable runners-up, and why this particular record tells a bigger story about Hollywood’s living memory.

The Answer: Ray Anthony

Ray Anthony — bandleader, trumpeter, and one of the last living links to the big-band era — is widely cited as the oldest living Walk of Fame star recipient. Born on January 20, 1922, Anthony led a hit-making orchestra in the 1940s and 50s, acted in films, and even had a brief, much-gossiped-about marriage to actress Mamie Van Doren. His star, in the recording category, honors a music career that started when Glenn Miller was still a sideman in Anthony’s orbit — Anthony actually played in Miller’s band before striking out on his own.

Think about that for a moment. The oldest living star on the Walk of Fame got his start in an orchestra led by Glenn Miller. That’s not a career; that’s a time machine. Anthony’s star has been in the sidewalk for generations, and he’s still here — a living bridge to an entertainment era that exists now mostly in recordings and photographs.

A necessary caveat, because this record is inherently fragile: “oldest living” is true only until it isn’t. Centenarians are, by definition, in the final chapter. If you’re reading this months or years after it was written, check the current holder — the Walk’s oldest living honoree is a title that passes quietly, without a ceremony.

The Runners-Up: Hollywood’s Centenarian Club

Anthony isn’t alone up there. The Walk’s oldest living honorees form a remarkable cohort — the last witnesses of Hollywood’s golden age:

Eva Marie Saint, born July 4, 1924 — the Oscar-winning star of On the Waterfront and North by Northwest, still with us past 100. Her career spans from live television’s golden age to Hitchcock to Superman Returns. Her star honors a motion-pictures career of extraordinary range and longevity.

June Lockhart, born June 25, 1925 — television’s eternal mother figure, from Lassie to Lost in Space. Her star, dedicated in 2013, came after a career that had already spanned the better part of a century. She started as a child actress in the 1930s. Let that sink in: her career began before World War II.

Dick Van Dyke, born December 13, 1925 — still dancing, still charming, still showing up. His star honors a television and film career that includes The Dick Van Dyke Show, Mary Poppins, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. He received his star in 2012, and his acceptance was pure Van Dyke: joyful, self-deprecating, and ageless.

Lisa Lu, born January 19, 1927 — who holds a different record (more on that below) and whose seven-decade career bridges Chinese and American cinema, from 1960s television to The Last Emperor to Crazy Rich Asians.

What strikes me about this group isn’t just the ages — it’s the span. Between them, they cover vaudeville’s tail end, radio’s golden age, the studio system, the television revolution, New Hollywood, and the streaming era. The Walk’s oldest living stars are, collectively, a living history of American entertainment.

A Different Record: The Oldest Person to Receive a Star

Don’t confuse “oldest living recipient” with “oldest person ever to receive a star” — they’re different records. The latter belongs to Lisa Lu, who received her star in 2025 at age 98, making her the oldest person ever honored at the time of dedication.

Lu’s story is one of my favorites in recent Walk history. She’d reportedly been offered a star several times earlier in her career and turned it down — she couldn’t imagine people walking on her name. At 98, she accepted, calling it “a testament to resilience and perseverance” and dedicating the moment to the next generation of Asian actors. The ceremony was emotional in the way the best Walk ceremonies are: a lifetime of work, finally set in brass.

Before Lu, the record belonged to James Hong, who received his star in 2022 at 93 — then the oldest living person to be honored. Hong’s 600-plus credits include Blade Runner, Big Trouble in Little China, Mulan, and Everything Everywhere All at Once. He’s the quintessential “oh, it’s that guy” actor, and his ceremony — with Jamie Lee Curtis and Daniel Dae Kim speaking — was a celebration of every working actor who ever waited their turn.

The Other End of the Scale

For contrast: the youngest person ever to receive a star was Patty McCormack, honored at 15 as part of the Walk’s initial 1960 wave, after an Oscar nomination for The Bad Seed at eleven. The Walk’s age range, from 15 to 98 at dedication, is one of the widest of any honor in entertainment — a reminder that the committee rewards the career, not the birth year.

It’s a poignant symmetry. McCormack’s star went in during the first construction blitz, when the Walk was brand new and Hollywood was honoring its past. Lu’s went in sixty-five years later, honoring a career that had been overlooked for decades. The sidewalk holds both stories without comment.

Why This Record Matters

I’ll be honest: “oldest living star holder” is a slightly morbid record to track. But I think it matters, because these are the last people alive who can tell you what the industry was like before it became the industry — before television, before the blockbuster, before the internet. When Ray Anthony talks about playing with Glenn Miller, he’s not reciting history. He was there.

The Walk of Fame is often treated as a tourist attraction, and it is one. But it’s also an archive — and its oldest living honorees are the archive’s last living documents. Every interview with them is a primary source. Every ceremony honoring them is a history lesson disguised as a photo op.

The full story of the honor itself — how stars are chosen, what they cost, what the symbols mean — is in what the Hollywood Walk of Fame is. The performers who started youngest have their own chapter in famous child actors. And for the honorees in their own words, the best celebrity interviews are where the legends tell it themselves.

The Next Generation of the Record

Behind the centenarians sits a remarkable bench of nonagenarians who will inherit the title in time. Mel Brooks, born June 1926, whose star honors a comedy career spanning stage, screen, and EGOT-adjacent glory — still cracking jokes in interviews at an age when most careers are distant history. James Hong, born February 1929, with 600-plus credits and the distinction of having been the oldest person ever to receive a star until Lisa Lu broke his record. William Shatner, born March 1931, whose star honors a television career that made him immortal twice over — first as Captain Kirk, then as himself.

What’s notable is that the Chamber doesn’t officially track “oldest living recipient” — there’s no plaque, no ceremony, no press release. It’s a record maintained by journalists, fans, and trivia enthusiasts, updated quietly when the title passes. That feels appropriate. The Walk honors careers, not longevity; the age record is something the public brings to the sidewalk, not something the sidewalk advertises.

But I keep coming back to what the record represents. Every one of these performers worked in an industry that no longer exists — the studio system, three-network television, the big bands. Their stars are fixed points. They are moving ones. And for as long as any of them are still here, the Walk of Fame isn’t just a monument to Hollywood’s past. It’s a place where the past still shows up.

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