A HOLLYWOOD HERO: JACK NICHOLSON

When the planes struck the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001, Jack Nicholson was in Los Angeles, seated alone in his Mulholland Drive home, glued to the television. He didn’t move for hours. By the end of the first day, he’d already canceled a long-planned charity golf tournament, paused talks for a new film with Warner Bros., and phoned his assistant to pull him out of an upcoming public appearance. Those close to him said Nicholson’s reaction was swift, solemn, and deeply personal.

Friends remember that he didn’t eat much during those days. One recalled entering his living room the evening after the attacks and finding him still in the same spot, eyes fixed on the screen. “He hadn’t changed clothes. The ashtray beside him was overflowing. He looked up at me and said, ‘You can’t pretend it’s business as usual, not now,’” the friend said.

Nicholson, typically charismatic and open in interviews, refused to speak publicly about 9/11. Not a single televised statement. No press release. No social commentary. But his actions behind closed doors told a different story. Within 72 hours of the attack, he sent out anonymous donations to several New York-based emergency relief groups. A quiet phone call went out from his lawyer’s office to a Manhattan firehouse, an inquiry about what supplies were needed. He then arranged for protective gear, boots, and medical kits to be shipped to a fire department without identifying himself as the benefactor.

A retired NYPD detective, who later learned of the donation through internal channels, said, “It came from a private source on the West Coast. The only hint was a handwritten note that said, ‘Thank you for being brave when the world went dark.’ No name. But someone on the force recognized the handwriting from a signed photo hanging in a precinct office. It was Jack.”

Nicholson’s silence wasn’t detachment. It was a vow. One of mourning. He canceled plans to attend a high-profile celebrity gala later that week, saying, “This isn’t a week for business. This is a week for mourning.” That quote, relayed by a friend to Vanity Fair, never appeared in official print. It was passed on quietly, like everything else he did during that time.

He even stepped away from the spotlight entirely for several weeks. Producers who tried to reach him were told he wasn’t taking calls. The gate to his estate remained locked, and even his usual crew of poker buddies was told to wait. “He took it hard,” said one longtime friend. “I mean, Jack’s not the kind of guy who cries at movies. But that week… he’d choke up every time they replayed that footage.”

FORGOTTEN ONES: BRIAN EPSTEIN

Other than Beatles fans, does anyone remember the name of Brian Epstein? He was an English music entrepreneur who discovered and managed the Beatles. He was often referred to as a "fifth" member of the group. Epstein was born into a family of successful retailers in Liverpool, who put him in charge of their music shop. Here he displayed a remarkable gift for talent-spotting, and got a strong intuition about the potential of an unknown four-man group, The Beatles, at a lunchtime concert at Liverpool's Cavern Club in 1961. Although he had no experience of artist management, Epstein put them under contract and insisted that they abandon their scruff-image in favor of a new clean-cut style, with identical suits and haircuts. He then persuaded George Martin of the prestigious EMI group to produce their records. In August 1962, drummer Pete Best was replaced with Ringo Starr, and the group's familiar line-up was established. Within months, the Beatles' fame had swept the world, and Epstein accompanied them to America, where he was besieged by merchandising offers, but had signed away 90 per cent of the rights in advance. This is viewed as his one miscalculation. Some of Epstein's other young discoveries had also prospered at this time under his management.

 
They included Gerry and the Pacemakers, Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas, Tommy Quickly, and Cilla Black, his only female client. As a gay man, Epstein had to observe great discretion in public, since homosexuality was still illegal in the UK, although he tolerated a certain amount of banter about it in private. The stress of managing the world's first supergroup took its toll, and he withdrew into drink and pills. On August 27, 1967, Epstein died at age 32, from an accidental overdose of sedatives. Epstein was found on a single bed, dressed in pyjamas, with various correspondence spread over a second single bed. He is buried at Liverpool Long Lane Jewish Cemetery in Liverpool, England. The Beatles did not attend Epstein's funeral, both to allow his family some privacy and to avoid attracting fans and the media...

ROBERT LEVITT JR: LIVING IN MERMAN'S SHADOWS

When people think of Ethel Merman, they remember one of Broadway's most powerful voices and one of the most influential musical theater performers of the twentieth century. What is less widely known is the story of her son, Robert Levitt Jr., a man who spent much of his life avoiding the spotlight that defined his famous mother's career. His journey is a fascinating blend of privilege, personal struggle, family tragedy, and ultimately a search for purpose far removed from celebrity. 

Robert Levitt Jr. was born on August 11, 1945, to Ethel Merman and her husband Robert Levitt, a newspaper executive. Growing up in Manhattan, he experienced a life of comfort and wealth that came with having one of the biggest stars in America as a parent. Yet beneath the glamorous surroundings, his childhood was more complicated than many outsiders might have imagined. According to his own recollections, Merman's demanding career often kept her away from home, and he frequently felt emotionally disconnected despite the family's financial success. 

After his parents divorced and his father later died while Robert was still young, family life became increasingly complex. Merman's subsequent marriages brought new parental figures into the household, including airline executive Robert Six. Robert Jr. later spoke openly about witnessing tensions within the family and feeling that the adults around him paid little attention to his emotional development. While he enjoyed privileges that most children never experience, he also described feeling largely left to navigate adolescence on his own. 

His teenage years proved difficult. Given unusual freedom at a young age, he reportedly skipped school, drifted without much direction, and took advantage of the resources available to him as the child of a celebrity. Looking back, he described himself as a young man lacking guidance and structure. Unlike many celebrity scandals that dominate headlines, Robert's struggles were quieter but no less significant. They reflected the challenges that can arise when fame and wealth exist without consistent parenting and personal support. 

Tragedy struck the family in 1967 when Robert's sister, Ethel "Nicole" Levitt, died from an accidental overdose. Her death devastated those closest to her and remained a painful chapter in the family's history for decades. Family members later recalled that Ethel Merman never fully recovered from the loss of her daughter and often spoke about missing her.

Another painful episode came through Robert's marriage to actress Barbara Colby. Colby was a respected stage and television performer whose career was steadily growing in the early 1970s. Although the couple eventually separated, tragedy struck again when Colby was murdered in Los Angeles in 1975. The crime remains unsolved. Public records indicate that Robert and Barbara were no longer together at the time of her death, but the event nevertheless became another sorrowful chapter connected to his life story.

Despite these setbacks, Robert gradually found his own path. Instead of pursuing fame as a performer, he gravitated toward backstage theater work. His early opportunities may have come through family connections, but over time he developed professional relationships and earned the respect of mentors who helped him mature both personally and professionally. Unlike his mother, whose career depended on public recognition, Robert appeared more comfortable working behind the scenes. 

As he grew older, Robert became increasingly involved in charitable and community-focused activities. Reports about his later years describe involvement with environmental causes and nonprofit organizations, including arts-related charities that assist underserved youth. Rather than embracing a celebrity lifestyle, he devoted much of his energy to service and advocacy. Those efforts suggest a man attempting to create meaning through helping others rather than seeking attention for himself. 

One of the most meaningful aspects of his later life was his relationship with an adopted son who had previously experienced homelessness. Robert reportedly took enormous pride in that relationship and viewed it as one of his greatest accomplishments. For many observers, it represents a powerful contrast to the loneliness and lack of guidance he often described in his own childhood

His relationship with Ethel Merman remained complex throughout his life. He acknowledged the extraordinary talent and success that made her a Broadway legend, but he also spoke candidly about the emotional distance he felt growing up. At the same time, he remembered small moments of affection, including a bedtime tradition in which mother and son sang together before she left for evening performances. Those memories suggest that although the relationship was imperfect, genuine love still existed beneath the pressures of fame and demanding careers. 

Today, Robert Levitt Jr. is remembered less for notoriety than for resilience. He endured family loss, difficult personal years, and the burden of growing up in the shadow of an American icon. Yet he also forged his own identity through theater work, charitable efforts, and meaningful relationships. His story serves as a reminder that the children of famous people often experience challenges that are invisible to the public. While Ethel Merman spent her life commanding center stage, her son ultimately chose a quieter path, one defined not by applause but by perseverance, compassion, and the determination to build a life on his own terms...

THE LAST DAYS OF GENE KELLY

The decision by Gene Kelly’s widow not to organise a funeral for her late husband when he died in 1996 no doubt surprised many, but she has now revealed the wish came from the Singin’ In The Rain star himself before he passed away.

The legendary actor and dancing star died at the age of 83 following a series of strokes, shortly after he married his third wife Patricia Ward Kelly. His declining health stemmed from strokes he suffered in July 1994 and February 1995, from which he never fully recovered.

Patricia tours the world talking about Gene in which she stands in front of a crowd and reads back, plays and recites some of their memories together – portraying a more personal side to the legendary star. And one subject she touches on is his declining health in his final years.

“I talk about this in the show because a lot of people don’t talk about the end of life and I think it’s really integral. It’s part of it, talking about grief and loss,” she said. “He was in and out ill for much of the time we were together. A lot of it was kept out of the press, we would sneak into hospitals as best we could. He really did face the end of his life with such grace and such dignity. It was really a lesson in how to deal with difficulty, and it was really a bonding time for the two of us.”

The pair first met at the Smithsonian in Washington DC, US, in 1985, when he was the host for a television special about the museum and she was a writer on the project. Despite their 47-year age gap, they enjoyed more than a decade of blissful happiness together, with Patricia helping to care for him before his death.

At the time, she was helping to write down his memories for a book about his life, so has records of almost all of their conversations and movements. She claimed patient confidentiality wasn’t so much of a thing in the ’90s and they’d have nurses selling stories to the press about Gene as he battled illness in his final years. In fact, she claimed some journalists even dressed up as priests to sneak in themselves.

“It was awful. People assume that a celebrity will have the best, but in fact I think it’s very, very hard for a celebrity, very difficult. But in a way it brought us closer, we were fighting the same fight. Of course I was writing down everything, which was a way for me to cope,” she explained.

“As long as I was writing, he was still alive. But then the problem is you realise when you stop writing, what happens then?”

While Patricia said she had grown up herself in a household that spoke openly about death, it wasn’t something she’d touched on initially with Gene. However as he grew older that changed and she expressed pride in how open he became with her.

“It was something that was very familiar when I grew up with my family, so I just felt that I wanted to know exactly what he wanted,” she said. “I assured him that I would do exactly what he wanted me to do.

“I think it was really good for him because, here was a guy from a different generation talking about things that you just generally didn’t talk about. I have to give him a lot of credit, for a man of that age and that stature to really assess and reassess his life and also to consider the end of life as frankly as he did, and lay it out.

“I was very proud of him. And it helped me a lot because I knew, people have such interesting feelings and thoughts about death and the final days, so I just needed to know what he wanted. I stuck to that and I knew, if I took any flack in the public, the press or anything, I would know that I did what he asked me to do. You have to do that for somebody, you have to make that promise.”

In the end, it was Gene’s wish not to have a memorial service or funeral, instead keeping the mourning private for his family. While many will no doubt have been surprised by the decision, Patricia explained it followed a life lived in the limelight – with his final wish for it to happen behind closed doors.

“He was very specific, he wrote that out – I had him write it out and notarise that!” she admitted. “He didn’t want to be buried anywhere, he said, ‘I’m tired of being on a tour bus route. Every time we would leave our house the tour bus would be going by and would follow us. He said, ‘For me it’s dust to dust’, he didn’t need to have a big memorial some place. I really understand that.

“I think some people think they have to go someplace, but for me he’s just always here so I don’t need to go to a particular spot to mourn him. He was very thoughtful.

“I think what helped him was experiencing the death of so many of his friends. He saw what happened to them, so it also helped to guide his choices. We’d sat through a lot of memorial services and visited a lot of gravesites, so he decided what he wanted.”

Before meeting Patricia and settling down, Gene had always insisted he would never marry again following the death of his second wife Jeanne Coyne. The couple had two children together, while Gene already had a daughter with his first wife Betsy Blair, who he divorced in 1957.

However, Patricia admitted it crept up on him and after five years, he eventually popped the question. She recalled: “I think by falling into this relationship through work… we set out to work together and then the other just came upon us both, it wasn’t until five years into being together when I’d lived with him the whole time that he finally got around to it.”

REFLECTIONS: BUTTERFLY MCQUEEN ON GONE WITH THE WIND

Actress Butterfly McQueen had this to say about her famous role in the 1939 classic: "Now I am happy I did 'Gone with the Wind.' I wasn't when I was 28, but it's part of black history. You have no idea how hard it is for black actors, but things change, things blossom in time."

Originally a dancer, Butterfly McQueen first appeared in film in 1939 as Prissy, Scarlett O'Hara's maid, in the film "Gone with the Wind." Often typecast as a maid, she said: "I didn't mind playing a maid the first time, because I thought that was how you got into the business. But after I did the same thing over and over, I resented it. I didn't mind being funny, but I didn't like being stupid."

While directing the scene where Prissy says, "Oh Miss Scarlett! I don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' babies," director George Cukor told Vivien Leigh to actually slap McQueen and to make it as realistic as possible, and directed McQueen to scream. After many takes McQueen broke down in tears, complaining that Leigh was hitting her too hard. In a later interview, McQueen said that she "bargained" with the others, stating that if Leigh hit her, she would NOT scream, but if Leigh's hand only passed close to her face with the illusion of hitting her, she would scream as loudly as she could. McQueen also giggled and said that she thought "Prissy should have been slapped often, because she was horrid!"

McQueen appeared in an uncredited role in "Mildred Pierce" (1945) (where she had a good amount of screen time) and played a supporting role in "Duel in the Sun" (1946). By 1947, she had grown tired of the ethnic stereotypes she was required to play and ended her film career. McQueen received a bachelor's degree in political science from New York City College in 1975 (she was 64)...

MUSIC BREAK: JAYE P. MORGAN - BROTHERHOOD OF MAN

 

RIP: TIM CURRY

Tim Curry, the English actor and singer best known for The Rocky Horror Picture Show, has died at age 80, according to an initial report from TMZ. Entertainment Weekly has reached out to Curry’s representatives for confirmation.

Per the outlet, Curry died Tuesday night at his Los Angeles home, after enduring “serious health issues for more than a decade.” The LAPD confirmed to  that officers responded to a death investigation for a male in his 80s on Tuesday at 11:20 P.M. TMZ noted that “no foul play” was suspected at the time of his death.

The three-time Tony-nominee and winner of a Daytime Emmy Award, Curry will forever be known for creating the role of Dr. Frank-N-Furter, the “sweet transvestite from Transexual, Transylvania,” in The Rocky Horror Show stage production and follow-up film, The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Curry met the show’s composer, lyricist, and book writer Richard O’Brien when Curry was in the London production of Hair in 1968 and O’Brien was in the touring company in 1968. Though others have played the mad scientist at “The Frankenstein Place” over time — including an untold number of amateur players during Rocky Horror “shadow cast” performances — Curry’s mix of sleazy, slightly-demonic sexuality mixed with an upper crust demeanor immediately made him a legend, specifically in the LGBT community.

“The motto ‘Don’t dream it, be it’ is not necessarily limited to your sexuality,” he said in late 2025. “I think it applies to whatever you dream to be, and that’s a good thing. If it gives people permission to behave in a sexual way that they secretly want to, that’s a good thing, as long as it doesn’t hurt them.”

The success of Rocky Horror led to notable stage productions like Tom Stoppard’s Travesties, Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus, and comedic film roles like John Huston’s adaptation of Annie (1982) and the madcap all-star comedy free-for-all Clue (1985).

Curry was born the son of a British Naval chaplain in 1946. As per his website, his parents met in Malta, were married in Egypt, he was conceived in South Africa, born in England, and raised partially in Hong Kong. He studied drama in school and quickly found work after graduation in the London production of Hair. He didn’t last long in the show, but found work elsewhere on the stage and on television. His official audition for The Rocky Horror Show was singing the early rock ‘n’ roll classic “Tutti Frutti,” wholly appropriate for the retro-kitsch, boogie-woogie vibe of much of the score.

The Rocky Horror Show opened in 1973 in London, then travelled to Los Angeles for a legendary run at the Roxy Theatre in 1974. It moved to the Belasco Theatre on Broadway the following year. The story, which encourages audiences to not “dream it” but to “be it,” follows two sweethearts, Brad and Janet, whose car breaks down near a spooky castle commanded by the pansexual Dr. Frank-N-Furter.

The movie version, released in 1975, drew from the burgeoning glam-rock scene, and predated a great many styles found in the later punk movement. In a 2025 interview with NPR, Curry said he initially thought the doctor character would “ be in a white lab coat,” not fishnets. Curry’s costars included Bruce Bostwick, Susan Sarandon, and Meat Loaf… as well as everyone in the audience.

The movie was not an initial success, but midnight screenings in New York’s Waverly Theatre led to word-of-mouth. As the fandom increased, audiences began shouting back at the screen. Over time, this led to a semi-canonical talk back script of tongue-in-cheek zings. This soon led to props (hurled toast being the most famous) and, eventually, people in costume prancing around the auditorium along with the action on screen. Funnily enough, Curry lived just a block from the Waverly when the film took off, so got to see people dressed like his character walking home late at night. This phenomenon has continued for five decades.

Concerning the movie’s longevity, specifically with young people, Curry said “to them, it’s daring… It’s a kind of rite of passage now, I think. It’s a guaranteed weekend party to which you can go with or without a date and probably find one if you don’t have one. And it’s also, I think, a chance for people to try on a few roles for size, you know, figure out - help them maybe figure out their own sexuality. I mean, I think that’s probably taking it a little deeper than it needs to go, but I think it has had a useful purpose in that way.” He added, “I’ve certainly had some very interesting and moving mail from people who have said, you know, thanks for helping me figure out who I was.”

In the 1980s, Curry was seen on film in Annie and under 10 tons of demonic makeup in Ridley Scott’s high fantasy Legend opposite Tom Cruise and Mia Sara. Next came Clue, an adaptation of the detective board game with a stacked cast including Madeline Khan, Martin Mull, Michael McKean, Eileen Brennan, Lesley Ann Warren, Colleen Camp, Christopher Lloyd. The old school, screwball screenplay relies on Curry running around like a maniac barking dialogue at supersonic speeds for the film’s final scenes.

The late 1980s saw Curry’s first involvement with voiceover for animation. Paddington, Woody Woodpecker, Star Wars, Scooby-Doo, Barbie… Tim Curry has been involved with all of these brands at one time or another. One series, Peter Pan and the Pirates, led to a Daytime Emmy win.

In the early 2000s, he created the role of King Arthur in the Monty Python musical Spamalot on Broadway and on the West End. Curry also released three pop-rock albums from 1978 to 1981.

Curry suffered a stroke in 2012, limiting his mobility, which increased his working in voiceover. He did not give many interviews and worked to keep his private life private, though it is known that he was rather fond of gardening...

RIP: JAYE P. MORGAN

Talented actress, and game show panelist Jaye P. Morgan passed away on August 24, 2026 at age 94. In 1953, Morgan made a recording of "Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries" issued by Derby Records, which made it to #26 on the U.S. Billboard record chart. Soon after, she received an RCA Victor recording contract, and she had five hits in one year, including her biggest hit "That's All I Want from You", which reached #3 on the chart. Her other notable hits included "There's a Dream in My Heart" by Rolande Maxwell Young, "The Longest Walk", and "Pepper Hot Baby".

After spending six years with RCA Victor, Morgan joined MGM Records in 1959. From 1954 to 1955, Morgan was a vocalist on the ABC television series show Stop the Music. In November 1955, the British music magazine, NME, reported that Morgan was the top female vocalist in the U.S. Cash Box poll. Beginning January 11, 1954, she was a featured singer on the Robert Q. Lewis Show on CBS-TV. In 1956, she had her own show, The Jaye P. Morgan Show, and made guest appearances on a number of other variety shows. She was a charter member of the Robert Q. Lewis "gang" on Lewis's weekday program on CBS, and was featured on a special episode of The Jackie Gleason Show in which Lewis's entire company substituted for the vacationing Gleason. In 1958, Morgan appeared on ABC's Pat Boone Chevy Showroom. On October 6, 1960, she guest starred on NBC's The Ford Show, Starring Tennessee Ernie Ford. In 1961, Morgan was cast as Sally Dwight in the episode "Money and the Minister" of the CBS anthology series, General Electric Theater, hosted by Ronald Reagan. In 1962, she played Patty Maxwell in "Patti's Tune" of the CBS military sitcom-drama Hennesey, starring Jackie Cooper. That same year, she was cast as Kitty Flanders in "That's Showbiz" on NBC's The Joey Bishop Show. In 1964, she portrayed the character Ruth Evans in the episode "Sunday Father" of the NBC medical drama The Eleventh Hour.

Although Morgan continued to spend considerable time in the 1960s and 1970s performing in nightclubs, she also continued to make additional appearances on television as well as in films. In 1964, she guest-starred on CBS's My Three Sons as Susan Duvall in the episode "Second Chorus” and in 1966 “A Falling Star", playing the fading singer Claudia Farrell. Later, in 1973, Morgan played herself in the episode "The Songwriter" of the sitcom The Odd Couple. That year she also appeared as Magda Valentine in the film The All-American Boy. She performed the theme song, "Coming into My Own," of the short-lived NBC situation comedy Fay, starring Lee Grant, which aired from 1975 to 1976. In 1978, Morgan guest-starred on The Muppet Show and sang "That Old Black Magic" as a duet with Dr. Teeth. 

Morgan made numerous appearances on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson during this period, and in the 1980s and into the early 1990s she performed again on the big screen, working in supportive roles in films such as Loose Shoes (1980), Night Patrol (1984), and Home Alone 2: Lost in New York (1992). Morgan largely retired in 1992...

RIP: DOLLY PARTON

Dolly Parton, who rose from a loving if impoverished upbringing in the mountains of East Tennessee to become the “Queen of Country” music, a Hollywood star and a beloved American icon, has died, her family announced on Tuesday. Parton was 80.

Parton’s nephew, Brian Seaver, announced the news in a video posted on her Instagram. He did not provide details about her death.

“My name is Brian Seaver, son of Cassie Parton, and I’m representing the Parton and Owens family today announcing the passing of my aunt, Dolly Rebecca Parton Dean, Sister, Sis and Granny to one generation and Gigi to the next,” Seaver said in a video.

“This video announcement is something Dolly asked of me years ago, before I fully absorbed it as a future reality. As her head of security for more than two decades, a role my father Larry held before me, I have imagined the heaviness of this moment but haven’t truly felt it til now,” he added.

Seaver added that Dolly “lived in the light and is in the arms of Jesus, surely met by Carl, her parents, and countless others.”

Her death comes after Parton suddenly announced in May 2026 that she was canceling a Las Vegas show and said she'd been undergoing treatment for kidney stones for several years.

"Lord, they dig more stones out of me a year than the rock quarry in Rockwood, Tennessee," Parton said in a statement. "But seriously, my immune system and my digestive system got all out of whack over the past couple three years, and they’re working real hard on rebuilding and strengthening those and hopefully I’ll be up to snuff again soon."

During her more than 60-year career, Parton sold more than 100 million records and won 11 Grammy Awards, making her one of the bestselling musical performers of all time.

Parton also became a star on the silver screen, gaining a whole new audience and critical acclaim when she brought her Southern charm to movies like “9 to 5” (she wrote and sang the theme song), “Steel Magnolias” and "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas."

Bedecked in blonde bouffant hairdos and never without her makeup, Parton also became one of the nation’s best known brands who parried questions about her hourglass figure and augmented breasts with her signature self-deprecating wit.

“It costs a lot of money to look this cheap,” Parton once said.Dolly Parton in 1970. Michael Ochs

Parton was also a shrewd businesswoman who amassed an estimated $650 million fortune and maintained creative control in the cutthroat and male-dominated music industry. She presided over an entertainment empire that included the Dollywood theme park. And she was a devoted philanthropist who launched the Dollywood Foundation to provide poverty relief and fund educational programs in her native East Tennessee.

Through it all, Parton leaned on the love of her life, her husband Carl Thomas Dean, who died in March 2025 at age 82 and who, from the moment they married in 1966, happily ceded the spotlight to his world-famous wife.

“Words can’t do justice to the love we shared for over 60 years,” Parton said in July 2025.Dolly Parton in a rare photo with her husband, Carl Thomas Dean. dollyparton.com

Born January 19, 1946, in a one-room cabin on the banks of the Little Pigeon River near the town of Sevierville, Parton was the fourth of 12 children. Her father, Robert Lee Parton, could not read or write and often supplemented the family's meager income from their farm by working constructions jobs. Her mother, Avie Lee Parton, ran the household and was fond of singing traditional Appalachian ballads. The future superstar said it was her mother who instilled in her a love for music.

And it was at church that Parton first started performing. By age 13, Parton was singing on local radio and television shows and made her debut at the Grand Ole Opry, where she met Johnny Cash.

“Dolly Parton has one of the most distinctive voices in American pop music,” Katherine Dacey, a professor at the Berklee College of Music, told NBC News before Parton’s death was announced. “Her high soprano voice gets its distinctive character from her fast vibrato and vocal twang.”Dolly Parton performs in 1976.

The day after she graduated from Sevier County High School in 1964, Parton headed to Nashville where she first made her mark writing songs for other performers, some of them with her uncle Bill Owens.

In songs like “Tennessee Homesick Blues” and “Coat of Many Colors,” Parton drew inspiration from her hardscrabble childhood.

Three years after leaving school, Parton released her first record, “Hello, I'm Dolly” and caught the attention of country star Porter Wagoner and became a regular on his shows.

Then, in 1974, Parton broke out on her own when she topped the country charts for the first time with a song she wrote and performed called “Jolene.” She later revealed it was inspired by a bank teller who flirted with her husband when they were newlyweds.

Her next four singles were also country chart toppers and one of them, “I Will Always Love You,” later became a huge hit for Whitney Houston in 1992.

In 1977, Parton released her first self-produced album “New Harvest...First Harvest” and became the first female country artist to have an album sell over a million copies.

Parton also won her first Grammy with a single from that record called “Here You Come Again.”Parton performing in 1995. Hollywood beckoned and 1980 Parton made her film debut in “9 to 5” which earned her two Golden Globe nominations for her acting and Oscar nomination for the title song, which many consider a feminist anthem.

Parton, who earned a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1984, made several more movies and performed around the world, but she always returned to the music that first made her famous — and to the hollers of East Tennessee where she was born and where she and her husband made their home.

“Never ignore your roots — your home or your hair,” she once said.

In 1986, Parton opened the Dollywood theme park in the Great Smokey Mountains near her hometown. The 165 acres includes rollercoasters, a bald eagle sanctuary and music and crafts that pay tribute to the region's Appalachian heritage.Parton at Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, Tenn., in 1988.Ron Davis / Getty 

Parton and her husband never had children of their own. And in public statements, Parton said she “believed that God didn’t mean for me to have kids.” Dolly is the godmother of Miley Cyrus.

Parton's philanthropic legacy also included the creation of the Imagination Library, which mails free books to children around the world. In the three decades since it was founded, the organization has mailed more than 300 million books to kids around the U.S., as well as Canada, Australia, the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland...

JACK BENNY: THE GREATEST COMEDIAN OF ALL TIME

Jack Benny, in my opinion was one of the greatest comedians of all-time. Recognized as a leading American entertainer of the 20th century, Benny portrayed his character as a miser, playing his violin badly. In character, he would be 39 years of age, regardless of his actual age. Benny was known for comic timing, and the ability to create laughter with a pregnant pause or a single expression, such as his signature exasperated "Well!" 

His radio and television programs, popular from the 1930s to the 1970s, were a major influence on the sitcom genre. Benny had been a minor vaudeville performer before becoming a national figure with The Jack Benny Program, a weekly radio show that ran from 1932 to 1948 on NBC and from 1949 to 1955 on CBS. It was among the most highly rated programs during its run. Benny's long radio career began on April 6, 1932, when the NBC Commercial Program Department auditioned him for the N.W. Ayer agency and their client, Canada Dry, after which Bertha Brainard, head of the division, said, "We think Mr. Benny is excellent for radio and, while the audition was unassisted as far as orchestra was concerned, we believe he would make a great bet for an air program." Benny's comic persona changed over the course of his career. At some point he developed a miserly persona. This stage character was everything that Jack Benny was not: cheap, petty, vain, and self-congratulatory. His comic rendering of these traits was the linchpin to the success of his show. Benny set himself up as comedic foil, allowing his supporting characters to draw laughs at the expense of his own flaws. With his humanism and vulnerability in an era where few male characters were allowed such character traits, Benny made what could have been an unlikable everyman character. Benny said: "I don't care who gets the laughs on my show, as long as the show is funny."

In 1937, Benny began his famous radio feud with rival Fred Allen. Allen kicked the feud off on his own show, after child violinist Stewart Canin gave a performance credible enough that Allen wisecracked about "a certain alleged violinist" who should by comparison be ashamed of himself. Benny, who either listened to the Allen show or was told about the crack, answered in kind on his own show. And the two comedians were off and running. The television version of The Jack Benny Program ran from October 28, 1950, to 1965. Initially scheduled as a series of five "specials" during the 1950–1951 season, the show appeared every six weeks for the 1951–1952 season, every four weeks for the 1952–1953 season and every three weeks in 1953–1954. For the 1953–1954 season, half the episodes were live and half were filmed during the summer, to allow Benny to continue doing his radio show. From the fall of 1954 to 1960, it appeared every other week, and from 1960 to 1965 it was seen weekly.

Benny also acted in movies, including the Academy Award-winning The Hollywood Revue of 1929, Broadway Melody of 1936 (as a benign nemesis for Eleanor Powell and Robert Taylor), George Washington Slept Here (1942), and notably, Charley's Aunt (1941) and To Be or Not to Be (1942). After his broadcasting career ended, Benny performed live as a stand up comedian and returned to films in 1963 with a cameo appearance in It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. Benny made one of his final television appearances in the fall of 1972 on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson when Carson celebrated his 10th anniversary.

In October 1974, Benny canceled a performance in Dallas after suffering a dizzy spell, coupled with numbness in his arms. Despite a battery of tests, Benny's ailment could not be determined. When he complained of stomach pains in early December, a first test showed nothing, but a subsequent one showed he had inoperable pancreatic cancer. Choosing to spend his final days at home, he was visited by close friends including George Burns, Bob Hope, Frank Sinatra, Johnny Carson and John Rowles. He died on December 26, 1974 at age 80, and is interred at Hillside Memorial Park in Culver City, CA...

ERIC FLEMING AND HIS TRAGIC ENDING

Does anyone remember that tragic story of actor Eric Fleming? He drowned in Peru while on location filming for High Jungle on September 28, 1966. His co-star, Nico Manardos, who was in the canoe with him, managed to swim to safety. He gives a chilling, first hand account of what happened:

 
"Wednesday, Sept. 28
For the first time in the weeks of adjusting to the most primitive of conditions, I awoke with an irritable feeling. I couldn't pinpoint it. I merely felt rotten and everything around me was rotten. Several times that morning I flew off the handle – shouting at the director, yelling foul words to the crew. Each time I couldn't believe I had done it and quickly apologized. The camera was set up downstream on the left bank of the river. All preparations had been made. I was to paddle the canoa from the rear and Eric would be up front. It isn't every day that a movie is made in Tingo Maria and along the river bank were many curious Indians.

 

I used to drive race cars, and know how important it is to know your course. I walked along the river bank again, peering into the boiling cauldron of waters. I didn't like it now one bit. Suddenly, I had an idea. Perhaps, a rope could be attached to the canoa and someone out of camera range could guide the boat from shore. I was fiddling around with a long piece of rope trying to secure it to the canoa when Eric approached.

 
"That'll never work" he laughed. It was nearly 12:30, and a large mass of rain clouds in the distance was moving toward Tingo Maria. If it proved to be a big storm, it could mean a delay of two or three more days before we could get the scene. We were all cognizant of this, especially Eric, and we had no desire to sit around waiting for the rain to stop. All of us were eager to depart the next day by plane for Lima where we would be able to take our first hot shower in weeks, and rest a few days before completing the film.

 
With a concerned, serious expression on his face, Eric took another glance at the approaching ugly blackened sky. He slowly shook his head, and then smiling reassuringly said to me, "Nico, now or never!". Those were Eric's last words. We silently took our positions in the canoa, and were pushed into the main stream by several Indians.

 
For the first 50 yards or so, I felt that I had acted pretty ridiculously in thinking something could go wrong. We were travelling at a swift pace, but in catching the main current of the river it was serving as the navigator around the rocks. There was little paddling to do. The current was doing the work. More or less, all we had to do was hang on.

 
With the thunder of a thousand cannons, the momentary security I had felt disappeared. The canoa bolted into a cauldron of rapids at the bend in the river, so furious that the craft was no more effective than a toothpick. We started taking on a lot of water as we shot up and then dipped into the rapids. Water was spilling in from the bow with tremendous force. Both Eric and myself were so busy trying to keep the canoa upright with our paddles that there was no time to bail. Suddenly, I noticed Eric start to stand up. I knew immediately that he was planning to jump. When we had talked about the dangers that one day, I tried to impress on him it would be wiser to stay with the canoa. Eric, though, was used to riding surfboards, and for a surfboarder the reaction in time of trouble is to leap away so as not to be hit on the head by the board.

"Don't jump!" I yelled frantically. "Please, please don't jump!" Whether he heard or not I'll never know. However, I sort of doubt it because the roar of the water hitting the rocks in the rapids was deafening. Without turning around he went over the side into an angry whirlpool and disappeared. Probably Eric figured that if he jumped, I would be forced to follow and we would both be saved. I didn't have time for any choice. With Eric's weight gone from the front, the canoa catapulted upward, sending a wall of water at me. In a split-second the canoa was inundated and I was struggling underwater. My frantic effort to reach the surface was fruitless, I was a human anchor. My boots, the pistol tied to my side, those damn sleeves of the shirt, bulging heavily with water, were dragging me to the bottom. I bit my lips desperately, but the pressure of the current was unbearable and forced water into my mouth.

Weakness overcame my body. Every bone had succumbed to fatigue. I was dying. My eyes seemed to automatically close and I found myself drifting further away from reality. I kept thinking only that I was dying. No other thoughts entered my mind. I found myself accepting death. I actually had given up any hopes of surviving when suddenly my eyes were open again staring into the yellowish water at some blurred object in front of me. it was the half-submerged end of the canoa. God or some power had put it there for I was able to reach out with the strength I thought I had lost and grasp it. With a second surge of miraculous effort I pulled myself up on it, forcing it deeper in the water and creating a springboard to pop me above the surface. I managed a life-saving gulp of air before I went under again. This time I knew I would live. I clung to the swamped boat as the current swept us beyond the curve, and into calmer water where the boat drifted into a whirlpool. As it started to spin I kicked off with my feet to the shore.

 

An Indian boy, 10 or 12 years old, was standing knee deep in the water. I grabbed out and used his shoulder as a support to regain my footing. My knees trembled violently. Quickly I turned my head back to the river to look for Eric. I spotted his body bobbling like a cork in one of the whirlpools – one upstream from me that I had successfully passed while I was being carried underwater while clinging to the canoa. One look at the way his head was face down in the water chilled me with terror. Eric was probably dead, I thought with a nauseous sensation. The best of swimmers would be helpless in such strong currents. Eric had given up – like I had. I started to swim out in a frantic attempt to grab him as the main current was bringing him downstream. It was useless. I was still too waterlogged and weighted down. The pistol I managed to rip off my belt. There was no time to remove my boots or strip off my shirt. Two Indians, meantime, had retrieved the canoa and had it floating again near me. I pushed both of them into it and desperately pointed to Eric's floating body. They were able to bring the canoa alongside of Eric. The Indian in front grabbed him by the hair. Quickly they all disappeared momentarily in another series of rapids.

 
"Thanks God," I said aloud. "Eric might have a chance if they get him to shore in time to administer artificial respiration." Then I doubled over in severe pain. I had swallowed a great quantity of that dirty water. I vomited the water for I don't know how long. By the time I was able to stand straight again I saw the canoa in trouble. The native had a firm grasp on Eric's head and the one paddling from the rear was feverishly trying to turn the boat into shore. Within seconds all was lost – Eric's last chance gone – as the canoa slammed against a large boulder, toppling the Indians in the water. To save his own life, the one Indian let go of Eric's hair. Both Indians made it to the safety of the shore. Eric's body disappeared in the froth around the rock.

 
It was shockingly horrifying, especially when I learned Lynne had witnessed the tragedy from the camera's location. She was hysterical with grief. The other members of the company and myself searched until dark for the body, although dreading what we might find.

 
That night at the Garn Hotel everyone was too shocked to say anything or do anything except retire to the lonely misery of their room to face agonizing hours of torment, knowing that a friend was dead somewhere out there in the merciless wilderness."

Nico Minardos died in 2011 - never forgetting that horrific event...

THE BOX OFFICE STARS: 1960

1960 was the dawn of another decade, and the 1960s cinema was changing just as the whole world was. Here are the top ten movie stars of 1960...

1. DORIS DAY

2. ROCK HUDSON

3. CARY GRANT

                   

4. Elizabeth Taylor 

5. Debbie Reynolds

6. Tony Curtis

7. Sandra Dee

8. Frank Sinatra

9. Jack Lemmon

10. John Wayne.

RECENTLY VIEWED: THE END OF OAK STREET

Sometimes it seems like the same movie is made over and over again. I had the pleasure to see The End Of Oak Street in the movie theater, and I was glad I did. The movie is so much different than anything I have seen before. It is definitely no Jurassic Park! The End of Oak Street is a 2026 American science fiction survival film written, co-produced, and directed by David Robert Mitchell. It stars Anne Hathaway, Ewan McGregor, Maisy Stella and Christian Convery as a family whose suburban neighborhood has been transported from 1982 into the age of dinosaurs. The End of Oak Street premiered at the Steven J. Ross Theater on August 9, 2026, and was theatrically released in the United States on August 14 by Warner Bros. Pictures. The film received positive reviews from critics and has grossed $47 million worldwide against a production budget of $80–92 million.

I'd love to give the plot away, but I don't want to spoil it for viewers. The movie takes place in 1982 so it is a period piece set against the backdrop of carnage at the hands of dinosaurs. The movie is darker than I thought. I literally jumped at least five spots. I haven't jumped at a scene in Jurassic Park/World in years!

In March 2023, an untitled film directed, written and co-produced by David Robert Mitchell was in development at Warner Bros. Pictures, with J. J. Abrams and Hannah Minghella producing for Bad Robot and with Matt Jackson and Tommy Harper producing for Jackson Pictures.Anne Hathaway was cast in the lead role in 2023. By February 2024, it was revealed that Ewan McGregor had been cast,with Maisy Stella and Christian Convery joining in March. In late March, the title was revealed to be Flowervale Street. In April, Jordan Alexa Davis, P. J. Byrne and Chris Coy joined the cast.

The cast is great Anne Hathaway and Ewen McGregor are a believable married couple. What is interesting is the movie is not just about dinosaurs. There is a family dinamics there that is explored. In addition to dinosaurs there are other issues like divorce, bullying, and drifting apart that are wonderfully explored. The movie's storytelling is just about perfect, but there is a minor gripe I have about the ending that I will not talk about here. Just do yourself a favor, and see this action packed thriller of a movie. You will not be disappointed...

MY RATING: 9 OUT OF 10

W.C. FIELDS AND MY LITTLE CHICKADEE

W.C. Fields walked off the set of "My Little Chickadee" (1940) over what director Edward F. Cline felt was a minor disagreement, but when it was clear after two weeks that he was not coming back to finish the film, nearly one-third was shot using a double. The double used is unknown. It could have been John Sinclair, who had doubled for him in "Poppy" (1936), or David Sharpe, who was his stunt double in later films. The double wore a plastic mask and most of the shots were long shots.

Dick Foran, who was being paid by the week, would go to Mae West and tell her that Fields was rewriting his lines to give himself more screen time and to try to steal the film from her. Then he would go to Fields and tell him the same thing about West. In this manner he was able to extend his employment from a few weeks to several months, as both Fields and West - who didn't like each other - would hold up production while they would rewrite their scenes.

On lunch break one day, Fields went to his dressing room to start on a new bottle of whiskey he had saved for that purpose. Apparently someone beat him to it, as the bottle had been opened and about half of it had been drunk. Fields immediately ran outside and roared to the crew, "Who took the cork out of my lunch?"
Groucho Marx, on Fields: "He had a ladder leading up to his attic. Without exaggeration, there was $50,000 worth of liquor up there. Crated up like a wharf. I'm standing there and Fields is standing there, and nobody says anything. The silence is oppressive. Finally, he speaks: 'This will carry me for twenty-five years.'"

RECENTLY VIEWED: THE LAST HOUSE

Some movies entertain you for two hours and then disappear from your thoughts. Others linger long after the credits roll. Netflix's The Last House is one of those films. At first glance, it looks like a science fiction thriller about a family trapped inside their own home. But underneath the mystery and suspense is a story about fear, resilience, and what happens when a family is forced to face itself. 

The premise is simple yet terrifying. A family wakes up to discover they can no longer leave their house. Doors won't open. Windows offer no escape. Resources begin to dwindle, and the outside world becomes an unknown threat. What starts as confusion slowly transforms into a desperate fight for survival.

As I watched, I found myself asking a question that the movie quietly places before its audience: What would I do?

We all like to believe we'd stay calm in a crisis. We'd make smart decisions, protect our loved ones, and find a way through. But The Last House challenges that confidence. The longer the family remains trapped, the more their fears, frustrations, and hidden emotions rise to the surface. Survival becomes about more than food and water. It becomes about trust.

Greta Lee and Wagner Moura deliver performances that ground the film's unusual premise in human emotion. Their characters are not superheroes. They are parents trying to hold their family together while navigating uncertainty and fear. Their struggles feel authentic because they mirror challenges many families face in everyday life, just under far less extreme circumstances. 

What struck me most was the symbolism of the house itself.

A house is supposed to be a place of safety. It shelters us from storms, danger, and the outside world. In The Last House, that symbol is turned upside down. The very place designed to provide comfort becomes a prison. The walls that once protected now confine. It serves as a reminder that security is often more fragile than we realize. 

The film also explores how people respond differently under pressure. Some become leaders. Others withdraw. Some cling to hope, while others surrender to despair. Watching the family's emotional journey felt just as compelling as the mystery surrounding their confinement.

While viewers may debate the film's twists and ending, the central message remains powerful: when everything familiar is taken away, our greatest resource is each other. 

The Last House may be marketed as a sci-fi thriller, but at its heart, it is a story about human connection. The suspense keeps you watching, but the emotional questions stay with you afterward. And perhaps that's why the movie resonates. It reminds us that sometimes the greatest challenge is not escaping the house. It's learning how to survive together inside it. I enjoyed the movie as a whole, but the ending was kind of abrupt and left me wanting more questions answered. For a Netflix movie though this was pretty watchable though...

MY RATING: 6.5 out of 10

TOMMY BOND: THE LITTLE RASCALS BULLY

A native of Dallas, Texas, Tommy Bond was best known for his work as a child actor for two different nonconsecutive periods on Our Gang (Little Rascals) comedies (first as "Tommy" and later as "Butch"). Also, he is noted for being the first actor to appear onscreen as "Superman's pal" Jimmy Olsen, having portrayed the character in the film serials Superman (1948) and Atom Man vs. Superman (1950). Bond was hired at Hal Roach Studios for the Our Gang series in the summer of 1931 to begin work that upcoming fall, at around the same time as George "Spanky" McFarland was hired. 

Bond worked in Our Gang for two years, alternately appearing as a supporting character and a background actor. His speaking roles increased by 1934, including his most substantive role to this point as the gang's band conductor in Mike Fright. In late 1934, Bond left the series and returned to public school, still earning periodic bit parts in Hollywood productions. After leaving the gang for the first time, Bond also worked as a voice actor, most notably in several of Tex Avery's Merrie Melodies cartoons for Warner Bros. His best known voice role was as the speaking voice of "Owl Jolson" in Tex Avery's 1936 Merrie Melodies cartoon, I Love to Singa. Bond returned to Our Gang on a recurring basis late in 1936, when Roach hired him to play "Butch", the neighborhood bully. After serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II, Bond returned to acting, and appeared in two Gas House Kids features alongside former on-screen rival Carl Switzer. 

In 1951, Bond graduated from college and quit acting, but remained in show business in the areas of television directing and production, and worked with individuals such as Norman Lear, George Schlatter, and many others. He worked at Metromedia owned Channel 11, KTTV. He then went to work for Capital Cities Communications' CBS affiliate Channel 30 KFSN (now owned and operated and affiliated with ABC) in Fresno from the early 1970s to 1991. Tommy also worked as a prop manager on Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In. Bond died on September 24, 2005 at age 79 due to complications from heart disease in Los Angeles, California. He is buried at Riverside National Cemetery in Riverside, California...

GARY CROSBY: THE EARLY YEARS

Gary Crosby was born on June 27, 1933, in Los Angeles, the first son of Bing Crosby and Dixie Lee. From the very beginning, music was woven into his life. While other kids grew up with bedtime stories, Gary grew up with jam sessions—his father’s voice drifting through the house, rehearsals echoing from the living room, and visits from stars who defined an era.

By the time Gary was a teenager, it was clear he had inherited more than just a famous name. He had a voice, a sense of timing, and a natural ease in front of the microphone. Along with his brothers—Phillip, Lindsay, and Dennis—he formed The Crosby Boys, a harmony-driven group that performed on radio and in nightclubs during the late 1940s and early ’50s. Their appearances were a hit with audiences who loved seeing Bing’s sons carry on the family tradition.

Gary’s first big break came through duets with his father. In 1950, they recorded “Sam’s Song” and “Play a Simple Melody,” two playful tracks that captured the charm of father and son trading lines. The records were a sensation, becoming the first double-sided gold record in music history. Suddenly, Gary wasn’t just Bing’s son—he was a star in his own right.

Radio soon beckoned. Gary appeared on programs like The Bing Crosby Show, where his easy banter and smooth vocals made him a natural fit. In the summer of 1955, he even hosted his own program, The Gary Crosby Show, on CBS—a bold step that showed he was ready to carve out his own space in entertainment.

Film followed quickly. Gary made his screen debut as himself in Star Spangled Rhythm (1942) when he was just a boy, sharing the screen with Hollywood’s biggest names. Later, he appeared in musicals and comedies throughout the 1950s, bringing his laid-back charm to the big screen. These early roles weren’t just cameos—they were proof that Gary had the charisma to hold his own in front of the camera.

Those early years were a whirlwind of radio microphones, studio lights, and family harmonies. Gary Crosby grew up in the glow of fame, but he didn’t just stand in his father’s shadow—he stepped forward, sang his own songs, and began writing the first chapters of a career that would span music, film, and television...