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...