The Hollywood Book of Death: The Bizarre, Often Sordid, Passings of More than 125 American Movie and TV Idols

by Parish, James Robert

  On Saturday morning (August 9, 1969), when the maid arrived at the house on Cielo Drive, she found a terrifying sight. In the blood-drenched living room were the butchered bodies of Sharon Tate and Jay Sebring, with a white cord trailing from Sharon’s neck to a ceiling beam and extending to Sebring’s neck. (He had also been shot.) The word “Pig” was written in blood on the front door. On the lawn were the mutilated bodies of a couple who had been staying with Sharon while Polanski was away: Abigail Folger (the 25-year-old daughter of the chairman of the Folger Coffee Company) and Wojtek Frykowski (Roman’s 32-year-old childhood pal). Eighteen-year-old Steven Parent was found dead in his car near the entrance gate. He was a friend of 19-year-old William Garretson, the estate’s caretaker, who had been in the out-of-the-way guesthouse during the entire massacre. Because Garretson had his stereo on, blasting music into his headphones, he had not heard the victims’ screams.

  Over two hundred people attended Sharon’s funeral at Holy Cross Memorial Park in Culver City. A tearful Polanski had returned for the service. Father O’Reilly eulogized, “Goodbye Sharon, and may the angels welcome you to heaven, and the martyrs guide your way.” The casket, containing the bodies of Sharon and her unborn son, Paul Richard, was buried on the cemetery grounds. The white marble marker reads, “Beloved wife of Roman . . . Sharon Tate Polanski . . . Paul Richard Polanski . . . Their Baby.” A few days later, Sharon’s movies were reissued nationwide.

  At first it was suspected that the slayings were drug-related, since Sebring and some of the other victims had been part of that culture. But on December 1, 1969, the police issued homicide complaints against Charles Manson, Susan Atkins, Linda Kasabian, Patricia Krenwinkel, and Tex Watson, a group who would soon become known as the Manson Family. (The Family had killed several other people before and after the Tate massacre, but this time, they had left traceable clues of their having been at the scene of the crime.)

  Although the full motives may never be known, it seems that the psychotic Manson had sent his followers to the secluded hilltop mansion on Cielo Drive for revenge. One theory holds that Manson had written several songs which he brought to record producer Terry Melcher, who had rejected them as insufficiently interesting. Believing Melcher was still living at the house, Manson had returned there asking for a second “audition” and been turned away by Sharon and Jay. The rejection led the twisted Manson to order the mass killing. Another theory insists that Manson became incensed when he discovered that the patio of Tate’s home was made of lumber from protected redwood trees, and that Manson ordered the killings because he was an extreme “nature advocate.”

  At their trials in 1971, Manson and the other members of his Family were given death sentences. Before they could be executed, however, California did away with the death penalty (in most instances) and the Family was, instead, sentenced to life imprisonment. Manson is at San Quentin Prison, and his underlings are at other institutions around the state. Sharon’s mother became involved with POMC (Parents of Murdered Children). Whenever any of the infamous murderers come up for parole, she gathers new sets of signatures to petition California officials to veto the idea and keep them in jail. When Polanski finally made Tess (1979) with Nastassja Kinski in the role once intended for Tate, the movie was dedicated: “To Sharon.”

  As for the notorious site of the Manson murders, it was razed in 1994 so that a new mansion could be built.

  Natural Causes

  Hollywood Forever in Hollywood, California © 2001 by Albert L,. Ortega

  Bud Abbott

  [William Alexander Abbott]

  October 2, 1895–April 24, 1974

  During the 1940s, the slapstick comedy duo Abbott and Costello were the public’s favorites, helping audiences to forget the turmoil of World War II. The uproarious screen team made a great deal of money because they were in such high demand. However, neither actor was wise enough to invest his earnings well, and both men had a costly fondness for gambling. It led to tremendous heartache, especially for Bud Abbott, who survived his chubby partner by 15 painful years.

  William Alexander “Bud” Abbott was born on October 2, 1895, in Asbury Park, New Jersey, one of four children. His father, Harry, was a publicity advance man for the Barnum and Bailey Circus, and his mother, Rae, was a bareback rider with the famous tent show. After a scattered school education—he dropped out of the system altogether at age 10—Bud began his show-business career as a Coney Island amusement park shill. (He also had stints as a lion tamer and race-car driver.) Later, he became an assistant box-office treasurer for the Casino Burlesque House in Brooklyn. Bud loved the burlesque house and soon became a producer of shows, but even more quickly concluded that he could do the burlesque comedy routines as well as any performer he had seen onstage. Therefore, he began performing in front of the footlights. Bud chose to be the “straight man” in his act because that paid more than being the clowning partner.

  The tall, thin Abbott and the short, pudgy Costello had been performing separately in burlesque when they first teamed up on the Minsky burlesque show circuit in 1936. The duo became popular with personal appearances at Atlantic City’s Steel Pier, on Kate Smith’s radio program, and on Broadway in Streets of Paris (1939). They made their feature-film debut with Universal Pictures in One Night in the Tropics (1940). By the time of their slapstick comedy Buck Privates (1941), Abbott and Costello were big movie stars. Throughout the 1940s, whether in movies, on radio, or in personal appearances, they seemingly could do no wrong at all with entertainment-hungry audiences.

  Bud Abbott, Cathy Downs, and Lou Costello in The Noose Hangs High (1948).

  Courtesy of JC Archives

  The 1950s were another matter. By then, the public had fastened onto the newer and younger duo of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis as their new comedic favorites. As a pair, Bud and Lou made their last feature for Universal Pictures, called Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy, in 1955. By then, their long run on TV’s variety program The Colgate Comedy Hour was over and their own half-hour comedy series was already two years in the past.

  As their fame diminished, their personal problems increased. Costello’s poor health—a result of rheumatic fever, hypertension, and being overweight—deteriorated further. Abbott and Costello reunited for one last movie, Dance with Me, Henry (1956), a sloppy comedy done cheaply at United Artists. With their careers in the doldrums, what had once been a friendly rivalry between the two comedians—friendly as long as the well-meaning Abbott gave in to the egotistical Costello’s artistic and financial demands—developed nasty overtones. The longtime pair broke apart. Lou, who had long ago come to think of himself as the major talent of the two, made solo TV guest appearances and starred in The 30-Foot Bride of Candy Rock. Before that picture could be released, however, Costello died of a heart attack on March 3, 1959.

  Lou had hardly been buried when the Internal Revenue Service intensified its pursuit of the grief-stricken Abbott. The IRS demanded over $750,000 in back taxes. To appease the government, Bud was forced to sell (at a loss) his estate in Encino, California, as well as his two-hundred-acre ranch in the area. His wife, Betty, sold her jewelry and furs, and the actor relinquished his remaining share of profits from the old, lucrative Universal movies. The frantic Abbott informed the press, “I’ll have to start all over.” He begged his fans to donate 50 cents per person to help out, but the appeal had little result. The discouraged Bud teamed with Candy Candido, a show-business veteran whom he hoped could be a successful replacement for Costello. After a few test engagements, Abbott had a recurrence of epilepsy. The attacks—when combined with his other ailments and his heavy drinking—left him too weak to pursue the attempted comeback.

  In 1964, Abbott suffered a series of strokes. In 1967 he was well enough to supply one of the voices for a two-hundred-volume series of five-minute Abbott and Costello TV cartoons, but it was the finale to his lengthy show-business career. In 1972 he broke his hip and was confined to a wheelchair for his remaining days. During
his last year, Bud stopped drinking altogether, but then he developed cancer. Early on the morning of April 24, 1974, he died at the age of 78. After a small funeral, his remains were cremated and the ashes scattered at sea. Betty, his wife of 56 years, was forced to sell their modest home to pay additional tax bills; even so, the debts continued to plague her until her own death in 1981.

  To his final days, a bereft Abbott puzzled about his temperamental partner, “I never understood Lou. I never knew why he broke us up so suddenly.”

  Jim Backus

  [James Gilmore Backus]

  February 25, 1913–July 3, 1989

  Veteran actor Jim Backus chased after show-business fame for many decades. It finally happened for him in the 1960s—when he played the cartoon-character voice of the myopic old grouch Mr. Magoo. He could not shake the subsequent typecasting: “Every time I start to be a serious actor,” he sighed, “I lose out because someone—usually a producer—says I’m Magoo.”

  James Gilmore Backus was born into a well-to-do family in a posh suburb of Cleveland, Ohio. His father owned a very successful machinery company, but Jim had show-business ambitions and left for Manhattan, where he attended the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. There, in 1941, he met his wife-to-be, Henny, an artist and actress. He did stage and radio work before going to Hollywood for a brief role in The Pied Piper (1942). After serving in World War II, he returned to Los Angeles, doing more radio work and beginning an active screen career in 1949. Backus once described his movie characters as a procession of “best friends—the guy who always drove the bride to the church, but never married her.” One of his favorite roles was that of James Dean’s father in Rebel Without a Cause (1955). In the late 1950s, he recorded a novelty album, Dirty Old Man; one cut, “Delicious,” made it to the Top 40 music charts.

  It was on TV, however, that Backus became best known. He played Joan Davis’s long-suffering husband in the situation comedy I Married Joan (1952–55). He first portrayed the nearsighted, raspy-voiced Magoo in the animated TV special Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol (1962). This led to the animated TV series Famous Adventures of Mr. Magoo (1964–65), and to further specials, as well as to theatrical and TV shorts. Adding to his laurels, Jim was cast as the pompous Thurston Howell III on Gilligan’s Island (1964–67), and was seen as the overbearing J. C. Dithers in the new Blondie TV series (1968–69).

  In the 1980s, Backus appeared in several TV movies and made his last acting appearance in 1983 on Trapper John, M.D. By the mid-1980s, Backus was suffering from Parkinson’s disease. Already the author of his life story, Only When I Laugh (1965), he and Henny coauthored Backus Strikes Back (1984) and Forgive Us Our Digressions (1988), hilarious yet touching reminiscences dealing lightly with his debilitating disease.

  On June 13, 1989, Backus was admitted to St. John’s Medical Center in Santa Monica, California, suffering from double pneumonia complicated by his progressive Parkinson’s disease. He died on July 3, 1989, survived by his wife. He was buried at West-wood (Village) Memorial Park.

  Ironically, it is not for his career-limiting curmudgeon Mr. Magoo that Jim Backus is best remembered today. Rather, it is his acting stint on Gilligan’s Island that has gained him immortality with TV viewers.

  Lucille Ball

  August 6, 1911–April 26, 1989

  Popular Hollywood luminaries have risen and fallen over the years. Few of them, however, have ever made as much impact as Lucille Ball, America’s favorite zany redhead. Yet, it was not her two decades of nonstop filmmaking that accomplished that for Ball. Instead, it was I Love Lucy, the 1950s TV sitcom she engineered to bring herself and her husband, Desi Arnaz, closer together. On the small screen, the larger-than-life Lucy proved to be a delightfully resourceful comedian. Week after week, she demonstrated that she was a wonderful mixture of the qualities that produced greatness in such other funsters as Milton Berle, Charlie Chaplin, Jackie Gleason, and Harold Lloyd.

  The future superstar was born Lucille Désirée Ball in Celoron, just outside of Jamestown, New York, in 1911. Her father died when Lucy was four; Mrs. Ball remarried but her new marriage ended in divorce. She supported her two children (Lucy and her younger brother Frederick) by working in a local dress shop. Mrs. Ball wanted Lucy to play the piano, but her daughter was already drawn to show business.

  In 1926, Lucy moved to New York City to study drama. She failed in her studies, but refused to abandon her dreams. The tall, shapely blond was fired during rehearsals for a new Broadway musical because she was a clumsy dancer. But again, she wouldn’t quit. She turned to modeling, which ended because she became severely ill and had to spend nearly two years recuperating at home in Jamestown.

  Bouncing back, the lanky Lucy came to Hollywood’s attention when she modeled for a cigarette advertisement. She became one of producer Samuel Goldwyn’s “Goldwyn Girls,” dressing up the background of Eddie Cantor musicals such as Roman Holiday (1933). When that career path led nowhere, she moved over to Columbia Pictures and then, months later, on to RKO Pictures, where she finally found a safe harbor.

  At RKO, Lucy learned her skills during a long apprentice period. With supporting roles in the all-star Stage Door (1937) and Having Wonderful Time (1938), Lucy began to make her mark. Good pictures or bad, she kept turning out movies, sometimes seven in a single year. She was becoming RKO’s B-movie queen. While making Too Many Girls (1940), Ball fell in love with her costar, Desiderio Arnaz y de Acha—better known as Desi Arnaz, the bongo-playing Cuban heartthrob. On November 11, 1940, the couple eloped in Greenwich, Connecticut.

  By the time Lucy left RKO in 1942, she was earning $1,500 weekly. She always knew when to jump ship; this time she moved over to the lofty Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios. MGM transformed her into a glamorous redhead and showcased her in the musical DuBarry Was a Lady (1943). Instead of continuing with other prime roles, however, her career at the illustrious film factory stagnated. In 1947, the 36-year-old Lucy faced career facts. If she couldn’t be a big movie star, how about trying another medium? In fact, she tried several! She toured onstage in Dream Girl and that same year took on a radio comedy series, My Favorite Husband, which became a hit on the airwaves.

  By now, Lucy’s marriage to Desi was sinking. Both husband and wife were too career-oriented to give their union the time it needed, and the hard-living Desi had a wandering eye. Nevertheless, on July 17, 1951, Lucy gave birth to their first child, Lucie Désirée. To salvage their failing marriage, Lucy coaxed Desi (an astute businessman) into joining her on the TV sitcom I Love Lucy, a variation of her radio show My Favorite Husband. It debuted on October 15, 1951. The slapstick escapades of Lucy and Ricky Ricardo and their neighbors, Fred and Ethel Mertz (played by William Frawley and Vivian Vance), hit the nation’s funnybone. When Lucy became pregnant again, it was worked effectively into the comedy’s story line. She gave birth to Desi Jr. on January 19, 1953.

  Donald Woods and Lucille Ball in Beauty for the Asking (1939).

  Courtesy of JC Archives

  By the late 1950s, I Love Lucy had run its course, but it had made so much money that Lucille and Desi were able to buy RKO Studios and make it a division of their own production company, Desilu Productions. Sadly, however, America’s favorite couple were divorced on May 4, 1960. While on Broadway doing the musical Wildcat (1960), Ball met comedian Gary Morton; they were married in 1961. Forever addicted to the limelight, Lucy returned in two further comedies, The Lucy Show (1962–68) and Here’s Lucy (1968–74). As time passed, however, it grew harder for the aging Lucy to compete with fresher faces. Her final theatrical feature, Mame (1974), was a disaster on all levels. Thereafter, she took the path of many veteran stars: talk programs, game shows, and numerous award specials.

  In the mid-1980s Lucy’s health began to fail severely. Although she was now in her 70s, the tough veteran refused to give up. She made a dramatic TV movie, Stone Pillow (1985), playing a pathetic bag lady. Compulsive and demanding both at home and at work, Lucy was determined to prove she could do
it all again. In the fall of 1986 she returned in a new TV series, Life with Lucy. But what had been funny to audiences in the 1950s—when she was far younger—didn’t work 35 years later. The sitcom was yanked after only a few months.

  The professional humiliation did more damage to Lucy’s spirit than the stroke she suffered in May 1988. She rallied from that crisis, however, and appeared on the Oscar telecast that aired March 29, 1989, trading quips with her longtime friend and frequent costar Bob Hope. Despite her growing catalog of ailments, Lucy still did not want to retire.

  On April 18, 1989, Lucy had a heart attack, but refused to depart her Beverly Hills home for Cedars-Sinai Medical Center until she had applied her makeup. She underwent eight hours of open-heart surgery. Although she survived the ordeal, the prognosis was not good. Friends and fans rallied with thousands of messages of encouragement. On the evening of April 25, as her husband Gary left her hospital room, she said, “Good night, darling. See you in the morning.” Those were her final words to him. She died at 5:04 A.M. on April 26 of a massive heart attack. When Morton was given the bad news, he said tearfully, “I’ve lost my best friend.”

  According to Lucy’s final wishes, there was no funeral service. She was buried at Forest Lawn in Hollywood Hills. On Monday, May 8, 1989, a three-city set of tributes was held for Ball at eight P.M., the night and time of all her long-running, highly successful TV shows. At St. Monica’s Catholic Church in Santa Monica, at New York City’s St. Ignatius Loyola Catholic Church, and at Chicago’s Old St. Patrick Church, fans and friends united to memorialize the late comedian. In December 1991, a full-sized statue of Lucy was unveiled at the Television Academy’s Hall of Fame Court in North Hollywood, California.

  William Frawley died in 1966, Vivian Vance in 1979, and Desi Arnaz in 1986. With Lucy’s passing, the last of the famous I Love Lucy gang had gone. At least those remarkable reruns are there to constantly remind old and new generations of Lucy’s fantastic talent. In 2001, the U.S. Postal Service issued a solo Lucille Ball stamp as part of its “Legends of Hollywood” series. (Ball had previously been seen on a stamp in the Postal Service’s “Fabulous ’50s” series, in tandem with Desi Arnaz.)