~~AMONGST THE STARS~~

As the evening's temperature continues to drop and the moisture gathers, I find it most fitting in regards to today's depressing anniversary. Generally I enjoy this kind of weather. As I was born in Los Angeles and then proceeded to spend my life thus far in neighboring counties, I do appreciate this much needed rain. It is the cold and constant moisture which resolutely refuses to abate that surprises me. What surprises me more, is that this is precisely the very same weather conditions which enveloped Ross 80 years ago tonight. The open space of his San Fernando ranch invited the clinging fog and blanketed the usual star-smothered sky. No sparkle of reassurance, no friendly shining light to bring comfort. After slowly walking about his property for nearly an hour, he may have taken one last look around him, one last look at the sky.  Proceeding to the barn, he quietly pulled the awkward wooden doors together. Climbing up the ladder leaning against the hay loft, he lay down length wise and within a few moments, put the .22 caliber pistol to the side of his head and pulled the trigger.  

~~Blame Not The Author.....Blame The Damned Computer~~

Well, this is most frustrating. July 27th---Ross's 109th natal anniversary---came and went without nary a word from this page. As the "author" of this masterpiece, I take full credit for being the pathetic absentee that I am. I do have a legitimate excuse: my computer had quietly collapsed and refused all beseeching, begging and downright grovelling to no avail. With the benevolent aid and patience of a gifted family member, my computer has been reasonably healed and I have finally been able to get online once again. Nonetheless, here it is...August 13th...and Ross' birthday has quietly slipped away.  I sincerely hope he was celebrated by those of you who are fans and perhaps observed his day with both affection and chocolate cake as this was reportedly his favorite. He was and still remains deserving of remembrance.

Once again this dark night is upon us and my thoughts go with Ross as he resolutely walked towards   his ranch's empty barn. Christmas had come and gone...so had his visiting parents. His marriage with Anne Nagel was nothing he particularly wanted nor needed to sustain.

He couldn't reach within himself to find a reason to continue. His career, his marriage, his parents....there literally nothing that could keep him here any longer. The end had mercifully been reached.

Please excuse the lateness of this posting; it is because of personal reasons, NONE of which is regarding Ross. Trust me, January 2nd has been and will always be about Ross Alexander. At this point in my life, I cannot remember when it wasn't. In the early evening, when it is cold and moist with a sweetness about the air, I stand outside and can almost feel him near me. It is one hour's drive from my home to the location of his ranch and yet, it is as though I literally can touch him. It's been this way since I was a child and as of 2016, it has not changed. I have a goodly handful of favorite film stars and other public figures. But he is the ONLY one who has ever affected, has ever REACHED me the way Alexander Ross Smith has. Why? I have YET to find out......but trust me, if I ever do......you will be the first to know.

                                            ~I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry~

~~This Evening~~

Less than three months after HERE COMES CARTER was completed, Ross Alexander lay dead in the hayloft of his ranch. The lovely young woman whose face is partially visible is Anne Nagel, to whom Ross was married for such a brief time. This pose comes at the end of the film, indicating all is well and our romantic couple will be living happily ever after. The guarded expression in his eyes however, indicates an entirely different story. In spite of the wane smile, Ross Alexander has withdrawn. He is no longer emotionally available. There, but not there. Being, but not being.

~~TODAY!~~

~ONE HUNDRED & FIVE AND STILL DOESN'T LOOK OVER THIRTY~

And as the sun sets slowly in the west,  I want to wish Captain Peter Blood a fond farewell--once again--and oh yes, a very merry birthday to Mr. Flynn. I love this portrait of Errol, not just because of the beauty of the man (although it is a shade influential) but because 1935 surreptitiously sneaks its way into the photo. Smooth sailing, one & all!