In 1941, Merriman Smith became the White House correspondent for United Press International (UPI), a position he held until the Nixon administration. He began the tradition of closing his presidential conferences with “Thank you, Mr. President,” a practice still used by current correspondents.

On November 22, 1963, Merriman Smith sat with several other reporters in the back of a radio car as it made its way down Elm Street in Dallas, Texas — a few hundred feet behind the presidential limousine. Merriman, a regular at a shooting range frequented by Secret Service agents, immediately recognized the sound of three distinct gunshots. He looked up to see a commotion in the open-top presidential vehicle as it sped away. Merriman immediately grabbed the radio and fired off a bulletin to the UPI news desk — a bulletin that, at this point, was pure speculation. A bulletin that could bring him notoriety as easily as it could ruin his career. A mere four minutes after shots rang out in Dealey Plaza, Merriman dictated “THREE SHOTS WERE FIRED AT PRESIDENT KENNEDY’S MOTORCADE IN DOWNTOWN DALLAS” to the operator at UPI headquarters. He waited for confirmation as the Associated Press’ Jack Bell tried to pull the phone away. Merriman’s words were the first account the world received of JFK’s assassination. The press car followed the limo to Parkland Hospital. As it pulled into the emergency room entrance, Merriman tossed the now-dead phone to Bell and ran up to a Secret Service agent who answered his query about the President’s condition with “He’s dead, Smitty.”

Thinking quickly like a true newsman, Merriman hitched a ride with a Dallas policeman to the airport in time to see Vice-President Lyndon Johnson sworn in as the 36th President of the United States.

In 1964, Merriman won the Pulitzer Prize for his coverage of the assassination of President Kennedy. He was the first to use the term “grassy knoll,” a term that would appear in virtually every future account of the incident.

In 1970, Merriman recognized one more sound of gunshot. It was the one that came from his own revolver. The one he used to put a bullet in his head.

Comments

comments

Andy Kaufman took the whole world for a ride.

From his beginnings as a stand-up comic, Andy marched to his own beat. When he performed a short bit on the premiere episode of NBC’s Saturday Night Live,  no one knew what to make of him… and that’s just what Andy wanted. After an introduction by guest host George Carlin, Andy took the stage and set up a small phonograph. He stood quietly as a recording of the Might Mouse cartoon theme played — to the awkward chagrin of the studio audience. When the tune reached the familiar “Here I come to save the day” lyric, Andy bounced and gestured dramatically, lip-syncing the words perfectly… then resumed his position and waited for the line to roll around again. When he finished his unusual act, he thanked the crowd in an a unplaceable, but decidedly foreign accent. On a subsequent appearance, he did disastrous impressions of President Carter and Archie Bunker, each in the same uneasy, foreign-tinged voice. The confused studio audience rewarded him with nervous, awkward giggles. Then, he announced his finale — an impression of “de Elvis Presley.” After brief preparation of fixing his hair and altering his clothes to reveal previously hidden sequin accents, Andy transfixed the audience with a dead-on impersonation of The King.

And so began Andy’s life-long quest to baffle everyone.

Andy was a hot property on the stand-up circuit and was soon cast on the sitcom Taxi,  playing mechanic Latka Gravas, a variant of his “Foreign Man” character. He began playing larger venues when his popularity increased and audiences came in droves never knowing what to expect from one of his shows. He gave one performance with his grandmother seated prominently on the stage for the entire show. At the show’s conclusion, it was revealed that Andy’s “grandmother” was fellow comedian Robin Williams concealed under heavy theatrical makeup. Another show concluded with Andy taking the entire audience — twenty busloads — out for milk and cookies. Sometimes, Andy would punish his audience by reading the novel The Great Gatsby,  never yielding even as complaining patrons left the venue. Even as Andy’s fame and recognition heightened, he regularly and dutifully worked as a busboy at Jerry’s Famous Deli in Los Angeles.

Andy gave an infamous performance on the late-night ABC show Fridays  (a knock-off of Saturday Night Live ). He appeared in a sketch in which he broke character and refused to deliver his lines. Cast members grew furious and the audience was bewildered. Cast member Michael Richards (in an early pre-Seinfeld  role) dumped a stack of cue-cards on Andy’s head and producer Jack Burns took a few swings at the comedian. It was all a elaborate practical joke masterminded by Andy.

While on Taxi,  Andy introduced obnoxious lounge singer Tony Clifton and insisted he be given a role on the show. Again, it was another hoax, as Clifton turned out to be Andy in disguise.

In the early 80s, Andy switched gears and adopted a leering, abhorrent personality, becoming the self-appointed “Inter-Gender Wrestling Champion of the World.” He wrestled women, taunting and humiliating them, offering $1000 to any woman who could pin him in the ring. Among his “opponents” were his friend, singer Laurie Anderson. Andy accepted a challenge from professional wrestler Jerry Lawler. During their match, Lawler delivered a piledriver that seriously injured the much-smaller Andy. A hospitalized Andy threatened a lawsuit. Years later, it was revealed to be a hoax executed by long-time friends Andy and Lawler.

In late 1983, Andy’s family expressed concern at the persistent cough Andy exhibited during a visit for Thanksgiving dinner. Andy, a life-long, non-smoking, health conscious vegetarian, was diagnosed with a rare type of lung cancer. He took all sorts of measures to combat the disease, from special diets to chemotherapy to psychic surgery performed in Philippines. Keeping his illness a secret from the public, Andy passed away from kidney failure in May 1984 at the age of 35. Once again, Andy’s death was believed by some to be just another extravagant prank. A year later, when Tony Clifton appeared at The Comedy Store in Los Angeles, those beliefs were reinforced. (Tony was actually portrayed by Andy’s long-time collaborator Bob Zmuda.)

Although, Andy had the last laugh.

Comments

comments

Nineteen-year-old Pamela Courson met Jim Morrison in a club on Sunset Boulevard in 1965. They remained a couple for six years, when Pamela found Jim dead in their Paris apartment’s bathtub.

After Jim’s death, Pamela returned to Los Angeles and shunned all publicity, essentially becoming a recluse. She became a heavy heroin user and allegedly began working as a prostitute to subsidize the high cost of her lavish lifestyle and ever-increasing drug habit. She often talked about seeing Jim Morrison again and on April 25, 1974, Pamela got her wish. She overdosed on heroin in the apartment she shared with two friends.

Pamela’s parents made plans to have their daughter interred next to Jim in a Paris cemetery, but their plans were dashed by legal issues involving the international transport of the body. Although her death certificate lists “Père Lachaise Cemetery” as her final resting place, Pamela is, in fact, buried in Santa Ana, California.

Upon her death, Pamela’s parents inherited the remains of the fortune that Jim Morrison had left when he died. Jim’s parents contested the legalities of the Morrison-Courson union. Eventually, the Coursons retained control of the estate, as the California courts recognized that Pamela and Jim had a common-law marriage.

Comments

comments