The following is from a movie magazine article by Jim Henaghan that appeared in the December,1961,issue of Motion Picture Magazine...
"I knew Gail Russell...She was exquisitely beautiful, she was shy.I was one of the first in Hollywood to hurt her, and she never forgave me.I wish I had made it up to her before it was too late...".It is an irony that a few months ago Gail Russell,the one they still called the movie star, couldn't have gotten her name in the papers unless it was in connection with some irregular escapade.She couldn't have gotten her picture in any magazine, because she was no longer in the limelight, nor engaged in a glamorous occupation that might interest reporters or editors.Today that is changed.Gail Russell is news.People are again interested in her.And why?Morbidity? No.Gail Russell is news today and merits attention because she died in circumstances that make Hollywood and the movie public companions in shame.Common bearers in guilt.For all of us, we in Hollywood and you out there, failed her-failed to understand her and did nothing to help her when she was in trouble.And her story is one we should never allow ourselves to forget.Remembering it, we can know our position clearly and give ourselves at least an opportunity to evaluate our obligations.Remembering it, we can vow to mend our ways and treat more kindly the next Gail Russell who comes along.Gail Russell died,I think, very much the way she would have wanted to, alone,and more than likely anesthetized against the pain.At some time during a three-day period, she slipped to the floor from a couch on which she had been lying in a torment of confusion and anguish, reaching closer for the numb quiet that always enveloped her when she drank enough liquor, and breathed that last sigh that was not of regret and slipped into eternal sleep.On which day she died or at what hour is not known, nor does it matter very much.For she had died many times in her young life, most of the time to awaken to fear and dread of the world she disliked for its wicked lack of concern.One day she did not awaken.Then,all possible care was gone from her;it mattered not, at last, if there was something in the house to drink,or if the phone would ring again, or if she'd be called upon to explain again.She was free.She was found, hours or days later, when a neighbor woman, missing her, peered in the window.After the formalities that follow such a situation were done with, her body was taken to a funeral parlor and prepared for a rite that took place three days later when services were held by her family and attended by a few,a very few, friends.Then she was taken to the Valhalla Cemetery in the San Fernando Valley and put into the ground and earth was piled on top of the oblong box that was to be her final residence; and the cars drove away and sod was fitted to the bare place on the grassy hill, patted with a shovel, and Gail Russell ceased to exist as a visible evidence of man's inhumanity to man.I knew Gail Russell from the first day she first came to pictures.She was an exquisitely beautiful kid, still in her teens, with eyes as blue as a wood hyacinth, direct and daring in their stare, almost challenging.Her mouth was soft and full and spoke of warmth within her.Her hair was raven black and long-and there was no ego in her beauty, it was as natural as the unprejudiced loveliness of an animal, unadorned and without conceit.She was,to be sure,a natural for pictures.For what reason I have forgotten,she didn't live with her family but stayed with a family named Lopez.The head of the house was an assistant cameraman at 20th Century-Fox and his daughter was Gail's best friend...(To Be Continued).Song "Where Did Our Summers Go" by Mantovani and His Orchestra.
8 сен 2021
