Sublime

Mr. S put Karloff up there with the Barrymores. The only stars in Hollywood he may have admired as much were Bogart and Fred Astaire. He had met the horror icon on a studio lot in the late forties and had been bowled over by what an English gentleman he was. Karloff’s real name was William Henry Pratt and his two great passions in life were cricket

The desk clerk, whose name-plate identified him as G. O. Horner, was a thin, elderly man with protuberant eyes that gave him an expression of intense interest and curiosity. The expression was false. After thirty years in the business, people meant no more to him than individual bees do to a beekeeper. Their differences were lost in a welter of sta

After seeing Rosselli at his house, I asked Mr. S if Giancana had leaned on Rosselli to lean on Cohn to give him the part in From Here to Eternity, and he gave me a Cheshire-cat grin. “Hey, I got that part through my own fucking talent,” he said. And then he gave me a wink.