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LOS ANGELES --- Perhaps the only way to comprehend the media tizzy
over the Robert Blake murder case is to accept the dearth of deep
tradition in Los Angeles. But there is one huge exception to this
cultural fact -- Hollywood.
Whether its
a legendary film location site, a retrospective festival about a
director or actor or (best of all) a juicy scandal involving a celebrity
-- especially one thats a former child star, as was Blake
-- its either a Hollywood story or its probably no story.
To illustrate
the point, you wouldnt think that the Polo Lounge at the Beverly
Hills Hotel would win the designation of an historic site, as occurred
some years ago. Its little more than one of numerous attractive
watering holes in L.A.
But youd
be wrong -- as was the Sultan of Brunei when he purchased the venerable
Pink Lady hotel and ordered a much-needed multimillion-dollar
overhaul of this famous tourist attraction and vacation site.
Not so fast,
cried the Beverly Hills City Council, ever protective of its few
urban monuments and traditions. Do what you need to do with the
rest of the hotel, but leave the Polo architecturally and decoratively
intact. The Polo was where Big Things Happened, as many a Hollywood
biography reveals.
At one time,
almost as many big deals might go down there as at the Chicago Board
of Trade. And so, the sultan was told, at the end of hotel makeover,
the Polo must look exactly as it appeared to the eye when, through
the decades, the moguls, agents and starlets would meet there to
meal, wheel and deal.
Why all this
fuss for a bar?
The answer goes
straight to the nature of American culture and its collective memory.
It is often said that Hollywood stars are American royalty, but
in fact they are more than that, even ones as second-tier as Blake.
Yes, they toil in the major industry of Southern California, and
their work is Americas single most potent worldwide export.
But even more,
this industrys work product -- works of art or commerce on
film -- fills an emotional and historical void as wide as the Grand
Canyon. For example, ask average U.S. college students about the
Korean War and likely they will mention the 70s hit TV series
MASH they saw in reruns.
To be sure,
Blake is no Marlon Brando (nor is O.J. Simpson, another accused
wife murderer). But he is still a celebrity. Thats why its
so revealing that media coverage of this star of the mediocre TV
series Baretta, charged with the murder of his wife,
rarely points out that Blake initially hit the American mass market
as a child actor on the silent film classic series Our Gang.
Blake played a very noisy Baby Mickey.
In Los Angeles,
a fallen child star has a tenacious grip on collective American
memory, even though more than half the populace is too young to
remember. From Judy Garland and the late Tommy Rettig of Lassie
to countless others, Americans have a special place in their hearts
for maturing kid stars gone wrong.
Indeed, America
is hard on the child actor. Pretty Babies, the classic
1983 account of Hollywood child actors by a child TV actress, Andrea
Darvi, opens with this poignant quote by the great English novelist
Anthony Trollope: Success is the necessary misfortune of life,
but it is only to the very young that it comes early.
For every Ron
Howard -- a child star in Happy Days who just won the
Oscar for directing A Beautiful Mind -- there are far
more Robert Blakes. So when a grown-up child actor meets his special
misfortune, Americans tend to feel more fortunate than ever.
That's why the
fallen-child-star story is almost as big a deal as the sinking of
the Titanic -- the movie, of course.
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