Posts Tagged ‘firearms’

Robert J. Avrech

Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner Shoot Out the Night

by Robert J. Avrech

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Ava Gardner, publicity photo for The Killers

The love affair—and I’m using that term loosely—between Ava Gardner and Frank Sinatra was doomed from the start. Both stars were emotionally immature with little impulse control. Both were alcoholics, and both had a history of affairs with equally unstable partners.

And so The Voice and The Shape plunged into a tsunami of a relationship and a six-year marriage (1951 – 1957) punctuated by unbridled passion, threats of suicide, and metronomic doses of violence.

In Autumn of 1949 Gardner and Sinatra, not yet lovers, were both guests at the Palm Springs home of producer Darryl F. Zanuck. The liquor flowed, and the two stars locked in on each other like lethal missiles.

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Robert J. Avrech

“I’m Against Guns and Violence, Unfortunately Reality Has Intruded on My Delusional Paradise.”

by Robert J. Avrech

JeanArthur_gun.jpg

“Thing is, he’s going to kill me.”

“Have you gone to the police?”

“Yes, of course I have.”

“And what happened?”

She shakes her head from side to side, wraps her arms protectively around her chest.

“I got a restraining order against Ned, that’s my ex-boyfriend. But you know what good that is, don’t you?”

“Tell me.”

She inscribes a big zero in the air. (more…)

Robert J. Avrech

Hollywood is Burning, Part II: Get-a-Way

by Robert J. Avrech

I have to protect my family.

I’m pretty sure the mob outside is dead serious about breaking in and getting down to some serious violence.

Not to mention liberating some pretty major karats. At the reception, I noticed huge diamonds whose glitter could induce seizures; watches: at least a dozen Cartier Tanks; I could not count the Rolex Oysters, and no doubt there’s enough loose cash to make your average L.A. rioter reasonably satisfied. This is, after all, an affluent Hollywood crowd.

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Robert J. Avrech

Hollywood is Burning, Part I: Trapped

by Robert J. Avrech

Hollywood is burning.

Karen and I lock every door in the house, shut tight the windows, we move through the house switching off all the lights.

L.A. Burns. Not a SFX scene from a movie. 
L.A. Burns. Not a SFX scene from a movie.

Gazing from our bedroom window, we watch orange flames lick at the darkness, pillars of black smoke climbing into the sky. We can actually smell the acrid odor of burning rubber.

“Look how close they are,” says Karen.

“Just past La Cienega. Maybe eight blocks away.” (more…)