HEY THERE GUYS AND DOLLS!!!
Thanks for stopping by my little corner of the web, whatever that is. My GRANDSON resurrected me for this blurb about my life. I died March 3, 1944. The last thing I remember is driving down Hollywood Blvd. in my Rolls Royce, and the last thing I heard was my damned assistant driving my car away as I took my last breath lying on the sidewalk at Hollywood and Vine – that slime ball.
I hovered around long enough to see some gal write cirrhosis of the liver on my death certificate, but don’t believe everything you read. I like a snoot as well as the next fellow, but I’d never been sick a day in my life, and to drop dead like that at the age of 45…well, it’s a mystery to me.
Before my inglorious ending, I had a swell time. I started my career as a cameraman at Vitagraph, moved on to Metropolitan Studio in 1927, which turned into Warner Bros. First National Studios, then later just Warner Bros.
By 1934 I’d taken more than 160,000 portraits of all the major (and minor) stars like Errol Flynn, Joey Brown, Delores del Rio, Clark Gable, Betty Davis, Edward G. Robinson (who got his mug on a US stamp with one of my portraits), a B actor named Ronald Reagan, and thousands more in movie stills.
After the Pearl Harbor attack, me and my boys joined the Air Force to do our part and make war documentaries on the Warner Bros lot.
Speaking of films, I could mention a couple I worked on:
Okay, I’ll admit it, those Masquers parties no doubt did some damage to my liver.
And since I died while in the Air Force while making those Warner Bros. war documentaries, I got myself a plot in The National Military Cemetery in Westwood. Not bad for a wood-cutter’s son born far away from the lights of Hollywood in the great state of Missouri.
by C. Reeder for Roger S. Nichols (1944 – 2011)