Free Where Are They Buried? by Tod Benoit

floor, and Astaire’s light voice was the perfect instrument to express his ardor.
    The duet evolved into the most beloved and celebrated dance team in the history of the American musical cinema. Ginger represented the down to earth while Fred was the elegant, European in grace. In ten dance musicals, they personified the idiosyncrasy of romance—two people who friends might never match up, but who are drawn together by an inexplicable attraction.
    By 1939 though, it was clear that the magic expressed through their dances was waning, and the two amicably went their separate ways. In the decades following, both Ginger and Fred had enviable professional careers, but the charm, grace, and style of their years together would never be surpassed.
    Fred died of pneumonia at 88 on July 22, 1987, and Ginger died at 83 on April 25, 1995, of congestive heart failure. They are both buried in Oakwood Memorial Park in Chatsworth, California.
    CEMETERY DIRECTIONS: From Highway 118, follow Topanga Canyon Boulevard south to Lassen Street. Turn right on Lassen and, after 1 mile, the park is in front of you.
    DIRECTIONS TO FRED’S GRAVE: Enter the cemetery, turn at the second right and stop at the left-hand curb marked “G-79.” Count seven markers down the hill and you’ll find Fred’s grave.
    DIRECTIONS TO GINGER’S GRAVE: Enter the cemetery, turn immediately right and, after you pass two drives, stop at the left-hand curb marked “256 E.” Count in fourteen markers and you’ll find Ginger’s grave.

MILTON BERLE
    JULY 2, 1908 – MARCH 27, 2002
    As Milton Berle’s father was never able to provide for his family very well—they lived in an assortment of crummy flats and brownstones in the Bronx and upper Manhattan—his mother was determined to make one of their progeny a star. She chose Milton, apparently her cutest child. After scoring a tin cup at a Charlie Chaplin look-alike contest, Milton became the boy in the Buster Brown shoe ads. With the help of his mother, a tireless promoter, Milton was a veteran of vaudeville by sixteen and had appeared in several silent films.
    Through the 1930s and ’40s, Milton was a popular master of ceremonies, performed nightclub comedy routines, was heard on a few radio programs, and appeared 553 times in the Ziegfeld Follies. The radio shows weren’t particularly successful for Milton; his style was too visual: the raised eyebrow, a turned head and a wink, a tap of the ever-present Cuban cigar. But in 1948 he received an offer to do the radio show
Texaco Star Theatre
, and Milton accepted the offer, though he really wanted to break into the new medium of television.
    The show was a hit, and its success led Texaco to sponsor an hourlong television version that fall. While some of his radio competitors were reluctant to risk flopping on the tube, Milton jumped at the opportunity and was the first of the big-name comedians to get his feet wet in television.
    The
Texaco Star Theatre
television show was finally renamed
The Milton Berle Show
in 1954. It was basically vaudeville on video (vaudeo, if you will) and it became immensely popular. For eight years the manic energy of “Uncle Miltie” permeated the Tuesdaynight airwaves with wacky skits and zany tunes, flying acrobats and full-bosomed showgirls and, of course, the no-holds-barred emcee Miltie, beaming with a Cheshire Cat-grin, dressed in drag and getting pies in the face.
    Milton’s success spawned many imitators, the show’s ratings eventually waned, and in 1956 it was cancelled. Milton was all but washed-up as a major television personality, and for the remainder of his years was relegated to guest spots, limited comedy tours, and appearances on talk shows and award programs. With time on his hands, Milton also put his energies into the Friars Club, a high-profile, who’s-who watering hole legendary for its honorary, good-natured “roasts.” As Abbot of the Friars’ Hollywood chapter, Milton presided over its jocular celebrity