The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

People Who Died #39

Scotty Beckett


swac said...

As a creepy footnote, his last screen credit was a decade before he died, on an episode of The George Sanders (!) Mystery Theatre titled "The Night I Died."

Check his lengthy bio on the IMDb; it's a sad, but fascinating, read.

Vanwall said...

Or Bobby Driscoll.

Tom Sutpen said...

I knew Beckett had a rocky time of it after his kid actor days (the fact that he offed himself says as much), but not until I clicked on the IMDb bio a few minutes ago and read that gothic horror story did I know the details. Jesus, but that's a lot of downfall to pack into just 38 years, is it not. I know a lot of child stars have gone down the drain, but his journey borders on an epic.

If I'm not mistaken, Bobby Driscoll went the junkie route, correct? I know he died from a heart attack and was buried in an unmarked pauper's grave for awhile.

Supposedly he's in Piero Heliczer's Dirt (1965; reputed to be his last screen appearance), but I've never spotted him.

Vanwall said...

The system chews 'em up and spits 'em out. Very sad, but then they would prolly have had the same tendencies on the outside, in the real world - see the latest Britney trailer-trash meltdown - but the write-up, if any, would be in the hometown local rag, and with no paparazzi input. I lost a friend many years ago in college who was seduced by the allure of fame, and the failure to achieve more after a little taste of it and many doomed attempts to repeat it, drove her to an overdose, and slit wrists as insurance that she transited. The local paper said nothing.