Eric Fleming

When I arose this morning, it was nice and bright outside.  I thought, boy, the forecasters are really screwing up the weather reports....  since they said we'd awake to snow flurries today.  I went to the store, chatted with Jake, Renee, Jaimie, and VT.  I got back home, opened the patio door for the kits to run for a few minutes, and sat down to check my e-mail.  Within 15 minutes, I had to turn on the overhead lights, as it was getting darker, and not lighter, outside.  When I went to spend time with Ooch this morning, I stepped out the front door and into a snow flurry.  So the flurries arrived a little later than expected; they also said we might get rain this afternoon.  We'll see.  It's barely 32 degrees right now.  Lovey is currently sitting on the corner of my desk, while Nedi is on the patio, watching the squirrels.
   I posted the Snow family paternal web site yesterday, and then I did some investigating of Eric Fleming.  I don't know why he has grabbed my attention so tightly, especially since he died when I was 10.  Anyway, I found out that he was born in Santa Paula, California.  His father was an oil rigger and, according to Eric, he was "very sadistic."  When he was 8 years old, his father beat him with the buckle of a belt so badly that he couldn't get out of bed for two days.  Once he was recovered, he waited until his father was passed out in a living room chair, and attempted to shoot his father in the temple, point blank, with a revolver.  The gun misfired, but awoke his father.  Eric felt he had no choice other than to run for his life.  At the age of 8, he hopped a freight train and traveled throughout the west, ending up in Chicago.  He said he was always very big for his age; he was born with a club foot and spent the first 6 years of his life wearing a brace on one leg to make him walk "correctly."  He also commented many times on the fact that not only was he a huge, hulking kid, he was also extremely ugly, with a nose that was designed for a face twice the size of his.  In any event, he became a runner for street gangs and the mob in Chicago, and spent more than a year as a runner for an exclusive, high-end madame.  He was involved in a gang fight in Chicago when he was 12, which ended up with Eric in the hospital with multiple broken bones - arms, legs, ribs, and his nose.  When the hospital found he was a "run away," he was escorted back to California.  But the police who took him to his father's house saw how terrified the boy was, and took him to his mother's house instead.  (During his absence, his mother had left his father and filed for divorce, citing mental and physical cruelty; the divorce was granted.)  His attendance at school was very piece meal; he spoke English and Spanish fluently; but due to his size and looks, he frequently just skipped out.  He worked multiple jobs to  have spending money - including being a soda jerk, short order cook, and being a hod-carrier on construction sites (which meant he carried large baskets of brick and mortar from place to place).  At the age of 15, he told the Navy he was 17 or 18, and joined up with the Merchant Marines.  He had picked up carpentry skills as a hod-carrier, and he applied those skills to his current employment.  He left the Merchant Marines and joined the Seabees as a Master Carpenter.  It was in 1947 that he was adjusting a 200-pound block of steel, when it slipped and crushed his face.  When he first awoke after the accident, and was told what happened, he says he thought, "I've been ugly all my life.  This isn't terrible - unless I lose my eyes."  Miraculously, he did manage to keep both eyes - and the Seabees paid for 20 different facial surgeries.  He returned to California, and went back to work on construction projects.  A boss loaned him $15 to join the Union, and he was suddenly employed working on Hollywood sets.  That's when he became interested in acting.....

Brownies and Laughter

Gee, it's above freezing - actually, it's 37 degrees outside and the sun is shining.  The snow is still melting and evaporating away (there are still 5 inches in the back yard); and the weather folks are calling for partly sunny skies until the weekend, with highs in the upper-30s and low-40s.  I've got a head-cold, but am otherwise OK.  I handed out 20 packages of brownies this morning - and I only missed one person that I'm aware of.  And last night, after I went to bed, I was reading and I ended up laughing out loud - a huge belly laugh - sometime after midnight.  Lovey sat up from her position on my knees and gave me a dirty look, while Nedi came to investigate.  It was the description of a poor sea-sick man in extremely rough seas, below decks with quite a few people, and a loose crate of chickens that kept sliding, as the ship was tossed (this was in 1760).  In any event, I easily identified with the nauseated character, and having groaned a few times in commiseration, I ended up laughing when he fell onto the chicken crate, which broke, and the ensuing havoc the chickens caused in the cabin.  It was hysterical.
  And, I have to ask others, did I miss out on knowing something?  I had no idea that actor Eric Fleming had a completely "rebuilt" face - I always thought that his skin looked tight and stretched on his face, but I had no idea that he had a 200-pound lead weight smash into his face while he was working with the Seabees in World War II.  Of course, he had multiple reconstructive surgeries....  so now I wonder what Edward Heddy looked like before his accident and his taking the name Eric Fleming.  I always loved him on Rawhide and in The Glass-Bottom Boat - and he was one of Mom's favorite actors.  And I guess the circumstances of his death are still a mystery, too - he went out of a canoe just before extremely rocky rapids on a river in Peru.  He was due to be married in two days, and filming had been going well.  One of the photographers said that he "dove" into the rocks....  All I know is that Mom was devastated when it was announced he was dead.   (And I think they didn't find his body until two days later?....   Guess I need to read up on it.)
  Not much else going on here.  I am sorry that Whitney Houston passed away at the age of 48, but I am already tired of hearing about it.  Last night, I checked the "Entertainment News" section before going to bed, and all 10 headlines had her name in them.  It's overkill, as usual, with the press.