Is Ramon Novarro’s Murderer Posting to IMDb?

Ramon Novarro was born in Mexico in 1899, but his family fled to the United States during the Mexican Revolution. Novarro did some extra work in silent films in Hollywood and slowly worked his way up through the ranks to featured roles. Eventually he became a star. A HUGE star. He is often compared to Valentino and has been called “Hollywood’s First Latin American Superstar.” Unlike a lot of silent film stars, Novarro was successful in the transition to talkies. He was, by all accounts, a great guy who was loved by friends, fans, and those with whom he worked in the film industry. Sadly, today he is virtually forgotten, except by classic film fans. And readers of Hollywood Babylon.

Novarro was gay, and, unlike many other gay actors in Hollywood, he never succumbed to a marriage of convenience for the sake of appearance. I mention this only because, if he is known today, it is because of his death, and, specifically, the salacious (and seemingly maliciously exaggerated) version of the crime as recounted by Kenneth Anger in Hollywood Babylon. The story of the crime is here, but, briefly, on October 30, 1968, two young male hustlers showed up at Novarro’s house. The 69-year old Novarro had frequently hired male prostitutes and, according to one story, he may have hired one of the men on a previous occasion. He invited the two in. The two (who were brothers)  had heard a rumor that Novarro had thousands of dollars in cash hidden in the house (a rumor that wasn’t true). After an evening of drinking, the two spent several hours torturing Novarro, demanding he tell them where the cash was — the cash he didn’t have. Eventually Ramon Novarro died. The borthers were caught and tried for murder. They were found guilty, but, inexplicably, they served only a very short time in prison. After he was paroled for Novarro’s murder, the older brother (Paul Ferguson) served at least two prison sentences for rape. No one seems to know what happened to the younger brother. In John Rechy’s review of a Novarro biography, Rechy mentions that Paul Ferguson was in prison when the book was published, in 2002. Ferguson is now in his early 60s. For all I know he may still be in prison.

The reason I mention all this is because whilst perusing the Ramon Novarro message boards on IMDb after having watched my first Novarro move, I was shocked to discover that it appears that Paul Ferguson is posting there. When I realized who it was, it sent a chill through me. Imagine if Charles Manson were posting to a Sharon Tate message board somewhere, discussing the murder and disparaging the victim. I realize that this is the internet and anyone can purport to be anyone they want, but it seems likely that this is the actual murderer of Ramon Novarro, posting as himself, on IMDb.

Here are some of Paul Ferguson’s typo-ridden comments on IMDb (and, even more chilling than the fact that this is written by Paul Ferguson, the man who killed Ramon Novarro, is that the date of the comment is Oct. 30, 2007 — the 39th anniversary of the murder):

“Belive this; I know beyond all doubt neither of the two involved confessed to MURDER! They did admit what happened was a horrible and was a homicide but NOT a murder. YES ONE WAS A CHILD OF 17 and the actor – while a resonable talent – was indeed a 69 year old alcholic troll who preyed on underprivledge youth who were desperate for cash. In the trial there were over 100 checks written to various kids for sex. While I do feel badly for what happened that cold overcast night, I believe Assistant District Attorney James Ideman was the real criminal in that court room. His homophobic comments against Novarro are a matter of public record. As a result of this conviction – which occurred when Ronald Wilson Reagan was then governor of California – was appointed by President Ronald Wilson Reagan to a Federal Judgeship! Oh my, preppy [the poster to whom this comment is in response]. How nice it must be to live in the universe in which you do – where only those who are truly guilty are convicted (let alone charged) and that the legal system is perfect. Are you aware over 1500 person who have been executed by “We the people,” have been proven to have been innocent of the crimes they were charged and convicted of? do hope you will get your fact together and in a row before slamming (falsely) someone who knows all the details of what happened thus perpetrating the homophobia which ran roughshod over the entire case!”

In another comment, on the same day, he writes in reference to the Novarro biography reviewed by John Rechy (Beyond Paradise by Andre Soares):

“Also, if you did truly read the biography, I’m quite surprised you have not yet recognized…”

(Those ellipses really creep me out.) He then ends:

“Respectfully submitted, Pau1Fer9uson.”

In a comment a year earlier he wrote:

“It was a simple homicide, not a murder, and those involved in this death served their time.”

“Pau1Fer9uson” has posted a biography of himself here on IMDb.

“Born 1946 in Selma Alabama, Paul Ferguson taught himself to read by matching words on shopping lists with the items they represented. From then on his admiration for writing and writers was immense. By age five, he was writing and illustrating stories for his younger siblings. In 5th grade his story, The Forgiveness, concerning the life of Judas after hanging himself, left no dry eye in the house, including Sister Theresa’s after his first public reading. The story has been rewritten over the years, and was last read publicly in 1964, for a group of Wyoming convicts, to the same tearful results.

Beginning in 1963, with screenwriter Jack Marlowe, Mr. Ferguson worked and studied with writers from Los Angeles to New York, many of whom are now long since dead. 1966 saw his first professional assignment as Native American Civil Rights reporter for American Native Weekly, in Chicago. The following year “Night of the Fatal Trap,” an episode of The Wild, Wild West, he co-wrote with Jack Marlowe was originally aired 24 December 1965. ABC bought an option for his original half-hour/hour comedy-drama, Sweet Dream in 1968, but a prison sentence nixed the deal, and the network let the option expire.

Mr. Ferguson began writing articles for the award winning San Quentin News and quickly achieved the position of editor, then soon was hired to write, produce, direct, and announce a nightly half-hour radio news program aired 7 nights a week, from 1972 until his release in 1975 from San Quentin. 1973 saw him finally working for ABC, and Truman Capote for a 90 minute documentary on death row. He won his first P.E.N. Award in the 1974 best short fiction category for Dream No Dreams, and was named PEOPLE magazine’s Writer To Watch. The story has been published in 29 languages and in at least 50 countries. He developed and taught college level creative writing courses at San Quentin and studied under Gordon Lish, future editor of ESQUIRE magazine, among others. Upon release, Mr. Ferguson was commissioned by the Shaw Coal Company in Home, PA, to compile reports on the effects of strip mining on the environment and what could be done about it. He then was hired as an administrative assistant, where he stayed until the company was forced to shut down due to EPA violations his report had uncovered. Writing article on subjects based on what the market was demanding, he worked his way back to Alabama from California. His last newspaper appearance was in 1983 with Shipwrecked for The Selma Times Journal. He continued writing short stories and two filmographies on B Westerns. He also self-published “The Adventures of Bar-D,” a 180 page novella which sold 9,500 copies by word of mouth alone. Since 1989, Mr. Ferguson has written everyday, completing dozens of short stories, essays, plays, screenplays, articles, a nonfiction book The Rape of the Red Ryder on corruption within the Missouri Judicial System., and a novel, Contrary to Belief. He has won the P.E.N. Award four times: 1974 for fiction, Dream No Dreams 2000; for the essay, “The Horror,” 2004 for “The Dog,” a poem and 2002 best drama, Everything That’s Cool. Currently Mr. Ferguson is working on his sophomore novel, All Creatures Tremble, and served as an adviser for a week long Channel Four (UK) news special on US prison abuse worldwide and domestically, being produced by John Kelly. The above mentioned news special was aired on 2 March in Britain.”

(Interestingly, he mentions a stint at San Quentin, but neglects to say what sent him there.)

He posted as recently as a month ago.

He and his brother served only seven years for torturing and murdering Ramon Novarro.

Only one person seems to have realized just who IMDb poster “Pau1Fer9uson” is.

This is really, really creepy.

 

 

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Dewey Groom & The Longhorn Ballroom

Growing up in Dallas with a father who was a classic country music fan, I’d always heard of The Longhorn Ballroom. And I’d always heard of Dewey Groom. You can’t have one without the other. The place is still around, but it keeps opening and closing and opening and closing. I don’t think it’s active at the moment which is a real shame. I came too late to have seen the place at its glorious height as one of the country’s premiere country ballrooms. I even missed the infamous Sex Pistols appearance there in the ’70s. I DID make it once or twice when there was an atttempt to have occasional “alternative” shows there. The other day I came across an old magazine featuring an interview with Dewey Groom. Here is the article in all its questionable grammaticalness (with a few corrected typos).

COUNTRY MUSIC REPORTER (Grand Prairie, Texas) – July 1971

Dewey Groom: From the Mabank Flash To Big Daddy of Country Music
(Writer uncredited – presumably Wayne Beckham, the magazine’s editor)

Back before he combined dancehall keeping with his country singing, Dewey Groom was known on Dallas radio as the Mabank Flash – a reference to his Van Zandt County origins. He likes to talk of those origins, but he won’t complain nowadays if you call him the Lawrence Welk of country music.

I found him happy about his success as owner of the million-dollar Longhorn Ballroom on Corinth off Lamar [in Dallas, Texas]. But he was more inclined to talk of Angels Inc., the school for retarded children he helped found and hopes to see housed in a big new structure off Buckner, in East Dallas.

If he succeeds, it will be due to the middle-aged faithful who regularly go in thousands to the Longhorn to hear celebrities like Charley Pride or Jerry Lee Lewis, or simply to reassure themselves that the Mabank Flash of Dallas’ immediate postwar years is still in voice.

“I can’t yodel anymore,” Groom told me in the quiet-before-the-storm of a Friday afternoon, “but I still put in my 30 minutes singing and laughing up there with my band every working night – and I’m still hopeful that I don’t have an enemy in the world.”

Likely, he doesn’t; he’s climbed high in his 23 years of dancehall keeping since he opened at 1925 1/2 Main in the old Bounty Ballroom. He’s on the phone steadily to Nashville picking the talent that makes the Longhorn one of the biggest sound chambers anywhere for the Nashville Sound.

Only big name he’s missed is Johnny Cash – and he, Groom avows, is the biggest: a real philosopher and humanist.

Back in Groom’s youth the big name, he says, was Jimmie Rodgers, the old blues singer who started country music. But even before Rodgers became famous in the ’20s, the Groom family was a gospel singing crowd for certain.

“Daddy sang and my uncle was a singing schoolteacher,” he says. “In Deep East Texas, singing schools were everywhere. I joined. They taught you to read music and keep time. Gospel singing is pretty close to country music; so evenings we’d go across the fields to Uncle Bert Wise’s and listen to Jimmie Rodgers. Uncle Bert had the only phonograph around and got all the new records.”

Dewey imitated what he heard, but his friends said everything came out like Gene Autry. He believed them and went to look for a wider audience. He landed in Dallas at 10 with his guitar, but instead of instant fame, found work in a garage.

“I’d get up in the night and hang around a midnight radio show – I’d drop in on Bill Boyd’s old live 6 a.m. program on WRR,” he recalls. “Sometimes he’d let me sing on that show – the big time.”

But it wasn’t until he donned a uniform in 1941 that Groom had a real chance to stretch his lungs. He started singing in army rec halls and when he got overseas became the “Western part” of a divisional GI band which entertained for 42 months in the New Guinea area and Australia.

“I guess I became a professional then,” he reminisces, “but it was Hal ‘Pappy’ Horton that got me going in civilian life. I won $50 first prize on Pappy’s old Hillbilly Hit Parade in 1946. Then when he started his noon-time Cornbread Matinee, I was the singer. The show was a tremendous hit for 200 miles around Dallas. Pappy brought in Gene Autry and Roy Acuff. I was a hit, too. I played school shows and they used to tear the buttons off my clothes. Nobody knew it, but the Mabank Flash’s wife was making those pretty clothes I wore. I was the biggest thing in country singing around here, but she was the biggest thing in keeping me going.”

But Pappy died and the school shows Groom loved petered out. Too many bands were vying for a chance to put on shows in the schools. So Groom went to playing dances.

He ended up with Jack Ruby at the Silver Spur.

“I made Jack a lot of money,” he recalls, “at the time when he was deep in debt.”

“What kind of man was he?” I asked.

“A driver, and a talker – very emotional. Everybody liked him. He’d do anything in the world for you. But he didn’t understand country music. He wanted a sophisticated place, which you can’t have. He ran away my followers as fast as they turned up. Finally, the police that hung around the place told me I ought to get into business for myself. I borrowed $500 and opened up.”

It’s been a rough haul, says Groom, and he’s made it through several locations only because he understands the business – and that takes years.

Too many men rise and fall. Bob Wills, for instance, was the biggest bandleader in the world at one time – he outdrew Tommy Dorsey. Now – well, Groom will have a “tribute” dance for Wills, a man whom, next to Pappy Horton (whom he reveres as a great and good man), Groom admires most.

He cut his professional teeth on Wills’ songs – especially San Antonio Rose which, he confides, is simply an earlier Wills hit, Spanish Two Step, played backwards. Groom also has a taped narrative of Wills’ life, which has been a big radio hit. He expects the Wills Tribute Night to be a success.

“You can squeeze 2,000 people into the Longhorn,” he says, “and I guarantee the top guest stars from $1,500 to more than $2,000. They always make more than the guarantee. This week, it’s Ray Price. Other big names are Charley Pride, the Negro country singer, who I rank next to Johnny Cash, and people like George Jones, Tammy Wynette, Harold Morrison and Conway Twitty.”

As a lifetime member of the Country Music Hall of Fame, Groom is certain that another gospel-singer-type – Jimmy Davis, former governor of Louisiana – will go in the Hall of Fame this year.

Groom is sentimental about the old times and old-timers, but he knows it’s harder to please people nowadays. Variety is demanded. Even a little pop gets mixed with country music.

“People think I’m rich and I guess sometimes I want them to think so,” he confides, “but I don’t want to be. I want friends and I want to finish that school for Angel Inc. If I can do these two things, I’ll be happier even than I was when I was the Mabank Flash.”

“Daddy Dewey,” as he is known by many artists and fans, knows practically all the stars. He has had many of them on his stage. Dewey has contributed much to many artists in helping to get them started. Through the years he has recorded many records and written many songs as well.

The Longhorn Ballroom came about in October, 1968. Since then he has also purchased the old Guthrie Club and torn out the wall to increase the seating capacity to over 2,000, on a 4 1/2 acre plot that cost nearly $500,000.

Dewey Groom has become an authority on country music. He is often called upon for informative opinions on new country clubs or organizations. Many fellow club owners are personal friends and often obtain information about artists and business – [there's no] bitterness that often comes in competition.

It’s been a long way since Dewey first traded a bull-calf for a guitar to the present-day Longhorn Ballroom. It is without doubt “America’s Most Unique Ballroom.” A landmark in Dallas, and one of the few western ballrooms in America. Hand-painted murals cover the walls and country decor prevails. Top country artists appear here weekly [and] Dewey’s own 12-piece band appear[s] nightly.

Dewey.

Interior. Note the cactus pillars. I was there a couple of times when they were trying occasional “alternative” nights — I remember the place being a lot kitschier than this. WAY kitschier. (Right click and view these last three pictures for the full wide-angle images.)

Exterior.

These “buildings” formed a fake western streetscene outside the club — in kind of a horseshoe around the parking lot.

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High Grade: The Beer That’s Liquid Food!

I have a bunch of stuff crammed into boxes. I don’t even know what’s actually IN some of the boxes. There are books and papers and documents and potentially collectible stuff that I’ve acquired over the years, most of it coming from the bowels of my father’s book store. Sometimes I see stuff I don’t remember ever having seen before. Like yesterday, when I saw a postcard lying on the floor, near a box ominousely labeled “eBay.” This was the postcard (right click for a larger image):

I have to admit I’ve never heard of High Grade Beer, “The Beer That’s Liquid Food,” but, damn, that’s a cool-looking brewery. I investigated further.

According to The Handbook of Texas, “The Galveston Brewing Company (1895-1918) was one of the few regional breweries that survived Prohibition. Adolphus Busch and William J. Lemp of St. Louis were both major stockholders of the corporation that raised $400,000 to found the Galveston Brewing Company in 1895. The brewery formally began operations on February 3, 1896. The pre-Prohibition physical plant consisted of a large ice plant that could produce seventy-five tons of ice, and a modern brewery that could produce 75,000 barrels of beer a year. The plant also had cold-storage rooms and railroad tracks on two sides of the building. The company dug several wells that gave a water supply of two million gallons a day. The Galveston brewery was so well constructed that it survived the Galveston hurricane of 1900 with only minor damage. The major product of the Galveston brewery before Prohibition was a beer called High Grade.”

Sounds like a pretty amazing operation (I’m not sure about post-Ike, but I think the building still stands).

I found a couple of amusing ads for the beer that appeared in the Galveston Daily News. These two ads appeared in 1908 and 1909, and this campaign featuring the annoying “Otto” seems to have gone on for quite some time. The first one, from 1908, is my favorite:

The kids … they love the beer.

The second one, from 1909, isn’t as “enlightening” as the first, but it gives a nice nod to the hard-working (and always sober) Galveston brewery workers:

More successful, I think, (and certainly less didactic) is this typically lovely example of early-20th century advertising art, featuring beer-loving mermaids prettily washed up on the rocks below the Galveston seawall:

I am endlessly fascinated by the weirdness of advertising.

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It’s One O’Clock and Here Is Mary Margaret McBride

Having discussed my impressions of watching an interview with a heretofore unknown (to me) Mary Margaret McBride in my previous post, I felt I needed to learn more about a woman who had been so important in the daily lives of so many people at one time but who is now almost completely forgotten. I was happy to see that there is a fairly recently published biography of her called It’s One O’Clock and Here Is Mary Margaret McBride: A Radio Biography by Susan Ware. I read the book yesterday — the whole thing in one day, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I was fascinated by MMM when I watched her on the the Mike Wallace Interview show, and I wanted to find out more about her, so I was happy to see that there was a biography of this woman I knew nothing about — I ordered it on Monday, it arrived on Thursday, and I read it Saturday. And I’m proud to say that I now know a LOT about MMM. That she has drifted into obscurity is a crime. She was a pioneering broadcaster in the 1930s through the 1950s, and she was one of the best-known and most-loved radio personalities of her era. I have a feeling that she WOULD be remembered were it not for the fact that she was a woman whose audience was primarily women (although her show was not a “women’s show”).

I wish I had known her. I also wish I had been able to listen to her daily 45-minute interview show. I’m sure I would have a learned a lot about the world, the arts, and about MMM herself. And, like all of her listeners, I’m sure I would have felt that I was listening to a gentle and soft-spoken friend who would ask her guests all the questions I would want to ask myself. Now I know why Mike Wallace, of all people, spoke to her with such warmth and respect. Every woman now toiling in the broadcast industry owes her a great debt. If only more of them possessed her charm and genuine curiosity.

Susan Ware is interviewed about the book on NPR here.

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