Where Are They Buried? (23 page)

After a series of strokes and congestive heart failure over several years, Ted died of cardiac arrest at 83.

After his death, Ted’s body was taken to the Alcor Life Extension Foundation’s cryogenic facility in Scottsdale, Arizona, though his will stated that he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes
scattered at sea off the Florida coast. The change of plans came about when it was revealed that in November 2000, Ted, his son John Henry, and his daughter Claudia entered into a pact to freeze themselves after their deaths, according to a note that was filed in court. The handwritten pact, signed by all three parties, read “JHW, Claudia, and Dad all agree to be put in Bio-stasis after we die. This is what we want, to be able to be together in the future, even if it is only a chance.”

The note was challenged in court by Ted’s oldest daughter, Bobby Jo. She was left out of the pact and maintained that, since the note was made during a “tender moment before a surgery,” it wasn’t valid because Ted wasn’t thinking straight. In December 2002, an accord was reached and Ted will hang indefinitely upside down in one of Alcor’s liquid nitrogen-filled, cryonic suspension tanks at minus 325 degrees.

MARCH 29, 1867 – NOVEMBER 4, 1955

His nickname arising from the shortened “Cyclone” moniker given him by a sportswriter, Denton “Cy” Young was an anatomical pitching marvel whose arm seemed never to tire. Over 22 seasons he started more than 800 games, finishing with more wins, more innings, and more complete games than any other hurler. One hundred years later, his records remain unchallenged.

Cy’s Major League debut came in 1890 with Cleveland, where he stayed until 1898. After a two-year stint for St. Louis, he ended up in Boston and remained there until retirement. During that time, Cy pitched the first perfect game in American League history, threw three no-hitters, and was honored to throw the first-ever pitch in a World Series. Finishing his career with 511 wins, Cy retired to his native Ohio in 1911.

At home, seated in his favorite armchair, Cy suffered a fatal heart attack at the age of 88 and was buried at the Church Cemetery in Peoli, Ohio.

CEMETERY DIRECTIONS:
From the north, take Exit 65 off I-77 and follow Route 36 west for two miles to County Road 258. Turn left and follow CR 258 east for 11½ miles, at which point the cemetery will be on your right.

From the south, take Exit 54 off I-77, follow CR 541 east, then CR35 north, to CR 258. Make a right onto CR 258 and the cemetery is four miles ahead on the right.

GRAVE DIRECTIONS:
Cy’s plot is approximately in the center of this small cemetery. You’ll see his stone about 50 feet to the left of the twin cedar trees.

Baseball didn’t forget about Cy Young and in 1956, when an award program to recognize the outstanding pitcher of the Major Leagues was established, it was named the Cy Young Memorial Award. In 1967 the award was expanded to recognize two pitchers each year—one from each league—and today the award is the game’s most-coveted pitching honor.

JUNE 26, 1911 – SEPTEMBER 27, 1956

From the time she was in grade school, Mildred Zaharias embarrassed the boys at mumblety-peg, beat them in foot races, and outplayed them in basketball and baseball. Her “Babe” nickname, after Babe Ruth, was picked up for swatting five home runs in a single sandlot game. She didn’t “waste time with dolls,” preferring instead to condition herself with a backyard weightlifting machine built from broom sticks and her mother’s flat irons. Domestic occupations were up her alley; in 1931 she won the Texas State Fair Sewing Championship and could type eighty-six words a minute.

As a teenager Babe led the Golden Cyclones women’s basketball team to a national victory and then in 1932 captained a track and field squad at the Amateur Athletic Union Championships where she single-handedly amassed more points than the entire second-place team. This performance qualified her for the 1932 Olympics, where she broke world records in javelin, hurdles, and high jump. Such Olympic prowess today would yield millions in endorsements, but Babe received little more than a rousing welcome upon returning home. To make a living, she spent the next few years barnstorming and, between bowling tournaments and billiards exhibitions, she belted out hillbilly tunes on stage with a harmonica.

One of those rare folks for whom any hand-eye activity was effortless, Babe finally found a lucrative niche in golf and in 1947 racked seventeen straight amateur victories—a feat still unequaled by anyone. Capping that string of wins with the British Ladies’ Championship, she turned pro the next year and eventually won ten majors. In 1945 Babe made the cut at the men’s Los Angeles
Open, making her the first (and currently only) woman to ever do so. Regularly driving the ball 240 yards, Babe let admirers in on her secret: “You’ve got to loosen your girdle and really let the ball have it.”

In 1953 Babe was diagnosed and treated for colon cancer but the condition hardly caused a misstep; returning to the golf tour the next year, she won her third U.S. Open. By 1955 though, the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes and the disease took Babe’s life at 45.

She is buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Beaumont, Texas.

CEMETERY DIRECTIONS:
At the intersection of I-10 and Route 90, take Exit 855 and follow Pine Street two miles north to the cemetery.

GRAVE DIRECTIONS:
Enter the cemetery, turn left and then stay right at the “Y”. You’ll see Babe’s grave on the right in Section J surrounded by trees and bushes, and a petrified pair of her track shoes permanently attached to the memorial.

MAY 30, 1908 – JULY 10, 1989

Mel Blanc entered radio acting in 1933 and later gained fame as “the Man of 1,000 Voices,” supplying the vocals for hundreds of popular and beloved animated cartoon characters, including Bugs Bunny, Woody Woodpecker, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, and others. Though Mel was virtually never seen on the silver screen during the golden era of
Merrie Melodies
cartoons, the myriad permutations of his acrobatic vocal cords have remained instantly recognizable by children of all ages around the globe for more than 60 years. Among the many lines he repeatedly uttered were “Eh … what’s up, Doc?” through the wiseacre hare, Bugs Bunny; “I tawt I taw a putty tat,” from the tart-tongued canary Tweety; and, of course, the stutter-strewn meanderings of Porky, the wistful pig.

“You know, my wife talks to me a lot about retiring,” he once told an interviewer. “I say to her, ‘What the hell for?’ I never want to stop. When I kick off, well, I kick off.” Or, as Porky said over those many years: “That’s all folks!”

Mel died at 81 of heart disease and is buried at Hollywood Forever in Hollywood, California.

CEMETERY DIRECTIONS:
The cemetery is easy to find at 6000 Santa Monica Blvd., just west of Highway 101.

GRAVE DIRECTIONS:
Enter the cemetery, stay straight, and then stop about 150 feet past the second drive on your left. There at the curb on your left is Mel’s grave.

APRIL 3, 1924 – JULY 1, 2004

In the 1950s, a handsome and hypnotic Marlon Brando ruled Hollywood and was nominated for the Best Actor Academy Award five times. Among peers as well as an adoring public, the brooding and lusty star was widely considered to be among the best actors in the world. Yet by the end of his life, Marlon, who on separate occasions had summited as the wild one, the Godfather, and the could-a-been contender, had devolved into a self-parody of obesity and bizarre behavior.

Raised in Nebraska by alcoholic parents, Marlon, after being expelled from a Minnesota military school in 1943, moved to New York and worked as a department store elevator boy. He debuted on stage after a brief stint in acting school, and three short years later made theatrical history with a brutish yet complex performance as Stanley Kowalski in Tennessee Williams’
A Streetcar Named Desire
, which he later recaptured on film.

Accolades poured in over the next decade for performances in
The Wild One
,
Julius Caesar
, and
On the Waterfront
, making Marlon
the
symbol for rebellion against stuffy American conformity of the era. But, by the 1960s, he didn’t seem to stand for anything, appearing in one ludicrous bomb after another while gaining a reputation of being deliberately unreasonable, going as far as wearing earplugs to avoid hearing direction on the set. And Marlon didn’t seem to care, either. “I get excited about something, but it never lasts longer than seven minutes,” he said. “Seven minutes exactly. That’s my limit.”

In 1972 though, Marlon experienced an unexpected renaissance for his role as Mafia boss Vito Corleone in
The Godfather
. His delivery of “make him an offer he can’t refuse” joined other timeless catchphrases of his career, including “I coulda been a contenda” and his tortured cry of “Stella! Stella!” Marlon was nominated for another Best Actor Academy Award for his role
as Corleone but refused to appear at the ceremonies and instead dispatched a Native American woman who read a Brando indictment of policies toward American Indians. (She was later revealed to be an actress named Maria Cruz and a former Miss American Vampire, whatever that is.)

In 1979 came another high-water mark as Marlon nailed the role of Army Col. Walter E. Kurtz, a shaved-headed symbol of madness in
Apocalypse Now
. However, for the better part of forty years, Brando viewed acting as a lark and, not surprisingly, his personal setbacks and erratic behavior comprised the majority of news about him.

In 1990 his oldest son Christian killed the lover of Marlon’s daughter, Cheyenne. Christian was sentenced to 10 years in prison, and Cheyenne eventually committed suicide. In 1995 Brando sought Irish citizenship because Tahitian gangsters had supposedly put a contract on his life for his role in the financial destruction of a particular atoll he’d purchased. The public read about the bitter breakups of three marriages, his thirteen children with at least six women, and the disintegration of his physique as he ballooned to more than 350 pounds. Odd behavior included kissing TV host Larry King on the lips during an interview before signing off with, “Goodbye, darling.” Before it was even released, he ridiculed his movie
The Freshman
as the biggest turkey of all time. In his last years, Marlon lived as a recluse, his refrigerator reportedly padlocked so he wouldn’t eat himself to death.

“I’ve had so much misery in my life, being famous and wealthy,” he told an interviewer in 1990, and explained that he’d withdrawn under the stress of being constantly in the public eye. “But I am myself, and if I have to hit my head against a brick wall to remain true, I will do it.”

At 80, Marlon’s numerous health problems got the best of him. He was cremated and his ashes spread in Tahiti and Death Valley.