It was an odd day in Hollywood. In the morning, the major sex symbol of the seventies, Farah Fawcett, died – at Saint John's Hospital over in Santa Monica. She was sixty-two. Many of us are. And in early afternoon, Michael Jackson, the "King of Pop" and for many decades the biggest celebrity in the world, and only fifty, had a heart attack at the giant mansion he was renting over off Sunset, and died as they got him to the nearby UCLA Medical Center.
This was the scene at Farah Fawcett's star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame – on the northwest corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Sycamore, right in front of the Scientology Place, the L. Ron Hubbard Gallery. News vans lined the streets and there were her sad fans everywhere, and paparazzi and whatnot. This was between the two deaths. The news vans must have quickly been off to the UCLA hospital over in Westwood and the fans off to place flowers on his star, just to the east, in front of the Chinese Theater (but that would have to wait, as there was another premiere there that afternoon).
This is an odd place.