It took 90 minutes of tramping up and down rows, and finally backtracking over a hill, to the information kiosk, to find Ernie Kovacs.
Someone had placed at his grave a tiny purple bouquet, which I immediately, carelessly, knocked over, then with great apologies re-stuck about where it had been planted. Ernie is in the Court of Remembrance, in the oval lawn in front of the mausoleum. A little red churchhouse and the open countryside are beautifully visible from the gravesite. Ernie's signature hewn right into the stone serves instead of a block lettered stamp-job, and the inscription below reads "Nothing In Moderation, We All Loved Him." We still do.
To Ernie's right are two of his daughters, Mia and Kippie.* I was glad to finally find him. I took a second sojourn inspired by Kovacs; to the intersection where he was killed, the crossing of Santa Monica Boulevard and Beverly Glenn. The power pole array at the corner is still there and it was easy to visualize taking a left turn too sharply on a rainsoaked road and spinning right into them, just like legend has it that Ernie did. Ironically, with today's better built cars it would have been a survivable impact.
Into the mausoleum, one must get past Bette Davis, standing sentinel like a pit bull. "It's going to be a bumpy night."
Inside, one might never find Lucille Ball if you expect something huge and ornate with "BALL" emblazoned upon it. She's in an urn, in a shoebox sized tomb labled "Morton" which is owned by her last husband, comic Gary Morton. Behind a bouquet of (again, purple) blossoms bigger than the grave they marked... there's Lucy.
Across this tiny sunlit chamber, Charles Laughton and George Raft keep Freddie Prinze company.
Driving on toward that little red church mentioned above, one comes to a huge court – the military section – resided over by a giant statue of George Washington, along with other brooding gods of warriors past.
Behind George, against the wall – is Stan Laurel. Sharing the plot with his wife Ida. His plaque says it all. "Master of Comedy." That's the league above any mere "King of – ". Even Chaplin revered him. Stan Laurel forgot more about the art of laugh-getting than most comedians ever know.
Like Lucy, Stan was cremated, so the marker is really just symbolic. Ida's body rests at the marker's foot.
Another good Brit rests near Washington, in front, to his right. Marty Feldman. "Damn your eyes!" "Too late."
But wait, look closer at Washington. He's pointing to something. What could it be? What could our country's father not want me to miss?
I followed his silent command, out to the front lawn of the military court. I kept checking to make sure I was lined up with his stern direction...
There, beyond the small stone wall of the court is... Buster Keaton.
This was the most emotional find in the park. I was taken unexpectedly by my own feelings.
I think (General) Washington pointing RIGHT AT Buster Keaton was what took me over the top.
Below this tiny stone with only a name and a date is a true giant. I stood there several minutes pondering. Someone had placed pennies over the loops of the sixes, as if they were eyes. A "General" golf ball rested on the stone with the word "the" scribbled on it. I actually started misting up at this small, unremarkable headstone – the inconspicuous resting place of the most remarkable man in the entire cemetery. Keep pointing, Mr. President. I got it.
On one afternoon in Hollywood, around 2001, I bought a bottle of all-purpose cleaner and a metal brush. I returned to Buster's grave and polished it up. The bronze caught the sun like it had when brand new. The Sons Of The Desert, the international Laurel & Hardy fan club, had left a pot of daisies for him, for Veteran's Day. I wondered why daisies? I went to get my camera to take a second shot of the tombstone now bright and polished, but my battery was low, and I had to get on the road. Perhaps I'll be back before too long, and take care of unfinished business.
*Since I wrote this article some years ago, Ernie's wife, actress-singer-ingenue Edie Adams has passed on, and joined the family at Forest Lawn.
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This article is also located at my blog "Laughter Wax." (Click the article title.)
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