Loretta sits across from G.W. Bailey, the steam from their coffee rising like the morning mist over the Malibu hills they once called home. The years have been…

The set of MAS*H was a place of high-stakes paradox. To the millions of people watching at home, it was a sanctuary of humor and heart amidst the…

The air in the temperature-controlled archive was thin and smelled of cedar and sterile preservation. Loretta Swit walked slowly past the rows of hanging garments, her heels clicking…

The room was quiet, the kind of heavy silence that only happens between people who have known each other for half a lifetime. They were sitting in a…

The fan at the back of the crowded convention hall leaned into the microphone, her voice trembling slightly with excitement. Jamie, of all the dozens of outfits and…

To the world, he was the embodiment of upper-crust rigidity. He was the man who brought a portable record player to a war zone so he could listen…

I was sitting on a stage at one of those nostalgia conventions a few years back, just soaking in the energy of the crowd. A young man in…

Loretta Swit sat in a quiet room across from Jamie Farr, the afternoon sun catching the silver in their hair. They weren’t in the dust of Malibu anymore….

The hills of Malibu don’t change much, even when the men walking them have grayed at the temples. Jamie Farr stood on a patch of dry, golden grass,…