THE MAN WHO SAW ABSOLUTELY NOTHING AT THE GROCERY STORE
The studio lights were always a bit too bright for John Banner, even years after the final curtain had fallen on Stalag 13. He sat there, leaning forward…
THE DAY JOHN BANNER ATE THE ENTIRE BARRACKS PROP BUDGET
The interviewer leans forward, the stage lights reflecting off the polished wood of the small table between them. It is a quiet afternoon in a Los Angeles studio,…
THE DAY THE BARRACKS TURNED INTO A COMEDY CLUB FOR REAL
It is funny how the mind works when you get to be my age. You can forget what you had for breakfast, but you can remember the exact…
THEY BUIILT A TUNNEL TO FREEDOM… BUT THE REAL ESCAPE WAS THE LAUGHTER
The sun was hitting the pavement at Paramount in a way that felt like forty years had never passed. Richard Dawson stood there, shielding his eyes, looking at…
THE MONOCLE IS GONE BUT THE WEIGHT OF THE COFFEE MUG REMAINS
Werner Klemperer stood in the center of the old Paramount backlot, the California sun beating down on a space that used to be a world of snow and…
THE COFFEE POT STILL HUMMED BUT THE CAMP WAS GONE
The old studio lot was a skeleton of its former self, a maze of peeling paint and quiet echoes where the laughter of a hundred crews used to…
WE THOUGHT IT WAS A COMEDY UNTIL THE GRAVEL CRUNCHED
The studio lot was a graveyard of dreams that afternoon in 1991. Richard Dawson adjusted his wool coat, feeling the bite of the California wind. Beside him, Robert…
THE UNIFORM WAS JUST A PROP UNTIL WE TOUCHED THE WOOL
The restaurant was too loud for two men who had spent their lives making noise for a living. Robert Clary sat across from Richard Dawson, the candlelight catching…
THE TUNNEL WAS JUST A SET PIECE… UNTIL THE FOOTSTEPS STARTED
The backlot at Desilu was always a bit of a ghost town after the lights went down, but standing there years later, it felt like a cathedral. Richard…
THE LAUGHTER FADED BUT THE GRAVEL UNDER THEIR BOOTS REMAINED
The photograph was tucked inside a heavy, dust-covered script from 1967, its edges curled and yellowed by decades of California heat. Robert Clary held it with trembling fingers,…