The afternoon sun was leaning heavy and gold over the hills of Southern California. Jamie Farr sat on a wooden porch chair, squinting against the glare. Across from…

I was doing this podcast recently, and the host asked me an unexpected question about the physical toll of playing Radar O’Reilly for all those years. He wasn’t…

Jamie Farr and Loretta Swit sat in a corner of a quiet room, the kind of space where the noise of the world finally slows down. They weren’t…

I was sitting across from a young podcast host recently, and he asked me something that caught me off guard. He didn’t ask about the series finale or…

Loretta sat across from him, the steam from her tea rising in a slow, elegant curl. The years had been kind to both of them, but the eyes…

The year was 1979, and the 20th Century Fox lot in Los Angeles was shimmering under a heat that felt as heavy as the olive-drab fatigues Gary Burghoff…

The air over the California hills was unusually still that morning. Mike Farrell stood near the edge of the old tarmac, his hands deep in his pockets. Beside…

The fluorescent lights of the convention hall hummed overhead as I adjusted the microphone on the table. It is always a bit surreal sitting there, looking out at…

The room was quiet, the kind of heavy silence that only happens when two people have known each other for forty years. Loretta sat across from him, her…