THE DAY COLONEL KLINK FINALLY LOST HIS STOIC COMPOSURE ON SET
The studio light was a bit too bright, reflecting off the glass of the interviewer’s desk, but Werner Klemperer didn’t seem to mind. He sat there with that…
THE BUNK SLID OPEN ONE LAST TIME AND THE LAUGHTER STOPPED
The air in the old soundstage didn’t smell like Hollywood anymore. It smelled like damp sawdust, cold iron, and the kind of heavy, settled dust that only gathers…
THE BUNK BED SWUNG OPEN ONE LAST TIME AT STALAG 13
The air in the storage warehouse was thick with the scent of cedar and floor wax. It didn’t feel like Hollywood. It felt like a graveyard for things…
THE HATCH WAS MADE OF WOOD, BUT THE MEMORY WAS CONCRETE
The studio lot was quiet, the kind of heavy, expectant silence that only exists in places where thousands of stories have already been told and forgotten. Robert Clary…
THEY HID BENEATH THE DIRT FOR YEARS… BUT THE HOLE WAS REAL
The sun was hanging low over the old Cahuenga backlot, casting long, skeletal shadows across the patch of earth where Stalag 13 used to stand. Richard Dawson stood…
THE DAY SERGEANT SCHULTZ ACTUALLY SAW NOTHING AT THE AIRPORT
The studio lights were a bit warmer than John Banner liked, but he sat there on the talk show couch with that same jolly, belly-shaking grin that had…
THE ACCIDENTAL FEAST OF SERGEANT SCHULTZ
The studio lights were always a bit too hot for a man of John Banner’s stature, especially when he was wrapped in the heavy, wool-lined Greatcoat of Sergeant…
THE DAY SERGEANT SCHULTZ LITERALLY LOST HIS PANTS ON THE SET
The studio lights were low, and the air in the room felt thick with the kind of nostalgic warmth that only follows a long, successful career. John Banner…
THE DAY THE MONOCLE WENT FOR A SWIM IN HOGAN’S COFFEE
The late-night talk show set was bathed in a warm, amber glow, a sharp contrast to the stark black-and-white memories most of the audience held of Werner Klemperer….
THE DAY COLONEL KLINK LOST HIS MONOCLE IN THE SOUP
The microphone sat between us, a sleek silver slab in the middle of a quiet studio. Werner Klemperer leaned back in his chair, the soft light of the…