BEAR MEDIA

It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon in a small, soundproofed podcast studio in Los Angeles. I was sitting across from a young host who looked like he had…

The room was quiet, the kind of heavy, comfortable silence that only exists between two people who have known each other for fifty years. Loretta sat by the…

I was sitting on a small, slightly uncomfortable wooden stool on a stage in front of about five hundred people at a fan convention. It is always interesting…

The lobby of the old hotel was quiet, the kind of quiet that usually belongs to museums or empty theaters after the final curtain. Loretta Swit sat in…

The sun was beating down on the dry, golden hills of Malibu Creek State Park. It is a place where the wind carries the scent of sage and…

I was sitting on a stage at a fan convention a few years back, looking out at a sea of people wearing olive drab and fishing hats, when…

Loretta Swit sat in the dim light of the studio, her eyes fixed on a grainy clip of a helicopter lifting off into a dusty California sky. Beside…

The heat in the Santa Monica Mountains was often unbearable. The dust would settle into the deep creases of the olive-drab fatigues, making everything feel heavy and permanent….

Wayne Rogers sat on the porch of a quiet beach house, the sound of the Pacific tide pulling at the shore like a slow, rhythmic breath. Across from…