Anderson - David Carradine: the Eye of My Tornado

Published by Transit Publishing Inc.

Copyright 2010 by Marina Anderson

The reproduction or transmission of any part of this publication in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, or storage in a retrieval system, without the prior consent of the publisher, is an infringement of copyright law. In the case of photocopying or other reprographic production of the material, a licence must be obtained from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright) before proceeding.

ISBN: 978-1-926745-99-2

Cover design: Franois Turgeon
Text design and composition: Nassim Bahloul

Cover photo:
Michael Lamont

Back and Flap photos:
Alan Weissman

Transit Publishing Inc.
1996 St-Joseph Boulevard East
Montreal, QC
H2H 1E3

Tel: 514-273-0123
www.transitpublishing.com

Printed and Bound in Canada

Part I
Begin the Beguine
Before 1995

Part II
Heaven and Hell
1996May 2001

Part III
Sex, Lies and...
19952001

Part IV
Dances
May 2001Present

Part V
The Good, The Bad, and...He Did What?!

This book is dedicated in loving memory to my collie, Lulusister to Lassie IX, daughter of Lassie VIII, the love and light of my life, who carried me through the darkest of times. I love you more than the world. More than the universe.

It was a long time ago
And a dream away
When all was exciting
Upon a new day.

Marina Anderson

I was working on the TV show The Cleaner again, filming on the CBS Radford Street lot in Studio City. This time as a nurse. Good. I didnt have to worry about bringing wardrobe. It was nice to be back and to see a familiar crew, and it turned out to be an easy and enjoyable day with a decent call-time of 10 a.m.

I felt a shift in my feelings about having to do background workwhere you are literally in the background behind the actionand stand-in workwhere you stand in for a star while the lighting and camera crew set up for a shot. There was a sort of peace within me about this temporary way of life. I had been doing it only a short time and hopefully it would remain a short time, but it was better than most jobs out there. It allowed me to pay my bills, get health insurance, and accrue another year toward my required retirement minimum with the unions. I also had time to concentrate on other projects for television and film, write childrens books as well as expand my jewelry line. I was aimed at a goal and plowing forward, again, leaving my ego at the door. Still, it was a difficult transition, having to do this to make a buck, because I had guest star, supporting, and star credits. Most of my friends were in the same boat. No auditions, no acting work, no money. So in spite of this overall sense of calm and acceptance, there was still an underlying edginess to the day.

Nightmares tormented me the night before, and although I didnt remember what they were, they left me a bit depressed. Maybe it was because my seventeen-year-old cat, Tai, had been sick and I was still extremely concerned and sleep deprived. Getting up at various hours to aid him broke my sleep patterns and I thought that might have contributed to the undercurrent of melancholy I was feeling. That night I stayed up working on projects, cleaning up, catching up. At 2:00 a.m., I fell into bed in an exhausted heap.

My home landline jolted me out of a sound sleep. I hate to be wakened that early, especially when I have a day off. Hate it! Who in the hell would dare call me at this hour? I looked at the clock by my bed with glazed eyes, barely able to focus and grappled for the phone. By the time I managed to find it, it stopped ringing. Crap! I was furious. Half asleep I waited to hear if someone was leaving a message on the answering machine and there was... nothing. Just as I started to drift off again, my cell phone went off.

Damn! Who in the fucking hell is calling me now? This better be good, I thought as I bolted out of bed and stomped over to grab it!

Hello! Who is this?

Reception is very blippy in my place, and I had to keep moving around the room to hear the voice on the other end. Hello! Who is this, and what do you want?

Marina, its Patricia, the garbled voice said.

Who?

The voice faltered and broke up, but not because of the reception. Its Patrrrrrrrrricia. Davids dead! She started to sob. Hes dead!

I shook my head, trying to wake up fully, making sure this wasnt a nightmare.

What? No way, I thought.

David is dead! she wailed.

My David? Our David? I could feel myself hyperventilating. My mouth started to go numb, and my head got light. To keep myself stable, I grabbed the counter for support. This cant be. This wasnt supposed to happen yet. He had years left.

Yes! Our David! Patricia started to sob again. She was a producer friend of mine and Davidsa constant spiritual light in my life.

My voice went from early morning gravel to high-pitched little girl. Are you sure? I kept asking, Our David? over and over, hoping the response might somehow be different.

I got a call. Theyre three hours earlier. Its on the Internet. She was now on the verge of hysterics.

I tried to get a grip. No, this cant be. Maybe its wrong. Its got to be wrong. You know how things can be wrong. Rumors, especially from out of the country, can get distorted. Im going to check.

Its correct. Its all over the news!

Wh... what happened? The reality of what she was saying started to sink in.

He was filming in Bangkok on location. They found him dead in his hotel room.

My first thought was that the alcohol finally did his liver in.

Patricia cried throughout a brief description of what had happened. I was in the twilight zone. I couldnt believe what I was hearing, but at the same time the scenario didnt surprise me. My gut instinct was telling me something wasnt right. There was something hinky about it all.

Then I thought, Oh, my God. Bobby!

Robert Carradine was Davids younger brother, and I had remained close to him and his family. He was usually an early riser, and I wanted to call Bobby before he heard this on the news. It would be awful if he found out that way.

Patricia, Im going to call Bobby. I have to call Bobby. Ill call you back. OK?

OK.

She was in pieces. I was still in denial, but starting to feel anger mixed with fear. I wasnt going to give in to my emotions until I got confirmation.

My hands shook so much I kept punching up the wrong numbers for Bobbys wife. Finally I heard Edies Swiss-accented Hah-low? on the line.

Edie, its Marina, I said in a gaspy, shaky voice.

Marina, whats wrong?

Listen, this may be a wrong report, and I really hope Im waking you up cause its a mistake, but I just got a call from a mutual friend of mine and Davids, and... My voice cracked and I held back my panic. Its on the news that David, our David, is dead.

A disbelieving Whaa-aat? echoed on the other end. David? Are you sure, Marina?

Yes! I didnt want to tell Bobby directly and shock him if its a mistake, but Im going to go to the computer and check it out. Please do the same. Maybe theyre wrong. I just didnt want you to hear it from the news in case its true.

I could tell Edie was trying to keep from giving in to panic, too.

OK, were going to check it out. Thank you, Marina, she said in a soft, somber tone.

Ill call you back after I get to the computer, I said.

I dashed upstairs, went online, and turned on the TV. Sure enough, it was there. I stared at the screen, frozen in disbelief. I kept thinking,