It’s been said that cops have the best stories,
and Bill Cassara’s 30 years in the law enforcement profession unveils yarns gathered from the beginning of his career in 1978 through 2007. Along the way he has met and was befriended by Doris Day, Terry Melcher, Phyllis Coates, and got married at Joan Fontaine’s home.
Bill’s memoirs tell of his growing up in San Jose before she became known as “The Capital of Silicon Valley,” and traces his career steps that led him to the beautiful Monterey Peninsula of California to work for the Sheriff’s Office. Many interactions with Clint Eastwood and other characters that would rival John Steinbeck’s novels are included in this original work. He even played baseball with the legendary Willie Mays!
So fasten your seat belt for a ride-a-long with Sgt. Bill Cassara as he introduces us to his beat and life experiences.
See Bill addressing the public in this clip from 1988!
Co-Authored with Richard S. Greene
You’ve seen him stand shoulder to shoulder with John Wayne as Indian Chief Scar in “The Searchers”, as the insidious Fu Manchu with world domination desires and as Barnaby, the wicked nemesis to Laurel & Hardy in “Babes In Toyland.” What you might not know is the versatile Henry Brandon essayed a variety of characters in film, television and a stage career that spanned 55 years amassing over 200 roles.
Authors Bill Cassara and Richard S. Greene team up to unveil Brandon’s career highlights as one of America’s most despicable villains and best character actors. As the vivid Hollywood story of this master craftsman unfolds, listen for Barnaby’s evil laughter echoing in the background.
"[Bill] has partnered with a fellow member of the Laurel and Hardy society Sons of the Desert to pay proper tribute to Henry Brandon, who menaced Laurel and Hardy in Babes in Toyland and Spanky, Alfalfa and Co. in Our Gang Follies of 1938 [...] The authors have left no stone unturned in chronicling Brandon’s career on stage, film and television in this loving tribute, which weighs in at 515 pages."
- Leonard Martin, Movie Crazy
Ned Comstock, the film archivist at the Doheny Library at the University of Southern California answered the phone. The call was yet another person who wanted to write a book on an old Hollywood movie star. “Who are you writing about?” Ned asked. Without any further introduction, I confidently spoke the name of Edgar Kennedy.
There was a pregnant pause of about three seconds. This was not the rounding up of the usual suspects of controversial celebrities: Clark Gable, Charlie Chaplin, Marilyn Monroe, Jean Harlow, Fatty Arbuckle and their ilk. Ned curiously replied, “…Why Edgar Kennedy?”
Why Edgar Kennedy, indeed. Edgar died at the top of his game back in 1948, but since then, Hollywood has barely bothered reflecting on one of its film pioneers. Biographical information about his long and bumpy road to success has always been scarce and has been generally limited to his films.
Edgar Kennedy appeared in more than 400 films spanning four decades. He was one of the first to be honored (posthumously) with a star enshrining his name on the “Hollywood Walk of Fam.” Known as “The Master of the Slow Burn,” he had many other monikers over the years: “Mr. Average Man, “Kennedy the Cop,” “Uncle Edgar,” “One Punch Kennedy,” and even “The Human Donald Duck.”
An original Keystone Kop, Edgar predated the arrival of Charlie Chaplin and Fatty Arbuckle in the Keystone Comedies for Mack Sennett. He played foil to Laurel and Hardy, the Marx Brothers, W.C. Fields, Eddie Cantor and Harold Lloyd. Edgar also played memorable characters in prestigious Hollywood films, working with Clark Gable, Carole Lombard, Jimmy Stewart, Claudette Colbert, Dick Powell and John Wayne. He saw the rise of Frank Capra, Jean Harlow, Betty Grable, Ginger Rogers, Lucille Ball and Doris Day.
Edgar starred in his own short comedy series for RKO, which spanned seventeen years. These “Average Man” short comedies established films’ first all-talking situation comedy series. They fathered a genre emulated by radio program “families” and later television sitcoms.
A screen clown for most of his career, with some notable exceptions, Edgar also directed many comedies himself. After years of anonymity, he finally hit pay dirt by developing a character that was much put upon by others. He would seemingly simmer in frustration over life’s annoyances, determined not to let it bother him. As the tension would mount, Edgar’s pent-up impatience often boiled over. Unable to hold it in, he might finally ignite in anger, resigning himself to fate by emphatically wiping his face with his left hand. His stock-in-trade grimace and “Slow-Burn” made him one of the movies’ most recognizable faces, until death claimed him at the peak of his career at age fifty-eight.
Now, more than half a century after Edgar Kennedy’s death, the embers of interest in his life have been rekindled. Rare family photographs and stories, provided by Edgar’s only daughter, have been shared with the author. Archival research has revealed never-known details about his childhood, professional boxing career and the evolution of his film legacy.
Edgar Livingston Kennedy never had the opportunity to tell his life memoirs, but with the cooperation of his family, combined with gumshoe efforts, the story can now be shared.
To the casual observer, Vernon Dent was “the guy in the suit,” the Stooges’ bellicose authority figure; he co-starred in more of their films (56) than any other supporting actor. Vernon was to the Stooges what James Finlayson was to Laurel & Hardy: a highly identifiable and confrontational comedy contrast. Standing five-foot-nine and weighing in at 250 pounds, Vernon fit the part of the comic “heavy”—and an angry one at that. You could be assured that the Stooges were “really going to get it” if his name was in the opening credits. When provoked, his disposition could go from genteel to all-out vengeance in three seconds flat. If Edgar Kennedy was “Master of the Slow Burn,” then Vernon Dent was “Master of the Short Fuse.” He’d just as soon clunk the Stooges’ heads together to show them he meant business. The resulting sound effects resonated like a lovely bunch of coconuts—hollow ones, of course.
Although Vernon was being seen daily on TV, nothing contemporary had been written about him. It wasn’t until 1970, when Kalton C. Lahue and Sam Gill wrote a groundbreaking book, Clown Princes and Court Jesters, that Vernon was first given a semblance of the recognition he deserved. Out of the 50 deserving subjects in the book, he was crowned “King of Character Comics.” More amazing to me was that this career profile was limited to the 1920s, long before he ever met Moe, Larry, and Curly.
It wasn’t until 1976 that I learned that this veteran comic had actually been born in San Jose. An article celebrating the man was published in Classic Film Collector (later known as Classic Images). The authors, Ted Okuda and Ed Watz, actually interviewed Vernon’s widow, Eunice, who identified his city of birth. This disclosure was of no small importance to me. Subsequent articles or short bios about Vernon Dent usually made mention of the fact that he was “born in San Jose and attended schools there and in Oakland,” but I wanted to know more. Where did he go to school, for instance? Who were his relatives? What were his show business roots? Just who is this guy anyway? Unfortunately, there were no family scrapbooks to pore over. My curiosity about the subject was placed on hold, indefinitely.
It wasn’t until after a 30-year career in law enforcement that I decided to reopen this “cold case.” Not too many people are still alive who could claim they followed Vernon Dent’s ascending film career. In fact, most people only recognize Vernon Dent because of his association with The Three Stooges. Even though I was delighted to identify him in other Columbia comedy shorts of the sound era, I too worked backwards in years, tracing the impact he made in his 400+ film appearances.
It is clear that behind the scenes, personal tragedy was a common theme in Vernon’s life. Achieving success in show business came slowly, but his optimistic approach helped him weather the lean times, and his endless curiosity about people allowed him to create many interesting characters. These skills held him in good stead in the motion picture industry for 35 years.
This tribute to Vernon Dent, Stooge Heavy, is overdue by more than half a century.
We'll leave the commentary about Ted Healy to his celebrity peers:

















See our photo collage of Ted Healy, set to music!

Hollywood in Monterey

Hollywood in Monterey

Hollywood in Monterey

Hollywood in Monterey

Henry Brandon - King of the Boogeymen

Ted Healy - Nobody's Stooge

Ted Healy - Nobody's Stooge

Ted Healy - Nobody's Stooge

Ted Healy - Nobody's Stooge

Edgar Kennedy - Master of the Slow Burn

Edgar Kennedy - Master of the Slow Burn

Vernon Dent - Stooge Heavy

Vernon Dent - Stooge Heavy