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"Let the cartooooooooooon beginnnn!" Marshall was born in Indiana - and was of African and Indian descent. Wait... I'm going to stop. Enough. See Blacula. I hadn't watched it in a couple of decades - and I've watched it at least 3 times in the last two weeks. It's got everything - in wondrous un-pc glory.
“You
shall pay, black prince!”
We never hear, "Who in the hell would want a dead faggot?" in a movie anymore. Well, not in my world anyway. Or a funeral director saying, "He was white, you know. We don't get many whites in here." It's damn dated and damned funny. A lot of it enforces stereotypes - but so what? Stereotypes exist for a reason. I can deal with the two purse toting giggly gays examining antiques, “ooh you silly lamp queen!” because it's stupid, and it's funny. Now, William Marshall was a Shakespearean blactor... Enough. Back
to Blacula. Complete with ‘fros, bulges, hot pants and a
performance by William was also in an episode of Star Trek, which has earned him a place in (I say this with love) Nerd-dom forever. I found this terrific website with a page devoted to Marshall. There is no way I could come up with better information than the The Museum of Uncut Funk. I bow to them. Mr.
Marshall lived in what seems to be a ranch, in Pacoima -
a luxurious suburb of Los Angeles. His partner of 42 years was Sylvia
Gussin Jerrico and he has 4 children.
Marshall was suffering from diabetes and Alzheimer's, eventually he had to leave his home and be put into more long term care in North Hollywood. Marshall was cremated and his ashes were given
to a loved one. Rest in Peace - Black Prince.
Coolness, someone owns the Blacula tuxedo jacket! Trivia: Wanna see his mailbox? More: Marshall once understudied for Boris Karloff. The irony does not escape me. Thank you Jayne Osborne for the pictures of Castle Blacula. A Doll. I want.
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