Trivia: The son a well-to-do British Army captain who died in the battle of Gallipoli in 1915, David Niven was shipped off to a succession of boarding schools by his stepfather, who didn't care much for the boy. Young Niven hated the experience and was a poor student, but his late father's reputation helped him get admitted to the Royal Military College at Sandhurst, and he was later commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Highland Light Infantry. Rakishly handsome and naturally charming, Lt. Niven met a number of high society members while stationed in Malta, and, through their auspices, made several important contacts while attending parties. Although he later claimed to have been nothing more than a wastrel-like "professional guest" at this stage of his life, Niven was actually excellent company, a superb raconteur, and a loyal friend, and he paid back his social obligations by giving lavish parties of his own once he become famous. Niven also insisted that he fell into acting without any prior interest, although he had done amateur theatricals in college.Following his military discharge, Niven wandered the world working odd jobs ranging from a lumberjack to a gunnery instructor for Cuban revolutionaries to (by his own account) a petty thief. He became a Hollywood extra in 1935, and eventually came to the attention of producer Samuel Goldwyn, who had been building up a stable of attractive young contract players. Having made his speaking debut in Without Regret (1935), Niven quickly learned how to successfully get through a movie scene. After several secondary roles for Goldwyn, he was loaned out for a lead role in the 20th Century Fox feature Thank You, Jeeves (1936). The actor formed lasting friendships with several members of Hollywood's British community -- notably Errol Flynn, with whom he briefly lived -- and was quite popular with the American-born contingent as well, especially the ladies.Although he worked steadily in the '30s, it was usually in support of bigger stars; he was seldom permitted to carry a film by himself, except for such modest productions as Dinner at the Ritz (1937) and Raffles (1939). Anxious to do something more substantial than act during World War II, Niven re-entered the British service as a Lieutenant Colonel, where he served nobly, if not spectacularly. (His batman, or valet, during the war was a Pvt. Peter Ustinov, himself an actor of no mean talent.) Married by the end of the war, Niven went back to films but found that he still wasn't getting any important roles; despite ten years experience, he was considered too "lightweight" to be a major name. His life momentarily shattered by the accidental death of his wife in 1946, Niven's spirit was restored by his second marriage to Swedish model Hjordis Tersmeden, his wife of 37 years until the actor's death. Once again, Niven took a self-deprecating attitude towards his domestic life, claiming to be a poor husband and worse father, but despite the time spent away from his family, they cherished his concern and affection for them.After his Goldwyn contract ended in 1949, Niven marked time with inconsequential movies before joining Dick Powell, Charles Boyer, and Ida Lupino to form Four Star, a television production company. Niven was finally able to choose strong dramatic roles for himself, becoming one of TV's first and most prolific stars, although his public still preferred him as a light comedian. The actor's film career also took an upswing in the '50s with starring performances in the controversial The Moon Is Blue (1953) -- a harmless concoction which was denied a Production Code seal because the word "virgin" was bandied about -- and the mammoth Around the World in 80 Days (1956), in which Niven played his most famous role, erudite 19th century globetrotter Phileas Fogg. When Laurence Olivier dropped out of the 1958 film Separate Tables, Niven stepped in to play an elderly, disgraced British military man. Although he was as flippant about the part as usual -- telling an interviewer, "They gave me very good lines and then cut to Deborah Kerr while I was saying them" -- he won an Oscar for this performance. Niven continued his career as a high-priced, A-list actor into the '60s, returning to television in the stylish "caper" series The Rogues in 1964. He revisited his hobby of writing in the early '70s; an earlier novel, Round the Ragged Rocks, didn't sell very well, but gave him pleasure while working on it. But two breezy autobiographies did better: The Moon's a Balloon (1972) and Bring on the Empty Horse (1975). Working alone, without help of a ghostwriter (as opposed to many celebrity authors), Niven was able to entertainingly transfer his charm and wit to the printed page (even if he seldom let the facts impede his storytelling). In 1982, Niven discovered he was suffering from a neurological illness commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease, which would prove fatal within a year. Courageously keeping up a front with his friends and the public, Niven continued making media appearances, although he was obviously deteriorating. While appearing in his last film, Curse of the Pink Panther (1983), the actor's speech became so slurred due to his illness that his lines were later dubbed by impressionist Rich Little. Refusing all artificial life-support systems, Niven died in his Switzerland home later that year. While his career produced a relatively small legacy of worthwhile films, and despite his own public attitude that his life had been something of an elaborate fraud, Niven left behind countless friends and family members who adored him. Indeed, journalists sent out to "dig up dirt" following the actor's death came back amazed (and perhaps secretly pleased) that not one person could find anything bad to say about David Niven.

Trivia: "I happen to be darn lucky that I photograph well in Technicolor," peaches-and-cream complexioned Joan Caulfield readily admitted, having just romped through Paramount's Blue Skies (1946), opposite Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire, and the equally colorful Monsieur Beaucaire (1946), with Bob Hope. One of those sexually non-threatening blondes who decorated postwar Hollywood escapism, Caulfield had been a model for Harry Conover when discovered by Broadway producer George Abbott, who cast her in the lead of Kiss and Tell (1943), a typical piece of Americana that lasted a whopping 480 performances and turned the novice into a hot commodity. She signed a contract with Paramount and went on to decorate a series of rather bland musical extravaganzas (her time-stepping with Astaire in Blue Skies is hardly memorable) and comedies. Warner Bros. borrowed her for The Unsuspected (1947), a pale imitation of Laura (1944) with Caulfield as the girl who returns from the grave, so to speak. But cast against such scene-stealers as Audrey Totter and Constance Bennett -- not to mention an especially hammy Claude Rains -- a star-billed Caulfield found herself thoroughly upstaged.She was much better suited to playing the title role in Dear Ruth (1947), from Norman Krasna's Broadway hit, and offers a restrained performance as the girl whose enterprising kid sister (Mona Freeman) mails her likeness to an Army lieutenant (William Holden) based overseas. The popular comedy spawned two sequels, Dear Wife (1950) and Dear Brat (1951), but Caulfield's role was eliminated in the latter. Cinematically, the 1950s proved anticlimactic and Caulfield mainly appeared in films produced by her husband (from 1950), Frank Ross, but she was a success on the small screen, especially opposite Barry Nelson on My Favorite Husband. Much to her later regret, she left the situation comedy in 1954 when film replaced live performances and it would be Vanessa Brown who went on to receive rerun residuals. Another attempt for sitcom stardom, the self-produced Sally struggled on for a season or so before being canceled in 1958.Like so many of her contemporaries, Caulfield turned up in A.C. Lyles' Westerns in the 1960s, earned fourth billing in the equally retro The Daring Dobermans (1973), and, now a mature character player, decorated such popular television shows as High Chaparral, Baretta, and, inevitably, Murder She Wrote. An unspectacular actress, Joan Caulfield is nevertheless fondly remembered for adding a bit of dignity and Dresden doll beauty to the immediate postwar years, a nice and comforting counterpoint to the often fatal femmes that defined the era.

Trivia: Actress Lenore Lonergan played juvenile roles on-stage and in a few films between the late '30s and early '50s. Her father, grandfather, and brother acted in the theater. Lonergan was six when she first appeared in the play Mother Lode. She made her film debut playing the little sister of Katharine Hepburn in Philadelphia Story (1939).

Trivia: Like the stalwart medieval castles that still dominate the hillsides of his childhood home in southwestern Scotland, James Robertson-Justice was imposing. His cavernous chest, his resonant voice, his full beard, and his stately bearing all suggested the regality of a mighty king. In fact, in the Sword and the Rose in 1953, Robertson-Justice portrayed the most lordly of British kings, Henry VIII, winning critical acclaim. Physically, he was the near mirror image of Henry as depicted in the 1538 portrait by Hans Holbein the Younger. More important, though, Robertson-Justice wore the mantle of Henry's personality, mimicking the king's authoritarian demeanor and legendary appetite for all things worldly. That he was at home in the role of Henry VIII was not surprising. Like the Tudor king,Robertson-Justice loved athletics, dancing, politics, and learning (he held two doctor's degrees: a Ph.D. and a doctorate in law). Moreover, he had mastered the royal sport of falconry, and even taught young Prince Charles the finer points of the ancient pastime. Official biographies say Robertson-Justice was born in the maritime community of Wigtown in the southernmost shire in Scotland. However, the town of Langholm, also in southern Scotland, proudly proclaims that he was actually born there in the Crown Hotel during an emergency stop when his mother was traveling. There is no argument, though, about when he was born: June 15, 1905. His education at Marborough College in England and Bonn University in Germany equipped him with the skills necessary to succeed in a variety of pursuits. Heeding one of Plato's ancient admonitions, he balanced mental activity with physical activity, becoming a netminder for the London Lions in the British Ice Hockey Association. After a skiing injury waylaid him, he refereed matches. Though he had the desire and talent to become an actor, he first pursued a career in Canada as a journalist, then fought in the Spanish Civil War and WWII. In 1944, he made his first film, Fiddlers Three, a fanciful comedy about time travelers in ancient Rome, where Robertson-Justice was a centurion. That stint was the first of many roles in films set in the distant past, including The Black Rose (1950), David and Bathsheba (1951), Captain Horatio Hornblower (1951), Les Misérables (1952), The Story of Robin Hood (1952), Rob Roy (1953), The Sword and the Rose (1953), Land of the Pharaohs (1955), and Moby Dick (1956). However, in spite of his ability to wield swords, wear crowns, and dodge cannonballs, his signature role -- the one that earned him a warm niche in the hearts of Britons everywhere -- was that of Sir Lancelot Spratt, a chief surgeon in the celebrated series of zany Doctor films. The first in the series, Doctor in the House, was Britain's biggest moneymaker in 1954. It was Spratt's job to rule unruly medical students with an appetite for women, money, and fast cars. Remarkably, while making five more Doctor films over the next 16 years, Robertson-Justice had the time and energy to serve as rector of the University of Edinburgh. He died in 1975 at King's Somborne, England.

Trivia: New York City-native Frances Bavier had planned to be a teacher, but her actress friend Kay Johnson convinced her to try her luck in the theatre. Almost immediately upon graduation from the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in 1925, Bavier found herself with a one-line comedy bit especially written for her in the stage farce The Poor Nut. Her biggest break was the original Broadway production of On Borrowed Time, in which the thirtyish Frances portrayed the juvenile lead's grey-haired grandmother. She headed for Hollywood in 1950, appearing in such films as The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) and The Stooge (1952). Bavier also kept busy on TV, showing up on a weekly basis in two sitcoms, It's a Great Life (1956) and The Eve Arden Show (1957). Cast as a whining widow lady in the 1960 pilot for The Andy Griffith Show, Bavier made so indelible an impression that the part of Aunt Bee was created for her virtually on the spot. She remained with The Andy Griffith Show even after Griffith left the series in 1968 and the program's title was changed to Mayberry RFD. Upon her retirement in 1970, Bavier dropped totally out of sight, and it was assumed by her friends and fans that she had passed away. When it was ascertained that Bavier was indeed alive, Andy Griffith tried to entreat her to appear in a 1986 Griffith Show reunion. Frances Bavier flatly refused, making it clear that she wanted no further contact with her former TV costars; she was alone and completely cut off from show business -- and liked it that way.

Trivia: Starting out in musicals and comedies, leather-lunged character actor Henry Jones had developed into a versatile dramatic actor by the 1950s, though he never abandoned his willingness to make people laugh. Jones scored his first cinematic bullseye when he re-created his Broadway role as the malevolent handyman Leroy in the 1956 cinemadaptation of Maxwell Anderson's The Bad Seed (1956). Refusing to be typed, Jones followed this triumph with a brace of quietly comic roles in Frank Tashlin's The Girl Can't Help It (1956) and Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter. He returned to Broadway in 1958, winning the Tony and New York Drama Critics' awards for his performance in Sunrise at Campobello. Since that time, Jones has flourished in films, often making big impressions in the tiniest of roles: the coroner in Vertigo (1958), the bicycle salesman in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), the hotel night clerk in Dick Tracy (1990) and so on. From 1963's Channing onward, Jones has been a regular on several weekly TV series, most notably as Judge Jonathan Dexter in Phyllis (1975-76) and B. Riley Wicker on the nighttime serial Falcon Crest (1985-86). Henry Jones is the father of actress Jocelyn Jones.

Trivia: American actor Jeff York inaugurated his film career in the late '30s at Paramount, under the "nom de stage" of Granville Owen. York spent the postwar years as an MGM contractee, then freelanced into the 1950s. From 1954 to 1958, he was most often to be found in the film and TV projects of the Walt Disney Studios, playing major roles in Davy Crockett and the River Pirates (1956, as keelboatman Mike Fink), Westward Ho, the Wagons! (1956), and The Great Locomotive Chase (1956). His best-remembered assignment under the Disney banner was the role of shiftless Bud Searcy in Old Yeller (1957), a character he reprised in the 1963 sequel Savage Sam. In 1959, Jeff York co-starred with Ray Danton, Roger Moore, and Dorothy Provine in the Warner Bros. TVer The Alaskans.

Trivia: In films from 1919, Dutch vaudeville comic George Davis played one of the featured clowns in Lon Chaney's He Who Gets Slapped (1924) and was also in Buster Keaton's Sherlock, Jr. that same year. In the sound era, Davis specialized in playing waiters but would also turn up as bus drivers, counter men, and circus performers, often assuming a French accent. When told that Davis' business as a hotel porter included carrying Greta Garbo's bags, the soviet envoy opined: "That's no business. That's social injustice." "Depends on the tip," replied Davis. He continued to play often humorous bits well into the '50s, appearing in such television shows as Cisco Kid and Perry Mason. The veteran performer died of cancer at the Motion Picture Country House and Hospital.

Trivia: Character actor, onscreen from 1937.