
Vivien Leigh
November 5, 1913-July 7, 1967
Gone With the Wind's Scarlett O'Hara.
Winner of two Academy Awards for best actress.
Rest in Peace.
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I was spending the weekend at Chichester to be with David and answered a telephone in his office. It was a journalist politely inquiring for Larry's private number in Brighton. I asked him if I could help and he told me he had just been informed that Vivien had died during the night. personally shattered by the news I said I would ask Sir Laurence to call him. I rang Larry--who, of course, already knew--and commiserated with him. He was terribly upset and railed against the fates for their ill timing. She was starting rehearsals for a new play within a short while to which she was looking forward. He said he was going to London to offer any help to John Merivale, a great friend of Vivien's who shared the flat with her. Early the next morning the bell rang. It was answered by the housekeeper who was confronted by a man who claimed to be a personal friend of Miss Leigh. Believing this, in the circumstances, she let him in. He strolled into the flat, confronted Larry and Jack, admitted he was a journalist from the Daily Express and asked them for an exclusive. Wild with rage, the two men turned on him and asked him to leave. He parried this threat with a plea to Larry for a 'little chat--man to man.' By now completely incensed they took him by the back of his jacket and frog marched him out of the flat. Vivien's funeral took place that week. One of the chief mourners was their life-long friend Cecil Tennant. Driving back from it to his house in the country the steering column suddenly broke causing him to lose control. The car his a tree killing him instantaneously. The double tragedy, on top of Larry's own illness, was almost too much for my own moral courage, but I nerved myself to telephone yet again to offer my sympathies. As customary, when events become too great to take seriously, the reply was disarming. Having heard my condolences he said, "Do you know, my darling, I'm really no longer afraid of dying. I shan't be lonely; all my friends are up there." A facile throwaway to cover his intense emotion
--From Cry God for Larry an intimate memoir of Sir Laurence Olivier written by his former press secretary and friend, Virginia Fairweather
