from November 1968 Inside TV magazine . . .

THE LIES
THEY TELL ABOUT
RAYMOND BURR

LIE #1
The wife who was killed in the famous Leslie Howard plane crash
LIE #2
The young son who died of leukemia
LIE #3
The wife who died of cancer in 1955
LIE #4
His war record in World War II

 If you have ever read a "life story" of Raymond Burr in any magazine, the odds are you have read, and believed, the following stories:

His first wife, Annette Sutherland, an English girl he married just before World War II, was lost on the same plane as Leslie Howard when the Germans shot it down off Portugal in June of 1943. (In essence, this story has appeared in The Saturday Evening Post and Current Biography, among other publications.)

Her death left Burr with an infant son, Michael Evan, whom the boy's grandparents reared in England until Raymond brought him to America after the war. The boy died of leukemia in 1953. (Worded thusly, or slightly differently, this story has been repeated in TV Guide, The Saturday Evening Post and a host of fan magazines.)

His third wife, Laura Andrina Morga, died of cancer in 1955, shortly before they were to depart from Hollywood for a delayed honeymoon in the Bahamas. (Among other magazines, you may have read versions of this story in Look and TV Guide.)

Burr's war experiences: He was "torpedoed in the Atlantic, shot in the gut on Okinawa" (TV Guide); "Burr's weight soared when, wounded on Okinawa, he lay flat on his back for months in a Navy hospital"; "As a former Marine, he once had a splinter of shrapnel in his spine" (McCall's); and "it wasn't until 1946, after service in the Navy, that his career in the movies really began" (The Saturday Evening Post).

There is just one thing about these stories. The first three, told no doubt in good faith by many reporters, are not true. And the fourth item represents some fanciful versions--subject to explanation--of Ray's very real military service in World War II.
To begin with the last:
A few years back, several years after the war had ended, Raymond Burr's mother was visiting him in Hollywood. In a casual conversation with a reporter, she mentioned that, during W.W. II, Ray had been in service in the Coast Guard  ("briefly," she said), but that he had not seen overseas service. If he had also been in the Navy and the Marines, or been wounded, would his mother not have mentioned it? It does seem reasonable to assume so.
 Also, if Ray had been "shot in the gut on Okinawa," which would suggest military service on land, he would logically have been a member of the United States Tenth Army. It was this outfit's divisions, under General Buckner, which suffered such heavy losses on Okinawa. (Many sailors, of course, were casualties on ships there, too, but how many were "shot in the gut"?)
Too, one must take into consideration a timetable. The battle of Okinawa was waged in April, May and June of 1945. If you check the first publicity puff ever written on Raymond Burr, an official RKO studio biography issued in 1946, you will not find one mention of his having just seen service on Okinawa, or indeed of his having been in the service at all. Instead you will find this:
"In January 1944 he opened in The Duke Of Darkness on Broadway. Following a season of stock at the famed Elitch Gardens in Denver he again came to Hollywood and was tested for a role in Sister Kenny. While he did not get the part, he won a contract at RKO."
That is how an RKO publicist covered the years 1944-46 in Ray's life. If Ray had been wounded on Okinawa in 1945, would it not have been included? Those were highly patriotic times and much helpful publicity could have been garnered for a new young actor (who could have used some publicity then) on the basis of a heroic wound received on Okinawa.
Finally, was Ray in the Navy and/or the Marines? Who is to say? Did he receive any of the grievous war wounds a host of writers have said he did? All we know is that his mother said he was "in the Coast Guard." We strongly suspect that is the extent of it, and that publicists finally decided that uneventful service in the Coast Guard wasn't glamorous enough, took it from there and puffed it up out of all proportion to the truth.
We also suspect that Raymond Burr cringes every time he reads some of the untrue stories printed ,about him, and wishes that someone would, just once, set the record straight.
That is what we will attempt to do in this story; that is, just once, for Ray, set the record straight.
We cannot do it with Ray's cooperation because we know for a fact that he detests intimate, personal life publicity. For years now, he has been the biggest enigma in Hollywood because he steers clear of the working press whenever he can. He almost never grants interviews. On the rare occasions when he does he leaves reporters frustrated. Because he never, but never, will discuss his private life, past or present. To any question about it, the answer is always the same: "I'm sorry, I won't talk about that."
He has, though, made a career for the past eleven years of solving mysteries on TV. On Ironside, he's currently an "unofficial" San Francisco police detective trying to track down the man (or woman) who crippled him in an unsuccessful attempt on his life. And, as all TV fans know, before that Ray for years portrayed Perry Mason, famed legal beagle, who always came up with the solution to "whodunit."
Well, Raymond Burr's own life, so far as his millions of fans are concerned, is a mystery, too.
After months of sleuthing, we sincerely believe we have found the answer to the Riddle of Raymond Burr--and the lies (however unintentionally they have been repeated) that other people have told about this talented and popular star.
First off, let's consider Ray's stock answer to reporters who try to delve into his personal life: "I'm sorry, I won't talk about that."
There is good reason behind Ray's unwavering reaction. He is a totally honest man who gives and expects truth in his relations with others. But he feels, we suspect, that in this area he is caught in a trap, backed into a corner from which he does not know an honorable way to escape. If almost everything printed about his most intimate life has been sheer fabrication, the untruths were not of his doing nor were they deliberate on the part of the writers who reported them or the magazines which printed them.
The familiar, heartbreaking, untrue stories about Ray have been repeated and repeated for years. He did not tell them originally, nor has he ever elaborated on them. Possibly, he did not deny them at the outset because he was paying more attention to his work than to the manner of publicity being ground out by others on his behalf. Possibly he felt that if he did not underscore their "importance" by denying them, the stories would just "go away." But they didn't. They multiplied.
Now, Raymond Burr probably feels that if he issued denials, or said anything at all, he would be making fools of others--that is, some of the Hollywood press agents paid to publicize performers. It would be hard to criticize these people too severely, since they were just doing their job. As for the magazine writers who have unwittingly kept alive these ties about Ray, they have merely been rehashing old "facts" from the past. Without direct answers from Ray about his private life, and with pressing deadlines, they have had no choice but to repeat what was already a "matter of record."
Thus the vicious circle was created. Around and around and around. But, as of this moment, the time has come for everyone to get off this particular merry-go-round.
The "legend" of Raymond Burr--or the "fictitious" Burr--seems to have been born at the RKO Studios. (no longer in existence as such) in 1946. Shortly before that, Ray, as a consequence of his Duke Of Darkness Broadway experience, plus radio and stock, had been brought to RKO to test for a role in Rosalind Russell's Sister Kenny film. He didn't get the part. However, his screen test was seen by director Mervyn LeRoy and producer Frank Ross. They were then planning to produce The Robe and felt that Raymond was just right for the leading role. They'd searched high and low for an "unknown" star. (Later, 20th Century-Fox filmed The Robe, with Richard Burton in the lead.)
So Raymond was put under contract, starting at $150 a week. The salary, a pittance, was merely a binder. When shooting began, there was of course to be a big salary hike. So RKO, the producer and the director had big plans for Raymond Burr.
The studio publicity department took over at this point. An "image" had to be created for this new star. So the fictional Raymond Burr came into being--no matter how much the real Raymond Burr protested, and it is a fact that he did--and the factual Raymond Burr was left behind. Far behind . . . Ray's own life had been relatively prosaic until then. Mainly, it had been simply a time of struggle to become an established actor. He was 29 in 1946 and he had spent all of his young adult years trying to perfect his craft. There had been little time for a "colorful" life. Obviously someone decided his life story just didn't have the "schmaltz" and "glamour" befitting the about-to-be-star of the screen version of the most famous novel of the time.
So a few basic facts of Ray's life were woven into a far more exciting tapestry. It was common practice to do this in the more glamorous years of Hollywood--the late '30s and early '40s. Thus Ray's first studio biography was concocted. Like the usual contract actor, he didn't even know what had been written about him until much later. Contract players of small status were obliged to do as they were told, and to leave such matters as publicity to those who supposedly knew far more than they.
Let's take a look at--and take apart--the very first (1946) studio biography ever released on one Raymond Burr:
"Handsome, stalwart Raymond Burr has a formidable background of experience to fit him for a successful screen career. Born at New Westminster, B.C., Canada, on May 21, 1917, he is the son of William Johnston Burr, a merchant, and Minerva Smith Burr, a noted concert pianist."
minor untruths: His father was a hardware store salesman, not a merchant. His mother was never a concert pianist. She, however, did and does play the piano. She earned a living for years, teaching piano and as a church organist. The facts of Ray's birth are correct. Born Raymond William Stacy Burr, he is the eldest of three children. A sister, Geraldine, now a housewife in Fairbanks, Alaska, was born three years after Ray's birth, and a brother, Edmund, one year after that.
Studio biography:
"When Burr was a year old his parents went to China where for five years they lived variously in Cheefee, Shanghai, Peiping and Hong Kong. Burr has traveled around the world five times."
not true: Ray's parents never took him to China as an infant. You have only to ask them to be told that this is not so. Nor had Raymond, as of 1946, been around the world five times. Or even once.
Studio biography:
"At the age of 13 he matriculated at the San Rafael Military School in California with the intention of preparing to enter the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis. His parents lost their fortune, however, and he left school and went to work on a sheep and cattle ranch out of Roswell, New Mexico, where he remained for a year . . . Somehow, during the years which followed, while he worked as a traveling salesman, taught school and was an explorer, he managed to amass six years of college education at, Stanford, the University of California and Columbia University."
the facts: He attended San Rafael He wished to go to Annapolis, since his maternal grandfather had once been in the Navy. But Ray did not leave school and go to work after "his parents lost their fortune." In the first place they were working people; they'd never had a fortune. And, his mother and father separated when Ray was six. Minerva, the mother, then took the children to live in Vallejo, Calif., where her parents had settled. Her father owned a small hotel where Raymond, as a teenager, sometimes worked. Minerva taught music and played organ in Vallejo churches. She continued to work when, later, she moved to Berkeley, Calif. (across the bay from San Francisco), with the children. Raymond Burr's father, at the time of the separation, remained in New Westminster. (Mr. and Mrs. Burr live there together today, having reconciled 14 years ago after 27 years apart.) As for working on a cattle ranch, Ray did, in his midteens, but for one summer, not one year.
It is conceivable that Ray for a time was a traveling salesman. And, off and on, he did teach school--or drama--at the Pasadena Playhouse. (Grander teaching claims are sometimes set forth on his behalf. Recently we saw one manuscript, ok'd for publication by someone claiming to represent Ray's press agents, in which it was asserted that he had taught at Amherst College and Michigan State. If you check with Amherst, as we did, you may get such a telegrammed reply as we did: "No record of Raymond Burr on Amherst College faculty." A checkout at Michigan State elicited this telegram: "Raymond Burr did not teach at Michigan State. He visited campus several years ago as a guest of R-------- W-------- of MSU . . .  Burr is related to W--------'s wife.") Most probably, Ray's teaching was restricted to the Playhouse.
Finally, Ray was never an explorer, and while he may well have "amassed six years of college education," it was first at San Jose State Junior College and later at the University of California, Berkeley.
Studio biography:
"Following a season of stock in Canada he went to England to appear in the stage plays, Night Must Fall and Mandarin . . . He returned to New York in 1941, having spent several years in London. In 1942 he came to Hollywood but a deal to make a picture fell through. Then for a season he joined the Pasadena Community Playhouse as a director. In January 1944 he opened in The Duke Of Darkness on Broadway . . ."
confusions: While attending San Jose State J.C., Ray first became seriously interested in following an actor's life. He began--in his late teens--spending his summers down at the Pasadena Playhouse studying. At 19 or 20, in 1936 or '37, he went East to try his luck. He became actively involved in British War Relief Plays during his several years in the East. After meeting director Anatole Litvak, it is related that he spent a summer in a Toronto stock company, and that he "joined a repertory group setting off to tour England." This much is certainly possible, however difficult to check What seems impossible is that "he returned to New York in 1941." By then England was deep into a war. Is it possible that a wandering civilian actor could have found passage back to the States in 1941? More about this later.
Studio biography:
"He is a widower, his wife, a nonprofessional, having died in a plane crash in England four years ago . . ."
the fictions grow bigger: Remember, this RKO biography is dated 1946. "Four years ago" would have been 1942. The "wife's" name is not given. There is no mention of her having been in the plane crash (which occurred June 1, 1943) in which screen star Leslie Howard was killed. There is also, please note, no mention of their having had a son.
This first "wife" is a myth. She never existed. In many subsequent stories she was given a name--Annette Sutherland--and described as an English girl and given a death "scene"--the Leslie Howard plane crash.
This last fact is so easily proven wrong. Indisputable, records--published in all major newspapers--show there were 13 passengers and a crew of four on the plane which brought Leslie Howard to his death, on a BOAC Lisbon-London flight, off Portugal on June 1, 1943. (Even Winston Churchill in his The Hinge Of Fate memoirs noted that "13 passengers perished." He mentions the incident because he theorized the commercial plane was "ruthlessly shot down" by Germans because they'd been alerted that a man resembling him was on board.)
The passenger list includes just three women: Mrs. Pegge Stonehouse (who was with her husband); Mrs. Rotha Hutcheon (who was accompanied by her two children); and a Mrs. Cecila Paton.
If an "Annette Sutherland" or a "Mrs. Raymond Burr" had been on that plane, she would have been mentioned.
It goes without saying, and anyone who knows Raymond Burr knows this is true, if there had been a wife back then, Ray would never have left her behind alone in England and "returned to New York in 1941." If he had been in England in that year, which is subject to question, he would have found a way either to take her away with him or to stay beside her. As a Canadian, if he had been in England then, and if he'd had a British wife, he could easily have joined England's fighting forces. He didn't, because he wasn't there, and neither was she. Annette Sutherland, Raymond Burr's "English-girl wife" never existed.
Finally, just recently, actress Isabella Ward, to whom Raymond Burr was married (in 1948), was asked about Burr's "first" wife.
She replied: "I was Ray's first wife. If there had been a wife before me he would have told me."
the lie about his "son": Raymond Burr does not have a child. He never has had. Yet many national magazines have printed, believing it to be true, this story: "Annette's death left Burr with an infant son, Michael Evan . . . The boy died at 10 of leukemia in 1953."
If this tragedy-haunted lad had ever existed, would he not have been mentioned in that now-infamous RKO studio biography? If one is to believe this biography, and one shouldn't, "Michael Evan Burr," who "died" in 1953 at 10, would have been born one year after his "mother's" 1942 "death."
Also, by 1953, Raymond Burr was a major character actor on the Hollywood scene. He had long since become famous in such top pictures as A Place In The Sun and Key To The City. If a tragedy such as the death of a son had occurred, it would have been reported on. And it wasn't. Not then. Not until much later--when the story was manufactured and published.
Raymond Burr is as puzzled by this story of a doomed young son as he is by that of an English wife killed in the Leslie Howard plane crash.
How did this story--and the wife's story--ever get started?
Someone intimately connected to Ray for years offers this theory: These fabrications were manufactured by a "friend" who once was, but no longer is, close to Ray for several years and was involved in matters concerned with Ray's career. The person's intent was benevolently designed. It was to create a totally "sympathetic image" for Ray, who was then seen solely as a screen villain in the public's eye. The stories were "planted" without Raymond's knowledge or consent.
No one can recall any acknowledgement from Ray that he's even aware of the story about the "son"--much less deny it. But once he did protest--vehemently--the fictional story of the "first wife." Someone at RKO at the time Ray's first biography was issued recalls the ferocity with which he protested the phony story that he was a "widower." He was told in no uncertain terms that he was an actor, an "unknown" actor, and should stick to acting and let others handle the publicity. That was policy in those long-ago days when movie actors--even stars--were mere puppets, with the strings of their lives--professional and personal--pulled by moguls in the front office.
So, 22 years later, the original "big lie" (with others added) still haunts Raymond Burr.
The last word--the very last word about his "young son who died of leukemia" comes from the woman who once was Raymond Burr's wife, Isabella Ward.
Asked if, after marrying Ray in 1948, she had met Ray's son, she answered: "No, I never met him. Because there was no son. But I don't want to talk about that--it isn't my place to say anything about that."
the real wife: In 1942, at the Pasadena Playhouse, Ray met an aspiring young actress from Delaware, named Isabella Ward. He was one of her instructors. Late in 1947, they met again--by accident. On January 10, 1948, in his sister's home in Bakersfield, Calif., they were married. They lived together for a few months in Hollywood, in the same Vine Street house as Ray's mother and grandparents. Ray, who'd appeared in many small parts, particularly since beginning in 1945 at RKO, was getting steady good roles as a villain. Isabella, after one brief role in an Arlene Dahl film, The Reign Of Terror, left Hollywood--and Ray--for good, near the end of 1948. She divorced him in Baltimore in 1952. She did not remarry. Today she lives in a small Delaware town, her hometown, and works in the alumni office of a local college. Raymond Burr, at this point in Isabella Ward's life is the least of her interests.
another wife?: Another tragic story is told about Raymond Burr--that "his third wife, Laura Andrina Morga, died of cancer in 1955, shortly before they were to leave for the Bahamas on a delayed honeymoon." In some accounts, the name is spelled "Morgan." And in some, in Current Biography, even a marriage date--1950--is given.
First off, Ray could not have married anyone in 1950. He was still married to, though separated from, Isabella Ward. Next, he was a prominent figure by then, and increasingly so in following years, so any wedding of his would have appeared in the papers. And did this one? A large number of people missed it if it did.
Also, if you check Look Magazine, October 10, 1961 issue, you will read that between 1951-55 Ray made seven trips to entertain American troops overseas, and that one trip to Korea lasted six months. Another reference states he was in Korea 7-1/2 months, thereby losing the great villain role played by Ernest Borgnine in From Here To Eternity, a film made in 1952. Ray made those trips, of course, as he has unstintingly made others (11 in all) since. But would he have made them if he'd been a new bridegroom? Would he have stayed in Korea, on one trip, for six or seven months?
None of Raymond Burr's friends, and they are legion, can recall ever meeting a woman, or a "wife," named Laura Andrina Morga (Morgan).
If you check the one hundred or so clips on Ray in the generally dependable Motion Picture Academy Library file, clips dating from 1948 to the present, you will find that there is not a single newspaper or wire service account of the deaths of any first or third wife or son. Nor is there a mention of a marriage to Laura Andrina Morga. You will find a clipping from the Los Angeles Daily News, dated August 22, 1952, announcing Isabella Ward's intent to divorce Burr.
Poring over all the published magazine stories, you will note two very important facts: The collective "big yarns" about Ray begin to appear in print when he begins work on Perry Mason. And, most importantly, in none of them is Ray quoted directly about any of these stories. They are always told about him, as though the information were a matter of record. But they are not a matter of record!
Finally, about the "death" of Laura Andrina Morga, one former professional associate of Raymond's said on the phone: "I worked with Ray through much of 1955. 1 never heard him mention a wife, either one who was ill or one who had recently passed away. And I think he would have mentioned it."
Also, in the August 1958 issue of Coronet Magazine, after Ray had become famous as Perry Mason, in a column edited by Mark Nichols, you may read this: "Burr has been 'unmarried,' as he puts it, for five years."
"Unmarried," if the quote is accurate, and no one has reason to question it, is hardly a word that would be used by a grieving widower. It is the language that a man would use in referring to a divorce. One suspects the reference is to his divorce--in 1952--from Isabella Ward.
Confirmation of this hypothesis would seem to be a quote found in another article on Burr, in the New York Sunday News. Confirmation, though this article was published at least two months before the Coronet piece.
Datelined June 1, 1958, it contains this:
"Raymond Burr insists he's not a bachelor. 'I am an unmarried man as opposed to a single man,' he declares (his first wife died and his second marriage ended in divorce four years ago)."
Again-the puzzling phrase "unmarried man" . . . implying divorce . . . and no mention of any third wife.
Finally, let's consider another development which took place in 1955, the year in which Laura Andrina Morga (or Morgan) is said --by Current Biography, The Saturday Evening Post, Look, etc., etc.--to have died tragically of cancer. Thereby leaving Raymond Burr not only a grieving widower, but a widower who had been visited by stark tragedy three times in little more than a decade. Two wives and one young son struck down, tragically, in their prime.
In the year 1955, when Raymond Burr was 38, he made a movie at Warner Bros., A Cry In The Night, in which he supported Natalie Wood, then 17. They fell rapturously in love. And the resulting romance is widely documented. They tried to keep it quiet, because of the vast difference in their ages and because Natalie was then one of Warners' hottest properties. And the last thing this studio wanted was for her to be linked with an older man--particularly a portly (Ray was heavier then) character star. The studio broke up the romance in short order. In later years, all that any reporter could get out of Raymond on the subject of his love for Natalie Wood was: "Please, we don't talk about that."
If Raymond Burr, a sensitive man, had been grieving for a wife who "died of cancer in 1955," it is highly unlikely that he would have thrown himself so ardently into a love affair with Natalie Wood--in 1955.
It was Raymond Burr's own mother who, a few years back, lamented that people wrote so many "untrue stories" about Ray. Could she have been thinking of Laura Andrina Morga(n) when she said it?
So the "myths" continue to surround Raymond Burr. Those who discovered him, so long ago now, succeeded far better than their expectations in creating in him a "mystery star."
When he was to star in The Robe, Raymond's contract specifically stated that he could not be seen around Hollywood's glamour circuit. No nightclubs. No bars. No entanglements with contract beauties. It was not an easy time for him. Naturally gregarious and a devotee of good food and drink, Raymond began to put on weight--a lot of it. It was not a new problem. He had been plagued by a weight problem all his life. Up the scale (to, it's said, a peak of 329). Down the scale (about 250 these days, but don't forget, he's a big man: 6'1").
In high school his nickname was "Fat." He hated it, of course. In his San Jose State College days, he lost by careful diets and daily workouts in the gym. He was a svelte 190--and had been for years--when signed for The Robe. But the film was postponed again and again. For three years he waited anxiously, asking from time to time to be released from his contract. His request was always refused. Bored, he began to eat. His weight soared. Then, one day, hungry for something else--the bright lights, a good time--he headed up to San Francisco. When he eventually clocked in at the studio again, friends concluded he'd had a great time, because he was an obvious 60 pounds heavier! Studio toppers had already warned him he had to drop 50 pounds--and now this. In no uncertain terms, they informed him he could no longer consider himself the future star of The Robe.
Ray was delighted. He was free at last!
For years afterward, he played a "heavy"--and was one. But Perry Mason was a role he wanted badly enough to die for, or rather, diet for. And he's been on the right side of the law--and the scales--ever since!
Fame brought new problems. Like publicity. As a villain he was of little interest to magazine reporters. But as a star? Well, that was something else again.
Tall tales, to make his life story colorful, began to be told for him--but never by him. They were told and retold. And in time they became a tremendous embarrassment.
As Perry Mason, he did some interviews--at the beginning. Then he began to see fewer reporters. And he drew the line at discussing his private life. "I won't talk about that" became his stock phrase. And he meant it. He wouldn't, he didn't and he doesn't.
Many reporters assumed it was because he still felt the pain of having lost three people dear to him--a wife in a plane crash, a son of leukemia, and another wife of cancer. So, when Raymond said he wouldn't talk about his personal life, they politely refrained from asking about it. And went right on rehashing the old, old stories.
And so, like Topsy, the bugabear of Raymond Burr's life "just grew." There seemed no way to stop its growing.
One day on the Perry Mason set, Ray's mother, who was visiting the studio with the star's dad, complained to someone on the set that she couldn't understand why so many erroneous stories appeared in print about her son. It was explained to her that Ray was very busy, therefore he rarely gave interviews, thus forcing writers to draw on old material--most of which hadn't been correct in the first place.
Mrs. Burr just shook her head sadly.
Ray himself has wanted to set the record straight for years. But how could he? Those who'd told some of the things had ostensibly told them to help him. Would he not be calling them liars by denying their planted stories? Would he not be damaging their future livelihood in Hollywood by taking such action?
As a gentleman, and as a kind man, which he is, all he could do was sit tight. Let the tidal wave of misrepresentations flow on. And neither confirm nor deny.
On the other hand, Raymond dedicated his life to constructive action. Lacking children, he adopted numerous children (two dozen at last count) through the Foster Parents plan. He made numerous "Handshake Tours" to the troops in Korea and Vietnam, not to mention service bases and hospitals in the States. He recorded--still does--3,000 radio shows for Armed Forces Radio. Plus unpublicized charities. Yes, he is a man who has lived his life of success with dignity and honor.
Perhaps one reason Raymond Burr tries so hard to do for others is that his own life is incredibly lonely. He no longer even considers Hollywood home. "Home" to him is now the island he owns in the Fijis, far off the main trade routes, to which he retreats between assignments. True, he has many friends--but perhaps even more loyal acquaintances--and his fans are legion. But his private life is just not that happy. 
Part of the cause may date back to his first Hollywood contract and the "mysterious past" woven for him by others. In some ways, Raymond Burr is a man hounded by these untruths. Those who know him well say that he has long wanted to right them, to restore his life to its true, and truly interesting in its own right, rock base.
As of today, with the publication of this story, Raymond may at last be able to breathe a sigh of relief. --DAN RYAN