This Death Will Haunt Me Indefinitely!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                     Let me start by saying suicide is a hard thing for me to write about.  I have lost three friends to it, and new ones always bother me.  The golfer, Grayson Murray, aged 30, withdrew from a tournament on May 25, and allegedly took his life, via carbon dioxide poisoning.  Just like Ross Lockridge, Jr. author of "Raintree County," who did the same on March 6, 1948, aged 33.  Apparently, he was not happy with the reception of the book, which was regarded at the time as a pop sensation, similar to "Gone With The Wind."  Lockridge had higher visions for his work, which did explore Joycean technique, but was not taken seriously enough by academia. Mental illness ran in the family; his cousin was the writer Mary Jane Ward, who wrote a novel, "The Snake Pit," based on her experiences in a mental hospital, in 1946.  If the title sounds similar, some of you movie mavens, darlings, may be more familiar with it, via the 1948 Olivia DeHavilland movie.

                                         Then there was Tyler Clementi, who jumped from the George Washington Bridge, on September 22, 2010.  Any reader on here who goes back to that time can see how fervidly I wrote about him and the incident.  As for Ravi and Wei, while I don't think enough justice was meted out, they do have to live with this the rest of their lives, and maybe that is a kind of punishment.

                                            I am getting closer to my topic.  Remember Jeff Loeffelholz?  On June 29, 2018, he overdosed on drugs, after being verbally brutalized by director Walter Bobbie and Musical Director Leslie Stifelman, for his 20-year spot on performance understudying the role of Mary Sunshine in "Chicago," which he had performed numerous times.  The two officials called Jeff in for a rehearsal, and brutalized him, because they wanted him out of the show.  Maybe they wanted new blood, or they wanted to pay a newbie less money.  Whatever, Loeffelholz went home and took his life, his partner was devastated, and Bobbie and Stifelman became personae non grata in the arts world.  I am embarrassed to say I share a birthday with Walter Bobbie; he is nine years older, having been born on November 18, 1945.  He makes me sick, and if our paths cross, there will be words, believe me.

                                               Now, I come to the death of Thomas H. Gates.  He was 51 years old, and the stage manager of the TONY nominated musical "Illinoise," which I would love to see.  Isn't the picture of him with the little boo boo boo (dog) delightful?  How sad that dog and his husband are now.

                                                Because on Wednesday, May 8, Gates was struck by an ongoing train at the South Orange station.  I know that station well, having attended Seton Hall University in my day.

                                                   I am sure he was enroute for his matinee performance that day.   Everything points to him being struck by a train, but how?  There are only a couple of ways that can happen--unintentionally looking in the wrong direction as the train approaches, though one should be able to hear, and sense the whoosh of the oncoming train.  The other is to accidentally fall on the track, maybe being pushed by someone, when it is too late, or to go onto the track and find something lost, while the train rushes by.

                                                      All of these are plausible.  But the one thing none of the stories about Gates suggested was suicide.  If it wasn't, I wish someone would explain.  Because as far as I am concerned, that is what he did--shades of "Anna Karenina"--but I would not begin to hazard a guess as to why, except to suggest he had to have been in such pain to take that step.  He and his husband were stage managers, both at the top of their game, and Gates was running a TONY nominated show.  He had the world on a string.  But maybe it was not enough.

                                                       I keep hoping some truth will come out.  I do understand spousal and family privacy.  But perhaps Gates' death could be used as a way of sensing signs so that these things could be prevented.

                                                         Rest In Peace, Thomas H. Gates.  If you were in pain, may it be now erased!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!