Wojtowicz (then 27), a Vietnam veteran, former Chase Manhattan teller, and married father of two who was also involved in New York’s gay scene, planned the heist primarily to fund gender-reassignment surgery for his lover, Ernest Aron (later Elizabeth Debbie Eden / Liz Eden). Aron had attempted suicide, and Wojtowicz believed the surgery would help. He recruited two accomplices, Salvatore (“Sal”) Naturile and Robert (“Bobby”) Westenberg. After some failed scouting attempts at other banks (and after watching The Godfather that day for inspiration), they targeted this branch near closing time.

Westenberg lost his nerve and fled. Wojtowicz and Naturile entered, presented a note inspired by The Godfather (“This is an offer you can’t refuse”), and took employees hostage. What was meant to be a quick job turned into a chaotic 14-hour standoff. Police and FBI surrounded the bank; a large crowd of onlookers and media gathered. Wojtowicz negotiated, played to the crowd (throwing money, demanding food and pizza, etc.), and demanded to see Aron (who was brought from a hospital). The vault had limited cash; they seized roughly $38,000 in cash plus traveler’s checks.

The situation ended when the hostages and robbers were taken to Kennedy Airport under the pretense of providing a plane. FBI agents shot and killed Naturile; Wojtowicz surrendered. He was sentenced to 20 years but served about five (released in 1978).

The story became a media sensation and inspired the 1975 film Dog Day Afternoon (directed by Sidney Lumet, with Al Pacino as a character based on Wojtowicz and John Cazale as the Naturile figure). Wojtowicz sold the rights and used some of the money to help fund Eden’s surgery; she had the operation in 1973. Their relationship later ended; Eden died of AIDS-related illness in 1987.

After release, Wojtowicz struggled to find steady work, he even applied unsuccessfully for a security job at the same bank. He leaned into his fame: standing outside the bank signing autographs and posing in the “I Robbed This Bank” shirt, as seen in the 1978 photo. He lived much of the rest of his life in Brooklyn (often with his mother), had further legal troubles, and died in 2006. A 2013 documentary, The Dog, covers his life in more detail.

While in high school he played his Hofner in local bands. “I played with different groups in and around London,” he said, “and we did some real diabolical stuff. I even played bass for a while. Besides playing electric guitar, I’d also get asked to play some acoustic stuff. But, since I didn’t have an acoustic guitar at the time, I used to borrow one from a friend so I could play folk joints.

“I was into playing American music, especially the blues. First, I learned how to fingerpick, just the basic stuff, and then I began developing a clawhammer style. And all during this time I was playing my solidbody without an amp of my own. While I was into many different types of music, and played with many different local groups, I really didn’t have a band to call my own until Dire Straits was formed in 1977.”

Many professional players are asked what advice they’d give to aspiring musicians, and often their responses reflect the ethic of hard work and practice. But Knopfler approaches the question from a different, and some might say unique, angle: “Advice for young players? Well, I think they should learn boogie woogie piano. It’s very rudimentary, and no matter how you do it, you should just get familiar with it. I bad a piano long before I bad a guitar, and the practice I got just playing those three chords in a basic 12-bar blues song was very important. And another thing: Stay responsive to any environment that comes along, and try to reflect what you feel in a wide variety of styles and songs. I just want to be able to play and make people feel good with what I do. When you’re thinking that way, anything can happen. And, usually, what happens is good.”

Todd’s maid Mae Whitehead, found her employer inside her 1934 Lincoln Phaeton convertible. The car was parked inside the garage at Jewel Carmen’s residence, located roughly a block uphill from the Sidewalk Cafe. Todd was still wearing an evening gown, mink wrap, and jewelry. Whitehead later told police that Todd was slumped forward in the seat, her head tilted to one side. She also reported blood around Todd’s nose.

Investigators quickly established that West and Todd had quarreled the night before when she returned late from a party. West had locked the building’s doors, expecting her earlier. Because the garage belonged to West’s residence and the two shared a volatile, complex personal and business relationship, suspicion immediately fell on him, though he maintained his innocence during exhaustive inquiries.

The official coroner’s ruling eventually pointed to carbon monoxide poisoning as an accident or suicide, but the strange circumstances fueled decades of Hollywood lore and rumors of foul play. Decades later, a claim emerged that West allegedly made a deathbed confession of murder, keeping the mystery alive.

Dahl modeled (including as a Rheingold Beer Girl in 1946 and associated with Clairol promotions) and debuted on Broadway in the short-lived musical Mr. Strauss Goes to Boston (1945). This led to another play (Questionable Ladies) and attention from Hollywood talent scouts, including Jack Warner.

After working in local theater and modeling for department stores in Minnesota, she moved to Los Angeles and initially signed a brief contract with Warner Bros. Her screen debut was an uncredited bit in Life with Father (1947). She was quickly elevated to a leading role as the romantic interest in the Technicolor musical My Wild Irish Rose (1947) opposite Dennis Morgan, a hit that highlighted her looks and helped secure an MGM contract.

Supporting/lead roles included the glamorous “other woman” in The Bride Goes Wild (1948, with Van Johnson and June Allyson), the female lead in the Red Skelton comedy A Southern Yankee (1948), Scene of the Crime (1949, again with Johnson), and the more dramatic role of a French conspirator in Anthony Mann’s Reign of Terror (also known as The Black Book, 1949).

In the late 1940s she was establishing herself as a classic Hollywood beauty suited to Technicolor, often in decorative or romantic roles in musicals, comedies, and some dramas/adventures. She also casually dated a young John F. Kennedy around this period. Her peak fame and most remembered work came in the 1950s, but the 1940s marked her breakthrough from Midwestern model/aspiring performer to contracted studio actress.

This was one of the quirky publicity-oriented beauty contests common in Hollywood during the early 1930s. Page was already famous as a popular MGM actress of the late silent era and early talkies (notably Our Dancing Daughters opposite Joan Crawford and the Best Picture winner The Broadway Melody, 1929). She was widely promoted as the “Girl with the Most Beautiful Face in Hollywood” and received up to 20,000 fan letters a month, reportedly second only to Greta Garbo at her peak, along with colorful admirers that included Benito Mussolini.

By late 1932 her MGM contract was winding down (it was not renewed), and she continued briefly in other studios before largely retiring from the screen in the mid-1930s. The forehead contest fits the era’s light, image-focused publicity around stars’ physical features.

She was discovered at age 16 after winning a poster contest (depicting Father Time or related to the Olympics). Her photo appeared in a Los Angeles newspaper and was spotted by Ida Koverman (assistant to MGM’s Louis B. Mayer), leading to a screen test and MGM contract. Her name was changed to Jean Parker. She had aspired to be an illustrator/artist before acting.

Her feature debut was the pre-Code drama Divorce in the Family (1932). She followed with an uncredited bit in Rasputin and the Empress (1932, the only film with all three Barrymores) and minor roles in films like Gabriel Over the White House and The Secret of Madame Blanche (both 1933).

On loan-outs she landed her best-remembered early parts: Lady for a Day (Frank Capra, Columbia) as Louise, the daughter of May Robson’s Apple Annie; Little Women (George Cukor, RKO) as the gentle, tragic Beth March opposite Katharine Hepburn, Joan Bennett, and Frances Dee. These established her as a classic 1930s ingenue. She made multiple films in 1933 alone and gained a reputation for working quickly and well.

At MGM and elsewhere she took leads and supporting roles in a mix of dramas, comedies, and other genres. She made roughly 16 films for MGM between 1932–1935 (often B-picture leads) before freelancing more widely. By the late 1930s she continued in features (including some B-movies) while her image remained that of a soft, appealing ingenue. Publicists called her the “Cinderella Girl.” These photos from the period show her as a classic glamorous Hollywood beauty of the time.

In the 1920s, Shearer transformed from a struggling New York model into the “Queen of MGM,” becoming one of Hollywood’s most powerful, stylish, and influential icons of the silent film era. Through immense determination, strategic career choices, and her marriage to a top studio executive, she defied early rejections to define modern femininity on screen.

Shearer began the decade in poverty after her family lost their wealth in Canada. Moving to New York in 1920, she faced harsh rejections; theater producer Florenz Ziegfeld famously told her she was too short and cross-eyed. Undeterred, she took a series of modeling jobs, even posing as the tire model “Miss Lotta Miles” on giant billboards, and worked as an extra to fund eye exercises to correct her strabismus. Her first minor break came with a fourth-billing role in the B-movie The Stealers (1920).

Her persistence paid off when Hollywood talent scout Irving Thalberg spotted her early work and signed her to a contract with the newly formed Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) studio in 1923. Her career skyrocketed almost immediately. She starred in MGM’s very first official film, He Who Gets Slapped (1924), alongside Lon Chaney. In Lady of the Night (1925), she displayed her incredible versatility by playing a dual role, both a sheltered, conservative wealthy girl and a street-smart, independent woman. She became a definitive face of the “Jazz Age” and a massive box-office draw, known for her sophisticated, elegant style.

In 1927, Shearer married Irving Thalberg, who had risen to become MGM’s legendary head of production. While Thalberg initially preferred that she retire to family life, Shearer fiercely demanded bigger, more complex roles. This marriage solidified her massive influence on the studio lot.

Unlike many silent stars whose careers died with the advent of synchronized sound, Shearer embraced “talkies” with total confidence. Backed by her brother Douglas Shearer, who happened to be MGM’s chief sound engineer, she made her successful talking debut in The Trial of Mary Dugan (1929). By the end of 1929, she filmed The Last of Mrs. Cheyney, setting the stage for her boundary-pushing, Oscar-winning work as a sexually liberated woman in the early 1930s.