1947: the height of Hollywood’s Golden Age. It was a simpler time. World War II had ended two years prior with the surrender of Japan and the whole country was wondering what the future would bring.
For actor Eridan Ampora, his wife, actress Feferi Peixes, and another young man by the name of Sollux Captor, the future would bring nothing but scandal, heartache, and death.
Ampora and Peixes, both of whom had starred in such famous pictures as Mariner’s Song and Angel’s Wrath, were truly the quintessential Hollywood couple. Theirs was a fairy tale romance from the beginning. None of their contemporaries could have predicted what was to come.
It was on the set of “Green Sun,” the brainchild of visionary director Doc Scratch, that Ampora and Peixes would meet the young man who would become the catalyst in the destruction of their marriage, and even their lives.
In the following segment we will examine the journal entries of Eridan Ampora as we see the events leading up to the infamous double-murder suicide of two of the most famous actors of the day.
From the Journal of Eridan Ampora:
January 22nd, 1947
There was a time in which I wrote down my thoughts because I worried no one would understand. Thinking about it now, it's hard to believe even for me. It's as if I became a different person, a whole new Eridan Ampora, and not just because of me. Feferi was amused by my dumbfounded expression as I opened the gift package containing this journal, and the Waterman I'm writing with, but I don't mind. Only she, my dearest, my princess, could have thought of such a perfect gift for me, really: even if we don't always see eye to eye, she knows me better than anyone else. It's as if only now I realized how much I missed writing, although the reasons are different. I write because I need to remember, and I don't want to miss one moment of our life together.
In a couple of weeks we'll finally start filming for Scratch's Green Sun. Fef is quite excited about it, and we've been working hard on our parts together. The man is a bit too much in love with his own words if you ask me, but I like working with him. He gets people, and he doesn't try to shove Feferi into silly simpering roles like others do.
Ampora and Peixes in "Angel's Wrath."
April 19th, 1947
There was an incident on the set today. One of the crew hung himself. I can't imagine what sort of civilian horrors could cause a man to take his own life, and I must admit I don't want to know. Fef got really upset and had to go back to her trailer. People are saying this production is cursed, which is ridiculous of course. I wonder if it's Scratch himself spreading the rumor for publicity, I wouldn't put it past him.
April 22nd, 1947
Today nearly went completely wasted. Apparently there was an issue with the power lines and they couldn't connect the lighting without risking a short circuit. I was surprised other than annoyed, because Droog is very professional and usually everything goes smoothly when he's the one taking care of the organization. It was no wonder though, because I noticed a new guy working the lights today and he’s Oriental. Probably a Jap. I was going to have a word with Droog about that, but Feferi blocked me. She said it's not fair to judge people before you know them, and what I'm doing is no better than when people are rude to Karkat. I tried to explain her that it's completely different, because I knew Karkat during the war and I don't care if he's black, I'd put my life on the line for him any day, but I already knew she wouldn't understand, so I dropped it.
I don't expect her to understand. She's sweet and kind to everyone, she's always been like this, and she lives as if all the world were just as sweet and kind, or as if it could become so if she tries hard enough. But there's not much sweet and kind left in the world, besides her, and that's exactly why she's such a precious creature. I don't know where I'd be now were it not for her, and quite frankly, I don't want to know. I get that she's just trying to remind me that the war has been over from a while and I should move on, and she's probably right. But I've seen way too many of those slant-eyed faces back then.
I'm pretty sure this one's an ass anyway, because I caught him staring at me a couple of times. I wouldn't have cared one bit except he was staring at Fef too. She stopped me before I could give him a piece of my mind.
April 30th, 1947
Today we were filming the lifeboat scene, Fef's climactic scene, and she owned it like the goddess she is. She looked just so perfect there, the sun shining on her raven hair, and dear god her eyes, those eyes, bluer than the ocean. She loves the ocean. Sometimes I think she loves it more than me. But then she looked at me and smiled and I felt like a scrawny fourteen-year-old boy once more, falling for her all over again. God I love her. But for some goddamn reason she struck up a conversation with that Jap grip.
May 4th, 1947
I learned his name: Sollux Captor. Doesn’t sound like a Japanese name to me. Fef says he's a third generation immigrant and he came to L.A. because he wants to be an actor. He thinks if he works on the set they’ll let him be an extra. Droog says he's one of the best in the crew.
A rare photograph of Ampora and Peixes on the set of "Green Sun," with Captor in the background.
May 14th, 1947
Today was weird. I went out the back door for a smoke and found that Sollux guy on his break, mumbling to himself. He didn't notice me at first and I realized he was rehearsing a bit of my final scene from Speakers of the Vast Deep. I have to say, he has potential and no accent at all, it's a pity he has a bad lisp. He hurried back inside as soon as he saw me, but I told him to keep at it and I think he heard me because he smiled for a moment.
May 18th, 1947
Sollux's eyes are two different colors: one a dark brown, the other more of a golden hue. It’s not really noticeable until you see him up close. He brought me and Fef coffee even though that’s not his job. He said he did it because he wanted to. I have no idea what is up with this guy but he's much less unpleasant that what I thought, although he had the nerve to wink at Fef when he thought I wasn't looking.
When he handed me the cup, I think his hand lingered on mine. I must be imagining things.
May 21th, 1947
Sol keeps bringing me coffee. He's practicing on Mariner's Song now, and I gave him a couple of tips on controlling the lisp - god knows I remember a thing or two from my own speech therapy. He told me he's the last one of his family, since his sister died during the war. I told him I was sorry, and he smiled - not an actor's smile, definitely, because his front teeth are way too large, but endearing. He's going to have to learn to smile close-mouthed if he wants to become an actor.
May 26th, 1947
[Several unreadable struck-out lines.]
I keep starting this entry and erasing my own words. I don't know what to think, I don't know what to do. I thought I was a different man now, but I was wrong all along. I might be older and wiser, I might be a soldier, an actor and a husband, but deep down I'm still that stupid, frightened boy I had no nostalgia for. I brood instead of talking, I write instead of doing something, I try to vent my thoughts on the paper and even that won't work. I'm too scared even to use the proper words for my fears.
I should be angry. I can see the way he looks at her when they talk, I can see the way she smiles at him. I'm not stupid. I should be angry, but I'm not. I can't. I can't because then she turns that same smile to me and I know I could die for that smile. I can't because of the way he looks at me when we talk.
[More unreadable struck-out lines.]
When I'm with them, I start thinking of things that don't make sense. Nothing about this makes sense. This is just not natural.
May 28th, 1947
I don't know who kissed first. I don't even know how it happened, but he kissed back. I kissed back. I kissed Sol. He's been bringing me coffee every day and today he got really close, saying my tie was crooked and I just - it happened. It makes me shiver just thinking about it now. I've never kissed another man before, although sometimes I suspected I had leanings that way. It wasn't so different from kissing a woman. I don't know what to do, I can't tell anyone, not even Fef, especially Fef. She'd think I'm disgusting, she'd think I don't love her anymore. But I still do. I love her madly, I don't know what would become of me if I lost her.
May 30th, 1947
Last night I told her. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't concentrate on my lines, I couldn't take it anymore. She just stayed silent for a long time, looking dead serious: not upset or disgusted or angry, just serious. Then she told me that the same had happened to her - that she kissed Sol too, and for a moment I thought that this was it. This was where I would finally get angry and snap like a normal person would. She probably thought that too because I could see that wrinkle right between her eyebrows, the way she looks at me when she's letting me vent about something. I wish I didn't know that look so well. Except I didn't get angry at her, or even at Sol, and I still can't. I wanted to say so many things, say that I love her, say that I'm scared, beg of her not to leave me, but I just couldn't form words. I started shaking, and she did something she hadn't done from our honeymoon. She led me upstairs and took a bath with me in the big tub. Soon I was calm, cradling her in my arms. We talked until the water ran cold.
Fef told me we could try to make this work between us - all three of us. I've never heard of anything like this, but I know this is what I want, what we both want, even if I'm afraid to admit it. I'm willing to try.
June 9th, 1947
We had the people from Photoplay Magazine over for an interview. I have no idea how Fef kept a straight face throughout their inane questions, I know it's good for publicity and to promote Green Sun and all, but at some point I just wanted to punch the guy in the nose. The only thing that keeps me going is that we're meeting Sol at this dive down on Sunset later. We wanted to go somewhere we won't be recognized - and somewhere that’d let Sol in.
June 22nd, 1947
I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up. I have a hard time focusing on work and today Scratch even asked me if all was ok with Feferi and me. He suggested that we take a couple days off and I think we're going to take up on the offer.
I'm going to take Fef and Sol to Palm Springs to spend some time on our own. No thoughts, no worries, no one bothering us. I thought of everything.
July 1st, 1947
I love them.
I haven't felt this at peace in a long time. I wish I could stay here forever, just the three of us. This is my place, here, with my arms around her and his chest against my shoulders. I'm not giving up on her, I'm not giving up on him either, no matter what it takes. Nobody's going to take them away from me.
August 18th, 1947
Someone found out.
The photos are up on the Examiner. I didn't even need to buy it because some asshole had the nerve to approach me on the street for a comment, photo in hand, and I didn't punch his lights out just because Fef held me back. Then in the afternoon some son of a bitch threw the newspaper right on our doorstep. I tore it to shreds one page at a time until I couldn't read one word of the fucking idiotic slander of my name, and my wife's, and Sol's. They've already branded us as possible communists. Sol nearly broke his hand punching a wall, he's going on and on about how this is all his fault, and he's such an idiot sometimes, my idiot, our beautiful fucking idiot. Fef hasn't said anything, she's just there with him, cleaning his hand for the stitches, and I know she's seen the words they used for her, how they shamed her as if she owed them something, as if this was even their fucking business in the first place, but she doesn't cry. She never cries. She's always been so much stronger than me, my love, our princess. I have to do something, I need to do something. There's nothing I can do.
Scratch isn't taking my calls.
August 19th, 1947
Somebody tried to set fire to the studios. I went there and I found Droog with the police and firefighters. He says most of the footage is lost and he's worried that he can't find Scratch anywhere. He says Scratch owed a lot of money to certain shady types and I don't really want to know anything more. I had to leave when a couple of curious people noticed me.
August 26th, 1947
I offered Droog to fund Green Sun myself and start with the shooting again, but he declined. He says he's busy with a new project with Slick, but I know exactly what he means when he says he doesn't want to take chances.
September 22nd, 1947
Nobody answers. They make me talk to their secretaries and listen to their bullshit excuses on why they're too busy to talk to me. Those who actually answer never say it like it is. They used to line up just for a talk with me and Feferi, but not now. We were a resource, now we're just dead weight. And who risks for dead weight?
I stopped answering the phone. When it rings, it's either those disgusting tabloids or someone too chicken to even say their name before starting to spew out insults in a muffled voice.
September 30th, 1947
Slick says Fef and I should divorce and make a big public deal about it, and then I should be seen around L.A. with some younger pretty actress like Leijon to dispel any rumors on my deviations, as he called them, that way I might save face and work again, or some other bullshit. I very nearly tore the phone off the wall. What's worse is that I told Fef about it and she had the nerve to agree with the plan, she said it probably was for the best so at least I could work again. It's bullshit, of course, because there's no way she could get out of this in a good shape. Yes, she's been in the Red Cross, she's a great nurse, but no, that's out of the question. She's an actress, and she deserves nothing less. Then Sol joined in, said we only had to do it for the public, we could still see each other.
I know I shouldn't have raised my voice, but it was just too much to hear, too absurd, too patently ridiculous. Yes, we could still see each other, but of course in secret. And then what, wait for a new scandal to come out? No. No, fuck no. Fuck this, I'm tired of this charade, I'm tired of leaving the door open for Sol when it goes dark so he can get in without drawing attention, I'm tired of lying and trying to explain to people what isn't even their fucking business. I'm not going to leave them in any way, they are my family, my home, my everything. I don't know what would become of me if I lost them, and I don't want to know.
I'm going downstairs to apologize now.
October 16th, 1947
Some piece of shit broke a window with a brick and something disgusting scribbled over. Enough now. I'm taking them back to Palm Springs, there is no rest for us here.
November 1st, 1947
I can't sleep. I used to love this place, now I can't rest. Whenever I close my eyes I see the headlines and the photos. We're never going to have a proper portrait like a family should. Cronus is good with photos, he's always been good at it and he knew it and I should've listened when he wanted to teach me but I didn't and now we haven't talked in years and what do I do? Do I call him? Do I tell him to come over hey big brother take a picture of my wife and husband please? then he's going to laugh at me and I don't know how dad is.
Shit my head hurts. Maybe Cro would want to talk but father I don't think so.
[Illegible handwriting.]
I can't sleep. I dreamt of Karkat and he was the hung man, the one they found just before we met Sol. I miss talking to him and I'm scared because he works himself insane and he's too far away and the hung man was talking he had my revolver said now you know what it feels like, now you understand and for a moment I think I did.
Holy shit I'm rambling. I should go back to bed Sol is snoring.
November [unclear number, 26 or 28]
All days feel the same, all the same desperate attempt not to think of L.A. because this is the truth, we're not going back, because there's nothing for us there, nothing to go back to, nothing to hope for, no annoying routine at the studios, no interviews no charities nothing nothing fucking nothing. Fuck I need to do something I need to sleep I need to think my head hurts all the time and Sol caught some fever and I saw Feferi was crying today and she didn't see me and it's all my fault my fault my fucking fault I can't think straight I need to do something I [illegible handwriting]
[Date missing.]
I know what I have to do.
It's not a choice. I don't have a choice, I never had. This is my place, here, between him and her, my family, my home, my everything.
Nobody's going to take them away from me.
The bodies of Ampora, Peixes and Captor were found on December 7th, 1947 by the police, alerted by famed fashion designer Kanaya Maryam who heard shooting from her neighboring property. The three were found in the bedroom, Ampora's revolver still in his hand.