YOU could help solve a mystery…

Over the past week or two I’ve been absolutely DEVOURING old Unsolved Mysteries segments on YouTube. I loved the show as a kid/teen, and I miss so much Robert Stack’s authoritative “Voice of God” narration over the reenactments. The program usually sent a cold wave rippling down my spine — the music and the horrible, random acts of violence profiled (not to mention the alien abduction bits) were enough to give me the most chills I’d had since The Incredible Hulk, when, in the very early days of my life, Bill Bixby’s white transformation-eyes would send me racing for the safety of my father’s lap.

I mean, just listen to the throbbing, creepy music that opened the early seasons of UM:

The reason for this post is the following segment, which profiles the somewhat mysterious demise of George Reeves, once the most famous portrayer of Kal-El/Clark Kent/Superman. You know, until a fella by the name of Chris — with a very similar last name — rolled into town and made us all believe that a man could fly, or at least look like he was flying whilst suspended from wires:

I have an embarassing confession to make. When Stack suggests that a woman may have been behind Reeves’ death, and then menacingly posits the question of “But what woman?” at the 1:38 mark, I actually — and I swear to God on this — thought to myself:

Star Sapphire? Maxima? Bizarro-Lois?

This leads me to two conclusions. One, I’m a fucking idiot. On oh so many levels. Two, I need to get out more. I get out a good amount already, but apparently I really, really need to get out more. More more more.

The segment is admittedly a bit glossy when it comes to nitty-gritty details, but there’s plenty of places out there to learn more about the suicide/unsuicide of Reeves, including a (sadly) Ben Affleck-infused Hollywoodland. Here’s a link to the relevant Wikipedia entry to get you rolling on your Reeves-sleuthing if you’re so inclined.

And, for no other reason than the fact (FACT, I say) that Robert Stack was the man, I’ll leave you with this:

Rex Kramer’s abrupt abandonment of his positive reinforcement strategy at 4:05 gets me every single time. Every. Single. Time.