Buck Rogers actor's cosmic final message

Four months have passed since I first intended to make this post but never got round to writing it. Well, here it is, delayed but still relevant and poignant.

Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was a TV serial that ran from 1979 to 1981.

Its main star was Gil Gerard, who played the role of a cocky astronaut who'd been frozen in suspended animation since the year 1987 until he thawed out and returned to a very changed planet Earth. 

Anyone who grew up watching this science fiction television series, which came during the Star Wars-inspired science fiction renaissance of the late 1970s and early 1980s, will know how delightful the show was in terms of special effects not previously seen on TV, and its mostly playful story lines. 

Gerard was a perfect fit for the lead role, although he had his own reservations about the consistently non-serious side of his character's personality.

Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was a reflection of its time; providing light-hearted escapism that easily slotted into the weekly TV schedule. Fresh-faced Gerard became an instantly recognisable fictitious hero bringing some of the glamour of cinema's blockbuster science fiction genre to the small screen. Indeed, the extended pilot episode was released initially on the big screen, and I recall seeing it first at the cinema.

The aesthetic of Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was pleasing to the eye - from the clean sets to the futuristic uniforms and non-stereotypical robots and computers, which all went a long way to making the show feel fresh.

I remember watching Buck Rogers as a youngster when I'd seek out any science fiction in the vein of Star Wars and the earlier TV show Space:1999. In formative years, while growing up, certain shows and actors feel as though they are part of our lives, and remain so even when the memory of them is far in the past. Often it is only when we hear of the passing of one of the main stars that we stop and reflect on what they meant to our younger selves.

And so it was for me when I heard the news of Gil Gerard's passing a week or so before Christmas last year. 

But I was also cheered to read his final message to his fans, which was posted on his Facebook account by his wife Janet. In it Gerard gave a heartfelt thanks for opportunities he'd had in life, for the people he'd met and for the love he'd given and received. He encouraged others not to waste time on anything that does not thrill them or bring love. And, in his final parting words, in true Buck Rogers style, said he'd one day meet us out somewhere in the cosmos.
It leaves a picture in my mind of the youthful Gerard, invariably as Buck Rogers circa 1979-1981, in space and untouched by the march of time, waiting to continue that connection first felt watching his exploits on TV.

Gil Gerard died on December 16, 2025 from a rare and aggressive cancer. He was 82.

Here is Gil Gerard's Facebook message, posted by his wife Janet the day after he died:

If you are reading this, then Janet has posted it as I asked her to.

My life has been an amazing journey. The opportunities I’ve had, the people I’ve met and the love I have given and received have made my 82 years on the planet deeply satisfying.

My journey has taken me from Arkansas to New York to Los Angeles, and finally, to my home in North Georgia with my amazing wife, Janet, of 18 years. It’s been a great ride, but inevitably one that comes to a close as mine has.

Don’t waste your time on anything that doesn’t thrill you or bring you love. See you out somewhere in the cosmos.

The Waterboys' conceptual take on Hopper

Touring again: Mike Scott, left, leads The Waterboys onstage during the opening night of their 2025 tour.

It promised to be a show with an unusual concept, and so it proved as The Waterboys opened their 2025 tour before a near-capacity audience at Basingstoke's Anvil venue.

Amongst those on stage was Mike Scott, the band's founding and sole ever-present member. It is said that since forming in 1983, The Waterboys have had more personnel than any other group, with the tally of past and present members now hovering north of seventy. The current five-piece unit have been together for a good number of years and it showed in the tightness of their performance. 

A Pagan Place, the titular song of the group's 1984 second album, was their opening gambit as they ignited the evening with a string of back catalogue gems. A powerful rendition of Glastonbury Song soon followed as they hit their stride. Album track How Long Will I Love You - a cover of which was a major hit for Ellie Golding - proved to be another audience pleaser.

As the evening unfolded it became clear the set was divided into three phases. The opening and closing featured career highlights, while the middle section delved into songs from the newly released and somewhat concept album Life, Death and Dennis Hopper. This celebration of the late actor echoes the treatment given to WB Yeats in 2011, when the band paid homage to the Irish poet with an album and tour.

So why now Hopper? Scott explained that the actor's life and career was tightly interwoven with cultural turning points in the second half of the twentieth century - from appearing alongside James Dean in Rebel Without A Cause and Giant, to directing and co-starring in the counter-culture movie Easy Rider. Also, it allowed a dive into a rich tapestry of Americana including Hopper's friendship with pop culture artist Andy Warhol, and his eight-day marriage to Michelle Phillips, of The Mamas & Papas. One of the night's songs was a ballad to Ms Phillips.

The Hopper section of the concert featured contributions from Barney Fletcher, the youthful guest backing singer who appears on the Sun Records-released album and adds strikingly unusual - and somewhat otherworldly - vocals. Also augmenting the core line-up on a few songs was support act Zervas & Pepper. 

Among the Hopper album tracks played were Hopper's On Top (Genius), Golf They Say, Andy (A Guy Like You) and the best of the new crop of tunes I Don't Know How I Made It.

A towering back screen behind the band was occasionally illuminated with video clips and photographs of Hopper, adding to the conceptual mood. One video showed Steve Earle singing Kansas, the album's opening track co-written by Earle and Scott.

Other notable guests on the album include Bruce Springsteen and Fiona Apple. Springsteen's contribution was on the song Ten Years Gone, which was played during the evening - alas, without an appearance by The Boss.

When the Hopper segment ended it was followed by further tunes from The Waterboys' past, with a clear leaning in to the 1985 album This Is The Sea, possibly to mark its 40th anniversary, but maybe also as a tip of the hat to former band member Karl Wallinger who died last year. That album's Scott-Wallinger composition Don't Bang The Drum, along with Medicine Bow, The Whole of the Moon, and The Pan Within were all performed. On the latter, the duelling keyboards of Brother Paul (Brown) and James Hallawell provided one of the evening's memorable moments.

Having already played the band's most famous tune The Whole of the Moon, it was the group's other signature song, Fisherman's Blues, that rounded off the encore to leave the audience happy as they departed.

In Basingstoke, on the opening night of a lengthy tour with many sold out gigs ahead, The Waterboys showed how they are continuing to push frontiers on their musical journey.

End of the evening: The Waterboys react to the cheers of the audience at the Anvil in Basingstoke

Karl Wallenger's masterful musical journey

Outstanding talent: Karl Wallenger on stage with The Waterboys in Leicester on October 11, 1985. This was his penultimate appearance with the group in the UK before he left to form his own band World Party.

Karl Wallenger, a remarkable musician and a standout talent of the past 40 years, has died at 66.

As an early member of The Waterboys he was part of the trio - alongside founder Mike Scott and Anthony Thistlewaite - responsible for the band's epic opus This is The Sea. The 1985 album contained the ageless The Whole of The Moon.

A music paper article that year stirred my interest in the up-coming but relatively little-known group. The writer commented on the possibility that Scott and Wallenger might be the Lennon-McCartney of the 1980s. I bought This is The Sea and the single The Whole of The Moon. 

Despite The Whole of The Moon becoming a radio staple and regarded as one of the defining tracks of the decade, on its initial release it stalled at No.25 in the UK charts. This was possibly due to the group's refusal to mime to the track on Top of The Pops. (The song became a major success when re-released in 1991 after it was used on a TV advert).

In October 1985, I forked out £2.50 to see the group at Leicester Polytechnic. I wasn't disappointed. The energy and musicianship was unquestionable. The venue was jumping and I'd taken along my first SLR camera to capture the scene, holding it aloft - like the crazy photographer in Apocalypse Now - to take ambient-lit shots above the heads of the jostling, swaying audience.

On stage were Scott, Thistlewaite (Leicestershire-born, so a local lad) and Wallenger. They were augmented by fiddle player Steve Wickham who, alongside Scott, became a mainstay of the group for most of the subsequent four decades. Wallenger certainly looked the part wearing coloured Lennon-esque grandad glasses. His backing vocals and keyboard talent were clear; listen to the latter stages of The Whole of The Moon to appreciate the impact his synth bass has on the crescendoing classic.

But even in the excitement of that gig Wallenger seemed distracted in the moment, in a way that the others in the group weren't. Although not known at the time, it was to be his last but one UK appearance with The Waterboys. He departed the group before the tour concluded.

The reason for the split, reportedly, was Wallenger's realisation that his musical ambition would bring him into conflict with the group's leader Scott. So much then for that hint at a Lennon-McCartney styled partnership. But would Scott and Wallenger fade without the input of the other, or would one emerge as the leading talent? 

Initially, I kept my eyes on both, buying Wallenger's first post-Waterboys record, the single Ship of Fools. It was a stunner. He'd formed the group World Party (incidentally, the same name as a song on the album This is The Sea). Ship of Fools was a poppy but poignant lament at the state of the world; a song that rings as true today as it did in the mid-80s.

It became apparent that Wallenger had a striking ability to craft meaningful lyrics and pare them with winningly harmonious pop music; music that leant towards joyfulness. That was the case with the track Put the Message in the Box, a song I defy anyone to listen to and not feel their mood lift.

As things turned out, I tracked the musical output of The Waterboys more closely than World Party. In the wake of losing Wallenger, The Waterboys' musical direction shifted to create the folk-orientated masterpiece albums Fisherman's Blues and Room To Roam. Experimentation with other sounds and genres have kept them sounding fresh to this day.

Meanwhile, Wallenger's musical furrow with World Party brought a string of successful albums and a top 20 single. He also worked with Sinead O'Conner. A cover version of the Wallenger-penned She's The One was taken to number one by Robbie Williams.

In 2001, Wallenger suffered a brain aneurysm. However, he returned to making music and performing five years later.

The collaboration of Wallenger and Scott on two Waterboys albums gave a tantalising glimpse of what might have been had they formed a lasting working partnership. However, their separate paths mean we have two distinct and very rich musical careers to enjoy.

Reacting to the passing of Wallenger, Scott posted the following on X: "Travel well my old friend. You are one of the finest musicians I've ever known."

A Scottish journalist's tales from another time

 

BOOK REVIEW:

A grain of truth: A Scottish journalist remembers by Jack Webster
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I picked up the book A Grain of Truth at a charity shop, not knowing anything about Jack Webster, but having an interest in the story of a local journalist whose career started in the north-east of Scotland and eventually led him to roles at one of the most prestigious national newspapers of the day.

The back cover of this 200-page book states that Jack Webster was one of Scotland's best known journalists. His career began in the later 1940s, and this autobiography was printed in 1981, when he would have been 50.

It's a well-written selection of memories of his childhood and youth in the Buchan area of Aberdeenshire, rich in colourful descriptions and tone to capture a way of life that, even then, was fading as modern ways changed the world.

The breadth of Webster's stories take in the pre-World War II years, the war, and the post-war world. The reader encounters stories that include brushes with such illustrious folk as Bernie Forbes, Charlie Chaplin, Mohammed Ali, and John Paul Getty.

The way Webster recalls these assorted tales is evocative and 'unshowy'. He writes with a journalist's eye to detail and with conciseness. There is room for Webster to ponder life and the march of time, which he does most powerfully in the final chapters, including a touching farewell to his parents.

At a distance of more than 40 years since these recollections were written - and with Webster himself no longer around - it is an interesting snapshot into a past world, with its values, characters and exploits. There are many surprises to be found within its pages.

Webster wrote subsequent books of memoirs, including an autobiography, which I hope to read one day having now had my interest piqued. However this, his first venture as a book writer, is a satisfying entry point to learn about the life and determination of a young journalist from a far-flung corner of rural Scotland, who went on to travel the world and meet some of its most famed personalities.

View all my reviews

Ice Cold in Alex - a classic for the ages

Memorable scene: the four main characters, played by John Mills, Sylvia Syms, Anthony Quayle 

and Harry Andrews, enjoy a drink in Ice Cold in Alex.

Sylvia Syms, the last living star of Ice Cold in Alex, has died.

The 1958 movie is in my top ten films of all time, and has been since I first watched the black and white classic on television sometime in the 1980s. I was a teenager then and, across four decades, I’ve returned to the movie through repeat screenings on TV and DVD viewings.

Set during the Second World War, it is mesmorising from start to finish. The scene with the four main characters at the bar in Alexandria, Egypt, is impossible to forget. It captures the end of an adventure, and a bond between four people who shared a gruelling, testing journey and the sacrifices it entailed - an experience that would be a defining moment in anyone's life.

 
The photograph of the quartet at the bar also embodies standards, morals, dignity and service to oneself and others, displayed at a level and in ways that now seem heartbreakingly distant. When I last watched Ice Cold in Alex I wondered if any of the four in that memorable bar scene was still alive. At the time, Syms was the lone surviving link to the classic.
 
Now they are all gone. However, the beauty of the film they made and the story they told lives on. I highly recommend a viewing of this film. 

A masterpiece of music: Joshua Tree

Masterpiece: Joshua Tree was a career defining album for U2

Across my collection of music, which stretches to a few hundred singles and albums, there is only one item by U2. But it is also a recording that I constantly return to. It is the most satisfyingly complete album of the past 40 years.

Joshua Tree was released in 1987, and I was drawn to it through familiarity of its radio-friendly hit songs, With or Without You, I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For, and Where The Streets Have No Name.

The record became part of my life that year and the next, when it was one of three cassettes I carried in my backpack as I set off for a one-year adventure in Australia (the other two cassettes were Suzanne Vega's Solitude Standing, and Robyn Hitchcock's Fegmania).

And so Joshua Tree burnt a place in my psyche as it was played in heavy rotation on my Sony Walkman.

Now, some 35 years on, it continues to be the post-1985 album I can most enjoyably listen to all the way through. Experiencing it through quality headphones allows the music to best work its lulling magic.

Of its 11 tracks the only one I'm ever tempted to skip is Bullet The Blue Sky, which is weaker than the ten shining gems around it.

This masterpiece album has a continuity of atmosphere, musical prowess and songwriting excellence that elevates it above almost anything else that has come and gone in the past four decades of popular music.

U2 deserve full praise for this career defining peak. There was also an important role for the late Kirsty MacColl, who although uncredited on the album, chose the running order that the songs appear in, sculpting the record's faultless flowing musical path.

Joshua Tree captures a moment in time, a mid/late 1980s mood undimmed by the passage of time.

There is only one U2 appearance in my collection, but through Joshua Tree it is a starring one.

A farewell to the Queen

Aussie walkabout: I was fortunate to be standing with well-wishers who
 presented flowers to the Queen in Perth, West Australia, in April 1988

As the news broke last evening that Queen Elizabeth II had died at 96, I tuned in to the television broadcasts, listening for a few hours to the tributes pouring in and watching the people gathering outside Buckingham Palace and Balmoral Castle.

Then I switched off the TV and went for a walk to clear my head. It was nearing 8pm when I headed out into a twilight world strangely silent and closed. I encountered no traffic nor another soul. In the darkening gloom, grey clouds blanketed the sky and hung like half-lowered veils over the hills. Following a forestry planation track I ventured through the showery nightfall.

Strolling alone with my thoughts, I reflected on what the Queen meant to me and to this country and its people, and to countless millions further afield.

In the firmament of life she created a unique connection for many, a connection that is impossible to adequately explain or describe. She was a steady rock in life - a presence beyond the orb of our own lives, yet also a part of ours. She symbolised a wise relative, albeit one beyond our normal reach. Yet whenever a national crisis occurred or celebration was sparked, she had a way to embody and express this and to reassure.

Until now, the Queen was a constant presence in my life. She had already reigned for 14 years by the time I was born. More than half-a-century has passed since.

I've known her through everyday objects, whether it be her portrait on coins and bank notes or on stamps. Even when living abroad in Australia and Bermuda this was much the same case.

And every year on Christmas Day hearing the Queen's message and knowing that something peaceful and steady would be shared with us all reinforced that special connection.

Magical unicorn: A light-hearted letter I wrote to the Daily News 
in Perth, West Australia ahead of the Queen's visit in April 1988

In this era of modern telecommunications she and her family have been welcomed into our homes, and we have been welcomed into hers, in ways and with a broadness experienced by no other monarch of these isles.

In our lives she have been a steadying presence through thick and thin, happy times and troubled.

I treasure a royal mint coin from the 1977 silver jubilee, one of which was given to each pupil at my junior school. That jubilee, and its memorable street parties, was the first recollection I have of the Queen.

Although we never met, I was twice a spectator in the crowds that greeted her - once in Perth, West Australia in 1988, and again in Bermuda in 2009.

She will be remembered as one of the most extraordinary figures in history, and as monarch who embodied the heart and spirit of this country and her people.

We've laughed and celebrated with her and her family, through the jubilees, weddings, and special events like the London Olympics. I'm especially fond of the playful clip of the Queen alongside Paddington Bear at this year's platinum jubilee. 

And yes, there have been sad times - the death of Princess Diana, and of the Queen's cherished husband Prince Philip, and now her departure.

Last evening as I walked the forestry trail I reflected and processed what she meant to me. 

Your Majesty, Queen Elizabeth ... Lilibet. Thank you for all you have added to life's journey. We shall never forget. Peace.

Below: the video of the Queen with Paddington Bear at this year's platinum jubilee celebration.