Let me admit with no apology that to me Dracula is Bela Lugosi, and Lugosi is Dracula. There is no separation of the two. Many have donned his nocturnal cloak, and some, like Christopher Lee, have presented most creditable representations of the great undead Count - but can never be Dracula. If not for Technicolor, I could say they are only pale imitations.

I saw Bela Lugosi last on a late afternoon in 1948 or 1949. I was waiting for the light to change at the corner of Santa Monica and Sunset, when a car stopped with Bela in the passenger seat. He looked up and saw me, reached out his hand, as I did, but the light changed. His driver pulled away before we made contact, and although he turned and said something, I never saw him again alive. Years later, at his funeral, the King of the Vampires lay wrapped in his cape. With the passing of Lugosi, I felt as if I was present in a darkened theatre. The lights were out; the play was over. I have never visited his grave. I like to think he might not really be there. The best of Bela Lugosi is in my memory. I keep that alive.