For many a cinema oldster no memory is quite so thrilling as that of two-gun, square-shooting William S. Hart, limned with his painted pony against a two-reel Western sky. One melancholy day last week 67-year-old Bill Hart stood disconsolate by a deep. wide, newly dug grave on his Southern California ranch. A few-neighbors stood with him; Mexican guitars softly slurred La Golondrina. Slowly the ranch hands lowered a gaunt, bay-&-white carcass into the grave, covered it over. It was the end of the trail for 31-year-old pinto pony Fritz, who shared all Actor...
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