“I continued to see Bill whenever I visited Palm Springs, where Betty and Bob Black had also retired. Our old give-and-take survived. “What on earth do you do with yourself down here?” I asked.

“I do my weeds,” he replied.
“For God´s sake, Bill, you don´t know  one weed from another.”
“Well, it beats playing Elvis Presley´s grandfather!” Bill knew when to get out.
“How are you?” I asked, several visits later.
“I´m doing all right for a hundred-year-old man,” Bill quipped. I laughed because  he was only in his seventies then, but the joke wore thin as he passed ninety.

When he died, at ninety-one, I as one of the first people Mousie [Bill´s wife] called. For weeks afterward, friends wrote and telephoned condolences, as if I had lost a husband. Well, our screen partnership lasted thirteen years through fourteen pictures, longer than any of my marriages. To this day, forty years after our last appearance together, people consider us a couple. I never enjoyed working more than with Bill. He as a brilliant actor, a delightful companion, a great friend, and, above all, a true gentleman, with those often attributed but seldom possessed qualities: great style, class, breeding. There´s nobody like him. There´s never going to be anyone like him. I miss him more than I can say.”

 Myrna Loy