When Ron Rondell's youngest son was killed in a fiery helicopter crash while filming a TV show, the veteran stuntman did what others in the community of stunt performers do when tragedy strikes.
He grieved.
When Ron Rondell's youngest son was killed in a fiery helicopter crash while filming a TV show, the veteran stuntman did what others in the community of stunt performers do when tragedy strikes.
He grieved.
Then he investigated.
And when he was finished, he went back to work.
"The thought never crossed my mind to quit this business," Rondell said. "It's the job I chose. It's the thing I do best."
Rondell, 59, was born to an actor who did his own stunts in silent films, and has been steeped his whole life in the rugged brotherhood of those who stampede horses and crash through windows for the movies.
In the decade since Reid Rondell's death, this close-knit community has been shaken by the loss of other members, most recently stuntwomen Janet Wilder and Sonja Davis.
The deaths focused attention on safety in Hollywood, and left the stunt community wrestling once again with questions about what went wrong.
Theirs is a world of danger, where the specter of death and injury are ever-present and the individual is ultimately responsible for his or her own safety.
They are intensely physical people who can tell you every broken pelvis, cracked knee or concussion they've suffered on any set doubling for any star.
The bonds between them are strong, and the core of the business is dominated by a handful of family dynasties. It is a world that is difficult for outsiders to penetrate, but once inside the rewards are many.
Top stunt performers can earn as much as $350,000 a year doing what many have done since childhood--racing motorcycles, surfing, swimming and diving. Many are high school and college athletes and some are Olympic caliber.
Most say there is a unique challenge--not merely in the jumps and falls themselves, but in figuring out how to survive them. The rush, performers say, is in outwitting the danger--carefully planning safe ways to crash cars at high speed, dangle from helicopters or set oneself on fire.
"It's living out your wildest fantasy," said Rondell's surviving son, R.A. Rondell, himself a stunt man and coordinator.
"How would you like to drive as fast as you can through downtown Los Angeles with the cops actually waving you on?" R.A. Rondell said. "You crash the car and it's not your responsibility. You get out and drive 55 mph home on the freeway."