Clifford Butterworth was a mortician in Petaluma, California, in the fifties. He inherited the mortuary from his mother but he had an unusually intense fear of dead bodies, among other things. The result was that every time he had to deal with a dead person, up popped a new personality that helped him deal with the occasion. For one funeral he acted like Judy Garland. The next time he seemed like Boris Karloff. Many of his personalities were like promising actors who never made it. On some days, every few minutes he was a different person, although nobody was around to appreciate this. Butterworth never married. He was engaged once, but his fiancée came to feel she didn’t know him.
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