Beloved ‘Beverly Hills, 90210’ Star Nicholas Pryor Dies — Shocking Cause of Death Revealed

Nicholas Pryor, a well-known actor recognized for his long career in movies and TV, has passed away at the age of 89. Pryor, famous for playing fatherly roles to young stars, died on October 7 at his home in Wilmington, North Carolina, after a battle with cancer. His wife, Christine Belford, shared the sad news with The Hollywood Reporter.

Pryor’s death has left both Hollywood and his fans mourning. A message shared by The Hollywood Reporter on October 8 stated, “Nicholas Pryor was enormously grateful to have been a working actor for nearly 70 years.” He had a long, successful career and was thankful for all the opportunities he had in the entertainment industry.

Jon Lindstrom, one of Pryor’s co-stars from the TV shows Port Charles and General Hospital, also paid tribute to him on Instagram. He called Pryor an “Actor’s actor,” meaning someone who was highly respected in the acting world. But beyond work, Lindstrom shared that Pryor was a close friend. He wrote, “He was my friend, mentor, and even a father figure, not just on-screen but in real life too.” Lindstrom remembered how funny Pryor was and how much fun they had spending time together, especially over good food and wine. Lindstrom said he would miss him deeply.

Source: Getty Images

Fans reacted strongly to Lindstrom’s tribute. Many expressed their sadness, remembering Pryor’s roles in popular shows like Eight Is Enough and Beverly Hills, 90210. One fan wrote, “I’m so saddened by Nicholas Pryor’s passing. He was an amazing actor.” Others shared their shock at the news and thanked Lindstrom for his heartfelt tribute, saying Pryor’s work would always be remembered.

In addition to Lindstrom, Pryor’s agent, Susan Tolar Walters, also shared her sorrow, calling him “one of the nicest people” she had ever met. Jeff Maxwell, who runs a podcast about the TV show MASH*, where Pryor made a guest appearance, also paid tribute to the actor.

Source: Getty Images

Born on January 28, 1935, in Baltimore, Maryland, Pryor’s full name was Nicholas David Probst. He began his acting career on Broadway before moving into film and TV. Over the course of his career, Pryor acted in more than 170 roles, showing his talent in both comedy and drama.

Pryor was best known for his roles in TV shows like The Secret Storm, Beverly Hills, 90210, All My Children, and Another World. He also appeared as a guest star in well-loved series like The West Wing and NYPD Blue. In a video interview shared on YouTube on October 9, Pryor talked about his time on Beverly Hills, 90210 and how much he enjoyed watching his wife, Christine, guest-star on the show. He said it made him happy to see her having such a good time with the cast and crew.

Source: Getty Images

Pryor wasn’t just a TV actor. He also had memorable roles in movies. He appeared in films like Airplane!, Damien: Omen II, and The Hunger Games: Mockingjay — Part 1. He played the father of Tom Cruise’s character in Risky Business and Robert Downey Jr.’s character in Less Than Zero. His last role was in the 2021 movie Halloween Kills.

Nicholas Pryor is survived by his wife, Christine, his daughter Stacey, and his two grandchildren, Auguste and Avril. They will carry on his memory and the impact he left behind in his nearly 70-year acting career.

Animal Bones Started Appearing on My Doorstep — I Set Up a Security Camera to Find Out What It Meant

When animal bones started appearing on my doorstep, my husband dismissed it as a prank. But as they kept coming, fear crept in. I set up a hidden camera to catch the culprit, and what it revealed was far more chilling than I ever imagined.

At 34, what more could I ask for? I had a loving husband who still looked at me like I was his whole world and two beautiful children who filled our days with laughter and sticky kisses. Life was perfect until we moved into that house. George said it was a steal, but from day one, something felt wrong.

A house surrounded by trees | Source: Unsplash

A house surrounded by trees | Source: Unsplash

The first week in the new house felt like wearing someone else’s shoes. Everything was just slightly off.

Our neighbors kept their distance, barely managing a nod when we waved. Even the kids seemed to hurry past our yard.

The streets felt eerily quiet like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

An empty street | Source: Pexels

An empty street | Source: Pexels

“They’re just not used to new faces,” George said, wrapping his arms around me as we watched another neighbor hurry past without a glance. “Give it time, Mary.”

“I don’t know, George. Something feels different here. Did you see Mrs. Peterson literally run inside when I tried to say hello? And the way Mr. Johnson shields his kids whenever they walk past our house?”

“Honey, you’re overthinking it. We left a tight-knit community. This is just an adjustment period. Remember how long it took us to feel at home in our old place?”

I wanted to believe him, but there was something eerie in the air here that made my skin crawl.

Side view of an anxious woman | Source: Midjourney

Side view of an anxious woman | Source: Midjourney

Our six-year-old daughter Emma refused to sleep in her new room, claiming she heard whispers in the walls. Our four-year-old son Tommy, who usually slept like a rock, kept waking up crying, begging to leave “the scary house.”

Then came that first morning. I stepped out to install our new mailbox, breathing in the crisp morning air, when I saw a neat pile of animal bones right on our doorstep.

They looked freshly cleaned, arranged in a deliberate circular pattern. My hands trembled as I dropped the mailbox with a clang.

A pile of animal bones arranged in a circular pattern on a doorstep | Source: Midjourney

A pile of animal bones arranged in a circular pattern on a doorstep | Source: Midjourney

“George!” I shrieked. “George, come here! Right now!”

He rushed out, still in his pajama pants, almost tripping over the doorframe. “What’s wrong, hon?” His face fell as he saw the bones. “Just neighborhood kids playing pranks. Has to be.”

“Kids? What kind of kids play with bones?” I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold despite the warm morning sun. “This isn’t normal, George. Nothing about this place is normal. First the neighbors, now this?”

A startled woman | Source: Midjourney

A startled woman | Source: Midjourney

“Come on, let’s clean this up before Emma and Tommy see it,” he said, already reaching for the garden shovel. “We got a great deal on this house, Mary. Don’t let some stupid prank ruin it.”

“A great deal? Maybe there’s a reason for that.”

The next morning, more bones appeared. Larger ones this time, arranged in a perfect circle.

I stood at the door, coffee mug shaking in my hands, while George examined them. The morning dew made them glisten ominously in the early light.

A startled woman at the doorway | Source: Midjourney

A startled woman at the doorway | Source: Midjourney

“This isn’t funny anymore,” I said, pacing our kitchen. “We need to do something. What if the kids see these? What if they’re from something dangerous? I found Emma collecting them yesterday… she thinks they’re from a dinosaur!”

George ran his fingers through his hair, a habit when he’s worried. “Okay, okay. Let’s talk to the neighbors. Someone must know something. This has to stop.”

“I told Tommy not to play in the front yard anymore. What kind of mother tells her child that about their own home? I can’t keep them prisoners inside forever, George.”

A worried man | Source: Midjourney

A worried man | Source: Midjourney

“Hey, hey,” he pulled me close, his cologne failing to mask the worry in his voice. “We’ll figure this out. Together. Like we always do, okay?”

We spent the afternoon knocking on doors. Most people barely cracked them open, offering nothing but blank stares and quick head shakes.

One woman slammed the door in our faces when we mentioned our address. The sound echoed down the empty street like a gunshot.

A man ringing a doorbell | Source: Pexels

A man ringing a doorbell | Source: Pexels

Then we met Hilton. He lived two houses down, in a weathered Victorian villa with overgrown bushes and peeling paint. Unlike the others, he opened his door wide and was almost eager to talk.

“Oh, you bought the Miller place?” His eyes grew wide, almost gleaming. “Shouldn’t have done that. That house… it’s not right.”

“What do you mean it’s not right?” I stepped closer, despite George’s warning hand on my arm.

A man staring at someone | Source: Midjourney

A man staring at someone | Source: Midjourney

Hilton leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “There’s something in that house. Something dark. The previous owner… he knew. That’s why he—” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You should leave. While you can. Before it claims you too.”

“Mary, let’s go,” George tugged at my arm. “This guy’s just trying to scare us.”

“The bones will keep coming,” Hilton called after us. “They always do. They’re a warning! Get out of there before it’s too late.”

A terrified woman | Source: Midjourney

A terrified woman | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t sleep that night. George held me close, whispering reassurances, but nothing helped.

Emma had crawled into our bed around midnight, claiming she heard scratching in the walls. Tommy joined us an hour later, sobbing about scary shadows in his closet.

The next morning, we found a pile of bones in our fireplace. They were scattered across the hearth, some still warm to the touch, as if they’d been dropped down recently.

A pile of bones in a fireplace | Source: Midjourney

A pile of bones in a fireplace | Source: Midjourney

“That’s it,” I said, my hands shaking as I made coffee. “We’re putting up cameras. I don’t care what it costs. Someone is doing this, and we’re going to catch them.”

“Already ordered them,” George replied, showing me his phone. “They’ll be here tomorrow. Best rated online, with night vision and motion sensors. Nothing will get past these.”

“What if it’s really something supernatural?” I whispered, glancing at the kids eating breakfast. “What if Hilton’s right? What if there’s something wrong with this house?”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” George said firmly. “But first, we need proof of what’s actually happening. No more speculation, no more fear. We get facts.”

A terrified woman holding her face | Source: Midjourney

A terrified woman holding her face | Source: Midjourney

As we set up the hidden cameras behind the porch plants and on the tree in the backyard that night, George squeezed my hand. “Whatever this is, we’ll face it together. Like we always have.”

“Promise?” I asked, feeling like a scared child.

“Promise. Now let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll have answers.”

The next morning, I woke to more bones on the porch and immediately grabbed my phone. My hands trembled as I opened the security app.

A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Pexels

The footage was clear as day. Hilton, our concerned neighbor, was sneaking up our driveway at 3 a.m. and scattering bones from a cloth bag.

Another clip showed him on our roof, dropping more down the chimney. The timestamp showed 3:47 a.m., his face clearly visible in the infrared light.

“I’m calling the police,” George angrily said, grabbing his phone. “That sick moron’s been terrorizing our family. All his talk about the house being cursed… he was just trying to scare us away!”

A man holding a bag of animal bones | Source: Midjourney

A man holding a bag of animal bones | Source: Midjourney

When the officers arrived and arrested Hilton, his wife broke down in tears.

“He’s obsessed,” she sobbed, seeing the footage on my phone. “The previous owner, Mr. Miller, told him about some treasure before he died. Hilton’s been having dreams about it. He thought if he scared you away—”

“A treasure?” I almost laughed. “He traumatized my family over a treasure? My kids haven’t slept well through the night in weeks!”

“He needs help,” his wife gasped. “He hasn’t been the same since Mr. Miller died. The talk of treasure consumed him.”

A stunned woman seeing a smartphone | Source: Midjourney

A stunned woman seeing a smartphone | Source: Midjourney

After Hilton was arrested, we decided to check the basement ourselves. George led the way with a flashlight, while I followed close behind.

“Stay close to me,” he said, testing each step on the old stairs. “Some of these boards look pretty worn.”

The basement was exactly what you’d expect — dark, musty, and full of cobwebs.

To our surprise, we found a wooden chest under a loose floorboard, just where Hilton had suspected. Inside weren’t gold bars or precious gems, but old copper candlesticks and vintage jewelry, tarnished with age but still beautiful.

Antique items in a wooden chest | Source: Midjourney

Antique items in a wooden chest | Source: Midjourney

“They’re family heirlooms,” the previous owner’s daughter explained when we called her. “Dad was always talking about them, but we thought he was confused in his final days. They belong in a museum. Thank you for finding them.”

That night, George and I sat on our porch swing, watching the stars. Emma and Tommy were finally sleeping peacefully in their rooms, the house quiet except for the gentle creaking of the swing.

“Can you believe all this?” I asked, leaning into his warmth. “A grown man playing ghost with animal bones, all for what? Some old candlesticks and antique jewelry?”

“People do crazy things for money, honey. But hey, at least we know our house isn’t haunted!”

A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

I laughed, finally feeling at home. “No, just visited by a bone-scattering neighbor with treasure fever!”

“Who’s safely behind bars now,” George added, pulling me closer. “And our kids can play in the yard again. That’s what matters.”

As George and I were getting ready for bed, we heard that familiar scratching sound in the walls. But this time, instead of fear, I was curious. Following the noise, we found an orange tabby cat slipping through Emma’s open window, purring contentedly.

“Well, would you look at that!” George chuckled, watching the cat make himself at home on the table.

A tabby cat | Source: Unsplash

A tabby cat | Source: Unsplash

I squeezed George’s hand, remembering all those sleepless nights. “So this is what was keeping our kids up? A neighbor’s cat?”

“Looks like we solved the last mystery of the house!” he said, wrapping an arm around me.

Sometimes I still check our doorstep first thing in the morning, just in case. Old habits die hard, I guess. But now when I look at our house, I don’t see a mistake or a source of fear. I see home, complete with our occasional feline visitor, who’s always more welcome than bone-scattering neighbors.

A rug on a doorstep | Source: Pexels

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