Sean Connery is right ... and I guess Karnak just beat you to it, Landmark. I knew that last one would be a "giveaway" clue.

This is what's left:

In 2004, a poll in the UK Sunday Herald recognized me as "The Greatest Living Scot,” and a 2011 EuroMillions survey named me "Scotland's Greatest Living National Treasure.” I was voted by People magazine as the "Sexiest Man Alive" in 1989, and "Sexiest Man of the Century" in 1999.

Your turn, Karnak!

I was born in NYC (in Manhattan) in 1932.

My mother was a Polish-Jewish garment worker, the daughter of a rabbi. My father was a textile worker from Beirut, the son of a Maronite Catholic priest. (I myself was a devout Catholic.)

I displayed musical talent at a very young age. At age five, my father gave me a vintage wind-up Gramophone and a 78-RPM record of "Beautiful Ohio" by Henry Burr. I would sit for hours listening to that record. At age six, I began teaching myself guitar. By my pre-teen years, I developed a passion for records, specifically those from the 1900s through the 1930s.

By age 11, I began learning to play the violin. I later picked up the mandolin and ukulele – and the latter would become my signature instrument.

A mediocre student, I became a high school dropout. I worked a series of menial jobs before becoming fascinated with the entertainment industry, and in the 1950s began performing at dance club amateur nights under a variety of stage names.

In 1963, I landed my first paying gig at Page 3, a NYC gay and lesbian club in Greenwich Village, playing 6 hours a night and 6 nights a week for $96 per month.

There must have been some serious fireworks when the Jewish rabbi’s child announced a desired union with the child of a Catholic priest!

Anyway, the only singing ukulele player I can think of who performed in Greenwich Village is Tiny Tim.

Tiny Tim it is!

My next clues would have been dead giveaways anyway:

In something of a surprise revelation, it took some time before I discovered that I had a hitherto-unknown higher register that my voice could reach. That falsetto, along with my ukulele, also became part of my signature sound.

Still in my twenties, in order to stand out from the crowd of performers I dressed in wild clothing, wore pasty white facial makeup, and — after seeing an old poster of a long-haired Rudolph Valentino — I grew my own hair out to shoulder length.

After being booked to follow a "midget" act, my manager billed me under a stage name by which I would forever remain known — a diminutive Dickensian literary reference (and an ironic one, insofar as I actually stood over six feet tall).

You’re up again, Arthur!

I was born in Surrey, England, in 1894.

My education began in my father's well-equipped botanical laboratory, where I was taught by my own mother for several years until she became terminally ill.

1911, I contracted an eye disease which left me practically blind for two to three years. This ended my early dreams of becoming a doctor.

During the First World War, I spent much of my time at a manor near Oxford, working as a farm laborer.

I completed my first (unpublished) novel at the age of 17, and began writing seriously in my early twenties, establishing myself as a successful author.

Arthur Conan Doyle?

Good guess, Alan, but it’s not Arthur.

I taught French for a year at Eton College, where I was remembered as being an incompetent schoolmaster unable to keep order in class.

In 1919, I married a Belgian refugee. We lived with our young son in Italy part of the time during the 1920s. My literary works of this period included important novels on the dehumanizing aspects of scientific progress.

During the 1920s, I worked for a time at an advanced chemical plant in northeast England. This experience was an important source for one of my novels.

George Orwell?

No, wait — Aldous Huxley?

Karnak is correct again! Aldous Leonard Huxley, the author of 50 books -- both novels and non-fiction works -- as well as wide-ranging essays, narratives, and poems. He is probably best known for “The Doors of Perception” and “Brave New World.”

There were quite a few remaining clues, some of which are very interesting:

In 1937, I moved to Hollywood with my family and a writer friend. The book I wrote that year contains tracts on war, religion, nationalism and ethics.

My writer friend introduced me to Vedanta philosophy, meditation, and vegetarianism. And in 1938, I befriended Krishnamurti, whose teachings I greatly admired.

Not long afterwards, I wrote a book on widely held spiritual values and ideas, which discussed the teachings of renowned mystics of the world.

During the Second World War, I earned a substantial income as a Hollywood screenwriter. I used much of my income to transport Jewish and left-wing writer and artist refugees from Hitler's Germany to the USA.

A novelist friend put me in touch with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, which hired me as a screen writer for Madame Curie. The film was originally to star Greta Garbo and be directed by George Cukor, but was eventually completed by MGM in 1943 with a different director and cast.

I received screen credit for a number of films, including Pride and Prejudice (1940) and Jane Eyre (1944). I was commissioned by Walt Disney in 1945 to write a script based on Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, but the script was not used.

In 1953, I applied for United States citizenship, but was denied because I refused to bear arms for the U.S. and would not state that my objections were based on religious ideals (the only excuse allowed under the McCarran Act).

Later that same year, I had my first experience with the psychedelic drug mescaline, recounting this experience in a novel which was published in 1954.

In 1960, I presented a series of lectures at MIT entitled, "What a Piece of Work is a Man," which concerned history, language, and art.

On my deathbed, unable to speak owing to advanced laryngeal cancer, I made a written request to my wife for LSD. She obliged with two injections, and I tripped my way out of this world.

I died on November 22, 1963; the same day as C.S. Lewis, who wrote the Chronicles of Narnia series. Unfortunately for both of our legacies, our deaths were overshadowed by the assassination of American President John F. Kennedy.

The Wall Street Journal called my most famous novel a masterpiece, adding: "One of the most prophetic dystopian works.”

Being very interested myself in mysticism, I’d long ago read The Perennial Philosophy as well as The Doors of Perception (whose title, itself inspired by a line from poet William Blake, was also the inspiration for dubbing Jim Morrison’s classic rock band “The Doors”).

By the way, Peacock TV has a British series loosely based on “Brave New World.”

I found it intriguing, although the Rotten Tomatoes critique read: "Brave New World is sleek and seductive, but not very daring, only skimming the surface of Aldous Huxley's dystopian epic without plumbing its philosophical depths."

The Vanity Fair review was more positive: "The new series is a clever modern adaptation, engaging deeply with the source material while dispensing with Huxley's glaringly racist themes and some of the misogyny, too."

Your turn, Karnak.

1. He does a great job at supporting entertainers with music and songs.
2. Him and his wife moved from the east coast of USA to the west coast.
3. He has a low profile when showing his face.

Hey Dynamike, how are you? Thanks for the compliments, but actually we’ve had that mystery personality before! (And besides, having won the last round, it’s Karnak’s turn).

I was born in Toronto, Canada in 1928.

I died in Florida in 2020, at the ripe old age of 92.

In line with the subject matter of this website, I was an accomplished and well-known professional magician.

I took up magic after seeing Harry Blackstone (Senior), and dropped out of high school to perform as a conjurer in a carnival roadshow.

I witnessed many magic tricks being fraudulently presented as genuinely supernatural miracles. One of my earliest reported experiences involved seeing an evangelist using a version of the well-known (among magicians) “one-ahead" principle, employed to convince churchgoers of their preacher’s spiritual connection to the Divine.

As a teenager, I stumbled upon a church where the pastor claimed to read minds. After I re-enacted the trick before the parishioners, the churchman’s wife called the police, and I subsequently spent four hours in jail. This experience deeply influenced the direction of my future career.

In my 20s, I posed as an astrologer, and to make my point I briefly wrote an astrological column by simply shuffling up items from various newspaper astrology columns, and pasting them randomly into my column.