When in Disgrace

WHEN IN DISGRACE

by

Budd Boetticher

NEVILLE SANTA BARBARA CALIFORNIA 1989

Copyright ~ 1989 by Budd Boetticher Preface copyright © 1989 by Robert Stack Introduction copyright © 1989 by Barnaby Conrad Foreword copyright © 1989 by Bill Krohn Copyright © 1989 by Neville Publishing Inc. Filmography copyright © by Chris Wicking. Title page illustration by Barnaby Conrad. Arruza Memorial drawing by John Fulton. Photos of Arrul~ provided by Lynn Sherwood. Other photos appear courtesy private collection of Budd Boetticher. Photos of Lucien Ballard provided by Chris Ballard~ Special thanks to Nick Beck, Shaun Doole, Charles Hansen and Robert Dagg for their assistance

NEVILLE PUBLISHING, INC. PO Box 5056 Santa Barbara, California 93150 First trade edition limited to 1000 copies 300 deluxe copies signed by the author also available

PREFACE Robert Stack Budd Boetticher is an Academy Award-nominated screenwriter, gifted director, ex-boxer, bullfighter, superb horseman and raconteur. He is also a Don Quixote who has battled the windmills and windbags of Hollywood to do it his way. He spins his autobiography from the high dranla of Mexican bullrings to the sound stages of Hollywood with ironic humor and a screenwriter's skill. As my director in Bullfighter and the Lady, he took me on some of the wildest adventures of my life. He'll do the same for the reader-

INTRODUCTION Barnaby Conrad Everyone in the world-at least everyone in the cinelnatic, equine and taurine world-seenls to know Budd Boetticher and has a story about hinl. "Do I know Budd?" a faInous writer said the other day. "Hell, I knew hill1 way back when he spelled his naIl1e with one 'd!' He's a guy that attracts incidents like dandruff to blue serge. He has always had an unequaled zest for living. At the risk of sounding like a beer cOlnIl1ercial, I'll state that where there's Budd, there's life." And Iny neighbor, Robert Mitchulll, lllused not long ago: "Life around Budd was always exciting. I rClnelnber once, about twenty years back, he and I are walking down this T'ijuana street and along COllle three of the toughest tequilaed-up yokels you ever saw. Budd happened to be in a feisty lllood and out of the blue says, 'You take the one in the Iniddle and I'll take care of the other two.' I cleared out, slunk away, melted into the background and left hiIll to work it out with all three. I felt sorry for theIn. \\That a character!" Everyone seelns to end up any anecdote about Budd sll1iling "lnd with the phrase, "\\That a character!" And, of course, he is-one of the genuine ones, one of the legendary ones and, alas, one of the last of an endangered species. But the word "character" suggests a less-than-serious person, and Budd, underneath his jaunty, anecdotal, always slniling countenance, is a serious person. He is serious about the 37 feature filnls he has Inadc and the art of filnll11aking to which he has devoted his life. He is serious about bullfighting, and was long before 1110st of the AI11erican public became aware of it. He is serious about his horses and the njoneo he practices so well and so assiduously and so joyfully every day. He is serious about his beautiful wife Mary who shares his love of fine horseflesh and the training of their schooled 1~ejol1eo horses. He is serious about his friendships and fiercely loyal to thenl. He is serious about the mernory of his friend Carlos Arruza and the lllan's enonnous talent. Has anyone else devoted altnost a decade to Inaking a cinelnatic tribute to another hUlnan? Why did he do it? Why did he Ulrn his back on I-Iollywood plus a lucrative European offer to go through the nightIllarish ordeal of Inaking Arrllztl? A student in Mexico once put that question to hilll.

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"I--Ie asked Ine how I could leave everything in the world to film the story of one 1l1an. I had never thought of the answer before. At first I thought it was a 1110ral issue. Then I thought it was a financial thing. Then I thought nlaybe I was fighting I-Iollywood, and doing what I wanted to do artistically with a little-well, in Spanish, the word is categoria-I guess you'd say integrity. And then, in one second, it caine to ll1e. I said to hiln, 'Wouldn't it have been a wonderful thing if the director of The Agony lind the Ecstasy had had Michelangelo instead of Charlton I leston? '" Now he has written the story of that unique experience. It's a remarkable saga, a nlind-boggling picaresque tale. In outline it goes something like this: In 1960 Budd Boetticher, product of a well-to-do Midwest fanlily, amateur bullfighter, highly successful director of fillns starring such popular actors as Randolph Scott, Jan1es Coburn, Richard Boone, Lee Marvin, Joseph Cotten, Rock Hudson, Anthony Quinn, Glenn Ford, et alios-went to Mexico to film a documentary. It was to be about his great friend, Inatador Carlos Arruza, probably Latin AInerica and Spain's greatest hero. Seven years later he returned to Hollywood with the cOlnpleted footage. During that tilne he went through a divorce, a passionate love affair with a top Mexican star, near starvation, a jail sentence, a Kafkaesque stint in :.In insane asylum, an ahnost fatal lung ailnlent, the near-loss of his project, chicanery and treachery at every turn, the death of Inost of his technical crew, and finally, devastatingly, the sudden death of the star and subject, Arruza himself. A lesser 111an would have given up 111any times along the way. But eight 1l10nths after Arruza's death Budd was filtning shots of the star's widow reacting to the 111atador in scenes of hin1 I1lade six years before! The alnazing thing is how Budd caIne through the ordeal seelningly unscathed and with his natural ebullience intact. He has always had a protective sense of hUl11or, can always laugh at hilnself, and it has stood him in good stead. (I-Ie likes to tell the story, for eX31nple, of the hurtful critique of his first filtll: "'rhis filIn wasn't released," snarled the reviewer. "It escaped!") l~his book tells far 1l10re than a recitation of the difficulties of Inaking a film; it is the story of a rnan's will to overCOllle insurnl0untable obstacles to reach a goal with not just one 1l101l1ent of truth but a dozen. I t also gives us glinlpses of an Arruza that aficionados nlight never know about-that wild, taut, unpredictable, charnling contradiction, Mexico's greatest Inatador and Manolete's only rival. I was lucky enough to be in Spain during the two glory years of the Manolete-Arruza historic competition, 1944-1945, and I was frequently asked who I thought was the better matador. I would weasel thusly: "If they were appearing in different plazas on the same day in the saine town, I would declare IVlanolete the greatest in the world-as I hurried off to watch Arruza." I've been seeing bullfights since I was 13 and never have I seen a nlore versatile,

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consistent and cOl1lplete lllatador. I knew Carlos in Spain, drove with hin1 to his fights around the country (l08 corridas in 1945!) and, as an arnateur tm-ero, appeared on the Sal11e prognll11 with hirll in two festivals. Ten years later I worked with hiln on his autobiography, saw hiITI in San Francisco and Mexico ITIany tilnes, dined with hin1 two weeks before his death, and phoned hinl the very 1110rning of the day he was killed. Budd knew hinl before Carlos beC31TIe a superstar, worked with hilll, fought bulls with hinl, and knew hinl far better than lover those years of 11laking Bullfighter and tbe Lady, The MO .rJ;71ijiCCllt Alatfldor, and Al'Tllza. In the pages of this book Budd has captured that Inercurial Ina11-.15 well, that is, as one is able to capture quicksilver through cupped fingers-and, in addition, Budd has given us a picture of a sealny Mexico that the tourists at Sanborn's will-menos 'Inal-never see. He's also given us a portrait of a l11an in tlln110il and crisis-himself. I first nlet Budd in "'ashington, D.C. I was just returning frol11 Spain, separating froIl1 the State Departtnent's Foreign Service, on Iny way to Peru following Manolete and Arruza; and Budd, Alnerica's nurnber one aficionado, was being 1l1UStered out of the Navy, and about to reSUlne his highly successful fillll career. We've been friends and kept up with each other ever since, yet I had no real idea of what went on during those seven tllll1ultuous years in Mexico; I just heard, as 1113ny of us did, rUlllors of "Budd's having a few problelns in Mexico with the Arruza picture." That bit of understatelllcnt ranks with: "Listen, ()edipus, so okay, you 111urdered your father and slept with your 1l1other, but don't go getting a cOITIplex about it." Aficionados of bullfighting, or fiiIns, or just those who love adventure will be grateful that Budd interrupted his daily riding ritual, has cantered out of his dangerous rejolleo arena, and disll10unted long enough to record this unique and valuable saga. And thanks to Maurice Neville for seeing it to this special edition.

Ole, dos O1-ejnJ J' rnbo, dinnns, vueltlls-y brrllcillJ!

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FOREWORD

Bill Krohn For Budd Boetticher, Holly,vood filnl11laking has been just one episode in a life of adventure. "'ben he \vas 18, toughened by his exploits as <1 college athlete, he left his wealthy faluily in Illinois and went to Mexico, where he SUCCUlll bed to the enduring passion of his life: bullfighting. I-Ie stayed long enough to learn the art himself, then went to Hollywood-at the insistence of his prep-school rOOlllmate, I-Ial Roach, Jr.-as a technical advisor on a hullfight picture called Blood lind Sand. \Vhen he left Hollywood in 1960, it was to return to Mexico and the bullring. Even the periods of his lfollywood career are Inarked out by the fihns about bullfighting. After several years spent learning on the job, during which in his own words he "didn't know what he was doing," he lnade BlIlljigbteT find tbe L(/(~)', a fictionalized and very watered-down account of his advenrures in Mexico, which was re-edited before release by an older director vv'ho had spotted his talent and taken hiln under his wing: John Ford. There followed a nUlnbcr of less personal filnls that display the young director's gro\\Ting Inastery of his craft, and frequently sonlething nlore. But it \vas only after his second bullfighting picture, 'rht' Magnificent Matador, which he I11ade to prove that his friend Anthony Quinn could hold the screen in a starring role, that the full Illcasurc of Bocttichcr's talent becanle apparent. The period that followed, which brought hinl to the attention of European critics, consisted 1110Stly of westerns starring Randolph Scott and produced by Scott and Harry Joe Brown. Known to aficio1lados as the "Ranown cycle," these filnls are relnarkable for the unflagging cinen1atic and dralnatic inventiveness with which Boetticher explores the bare essentials of a genre. J-Ie had the help of the great calneralnan, Lucien Ballard, and his favorite writer, Burt Kennedy, on Illilny of thenl (including Buchanan Rides Alone, a frontier Reve11ger's T''J"llgc((y that Boetticher and Kennedy inlprovised during shooting when the credited writer's script proved unsatisfactory), but his only consistent collaborator was Scott, who displays a wonderful range of subtle variations in his characterization frolH one picture to the next. VVhile Boetticher was shooting these fihns on eighteen-day schedules, he W.1S already taking Ballard and slipping off to Mexico during weekends and vacations to fihu sequences for his next bullfighting picrure, a dOCUI1lentary about his close friend and Mexico's greatest living Inatador, Carlos Arruz3, who was then COining out of retirelnent to perform as a rejol1codor, a bullfighter on horseback. Boetticher stayed in Hollywood long enough to do one lTIOre fihn, The Rise find Fnll ~l Legs Diamond, a chilling cOlnedy of death and betrayal set in gangland Chiclgo of the

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Thirties, with black-and-white period photography by Ballard and a hilarious script by Boetticher (uncredited). Then, disgusted by the rampant "unprofessionalism" he had encountered on that production, he and his wife, Debra Paget, got into their white Rolls-Royce and left for Mexico to finish Arruza. In a sense, he has never returned. The incredible, hilarious, heroic twelve-year saga of the making of Arruza is told in Boetticher's own words in the book you are about to read, which was begun in 1960 and finished just a few months ago. In its final form, the Arruza story has assumed its proper place as the most dramatic and longest single episode in a life crammed with events, beginning with the real story of the author's adventures as a gringo bullfighter and including many anecdotes, savory and unsavory, of the Hollywood years-background that makes it easier to understand how a Hollywood director could walk away from everything at the height of his success and vanish for twelve years into the wilds of the Mexican film industry, just to make a movie about bullfighting. People who have never seen a Budd Boetticher film will find it a thrilling story, and longtime fans will understand after reading it that the films that have made Boetticher a cult figure are just parts of a life more spectacular than any film could show, and expressions of one of the most fascinating personalities you could ever hope to meet.

William Shakespeare Twenty-Ninth Sonnet

\\Then, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes I, all alone, beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate ...

WELL, I \VAS SURE AS HELL IN JAIL! FOR A SECOND, RIGHT

after the iron door clanged shut behind Ine, I had closed Illy eyes in the hope that it would all go away. But, it wouldn't, and it couldn't, and it didn't. It W:1sn't a nightnlare. And neither was the pre-(:hristInas cold of Illy solitary cell going to "fade back" into the luxurious warrnth of Iny hotel suite. But worst of all, I wasn't just in jail. I was in jail in MEXICO! Here, Illost certainly, I could beIlloan Illy outcast state, and look upon Inyself and curse Iny fate. I darnned that sonnet as it flashed across Iny brain, not at all proud to have renlelnbered it. Maybe Illy adnliration of Willianl Shakespeare bad gotten I11C into all of this. As II kid, hack in Indiana, I'd certainly never fantasized about becolning a I-Iollywood 1l10rion picture director. I should have stuck with the only Shakespeare I'd ever known, the one who played quarterback for Notre Dalne. The stench of excrelnent frOl11 an open hole in the stone floor forced Ille to gasp for breath. I wished I hadn't. l"he first glance at Iny new toilet assured Inc that nUlnerous other inmates had contributed to its fullness. I wondered when was the last time it had been elllptied or if, expecting nle, they had just filled it with the crap that, to nlany, represented l-Iollywood. And what would Iny two little girls think of their daddy now? I wasn't even going to sl11ell like a saint-if I ever got out of there. I sat down on the floor to think, hut S0l11eOne had spread wct lilne all over it, so I jumped right up. I always did think better on Illy feet. Now, how in the devil did all this 111isforrune descend upon tllC? Was it ]llY personality? Was it because I was colorful? I had a \vhole suitcase full of clippings that always included, "Budd Boetticher, one of I-Iollywood's 1110st colorful directors ... " Their authors never really suggested "distinguished," or "brilliant" or "artistic." Just "colorful." But now there wasn't any color in ll1y frozen body, or in the deathly grayness of Iny icy-daInp concrete walls. I was a new rat in an old trap. That was the honest truth. Period! Actually, the only good thing about this whole I1less was that I knew daIlll1 welll'd have plenty of time to think, to figure how all of this canle about. Should 1 start remembering with the AcadeITIY Award nOlnination, or nly disappointing

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affair with the beautiful actress that didn't quite work out, or my late, lamented divorce, or the football injury that changed Iny life? My life? VV'hat a great life I'd f1lrl'II{~)' had~ And now I was absolutely sure that all of it had sonlething to do with 111y present predicatnent. The true fact was that most of my lnature life started right here in l\1exico C:ity. Maybe it would be best to relneillber all the way back to then.

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"Local Athletic Star Now Fighting Bulls In Mexico" IfF:\DLI~FS SI;\CF .\1Y freshtnan year in hi~h schoo.l, but this one- bl~zoned ;H.TOSS th~ sports , page of the EvansvIlle, IndIana, Sunday COl/rlrr-]ollrlltll-Clrned the words that were destined to dictate Iny future. I ·turned right off Pico Boulevard and drove underneath the gigantic archway that proclailned I was entering Twentieth C:enrury-Fox Studios. 'fhe snJCiio was truly beautiful then, that Friday afternoon in Septelnber 1940. T'he wide avenue leading up to the Blain office building was bordered by blootning fl()\vers, the grass behind theln California-green, the long glass-fronted office building glaring white decorated by silver-painted window frallles and shutters. 'l'hose were the days when The Industry had class. You didn't have to snail along beside ~l deteriorating Hello, Doil)'! "New York" street, where today publicity clnployees toil in cubicles behind dirty-painted "Chicago" shops and saloons. \\Thy, that Septenlbcr Universal Studios hadn't even thought of its "C;uicied Studio 'l()ur," which has now deglaITIorized all of I-Iollywood. I swung left in front of the B1ain l:ntrancc and parked Iny lTIother's new Packard convertible hetween a shiny Rolls-Royce and a dark blue Cadillac. A studio security guard slniled in I11C and tipped his hat. I hadn't learned the lesson, yet, that gaining entrance to a Inajor sttldio depends <1 great deal on what you drive. Those days I just took all of that for gr~lntcd. Scnne feBas had the Inisfortune of being born with silver spoons in their IllOllths. l\1ine happened to be gold, and at age 21 I'd certainly never considered trying to ovcrcOlne that "disadvantage." Stepping out of the car, I looked around. l~his was really Hollywood, and I should have been illlpressed. But I wasn't. Lugging 111)' heavy suitcase and my other paraphernalia up the 111any steps was ,111 irritation. And the high glass doors didn't swing open by thenlselves, because of your body-heat, or your breaking of the electric beatll. In 1940 you had to do things yourself, and

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that particular day it was a real pain in the ass. uI h~l\'e an appointtnent with a Mr. Darryl Zanuck," I said to the uniforn1ed officer seated in a glassed-in cubicle bet\veen two heavy doors. 1Ie looked Ine up ~1nd down and slniled. "Here, young fella, we refer to the gentlclnan as tbe ;\'lr. I)arryl Zanuck. And your nalne is ... ?" "Budd Boetticher," I said, with an illllnodest alnount of pride. lIe looked down at his appointlnent chart. "That the saIne as 'Oscar Bocttichcr Junior~ '" Jcsus Christ, I'd forgotten Iny lTIother had initiated the appointment. I hlushed and nodded. "\Vell, take a seat, Sonny," he suggested, picking up the evening newspaper. "I'll let you know \\'hen l\1r. Zanuck's secretary buzzes me." I settlcd oo\\:n in a deep leather divan across froIll a fairly nice-looking young lady with absolutely alllazing breasts. \''ie were the only ones waiting in the outer reception lobbr, so I acknowledged her enthusiastic "Hi!" and slid back into Iny brooding. DaIl1n, why had I been talked into flying up to California? But, I knew vcry well "why," and was about to adnl0nish Inyself for allowing it to happen, when the girl walked across the r00l11 and sat down beside me. I'd s0111ehow sensed that I had attracted her, but I was well aware that it wasn't because I was "cutc," or even actorishly presentable. I hadn't yet nlet Dr. Ginzberg, Hollywood's clninent plastic surgeon, and 111y squashed nose, eight tinles broken froll1 prep school through college, covered a good hunk of my face. Close friends, I mean rcally close friends, joked that I looked like the loser of one of Joe Louis' ll1essier fights, and] had pf()Jllised to have it fixed. Then the young lady's first real sentence negated any idea I Inight have had that she was at all interested in Ine. ~Lllow in the world did you ever get an appointlnent with Mr. Zanuck?" "'fhe appoinonent was Illade for me," I said. "I didn't have a thing to do with it." ~L(;oll}', are you the lucky one! I'd give anything, and I luean anything, to be in your shoes! I've just got a date \\'ith an associate producer." She glanced down at Iny suitcase and the itelns strapped to it. "\\'hat are those things?" L~:\ suitcase full of photographs, and a cape and ... " ~~And ~l sword?" she questioned. "And a sword." ~~\Vhat are you, a dancer?" "lfell no! I'nl a ... " T'he voice of the security officer interrupted my answer. "Mr. Abrams will sce YOLI now, young lady." She jUInped up, giggling. "Bye, and good luck. You go in there and tap Nlr. Zanuck's head off." And she disappeared beyond the righth;:lnd heavy door. T'hcre was no doubt about it. This was going to be one of the great days of Iny life. Danln Iny I110ther!

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Georgia Boetticher was thirty-five years younger than Iny dad, spoiled rotten, and absolutely beautiful. Of course, I hadn't trusted Illy 1110ther since I was 6 years old, when she told Ine that she and my nurse were taking Inc to the circus. They got Ine all gussied-up and off we went-to the hospital to have Iny tonsils and adenoids renl0ved. I renlember asking, "Where are the elephants?" But, still, I adored her. However, in my Inother's view, her rose-colored \vorld was based on the siluple fact that there Inight be the "right way," the "wrong way," and Illayhe "the anny's way"; but "Georgia Boetticher's way" was the only way she acknowledged. My father had retired as head of Boetticher and Kellogg, one of the oldest and most successful hardware concerns in the country, l110ved away frol11 Indiana and now resided in California. Mother liked California-a lot. It had taken her ;1 whole year to becolne the president of The Santa Monica Breakfast C:Iub, ~1 1l1ost alnazing social feat, and a Inost prestigious position. She was really SOIllcthing! Well, one morning she received a letter froIl1 an old Evansville friend, ,lntI enclosed in the letter was the "bullfight clipping" and the story of what I had heen up to. Her football-injured son was not on a convalescent trip around South America, which she had financed to allow hinl tilne to heal his shattered knee. I-Ie was fighting bulls! Mother wasn't at all concerned that the bulls Blight kjlllne, but she let me know, in no uncertain terms, that bullfighting was absolutely unacceptable in her society. And my mother was devotedly social. Now she had two cinch ways she dealt with nle. When I displeased her, which was often, she had a Ininor heart attack. VVhen she truly wanted sOInething, it was always "If you love Inc ... " Hell, I loved her all right, so she had a pretty fonnidable batting average-well over .400. That is up until Mexico, and bullfighting, and Ruth. If she had known about Ruth she would have cOlnnlandeered the entire United States Marine Corps to parachute into Mexico City and rescue Inc. But Iny answer to her pleadings had always been "no." I would not finish Iny education at ()hio State. I'd COIne halTIe to visit now and then. I was canlpletely happy with nly chosen profession-the bulls, but, I would do Iny dalTIndest not to dress her in rllourning. 'rhat was all. Cut! The End. But, Georgia B. was never to be defeated. She discovered that 'Twentieth Century-Fox was going to relnake Rudolph Valentino's Blood find SlIud, the Spanish bullfight epic, and she placed a hurried call to 1-1 a 1 Roach. I-Ial Roach Junior had been my best friend at Culver Military AcadeIllY and had relnained Iny best friend throughout the ensuing years. In those days in Hollywood it was Inost inlportant to know a producer, or a director, or a star-if you wanted a favor. Well, I1lother hit the jackpot. Hal Roach Senior owned a whole oa1nn snldio, and was delighted to telephone his pal, Darryl. There was one position still unfilled on the project, that of "technical director," SOlneone who fully understood the art of bullfighting, and who spoke good English. At least I spoke darn good English,

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and that was that. Here I was about to apply for a job I didn't want, and all I could do was bCI110an nly fate. Another heart attack I couldn't take. I flashed back to Ruth-beautiful, sensational Ruth. lV10ther couldn't possibly have known about her, because, if she had, she Illight have "divorced" her ever-lovin' son-forever. I stood as an elegantly attired secretary walked out to Ineet nle. Acknowledging n1y identity, I followed the tall lady through the heavy door and down the long carpeted hallway, but I had already made up Illy 111ind to be an absolute flop. The l1lighty Darryl F. Zanuck stood up from behind his desk and offered his hand when I walked into his office. I hadn't expected that. He wasn't half as big as his reputation, but the glaring eyes of the stuffed animals ITIounted on the walls, and in the heads of the three flattened skin rugs, which used to be a tiger, a lion and a polar bear, exuded respect for the big boss of Twentieth Century-Fox Studios. I figured at least he was one hell of a shot. Then he introduced me to the gentlernen I had totally ignored as I entered the rOOITI. There were Rouben ,\1alllouiian, the director; Jo Swerling, the AcadeIllY Award-winning screenwriter, and \Villianl Koenig, the srudio's head of production. Mr. Zanuck explained in his own words not just who they were, but how dalnned good each one was at what he did. And I sure as hell wasn't ready for that. A quick flash reminded me that all I had to do now in this esteerlled asselnbly was act natural, if I really intended to "blow" this job, and I'd be back on the street in a flash. But, a funny thing began happening to Inc. Suddenly I wanted that job. They were all so nice! Who else in all this world of Illotion picrure hopefuls, with absolutely no experience in anything not related to Inuscle and guts, would be fortunate enough to be the center of attention of a distinguished group like this? And, I was properly ashaIlled of Iny previous incredibly juvenile attitude. J\Ilr. Jo Swerling started things off, and they got better by the Ininute. "l'n1 writing the screenplay for Blood and Sand," he said, "and I've got a 111illion questions to ~lsk you. \rVhy is the basic cape pass in bullfighting called the veronica?" Mr. Swerling was even srnaller than the boss, but he was imillediately a giant in Illy estilnation. I knelt beside )l1Y suitcase in a funlbling hurry to untie nly cape. As Iny fingers worked frantically on the rope, I heard Mr. Koenig's laugh behind Ine. "'rhis kid wants this job so ll1uch, Rouben, he didn't even bother to unpack his h~lg. n I spun around. "()h, no, sir," I explained, Hthe plane was so late I didn't have tinle to do anything hut drop )l1Y folks off at their hOlne and get over here." I nodded to the suitcase. "1 brought a lot of pictures with Ine to show you if you doubtcd .. .I f you thought Inaybc ... \Vell, I've heard there are a lat. .. " Mr. Koenig finished Iny sentence. " ... a lot of phonies in Hollywood." Mr. Koenig was squarebuilt like a blilldog-a very tough bulldog-but, he had a great slnile and I liked hill1 ill1l11cdiately. I stood up and spread the heavy raw-silk fighting cape wide in both hands, as if I were citing a bull. "The Bible says that Saint Veronica wiped

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the face of Jesus in this 1l1anner," 1 explained, as I detnonstrated by bringing 111)' two hands together to rub the pink outside of the cloth. "Will you please perfonn a pass or two for l11e, young 11lan?" 'rhe soft voice was heavily accented. I rurned to face Mr. Rouben Matnoulian. I-Ie was slniling slightly, but there was sOlllething about that sIllile I didn't like. I fig"ured, illllncdiately, that he was out to prove that 1 was one of those "phonies" 1\1r. Koenig referred to. C;lancing down at the lion, the tiger and the white bear, I saw that Iny plaza de tm-os was a little crowded. But, Mr. Zanuck sensed nly anxiety, pressed a button on his desk, and two young 11len appeared frolll nowhere ~lnd, with a h:JlldIllotion froIll their boss, cleared out the center of the big rOOI11. "Would you like Ine to nalne the various passes as I perfonn thein, sir?" I asked the director. Mr. Manl0ulian shook his head. I-Ie stood there, tall and thin, looking down at 111e through highly Inagnified horn-rillllned glasses, and his voice reeked of sarCaS111. "1 think your. .. 'peric)nnance' ... itself will suffice." Well, here was a fella 1 really . learned to hate, and then, as I '-grew older and becalne a director Inyself, learned to appreciate and adlnire. But, right then, ~lll I could think of was, "God danl111it! Where did he COl1le frolll?" I had thought everybody was "so nice." Then, the experience of all those years of football, hoxing and track weren't wasted. Every ounce of Illy cOll1petitive spirit pl1l11ped through Iny veins. 1 was going to get that job if it killed 111e, and I was going to stick Iny knowledge and talent of bullfighting up Mr. Mallloulian's ass! Well, in the following fifteen 11linutcs I could have cut two ears and ~1 tail in Madrid. 'Veronicas,' 'chicuelinas,' 'gaoneras'-the works-every series of p~lSSCS ending in a swirl of pink and yellow. If I'd only had a bull! Finally, Mr. Zanuck, who I'nl sure never enjoyed being .1 spect~ltor ~lt any sport that he could do hilnself, ClIne out frotn hehind his desk and reached for the cape. I played the "hull" by turning a straight-back chair upside down, using the back legs as horns, and the boss of'Twentieth C:entury-Fox was pretty (brn good. 'I'hen, he took the chair and I was in a lot of trouhle, because l).lrryl F. Zanuck-unlike 1110St fighting bulls-hooked hoth ways. 'lwo of the distinguished guests applauded and cheered, and I got the job: wlcchnic.11 l)irector" on Blood and Sand. And, suddenly cvery girl in the world W~lS abollt to hecolne jL'~ll()llS of Inc, because Iny first basic job was to teach 'lyrone Power how to look and (}love like a bullfighter. But, Mr. Power was in Europe and wouldn't he hOll1e for another eleven days. My training period with hinl would begin around the nliddle of ()ctober: play at bullfighting in the nl0rnings at the Powcr h0l11C on 'rig-ertllil Road in Brentwood, then be available for Mr. Swerling in the afternoons. I was to 1l1ake $150 a week. Mother was ecstatic! Dad seelned pleased, but I think it was Inostly heC,Hlse

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his son had tinally gotten SOIlle sort of a job. Dad believed in young fellas 111aking an honest living. But, he wasll't at all sold on the idea that the Illation picture business was honest. l~hey had purchased a beautiful hOlne not far froln the Powers ~lnd 1110ther figured it would he sirnple for nle to just run over there every Inorning for work. Figured also, of course, that I would be living at "holne." Well, she'd won the Hbattle," but she sure as hell wasn't going to win this "war." I flew back to l\'1exico C:ity three days later to explain Iny "only telllporary" departure frolH Iny beloved bullfight world, and to see Ruth. I'd never flown to 1\1exico C:ity, only fr0111 there just a few days before, and this particubr hair-raising adventure lllade the danger of the bulls look COlnll10nplace. I n those days there were sleeping berths on the night trips. Passengers drank thenlsclves into il fuzzily courageous franle of tnind, crawled into bed, bUlnpcd down into both M"lzatian and C;uadalajara, and then-if they were still awake-prayed their way up into 1\1exico C:ity as the two-engine planes sort of lolled along over the ocean and the hills at sOlnewhere around five thousand feet altitude. 'rhen, if the wings of l\1exica~l Aviation were still in their proper places, the pilots said a pleading l-{ail Mary, crossed thelnselves, revved up the engines
**** * *** ** It h~Hi heen only ten Inonths ago, but it seelned like ten years since she strode into the nightcluh and glided to her table on the raised platform surrounding the dance tloor like a torero 111aking the paseo. Three waiters hurried to stand hehind the Inaitre d' as he pulled out her chair. A fourth arrived with a crelne de

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Inenthe frappe, and placed it on the silver platter before her. She was gracious, appreciative of their attention, and she was the 1l1ost sensational looking WOll1<1n I had ever seen. She was, like ahnost everyone else in the C:Iub Rossinerre, fonl1~l11v dressed, her evening gown crealn Fren~h silk with a dark green bolero. An eIl1c"r'aId pendant hung from a gold chain at her throat; a 111atching-cllt slnallcr stone dangled froIn her left ear. Her jet-black hair was pulled back over the other ear into a braided Spanish bun at the nape of her slender neck. And she had l11()Ved across the restaurant carpet with an aniInal-like grace, her slender fig-ure a willow in a country filled with oak trees. I guessed her absolutely ageless .1nJ would h.lve taken a shot at "30." But, perhaps a 1l10re sophisticated eye, accustoll1cd to the cosI11etic genius of gorgeous ladies, would have placed her age closer to "40." I puckered Iny lips to whistle softly in deep appreciation of her elegance, but ]ny Culver-buddy traveling cOlnpanion, lOin Joy, beat Ine to it. 'lbn1, of the Packard Motors-Grossepoint, Michigan, Joys, was going to spend a good portion of Iny vacation with Ine. First Mexico City, then on to Vera C:ruz and one of the C;race Line's ships to journey around the tip of South Alnerica. 'T'he doctor in St. Louis, who performed the operation on Iny knee, had said it would take that long for In)' complete recovery. Now, TOI11'S faInily was a lot richer than the Boettichers. As il matter of fact, Iny father had done business with theln way before we 111ct. I Ie and Inother always drove Packards. SOlnehow that I1lade Tholl1::1s Inorc "worldly" than 1. He wasn't an athlete and, consequently, didn't have to stay "in shape," which he never was. But he had learned to drink properly, been to all the right places, gillnbled in all the fancy casinos in Europe, and-not unlike a very rich sailor-had a gal in every port. And I was shocked when I turned to face hilll. I-1e, of the cultured, beautifully educated "Emily Post" Inanners, had whistled out loud. We had arrived in Mexico City only late that very afternoon. I had snaked Iny shiny yellow La Salle convertible through the traffic on Avcnida Juarez, and pulled up in front of the Hotel Regis. There weren't 111any convertihles in the capital then, certainly not another yellow La Salle, and we caused quite a COlnnl()tion as our guide, Victor Avila, WhOI11 we had picked up in Monterrey, jUll1ped out of the rUlnble seat to unload our bags. Victor, hinlself, had suggested the Regis. It seelns that was where Lee Tracy, the fanlous Hollywood leading Inan, had urinated from his balcony onto the heads of the Mexican troops during their Independence Day parade-following which the entire Mctro-C;oldwyn-Maycr company of Vivo Villa had been uncerenl0niously run out of town. And, sizing up the vast colonial-architectured lobby, and now knowing that this was where the "action" was, we agreed this was the only place to stay. 'The desk clerk had infornled us that the Club Rossinerre was the nightspot in all of Mexico, only a short walking distance froln the hotel; and there we both were, gaping across the empty dance floor as if our favorite 1l1ovie actress had suddenly stepped out of our

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individual dreanls. But, we weren't alone in our adrniration of the lady. Other beautiful wonlcn in the posh restaurant whispered to each other, while their cscorts brazenly cast covetous glances in her direction. 'rhc orchestra sebTUcd into Crl71lillo:; de Ayer (" Roads of Yesterday"). I've cert;linl~' tr;n'e\ed down a spider-web Inapful of those "roads" since then, but at that p~lrticllbr IllOIncnt the beautiful .\1exican ballad Ineant little to nle, except that it was invitingly rornantic. ;\ flash of reflection fro 111 the silver peso TOll1 had just flipped into the ~lir interrupted Illy thoughts. l'hen, pahning the coin flat onto the tablecloth, he announced "heads." "For what?" I inquired. "'For to see which olle of us asks the lady to dance." I-Ie \\'as grinning that SlllUg "don't bet against Ine" expression, and-for once-I hoped that darnn peso coin of his was "heads" on both sides. This kind of "action" was '1(Jll1 's style, certainly not Inine. But, I said "tails" and "You've got to he out of your head!" \Vell, "tails" it was. lC)lll said, ~'Dallln!" and I stood up with forced bravado and strode across the rOOIl1. "Strode" Inay be a bit exaggerated. I think I sort of sneaked, hoping the lady would cOlnpletely ignore Ine. And she did . .Vly invitation was perfectly proper: "Excllse Inc, hut would you care to join Ine in a dance?" But, she never looked up frorn her Inenu. It had worked at Choate School for Boys, C:ulver, and ()hio State. Maybe she didn't speak English, or better, was totally de:.lf. rrhe lnaitre d' touched Iny elbow. "Young 111an," he said most politely, "please allow 1l1C to escort you back to your table." Now, this was a social catastrophe. I glanced down, pleadingly, for S0I11e sign of the lady's acceptance, but she never batted .In eyelash. It was as if I had not even arrived at her table, even ever existed. 'rhere was that horrible InOIllent when I knew that all eyes were upon I11e; then I allowed Inysclf to he guided, sruI11bling back to our table, where TOlll was coughing out a spasln of uncontrolled laughter. I sat down hard; then-quite 1Illconsciollsly-I glanced hack across the rnonl where the lady was being served a lohster cocktail. For a fleeting second our eyes Inet, and then, when she looked hack at her dish, 1 felt younger, Illore stupid and totally rejected than at any other tiJllC I could rClllcrnhcr. 'rhe following hour was interI11inable. It snailed on and on in slow Illotion, while ')C)Jll ilnposed his \vorldly chann on every tourist falnily whose attractive daughter cared "to join hiIll in a oance." His stylish clothes and his youthful exuherance cOlnbincd to rnakc hinl a big hit, while I sat brooding about Iny social clblnity, afraid even to glancc again across the room in the fear that Inine and the elegant lady's eyes I1light rneet again. ~'PerdonaInc, senor, but the senora will dance with you now." I glanced up froIll the study of Iny hands to discover the Inaitre d' standing at

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the table. The gentlenlan repeated hilnself and nodded across the rooln where the lady was sipping her delTIitasse. "You mean tbat senora?" I asked. The Inaitre d' nodded, sI1liling graciously. "'Please, senor, cOlne with Inc." I sort of struggled to Illy feet and fol1owed the l11an around the crowded dance floor to stop before her table and look down into the daInndest pair of eyes I'd ever seen. There was no way to describe thenl by color. They were just-well-worldly. And I inlInediately caIne to the conclusion that what they saw and wanted, they dalnn well got. The Inaitre d' hurried to pull out her chair; then, gently touching Iny shaking ann, she floated beside 111e to the dance floor. Now, years before at a high school junior prOlll in I-Ienderson, Kenrucky, I first experienced a southern danlsel's desire to dance right through Ine. It was a nerve-tingling renleIllbraI1ce I had enjoyed, since then, getting used to. But, none of those partners had been anything like this. As I placed Iny ann around the slender lady's waist, she becaIne a part of 1l1e-frol11 the tip of Illy toes to the very top of nly head. And, her body was wanll, and vibrant, and "'wolnanly" I guessed. Not at all like that little kid's in Henderson. Being "young" has a strange way of bursting one's enlotions back and forth like a ping-pong ball. A short 1110nlent before I had been in the depths of insecurity, filled with a feeling of inferiority as I watched Iny traveling cOlnpanion cavort about the restaurant with one beautiful girl after another. Now, with Illy "senora" breathing against Iny neck, I was bursting with '11111c/;is'111O-filled with newly born confidence and Inasculinity. I purposely bUlnped into TOIll and his latest partner and, winking broadly, I "read" the worst line of "dialogue" of Illy life. "I think I've got sonlething here," I proclaimed with classless gusto. 'fhe lady pushed her body away froln nle just enough to look up into Iny eyes. "Before you clnbarrass yourself any further," she said, "I should infonn you I an1 fluent in English, French, GenTIan, as well as Spanish." My face lit up like a I-Ialloween pUlnpkin. 10'1 beg your pardon, 'senorita,'" I stanlI11ered, HI. .. " "Senora," the lady corrected. "Senora Ruth D'Laurage. l\1y husband has been dead for over seven years, if that iteIll of infonnation interests you. j\nd you may call me Ruth." Thinking back on Iny corny line, I did "have sOl1lething" there, but it wasll't at all what I expected. And, it wasn't based on sex. It was the beginning of ~l wonderful friendship fronl which I have profited greatly. lc)ll1 drifted off with a young socialite from New Orleans to listen to the Inariachis at the 'fupinaInpa nightclub, and Ruth and I were left alone. We didn't dance again. We just talked and talked. It was as if we had known each other for years. She was extrelnely well educated, certainly worldly wise, and very, very funny. She was surprised to discover that I was knowledgeable of Parisian art and well-versed in the works of the

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Itnpressionists. It was a hobby of Inine, one which I had never spent a great deal of tilne discussing with Iny athletic peers. '\Te cOInpared opinions of Van Gogh, T()ulousc-Lautrec, C;auguin, .\lonet, and she seemed deeply appreciative of ll1Y personal viewpoints. It \vas four o'clock in the 1110rning when I s\VUng the La Salle out of the I--Iotel Regis' underground garage and onto the Paseo Reforn1a. The street was deserted except for a few taxis and Ruth's long beige linl0usine, whose chauffeur and broken-nosed, dark-suited friend kept a discrete distance behind us. "\ \ no's the guy with the punched-in face, your bodyguard?" I asked facetiously. Ruth nodded, L'His name is Ramon." And, I sure let it go at that. \'\'e had put the top do\vn on the convertible, and what was left of the night was beautiful. Perhaps the best thing about that night was that Ruth was having as 11111ch fun as I \vas. Sitting atop the front seat and steering with Iny feet was something I'd wanted to try ever since I'd seen that rnovie at Culver. But, now I was "(:ary (;rant," and Ruth, sitting up there beside Inc, was "Constance Bennett." But, it was our picrure show now, not 'lappeI'. \Vhen we arrived at two giant lion statues at the entrance to Chapultepec Park, Ruth said, "Turn left," and we both slid back down onto the leather seats. 'T'he Inansion \\'as alnlost as in1posing as its rnistress, spread out over onethird of the long block: Mexican C:olonial, with a seven-foot stone wall, split in two hy a Inassivc \\'rought-iron gate that swung open electrically. The "Goodnight ()scar"-she preferred to call Ine that, and I didn't mind-came as a bit of a surprise. But, the night had been a series of surprises and I merely shrugged. Ruth burst out laughing. HI said 'goodnight,' not 'good-bye.' At this Inoment it is not convenient. I will send the car for .vou and .vour friend at nine." wrhis rDorning, in four 1110re ... ?" "()scar, in

Illy

life there is no Inorning. You and Tom be ready prolnptiy at

nine. \\'e will have dinner here. In the rneantirne, I will arrange a pass for you both at 'rhe Palace of Fine ;\rts. 'I'he curator's nanle is Senor Vallina. He will, personally, show you around. It will he a wonderful experience for you." She turned to step through the gate, but I silnply had to know the answer to one hurning question. "Ruth, why did you decide to dance with I11e?" She slniled ~1IH.1 reached up to touch Iny battered nose. "1 like that," she said. "It shows courage and detennination, and I adnlire your audacity. You should have been a torero, You have all the requisites-good and bad." 'fhen she laughed and walked through the gate, which clanged shut behind her. Sliding back into the front seat of Illy car, I heard Illysclf say aloud: "A torero." I was pretty sure it was a complilnent, but I'd look it up. I beat 'foln back to the Hotel Regis by at least two hours. As a Inatter of fact, it was getting light when he woke me up. He n1ust have had one hell of an experience, hut I Inanaged to go to sleep while he was still bragging. Tc>m had the

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American-nlacho habit of "kiss and telling," but that was about his only tlaw, so I always figured I could live with that. Ruth was right. 'rhe visit to The Palace of Fine Arts was a \\'onderful experience. We spent four of the late afternoon's hours there, enjoying every lninute of our personally guided tour. I was cOll1pletely enchanted by the Inagniflcent paintings and sculpture, rfOll1 equally enchanted by the bevy of great-looking young lady tourists. He lnade four dates for the following week during the tlrst hourand-a-half. Senor \!;l11ina, our str~lngely obsequious host, inf()rtncd liS th~lt El Palacio de Bellas Artes \vas slo\vly sinking into the volcanic ash ::lnd lava over which it \\',lS constructed. And, facing it, we had noticed that the Inagnificent structure was listing a bit to port, but TOln explained to our curator friend that so was the Leaning Ibwer of Pisa, and people 'were still flocking to see it. I kicked at his shin, but he had already turned to wave 'good-bye' to next-YVednesday's date. ()n the Wel}' out, I bought two books, "Art of the Mayans" (lnd "Pre-C:olulllbian Art." 'li)]n \vas genuinely ilnpressed with the latter, enthusing th,lt: ""All those ch.lractcrs ever thought of was screwing." Senor \Tallina was inclined to agree, but he In~lnaged to change the subject. "You two young gentielnen are very fornlnare to have .1 friend like Senora 1)'Laurage. She has been ,1 great contrihutor to Bellas Artes-fin~ln­ cially and artistically. Perhaps, aside frol11 the wife of our esteenlcd 'Presidcntc,' she is the lllost fanl0us lady in all of Mexico." Youthfully, I figured IllY ne\\.' friend Ruth really "got around." At 9 p.l1l. sharp RaIllon strode into the lobby of the Ilotd Regis ilnd spotted us waiting by the fountain. "Listos?" he inquired, .1110 'l()ln, who had l11
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"You w.lnt to see?" he asked, holding up a snub-nosed .38 in his rl1assive right hand. 'I'he .. ~() rfI IA0JKS~" burst froln both of us in direct synchronization, and Ranlon, looking disappointed, turned his attention back to Avenida Juarez. rl()ln and I had seen all kinds of weaponry at C:ulver, but those were our t,Tuns. And, we were both nlotion picture fans of Bogart, and Cagney and George R.lft, hut their guns shot hlanks. Now, here we were, sitting behind a real thirtyeight with real hullets, and neither of us was particularly cOInfortable. I bet, to Inyself, that the hard-looking chauffcur also totcd a 'gat.' TOln adlnitted later that hc thought so, too. And, who were those punks guarding-us? I was glad when we turned Icft at the t\vo lion statues in front of the entrance to Chapultepec Park. A willowy effeillinate-iooking servant opened the front door and suggested, in broken English, that \ve "Plceth wok thees way." It relninded Ine of the Marx Brothers' Illovie, where C;roucho Inilnicked the ancient butler following the old l11an's silnilar request, but there was no way either Torn or I could emulate the ]llincin~ gait of the slender young servant as he led us down the long hallway. 'lC)lll raised his right-hand little finger to straighten his eyebrow. "He's a fairy," he s~lid. I grilllaced as I saw the youth's shoulders flinch, and shook Iny head at Iny cOlllpanion. I thought we had both learned a lesson in the car. We were in tVlexico, and cVl'l),bo{~)' spoke enough English to get us both killed, or worse. \Ve stopped, unconsciously, at the head of the stairs leading down into the sunken living rooln. Both of Ollr falnilies had raised us in luxurious surroundings, but what confronted us now \\'<1S a cOIl1pletely different display of wealth. I had never experienced the beauty of a Mexican C:olonial Inansion. The building was new hut looked spotlessly ancient. 'fhe ceiling was twenty-five feet above the polished Inarhle floor. Every doorway and stained-glass window was arched with protruding 13v.\ stone. rrhere was no carpeting, just colorfully beautiful handlnade Indj~\n rugs throughout the entire salon. I had a feeling I was back at the Bellas Artes, but the paintings were all Spanish and Mexican: Goya, Velazquez, Orozco, SiqlIciros, Xilllcnel'., l)iego Rivera. Ruth Inoved to greet us froIn the far end of the rOOlll. She was dressed in a low-cut C;recian gown even Inore elegant than the one she had worn the night before. Behind her was a gigantic oil painting depicting the entire audience of a hullring standing, en Inasse, waving hankerchiefs-an ocean of hOlnage-to their 11Jlltlldor hero, who stood alone on the circle of yellow sand, ~old-sujted, back arched, both hands reaching up to catch a bouquet of red carn.nions tossed down to hin1 by an adoring "senorita." 'rhe IlH;lllOry of Ruth walking towards us, as if she had just stepped out of that painting, is a "scene" I will cherish as long as I live. No director-not even St~vens, lIuston or I)cMille-could have staged it more dra,natically. But, of coursc.:, that gorgeous lady was a very draInatic person. Just then, another young servant swished into the rOo[11, bearing three creIne de menthe frappes. Ruth

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noticed Iny hurried glance at Tonl, reached out to touch our two glasses with a "sa Iud," then said: "Don't be disturbed by Iny choice of dOlnestics. \Vhen I first Inoved here frain France, I had girl servants and they stole Ine blind, engaged in continuous jealous battles and becanle individual nuisances." She SIl1ilcd at IllC. "Now, living in this big house all alone, I certainly didn't think it would be a good idea to surround Inyself with a bunch of 'Inacho' Inales, so ... " She nodded toward the departing waiter. "That was the only intelligent answer. I have five hOlnosexuals working for me here. I pay theIn a very substantial salary. rrhey have lovely quarters in which to live, and twice a year-Easter and ChristInas-I allow theIll to dress up in Iny clothes and give thelllselves a party. And, I'll guarantee you that this is the Inost efficiently run hOIne in all of Mexico." "Makes dallln good sense to 1l1e," Tonl offered. I contributed a hesitant nod of agreelnent, because I sure knew it wouldn't be very acceptable in Evansville, Indiana. And, one thing still puzzled Ine. "Ruth, what about Ranlon and your chauffeur? I nlean, there's nothing 'wrong' with thelll, is there?" Ruth reached up and patted Iny cheek. "Darling, there's nothing 'wrong-' with any of Iny help. But, if you I1lean, are they 'nuuicones,' yes. rrhey've heen lovers for years." And, I proInised I1lyself, right there and then, I wouldn't ask any lnore questions. I walked over to get a closer look at the bullfight painting, not just to hurriedly change the subject, but because sOInething about that p
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chose to talk about, and Ruth was genuinely interested. But she, personally, offered very little inforInation as to her social background and her obvious wealth. All we learned was that she had been born in Paris; her father was French, her 1l1othcr Spanish. As coffee was being served, a seven-piece, fully costlnned ll1ariachi orchestra paraded into the living r00l11 to serenade us. The Inusic was rOlnantic, beautiful, pure .\1exican. \IVe were told that aiinost all of it \vas C0I11posed by Augustin Lara, and I \\'as so in1pressed \vith this added splurge of entertainlllent that I forgot Iny proll1ise to Inyself. "Ruth," I asked, '\vhere did you find these wonderful lllusicians? They're absolutely sensational!" Ruth took her tilne \\'ith a final sip of coffee, allowed our eyes to I11eet and hold for a long 1l101nent before she answered. "These are the tnariachis froIll Iny 11lain house. 'They play for Illy custoIners every night." TOIll and I exchanged hurried glances as Illy guts flipped over. I nlay have been fronl Indiana, but I was beginning to see the light. Ruth continued, and her voice took on a quiet, explanatory tone, as if she were speaking to ;] child. "()scar, I thought you knew, that, by this tilne, S0I11eOne had to have told you. I anl not just a 'Inadan1.' I al11 tbe 'tTIadaln' in Mexico City. I own seven houses of prostitution-I believe yoU call theln whorehouses in the United States. And Iny [nain establishn1cnt, 'Ruth's,' is fan10us throughout the world. 'Ic)Jl1 said, "\Vow!" and I sat still, absolutely speechless. I suddenly felt as if I were having dinner with Al C:aponc. And I didn't want to feel that way at 1111.' Ruth understood Iny sudden concern. She continued slowly. "'-''hen I can1e to J\1cxico, I planned to carefully invest a great deal of lTIOney, but it took Ine over a year to ascertain exactly what I wanted to do. There are lTIany ways to 111ake 11loncy in IVlcxico; the Ina1n attraction, of course, is through politics; the second, high society; the third, cntcrtainnleJlt, show business, bullfighting. So I invested in a business where I would be consistently involved with these gentlelllen, and know, day by day, exactly what was going on in this country. And frOll1 that knnwledge, I continued to augtnent Iny fortune." I still sat there, srunned. AJI the questions, all the "gabbiness" had just been sho<.:kcd out of Inc. Dan1n, I wanted to be a lot 11l0re like TOln. He looked as if he'd just struck oil. But, I already had a real crush on this beautiful lady, and I had no idea how to handle it. "()scar, lain 110t one of Iny girls. I know theln all, and really love some of thelll, but I only visit Illy establishlnents if there is an elnergency. Ralnon and (;uillenno are responsible for the house-to-house collection of profits and, aside fr0l11 'Ruth's,' I never hecolne personally involved." I was still lost, but'10111 Inanaged to break the deadly silence. "You ... you go to your Inain house?" Ruth siniled and nodded. "Everybody goes to Illy l11ain house. It's a sanctuary

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for disappointed husbands, a hiding place for politicians, a resting o.lsis for foreros. It's a club, l()Jll, not just a brothel. i'\o one ever has to go upst.lirs." 'rhen, glancing back at Iny Illournflll expression, she hurst out laughing. "C;ood Lord, Illy darling hoy, 1'ln not the l)ragon Lady. Business is business." I never felt sIllaller or 11l0re insensitive in Iny life. Jesus! I hadn't been educated or raised to accept CirClll1lstances like this, hut I sure as hell knew I'd hetter grow up in a big hurry or blow one of the greatest experierH:es ever to he offered Ine. l'he Ruth D'Laurages of the world just don't grow on trees to pick when you want, or to drop on your head. I still had no ide;l wh.H on e~1J"th h;l<.l attr.lctcd her, but there she was-talking' to Inc-not to '[()Ill or any other C\-C:u]\,er cadet. "Ruth," I stuttered, groping for words, "1'n1 sorry, ,lnd stupid. I'\'en if you were the Dragon Lad~·. 1 Inean, 1\1 still he proud to be here 'lnd ... " She stopped laughing to lean across to kiss Inc on the cheek. I"} lush!" she ordered. OI'J'h:n is the worst speech I've ever heard, and I'll h~l\'c no 1110re of it." 'rhen she cLIpped her hands together, and one of her serv,uns appe;ued frolll the h;111, Ilodded to her short order in Sp'lnish, ;lnd hurried to fulfill her wish. "1l1rning to 'l()!ll, Ruth announced her intentions. "'1'111 sure, de,lr 'I'hOlll:1S, you HUlst h;n'C better thing-s to do than spend the rest of the night with lIS "old folks.'" '()Ill shook his he;ld. "No, not really," he disagreed; "I'Ill havi ng ~l hell of a tilllC." \ Ve ;lll ttl rned our heads as R.lnl0n appe.lred at the entrance to the hall. Ruth sinilcd, and continued. "Well, good then, that changes 111)' plans." But, now, perfectly stagcd ;In
17

CHAPTER

O:,\E

d e d up Just ' "freezlng ' " to t he sheets. And " d next nlove, B SOl1le sop 111Stlcate ut, Ien then she seeIlled to float across the thick carpeting to sit on the bed beside me, and I sensed that the lady was going to allo\\' me to take charge, and everything was going to be "all right." I held out nly afIllS to embrace her, and she slipped into bed beside Ine. Then the first plaintive notes of A l1ocbe, Mexico's current favorite love song, paralyzed Ine "dead all over" as if I'd just been electrocuted. That whole dalnn lnariachi band was serenading us from the patio outside the bedrooIn window. "(;ood God, Ruth~" was all I could get out. "Relax, darling," she InufInured gently, pushing Ine back onto the silk pillows, ~'thcy can't see in. Look how the arc lights are situated." "\~Vell, I can't do ... " "I said 'relax,' darling. lou don't have to do anything." And the soft strains of the lV1.exican guitars played on and on, it seemed-forever. II,

"

**********

Vv'hen I walked into the lobby of the Hotel Regis, the clock above the desk showed that it was 10: 17 a.lll. I had left nly wristwatch in Ruth's bedroo111 as I had sneaked out of bed, ever so quietly, so as not to awaken her. But, of course, I'd left a lot of things in that hedrooln: all of Iny boyishness, what was left of any insecurity, and, not really Iny virginity, although it Inight as well have been. At least I had certainly discovered I wasn't an authority on that no matter what the girls had told 1l1C at ()hio State. But I really felt good. C;ood, hell, I felt great! It hadn't been the kind of night I expected. Sure we'd Inade love-a lot of it. But along with the excitclnent and sheer passion involved, it was sweet, and soft, and ... well. .. "friendly." I'd never experienced all those cOlnbinations before. Dalnn, I was nuts about Ruth I)'Laurage. I Illonlcntarily tried to compare her to anybody-to eve1ybody else. '("'here was no way. 'rhc hell captain signaled Ine and handed Ine a note. Tom was downstairs in the bfl/IOJ. "'The steam baths, the Banos Regis," the captain explained, "is a very special place. All the fanlous people cOlne here every day." He pointed to the marhie stairway leading down froln the Illain lobby. I descended the stairs, read the sign above the entrance, paid the attendant the three pesos and checked into the tiny cuhicle assigned to nle. Then, hanging my clothes on the available hooks, I wrapped IllYSelf in one of the giant towels and set out to search for Thomas. 'rhe Regis steaIn baths caine with the hotel in the late 19th century, a we1corne sanctuary for notables of all nations to sweat out the tequila and beer, and rid thCll1sc1ves of the added kilos-an unwanted addition that is unfortunately provided with any lv1.exican vacation. The local gentry considers the banos to be a

18

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l110ral obligation to survive, to convalesce, or silllply to "sweat out" enough "poison" to be able to start life all over again. I finally found TOlll stretched out on a sheet-covered deck chair in the dryoff rOOll1. He looked half-dead, hut he had a slnile on his face. l."IIi, tiger," he offered weakly; then: "God dalnn, you won't belicz'f that place!" I shook Illy head. Wroday I'll believe anything." TOlll struggled to sit up, his energy rehlrning ,vith his enthusiasln. "'And I couldn't spend a peso. rrhe girls wouldn't even let 11lt buy theIn a drink." I laughed and sat down on the wooden chair beside hin1. ""rhe girls.' You nlust have had sonle night." lIe shook his head. "1 h~Hl thenl all over Ine. Anything I wanted. Any nUlnber of things. And they were all just as great looking as lVlercedes. But, all of a sudden I got honorable. I was Ruth's guest, invited to spend her Inoney and I just couldn't do it." I stifled a laugh. hS O ?" l-le hung his head in 1110ck shallle. "So I shacked up all night with A1ercedes. And I think 1'nl in love. " T'here was a knock on the porthole of the heavy wooden door. 'rhrough the circle of glass we could see the grinning face of Victor, our guide WhOll1 we had ahnost deserted, hut still kept on salal),. I-Ie held up two colorful bullfight tickets and waved theln for us to sec. rI0l11 waved back and he disappeared froln view. "Our Victor is a character," 'Iblll offered. "'rhat ticket I boug'ht hin1 just 111.1(le his whole year. He knows 1110re about this Lorenzo C~~Hza felb we're gOlln~l see thml the lnatador does hilnself. ' rhey're hoth frolH Monterrey, you kno\\\ and ( ;~117.a is Victor's idol. Let 111e fill you in." And he certainly did. In 1940, there was a favorite saying of the {~t;ciOlll1d()s of L\1exico l11aking the rounds of taurine society. It went: "Fennin Espinosa, 'Annillita,' is the hest turt'ro in the world, but I'd rather see Lorenzo C;arza." ()f course, I hadn't seen either one of thenl, nor had I actuallv" cared to , hut Victor had eXI)iained the difference between the two great Inatadors to '1()1l1. "Annillita" was the Inaestro-thc trUl' Inaster of the bullring-but his genius 111.1de everything he did seeln easy. (;~lrza, however, had a cOlnpletely opposite style. lIe Inade everything look ilnpossible. He either had a triulllph or a cOlnplete disaster. Every (orridtl of his hCC~lIne a national controversy. And the country was divided into two vobtile factions-thc "Annillistas" and the "C;arzistas." Now "Annillita's" loyal followers contcnded, and rightly so, that their 1113n had C:lass. Lorenzo (;arza 's legions steadfastly believed that their lllan-they called hill1 ~'Lorenzo c1 Magnifico"-Ilot only possessed an equal al110unt of 'class,' hut good or bad, sensational or disgraceful, Lorenzo C;arza had balls. Now, balls, c~j()11lJJ-b/ll'VOS (cggs)-arcn't jllst the Spanish words for what Mr. Webster refers to as testicles. In rvlcxico, having huevos is an absolute necessity for the lowest peon up to EI Prcsidcnte hitnself. Without theln you are a nobody. rrhey won't even let you into church. But having "eggs " d oesn ,. t Just 111ean you are 1)rave. You have stature. You have integrity. And

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.rOll are honorable. It is true that every. Inacho Inale in Mexico lies about that , I)ut-if he lies honorably-he has balls. It's a way of life. But in this new season of bullfight Inani;1, the "C;arzistas" had a probleln. Their Inan of steel, their hero, had suddenly developed feet of clay. And that l11an, who exelnplified all that was gloriously brave, was in disgrace. I-Ie had been involved in three straight j"acflsos where he had left the plaza in a shower of cushions and insults, as he had, purposely, 111aneuvered hill1self a good kilollleter away frolll the horns. I-lis detractors set aholIt writing obscene notes on his car, and on the walls of his hOlne, like: HC()\V:\RI)~" "FRAUD!" "Your l1lother is a whore!" and "Your wife sucked you eggless~" IIowever, \lictor understood the problem. Don Lorenzo had just been [narried before the bullfight season opened. "And his wife is beautiful. You should see her~" \Tictor had enthused. "And he loves her very l1luch." So, Victor figured dut the 111.ltador had been saving hirnself for his bride, hut also fouling up his hOlllC life. It is an established fact for those "in the know" that toreTO.'l don't spend a lot of tinle Inaking love the night hefore they face the bulls. And, to nlake Inatters worse-especially for a newly 111arried couple-if the matador has a disastrous tilne in the ring, sex doesn't have a habit of dOluinating his thoughts during the following days of rCI1l0rSe and self-recrimination. So, rnaybe, our brilliant guide concludcd, Senora C;arza had a few words to say about that situation. After all, her hushand probably hadn't been "tnagnificent" anywhere. At any rate, Don Lorenzo (;arl.
20

WHEN

IN

DISGRACE

Ruth had two season tickets in the very first row and I wasn't at all cOlllfortable when we walked down the stairs past TOln and Victor, who were seated quite a way up from us. I had offered to flip with TOlll to see who would sit down front with Ruth, but he'd have none of it. I thought, at first, that Iny pal was being generous. But that "last mile" down those concrete steps past all those grinning 111~lS­ culine faces nodding and bowing to Ruth, and sOlnetilnes winking at Inc, was a torturous experience. Everyone knew Iny "gal!" There were very few ladies attending bullfights in those days, but those who were there turned their eyes away. Jesus, being famous was one thing-notorious quite another. But R,Hllon had been allowed to park the linl0usine on the sidewalk just outside the plaza and the police who rushed to guard it seenled overCOlne with respect for Iny bely. So, I guessed it was like everywhere else. It was just according to whose side you were on. Then drulns rolled and a trumpet blew, and far across the yellow circle of ring two gates swung open and Don Lorenzo C;arza strode out onto the sand. Now I'd never seen a traje de luees, the gold suit of lights, or any of the fellows who fit their slender bodies into theIne But, I want to tell you, that Lorenzo Garza fella was a sight! He stood there as his [/llldrilla, his teanl of helpers, fonl1ed a single line behind hiITI. They were his banderi/leros, and his picadores on horseback. He knew that his detractors, and his ex-ardent fans, and the press-2 g,OOO in all-were waiting for hiITI. And he also suspected that a good Inany of thenl h<1(l brought along rotten fruit and vegetables and dead GUS to throw at hilll if he failed again. But there he stood, dressed in black and gold, purposely keeping his head bowed as if he were asking for forgiveness. Then, with the fIrst blaring notes of Cielo Andnluz, the opening parade Inusic, he looked up, sIniled as he took off his 11101ltera and strode his first steps across the ring. I didn't understand it then, and the noise of the whistling and catcalls drowned out Ruth's explanation, so I just watched hiITI with deep adnliration. I'd spent too Il1uch titl1e in other athletics not to know he was sticking it up their asses. And I was right. A 1l1atador only 1l1akes the opening paseo with his 111011terfl (his hat) in his hand when it is his first tilne in that ring of the new season. Garza had been in EI Tareo three tilnes before, but-1nontern extended in his right hand-he was saying; "I1ere I al11 again, YOll bastards, and I'ITI going to lnake you eat every rotten, filthy word you've said or written." Well, during the next two hours, as I watched hin1 torellr six San Mateo bulls-beautiful animals frOITI the leading bull-breeding ranch in the country-football, boxing, basketball and even the thrill of the 1DO-yard dash faded into lnemory. That man gave great dignity to his chosen profession and I was caught up in the ocean of 28,000 wildly screanling 4I(;arzistas"-his. nowagain devout aficionados-his now-again "until death do we part" fans who adored him. There he was, all alone down on that circle of .yellow sand, winding th~lt ~

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frightening black beast around his slirn body like a ballet dancer spinning into his silk sash. He cut ears and tails from three of his first five bulls and ears frOln the other n\'o , awards granted a Inatador for an absolutely phenornenal perfornlance. And I \vas witnessing that bullfight! Hell, it was like the day in the 1932 \\Torld Series when Babe Ruth pointed to the flagpole in Wrigley Field, then proceeded to knock the ball over it. Or Red Grange's four touchdowns against Michigan in the first quarter. I \vas just a little kid when I heard about that, but I was seeing this! Yet, the Inatador had never accepted the trophies, never taken a bow or a tour of the ring. And the bun1s on the "sunny side," who had hrought the dead cats, and the rotten fruit and vegetables, pushed theln "across the seats toward their neighbors, then glared at tbe7l1 for even anticipating such a dastardly affront to their idol. Finally, as he cotnpleted his artistry with "Principe Azul," the last hull of the afternoon, he "fixed" the anilnal with a slight flick of the ululetn (the swatch of red serge fastened to the two-and-one-half-foot wand-like stick in his hand) and unexpectedly turned his back to kneel down on the sand a scant few feet in front of the needle-pointed horns. He held up his hand for silence and you could actually hear the bull breathing. The rnatador had sOlnething to say to the crowd, those 2H,OOO adoring "Garzistas" who worshipped hinl. And I knew that Mister Lorenzo Ciarza's bllevos were well worth paying attention to. "(Jueridos an1igos (Dear friends)," he began. It was all in Spanish, of course, but I sat there transfixed, as if I could understand every word. When he finished there was a gasp froll1 the audience. I distinctly heard Ruth laugh, then all hell broke loose. C;arza stood, turned to cite the bull with the sword, then plunged the steel into the anilnal's shoulders. '[he beast dropped as if hit by a rifle shot and (;arza vaulted over the red "barrera" fence into the alleyway behind it. rrhe police arrived froln all directions to surround hiln in the clll/ejon. Cushions rained dO"wn into the alleyway froll1 the first row "shady-side" and the officers pyratnided their riilcs over the tnatador's head to protect hiIl1, as other unifonned guards propelled hitl1 through an exit beneath the stands. I couldn't understand exactly what was happening, but I grabbed Ruth and held her tight, so that we both wouldn't be pushed into the ring below. Four seats down fronl us a lnink-coated, bejeweled lady slapped her husband across his red face. He was a full general wearing a tlluch decorated unifonn of the Mexican anny. This, I couldn't understand at all! But it was a riot, all right! A first-class, Brooklyn Dodger riot, and we were in the tniddle of it. I'd seen riots in newsreels at soccer gaInes in Rio, but nothing like this. In Rio, everyone seetned angry. l-lere, a lot of these idiots were having a ball. Ilappy spectators were punching angry ones. Well-dressed W0I11en were berating their elllbarrassed husbclnds. But practically all of the "sunny-side" aficionados se<.!llled to be having the tilne of their lives. Finally the riot just 1110ved away frOl11 us, disappeared down the exits out of the bullring, and we Inanaged to push

22

WHEN

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DISGRACE

through the exuberant crowd and work our way toward the street. ()utside the plaza, people were laughing and joking and slapping each other on the back. I pushed Ruth just ahead of me, trying to protect her with my anns, when the Inass of idiotic humanity between us and the limousine suddenly parted like the Red Sea. And I quickly saw why~ Both Ramon and Guillermo had spotted us and, waving their .3 8s, they cut a swath through the revelers as if they were sickles through a wheat field. They were shouting a lot of words in Spanish at the top of their lungs, and the scurrying crowd was paying a lot of attention. They lifted Ruth into the back seat, sort of threw Ine in, and then slamlned the door. I couldn't believe it when Ruth burst out laughing. "It was wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" she got out between her fits of humor and gasping for breath. She finally settled down enough to see my dazed expression and waited for Guillenno to straighten the car off down the street and head for hOlne. "You didn't understand a word he said, did you?" "Who said?" "Garza! He told that bunch he'd read their filth on his house and on his car. And that he knew they'd been calling him a coward. But for them to go home and get down on their knees and thank The Virgin of Guadalupe that they had seen him torear today." She burst into another fit of laughter before she Inanaged to continue. "And then, concerning his lack of valor, he said it was high tilne for all of them to finally know the truth, that if he took off his jockstrap, there'd be eggs all over the bullring!" **********

Tom, with Mercedes, joined Ruth and nle later for a Chinese "banquet" at Ruth's home. Her chef was an ancient maricon, sort of a pixie who was the "Mother Superior" of Ruth's flock of servants. Tom had Inentioned sOl1lething about "loving Oriental cuisine," and one of the other servants nlust have overheard. So the dinner was a surprise, even to Ruth. She laughed and told us that we both were having a great effect on her staff, which made us proud but a little nervous. Ruth brought the old man out from the kitchen, introduced hiITI as a genius at his trade, and warned us to notify her secretly if we had any further preferences in international cooking, or we'd be subjected to another "banquet" representing the country mentioned. "Flor Vieja" (his name was Ancient Flower) just stood there and giggled. Although Ruth spoke to us in English, he understood there was honest affection in her words about him and you just couldn't help liking the little fella. Most of the evening was spent on discussing the afternoon's bullfight. 1'he radio blared that it had been a major scandal, a social catastrophy, and that "Lorenzo el Magnifico" had been fined 5,000 pesos by the bullring authorities

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and thrown in jail. Ruth's experiedced sunlInation of what really happened was Iny first lesson in Nlexican philosophy, and-over the years-it was going to C0111e in Inighty handy. Garza had been fantastic! There was no doubt about that. But his ilnprornptu speech had individually insulted a good nUlllber of the "shady-side" spectators. 'fhcy paid a great deal for their seats, and a few of theln had been joined by their 11link-coated wives. People didn't discuss their "eggs" in front of ladies in those days. Hell, even in the United States, Clark Gable had just been allowed to say "dalnn." At any rate, forget all the ears and tails the Inatador had cut this glorious afternoon. All those wives in attendance had been verbally abused, and their husbands had to see to it that Lorenzo the ~lagnificent would be properly punished. Ruth concluded that Garza was probably out of jail and hOlne in bed before it got dark. And the 5,OOO-peso fine was a ll1ere pittance COlllpared to what he had been paid for his six-bull perforIllance. But now the "offended" \\Iives of the gentiell1en on the "shady side" could feel honorably placated, and all was well in lV1exico (~ity. \\Tell, I guess I could understand all that. "But," I questioned, "how could that one lady slap her husband-a full general-in front of all those people?" I loved to hear Ruth laugh. It was like bell ll1usic. "That fine lady," she explained, "is the first cousin of The President. She can slap anyone she chooses except, tnaybe, El Presidente hinlself. Anyway, she's probably been \\raiting a long tinlC for an excuse. He spends a lot of tinle at 'Ruth's.'" rIC)ll1 took the keys to the La Salle, and he and lV1ercedes went off on their own. I stayed all night again at the house, but without the benefit of the Inariachis. Still, even in that sensational lady's arnlS, I couldn't force Illy thoughts away fn)]l1 what I had witnessed that afternoon. Never had any single event Illade such an illlpression. Perhaps it was because the art of the bullring was so dangerous. ()r perhaps it was because it was so dalllned l11edieval. As a callow youth I'd always 1 I saw In . "L IM . 'l1lgh ts. "M 1 ay)e orenzo t lC agnl. f~]cent "h t e resurrectIon p Iayc( l at "k' of King Arthur, or Lancelot, or El Cid. '-

1

**********

I sat in the darkened Regis theater and watched the lnagic of Don Lorenzo Ciarza unfold on the screen frolll eight different calnera angles. Ruth had telephoned the hox office to see exactly what tinle the newsreel of the corrida would be shown and I arrived there fifteen Ininutes early. So had five hundred other afidOllados and I was lucky to get a seat. The oles fro In the theater crowd drowned out the narrator's voice, and what I saw again was now easier to understand. The Hlllagnificent" one was truly I1lagnificent. Fro In the low calnera angles I could see the hull's horns pclSS 111uch closer to the lnatador's legs and chest than I had

24

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reIneInbered, scant inches away . froIn diselnbo\veling' hiln. And he never lost his grace or COlnposure, which sho\\red 1l1e that he was confidently in control of every 1110ve-every pass. \\lhen the ten Ininutes of filtn ended, ahnost the entire audience got up and walked out of the theater. An Italian 1110vie was to follow the (0"rida and nobody gave a dalnn about that. Most especially ll1e, as I now hurried to the Banos Regis to find Iny traveling cOlnpanion. I had definitely lnade up Illy Inind as to what I intended to do and T"holn3s should certainly be the first to kn()\v. ""''hat do you Inean, you want to be a bullfighter?" He was a little shaken, but what upset Ine the Inost was that he was hig'hly ~Hnused. I said my piece-in no uncertain terIns. I was going to cash in Illy ticket around South Alnerica, stay in Mexico City, and knock Inyself out trying to le~un the art of t{(uronu/cbill. '}0111 was certainly aware of Iny .lthletic prowess .lnd IllV passionate desire to excel in everything I undertook. "s 0, " h ' d ,Vel)' serIOUs . Iy," w hat 1'f you get a I10rn up your ass!". . " e sal "C)vercolning danger is ,vhat it's all about. I'll live through it." "Christ, you could get yourself killed. How're you going to live throllg'h tbtlt?" "I'll take Iny chances, TOln. It'll be a long titHe before I ever face ,1 re,ll live bull and I intend to know what I'Ill doing by then. Ruth knows every torero in Mexico. She'll arrange for 111e to Ineet theln all. \\'110 else is ever going to get a shot at SOl1lcthing like this?" "-

•

•

L-

Tbl11 stood up frol11 the wooden bench and wrapped the big towel around his waist. The fact that Illy garrulous pal didn't say one lnorc word as he headed for the showers frankly upset Inc. I followed hinl for a nUlnbcr of steps, then figured I'd better hit hin1 quick with S01l1e infonnation I was certain he'd enjoy. "Ruth wants us both to 1110Ve into the house." 'T(un spun around. "For what? l-lell, I'lll sure not going to fight hulls! \Vhat do I do after I cash in tny ticket, sit up in the stands and yell ole! for you?" "Ruth intends to 1110Ve Mercedes in with you-as long as you want to stay." At seven sharp that evening Ralnon and C;uilIerIno arrived to help us lllove out of the l-lotel Regis. VVhen we stopped at the desk to pay our hill, there was no debt. Everything had been taken care of and I was genuinely clnbarrassed. "(~onsider it Mexican hospitality," TOln offered. Hyou know the expression-Mi casa es .I'll {{I.ra. Hell, at the rate you're going, you 11light end lip with a whole string of 'houses. '" I hit hill1 hard-on the ann.

********** The following two weeks raced by as if each day was in a huny to end so th~lt another one could start right away. Ruth kept her prolnise to have Ine Ineet the

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toreros, and she did it in a typically Ruth D'Laurage classy way. She, personally, introduced rr<>111 and lIlt: to "C:acho" Peralta who owned the Hotel Regis. Senor Peralta was also the E1J/preJo of EI Tareo and controlled Mexican bullfighting. He was a jolly character, hit the bottle pretty hard, and took a fancy to Ine. He'd seen ~l couple of Arnerican football garnes, thought they were unusually rough and dangerous, and considered Ine a courageous young 111an for having participated. But Ruth, (;od love her, didn't want Illy introductions to be involved with our (I guess vou'd c,lll it) afL1ir. So "Cacho" Peralta was the one who introduced me to C;eneral l\1axilnino C:alnacho, the brother of Avila Calnacho-the President of l\1exico. Now, General Maxinlino controlled eve1ything in his brother's country, sOlne thought even his brother. The general was an aficionado colorado-a redblooded, all-out bullfight fan, and he was intrigued with the idea of an Anlerican athlete actually wanting to beC01l1e a torero. At the time I never considered that he also Inight have been intrigued with the thought of an Atnerican athlete getting hill1sclf killed. But he was the only 111an in Mexico who had the power to "suggest" to Don Lorenzo Ciarza that he Blight take a few Ininutes away fronl his bride and the bulls to I1lake Iny hUlnble acquaintance, and perhaps even help me. ""!ell, you Inay have seen silllilar "suggestions" in Francis Ford Coppola's (;()({iilfbcrs 1 and 11, and Don Lorenzo, "The Magnificent," went out of his way to arrange Iny introduction. I will never forget the shock of that first Ineeting. I use the word "shock" instead of dis:lppointlllent because no one Ineeting Don Lorenzo Garza could ever be disappointed. But the great lnatador wasn't seven feet tall as I had suspected. (Ie stood closer to five-feet-eight. And, in his street clothes, he was anything hut Ill
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0

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"Carnicerito," Luis Castro-"EI Soldado"; and finally, even the true ]naestroFennin Espinosa-"Annillita." l'he ITIorning I was introduced to hinl he was accotnpanied by a young 71ovillero. A llovillero is a bullfighter not yet ordained as a full-fledged '1llotador de toros. The best way to describe the tertn in English is to cOlnpare hinl to a very professional intern who can actually handle operations but still has not received his license as a doctor. Novilleros usually fight slnaller, younger bulls, but lTIany of thenl have been killed before they ever had a chance to becoIne fortnal '111atadorcs. Well, the young fellow with the Inaestro was IV1exico's hot new prospect. He was altnost assured of heing able to take the a/terlllltivII to become a fonnallnatador the following season in EI 'Iorco. 'rhe ajici()}lIu/os prophesied a brilliant future for hiln. I--Ie and I got along inl111cdiately as he was going to the University of Mexico and learning English. I-Ie was a cute-looking, skinny kid with a big gold tooth right s111ackdab up front. I-lis nalne was C~arlos Arruza. Now the reason I have mentioned "two weeks" was that those fourtecn days encolnpassed the tiIne liInit of l()In 's relnaining visit in Mexico. \\'e had discussed ITIy decision at great length to pennanently alter the plans of our trip, and' 1()111 understood and had no hard feelings. I-Ie was already a licensed airplane pilot, ~1IH.1 he would now return for lllore serious training at Kelly Field in San Antonio, Texas. TOln had been stnart, after his graduation froln C:ulver, and had received his second lieutenant's c0111n1ission in the United States Ann)' Reserve. Ife advised ll1e, dead seriously, that our country was going to be involved in another World War before very ]11uch longer. A fortune teller in Los Angeles, a l\1rs. IIill, had told hiIll that he would be in unifonn within (1 year. And nine 1110nths of that year had already passed. At any rate, nly learning to to'!"e,,'!" brought us closer together than we had ever been before. I had kept our guide, Victor, on salary to translate for Ine. None of the Inajor tm'cro.\' spoke onc word of English ~lnd Illy knowledge of Spanish still included only ten words, starting with adios. \\'ell, believe Ine, Victor was in heaven being paid for Incrcly saying in English: HS enor Budd, Don Lorenzo says to hold your cape 111uch lower and to swing your body froIn the hips." Tonl kidded that tnaybe Victor would precede llle into the bullring as he was learning everything first. Victor, however, assured us tbllt would never happen. But, quite surprisingly, 'lC)lll was learning too. \Vc never S;lV,' Ruth or Mercedes during the day and Ton1 was there next to lne during all the daylight hours. He purchased a 16nll11 canlera and photographed Illy every I110ve. SOlnewhere, possibly even today in C;rosse Point or Detroit, is a full photographic account of an aillbitious gringo learning the basics of tareD. Ruth, of course, was wonderful. During dinner, and later, we discussed Illy problen1s in learning such a difficult and foreign art. She l1lade sug'gestions and was always willing to listen. In the very beginning I had no idea just how busy she was. I had Inet business tycoons through Iny fat11ily and their friends, hut I'd never

27

CHAPTER

ONE

1l1tt one who was a lady. Ruth had businesses everywhere. But she never let her prohlcrlls interfere with Inine. However, one late afternoon TOll1 and I Illade a big rnistake. l(Hll thought it a good idea to, personally, show llle 111)' lady's prilne establishrllent and I agreed. "Tell, "Ruth's" turned out to be even 1l10re than I expected. I twas sinl3tcd in the center of ~\1exico City's lnost exclusive residential district. 'The Illassi\'e graystone Inansion was surrounded by a ten-foot-high Inatching stone wall, behind which a cobblestone walk led through a Ineticlliously rnanicLlred tlower garden to the pillared front porch. Once inside, I was even Illore illlpressed. 'rhe downstairs ceilings \vere nventy feet above the Inarble fl{)()rs~ Italian sculprurc fonned the elaborate corner stones and the furnishings were fit for roy.llty. But what piqued tny attention the 1110st \\'as the guests' coatrOOlll, \\,here an arrav of expensive revolvers had been carefully placed and identically Ilulnhcred ~llongside their owners' hats. '1'0111 knew all the girls and took great delight in introducing Ine. 11()\\'c\'cr, it Illade Ille quite uncolnfortahle, as all the ladies of the night (and ~lftcrn()on) sure as hell knew just who I \,\ras. I suddenly felt like sOlneone's private property, cornpletely "off litnits" to the rest of the world. I resented that and was naive enough to 111ention it to Ruth that night at the dinner table. \,Vell, I'd never secn her angry. ()f course, I should have known better as you certainly don't get that powerful by just being sweet. Anyway, she put down her fork and looked a hole in tne fro111 across the table. Her eyes were suddenly coal black, even the white parts. L

""'"

\....

'--

ILIf I'd wanted you to visit there, darling, I'd have taken you there Illyself." And sorllcthing happened to Inc. ·'If I had known you felt this way," I said, very slowly, "I'd have nlost certainly suggested it. Ruth, I don't need another Illother!" '['here was an intcrrninahle 1110Illcnt of silence. Then Ruth said ole! and went hack to her dinner. \\"ell, I'd slIre as hellrnade a point, hut I was dcterrnined never to upset her ;lgain. Not because I was afraid of her wrath, hut because she was so a ll-o\'cr wonderful. '1(>111 turned out to bc SOllleonc

I'd never actually known before. I had

thought of hiln as a pbyboy, a spoiled, good-looking brat who always got what and whorll he wanted. Still, during those two weeks I CaIne.to know hinl as sensitive, ;lnd caring-, and-we1l, a g-ood and close friend, not just an ex-claSslllate or traveling corllpaniol1. lIe was scared to death about Iny new choice of professions, as he was certain I'd be killed by the first bull I faced. I assured hiln everybody dies and to relax. Four (bys after we said goodbye at the airport, an internation~l telephone call C~lInc through for 111e at Ruth's. It was TOln's brother, Richard, calling frol1l [)ctrnit. -nun had ;In accident while taking off in his own plane on a routine flight. .. and he was dead.

2H

WIIE~

1;-...;

DISCRACL

I thanked Richard for calling as if nothing had happened, then hung up the phone and walked upst~1irs to sit on the bed th~lt '1()111 JIld .\lercedes h~HI shared. And then I started to cry. SOInehow I sensed that Ruth W~lS standing in the doorway, but still I couldn't stop sobbing. I tried to rCI11cIllher the very bst til1H~ I h~HI shed ~1 tear, but I couldn't. It was too long 'lgO. I did relnelnbcr th;n I had heen ashalned of crying-whenever it W~lS. But I W~1sn't .1shalned of it now. Looking up, I discovered th~lt Ruth was still standing therc watching l11e, not .It ;111 clnbarrassed for Ine, just waiting for ~1n expbn~ltion. '''1()I11 got hilllself killed in his airplane," I said. She nodded, turned and w;llked off down the st;lirs. '1'hen, \'Cry II nexpected Iy, I SLl rted to Sh;l ke. I t was as if I were slldd~n h· freezing, and I knew it was fe;)r. ;\le, ,~rr(/id.' I couldn't believe it. I tried t() rationalize that I was afraid for 'I()1l1, or his Ill()ther, or .... 'I'he hell I \\';1S. I \\,;lS suddenly terrified for tnyself. I didn't want to die~ (;()d, th:11 was sc1fish. But it W;lS truc. l(nn, \\'ho had c\'crythi ng in th is world to Ii\'c for, h~lll just hcen ki lied. ,\ 'hy? II e sure as hell \vasn't looking for tbllf.' But I was ..\ly own ego was going to put tlle in the bullring with ,1ninl,1Is who could destro\,. IllC. (;()od (;od, here I was frightened about 'I}~)' life-when I'd just lost one of nly hest friends. \ \rh~lt .1 S()n()f;lhitch~ I by down on Iny back and literally forced those thoughts out of In~' Illind, But they flashed hack. I couldn't stop thelll. '1 llrning over OIl Illy s\olllach, I ground Illy fingernails into the bedspread. I was d~l1nned if I W;1S going to 11l()\'C :lnothcr inch until I got hold of IllYsclf. And I lay still like th:1t .. .for:1 long, long titlle. Mercedes just went to pot. Ruth spent three hours with her ~lt the h()spiLll before they could straighten her out enough to hring her hOlne. I guess .\ lercctil's taught nle a Jot about real wOlllen's enH)tions. liCIT W;lS ;1 pr()stitlltl'-~l "hooker"-who really loved Iny pal. I had no idea. I wondered whether '(CHll\ real sweetheart in St. Louis had been that greatly Ino\'Cd. Ruth knew I w;lnled to he alone, so she arranged a weeklong business trip to P;1ris. And she: took ,\lercedL's with her. 1()Jll'S nl0ther cal1ed Ine ri gh t a fter the fu ner~11. It was the: s~ltne cult II red voice I had learned to respect when she had visited 'l()(n at schoo\. She h~ld heen a widow for years and I knew her as the "hoss." F~lcts were facts for J\1rs. Joy ~1Ild. although I knew she was dying inside, her tone was well Illodui:ltcd .1ntl strictly to the point. "()scar," she began, "1'111 sure rrhoInas understood that you just couldn't he here. But you really should have seen hiln. I Ie looked so handsollle. You know, we buried hiln in his C:ulver uniforn1." I grahbed the chair next to the telephone so th~lt Iny knees wouldn't buckle. "C;ood C;od!" I said out loud. . The fortune teller fron1 Los Angeles had heen right~ ~

29

Cll.-\PTER

O:\E

**********

Ruth stayed in Paris for ten days. The lady never I1lade a wrong 1110ve. She understood that I needed to be alone, that she could be absolutely no help to Ille at that tilne, "lnd she was so right. C;etting Iny life back into perspective was SOlnething I had to do, now, all by 111yself. \"nat shocked I11e 1110St was the realization that I had been cOlllpletely satisfied by the \,vay Life had treated ll1e. lIell, talk .lbour 'j()l1l being spoiled. I was just as conlplacently oblivious to everything that was transpiring around Ine-if it didn't concern Iny own happiness and welfare. \ \'ell, the first few days of that horrible week \vere spent in serious self-recrinlination. I rClninded rnyself a thousand titnes that if I hadn't decided to follow a whinl and try to becolne, of all things, a bullfighter, TOlll would still be alive. And we'd be on a luxury liner on the way around South AInerica. I guess everyone involved in a personal tragedy thinks of all the "ifs" and takes lnasochistic delight in blaIlling hilnsclf for everything. vVcll, that had to stop. I had nothing to do with l()In'S death. It was Fate. And, (ialnn it, froln now on I would believe that: ~~vVhat is to be will be." I was detcnnined to guide Iny future onto an intelligently planned, str~lightforwanl tnlck. And if C;od thought I was doing a good job at it, then I figured lie Blight let Ille hang around a while to enjoy it. I didn't practice at EI 10reo for an entire week. I was very concerned as to what the toreros' attitude would be when I returned. Here were Illen dealing with death on il constant hasis, and I had shacked up with Illy own sorrow for seven long days of Illourning. \Vell, they were wonderful. Every one of 111Y new torero friends was filled with cornpassion and unuerstanding and appreciative of Iny deep reillorse. IIere were 1l1en in the Inost dangerous profession in the world: hard and cynical, llnd fatalistically inclined to accept dreadful fortune. But Luis (:astro, "El Soldado," the toughest of the lot, set Inc straight. "We have all learned to cry," he said sirnply. ul\;o l11al1 should be asharned of that." Learning to fon:Il1' was by far the rllost frustrating endeavor of Iny athletic career. Bullfighting is not based on l11llscles. Agility, of course, and foot-speed when it hecoilles necessary, but the art of tflur071l1lchia has three Inaxil11S of technique: to p(/rtn~ stand still and cabnly watch the bull corne; to l1Ul1ultn~ Inake the hull ohcy the cloth-dolninatc hinl with it, and tC7JlP/fl1; 1l10Ve the cape or 11l1detll slo\\'ly, calrnly and suavely, giving a rhythnl to the action of the nlan and bull. I want to tell you, an AIl1Crican athlete is really a fish out of water during his early training in the bullring. Everything I'd ever done in sports was powerful, or lightning-fast or evasive. And Inos! of that W~lS usually accolnplished in a hurry. I loved the first rt.!t)uisite: "Stand still and calrnly let the bull cOllle." (:oll1e where-straight into Illy belly? "'hen you're holding a cape for the first tiIne, looking off at a sIl1all boy who is carrying a set of hull's horns to rush at you, it gives you pause. I had a kid

30

\'\' I l E ;\

I

~

DIs (; R :\ (: F

playing the "bull" for Ine who was the Inost serious 12-yc,lr-old I'd ever known. I Ie sharpened the points of the horns so that when he "gored" 1l1e in the leg;s I would learn and relnenlber that bulls can be injurious to your health. I \\'ould dreanl about that little bastard night after night. Also, even 1l10re ilnportant than Iny daily training, Illy lifestyle had changed dranlatically. I decided to keep Iny car in Ruth's garage and walk to and frolH the bullring each day. I didn't need to he a rich gringo perhaps taking a shot at hullfighting as a lark. And I was living a lie to Illy parents for the very first tinlC. When I spoke with Iny nlother the night I learned of '1()111 's 'lccicient, she was confused as to why she and dad hadn't been able to reach Inc ~lt thc Regis. I told her that I was staying with a friend, at least for clwhilc, and th,lt there W~lS no telephone. Then I was illllncdiately concerned enough to rent a singh! rOOlll b,l(:k at the hotel, and requested the desk to take all Illy calls. I would check hack with the switchboard each night. The head desk clerk said he'd he delighted and would even go out of his way to l11ake Iny very elnpty r00l11 sceln occupied, for a slllall gratuity. So I learned about "gratuities" in Mexico. 'rhe slang expression in Spanish is 1110rdidn (the "bite"), and if you stay there long enough, your hody and your wallet will look as if you've been attacked by a giant SW~lrlll of killer •

L

Inosqultos. Anyway I worked harder th,ln I ever thought possihle. And I read evcrything' about bulls and bullfighting I could find in English. Ruth bought 111e a n:ritahle library of Spanish books on the art, and she and good old Victor supplied 1l1e with daily translations of these tllurine bibles. 'fhen, very unexpectedly, I g
3I

CIIAPTER

ONE

look like ballet dancers just for cosllletic purposes, or so that they're I1l0re appealing in their tight-tItting pants. "The heavier the Inan, the bigger the hole," Iny new pals loved to tell nle. \\-'hen bulls gore, they spin you on their horns. \Vhat looks like a reasonable puncrure in your thigh or your rump is usually two or three tillles larger when the doctor cuts you open to clean the wound. Well, I got a hig one the third tillle I faced a l1ovil/o-a three-year-old bull. When I woke up in the hospital directly across the street from El Toreo, the first people I saw were a doctor and two nurses. I couldn't feel anything, well-anything but embarrassIllent as they were peering between Iny parted legs at the deep goring in my rump. 'rhe doctor said J.\-tll}' gl'flve! and the two nurses nodded. I was beginning to progress with Iny Spanish and I understood the doctor. "Very dangerous," to say the least, was very disconcerting! I couldn't sit up. And I couldn't turn away. And I certainly wasn't comfortable looking at them looking up into Iny bowels. So I closed nly eyes and tried to rClllernher just what had happened. What I managed to "bring back" wasn't hazy or out of focus. It was just plain durnb. I had actually tried to impersonate Lorenzo in one of his spectacular kneeling passes with the muleta. I hadn't been gored by the first tossing when the hull's right horn had caught me under Iny knee and cartwheeled nle onto the sand. But the shock of hitting the ground headfirst had dazed met and I renlained in that awkward position-head down, rear end waiting-as the elated animal turned to take dead aim. Christ, I hadn't been in exactly that position sincc Iny first nurse gave me an enenla. Of course, the result was just the saine, but the injection was the left horn of a bull, and I went riding across the hullring. It didn't hurt! Thaes what I remelnbered most. It did feel hot down there. But it didn't hurt. Then I remetnbered a lot of pink capes swirling to Iny rescue, and things went black. I also remelnbered that, right then and there in the hospital, I wished I was back in the bullring and things were just black, because, now, everything-including my teeth-ached. I felt as if I had been run over hy a herd of starnpeding elephants-twice. I also remember that "come to" nlOl11cnt vividly. I wondered if I'd live. And then, because I'd never experienced such all-over pain, I really didn't give a dalnn. But, in a weird way of thinking, that accident was ilnportant to me. Now, I had finally joined the group. It was sort of like an aviator getting his "wings." When a new young star comes along in Mexico or Spain, the experienced matadors slnile and say: uWell, let's wait until he gets gored." Many times, after serious gorings, young toreros enter law school, or buy a small shop and go into business. ()f course, I was a bit disappointed that the new "hole" wasn't visible in my leg like rllost everybody else's. \\Then I wanted to brag about Iny survival, I had to ask Iny adtnircrs to "step into the Inen's room." Then, just when I knew I was truly getting somewhere, I got the first urgent

32

WHEN

IN

DISGRACE

call from mother. She had learned what I was doing and wasn't about to Inake it any easier for me. Naturally she had understood why I had canceled the trip. Tom's death had been a terrible shock to me. But, bullfighting! Really! "'hat would her friends think? And by this time you should know tha t Georgia Boetticher was a very clever and determined lady. She could hold back the coup de grace until it was absolutely necessary. "If you don't stop this disgraceful behavior and come home inl1nediately, your father and I will discontinue any further financing of your vacation. We mean this, Oscar!" Now, when either of my folks called me Oscar, instead of their pet name of Budd, I knew I was in serious trouble. But, this tiIne, I handled it like a torero. "Fine, mother, do as you wish. I'll get along." And I hung up. God damn, that felt good! I sold the La Salle only six days later, because nothing-absolutely nothing-was going to stop me now! My decision to sell the La Salle was not just intelligent planning for the future. It was a brilliant business transaction. Ruth knew a fat little politician who was losing a host of constituents. She convinced hilTI that if his doubting followers saw him driving around in my new, bright yellow convertible, he'd be a shoo-in at the coming election. So he "begged" me out of the car for ahnost double its original price. And immediately the physical agony of my training becalne fun again, as I could now afford to take my lady "out on the town." We went everywhere together, thankfully at my expense, and I didn~t feel like an unpaid gigolo anymore. We spent the evenings at the theater, or sOlnetilnes at rOlnantic Xochimilco's floating gardens. Occasionally we went to the Hipodrolllo to watch the races, and Sundays were always reserved for El Toreo. But never did we visit "Ruth's" or a nightclub. I was really in love. And it wasn't just sex, or the chance that I was being blinded by the sheer abundance of everything Ruth was Illaking possible because of her honest affection for me. d grown up enough since I had arrived in Mexico to understand this delicate situation in a Inature way. Facts were facts. I adored her; it was temporarily real, but I also knew it couldn't last. Twenty years-or whatever the difference in our ages was-well, it was just too Inuch to expect any good to come of it. And, when the proper tilne arrived, I'd be Inan enough to explain it to her. In the meantime ... When I checked my telephone calls at the Regis, there had been one froln California. The lady who called had said that I knew the nUlnber. I sure as hell did! Mother and I discussed the Blood and Sand thing at great length. I told her I was happy in Mexico and had no intentions of rerurning to the states. She assured me that both she and Dad were proud of my new independent attitude, but missed me with all their hearts and "most importantly" the position at Fox would

r

33

CIIAPTER

O~E

only he a tCll1porary thing. Just as I was about to say "no" for the final time, I heard Illy father's voice. "Georgia, I'd like to say hello to Budd, and I'd appreciate it if you'd allow us to speak in private." 'There was a lengthy pause as I knew she was leaving the rOOlTI. I was sure ,\'1other understood her Inarriage vows, and she did "obey" Dad now and then when the rcq uest caugh t her fancy. "Son," Dad began, "I don't very often step in between you and your mother. But, this tilne, I'd appreciate the favor she asked for 1}!e," "~I'· or )'0/1, D 3C1"''' :' H()scar, your Inother has been having S0I11e problems. The last tilne the two of you spoke, well, I thought we were going to lose her. If she wants you to 111ake that appoinnnent at the srudio, for Ute, cOlne up here and take your best shot at it. ()kay?" "Yes, sir," I said. And I Ineant it. I ncver really knew Illy dad until he \vas well into his eighties. He was fifty \\'hen I was born: sclf-Inade, successfully tough and hard as nails. He had never understood Inc and I kept my distance. But I respected hinl. Boy, did I respect hitn! It would he Illany years before I got smart enough to love hinl. But two days latcr I was on the plane to Los Angeles. **********

'rhe plane trip frotll Los Angeles to Mexico City had been a nerve-racking expericnce but, as I settled into the back seat of the taxi for the long trip to Ruth's, I dis('ovcred I ",'as even Inore upset by the problelns which now confronted 111e. I had just accepted ~l job that was going to take Ine to Hollywood and Spain for a long, IOllg tilHe. 'rhe trip had been a huge success, as far as Mother was concerned. But, ho",' was I going to explain this to the wonderful friends who had trusted Ille and believed in Iny sincere desire to becollle a tore1"o? \\That in the hell \\-'as 1 going to tell "Arrnillita," and Lorenzo, and the others at EI Toreo? How was I going to explain to those professionals that I got the position as "Technical ()ircctor" Illercly because I could speak English, and Inake a few fancy passes with the cape and lilli/eta, and had only one-hundredth of their knowledge of the bulls? Naturally, 'l\\'cntieth C:cnrury-Fox couldn't afford the maestro or Garza even during their off-season, hut one of the 1'1oviIJeros like Carlos Arruza was certainly 1l1uch (nore suited for the job. I sure as the devil wasn't going to tell thenl the truth of the very first thing I had learned about the ITIotion picture business: It isn't what you know-it's \VI10 you know. I figured Hal Roach's call to Darryl F. Zanuck tnight have helped a little. Now, Ruth would understand. She understood everything. But I was disap-

3-l

V\'IIEr'\

l~

01S(;RA(:F

pointed and hurt that Ralnon and C;uillenno didn't tneet Ine at the plane. ()f course, the Hight had been extreillely late, but I thought they would have waited. I renlell1bered that I lllade it very clear I was taking the night Hight when I spoke to Ruth froln the house. Ciood Ciod! I sat up straight in Iny scat. No one h'1(1 been hOllle when I telephoned. I had Inade very sure about that. But, Jesus, that was stupid! 1'\0 ..\1other would never stoop to that. I twas 2: 15 in the Inorning when the taxi dropped 111e off at the hOllse. I let Illyself in with Iny own key, but the hedroolll was clnpty. And there ".'as no note-nothing. I sat on the bed for a long, long tilne trying to pull Illy thoughts together; then I telephoned for another cab. 'rhe street in front of Ruth's 1l1ain establishlllent was lined with Elncy ;1utotnobiles and long black lilllousines when Illy taxi let 111e out at the Inain gate. 'I'he liveried chauffeurs who \vere standing around in tight little groups stopped ch~lt­ ting and watched 111e as I stepped to the night-bell and pushed the button. 'l'hey'd oln'iously heen there a long tilnc and nlost of thenl h;1<.1 been drinking heavily. 'rhere was no need to worry about their bosses. 'l'he J11usic and bughtcr CI11;ln;1Iing frolll inside the house ;lssured theln all that none of the guests would return to their cars cold soher. Fortunately, the servant who caIne to the gate recognized Inc froJll Iny earlier visit with 'I()lll. I followed hilll up the cobblestone w,llk with the increasing desire to turn around and get the hell out of there, hut it was too late. Ruth spottcd Ine in the doorway the 11linute I stepped into the house. She WilS sitting ;H ;1 table with the Illatador, Alberto Balderas, and four political-looking charactcrs I illll11edi.llely didn't like. Spotting Iny irritated expression frolH clcar .lcross the rOOIH, she excused herself fronl her guests and hurried to nlcet 111e. "\/Velc0I11e honle, darling," she said. ·'Coille in and join the party." "I didn't know there was going to hc .1 parry, Ruth." She slniled. "It's for Illy birthday." "Ruth, your birthday is a week frotn Saturdav." "It's a s~lI'prise party: honey. 1\1any of these g~ntlelllen ~lre po/ificw', ;tnd a week frol11 Saturday they will be calnpaigning all over 1\:1exico." I wanted to say: "Shit!" hut 1 thought hetter of it. But 111)' expression IllUSl have said it for Inc. ~'Relax, darling. 'rherc was no way for you to know. I didn '{ find out about their plans until this Inorning. (:onle on in. You'll like SCHne of these people." I looked around, and wondered if I would. (=~rtainlv J\;lexico's Hl.lle-elite W~lS in attendance: politicians, busincsslllcn, socialites, hank'crs-cveryonc of illlportanee who wasn't "out of town." T'hrce toreros nodded to 1l1C frolll the har, hut I couldn't renlelllber their nanles. Finally: "Ruth-I'nl dead tired." I tried to slnilc. "I just couldn't stand one 1110J11ent

35

CIJ.-\PTFR

O~E

of fun. I've-I've got to get saIne sleep." She looked up at Ine with those black, black eyes for a long moment. "Sweetheart," she finally said, Hdon't be upset. This is what I do." UI'nl not," I lied. HLook, I'll stay at the Regis. After tonight, you'll need your seep I too. " U\\11atever you say. Ramon and Guillermo are asleep in the car. Have then1 drive YOli to the hotel." And she tiptoed up to kiss me on the lips, then turned to walk back to her table. r \\'3tched her for a Inoment more as she rningled with the guests. They \vere all attractive, well-dressed gentlenlen, but the sight of her surrounded by all those bastards 111ade nle sick at my stomach. Turning away, I headed for the inside parking space in search of the "boys," but I hadn't taken ten steps before a horrible thought struck 1l1e. Ruth hadn't even asked Ine if I'd got the job. I Inade a point of 110t telling her over the phone. I wanted it to be a surprise. Now the sickening feeling in Iny guts hit rock bonoln. Sure as hcll her nunlber had been traced and she'd already had the pleasure of rneeting C;eorgia. I slept fitfully in Illy Regis single rOOI11 until two in the afternoon. DaInn it, Illy beautiful rnother was not a "bad" person. She was just spoiled enough to .1lways dClnand "her way" and Dad didn't have the tilne or the inclination to be hothered about that. Everything IHy mother did was absolutely correct in her Illind. She loved Ine-to death-and protected me with her life, whether I liked it (or even knew about it) or not. She was a lioness protecting her young but, hell, I hacln?t been a "cuh" for years. All of this would have been easy for nle to handle if I didn't give a darnn. But I really loved her even as meddlesome and overbearing as she was because, when she wanted to be cute, and fun, and clever, she was absolutely adorable. 'rhe prohlem was she rationed ITIOst of that good stuff as far as I was concerned and had driven Inc crazy for years with her Ineddling. Well, when I got horne I'd handle this new debacle with grace. Maybe she did have a "heart prohlcln." She called it "angina pectoris." I'd looked it up and it sounded serious, so I couldn't take a chance. An)'\\'ay, she Inay have done me a favor, because the siru;uion with Ruth was sotnething I didn't know how to handle. And I certainly wasn't looking forward to that evening. There was a Inessage at the desk. The "boys" would he hy at seven. I found hoth "Armillita" and Lorenzo at their homes. They were sensational, both cOlllplctely understanding and delighted with my good forrune. Ferrnin was funny. I Ie reminded me that he, Fermin Espinosa-"Armillita"-was the true Nllll1CrO Uno-the Number One-but that recently both "Chucho" Solorzano and C;arza had starred in movies, and now he had been-at least in the eyes of the 111otion picture audience-relegated to the NUlnero Tres position. He hinted that

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if the folks involved 'with Blood (Jut! Sand decided to filrn in l\1exico instead of Spain, he'd appreciate a shot at doubling "1\1r. Power." I pn>Inised hiln I'd stay right on top of that. Boy, I arrived in Mexico as a gringo athlete 'lIlti now I was the "agent" for the best bullfighter in the world. **********

vVhen I stepped down into the sunken living rOOI11, Ruth wasn't seated under the Ruano Llopis bullfight painting. She sat to one side of tht gi.lnt fireplace beneath a sensitive Inasterpiece by Siqueiros: a subdued oil of a little girl-crying. At her feet \vas a broken doll. Jesus, this W~lS going to be even tougher than I ilnagined. But I had to suppress a slnile. Under these saine CirCUll1SUnCes, Illy 1110ther would have been seated in the identical spot. l)allln, both Illy ladies were good! Neither one ever Inissed a trick. So 1 figured I'd hetter get right to the pOInt. "Ruth," I began, "this has been the 1110st ... " "\A'onderful tinle of Iny life," she finished for nle. "I Inean it. You've given Ille a youth I never had, happiness I'd never really known, and I do love you with all Iny heart." She stood and walked to llle to entwine her fingers at the back of Illy neck. "()scar, you can be anything in this world you want. I just pray that this Illarvelous thing we've shared will help prepare you for whatever future you choose." I started to speak, but she pushed her forehead against Iny lips, then hit Inc with the punch line. "Find yourself a wonderful girl your age who loves you as l11uch as I do :lnd 1 prolnise you happiness as long as you live." ) cleared Illy throat, and hesitated to he certain she had finished. 'I'hen: "I was going to tell you, I accepted that job in I Iollywood. It \\'~lS ilnportanl. ... " "It's l'e?) illlportant," she said softly. wrhat was being ~l Sl11~lrt boy." "We'll 1l1eet ag~1in, Ruth. You know I'll be b'l(:k." "1'111 sure you plan to, Angel," she said. "But we never get what we want the l11ost, so we all just have to do the hest we can." "\Afc did, Ruth. T'here was nothing wrong with what we've had." She siniled. "Nothing at all, Illy love, except C;od's rotten tilHing. Ile arranged for Ine to be only about two years younger than your Il1other." *•********

The flight back to Los Angeles was routine except for lny thoughts ;In
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Illother, I had done the right thing. And I pronlised Inyself that, once Blood ond Stll1d cOlllpleted its fihning, I'd hurry back to Mexico to continue my training, I was certainly aware that no other American had the opportunities afforded me. Just getting to know "Annillita" and Garza were two gigantic strokes of good fornIne. ~J() have theln both as personal Inentors was an opportunity no one should disIniss. I'd return to ,,~cxico just as soon as I could and, one day, take the alte1~­ /ltUi'i}1I to hecolne a fortnal 111t1tndor de tm'os-only the third Anlerican behind I-Iarper Lee and Sidney Franklin. Mother Inet 1l1C at the airport. Dad, as usual, had SOITIe business to attend to. \\'hen we walked out to the new Packard convertible, mother smiled, bowed low and held the driver's-side door open for me. But I stepped around the rear of the C~lr and plopped down in the passenger's seat. Nothing, absolutely nothing, ever fazed that lady. She should have been an actress. Hell, she was! "l~ow silly of Ine," she laughed. "You must be dead tired." I acknowledged, with a grunt, that I was. She turned the key in the ignition and the 1l1otor purred. She didn't speak again until we hit the highway. "Darling, your father and I were very proud of the way you handled yourself down there." She pronounced "down there" as if they were two dirty words. "Oh," I said, "alhout what?" "Well, selling the La Salle for one thing. That was very brave." "'"[hank you." "So, your father and I would like you to have this one as long as you're here. I should never have purchased this con .... " I sat up straight to look across at her. '\\10111, you're dynalnite! But stop manipulating Inc. You're the best-looking Illother in this whole daInn world, but ... " " She ghlnced in the Illirror to snlile at Ine. "Honey, now you're manipulating Ine." "\-Vell, then congratulate nle, Mother," I said, as I leaned across to kiss her on the check, "hecause I learned my lessons froln a 'pro.'"

38

CHAPTER

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Two

'0 BEEN HOME ONLY THREE DAYS WHEN THE STUDIO NOTIFIED j\1E

that my training of Tyrone Power would begin on the following Monday. I was to be at the Power home on Tigertail at ten each Inorning, then report to)o Swerling's office at two in the afternoon. That way, if Mr. Swerling needed some information about the ways of bullfighters and their bulls, I could supply it for him. He was, more or less, following the plot-line of the original version of the Blasco-Ibanez novel, but he had some ideas of his own. I was reading the Los Angeles Times in the living room that Monday Inoming when I overheard Illy parents' voices from the dinette. "Isn't Budd supposed to be at work by ten o'clock?" "He'll be there, Oscar. The studio is sending a lilTIousine to pick hinl up." "They're going to pick hinl up here to take hilTI back to Fox on Pico Boulevard?" "He's going to Mr. Power's home over on Tigertail." "Well, shouldn't he be waiting outside?" "You don't 'wait outside' for a linlousine." There was a long pause before I heard Iny father's voice again. "Let me get this straight. They're sending a chauffeured limousine over here to take him up the hill to Tigertail?" "Every day that he trains with Mr. Power." ''Jesus Christ, Georgia, that stupid studio is going to have to pay that chauffeur four times more a week than they pay Budd." "That's their problem." "It sure as hell is!" My father, as the boss, would have saved the studios Inillions.

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I have ahvays been well aware of the honest fact that if I had seen anyone of thL hundreds of bullfights I\'e witnessed before the alnl0st-perfect one of Don Lorenzo (~arza, I \... ould be writing tirades against the art along the lines of (]e\'dand Alnory. I-Iowever, I would certainly spend a Illuch Illore substantial anHHH1t of tirne srudying Illy subject before I started spitting venonl. There is a great deaJ wrong with the ancient art of HtauroInachia," but there is also beauty and pageantry in\'olvcd if what you see is perfonned by professionals who Inake it a point of honor to always give their best against full-sized, well-bred fighting hulls whose rnain desire is to kill thenl. \Vell, the rnotion picture business is cut froIn the saIne I1101d. Much of it is rotten, and InJny of its nlembers are untalented and dishonorable, involved in what should be a lnajor art only to Jllake a selfish "buck." But those wonderful people who labored passionately on the production of Blood and Sand sho\ved Ine the hest of everything. f\nd halfway through the filming I knew I was hooked. 'rhis period of Illation picture history was Hollywood at its best. There was no Inale star nl0re glarllorous than ~vrone Power. And Ty \vas Inarried to one of the finest ladies who ever graced the screen-the beautiful French actress, Annabella. It was apparent to Jne, during the very first vleek of "bullfight lessons," th.lt Nlrs. Power was the real "power" behind the throne. She, very surreptitiously, guided her handsoIlle husband through that period of his life. And having the opportunity to begin Illy career with a star who was just as all-over nice as his publicists clailned, was 111Y fIrst real break in an industry that doesn't throw a lot of "breaks" in your direction. j\1r. Roubcn l\1al11oulian was a very talented director to sit behind and study. And I discovered very quickly that that was exactly what I was doing, studying hiln with all Illy IlliglH. I-Ie knew precisely what he wanted-to "paint" the Inost artistically beautiful color fihn of that "AcadenlY Award" year. That was all he set out to do. But I, very silently, disagreed with that approach because he didn't seenl to give a dallln ahout his suhject Inatter or whether it was authentic in its story telling or not. lIe was sensitive in his direction of Rita Hayworth and Ty hut disregarded any suggestion that what ~vrone was doing on the screen as a torero was dcvoid of authenticity. I can write this because I was the fella who was paid to Jnakc thesc suggestions. Not-for C;od's sake-to interfere with his conception, hut just to answer his questjons as to what was "right" and what was "wrong." If we had been 1l1aking a baseball picture, I would probably have suggested that, following a well-hit haHt the runner should race to first base instead of third. I-Ialfway through the picture I stopped lllaking suggestions, and finally Mr. Mallloulian began to tolerate Iny presence a trifle. But, dalnn, he was a great talcnt whcn he was directing a scene he understood and cared about. Still, I Inade up rny Blind that if I ever hecarne a director, I'd never have a "technical advisor" on

40

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Iny set. Figuring, quite correctly, that if I hadn't spent the time and energy to personally becon1e an authority on my filtn's subject, I had no right to be the director of that particular picture. Also, thinking back to that glan10rous period, I was thrilled to be involved with such an array of talented stars and featured players. No one was Illore beautiful or sincerely sweet than Rita Hayworth-unless, of course, it was Linda Darnell. On Blood and Sand you could take your pick. And then there was Madallle Nazilnova, wholn Mr. Malnoulian never addressed other than that. And there was Laird Cregar, and John Carradine, and J. Carroll Naish. I've saved Anthony Quinn for last because our forty-plus-year friendship started then. I've always loved rrony for his talent, his sensitivity, and his steadfast desire to be the vcry best he can be in anything he undertakes. It was on Blood ilnd Sand that I got Iny first opportunity to inject sOlnething of Inine into a Jllovie. My real benefactor on the show, \Villianl Koenig, saw Inc dance the tm-ero :\' paso doble in the EI Patio nightclub in Mexico C:ity. It's a doubletin1e step, where the gentlenlan dances the part of the Inatador, while his partner, her arIl1S outspread to fashion horns, plays the part of the bull. It's a lot of fun. All the young folks dance it in the countries featuring bullfighting. Bill Koenig enjoyed what he saw, passed the inforInation on to Mr. Mal1l0ulian, and 1 was requested to show Geneva Sawyer, the studio's lovely assistant dance director, the various 1l10Velllents and she would, in turn, choreograph it f()r a 11lOSt illlportant sequence in the picrure. It rurned out spectacularly: Rita in her flalning-crill1son gown and Tony looking every inch the to 1"f ro, and I was proud to explain to Iny dad that I had a little to do with that. But I'n1 sure he didn't believe 11lC. What shouldn't have surprised 111C, but did, was that in a fihn of this 111agnitude all hell can break loose: people fall in and out of lovc, S01l1C turn lip pregnant, others never speak again. There are lawsuits and cven deaths. It's ~l lot like living on a battleship, except during Illovie-Inaking there arc both Illcn lind WOJllcn involved. And 'fI-IA1"' is the hitch. (~()nsequently, I discovered that a 111otion picture director Illust he prepared to be a doctor, lawyer, intirllatc friend and priest if he's going to keep the Call1eraS rolling on a lengthy scheduled production. You cannot just be involved with your own personal whill1S clnd prohleJlls. You arc the boss and a big picrure is a "War," and-as the general-you are responsihle for your troops against the enelny. And "today's" enclny Inay very well be your financier and your producer. l~he best news to Ine caIne when I learned that we were to fihn all the .lction sequences in Mexico, not Spain. I did get "Annillita" the job of douhling 'Iyrone and, as to be expected, he was sensational. I guess I should also have expected to see Ruth. Everyone of ilnportance in Mexico was there that day. I was standing in the cal/ejon, the alleyway behind the red fence surrounding thc ring, and she was

41

CIIAPTER

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sitting in the first row above Ine \vith a lnost distinguished gentlelnan about her age, and she looked happy. I nodded up to her and she slniled back. That was the bst tinlc I was ever to see her, but what an ilnpression that great lady had nlade on Inv life. (\0\\", you Illust relnelnber that all these Hwords of wisdoIll" were fonnulated Inany years ago. I al1l putting down ilnpressions of what I thought then. S0l11ctiInes that's clnbarrassing to do. In thinking back, I guess the one thing that irritated Inc the 1110st was that ?\1r. ~lalnoulian had two bells attached to his director's chair. The one on the right ann was for Robert ""ebb, his assistant director; the one on his left was for Ine. ()ne ring for Robert, two rings for me. But I had to end lip standing directly in front of him after he rang, while Bob was allowed to be off to one side. C;od, I disliked that I11an! Hell, during that period I didn't even like Bob ""'ebb, who eventually turned out to be a fine ITIotion picture director on his own and a dalTIned fine friend. At any rate, what I decided about directors was that there had to he rooln for sOlneone who was "nice." And I never changed that personal prolnisc to I11yself. The only people I ever fought with in Hollywood were executives \vho could fire Ine. I ilnagine the Illost alnusing IncInory of Blood and Sand was that I survived Iny first firing. ()ur entire c0l11pany had just returned to the Hotel Refornla after an incredibly dreadful con"ida. rrhe bulls had been cowardly, the matadors had heen terrified, and it was a cOll1plete disaster. In his suite, Mr. Darryl F. Zanuck was holding court. Unfortunately, the finale of his tirade against bullfighting was dircctcd at J11C. "Now, you tell I11e this is an art. Bullshit! \\That's exciting to Ine is to go as far up the rnountain as you can in a truck, switch to a 111ule to get up to the tiInberline, then c1inlb and struggle and clilnh until you sight your quarry. rrhere he is, a hundred yards away, a Inountain lion or a grizzly bear. You slide down on your helly on a rock, take a head on hilTI through your rifle-sight, and begin to squeeze the triggcr. 'rhat's the wonderfully exciting InOlnent when you really don't know if you're going to hit hinl." "Yes, sir," I blurted out, "hut you sure as hell know he isn't going to hit you." "'cll, that night I got .11l the way to the airport before Bob Webb found I11e to tell 1l1C all WalS, tClnporarily, forgiven. C:onsequently, as a director, I've always allowed sirnilar young jcrks to tnake several sirnilarly stupid 111istakes before they were sent on their way. Because of uAnnillita's" predated bullfight contracts, the shooting schedule of BloD(~ (Iud :"tllld. Wits revised to start at Fox Studios on its stages, fly the cOnlpany to MeXICO C.lty for the ranch and actual bullfight sequences, then return to the sru
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loving and hating. Finally, one draI113tic confrontation topped it al1 off and I shall never forget it. Over the weeks I had grown particularly fond of the gigantic character actor, Laird Cregar. He had a vel)' special sense of hUIBar, was consistently in a happy fralne of Inind aInidst all the nagging and priInping of SOlne of his cohorts, and all in all was an extrenle pleasure to be around. I-Ie played the Madrid bullfight critic, the obsequious flatterer of all toreros on the way up, the deadly executioner of those already falling in disgrace, and !)lrOne's nelllesis throughout the story. I-lis 1l1ost Inelllorahle line in the filtn was his description of Rita lIayv.'orth's "I)ona Sol." I can still hear his hoolning voice as he points across at her froIll his first-row seat in the plaza. "If this is death in the afternoon, she is death in the evening!" \\Tell, Laird weighed at least three hundred pounds and it was all Illuscle. I-Ie was one of the strongest l11en I've ever Illet, so when his booilling voice "suggested": "Boys and girls, please gather round!" we "gathered round" ilnd you could hear a feather drop. "It has been brought to Illy attention that SOl1le of you ... " I--Ie sort of "panned" past all of our faces with those sIniling hut deadly eyes hefore he continued, " ... perhaps fill of you, have been circubting the nllllor th~H I ~Hn ... (jllCtT." I was standing next to T}T and I heard hiln SlIck in his breath. Believc Inc, nobody 1110ved. "Well," hc finally continued, "I want to assure VOll, here ilnd now ... that I :1,\1.''' 'J'hen he hurst (·)ut laughing, turned and stro~lc into his dressing roon1. I like to think that I was the first to :applaud, hut 1'111 not really surc. Mayhe it was spontaneous, hut it W,1S real. I know everyone of us fclt like the lowest fornl of aninlal life. Renlelnher, this was 1941. \Vc all told "fag" jokes then. ()ut of the hlue, I g'ot an educational break I'd cert~linly never expected. Barhara McLain walked on the set to request froln her husband, Boh \Vcbh, that lvIr. Mailloulian allow her to "borrow" 1l1e for .1 few days. Boh knew that his (lirector wouldn't rnind if Ms. McLain "borrowed" 111C for the duration of the picture, so I was "kidnapped" to the cutting rOOIl1. ~~Bohhic" ~1cLain was the best fihn editor in the husiness-I),lrryl F Z~1nuck's personal cutter on all his Hpersonal" pictures. And, it See111S, Bohhie had a prohlcill. '{'he bulls were leaving- the screcn right to left, and she wasn't exactly certain just how the~' :lctually CllllC hack. Let nlC explain. If ']yrone Power steps through a hallway door frolll right to left, the cutter has to be certain that, in the inllllcdiatc cut to ~he f~)lI()wing sct (like the ]iving rooln)t the actor enters froIH the saine direction , right to left. (hhenvise, he will run into hilllseif. Believe Ille, it just doesn't work if vou're wrong. 'I'hc l110st naive child in the theater audience will anticipate the coliision. \Vell, the second I looked into the Moviola, I could understand her dilenlln~l. 'rhe hulls were hooking into "Annillita's" cape, running right to left, and then the Cllllcra stayed on "-

C HAP T E R

T \v ()

the Inatador as the aniInal exited frorn the scene going in the same direction, right to left. uS o," she said, taking her foot off the Moviola pedal and looking over her shoulder at Ine, "'that is Illy problenl. By all rules of editing, Iny next view of that hull should have hinl continuing right to left. But it doesn't look to me like that's the way it acruaHy happens and I want to be technically correct." I was shocked. Bobbie noticed my surprised expression. "There's sOlnething wrong with what I said?" uJ esus, no!" I said. "It just shocked nle to hear SOIneone say, for the first tilne on this show, that they'd like to be 'technically correct.'" She laughed out loud. ~'All you 'technical advisors' sure fit the same pattern. You get your feelings hurt when the boss doesn't take your advice." I had to slnile. I already liked Bobbie McLain-a lot. "Probably," I said, "but with the cape the bull is usually played to swing around and return. For instance, if he leaves the Inatador's left side, he's got to come back from that way in the opposite direction. I think if. .. " I stopped cold when I saw her expression. How oare I have the audacity to "think" in her editing room. Hyou think," she began slowly, "that if we shot a close-up of Ty calling the bull back fnun over his left shoulder, it Inight cut? Is that what you were going to suggest? " I threw up Iny hands and waved them across Iny face as if I had just yelled UC:ut!" "Look, preny lady, I don't know anything about things like that." Looking around I grabbed her coat off the hook. "This is all I know. Let nle show you." Slowly, I Illade six straight 7)crollicflJ, bringing the invisible "bull" back and fOfth ~lCr()SS rny body. 'Then: "Now thaes what actually happens," I said. "That's a II I know." ~\1s. Bobbie McLain stood up, took her coat froIn Ine and hung it back on the hook. U\Vould you like to sit behind Ille for a couple of weeks? I think I can fake it that long, and Inaybc you'll learn sOlnething." \Ve 11 , it wasn't long before Darryl F. Zanuck's favorite cutter becanle one of Iny favorite people. She taught nle Illore about fihn editing in those two weeks than I could ever have learned in a four-year college course. Hut, before I end Illy treatise on all the good fortune I was afforded during the production of Blood fJnd Sand, please let Ine express to you that, in Illy opinion, Bobhie McLain was unique. If you are, in any way, involved in the Inaking of J1l0li0l1 picnlres, for your own protection, allow Ine to leave you with the following short, short story. It is the s<.:ene of the Inost successful prelniere in Hollywood history. The arc lights are still cuttjng their paths through the black sky as the enthusiastic audi-

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ence surges out of the theater onto the concrete slabs bearing the natllCS and footprints of scores of famous stars. Flashbulbs are exploding; loud 111usic is blaring from the famous orchestra hired to entertain. Already the reporters are discussing the "Oscars" that will be garnered fro In this brilliant production. All four stars are a cinch. The director and writer are shoo-ins. 'l"hen two distraught-looking gentlemen in dark suits move slowly out of the bright lights to stand in the deep shadows of the venerable Grauman's Chinese Theater. --rhey arc the producer and the cutter. And they say to each other: "I think we can fix it." \Vhen we completed the final day of fihning on Blood find Sand, I experienced a sadness I hadn't expected. The last day on a picture you really care about is exactly like being graduated froll1 a school you sincerely love. You say good-bye to people you may never see again. You realize that all the sets will disappear; all the locations will begin being readied for other productions. You get a strange etnpty feeling in your stolnach and it hurts. rrhis was Illy first such experience, and I must adlnit I have never becolne calloused about the farewells. llell, I've even been guilty of giving good-bye hugs to actors I loathed. But I never really want to change. I turned left on Pico as I drove out of the studio. I needed to spend the evening with a true friend, nly best friend, so I headed for 61 () Beverly I) rive in Beverly Hills. I'd only seen Hal Roach Jr. five tillles since the picture started, and we used to be inseparable. Hal and Margaret, his younger sister, were in thc swin11ning pool when I arrived. They rushed to greet Ine and, as I rcached out to shake my buddy'S hand, Margaret knelt behind 1l1e and 1-1al pushed 1l1e over her back into the pool. Gee! Just like old tilnes. Being a (m"ero didn't Inean very Inuch to the Roaches. 1 wasn't exactly dry when Mr. and Mrs. Roach entered the poolside playroolll to say hello. Now these two were Illy favorite parents of all til11C. Marguerite, i\1rs. Roach, was a tiny thing and looked two years younger than her daughter-who was almost twenty. "Dad," Hal Jr. began, "()scar's actually seriously considering going hack ro Mexico and getting hilnself killed. Can't we talk hill1 out of it?" Margaret went into it a little deeper. H\Vhat we really want, dad, is for you to put him to work at the studio." . Now, 1 think Mr. Roach liked me-a lot--even then. \Ve'd always had a b'l'c~lt time when both our fanulies got together at C:ulver. But I had a feeling h'c'd never really considered hiring nle for anything. He was a bull of a Inan, as tough as old leather, but the twinkle in his eyes made the long beat of silence nearly bearable. T'hen: "Now, that's an interesting idea, Hal." I-Ie turned to' 1l1C. "So WhtH can YOll do, Oscar?"

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"'Vell, sir," 1 said, and C;od I hoped he'd know I wanted it to sound funny, "I can kick <1 t()otball, and throw a great left hoo~ and run like the wind, and fight a bull." ?\1rs. Roach laughed out loud and elbowed her husband in the ribs. "\\Tell," she said, Hthere isn't a srudio owner in the business who doesn't have a need for all

of that~" \ Vell, of course, I'd thought a lot about not going back to Mexico, about the fact that I'd been fortunate to discover another way to nlake an exciting living-and not get Inyself killed. But the Inatter of quitting kept irritating Iny tllind. I'd never quit anything. And "quit" was a very dirty word in Iny vocabulaty. Still, it \vasn't bullfight season. Taking a temporary job at the studio wasn't a downright sin! I hated the word "rationalization" too, but I'd think about that later-when 1 got alllny thoughts straightened out. So, following Blood and Saud (conveniently sandwiched in between Mexican bulltight seasons), I went to work at Hal Roach Srudios. And it was fun spending the weekends at the Bel Air Bay Club. Alnlost everyone took tinle to say "hello" to Inc: C:brk C;able and Carole LOlllbard, Cary Grant, Spencer Tracy, Gary C:oopcr-everybody. But, I figured it had more to do with Illy friendship with Hal Jr. than Iny newly acquired, very special position in the industry. I had just hecolne the studio's nUlnber-one l11essenger boy. But, suddenly, even that lnenial task hCCaIl1C a Inajor problenl-not for Il1e, but for the srudio. The daily nlessages of Utl110St in1portance never seelned to get any place on tilne. Hell, it wasn't Illy fault. It was just that Eddie Sutherland, and Milton Bren, and Frank Capra and Nortl1an lvlcLeod wanted to visit with I11e about football and boxing and bullfighting-nlostly bullfighting. I figured it was always going to be like that, so 1 went 41long with then1. \-\fell, 1 got prolTIoted in a hurry. 1 was going to lose twenty bucks a week in overtiI1le, hut it was a proI1lotion. They n1ade ll1e a "reader." 1 read everything! But, unlike lnost "readers," who are frustrated writers and directors and hate everything, I really liked stories now and then. I liked Agatha (:hristie's wonderful Ji:ll Little indians, which 1 read in The Saturday Evening Post, and I highly reCOll1111en<.ied it, but the studio rurned it down and prolTIoted Ine to a "herder." Now, you'll notice I didn't capitalize "herder," because the job doesn't really have a lot of dignity. \-\That 1 did was "herd" extras onto the set. I was dalnned good ::It thilt, and I Inade a lot of new friends. Then, just as I was beC0I11ing the best all-around sheep dog in Hollywood, 1 got prollloted again. And this titlle it was a step in the right direction. They l11ade tne a second assistant director. N ow, don't get the idea that beco111ing any kind of assistant director has anything to do with direction. Most of theln should be called assistant producers, hecause they spend 1110st of their tilne telling the picture's producer what the director is doing wrong. But, at I-Ial Roach Studios there were four real honestlO-( ;od assist~lnt 1)1 REC:'r()RS. 'rhey really cared about the director and what he

\VIIF~

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DISCRACE

was endeavoring to accoillplish. 'rhcse splendid gentlelnen were: Barney C:.lrr, Harve Foster, Holly Morse and Eddie j\1ontagne. These were the Illen who shaped Illy career, but 1'111 sure I drove all of theln crazy. SUlluner happened a bit too soon for Ine. Just as I was getting a little drier behind the ears, and stopped putting Illy t\\'O cents in when it wasn't asked for, ~lnd got the right actors in the correct costulnes on the set in tiIlle for the first shot, I-Ial Roach Studios closed down for July and August. l~here were no hulls to fight, no stories to tell, no actresses to round up, and the "readers' offices" were dosed. It was a serious dileInlna. But sure enough, when things looked the very blackest, I got the biggest break of Iny young life. C;eorge Stevens requested Iny presence at C:olul1lbia Pictures. He was about to start his production of TZ1l' .llore tbe l\!fer-riel' with Jean Arthur, Joel McCrea and Charles Coburn, and he wanted IllC as his second assistant. Lord, I didn't think the great l11an had ever bothered to really get to knO\V Ine, and, by golly, he had even learned to spell 111Y nalne~ And that stint on Mr. Stevens' picture got Inc wherever I anl today. Funny thing how audacity, real stupidity and crassness can sOll1etirnes turn a scorched weed into a bloomin' red rose. I guess it was because I was still full of IHyself frotH the h~liry experiences in the Mexican plazas or it certainly wouldn't have happened that way when Harry (~ohn, one of the bst bona fide tycoons of our industry, strode onto the set. "I-Iey, you, kid," he began, "tell that hlCkin' director of yours I want to see hiln!" I really bristled! '[hat "fuckin' director" he was referring to was the best fuckin' director in all of Hollywood. I guess if I ever revered a In3n, it was C;corgc Stevens, and it was Iny tnoral duty to protect hinl with Iny life. Now, C;eorgc Stevens silnply loathed I-Iarry C:ohn, and he had a backboard set up so that when Mr. Cohn caine on the set, he would autolllatically begin to bang a tennis ball up against that white wall at about one hundred dollars a bang-until Mister (:ohn decided that the unnecessary visit was running into hig l11oney. lIarry used to tour the studio each night and tun) out all the lights, so those ad-lib handball exhibitions rcally killed hinl. So-"I'ln sorry, sir," I said, "Mr. Stevens is busy." "Listen, you sonofabitch," (~ohn exploded. "Now, wait a Ininute! Please don't callIne that." "And if I do?" "I'll knock you on your ass!" It had all happened so fast that Illy words just hurst out. Everything stopped on the set, even C;eorge's handballing. I could hear Iny heart pounding. "Do you know who lain?" I-larry (:ohn continued, his voice now threateningly dulcet. "Yes sir, I do, Mr. C:ohn, but c0l11pared to those black bulls COining Ollt of those black holes, you look like the 'Virgin Mary. '" C;eorge Stevens' laugh ricocheted off the backboard, but [ wished he hadn't

47

even silliled. "'Young Jnan," l\1r. Colulnbia Pictures roared for the whole C0111pany to hear, ubc in rny office at six o'clock sharp!" And I inl1nediately thought of buying up apples and pencils to sell, because I sure was finished in the picture business. Harry Cohn had 1110deled his private office after Mussolini's. Honestly! There was a lone piano just inside the door, and then a fully carpeted empty "basketball court" all the way to his desk. Those who were stupid enough to plan on asking Harry Cohn for a raise usually found themselves fumbling in their own pockets for money to give him by the time they reached the mammoth desk. T'here were always the exact nUlnber of chairs needed for those involved in the Ineetings. If there were to be three people, there would be three chairs. For only one-you sat there "solo." Believe me, Mr. Cohn always had your conlplete attention. On each side of the desk was a high screen: the one on the right covered the entrance to the steaJn room, the one on the left led to the dressing rooms of his stars. At Christmas tilne both screens were pushed tight against the corners of the desk, so as to make it Inore difficult for the sometimes-antagonistic studio revelers to throw a punch at the boss, which would have been foolhardy because I'd always bet that Harry Cohn could take good care of himself. Well, there wasn't even one chair available the first time Mr. Cohn's secretary buzzed Ine into the office. The boss just sat there behind his big desk and waited for nle to stop in front of hilll. I flashed back to Mr. Mamoulian. That was tough enough. But Harry Cohn made my ex-director pal look like Shirley *I(:!mplc. He took a full minute looking me up and down, then: "So you're the bullfighter?" "I used to be, sir," I offered. "And now you're an assistant director?" "I guess I used to be that, too, sir." It just popped out that way, I sure hadn't Incant to sa}' that. But, at that second, I hoped it might work. Well-it didn't. "Look, kid, don't be a SITIart ass. You'll know when you're fired, believe Ine." lIe ncver changed his expression and he continued to study me for another Iniserahlc InOITIent. Finally: "Okay, I think you've got sOlllething to say to me," rrhis tilne I had Illy thoughts collected and I knew damned well what to say. "Yes, sir. I'ITI really vcry sorry, sir." I-Iarry C:ohn sat back in his chair and waved his hand at me in the manner you would brush off a fly. I didn't know then that it meant, "adios," "that's it," and "get the hell out of here." So I just stood there, He was the one who spoke. 44you have somcthing Inore to say to me, kid?" UNo, sir, I was just waiting for you. I apologized." "Bull SHI'T'! Now get out of here while you're still ahead."

48

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l'here was a split second when I thought I'd have to duck the paperweight, then 1 headed for the door. 1 tried not to run, hut I W~lS in a hurry. 1\1r. C:ohll's voice stopped 111e. '"Kid," he said, "I guess 1'111 the sonofabitch who's going to have to Inake sOlnething out of you. I'll be in touch." **********

Harry C~ohn and I hecalne good friends. \Vc liked each other. Both of us. It wasn't a one-way street. Now, not Inany people can 111ake that claill1. Sure, I read King Cobu and Inaybe he was a bastard, to others, but he W~lS 'llways one hundred percent with Inc. I-le'd cOlne on the set when there was nothing there to do and usu.l11y so 11luch thilt I couldn't quite pinpoint the errors. I-1e called Ine his "resident torero." Nohody ever clainled I was a good assistant, ~cause I sure as hell wasn't. But, the big boss liked Inc, so I continued to get away with Illy Inist.lkes. 1 was surprised though, when I got an invitation to 111eet with hilll1 privately, in his office. ()h, yes, he he'd ask Ine what I was "fucking up now," but there

wanted Ine to

W.1S

cal1 hinl "l-Iarry," but 1 never did it unless we were alone. \/Vell, we

sure as hell were this tiIl1e and I-Iarry l11otioned for Inc to sit down in the single easy chair he held stationed before hilll. "Kid," he began, "1'111 about to begin the Inost expensive picture C:olull1bia Pictures has ever Inade. \r\1e're going to call it Cover (Jirl. I've got Rita and SOI11e fella nallled Kelly frolll i\1.C;.M. and I want you to be the first assistant." I was shocked! "Jesus C~hrist, Harry, I've never been a first. I-Iell, 1'111 a lousy second." "We all know that," he said, "but I've got a re~lson. You don't have to worry about the paperwork or any l11ajor probleIlls. I've set Non11an I)ellling to take care of all that, and there's nobody hetter in the business. You just gaff the set. Keep all those prilna donnas happy." "\Vell," I began, "if you think I can ... " wrhere's one catch," he cut in. I should have known there was. "Did you ever Ineet C:harles Vidor?" "No, sir, but I worked on his set one day." (:ohn continued: "Well, even one day should have taught you he's a Iniserable sonofabitch. But, C;od danllnit, he's the best wOlnan~'i director dlere is-a hell of a lot better than Cukor. Anyway, he's Inurder on everybody: stars, producers, assistant~-the whole dalnned caboodle-and I want hinl SiIlllllcred down for this show." "Yes, sir," I said again. l-here wasn't Inuch else I could think of. "Just one question, Kiddo," and those hlack eyes burned right through Inc,

49

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Two

~~and

1'd better get a straight answer." 'rhis tiine I nodded, carefully. ~'If that sonofabitch ever calls you a sonofabitch, what'll you do?" ~~\Vell, sir, if he 111eanS it, guess I'd have to ... " I took a deep breath, rememhcring-Uknock hiIl1 on his ass!" Ilarry Cohn relaxed back into his leather chair and rurned toward the screen on his left. "()kay, Charlie," he said, "come on out and meet your first assistant." \raguely I rerl1enlber jumping up-beet red-as Charles Vidor emerged from hehind the barrier. U( ;ood afternoon," the great director said with dignity. "It's a pleasure to 111CCt you, young tnan. " I lovcd his Hungarian accent. But, what a dreadful way to meet someone you athnired so Inuch. I-Iarry Cohn was a sadistic bastard, but I figured he had a reason. I hadn't stuttered since early grade school, but I sure stumbled over, "It's a-pleasure to n1eet you, Mr. Vidor." Nir. Vidor broke into a laugh. "Hell, 'Boodye' [he pronounced Budd that way] after that introduction, you might as well call me 'Charlie.'" And I did. And we never had one problem. And he was better than Cukor. lIe put his ann around my shoulder and guided me across the mile of carpet toward the door. He spoke loudly enough for Harry to clearly hear every word. "Don't worry about my association with our boss. Harry loves to direct charades like tha t, and those of us who are smart enough to want to work for him put IIp with it." I shot a hurried glance back toward the desk. The boss was grinning from ear to ear-and he winked. Damn, those truly were the good old days when

llollywood was FUN! Cover Gi,,1 went a Inillion-and-a-half over budget. Harry fired Charlie. The production office fired me, saying I hadn't paid enough attention to staying on schedule and under budget. They were right. I just wanted Charlie to make a gn:at picture. So, I hightailed it back to Mexico. Vidor liked a treatment I had written ahout Illy experiences as an American torero. Torero was what Bullfighter and the 1.'Il~Y was called then and, since we were both now unemployed, I hoped that he tnight consider directing it. Luckily, I telephoned Harry Cohn from Mexico (:ity-just to say hello. U\A/here the hell are you?" the boss shouted. "In Mexico City," I replied. "I've been getting all my matadors lined up for

'Iort.,.o. n U\,Vcll, get your ass back here, right away," he ordered. "I've got something hettcr for you to do."

50

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In exactly twenty-four hours I was back in his office, sitting in that lonely electric chair. It \vas never really cotnfortable-even when expecting good news, because I always knew the boss could pull the switch. "1 guess you've heard that Cover Girl is a 51nash," 1\lr. (:ohn began. I nodded as if I knew. "I was sure it would be." "Yep," he continued, "Charlie's a great director. I've already set hilll for another show-Gilda with Glenn Ford. Rita doesn't ever want anyone else to direct her." 1 slniled. I figured, il1lInediately, Illy new job was going to be with \lidor again-on Gilda. Then the boss got down to brass tacks. "~rhe Briskins are trying to take over the studio-over Iny dead body. They've got three young fellas they're groollling to be directors. If I work out the saIne shot for you, can you cut it?" "You Inean-direct a picture?" "Kiddo, you've been in Mexico too long. ''''eren't you listening?" "Of course, I can direct," I lied. The boss grinned. "I kne\\' you'd be cocky enough to lie to tnc, but I'rn going to set it up so you can learn sotnething. \.Villianl Berke's going to start a 'twelve-day wonder' called Tbe Girl in tbe Cnse next week. Bill's about as good ~l director as you're gonna find on these 'filler' shows. You're gonna sit your ass on the set and watch every I110Ve he Inakes. 'rhen, Inayhe when the titHe cOIlles, you'll know a little about what you're doing." 'fhen he picked lip a script froln his desk and started to react. "T'hat's it," he said. "lake care of yourself." And I got out of there in a hurry. I didn't want to explode with Illy surprising good fortune in front of anybody-especially I--Iarry (:ohn. Well, Bill Berke was a dreaIn-ahsolutely sensational with I11e. lIe didn't mind Illy nosing around on his set. And, he went out of his way to help nH~ Icarn the art of Inaking a full-length fihn in two short weeks. Believe Inc, it's not e~lsy! But, a dreadful thing happened to nle on that set. 1 developed a real crush Oil the leading lady. Janis Carter was I11y first true love in the piculre business. I'd never seen anyone that beautiful up close, not even Rita or Linda fr0l11 Blood lind SlIllti. But, heck, almost everyone in Hollywood can fake looking great. It W~lS Inore th,lll that. She was just so darn nice and so 111uch fun. And the f.lct that her legs 1l1i.Hle Betty Grable's legs look ... Well, Miss Grable's just weren't i.1S pretty. But, Iny prohlenl was that this infatuation was about as unrequited as you can get. 1'111 not sure she ever suspected how I felt, because Janis was Inarricd, and I W~lS frotH Evansville, Indiana, and back there Inarriage was still sacred. So, I did IHy "hacking" SOlnewhere else. But, Max Arnow, Colulnbia's casting director and a real power at the studio, wasn't so sure about that. It was pretty obviolls to all concerned what lvtlX

51

CHAPTER

Two

had in mind, but if you knew Janis, you had to figure he was striking out. Well, 01' Max figured I worn't. And he hated my guts! So, stick around. All this makes sense in telling it later in the story. About this time, I was called in for my Army physical. The war was in full swing, but the Army and Navy didn't want any of us yet because, supposedly, we were busy entertaining the troops with our picrures. I had a commission already offered me in the Navy, but that didn't cut the mustard. The Draft Board wanted to inspect my body NOW! So, off I went to downtown Los Angeles. Christ, it was cold in that big empty room. The only thing that kept me smiling was that my pal, the great comedian Phil Silvers, was just a couple of places ahead of me in that naked line. Now, I never could understand what my friend Phil was worried about. He hadn't had a hair on his head for years and looked ten years older than he was. And he couldn't see two guys in front of him without his glasses, and he was grossly overweight. If ever there was a legitimate 4-F, it was Phil. And he was scared to death about the war. Hell, we all were. But, Phil had been on a beer binge the night before to steady his nerves, and he really had to GO! But, here we all were, stark naked with just a white card, our ice-cold shoes, and an empty bottle. Well, just as Phil got one guy from being able to relieve himself in the specimen bottle, he spotted a nervous little fellow standing off to one side looking miserable. He also noticed, immediately, that this poor "milquetoast's" own specimen bottle was still empty. "\\'hat the hell's the matter with you?" Phil blurted out to the fellow. "Gosh, I've never gone to the toilet in front of anybody." Phil grabbed that bottle like he'd just found a pearl in his oyster, filled it immediately-without spilling a drop-then proceeded to fill his own. Handing both bottles to the sergeant at the "Specimen Desk," he said, nodding toward his new friend: "He's with me." Comedians! They never miss a shot. Now, my personal remembrance of that day brought back a painful flashback of an earlier incident. "Do you have any identifying scars?" the bespectacled corporal asked me, studying my card as he spoke. "Well, I've got some scars on my face that are easy to see," I answered, "and a rectal goring." He looked up. "You've got a what?" "A rectal goring," I repeated. "From what?" "From a bull." "What kind of bull?" "A fighting bull," I said sheepishly, wishing to hell I'd never brought it up.

52

WHEN

IN

DISGRACE

What I had figured was that if I got killed, that was one way they could identify my body. The corporal sidled around the desk, never taking his eyes off me. "Mind if I take a look?" he said. "Be my guest." I put one foot on his desk and sort of leaned over. JESUS! Then I heard his voice from between my legs. "Hey, Eddie, George, Dr. Evans, get over here. This guy's got a hole in his ass!" "Christ, I hope so," I heard the doctor say, "or he'll never pass the physical!" Well, despite my rectal problem I passed the physical with flying colors. A~ a matter of fact, I didn't have to "pass" anything else. The doctors were so impressed with my behind that they collectively whisked Ine by all the other desks as if I had just won an Academy Award and I ended up out on the street, still freezing, but with the signed statement that the United States Arnly could have my punctured body any damned time it wanted. But-nobody wanted me, except the picture business. Movies were being Inade for the citizens at horne as weI] as the soldiers, sailors and marines. I was an assistant director and Washington figured I assistant-directed things, so I Inust be important. They'd call Ine. I shouldn't bother to call them. So it was back to Gower Street and Colulnbia Pictures whether I liked it or not. Jesus! There was one hell of an event going on in full swing and I wasn't even sitting on the bench! .. * .. ******* Irving Briskin was a tall, nice-looking executive with a pleasant smile. I hadn't expected to meet him, as I thought he was the "enelny. " Fact is, nobody can ever explain just what goes on behind studio closed doors, so I just sat still and listened. "Harry's got his mind set on making sOlllething out of you," he began, "and I see no real harm in trying. Bill Berke seems to think you'll do very well, so 1'111 going to take the chance until I find out you can't." Now, that was encouraging. Then: "Max has three boys he's very high on, and-" "Max?" I interrupted. Mr. Briskin nodded. "Max Arnow. He's planning on putting his three proteges on three different shows so that they can observe for the first ten days, then direct the final two. Lew Landers is starting a picture next week. You sit on his set, then take over the last two days." He smiled. "You'll like the star. He was an Olympic shotput champion nalned Herlnan Brix. His stage name now is Bruce Bennett. Oh, by the way, it's a submarine pictUre. Most everything takes place on board ship. Pick up a script on the way out." A submarine picture! \\That in the hell do you do with your calnera on a sub-

53

CHAPTER

T\yO

Inarine? I sensed, in a hurry, I was really being set up. Max Arnow's boys were \,Villianl Castle, Henry Levin and Mel Ferrer. I'd never met Castle or Levin, and I didn't like Mel Ferrer at all. So, since they were on Arnow's team, I knew I had three strikes against me and, along with dear Max, there was a good chance I was already a BIG "out." I worked my tail off on that script. I had the final two days of that show Illapped out on paper, shot for shot, like I've never done since. I was letter perfect, and ready to fly. Another nice thing was that my favorite first assistant, Milton Feldlnan, was assigned to the show. At least I'd have one pal on the set. I was taking a steam bath at the Hollywood Athletic Club when I was called to the phone. I t was Max Arnow. "Boetticher, you're going to direct the first two days starting tomorrow. The shooting call is at nine o'clock." I couldn't believe it! I was supposed to have ten shooting days and one Sunday before I was to go to work. "Mr. Arnow," I stammered, "I'm not prepared. I was supposed to-" He cut me off. "Take it or leave it," he said, and hung up. And out of all the windows went my furore. Harry Cohn was in New York. I couldn't get him on the phone until four o'clock in the morning, New York time. Away from Hollywood the boss liked to have a real good time. "Listen, kid," he bubbled, sounding happier than Christmas, "you ad-libbed yourself this far. Go in there tomorrow and knock 'em dead. I'll see you next week. And, oh yeah, don't take any shit from anyone." And the phone went dead. \\That did he mean, "Go in there tomorrow-"? It was already today, and I hadn't had any sleep. I thought, at first, I ought to stay up with what was left of my time and, at least, read the first two days' shooting schedule. Then, I just said the hell with it. At least Milton F eldlnan would be there on the set in a few hours, and he'd smile at Ine. Milton was there, all right, when I staggered onto Stage 4 at eight-thirty. But it wasn't Milton Feldlllan. It was Milton Carter. Now, I had been Mr. Carter's second assistant on Destroyer, and he hated my guts. I'd actually forgotten to call Edward (i. Robinson for an early morning scene, and Milton ended up getting the blame. God, Max Arnow had thought of everything. But, a very strange thing happened. I'd always thought Mr. Milton Carter was at least seven feet tall, but here he was walking toward me, and he got smaller with every step. Finally, looking up at 111e, he said: "Good morning, sir. Excuse me, but could you give me some idea of what you have planned for your first shot?" Darnn this was FUN! I looked down at little Milton. "I'll let you know about Iny first shot as soon as I have a cup of coffee," I said, and Milton hurried off to get it.

54

WHEN

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Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was talent, or maybe it was just gall. But, sonofabitch, I was an honest-to-gosh Hollywood DIRECTOR! But, then who do you think came prancing out of the woodwork? Mel Ferrer. Max had assigned HIM as my dialogue director! Every shot I lined up, and I lined them up with reckless abandon, I could turn and see Mel and Lew shaking their heads in utter disgust. It was encouraging. Finally, I set up the last shot of the day: a dolly shot with the camera being swung up and down to give an effect of the ocean. Lew and Mel shook their heads even harder and my director-teacher strode up to me. "I can't allow you to make that shot," he said. "Whose angle do you think you're on fr0l11 the middle of the ocean?" "Probably the same fella who was in the hole when John Ford's stagecoach and six horses rolled over him," I fumed. "Now, God damn it, Lew, get off IUy back!" Well, that was the beginning. Harry Cohn returned eight days after my twoday directorial stint. Lew Landers complained, bitterly, about my arrogance and inefficiency. So the boss gave him an opportunity to stop worrying about it. He fired him and I got to direct the final two days. And folks have been staying "off . my back " ever SInce. **********

The following few years of my life were a "montage" of actors, producers, actresses, cameramen, movies and mistakes. Everything involved with Iny first five films at Columbia was a learning experience. These little black-and-white pictures were made in twelve days for one hundred thousand dollars. They were called "fillers." They filled the bill consisting of a major motion picture and a second feature designed so that, for a minimal ticket price, the patrons who were worried about our probable participation in World War II could spend the entire afternoon in the theater. I suspect folks bought a lot of popcorn when Illy pictures came on. No matter what, Harry Cohn made sure that I had top old-tillle call1eramen. They were supposed to be there to help me, but I soon discovered they were there to show me what they knew and how very mistaken I was about everything I set out to accomplish. Don't misunderstand me, they were all fine gentlelnen. But I was young, and green as grass, and cocky, and consequently, my aged cinelnatographers and I never really advanced to the "palzy" stage. I invented a systeln that worked. When one of them questioned Ine about a shot I had requested, I Inerely shook my head, patted him on the arm, and said: "You really don't understand what I'm trying to do, do you?" Then I walked away. Of course, most of the tilne they were right and I was wrong, and I sensed it. But, being wrong as a film director can cost you a hunk of prestige in a hurry. So I faked it. Years later a television host asked me exactly when I realized that I was a full-fledged director. I told hilll

55

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right after Iny tenth picture. But, oalnn it, I really faked those first five with a bundlt: ()f phony contldence. 1 still have fond l11elllories of three leading l1len: Chester Morris, George .\lacready, and Ross I-hinter. They were fun to \vork with. And rnl proud that two of Illy young leading ladies eventually Blade it SIC;: Dorothy Malone and Nina Foel1. ()f course, I always believed that Janis Carter could have been a star-if she had wanted to be. But I'ln happy she was too Sll1art to play that gmne. It was directly after Iny fifth show at Colull1bia that I got word Iny Navy cOlnll1ission had been approved. The government wanted Iny body right now-and they wanted it in \Vashington, D.C. Lt. Barney Carr had requested 111y presence at the Photographic Science Laboratory in Anacostia, a suburb of the capital. Barney had been Iny 111entor at l-1al Roach Studios and had supervised nly early C~lrecr as if he were Iny godfather. Well, it seelns he cared enough to wish to continue in the saIne capacity. He also I1lust have figured I had iI1lproved. Or, Inaybe he knew th~lt no one at the Science Lab gave a damn about bulls or bullfighting, so I would be left on Iny own to do a good job. 'rhe Photo Science Lab had a very ilnportant place in the Navy. The personncl consisted of professional people froll1 the motion picture industry and still photography production. 'fhey were recruited froln Hollywood, New York, and Rochester, New York, the Blain base of Kodak. 1 was delighted with the opportunity to he under Lt. C:arr's cOlnI1land. I couldn't be in better hands, and I ilnmediately had drealns of photographing the United States Anny's entrance into Tokyo or Berlin-whichever city gave up first. But there were a lot of brave and talented people frOll1 our industry at the Photo Science Lab, including Gene Kelly, Richard (:arlson and C:harlcs Marquis \"rarren, and I knew I'd have to vie with thern for the ilnportant naval conquests. Still, I felt ready for the task. I was young, tough ~uld in grc~lt Sh.lpC. Now "'orld War II was Iny very own personal war. But it didn't turn out ex.lctly that way. 1.1. John Benton drank. lie was a close friend and business associate of (:ollllnanticr 'rhorne I)onnelley, who financed the building of the Photo Science Lab and was Lt. (:arr's inunediate superior. In private life Conllnander Donnelley owned 'l'he (:hicago Press, which printed Life, 'Til1le and The Chicago Telephone Directory. \Vell, the cOll1lnander didn't want his pal, John, to get kicked out of the Navy ;lS a drunk. 'rhe fact that Lt. Benton had done a very cotntnendable job during the years in the Navy hefore his boredoll1 set in didn't cut the ITIustard. Now he W;lS in deep trouble and sOlnething had to be done about it. Fortunately, everyone loved Jack Benton. lIe was white-haired handsolne, great fun to be with even when he was loaded, and he never gave anyone an ounce of trouble. He just drank. Also, UFort Roach," I-Ial Roach Studios now converted into the Arnly's version' of the Photo Science Lab, had a hundle of farnous actors, writers and directors

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under war-tilne "contract." (As a Inatter of fact, one of the gentlenlen heC:1nle ollr President.) And they hadn't lost anyone because of a drinking prohleI11. So there was a lot of Navy pride involved. Lt. Carr brought me up to date the tninute I reported to his offIce. l\ly first inlportant Inission in the Navy was to try to discover \vhere Lt. Benton hid his liquor. Most every officer at the lab lived on the hill above the air station in ~l group of brick buildings affectionately called" Peretski Plaza." 'rhey were typical Washington apartnlents for naval officers: big and roolny, icy in the winter and unbearable in the sunllner. But they were safe. rrhe Photo Science Lab never lost a ITIan in battle in the vicinity of Peretski Plaza. Now, don't rnisunderstand 111C. The officers and enlisted Inen assigned to the lab \vent everywhere during the war. They were on the battleships when they were blown up fronl blInikaze hits and on the beaches with the Anny and Marines. Lt. \\'arren photographed the landings on Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Kwajalein and Eniwetok. All in all, our hoys photographed one hell of a war and were highly decorated for their bravery. But, for the lab personnel it was a strange kind of war. -[heir jobs were to go wherever they were sent, and to filrn, under fire, what the Navy requested, then rehlrn to Washington to await their next Inission. My first heachhead was Lt. Benton's apartnlent. Barney 1110ved I11e in as the gentlelnan's r001111113te, and Illy life "aboard" the Good Ship PS.L. began. While in his cups, Iny gregarious new partner saw BBs COining through the keyholes, underneath the doors and through ,lny slightly open window. 'rhe situation didn't bother Jack at all because he knew it w~lsn't aChlally happening. But he acted concerned about Illy being frightened or irritated by these pesky little pellets, and he always requested that I put Iny feet up on chairs or tables until all was clear. It actually got so bad that I'd find 111yself seeing the BBs first. Jack Benton was very convincing. Well, I retllly heellne intrigued with Illy rOOllllnatc. 'rhcrc was never a dull nl011lent. I-Ie was a fascinating raconteur, bright as the Slln and extrenlely funny. And he had been very sllccessful in business before the w~lr. Fi.lCt is, COlllIllander Donnelley decided to join the service and, before Jack knew it, he had tagged along. And he was SI113rt, really SInart. l-le was so darnncd Sllli.lrt that-no nlatter how hard I searched-I couldn't find one drop of liquor in thi.H' apartlnent. It was dreadful because he never sohered up. I was blowing Iny first big responsibility! I would have walked through fire for Barney (::.1rr, ~uld here I was, letting hiln down. All everybody wanted to do was sober up Jack enough to get hin1 an honorable discharge, and I wasn't discovering one thing to help those good officers give hinl the dignified exit frolll the service he deserved. 'I'hen, quite expectedly one Iniserable Inorning, the toilets froze. Nothing tlushed, nothing dripped, and I went to work in the 11lain bathrool11-chipping away at the ice in the toilet tank. Suddenly I slnelled vodka. Now I had sillellcd a lot of vodka in

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llollywood, and I recognized it illlinediately as a stol11ach-wanning "friend." But, Inon.: il11portant, I had just discovered Lt. Benton's hiding place. Every toilet, and there were four of theIn, had a specially 111anufactured plastic container underneath the plunger at the bottonl of the tank. It was ingenious! Hell, I'd seen Lost If ('{'A't'IUI four tilnes, but this was better. Anyway, Jack was a great sport about Iny disco\·ery. I-Ie allowed his Inany friends to cart hiln off to Bethesda Navy Hospital where, in due tinle, he recovered enough to accept his honorable discharge. I Inissed hirn. C;od love hiln. I 11lean it. And I began to understand that COInnlanding officers like Iny pal, Barney Carr, had iInportant things to attend to other than just helping win the war. Lt. Barney Carr was the best, Inost decent, all-aroundgood Illan I've ever known. He ran his "shop" in a spectacular Inanner, whether in I iollywood or \i\Tashington, because he really cared about people. 'rhe years in the r\avy were nlenlorable, to say the least. The officers and cnlisted Inen at P.S.L. turned out SOlne valuable pieces of work, and I was fortunate to be a part of (\\'0 of thenl-the wonderful docunlentary Tbe Fleet that e(/1I1(J '/0 St"J and ,/~c" DOlle, President Harry TrUl1lan'S etnotional farewell to the Blen and WOtllen of the anned services. I was assigned to filtn the episodes at sea, (;enc Kellv, the ai r, and Richard C:arlson, the land. I wasn't particularly fond of Lt. C:arlson when we first rnet at P.S.L. Dick 'vas a brilliant scholar and a talented young leading Illan in 111otion pictures before the war. He was under contract to .v1.C ;.1\-1. and I had a<.lJnired hinl in nUlllerous filtns. However, as far as I was concerned, he had one serious fault. I-Ie consistently hit you over the head with his Phi Beta Kappa key. Because I was an athlete, he took nU111erOUS potshots at Ine and seetlled genuinely surprised when I was at all knowledgeable of any sophisticated subject. \A'e weren't exactly pals. \ \'hen I cOlllpleted Illy sea filtning off C;uantanalno, Cuba, on the U.S.S. Fall Rivcr, I He\\' to !':ew York City where I was ordered to check in at the Hotel Pierre and direct half of the twelve pick-up shots needed of the city's street people. I f part of Presiden t T'rulnan's WeJl Done was to depict the diversified nationalities of the United States, New York was certainly the city in which to film, and I looked forward to the ch~ll1enge. What I didn't anticipate was that the one officer at PS.L. I wasn't anxious to share a suite with was about to be Iny rOOInInate-Lt. Richard (~arlson, Iny senior officer. ()f course, Lt. Carlson wasn't exactly happy to see nle either. I unpacked Illy bag, praying that he wouldn't introduce lne as "Ensign Benson" to his New York pals. I'd heard that's what he called I11e when I was out of earshot. And I pnunised Inyself, no 111atter what, I'd hold Iny teInper. "I'his late in the war would be one hell of a tinle to be court-nlartialed. So, like a couple of stupid rats caught in a trap, IJick and I sat at widely separated windows for over an hour looking down at a parade on Fifth Avenue. Finally he broke the silence.

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"Well, Ensign," he sighed, ~~do we sit up here and hate each other's guts all night or go out on the town?" \\Te went "out on the town" and it was the beginning of a lifelong friendship. Martha Raye was appe~lring at the (:Iub C:arnivaL I had Inet her in Hollywood, but Dick knew l\1artha and her talented husband, Nick C:ondos, very well. For Ine, ?vliss Raye was one of the great cOlnediennes and an absolutely sensational singer, when she cared to play it straight. Her rendition of .1/17: PagaJli71i is still a Ill0tion picture 1l1usical classic, so I was delighted to accept Dick's invitation to see her sho\\/. I will never forget it! lVlartha did a routine with six basketballplayer-tail "1l1usketeers" that had the patrons doubling over onto their tables and onto the tloor. It certainly wasn't "clean," but it was so hilariously funny that, at the tillle, it didn't seenl dirty. lVlartha was il sellli-toothless "'ll1usketeer" whose sinall rubber sword just wouldn't stand up long and straight like the shining sabers of the three gi.lnts on each side of her as they sang, U\Ye are the l\lusketeers!" \,Vhat she did to try to get that poor little piece of ruhber to stand up straight ~lnd tall like his "fellow s\vords" was pure cOlnedy Inagic-all done to the rhythlll of the Illusic. People were screalning "Stop it! Stop it!" they were laughing so hard. ()f course, today, Inaybe even Disney nlight put th~lt sequence in a picture, but back then it was a red-faced riot. After ten encores, while the audience was still trying to see through its tears, we joined l\1artha and Nick at their table. 'rheir guests were nlostiv show folks, all devout fans of l\/lartha, and it turned out to be ~l Illost Inelllorahle night. I)ick Carlson hecaIlle the life of the party. It shouldn't have surprised Ine. Broadway and 1- Iolly\v()od were his hOllle grounds and he becaIlle extrelnely attractive in his own eleIlleIH. And so did the young lady sitting directly across the long table frolll Ille. She had joined us as \\'C were being seated, and i\1artha introduced her to liS in general as "Cookie, Iny that . Elvorite child-Illodel." \,Vell 'with L .g"Orgeous fig-ure she cen;1illly didn't fit "C:ookie." I thought 1l10re of angel-food cake. She wasn't a '\~hild" ;lnd there was s0l11ething about her that set her off frolll the show-biz crowd. I watched her as surreptitiously <1S I could, hut she caught Iny eye and slniled. 'I'hl!n, when I asked her to dance, she stood up a lot ralll!r than I had thought. 'rhe orchestra was playing 1'1/ Be S'ccing }Oll and when J took her in Illy anns it was as if I were dancing alone \\,ith Iny shadow. For a few wonderful Inonlcnts I iln~lgined I was Fred Astairc. Above us, hanging frotH the high ceilin~, W~lS a gigantic revolving ornanlent with golthall-size di'nples throughout its round slIr6ee. Four ;Huher arc lights played their beallls against the glass, .lnd yellow dots danced across the faces below. Suddenly sOIHething caught Iny attention. 'rhe yellow reflections had burned out Illy partner's Inakeup, and across the right side of her pretty nose was a shiny scar. I 1l1ust have stopped dancing to starl! down at it because her "well?" shocked Ille back to Iny clnbarrassing hlck of courtesy. <-

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sorry, I said. "God, that was iInpolite. But I'ITI fascinated by scars. I've got a whole body full of thetn and-well-I didn't expect to see a scar on a face as heautihll as \,ours." She laughed and reached up to touch the scar. '"I hope your 'fascination' I11eanS that you like these things. It used to be a hirthlllark . .\'ty fatllily had it reITIoved when I was six." I really felt like an ass, and I unconsciously began to talk Iny way out of it. ""l\ly younger brother used to play with a little girl \vho had a birthmark on her nose. She was a cute little kid and I heard she got rid of it. I'll bet she's beautiful now." "(~()okie" didn't say anything. She just looked up at me for a long, long beat, then settled back into Iny anTIs. "Jesus Christ!" I thought, "how can I be so fucking sophisticated when I don't need to be, and such a high school jerk when I'm trying to ilnpress?" \.Ye finished the dance and walked back to the table. I moved Iny chair over to sit next to her, but we didn't talk a lot. We just listened to the snappy patter fro111 the show-biz folks until the nightclub closed. Dick and .\lartha wanted us to join theln for breakfast at Sardi's, but "C:ookie" said she'd worked late at the studio and would prefer to call it a night. I suggested hailing a taxi and t.!scorting her hatTIe, but she was staying at a hotel only three blocks from the club and preferred that we walk the distance together. Funny thing about that three-block walk. l\.:ot one word was spoken the whole way. At the entrance to the hotel, I started to apologize for ll1y rudeness, but this tiIne she stopped Ine cold. ~~You'rc ()scar Boetticher Jr., aren't you?" she said. I was dUlllbfounded and just nodded. hI asked your friend. I had an idea who you were on the dance floor, but I wanted to be sure. \Vhv else. do YOU think I let you walk Ine hOlTIe?" . Suddenly I saw the light. I twas irnpossible in a city of Inil1ions, but it was true. ~()W, I believe in signs. Living with the toreros and the C;ypsies, I had learned to be superstitious and to helieve in fate. Still, unspeaking, I waited for her to tlnish-which she did with a s111ile. LLI'ln the 'cute little kid' frolll Evansville, Indiana, who used to play with your hrother," she said. UI'nl Enlily (~ook." For the next three nights Ernily Erskine Cook and I did the town, not nightcluhs and bars, hut carri.lge rides through Central Park, and a round trip on the Slat<':Jl Island Ferry-things p<.:opie do when they are falling in love. What struck Inc funny was that I had finally found a girl WhOlll (~e()rgia Boetticher would adore. I [er faillily was C:ook's Beer and Chalnpagne. No one called her "Cookie" hut '\1artha. who had a nicknatnc for everyone. And she wasn't a student in the college of hard knocks. She had cOlllpleted her education at Stevens at the head of her class. She \,,'anted to \\'ork. She didn't "have to." That always seen1ed to be one "1'111

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of Iny 1l10ther's prillle requisites. But those days were far over. I hadn't felt '"ohligated" by tnaternallove since Mexico. But, if this \vere to work out, it would nl~lke a lot of people happy. And that would be unique. After I reported back to P.S.L. I received a letter fron1 Elnily alInost e\'ery day. And I Inade a point of telephoning. But that was tough. Elnily explained th:.lt because of the difficult housing of serviceillen and -WOlllen, those not directly involved with the war effort were forced to v.1cate their hotel every three days. Now, this bec3tne 3 big problelll of COIllJllUnication. But its surprising "reined)," nearly "done us in." 1 obtained a hurried pennission to fly to New York on a Friday Inorning to see Iny gal. The whole Photo Science Lab secll1ed to know I'd gotten hooked, and everyone wanted to help. Barney arranged the weekend p'1SS, and I hight.1iled it off to the big city. There had been no way to reach EInily in such a hurry, so I left messages in all the hotels she'd been forced to vacate. I also told tny new rOOll1Blate, Lt. Richard Koch, to open Illy Inail and get in touch with Elnily if she had .1 new address. 1 knew I could find her Friday afternoon through her agency, but I was on the plane before their office opened. I checked in at the Pierre and was lucky to find one single roon1 with a queen-size hed still avaibblc. T'his W.1S e~\rly afternoon. By four o'clock I was frantic. No one had even spoken with her for two days. She hadn't even left a tnessage with her agency. I telephoned l)ick Koch ,1IHi he assured Ine that I had no Inail. lIe did, however, tell n1e that Lt. Carlson had called froIn Chicago and was Hying into New York that evening. I Ie was planning on staying at the Sherry-Netherland. \,Vell, .It least I knew where be \\';lS. ()r I thought I did. At ten o'clock, when I hadn't heard fr0l11 anyone, I telephoned the Sherry-Netherland just to say hello to Dick. \Vell, he had a reservation, but he hadn't arrived. At eleven fifteen there was a furtive knock on l11y door. I w;lited .1 nl0lnent to be sure I had heard correctly. T'hen, there it V.·~lS again. 'Vhen I opened the door, Eillily's lunging elnhrace knocked Inc hack onto the bed. 'rhe r00l11 was so SI11::111 I was able to push the door closed with Iny foot, and we by there laughing before the shock of her entrance wore off. I sat up strclig-ht and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Are you crazy! How did you get up here?" "T'he saine way you did. I took the elevator." "And no one saw you?" "Just Billy, the elevator boy, and I tipped hiln ten hucks. I Ie thinks 1'111 a hooker." I stopped laughing. "Enlily, there are no 'hookers' in the stuffiest hotel in New York. \\1e're in a lot of trouble. And where have you heen?" She really had the giggles and it took another Ininute before I got an .lnswer.

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"'.\lothl!r Hew in frolll Evansville. I've spent two days with her at the Waldorf '()\vers. Now shl! knows all about you. I telephoned you an hour ago, and Dick Koch told Inc Volt WL're hl!rl!. So here I an1." HErn, you can't stay here. \Ve'll have to Illove sOlne ... " :'\:ow she really burst out laughing. "No we won't. l"here isn't a decent hotel rOOI11 left in ;\CW York. I had to vacate tny last three-day hotel r00l11 the day .vlother arrived." Before I could think of anything, there was another knock on the door. It was happy, jolly, fun-loving Lt. C:arlson. And he didn't have any place to stay either. It seeilled he'd Inet a few friends on the plane frolll Chicago, had a few drinks \\rith thern, and a couple of others in the Sherry-Netherland's bar before he decided to check in. And, what do you know? They'd sold his reservation. This really struck all of us so funny that we collapsed onto the bed laughing uproariously. '('hen to nlake 1l1atters worse, Dick relnen1bered a song frolll his youth and started to sing it at the top of his lungs. And, after a few choruses, Elnily and I joined in. Fourteen Inen in a boarding house bed, Roll over, roll over. Everyone rolled when anyone spoke. Roll over, roll over. ()ne little fellow thought it a joke :\'ot to roll over when anyone spoke, And in the shuffle he got his neck broke. Roll over, rollover! \\'e were halfway through the fifth chorus when the house detective, not heing able to I1lake hiI11self heard, used his passkey to gain entrance to our little [(lOin. \Vell, there we were-in bcd, fully clothed, but in bed. I think he recognized IJick, llnd EI11ily was beautiful and seel11ingly unconcerned with what had transpired, so I did Illy hest to he gaily nonchalant. I hurriedly explained that the young bd~' \\'.}S Illy wife, Iny brand-new wife at that. The house detective thought about that for .1 Illuch-too-Iong 11101nent, then decided to "buy" Iny excuse. He did. however, suggest that both Dick and I sign new registration cards. And wouldll't you know-he had ;1 handful of theln with hiln. Dick vaulted out of bed with ~l nourish and signed his card. '{'hen I stepped over the foot of the bed, rather chllnsily, and held the rl!gistration card up against the white wall to sign our nalnes: "Ensign .1nd i\1rs. ()scar Boettichcr Jr." It would have worked, except that 1 wrote the Unichcr Jr." off the card on to the wall-in big black scroll. The house detective ;lssurcd tlle not to worry because the luaid would clean the ink off in the Ill( )rning. I landing Ine a second c.ud to properly sign, he told the three of us to sleep tight, hut not to plan on being at the Hotel Pierre tOlllorrow. We didn't

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question him, but with all the problenls of finding rOOI11S for the needy service personnel, we figured sOlneone else I11USt have reserved our little spot for the following day. But, all's well that ends well. Dick, C;ene Kelly and I c0l11pleted [.{Iell Done on schedule, and it was exceptionally well received by all the top Navy brass. Eventually we all were awarded presidential cOI11Inendations for what we had been able to achieve. With all the wartn and wonderful 111elnories of the service years, one very "Hollywood" event still stands out above the rest. C:0l11111odore (~ene l\!larkey requested Lt. Carr to assign an officer and crew to filtn Mrs. Bess 'lruillan's christening of the war's first "Mercy Airship"-a beautiful airplane, white with ~1 gigantic red cross painted on each side. It was to be flown through eneIny territory to transport lnedicine to the base hospitals, and to quickly carry the seriously wounded to elnergency hospitals without having to cirCUlllvcnt enCIny territory. The red crosses on the plane would identify it to the enelny ground and air forces, and the aircraft would be properly respected. Our fihll would be edited, then turned over to the \\!hite House. Captain Markey explained that it would bc a personal favor to hilTI to have the job exceptionally well done. \Vell, I got the job. During several telephone calls to the White I--Iouse, I was able to learn that Margaret Trunlan was to accolnpany her 1l10ther at the christening of the ~lirship. I immediately made arrangeInents for three dozen red roses to be sent to 1\1iss Trunlan, with a personal note of explanation requesting that she carry the bouquet at the ceremony. It was Iny intention to begin our filrn with a giant close-up of the roses, then pull back to reveal the entire assclnbly of officers and dignitaries standing directly beneath the plane's giant red cross. The day of the christening arrived bright and shiny. l'1y Clllneralnan, Arthur Napoleon, and I stationed ourselves directly in front of the 111crcy plane's bright red cross, leaving adequate rOOI11 for Mrs. 'IrullIan, Marg~1ret and the variolls dignitaries to position thelnselves on each side of the ladies. '\leJl, it developed into the longest line of top brass I'd ever seen. Every adilliral-down through full commander-who wasn't on active duty in the Pacific showed up to fOrIn that line. But they formed it for the black-and-white newsreel C1I11cras. \Ve were shooting color, and Arthur and I found ourselves looking dOL1.'1I the line of gold braid, not at it. And we could barely see Mrs. and Miss 'Irulnan sOInewhere in its middle. I could just about tell where they were froIn the few red roses sticking out from all that Navy blue and gold. It was tinlc for action. 'rhe cercIllollY W~lS ~lh()ut to start. "Miss Truman," I called. But she couldn't hear Ine over the crowd noise. I tried again-a little louder. No one Ill0ved. "Honey!" I finally yelled at the top of Illy lungs. \\fords like that just pop out if you've directed Inovies. Well, this tilne Margaret heard Inc. And now evcryonc

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could hear t''i.'t'rytbil1g. bec~nlse it got very quiet, .\liss TruInan sUlck her head out of the line to look down ~lt Inc. \Vhat the hell, I was a dead duck anyway, so 1 gut-

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H.\liss 'I'rulnan," I continued, "would you please swing around to face Ine? rill the one who sent the roses." \ \'elL what a gal! .\liss 'fruInan siniled and s\\rung around all right. And with her, on each side of her and her 1l10ther, all the top brass in V\'ashington "s\\ung ~lr()lInd" too. I glanced o\'er at Arthur l\'apoleon who was looking through the lens. ;\rthur had a great sense of hUInor. I-Ie was 1l1urnbling, loud enough for Ine to hear, "()ur Father, \ \ art in heaven ... " :'\'ow I'd heard that :\drniral King was the toughest cOll1Inander the Navy haJ ever produced. Let Ine verify that. I--Ie u'as! He was on ~\1rs. lru111an's right, and I could feci those beady eres burning a hole through both Ine and our calnera . .. ... hallowed be rrhy naIne," I finished, and then said" Roll 'elll" very quietly to ~~lpolcon. ~\lrs. ~InlIllan sIlliled; .V1argaret slniled, and \ve c0I11pleted one hell of an opening sequence. 'rhcn sOll1ething rcally unexpected happened. Mrs. Tnnnan couldn't break the challlpagnc bottle over the nose of the plane. Nine tilnes she crashed that bottle ag.linst the Incrcy ship, but it had no 1l1ercy. Finally, exhausted, she dropped her ann-still holding the unbroken chalnpagne hottle-and a ~1arine C:aptain standing below her platfortll broke the stubborn glass with a hatchet. Now, I don't know what in the devil the captain was doing down there with a hatchet, but both '\Irs. 'lI-lllllan and I were vastly relieved. She was a wonderful sport and hurst out bll~hing along with her sensational daughter. And I have been a Bess and .\larg.lfct 'II-Ulllan fan ever since.

no

Back at the Photo Science Lab, I thought a long time about what I wanted to do. It \\"~lS ~lftcr Inidnight before I rnade up Iny I1lind. Sitting down at the Moviola, 1 slowly edited all of L\1rs. ~1I-Ulnan's futile attenlpts to the "Anvil Chorus." Bang, han~. hang, bang, the ll1usic went. And it really cut together. It was a work of art. 'l'he following tllorning I showed the finished product to Barney and he died bu!-!hing. lIe, in turn, ran it for COJ1lnlOdore Markey. Now I've never been sure whether (;cne 1\1arkey also liked 111e or decided it was high-tinle to send Ine back to J {olJywood. But two days later I got a telephone call from the cOlnmodore. He adviscd rne that President lrulnan had enjoyed Iny fihn, and had said, "1'111 not at all ccrtain that I'IJ ever show this dmnn thing to Bess." ~ ow, to th is day, I'vc never had the pleasure of Ineeting Marga ret, hlit-hcc~1l1SC of that eventful afternoon-I was fortunate enough to luck-out a couple of l1leetings with her dad. l\ly final joh of \,Vorld \ATar II was fihning the Easter Egg Hunt in the rose garden. It w.lsn't Illy 1l1ost exciting piece of fihn action, but, danln it, I was proud

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all over. Now don't misjudge nle by thinking these accounts of Iny non-participation in the great war are Ineant to be facetious or disrespectful. I would love to have filmed John Huston's The Battle of Sa71 Pietro. Now THAT was war reporting! But I just did the best I could with what they gave Ine-which wasn't l11uch. HUITIility is not my style, but you can be as hUlnble as dirt about what you accoInplished during that period if your pal, and partner, up to when he was killed, was L.\.udic Murphy-Anlerica's I1lost decorated soldier. **********

I had a strange gut-enlptiness as I closed the front door of Iny apartlnent in Peretski Plaza for the last tinle. Dick Koch had been discharged froIll the Navy two weeks before. He had (gladly) accepted a position at the Museunl of 1\'iodern Art in New York City and, as Slll::ut as that young fella was, I was sure one day he'd be the curator. My wonderfully crazy pal Richard Carlson had departed for Los Angeles over a Inonth ago. M.G.M. was already talking about their big production of King Sol07uon:" A1incs with Deborah Kerr and Stewart Granger, and Dick was up for the third leading role. And, Jack Benton, dear old Jack! C;od, I hoped he ,vas well and would live forever. I couldn't help reineillbering Iny reaction to the Japanese bOIl1bing of Pearl Harbor. I was certain that no one Iny age would still be alive by this till1e, and I was resigned to that fact. Now, here it was April 27, 1946, and I was not only alive, but I'd finally found the girl I wanted to nlarry, and I seriously believed I had a career ahead of Ine in the world's 1l10st fascinating business. I didn't understand Iny good fortune. Many of nly Culver Military schoohnates had lost their lives during the war, and it was tough not to brood about that. Still, when you've been this fortunate, you'd daInned well better take advantage of it just as long as you can. However, I had one I110re extreIl1ely important question to ask SOll1eone in New York. I took the afternoon train to Grand Central Station. I was still in unifonn, but I had been a civilian for twenty-six hours and fifteen Ininutes. Renlell1bering, vividly, my last visit to the I-lotel Pierre, I thought it wiser to check in at the Sherry-Netherland. Anyway, it was closer to the New York Athletic (:Iub, and I had an ilnportant date there for dinner. I was really looking forward toward seeing Illy Uncle Mike. Mansfrcd Fuhrer was Iny Inother's distant cousin and one of the best-looking rascals I'd ever known. I had adored hinl frolll the tillle I could walk. His nicknanle was Mike-why I don't know. There was nothing "Mike-like" ~bout hilll. ~Ic w.as ~lll class, extremely successful, and all those years I was a kid I couldn t walt for

65

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Aug-ust first to cOlne around because Uncle Mike would visit us every SUInnler for the fuillnonth of August, wherever we were-Hyannisport, Lauderdale, wherever 1l1Y falnily had decided to spend the SUl11nler. Dad was very busy making Inoney. lIe was always very busy. He didn't seem to mind at all that when he left froll1 wherever we were at the end of July, Uncle Mike would arrive a few days later. ()h, no, dad knew he was coming. I'd heard mother and dad discussing it. My t~lthcr thought it was a daInn good thing to always have "a man around the house." \\'ell, Uncle .vlike looked like a nlillion bucks when we hugged each other in tht; Athletic (Jub foyer. Of course, he could have afforded to look like a hell of a lot Il10re than that, and what alwavs alnazed Ine was that Uncle Mike never changed. I-Ie just always looked, well, young and great. He ushered me to his usual table in the dining roonl and we brought each other up to date on New York, \ Vashington, the stock Inarket, Hollywood-everything we could think of during four double 111artinis-apiece. \Vhat Uncle Mike didn't know was that the potted pal111 next to Illy chair was the happiest potted palm in the history of the ~ew York Athletic (:lub. That's where Iny Inartinis had been secretly deposited. 1 wanted to be cold sober for this important scene. "l\like," I said clearly, looking directly into Iny favorite uncle's still-clear blue eyes, "arc you [ny father?" I had expected a big shock-reaction, but he never changed his expression. "I wish J were," he said, "but 1'111 not." ".\1ike, please level with Ine." Reaching into Iny pocket I extracted a copy of In}' birth certitlcate frOI11 the discharge papers, and handed it across the table to hinl. "I never gave a dailln ahout all the rumors," 1 continued. "But, now, Mike, I \a.'ant to know. You'll notice that there aren't any witnesses' names on that birth certi ficate." .\like nodded and handed the paper back to Ine. "Did you mean-anl I your father with your 1l10thcr:" "llell no, I just \vant to know who I arne Do I have any brothers or sisters? Are Ill}' real parents still alive and do they need help? Please, Mike, telltne!" i'\ow his expression did change. l-lis eyes were filled with deep understanding ~lnd cornpassioll. lIe chose his words very carefully. ~~['\'e heen expecting this conversation for years. I never really figured out just exactly what I would say. I J1lade a prolnise to C;eorgia and I intend to keep it. :\11 I Cll1 tell you is ... you lin' adopted, and both your parents died the day you were horn." "'l'hat's crazy!" I blurted out. "It's the truth. I swear it!" And I believed hiln. I starred looking down at the veins in my hands, then switched to snldying Iny fingernails. What the hell else was there to ask--or even say?

\'" II F;'\

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Uncle Mike broke the deadly silence. "You've heard your parents speak of Dr. Joseph B. DeLee?" I nodded. ~~Well, go find hinl. The last I heard he had retired and 1110ved to La Jolla,

California. He delivered you, Budd. He's an old, old nlan, but Inaybe he will he able to reInelnber everything you want to know." We ordered another round of vodka Inartinis, and this tit1le the potted plant was out of luck. Ernily was waiting in the hotel lobhy \\Then I walked through the front door. Seeing her again made what I'd just been through seenl very Inuch worth the pain and effort. I probably would have let the "adoption" question stay hidden in the background for a few 1110re years if it hadn't been for the surprising revelation to Inyself that I was finally ready for Inarriage. You just don't ask a girl to heCOIl1C your wife when her children Inay never really know who they are or where they caine froln. And you can't possibly plan on carrying such a lie through generation after generation. I had walked slowly along the sidewalk frol11 the Athletic (]lIh trying to piece together the 111enlories of Iny earlier reactions to the gossip involving Iny adoption. I was only eight when little "Biddy" Stevens, our neighbor frotn across the street, asked nle if I knew what "adopted" Incant. I had told her that I didn't and she said: "vVell, you'd hetter find out, 'cause that's wh.lt you arc." I renlelllber vividly that it frightened tne, but nlother g.lVC tnc ~l long, clrcful explanation, then read Inc the definition frol11 the dictionary: "'Ic) take into sotl1C new relationship, as that of son, heir, etc." I thought I understood it, but the only thing that Inattered to Ine, then, was that tnother said: "}'Oll are 'In)' son!" I-leek, that was good enough for 111e until I was fifteen. But after Iny first headline as a young athlete, I needed a Illore thorough explanation. 'Three "close friends" told 1l1C that their parents had said I wasn't really a Boetticher. ()ne actually suggested that I shouldn't be so elated with Illy sudden success, that: "(;osh, YOll don 't even know who you are." I dropped hilll backwards into his clothes locker and hightailed it for h01ne. When I confronted Iny parents with a delnand for the truth, Iny father walked out of the r00111, while 1l1other knelt down in front of tnv chair ~lnd explained that I Illust ignore slIch ugly gossip. My cousin, rIC)lnnlY, who \\'ilS live years older, had been adopted. Everyone in town knew that and, now, people were Inerely getting the two of us Inixed lip. She explained that gossips were like that-cruel and vicious-and for Inc to sinlply ignore theln. l'he 1110re Sllccess I achieved in athletics, the Illore people would talk. llell, when you're tlftecn and riding high, you want to believe everything that's good ,'tnd just conccntr.lte on your future. Well, I sat Illy future bride, Elnily C:ook, down and hrought her lip to date on everything. She wasn't at all surprised or concerned with Iny revelation, and

67

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said she had heard that adoption gossip for years. "'Sweetheart," she said, "everyone else in the world is trying to discover who ther tire. You '\'e just found out, for sure, who you aren't. So, now you're on your own, with nobody to get in your way but yourself." It was a typical Ernily Cook reaction, and I figured it was the right time to ask her to 1l1arrv Inc. She said, "Of course," and I took the early morning plane to San l)iego. I intended to find Dr. Joseph DeLee in La Jolla before mother and dad ever knew I was back in California. I taxied froIn the San Diego airport to La ) o11a, and it took Ine less than a Ininute to find the telephone number and address of Dr. Joseph B. DeLee. The telephone directory listed Dr. DeLee's Iniddle name as "Bolivar," but when he answered Illy call, and I explained who I was, he sounded anything but militant. It \vas the Iniddle of the afternoon and he had already had lunch, but he invited 1l1e over illlillcdiately for potluck with whatever his cook could find for me to cat. \\'hat a wonderful experience it was just to meet this great man. I)r. DeLee had raised the founding money for the world's very first maternity hospital in C:hicago. It had been a gigantic undertaking, against numerous devastating odds, hut he had succeeded. He was an old, old man when I shook his hand that afternoon, but he still sparkled with a youthful vitality. He remembered ()scar and C;corgia very well. He twinkled when he asked me if my mother was as good lookin' as ever. I said that she was. And then I told him why I had come to visit hilll. lIe didn't seenl at all surprised, except to hear that I had never learned the truth of Iny adoption. He believed every child should be made aware of that. I assured hinl that I adored my parents but, now, I thought it important to my future to learn the whole truth. More important, I assured him that I would never reveal this Ineeting to either nly mother or father, and if I had only known the truth I prohahly would have been a much more appreciative "son" during all these years. I Ie could tell that I was sincere, but-if it had been anyone else in this world-l would never have believed his story. i\1y parents were hoth fronl the New York area. They fell in love when my father was I H and Illy 1l1other was one year younger. He wasn't at all certain, hut he thought theln to he of directly opposite ethnic and religious backgrounds, as they had run away to C:hicago when both sets of parents opposed the marriage . .\1y 1l1other died during delivery when I was born. My father, 19 then, left the h()spit~ll in deep despair, and only a few minutes later walked directly onto the t ra<:ks of an approaching trolley car. Dr. DeLee did not think it was suicide. He'd known and 'ldInired Illy young dad for nlany months, and suicide was sinlply out of the question. Now, Uncle Mike had not lied. Both my parents had been dead within an hour. Anyv.ray, Dr. DeLee got in touch with Georgia Boetticher, who had heen under his care for years in an endeavor to have children. He picked the

6H

WHEN

IN

DISGRACE

Boettichers because he thought highly of theIn, and he knew that they were in a financial position to properly care for the child. In those days there were 110 formal problems of adoption. Georgia and Oscar came to Chicago to gct 1l1C, and that was that. He ended his story by telling me he thought I was a very fortunate young fella. I put my arms around him and held hinl tight. "You're damn right I aln!" I said. It was a long bus ride from La Jolla to Los Angeles. '[here \\'·ere a lot of service men on the bus from the San Diego bases, sailors and nlarines on their way home. Most of them were lucky to be alive. But, s0111ehow I felt that I was the luckiest of them all. The adoption nunor had irritated 1l1C for years, but I had seriously believed that the rumors were mistaken. Now, I finally knew the truth about everything-from people who cared about the Boettichers and felt kindly toward me. I had never really gotten to know Illy father hut, now, for the first time since I had grown up, I understood my nlOln. She'd always been an unhappy enigma to me. Of course I loved her, but each time I thought I had her figured out, she did some dreadful thing. Every tilne, since grade school, I thought I had found a girlfriend, Inother got rid of her in nlystically Inysterious ways. But now I knew it wasn't because she thought they weren't "good enough" for her son. Jesus, she was playing the rejected partner. It wasn't a weird or unhealthy situation that would delight Inost psychiatrists. It was just that Iny 1l10ther didn't relish losing anything. But, in the beginning she had wanted 111e, not just a baby. Vvhen she thought she couldn't have a child of her own she picked Ute out. \\Thy she didn't tell Ine the truth was childish and stupid. And, if her decision was based on ego, that she had to be perfect in everything, well ... that was sad. Now I had a whole new life before Ine, and I was going to do Iny danlndest to tnake C;eorgia Boetticher happy. Half of that happiness was already a cinch. She'd adore Enlily. And I'd really try to learn something about Dad. Those wonderful folks weren't going to live forever, and it was Iny obligation to Inake their lives a bit richer. However, I promised Inyself one Inost important thing. Neither one of thenl would ever know that I had finally learned the truth. I'd just let this new knowledge payoff for them. I'd do Iny best to Inake rheIn proud.

6<)

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T \\'AS :\BSOLCTELY \\'O~DERFCL TO BE BACK IN THE BUSINESS TI-L\T I

now so dearly loved. All of the Il10tion picture n1en and wOlnen who were in the sen'ice were guaranteed their jobs back at the sanle salary during their first full year as civilians, but I had a n1uch better offer to move to Hal Roach Studios with a salary that was far IHore substantial than that of Iny contract at C:olUlnhia Pictures. It wasn't too difficult to obtain Illy release as none of 111y five ColUlnbia "filler" filnls had exactly set the world on fire. So I 1110ved to Iny pal, llal Jr. 's, C:ulvcr C:ity establishlnent and reported for work. It was Hal's idea to In~lkc vcry sophisticated fifty-Ininute comedy filIns with top stars, and four of us were ilwardcd scvcn-year contracts-Barney Carr, Edward Montagne, Harve Foster and IllC. ~rhe studio set us up in beautiful bungalow offices, and we sat, and sat, and Silt waiting for our individual filIns to be scheduled. In the lneantinle I Illovcd to the Shangri La Aparttnent Hotel in Santa Monica and began making arrangclllcnts for Elnily's arrival and our approaching tnarriage. I was right in l11y helief that i\1other would love the idea of a daughter-in-law such as En1ily Erskine (:ook. She'd known the falnily ahnost all of her life and rernen1bered very well Eillily's childhood friendship with Iny little brother. Oh, yes, Henry Boetticher was for real. 1\1other had hiln eight years after Iny adoption vvith no problenls at all. l)r. l)cLee had assured t11e that 111y father was not the reason for Mother's inahility to conceive. l-Ie felt that Mother, at that tilne, just wasn't ready to accept the ul1colllfortahle situation of pregnancy and labor. So she simply had rejected Dad's very ,nanly spcrrn. That was n1y Mother for you. She'd let us know when she wantcd to have a hahy of her own. Anyway, I kept Iny secret and both my parents looked forward to the uniting of the Boettichers and the Cooks. Mother did think I had ch~lnged, though. I explained that war changes everyone. Mother would h~lVC loved Peretski Plaza.

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DISGRACE

'fhe unfortunate thing about 1l1arriage plans that year was that I-lal Jr. beat Ine to it. I was his best ]11an, but only in the eyes of the groOIn. 1 Ie had Llllen in love with beautiful Dolly Hunt, the ex-wife of \Villis }-Iunt of yachts and society. Now, Dolly didn't like I11e-a lot. She felt thilt } was a bad influence for Illy hest friend, which proved she re.ally didn't know I-Ial very well. Anyway, she set about changing his i]nage to fit her visions of how a husband should appear. She hought hi]n big cigars and a 111,11l1nloth gold belt buckle inscrihed with uIl.R. Jr.," \\'hich advertised that he was the second head of the snHiio right behind his dad. I)olly didn't believe in C;entle]nen's Lib or ~1acho Rights, so I really tried not to Illind too nluch \vhen her young husband started calling 111e "']l1Y hoy." \Vhat the hell, he was Iny best friend. ()r \vas he? That question had begun to bother ]11e a great deal Illore than the fact absolutely nothing was happening at the studio. \Ye four directors sat around in Ineeting after Inceting with 11<11 and listened to hill1 pontificate. There he was, voun{!er than I runnin(T b the snldio with talented, l'xI)erienced l11en like Barney and Harve and Eddie 1\1011tagne sitting there day after d~l~' listening to his ideas, while none of these ideas was anywhere ncar being rr~lnsf()nl1ed . into a l11ovie. I had always loved, Hal froll1 altllost the da\,. we Inet at Culver, but . now I had to face facts. \Ve had been aJxlrt for ne~lrly ten years since then, ~llHI I Lli just wasn't the saIne person. I was to learn that there is ~l devastating disease in l-follywood called "produceritis." It begins with a big desk and Inostly :If"fects the young. Maybe Illy pal had contracted tbllt.' An)'\vay, I still loved hill1, but when Enlily arrived for our June wedding, Rich~lnl Carlson W.1S ]llY best l11an. PS.L. was well represented that eventful day. C:harlcs l\tlrquis \V.llTen and his Anne \vere there and, of course, Illy belove(i B.lrney C:.1rr and Ilelen, who "nursed" and fed Ine throughout l11any loneso]ne evenings at Pererski Pbza. And slnashing Mona C:arlson was El11ily's 111aid of honor. She :Ind Elnily h:HI hecoIne friends ahnost il1lIllediately upon Elnily's arrival three days before the wedding. Mona Carlson was very easy to learn to like in
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orated in such an unnecessary fashion, but Hal seeilled contented with his lot, and that at least pleased [ne. I did, however, think it was high time that he got sOlne iJea as to Illy teelin~TS about his wife. And, as Iny good luck would have it, a wonderful opportunity presented itself. I)olly had planned a dinner party for her friends during the holidays and she thought it l11ight be a great idea to run S0l11e of my 16n1111 bullfight filrn for her !-,TucstS. I-Ial knew that I considered IllOSt of Dolly's society friends stuffed shirts and hon;s, but we both got so filled with holiday spirits at the srudio Christlnas party that he genuinely enjoyed the idea of my diabolical plan. \\Te COITIInandeered a stag reel froIn one of the Roach ernployees and brilliantly spliced several cuts of outstanding pornography into the action of Fernlin Espinosa, "Arnlillita," and the bulls. \Vell, it was directly after a stupendous dinner, when Inost of Dolly's elegant guests were sleepy frolll food and wine, that the Inonlent arrived to run our show. I fal and I sat in the rear of the darkened room and watched the head action of the guests as Iny Illovie progressed. The heads moved left to right, and right to left, as the black bulls raced back and forth across the screen. But, near the end of the show, the heads suddenly bobbed up and down-three different times-for just a IllOIllcnt. But no one cOIllInented; no one spoke. None of the ladies dared. Most of the Inen actually thought they had fallen asleep and had a pleasant dreanl. And that was thc only artistically worthwhile thing I accomplished during that whole dalnn inactive year at Hal Roach Studios. At the end of the first year, Barney and Harve had each Blade a film, and both wcre exceptionally well done. But the market wasn't really excited about tiftY-111inutc cOlneoies, and the plan certainly looked as if it were going to fail. Eddic .\1ontagne ITIoved on to eventually becolne a top television producer. And it was tinlc I also 1l1oved on-to anywhere else. I hated to leave Hal Roach Sr. ffe had always been like a second father to Ine. So I just sort of rationalized I was only leaving Iial Roach Studios for the tiIne being. '(\\,o weeks after Iny departure, I got a real "l-Iollywoocl" call frOIll Iny real '~llollywo()d" agent, I-Ieri> 'Ic)bias. Wloby" was Nat C;oldstone's right-hand l11all at the (;oldstollc AgencY" lie was truly a hot shot and I liked hitll a lot. But ... '41Yju evcr hear of Brynie Foy?" he shouted over the telephone. I told hinl I'd hC~lrd of tht "Seven Little Foys," hut I'd never tllanaged to find out which one was Brynie. "\Vell, Brynie just took over Eagle Lion Srudios," Toby continued, "and I got you a two-picture dell. I told Brynie that you were the gentile Sanlll1Y Fuller." HJesus C:hrist, 'I()b/' I screaIlled, "I'd rather be the Jewish John Ford!" But, with that kind of dialogue, I knew I was finally back in I-Iollywood. I took the job, hut best of all, when I got to know Sa[n Fuller later, I told hiIll the story ;lnd he loved it. "I-Iell," he said, "I'd settle for being the Kcntile John Ford any day in the wcek."

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The two Eagle Lion filtns were fun, nothing Inore. 'T'hey were both produced by a delightful young fella, Eugene Ling. I-Ie and his pretty wife, Betty, became close friends of ours, and he was one of the few producers with WhOlll I ever cared to spend tinle. I have, however, two fond Inelllories of that period. Gene RaYlllond was the leading 111an in OlY first picture, .Assigned to l)flJ1ger, and I renleInber absolutely ,narveling at the beauty of ~1rs. C;ene RaYlnond as I sat across froln her at dinner at their hODle. Jeanette MacDonald was even I1H)re attractive off the screen than on. I have never seen such coloring. I-Ier hair and cOlnplexion were storybook painting. The second unsurprising Inell10ry was that Richard Carlson was just as fine an actor as I thought he would be. We nlade Behind Locked IJoon" together with the lovely M.Ci.M. actress Lucille Breoler, and every day all the set was a pleasure. But these, again, were black-and-white fillers and Iny career wasn't going anyv"hcrc. Then along CaIne Lindsley Parsons, a hard-working, talented producer of B fihns. He and I got along fatnously, which W;.lS not par for the course. Lind wanted to make good pictures, and he had young Roddy McDowall under contract, so that was a dall1ned good start. Roddy becanle one of Iny real favorites. We l11ade three pictures together and they we;e quite good. Now, you JllUSt relllclllber, on these little two-week shows, you weren't Inaking Gone With tb(' Wind. Nothing that transpired on those filnls is worth relating to SOllle ardent filIn srudent to help further his career. But, once in awhile, SOlne situations beclIne so ludicrous tha t they bear tel Ii n g. It was on a shark picture being fihned in Ensenada, Mexico. J\1y young pal, Roddy, was the star and had just becolne 21-no Illore chaperons ilnd no nlore parents on location. Roddy McDowall was finally on his own, ilnd the photograph of a young actress he brought into Iny office wa~ sitnply gorgeous. fIer face was a painting. I was sure it had been retouched. But I was dead wrong. \\Then he brought her in to Ineet Ine, she was Inore beautiful in the tlesh than in black and white. She looked Latin, which the part c;llled for, and she wore .1 billowing Mexican skirt and lacy blouse th.lt cinched the deal. I knew I was right in casting her and that Roddy had silnply wasted his tinle with all his pleading and begging. All he had to do was show her. No director or producer in town W.1S going to rurn down that face. It was Sunday, before the first day of filrning, and I was busy shaving when E'nily walked into the hotel suite hathrool11. "Have you seen your leading lady in a SWilllSuit?" she inquired. "Nope," I I11ulnbled, still shaving, "but I'll bet she's dynalnite." Elnily grahbed a towel off the rack and headed for the door. "If your first scene on the beach tOlllorrow is with her in a hathing suit, you'd better go take a look," she said, siniling, and headed t()r the hal1.

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:\11 ( could think of was that

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gorgeous young star had picked out a suit that would bt: frowned on even in burlesque. Well, she'd just have to pick out sOIHething else Illuch less censorable. 'rhat's not a big deal. However, I finished shaving in a hurry and followed Illy wife to the beach. \ \rel], to say ( was shocked would be putting it favorably. My star, with the facc of ~ln angel, possessed the body of a hippo. No wonder she'd worn the .\lexicln skirt ~lnd blouse. I looked all over the beach for Roddy, but he was nowhere to he found. '(,hc following 1110rning I beat the crew to the beach. The l1l0Inent I saw nly le~l<Jing bdy, all bundled up in a robe, I took her aside to Blake a suggestion. Pbcing Iny hand on hers, I told her that, in Iny opinion, she was about to becolne the l110st hC~luti ful star of the silver screen. People would relnember that face "until the cows corne h(»ne." I think I said something sir11ple like that, so she would understand. 'rhen I went on: "\\~hen you are listening to Roddy, in that r110st irnportant speech of his, rt:I11CJ11her that .111 the young t11en in the theater audience won't be looking at Roddy. 'rhey'll he looking at you." She nodded-knov,!ingly. "But," ( continued, "they won't be looking just at your beautiful face. They'll he studying your body. So renlcIllber, sweetheart-renlenlber to hold your s«)]nach in." I thought that would at least take care of a couple of inches. Well, when Roddy's Illost irnportant scene in the picture began to unfold, she did hold her sto)nach in. Roddy kept on telling her that their rOlnance wouldn't work, that he ... Just then a sea gull floated across the skl' and, C;od bless her, she looked up to study its tlight. ( said, uC:ut," ~lS quietly as I could, and we prepared to try it ;lg;lin. \\'e II , four 1l10rc tilnes we attel11pted to filrn that scene. First it was another gull, then a fishing boat a half-l11ile out at sea, a bus pulling up to the pier, and tin;llly the plane frot11 ,\tlcxico C:iry on the way to l'ijuana. The crew was getting the giggles, Roddy was turning redder by the Illinute, and I figured I'd hetter get on with SOlllC high-powered directing. I excused Inyself to young Mr. McDowall and walked hcr a few yards down the sand. "(loney," [ hegan, "( \\'ant to explain to you the 1l1ost ilnportant thing in filnl al'lin~, Le~lrn to Ji.\"ft'll. Forget that you've read the script and know the next line y()ur fellow ~lctl)r is about to deliver. Look into his eyes when he speaks. That will In: the r't'/)' jir.\"t (illlt' you've ever heard what he is saying. Listen to Roddy, sweetIlea rt, li.,·(t'll to h illl!" She tilted her head to one side .1nd looked forlornly into Illy weary eyes. "But rOll told 111t: to hold Illy stoInach in," she said.

i4

Illy

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********** Nothing, absolutely nothing was happening with Ill}' directorial career. J\llost of my friends and business associates never would have believed that this bothered me, but it most assuredly did. Of course I didn't play the I-Iollywood ganle of hiring an expensive press agent and spending Iny nights at parties. ~rhe old adage of "Never worry what the newspapers say as long as they spell your nanle righe' is ;1 lot of crap. Certainly Iny Inovies were reviewed as "nice little pictures," but] wanted one hell of a lot nlore than that. I watched "directors" who coulun't carry Iny camera-finder progress rapidly to bigger budgets and better 1l1ovies, and I finally realized that the only way anything irllportant WilS going to h'lppen to Inc was for me to write and direct sOInething really different. So, 1 was working fr;Jntically on a Inuch longer version of Illy original treatll1ent of '/O1"l'1'O (BlI1lJigbter and the Lady) when I got a telephone call frolll I-Ial Jr. I--Ie spoke as if \VC were sti II at Culver-full of vitality and warrnth. I-Ie wanted a favor. And what a favor! Hal had just signed a contract with Fonl-Magnavox and was going to produce the very first one-hour Illotion picture specifically designed for television. He explained to nle, right up front, that he had little l110ney to spend on the director. I figured that this was the first part of the favor, so I settled on his suggested five hundred dollars-for the entire show. C0111e Oil, he used to be Illy hest friend! Then he got down to brass tacks. The show was to he '/'bc 'J'hrec Musketeers-not a chapter, but the whole daIlln book. 'rhe shooting script \\';1S only sixty-nine pages and the schedule was to he three days. In those days, actors got fifty-five dollars for a full Hten-hour day." 'VeIl, we went out and got quite a bunch: Robert (]ark, John Hubh.lrd, ivlcl Archer, Paul Cavanaugh and Marjorie Lord (Anne Archer's Illother) to play, rcspcctivdy, D'Artagnan, Athas, Porthos, Richclieu and Ana dc Austria. Unfortunatdy, \VC went a half-day over schedule, which greatly upset Illy producer. But the fil1l1 showed Thanksgiving afternoon on Ford-Magnavox 'rhc.lter and \\'.1S ~1 great artistic success. I took Iny five-hundred-dollar check, c.lshed it in a hurr~.' :1nd headed back to Iny typewriter. That had been degrading. Regressing to a threeand-a-half-day 1110vie was a long way frolll the luxury of the twelve days I'd becolne used to. It was high tinle I really got to work on ']orero. Maybe that Inight save nly life. Then, over the distant hill rode the I)uke to rescue Jne frolll all of thc Indians. I'd seen it happen l11any tiIllCS before, but I ne\'cr drcal11cd it would h'1ppen to I11e. I was finally able to I1lake BullJigbfl·r "lJd tbe L{/{~)'-thanks, '111110SI" cOlnpletely, to John Wayne. One of Iny fondest 111elnories of that period was thc Illceting we h~HI in the office of Herbert J. Yates, head of Republic Pictures. 'rhc whole g'ang \\'as there:

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rrhc Duke, Grant "Tithers, who had introduced Ine to Wayne; Robert Newman, head of production; Andy McLaglen, my loyal assistant director-who really cared; and James Edward Grant, the Duke's favorite pal and prolific screenwriter, who eventually became presiding head of the Los Angeles chapter of Alcoholics AnonYlnous. Now, a fella has to hit the bottle pretty good to work his way up to that eminent position. Anyway, the belligerent little boss of Republic began the meeting by, personally, reading the reader's report to us-which is now framed next to the Academy Award nomination for "Best Original Story." "Dear Mr. Yates," it began-with proper dignity, "this piece of tripe is certainly 110f rea»1l1l1ellded as the author is merely trying to capitalize on the great success of Tom Lea's nlagnificent book, The Brave Bulls, and knows nothing of the subject of which he writes." "Jesus Christ, Herb!"-I can still hear the Duke's roar-"Doesn't that asshole know Budd was a bullfighter!" Yates sat back in his chair and hit the copper cuspidor with a most accurate stream of tobacco. "Be that as it may, John," he said, compassionately, "we're not going to make the picture." The Duke sat up straighter. It was frightening to see him, up close, in action. "And why the hell not?" "Look, John," Herb continued, "if we had somebody like you or Forrest 'rucker-somebody big enough to fight them bulls." I took one hurried shot. "Mr. Yates, we don't 'fight' the bulls. The word tort:ro means we play them." "Be that as it Inay," Mr. Yates repeated, "the answer is still no." i'he Duke lit a cigarette. "All right, Herb, just pay me what you owe me and I'll make the picture." 'rhere was a deathly silence as Yates shot a quick glance at Bob Newman, who looked straight ahead. Then: "What do you mean-'owe you,' John?" "Well, if you read my contract, you'll see I've got ten percent of the gross profits of Wake of the Red Witch, which has already made three million dollars, so you owe Ine three hundred thousand there. And, I've also got ten percent of the bFfOSS profits of fWD Ji71l0, which has already brought in seven million dollars. So, hell, llcrh, just write Ine a check for a million and I'll finance Budd's show." Roben Ncwrnan silnply nodded affirmation this time, when Yates shot him a look of ahsolute panic. ""lell you what I'll do, John," the boss finally choked, "I'll give you two hundred thousand to Inake the picture. That ought to do it." "Sorry, I-Ierh, we're gonna need five." "I'll up it to three."

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"Nope. Just can't make it for less'n four." "John, three hundred and fifty is absolutely as high as 1'111 going to go." I nudged the Duke's foot. "You've got a deal," John Wayne said, and we all walked out of the office. The actual filnling of Bullfigbter encolnpassed nUlnerous problenls, due mostly to the unbelievable ego of one of Iny two leading Inen. I had cast C;i1bert Roland because he certainly looked the part of a successful 111l1tl1dm' de toros, and I had been badgered by Herb Tobias (also Gilbert's agent) ever since it was known we were actually going to Inake the filtn. ()f course, in the long run 1'111 happy that I did because Roland gave a splendid perfornlance. But his personality on the screen didn't keep hiln fro In being a Inajor pain in everyone's ass, 1l1ost especially mine, He was Spanish. His father had been a I11atador of SOIne note and, frolll the acrual signing of his contract to perfOrIll, he set about sort of "condescending" to play one of Illy leads. He becalne so obnoxious that Andy McLaglen kept hinl on call most of the time so he could strut around in his bullfight suit and sign autographs, which placed hinl at a fair distance fro III Ine and Illy calnera. We had one very il11portant scene where he and Robert Stack 1l1cet in the Hotel Regis' stealTI baths. Robert Oohnny Regan in the filtn) has a problelll with his budding rOlnance with lovely Joy Page, so his l11entor, Gilbert, consoles hiln and helps patch up their quarrel. Well, I'd seen Bob stripped and knew he was a blond Adonis, so when Gilbert arrived on the set looking like a gorilla, I suggested-as politely as I could-that he shave some of the hair off his chest, shoulders and back. Mr. Macho hit the ceiling. He stornled off to his dressing rOOlll, and we sat for more than two hours before he condescended to shave and return to filnl the scene. That steam bath sequence turned out to be one of the high points in the film. However, I was certainly telTIpted to let that hairy ape have his way and be snickered off the screen, but I'd worked too long to get Iny picture started, and I didn't have time for jokes. Finally, at the end of our studio schedule, Gilbert was about to die in the picture. I'd waited a long time for that. Well, the Inatador brought 1l1e three personally written pages of what he wanted to say throughout dying. If I had actually filmed it as he suggested, it would have Inade Greta Garbo's delllise in Ginnill,' look like a walk-on. So, Jack Draper, my calneralnan, and I fihncd Ciilbert's dialogue seven different times before we all agreed it was perfect. l~he only problelll for Gilbert was that we never rolled the calnera. 'rhen, being c0l11pletcly satisfied with the scene, we sent hinl honle and filmed the close-up of Robert Stack that I wanted in the first place. It worked beautifully. Bob never had a chance to apologize to his mentor before he died, and the horror and frustration of what he had done in the preceding bullfight sequence to cause Roland's goring now 1l1ade the finale much more powerful. Well, I ilnagine there are many other "(;ilbcr(

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Robnds" in the acting business, but ever since then I've been able to CirCUI11Vent thelll with a vengeance. It SeeJllS that word got around HollY\\Tood that we were Illaking olle hell of a filIn, and nothing succeeds like success, as we all know. vVell, when that word gets out don't take a bow-duck-because that's \vhen the legal beagles go to work. :\'ear the end of our fiirning, t\\'o irritating legal Inatters surfaced frolll the very howels of the earth. 'I'he bullfighter froll1 Brooklyn, Sidney Franklin, sued Republic Studios and 1l1e for plagiarizing his life story. I'd l11et Sidney once in Tijuana and lnade the dreadful rnistake of offering "Mi casa es su casa." \Vell, I had Ineant it as a I11atter of salutation. 'rhere wasn't one itenl in my house I would even lend Sidney. But, unfortunately, he took Ine up on it and stayed ruro weeks until I literally threw hiJll out. \ Vhat Illost people don't know is that Sidney wrote the glossary for Ilclllin~n.';ay's Death ill tbe Afternoon and that's the only reason Papa dedicated "A Shon 1·~~rill1ate of the :\lncncan, Sidney Franklin, as a Matador" at the end of his book. I assured the Duke that I could handle the siruation and simply sent good ai' Sid a "ery personal telegraln. "I)ear Sidney," it read, ~'will be delighted to appear against you in any court. It will give 1l1C the opportunity to explain to the \\Torld what you are really like. rIll arranging for all of your discarded little 'nephews' to accolnpany Ine. Budd Boetticher. " 1'111 not at all sure he got the wire, but-funny thing-we never heard another word fr0l11 hirn. l\:OW1 I wasn't as successful with a little hunl named Ray Nazarro. Ray's two daillls to Eline were that he directed the C:harles Starrett westerns and that he cowrote /JuJlJigbtt.-,· and tbt' Lal~)'. I had Illet Ray back in the C:olumbia days, and I told hiln part of Iny life's story in J\1cxico over drinks at Brittinghaln's. Ray indicated that he had an ilnportant pal at ~\1.C;.jV1. in the story departrnent who rnight enjoy reading a short synopsis. I dictated a few pages for hilTI to type. I il1lagined that he sulHnined it, but I never heard another word until his attorney sued me for half ()f Iny writer's s~\bry on the show and screen credit. Ray had registered that synopsis in 0111' (\\'0 nailles. It wasn't, at that tiIl1C, really worth fighting. So I settled out of court. ()f course, I didn't know, then, that 71'e were going to be nOl11inatcd for UBcst ()riginal Story." I sat three seats fronl Ray at the Acadclny Awards. Lucky for hirll, we lost. So help Ine C;od, if we had won, little Ray ;\;al.arro was going to end up in thc orchestra pit-on the fly-through the rniddle of the hig hase druln. Ilowever, despite the few lnajor problel11S, we cOlllplctcd Bullfighter in a hlazc of ~I()ry. 'rhe Inatador hrothers, L.uis and Felix Briones, who doubled Rohert Stack and Roland in the hullring sequences, really outdid thctllselves. 1

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Luis, who had been forced to dye his coal-black hair straw-yellow to Inatch Stack's, was absolutely sensational in the final con-id" in Pbza :vlcxico. I Ie Cllt rwo e~lrs and a tail, and the perfectionist Mexican fljiciolliulos yelled: "I ley, Briones, keep your Lana 'T'urner hairdo. You're better as a blond!" John vVayne threw a giant party following the final day of shooting in (2ueretaro. Now, the Duke did everything BI(~! I-Ie wanted to be certain that we would have a substantial anl0unt of the proper l\1exicln Inusic at the "'fiest~l," so he assigned three different underlings to go out-clnd not anile blick-unless they succeeded in corraling a costulned Inariachi baneL IntiInately knowledgeable of .V1exican wavs, he wanted to be sure that at least 011(' hand would show up. But, he wasn't reall". aware of the efficiency . of our Mexican crew. All three Inessengers callle back with a Inariachi band: one group costulned in red, the other two in blue and yellow. 'T'hey were colorful, all right, but not ~lS colorful as they \n:re loud. Professional jealousy ensued as each group figured that they, alone, had first dibs on the 111usic-so, they all played together, three different pieces, thirty-six different 111usicians playing altogether different runes. Sinc<.: we had be<.:n housed in a spectacular n10tel with all of our r00l11S overlooking a football field-size tile patio, it was bedlalll-with the 11lusic ricocheting off all four walls and the red tile. The Duke and C:hata \\layne sat on their verand~l ~lnd sort of supervised the party, now in full swing in the Iniddle of the patio. \Vayne was the first one who noticed that our leading lady, lovely and cultured Joy Page, was not in ~lttend~lncc. "\Vhere in the hell is Joy?" he roared. Now, Joy needed this rowdy hunch of drunks like she needed a goring, and she had the good sense (and good t~lStC) to have rClllalned in her roon1_ 'l'here was a light on in her suite, so Ruhen Padilb, Iny longtilne pal who played the p~lft of the Inanager of Plaza A1exico, silnply drew his gun and shot out the window of Joy's hathroo]n. Funny, I don't cver renlclnber her 111aking an cntrance to our party. She was just suddenly there! rrhcn I, personally, was the subject of the I)uke's second roar. ~'lley, Bood, get on over here. I want to congratulate you." 'rhat was really fright~ning. Every tiIHe the I)uke hugged Inc, the stubble fro111 his eight-hour heard took off one side of Iny face. And, now, I had acrually finished the picture and he W.1S rCilI6' happy, .1111.1 I was in a lot of trouble_ But, luckily, he didn't hug Inc. Instead, he handcd IlH.: a half-cll1pty quart bottle of tequila, and] could tell by his eyes who h~ld consllllled all of the other original half. "IIere," he said, "let's you and l11e drink ~l t()~lst to the success of your friggin' show." Now, I thought, for sure, th:lt I W~lS only ~()ing to take a slug or two frolll the bottle, then hand it back. But, hell no! lIe produced another full quart froIll beside his chair ~lnd held it out so we could toast cach other in the old Mexican custonl of "down the hatch" and keep sW~lll()wing until the other one quit. It's sort of like "chicken" but 1l10rC dang<.:rolls. So, I locked arIllS with hin1, and we began swallowing-looking for ~lny sign of weakness in the

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other's eyes. \,Vell, it went on, and on and OIl, until Iny bottle was eInpty. Duke took three rllore s,a,,',11Iows-ro he sure he had won-then walked over to the veranda railing and fe)) into rhe rose bushes. Drawing Inyself up with as Inuch dig-nity as Illy hurning stolnach could Inuster, I strolled back to the party, lay down on the red tile, crossed Illy arIllS over Illy chest and went happily to sleep. LLl~c's really dead," I heard the doctor say. "There's no heartbeat at all." But, nobody cried. 'rhat's what upset nle. I could feel rheIn all around Ine, looking down ;H rn~' hody, hut nobody cried. Now, that's one hell of a way to die. Then, I felt SOll1COne unbuttoning Iny shirt, and I guess I felt the stethoscope, because sOlnething was vcry cold. l-'his tiIlle the doctor's voice was even nlore definite. u'rhis Inan is dcad, ladies and gentien1en, so just what do you propose to do with the hody?" Now, I couldn't get anything else in gear, but Iny hrain was still working beautifully. It realized \\'e were in deep trouble, and it also flashed that John \Vayne sure wasn't going to CDIlle to the rescue this time. He was still in the rose bushes. \Vetl, as Illy ungrieving friends picked up nly body to place it out of the way of the revelers, I sUlnrnoned up one final burst of energy. I groaned. But, it wasn'r until we all got back to I-Iollywood that I found out Iny pal Ruben had filled the doctor's stethoscope with adobe. However, the party turned out better th,ln our renlrll to Republic Studios. At least Bob Stack and I were alive at the end of the party, but they killed us upon our return to Hollywood. I Silllply couldn't get anyone to see our picture. Mr. Yates was in Europe and Jjnllny (;rant h'ld sno\\'ed the Duke into becollling conlpletely disenchanted with Inc. And that was a daillned shame. You see, when Bob and I first read Grant's screenplay in J\1cxico C:ity, we were shocked. It was supposed to be adapted fronl lny original story, but what he had written certainly wasn't what either of us had planned to fihn. It was Jinlnly~" drunken version of what he thought bulls and hulltighters were like. Ilowevcr, I prolniscd Bob we'd fihn the story, not the script, .lncl we did. \Vell, when C;rant saw the rough cut of the picture he threw a fit. lie convinced \""~lyne that I had been cOlnpletely disrespectful of his ability as .1 renowned screenwriter, and the Duke hought that crap. Jimmy then nicknamed Inc uNars," for uNarcisslls," and the feud began. What the hell, the show was supposed to ht: based on rny personal experiences in Mexico, and I thought I had sOlnt: rights. But the I)uke didn't think so. He and his entourage of "nodders" began to refer to our show as "l"he Mexican Hassle," and that was that. Actually, nohody dared to screen it. In desperation, I telephoned John Ford. And, never ha\'in~ had the honor of Ineeting the great Inan, I wasn't at all sure he'd conle to the phone. U M r. Ford," I hegan, ~'lny nalne is Budd Boert ... " U\Vhcn in the hell are you going to invite Ine to see your show?" I didn't know ... " U

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"Well, you know daInn well how much I love Mexico, don't you?" "Yes, sir." "\,Vell, call your.cutter, and tell hinl to set up a screening. I'll get hack to you." That was ten o'clock A10nday 1l10rning, and it was going to be a long, long week. Friday afternoon-late-Mr. Ford was on the phone. "I ran your picnlrc," he said. "Is it any good?" I blurted out. "Nope," his gruff voice answered, "it's grellt! Drive on in here and see Ine." "I don't have a drive-on pass. U "Well, do you know where Herb Yates parks his Rolls?" He didn't wait for my answer. "Park your car there; take your keys; be prepared to give Ine exclusive written pennission to cut your picture, and I'll win you an Acadenl), Award." I couldn't believe it. JOHN FORD was going to help Ine! When I walked into his office, he stood up frolll behind his desk and extended his hand. "The only problenl with your show, Budd," he began, "is that it's got about forty minutes of chi-chi shit that's just gotta go." It all went-all of the "chi-chi" stuff. The great tore1'OS I had photographed to give Gilbert Roland even more dignity all ended up on the cutting-roonl floor. \\Then you can surround one of your leadirlg Inen with the best in any profession, and they pull out his chair, and light his cigarette, and agree with everything he says, you sort of get lured into believing altnost anything he does. But, even worse, a lot of Robert Stack joined those brave ll1atadors in the wastebasket. Bob had done everything I asked him to do and, actually, one hell of a lot lllore. I-Ie learned to be a torero, at risk of life and linlb, and he had a lot of bruises and scars to show for it. He actually fought sOlne good-sized anilnals for Ine when the picture was completed. I had scheduled that ajte1- the final d~lY'S shooting so he wouldn't get himself killed before we finished the picture. Well, all that sensation,l} fihn was gone. And the sentilnental scenes with the little Mexican children who are so beautiful-they were gone, too. Still, Bullfigbte1- nud tbe LIl~Y was an unexpected success. It gave Robert Stack the opportunity to becoille a lnajor star, which title he has continued to wear with great charnl and dignity throughout the years. Katy Jurado went right into Higb Noon, and good 01' {;ilberto went fn)Jl1 ten thousand a picrure to one hundred thousand with a starring role opposite Jane Russell at R.K.O. Funny thing about that fella. As Inuch as we disliked each other, I guess he was responsible for my being invited to sign a sevcn-yc~lr contr~lc.:t at Universal. \Vhile Iny agents and the srudio were negotiating the deal, Leonard C;oldstein called Ine to tell nle the story. Seenls Mr. C;oldstein, \Villialll C;octz, the head of Universal, and Edward Muhi, vice president, were having lunch, when the "matador" stopped by the table. "l-Iey, 'Alnigo,'" \ViUianl C;oetz asked, ~~what kind of a director is Boetticher?"

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"\Yell," the "rnatador" answered, "he's great with anirnals, but I directed all the people." 'rhat Inust have clinched the deal. Directing all those fighting bulls to run around in tight circles-inches past n1y gold-suited friends-then stop and stand still while I photographed close-ups-had to be the greatest exhibition of anilnal training in the history of the business. So I was offered the usual forty-week a yC~lr, seven-year optional contract at Universal Studios, but at a very substantial salary. I)irecting 1l10vies for Universal Studios Inust be chalked up as a learning experience. \ \'hen you work for an operation that evenrually tnanufactures a srudio tour that deglaIllorizes the entire industry, you have to learn sOlJlething. For instance: "biting the hand that feeds you!" The producers at Universal, with one shining exception-Aaron Rosenberg-beat their brains out trying to teach Ine that (notion pictures were not an art fonn, but a business venture. Still, I never believed theln. For one hundred and four weeks of the first two years, with only Sundays off, I directed nine Inajor Universal fill11s. Katy Jurado cOITIplained that I was urllaking pictures like 'tortillas,'" and she was correct. I worked with a lot of young actors who, eventually, becalne stars, but the only good thing I seen1 to rClllclnhcr was the opportunity to becolne friends with Robert Ryan, Julie Adalns, Sidney Poitier, Glenn Ford and Van Heflin. They were "pros," who believed as I did that every picture delnanded one hundred percent effort. Now, that select group doesn't include one of Illy all-tilne favorites, Anthony Quinn, because we were already close friends froln Blood and Sand. I made three of those nine filIns with 'I()ny--cvcry one a real pleasure. I had plans for Tony but, being under contract to U .I., those ",1istic plans had to wait. ~ow don't rnisunderstand me about Universal. I had a lot of fun there. But it wasn't constructive fun, or the kind of fun that was going to enhance Iny future. Still, there were SOllle rcally good tinles. Probably the one I will always ren1clnber with il hig srnilc happened during the fihning of Bro11co Busters starring John Lund, Joyce (Iolden and Scott Brady. I'd always heen infuriated by the audacity of Hollywood writers who sat in the safery and cOin fort of their offices and wrote ilnpossible siruations and shots for the directors to filrn. llorace McC:oy of 7bey Shoot Horses, DOIl't Tbey? falne W~lS a real pal of Inine, and we had discussed this irritation over nUITIerOUS drinks. \Vell, when Ilorace was assigned to write the screenplay for Bronco, he decided to playa joke on Inc. lie wrote-in the confines of his own elegant hOITIe: S(:ENE _~77 C~L()SE SI-l()rr BRAI-lMA BULL goring clown, then tossing hilll out of s("cnc. . \Vdl, thilt did it! I decidcd to utilize Illy "taurolnachian" background and prove th~lt directors could do anything! 'rhc Sl'cnc W.1S to C0l11C at the finale of the picture. It concerned the fatal

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goring of a rodeo clown, being played by Chill Wills. So we had a dUI1l111Y Illade, and costulned, to tenlporarily sit in for good 01' Chill. Now, I'd made a very serious study of the rodeo business before the picture began, and I was especially intrigued with the Inagnificence of the BrahI11a bulls. The Inore I watched theIn, the Illore I was convinced that SOlneone who really knew his business could Il1ake a few cape passes with the beasts if he could convince theIn that he, and he alone, was their enemy. I had noticed that they were so brave that they just couldn't decide exactly whorn to kill after they rid thelllselves of their riders. 'fhere was always too 111uch confusion with all the horses and clo\\rns and cowboy spectators. Cliff Stine was Illy cinelnatographer, a wonderful fellow who was rnuch braver than any canleranlan should ever be. I-Ie'd try anything-as long as it would help the picrure. \\!ell, Cliff thought I \\'as crazy as Illy plan was to havc thc carneraoperator and his assistant photograph froIn a waist-deep hole with no protection, sot hat the y co u Id can tin u e to" pan" wit h the b u 11- n 0 In a tt e r \\' h c r e h e went-with nothing to constrict the canlera's view. Now, that sounded so outlandishly idiotic and dangerous that C=tiff insisted upon being his own canleraoperator-in that hole. Funny thing, all three of his loyal assistants fought to he the one in the hole \\rith hinl. Now Iny plan was to irritate that Br~lhl11a hull enough to Blake hilll believe that I was his prinle enenlY, just I11e alone. So, all during the day's fihning, I would take the tilne-between shots-to visit hinl corraled in his privatc chutc. I didn't have to say very Inuch, nothing insulting or profane. I 111ercly told hilll a few things I'd always wanted to say to a couple of lJniversal producers-rlcd Richll10nd and Albert C:ohn. By the tilne we had scheduled our "C:LOSE UP BR,\1 L\1A Bl1LL" shot, the whole studio of "aficionados" and detractors arrived for the slaughter. Evcn Casey Tibbs, now alI110st a lifetinle pal, begged 111e to forget the whole darn thing. However, Inore ill1portant, several of the top studio executives begged Inc to (()IJtin lie. And 1'111 sure that's what spurred 111e on. Anyway, I yelled for '(()llllllY Shaw to "roll 'enl," and slapped the pink hullfighting cape against the outside white boards of the anirnal's chute. Funny how you rCIlleI11ber "flashes" of things. As the cape hit the pen, I had one lightning-quick view of th.lt cnclosurc. It W;lS in ahsolute splinters. All the paint was gored away, with only a slll.lttering rClllaining on the big Brahlna's horns. l'hen I started running hack""ards with Illy cap<: wid<:spread, and C:asey swung open the chute. It was just wonderful! I felt like Lee Marvin after he'd just shot his hrother in Cat Bal/oll. Everything I'd helieved in worked! rrhat furious anirnal didn't even consider that there was anyone else in his world. lie slashed at Illy Illoving cape in a dancer's rhythnl as I lured hilll toward the cililleril-hoic. 'I"hen I dropped one end of the cape directly in front of the propped-up dUIlHny, and C:hill '''ills' coun-

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his dreadful end. The bull lowered his right horn and caught that dUllllny right sll1ack in his belly, tossing it up and out of the scene. It was so perfect that I continued to "play" hiITI for awhile after the filnling was cOInpleted. Still, the best was yet to cOlne. \",ben he gre,\' tired of his battle with Ine, the bull Silllply jUlllped the arena's fence in search of something or SOlneone less frustrating, and headed down the Il10untain toward a section of Universal's faInous back lot. In a flash, he was followed by three world champion rodeo perfonncrs-C:asey, Dan Poore and Pete Crump-all mounted and gaily swinging their lariats. ~ow, hidden away on one of the studio's foreign streets a rather cffcJnillatc director was busy creating a Inovie of a type which was always referred to .1S Ul~its and Sand"-beautiful girls , ..'earing as little as possible. And, wouldn't you know, Iny bravc bull picked that harem street. "VeIl-he u'as a bull! So everyone went t1ring for any available cover, and the girls had a hard time outrunning the eunuchs. By the tillle I arrived in Illy car, the bull and Iny cowboy pals were long gone. 'fherc wasn't even 11luch dust remaining on that Arabian street. But the director \\'3S there. And he was furious~ LLC;oodness gracious!" he screalned. Hlf you insist on playing these silly gaines, you could at least let Ine know. I could have been squashed!" It was a IlH:1110rahle day! But, finally, Iny career at Universal Srudios caine to an end-quite explosively~ llcnnan '[ownsley was a character and, like my entire crew at that studio, tlercely loyal. I-Ie was Iny special effects genius. And, I had found out about Ilerrnan on Red 8111/ Express-Jeff Chandler's and Sidney Poi tier's version of (;cneral Patton's alrnost-disastrous breakthrough of the Gennan lines. The giant forest trees, which were to be shelled into falling, took off like rockets to the n100n. I explained to IIerrnan that for the next scene it would be preferable to have the trees shatter and fall over, not be launched, and to put less dynalnite under Inct

their hases. \Vell, in 1f'I11gs oItbe 1Io1J.'k with Van I-Ieflin and Julie Adarlls, we had a scene where \'an Wits to hlow up a bridge. I was very upset with the srudio because they hadn It allowed C;corgie Shennan the opportunity to di rect Clark (~able at .\1.(; ..\1., which was sUlpid. I Iell, George could have brought Gable to Universal for ~l filln. 1'111 sure he'd never even been on the lot. Anyway, I wanted to have a leave of absence to journey to Brazil with C~lenn Ford for a show, and it was quite obvious that (hey weren't going to allow that, so ... I Icy, hoss," Ilcrtllan said, "arc you going to Brazil?" IIIlell, no! I've got five l110re years on this friggin' contract, and I doubt if they will even lei 111C go hOlne for dinner." IL(;ood," Ilcnnan said, "with you gone, the studio would sure break up Our crew, an' that'd be a shalllc." Then, "So, how Inuch 'soup' do you want Ine to put Ii

under the hridge?"

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"As far as 1']11 concerned, Hennan, you can blow up the whole daInncd snldio," No\\', I al"ways wanted to be the one who pushed the explosive's plunger. If I Inade a Inistake, no one would get fired. I looked off to Iny left. 'There were the forty ]nounted "insurgentes" in place. And off to Illy right the ]llounted 4lfed_ erales" v,'ere chonlpin' ~1t the bit. Davey Sharp, doubling \lan 11etlin, \vas re~lrin' to go, as was Polly Burson, Julie's stunt-double. And so were all four call1era operators. "C)kay, T0I11Iny," I yelled to Illy truly great assistant director, "roll 'enl." "rhen, I heard fro]11 all four CaIneras, and I yelled "action." Now, when I yelled "action" to Illy anny of sruntInen, tbC), weren't kidding. ,,"Ve could have won \".'odd War II all bv ourselves they'd have let us. And here the\,F caIne! l'he· fOftv "1>3n. . if . dits" had to get across the swinging bridge before the seventy-five L'federal troops" arrived, and the two stunt-doubles were to race across sandwiched inbetween the n\'o nlounted groups. That was the 1110lnent for the explosion, and everything worked to perfection-until I pushed the plunger. It was then that we blew up the "whole dalnned studio!" It was an absolute Illiracle that no one was hurt. My director's chair was at least one hundred yards ;:l\vay frOll1 the explosion, but I watched the ensuing scene flat on Illy back, still scated in the ch.lir, which had hi own over like a capsized sailboat. ~rhe leading twenty riders of the Hfederal troops" hlew sideways off their Illounts as if thcy were feathers; then, being- Illy very professional hand of stunt]llen, they played "dead" where they b~'. But, I wasn't certain they were acting. ~rhe stunt had been scheduled for the last shot before lunch and, luckily for the actors and crews frolll the other shows who were already in the restaurant, it was late in May and the \Jenetian blinds were drawn tight so the shattered glass just ricocheted hack onto the concrete walk outside the big bay window. Ilowever, the I1lost Inelllorably exciting thing happened to the owners of the lovelv . estates :Ind hOl1leS surrounding ... Universal Studios. All their swilllining pools split wide open-drained as dryas the Sahara l)csen. 'rhose frightened civilians spent the first tcn Ininutes following the catastrophe in telephoning thc Stratcg-ic Air C:oll1ll1and to report a downed jet. \\fell, we finished Wil1gS oj'tbe f/tlwk right on schedule, and Aaron and I threw one hell of a cast and cn:w party. It was hHe in the Inorning after our fiesta that I decided what I h.](1 to do. I telephoned Jalllcs Pr~1tt, hcad of production. "Jinl," I said, "I'd like a 1l1ceting with you, Bill (~oetz and Eddie J\1uhl." "I-low ahout two o'clock this afternoon?" Jilll suggested. "I'll sure be there," I said, and hung up. Now, Jilll Pratt was Illy pal. We'd spcnt a lot of tilne over the last two years discussing the studio's prohlcnls and, well, J illl Pratt was sort of a fan of tnine. And Mr. Willialn (;oetz really liked 1l1C. I always got along with thc "heads" of studios. It was their friggin' producers who usually drove 1l1C cr.lZY. But, this titHe I w;lIHcd

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to be ahsolutely certain that the other head of Universal showed up at the meeting-becduse Eddie Muhl hated my guts. He didn't like the way I dressed-with Illy sleeves rolled up-but I always dressed to work. He didn't like the fact that I always seelned happy, because directors at Universal should always look frightened. And, 1110st of all, he said I drank on Saturday nights. Well, he was sure right about that. I drank 011~Y on Sarurday nights, so that I could telnporarily blot out the past six days at the studio and start getting in shape on Sunday to face Universal afresh the following week. I always felt it was a darn shame Edward wasn't conscious when I carried him out of Storey's Restaurant over my shoulder two straight working weeknights. I was cold sober then, and Eddie Muhl was heavy. I was surprised that he smiled at me when I walked into the meeting. All three were there and, surprisingly, they seelned in an absolutely delightful mood. Good. I had something to settle once and for all! Five more years in that producer's factory was a fate worse than death, and I was going to do something about it. I sat down at the long production office table and began my pitch. ~(;entlenlen, I don't want to work here any more." They all nodded, smilingly. "\Vhatever you say," Eddie Muhl agreed. Pratt and Bill Goetz nodded agreement. Now, this was too easy. I'd made nine really fine films at this damn srudio. I'd take another shot at it. I was sure they just didn't understand. "Bill, Jim, Edward-what I'm trying to get across to you is that I've had it here. I don't want to direct any more pictures for Universal. I don't want to drive or walk through your gate again. I want you to tear up my contract." What really surprised me was that there wasn't one moment's hesitation. rrhey all stood up and extended their hands. "We just want you to be happy, Budd," Bill Goetz said. "It's whatever you want," Jim Pratt put in. Eddie Muhl just grinned. I couldn't believe it. It was too good to be true. I was out of that office like a shot and across the street to Keye's Bar and Grill to call my agency, M.(~.A., and give them the great news. "J-Iow'd you find out so quickly," my agent inquired. "We didn't get the tclcgraln that Universal hadn't picked up your option until half an hour ago." Now, for those of you not well versed in the wording of motion picture contral~: "Hadn't picked up your option" was just a polite manner of stating the horrible, clllharrassing truth of the matter: I'd just been FIRED! \Vell, we were all off to Brazil: Glenn Ford, Arthur Kennedy, Cesar Romero and the hc,lutiful Spanish star, Sarita Montiel-all of that talent anxious to begin J'he II111ericllno, a wonderful script written by Guy Trosper. Our sensitive and caring producer was Robert Stilhnan, an absolute delight to work for, but-we never got to work. \\That the Brazilian producers did to Bob Stillman shouldn't have happened to the worst sonofabitch in Hollywood. Nothing that they had

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promised this trusting soul was ready for him. There weren't even roofs on the stages in which we were to shoot. Weeks went by. I was there sixteen of thenl, while we just sat and looked at each other. It got so bad that the top Brazilian producer, Bennie Dianissio, forced our cast and crew to stand in line, alphabetically, to receive our money for meals. That wasn't too tough for Ine with my name beginning with a "B," but Glenn-always a real fighter-held out for three days. Finally, some money arrived from Stillman's father, of the Chase National Bank. I knew some things that our producer wasn't aware of-like the sinlple fact that Arthur Kennedy had another picture commitment, which wouldn't allow hilTI to tarry another week in Sao Paulo. So, against Bob Stillman's wishes, I fihned action sequences instead of scenes: snakes, crocodiles, zebus, piranha-everything dangerous that you could only find in the jungles of Brazil. Glenn was wonderful. He worked closely with all these killers as long as the money held out. Then, we all got on our plane and returned to Hollywood. The Americano became the only tilnl I never finished. And that hurt. I always loved working with Glenn. He and Bill Holden were the two actors of that era who Inade every picrure they appeared in believable. And, I was extremely fond of Bob Stillman. He didn't understand Ine at that time, but I hope, now, he realizes that the "background footage" we filtned against his will just might have been the one thing that allowed him to finally finish The Ame17cano at R.K.O. Now, it was finally time to do what I'd been planning since the pictures with Tony Quinn at Universal. I sat down, locked myself in and wrote a screenplay especially for my pal. I wasn't giving Tony a break. I was doing s0l11ething exciting for the film audiences of the world. I intended to help Tony nlake himself a star. Sure, he'd already won two Acadelny Awards, but both of those were for Best Supporting Actor: as Brando's brother in Viva Zapata, and as (~auguin in Lu.st for Life starring Kirk Douglas as Van Gogh. It was to be Illy second bullfight picture for two reasons: first, I was certainly an authority on the subject: second, Tony would fit the part to perfection and look sensational in the gold traje de [uces. I entitled the picture The Numbe1" One, but I was to discover I was a little ahead of the times. My producer, Edward Alperson, thought it sounded like someone had to go the toilet, and he was busy discussing a l110re suitable, less offensive title when I walked into Iny office at Selznick Srudios to discover him and Clarence Eurist, my production Inanager, sitting behind Illy desk. AI.) a matter of fact, Clarence had both his polished shoes on top of it. But, seated in my oversize leather chair next to this double personal affront was one of the best-looking characters I'd ever seen. I was certain that he was an actor, and Illy mind immediately set about trying to figure what great part was still open in our picture casting. "Budd," Eddie began-without getting up-"this is Mr. Lucien Ballard." l-Ic

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tlll:n nodded to L.ucien. "1\1r. Ballard-l\1r. Boetticher." I \\/;;1S honestly startled. Lucien stood and extended his hand. ".\lr. Ballard," I said, "what a pleasure! I think I've seen every picture you've photographed, but I thought you'd have to be ninety years old with all those hrilliant credits. ,Lucien said, "'fhank you," and sat back down. "\\'cll," Iny producer bearned, ~'I'nl glad you t\\'O get along, Budd, because Lucien is your calner'1I113n. \Ve just signed the contract." And he held it up for Ine to scc~ 1'111 not sure how long I counted to rnyself, out of respect for ",,'lr. Ballard, hut when I exploded, the shit hit <111 the fans. '"Eddie, you schtl1uck! Don't you know enough about the picture business to understand that if the director and calneran1an aren't close friends with total respect for each other, it's going to cost you Il1oney? And ... " ,,\\re thought you'd understand," Clarence cut in-weakly. ~'Undcrstand! Listen, Buster-you understand! If this gentlelllan and I don't happen to get along, it's--as I just said-going to cost Edward, here, a fortune, and you arc going to end up Th'U), behind schedule!" That was just for openers. I)uring the next five full Illinutes, I read the riot act. I was the director; it W£lS 711)' script and I was the associate producer. IVo one, no one else was to be hired unless I W~lS consuit(.!d. Acrually, all this would have been a good lesson for young directors. If the "boys" rcally want to "test" you-let thenl do it /Jljore the picture starts. ~rhcn explode all over the place. Let thenl kno\v that all the "terrible things they've heard about you are true. You are the boss. Then Inaybe they'll go away until the picture is cOIllpleted. At any rate, the tirade continued until I was certain I had Illade all Iny brutal points. Then, I rurned to Mr. Ballard. "1'111 sorry you had to hear all of this, but they had it COIning. Now, I an1 ~lhsolutclr delighted that I will have an opporrunity to finally work with a gentlel11an of your stature, hut I 111USt tell you that, when we filtn in the bullrings, I have vcry dctinire ide.1S as to where I would like to put Iny c3Ineras." l'-'lr. Ballard drew hinlself up to his full, absolutely gorgeous height. "Mr. Boctticher," he said, softly, "as far as I'nl concerned, you can take your C3Ineras and stick thcln up your ass." I ne~lrly fell on the floor, and burst out laughing. Good God, there actually was SOlllCOlle else in that gutless town who had SOIlle balls! U ,;\1 r. Ballard," I said, "would ~'ou care to step across the street and join tne in ;1 beer?" lie looked rnc up and down for a long, long beat, then: "Yes, I think I would," he said. And he smiled for the very first tilne and got hetter looking than ever. I don't rel11clnber either one of us saying good-bye to our two friends, hut Lucien Ballard and I have been together on Iny fillns U

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ever sInce. I didn't know it at the tilne, but Lucien was Maureen ()'Hara's personal request. Now, after you've had the pleasure of working with Maureen, you're inclined to give her anything she wants. lvliss (Yl-lara is the 1110st professional actress I have ever known. She's ready on the set \vay before her 1110rning call, knows everybody's dialogue and can set your call1cra for you if you need help. Every InOlnent with her as our leading lady was a distinct pleasure. A;lotion picture location-filIning can be one of three things: a tedious daily drag, an absolute disaster, or a very nle1110rable lot of fun. 'rhe four-week shooting schedule for The NII'Jnber Olle was the l110st fun I've ever had. ()f course that was a c0111pletely selfish viewpoint, because I had arranged the exterior filining to be done at C:arlos Arruza's bullbreeding ranch, a three-thousand-acre paradise an hour-and-a-half northeast of Mexico C:ity. You see, little C:arlos Arruza, Iny Ilovilll'ro pal fro1n Iny early days in 1\1exico, had becolne the world's greatest bullfighter. l-le had gotten rid of the gold front tooth on the \vay, and he was now athletically handsolnc and had the bullfight world by the tail. I had followed his brilliant career for the p~lst fifteen years, had seen hinl forear nUI11erOUS tilnes in l\1exico City and ahnost every tilHe he fought in 'rijuana. \rVe had becolne even closer friends, probably as close as friends can get while living countries apart. C:arlos had retired frO]ll bullfIghting in 1953. Ilis great cOlnpctitor, iVlanuei Rodriguez ("j\lanoletc It), had been killed by :1 bull in 1947 and there were no longer tLl}O of thenl at the top. ()f course, there had been a difference of opinion about that. "1\1ano1ete," when questioned as to who was the greatest Illatador in the world, had said: "First, I}le, 'lVlanolete,' then l1obo{~)', tbell C:arlos Arruza." But the aficiollfldos had been equally divided hecaust: they were both so great. C:arlos had bought "Pasteje" right after his retireSllent. I Ie knew that he could never stay c0I11pletely away frolll the bulls, so now he raised theIn, he said, to frighten the other tm-erOJ. And, he deeply loved his gllllfldt'rill. '['he white-willled-in red-tile-roofed hacienda had housed both Elniliano Zapata's ilnd Pancho \lilla's troops during different stages of the Mexican Revolution. Pasteje had been est~lh­ lished as one of Mexico's tlncst and lllost honorahle bull-breeding ranches long before C:arlos had even begun to think about the bulls. Still, Arruza was spending a fortune trying to ilnprove it.

My favorite thing about filIning at the ranch wasn't just the wonderful atIllosphcre. At Pasteje I could actually work at keeping in shape. "Chucho n Solorzano sent 111e a beautiful polo Inare nallled l~\1J/('l1didli. I had spent 1l1ost of Iny early life, before fonnal prep school and college athletics, on Iny father's spectacular horses. People told Inc I could ride before I could walk. I doubted that, but it was a cOInplitnent. Now, 1110untcd on 1~:\pll'lIdid'l I could ride out to

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the distant Pasteje locations (\\'0 hours before the crew arrived. Then, follo\ving the day's tlltning, rny new "lady friend" and I would canter hOlne. The ranch was located 9,600 feet abo\'e sea level, and those morning and evening jaunts were unhelie\'ably beautiful. Howe\,er, after the fourth day's shooting, I inherited a cOlnpanion. C:arlos wanted to kno,v where I was going when the sound of 1l1Y boots on the tile patio woke hinl up at six o'clock every Illorning. I told hilll that I was on the wav to ride out to the location site. "In what?" he asked. "I never hear a car." I told hirn: "()n a horse," and he was shocked. He felt horses were for pcones, not gentlelnen who could still be asleep. But, being a good host, he decided to join I11C. (~huch() sent another lovely ITIare and off the two of us went. It was awful! All of the great Inatador's grace disappeared on horsehack. He bounced up and down, this way and that, but I didn't have the heart to tell hilll he'd never be a horseIllan. :\5 C:arlos, hilllself, adlnitted: "I have a lot of 'proud'!" Seeing the bulls again-up c1ose-nlade Ille realize that there was tnuch nlore to bullfighting than just ~'balls" that had gotten nle hooked. They are such noble beasts-so passively Inajestic when they are together in the fields, and so frighteningly destructive when they are singled out or loosened into the plazas of the world. Non-aficionados have asked Ine repeatedly: "\\'hat do you do to tnake a fighting hull rnad?" And I have ahvays answered: "You open the gate!" C:ertainly, when you stand before thein, they scare the hell out of you. But, when you have learned to conquer that fear, your future problenls and everyday traumas becolne infinitesilnal. I bTUCSS, l110rc than anything else, surviving the bulls gives you confidence. :\'ot just the confidence that you can "play" the bulls but, unforrunately, an ovcr-abunlbnce of confidence in thinking that evc1ytbil1g you do is ahsolutely sensational. For instance, if you have had the 111isfortune of being subjected to various IloIIY\\'ood actors, or producers, or even (heaven forbid) directors, whose egos far surpass their talent, you ought to get a load of huH fighters. Their egos surpass even the strength of the bulls. 'falk about pril1l3 donnas! You can always tell how really good;l forn'o is by the attractiveness of his groupies. 'rhe girls get prettier and uglier up and down the ladder of success. And, of course, C:arlos' covey of followers was ahsolutely gorgeous-hecause he was HE] Nutnero Uno." Now, he was the best in the world at what he did, and he sure as hell knew it. I'll never forget one of C:arlos' Illonurllental triulnphs in Plaza Mexico during our filrning. ()ur whole cOlnpany had attended the (on"id" and Arruza was truly sensational! 'rhe following tllorning, 'I()ny Quinn and I were sitting at the foot of :\rrul.&l'S hed having coffee, when \!argas, Carlos' sword handler, arrived with the IHorning papers. 'rhe headlines hlared the truth: "Arruza fantastic!" "Arruza C:uts Ears and 'Elils,'1 HC:,ulos Arruza C;ives a Lesson In the Art of Bullfighting!" And, as Vargas read the finer print, l\1atador Arruza agreed.

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"Carlos Arruza is, without a doubt, The NUlnber ()ne." V<:lrgas droned on and on: "With the cape he was a genius," "With the 11ut/etfl he 11Iade us ~llrnost forget Juan Behnonte and 'Joselito.'" "With the first pair of bll11derillfls, he showed that he was equal to Rodolfo Gaona's Par de Plnup/ol1tl-the tnost stupendous placeInent of the sticks in the history of bullfighting." "El NUlnero Uno" certainly agreed with that one. "Then," Vargas continued, "the second pair of btll1dl'rilllls was very good." "Very good.''' Carlos bolted up in bed. "l'hat 111an said the second pair was just 'very good't' Vargas nodded, sheepishly. "Get that I11iserable sonofabitch on the phone," Iny tnatador roared. And Tony and I choked over our coffee. Upon our return to Selznick Studios for the picture's editing, Eddie Alperson strolled into Iny office. "I sure wish we could steal your pal Barna by Conrad's title for our 111ovie," he said, dropping a book onto Iny desk. It was A1atad01; Barney's bestseller. I illllnediately thought of the Inost Ciod-awful title I could caIne up with in a hurry, so as to change the subject. I offered: "\/\/11), don't we call it The lWagnificent Matador?" "Christ, that's great.''' Edward beatlled, and pranced happily off to notify "publicity. " And I was never playfully facetious again. However, Tony Quinn was 1nng1lijiccut.' l'he tlhn didn't get quite the enthusiastic reviews that Bu/lfigbtC1- did, but every producer in every i]nportant studio surely knew, now, that Anthony Quinn could carry a nl~lj()r production. And that's all, really, I had set out to do. l'he day after the filtn's Hollywood preIniere, I received a "speci~ll delivery" gift of an 1804 Guadalupe Inedallion on a gold chain. l'he Vi1gin ~r (;//"d"/"!J c is the protector of all Mexican torero.", and around the ]l1edallion's edge is engraved: ~'Budd, 1l1ay she watch over you always-'J()ny." And she (llways has. A very interesting thing h~lppened upon Iny return fro]n Mexico. I received a telephone call frotH the head of Universal publicity. I-1e suggested that EIlIily and I drive down I-Iollywood Boulevard the COIning week and take II look at the 1l1ajor attractions playing there. It was supposed to he .1 surprise, hut het()re EIl1 and I Inade the drive we received I1ll1nerOUS other calls frotH friends stating what had occurred. For the first tilne in l---Iollywood history, a director had three first-run feature Inotion pictures playing on the boulevard: Alllu/i-U'lII fbt' .,1/11'1110 with (;lcnn Ford and Julie Adallls; Wil1gS of tbe J-/lrwk with Van I-Ieflin, Julie AtblllS, C;eorge Dolenz and Abbe Lane, and Ellst of SU'lJlllf1"1I with Jeff (:handlcr, 'lc)ny ()uinn, Marilyn Maxwell and Susan Ball. \Vdl, Inayhe I had heen ulnaking pictures like tortillas" as Katy Jurado had protested, but these 44 tort ilbs" wcren't had. And I had

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enjoyed working with the actors ~lnd actresses who were involved. Still EnlIl1ie and I didn't stop to buy a ticket at any of the three theaters. I'd seen the shows and I'd blld it with U ni\'ersal! But across the street fro]n C;raunlan's, where Wing., of rbt' I/,"rk was playing, was a Inarquee that interested 111e. 'The theater advertised .\larion Brando in 'I'll£' }'Oung Lions. \Vell, I've always been a Branda fan. I'd been considered to direct the picture, but Eddie l)nlytryk beat Ine out. Unfortunately, we were a hit late to see the opening of the filtn, so we had to sit through the hlack-and-white second feature. SOlnehow, fro]n the very 1110111ent the titles appeared on the screen, it looked alnazingly falniliar. It was titled The Swo~'d of !)',-111I1gllfll1. 'rhen, to prove Illy shock, there was 111y naIne in big bold letters as the fllnl's director! Jesus C:hrist! I had finally progressed to working with stars and In'ljor studio budgets, and now Iny 1110st recent release was a three-and-a-half-day wonder I'd done as a favor for tny pal. I didn't end up seeing a hell of a lot of ~\tlarlon Brando because I was so daInn angry, but EInily told Ine it was a wonderful shov.'. I'[n sure I nodded "sornething" and let it go at that. I just wanted to get to the telephone first thing in the 111orning. ~'(;ood 111orning, I-Ial," I began, ··will you have the srudio Inake Ine out a check for thirty-four-thousand tlve-hundred dollars and charge it off to your last release." Poor llal, he was genuinely shocked, \Vhen I used the word "poor" I was only referring to his lack of talent. lie got right to the point. ·~'Thirty-four-thousand five-hundred dollars for what?" "'For directing your fucking picture. I think you retitled it The Sword of !)'.-Irttlgllllll. ~\ly present salary for a picture is thirty-five thousand. I've been advanced five hundred, and now I'd like the rest of Iny ]TIoney," U,\ly boy," he said, "a deal's a deal." u' (,hat's your .lnswer?" "Yep. You kno\\-' that." I hung up llnd reported the entire situation to the Screen Directors Guild. I, of COli rse, neve r got the rest of Iny Inoney, bu t the Guild nlade a lot of new-protective-rules. '!wo weeks later Iial called Inc. lIe said he'd felt I was very upset, and he and l)olly wanted to invite Enullie and 111e for a weekend cruise on their newly purchased Yiu..'hL \,Vc declined. \Vc had tnade plans to scr~lInble sOlne eggs. *•********

Llu.:ien B.lllard and I rejoined forces on the rIwentieth Century-Fox picture, .-1 Ki"t~r I)' Loost:. \,Vc had heard fronl the Hollywood grapevine that we were going to have a tough tinlc working together again. Seenls the powers that be decided we had gotten too close anu-as a tealn-would be inlpossible to handle. \\That we

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both couldn't figure out was why they thought we had to be a teanl to be uilnpossible." That hurt our feelings. We felt that, individually, we were illlpossihle enough. Tbe Killer Is Loose was a good fihn with Joseph Cotten, Rhonda Flclning and Wendell Corey, who were wonderful to work with. But I don't think they appreciated what Lucien and I did. \Ve nlade that picture in fifteen days on a twenty-day schedule to stick up the "grapevine's" roots. U/e'd tell thC1}J \\'hen we were going to be difficult. On the final day of Killer I got a call froln the Duke. lIe wanted to see 11lC on John Ford's set just two stages down froln Inc. Six years had gone by since John Ford alnlost destroyed Bullfighter ol1d tbe Ltldy, and I wasn't particularly enthusiastic about visiting the great director's set to see anybody. I hadn't seen the l)ukc either for a long, long tilne, but lowed a lot of anything I hau bcconlc to that man, so off to Stage 5 I went. "Here," the Duke said, "read this and tell 111e \vhat you think." I took the script and glanced at the title. It was Seven J\tll'l1 F'ro",! Nmr by sOlnc fella nanled Burt Kennedy, so I carried it off to SkjlTI through it over lunch. rrh~lt is, I carried it as far as the stage door, when I heard John Ford's boollling voice. "Hey, Budd," he yelled, "hold up!" I held up in a hurry. I was dalnn sure hc'd heard how much I hated losing those scenes froIll Bullfighter and now he was descending upon Ine in exceptionally long strides. I tried to force Inysclf to consider that he didn't look any tougher than I-Iarry C:ohn, but I also figured that I was younger and more naive then, so the "I-Iarry (~ohn" I11el11ory didn't help l11uch. "Were you just gonna walk off the set without even passing the titne of day with Ine?" John Ford asked. "Well, sir, I was sure you were busy." Mr. Ford srudied 1l1e for a long beat. "You don't like 1l1C, do you?" I was shocked. "Well, God dalnn it, I don't blanle you, but the truth is-l like .1'011 and want to set you straight about sOlnething. I didn't set out to chop up that tine picture of yours. I wanted to be danln sure that they put it out. 'l'hose assho]cs weren't going to release it at all, you know." "Yes, sir." Ford grilnaccd. "Yes, sir, shit! I'nl not asking you to ~lg-rcc with Inc. Just understand why I did it. I knew dalnn well if we got it down to ninety InillLJtcS, they'd have to release it! They needed picrures, if only for fillers. ()kay?" "()kay," I said. And that \vas the beginning of il wonderful friendship. Jack Ford was simply great with 111e. And I learned to love and understand the In~ln who was a true artist, who knew what he wanted, and who the hell he w,lIlted to be with. He didn't have time for crap. An hour later I was back on his set with Seven ""1('11 Fr01J/ ]Vou' in Illy hand.

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. l'he Duke was sitting in a circle of friends. "' I)uke, this is a sensational script," I began. "\\'c1ll1, rou couldn'da read it in an hour!" "1 read thirty-fi\'e pages. That's all I had to read to know that it's great. I'd like to Ineer this Kennedv fello\v." 'rhe Duke nodded to a curly-haired young IHan sitting next to hiIll. "So, shake hands with hiI11," he said. Kennedy stood up. I grinned and we shook hands as I said, "1'111 happy to Ineet you. You're one hell of a talent!" H\VC 1l1et a long til11e ago," Burt Kennedy said. "I was the 'rabble-rouser' in ,lIlli/ ji'OlJ1 '1l,.,'tI.\" with Robert Ryan and Rock 11.udson." Then he grinned. "You told Ine [ was pn:tty good." "'You were," I faked renlelllhering, "but you're an even better writer." And so began a long, happy and fruitful partnership. It was the nicest thing John "'ayne ever did for 1l1C. In the 19605, Burt would begin directing his own filnlS-al110ng theln Return oftbt' ,~'t'7}f11, 'The War l¥Ilf.{Ol1 and Support Yozn- Locnl Sheriff. I signed the directorial contract with Batjac, John \\fayne's Ill0tion picrure cOlnpany, but Sez't'l1 JJen Proll1 l"o71.' wasn't scheduled to begin filming until iVlan:h. Burt and I discussed various aspects of the script and what we would like to achieve with the picture. l~hen, knowing that I was finally dealing with a very t~llentcd writer, I left Illy new partner alone to do the rest of his creating on his own. 'rhis gave Inc tiIlle to think seriously about a project I'd been drealning of for scver~ll years. I really thought Bllllfighter would further Illy career in Iiollywood by leaps and hounds. But it didn't. Jack Ford and the Duke took care of that. And 'J1)t .lltlgllijit'l'l1t .VIlltllt/or was a good filrn about a subject of which I was well verscd, but Inost critics wrote that it didn't COl1lpare to Bullfigbte1~ even in the condition Iny hoped-for "I11asterpiece" was when it was finally released. Now don't decide that Illy frustrated arnbition to Inake better films was based on puhlicit}" wealth and heing recognized as a talent. It's Inost inlportant in Hollywood to Illake hetter tilnls so that, gradually, you are blessed with better actors, better budgets and longer shooting schedules. I just wanted a shot at 1l10re expensive shows. "I'hen, if I failed, it would he Illy fault alone, Well, no Illatter how hard I tried, I just W~lsn 't getting that shot. So, again, I was forced to realize that I had to create sOlnethin!{ entirely different, very personal. No one, not even the Spanish, PortubTlJcsc or the Mexicans, had ever produced the definitive filrn on the hulls. But I, cven as an AInerican, felt that I could. \ "hen before, and when in the future, would a 1l1otion picture director of category, with an established career as a to 1"('1'0, set abollt directing a close friend who is the 1l111stcr of the art of bullfighting? l'hat was tny idea. There would be no "douJ

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bling" of the star. I intended to use the best torero in the world to play hin1self. There would be no 1110re long shots of the 1l1~ltador doing the acnlal bullfighting, then a phony close-up of the actor-star. I wanted to Inake ~l re.11 bullfight filI11 with a real tonTO fighting rhe bull. And I knew froll1 experience th;lt whoever th.lt torero turned out to be, he'd have to be .1 close pcrson~ll friend of Inine. Bullfighting pictures are extrelnely tough clnd exceedingly dangerous to Inake. And, believe Inc, this tore7"O friend of Inine would have to he p.1ssion.ncly excited about doing the filIn. \Vell, I had two such close friends .It the very top-C:ar!os .t\rruza in l\1exico and Luis "V1igucl "Dolninguin" in Spain. I first Iner Luis .;\1igucl "Dolninguin" in 1()54 when he had run away froll1 one of our industry's 1l10st desirable stars. It was headlines in all the g-ossip colun1l1s. The t\\'o of thenl had been vacationing in Big Bear and Luis 1vtig-ud had just up and left. I questioned hinl as to how he could run IIV.'/~V froll1 her, when ever~' redblooded l1ule who'd ever been to the 1110vies would run as fast as his h:gs could carry hin1 t07.L'{{rd her! "'\Vell," the great Inatador Illused, "it's a wonderful gift to be .lble to cut e.lrs and tails in the bullrings ... hut," he lit .1 cigarette, "to be expected to cut ears and tails 111orning, noon ~lnd night in the bedroOll1 is too 111uch-even for Inc." And he wasn't being funny. It was n1erely a srateillent of fact. C:arlos Arruza hated Luis Miguel's guts. lIe hbilled hinl for the death of "Manolete," claillling veheInently that "DoI11inguin" had forced "tvtlilolete" back into the bullring. This, of course, was absurd. Arruz::l, of ~lll torero.'", should have ' ,,, Wc1S aI)out to t.1 k'c over u~1 un derstoo d "M i <1110 1ere 's " ego. " D olll1nguln i\ ;1110 Iete 's " place at the very top of Spanish ton'o and the IlHlstcr \\'llsn't ahout to stcp aside and I1lake it easier for hin1- A bull, Iolol s lero ," killcd "Manoletc"-nohody else. Now Luis Miguel's attitude toward Arruza was cOlllpletcly different. Ill' was purposefully aloof. \-\Thile the very l11cntion of Luis iVliguei would send :\rrllZ~l into a frenzy, anything pertaining to Arruza as a IllcHador, or a IHan, would provoke .1 slight frown froln the Spaniard as he tried to "relnclnher." 'I'hen he would say quietly: "Oh, yes, you n1ust be referring to the J\r1exicHl, till·/o.,' Arnll'.a." It \\'.lS an absolute delight for nlC to bait theln both. ()ne night Elnily and I were driving over Benedict C:ilnyon returning fron1 ;l fashionable party given in honor of our distinguished guest, who was sitting in tht: back seat. Suddenly he le~lncd for-wilrd hetween us to converse ;111d I jlllllped :It the chance. "Luis Miguel," I hegan, "in your opinion. who ~lre the tell greatest Ill;nadors in the history of hullfighting?" 'rhere wasn't a split-second hesitation. H\Vell, second, 'Josclito,1U he s;lid. l~hcrc was no need to lllention who he considered W;lS hEI Nlllllcro Uno."

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U'rhen," he continued, "third, Juan Belrnonte, then DOlningo Ortega ... ," and he In~ltter-of-factly nalned the remaining six. I looked across at Elnily and winked: "You just named ten Spaniards. \Veren't there any great l\1exicans?" H()f course," he said, "there were tw'o damn good ones." I cut in. "Rodolfo (;aona and Arruza?" ~~C;oodness, no," he exclainled, "Gaona and 'Annillita~' Arruza is a 'futbol' pl~lrcr!n

Funny thing though. For once, exactly two months later, Charlie A. rruza topped hinl. Saine script, saine setting, saine dialogue: "In your opinion, Charlie," I began, "who are the ten best toreros ,vho ever lived?" h\\'ell, first Ine and 'lvlanolete'; third, 'Joselito'; fourth, Juan Belmonte, then (;aona, ':\nnillita,' 'Silverio,' Garza, Ortega and Lalanda. He at least kept things e"en: five Spaniards and five Mexicans. Carlos was very nationalistic, because both his parents v:ere Spanish and he was born in Mexico. I-Ie loved to cornplain: "In Spain I am a C;od-daInned Nlexican and in Mexico I aln a God-damned Spaniard!" "Didn't you forget someone?" I couldn't wait to ask that. "\Vho?" "Luis Miguel?" uLuis Miguel~" he exploded. "PUla mad1-e.' I thought you asked Ine to name fLOll-not ten thousand!" \Vell, it was a dilenl1na. On one hand was my crazy, delightful pal C:arlos. And then, on the other, Luis Miguel "Dominguin"-who sure as hell was going to he "'rhc Nunlher ()ne" whenever Arruza stepped down or even "slowed down" a linle. And they couldn't have been Inore different. Carlos' "class" was in the bullring-nowhere else. I-Ie was a killer of WOInen, as well as a killer of hulls. ()f course the ladies he absolutely "Inurdered" wanted to be his victilTIS. They threw thcll1sclvcs headlong into his bed because he was ARRUZA. But, Luis Miguel was in a class hy hilnself. During evenings out, he wore a scarlet-lined Spanish cape over his fOrInal trfljt' C0110, and his entrance into the fancy clubs of Europe would have rnade C:. B. l)cL\1ille proud. \Vhen he played the tables at Monaco, he flanked hill'lsclf with a gorgeous redhead on one side and an equally startlinglooking blonde on the other. Everything he did was showmanship, but it all catne narur~ll to hilll. So, why not "Dolninguin?" I Inllst have said that, out loud, to Inyself a thousand times. And then I got an unexpected call from Carlos. It was the first of November, 1956. "l-Iey, Bood, you got tickets for the 'C;uadalupfll1a?'" Then hefore I could answer: "l)on' get theln. I get rnro for you. Eets a geeft!" :\ gift fr0l11 C:arlos. I nearly dropped the phone. I flashed back to the only other "geeft" he had suffered through seven years before. I had been in the Inen's

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room at the Focolare when, due to my absence, he had been obliged to pick up the dinner check. So, I hadn't taken his graciousness too seriously. "You're paying for the tickets?" "Sure! \\Thy not! 1'111 becolning a damned spendthrift!" "Spendthrift, and that'll be the day!" "Well, are you COIning?" he shouted like the wonderful little boy he could be when he wanted. So, of course, I said: "Yes, we'll be delighted." The Guodalupnl1n was an eight-day festival that had been organized on the order of the S011 Ysidro in Madrid, the Pel·io de Sevilla and the S011 ["--cr,,"il1 of Palnplona-eight straight days of bullfights and parties. It was to be Mexico City'S first. But quite suddenly 1l10re grandlnothers and grandfathers died, 1l10re children had accidents; more Inothers becaIne stricken with cvery fonn of fo1tal diseasc known to man. And then all the grandll10thers and grandfathers, and children, and mothers, and their husbands went to the bullfights for eight straight days and nobody worked. It cOlnpletely upset the country's econolny and it was the last of the GUlldaluplluas. But, that was Mexico and it was fun while it lasted. The Ininute we stepped off the plane I knew C:arlos had a bi.(!'o reason for inviting J11e. He was grinning frotn car to ear and jUlllping around like a t\\'o-yearold colt. And that's what he was excited about. He was going to he il n'.iol1t'{ltlor-~l bullfighter on horseback. He had figured out a W~ly to outsl11~lrt Mari ~lnd he wanted me to be the first to know. \\Then he had retired in 1953, he had prolnised her that he would never ever again fight in the gold suit, the tn~jt' til' IlIc('s of the fOrInal Illatador. And he was certainly going to keep thilt prolnise. Bullfighters on horseback don't dress in gold suits. 'rhey wear the traditional t1'l~i{' corto of the Spanish horselnan or the sixteenth-century casocfI of the PorNhTUcse. "It'll work!" he giggled. "Mari's alre~Hly agreed!" "C:harlie," I said, trying hard not to grin, "the hulls are going to he just ;lS big. \\That's that got to do with your costulne?" "It's Iny prolnise," he shouted. "T'his way I can still keep Iny pnHnise. I)on' you

see!"

I "saw" all right. And I was happy for hinl and-quite selfishly-for Illyself. Right there in the Mexico C:ity Airport I said goodbye to the prospect of Illy tihn with Luis Miguel "Doillinguin." 'T'hat would have hecn a heautiful picture, hut now with the horses I could create sOlnething truly different, SOlllething entirely new with the pageantry of Illcdieval tilncs, with the colors of Picasso, ilnd with the horses-Porruguese Lusitanos-the 1l1ost excitingly beautiful horses in the world. Bullfighting on horsehack, called njol1eo, with all its traditions and techniques, is essentially a Portub'1.lese art that dates hack to the days when wild hulls were hunted with due cerenl0ny on such special occ:asions as a royal 1l1;ln·ja!-{c or

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rdigiolls festival. 'rhe terIn originated frolll the Spanish word rejon (spear), and spcartnen 1110unted on hot-blooded horses have been practicing this highly dangerous sport since Julius Caesar fought froln the back of an Iberian Peninsular stallion in the ColosseuIl1. l~hen, when the role of the trained horse in war diIninished, the Spanish and Portuguese knights found it only natural to turn to the wild Iberian hull to properly exercise their 11l0unts to keep theln in shape for battle conditions if the need presented itself. The ancestors of the Inultin1illionaire Inaradors of today were serfs frol11 the kitchens and stables, who went out into the tlelds to lure the bulls away frOll1 their fallen Inasters when they were knocked froln their horses. Finally, in 1763 when the art of l'ejoneo became popular, the .\1arquis dc l\larialva, a brilliant horselnan, introduced new n1ethods of attack and defense and laid do\vn the rules and principles that hold good to this day. 'rhe eight-day Gutldalupana was a wonderful vacation. I had really nlissed the IIJl/bit'nle of the bullring. Our two front-row seats were sandwiched in between Fred I iochberg and Illy long-tilne pal Barnaby Conrad. Fred was the perennial power behind Los ...:lficiol1l1dos de Los Angeles, the oldest and nlost powerful bullfight duh in the United States and, of course, every English-speaking bullfight fan has read all of Barnaby or he's not well educated. So, Elnily and I were in very good COlnpany. HJosclito" I-Iuerta was by far the best of the Mexican tore1"OS during the jt'rill, and I was very enthusiastic about the perfonnances of the two Spaniards, Antonio ()rdonez and Miguel Baez, "Litri." There was a Mexican-Spanish boycott in effect when I was learning to loreal; and I had never had an opportunity to see the Spanish Jnatadors. Well, believe Ine, I was impressed. But the 1l1ost exciting thing about those eight days was the early Inorning practice sessions with Illy Hspendthrift" host, Charlie Arruza. I-Ie really was learning to ride. And he W~lS SInart enough to realize he still had a lot to learn. Carlos had illlporrcd a top trainer, Joao Laureano, froln Portugal-a great rejoneado1' in his own right but exceedingly lacking in personality in the plazas. Every morning at dayhreak the three of us would drive to Pasteje, an hour-and-a-half trip from the l·apital. (~~lrl()S had purchased five beautiful Portuguese Lusitano bullfight horses, and he Silllpiy rode hirnself into becolning a cripple. Mari told me that he h'HI not been able to cat, sitting down, for the first six months of his training. But w.nching (:arlos learn l'ejolleo wasn't what thrilled me most. \\Then he finished with the horses, he and I took turns playing at least three fighting cows every Illorning. I'd fought a few tilnes during the l11aking of The Magnificent Matador, hut nothing like this. You would have thought Arruza was my manager with a heavy invCSUllcnt in Illy future. He drove nle to exhaustion. UNo! No! N()~ Bood," he would screaln. "Circle the horns. Step Jorzvard! [\'love jonJ.lllrd! You're going to get us both killed!" I never understood exactly what he meant by "us both," because he was

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yelling at me from behind the protective bZI1·Iadero, but boy, did I listen! C:arlos taught me more in those eight mornings than I had ever learned fronl Fennin and L~renzo. They were little things-little tricks. I was fighting better than 1 had ever fought before, and Carlos and his aficionado pals said they were ilnpressed. However, the sad thing about that trip was I finally realized that Illy darling Emmy and I were drifting apart. She gutted her way through all eight bullfights, but begged off taking those long trips with Ine to the ranch. It wasn't her fault that she simply loathed everything about bullfighting. But I had to face facts, too. We were drifting apart because I had discovered that being in love with sOlneone doesn't make up for the honest fact that you have nothing else in comnlon. And I wasn't at all certain that Em hadn't figured she'd lnade a Inistake. Insecurity in a marriage can sure set up a fella into rationalizing a newly acquired "roving eye." What the hell, if she didn't really love me, I had the right to look around. And Hollywood certainly was the place to be unfaithful. A young director can end up with about anyone he wants. I didn't know just who it was going to be, but I sure felt that shitty feeling coming on. **********

Burt and I reported to Batjac together to begin our meetings with the Duke on Seven Men. That alone was always an interesting experience. First off, when we began to discuss the picture's casting, Wayne came up with a dandy. "Let's use Randy Scott for the lead," he said. "He's sure not doing anything." Well, the Duke's desire to throw poor Mr. Scott a crulnb was the basis for six of the finest filIns I've ever made. Randolph Scott just happened to be one of Hollywood's richest actors. He didn't need anything, Inuch less a fihn. Thank God he said yes. Now, Burt's idea to cast Lee Marvin as our villain was sheer genius. I'd known Lee at Universal where we worked together on Seminole, and I appreciated his ability as an actor. But, in Seven Men F1"om Now, Lee Marvin turned out to be brilliant. Burt and I agreed that Western "heavies" over the years had been portrayed as much too heavy. They rode black horses and wore black hats. You never saw anything good about any of thenl. And they always died at the end of the show. Well, we set out to make our villains extremely attractive. Sure they were going to get killed-eventually-by our hero, but we wanted our audience to really love 'eln while they were still kickin.' We looked forward to the approaching sneak preview of Seve1l Men f,"o'!l1 Now with optimistic enthusiasm. Andy McLaglen had been prolnoted to full producer status, along with the Duke's wonderful brother, Bob Morrison, and Burt and I wanted our film to be a big success for the two of theIn, as well as for us.

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But, as in Jllost athletic gaInes, it "ain't over 'til it's over." \Vhen our sneak previe'w group of the Duke, Boh, Andy, Burt and I turned the corner onto Hollyv.'ood Boulevard, our hearts sank. l'he bright lights on the Inarquee of the Pantages "I'heatcr advertised that the feature filnl of the \veek was Serenade with ""lario Lanza. \"'ayne let out a string of profanities that was loud enough to shock all the people standing in line for tickets. \,Varner Brothers' publicity had set up our wcstern to he sneak previewed with an opera picture. There wouldn't be anyone in the audience under forty years of age. But all \\'e could do was enter the theater and take Ollr preview-reserved seats in the nliddle of the center section. \\'hen the "i\1ajor Srudio Preview" announcement flashed on the screen, the audience applauded. Then, when our Inain title and star credits faded in, Qnethird of the opera fans stood up and headed for the exits. In those days, what had been called "Randolph Scott \Vesterns" weren't exactly what this Inature audience of Inllsic lovers cared to see. "I'hen a spectacular thing happened. As we had planned, before the very first rninlltc of the filtn had played, a shocking gunfight ensued. It was sudden, and unexpected, and those patrons who were headed for the street turned back to reSlllllC their seats. \VeIl, our "-"lasters," played by Lee Marvin, was so daInned atlr~lctive that the preview audience wouldn't have cared if he had shot and killed Rand~·. And Scott was warnl and sOllletimes funny-a completely new western hero whol11 everyone related to. And, when it caIne tilne for him to out-draw Lee, ~lnd .\lan·in did "bite the dust," it was so beautifully done that the applause stopped the show. I 1l1Can, rea'~)' stopped it. As Lee crumpled to the ground, his eyes and Cillpty hands still searching for his undrawn guns, Randy stood still for a long heat, then walked slowly to a boulder jutting up froIn the sand and sat down. I Ie looked off at his fallen cnclny-fricnd, then his chin sank against his chest in deep dispair. lie had cared ahollt ""i\1asters"-a lot-and had hated to gun hiIn down. '1 'hen, for the first and only tinlC of Iny career, the theater audience delnanded to Usee it again." . rhe projectionist rewound the filtn to allow the audience a second view of the finale. And young Burt Kennedy and 1 knew that we, as a teanl, were tinall~! on our war Shortly after the vcry successful sneak of Seven }vlell, Randy arranged a Ineeting for Burt and 1l1C with I-larry Joe Brown, his partner in Scott-Brown Enterprises in C:olulnhia Studios. Harry Joe had been a producer for nlany years and was quire a character. Both Burt and I liked hinl ilnlnediatcly, and Burt was hired to write the screcnplay frolll Elnlore Leonard's exciting novel, The Captives. -I"hcn, when we were all satisfied with the script, I would direct. Suddenly things were ~()in~ so well that I was afraid Illy life Inight deteriorate into becoIning fairly nonnal, hut Arruza's telephone Glll took care of that. (~arl()s and Ruhen Padilla had arranged ~1 benefit hull fight in Tijuana. It was

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for the poor children and the Tijuana hospitals, and they wanted Ine to fight. 'rhe call had caIne through at 2 a.lll. during a full-blown party at Iny hOlne, and-frankly-I wasn't at all certain as to what I had agreed to do ..Vly first inclination was to hang up. I hadn't dispatched a bull in fifteen years, and I weighed 185 pounds. Then I renlembered one of the big reasons I had stopped attending Hollywood parties. No Inatter ,vhere I went, sooner or later I was hound to overhear SOB1e unknown authority on Ille exclailn: "They tell Ine he was a bullfighter. Probably ~l bullshitter would he closer to the truth." I always wanted to drop ]l1Y trousers, right then and there, and ask rhein if these holes in Iny legs got there froIll bullshit. Fortunatelr, I resisted, but I still had that phobia about parties, especially Iny own. I should say "our" own, hecause I didn't care for at least half of the guests who were invited. 1 only drank on Saturday nights, but-if the party was at Ollr house-l Blade i.l point of drinking a lot. Ell1 was sitting on the foot of the bed when I fin.llly opened Illy eyes early Sunday afternoon. I wasn't certain, but it looked as if she was sInilin~. "Do you have any idea just what you are doing six weeks frolll tOlby?" she began. ""ell, I had an idea, but it was very va~TUc. Hyou are going to fight a bull," she continued, "for charity. It would he nice if you'd arrange a little of that charity for your widow." \\'hat .1 hell of a way to wake up! l~hen, piece by piece, I learned the whole truth. Ruhen ~lIld C~lrl()s h~ld W~lIH­ ed the ~~festival" to be in four weeks. I held out for eight. \Ve had settled for six. All I wanted for Iny perfonnance was H,vlanolctc's" suite at the Ilotel C:aes;1r, \\'hich had been luxuriously revalnped for his only (orridl/ in 'I'iju.lna, ~llHI ~lll the food and liquor Illy guests could eat and drink. l~he bad news was that Silverio Perez, olle of the world's best tonTO.\", ~lnd Paco C;orraez, one of l'v1exico's bravest, were going to join C:ar\os and lne: two bulls for C:arlos and Silverio, one each for Paco and Ille. Silverio had spent .1 gre;H deal of tilHe in Iny hOllle, but he really was the guest of C:ar\os ;1nd Ruhen. lIe W~lS no friend of Inine. And, Pan), I had Iller. 'rhat was all. ~rhe day of the benefit C01/·id" arrived Illuch too soon. Elnlll~' ~lnd I ch~cked into the I-Iotel C:aesar Saturday evening, and it wasn't long until the llol\yw()od gang began to arrive: I)ick C:arlson, Bill I-Iolden, SallllllY Fuller ~lnd 11lany of Illy intinlate friends. My cncll1ics didn't begin to arrive until early Sunday Inornin~. Several producers headed that list. And I had t~llkcd Boll Stack into leading the pl/JeO, the opening parade, on horseback. I figured w.llking in hehind Rohert and his horse Illight be a little cOlnforting. I awoke carly froIll the noise of the hr:lss band rnarching down Avenida Rcvolucion. Euuny, ~lgain, was sitting Oil the edge

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of the bed watching I1le. I forced three deep breaths and said: 1I\/Vhat in the hell are we doing here?" III don't know," she ans\\'ered, seriously, "but if one of we isn't careful, one of we is going to get killed." At 2:30 in the afternoon our suite was filled with revelers. I'd made a film at Universal with lovely Abbe Lane, and, now, Abbe's husband, Xavier Cugat, and sorne of his band had arrived and \\fere really tooting it up. Meanwhile, Davey Sharpe, our industry's top stunt man, and Elroy "Crazylegs" Hirsh, the Los Angeles Ranls' all-pro end, were busy taping my ankles. They were very comforting, spending all of their taping time begging me to charter a plane and hurry back to Los Angeles. "Look," Elroy rationalized, "we've all been in some kind of disgrace. It won't be a week before everyone forgets you ran away, and you'll still be alive!" Boy that made sense. But I, honest to God, was ITIOre afraid of what people would think than I was of the bulls. Then, there was an unexpectedly loud knock on the door. It was Arruza. He was in a bathrobe and carried his bullfight costume over his arm. Seerns he'd gotten lonesome down the hall in his little rOOIn. He said he'd appreciate dressing in the suite with me, Little did I know he would danlned near shatter Iny nerves when I asked him for a simple little favor, Each of us stood in front of a bathroonl Inirror adjusting our ruffled shirts and collars, At "festivals" toreros dress in the traditional traje corto, not the gold suit. And, with that outfit, no tie is worn. \\Tell, I was having a great deal of difficulty securing nly collar ornarnents into place. Surprisingly, my hands were shaking. I tried and tried, hut I couldn't hold my fingers still enough to fasten the gold clasps. \Vithout looking at Carlos, I requested saine much-needed help, And suddenly Arruza's two hands appeared directly in front of Iny face. "\Vith U.·hiltt" the world's "Nunlero Uno" said. And the tone of his voice startled Ine· Inore than the fact his hands were shaking as hadly as rnine. It was an interesting trip to the plaza. Carlos and Silverio rode in my car. People honked at Ine, both friends and enenlies, and yelled good luck. The trip h~\d ~lhs()lutcly no dignity. It wasn't at all as if we were on the way to a corrida. It was lllorc like heading for a circus. I guess that's what the fo'lks froITI Hollywood were looking forward to anyway. 'fhe first person we saw as we stepped out of the lirllousine was the Duke. I-Ie held a giant bottle of tequila in one hand, and a bigger hottle of (:oke in the other. Meanwhile, his private airplane pilot was holding hilll up. I WalS surprised to see hirn. I don't nlean surprised at his condition. He was supposed to be in Acapulco. Anyway, I was thrilled that he had come. "IIey, I)ukc," I yelled, Uwhat are you doing here?" U\\'cllll, Jesus (:hrist," he drawled, happily, "if you're gonna get killed, I sure

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as hell want to see it~" Those who were certain I'd never Inake the opening p.lrade 111USt ha\'e heen disappointed. \Vhen I recognized Barney Conrad in the front row, 1 W;lS tickled that he had caIne. 'rhen, when I saw (;ilbert Roland, even~ ounce of CO]lcern about fear vanished. I was going to stick Illy bull right lip th~1t Il1~ltad()r's ass. Neither Silverio nor Carlos cut an award with the first two IlO "i: iI/os. I did gel an opporrnniry to cape C:arlos' anin1al after his second encollnter with the pi({"I()/~ and I chose fregoli71lls, a behind-the-back pass that is very pretty if executed correctly. Well, Iny first four were beautiful, then-on the fifth dash past Illy S(()Jllach-the bull caught Iny cape on his horns and sent it tlying. '1'hen he skidded to a stop and spun around to face Inc. T'here we \""ere, ]ne feeling st;lrk naked without fUY cape, and the young bull only a few feet away, trying to figure out eX~lctly where he'd like to puncture l11y body. 'rhis standoff lasted only six or seven seconds, then Ricardo Aguilar, Carlos' sensational bflutieri/lero sidestepped in ~lIHl lured the bull into his cape. I waited until Ricardo and the bull were a suitable distance away, as l could force Illvse1f to the protection .. and then I walked as casuallv . ' of the red-painted hllrl"dero. But the fact that I hadn't 111o"ed, hadn't panicked, won the crowd. The applause was a deafening delight, and I took Iny first how in front of SaIne of Iny industry's foreIllost doubters. I didn't accon1plish vel)' Il111Ch with the cape of the red-serge 1IIIIIefll with Ill~' bull. I protected nlyself, not 111uch Illorc. But, when it ClIne tiIlle to Illake the kill, I couldn't help thinking of Roland. Now, I'd really do sOlnething speci;ll-sOI1lething that didn't take a lot of talent, just a bundle of guts. I cited down the sword to kiIl1-ecibiendo, which silnply llle.ll1S receiving. You do not lunge tow;lnl the bull. You stand absolutely still and, with the 1l10Venlent of the red cloth, lure the al1iln~ll to pass hy your body_ It was a great way to get Inyself killed, hut-at that tiIlle-it actually secfned worth it. \Vhcn I first called to the hull, he l11erely shook his horns and refused to charge. Arruza stepped out fr0l11 hehind the b"rltlt/fro. "VVait a Ininute, Bood!" he yelled as he l110ved across the s.lnd to take lip ;1 position ten yards directly hehind 111C. I Ie wasn't there to intervcnc. lie W.1S there to keep Inc frol11 heing gored a second til11e. 'rhen I heard his voice say: ··N()w, Bood. Suerte!" I was as surprised as everyone else to sec the hull tllke only three sl~lg~ering steps past 111C, then crash to the sand. It was all over. 'rhe hull was dead. I W~lS alive and I had cut the first trophy of the .1ftcrnoon. Iinadc C:~lI'l()s take the tour of the ring with IllC. It didn't Inatter to Inc th.lt now hoth Silverio .lnd C:.lrloS would show the audience what bullfighting was rC~llly .lhout with the next two bulls. (:arlos had truly been Illy bTuardiml angel! Now, I knew for certain that Iny definitive filIn about bullfighting would he titled /lrrll:::.II. And Illy pa], C:~lI'l()s would play hilllseif.

I ().~

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'r II REF

'rhe following Inorning the Los .I.·lngc/cs 'filllcs' story on the charity bullfight headlined: Hllollywood Director Steals Show." Silverio was furious. Hile didn't do ~l d~lInned thing \vorthwhile," the great Inatador announced. I was inclined to agree with hilll, but boy I'd had fun. I even considered
Burt's tinal screenplay fr0I11 'Tbe Captives was sensational. I felt it would give l11e ~ln oppornlnity to even top SC1:ell .\Ilcn and that would be sonlething. He had den:lopcd another character like Lee 1\1an'in's "l\1asters," who had the sanle carefr<:<: chafin and exuberant narure. He was to be called "Frank Usher," and I had onlr one actor in Illind. I had hecolne intrigued with the weekly perfOrI11anCe of a ~'()ung leading nl~Hl ~lppearing in the half-hour television show ivledic. I liked his pOCk-1l1~lrked face and the fact that he used no Inakeup to hide it. And I loved his voice. Ilis nalne was Rich,lnl Boone and I announced to the srudio I'd like to cast hil11 as ··Frank Usher," It surprised Inc when Harry Joe and others didn't exactly agree with Inc. 'rhey knew that I always inserted a great deal of fun in Iny filrns, and th<:\' seriouslv . . doubted that .voung l\1r. Boone had a sense of hunl0r. Harn'. Joe and S~lIn Briskin suggcsted that I 1l1eet with Boone and feel hiln out. Then, if I decid<:d he could carry the part, I could have Iny way. .\ly secretary got Richard Boone on the telephone. I introduced Inyself and explained the part. lie was vcry interested and I invited hiIn to have lunch with Inc on the following day. lie declined, as .\1rs. Boone was to have S0I11e tests Inade at Scripps (]inic in La Jolla and they'd both be out of town for a week. I got right d()wn to husiness and cxphlineJ that I had a probleIn with several of C:olulnbia's top executives who were of the opinion he had no sense of hUIl1or. There \vas just ;1 1110111cnc's silcnce on the phone, then Richard Boone's wonderful voice said: U\ Veil, Budd, you've got to ~l<.lrnit those heart operations arc pretty fuckin' funny." lie g-ot the joh. And Illy higgest kick was that not one executive relneInbered not wanting Boone in the: picture, because he was absolutely tnarvelous. As far as I was concerned, Dick's perf()rln~lnCC \\'.lS as good as, if not better, than l\1arvin's. l'hey retitled the picture '1hl' 'lid' 'r. It took Burt .lnd Inc five 1110nths to discover why and what the stood for. 'fhcrc WllS another picture registered as The Captives, and rather than go to court over the title, sOlne young executive in New York thought of'rb" 'Iidl 'r. \Ve finally disco\'ered the "'/''' caIne froIn the first letter in .. ' Elilvorde," the owner of the ranch \\'here Randy goes to buy the Brahn13 bull. .\ty point is-beware of New York studio executives. They'd screw up The Ho~y Hible .1S a title if they thought the title rights Illight cost a buck or two. '--

"'rot

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Burt's The Tall T was the second of seven straight filnls I I1lade with Randolph Scott. Burt wrote four of the seven; my long-tilTIe pal, Charles Lang Jr. (who also did the script for The Magnificent Matador), wrote the other t\vo I really liked. Now, a not-so-funny thing about writers is that they don't spend a lot of friendly hours with their directors. No Inatter what, they always secrn to feel that we're sabotaging their words of wisdolTI, hUl1lor and pure gold. \\-Tell, when a good writer completes his screenplay he should feel that he h~lS put the best of what he can offer on paper. That's it. There's the script. So, shoot it. Hell, if a good, knowledgeable, talented director can't irnprove at least one thing in all those golden words and situations, he's not worth his salt. So why do these brilliant penmen spend all of the director's filtning days in a blue funk? At any rate, having two of Iny best friends write five of those filrns was, in Iny opinion, what Inade those Scott pictures exceptional. \-\le talked to each other-all the time. And, dalnn it, if sonlething in the dialogue didn't scern to work-we fixed it-togethe1: And best of all-after six pictures togetber we're still toglJtbe1~-and the greatest of friends. Perhaps sorneone should do a book on writers versus directors. It Illight just give us prilna donnas a hint that we rcally fill speak English-and can actually C0l1l111unicate. Everyone always wants to know what kind of gentlelnan W::1S Randolph Scott. Let's start with "GentleInan." There never was one finer. 'T'he lllore you got to know hiITI, the I1lore you realized that the South should have won the C:ivil \'V~lr. We had just cOlllpleted a tough day's fihlling on Ride LOneS0I11f, .1nd were having dinner when Randy looked up frolll his steak. "Hey, you two," he began, "what's the nal1le of that skinny young fella in the red underwear I played that scene with today?" "Coburn's his nmne," Burt answered. "Janles C:oburn." "Good. He's all right," Randy said. "So, why don't YOli two drealll up SOll1e new lyrics for that boy? I like his style." He was like that with everyone who deserved it. C:heck out the list. In those Scott pictures, Burt, Charlie and I-with a lot of help frolll the fclbs thClllselves-were able to create six new stars: Lee j\1arvin, Richard Boone, C:raig Stevens, Jall1eS Coburn, Pernell Roberts and (:Iaude Akins. As far as Illy fihns with Randolph Scott .lrc concerned, I h.1VC never included Westboul1d, which in tny opinion could have continued right on into the P~H.·ific Ocean. We.rtbolll1d was a Inission of rescuc, nothing rllorc. It \"'~lsn't ul1til after the third picture with Randy that I was told he had one nlore contractual obligation ;It Warner Brothers, and I considered that a disaster. Burt and I had worked too h~lrd to create a different character for our star than to have hilll regress to Illaking another "Randolph Scott Western." I contacted I lcnry Blanke at \ Varners,' who was set to produce the show, and offered Illy scrvices as the director. lie quickly

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explained to rne that their budget couldn't match Iny salary. And I b1l1Tied to explain to ,\r1r. Blanke that I'd settle for $1.50 in order to keep sonleone else froin directing our star. \Vell, we Inade the deal. l\'ot for $2.50, but I did have the opportunity to help Blake the filrn a little bit better. I've
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told Ricardo to move Iny bull to the center of the ring. I-Ie tells Ine he is afraid. I say, you and I have been fighting bulls for twenty-five years, Ricardo, and no\'.' you are afraid of the bull? And Ricardo says, 'No, Carlitos, I aln not afraid of the bull. It's you and that God dalllned horse!'" **********

So, now I had all of the action filtn I needed except the big finale in Plaza Mexico. \Ve would fihn the story itself at Pasteje as soon as ] discovered the proper leading lady to portray Mari Arruza. rrhis was going to be tough because .\lari was about the n10st special Spanish lady you could ever hope to Ineet. But that could wait until after "Legs" Dil1ulOl1d was tlnished. 'rhen I intended to just pack my bags and stay in Mexico until Illy picrure was cOlllpleted. It would be good for Ine to get out of the country for a long drawn-out picture .•\1y thirteen-year Ilurriage to Elnily had ended in divorce. ()f course it was Illy fault. And, at the tinlC, I was stupid enough to think it was a good Jl1ove. Naturally her Illove was, but I was inclined to think that it was a good Inove for Ine too. But I sure was going to Iniss my two beautiful little girls. Georgia was ten and Iny baby l-lelen was eight. Ilden was the tOlnboy, and could lick any little boy in the neighborhood. (~e()rgia took after her Illother. She was a true young lady in every sense of the word. l\fly fondest Inernory of those kids was of Illy daily return frolll the studio e~lch e\'ening. Most of the tilne it would already be dark but, no Inatter what, llclen would be perched atop the tallest tree in our front y~lrd, on the lookout for her dad. And Georgia, day after day, evening after evening, would be huddled at the base of the tree sobbing her heart out in the overwheltning fear that lIden, at any 11101l1CIH, would come crashing down to her death. I would brake the car beside the t~lll pine, comfort Georgia into a slnile, then reprirnand Illy youngcst for her daring. It was a lot of fun, and I would 111iss it. Still, in those days, flashing hack at Illy new "Guinevere," I could only ren1enlber her devastating beauty, and the plans for our future together. It's funny how those of us who are natural rOlnantics keep looking for U] J:ld~' C;uinevere," when we've got her right at honle. Elnily Boctticher was ~l saint-still is. She was beautiful and she loved I11e-for a long while. But, darnn, if I didn't keep looking. Well, I finally thought I'd discovered all the "(;uineveres" in the world rolled into one. She was elegantly beautiful, extrelnely talented, and she just worshiped the ground I walked on. Now isn't tbat .1 pile of crap! I ~rucss it t;\kc:s ;\ young director a good while before he begins to understand that the g-irl he sees every evening up there on the screen is bis version of what bt' wants frOlll a WOJnan. She's not for real.' There you are, holding hands in the dark projection rooln with your leading lady, and silllply adoring chat gal in the tllrll. ()f course

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arc. JOII put her there~ l'hat's the way you like her to talk and that's the way yo" like her to walk. I-Iell, everything she is doing up there is what YOIl like. fOIl're the director. \Yell, brothers, grow up. ()nce, at the University of Southern C:alifornia, a young fihn srudent asked nle what was the Inost ilnportant thing for an aspiring director to learn. The head of the fihn school, Arthur Knight, didn't appreciate Iny answer, hut I couldn't wait to say: "'Never go to bed with your leading lady until the last night of the picture!" \ \'ell, Iny U(;uinevere" rurned out to be "Nlorgan Ie Fay," and I ended up getting exactly what was c0l11ing to Ille-a bellyful of misery, absolutely ill about Illy falnily, and thoroughly disgusted and angry at nly own stupidity. A Illotion picture director should only becolne involved \\lith an actress in spite of her profession, not because of it. So, in three dreadful years I lost all Iny friends. That's just for starters. C)f course, they were all on "standby." "Colne and see us," they said, "but cOlne alone." l~[owc\'cr, there was a hUlnorous ending to the affair. The young lady'S Inothcr and father were invited to visit. It caIne as no surprise to Ine that they were invited to \'isit their future son-in-law. \Vell, as far as those two delightful people were concerned, I couldn't have becorne better related. I-Ie was as channing and handsollle as a father-in-Ia\\' could be, and she was Inore beautiful, in her fifties, than hef daughter. rrhe four of us were driving past the Beverly Hills Hotel the first evening they were in town. I was at the wheel, the young lady beside Ine, and her p;lrents in the rear. It had been a fairly pleasant afternoon. \\!e'd all faked it rather well, ~lIH.I suddenly the sClni-contented silence of the drive was broken by her Illother's soft voice: HBudd, tbrling-," she began, "it's so wonderful that our daughter has finally 1l1et S0J11eOne strong like you. I've never seen such a change in anyone. You know, deaf, when she was a little girl she used to have absolutely unforgivable tantrulns." 'rhcre \\'~lS a piercing scrC3111. 'II-affie skidded to a stop. T'he right front door flew open and l11ot hcr's little girl" \vent dashing across the park, still screalning bloody Jllurder .1S she tlnally disappeared into the trees and bushes. I felt a pair of eyes hunling into Illy neck and I glanced up at the rear-view Illirror. I shall never forget that dose-up of her 1l1other as she said, quite silnply: HBudd, darling-doll't.''' \Vell, I didn't. And it was tilllC to rnake "Legs" Dirl1nol1d and get the hell out of Iiollyw()()d for awhile. YOll

H

* • ********

'rhe Ina ki ng of Tbl' RiJe lIud Ftll! of ULegs" Di(l1nond was an experience I'll never forget. I'd like to, hut I never will. It's not very often you have an opportu-

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nity to work \vith a producer as educated, ch'lrnling ~lnd genuinely funny ~lS Milton Sperling. It's just a shalne that he hecolnes stich a pain in the ass when the picture goes into production. I thought, at first, it was just that our two personalities clashed. Then I heard Otto Prerninger give ~l fiftcen-Jninute dissert.nion on the evils of working with l\1iiton for the very ,unused Jvlike "\'albce, and I realized there \vere other directors who ended LIp \v
~

lOt)

C II .-\ PTE R

'r II R E E

'rhe great writer just stared at Ine, because now I knew he hadn't written one dUlnned word of it. I was certain s0I11ebody else (I figured three somebody elses) had wrinen this piece of shit, because none of the styles of the thirds matched. I stood there a long titne. I wanted to throw the script at his face, but I adlnired Phil Yordan and I just couldn't do it. vVhat hurt me nl0st was his complete disregard for Ine-about nly picrure. I wouldn't do to an enemy what he had done to Inc. Finally I just placed the screenplay on his desk and walked down the stainvay to Iny car. 'r'he first day of fihning was only two weeks away and I realized I'd have to do a lot of ad-libbing to CaIne up with a decent picture. Boy, if this was a sample of big-time Hollywood, send me back to Burt, Randy and Harry Joe. Lucien Ballard was n1y calneraman. Of course, the only way Lucien was not alw(lYs going to be n1y can1eraman was if some other director beat Ine to him. Anyway, when Lucien and I realized what our producer was doing, we began running all the fihn Illade in the "Legs Dialnond" era (the early 1920s) to study the caJnera technique. \\!e noticed that the calnera didn't move in those days. And there were no "dolly" shots, very few pans, and the cinematographers didn't use foreground pieces. So, to try to do S0711ething different, we decided to fihn l)ill'lllOl1d in the 1920s fashion-shot for shot, nothing fancy. I was amused at Milton's reaction after he'd viewed the first day's work. He dashed on the set to confront Ine \vith: "I thought you said Lucien Ballard was a good cameralnan." "Please quote me correctly, Milton," I said. "Lucien Ballard is a g7~eat camcralnan!" "\\'ell, that's your opinion," Milton huffed. "Yesterday'S stuff looks like it wa~ shot in 1920." Evenrually, the tension got so bad on the set that Milton decided to replace Inc. 'l'here was a Ineeting in rny office-trailer with Milton, Lucien, Steve "Irilling-vice president of vVarners' (a real first-class schmuck)-and Ine. They hurriedly announced that sOlncone e]se was being set to finish the picture. Lucien and I stood up and headed for the door. H\Vhere are you going, Mr. Ballard?" Trilling asked. "We have more to talk ahout. " "I !-,1l1CSS we're hoth going hOlne," Lucien answered with all of his worldly ch'lrrn. "And Y'ou'd better have your new can1eralnan get in touch with me as soon as YOll C~ln. I think Budd's intentionally left out about every other shot since we suspected this Blight happen, and the two of us are the only ones who know what those shots arc." :'\:c.:ar the end of the picture I got a particularly funny call fraln Bill Schaeffer, .J ~lck \ Varner's very private Iuale secretary. Mr. Warner was at the point in life when he WilS beginning to forget things, and Bill was requested hy the boss to

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record all of his conversations. Now, 1l1ost people at \,Varners' weren't really aware tha t, as far as Jack \:Varner was concerned, I could do no wrong. I had IHade Bullfighter \vith Joy Page as Illy leading lady, and since Joy was Mr. \\r~Hner's stepdaughter, he had Inenl0rized that filIn shot for shot, word for word. 'rhcn there was Se7.'en J1ell, which 1\1r. \Varner considered one of his finest westerns. And. now I was directing a gangster filtn-\\rarner Brothers SnH.lio's early hrc;HI ~lJHI butter. Anyway, Bill Schaeffer and I liked each other. And Bill had telephoned Inc to have Inc listen to a conversation between '\1r. \V,lrncr and .\1iltoll that had just happened a few Ininutes before. ~'C()lonc]," ;\1ilton's voice began, "do you know what th~lt sOllobhitch has done now?" "\Vhat sonofabitch, .\1ilton?" "Budd Boetticher." "YVell, what did Budd do to you now?" "I--Ie told I1le to go to PalIn Springs until the picnlre is finished." "Really, 1\1ilton?" the boss said. "\\11cre are you going to sta~'?" It was Saturday evening halfway through the editing of /)i,"lIo/1i1 when Lucien called for the tenth tillle. I'd spent the entire i:lfternoon working Illy stallion and was luxuriating in the Jacuzzi, fully intending to stay neck-deep in the s\\'irling hot water for hours. "\Vell, did you call her?" Illr dr~lnli.ltic cinenl.ltogr~lphcr dCIll;llHkd. \ \'c \1 been all over this ten tilnes hefore. "Call another actress!" 1111oaned. "Jesus, Lucien, get off In~' h;lCk~" "Debra's not allotbe7' actre.\)'.' She's the nicest young lady I\'C e\'er \\'C)J'ked .h " WIt ,an(I... I had his routine nlenl0rized. "And the prettiest, and the sweetest. :lnd, .. " I-Ie cut Inc off. "Good, you're finally getting it straight. 1'\()W, call her. :\11 your friends \\.'ould like to have you hack in circulation with SOllleone we can stonlach~ You h3ven't had a date in l110nths and you're screwing lip our dinner parties. 'rhis bachelor extra-IHan crap has got to go!" And he hung up. \ \'ell, what the hell. It was "Saturday night out" in I-Iollywood, ~lnd thc indusrrr's "\liss Perfect" had to have a date. She'd have turned down (:ary (;rant for tonight-Inuch less Ine. I dialed the nUlnber Lucien had given 111C weeks her()r~. "Miss Paget, please," I said to the hutler who answered the phone. ".\ly n31l1e is Budd Boetticher. l\1iss Paget and I haven't Iller, but. .. " 4"rhat's all right, sir," the very-Southenl black voice answered, "I'll go fetch her." Now, did you ever hear church bells ring on a spring evcning? \Vcll, th~ll 's how Miss I)ebra Paget's voice sounded to ll1C cOlnpared to the screcching I'd dalnned near gotten used to the past threc years. lVc talked for .1 while-small talk. I told her that Lucien should receive &l C0l111l1issioll as her social agcnt, and

11 I

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1~HREE

she laughed and relnarked that he had been most complimentary about me, too. All of a sudden, I wasn't hoping at all that she had a dinner-date for the evening. I suddenly wanted very much to take Miss Paget anywhere she wanted to go. I wished I had called last Monday. But, I still took a shot at it. UI \\'as wondering if we Inight have dinner some time. Like-well, like maybe even tonight? t, uHold on a second," she said. "There's the other phone." I heard the deadness of her hand over the receiver for one long moment, then: "Wrong number," she laughed. "Happens all the time. Now, you were suggesting tonight. I'd love to. Eight o'clock?" I nodded, eagerly, then realized she was waiting for an answer, and I finally Inanagc(I "'h eig toe 'I oc k" '. Shc gave Ine the address and the directions how to get there, and said goodbye. Oalnn, if Lucien wasn't right! Of course, he was right about WOInen. He'd sure 1l1arried a couple of smashes. At eight o'clock, sharp, I found Inyself whistling as I drove up the steep hill to the beautiful hOlne overlooking Universal Studios. Maybe this wasn't going to he as explosive as Iny last day down there, I thought, but I sure figured it was going to be the beginning of an interesting experience.

112

Culver Military Academy 1935.

Lorenzo

arza" 1 Magnifico."

The "Maestro," Fernlin

pin

3,

"Armillita."

Ith ilverio Perez and "Armillita" 1939.

The early days on the bullbr eding ranch .

uldn r I r Ily ~ I m r

, mt rtabl

artyln the

t otbaIl?

~-

-~-

-~-

--- - - -

~--~-- --- -----­

-

-~

-~--~-

-~-

-~-

-~-

- - ---

Clowning with one of my favorit ladies of all tim ,Rita

-~-

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ayw rth.

-.~-

----

rn an

ynn

rrick a I

nt mp lat a ery

OW lg

dire cto r' unc erta inti es.

mily.

pre id nt run lan film, w H d n Shipboard) US "Fall River" during

UL

IGHTE THE LADY

At a tienta under the protective eye f' The Duke," J hn Wayn

"Matador" R land, J y Paige and my dear fri nd ' Ro'

J

rad .

Busy getting Horace McCoy's giant close-up, as scri pted.

Brahrna bull killing down.

With Jeff Chand) r on ' Red Ball Express."

A clo e call with

alifa."

The Tijuana "Beneficio" April 195 5.

The Tijuana "Beneficio H April 1955.

Arruza

per~

rmi ng the" a nera."

'Uing Tecibiendo ~ r an ar. I

CHAPTER

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pated. As a matter of fact, following the three-year fiasco 'with "lV1organ Ie Fay," I had seriously considered castration. And having decided to one day perform the operation Inyself, I had consulted several of Illy young doctor friends as to exactly what brand of butcher knife to purchase. T'he last thing in the world I wanted was any form of involveInent. But despite all these personally avowed intentions, I was soon to discover that I had fallen in love with Debra Paget. Lucien really was right. Debra was the nicest and prettiest young lady in the picture business. The "picture business" part of it did bother tne, but not for long, as Debra Paget was also adorable. Now "adorable" really isn't a very grown-up word, but my Miss Paget fit the bill. I'd never 111et anyone like her, and I was tickled to death with Iny discovery. But then to Iny surprise, after our very first week together, I found it ilnpossible to turn back even if I had wanted to. It didn't bother me that the evening of our first date she had borrowed a quarter frolll Ine to call her mother. Hell, I admired that. After all, we were having dinner on the pier in Malibu, and that was a good forty-five Illiles frolll their hOIne. So, it started out great. It wasn't a whirlwind courtship. \Ve both just fell in love. During the first two weeks we spent lllost of the daylight hours on horseback. Debra was a sensational rider. The real night-roInance began with her two words, "turn left." It was the after-dinner part of our fourteenth consecutive date, and I had signaled to turn right off Sepulveda to her house. Left was the way to my apartment. The timing was lousy. She knew better and I knew better. But, W~ both were strong and financially successful and we were going to Illake it work. We were nlarried eight days later. Now a lot of n1y renewed pals thought I was on the rebound. T'hat W~lsn't true. And it certainly wasn't that I was in1pressed with her talent. I'd seen Debra

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in only one fibn-(~. B. DeMille's 71.](: Ten C07l11nt117dnTellts-and all I relnelnbered W~lS th~lt I thought Deb was 1l1uch too young and too beautiful for Edward G. Robinson. 'rhe real truth of falling in love with Debra was that it was ahnost ilnpossible not to. I \\las sure that scores of young 111en in the past had found thcnlscl\'cs elnhroiled in the saIne predicaInent. 'I'hen there were Inany who said our l11arriage wouldn't last because of I)ebra's 1110ther, Maggie C;riffin. But against all jokes and tradition, I greatly ~lthnired Iny 111other-in-law, and I knew they were Inistaken. ivlaggie had heen a burlesque stripper in her youth, and she l11ade no bones about it. She was abollt the l110st down-to-earth person I had ever known. She and I had only one real probleln. \iVe both were in love with the saIne girl. Maggie had taught Debra everything she knew. All of Hollywood had stonned abuse on l\tlaggie's broad shoulders, and she had taken it all with no con1plaints. When any catastrophe threatened Debra's career, Deb kept quiet and Maggie, as always, aSSlllned con1plete responsibility. She had protected her daughter like a Inother grizzly, and none could break through her ilTIpregnable barrier until I sOlnehow h~ld Inanaged. Secretly I had often wished that Illy wife had inherited SOine of her 11lother's better qualities. t\Jow Illy beautiful bride was tiny all over and seelningly made of porcelain. But it wasn't long before I discovered that the porcelain could explode like shrapnel ~lnd destroy everything in its path. Consequently, I felt it was Iny Inoral obligation to avoid those explosions, and I did everything I could to change Iny personality to suit her. I-Iell, I really cared! Well, it wasn't easy. j\1ostly I think she cringed at nly outspokenness, particularly n1y confidence in Iny ability to Inake good filIns. I tried to explain that confidence wasn't necess~lrily conceit. I knew Iny job on the set and I said so. But she continued to cringe. And I was sure that she had the iInpression that I didn't cn1~e. I don't mean "didn't Clre" ahout Iny tIlIns. Everyone understood that I cared passionately about them. Debra was certain that I didn't give a dalnn about what people tbought. That couldn't have been further frorn the truth. I cared what everybodJI thought. But I considered that a personal weakness and tried to keep it can10uflaged. \!Vcll, all ncwl}'\\'cds have problenls, and I kept fighting for what I believed in-LIS. But the already thin ice of our lnarriage got one hell of a lot thinner following the fillnily C:hristl113s party at her horne. I stood it as long as I could and r;ltion~llized every reason in the world that what I was witnessing was none of my husiness. 'rhen finally, as the afternoon wore on, I nlanaged to rid Inyself of all honorahle intentions ~lnd proceeded to get staggeringly drunk. I renlclnber feeling a deep kinship, then a consuming passion, for the giant cut-glass punch howl in the 111iddle of the gaily decorated dining rOOln table. By tlve o'clock it was the only thing in the entire house with which I had something

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in COlnll10n. Because by four-thirty, all of Debra's l110re than ten thousand dollars worth of Chrisnnas toys for her little nephews, nieces and cousins had been totally destroyed by theln. And one 1110ther-relative had stonned out l11uch earlier, having discovered that the total cost of her child's gifts hadn't seelned up to the estimated cost of SOIne of the others. The day after Christlllas Debra and Maggie wanted Ine to join Alcoholics Anonyn10us. I declined-nl0stly because I didn't feel quite up to it at the tin1e. Then two days later, when the effects of Ill)' rOInance with the punch bowl had disappeared, I considered organizing a group of my own-"Suckers AnonYlnous"-and penciled in Iny darling wife and her ITIother as charter 1l1elTIbers. The gossip colulnnists-Hedda Hopper, Louella Parsons and I-larrison Carroll-reported that we were getting a divorce. I spoke with I-Iarrisoll, a longtime friend and fan of Inine, and he wanted to know why I didn't quit "right now" while I was ahead. I told hiIl1 silnply that a divorce was not Iny idea and that I couldn't imagine where the rulnor caine froln. A'iide fro1l1 that, quitting wasn't Iny style. It didn't take Ine long to discover that the divorce idea didn't start with Debra either. Fortunately, the week following the holidays Debra and her lllother left for Europe. She had back-to-back picture cOlll1nitIllents with Fritz Lang, and it was her duty to fulfill them. Suddenly being alone again was like sitting in the locker rooln at half tilllC with your tealn behind 20-0. I began to put this disaster in its proper perspective and face up to the fact that I'd fallen in love with a lovely young lady and In.uricd her, but that I didn't know one daIl1ned thing about her talent as an .lctress. I set out to discover all about cvcl'ytbil1J!: and protnised tnyself it would be one hell of ~1 second half. I fully intended to give it ]ny best shot. I set up screenings at ColuJnbia of Iny wife's pictures. Even Universal was cooperative. I saw IJeh as Jirnlny Stewart's lovely Indian bride, through the gorgeous rlahitian lass swirllIning in the blue ocean, then all the way through the crap she had been Ina king in Europe. Hell, what had happened to Debra's faltering career could be SUllll11Cd up in one word-Maggie. I authenticated Illy sllspicion of her ditninishing success hy seeking out her directors and producers, and the directors and producers for Wh0111 she didn't work. It didn't surprise Ine that they all had the saine answer. Sure she was talented. C:ertainly she was one of the 1110st heautiful girls in 1l1otion pictures. But l11any of the filrns she was considered for were to he I1lade on location, and the directors and producers just didn't need their filnls chaperoned. That had absolutely nothing to do with Maggie personally. Everyone who got to know Maggie liked her. She was a real trouper. But those in power who didn't know her silnply didn't appreciate the thought of her looking over her grown-up daughter's shoulder. I guess they also thought it would Cnl111p their style. llcll, Deb could have "cramped their style" in a hurry-all by herself. Anyway, the sad

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part was that 111any of her considered roles went to other young stars with talent, like lovely Joan Collins. And I had beard Deb and Maggie discuss their rnisfortunes. Neither one could figure out what happened. Well, I wasn't about to tell theln. I was just going to fix it. I decided to cast my wife as Mari Arruza. r d get her beauty and talent on the screen with dignity and chann. I telephoned Carlos, and he and Mari were delighted. I made another quick call, hopped in my car and headed for Beverly Hills. It now was the time to fully discuss my plans with Iny hot-shot business tnanager. Jeff Martin was a handsome Olan, wel1 over six feet, with a strong face adorned by an outlandishly pretentious waxed moustache. On his right hand he wore a gigantic dialnond ring that encased a tiny gold toothpick-attached to the ring by a slender gold chain. The cumbersomeness of the ring sometimes forced Jeff to experience a little difficulty in shaking hands, but he was able to use the gold toothpick in all the better restaurants. Jeff's new office was the showcase of Beverly Hills. Everything in it was either expensively soft or expensively shiny. The vast expanse of windows and glass partitions always reminded nle of the sheer simplicity of seeing through the thin shell of Jeff's recently acquired aura of sophistication and culture. His sudden success in Holl}"Vood had delighted Ine and, observing what it was doing to Jeff, I had found it quite amusing. In Jeff's office there were only two employees he felt he could trust: Joe Glaxon and Eddie Fare. Joe Glaxon was slender and romantically handsome. There was a great deal of visible Latin in him, and he had recently escaped from Cuba with Castro's revolutionists nipping at his heels. The short-cropped beard he had grown as a disguise he now considered good luck. He had always been very outspoken in his personal a ffection for nle. Eddie Fare was short, bespectacled and pleasingly plump to his friends. He had no outspoken opinions about anything-unless the opinions were Jeff's. It wasn't a fun meeting, but I was so genuinely fond of Jeff that I did ITIy best to keep it on a friendly tack. Joe sat and listened and seemed to understand Illy reasoning. Eddie nodded or shook his head according to Jeff's last sentence, while Jeff did his best to have ITIe sell my cut film for stock footage and get on with my career. I-Ie did like the idea of Debra playing Mari Arruza, hut he still considered Iny obsession for A1TllZa a terrible business blunder. His 5 percent of me was worthless. And what Inoney I had left was all going out. He figured he'd ended up with a tiger by the tail, and only a very uncomfortable feeling in his stomach to show for it. He sat there behind his oversized ivory desk, puffing on one of his notoriously outsized cigars, staring at the novelty gimmick before him-a blackboxed contraption that advertised in gold letters: PANIC BUTfON. The hutton

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itself was I1lade of silver, and it workcd-loudly-when touched either by accident or cirCUI1lstance. Finally Eddie broke the silence. "I still think 1\1r. iVlartin's idea of using a st:1r to play your bullfIghter Illight salvage this Bless." I can't relnelnber ever speaking with 1l10re utter caltn. It \\'.lS necess~lry because I wanted to explode. "Eddie," I began, "we've been ,111 through that. 1'111 not discussing the s~lh-;1tion of a filtn. \,Ve're talking about the best approach for cOlllplcting it." But he wouldn't quit! ~'I'\'e always iIl1agined T()ny Curtis in those cute goldspangled cosnnnes," he continued, "and I think ... " I stood up, but before I could strangle hilll, Joe leaned forward and wa\'cd the side of his hand across Eddie's throat. "(=ut~" he said. l\nd the rOOIl) grew silent again. Finally Jeff nloved his finger away frol11 the "panic button" and extended his hand to Ine. "You know how I feel about you," he said. "Do whate\'er ~'Oll like. 1'111 behind you one hundred percent." He tried to slllilc. "I do suggest, however, rh~lt we all pray a lot." **********

Debra and Maggie caIne hOlne in April, and Deb \vas swceter th.ln e\'er. Maybe absence does Inake the heart grow fonder. I don't know. But I suddenly had renewed confidence in what we were about to do. Jeff Inade all the arrang-eInents for Inc to purchase a new Rolls-Royce. I had it repaintcd white and silver as we had a lot of night filrning. 1 also expected that it would give C:,lrloS sOlne ,HIded class-outside the bullring. And on l\1ay 7, 1961, I)ehra and I crossed the Mexican border at Nogales, sure of ourselves and certain of the future sllccess of our project. I renleillber that 1 relnarked at the tilne: ~~Fronl now on it's .111 downhill." The shiny new white and silver Rolls-Royce caused quite ,1 stir ~lt the border, but not half the COllllllotion Debra caused to erupt when she was recognized hy the young officers of the custOlllS patrol. Each had seen everyone of her pictures, and we were held at bay for a good half hour as she cheerfully autographed c~lI"ds, paper napkins and gray-white shirts. It was Iniserably hot and sticky, but I thoug-ht it best not to l1lention the discolnfort when we were finally released to hit the highway. Instead, I press-buttoned up the windows and switched on the air conditioning. My silence was a point well Blade. Debra cast Inc ;1 pouty frown, then leaned back and opened her pink silk blouse to expose her bare full breasts to the sudden coolness. "\Vhat could I do, darling? 1'111 sorry!" I grinned down at her. She was such a little girl. "(:olne 011, I)ell! 1 loved it.

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You know how proud I am of you." She blew me a short kiss and snuggled over tight against my shoulder. "Honey?" "Mmmlnnlmm?" "VVhy didn't you speak Spanish to that guard back there at the border?" I pulled nly foot off the accelerator, and the speedometer needle bounced back to eighty-seven. Those few seconds gave me time to think up a quick answer. "Deb, a long time ago I started practicing a damned good habit when I'm in Mexico. I don't speak Spanish to anyone I don't know really well unless I have to." Debra frowned. "I make a point to always try to speak Italian when I'm in Italy." "Good," 1 said. "You're the personality kid and everyone loves you. But I'm not running for office. I make movies." The furrows in her pretty brow grew deeper. "I don't know what making movies has to do with speaking Spanish. God, I wish I could understand you." "Well, just keep trying," I laughed. "Eventually it might work." She giggled and leaned across the steering wheel to kiss my chin, and I quickly compensated for the near miss. It was difficult to kiss at nearly ninety miles an hour, but we managed it rather gracefully until I felt the shoulder gravel grind under the right-side tires. I swung the Rolls back onto ~e highway, pressed the button that pushed back the front seat and lowered my wife's head onto my lap. "Take a nap, sweetheart. We've got a long way to go." Pulling the halves of her open blouse together over her exposed breasts, I turned the air conditioning down to low. Debra had the kind of figure that never really should have been covered. But it was cold in the car. She was also a driving hazard as, although I had thoroughly memorized every square inch of her body, she was still new to Ine and overwhelmingly exciting. And I did have to keep my eyes on the road. Damn it! Why in the hell didn't I take the time to really explain about not speaking Spanish? I answered that to myself immediately. I just didn't want to take the chance. I guess I'd rather treat her like a child than have her completely confused as to how I thought. Debra loved Mexico more than any other country in the world. She sincerely believed there was nothing really wrong with it. I, too, loved Mexico. But I was old enough and experienced enough to know that there was a great deal wrong with our next-to-favorite country. And the "wrongness" was best exemplified by all the public officials, businessmen and, especially, Inotion picture executives. This "hands across the border" propaganda is wishful thinking. The Mexicans have learned to hate our guts, because the average loudInouthed, spendthrift tourist who descends upon their beautiful country is totally unprepared to represent the United States. We should be more careful who gets out of our country than who gets in. So it's become a matter of national pride for

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the Mexicans to stick it to us every chance they get. For two of Iny three fihns down here, having learned my lesson on the first one, I sat in supposed ignorance while some very shady deals were being negotiated in Spanish all around Inc. Then, when it became time to rnake decisions, I nlade theln based on what I had overheard and I was able to save one hell of a lot of nl0ney. A straw-sombreroed peon frantically pushed his burro off the highway as I swung wide to Iniss hiln. Debra opened her eyes. "Sorry, darling," 1 said. "Traffic." "I wasn't asleep. I've just discovered sotnething. You know, I really love you." I slowed the car and tried to count to ten, but Debra interrupted ]ny counting. "So?" I braced myself. "Does 'so' lnean I need to say I love you?" She nodded. "Well/' I concluded, "as long as you're sitting next to Ine you know <1'lInn well I love you." She stared across at me for a long beat, then lay back with her head on Iny lap and closed her eyes. I set my jaws tight and focused Iny attention on the long straight road ahead until her measured breathing assured I11e that she finally was fast asleep. I didn't want to explode, even in IUy own lllind, until I was cert~lil1 that the coast was clear. This nlarriage was a tightrope high, high up in the ~lir. I'd known that the first time I'd nlet the whole dmnned falnily-the day after the sudden wedding. "1 just discovered sOInething. You knov/ I really love you~" ''''hat a stupid, childish thing to say! \\!here in the hell had she been for the last one yenr, three months and twenty-seven days, plus all that tinlc I was courting her whcn CVCI-Ybody, except her father who hated Iny guts, thought Inarrying Inc was a sens,ltional idea? Well, with Deb I had learned to rationalize abnost anything, and stc.11 froll1 Margaret Mitchell. Like Scarlett O'Hara, I'd think about it "t0I110ITOW." **********

"Be careful with that box," I cautioned the bellboy in J\1azatlan, who wns struggling under the weight of nine reels of filn1. "Si, senor, but this is very heavy!" ~'It's a lot heavier than you think," I said, taking the cardboard box away frolll the boy and carrying it into the Hotel Playa. In that hox was \vh,lt WllS left of over a quarter of a Inillion dollars: nine reels of color filtn cut down froll1 eightyseven-all the finest action froln three years' 'work. In it .llso \\'.lS Iny lovc, Ill~' ambition, Illy career and possibly even Illy Inarriage. I knew that, and now I was certain that Debra knew it, too. 1 placed the box on the floor in front of the desk

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so that I could still feel it against Iny leg, and signed the register. l~hen I heard Deb's voice. '~I'nl Debra Paget," she was saying to the desk clerk. "I'd like to place a long distance call to Illy Illother, l\1rs. Maggie Griffin, in North Hollywood, California." She swung around to face l11e. ~'No\\r, honey, don't give l11e one of your looks. You know that I'ln going to talk to I110ther every evening no 111atter where we arc. " I took the car keys frolll the bellboy, who was now loaded down with Debra's furs, picked up the filtn box and headed for the open elevator. 1 heard my wife's voice repeat slowly, "No, operator, it's POP L A R one-two-six-six-eight." A waiter knocked, then entered the roonl to place two double martinis on the table. "Colnplilllents of the Inanager," he explained as he waited for Iny tip. \\'hen the door closed behind hiln, I reilloved the white onions froln the frosted glasses, then walked into the bathrooln and poured the martinis down the toilet. Crossing back to Debra, I handed her one of the onions on its toothpick. "I don't think these will hurt us." She stiffened. "There's no need to be sarcastic." "That wasn't 1l1eant as sarcaslll," I said quietly. "I really don't like the stuff. \;\!hat I want to find out one day is why you are so violently opposed to any form of drinking. Did your ... ?" The telephone rang. Debra rushed to pick it up. "Yes, this is Miss Paget ... Hello, Inother. 1'111 fine." I Inotioned to her that I'd l11eet her downstairs, stepped into the hallway and headed for the elevator. I was l11et by a bellboy rushing upstairs to announce that Iny own long dismnce call was ready. I crossed the lobby and entered the phone booth. "Jeff, how are you?" "I-low the devil ,lre you? Thank C;od, you're safe. Maggie Griffin's been driving Inc fruit. She's called here three tilnes in the last two hours." "()h, for C:hrist's sake! Debra talks to her every night. As a matter of fact, she's t~llking to her right now. 1'111 downstairs in the lobby." "\;Vell, Mrs. C;riffin's worried to death about the way you drive. After all, your wife's her prize daugh ... " "Jeffrey, everybody's been worried about the way I've done everything since I was born. I should have been dead twenty years ago, but 1'111 still kicking. And Inaybe you can get it ,lcross to Maggie that her daughter'S 111y prize wife." '~()f course, I've been a little worried about you myself. Mer all, I've got fifty (~~4i invested in you." I laughed into the receiver. "That's a lot of crap and you know it. \\Tho are you trying to ilnpress?" JefT's voice sounded genuinely hurt. "I'm quite alone."

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"You've never been alone in your life. l-lell, you were born with an