Beverly Hills Dead (7 page)

"Once: a five-pound, half-hour ride in an old Jenny at Biggin Hill, in Kent. I threw up, and then I was fine."

"If you have any problems with airsickness, there's a bag in the pocket by your knee."

"Nope, that was first-time nervousness," Vance said.

"I was five minutes into my first combat mission when I threw up into my lap. After that, I was fine."

"What were you flying, the Thunderbolt?"

"No, those didn't come along until '43. We flew the Grumman Wildcat. We were at Guadalcanal in August of '42, supporting the landings, when a big Japanese transport force turned up to reinforce the island. My squadron led the attack that sank the aircraft carrier
Ryujo
, but I took some anti-aircraft fire that punched a hole in my airplane and messed up my right knee. After that, it was hospital ships, then San Diego, then back to L.A., where Eddie Harris got me to the best knee man on the West Coast. I got a medical discharge in early '44."

"I guess I was lucky; I was too young for conscription," Vance said. "I tried to enlist when I was fifteen, but my mother heard about it and turned up at the recruiting office with my birth certificate and practically led me out by the ear. I've always felt guilty about not serving."

"Don't. Your conscience should be clear."

"I suppose so."

Vance began asking questions about the airplane, and they passed most of the trip talking about flying. Rick turned off the autopilot and let Vance fly the airplane for a few minutes, but then lunch was served, and he turned it back on.

Rick picked up the radio beacon at Jackson half an hour out and homed in on it. The weather was clear, and the windsock showed him the active runway. He made a smooth landing and taxied up to the terminal.

Manny White was waiting for them with a big Ford station wagon and a pickup truck for the luggage, driven by a Cooper Ranch cowboy. Rick made arrangements for hangaring and refueling, and twenty minutes later they were at the Cooper Ranch.

The Coopers--MacKenzie, known as Mac, and his wife, Eleanor, called Ellie--a weathered-looking pair of sixty or so, were warm and welcoming and showed them to their rooms. When everyone had had a chance to freshen up, Manny loaded them all into the station wagon and gave them a tour of the huge spread, pointing out locations as they went.

"You did good, Manny," Rick said halfway through. "It's perfect."

Eddie Harris, uncharacteristically, seemed speechless, awed by the towering Tetons and the gorgeous landscape.

They dined on home-grown roast beef at the ranch house that night, supplemented by bottles from a case of wine Eddie had brought. He was deep in conversation with the Coopers at his end of the table, while the other end carried on its own conversation.

After dinner, Mac Cooper led them into the rustic living room and showed Eddie and Rick a map of the area with the ranch boundaries marked. Manny had told them that the Coopers had lost two sons in the war, but except to express the visitors' condolences, nothing more was said about it. Cooper told them that during the war he had had something over 7,000 head of cattle on the place, selling exclusively to the military. He was down to something over 4,000 head now and was selling briskly to the civilian market.

They were at an elevation of around 6,500 feet, and the thin air made everyone tired. They were all in bed by nine o'clock.

Rick settled into a comfortable bed with Glenna.

"Sid Brooks's wife is worried," she said sleepily to Rick.

"What's Alice worried about?"

"The committee business," she said, then she turned over and fell asleep.

Rick was not far behind her.

12

Rick slept like a stone until after ten o'clock. To his surprise, Glenna was already out of bed. He showered and shaved, went downstairs for coffee and found everyone but Eddie on the front porch with their cups.

"Morning, all," he said, and everyone returned his greeting. "Is Eddie still in bed?" he asked Suzanne.

"No. He's deep in conversation with Mac Cooper, in his study," she replied.

Manny appeared and walked everyone around the immediate environs of the ranch house, showing them the bunkhouse, the mess hall, the barns and corrals and the place that was being prepared for the war-surplus barracks buildings.

"They're arriving on Tuesday," Manny said, "and they'll all be up by the end of next week."

After their tour they went to a corral and met the ranch foreman, Dick Torrey, who had a wrangler choose horses for them. The animals were saddled, then Torrey led them away from the ranch house for an hour's ride. They arrived at a low bluff on the Snake River, where the ranch's chuck wagon awaited them and served lunch while a wrangler picketed their horses.

They sat around a rough-hewn portable table on sawhorses and ate the good food.

"I think I'm going to enjoy shooting up here," Rick said, "and I'll be sorry to leave."

"You can visit as often as you like," Eddie said. "I bought the place this morning."

His wife's mouth dropped open. "You
what
?"

"Mac and Ellie Cooper expected their sons to carry on here, but that is not to be, so they've decided to retire and build a new, smaller house for themselves a couple of miles up the river on fifty acres they've kept."

Suzanne was having difficulty with this. "You bought a
ranch
?"

Eddie nodded. "This ranch, nearly sixteen thousand acres of it. It's a going concern, you know, and Dick Torrey is going to run it for me."

"But you are the most urban person I know," Suzanne said.

"I could get used to this," Eddie said, waving an arm. "In fact, I'm already used to it. I even like being on a horse."

"How much do you expect we'll use the place?"

"As often as we like," Eddie replied. "After all, we have an airplane; let's use it."

"Congratulations, Eddie," Rick said.

"You'll all be welcome any time."

"When do you close on the place?"

"Well, I've got to find legal and accounting representation in the state, then incorporate. I expect it will be about three months. The Coopers will stay on in the big house until their new one is finished. Suzanne and I probably won't see the place again until next summer."

"It ought to be a great investment," Vance said.

Eddie grinned, "I think so, too. Not to mention the fun Suzanne will have decorating it."

"I've got to start making lists," Suzanne said.

That night after dinner the four men made themselves comfortable in Mac Cooper's study.

"Eddie, Rick," Sid Brooks said, "we had a meeting a couple of nights ago."

"What sort of meeting?" Eddie asked.

"A strategy meeting. There were two lawyers from New York there, and we hired two West Coast attorneys. We're going to make this a First Amendment issue. The idea is, if we have freedom of speech, we have the right not to speak, and if we have the right to choose our politics, we have the right not to talk about it."

"I'm a lawyer," Eddie said, "and I think that's a novel approach."

"You sound disapproving," Sid said.

"If I were your lawyer, I'd advise you to take the Fifth, rather than depend on an untested legal strategy."

"When you take the Fifth, everybody thinks you're guilty of something, and we're not guilty of anything. Anyway, we have a liberal Supreme Court right now, and if we lose in the hearings, we can appeal with the hope of success."

"There are what, nineteen of you?"

"Forty-one were subpoenaed; nineteen of us are going to be unfriendly witnesses, as they've begun to call us. There's also a group being formed called the Committee for the First Amendment, people who aren't politically suspect, who are going to send a delegation to the hearings to morally support us."

"I know," Eddie said. "I'm a member, and I'll be there."

"I'd like to go, too," Rick said.

"You're going to be shooting a movie right here," Eddie pointed out, "and anyway, I'm the public face of the studio, since Sol Weinman died. You leave this to me."

"As you wish," Rick said, but he was disappointed.

"Eddie's right, Rick," Sid said. "You're better off keeping your head down; this could get messy. And I want to thank both of you for paying for my script up front. That gives me a financial cushion, and I may need it."

"The least we could do," Eddie said.

"I'm grateful for the trip up here," Sid said. "Alice has been worried sick about all this, and, I have to admit, I have been, too. It's good to get away from L.A. for a few days and breathe some fresh air without the press all over us. I haven't been this relaxed for weeks."

"Our pleasure," Eddie replied.

Vance, who had said nothing until now, spoke up. "I guess I'm going to have to read the U.S. Constitution," he said, "if I'm going to understand any of this."

13

They landed at Santa Monica on Monday evening, their return flight longer than the trip out, because of the westerly winds. Everybody piled out of the airplane, and the linemen got their luggage unloaded and into the trunks of their respective cars.

On the way home, Rick felt very satisfied with their weekend. "We got a lot done," he said to Glenna.

"You sure did, but nothing compared to Eddie."

Rick laughed. "That was a surprise; I didn't have a clue. I just knew he and Mac Cooper were spending a lot of time together."

"When will you go back to start shooting?"

"A couple of weeks. Everything will be in place by then, and we'll be trucking up equipment and crew in advance of that."

"What do you want me to do while you're gone?"

Rick looked at her, surprised. "Why, I want you and the girls to come with me. Didn't you know?"

"Well, you didn't mention it until now."

"I'm sorry. I just assumed you'd think the same way. I think we'd enjoy the time together up there."

"You're going to be busy as hell, and I'm going to be spending a lot of time with Ellie Cooper, quilting or something."

"Would you rather not go?"

"No, I want to go, but I want to be able to bail out if I get...whatever the reverse of cabin fever is."

"Sure, you can go home any time you like." He had a thought. "Listen, all your experience is in front of the camera; how'd you like to spend some time behind it?"

"What do you mean?"

"How would you like to be an associate producer?"

She thought about that. "You mean, order people around?"

"No, I mean we'd carve out some responsibility for you, and you'd be in charge, reporting to the producer."

"And that would be you?"

"No, that would be Leo Goldman. He's a bright new guy who's seriously on the make, and I think you'll like him."

"And if I don't like his decisions, can I appeal to you?"

"No. Leo would probably fire you."

"I'll have to think about that," she said.

Vance Calder went back to his rooming house, cleaned out the last of his belongings and put them into the '38 Ford convertible; he had already sold the Whizzer to the guy across the hall for sixty dollars. He gave his landlady a check, then drove to Centurion Studios, to his cottage/dressing room.

The place had a living room with a foldout sofa, dressing room, bath and kitchenette. It was snug, but it was a lot more room than he was accustomed to.

He put away the last of his things: three pairs of Levis, some work shirts, boots and underwear, and his one suit, two good shirts and one pair of good shoes. It wasn't much of a wardrobe, but when he left New York he was so broke he couldn't even afford a bus ticket. He took a commuter bus to a New Jersey station, then hitchhiked all the way across the country, carrying one suitcase and a backpack, along with a rolled-up sleeping bag. It took him twelve days, and he slept in barns, the backs of rolling trucks and in the woods. Along the way he gained a real appreciation of the size, diversity and wealth of this amazing country.

A short time ago he had been making two dollars an hour as an equipment operator. Now, all of a sudden, he had a place of his own, a car and a little over four thousand dollars; also an agent, a lawyer, a three-picture contract and, if he worked hard and played his cards right, a career. He sat down and wrote his parents a long letter, detailing everything that had happened to him over the past weeks and giving them the studio as a mailing address.

He unpacked half a bottle of good Scotch, poured himself a drink and got back into the Ford, taking the bottle with him. Slowly, he drove around the studio, taking it all in. He drove down the set streets: the New York brownstones, the downtown business street, the small-town set, with its village square and pond and, on the back lot, the western street. The studio police never stopped him because they knew the car.

On his way back to his cottage he noticed lights on in the motor pool, and he turned in and stopped. Hiram, who ran the place, slid out from under an elderly Rolls Royce and looked at him.