Authors: Sam Moffie,Vicki Contavespi
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Historical Fiction
Leo Gordon had taken another table with three chairs to the side of the stage but in front of the rows of chairs that the three men had set up, and beckoned the audience to come and sit. There was a hand-painted sign on the solitary table that read: Judges.
Ted de Corsia asked for everyone to quiet down so the night’s festivities could get started. He called on the Duke to inform everyone assembled what was going on tonight. Wayne stood up and graciously bowed to the entire room, rumbled up to the mini stage and stepped up on it.
“Thank you for coming. This is Ted’s, Leo’s and Bill’s idea — not mine. So if it bombs, we all know who to blame. However, I have to tell you all, I think it’s going to be a lot of fun. Certainly more fun than cleaning sand off our bodies and chasing things around the desert that the wind has caught. This might even be more fun than sand skiing — well, maybe not to the stunt men. Everyone in Hollywood is a producer of some sort — which means we all have to produce all the time no matter what our trade is. Tonight, Leo, Ted and Bill have accomplished that. Let me introduce Dick Powell, who is going to introduce the three-judge panel for the evening,” Wayne said as he stepped down and let Powell step up.
“We are going to have a lot of fun tonight. This has been the best cast and crew I have ever worked with on location and tonight’s idea just
sums that up. Without further ado let me introduce the judges… Susan Hayward, Agnes Moorehead and Sylvia Lewis.”
The three women walked in from a side entrance to whistles and applause. They sat at the table that was marked for them.
Susan Hayward was already known to all of them. She was the big female star who was as good looking in real life as she was on the set; and that was the only problem she had on the set — making sure she looked beautiful all the time. With all the wind and sand Hayward’s demands to look stunning all the time had driven the makeup and costume people crazy. But Mel Berns, Larry Germain and Web Overlander had been complete professionals and worked very hard to accommodate Susan. Only Powell and Komara knew how mad these three men were. Powell had made sure that big bonus checks were prepared for them. The three men had their own little secret war going against Hayward as pay-back for her demands on their skills. They refused to drink her famous raspberry lime rickeys — which to them was a tiny victory considering what a hit Hayward’s concoction had become.
Agnes Moorehead was playing the Duke’s mother in the movie. She was actually one of those rare actresses who could play an older woman — even though she wasn’t really old enough to be John Wayne’s mother in real life. Agnes was more of a radio personality, but had performed brilliantly in every role, whether in films, the stage or in radio. When Howard Hughes asked Dick Powell who he was going after to play the part of Hunlun (Khan’s mother), Powell didn’t hesitate to throw out Moorehead’s name.
“Why her?” Hughes asked.
“She played Charles Foster Kane’s mother in Citizen Kane, so that’s good enough for me,” Powell joked.
“You don’t think she will sneak Orson Welles up onto the set do you?” Hughes joked right back.
“Why boss, your sense of humor is showing… again.”
The third judge was one of the lesser-known women in the cast to the outside world at large — but not to the cast and crew of the movie, especially the male members.
Her name was Sylvia Lewis and every time Oscar and Dick saw her — they couldn’t believe that Howard Hughes hadn’t discovered her (at least to their knowledge).
“She makes his personal stewardesses look like old maids,” Oscar once told Dick when they were watching Sylvia go through her dancing exercises.
“You wrote her part real well,” remarked Powell.
“No, you cast her a lot better than I wrote her,” Millard said with a deep sigh.
“You should see her sand ski in that dancing costume,” Boyd Miller chipped in, as everyone was taking a break from filming one of the battle scenes.
“It’s amazing to me that we are on time with all the extracurricular activity that seems to be going on around here,” Powell said.
“Look boss,” Miller said. “All we guys dream about ‘extra-curricular’ activity with Sylvia.”
“You and millions of others, when that dance scene of hers hits the big screen,” Millard said.
And of course a woman as beautiful and talented as Sylvia Lewis knew that all the men were drooling over her knockout body — that’s why she sand skied in the skimpy costume. But she was also ambitious and knew that her image could be ruined with any wrong moves. And Sylvia Lewis was a woman who knew a lot about making the right moves.
And right now all eyes (at least the men’s) were on her moving to take a seat next to Susan and Agnes.
Van Cleef then spoke up about what the three judges were actually evaluating. “Anyone can play. All you have to do is climb up on that stage and do your best John Wayne imitation delivering a line from our movie,” Van Cleef announced.
All eyes moved to Wayne to see how he would respond.
And all eyes saw John Wayne laughing so hard he was out of breath.
“Looks like I have been out practical joked,” Wayne said to everyone as soon as he caught his breath. “Let the show go on and may the worst man win!”
It was Oscar Millard who was pissed. It was his script, which was written perfectly for Brando and now was not only being butchered by Wayne — but it was becoming a gag for what looked like a terrible skit for a TV variety show.
Powell was reading Millard’s mind and took him outside while people who wanted to participate in the folly practiced their lines and imitations.
“This is no reflection on you, Oscar,” Powell said. “Anyway, it’s too late and you have no right to bitch based upon what Howard has tried to do for you; not to mention your salary.”
Millard kicked at the sand.
“Great. Just what I need. More sand on my pants,” Powell said as he shook his pant legs free of the sand that Oscar had just kicked his way.
“I told you he would mangle all the lines,” Millard said tersely.
“He promised he worked on them with a voice coach,” Powell said, knowing Duke did say that, but never had any intention of doing so. “Quit bitching or Howard won’t give you a bonus,” Powell threatened.
“A bonus… for me,” Millard said; the tone of his voice really perked up.
“How about another visit from the stewardess and she will also have a checkie,” Powell said.
“What was I complaining about? I always knew that Duke would make it through this movie because he worked so hard with a voice coach and a tape recorder,” Millard said. “Shall we return?”
And Powell followed Millard back into the tent. Dick Powell never forgot where he came from. And there was nothing like the promise of more money to a writer in Hollywood to make that writer forget whatever was ailing him at that particular moment.
“Let’s get this show started!” Susan Hayward yelled out. “By the way, what does the winner get — me, Agnes or Sylvia?”
“All three!” Duke barked back, as everyone started laughing (and fantasizing) over that remark.
“A day off… with extra pay,” Powell said to cheers.
“Nothing for second or third?” Agnes Moorehead asked.
“Can the winner stay indoors, Mr. Powell?” a voice from the back yelled out to a lot of laughter from the people assembled.
“Second place gets nothing and neither does third. This is America!” Powell yelled (remembering what Hughes had told him).
“Who is going first?” Sylvia asked.
Everyone was surprised that second-unit director Ed Killy stood up. He was terrible and was followed by one crew member after another.
The three judges couldn’t even give any of the performers a score of one — but everyone laughed at their attempts and that was what the night’s festivities were all about anyway.
Until William Conrad boomed out in his loud voice that it was his turn.
“Okay Bill, let’s see what you can do,” Hayward said.
“Ladies, it’s time to separate the men from the boys,” Conrad announced with his big, booming voice as he ambled up to the stage imitating the Duke’s walk better than any of the previous contestants had. Even so, because he was short and very husky, his imitation of Wayne’s walk was still quite terrible and he was booed as he stepped onto the makeshift stage.
Being the consummate professional and a very fun guy to have around, Conrad shrugged off the catcalls and went into his Wayne imitation with a line from the movie.
“Yur beauteeeful in yur wrath,” he spoke out, and those previous boos turned into instantaneous applause and cheers. Of course the line as written by Oscar Millard was ‘you’re beautiful in your wrath.’ Conrad captured Duke well, and the reaction proved that.
Except for one person. Oscar Millard just sat there stone-faced, thinking about how beautifully Brando would have delivered that line. Now, not only was Wayne butchering his script — so was William Conrad… and to applause to boot!
Millard wasn’t the most influential of the crowd with the judges and neither was Dick Powell. It was the man himself — John Wayne — whose reaction was of overwhelming support for Conrad’s take on him playing Genghis. The Duke stood up from his chair and clapped very loudly. He then took a pitcher of Hayward’s concoction and walked up to the stage to share it with Conrad. When they finished drinking the pitcher, Wayne looked at the judges and yelled out “well?”
“A perfect ten,” Susan said.
“Almost a perfect ten — more like a nine point nine,” Agnes said.
“I have to give him an eight,” said Sylvia. “His walk was terrible and that cost him points with me.”
“Sylvia, you need to give me a lesson about leg movement,” Conrad said as he stepped down from the stage.
“Who’s next?” Moorehead yelled out to the crowd.
And Leo Gordon rose up.
Gordon, who was almost as large as John Wayne, was almost always cast as a bad guy in every role he had played since breaking into the motion picture business. And like most character actors, it came easy for him to play the bad guy, because in real life he was really a swell man.
“A pussycat,” Powell said about him when he hired him for the role.
“A big pussycat,” Millard added.
“The funny thing about always playing a bad guy is that when I meet a fellow character actor who is always the good guy — that person is usually an asshole in real life,” Gordon told fellow character actor Lee Van Cleef.
“That’s why I am typecast like you,” Van Cleef said.
“But we will always find work,” Gordon said.
“Amen, brother,” Van Cleef said.
Leo Gordon’s walk was almost like the Duke’s… almost. For that, he received some applause and cheers which he acknowledged with a salute as he stepped onto the makeshift stage.
“Leo, you should have worn your boots tighter,” Wayne yelled out. “You almost had it.”
“But he didn’t, now watch me!” Lee Van Cleef yelled out as he ambled up to the stage like a very old man doing the worst imitation of The Duke’s unique walk.
Van Cleef was booed unmercifully.
“That was terrible,” Gordon said
“Awful,” Wayne said.
Compared to the way Wayne is screwing up my script… it was perfect
, Millard thought.
“Lee I think that was your Walter Brennan walk,” Powell yelled out.
“I only hope he doesn’t talk like he walks,” Sylvia said.
“I agree with Sylvia,” Agnes said.
“It’s a threesome,” Hayward said and everyone laughed at that line.
“Settle down everyone. Let’s see if Lee can change the judges’ minds,” Wayne said.
Van Cleef drew in a deep breath with everyone thinking his verbal imitation would be just as bad as his physical one.
“Let us have… no more of this… I will… need… your wisdom… henceforth,” Van Cleef said as he came very close to nailing down the Duke’s hesitation-filled speaking pattern.
And the place went wild with cheers and applause for Van Cleef, who jumped off the stage and ran up and jumped into John Wayne’s arms.
“I’d rather have one of the judges,” Wayne said as he dropped Van Cleef onto the ground and walked over to the judges’ tables demanding to know who the winner was.
“I am consumed with want of him,” Hayward yelled as she repeated the line she hated the most in her part from the film and jumped up into Wayne’s arms just like Van Cleef had just done.
“I can’t have you without the other two beauties,” Wayne said as he motioned for Agnes and Sylvia to come over. Of course he tried to carry all three and almost came close to doing it. After failing at trying to hold onto all three women — they huddled up like a mini football team on offense to decide who the winner was.
“Everyone!” the four of them yelled out in unison, and the party went on until the early hours of the morning.