The Richard Jackson Saga

Book 9: Cold War

By Ed Nelson

 

 

 

Dedication

 

 

 

This is dedicated to my wife Carol for her support and help as my first reader and editor.

 

 

Thanks to my Editors, Ernest Bywater, Lonelydad57, and Old Rotorhead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Also, the Bellefontaine High School Class of 1962 just because.

 

 

Quotation

 

 

“That’s the way it happened, give or take a lie or two.”

 

 

 

 

James Garner as Wyatt Earp describing the gunfight at the OK Corral in the movie Sunset.

 

Copyright © 2019

 

E. E. Nelson

All rights reserved

 

Eastern Shore Publishing

7545 Lovey Lane

Parsonsburg, MD 21849

 

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

 

The Richard Jackson Saga

Dedication

Quotation

Copyright © 2019

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 1

On the last several flights I had been introspective. Not this one, I didn’t have the time or the inclination. The flight started out well… at least until I got to my seat. There was a young lady with a baby, sitting in the window seat. The baby was obviously in discomfort from the way it cried. Some baby cries mean they are hungry or need a diaper change.

This cry said I’m sick Mummy, make me better!

Mother was rocking the baby which was about two months old. It wasn’t working. She then opened the diaper bag to get something out. Her bag was a huge model and she was having trouble opening it while holding the baby. In a moment of insanity, I offered to hold the child.

Big mistake! The hand over wasn’t even complete and the baby threw up all down the front of my suit, tie, and shirt. I have no idea how such a small kid could hold so much puke.

This got the attention of the flight attendant who brought me a wet towel. This entire time people were boarding the aircraft and squeezing past. I didn’t mind the dirty looks, as I think they were deserved. I did mind the smell. The plane had been sitting in the sun on this warm day.

They hadn’t turned on the air in the plane yet so it was very warm inside. The smell got worse and worse. Now, I only had a kit bag with me as I had clothes waiting at the other end, so I had no replacement shirt or tee-shirt.

After handing the baby back to a mortified mother I made a trip to the loo. There I removed my shirt and tee-shirt and washed up, after that, I brushed my suit jacket off. Fortunately, the puke hadn’t penetrated that deep into the fabric so most of it brushed off.

Coming out of the loo, I had my suit coat buttoned up so I only looked semi-weird. I gave the shirts and tie to the stewardess to put in their trash. There was no way I was going to haul them around with me.

The tie was no great loss; as it had the Life Guard regimental stripe. I was with the RAF, so I thought it a fitting end.

Mummy was now breastfeeding baby, who of course was hungry now that nasty stuff was out of her tummy. I sat back down and closed my eyes and wished the flight was over. I was able to sleep for most of the trip or read a light novel.

Mummy apologized over and over. I finally told her all was forgiven and kindly please leave me alone. She told me she would be glad to but had a delicate question for me. I nodded my head to get her to go ahead.

“Would you hold my baby so I can go to the water closet?”

Shoot me, shoot me now.

“Of course I would.”

The baby who was asleep at this time didn’t wake until Mummy closed the door of the loo. Then he woke up and must have realized I wasn’t Mummy. She let loose with a screaming fit.

Mummy’s trip to the loo was more than a quick pee. I ended up walking baby up and down the aisle of the airplane for over ten minutes. The cowardly stewardesses were not to be found. How does one hide in a long aluminum tube?

I just thought I was getting dirty looks at boarding. People were trying to sleep and the one thing we didn’t have to worry about was the baby’s lungs. Someone must have recognized me because they pulled out a flash camera and took a picture.

Just go ahead and shoot me.

Finally Mum got back and the baby settled down for the rest of the flight.

Thankfully the rest of the flight was uneventful. The cowardly stewardess, Abigail, finally showed up after I managed to clean myself as much as possible to offer me a drink.

The young mother, whose name was Emily May apologized once more. On an impulse, I autographed a photo to her and son Mark.

“For a flight, I will never forget.”

A car and driver were waiting for me at LAX. I think the traffic was getting worse day by day in LA. The smog made it impossible to see the mountains. What had been a paradise was now becoming a hell hole. The trip seemed like it took forever so I was glad to get home.

At the guardhouse was a large sign stating, “Welcome home Sir Richard winner of the 1960 US Open.” That was nice, what was even better was my whole family was waiting in the courtyard to welcome me. The driver must have called ahead. The car had one of those new telephones that could call from the car. It was set up in the front and with the window closed; I didn’t know he had used it.

I got out to hugs, kisses, and handshakes. You can figure out who did what.

I was overwhelmed and had to wipe a tear out of my eye: maybe there was more than one.

Until I got home I hadn’t realized how much I had missed my family.

Mum was the first to notice my dress or lack of a shirt.

“There must be a story here.”

I gave a quick explanation of what had happened. The boys thought it was neat that a baby could eat so much and throw it up. Mark May would grow up to be a strong kid.

We went into the house where I took a quick shower and changed into California casual. England was seldom warm enough to wear a golf shirt.

My siblings had wandered off to whatever they had been doing as Mum and Dad and I sat down for a conversation in the Library. Rather than face an interrogation I gave them a synopsis of my time since winning the golf tournament.

They had questions about being dubbed a knight and my rescuing Miss Bardot. Dad thought it was good that I had saved the Mona Lisa from damage even though he never understood the big deal made over the painting. She was only a woman and they were all mysteries.

I started to open my mouth to object that she demonstrated the quintessential mystery of women when I saw him start to grin. He had got me. It was good to be home.

“Rick one more thing; we didn’t have time to celebrate your golfing victory as you had to leave right away. We are holding a party in your honor this Saturday.”

“How big of a party is it?”

“Big, all the people involved in your journey to victory, a select group from Hollywood, business leaders you have dealt with, and some old friends.”

“I guess I have to cancel my date then.”

“You have a date Saturday night, with whom?”

It was my turn to grin.

“It’s nice to have you home, Rick.”

Dad told me, “Rick you may not have heard but, ‘Over the Ohio’, is being released the week after so you will need a date for the premiere or let the studio send a starlet they wish to publicize.”

“I will try to get a date since every starlet I meet is too desperate to make fame and fortune and I seem like an easy route for them.”

Who can I ask? As it is relatively short notice to obtain a dress and everything that goes with it.

Mum asked me, “Rick if you don’t have anyone in mind could you take Mary? She is in the movie and wants to go. Your Dad was going to be her escort but it would work out better for both of you to go together. That takes the burden off you and Dad.”

I looked at Dad who mouthed, “Please.”

I guess Dad didn’t want to walk on the red carpet. I don’t blame him, as all the noise and shouted questions are bothersome.

Mum followed up with, “Please ask Mary, we haven’t told her yet that she could go.”

Okay, I will do it right away. Where is she anyway?

“She is up on the tower with several friends. They had a sleepover and it is still going on. I’m afraid that they may never go home.”

I took the elevator up, thinking as it went about the last time I had come up here and discovered Mary and her five-year-old friends sunbathing topless. What a mess.

At the top, the warning sign wasn’t out but I yelled anyway, asking if it was safe for me to come on up the last set of stairs. Not many things frightened me but little girls were high on my list.

“Come on up Ricky,” my little sister yelled.

Mary and her friends were all dressed in shorts and tee-shirts so my fears weren’t realized. Still, I will always check first.

“Mary, are you planning to go to the premiere, of ‘Over the Ohio’?”

“I haven’t asked yet, because it will be past my bedtime before it is over. I would like to go, and I’m hoping Daddy will be my escort.”

“Mary, I have a problem, I don’t have a date and it is too late for me to ask a girl who would have to find a dress and everything. Even if I paid for it she wouldn’t have the time to get ready.”

“That’s right, Ricky, that is poor planning on your part.”

“Would you go with me?”

“So, I’m chopped liver? You are concerned about other girls having enough time but think I can be ready at a moment’s notice?”

The other little girls were watching us avidly. Their heads moved back and forth like a tennis match. For them, it was either a sport or a learning experience.

“What were you going to do if Daddy said he would take you?”

“Uh, I would, uh, okay you got me, I would wear a dress and its accouterments from my new fall collection. I’m still not allowed to wear makeup but I would have to have my hair done.”

Where did my little six-year-old sister learn a word like accouterments?

“Well, would you go with me if I asked Mum and Dad for permission?”

“Yes I would, it will be good for my image to be seen with a hunk like you.”

Who is this monster?

“I will check, but I think it will be okay with them.”

“Okay, I’m counting on you, now I have to call my clothing people to get what I want to be shipped immediately.”

“I thought they were sending you one of everything in every color?”

“They were but the collection has expanded so much I would need several of our basements to store them.”

I gave her a stern look, has she given up the secret of our sub-basement?

“I tried to get Daddy to dig down for more room but he wouldn’t do it. Then I asked if I could have your workshop space since you are never here. They told me no since you paid for it. Would you sell it to me?”

“Squirt that addition cost almost ten thousand dollars.”

“I will pay you fifteen.”

Some battles you can’t win; some should never be fought in the first place.

“I will think about it. What are you doing with all the clothes as you grow out of them?”

“I have an arrangement with the Salvation Army. It gives me a decent tax deduction and favorable publicity. Susan Wallace helped me set it up.”

Other battles you just run like hell from the field. I told the other girls it was nice to see them and retreated from the tower.

When I related my conversation with Mary to Mum and Dad they both had a chuckle.

“We have to keep a tight rein on her, Rick; she is growing up too fast. There is nothing bad, just out of balance with other children her age. We are scared to death she may end up like other child stars.”

“On the brighter side, of course, she can go with you to the premiere. Just make sure you protect her from the press and the paparazzi.”

“I think they would need protection from her.”

“Well there is that, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes, Mum.”

Thinking of clothes, I checked on my closet to make certain I had a tux here to wear to the opening. I had shipped so much back and forth across the Atlantic I couldn’t remember what was where. It was a good thing I did check because apparently, my tuxedo was in England.

It was still early enough I was able to call The Meadows and ask Mr. Hamilton to ship it to me by air. He wondered if I should just rent one here or have another made. That took me aback for a moment, it had never occurred to me. I told him don’t bother to ship one; I would have a new one made up. It sure is nice to have money.

Not wanting to leave it to chance I called a tailor on Rodeo Drive, who had been there forever. His shop was next to a hair salon I had bought gift certificates for my office ladies last Christmas so I knew exactly how to get there. I would visit them first thing in the morning.

I got up on British time on Wednesday. It was barely daylight. It was a pleasure to take my run on the soft paths of the nature reserve. After my exercise’s I had a hearty breakfast and was good for the day.

I did stop for a few words with Ben at the stable and fed an apple to George.

I then headed out to the tailor. Mum actually let me borrow her Morgan. I must be in good standing! It was fun driving the Morgan in and out of traffic as fast as I could. If I had got a ticket it wouldn’t have been so much fun, not so much from the fine but from Mum.

As I got out of the car I heard a loud “Stop thief!”

There was a full-grown man running down the sidewalk with a purse in his hands. He was looking back. Further away a young lady was the one yelling. It didn’t take rocket science to figure out he was a purse snatcher.

I was in a perfect position. I just held my arm out and let him clothesline himself.

He hit hard and went down. It took no effort on my part, other than that I would have a sore arm tomorrow. I leaned down and rolled him onto his stomach and then knelt on his back. It was right in front of the tailor shop so the tailor came to his door to see what all the commotion was about.

I asked him to call the Police and after that, I would like to be measured for a new tuxedo. The young lady ran up and grabbed her purse. She thanked me for saving it for her.

She let out all at once that she had just arrived in town to try to break into the movies and all of her life savings were in her purse and I was her hero and she didn’t know what she would have done if I hadn’t stopped the bandit. This all came out without a breath. From the way she could yell, I think she had a future of some sort.

The Police didn’t take long to arrive and cuff the man after a quick explanation. They separated all the witnesses and took our stories. The event was so simple that all of us told of the same basic story. He grabbed her purse and ran. I stuck my arm out and brought him down then sat on him until the Police arrived. Pretty cut and dried.

The aspiring actress Lily Tomlin, who appeared to be in her early twenties, thanked me and left.

She never asked my name so I avoided the dreaded, “Could you introduce me?”

I’m certain that she would be found and find a place out here. If nothing else the snort she gave when she laughed would make her stand out.

Since this was Hollywood, people with cameras came out of the woodwork. At least there were no reporters wanting an interview.

After that, it took an hour to get my measurements taken and a new tuxedo promised by next Tuesday, in plenty of time for the premiere. He would provide everything including shoes.

By that time the adrenaline high dropped and I needed sugar. Welcome back to America, Rick!

 

Chapter 2

After leaving the tailor I stopped by my office to see how things were going. Without going into detail Jim let me know everything was in order and the money was still pouring in. We did set up a formal business review for next Wednesday. He would contact everyone that needed to be there.

I did pay for the visit as I was roped into signing cards for employees and friends. There were several news clippings of special events held or won by people I knew. I took the time and wrote a short note of congratulations to each of them.

What I thought would be a short visit took until quitting time. I left with a sore hand from all the writing. It was well worth it because all of those people had earned recognition for their efforts.

One of them was really neat. A girl Mary’s age had formed a fan club for Mary. The club had a sale where they sold all of their outgrown clothes from the Mary Collection. They then used the money to feed puppies and kittens in the local pound.

I had to show this to Mary because she needed to give them some recognition.

That was the first thing I did when I got home. Mary knew nothing about her fan club and their actions. She agreed that she needed to do something. I suggested she talk to Mum and Susan Wallace about this and also find out if she had other fan clubs.

If nothing else she should have a clipping service. The only reason I received this was that she was identified as the sister of actor Ricky Jackson. She left at a run as was usual for her to find Mum and to get something started. Oh, to have the energy of a six-year-old. I know, I know, I’m only seventeen, but you should see her go.

I spent the rest of the afternoon doing precisely nothing of any value. It was great. Well, I did push the elevator button to the tower. Does that count? Until I stopped I didn’t realize how hectic my life had gotten since I started at Oxford.

I didn’t even read before falling asleep.

Thursday morning I was up early and felt refreshed. I did my run, and exercises and then on an impulse took George out for a ride. He apparently hadn’t got out much lately, as he was frisky. Not in a bad way, he just wanted to get out and move so I let him.

We rode to the Forest Service airbase over the new bridge. The back gate was unlocked so I had no problem getting on base. The last time I was here I was stopped and had to identify myself. I was at ease when a jeep came roaring up to me and came to a sliding stop.

A man in a uniform unfamiliar to me told me, “Get off that horse and get your hands in the air or I will shoot.”

Since he had pulled a thirty-eight revolver out and was holding it FBI style with his finger on the trigger I did so without argument.

“Now turn around and get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head.”

This guy is crazy! Crazy or not, he had the weapon, not me.

I followed his instructions slowly. Apparently, this wasn’t fast enough for him as he came up to force me down. This was a mistake on his part because my unarmed combat training covered this possibility.

When his left hand touched my shoulder I turned and ducked to my left. By natural inclination, he followed me in turning left. This also brought his right arm off so the gun wasn’t pointing at me.

I then used the momentum to force both of us to the ground with me on top. I then rolled him onto his stomach and used the handcuffs on his belt on him.

After retrieving his pistol and removing the shells I had him stand up and get in his jeep. Since there was a coil of rope in the back I used that to tie him in place. Then it was a simple matter of tying George’s reins to the rear bumper and driving slowly to the Forest Service Headquarter building.

I will not repeat any of the language used during the short trip.

When I arrived at the building a couple of Forest Rangers in uniform took one look and started laughing. I wasn’t sure what was funny but it seemed to make their day.

“Does this guy belong to you?”

“Not really, he is a rent a cop hired to patrol the grounds. There have been some teenagers sneaking in at night. I think they sent him here because he is such an idiot they didn’t know where else to send him. He had been giving all of us grief, but we weren’t allowed to do anything.”

“What do you want me to do with him? No matter what, he doesn’t get his gun back.”

This set the guy off again.

As was my practice I had saddlebags on George. I opened them and pulled out my U.S. Marshal’s ID and showed it to them.

“Now, who is in charge here?”

The Forest Service people took me inside, leaving the so-called cop tied up. The Chief Ranger, or whatever his title was, recognized me from previous trips. When I explained what happened he just shook his head.

“I knew something like this would happen. I tried to get rid of him but he is related to some Congressman and we can’t touch him.”

“Please tell the people who you report to that I don’t want him within ten miles of my family.”

I then laid the pistol on the desk sans bullets. The guy would probably get the pistol back but not while I was around.

“The Congressman won’t like that.”

“Tell the Congressman who I am and what I have donated here. If he has any questions please have him call me.”

That proved to be a mistake as I didn’t understand how shameless some Congressmen could be. He called and tried to get me to donate to his campaign. Not only did I turn him down. I made a point of making a donation to his opponent.

It didn’t help as the Congressman got reelected by a large margin. Maybe when I’m old enough I will run against him.

Returning home after that interesting look at how it pays to be related to a politician, I spent time brushing down George. I had to do something to calm down a little.

After that, I cleaned up and drove over to the studio to see what was going on. Mr. Monroe wasn’t in. I stopped at the schoolhouse but a class was in session. All the stuntmen were busy working. I watched them setting up for a jump from a three-story building but it was really tedious work as this had been done many times.

I was so desperate that I checked in to see if there was any need for extras. There weren’t, at least none my description. If I had been short and fat I could have two different jobs.

I did have lunch at the commissary. The usual mélange of costumes was present. I won’t say it was boring but it didn’t leave me feeling excited as it did at one time. I was jaded at seventeen!

After lunch, I drove down to the beach but it wasn’t a good day to surf. I thought about renting a plane and flying but it was too late in the day. I was so bored I even thought about going down to Disneyland but quickly set that thought aside.

I then drove out to the Riviera Country Club and hit a few buckets of balls at the driving range. At least I was able to get into a zone with my practice. I did have to sign autographs, but at least people didn’t interrupt me on the tee box.

Returning home I ran into Mum in the kitchen. The kitchen is where the cookies hang out, you know. She asked what I had been doing all day. I related how nothing seemed to work out other than finding out that nepotism is not a good thing. I sort of knew that, but that guy at the Forest Service base really brought it home.

“Rick, some relatives can do a good job. It goes bad when a worthless person is given the job. There is a difference you know. Your Dad had you work on houses in Bellefontaine and that was a form of nepotism, so you have to be careful how you think of it.”

“I guess you are right, but that guy was a loser, and thinking of him being armed is scary.”

“There are always people like that; it is the way of the world. Just be careful that you don’t put someone in a position they are unsuited for.”

After those words of wisdom, I put myself in a position that I wasn’t suited for, promptly losing six games of eight ball to Denny. At least it was fun.

He updated me on his work at the photography studio. It was going very well. He appeared to have a lock on the local market for beauty pageant portfolios. He had even picked up some work with aspiring actors and actresses.

Sam Nielsen was even talking about opening another studio in Santa Anna and Denny could make appointments there. He and I played around with that thought for a while. We wondered if it would be profitable to start a chain of franchises studios.

That would appear under his name as the photographer of the stars. We decided that he didn’t have enough name recognition yet. If one of his actors or actresses made it in the movies he would have something to work with.

I asked to see the pictures that he had taken so far. He had copies in an album. Most of them were average. There was one young lady who stood out. Her name was Goldie Hawn. We just couldn’t figure out how to help her get a breakthrough.

I thought about using my influence at the studio but decided against it as I knew nothing about her. She would probably end up as one of those who would tell her grandchildren that she could have been a star if she had gotten a break. That is sad, but that is how most of the aspiring actors and actresses turned out. How lucky I had been!

We promptly forgot about the proposed project and went to dinner.

At dinner, Mary was excited about the upcoming movie showing and that is all she could talk about. It was all so exciting. Mum was even going to let her use fingernail polish for the first time. She tried for lipstick but got nowhere with that one.

She even was going to have her hair done. The studio was sending a stylist over to do her hair just before we left. Her best girlfriends were coming over to watch her get ready. I asked if Patty would be one of them, but they were on the outs again.

More immediate to me was getting information on the party they were holding in my honor on Saturday. At least I could get away with a polo shirt and sport coat for the event.

We have had so many large catered events at Jackson House that it was getting to be old hat to us. On the average Mum and Dad sponsors a charity event every month. That meant that catering, parking, and extra staff were all on Mum’s Rolodex.

It was going to be less than formal as the weather promised to be good, so it was going to be hamburgers and hot dogs rather than a rubber chicken meal. That sounded good to me. Mum was even trying out a new group with a portable pizza oven and they would make them onsite.

I was most interested in the plans for dessert. There would be an ice cream bar where you could fix your own Sundae. This was my kind of party. There would be an open bar for a limited time. That didn’t interest me. She also had a band lined up, The Beach Boys.

They agreed to play for a reduced fee, but they had a condition. I had to sing ‘Rock and Roll Cowboy’ with them. I’m going to kill Brian.

 

Chapter 3

I stayed out of the caterer’s way on Saturday morning as they arrived to set up. The affair was going to be in the field behind the garages. They set up large tents. The largest would have a stage and dance floor.

There were several food service tents with barbeque setups. A whole hog had been roasting overnight in a fire pit. There would be hamburgers, hot dogs, barbequed beef, and hog. Then chickens by the dozen. All the help was dressed in western style. There were children’s rides and games.

A miniature golf course had been erected. There was also a driving range set up on the other side of the fence in the park. Buckets of balls and clubs were available from an attendant. I wondered if the Park people were aware of what we were going to be doing.

I asked Dad and he told me they had received permission after posting a bond that the woods would be cleared tomorrow. Somehow I doubted it would really be cleared, as I had seen how some of the golfers hit the ball. Maybe that was why the head of the park commission had been invited.

After seeing all this activity I decided it would be a good day to go to the beach. That was the plan, anyway. I ended up being a runner for Mum. It seems everybody thought someone else was bringing the, well, you name it. I didn’t know how many items were needed for an event like this.

I even had to help put up the signs congratulating me on my winning the US Open. That felt a little weird. Especially since the guys, I was helping didn’t recognize me. They talked about how I must be a snobbish big shot. I asked them if they had ever seen Rick Jackson before. Neither of them had. It was a beautiful and embarrassing moment for them when I introduced myself.

They both stumbled over themselves apologizing. I laughed it off and told them they now had a story for their girlfriends and grandchildren. That eased the moment and we finished up the large signs and then helped others erect tents, haul ice and drinks for the coolers, and worked our butts off.

As things came together and our general labor was finished I asked them how much they were being paid for the day. Since they were from a pickup labor agency it wasn’t much so I gave them a healthy tip. They gave more thanks and much laughter about how things had started.

After that I boldly left the area, well it was more like slunk out of Mum’s sight so I could shower and get dressed for the afternoon festivities. I had been told that I would have to make a short speech and yes, I would sing, ‘Rock and Roll Cowboy’.

As I got dressed I rehearsed a short speech, thanking everyone for coming, all those who had helped my golf career, the American way of life, and apple pie.

I decided since it was a Western theme I would go all the way and wore my total Sir Nicklaus on a cattle drive outfit. This included a Stetson, and my six-shooters. I double checked they weren’t loaded but had live rounds in the belt loops. I remember our last big party and a machine gun.

I’m glad to say nothing negative happened at the party if you didn’t count a shanked drive hitting a deer who was passing through. I didn’t see it, but I guess the deer really jumped and took off.

I managed to get through both speech and song without embarrassing myself or my parents. I was fortunate that I was upstaged while singing. Mary and her friends got up on the stage and jitterbugged. They were good and it took the attention off me.

Mum wasn’t thrilled when Brian asked if Mary could tour with them.

I think he was kidding.

I spent most of my afternoon shaking hands and accepting congratulations. They even had a photo setup for me to pose with people. For this, I had to hurry to change into golfing attire. My face started to ache from smiling. I don’t know how models can do that day after day.

That and sign autographs. There were pictures available for me to sign. It was of me accepting the US Open trophy.

There were a couple of guys there from the PGA tour. They tried talking me into turning pro. They thought my public face would help attract people to the game. Also, think about the money I could make. With the right sponsor’s I might make half a million dollars a year!

I let them down gently, saying nothing about a cut in pay. I told them my education was the most important thing on my mind right now. They were gentlemen about it, but I knew this wasn’t the end of things.

I did get to see and talk a little with my friends in the movie industry. The whole stuntman contingent had shown up. I doubt the free drinks had anything to do with it.

Mr. Monroe wanted to know if I would relent on making another movie in the near future. I told him no, which he thought was a shame because the soon to be released, ‘Over the Ohio’, would make me a big name at the box office. At least he knew that for me it wasn’t the money.

I asked how Nina was doing. He told me she was becoming like the European crowd she hung out with and he wasn’t happy about her new attitude. He requested that if I was in Switzerland I would talk to her and see if it was getting as bad as he thought.

I told him I would, but that I had no plans to be there in the near future. Mentally I made a note to fly over after getting back to England.

Putting up a large party takes a long time. Breaking it down isn’t as much. Within two hours of the last guest leaving all the equipment was cleared and tents down. The area was raked clean.

The only thing left was golf ball retrieval. Eddie’s scout troop would be doing that the next morning. During the course of the day, there had been various contests, largest and longest hook or slice, and weirdest shank.

When these occurred they marked them with stakes. There also was a cone established for hooks and slices. This was done by two pairs of stakes with a ten-foot rope between then. One stake was never moved. The other stake on each side of the range was spread out as a new “record” was established. This made a cone that would be gone over by the scouts.

It was around nine o’clock when things had settled down. Mum, Dad, and I were having coffee in the library.

Mum asked, “Rick do you have any plans for the coming week?”

“Nothing that couldn’t be changed, do you have anything in mind?”

“Not really.”

“I was thinking of going to Bellefontaine for a couple of days. I would like to catch up with everything that has gone on in the last year.”

“Just remember you have a movie opening this Saturday.”

“I would fly out on Monday and back on Thursday so that should work out.”

“It will, but remember Susan Wallace will probably need you for interviews Saturday morning and definitely on Sunday after the showing.”

Dad then reminded me that I had to have a full business review before returning to England.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Michaelmas the next term doesn’t start until September 28. I would like to return mid-August to do some sightseeing around Europe.”

“Then how about I set up a Board Meeting and business review for two weeks from now. “

“That would work Dad, thanks for taking care of this. I know I technically own these businesses but have no illusion that I’m running them.”

“We’ve had this conversation before. It is the rare founder that can scale up with the growing business. Most fail when they try to do things they aren’t capable of.”

“I know Dad but it seems weird that I’m getting all this money when others are doing all the work.”

“But you had the idea and the drive to turn it into reality. Besides if you were running it, it would consume all your time, do you want that?”

I replied, “Not at all.”

Mum then butted in, “Rick, take the money and quit whinging.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” was the only thing I could say.

That ended the discussion. I still felt like I was getting one heck of a deal out of it and that I had better take care of all my people.

Sunday was a day of rest for the Jackson family. We all slept in late, I made it until 6:00. A good run and workout set me up for a leisurely day. I did watch the Scouts collect golf balls for a while.

I could only stand that for a while. A bunch of twelve-year-olds in the woods can do some strange stuff. Was I like that? Thinking back, I was probably worse. At least none of them were trying to cook an egg up in a tree.

I chatted a bit with the Scout Master but from the conversation, I knew that my active Scouting days were over. He tried to get me to sign up as an Assistant Scout Master when I turned eighteen. It would only take a few hours a month. I’ve heard that song before.

After that, I drove down to the beach for a long walk in the surf. It was a mindless exercise and I thought I needed it. I had been living at a fast and furious pace for a long time now. Hmm, fast and furious. That had a good ring to it. It would be a good title for a song or movie.

On Monday I called and had reservations made to fly to Dayton, Ohio on Tuesday morning. I also had to line up a car and driver since I was too young to rent a car. Well, I called Susan Wallace who took care of these things for me. She would call our travel agent. I confirmed my availability for interviews on Saturday and Sunday.

I packed light for the trip as there were no events, just a visit.

On Tuesday our driver dropped me off at LAX where I was escorted to the Ambassador Club. A cup of coffee later I was taken by a back hallway to the plane. I mentioned to my escort that this service seemed over the top, that I wasn’t that famous.

“We have found that any famous person will attract attention. People will want autographs and slow things down.”

“That is nice that you are thinking of us.”

“We aren’t, really. We have had too many flight delays because of that.”

That put me in my place. It also made me feel better for some odd reason.

The flight to St. Louis and then on to Dayton was uneventful. I signed a few autographs on the flight but it had become routine for me. As usual, I tried to be nice to everyone as they were paying to see my movies.

One person asked me to sign a scandal sheet. It was the one with inquiring minds. There was a picture of me holding a baby on the front page. It was titled, Ricky’s love child?

I wrote, “No,” and signed it. From the look of the baby Mark May, he was going to be a big guy. If his Dad was like that I hope he didn’t hunt me up.

We landed in Dayton on time and my car and driver were waiting as planned. We drove up to Bellefontaine. He took the new section of I-75 and then route 33 into Bellefontaine. It was a little longer but much nicer road then going through Springfield and Urbana.

Since it was after dark as the time zones were working against me, we checked into our rooms at the Fountain Lodge. My room was neat and clean, but basically a little block. When I thought of my rooms at the Plaza in London I had a hint of how much my life had changed.

Wednesday morning I had the driver take me out to the roadside area near the airbase and let me out for my run. I was getting to be such a wimp. I didn’t want to run up the hill on Sandusky Street.

After that, I cleaned up. Since school wasn’t in session I took a walk downtown. The stores were all the same. Looking in the windows the fashions looked a little dated. The stores themselves were in need of a good up-dating. They were shabby around the edges.

I ran into a few people I recognized and they said hello but there were none of my classmates around. Most of them probably had summer jobs.

I knew where some of the kids would be and had the driver take me up to the swimming pool on Summit Drive. The only person I recognized was Tom Humphries, who was working as a lifeguard. I didn’t feel like talking to him, so I had the driver take me out to the Country Club.

There I talked to the Pro, who wanted to know all about the US Open. I was able to say hello to Dr. Costin who was about to tee off. Other than that there was nothing there for me. Now looking out over the golf course, which at one time looked like the epitome of class, but now it seemed like a little cow pasture.

From there I was driven up to the High School. The doors were unlocked so I went in the entrance to the Trophy Room. My trophies were still on display. I was standing there and remembering the events which led up to them.

One of the janitors who had been there many years came up to me. He asked if he could help me, I told him no, I was just remembering past events.

He smiled and said, “I have seen many kids come and go. Some go to good things, some go to bad, most to what I consider a normal life but the one thing you all have in common is you can’t come home. Time passes and things change. You can’t go back, and would you really want to?”

“I guess not.”

“Richard, just because you can’t come back doesn’t mean we don’t remember you or aren’t proud of you. Heck, I have even bragged to my granddaughter who thinks you are the bee’s knees that I had you picking up trash for me.”

Bee’s knees, he can’t be that old, can he?

I laughed and pulled out one of my ever available publicity photos to sign a personal autograph to his granddaughter Janet.

After that I had the driver take us back to Dayton and where I rented a room for the night and took the first flight out in the morning. It was sad, but I learned you can’t come home again. Well, not true, I was on the way home.

 

Chapter 4

I goofed off Friday morning. At breakfast, Dad asked me what I planned to do with the rest of my vacation. I hadn’t given it a lot of thought but off the top of my head, I told him I would like to visit different cities in the US.

“How would you do that?”

“I suppose I could rent a plane or fly commercial.”

“How about using the new Cessna 320 sitting over at the Forest Service?”

“What!”

“Mum and I knew you would need or at least want an aircraft in the US so we went ahead and ordered one last year while you were at Oxford.”

“Wow, you bought me an airplane!”

My brothers and sister were sitting at the table and you could see wheels turning. Mary’s were whirling like a slot machine.

“We ordered you an aircraft. Your company paid for it.”

Just like that, the wheels stopped, except for Mary.

“Daddy does that mean my company can buy me an airplane.”

Have I ever mentioned that Mary can be wickedly sweet at times? Most people would say sickly sweet but with her it was wicked. Dad was a Mary veteran so he never hesitated.

“Certainly dear, as soon as you have your pilot’s license.”

“Can’t I hire a pilot?”

“You know you are not allowed to ride with strangers.”

“But I would be flying, and I could take a bodyguard along.”

“I suppose so, go ahead and draw up a budget and present it to your Mother.”

I don’t know if Dad is a coward or just plain brilliant. I’m going with brilliant yellow. This took the wind out of Mary’s sails. She thought she had him cornered.

Meanwhile, I was scarfing down the last of my breakfast so I could go see my new plane.

I was in a hurry so I drove the jeep over. It was a new addition to our growing fleet of cars but was the best choice for the back way to the Forest Service airport.

Unlike the last time I was there, the only welcome I received was a wave from one of the Rangers I had met on my last trip. Apparently, the idiot with a gun was gone. I guess that left me as the only idiot with a gun. At least, I didn’t throw the weight of my badge and pistol around. Still, I’m an idiot, at least around girls.

My hangar doors were closed. I say my hangar because the whole building had been painted in British racing green with my coat of arms on the large door. Going through the normal-sized man door I turned on the lights.

There sat a beautiful brand new Cessna 320 with the same paint job as the one in England. The inside of the hangar had been done up and there was a complete setup for the minor maintenance required. Anything major would go into the Cessna service center at the dealership.

I had to get inside and check everything out. It was identical to my British aircraft. I thought about taking it up for a flight but realized that I didn’t have time at the moment.

Returning home, I thanked my parents profusely for thinking of buying the plane. Once more I thought it was really nice to have money.

We talked about my proposed trip around the US and what cities I would visit. The list covered every major city and a lot of the minor ones in the entire country. It would take several years to visit all of them. I decided that I would do a southern route with the last stop being in Philadelphia before heading home.

I would fly from LA to San Antonio, followed by New Orleans, Miami, Savannah, Washington DC, and then Philadelphia. There would be fuel stops between some of the cities. I would have to plan those out.

As all this conversation was occurring, Sharon Wallace walked in. She was there to talk to me and Mary about the premiere. When she caught up with what we were talking about she made a suggestion.

“As you visit each city you could invite your local fans to a special showing of ‘Over the Ohio’. I can take care of getting it all set-up. That would really help the ticket sales. Also, it is time you made the news again, plus the whole trip could be charged off as a tax deduction.

I had never given much thought to tax deductions until I got involved with my businesses. Now I realized the impact that not having them would make on my income. I didn’t mind paying the legal amounts but didn’t want to pay any more than that. I think I got that from Dad.

Then Dad brought up the fly in the ointment.

“How are you going to get around in each of those cities? You can’t rent a car.”

We considered the options. I could just drive the trip, that would take too long. I could rent a limo and driver at each stop. I could have the company buy me a car for each town, that was the most far-out suggestion.

While these ideas were being bandied about the question of security came up. While I wasn’t wild about the thought I knew that if I was going to appear in a large crowd I would need security.

For the film showings, we would hire a local firm with multiple personnel for crowd control or if available, off-duty policemen. The off-duty was what I wanted, it gave the men in blue a chance at extra income. They certainly deserved it.

Mum insisted that I have even closer in protection, even if it was just one man. I had the bright idea of hiring an off duty US Marshal. I thought of it as I was wearing a sport coat with my shoulder rig and it was starting to chafe a little. It had become part of my clothing as much as wearing shoes and socks.

So it was settled on hired car and driver, local police off-duty for the showings, and a US Marshal at all times. This didn’t include the advance party of one of Sharon’s employees to take care of having everyone at the right time and place, advertising, and arranging the film showings, plus hotel rooms.

I was reminded that the local newspapers and TV people would want interviews and school would be out if the politicians got involved.

I began to have second thoughts about the trip. We continued to talk about the logistics of the trip through lunch. What had started as me on a sightseeing tour had turned into a full publicity blitz.

After many phone calls over the next couple of days, and many a conversation it worked out that I was going to visit the cities that I listed. Sharon Wallace would meet me in every city by a chartered plane. She would have a car waiting for me. It would be rented in the company name and I would be listed as a driver.

The studio would arrange for the publicity of a special showing in each city for my “fan club.” I actually did have a small club in each city. At least the studio had a written record from someone in each town saying they were the President of my club.

In every incident, it was a young teenage girl. There wasn’t a real idea of how many members there were in each club. When the studio contacted them it turned out the largest had seven girls and the smallest two. That was really good for my ego.

This wasn’t new territory for the studio publicity people. They had radio announcements and newspaper ads about how my fan club was getting a free special showing on a given date. It is surprising how many people of various ages joined the clubs for a free movie.

Hotel reservations were made for me under the company name. I certainly understood why after that debacle in New York. Each city had a map with spots shown that I would like to see such as the Alamo in San Antonio.

Mum looked at the map and went hmm, but didn’t say anything about Bourbon Street in New Orleans. I suspect she put it in the same class as hitchhiking across the country or working as a deckhand. In other words a learning experience.

When Dad looked at it, he just winked at me. I’m not sure what he meant by that and I wasn’t going to ask. I just grinned and got out of there as fast as I could.

I had to be at each theater two hours early to sign autographs. After the movie, there would be a meeting of the original fan club members, There would also be a dozen or so people from the audience, who would be invited as they were exiting by the studio people present.

The combined group would be interviewed on what they thought of the movie. It would be a combination of written and oral questions. They called it a focus group. The results of the questions would give them an idea of the perceived strengths and weaknesses of the movie so they could refine the advertising.

This would normally not be done for most movies but the studio felt like it would be in theaters for an extended run. I wasn’t sure I agreed with them but went along with it, as the movie would make me a ton of money, and if it played enough times the studio would even make a profit.

These meetings would be at a hotel which Sharon would chaperone. They would have refreshments setup. The whole event would be done in two hours. My previous experiences told me that there would be uninvited guests who couldn’t be turned away and that I would be lucky if it was less than four hours.

The receptions, as I thought of them, weren’t at the hotel I was staying at, another lesson learned.

I will say here that Warner Brothers handled me with kid gloves throughout this process. I think they, at least Mr. Monroe, realized they had pushed me too far and that their legal position wasn’t the best.

I was way past being mad about the way I was forced into the movie after I had made my intentions clear but it was too late to change things. One change I made was to have an agreement drawn up with the Shawnee Tribe that half my profits from my movie would go to an educational fund for children of the Tribe.

This was good from a tax point of view and more importantly, helped the people who got the short end of the stick in real life. I was going to do it quietly, but the Shawnee to my surprise wanted to make a big public deal about it.

A stop at the Shawnee reservation was to be made on my way home from my tour. I was told they wanted to do a presentation for my aid to the Tribe and also to publicize their charities. I couldn’t argue that as I was on my own publicity tour.

Saturday morning was hectic around the house. Mary and I had interviews after lunch. All I had to do was to put on clothes, which ones didn’t matter. I kept on my jeans and shirt I put on after my workout and shower. No need to dress up as it was at our home.

The hectic part was Mary. What dress to wear, did these shoes match, should she wear any jewelry, how about make-up. Mum finally had to put her foot down. An at home-type of dress, a small bracelet, and absolutely no make-up.

That set off another round, we had a diva in the making. Dad settled it with a swat across her butt. Just enough to get her attention. That settled that. I can remember those. They never really hurt but they sure did send a message.

Mum had told us of her father taking off his Sam Brown military belt and setting it on the table. He never had to use it. Just the threat was enough. After I saw one in a museum I could understand why.

Mary was calm and right, until lunch that is when she spilled tomato soup on her dress. You would have thought her puppy, parents, and family had died. She and Mum retreated upstairs to select another dress. Mary was sobbing all the way.

About half an hour later she came back down in a nice frock. I noticed she had a hint of color on her lips. I wonder.

The reporter and cameraman for the first interview showed up on time. I have heard the saying attributed to W.C. Fields, “Never appear with kids or pets, as they will upstage you every time.” Those aren’t the exact words but they are so true.

I was asked two questions, did you enjoy working with Mary? And is Mary ready for larger parts?

Other than that it was all Mary. I must say she came across as a professional young actress. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She was calm, cool, and collected.

“I did enjoy working with Ricky. He knows how to bring out the best in me. Other than I had to stand on a box in one scene to talk to him, he does well with the camera.”

Sororicide, I didn’t think I would be convicted.

I love the little brat but I can’t wait till she grows up and I can get revenge. Now it just would look like I was picking on her. Now that is a good idea. I could always fall back on tickling her until she pees.

The second set of interviews went better, at least from my point of view. They actually had some questions for me. It is a shame I couldn’t give a straight answer. The word was out on the street that the movie had a twist.

My honest answer was yes it might be perceived as a twist, buy a ticket, and find out.

On a more serious note, I explained that we had tried to show all sides of the story rather than stereotypes. That in itself was a twist to most modern storytelling, especially when it involved American Indians.

I was asked if it was true that I owned a major portion of the movie. I sidestepped that a little, saying yes I was invested but not how it had come about. I had contributed the basic plot and screenplay as my contribution. Fortunately, they didn’t follow up.

Mary was less self-centered in her replies this time. I think she and Mum had a conversation. I also noted that she had no gloss on her lips. I really pity her first real boyfriends.

 

Chapter 5

Sunday

After breakfast, a reporter for ‘Variety’ showed up. This interview was different from yesterday. First of all, Mary was not present. The reporter had been at an advanced screening of the movie and had questions specifically for me.

Sharon Wallace was going to be there but had a family matter to address so I told her not to worry. I could handle it. I had done dozens of these.

The first one was simple, “Is your song going to be released?”

“Yes, it is it will go out on Monday. The movie should give it a boost.” I didn’t mention the opposite, if we had released it first and it bombed, it might have hurt the movie. Someday people will realize that I can’t sing.

“Rick, how did you feel about playing a character that proves to be a psychopathic killer?”

“Just remember it is a role, not me. We did it this way to show how history can change the way events are viewed. Most of the literature out today makes Lew Wetzel out to be a hero. Both sides of the story needed to be told. We tried to keep that theme throughout the movie, at the government, tribal and individual levels. There were a great many wrongs committed by all involved. Yet few were bad people.”

“Many of them were ignorant of the effects of their decisions or had no idea of the possible ramifications. Somehow I don’t think the British would have chosen the path they did if they realized they would lose all the colonies.”

“The only part that was inevitable was the Indians losing their territories and ultimately their way of life. It was the clash of the farmer verse the hunter-gatherer. The farmer always wins.”

“Rick I understand you had a major role in creating the storyline.”

“I did, it was based on my Ohio history courses in Bellefontaine plus my reading of the newspapers of the day. That and conversations with Chief Redfoot of the Shawnee tribe. It gave me a better perspective on what occurred. I thought it worth telling rather than the Cowboy and Indian stereotypes we see today. It certainly makes a more powerful story to tell.”

“That it did, it is amazing that the budget for a B-movie can result in a possible Oscar contender.”

“Let’s don’t go there. This movie was made to make money. The audience will judge that, while my peers in the industry will judge the artistic merit. Too often the two are confused. Frankly, I would rather have the money.”

“Rick, you do realize that statement is the kiss of death for an Oscar contention.”

“I don’t see why. The movie should stand on its own merits.”

“You don’t act your true age very often, but I’m afraid you are a bit naïve on the way the artistic community works.”

“That is probably true, so I won’t be considered to be one of them, their loss, not mine.”

I realized at that moment I had forgotten the rule of the hole. When you realize you are in one, stop digging.

“I know I just came off sounding aggressively stupid, but want I really want to say is that I realize two different standards are being used to judge the movie. As you pointed out a B-movie’s main goal is to entertain and through that entertainment make money. It never occurred to me that anyone would consider it a work of art.

“May I quote you on the last?”

“Please do.”

Oh Lord, please do.

After that a few questions were asked about working on the set and how was it appearing with my little sister.

“It was fun.”

At this point, I wanted nothing more in the world than to finish with this almost disaster of an interview. Of course, I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

As he was wrapping up I thanked the reporter for the interview.

“Rick, I was young once and stuck my foot in my mouth. A kind gentleman didn’t punish me for it. I’m passing that kindness along. I realize that you weren’t trying to make a statement about the artistic side of the industry but just got tangled up in the words.”

“I can’t thank you enough Holl. Do you really think this has a chance at an Oscar?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

After he left I went for another run in the woods. Here I thought I was getting to be a smooth talker and having an understanding of the industry. I had just about blown it. I needed to run off some of the stress.

Thinking back of how I told Sharon Wallace not to worry, I thought ‘How wrong could I be?’ It seems even us experienced pros could get off on the wrong foot. Maybe I wasn’t as experienced as I thought.

Now all I had to do was hope that Holl was a man of his word. I would know by tomorrow morning when the interview appeared.

After my run, it was time to get ready to go to the premiere of ‘Over the Ohio’.

Fortunately, my new tux had arrived yesterday and with everything to go with it here. Getting ready probably took me ten minutes longer than normal as I had to put the studs in my shirt. My braces were in a tangle but they weren’t hard to get on. I thought the braces were much nicer than suspenders.

My cummerbund would hide them so it didn’t matter which ones I used. The braces felt more stable. I had a vision of the pants fabric slipping out of the suspender clamps and my pants falling down. I bet that is why so many old guys wore belts and suspenders.

Now Mary getting ready was a different story. I’m proud to announce to all females of the world that my little sister was ready to join the ranks. It was time to go and she was still dithering about which necklace to wear.

Mum didn’t help when at the last minute she brought out a real tiara for Mary to wear. Real as in they were real diamonds. I must say she looked the perfect little princess.

At last, all was acceptable. Not perfect but acceptable. Mum brushed the last little bit of lint off of my shoulder and gave me a hug. She and the rest of the family would meet Mary and me at the theater.

We had our own motorcade leaving the house, Mary and me in our limo, the family in theirs, and guards in vehicles front and back. It really got wild when we drove out the front gate.

The Sheriff had sent two patrol cars to escort us to the theater. Lights flashing we went down the hill. It was cool, the only thing missing were flags on the front bumpers of the limos. I would have to ask about that. We could use two sets, one each of my and Mum’s coat of arms.

Well, maybe that would be a little ostentatious.

Our arrival at Grauman’s Chinese theater was a lightning storm of flashbulbs. Mary and I descended from the limo with her taking my arm. I told her in the car not to worry, that I would take care of her. She had been very quiet during the trip. I could tell she was nervous.

Those nerves lasted until we got out of the car. She put on a million-dollar smile and waved at everyone.

I whispered to her that she was doing well.

“Of course I am. I’m scared to death. I’m just acting like I’m comfortable with this.”

If anyone deserves an Oscar it is my sister.

We posed for pictures and gave the brief statements prepared by the studio. They called them sound bites.

Eventually, we made it inside, and once we were settled the movie started. The audience was made up of reviewers and people who had been involved with making the movie.

There was also a cross-section of people who would make up what the studio thought the typical audience would be. These people would be questioned after the movie to see how it would be received.

As anyone who has made a movie knows until you see the finished product, you don’t know what it will be like. In the making, you did it bits and pieces at a time and many of the bits and pieces were left on the cutting room floor. I could have attended an early showing but elected not to. I wanted to be in a real audience rather than the biased one at an early showing.

The way people got into my song told me it would make the charts when it was released tomorrow. I came across in the barn dance and people scenes as a happy go lucky guy. You had to wonder why I was even in the movie.

That is until I was shown to be Death Wind. It was startling how evil I came across. There were actual gasps in the theater when the audience realized it was me the happy go, lucky guy.

Afterward, there was a press interview. It was a circus. The main train of questioning was, “How could you do this, it will change your image forever. This is the dark side of the American Hero, should it be shown?”

“Yes, it should, it is consistent with the rest of the movie about the dichotomies of the times. It wasn’t a black and white time in American history.”

Chief Redfoot was with me. He broke in and stated how all the Indian Tribes would agree with the portrayal of the wars in the Ohio territory. He went on to comment that until very recently Indian’s identified themselves by tribes. Today they were now Indians who belonged to Tribes. A new national identity had been created.

As such they would be more of a voting block than before.

While all this was true, the entertainment reporters weren’t that interested in the political dynamics, they cared about the image that had been created. The consensus of the reporters seemed to be that I had damaged my image and that my normal fan base would reject it. Furthermore, no one else would care to see it.

That was the critic’s opinion. The exit interviews told a different story. The audience loved it. As one of my fans put it, “It makes Ricky a more real person. No one is as good as he has been presented.” Interesting, I thought I was the goody-two-shoes. Would this let me get away with more? Thinking of Mum and Dad, there was no way, nice thought though.

What was interesting was the reaction of those who weren’t considered my fan base. The reaction was that it was a thoughtful piece that was exciting and showed all sides of a complex issue. One guy said it should be required viewing in all schools.

Mary had her moment in the sun and performed as expected. She even had an opportunity to plead for funds for Feed the Puppies and to announce her latest release in dress fashion for the discerning young lady. Her words, not mine.

We went from the theater to the Beverly Hills Hotel and Bungalows. They are okay if you like pink. This was the opening party. The final shoot party had been held some time ago. I was in England at the time so I missed out on the better party, at least a more enjoyable one. This was more of a political event than a celebration.

This is where aspiring actors and actresses looked for future parts. Agents looked for parts and talent. Producers looked for investment in their projects and directors looked for work. Writers peddled their screenplays. Everyone wanted something from me. This included the waiters and waitresses who were all aspiring actors.

Mr. Monroe was there and he kept close to me to help fend off those trying to get near me. By taking major points in the movie I was now a target of everyone looking for money. It was also becoming well known that I had money beyond the movie industry.

I did the glad-handing as needed and actually talked to a few nice people. But on the whole, I would rather be anywhere else. I was so jealous when Mum and Dad took all the kids and left. It was past Mary’s bedtime, you know, Ratfinks.

I had several invitations to go with individuals or groups to their bungalow after the party. This had become a common occurrence. I turned them all down as gracefully as I could. One guy got snotty but I didn’t respond, turning away.

It wasn’t as though I wasn’t interested in sex; I was very interested, just not with that crowd. Early in my career several of the stuntmen took me aside and explained some of the realities of life in Hollywood. The badger game being part of it. There were several variations to watch for. The best way to avoid them was not to get involved.

I suspect Mum, Dad, or Mr. Monroe were behind my education.

To top it all off I found out who made those VD training movies for the armed forces as I had to sit through every one of them. It lent credence to the punchline of an old joke, “The good news is it will shrivel up and fall off.”

The main reason I didn’t want to go with anyone was that I thought it would be better if I had my encounters with someone I knew and liked. At least I should be able to trust them. I didn’t feel saintly about it, just able to control my urges.

To me, this public party was not a party. It was a torture Rick device.

The strain must have shown on my face as Mr. Monroe took me aside and told me, “Go home, Rick. You’ve done your duty.”

I gratefully slipped out a side door. Of course, my escape wasn’t clean. A reporter I had met before was standing outside enjoying a cigarette. He politely asked if he could ask me a question. Feeling trapped I agreed.

“Rick, you look like you are running away from something.”

“I am. This party is not my thing.”

“What don’t you like about it?”

I told him the entire story from people wanting to use me in every manner possible.”

“It’s a shame you have gotten so cynical so young.”

“Am I wrong?”

“That’s the really sad part, you aren’t. I have seen more in my twenty years in this job than you can imagine. My only advice is to run away from it whenever you can.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now.”

“Do you mind if I mention in my column how you have seen through this world and are on your guard?”

“That would be fine. Maybe it will make some people understand that they are wasting their time and back off.”

“Dream on, and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

At that, I bailed out and headed home to bed. I had two good encounters with reporters recently. Maybe they weren’t as bad as I thought. Maybe more of them were like George Weaver.

 

Chapter 6

Monday morning was the start of a hectic day at Jackson House. At breakfast, we were all engrossed in reading the movie reviews. We had six different newspapers and all of them raved about the movie.

The comments ranged from historically accurate to a stellar performance in a new role by Richard Jackson. Then, of course, there was that new rising star, Mary Jackson. Entertaining, thrilling, action-packed, and romantic were just a few of the adjectives used.

Now the only thing left was for people to actually go to the movie.

While we were eating, reading, and commenting Mrs. Hernandez turned up the radio. A new song by Rick Jackson was playing. I liked it, it didn’t sound like me. It was a catchy upbeat tune with a little twist at the end. What’s not to like, did I mention it didn’t sound like me?

The phone kept ringing all this time with requests for interviews and comments. Mary would answer the phone with, “No comment at this time, buy a ticket to the movie.”

Sharon Wallace who had brought the newspapers to us was about to pull her hair out. Dad was encouraging Mary to say something more outrageous but fortunately, Mum stepped in and settled everyone down.

Mary still answered the phone with a more sedate, “Jackson House, there is no comment at this time.”

Sharon told us that Mary’s antics on the telephone were getting known in the industry and that it was a badge of honor to have had a rude answer from her. Boy those people needed to get a life, my sister had been rude to me all my life and I never felt like it was a badge of honor. More like a pain in the neck.

While all this was going on the last-minute details of my trip were being discussed. I had already been over to the Ranger station and loaded my luggage for the trip and ensured the plane was fueled.

Finishing up with last-minute instructions as to where to meet my first car and driver in San Antonio, along with a written itinerary of hotels, theaters, times, and places I was ready to leave. There were hugs and kisses all around, even with the little sister monster I loved.

I made a promise to call when I was safely in and I was off. Dad drove me over to the Forest Service airport. I swear every time I went there they had made it nicer. New barracks were being put up. These would be for aircrew rest in between dumping water and retardant on fires.

Well, I was off after making sure that the wings hadn’t fallen off overnight, no water in the fuel, etc. San Antonio here I come.

I was under visual flight rules as there was no control tower in use at this time. The current tower was being refurbished and would be manned during fire-season, so I was taking off under ‘see and avoid’ rules, looking around for other aircraft on the ground and in the air and trying not to hit anyone.

I got into the air without any near misses. I would have had to work at it since there were no other aircraft in sight. It was really nice having a remote airport so close to our house.

I double-checked my compass settings and then followed the relatively new Interstate 10 to Phoenix. The flight was only a couple of hours but I took an hour break while fueling and eating lunch at Sky Harbor Airport.

I was in line to take off behind a Bonanza, and Frontier planes when a Medevac plane flew by Air Evac jumped the line. The tower put us on hold while it took off. Mr. McGarry would have been proud of them. I suspect a retired fighter pilot was flying that aircraft.

After that bit of excitement, it was off to El Paso for my next fuel stop. It was a rather boring flight. It all looked like the southwestern desert from up here. The mountains and dry rivers were interesting for the first one hundred miles or so. After that, I channel hopped on the radio to listen in on other aircraft to keep me awake.

Again it was I-10 all the way. I had my time and compass settings written down but I was following the highway most of the way. I really saw why the pilot's joke was that IFR meant, ‘I follow roads’’ instead of ‘Instrument Flight Rules,’ was really not much of a joke.

There were several big curves and zig-zags which I could cut across to cut down on distance but not that much.

For a while, I think in New Mexico, there was a train track with an actual train going east. It would not have been legal for me to swoop down on it and pretend I was strafing it so I won’t tell you about it.

El Paso was interesting as I saw some different aircraft operating and several old planes in the bone pile from airlines I had never heard of. I wonder what happened to Standard Airline and Varney Speed Lines.

Continental was flying DC-6’s, which I had never been on. There were also some Convair 240 and 340 craft. A Vickers Viscount turboprop jet came in while I was waiting to take off. Now that was one nice aircraft if I owned a jet that might be it. I had heard they had almost no vibration and were very quiet inside.

From El Paso, I was to follow the yellow brick road, or in this case, continue on I-10 to San Antonio.

Eight hours after leaving home I touched down at Stinson Municipal Airport at San Antonio, Texas. Named after the aviation pioneering Stinson family it was the oldest airport west of the Mississippi. I knew this courtesy of Mr. McGarry who learned to fly at the Stinson Flying School prior to World War II.

After my plane was fueled and tied down I went to the private terminal. There was a man waiting for me who recognized me because he had one of my publicity pictures in hand. He identified himself as my escort for the fan club meeting and film presentation.

He presented his credentials. Off-duty US Deputy Marshal Elliot had an agency car which would be loaned to me after his escort duties were finished. I don’t know what strings had been pulled to make that happen but I knew I had better take care of Uncle Sam’s car.

Marshal Elliot drove me to the Hotel Contessa to check-in. It was right on the famous Riverwalk. There was a boat dock right at the downstairs exit to the hotel so it would be very easy to get around. You could also walk the entire path if you so desired.

On the way to the hotel, the Marshal and I discussed how I was viewed within the Marshal’s Service. It had become common knowledge that I carried a Deputy Marshal badge. Some approved, most didn’t. The reason I had been made a Deputy was never made clear to the rank and file so they had good reason to question it.

I had never been told that I couldn’t share that information. I briefly told him my story about my run-ins with the KGB. My first encounter was in Cuba finding critical information about the Soviets building missile launching pads.

I was very vague about the incident at the airbase. It made sense not to spread how we almost got into World War III. For Mary’s kidnapping, I gave a graphic description of how the family reacted. You could see him cringe at the beheadings.

Then there was the counter-surveillance training where a Soviet spy ring was exposed. This was followed up by a KGB trap led by an FBI traitor. Finally, there was the most recent attempt at the dry-cleaning store.

I explained that I had never been told not to share these stories but he probably should keep them within the Marshal Service if he chose to share them and that I would appreciate it if he would do that across channels rather than up to his superiors.

I would probably catch hell about this down the line but I would rather ask forgiveness than permission. I had to deal with the Marshal’s for the entire trip, and those questioning my validity could endanger me.

That was all a worry for later. I unpacked at the hotel. I didn’t have any commitments until the following day. I was to be at the Majestic Theater after lunch. I would be in the lobby an hour and a half before showtime signing autographed pictures.

It was ironic that the Majestic had been picked. It was well past its glory days and now only had B-movies. This is what ‘Over the Ohio’, was initially budgeted as. Well, it did come in within budget so I guess it technically was still a B-movie. You couldn’t tell it from all the reviews.

To get in free you had to be a member of my fan club. My understanding was that the few real members I had, plus a few paid ones, were sent to all the parks with summer recreation programs and youth centers in town to pass out membership cards which had a free ticket attached.

Since I was free for the evening I walked around the Riverwalk. It was a pleasant evening, not too hot. It seemed like there was an enticing restaurant every inch of the way. Roving bands of musicians kept the crowds in a happy mood. There were bridges every couple of hundred feet so you could cross to stores and restaurants on the other side easily.

The boats, really little barges chugged along the river every several minutes. The Riverwalk was truly a continuous festival. I was able to get into a program called, “Fiesta Noche del Rio,” at the Arneson River Theater. It had upbeat music and dancing all with a Southwestern or Mexican heritage. I was well aware that you had to be careful not to call a Tejano a Mexican. These were people of Mexican descent who were in Texas before the revolution. They fought for freedom alongside Houston, Bowie, and Crockett. They were proud of their heritage and rightly so.

They were the true founding families of Texas and to this day had great influence. Their music and food had even been diverging from Mexico. The food was now called Tex-Mex. To say it was spicy was an understatement. I think I know why their young ladies were said to have fire in their blood. Not that I would know. One could only hope.

I had thought I had dressed appropriately for the evening. I wore jeans, boots, rodeo belt buckle, along with my white cowboy hat. I was just about the only cowpoke there. There were many young men with their dates, all in their suits and ties.

The evening was cool enough I wore a light denim jacket. This allowed me to wear my shoulder holster. I had my US Marshals Badge and ID with me. Since I was in Texas I also wore my Honorary Texas Ranger badge on the outside of my jacket.

From the looks and whispered comments I must have been over the top. Oh well. I wondered how many of them had been caught in a cattle stampede or tangled with rustlers.

I had even been in a showdown on Main Street. Oh right, that was in a movie. Let’s not get carried away Rick.

Even though I stood out no one made an issue of it. I was recognized by several people but they didn’t make a big deal of it. I had pictures along and autographed them, handing them out with free tickets for tomorrow. I was afraid I might get swamped but it was all done quietly and quickly on three separate incidents.

The most exciting thing I saw were four frats boys, at least they had fraternity tee-shirts on, running, or more like staggering down the center of the River. The water was only three or four feet deep. They would stumble and come back up and keep moving. There were two Policemen on each side of the path waiting for them to come ashore.

It looked like a night in the drunk tank for them.

That is until one of them pulled a gun out and pointed it at an Officer across the river. The two Policemen on my side were out of position to do anything. Since he was only three feet away from me and faced the other way I jumped on his back and took him under.

He had no fight in him as I brought him up. He still had his six-shooter in hand. Once I got a look at it I realized he had got the paper roll of caps wet so we were in no danger.

I brought the kid to the edge where he was seized by the Police. The other guys sobered up quickly and surrendered at once. I felt silly for not realizing it was a toy gun but the Sergeant in charge assured me that better safe than sorry. The guy was lucky they hadn’t shot him. The Police were drawing their arms when I jumped him. I probably saved his life.

I was wet from my waist down but luckily my weapon didn’t get wet. My Texas Ranger Badge was recognized as being the real deal so I was questioned about it. I ended up showing my US Marshal ID and Badge to show that I was allowed to carry a concealed weapon.

As far as they were concerned I could have tied a hog leg to my hip and it would have been okay. This was Texas.

The hoorah had collected a crowd and a crowd had collected a reporter. The Police told me that they weren’t authorized to give interviews. It was all mine, I might have believed the Sergeant if the reporter didn’t know him by name.

I did the Ah Shucks routine, but the reporter didn’t buy it. He knew who I was and my national reputation so it became another Ricky saves the day story. Well, I was on a publicity tour. At least Sharon would be happy.

I squished my way back to my room in a very wet pair of boots. It would take days to dry them out and they would never look the same.

It wasn’t that late when I got back so I called Sharon and let her know about my latest adventure. She made sure she had the reporter’s name and newspaper correct. She would call him for all the details and make certain the story had wide dissemination.

 

Chapter 7

The next morning, Tuesday, I met Marshal Elliot for breakfast. I had gone for my run around the Riverwalk. It really looked different with no people or entertainment. It was pretty but seemed like it missed the excitement.

He had driven by the Majestic on the way to the hotel. There was already a line forming to get in. That led to an immediate change of plans. I had dressed in my California casual for the day, chino, polo shirt, and dark blue blazer with the Oxford emblem on it.

Taking a box of the autographed pictures along with me, arrived at 10:00 instead of the scheduled 12:30. That would have been an hour and a half prior to the 2 pm showing.

The ones who were in line early were my true fans. It didn’t take long to figure out that the time we had allowed would not have worked out. There were over a hundred kids in line when we got there.

Mr. Elliot went far beyond his duty as a bodyguard for the day. There was no table or chair set up; though they would be in the lobby later. He took one look around and then asked the two young ladies in the front of the line if they would help him. They looked thrilled and said yes.

It probably helped that he had dressed for the part today. With his badge on display, gun on hip, Stetson on his head, and his big drooping white mustache he looked every inch of a US Marshal. I just thought I looked like a cowboy when in costume.

He asked them to go to the furniture store across the street and ask the owner or manager to join us. It didn’t take long and a portly gentleman joined us. Introductions and a handshake later two workers carried a table and chair over to us.

They also brought a sign for the table, the sign had the store’s name and a handwritten addendum of, “Provided by”. That and I posed for a picture with the owner. I told him he could display it in his store but not use it in print ads. He was fine with that.

He told me the table and chair wouldn’t be sold as his granddaughter, who was in line would want it for her room. That explained the girly chintz covering the chair. Granddad was no dummy.

He brought her up for a special signing and picture taking. I could see we missed a bet on having pictures taken.

Actually, I could see we hadn’t taken several things into account. A quick discussion with Mr. Elliot resulted in the flagging down of a passing police car. They had been going by with an increasing frequency as the crowd grew.

That was a preview of The Richard Jackson Saga Book 9: Coldwar. To read the rest purchase the book.

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