Box Set The Richard Jackson Saga Books 4 -6
Ed & Carol Nelson
The Richard Jackson Saga Book 4
In the Movies
By Ed Nelson
Other books by Ed Nelson
The Richard Jackson Saga
Book 1 The Beginning
Bookv2 Schooldays
Book 3 Hollywood
Book 4 In the Movies
Book 5 Star to Deckhand
Book 6 Surfing Dude
Book 7 Third Time is a Charm
Book 8: Oxford University
Book 9: Cold War
Book 10: Taking Care of Business
Stand Alone Stories
Ever and Always
Dedication
This is dedicated to my wife Carol for her support and help as first reader and editor.
Also, the BHS class of 1962 just because.
Quotation
“That is exactly how 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
2331 Del Webb Blvd. West
Sun City Center, FL 33573
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.
Table of Contents
Contents
The Richard Jackson Saga Book 4
Other books by Ed Nelson
Dedication
Quotation
Copyright © 2019
Table of Contents
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 34
Chapter 35
The Richard Jackson Saga Book 5
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 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
The Richard Jackson Saga Book 6
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 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 1
I was getting used to rising at four-thirty to exercise and run before going to the studio. At the studio, the first thing they announced on Monday was that we would be taking a one-week hiatus next week. We had been working long and hard, and it was time for a break.
When we came back, we would be doing our location shots. These would be out in Colorado at Mr. Easterly’s ranch. This gave me a lot to look forward to. I would have to arrange a trip home, along with a side trip to Detroit to meet Mark Downing and tour Detroit Faucets.
In makeup, the Lead asked me where he could get more of the hairdryers. They were working wonders for them. I told him that they were doing the production tooling now and that the units would be available later.
“How much later,” he inquired.
“I would guess six months.”
“Who should I make out the purchase order to? I need these now. The dryers will help with our shooting schedules tremendously.”
I agreed with him after reflecting on getting thrown into a horse trough many times and told him to make the order out to Jackson Engineering.
His purchase order, while small for the studio was a lot to me. Ten thousand dollars would almost pay the startup costs.
The morning's shoot went well. I think everyone was energized by the idea of having a week off. While I was waiting for my next scene, the key grip from another set approached me.
“Rick, I’m John Dawson. We are having a problem setting up a shot over on sound Stage B. I’ve been told that you are good at mechanical things and maybe could help us.”
We shook hands and I told him, “No guarantees, but what is the problem.”
“We have to do a fight scene on top of a moving train. The Director wants the fight to bounce around because of the track joints. This is before welded rail so the joints really can bounce the car around.”
I thought back to the clickity-clack I loved and remembered at times how we got tossed around inside the cars, so it must be a problem on top.
“I’m aware of that. What have you tried so far?”
“We tried bouncing the cameras, but that is what it looks like, the cameras moving not the people. Our next step is to have stuntmen do the fight on top of a moving car with a camera suspended from the side of the boxcar.”
“Even then to get the effect the Director is looking for; you would have to be moving at speed. That is a recipe for disaster,” I mused.
“You got it in one.”
“So, modifying the cameras to bounce doesn’t work, using a real-life setup is too dangerous. That leaves a modified boxcar. How about cutting the top off a car, mounting it on something like walking beams or camshafts? That way you could get the amplitude and frequency that you need.”
“Yeah, we could put airbags all around to reduce the falling danger. It would also allow us to set up several different camera angles,” added an excited Key Grip.
He continued, “It would be cheaper and easier to build a false boxcar top than a cut one-off. Thanks, Rick, you have been a big help.”
I’m not sure how much I helped, but it was a fun few minutes.
I saw Dick Wyman at lunch, he told me that he had used the hairdryer this morning after his shower and he thought it was wonderful. While we were eating, my teachers, Miss Sperry and Mr. Danson joined us and informed me that I had passed all of my State exams including Spanish, and had now completed my freshman school year. With Spanish, I had picked up an extra credit towards graduation. They wanted to know if I was ready to start the tenth grade.
“Wow you guys know how to burst a bubble, I finish ninth grade today, and now you want me in tenth! Have you ever heard of summer vacation? On a more serious note, we only have three weeks to go. I haven’t been asked to appear in anything else so it probably would be a waste of time contacting Bellefontaine for my curriculum.”
“From a curriculum point of view, we would use the California schedule. Your studies would match the test. We were lucky this year, but I hate to count on it,” Mr. Danson told me.
“Unfortunately, you are correct about not starting anything since you won’t be here. It has been a pleasure and your results have made our company look good. You will be part of our presentation for our license renewal and work with other production companies.”
“Do I get a fee,” I asked?
From the look on Miss Sperry’s face, I had rained on her parade.
“I was only kidding. If it would help, I would give you a testimonial.”
“That would be great,” enthused Mr. Danson!
I had redeemed myself with Miss Sperry, how I hated to disappoint attractive women. She then let me know how pleased she was with her new hairdryer. Mr. Danson chimed in, “My wife is pleased also, she can get her hair wet while showering and still only take fifteen minutes to be ready for work. She wants to know where she can buy them as gifts.”
I had to inform them that they were six months or more from the marketplace.
After lunch, it was back to the set for more scenes. We spent till three o’clock doing walkthroughs for tomorrow's shooting. We had to be available for twelve hours a day. We rarely used all twelve hours. As a child, the labor laws applied to me. The studio got around this by tracking the hours I worked. They didn’t count the time I was waiting for other scenes. From what I was getting paid, I felt like I was the one doing the exploiting.
Even so, the State would check us out at random to make certain I wasn’t being worked to death. That in itself was a laugh. I was the fittest I had ever been in my life. The person who checked on us looked like he had been in Dachau. He looked so bad I felt sorry for him. As Mum would say he looked a decent chap.
He would check my hour log the studio was required to keep and ask me how things were going. He never gave anyone a hard time. I guess if guys like him weren’t doing their job, there would be abuses like the nineteenth century.
When the afternoon work was completed, I went over to the stunt area. I outfought Sammy with the real swords.
I got off to a fast start. With my rapier in sixte and posted, I performed a Balestra followed by a lunge and a counter beat which disarmed him.
In English, I started with my sword blade straight out and pointing slightly up in the sixth position, which was the most basic dueling start. I held it in a post which meant I had my fingers back a few inches on the hilt to give me a little more extension, this surrendered some strength and accuracy but was needed for what I was about to try. I had backed off about ten feet which seemed like a lot but could be overcome quickly.
I performed a forward leap, the Balestra, and then lunged directly at him. As I landed in position, I circled my sword under his and went up sharply causing his sword to fly out of his hand. It was the first time I had ever had him at such a disadvantage. I think he was more excited than I was. I guess it validated his teaching.
Then he proceeded to soundly thrash me. Well, at least score more hits. He was still the teacher, and I’m the student.
When it was time to lift, I was able to add more weights. I had to buy new shirts!
Chapter 2
Boxing was getting to be fun. Coach Palmer and I talked about what I was trying to achieve in my lessons. The one thing we both agreed on was that I wouldn’t try to turn professional. From my point of view, there were two reasons, the first and main reason was self-defense. The second was to have the skill available if needed in a role. He thought those very reasonable goals. He thought I had the basics down. What I needed now was a varied experience. This would involve me going up against various opponents of different skill levels.
He added one additional thought. “Boxing is a sport with rules. For self-defense, you need to fight with no rules.”
“What would you suggest?”
“If you had the time you could attend Ed Parker’s Kenpo Karate School in Pasadena. The only problem is you would have to train almost every day for a year to become proficient. I think your best bet is hiring an unarmed combat instructor, someone who trained Marines, not Army.”
“Why choose a Marine trainer and not an Army instructor?”
“Marines exist to fight, Semper Fi!”
I think there might be a bias at work here, but he is the coach.
“Do you know of anyone available?”
“Of course, I know someone, me! I’m a certified Black Belt trainer from my active-duty days.”
So now I had unarmed combat added to my training regime. His hourly rate was very reasonable.
With twenty-eight hours of training, he could get me to the Tan belt level, another twenty-five hours to the Grey. This would make me proficient in basic techniques. Above that were the Green, Brown, and Black belts, but time would run out on the movie schedule before I could receive that training unless I wanted to stay in California and finish the levels.
I told him that I would be satisfied with the Tan and Grey belts for now. Not that I would get a belt, just the training. We agreed that I would box various opponents, after the hiatus and location shoot, for two weeks. We would add an hour a day for unarmed combat during that time. When that was finished, we would use two hours a day. That way I would be at the Tan level within five weeks. We would have to see what time if any remained to work on the Grey level.
Of course, it all depended on how quickly I could pick things up. My condition was better than most Marine recruits going into basic, so I had an advantage there. It would all depend on how fast I could master the techniques.
I stopped at the studio travel department and had them arrange my flight home on Saturday and return to Denver airport Sunday week. On returning to my apartment, I made several calls. First, I called my reporter friends to check in. None of them needed anything from me except a statement on Paul Grant.
We agreed that while I had professional disagreements with Paul Grant’s behavior on the set, I was shocked and dismayed about his personal life. I was sorry that he was dead, I would not wish that on anyone, but at the same time, you sow what you reap. For each of the reporters, we came up with a slight twist of the words, so it didn’t look like a planned statement but a frank interview.
The reporter for the Los Angeles Examiner told me that the gang wars had fizzled out and that the gangs were puzzled by what started it. Grant's death was the opening blow, but no one knew who had struck or why. Grant was considered a low-level dealer selling to people on the sets, and no one was fighting for that territory. However, once he was killed, they had to react or appear weak.
At the same time, they were trying to figure out who had started it. Since no one was trying to replace him, the gangs were at a loss to explain the conflicts start, so they just let it die out. It had been hard on the people caught in the middle but perceived as a cost of doing business.
Officially the police were pleased with the cessation of violence. Unofficially as one officer put, “It’s a shame all of the scum buckets didn’t kill each other.”
I called Anna Romanov. Her social secretary put me right through.
“Richard, I am so glad you called. I’ve outlined my goals with my new business. I’m going to take many different household products, have a design variation with my name, and sell them as the Romanov collection.”
She said this in a rush. You could hear the excitement.
“I’m going to Detroit Faucet this coming week if you could break free. You could spend some time with our designer.”
“Can’t the designer come to me?”
“Yes, she can, but think about this, you are about to put your name on a product manufactured by someone else. Won’t you want to make sure that it is a real plant run by real people who know what they are doing? You have to audition for parts. They should have to audition for you. The only difference is they can’t bring their factory to you.”
“Oh, I see what you mean. It could be fun. I have never been in a factory before.”
“Are you available next Thursday? If you are I would like to make us an appointment, but let’s make you a mystery guest? That way there won’t be any reporters there.”
“I like that, Richard; this will be fun. I can fly in on Wednesday and stay at a hotel near the airport and you can pick me up. Then I will fly home on Thursday night.”
“Okay, let me make a phone call to make certain that Mark Downing the majority owner, and our Designer, Sally Enright are both available. I’ll call you right back.”
I called Mark, he and Sally would be available. I did tell him that I might have a surprise guest. He wanted to know who it was, but I told him it wouldn’t then be a surprise. After calling Anna back, and giving her our home number in Bellefontaine so she could relay her travel arrangements, I called home.
Mum and Dad were thrilled with the idea of me coming home. When I informed them of my Detroit plans, they wanted to join the trip. There was no reason they couldn’t. We would also drive up on Wednesday evening, stay at the same hotel as Anna, and go to the plant as a group. They were pretty certain that Mrs. Hernandez would stay overnight with the kids.
Dad wanted to know if I had discussed any financial items with Miss Romanov, he was relieved when I told him no. He wanted to wait until we were in Detroit to have any serious discussions. He had no idea if she had realistic expectations.
Next on the agenda was the hairdryer. Dad had heard back from American Style. They would like to open discussions for an exclusive license. He asked me to get as much feedback as I could in writing. The actual order from the Warner Brothers makes up department would strengthen our hand.
He had sent off the gifts I had requested, including one each to Elizabeth and Ike. It seemed strange sending a hairdryer to a bald guy, but I didn’t want him to feel left out if he learned I had sent one to the Queen.
We tossed around ideas of what we should ask for but left it undecided.
We also discussed me buying a house here in California. We decided to put it on hold. I would be coming home in a month or so, the Paul Grant situation appeared to be settled, and I hadn’t any movie offers to keep me here.
After that Dad asked if I had planned a trip to Rowland Heights. I hadn’t yet but improvised and told him, that after shooting tomorrow I was taking a trip down there. Dad treated it with the respect it deserved, none.
“Please do it for me, Rick.”
As we were about to hang up, Dad added, “Watch your mailbox we have forwarded an interesting newspaper article to you.” He wouldn’t tell me anymore.
I called Nina. She updated me on her school day, boring, then the social events of her day. It doesn’t help when you don’t know the players. In turn, I told her of my day and how I was starting a self-defense class.
I did tell her about my trip home next week. I also let her know I was going to Detroit but didn’t say anything about Miss Romanov joining my family. If nothing came of it, I didn’t want to start any rumors. I had already seen how things got around in this town.
Overall, I don’t think I missed school very much. I was working in an adult world. It was more interesting. Was I becoming an old man before my time? What nonsense. I’m only fifteen!
Later that night I started a new thriller. The hero was sent to Crab Key to investigate the disappearance of a fellow operative, Commander Strangways.
Chapter 3
Tuesday started fine. After our morning rituals, Dick and I headed our separate way to the studio. We pulled out of the apartment parking lot at the same time, and I tried to get him to drag, but he would have none of it. Just as well I probably would’ve got a ticket.
At the front gate to the studio, they told me Mr. Baxter would like to see me at the front office entrance. This was my agent, John Baxter. I wonder what he wanted to see me about. He had warned me that it could be as much as a year before I had another movie offer. If I didn’t have one by a year, I probably wasn’t going to get one.
He was all smiles, so I was correct in guessing it was good news.
“I’ve got an audition for you.”
“What is it?” I inquired.
“It’s a young Robin Hood type of adventure. The working title is Bandits of Sherwood. Since you are so good with a sword and bow you will be a natural.”
Now it was news to me that I was good with a bow. I hadn’t handled one more than two or three times in my life, and they were more toys than the real thing. So, I did what they did in Hollywood, make-believe.
“I’m fairly good with a sword. I will have to work on the bow part.”
“That’s good, your sword work will be much more important. They will do cutaways for any archery.”
“When is my audition?”
“In about fifteen minutes. I checked with Ron Dodge and he doesn’t need you till after lunch, so you are good to go.”
There is nothing like being thrown into the deep end.
“Where do we go and am I dressed okay?”
“They don’t care what you wear for this.”
Mr. Baxter led me to another set where a Director, Mr. Stanley Butler was waiting with a small camera crew. He gave me some lines to read. I asked him if he wanted a British accent. He told me that would be great if it was easily understood by an American audience. I switched to my Sir Nicklaus voice and he loved it.
The Producer was there though he sat there silently, and I wasn’t introduced. I hadn’t seen him around the lot, so I hadn’t any idea who he was. Mr. Baxter and he were in a deep conversation while I worked on my audition lines.
I read through my lines silently a few times, then out loud. There were only a half dozen, so I memorized them on the spot. When I told them, I was ready they had me run through in front of the cameras without filming. Once they were satisfied with the lighting, we were ready to go. One nice thing I noticed the grips were people I had worked with before, and they seemed to be on my side, at least they took the time to get things correct.
I did two presentations for the camera and Mr. Butler said that was enough. We had to wait several minutes for a stunt man to arrive. I was told the stunt man would be testing my ability with the sword. I strongly suspected who it would be. Sure enough, I heard Sammy as he was coming around the corner.
“These damn teenagers you bring in here have never held a sword and wouldn’t know the pointy end if I stuck it in them.”
About then he caught sight of me. “Well, some of them know the pointy end, hi Rick.”
He had brought protective gear for us with him but set all, but the swords down. Let’s do it, Rick, show them what you have.”
The Director said, “Roll” Then we were at it. It was really fun. We were both showing off with different strokes and parries, we did some Errol Flynn stuff, jumping up on tables. All of a sudden, I heard, “Cut!”
“That was wonderful,” exclaimed Mr. Butler. “Where did you learn that?”
I bowed as I pointed to Sammy, “My teacher Sir.”
‘We will call to let you know, but you are a strong contender for the part.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. They hadn’t asked me to draw a bow. I probably couldn’t have drawn a real one with the biggest box of Crayola’s.
As we were walking out Mr. Baxter said, “You got the part.”
“What do you mean, they said they will call, that means they want to see other people.”
“That’s what he said to save face. He could hear Tim Hughes and me talking. Tim knows all about your other movie with Wayne, and I told him about the TV special coming out late spring. He also knows you have been on Jack Paar and get into the entertainment columns regularly.”
“That makes you a draw, Butler also sees that the crew has picked you. They showed their support in the way they set you up. An upset crew can ruin a movie and with it a Director’s career. You have the part.”
“Okay, what should I do now?”
“Try to use some of those magic contacts you seem to have in the press. That would force the issue if done properly. If they praise you as a pick for Bandits of Sherwood, it will be more pressure to select you. Now the question is how much you want to make on this movie, it is a B movie and will be doing good to gross ten million. That means you can make between one and three hundred thousand.”
“Go for two hundred thousand and three points. The movie will have to break fifteen million for me to make three hundred thousand. That will show I have some skin in the game. Also, I would like to see an aggressive schedule like Sir Nick, start on April 13 and finish on May 18. That gives me one week off between pictures and then back in Ohio for an event I have near the end of May.”
“An aggressive schedule will keep the cost down. It will also have you working more than you have had to on Sir Nick.”
“I know, but I have finished school for the year, so I have three to four hours more a day open.”
“Are you some sort of genius that can learn quickly?”
“No sir, I’m not dumb, but the important thing is that I’m organized and not afraid to work. Put that together with private tutoring and I can go through the material fast. I’ve never had an I.Q. test, but I think I am normal or a little above, but nothing special.”
“Well Rick, you’re accomplishing special things, so that makes you special in my book.”
“Thank you, Mr. Baxter, now I had better get over to my set.”
“I will call as soon as I hear something.”
“Okay.”
I got to the set-in time to see Mr. Wayne tear into a group of actors who hadn’t done their homework. They played the role of the Regulators, the businessmen who had control of Johnson County. The three actors hadn’t got their lines down pat and needed more run-throughs than necessary. I learned several new phrases. I didn’t think you could do that sort of stuff with goats.
Rather than get involved with that mess I went to lunch a half-hour early. Lunch was always fun; you would never know what you were going to see on any particular day. It looked like half the British Army, from the Revolutionary War was there today, Redcoats everywhere.
For some reason, there were always actors dressed as Indians. After a while, you didn’t even notice them. To round it out there were Spanish Conquistadors, 1920’s Flapper Girls, two great white hunters, and of course me, dressed as an 1890 cowboy. If you come back tomorrow the costumes would change, but it would still have a wonderfully weird feel to it.
After lunch, till two o’clock they had me in front of the camera. It was all talking in one setting rather than action shots, so it was just reciting lines. I was becoming fairly good at it, and my English accent was so ingrained that I had used it while shopping several times.
Today was different I couldn’t deliver a line correctly to save my life. I was so glad that Mr. Wayne had left the set. If he were present, he would be eating me alive. After an hour, the Director threw up his hands in despair and told me to, “Get out of here, come back tomorrow ready to work!”
Chapter 4
Though it wasn’t what I had planned. It worked in my favor as I was going to drive to Industry and go to the Workman – Temple residence. I had read up on the early history of California in the library. My ancestor’s brother, John Rowland had led a party of settlers, with William Workman, to be the first white settlers in California.
They had settled in the LA area, both owning large tracts of land. The Rowland family whom I had never met still owned some of the original parcels in the Industry. The Rowland house, which was the first brick structure in California, still stood. I would like to visit someday but my mission was to check out Don Pio Pico’s grave. He was the last Mexican governor of California.
His remains were moved to the Workman–Temple family graveyard in 1921. I was hoping that whatever I was looking for was buried behind his tombstone. I had cut up a coat hanger to make a probe. If it was buried deeper than that I wasn’t going to find it. I’m not about to go digging big holes in a graveyard. It just wouldn’t be right. Besides, it would scare the heck out of me if I hit a coffin.
The drive down was pleasant. I had to stop for gas once. The gas cap located behind the license plate was convenient. I wondered how it would work with a continental kit. I had thought about having one added but decided not to.
Getting back on the road I came up behind a gasoline tanker, I had to back off a long way. There were stones on the road and the chains, at the back of the tanker to ground it from static electricity, were kicking them up. I finally gave up and pulled over and got an ice cream cone from a Tastee-Freez. This lets the truck get away. The ice cream was good also.
I arrived to find an abandoned overgrown mess. The house was in great disrepair. It would take a major effort to restore it. Since no one was around I walked around the back of the house and found the family graveyard. It didn’t take much hunting to find the graves of Don Pio Pico and his wife.
I returned to my car and retrieved my coat hanger probe. I took a long look around, but no one was in sight. Returning to the grave I probed behind the back of the tombstone. About two feet out I hit resistance about six inches in the ground. Probing around it appeared to be a rectangle of four inches by twelve inches.
I returned to my car and drove into Industry, stopping at a hardware store to buy a garden trowel. Heading back to the cemetery there still was no one in sight. I dug up the combination of sod and desert sand around the spot I had probed and set it aside. I then dug down deeper to find a metal box wrapped in oilcloth.
The box was not locked. Upon opening it, I found a handwritten note.
“If you find this note, please call this telephone number and state you’re calling on the lost family. After writing down the phone number please rebury the note in the box.”
It was signed, William Rowland.
I wrote down the number in the back of my ever-present little black book. Everyone carried one to write down phone numbers. Of course, if you were a teenage boy, they were supposed to be girlfriends. I didn’t have very many numbers and most of them were adults like scout leaders, Jackson Engineering contacts, guys at school, or movie business.
What did that say about me? The only girls I had numbers for were Janet Huber, Pam Schaffer, Judy King, Cheryl Hawthorne, and now Nina Monroe. Not an impressive score according to all the songs I heard.
After that, I reburied the box wondering what it was all about. I headed back home. This was Dad’s to sort out. It was past ten o’clock in Ohio when I got home, so I didn’t call. What I did was practice my lines. Knowing them hadn’t been the problem it was saying them with the proper conviction.
I was used to succeeding in most things I tried. I didn’t like today’s failure at all. I had managed to put it aside when I went down to Industry, but now was the time to face it. As I went over my lines, they didn’t feel right to me. I pulled the original script and reread it instead of using the daily shooting script.
When I reread it, it dawned on me? There was a problem, and I was it. I was taking the scene out of context. Movies were never shot as a straight-through story, but as the logistics and economics dictated. Sir Nick's character had been growing as the story went along, starting as your basic upper-class spoiled brat to a capable young man who took responsibility for his actions.
This scene was a throwback on his development. I was trying to play it as responsible Sir Nick instead of spoiled Sir Nick. It wasn’t the words I was saying it was the body language I was using. Using this discovery, I went over the lines again and it fell in place.
Wednesday morning, I couldn’t rush through my daily routine fast enough. Dick Wyman had to get me to slow down on the track. He wanted to know where the fire was. I explained how I had screwed up yesterday and now had a chance to redeem myself.
He told me not to make too big of a deal about it, all actors went through it several times in their career. They would forget where the scene fits into the movie and do it all wrong. The trick was to figure out the problem, apologize, do it right, and move on. The worst thing I could do is blame other people for my problems.
Since I knew I was the problem why would I want to blame someone else? If I had a motto it would be, fix it and move on.
At the studio, my first act arriving at the set was to find Ron Dodge and apologize for yesterday’s performance. He agreed with my take on the problem and told me it was okay, but I had to get it right today.
Fortunately, I did. It didn’t seem natural to me to be a spoiled brat, but I channeled Paul Grant and it worked. One thing I thought of last night, I had always accused Denny and Eddie of being spoiled brats. I now understood they were anything but. The one in danger of being spoiled was Mary. She had three brothers who doted on her.
Well, Eddie, who was closer in age didn’t put up with as much nonsense as Denny and me. Even as I thought about that I realized we didn’t let her get away with things completely like cheating at Monopoly. The more I thought about it she wasn’t that spoiled either.
Paul Grant would be my role model for spoiled from now on. I had the gross thought that he had been dead long enough that his corpse would be spoiling by now. Yuck!
Ron Dodge came over to me as we finished up shooting before lunch. “Rick, you are turning into a professional actor. You had a bad day like everyone has and bounced back. You handled it maturely, not taking out your shortcomings on the rest of the world. That is rarer than you may think. You seem like an adult in a child’s body.”
“Thank you for your kind words. May I ask a favor?”
“Within reason,” he replied.
“Could you have a daily script written up where I get to throw Mr. Wayne in the water trough?”
“Are you serious?”
“Just as a joke, it would be great to see the look on his face.”
He chuckled as he replied, “Strike that comment about being an adult in a child’s body.”
Lunch was the usual parade of people dressed from across the world and the ages. I was joined by the key grip who had asked me about the boxcar.
“It worked well. We rigged up a set to give the motion. It worked so well; we are now having the box car top being built. There is no doubt it will work. I will be the key grip on the Bandits of Sherwood. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“You know more than I do, no one has called me yet.”
“They will soon, your agent is in negotiations as we speak. From what I hear you will like the deal.”
It is a small tight world we live in, and they aren’t any secrets. I should remember that.
After lunch, it was back to the salt mines, well the movie set. Mr. Wayne was there all dressed and ready to go. One of the writers came around and handed us all a new daily script. I suspected its contents and jumped down to the end.
I got there just as an explosive yell came out from Mr. Wayne.
“There is no way in hell he is going to throw me in a horse trough!”
We all burst out laughing, led by Mr. Dodge. Mr. Wayne caught on immediately.
“Who put you up to this Ron?”
Mr. Dodge was still laughing but managed to point towards me. I would’ve thought he would have waited at least a minute before throwing me to the wolves.
Mr. Wayne shook his fist at me and said, “You will pay, Ricky, when you are least expecting it.”
Now that was a threat to fear from someone with Mr. Wayne’s resources. We settled down and were able to get two scenes in the can. While I wasn’t invited to see the overnight rushes, I had been told that things were going well.
After we were done at five o’clock, I went to the stunt area for my workout.
Chapter 5
After my lifting, I hunted Sammy up for sword work.
Sammy had another man with him, Rod Bell. Rod was an archer. They didn’t even have to tell me, all the gear he had told the story for him.
After introductions, I was given a tour of the bow. It was a full-size six-and-a-half-foot English longbow. Rod had me try to draw it. I was able to pull it back easily. I commented on this and he laughed.
“This is a beginner's training bow; it has a twenty-five-pound draw. If you couldn’t pull that we would be taking you to the Doctor. A regular longbow used in war could have a draw over one hundred and fifty pounds. Today a sixty-pound pull is the norm.”
“We will work you up to a sixty-pound bow. That will force you to go through the proper motion to draw a bow. This will look good on the screen.”
“What is the proper motion? I thought you held your left arm stiff and pulled the string back with your right arm.”
“Not at all, you keep the string in your right hand up tight to your anchor point and bend your whole-body weight into the horn of the bow to draw it.”
He demonstrated it to me and had me practice the motion. My anchor point was my chin, where the string touched my body when the bow was fully drawn.
“Also, we have to fit you with a bracer, so you won’t tear your arm or hands apart. You are big enough to use standard, three-foot-long arrows.”
“Rick, it takes a lot of practice to become accurate with a bow, more than a handgun. We don’t have time for that. Any shots in the film will be done by a trained archer. We will show you drawing the bow correctly and losing, but that won’t be the arrow flight shown.”
I knew I wasn’t an archer, but this burst my bubble. We worked for half an hour on the proper draw of a bow. Rod told me he would bring a bow with a forty-five-pound pull tomorrow to see how I did with that. The higher the poundage I could pull, the more realistic it would look on the screen.
I hadn’t said anything, going with the flow, but everyone seemed to think I had this movie part.
We skipped sword work and Sammy thought I was more than capable of doing any of the choreographed fights for the movie. That’s right choreographed, just like a dance. Nothing was left to chance. That way each fight would come out as they wanted it.
If it were a minor bad guy, I could take him down right away. The climax fight with the major baddie would require him to get the upper hand and for me to fight back.
At boxing, it was a bag and footwork only. It took an hour but seemed much shorter. I certainly needed a shower. At my apartment door, there was a package. When I opened it there was the cigar box I had requested and another unopened package.
The unopened package was posted from the Shawnee Nation. When I opened it there was an article from the tribal paper and a presentation box. I opened the presentation box first. It was a silver medal similar to the one that was given to Chief Blackhoof, but instead of the President's profile, it had Blackhoof’s profile. It also had a small number 001 on it. The medal was suspended from a leather cord so it could be worn around the neck.
The box itself had an engraved plate with the message, “Richard Jackson, a friend of the Shawnee, 1959.”
Wow!
After I calmed down and had examined and admired the medal enough, I read the article. It told how based on information provided by Richard Jackson, the Blackhoof collection of medals was found in the tribal archives. This rare collection was the most complete of all the presentation medals ever found and would be on display in the Shawnee Historical Museum.
Mr. Jackson has been presented with medal number one of the newly founded Blackhoof medal to be presented to those who had proven themselves to be a true friend of the Shawnee as long as the sun rises. I wonder if they will ever give one to a politician.
I called back to Bellefontaine and talked to the family. I told Dad about my adventure at the Workman- Temple residence. It was now a rundown house. I told him of my find and gave him the phone number and the phrase to use. He told me he would try it, he hadn’t any hopes of there being anything of value, but this could be interesting.
I told him about the Blackhoof medal, and he laughed.
“You will get a kick out of this; the Logan County Historical society was setting up the Manary Blockhouse and the workers found a hidden compartment. There have been all sorts of guesses about what may have been stored there. None of them have been close.”
Dad also had some additional family news. It appears his two half-brothers in Indiana tried to make up their lack of funds by running moonshine. They were now facing five years in the penitentiary. Their mother had called trying to raise money for a lawyer, but Dad declined.
I spent some time with my brothers and sister even though I would be home on Saturday. Last night’s thoughts had made me realize how much I missed them. Mary wanted to know if I had been to Disney yet.
She just said, “Oh.” When I told her, “No?”
But I could tell she was disappointed.
Next, I followed my agent’s advice and called my media contacts. They were all interested in the new movie, and me having a role. The person from the LA paper already had heard and was planning a piece. As usual, I gave each a separate quote.
As an extra tidbit, I talked about John Wayne and the fake script, where I got to throw him in the horse trough. I figured he was going to get me, so I should take it as far as I could. They couldn’t wait to hear what his revenge would be. This was appreciated as inside news and helped cement my relations. Maybe I did have magic contacts as Mr. Baxter called them.
Last I called Nina and asked her what she was doing on Friday.
There was going to be a small dinner party at her house, would I be her plus one?
“What is a plus one?”
She explained, rather than, “and guest,” the term used was “plus one.”
The rich even talk differently.
I told her I had a small gift for her Dad. Of course, she had to know what it was. When I told her about the unopened box of cigars, she was amazed.
“Ricky, the open box with two cigars is my Dad’s pride and joy. This will blow him away. Where did you find it, and how can you afford to give it away so casually!”
I explained that I had found it. As far as its value it had cost me nothing and was sitting in a closet. Why shouldn’t I give it to someone who collects them?”
“Still, it is a very generous gift. He will want desperately to do something for you.”
“The only things I could use right now are gifts for my brothers and sister from Disneyland.”
“I think we may have items that would work. What are their ages again?” I told her; she then confirmed the dress code for Friday. It was what I thought of as California casual, slacks, golf shirt, and jacket.
My last call was to Mark Downing, now that it was confirmed I figured I had better tell him about Anna Romanov. He about flipped when I told him she wanted to have her name on some of the designer faucets in our line. The fact that she would be in his factory come next Thursday shook him up. When I hung up, I figured he was about to lose a week’s production as the plant was cleaned. That might not be a bad thing.
I watched an episode of Mr. Ed and then went to bed. I read a detective story set in Esmeralda, California. I would have to look that up as I had never heard of it. It had it all, murder, blackmail, revenge. I think the line I liked best in the whole story was: “There was nothing to it. The Super Chief was on time, as it almost always is, and the subject was as easy to spot as a kangaroo in a dinner jacket."
Chapter 6
Thursday was another day. Up early, exercise, run, have a quick breakfast at the studio commissary, work on the set. Notice I said work on the set. I don’t know when acting had become a job to me, but it had. It was a good enjoyable job, but it didn’t feel like I was getting a day off from school anymore.
Would I want this job forever? No, but I had no idea what I wanted to do. It would have something to do with humans in space, but what? It wouldn’t be as an Astronaut. I was too tall, the height limit was six foot three inches, I’m six-four. It would be as a passenger at a much later date.
The more likely possibility was that I would drive projects which would help explore space. That would take money, lots of money. Well, I was working on that. Unfortunately, it was a lot of money on a personal basis, not a corporate basis. What I was thinking of would take Lockheed or Boeing sort of money. Well, that was a project for a later date.
As a team, we were able to get through several scenes today. I appeared to be over my acting problems. As long as I reread the script to know where Sir Nick was on his growth curve, I was okay. I wish it were this easy in real life. He always progressed forward. My life seemed to go two steps forward, one back.
It made the day more interesting when I heard a voice behind me say, “Partner when you least expect it.”
Time goes fast when you are looking over your shoulder continuously. I thought I had it at lunch when someone popped a paper bag behind me. It seems the whole studio, knew about Mr. Wayne’s promise and was trying to ‘help’ out.
After lunch, it was back to work until six o’clock. I did my lifting at the stunt area, but everyone else had left so I headed home. I stopped at a Burger Chef and then went back to the apartment. I unlocked the door to a ringing telephone. It was the reporter from the LA paper.
He wanted to know how I had got such a good deal for appearing in Bandits of Sherwood. I told him I hadn’t been told I had the part much less what the deal was. He had a hard time believing me. It was all over the street. He hung up disappointed that I couldn’t tell him any more, but I think he believed me.
I had barely hung up when the phone rang again. It was Mr. Baxter. I couldn’t help it.
“I hear I got a really good deal on the part.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“The LA Examiner just hung up.”
“It is impossible to keep a secret out here. Yes, you got a wonderful deal, two hundred and fifty thousand and four points.”
“Really,” I didn’t squeal, girls squeal.
I just made several high-pitched yells.
“Really,” he replied.
“Please tone it down. You are going to ruin my hearing.”
I managed to quiet down.
“That is great Mr. Baxter. What about the shooting schedule?”
“That is why you got so much; they are anxious to get this film done. It is being squeezed in before another commitment, so they were thrilled that you wanted an aggressive schedule.”
“Mr. Baxter I appreciate all your efforts on my behalf.”
“Rick, it has been my pleasure. Becoming your agent may have saved my life and I know it saved my granddaughter. You are our hero.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
“I would like to have a serious discussion with you as to where you want to take your career.”
“Can it wait till after I get back? We are on hiatus next week then on location in Colorado.”
“There is no hurry. I just would like to get a feel for your goals in life, so I know what parts to go after.”
“Fair enough, but I must warn you, that I may not want to make my mark in life by being in the movies.”
“That is what I have to know, let’s talk about it later. May I also suggest, call the LA paperback, and give them an update? You need them on your side.”
“I will do that and talk to you later.”
“Good night, Rick.”
I called the LA reporter back and updated him on my conversation. I told him the details of the deal and that they went for it because I was willing to work an aggressive schedule.
I may have been a little misleading. I left him with the idea that it was my work ethic that made me attractive to them, rather than the fact that I had requested the schedule. I wanted to attend the Scout Camporee and go on my summer vacation.
I spent some time selecting the clothes I would take to Ohio. I had bought new clothes that fit better since I had started lifting weights. I was glad that I broke down and bought a new suit. It was a dark blue with very thin muted red pinstripes. It was the first suit that I had tailored so it had my name embroidered on an inside pocket.
I read an adventure story for the rest of the evening. It was in World War II set in the Aegean Sea. Coastal guns were blocking a strait the British needed to pass through to rescue some prisoners. Commandos led by the Human Fly, Keith Mallory from New Zealand, climbed the cliffs and destroyed the guns. I felt sorry for Lt. Stevens and thought Panayi's got his just desserts.
Friday was a hard day for everyone we all wanted to start our hiatus. Even Mr. Wayne had a hard time concentrating on his lines. At lunchtime, Mr. Dodge gave up.
“Get out of here you bum. I’ll see those scheduled at the Easterly Ranch a week from Monday. If you don’t have directions to the ranch yet, be sure to get them before you leave.”
Everyone scattered. I had lunch in the commissary. After that, I wandered over to the stunt area. Rod Bell the archery instructor was over at the butts. He had some time, so he agreed to fit my armguard and let me shoot some arrows.
The first thing he did was establish that my right eye was my dominant eye and that I was right-handed. That simplified things as I could use a right-hand bow.
The armguard was like they would have used in medieval times. It wrapped around my whole arm and part of my hand, acting as a finger tab, to protect it while I drew and loosened an arrow. He had several sizes to choose from, so I had a good fit.
Again, he taught me to have my feet standing in line towards the target. Then to place the arrow on the arrow rest, and then nock the arrow, hold the string to an anchor point with three fingers, for me the anchor point was my chin. Next push the bow out and bring the arrow up to the target.
It proved easiest if I bent forward a little and pushed the bow away as I straightened up, putting my back into the push. I could see that after practice I would end up on my aim point in one smooth motion.
I went through the motion several times. Mr. Ball was pleased.
“That is a sixty-pound bow. When drawing it your motions and body strain are exactly what they would be if shooting a one-hundred-and-fifty-pound draw bow. The only difference is about twenty years of practice to build strength.”
I’m a golfer, but I am not an archer. I could hit the target most of the time, but not once did I get the bull's eye, the truth be told I didn’t get any in the second ring either. Mr. Ball told me I had done quite well for a beginner. The important thing I had the style and could shoot an arrow in the movie.
They would cut away from me, while a real archer made the shot. Since it was a movie the archer may not make the shot on the same day, or even in the same state. That was all good but didn’t help my ego. I was so used to being able to do everything it was a little hard to accept that I wasn’t a natural archer.
Mr. Ball must have sensed that because he told me that no one had ever picked up the bow and was immediately an expert. It took years to train an archer for the military. It sounded good but didn’t make me feel better. I tried hard to not come off as pouting.
I did my lifting, after which I went to the gym to see if I could box. No one was there so I hit the bags a little but couldn’t get into it so headed home.
It was the first week of March and the weather was getting nicer, but no one was in the pool yet. I sat out and read some more in a book from the library about the economics of running a business. There was a lot I needed to learn. I could see that there were many university courses in business in my future if I followed my apparent path.
As I closed the book, I realized that it was a library book and it and others in the apartment would be overdue by the time I got back, so I grabbed them all and drove to the library. The library was on the corner of two busy streets. As I was walking out of the parking lot there was an elderly lady with a two-wheeled pull cart full of groceries getting ready to cross the street.
The way she moved she would never get across before the light changed so I offered to help her. She took me up on my offer. When I got her to the other side, she told me, “You know you look a lot like that horrid Rick Jackson.”
“Oh, why is Rick Jackson horrid?” I inquired.
“He said all those awful things about my Paul Grant before he was murdered.”
“You are related to Paul Grant?”
“Oh no, I just loved his TV show.”
“Well, you have a nice day ma’am.”
What can I say?
From the library I went home, showered, and put on fresh clothes for the dinner party at Monroe’s. I was at their door at the appointed time. I had my present for Mr. Monroe in a paper bag. I didn’t have the time or inclination to wrap it. More like the inclination, but I don’t think Mr. Monroe would care.
He didn’t, when he pulled the cigar box out of the bag, his eyes got big.
“Rick, where did you find this?”
I shared the whole story with him.
“Do you realize that this could go for twenty thousand dollars at an auction?”
“Nina told me it was valuable, but you heard how it has been sitting in my closet. My parents didn’t think it was a big deal to give it to someone who would appreciate it.”
“Did they realize how much it is worth?”
“We never discussed it, but we aren’t hard up by any means. Please just accept the gift in the spirit it was given.”
“Okay Rick, but I owe you one. I can’t wait to show this to Darryl Zanuck. He will eat his heart out.”
Nina broke in, “Daddy, I’m making a small down payment on your debt. Rick will be in trouble with his brothers and sister if he doesn’t bring them something from Disneyland. I took the liberty of using your Rolodex and made a phone call to your contact at Disney. He messengered up some items.”
She gave me three wrapped gifts, in Disney paper of course. They were labeled for Denny, Eddie, and Mary.
From their ages, Mr. Dixon sent up a Mickey Mouse watch for Eddie, a tie for Denny with small pictures of Mickey, and for Mary a complete Princess outfit, including a tiara.”
I forgot myself and kissed her right in front of her father. He took it in good stride and told me not to expect a kiss from him for the cigar box! I don’t know which flustered me more, kissing Nina in front of her Dad, or her Dad talking about kissing me.
The other dinner guests began arriving. Among them were Mr. George Burns along with Gracie Allen who had just retired from show business. Milton Berle and one of his wives, I think it was his third but wasn’t sure. Both Mr. Burns and Mr. Berle are cigar smokers so of course, Mr. Monroe was eager to share his new display piece. Mr. Berle offered him thirty thousand dollars on the spot, but it was declined. If it had been me, I might have taken it.
The dinner conversation was interesting with tales of the early days. Nina and I listened without trying to add to this conversation. The adage that children should be seen and not heard came to mind.
After dinner, Nina and I took a walkout to the pool house and necked for a while. After half an hour we heard a door open and a cough, so we took the hint and said good night. I had to get up early for my flight, so it was time for me to leave.
Chapter 7
My flight was early Saturday, so I skipped my running and was ready when the hired car pulled into the drive. I had decided that I didn’t want to leave the T-Bird at LAX for two weeks so asked the studio to call me a car for this morning. Of course, being Hollywood, it was a full stretch limo.
At the airport, the check-in went easy, having a driver take care of your luggage curbside, and then having an airline representative escort you to the Ambassador Club, with your ticket and boarding pass waiting for you, really helped. I could get used to this level of service.
There was the obligatory photo op as I boarded the plane. After I got settled into first-class people started approaching me for my autograph. A stewardess asked several people to wait, till we were in the air to ask me, as it was delaying boarding. No one asked what I thought of all this, but I did the graceful thing and signed away.
The flight was long and boring. There was no one sitting beside me, so I was able to read in peace the whole trip. I was still struggling with the finances of a business. It looked like a lot of work and opportunity at the same time.
By the time I got to Dayton, I was ready for bed. The studio had even arranged for a ride from Dayton to Bellefontaine, though it was only a regular car, a Lincoln, but not a limo. How soon we are spoiled!
Everyone was up and excited when I got home. My gifts, or more rightly Nina’s, were a hit. I confessed how they were obtained; the kids didn’t care but Mum and Dad wanted to know a lot more about Nina.
I told them I was very tired, which was true, putting off the inquisition until tomorrow. One thing had changed, my room was now Mary’s, and I had hers. I knew it was coming, but it was still a bit of a shock. It didn’t keep me awake at all.
Sunday was wonderful. We had a nice family breakfast. I got caught up in all the gossip. Tom and Tracey had broken up. I guess it was considered a week-long tragedy at school. I would have to remember that if I ran into either of them this week.
I did explain my relationship with Nina, just friends working on boy/girlfriend status. I may have dodged the truth on that, but I didn’t want to worry my parents about what may be going on in California, or this case not going on. How do you say to your parents?
“I’m not sleeping with that girl.”
I wimped out and downplayed things. Besides Nina and I had sort of drifted together, we had made no announcements. It just sort of happened.
We talked about American Style a beauty products company. They had come up with the million dollars and agreed to five percent of the selling price on each unit for an exclusive license. So now I was a millionaire. I still couldn’t open a checking account.
Dad updated me on Jackson Housing, the company now owned fifty-two units in five cities. This would give Mum and Dad around a hundred thousand dollars a year in their name. Our family was doing well.
I was surprised about how mature Denny was getting. He acted like a real person. Eddie and Mary were still little kids. I didn’t realize how much I was missing them until I got home. We spent the afternoon doing important things like going over our brackets for the NCAA basketball tournament. I was out of it as I hadn’t read sports magazines while in California.
I favored California to win the championship even though West Virginia had Jerry West playing for them. I didn’t even know who played for California but felt I had to support them because I was now living there.
We also talked about Wednesday’s trip to Detroit for the plant tour on Thursday. Mum and Dad wanted to know all about Anna Romanov and how I had met her. This led to long stories about the dinner party at Monroe’s, and all the guests. Denny about freaked when he heard that I had introduced Paul Anka to Annette. In the teen's circles, it was considered the biggest thing since Romeo and Juliet.
That is how Sunday went. It was wonderful to be at home.
Chapter 8
It was strange waking up at my real home on Monday morning, to add to that I had nothing to do, well almost nothing. The point is I didn’t have to jump out of bed and start moving immediately. I luxuriated for ten minutes but had to get up for the obvious reason. I had to pee.
That started my day. After my morning pushups and sit-ups, I dressed for running. March had come in like a lion in Ohio, but today was mild. I put my five miles in, on my old route up around the airbase and back. Nothing changed. I only was gone for five weeks. It seemed like forever.
In the five weeks, I had completed ninth grade, started to learn how to box, and studied sword fighting, attempted surfing and archery, plus taken up weightlifting. It may be bragging, but I was on my way to becoming a professional actor. If not, I sure had some people fooled.
I was now a millionaire, not on paper, real money. The American Style deal which was for an exclusive license had put me over the top. I hadn’t kept close track, but I was halfway there before this deal. With the percentage on each sale of an adjustable shower head, I would’ve been a millionaire by the end of the year. The money from my movie work was significant in its own right.
By any standard, I was now rich. Why didn’t I feel any change? Maybe I would feel different after my first ten million or a hundred million. I think a billion came next, but I had to check. By the time I had got to this level of stupid thinking, I had completed my run.
There was an interesting statement last night from my Dad.
“I have so much happened this week. You will have to arrange your transportation.”
When I returned home, the family was sitting down for breakfast. Even Mary was up and being her grumpy morning self. Her grumpiness was offset a little by her princess outfit. It is hard for a four-year-old to be grumpy when she is wearing a tiara. We would ignore her until after she had her cereal and watched cartoons for a while.
Everyone else was wide awake. Denny was ready for school. He had on slacks, a blue shirt with a button-down collar, along with a dark-blue sports coat and a Mickey Mouse tie. He looked very preppy.
I told him so, and he smiled and responded. “The girls like the look!”
“I bet they do, have some fun little brother.”
Eddie had to show me he was wearing his watch, so all my gifts had been a hit. Mum was listening to this exchange. I should have known she was paying attention for a reason.
“Last night, you told us that a girl named Nina arranged for the gifts.”
It was easier to tell her about how I had met her, and that we had several dates, but nothing serious.
“What do you mean by serious Rick?”
“We haven’t said we are exclusive, and we have only kissed several times.”
“Where does she live?”
I swear she was trained as a professional interrogator. If I didn’t answer all this, there would be bright lights and rubber hoses. Not really, but mum didn’t give up once she got going.
That worked out because it gave me the opening to talk about Mr. Monroe and his position at Warner Brothers, his house, the parties, and the people I had met. Again, Denny was amazed by my introduction to Annette and Paul Anka. He told me I was stupid. I should have kept her for myself.
Before I could give a reply, which would get me into trouble Dad looked at his watch and told the boys it was time for them to leave for school.
After they left, my parents and I had a much more casual chat, over coffee. Dad gave me a detailed update, on Jackson Housing. There were now five offices, one in Bellefontaine, Kenton, Urbana, Saint Mary’s, and Wapakoneta. Each office had a Manager for the rentals and two handymen for upkeep on the apartments.
Dad had arrangements with real estate brokers in each town to scout properties out for him. He even had to expand the office in Bellefontaine as a headquarters. He rented the floor above as his business office. The staff was comprised of a bookkeeper and secretary. He was considering adding a purchasing agent to make deals with the local supply houses as the company was buying many materials to update the houses.
He was now thinking of further expansion beyond these cities. It looked like my Dad was going to end up a millionaire in his own right. That did give me pause for thought.
“Mum and Dad, the company is set up that I will inherit it because it was my seed money that started it. I’ve enough money that I would never have to work again in my life. I think you should restructure the company so that the other kids have an interest.”
Mum and Dad glanced at each other.
“Rick, you must have read our minds. We were going to offer you a buyout or some sort of deal, so we could do exactly that.”
“That’s settled, just include us all equally, and it’s done.”
“I’ll do that Rick, at the same time. Eugene Burke has recommended that we make Jackson Housing a holding company and have each office in the various cities’ separate companies. That way if there is a problem in one area we aren’t ruined completely.”
“That makes sense. I should do that with the showerhead, my acting career, and the hairdryer. Have Richard Jackson Enterprises own three separate companies. I think I will talk to Mr. Burke about that while I’m downtown.”
“That brings up another issue, transportation. Unless you have objections, I would like to buy a car for use in Bellefontaine. Mum could use it when I’m not here.”
“What are you thinking of Rick,” asked Mum?
“I would like another T-Bird. I love that car.”
Dad laughed and held out his hand to Mum, “You owe me a dollar.”
She got her purse and grudgingly paid Dad, “I felt sure you would ask for a Corvette.”
“It’s a nice car Mum, but for some reason, I just love the T-Bird.”
“Rick, it’s your money and you have a lot of it, why not enjoy it. That does bring up a more serious question.
“Where should your money be? Right now, it is in the bank drawing a little interest. It should be invested in something more profitable.”
“I’ve no idea how to do that.”
“I don’t either. We have to see Eugene Burke. I’ll call him to see when he is available, and maybe he can help us.”
Dad made the phone call and was lucky enough to catch Mr. Burke as he opened his office for the week. He told Dad that if we could come down right away, he had time this morning, after that he was tied up for the week.
I did have time for a quick shower. I pointed out to Mum as we were leaving that my hair was dry so, “I won’t catch my death.”
She muttered something about, “Maybe I did the wrong one.” Whatever she meant by that.
At the attorney's office, Mr. Burke explained what had to be done to separate my businesses. He thought it an excellent idea for two reasons. The first was that it would protect my business ventures from each other.
He stopped so I had to ask, “What is the second reason?”
“I’ll get to charge you a lot of money for doing it.”
After I was done groaning, he explained what it would cost. It wasn’t that much. There would be Jackson Productions, Jackson Home Products, and Jackson Personal Products all wholly-owned subsidiaries of Jackson Enterprises. For a mere fifteen hundred dollars, he would handle everything. That wasn’t a bad deal for all the filings he would have to do with the state and county.
He even went further and explained that Jackson Enterprises would be set up as a State of Delaware registered company for tax purposes. He asked me who my accountant was. I looked at Dad desperately. It was like the ground had opened up under me. I was lost.
“I don’t have one.”
“Rick, you should hire a firm as quickly as you can. Your cash flow from what I can see must be enormous. If you don’t get an accounting firm busy, you will owe more taxes than you believe. You need to be able to write off all your California expenses to start with. I know you hired Engineering help with your hairdryer project. That can all be written off.”
“Who would you suggest?”
“Locally, Grimes Accounting is considered the best both father and son, are CPAs. If you want, I can call Robert Sr. and see if he or Jr. has time for you today.”
“That would be appreciated, but before you call is there a stockbroker in town that you recommend,” asked Dad.
“There is no question there, the national firm, James Daniels was founded right here in Bellefontaine. Their local manager is Bill Schwab.”
Both Dad and I told Mr. Burke that we wanted to proceed with the companies, the accountants, and the broker. When I woke up this morning, I had nothing to do!
Mr. Burke made the calls and told us we were welcome anytime this morning. We thanked him for all his help and made our way to the accounting firm. Robert Jr. was available. Robert Jr. must have been sixty. I would like to meet Robert Sr. During our talks, Robert 3rd sat in, while we were served coffee by the 3rd’s daughter Roberta. Talk about your family business!
Roberta was pretty, but she was also about twenty-five years old. Dad and I both explained our needs. Robert Jr. laughed and asked us when we could bring our shoeboxes full of receipts. Dad took a little umbrage at that, his bookkeeper kept good files in his office.
After Junior made peace with Dad, I told him, “I will have to buy a pair of shoes.”
“Why is that?”
“So, I will have a shoebox to keep my receipts in. Right now, they are lying on my desk in my apartment.”
“Just bring them down later today, and we will start sorting them out.”
“Uh, my apartment is in Burbank, California.”
“I thought so,” broke in Roberta, “Grandpa. This is the actor Ricky Jackson.”
“Humph, I haven’t seen any of your work.”
“Sir, I’m not surprised. My first movie with John Wayne will be released this summer.”
That changed everything. I dropped the right name. Mr. Wayne was a hero to the entire Grimes family. Dad and I described how our businesses were going to be set up. Notes were taken like crazy. We both permitted them to contact Mr. Burke and would let him know that he was to share our company’s information as they were established.
Suddenly, it was lunchtime! The morning passed quickly. Dad and I went to Isley’s for a quick sandwich. At one o'clock, we were at the brokers.
After going over all the options, it looked like I would be a stockholder, in what they called blue-chip companies, such as Coca-Cola and IBM. There would also be some long-term U.S. Treasuries in my portfolio. Who would have thought that when I woke up this morning, I would have a portfolio?
I would keep ten thousand in a checking account and one hundred thousand in short-term bonds that could convert to cash quickly. In our conversation with Mr. Schwab, we told him about our new companies being formed. He asked who was handling these. He had praise for Mr. Burke and thought the Grimes was the best accountants in the area. He also wanted to know who was handling our business insurance.
I’ve got to give it to Dad. He is cool under fire.
He asked, “We have been looking around, do you recommend anyone?”
“Well, I have a bias, but I think the State Granger Agency is the best, you should know it is my brother who runs it.”
“We will check them out,” Dad replied.
We walked across the street to the State Granger office. You have to love small towns. John Schwab welcomed us with open arms. When we told of our needs his eyes got as big as the moon.
“You both need a Business Owner’s Policy; it will cover business interruption, general liability, crime, vehicle, and property. If you have employees will you be providing health care? What about individual life policies on yourselves?”
What I thought would be a fifteen-minute stop, turned into two hours. I hated this use of my time, while on hiatus, I shudder to think of what could happen if these issues weren’t covered. Both my Dad and I felt we had dodged a big bullet today.
Maybe my Uncle Gene, who ran a dry cleaner, might have told us of these issues, no one else in the family had ever owned a business, at least any that were in contact. It gave me a little insight as to how Doctor's children, became Doctors so often, or racecar drivers’ kids ended up doing the same. You were born into it, not genetically but by heritage.
It was now almost four o'clock, but we had one more stop to make. I thought we would have been to the Ford Dealer by nine this morning. It didn’t matter what time we showed up. They were ready to sell a car. It was easy. We walked in. I pointed at the red T-Bird convertible on the showroom floor and said, “This one.”
They wanted me to test drive it and show me all the features. Since it was identical to my California car, I ended up showing the salesman how to raise and lower the roof. There was one surprise, the engine was a 352ci. I don’t know where I got it wrong. I thought it was a 356ci. I’m glad I got that important point straight. I would’ve had to turn in my teenage motorhead card.
They wanted to wheel and deal. I told them what I would give exactly what I had paid for the identical car in California. This nonplused the salesman and his manager when they found out I would own a car here and in California. The manager groaned a little but went with it. They promised the car would be prepped and ready for delivery by six o’clock, right after dinner.
We went home, had dinner, and returned by six o’clock. Wonder of wonders the car was ready. Dad had written the check, and they had walked it over to the bank, and it had cleared already. You have to love small towns.
I followed Dad home in my new car. It was weird. The car was identical to the one I had in California. The only difference I could tell was this one still had the new-car smell.
Denny, Eddie, and even Mum and Mary were at the door when I arrived at the house. They immediately had to have a ride. I took Mum and Mary first, next Denny and Eddie. We could have all squeezed in if Mary sat on Mum’s lap, but we didn’t want to do that.
Of course, we had the top down, windows up, and heater on full blast. Mum and Mary were happy with a short ride around the block. Denny and Eddie had to go downtown and out through the pizza drive-through to show off. It was cold enough that no one was out.
I was looking forward to going to the High School tomorrow morning to check that my California records had arrived. I could go to the office at any time of the day. I decided to go when everyone was arriving. I would like to see my old friends. It’s not like I wanted to show off my car or anything. Well, maybe just a little.
I started a book, but I couldn’t finish it. Malachi Constant was about as stupid as a rock. Rumfoord’s being in a chrono-synclastic infundibulum was interesting, but as a character, he was hopeless. I suppose the author was trying to make a point, by the time I gave up, I was ready to give him the point of my sword.
Chapter 9
Tuesday I was up at the seven-thirty local time, it felt like four-thirty to me. After my morning exercises and run I took a shower and dressed in what I thought of as my California uniform, slacks, loafers, golf shirt, and sport coat. The shirt was yellow as it showed off my tan. Oh, vanity is thy name.
At breakfast, Eddie and Mary ignored my dress. You could see Denny eying me for fashion ideas. Mum thought I looked nice.
Dad was the only honest one there, “Hey showboat, looking good.”
I had to grin at that, he had nailed it.
“Hey Dad, did you ever call that William Rowland?”
“I did,” he replied.
“What was it all about?”
“That note has been there in one form or another for eighty years. There was a family split around 1900 and they lost track of many members. The only thing they had going was a deed that all the senior members of the family had a copy of. The deed had been hidden for a while behind Pio Pico’s grave, so they left the box with the note in it. They figured that as various family members found it, they could reestablish contact. I called and have been invited to join the La Puente Valley Historical Society, which is undertaking to restore both houses. Most members are related, to one of the two families, so it is a way to bring them together.”
“Are you joining?”
“I think so. Bill Rowland is sending me the application. When you get beyond my brothers, I don’t have many relatives. It would be nice to meet someone with common roots.”
“I guess so.”
“By the way Rick, don’t let your head swell too much when you go to school.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your success is so far beyond what most of those kids will ever have in their lives. Don’t think that makes you better than them.”
“I know I’m not better than them Dad.”
“Just don’t get caught up in the moment and damage your friendships.”
As I drove to school listening to “Venus” by Frankie Avalon on the radio, I thought about what Dad had said. I pulled over and raised the T-Birds roof. Dad was right; it would be easy to put down my friends. I didn’t need the ragtop down for them to know it is a convertible. That would be rubbing it in their faces. The car would speak for itself.
I had planned to be reserved when I went into the building, waiting to see how I was received. I now was going to be open and greet my friends like people I hadn’t seen for a while I wouldn’t be silly about it; I would just act as I had gone on a little vacation and nothing had changed.
That lasted until I was in the parking lot. Kids were eyeing my car as I pulled in. When I got out anyone who claimed to know me, which was most of the school came over to check it out. The guys were checking the T-Bird. The girls split between me and the car.
It was so obvious it was almost funny. I answered the guy’s questions about the car. “Yes, it’s a 352 cubic inch engine. It can go over a hundred, but I haven’t tried it yet.”
Boy was I glad the salesman had straightened me out on the engine displacement.
“Hey Rick,” Tom Humphreys started, “You act like you know all about the car, but the sticker is still on the rear window.”
I wasn’t thinking when I replied, “It is identical to the one I drive in California.”
That threw the proverbial cat among the pigeons.
“That’s another thing; you aren’t old enough for a driver’s license.”