by Ed Nelson
Things went well on air at first. Mr. Paar made me feel very comfortable. He talked to me like an adult. He asked the predicated questions and I gave the preplanned answers. Then he hit me with.
“Earlier today in an interview Paul Grant described you as a thug who has killed people. While he is a professional actor with a bad boy image you are just bad.”
My defense is that I’m fifteen for what I said in reply.
“Mr. Grant says he has a bad boy image. In fact he has a bad actor image.”
“By bad actor image do you mean he doesn’t act well or that he treats people badly?”
“Yes.”
The timing was perfect, before anything else could be said the show cut away for a break. During the break I left the set. My interview had only been for the time slot before the break so I was done.
Mr. Pearson was actually a happy camper. My response would up the stakes in the ‘feud.’ I didn’t think there was a feud or wanted one, but he thought it would give the movie publicity which was the name of the game.
When we got back to the studio I called home to let Mum and Dad know that I would be on the Tonight Show later today. She wanted to know how it went. I told her it was fine, but got a little dicey at the end. I didn’t give her anymore details which frustrated her, but I told her to wait, it was worth it.
They called back later and were supportive. No one was going to call their son a thug. Dad said I should punch him in the nose. Mum said she had access to Baratol if I was serious. I had no idea what that was but it sounded dangerous. I fell asleep wondering what the next few days would bring.
Chapter 36
I found out how the next few days would go the next morning when I left the apartment to run at five o’clock. There was a reporter waiting at my front door. That interview was easy to handle, I just started running and didn’t stop. When I returned home there were five of them at the door. I gave up.
I told them, “Come on in, one of you put coffee on while I take a shower.”
There were three men and two women. It was one of the guys that made the coffee.
Needless to say I rushed through my shower and dried my hair using my prototype hairdryer. The women were curious about the noise from the bathroom when I came out, so I showed it to them. They about freaked when they realized what it was, and that I had patents applied for.
At this point I had decided not to fight it. Be honest and see where it went. Actually it went well when they realized they didn’t have to badger me to get answers. They all gave me a business card that showed they were for real. Well one might argue about the tabloid that was represented.
Two of them had really done some homework. They had read up on my previous achievements, however notable they were. The guy from the tabloid was very open. He needed something that was either scandalous or newsworthy in a blow your mind kind of way.
I replied, “Well I don’t think my godmother will be real happy about all of this.”
I then went to my desk and pulled out my Eagle Scout presentation letter from the Queen. Before I showed it to him I asked the others if they could give him some lead time on this part of the story. You could tell they weren’t enthusiastic about it, but as one of them said.
“I’ve never seen such openness before. You know this could do you in.”
“I know but I will be hounded until all this comes out, I figure the sooner it does the sooner things will settle down.”
“You’re wrong, this is going to make you more newsworthy than ever. Others will chase you to the ends of the earth.”
“If I give you guys access will you advise me on how to handle things. I realize that it won’t be perfect but I really am a novice at this.”
“Sure and I’m the Queen of England,” said one of the women.
This set the man from the tabloid giggling. Yes giggling.
He said, “This is too good not to share.”
Then he handed her the card Queen Elizabeth had sent me.
“Oh my god,” the woman shrieked. “Yes I will work with you.”
She was the first but all five agreed to answer questions and give me advice if I would take their calls.
Sitting at my kitchen table drinking coffee they each came up with their story. The tabloid would have the most depth which helped him because his deadline was further out. The others wanted something that day. It was kind of cool when they borrowed my typewriter and started editing each other’s stories. I was sworn to secrecy for if their bosses found out there would be trouble.
As one of the women put it, “They will wonder who I was sleeping with to get such clean copy.”
When I laughed she really blushed, “Oh lord, you’re just a kid, I forgot!”
They all agreed that Grant would have something not nice to say in reply to my performance on the Tonight Show. They agreed my timing was impeccable. When I shared that it was more by accident than plan they all took it as inside information.
One of the women looked thoughtful. She asked me, “If Elizabeth is your godmother, who is your godfather.”
My answer almost brought the roof down. I made a point of telling the whole story then of how Mum was with Elizabeth in World War II as a helper on the ambulance and how things snowballed. That I had never actually met either Her Majesty or the President and didn’t think it would be fair to imply a connection that wasn’t there.
My press corps didn’t want to let it go that easy. They played with the story and twisted it slightly so that it appeared Paul Grant had no idea that he was dealing with the Head of State of two powerful nations. There was nothing untrue but I would hate to be Grant when he read it.
They advised me to take the rest of the day staying away from everyone, maybe a drive down the Pacific highway. That way they could beat the competition with their stories. The lady from Variety and the man from the Los Angeles Examiner both had early deadlines so they wanted to get right on it.
I took their advice and made a day of it driving south. I made it clear to Malibu for a late lunch out on the veranda of an old hotel on the beach. It was nice. No one recognized me but I realized that wouldn’t last.
The next morning I picked up the Los Angeles Examiner on the way back from my run. When I got home there was even a TV crew set up outside of my apartment. They didn’t see me approach so I knocked on Wyman’s door. Dick and Janice thought it was all fun and games. I was getting publicity; that was the name of the game in Hollywood.
I read the paper while Janice was fixing bacon and eggs. If the other reporters treated me like this one I had it made. If you could read the whole article without throwing up you would find that I was handsome, a brilliant inventor, savior of women and children, a professional actor, golfer and bull rider, and that I had connections with the most powerful people in the world.
I admired the fact that the reporter didn’t step on the tabloid expose. I shared it all with Dick and Janice.
They looked at each other and went, “Wow.”
Janice brought up an interesting point, “As long as you live in that apartment they will be at your door. You’re going to have to buy a house soon.”
“I will only be here for five or six more weeks,” I replied.
Dick went, “Dream on. You would have to be the worst actor in the world before you wouldn’t get jobs with your resume.”
We sat and talked for a while, and then I had a thought. I called George Weaver at his home number and gave him the whole story. One had to take care of those that had been there at the beginning. He had heard about the Tonight Show and was wondering how he could get a hold of me. I didn’t tell him about the arrangement with the other reporters.
Janice kept an eye out and when the TV truck and reporters got tired of waiting I made a dash to my apartment for a quick shower and shave. I then called home and updated Mum and Dad. Dad advised me to keep low. Mum told me that she had a Sterling that might be useful. I had no idea of how sterling silver would be of
use in this situation so ignored her comment.
I took my longest drive to date, going out to Cucamonga, of Jack Benny fame. It was forty miles from Burbank so it took me most of the day to get there and back with stops for lunch and dinner.
Lunch was interesting because two young ladies in the next booth were arguing the merits of Paul Grant and Ricky Jackson. They agreed that Grant was being a jerk but that he still was dreamy. I was too young, but they wouldn’t kick me out of bed for eating crackers.
That came under the heading of too much information, so I left there as quickly as I could.
When I returned to my apartment I was unlocking my door when I was grabbed from behind.
Someone said, “Paul says hello.”
They then proceeded to knock me around. They didn’t do real damage other than bruised ribs. They left my face alone. If it wasn’t me on the receiving end I would have appreciated their artistry.
It was a shame I wasn’t further along on my boxing lessons. I decided I was going to get very serious about self-defense. Also buying a gated house looked better and better. I would like to say they ran away from me. The fact is after pounding on my ribs they strolled away.
After one final kick in the ribs, one of them said to the other, “Boots, he’s not so tough after all.”
I was panting hard and in pain. I made it to my bathroom, took four aspirin and went to bed.
As I lay there I thought about calling the police, but wouldn’t even have a description of my attackers. I didn’t even know for certain they were from Paul Grant though they probably were.
Chapter 37
When I woke Monday I was a mass of bruises, all on my chest and back. It hurt to move. I took some more aspirin and tried to do my workout but couldn’t do it. Instead I took a long hot shower. I called Dick Wyman and asked him to come over, we needed to talk.
I left my shirt off so when he showed up he could see the problem.
I explained what happened, “Two guys ambushed me at the door as I was unlocking it.
They said, “Hello from Paul Grant” then kicked the crap out of me.
He wanted to know if I had called the Police.
“And tell them what, that I was assaulted by two unknowns.”
“You need to get this on record. Have you called your parents?”
“Not yet.”
Dick used my phone and called my house. Mum answered and he gave her the details. She asked to speak to me. When I told her that I was okay except for being sore all over she told me to take it easy for the day. I had expected her to be upset instead she was very cold and factual about the whole event.
She then asked to speak to Dick again. They talked for a while, he recommended that I rent or buy a house in a gated community that would give me some protection.
When he hung up he told me, “Your Mom has asked Janice and me to help you find a new place to live.”
“Okay, I understand that I really do need security right now.”
Dick asked me what my plans were for the day. “Right now I’m going to see if I can run some of this off, I don’t want to tighten up any more than I am.”
So we did our morning run at the high school. I made the distance in about twice the time. but it did feel better the more I went. At home I was able to do pushups. but the sit ups were beyond me.
Fortunately my scenes didn’t include any action. We did our walk throughs. I was spending less time with my voice coach all the time. I was getting better at delivering lines. I wasn’t ready for Shakespeare but I could do a conversation on film in a normal manner.
I had to take more aspirin half way through the morning. Ellen and her mother noticed I winced several times. I told them I had a little problem with a horse. This happened regularly on set so it was no big deal.
After lunch I went over to Hollywood High. This was my second week of lab work there. One more and I would be on a full time shooting schedule.
Nina and I had fun in the lab, there was nothing gooey to cut up, we just had to organize our notes and prepare a presentation on how nervous systems worked. She told me that she had shared my “from Paris” remarks with her girlfriends. That was why so many girls had looked in last Friday. They thought I was romantic.
Actually this was high praise from a critical audience. These kids had been living with movie lines all their life. Later I found out that one of the girls shared the whole line with her father, a writer and it made it into a movie.
Nina wanted to know my plans for the weekend. When I told her I didn’t have any she asked me if I wanted to join a group surfing down by the Santa Monica pier.
“Sure that sounds like fun, though I haven’t ever surfed. I had a problem with a stunt and I’m stiff and bruised but think I will be okay by the weekend.”
“You will enjoy it. I will borrow one of my dad’s lighter boards for you. I think we have a wet suit that will fit you. I think half the actors and stuntmen in Hollywood are bruised at one time or the other.”
After class I returned to the studio, checking up on the shooting which was proceeding on schedule. From there I went to the stunt area and did my sword exercises. I found that I couldn’t do the moves, but could hold the swords out with both hands. The weights were about half and half, some I could do, some I couldn’t.
I went over to the boxing area and talked to the trainer, Mr. Palmer. I told him I was assaulted last night. I didn’t bring Grants name into it. After looking at my bruises he told me that I had been worked over by professionals, lots of bruises but no permanent damage. He agreed that I should skip practice today and try again tomorrow.
I was feeling pretty tired by then so I went back to my apartment earlier than usual. I picked up a LA Examiner from the box on the corner. Since it was a nice sunny day I took a Coke down by the pool and read the paper.
The Entertainment news section had a quote from Paul Grant, when asked about my comments on Jack Paar’s show, he replied.
“That punk will get what’s coming to him one of these days soon.”
The paper continued that he was in New York for a fashion show where a new line of teen clothes in his name was being debuted. They made a big deal about the show this evening, which was apparently at one of the better fashion houses. They gave all the details of when and where as if people would want to go. The fashion house name meant nothing to me.
I think maybe that day Grant referred to had already arrived. I tried to think of something I could do, but couldn’t think of anything legal. Anything illegal would cause me more problems than it was worth. I would have to suck it up until a chance presented itself.
I fixed dinner at home and spent the evening studying. By ten o’clock I was very tired and went to sleep without reading.
Tuesday was better, but I was still stiff and sore. I was able to do all my pushups and half my sit ups. By the time I finished my run I had loosened up enough that I knew I would get through the day okay. Sore, but okay.
I checked out my body in the mirror after my shower as expected it was ugly. The bruises had started to change color, by tomorrow I would be in Technicolor. I think I’ve been in show business too long already.
Dick questioned me when we ran about how I felt. The fact that I could do the run must have reassured him. He still thought I should file a police report, but for some reason I didn’t think that was a good idea.
I didn’t want to create a link to Paul Grant and violence. It wasn’t logical, but Mum had always told me if I felt strongly about something that I should pay attention to those feelings.
At the studio I was cornered by Mr. Wayne. He asked me how I was doing. I wasn’t surprised that he knew what had happened.
“Dick told me you didn’t want to file a police report,” he started.
“Mr. Wayne I couldn’t describe my assailants other than the fact someone beat me up professionally, what do I have to go on? Besides I don’t want to build this up in the press because if it wasn’t Grant an
d his people it might encourage other copycats.”
“Well you have a point there, what do you intend to do?”
“I don’t know right now, but I will think of something if I can be certain it was Grant and company. I don’t get mad, I get even.”
“I like to get mad and even,” he said with that trademark grin of his.
We both laughed and went to work. Considering everything the scenes went well. Ellen and I clicked on screen. Our romance in the movie was to form a deep attachment which wouldn’t be concluded in this movie.
To her at first I was a brat, then not a brat, then a friend, and then more than a friend. In the movie my progression was similar, but to keep some tension in the relationship we changed our view of the other unevenly. In other words it was your standard Hollywood movie romance.
The real Ellen and I were friendly on the set, but didn’t go out of our way to be with each other. The age difference worked against us and strange as it seems she held me in a little awe. If I had let her she would’ve called me Mr. Jackson.
I received a note around ten o’clock to call my Dad at home. That was alarming. I had talked to them not that long ago. I hurried over to the office in a break between scenes.
Dad answered the phone and let me know that Mum was on her way to England. Her Mum had taken very ill. He was short on details of how ill. Mum had received the call while he was out.
She had called him at the office and had hired a cab to take her to the Dayton Airport. From Dayton she would fly to New York where she had a twelve hour layover before changing airlines at Idlewild airport to fly to London. She had left a note telling Dad that it was difficult to get a seat on a plane, so she had to take what she could.
I went back to the set. I had a Spanish book on sentence structure I was studying. That was probably my weakest area. Since I wasn’t part of this scene I worked quietly. Ellen was having an argument with her Dad the ranch foreman.
It was about Sir Nicklaus. It was funny hearing her praise me while in the next scene after this she would be giving me a hard time because I was stuck up.