I asked Dolan if it would be possible to speak to his reporter friend about the 1936 bank robbery – ‘for the purposes of verisimilitude in the costumes’, Edith amended – and he said he’d try to put us together. Edith and I let him return to work.
‘Mr Fentress’s original story might shed light on his sources,’ she said as we walked back toward her office.
‘Interesting to learn Sylvia works at Central Casting. Nap Conlin mentioned he was registered there.’
‘So is every extra in Hollywood, in their multitudes. Which is how Mr DeMille typically requests them. I wouldn’t attach any significance to that fact.’
‘You have to admit it’s an interesting coincidence.’
‘And likely that’s all it is.’ Edith examined me as if I were a child insisting I had a fever on a school morning. ‘You heard Detective Frady. Mr Conlin led a harsh life replete with unsavory characters. He met his end in a rather squalid environment. His murder is, in all probability, unrelated to the production of this film.’
What she said made complete sense, and I told her so. I just left out that I didn’t believe her.
‘THE BIG STEAL’
Story by
Clyde Fentress
Property of Paramount Pictures
THE ACTION OPENS in a SMALL BANK. A SQUIRRELLY MAN enters, wipes the sweat from his face, and looks around. No one pays him any mind, least of all two fellows in the corner, EDDIE LAWRENCE and JIM MORRIS, kitted out for a fishing trip. They josh with each other, Jim clearly a good-time Charlie always up for a laugh. The squirrelly man goes to a teller window and draws a gun. Before he can finish saying ‘THIS IS A ROBBERY’, Eddie and Jim nab him. They’re police detectives, and they have been lying in wait.
LATER, Eddie and Jim leave the police station. Jim is happy with the day’s work, but Eddie says Jim’s tip wasn’t so hot because the fellow they arrested isn’t part of the gang they’re after. Jim asks how he knows this. Eddie says it’s because the gang knocked over a bank that very afternoon on the other side of town. Jim shrugs and says they did the best they could. Besides, they have a date to fill up on chow mein like they did in the old days.
Eddie and Jim meet ARLENE, Eddie’s wife, at the restaurant. Jim and Arlene try to buck Eddie up but he is having none of it. Jim says the old carnival has returned to town for the season. It comes out Jim and Arlene were childhood sweethearts and he used to bring her to that carnival. He reminds her about a token he won that he didn’t turn in for a prize because he was saving it to win her heart. Then he introduced her to Eddie, and she married him instead. His two best friends together. Eddie grumbles about hearing the sappy story again. Jim suggests they go to the carnival for old times’ sake, but Arlene reminds Eddie he promised to take her dancing.
Eddie and Arlene in a shabby dance hall. Arlene says if he took the job her father offered him they could go somewhere better, but Eddie wants to stay a cop.
Jim goes home. He has an evening paper. The successful robbery is the banner headline, the one they foiled below the fold. Jim opens a drawer and fishes out a carnival token. He still has his little keepsake. He then telephones a girl to ask her out.
CUT TO ANOTHER BANK ROBBERY. The hoods pulling it are vicious and quick. One of them walks out of the bank with a limp.
A WITNESS reports one of the bandits had a limp. Eddie says it could be LEFTY HERMAN. Eddie and Jim split up to look for him.
Lefty Herman limps down the street to his apartment. Inside, he finds Jim waiting. Lefty is relieved – BECAUSE JIM IS HIS PARTNER. Lefty gives Jim his share of the robbery money. Lefty’s little boy comes into the room, but his father shoos him away. Jim watches the boy go and tells Lefty to get out of town for a while with the kid.
Eddie is frustrated because it looks like Lefty has taken a powder. Jim says he can’t find him either, but has a new lead.
In a dive (‘disreputable’) bar, Jim buys a drink for PETERS who is quite the rumpot. Jim gives Peters some money and says there will be more for him when he gets out if he does exactly as Jim tells him. First, walk into the bank with a limp …
Peters limps into a bank and is arrested at once. In the police station, he tells Eddie and Jim he robbed all the other banks. The POLICE CAPTAIN is very happy with the confession. Eddie is not.
Eddie, Arlene, and Jim go to dinner. It’s supposed to be a celebration but Eddie is in a mood. He goes to use the telephone, leaving Arlene alone with Jim. Jim says he could use a woman like her and he wishes they would have stayed together. Arlene is flattered and says the right girl is out there somewhere. Jim says the right girl is looking at him now.
Eddie returns to the table, in a good mood at last. His horse won the eighth race and one of his informers told him where he might find Lefty Herman. He asks Jim to come with him. Jim says he’s off the clock and would rather see the lady home. Eddie rushes out. Arlene’s feelings are clearly hurt. Jim goes to settle the bill, but first he ducks into a telephone booth and calls Lefty, telling him to get out—
Eddie paces outside an apartment house. He has just missed Lefty and is angry. Lefty watches from an alley across the street, holding his little boy’s hand.
Jim brings Arlene home. She is upset when she sees the door to their house open. Jim goes inside and finds no one. Arlene is embarrassed to admit the lock is broken and they cannot afford to fix it. She says they need money. Jim tells her she needs someone who can take care of her. He shows her the carnival token he has saved all these years. Arlene is distressed and asks Jim to leave.
Jim meets Eddie at the police station and says he has a new lead. He brings in SLEEPY RIORDAN, so-called because of a drooping eye. Sleepy tells them he has heard about the Lefty Herman gang’s next robbery. When Sleepy steals a look at Jim, Jim gives a secret nod back – BECAUSE THIS IS A SET-UP. Eddie and Jim make plans to watch the bank.
Jim meets with Lefty Herman and a gunsel named NOLAN. Lefty’s son is there and wants to play cops and robbers. Lefty sends the boy away but keeps the tiny police badge he gives him. Jim tells the men to be ready to come out of the bank with their guns blazing.
The robbery takes place. When Lefty and Nolan come out, there is a CLOSE-UP SHOT of Jim firing his gun into the air. Shots fly from all directions. Nolan is able to escape with the money. Lefty and Eddie shoot each other. Eddie dies in Jim’s arms after making Jim promise to look after Arlene. Lefty also dies. Tumbling out of his pocket is the tiny police badge his son gave him. Jim kicks it into the gutter, not wanting to be reminded of the little boy he has just orphaned.
LATER, Jim escorts Arlene home from Eddie’s funeral. The lock on the front door is still broken. Jim tells Arlene they should both leave, and start over together in a place where no one knows them. He says, ‘We will remember Eddie and sometimes we will forget him, and that will be OK, too.’ She tells him no but Jim is very persuasive. She is thinking about the idea.
The captain tells Jim he is off the case, but not to worry because they are close to finding Nolan and the loot.
Jim meets in secret with Nolan to split the money. Jim shoots Nolan, takes all the swag, and leaves. But Nolan is not quite dead. He drags himself to a telephone.
Jim stashes the money in his car and picks up Arlene. He suggests they go to the carnival for old times’ sake.
As they walk along the midway, they are spotted by a beat cop.
Jim and Arlene walk through the carnival together. Arlene rests her head against Jim’s shoulder. He smiles, because he is winning her over. He notices a cop watching them. Then another. And another.
Knowing the jig is up, Jim turns on Arlene. He is cruel to her and says he does not want to be with her after she has been with Eddie. She begins to cry and he laughs at her. Arlene runs away. Jim runs in the opposite direction with the police officers in hot pursuit.
With no place else to go, Jim flees into an office building. The officers chase him upstairs. He fires his gun at them until it is empty. Not wanting to be captured, he
takes the coward’s way out and jumps from a window, falling to his death.
Outside, the police captain finds the robbery money in Jim’s car. He consoles Arlene and shields her from the sight of Jim’s mangled body. But Arlene can still see the old carnival token that has fallen from Jim’s hand. She picks it up and pockets it, the only souvenir she has of the two men in her life who are now both gone.
THE END
Property of Paramount Pictures
ELEVEN
Fentress’s story moved, I had to admit that. Its coal-black heart kept a lively tempo.
Aside from that, I hated it. Even more than the screenplay it spawned.
Here, Gene’s proxy was an out-and-out devil, rendering children fatherless and turning wives into widows. If Paramount needed to pad the running time, he could always kick a few dogs and push a kindly old woman down a well.
Plus Fentress had taken pains to highlight that the character of Jim had chosen ‘the coward’s way out.’ A fitting fictional fate given Jim’s inspiration had, by Fentress’s lights, gotten away with murder.
My head throbbed. I belatedly realized it had been throbbing for days.
I could understand why the story had been substantially revised; Fentress could curse George Dolan until the air turned a lovely shade of blue, but the ex-newspaperman had done the job Paramount wanted, and done it well. The Motion Picture Production Code, rigorously enforced since 1933, would never permit a criminal to evade the hand of justice via suicide. By altering the particulars and adding ludicrous twists of plot, Dolan had done Fentress a great favor. He’d also caused me – and Gene, and Abigail – no end of woe.
But most importantly, in the original story Nap Conlin had a featured supporting turn. Sleepy Riordan was undoubtedly based on him; he had to be. Fentress had set down what he claimed was the definitive version of events. In it, Nap played a role in setting up Teddy’s murder.
Was that part of the story true? Was it why Nap had sought to see Fentress? Was it why he’d been killed?
The recesses of my brain murmured other questions: If it is true, is the rest of the story true as well? Could Gene truly be guilty?
The headache intensified, spreading into my eyes. At least Paramount had made Fentress change his title. I should have known he’d never have christened a script Streetlight Story.
I read the story twice on the brief ride to Western Avenue and Hollywood Boulevard, where Rogers piloted Addison’s Cadillac Fleetwood to the curb. I gazed up at a four-story sandstone structure, concrete landings for the fire escapes protruding from each floor. The balconies were bedecked with bas-relief sculptures depicting the making of motion pictures, a director in a canvas chair issuing instructions into a megaphone. It didn’t escape my notice that the members of his acting company were, ahem, unclothed. They were nude in the classical tradition – one even wielded a spear – but nude nonetheless.
What better decoration for the building that housed Central Casting, employer of Sylvia Ward? I wanted to speak to her, and again had to hope Fentress had not yet blackened my name. Dismissing the surly Rogers for the day, I ventured inside.
A directory indicated Central Casting was on the third floor; to my surprise I discovered the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America, enforcers of the Production Code, could be found on four. Maybe if I tipped off Joseph Breen about the au naturel adornments on the edifice, he’d return the favor and lower the boom on Streetlight Story for moral reasons.
The lobby was thronged despite the late afternoon hour. Cowboys in full western regalia loitered as if expecting to be summoned to a posse. Women lined the hallway leading to the elevators, their dresses well-kept but slightly dated. Thinking me a casting agent, many bravely made eye contact, their bright smiles a dam against their desperation. One hopeful in faded gingham bustled over, the infant in her arms wearing an immaculate sailor suit and a colicky expression. ‘Looking for babies today, ma’am?’ Her voice had the high, flat tones of someone who’d stopped expecting to be heard over the horde. ‘She’s real talented. Cries on cue.’ Proving the point, the child uncorked a full-throated wail. I shook my head and stumbled into the sanctuary of the elevator. The action never stopped in the Hollywood & Western Building: dramatic dreams dashed on three, artistic visions nibbled to nothing on four.
Central Casting’s door was heavy and windowless. The peephole only added to its forbidding quality; slap an oversized knocker on it and it would be fit for duty in one of Universal’s horror films. I tried the knob only to find it locked.
I bruised my knuckles and the peephole snapped open, revealing a tired green eye. ‘Yeah?’ came a guttural male voice.
I swallowed the urge to say ‘Moe sent me’ and order a whiskey sour. ‘I’m here to see—’
‘Name?’
‘I – Lillian Frost, but I’m looking for Sylvia—’
‘Nothing today. Try later.’ Before I’d even registered that the peephole had closed, it reopened. ‘How tall?’
‘Come again?’
The thick door didn’t prevent me from hearing the man’s weary sigh. ‘Your height, sister. How tall are you?’
For some reason I told him. ‘Five foot eight.’
A grunt vaguely signaled approval. ‘Can you dance? Ballroom stuff. And play badminton?’
At the same time? I wondered. ‘Yes on one, no on two.’
Another low rumble from the man. ‘There’s maybe something. What’s your name again?’
‘Hang on a second. I’m looking for Sylvia Ward. I’m not registered here.’
‘Why didn’t you say so?’ The peephole closed again, this time for good.
The drug store on the ground floor had plenty of coffee and a dearth of costumed desperados. I took a seat by the window and waited. I tried rereading Clyde Fentress’s screen story, but stopped when it dawned on me I was envisioning Fred MacMurray as Jim and realizing how good he’d be in the role. I was halfway through a Times item on Eddie Cantor’s post-radio show jibes at Adolf Hitler prompting a fistfight between a cast member and some of the audience when I spotted Sylvia.
She walked so briskly I had to run to catch up to her. She wore a brown and yellow plaid jacket over a dark blue dress, and had replaced her bowling shoes with brown peep-toe pumps. The footwear didn’t prevent her from covering a lot of ground; she moved with the purpose of someone determined to put distance between herself and her workplace. I called her name and was embarrassed to find myself out of breath.
Sylvia turned toward me, her innate suspicion returning to her face. ‘It’s Lillian. We met last night.’
‘I remember.’ Her voice was guarded.
‘How’s Clyde doing? I didn’t see him today.’
Sylvia didn’t respond, instead peering at me like something that had scuttled out from under her icebox. I threw myself into the situation and on her mercy. ‘Look, it’s no coincidence I ran into you. Somebody at the studio told me you worked at Central Casting and, well, I wanted to pick your brain.’
She didn’t turn on her heel. That counted as progress, so I kept talking. ‘A few minutes at the drug store. Coffee’s on me.’
Finally, she shrugged. ‘Sure.’
Once inside, she dispensed with any chitchat. ‘What did you want to pick my brain about?’
I had to ease my way into the meat of the conversation. ‘Central Casting. A friend of mine wants to sign on for extra work and I was hoping you could give me some pointers.’
Sylvia looked dubious, undoubtedly suspecting I’d invented this acquaintance as a blind for my own dreams of silver screen glory. ‘This friend of yours. She have a job?’
‘Yes, a good one.’
‘Tell her to keep it. You don’t want to roll the dice on acting when you have steady work. You definitely don’t want to pin your fortunes on being an atmosphere player.’
I made note of the term. ‘I suppose it was more an idle daydream for her than anything else.’
‘Let it stay one.
Whatever she’s doing, she’s better off.’ Sylvia gripped her coffee cup as if warming her hands with it, never lifting it to her lips. ‘You know how they choose performers nowadays? With a machine. We make up a punch card for every actor in our files. Height, weight, description. Are they knock-kneed? Bow-legged? Do they have buck teeth? Punch another hole in the card. Then a request comes in from one of the studios.’
‘Tall girls who can ballroom dance and play badminton,’ I murmured.
‘Exactly. And the machine just … anoints actors for the job.’ She trembled in awe, like Bernadette seeing the Blessed Virgin at Lourdes. ‘People come all this way, and they’re reduced to a handful of traits on a card. So they can get picked by a contraption that’s meant to be used for bookkeeping. Some outfit called International Business Machines built it.’
‘Is that what you do? Organize punch cards?’
‘No. I have an even worse job. I’m the bearer of bad news. I’m the voice on the other end of the line, telling actors “No” when they call in to see if there’s any work. I’m lucky I didn’t have the hot seat today. That’s from four to eight in the evening, people hoping to line up a job for the next day. Almost two thousand calls an hour sometimes, when there’s only nine hundred jobs a day.’ She chuckled darkly. ‘We have a poster on the wall that says, Do You Understand Figures?’
‘I can see why you want to talk my friend out of it.’
‘I’d like to talk plenty of my regulars out of it. It’s getting so I recognize them when they call. Some of them ask me for advice, or word on what jobs might be coming up.’ She spun the mug in her hands, still not drinking from it, the coffee cold now. ‘It isn’t the young ones who get to me. It’s the ladies with children to support I worry about. Then there are times the actors just scream down the wire at me.’
Script for Scandal Page 9