by Ray Succre
“I do,” Rebecca said.
“Yes,” Vivian replied.
“Time is near. Our moment sees us and waits. This powerful strike for the Confederacy will be more than subtle victory, but a triumph of humanity over the ancient world, owed in its entirety to the courageous action you will perform.”
“What do I do?” Vivian asked.
“Be bait.”
“Bait?”
“From the far edge of the field, northwest, you’ll come running, waving your small arms and shouting at the devil as he rests.”
“I will?”
“Your hoots and screeches are well known; you will startle the monster greatly. Private Rebecca Asher and I will approach at that moment from the rear, quieter, a touch slower so as not to be heard. The monster will hear you, will see you with its ghastly eyes, and it will turn and run for you, to trample your small bones into the Earth.”
“No. I don’t want to do that,” Vivian said.
“But we’ll be there, alongside it. I’ll stab the throat once, and you, older Private, you’ll climb its fur, get atop, and stab the more, down into the spine. Several times should do it.”
“Then what?” Rebecca asked.
“Triumph. Of course, we have to do it before it crushes your hooting sister.”
The three had reached their positions and were ready to wage the deadly ploy. The crickets chirped in menace. Private Vivian Asher, alone, laid down at the field’s edge. She had been counting for what seemed like hours and had finally reached ninety-seven. She breathed shallow and worried over the state of her father and sister, whether they would be there to protect her when it was time. Ninety-eight. The wind had rustled the trees in a ghostly sort of way and caused her heart to stutter. This was a bad place to be a little girl, she suspected, but the hunt was important, and the trophy that would come of it was needed in order to celebrate the Confederacy, to prosper General Mother, and make wonder where only hunger had prior existed. Ninety-nine. The moon had not risen, but allowed itself into being, a white phantasm in a sky still much with light. Over the crest of the horizon shot the form of a dark loon, dithering its wings over the field of death, and as the bird vanished over the trees, Vivian took in a hard breath, squinted her eyes, and gathered up every bit of resolve the world could offer. One-hundred. She jumped to her feet and extended her arms.
The squeaks and waving limbs that startled the mastodon were somewhat meek, but easily perceivable. The beast turned to see her and, as if his very blood surged upward, his front legs stamped out and he began to rise. The mastodon lifted onto his great feet and a sickening roar pressing against the ears of the little one across the field. She gasped and closed her eyes, moving the way she had been told, the way that went against her notion of the proper direction in the given predicament. She moved toward the monster, a staunch testament to the trust she placed in her fellow soldiers; an act of whelming bravery. Her hands now over her eyes, she jogged forward, peeking from between her fingers each few steps.
The mastodon charged and closed much distance. This was happening faster than she had expected. Had Lieutenant Asher suspected this course of events to take so little time? Her eyes opened for a moment. Within the frame of her fingers, she saw a flit of movement beside the mastodon. Her eyes closed again. A few steps. The eyes opened and she saw the cavalry lieutenant, the heroic boy, her father, stabbing his saber into the neck of the beast at a full sprint. The little eyes closed again. Steps. Uncertainty. The eyes opened. With every instance of vision, the mastodon was closer and thus, larger. She watched the lieutenant jump away from the creature as Private Rebecca Asher climbed atop its back, stabbing downward with her own, capable saber. The older sister got to do everything first.
The world spun then as the bait tripped over her own feet and stumbled to the ground. The soil tasted awful. And cold. Private Vivian Asher spit poorly and grimaced, getting to her feet and brushing the dirt from her uniform. The mastodon lay crumpled before her, having stopped but twenty feet in front of her blind stumble to the ground. Private Rebecca Asher stood atop the animal with her blood-coated saber and breathed hard. The lieutenant came up alongside the youngest and lifted her onto his hip, smiling and proud. This made Private Vivian Asher feel quite wonderful.
“We did it, soldier. We’ve brought down the scourge of the Confederacy.”
“Long live the South!” Rebecca exclaimed with rejoice from atop the beast. Lieutenant Asher approached his oldest daughter and addressed upward.
“By the rank and position afforded me by our noble Confederacy and the power of the War Department, I hereby approve your promotion in rank. You are no longer a private, Ms. Asher, but will now function as Acting President of Monroe Worthington Junior High. I congratulate you.” Rebecca beamed at this rite of succession, at this grand foray into her own manner of things and the rise in power of the Confederate Army of Asher. General Mother would be pleased.
It was then that the Sun zipped off and the moon chased it in a solemn way. The mastodon’s blood changed color. Night descended over the field like a wave over sand. The dark of this shoved the glint from Emery’s blade into being and he nodded, setting Vivian down on her own feet again. It was time to pass his position on to his protege, time for young Vivian to become a ranking member of the squad. The little girl marveled at the blood as it dripped from the two sabers. This syrup of life had so little texture, and its green coloring was less vivid by the moment. The blood was no longer warm, but quite cold, and she watched in wonder as the substance pooled beside the animal, dead on the floor and bleeding out its ice cream for them to take at their whim, as much as they liked. Her father ran his fingers over the back of the blade, gathering a smudge of the green, thick blood, lifted them, and had a taste. Vivian did the same. The flavor was new and wondrous, cold and rich. Nutty.
“Pistachio,” Emery said, kneeling and extending his little one the symbolic and merited saber. Vivian carefully accepted the saber and admired its curvature, heavy as it was. Her father leaned in close, then, whispering.
“And don’t tell anyone, but I’m promoting you, too, little one. You’re going from private first class to the official light of my life. Does this sound favorable?”
Vivian provided her father a slight nod and then lifted her cold spoon, having a slight taste, and in that wild moment of recognition between a new sweet and a young mind, she rose into her not-so-slight smile.
CUT TO:
CBS MORNING SHOW AND TALK HOUR – 1964
Tom Nash: I’d like to talk briefly about something Ted Miller recently said regarding the networks and programming. He said, “The quiz-shows, and Mr. Welk, the mysteries, old west shows, across the board are television at its basest, and that’s ABC. Only a short step behind them, and seeming eager to imitate, is NBC.” It seems Miller likes CBS a touch better. How would you rate the Big Three, and do you agree with Miller’s observation?
Emery Asher: Oh, CBS has been paternal. To me, to The Other Side, to my writers. My feelings toward Television City, where we shot most of it after leaving the MGM studio— it’s peculiar because they have an almost appreciative quality and the network is very inductive. They’ve been fair to me and they’re good to most writers. You feel a bit welcome, I suppose. CBS has its— CBS is like that more than the other networks, I think.
Tom Nash: Can you explain that?
Emery Asher: Well, the folks at Columbia Broadcasting hire writers under contract, just like you have a contract for your show, which is-
Tom Nash: Sure, right.
Emery Asher: -okay, yeah, and this just isn’t always the case with the other networks. For writers. They’re more of a chain shop that sells a few specific things and they hire whoever makes those things, but as a dramatist, I think CBS is more of- just more of a writer’s bazaar. There are all kinds, which is necessary and keeps the blood pumping. And they put on a Playhouse 90, CBS did, and kept it even though it wasn’t pulling in much money. Three years they
kept it, and they kept going all the way until ‘61. It was something for television that wasn’t governed by the incentive of capitalism. There was money but it wasn’t the big tent, just a concession stand near it. Those days are gone, I think. But the contract writers, with creative control, like I’ve had- we get an opportunity to strike the anvil with CBS. I’m not saying this because this interview is on CBS; I’m saying this out of experience. We can better write what we want to, with more involvement. Range, I mean. We’re given more range than we’d be given otherwise. They’ve built a strong avenue and let us have our harum-scarum when we need it. I don’t know much about ABC. I know you’ve worked with them, but I’ve only worked with ABC once and it was some time ago.
Tom Nash: Right, but as a member of the audience, because I’m sure you watch the shows, as we all do, how would you rate it?
Emery Asher: Yes, I watch. But I’m going to have to side with Miller. I’ll defer to Ted on this one. Because I watch things with my eye on direction and resources, Tom. As a producer and writer. Seldom as a viewer. I also watch for the story, the narrative, as a writer, and whatever I can gleam of the production, the people... that’s more what I see with a show; I see the product and not the network. They’re the employer and I’m looking at the work. Really, of the Big Three, in my experience the blade just seems cleanest with CBS. And I disagree with Ted regarding NBC. NBC is fine, overall. I’ve worked with them and they were fair enough. They took on Hitchcock for the last few years, and I’ve heard a rumor about Arch Oboler maybe working on a pilot, which would be great. I know they’ve been setting up a comedy showcase, too, but they still seem to hold up some decent dramas. But liking a network is almost political, at this point. I don’t prefer to pick sides; it’s bad for the soul and bad for business if you’re a writer.
Tom Nash: Is television getting better or worse?
Emery Asher: Oh, well both. And quite fast. Some of it is very arousing and there’s a lot of promise with it. Some potency. But some television can be so middling. It’s like spoiled milk being thrown on a screen. I’m confident good things are happening, Tom. I am certain this could, for a lot of reasons, be a serious form of art. It’s perceivable that could happen. And I’m with it and I think things can be improved with the veritas that comes from creative control, and in many ways I very much want to be a part of that. To help out. And give my own message, too. The idea, and it’s always in conception, never fully matured, and rightfully so, is to aim for real art and see what a fellow can hit.
Tom Nash: Four minutes. After a third cancellation, are you bitter about the way CBS has treated you? You seem to say nice things about it, but you have to be a little angry about those cancellations. And always with an Emmy.
Emery Asher: No, I’m not bitter. There’s no resolve with that conceit, and it has a weight that wrecks anyone with a creative mind. That sort of emotion is poison to anyone who creates, and it ruins the intoxication of writing. We all work hard out here, and I was discouraged by the first two cancellations, yes, because I didn’t understand them, and perhaps a little- not bitter, but maybe cynical. As a result, my stories in season three were darker.
Tom Nash: Even with the prior Emmys? Surely you must have felt you were doing something right.
Emery Asher: I did, but cancellation and awards are two sides of one coin, and you flip that coin to each season. Sometimes you flip it twice and get both. But that’s just the weight of change and change is how a group of people flourish and scamper. A television crew. The show had a good heart, I think, and was certainly more careful with itself, and the episodes benefitted from that uncertainty. The axe is a good motivator.
Tom Nash: I see, sure. The last cancellation was acceptable?
Emery Asher: Well, when we had our head cut off this third time, I do think it was correct to leave it in the basket. We kept it alive before that for good reason, I think, and made very capable use of the borrowed time we’d been given.
Tom Nash: Is The Other Side off the air for good?
Emery Asher: Yes, it’s done.
Tom Nash: Because there have been rumors that a 6th season might be in the works, actually on ABC.
Emery Asher: Right, I’ve heard those, too. They’re untrue. If another season was in the works, I’m confident I’d be privy to it, being the head writer, host, and producer and all. ABC did offer, but it wouldn’t have been the same show and CBS does own the rights. A complete overhaul and change, and it would have likely behaved in a way that grated against the show’s real nature. No, Other Side is finished; I think we put on a lot of good episodes and gave the public, and maybe this is vanity, or I like to think pride, but I think we managed to give some truly great moments through that show. I’m very grateful that people have liked it as much as they have, and the rumor of it coming back is so flattering, but all things have an end, Tom. I’ll assure everyone that the 5th season was definitely the final season of The Other Side.
Tom Nash: What’s next? Are you looking to make another anthology?
Emery Asher: There are offers but I want to see what I can do with my own ideas, a tête-à-tête with my typewriter and a bit of freelance. I’d like to make another, sure, but it has to be wholly my own. Most of the offers, like the ABC offer, are for things sort of like The Other Side, but just watered down and stilted. I won’t do something like that unless I think I could make it better than The Other Side. I don’t want to imitate myself, and that’s not art’s nature, and I don’t want this show to devolve into Dracula tales on another network. It’s right to die where it is, and if I’m not making something better, there’s little point, to me. But yes, I’d welcome another anthology show, a different one, so long as I could remain in speculation and have room to move.
Tom Nash: You’re not planning on returning to serious writing; you want to stay with the pot-boilers.
Emery Asher: No no, not that at all. I think with Other Side, we proved that speculation can be so much more than usual plots and monster mash-ups. A serious story can still be entertaining, Tom, and if something is fun or intriguing, in no way is that story simply a potboiler by that mood. That’s something I think we’ve proven with The Other Side. It was certainly fun, but we were adult about it, and the episodes were of a good quality. We treated each episode like a film. The were dramas. You’ve seen the show.
Tom Nash: Of course, but what I mean is that you want to stick to entertaining. To stories that convey what you want through layman sensibilities.
Emery Asher: I don’t believe otherworldly tales are exclusively the domain of the layman, Tom. There is no real consensus that states time travel in a story instantly relegates that story as having no merit. We have an attitude, and it’s a very human attitude but damaging, that if something is fun or enjoyable, it’s frivolous or bad for us. So, yes and no. I want to write what’s meaningful to me, and I do enjoy dressing it up in these wonderful elements of fantasy. And you like it, as well, or I wouldn’t be here for your talk hour.
Tom Nash: I do like them.
Emery Asher: Okay, but this in no way means that’s all I can do or that the stories are any less for it. They’re not pot-boilers and I dislike that way of thinking. Again, these are dramas with elements of speculation. They’re not simply one or the other.
Tom Nash: But surely you know that these are quite different than your earlier work, which had a more literary scope. Those first stories, for which you received awards, I might add, they had a sense of importance, didn’t they? And for now-
Emery Asher: Yes, okay.
Tom Nash: -for now, would you say that you would rather write the entertaining thing, instead of the important thing?
Emery Asher: No. They are the same entitity for me. Entertaining can be plenty important. I think we’re sliding into semantics. And the work I did with The Other Side won awards, too. I consider it all the same work, the same awards, not different things in opposition, Tom. A person can find importance in anything. It’s up to the vie
wer, really. I’m not giving up on writing well. Certainly not. I’m just fond of a particular sort of vehicle. They’ll tell you that writing for television is low, and they said that writing for the motion pictures was low, and before that, they told you that writing novels was low, and there were the plays and the songs, and before that, anything outside of latin verse was said to be low. None of that is actual, Tom. Those are writers throughout history shouting at their replacements, Tom. It’s happening now, too, and it will never end. I love the written art. There is nothing low about any of it.
Tom Nash: If not the medium, would you say that certain artists can be considered low?
Emery Asher: Oh, of course. There are varying levels of skill involved. There are bad writers just as there are good writers, but not by station or genre or format. Good and bad is a question of skill and lack of skill. The world of scriptwriting shouldn’t be held accountable for someone’s bad script. That writer should, but not the medium.