by Joe Corso
Swifty immediately walked over and took a hysterical Lana into his arms trying his best to soothe her. Tears streamed down her face, leaving trails of white, as it washed away her movie star make–up. She buried her face deep into his shoulder. Swifty just kept stroking her hair, trying to console her. She looked up at him and said, “I was so scared Swifty. I thought they were going to kill you and then do something horrible to me like rape me or something.”
“Now, now,” Swifty said. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you while I’m here. It’s all over now.” Just then, she withdrew from him and tried to collect herself, doing her best to get her emotions under control.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to get hysterical like that. I’m all right now.”
“You sure?” Swifty asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m feeling much better now. Thanks.”
Shorty just kept thinking over and over again – who said lightening doesn’t strike twice in the same place? He could almost envision another Oscar sitting on his shelf come award time. Shorty’s camera had captured that entire fight scene on film and oh how he hoped it could be edited into the picture just like they had done with Jimmy’s first movie. “Man,” he said right out loud to everybody, “you can’t make this stuff up, nobody would believe it.” The police arrived on the scene and Swifty asked, “What’s goin’ on here? What’s with this crowd?” “Two threats were made against Malcolm X,” the cop answered. “Court ruling – the court agreed with the Nation of Islam that the house that X lives in belongs to the Nation. But Malcolm wouldn’t leave, so they came here with a gang, to forcibly take over ‘their’ house. The fight you witnessed was between the Nation of Islam and Malcolm X’s men. Those three guys you fought were bodyguards for the Nation of Islam. I guess after seeing their men like this, they’ll be looking to interview some newer, tougher men to replace them,” the cop laughed. Shorty had been standing within earshot of this conversation. That’s all he needed to hear. Shorty ran over to his camera, removed the film, and began looking for Peckinpah. Once he located him, Shorty handed the film to the director and told him to take a look at it.
“What’s this?” Sam asked.
“You have to look at this,” Shorty insisted. “This is gift footage, that’s what this is. It’s a gift.”
“Gift footage? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Peckinpah huffed.
“Just look at it,” Shorty answered. “I told you it’s something special I shot and I think you’re gonna like it.” When shooting ended for the day, Peckinpah headed to the film lab and gave the ‘gift footage’ to his projectionist. “Put this up for me,” he said and the footage began to roll on the big screen that was used to view the dailies, the unedited raw footage collected for that day.
Peckinpah watched in fascinated, stunned silence as the color footage flashed onto the screen. “This is fantastic,” Peckinpah shouted. “Get the chief editor in here quickly,” he called to his assistant. A few minutes later a small man with glasses and thinning hair appeared.
“You wanted to see me Sam?”
“Yeah, take a look at this. Okay. Show it again,” he yelled to the projectionist.” The film flashed once again onto the screen and the editor matter of factly responded, “Oh, I see. You wanna know if this footage can be inserted into the picture?”
“That’s exactly what I want to know. Can we use it?” asked Peckinpah.
“Well,” the editor said, “we can if you’re willing to rewrite a scene or two. Then, I can fit this right into the picture as though it’s a part of it. Good for Shorty. He used a boom mike and recorded the dialogue cleanly. We’ll have to edit a few words but it’ll work.”
Marla, the acting coach, had been assigned to Swifty and she never left his side. She had watched, helplessly, while Swifty was being attacked and tough Marla was frightened. She feared for his safety and also worried about her own. This could have caused the film to be shelved, costing Bernstein and the studio millions. She was amazed at how calmly Swifty had taken care of matters.
Meanwhile, Peckinpah asked Lana for her version of what happened.
“My leading man was fantastic,” she boasted and went on to tell Peckinpah that if Swifty hadn’t protected her, she might have been kidnapped or harmed. Peckinpah, who liked to pull a cork once in a while, asked his assistant to bring him a drink – his usual – scotch on the rocks with a splash of soda.
“Make it a double,” Peckinpah added. He needed one after hearing what had gone down on his set. The director now had another reason to like Swifty – he had a newfound respect for the guy. It seems that the director was unaware that the leading man was a prize fighter. Peckinpah, himself, was known to get into an occasional brawl or two after a few drinks and he was the type of director that normally didn’t alert the studio heads about on set activities. He did his job, called the shots, and asked that no one interfere with his work. This was no different. So it was Shorty who called Bernstein. Bernstein asked Shorty to overnight a copy of the film to him immediately. Shorty used a courier to take the footage to the airport and send it express mail. It arrived later that same day. Bernstein watched in fascination as he envisioned ‘Academy Award.’
Lana was Mary, Trenchie’s wife, in the film. Swifty convinced the director, his buddy now, to have Gonzo play Julius, Mary’s ex-husband. Once Gonzo was on set, Swifty lightened up and even began to enjoy his work, making this film. Because Gonzo had now moved into a lead role, his Stillman gym shots had to be deleted. After the first day’s shooting finished, the three fighters along with Shorty Davis, Sam Peckinpah, and Lana Thomas headed to The Starlight Club. Swifty could now see Red and the boys. Once at the club, the actors and crew dined and loaded up on house specials, ‘alcoholic refreshments.’ Sam asked Red if he would open up the ballroom for a little peek – Peckinpah wanted to see what all the fuss was about according to Larry Bernstein. The room at first was pitch black. Everyone waited for Moose to flip some switches. Suddenly, light flooded the room and The Starlight Club awakened from its slumber and sprang to life, illuminated by the myriad of colors reflecting off of the crystal chandelier.
“Well, what do we have here?” Peckinpah asked, obviously pleased with what he was seeing. “This place is exceptional. Now I understand what Larry meant,” he said to Red. “This typically isn’t the type of picture I normally direct,” the director continued, “but Larry was insistent, telling me The Starlight Club would be the primary setting. Said it had great possibilities for a big, showy film. Okay,” the director continued, “I’ll bring in a twenty–five piece orchestra, dancing girls, some high powered entertainers like Frank Sinatra for a cameo or two,” he spewed, “and we’ll make The Starlight Club the talk of the country. It’ll be the focal point of everything that goes on in the picture. I know exactly how I’ll use this beautiful setting. Great, I’ve seen enough – back to the bar,” he said as he turned to walk away. “I need another drink.”
The following day, the script was rewritten to include the footage that Shorty had captured. Weeks passed and much of the filming was held inside the magnificent walls of The Starlight Club grand ballroom. The movie wrapped on schedule and the film came in on budget, a testimonial to Peckinpah and the justification for hiring the high powered director. It was now up to post production. Bernstein’s talented bevvy of visual, music and sound editors would now lend their hands to clip, snip, splice, and piece together what everyone anticipated to be the studio’s next great film.
chapter thirty-two
Larry Bernstein had once again done it. The footage of Swifty fighting three hoodlums from the Nation of Islam was dramatic and ‘realistic’. The film was in the can. What made the film more relevant was that shortly thereafter, there was the real life burning, to the ground, of Malcolm X’s house. The fight scene written into the picture clearly alerted the audience that it was the Nation of Islam’s bodyguards that Swifty had fought. What they didn’t know was the fight scene they thought w
as staged, was real. The audience had no clue that the thugs were real. The total effect of the added scene was stark realistic brutality that appeared unstaged.
The Prize Fighter opened to rave reviews. The critics were universal in their praise of the picture. One critic stated, “Swifty Card burst onto the big screen much like James Roman did a few years ago, complete with fight scene reminiscent of Roman’s famous ‘knee and a wrench’ scene. The Starlight Club with its high profile clientele and its grand lady ballroom will be a secret no more.”
The New York Times wrote, “Card is a prize fighter playing a prize fighter, so it is no surprise that he looks good throwing a punch, however his
three–on–one fight scene was so realistic I could almost feel the blows he received. I smell an Oscar.”
Time Magazine said, “Talk about good acting. Look closely at Card’s facial expressions as he’s getting hit in that tremendous fight scene. I winced with each punch. Now that’s real acting! Kudos to this new actor for his realistic performance.”
While all the hoopla was going on in the press, Swifty was back East, training for his next round of fights. He won his first fight with a second round knockout and was surprised to find himself ranked fifteenth in the top
twenty–five fighters. There was talk of a fight with the champ. Trainer Gil Clancy was pleased with Swifty and his performance, but felt he wasn’t quite ready for a title bout, so Red stepped back, passed on a few fights, waiting for the signal from the trainer of champions.
“When do you think he’ll be ready, Gil?” Red asked.
Clancy didn’t hesitate. “I’d like to see him have three more fights with a few more contenders. It could be six months or even a year, but he’s close. I just don’t want to see him get hurt, that’s all.”
“I agree,” Red said. “The main thing is not to overmatch him. I don’t want him to get hurt either.”
Clancy added, “Let’s not rush him then. We’ll have him fight three more fights, see how it goes, and then talk about taking on the champ.”
Swifty’s hit picture and escalation to movie star status stifled his championship plans for a while. Due to his many required appearances and the promotion of the movie, his timetable was constantly being adjusted. The plan was for Swifty to fight in between pictures. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep him in shape.
Swifty had moved out of Shorty Davis’s home with the first movie check he received. He was renting an unpretentious, yet spacious apartment, on Elm and Wilshire in Beverly Hills. His intention was to eventually buy a house. Swifty had gone from movie straight to training, and now he needed a vacation. He booked himself a flight to back to his roots, New York. He was anxious to get back to Queens and The Starlight Club and he knew that he could stay in the room upstairs if no one was using it.
The cab picked up Swifty, curbside, from the front of his apartment and headed for LAX. The cap driver recognized Swifty instantly but said nothing. As a professional, the diver knew to honor his privacy. Swifty noticed the driver staring at him and finally, put two and two together – must be the movie. Swifty was still getting used to his newfound celebrity. Swifty gave the cab driver a large tip – a story the driver would tell time and time again – and stepped out of the cab looking every bit the movie star heartthrob. He was wearing one of his Valentino Maximus suits. He looked good and knew it. What a journey, what a long way from street kid to boxer to soldier to . . . move star? While waiting in the first class line, he noticed people nudging their spouses and even brazenly pointing at him. Swifty noticed it all but somehow remained oblivious to what it all meant. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by autograph seekers and fans who just wanted to say hello or to have a few words with him. Swifty wasn’t anything like Jimmy the Hat who relished the attention. The Hat knew how to work the crowd. Poor Swifty was a bit uncomfortable. Being in the ring was one thing – the ropes separated you from the fans. You fought, you ran around a bit and then you retreated to your dressing room, but here there was nowhere to retreat. He wasn’t sure if he liked this play acting stuff. The crowd loved his natural shyness and his down to earth demeanor and Swifty, to his credit, handled it with class, shaking hands with the men and signing autographs for the ladies.
The call for first class passengers seemed to rescue him. Normally, he was a coach flyer, but he wanted the extra room this time to spread out and nap but with his now steady, impressive salary, he could afford the upgrade. One thought kept him from drifting off to sleep. He was anticipating having a problem getting his luggage. He would have to wait until he landed and find a phone away from the crowd and then call Red and ask him to have Moose meet him at the luggage carousel.
The plane landed at LaGuardia but Swifty didn’t move from his seat. When every passenger had deplaned, a pretty stewardess approached and asked if everything was all right.
“I just wanted to wait until everyone else got their luggage. If I go get mine, I’ll never get out of the airport.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m afraid that you’ll have to leave now. How about this? I’ll take you to security where you can wait without being disturbed.” She looked at him and said in an understanding voice. “I guess it’s pretty rough not being able to travel without being recognized and annoyed by the public. Forgive me for bringing it up, but I saw your movie and I thought you were wonderful in it.” Swifty smiled and answered, “Thanks but I’m still not very comfortable acting. It’s new to me you know. I’m a prize fighter and all I ever wanted to be was world champion. I thought I would have some measure of fame in the ring . . . not as an actor.” She liked this guy. He had a down–to–earth, unaffected manner about him. Secretly, she hoped that he would ask her for her telephone number. He had just appeared in a picture with Lana Thomas, one of the most beautiful women in the world, so realistically, the stewardess knew her chances were slim.
Swifty hadn’t really talked to June since his last fight. June had tried to make contact but shooting the film gave Swifty the excuse he needed. Swifty felt that the novelty of June dating a fighter would wear off and she’d realize that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, fit into her social strata.
The stewardess accompanied Swifty to a security office where he made his phone call to Red. She felt a twinge of empathy for this big star who now sat so patiently while waiting for his friend to get his luggage. Without thinking she blurted, “Would you like to come home with me?” She realized how her words must have sounded to him and added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I meant – would you like to come with me to avoid your fans? And once we’re out of the airport, I can drop you off and you can go on your way.” Swifty looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. She was young, right around his age, with dark hair, vivid blue eyes and a great body.
“Oh, thanks but I don’t know,” Swifty answered. “I have my friend meeting me here and picking up my luggage. Do you have your car parked nearby?”
“Yes, in long term parking.”
“That’s very nice,” Swifty said. “Well maybe I’ll take you up on that offer. Do you have a pen and paper handy?”
“One second,” the stewardess said and she walked to the security desk. She tore off a sheet of paper from a pad on the desk, took a pen from her purse and handed them to Swifty. Swifty jotted a note to Moose that read, “Moose, I’m going for breakfast with a young lady. Please take my luggage to The Starlight Club and tell Red that I’ll see him later today or tomorrow morning.” He handed her the note.
“Could you please take this out to the carousel and give it to my friend Moose? He’ll be the man with the luggage with large orange stickers on the sides. Those’ll be mine.” The pretty stewardess, note in hand, found Moose easily. Most everyone else from that flight had already left the airport and were on their way home. Moose was the only one standing by the now silent baggage carousel.
“Are you Moose?” He nodded and she handed him the note. Moose grunted something, which sounded like
thanks and turned and walked away, pulling the luggage behind him. When she returned to the security room, she said to Swifty, “Come on. It’s all clear now. We’ll go out through the security exit and take the shuttle bus to my car.”
“Great,” said Swifty. “Take Northern Boulevard instead of the parkway. You know, I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Sue, but everyone calls me Susie.”
“Nice to meet you Sue. I’m Swifty.”
She laughed, “I know who you are silly, you didn’t have to tell me.”
“Let’s get some breakfast,” Swifty suggested.
“Where?” she asked.