“We have to go back now!” I said. “You’ve gone too far!”
“This is incredible!” Chaplain said. “We should get Hartman and Hearst up here! It would be much more interesting than what we are shooting down there!”
“Who?” I shouted.
“Robert Hartmann,” Chaplain yelled. “The camera man!”
“Yes!” Fairbanks said. “We have to get them up here! This is the story! This is where we should be!”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “It is far too dangerous! Hearst would never agree to that!”
“Yes, he would, if he could see this!” Fairbanks replied.
“We’ve got to go back now before they find out we’re up here!” I said.
“I have a better idea,” Chaplin said. “Let them come and get us!”
The wind was picking up and it was hard to hear what he was saying. Suddenly, it dawned on me. By bucking Mr. Hearst like this, I could be blacklisted from having anything published in any of his newspapers ever again.
“I don’t want anyone coming after me!” I said. “Let alone Hearst! Now come on! We have got to go back down!”
“Nothing doing, Mister!” Fairbanks said. “Charlie is right! Let them come get us!”
“Suit yourselves,” I said. “But I am getting the rest of them back down now!”
As I walked back towards the hole, I took in the amazing sight all around me. The sky, the ground below, and the stars dancing in front of me. I’d let them out of the giant box they were trapped in and out into the open. I realized then what I’d always known. That they were just people like you and me. And we are all still children deep inside. Sure, you can keep them in schools or on a movie set. But once they get a taste of real freedom, you’ve lost all control.
“Okay,” I told the group, “we have to go back down now!”
“We don’t want to go!” Greta Garbo said.
The others chimed in agreeing.
“I don’t have another shoot until tomorrow morning when we land at the Olympics,” Groucho said.
“Yes!” said Joan Crawford. “We can stay here for a little while, right?”
“No!” I shouted. “I brought you up here for the sole purpose of giving you this experience! But if the Captain learns we are up here, we are all going to be in very big trouble!”
As the words came out of my mouth, I realized how hypocritical I was being.
“Nonsense!” Marx said. “What is he going to do? Throw us off the ship?”
“And why aren’t those two coming back?” asked Clark Gable, motioning towards Fairbanks and Chaplin.
“They are coming in a minute,” I lied.
“Then we will come in a minute too,” said Gable.
“Yes,” said Joan. “We will go back down when they do!”
I’d let the children out of the box and I was not about to get them back in that easily.
“You have to go back down for me!” I screamed. “You are all big movie stars! But who am I? I brought you up here, and they will hold me responsible!”
“But we will stick up for you!” Jean said.
“Okay, thank you counselor Jean Harlow!” I screamed. “I feel confident that with you being my attorney in a court of law, I will cleared of all charges!”
I climbed down the hole alone, fully expecting to be handcuffed when I reached the end of the ladder. The only person there to greet me was Monkey Man.
“You’ve gotten yourself into quite a mess now, haven’t you, Mr. Bay,”Alvon said.
I stepped off the ladder and was relieved, for a change, to be face to face with Monkey Man.
“I don’t know, Alvon,” I answered. “You may be right.”
“Would you like some Black Jack gum?” he asked.
“You know something, Alvon,” I said. “Yes, I would.”
He handed me a stick of gum and started talking about Harry Houdini again.
“He could get out of anything!” he said. “And you know, I was friends with him. I was there the day he passed away.”
“I know, Alvon, but I probably need to go find Klaus. I am in big doo-doo and need to come clean.”
“You’re missing my point,” he said. “If Houdini could get out of a locked trunk under water, you can get out of this.”
Just then a monkey appeared rolling a bowling ball down one of the ribs of the beast.
“Well, thanks for the words of encouragement,” I said, “but I am not an escape artist. And why are your monkeys running around again?”
“Just practicing for the landing,” he replied. “And you may be surprised at what you can get out of, but you won’t know until you try. Otherwise, you are Poof! Dead!”
“It’s just a matter of time before someone comes looking for them.” I said. “I might as well go down and tell them myself.”
Captain Clipboard popped up from the cabin ladder looking very concerned. And who could blame him?
“They are still up there, aren’t they Bay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I sighed. “I tried to get them to come back down, I really did. But they wouldn’t listen.”
“I can’t hold Hearst off any longer,” Klaus said. “I have to inform him of the circumstances now.”
“No,” I said. “Take me with you. This is my fault, not yours. I will tell him.”
“I think that is a good idea,” he said.
I was expecting to have to argue my case with him, but I guess Klaus was relieved not to have to deliver the bad news himself. We went down the ladder to the control room. I’d never been there before. And it was quite amazing. It looked just like the Captain’s control room of a sea ship. We passed through quickly into the dining room where Hearst was sitting with Lugosi, Cagney, Tracy and Cooper, looking very relaxed and happy.
“Excuse me, Mr. Hearst,” Klaus said, “but I am afraid we have some bad news.”
Hearst looked up, concerned. “What is it?” he asked.
I wished Captain Clipboard hadn’t brought it up that way, but it was too late.
“It’s not really bad news,” I said, sitting down at his table.
“What’s going on, Bay?” he demanded.
“Some of your stars are upstairs and they want to show you something,” I said.
“Upstairs?” he said. “Where, upstairs?”
“Actually, they are on top of the ship,” I replied. “They are all very insistent on not coming back down until you go up yourself and take a look. And they want you to bring Hartmann.”
Hearst was 69 years old, but he could probably out run me if he wanted to. I figured he could climb the ladder to the top of the beast without much trouble.
“What do you mean, on top of the ship?” he demanded.
“I mean they are outside,” I answered, pointing upward. “Literally on top of the ship.”
Hearst laughed, shaking his head. “You are a riot, Bay!” he said. “And how did they get there? Fly?”
“I took them up the ladder to the observation point,” I answered.
“Observation point?” he asked, turning serious. “There is an observation point?”
Hearst looked at Klaus, who nodded his head ‘yes.’
“Well, why in hell didn’t anyone tell ME about that?” Hearst yelled. “Take me there, now!” Hearst turned to the cameraman.
“Make sure you have a new roll of film in that thing!” he yelled. “And bring an extra reel!”
Chapter Nine
“This way, Mr. Hearst,” I said, leading the most powerful publisher in the world through the Graf’s guts to the ladder leading up to the stars.
“I have been on this great ship before,” he said as he started up the ladder. “But no one ever showed me this!”
“That’s because no one is supposed to be up here but the riggers,” I replied, following behind him. “I think it’s against the rules.”
“Do you think I care about rules, Mr. Bay?” he asked. It wasn’t really a question. It was more of a statement.
> “I am going to take a wild guess,” I replied. “I’m betting you don’t.”
Hartmann followed me, lugging his big camera and looking very nervous.
“We’re going outside?” Hartmann asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “And there’s no platform or railings or anything. We’ll be walking on the back of the beast with nothing to hang onto but our faith.”
“Good heavens,” Hartmann said. “I guess I can hang onto my camera.”
Hearst reached the top and looked down towards me.
“Now what?” he shouted.
“Open the hatch!” I replied. “Just push up on it!”
He lifted the round door and stuck his head up.
“Oh, my God!” Hearst exclaimed.
The old man was greeted by Joan Crawford, Jean Harlow and Clark Gable, who helped pull him out of the hole.
“This is amazing!” I heard him say, as I climbed out behind him.
Hearst was sitting just outside the hatch, his head in his hands, speechless, as he witnessed his stars strolling around on the beast’s back, without a care in the world.
Cameraman Robert Hartmann came up after me and immediately sat down, in awe of what lay before him.
“Isn’t this spectacular!” Harlow said.
“We should have been up here before now, Mr. Hearst,” Crawford added.
“Hartmann!” Hearst yelled. “Are you getting this?”
The cameraman was obviously in shock. He was frozen, sitting next to me, apparently unable to move or speak.
“Hartmann! Dammit!” Hearst screamed. “Start shooting! Now!”
Chaplain and Fairbanks were doing funny duck walks with their arms stretched out as if they were flying. Greta Garbo and Clark Gable were doing a crazy dance together. Grouch Marx was alternating between pretending to fly an airplane and falling out of one.
“I don’t think Hartman can move at the moment,” I told the old man.
“Give me the camera!” Hearst said.
Hartmann seemed to snap to, looking at me and Hearst.
“I’m okay!” he said, as he raised his motion picture camera to his face.
“You have to stand up!” Hearst said.
“I am getting it!” Hartman said. “Just give me a minute!”
“We’re losing daylight!” said Hearst. “You have to walk around and get as many angles as you can!”
The cameraman stood up and carefully began walking around the actors as they pranced about. The sun was setting and the sky was clear. It truly was an incredible sight.
“This is going to be great!” Hearst said to me.
“Yes, sir!” I agreed. “I am sure it will be a highlight for your documentary!”
“No one has ever seen anything like this. Have they, Mr. Bay?” he asked.
“Absolutely not!” I replied. “Because no one has ever done anything like this before! And you are getting it on film!”
“My God!” Hearst repeated over and over. “This might even get me an academy award!”
“There’s no doubt in my mind,” I said.
“Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me about this before?” he screamed.
“They told me no one is supposed to be up here,” I said. “Someone could fall off the side and plunge to certain death.”
“But you broke the rules,” Hearst said. “And brought us up here anyway.”
“Yes,” I responded. “Yes, I did.”
Hearst looked at me and smiled. “Sometimes you have to take risks,” he said.
“Sometimes you have to drive the Packard into the river,” I replied.
“What?” Hearst asked.
“Never mind,” I said. “It’s just an expression I use.”
“Thank you,” the old man said. “Thank you for driving the Packard into the river.”
I don’t know how many people Mr. Hearst has said ‘thank you’ to, but I am guessing probably not many. And his personally thanking me, well, I never thought that ever would happen in my lifetime. Although I wasn’t a big fan of William Randolph Hearst for many reasons, sitting there on top of the Graf with him, watching all of these stars performing impromptu, was a magical moment for me.
“You are most welcome,” I replied. “But I can’t take credit for bringing you up here, sir.”
“You don’t have to be modest with me, Mr. Bay!” he said. “I can read through your bullshit. I have people kissing my ass every day.”
“I’m just saying I wouldn’t have brought you up here at all,” I replied. “I thought you would be upset that I brought your stars up here. It was Fairbanks and Chaplain that insisted I bring you.”
“But had you not brought them,” he replied, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“That’s right,” I said. “So since it turned out so well, and no one has gotten killed, I take full credit.”
Hearst laughed, shaking his head, and started trying to stand up. I helped him stand, and then he started walking slowly towards the stars stretching his arms out like a bird, as they were all doing. I stayed very near him, just in case he slipped. For the next ten minutes or so, William Randolph Hearst and I walked the back of the beast together as if we were in a place not on earth, and in positions of total equality. For that brief moment in time, we were all just children, enjoying the ride and the experience of our lives. In those few minutes, how much power or money or fame one had didn’t matter. We were in an alternate reality. The one thing that would matter in the end, when it was all over, is that I was the one responsible for making it happen.
***
The sun sank on the horizon like a party pooper at a speakeasy on a Saturday night. Suddenly it was dark, and we all had to go back home. Or in this case, back inside the Graf, first through the guts, and then into the cabin area.
We filed back down the ladder, one at a time. I made sure I was the last to go. And just before I did, I took a final spin on the beast’s back, jumping and screaming at the top of my lungs, alone. I was celebrating my triumph one last time. We would be landing the following morning, bright and early, where everything would be back to normal. I was certain that by then, business as usual would make them all forget me. I would go on my way to my mission of finding the man I’d been commissioned to bring back to the woman I’d fallen for instantly. Yes, reality was going to come back for all of us. So I took that one last opportunity to relish the moment.
“Patricia!” I shouted. “I wish you could see this! I wish you could have been here! But I will find your husband! I promise! If I could make this happen, I can make anything happen! I am Harry Houdini!”
The climb down the ladder from the observation point felt good this time. I wasn’t dreading getting down into the belly because I knew I would be only passing through and not getting digested this time around. I made my way into the cabin and down the hallway to the large open area, only to be greeted by applause from the entire party, including William Randolph Hearst. Everyone was trying to talk to me all at once. The entire room was focused on me, and they were all smiling and whistling. It was overwhelming to say the least.
This must be what it is like to be famous, I thought. And to make it even more surreal, the fans, my audience, were famous themselves! It was an upside down experience. The rich and famous were giving it back to me. It was almost more than I could take. But took it, I did. And I loved it. It was almost as much of an adrenaline rush as flying on the back of the Graf. Somehow, I’d managed to pull off sharing that experience with these people. And because of that, suddenly-I was the star.
Hearst finally got the room under control again and was able to make an announcement.
“Okay, people, we are still on a schedule. What happened just now changed everything for the film, though, because we just shot two canisters of film,” he said.
Oh shit, I thought, here we go, back to reality.
“What that means,” Hearst continued, “is we do not have enough film to document the landing at the Olympics a
s planned.”
Everyone was chattering at once, so I was only hearing snippets of their comments.
“There will be plenty of film crews at the Olympics for that,” Fairbanks said.
“Yes, you can buy a ton of footage of the actual landing,” someone else chimed in.
Hartmann started shushing everyone. The normally very reserved and quiet cameraman suddenly took control of the conversation. The room suddenly fell silent.
“We do have film left,” he said. “We have one canister, but we need at least two. We were going to use it to shoot Dr. Eckener and Captain Lehmann. Remember?”
Hearst began looking through his notebook as he frequently did, flipping through the pages rapidly.
“Hmm.” Hearst said. “Yes, we have that as scene 63. You are right.”
“With all due respect to the captain and the crew, their interview segment may not be as, um, as timely to this documentary, as the footage of the stars preparing to exit the Graf at the Olympics,” Hartmann explained.
“Yes,” Hearst said. “And we can always get a few minutes with them later, if necessary.”
Again, everyone started talking at once, chiming in with comments.
“The dramatic element is to show us preparing to walk out of the Graf at the Olympics,” Chaplain said.
“I agree,” said Fairbanks. “The documentary should show us before we exit the ship and head into the audience! I think that is very important!”
“The question is,” asked Marion, “which is more important? Dr. Eckener and Captain Lehmann are very famous as well!”
Hearst raised his hand and lowered his head. He was in control again.
“We will skip the segment on Dr. Eckener and the Captain,” he announced. “The two reels we shot in their place are far more important. And I agree, we must have footage of us from inside the ship as we leave it at the Olympics.”
“We have how many reels left?” asked Chaplin.
“Just one,” said Hartmann. “So, about ten minutes of film before editing.”
“And that’s not enough?” asked Groucho. “You need more than ten minutes of us getting ready to step off the ship?”
“We’ll need at least ten minutes to shoot the stadium as
we approach it,” Hearst explained. The view will be
Chase The Rabbit: Gretch Bayonne Action Adventure Series Book #1 Page 7