Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [35]
Unless the Army, Navy, Marines, and Air Force provided masses of men, guns, tanks, ships, planes, and equipment, the cost of the big war film was too much for the studios to bear.
Thus far Pacific Studios had been clean and everyone was keeping an eye on Of Men in Battle. I was sent back to Washington to go over the script with the Marine Corps and take out the objectionable parts.
The Corps didn’t find a hell of a lot wrong. At the end of an easy week, I was ushered into the commandant’s office. It was down to PFC Zadok and a four-star general.
“My first duty is to the Corps, sir,” I told him. “If the studio gets out of line, I’ll let you know immediately.”
The Marines had benefited greatly from the novel. I was one of theirs and they trusted me. I returned to Pacific with a golden club to hold over the Colonel’s head.
At one point the studio tried to deviate from my screenplay by secretly putting on another writer. I walked out of the studio, leaving a two-word letter on my desk; namely, “I quit.” The next day I was implored to return. The Corps had expressed its displeasure.
“We feel that it is in everyone’s best interest to keep Zadok on through the filming.”
What the hell. The Corps was allowing Pacific to have eight cameras film their maneuvers and landing on Vieques Island in the Caribbean.
Colonel Gold got the message. I don’t know whether von Dortann had hired another writer on his own volition or on orders from the studio. I do know he was removed from the film and I suddenly functioned as a part-time producer, in on everything from casting to the final cut. That’s the way it goes in this town. When you fly, you fly.
While the picture was being filmed, the studio pulled out several shelved screenplays for me to putter around with. Two dead projects were revived and one of them made it to the cameras and gained me a reputation as a script doctor.
Then came my ultimate coup. I was working late in one of the cutting rooms with the Colonel and we both got blasted and I conned him into a world premiere in my hometown, Baltimore.
“You’re the God-damnedest hustler I’ve ever seen, Zadok.”
“I take that as a compliment, Colonel. Baltimore is going to love you.”
“I’ve got nothing against a hustler, as long as he’s doing it on my behalf,” he said.
I was kept on as a script doctor until the film was released. Of Men in Battle went on to become one of a half-dozen great films of World War II and made a bundle for the studio.
As my time was running out I began thinking hard about my next novel. How do I break loose from Val to do my research? Or, was I really using Val as a crutch for my own indecision?
Then came a famous “summons” to Colonel Gold’s office. This could cause mere writers to shake, rattle, and roll. What was more, Sal Sensibar had been “summoned” as well. Gold had set the stage for something big.
“I like you, Zadok!” he said after wearing us out with a couple of his cornball jokes. “I like you big!” Sensibar began levitating right there in the office.
The Colonel then offered me a three-year writer/producer contract starting at two thousand dollars a week and ending at four thousand. Jaysus! Jaysus! Valhalla! He had made damned sure Sal was present, in case I had any ideas of rejecting his offer.
Sal retreated, groveling out backward, which was no easy trick.
“You’ve got me, Zadok,” Gold said as a parting shot. “See, I took my thumb off the scale.”
Does all this shit sound like dream stuff? Well, I left all the rotten parts on the cutting-room floor. I was a fool to think I was going to be the first golden boy who drifted into town, made a killing, and drifted out without getting my hands bloody. My thirtieth birthday was coming up and I had a lot to think