Chase The Rabbit: Gretch Bayonne Action Adventure Series Book #1 Page 13

  “You go first,” I said.

  Bela took the marker and very carefully began the first letter of his message. It was a “C” and was two feet from top to bottom. The assistants stood behind us at the kitchen table. We were all in awe of how seriously Lugosi was working on making his message on the sheet look. I had expected him to just sign it quickly, but he was going about it as if were the most important project he’d ever had.

  It took him a good twenty minutes to finish the inscription. The poor assistants had to keep giving him fresh black ink markers. I’d lost count of how many he’d gone through. But when he was finally done, it was stunning.

  Children Of The Night-Bela Lugosi, 1932

  “What do you think?” Bela asked.

  “It’s amazing!” I responded.

  “Here,” Bela said, handing me the marker. “Your turn.”

  “When you get finished,” Bela said as he was leaving the room, “you had better retire. I will wake you at 5 AM.”

  Son of a bitch! I thought. How am I going to compete with this!

  “I need colored markers,” I told the assistants.

  They looked at me like I was crazy.

  “Or paint or something,” I added. “And I need them now!”

  As they exited the room, I sat down, trying to think of something clever to write and design on the sheet beneath Lugosi’s brilliant, black inscription. Bela had written part of that famous line from Dracula. But what could I write?

  The assistants came back with a box full of acrylic paints of all colors and brushes of all sizes and sat them on the table in front of me.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Now please leave me until I call for you.”

  It took over an hour to paint my message and signature. When I was finally finished, I was quite elated with the result. It wasn’t just an inscription. It was a painting. A work of art.

  ChAse The Rabbit-GreTch BAYonne, 1982

  All three of the young assistants were shocked and seemed to be in awe of the sheet that lay before them.

  “Sir, that is amazing!” one of them said.

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  “Absolutely brilliant!” one of them remarked.

  “And the contrast between Mr. Lugosi’s style and yours beneath it is incredible!”

  “But you made a mistake,” one of them said.

  “A mistake with what?” I asked.

  “You dated it 1982.”

  “That was intentional,” I responded, laughing. “You see, I am fifty years ahead of my time.”

  “Yes, I think you are,” the female assistant replied. “But we can’t deliver this tonight.”

  “And why is that?” I asked.

  “The paint,” she said. “It has to dry. We can’t move this now.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. “Yes,” I said. “Come back tomorrow and deliver it then.”

  “Yes, of course,” the young girl replied. “But, sir, if I may ask, what does it mean?”

  “What does what mean?”

  “Chase The Rabbit,” she said. “What does that mean?”

  It was a question I’d asked myself many times over the years, yet I didn’t really have a singular explanation for it. But no one had ever asked me that question before. My back was against the wall, and I finally had to pin it down. I had to face the question. My answer came out easily.

  “It means pursue your dreams.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The White Zombie set was nothing like I’d imagined it would be.

  It was on the Warner Brothers’ lot, which consisted of many warehouses. It took us a long time to find the exact location; and when we did, there weren’t that many people there.

  It was six o’clock in the morning, and I virtually had no sleep because I had spent the weary hours of the evening painting my inscription for the Jean Harlow sheet.

  We found the director, Victor Halperin who seemed to be in a hurry already. He showed us to an area on the set where several women began making up Lugosi for his character.

  “I want to use a beard for this,” Bela told the make-up lady. Otherwise, I will look too much like Dracula.”

  As Bela sat in a chair to be made up, I eavesdropped on the various chatter that was going on around me. I sensed a sizable amount of tension. This didn’t seem like it was going to be as fun as I’d anticipated. Then, suddenly, there was a shriek.

  “Oh no!” a voice cried out. “No!”

  It was Victor Halperin, the director. Someone was standing next to him, and they were both in hysterics. Bela and I jumped up and rushed over to them. A half dozen people made it there before us. It was total insanity.

  “It is Robert,” someone said. “He is dead!”

  “Who?” Bela asked.

  “The actor,” they replied, “Robert Frazer. He was just killed in a car accident. On the way here!”

  This seemed like bad luck warmed over. First, the Graf, and now this.

  “What are we going to do now?” the director moaned.

  It hit me hard that the loss of the life of a man seemed less important than the production of a motion picture.

  “I have a solution to this problem,” Bela told the director. “An immediate fix to this.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Halperin shouted.

  “I have a movie to make and one of our principal stars is gone! I have just two weeks to do this, tops!”

  “This man,” Bela said, gesturing towards me, “he can do the Beaumont character. He knows it.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “I don’t know about that.”

  “He knows the part,” Lugosi went on. “Let us show you.”

  The director looked at me and said, “What experience have you had in acting?”

  “I have none,” I replied. “But it appears you might be lucky enough to discover me.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I will give you one shot at it. But you better be good!”

  “Scene 52,” Victor said. “Do scene 52 in its entirety now!”

  “Just like in my study,” Bela whispered to me. “And really lean on it this time.”

  “I’ve got this,” I answered.

  Lugosi and I tore into the scene like hungry German Shepherds on Sunday left overs. I had studied acting through watching motion pictures for many years. I’d seen how Bela used his body to convey certain things. He was famous for his facial expressions, but what fascinated me the most was how he used his hands. And, of course, I knew the lines. I was able to block out all the people on the set and just concentrate on Bela. I nailed the scene and I knew it.

  When we were finished, Bela and I turned to look at the director. Victor sat there wide eyed, and then slowly, a slight smile came across his face.

  “What is your name?” Halperin asked.

  “My name is Gretch Bayonne. But everyone calls me Bay,” I answered.

  “Bay?” the director asked. “Like the writer?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Like the writer.”

  “I love that guy,” he replied. “I read all of his articles. You should consider changing your name so people don’t get the two of you confused. Just a suggestion.”

  Lugosi began laughing in his deep baritone and looked at me as if to ask, Are you going to tell him or am I?

  “I am not worried about the writer,” I said.

  “If you can do the other scenes the way you just did that one,” the director said, “then you have saved this picture. I don’t care what your screen name is. We are on a very tight schedule. Let’s do it again. And this time, we will roll film.”

  Bela and I repeated our performance, and I felt it was even better the second time around. Following the adrenalin rush after that first scene was shot, we all took a break. Before I could even sit down, one of the director’s assistants came up to me with a contract to sign.

  “Mr. Bay,” he said. “We have to have you sign off on this.”

  I took the papers and glanced at
the first page and began flipping through them. I’d never seen anything like it. I looked around the room for Bela to help me interpret, but he was nowhere in sight.

  “When do you need me to sign this?” I asked.

  “We need you to sign it now,” the man said.

  “I can’t do that,” I replied, “I can’t sign this until I understand what it means.”

  “It means you are being paid $850 to appear in this motion picture,” he responded.

  “Give me your pen,” I replied.

  ***

  Making a movie was much more complicated than I expected. The light had to be just right. There was only one camera, so it had to be moved around a lot. The director was constantly looking through the viewfinder of the camera and giving the crew orders. And scenes were being shot out of order from as they appeared in the script. It was confusing, but altogether fascinating at the same time.

  The strangest thing was no one on the set talked to each other during all the scene set ups. It was dead silent. Lugosi was reading a book, and the others sat, for the most part, without expression, watching the crew ready the set for the next shot. It dawned on me that these actors were somewhat like the zombies that were portrayed in the film. They sat there, obediently, without making a sound. Then when called upon, they came to life and acted swiftly. It was amazing to see. They had to wait, and then at the drop of a hat on command, they had to perform.

  This is why they sit in silence like zombies, I thought. They are waiting for their cue to act. And they have to be perfect the first time.

  I lost track of how many scenes we shot. We had been there a long time, and everyone was getting tired. So as interesting as it was, I was relieved when the director finally dismissed us.

  “We will resume tomorrow morning,” Halperin announced. “Thank you all. It has been a very productive day. And please, if you all wouldn’t mind, sign this card for Mr. Robert Frazer’s family. He was a friend, and a great actor, and losing him in this way is a huge loss to this industry.”

  The director’s remark about the sudden death of one of his costars seemed genuine. The zombies suddenly came to life and there was sadness all around. They started talking amongst each other as the card was passed from one to the other. Some tears were shed. Hugs were shared. It had been a long, strange day. I’d left Hoboken and the solitary existence of a writer behind me. I was an actor now.

  Chapter Eighteen

  We got word from our driver as he was taking us home that night. The Shortridge Committee was planning to make an announcement.

  “The ‘What’ Commission?” I asked.

  “You know!” the driver said. Senator Samuel Shortridge. The investigation into the Graf. It’s all over the radio! They are going to release their findings tomorrow!”

  “Already?” Bela asked. “That is interesting. I suppose we should listen to the radio this evening and catch up on what is going on.”

  “I can catch you up!” the driver said. “Those men from Washington, Senator Shortridge, and Mr. Hearst and the stars, they are going to reveal why she went down! At three o’clock tomorrow! And the Olympics, they will start next week! The President said the games must go on!”

  “Whoa, wait a minute,” I said. “Hoover talked about this today?”

  “Why, yes, sir,” the driver said. “On the radio! It was an amazing speech! He said the games must go on!”

  “Thank you, driver,” Bela said, cutting him off.

  “They are shutting this thing down,” Bela whispered to me, “so they can all get back to work. I am a bit surprised they are doing it so quickly though.”

  “I must admit,” I said. “I am curious to hear what they have to say.”

  “It will be a whole lot of nothing, my friend,” Bela replied. “Well-scripted, acted and directed.”

  “Like White Zombie?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Bela laughed. “It will be exactly like White Zombie, but with a much larger budget!”

  It was a funny remark, but I was too exhausted to laugh.

  “What time is it anyway?” I asked.

  “Time to retire,” Bela said. “We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  ***

  We were back on the set of White Zombie before I even had a chance to think about Patricia and what I was supposed to be doing in Hollywood to begin with. Then the extras arrived. There must have been thirty of them.

  “Get these men into zombie makeup,” the director said. “We will shoot their scene down in building four when they are ready!”

  I pulled the photo of the missing husband out of my wallet and walked up to each of the men, studying their faces. No dice! None of them were Mark Anthony.

  I need to find this man, I thought. And I can’t very well do that if I am on the set here.

  The first scene I was in that day was with Bela and all of these men made up as zombies. It took a long time because the camera had to move along in front of us as we walked down stairs.

  Thoughts of Patricia ran through my mind as we were going through the scene. I was personally relating to the character I was playing, who was also in love and obsessed with a woman. It was crazy. I was Charles Beaumont. Patricia was Madeline. I was crossing the line between reality and the movie. Life didn’t seem real to me until I was in front of the camera and film was rolling.

  ***

  Later that day, the entire cast and crew were driven to yet another set that had been used in the motion picture, Dracula.

  “I am a bit concerned about this,” Bela confided to me.

  “This movie may be too much like Dracula, and quite frankly, I want to get out of horror.”

  “It’s just one more movie,” I replied. “And you are a great actor. You will get other roles that are different.”

  “I hope so,” he replied. “In the meantime, are you going to take Jean up on her offer?”

  “No,” I said. “I have my own job to do here, and I don’t want to get involved any further with that kind of trouble.”

  “You don’t have to get involved with her,” he said, “outside of as a friend. But I think you should consider that role. You are a good actor, too.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.

  “You didn’t read the message that was left in your room last night?” he asked.

  “I went into my room and collapsed on the bed,” I answered. “No, I did not see any message.”

  “Yioko mentioned it to me,” he said. “Apparently Jean has offered you a role in her new movie, and has strong armed Warner Brothers into hiring you.”

  “And you are just now telling me this?” I asked.

  “I thought you got the message,” Lugosi said. “Word got out right away that you can act, and Jean got wind of it. She wants you to be in Red Dust with her and Clark Gable as soon as we wrap White Zombie.”

  “No,” I said. “I did not get the message.” My adrenalin shot through the roof of the car. “Jean wants me to be in her movie? Really?”

  “Yes,” Bela said. “I will take credit for launching your acting career, of course,” he said smiling. “And if you did not see that message, then I am assuming you missed the one from Marion as well.”

  “Marion Davies, I presume,” I replied.

  “There is no other,” Bela said. “She has a role for you in her motion picture as well, if you are interested.”

  “If I am interested!” I shouted. “Bela, if you are putting me on…”

  “No,” he answered. “It is serious. Peg O’ My Heart, the next Marion Davies movie. I forget the character they want you to play…Captain someone.”

  I sat stunned as we pulled up to the set. Bela had to prompt me to get out of the automobile.

  “Bay,” he said, tugging my jacket. “We are here. We have to go to work now.”

  I stared up at him in shock. “Bela?” I asked.

  “Yes, Bay?”

  “Do you think I should do it?”

 
“You are asking a question that you already have the answer to,” he said. “Now let’s go to work and pretend.”

  ***

  The days blurred together and shot by faster than a rabbit being chased by a pack of wild cats. We finished White Zombie under schedule. It only took eleven days.

  ***

  I didn’t have time to blink before I was on the set of Red Dust, chatting with Jean Harlow and Clark Gable.

  Lugosi’s agent was representing me, and it appeared I would be busy for some time to come.

  Half of the stars from the Graf were insisting that I appear in at least one of their motion pictures. As soon as I was finished with Red Dust, I was scheduled to play Captain Christopher Brent in the Marion Davies film, Peg O’ My Heart.

  Mary Pickford, Greta Garbo, Spencer Tracy, Joan Crawford, Gary Cooper, and Marlene Dietrich were all guaranteeing me future roles. And on my first day on the set of Red Dust, Groucho Marx sent me a telegram.

  Considering adding a fifth Marx Brother. You will be Bayo. But hold the Mayo. But it won’t be that much Payo. Okayo?

  But in all of this craziness, I hadn’t forgotten about Patricia or the mission I’d been sent on. I’d had hundreds of copies of the missing husband’s photo made, and they were being passed around on every movie set in Hollywood. Sure, it was costing me a lot more than the two hundred dollars she’d given me. I knew the dame was loaded but I never asked her for another nickel. I had made $850 for White Zombie, and it appeared I would be making more in the coming months. Besides, I told myself, I can’t possibly cover all of this ground alone.

  I was farming it out. Letting other people do the job for me. For once in my life, I was enjoying myself way too much to stop and chase the rabbit.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Bay, what the hell is going on?” Hobbs asked. My old friend had somehow tracked down Bela’s telephone number.

  “I am sorry I didn’t call you,” I said, “but things have been pretty hectic.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Hobbs replied. “But Bay, I have dozens of messages for you from magazines wanting articles about the Graf from you!”

  “No one knows I was on the Graf,” I said. “I wasn’t on the list, officially. I wasn’t mentioned in the reports, as far as I know.”