“You set the camera up there, on the crane, and you move it along what would be the flight plan. Pilot watches the film, he knows what he’s going to see when he gets there. The exact topography.” A craftsman’s pride.
Ben walked over. Mountains, cities, before you released the bombs. Up close, just plaster and canvas, like a train village under a Christmas tree.
“This must have cost-”
Bunny nodded. “It was the time. We had special effects do it after hours, so you run up overtime. The Army just paid for the materials.” He caught Ben’s surprise. “Our contribution to the war effort. We didn’t just hand out doughnuts at the Canteen.”
“What are you going to do with it now?”
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? It’s just sitting here taking up space, but Mr. L can’t bring himself to get rid of it. The Army doesn’t want it. They can do actual aerial photography now. Funny thing is, the film quality’s not as good. They were better off with this.”
They made a circle of the back lot past the prop department, a hangar full of furniture, and the New York set. Everyone nodded or acknowledged Bunny, as if he were taking roll call. Lasner caught up with them on Sound Stage 5, in front of a plywood Hellcat fighter, sliced in half. A few grips were adjusting lights, fixed on the painted flat sky, but everyone else had gone to lunch.
“Well, at last,” Lasner said, putting his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Everything all right at home?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
“Hell of a thing. Anyway, you’re here. Bunny have you all set up? Anything you need, see him. It’s like talking to me.” He turned to Bunny. “What’s this about Rosemary’s dress?”
“Good news travels fast.”
“I happened to be over there.”
“What did you think?”
“What do I know? You’re the one knows this stuff.” He paused. “She never complains.”
“She’s nervous, that’s all. It’ll be fine.” He looked at Lasner. “It’s already paid for.”
“Don’t pinch. This is the picture we put her across. So what’s that worth?”
“I’ll look at the dress,” Bunny said, case closed. Ben watched the play between them, a practiced volley. It’s like talking to me.
Lasner nodded, then turned to the plane.
“Two more weeks on this. Think we can get it out before November?”
“We still have to score it.”
“The longer we wait- Who the hell’s going to want to see a war picture now? Would you?” he said to Ben. “I’m asking you. Seriously. These last two years, you show any goddam thing, you do business. Now we got all these guys coming back, kids over there seeing things, like you did. What do they want? Maybe they’re sick of this,” he said, gesturing to the plane. “War pictures.”
“Not with Dick Marshall,” Bunny said, indicating the pilot seat. “He’s had three in a row.”
“That’s no guarantee. Maybe Hayworth, that’s it. And that prick Cohn has her.” He cocked his head toward the studio across Gower, then looked at Ben. “You got the message about Saturday? Just a few people. Bring somebody. Nice.”
He left them at the door, heading back to his phones.
“It makes him crazy,” Bunny said. “Cohn having Hayworth.”
“Why?”
“They both started out down here. Same street. You don’t expect to get a star like that, not here. Well, maybe Rosemary will do it for him. She’s worked hard enough.”
“I thought it was all magic.”
“It helps if you help. Let’s get you back.”
“I met Cohn in Europe,” Ben said as they walked.
“You get around,” Bunny said, raising an eyebrow, having fun with it.
“I was an interpreter.”
“Cohn into English?”
Ben smiled. “Almost. He’s a little rough around the edges.”
“And he speaks so warmly of you.”
A policeman passed, touching his fingers to his hat. “Mr. Jenkins.”
“Bert,” Bunny said back.
“Not an actor?”
“Studio police. We have our own force.”
“Under you. Operations,” Ben said, thinking.
“It’s a small force.”
“And who deals with the outside police?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, runs interference. If somebody gets in trouble.”
“You think this is Metro? Benny Thau and his house detectives? There, no wonder. Just handling Mickey’s a full-time job. The rest of us just toddle off to bed and say our prayers like good children. Why, do you need to get a ticket fixed? Already?”
Ben shook his head. “Thank somebody.”
“For what?”
“Getting an accident report changed.”
“Changed.”
“To make it an accident. You know Danny Kohler was my brother.”
Bunny looked at him carefully. “Mr. L mentioned it.”
“Somebody at Continental got the report on him changed. Saved the family some embarrassment, so-”
“According to whom?”
“The police.” Ben shrugged. “People talk.”
“Through their hats. We don’t have that kind of influence.”
“Everybody says the studios have an in with the police.”
“Look, before you run away with yourself, let me tell you how things work. Somebody drives when he’s had a little too much to drink and naturally Publicity wants to keep that out of the papers. So we make a nice donation to the Benevolent Fund and people are nice back. When they can be. Strictly parking ticket stuff. The kind of thing you’re talking about-nobody here can do that.”
“Not even you? I thought you might-”
“Not even me. In fact, not me.”
“I just wanted to thank-”
“And I’d hear about it. I hear most things on the lot. Somebody’s telling you stories. Anyway, why would we? Your brother wasn’t at Continental.”
“Maybe he had a friend here,” Ben said, looking directly at him.
Bunny returned the look, then sighed. “Do you know what our police do? They check the padlocks, make sure the lights are turned off, equipment’s where it should be, not walking off the lot. They’re guards. They’re not on the phone with downtown fixing cases.”
“Somebody was,” Ben said.
Bunny stared at him, a standoff. “So you keep saying.”
He turned away, leading them around a corner. “Here we are, B building. I gather you asked for Frank Cabot for the narration. I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t take him off a picture if it’s shooting. I put a contract player list on your pile-in case he’s not available. When do you want to record?”
“It’s not written yet.”
“You’ll want to hop to, then. Not really something for the hols, is it? And Hal Jasper likes to take his time. It’s worth it, but you can’t hurry him. You’re just in here.”
Walking a little faster now, eager to get away, but then caught at the door.
“Bunny, Lou Katz. You remember Julie? Julie Sherman. She’s making a test.”
