Oxford University Page 2

  “I can’t answer for Rick. I can answer for the studio. This scene will make the movie. What started out as a B-movie is now a brilliant piece of work worthy of an Oscar. Not only that, it will make money, a lot of money. If this scene is cut and redone with a lower intensity it will go back to being a ho-hum show.”

  At least my sister had stopped crying. A decision started amongst the group. All agreed with Miss Romanov and Mr. Monroe’s thoughts. I had taken the first step towards being considered an actor. Also as it stood the movie would play strong in the market place.

  I was of mixed thoughts. I wanted the movie to make money, a lot of money. It would vindicate me as an actor and also as the one who had come up with the movie idea.

  The next question was did I want to follow up on it. I had been ready to drop out of Hollywood and concentrate on school. If this movie played as we all thought I would have to follow up on the success. I might be able to wait six months but not much longer than that.

  We talked about all these issues until we started going in circles. Sharon Wallace finally summed it all up.

  “By using the scene we have a strong movie that will showcase Rick as an actor, plus making it profitable. By going this route it does not lock him out of dropping movies and going to school. It just keeps his options open.”

  Mary spoke up, “I can always tell Patti that my scary big brother will get her if she is mean to me.”

  It sounds like we have a plan. I told Mr. Monroe to leave it as is.

  Now the professionals, Mr. Monroe, Sharon Bronson, Anna Romanov, and Sharon Wallace got into a discussion of how to leak insider information on this scene to build some industry buzz without giving the climax away.

  At that point, our family returned home. Well after stopping at a Dairy Queen on the way. It is kind of weird going to a Dairy Queen in a limo. For some reason, people stared. I did hear my name in the background, but no one approached for an autograph which was nice.

  I changed clothes at home and saddled up George. I rode over to the new old airfield to see how things were going. Dad had mentioned the cleanup had started.

  For some reason, I pictured a hundred guys with trash bags picking up beer cans. There were a hundred guys working, but only three were on beer can duty. One of them was driving a D5 Caterpillar tractor shoving them into a pile. Then a front loader gathered them up and put them into a dump truck which hauled them to a pit which had been dug in a corner of the field. It looked like all the trash would go there then covered up, very efficient.

  The entrance road had been cleared of weeds and even the tree in the middle was gone. You could tell where the stump had been ground down. A simple resurfacing of the road and it would be in good condition.

  I hadn’t been there for more than a few minutes when a jeep came driving up to me. A man in a real smoky bear hat asked me what I was doing on government property. I explained who I was and he relaxed. Apparently, he was aware of the whole story. I was told I was welcome anytime.

  I was paying for the whole operation through my company so that seemed reasonable to me. He seemed to think he was giving me a gift. I hope that wasn’t going to be a problem down the road.

  I was wearing a vest to cover up my shoulder holster. When I leaned forward to shake his hand he saw it. From the expression on his face, I quickly pulled out the wallet with my Marshal’s badge. Whatever he had been going to say got lost as he turned and got in his jeep and drove away.

  I guess I would find out someday what was going on.

  Rather than wear out my welcome I left. I had seen what I had come for, the progress being made. At home, I told Mum and Dad about the whole incident. They were as puzzled as I was.

  Dad made a phone call to his higher-up contact at the Forest Service and got an answer. The Forest Service was not armed except under very special circumstances like a grizzly bear needing put down. To have an armed person from another service on what they considered their own private property was disconcerting.

  As a matter of fact, the guy in the field had called his headquarters for clarification. There was no problem he just wanted to know if their partnership was with another Federal Agency or Jackson Enterprises as he had been told.

  It turns out that I was reading way too much into the incident. You would think the Soviets had made me paranoid or something.

  Speaking of being paranoid I had decided that being out on horseback with only a pistol was not enough. I was going to buy a scabbard and a new Winchester lever-action rifle for heavier firepower. I didn’t feel any need to ask Mum and Dad if this was okay. I’m emancipated now.

  Besides, you could rely on them to always be on the side of heavier firepower.

  After dinner it was back to the textbooks, this time it was calculus. I had heard this was the bane of college students. For some reason, it almost sang to me, yeah flat and out of tune with no sense of rhythm.

  Eddie had a scout patrol meeting on Saturday so at 10:00 I took him over to his patrol leader’s house. I once again drove the Ford Fairlane. There was nothing wrong with it other than it wasn’t my T-Bird. I had planned to wait in the car while Eddie went in for his forty-five-minute meeting. They had to plan a menu for their next camping trip, decide who would bring what and what skills they would work on while they were there. The troop plan was to work on the hiking merit badge so they should pick something along those lines.

  Eddie just barely got into the house when the Patrol Leader’s mother came out and invited me to join them out back at their pool. I hemmed and hawed but gave in. I got an eyeful when we got to the pool. There were three girls about my age in bikinis. One was the sister of the boy Eddie was visiting and the others were next-door neighbors.

  Mom asked if I wanted anything to drink. As she went in to get the requested Coke I was joined by the girls. It quickly became apparent this was a bit of a setup. They knew Eddie was coming over, that me the actor was his older brother. It turns out that the patrols normally meet at the Scout House but they had convinced Donna Masters little brother Billy to have the meeting here instead.

  They confessed all this cheerfully. I could be churlish and resent this, but hey three pretty girls went out of their way to meet me. Who was I to complain?

  The other girls were Linda Harrison and Nancy Houston. Mrs. Masters brought me my Coke and joined us. I think this may have foiled part of the girl’s plans. What those plans might have been I could only imagine. I have quite an imagination.

  Anyway, it turned out to be a get to know a little about you and your life session. It was actually a pleasant conversation. In passing, I can share that two of the girls were very well endowed blondes. The third Nancy was slender and dark-haired.

  As our conversation went on I found that I appreciated Nancy’s dry wit over the other girl’s appearance. There was not enough time to really get to know the girls that well or for any of us to let the others know how we were reacting.

  When Eddie and the other guys came out we stood to leave and Donna handed me a note. It had three names and three phone numbers. Now I’m a guy and by definition not very smart when females are involved but I was smart enough to know this was the social equivalent of a stick of dynamite. Call one and the others would want to claw that girl’s and my eyes out. Fortunately, they were only five-digit numbers and the first was the same on all of them. After a quick glance, I handed the note back to Donna.

  When we got into the Ford I pulled a pen out of glove-box and wrote the four digits I had memorized on the back of my hand.

  While Eddie filled me in on their camping plans I tried to figure out how to call Nancy without causing war to break out. It would have to be after my trip to England so maybe the other girls wouldn’t be upset when I called her and not them. One can dream can’t one?

  Boring as it may seem other than exercising I spent the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday studying and then packing for my Monday morning flight.

  Chapter 3

  I was a
ble to get my exercises in before leaving for the airport. Mum went over things with me before I left. Yes, Mum, I have my ticket, yes Mum I have my hotel information, yes Mum I packed clean clothes including underwear, yes Mum I have my passports, yes Mum I have dollars and pounds. Boy, forget to pack shirts on a trip just once and they never forget.

  I had also remembered the textbooks I was studying so I read all the way to LAX. That drive seemed to get longer all the time. I would be glad when the airstrip outback of the forest was finished and I could fly to LAX. That reminded me I had to price out hangers or rental facilities at LAX. A rich man’s work is never done.

  As usual, I was flying TWA. From the moment the curbside skycap took my luggage to the exchanging my ticket for boarding passes I was recognized by the staff. This made the whole event smooth and cheerful.

  The lady at the check-in desk was taken aback when she asked if I had my passport.

  “Yes Mum,” was not what she was expecting. She quickly recovered by asking if I had remembered clean underwear. At that point, I gave up and nodded yes.

  I had coffee in the Ambassador Club. They paged me to their front desk. They had a cart ready to take me to my gate. What service. It also had me signing autographs at the gate rather than in the hallway while trying to get to my flight. As they say, not their first rodeo.

  It was easy to disengage when my flight was called for boarding. They called me up separately and before other passengers. That way I was able to get an aisle seat in row two. The rest of the first-class passengers had to scramble to get a seat that they wanted. Maybe someday they would be able to assign seats before boarding.

  It would make it easier for everyone. I hated to know what it would be like in coach class. Looking to the back of the aircraft you could see the aisle and window seats filling up as people boarded. This continued until all of those were taken. Then the center seats started to fill in. Fortunately, not many people carried luggage on with them.

  A big beefy guy sat next to me on the leg to St. Louis. He pulled out a spreadsheet and was making notes before we got off the ground. While he did that I had more coffee and then breakfast when we were airborne. He kept working the whole trip. I did pull out a textbook and read until I felt the urge to take a nap.

  As we were taxiing to the gate at St. Louis the guy spoke up for the first and only time on the flight.

  “Enjoy it while you can kid, it won’t be as easy when you have to earn a living.”

  “Good advice.”

  What else could I say? We didn’t have time for a conversation and I didn’t want to be rude.

  I didn’t bother to get off the plane as it was a short layover. I did give the flight crew autographs while we were waiting. Since I was the only one in first class that didn’t get off the plane it didn’t open up the floodgates.

  Well almost. Murphy caught up with me as they announced a half-hour delay due to a minor maintenance issue. One of the flight attendants asked if I would go to the back of the plane and give autographs to the coach passengers. It would make the time go faster for everyone and keep them from getting restless.

  Luckily I had a stack of studio photos in my briefcase. An announcement was made for those that had stayed on the plane that they had arranged for a Hollywood star to have an autograph session.

  I proceeded to work my way to the back of the plane. Besides giving out over fifty autographs I collected seven phone numbers, three from young ladies, three from not so young ladies and one guy. I also got pinched on the butt. I swear the lady that did it was seventy-five if she was a day.

  When I glared at her she just said, “At my age, you get what you can when and where you can.”

  I couldn’t refute that logic so grinned and moved away.

  The leg from St. Louis to New York was uneventful. I had a three-hour layover and boarded for London. The nice thing about being in New York was no one recognized me or if they did, they ignored me.

  The flight to London was boring, well nothing was happening on the overnight flight. I finally gave up and covered with a blanket and slept like most of the other passengers.

  Breakfast was served about two hours out. I had packed a small carry on with clean underwear, a shirt, and my shaving kit. I then went into one of the very small restrooms on the plane and cleaned up. I wish I had a film of the contortions I had to go through to change clothes. Between new clothes, washing up and shaving it was worth it though as I looked and felt fresh.

  I had learned the value of a good appearance in Hollywood. While most of the other passengers looked like refugees I came across as put together. A final cup of coffee and it was England here I come.

  At passport control, I used my updated British passport which listed me as Sir Richard Jackson. They processed me politely but I didn’t feel my title gained me anything.

  I had nothing to declare so my entry was easy. Outside of the International Terminal, there was a limo from the Plaza on the Strand waiting for me. The driver whisked me to the hotel where my luggage disappeared while I checked in. The bellhop who escorted me to my room was all Sir this and Sir that. I figured it would cost me about a dollar a Sir.

  Once settled in I took a nap being certain to phone for a wakeup call in two hours. After a nice sleep, I shower and dressed in jeans, shirt with a heavy pullover sweater. I then went for a walk around the area.

  I ended up at Westminster Abby so went on a tour. After that, it was a roundabout trip through Kensington and Piccadilly Circus. It was then back past Waterloo Station and St. Paul’s Cathedral. It was a long windy trip but I enjoyed it immensely. The weather was typical English for January, cold with a misty fog which was slow to clear. At the front, January.

  After being out all afternoon I was ready to return to my room. I took another shower, donned a suit and had dinner in the main dining room. I was the youngest one there by almost fifty years. Not a place to go for excitement. After dinner, I spent the evening studying and called it an early night.

  On Tuesday I felt really good. Dressing for a run I talked the front desk into having me driven over to Hyde Park for my morning run. As I was running along Rotten Row a person on horseback almost bowled me over. Apparently, they and the horse were paying no attention as they were coming towards me.

  I had to jump out of their way.

  I let out a sharp, “Watch it!”

  The person, a female by the clothes didn’t acknowledge me other than a rude hand jester. I did notice the markings on the horse which was a white blaze between its eyes continuing on down its nose.

  That certainly had my heart rate up. From there I turned and jogged back to the hotel. I had found trying to run at my full, well still not that fast, speed on city streets was not a good idea. I could run into things and it got police attention as though I were a thief running for it.

  The return trip did cool me down. A hot shower, a full English breakfast of bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, toast, coffee, and juice, and I was good to go for the day. Since my appointment with Mr. Norman was after lunch I went to the British Museum.

  I could spend days in this group of buildings. This morning I browsed through the recently rebuilt Coins and Medals department. It had been destroyed in the war. The more ancient coins reminded me of that cup in the safe at home. I wonder what its story is; I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

  I had lunch at a greasy fish and chips shop and then had to find a place to wash my hands. A look into their loo drove me away. It was in Bloomsbury still near the museum so I used one of their public water closets. I was trying to think in British English to fit in.

  From there I caught a black cab to Buckingham Palace. I thought the cab driver would be impressed with my destination, but apparently, he took people there all the time. Thinking about it, he probably did, they called them tourist!

  I had remembered to wear my Greyhound pin on my lapel, so that with my passport and a phone call to ensure my arrival was expected a footman led me to Mr. Norman.


  After the usual pleasantries and inquiries about my trip, I brought up the subject of my trip. What were the requirements for me to sit for my O-levels and possibly the A-levels?

  He explained that anyone could pay for and sit for the levels. The question was I ready for them. We both agreed that the O- levels should be no problem but the A-level might because of differences in the US and British instructions. They were given by approved private companies. The same company would also provide a readiness test for each exam you wanted to sit for. It was common for students outside of England wanting to sit for the exams so provisions had been made.

  He had set me up with a group called International Testing. They specialized in seeing where foreign students fit within the English curriculum. Another advantage of their service was that they didn’t have testing seasons. Normal testing groups had registration deadlines, exam dates, etc. They needed this as they were handling the bulk of English students.

  International Testing did everything by special appointment. Of course, they charged about five times as much per test. This seemed to be the best route for me so Mr. Norman called and confirmed an appointment for me to meet with one of their councilor’s tomorrow morning.

  After that, he and I had a conversation about where my life was going. He wanted to know if I was doing any more songs with Frank Sinatra. I told him that Mr. Sinatra was on me to do another duet. He asked if he could get a recording when released and have our autographs.

  It seemed so weird that this stern-looking older man was a fan of such music. You would think he would be attending Beethoven concerts or listening to highbrow chamber music. Actually, as we conversed I found out that he did.

  He was most interested when I told him that I had a six-passenger plane being delivered in March or April. He wanted to know if I planned to bring it to England with me if I attended school here. I hadn’t thought about it, but it would open a world of possibilities.