American Dreams (38 page)

She said, 'I see,' though she didn't.

'We can't stand no more of what happened in Jersey,' B.B. said.

'Sophie's out of danger, but that's just luck. She could be lying dead this minute.'

As if they'd rehearsed, Kelly took his turn. 'Cameras are expensive.

Film is expensive.'

B.B. said, 'Fddie's still in traction.'

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'Yes, I'm going to visit him later today.'

Kelly fiddled with a cigar butt in a heavy glass tray. 'What we want to tell you is, we've decided to close this office for a while.'

'I decided,' B.B. said. 'I don't want more trouble for the people who work for Pal. We're going to run away from it.'

Kelly said, 'California.'

'Edison's a well-known cheapskate,' B.B. said. 'Maybe he won't buy railroad tickets for his thugs. Maybe Purvis will leave us alone.'

'Yeah, and maybe trees will grow dollar bills,' Kelly said.

'Doesn't matter,' B.B. said. 'We're going.'

Fritzi interrupted for the first time. 'Who is going?'

'The important folks,' Kelly said.

'One of which is you,' B.B. said.

Fritzi sat a moment, collecting herself. 'Mr. Pelzer -- Mr. Kelly - that's very kind, but I honestly don't want to work in California.'

'Not even for the winter?' Kelly said.

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'No, sir.'

'Why not?' B.B. said. 'How can you beat it when you got sunshine every day? Colonel Bill Selig from Chicago, he's there already, dodging the Patents crowd. Essanay, Lubin, Nestor, they all got location companies set up. Biograph's gone West the past couple of winters, and I hear they may move for good. Maybe they all will, including us.'

From his waistcoat he fished a crumpled scrap of newsprint. 'Listen to this. "It is predicted by theatrical men that our city will be the moving picture center of America next year."' He thrust the scrap at Fritzi. LLos Angeles Times.1

Fritzi stared at the newsprint, which seemed to blur appropriately to match her confusion. She started to shake her head. Kelly's voice took on a note of irascibility. 'Don't be so quick to turn it down. You have a future with us.'

'Right,' B.B. exclaimed. 'This business is growing like a rabbit farm.

The trade papers say there's ten thousand moving-picture theaters in the U.S., and eight or ten new ones open up every day. Most of 'em do a daily change - a new bill seven times a week. Can't make pictures fast enough for that kind of market. Know something else? Youngsters are packing the theaters. Fact! Weekdays they play hooky; Saturday and Sunday they drag mom and pop. We're educating a whole new audience that's gone wild for pictures. The greenhorns pile off the boats from Hamburg and Cork, and before you know it they're lining up for tickets. In hick burgs in B.B. Decides 235

Ohio and Iowa they're ripping up the old opera house to make it a nickelodeon.

In little dusty spots in Texas and Oklahoma, cowboys ride twenty miles on a Saturday night to see a picture show.'

'Unless they're Baptist,' Kelly muttered. 'We still got a problem with the Baptists.'

Eager as a child wanting to please, B.B. leaned forward. 'We're riding the crest, Fritzi. California's only the start. We need you.'

Snow from the bleak sky drifted past the window. She felt cold, and unhappy, because she hated to disappoint people she'd grown to like.

B.B. was one.

'I appreciate it, I'm very grateful. But' - a deep breath - 'I still want to make my career on the stage.'

'Ah, hell, I told you.' Kelly glowered at Fritzi. 'So stay here. Just forget
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we were prepared to write a regular contract for your services. Hang around New York, sling hash, sell hankies. Who cares?'

'Now, now,' B.B. said, running over to grasp Fritzi's hands. 'Everybody calm down. Did you catch what Al said about a contract?'

'What are you making now?'

'Six-fifty a day when I work.'

'That's thirty-nine dollars if you work the regular six-day week. How does seventy a week sound? I mean, as a guaranteed salary. You draw it whether you're playing or sitting on your tushie.'

A born salesman, B.B. brimmed with enthusiasm, chafing her hands and fairly dancing around her chair. 'You're not signing up to live the rest of your life in California. We're just trying it for the winter. We'll throw in some nice extras. Take care of your rail fare and moving expenses. Pay your rent for a month or two while you get settled. Say, and how about this? Do you know how to drive a motor car?'

Taken aback, she said, 'What?'

Kelly snatched the cigar out of his mouth. 'A car? For Christ's sake, Benny, what is this? We didn't discuss a car.'

'Al, you're overwrought,' B.B. said. 'Al takes the loss of equipment hard, Fritzi. What I'm talking about, Al, is a car available to be driven by all our important players, including this little gel. A Pal company car.'

'Yeah? On whose money?'

'Ours, Al. And that's my final word, so do me a favor and shut up. If Fntzi goes to California, and I am down on my knees praying she does, she's going in style.'

Kelly stomped to the window and glowered at the falling snow. B.B.

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lifted her from her chair, wrapped an arm around her waist, and guided her to the window.

'Look out there. Look at that mess. Oh, did you see that? That man there, he fell down in the slush, he's ruined a fine fifty-dollar overcoat. You don't have that in southern California. You enjoy beautiful weather. In your personal Pal auto. With the top lowered!'

He saw her hesitancy, isn't that good enough? What else can we offer
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to persuade you?'

'Nothing, sir. The salary's very attractive, and the car too. But it's such a big step.'

'You can't turn it down,' Kelly said, practically threatening her.

Fritzi gazed at the snow. She'd endured New York's dark winters, chasing stage roles, and how many had she gotten? Of those few, how many had carried her to heights of success? Exactly none.

The steam pipes emitted strange whistles and pings. On the floor below someone banged their radiator, shouted for heat. Kelly sucked on his teeth, looked at her in a calculating way.

'Don't forget Purvis. You know he got to Nix. Hired him to shoot up the camera and you too. I saw Nix aim for your legs.'

Pale, Fritzi could only nod and try to evade the memory. B.B. threw a protective arm around her shoulder. 'Easy, Al. She's been through plenty.'

'Then she ought to face facts. There's no guarantee we won't see Purvis in California, but it's a damn long way out there. You stay in this town, sister, you'll be dealing with him forever. He's got some kind of crazy hate for you, didn't you say so? Do you want to live with that?'

Fritzi started to shake. She fought it, kept her voice as level as she could. 'I despise the idea of running, Mr. Kelly. I've always tried to be a strong person. Stand up to things.'

'Sure, sure, we understand,' B.B. said in a soothing way. 'Nobody wants to be a coward, but we're not talking about that. There's no shame in taking care of yourself. This is no dime novel we're in the middle of, no sir. This is real. Nix was shooting real bullets. If not to do away with you, then to hurt and maybe cripple you. Don't take a swami to figure that out.'

She was surprised at the faintness of her voice when she said, 'When will the company be leaving?'

'Before Christmas,' Kelly said.

'No, after,' B.B. said. 'Sophie and I got to celebrate Hanukkah too.'

Kelly's response was a bored shrug.

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'I'll think about it, I really will. I'd like to discuss it with my friend Hobart, and with Eddie.'

B.B. patted her shoulder. 'Take your time. Take a whole day. Two if you need it. Come back and we'll ink the contract on the spot. You'll be happy, Fritzi, I promise.'

Fritzi's long face expressed considerable doubt.

She visited Eddie at the New York Hospital on lower Broadway.

Approaching in the avenue of leafless trees leading to the building, she met Rita Hearn on her way out. She asked Rita about her reaction to California.

'Oh, we're eager. I hate this climate. The children are excited about spending the winter where it's warm.'

Eddie's bed was one of many in, a dark, gloomy hall whose painted floor resounded with every footstep. The hall reeked of carbolic and bed pans. Eddie's leg was wrapped and elevated in a web of ropes and pulleys.

It was the middle of the afternoon; many patients were asleep, but he was awake and alert. As she drew up the visitor's chair, he told her that the Rumanian gentleman on his right was suffering a rupture, while the unmoving lump on his left was a bank president who'd attempted suicide.

Fritzi quickly sketched her dilemma. Eddie nodded. 'I know all about it. Pelzer's been here. He said you don't want to go.'

'I realize it's an opportunity--'

'And we're only trying it for the winter, don't forget.'

She scratched the back of her left hand. Her knuckles were red, her skin dry and cracked from the cold. In California you could forget about gloves, overcoats, overshoes, scarves, and similar burdens.

'I hate to give up serious acting.'

'You're doing serious acting.'

'We can debate that point till judgment day. Suppose I stayed with Pal a year or two. What could I look forward to? I don't want to be the queen of the prairies forever, and I'm sure that's what B.B. and Kelly intend.'

'I'll make a deal. If you go, I'll do all I can to keep you from getting stuck playing the Lone Indian's girlfriend till you're ninety-five. We'll figure something out, 1 promise. Let's get away from Purvis and the Patents crowd first.'

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The ruptured Rumanian rolled over and cried, 'Nurse. I need the pan.

Hurry.' A muscular woman in a starched uniform ran to his rescue.

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Eddie reached out with his left hand, spilling trade newspapers on the floor as he grasped hers. She looked at him closely, saw the lines of a new maturity in his face. 'I don't want to make a wrong decision, Eddie.'

'Think of all you'd gain. A regular paycheck whether you work or not.

Free rent for a while. That car B.B. offered. Don't you want to learn to motor?'

'Of course, it's the modern thing.'

'Think of the ocean. The mountains. Orange juice. Good-looking men with suntans. What do you say, Fritzi?'

To her astonishment, Hobart's opinion was similar to Eddie's. He encouraged the move. Not on artistic grounds, certainly, but for the sake of personal safety.

'Consider it temporary. Until that vicious man finds another target.'

She saw Purvis then - his strange yellow-specked eyes. Elephant Pearly, he said. / never forget.

'Perhaps you're right. There's no need for it to be permanent, is there?'

She wrote Eustacia Van Sant in England:

So it's California. Should I have said yes? Eustacia. I can't be sure. Do we ever recognize the right decision until long after we've made the wrong one?

46 A Toast to War

The Imperial German Army staged its autumn maneuvers in the mountains and valleys around Wurzberg, a charming old city on the River Main where feudal princes of the region had once had summer homes. For four long, tiring days - fortunately free of rain - Paul and Sammy photographed entrenchments, cavalry charges, mock battles with
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live artillery shells lobbed dangerously near skirmishing troops. The fiftyone-year-old Kaiser took active part, directing the games by field A Toast to War

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telephone from his command position on the heights. Paul filmed the emperor striding back and forth under the eagle and iron cross banner that proclaimed corr mit uns. Wilhelm II was happy and enthusiastic as a boy, although no boy playing soldier had ever dressed in mirror-bright jackboots, a long military overcoat bedecked with medals and ropes of braid, the burnished silver eagle helmet of the cuirassier regiment to which he belonged. The Kaiser was a loud, often bellicose man with a showy mustache whose upturned points he kept elaborately waxed. His gloved left hand usually rested on his hip or his sword pommel; the arm was withered, a relic of a childhood injury. In one of his more famous outbursts against his grandmother's people, he once said the deformity was proof of English blood.

On the fourth night, the Kaiser, three of his six sons who were in the military, and almost three hundred officers gathered for a festive banquet.

Rather than dining in the Residenz, one of the largest and loveliest Baroque palaces in Europe, the Kaiser ordered that the celebration be held in the great hall of Marienberg Fortress, a more warlike setting on the heights across the river. Two huge hearths lit the hall, along with some temporary electric lights on stands that cast a weird white glare and gave the celebrants a curious spectral appearance. The banquet featured boar, pheasant, and enough beer to explode the kidneys of a regiment.

Paul and Sammy circulated before dinner, Sammy wide-eyed at so much gold braid and brass, so many plumes and decorations. The Kaiser admired members of the Prussian Junker class and collected them for his personal circle. A brigadier got down on hands and knees arid imitated pigs and cows while the Kaiser's sons, Prince Joachim, Prince Frederick, and Crown Prince William, whinnied like jackasses to add to the merriment.

The Kaiser held his sides and laughed mightily.

A sharp-faced blond officer drew Paul aside with a nod at Sammy, who was unaware of being scrutinized. One word came out of the man's slit-like mouth.

"JudeT

'My helper? I don't know.7 It had never crossed Paul's mind to wonder whether Sammy was a Jew. 'Is it important?'

'Be discreet with your dinner companions. They might not care for his company,' the officer said, and walked off. Paul stared after him, stupefied.

He knew that Europe was a seedbed of anti-Semitism, with no places
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worse than Germany and Austria. Sometimes, busy with things that made sense, he forgot.