Not that I matter personally. I’m just another joe working my way through life—a little cog in a big machine.” He lowered his eyes in humility. “A
very
big machine. Do you know what our investment is, in plant and contracts and unreleased film and all?”
He paused rhetorically. Through the window to my right, I could see hangarlike sound stages and a series of open sets: Brownstone Front, Midwestern Town, South Sea Village, and the Western Street where dozens of celluloid heroes had taken the death walk. The studio seemed to be shut down, and the sets were deserted, dream scenes abandoned by the minds that had dreamed them.
“Close to fifteen million,” Frost said in the tone of a priestrevealing a mystery. “A huge investment. And you know what its safety depends on?”
“Sun spots?”
“It isn’t sun spots,” he said gently. “The subject isn’t funny, fifteen million dollars isn’t funny. I’ll tell you what it depends on. You know it, but I’ll tell you anyway.” His fingers formed a Gothic arch a few inches in front of his nose. “Number one is glamour, and number two is goodwill. The two things are interdependent and interrelated. Some people think the public will swallow anything since the war—any stinking crud—but I know different. I’m a student of the problem. They swallow just so much, and then we lose them. Especially these days, when the industry’s under attack from all sides. We got to keep our glamour dry for the public. We got to hold on to our strategic goodwill. It’s psychological warfare, Lew, and I’m on the firing line.”
“So you send your troopers out to push citizens around. You want a testimonial from me?”
“You’re not just any old ordinary citizen, Lew. You get around so fast and you make so many mistakes. You go bucketing up to Lance Leonard’s house and invade his privacy and throw your weight around. I was on the phone to Lance just now. It wasn’t smart what you did, and it wasn’t ethical, and nobody’s going to forget it.”
“It wasn’t smart,” I admitted.
“But it was brilliant compared with the rest of it. Merciful God, Lew, I thought you had some feeling for situations. When we get to the payoff—you trying to force your way into the house of a lady who shall be nameless—” He spread his arms wide and dropped them, unable to span the extent of my infamy.
“What goes on in that house?” I said.
He munched the inside corner of his mouth, watching my face. “If you were smart, as smart as I used to think, youwouldn’t ask that question. You’d let it lie. But you’re so interested in facts, I’ll tell you the one big fact. The less you know, the better for you. The more you know, the worse for you. You got a reputation for discretion. Use it.”
“I thought I was.”
“Uh-uh, you’re not that stupid, kiddo. Nobody is. Your neck’s out a mile, and you know it. You follow the thought, or do I have to spell it out in words of one syllable?”
“Spell it out.”
He got up from behind the desk. His sick yellow glance avoided mine as he moved around me. He leaned on the back of my chair. His allusive little whisper was scented with some spicy odor from his hair or mouth:
“A nice fellow like you that percolates around where he isn’t wanted—he could stop percolating period.”
I stood up facing him. “I was waiting for that one, Frost. I wondered when we were getting down to threats.”
“Call me Leroy. Hell, I wouldn’t threaten you.” He repudiated the thought with movements of his shoulders and hands. “I’m not a man of violence, you know that. Mr. Graff doesn’t like violence, and I don’t like it. That is, when I can prevent it. The trouble with a high-powered operation like this one, sometimes it runs over people by accident when they keep getting in the way. It’s our business to make friends, see, and we got friends all over, Vegas, Chicago, all over. Some of them are kind of rough, and they might
very
big machine. Do you know what our investment is, in plant and contracts and unreleased film and all?”
He paused rhetorically. Through the window to my right, I could see hangarlike sound stages and a series of open sets: Brownstone Front, Midwestern Town, South Sea Village, and the Western Street where dozens of celluloid heroes had taken the death walk. The studio seemed to be shut down, and the sets were deserted, dream scenes abandoned by the minds that had dreamed them.
“Close to fifteen million,” Frost said in the tone of a priestrevealing a mystery. “A huge investment. And you know what its safety depends on?”
“Sun spots?”
“It isn’t sun spots,” he said gently. “The subject isn’t funny, fifteen million dollars isn’t funny. I’ll tell you what it depends on. You know it, but I’ll tell you anyway.” His fingers formed a Gothic arch a few inches in front of his nose. “Number one is glamour, and number two is goodwill. The two things are interdependent and interrelated. Some people think the public will swallow anything since the war—any stinking crud—but I know different. I’m a student of the problem. They swallow just so much, and then we lose them. Especially these days, when the industry’s under attack from all sides. We got to keep our glamour dry for the public. We got to hold on to our strategic goodwill. It’s psychological warfare, Lew, and I’m on the firing line.”
“So you send your troopers out to push citizens around. You want a testimonial from me?”
“You’re not just any old ordinary citizen, Lew. You get around so fast and you make so many mistakes. You go bucketing up to Lance Leonard’s house and invade his privacy and throw your weight around. I was on the phone to Lance just now. It wasn’t smart what you did, and it wasn’t ethical, and nobody’s going to forget it.”
“It wasn’t smart,” I admitted.
“But it was brilliant compared with the rest of it. Merciful God, Lew, I thought you had some feeling for situations. When we get to the payoff—you trying to force your way into the house of a lady who shall be nameless—” He spread his arms wide and dropped them, unable to span the extent of my infamy.
“What goes on in that house?” I said.
He munched the inside corner of his mouth, watching my face. “If you were smart, as smart as I used to think, youwouldn’t ask that question. You’d let it lie. But you’re so interested in facts, I’ll tell you the one big fact. The less you know, the better for you. The more you know, the worse for you. You got a reputation for discretion. Use it.”
“I thought I was.”
“Uh-uh, you’re not that stupid, kiddo. Nobody is. Your neck’s out a mile, and you know it. You follow the thought, or do I have to spell it out in words of one syllable?”
“Spell it out.”
He got up from behind the desk. His sick yellow glance avoided mine as he moved around me. He leaned on the back of my chair. His allusive little whisper was scented with some spicy odor from his hair or mouth:
“A nice fellow like you that percolates around where he isn’t wanted—he could stop percolating period.”
I stood up facing him. “I was waiting for that one, Frost. I wondered when we were getting down to threats.”
“Call me Leroy. Hell, I wouldn’t threaten you.” He repudiated the thought with movements of his shoulders and hands. “I’m not a man of violence, you know that. Mr. Graff doesn’t like violence, and I don’t like it. That is, when I can prevent it. The trouble with a high-powered operation like this one, sometimes it runs over people by accident when they keep getting in the way. It’s our business to make friends, see, and we got friends all over, Vegas, Chicago, all over. Some of them are kind of rough, and they might
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