chomped down harder on his cigar and grunted.
Ron wasn’t sure what such a grunt meant, but there was no stopping him now. He made a mental picture of the notes he had taken at the library and said quickly, “I couldn’t agree more with Bosley Crowther in the New York Times when he said, ‘There are no more worlds left to conquer.’”
“Hmmmmmm,” said Zanuck in a somewhat more agreeable grunt.
Ron went on. “And I’d have to say also that Pinky, so daring and ahead of its time, was a film that advanced the cause of equality.”
Miss Demick said something to Zanuck in French at this point, and as she and Zanuck chuckled lightly, Ron cursed his mother for not having insisted he take French instead of Spanish in high school.
Assisting Zanuck onto the down ramp, Ron said, “And my friends and I all agree Citizen Kane ranks as the best screenplay ever written.”
Ron smiled, convinced he had remembered his notes so well, and Zanuck removed the cigar from his mouth, turned to Ron, and said softly, “/ didn’t produce Citizen Kane “
Gulp!
Five minutes later, after a fast zip around the Product Salon, Ron led Zanuck and his mistress back to the entrance. “Have a good evening,” said Ron in farewell, again sticking out his right hand.
Zanuck took the cigar out of his mouth with his left hand and with his right hand took hold of Ron’s open palm. “Thank you for the attention,” said the mogul. “You’re a bright young man; you’ll do well. Very well, indeed.”
Ron remained immobile as Zanuck left the pavilion.
Did you hear that?
You’ll do well … very well, indeed. Darryl F. Zanuck had said it to him, to Ron Zinelli, one N, two L’s. Could there be any higher endorsement, any better encouragement? Ron had spent years trying to convince himself he was different from everyone else.
“You’re one in ten million!” his mother used to tell him.
At last he was convinced. His mother had not exaggerated, after all. It was true. He was special.
No doubt about it, Ron would have to start thinking about a more permanent job tomorrow. Something in New York, something in the arts, something in le show business.
He stuck his hands into his pants pockets and found himself rigid with excitement.
My God, power was sexy!
18
By the time Janet Evans arrived at the World’s Fair late in the afternoon, she was in a foul mood. A headache plus the pressures of work and the heat were all working against her. Still, she had to take her account executives around from pavilion to pavilion, so she decided she’d better shape up, and fast.
There was still another ten minutes before she had to meet the men from the Vitalis account, so she ducked into the bar at the Indonesian Pavilion and ordered herself a large dry Beefeater martini and went to the ladies’ room to freshen up.
One look in the mirror assured her she was fine. Her short blond hair was neatly in place, her makeup fresh, her gingham dress crisp and perfectly fitted to her slender body. Still, she combed her hair, added another layer of lipstick, and adjusted her belt. She was ready for her gin.
Ten minutes later, relaxed and smiling, she met the executives outside the Johnson’s Wax Pavilion.
Johnson’s was exhibiting a three-screen film, To Be Alive. With all the billions of dollars spent on gadgetry and gimmicks around Flushing Meadow, everyone seemed to agree that the most impressive exhibit at the fair was this twelve-minute film. Janet knew it would be an excellent way to put the men in a good mood for the rest of the evening. Sure enough, the moment it ended, the three men suggested they celebrate with a drink.
Janet took them over to the bar at the top of the Port of Authority heliport for a couple of Gibson martinis. As they drank, they talked about the Vitalis commercial that was scheduled to shoot in three days. They still hadn’t come up with a satisfactory actor to play the baseball player. The Vitalis people wanted
Ron wasn’t sure what such a grunt meant, but there was no stopping him now. He made a mental picture of the notes he had taken at the library and said quickly, “I couldn’t agree more with Bosley Crowther in the New York Times when he said, ‘There are no more worlds left to conquer.’”
“Hmmmmmm,” said Zanuck in a somewhat more agreeable grunt.
Ron went on. “And I’d have to say also that Pinky, so daring and ahead of its time, was a film that advanced the cause of equality.”
Miss Demick said something to Zanuck in French at this point, and as she and Zanuck chuckled lightly, Ron cursed his mother for not having insisted he take French instead of Spanish in high school.
Assisting Zanuck onto the down ramp, Ron said, “And my friends and I all agree Citizen Kane ranks as the best screenplay ever written.”
Ron smiled, convinced he had remembered his notes so well, and Zanuck removed the cigar from his mouth, turned to Ron, and said softly, “/ didn’t produce Citizen Kane “
Gulp!
Five minutes later, after a fast zip around the Product Salon, Ron led Zanuck and his mistress back to the entrance. “Have a good evening,” said Ron in farewell, again sticking out his right hand.
Zanuck took the cigar out of his mouth with his left hand and with his right hand took hold of Ron’s open palm. “Thank you for the attention,” said the mogul. “You’re a bright young man; you’ll do well. Very well, indeed.”
Ron remained immobile as Zanuck left the pavilion.
Did you hear that?
You’ll do well … very well, indeed. Darryl F. Zanuck had said it to him, to Ron Zinelli, one N, two L’s. Could there be any higher endorsement, any better encouragement? Ron had spent years trying to convince himself he was different from everyone else.
“You’re one in ten million!” his mother used to tell him.
At last he was convinced. His mother had not exaggerated, after all. It was true. He was special.
No doubt about it, Ron would have to start thinking about a more permanent job tomorrow. Something in New York, something in the arts, something in le show business.
He stuck his hands into his pants pockets and found himself rigid with excitement.
My God, power was sexy!
18
By the time Janet Evans arrived at the World’s Fair late in the afternoon, she was in a foul mood. A headache plus the pressures of work and the heat were all working against her. Still, she had to take her account executives around from pavilion to pavilion, so she decided she’d better shape up, and fast.
There was still another ten minutes before she had to meet the men from the Vitalis account, so she ducked into the bar at the Indonesian Pavilion and ordered herself a large dry Beefeater martini and went to the ladies’ room to freshen up.
One look in the mirror assured her she was fine. Her short blond hair was neatly in place, her makeup fresh, her gingham dress crisp and perfectly fitted to her slender body. Still, she combed her hair, added another layer of lipstick, and adjusted her belt. She was ready for her gin.
Ten minutes later, relaxed and smiling, she met the executives outside the Johnson’s Wax Pavilion.
Johnson’s was exhibiting a three-screen film, To Be Alive. With all the billions of dollars spent on gadgetry and gimmicks around Flushing Meadow, everyone seemed to agree that the most impressive exhibit at the fair was this twelve-minute film. Janet knew it would be an excellent way to put the men in a good mood for the rest of the evening. Sure enough, the moment it ended, the three men suggested they celebrate with a drink.
Janet took them over to the bar at the top of the Port of Authority heliport for a couple of Gibson martinis. As they drank, they talked about the Vitalis commercial that was scheduled to shoot in three days. They still hadn’t come up with a satisfactory actor to play the baseball player. The Vitalis people wanted
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