Mitchell Cohen was a delightful character. It took Ted no time at all to figure out why Jim had maintained a relationship with this man for all these years. They were like two peas in a pod. Mitch was much like Jim, but with the volume turned down. Perhaps Mitch had taught Jim the value of being eccentric in a Hollywood that valued such things. The man was a gem.

He lived in a small bungalow off an alley on the north end of Venice Beach, not quite Ocean Park, but nearly so. The small rambling house was also home to several cats and a parrot that looked strong enough to defend itself from any feline intrusions. The bird spoke with an English accent, and most of its language wouldn't be presentable in polite company.

Ted had arranged their first meeting for a late afternoon which would allow him to make a polite exit if necessary with excuses for a prior engagement. He brought Dennis along for the ride, and carried a copy of the story bound in a neat red notebook. Mitch would need the time to read the work and then they could arrange future meetings. Ted had no idea how Jim planned to pay Mr. Cohen for his services, but that was not his issue.

The elderly white-haired man who opened the door gave Ted, and then Dennis, a hearty handshake as they were introduced and then motioned them into the house. It was like stepping back in time as Ted sat in the proffered chair and gazed around at the antiques which adorned the living room.

"So, Jim has finally sent you to me," Mitch said. "I wondered when that would happen."

"Wondered what, Mr. Cohen?" Ted said.

Mitch waved his hand in dismissal, very much the same gesture Jim used on occasion. "Please, call me Mitch, everyone does."

The man appeared old enough to be Ted's grandfather, and that had a certain appeal. Eighty-two, Mitch finally admitted, but he was spry enough to be half that age.

"Last summer Jim dropped by and told me he was taking on two young men at his studio. One of them he was grooming to direct, and that must be you, Dennis. The other was a writer with great promise. But I'm sorry, Ted, I had no idea you would be so young ... almost like one of my former students."

Ted smiled. "I have a friend who teaches a young man that has been writing film scripts since his elementary school days."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, age is no impediment to the achievement of great things. After all, I had Jim Curry as one of my students ... and I survived the encounter." Mitch laughed at his remark and Ted knew that the experience had been a trial for both Jim and his teacher.

"Oh Bloody Hell," the parrot screamed out from his perch in the corner. Mitch turned his head and looked at the cat sitting on the floor gazing up at the bird.

"Miss Minerva, your last encounter with Lazlo was a disaster, or have you forgotten?"

The cat turned to look at him with distain, as if any human could control the thoughts of a cat. "Scoot, you silly beast," Mitch commanded. The cat stood up and stretched before walking calmly out of the room.

"Forgive me ... the parrot was my sister's pet and the cats aren't quite used to him yet," Mitch said.

"A beautiful bird," Dennis said.

"Bugger off," Lazlo screeched.

"Perhaps a bit too colorful," Mitch replied. "He's only forty years of age, mid-life for a bird of that species. He seems to have learned all the words and phrases he desires to know, I certainly can't teach him anything. As you can see my sister taught him all the naughty little things to say that she found amusing before she sailed away."

"I'm sorry," Ted said.

"Oh she's not dead, well not quite I imagine. Doris was my step-sister, my mother's second marriage. Her father and my mother went to Valhalla together some years ago and left Doris quite a load of money.

"I had my little bungalow here but she insisted that this was inadequate and wanted me to move into the hills above Bel Air. I refused and so she took her millions, bought a yacht the size of the Queen Mary and sailed off into the sunset with a crew of attractive young men."

Mitch cleared his throat. "All she left behind was Lazlo ... but enough about me, can I get you something to drink? I imagine it's just about tea time."

A clock on the mantle chimed four times and Mitch smiled. "Well so it is."

Dennis had spent his time gazing at the artwork on the walls and the collection of small items Mitch had amassed on just about every horizontal surface in the room. He rose when Ted did and they followed Mitch out to the kitchen. The short hallway was covered in old photographs, and one of them made Dennis pause.

"That's Betty Compton," Dennis said. "Did you know her?"

"We worked together in my early years with the studio, a very fine lady and a wonderful dancer," Mitch said. "The threshold to the beyond comes closer for us all. Death holds no fear for those who know how to live." He blushed slightly. "Sorry, those were lines I wrote for one of her films."

"You wrote for films?" Ted asked.

Mitch sighed. "I did." And then he pushed through the door into the kitchen. Ted and Dennis followed, taking a seat at the table. Mitch filled a large pot with water and placed it over the burner to heat. He took a porcelain teapot down off the shelf and measured out spoonfuls of tea leaves.

"Did you say you'd have some tea?" He asked.

"Yes, please," Ted said.

That seemed to please Mitch, and he took down three cups and laid them on the counter before joining them at the table.

"I worked at MGM back in the forties and early fifties, that's where I met Betty. She always had her eye out for the little guys. All of us on the production staff just adored her. I was doing script treatments back then. It was always a matter of adjusting the words to suit the director, and more importantly, the stars.

"But then politics reared its ugly head and Senator Joe McCarthy began his hate filled campaign. In many ways it was a thinly disguised attack on the Jews while labeling many of us communists. My sister had joined the communist party in her college days, and while I despised politics I was given the same label they applied to her and driven from my job.

"So much talent was lost to the studios. It was a tragic and senseless time in our short history. I moved to St. Louis and took up teaching for about five years, but I missed California. By the time I returned McCarthy was gone. I took a job teaching high school and began to renew my film contacts. I was the ghostwriter for many film scripts, and as you see, I'm still at it."

Ted slid the notebook across the table and Mitch picked it up.

"Redemption ... what a wonderful title for a film," Mitch said. "This is your work?"

"Mark Harrison and I wrote it together."

The water boiled and Mitch prepared the teapot, placing it on the table along with the cups. He removed a tin from the cabinet and sat that beside the pot. The steam rose as the tea leaves steeped. Mitch sat back down and picked up the notebook.

"Tell me something about your story ... something you're proud of."

"It's the best thing I've ever written," Ted said. "But I couldn't have done it alone. This time Mark and I collaborated. He ... we became the characters and laid them open with our words. It's the story of four lives in conflict and how they redeem themselves ... "

Dennis and Mitch sat quietly listening to Ted speak about the story and how the characters influence one another. The excitement in Ted's voice seemed to draw Mitch in and Dennis realized the man was just as interested in the writer as the story they were hearing.

Ted finally became self conscious and stopped speaking. "I'm sorry ... I still find myself living in the story."

"Yes ... your passion is quite evident," Mitch said. "I will read it very carefully, have no fear. The best writers are the ones who invest themselves in the work. You must feel the emotions to convey them to a reader. But writing for a film audience is much different and for that you need to be trained. Is that why you have come to me?"

Ted nodded. "Yes ... I really need to learn how it's done. Mark had a better feel for it than I did, which is why you will find the story caters to visual images rather than just becoming talking points. Mark wrote for television, he knows a lot more about it than I do."

Mitch poured the tea and splashed a bit of cream in his. "Sorry, that's a bad habit I picked up from my sister. She was raised in London."

"At least you don't curse like the parrot," Dennis said.

Mitch gave him a surprised look and then burst into laughter. "Oh yes, she could have taught me that ... thank goodness she didn't.

"But to explain further ... a script writer needs to think like an orchestra conductor. Have you ever seen the conductor's score of music? No, I suppose not. It contains all the parts played by the instruments and the conductor has little time to absorb them all, but in many ways he must in order to fulfill his role.

"The script must address all the characters, a suggestion of the images a director needs to visualize the writer's intent, and often the motivation for the scene. A good director will embrace the script and use his own thoughts to image the scenes. But to maintain the continuity everyone must depend upon the writer for direction. It's one of the greatest skills needed to make a good film."

Mitch turned to Dennis. "In your role as a director the most important thing you will ever do is that first read through of the script. This is where your image is formed and your mind is tuned into the story you are asked to orchestrate."

He turned back to Ted. "But you already know that the key to production is collaboration, you proved that by writing this with Mark. Your job is to bring all the minds in the room to bear on the task. The director uses your imaging and your words to paint the picture an audience sees. It requires a good deal of positive chemistry."

Mitch opened the tin and proffered it to Ted. "Cookie?"

The meeting lasted for two hours, and then Dennis and Ted took their leave. Mitch was left with the story to read and he promised to call Ted the minute he was finished. Then they could begin the transition. Dennis drove them home since Ted seemed in a daze of thought.

"He's very impressive," Dennis said, hoping to prod Ted into a response.

"He's just what I need," Ted said. "Do you believe in the hand of fate?"

"You mean good fortune?"

"I feel like Betty has reached out from beyond the grave and brought me to Mitch."

"Ted, Jim Curry arranged this, not Betty."

"But once again we have crossed paths with her," Ted said.

"What are you taking about?"

"The principal at Cabot, your friend, Dr. Lynch. He knew Betty much like Mitch did. And Jim, we didn't know him very well until Betty made sure he became focused on us. I see her hand in everything we've begun to accomplish."

"I suppose I can believe in some of that," Dennis said. "The bequest we received from her will certainly set us up to succeed."

Dennis went back into the editing room with Barry and Mickey for the rest of the week. Ted found himself at odds once again with little to do until Steve and Mark came into the studio for some pre-production workups. And then four days later Mitch called.

Ted went alone this time, toting his laptop and a small recorder. If Mitch was going to try and re-write the story by hand it would take considerable time. Ted would try and make the changes to the document in his laptop as they went along without disturbing the flow.

Mitch had invited him over for breakfast and so Ted stopped at the Boys Market down by Marina Del Rey and bought a quart of strawberries, and then as an afterthought he bought what the man behind the bakery counter said were real English scones.

Ted was loaded down with bags as he rang the bell and waited for the answer. Mitch was delighted with the fruit and cooed over the scones.

"I haven't had these for eons of time. When I was a boy we used to take tea at Claridges, that grand hotel in Mayfair across from Hyde Park in London. My mother and aunt put great store in being seen there at least once a week. My sister caught that debutante fever quite young and it did her no damn good to hold her nose in the air. But I was just a little man, still in short pants ... but I digress once again."

Ted smiled. "That's just fine with me. I enjoy hearing your stories."

Mitch laughed. "These were just events in my life ... you have yet to read any of my stories."

Mitch pulled a colander from the cabinet beside the stove and dumped the strawberries into it to be cleaned. Ted noticed a strange contraption sitting on the counter and tried to puzzle out its function.

"It's a waffle iron, belonged to my mother," Mitch said. "Once you break them in they last forever. Now you may have strawberries on your waffles and I will whip us up some cream."

"You mentioned ghostwriting ... did you ever have any scripts produced under your own name?" Ted asked.

"Ah ... no, I did not," Mitch said. "The commie scare pushed me out before I had the chance to sell anything. But after we work together on your story perhaps you'll recognize my fingerprints on some of the films you've seen."

Mitch stopped there and smiled. He could see the question in Ted's eyes, but he was waiting for it to be spoken aloud.

"Did you like the story?" Ted asked.

Mitch nodded. "Yes ... I liked it very much. I've read it twice and made some notes to remind myself of things that should be in your script. I can see that two minds built this work, but that did nothing to detract from the results."

Mitch began to clean the strawberries and paused to continue his thoughts. "This could have been a very melodramatic story, but it isn't. The elements were presented in a proper fashion, and I enjoyed the characterization very much."

He seemed to sense Ted's impatience and so he dropped the paring knife and turned off the faucet. "Sit," Mitch said. "I had best tell you everything to calm your nerves."

Ted sat at the table and Mitch poured them both a coffee before he sat down. He seemed pleased to see that Ted drank his black.

"So ... for first time writers what you young men have conjured up is nothing short of spectacular. A first class drama that you and I will, in time, use to create a major film script.

"I know Jim's and Hank's work in various roles over the years. I also saw Mark Harrison in the cowboy film with Hank, but that was comedy and doesn't allow me to forecast his ability as a dramatic actor. The young man Steven Biddle is unfamiliar to me.

"I speak of these actors because your story's characters are built with certain traits that will have to be deemed credible by an audience. I see no major flaws in the storyline. You wrote what you did for a reason and I may ask what they are to help clarify something in the script."

Mitch nodded. "I think you should know, the story would make a fine book."

Although the waffles were very good with strawberries and cream, Ted might have preferred maple syrup. They each gave something to the conversation about their personal lives and then washed up the breakfast dishes. Spending time with Mitch seemed effortless, at least until they settled into the dining room where Ted figured they would do most of the writing.

"So let's begin at the beginning, your opening scene," Mitch said. "As you say, this is all a very visual introduction to Danny's character, and that of his father. I assume that Steve sings well or Jim would never have chosen him."

"He's very good ... good enough to sell the pop star image," Ted replied.

"Excellent. Your first spoken lines occur in the dressing room, setting up the conflict between father and son. But what follows sketches out Danny's life before the singing career and this is where we'll have to give the story a good deal of thought. Do you feel it must be done in a flashback or can we adjust that?"

"Mark and I agreed it would be difficult to step backwards in time, but the images are so compelling," Ted said.

"Yes they are ... so let's think about it like this and build some words to express the transition to Danny's childhood ... "

By the time Ted felt hungry again he was convinced that Mitch was a pure genius. It was only noon but they had six pages of the script written. Mitch had led him through the initial scenes, writing his copy longhand on a yellow pad while Ted formatted his on the laptop.

ProScript was a nice little program that Curry used, and all Ted had to do was fill in the lines. Once he had typed in the list of characters the software prompted him with a selection of names to use and asked him for scene and location information. Mitch thought it was useful, but continued to write by hand.

They ate bacon, tomato and avocado sandwiches on toasted bread at lunch before resuming the work. Mitch had suggested they work every other day until it was done which would allow some time for the thoughts to sink in. By tea time they had ten pages written, and Mitch called a halt.

"We're making fine progress ... are you sure you've never done this before?" Mitch asked.

Ted smiled. "I've never even tried."

Mitch poured the tea and chuckled. "This has been a real pleasure, but I think enough for now. I need time to absorb what we've done and think ahead. How is Dennis doing?"

"They're all stuck in editing, but it seems to be going well," Ted said.

Mitch smiled. "He's a handsome young man."

"He's my partner for life."

Mitch nodded. "You are both very lucky. I never found myself on the receiving end of another man's affections, and then when I started teaching ... it would have scared me. But there were a few times when I allowed myself to let go with both men and women."

"Jim is going to throw a party when the Come Next Tuesday film is finished," Ted said. "Do you think I could talk you into attending?"

"I don't really go anywhere except for my walk up to the market," Mitch said.

"I'll drive you there," Ted said. "Besides, it will be a chance for you to meet Mark and Steve."

"Oh ... well, in that case, how could I resist? Just let me know when I have to be ready."

It took them three weeks to devise a script from the story, and then they decided to review it one more time. Jim announced that the film was in final form and scheduled a party for the cast and crew at his home to celebrate. It would be a grand affair, and not just because he could now push the film off to the distributors. Ted had not told a soul, but the script for Redemption was finished as well.

He had printed off five un-official copies because legally the script belonged to Jim. Mitch would retain a copy, as would Ted, but he had to give one to Mark just to reward all that hard work they had done together.

"You didn't? This is it ... the final?" Mark asked.

"I sure hope so, I'm exhausted," Ted replied.

They were once again sitting on the patio at the Wilshire Hotel. It had taken Ted an hour that morning to track Mark down only to be invited to lunch with 'the boys.' Mark had his usual table under the awning with Brian, Steve and Tim in attendance. They had left two open places for Ted and Dennis, and the waiter began to hover the moment they arrived.

"Perhaps we should order," Mark said. "We've been here goofing off for an hour already."

The lunch order taken, Ted slid a hand down into his backpack and pulled out a copy of the script. He stood up and leaned across the table, handing it to Mark.

"I don't have to tell you not to show that to anyone, but I knew you would want to see what we've done with our story," Ted said.

"Oh My God, you finished it?" Steve said.

"Ninety-nine percent sure, but Jim hasn't even seen it yet," Ted replied.

Mark looked a little stunned, and then held Ted's gaze with a smile. "Good going ... looks like we're in business. Thank you."

"I've invited Mitch to the wrap-up party, he'd like to meet you ... the both of you," Ted said. "He seems to think the script might need to get tweaked a bit to fit your acting style. He says the best scripts never fit the characters exactly until the actors have read through the lines."

"Do I get one?" Steve asked.

"You will, just let me get Jim's approval. He does own it and Mitch says he needs to approve the distribution."

"Did you have to change a lot?" Mark asked.

"No changes ... we just improved the delivery," Ted said.

Mark turned to Brian. "We better call Todd about dinner tonight. I'm not going anywhere until I have read this."

Brian nodded. "I figured as much."

The wrap-up party was held on a Saturday at Jim's house, and Nina once again proved her worth as an able assistant. From the crew of parking valets, to the waiters, cooks, and bartenders, there was little for Jim to do except greet his guests and enjoy himself.

Ted and Dennis had picked Mitch up at three knowing there would be hours of socializing before dinner was served. What they would all be waiting to see was the final cut of the film which would be shown at seven-thirty.

Ted encountered the line of cars parked along the street even before he reached the gates, and as expected there was a security man standing there with a clipboard.

"Name, please," The guard said.

"Cavanaugh and King," Ted said.

A valet stood by to take the car and park it but the guard smiled. "They have a reserved space for you inside. Please drive on up."

"Oh wow," Dennis said as they hit the top of the driveway. There were already a dozen cars on the gravel in front of the house, including Tim's Ferrari. Ted swung in beside it and a valet was there to open his door.

"Thank you," Ted said.

The young man nodded and pointed to the front door where Nina stood greeting the guests. She gave Dennis a hug and shook hands with Ted and Mitch.

"Right on through to the sun room," Nina said. "You know where it is."

The large open room was set up with chairs facing a blank movie screen and all the couches, chairs and tables had been moved out onto the patio under the shade of the trees. The effect of an outdoor living room was impressive, especially since it was already filled with people.

Jim made his way through the crowd and immediately honed in on Mitch. They hugged with a good deal of affection as only old friends can do, and Jim led them to a group of empty chairs beside the pool. A waiter took their drink order after they sat down, and for once Mitch ordered a glass of wine.

One by one, Mark, Steve and Hank joined the circle and Ted knew what was coming, or at least hoped he did.

"We've all read the script," Jim said. "Speaking for myself I have to say that what you two gentlemen have written is just so outstanding that we're going into production at the end of May. That means you need to take some vacation time and you better make arrangements to do it soon. I'm going someplace, I think we all should."

He looked around the circle of faces and smiled. "This is a first for Curry Studios since we've never done an original work like this before. It's going to bring a media focus down on each of us and that's going to be a lot of pressure. But then the rewards are going to be greater, and with that much buzz you know this will be an Oscar contender next year.

"I also want to tell you that I've hired an agent for Ted ... a publishing agent. If Redemption

Dennis took the notebook and smiled, dropping it on the floor. "I have my priorities straight, the story can wait." And he pulled Ted down on the bed.


On to Chapter Seventeen

Back to Chapter Fifteen

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Exit Hollywood is © 2010 by Chris James.
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