The following is an excerpt from The Dreamer's Son, a book about two different men from two different generations done in documents, letters, tickets and interviews. This is a conversation between the main character, George Ross and his movie star inspiration, Boyd Ryder.
Mr. George Hammond Ross
P.O. Box 1015
Hollywood, California
Dear George, 15 December 1931
Remember our little agreement that I would find you a job if you picked up the tab the other night at the Alexandria? Well don’t you fret about that tab--Gregory has taken care of it. You, however have got to look pretty spiffy when you show up at Universal Studios on Saturday the 26th. You’ve got an audition. You can thank me once you’ve got the part.
Let’s share a laugh and a drink again soon.
Your friend,
Boyd Ryder
P.S. No more of that “Mr. Ryder” nonsense.
P.P.S. Are you going to give me your real address any time soon or will I have to keep mailing the Post Office like a twit?
P.P.P.S. Merry Christmas.
P.O. Box 1015
Hollywood, California
From the desk of Mr. Boyd Ryder
Dear George, 15 December 1931
Remember our little agreement that I would find you a job if you picked up the tab the other night at the Alexandria? Well don’t you fret about that tab--Gregory has taken care of it. You, however have got to look pretty spiffy when you show up at Universal Studios on Saturday the 26th. You’ve got an audition. You can thank me once you’ve got the part.
Let’s share a laugh and a drink again soon.
Your friend,
Boyd Ryder
P.S. No more of that “Mr. Ryder” nonsense.
P.P.S. Are you going to give me your real address any time soon or will I have to keep mailing the Post Office like a twit?
P.P.P.S. Merry Christmas.
Mr. Boyd Ryder
9255 Sunset Blvd.,
West Hollywood, California
Dear Mr. Ryder, 20 December, 1931
You honestly expect me to be awake and alert the morning after Christmas Day? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but once I start drinking, there’s no stopping me. You said there would be alcohol at this holiday party of yours, did you not? So ha-ha. Hilarious play.
Warmly,
George
P.S. Did you mistake me for the kind of man with his own home? This is my address.
P.S.2. Christmas hasn’t been any sort of “Merry” since ‘28.
P.S.3. What am I supposed to call you then? Just Boyd? Ryder? I don’t know a lot of movie starts who would let anyone call them by just their first or last name. But in this case, because my future is in your hands, I think it’s better if you do.
Dear George, 23 December 1931
You BETTER not find yourself too hungover to audition come Saturday morn! This audition could make or break your name in the business, Kid. Stay away from the whiskey and gine or I’ll have Gregory kick you out in two seconds flat. Who do you think you are--Charlie Chaplin? (Ha-ha) You can’t get away with that stuff, Kid. Not yet, anyway. But you’ll get there--God knows you’re already ambitious enough. You just need the money.
What do you mean--you’re homeless?! I can fix that for you too, you know. Or do you already have your doubts about me? You ARE a peculiar one, George. Or should I call you Ross? I know plenty of men who are called by their last name. But in your case, I think it’s better if you don’t. (See what I did there?)
However, to answer your question--Boyd is just fine. I supposed you could, theoretically call me Ryder, but I would sound like a ball player instead of an actor. Is that what you were going for?
Consider yourself lucky I got your life put back in order.
Your friend,
Boyd
P.S. I didn’t mention it before, but I suppose I should have--actors have rough schedules, didn’t you know? If you can’t handle it, get out. But if you want to continue, well then nails for breakfast, tacks for snacks.
P.P.S. You do your “P.S”s wrong. Observe--no juvenile numbers.
P.P.P.S. Merry Christmas!
Boyd Ryder
9255 Sunset Blvd.,
West Hollywood, California
Boyd, 26 December, 1931
You should have gotten Gregory to kick me out last night like you said you would. Now I’ve gone and made a fool of myself in front of the scouts! So much for putting my life back in order, Ryder!
Where were you, anyway? I saw you for maybe a moment when I first arrived, but then those twins arrived and you were gone. Therefore, I blame you for my early failures in the motion picture industry and especially for my ungraceful return to the streets of New York City, scraping coins off the sidewalk and tobacco off the rails to make my way through the day. More like daggers for breakfast and machine pistols for snacks. (See what I did there?)
I hope you’ve got one more trick up your sleeve or I suppose my journey here is over before it’s begun.
9255 Sunset Blvd.,
West Hollywood, California
Dear Mr. Ryder, 20 December, 1931
You honestly expect me to be awake and alert the morning after Christmas Day? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but once I start drinking, there’s no stopping me. You said there would be alcohol at this holiday party of yours, did you not? So ha-ha. Hilarious play.
Warmly,
George
P.S. Did you mistake me for the kind of man with his own home? This is my address.
P.S.2. Christmas hasn’t been any sort of “Merry” since ‘28.
P.S.3. What am I supposed to call you then? Just Boyd? Ryder? I don’t know a lot of movie starts who would let anyone call them by just their first or last name. But in this case, because my future is in your hands, I think it’s better if you do.
Mr. George Hammond Ross
P.O . Box 1015
Hollywood, California
From the desk of Mr. Boyd Ryder
Dear George, 23 December 1931
You BETTER not find yourself too hungover to audition come Saturday morn! This audition could make or break your name in the business, Kid. Stay away from the whiskey and gine or I’ll have Gregory kick you out in two seconds flat. Who do you think you are--Charlie Chaplin? (Ha-ha) You can’t get away with that stuff, Kid. Not yet, anyway. But you’ll get there--God knows you’re already ambitious enough. You just need the money.
What do you mean--you’re homeless?! I can fix that for you too, you know. Or do you already have your doubts about me? You ARE a peculiar one, George. Or should I call you Ross? I know plenty of men who are called by their last name. But in your case, I think it’s better if you don’t. (See what I did there?)
However, to answer your question--Boyd is just fine. I supposed you could, theoretically call me Ryder, but I would sound like a ball player instead of an actor. Is that what you were going for?
Consider yourself lucky I got your life put back in order.
Your friend,
Boyd
P.S. I didn’t mention it before, but I suppose I should have--actors have rough schedules, didn’t you know? If you can’t handle it, get out. But if you want to continue, well then nails for breakfast, tacks for snacks.
P.P.S. You do your “P.S”s wrong. Observe--no juvenile numbers.
P.P.P.S. Merry Christmas!
Boyd Ryder
9255 Sunset Blvd.,
West Hollywood, California
Boyd, 26 December, 1931
You should have gotten Gregory to kick me out last night like you said you would. Now I’ve gone and made a fool of myself in front of the scouts! So much for putting my life back in order, Ryder!
Where were you, anyway? I saw you for maybe a moment when I first arrived, but then those twins arrived and you were gone. Therefore, I blame you for my early failures in the motion picture industry and especially for my ungraceful return to the streets of New York City, scraping coins off the sidewalk and tobacco off the rails to make my way through the day. More like daggers for breakfast and machine pistols for snacks. (See what I did there?)
I hope you’ve got one more trick up your sleeve or I suppose my journey here is over before it’s begun.
George
P.S. If we’re going to get technical with names, what do you saw we drop the “Hammond” from mine? I’d rather not be associated with my father, thank you very much.
P.P.S. Happy?
No comments:
Post a Comment