Chapter 8 chapter eight
In March, 1937, I returned to Chicago.Otto, Nathalie and Richard expressed sympathy for my failure to become a songwriter.
"They don't hear such a great song," Natalie said.
The financial situation at home is not getting any better.Reluctantly, I went back to work in the coat locker of the Bismarck Hotel and managed to find a job as a valet at a restaurant in Rogers Park, North End, during the day.My emotions are still so volatile and out of control.I'm often ecstatic for no reason, and languid when everything goes well.
Charlie Vann, my master at Stewart Warner, and Vera, my wife, came to our house for dinner one evening.Embarrassed, we could only serve them cheap takeaway from a Chinese restaurant next door, but the Vanns pretended not to notice.
At the dinner table, Vera said, "I'm driving to Sacramento, California next week."
California, Hollywood.I felt as if another door had opened in front of me.I think back to the good old days at the RKO Jefferson, solving crimes with William Powell and Mona Roy in The Mist, and traveling in the caravan with John Wayne in The Oregon Journey California, watching Robert Montgomery terrorize Rosalyn Russell and being helpless in "Bones", jumping from tree to tree with Tarzan in "Tarzan Gets Out", with Cary Grant, Clark Gable, Zhu Di Garland at dinner.I took a deep breath and said, "I want to be your driver."
They all looked at me in surprise.
"It's very kind of you, Sidney," said Vera Vane, "but I don't want to bother..."
"I'd be happy to oblige," I said cheerfully.
I turned to Natalie and Otto and said, "I want to send Vera to California."
Everyone was silent, and the atmosphere was very awkward.
We picked up the subject again after the Vanns left. "You can't go any longer," said Otto. "You just came back from outside."
"But if I can get a job in Hollywood..."
"You can't go, we will find something for you here."
I knew what jobs I was asked to do in Chicago: coat locker, drugstore, valet parking, and I had had enough.
After a short silence, Natalie said, "Otto, if Sidney is really going to do that, we should give him a chance. Let me say, let's make a compromise," and she turned to look at me , "If you haven't found a job in three weeks, you have to go home."
"Deal." I said cheerfully.
I believed that it would be easy to find a job in Hollywood, and the more I thought about it, the more delusional I became.
I'm finally about to have a big breakthrough.
Five days later, I was packing to drive Vera and her young daughter, Carmel, to Sacramento.
Richard was sad, "Why are you leaving again? You just came back."
How do I explain to him the wonderful prospects that await me ahead?
"I understand." I said. "But it's very important. Don't worry, I'll take you with me when the time comes."
His tears were about to fall, "Can you guarantee it?"
I put my arms around him, "I promise. I'll miss you, man."
It took us five days to get to Sacramento, and then I said goodbye to Vera and Carmel and found a cheap hotel for the night.Early the next morning, I took a bus to San Francisco, then took another bus to Los Angeles. When I got to Los Angeles, I had just a suitcase with fifty dollars in my pocket.I bought a copy of the L.A. Times at the bus stop and rummaged through the classifieds to find a place to live. One advertisement immediately caught my eye. It said a boarding house, four dollars and fifty per week, including breakfast, located in the Hollywood district, only a few blocks away from the famous Sunset Strip. It was a charming old house at 1928 Calle del Carmen.The street is quiet and surrounded by lovely residential buildings. I rang the bell, and the door opened, revealing a petite, kindly-looking lady in her early forties. "Hello. What's the matter?" "Hi. My name is Sidney Sheldon. I'm looking for a place to live for a few days." "I'm Grace Sedale, please come in." I picked up my suitcase and went into the hall.The house had apparently once been a large family home before it had been converted into a boarding house.The house has a large living room, a dining room, a breakfast room, and a kitchen.There are twelve bedrooms, most of which already have residents, and four shared bathrooms. I said, "I remember the rent was four dollars and fifty cents a week, including breakfast." Grace Seidel looked at my crumpled coat and torn shirt and said, "If you insist, I can get it down to four dollars a week." I looked at her and wished I could say, "I'll pay four dollars and fifty cents." But I couldn't last long with my meager money.I swallowed my pride and said, "I insist." Her smile was so heartwarming, "Okay. I'll show you to your room." The room was small but neat and lovely furnished and I was very pleased with it. I turned to Grace and said, "That's great." "Okay, I'll give you the door key later. There is a rule that ladies are not allowed to enter the room." "No problem." I said. "Let me introduce you to the other tenants." She led me to the living room, where several tenants were, and from there I met four writers, a prop man, three actors, a director, and a singer.Later, I gradually learned that each of them has great ambitions, but they are still unemployed, and everyone is chasing wonderful dreams that may never come true. Grace has a twelve-year-old son, Billy, who is very polite.His dream was to become a firefighter, which was probably the only dream that could be fulfilled in the entire boarding house. I called Natalie and Otto and told them I had arrived safely. "Remember," Otto said, "if you don't find a job in three weeks, come back quickly, we're all waiting for you." no problem. That night, the tenants sat around the large living room and told stories of their struggles. "It's a tough business, Sheldon. Every studio has a door, and inside the door, the producers are clamoring for talent, clamoring that they desperately need actors, directors, and writers. But when you stand When it comes to the gates, they won't let you in again. Those gates are not open to outsiders." Maybe, I thought, but every day someone manages to break through that door.
I learned that the Hollywood I imagined didn't really exist.Columbia Pictures, Paramount, and RKO are in Hollywood, but MGM and Selznick International are in Covent City, Universal Studios is in Universal City, Disney Studios is in Silver Lake, 20th century Fox is in Century City, and United Films is in Universal Studios. Grace thoughtfully subscribed to Variety, an industry newspaper in the entertainment industry, and kept it in the living room. Everyone read it like a Bible, relying on it to know about job opportunities and new films being cast. up. I picked up the newspaper and looked at the date.I have twenty-one days to look for a job, and the time is very tight.I knew very well that no matter what, I had to find a way to get through those doors of the film studio. The next morning, while eating breakfast, the phone rang.Answering the phone is like an Olympic event here, everyone rushing to answer it because—none of us can socialize—the phone must be work-related. The actor who grabbed the microphone picked it up and listened for a while, then said to Grace, "It's your call." Someone sighed in disappointment.Every tenant wishes it was their job opportunity.That call was a lifeline to the future. I bought a copy of the Los Angeles Travel Guide.Since Columbia Pictures was the closest to Grace's apartment, I decided to start there.The studio is on Gower Street, just off Sunset Boulevard, without a gate. I go through the front door.An old guard was sitting behind his desk, writing something.He looked up as I entered. "What's up?" "Well," I said confidently, "I'm Sidney Shelton. I want to be a screenwriter. Who should I meet?" He looked at me for a moment, "Do you have an appointment?" "No, but..." "Then you don't want to see anyone." "There's always someone..." "I can't see you without an appointment." His tone was decisive, and then he continued to deal with his thing. Apparently, the studio didn't need any gates. For the next two weeks, I went to all the studios.Los Angeles is not the same as New York, the whole city is very scattered.The city is not walkable.Streetcars run through central Santa Monica Boulevard, and buses run from all major streets.Soon I became familiar with the bus routes and timetables. While every studio looks different, the guards are all virtuous.In fact, it slowly dawned on me that they might not be the same person after all. I want to be a screenwriter.Who should I see? Do you have a reservation? No. Then you don't want to see anyone.
Hollywood is singing and dancing, but I'm hungry.I stood outside and peeped in. All the doors were locked. My meager money dwindled, and what was worse, my time dwindled. When I wasn't at studios, I was in my room writing stories on my battered portable typewriter. One day, Grace made a disappointing announcement. "Sorry," she said, "from now on, we won't be serving breakfast." No one asked why.Most of the tenants owed rent, and she couldn't keep supporting us. When I woke up the next morning, I was faced with the situation: hungry and broke.I don't even have money to buy breakfast.I wanted to create, but I couldn't concentrate because I was so hungry.In the end, I gave up on creating.I'm in the kitchen and Grace is cleaning the stove. She saw me and turned around, "What's the matter, Sidney?" I stammered, "Grace, I—I know there's a new rule, no—no breakfast, but I wonder if I—can I have some more this morning. I'm sure in the next few days... " She looked at me and said quickly, "You'd better go back to your room." I'm completely devastated.I went back to the room and sat down at the typewriter, feeling ashamed that I had embarrassed both of us.I tried to keep writing, but to no avail.All I could think about was that I was hungry, that I had no money, that I was in a desperate situation. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door.I went over and opened the door.Grace stood in the doorway, holding a tray with a large glass of orange juice, a cup of steaming coffee, and a plate of bacon and eggs on toast. "Eat it while it's hot," she said. That was probably the best meal I've ever had, and certainly the most memorable.
One day, I went to various film companies as usual, and returned to the apartment in the afternoon with nothing. I saw a letter from Otto, which contained a bus ticket back to Chicago.This is the most depressing piece of paper I've ever seen.He also attached a note: We are waiting for you to come home next week, love your daddy. With only four days left, I have nowhere else to go.The gods have already started laughing at me. That evening, I sat around the living room with the other tenants and talked."My sister just got a job as a reviewer at MGM," said one. "Reviewer? What do you do?" I asked. “Every movie company has people like this,” he explained, “who write the synopsis for the producer, so the producer doesn’t have to read a lot of crap. If the producer likes a synopsis, he Only then will you read the whole book or script. Some film companies have full-time reviewers, and some use outsiders." My brain turned quickly.I just saw Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men", why not... Half an hour later, I speed-read the book again and typed out a summary. I borrowed a mimeograph, made a lot of copies, and sent them to half a dozen movie studios by noon the next day.I estimate it will take a day or two for all of these copies to arrive, so I should hear back by the third day. On the third day, the only email I got was from my brother Richard asking when I would pick him up.On the fourth day, I received a letter from Natalie. Next comes Thursday, and the date of my ticket is Sunday.Another dream shattered.I told Grace I was leaving early Sunday morning.She looked at me, her wise eyes full of sadness. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked. I gave her a hug. "You've done me a favor. Things didn't go my way." "Never stop dreaming," she said. But I have stopped. Early the next morning, the phone rang, and an actor ran to grab it.He picked up the receiver and said in his most professional actor's voice: "Good morning. What's the matter?...Who?..." His tone changed immediately, "David Selznick's office?" Immediately there was no sound in the room.David Selznick is the most famous producer in Hollywood. He has made dozens of films such as "A Star Is Born", "The Dinner Party", "Long Live Freedom", etc. "He's here," said the actor. We all hold our breath.Who would he be? He turned to me. "I'm looking for you, Sheldon." I must have broken the apartment phone race record at the time. "Hello." A woman's shrill voice came over the phone: "Is that Sidney Sheldon?" I realized right away that it wasn't David Selznick talking to me. "It was me." "I'm Anna, David Selznick's secretary. Mr. Selznick has a novel in hand and needs a synopsis, but none of our own reviewers has time." She used the wrong verb, I realized right away, but how can I correct her since she's a lucky star who can get my career off the ground? "Mr. Selznick needs the synopsis by six o'clock tonight. The novel is four hundred pages, and our synopsis usually takes thirty pages, with a two-page abstract and a commentary. But these must Get it done by six o'clock tonight. Can you?" To rush to Selznick Films, finish a four-hundred-page novel, get a good typewriter, and write a thirty-page synopsis, all by six o'clock, is not at all possible. No. I said, "Of course." "Okay. You can come to our office in Coventry to pick up the book." "I'll go right away." I put down the receiver.Selznick Films International.I looked at my watch, it was half past nine.It takes another hour and a half to get to Cavan City.Besides that, there are other problems: I don't have a car to get there, I can't type blindly, and it would take me a lifetime to type a thirty-page synopsis, and that lifetime doesn't include reading the four-hundred-page book. book time.Had I been to Covent City by eleven o'clock, I would have exactly seven hours to perform this miracle. However, I have already made up my mind.
Notes:
It took us five days to get to Sacramento, and then I said goodbye to Vera and Carmel and found a cheap hotel for the night.Early the next morning, I took a bus to San Francisco, then took another bus to Los Angeles. When I got to Los Angeles, I had just a suitcase with fifty dollars in my pocket.I bought a copy of the L.A. Times at the bus stop and rummaged through the classifieds to find a place to live. One advertisement immediately caught my eye. It said a boarding house, four dollars and fifty per week, including breakfast, located in the Hollywood district, only a few blocks away from the famous Sunset Strip. It was a charming old house at 1928 Calle del Carmen.The street is quiet and surrounded by lovely residential buildings. I rang the bell, and the door opened, revealing a petite, kindly-looking lady in her early forties. "Hello. What's the matter?" "Hi. My name is Sidney Sheldon. I'm looking for a place to live for a few days." "I'm Grace Sedale, please come in." I picked up my suitcase and went into the hall.The house had apparently once been a large family home before it had been converted into a boarding house.The house has a large living room, a dining room, a breakfast room, and a kitchen.There are twelve bedrooms, most of which already have residents, and four shared bathrooms. I said, "I remember the rent was four dollars and fifty cents a week, including breakfast." Grace Seidel looked at my crumpled coat and torn shirt and said, "If you insist, I can get it down to four dollars a week." I looked at her and wished I could say, "I'll pay four dollars and fifty cents." But I couldn't last long with my meager money.I swallowed my pride and said, "I insist." Her smile was so heartwarming, "Okay. I'll show you to your room." The room was small but neat and lovely furnished and I was very pleased with it. I turned to Grace and said, "That's great." "Okay, I'll give you the door key later. There is a rule that ladies are not allowed to enter the room." "No problem." I said. "Let me introduce you to the other tenants." She led me to the living room, where several tenants were, and from there I met four writers, a prop man, three actors, a director, and a singer.Later, I gradually learned that each of them has great ambitions, but they are still unemployed, and everyone is chasing wonderful dreams that may never come true. Grace has a twelve-year-old son, Billy, who is very polite.His dream was to become a firefighter, which was probably the only dream that could be fulfilled in the entire boarding house. I called Natalie and Otto and told them I had arrived safely. "Remember," Otto said, "if you don't find a job in three weeks, come back quickly, we're all waiting for you." no problem. That night, the tenants sat around the large living room and told stories of their struggles. "It's a tough business, Sheldon. Every studio has a door, and inside the door, the producers are clamoring for talent, clamoring that they desperately need actors, directors, and writers. But when you stand When it comes to the gates, they won't let you in again. Those gates are not open to outsiders." Maybe, I thought, but every day someone manages to break through that door.
I learned that the Hollywood I imagined didn't really exist.Columbia Pictures, Paramount, and RKO are in Hollywood, but MGM and Selznick International are in Covent City, Universal Studios is in Universal City, Disney Studios is in Silver Lake, 20th century Fox is in Century City, and United Films is in Universal Studios. Grace thoughtfully subscribed to Variety, an industry newspaper in the entertainment industry, and kept it in the living room. Everyone read it like a Bible, relying on it to know about job opportunities and new films being cast. up. I picked up the newspaper and looked at the date.I have twenty-one days to look for a job, and the time is very tight.I knew very well that no matter what, I had to find a way to get through those doors of the film studio. The next morning, while eating breakfast, the phone rang.Answering the phone is like an Olympic event here, everyone rushing to answer it because—none of us can socialize—the phone must be work-related. The actor who grabbed the microphone picked it up and listened for a while, then said to Grace, "It's your call." Someone sighed in disappointment.Every tenant wishes it was their job opportunity.That call was a lifeline to the future. I bought a copy of the Los Angeles Travel Guide.Since Columbia Pictures was the closest to Grace's apartment, I decided to start there.The studio is on Gower Street, just off Sunset Boulevard, without a gate. I go through the front door.An old guard was sitting behind his desk, writing something.He looked up as I entered. "What's up?" "Well," I said confidently, "I'm Sidney Shelton. I want to be a screenwriter. Who should I meet?" He looked at me for a moment, "Do you have an appointment?" "No, but..." "Then you don't want to see anyone." "There's always someone..." "I can't see you without an appointment." His tone was decisive, and then he continued to deal with his thing. Apparently, the studio didn't need any gates. For the next two weeks, I went to all the studios.Los Angeles is not the same as New York, the whole city is very scattered.The city is not walkable.Streetcars run through central Santa Monica Boulevard, and buses run from all major streets.Soon I became familiar with the bus routes and timetables. While every studio looks different, the guards are all virtuous.In fact, it slowly dawned on me that they might not be the same person after all. I want to be a screenwriter.Who should I see? Do you have a reservation? No. Then you don't want to see anyone.
Hollywood is singing and dancing, but I'm hungry.I stood outside and peeped in. All the doors were locked. My meager money dwindled, and what was worse, my time dwindled. When I wasn't at studios, I was in my room writing stories on my battered portable typewriter. One day, Grace made a disappointing announcement. "Sorry," she said, "from now on, we won't be serving breakfast." No one asked why.Most of the tenants owed rent, and she couldn't keep supporting us. When I woke up the next morning, I was faced with the situation: hungry and broke.I don't even have money to buy breakfast.I wanted to create, but I couldn't concentrate because I was so hungry.In the end, I gave up on creating.I'm in the kitchen and Grace is cleaning the stove. She saw me and turned around, "What's the matter, Sidney?" I stammered, "Grace, I—I know there's a new rule, no—no breakfast, but I wonder if I—can I have some more this morning. I'm sure in the next few days... " She looked at me and said quickly, "You'd better go back to your room." I'm completely devastated.I went back to the room and sat down at the typewriter, feeling ashamed that I had embarrassed both of us.I tried to keep writing, but to no avail.All I could think about was that I was hungry, that I had no money, that I was in a desperate situation. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door.I went over and opened the door.Grace stood in the doorway, holding a tray with a large glass of orange juice, a cup of steaming coffee, and a plate of bacon and eggs on toast. "Eat it while it's hot," she said. That was probably the best meal I've ever had, and certainly the most memorable.
One day, I went to various film companies as usual, and returned to the apartment in the afternoon with nothing. I saw a letter from Otto, which contained a bus ticket back to Chicago.This is the most depressing piece of paper I've ever seen.He also attached a note: We are waiting for you to come home next week, love your daddy. With only four days left, I have nowhere else to go.The gods have already started laughing at me. That evening, I sat around the living room with the other tenants and talked."My sister just got a job as a reviewer at MGM," said one. "Reviewer? What do you do?" I asked. “Every movie company has people like this,” he explained, “who write the synopsis for the producer, so the producer doesn’t have to read a lot of crap. If the producer likes a synopsis, he Only then will you read the whole book or script. Some film companies have full-time reviewers, and some use outsiders." My brain turned quickly.I just saw Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men", why not... Half an hour later, I speed-read the book again and typed out a summary. I borrowed a mimeograph, made a lot of copies, and sent them to half a dozen movie studios by noon the next day.I estimate it will take a day or two for all of these copies to arrive, so I should hear back by the third day. On the third day, the only email I got was from my brother Richard asking when I would pick him up.On the fourth day, I received a letter from Natalie. Next comes Thursday, and the date of my ticket is Sunday.Another dream shattered.I told Grace I was leaving early Sunday morning.She looked at me, her wise eyes full of sadness. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked. I gave her a hug. "You've done me a favor. Things didn't go my way." "Never stop dreaming," she said. But I have stopped. Early the next morning, the phone rang, and an actor ran to grab it.He picked up the receiver and said in his most professional actor's voice: "Good morning. What's the matter?...Who?..." His tone changed immediately, "David Selznick's office?" Immediately there was no sound in the room.David Selznick is the most famous producer in Hollywood. He has made dozens of films such as "A Star Is Born", "The Dinner Party", "Long Live Freedom", etc. "He's here," said the actor. We all hold our breath.Who would he be? He turned to me. "I'm looking for you, Sheldon." I must have broken the apartment phone race record at the time. "Hello." A woman's shrill voice came over the phone: "Is that Sidney Sheldon?" I realized right away that it wasn't David Selznick talking to me. "It was me." "I'm Anna, David Selznick's secretary. Mr. Selznick has a novel in hand and needs a synopsis, but none of our own reviewers has time." She used the wrong verb, I realized right away, but how can I correct her since she's a lucky star who can get my career off the ground? "Mr. Selznick needs the synopsis by six o'clock tonight. The novel is four hundred pages, and our synopsis usually takes thirty pages, with a two-page abstract and a commentary. But these must Get it done by six o'clock tonight. Can you?" To rush to Selznick Films, finish a four-hundred-page novel, get a good typewriter, and write a thirty-page synopsis, all by six o'clock, is not at all possible. No. I said, "Of course." "Okay. You can come to our office in Coventry to pick up the book." "I'll go right away." I put down the receiver.Selznick Films International.I looked at my watch, it was half past nine.It takes another hour and a half to get to Cavan City.Besides that, there are other problems: I don't have a car to get there, I can't type blindly, and it would take me a lifetime to type a thirty-page synopsis, and that lifetime doesn't include reading the four-hundred-page book. book time.Had I been to Covent City by eleven o'clock, I would have exactly seven hours to perform this miracle. However, I have already made up my mind.
Notes: