Humphrey Bogart by Darwin Porter

Author:Darwin Porter
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-936003-14-3
Publisher: Blood Moon Productions

“Well, he’s in one of those spasms this weekend,” Johnny said, “so be duly warned. I don’t know what Fox is going to do with him. When the crew revived Spence about an hour later, he immediately barged onto the set again, took out his dick, and pissed on an expensive sofa they were using in a scene. The same sofa where Bennett was supposed to sit.” He leaned back and eyed Bogie carefully. “There’s more. Then he went on a rampage. He turned over lamps, sending them crashing to the floor. There was this bookcase with glass doors. He picked up an ashtray and broke its windows. Finally he stood on an armchair and lunged for the crystal chandelier. He was swinging on the chandelier when he fell off, hitting his head against something. That caused him to bleed profusely. The big man himself, Winfield Sheehan, Fox’s director of production, had been called to the set. He saw it all.”

“Sheehan’s gonna can Spence,” Bogie predicted. “I just know it. Spence is gonna be on that train back to New York with me. We’ll start a club. Two former Fox stars pounding the pavements of Broadway looking for work.”

“I agree with you,” Johnny said. “Spence is a great actor, probably the greatest in Hollywood. But he’s been assigned a series of stupid potboilers, each with really bad scripts. And his pictures are bombing at the box office. Let’s face it? His behavior is outrageous. He’ll come right up to a woman and fondle her breast. Or he’ll reach up her dress. I mean, Spence is not a thigh man, he goes right for the honeypot at the end of the rainbow.”

“Maybe Sheehan will tolerate that kind of behavior in a big star cleaning up at the box office,” Bogie said. “Someone up there in the Garbo league. But you can’t make potboilers that lose money and pull such crap.”

“I don’t know why Fox hasn’t kicked him out on his ass by now. If I acted like Spence, I would have been canned long ago. To make matters worse, Spence will disappear for weeks at a time. He’ll lock himself up in a hotel suite and stage a big drunk.”

“I hate to see the guy suffer,” Bogie said. “He’s a real pal of mine, but he seems possessed by some hidden devil that’s got his soul.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Bogie was content to lie on the beach, drink, smoke, and listen to the sound of Johnny’s Southern drawl, which he’d come to find rather soothing. He needed this rest.

Hours later, Johnny said that Tracy had awakened and wanted to see him.

He found Tracy sitting on a narrow balcony overlooking the ocean. He looked sad and depressed.

“Good to see you again, pal,” Bogie said, giving him a warm handshake. “I hear you pulled a big one last night.”

“I’m glad you could come out,” Tracy said. “With all the assholes out here in Hollywood I’ve been dealing with, you’re the only pal that seems real.

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