Chapter Six. Ed and Johnny Hit the Skids

"My Sid always wanted a Pierce-Arrow," Edna said. "Not like these rattle-traps they drive nowadays."





The big touring car was a good thirty years old but waxed to a high gloss and impeccably maintained.





"My cousin Sophie plays mah jongg with a lady whose husband owns an orchard in Tarzana and they’re looking for people to pick peaches," Edna said.





They'd even bought a little icebox, the first one either of them had ever owned.





They fumed until they came to the Hollo-Palm Groceteria (so named because it commanded the intersection of Holloway Drive and Palm Avenue).





But as soon as they caught sight of the glistening stacks of canned goods their spirits lifted. “Remember to get lots of those sardines in the tomato sauce,” Ed said. “Hope they’re on sale!"





They never found out, because just then Louie, the proprietor, loomed in their way.





They stopped at the Palmonica Mini-Super—an upstart at Palm and Santa Monica which they knew was Louie’s most hated rival—and shot their whole wad. When they found they had three pennies left they tossed them with great flourish into the jar on the counter marked “China Famine Relief.”





No writer on the Republic lot would reveal on the lot would reveal Hazard's home address. So angry did Ed and Johnny become that they finally charged the administration building.





So angry did they become that when Vera Hruba Ralston herself said, “Hallo, boys! You haff great new ideas?” Ed responded, “Screw off.”





Moments later they were being muscled through the gate by a quartet of extras from the new Roy Rogers movie.





"Say," Johnny said as they continued south over Cahuenga Pass in the midday heat. "You don't suppose they fired that son of a bitch N.J. for doing us dirt, do you?"





"I rather tend to doubt it," Ed said, just as the Nash boiled over.





The boys had quite a history with that Nash.






At Goldwyn they got past the front gate and all the way to a secretary. She, unfortunately, told them that the boss had left specific instructions that “if those provocateurs ever show their faces here you should invite them out.”


Looking up and down the streets they saw a low-rent acting school, two photo studios, a junkyard, and a chop suey joint, but no filling station.





They eventually came to a Phillips station, filled the can with water, and began the long trudge back.





Ed soon became dizzy and had to sit for a while in the shade of a tree. He failed to notice that the tree was a jacaranda in voluptuous full bloom.





And all that so Peter Rathvon’s secretary could, with a very appropriate choice of phrase, tell them to take a hike.





At Paramount they got as far as Frank Freeman's yes-man, but he said no.





Harry Cohn himself came out of his office and stood before them. He regarded them with a strange look on his face for a moment, then burst into guffaws. “Writers who think I’m gonna front ‘em an advance!” he said. “This I just had to see!”




Immediately afterwards they went to bed and dreamed of Spam.





They’d only ever managed to pitch a single idea to L.B., the one about the heart-warming friendship between the crippled Bowery bum and the male hooker. Mayer had been less than thrilled with the basic idea.




But when Ed had proposed that Fred Astaire play the cripple and Gene Kelly the hooker, Mayer had gone apoplectic.




“All right, have it your way,” Hugh said with an amiable grin.




“I’m off to meet my wife and some friends for a steak dinner at Chasen’s."




“Remember the sparks flying between Dmytryk and that juicy little blonde who played second lead?” Ed chuckled, poking Johnny in the chest.





They loaded the icebox into the car and drove it to Meshulam’s. He said no one buys iceboxes from a pawnbroker.





“Remember that science fiction story we did for Mort Weisinger at Thrilling Wonder Stories?" Johnny said.
Ed shook his head. “Are you forgetting what happened with Mort?”





Then Johnny caught himself with a gasp and looked at Ed, hoping his pal hadn’t noticed where he was looking. But Ed’s gaze was fixed on the same spot.