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United Kingdom ...........................Spain

Canada ........................................ Italy

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Brazil .......................................... India



Monday, March 10, 2014

LINKS TO THE MISADVENTURES


*****
*****

MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES ran weekly for 77 episodes. By the time it ended it had drawn well over 200,000 visitors. Many readers urged me to turn the blog into a book, which I did. Scroll down to the end for links to the audiobook, trade paperback, or to download the e-book version. The audiobook, with narrator Colin Hussey, will debut soon. Meanwhile, if you'd like to dip into the episodes, here is a complete list - with links - from The Fade In to the Fade Out:

1. FADE IN BUNCH AND COLE

2. THE BLONDE ALL OVER LADY & THE LION

3. JACK KLUGMAN AND THE KO KIDS

4. JACK KLUGMAN AND THE KO KIDS - PART TWO

5. WHAT'S THE STORY BOYS?

6. HOW TO STEAL A MILLION DOLLARS

7. THE SHARK THAT ATE BUNCH & COLE

8. STEN: THE FAST TURNAROUND CAPER

9. BUCK ROGERS IS A FATTY! ARDALA DEFINITELY ISN'T!

10. THE GALACTICA 1980 FIASCO

11. SUMMONED TO THE BLACK TOWER

12. THE CURSE OF THE BLACK TOWER

13. THE UNSINKABLE DOLLY BROWN

14: FADE IN: LORNE GREENE

15. MEATBALLS IN SPACE: THE LARSON-FUTTERMAN WARS

16. WE BURN THE SCHOOLSHIP

17. WE BURN THE SCHOOLSHIP: PART DEUX

18. LORNE GREENE RIDES TO THE RESCUE

19. DIE SCHOOLSHIP! DIE, DIE! OR, HOW VINCE EDWARDS SCREWED THE POOCH

20. THE BOXMAN COMETH

21. TOM SELLECK MEETS THE UGLIEST DOG IN HAWAII

22. IT AIN'T EASY BEIN' GREEN - JUST ASK THE INCREDIBLE HULK

23. SHOWDOWN AT THE INCREDIBLE HULK

24. LOU FERRIGNO AND THE HARLEY HULKOUT

25. THE HULK AT SEA - MANNY DODGES THE BULLET - AGAIN!

26. SKYDIVING HULK: OR, WHAT THE HELL TO DO IF LOU WON'T JUMP

27. BRING ME THE HEAD OF THE HULK

28. IRWIN ALLEN'S RECIPE FOR DISASTER

29. CODE DEAD: THE BEACH BALL COMETH

30. OF BEACH BALL BLUES AND FLYING FICKLE FINGERS OF FATE

31. THE TOWERING TOUPEE THROWS UP

32. THE HAWKS TAKE CARE OF THEIR OWN

33. FOLLOW THE BOUNCING BEACH BALL

34. BOUNCING BEACH BALL PART # 2

35. LORNE GREENE NEVER SHOUTS - GOT THAT?

36. JULIE ADAMS: THE LADY EVEN MONSTERS FELL FOR

37. ANDY WARHOL'S FIRE EXTINGUISHER

38. WHY CLINT EASTWOOD OWES US BIG TIME

39. TOUPEES ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE

40. STEN VS. THE SANTA ANA WINDS

41. ALEX KILGOUR IN HOLLYWOOD

42. WE SAVE FLIPPER FROM A TUNA CAN

43. IT COSTS MONEY FOR GOOD GARBAGE

44. THE MOVIE ROCK MOGUL OF MGM

45. TOWTRUCK BOOGIE AND THE EATANTER

46. LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE 'S' WORD

47. HOW WE STOPPED WORRYING AND LEARNED TO LOVE THE MOB

48. THE FBI ONLY RINGS ONCE

49. CHRIS AND DIANA ROSS STEP OUT

50. STAN LEE AND THE MULHOLLAND ROAD RACING ASSOCIATION. 

51. THE NEIGHBORS ARE SCARING OUR WEREWOLF

52. THE SILVER BULLET SANCTION

53. TWO AMERICAN WEREWOLVES IN BRIGHTON

54. WEREWOLF PARADISE

55. CHUCK CONNORS KISSES THE RING

56. SCREWED BY THE MOUSE, OR MICHAEL EISNER AND THE SEVEN PI$$ING DWARFS

57. JOE PISCOPO AND THE BEACH POLICE

58. BAD BOY BOBBY BLAKE

59. BAD BOY BOBBY BLAKE: PART DEUX

60. CHRIS BUNCH VS STEVEN SEAGAL

61. DUMB IT DOWN, BOYS

62. WE MEET BILL FRIEDKIN AND THE DEA

63. DANCING WITH A NAKED LADY WHILE WATCHED BY GUYS WITH GUNS

64. TRACKING CARLOS LEHDER TO HIS LAIR

65. THE REAL STARS OF HOLLYWOOD

66. HOW MANY HOLLYWOOD AGENTS DOES IT TAKE TO SCREW A WRITER?

67. HOW ROCK HUDSON (SORT OF) HELPED US GET AN AGENT

68. HOLLYWOOD SCREW-UP: WE LAND A PERFECTLY GOOD AGENT THEN BLOW THE DEAL

69. THE SHE-DEVIL WHO SCARED HELL OUT OF THE HIGHLANDER

70. HIGHLANDER TWO: IT'S JUST A FREE DAY IN LA

71. HIGHLANDER THREE: OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!

72. CHUCK NORRIS NEVER BLINKS. NEVER!

73. THE BIG RIPOFF - HOLLYWOOD STYLE

74. HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD

75. A HOLLYWOOD CHRISTMAS

76.  STEN IN HOLLYWOOD: THE PENULTIMATE MISADVENTURE

77. EPILOGUE: THE LAST MISADVENTURE


 *****



Here's where you can buy it worldwide in both paperback and Kindle editions:

U.S. .............................................France
United Kingdom ...........................Spain
Canada ........................................ Italy
Germany ..................................... Japan
Brazil .......................................... India

LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!



Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: 


Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:
  • "Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas
  • "Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. 
  • "... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com
*****
THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:
A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan


After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.



BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. 
*****

TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!

Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969
In the depths of the Sixties and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with  a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is  "The Blue Meanie,"  a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. 
***** 
STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!


Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four  episodes. Here are the links: 

REMEMBER - IT'S FREE!

Sunday, March 9, 2014

How To Steal A Million Dollars


"What's not to get?" This from Al Godfrey, our new mentor and exec-producer of Quincy M.E., starring Jack Klugman.

Chris said, "Okay, stop me if I get it wrong anywhere along the line. Klugman orders Peter Thompson - the guy you replaced - to buy a script from us. Right?"

Godfrey nodded. "You boys are two lucky sons of bitches."

"Yeah, yeah," Chris said. "But, what happens next is that old Peter informs us that Klugman's been wanting to do something about Pedophiles and how they bury themselves in the community to stalk our kids."

Godfrey said, "I'm with you so far. Still don't see anything to be confused about."

Chris said, "Well, hang fucking tight because it gets a little scary from here on in… We tell Peter, no problem. When do you want the story? And how long should it be?"

I break in, getting steamed just listening to Chris' recital. "And Peter tells us - 'Not to worry, boys. I have the story. You just do the research and when you're ready call me."

"Never mind that," Chris said. "He didn't have a fucking story. He lied to us. We had to come up with one on the fly. Then we go home, write the story. Get your notes and Peter's notes. Then write the script. Script's approved. Checks mailed to agent. Agent clips them for ten percent and sends them on."

Godfrey nodded. "That's how it works."

Christ snorted. "Well, riddle me this, Mr. Godfrey, sir. How come if we did all the damned work - with no help from Peter - that when the check showed up from fucking Universal Studios that we got screwed for two thousand dollars? And it turns out that the two grand went into the pockets of - guess who - Peter Thompson."

Godfrey shrugged. "Easy," he said. "That was Peter 's share. He had the story, remember?"

Chris was exasperated. So was I, but I kept my mouth shut. This was a learning opportunity if ever saw one. A lesson, as it happens, that cost us two thousand dollars so I didn't want to miss a word.

My partner persisted. He said, "It's not Peter 's story. He didn't write - or think up a word of it."

Godfrey said, "Of course, it's his story." He jabbed a finger at the stationary on his desk, headed MCA-Universal - Business Affairs. "Says right here it's his story. Credit he generously shared with you and Allan. And, pal, if fucking Business Affairs says so, it's So. Just ask them."

Chris made a noise of heart-felt disgust. "Peter 's the freaking head of production for the largest studio in the whole freaking world. What's he need two grand of our measly script money for?"

Godfrey said, "I'd like to say it isn't the money. But in This Town money is always a major part of the story. Guys like me and Peter live way over our heads. We have to drive the nicest cars. Live in the nicest houses. Send our kids to the best private schools. Wine and dine and fuck the sexiest and most expensive starlets… You know. Keep up appearances."

"Yeah, but two grand?" Chris said in a dismissive tone. "What's two grand to him?"

Despite his protest, however, my partner's outrage was starting to wane. Beating your head against the wall called Studio Business Affairs can be weary work.

I said, "You mentioned that money wasn't Peter 's only motive. "What other reasons are there?"

Godfrey leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. He said, "In a word - Credit. And the bottom line is that Peter was more after the Above The Line Story Credit than the money." (Above The Line on the End Reel are the names of the producers, directors, writers, actors and other "creative" personnel. The Below The Line credits are everybody else, from makeup to the guys who provide the portable Johns on location.)

We gave our new mentor blank stares.

Chris said, "Credit? He's got fucking credit." He jabbed a finger at the Business Affairs document. "Says right there he was fucking Executive Producer."

Godfrey sighed - such innocents. "In this business," he said, "there is nothing lower than a writer. But if a non-writer wants to go places in the world of the Suits he'd better have some writing credits to go along with his masters degree in pencil pushing and pissing on the peons."

"Peter claims he has a degree from the London School of Economics," I said.

Godfrey chuckled. "Yeah, and if you fucking believe that you'll probably believe that he was classmates with Mick Jagger."

"He's too old," Chris said.

Godfrey raised a cautionary finger. "Never tell an old fart he's too old," he said. "It will be the end of your career."

"Gotcha, boss," I said. Amused, because Godfrey himself had claimed he was about our age, when he was clearly ten years or more older.

I steered back to the point. "Are you saying that Peter wants his bosses to think that he's actually a writer, who got interested in production"

"Fuck no," Godfrey said. "But if he can flash a few credits to The Guys With The Big Telephones, it'll show that he has a creative streak. But not so much of one that he's gonna go sideways on them. Develop a case of integrity. Or fucking honesty."

"Honesty?" I said. "Heaven forefend."

Godfrey cocked an eye at me. He said, "If you ever use the word 'forefend' in a script you write for me you can look for it the next day at the County Dump."

Just then we were joined by the new Quincy story editors - Chris Trumbo and Jeff Freilich. Drinks were made, smokes fired up and we all settled back to get to know one another.

It turned out that Chris Trumbo was the son of the legendary blacklisted screeenwriter Dalton Trumbo (Spartacus, Exodus to name just two -  while Freilich - a medical school dropout - hailed from the shores of Roger Corman, king of the down and dirty drive-in movie makers.

"It was one hell of an education,' Freilich said - speaking not of the medical school part, but of working for Roger Corman. "You only had a few thousand bucks to make whatever flick Roger assigned you. Which meant you really had to use your imagination and cheat like hell to shoot the movie. The real beauty was that if you stuck to the few basics Roger required - 'I want Women In Chains Meets Dracula - you could say or do pretty much anything you wanted."

"Sounds like old Black Mask Magazine," my partner opined. "Stick to the basic formula and you had a free hand. That's where the best writers in the detective story business, like Raymond Chandler, got their start."

While they were all talking, I was thinking about the cheapo movies that Corman and his ilk made, some of which were (accidentally) good. Most turned a large profit and even the worst never lost a dime on the drive-in, neighborhood movie circuit. (Today, it's DVD rentals and Streaming Video.)

Meanwhile, the studios regularly lost their silk shirts on Big Bucks Productions, and had to count on one or two bonanza films every year or so to pay the bills. These days they call them 'Tent Pole' pictures and they consist of endless sequels of mindless movies aimed at teenage boys, who consume so much popcorn and drink so much Coke that they keep the zillion dollar entertainment business afloat.

I asked Jeff, "What if Corman gave you a million dollars. What could you do with that?"

Freilich laughed. "Shit, with a million dollars I could have re-made Ben Hur, complete with the chariot race. Of course, we'd have to shoot it in Italy, or southern Spain, but hell, their prop masters probably have dozens of old movie chariots on hand. And there's plenty of period footage we could buy for the price of a pizza."

At the time, studio movies averaged ten million bucks or so, which shows you how long ago this was. Currently, film budgets are hammering on the gates of $500 million. Stars like Johnny Depp ring up paydays of $50 million or more. (The most recent Pirates Of The Caribbean.)

I turned to Godfrey, "So tell me Al, if you can make a million dollar movie - one that's guaranteed to turn a profit - why don't the studios make ten, one million dollar movies that will all make a bundle… instead of one ten million dollar movie that's probably going to lose money?"

Godfrey gave me a pitying look - oh, you poor putz. Then he proclaimed, "Allan, the reason the studios make Ten Million Dollar Movies, instead of One Million Dollar Movies, is that you can't fucking steal a million dollars from a million dollar movie."

That was our first real money lesson in Hollywood and it pretty much explained everything you needed to know about the business - including how Peter Thompson ended up with some of our money in his pockets.

"It's like points on the project," Godfrey said. "You are never going to see any, because the points are based on gross profits and no studio in Hollywood will ever make a movie that shows an actual gross profit that points can be levied against."

Godfrey told us that recently he'd been offered two points on a multi-million dollar project and he'd said, "I'll swap those two points for a flat ten thousand dollars cash."

The deal maker looked at him, hurt in his eyes. "Come on, Godfrey," he said. "Play fair."

As the conversation moved on, Chris sat there silently for a time. Which was quite unlike him.

Finally, he piped up: "You know, if Cole and I had known that Hollywood was like the plumber's, or the electrician's union, and that all you had to do was grease somebody's palm to break in - well, fuck, man! We'd have paid somebody two thousand dollars years ago."

Quincy Postscript: As time went by we met every chance we could with Godfrey - so much that Scotty just waved us through the gate and didn't bother to ask what we were up to. And we spent many an evening pitching stories and shooting the breeze with Al, and Trumbo and Freilich.

We even sold another script to Al - The Money Plague - which was about anthrax-infected money getting into the system through a neighborhood bank. (A greedy story editor managed to grab some of the credit on that one as well.)

Al lasted one season - a very successful season - and another producer came on board. Several others followed. Klugman chewed through producers like he chewed through dialogue. (Quincy scripts had to be twenty pages longer than most because Klugman talked so fast.)

Godfrey was philosophic about what he knew would be his eventual demise.

"If I do my job right," he said, "I can keep the numbers up and the show a hit. But eventually, I'm going to make Jack mad. And then I'm gone. No worries, though. I had that eventuality covered in my contract."

Meanwhile, over the following seasons we sold several more scripts, and were such old pros at Quincy that the new producers used to call us - a couple of freelancers - to ask vital questions, such as: What's Quincy's first name? Answer: He didn't have a first name, just the initial "R."

Another: What was Sam's (Quincy 's sidekick, played by the multi-talented Robert Ito ) last name? Answer: Fujiyama. And yes, he was a doctor too, although few writers, except us, ever referred to him with that honorific.

Quincy M.E., ran for eight hit seasons, ending in 1982 - not because the ratings were down. The show was always in the top ten or close to it. Jack Klugman was worn out with the incredible effort he put into the program and was having continuing problems with his voice. He called it a day, bowing out at the top of his game. Last I heard he was still alive and giving them hell at age 89.

An interesting side note on Godfrey 's comment about the firewall he'd built into his contract:

Glen Larson was the creator of Quincy - a guy I'll be telling you a lot more about later on in greater and more horrific detail. Old Glen had a PhD in "borrowing" other people's ideas and making them into (usually low brow) hits.

He probably would have ruined Quincy, one of the most honored shows in TV history, with an impact that reached all the way to Congress. But he didn’t stick around much past the first season.

 Old hands on the show told us that Klugman and Larson were butting heads before the cameras started to roll.

Klugman demanded quality. He wanted realistic stories based on fact. Stories that meant something and that had decent dialogue for the actors to speak.

Surely, Glen may have wondered - Is Jack fucking nuts?

As you may have gathered, Larson was an unlikely source for any of the things Klugman demanded. Larson’s motto was: Whatever works, works. The rest is bullshit.

Despite these problems, Quincy was a huge a hit. It started out as one of the shows in the NBC "Mystery Wheel." The other members of the wheel were "McCloud," "MacMillian and Wife, " "Banacek," and "Columbo." All good programs. Each getting two hours per episode - just like a movie, with all the production values that a movie has.

When the Network - in its stupidity- broke up the wheel, Quincy became a regularly scheduled one hour program and Klugman - we were told - said either Larson was off the show, or he was.

Larson lost.

Well - not really.

Actually, Glen Larson probably never lost a dime of his own money in his professional career. We were told that his payoff was in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars an episode to stay away from the show. That's fifty thousand dollars in 1979 money, which, according to my inflation calculator, would be $145,846.11 today.

Which is one hell of a restraining order.

I’d take that deal, wouldn’t you?

Anyway, at this point in the game, Chris and I were all but made.

But two things had to occur before our success was assured.

One concerned Sten - the first novel in a series that what would turn out to be an international science fiction hit.

The second had to do with a big fucking shark.

NEXT: THE SHARK THAT ATE BUNCH AND COLE
 *****



Here's where you can buy it worldwide in both paperback and Kindle editions:

U.S. .............................................France
United Kingdom ...........................Spain
Canada ........................................ Italy
Germany ..................................... Japan
Brazil .......................................... India

LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!



Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: 


Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:
  • "Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas
  • "Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. 
  • "... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com
*****
THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:
A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan


After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.



BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. 
*****

TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!

Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969
In the depths of the Sixties and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with  a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is  "The Blue Meanie,"  a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. 
***** 
STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!


Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four  episodes. Here are the links: 

REMEMBER - IT'S FREE!

What's The Story Boys?


*****
The Writer's Creed
A conman was caught impersonating a Hollywood producer. One of his victims - a rising young actress - told the judge: "I should've suspected he wasn't a producer. He didn't hit on me more than once."
* * *
HAL: Look Dave. I can see you're really upset by this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over. (From 2001: A Space Odyssey)
* * *
"It's not the most intellectual job in the world, but I do have to know the letters."
(Vanna White - Wheel Of Fortune.)
* * *

Chris was hammering furiously on the keyboard. He paused to glance at his notes, then snorted his complete disgust. He said, "Man, this is some serious sick shit."

He shuddered. Something I had never seen him do before. "Makes my skin crawl just thinking about these assholes. And here we have to write a whole fucking script about the suckers."

I settled back from my own work and sighed my agreement. "I keep saying to myself, this is our big break. Don't fuck it up."

Chris said, "If this wasn't for Jack Klugman I'd pack it in. At least we know he'll make good use of this shit. Get some Congressional hearings going, and such."

Then he hunched his shoulders, his face took on a fierce light, and he started blazing away at the keyboard again.

When I remind you that the project we were engaged in had to do with Pedophiles - the scum of the Earth - you'll understand our feelings. Especially since the whole business with Jack Klugman started out with a nice, gentle story about murdering boxers.

As Chris put it: "On a scale of one to ten: Murdering boxers Versus Pedophiles, the baby rapers rate way down on the shit scale."

Not only that, but we were both troubled by Peter 's super strong insistence that he already had a story in mind and just wanted us to do the research.

But, after we got home from the meeting and had poured a couple of scotches, Chris said, "I don't feel right about this somehow."

"What's wrong? We got the deal didn't we?" I replied.

Chris said, "Are you sure you got that right? We're just to do the research. And he'll give us a story which he already has worked out?"

I started to nod, then stopped to drag out my notes. Flipped through them. Found the place.

"Yep, he was adamant," I said. "We said two or three times - are you sure you don't want us to come up with a story. And he said - No. He had the story. I looked at the heavily scored pen marks beneath his exact quote and read it to Chris: "Not to worry, boys. I've got the story."

"Before he said it," I pointed out, "he thumped his chest like he really meant it."

Chris sighed and shook his head. Then, "What did you think about the guy?"

"Twenty four-carat British charm," I said. "At least that's how he comes across."

"Think it's actually gold wash?" Chris said.

"I do," I said. "I won't be surprised if he tries to pull some sort of con," I went on. "But, I still can't help liking him."

Chris laughed and topped up our drinks. "What the fuck," he said. "The Guild 's got our back. And so does Klugman. What can he do?"

So, we jumped head first into the sex crime cesspool and researched the hell out of the son of a gun. It was a skin crawly subject, but with Klugman we knew it was for a good cause. Also, it was our entry through the gates of Hollywood.

We spent a couple of weeks taking to cops who specialized in busting the miscreants, and shrinks who specialized in treating young victims, as well as those who were experts on the mindset of the perps.

When we were done, Chris and I came away pretty much of the opinion that the perps were incurable and ought to be locked up for two largish forevers.

We called Peter 's office and his assistant set up an appointment. But, while I was on the line with her I made double-damn sure of our instructions.

"Peter said he didn't want us to write the story," I told his assistant. "He said he had one he wanted to assign us. Is that still on? Or, should we get busy writing?"

The assistant said, "I know for a fact that he has a story. He had me call Business Affairs at the Tower and pencil it in on the production pay schedule."

Chris and I liked the sound of that: Pay Schedule. Rolled that around on our tongues a little. Went well with the scotch.

 Couple of days later we were once again making our way over the hill from Santa Monica to the San Fernando Valley where most of the major studios, including MCA-Universal - were planted.

Scotty was at the gate like before and he whisked us on our way with a cheery, "Break a leg, boys." Made our way along the yellow brick road to the Quincy offices - about a hundred yards up from the old Ozzie and Harriet house - and with barely a wait we were ushered into the inner-sanctum of the Executive Producer.

Imagine our surprise when we were greeted not by Peter Thompson, but a smooth, well-made fellow who wore a quirky little smile as if he viewed the world with great amusement.

He said, "I'm Al Godfrey, the new exec producer." He shook our hands, then waved us into seats.

We must have looked like we were in shock, because he kindly hastened to explain: "I know you boys were expecting to meet with Peter - and you will in a minute or two. But first, let me reassure you that I've talked to Jack and he's impressed with you boys and so I know all the background."

I heard Chris give a sigh of relief. I could tell Godfrey caught this, but he just went on to explain that Peter had been promoted to head of production for MCA/Universal.

In other worlds, he was now one of the Guys With The Big Telephones who resided in the Black Tower.

"Peter still wants to handle your script," Godfrey said, "as his final contribution to Quincy." The crooked smile of his grew a little more crooked, with a little cynical twitch at the edges. It made you wonder what he was really thinking.

Godfrey looked us up and down, measuring. Then said, "I know you're both new to the game, and might not realize it, but you now have a friend in a very high place."

Chris and I nodded. "Head of production. It's just starting to sink in," I said, still a little numb.

The desk phone buzzed. Godfrey picked it up, listened, thanked the person on the other side and said, "Let's go see Peter. He's ready for us."

Godfrey chatted as he drove us over there in his Mercedes, but I don't remember much about what he said. I was too busy absorbing the fact that Chris and I were actually going to enter the infamous executive tower.

I saw it rising in my view like an obelisk. Cue the 2001 A Space Odyssey theme music. And damn was that sucker black. Black as a producer’s soul. And it really does tower. The closer you get to the son of a bitch, the more it looms over you.

As you approach, you know that no building in the earthquake prone City Of The Angels can be really very high. But if you are an aspiring anything, and either your doom or your dreams are to be found at Universal’s Black Tower, I guarantee that it will look like the Empire State Building when you arrive.

Here's what it's like when you enter:

After being examined by Security for hidden grenades and genital warts, you are allowed to go to the elevator reception area. Generally men and women dressed in million dollar business outfits are waiting there. Very rarely shabby writers. The Suits stare at you, smiling - everyone in Hollywood cultivates a special smile - but it's about as shallow as a Casting Director's good intentions.

The elevator stops at each and every floor as you ascend. And if you dare to peek out at each stop, you will be struck at how amazingly well decorated each floor is. Lovely paintings. Plush rugs. Antique furniture. Beautiful secretaries and receptionists.

But as you rise, you’ll also notice that the carpets get thicker and richer, the paintings become originals, instead of just expensively framed copies, and the secretaries grow more and more beauteous.

When you reach the rarefied atmosphere of the very top floor - which overlooks all that the Guys With The Big Telephones choose to survey - you will step off into wonders unknown to a common writer like yourself. While you wait, they practically put out towels on the furniture so you won’t drip nervous flop sweat on the Louis the XXXZZZZ antiques.

You don’t dare look at the paintings, for fear that the light of wonder shining from your Commoner eyeballs might somehow harm them and lessen their value.

Your feet sink into the carpeting up to your ankles and janitors in gold-braided uniforms approach to make you wipe your feet on portable scrapers with handles made of polished wood.

And the secretaries - well, let me put it this way. These are women who have been genetically altered so they do not sweat, or do any of the ordinary human things regular women do. The wondrous ladies there smell only of faint, incredibly expensive perfume, have modulated voices that are eternally sweet, yet commanding, and have eyes that can warm you to the quick, or turn you into ice if you offend the dignity of the Very Top Floor Of The Black Tower. Oh, and no matter what their race, color or creed, they speak with a charming British accent, with a little French thrown in here and there for variety's sake.

Got the picture?

Okay, back to the action... After a small eternity, Peter ’s exquisite executive assistant summoned us. The three of us followed her lovely, silk-clad posterior into Peter’s Office.

It was a marvelous office. As head of production at Universal, Peter commanded a space only a few places under the legendary Lew Wasserman and his mail-fisted Knights Of The Golden Box Office. There were so many floor to ceiling windows, you felt like you might fall off the face of the Earth.

And, although you could not see All The Way To Tomorrow, the view did offer a scary glimpse of your immediate future - if All Did Not Go Well.

Peter rose from his fabulous Prince Something Or Other Desk and graced us with that roguish smile. "Thanks for coming, boys," he said. He nodded at Godfrey. "And you too, Al... How are things progressing with Jack?"

We didn't realize it then, but Klugman was famously difficult with producers, but I did note the knowing look Peter gave Godfrey.

"Every thing's coming along fine, Peter," he said. "Thanks to your smooth handover."

Peter nodded, smiling a smile of such great sincerity, that I knew it was at heart deeply insincere. In other words, Big Shot though he might be, he was worried Godfrey might show him up.

Then he turned to us, oozing warmth and charm. He made polite conversation for a minute or two, then paused. Planted his elbows on his desk and leaned forward.

Looking me right in the eyes, and holding that gaze, he said, "Okay, what's the story, boys."

It was like someone had rammed a spear into my heart. I knew Chris must feel the same. Shit, the guy had insisted that HE HAD THE STORY. He'd said it several times over the past weeks. His assistant had confirmed it only a couple of days before.

What the hell was he doing? He was fucking us. Sure, I got that. But for the life of me I didn't know why.

I looked helplessly at Chris, who had gone pale. I could see in his eyes that he was thinking, shit, shit, shit.

Then - without a beat - Chris said, "Go ahead, Cole, tell Peter the story."

If I'd had a gun, I'd have shot him. No, I would have shot myself first, then let the gun spill before his feet so he could follow me into that deep, dark place where ink-stained wretches are condemned to abide in an afterlife, where there is never a period to end a sentence, but only an endless series of commas.

This all happened in a split second. However, I hadn't been a newsman for fourteen years to not have several shovels of bullshit ready at all times.

So, I just started spouting our research. Spewing it out in way that might indicate that this was just the prelude to the story - a fabulous story yet to come. In the back of my mind I was hoping that I was giving Chris time to come up with something so I could toss the ball back to him.

Then Peter 's phone rang. Peter raised a hand, "Sorry, Allan. This will just take a tick."

As he spoke to someone on the phone I gave Chris a look of desperation. To my horror, the look I got back was one of equal desperation.

I glanced over at Godfrey, but he was just staring at the floor, that crooked smile twitching his lips.

Then Peter hung up. "Sorry, boys, but I have to run down the hall to see Lew for a second," he said. "I'll be right back."

Then he was gone. In the silent room you could sever the tension with splicing shears. Godfrey cleared his throat, getting our attention.

My head came up to see a look of great pity. "You poor putzes," he said. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Quickly, we explained. We were told not to develop a story. Just do the research.

"Peter insisted he had the story," I said once again. "But now..." my voice trailed off.

"Never mind that shit," Godfrey said. "Let's stick our heads together and come up with something before the son of a bitch comes back."

Twenty minutes later Peter swept into the office, took up residence in his plush executive chair. He gave us his total attention.

And once again he asked, "What's the story, boys?"

But this time we told him.

NEXT: HOW TO STEAL A MILLION DOLLARS
 *****



Here's where you can buy it worldwide in both paperback and Kindle editions:

U.S. .............................................France
United Kingdom ...........................Spain
Canada ........................................ Italy
Germany ..................................... Japan
Brazil .......................................... India

LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!



Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: 


Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:
  • "Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas
  • "Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. 
  • "... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com
*****
THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:
A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan


After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.



BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. 
*****

TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!

Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969
In the depths of the Sixties and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with  a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is  "The Blue Meanie,"  a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. 
***** 
STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!


Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four  episodes. Here are the links: 

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