To Kill the Duke Read online

  “I am told I am suffering from whooping cough.”

  “But when you cough, it sounds like a cough — not a whoop,” Ivan said.

  And Alex Ganchin started laughing again. Just like before, a hearty laugh that broke into a guffaw, which ended when he poured some more vodka into their cups and started to cough (but it didn’t sound like a whoop).

  “Comrade Ganchin. Figuring out the five-year plan is easier than figuring you out,” Ivan said.

  “I need a break, comrade Viznapu. This whooping cough and cold came at the right time. One can only watch what I watch for so long before one either needs a vacation, a trip to the Gulag, a room in the insane asylum or a bullet to the head, whether self-inflicted or not,” Alex said seriously.

  “And I’m your replacement while you do which of the aforementioned?” Ivan asked seriously.

  “Why, vacation! All expenses paid, to the Black Sea. The Black Sea is supposed to heal my whooping. It’s Uncle Joe’s bonus to me for all the films I show for him. And it is why I have summoned you to my flat. I wasn’t prepared for what I have to do every Friday night. I intend to help you. I learned very quickly about showing a good film, watching with my eyes and ears wide open and most importantly — my mouth shut,” Alex said somberly.

  “Ah, comrade, now I really don’t understand the use of a piranha symbol, given I have to keep my mouth shut,” Ivan said.

  “For what I do and what you are about to do, big mouths need not apply,” Alex said.

  “I guess that I am ready, comrade Ganchin,” Ivan announced.

  “I know you are, or you wouldn’t be in my flat, drinking my vodka, eating my bread dripping with honey, and getting this incredible inside-information lecture on how to act tonight as you, comrade Ivan Viznapu, run the projector for the most important man in our Union of Soviet Socialist Republic – Uncle Joe Stalin,” Alex said.

  “I am ready, and it is not the vodka speaking, comrade,” Ivan said.

  Alex looked at his watch and tapped the face of it.

  “Something wrong with your watch?” Ivan asked him.

  “I think it stopped. What time do you have?” Alex asked him.

  Ivan shrugged his shoulders.

  “You don’t know or you don’t wear a watch?” Alex said.

  “Both.” Replied Ivan.

  Alex sighed, got up and went to a metal file cabinet that was in the corner of his living room next to a desk. He opened up the bottom drawer and pulled out two fistfuls of watches.

  “Black market?” Ivan asked as he watched his friend untangle the watches and spread them on the desk top. He looked at two and put the others back, but didn’t shut the bottom drawer. He undid the strap to the watch he was wearing and let it drop into the drawer with all the other watches. He put one of the watches on and wound it. Then he wound up the other one and tossed it to Ivan.

  “Put that on. You need a watch. You’re running a projector at a film festival tonight,” Alex said.

  “How do you know it is the right time?” Ivan asked.

  “How do you know it isn’t?” Alex countered as he pointed with a nod of his head to the big grandfather clock next to the stove.

  “I have been here over an hour and I didn’t hear that thing go off,” Ivan said.

  “The chimes are broken. I picked it up in the black market for a dozen rolls of toilet paper,” Alex said with a shrug. “Now, to business about tonight, comrade,” Alex said as he pulled his chair closer and patted Ivan’s knees.

  Ivan finished his vodka and held out his cup for more.

  Alex shook his head. “We have six hours before you report. I’ll take about 15 minutes to fill you in and then you take a nap.”

  Ivan nodded in agreement. Ivan, like many people in the USSR, liked to take naps, especially after a few belts of vodka.

  “Comrade, Viznapu. You will be in the inner circle of the inner circle when the film festival begins tonight. I call it the movie cabinet. Those in attendance with our fearless leader run the country, even though some of them are not big-name members of the Communist Party or hold lofty titles. What they are, are men who love movies, love having sex with the women they bring in, who are not their wives, if you know what I mean. Lots of vodka and good food. Developing policies for the country, and most importantly, employing a man who runs the projector perfectly and agrees with everything they say and does everything they ask him to. Understand?” Alex said seriously.

  “I think so,” Ivan said with a yawn. “Basically, I have to do my job perfectly behind the projector. If I am called upon to do other things, I have to do them even better than perfect.”

  “Good. I knew I could count on you to be my replacement while I recover. By the way, the reason I got this job is that the guy before me got fresh with the girls,” warned Alex.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be happily asexual, doing my job,” Ivan boasted.

  “So was he,” said Alex “and they scalped him.”

  Ivan’s expression went totally blank.

  “He was happy doing his job, but not so much being asexual. You’re not into the American West?” Alex asked his visitor.

  “I’m not into the West at all, comrade. They value greed at all levels. And when things don’t mesh out as they want, they blame it on us,” Ivan said.

  “That’s a good answer if you are a big-shot in the party. But you’re not. You need a quick primer on cowboys versus Indians. Because that’s the number-one type of movie you will be projecting on the screen. And comrade… Uncle Joe loves cowboy movies above all else. Second place goes to Marlene Dietrich movies and there is no third place. Indians scalped their victims by taking a very sharp knife to the top of the dead person’s scalp and peeling it back… hair, skin and brain matter. The Premier told me that some people were scalped while living and he told me that this is what happened to the man who showed movies before I was hired. So, do as I lecture you to. You have nice hair,” Alex said unexpectedly with a laugh, as he tussled Ivan’s thick black mane.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Ivan said as he ran to the kitchen sink and puked.

  “I know it wasn’t the vodka, tea, bread or honey,” so you will not let me down. Know what a pioneer is?” Alex asked.

  “No,” replied Ivan.

  “Someone who got scalped,” Alex said.

  “Like the guy you replaced,” Ivan said. “No way am I becoming a pioneer. Do you believe Stalin?” Ivan said as he spit a few times into the sink and ran the water to wash the spit down into the sewers of Moscow. He also watered his face and the back of his neck. The coolness of the water made him feel better. “Do you believe about the scalp?”

  “Ask him to show it to you,” Alex said matter of factly and don’t puke when he does. By the way – toughski shitski.”

  “Toughski shitski. Boy, do you need a vacation! I think along with whooping cough, you’re going crazy,” Ivan said quietly. “But I do like that phrase ‘toughski shitski.’ Mind if I borrow it?”

  Alex laughed, coughed and sneezed as he shook his head yes to Ivan’s request. “Now for the do’s and don’ts of tonight my friend.”

  Ivan sat up straight and leaned forward.

  “As I said before, you must be on time with everything you do. The minute the first film ends, you have to have the second one ready to go. There are two projectors, so you shouldn’t have a problem there. I have a list of the movies that you will be showing tonight. I will give it to you before you take the nap that you need to be fresh and ready for tonight. Memorize the list before you go to sleep and tape the list somewhere in the little room that will be your fortress tonight. Also, remember that the rules of tonight are there are no rules.”

  “Examples please, comrade,” Ivan pleaded. He needed more inside information… wanted more inside information.

  “Do you want examples that are asked or told?” Alex responded.

  “That doesn’t help me, comrade,” Ivan said dejectedly.

  �
��I know. I am afraid if I tell you some things and they don’t take place, you will that I am a liar, and you might make trouble for me,” Alex warned.

  “I would never do such a thing,” Ivan protested.

  “Famous last words here in the Kremlin,” Alex said sarcastically.

  “Toughski shitski! Please comrade. I will not hold you accountable in any way, if things don’t go according to what you tell me now,” Ivan said.

  “Tonight, you will start out with a movie called The Big Trail. It is a western and do not be surprised that some of the senior members of the party dress up as cowboys and Indians,” Alex again warned Ivan.

  “Are you serious, comrade?” Communist party members not dressed up like soldiers of the revolution… but as players in a western? Isn’t Hollywood everything we are not supposed to be?” Ivan asked his superior.

  “This is why I didn’t want to tell you anything. Because if those same members decide not to dress up as cowboys and Indians tonight, your mind will start to wander and it might not only do me harm, but you as well,” Alex said.

  “How so, Alex?” Ivan asked.

  “We both know how I would be perceived by you. At worst a liar, at best someone with a playful imagination who might be crazy and in need of a vacation on the Black Sea. Then, you might have a slip of the tongue heard by the wrong person who might have us arrested or even shot, because while you’re being asked questions about what you said, you will forget about the next reel of film and then comrade Stalin will personally shoot you for the movie not being shown. You might absolutely flip out when you are called into the private bedroom of our leader himself, and are asked to show a certain film but not to notice that he is either going to masturbate to the image of Marlene Dietrich on screen, or make some poor whore dress up like Dietrich… and sodomize her while one of Dietrich’s films is playing,” Alex said.

  “Are you serious, comrade Ganchin?” a bewildered Ivan Viznapu said.

  “I am as serious as a heart attack,” Alex said sternly.

  “Tell me more about the first movie,” Ivan said, trying to change the subject.

  “Ah-ha comrade! Trying to change the subject?”

  “Why yes, comrade. Wouldn’t you?” Ivan said.

  “I did when the same stuff was brought up to me,” Alex said. “Now I know you’re perfect.”

  “I don’t know if I should take that as praise or as some sort of curse,” Ivan said.

  “Toughski shitski,” Alex said. “There is only one thing you have to know about the first movie.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It is a John Wayne movie. He is the king of the cowboys. He is what all Americans think an American hero should be. On film, he saves the day and gets the girl. And comrade… it is rumored that Uncle Joe and his staff talk about killing him. I think that’s pure bunk. It is more like they all wish they were John Wayne. Don’t get involved in any discussion either way. Don’t play dumb when they ask you about cowboy movies — they will think that you’re hiding something. Tell them you don’t like westerns. Tell them that you like romance, because you’re single, and though you rarely think about sex you hope you find a girl like Hollywood movies say a single person should. Being Russian men, they will like that. I told them that I like drama, so don’t use my excuse,” Alex said.

  “I thought I was supposed to be asexual? How can I like romance if I am asexual? Can’t I ask to view some documentaries about the siege of Stalingrad?” Ivan said.

  “No, don’t say that! Otherwise you’ll see the worst movies ever made. So boring or fake that you’ll want to put six bullets in a pistol and play Russian roulette,” warned Alex.

  A moment passed. “Killing a western movie star? Are you serious comrade? Worse, are they serious?” Ivan asked. “By the way I really liked one documentary about the siege of Stalingrad.”

  “Good for you. So now you’re a critic? Look, they are very serious men when they are drinking. It’s an alcoholic-induced insight, but they talk about it in depth. The big shots think it will be a big blow to the mystique of western culture. Personally – and don’t ever repeat this – I think it is all about our leader’s obsession with Dietrich,” Alex said.

  “I don’t get the connection,” Ivan said.

  “Two words,” replied Alex.

  “Don’t think?” Ivan guessed.

  “A good guess, comrade. John Wayne,” said Alex.

  “Him again. Why? What is the connection? I’m too worried about everything around me to know anything about Marlene Dietrich and John Wayne. I know that I am a peon in this world, but I don’t have a clue to why Uncle Joe is connected to Marlene Dietrich, who is connected to John Wayne, whose film I am showing tonight,” Ivan said, exasperated.

  “What I tell you now will make very little sense, until you are done cleaning up the mess after tonight,” Alex said.

  “I have to clean, too?” Ivan said disappointed.

  “No. I’m being a wise guy again. You do some cleaning. But you get the table scraps, comrade. How do you think I got this vodka that we are imbibing? On my salary, which isn’t much more than yours? Ha! You get to watch the movies and eat damn well while the film is in progress. You’ll get a blanket or a dress or a hat or a coat that will be left behind. If you don’t want it, sell it on the black market. You’ll get bread, honey, silverware, dishes, pens, and most importantly…”

  “Toilet paper!” cut in Ivan.

  “Lots of toilet paper comrade. And it’s soft. No more chaffing from the rough wipe! Here, let me show you some,” Alex said gleefully as he got up and went to his bathroom.

  Alex came back juggling a roll of toilet paper between his hands. He tossed it at Ivan, who caught it and started squeezing it softly. He then held it up against his cheek.

  “Wow! I think it’s softer than my pillow.”

  “No doubt, comrade. After tonight, you’ll have a roll to sleep on. A roll to trade on the black market and most importantly, a roll to wipe with,” Alex said with a chuckle.

  “I think I’m going to like this job, comrade. Go on,” Ivan said.

  “There isn’t much to add. Basically you will witness the highs and lows of Communism,” Alex said laughing. “But you’ll also see three westerns. John Wayne even sings in one of them!”

  “Is that why Stalin wants to kill him?” Ivan asked

  Alex broke out laughing. “Americans wanted to kill him, his singing is so bad.”

  “I’m very confused about this John Wayne,” sighed Ivan.

  “John Wayne will star in every western you show tonight. One is really good. It is called Red River, and Uncle Joe and the gang love it. They all wish they were him, and it is the only movie during which all of them will shut up and actually watch. You will show a bunch of Dietrich movies to the Premier only. At some point he will talk to you about why he really hates Wayne,” Alex stated.

  “And why is that, comrade?’ Ivan asked.

  “Because he thinks that Wayne and Dietrich were lovers, and that really pisses off Uncle Joe. Now go to sleep to get ready,” Alex said as he draped a very thin blanket over his friend. Despite being able to carry oodles of goodies out after every movie showing, Alex had never been able to find a heavy blanket.

  Ivan lay down wondering why he had ever left his day job and thought his new job would definitely be more fun that listening to medium-level officials talk. Oh well, toughski shitski and he dosed off to sleep.

  chapter two

  IN DICK POWELL’S OFFICE

  “The best thing about switching from being an actor to being a director is that you don’t have to shave or hold in your stomach anymore.”

  — Dick Powell

  “I’m not a paranoid, deranged millionaire.

  Goddamit, I’m a billionaire!”

  — Howard Hughes

  “That’s what I aim to do.”

  — John Wayne as Breck Coleman in “The Big Trail”

  Dick Powell was running behind schedule
and he didn’t like that — especially when the cause was a very long phone call. He hadn’t liked it when he was an actor, and now as a producer and a director, he really hated it. This thought made him have a mini-flashback to the many pictures he had made. Now, he felt empathy for all the people he had worked with on his movies. After all, they’d helped make him a star. He made a mental note to treat everyone behind the camera with respect and better than he had been. He knew it would be hard to treat the people behind the scenes with a respect that would rival the pampering that the people in front of the cameras received, and being a big-star… albeit a humble one, he felt he could pull that off without a problem.

  Some actors who turned producer and director ran into many problems with actors. Dick Powell felt he had encountered everything from every actor and actress who ever spoke a word in Hollywood. He believed this was because of his total commitment and involvement in the Screen Actors Guild. For example, he had remembered when, on his first set as a bit player with one line, everyone ignored him. As his stock rose in the acting field – from bit player to mentioned player to co-star to big star – he always helped everyone on the set with any roles in the film.

  “After all,” he had once said to a co-star who questioned Dick’s kindness to a bit player “that could be me all over again. I try to remember where I came from. It means something to me.”

  Another time, a certain director was going to be fired because the director was way over the budget allocated for the film. Dick Powell liked the director, went to the producers and offered to work for a piece of the profits instead of his allotted salary. The director was retained, Powell’s salary was cut and he never realized one penny of the deal he agreed to with the producers. Dick Powell learned from that lesson.

  “Producers’ words are their bonds, unless they made a mistake,” he liked to tell others with a chuckle.

  A third lesson came after he had punched out another actor who was forcing himself on a much younger female bit player. She wanted nothing to do with the co-star. When the co-star asked Powell if he was gay, Powell punched him again.