Cold Hands Howard

https://www.youtube.com/embed/q111bDVYNXk” target=”_blank”>Link to DVD trailer

Back in 1966 when Howard Kazanjian was in the assistant director training program with the DGA, he was called up to the Stockton California area to work on a film with 1st AD Hank Moonjean. Moonjean had been in the business since the mid-fifties, and had a solid reputation. Notably, he had been associated with Paul Newman projects since his 1956 MGM film “Somebody Up There Likes Me” based on the life of prizefighter Rocky Graziano, and was on four of Newman’s next five at the same studio (Until They Sail, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Sweet Bird of Youth, and The Prize).

They were now in Lodi, California doing a night time shoot on a new Paul Newman feature, “Cool Hand Luke,” this time for Jack Lemmon’s production company to be released by Warner Bros. Hank Moonjean kept Howard by his side, right next to the camera, and mentored him. He gave Howard sage advice –  “Never sit down” with the further explanation – “you’re not in control.” And this night as Paul Newman’s character Luke Jackson was lopping off the heads of a line of parking meters, Moonjean further admonished him “Take your hands out of your pocket.” [Howard – this despite the fact that it was freezing out there].

They spent two solid months in Stockton, California to get all their exterior shots. Daily Howard rode the bus with the cast and crew from the hotel to the camp. The only exceptions were the actors J D Cannon and George Kennedy, and Paul Newman of course. [Howard – Paul Newman was nice – he would order Coors beer for the crew every night. But he kept quiet and to himself – distant really. Other people’s radar detected that, and gave him his space].

It was a high testosterone cast. Besides the actors mentioned, this prison tale’s landscape was populated with familiar faces: Strother Martin, Clifton James, Morgan Woodward, Luke Askew, Dennis Hopper, Wayne Rogers, Harry Dean Stanton, Ralph Waite and Anthony Zerbe. Of the cast’s thirty-seven members only two were women – Jo Van Fleet, an actress who played Luke’s mom, and Joy Harmon, whose car washing scene raised eyebrows among the cast and after the film’s release. [Howard – the scene was not planned in advance].

The lop-sided proportion was reflected in the crew also. Here too there were only two women, a hair stylist and the script supervisor. This fact was overlooked on occasion and led to some ticklish problems. In one instance the female script supervisor was put in a very uncomfortable position. In preparation for an important scene, the one in which Luke was to be punished by being placed in solitary, a small box the size of an outhouse – all unnecessary crew and cast were moved well back from the camera setup (about a hundred feet). The only ones allowed close were those required to be there –  the director and his staff, the cameramen and this script supervisor. She had no idea what was going to happen. The script read:

          Luke steps forward, pulls off his shirt and jacket. He steps
                behind the latticework screen to take off his pants as the
                Captain speaks.

When Newman stripped off all his clothes, the script supervisor burst into tears. Howard watched as Hank Moonjean leapt into action, suddenly aware of the problem, he stepped up to comfort her, and apologized profusely that she had not been filled in completely beforehand.

Howard relates that the DP, Conrad Hall, (“Connie” to cast and crew) was an excellent cameraman, and that he wished he had been able to work with him more.  The director, Stuart Rosenburg had worked mainly in TV and at that time had only one film to his credit (as co-director on Murder Inc in 1960).  Howard remembers him as a nice, quiet individual, a smoker. And perhaps because he was riding herd on such a huge cast – he let Connie select all the camera positions and lenses, controlling completely the look of the film.

When the exteriors were complete, the company moved back to the studio for interiors. But with a week and a half still to run on “Cool Hand Luke,” Howard was taken off and put onto Camelot, (the principals were just back from shooting exteriors in Europe). Howard Kazanjian’s training was over.

Hitchcock and Me

Hitchcock and Me

I had to do some research to nail down the time period that I was at the Cinerama theater. As I mentioned in a former post, the theater changed hands some time during my tenure there. I was able to run down the date that this occurred by checking with the Seattle Times newspaper website. On August 15, 1972, the Cinerama was taken over by the Sterling Recreation Organization.

Using this same site I was able to track down the films that were booked at the Cinerama and hopefully to trace back to the time I started. I am not quite one hundred per cent sure, but I think I began when Stanley Kramer’s film, Bless the Beasts and Children was playing there, which puts the date as sometime in November 1971. I don’t think many people are familiar with this film. Not many saw it when it was out. It was a “coming of age” story about a bunch of misfit boys out to save a herd of bison from slaughter.  It wasn’t long before a second feature, the sci-fi film Marooned was added to it to help out.

From then until the take over, I tore tickets for:

Ryan’s Daughter – by one of my favorite directors – David Lean

Sometimes a Great Notion – Paul Newman (starred and directed) which might have been a re-release as it opened originally in 1970

A Clockwork Orange – Kubrick – this carried an “X” rating for its violence and controversy

Silent Running – directed by Doug Trumbull (famous for the SFX on Kubrick’s 2001)

While Bruce Dern and his robots Huey, Dewey and Louis were trying to save the last of Earth’s plant life, another figure joined the lobby to promote an upcoming film. And I had my eye on him.

Alfred Hitchcock was a great showman as well as a legendary director. For his upcoming film he had had full size cutouts of his standing figure created for theater lobbies across America. There he stood with a finger pointed at whomever he was facing. And attached to the back of the figure was a small tape recorder that continually played a message from the Master of Suspense – all centered around neckties – to huckster for his latest film – Frenzy.

I prevailed upon Mr. McKnight to give me the cutout after the film completed its run. And he acceded to my request, but not until after the run was stretched a bit when Clint Eastwood’s Play Misty for Me was added to boost the attendance.

When Woody Allen’s “Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex * But Were Afraid to Ask” moved in, I moved Hitch out and gave him a ride home in my Roadrunner.

Upon arriving home, I propped Hitch up on the front step and rang the doorbell. When my Mom answered the door, she must have jumped a foot in the air, and three feet back. After she recovered her composure, she told me, “Let’s do it to Dad!”

So we did.

Pontiac Descending or I Hit a House

Pontiac Descending or I Hit a House

It was the Age of Aquarius. I wasn’t getting a haircut as often and when I did I made sure the barber left my sideburns long.

I had a new pair of bell-bottom jeans (which my mom said made me look like a sailor – but what did she know?).  I also had a “new” car. I don’t remember how long I had this, my third vehicle, but it was long enough to get into trouble.  The first two, the aforementioned Desoto and the subsequent unmentioned two tone green Plymouth were stolid monsters. This third one was more of a boat – long and wide and despite that, I may say sleek.

It was a 1959 Pontiac Catalina, white outside with a red interior. And it had tail fins – twin twins, two on each side. With the tail lights strategically placed under them on the back panel, it gave the illusion of the glowing red engines of a rocket. And with a 389 under the hood it had plenty of power.

I was all set to go out on a date. My first. But I didn’t know where my date lived. She worked with me at the Renton Cinema behind the concession stand, and had given me her address. I just wasn’t sure that I had taken the right turn off of the main highway.

So what was I going to do? There were no cell phones in that day. No phone booths in sight. And I didn’t want to go all the way home to call. So I backed into the driveway of the first house I saw to ask for directions.

I walked down the driveway and over to the front door and knocked. The owner answered the door and my question. I indeed had the right street, I just needed to go further up the gravelled road and hang a right in the stand of trees at the top. The trouble came when I went back to my Pontiac.

I hadn’t noticed when I backed in that my car was resting on some loose earth on that side of the driveway. I was soon on my back clinging to the open door as my car rolled down the incline. It was a slow but inexorable procession, only stopping when the rear end struck the garage door of the house. And only then was I able to gain my feet. Quite shaken.

After another round with my insurance company, I was on my way. For the Pontiac was in no way impared. I was able to pick up my date, meet her mother, and head to downtown Seattle  – destination the Coliseum Theater, where we saw Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. We both liked Paul Newman and Robert Redford, but she soon let it be known that she was not interested in me.

However, don’t cry for me. Soon after I would go out with another “candy” girl who was interested in me, and later became my wife. Instead consider the rest of the story and never wonder again why guys don’t like to stop and ask for directions.