Johnny Hangtime (11 page)

R
oland gathered the cast and crew at the Rainbow Bridge, where we were to shoot the last two scenes of
Two Birds, One Stone
. The wardrobe people dressed me in clothes that looked just like the clothes Ricky was wearing when he went over the falls. I was drenched with water, so I'd look like I just climbed out of the river.

“Okay,” Roland explained, “I rewrote the script a little, so let me set the scene for you, Johnny. You survived the falls, but Augusta is dead. Well, she's not
really
dead, but you
think
she's dead. You crawl out of the water and flop down on the bank. Go ahead.”

I looked at my script….

 

BOBBY
(sobbing)
Why, why, why did you have to die?
You meant so much to me!
I loved you. I'll never forget you.

“Are you kidding, Roland?” I asked. “I have to say this?”

“Yes, and with feeling. Quiet everybody. Roll camera!”

“Why, why, why did you have to die?” I moaned. “You meant so much to me! I loved you. I'll never forget you.”

“Cut!” Roland shouted. “Johnny, you look like you're acting.”

“I
am
acting.”

“I need for you to act without looking like you're acting. I need real emotion here. Try thinking of something sad. I'm sure you have some bad memories you can dredge up from the recesses of your brain. Let's try it again. Roll camera!”

I thought of all the sad things that had happened to me. Like the time some kid beat me up in third grade when I wouldn't let him cheat off me in a spelling test. And the time I left my baseball card collection on a bus and never saw it again. I thought of how I felt when Dad went over Niagara Falls and we all thought he was dead. I thought of how I felt when Dad showed up again and told me that he and Mom never really got along. And then I thought of Squirt.

So much had happened, I had almost forgotten about Squirt's death. When we finished the movie and went back home, it would be the first time Squirt wouldn't be there. Tears started welling up in my eyes.

All my life I had trained myself not to cry. Dad always said crying was for babies. Big boys didn't do it. But I felt tears coming on and for the first time I didn't try to stop them. I was going to wipe them away, but I didn't. That made them worse. My eyes were all watery and I couldn't see out of them, and I started to weep. I couldn't control myself.

“Why, why,
why
did you have to die?” I moaned. “You meant so much to me! I loved you. I'll never forget you. I used to love the way your hooves clattered down the gravel road. The way—”

“Cut!” Roland yelled. “Beautiful, Johnny! We'll just cut that part out about the hooves. It will be great. You're a natural!”

Everybody gave me a standing ovation. Roland gave me a big hug and handed me the new last page of the script….

 

Jennifer embraces Bobby.

 

BOBBY
(shocked)
You're alive! I can't believe it!

 

JENNIFER
(stroking his hair)
I couldn't die without you.
Just as I can't live without you.

 

BOBBY
And now you've given
me a reason to live.

 

Bobby and Jennifer kiss.

 

I had to read that last part twice.
Bobby and Jennifer kiss
. Nobody mentioned to me that there was a
kissing
scene. Not that I was opposed to it or anything, but…

“Roland,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder. “I need to talk to you about something. In private.”

“What is it?” he asked as he walked me toward the road.

“This is kind of embarrassing, but I…I've never kissed a girl before.”

“Hmm,” Roland said, rubbing his beard. “This could pose some problems. I could cut the scene…”

“No!” I protested. “It's just that she's…”

“So beautiful?” Roland asked. “Perhaps I could get some really ugly girls for you to practice with. Then you could work your way up to Augusta?”

“No,” I said. “She's Ricky Corvette's
girlfriend
. And he's lying in a hospital bed—”

“Ricky's girlfriend?” Roland roared with laughter. “Ricky and Augusta
despise
each other! That boyfriend/girlfriend nonsense is merely gossip twaddle to keep them in the news. Just pucker up and do what comes naturally. You'll be fine.”

A limousine pulled up and Augusta Wind got out, looking like an angel. Her mother quickly followed, wearing earrings that were so big, I wondered why they didn't rip her earlobes off.

“Roland!” Augusta's mother shouted, waving her script. “I need to have a word with you!”

“Yes, Marcia?” Roland walked over to her, like a man on the way to his own execution.

“What's the meaning of this?” she asked. “I didn't send my daughter to acting school for four years so she could kiss a
stunt boy
!”

She said
stunt boy
almost like she were saying
vermin
.

“Who was it,” Roland asked, “that you sent your daughter to acting school to kiss?”

“A star, like Ricky Corvette, you twit!”

“Marcia, as you very well know, Ricky Corvette is unavailable. Johnny is taking his place, and I'm sure he will do an excellent—”

“Augusta's not happy, Roland!” her mother said angrily. “Nowhere in her contract does it say she has to kiss any stunt boys.”

Suddenly, Augusta broke out of the comatose cloud she always
seemed to walk around in. She glared at her mother.

“That's it!” she shouted, waving her arms around. “I've had it! I'll kiss anyone I want!”

With that, Augusta wrapped her arms around me, bent me backward, and kissed me hard on the lips. I was too surprised to do anything but gasp.

“How do you like that, Mother?” Augusta yelled. “I'm almost sixteen years old! You can't control my life anymore. I'm not some mannequin that you can cart around and pose any way you want!”

“Augusta Wind!” her mother said, shocked. “How
dare
you speak to me in that tone of voice!”

“My name is
not
Augusta Wind,” Augusta said. “That stupid name was
your
idea. My name is Gladys Shmutz, and that's what I want to be called from this moment on.”

Gladys Shmutz?

“How could you?” Mrs. Wind—I mean, Mrs. Shmutz—moaned. “I've been grooming you to be a star since you were three! When I think of all the money I spent on ballet school, hair stylists, singing lessons, makeup, photographers, nutritionists, tutors. And this is how you treat me?”

“Leave me alone!” Gladys yelled. “I want you
out
of my life! I never asked for any of those things! All I ever wanted to do was go out and play like a normal girl!”

And then she stormed off down the road.

Man, what an exit! Those four years of acting school really paid off. I felt like
she
should get a standing ovation. I would give her an Oscar for Best Actress in a minute.

Roland led the disraught Mrs. Shmutz back to the limo and sent it back to the hotel. Then he retrieved Gladys and set up the scene. I had to lie down against a rock, looking half dead. Gladys knelt down
and held me. All the camera guys, gaffers, grips, and everybody else were standing around staring at us. There must have been fifty people watching.

“Hello,” I said to Gladys as Roland monkeyed with the camera. “I'm Johnny Thyme. I don't think we've ever been formally introduced.”

“I'm Gladys,” she smiled. “It's nice to meet you. I was always too shy to come over and—”

“Okay, enough chitchat,” Roland called. “Roll camera!”

“You're alive!” I emoted. “I can't believe it!”

“I couldn't die without you,” Gladys replied. “Just as I can't live without you.”

“And now you've given me a reason to live.”

Gladys put both arms around my neck and slowly moved her face to mine until our lips met. As we held it, my heart was beating so fast, I thought my chest was going to explode.

“Cut!” Roland yelled.

I didn't look at Gladys. It was too embarrassing. I was ready to get up, but Roland held up his hand.

“Okay, let's try that again, everyone,” he announced. “Move the light a little to the right to pick up Augusta's face.”

“Again?” I asked.

“Johnny, it's not like falling off the Statue of Liberty, where you have to get it right in one take. We might have to shoot this scene over and over all afternoon until we get it perfect.”

“Do I get paid each time?” I joked. “That's the way it always worked before.”

Gladys punched me on the arm, but she was smiling.

“If he doesn't want to kiss her, I'd be happy to take over,” one of the cameramen shouted. Everybody laughed.

Roland was right. I did just fine. In fact, after about ten takes, Gladys and I had gotten so good at kissing that we were still doing it after Roland yelled “Cut!” Finally he had to tap us on our shoulders and tell us to knock it off.

T
wo Birds, One Stone
came out a few months later. I went to the premiere in Hollywood with Mom and Gladys. It was really cool, even though I had to wear a tuxedo and my neck itched the whole time. My name was up on the marquee in big letters. Flashes were popping all over the place when Gladys and I got out of the limo.

Going to school Monday morning after the movie opened was really strange. Instead of Boris Bonner waiting on the front steps to beat me up, there was an enormous banner:

CONGRATULATIONS JOHNNY HANGTIME!

Everybody swarmed all over me, shaking my hand and pounding me on the back. Some of the teachers even came over and asked for my autograph. Suddenly I had more friends than I knew what to do with. And all the girls who used to totally ignore me were gawking at me with this goofy look in their eyes that I had never seen before.
I guess being in movies suddenly makes a guy a lot better-looking.

At the end of the day, after I had signed about three hundred autographs, I went to my locker to get my books. Everyone else had gone home by then. The peace and quiet felt good.

And then Boris Bonner came over.

I knew I would have to deal with him at some point. I wondered what he would say to me now that he knew the truth about why I couldn't take gym class, why I never went to dances, why I used to be such a bore at school.

Bonner reached into his pocket and pulled out a few dollar bills.

“I'm sorry about the way I treated you,” he said, holding the money out to me. “I didn't realize you were cool. If you'll forgive me, I'd like to be friends.”

I looked at him. I could take the money. I could also spit in his face. It was my choice.

“Don't ever treat anybody that way again,” I warned Bonner. “Whether you think they're cool or not.”

And then I walked away.

 

Two Birds, One Stone
made something like sixty million dollars the first weekend, and broke box-office records all over the country. Right away, Paramount started planning the sequel,
Three Birds, Two Stones
.

So, picture this: I'm standing on the 103rd-floor “Skydeck” of the Sears Tower in downtown Chicago. This building—the second tallest in the world—has 16,100 windows, 25,000 miles of plumbing, 2,000 miles of electrical wire, and 43,000 miles of telephone cable.

They don't call it the Windy City for nothing. I can barely hold on up here. Below, Lake Michigan looks like an ocean. In the dis
tance, I can see parts of Indiana, Michigan, and Wisconsin. The Skydeck is 1,353 feet above the ground.

And I'm about to jump off it.

 

Here's the plot of
Three Birds, Two Stones
: A gang of drug dealers has taken over the Sears Tower. They're armed, and they've taken positions on every tenth floor. Augusta Wind—or, I should say, Gladys Shmutz—is tied up in the lobby, and they're planning to torture her.

I have to jump from the Skydeck with a hang glider on my back. As I corkscrew around and around the building on my way down, I'll have to pick off the drug dealers one at a time with my machine gun. After I land, I'll blow away the leader in the lobby and rescue Gladys.

Truly, this is the coolest gag I have
ever
been asked to do.

Yet, somehow, something doesn't feel right. Ever since I met Dad at Niagara Falls, I realize, my heart hasn't been into stunting.

It's too late to back out now. Helicopters are in the air, hovering around the building on all sides. The crew has their cameras in position. Roland's got his bullhorn in his hand. Mom's got her fingers crossed. I give my harness one last yank to make sure it's tight all around.

“Ready, Johnny?” Roland asks.

“I guess.”

“Nervous?”

“A little.”

“It's a piece of cake,” Roland assures me. “I'll meet you at Dairy Queen. Roll cameras!”

I take a deep breath. I'm about to lean forward off the ledge.

Suddenly, a guy with a briefcase comes running over.

“Wait!” he screams, all out of breath. “Don't jump!”

“Stop cameras!” Roland yells. “Hold everything!”

I exhale and come back off the ledge. The guy with the briefcase rushes over to me. I recognize him as one of the Paramount lawyers. There is a teenage kid behind him.

“We've decided…” the Paramount guy huffs, gasping for breath, “…it's way too dangerous…for Johnny…to be doing this gag. Especially…after what happened to Ricky Corvette. So we hired a stuntkid…to take Johnny's place.”

“You hired somebody to do stunts in place of
me
?” I ask, a wave of relief sweeping over my body.

“Johnny, you're a star now,” the lawyer explains. “The studio can't risk something happening to you. I believe your days as a stuntkid are over.”

Well, Mom lets out this shriek of joy that could probably shatter every one of those 16,100 windows in the Sears Tower. She hugs Roland and grabs me, almost knocking the breath out of me.

“Mom! No kissing, okay?” I protest.

“Meredith,” Roland says to Mom, “perhaps this would be an opportune moment to invite you to have dinner with me this evening. I know of a marvelous steak house on Rush Street—”

“You've got a date, Roland,” Mom replies quickly.

The teenage kid who was with the lawyer steps forward and sticks out his hand. “Mr. Hangtime,” he says to me, “my name is Bobby Holiday. I've seen all your movies. Dude, you're my idol. I'm an adrenaline junkie, and I'm totally stoked about taking your place.”

I help Bobby put on the hang glider and show him how to work the fake machine gun. Roland explains the gag to him carefully and Bobby steps out onto the ledge.

“Roll cameras!” Roland shouts.

“We'll meet you at Pizza Hut,” I call to Bobby. He looks puzzled,
and I add, “I'll explain later.” I give Bobby the thumbs-up sign. He leans forward, pushes off with his legs, and he's gone.

I lean over the edge of the Skydeck and watch Bobby glide around and around the building like a paper airplane, spitting out sparks of machine-gun fire as he goes. As he disappears from view, I realize that I'm not wishing it was me. And it feels good.