Charles Willeford - The Woman Chaser

The Woman Chaser

Charles Willeford

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Using the thumb and forefinger of the right hand, get a little slack and pull the film through this little thing-a-ma-jig. Clamp here. Leave a small loop so it won't flutter, and then go up over this, down under this, around this, and then tight around the big one. (It has to fit tight on the sound drum). Then under this, over this, under this again, around this, and down. Insert the feeder in the lower reel and you are almost ready. Turn on the sound and let it warm up. See the tiny red light? Now out with the houselights and flip the toggle switch to ON. If the sound is loud enough the incidental slithering of the film won't bother you a bit. ...

Richard Hudson pressed the counter in his hand one more time before he took a look at it. 873. That was a lot of iron to pass one spot in fifteen minutes. And more passed the other way going toward Hollywood. 927. The Los Angeles Transit Company bus stopped at the corner every fourteen minutes discharging an average of six passengers, taking on five. Across the street on the other corner a streetcar stopped every seven minutes, and three men and one woman and one child got aboard, while two women and one child dismounted. That was the average for the location. Richard Hudson had been checking it for two days.

A beautiful average and a wonderful location. And yet, the used car dealer across the street sat on his big fat keister smoking cigarettes and gurgling Coca-Colas all day long when he had thirty-five unsold automobiles glaring under the California sun.

With an impatient movement of his fingers Richard noosed his rep tie and slid across the hot leather seat of his 1940 Continental convertible (a very clean car) and climbed out on the sidewalk side. It had been very warm for May sitting in the direct rays of the sun and he blotted his face with an Irish linen handkerchief, jerked his jacket down in back. He was wearing a new black silk suit, and it was well wrinkled. One day's wear and the suit was ready for the cleaners, but it gave Richard an air of prosperity, and at the moment he was prosperous.

Richard Hudson was about to steal a used car lot and every automobile on it.

At the corner he waited for the green light before crossing the busy street. In San Francisco he would have dashed across, dodging between cars, but in Los Angeles, to cross against a red light means a ticket for jaywalking and/or sudden death. This was Crenshaw Boulevard; 873 cars one way and 927 cars the other way every fifteen minutes.

Upon reaching the lot Richard walked slowly around a vintage Buick, eyeing it critically and kicking the tires. Such obvious shopping tactics should have roused the owner from his lethargy, but he didn't even look up from his comic book. A lazy mixed-up skid. Richard was forced to go to him.

"You selling used cars today?" Richard asked, smiling down at the heavy man in the chair.

"Yes, sir. See anything you like?"

"Yeah," Richard mused, "I like all thirty-five."

"Can't make up your mind, huh?" The owner wiped his sweating neck with the back of his hand, leaned his chair back comfortably against the wall of the small stucco office building.

Richard broadened his thin smile. "Yeah," he said, "I can make up my mind. Can you?"

"What do you mean?" The dealer was beginning to get suspicious of Richard's manner, and he got uneasily to his feet.

"I mean all thirty-five. You own them all. You have a lease on the lot with three more years to run and you aren't doing worth a damn. You should have hung onto the two apartment houses you owned in St Louis."

"Now wait a minute, Mr.--"

"Don't get excited, Mr. Ehlers." Richard handed the dealer his card. "My name is Richard Hudson and my business is used cars. I'll take all of these heaps off your hands and buy your lease. You don't want to work anyway. Why not retire permanently and enjoy the sun at the beach instead of sitting on a Crenshaw used car lot?"

"You've got a point there; Mr. Hudson, wasn't it?" Mr. Ehlers reached out a soft white hand for Richard to shake.

"Richard Hudson is right. Chief representative of Honest Hal Parker, San Francisco. And I'll give you seventeen thousand, five for the cars on the lot as they stand, including the lease. Final price. No dickering."

Mr. Ehlers looked blankly across the white gravel of the lot, at the flapping, fading bunting strung on wires above the shiny merchandise, and performed some slow mental arithmetic. Richard could have done it for him a lot quicker. At midnight the night before, Richard had gone through the lot with THE BOOK, and his offer was exactly $300 below list on every car, not counting two pre-WWII models Mr. Ehlers would probably have thrown in for nothing anyway.

Ehlers lit a filter-tipped cigarette and Richard perceived the trembling of his fingers. The price was very right for a slipping business and Ehlers knew it. But when a person offers good money for something it is the nature of man to want more than was offered.

"What about my lease?" Ehlers asked timidly.

"I said I'd take that too."

"You didn't mention what you'd pay me for my lease."

"That's right," Richard lit a cigarette, but his hands did not tremble. "I'll give you nothing for the lease," he said in a flat, even voice, "but I'll take over your burden of the $250 a month payments. Now just what in the hell would you do with an empty parking lot?"

"It cost me a lot of dough--"

"I'm not you!" Richard reminded the dealer sharply. "Is it a deal or isn't it?"

Mr. Ehlers sat down wearily in his chair, pressed the fingers of his right hand against his forehead, cradled his right elbow in the palm of his left hand. A few moments later a notebook came out of his shirt pocket and he started figuring with a ballpoint pen. After five minutes of figuring with the pen and notebook a beautiful smile creased his round perspiring face.

"I figure it at about $150 off list on each car, and you've made me a fair price, Mr. Hudson. I'll take it!"

Richard could hardly believe his ears. Ehlers was wrong, dead wrong, but so what? The deal was merely that much easier to wrap in a package.

"You've made a deal then, Mr. Ehlers. How about meeting me at my lawyers at three this afternoon. O'Keeffe and Cullinan. The Redstone Building. And bring your papers."

"That's pretty fast!" The fat dealer marveled.

"You bet it is!" Richard laughed. "I don't want you to change your mind."

"Don't worry. I'll be there."

They shook hands. Richard returned to his car, drove to the Fig Hotel where he had been staying the past six weeks. He was in exceptionally good spirits, well-pleased with himself. Honest Hal would be happy with the transaction and the low price, and Richard was glad the search was over. Now he could get back to selling used cars.

la his hotel room Richard raised a glass of scotch and tap water to his reflection in the mirror above the chest of drawers.

"To me!" He said happily.

* * *

EXPOSITION

That was the beginning. It is also a flashback and narrative hook. This much about writing I have learned from the movies. Also, I don't want to fool anybody, including myself. Especially myself. I believe now, that I should have remained Richard Hudson, Used Car Dealer, and I should never have become Richard Hudson, Writer-Director-Producer. At least I think I know this, but I do not really know. Thereby this story, or narrative, or notebook, or whatever it turns out to be. Somewhere along the way I may discover the exact point, or the turning point perhaps, or the error, if it was an error that I made, or someone else made, or just exactly what it was that happened to me.

I have the time. God knows I have the time. If it were possible I would put down every thought, every word of conversation, every minute of every day that followed this beginning. But I cannot. Not only is my memory too faulty for total recall, I would soon be bogged down in the insignificant. Instead, I intend to put on paper the sequence of events, some in order, some out of order. I shall include some of the people involved, and somewhere during this journey from backward to forward in time I may find myself. However, I doubt this very much. But in any case it will be an interesting journey. Long or short.