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“We’re nothing alike...I follow Hollywood.  And, it’s nothing like the real world.  It’s a world unto itself.”

“It’s made up of real people…”

“Living in a world that was dreamt up by Hollywood,” said William harshly. “And, they make and break all the rules. I know what goes on there.”

“You do?” Henry scoffed. “I don’t have the time.”

William eased back into the large, soft leather chair, knowing just how to bring an end to Henry’s babbling. “Tell me about that rapist and murderer they set free in Hollywood a few years back...Arbuckle wasn’t it?”

"He was found innocent!” Snapped Henry.

“That’s right,” replied William, realizing that he must have touched upon a very sensitive subject. “I stand corrected. The poor bastard was found innocent on both charges. But, what about all those newspaper articles, and all those society people that rose up against him?”

“It was all heresy,” replied Henry, clearly remembering. “The papers hounded Arbuckle, while the courts tried him. And, when everything was said and done, Arbuckle was proven innocent.”
“Seeing that some say that you’ve done some carousing in your day, the next question might be for someone to ask if you were at that party.”

Henry stared coldly at William, not uttering a word. Then, looking away, he held his thoughts to himself as he might have done years before. His memory was still strong of the event, even though he had tried to forget. But, at that moment, he allowed his mind to drift back to the Labor Day weekend in 1921.

The scene was Arbuckle’s hotel suite, where a weekend Holiday open house celebration was being held; complete with illegal alcohol, women and song.

At first, the party was no different than any other Hollywood gathering of the early twenties. However, the festivities soon went sour. To the dismay of everyo

What is known is that five days after the party, a young woman named Virginia Rappe died in a San Francisco hospital. America wondered if it was rape and murder. The papers said that Arbuckle was guilty, if only for sensational news. From the pulpit and from women’s groups across the country came angry words calling for Arbuckle’s destruction, regardless of any proof that might come forward to disprove the charges.

Ravings of the moral society, while not concerned whether Arbuckle was innocent or not, was convinced of Hollywood’s decadent existence. For years, their only objective was bent on destroying Hollywood. Here was their chance to bring all their energies bearing down to destroy an innocent man in payment for Hollywood’s sins.

Seven days after the party, even before Arbuckle was charged with rape and murder, public opinion rose against him. It was then that in fear of the public rising against them, San Francisco Theater owners banned together against Arbuckle.

By the next day, all of his features had been pulled from the public’s view in San Francisco. Quickly the shock waves caused by their actions were felt across the entire nation. Only New York appeared unafraid of public opinion and refused to stop showing his films, stating that they had no right to stop exhibiting any feature because of an actor’s beliefs or morals.

It all began in a suite, a living room and two bedrooms on the twelve floor of the St. Francis Hotel on Union Square. Miss Rappe, a twenty-three year old actress had passed out in Arbuckle’s room. Arbuckle found the young woman and laid her on one of the beds in the room. Returning to the party, he left the young women in the care of Bambina Maud Delmont who had driven up with her, along with actor’s agent Al Semacher.

Arbuckle stated that he was surprised to find the woman on the floor in his room. Clutching her dress to her stomach, he said that she appeared to be frothing at the mouth.
Miss Delmont, the star witness for the prosecution, had a story that differed from Arbuckle’s. She stated that after hearing screaming coming from Arbuckle’s room, she found the door locked. It took minutes of her pounding on the door before she was allowed into the room. Upon entering the room she found the girl on the bed with her dress clutched in her hands against her bare stomach.

Arbuckle, apparently drunk, left the room shortly thereafter to rejoin the party. Under oath, Arbuckle did state that the room’s door had in fact been locked. He only wanted privacy to change his clothes. Unknown to him, Miss Rappe had collapsed between the two beds in the room. She remained there, unnoticed, until she began to scream.

Arbuckle explained that the reason why did not immediately open the room’s door when Miss Delmont began pounding was because he was more concerned with the woman screaming on the floor. Initially, he was dumfounded to find anyone else in his room. Her screaming combined with Miss Delmont’s sudden pounding on the door to the room led to his panicking.

Lifting the girl up from off the floor, he placed her onto one of the beds. Not able to calm the girl, Arbuckle then moved to open the room’s door. He soon left the young lady in Miss Delmont’s care, with the understanding that she would tend to her friend. Shortly thereafter, returning to the room, Arbuckle was disturbed to find Miss Delmont massaging Virginia’s bare abdomen with ice.

After Virginia Rappe’s death, an autopsy revealed that Peritonitis was the cause of death. Then, it was discovered that she had a ruptured bladder. It also became clear that whether Arbuckle was innocent or guilty, many self-appointed judges wanted him proven the villain. The problem for the prosecution was that every witness called for its behalf, proved to be friendly to the defense. Witness after witness was changing their stand or they were being discredited by other testimonies.

One testimony in particular, Miss Rappe’s own housekeeper stated that Virginia often drank to excess. At times, tearing at her clothes, she would scream wildly as if in pain. Another witness told of Miss Rappe’s pre-movie days, when while a worker in a department store she would without reason start screaming as she began tearing off her clothes.

If this was not enough, a blessing came out of nowhere. Jean Jameson, a nurse, spoke of Miss Rappe confiding in her about an ailment she had. A certain ailment brought on by some unnamed noted Hollywood director that might have been at the party. Initially, the doctors tossed around the idea of syphilis as the cause of the burst bladder that led to Peritonitis. However, in time, the doctors strongly doubted the connection and believed that a fall would have caused the bursting of Miss Rappe’s bladder.

Arbuckle was brought to trial three times. The first two ended in a hung jury. One of them was due to a female juror. Her very own words spoke of the misdirected justice that some held. It seemed that truth and justice were merely words to this woman. “Regardless what evidence is presented,” she said, “I shall never cast my ballot to set him free.”
 

A much bigger blow to the state came on December 18th, 1921. The prosecution’s star witness, Bambina Maud Delmont was convicted of bigamy.

To the dismay of the prosecution and the state, their witness’s testimonies were at best mere conjectures or rumors that had been circulating about the case. No basic proof seemed to exist to prove that Arbuckle was guilty. With each trial, the state’s case became weaker. The testimonies that had appeared to shed some light at the beginning of the trials now were being changed, or the witnesses vanished or were proven to be liars or were simply mistaken in even recalling the circumstances accurately.

Raising his head to stare into William’s eyes, Henry finally broke from the silence that had held him capture the past several years. “Arbuckle was innocent...I know, because I was there...And, the things they raised about Virginia were all true...I knew her personally.”

All along William knew that Henry was somehow connected to the case, but to what extent he had no idea until that moment.

From the onset, Henry had tried to keep his presence there a secret. When questioned by the police to his whereabouts on September 4th through the 5th, Henry briefly stated that he was at a friend’s home. As for his response to the authority’s question of whose home, he successfully managed to dodge the question by saying, “I’d rather not say because of marital problems.”

Henry, sitting back in his chair, was once again at ease. Taking another puff, he soon removed the cigar from his mouth to ask, “Do you know what really catches deep within my gut?”

William didn’t reply. Instead, he waited on Henry’s next words.

"The papers never let up on Arbuckle.” Finding the cigar suddenly to his dislike, he crushed it out in an ashtray on the end table beside him. Slumping back within his chair he appeared exhausted, his strength all but drained due to the bringing back all the horrible memories. “You know, out of all the newspapers in this great land of ours, only the New York Times could print the country’s true feeling toward Arbuckle.”   

"Is that a fact,” remarked William, sadly, as he recalled his own life’s predicament.

“Yes, sir. While Arbuckle was out on temporary bail, one paper told how a mob gathered to stone him at the Los Angeles railroad station. But, it was the New York Times that told the real story...How a large crowd formed to cheer Arbuckle and to hand him flowers.” William didn’t say a word, but lifted his eyebrows in disbelief as he stared over the top of his thick-rimmed glasses.

“The people knew all along that he was innocent.” Said Henry, as he became excited, sitting forward in his chair. “Why...With the conclusion of Arbuckle’s third and final trial, it took the jury just six minutes to find him not guilty and to write an appeal that told everybody to leave Arbuckle alone.”

William could only partly listen, for thoughts of his own trial were racing through his mind. 

Sighing deeply, Henry’s spirit suddenly plummeted. Sinking back into his chair, he went on to sadly say, “One week, that was all the man got before the whole world came crashing down on him again. Somehow, his acquittal didn’t mean a thing. Hays wanted a scapegoat for Hollywood.” He paused for moment, looking up at the tall white ceiling in an attempt to remember, “What was it that Hays said...The purpose of our organization is to attain and to maintain only the highest moral and artistic standards within the movie industry.”

Slowly, William began to come out of his daze. “I think, all along, they knew they had nothing on him. They should have let the poor bastard alone.”

“You know, half of the problems that you and I have are caused by people that won’t leave us alone.”

William laughed, halfheartedly, “You know, you’re right...I had my own Hays commission to contend with. Still, I would never try to lead anyone to believe that I was entirely innocent. I did some wrong, but not what they wanted everybody to believe.”        

"Hundred and eighty thousand in campaign funds wasn’t it?” Henry smirked, somehow knowing that he could poke fun with the governor.

“No, it was a bit closer to a hundred and fifty, besides other things,” said William before smiling weakly. “But, what about yourself...Fill me in on a few things.”

“What is there for me to say? I want to make a movie and I need money.”

“That’s it?”

“Look, there’s no one in Hollywood that I can turn to. The fact is Governor, the word is out that Henry R. Bandridge’s career is over...I drink too much...My third wife just left me, and to top it off get this...I stay out too late.” 

“Then, why not try staying home for a while,” William fired back, half-jokingly. “But, why in heaven’s name, a silent movie. Aren’t most of the studios thinking about changing over to talkies?” 

“Yeah, they’re changing...All, too fast.” 

“Then, why not wait?”

Henry was hard pressed to come up with a reason that William might understand. All that he could offer was, “Maybe...Just maybe for creative expression...Or, to prove some people wrong.” 

“To prove some people wrong is more like it!” Said William, before a second thought crossed his mind. Pausing, he began to go over the information that he had gathered. He already knew that the producers in Hollywood would no longer support Henry’s works, as the man hadn’t had a successful feature in years. He also realized that whatever talent Henry once possessed it had been eroded away by his way of life. What was worse was the fact that with the coming of talking movies the days of silent pictures were at an end. “You know, I learned the hard way that trying to prove certain people wrong can turn into a very expensive proposition. Now, I’ve taken the liberty to go over some of the ways you’ve already spent your money in pre-production. How can you account spending over ten thousand dollars to build a full scale replica of the Alamo?”

“Easy…I needed a fort to film my movie as I really didn’t believe that any self-respecting Texan would allow me to blow up the actual Alamo.”

“The way things are in Texas,” huffed Jamison, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I think Brady would even supply you with all the dynamite you’d need to blow her up.”

“Isn’t the Alamo a landmark?” 

"Hardly...Besides, these days everything can be had for a price,” said Jamison before pausing briefly to stare into Henry eyes. “What’s your interest in the story of the Alamo?” 

“It’s a story that needs to be told...”

Jamison suddenly became incensed and barked out, “A two bit battle that no one cares about!” Calming, he then lamented over what he had just said and sadly added, “Nor, remembers.” 

“I care about it...And, I think you do too.” 

“Then, we’re the only two that do...It says in my report that you plan on using a special creativity...Now, what’s that suppose to mean?” 

“Well, you know those subtitles that all silent movies have? I don’t plan to use any in mine.”

“What do you plan on doing...handing a script to everyone that enters the movie house?” He asked sarcastically. 

“They won’t need any script or words. The action will tell the whole story from start to finish. You and I know that it’s never been what a person says that’s important, but their actions.” 

William, sitting back into his chair, didn’t initially know how to respond. Then, in his best straight face he went on to say, “Small wonder that you’re having problems selling your story idea to backers in Hollywood. Besides the fact that you drink to excess and you stay out too late, you’re also loco.”

Henry smiled, weakly, “Well, what do you say?” 

William, taking a deep breath, knew what he had to say. “I love my Texas... And God knows how I respect those men that died for her...Still, I have a responsibility to the shareholders of my bank.”

“So, no deal,” bristled Henry, as he attempted to keep the ever so slight smile on his face. Getting up from his chair, he reached out his hand to William for a parting handshake.     “Well, it’s been a real pleasure knowing you Governor.” 

“Now, just hold on one minute,” William’s voice boomed. “You wouldn’t be trying to hoodwink me with this deal, now would you?” 

Henry didn’t know how to react as he had been taken by surprise. William, as if changing his views, appeared to be going against his better judgment. “If I were to give you some financing, what would keep you from changing your mind about making this movie and skip town with the money?” 

Henry stood still for a moment unable to respond. The truth was clear, except for his word there wasn’t anything dramatic that he could offer as proof. Finally, he settled on offering the plain truth. “Governor, I’m just here to do a movie. But, if you were to consider backing us, how would you get it past your shareholders?” 

“You let me worry about that,” said William, smiling slyly, as he stared up at Henry. “You just start making your movie.”  

On the outskirts of the state’s capital there was a frequented spot where shadows and whispers were shared. This was a place where no one knew your name and no one would ever dare remember you.

Upstairs, in one of the many rooms, two figures stirred within the thick veil of darkness. The man was just another man. The woman was little more than just a pickup.

This wasn’t the first time that Eleanor had given herself to someone she’d just met. Her whole life had been filled with men she’d known but for an hour, a night, or a week and afterward never saw them again.

She never knew the reason why she gave herself so freely to men; thus, she never saw the reason to stop. The truth was, or it seemed true to her, that the people she actually loved the most never truly cared for her.

For instance, Eleanor had known Bandridge for nearly two months and he hadn’t even touched her. Of course there could have been an easy explanation for his celibacy as there was a widely held notion in Hollywood that Henry had some sort of infliction, or sickness that he would not reveal to her or anyone else.

As she lay there motionless and silent within the bed, revealing no emotion, nor enjoyment, her mind drifted off as she recalled the many men she had known. Sadly, she couldn’t recall even one true love among them. As the Governor’s parting words began to weigh heavily upon her heart, a single tear formed within one of her eyes. As the tear suddenly raced down her turned cheek, she softly whispered his last words, “Maybe, another time...Maybe, another time.”

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