Lanterns of Babylon

                                         CHAPTER FIVE-JUDD WAGNER                                                     

                  “The fool says in his heart there is no God…”

        Psalms 14:1

The Pacifica Building-1971. The black man paced frantically on the roof of the old red brick building. Flames were licking over the edge, threatening to consume him within the next minute. He looked panicked as he dropped the bag full of money. Bills of twenties, fifties, and hundreds blew everywhere, littering the roof and the street below.

On the roof were some building supplies. In a long, cardboard box he found fiberglass poles about nine feet in length. He grabbed one of the poles and gripped it tightly. This was his only chance.

Taking one end of the pole, he dashed towards the building’s ledge. Would the pole break, or would it bend enough to vault him over the alley to the other building? It was a twenty-foot gap and a fifteen-story drop.

When the pole caught on the concrete ledge, the man flew into the air just as the burning building exploded. Bricks and glass shot out after him as he let go of the pole. He landed roughly on the roof of the other building and rolled to lessen the impact. He lay there for a moment until he heard the command from the bullhorn.

“Cut!” yelled the director.

Everyone in the helicopter who had witnessed the stunt applauded. The man on the roof got up and took a long, theatrical bow as the special effects crew put the fire out of the “burning” building.

When he got back to street level, Judd Wagner waved at the applause of the crew. Solomon Branch, the stunt coordinator walked up to him and shook his hand. “Great Judd, just great.  Lyle is very pleased.” 

Lyle Cox was the producer. He stepped off the copter and trotted up to the two men. “Judd…unbelievable. You are the King.”

A lighting man walked up to Judd and patted him on the shoulder. “Great stunt,” he said.

“Gag,” smiled Judd. “Stunts are called gags.”

“Yeah, it was a great gag too.”

“Thanks Mr. Cox, but Solomon here designed the gag.” 

Solomon waved him off. “Yeah, but my old knees are like wet, soggy crackers.”

“How are you feeling Judd?” Cox asked. “It looked like you landed pretty hard.”

 Judd tapped his well-padded chest piece. “I sewed in some extra padding. My shoulder took most of it, but that’s where I had my most protection.” Then Judd held up his hand, revealing a compound fracture on his index finger. “I kind of broke my finger though.” Cox blanched at the hideous sight. 

Solomon took Judd’s injured hand gently. “That doesn’t hurt?”

“Only where the bone is sticking out,” Judd Wagner replied.

“You must be in shock.”

“No man. I’m tough,” bragged Judd.

As Solomon pulled Judd towards the honey wagon, he spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Send Doc Wilson to the honey wagon. Judd’s got a busted finger.”

The director who had stayed in the helicopter with the cinematographer leaped out and headed towards Judd and Solomon.

“Great work guys, I…” he saw the blood and bone coming out of Judd’s finger and like the producer, turned white.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve alerted the doc,” said Solomon. 

Cox followed them towards the honey wagon. “If the doc sends you to the hospital, I’m putting you up in a private room.”

 Solomon turned to him. “We’ll probably go to the emergency room. I know everybody there on the staff personally.”

When they got to the honey wagon, Doc Wilson was waiting for them.

“I keep patching you guys up and you keep busting bones.”

“You don’t want our business?” joked Solomon.

“I would just like to get through one picture, dying of boredom.” Doc took Judd’s hand and gingerly felt the finger.

“Ow! Now that hurts!” cried Judd.

“You’re a tough bird, Judd. Did you do it without a net?” Solomon nodded to the two buildings that were a block away. A net had been strung between the buildings near the top floors. If Judd had fallen, he would have dropped ten feet into the net. It was painted the same shade as the asphalt in the alley so it wouldn’t show up in the shot.

“We always use the net, Doc. We’re stuntmen, not dare devils.”

“Sometimes, I can’t tell the difference,” said Doc. 

Jimmy, the prop man walked up to Judd and put a hand on his shoulder. “You are the best black stuntman in the business.” 

Judd’s handsome features lit up. “And you are the best white prop man in the business.” Jimmy blushed. Judd saw his opening for another shot. “And now you’re the best “red” prop man in the business.”  Jimmy’s blush deepened.

“I meant…I think you’re the best. Black or white.” 

Doc gestured towards the waiting van. “As the best part-Welsh, part-Lithuanian doctor in the business, I’d prefer to get you over to the hospital before I do much to you.”

“Lead the way, Doc,” said Judd.

The stunt business had changed since 1962. At least it had changed for the minority stuntmen. More black actors were getting parts, which meant more work for guys like Judd. Back in ’62, Judd was in his third and last year with the Los Angeles Rams. He was a serviceable running back who had respectable rushing yards, but nothing spectacular. At six feet and a hundred and ninety-five pounds, his physic was perfect. His body fat was next to zero.  He had speed and coordination, but then so did all of the other backs in the NFL. Judd had football talent, but he knew he would never win Most Valuable Player or go to the Hall of Fame.

In his years with the Rams, he met several movie stars. Because of his good looks, they encouraged him to pursue an acting career.

“I think Sidney Poitier has all the black man roles sewn up,” was Judd’s stock reply.

It was true. After you got past Poitier, Sammy Davis Jr. and Woody Strode, the pickings were slim.

Growing up in Mississippi during the war gave Judd plenty of opportunity to experience the prejudices and hatred towards people of his color. A cousin of his had been lynched one Halloween in the late 1940’s. Judd’s father, a poor sharecropper, suffered the indignity of being sent to the back of the line at the feed store until the whites were served.

It could have made Judd bitter. But Judd was a fighter. He believed in himself and he was determined to have a better life. He was determined that society would not dictate where his place was supposed to be. In 1954, Rosa Parks showed him that a correct civil disobedience could go a long way.  Nine years later, Dr. King inspired him to search within himself…to depend on himself and not others to make the changes that were needed.

In 1966, another cousin joined The Black Panthers. When he tried to get Judd to join, Judd told him, “No thanks. I don’t need a group. I’m my own leader.”

During the 1960’s, there was a black film community, but it was invisible. Judd made a few films for Billy Hawkins, a pioneer in Negro cinema since the 1930’s. Like Poitier, Judd had the looks, but unlike Poitier, he didn’t have the talent. His line delivery was wooden. Hawkins chalked it up to inexperience, but by the time they were filming “Slum Jungle”, it was evident that Judd’s talents lay elsewhere.

One day after a particularly trying scene, Hawkins took Judd aside.

“Hey man, the camera really loves your looks, but your acting just isn’t taking.” 

Judd lowered his head. “I know Hawk. I’ve been watching the rushes. I only have one emotion…” Judd held out his arms and gave him a bright, friendly smile. “…Happiness and optimism.” 

Hawkins gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, but unfortunately, you’re playing a dope addict suffering withdrawals. You look like you’ve got a minor stomach ache.” 

Judd’s smile faded. “You’ve been good to me, Hawk. I know I’ve had more than one chance. And I think I could get this acting thing down. Maybe there’s some place where I could take an acting class.”

 Hawkins shook his head. “Maybe, but I need an actor now.”

“I understand,” Judd replied solemnly.

“Don’t get down on yourself, man. I might have something for you.” Hawkins called over to his assistant. “Maudie, get me Howell Green’s number.”

“Howell Green?” Judd’s eyes lit up. “I know that name. He’s an agent. A big agent.”

 Hawk shook his head. “No. Howell Green is a stuntman. He’s been a stand-in for Paul Robeson and Woody Strode. You’re an athletic young man. Howell’s getting pretty old and he could use a protégé.”

The Stuntman’s Association was a pretty tight group. Just like cinematographers, art directors, and the other guilds, one practically had to be born into the profession. Even whites had trouble breaking the show biz career barrier. With the odds against him, Judd started training with Howell Green. It was three long years before Judd got his break.

January 1964. The New Year’s party had long ended. The sparse apartment was adorned with whiskey bottles, confetti and a sign reading “Happy 1964” was drooping over the threadbare sofa. Judd lay on the bed in the next room and moaned as the hangover began to throb through his numb body.

The ringing of the phone sounded like a fire bell as it crackled through his brain. He reached over the sleeping girl and felt for the screaming instrument.

“Hello?” he answered sleepily.

“Judd, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” came the voice on the other end.

“I’ve been partying. I thought they unplugged the phone last night.” Judd’s mind was a raging roller coaster. No one had unplugged it. No one cared to answer it during the wild evening of the night before. Then it dawned on him. 

“Who is this?” he asked.

“It’s Howie. You sound wasted.”

“No, just hung over.”

“That’s what I meant. Listen man, I got you a gig.”

“What?”

“A gig. A big one. You are going to be on the stunt team for “Titus”.”  Judd’s head was spinning. Some of it was the liquor, but this news was sobering him up.

“”Titus”? For real? I’m doing some gags for “Titus”?”

“Titus” was a gladiator film to end all gladiator films. It was twice the budget of “Spartacus” and had an all star cast. Eighty-five percent of the film was to be shot in Rome. Best of all, there were several key roles to be played by black actors and in such an action packed film, black stuntmen were at a premium.

“Get going, Judd. The studio has you on the one ‘o clock flight to Rome.”

Brock Peters, Ossie Davis and a young actor named James Earl Jones had prominent parts in “Titus” with Yul Brynner playing the title role. Judd was part of an experienced team of stuntmen led by the jovial Solomon Branch. Judd, a virtual rookie, impressed Solomon with his muscular physique and quick moves during the gladiator sequence.

The best impression was made halfway through the film when Solomon approached Judd with a very dangerous stunt. After a long day of filming, Solomon found him in his hotel room.

“How’re ya doing Wagner?”

“I’m fine Sol. I love Rome.”

 Solomon walked over to the picture window that looked out over the blinking neon lights and fountains. “It’s a beautiful city. I was here in ’58, working on “Ben Hur”.”

“That must have been an experience. Did you meet Charleton Heston?”

“Sure.”

The usual jocular Solomon was being serious. What was on his mind? 

Judd gestured towards the chair by his desk. “Have a seat, Sol.” Solomon sat down and remained silent. “Can I ring for a drink?” offered Judd.

“Oh, uh, no thanks…listen Judd…I’ll lay it on the line. Willie broke his leg tonight.” Willie Markham was James Earl Jones’ stunt double.

“Oh no, what happened?

 Solomon’s face was a mixture of helplessness and disgust. “The fool was trying to impress that little Italian firebrand he’s been seeing. He took a walk out on the 3^rd floor ledge.” 

Judd couldn’t believe it. “He fell? Willie fell?”

“It was thirty five feet to the pavement, but he was lucky. The canopy at the entrance broke his fall.” 

Judd took a seat on the edge of his bed. “He’s the luckiest, unlucky guy I ever saw.”

 Solomon waved him off. “The thing is, we’re shooting James Earl Jones in the arena tomorrow.  Willie was supposed to fight the lion.” 

Then it dawned on Judd. “You want me to fight the lion.”

 Solomon took a deep breath. “The lion is well trained and the handlers will be just off camera to maintain control. The gag pays eight hundred dollars.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You’re inexperienced, but you’re a good physical match for Jones. Steve or Harris could do it, but Steve is as small as a horse jockey and Harris is as big as a horse. It would be obvious that it wasn’t Jones. I like your skills. You take direction well, Judd, but despite the trainer’s presence, you’re still dealing with a wild animal. Even if the lion liked you, one playful swipe could take an eye out, or an arm off…or it could just plain kill you.” Judd mulled this over. Solomon continued. “I can’t make you do it Judd. But if you do, it will save the company about fifty thousand dollars.” 

Judd smiled. “Maybe I should ask for fifty thousand to do the job.”

“If it were up to me, that’s what I’d pay you. Unfortunately, I need to get your answer now. They’re waiting to see if they need to shoot something else tomorrow.”

Judd clasped his hands together. In the cold, air conditioned room, he was suddenly sweating. Solomon leaned forward in the chair. “Listen kid. I’ve wrestled bears and cougars. I even fought a gorilla once in a Tarzan picture. Dealing with animals, I’ve had my arm broken twice, my right knee sprained and my nose broken three times. And that’s lucky.” Solomon let that sink in before he spoke once more. “With animals, you don’t have a lot of control. I’d rather jump out of a plane, drive a car down an embankment into a wall, or dash through a burning building. I just want to lay this all out for you so you can make an informed decision.” 

Judd nodded. “I appreciate that Sol. I truly do.” Judd unclasped his hands and gave a sharp clap. “Okay, I’m in. Let’s do it.”

Solomon’s face relaxed with relief. “Thanks kid. I won’t forget this.”

“Better not. I plan to be around for a long time.”

 Solomon stood up and shook his hand. “Get some sleep. You have a five a.m. call.”

When Judd got to the set, Remy, the wrangler and Norton C. the trainer, took him over to meet Hercules. The lion was in his cage, gnawing on a leg of lamb.

“He’s eating now, but in an hour we’ll go through some simple gags. Hercules growls on cue, slashes out with either paw, stands on your shoulders and wrestles.”

 Judd eyed the beast. “Do you tranquilize him?” 

Norton C. shook his head. “The vet put some stuff in his food, but it’s rather mild. Hercules needs to be alert to follow instructions. We did give him a big breakfast so your arm won’t look too tempting.” Judd’s eyes grew wide.  Remy and Norton C. shared a smile.

 Remy slapped Judd on the shoulder. “Don’t worry Judd, I’ve got two of the best rope men in the business. Norton here will notice if there’s anything wrong and he’ll signal a stop if needed.”

“Ropes? Can’t you shoot him with a tranquilizer?” Judd asked.

Remy shook his head. “If we put Hercules out, we’ll lose shooting time waiting for him to recover.” Judd hoped that the ropers would have good reflexes.

It took two days to get the choreographed fight on film. Judd made friends with Hercules and even fed him some meat at the end of the second day. They brought James Earl Jones in for close ups with a fake lion, and the producer gave Judd a bonus check for his fine work.

“You did good, son. I’ll have Solomon give you a call when I make “The 154^th”. It’s a Civil War picture.”

Judd thanked the producer and headed back to the hotel. His reputation was gold.

1971 saw a plethora of what would later be called “Blaxploitation Films”. They featured blacks in super detective modes. They were not taken seriously, but “Shaft” and “Super Fly” proved to be box office hits. Judd was getting more work than he needed. By 1974, the genre was disappearing, but he got work on a movie called “Ebony Blues”. It was about a cool private eye, part Philip Marlowe, part Shaft. The money was good and his reputation as a top-notch stuntman was rocketing. “Ebony Blues” had the makings of a mega-hit.

It was during a pivotal scene on the sound stage when he saw the beautiful woman standing by the assistant director.

Judd was having his head dunked in a vat of water by the star. On this particular day, he was doubling for Ron Harper who was playing the villain. As his head came out of the water, he could see the young woman whispering to the A.D. She was watching him intently.

“Cut!” yelled the director. “That’s a print. Good work guys.”

The director went over to talk to the star as the crew quickly moved to the next set up. The makeup lady handed Judd a towel. The woman was now standing by herself, near the camera.  Judd walked up to her.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, referring to the scene just shot. She casually looked him over. Her eyes were like almonds; her coffee-shaded skin gave him visions of Cleopatra. Her afro-styled hair had a bright tint of red highlights.

“I enjoyed watching Neil push your head under water.”

 Judd rubbed his head vigorously with the towel. “What do you have against a poor working man?”

“You play the villain don’t you?”

“No. Ron Harper plays the villain. I only play the villain when he gets shot and falls down a flight of stairs or has his head dunked into a vat of water.”

Without asking, the young woman took the towel and swabbed his face. “That didn’t look like a dangerous stunt. Why didn’t they let Mr. Harper do it?”

“The director doesn’t want Ron’s make up to get messed up. Besides, I can hold my breath longer than Ron can. When you want it done right, you call a stuntman.” 

She pursed her lips, which he found very attractive. “Have you ever jumped out of a flaming car before it ran off a cliff?” she asked.

“A couple of times. In all modesty, with as much humility as I can humbly tell you…I am the best in Hollywood.” 

She laughed. “So, Stuntman, are you afraid of a flaming cup of coffee at the commissary?”

“If the commissary’s coffee is hot, that would be a stunt.”

 She took his arm. “Then let’s go.”

The commissary was loud and packed with an assortment of actors in various costumes. Judd led her to a long table full of cowboys.

“John Wayne is shooting today,” said Judd as he held a chair for her.

“Have you ever worked with him?” she asked.

“No. I did a spaghetti with Eastwood. There’s not a huge call for black cowboys.” Judd waved at one of the young men who wore a black Stetson. “Hey man, you look good in that hat. It looks natural.” The actor smiled and gave him a thumb’s up. Judd set the tray of coffee and donuts down. He nodded towards the actor. “I can’t remember his name, but he’s trying to get in the stuntman’s union. He’s got some talent.” Judd’s face screwed up in concentration as he tried to think of the cowboy’s name. “Jerry somebody…I think.”

“Are you a coordinator?”

 He shook his head. “I don’t want the responsibility. I’m sort of the lone wolf type.”

“As long as you’re not a wolf.”

“How do you know that I’m not.” 

Her eyes sparkled. “Because I’m a great judge of people.”

“Is that what you do for a living?”

 She took his hand and turned it palm up. “Yes, I’m a psychic. I can tell your deepest desires.  I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking right now?”

 She shut her eyes, squinting in the direction of his face. “I see a deep question in our future.” She opened one eye. “Are you an Aries?” She shut the eye. “No, you’re a Leo. You are definitely a Leo.”

“Actually I’m a Judd. You’re not real good at guessing names.” 

She opened those beautiful, almond shaped eyes. “And your deep question is…you want to know my name.” 

Judd slapped his head and kicked back in his chair. “You are good.”

 She gave him a light slap on the knee. “Don’t be sarcastic.”

“No, really! That’s exactly what I was thinking. What’s your name?”

“Goldie. Goldie Hamon.”

“So Goldie, what do you do?”

“I’m a production assistant’s assistant.”

 He nodded. “Right. Glorified gopher. Very good.”

“I’m working with Leah Greenburg.” Leah Greenburg was one of the few female film directors in the business.

“So do you hope to be a director some day?” he asked.

 Her glowing face turned serious. “To be honest, I don’t know what I want to do. I just graduated from film school. I’d like to write, or maybe get into casting.”

“You’re pretty enough to be an actress.”

 She shook her head. “No talent and I’m camera shy.”

“That sounds just like me.”

“Oh, you’re shy alright.”

“No, I’m a bad actor,” he said. 

The seriousness returned to her face. “My father wants me to join the family business.”

“Uh oh, now I’m psychic,” said Judd. “I can see it clearly. Goldie, the Black Mafia Princess, starring in “The Goddaughter.” She gave him another slap on the knee. He was beginning to enjoy this.

“No silly. Dad has no Mafia connections.”

“So what’s the family business?”

“He’s a producer.”

“A movie producer? Is your daddy white? Because I don’t see any other colors producing movies. What’s his name?”

“Bretherd Hamon.” The name meant nothing to Judd.

 He shrugged. “Never heard of him. What has he produced?”

“Have you ever heard of “Road to Damascus”?” He shook his head. “How about “One Day at Calvary?” He shook his head again. “The Greatest Fisherman?”

 Judd looked like a lost child in an amusement park. “Nope. Never heard of those films.” 

As Goldie spoke, there was an edge of pride in her voice. “Those are all very popular films. They’ve played across the country.” Judd took his cup of coffee and looked into the black liquid.

“I must have missed them at the local theatre.”

 Goldie laughed. “They’re not major motion pictures. They’re evangelical films.”

“Evang…what?”

“Religious films. They’ve played in thousands of churches across the country…both black and white churches.”

Judd took a sip of his cold coffee. Religious films. He never thought about that. He’d seen “The Ten Commandments” and “King of Kings”, but those types of films were few and far between. And the trend in Hollywood was moving away from such movies.

“I suppose there’s money in it,” he said.

“Of course. But more important, they bring the message of Jesus to many people.”  Judd was treading unfamiliar waters. His parents had been Baptists. He dutifully went to church, but as soon as he went to college, he dropped God out of his life.

Judd really liked Goldie. He felt comfortable with her. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized that this Christian young woman had actually picked him up! And while they were obviously attracted to each other, where could their relationship go? He could accept her Christianity, but how would she react when he told her that he was an atheist?