One For the Angels – Dirt Devils on the MGM backlot

A Story that took place 50 years ago-during the making go -KING KONG .

Winchell’s You can call it a demilitarized zone. Studio trespassers, studio police, and city police can all congregate in one simple 24-hour coffee and donut supplier. Everyone is diplomatic when donuts are present. MGM lot 2 lurks in the background.

Not only does CHiPs frequent my local donut shop. These guys cruise my hood. This took place across the street. Badass Hair under those helmets.

Kong- The Robot-is being finalized by Carlo Rambaldi and his Italian Special Effects team…

This is what is going on in MGM just across the way from Winchell’s. King Kong is being brought to life. Although Security is tougher these days, I can’t resist getting a closer look–1976.

Heathens, as they call themselves- have taken over as Private Security on the backlot during “King Kong” This is who is after me today. Kong security is scarier than Kong himself.

No more clean cut gangs like the good ol’ days

It’s here through this gate built for trespassers, by trespassers, I appear.

Sections 31, 33, 42, 41 is where the snare today takes place…

It’s in this set, called the Lord’s Home on the old MGM maps, where events escalate today… I’ve jumped from this window before to allude capture…less than a year ago. Set numbered 31.

I’m headed toward the farthest house you see pictured right- The Lord’s Home. We call it the hunting lodge, it’s also Arthur Curtis’ house in the Twilight Zone.

Just moments after setting foot in the forbidden zone, Dirty Ernie is on my backside using this road (Scene from CHiPS “Phantom Cycle”)

And he’s pissed off!

“Mongo” patrols out front, I’m in the Lord’s Home, praying to the Lord!

Uneven, loose dirt piles are similar to large ant hills, especially, since red ants are all over them. This part of the lot is like the Australian outback. I need a better hiding place!

This building will work as I crawl underneath its foundation. Lewis J. Bookman sold robots on these steps in The Twilight Zone as Mr. Death took notes. Today-Mr Death has returned…

I’m hiding from Mr. Death under this exact stairway. It’s from under here I make my getaway…

Behind this Federal Courthouse on 5th Avenue are piles of dirt containing pieces of ancient wiped-out sets.

This intersection is the buzz as the noose gets tighter. I’m hiding under this building.

Never closes….

Winchell’s Donuts-You can call it a demilitarized zone. Studio trespassers, studio police, and city police can all congregate in one simple 24-hour coffee and donut supplier. Everyone is diplomatic when donuts are present.

We no longer fear Big George -A nickname MGM security uses to tout this most ambitious oversized lynchpin and MGM’s most feared private constable. Two motorcycle madmen nicknamed (Dirty Ernie and Mongo) now patrol Lot 2 and have refocused our anxiety. I will enter behind New York Street, through a gate we made years ago Today, I have 3 donuts I just picked up as an afterschool snack as I take the short walk from the donut shop to the studio.

After latching the nail that keeps this steel gate entry private, I veer off the backroad toward the Arthur Curtis house. As I transition roads, I see two heads locked on me. The terrain is blocking their steel horses as their leathered up shoulders and tied back hair under bandanas spot me. The Heathens unleash themselves as I run inside the front door of the Arthur Curtis house. This house has no backside.

The buzz of engines, throttling from high speed to low speed surround me, I begin to pray, something instilled in me through my Catholic School upbringing-only to be used in extreme emergencies, like I’m in…right now!

I’m screwed, they attempt to trap me inside, one bike patrols the back exit, The other bike slowly drives in front of the doorway I’m inside.

It’s now I realize, I may never eat these 3 donuts. I need an escape route the fence is close but blocked by a motorcycle who has a dangerous looking man on the seat-nervously waiting and hoping I try to exit- Stage Right. That was my first choice to exit this chaotic situation I find myself in. I scan the horizon realizing my only escape is to run to the center of the lot. That is normally not sound reckoning because reinforcements will undoubtedly arrive. Like a pencil without an eraser, I’m kind screwed. They cover both exits-especially focused on the road closest to the fence.

Under the shadow of cranes working on the gigantic Skull Island walls, that section is off limits. The dirt piles across the way may provide the obstacles I need. They can’t ride over them, and on foot, I may have a chance. I just need to get there, so I time Mongo and Dirty Ernie’s back-and-forth movements. These bikes sound like chainsaws as they cut in front and behind me.

I say a quick prayer, a sign of the cross is how I exit -the Lord’s Home. Promising better church attendance if I escape… Amen!

No time like the present…

I say farewell to my uneaten donuts and bolt. As the front door flies open, they see me, and come bearing down, full speed. These chainsaws are going full throttle.

A Creedence Clearwater Moment

Better run through the jungle
Whoa, don’t look back to see

I make it up an embankment and tumble face first into the first of fifty or so dirt piles. It requires crawling or slow running to navigate this area, obstacles and loose dirt create terrible footing. Hopefully, my pursuers will be less familiar and struggle to traverse this terrain.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, it does. These dirt mounds are loaded with huge red army ants. Good thing I abandoned my donuts…

They know I’m in this area; I crawl from ant hill to ant hill many having wood pieces with sharp nails sticking out along with bricks randomly scattered.

I crouch down while running through a section of dried out brush and arrive at the backside of the courthouse. The bikes continue to throttle up and down, like dogs on a hunt. I crawl into the darkness. Not just a lot of cobwebs, decade’s worth. This is a tight squeeze, crawling along with sometimes rolling takes me into a place that is what I expect purgatory must be like.

Now, it’s just a matter of outlasting my opponents. I have unlimited time now to study the foundation that Lewis J. Bookman sold tiny robots on, while Mr. Death took notes- since I’m directly under these steps.

As the sun begins to set, orange rays illuminate my western crawlspace. The groans of the searching two-wheel street bikes diminish, and my lot slowly returns to normal. This escape was – One for the Angels.

A story I lived 50 years ago during the production of King Kong, that much time has passed, yet I still get chills from reminiscing being on that set on that afternoon. August 1976- The working “Machine” arrived on the backlot for its appearance on this film. As Pink Floyd sang in that same year-“Welcome to the Machine.”

Written and Lived by Donnie Norden