Author: Phantom of the Backlot

My friends and I can’t get enough of these studio backlots. We go back and forth, across town to Desilu, or just around the corner to MGM. It is like we live here. It has become a purely addicting lifestyle, especially to me.

An office, with a phone along with two forts, is how we stand at the moment, and more expansion will be taking place soon. Jimmy and I are scouting for more prime real estate. We would like a penthouse in Manhattan, and MGM can provide this with its five story high New York skyline that appears to go on forever.

Night time has arrived as we sit in the Boystown fort.

Jimmy and I shoot the shit, back and forth. We hear the sound of the Bronco’s engine close by. Both of us man our peep holes that we cut into the wall, like a machine gun turret, so we can look out safely, yet not be seen.

Surprisingly, the Bronco parks directly under this overhang we are peering down from.  Just as we try to figure out who is inside and in charge of the jeep tonight, a search light is activated. It is mounted on the driver’s side of the Bronco. Its powerful beam sends us diving onto the floor.

Light shines brightly through the planks of wood that we lay upon. “Oh shit,” we both murmur. We contort sideways to give less visibility, as certain body parts become illuminated from the light beaming through the floor boards. It’s like a sci-fi movie and the mothership has arrived.

We think to ourselves the same thought, does he know we’re up here and… who is this?

We are stuck on the floor in the peculiar way and shape, a bit degrading, considering this is our sanctuary. We can barely move as I look at Jimmy’s abstractly lit face laying next to mine. we are a jumbled mess of flesh.

After what seems like an eternity, the Bronco finally pulls away. Alarmingly, the Bronco has turned off all its lights and is stealthy, as it heads over to the colonial mansion across the way. We dust ourselves off as we watch from a perch on top of Boystown.

The red brake lights briefly flash as the Bronco stops in front of the mansion. This building has eight windows, four on the first floor, and four on the second floor, evenly spaced. The front door on the brick porch is ajar.

Suddenly, the searchlight reactivates, and its beam is focused directly inside the front door of this famous set. One by one, each window gets a beam directed upon it.

Who is this guy... we become flabbergasted!

He is taking his job way too seriously…

We decide that we have had enough fun. We work our way out of this fortress and run across the open terrain. We figure this was just an abnormality… a bored guard, is all.  We slowly walk home after jumping the fence, still kidding and joking.

No big deal, this is what we do. Adrenaline rules…

We are just the next block away from our homes on Huron, passing Charles avenue. As we joke, we hear what sounds like the Bronco, behind us. We both hear it at the same time and turn to each other and joke, “sounds like the Bronco.”

We peek behind us, just ’cause … and at the exact same time, we are shocked. It is the Bronco. It is on the public street, just behind my home. That damn close…

We dive behind parked cars, I guess out of habit. We are not committing any crimes at the moment. We watch as the Bronco turns right on Charles avenue, with its lights on this time, as it comes to a stop on this dead end street. We run behind parked cars, only our heads protrude above. It is like we are still in MGM.

This same Bronco that we just dealt with on the backlot is now in my neigborhood! It is mind boggling… this hated vehicle is hunting us down, wherever we go, it seems.

Just like that evil diesel in the Spielberg movie, Duel.

The Bronco stops in front of one of the houses that we pass by every day, and a very large occupant exits the vehicle in his black uniform and heads inside the house. He is as big as a Sasquatch.

Wow, this is way too much to process…Who is this guy?

Truly, we need to follow up on this… and we do.

Well, just like when Pat was shot at, we get our answers at the studio’s west gate the following day.

Les Green is on duty. Not our favorite guy, but he will do. He fills us in with his slow drawl…’The studio wants you…John,” as he stares menacingly at me.

“And your blond friend,” he continues.

“They hired a guy specifically to capture you…” he drags his words, while tapping his pencil on the table in his shack. The tension builds.

“His name is George. I’d look out if I were you”

“He’ll get all the tools needed to completely secure the backlot from trespassers, including a second officer as needed.” he continues on like a school book. “Captain Jolly says he wants the Culver Police involved also!” …”The jigs up John, be careful is all I’ve got to say!”

“That’s what my mom says!”…I quiver.

I take a deep gulp… I think to myself, these fools still go by the alias “John,” that I gave them long ago. But I have the big guy’s first name and address.

Score: John 2 – George 0.

“I’d stay out of there if I were you,” he says, as he points to the backlot across the street.

“Okay, I will,” I say, as we pedal away, shocked…

“First of all,” I tell Jimmy, as we ride alongside the backlot, “I won’t stay out… and second, I am flattered that the studio needs a specialist.”

It is time to gather some dirt on this large guy named George.

All stories written and lived by Donnie Norden
Edited by DQ

I love summertime. No school… no rules… lots of fun. I have had a prosperous couple of weeks constructing forts.

Although it is vacation time for kids, the backlot at Desilu is a working property, with employees clearing brush and taking measurements, in preparation for something big, it appears.

Trucks take men and materials back and forth from the main lot, which has the big stages, to the rustic old backlot. This operation is developing exactly where Stalag 13 recently stood. Also standing above the main lot, looking down, is the iconic Desilu water tower. The name DESILU still sits etched on its side.

My neighborhood pals, Jimmy, Danny, and Gerald, all want to visit these forts that have sprung up, practically overnight. Much the same way the production company across the way showed up, appearing overnight. We fit in perfectly and our timing is impeccable. Opportunities and resources exist like never before… at our finger tips.

The main gate on Ince is open when work takes place on the backlot. A lone ranger sits in a shack that is very similiar to the forts I have been working on. And… we both have phones.

We begin by climbing into Fort Cantina, a simple but slightly crude design stares back at my three guests. This is the lesser of my three studio offices. It is an improvement over what existed before, which was a dirty, filthy space. Color and comforts now replace emptiness. It is like a hippie pad.

Billy Jack  is written in chalk everywhere on this lot… everywhere inside these buidings. I think to myself  “hmmm… I need to see that movie. It must have been filmed here.” It wasn’t, on the backlot, anyway. And it kinda stinks also, so I don’t understand why it is written everywhere here.

Well, being as my friends today have already seen the Boystown job that Maureen and I did on the 4th, I can see that they are unimpressed by this paltry effort. It’s like moving from Malibu to the projects. The guys I am with today, are older by a couple of years and they all go to public school. They seem harder to please, anyway… as if they were too good or stupid or something!

Okay, one fort down, one to go, I think to myself…  while still trying to impress my older friends.

We head towards a doorway in Mexico and pop out through a doorway in Texas. We approach the saloon. Ohh, the magic of Hollywood.

All these public school guys have been up here prior to the Catholic school boy remodel, done a couple of days ago. I am a bit worried that this fort may have been discovered, due to the phone cord leading up to it. Barry, as it turns out, did an extremely professional installation. He cleverly ran the wires roof top to roof top, making it difficult to trace, with out extensive climbing across rickety rooftops.

I push open the swinging saloon doors, as my older friends follow. We move props out of the way, that we purposely stacked to block the stairway, when we left last time. That signals to me that all is good upstairs. Step by step, we reach a working saloon, which is now located on the second floor. Careful not to stumble…

Like prohibition days… drinking activities, and yes… phone calls, take place now, upstairs, hidden out of view. You can never be to careful, after all. Elliott Ness has passed through this town before, enforcing drinking ordinances, by the barrel of a Tommy Gun.

My pals quickly size up the possibities this fort has to offer. We know it’s easy to escape, just jump. It has casting couches… actually, cots — even better.

Across the way, is a barn fully loaded with hay—stacked high and all over the floor. And it also looks like someone made a hay-bed. This can be used for auditions. Large hay stacks surround the front of this old barn, while some old farm tools and lanterns hang inside.

Dolly, the white horse, lived in this barn and the nearby farmhouse, in a color episode of Andy Griffith. Ronnie Howard would visit Dolly at this barn.

Bob Crane has a kissing scene in an episode, on this exact hay pile with Claudine Longet, in Hogan’s Heroes. It was filmed inside this barn. She is so pretty, and French, too… ooh la la. Bob seems to really like kissing scenes… in every episode, he is hanging a big wet one on some guest starlett… just sayin!

This barn will fit our needs perfectly, like a stage, but full of hay!

My associates and I talked, prior to inspection of this location, about possibly producing, and filming, our own films. Now is our chance.

Hole in the Wall Productions is officially open for business. We nod and smile accordingly. That puts us currently on the hunt for talent, and movie equipment. Scripts will be simple, we will only produce action movies. To start with, we need a movie camera and a plot.

“We would be foolish not to”, I continue on, “we have a bonafide office with a direct studio line that the studio pays for, and a backlot facility, loaded with sets and laden with movie props.”

If anything goes wrong, we just run. We can relocate our assets, later!

We are… The Real Deal.

I finish pumping out my presentation, and as fast as I spit it out, it gets full approval. Proudly, the board of older kids agree to work for me in my film company. The phone line seals the deal, I’m sure. 

This will be our World Headquarters, upstairs, in a tiny saloon, located in the heart of this iconic backlot ghost town. 

To close the deal and celebrate, I order a pizza from Chris’s Pizza. It is the priority number on this metal cased phone, with enlarged letters and numbers written in felt. 

We spin the rotary phone and dial Chris… “yes we deliver.”

“Okay, we will take a large Pepperoni with four ice cold Cokes delivered to the Western Street saloon, located on the Desilu backlot on Ince Blvd.” I wait for a response…
“That’s one large pepperoni pizza and four cokes… Desilu western street saloon… 25 minutes!”

“Thank you we will be waiting.”

Eating has never been this easy! 25 minutes later, turning into our street, comes a white VW bug with its distinctive sound, kicking up a trail of dust. We walk outside as the delivery guy rolls to a stop, where horses normally get tied up, next to a drinking trough.

We exchange money for pizza and Coke as I exclaim proudly to the foreign Italian delivery guy, “remember this location… our show will be here for quite a while.” 

He looks around, impressed, as I slip a dollar tip into his hand and wave farewell, “’till next time!”

The little VW drives away towards the exit, as I think to myself I have no show… but, I do have an office with a phone, so let’s get to work.

A short photo gallery, pertaining to the previous three stories begins now…

The photo above is of the Cantina fort viewed from Baldwin Hills.

Below, the arrow on the left points to the saloon on the corner, while the arrow on the right points to the Cantina location.

All stories written and lived by Donnie Norden…
Edited by DQ

From the book– Hole in the Fence...

In a Mosque- Bazaar Middle Eastern Type setting…We Begin:

Upon basic completion of the cantina fort, we start to scavenge around. We look for more movie stuff. We walk and joke as we pass through a doorway in our cantina village. Doors on backlots often open up to different countries and eras. From Turkey– we step into the old west. A hanging tree greets us with a noose that is …Blowing in the wind.

I recently watched a late-night rerun. It was called Alcatraz Express. The show starred Neville Brand as Al Capone and Robert Stack as Elliott Ness. This show is the Desilu version of Combat. Machine gun fire extends well beyond the backlots. Residents are use this racket. Culver City has more machine gun fire going on than 1930’s Chicago. Instead of a Chicago backdrop, which this lot has, this script needed a small California town called- Cloverdale.

This not so quiet little town has a legendary saloon right in its heart. I spin this story to my pals. They drink it up, just like a smooth bottle of whiskey aged in a wood barrel.

Throw open couple of swinging doors…we appear!

This saloon is stacked to the to the brim with props. Many cots from Hogan’s Heroes ended up being stored inside here.

Tall stools surround the dusty old bar. Nice stools for drinkin’ I suppose. We squeeze in between large wooden whiskey barrels, which are stacked high, on top of each other.

Well, this is a Bonanza, fittingly enough. Bonanza filmed multiple episodes on this tiny street… including inside my saloon. A fort building Bonanza presents itself. We decide… rather than bring stuff to the Cantina fort we just built, let’s just build another fort upstairs in this saloon.

This saloon has been policed by everybody from Elliott Ness to the Caped Crusaders…

We lift these old rope cots one by one. We carry them upstairs where we have spacious quarters. This is unlike the towering mess of props below. These cots are fit for P.O.W’S and that’s appropriate, considering they were removed from Stalag 13, which use to be, just around the corner. The obstacles inside this saloon partially block the stairway. This is beneficial because the only potential problem is that this second story is easily accessible by this stairway.

Not something you want in this business of fort construction. We get four cots upstairs. We also have a couple of large whiskey barrels to be used as tables. These are surrounded by four drinking stools. Though easily accessible, it is just as easy to escape. A balcony is adjacent to this set up we created. It is an easy jump from here to your waiting horse below, or the dirt… whatever comes first.

“Let’s go look for some finishing touches” we all agree. We head over to the site where Stalag 13 stood until recently. Inside a portable metal trailer, used as a construction office, we find a rolling phone. The movie, The Fortune is going to film here. It stars Warren Beatty and Jack Nicholson. A large southwestern village is being constructed, replacing Stalag 13.

More like a muscle car than a phone. It sits mounted inside a metal box, on a tripod with wheels. We follow the cord and unplug it. It’s a Saturday, no work is taking place except for a napping security guard. Snooze you lose, your phone anyways. This is like a Hogan’s Heroes mission. Kinch and Newkirk have been replaced by Barry and Jerry. Barry Sullivan is two years older than the rest of us. Jerry is my age as is Pat, all St. Augustine School students. Barry realizes that all you have to do is dial 9 to call off lot. This rolling phone is on the move, from construction-to production!

Scribbled all over the silver metal housing is the various phone numbers for different departments on the main studio lot. Also the number for a local pizza place, called Chris’s Pizza, which is across from St. Augustine, and I eat there often. The owner is very nice. The best pepperoni pizza around and they are hidden under layers of greasy cheese. I did not realize they deliver.

We take this phone and roll it to the saloon, a block away. Barry disconnects a couple of wire nuts… He tells us these wires are called tip and ring. He begins trying to buy the needed slack. This way, we can rehook this phone up in our fort.

Pat and I bring it upstairs while Barry and Jerry work on the wiring reroute. We hear some banging around and look down as Barry throws up an excess coil of the needed wire connection. Retwist the wire nuts, lift the handle off the cradle …voila… we have a phone capable of calling long distance.

I test it by calling my house and after several rings, my dear old mom picks up the other end. “Mom it’s me,” I proclaim. “Are you in trouble?” she replies.  I say, “no, no, I’m testing a phone in a saloon, in Desilu.”

“You should call your father then… he’s probably in a saloon, too.” We laugh. Our first call is a success. We all take turns, as we can’t spin this rotary dial fast enough.

This is more than a fort, it’s an office…

Why not start a production company, we decide?

Hole in the Wall productions, we will call ourselves. 

In just a few days, I now have offices in both MGM and Desilu. Success ! Now we need to make a film. We got the sets needed for a western film. We begin preproduction gathered around a bar…like Desi Arnaz would do.

Well, I proudly proclaim to my posse, “Here’s to a job well done! Whiskey- all around. Only hang on to your hats and be ready to ride. That’s in case that pack of guard dogs picks up our 80-proof scent.”

To our amusement, Pat has taken on the duty of manning the phones; Hello Sarah? This is Andy, can you put me through to Aunt Bee… Sarah, this is Barney, can you patch me through to Juanita… Hello, who is it? Who? Dave? Dave’s not here… Wait! It’s the Batphone! Hello, Commissioner Gordon? wait Batgirl? I told you not to call me at the office!… Hello, Sister Sheila? You say your ruler is missing? I’m sure Donnie knows nothing about that…nothing like Catholic school boy humor!

This is the last western street left in Culver City now that MGM Lot 3 no longer exists. So much TV has filmed here we can’t watch reruns fast enough. Batman has had his hands full on this dusty street. Somehow, he keeps his wits about him. He rustled a herd of cattle. He fought off both Shame and False Face. He also shared a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a little boy in this very saloon…all in a day’s work. My Hero!

I’d like to buy him a drink, but I’m not old enough. I do have a saloon and some whiskey barrels. There is a place to sit or lay down. I also have a phone to call for a taxi or a pizza from Chris’s, no less. My life is really coming together…

Crime never sleeps around here…

Right behind the motel at the end of this street is Klinks office -Stalag 13.

The drinking never stops because we never close…

The Cartwrights even stopped in for a drink on the way to The Ponderosa

This door is the back entrance to the saloon, False Face is in a bit of trouble here…

Written and lived by…Donnie Norden

My recently constructed fort at MGM has set off a fort building frenzy. Everybody wants a piece of the action. Catholic school kids and public school kids all unite under one flag. Forts in movie backlots are the new trending thing. Like having your own production office. I could set up shop and sell tickets for this…call it The Boystown Experience.

Like an E-ticket at Disneyland, they have Tom Sawyer, we have Tarzan!

I barter with semi-friends with an eye on things I could use from them in return for being my friend. I won’t disclose my fort’s location but to a select few. A fort needs to be Top Secret, after all!

Desilu needs a place to plot and plan, also. Or even… to just sit back and take it all in. Today I arrive with a troop of Catholic boys from my school and fort building turns out to be our first mission.

We find a little room at the top of the stairs in a small, circular Spanish style cantina village. It has two entrances into this colony. One is a dirt road that enters from a western street that is cleverly built along the backside of of this cantina. One side Mexico, the other side could be El Paso. All you need do to accomplish this is to go through a doorway.

Entrance from Western street into Cantina…above

Two pictures over thirty years apart, same angle. Love Story 1940… below

A second entrance is the main one. It is easily accessible from the eucalyptus tree line that runs along the La Ballona Creek. Only a tiny dirt road seperates this area from the freedom that the creek provides.

My troop of guys today want to accomplish something special. Catholic school boys aim high!

Pat is my main side kick today… already shot at and battle tested. I can trust him not to talk even if tortured. My little Irish leprechaun friend is the tuffest guy, pound for pound that I know. Two English cats with the last name Sullivan come along with us today. They are Barry and Jerry. Now we’ve got an Irish temper and two English hot heads. It’s like a soccer match.

Because of our… let’s just say… resistance to discipline, the four of us are often subject to extreme discipline tactics from the nuns that run our school.

We all have the bruises to prove it. But today, no rules apply!

Plus, we are all kinda smart, which can be dangerous… as well as fun. Plus a fight is never out of the question…

We enter the lot and this village is exactly as described, running across a simple road and straight up the stairs, into a nice sized vacant room. An old rickety ladder gets you on to the roof or up to the 3rd story. Being on the roof gives us access to run around this circular village like a short cut you could easily fall through.

View from roof above fort…

This becomes our entrance protocol. Run in, get acclimated, figure out as much as possible… as fast as possible.

Putting a fort here makes sense, and that is all that is on our minds today. We look around for things to use. One negative is from the dirt road below. We can easily be seen up here. Although, we have many escape routes, we want PRIVACY.

We start with a set of drapes that we grab from Andy Griffith’s house to block the view of prying eyes, from the dirt road below. We easily hook them up with existing nails. Now, we can peek out, but we maintain our own space.

Our drapes came from this iconic home which later had a fort … upstairs

Next, we need chairs or things to sit on.

Well… low and behold! There are a bunch of wooden boxes with the word EXPLOSIVES stamped on them that were used in Hogan’s Heroes. When the camp was torn down recently, lots of things got moved. A guard tower now sits on the western street behind this set, as an example.

These boxes make great seats and we have enough to make a table and foot rests. Most everything in this fort says DANGER on one side, and EXPLOSIVES on the other.

Funny thing is, these Sullivan boys smoke cigarettes. But of course, these boxes are empty.

2 more views of village

The 4 of us spent the morning on this Cantina fort project… we are very ambitious! The 2nd half of the day, we struck GOLD at the neighboring water hole saloon on Western street.

To be continued… Desilu Saloon…coming soon, Don’t change that channel !

All stories written and lived by Donnie Norden
Edited by DQ

Once upon a time … early 1970’s July 4th—

There is a firework stand in a vacant lot on my corner. My pal, Jimmy and I, visit it everyday, multiple times a day. Pyro addicts, you could say. All that fancy Red Devil packaging is quite the charm. Kinda lures kids in to a vice they can barely afford.

Just like those fake cigarettes that taste like chalk, that get sold to kids at the new 7/11, that just opened up. The tips of these candy Winstons are even orange. My dad and I talk man stuff as he smokes a Marlboro, and I suck on a candy Winston.

I need money for my fireworks… so, Jimmy and I pick a crop of pear shaped avocados from the two trees in my yard, and load them in a red wagon flyer to begin sales… door to door. This becomes lucrative, very quickly. A buck a piece is the going rate and we can’t fill this wagon up fast enough, as customers are thrilled at this new delivery service.

The empty wagon then pulls up to the firework stand as we pay cash for bigger fireworks. We are quickly becoming entrepreneurs. The Red Wagon Flyer goes out with avocados and returns with bigger and bigger firework displays. Cash paid on the spot. Business men indeed. Time for another candy cigarette.

Today is July 4th. I want to go into MGM today. We have been busy buying and selling, all week, and have neglected our backlot. That is not the place to play with fireworks. Jimmy is gone this morning, so I turn to Maureen – she lives across the the street from Jimmy, and is just a sling shot away from me.

I tap, tap, tap on her window pane until she finally peeks her head out from under her covers. I whisper, since it’s early… “want to go to MGM with me today?”

The next thing you know, she is running out the front door, “I left a note for my mom… I told her we were going jogging at the beach, on the city bus.”

Nice job, I think to myself… notes are the way to go… that way NO never comes up.

Off we go, skipping and hopping along the tracks, as we get to the regular climb-in spot. I enter first. And it is apparent Maureen has become very efficient at climbing barb wire and sharp metal. She is better than many of the boys I roll with.

Immediately, we see the fire marshal as we tuck inside a Pullman train. We are lucky he did not hear us climbing in. He drives a red Ford Falcon that is complete with a siren and a red flashing cone light on top. The Bronco doesn’t even have those emergency gadgets.

His car door is open and he now walks out of our snow room storage area. His job is to look for hazards, rather than trespassers. But, he does wear a badge and I’ve been called a hazard before.

He gets in and leaves, and we quickly follow suit, as we try to see where he is going.

He drives past Boystown, so we feel safe that he is done around these parts. We make the crazy climb up to a vantage point that Jimmy and I found while exploring. It is the top of the building, where an overhang exists. We can see most of the backlot from up here, and conclude that Fireman Fernald has left the lot.

I have been thinking about making a fort, and today, I concluded… just might be the right day for that. And this is the best spot on the lot. It fits all the criteria needed: Views of the entire lot (including the main gate, so we can see at a distance when any vehicles roll in), and escape routes. And by the by, it’s extremely difficult to reach this spot. I can also see my house from here.

At night, if you’re not familiar with the climb… good luck. Even with a flashlight!

I mention to Maureen about my fort idea and that I know where furnishings are… and then, I ask her if she wants to build a fort with me. With a big smile, she nods approvingly, and we head over to Maple street to shop for needed furnishings.

Many homes here have courtesy set dressing in each doorway. That is because when the camera faces an open front door, furniture needs to exist. All the basics… coffee table, carpet, and paintings convince the audience that these are real homes.

I grab a bench that has a tag hidden on the bottom, indicating that it was used in They Only Kill their Masters, starring James Garner. Maureen grabs a rolled up carpet and we now head back to Boystown. Slowly, we inch along because with my bench in tow, it’s awkward to move any faster. We stay on the sidewalk as we walk down Small Town Square, just in case we need to escape through a back door.

The only problem with Boystown is that access requires crossing very open expanses. In other words, we could be seen, very easily. A dirt road circles this large buiding and the Bronco repeatedly patrols this spot. But once you’re inside, all is well.

Getting this large bench through this maze is hard enough, but now it has to go up a hidden, narrow ladder. We manage to point the bench lengthwise, just like the ladder, and that requires me pulling it up, while Maureen steers the stern. We have one bench up here from our initial occupation, but we need more…

The hardest part is over as we reach basecamp. Maureen unrolls her carpet, as I put the bench on top of it. We step back with joy and finally sit down proudly on our new furniture. Like a young couple starting out.

After catching our breath, we decide to go get some more stuff for our condo penthouse.

Stuff exists practically everywhere on this lot and we go shopping again, armed with unlimited Blue Chip stamps.

This next trip brings us to Andy Hardy’s house.

This house provides us with a coffee table with wheels… perfect! I can roll it and I don’t have to carry it. In the meantime, Maureen has grabbed a large tin Pepsi sign, and we are on the move again. Just as we walk towards the front door walkway, I spot a large Foster’s Lager beer can, unopened. I grab that, also. It doesn’t fit in my pocket, so it must ride on top of my vibrating table that is being pushed along, down the street.

Boystown tower peeks over the Harmony sign. This road is where we traversed back and forth.

I’m pushing a table that becomes much more difficult to handle, when the paved road we are on turns to dirt. The good news is that we are getting close to Boystown at that point. Once again, we muscle it up to the top story. Proudly, this pad is coming together.

The two pictures above, are both Andy Hardy’s house. The backside, above, faces a different street than the front side does. You would not know this is the same place.

Below, the overhang on the building below is our fort location

Below, front side of Boystown… where fort exists.

This building in the very near future will come under tremendous scrutiny by MGM security. This includes uniformed city police raids. 

A movie will be shot here soon that involves a Phantom, played by Jack Cassidy. Two teenagers fall to their death from my fort. Coincidence? … I think not.

This lot is only big enough for one Phantom.

Above: Pat sitting on the bench, in the fort that Maureen and I put together on this 4th of July.  

Below, reverse camera angle of fort from bench. The water cooler was snagged later from a construction crew working the backlot. The little orange sign next to it states: You are tardy if you are not in your seat when the bell rings.

Don’t forget, I am Catholic school trained. You have to know the rules to break the rules!

Below: That little table is the one from Andy Hardy’s house. When this picture was taken, two empty Orange Crush bottles, a Mickey’s Big Mouth, also found on the lot, and an ammo clip from Combat, are also on the table. A coat from Combat hangs on the wall.

Typical fort stuff!

Maureen’s Pepsi sign can partially be seen in the picture above.

Below, pictures of the view from our pad… every angle.

Continued…

To celebrate, we open that extra large metal can with the Foster’s Lager on the label. Cheers!… Our very first adult beverage, in our very first fort. I pop the top and… ooops, beer is shooting out all over us.

Okay, I got it under control…  I drink it as fast as it sprouts out, handing it over to her when I need a breath. The dirt that covers us now, is a soft, stinky mud. Messy, yet.. tantalizing.

It’s warm and we both become slightly intoxicated, quickly. Probably because we have to guzzle the alcohol waterfall. It’s hot, we are filthy, and so, we decide to exit our pad for now and cool off at Tarzan’s lake, which sits right across from our back steps.

I am still carrying this can from the Australian outback, as we approach the paddle wheel. I look at the can I am about to finish off and kiddingly joke: “The beer from the Outback is being finished on Backlot… how fitting!” We take our last sips and drop the empty can into the lake, where it is met with interest by carp and crawfish.

Slowly, it sinks out of view.

“I wonder if Tarzan was from the Outback?” I continue on with this Outback theme. “Ahh, the Outback has nothing on this old backlot.”

“Jane,” I now call Maureen, “jump up on that paddle wheel! I’ll spin ya fast.”

There she is, spinning like a lumberjack on a log. 

“Tarzan get up here! Let’s do it together,” Jane beckons.

Yipes, I’m a bit buzzed, but Tarzan never turns down a challenge.

I climb up with a degree of difficulty because I need to freshly spin the wheel and jump on as fast as possible. I do it, and after nearly falling off, we develop a nice rhythm, Jane and I.

Slowly, we roll to a stop, like a roulette wheel.

We better go check in, we have been here all day. Notes only last so long.

Huron bound we march… after waving goodbye, we agree to meet again at dusk to go to the Cuver High firework show.  This will be the first Firework night ever spent with a girl. I really am starting to like this girl, I think!

Dusk arrives and down the street we march, but at the corner, we hang a left rather than the straight path to Culver High. This can mean only one thing… we are going back to MGM. That’s right. In this short walk, we decide we will watch the fireworks from MGM. Not from Boystown, but from the Combat church with it’s marvelous south bay views, towards LAX and beyond.

I am a music guy, and of course I am armed with a transistor radio – state of the art, AM/FM, with a rotary dials. We climb up another precarious, narrow maze to the  top of the steeple.

We reach the very top, which only fits two comfortably, side by side, really close. Lucky for me!

I break out the transistor and tune back and forth from KMET, KLOS, KROQ and AM (favorite KHJ). We compare music tastes. She likes Steely Dan as we hear Reeling in the Years on one station. Next, “We’re an American Band” by Grand Funk, “Horse with No Name” by America… all the hits… as the fireworks begin…

If I only had a Winston to suck on….

This story happened on…

The 4th of July ….  Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

All stories written and lived by Donnie Norden
Edited by DQ

It is a late Saturday night. The Vets park tower just chimed 10 bells. My pal, Jimmy and I have just been cruising my hood. We stopped earlier to visit my girl, Maureen, briefly, on her front porch. I could tell that Jimmy has an attraction going on. All of us on this street are at the point now, where boys and girls can actually work together. In other words, girls are not just an object to throw fruit at!

As the clock strikes 10 pm, James and I are climbing into the MGM backlot. Dark and eerily silent, we begin creeping  around Lot 2. We know already… being a Saturday… that we won’t have any activity on the lot. Just a guard in a Jeep going round in circles, village to village, town to town and everywhere, in between.

Jimmy can’t stop talking about my girlfriend. He is older than I am, so that presents obstacles that work to his advantage. For one, he will have a permit to drive soon. For another, he is pretty cool. All my friends are, but I am the first to claim a female.

As we walk and occasionally jog our way around half the lot already, there are no signs of life in it, except some occasional owl hoots. The backlot is pitch dark and you sometimes have trouble knowing what you are looking at … from a distance anyway.

That is happening now, as Jimmy and I round a corner on a dirt road, behind what we call “The Watermill House.”. A jungle lurks just beyond this set… Tarzan’s  jungle.

The Watermill House, a must ride on this paddle. When you walk through the front door of this building, you are in the backside.

Backside of Watermill House, below. And the road that curves into the jungle…

Jungles are scary in the dark when you’re trespassing. I prefer New York City, just beyond the trees and forest. A road cuts through the center of the length of this forest. Jimmy keeps bringing up Maureen, as we move about, and I silently wish she was with me now, rather than him.

As we turn the bend behind the watermill house, we are going to make our way down that long dark road in the jungle. Slowly, we both come to a stop. We are both stupified by what we think is out of place.

There is something blocking the long straight jungle path, so we stare, as we begin to see distinguishing features. I see two oval cylinders that are equally spaced apart, and I see a white glow around their radius. It appears to be the Bronco, parked. I think I see its distinguishing headlight mounts. Yes indeed, I am sure of it!

It blends in perfectly in these surroundings, Jimmy and I  both realize at the same time, what this is… and at the exact same time, those circular cylinders light up… and this Bronco is storming towards us. Peace and serenity immediately turn to… CHAOS.

The normally quiet jungle now has the roar of an engine hauling towards us. The fence is 20 yards away and we are doing our best to get to it, ahead of this pursuer.  We run a straight line through a Greens department area. The Bronco and its occupant breathe dangerously close to our rear ends.

We hit the fence flying, as the roar of the engine churns louder. It is only then that I look back, as I am about to leap over. The guard is the imposing 6 foot 9 inch, Ron Smith. He takes up a huge portion of the windshield that is now point blank at the fence as we both jump to safety onto Arizona avenue.

We continue to run home as we hear Ron shout from atop the fence, “I’ll get you next time!”

Above the fence and behind the Watermill House where this chase concluded…

Yipes, that was as close as it gets…he could have run us over! I was not sure if he was going to crash into the fence. He could have easily shot us on top of the fence, and he packs a large side arm. This was our closest pursuit ever. An adreneline rush like none before. It takes an hour to come down.

I sit safely at home with my mom, watching The Best of Groucho, just minutes later. I feel like a secret agent with a double life, innocently eating a tuna sandwich with my dear mom, my heart still thumping from my narrow escape.

16 hours later…

Today is Sunday, the day after. I am walking with Maureen, going over last night’s chase. No need to embellish last night, as this chase was better than advertised. If we are going to be a couple long term, she has to know how to handle these situations, I think proudly.

Overland main gate … Actual chase vehicle Bronco parked below, as seen through chain link fence.

As we continue walking the sidewalks around this backlot, we find ourselves at the Overland Gate, and guess who is sitting in the Bronco at this gate?

It is Ron Smith, last night’s culprit. I make eye contact with him as he signals me to approach him on the lot. We hesitantly proceed towards him as he simply says,”I let you get away last night,”

I think, Not Quite!… you just couldn’t keep up…

At this same moment, he asks, “who is my friend?” He has a grown man crush on my girlfriend, Maureen, it appears.

I introduce them and the next thing you know, he invites us into the Bronco, for my first friendly tour, ever. It is the same vehicle that hunted me down, late last night. Today, it is our vehicle to enjoy. Like a Twilight Zone episode.

He drives crazily around this deserted lot, doing donuts as we call them, showing off.

He empties the bullets out of his pistol and hands it to Maureen who is sitting shot gun. We pass his gun back and forth, impressed. It is huge… 357 Magnum huge… This gun is as big as this guy himself. It is the first real pistol I ever had my hands on.

I’m admiring his weapon as he admires my girl, who looks so nice in her little blue jean cut offs… sitting cross legged. I spin his cylinder and blow in his gun barrel. This is one bad piece!

If only the other guards could see me now… with a pistol in the back of the Bronco. It looks like Ron is my prisoner with this big pistol and all pointing at the back of his head.. He is all about the young lady sitting alongside him and seems to have forgotten the kid in the back seat.

I’m feeling it…Maureen and I make a marvelous team, like um… Bonnie and Clyde.

He is  being so polite today… last night is rapidly becoming distant. He is becoming my pal, at least when I have this pretty blonde girl with me, named Maureen….anyhow!

I have learned a practical life lesson on this backlot; there are double standards. Pretty girls can open even the most well secured gates with just a smile and a simple wave.

Yet, for me, lace those tennis shoes tight boy… because different rules apply. Until next time Mr Ron…

All stories written and lived by Donnie Norden
Edited by DQ

Well, this place around the block from me, sure is active. Day and night, what a cool hobby I am developing. Everyday, I keep tabs on this backlot that presents itself in all its glory.

Sounds, smells, and lights punctuate themselves as you walk along the studio’s fenceline. It seems that peep holes exist every 10 feet or so, in the old green fence. Most people settle for this tease, not daring to challenge the Trespassing and Loitering  Forbidden by Law signs mounted by each tempting peep hole.

That ploy worked for a long time, and I obeyed the posted signs. But, my life has become entirely altered. A complete disregard of rules by yours truly, has opened up a pulsating, adventure laden lifestyle that has become compulsively addicting.

Even at school, it’s as if I’m not present. My mind is always focused on some show, some set, or some chase, on some backlot. I live it, I dream it, I sleep it and wake up to it.

What amazes me is that I am the only kid around who takes it to this level.

Jimmy is my best pal and he often enjoys the same stuff, yet, he is more compliant than I am. His parents are a bit more do-gooders. Jimmy’s dad is a teacher. He is scholarly. He hands out pencils on Halloween. My dad is an ex-fireman and thinks this MGM thing is pretty cool.

“Just don’t get hurt” is how my family sends me off. Dad likes my updates on television shows and the sets that I hang out on. When I hear a  “NO,” I often disregard and wonder why it can’t be “YES.”

Tonight, filming is taking place. You can’t miss it… even the tops of these old massive eucalyptus trees are illuminated. Lights pointing off into space. This normally pitch-dark area is extremely active tonight, inviting Jimmy and I on another adventure of unknown origin.

“Let’s do it” we utter to ourselves. The next thing we know, we are over the fence and checking out this very active set from, once again, the church steeple in German village.

This is just like last week, when I was sneaking onto the Medical Center set. I am thinking, this may be that show again. I mention that possibility to Jimmy. We watch the show on TV for its use of the backlot.

This view is out of the church window, second story. It often has a machine gun protruding from it and blank ammo shells litter the floor.

The area that is green is the area that is being filmed tonight. You can’t quite see it, but, that is the Esther Williams pool set or as we call it… The Bewitchin’ pool, from the very last Twillight Zone ever.

We can see a police car with its lights on, parked alongside the pool. We think it’s for the show and not for us, since we have not been seen. But we need to get closer, so we become very ambitious.

We actually formulate a plan based off how this set is arranged. We exit the lot, only to reappear right behind this park setting scene.

We climb in at a chain link fence, just behind the pool and the colonial mansion. But, we must be really slick because someone lives in this house we are climbing into.

It is the caretaker’s house; a family lives inside, complete with a little dog. this place is occupied 365 days a year. But tonight, the adjacent garage will provide us with a rooftop to peer through the tree branches and down on this set.

Here we are on some guy’s garage, I think to myself, but we see the police car clearly. It has NYPD on it, and a black man is walking and talking to a white lady. He appears to be the star. Sprinklers water the grass behind them as the camera picks all this up. Sprinklers, walking, talking, police lights flashing. This repeats itself with just the slightest variations, as time slowly spins.

The lighting is mesmerizing and it sedates us. We imagine all the shows that filmed here, prior. Decades worth, still going strong. We are very comfortable, trippin’ out, as a pesky dog starts barking.

We’ve been had by a two pound dog. We jump down and run over to the fence, chased by little fluffy mutt. An old man shouts… “Get out of here!” from his porch, and we oblige.

But not before another backlot adventure gets chalked up. Our confidence is through the roof, literally. Day or night, this place never stops.

By the by, that black man we see, is Richard Roundtree … also known as… SHAFT.

We were not sure what this show was, until the next day, when I found this sheet. It is the pilot and has not been on TV yet. Shaft was big at the box office and feature sequels also transpired. It starts the beginning of blacks as heroes in movies and TV.

All stories written and lived by Donnie Norden
Edited by DQ

Everyday, my first priority after arriving home from school is grab a friend and go hit a backlot. Desilu or MGM Lot 2, the hardest decision of my day is choosing between these lots. Lot 2 , due to it’s proximity, is on our radar…everyday.

Desilu, is a bicycle ride. Lot 2 is walking distance. MGM is at least a short visit for me almost everyday.  This fall late afternoon day, I find myself, by myself. Well, who needs friends, anyway. They will just slow me down!

I say this reassuringly, over and over, to myself. First, as I jump down from a top the train station fence, then next as I survey the backlot from the steeple in German village. There is a tremendous amount of activity over across the field at the colonial mansion.

Cables connecting to lighting equipment run along the dusty road sides beaming with people coming and going in shuttle vans. I have a great distant view of the goings on, but trees are blocking the actual area that is being set up for filming. I cannot make it out from here, as I repeat to myself, who needs friends, they’re always afraid …anyhow.

With that reinforcement, after getting a feel for how this set is functioning, I decide to get a lot closer. I will take a roundabout path that allows me to escape since it will involve me hiding in the shrubbery just inside the old green fence.

I make my way slowly, one bush at a time, on to the next,  cutting through a cemetery, hiding behind grave stones. There is a steady amount of vehicles driving back and forth on a close by dirt road. It seems like it has taken at least an half an hour but I have sucessfully positioned myself alongside and inside some thornbushes, with a view that allows me to see first, camera, then a director and finally a convertible that is rehearsing pulling up to the mansion.

This happens 3 times, each time very similiar. The car pulls in fast to a sudden preconcieved stopping spot, in camera, then  dialogue as the dust settles and two gentlemen step out, and walk towards the recently decorated mansion.

I recognize them quickly. One is an older gray man and the other is a sharp young guy in sun glasses. He is named Chad Everett. James Daly is the older guy.

As soon as I realized what I was watching it ended just as fast. Wrap… is called.

I backtrack out easily since the fence is close by. I run home to tell my sister I just saw her favorite actor from her favorite show.

Medical Center…cool, kinda fun doing this one all by myself.

All stories written and lived by Donnie Norden
Edited by DQ

Who shot… Pat Rich?

That … is what we need to know… Who is trigger-happy around here? The sooner we know, the better. As time goes on, we see different tendencies attached to the revolving door of security guards. They are all a mixed bag of nuts. Some are spicier than others… some so hot, they shoot.

We can forsee how the day… or night… will go, based on who is behind the wheel. We know more about them than they do us. Jim and I are now beginning a campain to meet these gentlemen… at their posts or guard shacks. Just to innocently talk MGM history with the men who had lived it.

Did you do it?

Simple enough… inflate their ego, as they describe their favorite stories… tell me more, tell me more. The first guard we approach is working Lot 1, the West Gate on Overland. His name is Ken Hollywood. As it turns out, a couple of questions about the backlot turns into ten minutes of stories… soon we are comfortable enough to tell him that we sneak in, just to see the place we are in awe of.

Then we spill the beans, mentioning we were shot at a couple weeks ago in a chase on the backlot… we ask, “who would do such a thing?”

His response is “well, if you do use your revolver, there’s seven pages of paperwork involved.”

I think to myself... seven pages to shoot a kid! …it’s that acceptable?… No problem about the shooting, but all that darn paperwork!…

Did you do it? …Les Green

Ken allows us to make ourselves at home as we sit in his official chair and spin in circles inside the shack. He is too nice… really, he is!

As Jimmy jokes outside with him, I am reading memos and production sheets. This is a library of important info. Ken tells Jimmy the name of the stocky, bald guard who worked that weekend: Bob Coleman. Better yet, he also drives a green Bel Air.

Then he jokes… “Bob is a boxer, but I think the only boxing he ever did was apples, in Yakima valley,” as he laughed at his own humor. I am in love with this Ken Hollywood guy. He works this gate all the time and enjoys our company, it seems.

He fills us in on anything we ask him about. An African American gentlemen named Al Black stops by briefly to drop something off at the shack. Call sheets. They are like gold…

Al puts up a clipboard with Shaft and Medical Center featured as backlot prep and shoot. Both to be in close proximity of each other on the backlot.

Al Black… Did you do it?

Overland Gate also known as West Gate. The closest gate to Lot 2.

Al and I would shortly become good friends, and he knows Wilt Chamberlain!

Al is a huge Laker fan. He will clown around with you when you’re on the legal side of the fence… but he is all company when you cross the line. Well, I can’t help but think of what it would be like to be chased by Wilt.

We have just met two key figures, both presently and even more significantly in the future. We have achieved even more than we expected.

We bid a fond farewell, saying, “See ya next time, Ken,” as we almost crash into each other riding home… laughing all the way…

We know the shooter’s name… Bob Coleman. We know his personal car and where he parks, when on duty. We also know he carries a gun on duty… and is willing to do seven pages of paperwork, apparently. From this point forward, his nickname for us is “Bronco Bob.”

We know more about him than he does us. Excellent. Daringly, we take our info to the backlot and find some paint. Then we paint a sign and stick it up, at an intersection he can’t miss it. It says BRONCO BOB IS THE SHOOTER! We do this while he is on patrol. We know because his car is where Ken said it would be, and we hide to watch his reaction.

Let’s just say, he slams on his brakes, jumps out and takes the sign away, in anger.

That makes 2 for us, 0 for Bob. Not only can he not catch us, he does not even know who he is trying to catch, shoot, or run over!

We have the upperhand, as it turns out. If you have questions on security, who better to ask than... security? Ken can’t say enough, as we find out. We are just his laugh track.

The same gate, thirty years apart (above and below).

South Gate…on Culver blvd. Across from Backstage bar that Combat actors drank at after work. Shots for all, after a hard day playing Army.

Garth Bluff, in the color picture above, is second in seniority and 32 years (and counting) as an MGM guard. He lives a sling shot away, back by the Grand Central station. I would later visit with him at his home. A real gentlemen, he would not shoot a kid. You can see the lot towering in the sky, from his front yard. We would become friends.

We can now go over who is being paid to secure this wonderland.

Roll call looks this way…Ken Hollywood number one seniority officer.

#2 Garth Bluff

#3 Ken Wood, not to be confused with Hollywood Ken above. He is the one that opened doors for us to meet the men who would chase us. In the future, he was the one that introduced me to Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly.

#4 Al Marioenzi. In the near future, he gives me a tour of the Thalberg building and Louie B. Mayer’s enshrined office. I sat behind the desk of this Hollywood mogul. Al is also a patron of St. Augustine parrish. He shared a story about the Marx brothers, while in Louies’ office… that they took off their clothes while waiting for him to walk in. Creepy… that’s the story he chose to share.

#5 Ron Smith, all 6’9″ of him. A loner who carries a 357 magnum. Clint Eastwood would be proud of this piece. He doesn’t hang with other guards and is friendly but, game on if you tresspass on his watch.

#6 Bob Coleman, Bronco Bob. He IS who shot at P.R.

Bob’s green Bel Air is parked behind Peter Lawford in this shot, he parks there when on duty on backlot,  just as Ken told us.

#7 Fernald Millintz.. a fire inspector. He patrols, looking for hazards, but will chase you if he sees you. He has his own fire vehicle, a mid sixties Falcon.

Here he is across from Maureen’s apartment…

The East Gate Exit…Lot 1. Bye Mr. Hitchcock.

All stories written and lived by Donnie Norden
Edited by DQ