Author: Phantom of the Backlot

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

Pat sits across from me, obviously still shaken by his ordeal. His first words are… “Why did he go after me? There is one of me and ten of you!” “Never mind that,” I snap back. Then I asked, “Did you get a good look at him?”

PAT… in his Ted Evans Motorcycle hat and shirt

“Yeah,” he said, “he was hanging his bald head out the window, shouting ‘Stop! Or I’ll shoot!'” Okay… there is one guy we see often, with a bald head, I ponder. I have seen him on foot before… he is short and stocky. Jimmy was not with me this afternoon, but he needs to know immediately that the rules have changed. Shooting is acceptable!

Pat continues, “he aimed the gun and yelled… ‘Stop!’… and I jumped through an open window into the hunting lodge. Then he fired!”

“Yeah, he was burnin’ rubber all around the lodge… I could see it from the fence. He could have caught a handful if he realized these guys were scared stiff,” I retort.

I continue… “I bet those shots made you pick up your speed a little bit… I always told you you’re slow… good job Pat, you saved lives today.”…”man those shots were LOUD!”

We need to find out more about this Bald guy. As I tell Jim, this is a bit disconcerting. It has been going so well, this backlot trespassing thing. We almost simultaneously come up with a plan. We will ride our bikes to all the guard shacks on Lot 1, in the weeks ahead, casually visiting bored guards. We will put on our best young man charm and dig for information regarding this mean bald guy.

Time to do backlot homework… on guards and their tendencies. Finally, fun homework!

But there is more filming going on before that takes place and we will have to fly blind, for now. Nighttime, though much more scary, may be a safer alternative. Anyway, the next filming will be Friday night, a chase scene, involving Charlton Heston and Chuck Connors. After all, it’s on my call sheet!

Well, Pat is a trooper. He wants to return to the scene of the crime with me tonight, this last Friday before Halloween. I would understand if he was a bit gun-shy. But… If you fall off a bike, get right back on! So… If you get shot at while being chased, shoot back! Same idea. Pat has moxie, I like that leprechaun.

We can’t pick our guards. We play the hand we are dealt.

The lot looks fantastic at night, lit up enough to be seen from space by the Apollo astronauts. Pat and I get in at the opposite end of the lot, at the train station. It is still the safest way to start and is the closest set to my house. Once inside, just follow the lights.

From the look of the set, the camera is setting up in front of the public library. The very first scene of the night is being set up. Transportation has parked picture cars on the street, in front of it. Across the way, but out of view to us, is an alley way that history will show has had more shootouts than any alley in the world. This alley exits to a cemetery set that was moved here. It’s the same tombstones we hid behind when we first came through our Hole in the Fence. they have been moved here to New York street. We are in the same building that we watched the scoops do their job from, last week.

We are looking out windows and curtains, as Set Lighting’s arc lights penetrate our veil, eerily. We notice graffitti on the wall behind us, lit by a bluish lighting. It says, Merry Christmas from 20th Century Fox. St. Valentines Day Massacre  12/21/67. This gives me chills… a moment in time captured on a wall forever! Another show I need to see!

This warehouse set below was built inside a garage on Brownstone street for this climactic scene…

Chuck Connors is shooting it out, as I speak. The Rifleman is after Omega Man. Round after round of blank ammo, firing away. Blanks are just as loud and fire discharges from the barrel, just like the real deal. Makes me proud to know there is a mountain of blank cartridges inside a warehouse close by.  From this same window, you could have seen Pat get shot last Saturday.  I have seen this movie, like a trailer. Reality and show biz walk a fine line, in this gated paradise.

We can see Charlton better when in between- filming. His trailer is below us. As is catering. Turns out, there is a crew dinner at midnight. But, we also see MGM security mingling around. We go on the roof, just below the massive cat walks and soak all this in. Our vantage point now is similiar to the owls who watch from those same catwalks.

There are two owls that we see every evening and I find the spot where they sleep during the day. I wake them up one day, exploring above the alley set. There is a stack of critter bones under their relaxation areas. I wonder how many shows they have watched. Caterers and food attract rodents and then these guys swoop down for the kill. Being in the business I’m in... Trespassing… I will cross paths with these birds …often.

This set tonight has stars… not the million extras the day scenes had. Just the heavies showed up tonight. An intimate little chase and shootout. We have had more people involved in our shootout than this show has. I look over and relive our chase, in between the filming of their chase scenes. This is a really cool feeling. Like we are making our own history.

The view we had on the caterer from the top roof of the picture just above this one.

We case the catering area, as drivers’ lunch begins at 11:30 pm. Problem is… we are not old enough to drive and do not look like Teamsters. That plan probably won’t work… to eat lunch with grizzly show biz drivers and B.S. with them while we get our food… “Yep, I traded my 10 speed KenWorth for a 12-speed White Freightliner… I love driving the open roads… pass me the ketchup would ya brother?”

No, too much can go wrong here, we just do not look like truckers! They look gnarly, much tougher than guards. Tattoos, pony tails and red bandanas… I just started shaving a year ago, and I look like a catholic boy. Pat looks worse… he is so short, he would need a booster seat to drive a big rig. These are the things you think about when you become hungry and bored.

If something goes wrong with these guys… we could be getting chased out of here by a honeywagon, or a motor home, or the big mean water truck that wets down the street.

We decide to leave, as the clock strikes midnight… the latest I have ever trespassed. For now anyways..

Another show is being filmed at MGM, it is called Westworld. MGM is still producing quality movies as we move towards 1973

This show would have been filmed on Lot 3… but it was sadly torn down.

The backlot used for the western street scenes were filmed at The Burbank Studios backlot. This is the first MGM feature that needed to find a western street, due to the sale of Lot 3.

The decimation of MGM Lot 3 starts the official decline of movie backlots. Lot 2 does not have a western street, but Desilu has a mighty fine one… just ’cause it’s always fun to play hooky as a cowboy. I am eyeing a saloon on that street that would make swell fort.

Next up… Who shot Pat Rich?

All stories written and lived by Donnie Norden
Edited by DQ

Going to school five days a week is a grind. I ride my bike and leave early every morning. My journey to St. Augustine happens to lead me along the studio’s fence lines. First, I pass the backlot, and I peek through the many existing holes as temptation stares back at me. Eventually, I arrive at school, with an arm full of books and Pee Chee folders and a head full of MGM daydreams.

This is my normal routine, but on this morning, I am flabbergasted by the images appearing on the backlot side. It is as if a circus had arrived. Tents, with movie extras in rag tag looking clothing dominate the landscape. There is a calm order as people are dressed by wardrobe, touched up by make up artists, then fed breakfast by caterers. I can see all of this from a hole which has transformed itself into my personal TV set.

This hole is about 12 inches wide and 2 inches in lenghth. Strategically placed, it is the best hole to see things from on the entire fenced lot. It is located on Montana Ave., just south of Overland. New York street towers above this fence.

Trucks of every size and shape are squeezed into the perimeter of this massive set. All this is in the foreground of my hole. Orange dump trucks, some parked, some driving, are being positioned on the the iconic N.Y.  street, itself—the street most famous for MGM musicals. I have no idea what I am looking at quite yet, but I must head to school  or I will be tardy. All day, my body is in class, but my mind is on the backlot.

I tell my best friend, Pat, a leprechaun looking lad who is tough as nails. He is going to go with me when the school day ends, to figure out what is going on at lot 2. I have a couple of other pals who have been bugging me for a tour and I am inviting friends from both Culver and St. Augustine for a large site seeing tour this Saturday.  That is still days away.

Today, Pat and I will take the plunge into the backlot under feature film conditions.  That means people are everywhere you turn, on this set. As the clock on the school wall hits 3 pm, Pat and I are on our bikes heading to the circus. We stop and peek inside the same hole that captivated me this morning. Let me just say that it’s even better now.

CHAOS is being filmed. Garbage trucks that I saw this morning, are scooping people up on the streets. I told Pat this is going to be cool… but not this cool!

We climb in at the train station, after parking our bikes and dumping our books off at my house. I have never seen so much activity on the lot. We encounter set “dressing;” craftsmen are positioning props, such as tables, chairs, and porch lights, to give a different look to a regular old building. Obviously decorating the mansion for another show. They see us walk by, watching us, as we act like we belong. The Bronco passes by without seeing us… another plus.

We arrive at the perimeter of NY street after a long methodical, calculating  journey.  On the way, we identify the movie through a cardboard sign in a car windshield,  Its title is called Soylent Green.

We climb to the top of a five story building to observe below. The fence is a short distance away from this structure, which is handy in an emergency. There is a guard on set that we recognize. He seems to be guarding the large craft service tables, full of delicious looking goodies. We see the iconic MGM sign and water tower in the distance from our perch. The Lion is roaring today.

We cannot believe what we our watching. There is a huge building getting the brunt of the action and it obscures our view. This is the hub of activity as rioters are being scooped up.

As time passes, it is starting to get dark. The assistant director calls a wrap and immediately, like ants below, things are rapidly put away. That is our cue to leave also. We glide to my house, still captivated by what we just witnessed. No one in my neighborhood has a clue about what is going on just a couple blocks away.

Everyone is locked into their daily routine. Mine happens to include backlots. Anything can and does happen here.

Word spreads like wild fire. Two schools are impacted and many kids are becoming curious about this event. Extras are being used and many locals, or residents without jobs, are in this mob scene. 20 dollars and a box lunch are the offerings. I arrange a time to meet at my house, for a grand tour, this Saturday. Be there or be square!

There is still more filming before then, as I am reminded, on my way to school the following morning. Day two… more of the same, but by Friday, the entire set is empty of actors and extras. Just workers moving stuff around.

I figure it is over with, now, and it’s a set strike, so, when I give a tour tomorrow, we will be hunting souvenirs in this area.

A sunny morning is upon us and the magnitude of what we are about to do is apparent by all the bicycles parked in my driveway. Pat brings a couple guys I never met who go to Venice High.

Gerald, a kid on my block, also brings guys from Culver. Pat and I are Catholic boys and three schools are represented here. We start by playing with my Combat ammo magazines… we pour out the gunpowder, then light it. Enough said…

This fires everyone up and the mission is on. “That is a sample of what awaits,” I  proudly say. By the time we get to to the tracks, we have a dozen kids. I don’t know all their names so let’s call them The Dirty Dozen.

I lead them down the train tracks as I think to myself, this could backfire… too big of a crowd. But, I will get away for sure, if we have a security issue… These guys will be lost inside here.

This mission starts like a game of follow the leader. We have all day and plan to cover all we can. We are very adventurous, due to all of our experience in recent months, of doing this stuff. We visit all the same stuff we visited earlier… same sets, different kids.

Train depot first. Kids love trains. Snow room next. Kids love snow. Then, we run into German Village. We look at Combat bomb craters that still exist on this street. A moment of silence for the greatest show ever. Everyone sees the battlefield that my ammo was used in.

Very impressive, indeed. I am a rockstar at the moment, and The Dirty Dozen follows me like puppies.

We run across an old foot bridge that extends over the lake and into the jungle. There, we try to silently weave our way through the jungle. We are close to the Soylent Green set.

We approach as cautiously as a mob can. New York Street towers beyond this jungle and we are close. These guys want souvenirs, and so do I. I think the best place is the huge building that was a hub in the rioting scenes I saw earlier this week.

We run across a New York street. There are about 10 intersections around these parts to give the appearance that it goes on forever. The building we enter is big enough to hold an airplane.

Inside is Soylent Green and Soylent Red, and smashed windows and glass everywhere. It hasn’t been cleaned up and it is exactly how the shot was finalized. We walk into that moment of time. We all stuffed our pockets with this colored bread. Rolls, biscuits, and dyed bagels. We do not know what this show is about and I am like a detective. I am figuring that Soylent Green is food… that is what this set is about, hence the name.

At that moment, I see a call sheet on a table and that is a treasure. All the info I need to plan ahead. This is gold. I stuff it in my back pocket. Each pocket on my blue jeans is full. The Dirty Dozen has filled their pockets also. We are packing Soylent Green.

I fulfilled my obligation at this point. I delivered this group to a huge movie set and we are leaving with the coolest souvenirs, so that we can relive the whole event again, when this show comes out. Confidently, I walk out under the famous theater marquis that extends onto 5th avenue. This is the hub of New York street. You have seen it a million times.

This is the front of the theater street where this part begins…

I am still buzzed from our find, when I see, then hear… the Bronco speeding towards us… Oh darn! Decisions… decisions… everyone stares like a deer in the headlights.

Waiting on my move, I pivot and run back inside. A quick 180 degree had this group tripping all over themselves… literally, as everyone runs into each other. The Bronco is hauling ass. I reckon he’ll get out and run inside, lookin’ for us. But the guard stays behind the wheel and chases the one rogue kid that goes on his own. That would be Pat, my pal from St. Augustine.

He diverts the security away from The Dirty Dozen, and I use this moment to run quite a distance, to the fence. Fake palm trees are blocking the fence. They are laying flat, are tricky to navigate… if you’re scared. It appears this group is.

I sit on top of this section of old fence and survey my troops, when suddenly, there is a clowd of dust, a motor revving and a guard shouting, “STOP!” Low and behold …two gunshots!

Pat takes one for the team. Catholic boys are tough, mind you. Now a syndrome identified as rubber legs kicks in. None of these guys can climb, they are so scared. I climb back in to help a couple of guys get back out, I could have been home safe already.

Eveyone makes it, as they topple over to safety… like their life depended on it. We all run back to my place, minus one.

The bikes leave rapidly, in sucession, never to return. Their one memory of MGM. Enjoy your Soylent Green!… Any more volunteers?

I wait an hour, as the last bike operator arrives… Pat… safely. No blood, no holes, just a bit dirty.

I sit him down and pour him an ice cold Hawaiian Punch, then calmly ask…

“What just happend?”

This ravaged call sheet was in my back pocket during the chase.

All stories written and lived by Donnie Norden
Edited by DQ