I Share with you a story on this Windy Christmas Morning about a windy day on the MGM Backlot. Follow me knowing this -“If I run- you better run faster!”
Windy days on the backlot are exhilarating. The wind can choose to be gentle, romancing you into the peaceful backdrop, or she can irrationally shift her mood. You can hear the rustling when her temper gets riled up. My eyes get wide at her warning not knowing how tumultuous her fury may manifest itself. It’s wildly fun.
During the day, rooftop views are those of fairy tales. The distant villages and steeples have extra vibrancy, like a brand-new color TV. Chimneys on the cottage roofs endure another high velocity test. They still maintain their fake red brick storybook appearance.
Who’s peekin’ out from under a stairway
Calling a name that’s lighter than air
Who’s bending down to give me a rainbow
Everyone knows it’s Windy
Who’s tripping down the streets of the city
Smilin’ at everybody she sees
Who’s reachin’ out to capture a moment
Everyone knows it’s Windy
And Windy has stormy eyes
That flash at the sound of lies
And Windy has wings to fly
Above the clouds
-The Association
Earth, Wind and Fire are three elements. They have shaped not only this planet but also the backlots I traverse daily. When the wind howls at my house, it’s like an invitation to explore my backlot under conditions similar to war. All my friends know what I’m talking about. The wind opens up new horizons and changes the landscapes, then slams those same doors shut, all within seconds. Like some backlot magic act by invisible magicians.
The stirring breezes invite you, no words needed. It’s magic time on a backlot, cherishing the earth’s moods. The planet must feel exceptional today, every direction I turn is pure crystal blue persuasion. Accompanying sounds can be deciphered many ways. A mad influx of studio history mingles with the present-day vibrations. These vibrations resonate all around us. We enter this windy old place for an unplanned, spur of the moment afternoon…
Don’t be afraid…it’s just the wind!
The MGM sound department should record these haunted wisps. They conjure up so much imagination on windy days and nights on their ghoulish backlot. The winds kick up swirls of dust. It’s as if they are trying to recompose famous scenes that took place on these dirt and cobblestone roads. Ghostly images dance in period costumes. Spirits come and go through doorways as they wish. They magically disappear only to reappear in a window or archway across the way. It’s playtime, spirit wise, in this dream factory.
Every landscape, village, and courtyard come to life in its own unique style. Tall mature trees dance to whistling howls. Revolving doors on the fronts of New York Street try revolving. They muster up just enough energy to partially turn. But it’s plenty enough to scare any nearby trespasser. But this is the fun part, everything is alive inside here.
I imagine security has a hard time, noise-wise on patrols. It’s like kids are everywhere. At nighttime, I bet the guards are even a touch frightened. Strange goings on take command of the landscape. Old, decrepit walls often blow over. Even the arch on Combat Street met its fate from a very strong wind recently. The weather finished off what W.W 2 couldn’t.
Rooftops are supreme on these windy afternoons, the views are sharp, clear and priceless. The keys to my imagination are engaged, the breeze of MGM’s past filters through my lungs and into my brain. I never want this moment to fade away. This magic is what life’s about!
The wind only enhances what is always here. The spirits use the opportunity to present their pent-up energy and flirt with us. A glimpse, a feeling, a hint of where they want us to go next. Whose memory are we chasing? Is it The Little Rascals? Or perhaps Laurel and Hardy. We often feel them here with us. The wind is a stimulant and makes my senses keen. Wild eyed and willing to follow wherever they push us.
I think Rod Serling probably did exactly what Jimmy and my other friends do on these special spirited days. The Lee Marvin episode, The Grave, about outlaw Pinto Sykes seems inspired by a MGM backlot on a windy night. “Hey- is that Lee over there, with Battling Maxo?”
Anything and everything has happened here, the wind simply turns back pages in the MGM history book. The wind creates sound from past troubadours and whips them into spinning shapes that appear as fast as they disappear. Each page is its own story. It is its own place. It is not linked to a clock. It is just a magical place built with extreme imagination.
Writers often wander this lot for inspiration which can easily be drawn into their imaginations from these desolate villages. Every twist and turn is stirring in some way when you take a walk around this lot. You might jot down notes with a pencil and paper. Alternatively, you could talk into a cassette recorder. Many stories actually originate from inside here, from the backlot. It’s where they will be filmed so the saying, “You got to see it to be it”, applies here.
I’m caught in the MGM jet stream. It’s like I’m a character in a book or movie. The backlot will become my personal Genie in a Bottle, where all my wishes come true.
Curtains in ancient windows move about behind the dirty glass, like they’re exercising. Soon again, they will hang stagnant, like in a picture frame. But today is play day, like a ghostly, haunted Disneyland. Some fabrics dislodge from their present location with large gusts. They take flight back to the past, as if they are magic carpets. Romeo and Juliet’s balconies seem extremely active, as glass doors reverberate off the door jams. Eucalyptus trees bow under the pressure and leaves fly into the village below. The rustling trees blend in like musical instruments in the wind…
Doorways, rooftops, real windy-special effects
My best friend Jimmy and I enter today at the Grand Central Station, the train compartments are alive this afternoon. Curtains blow through windows that are open in these old Pullmans. They greet us by waving, full of exuberance, like an orient express. Everything on this lot is alive today with a little help…from the wind.
Next to the trains is the snow room, even the slightest breezes create blizzard-like conditions inside this old dungeon. We open the thick ancient door. We stare at a calm environment of stacked boxes. They face every direction and are packed with plastic snowflakes. A huge gust kicks this place back to life. It is as if Wizard Arnold Gillespie turned on a switch. I bet he’s in here laughing at us, MGM’s effects guru for four decades.
It’s windy and clear on the lot, but a snowstorm is underway in this storage facility. We shut the door and walk away from the weather effects we just created. No wind machines are needed today.
The first backlot cemetery I explored is located just beyond my original Hole in the Fence. It was also the first set I ever hid in. It is as spooky as any cemetery I’ve ever seen, day or night. A coffin sits waiting to be buried or maybe it was exhumed. I want to climb inside, but it has too many spiders, so I lay alongside the sarcophagus. Jimmy and I recreate our own graveyard scenes as blowing tumbleweeds bounce off tombstones. I laugh like a witch as Jimmy pretends to get killed. This is how we have fun. Watching TV shows and recreating cool scenes. We just happen to have our own graveyards.
Dirt blows into the sets adjacent to the many dusty roads that remind you you’re on an ancient lot. Most roads are dirt here. Cobblestone is the pavement of choice, except on New York Street. We often skateboard down the metropolis’ sidewalks, under the famous 5th Avenue marquees. Yes indeed, I’ve been chased on my skateboard. It’s plenty safe, faster than any guard, and portable to climb with. Tools of the advanced trespasser. The pavement here is smooth enough for a movie star…
New York Street is an orchestra on days like this. The rest of the lot is just a series of small clubs. This pales in comparison to all that takes place on this street of a thousand doors and windows. Today, we can slam doors if we wish, throw stealth out the window. We might as well have cymbals to smash together on large gusts. We try to imagine what we are hearing all around us, what sets have become active. So much is alive in this deserted, desolate landscape.
Look what the wind blew in...
The Bronco makes its first appearance of the day and drives slowly below us. A black sleeved left arm extends upward out of the window like the long arm of the law. The guard, Bronco Bob himself, clutches the top door of the vehicle. It safely passes by. He is unaware it has an audience above him.
“Will the wind ever remember the names it’s blown on in the past?” “Yes forever” they whisper to us; “the spirits will never leave here, and they enjoy your company”
The wind cries for Donnie, Jimmy and Maureen too-
Written and Lived by…Donnie Norden
Phantom of the Backlots 