Monday, February 23, 2009

The Curious Case of F. Scott Fitzgerald (Oscars)

By Jack Engelhard

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s last royalty check came to around $4.85. In the beginning (with the publication of “This Side of Paradise”) he was America’s literary darling. In the end, practically everybody gave up on him. Hollywood snubbed him. His wife, Zelda, died in an insane asylum. Only his lover, the columnist Sheila Graham, remained loyal.

The author of “The Great Gatsby” -- the prince of novels in our literary kingdom – died forgotten, a self-perceived failure.

Today, even Hollywood appreciates him. A short story of his, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,” was turned into a movie and won two Oscars at last night’s Academy Awards. Too bad he’s dead. Fitzgerald could have used some of that love when he was still alive. He got nothing but scorn.

This may well typify the life of a novelist in Hollywood, or the life of a novelist, period. How we glorify our artists usually too late!

Fitzgerald – in his novels and short stories – is the man we turn to for sentences that sing. But after “Paradise” and even after “Gatsby” he teetered from rejection to rejection. He tried Hollywood and got himself a credit for one movie, something called “Three Comrades.” He was hired on to do some tinkering for “Gone With The Wind” but his tinkering was too much. Nobody touches Margaret Mitchell. He was escorted off the set.

He kept going back to ask for any kind of screen work, even “additional dialogue,” just to pay the bills.

He placed himself at the mercy of a particular Hollywood tycoon. “Tell me what to write and I’ll write it,” he pleaded.

“Me?” said the boss. “I should tell F. Scott Fitzgerald how to write?”

His last work, still unfinished, has been published as “The Last Tycoon.” It’s about Hollywood. Some say that even though it’s unpolished it may still be the finest novel ever about Hollywood. That honor must be shared with Nathanael West who gave us Hollywood unwashed in “The Day of the Locust.”

Nathanael West was killed in a car accident en route to Fitzgerald’s funeral – as if to prove the Hollywood jinx for true novelists.

Fitzgerald spoofed Hollywood in a series of short pieces collected as “The Pat Hobby Stories.” These vignettes that are about a hack always in search of an angle, are delightful and often hilarious. They spoof Hollywood without malice, but we get the message. They do not belong in the Fitzgerald canon because they’re so un-Fitzgerald-like, written somewhat in the style of Damon Runyon and Ring Lardner. But they were written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, so even when he tried to write flip, he still could not write a bad sentence.

Hemingway kept after Fitzgerald to write “true” and to refrain from the pursuit of money. But Fitzgerald was always desperate. The boozing didn’t help. Hemingway was especially critical when Fitzgerald put words to his own disgust, despair and melancholy in “The Crack Up,” a still underappreciated but sterling work of art. This reads like a follow-up to King Solomon's "Ecclesiastes" and is Fitzgerald at his best, like the following:

“I must continue to be a writer because that was my only way of life, but I would cease any attempts to be a person – to be kind, to be generous… The decision made me rather exuberant…I felt like the beady-eyed men I used to see on the commuter train from Great Neck fifteen years back – men who didn’t care whether the world tumbled into chaos tomorrow if it spared their houses. I was one of them now.”

No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t one of them, much as he tried. He left us the glory of his writing. Hollywood finally came around.

Too bad he’s dead.

About the author: Novelist Jack Engelhard wrote the international bestselling novel “Indecent Proposal” that was translated into more than 22 languages and turned into a Paramount motion picture starring Robert Redford and Demi Moore. His latest novel, now available in paperback, is “The Bathsheba Deadline.” He can be reached at his website www.jackengelhard.com.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Panhandling the Airwaves -- Again

By Jack Engelhard

This morning I turned on the radio just to find out how the "fund drive" is going at that classical music station provided by Temple University. I was shocked and awed by what I heard -- music! Imagine that, music coming from a music station instead of all that pleading for money.

A while back, I watched the two-hour documentary on FDR on my local PBS outlet (WHYY, I think it is) and was impressed, so impressed that it hurts me to knock public programming. PBS offers many other specials that I value- such as Live From Lincoln Center -so it still hurts to say what I have to say, such as:

How many times a year do I have to pay Bill Moyers' salary?

Even as we speak, our public broadcasting networks are at it again in what's known as their "pledge drives." Here we call it begging.

This gripe isn't just about those people who operate our national airwaves. The locals do it, too, as I've just mentioned, like the (radio) classical music station in my neck of the country, which stopped the music, except for a minute of Bach here and there, to remind us to SEND MONEY, otherwise no more Beethoven. They do go on like this hour after hour without shame and cajole us with "memberships" and "gifts."

I also need money -- but can I go around the neighborhood, imploring, begging, beseeching?

Can I go on radio or television asking, demanding, that you please pay for my writing, otherwise no more novels?

I wouldn't do it even if I could. That would be humiliating.

(We won't discuss the radical left agenda that's imposed on listeners and viewers as "a public service." That's another column.)

As I understand it, public broadcasting - the national ones for radio and TV - get millions every year from the government; in other words, our tax dollars at work. Yes, millions -- and in addition there's money coming in from corporate sponsors, philanthropic sponsors and "from viewers like you."

That doesn't seem to be enough. It's never enough. Salaries must be paid! (Some of these salaries are pretty fat.) Thus everything stops so that all these announcers, men and women of distinction, can plead for assistance - and "pick up the phone and dial in your pledge right now!" Am I the only one who finds this unseemly? Is this ethical? Why is it legal?

If these same TV and radio personalities used the same pitch on the street, they'd be arrested for panhandling.

Many shops and businesses post signs that say: "No soliciting on these premises."

That should be the rule for our airwaves as well, which we own. The word is "public."

Personally I'm not against begging as long as it comes from the poor, not the rich.

Back to the local scene, we have something that passes for public radio and those aren't "commercials" that interrupt the music even in the best of times - meaning when there's no beg-a-thon in progress - no, we have no bananas and we have no commercials; what we have are Public Service Announcements.

These PSAs (I assume) are never paid through money, or anything as untidy as that, but rather through "donations." See the difference?

(I also like the word "endowment" in place of "show me the money.")

We already have a hundred different networks by a click of the remote and these operations pay themselves the old fashioned way - by running recognizable commercials, like my favorites on weight loss, male enhancement remedies and "it's all about the beer." True, these spots damage the brain by popping up as frequently as they do so that we've become a nation of robots that cannot maintain a stream of thought for more than seven minutes. That's the attention span of one set of commercials to the next.

However - that's business. Commercial networks make no claim that they're providing "a public service."

They do not run as charities.

I'm big on charities. I give. How does national public radio or television figure as charity - especially with all the cash derived from the government and other sources?

If they can't make it with all that, maybe it's time for these programmers to get a real job, like the rest of us.

Jack Engelhard latest novel, THE BATHSHEBA DEADLINE, now available in paperback, places journalism at the center of our war on terror. Engelhard wrote the international bestselling novel INDECENT PROPOSAL that was translated into more than 22 languages and turned into a Paramount motion picture starring Robert Redford and Demi Moore. Indecent Proposal He accepts "endowments" only through actual sales of his books. No begging. He can be reached at his website www.jackengelhard.com

Friday, February 6, 2009

How The Mighty Keep Falling (Like Phelps)

By Jack Engelhard

Is this payback for ingratitude?

As we all know, the hero of the recent Olympics is (was!) Michael Phelps, and he did it all in the water. He won eight gold medals at the 2008 Games, finally surpassing the previous record of seven held by Mark Spitz. Those were the headlines of a short time ago. Today’s headlines remind us that no one is perfect.

Phelps was caught smoking marijuana. Give him credit. He doesn’t deny. But he’s already been tarnished, first by reputation, and now by finance. Kellog just announced that it will not renew its endorsement contract with him, other sponsors are on the verge, and the Olympic Committee has suspended him for three months. He will lose millions.

Yes, how the mighty have fallen – and so fast!

Now, instead of touring the nation and the world as a hero, he’s all over the place apologizing.

There is no joy in this. He seems like a good kid, and no doubt he is still a great athlete, the most gifted swimmer in the world.

But something strange happened at those Olympics, which may explain why all this bad karma happened.

Even before the swimming events began, the talk was about Phelps – Phelps and only Phelps – as if the other members of the USA swim team didn’t even exist.

Certainly, no one talked about Jason Lezak.

Yet, Lezak’s performance made it all possible for Phelps. For that one shining moment, Lezak was as much a hero as Phelps, but Lezak never got the credit or the publicity or even the thanks. To get that record for Phelps of EIGHT Gold Medals during a single Olympics, a team effort was required for the 4x100 meter freestyle relay.

Lezak ran the anchor. (Sorry. Don’t know much about swimming. I’m much more comfortable using racetrack terms.) Lezak, in other words, was last in the water, and he was up against the champion and world record holder from France, Alain Bernard, who had already bragged that he would win – and it sure looked like it from the start.

The Frenchman beat Lezak at the bell and kept improving all the way around. At the final lap, Bernard was pulling away length by length, so much so that the announcers were already saying it was over; USA would do no better than silver. Phelps would have to settle for seven gold medals, forget eight.

This was indeed expected, for Lezak was the oldest member of the team. He was 33, an “old man” by swimming standards. True, he was a champion in his own right. But all those records were from long ago, when he was young. Too bad. But then, nearing the wire, it became Affirmed meets Alydar.

Just when it seemed that Lezak was slipping back, had no more to give, this California kid, swimming for the USA, swimming for his team, swimming for Michael Phelps – Lezak found new heart, new soul, new guts, a new gear, and drew up to Bernard to achieve, in split seconds, what seemed impossible. Could he actually catch up to the French champ?

Could this “has-been” actually BEAT the boastful French Champ?

Yes he can! Yes he did!

Lezak won the gold for himself, for his team, for his country, and guaranteed the Olympic record for Phelps.

But here’s the kicker. In all this hoopla, hardly any mention was made of Lezak. The news media was still focused entirely on Phelps. Lezak was still an afterthought.

I don’t recall Phelps praising or even thanking Lezak, Backstage, perhaps, but publicly, Phelps took all the credit for himself.

He did acknowledged Lezak, but only for a moment, and he had to be asked. He didn’t volunteer his gratitude.

I still say that Phelps is a good kid. He made a mistake with the marijuana. He deserves to be forgiven. Come on, we’re a nation that has a heart.

But – are we witnessing a form of poetic justice from above?

Novelist Jack Engelhard, author of “The Bathsheba Deadline” and “Indecent Proposal” can be reached at his website www.jackengelhard.com.