Let’s see, the last time they presented the Oscars, and I
had seen all the movies nominated was April 10, 1972, a long time ago.
I remember it because I was dating my future wife at the
time. In fact, I think we were engaged. I had proposed to her atop a mountain
in West Little Rock at sunset, a romantic setting if I do say so myself. My
memory of the event was that she said. “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”
Her memory is that she said, “I don’t even have to think about it. Yes.”
Those who know us well can pick their own version.
Anyway, the fact that we were dating isn’t the only reason
that I had seen all the films. I was working, at the time, at Fifth (Capitol
Ave.) and Louisiana in downtown Little Rock. I lived at Fifth and State
streets, so I walked to work. I can still see the astonished look on the faces
of my co-workers when I told them this. None had ever heard of a person “walking
to work.” Was it even legal? Was I a hippie, or a drug-crazed sociopathic
Vietnam Veteran? Those were the only ones who walked the streets by choice and not
necessity. I declined to enlighten them. That reduced the amount of talking I
had to do.
At that time there were three movie houses within a few
blocks from where I worked: the Arkansas,
Capitol, and Center. Those showed all the first runs except those fit for the
big screen cinema out at Asher and University. The downtown ones had a “Happy
Hour” movie at around 5:30 each day. Admission was a dollar. Since the firm was
busy and most all workers went home for dinner and came back at 7:00 p.m. to
work a few more hours, I often opted to go to movies and have popcorn and a
coke for dinner, with entertainment.
So, I had seen all the movies that year, except for The Last Picture Show. I took my girlfriend to
see that one. She was underwhelmed.
I liked it. I had, upon separation from my beloved U.S.
Navy, decided to on a private study of literature. (On a salary of $400.00 a
month, reading, dollar movies, Pabst Blue
Ribbon beer, and chasing women on an empty pocketbook, constituted the bulk
of my entertainment). A detailed study of Eliot’s The Waste Land led me into so-called “Grail Literature,” so I
understood the classical themes within a simple film about a dying Texas land
that was losing its king (Sam the Lion played by Ben Johnson), and how the
health of a land was tied to the health of the king in classic “Wasteland
Literature.”
Bored yet? Okay. I’ll quit.
Let me just say something about the “chasing
women” part. I quit that. As Rick Bragg put it, “I found me one.”
So we watched the 44th presentation of the
Academy Awards together. A most interesting thing happened when Johnson won the
award for Best Supporting Actor. Controversy had invaded the Oscars (both
George C. Scott, for Patton, and
Marlon Brando, for something, had refused to accept theirs). So when Ben
Johnson held his award to his chest and announced that he was about to “say
something controversial,” Hollywood, braced itself.
In the some deadpan but meaning-filled manner in which his
characters had followed so many commands by John “I’m no hero but I played a
bunch in the movies” Wayne, Ben Johnson looked out at America, held his Oscar
for us to see, and said, “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”
True that, a nice guy, great actor, and someone who "marched to the beat of a different drummer."
It was a nice evening except that my girlfriend
threw a fit when The French Connection
barely beat out her favorite movie of all time—A Clockwork Orange.
After that, I always knew she also marched to a different beat.
 |
| Nice Guy, we need a few more of those in America now. |
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