he: A Novel(72)

But Babe thinks that maybe if Perry Fowler is foiled, Aggie Underwood will let him be. Babe Hardy at a racetrack is no news without a picture to go with it.

Perry Fowler asks Babe for permission to take a photograph, which is, at least, good manners. Babe supposes that even Perry Fowler recognizes the necessity of some social graces at Santa Anita.

But Babe does not want his picture taken, not today.

No, says Babe, I’m busy.

Goddamn Aggie Underwood appears, and now it’s two against one.

Come on, Mr. Hardy, says Aggie Underwood, just a smile for the Herald-Express.

Babe thinks of Hal Roach. The last thing Hal Roach needs is someone from William Randolph Hearst’s office bitching about access, and then someone from MGM, with which William Randolph Hearst is in partnership for Metrotone newsreels, bitching about William Randolph Hearst bitching. If Babe gives them their picture, then they’ll go away, and Babe can return to losing money and mourning the ongoing tragedy of his marriage.

Just one, Babe says.

Babe tries to compose his features into some semblance of jollity. The process is still ongoing – under his current personal circumstances, these things take time – when Perry Fowler asks if Babe is accompanied by his wife or daughter, which means that Perry Fowler is confusing Babe with his partner.

– Maybe they’d like to be in the picture, too, Mr Hardy. You know, a family shot.

Not this, Babe thinks, not now.

Don’t ask so many goddamn questions, Babe says.

Which is out of character for Babe, and no mistake.

On another day, Perry Fowler might simply chalk this up to experience, take the picture, and go looking for someone else to bother. But this is not that day, because Perry Fowler is not happy to be growled at by some fat fuck comic.

Don’t get so goddamn tough about it, says Perry Fowler.

Babe Hardy is a big man. Perry Fowler has always understood this in the abstract sense, because everyone is made smaller by the viewfinder of Perry Fowler’s camera, but as Babe rises up before him, Perry Fowler understands it in the concrete sense, too.

You listen to me, Babe says. I’m sick of goddamn shutterbugs like you who won’t give a man a moment’s peace. Put the goddamn camera away.

Babe’s glare takes in Aggie Underwood, whose pen has now frozen somewhere above her notebook.

You’re all the same, Babe continues. You have no respect for people. You write what you want, snap what you want, and never give a thought to what you’re doing. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.

Perry Fowler has also frozen, which means that his camera remains pointing at Babe, a fact that Babe now recognizes.

So Babe hits Perry Fowler.

It’s not a hard blow: open-handed, on the shoulder. It pushes Perry Fowler back a couple of steps. Perry Fowler has been hit before – it comes with the territory – but never by a comic.

Now Babe speaks softly but clearly to Perry Fowler.

– I said put down that camera, or I’ll throw you over the rail and break your goddamn neck.

The rail is only a few feet away. It’s not a long drop, but it’s not a short one either, and it’s onto cement. The fall will almost certainly break Perry Fowler’s goddamn neck, but Perry Fowler isn’t about to let that happen. Instead, Perry Fowler is going to knock Babe Hardy’s block off.

Except Aggie Underwood steps between them and pulls Perry Fowler away, because if a photographer hits a star at Santa Anita then so much hellfire will descend that even William Randolph Hearst himself won’t be able to put out the blaze.

It’s okay, Aggie Underwood says, we didn’t want your picture anyway.

Then why, roars Babe, not unreasonably, did you goddamn ask for it?

But they’re leaving now, and that should be the end of it, except Babe’s blood is up, and Babe’s day is ruined, and Babe is still married to Myrtle, and the bell has just gone for the next race, and goddamn it, goddamn it all.

Punk! Babe shouts.

At Perry Fowler.

And maybe, Babe later admits, at himself.

Aggie Underwood tells Babe not to make the situation worse by calling people names.

I didn’t call anyone any names, Babe replies, already rowing back. I said ‘punk’, and that still goes.

But the storm is passing, and Babe is regretting ever having opened his mouth. The only consolation is that the confrontation has occurred away from others. Aggie Underwood and Perry Fowler depart. Babe goes back to his racing form, but can no longer concentrate.

Babe shouldn’t have used the word ‘punk’.

Cappy Marek, the city editor of the Herald-Express, calls Babe’s publicist. Cappy Marek makes it clear that William Randolph Hearst doesn’t like his staff being abused by stars, and reminds the publicist that they all need to go along to get along.

Babe is summoned to the publicity office. Babe denies calling Perry Fowler a punk. This may or may not be true, but Babe has convinced himself that it is. If Babe uttered the word ‘punk’, then its use was meant in the universal sense, but it is a mess, and a mess mostly of Babe’s own creation.

They sit across from each other in the dressing room, he and Babe. Babe looks like a sadder version of his screen self. It makes Babe appear both more and less real. Babe has written to Cappy Marek, giving his side of the story. It’s not an apology, more a grudging acknowledgement of fault on both sides. It will have to suffice. Cappy Marek isn’t getting any more than this.