he: A Novel(82)

Ben Shipman is growing weary of watching a man chase dust.

If you tell me that you’re getting married again, says Ben Shipman, I’ll have to shoot you. But what nuptials do you have left to try: a Hindu ceremony, or some tribal thing with bones? You gonna convert, maybe, you and her, ger and giyoret, picking your Hebrew names? Go on, do the impossible: shock me.

He has the words in his head, sitting here before Ben Shipman, but he cannot bring himself to initiate this roundelay again. Perhaps he should call the Dancing Master to instruct him. There may be new steps with which he is, as yet, unfamiliar.

Ben Shipman considers pouring them both a drink, but Ben Shipman does not wish to compound part of the problem.

This is what I have to say to you, says Ben Shipman. You are probably my best friend in the world. I swear, sometimes I even feel bad taking money from you, but I recover and move on. So I believe I can say this to you, in all friendship: you are making an ass of yourself. Your house smells like cleaning-out time at the King Eddy, and sounds like a rooming house for chorus girls. You are ruining your health, and jeopardizing your career, and all because of this woman who gives her entire sex a bad name. If you choose to spend the rest of your life with her, it will be a short one, and poor. If you want to know what she’s going to look like in twenty years’ time, you have only to glance at the Countess, or whatever she is, and that should satisfy any lingering curiosity you might have on the subject. To tell you nothing more or less than the truth, you are acting like a goddamned fool. That’s all I have to say. Now, talk to me.

Ben Shipman sits back in his chair. Ben Shipman hopes that the bluntness of his words does not represent a catastrophic error of judgment.

I can’t afford to get another divorce, he says.

– You can’t afford not to get another divorce. This woman will kill you. She may kill herself first, but we don’t have time to play those odds.

– So what should I do?

First, says Ben Shipman, we start separation proceedings.

– And second?

– Second, we sue Hal Roach.





160


It is not pretty, what ensues.

Vera, Countess Sonia, and Roy Randolph, the Dancing Master, all announce their intention to stand fast. Vera tries to take him to bed. When he refuses, she attempts to get him drunk first and then take him to bed. When this fails, she gets herself drunk and commences singing Russian folk songs of the most maudlin kind, while Countess Sonia and Roy Randolph lament in harmony with her.

But in November 1938, he and Vera separate. He is, it seems, to return to court, with his latest failings made public.

Babe calls. Babe is working on the picture with Harry Langdon. The newspapers are reporting that Hal Roach has offered Harry Langdon a seven-year contract, and Babe and Harry Langdon are to be signed for a series. The pictures will be based, Hal Roach announces, on important novels, whatever this may mean. The age of slapstick is over and Hal Roach, like Mussolini, desires to be taken seriously.

How’s the picture going? he asks Babe.

– They’ve changed the title. It’s now called It’s Spring Again.

– What was it called before?

– This Time It’s Love.

– They’re not very good titles.

– Well, it’s not a very good picture.

– That’s all right, then. As long as you’re not engaged in false advertising.

– I’m not sure that truth in advertising is one of Hal’s priorities.

– Don’t worry. You’ll be great in it.

There is a silence on the line, but it communicates pain and regret.

I know, he says, in response to words unspoken. I miss it all.

This business with Harry – Babe begins.

– Look, I understand. You have to make a living. I don’t hold it against either of you.

– No, listen: I don’t think it’s going to work out.

– What?

– Hal has seen the rushes. Hal’s not happy. United Artists isn’t happy either. It didn’t sign on for Langdon and Hardy.

This is the first piece of good news he’s received in months. He has not wished for Babe’s picture to fail because he does not want Babe’s career to suffer, but if the picture is a success then he may never again see the Hal Roach lot, and he may never again work with Babe. Hal Roach Studios may not be perfect, just as Hal Roach may not be perfect, but it is his home. On the other hand, he is about to sue Hal Roach for breach of contract. But if Langdon and Hardy appear unlikely to last, then Hal Roach may be more inclined to settle the suit.

Thanks for letting me know, he says.

– Be seeing you.

– I hope so. I really do.





161


At the Oceana Apartments, he recreates this call in his mind.

Babe, who revealed great kindness in a small gestures.

Babe, who became more Southern at such moments, his natural courtliness finding a complement in his voice.

Babe, who could simply have telephoned Ben Shipman to tell him of the problems with Harry Langdon, and the unlikelihood of the partnership succeeding.

Babe, who almost certainly would have been forced to contact Ben Shipman sooner or later, if only in order to avoid further contractual difficulties down the line.

Babe, who called him instead.