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There are in our lives bookmarks that allow us to turn without effort to the pages of yesterday. Like cards and photographs and treasured scraps of paper inserted between the pages of an old family Bible, certain things open our memories to significant events in our past. Let someone say "November 22, 1963," and that date marks a page in our lives that opens instantly to where we were and what we were doing the day John Kennedy died. I remember it vividly. 2
That fall was quite eventful for me. I was visiting Mexico for the very first time, working as a "gofer" on a John Huston movie - The Night of the Iguana. I dreamed back then of becoming a famous journalist and my uncle persuaded Gabriel Figueroa, the film's cinematographer, to let me tag along and "take notes." Gabe agreed, providing that I would earn my board by fetching things like coffee in the morning and water to quench his film crew's thirst, or by carrying burdensome camera bags, or attending to anything else that needed to be done. I was excited! He was a brilliant photographer who knew more about shooting a movie than any man I'd ever met. It came as no surprise to me when he won an Oscar nomination for his work on that film. 3
I remember discovering on my first day in Mexico an eccentric side to Gabe Figueroa. After a harrowing landing in a small plane on a cow pasture that served as the Puerto Vallarta air field, we were driven into town over a bumpy cobblestone road by a local driver I can only describe as a madman. He screeched to a stop at the small Oceano Hotel where we rushed straight to the bar. Gabe immediately slugged down a few tequilas - no doubt to help him shake off the trauma of our bumpy landing and death defying ride into town. As he drank, he began to sing to us. Normally he was a somewhat quiet and sedate man, but he belted out an opera aria at the top of his lungs. The more he drank, the louder he sang, until five shots into the bottle his bellowing voice could be heard all up and down the Malecon. He had no inhibitions about it at all. The Mexicans who strolled along the seawalk on an otherwise serene Sunday evening looked up to the open balcony of the Oceano where our proud cinematographer treated the town to his favorite Italian opera. We discovered that once he began to drink and sing, shutting him up was impossible. He was still bellowing at the top of his lungs when we half-carried him to his room and dumped him into bed. Over the weeks to come, he repeated this ritual every time he drank. Tequila and full-volume opera - Gabriel Figueroa became famous for this in Puerto Vallarta in the fall of 1963. 4
The movie was filmed in a remote Pacific beach location called Mismaloya, about ten miles south of town. The set was so isolated it could be reached only by boat, and what an exciting time those boat rides were for me. I was surrounded by big-time Hollywood stars - Richard Burton, Elizabeth Taylor, Ava Gardner, Deborah Kerr, and Sue Lyon - the 17-year-old vixen who played Lolita. John Huston, the famous director, dominated the scene. Tennessee Williams, the playwright, stumbled in and out of our midst, constantly bitching about the intense heat. He always had his little black poodle Gigi with him, and he swore she was having sunstrokes the whole time she was in Mexico. 5
One Friday afternoon shooting wrapped for the week and our little flotilla of boats carried us back to Puerto Vallarta. As we glided along the primitive shoreline, a festive party mood infected us all. I sat aboard The Taffy, the yacht Burton rented to carry his former Cleopatra co-star back and forth like the Egyptian queen on her Nile River barge. We broke into song, accompanied by mariachi music as we swigged down tequila. Ava Gardner water-skied behind us in her own motorboat with Tony, her Mexican beach boy "attendant." John Huston got stinking drunk with Burton on raicilla, a paralyzingly potent local cactus brandy. Burton remarked that if you drank the raicilla straight down, "you can feel it going into each individual intestine." Huston told him it was because they left the cactus needles in it. 6
Suddenly we spotted Ray Stark's ocean-going yacht approaching us from out in Banderas Bay. Stark, the producer of Iguana, often sailed down from Los Angeles during those weeks to check on the filming of the movie. Everyone cheered wildly as he came alongside The Taffy. We had no radios or telephones in Mismaloya, and certainly no televisions, so we had heard nothing that day. But Ray Stark had picked up the terrible newsflash aboard his yacht: John Kennedy had been gunned down during a motorcade in Dallas, Texas that afternoon. The President was dead. 7
When Stark announced this news to us, the air of drunken cheerfulness aboard our boat instantly dissolved into shocked silence and sobriety, and then into tears. I remember that silent boat ride back to Puerto Vallarta as though it happened only yesterday. It was one of the saddest days of my life, and one of the most shameful. Born and raised in Dallas, I took the assassination in my hometown very personally. It was years before I got over it. 8
Author notes
I remember November 22, 1963 very vividly. Thought I'd share it with you on this significant day... This story is actually from a larger work I'm writing, an historical-fiction piece about the filming of the movie "The Night of the Iguana."
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
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It has just occurred to me that it's no longer true that "everyone" remembers where they were when they heard that Kennedy got shot, though that was a cliche for a long time (yes, even in Canada.) It was a pivotal moment. It was not only the death of a president, but the official start of "The Sixties" of infamy.
I was in a sixth grade classroom when Mrs. Millie came in and made the announcement. I remember her face looked really white. She told us to go home for the rest of the day, and since it was still morning here, that seemed like a pretty good deal to us. We went home to our mothers glued to the TV, with those rounded black-and-white snowy images. The importance of the event took some time to register in the mind of a kid.
The next year we saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan on the same TV, and wasn't life grand then? (Paul was my first crush....)
Your story is fascinating. You have a direct style that makes it easy and pleasurable to read. I wouldn't change a thing. Your last paragraph hints at more to come, and this reader would, after that, make her habitual mistake of reading "just another page" until the wee hours of the morning, and thereby ruin tomorrow.
Thanks for the memories. (You're good for that, among other things.)
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It certainly is a write worth reading... though I wasn't alive when this happened, having been born and raised a Texan and reading everything I can get my hands on about this affair certainly does bring this close to home... Thank you for sharing, and continue writing! I enjoyed this little excerpt.
Silent
Roses
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This is a very enjoyable, interesting read; I'm most impressed with the way you've selected and presented the details: starting with the necessary background info on yourself, moving straight to Gabe, who is obviously the protagonist of the piece and that episode in your life, widening things to include those famous movie stars (tapping thereby into a wider cultural scope), then finishing off with a world-shattering event.
Very skilfully done
Another great element in this piece is the way you've used real names. Obviously, this is an advantage of non-fictional writing but you go that extra mile to make your reader feel like an insider. Very Hemingway
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i enjoyed the read.
a llittle at a loss not being from the right era or country to feel any sentiment over jfk, but your story was touching none the less.
much respect.
la-. -
thanks, Red, for taking time to read this. I appreciate your comments. I'll try to bring more stories to this site. I've been neglecting my prose writing since I began writing poetry last year.
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thanks for the critique, Danna. it is very helpful - especially the observation about using dialogue to put the reader into the story. dialogue is one of my strengths in writing. you've hit right on the biggest problem with the longer piece from which this story was taken:
my work approach to writing the hitorical-fiction piece about the filming of Night of the Iguana was to research and learn everything I could, outline what I wanted to include in the piece, create a couple of characters to add into the mix, and start fleshing it all in... which is where it stands now. the result is exactly what you point out in this story - I haven't put in the dialogue or let the characters "show" the events rather than the narrator "telling" the events. perhaps I should start with this piece as a stand alone story and fix it first.
I really appreciate your help on this, Danna! this is exactly the kind of criticism I need. -
Wow Travis you are quite the story writer. You did an exquisite job of this one. Thank you for the glimpse into that lifestyle. Very well penned, I am looking forward to reading more.
Red -
shutting him up was impossible. He was still bellowing at the top of his lungs when we half-carried him to his room and dumped him into bed... this made me laugh out loud, Travis... wonderful!
He always had his little black poodle Gigi with him, and he swore she was having sunstrokes the whole time she was in Mexico... this is a great story... I don't know if it is your style or not, but you could actually put your readers into this picture by slipping into a little dialogue. You could set it up by saying something like: Quite often Tennessee Williams was seen stumbling onto the set, and I would always hear him, "This heat is so intense, I swear it's going to give Gigi a sunstroke," as he'd hold the little black poodle... or something along those lines... it would put your reader right there, but then, I am no expert, so anything I say that doesn't fit your needs, just forget it.
Burton remarked that if you drank the raicilla straight down, "you can feel it going into each individual intestine." Huston told him it was because they left the cactus needles in it... this is great stuff! I am learning so much as well!
certainly no televisions, so we had heard nothing that day.... just so you know, I gasped and put my hand over my mouth when I read this part... in anticipation of what was coming.
Born and raised in Dallas, I took the assassination in my hometown very personally. It was years before I got over it... I think we can all relate to the feelings you had that day, even though I was three years from being born when Kennedy was assasinated... I think the feelings were similar to those experienced by the nation when the towers melted or the shuttle exploded (the first one... it was not as much of a shock the second time) the feelings that we had when Diana and JFK Jr. died, utter shock, and a sense of how powerless we really are.
Great piece, Travis... thank you for putting it here for us to read.
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John, thanks so much for taking the time to read this and make a comment! really appreciated!
I haven't worked on this piece since last summer. I started
writing poetry in august and abandoned my prose writing. but
I'm just now getting back to it. I'll try to keep you updated
as I go back to working on the longer piece.
thanks again for the read!
and a pleasure to meet you!
- travis -
thank you J. I appreciate the compliment!
you ask is this true? well, it's historical-fiction,
and I can only say what Mark Twain said when asked about
the authenticity and accuracy of his diary: "If this ain't
the way it happened, it's the way it should have happened!"
if and when I finish the longer piece, I'll be sure to ask
you to read it. but it's coming slow right now.
thanks again! -
That's one hell of an excerpt. I am now dying to read the whole thing. I understand all about stories written from the first person perspective, but I am still wondering: Is this true? It just has an air of authenticity to it that I find rare even in stories written in the first. Maybe because I read a lot of horror, who knows. As for your comment about this not being what I'd expect from you, I expect nothing from you because you can write about everything. That's a compliment by the way. Before I begin rambling too much I will go. But I liked this, you must let me read the finished product.
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