The Incredible Eagle & Crane Barnstorming Spectacle
Ojai, California * September 14, 1941
Almost exactly one month later, Harry’s prediction came true. Around that time they had moved south, putting on their air show in airfields in Santa Maria, Solvang, and Santa Barbara. Word had begun to catch on about their show, and a reporter from a small local newspaper even wrote a little feature about Eagle & Crane. THE COMIC BOOK COME TO LIFE, the headline declared. But it was while they were performing at an airfield near the sunny town of Ojai that Louis and Harry had an unexpected encounter that suggested their show had caught the attention of “someone big,” as Harry had phrased it.
They had arrived a few days earlier at the little idyllic inland town, with its golden sunsets and its citrus groves and horse ranchers. Ojai was an appealing place, with mountains that rose high and jagged in the distance and a little colonial Spanish downtown. They had a three-day engagement there, and it was on the third and final day that the strange and unexpected event occurred.
With the barnstorming act concluded, the audience was taking its time shuffling away, milling around and socializing. Louis and Harry were still in their costumes but had set about packing their props away, when a skinny young man approached. He was dressed like an office errand boy and removed a newsboy cap to reveal hair so red he might’ve been Ava’s twin. He squinted into the sun as he drew near, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
“Howdy, fellas,” he said, addressing Louis chiefly. “May I have a word?”
Louis tried to size him up. The young man was about seventeen or thereabouts—close to Ava’s age—but he was tall and thin as a rail; his limbs were that particular sort of gangly that favors youth best. He was clutching one of the programs Ava handed out to people as she sold tickets. Louis had sketched up a sort of comic-book-style depiction of Eagle & Crane performing a few of their stunts and tricks, and every few towns Ava had copies printed—simple black ink on the cheapest paper they could find, a kind of yellowish-white newspaper.
It’s a way to get folks to remember Eagle & Crane, she had argued. We want people to pass along the name. If we’re lucky, some of them’ll even pass along their programs to their friends . . .
Now there was a stranger standing before them, clutching one of those programs with a slightly anxious expression. He was not unkempt per se, but there was something distinctly hungry-looking about him. He was the picture of raw ambition: a scrappy young man who’d grown up playing kick-the-can in the streets but now worked as a clerk’s assistant.
Maybe he wants an autograph, Louis thought, flattered. But then, more soberly, he considered, Or a job as a stuntman . . .
“I work for Buster Farrow,” the young man said now, clearing his throat and establishing a surprisingly businesslike air.
Louis and Harry blinked stupidly, saying nothing.
“I’m his third assistant,” the kid added, as though this new fact cleared things up. It was clear they were meant to be impressed. The young man’s head swiveled from face to face, reading the lack of comprehension that was written there.
“Buster Farrow?” he demanded, shocked. “Buster Farrow, the movie producer?”
“Oh,” Louis murmured. The name was vaguely familiar.
“Owner of three newspapers and Hollywood’s richest movie mogul?”
He waited. Nothing.
“Look, anyway,” the kid finally continued, shaking off his incredulity at Louis and Harry’s ignorance. “See here, fellas, you can give yourselves a good pat on the back, because Buster Farrow has heard about your show. He sent me to come find you two.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Harry said. “Why has he sent you to come find us?”
The young man sighed as though burdened by unfathomable exasperation.
“Because . . . he’s interested in your stuntman act,” he said.
Louis and Harry continued to blink, their faces blank.
“He wants to make arrangements to shoot some footage!” the young man exclaimed, sarcastically rapping on the side of his head with his knuckles to underscore the thick-skulled nature of his present audience. “You know . . . shoot some footage? Screen a reel? See if there’s anything there?”
“Anything there for what?” Harry asked.
“Why . . . to cast you as stuntmen!” The young man grinned but instantly relented, forfeiting a fraction of his enthusiasm. “He’s looking to make a new movie, something action-packed, and he’s gonna need one or two good stuntmen. He wants to put on a one-night-only event that showcases the best in the biz and see how they screen so he can make a decision.”
The young man was clearly tickled with the impressive nature of his own tidings. He paused and waited for all that he had said to sink in.
“So?” he pressed. “Are you interested?”
He reached into his pocket and produced a business card.
“All you gotta do is telephone this number here.” He pointed. “Tell ’em who you are and Farrow’s first assistant will explain all about how they want to get this thing on film.”
His hand remained outstretched, the card still waiting.
“Hey—snap out of it, eh? Are you interested, fellas?”
Louis and Harry found themselves every bit as tongue-tied and confused as when the conversation had first begun.
“What am I saying?” the young man chuckled. “Of course you’re interested.” He reached out to Louis as though to slip the business card into a breast pocket, but flailed briefly when he realized Louis was attired in a costume and therefore had no breast pocket. Awkwardly, the young man tucked the card into the neck of Louis’s costume and gave it a smug pat. “Of course you’re interested . . .”
His mission completed, he turned, preparing to depart. Thinking better of the situation, he twisted around and pointed to himself with one finger.
“Remember—the third assistant!” he hollered, reminding them with such pride, it made one wonder exactly how many assistants Buster Farrow had in total. “Tell ’em Reggie sent ya!” the kid added, and was gone.