by Stan
“C.B.?” said Brother.
“Cecil Bear DeMille,” said Bonnie. “That’s what everybody who knows him calls him.”
“But you don’t know him,” Brother pointed out. “At least, not yet.”
“Oh, but I do,” said Bonnie. “I just talked to him on the phone.”
“Awesome!” said Babs. “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘They tell me you ought to be in pictures, kid,’” said Bonnie. “Then he asked me if I thought I could handle such a big role. I told him I could handle anything he threw at me—that I could even stand in for Vivian Brie if necessary. That made him laugh. I think he likes me! Just think, guys: working for Cecil Bear DeMille, the greatest movie director of all time! This is my big break! I mean, TV commercials are fine, but Lost with the Wind . . .!”
Just then, Queenie came running up. “I got it!” she said. “I got the part!”
“Oh, really?” said Ferdy.
“No, O’Reilly,” said Queenie. “Heather O’Reilly, Rose O’Beara’s best friend.”
“How exciting!” said Babs. “Hey, let’s all go to the Burger Bear to celebrate. Milkshakes all ’round! I’m buying!”
Everyone nodded eagerly. Except Bonnie. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I’d like to come, but I can’t.”
Brother gave her a disappointed look. “You mean you’re gonna turn down a free milkshake?”
“Clark Grizzle and Vivian Brie are on their way from Hollywood right now,” said Bonnie. “The casting director asked me if I’d like to go with him to meet their plane in Big Bear City. And, of course, I said yes!”
Queenie nearly crushed Bonnie with a hug. “You lucky girl!” she cooed. “Clark Grizzle and Vivian Brie!”
“Well, we could postpone the celebration until tonight,” suggested Brother.
“Tonight?” said Bonnie. “Oh, no, I can’t. Rehearsals start day after tomorrow, and I’ve got a ton of lines to learn.”
“Tomorrow for lunch?” said Brother weakly.
“Tomorrow I’m having lunch with Clark, Vivian, and C.B.,” said Bonnie. “C.B.’s flying in tomorrow morning, you know. Oh, I’d better go back in; I forgot to pick up my script! And we’re leaving right away for the airport . . .” She hurried into the school without even saying good-bye.
Queenie gazed dreamily after Bonnie. “That girl’s headed for stardom,” she sighed. “And she’s gonna leave the rest of us far, far behind . . .”
Chapter 5
Lights . . . Camera . . . Action!
Brother was upset at first about Bonnie ignoring him and her other friends. But he realized she had a really big role that would require a lot of work. He knew that down deep, she was the same old Bonnie who cared about her friends. And he was sure that when Saturday night came around, she would keep their regular weekly movie date. There would be no rehearsal or shoot on Sunday, so Bonnie wouldn’t be so pressed for time to practice her lines on Saturday night.
Even if Brother hadn’t calmed himself down about Bonnie, his disappointment might have been blown away by the sheer excitement of the first day of rehearsal. The first scene to be rehearsed was a love scene between Rett Cutler and Scarlett O’Beara. To be specific, it was a kissing scene—the most romantic scene in the movie, with a long, passionate kiss framed by a long, passionate close-up. That might seem a little odd, since kissing scenes rarely start movies. But, you see, movies aren’t shot in sequence. All kinds of factors—money, weather, and actors’ and actresses’ health, just to name a few—determine the order in which scenes are shot. Later, the scenes are put into the right order by the director and the film editors.
Everyone assembled for the kissing scene. Cecil Bear DeMille, megaphone in hand and beret on head, was perched on the high director’s chair with MR. DEMILLE printed across the back. Clark Grizzle and Vivian Brie were lounging in lower chairs that also had their names on them. A bunch of lighting, sound, and camera equipment and their operators surrounded and overhung the small patch of ground at the edge of Birder’s Woods where the scene was to take place. And surrounding all that were about a hundred Beartown folks who had come out to watch. Most of them were chattering excitedly.
Mr. DeMille raised his megaphone and boomed, “Quiet on the set!” Instantly, the only sound left was the singing of birds in the nearby woods. When the greatest movie director in Bear Country spoke, you listened! Especially when he spoke through a megaphone.
“Players, take your places,” said DeMille. Clark Grizzle and Vivian Brie moved to the center of the set.
It was at that point that Brother Bear, who was kneeling on the ground next to the camerabear, noticed an old orange crate on the ground right next to Clark Grizzle. “Psst!” he said to the camerabear. “Someone forgot to clear the orange crate!”
“Don’t worry, kid,” the camerabear said over his shoulder. “It’s for Mr. Grizzle to stand on while he’s kissing Ms. Brie. Can’t you see he’s a full head shorter than she is? The whole scene is a close-up on their faces, so the crate won’t show up in the movie.”
Then the driver on the back of his motorized camera platform took it right up to the two actors. Clark Grizzle stepped up onto the orange crate and embraced Vivian Brie.
“Okay, Bill?” said DeMille.
“Ready when you are, C.B.,” replied the camerabear.
The bear with the clacker jumped in front of the camera. “Scene thirty-eight, take one,” he said, then clacked his clacker and stepped out of the camera’s view.
“All right,” said DeMille. “Lights . . . camera . . . action!”
Grizzle and Brie stared soulfully into each other’s eyes. Their lips met. Then there was a loud CRACK! Suddenly, Grizzle was a full head shorter than Brie again.
“Cut!” cried DeMille.
It took a couple of seconds for the crowd to realize what had happened. Then they burst into laughter. Clark Grizzle was no longer standing on the orange crate. He was standing in the orange crate, whose top slats had cracked and given way under his feet.
“Get another crate!” barked DeMille. “And test it this time!”
“No more crates, C.B.,” said a young bear who was running madly back and forth.
“Then get a chair, you idiot!” growled DeMille.
“Right away, C.B.!” said the prop bear, and disappeared into the crowd. He returned moments later with a wooden chair.
“Quiet on the set!” said DeMille. “Players, take your places.”
Clark Grizzle mounted the chair and embraced Vivian Brie.
“Okay, Bill?” said DeMille.
“Ready when you are, C.B.,” came the answer.
The clacker bear reappeared. “Scene thirty-eight, take two.” Clack!
“All right,” said the director. “Lights . . . camera . . .”
But before he could say, “Action!” the chair Grizzle was standing on collapsed, sending the actor head over heels. He landed smack on his face in the grass. The crowd laughed hilariously as he stumbled to his feet, picking grass stems from between his teeth.
“You nincompoop!” yelled DeMille at the trembling prop bear. “That’s a breakaway chair for the barroom brawl scene! Get a real chair! Pronto!”
But pronto wasn’t quick enough. Clark Grizzle, scowling at the still laughing crowd, roared, “Shut up, you bunch of hicks!” and stomped off to his dressing room in a nearby trailer. And he didn’t come out again for the rest of the day’s shoot.
Chapter 6
You’re the Greatest!
The great Cecil Bear DeMille had never lost a whole day’s shoot in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now—not with the biggest, most expensive movie he’d ever made. He was working with the tightest budget Bearamount Pictures had ever given him, so he had to put every minute of available shooting time to good use.
With Clark Grizzle sulking in his trailer all day, DeMille rearranged the shooting schedule. Instead of the kissing scene, he shot some scenes with Scarlett and Rose O’Beara. This involved mov
ing the stars’ trailers, including Bonnie’s, because the scenes took place on the grounds of Grizzly Mansion. (Bonnie had her very own trailer with her name on it above a big gold star.)
Bonnie was great as Rose. In fact, she was far better prepared than Vivian Brie, who kept flubbing her lines. For one of the scenes, they needed fifteen takes to get it right!
At the end of the day, DeMille called Bonnie over. “You were terrific, kid,” he told her. “A real trouper. I wish my grown-up actors were as good as you. Vivian muffing all those lines didn’t even faze you.”
“Thanks, C.B. I worked really hard preparing. But what’s going to happen with Clark? He was awfully upset.”
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” said DeMille. “He storms off the set at least twice a week in every movie he makes. You just gotta know how to handle him. Watch this.”
DeMille motioned the prop bear over. “Go to Mr. Grizzle’s trailer,” he said, “and tell him to get his furry behind back out here. I want to talk to him.”
“Right away, C.B.,” said the prop bear. He hurried off and did exactly what he’d been told to do. (Well, not exactly; he never mentioned Grizzle’s “furry behind.”)
After a while, Clark Grizzle, wearing a bathrobe and looking as if he were still smoldering inside, shuffled out to the set. “You wanted to see me, C.B.?” he muttered.
“You bet I do,” said the director. “That thing you did with the chair, Clark! It was inspired! The best pratfall I’ve seen in all my directing days!”
“But . . . but it was an accident,” said Grizzle.
“Who cares?” said DeMille. “It was fabulous! Better than W.C. Bruin! Better than Oliver Beary! Even better than Bearster Keaton! I’m telling you, Clark baby, it’s time to make your move into comedy. I’m directing a slapstick comedy for my next movie, and I just might make you the star!”
Grizzle was smiling now. “No kidding, C.B.?” he said. “I’ve always wanted to act in a comedy.”
“Who says you’ll need to act?” DeMille said under his breath. Then, to Grizzle, he said, “So, you’ll be ready tomorrow morning for the kissing scene?”
“Ready when you are, C.B.!” said Clark brightly. He turned and headed for his trailer with a spring in his step.
“See,” said DeMille to Bonnie. “You have to know how to treat these big stars. Stroke their egos. Deep down, most of them are just little cubs showin’ off. By the way, the owner of the Bearjou Theater, Fred Furry, has invited me, Clark, and Vivian to a special movie screening Saturday night. Wanna tag along?”
“You bet!” said Bonnie. “What’s the movie?”
“The Bear Commandments, starring Clark Grizzle and Vivian Brie, directed by yours truly,” said DeMille. “Furry’s gonna reserve the entire balcony for us. It’s a nice little publicity stunt. It’ll be good for us and great for Furry. It’ll turn the Bearjou into a landmark theater overnight—you know, ‘C.B. DeMille slept here,’ that kind of thing. I always fall asleep at movies. Anyway, I’ll have my limousine pick you up at eight.”
“Gee, thanks, C.B.,” cooed Bonnie. “You’re the greatest!”
The director smiled. “So they say,” he replied.
Chapter 7
Not So Easy Rider
The great C.B. DeMille never planned out his rehearsal or shooting schedules too far in advance or in too great detail. That’s because things depended too much on factors that were hard to predict, such as the weather, expenses, and whether or not one of his stars was sulking in his or her trailer.
Now DeMille decided to devote Friday and Saturday to the climax of Lost with the Wind: the Battle of Beartown, followed by the Gray’s surrender to the Blue. The battle scene in particular was so complicated that a full two days of rehearsal were necessary. It involved hundreds of extras bused in from Big Bear City to play soldiers, and all of them, of course, had to be provided with uniforms and weapons. A dozen authentic Great Bear War cannons had been shipped to Beartown from national parks, museums, and Great Bear War cemeteries all over Bear Country. It was lucky that Miss Mamie’s Riding Academy was located on the outskirts of Beartown, so Bearamount Pictures didn’t have to bring cavalry horses in from out of town.
DeMille spent all day Friday mapping out the elaborate troop movements— charges, retreats, skirmishes, standoffs— that he hoped would make his Battle of Beartown the greatest battle scene in movie history. Then he had the extras on foot and horseback do a walk-through of the scene. On Saturday, he had them do the scene at full speed. They ran (and galloped), jumped, staggered, and fell. It took all day to get the extras who had been chosen to fall in battle to act as if they were really getting shot or having shells explode at their feet. The special effects that would create the illusion of gunfire and explosions were so expensive that they had to be saved for the actual shooting.
Everything went surprisingly smoothly. Until Saturday afternoon, that is. The commanding officers of the Blue and the Gray were Papa Bear and Squire Grizzly, who had spent so much time on horses while growing up that he was bowlegged. But Papa had never been on a horse in his life. Rehearsal had to be stopped for two hours while Miss Mamie trained Papa to ride a trotting horse. (A galloping horse was out of the question for a beginner.)
On the very first attempt to have Papa lead his troops out of Birder’s Woods and onto the battlefield, something completely unexpected happened. Cousin Fred’s dog, Spot, who had been sitting calmly at the rear of the crowd, suddenly yanked his leash out of Fred’s grasp and ran onto the battlefield. He ran right under the feet of Papa’s horse, who whinnied and reared up on his hind legs, throwing his rider. Papa did a crazy flip and landed right on his head.
“Get that flea-bitten dog off my set!” roared DeMille. “Who’s the owner?”
“Er . . . uh, th-that would be m-me, sir,” said Fred sheepishly.
“You’re out of the picture, kid!” shouted DeMille.
“B-but I’m not even in the picture,” stammered Fred.
“No back talk!” snapped the director. “When I speak, you listen!”
Meanwhile, Miss Mamie rushed to grab her horse’s reins. “Whoa, Diablo!” she said, then knelt at Papa’s side. “Did he hurt you, Papa?”
Rubbing his neck, Papa propped himself up on an elbow and gave Miss Mamie a nasty look. “Hurt me?” he said. “How could you hurt anybody by throwing him on his head?”
Across the way, DeMilles assistant director was whispering in his ear. “That was a great pratfall, C.B.! Better than Clark’s the other day. I think we should hire that guy for our next—”
“I don’t pay you to think!” roared DeMille. “I pay you to make sure there aren’t any dogs on my set!”
By now, the paramedics that DeMille kept on the set at all times were examining Papa. For the very first time in days of shooting, the great C.B. DeMille climbed down from his director’s chair. He handed his megaphone to his assistant and walked out to where Papa was getting slowly to his feet. He talked briefly with the paramedics, then turned to Papa. “My medical boys say you’re okay, Papa. Clean bill of health, won’t even need a neck brace. Are you ready to proceed?”
“Well,” said Papa, still rubbing his neck, “I guess what they say about getting right back on the horse comes into play here.”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” said DeMille. “You get back on that horse and you’ll just get yourself killed. I’ll find a double to play you in the battle scene—you know, someone who looks enough like you that I can shoot him in profile and from a distance and nobody’ll know it isn’t you.”
“Does that mean I’m out of the picture, C.B.?” moaned Papa.
“Of course not,” said the director. “In fact, you and Squire Grizzly are gonna shoot the surrender scene right now. We’re moving back to town.”
“Can’t we rehearse it first?” said Papa.
“No time,” said DeMille. “We’ve got to hurry before that neck of yours stiffens up!”
Chapter 8
&n
bsp; Surrender? Never!
The surrender scene was really quite simple. One camera would pan across the troops of the Blue and the Gray massed in the town square, then another camera would zoom in on Papa and Squire Grizzly standing under Old Shag, attended by Farmer Ben and Two-Ton Grizzly. The squire would draw his sword, say, “I hereby surrender the forces of the Grizzly clan to you, the commander of the Bear clan,” and hand his sword to Papa. Papa would say, “As commander of the Bear clan’s forces, I accept your surrender.” Then the two would shake hands and be seated at a nearby table, where they would sign the peace treaty.
C.B. DeMille had never been told about the dispute earlier in the week over the roles played by Farmer Ben and Two-Ton Grizzly. As far as he was concerned, nothing could go wrong. Boy, was he in for a surprise!
“Quiet on the set!” boomed DeMille through his megaphone. “Actors, take your places!”
The clacker bear stepped in front of the camera. “Scene forty-two, take one.” Clack!
“Okay, camerabears?” said DeMille.
“Ready when you are, C.B.,” answered the two camerabears in unison.
“All right. Lights . . . camera . . . action!”
The scene went fine until Squire Grizzly opened his mouth to speak. “I hereby . . . ,” he said, then stopped. “I hereby . . . ,” he repeated.
“Cut!” said DeMille. “That’s okay, Squire baby. Let’s try it again. Just relax.”
But take two didn’t go any better. In fact, this time, when the squire opened his mouth to speak, Two-Ton Grizzly was heard to whisper, “Don’t do it, Squire!”
“Cut!” cried DeMille. He scowled down at Two-Ton and the squire. “What the heck’s goin’ on here?”
Squire Grizzly was trembling with emotion, “I can’t do it, C.B.,” he said. “I can’t bring myself to say the word ‘surrender’!”
