The Deer Park

by Norman Mailer

  Eitel did not take to this invasion. He had come to prefer being alone, and was rarely to be seen at the hotel. One day when I stopped by his house, the phone rang in Eitel’s bedroom. From the den I could hear him talking. He was being invited to visit somebody who had just arrived at the Yacht Club, and after he hung up, I could feel his excitement. “How would you like to meet a pirate?” he said with a laugh.

  “Who is it?”

  “The producer, Collie Munshin.”

  “Why do you call him a pirate?” I asked.

  “Just wait until you meet him.”

  But Eitel could not keep himself from saying more. I think he was irritated at how much pleasure the invitation gave him.

  Munshin was the son-in-law of Herman Teppis, Eitel explained, and Teppis was the head of Supreme Pictures. Munshin had married Teppis’ daughter, and it had helped to make him one of the most important producers in the capital. “Not that he wouldn’t have made it anyway,” Eitel said. “Nothing could stop Collie.” He had been, I learned, a little bit of many things, a salesman, a newspaperman, a radio announcer for a small station, a press-relations consultant, an actor’s agent, an assistant producer, and finally a producer. “Once upon a time,” Eitel went on, “he was practically an office boy for me. I know the key to Collie. He’s shameless. You can’t stop a man who’s never been embarrassed by himself.”

  Eitel began to change his shirt. By the way he picked his tie, I knew he did not feel nearly as casual as he was hoping to feel. “Wonder why he wants to see me?” he said aloud. “I suppose he wants to steal an idea.”

  “Why bother?” I asked. “Nothing is cheaper than ideas.”

  “It’s his technique. Collie gets a feeling about a story. Not anything you can really name. Some cloud of an idea. Then he invites a writer who’s out of work to come to lunch. He listens to the writer’s suggestions, and they talk the thing up. The next day he invites another man to lunch. By the time he’s talked to half a dozen writers he has a story and then he uses one of the peons he keeps locked in a hole to write the thing. When Collie is done, he can sell the story to the studio as his own creation. Oh, he’s clever, he’s tenacious, he’s scheming …” Eitel ran out of words.

  “What’s to keep him from running the studio?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” said Eitel, putting on a jacket, “he’ll run the world someday.” Then Eitel smiled. “Only first he has to learn how to handle me. Sometimes I can set him back.”

  As he closed the door behind us, Eitel added, “There’s another thing which might hold him up. He’s having woman trouble.”

  “Does he run around with so many?”

  Eitel looked at me as if I had a lot to learn about the psychology of prominent men in the capital. “Why, no,” he said, “Collie has too many decisions to juggle, and that slows a man up, don’t you know? Besides, it’s not so easy to keep a harem when your wife is Herman Teppis’ daughter. You don’t even keep a fancy girl. Just a child in a cubbyhole and she’s caused him trouble enough with H.T. It’s some poor dancer. She’s been his girl for several years. I’ve never met her, but Collie will be the first to tell you the trouble she gives him. It’s a conventional relationship. She wants him to divorce his wife and marry her, and Collie lets her believe that he will. Poor boy, he can’t bear to let go of anything.” Eitel chuckled. “Of course, the girl friend makes him pay. When Collie’s not around, his little kitten will go for a romp. A couple of actors who’ve worked for me have been with her. They tell me she’s extraordinary in bed.”

  “Isn’t that rough on him?”

  “I don’t know,” Eitel said, “there are parts and parts to Collie. He enjoys being a martyr.”

  “Sounds like a sad character to me.”

  “Oh, everybody’s sad if you want to look at them that way. Collie’s not so bad off. Just remember there’s nobody like him in the whole world.”

  We came to Munshin’s bungalow, and Eitel tapped the knocker on the pink-colored door. After a wait I could hear somebody running toward us, and then it flew open, and I had no more than the sight of the back of a fat man in a dressing gown who went bounding away to the phone, the gown flapping against his calves while he called over his shoulder, “Come in. Be with you in a minute, fellows.” He was talking in a high-pitched easy voice to somebody in New York, holding the receiver in his left hand while with his right he was neatly mixing drinks for us, not only carrying on his business conversation but opening a big smile across his face at the introduction to me. A little under medium height, with short turned-up features, he looked like a clown, for he had a large round head on a round body and almost no neck at all.

  The drinks made, he passed them over with a wink, and his right hand free again, he began to tickle his thin hair, discovering a bald spot on his head and then patting it into hiding again, only to leave his head for his belly which he prodded gingerly as if to find out whether it concealed an ache. He certainly had a lot of energy; I had the idea it would be rare to see him doing one thing at a time.

  Eitel sat down with a bored look and smiled at the producer’s calisthenics. When the call was done, Munshin bounced to his feet and advanced on Eitel with an outstretched palm, a grin on his face. “Charley!” he said, as if Eitel had just come into the room and he was surprised to see him. “You look great. How have you been?” Munshin asked, his free hand covering their handclasp. “I’ve been hearing great things about you.”

  “Stop it, Collie,” Eitel laughed, “there’s nothing you can steal from me.”

  “Steal? Lover, I just want to steal your company.” He clamped a bear-hug on Eitel’s neck. “You look great,” he repeated. “I’ve been hearing wonderful things about your script. I want to read it when it’s done.”

  “What for?” Eitel asked.

  “I want to buy it.” He said this as if nothing was in the way of buying anything from Eitel.

  “The only way I’ll let you buy it is blind.”

  “I’ll buy it blind. If it’s from you, Charley, I’ll buy it blind.”

  “You wouldn’t buy Shakespeare blind.”

  “You think I’m kidding,” Munshin said in a sad voice.

  “Stop it, Collie,” Eitel said again.

  As he talked, Munshin kept on touching Eitel, pinching his elbow, patting his shoulder, jabbing his ribs. “Charley, don’t show your script to anybody. Just work on it. Don’t worry about your situation.”

  “Get your greedy little hands off me. You know I’m going to make the picture by myself.”

  “That’s your style, Charley,” Munshin said with a profound nod. “That’s the way you always should work.”

  He told us a joke, passed a bit of gossip, and kept his hands on Eitel’s body in a set of movements which called up the picture of a fat house detective searching a drunk. Then Eitel walked away from him, and we all sat down and looked at each other. After a short silence, Munshin announced, “I’ve thought of a great movie to make.”

  “What is it?” I asked, for Eitel only made a face. The producer gave the name of a famous French novel. “That author knows everything about sex,” Munshin said. “I’ll never be able to think I’m in love again.”

  “Why don’t you do the life of the Marquis de Sade?” Eitel drawled.

  “You think I wouldn’t if I could find a gimmick?”

  “Collie,” Eitel said, “sit down and tell me the story you really have.”

  “I don’t have a thing. I’m open to suggestion. I’m tired of making the same old stuff. Every man has an artistic desire in this business.”

  “He’s absolutely unscrupulous,” Eitel said with pride. Collie grinned. He cocked his head to the side with the cunning look of a dog who is being scolded.

  “You’re a born exaggerator,” Munshin said.

  “You can’t stop Collie.”

  “I love you.”

  Munshin poured another drink for us. Like a baby, his upper lip was covered with perspiration. “Well, how
are things?” he said.

  “Just fine, Collie. How are things with you?” Eitel asked in a flat voice. I knew him well enough to know he was very much on guard.

  “Charley, my personal life is in bad shape.”

  “Your wife?”

  Munshin stared into space, his hard small eyes the only sign of bone beneath his fat. “Well, things are always the same between her and me.”

  “What is it then, Collie?”

  “I’ve decided to give the brush to my girl friend.”

  Eitel began to laugh. “It’s about time.”

  “Now, don’t laugh, Charley. This is important to me.”

  I was surprised at the way Munshin talked so frankly. He hadn’t known me fifteen minutes, and yet he was as ready to talk as if he were alone with Eitel. I was still to learn that Munshin, like many people from the capital, could talk openly about his personal life while remaining a dream of espionage in his business operations.

  “You’re not really giving her up?” Eitel said lightly. “What’s the matter, has Teppis laid down the law?”

  “Charley!” Munshin said, “this is a personal tragedy for me.”

  “I suppose you’re in love with the girl.”

  “No, now I wouldn’t say that. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Oh, I’m sure of that, Collie.”

  “I’m very worried about her future,” Munshin said, his fingers prodding his belly again.

  “From what I’ve heard about her, she’ll get along.”

  “What did you hear?” Munshin asked.

  “Just that while she’s known you, she’s had her extracurricular activities.”

  Munshin’s round face became tolerant and sad. “We live in a community of scandal,” he said.

  “Spare me, Collie,” Eitel murmured.

  Munshin was on his feet. “You don’t understand this girl,” he said in a booming voice. I was left behind by the sudden transition. “She’s a child. She’s a beautiful, warm, simple child.”

  “And you’re a beautiful, warm, simple father.”

  “I’ve defended you, Charley,” Munshin said. “I’ve defended you against stories which even you wouldn’t want to hear about yourself. But I’m beginning to think I was wrong. I’m beginning to think you’re nothing but rottenness and corruption.”

  “Honest corruption. I don’t play the saint.”

  “I’m not claiming I’m a saint,” Munshin bellowed again. “But I have feelings.” He turned in my direction. “What do you see when you look at a fellow like myself?” he asked. “You see a fat man who likes to play the clown. Does that mean I have no human sentiments?”

  He was far from a clown at the moment. His mild high-pitched voice had swollen in volume and dropped deeper in tone. Standing over us, he gave me the feeling that he was a man of some physical power. “All right, Charley,” he said, “I know what you think of me, but I’ll tell you something. I may be a businessman, and you may be an artist, and I’ve great respect for your talent, great respect, but you’re a cold man and I have emotions, and that’s why you can’t understand me.”

  Through this tirade, Eitel had been drawing on his cigarette. Nonchalantly, he put it out. “Why did you invite me over, Collie?”

  “For friendship. Can’t you understand that? I wanted to hear your troubles, and I wanted to tell you mine.”

  Eitel leaned forward, his broad body hunched on itself. “I have no troubles,” he said with a smile. “Let me hear yours.”

  Munshin relaxed. “There are pluses as well as minuses to this affair. It’s easy to sneer at the girl,” he said. “I’ve sneered at her myself. When I first set her up, I thought, ‘Just another night-club dancer. A hot Italian babe with that hot Latin blood.’ Well, it’s a story, Charley. She may not be so brilliant, and she’s obviously from a poor background.” He looked at me. “I’ve always been full of prejudices about women,” Munshin said humbly. “You know, I’ve wanted girls with some class and distinction to them, and I’ll admit it, it’s what I still hold against Elena. She doesn’t match up to the people I know. But that doesn’t keep her from being very human.”

  “Still, you’re giving her the brush,” Eitel said. “You’re giving the brush to a very human girl.”

  “There’s no future for us. I admit it, you see, I admit my faults. I’m a social coward like everybody else in the industry.”

  “So like all cowards you got tired of turning down her marriage proposals.”

  “Elena’s not a schemer,” Munshin said firmly. “You want to know something? Just a couple of days ago I tried to give her a thousand dollars. She wouldn’t take it. Not once did she ever ask me to marry her. She’s not the kind who threatens. It’s just that I can’t stand the thought she has no future with me.”

  “Herman Teppis can’t stand the thought either.”

  Munshin allowed this to pass. “Let me tell you about her. She’s a girl who’s composed of hurts and emotion and dirt and shining love,” he said in the round categorical style of a criminal lawyer who wishes to attract all the elements in a jury. “I had my analyst send her to a friend of his, but it didn’t come off. She didn’t have enough ego to work on. That’s how serious the problem is.” Munshin held out a heavy palm as if to draw our attention. “Take the way I met her. She was doing a fill-in number at a benefit I ran. I saw her in the wings, dressed up, ready to go on. A real Carmen-type. Only, a Carmen shuddering with fright,” said Munshin looking at us. “She was practically clawing the hand off her partner. ‘There’s a human being in torment,’ I said to myself, ‘a girl who’s as wild and sensitive as an animal.’ Yet when she got up on the stage, she was all right. A good flamenco dancer. In and out, but talent. Afterward, we started talking, and she told me she couldn’t even eat a piece of bread on a day she was working. I told her I thought I could help her with some of her problems and she was grateful as a puppy. That’s how we started.” Munshin’s voice became heavy with emotion. “You, Eitel, you’d call that scheming, I suppose. I call it sensitivity and heartbreak and all kinds of hurts. She’s a girl who’s all hurts.”

  As Munshin kept on talking, I had the idea he was describing her the way he might line up a heroine in a story conference, the story conference more interesting than the film which would come from it.

  “You take the business of being Italian,” Munshin lectured us. “I can’t tell you the things I’ve learned, the human subtleties, and I’m a good liberal. For instance, if she was served by a Negro waiter, she always had the idea that he was being a little intimate with her. I talked to her about such problems. I explained how wrong it is to have prejudice against a Negro, and she understood.”

  “Like that,” Eitel said, snapping his fingers.

  “You stop it, Charley,” Munshin said, bobbing in his seat. “You understand what I mean. She was ashamed of her prejudice. Elena is a person who hates everything that is small in herself. She’s consumed by the passion to become a bigger person than she is, consumed, do you understand?” and he shook his fist.

  “Collie, I really think you’re upset.”

  “Take her promiscuity,” Munshin went on, as if he had not heard. “She’s the sort of girl who would love a husband and kids, a decent healthy mature relationship. You think it didn’t bother me, her seeing other men? But I knew it was my fault. I was to blame and I’ll admit it freely. What could I offer her?”

  “What could the others offer her?” Eitel interrupted.

  “Fine. Fine. Just fine coming from you. I’ll tell you, Charley, I don’t believe in double standards. A woman’s got just as much right as a man to her freedom.”

  “Why don’t we start a club?” Eitel jeered.

  “I’ve gone to bat for you, Eitel. I pleaded with H.T. not to suspend you after Clouds Ahoy. Are you so ungrateful that I have to remind you how many times I helped you make pictures you wanted to make?”

  “And then you cut them to ribbons.”

  “We’ve had our disag
reements, Charley, but I’ve always considered you a friend. I don’t care what transpires between us today, it won’t affect my attitude toward you.”

  Eitel smiled.

  “I’m curious.” Munshin put his hands on his knees. “What do you think of Elena the way I’ve described her?”

  “I think she’s better than you deserve.”

  “I’m glad you say that, Charley. It means I’ve been able to convey her quality.” Munshin paused, and loosened the cord of his dressing gown. “You see, about an hour ago I told Elena we couldn’t go on.”

  “An hour ago!”

  Munshin nodded.

  “You mean she’s here?” Eitel asked. “Here in town?”

  “Yes.”

  “You brought her out here to give her the brush?”

  Munshin started to pace the floor. “I didn’t plan it. A lot of times I bring her along on my trips.”

  “And let her stay in a separate hotel?”

  “Well, I’ve explained the situation.”

  “When is your wife due?”

  “She’ll be here tomorrow.” Munshin blew his nose. “I had no idea it would happen like this. For months I knew I couldn’t go on with Elena, but I didn’t expect it for today.”

  Eitel shook his head. “What do you want me to do? Hold her hand?”

  “No, I mean …” Munshin looked miserable. “Charley, she doesn’t know a soul in this place.”

  “Then let her go back to the city.”