ROD SERLING: ARTIST FIRST, WRITER SECOND, CONTRIBUTOR TO TELEVISION THIRD

ROD SERLING: AN ARTIST FIRST, A WRITER SECOND, A CONTRIBUTOR TO TELEVISION THIRD ... CREATED TWILIGHT ZONE, DISCOVERED & LAUNCHED CAREERS, TAUGHT HUMANS SOMETHING.HERE ARE SOME LINKS TO ROD AND HIS DISCOVERIES LIKE GEORGE CLAYTON JOHNSON, WHO WAS THE FIRST WRITER TO LECTURE A PACKED AUDIENCE AT THE BUREAU OF ARTS AND CULTURE IN 1996 DURING A SCREENING OF SEVERAL TWILIGHT ZONES IN 16MM BLACK & WHITE PROJECTIONS.I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY I CALLED AND ASKED IF HE WOULD OBLIGE US WITH HIS PRESENCE.NOBODY KNEW WHO WE WERE BACK THEN, WE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A MAGAZINE YET, JUST A GALLERY.

 " HELLO, IS THIS GEORGE CLAYTON JOHNSON THE WRITER OF SEVERAL TWILIGHT ZONES & LOGANS RUN ?"  "YES IT IS".  I HAVE IN MY POSESSION TWO RARE PRINTS OF TWILIGHT ZONE, WOULD YOU BE INTERESTED IN TALKING TO A GROUP OF YOUNG FOLKS WHO LOVE YOUR WORK ? " [ PAUSE ]  " YES . YES I WOULD. "   WHAT A MAGIC WORD THAT 'YES' IS, I THOUGHT. THE EVENT SOLD OUT . THIS FEATURE FILM TELLS THE STORY OF ROD SERLING AND HIS TRIUMPH OF THE PEN, MEDIUM & SPONSORS.


                                          www.rodserling.com/‎   

                         http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Matheson   

                  
  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Clayton_Johnson

                http://www.emmytvlegends.org/interviews/people/george-clayton-johnson

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" ITS Here, and there Aint a Dang Thing You gonna do about IT ! " - Edna Thurber GIANT

    EDNA FERBER is The Writer who created the fine 
   characters personified in the Film : G I A N T
  Writers create the foundation of great performances . . .



   Here are some links to her other writing: 
   


    
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SURFERS AND LOW RIDERS: " GO GO's DROPPING IN … " FICTION Excerpt from Short Story Series by Joshua Aaron TRILIEGI




SURFERS AND LOW RIDERS: 


" GO GO's  DROPPING IN … "



FICTION 

Excerpt from Short Story Series 


by Joshua Aaron TRILIEGI

HEAR THE STORY NARRATED AT: http://www.BUREAUofARTSandCULTURE.com 




 My older brother Chaz is talking Mom into letting me take a day away from school 
to watch the surf contest at Hermosa Beach Break Wall. I wonder what that means, 
were going to break a wall ? We do break it when Mom reluctantly agrees, due to 
my old man seconding the motion. ' The kid needs to learn how to surf, we don't 
want him hanging around these streets & fields for ever.' Somehow,  they agree.
I'm told we will be getting up at five AM. The surf journey starts early when you 
live inland. We pile into someones van & are on the sand lot walking to the reef & 
break by sunrise. If I don't look up, its legs and feet and crotches : I'm nine, ten 
or eleven, the only kid in attendance. Were about to to see one of our neighbor-
hood jesters steal an entire season from a bunch of internationally known pros.  




 People are gathered in groups & huddles. A calm intelligence, mixed with a wild 
sense of un expectancy from the surf, which is cold and grey, is in the air. Big 
sets flow in, getting larger & slanting into even more powerful faces that broaden 
slowly, without notice, becoming the big waves that cats from all over came here 
to be a part of. These are Winter swells. Different than the smooth, silver, glassy, 
summer afternoons we knew so well. This is the mean, cold, sharp, kind of grey,  
jagged, hurtful side of mother nature. An old woman of an ocean ready to take 
the boys into manhood. Several little stands & tables with umbrellas & banners are 
blown over completely. The more concerned sponsors embarrassingly back up their 
entire camps. It's an outsiders nightmare & a locals home favorite kind of condition.  



 It doesn't take long before Go-Go, short for Geronimo, starts scheming to pull 
the kind of prank that makes names and legends and stories such as this one here. 
He's chewing on two pink chocolate sprinkled cakes, shaped like breasts. Chasing 
them down with several gulps of Mad Dog Twenty-twenty & a quaalude or codeine 
'cause his wetsuit has a giant rip in it and he messed up his ankle the night before 
at Oktoberfest. Sleeping in his car in front of Millers Market until pre dawn hours.
He's looking like a coyote running in the back field, while all these pros look like a 
bunch of rabbits, sitting, quiet. Even though they have been in the water for several 
heats or sessions of elimination and judgements on style, distance, etc… Go-Go's 
not even entered in the competition. He's simply going to jump out there and join 
the ranks with a wild sense of piracy that comes with years of life on the water. Like 
a renegade native, getting high on the water. He can't help it. Go Go's dropping in.




 I have heard guys talking about my brother's either bravery or just plain craziness 
in dropping in on the biggies at the break wall. But those were warm Summer swells.
This was after he had dropped out to master Swami's, County Line and Horseshoe. 
Years before the storms took away half the beach from us forever. Back then, there 
were the Hawaiian transplants and Filipino's , the blonde Malibu types and then there 
was Bill. He was my older brothers, best friend's older brother. The first day I met him, 
he was shaping a board in the family garage. He was the conscious of our neighborhood.
A mentor and ex football hero. Now the word is getting and Bill is saying that Go-Go is 
a kook. But everyone else is goading him into it. The b level players like, Gozer, Richie 
and the others. " Yeah Go - Go do it."  So, we're all aware that something is going to 
happen and all the guys that look like newscasters at the table are about to be surprised 
by the " Attack of the Boys from The East End " like a film at the Roadio drive-in. We had 
our own daredevil-jokester-madman-hero and we'd have sent him into anything, just to 
watch him burn, although it was his matchbook, that was always clear, so it didn't seem 
like anyone even thought twice about his safety, except maybe Bill. 




 Of course , it was about the girls too. A guy like Go-Go who wasn't a pretty boy or 
particularly smart or wealthy could crank up his position on the charisma level. He'd 
be King - for - a Day. Could maybe even shack up with a babe for a week or so after 
a performance like this. A guy would build up his story, it circulated, and he'd ride it 
like the wave that Go-Go was hoping to catch. There are boats at bay, in case of any 
emergency and the girls are all in their bikini's and cut off jeans. They must have come 
up from Mexico the way they look, glowing with that peach, amber glow that white girls 
get after a season or two on the road with surfers. The tips of their hair, the tan toes, the 
bright colored clothes and all the wind blown edges of their attitude. Go - Go slips away 
long enough for us to forget about his plan when someone at the surf officials table 
becomes extremely animated and upset, waiving erratically at some thing no one else 
can see. Another official breaks out the bull horn and starts directing the man on the 
break wall to , " Get away from the water. "  Go - Go continues down the wall toward 
the rocky point where locals, who knew the terrain, could jump off by counting the right 
three second interval between the breaking set and the next rising crest. But today, this 
was just plain f*cking insane and everybody knew it. 




I started to get concerned. Not like Bill did, by calling him a knuckle head, but fearful 
that a bad thing could happen. And of course a bad thing could happen, that's the 
point of these manhood rituals with the sea and earth and wind and ourselves. But 
Go-Go was built to do this, just like he was built to steal a police car because the cops 
busted up a party where he was about to get laid and it really pissed him off. Some 
were not impressed, whereas we were ecstatic, I mean I was anyway. The place was 
being robbed of it's boundaries, that was the thing. So Go-Go does a run and a jump, 
off the end of the concrete, over the first set of rocks and launches a toes - out - cat - 
like - flight over the six feet of rocks on the outer side of the break wall and into the 
sacred sea. Breaking several rules, disrupting the contest and banishing himself from 
any future competition position according to the Official California Surfing Federation 
handbook of 1970 - something. But Go-Go wasn't saving for retirement, he was building 
up a different account of sorts and was about to hit the long shot on a late bet at roulette. 
Now he's out there and has to drop in on this next big set and do this thing or it'll flop 
and he'll have lost a chance & completely ruined an otherwise decent Winter competition. 
He works quick, paddling into a larger break point which can completely slam you into the 
rocks if your to close at drop in. By now everyone knows what's going on, all eyes are on 
Go - Go. People in our circle start shouting, " Go - Go  you fucker ."  Others join in like 
fans at a Rams game or Stones concert, " Go - Gooooooooo, do it man."  Finally, the war 
cry is heard, " G - e - r - o - n - i - m - o  ! "  I look up and even Bill is beaming. As they 
all shouted into the cold, grey sea, Go - Go dropped in and it was then that I started to 
understand what surfing was really all about.

  

 BUREAUofARTSandCULTURE.com  " Go- Go' s Dropping In  "   SURFERS and LOWRIDERS  by +J.A. TRILIEGI     



   
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FARENHEIT 451 : Ray Bradbury



I will never forget the day I met Mr Bradbury who was 
signing books at USC. I brought a handful of early vintage 
paperbacks for him to sign. Everyone else in line had just 
purchased new copies. With a hundred students behind me,  
Mr Bradbury sat and talked with me for what seemed like a 
very long time. " I didn't even own a car when I wrote this." 
We had a wonderful conversation, he is and will always be 
a controversial, inspiring and thought provoking artist.
- Joshua Triliegi 

FARENHEIT 451: Ray Bradbury 


“Don't think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity. It's self-conscious and anything
self-conscious is lousy. You can't "try" to do things. You simply "must" do things.” 
― Ray Bradbury



“I still love books. Nothing a computer can do can compare to a book. You can't really put a book on the Internet. Three companies have offered to put books by me on the Net, and I said, 'If you can make something that has a nice jacket, nice paper with that nice smell, then we'll talk.' All the computer can give you is a manuscript. People don't want to read manuscripts. They want to read books. Books smell good. They look good. You can press it to your bosom. You can carry it in your pocket.” 
― Ray Bradbury


“If we listened to our intellect we'd never have a love affair. We'd never have a friendship. We'd never go in business because we'd be cynical: "It's gonna go wrong." Or "She's going to hurt me." Or,"I've had a couple of bad love affairs, so therefore . . ." Well, that's nonsense. You're going to miss life. You've got to jump off the cliff all the time and build your wings on the way down.” 
― Ray Bradbury


“You're a hopeless romantic," said Faber. "It would be funny if it were not serious. It's not books you need, it's some of the things that once were in books. The same things could be in the 'parlor families' today. The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios, and televisors, but are not. No,no it's not books at all you're looking for! Take it where you can find it, in old phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends; look for it in nature and look for it in yourself. Books were only one type or receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us. Of course you couldn't know this, of course you still can't understand what i mean when i say all this. You are intuitively right, that's what counts.” 
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 


“The books are to remind us what asses and fool we are. They're Caeser's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, "Remember, Caeser, thou art mortal." Most of us can't rush around, talking to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book. Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.” 
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 


“For it is a mad world and it will get madder if we allow the minorities, be they dwarf or giant, orangutan or dolphin, nuclear-head or water conservationalist, pro-computerologist or Neo-Luddite, simpleton or sage, to interfere with aesthetics. The real world is the playing ground for each and every group, to make or unmake laws. But the tip of the nose of my book or stories or poems is where their rights end and my territorial imperatives begin, run and rule. If Mormons do not like my plays, let them write their own. If the Irish hate my Dublin stories, let them rent typewriters. If teachers and grammar school editors find my jawbreaker sentences shatter their mushmilk teeth, let them eat stale cake dunked in weak tea of their own ungodly manufacture. If the Chicano intellectuals which to re-cut my "Wonderful Ice Cream Suit" so it shapes "Zoot," may the belt unravel and the pants fall.” 
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 

“Now let's take up the minorities in our civilisation, shall we? Bigger the population, the more minorities. Don't step on the toes of the dog-lovers, the cat-lovers, doctors, lawyers, merchants, chiefs, Mormons, Baptists, Unitarians, second-generation Chinese, Swedes, Italians, Germans, Texans, Brooklynites, Irishmen, people from Oregon or Mexico. The people in this book, this play, this TV serial are not meant to represent any actual painters, cartographers, mechanics anywhere. The bigger your market, Montag, the less you handle controversy, remember that!” 
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 

“With school turning out more runners, jumpers, racers, tinkerers, grabbers, snatchers, fliers and swimmers instead of examiners, critics, knowers and imaginative creators, the word 'intellectual' of course, became the swear word it deserved to be. You always dread the unfamiliar. Surely you remember the boy in your own school class who was exceptionally 'bright,' did most of the reciting and answering while the others sat like so many leaden idols, hating him. And wasn't it this bright boy you selected for beatings and tortures after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against. So! A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man's mind. Who knows who might be the target of a well-read man? Me? I won't stomach them for a minute. And so when houses were finally fireproofed completely, all over the world [...] there was no longer need of firemen for the old purposes. They were given the new job, as custodians of our peace of mind, the focus of our understandable and rightful dread of being inferior: official censors, judges and executors.” 
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451




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ERNEST LEHMAN: Adapted Clifford Odets for The Film " Sweet Smell of Success "

















ERNEST LEHMAN : Adapted Clifford Odets 
for The Film " Sweet Smell of Success " 


ERNEST LEHMAN: ON BEING AN ARTIST
“Honestly I don’t think of it as art. When it works 
it’s skill and craft and some unconscious ability.”

ERNEST LEHMAN: ON WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A SCREENWRITER
“You have to understand that people feel threatened by a writer. 
It’s very curious. He knows something that they don’t know. He 
knows how to write, and that’s a subtle, disturbing quality that he 
has. Some directors, without even knowing it, resent the writer in 
the same way that Bob Hope might resent the fact that he ain’t 
funny without twelve guys writing the jokes. The director knows 
that the script he is carrying around on the set every day was 
written by someone, and that’s just not something that all 
directors easily digest.
ERNEST LEHMAN: ON THE PROCESS
“Movie writing is all about one thing … despair. You’re alone in an 
office with a problem—how to write a particular scene. You know 
where it starts and where it needs to go but you have no idea how 
to get there. Absolutely no idea. I’d lie on the sofa and hours would 
go by and I’d have nothing to show at the end of the day. I drive 
home and I’m feeling lousy because all I’ve written that day is ‘fade in’ 
and two lines describing the location of the scene. Believe me, the first 
few lines of my scripts are always great because I’ve spent hours just 
stuck on those. Writing is solving problems; that’s all it is. How do you
 do it so you think it’s right? In North By Northwest I was always painting 
myself into corners. The problem is how do you get out of that corner. 
Well, you try every possible option until the right one hits.”

Read The Script: 
http://www.dailyscript.com/scripts/sweetsmell.html 

 View His work;
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernest_Lehman
Hello, Dolly!
The King and I
North by Northwest
Sabrina
The Sound of Music
Sweet Smell of Success
West Side Story
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?


 
                 SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS

                           by

                     Clifford Odets

                     Ernest Lehman
 



                     Working Script For

                 THE SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS

FADE IN:

EXT. INT. GLOBE NEWSPAPER BUILDING - DUSK - N.Y.

A row of newspaper delivery trucks is lined up against the
long loading bay, waiting for the edition.  In the foreground
a large clock establishes the time as 8:10 PM. A rumbling
noise warns the men to take their positions; a few seconds
later the bales of newspapers come sliding the spiral chutes
onto the moving belts from which they are manhandled onto
the trucks.  Much noise and shouting.

The front truck moves out to the city street.  As it does
CAMERA EMPHASIZES the big poster on its side.  The design
features a large pair of spectacles with heavy rims - a
trademark of Hunsecker's. (It will later be seen as the
masthead of the gossip column.)

                     "GO WITH THE GLOBE"

                            Read

                       J.J. HUNSECKER

                   "They eyes of Broadway"

EXT. BROADWAY - DUSK - N.Y.

The truck starts on its journey along Broadway.  Some shots
are of the vehicle moving through very heavy traffic (taken
from a camera car).  Others are from the inside of the
truck; as it slows down, the delivery man tosses the heavy
bundle of papers onto the sidewalk.  CAMERA following the
truck, holds it in foreground against the blazing electric
signs of Broadway and Times Square.

EXT. BROADWAY - NIGHT

The southeast corner of the intersection of Broadway and
46th Street, CAMERA, fairly high, shoots north towards the
impressive vista of electric signs, silhouetted against the
darkening sky.  Very heavy traffic and crowded sidewalks.
CAMERA descends towards the Orange Juice stand on the
corner, passing the booth which sells souvenir hats.  It
moves through the congestion of chattering passersby,
steadily approaching a smartly dressed young man, who stands
at the counter of the Orange Juice stand.  Oblivious of the
hub-bub around him, SIDNEY FALCO is concerned only with his
private problems.

He turns sharply as a newspaper truck pulls up at the curb
behind him; this is what he has been waiting for...


CLOSER ANGLE - NIGHT

The news truck delivery man tosses a bundle out onto the
sidewalk besides a newsstand.

DETAIL

The bundle of newspapers.  It hits the sidewalk with a smack.
CAMERA PULLS BACK as Sidney Falco crosses the sidewalk.  The
owner of the newsstand, IGGY, comes to pick up the bundle;
he is a grizzled gnome with a philosophical sense of humor;
Sidney snaps his fingers with impatience.  Iggy wears
spectacles and is clearly more or less blind, he has to
grope for the cord that binds the papers.

                         IGGY
            Aw Lady, if I looked like you, I'd--

                         SIDNEY
            C'mon...C'mon...

                         IGGY
                   (recognizing Sidney's voice)
            Keep ya sweatshirt on, Sidney.

Majestically taking his time, Iggy lifts the bundle to his
stand and cuts the cord.

                         IGGY
            Hey, Fresh, the Globe just came
            in -- Hey, Sidney, want an item for
            Hunsecker's column?  Two rolls get
            fresh with a baker!  Hey, hot, hot,
            hot -- etc.
Read more »
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