Read Online "Patsy!": The Life and Times of Lee Harvey Oswald by Douglas Brode - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Douglas Brode
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will, too!
âAlways I felt lost in a great big crowd. All those faces scratching and fighting. Then the mist would clear and Iâd see those faces. And those faces would be me ...â
At that moment Barrows did something Lee had never noticed before in a movie. Sinatra stopped talking to Hayden. Wandering around the room, he stepped up to the camera, speaking into it, as if aware that he was not only Johnny Barrows, a character in some film, but Sinatra, playing Johnny. Addressing his audience.
Or, maybe, only one person out there in just one theatre. A little man much like him, likewise trembling in the dark.
Whoah! Now, I get it. Last year, everyone thought they saw the real Sinatra in From Here to Eternity . That lovable, goofy Italian kid you wanted to reach out and hug. They were wrong. That wasnât him. It was acting . Thatâs why they gave him an Oscar. Huh!
I bet all of you sitting in the dampness of this miserable excuse for a theatre think youâre getting to see what a great actor this guy is? No, you idiots. This is him.
Why, Frankieâs even wearing his signature hat to let us in on that. I know, because I read all about the daily terrors back in Hoboken. His mother, performing abortions on teenage girls with knitting needles, earning money to buy pasta and feed her family. Young Frankie, ridiculed as the son of a mass-murderer. The guy had it as bad as me. Worse, maybe, if thatâs possible.
Which explains why Iâve always been devoted to him perhaps. Someone who comes from no better beginnings than myself, only to rise from those ashes, Phoenix-like, and become a kind of God.
It can be done. Sinatra achieved it with his God-given gift. Inside me, there must be one as well. Everyone receives something special at birth. The problem for most people is that they never discover it.
Well, that won't happen here. I don't know what it is yet, but I'll keep searching until ...
*
âWar changed everything. People began to notice me.â
Theyâll notice me, too. Once I get into a war and kill 27 men. Only I'm a lousy shot. No problem. I'll practice. Once in the marines, they'll teach me to ...
Kill! Germans, Japanese, Koreans. Vietnamese? It doesnât matter. So long as I kill somebody . Enemies of America only, though. Like Johnny Barrows, I want more than anything to be a good American. Donât ask me why, considering the bum deal I got from day one. Thatâs what I want. To be remembered as a patriot.
But ... again, now, Iâm confused ... how can Johnny assassinate the president and still remain such?
âAt five I will kill the president. At five after five, thereâll be a new president. Nothing changes. Otherwise, I wouldnât have taken the job.â Johnny came out of his forlorn reverie. âIâm no traitor,â he insisted.
Thatâs it! That explains everything. How you can kill the president and still remain a patriot.
When itâs over, Johnny insisted, heâd return to being a face in the crowd . âAfter I do this this one last job.â
Me too. Iâve got to get there. Wherever it is. Whatever it takes. Just tell me who to kill! And now, at last, I think maybe I know how to do it ... Iâve found my path in life ...
*
At 5:47, the show let out. Moviegoers drifted off, on to other things. Lee staggered away. He recalled an English teacher at Beauregard Jr. High whoâd lectured her seventh graders about Greek tragedy. At the end of a play, a truly great play, youâre not merely moved by what youâve witnessed. Something beyond that. Your life is changed. Catharsis was the word she had used.
Maybe thatâs true about Greek plays. Have would I know? It was the same old lady, best teacher I ever had, told us about fate. How it rules over free will. You do in life what you must, not what you want, and the secret is discovering your destiny. Written in the stars eons ago, whatever it turns out
âAlways I felt lost in a great big crowd. All those faces scratching and fighting. Then the mist would clear and Iâd see those faces. And those faces would be me ...â
At that moment Barrows did something Lee had never noticed before in a movie. Sinatra stopped talking to Hayden. Wandering around the room, he stepped up to the camera, speaking into it, as if aware that he was not only Johnny Barrows, a character in some film, but Sinatra, playing Johnny. Addressing his audience.
Or, maybe, only one person out there in just one theatre. A little man much like him, likewise trembling in the dark.
Whoah! Now, I get it. Last year, everyone thought they saw the real Sinatra in From Here to Eternity . That lovable, goofy Italian kid you wanted to reach out and hug. They were wrong. That wasnât him. It was acting . Thatâs why they gave him an Oscar. Huh!
I bet all of you sitting in the dampness of this miserable excuse for a theatre think youâre getting to see what a great actor this guy is? No, you idiots. This is him.
Why, Frankieâs even wearing his signature hat to let us in on that. I know, because I read all about the daily terrors back in Hoboken. His mother, performing abortions on teenage girls with knitting needles, earning money to buy pasta and feed her family. Young Frankie, ridiculed as the son of a mass-murderer. The guy had it as bad as me. Worse, maybe, if thatâs possible.
Which explains why Iâve always been devoted to him perhaps. Someone who comes from no better beginnings than myself, only to rise from those ashes, Phoenix-like, and become a kind of God.
It can be done. Sinatra achieved it with his God-given gift. Inside me, there must be one as well. Everyone receives something special at birth. The problem for most people is that they never discover it.
Well, that won't happen here. I don't know what it is yet, but I'll keep searching until ...
*
âWar changed everything. People began to notice me.â
Theyâll notice me, too. Once I get into a war and kill 27 men. Only I'm a lousy shot. No problem. I'll practice. Once in the marines, they'll teach me to ...
Kill! Germans, Japanese, Koreans. Vietnamese? It doesnât matter. So long as I kill somebody . Enemies of America only, though. Like Johnny Barrows, I want more than anything to be a good American. Donât ask me why, considering the bum deal I got from day one. Thatâs what I want. To be remembered as a patriot.
But ... again, now, Iâm confused ... how can Johnny assassinate the president and still remain such?
âAt five I will kill the president. At five after five, thereâll be a new president. Nothing changes. Otherwise, I wouldnât have taken the job.â Johnny came out of his forlorn reverie. âIâm no traitor,â he insisted.
Thatâs it! That explains everything. How you can kill the president and still remain a patriot.
When itâs over, Johnny insisted, heâd return to being a face in the crowd . âAfter I do this this one last job.â
Me too. Iâve got to get there. Wherever it is. Whatever it takes. Just tell me who to kill! And now, at last, I think maybe I know how to do it ... Iâve found my path in life ...
*
At 5:47, the show let out. Moviegoers drifted off, on to other things. Lee staggered away. He recalled an English teacher at Beauregard Jr. High whoâd lectured her seventh graders about Greek tragedy. At the end of a play, a truly great play, youâre not merely moved by what youâve witnessed. Something beyond that. Your life is changed. Catharsis was the word she had used.
Maybe thatâs true about Greek plays. Have would I know? It was the same old lady, best teacher I ever had, told us about fate. How it rules over free will. You do in life what you must, not what you want, and the secret is discovering your destiny. Written in the stars eons ago, whatever it turns out
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