Born in the late 1950’s, I grew up with Bond at the movies. I tried to read the novels in my early teens, but somehow they never lived up to what I had seen on the silver screens of my local cinemas. My Father started his career as a novelist in the 1960’s, his initial success was The Liquidator, the first Boysie Oakes novel. Though he denied it for many years, Boysie was a tongue in cheek anti-hero to Fleming’s Bond. By the late 1980’s/early 1990’s, John Gardner was well established in writing his own take on Bond, and despite a few die hard fans’ complaints, his books were being very well received by fans and critics alike.
In 1989, my family had ‘upped sticks’ and moved to the USA. Dad had always wanted to live in the States. I had joined them, and was living and working in Charlottesville, Virginia. To be honest, I am not sure what year the phone call came inviting my Father to meet with Cubby Broccoli in L.A. From the invitation, it would seem that there was possible interest in buying the movie rights to some of my Father’s Bond novels. Arrangements were made and my Dad flew to Los Angeles to meet with Mr. Broccoli. No actual day of meeting was confirmed, and my father was to be given further details once he arrived in LA.
So Dad flew to LA. On arrival he is met by a limo and taken to the Beverley Wilshire Hotel. At the hotel my Father is informed that a suite has been booked for him, and that a limo is available 24/7 for his use, complete with driver. This is a Monday afternoon. Slightly confused by all of this, he calls Mr. Broccoli’s office to be informed that someone will be in contact soon. Monday becomes Tuesday and still no word on the meeting. Dad once again calls the office, and is told not to worry, arrangements are being sorted and to go out and enjoy himself. Use the limo and have fun, they said. Wednesday comes and it’s “enjoy, we will be in touch later today.”
So what does my Father do during this time? Well, my Father being my Father does a lot of shopping, living the LA. lifestyle. Wednesday evening, a note is slipped under my Father’s door. In the morning there is a telephone number he has to call at 10.30 a.m. So come the morning, he calls the number and is told that the meeting will take place this lunchtime, and that his driver will be ready to collect him at noon. Expecting to be taken to Mr. Broccoli’s office, Dad is somewhat surprised when the limo arrives at a racetrack. They go in through a VIP entrance and my Father is escorted to a private area with a great track view and fully catered facilities. Here he finally meets in private with Cubby Broccoli. He has a wonderful afternoon, a terrific time. Could not be better.
And you know what?
Over the course of their five hours together, James Bond is not mentioned!
On several occasions, my Dad tried to steer conversation in a ‘Bond’ direction but with no luck whatsoever. It would seem that horse racing, lunch, and small talk were the order of the day, but not Mr. Bond or the possible movie rights purchases of my Father’s work. On returning to the hotel he was informed that a limo would take him to the airport in the morning for a flight back to Washington, D.C.
So he had been flown out first class to California, given a suite at one of the most expensive hotels in LA, use of a limo 24/7, all incidental expenses paid for and for some bizarre reason the subject that they were there to discuss, was never discussed!
As my Father said at the time, “Simon, they inhabit another world.”
So here’s to Cubby Broccoli. Thank you for the wonderful movies that I soaked up as a young boy and man. Thank you for even considering the faint possibility of using some of my Father’s work as a catalyst for another Bond movie. And finally thank you for keeping the Hollywood tradition of the absurd alive, by transporting my Father into the lap of luxury for the best part of a week, just to have a meeting with him at which the subject and reason for said meeting was never referred to!
The movie business, don’t you just love it?
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Simon Gardner, March 1, 2009
Son of John Gardner
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