The year was 1958, and fresh out of college at NYU, I took the first flight out to California to make my name on the silver screen. I don’t quite know what I expected, perhaps the city would be my oyster and I’d be instantly recognized for my astounding talents- from there I’d become a director, maybe even a producer. Whatever the case may be I was sure my efforts would not be in vain. Arriving alone at the airport at 11:37pm, I’d hail a cab to drive me to my apartment. This experience kicked in how unprepared I was, forgetting to even pack sheets to put on my mattress that night.

The following morning, I woke up at dawn, buying a copy of every local newspaper and a phone book. I sat down at a corner booth of a small coffee shop whose harsh fluorescent lights flickered incessantly, with dead insects trapped inside. I remember the unswept linoleum floor and the bitter, days-old coffee, which I poured in packet after packet of sugar to sweeten. Using the payphone at the back, I would spend several hours calling every studio opportunity. I left my name, asking about possible interviews, to which the common reply was “internal hiring”. The rumors were seemingly true- you had to know someone to be in the business.

My next approach was sending out resumes in excess.  I’d send out multiple to a single establishment for each division to ensure my application might be read. I installed a phone in my dank apartment, whose furnishings consisted of a clock, a side table, a phone, a bed, a small fridge and sink, and a bathroom the size of a small broom closet. The walls’ putrid yellow paint was chipped with possible water staining in the far corner. The whole thing was far from the glamour I’d expected, or the safety I’d always known before in college. I regretted my recklessness with hastily coming over. I was quickly running out of money and not a single job offer to my credit.

Then everything changed. In the middle of the night the phone began to cry out. Jolting awake, I groped the wall, fumbling to turn on the light switch. Finally I flipped it on then leaped on my bed, hastily grabbing the phone on its final ring. Catching my breath I groaned, “Hello? Charles Stewart speaking. Who is this?”

A woman’s voice answered on the other side of the phone, “My name is Madelyn Blake. I work for Magnum Pictures, and I am calling about your applications…” She paused for a moment and I heard the rustling of paper. “Yes… all seven of them. I would say you’re trying to game the system but I see that they are not all exact copies of one another. You wrote different responses to each division… So that either makes you extremely dedicated, extremely desperate, or in need of psychiatric assistance. So which is it?”

I chuckled and rubbed my eyes, lying back onto the bed. “Um, I just really need a job. I graduated from NYU, top of my class, for film production. I want to become a director someday, but I really need actual work experience outside of my college career.”

She took a deep breath in. “Well I can’t give you that job. All I can offer you is a small paycheck. We need an assistant for our west stage manager- Mike Welsh. You’d be working on the set of the new movie, To Catch a Killer. It’s small-time, long hours, but it’s money. You’d start today at 6am. Will you take it?”

I squinted at the clock. “It’s 1 o’clock right now!”

“So I guess you’d better get some sleep, unless you feel like there’s a better offer waiting…”

“No, I’ll be there. Magnum Pictures, that’s downtown right?” I mumbled.

“Yeah it is… See you at 5:30am.” She answered.

“Wait! I thought you said six!” I called into the phone.

She gave a loud exhale. “First thing you’ll have to know about show business is that if you’re on time your late, so always be early.” She hung up.

The next morning I pulled up early to studio, which, even as it was still dark, was bustling with energy. I pulled into the staff parking lot and wandered to the West Stage. Outside the studio stood a slender blonde girl wearing a green sweater and a small, golden brooch. She was hastily writing on a clipboard, frantically looking around. I walked up to her and clearing my throat, said, “Excuse me miss, can I help you?”

She glared at me, unamused. “Well clearly you don’t know who I am, so I am guessing you’re Stewart?”

I ran my hand through my hair bashfully. “Yeah, that’s me… Are you Madelyn?” I ask.

She scoffs. “To you I am Ms. Blake. You’re late. I said 5:30 am,” she looks down at her watch. “It’s 5:44am. Bad for the first day… Walk with me.”

We start to head down the corridors as she shows me around the studio. “As I said on the phone you’ll be working for Mike Welsh. First thing you’ll have to learn is that you are not irreplaceable. We started this project three months ago and within this time he’s gone through four assistants- you’re the fifth. He likes his coffee black, but he’ll only take it fresh from Beckett’s Coffee House and attests that he can tell the difference. Since he takes about four cups a day, you’ll need to go there twice a day, placing standing orders. The owner knows the drill. You should probably get four cups each time as precautions, putting the bill on the company’s tab.

“Aside from being the coffee boy, you’ll be in charge of setting up meetings; organizing his schedule; carting around his scripts, notes, and binders- all while being his call boy. You’ll sure get experience, but also get to work with some screen stars.” She turns to face me with a dead stare in her eyes. “Whatever you do, don’t assume you’re better than the work you’re doing. You have to work your butt off to even get close to success. There he is now, so go introduce yourself.” She pointed to a heftier man in a white collared shirt and grey pants, held up by bright red suspenders.

The following few weeks were a long series of errand calls. All my meals were takeout and I survived the long hours solely on coffee. I learned quickly to expect the late-night call from Welsh about his schedule or him asking me to call up actors for minor things like script notes. I had to admit though that the energy of it all was thrilling. We’d spend hours working on a single scene and the work always kept me busy.

Five months after I’d started, I saw Madelyn at Cory’s Diner, a 24/7 restaurant that actually served pleasantly mediocre coffee compared to the awful cold pots served at the studio. She was sitting by the window in a side booth alone. I took my cup over across the restaurant, being the only other customer there. “Can I sit down, boss?”

She looked up sleepily and nodded. “You don’t have to call me boss here. What do you want?”

I slid into the seat across from her. “I just want some company. Why are you up so late? I mean I actually have tomorrow off, do you?” I ask, trying to make conversation.

“No.” She states bluntly. “I don’t really get days off- part of my job description in accordance to my circumstances.”

I furrowed my brow. “Circumstances?”

She clears her throat and holds the coffee cup close in both hands, shoulders arched. “I graduated college early with honors two years earlier than you. I work ten times harder than just about any man in the studio. I live and breathe this business, throwing my social life to the wind for this position. The women in this business, even the ones who are older, are limited to actresses, secretaries, or in the costume/makeup department. I’m the only woman ever in the history of the studio to get this high. The only reason I made it is because they get me doing ten times the work for a cheap price... If I was a man, I’d probably get paid more for the amount of work I do, but still even I am expendable… I shouldn’t be telling any of this to you.” She looks up at me with tears in her eyes.

“It’s fine, and I’m sorry- but one day you’ll be running the place.” I assure her.

She scoffs. “Yeah… sure. I don’t know. Might just be a mom before that happens.” She holds up her left hand showing a big diamond ring sparkling on her finger. “I was proposed to last Thursday. Robert… that’s his name… has encouraged my work so far, but I’m not sure how long that will last. He… uh, we both want a family someday and it’s not like he’s going to leave the law firm to raise the kids. My mom died when I was young and my dad was always working- and Robert thinks that’s what made me a workaholic. Anyways, sorry I’m telling you all of this; I think I’ve had too much to drink tonight. How’s work been?” She asks.

I rolled my eyes. “Well… I certainly have learned how to deal with the intensity of this job. Now Mike, he can be a real pain with some of the stuff he’ll have me work on. Late hours can be a killer but it’s worth it though, I think. I love the work we’re doing.” I tell her.

Madelyn smiles. “Well you should come to the upper studio in production on next Tuesday. We will have finished shooting and you can come to the studio to check out the old films. I think you’ll like it.” She suggests.

“Yeah that sounds fun.” I smile and we return to silently drinking our coffee.

The next week I went over to upper studio and found Madelyn waiting outside for me. First she showed me the sound booth where animation voiceovers happened. Then she walked me through the practice stages and conference rooms. At last we made it down to the basement where there was a storage room of old film rolls- all originals. It was a vault of all the movies ever produced in the studio. Her eyes just lit up when talking about the history in this room.

She ran her fingers lightly across the canisters. “Magnum Pictures is the biggest ‘small-time’ film studio in Hollywood. I remember when it wasn’t so big.” She sits down in a metal foldout chair sitting at the end of the aisle while I continue to browse the collection. “I was six years old when I found out my passion was for film. My parents would take me to the cinema every weekend as our one big family outing. The day I learned my mother was diagnosed with leukemia I went to the movies to see the Marx Brothers’ movie: Go West. It was the last really happy memory I have of us as a family. Film was my happy place after that.” She smiled and looked off into the distance, returning back to her thoughts.

There was something different about her that was so beautiful. It was the passion she put into her work everyday. The hours were gruesome, but she never let that on- always wearing the expression like she had gotten a full night’s rest. Unlike every other girl I met at the studio, or otherwise, she didn’t constantly gush about her man. I would have hardly known she was romantically involved if she hadn’t told me such. She was truly committed to looking completely professional so she could “survive in a man’s world.”

I ended up meeting her fiancé, Robert, at the company’s Christmas party that year. He was a tall gentleman with slick back raven hair and piercing green eyes. He kept his arm around Madelyn the entire night and his eyes on every other woman. Of course she couldn’t see that. I had never seen someone with so much love in their eyes as she did for him. Under the mistletoe she kissed him, holding him tight- as if he might slip away if she didn’t. That was the night I realized she deserved better… and I wanted it to be me she looked at like that. I sure got my chance to tell her that  after several cups of spiked egg nog. Madelyn refused to acknowledge me, saying I was too drunk to even know what my own name was. That wasn’t a lie, but I did know that he didn’t feel the same way about her. Clearly that wasn’t the time to tell her this though.

She didn’t speak to me for the next few months. I’d call out to her, begging her to talk to me, but she couldn’t even look at me. So there we went till the week of the ‘big day’ came. Right before the wedding, she decided to take off early from work- her first holiday break in four years. The date was set at the Presbyterian Church on 32nd street and select crew members were invited to attend, of which I was not. Mr. Welsh’s secretary, Susan, had gotten an invite so I ended up opening up her date book as she went out for lunch.

I planned one of the those “STOP THE WEDDING!” entrances as the priest would ask if any objected. I knew she’d probably hate me forever for doing that and I got a terrible pain in my gut from the guilt. I thought it would be a greater sin though if I let her go by passively into an unhappy marriage. I guess I thought that even if it wasn’t with me, I wanted her to be with someone who deserved her.

So there I stood at the base of the church’s steps waiting for the wedding party to arrive. The priest came outside and asked me what I was doing, to which I replied that I was waiting for the wedding. He laughed and said, “What? No one told you? It was canceled… They decided not to go through with it after all.” A wave of relief washed over me- for her and for myself.

Three years later I was back at the church with Madelyn Blake by my side at the altar. We ended up starting our own film studio called ‘Blake Pictures’ where she was the CEO. We moved out of our ratty apartments, buying a house in Beverly Hill-  being proper movie producers. We’d come to have three children together. She still is the best decision I ever made.