A Ghost Ride with Satan's Child
An old cowpoke went riding out, One dark and dusty day.
I have a confession to make. Much like Owen Meany in John Irving’s brilliant “A Prayer for Owen Meany”, I have seen my own death.
When all at once a mighty herd of red eyed cows he saw, A-plowin' through the ragged skies and up a cloudy draw.
I am sitting in the passenger seat of a seven-passenger van. Behind the wheel is the most erstwhile PA on my shoot. He is driving me to set, and I make the mistake of telling him that we are running late. Suddenly, we are in wild and furious ride reminiscent of the car chase in “The French Connection. The exception here is that we aren’t chasing anything.
Or maybe we are.
Yes, we’re trying to catch that Devil’s herd. In our case, it’s the clock, or the sun, or the time the location must be returned to its rightful owner, or the time the actress has to leave for her flight, or the actor must leave to make turnaround. We are always chasing time.
Their faces were gaunt, their eyes were blurred, Their shirts all soaked with sweat.
This PA has a face to me, or at least a visage. He’s a tall, gawky kid, wearing a do-rag, and piercings, and he has a constant smile on his face. He’s Satan’s Child.
They’re trying hard to catch that herd, But they ain’t caught them yet.
This PA worked on a film called “Lucky Stiff”, on which I was the First Assistant Director. One day at lunch, this PA, (Tom was his name) walked up to my Second Second AD (Chris) and hurriedly asked him a question as Chris was trying to eat. Chris turned to him, his fingers now in the form of a cross, and said” away from me, Satan’s Child.”
For they’ve got to ride forever on that range up in the sky, For they’ve got to catch the devil’s herd, As they ride on hear them cry!
Tom was a very enthusiastic PA. The problem was, he wouldn’t always think. We love PA’s to be enthusiastic, but we also hope they use some common sense. Tom did not.
One day we were shooting in a large, open field in New Jersey, populated by a number of cows. The sound person complained, somewhat in jest, that he wished we could get rid of this “cow noise.” Pretty soon, I look over, and there is Tom with his hand around a cow’s mouth. “What is he doing?” I asked my Second AD.
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