San Francisco, open your Golden Gate
You’ll let no stranger wait outside your door
San Francisco, here is your wanderin’ one
Saying I’ll wander no more
The Castro Theatre was our neighborhood picture palace back in San Francisco. Went to dozens of movies there, sometimes with Mr Grumble, sometimes with the Bograt, sometimes with both: King Kong, Casablanca, The Garden of Allah, The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek, that movie Steve’s son was in called Brokeback Mountain, etc etc etc. But the organ was always the best part.
Here’s David Hagerty between evening shows giving the best of The Mighty Wurlitzer and ending, as he always does at every performance, with an inspiring rendition of my spiritual birthplace’s official anthem, “San Francisco” (Bronislaw Kaper and Walter Jurmann, lyrics by Gus Kahn, 1936).
Just for the record, this is my first screenplay, written for two reasons:
1) Because a former black US Secret Service agent—still living—who became inadvertently involved in the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, personally asked me to write it;
2) To get back at an ex-friend, the self-described whore Stephen Gyllenhaal (yeah he’s a whore, but here’s one of his better movies), who had contracted with a dodgy production company to write and direct a feature narrative film vindicating the behavior of Kennedy’s Secret Service detail in Dallas on 22 November, 1963. (Luckily, the film company ran out of money before they even started casting.)
No production deal yet, but I know everything—everything—proven and unproven about the JFK assassination. Ask me about anything. The rifle. Marina’s uncle. Gary Powers. Oak Cliff. Where I was that day.
As I said, this is one of Steve’s better movies.