Frolic of His Own (31 page)

A I'm not, I have to talk to my lawyer about it. I don't think it's something you want me to answer right now.

MR. BASIE: It is stated in the complaint.

MR. MADHAR PAI: There is not a dollar figure stated in the complaint.

MR. BASIE: That's right, because we don't know.

Q Do you have a figure in mind of what you want?

A I haven't really thought about it.

Q But you have thought . . .

A But I could very easily, yes.

Q Would you do it then?

A When the moment comes, yes.

Q This is the moment.

MR. BASIE: No, I don't think so.

MR. MADHAR PAI: You don't?

MR. BASIE: No.

MR. MADHAR PAI: What are we supposed to do, kind of tiptoe over this thing and maybe come to a special spot where we commune under a tree and you tell me about it?

MR. BASIE: For one thing, let me say to you that under the Copyright Act, you can make a choice of remedies after the trial.

MR. MADHAR PAI: Thank you. I would like to know what the witness's number is right now, if he has got one.

Q Would you please do that?

MR. BASIE: He said he didn't.

Q I'm asking you if you could do it now, if it's that easy.

A I can't.

Q You choose not to do it now?

A I choose not to do it now.

Q What are the reasons you choose not to do it now?

A Well it's not, it's very difficult for me to translate offense into money.

Q One last question occurs to me, Mr. Crease. Has it ever occurred to you to change your name?

MR. BASIE: Let me remind him he is still under oath, isn't he?

MR. MADHAR PAI: Of course.

MR. BASIE: I direct him not to answer the question.

MR. MADHAR PAI: I think we can call it a day. The witness is released. Thank you, gentlemen.

—Read the Cratylus.

—What's that, old fellow?

—I said read Plato's dialogue Cratylus, arguing whether someone's name is just a convenience or whether it expresses his true nature, if it doesn't it's not a name at all, change it any way you like.

—I'll look it up, by the way old sport I think you've got hold of the wrong end of the stick there with the Sophists. It was Plato who turned the word into a term of opprobrium wasn't it, slandered them the way he does there with Thrasymachus for his own purposes giving Socrates the high moral ground and all the rest of it? Always thought he was a bit of a fascist myself I'd like to chat with you about it some time, might even come out changing your name.

—I'd as soon change the shape of my nose.

—Had a client who did that once, wanted a nose bob and couldn't afford one so she got herself the wrong way in a revolving door and sued. What do you say, Harold?

—I'll take the Fifth.

—'Every dog is entitled to one bite.' Is that true?

—Is it the law, you mean? No.

—Well then why would he say it. What?

What he'd actually just said was —I like your outfit, where she'd come striding naked across the bedroom.

—Do you Harry? rippling her arms outstretched, —I'll get it in four colours. Meanwhile doesn't it ever occur to you to water these plants when I'm not here? He drew in his feet where she came down on the end of the bed with the newspaper. Plants? Never occurred to him, no, they were just there, pleasant furnishings like those fluted candlesticks, like the lamps, that Piranesi, she wouldn't expect him to go around watering lamps and pictures would she, one leg off to the floor and her knee drawn up parting the thatch to his gaze if he'd looked there before the newspaper interfered again with —Écrasez l'infame, of course the French are besotted by dogs, you remember those two giant hounds under the next table at Lipp's you'd know they couldn't resist it. Art vs negritude, the petit maître little James B they're turning it into an intellectual cause célèbre and the Brits, of course, a stern letter to the Times from the Pit Ponies Protective Association, my God. Do you want la Repubblica? They call the miserable creature Frugoletta, its soulful eyes brimming with the wounded innocence of the oppressed the world over. I mean you know how they treat dogs.

—They're an operatic people, Christina. In Vietnam you'd have Frugoletta on the lunch menu.

—No stop it, it's just not funny anymore, those stupid local papers down there trying to make Father sound like a monster and these foreign papers pick up the headline and suddenly it's an international incident, this stale cartoon of brutal Uncle Sam trampling the underdog. To turn a phrase, I mean my God, écrasez l'infame, why don't they simply tear the hideous thing down. CYCLONE SEVEN SEEKS NEW HOME, that was a headline wasn't it? why the Village went to court in the first place? They won their appeal didn't they?

—No demolition permit.

—Well that's ridiculous. You mean the Village can't tear it down because they haven't issued themselves a permit?

—Szyrk got a restraining order while he tries to take it to the high court so now everybody who was suing him is suing the Village, James B charging them with detaining and endangering Spot and now these animal rights people joining in with a writ for unlawful restraint, sort of a canine habeas corpus with some psychological expert testifying Spot's having a nervous breakdown.

—Well isn't it? simply ridiculous?

—But it takes a jury to say so. Little James B up there in his bandages telling them how he coaxed his beloved pet near enough to reach in and rescue him and snap, they corner Judge Crease and they've got their headline. EVERY DOG ENTITLED TO ONE BITE, SAYS JUDGE.

—Well my God, Father just lost his temper, he didn't say it in court did he?

—Wasn't even in his court, it's hardly a Federal case but they got their headline, you think their readers are going to make those fine distinctions? The ones down there who can read in the first place I mean, taking a hell of a chance with his circuit court appointment but it almost sounds like he's trying to get himself disqualified in the rest of these cases, these toymakers, the Free Spot game, the Spot dolls, figurines, keyrings and the rest of the junk with the insurance companies' batteries of lawyers in there in no hurry to settle anything, business as usual that's what they're paid for. Now he's got James B's father going after these same animal rights people, posters, T shirts with their new logo, Spot framed by those steel teeth claiming free speech, fund raising in a public cause against Spot's right to own, protect and commercially exploit his own name, likeness and persona following that Federal Appeals Court 1983 ruling for Carson in Carson v. Here's Johnny Portable Toilets and their lawyers contending this right of publicity attaches only to real people, homo . . .

—Harry he's a Federal judge! You mean with all the carnage going on in this country wherever you look that all the government can find to worry about is portable toilets?

—Not talking about portable toilets Christina we're talking about millions of dollars, that's what this country's finally all about isn't it? We're talking about free speech, about the right of publicity, names, symbols, trademarks what this whole case that I'm on is all about. I just hope your father's confirmed for the circuit court before he gets a chance to make any more headlines like this last one.

—Well my God, he simply lost his temper again do you blame him? Those obnoxious home town reporters down there bait him until they get another headline, you just said that yourself didn't you? Vilify him any way they can since this whole idiotic business started, this vicious gossip about his drinking and his three packs of cigarettes a day and when one of them got in there and saw that ghastly praying hands thing upside down they accuse him of sacrilege on top of these snide innuendos about madness running in the family, digging up any lie they can about his father in this whole Civil War mess Oscar's got himself into, printing whatever they like while you lie here stark naked and talk about free speech and Johnny's portable toilets?

—You're saying you want me to get dressed?

—I didn't say that did I? running her hand along his ankle where it came down against her, and from there her eyes without pause back up the rest of him —no, no I like your outfit.

—Only colour it comes in Madam, you'd like it with the tassel? or without.

—Oh with! running her hand up his calf, over his rising knee as he reached out an arm —no don't, don't answer it let the tape run, you can break in if it's important can't you? and the grating echo of her own voice reciting the litany, the beep, and then a voice, a filtered imitation of a voice —Oh Teen? It's Trish. It's Trish Teen you've got to call me. I've tried and tried to reach Larry, your husband Larry? They pretended they didn't know him and then they blamed me because they said I had his name wrong Teen I may have to go to prison. Even when I got his secretary he was always in conference or in court Teen it's that wretched boy, these loathsome right to life people got hold of him and had a guardian appointed for the foetus and won a court order to stop the abortion and my lawyers don't know what they're doing, they won't talk to me they just talk to each other and send me the bills and then one of them even had the impudence to call me at the hospital where Mummy died last night and I was snatched away from that marvelous new Basque restaurant everyone's thronging to, a month in advance for a table unless you're a rock star and of course it's très cher with hordes of Japanese so it's clear at a glance there's not a soul you know all simply glaring at my diamonds, I should never have worn them, the ones that were literally torn off my throat that night in the elevator after that jubilee with Bunker? These clever insurance people had actually bought them back from the thieves if you can imagine, like these shady deals for these tiresome hostages you keep reading about in the papers, it was like seeing old friends and now they have the gall to ask for the money they gave me when they settled my perfectly legal claim, isn't that why we pay these frightful premiums year after year in the first place? It just shows the lengths they'll go to, it's all sheer greed you almost want to lose your faith in human nature, I don't know what this poor boy thinks he's up to but oh, I have to tell you. I went back and bought that sweet little Lhasa, the one we saw in the pet store window coming back from the clinic? I've got to run, Bunker's persuaded me to press charges against that pitiful creature who threw the catsup on my sables when we came out of the clinic thank God it wasn't the chinchilla Mummy would kill me so I'll miss the vernissage for what's his name I can't pronounce it, are you going? I hate to miss it but Bunker insists it's our duty to stand up to these hordes who are out to destroy civilization Teen call me, I may need you. I hate to bother
Larry but he may be all that stands between me and that island, Rikers is it? remember their sign NO FOOD AT ANY PRICE and those vile hamburgers at four in the morning the night Bim stole the hearse and we all went out to Jones Beach God, those were the good times weren't they Teen, how could we know it would all turn into such a . . .

—Harry, could you . . .

—No.

—But you haven't even . . .

—I said no Christina. Don't get me into it. Better watch out yourself too when she says she may need you.

—She just means my moral sup . . .

—If she's going to court she needs a witness. You were with her?

—At the clinic? I had to go with her Harry, I mean you never know what's going to happen at a place like that and of course it did, this nicely dressed young man in rimless glasses suddenly stepping up and throwing catsup on her fur coat, something about spilling innocent blood God knows what he was, animal rights or rights to life it was quite unnerving.

—Probably both, and the gun lobby thrown in. You mean she had the abortion.

—That's why she's terrified of going to prison, you heard her. This frightful boy demanding his paternal rights as though she were some sort of brood sow, she'd literally found him on the street picking up cigarette butts and pulling newspapers out of trashcans so she invited him to dinner and the police called just as they were sitting down. He'd stolen a book in a bookstore to bring her as a gift, some science fiction nonsense about people living under water, he kept telling them it was his book, he meant he'd written it there was his name on the cover but the price of books is so appalling these days he obviously couldn't afford it but of course they couldn't see it that way till she went down there herself and ordered fifty copies to calm them down. Now he's ready to send her to prison for murdering his child. His child!

—Nobody's going to send her to prison, certainly make the world safer for democracy if they did but she'll probably just be cited for contempt and fined, a good healthy one if she shows up in those diamonds. What was she doing at a public clinic?

—She could hardly go to her own hospital, I mean not while she's suing them could she?

—You mean she's got one set of lawyers bringing this suit for foetal endangerment and another set to defend her abortion. No wonder they talk to each other.

—I suppose that's exactly why she has two sets, I mean this way she
probably counts on winning one or the other after the lesson she learned losing that dreadful custody battle over T J, she's still livid about it.

—But she won didn't she? Doesn't the boy live with her?

—That was the problem Harry. Neither of them wanted him. Of course the father paid through the nose for support and a trust fund, one of these quart a day louts in ostrich skin boots who owned most of downtown Lubbock till somebody shot him and she had to take his estate to court against six other paternity suits for a settlement, I mean that's hardly the case this time. God knows what this miserable boy thought he was up to, he's really not quite bright if you take a look at his book.