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The life
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Warren Swil
V 1
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by Warren Swil
The Reader, San Diego
January 24, 1980
When they leave for the weekend this Friday afternoon in autumn,
employees at 1600 Pacific Highway are reassured, as they depart through
the west exit, that they work in the San Diego County Administration Center
by the sign above large double doors that has been there since 1936. When
some of them return on Saturday afternoon, however, they are more than
a little confused to find the building has suddenly become the “United
States Courthouse,” according to the new notice now affixed above the west
entrance.
Dozens of people are milling around in organized confusion outside the
wrought-iron doors directly beneath the sign, which still, however, dates
the building from 1936 and somberly proclaims the county motto, “The Noblest
Motive is the Public Good.”
Usually on a Saturday afternoon this place is deserted - only the seagulls
and a few off-duty marines wander around enjoying the lush green lawns
and well-tended gardens of the county building. Now, though, giant reflecting
screens line the walkway, huge arc lights are focused on the building’s
west entrance, miles of electrical wires are strung across the lawns and
pathways. and it’s a small miracle if even the skilled technicians can
sort out which is what.
Uniformed but friendly officers of the San Diego Police Department keep
the curious onlookers out of range of the cameras, while small groups of
people in twos and threes wait patiently for the action to begin. Hollywood
has come to San Diego this weekend for the shooting of a new movie, “Borderline.”
Inside, between the marble columns and beneath the high ceiling of the
county administration center’s main lobby, Third District Supervisor Roger
Hedgecock is the only county official in evidence. For a change, though,
he is not the center of attention – although with all the ink he's getting
for his one-minute, walk-on role in “Borderline,” one might be forgiven
for thinking he's the star of the show. He leans nonchalantly against the
counter of the spruced-up information booth in the lobby, watching and
waiting for his moment of glory.
Nearby, looking a little lost and more than a little bored, is the unmistakable
figure of Charles Bronson, the tough guy of so many movies. Dressed in
a cowboy hat and nondescript plaid shirt and pants, Bronson somehow seems
older, leaner and altogether much less menacing than he appears in his
movies; perhaps it is just the boredom, or his role in “Borderline.” In
it, he is playing a good guy, a U.S. Border Patrol officer trying to break
up a ring of alien smugglers.
The only scene being filmed this fall afternoon in the county administration
center comes just after one of the climaxes in the film (shot on a sound
stage in Hollywood). Two illegal alien smugglers - played by Michael Lerner
and Bert Remsen, have just been on trial for their part in the killing
of a border patrolman and a young Mexican child. Lerner is acquitted
and the scene begins as he is escorted from the courtroom by a phalanx
of attorneys. In the minds of the movie’s directors, at least, the courtroom
is located somewhere on the second floor of the county building.
After hours of seemingly endless preparations, director Jerry Friedman
shouts: “In your places, everyone.” The sound of his voice reverberates
inside and outside the building, echoing out of the two-way radios each
of about 12 crew-members has strapped to his belt. The cameras begin to
roll; the clapboard is slammed shut. “Scene 112, Take 4,” it says, the
white chalk scrawled almost illegibly.
Standing on top of the first flight of stairs leading up from the main
lobby of the building, almost hidden from view, the stars of the show are
poised, calm. Some of them are wearing overcoats indoors even though the
temperature outside is almost 80 degrees; under the arc lights it is closer
to 100. In the lobby, the extras hurriedly make last-minute adjustments
to their everyday costumes. “Action!” booms Friedman's voice out of a dozen
walkie-talkies.
As if someone has hit the right button these 30 puppets suddenly come
to life. The stars begin walking at a fast pace down the 15 steps into
the lobby. At the bottom they are mobbed by the onrushing extras, supposedly
news reporters, many of them toting Nikons (without film), notebooks and
television cameras. (The only on-duty reporters in the group are crew from
Channel 8 News, which has received the producer's permission to film live
shots for the local newscast; a three-part series, including the “Borderline”
shot, was scheduled to air this week.)
It is a fairly typical scene that could take place outside of almost
any courtroom in the country, recreated for the cameras. The accused is
acquitted, and no newsman wants to miss anything as the freed man leaves
the courtroom, though seldom is anything of any significance said on the
courthouse steps.
Behind the main group of about 30 people now advancing through the double
doors onto the walkway comes Roger Hedgecock, dressed in an immaculate
brown suit, smiling broadly and carrying a brown leather briefcase – the
epitome of a successful, big-time lawyer who has just won a major case.
Bringing up the rear, but still within range of the cameras, is Bronson,
a scowl on his face – naturally, since his quarry has just been acquitted.
They pass through the doorway (no one even stumbling this time), the cameras
outside capturing every nuance of their movements.
In the sunlight, more extras crowd around, pressing up close for a glimpse
of the action. The sound equipment – a large microphone suspended from
an overhead boom and draped in shrouds of cheese cloth, looking like a
boxer’s bandaged head – follows the crowd down the walkway, staying discreetly
out of range of the cameras …
Warren Swil is owner of Nexus Media, Inc., a San Diego communications
and consulting firm.
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