That’s Right Nate

It’s national novel writing month folks and though long time readers know I’m no fan of the printed word, I’ve been trying to sell my screenplay President Lightning. Unfortunately, Hollywood is so liberal, I’ve hit a brick wall.  If any of you are movie people reading this, let’s do lunch.   Here’s my pitch:

The year is 1936 and a dark storm is brewing over Europe.   In Germany, a mad man is planning to prove the superiority of the Aryan people when he hosts the Olympics in Berlin.   When Hitler’s goons kidnap Jesse Owens, it looks like nobody will be able to stand up to the Nazis.   In New York, a weak bodied man sits in the Oval Office as his predecessor tells him to grow a backbone.   When the hopes of the free world rest on you, even a cripple needs to stand up for his country.  He was born to lead, but he was made to run.  Franklin Delano Roosevelt is President Lightning.

It has been suggested to me that if I had a novel published, people would take my screenplay more seriously so this month I’m going to work on producing President Lightning, the novel.   I don’t know what the market for historical fiction is, but I can’t see how this novel doesn’t sell.   Keep in mind that the idea is to write the whole novel before revising it, so I know it’s a little rough.

Chapter 4: The Reckoning

Jesse Owens paced inside his cold steel cell.   Not much bigger than a couple of phone booths, the only light Jesse could see came through a the cell bars.   Jesse rested his powerful athletic body in the corner and began to sing to himself.   It was the old spirituals that comforted Jesse even now in his confinement in Berlin.   A lot of lesser men would have been praying for somebody to rescue him, but being a Republican was as natural to Jesse as being a runner was.  He was going to pull himself up by his own boot steps.

A half a world away, President Roosevelt took a deep breath and stretched his legs on the south lawn of the White House.   Standing next to him was Herbert Hoover, dressed in a long coat and his Stanford scarf.   Tucked under his right arm was Roosevelt’s faithful Scottish Terrier Fala.

“Is this really necessary Herbie?” mumbled the President under his breath.

“You know it is Franklin.   I don’t want you just fast, I want you quick too.  Now get to it,”  with that Hoover tossed the startled dog to the ground and Roosevelt began to scamper after him.

“Damn you Hoover, why does everything have to be so hard?” coughed Roosevelt, regretting his morning smoke.

“Because anything worth having is going to be hard Franklin.  You Democrats need to learn that.   It can’t all be government hand outs,” laughed Hoover.

And so it began.   Carefully, hidden from view of the Washington press corps, Hoover trained Roosevelt every day.   By May, the Olympics were looming and Roosevelt’s 100 meter time was still only 10.6, a full .3 seconds slower than Jesse Owens.   He’d never be able to compete with the Germans at this rate.   He couldn’t help, but wonder why winning meant so much to him now.   He was brought up to believe that participating in athletic competition was victory.   Now, he was training with the single minded determination he didn’t know he had within himself.   He knew now, he would do whatever it took to run their socks off.

It was good to have today off because it gave me a chance to get working on my newest novel.  It s a piece of historical fiction, which you can believe I have copyrighted.  I like it because it shows an American overcoming long odds, there’s international espionage, war, and sports–kind of like Victory.  In 1935, the Nazis worried about being embarrassed at the Berlin Olympics the next year kidnap Jesse Owens.   It looks like they will be unstoppable in track and field until a crippled President and a discredited ex-President from the other party team up to take it to Hitler.   He was born to lead, but he was taught to run.   They call him President Lightning.   Here’s an excerpt.

[INT - THE OVAL OFFICE]

FDR is in his power blue track suit sitting behind his desk in the Oval Office.   He is smoking a cigarette and he looks sullen.   Herbert Hoover is standing in front of the desk in a brown suit.  He holds a clipboard and a stop watch.   Beads of perspiration run down Roosevelt’s forehead and sweat stains mar the otherwise pristine look of Roosevelt’s track suit.  There is an uncomfortably long pause as Hoover looks like he is about to say something, but thinks better of it.

FDR: [Flicking a cigarette ash] This is insane Herbert. I’m barely out of my wheelchair.  I can’t win a race.  Somebody else will have to run.

HOOVER: Dammit Franklin! Why can’t you pick yourself up by your own boot straps.   That’s what Theodore would have done.

FDR: Damn you Hoover! I’m not him.   The other Roosevelt had two good legs.  All I’ve got is a big social program which has prolonged the Great Depression and a very unattractive wife who is even more liberal than I am.

HOOVER: If you think that’s all you’ve got Franklin, then you’ve lost already.

FDR: What do you know about it anyway?  You’re not even a real track coach.

HOOVER: [Snatches the cigarette out of FDR's mouth] Spit that thing out.   Those Germans are fast and I’m not training you so I can look foolish!  Look, I may not be a real track coach, but I am a real American and what I know is that an American is never licked as long is he’s got a breath in his body and a fight in his heart.   You think you’ve got it tough Mr. President, well I’ve got news for you.   Thanks to all your big government spending a whole lot of people have it tougher than you do.   If I hadn’t organized all those Hoover-villes they wouldn’t have anywhere to go.   You think you’ve got it tough?  Try raising a family of 8 when you’re factory just closed down.

FDR: [Angrily] I’m trying to everything I can.

HOOVER: Trying isn’t good enough Mister President.   What are you going to do?

FDR: I don’t know

HOOVER: I said what are you going to do?

FDR [Getting out of wheel chair] I’m going to run Hitler’s socks off.

WHITE HOUSE MAID: [She is a rather rotund black woman who has been secretly listenning in on the two men's conversation] Lordy Mister President, I had hoped you’d say that.   I don’t like that Mister Hitler none anyway.   You go run circles around them Nazis.   Jesse Owens was running for my people Mister President, the way I figure it you’re running for all of us too now.

FDR: I intend to Dorothy.   Now why don’t you fix me some of them biscuits you make.   All this training’s going to make me mighty hungry

[Here we have a training montage as FDR goes from being unsteady on his feet to being a world class athelete thanks to his hard work.   Show Hoover looking displeased at first, but gradually lightening up as FDR improves.   This montage not only shows FDR's ability improving, but a bond developing between the two men.   This montage is an excellent spot for an uplifting rock song.]