12 - 17 April 1965

	Run For Your Life Starring Ben Gazzara Homepage Paul Bryan's Journal 12 - 17 April 1965
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(Who's Watching the Fleshpot - Racing partnership with Pete Gaffney)

Paul's former classmate at Stanford Law School, Mark Shepard (played by Bobby Darin) has also stopped practicing as an attorney, but has gone into the travel business on the French Riviera, and Mark tries to get Paul to join his tour firm.

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Return to "Who's Watching the Fleshpot?" page or read from Paul's journal about the events of the episode below

Chronology of Events				Journal Entry

Who's Watching the Fleshpot? Paul travels to Port d'Or, and is reunited with Stanford Law School classmate Mark Shepherd who is leading the life of a beach bum while running a travel service. Paul can't find a room in town, so Mark invites him to stay at his place, but insists that Paul help him guide an American woman and her daughter around the area.				Antibes - Port d'Or, Monday, April 12 From a distance I watched Leslie board her train. I have to admit that I did love her more than a little. As an act of faith, she had asked me to leave Antibes at the same time she did, so I got a taxi for Port d'Or with an idea to surprise Mark Shepherd. Got my own surprise when there wasn't a hotel room to be had, so had to go suitcase in hand to his office. He wasn't lying in his letter. I did find him at the beach with two lovely maidens. And he offered to let me stay at his place, but put me to work in the bargain, escorting May Huston and her daughter to Port d'Or night spots. The mother is a cracker, but the daughter is a professional spoil sport. After the clubs we went to the beach and talked philosophy. It's amazing how Mark has blazed a trail for the life I intend to live, so I supported his rather existentialist line, but the daughter just branded us as not worthy of being allowed to live.
Mark and Paul take May and her daughter to Monaco, and in the evening Paul has a chat with Marcia that changes her perspective.				Port d'Or, Tuesday, April 13 We took the ladies around the surrounding towns of the Riviera, and it was fun. Just letting myself fall into whatever comes along might really be the way to go. Since I've been unable to get Pete on the phone, I stopped by his apartment building in Monte Carlo when we were there, and left a message for him to call me at Mark's. Had another philosophical talk with young Marcia tonight. She had really been dragging down the tempo of everything we did, and each move I made to be the Prince Charming of all time had no effect. So I switched tactics to Latin Lover, and all the grumpiness just melted away.
May reports a complete change in her daughter's attitude, credits it to Mark and Paul, and gives them her sports car as a bonus. That night it is stolen, but Mark and Paul are able to run after the thieves as the car is almost out of fuel. The thieves abandon it, shooting at the owners.				Port d'Or, Wednesday, April 14 May came in this morning to pay her bill, and this lady who hasn't let up one moment from being a most delightful life of the party was even higher than usual. She told us that daughter Marcia had woken up a new woman, no longer wanting to marry the lad her mother considers the world's all-time drag and stuffed shirt. I'll willingly take the credit with my Latin Lover act, and May clearly agreed, as she gave us her snappy red sports car as a “little” token of thanks. Mark was on top of the world, and said I was a quick study at picking up the ways of the Riviera, but I reminded him that's why he was always so eager to copy my class notes when we were at law school.
Mark and Paul virtually take the car apart, trying to find out what the thieves were looking for, then tune it to under perform and stand by with bicycles for a possible return of the culprits. The car is indeed stolen again, and Mark and Paul witness it taken to a garage where the thieves remove diamonds from the wheels, the gems having been previously placed in the car to be smuggled to New York when May was planning to take it home with her. Mark and Paul follow the thieves to their hotel, and just as they get the diamonds, the police enter, blaming Mark and Paul for disrupting their surveillance of a smuggling ring.				Port d'Or, Thursday, April 15 Last night the craziest thing happened. May's sports car was stolen from beneath our window. At first I thought it was Mark taking it out, but then saw him beside me. We ran down to save the car, but the thieves had just gotten it started. Because the car was going so slowly, we managed to summon up some vestige from our track & field days, and actually kept up with them until the car simply stopped - having run out of gas. When we approached, they started shooting at us before running away. Between having Henri die from diving a depth less than I did, and last night, I can't help but wonder if, instead of this lifestyle being a way of making the time I have left appear more than it is, I may have found a way of cutting it short. Mark insisted that the thieves must have been stealing the car for some special purpose, and got me to help him make a tooth and comb search of the vehicle, but we found nothing. He was convinced that the men would come back and try again, so I tuned the car down to make it perform poorly enough for us to follow behind on bicycles. Now, we're just waiting to see what happens.
May and her daughter depart Port d'Or, and Paul tells Mark that he won't be able to stay. He goes to Monte Carlo, and makes a deal with Pete Gaffney to set up a racing team.				Monte Carlo, Friday, April 16 Sure enough, they did come back, and drove the car - sputtering - to the garage that fixed May's car when it wouldn't start the first night we all went out. Mark was right! They had stashed something inside. Diamonds! We followed them back to their hotel. One went in, and the other drove our car away. We cased the man's room when he went down the hall to take a bath, but the second one surprised us, and we had only a moment to hide before he walked in. I wanted to do some “living,” but think my heart might give out before anything else if I keep this up. The first guy came back, and I thought we'd at least be able to get away safely after they left - but then Mark's wrist alarm went off. We wuz caught! No real acclaim is due for trying to defend ourselves. The two were so disorganized that they collided, and knocked each other out while going for us. We searched in the first guy's bathrobe pocket, and there was the pouch of diamonds. Ours for about 30 seconds - until the police started pounding on the door. It appears that we bungled into their massive surveillance operation to break a Riviera-wide smuggling ring, and they were expecting the pair to lead them to the bosses. We were lucky to get out of the police station with nothing more than a reprimand. Outside we ran into May and Marcia about to depart to the US, and Mark gave them the wrist alarm that got us into so much trouble a couple hours earlier. Of course, he hid the fact that we didn't have the car anymore. Went back to the apartment and had a good snooze, to be wakened at noon by a call from Pete. No sooner did we hang up than the police rang and said they'd found May's car - no worse for the wear. Mark drove me to Monte Carlo, and we parted with a promise to do it again sometime.
				When I rang the door Pete's first words were, “did you elope?” and “where's Kate?” I managed to gloss over his inquiries by saying that we broke our engagement, and as a result, I decided to leave for my extended vacation a little early. He gave a long moment looking at me as if he didn't believe a word. Then he said I was very welcome. And didn't bring up the subject again. We've known each other too long for me to get away with more than one lie to him, but at the same time, the amount of trust that's been built up over 20 years means that I have come to a brother who will accept anything. He appreciated the fact that I didn't want to talk about leaving San Francisco, so I entertained him with my adventures in Antibes and Port d'Or. He spoke glowingly of Mark Thurston - as a driver and a man, and referred to qualities that I had witnessed in Leslie. Over dinner I broached my idea - which has been gaining fullness since the day I was in the hospital - seems like weeks ago. Said that I was thinking of extending the vacation that had been planned, and might even take a year or two off from the practice. He seemed to think it was an interesting idea - though Pete always speaks approving words at things I say while simultaneously giving me a sceptical look as if to say I'm crazy. Then he interrupted my flow of conversation by asking, “if you're not going to practice, who's going to be my lawyer?” I moved forward by saying that I could continue to do that, and he gave me The Look. But surprisingly, when I told him that I wanted to sell my share of the practice and invest it in a racing venture with him, it disappeared from his face, and he asked, “how much money are we talking about?” He explained that, depending on the amount, there were various levels we could consider collaborating, then said, “this has something to do with Kate, doesn't it?” I told him that he had to believe me that it had nothing to do with her. He nodded, and asked if I got the bug, navigating for Leslie. “In other words, are you investing to participate?” I told him that he knew that would depend on whether I was up to scratch, and we left the matter for him to think about for a while. I said that I'd try and see him race in Sweden in May, but we made a definite date to meet in Paris in June when Pete will be driving at the AVUS, and I could get some informal time to navigate for him at a rally afterwards. If I pass the test, he says I could take the seat for a test at Trieste, the race where we'd planned to watch him drive on our honeymoon Meanwhile, he's suggested that I get out on the road and do some long-distance driving, especially off main roads where I could work on the curves, so I've decided to fly to Chicago tomorrow, and start going east.
Paul flies from Nice to Paris with Pete, then on to Chicago				Nice - Paris - Chicago Saturday, April 17 Pete and I flew to Paris, and were met by one of his lady friends - in fact, a girl I knew slightly from San Francisco, June Bradley, who keeps an apartment in Paris. In fact, she seems to have places all over the world. One of her father's companies used to employ our firm from time to time, and June suggested that if I were in Florida at the end of the month, I should drop in for a clam bake. I just might. Strange sense of homecoming, landing in Chicago. It's the US, but not San Francisco.

18 - 30 April 1965 (Never Pick Up A Stranger & This Town For Sale)