On the morning of Christmas Eve, Ronald walked out of his apartment.
At a newsstand down the street, he bought the two Hollywood trade papers, Daily Variety and The Hollywood Reporter, plus a copy of the Los Angeles Times.
"Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas!"
After exchanging greetings with the newsstand owner, Ronald walked back home, flipping through the papers. He wanted to study the ad placements as it was time to market his portrait photography business.
He thumbed through the trade papers first. There were very few ads for services, and he guessed the rates were astronomical, far beyond his budget.
He set them aside, picked up the Los Angeles Times, and turned to the classifieds section.
The classifieds were a dense, ink-heavy jungle. Everyone got a space no bigger than a block of tofu. Weddings, obituaries, lonely hearts... finally, he found the Services page.
"Hollywood Portrait Photographer, $120, available same day."
"10 years of portrait experience, good at directing subjects."
"If you are handsome, short on cash, and need an audition photo, call..."
Looking at the rates and the vague pitches, Ronald felt a surge of confidence. The market was ripe, and the competition's marketing was weak.
He found the hotline number for the LA Times classifieds, walked to a nearby payphone, and got the address for their nearest regional office. It wasn't far, so Ronald simply walked there.
As he walked, he flipped through Daily Variety. It was packed with industry gossip: greenlights, casting rumors, and on-set drama.
"Jane Fonda's Wedding Ring Sparks Controversy in New Film: Is It Appropriate for an Adulterous Wife to Wear Her Ring on Screen?"
The article was about the Vietnam War drama Coming Home. Jane Fonda played the wife of an active-duty Marine officer who has a passionate affair with a disabled veteran.
Ronald remembered Aunt Karen complaining about the movie on the phone. Aunt Karen, a Vietnam widow, loathed Jane Fonda. She felt Hanoi Jane had tarnished the honor of military wives.
He flipped the page.
"The Deer Hunter Receives Widespread Acclaim; Can It Gain an Early Lead in the Oscar Race?"
This was the film Demi Moore had wanted to see. The article noted that the studio had only released it in a single theater for seven days just long enough to meet the Academy Award qualification rules for 1978.
Barely anyone had actually seen the film, yet everyone in town was talking about it. Seeing it had become a status symbol, it meant you were a true insider.
It was brilliant marketing, building artificial scarcity to drive up prestige and demand. Ronald secretly admired the tactic as with the word-of-mouth exploding, Oscar nominations were a lock.
Arriving at the newspaper's regional office, Ronald asked about the rates and bought a four-line block for three consecutive days.
"What copy do you want to run? You can write it here," the clerk said, sliding a form and a pencil across the counter.
Ronald thought for a moment, then wrote:
"Directed by a Hollywood Insider. Learn how to take headshots that actually win roles."
"Photographer has experience in casting, directing, and cinematography."
"Contrary to popular belief, prettier isn't always better. Learn the difference."
"Basic package $99. Pro package $149."
"Call for consultation..."
"Can I include a photo?" Ronald asked.
"Yes, but it will only print in grayscale dot-matrix," the clerk replied.
Ronald pulled out a small, high-contrast print of Demi Moore and handed it over. "Put this in the top-left corner. Run the text beside it."
The clerk clipped the photo to the form. "Which days?"
"Run it starting tomorrow. Three days straight."
It was the holidays. People would be home, bored, reading the paper. Plus, with fewer businesses advertising on Christmas Day, his ad would stand out.
Receipt in hand, Ronald walked back to his apartment in Venice.
It was Christmas Eve so he called Aunt Karen and Donna to wish them a Merry Christmas. When he hung up, the apartment felt very quiet.
He had nowhere to be and thinking about his impending ad blitz, Ronald realized he had a logistical problem. When he went back to New World Pictures after the holidays to learn editing, who would answer the phone? In this business, a missed call was a lost client.
He looked up the number for RadioShack and called to ask about a telephone answering machine. The clerk cheerfully informed him that a reliable model cost nearly $400. Ronald hung up immediately.
That money would be better spent hiring a human being.
As he pondered his business strategy, there was a knock at the door. It was his neighbor, Mrs. Webb.
"Ronald, are you busy? Come over for Christmas Eve dinner. I made a turkey."
Mrs. Webb was a single mother and her daughter, Patty, was a senior in high school. Mrs. Webb used to be a waitress and was now a secretary. Given their similar working-class backgrounds, she and Ronald often chatted in the hallway. Knowing Ronald was a transplant with no family in L.A., she took pity on him.
Ronald accepted gratefully as he had dreaded spending the night alone.
Jim Cameron had gone home to Orange County to be with his wife, Sharon. Jim was a notorious workaholic, and his marriage was already straining under the weight of his ambitions. Gale Anne Hurd had flown home to her wealthy family. Ronald wasn't close enough to anyone else in the crew to score a dinner invite.
He had been invited to a few wild cast parties in the hills, but Ronald had zero interest in the cocaine and alcohol-fueled chaos of 70s Hollywood.
He walked down to the corner liquor store, bought a decent bottle of red wine, and presented it to Mrs. Webb.
When he entered, the apartment smelled amazing. Mrs. Webb was pulling a golden-brown turkey from the oven. Ronald helped set the table, and the three of them sat down.
"For the food that feeds our hunger," Mrs. Webb prayed, clasping her hands.
"For the rest that brings us peace,"
"For the homes where memories linger,"
"We give our thanks for these."
"Amen," Ronald and Patty echoed.
After the meal, they moved to the living room with cups of coffee, waiting for the local broadcast of the holiday staple, It's a Wonderful Life.
"What have you been up to lately, Ronald? I rarely see you around," Mrs. Webb asked.
"I just wrapped a job on a film crew," Ronald said. "Now I'm launching a portrait photography business. I'm trying to save up for college tuition for the fall."
"You take pictures? Could you take one of me?" Patty asked eagerly.
"Of course. Come by my apartment tomorrow, I'll take portraits of both of you it's on the house."
"That's too kind, Ronald," Mrs. Webb smiled.
"Not at all. Us East Coast working-class folks have to stick together."
"That's the truth," Mrs. Webb laughed. "We're actually from New Jersey. Right across the water from Staten Island."
"Really? Small world."
"Yep. Staten Island is closer to Jersey than it is to New York," Mrs. Webb joked. "To get to Manhattan, the center of the universe you have to take that freezing ferry."
"I know it well," Ronald smiled, remembering Aunt Karen dragging him onto the ferry for doctor's appointments.
He looked at Patty and an idea sparked.
"Mrs. Webb," Ronald started. "I placed an ad in the Times for my photography business. It runs tomorrow. But I don't have anyone to answer the phone while I'm shooting or out of the apartment. Would Patty be willing to work as my receptionist during her winter break? I can pay five dollars a day."
"What would I have to do?" Patty asked, sitting up straight.
"Just sit at the desk, answer the phone professionally, and write down names and numbers. I'll call them back when I'm free. You can read a book or watch TV between calls."
Mrs. Webb thought it over and agreed. It was safer and easier than Patty flipping burgers at McDonald's for the $2.65 minimum wage.
The next morning, Christmas Day, the ad went live.
Ronald woke up early and transformed his small living room into a studio reception area. He pushed his kitchen table against the wall, set the rotary phone in the center, and laid out a fresh legal pad and two pens.
He took the framed 8x10 portraits of Demi Moore and Nastassja Kinski and placed them prominently on the table, adjusting the angles so they would immediately catch the eye of anyone walking through the door.
Patty Webb arrived at 9:00 AM, eager for her first day of work. She insisted on being called "Miss Webb" while on duty.
"Okay, Miss Webb," Ronald said. "When it rings, say: 'Good morning, Ronald Lee Photography. How may I direct your call?'"
He had her practice the greeting three times until she sounded less like a teenager and more like a Hollywood secretary.
At 9:50 AM, the phone suddenly rang.
Riiiing... Riiiing...
Patty reached for the receiver, her eyes wide.
Ronald held up a hand, signaling her to stop. "I'll take the first one," he whispered.
He cleared his throat, picked up the receiver, and put on his best professional voice.
Authors Note:-
Sorry for being late.....
As a apology, a bonus chapter in 1 hour.
Support with power stones.