Квентин Тарантино - Once Upon a Time in Hollywood - The First Novel By Quentin Tarantino

But now the only movies shooting at the ranch are dirty movies with a western theme or grade-Z Al Adamson exploitation flicks. Also, George Spahn has gone nearly blind. The old man who was forgotten by the industry has found companionship in Charlie Manson’s “Family.” For the most part, he stays in his little house, which is perched on a hill, overlooking the western-town back lot. The house is cluttered to the gills with old western memorabilia, which George can no longer see, representing the ranch back in its heyday: Framed movie posters of old westerns that used George’s ranch as a location, and photos faded from direct sunlight of older actors who shot at the ranch. A western-saddle collection and even a couple of actual George Montgomery–sculpted cowboy and Indian statues.

And presiding over George and the whole household is Squeaky. And when it comes to taking care of George, Squeaky has proved both adept and invaluable.

This has allowed her an autonomy inside the Family dynamic that other ranch women can only dream about. For one, she stays in the house. And she has positioned herself as “the lady of the house.” A position even George doesn’t challenge. It might be George’s ranch, but at some point it became Squeaky’s household. The other girls have to do ranch work and dumpster-dive. Squeaky has to cook for George, dress George, take care of his house, and keep him company. The other girls eat rancid garbage, stale bread, ugly vegetables, bruised and rotten fruit, and sometimes have to blow or fuck supermarket employees for the privilege to pick through their trash. Squeaky cooks and eats real food that George buys. Sure, she has to throw a fuck George’s way every so often and jerk him off every once in a while. But she doesn’t really mind that much. Besides, she’d much rather monkey around with George than fuck those sleazy biker assholes that hang around the ranch. But also, since George plays the country-music radio station all day, Squeaky is really the only Family member with a connection to the outside world. But along with eating real food that comes out of a refrigerator as opposed to a garbage dumpster, the most enviable thing about Squeaky’s position, ensconced inside the house with George, is her television privileges.

Charlie doesn’t let his kids watch television. When they were children and their parents forbade or restricted their television viewing, they claimed it would rot their brain. Charlie says it will steal their soul.

The truth of the matter is, the only real way Charlie can keep control of these kids is if he controls their environment, and their reality. Charlie isn’t worried about them watching TV shows. The allure of The Beverly Hillbillies , Gomer Pyle , Get Smart , and Gilligan’s Island isn’t going to challenge his authority. It’s the commercials (the real opium of the masses) that Charlie worries about. The seductive reinforcement of forbidden fruit, which they once enjoyed but have now forsaken. He doesn’t need short films, made by the geniuses of Madison Avenue, produced with the sole aim to entice, to remind his kids of the life they’ve left behind. In head-to-head competition with the parents that they distrusted and resented, Charlie would win. In direct competition with the establishment they despised, Charlie would win. In direct competition with a philosophy contrary to Charlie’s, Charlie would win. But in direct competition with the remembered pleasures of Tootsie Rolls , Froot Loops , Clark Bars , Hires root beer , Kentucky Fried Chicken , Revlon lipstick , CoverGirl makeup , and Flintstones chewable vitamins , at some point Charlie would lose.

But Squeaky can watch all the television she wants.

While it may have been the offer of sex with Squeaky that initially sealed the deal with George Spahn, in practice, it’s Squeaky’s caregiving that makes their position at the ranch secure. Squeaky keeping the old man company. Dressing him, taking him out on walks, cooking for him, watching TV with him, describing to the blind old man what the Cartwrights are doing when they watch Bonanza.

But today Charlie and a large group of the kids are away in Santa Barbara. So as they say, when the cat’s away, the mice play.

Squeaky invited a group of kids up to the house to watch TV. Seeing as it’s Saturday afternoon, they’re watching the Dick Clark rock block on ABC. First American Bandstand , hosted by Dick himself, and then the Dick Clark–produced show It’s Happening , hosted by Paul Revere and the Raiders. Today’s guests are Canned Heat.

As befits her position in the house, the freckle-faced Squeaky is sitting in George’s comfy reclining chair, in full recline mode, bare ghost-white legs sticking out of Levi’s cutoffs stretched out in front of her, watching the television screen through dirty bare feet. The other five Family members, passing a joint amongst each other, lounge on the couch and the floor.

On the television, the theme song to It’s Happening , performed by Paul Revere and the Raiders, plays out of the little TV speaker, as the show’s opening bumper flashes by. It consists of black-and-white footage of Paul Revere and lead singer Mark Lindsay in dune buggies, hopping and bounding over sand dunes rather recklessly (so recklessly Mark Lindsay almost killed himself filming this opening).

While everybody taps their foot and nods their head to the groovy song, Squeaky hears, in the distance, a car pull up to the entrance of the ranch. Immediately, the little woman pushes herself out of recline mode, and her bare feet hit the floor.

“That’s a car,” she says out loud. She grabs the big chunky remote control, clicks the volume button two times, and listens with intent. She hears distant engine noise and the sound of tires on dirt. “That’s a strange car,” she deduces.

The young woman snaps out a military-like command: “Snake, go see who’s outside.”

“Snake,” who is the youngest of the Family girls, plops off the couch and walks from the living room through the kitchen to look out the screen door. The young girl peers through the dirty screen as her eyes search out the automobile. George’s house is located on top of a hill at one end of the ranch. From her high perch, Snake can see the whole property. She looks down what’s left of the old western movie set and at the beginning of the main drag to where people park their cars. That’s where she sees the big vintage yellow-cream-colored Cadillac.

“Do you see anything?” Squeaky squawks from the living room.

“Yeah,” Snake calls back, “a really bitchin’ yellow Coupe de Ville. It’s some old-looking dude in a Hawaiian shirt who just gave Pussycat a ride home,” Snake reports to Squeaky.

From the other room: “Did he just give her a lift?”

“Nope,” Snake informs her. “She’s bringing him down to the ranch to meet everybody. Gypsy just came out to greet them.”

Squeaky reclines back in her chair and hits the volume button on the boxy plastic remote, turning the sound on the TV up again. “Stay by the door and tell me if he starts coming this way.”

Snake watches Pussycat and the Hawaiian guy talk to Gypsy, as, little by little, other female members of the group join the circle. From Snake’s perspective, they all seem sociable, and she can hear laughter and giggles from time to time. Even “Tex” Watson rides up on horseback along with Lulu, speaks a bit to the Hawaiian guy, then rides off.

“What’s goin’ on?” Squeaky demands.

“The Hawaiian guy seems to be okay,” Snake reports. “Everybody’s talkin’ all friendly. Tex even came over and checked him out, then rode away with Lulu.”