“Look mister,” he said, “I understand. I just don’t want to hear your proposition. I want nothing to do with you or television. Is that clear?”
“Wait a minute, Ben,” I said, “this is Stuart Brent from Chicago, don’t you remember?”
“Oh, Stu. Where are you calling from?”
“From Chicago.”
“Oh my God. Why did you let me run off like that? I thought you were some two for a nickel joker from a television agency. I’m sorry. How are you, baby?”
“Fine,” I said, “but I do want to talk with you about a TV series that I hope I’m going to do.”
“Sorry, baby, the answer is no. Not for any money in the world.”
“Well, how are you financially?”
“Ach, you know. Same damn thing. But I don’t care. I’m busy, killing myself with writing. I’ve got a hot book coming out soon. Be sure and get a copy. It’s really hot.”
“I wish you’d hear what I have to say. It’s really a fine idea.”