PP: Wow, shades of Twain there. "The rumors of my death" and so on. Did you actually publish that obituary? Had he seen it?
FJA: (Laughs) Yes, he had. It was very full and flattering, so I don’t think he minded it too much.
PP: Well, at least it was a complimentary sendoff that you gave him. (Forry laughs) How about George Pal?
FJA: Oh, yes, dear George and I were in Rio de Janeiro for a week-long fantasy film festival. We went strolling arm-in-arm along the seashore, when two young ladies sidled up to us. It was obvious to me what their intentions were. They said, "Oh, do you boys have the time?" I don’t know whether George was naive or putting them on but he looked at his wrist and said, "I’m sorry dear, I never wear a watch." (Chuckles) The next day, he and I went out to have lunch, and the only thing offered on the menu was Rattled-Out Turkey Cock. Now if it hadn’t of been rattled out, we might have taken a chance on it, but we passed that up.
I was very flattered that I was asked by his widow to give the eulogy at his funeral. Recently, 29 years later, I went out to his gravesite. I took the Martian Machine and laid it beside him and a chap with a video camera photographed me as I was kind of talking to George and reminding him of many happy times we’d had together. He had me in a cameo in his last film, but both he and I were cut out. We wound up together on the cutting room floor. (Laughs)
PP: Some people's entire careers end up there. (Laughs) Can you tell me about your relationship with Ray Bradbury?
FJA: Well, Ray and I are only about four years apart in age, and we’ve known each other since our teens. In 1938, I sold his first story "Hollerbochen's Dilemma." Back in the day when a movie cost 21 cents, a ride downtown to the movie palace was a dime, and a nickel bought a bottomless bag of popcorn, I used to pay him a respectable fee of "a buck a book" He’d bring his book to me and I’d finance his dates. (Laughs) Well, one time, I guess he must have had a really big date because he wanted two bucks. I guess he felt he had to come up with something extra to merit the increase in pay so he brought me a copy of the script for "King Kong", autographed by none other than the great Edgar Wallace. I must have been pretty naive not to have asked myself how a young fella here in L.A. could have gotten his hands on an autographed copy of this book from a chap over in London, but I didn’t, and I kept it and displayed it proudly.
Well, some years later, I was living in a house that could only hold about 65 people, so in order to invite all the guests I wanted, I had a birthday party with five performances; one on Friday night, a Saturday matinee, Saturday evening, Sunday matinee and Sunday evening. On Sunday evening, Ray was there, and he saw the manuscript on display. He came over to me and whispered, "Oh, Forry. I have something terrible to tell you. I wrote Edgar Wallace’s name on that manuscript!" To which I said, "You shameless scoundrel! Give me back my dollar!" We both had a good laugh, but I could tell that he regretted having parted with the book, and even though it was an expensive collector’s item, I acquired a copy for him, and autographed it myself saying, "To Ray Bradbury, from the REAL Edgar Wallace!" (Laughs)