Science fiction, in collaboration with the idea-men and technicians of Hollywood,has been responsible for many horrors, dating back to “The Cabinetof Dr. Caligari” and “The Lost World.” But Hollywood has created onereal-life horror that tops all creations of fantasy—the child star.In this story we at last see such a brat meet Things from Alien Space.
jimsy
and
the
monsters
by ... Walt Sheldon
Mr. Maximilian Untz regardedthe monsters with a criticaleye. Script girls, cameramen,sometimes even stars quailedunder Mr. Untz’s critical eye—butnot these monsters. The firsthad a globelike head and severalspidery legs. The second waswillowy and long-clawed. Thethird was covered with hair. Theprop department had outdoneitself.
“Get Jimsy,” said Mr. Untz,snapping his fingers.
A young earnest assistant producerwith a crew cut turned andrelayed the summons. “Jimsy—JimsyLaRoche!” Down the lineof cables and cameras it went.Jimsy ... Jimsy....
A few moments later, frombehind the wall flat where he hadbeen playing canasta with theelectricians, emerged Jimsy LaRoche,the eleven-year-old sensation.He took his time. He worepowder-blue slacks and a sportsshirt and his golden hair was carefullyringleted. He was frowning.He had been interrupted with ameld of a hundred and twenty.
“Okay, so what is it now?” hesaid, coming up to Mr. Untz.
Mr. Untz turned and glared50down at the youth. Jimsy returnedthe glare. There was a sortof cold war between Mr. Untzand Master Jimsy LaRoche, thesort you could almost hear hottingup. Mr. Untz pointed to themonsters. “Look, Jimsy. Lookat them. What do you think?” Hewatched the boy’s expression carefully.
Jimsy said, “To use one of yourown expressions, Max—pfui.They wouldn’t scare a mouse.”And then Jimsy shrugged andwalked away.
Mr. Untz turned to his assistant.“Harold,” he said in an injuredtone. “You saw it. You heard it.You see what I’ve got to put upwith.”
“Sure,” said Harold Pottersympathetically. He had mixedfeelings toward Mr. Untz. Headmired the producer’s occasionalflashes of genius, he deplored hismore frequent flashes of stupidity.On the whole, however, he regardedhimself as being on Mr.Untz’s side in the war betweenMr. Untz and the world andHollywood. He knew Mr. Untz’smain trouble.
Some years ago MaximilianUntz had been brought to Hollywoodheralded as Vienna’s greatestproducer of musicals. So farhe had been assigned to westerns,detectives, documentaries, a fantasyof the future—but nomusicals. And now it was a psychologicalthriller. Jimsy playedthe killer as a boy and there wasto be a dream sequence, a nightmarefull of monsters. Mr. Untzwas determined it should be themost terrifying dream sequenceever filmed.
Only up to now he wasn’tdoing so good.
“I would give,” said Mr. Untzto Harold Potter, “my right eyefor some really horrible monsters.”He gestured at the world ingeneral. “Think of it, Harold.We got atom bombs and B-29’s,both vitamins and airplanes, andstuff to cure you of everythingfrom broken legs to dropsy. Awhole world of modern science—butnobody can make a fakemonster. It looks anything b