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"fc>r'
v>(rashing: for the lalkies
THIS is the story, and a picture, of a real talkie crash that will never be seen and heard on the screen 1 Dick Grace probably has more wrecked planes and shattered bones to his credit than any other living aviator. He gets paid — and paid well — for cracking the planes; the cracked bones he throws in for good measure. Dick, you see, is a stunt llyer de luxe, and has had a hand in almost every great air picture which has come out of Hollywood.
Thus, when the moment came to film a spectacular air crash for "Young Eagles," Dick, doubling for Buddy Rogers, was called to turn the trick. Undoubtedly it meant a few smashed ribs, collar bones or legs — but that's all in his day's work.
Ten cameramen were in position. Their spot was even tougher than Dick's. They stood b^.' their machines, barely a city lot's distance from the place where Dick was to turn an airplane into shattered limber and torn cloth. If he should miss, there might no longer be ten cameramen.
Behind the grinders stood the matter-of-fact accessories to the crash — doctors and nurses, with operating instruments, bandages and antiseptics — ready for anything; ambulance, with two motorcycle cops, waiting for a quick rush to a hospital, if necessary. There was a fire engine, ready to drench the wreck. Everything ready. Everyone waiting. The suspense was terrific. Death, loo, stood by — wailing. .\ bystander who could not be ordered off the set. "Ready, Dick?"
"Yep."
"Ready, everybody?"
"All ready!"
Dick stepped toward his ship. .\t the last moment a Paramount employee dashed up, hand e.xtended.
"Here's wishing you good luck, Dick!" came the voice.
It might have been a stab in the back. Dick glared.
"• -• , — ," he said; "that's the worst luck that
could happen." Superstition seized him. The bravest fliers bow before it. He wanted to postpone the crash for a day, to escape the jinx. But there were dollar signs on every passing second; they prevailed on Dick to go. He muttered as he climbed in his ship.
He circled and circled. Sighted the spot — in the semicircle of cameras. Dipped his nose. Came screaming down for the crash.
VVhe-e-e! Crack! It was done. Dick crawled out of the wreckage, two ribs cracked. A perfect stunt crash — perfect, but nowhere near the cameras! It was a full field distant from the spot marked X.
"That so and so and so on good luck wisher! — it's all his fault," Dick swore. He drew his thousand dollars for the stunt. Twice more he diil it — and each time it was perfect — and within camera range. For the well-wisher was some place else.
The two good crashes are in the picture. The bad one shown above is in the ledgers for some few thousamls of dollars.
.\nd here's the payoff! At Paramount they're trying to charge up the cost of the n.g. crash against the department which claims the good-hearted well-wisher!