"Yes, very. Her hair is red... it's hard to tell without color... and the little girl grew up to be beautiful too. Her name is Natalie Wood."
"I know that name."
"No doubt. She died very young... forty-three. She fell off a boat, drunk... supposedly... with everyone else asleep. It's one of those mysteries we'll never know the answer to."
"Yeah, I remember vaguely," said Jack. "And she looks familiar."
"She did some TV in the latter years. Her husband was primarily a television actor. But she's known for movies—this one...Splendor in the Grass...Rebel Without a Cause...West Side Story...and others."
"I've heard those titles... but I don't know them," Jack said, his words languid and confessional. "I never saw any of them. My father didn't encourage it. He said that film and television were a waste of time. When I was young, my mother would only let me watch in the afternoon, before Dad got home from work."
Not much on at that time—Demarco thought—especially back in the day... just soaps and reruns.
"I like watching them now though," he continued. "...especially with you. I like hearing you talk about them."
Demarco recalled Jack's fixation with old television programming... being drawn to old movies would make sense. He was entranced right now, practically hypnotized by the screen... maybe something to do with black and white... the past... nostalgia. There was something in there that comforted him.
Comforts a lot of us.
"And you never watched old movies after you left home? I can't imagine."
"It's not like I haven'tseenmovies, D. Just more popular ones... likeJurassic Park, Harry Potter... you know."
Blockbusters... fairly modern.
"I'll watch the classics with you, Jack—all of them. You'll get no resistance from me. I'll watch old movies with you until the end of time."
"Is that an oath? I'll hold you to it."
"It is," said Demarco. "And I'll honor it. I also promise to fill your head with so much backstage info your brain will swell."
Jack smiled. "OK. What about the redhead? What's her story?"
"Maureen O'Hara? She just died a few years ago. She was—God—almost a hundred. She's buried over in Arlington Cemetery."
Jack sat up. "No way."
"Yeah," Demarco said—intoxicated with Jack's sudden interest in vintage Hollywood... a subject he'd been obsessed with since he was a little boy. "Her third husband, I believe, was high-up in the Air Force—an aviator. He started a sea-plane business down in the Caribbean that she inherited when he died."
"Fascinating."
"That's just the tip of the iceberg, Jack. She was a force... born Irish. She started acting in the 1930s... was John Wayne's most popular co-star—did at least five movies with him. She owned her own business—a dress shop in Hollywood—in the 1940s. And when she was living down in St. Croix, she edited a travel magazine that she ended up selling toUSA Todayfor big bucks. She was averysmart woman, a trailblazer."
"I'm blown away."
"By me, or by Maureen O'Hara?"
"Both. I love that you know all the history... and that she was such a... a—"
"—multifaceted? Accomplished?—"
"—woman."
Demarco smiled. "I don't think I've ever seen someone get so excited over Maureen O'Hara. I'll take you to her grave, but not before you watch some of her movies with me—and there are a lot. I'm thinking we'll start withThe Quiet Man. It's very romantic."
Jack took Demarco's hand. "I was a history buff as a kid—American mostly... I never told you that. It was just one of those things I let go. Life happened... I had to move on."
"You can still—"
