Twlight Zone Accident | The Baby Mogul | 1

American scandal uses dramatizations that are based on true events. Some elements, including dialogue, might be invented, but everything is based on historical research. It's the early hours of July 23, 1982, at the County Sheriff's Department in downtown Los Angeles, California. In the homicide office, 36-year-old Sergeant Tom Buds is alone on the night shift. He's stretched out on a thin mattress spread across two desks. He's got his shoes off and a half-red book lies on the floor beside him. Buds has already worked a full shift today, and he's taking the opportunity to get some much-needed rest when the silence of the empty office is interrupted by a phone call. Bud rolls over and glances at the clock. It's 3 a.m. He groans, sits up, and grabs the telephone. Yeah, Sergeant Buds, homicide. Sorry to disturb you, Sergeant. Buds recognizes the voice. It's a deputy from the substation in Santa Clarita, 30 miles northwest of Los Angeles. Bud cradles the receiver under his chin and grabs a pen. Hey there. Well, what do you got for us? Warrior Brothers is shooting a movie up at Indian Dunes and a helicopter's just crashed on set. We've got three dead and six injured. Buds writes it all down. When did this happen? About half an hour ago. So what, 2.30? About that. All right, any idea what happened? Sounds like a special effect went wrong. Something like an explosion hit the helicopter. The injured have been taken to the hospital at Valencia. Are they badly hurt? I don't know. I don't think so. But we've got three bodies. Are they still on the scene? Yes, sir. Any witnesses? Around 150, apparently. The entire crew was there. It was the new Steven Spielberg movie. Well, yeah, he's one of the producers anyways. Wow, was he there? No, he's an executive producer or something. So he's not directing it? No, that's John Landis. He did the Blues Brothers, I think. I didn't see it. All right. I'll talk to the lieutenant. You said Indian Dunes, right? Remind me. Well, from the interstate, you'd want to head down the off-ramp at 126. Go west for a couple of miles, and you'll see a sign for Newhall Land and Farming Company. They own the property. We should be there within the hour. I'll make sure there's someone at the gate to meet you. All right. Thanks. Oh, and Sergeant, just so you know, two of the victims were kids. Sergeant Buds reports to his superior and orders an explosives expert and a crime scene photographer to join him. From the sheriff's department, it's a 40-mile drive to Indian Dunes. But the roads are quiet this early in the morning, and it's not long before Buds is on the freeway, speeding north through the Hollywood Hills. He doesn't know what he's going to find at Indian Dunes. Right now, everyone seems to think it's just a tragic accident, but it's more than that. Buds is about to walk onto the scene of one of the most controversial incidents in Hollywood history. You're listening to the first episode of This American Scandal Season. With Wondery Plus, you can binge the remaining episodes, listen to new episodes early, and explore more exclusive seasons completely ad-free. Start your free trial of Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify today. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American Scandal. In the early 1980s, the director John Landis had just turned 30 and was a rising star in Hollywood. He was part of a new generation of movie makers and studio executives. People like Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, young men and women who were tearing up the rulebook and delivering box office success. Landis already had a string of cult movies behind him, including National Lampoon's Animal House and The Blues Brothers. Later, he would go on to direct blockbusters like Trading Places and Three Amigos. But all of his career success would ultimately be overshadowed by the terrible accident that took place in 1982 on the set of Twilight Zone, the movie. Three people, including two small children, were killed when a helicopter crashed during the filming of a dramatic set piece. John Landis would always deny that he was to blame, but for years he would face accusations that it was his recklessness and a casual disregard for the rules that had been the root cause of the accident. The tragedy would forever change how movies were made in Hollywood, and for John Landis, it would be a stain on his life and career he would never be able to erase. This is Episode 1, The Baby Mogul. It's 1958 at the Crest Theater in Los Angeles, California. Eight-year-old John Landis stares through the darkness, his eyes wide with amazement. Up on the vast screen, the heroic Sinbad battles a sword-wielding skeleton warrior. Landis can hardly keep still in his seat as Sinbad leaps and slashes, just avoiding the skeleton's blade. It's Landis' first time seeing a grown-up movie, and it's all so exciting, so real to him that he feels like he's part of the story, fighting right alongside the heroes. The movie is the seventh voyage of Sinbad, and even when he's back home, Landis can't stop talking about it. He has a million questions about the story and about how the extraordinary special effects were made. His mother Shirley doesn't know a lot about the movies, so she isn't much help. But there is one question she can answer. When Landis asks her who was in charge, who could have created something so wonderful, she replies, the director. And at that moment, young John Landis knows what he wants to do with his life. He's going to Hollywood to become a director. It soon becomes an obsession. Landis watches movies almost every day, and he reads every book about the industry he can get his hands on. But even for the most committed fan, breaking into the movies isn't easy. Landis doesn't come from a film family. His mother and his deceased father are from the Midwest, and the family only moved to California a few years ago. They don't know anyone in Hollywood. But Landis isn't entirely without connections on the West Coast. His great-uncle is a judge in Los Angeles, and it's with his help that Landis eventually gets his foot in the door. After dropping out of high school, in 1967, Landis gets his first job in Hollywood as a mailboy at 20th Century Fox. It's a dream come true for a young film buff. Hanging around the studio, he gets to meet some of his heroes, like the legendary British director Alfred Hitchcock and the actor Cary Grant. But Landis wants to be far more than just an adoring fan. He wants to be famous, too. Landis may not have much experience or training outside the mailroom, but he's determined and unwilling to take no for an answer. And in 1969, those traits take him across the Atlantic. At the age of 18, he lands a junior position on Kelly's Heroes, a comedy action film shooting in Yugoslavia starring Clint Eastwood and Donald Sutherland. A year in Europe follows where Landis works on a series of spaghetti westerns. On some, he's a production assistant. On others, he's an actor. but most frequently he works as a stuntman. With little training, he's thrown off horses and shot at for $20 a fall. In 1971, he returns to Los Angeles. He's had a lot of on-set experience for a man who's barely 20, but still he struggles to find work in Hollywood. So eventually, in frustration, he decides to take matters into his own hands. Along with a pair of friends he made in Europe, Landis writes and directs his first film. With the horrifying creatures of the seventh voyage of Sinbad still in his mind, he decides to make his own monster movie. Schlock has a budget of $60,000 that Landis scrapes together from his personal savings and friends and relatives, but it's still not enough to match his ambitions. When he can't afford to buy the car he needs for a particular stunt, he decides to rent one instead. After shooting the scene, he returns the wrecked vehicle to the rental car company and lets an insurance company pick up the bill. Still, even cost-cutting tricks like that don't mean Schlock makes a profit. For a year after its completion, the film remains unreleased, and Landis struggles to find a job of any sort. But then he gets an unexpected boost from one of the biggest names in entertainment. By 1973, the comedian Johnny Carson has been a familiar face on American television for more than a decade. Somehow that year, Carson is shown Landis' little movie, and he loves it so much that he invites Landis onto his show. With an audience of millions, The Tonight Show is one of America's most popular TV programs. And while Landis interview with Carson is only a brief one it gives him the platform he been looking for After his appearance he finally secures a distributor for Schlock but more importantly it brings Landis to the attention of three young would movie producers back in L.A. Like Landis, Jim Abrams and his brother Jerry and David Zucker are still in their 20s and just starting out in Hollywood. They run a comedy troupe called Kentucky Fried Theater and are looking for collaborators to bring their sketches to the big screen. And after seeing Landis on The Tonight Show, they think they've found their director. Still, it takes them several years to raise the money they need, and it's 1977 before the Kentucky Fried movie appears in theaters. The $600,000 production becomes a sleeper hit on the college circuit, and from there, Landis' career as a director rapidly takes off. He gets his big break when he's hired by Universal Studios to direct National Lampoon's Animal House. No other director in Hollywood wants to touch the script. Few believe a frat house comedy will have any mass market appeal, but Landis is happy to take the job, and he turns it into box office gold. Despite mixed reviews from the critics, the movie starring John Belushi becomes an instant cult classic. Produced for a modest budget of under $3 million, it makes over $100 million in theaters. Having lived with his mom for years and earned next to nothing, John Landis is suddenly the toast of Hollywood. Hoping to strike gold once again, in 1979, Universal offers Landis the comedy-action musical The Blues Brothers. Based on a series of Saturday Night Live sketches, this film will star Landis' previous collaborator John Belushi, as well as the Canadian comedian Dan Aykroyd. At $16 million, the Blues Brothers budget will be Landis' biggest yet, and he intends to put it to full use. In the summer of 1979, the production takes over a recently shuttered mall in Harvey, Illinois. And from his position beside a camera, the shaggy-bearded Landis oversees final preparations for what is perhaps the most complicated sequence of the movie, an epic car chase unlike any film before. No expense has been spared. The parking lot outside the mall has been filled with 700 new cars. Inside the mall, 30 elaborate storefronts have been built and fitted out with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of merchandise, and Landis intends to destroy it all in a complex sequence involving several cars traveling at high speed in confined spaces. There's some talk that Landis won't be able to pull it off, but nothing about this production has been easy. Dan Aykroyd wrote a 300-page script that Landis had to cut down into something vaguely coherent, and John Belushi is so high on drugs he can barely get through his scenes. But Landis isn't discouraged, even if the script and his lead actor are a mess. He's going to make sure the special effects and set pieces can carry the film. In fact, he wants to make The Blues Brothers the biggest stunt movie of all time. Hundreds of specialist stunt performers have been flown in from Hollywood for this sequence alone, and Landis wants everything to look real. That's why they're going to drive real cars through a real mall, smashing through real glass. He knows he doesn't have to do it, but it will all be worth it for the perfect shot. The cast and crew take up their positions. The call of action echoes through the mall, and then, as Landis gleefully looks on, chaos is unleashed. With a roar of its engine, the hero car, the Bluesmobile, smashes through the wall of a toy store. Shelves collapse, and stuntmen and women scatter as the car accelerates through the set. By the time Cut is called only a few seconds later, the store is almost totally destroyed, and John Landis is delighted. But between its elaborate stunts and its troubled leading man, The Blues Brothers goes vastly over budget and behind schedule. Its original cost of $16 million balloons to almost $30 million, making it one of the most expensive comedies ever made. Given the cost, Universal Studios hopes for another monster hit from Landis. But while it's not a flop, The Blues Brothers is also not a runaway success. In total, the movie makes just under $60 million at the American box office. And although international earnings double that, it seems that John Landis' career has hit its first real bump in the road. Universal is apparently unwilling to trust him with another big-budget blockbuster right away. So the studio passes on Landis' next pitch, the comedy, horror, and American Werewolf in London. Landis eventually makes the film with independent financing at a far lower budget. But it isn't a critical or financial hit either, with some reviewers accusing him of concentrating too much on the film's set pieces at the expense of its characters. Some in Hollywood begin to suggest that Landis' career is stagnating, that he's not shown he's capable of directing anything more than splashy comedies. So Landis hires a publicist to help burnish his image, but it seems in the eyes of some, at least, that the shine is coming off of one of the industry's golden boys. For several years, Landis has been part of a set of young directors, producers, and executives that the press have dubbed the Baby Moguls. They're a mostly collaborative group who often work and socialize together. But there's still a hierarchy, and there's no doubt who's on top. 35-year-old Steven Spielberg has already directed some of the biggest hits in movie history, and he's a household name all around the world. Landis and Spielberg first met back in 1975, when Spielberg was making his first summer blockbuster, Jaws. Landis pitched some ideas for a new sci-fi project Spielberg was working on, but nothing came of that discussion. Since then, their paths have crossed several times, sometimes as friends, sometimes as unspoken rivals. But they've never really collaborated. So Landis is surprised when it's Spielberg who offers him a way out of his recent difficulties. In March 1982, Spielberg invites Landis to dinner, saying he has an idea he wants to discuss. So, you know, John, I loved American Werewolf. Oh, thank you. The makeup, transformation scenes especially, they were so great. Terrifying. Yeah, but great. I wanted to do as much as I could in camera, you know. No cheating. I wanted to take this fantastical character, a werewolf, and shoot it like it was real. I really asked the impossible of the makeup team. Well, they did such a good job. Still would have liked more, though, you know. I would have done it all in one take if I could. I bet you would have. But I didn't invite you here just so I can sing your praises. Well, don't let me stop you, Steve. No, what I actually want to talk to you about is television. Well, at least it was. That's a bit of a riddle. Spielberg grins. and leans forward across the table. The Twilight Zone. The Twilight Zone. You watch it when you were a kid? Didn't everyone? I loved that show. I did too. Warner Brothers has got the rights, and they've asked me if I'm interested. So you said yes. Of course I said yes. It's The Twilight Zone. Well, what I was thinking of was an anthology movie. Four segments, each as long as the original TV show. Each with a different team, a different writer, and a different director. You direct one of them? Yeah, and I'd hope you would too. Who else have you approached? You're the first person I've spoken to. Landis can't help but smile. Okay, well, who'd have final cut? Because except for Kentucky Fried Movie, I've had total control of everything I've done. Well, you'd have final cut, I assume. I don't want to be supervising. I don't think you need it. All right, great. And would these be remakes of episodes from the show or original ideas? I think we can do whatever we want. That's a great thing about The Twilight Zone. It's malleable. I figure it's just a fun little project. A few weeks of shooting, an opportunity to experiment. What do you think? Landis picks up his glass and looks into his drink for him. I think I'm offered every damn comedy script in town, and I want to try something new. By the end of the dinner, John Landis and Steven Spielberg have shaken hands on the outline of a deal. Landis is delighted. The Twilight Zone first aired on television when he was nine years old, and its mix of fantasy, horror, and sci-fi has always appealed to him. But this new project is far more than just an exercise in nostalgia. Landis is desperate to prove to Hollywood that he can do more than make an audience laugh. He wants to make people think, to make them cry. As far as he's concerned, Twilight Zone the movie is the perfect opportunity to show just how much he's capable of. The End Landis will also get complete creative freedom on his segment, including Final Cut, provided he delivers the film on time and on budget. With Landis and Spielberg on board, the Twilight Zone team is rounded out with the creator of Mad Max, George Miller, and Piranha director Joe Dante. The movie will effectively be four short films, each made by a completely different team. Spielberg, Miller, and Dante all choose to remake classic episodes of the Twilight Zone television series. Landis is the only one who decides to write something original. He doesn't just want to frighten or entertain the audience. He wants to show he can do more than that So he determined to make his segment more profound and more political than anything else in the movie While he gets to work on the script his production team gathers at Landis office on the Universal Studios back lot Even though Twilight Zone the movie is a Warner Brothers project, Landis has insisted on keeping his usual production office at Universal. The lot is a working studio with dozens of sets and sound stages. It's also a popular tourist destination. But as visitors pass by on their guided backstage tours, most of them don't pay any attention to Building 71, a nondescript cabana-style bungalow tucked away in the corner of the lot. But behind its doors, there's a flurry of activity. Casting, crew hires, location scouting, even catering is all being organized by Landis' team out of this one small building. The office is a maze of five small rooms. The thin walls do little to mask the sharp clatter of typewriters or the constant ringing of telephones. Desks are shared, but still production staff can often only find space to work out in the narrow hallway. Sitting at the center of this chaos, at a table covered in budgets, schedules, and contracts, is the man in charge of it all. With his sharp suit and perfect tan, producer George Folsey Jr. is perhaps the most put-together thing about the entire Twilight Zone office. Folsey is not like Landis. He's more than a decade older, and he grew up in the movie business. His father was a famous cinematographer. So Folsey has connections all over town, and as pre-production ramps up on Twilight Zone, he's calling in all the favors he can. He doesn't have long to get everything organized. He's used to tight schedules and low budgets. He's been with Landis since the schlock days. But the plan is to start shooting Landis' segment of Twilight Zone at the beginning of July, and that's just over two months away, with much still to do. As Folsey makes yet another phone call, there's a knock on his door. He looks up to see a young studio messenger holding out a manila envelope. Folsey takes it with an impatient nod. He's been waiting for this. Quickly finishing his call, he rips open the envelope and slides out the document inside. It's John Landis' Twilight Zone screenplay, freshly typed up from his handwritten pages. Olsey calls out to the hall for someone to shut the door to his office, then he leans back in his chair and starts to read. The first draft of the script is dated April 15th. Simply titled The Landis Segment, the story focuses on Bill Connor, a foul-mouthed racist alcoholic who's hit by a car and thrust into the Twilight Zone. Over the course of 20 pages, Landis has Connor teleporting into the bodies of those he's mistreated and abused in the past. He becomes a Jewish man, fleeing the Nazis in wartime Europe. He's then transported to the 1950s, where he's a black man in the American South, hunted by the Ku Klux Klan. And finally, he becomes a Vietnamese farmer, being attacked by American troops during the Vietnam War. But when the production team gets notes back from the executives at Warner Brothers, it's clear they're not happy. Conor is just too unsympathetic for the studio's tastes. He still seems to be the same bigot at the end of the story as he was in the beginning. There's no cathartic act to show that he's changed, to make his extraordinary journey seem worthwhile. So Landis goes back to his typewriter. In the next draft, he adds a spectacular final scene that shows Bill Connor not just getting his comeuppance, but learning a lesson. Landis' new finale is still set in a Vietnamese village, but now it comes under sustained attack from an American helicopter. and Connor risks his life to rescue two village children. With explosions and gunfire lighting up the night sky, he carries them across a river to safety. It's exactly the stirring moment of redemption the studio executives have been looking for, and in June 1982, they approved the script. The new final scene will require an extra day of shooting, though, and all the explosions and simulated gunfire will mean the segment's budget has to be increased as well. But in many ways, the biggest complication created by Landis' latest draft isn't the schedule amendments or the pyrotechnics. It's the two Vietnamese children Bill Conner is meant to rescue. On paper, it might not seem like a major change. The boy and girl have no lines and are little more than props for Conner to carry around. But this small addition is a big potential headache for the Twilight Zone production. There are strict state and federal laws governing the use of children in television and film. These were introduced in the wake of several scandals where child actors were exploited or abused. The most notorious case was that of Jackie Coogan. Coogan starred alongside Charlie Chaplin in some of the most successful films of the silent era. He made millions of dollars from his child acting career, only to discover that when he was older, his parents had taken all his money and left him with nothing. This controversy led to new laws designed to protect child actors' legal and financial rights. Over the years that followed, other rules were introduced, ensuring that minors couldn't work more than a few hours a day, that they received any necessary education while filming, and that they were always accompanied by suitable chaperones. For a production that is already working on a tight schedule, it's a logistical challenge the Twilight Zone team didn't really need. But before they can begin to work out the practicalities, first they have to find the right kids. So on June 16, 1982, Landis and producer George Folsey meet with the firm's casting agency at the production office at Universal Studios. 47-year-old Mike Fenton is one of the most respected casting directors in Hollywood. He's joined by a younger colleague, Marcy Leroff. They discuss all the main roles with the Twilight Zone team, but as the meeting continues into the evening, Leroff grows increasingly concerned about the two children in the final sequence. When the group takes a short break, she shares some of her worries with her boss. I don't know, Mike. I just don't like it. This entire village scene sounds kind of dangerous to me. Talking about shooting at night with a helicopter? Explosion effects? They want to put two kids into that? Fenton glances back at the lights of the production office behind them and walks a few yards farther away, beckoning Lerov to follow. He lowers his voice. Look, I know what you're going to say. It's against the law. Kids that young cannot work those hours. I've tried to say something, but I don't think they're hearing me. Well, you know what directors are like. They always want to push things. Well, then don't we need to push back? Make it clear that what they're asking for is impossible? He's becoming a big name, Marcy. Well, even the biggest names have to obey the law. And I'm not suggesting anything else, of course. I just mean that we should think about this from a diplomatic point of view, a strategic point of view. This isn't just about John Landis or one film we're talking about. This is Warner Brothers. This is Spielberg. We don't want to burn any bridges unless we have to. But we can't do what they want. Not legally, not morally, right? Fenton thinks for a moment. Well, you've read the script. These kids, they don't have any lines, do they? No, Landis said they're not speaking roles. All right. So what I suggest we do is go back inside, and when they bring it up again, I'll say we're very sorry, but that's not something we can help them with because we cast actors, and actors have lines. What they want are extras. Oh, Mike, I don't know. You're absolutely right that we can't do this, but this lets us back out without hurting anyone's feelings. Trust me, it's going to be better than starting a big argument. You've got a long career ahead of you, Marcy. You don't want to be making enemies too early. When they go back inside the production office, Mike Fenton tells John Landis and George Falsey that his agency will not be able to help them find the two children for the village sequence. The way Marcy Leroff later remembers it, Landis doesn't take the news well. Gruffly, he insists that he doesn't need their agency's help and says to hell with you guys, we'll get them off the street ourselves. The meeting comes to an end soon after. It'll be up to the Twilight Zone production team to find the children now, but they won't make any changes to their plans just because kids are involved. Landis is determined to shoot his spectacular finale at night, on location, with a real helicopter and real explosions, and nothing will stop him from getting the shot he wants, even if it's against the law. It's mid-June 1982. The beginning of principal photography on Twilight Zone the movie is just two weeks away. And with the child performers for the final scene now being recruited internally, Mike Fenton's casting agency focuses on finding actors for the other roles. The most important is the main character, the racist barfly Bill Connor. Several actors are considered, but the casting team soon lands on one frontrunner, 52-year-old Vic Morrow. Morrow first came to national prominence back in 1955, when he made a critically acclaimed debut opposite Sidney Poitier in Blackboard Jungle. Other films followed, with Morrow playing a series of young hoodlums, before he landed a starring role in the World War II television drama Combat. Morrow played Sergeant Chip Saunders a tough soldier with a heart of gold one who led his squad of men through D and beyond Combat was a big hit and for a time Morrow was one of the most famous and highly paid actors on American television But Combat ended after five seasons in 1967, and in the 15 years since, jobs have been harder to come by for Morrow. He's appeared in several TV movies and directed episodes of long-running dramas like Quincy M.E., but he's never had the big-screen success that was once predicted for him. And in recent years, it seems that even the TV producers have stopped calling. Still, when Morrow is suggested to the Twilight Zone production team, director John Landis and producer George Falsey Jr. are immediately interested. They remember him from combat, so they know he has the physical presence they're looking for. But they're also convinced he has the acting chops needed to portray both Bill Connors' gruff bigotry as well as his more sympathetic turn over the course of the story. So to Vic Morrow's surprise and delight, he's soon cast in the part. Excited, he calls up a friend and tells him he's finally getting the big shot he's been waiting for, the chance to rebuild his career. A meeting is quickly arranged with John Landis and a few other people from the production team at Morrow's home in the Valley. When he hears the doorbell ring, Morrow springs to his feet and smooths out his shirt. He tells himself not to be nervous. The director who's come to see him is only in his early 30s, little more than a kid, and despite everything, he is still Vic Morrow. But he still can't help but thinking how much is riding on this movie. Morrow opens the door and Landis bounds in, a wide grin on his face. Loping in behind are two others. Morrow shakes hands with both of them. One is a short and muscular stuntman with dirt under his fingernails, and the other is a more slender man with a mustache from the Twilight Zone production office. Morrow shows them all through to the living room, where he has his copy of John Landis' script lying ready on the coffee table. The men take their seats, and then Landis immediately starts talking. There's sort of an irrepressible energy to Landis. Even when he's sitting still, he looks to Moro as if he's about to burst out of his chair. He talks fast, making constant jokes and little asides that Moro isn't sure anyone else at the table fully understands. But Moro makes sure he laughs and smiles along with the others when he feels he should. This is an acting job, after all, and the last few years have been hard for Moro. It's not just his career that's stagnated. His private life has been a mess, too. He's gone through a series of stormy relationships, and for a time, he was drinking too much. He's cleaned himself up, but still, he doesn't want the young Landis to start having doubts about his new leading man. So when the conversation turns to the film's stunts, Moro insists he's happy to do all but the most dangerous scenes himself. He has plenty of experience from his years on combat, after all. Moro is a more cautious guy than he lets on, but he wants to show his enthusiasm, and he tells Landis how much he's looking forward to getting started. So with Mauro on board as Bill Connor, production begins on the Landis segment of Twilight Zone the movie on July 1st, 1982. The first scenes are shot on the Universal backlot, with Bill Connor fleeing Nazi soldiers in wartime France. It all goes smoothly at first. Unlike most film productions, they're shooting the script basically in order, and once they've finished the 1940s scenes, they'll move on to the sequence set in 1950s Mississippi. Only on the final days of the shoot will they tackle the Vietnamese village sequence. But as the days pass and the scenes are ticked off one by one, the production has a growing problem. They still haven't found the two children they need for Landis' big finale. After Mike Fenton and his agency declined to help, Landis delegated the job to producer George Folsey, but it's proving a lot harder than either of them expected. Folsey knows he has to keep things quiet. What they're planning to do violates the state labor code. Kids can't work these hours at night or around the planned special effects. If anyone reports them, the production could be shut down. But Folsey figures he just has to keep the kids a secret until the scene is in the can. At that point, it won't matter. They'll probably get a fine from the authorities when word gets out, but by then, they'll have what they need. Still, it all means Folsey can't issue a public casting call. Instead, he can only put out quiet feelers. He asks around if anyone knows any Asian children who might be suitable, but he doesn't have any luck. Then he remembers his old friend, psychiatrist Dr. Harold Schumann. He volunteers at a community mental health center in L.A. that has a large Asian clientele. So with the clock ticking, Folsey calls him up from the production offices at Universal. Leaning forward on his cluttered desk, he wastes no time getting to the point. We can offer each kid 500 bucks for a single night's work. That's more than five times the usual pay for a child extra, so be sure to tell people that. Uh-huh. And their parents will obviously have to come too, of course. We wouldn't do anything without their consent. Right, of course. How long would you need them for? How does this work exactly? Well, they'd be on location from, say, 7 p.m. to about 1 in the morning. Schumann pauses for a moment. That's kind of late for little kids, isn't it? I mean, 7 p.m. will be getting toward their bedtime. Yeah, I know, I know, but they won't be on set the whole time. Stress that. They'll be in a trailer for most of it. They can sleep there. We'll bring them food, whatever they want. Their actual time in front of the camera is what we're talking about. Minutes. Minutes, not hours. And we pick them up and drop them off back at home, of course, so they wouldn't have to worry about any of that either. Okay, all right. Well, what exactly will the scenes involve? Do they have to learn any lines? Oh, no, no, no. What they have to do is super, super simple. They just have to look cute, basically. I mean, the scene does have a helicopter, and there will be explosions. It's going to be spectacular, I'm telling you. But the kids won't be anywhere near that. Well, okay. Yeah, I'm sure you know what you're doing there. Yeah, our stunt guys are some of the best around. It'll look scary as hell on screen, but there's absolutely no danger on set. Okay, well, is there anything else I need to know? I mean, I can't think of any kids off the top of my head, but there's this one social worker I work with, Peter Chen. I'm sure he'd know someone. I can give him a call. That would be great. We need two, remember, a boy and a girl. Okay, got it. Well, I'll let you know what he says. Fantastic. And if you can ask today or as soon as possible, Harold, that would be great help. Like I said, we're up against the clock here. Sure, can do. I appreciate it, buddy. And hey, we'll have to have you and Donna around for dinner once this is all over. Hey, we'd love that. We can hear all about how it goes. It's going to be a lot of fun for these kids, you know. It's something they'll remember for the rest of their lives. George Folsey hangs up the phone, feeling like things might finally be coming together. All the reports from set have been positive. John Landis is delighted with Vic Morrow, and the shoot is moving forward on time and on budget. In a few days, production will move north to a location known as Indian Dunes. The Vietnamese village set is already under construction there. And once Folsey casts these two kids, they'll have all they need for the big finale. Of course, Folesy knows that if the authorities find out what they have in mind, there will be trouble. But he sure won't come to that. In fact, if everything goes to plan, no one will know the kids were even there. From Wondery, this is episode one of the Twilight Zone accident for American Scandal. In our next episode, two children join the cast and production moves to the Vietnamese village sequence. With a helicopter swooping overhead and explosions lighting up the sky, It promises to be a spectacular climax to the movie, but some on the set have doubts about how safe it really is. If you'd like to learn more about the accident on the set of Twilight Zone, the movie, we recommend the book Special Effects by Ron Labriek and Outrageous Conduct by Stephen Farber and Mark Green. This episode contains reenactments and dramatized details. And while in most cases we can't know exactly what was said, all our dramatizations are based on historical research. American Scandal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Audio editing by Jake Sampson. Sound design by Gabriel Gould. Music by Throm. This episode is written and researched by William Simpson. Fact-checking by Alyssa Jung Perry. Managing producer Emily Burke. Development by Stephanie Jens. Senior producer Andy Beckerman. Executive producers are William Simpson for Airship and Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Thank you. all episodes of American Scandal early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. And before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. And to find out more about me, including my other podcasts, go to notthatlindsaygram.com. That's notthatlindsaygram.com.