Obviously he was not going to tell a Christmas card company that Gary Gilmore was what he intended to use their machine for. He merely asked to rent the machine from eleven at night until three in the morning, and used Moody and Stanger as references. Stephie and he went in with a man from the plant and it ended up taking six and a half hours.
There was magnitude to the job. Gary’s letters were so carefully folded, it was unbelievable. One small white prison envelope might hold a dozen legal-sized pages. Gary had not only folded the sheets that closely, but Nicole maintained the folds. Schiller began to feel the relationship of Gary and Nicole in the way those letters had been opened and put back, opened and put back.
Later, when he had a chance to read more, Schiller began to feel a little security. Even if the Supreme Court took back their stay and Gary was executed in a week or so, these letters still offered the love story. He not only had the man’s reason’for dying but Romeo and Juliet, and life after death. It might even be enough for a screenwriter.
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The next problem was where to sell some of them. The National Enquirer had made a firm offer for sixty grand to Scott Meredith, but Schiller was debating whether he should offer a package to Time instead. He could probably get no more than a third as much, but at that price, Schiller liked Time: It was not only the prestige. In essence, Time magazine was a sales letter printed everywhere in the world. Gilmore’s importance would be amplified internationally. That alone could pick up the $4o,ooo difference.
All the while, he was playing with the Enquirer on the side. Their offer had gone from sixty to sixty-five. Schiller needed more money the way a farmer without a tractor needs a tractor, but he hated how the Enquirer would cheapen the property. In the interval, Time looked like they might even go to $25,ooo.
Then he got the idea to sell an in-depth Gary Gilmore interview to Playboy. That ought to be worth another twenty. Splicing the rope with Time and Playboy, plus the ABC money already spent, plus whatever he could pick up in Europe by selling the letters ought to come to more than a hundred thousand total. That should be enough to take care of all expenses, past and pending.
The lawyers, however, were having their difficulties. Schiller’s admission to the press that he was a Hollywood producer had turned everything around at the prison. Sam Smith said he was going to see that nobody profited from the execution of Gary Gilmore. “Not while I’m Warden.” He began to put a lot of restrictions on the visits.
When they talked to Gary these days, there was always a guard present. The lawyers would put down the phone and refuse to talk until the guard got the hell out of there. Sometimes the fellow would go to the opposite end of the room, but then, you had to be paranoid that the phones were bugged. It was hell talking around a corner to a client whose face you couldn’t see. One day, Moody even went to the mat with Sam Smith over his right to tape-record visits with Gary. “For executing his Will,” complained Bob, “I have to record his re-FAMILY LAWYERS
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marks in case he changes his mind.” He knew the argument was a waste of time, but he did it to keep pressure off the unauthorized tape recordings he was already making. They were difficult enough at best. You had to sneak the machine into the prison under your coat, and then there was the apprehension that a guard could notice the little rubber recording cap that had been slipped onto the earpiece of the phone, Discovery would leave them professionally embarrassed. Of course, the Bar Association hadn’t done anything with Boaz and probably wouldn’t start up with them, but all the same, ff you valhed your reputation this became one more uncertainty to carry around. Other times, the guards would try to inspect their attache cases as they walked in. Then they would have to put on a real show. They were Gilmore’s laywers, and their briefcases were not to be touched! It meant they had to psych themselves up every time they came to the prison gate.
One occasion, Ron got into a hell of a fight with Sam Smith. “I’m going to interview my client the way I want,” Ron told him, “and you’re not going to tell me how to do it.” “Look,” said Smith, “this is my prison.” Ron said, “Piss on that.” He started yelling. Smith tried to calm him down. “Now, Ron,” he said, “now Ron,” said Sam, and Ron answered, “Bullshit, you’re not going to tell me how to conduct an interview. I’ve got to have a record. If my man gets executed, and somebody sues, I want these talks on record. I’m going to handle my client the way I want.” “Well,” said Sam Smith, “you’re going to have to go to Federal Court to find out if you have that right.” Ron said, “Buddy, if I have to, I’m going.”
It was a hell of a yelling match, and got them nowhere. The Warden would never tell you what you could or couldn’t do. He would just say, when asked, that it was against policy. Ron even had a go with Ernie Wright, the Director of Corrections. Ron was one of the five members of the State Building Board, and that was real leverage. Any time the prison needed a new facility or, hell, even a new shed, they had, like any other State institution, to get permission from the State Building Board. So, Ron had had a day-to-day acquaintance with Sam and Ernie for some time. On this one, however, he ran into a wall. Ernie Wright finally said, “No movie producer is going to make one dime Out of Gilmore. It’s not fair. We’re the ones who take the criticism, and nobody is going to make any money out of this.” It got as emotional as that.
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“Where is it against policy?” Bob would ask. “In which book?”
“Oh, it isn’t written,” Ernie Wright said just like Sam, “it’s just prison policy.”
Moody and Stanger discovered they could get a lot more done by working with Assistant Wardens and Lieutenants. The two prison Chaplains were also useful. Campbell, the Mormon, was fighting the prison half the time, so you could expect him to become frustrated and walk around in a pout with a tight steely face. But, the other Chaplain, the Catholic, Father Meersman, was an old boy, and he would tell the lawyers, “Butter ‘em up. Don’t ask whether you can or can’t. Just go as far as you can. When they cut you off, try some other time.” Father Meersman had worked in the prison for years and enjoyed a smooth relationship, a pleasant-faced man, gray-haired man, not tall, not short, not heavy, not slim, moderate in every one of his physical details. “Just say, ‘whatever is fair, Warden, whatever’s
Of course, Gary could get caustic about Father Meersman. “The padre,” he said to Moody and Stanger one day, “gave me a cross to die with. Specially made. Fits in the palm of your hand. That papist prick ought to be a used-car salesman.”
Moody also got a little pressure in Mormon circles. He was a member of the High Council, one of twelve Elders to advise the President of his Stake in Provo, but now and then words would come back that some people thought he should be kicked off the High Council for accepting blood money. On the other hand, Church members in good standing would say, “You’re doing a fine job. We admire you for that.” Half and half.
Moody brushed it off. It was like the flak he took when he defended one man for killing another while driving under the influence of alcohol. “How could you do that?” he was asked, “You’re a Mormon. You don’t drink.” Some Church people didn’t understand the system or his role in it.
Still, it wasn’t all bad. By this time, Ron Stanger could hardly wait to get home and catch himself on the tube. He frankly enjoyed the publicity more than Moody. Bob wasn’t so much in love with his
bald head that he wanted to rush over to see his image, but the kids liked it. “There’s Daddy,” they’d scream. Fun to see them having pleasure. And, of course, at the courthouse and on the street, everybody was asking how they were doing, everybody said they saw them on TV. It was a good feeling for Moody to run into attorneys he had gone to school with, who were now, perhaps, making more money than him, and be able to chat about the case. On the Whole, he felt relaxed. Gilmore hurt his practice, and helped it. Changed it. Moody liked to think of himself as a man who wasn’t paralyzed by the idea of change.
GILMORE You tell Larry Schiller I want that phone call to Nicole.
I’m sure that Schiller can put pressure on people if he wants to.
STANGER Larry’s quite a mover, all right.
GILMORE YOU guys have made some moves, but it hasn’t been
enough, I haven’t gotten the phone call. STANGER It hasn’t been successful.
GILMORE Man, I’ve gone sixteen days without eating, and I’ll go forever. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get that phone call. If it takes a bribe, pay it. I don’t give a shit what it takes …. I want to talk to Nicole and I don’t know ff I’ll be cooperative with anybody until I do. I guess that sounds like an ultimatum. I don’t know if I have the right to ask you to arrange a phone call in order to get answers to these questions, but I guess that’s what I’m doing.
STANGER ,You’ve got a right to ask what you want, Gary.
GILMORE I want to talk to Nicole.
As soon as the lawyers returned to Provo with a tape, Schiller, if he was in town, would come over to their office to make a copy immediately. That gave him an opportunity to listen in the lawyers’ presence. When Gary now said, “Arrange a phone call,” Schiller turned to Moody and remarked, “Come on, does he think I’m going to give somebody twenty-five dollars?” Moody said, “Gary thinks five thousand should do it.” “To whom? Who gets it?” Schiller asked. Moody replied, “Gary says, ‘Look for a doctor.’ ” Schiller Said, “I don’t
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think we should get involved in that, Bob. We’re going for the long haul.”
He had the feeling Gary was testing how far he would go. In effect, they were all asking: How much money does Schiller have in his pocket? Has he another five thousand to hand out? Larry considered it a good way to establish his integrity with Moody ff he didn’t go along. “I don’t think we should get involved,” he repeated. “I’ll send Gary a telegram.”
DEC. 5, I:3° P.M.
GARY GILMORE
UTAH STATE PRISON BOX 950
DRAPER UT 84020
IN REFERENCE TO YOUR REQUEST TO COMMUNICATE WITH A THIRD PARTY, THIS IS NOT THE MOMENT OR THE TIME, AND THE MEANS YOU HAVE SUGGESTED ARE REJECTED BY ME. I AM HERE TO RECORD HISTORY, NOT TO GET INVOLVED IN IT. REGARDS.
LARRY.
“Actually,” said Schiller to himself, “I have become part of it. All around me, I’m becoming part of the story.”
Now that Gilmore wouldn’t answer his questions, Schiller decided he’d better pick up a couple of collateral interviews. Vern had told him that his daughter’d be well worth talking to, so with Stephie he went to visit Brenda and Johnny. It wasn’t a great interview but he .was delighted with Brenda. She was out front, wisecracking and offered a real image for a TV show. Almost good looking enough to be a Charlie’s Angel-type girl: Her husband Johnny also impressed Schiller, but in another way. He felt a little uneasy of him physically. A strong man, reluctant to talk.
All the while, he loved having brought Stephie. Taking her to the interview warmed Brenda up. Stephie gave these awkward interview situations a little — he didn’t want to say class — a little bit of culture, the little bit of softness needed. She was an asset. That is, until they left the place. “You sat there and ate all those hors d’oeuvres,” she said, “all that ham and pineapple.” Had to be said, Schiller told himself. She was an asset going in, and a liability going out. Her criticisms were so rough, he was fucked for the rest of the day.
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So he was half relieved to interview Sterling Baker and Ruth Ann later in the week when Stephie was not along. He couldn’t get over what a gentle fellow Sterling was. So shy, in fact, that he had to take him out to a restaurant. The man just could not sit and be interviewed withouf something like food to distract the atmosphere. All the same, Sterling showed another side of Gary. Here was this fellow, real gentle, and Gary had been drawn to him.
Moody and Stanger were trying to devise a way for Gary to telephone Nicole. Many a scheme was discussed.
In the meantime, to keep Gary happy, they were getting a few letters ferried to and from Nicole. Naturally, Gary wanted to know how good looking Ken Sundberg was, and Moody had to assure him Sundberg was a serious young Mormon who would not drive a wedge between Nicole and himself.
GILMORE Can I ask you guys a personal question? Sometimes when things become a reality, people don’t think about them exactly like they might. You guys aren’t going to have any second thoughts?
MOODY Let us say this, Gary, I think Ron and I both have come to
look upon you and feel and treat and consider you to be a good friend and I don’t like the thought of your being executed, but damnit, we’re here to do what you want. We’ll continue to work at that even though it is not a pleasurable thing to even think about.
STANGER It certainly is not.
GILMORE YOU know I’m not asking that you like me. I’m not a likable person, right.
STANGER Whether you like it or not, we’ve grown to like you very
much.
GILMORE The only thing I ask is just respect my own thoughts
about death.
Stanger didn’t really believe Gilmore was ever going to get it. There were too many Judges secretly hostile to the idea of capital punishment. On the other hand, Stanger didn’t see why he couldn’t
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give his utmost. He liked to respect the role he had assumed. In a manner of speaking, he had been an actor all his life. Of course there were all kinds of ironies in this case anyway. Here he was supposed to be interviewing Gilmore on his past, yet Gary got off more on getting Ron to talk about his own life.