William Louis Gardner was born in Minnesota and finished school there. He
joined the US Air Force and worked at the Pentagon in the Target Library of the world. Went on to the Pasadena Playhouse to learn televison and movie making. He got a job with actress Marion Davies at her home. There He met a movie agent and started a career in Hollywood. William Louis Gardner has worked in Hollywood as the agent, personal secretary, PR advisor and manager for for Mickey Rooney, Jonathan Winters, Jill St.John, Bobby Van and director, John Huston. His new book is called THE GAMES END; the book is dedicated to all the people who have gone or want to visit East Africa. with wishes that it brings back again the experience they once had.
Bill Gardner started his career getting a diploma from the Pasadena Play House in the fifties. The US Air Force sent him to Pasadena to learn to study film and television. During his education there he was sent to do on the job training at ABC, CBS and NBC. He spent time on the sets of the Colgate Comedy Hour where he became acquainted with Martin & Lewis, Jimmy Durante, Danny Thomas, Lucille Ball, Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, Milton Berle, Red Skelton working on their shows. After he left Hollywood he wrote and produced films for the Air Force. When he got out of the service he went back to Hollywood and worked for Mickey Rooney as his assistant and manager for ten years. Later he left Mickey for Jonathan Winters as his manager. Then, with on to work for director, John Huston, as his assistant and made films in England, Ireland and East Africa. Bill went to Africa to do pre-production for a film he had written. John was going to make it into a movie, “The Games End”. Because of scheduling of actors and cameraman John wanted for the film; it didn’t work out. John had to go to work on another film. Bill’s novel and screenplay “The Games End”
Hollywood and went to live in Montecito and became a Real Estate Broker and formed an office in Santa Barbara, he worked there for 35 years there until he retired to write a novel “Confessions of a Hollywood Agent’.
When I was a teenager and couldn’t handle it. I had dyslexia and it wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t spell, but then email came along and things changed when I got a computer. So basically, when I got access to a computer I went back to writing.
Right now the world is facing a big crisis with the elephants in Africa being murdered for their ivory. The novel takes you to you realize what it’s like in Africa now, it helps make you be aware of the poaching of elephants; we have to save the elephants or they will no longer be with us. I’ve been to Africa myself many times and witnessed the tragedies, from which I got the inspiration needed to write the book.
First, it was the droughts that was killing the elephant herds in the seventies, and then the Japanese in the eighties and now it’s the Chinese responsible for poaching the elephants in Africa . A hundred thousand were killed last year for their ivory. Very soon, we will only find them in zoos.
It’s always nice to know that you have fans that can write you a note or send you an email that they like what you are writing, that always makes you feel good.
Montecito, California, Where I lived for 35 years, and i encountered many terrific characters that we will want to read more about. I’ve always started my books by timing, and usually I like to go and talk about the people that I wasn’t ready to write about until I put the whole thing together in my mind and I think that makes a pretty good story.
Knowing I have many things to do; knowing I’m busy.
Thinking about more writing.
Writers always try to figure out what would be a good book out of all the thing they’ve been exposed to. Many times you start but don’t finish, but when you do finish you really appreciate it.
Throughout my life I have been busy gathering what I now dig through to find source material for writing.
Because Kindle came out, looked at it years before I bought it. For me it started through one of Stephen Kings promoted books on Kindle, I saw the potential and I decided to get into the game. It’s a chance.
I usually look around to see from which authors I want to read.
I like farms because I like animals. I remembered going to visit an aunt in southern Minnesota. She was a sweet woman with no children. I liked my uncle too, it was his smile, and it took away the hard work he wore. He had the look of authority. I knew if I crossed him, I’d end up in the barn with a strap across my behind. He gave me chores to do, milking cows, cleaning the barn, feeding the turkeys. He kept me busy.
When I had some spare time I’d hang out at the water tank under the windmill. The animals would gather during the day to take a long cool drink from the mossy water in a wooden tank. They’d look at me watching them as they came up to drink, then stop and move cautiously back and forth, hoping I would leave.
I’d observe them by the hour and got to know them by their marking and personalities. I made up names for them. There was a handsome black and white cow that had curly bangs that hung over her soft brown eyes. I called her “the bull’s girl friend” because he hung out with her and she seemed to have a full bag of milk at all times. He kept her constantly with calve.
I was of that age where I was curious about sex. On a farm you see that kind of thing going on every day. I found myself in the pasture up close watching the bull and his girl friend do it. He spotted me and took off in my direction. I knew I couldn’t outrun him so I headed for the haystack. As I scurried up on the loose soft straw I looked back to see the bull’s weight had made him sink and go no further. That cured me.
There were cats that lived around the barn. They’d come around while I milked the cows. I’d take the cow’s tit and squirt them. At first they would run off, but when they stopped to clean their coats they discovered they were licking off milk. So they came back again for more. After a few rehearsals they discover it was easier to open their mouths than lick it off, and would sit in front of me with their mouths open looking silly as I filled them with warm cow’s milk.
To my uncle, all farm animals had a practical use. Cows gave milk.
Chickens laid eggs and cats killed rats. He had no sentimental attachment; just a duty and when they didn’t or couldn’t perform they were gone. One of his ways was to drown them in the water tank, especially new kittens.
One morning at breakfast he said.
‘‘I have a chore for you, Bud. The mama cat had another litter and I want you to drown them.” I was brought up to respect my elders and do their wishes, even when the idea sickens me.
“I never killed anything before,” I said.
“Well, it’s about time you learned.”
I looked at my aunt. I could tell she knew I was disturbed.
“Jim, you do it. You’ll upset the boy,” she said.
Was I relieved?
“He’s got to become a man. How in the hell do you think he can face life if he can’t kill a cat. Come on,” He said, as I followed him to the barn. He picks up a burlap bag as we entered and said.
“Here, put the kittens inside and take them to the tank.”
I took the bag, and he went off to feed the pigs.
I approached the manger where the mother cat had her litter; I had played with them every day. I could hear their tiny meows as I bent down. Their little blue eyes had just opened and they looked so cute and innocent. How could I? I thought, but I had too or my uncle would take a strap to me. I picked up the kittens and gently put them in the bag. Their meows alarmed their mother. She looked at me. I could tell she knew something was up.
I left the barn and walked to the water tank. Two bay mares where drinking as I arrived. I waived them away. I didn’t want them to see what I was about to do. That look in their eyes, telling me; “How could you?” I had to get it over fast…Don’t think about it, I thought. What are you a sissy? I couldn’t hold them under water, and feel their little bodies grasping for air, so I picked up a loose brick and put it in the bag.
I dropped the bag in the water not looking as I did. The bag sank to the bottom. Then it hit me. I’m a murderer. I quickly reached in and pulled out the bag and opened it. The water soaked kittens looked like drown rats. Then, I remembered a Model A Ford abandoned down by the creek. I took the kittens and ran, looking around to see if anyone had seen me. I pulled open the rusty door and took the kittens out of the bag and made a nest for them inside the old car. I’d come back with their mother, later, I thought.
A few days following at breakfast my uncle asked me if I had seen the mother cat, she had disappeared and the rats were taking over again. I told him I hadn’t when my aunt said. “I’m sure she left, Jim. Drowning her kittens made her find a new home.” My uncle gave my aunt a look.
I got up from the table and said. “I got to go …feed the turkeys.”
My aunt got up and followed me out of the house. She handed me a paper bag. “Here some scarps for the kittens. Lets hope their mother don’t move them back to the barn.
There’s a lot of thinking before I start. Sometimes I’m very stressed out and can’t hink of anything but I have to find other things to distract me. I haven’t had writers block too much.
Do you remember the first story you ever read, and the impact it had on you?When I was a young boy at 7 my young brother (2 years younger to me) fell into the Mississippi river when it was frozen and there was a spot where the garbage came out made a hole. Unfortunately my young brother fell into the hole. I remember Jack Armstrong the All-American-Boy had just been on the radio and I remember what he said about saving somebody on the ice, so when I got to my brother I got down on my stomach like he said and got so i wouldn’t use all my weight, I grabbed his hand and save his life. We came out all over the papers in America. I must say I never knew I was that strong. When I read the article It had a profound impact. I remember my front teeth were not even there I smiled and looked really funny.
1) Old man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
2) East of Eden by John Steinbeck
3) Moby Dick Herman Melville
4)The Magus by John Fowles
5) My Antonia by Willa Cather
By William Gardner