Saturday Apr 26, 2003

Rod Serling’s Ghost

Once upon a time, I was in a meeting with the president of a new startup film company.  We agreed to meet in his Santa Monica apartment where he had set up shop before finding a permanent office.

The president, a smooth and likeable talker, told me that years back Rod Serling had leased this very same apartment while he was working on the Twilight Zone series. Now, I don’t believe in ghosts, although I do know ghosts of our making can haunt us.

I thought: Would Rod give me a sign that he was somewhere in this plane of existence?

The president’s three business partners were there, and each spoke with me in great length about their financing, which they assured me was in place.

They were talking to me because I had several substantial film properties that they wanted to show their investors. Investment money will quickly take a walk without projects that will make them lots of money in return.

The president and his men all seemed to be sincere, but something was wrong. I sensed it.

Even as the president was talking his heart out about how we were all going to cash out with this deal, I knew he was lying.

Then, without fanfare, Rod Serling walked out from the wall and into the room. Apparently, no one else saw him.

Rod lit a cigarette, looked at me, then said: “Since he explained how the deal has been structured, ask him that you’d like to see his contract with the investors.”

I did.

The president cleared his throat, then said that he didn’t have the contract in the office.

Rod said: “Ask him to see a list of all the other projects he claimed to be in the works.”

I did.

The president, clearly agitated, told me the list was being prepared by their lawyer.

Rod looked at me, took another puff, then walked back into the wall and disappeared.

I stood up and got ready to leave. The president and his men couldn’t believe I was not interested in discussing their financing for the film projects.

“Maybe you want to think it over,” said the president. “We can make a killing between the two of us.”

“It’s possible,” I said. I wasn’t sure why he was going on about it. He had some scheme going, and I didn’t need to be part of it.

“I do have a suggestion,” I said to the president. “If I were you, I would do business right from this apartment. It will definitely bring you the luck you deserve.”»

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