It's only natural, I suppose, that my adventures should attract the interest film-makers. Since the People Who Saw Tomorrow debacle, though, I've been wary of the consequences of media exposure. While I can withstand the derision of numbskulls, I have to consider the people I've represented over the years: those without the means or the fortitude to stand up for themselves. The man who mocks me, also mocks them. With this in mind, I immediately made plans to fly out to L.A..
Need I describe Pamela's astonishment when, a week later, an informal meeting she and her cohorts had arranged with Michael Richards, the actor approached to portray 'Harrison Poe', was interrupted by Klaus, a German auotograph hunter who suddenly removed his Alpine hat and handlebar moustache and declared a close personal interest in proceedings! Pulling up a chair, I stated my case: while I didn't object to a film based on my casebook in principle, I explained, the tone of Pamela's outline was completely inappropriate. Nor was I confident that Mr Richards was qualified for the role. In order to inhabit my skin, after all, he would have to be prepared to confront some of my demons. Did he possess the moral authority to portray a man who has mastered monsters?
For the next month, I stayed in Pamela's apartment, liaising between the various interested parties and sketching out an appropriate approach to my life story. Richards, a humorous and thoughtful individual, eventually conceded that he would be incapable of satisfactorily interpreting the moods of Hamilton Coe. He suggested John Candy as a possible replacement, but my inquiries established that Mr Candy was, in fact, dead.
As the project disintegrated, Pamela's mood toward me, strained from the outset, became frosty, reaching a nadir when I returned from a conference to discover she'd changed the locks.
Hamilton Coe?