Another filming anecdote that missed the final cut in the book.
_A Kansas Tornado in California
_In the winter Ferdinand Kranz wanted to film a tornado scene for his latest picture. The Santa Ana winds were in full force around then which is what must have given him the idea to film a tornado. About the time the we started filming, the winds were gone again, so Ferdinand, rather an optimist man for all the violent scenarios he came up with, had us shoot some of the interior scenes at the studio.
In this short, Floyd Howard and I were father and daughter pioneers who were setting off from civilization to homestead in Oklahoma. Once in Oklahoma we would live with the father’s brother’s family as we settled in.
Of course, along the way, there would be hardships. The main one being surviving a tornado, if the weather permitted.
We finished filming the interior house shots within a day. Ferdinand had sent out a scout to the area he wanted to use for filming and had reports that the locals were sure the wind would pick back up within a few days. So the whole production got packed up in half a dozen cars and trucks and headed out. Floyd preferred to ride. His horse, Black Baby, disliked being in a horse cart behind the truck, and it was only 40 miles, so he rode. As there were several other horses to be brought out to the shoot, I rode one and the company groom, Orin Johns, rode the other. It was a long day’s ride, yet the pace and scenery were lovely. Floyd and I had become great friends and the day was passed pleasantly.
The film company had reached our destination many hours before we did, even though we had left earlier. They were setting up a temporary camp on a desolate stretch of wide rocky riverbed near the small crossroads town of San Bernardino–not so very far from where I grew up.
We were lodged in several small hotels within the little town. Black Baby had pride of place at the nearby stables. We were all settled in by late evening. Ferdinand kept a tight schedule on his productions and required filming to start by eight.
The next morning, the whole crew was ready to start filming on time. There was not a hint of wind, not even a breeze. There were other parts to film besides the tornado, so we spent the day in a covered wagon filming the crossing of the “prairie.” The scenes we used as settings to the story needed to be varied and the area we were camped had a surprising amount of variety. It was a wide sweeping plain at the based of hills and mountains, so pointing the camera North we had rugged mountains to contend with. Pointing the camera South, there was grassy, rocky plains. It was an ingenious place to film a lot of different scenes.
From one high point, I could look Southeast towards Redlands, about twenty miles away. I could easily tell which city it was for all the orange plantations that surrounded it. Just on the other side of the hills that bordered it to the South was where my family lived, where I grew up. It made me deeply nostalgic to be so close. I couldn’t help but stare in that direction. Floyd noticed, but like the quiet gentleman he was, he didn’t ask. Instead he turned my attention to Black Baby’s latest trick–a two-step dance.
Filming continued for two more days with not a hint of wind. Ferdinand had to call a halt to any more filming as he’d reached the limit on the amount of film he could use. The fourth day we stayed in town playing cards and trying to alleviate the boredom any way we could. The fifth day Ferdinand had to order the pack up of the camp. He’d received a very angry phone call from Mr. Griply about his budget.
Then the winds started. It was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. The crew were loading up the trucks and cars when a blast of wind sent us all scurrying to get into position. The wagon cart was still intact, except for the hood. The horses were back at the stables so Orin and another crew member jumped in a car to retrieve them.
Floyd and I, already in costume, got on the wagon. Ferdinand took close-up shots of the wind tearing at our clothes and skin while the horses were fetched. We just hoped they arrived before the wind stopped.
However, the wind just kept picking up speed. After twenty minutes of sitting on the wagon bench getting beat by the gusts, Ferdinand had us get down. His intent was to have us secure the wagon with all the lines flailing and canvas fluttering. As I climb down from the wagon bench, I lost my footing as a big gust hit us. The wagon rocked ominously and I went face first into the ground while my voluminous skirts caught the wind like a sail.
I must have skidded five feet. And the camera had been shooting the whole time getting a very clear picture of my makeshift sail and, unfortunately, my behind. It was funny and embarrassing and I would have laughed it off if the wind hadn’t been so fierce. We did laugh about it later that week, especially when the film had been developed and Ferdinand had an impromptu screening.
Floyd came around and helped me back on my feet, the whole time we were still trying to “act” by securing the wagon. At this point, Ferdinand had his cameraman get into one of the cars. There was so much sand and dirt flying around that it was damaging the camera. Safe behind the glass of the automobile, the cameraman continued to shoot.
The horses arrived, but were too skittish to get harnessed onto the wagon. However, Ferdinand got some wonderful takes of me trying to sooth a horse into place with the wind whipping around us.
By then it was nearing 4 o’clock and was starting to get dark. I was exhausted from trying to stay upright and do my job at the same time, but Ferdinand was determined to get as much out of the freak storm as he could. He had just finished positioning us for another take and called “action” when another strong gust came by. It was the final straw for the wagon which turned over on its side. The horses, finally harnessed together, were both forced over a few steps. I was leeway of the horses and was protected from the brunt of the blast, but the car with the cameraman was hit squarely. It was tall sided with large windows, and with that one last gust it counterbalance and went over on its side, the cameraman shooting film the whole time.
That finished filming for the picture. The camera was broken, the cameraman was bloody, and everyone had had enough. We decamped to the town for the night and left for Los Angeles early the next day.
At the time, I thought it was the worst day of filming I had ever known. The picture turned out wonderfully–action-packed yet with a great story. There was not only my wonderfully humiliating “blooper” to laugh at afterwards, the shots that the camera took while turning over were crazy and hilarious. Looking back, that may have been one of my most favorite pictures to make.
In this short, Floyd Howard and I were father and daughter pioneers who were setting off from civilization to homestead in Oklahoma. Once in Oklahoma we would live with the father’s brother’s family as we settled in.
Of course, along the way, there would be hardships. The main one being surviving a tornado, if the weather permitted.
We finished filming the interior house shots within a day. Ferdinand had sent out a scout to the area he wanted to use for filming and had reports that the locals were sure the wind would pick back up within a few days. So the whole production got packed up in half a dozen cars and trucks and headed out. Floyd preferred to ride. His horse, Black Baby, disliked being in a horse cart behind the truck, and it was only 40 miles, so he rode. As there were several other horses to be brought out to the shoot, I rode one and the company groom, Orin Johns, rode the other. It was a long day’s ride, yet the pace and scenery were lovely. Floyd and I had become great friends and the day was passed pleasantly.
The film company had reached our destination many hours before we did, even though we had left earlier. They were setting up a temporary camp on a desolate stretch of wide rocky riverbed near the small crossroads town of San Bernardino–not so very far from where I grew up.
We were lodged in several small hotels within the little town. Black Baby had pride of place at the nearby stables. We were all settled in by late evening. Ferdinand kept a tight schedule on his productions and required filming to start by eight.
The next morning, the whole crew was ready to start filming on time. There was not a hint of wind, not even a breeze. There were other parts to film besides the tornado, so we spent the day in a covered wagon filming the crossing of the “prairie.” The scenes we used as settings to the story needed to be varied and the area we were camped had a surprising amount of variety. It was a wide sweeping plain at the based of hills and mountains, so pointing the camera North we had rugged mountains to contend with. Pointing the camera South, there was grassy, rocky plains. It was an ingenious place to film a lot of different scenes.
From one high point, I could look Southeast towards Redlands, about twenty miles away. I could easily tell which city it was for all the orange plantations that surrounded it. Just on the other side of the hills that bordered it to the South was where my family lived, where I grew up. It made me deeply nostalgic to be so close. I couldn’t help but stare in that direction. Floyd noticed, but like the quiet gentleman he was, he didn’t ask. Instead he turned my attention to Black Baby’s latest trick–a two-step dance.
Filming continued for two more days with not a hint of wind. Ferdinand had to call a halt to any more filming as he’d reached the limit on the amount of film he could use. The fourth day we stayed in town playing cards and trying to alleviate the boredom any way we could. The fifth day Ferdinand had to order the pack up of the camp. He’d received a very angry phone call from Mr. Griply about his budget.
Then the winds started. It was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. The crew were loading up the trucks and cars when a blast of wind sent us all scurrying to get into position. The wagon cart was still intact, except for the hood. The horses were back at the stables so Orin and another crew member jumped in a car to retrieve them.
Floyd and I, already in costume, got on the wagon. Ferdinand took close-up shots of the wind tearing at our clothes and skin while the horses were fetched. We just hoped they arrived before the wind stopped.
However, the wind just kept picking up speed. After twenty minutes of sitting on the wagon bench getting beat by the gusts, Ferdinand had us get down. His intent was to have us secure the wagon with all the lines flailing and canvas fluttering. As I climb down from the wagon bench, I lost my footing as a big gust hit us. The wagon rocked ominously and I went face first into the ground while my voluminous skirts caught the wind like a sail.
I must have skidded five feet. And the camera had been shooting the whole time getting a very clear picture of my makeshift sail and, unfortunately, my behind. It was funny and embarrassing and I would have laughed it off if the wind hadn’t been so fierce. We did laugh about it later that week, especially when the film had been developed and Ferdinand had an impromptu screening.
Floyd came around and helped me back on my feet, the whole time we were still trying to “act” by securing the wagon. At this point, Ferdinand had his cameraman get into one of the cars. There was so much sand and dirt flying around that it was damaging the camera. Safe behind the glass of the automobile, the cameraman continued to shoot.
The horses arrived, but were too skittish to get harnessed onto the wagon. However, Ferdinand got some wonderful takes of me trying to sooth a horse into place with the wind whipping around us.
By then it was nearing 4 o’clock and was starting to get dark. I was exhausted from trying to stay upright and do my job at the same time, but Ferdinand was determined to get as much out of the freak storm as he could. He had just finished positioning us for another take and called “action” when another strong gust came by. It was the final straw for the wagon which turned over on its side. The horses, finally harnessed together, were both forced over a few steps. I was leeway of the horses and was protected from the brunt of the blast, but the car with the cameraman was hit squarely. It was tall sided with large windows, and with that one last gust it counterbalance and went over on its side, the cameraman shooting film the whole time.
That finished filming for the picture. The camera was broken, the cameraman was bloody, and everyone had had enough. We decamped to the town for the night and left for Los Angeles early the next day.
At the time, I thought it was the worst day of filming I had ever known. The picture turned out wonderfully–action-packed yet with a great story. There was not only my wonderfully humiliating “blooper” to laugh at afterwards, the shots that the camera took while turning over were crazy and hilarious. Looking back, that may have been one of my most favorite pictures to make.