By Jef With One F
By Rocks Off
By Chris Lane
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
The man glares squinty-eyed at his interrogator. "Now fuck off," he growls. Then he emits an enormous belch, snatches the keg tap and pours a lengthy swig of foamy draft down his gullet.
"Annnnnd cut!" shouts the director, Jeff Horton. "Nice job. Could you just look a little straighter at the camera next time?"
The young man, a Louisiana actor named David Maldonado, nods, wincing. He's already done this five times, and the warm brew is not sitting well in his gut, though it does make it easier to burp on command.
"Okay, quiet on the set! Annnnd, action!"
This sordid little tableau is being enacted on the band house deck behind Fitzgerald's, the mother church of Houston nightclubs that celebrated its 25th anniversary last year. The scene depicts one of the many misadventures Fitz's owner Sara Fitzgerald has been privy to over that quarter-century, one that she is parlaying today into a trailer, and then into a film, and eventually, she hopes, into a sitcom.
"Everybody's been bugging me to write a book, so I decided to make a movie. Kinda the story of the club and my life," she says. Racket is now seated in the band house living room with Fitzgerald and the film's producer, Connie McDonough. From time to time, various production assistants scuttle in and interrupt the interview, as does a constantly ringing cell phone with a Beethoven's Ninth ring tone. In short, it already feels like a movie set, and today they're shooting only the trailer.
"We're calling it The Madness and the Memories of Fitzgerald's --" says McDonough.
"Or My Life Behind Bars -- 25 Years in the Joint," adds Fitzgerald.
So what the hell did Racket just see out there? "I had a customer called Buffalo who was a friend of my husband's -- who was killed a couple of years into this project," Fitzgerald says. "Buffalo still hung out here after that -- he had drinking rights for life. And in that scene you saw he had kind of gone off the deep end. I used to find him in my flower bed on occasion. Another night I had a keg party and he was laying under the keg all night. Actually, that guy you saw is a composite of Buffalo and a bunch of the other crazy people and alcoholics I have known."
Another such is the character of Debco. "She was a floor manager here when I first started out," Fitzgerald remembers. "Her first job was putting little pink tops on top of the toilets and rugs underneath them -- making them real homey. She lived in the Heights and used to be the road manager for Santana. She was just a nut. When I had my first baby, she drove me to the hospital. She had a joint in her mouth and she was driving and saying, 'Just breathe, just breathe!' She was also like the housemother; she would have all these band guys come over to her house for dinner. She liked to cook for 'em. She'd make 'em this huge dinner and then they'd all do a bunch of coke. They'd never eat it. She also owned a vintage clothes shop, and she used to dress them all up in her inventory. She was just a hoot. So I made another composite."
The movie will take place in a sort of perpetual present. Younger actors will be playing Fitzgerald, Buffalo and Debco. Fitzgerald will be using the trailer as bait for investors, and she hopes that the additional money will make for a larger production. "The trailer is kind of a selling piece," she says. "We're gonna also do a short and enter it in film festivals and just see how it feels. If we get enough money we'll do a big, big film, and if we don't get a lot we might just do an independent do-it-yourself thing."
If all goes according to her wildest dreams, she'll have a sitcom with recurring characters on her hands. These would include real-live bands (they've already shot Blue October for the film) as well as composite ne'er-do-wells such as Buffalo and Debco. Fitzgerald is developing the script with a consultant, award-winning local screenwriter Casey Kelly. Fitzgerald is hoping to have whatever it is they come up with done by the fall.
And that's where you can help. Fitzgerald is urging old customers to come by the club and share their favorite memories. If you have a really good story, you could get to tell it on celluloid. "If you came here and met your boyfriend or you hung out with REM when they played downstairs, or you got drunk with Clint Black or something like that," she says. "Everybody's got a little story to tell, and we want to mix them in."