“people of color” who managed to kill a million Filipinos,rnmany through the most diabolical tortures imaginable. EdrnRamsey is an American hero and a hero to the Filipinos.rnThe movie project has been on hold now for more than arnyear, but there may eventually be a happy ending to all this.rnSince the success of Saving Private Ryan, the studio has reconsideredrnthe project. The smell of big money has evidentlyrncaused the politically correct executive to cast aside his fashionablernprinciples. In addition, another studio has expressed interestrnin acquiring rights to the project.rnEd Ramsey, despite major heart surgery, is still going strongrnat 81 years old. He gives guest lectures in my World War IIrnclass, and the students cannot believe that he is the hero theyrnhave been reading about, standing in front of them in the flesh.rnThe young coeds are especially taken by him. They think hernlooks good. He thinks they look good, too. The colonel, thernOld Man, is still amazingly robust. I just hope he lives to seernhimself on the silver screen.rnFor the last ten years, I have dealt with Hollywood in a varietyrnof capacities—as a consultant and technical advisor forrna television series, as a consultant for various film and televisionrnprojects, and as an interview subject for documentaries. Thernpush for political correctness or, perhaps more accurately, culturalrnMarxism is pandemic. However, I have found politicallyrnincorrect individuals in the business.rnIn 1991, I was brought on board the television series ThernYoung Riders by David Gerber, the chairman and CEO ofrnM G M Television at the time. Gerber hired me to make the seriesrnmore authentic and historically accurate. He thought thernproducer and the writers had taken far too many liberties withrnthe plots and characters; the series was supposed to be based onrnthe Pony Express and on actual riders.rnI immediately hit it off with Gerber. He was a straight-talking,rnno-nonsense, down-to-earth guy who had worked his wayrnup in the business fi’om the mailroom. He also was amazinglyrnwell read and had a solid grounding in history. He had read extensivelyrnnot only in popular historical literature but also inrnscholarly historical literature. We had much to talk about. I alsorngot along well with Gerber’s assistant, a sharp young executivernwith loads of energy, talent, and integrity.rnNot so with the producer of the series. He thought of himselfrnas a creative genius and looked upon me as a threat to his worksrnof art. Furthermore, I was out of the chain of command, andrnthis drove him nuts. I reported to Gerber. The producer couldrnnot attempt the normal game of intimidation that is very muchrna part of Hollywood. I learned that Hollywood is very hierarchicallyrnstructured and that intimidation and even humiliationrnof subordinates is de rigueur for some of those in the business.rnPart of this is the fault of the subordinates themselves, manyrnof whom are among the most sycophantic people I have everrncome across. These same sycophants tiirn right around andrntreat the people below them like dirt. Now, of course, not everybodyrnfits these descriptions. Nonetheless, there seems to berna greatly disproportionate number of such types in Hollywood.rnSome of it, I think, has to do with the enormous money to bernmade in the business. There are large carrots dangled in frontrnof everyone, and the attempt to please a superior takes precedencernover principles, morals, and truth-telling.rnLarge carrots? The producer of the The Young Riders wasrnmaking $30,000 a week. I can only imagine what he thoughtrnwhen he looked out of the window of his plush office in thernMGM building and saw me driving up each week in my 1971rnVW bug with rusted surf racks on the top, knowing that I wasrnthere to tell him what changes he should make in the script. Irnam told he threw fits each week after I left. As you might suspect,rnI did not ingratiate myself with a producer who madernmore money every two weeks than I made in a year. I tiied tornbe tactfril and polite, but I had to do the job that I was broughtrnaboard to do. I simply gave the producer and the writers thernstraight scoop.rnMost of the writers seemed far less driven by a politically correctrnagenda than the producer, although they were eager tornplease the producer and get their teleplays on the air. Most ofrnthem accepted the liberal cliches of the university campus andrnof Hollywood and generally wrote that way, but it was my impressionrnthat they seemed more concerned with working andrnpicking up a paycheck. They were well paid, they worked hard,rnand they were skilled at their craft. Several actually seemed eagerrnto be made aware of historical inaccuracies and misrepresentationsrnand tiied to tell a good story honestiy.rnI worked on some 50 scripts—44 of them aired as episodes ofrnThe Young Riders—before the series went off the air. A few examplesrnfrom a few of the scripts should give you an idea of whatrnthe politically correct of Hollywood want us to think.rnThere were no black Pony Express riders; however, in the interestsrnof “urban demographics”—Hollywood’s code phrase forrnblacks —it was decided that one of the principal charactersrnwould be black. I suggested that he be a wrangler at the station,rnbut that would not do. He would be one of the riders. He wasrnnamed Noah, and he was just like the white riders except—hernwas perfect. After some time, I came to realize that Noah wasrnnot merely an Old Testament patiiarch come to ride for thernPony Express: He was God.rnIt was also decided that there should be some Mexicans inrnthe show. A Spanish mission suddenly appeared in Wyoming,rnnear the home station for our riders. That the nearest Spanishrnmission was actually in the upper Rio Grande Valley, 600 milesrnto the south, did not seem to matter. Now we could have Mexicanrnheroes. At least the priest who ran the Spanish mission wasrnFather Reilly.rnOne of our riders was Wild Bill Hickok. Although he neverrnwas a rider for the Pony Express, he did work as a teamster forrnRussell, Majors and Waddell, the firm that created the PonyrnExpress. Making him a rider and a dozen other historically inaccuraternthings that were done with him in the series are probablyrnforgivable—dramatic license. One script, however, hadrnhim making anti-gun statements—something to the effect thatrnhe hated the darn things but was forced to use them and itrnwould really be best if nobody had them.rnThe real Hickok was fascinated with guns from childhood.rnHe got his own revolver at the age of 12 and practiced with itrnconstantly. He was a deadeye and proud of it. As an adult, herncarried two Colt Navy revolvers and two derringers. He had arncollection of guns that included not only pistols but rifles andrnshotguns as well. He took target practice daily and cleaned andrnreloaded his weapons every night.rnJesse James was also in for some revisionism. Although hernnever had anything to do with the Pony Express, he appears inrnthe series as a teenage boy working at the station. Jesse has allrnsorts of modern angst and talks and cries openly about it. In onernscene he sobs, the tears flow, and he purges his soul. This modemrnangst-ridden crybaby would certainly come as a surprise tornthose who knew the real Jesse. His family always remarked that,rnMARCH 1999/19rnrnrn