The Spring Semester Begins!
Tuesday, January 12th, 2011, 7pm PST
Location: Tim Goldstein’s basement. Tim, Billy Johnson, Fran Rosenberg, Marty Savini, Joanne Genduso, and Stacey Singer are practicing their set for Stage Night. Marissa Preston and Lee Lindberg are watching.
Tim: [Leaning across his keyboards] So, what have we decided? Are we doing a split set or integrating it?
Billy: I say split. Start with the punk: guitar, bass, drums, vocals. Then, add the keyboards, switch singers, and move into the post-punk part of the set.
Tim: It would certainly be more coherent that way.
Marty: I don’t know. You split the set, you split the audience.
Billy: What do you mean?
Marty: The hardcore fans who don’t want to hear keyboards are going to check out for the second half of the show.
Marissa: Are there any “hardcore” fans at New Ridgemont High?
Marty: I’m just saying… I know a bunch of metal kids who’ll do the punk, but they’ll draw the line at twinkly keyboards.
Tim: [Twists a few knobs and lays down the opening chords from The Damned’s “Street of Dreams.”] I wouldn’t call this “twinkly.”
Fran: The Damned are totally punk.
Marty: Yeah, but the stuff we’re playing isn’t from the early records. It’s from when they went Goth. “Grimly Fiendish” ain’t punk.
Joanne: [Gestures at Stacey] It’s gonna’ be weird alternating vocals. And some of those post-punk songs — Siouxsie, Toyah — they’re almost operatic in parts. I don’t know how you’re gonna mix any of that shit with Fear or Circle Jerks.
Stacey: They’re just too different. It’ll sound like a mess, if you don’t split the sets.
Lee: The issue isn’t just punk or not-punk. It’s sound and presentation.
Tim: Go on.
Lee: [Leans forward] When the band first comes on, it’s pure raw rock n’ roll, right? Stripped down stage; minimal lighting; screaming [looks at Joanne] er, aggressive vocals; energy overload. Then, there’s a break; the stage goes dark while the keyboards are brought out; Stacey replaces Joanne; that first synth chord from “Street of Dreams” hits and the stage is bathed in purple light; maybe throw some dry ice in; heavy on mood; atmosphere.
Marty: Okay, I’ve changed my mind. That sounds cool as shit.
Tim: [Nodding] It does sound great; in theory, at least. But my keyboard rig is pretty extensive. I don’t know how you just “bring it out” mid-set.
Lee: [Smiles and puffs himself up] We’ll put something together so that the whole thing will be mobile. Roll that baby right onto the stage.
Billy: You guys can build something like that?
Lee: Well, no.
Stacey: So, why the fuck did you suggest it?
Lee: We can design it. But actually building it… [Looks at Marty]
Marty: You want us to build it in the shop.
Lee: Yes.
Stacey: You, in the shop? [She seems skeptical.]
Lee: I wouldn’t actually have to be in the shop very much. Just give the guys the designs, you know?
Marty: [Laughing] It’ll be fine. He is one of the Heights Boys, now, Stace.
Stacey: We’ve already been through that particular bit of bullshit.
Tim: [Rubs his face with his hands and sighs] Can you do it, Marty?
Marty: If the designs are good? Yeah, of course. We’ve got an auto shop at our disposal. Your rig’s not that big.
Billy: It will look fucking awesome. If it works.
Lee: It’ll work. And you guys are gonna’ need it. Trust me.
Joanne: Why do you say that?
Lee: It won’t be enough to have a great set. The Compton Boys have a great set too, as well as a seriously happening stage show.
Tim: What are they doing?
Lee: They’ve got live dancers: guys dressed up in Mao suits and berets marching around like Professor Griff, and half a dozen “Fly Girls” in biker shorts and tube tops; cheerleaders they recruited from Compton and Crenshaw.
Marty: Fuck.
Marissa: Can they do that? Bring in ringers?
Lee: I don’t know whether they “can,” but they are. And I don’t see Friedman doing anything about it, do you?
Stacey: [Suspiciously] And how do you know this? You’re not exactly the type that would be up on the latest goings-on in the Hood.
Lee: [Gives her a pained look] Mitch is dating one of the Compton girls, remember?
Stacey: [Shudders] I’d blotted that bit of weirdness out of my memory.
Lee: Well, he is. And she happens to be one of the dancers, and Mitch is, like, best buds with Myron and the rest of the Compton crew. He’s seen them rehearse, and as annoying as he can be he doesn’t lie or exaggerate.
Stacey: Well that’s just fucking great. We could be The Clash, and it wouldn’t matter, with a bunch of hot Black and Mexican chicks shaking their asses all over the place.
Tim: [Holds up his hands] We need to stop worrying about what the competition’s doing. Nobody’s ever won anything like that.
Marty: He’s right. We gotta’ concentrate on our shit.
Lee: Anyway, we have our own hotties.
Stacey: I just threw up in my mouth a little.
Lee: Well, you are, I mean…
Stacey: [Putting her head in her hands] Just stop. Please.
Tim: We have a killer set and Lee’s idea for a stage show is cool as hell. We’ll do just fine.
Marissa: Where does the set stand right now? Have you finalized it?
Billy: Pretty much. Here’s what we have in mind. [Reaches behind him, to the bass stool and grabs a large piece of cardstock. Holds it up for everyone to see.]
Marissa: [Admiringly] Oh wow! That’s freaking awesome!
Fran: Yeah it is! When did you get the thing all designed and shit? It was scribbled on a yellow pad the last time I saw it.
Billy: You can thank Laurie Pence for the art design. Tim and I figured we needed a lobby card.
Fran: Who’s Laurie Pence?
Marty: You know, the computer chick; works on the news. She’s dating Weber.
Fran: Who’s Weber?
Lee: [Impatiently] No one important. [Takes up the lobby card and examines it] This is really good.
Billy: She’s got the band logo on a silkscreen. We can get t-shirts made.
Joanne: Fucking mint!
Lee: So, you’re using the name. Did you actually get the rights?
Billy: [Looking very pleased with himself] Better than that. Rikk Agnew gave me his personal blessing. Said he’d be honored if we play under the name “Kids of the Black Hole.”
Joanne: When did this happen?!
Tim: He called this morning. Billy and I contacted him through his agent last week.
Fran: [Shakes her head] And he said, “Yes?” Incredible.
Lee: [Sourly] New Ridgemont High effect. Do you think he would have even returned your call if you didn’t go to Will Friedman’s famous school?
Joanne: [Smacks him on the back of the head] What the fuck, Lee?!
Marty: That’s dark shit, man.
Billy: [Coolly] If it was anyone else, you’d be right. But not Rikk Agnew. Not the Adolescents.
Fran: They’re the real fucking deal.
Marty: And why are you trashing Doc F? He’s righteous, man.
Marissa: [Quietly] Aren’t you better off at New Ridgemont High, Lee? [Gestures around the room] You never could have gotten into a scene like this at your old school.
Lee: There was no scene like this at Clark. [Exasperatedly] Look, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little sick of the whole “William Friedman is our savior” routine. [Mutters] Why does someone always have to be the goddamned star?
Joanne: There are enough real shitheads out there. Doc F. has done right by us, and that’s good enough for me.
Lee: [Holds up his hand] Alright. Forget I said anything.
Billy: Forgotten. So how about this set? One more time?
Fran: Rock and Roll!
The band rips into X’s “Los Angeles.”
Wednesday, January 20th, 2011, 10:30am, PST
Location: Stephen Fortunato’s American History class. The subject is the failure of the 60s counterculture, as portrayed in Hunter S. Thompson’s “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” and the class is engaged in vigorous conversation. Participants include Valerie Saunders, Elizabeth Goldman, David Weber, Myron Freelander, and Randy Dickson.
Mr. Fortunato: So how’d everyone do with decoding all the metaphors?
David: That was the hardest part.
Valerie: Yeah, I definitely missed Google on this one.
Myron: Word. It would’ve made the job a lot easier.
Randy: But not better, brother.
Mr. Fortunato: [Nods] Randy understands.
David: I dunno’… seems to me that this is the sort of thing that the internet is actually good for. Beyond all the porn and sensationalist crap, it also gives you access to unlimited information.
Mr. Fortunato: The key word being “unlimited.”
David: How can unlimited information be bad?
Mr. Fortunato: [Smiles] You haven’t been grading student papers for the last twenty years.
Randy: They’ve gotten worse.
Mr. Fortunato: Much worse. And you can date it — mark the beginning of the slide — and it’s when internet access became ubiquitous.
Myron: Now, that’s hard to understand; not that student papers have gotten worse, but that it’s because of kids’ access to unlimited information.
Randy: What if you tried to learn Kung Fu that way?
Myron: What way?
Randy: By going on the internet. Googling “Kung Fu.” Clicking on the links that come up. Watching YouTube videos…
Myron: [Laughs] That wouldn’t work. You gotta’ learn it from a Master.
Liz: [To Mr. Fortunato] Your point is that “unlimited” also means “indiscriminate.”
Mr. Fortunato: Unless you already know a lot about your subject, internet searches are more likely to provide you with garbage than with good information.
Valerie: [Her eyes narrowing] But, even if there is more crap on the internet, there’s also more good stuff. I mean, we have one library here. But with the internet, you get access to every library on the planet, as well as every other possible resource.
Liz: Don’t think about how much there is, in total, Val. Think about how likely it is you’re gonna’ find the good stuff.
Mr. Fortunato: [Pacing] You’re researching the structure of DNA for Bobbie Novak’s Honors Bio class. There are two rooms, both filled with books. In the first room, there are a hundred books, handpicked by a group of molecular biologists. In the second room, there are ten thousand books, which include those hundred books, plus nine thousand, nine hundred other books selected indiscriminately. So, it’ll include stuff written by mediocre biologists, science popularizers, Young Earth Creationists, and assorted cranks of every other variety. You have a limited amount of time and know nothing about the subject yourself. In which room are you more likely to find a greater number of good sources on DNA?
Valerie: [Her eyes widening] The first room.
Mr. Fortunato: [Nods] An academic library, like ours, is the first room. Every book in it has been hand-selected by experts. The history teachers pick which history books the school buys. The science teachers pick the science books, and so on. And Will Friedman picks the best teachers. But a Google search…
Valerie: …is the second room.
Mr. Fortunato smiles broadly.
David: [Murmurs] Doing research is as much about learning how to research as it is about what you’re researching.
Mr. Fortunato: So, what did you guys discover in our humble little library?
Liz: The Counterculture failed because of widespread American racism.
Mr. Fortunato: Explain.
Liz: The Southern Strategy. That was an appeal to racism, obviously. Also, the whole “Silent Majority” thing.
Valerie: [To Liz] Did you read that article from the New York Times on Kevin Phillips…the one from 1970?
Liz: That was probably the best source I found.
Valerie: I couldn’t believe how open Phillips was about it. He just came right out and said that the Republicans could win the South by convincing racist, white Democrats to switch parties, because the “Negroes” were voting for the Democrats.
Mr. Fortunato: And what does that openness — that brazenness — tell you?
Valerie: That he wasn’t afraid of it hurting his cause; that the public was already racist enough for him to admit it.
David: You’d never be able to get away with that, now.
Randy: You sure about that?
David: If you’re openly racist like that today, people call you on it.
Randy: The whole South is still Republican. Senators, Congressmen, Governors. And the only Democrats that can become President are from the South: Johnson, Carter, Clinton…
David: Fair enough. That last point, though. It goes beyond the South. Presidential elections are national.
Randy smiles grimly.
David: [Turning to Mr. Fortunato] I think we have to disambiguate. The Silent Majority stuff doesn’t seem to be about racism, at least not in the book.
Mr. Fortunato: Go on.
David: The constant references to the “Spiro Agnew” set. That crazy scene with Debbie Reynolds singing the Beatles. It seemed like the focus there was on hippie culture, not race.
Mr. Fortunato: What point do you think Thompson was making?
David: [Struggling] It almost seemed like — shit, how do I put it — the reactionaries had figured out that the best way to beat the hippies was by appropriating their music and their iconography, rather than trying to ban them.
Valerie: That totally makes sense. You hear it in supermarkets. It’s been turned into Muzak.
Myron: They do that to every musician. Look at Hip Hop: you’ve got Snoop Dogg selling Hot Pockets. Brother used to be a Crip.
David: Right. The whole Silent Majority thing was about opposition to the youth culture; to liberal attitudes and free lifestyles [laughs] “sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll.” But not to racial minorities; at least, not per se.
Randy: You can fit a lot into that “per se.”
David: Fair enough.
Randy: And you’re forgetting the most important metaphor in the book.
David: Which one?
Randy: Ali losing to Frazier.
Mr. Fortunato: [Eyes sparkling] Ahh.
Randy: It ties the two pieces together: the racism and the hatred of youth culture.
David: How?
Randy: [Leans forwards] Frazier was a common, blue-collar type, a Christian, and a patriot, while Ali was aristocratic, a Muslim, and anti-war. He refused to go to Vietnam and was arrested; had his heavyweight title stripped from him. Now, who do you think the “Silent Majority” was rooting for? And who do you think the counterculture was rooting for?
Mr. Fortunato: [Passes David’s seat] Do you see it?
David: I think so. The Ali-Frazier fight is a metaphor for the entire battle between the counterculture and the forces of reaction, aka “The Silent Majority.”
Randy: You’ve got it.
David: It’s all there. The racial angle — civil rights, Black nationalism, the Nation of Islam — and the central issue of the youth movement, 1960s rock and roll, Vietnam, and the draft.
Liz: [Deliberately] You know what, though? I don’t think that Thompson is really blaming the Silent Majority.
David: What?!
Liz: [Raises her hand] He hates them and their vision of America, but he doesn’t think that the failure of the counterculture is their fault.
Mr. Fortunato: Why do you say that?
Liz: Because Thompson flat out says that it was ultimately their own fault. That the counterculture failed, because it was naïve and self-indulgent.
Mr. Fortunato: Too much Haight Ashbury and not enough SDS.
Liz: Pretty much.
Mr. Fortunato: [Walks to the blackboard, his hands on his hips, and turns around.] And don’t forget what he says about the why of it. The terrible mistake that they all made.
Valerie: What mistake?
Mr. Fortunato: The mistake of thinking that being right was enough. That living freely would make others love freedom too. That feeling it, in all its glory, would make those who opposed you feel it too…
David: …that putting a flower into the barrel of a National Guardsman’s rifle would make him decide not to shoot you.
A long silence and bowed heads, and then the bell rings, marking the end of the period.
January 8, 10:30 AM, PST
Location: The NRH Studios. Chloe Gold is there, alone, waiting for Mitch and Tom to arrive, for their first meeting of the semester. She is drifting around the room, her hand coming to rest lovingly on each piece of equipment that she passes, a faint smile on her face.
Mitch enters the room, unnoticed by Chloe, who is lost in her thoughts. He watches her for a moment, then clears his throat.
Chloe: [Turns to him, her face breaking open into a broad smile.] Mitch!
Mitch: Chloe, it’s good to see you.
The two approach each other, until they are just a foot or so apart. A moment passes and then Mitch puts out his arms.
Chloe [Hugs him to her, tightly] I missed you.
Mitch: It did seem like a long break. Good, but long.
Chloe: I was missing you before the break started. It felt like…
Mitch: I know.
Chloe: I didn’t want to…
Mitch: [Takes up her hands and kisses them] It wasn’t you, Chloe. It was me. I needed to…work some things out.
Chloe: [Looks down] Yeah.
Mitch: [Reaches out and gently touches her chin, pulling her face up] It’s OK, Chloe, really. [looks her in the eye] I mean it.
Chloe: [Her face shining] Oh, Mitch, I’m so glad.
Mitch: Everything’s happened so fast. I needed some time to figure out what it meant for me, you know? What I’d become; what I’m becoming.
Chloe: [Tousles his hair and traces the side of his face] Magnificent. You’ve become magnificent.
Mitch: [Presses her hand against his cheek.] Thanks to you, Chloe. The studios; the documentary film; Kim. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.
Chloe: [Moves her hand from Mitch’s cheek to his chest] It was there all along, Mitch. Someone just needed to help bring it out.
Mitch: Not just someone. You.
Chloe: [Turns and walks slowly to one of the computers. Stops with her back to him] You’ve helped me just as much as I’ve helped you, Mitch. More, maybe.
Mitch: I doubt that.
Chloe: [Turns to face him again] Don’t. I was as broken as you when I first came here.
Mitch: [Sighs] Yeah, I guess I knew that; or at least, a part of me did. It’s why you never talk about your life before; about Beverly Hills. It’s just so easy to forget. You always seem so comfortable with everyone; so in command.
Chloe: [Laughs, with just the slightest hint of bitterness] A carefully maintained image. When you’re as wealthy as I am and move in the circles I do, you learn to do it at a very young age. It’s practiced.
Mitch: [Shakes his head] Hard to believe…
Chloe: The world I live in is a very lonely place, with very few kids. Most of the people I’ve hung out with have been adults. And once I figured out what the sick scene at Beverly Hills High was all about, I was completely isolated, except for Tom.
Mitch: He was the only one you could share it with; the only one who’d understand it from the inside.
Chloe: That’s right. And then I came here.
Mitch: [Smiling] And we met.
Chloe: And for the first time, I could be myself with everyone. It wasn’t about money or looks or any kind of status. It was about us — students, teachers, administrators — together in this magical place. [Gestures around her]
Mitch: It was when you became magnificent.
Chloe: [Moves up against him, resting her head on his chest. Whispers.] Yes.
A long moment passes, as they stand there, like that, Mitch stroking the back of Chloe’s head. Then the door opens and Tom enters the room. Stops short, when he sees them.
Tom: Should I come back?
Chloe: [Lifts her head from Mitch’s chest, her eyes wet, but her face aglow] No, come in. We were just talking about…
Mitch: Being magnificent.
Tom: [Raises an eyebrow] I see. I’m afraid I’ll have to leave that sort of thing to you two.
Chloe: [Mock whispering to Mitch] He’s magnificent too. He just won’t admit it.
Mitch nods knowingly and touches the side of his nose.
Tom: So, is this just a feel-good session or are you guys up for talking some business?
Mitch: Aren’t you going to tell us about your vacation?
Tom: No.
Mitch: But you went to Aspen!
Tom: Did some skiing; met some old friends; you know.
Chloe: Let it go, Mitch. That’s all we’re gonna’ get.
Mitch: I don’t suppose he wants to hear about our vacations.
Chloe: Definitely not.
Tom smiles contentedly.
Mitch: Business it is!
Tom: Excellent.
Mitch: Have a seat guys. [Walks over to the news desk, where there are three neat stacks of papers. Distributes two of them to Tom and Chloe and takes the third for himself.] I’ve put together a status report.
The three sit in silence, for a few moments, while Chloe and Tom scan the report.
Tom: Jesus.
Chloe: Ya.
Mitch: It is a lot.
Tom: Let’s see. [Thumbs back to the first page, where there is an outline] Advisory teams to the new schools; print, radio, and television broadcasts; Stage Night; the Senior Party; Graduation.
Chloe: [Her head in her hands] Ohhh…
Tom: And don’t forget, we’re supposed to be students too. I’ve got Honors Physics with Sal; Honors Calculus with Miss Stark…
Chloe: Soon to be Mrs. Fortunato, from what I hear.
Tom: That’s hardly the point.
Chloe: Love blooms at New Ridgemont High.
Tom: Work, Chloe. I’m talking about the fucking work. This semester’s going to be insane.
Chloe: I choose to look at the bright side of things.
Tom: [Tossing the report onto the table] My social life evaporating is not “the bright side of things.”
Chloe: But that’s one of the things that’s so great about New Ridgemont High. There’s no line between school and social life.
Tom: Jaime and I like to go out, Chloe. On dates. We don’t want to spend every minute in the school. I mean, not everyone has their…
Chloe: [Eyes narrowing] Has their what?
Tom: [Catches her gaze and looks down] Nothing.
Mitch: [Interrupts] You guys are overreacting.
Tom: We are?
Mitch: You’re forgetting that a lot of this work is gonna’ be done by other people. We sorted this out at the last Executive Council meeting.
Tom: [Grumbling] It’s still a fuckload of work.
Chloe: [Strokes Tom’s arm] It’ll be OK, honey.
Tom: [Straightens himself and smooths back his hair] I agreed to it. Now, it’s time to do it.
Mitch: [Apologetically] I thought we might just go through a few of the details.
Tom: I’ve been fortified. Speak.
Mitch: Valerie Saunders and Denise Diamond have been wondering why they can’t plan the Senior Party. [Rubs his eyes] To be fair, we did make them the heads of the “social committee.”
Chloe: Will and I are doing the Senior Party.
Mitch: I know, I know, it’s just that they’re agitating a little.
Chloe: Are they really pissed about it?
Mitch: No, they’re just wondering.
Chloe: It’s a special thing. Our first graduating class. Will and I want to make sure they have a rocking sendoff.
Tom: I’ll talk to them. Now that I’m dating Jaime, I see them sometimes.
Chloe: Do you think it was a mistake putting them in charge of the parties?
Tom: No. Valerie’s actually really smart. In fact, she’s a lot like Jaime: bitch exterior with a lot underneath. I guess that’s why they’re best friends. And Denise will do whatever Valerie tells her. It’s just… God, that whole fucking scene.
Chloe: [Pats his arm] It’s worth it, Tom. Jaime’s good people. I used to dislike her, but I’ve come around..
Tom: In truth, it’s been a lot of fun. I just find myself going through bouts of self-loathing.
Chloe: That’s just the past talking. This isn’t Beverly Hills. We’re not floating anymore. And Jaime may be a bitch, but she’s no Beverly Hills bitch.
Tom: Thank God for that.
Mitch: [Makes a check mark on his yellow pad] So, there’s just one other thing.
Tom: Shoot.
Mitch: The guy from the ABC affiliate: John Stacy. He’s been bugging me for an interview with you.
Tom: He wants to interview us?
Mitch: [Apologetically] Not you, Tom. Chloe.
Tom: Why am I not surprised?
Chloe: [Looking uncomfortable] Me? What for?
Mitch: What for? Are you serious? New Ridgemont High is the biggest news in the state. And like it or not, you’re the face of New Ridgemont High.
Chloe: I would have thought Will would be the face of New Ridgemont High, not me.
Tom: Your face is prettier. And you’ve got nicer legs.
Chloe: Ugh. Talk about a reason to say “No.”
Mitch: I think you’d better do it. We’re counting on good PR.
Chloe: [Sighs] Okay.
Mitch: [Picks up his pen] Tuesday?
Chloe: Sure.
Mitch: Twelve O’clock?
Chloe: Fine.
Mitch: Do either of you have any business?
Tom: Thankfully, no.
Chloe: Me neither.
Mitch: [Gathering his papers] Well, then, if you don’t mind, I’m meeting Kim at the New Galleria.
Tom: Now that’s something worth doing.
Chloe: [Waves at Mitch, as he makes his way out the door] Have fun!
Tom: Do you need a ride home?
Chloe: No, Will is picking me up.
Tom: Will’s taking you home?
Chloe: No, we’re going out to a restaurant.
Tom: A restaurant?
Chloe: Yeah, there’s a lot we need to discuss. We’ve been invited to the Governor’s mansion this weekend for a party. Congresswoman Best is going to be there. [Gestures helplessly] We’ve gotta’ talk about it, y’know?
Tom: At least he’s buying you a nice dinner.
Chloe: [Laughs] Yeah, well, anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow. [Picks up her handbag]
Tom: [Curls his thumb and fingers into the “OK” sign] Be seeing you.
Chloe exits, leaving Tom alone in the room. He stares at the door, stroking his chin, thinking.
