Meeting John Fante, Author, Screenwriter
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Meeting John Fante, Author, Screenwriter
I had just returned from Vietnam in 1967 and was given a basic training company at Fort Bragg. One of the rifle range NCOs did me a couple of favors by issuing extra ammunition to my soldiers who had failed (bolo) their first try at qualifying with the M-14 rifle.
Buck Sergeant Bill Burkholz and I quickly became close friends. He ran RECON with the 101st Airborne Division in Vietnam and was wounded. I returned to Vietnam in 1968, and Bill took a discharge and returned to his home in Malibu, California. He rented a guest house from a friend in the neighborhood he had grown up in as a teenager.
I stayed in touch with Bill while I was in Vietnam, and he invited me to spend a couple of days with him in Malibu when I returned from Vietnam in 1970. I thought it was a good idea and a good way to wind down from Vietnam. I first went to Las Vegas and spent ten days leave there, buying a new car and then drove to Malibu.
Bill had decided to live the good life surfing everyday (He was a World Class surfer) and working as a carpenter just enough to pay his bills.
One morning Bill wanted to surf Point Dume’s private beach, and I planned on emptying a bottle of Kessler’s and watch from the cliffs.
We stopped at his high school girlfriend’s house and dropped off a load of his laundry; she agreed to wash for him. Bill introduced me to her and her father, who asked that we come back after the surf calmed down in the afternoon. Bill agreed because he was going to pick up his laundry. I didn’t care, one way or the other—I was in my own little world.
We walked from the house at the end of Greyfox Street to a private gated path leading down to the beach. I found myself a comfortable spot on the cliff and watched Bill surf with his local buddies and got pleasantly mellow.
When we returned to the house, the girl’s father was waiting and anxious to talk with me about Vietnam. He asked his daughter Joyce, to get him a glass of wine, and she refused—berating him. He then showed me his books, which I politely scanned, but I was more interested in finishing my Kessler’s and talking with people my own age. The old man went off by himself and Bill, Joyce and I talked mostly about a party that was going to take place on the beach that night.
Forty years pass.
Early in 2010, I received a telephone call from Bill Burkholz. We hadn’t communicated in over 35 years after having lost touch with each other. His current girlfriend looked me up on the Internet after her brother read one of my novels. Bill retired from the fire department on Hawaii’s northernmost island and decided to operate a charter fishing boat. I asked him if he remembered who the author was I met back in 1970, and he quickly recalled the name—John Fante because he dated his daughter Joyce, when they were in high school together at Malibu.
I did an Internet search on John Fante and found out he was a famous screenwriter and author. His book “Ask the Dust” is a California classic. I also did a Google Earth search and found the old Fante house on Grayfox Street and another house on Cliffside where one of Bill’s high schools friends lived and Bill had introduced me to him back in 1970.
The Google Earth tour sparked my interest, and I did a realtor search for homes for sale on the Point. Interestingly, the house where Bill’s friend lived at 1 Cliffside was selling for 44 million dollars and there were three houses on Grayfox Street all selling for 10 million and up.
I called Bill the following weekend. He was out on his charter boat with clients and couldn’t talk long. When I mentioned to him what the houses were selling for on Point Dume, he chuckled and told me none of his high school friends could afford to live where they were raised as kids and a couple of them who inherited their parents estates were forced to sell them because they could not afford the taxes and upkeep.
I wonder what would have happened if I accepted the friendship John Fante offered and I so arrogantly discarded.
Buck Sergeant Bill Burkholz and I quickly became close friends. He ran RECON with the 101st Airborne Division in Vietnam and was wounded. I returned to Vietnam in 1968, and Bill took a discharge and returned to his home in Malibu, California. He rented a guest house from a friend in the neighborhood he had grown up in as a teenager.
I stayed in touch with Bill while I was in Vietnam, and he invited me to spend a couple of days with him in Malibu when I returned from Vietnam in 1970. I thought it was a good idea and a good way to wind down from Vietnam. I first went to Las Vegas and spent ten days leave there, buying a new car and then drove to Malibu.
Bill had decided to live the good life surfing everyday (He was a World Class surfer) and working as a carpenter just enough to pay his bills.
One morning Bill wanted to surf Point Dume’s private beach, and I planned on emptying a bottle of Kessler’s and watch from the cliffs.
We stopped at his high school girlfriend’s house and dropped off a load of his laundry; she agreed to wash for him. Bill introduced me to her and her father, who asked that we come back after the surf calmed down in the afternoon. Bill agreed because he was going to pick up his laundry. I didn’t care, one way or the other—I was in my own little world.
We walked from the house at the end of Greyfox Street to a private gated path leading down to the beach. I found myself a comfortable spot on the cliff and watched Bill surf with his local buddies and got pleasantly mellow.
When we returned to the house, the girl’s father was waiting and anxious to talk with me about Vietnam. He asked his daughter Joyce, to get him a glass of wine, and she refused—berating him. He then showed me his books, which I politely scanned, but I was more interested in finishing my Kessler’s and talking with people my own age. The old man went off by himself and Bill, Joyce and I talked mostly about a party that was going to take place on the beach that night.
Forty years pass.
Early in 2010, I received a telephone call from Bill Burkholz. We hadn’t communicated in over 35 years after having lost touch with each other. His current girlfriend looked me up on the Internet after her brother read one of my novels. Bill retired from the fire department on Hawaii’s northernmost island and decided to operate a charter fishing boat. I asked him if he remembered who the author was I met back in 1970, and he quickly recalled the name—John Fante because he dated his daughter Joyce, when they were in high school together at Malibu.
I did an Internet search on John Fante and found out he was a famous screenwriter and author. His book “Ask the Dust” is a California classic. I also did a Google Earth search and found the old Fante house on Grayfox Street and another house on Cliffside where one of Bill’s high schools friends lived and Bill had introduced me to him back in 1970.
The Google Earth tour sparked my interest, and I did a realtor search for homes for sale on the Point. Interestingly, the house where Bill’s friend lived at 1 Cliffside was selling for 44 million dollars and there were three houses on Grayfox Street all selling for 10 million and up.
I called Bill the following weekend. He was out on his charter boat with clients and couldn’t talk long. When I mentioned to him what the houses were selling for on Point Dume, he chuckled and told me none of his high school friends could afford to live where they were raised as kids and a couple of them who inherited their parents estates were forced to sell them because they could not afford the taxes and upkeep.
I wonder what would have happened if I accepted the friendship John Fante offered and I so arrogantly discarded.
