Evel World

                                                         EVEL WORLD

 I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they’ve always worked for me.

                                                                           Hunter S. Thompson

 

 Evel Knievel moves like a rusty tin woodsman. The most famous daredevil in the world is in Crested Butte to film a series of commercial spots for the upcoming X-games & he’s not happy about it.

 “God this is a *&%^$ frozen wasteland.” He confides to Smokey Moore & myself. “I cant wait to get the hell outa here.”

 Smokey & I have been chosen out of a couple dozen applicants to play Evel’s State Trooper bodyguards for the 3 day ESPN shoot.

 Not as if he needs body guards. The guy is meaner than a snake, & for good reason. In the course of his colorful career he has broken every major bone in his body. Something like 35 of them. He has spent over 3 years in hospital beds & will soon be re-admitted for hip replacement surgery. He is in constant pain.

 “Worst #$@!* mistake I ever made, watching a 2 hour video of that hip operation. They slice you open like a !@#$# pig.” He tells us.

 “You, Evel Knievel, nervous?” I ask gingerly.

 “Lookit pal, I have a healthy sense of fear, I just managed to control it.”

Even behind Gucci mirrored sunglasses I can feel his glare...I squirm like a schoolboy.

 “All those jumps, those stunts, I was confidant cause I was good. I was a damn good motorcycle racer before I even started in the stunt business. I knew what I could do...what I couldn’t do. Had it all very well planed out.....most of the time.”

 “That film of your Caesar Palace jump was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen.” Smokey ventures.

 “I can’t even watch it.” says Evel.

 “Your son Robbie finally made the jump huh?” Stupid question...the whole world knows he made it, but the guy has me nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

 “Well he wouldn’t have made it...would have been decapitated if I hadn’t redesigned the landing ramp for him. I extended it 10 feet & he just barely made that.”

 “Is Robbie pretty much a full time... uh...daredevil?”

 “He makes 2 jumps a month.”

 “Does that bother you?”

 “It’s his life.”

 The door to the Winnabago, our dressing room, opens & the director, a soft spoken unshaven 20 something year old from Food Chain Films, invites us out.

 “Mr. Knievel, we’re ready for you, if you care to follow me & take a seat in front of the camera please. You cops stand behind him.”

 Evel moves painfully on the uneven snow. His hip bone has all but worn away, shortening one leg by two inches. Bony knuckles clutch an evil wolf headed silver cane. Mammoth gold & diamond rings & gaudy bracelets reflect the sun. A huge solid gold Harley that looks to weigh more than my kid hangs about his neck. The Harleys wheels are two diamonds the size of my eyeballs. He wears a white leather suit complete with red & blue stars & stripes. A silk cape drapes his shoulders.

 It would take a certain amount of ego simply to wear the suit....that is not a problem here.

The group of 35 directors, technicians, assistants, accountants, runners, & script writers parts as Evel makes his way to the seat.

 Huge cue cards are held above the camera. Two highly paid script writers from New York have come up with: My name is Evel Knievel...I am a daredevil.

 “ That’s pretty God-%#@! evident isn’t it? People know who I am!” says Evel.

 “Your absolutely right Mr. Knievel”, purrs the director then turns to the crowd & howls...”SCRIPT!!”

 The cards are being changed as the director again bellows “Someone get a coat on Evel, WARDROBE cover his ears!

 Powla the wardrobe girl covers Evels ears with her hands so not to muss his hair.

 “Hear no evil.” She grins.

 Again the cards are raised above the camera. Evel reads in a monotone.

 “That’s beautiful baby...very nice Evel...very...very ...the director searches for the right word but can’t find it. He kneels by Evels side.

 “OK Mr. Knievel”, he soothes, we’re gonna do that again & what I’d like is a bit more passion...you know anger...like your mad at your kid...mad at the world...passion!!

 “OK QUIET!! SOUND!! & ACTION!!”

 Again Evel reads in the exact same voice.

 “CUT!!  Beautiful babe...that’s great Evil...shivers up my spine...great...just....”

 Two more takes & Evel limps back to the motor home, $ 20,000.oo richer.

“STAND IN!!” Screams the director.

 Al Maunz, Evels’ stand in, is led out in leather suit & helmet. We call him ‘Pretty bad.’

 “OK gentlemen this is the scene. You cops sit on these two police snowmobiles flanking Mr., Knievel, your backs to the camera. When I yell action the three of you blast up this hill & over the horizon. Ready?”

 Now J.R. of J.R.s Snowmobiles, had done a beautiful job with these machines. The police sleds were black with sirens & police decals all over them. Evels machine, an ancient classic was virtually covered in stars strips & huge ‘EVEL KNIEVEL’ along it’s side.

 However no one had told J.R. that Evels snowmobile actually had to run. All Evel was gonna do was sit on it...he had been told.

“ACTION!!” Yelled the director & off tore the cops.

 Evel Knievel & his rocket sled jumped about 6 inches forward & exploded in a cloud of smoke.

 “CUT!!

 

 DAY 2

 We’re bouncing along in the back of a CBMR Snow cat at 6 am headed for the patrol shack at 11,500 feet above sea level.

  It’s freezing cold, loud, & rough. Evel is not happy.

 “Hope they brought the beer.” He growls....”Wheres the #$@!! beer?

 Evel has been on ‘the wagon’ for about 5 years now. Down from a quart of whiskey a day to a handful of pain pills & a dozen beers...’the wagon’, he calls it.

 He’s cranky as a cape buffalo till the first round of pills & beers kick in.

 “Hey Evel...You married?” Asks Powla.

 “Na, got a girlfriend...she’s 27.”

 “Little age difference there huh?” Evel’s in his 60s.

 “Hey, she dies, she dies.” says Evel.

 “What do you do for a living now?” Inquires Smokey.

“I golf.” says Evel. “I golf & bet on it.”

 “How much you bet Evel?” Asks Powla.

 “I’ve won up to 100 grand on a game...lost 50 grand on a game.”

 Actually Evel Knievel is a money machine. He has a line of clothing, toys, cigars. He makes commercials for hotels, motorcycles, credit cards. He’s opening a chain of Evel Kanivals Daredevil Cafes from Vegas to Tennasee. 30,000 sq foot edifices stuffed with Evel memorabilia. Hollywood is making a movie of his life. Evels’ corporate headquarters & home is Clearwater Fla.

 “How’d you get your name?” Or were you born Evil.” I ventured.

“I was born Bob....I picked up Evel at age 14...it had something to do with the pitchers mound, the neighbor’s daughter & gettin caught.”

 We finally arrived at the patrol shack. Evel seemed more interested in the first aid kit than the view. He cracked jokes with the patrollers who cajoled him into signing the flight for life calendar. The caterers delivered lunch & about 50 patrol & movie crew chewed & joked together.

 “Hey Evel, How’s about we take you out on the town.” said Frank Coffee

 “What’ll that take?...5 minutes?”

 

 “Scene 4 , take 1.” Called the director. “OK, now in this scene I want you cops to hike up into those trees cut across that snowfield & stand on the cliffs edge holding the American Flag.”

 Standing perfectly still in a polyester cop suit breaking a 60 mile an hour, 30 below zero wind, knee deep in powder is not the most pleasant way to spend an hour, but the pay was good & soon far below they bundled up Evel & hauled him of the mountain, another 20,000 richer.

“OK COPS C”MON DOWN!!” Yelled the director. “

We couldn’t move, our knees frozen solid. Smoky looked at me, two icicles dangling from his mustache.

 “Copsicle.” I said.

 “Lucky we’re not modeling Speedo’s.” agreed Smokey

 

DAY 3

“So what’s it cost to make a commercial?”

 We we’re sitting in a Irwin Lodge Snow cat at the Amax turn off waiting for Evel to show. We had been waiting for 2 hours.

I was trying to carry a conversation with the film company’s New York Accountant. We we’re two men very much apart.

 “Why?” His eyes narrowed as he stared through me.

“Well I own a little construction company, Church Bros., heard of us?”

 “No”

 Anyway I’m thinking of doing a TV ad.”

 “This one’s costing $1000.oo a minute, but that’s cheap.”

 “I’ll call ya.”

 We had been sitting since 6:oo am. At 9 Evel showed.

 Now Al, from Al’s coffee garden had been hired to follow the crew around for the past three days. This particular morning Al had been sent to set up shop atop Irwin pass anticipating the movie crews arrival.

 And there he stood, tables full of granola, doughnuts & coffee, atop a closed pass in a blinding snowstorm all alone.

 Along comes Jon Biro, major of Irwin on his snowmobile.

 Biro shot past the coffee garden going about 100 yards before it registered. He turned back, pulled up & removed his helmet.

 “Al, gimmie a double cappuccino & a cheese croissant.” Says Biro without missing a beat.

 

 Jostling along Kebler pass in the cat I asked Evel about his Snake River Canyon jump.

“I had permission from secretary Udall to use the land but when we arrive & start unloading the cats to build the ramps the local BLM shuts us down. Says no way we’re using BLM Land. Well I got 50,000 tickets sold so I just ease on down the canyon & lease  property from some old rancher.”

“Well what about the other side, wasn’t that BLM Land?”

“I just filed a flight plan to Boise...nothing to say you can’t pull an emergency landing.”

 Evel wasn’t feeling well, he doubled over in his seat clutching his stomach.

 “Should we get an EMT?” I asked him.

 “An EMT? You’ll need the snap tool guy & a damn good mechanic to work on Evel Knievel.” Joked a key grip.

 Evel removed his Gucci glasses for the first time. He looks a little like Paul Neuman, if Paul Neuman had done hard time.

“Stop the cat.” groans Evel & three cats & 40 people come to a halt as Evel stumbles out & heaves.

 “God I hate this $#@%! place.” as he crawls back in out of the blizzard. “I’m on the first plane outa here.”

 

 We set up the first shoot at the Irwin Y. A frozen wasteland of dead willows & blowing snow. “PERFECT!” says the director.

 “I want a @!#$% bathroom... now!”  says the worlds toughest daredevil.

 A snowcat is dispatched with our hero to the lodge, a 45 minute ride one way. Again we sit & wait. An hour later we get a radio message.

 “We’re experiencing a power steering problem.”

 “We’re not quite to the lodge, send another cat for Mr. Knievel!”

 The director grabbed the radio “You mean you haven’t even made the lodge yet? How’s Mr. Knievel taking this?”

 “He’s getting a little...antsy.” cracked the radio.

“ This is the most expensive toilet break in the history of film.” groaned the accountant.

 “That’s not the worst part.” offered an assistant.

 “Whatdamean?” asked the director.

 “There’s a bar up there.”

 “OH NO!”

 

At 1:30 Evel returned. He was very animated & in a fine mood. The rest of us were frozen stiff & starving. We had been up since 5:oo am & had not shot a frame. Channel 9 news had been there for two hours waiting for a live shot of Evel Knievel.

 The shot was simple. A spray-painted white lazy-boy recliner was set up in the middle of the snow blowing field. A TV with rabbit ears was set in front of the chair. The concept was that Evel was watching the X games on the tube & cheering on the participants. The two sunglassed State Troopers stood at attention at Evels shoulders.

Suddenly the whine a snowmobile broke the silence...

 “CUT!!” Screamed the director his prozac wearing thin.

 A snowmobile droned slowly up the valley. Finally coming to a stop in the center of the movie set. The driver removed his helmet.

 “Officer! I’d like to file a complaint! Some idiot on another snowmobile tried to run me off the road!”

 Dead silence...then the director snapped.

 “CHURCH! SHOOT THAT GUY!”

 I drew my gun, plastic but very real looking & started toward the guy.

 Not bothering to don the helmet the intruder floored his sled & tore off up the road.

“POSITIONS!”

 Evel was seated, the cameras started rolling, both ESPN & Channel 9 news zoomed in on us as Evel pretended to watch TV. He was getting more & more into his roll, his arms waving the remote control about when suddenly his remote hand swung back & slammed me right in the crotch.

 The lights went out as I hit the ground.

“CUT!” Screamed the director.

 I was rolling about in the snow clutching myself as they led Evel to a waiting cat to whisk him to the airport. I heard the director over the roar in my ears.

 “I certainly hope you didn’t hurt your hand there Mr. Knievel.”

 And Americas favorite daredevil walked away, again the winner.