In the fall of 1967, I went to work for Batjac Productions. It was a Monday-to-Friday job from around 3:30 in the afternoon—when I wasn’t in detention—until 6:30 or 7. The company had this 16-year-old Loyola High School senior photocopying scripts, answering fan mail, matching canceled checks to bank statements, running messages and film cans between Batjac’s offices at Paramount in Hollywood and Warner Bros. in Burbank, and, from time to time, driving John Wayne.