Free Teaching the Pig to Dance: A Memoir by Fred Thompson Page A

to me at the time that just about everything Peter Maas had ever written was made into a movie or a television treatment. Sure enough, Dino DeLaurentiis, the legendary film producer, bought the rights to
Marie
. I was pleased, but I took no special note of it. I was back to building my law practice and making a living, which meant bringing in some cases more remunerative than Marie’s had been.
    Several weeks later, however, I found myself enjoying a pleasant change of pace reliving the Marie–Blanton saga over drinks and dinner with some new acquaintances. In Nashville, we were used to rubbing shoulders with country music stars (I had briefly represented Waylon Jennings, and I sued George Jones for another client), but we didn’t get a lot of Hollywood traffic. But that night, I was having dinner with the producer, Frank Capra, Jr., and the director, Roger Donaldson. They were going to make the Marie movie and were talking with people who had had a part in the real-life drama in order to get the flavor of the story and to help them in supervising the writing of the script. I was one of many they were talking to, but we hit it off and over the next few months had periodic bull sessions. They told me that Debra Winger was considered for the role of Marie but that the part went to Sissy Spacek. They mentioned other potential cast members, including someone who was going to have a small role as one of the other board members, a little-known actor by the name of Morgan Freeman. Part of the movie would be shot in Nashville. Some Nashvillians would probably be used for “walk-on” parts, and they told me they would putme on the list. That was fine with me; I thought it would give me a chance to see how a movie was made.
    One day a few weeks later, I was in the office when Roger Donaldson called. They were going to have a casting call at the Sheraton Hotel across the street from my office and asked if I would be interested in coming over and reading something for them. He said he would send it over in advance. “Sure,” I said, “we can catch up.” As I hung up, I could envision a scene where I would walk in and say something like, “Your car is waiting, ma’am,” and on opening night my friends and I could laugh about it.
    The line of people waiting to get into the Sheraton for auditions for the walk-ons and extras went around the block. In fact, my daughter Betsy, then twenty-one, and my longtime assistant, Bobbie Murphy, were in the line, and both became extras. My movie-mogul friends had already arranged for me to come in a side door to save me the embarrassment from appearing to do exactly what I was doing. I wasn’t above being one of the mob clamoring to get a bit part in a movie, but I
was
above anybody knowing that I was doing it. A professional man has got an image to keep up. The guys back in Lawrenceburg would certainly not have approved of me sneaking in a side door to get a bit part in a movie.
    A couple of hours before I went over to the Sheraton, a few pages that looked like part of a movie script arrived. Itwas a scene with Marie Ragghianti and “Fred.” Being quick on the uptake, I concluded that that would be
me
. Whoa, this was getting interesting. It had never occurred to me that my character would have a part in the movie. I assumed that for courtroom scenes they would use fictionalized versions of the characters other than Marie.
    I went over and was taken to a hotel room with a small motion-picture camera on a tripod in the corner of the room. I told Roger, “Hey, I don’t do porn movies unless the pay is right.” “You wish,” Roger replied. Roger introduced me to the only other person in the room, Lynn Stalmaster, who I later learned was one of the leading casting directors in Hollywood. I sat down in front of the camera, and Lynn stood behind it and read Marie’s part as we did the scene (with me looking down at the script as needed). When we finished, Stalmaster said, “Not bad,”