Shell Shocked: The hit man cometh
When I was a kid and went to the movies what seemed like four times a day, I was smitten by leading men and the jobs they held on the silver screen. I remember seeing “The Fountainhead” with Gary Cooper and immediately wanted to be an architect when I grew up.
Then I saw “Citizen Kane” and wanted to start a newspaper. When I saw “All the King’s Men” my heart was set on becoming governor of Louisiana, until the main character died at the end. I was a malleable kid. Whatever profession I witnessed on the movie screen was my career choice of the day. Since I saw a lot of movies in those days, I had a long list of careers awaiting me police detective, astronaut, lawyer, doctor, submarine commander, college football coach and covert spy.
I couldn’t quite make up my mind. I would leave each movie I saw planning next steps in my new career until the next movie. Then I saw a movie called “The Jackal,” and then and there I knew what my career of choice was going to be — an international assassin.
I envisioned a career of glamour, adventure, and excitement. When I saw “This Gun for Hire,” the movie that made Alan Ladd a star, my career choice was further solidified. I became familiar with all the terms associated with being an assassin hitman, putting out a contract, gun for hire, liquidator.
I began to read accounts of professional hitmen and sensed that they were noble souls who essentially rid the world of nasty people. Well, that’s what I wanted to do rid the world of nasty people and get paid well to do it.
But how to start? I looked at college curricula but saw nothing about the education of a paid assassin. Where could I learn about this exciting profession?
The following day I went to my third grade class. As it happened, Miss Tracy, our teacher, asked each of us what we wanted to be when we grew up. Most of the girls said they wanted to be nurses and most of the boys wanted to be engineers. Then my turn came.
“Arthur, what would you like to be when you grow up?” she asked innocently.
I was all excited about sharing my career goal with her and my classmates.
“I want to be a hitman,” I said.
There was an awkward pause. Miss Tracy gave me a quizzical look. She thought I might be pulling her leg.
“Arthur, did I hear you correctly. Did you say you want to be a hitman?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said proudly. “I want to rid the world of nasty people and make it a safer place. I want to go to a college that trains people on how to be a hitman.”
I began to hear smirks and giggles from around the room. I couldn’t imagine what was funny about what I said.
“Arthur, are you serious or are you just trying to be funny?” Miss Tracy asked.
“No, Miss Tracy, I saw a movie last week where a hitman did some good deeds. I want to do good deeds also,” I responded.
There was a rising crescendo of smirks and giggles. It had reached a painful decibel level.
“Arthur, do you know what a hit man does for a living? He murders people. Is that really what you want to do when you grow up?”
I began to stutter. I didn’t know why Miss Tracy and the class didn’t understand how noble being a hitman was.
“But, Miss Tracy. I only want to do good in the world. Being a hitman is like being a doctor. You take care of people.”
The class was going wild. Some of the boys started making shooting sounds and pointing their forefingers and thumbs at the girls.
“Stop that, class,” Miss Tracy shouted. “Arthur is being serious. He may be a bit misinformed but his intentions are in the right place. Arthur, please see me after class.”
I didn’t know why the class was making fun of me and why Miss Tracy wanted to see me after class. But I was resigned to becoming a hitman. No one and I mean no one could make me change my mind.
Art Stevens is a long-time columnist for The Islander. His tongue-in-cheek humor is always offered with a smile.