Coincidence? Or Fate? You Decide.

             Tim Mygatt and I were chatting at the Mt. Kisco Country Club bar. Part of the joy of a high school reunion is picking up where you left off twenty five, fifty years ago. I said I’d heard he was doing some work on his family genealogy. Tim said, yeah, the first Mygatt landed in Boston in 1633.

             "On the Griffin?" I asked.

The Griffin

             "How did you know?" he said.

              My ancestor, Thomas Judd may have came over on the Griffin. I have no proof, not even a scrap of evidence. I do know that Thomas Judd came from Tunbridge Wells in Kent, England to Boston in 1633. He bought four acres where now Harvard stands and followed Rev. Thomas Hooker inland to the banks of the Connecticut river. So did Joseph Mygett.  Mygett, Judd, Hooker and others founded Hartford, Ct.

    

            And later, Farmington, Ct.  So Thomas Judd was a follower of Thomas Hooker and Hooker was on the Griffin. So maybe, just maybe, Thomas Judd was on the Griffin.  His name is not on the surviving scraps of the original manifest of the Griffin. So maybe not. But it’s fun to think about.

Rev. Thomas Hooker

 Think of King Charles soldiers, their red and yellow tights muddied from the ride down from Kent, plumed helmets drooping in the rain, running onto the dock at Plymouth, England in 1633 and waving their pike staffs at the dot on the horizon, the Griffin.

            The Griffin was one of the several dozen ships that transported nearly 30,000 English men and women and horses and cattle in the great migration from England to the new world from 1630 until 1649 when King Charles was beheaded by Cromwell.

             On board the Griffin, Joseph and Ann Mygett; Tim Mygatt’s great great etc. etc. etc. grandparents were sailing away from the threat of jail and loss of all their property. They were hunted as enemies of the crown for the treason of not worshiping God in the Church of England but rather in their own home and in humble places like barns and simple wood churches. Good Congregationalists, (Congregationalism is more easily identified as a movement than a single denomination, given its distinguishing commitment to the complete autonomy of the local congregation) they saw the family as the center of the church, not the King, and certainly not Rome. So they were fleeing but they were also headed for the New World. To start a new life in a wilderness, and shape a government to serve the people.

           As was, I think, Thomas Judd. And I wonder if Joseph Mygett and Thomas Judd stood at the rail of that ship, nearly 375 years ago, watching the shores of the old world drift over the horizon. And a month later saw the New World rise up before them. And I wonder if they were friends, and if their wives got along. And if they stayed friends as their later generations moved to Farmington, to New Milford, CT. and New Preston, CT. as Mygatts, and to Kent, CT, and Roxbury, CT. as Judds.

The beautiful girls of Horace Greeley High have a slumber party. Anne, "same beautiful girl" has her finger in her mouth lower left.  Next to her Bette Pillar would later be Miss New York City. Starting from the top left they are: Dorinda, Sue, Linda, Barbie, Patty, Abby, Nona, Betty Ann, Susie, Carol, Anne, and Bette.

               And if they had any idea that over 300 years in the future, that their great, great, great. etc. etc. etc grandsons, would fall in love, one after the other, with the same beautiful girl.  (above pic was stolen from our class website)

               One final footnote: Tim and Anne got married and still are.

Hollywood calls again. You Pick Up The Phone. The Second Great Law of Hollywood Part 2

A month later the phone rings again.  This time from the Chelsea home of  Bigtime Financial Titan.

"Hello Bob?  Bigtime Financial Titan here.  Very good to talk to you, Bob.  Forgive me if I get straight to the point.  May I call you Bob?  Thank you Bob.  Bob, I just came back from the Grand Prix at Silverstone and, Bob, I was very impressed, Bob.  And Bob, I asked around for the best writer in Formula One and I was given your name.  Well I've read your book, Bob, and I just have one question for you.  How'd you like to make a movie of your book, Bob?

    "Depends, Bigtime" you say because you have learned hold back on the leap in until you know if it is a flaming pit or a black hole.

    "Call me Big.  Why don't you come down to my little place in Chelsea tomorrow, say at eleven Bob and we'll discuss it.  Is that all right Bob?  It won't take too long because I have a meeting with Rupert at two.  I do a lot of business with Mr. Murdoch.  See you at eleven then, Bob."

    You walk in his front door into a large open and airy room.  Tall palms rise from porcelain pots up to the two story high skylight and eight heads sitting around a conference table all turn to face you and they all say, "it's going to be a great movie, Bob"  There’s a famous ex-Formula One racing driver, a former Formula One team owner, a couple of assistant producers, a very glamorous lady who watches you like a hawk.  After small talk about big movies, a matched pair of limousines pull up to his front door and drive our party of ten sixty yards to lunch at a chic restaurant on The Kings Road.  We sit down at a round table.  Our host does not sit down but leans over the table, his hands on the back of my chair like a benevolent father.  And he says, "sorry I can't join you for lunch.  I've got a meeting with Murdoch. But after my meeting with Rupert I am going to draw up a company with you all on the board of directors to make this movie. Have a good lunch."

And you never ever see or hear from him again.

Which is the second great Law of Hollywood.  The first Law is from the great screenwriter William Goldman (who wrote Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Harper, All The President's Men, etc. etc.)  It goes:  Nobody ever knows anything.
 
The second great Law of Hollywood, if you haven't heard it before, comes from me and it goes: No answer means no.  And nobody ever knows why.

So six months later the phone rings again and a producer from New York has the money together, the director is hot to do it, wants you to write the screenplay and he wants to go straight into production as soon as he talks to your agent. Is that OK with you?

"Sure," you say.  "Yes, absolutely."

He never calls your agent. And you never ever hear from him again and you never know why.


(to be continued)