Hansen and the rest of his production team must always remain loose limbed. Twenty years later and they still laugh at the thought of him being barrowed home with a brain full of booze. Imagine how an episode of flagrant public drunkenness in the life of such a man might sear itself into the memories of those who witnessed it. He is a man so proper, so predictable, that when he occasionally dons a colored shirt, the modest color jolts the eyes of his friends, who are unaccustomed to seeing him in anything other than solid white. The reason people remember this story and still tell it twenty years on is that it is so remarkably uncharacteristic of the man inside. They delivered him to his home, legs and arms flopping out to the sides like the limbs of an upended turtle. And finally: The host and another friend poured the shambling young district attorney into, yes, a wheelbarrow. A couple drinks and then a few and then who knows how many until he was well and truly lit, until he was finally a staggering mess, until he was finally so far gone that the prospect of walking home, never mind driving, was an Everest summit attempt. The man inside stood near the keyboard, watching. The party's host had hired a local kid named Eric Bishop to provide entertainment, and Bishopwho would eventually change his name to Jamie Foxx and move west - was playing old R&B covers, pounding them out on a borrowed piano. At the time of the party, not much more than a decade out of law school and still in his thirties, he was already district attorney of his home county. His high school class, of which he was president, had voted him most likely to succeed, and he had done so. Anybody compiling a list of local luminaries back then might have placed the name of the man inside at or near the top. The man inside was there, as were many of his friends, which meant that the attendees were a hodgepodge of the most notable lawyers and doctors and businessmen in Terrell, Texas. The story begins more than two decades ago, at a party in another house not far from this one. While the shot of this particular wheelbarrow is superfluous to the television program being filmed here today and will be edited out along with most of the rest of this raw footage, there happens to be a story about the man inside the house in which a wheelbarrow plays a much more prominent role. A green wheelbarrow leaning belly-exposed against a red wall.
The cameraman zooms in past the cop to the patio area beyond, to a lattice of firewood and the blur of something green. The screen fills almost entirely with the bush, and then the view pans left from the bush to the cop, who is big and bald and has three upside-down blue V's-sergeant stripes-on the sleeve of his shirt.
After a few minutes of this, the cameraman starts playing with the composition. At first the camera is static and the shot is simple: the cop, the gateway, vertical red fence planks, a right foreground portion of green bush. Click here for more on this story, and here for an update.Ī cop guards the open gateway that leads from the house's driveway to the side yard, in case the man inside attempts to flee. You can read every story every published at Esquire Classic. The story originally ran in the September 2007 issue of Esquire.
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