LOST IN THE FOG - The Movie

They Don't Make Guys Like Harry Anymore

2008-12-10T14:34:00.000-08:00

On the surface LOST IN THE FOG is the story of a racehorse; an unlikely champion that went on to distinguish himself as a horse for the ages. However, the story is really more about the horse’s owner, Harry Aleo, and his curious blend of charisma and ill humor.

I can’t really say enough about Harry. From the first moment I met him, I felt a kinship with him. We both grew up in the same neighborhood in San Francisco. In fact, his family store and home in Noe Valley were less than two blocks from the house in which I grew up. We ran the same streets and played in the same parks albeit 50 years removed from one another. I think that made a difference when I first went into his office to introduce myself. He took a shine to me immediately and was infinitely generous since day one. Lost in the Fog’s trainer, Greg Gilchrist, told me one time that I was lucky because Harry either likes you and will do anything for you or he doesn’t like you and he won’t talk to you for a thousand years. Well, I’m definitely one of the lucky ones.

I took on the story in 2005 and it turned into the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. I’m pleased with the final film but, more importantly, I was pleased to get to know Harry. Sadly, Harry’s gone now and by the same fate as his beloved horse. For those who didn’t keep track of the saga of Lost in the Fog, Harry was diagnosed with cancer about fourteen months ago. The doctors knew he had some kind of tumor near his pancreas and that it was malignant but they didn’t know if it had spread anywhere else in his body. The plan was to open him up, get the lay of the land, and cut out the cancer. If they discovered that the cancer had spread, however, the only option would be to close him up and figure out how best to make him comfortable in his final days. When they went in, they found that the cancer was everywhere.

Harry somehow maintained a sense of humor through it all. I used to joke with him and Greg that I needed one of them to die so that I would have a dramatic ending for my film and, true to form, Harry called me when he first got the news that there was a tumor - “Hey John, I think I have an ending for you.” I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that he was so sick and I couldn’t believe that he could joke about it. It felt like I got kicked in the stomach when I heard the news.

Harry soldiered on for several months and finally passed away in June. It was particularly bittersweet for me because the movie was finally seeing the light of day, due to make its premiere at a film festival called CineVegas. Harry had never been to Vegas and was all set to make the trip but as it turned out, come June, he was simply too sick to go. The movie played twice in Vegas and was received very enthusiastically, largely due to Harry’s charisma. I figured I would take off early from the festival in order to get back to SF and spend time with Harry in his last remaining days but the festival programmers told me to stick around. It looked like the movie would be getting an award at the end of the week. I decided to make a calculated gamble and stay through until the awards ceremony. In my mind it was a matter of respect for the festival programmers but I also thought it would be an opportunity to present Harry with one final gift in the form of this award. Sure enough, the film won the Audience Award for Best Documentary and I grabbed the crystal plaque and literally made a run for the airport. I knew time was short. When I got off the plane, I had a message on my cell phone. Harry had died while I was en route.

I have only one regret: I wish that I had met Harry a long time ago. I walked by his storefront on 24th St. every day for years and never made it inside but once his wonderful horse brought us together, Harry made me feel like an old friend. I just wish he hadn’t been so old when I met him.

NEXT TIME: The funny, salty story of Greg Gilchrist.

I Didn't Know I Had A Gambling Problem

2008-11-01T15:21:00.000-07:00

I was never much of a gambler, that is until I hooked on to the story of Lost in the Fog. I had been working as a producer for the CBS affiliate in San Francisco and it was a dream job in many ways. I had the run of the place. I could produce any story I wanted and I was making decent money, but when I met Harry Aleo I ditched it all and laid down the biggest bet of my life.

I grew up and still live in Noe Valley, a quiet neighborhood right in the center of San Francisco. 24th St. serves as the area’s business zone and is home to trendy restaurants, upscale boutiques, and one sore thumb - Twin Peaks Properties. Harry Aleo’s dusty old real estate office is a time capsule. It’s been there since 1947 and it looks like it. It’s Harry’s bastion, his stand against the changing times and, in his own words, an “island of traditional values in a sea of left-wing loonie liberals.”

I walked by Harry’s office every day for years and every now and then I would stop at his storefront windows to examine his photos of Ronald Reagan and Richard Nixon. I had never dared to speak with Harry in person but he was always in the back of my mind as a potential subject for the t.v. show on which I was working. In my eyes, though, there wasn’t enough of a payoff. It needed to be about more than just a guy with political slogans in his windows. It needed a twist, a personal angle, to justify doing a piece.

In February of 2005 I was reading the San Francisco Chronicle’s Sporting Green when I came across the story of a local racehorse named Lost in the Fog who was being trained over at Golden Gate Fields. The bay area racing scene was buzzing about this promising young colt who was one of the early favorites for the Kentucky Derby. He was the talk of racing and a source of pride for what is considered a minor league track. The story detailed the horse’s precocious speed, spoke of his blue collar trainer, Greg Gilchrist, and described in great detail Lost in the Fog’s owner; a cantankerous old San Franciscan who taunted the local liberals with conservative paraphernalia out of his 24th St. real estate office. It was my guy.

I went in to Harry’s office that day and we hit it off right away. We had both grown up in Noe Valley and, despite the facade, Harry turned out to be a very warm and funny guy. Harry and his story was supposed to be a little three minute piece for my show but as I got to know Harry, his trainer Greg, and Lost in the Fog, it turned into much more. Before I knew it I had quit my job and was following the story all over the country, waiting for the horse to finally lose. Instead, he just kept winning and winning and eventually became horse racing’s biggest story of the year. I told myself I would just let it ride until I found myself an ending. Well, I got my ending but it wasn’t one that I would have ever anticipated. Two years after walking into Harry’s dusty office, I’m out a job and a fair amount of money but I made a new 87 year-old friend and found the story of a lifetime.

Next Time: End of the Line for Harry

Why Would Anybody Make a Movie?

2008-10-31T13:01:00.000-07:00

It's a pertinent question considering how hard, expensive and otherwise frustrating it can be to make a film. I guess the reason I made LOST IN THE FOG is that I had been a producer at CBS for several years and I just got sick of working for a show that was on every night. Don't get me wrong, it was a great job. It was fun, interesting, challenging, and had great perks but it was a grind. Any daily show is. I still wanted to tell stories somehow, so when LOST IN THE FOG presented itself, I jumped at the chance.

They say the American Dream is owning a home. I would argue that the American Dream is being your own boss and, for better or worse, independent filmmaking offers that. But working for yourself is no picnic. As it turns out, LOST IN THE FOG was the hardest job I ever had. I worked every day and many nights for close to three years. That said, it's been the most rewarding thing I've ever done and the most humbling.

Taking on any story - particularly one that turned out to be as epic as LOST IN THE FOG - is daunting. Can you get access to interesting, charismatic people? Will they open up? Will there be a payoff? Will anybody want to see it? In addition to the difficulties of making a film, getting it noticed might be even harder. It all starts with the festivals and getting into a major festival is a crapshoot at best. Aside from festivals, getting theatrical distribution is even more unlikely. As a first-time filmmaker, I've actually had decent luck with festivals but I've also received a mind-numbing number of rejections from places both big and small. The big ones - Sundance, Tribeca, etc. - are longshots. You know that going in but it's the small ones that are the confidence killers. When even seemingly rinky dink festivals turn you down, you really start to question yourself. The problem is there's nowhere to hide. When you make something on your own like this, there's nobody to blame but yourself. Ultimately, though, it's probably good to be humbled on occasion.

Next time: I Didn't Know I Had A Gambling Problem