Voyeur Page #9

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against the book,

- because they wanna make it worse.

- They wanna demonize me?

They wanna exploit you

'cause you're a hot subject.

You're new.

You've just been on the Internet.

You've been on the goddamn New Yorker.

You're a hot subject.

- I get it.

- Okay.

You talk to the camera. I wanna sit here.

And get a little fresh air?

I could stay out here an hour.

Yeah, its real private,

and that's what I like.

I am used to private spaces.

Places that nobody can see me

and I can see them.

Great.

I'm confident I did enough work.

I spent enough time.

I spent more than 25 years

waiting to take him out of his dark attic.

But I waited and waited

and waited patiently,

till I could bring his story and him

as a person into the public eye.

It's a good story.

And I'll keep in touch with him

until we're both dead.

It's beautiful.

Okay.

Researchers like you to think

that they're professional at all times,

and detached and in control,

that it's all in the name of work,

but it isn't true.

I think anyone who courts

this kind of precarious existence,

or delves into something that's rather,

maybe pioneering...

I like to think of what I did

as a pioneering work.

But you're risking at all times.

How does it look?

It fits you well.

I think it's perfect.

I know there's a lot of points

in your book, but what's the point here?

You've done this exhaustive research.

What's in it for us?

Give us some free advice

after all this research.

Re-identify myself as a reporter.

I'm not an advocate.

I'm a reporter who went out in the field

and told you what America's like.

People in the show don't like it.

Some people recognize it as truthful.

Everybody wants to write

the great American novel.

Why the f*** the great American novel?

I want to do something that no one wants

to think is great, but I think is great.

I don't agree with your methods,

and I thought for sure when I came here,

I thought you were just a dirty old man.

But you're just a reporter

trying to put your point across.

That's the nicest thing

you could say about me.

I never know

how my work is gonna be received.

I've had a lot of bad reviews.

This voyeur is full of high dreams.

He thinks he's gonna be the star,

and it's gonna be read around the world.

I don't know what's gonna happen.

He doesn't know what's gonna happen.

We'll see.

What the f*** are we doing here?

How...

I had nothing but bad news

in the last three days.

The biggest mistake I made...

was talking to a Washington Post reporter

today named...

- Paul Farhi.

- Paul Farhi.

I'm so tired I can't remember my own name.

I received this e-mail from Farhi.

He said, "I'd like to talk to you."

There's some discrepancies

I'd like to discuss.

I have information that invalidates

much of what you wrote,

"and questions your reputation

as a reporter."

Wow.

In 1980,

the voyeur sold the motel to somebody,

- a friend of his, a man named...

- Earl.

- Earl Ballard.

- Earl Ballard.

A name I'd never heard of.

How could I have quoted the voyeur

from his journal

when for six years

he didn't even own the goddamn motel?

And I'm speechless, infuriated,

frustrated, helpless.

I'm unable to defend myself,

because the Washington Post reporter

is presenting to me factual information

verified by him

and a matter of public record.

I felt... I'm down the tubes.

The book is down the tubes.

So I said that my book is down the toilet.

Now I have demoted the f***ing book

into the toilet.

That's the end of it.

This story in the Washington Post

is all over the f***ing world.

This is the end.

This is the end of me.

I was lied to. I was interviewing a liar.

I never thought of Gerald as...

I wasn't talking to Walter Cronkite, okay?

I'm talking to this crazy guy.

I thought I knew a little bit,

but I didn't know him at all,

because I was taken in

on a long ride here into oblivion

as far as my career and reputation goes.

Pick that up

and say to call us back, please.

I called up Gerald Foos.

I said, "What the hell is going on here?"

I was f***ing angry.

I had the book already published.

I'm screaming at the voyeur,

"My reputation is shot."

Yours is, too.

Our f***ing careers are over.

We are done, sweetheart.

This is where I've been hoodwinked,

or seduced by you in my quest

for an honest and good story.

It is a hell of a good story.

But now I have to defend it

as not fiction.

And I didn't think I was writing fiction.

"And you've made me

look like a fake artist."

I thought

that Earl Ballard was dead.

He never really amounted to much

in the story,

so I thought I'd just leave it dead.

But the reverse was true, so...

Earl and I observed together.

Purchase of the Manor House,

that was his whole motivation.

My deal with him

was just a friend to another friend.

Or a voyeur to a voyeur.

After I sold the motel to him,

he allowed me to come and go as I please.

Almost every night.

But now he don't want nobody to know

he was a voyeur.

It's his word against mine.

And so, the book...

Sounds like

God is tearing it apart.

It's real dreary around here.

It's all cloudy,

and it just feels about the way I feel.

Somehow I wish that I could go

someplace and hide.

Gay told me, he said, "You know,

you and I are gonna die as old men",

and we're gonna be known as liars."

I let everybody down. Gay especially.

He's such a proud, upstanding man,

and I got in his life and I ruined it.

It's too late. The damage is done.

That killed it. That book is dead.

That book is really dead.

How many they got?

Right there. One?

- And they sold three?

- Three total.

Oh, God. That just...

That book is really hid there.

Nobody's gonna see it.

- Nobody's gonna see it.

- Let's see.

I thought that

the metropolitan area of New York

would sell five million copies.

What reviews?

- Do you want me to show you?

- I'd like to see a couple.

This was in the New York Times.

This was in Vulture.

"Controversial." I don't like that.

Hmm.

They're sayin' everything

I've written in here is a lie.

They're sayin' Gay knows it.

Who is this jerk, this Jack Shafer jerk?

This is the worst hatchet job

I've ever seen in my life.

Can I see that one, Anita?

Well, if anything does it, this will

surely ought to fix it up really good.

Nothing good in it, not one thing.

I can see why he hasn't called me,

'cause he took all this stuff to heart.

I've only gone through the first page

of this, and it's a nightmare.

I say pull the book off the shelf

and forget.

Here.

We knew something was going on.

You didn't want to tell us.

He's been criticized

'cause he didn't turn me in.

That's what it says here.

"Talese is as guilty as this guy."

"Coward."

Talese said, "So I have again

to answer for myself."

But the real problem is ahead."

Looks like there's a definite split

between Gay and myself.

There's just no way it can ever be healed.

And I'll blame him and he'll blame me,

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