It's All True

On one of those old black-and-whites with Orson "Spendthrift" Welles on board, and many memos lying ignored, the studio's money men took fright. They brought in Stephen "hard man" Fier to get the budget back in line. If Orson begged a ball of twine, he found his invoice scrutineered. There's no incentive quite like hate. One night, when craftsmen downed their tools And wraps were safely wrapped in spools the great director lingered late, took brush and paint pot from the shelf and daubed across one vast white wall, "We've nothing here to fear at all - except, that is, for Fier himself." We never hear our own death knells. Next day, the words were rubbed out, all. Someone, in letters six feet tall, had put, "All's Well that Ends Welles".