Before Monday, Erik Hollander, Chuck Gramling and Mark Burton had never stepped foot on Martha’s Vineyard, but they knew parts of the Island very well.
The trio of college-age Floridians recognized the storefronts of Edgartown, the Chappaquiddick ferry landing and the lighthouse off Starbuck’s Neck.
Upon arrival they scanned the Vineyard phone book looking for familiar names.
The came on a pilgrimage.
They came to visit the New England resort village of Amity; the birthplace and home territory of the Academy Award-winning movie Jaws.
It was 13 years ago that the Vineyard’s place in Hollywood history was assured, and the career of filmmaker Steven Spielberg established, with the making of a movie Jaws.
The best-selling novel turned blockbuster movie is just a memory in the minds of those who were around when it came out. Thirteen years and three Jaws sequels after the original Universal Studios Inc. Film was released and broke all previous box office records (amounting to $130 million in ticket sales through 1987), most agree it is finally safe to go back into the water.
It was the movie Jaws which brought downtown Edgartown, State Beach and the Vineyard’s breathtaking South Shore to audiences nationwide for the first time.
But Island newcomers be warned -- Amity Island isn’t any more realistic than the great white shark that terrorized it.
While Washington has been putting on a continuing spring and summer show, Martha’s Vineyard has had one of its own, and the show is Jaws. Not only has just about every resident been fascinated by what is going on, but nearly half the population has been actively involved.
Therefore, when the Monday night lectures for the benefit of the Old Sculpin Gallery and the Martha’s Vineyard Art Association had a program this week on Jaws, it was a howling success. (The howling was done, unfortunately, bu all those who just couldn’t get in).
This freshly-killed brown shark — a man-eater — was laid out on the steps of Universal Studios’ Edgartown office sometime before dawn Friday. Trickles of blood oozed from the snout and belly of the six-foot long fish onto the steps of the Christine Pease House, but several movie workers simply stepped casually over the mess as they went to work, muttering about pranksters.
Mrs. Robert W. Nevin said it was the second such gift the film company received from the community. The first shark, which was also dumped on the steps, was only three feet long.
“We’ll go again,” said the assistant director, Tom Joyner, and into the valley of death waded The 400 with cameras to the right of them, and cameras to the left of them.
The water was cold, cold, cold, and what sunshine there was was most uncooperative. It was Sunday, the last day of June, and really not an ideal day to spend (all of it, every last bit of it) on the beach. The leftover northeast winds were still onshore and so were about 600 people.
The rumors about Jaws suddenly turned ugly three weeks ago. There were no more jokes about sharks being released of the Vineyard — the word was that Jaws was in trouble, even in danger of shutting down, because of horrendous cost overruns. All the whining about the weather from the movie-makers seemed more serious as wild stories about drastic measures circulated. The rest of the film would be shot in Hollywood, some said. A new austerity program might move the crew from the Kelly House to more modest accommodations, others suggested, perhaps to Cranberry Acres campground.
Edgartown at any price is a bargain compared to friendly Amity. The white wooden houses of the Vineyard are kept just as neatly as those of Jaws’ picturesque resort; the waters are no less beautiful around the Island; even the inhabitants are similar. But somehow Richard D. Zanuck and David Brown, the producers of Jaws, are running through about $30,000 a day in their imaginary town, rain or shine, film or no film. Last week they paused in their spree to explain that they didn’t even consider themselves big spenders.
The first day on the set we were extras. On the second day we were promoted to atmosphere people. The money is the same and the duties hardly ever vary: stand and wait; work and wait; relax and wait.
Bill O’Gorman soon learned the facts of life. “Ready for shooting in half a minute really means half an hour,” he says, and he is seldom wrong.
The organized madness which has been afloat and ashore continued throughout the week as the plot unfolded in Jaws. There’s a contagiousness to the mood of the opus, and Islanders steadily stopped by to spectate when the filming was on the Norton and Easterbrooks’ dock and peered anxiously seaward when it was not.
