Bell spotted the camera operator at the brewery’s ornate iron gates, cranking at full speed. The camera was flanked by a director with a megaphone and a blazing bank of Cooper-Hewitt lamps. A Pierce-Arrow limousine rolled in front of the gates. A beautiful actress in evening clothes stepped from it into the glare of the Cooper-Hewitts.

Isaac Bell twisted his throttle and kicked the Indian into first gear. Hunkered low over the handlebars, he headed for a long ramp down which motortrucks and horse-drawn beer wagons were exiting the brewery’s second story. Dodging trucks and horses, he leaned into a sharp turn, raced up the ramp, and leaned into another. The Indian’s motor screamed in protest as his wheels left the pavement.

The motorcycle took to the air, flew from the top of the ramp, and soared over the hood of the Pierce-Arrow. Clearing the auto by a whisker, Bell banged down hard on the cobblestones and skidded to a rubber-scorching halt in front of the camera.

When he saw that the startled camera operator had kept his wits about him and continued cranking, Bell extended his gloved hand to the beautiful woman with a courtly bow. The actress took it, covering her surprise, as if assuming Bell was a part of the film no one had told her about.

“What the hell are you doing?” the director yelled.

“Came for a job,” said Isaac Bell, mimicking the tone of a country man trying his luck in the big city.

“Are you crazy?”

“I hear you got a chase coming up in this Bride of the Brewery show you’re taking pictures for.”

“It’s called The Brewer’s Daughter—hey, hold on a minute! Where’d you hear I have a chase scene?”

“Feller in the business told me.”

Among the acquaintances Clyde Lynds had met in the halls was this Imperial director, who had boasted to Clyde he was planning to have the couple elope on a bicycle chased by brewery trucks and wagons spilling barrels.

“Where’s he work?”

“Works for Mr. Griffith.”

The director beamed proudly. “D.W. heard I’m doing a chase scene?”

“That’s what the feller said.”

“Did Mr. Griffith mention anything specific about it?”

“‘If I was filming it, I’d use something more exciting than a bicycle.’”

The director’s face fell. Then he got truculent. “Oh, I get it. You think I need a lunatic on a motorcycle.”

Isaac Bell pointed at the camera. “Look at the pictures that camera just took. Then tell me I’m not the best motorcycle rider in the movies.”