E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS” - Part VIII CONCLUSION – Epilogue

 

That’s what we had to splash across the posters outside the theater announcing the release of Lost Films of Roscoe Fatty Arbuckle.

And from what I’ve been told already, we’re sold out for the next three nights as well.

The SOLD-OUT part caused quite the uproar, but since I had a ‘in’ with the owner, I’ve been able to assure everyone that we’re adding as many more runs as the public demands. And each showing will involve more of the red-carpet treatment.

What exactly is the red-carpet treatment you ask? 

Well, it involves a number of celebrities and officials in attendance (which will vary depending upon the individuals’ availability, as well as other important folk who had not been able to attend the opening night festivities), along with the red carpet. I’ve also hired a number of actors and actresses from the local and neighboring theaters, as well as students from the high school drama departments, to show up in full costume and make-up as stars from the past to help add to the atmosphere. Those not walking the red carpet will be in the ‘crowd’ screaming, cheering, and asking for autographs. And in fairness, we’re rotating members of the “crowd” with the red-carpet walkers so everyone gets their chance to get the ‘star’ treatment.

Mind you, ‘the crowd’ will be mixed in with those in the actual crowd of news media, and onlookers who show up. We just want to make sure there would be enough folks on hand to make things seem more authentic. Not that we really needed our actors/actresses, quite a real crowd showed up and from what I’ve been told, they’ll be showing up again and again.

From what everyone has been telling me, the look-alike celebrities are a huge hit alongside the important guests, who had a ball mingling with Hollywood’s stars of yester-year. Who knows, maybe a few new stars may be being discovered, or at least given a chance to make their own names known? I can only hope.

Lisa, Marisa, Teddy and a few of their friends are certainly becoming better known. As I had promised Roscoe, I decided to showcase some of the talents I’d learned over the decades from him. Tonight, we recreated a scene from Roscoe’s “The Cook”, which involved perfect timing as I (as the Cook) tossed various items across the stage to Teddy the waiter as he was coming into the kitchen. This in turned into a dance number. We also recreated several other scenes from some of Roscoe's other movies we were showing tonight. And everybody was right on cue. 

This was mostly thanks to Lisa. Roscoe had shown up several time during rehearsal to help give her advice and instructions on how to help the others get their timing down just right. But even with his guidance, more than a few plates, cups, and other breakables (although we started out with plastic ones) met unfortunate ends during those rehearsals. 

And because I’m such a swell guy, I did permit people to film and record our routines. Why? Because having our antics shown all over the internet is going help build interest in this wonderful crew of talented young people. Who knows? Maybe it will lead to some radio, television, commercials, or streaming service projects for some of them down the road.

In the meantime, I already have a few Keystone Cop routines in mind for Teddy and the rest of this little band of actors. After all, I want to do some more silent film festivals in the near future. 

But what I’ve enjoyed most was seeing more of Roscoe, and knowing it was really him. For so long, one of my greatest regrets in having such a long life was knowing I’d have to say goodbye to so many wonderful people I came to know and love. Of course, new people keep entering my life, but it’s still very having to eventually have to let go of the ones you’ve already known and loved for so long.

I’ve not had the courage to ask Roscoe anything about the afterlife. But just knowing one does exist is reassuring. And even more importantly, knowing that 'some' of my older friends from long ago will show up every now and then to spend some more time with me, makes what I assume (based on my already extremely long life) my many years ahead a little less scary.

- THE END

We hoped you enjoyed this not-so-short tale about Nathan and company. We've wanted to do a story like this that demonstrates how in spite of his already long existence and research, there's still so much our hero does not know about his condition. And we're looking forward to exploring and finding out more of what those possibilities are, with all of you.

In the meantime, more re-runs of older past stories will appear here for a while. Allan has a new novel (which does not involve Nathan or the Para-Earths) to release in the next two months. 

Also, we are hoping to release a new anthology titled "The Vampyre Blogs - Two For the Road" coming later this year. At the moment we're aiming for a late September/early October release to coincide with the Halloween season.  After all, what better time of year to release stories about a vampyre and his friends? 

As always we thank you for coming and reading our tales, and supporting our efforts. Please remember to share this site and tell others about the Vampyre Blogs and the Para-Earth book series. We have much more coming and are looking forward to entertaining you with many more stories and adventures.

Take care and happy reading everyone!

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS” - Part VII

 

In that same moment, Roscoe turns to me and says, “I’d be honored if you would. But with one condition!” He then points to the cannisters still in my hands, “Start with that one!”

I look up at him and ask, “Why this one?”

“Hey, I went to a lot of trouble to finish that one,” he explains, “And your time to shine has been way overdue, pal.”

“No one’s going to see me,” I point out, “That’s why we had to scrap the whole idea of making more movies together, remember?”

“Yeah, but today’s technology can capture your image,” he grins back, “And I know you’ve already made a couple of appearances in those Hallmark and Lifetime adaptations of your work. Don’t be afraid to do some more. Show ‘em what me, Al, Mae, the Marx Brothers and the rest I taught you! And have a blast, while you’re doing it! Remember. I’ll be in the audience cheering you on with Lisa, Otto and the rest of that big old extended family you got.”

Looking at that big, huge smile on his face, along with Lisa beaming at me, there’s no way I can say no. So, I don’t.

“All right,” I concede. “But I have to know one thing. HOW, can you be here? You don’t have any unfinished business, do you? I mean if you do, I’ll do everything…” but he’s already shaking his head.

“It’s nothing like that,” he chuckles, “You just don’t know your own strength.”

Once again, I find myself shaking my head. “How do you mean?”

“Do you remember how you had to put the bite on me that one time to save my life when those thugs tried to burn down the theater with everyone in it?”

“All too well,” I sigh. That had been the night he had learned the truth about me and my condition. He’d been seriously hurt and wasn’t going to last long enough for the ambulance to arrive and take him to the hospital, so I’d done to him what I had once done to Richard and a number of others. I’d bitten him and put a bit of myself into him in the process, using my powers and will to keep him alive. This also meant a special mental and emotional bond had been formed between us, one that always allowed me to know if that person was in danger or needed me in some other way. It was a bond that would only be severed when that person passed on. Or so I had always thought.

I looked up at Roscoe who was smiling fondly at me, “News flash! That bond of friendship, doesn’t always end at the grave.”

After several seconds of stunned silence, I breathed the words, “Thank God!” and meant every word.

I could hear Brian starting to make his way back towards us, so I said quickly. “But it only works with the people…”

“You gave a bit of yourself to,” my old friend finishes for me. “The rest are exactly what you thought. Made up from your memories of them. But me and a few others will always be here for you.”

“Thank you,” I reply and give him a huge hug, just before Brian rejoins us.

“I cannot believe you’ve had all these films restored and transferred, without telling me!” my godson exclaims, as he comes over to me. “People have been scouring the world for a complete copy or at least pieces of some of these films, for decades. You have to share these with the world! Do you realize the number of archivists, celebrities, and other important figures who’d come pounding at your door get just a glimpse of some of these?”

To be honest, I’d never really thought about that before. Such an event would certainly bring a lot of people to Pointer. They would need places to stay, eat, and shop, during their visit. And with Pointer’s parks, forests and historic sites, there’d plenty of other things for our visitors to explore.

Such an event could really revitalize the town. I mean I’ve done what I could to improve the community with donations and other events, but this could really put us back on the map.

But simply showing the films, didn’t feel like enough to me. I wanted to give people something more, something special and really memorable…

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Roscoe and Lisa. He’s teaching her a few of his dance moves from one of his more famous films, “The Cook”. And that gives me an idea…

BONUS MATERIAL: Clip from Roscoe Fatty Arbuckle's Silent Film "The Cook"

Fatty Arbuckle, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

TO BE CONCLUDED...

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS” - Part VI

 

For a second, my legs feel like they’re about to give out, but I manage to keep them from buckling with a supreme effort.

One of my dearest friends, who had died seven decades earlier, is actually standing right in front of me. But is it the first time? Was it him on any of those other occasions? And if it was, how?

But before I can begin to find my tongue, Brian comes bounding over to us saying, “Is that true, Nathan? You were at that party?”

“Oh yeah,” I mutter, “And before you ask, no it was nothing like what Virginia’s friend Bambina Maude Delmont told people, or what Randolph Hearst put in his papers.”

As those words leave my lips, a part of me wishes once again that had taken witness stand and testified back in 1922.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” Roscoe says stepping in front of Brian to face me. “Remember, the trial took place during the daytime, and those lawyers would’ve kept you on the stand for hours. No amount of blood would’ve kept you going for that long. Plus, all those reporters would’ve gotten shots of you for the front page, only to find you didn’t appear in them. No, sir! There was no way I was going to let you risk everything for me. But, knowing if it came down to it you would have, always meant a lot to me.”

I smile. His words mean a lot to me. Especially, since I now know it’s really him and not a construct from my mind. But again, I have to wonder, has this always been the case? And what about the others I’ve encountered over time? Were they ghosts as well? Have I been completely wrong about myself and my abilities all this time?

“No,” Roscoe assures me, putting a hand that feels very warm and real on my shoulder. “Only a few of us are actual ghosts. The rest are being brought back from your memories.”

Throughout this silent exchange, Brian has been wrapped up in a discussion with his daughter about my revelation of having been at the party with Virginia and Roscoe. The two of them have already covered the case and why I hadn’t testified, with Lisa supplying some of the details she had overheard Roscoe pointing out to me.

As I listen, I hear Brian piecing together the rest of the story from there. Which is not surprising to me, since he’s always been a guy who knows his onions.

Great, all this time going down memory lane has me thinking in slang terms from the 1920’s. Next thing you know I’ll start going on about Lisa’s legs, calling them gams.

“She got nice ones?” Roscoe asks, having apparently heard my thoughts.

“Oh yeah,” I mouth back, keeping an eye on Brian to make sure he doesn’t see me. “And plenty of moxie.”

“Kind of like another young lady, you were rather fond of,” Roscoe observes, then adds, “Lisa’s built a lot like her too. Especially in the upper department.”

Mentally, I shake my head, as I try not to blush.

Mae West had been the first woman I fell in love with after my wife Madeleine had passed away in the 1890’s. I first met Baby Mae, that was her stage name back in 1907, when she was working vaudeville in Ohio. The name was appropriate at the time since she was only 14 at the time, and very petite in height. In fact, even as an adult, Mae was only 5 feet tall.

We met again in 1911 in New York and by then she was using Mae West as her moniker. Our acquaintance started out as a passing one, but after an incident in a back alley, it became something much deeper and passionate. God what an amazing woman.

No sooner does that thought pass through my mind, when I find myself glancing over at Lisa.

“I think I know where your mind has gone,” Roscoe teases, “Now if only you’d allow the rest of you to go join it.”

I quietly shush him, but I know he’s right. Lisa does have a lot of the same qualities Mae had. But she’s also very much her own person. Which makes her even more special, in my eyes and my heart. However, she’s my godchild, one of a great many. One who also has a mind of her own, I remind myself thinking back to our walk over here from the theater.

But now is not the time. Roscoe’s revelation of his existence still has me taking a few mental steps backwards. I swear every time I think I’ve figured out all there is to know about my condition, the more I find out there’s still so much more to learn. First Isabella, now this.

Just then Lisa rejoins us. Looking up I see no sign of her father. “Where’s…?” I begin, but she cuts in with, “He’s going through the filing cabinets to see what else you have stashed away down here.”

“Well, all he’s going to find in there are copies of the films I’ve already had restored and transferred for use on modern projection equipment,” I tell her, then ask. “I take it, you know who’s with us down here.”

“Duh,” she replies with a roll of her eyes, “I am psychic remember? Plus, I have met and spoken with ghosts before.”

I nod my head. She’s right of course. I’d been on the scene for several of those spectral encounters, two of which had nearly ended with Lisa nearly ended with her becoming part of the next world. Just the thought of that happening to her, still makes me shudder.

Meanwhile, Lisa is introducing herself to Roscoe who gives her a dignified bow, which he promptly converts into a bashful comedy routine from one of his silent movies.

I can’t help but smile. It’s obvious the two of them are hitting it off famously. Which brings me back to an idea I'd had about what to run on the big screen for my theater’s opening night.

TO BE CONTINUED...

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS” - Part V

             But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, I make a face at my old friend, while Lisa and Brian finally find their words and begin peppering me with all kinds of questions. Mostly they want to know why I never said anything about a movie career.

Sighing, I head over to them and explain, “My ‘movie career’ as you both call it, was rather short-lived. What you have in your hands was supposed to be my screen test.”

“Screen test?” Lisa repeats and holds up the cannisters in her hands. “This is a two-reeler. That’s not a screen test, that would be full-length comedy feature back in 1912.”

“Two-reels?” I barely manage to get the words out, as my mind races across the decades. Had we really shot that much footage? Obviously, we must have since Lisa’s holding the proof in her hands. But how is that possible?

As the memories of that day unfold in my head, I realize we must have filmed a lot more than I thought we had. Which makes sense, really. Until that day, I’d never stepped on a movie set. So I had no idea what to expect. Admittedly, all the sets, props, and costumes, were much like what I was used to seeing at the theaters, but this was a very different kind of ‘stage’. It was more 3-dimensional and had no place for an audience to sit. Instead, there were cameras and lighting that was different than what I was used to in the theaters I’d worked. In short, the whole thing was oddly familiar and very different at the same time.

After I finally caught my breath, and got my bearings, we got down to business. I spent the rest of the day paying attention to everything Roscoe and Al were telling me to do and how to play the scenes. Looking back, I realize now that a lot of the times I thought we were rehearsing, the camera was actually rolling. Plus, we were all having so much fun together it’s no wonder I didn’t realize how much of our antics were being caught on film. as well.

The chemistry between me, Roscoe and Al, had been so good to the few who had been on hand assisting with the filming, were making plans for more films involving the three of us before we had even finished. Upon hearing this, Roscoe, Al and I spent the rest of the night talking and celebrating, as we all looked forward to working together for years to come.

Alas, none of it came to pass.

You see, a few days later, Roscoe called me in to join him, Minta (his wife), their dog Luke, Al St. John and a few others, to show us some of the footage that had been shot. It had just come back from being processed and we were all eager to see how my performance turned out. It turned out to be a rather empty one.

The scene playing before us on the screen that day was one where Luke had grabbed me by the seat of my pants, making me spin wildly trying to dislodge him. But there was no sign of me on the screen. All we saw was Luke, his four paws completely off the ground, spinning round and round in mid-air.

It was then that I learned that ‘silver’ was used in the celluloid film, as well as a mirror inside the camera, which meant neither could ever capture my image.

We didn’t bother looking at the rest of the film. Or at least I didn’t. I was too heartbroken at the time, and so were Roscoe, Minta and Al. Heck, even Luke padded over to me and hopped up into my lap trying to comfort me. He was such a good dog.

After the initial shock had worn off, I spent a few days with my friends before I decided to head back to vaudeville. There, despite Roscoe and Minta’s urgings, I simply went back to being another stage-hand behind the scenes. Eventually, a quartet of brothers (Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Zeppo) took me under their collective wings. In time they taught me how to play a number of musical instruments and further developed my comedic skills and timing. Before I knew what was happening, they had me back on the stage to assist in their escapades. On occasion, I even stood in for each of them at one time or another, when that person couldn’t make the performance. Still, the sting of my failed attempt at becoming a film star never faded.

And even whenever I saw Roscoe, we never talked about the footage, so I simply assumed he’d destroyed it. But of course, he hadn’t.

I only found out it still existed shortly after Roscoe had passed away quietly in his sleep on June 29^th, 1933. After the funeral, Addie (his third wife) had asked to see me and that was when I learned the footage still existed. Why Roscoe had kept the footage all that time, even she didn’t know. However, according to his will, it was to be turned over to me upon his passing along with a few other bits of his estate.

Naturally I took charge of the cannisters and did everything I could to keep them safe. Why? Because the fact that Roscoe hadn’t destroyed them meant something. For whatever reason, he’d held onto that footage, so I felt obligated to preserve them.

In time, when film preservation efforts had reached a good point, I had them fully restored and copied, along with the other celluloid treasures here in my vault. Yet even then I hadn’t been able to bring myself to watch it. The ghosts of what ‘might have been’ has always been just a little too…

“So?” Lisa purrs in my ear just then, making me jump slightly. I was so wrapped up going down memory lane, I hadn’t noticed or even sensed her moving closer to me. “Are you going to tell us what’s on these reels?”

“Roscoe dealing with a ghost, obviously,” I reply casually, while trying to quiet my heart which is suddenly beating in double-time for some reason.

“And who played the ghost?” she persists sweetly.

“I did,” I answer with a bit of false bravado, “And for the record I was quite convincing.” Then add silently to myself, ‘A little too convincing actually.’ Again, I look down at the cannisters once more and frown. It was only supposed to be a screen test. And even if we shot that much footage, why would Roscoe not only save the footage, but give it a title?

“Because I never intended it to be just a screen test, you dope,” Roscoe’s voice murmurs in my other ear, making me jump once more.

I quickly glance to my right to see him resting his chin on my shoulder, while Lisa continues to do the same on my other shoulder. I briefly wonder with of them is the angel and which is the devil. That’s what usually happens in a case like this, right?

Mentally, I ask him, “What do you mean?”

“It was always supposed to be your first film, Nate. Your big break!” he smiles back.

Lisa suddenly inhales, which takes me by surprise. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she had just heard what Roscoe said. But that’s impossible. This version of him has been formed from my memories. There’s no way she could have heard him.

Shaking my head, I decide to focus my attention on the cannisters once more.

Lisa quietly puts a hand on my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Nathan?” she says, with a hint of worry in her tone.

But I barely notice, as a final piece of the puzzle drops into place for me. And without thinking I breathe, “Roscoe… you finished it?”

Stepping in front of me my old friend nods and gives me a huge smile. “Of course! The way you by me throughout all three trials, meant so much to me. But the fact that you were even willing to testify in my third trial in person and tell everyone that you were the one who found Virginia and then I stumbled in…”

“WAIT!” Lisa suddenly gasps and stares at me. “YOU were there at the party the night Virginia Rappe collapsed?”

Instantly, I do a double-take. She heard him? But how? I know she’s psychic and can see and even hear ghosts and…

Suddenly, I turn to back to my old friend whose smile has become even more broad than before as he says, “Boo!”

TO BE CONTINUED...

Merry Christmas Eve...

It's Christmas Eve, so we're taking a quick break in our current story to bring you something different.

In the United Kingdom there is a tradition of telling a ghost or creepy story at this time of the year.

And since according to Ancestry.com based on my DNA sample, I am 49% Irish, plus another 22 % English, I feel it only right to continue this tradition.

So, we're bringing you the audio version of "The Snowman", complete with imagery, providing a picture book experience, much like I did last year with my unabridged presentation of Charles Dicken's "A Christmas Carol".

As many of you will remember, "The Snowman" was written by my wife/co-author Helen for our "The Vampyre Blogs - One Day at a Time" anthology. It was inspired by hearing the song "Frosty the Snowman" one too many times, before deciding to put a bit of a strange unearthly (or Para-Earth-ly) twist on the story...

So without further ado, here is this year's Christmas story offering...

No doubt, you might be wondering about the opening stating the presentation came from the Library of the Obscure. For those wondering about that, you'll be seeing and learning more about the library starting next month, so stay tuned.

In the meantime, have a blessed and safe Christmas and hopefully a very wonderful New Year.

Love,

Allan and Helen

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS” - Part IV

 

Brian’s eyes find mine, and he smiles. “That’s why you were rushing into some of those burning buildings. You were trying to rescue these.”

“To be honest,” I explain, “I didn’t rush into burning buildings for all of them. A number of those I pulled out of garbage bins, or piles of films that were going to be set on fire. In those cases, I replaced the spools I took with extra copies of other movies, or even blank film so no one would notice they were missing.”

“Wait?” Lisa cries and gives me a puzzled look. “People were burning Roscoe’s films? Was it because of the trial?”

I nod.

“But he was declared innocent!” she protests, while a large man with a huge warm smile on his face quietly appears behind her.

I smile inwardly. It’s always good to see my old buddy, Roscoe.

“You are correct, my child,” Brian beams. “However, the verdict of innocence, came at the end of his third trial.” As he speaks, it’s clear that neither he nor Lisa seem to have taken notice of the famous silent film star, who is currently looking over their shoulders to see which films of his they were holding.

As you can already guess, the fact that they can’t see him comes as no surprise to me. After all, I happen to know Roscoe isn’t a ghost. He’s a mental ‘construct’, so to speak, created by my mind and based on our many years of friendship.

For those not aware, I literally remember everything I’ve ever experienced. Heck, I even have memories of being inside my own mother’s womb, if you can believe it.

And among that mountain of memories is every single person I’ve ever met. Some I met only on rare occasions, or even just once in passing. But I do remember them.

Others, like Roscoe (and a host of others I was really close to), I can remember in complete detail. I can recall their personalities, manner of speaking, all their habits, the works. It’s one of the many gifts my Sangui-Sapio companion has granted me.

And every so often, when I feel really lost or am simply missing one of them, that person will appear to me, just like now.

From my point of view, it’s like they’re in the room with me and we interact as if time had never separated us. I guess the best way to explain it is like having a film projector, in your head. And the film is being shown on a screen inside my eyes, complete with sound, so visually and audibly they appear to be in the same room I’m in. And as is the case right now, my old friends can stand or wander around and even react to any living people who also happen to be in the room. This means I also I get to privately enjoy my old friend’s reactions and antics. However, this occasionally winds up with me reacting and saying or doing things in front of my actual guests which leave them more than a little puzzled at times.

As I stated earlier, my existence tends to be a very strange one sometimes.

Anyhow, I presume my ongoing dilemma of what to run on opening night, and Lisa’s discovery of Roscoe’s ‘lost’ films, is what has generated this impromptu visitation from my old friend. Not that I mind. He may have been known mainly for his comic genius, but like Otto, he was always full of keen insights and good advice.

Meanwhile, Brian continues, “You see, my dear, the first two trials ended with hung juries.”

Immediately, Lisa smacks her forehead while saying, “Which means the accusation was hanging over his head for months.”

“And the newspapers, especially those owned by Randolph Hearst, were dragging his name through the mud the whole time,” Brian adds solemnly.

I watch Roscoe pull out a handkerchief and wipe his brow, muttering, “Pal, you don’t know the half of it.”

Quietly, I sympathize with my old friend. Not a lot of people knew what he went through, but I did. I was there for him the whole time, along with Buster, Roscoe’s nephew Al (St. John), plus a number of others. We all stood by him throughout all three trials. From the beginning to the end, when he was finally exonerated. Yet, in spite of that ruling, which was accompanied by a formal apology prepared by the jury and read out loud by the judge, it had already been too late. Roscoe’s reputation had been irreversibly trashed in the eyes of the public and Hollywood.

No sooner does that thought pass through my mind, Lisa cries out, “Hey, here’s one for the Halloween season. Fatty and the Ghost.”

Immediately, her father leans over to peek and exclaims, “I’ve never heard of that one. Maybe, it’s one of the films that never got to the screen because of the trial. That happened to several others he did. Although, as I recall, some of those did get shown overseas.”

Meanwhile, Lisa is shaking her head. “I don’t think so, dad. Look at the date. This was shot back in 1912, almost 10 years before the scandal.”

Roscoe, who has been looking over their shoulders the whole time, suddenly shoots a devilish smile me and says, “Are you going to tell them, or should I?”

I suppress a smile and explain to the other two, “Portions of that film were only ever shown to a select group of individuals. Namely, those who were involved in the making of it.”

Brian raises on eyebrow as he gives me a curious look. “Your tone of voice tells me you were one of those people who got to see it. May one ask how you were involved in the film?”

Pretending to examine my fingernails, I reply nonchalantly, “Oh, I didn’t do much, just co-starred in it.”

The looks of shock, surprise, and disbelief that flashed across both father and daughter’s faces, accompanied by a healthy dose of stammering and head shaking, prompted Roscoe to stand next to me saying, “Boy, what I wouldn’t give to have caught that all on film. These two would’ve been great in one my movies.”

“I taught them everything they know,” I murmur quietly back at him.

“Yeah, right,” he laughs. “You forget, I’ve seen how many times Lisa has run rings around you. She’s made a monkey out of you so many times, you could audition for the next ‘Planet of the Apes’ movie.”

Now, Roscoe left this world back in 1933. So, the fact he is now making references to movies that were made decades after he passed, were one of those little details that helped me figure out long ago that he (and a number of my other acquaintances from across the years) was a construct made up from my memories.

Or at least that’s what I’ve always told myself. Tonight, however, I was about to find out that there are still more things in heaven and earth than I ever dreamed possible.

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS”

Staring at the empty auditorium, I can’t help but marvel at just how well the restoration of the place has turned out. The gilded wall sconces illuminating the art deco walls and the high arched ceiling and its wondrous art, which draws the eye upwards. It really makes a person feel like they somehow stepped back in time. It’s all, just as I remembered it.

Of course, no one here in Pointer would remember just how majestic this old movie palace had been in its heyday back in the early 1900's. Most would remember it from the 1970's, run down and badly faded. It had closed once and for all during the great recession of 1975. It came into my possession in 1977, although I only learned about it two years ago.*

And ever since then I had gone to great efforts to restore the place to its former glory.

Naturally, there had been several ‘complications’ for the crew during the restoration process. For instance, the question of what the original seat covers looked like had become a real issue. You see, over the years, damaged seats had been reupholstered with whatever material was available at that time. So, when the crew began tackling the seats, they quickly discovered that practically no two seats were exactly alike to guide them. And what was visible had faded badly with age.

The same held true for the wallpaper in different locations of the building. Luckily, I knew and was able to help on those fronts. Of course, there was the odd question about how I could be so sure about my choices. After all, there were no colored photos of the place back in the 1910’s and 1920’s, which was the time frame I was aiming for. But I was able to show them descriptions from old handbills, and diary entries from local historians (thank you Brian). Plus, I had done a painting or two of the old theater back in its heyday, which I was able to show the crew (while carefully obscuring the signature of the artist at the same time).

         But now all was ready. The auditorium, the balcony, the crying room, the catwalks, the lighting, the proscenium arch looming tall and majestic over the stage, while a red velvet curtain shielded a huge drop-down screen from view. And behind that screen, a full working stage perfect for live performances, for both theatrical and music, stood ready for action.

Behind and slightly above my head, loomed a mezzanine, with a fully restored crying room off to one side, where parents with fussing infants could enjoy the entertainment without fear of disturbing other patrons. Next to that, hidden behind an ornate wall, stood a fully operational projection room prepped with both the latest in technology, as well as fully restored older projectors, all ready for action.

Outside the auditorium, hallways glistened with art and mirrors, while colorful carpeting beckoned patrons to explore the premises. Beyond that stood the lobby area, along with the original concession stand, all fully restored to their original splendor, complete with a crystal chandelier overhead.

And of course, just beyond ornate doors, a gleaming ticket booth stood, under the protective cover of a huge marquee, surrounded by lights. Across that marquee, in huge black letters, was the proclamation “Opening Soon”.

"I see the sign still hasn’t changed yet,” a voice says from behind, interrupting my train of thought.

Before I can turn to address the speaker, a second voice, a young woman’s to be precise, adds, “It’s been saying that for almost two months, ever since the renovations were finished. So, what’s the holdup?”

I know both those voices, especially the second one. After all, my dearest Lisa spends more time at my mansion than she does at home. Or at least it seems that way sometimes.

Turning to face her and Brian (her father), I answer dryly, “The management has been encountering unforeseen difficulties, which must be overcome before this wonderful place can be opened. Furthermore, management, knowing the public has very high expectations for what kind of experience this facility will provide the community, are even now diligently struggling to resolve these issues as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, much of their time is being taken up by fielding repetitive and inane questions from uninvited visitors.”

I fully expect Lisa to have some equally witty comeback, but her father beats her to the punch. “Still can’t make up your mind on what film or films to present on opening night, eh?”

Rather than openly admitting that he is correct, I give him the most dignified response I can come up with at that moment. I blow a raspberry at him.

Brian, his smile emphasized by the old-fashion sideburns he had recently began sporting, turns to his daughter and says casually, “And that my dear, is the kind of maturity you can expect from your godfather, should you ever have the misfortune of ever having to live with him on a regular basis.”

To which Lisa cocks her head prettily and responds, “Well, then at least he’d have one mature person around to keep an eye on things.”

Considering she’s only 22, compared to my 171 years of existence, I am more than prepared to differ. However, upon thinking back on some of the many adventures with Para-Earths and other strange encounters she’s experienced over time with me and Otto, she may have a point. So, I do the most grownup thing I can think of, I blow a raspberry at her as well. 

Okay, maybe there is some validity to her remark about my maturity. But there’s no way in hell, I’m about to admit it. At least not out loud.

TO BE CONTINUED...

*Author's Note: this event will be covered in "The Vampyre Blogs - Family Ties" novel which is still being written at the time of this post.*

Private Journal of Doctor Jack Tyler December 29th, 2012 "The Haircut" - Part III

      I frowned at my grandfather saying, "Hey, my hair isn't that long.

   "No, but it looks like the last time it was cut someone took a weed-whacker to it," he grunted and gestured at the seat. "So which of you mop-tops is going to be first?"

     "Mop-Top?" Darlene repeated, scrunching up her face in such a way it was clear she didn't know whether to be amused or confused.

     Luckily Cheryl came to her rescue, "That was a popular way of describing men with long hair back in the 60's. I think it started when the Beatles came here to the United States for the first time." Here she paused and studied me for a moment and then added, "You just need to look at your father to get a good idea of how long their hair was back then."

     My offspring gave me an appraising stare and then shook her head. "They considered that long? Looks more he's losing some..."

     "That'll do," I cut in giving her a look that once upon a time would strike terror into her heart. Now all it did was earn me a mischievous grin. Sigh... they grow up fast and much harder to intimidate these days. 

     Meanwhile, Nathan had hopped into the barber's chair, much to my grandfather's satisfaction. Especially when Nathan started asking him about the NY Mets.

     "That bunch of bums!" granddad snarled, while tying the styling cape around Nathan's neck, "Don't get me started. And why are you bringing them up? This isn't baseball season."

     "My point exactly," Nathan replied cheerfully, "If they play during the off season they might actually find someone they can beat. Maybe a girl's softball team for instance."

     Darlene immediately jumped in saying, "You've got to be kidding. We'd mop the floor with those losers, any day of the year."

     "You tell 'im," granddad smiled and turned back to Nathan, "She gets that from my side of the family."

     "And mine!" added my grandmother pointedly. Then she turned to Cheryl and said in a stage-whisper, "He'll never admit it, but he always loved the fact that I wouldn't put up with his nonsense."

     "Like hell," granddad shot back, "I married you because no one else was willing to try to straighten you out so you'd behave more like a lady."  

     "And how did that work out for you?" Nathan asked innocently.

     Granddad glared at him for a second then murmured something about, "Gimme time. I'm still working on it." 

     I was about to comment how he'd already been working on her for almost 70 years, when I noticed my son Joe picking up an old photo album off the table. "Be careful with that," I told him, "That contains some priceless pictures in it."

     Naturally he gave me a skeptical look. "Dad, you say that about all the albums at home and it's just filled with pictures of us when we growing up."

     Looking up into the mirror, granddad saw which book Joe was holding and said, "Memories of family will be more precious than you'll ever know one day. But that's not what's in that book. Those are photos, most of them signed, by some of my favorite customers from over the years. Go ahead and take a peek, you might recognize one or two faces."

     Obligingly, my son did as he was told and immediately his eyes widened at the first image he came across. "Cary Grant!" he cried.

         

     "You're kidding?" his sister gasped and went over to see for herself. 

     Meanwhile, Granddad got to work on Nathan and was saying, "Really nice fella. Great head of hair. Loved working on it and passing the time with him. How old was he when you first brought him to my shop?"

      Nathan had to think for a moment. "Let's see, he was still pretty new in the vaudeville circuit when I met him. I'd say he was just eighteen at the time."

     "That's what I thought," Granddad nodded, "Always stopped in for a shave or a haircut whenever he came to town too." 

     Meanwhile Darlene had turned the next page in the album and started frowning. "Who's the funny-looking guy with the big nose? Was he famous too?"

      "Let me see," Nana told her and went to take a peek. After a moment she smiled, "Oh, that's Jimmy."

     "Which one, Stewart or the other one?" asked Granddad looking up from his work.

      Nana shook her head at him, "Did Jimmy Stewart ever have a big nose?"

     Suddenly, Nathan leapt out of the chair and swung around. His nose had grown considerably as he started talking fast in a raspy, jolly voice. "Who's got a big nose? Madam I'll have you know this schnozzola has given me the world's most memorable profile. It even got me into Guiness just last year."

     I quickly jumped in. "You're in the Guiness Book of World Records?"
     "Nah," Nathan replied in the same voice, "Any chump can into that old waste of paper. Nah, it got me into the Guinness brewery and straight into one of their vats. And lemme tell ya, it weren't full when I fell in, but it was plenty empty when I got out. Ha-cha-cha-cha."

     My son Joe, who had been frowning as if in deep thought, suddenly spoke up. "I know that voice. That's the guy who was the narrator from the 'Frosty the Snowman' cartoon."

     "Hey, that's right," his sister agreed. "And the cartoon version of him did have a big nose just like that." 

    "Dat's right kids, and lemme tell ya. They still didn't do it justice," Nathan continued in Mr. Durante's voice. "Why just the other day I..."

     At that point, Granddad grabbed Nathan by the arm and made him sit back in the chair. Of course this didn't stop the rush of jokes coming out of his client. In fact it wasn't until he pulled out the hot towel and placed it over the comedian's face that the dialogue became more muffled, but not completely silent.

    From then on, the rest of us continued going through the album marveling at the number of famous folks who Granddad had had the pleasure of working on over the years. Nathan helped supply some visuals to the proceedings, much to everyone's amusement and delight. 

    When Granddad finished with Nathan, Joe was more than willing to sit in the chair next and get his hair cut. Not that he really needed it, but by this time he was eager to hear more of namesake's stories. In the meantime I sat back and waited my turn in the chair. It was great seeing my kids really connecting with their great-grandparents. Like Granddad said earlier, memories about family were priceless and at that moment, I was wishing I had my phone out taking pictures. But I didn't, because Nathan had already grabbed it and was shooting away. 

    I later found out, both he and Cheryl had videotaped some of the exchanges and nonsense that followed. It was a great visit, but what made me the happiest was on the way home both Darlene and Joe asked when we were going to visit again. 

     We made a lot of memories tonight and all because of a simple haircut.

     

    - The End

Private Journal of Doctor Jack Tyler December 29th, 2012 "The Haircut" - Part II

            Darlene rolled her eyes at her brother and sighed, “I don’t know why he’d need a haircut. Does it really matter?” Then before he could answer, I saw her expression change. “Actually, that is a pretty good question. Dad…?

            Holding up my hands I said, “Don’t ask me, I’m just here for Nana’s cookies and hot chocolate.” I wasn’t about to admit that I’d never really thought about it myself.

            Just then Nathan, who was not three feet away, turned to my grandmother saying, “You know I could’ve sworn I’d walked in with a bunch of people, was I just imagining things? Or did I suddenly turn invisible?”

            I watched her pat his arm and say, “No, you’re just getting to that age when everyone thinks you’ve gone deaf or your mind has gone wandering and you aren’t paying attention. I get that a lot.”

           “Not from me!” I called out loudly.

           Nathan looked around, “Did you hear something?”

           “Aw it’s just this old house creaking, or my joints, one or the other,” Nana told him.

           “Must be the house,” he assured her. “I told your dad when he was building it to use hickory but as he pointed out it was more expensive and harder to get here in Connecticut.”

           Nana laughed as she led us down the hallway.

There was an old barber pole on the wall, next to the door that led downstairs.

My grandfather had been the town’s barber for over sixty-five years, before he finally ‘retired’. The shop was still in business but being run by one of my cousins who specialized in not only classic haircutting, but the more modern ‘faded’ style as well. I myself spent a lot of time in grand-dad’s shop when I was a boy and people often thought I’d follow in his footsteps. In reality, I was studying how he interacted with his customers since he always had a way with them. I learned an awful lot about putting people at ease and drawing them out from watching him, which has been a great asset to my medical practice.

I slipped past Nathan as we reached the door to offered Nana my arm which she accepted, then we all headed downstairs.

“Here we go through ‘Dr Who’s Tardis’ again,” I heard my son Joe murmuring behind me, only to be shushed by his sister saying, “Oh, shut up, I like that show.”

“That’s just because you think the current one is cute,” he shot back.

Glancing over my shoulder I saw Darlene make a face, “Ew… I’ll take David Tennant over him any day of the week. I mostly like the companions, especially Amy…”

At that point Nana chimed in with, “I still prefer Tom Baker myself.”

That earned several groans from the rest of us, although deep down I had to admit she had a point. He was a master of comic timing and seriousness when it came to the role of the Doctor. I would’ve said more but we’d just reached the bottom of the stairs and my grandfather’s ‘shop’.

Even though my dad, Nathan, and I helped set the place up for him, I always found myself transported back to my childhood every time I came down here.

One wall of the room was dominated by a large mirror, with shelving covered by numerous barber implements, stood before two chairs that had come from the shop itself. There was also a small flatscreen television staring down from above the mirror. In short, there were also other chairs and tables around the room, but to all intent and purposes, the place was a mini-barber shop. This had been my grandmother’s idea after a number of former clients kept pestering her husband for haircuts because he was the only one who knew how they liked their hair done. Plus, they missed having their regular bull sessions with him.

But most of all, she knew my grandad missed keeping busy.

My grandfather was lounging in the older of the two chairs, when we came down. Getting out of one of the chair, where he'd been reading the paper, he stood up. "About time you got here Nathan, I was about to..." he began then spotted me and my family. "Oh good, lord you brought the entire crew with you. Looks like I've got my work cut out for me tonight."

TO BE CONTINUED...

*Author's Note: Sorry for the short entry. I was working on it this past weekend and had to go to get some routine lab work done (which took a couple of hours... groan). Plus family and a bad cold took more out of me.  Didn't want to leave you all with nothing, so I figured a short entry was better than nothing, especially when I'm trying to do at least at two entries a month. To be concluded in two weeks... unless the story decides it wants to be longer.