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.
