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...

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.