a novel by
Prelude Note
Today I died and leave you this unfinished manuscript. When I started this some 40 years ago it was supposed to be something unusual and its form and design a new method of telling a story with its ideas transmitted from character to character; story to story; book to book in a non sequential order. It became an obsession like most first novels become with their authors in their early twenties. I was a neophyte like the characters of the book and the title and obsessed with a morbid desire for change as was most of the youth during the 1950's. NEOPHILISM was the title I had given to this incomplete manuscript because the Neophyte was possessed with this neophylistic manner of life. The novel is comprised of five books with an prologue and an epilogue. Book 1 is in First person, Book 2 is in Second person, Book 3 is in Third Person, Book 4 is a Play and Book 5 is a journalistic or newspaper account .The prologue sets the story and takes place in Greenwich Village in New York but it begins in the locker room of the Art School in Philadelphia. The last part and Epilogue is the last place where I had lived in Lucerne, Switzerland. It was a strange place and spent 29 years there and give the last chapter or epilogue the title "No Airlines Fly Over Lucerne".Just try to find a place in the world well known that has no airlines flying above.
[Make note on this day I died about the computer and the similarity to the concept of the book as far back as the summer at Fort Riley,Kansas in 1955 - a few months before I leave for Europe the first time. Mother's Hysterectomy and last visit with Amelia at the train station with her MG]
THE NEOPHYTES
NEOPHILISM:The obsession or morbid desire for change.
The searching, longing unmastered
Young in the new realm
Continuing the process of: leaving secure grounds
for the purpose of quenching the thirst for the
unknown and the unique
A deliberate novice due to the fact that some thing conquered and attained never emulates the drive To leave the realm of security and attain pleasure of life be they moral or immoral Immorality seems perfectly logical to them and the absolute solute terms were abolished, However these are not the codes of life and tragedy came to them and 1 They approached life like children at all times to answer the whys, whens , how regardless of how they transgressed, he in fact was that had not known of their transgression nor could one possibly realize a transgression when he formulates his own code of life.
Prologue; Amelia ,The Village Party
Book 1; Prim
Book 2; Bill
Book 3; Allan
Book 4; Marvin,Temporal
Book 5; Judy
Book 6; Photographs and captions
Epilogue Allan,No Airlines Fly Over Lucerne
PROLOGUE
What is real and what is not real ?; what is normal and what is not normal ?; what is white and what is Black?;What I am about to relate is ambiguous and mostly the gray between the absolute colors; there is no white and there is no black.
I cannot deal in absolutes this is not my reality and this that I write which is unreal is real...this is my reality.
Black is Day
White is Night
Black is not Night
White is not Day
White is day
Black is Night
Black is Day
White is night
You See there are many kinds of night
And there are many kinds of Day
So how could black or white be right
What color is twilight?
The Neophytes
The Prologue
The Village Party
Part I
I feel myself walking in an hypnotic trance while stepping precariously over and between the puddles, formed by the steady rain on the bellied and hollowed concrete city walks.I hadn't noticed the rain was seeping through my garments and had become severe, certainly not applicable for an evening stroll. Suddenly, feeling the dampness against my skin, the water dripping of my facial features and extremities,my first thought was of shelter. Being city like, I found the impulse and innate inhibition seeking some sort of protection. I was not too distant from an acquaintance, with whom I spent my student years, and remembering he lived on Eighth Street in the village, I made that my temporary destination. As I walked further in the dark dank deserted evening with the headlamps and the street overhead lights igniting a fairy tale in wetness, I became wary of meeting Franz again thought back a little to the hours, days and evenings we all had spent together.
Franz Gregory was an artist, writer, philosopher and what not. He was quite a bigot and self loved egoist with one witty repartee emitted after another. A student at the Art School with whom I had been acquainted and an important member of our little clan.He was hardly unnoticeable as a student. There were not many days when he came to school shaven, or with clean clothes.It is so easy to remember his fulsome mustache, hovering over his upper lip and extending from his wide nostrils, presenting quite a warlike grimace to his self compliant look. His long straight dark hair and deep inset eyes, with stubbles of hair on his face, made him a repugnant attraction. Never the less he was known by all, and there wasn't a visitor who came within sight of Franz that didn't ask who that peasant appearing individual was. Franz was the oldest student at school due to the fact that he came to college through the auspices of the G.I.Bill, after serving in the Second World war and the following Korean conflict. He was well read, able o give you historical facts at the bat of an eyelash, could quote Sophocles and Plato, Shakespeare, Dylan Thomas or e.e. Cummings and many other poets of renown. He could with amazing facility give plots, criticism and quotations on all of the world literature and his present kick was to speak of Bach and his Fugues and contrapuntal elements of musical construction.Although he had all this knowledge and spoke garrulously, there were none with whom he had complete comradeship and therefore no one ever knew what Franz would do or did. He in his own inimitable way presented somewhat of a puzzlement- but this was intriguing.
When I mention us I shall include the several which showed some intellect and future possibilities as creative artists and "Les Hommes de la Mond".This turbulent crew consisted of Marvin, a boy in his early twenties studying fabric design but lost in his beliefs to go to the fine arts and the quite stinted field of painting.An eagerly and overly good young man who was loved by all.Very contrary and unusual to his bland appearance and actions , he was obsessed with death, violence and unexplainable things that his mind would contrive but his soul would dare not allow.
Another member was a fair young woman whose title was Prim-who thought well of Marvin and loved him in a parental fashion.Prim earned he r livelihood at the rate. of a $1.50 an hour as life model at the school.I distinctly remember an episode which took place that will describe Prim in the best manner I know.
Prim going back home after a trying time in Philadelphia and deciding to return east, planned on going to New York this time and sell her innate talents which comprised of her delightful Renoir body and a determination to crash the theatrical world and produce herself the actress she longed believed she was. In preparation for her departure home she took all her worldly possessions. Among these possessions were a few life studies and water color profile portrait from her waist up that I had made.
Her parents not knowing of her exploitations as a model, thinking,their little darling, respectable girl they had sent through college was doing bit parts for a local television station an would soon be up for an Academy Award definitely wouldn't consider their daughter posing for a portrait.with her breasts obnoxiously showing. When Prim thought over her parents narrowness, she asked if I could be so kind and trim the portrait so as, shall we say, to make things a bit more presentable. It was amazing how she blushed hen she mentioned this idea and for consideration for her welfare, I wholeheartedly obliged and took the scissors in hand.
Prim was not her real name, but was named such for her poised quiet and flowering impression she gave one at first meeting, and it did take the place of a name the was not fond of; Isabella
Another of the Avant Garde was William Phenti, a frustrated, .opera student who had lost all possibilities of singing due to a Rheumatic condition but was quite talented with a brush and canvas.Although he could no longer sing efficiently he went to the opera religiously and sang and recited Wagner, Puccini, Massenet and Bizet with brilliant expression.Bill was a somewhat sensitive boy, with his Latin and Roman features, his long black mobile hair and his ultimate care for his person.His greatest fascination was homosexuality and if one did not know him well they would definitely consider him a member of good standing. Bill was a fanatic when it came to anyone degrading me, for I was an intellectual as well as a physical attraction to him in our relationship.
Last but not least was the most attractive and loved one of the clan and although they thought well and loved this seventeen year old prodigy it was I in the beginning who won her stainless youthful heart Amelia was a girl with so many attributes it would be impossible to name them . Predominantly she was gifted with a musical and artistic mind and had given piano recitals and concerts
on innumerable occasions. She was just finishing high school and soon to come to own school with an important scholarship, Perhaps the best introduction to Amelia could be some remarks and phrases passed on to one another now and then,....."Her eyes are close together, which means she has great insight and her beauty transcends that of which I have seen, oh to be able to seduce her " was Franz' conception."Somewhere in the world there must be
another for me, I wonder if there are two so humble and I
desirably " quoted Marvin, "Lacking the womanly stain
and her warmth is her-greatest attributes' 1 said Prim as s
she remembers her hurried youth, As for Bill she was
indescribable and took me from his obsession and afflicted
me with the BITCH'S CURSE
" Uh Oh yes my friend here are a few shekels for some broth," I was startled for a moment and my nostalgic trend of thought interrupted by a forlorn individual who can seek this wonderful and careless profession in our democracy, Taking my eyes from his rather spaniel look I had noticed that my destination was not far off and the swishing sound caused by the suction of my shoes to thought pavement, and vaporous fine wet wind convinced me that there were hours to go before a let-up, Waiting for a light to change on twelfth street across from the church, I could see the sedate Fifth Avenue begin again and last until the square. No trucks in this part, and like a piece of blue in a gray sky the area becomes immediately residential, It is so wonderful that here the old homes still remain and although uptown is rebuilt the Village has kept it's charm.
The light has changed color once again I continue toward Franz's apartment, As I glance through the perpetual
movement of windshield wipers onto the faces of unknown
people behind the wheel of their car, I somehow expect to
see a familiar face.Reaching into my vest pocket through my raglan McIntosh I find to my surprise an empty pack of cigarettes, I walked over to the tobacco shop purchased a pack, lit up and contemplated calling Franz to see if he was in. Strange but there would be no reason for him to be out since his apartment and studio was and probably still is his world. "There is nothing of fascination in the streets of the city to intrigue me, therefore I needn't go out less it be for the essentials of life,food or liquor.more than likely liquor" Those were his words and my reminder as I stepped out of the phone booth deciding the call unnecessary. I left the shop only to enter next door and pick up a bottle of Hennessy Three Star and and my entrance to Franz' place.
Resuming my little journey onto the street walk the rain was now being blown about and you could see curtains, made up of multitudinous modules of water, sweeping around corners and bouncing off metallic topped automobiles, and passing in a somewhat turbulent stream, swishing and brushing against the concrete curb stones sending it to the end of the block to be swollen up by the sewer as a whale consumes shrimp,
The clock from the church near Washington square, resounded four o'clock and coincidentally the precise time at which our group had begun preparation for the party. Not only was it the time but the exact date and this I remember for it was my birthday and 40 years to date,. A nightmarish incident I had tried to forget but to remember to forget is only to remember , thus it is improbable that in ones life time one could forget such an incident to which I refer.
As the last reverberating hollow was pronounced from
the steeple I could see the street, Eighth street in almost the same fashion as I once beheld it a decade ago, Not much change in the architectural structures, just the same predominant brownstones intercepted here and there by cellar and Street level shops, cafes and what we had called " pseudo shops" in our student years. This nomenclature we had given to these Espresso Italian coffee shops which had sprung up after the war and were frequented by the younger writers, painters, poets,actors etc., I can recall many exotic paintings, plots and musical pieces that were planned with full explosive youthful ideas and then defeated with the powerful cynicism that haunted the group thinking policy.I came upon the magnificent Brownstone which housed my friend Franz for close to 20 years,
Part II
Sixteen,Twenty-two,Thirty-six, a click , pull down and the locker door swings open in order for me to place the canvas and painting materials inside and I could hear Marvin call "Pawtuh ma mahn". This takes place almost every afternoon. He calls, we get cleaned up, discuss the technics and ethics of painting and meet Franz, Prim and Bill in the lobby. It is strange and unaccountable as to why they wait in the lobby for us, Franz with his half shut eyes and dangling cigarette from his .... moustache, Prim garbed in her rolled bottom blue jeans, blue and white sneakers and ...painted demur look, Bill the epitome of nonchalance with his oiled skin and rustled hair showing a grinding day. As we arrive and see the solemn group we nod in silence and exit through the enormous door of the Greek Colosseum like building which housed the artists of the future. Down the steps, still in silence we walked through the Iron Gate, down the street and into a repulsive red and white hamburger joint, called Jimmy Neff's. We take our little booth in the back, light up our cigarettes, order a round of tea with lemon and the silence gives way to laughter and conversation, and a cynical remark made to anyone of us by Franz.
"Narvin" in Prims husky voice "Did you get the book you left at my apartment Saturday night?" The conversing continues and goes from Literature to music, from art to sex and on and on.
"Did you get the letter in the student mail rack, Franz?"
"I had almost forgotten about it, thank you for reminding me of it."
Reading the letter with a contented look he explains his sudden joy and future. I have the use of an apartment in the Village for an indefinite period, my buddy from the army is going to the hospital to get cured from an illness he contracted in the army while serving." It was pleasant news for all, for what each had we shared completely.
There wasn't much of an interval between the mentioning of Franz's good fortune to the time we arrived in New York's fabulous "village". What ever took place in that short interval was of little importance, the mandatory factor was we had a weekend free and but one place to go.
As Franz took from his pocket the key to open the door to this newly gifted apartment, we all stood with wild anticipation awaiting the visual impact of it all. Not totally disappointed, but enough to make us wish to decorate it from foyer to kitchen, we spent an entire afternoon listing things to make this place suit our little bohemian tastes. While Amelia, Prim, Franz and I worked on the plans for renovation, Bill and Marvin went to get the food and drink necessary for this evenings celebration.
Several week shad passed and all the weekends were spent to make it our own little retreat. It was coming to the semester end at school when we decided to have a party after our long laboring and decorating. Prim was the fanatic when it came to parties, as a General is about reviews, and since Prim was planning a trip back to her hometown, this was certainly a party occasion.
Saturday evening, pre-party time, all invites notified, food spread out on the hatch cover coffee table and as for the liquor it was a BYOL affair. By ten thirty all guests arrived in attire from blue jeans to the tweedy sport coats of the school instructor. Every one felt at ease, admired the place, gazed at our art work hanging, and conversation and spirits, both mental and alcoholic increased in momentum.
There isn't a party that we have had where some individual does not leave a mark, be it good or bad, upon the occasion and at this time it was the doings of our good psychotic comrade, Gary. Gary, a completely frustrated art student who is weird as they come with or without alcohol in his veins, was seated in the corner of the sofa with Mike, a young boyish looking female who is completely ashamed of her virginity and never gets the chance to emerge from her "Mother said NO" inhibition. "Your Hurting me, you're hurting me, hurting me! the over intoxicated voice of this little damsel kept repeating time and time again.
"Shh I would never hurt you"
"YOU'RE HURTING ME"
"Never could I bring pain to my little Mike"
With his glassy stare his hold became more frantic and her expression grew pain. Royal, one of the guests, took it upon himself to release the frenzied hold, but at his attempt Gary became enraged to a point of threat.
"Come on near me, this way..... I am over here", as he spoke a switch blade glistened from his right side and his hold on Mike became stranger. Royal then decided it upon himself and his pride to cease this obnoxious behavior that prevailed quite too long. Taking hold in a small struggle the blade from this maladjusted individual, he made him consent to leave.
"You're all Laughing at me" exclaimed this madcap with reddened face, clenched fists, glazed eyes and his head pointed toward the ceiling.
"Don't laugh at the weak"
"Don't you ever laugh at the weak"
With a small snickering from the group his repeated sentence gained momentum increasingly.
With the last exclamation, almost in a preaching fashion he withdrew from a now silent almost morgue like room, which silence you could have analyzed as sympathetic silence. Many of the young female guests and few male guests were frightened and then relieved at this exodus of this exclamatory, over raged individual.
The guests started to leave one by two by four and only the invited remained to have a quiet party of their own. Each with a glass of their choice, some roaches cinder in the .ashtray, intoxicated to the hilt, finding themselves a conformable position on the floor or on a chair or sofa, raised their glasses and prepared offer an intimate toast. All but Franz followed s.suit and watching him in a most strange condition which assumed a powerfulness and intestinal fortitude, he stated......
"What a simple minded, idiotic, playful group of party goers".
Laughter just seem to permeate the air at the spoken words, but as he remained resolved the laughter became a chuckle and slowly declined to a smile and finally to a puzzled air, awaiting, awaiting....... The stillness was impenetrable, it hovered and suspended with anxiety and hesitation incised in each and every member in the room. One could imagine themselves a minute creature of the ocean, watching a net move slow and facile, surrounding all possible outlets and knowing themselves to be devoured.
Franz was known for his startling and incomprehensible remarks, which shock the very liver of a human, but these were made in a fashion dissimilar to his just said remark. It is strange that cynicism and sarcasm can be spoken readily and detected, there is a time when the sense and intuition show us there is a wrong and vivid belief in just a few spoken words. We can all act in some way, but although a human can be an actor can an actor be human? These words said at any other time place in any absurd manner would not have taken the course they have now. Why? There is no answer it is merely the humanistic tendencies of man.
Our eyes purveyed one another with the same knowing fear. Yes! it was fear, for in all our life when we cannot understand the phenomena and there is hesitancy and deliberation in an outcome of surmised tragedy, then this becomes fear. The eyes of Franz were now in a state of glass, molten glass reflecting the multi colored lights in the room, and his lips parted and parched with a sudden condition of perspiration emitting from his brow. What could he have to say to come to a state such as this.
"Are you trembling my dear?" this proposed question to Amelia broke the period of fixation.
"You need not hide your emotions and frustrate yourselves my confused Prim" and Allan, Marvin, William remain in this present stat for this is what I intended.
"Before I begin, let us propose that we are all in a sober state-agreed? If not,then my entire cause is disrupted and we shall depart from my simple sermon temporarily.....that is until we are convinced of each others sound condition."
"You don't think a few drinks could have that much affect in making us totally inebriated.... or do you Franz?"
"I will agree that your state of mind is functioning at it's usual caliber .... if that means much."
"Then what the hell are we waiting for, Chatter man (in song) for the old man is a comin' for to carry you....carry you to heaben ..
Follow.....follow.....follow the drinkin' cord.
"Knock it off"
"Thank you William. Now I can continue play on Marvin, but you are included in my little sermon.
"Now you are a Preacher, I beg your pardon Father.....an Artists, ...... philosopher, musician, author, critic......now a member of the religious sect, a missionary, a pastor...... Franz you are a man now, this will have to stop, a child with nothing in life at which to aim.
"Quite the contrary----- I have thought of the future that is precisely what this conversation entails."
"By all means continue Nostradamus."...."t isn't often, we have our palms read without the fee or the shawls spread about."
An outburst of laughter overtook the group and the serious trend broken only momentarily until the conversation continued once again.
"What is ahead of me? I care little, furthermore it makes little difference, for I shall live with each of you, living and following five different lives. I shall have the joy, happiness, illness, worries, troubles and even the anguish of death that will evolve through your years. My life means little to me, now that I have passed my energetic and initiative years and will mean even less now that Amelia won't be with us much longer.
At this remark Amelia grew pale and her youthful glowing complexion lost it's embers as she questioned in her mind the meaning of the said remark.
"Hold your fears and questions until I ask for them..... this way I can be more explicit and profound in my meanings....without interruptions. What I have to say is not merely a conversational piece, nor a statement without careful deliberation. This will have you know has been maturing for quite a long time.
Let me star at the time I first had this extraordinary...... wait do you believe in dream analysis?
"Aren't we all Freudian fans and Jung at heart"
"Precisely what I wanted to hear, and I believe I quite M..... have come to the climax of this careful consideration."
I had never heard Franz speak in this fashion, perhaps he had much to drink. Being prophetic as which he has shown is quite unreal for his calculations and understanding. Nevertheless all of us were completely absorbed and reeked with anxiety for his forthcoming words. As he offered another drink to all, he found no ice cubes to be had so headed toward the kitchen. Upon his return he was completely disgusted and perturbed to find a few of the members had fallen to a state of contented sleep due to their over exuberance this past evening. He glassily stared at each individual asleep and awake, then searched for his paint stained raglan and headed for the exit, exalting my neophytes in neophilism.
Amelia sprung up after about 2 minutes of surprised silence, moved to the closet set door, swung it open, put on her coat and ran to fetch the abate..ate creature who just left. Hurriedly running through the corridor, down the flights of stairs and stopped instantly at the brink of the doorway, panting and moving her head, scanning left and right at the glistening, puddled, reflected cement walk and black top street. Spotting the short, stodgy, coated figure approaching the corner she called excitedly, but to no avail. He continued his way after undoubtedly hearing her cry in the still hours of the early morning.
Amelia started to run, wetting her little canvass shoes as she stepped through the glass puddles of rain and tried desperately to catch him. In her frenzied scamper she was but on the other side of the intersection from Franz and called breathlessly once again to the figure in the billowing rain coat. He did no turn to her call, instead just continued on his way.
As she tore across the street, the screech of brakes and rubber tires against the soaked asphalt and a scream of incarcerated pain echoed and broke the impenetrable silence that once was held in these stone structures of the street crossing. The single figure in the distance turn and ran toward the young lady's body strewn to the side of the metallic monster. Approaching the figure lying he glanced at her pale face, lit by the auto headlamps, and watched the rain bombard her exposed face, and her bottom quiver and whisper his name constantly. Silently he knelt and kissed her moist lips and heard the driver phoning at the police box for aid. Amelia opened her eyes, stared into his deep pools of black and spoke fervently "I have finally caught up with you....Franz...." His dark eyes moistened and shed a tear that rolled from the corner down to the glistening moist and passionately fell to her side, grasped her hand and resting his head....her bosom.
"I didn't know how, why, or when but I know, I knew....Oh if I only didn't know.... please believe me I-I-I didn't wish it for the world, please believe me, please, please" Her hand opened from his grip and remained he rose looking at the man from the vehicle through his teared eyes standing in front of him, brought his hand up to his collar and drew it shut with a twisting nervous action, turned about paying no mind to the man's questions and walked silently away through the shrill and screeching silence which grew and increased with loudness with every step he took.
The Apartment was still, the hum of the city was muffled by the closed windows in the room, business on the street took it's mid morning toll, horns blast, but the room remained silent. Bill spread about on the couch and on the floor to his right lay Marvin, Prim curled as a ball an almost embryonic ...ate on the pillowed surface floor. I reached warily from my slouched position in the orange colored butterfly chair to lift the receiver and stop the dreadful ring of the telephone......Hello......Yes she is here!...Prim, wake up, it is for you!
"Yes, this is she, she answered with heavy eyelids still in the coma of sleep, suddenly awakening and exclaiming.
"Yes......
Wonderful....
Marvelous....at one fifteen
....by all means....thank you!"
She hung up the receiver and shrieked with joy. "This is it, I am to be auditioned on a new play at the Circle in the square this afternoon, it is a lead ad part too".
All then awoke and sent hearty congratulations and drinks poured from the unfinished bottles of the previous evening.
"Franz.... did you hear it? Franz..... Franz..... where is that can is never around when you would like him to be...... he hasn't been back since he left."
As I looked around the apartment I noticed neither Amelia nor Franz were available to share the joyous news.
Marvin stood near the window with an unusual grimace which seemed to say something of importance as he read to himself from a small scratch pad..... "Where is Franz? an Explanation needed.... well listen to this little missal....
My Associates:
I shall see neither of you for some time to come and was quite sorry I hadn't finished my little speech last evening....
"My goodness It is one fifteen"
"Aren't you going to listen to the Gregorian Doctrine"
"It will have to wail until my return. I am afraid"
Prim then made haste to the bedroom, through on a few fresh clothes, brushed her long glistening hair, put it up in a pony tail, and left the apartment on her way to the theater.
She was as enthusiastic about the audition as she was upon her entrance to the sorority in College.
"I am Prim Devlan..."
"Yes you have the next reading.... will you please take a seat on the first row... Mr. Q. is auditioning another you lady at present."
She took her seat and listened attentively to the young aspiring actress on the state at the present time and marveled at the girls wonderful enunciation and poise. All that ran through her mind now was those few years after college. Her first try at theater, her many many failures and hopes she met her friends through the modeling job she had taken, her old friend and roommate Ruth, who taught at a little New Jersey school and studied directing and coached her constantly through various plays, the party, the drams of a new York acting job, the parties, her enormous disappointment her beloved friend and wonderful companion, Amelia who she wanted to this occasion with and even Franz, wondering about that letter she had had time to listen to.
"Miss Devlan"
"....Oh yes"
"Have you a script to read from?"
"I have one here from Williams Summer and Smoke"
"Wonderful choice.... go up to the stage please and when you are ready begin.... there is no hurry."
I was completely rattled as I fumbled through the pages of the text and began evoking the lines... I was through and could see Mr. Q. whispering to his associates and making notes on the clip board in his possession.
"Miss Devlan.... would you come over here for a moment"
I walked to the right wing and stepped slowly down the steps and completely surprised myself at my relaxed air as I answered some of the interviewing questions thrown at me. I was complimented by a few of the other gentlemen seated along side of the Director and this made me feel even so secure and dominant.
"Miss Devlan... we have your phone number.... please await our call as to our negative or positive reactions this evening.... thank you".
I nodded my head in thanks and left the theater feeling ten times my size yet a little frightened and excited.
I now had to tell the kids about the reading, but first let me collect my thoughts. I crossed the street and walked through the wonderful sunny spring, that Washington Square holds for the aspiring young Artists. Each day it takes on a new look. Last week it was dreary and morbid: today it is springtime and the birds and the leaves are bright at glorifying. Today it is the capital of the world, Paris, Vienna, London, Berlin, Rome, all in one little Square. The people are even saying hello today and I can feel the pigeons following me alone as if I were the Pied Piper. Through the park and then back to the studio apartment and await with anxiety my important phone call. I briskly ran up the steps and upon entrance the room I took the Umleitung sign and turned it around for good luck, swung open the door and my first sentence was curbed and pacified by the look on the boys faces and the playing of Amelia's Little Fugue by Bach on the tape recording. They each stared at emptiness, eyes moist and nervous hands rasping in a persperated fashion Marvin came toward me and asked me to follow him to the bedroom, which I did.... they didn't ever ask me how it went this afternoon. Marvin unraveled a piece of paper and asked me to read aloud to him... I glanced at it and started to read. It was the letter Franz had written and I continued where I left off.... Perhaps it was for the best. Last night I was bereaved my only love and future pleasure.... Amelia met a fatal accident because of my obstinate ways... I could have prevented it perhaps by obeying her call to me and stop her frenzied running, but I turned only to find her lying there on the street beside two enormous bright lighted eyes that can't see. I sensed it an ... I shan't see you for some time, make sure the funeral arrangements are taken care of and her family notified. I blame myself for this act and could not face you my friends for a while. Please....
Tears filled my eyes to a point I couldn't read any further. I fell toward the bed with my hands secure against my face, sobbing, weeping failing to breath correctly and catching my breath in spasms. I must have lay there for hours in a continuous envisioning of the fair and charming girl who I would have given the world had I the opportunity. Marvin came in with the newspaper article and the description of the accident by the driver of the Automobile. The article mentioned a passerby who knelt and spoke to the girl with passion before she had passed away.
I know at once it must have been Fra...., and then remembered his uncaring words.... Amelia won't be with us much longer... was it coincidence or does he have the power of insight. I am relieved he went on no further for fear of what he might have instilled in each of us.
Two months have passed since that horrifying day that started so well. I received the part in the play and somehow was not as excited as I always hoped I would have been. I had been studying the part religiously and had, it down pat.... they liked it but my heart wasn't in completely. I hadn't slept well during those rehearsals and preparation for the play. They took it as if I had been living the part of my character fully and relished in the fact that they had a true artist. I opened the play and played five evenings and on the fourth evening at the last scene of the play passed out from exhaustion and mental fatigue, awoke two days later I was told in a sanatorium and Mr. Q. was there by my side. I had developed Mono- nucleosis and was on the verge of Leukemia had not the cortisone treatments been successful. The doctor told me I would need a job where I could be through at the end of the day and that must exclude night work completely. Perhaps in a few years I could try it again..... I know this was the end of my acting career and remained in the hospital for six weeks, eating wholesome food, resting eating and building myself up for my next failure. I had many sessions with the psychiatrists who thought there was some mental factor revolving around this disease and breakdown. I practically told him my life history almost to the point of every bath and urination. He was completely delighted of my response and wanted so to help me accustom myself to a new life.
I was about three days prior to my discharge from the hospital when he called me into his office and said my case was closed as far as he was concerned. A middle aged gentleman was looking out the office window and turned as the Dr. said, "This is Dr. Brandt of Philadelphia, and of the directors of the biggest and newest hospital in Philadelphia, and one has come to me for a Medical secretary and I have suggested you Miss Devlan for the position.
"Me?"
"Yes, I know you are a college graduate and have studied along the list of medicine and with a little time could very well be quite the person for the job.... Don't say no... until after you have tried it for a while.
"If you think I could do it, and I do need a job, I will give it a try. I spoke with this handsome graying doctor for an hour and he was willing to give me the job without hesitation. I went back to the Apartment that afternoon and William was the only one holding the fort. He was shocked to see me and inquired about my health. He introduced me to his friend Peter, who was more feminine that I could ever be or hope to be. Bill had a tendency to attract the young feminine creatures or maybe he was attracted to them... I never did figure him out completely all I know was he was good and a humble friend. I went to the bedroom and started to pack my things and answer I all the questions Bill had to me about the packing and where I was going, was it dreadful in the hospital and many more superficial questions that he had a knock for asking. I answered them all kissed him on his forehead and bid him goodbye and regards to all who once maintained this little tragic nest. As I was explained I would write and relate all that took place and how
my new job would be like.
The phone rang.... dropping the packages, valises, boxes and what not, that I packed to the floor I ran excitedly to answer it.
"Yes.,,,,,......... in a few moments.... no please don't... I beg you, don't question it.... down stairs in ten minutes.... see you then."
"That was the Doctor I presume" said Bill in his haughty tone, "Won't I get a chance to meet the Philadelphia Physician?"
"I am afraid not, William,.... Dr. Brandt is my passage toward the future, and I rather not show him any of the past... we have an understanding and will not question me if I so desire. Perhaps in the future...." as I spoke my eyes peered throughout the room and envisioned my friends, or shall I call them "Actors", who played in our intimate little playhouse, with staging so real, and lines so vivid, forming a theater of life. How can I put the cherished passages in the play aside, or forget my fellow actors..... my eyes began to absorb the moisture of emotion as I passed each friend taking his curtain bow as if it were the last of the play. I chilled and shivered, biting my lips as parted the group held his hand backstage and called for Amelia, dressed
in the garb of Jeanne d'Arc and the very sallow lock of death....
"A horn is blowing for you Prim".
"Thank you William, I seemed to have misplaced my handkerchief.... Good bye!"
Yes, this was goodbye, but how can I say those two words? Can on e live for 24 hours and decide to discard her every hope and dream that remained with her from adolescent to womanhood. Those six weeks were torturous, no Franz, nor friends to discuss the situation, I was left to decide it by myself and came up with a decision for the first time in my life. I worked if it would not have been better to have died than to face life once again. I remember a poem that Allan once wrote and a passage that describes the past very well
The past forgotten, the Future not there
Not moving to or fro
The present at a standstill...
Yes it describes it perfectly, a vacuum, an enduring period without movement.Perhaps Goodbye is best..... goodbye.
End of Prologue