1933
The telephone in the front parlor alcove rang. It seemed that it had been ringing for minutes. The ring was loud enough to usually alert inhabitants of the home, but apparently strong enough to forewarn those standing 75 feet away from its source.
The stuffed hawk that perched on top of the piano might have been distressed by the constant ringing. The chicken hawk was, of course, dead for many years now. It had been shot by the old Judge himself, who was also dead for a while. The weapon of choice had been an old side by side shotgun. Because the Judge had lost an arm during the Civil War, the whole process of loading, cocking, aiming and shooting had been a chore at the very least. But the hawk in question fell prey to a double blast from the teetering gun as this raptor circled near the chicken coops in the backyard.
The current occupants of the Tustin home now were the clairvoyant, his wife, and their three children.
These folks were currently all standing out near the road just beyond the palm trees in front of the two-story home. The front door at the top of the porch remained open, thus allowing the street dwellers to hear the ringing telephone. The people were standing outside and away from the house for a reason.
Many folks, in the vicinity of the Newport Road location, could, at a distance, be seen standing outside in the dimming light of evening. A faint glow was shrinking in the west, adding to the eerie feeling that permeated the suddenly quiet evening.
The clairvoyant instructed his wife and children to remain where they were. Both fear and anguish shown in the eyes of the mother and her offspring.
They did as he said.
The mystic walked slowly back to the house, mounted the porch stairs cautiously, and moved silently toward the alcove and its ringing telephone. As he had, many times in passing, noticed the glassy eyes of the piano hawk. Those eyes followed him, as they always seem to do, while he moved across the entryway and into the alcove.
A chill ran down his spine, and trepidation grew in his heart as he looked at the protesting telephone.
"Hello?"
"It's me."
"I know."
The phone appeared to go silent. There was no further communication. He could hear the faint beat of sobbing coming from the earpiece. He waited.
"There's.....there's been an earthquake!" More sobbing.
"I know. We felt it. "
He waited, knowing full well what would be asked next.
"I......I need your help."
"Are you injured?"
"No. But.....can you come?"
His hesitation must have carried the weight of worlds. He was torn. His family needed him. Wasn't this a dire moment? He had struggled for many years only to be barely able to provide for his family. The Depression had overwhelmed everyone. It was only his ingenuity that had allowed them to survive at all. And it had been her generosity that had taken the rough edges off their survival. He owed her. And she needed him. He understood that all too clearly.
"Alright, I'll be there. Just as soon as I can."
"Please......hurry!"
The clairvoyant hung up the telephone and stared out through the open front door at his family standing near the road. Night had won the battle for dominance over the planet. All that remained were small tremors and the anguish the clairvoyant felt.
1
1932
The chimes on the mantel clock struck four times. The shadowy room was already poorly illuminated but the lateness of the day only added to the feeling of being isolated.
She liked this.
This was why she had come to this place. To be alone. So much of her life was now owned by others that it seemed almost impossible to distinguish her own identity. If she opened the shuttered window, she could look across the courtyard and into the window of her daughter’s room. She chose not to do this. Even if she had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Her daughter would have her own window closed so she didn’t have to see her mother.
This small room, with its arched doorways and similar window design, made her feel as if she was in another part of the world….in a place that was both immediately exotic and dangerous. The danger lay in the possibility of others discovering her location; of strangers reaching into her inner sanctum to get a glimpse of her face; to hear her words of encouragement; to even possibly……touch her.
These thoughts repulsed her. Her whole body momentarily shook with rage. The possibility of existence only led to the inevitability of others finding this exotic location in the middle of California nowhere.
She wondered if a drink might calm her. She wasn’t much of a drinker. She would occasionally have a glass of wine with a meal if she was with others. But no one was here, save herself and her daughter. And her daughter was almost half a world away across the courtyard.
To get to her mother’s dark room, the girl would have to walk up two flights of stairs, cross two large rooms through more of the arched doorways, and knock, as her mother required. The girl was certainly not interested in a trip of this variety late in the day.
Normally her driver would also be here. He was more than a driver, though. He was also a bodyguard and her manservant. He fulfilled no personal sexual needs that she may have. But he did manage to discreetly anticipate her desires in other ways. He often would appear from almost nowhere to see if she wanted anything. But he had left over three hours ago to pickhim up at his office in Los Angeles. Together the driver and the mystic would make the pilgrimage to the Castle, where she waited.
Placing these feelings on a balance, the notion of her medium being here allowed her to disregard her negative thoughts and fears and to remember the magical moments of their previous meetings. She looked forward to their time together with an almost animal craving.
Their previous seven meetings had taken place in her home in Los Angeles.
These intriguing moments had spanned a period of just over four years. He had traveled initially by train from Santa Ana to La Grande Station where her driver would pick him up and deliver him to her. But since his opening an office in Los Angeles a couple of years ago, her waiting time for his visits to her house was much shorter.
But now she wasn’t at her house in Los Angeles.
She looked around the darkening room and then went to a window. From the window she could see the Lake. Many birds were skimming the water at this time of day. As the sun began its descent, the water took on an almost iridescent glow. She saw one lone bird sitting on a post emanating from the water. This bird appeared to turn and look in her direction.
During their previous meetings, he would arrive with a small satchel containing his accoutrements. He was always dressed in an inexpensive business suit, but his quick smile had immediately put her at ease in their first meeting. On that occasion she had taken him to a small sitting room in the west part of the Los Angeles house. Normally the light would be quite bright in this room. She had muted the illumination with the use of shades. She thought that would be more suitable for their first transcendent meeting.
It was there that they began the conversations that would become an essential part of her personal life. It was in that house that they would talk; they would laugh; they would begin the journey of self-discovery that she so desperately desired.
While these meetings at the Los Angeles house were a balm to her soul, the location where they took place was always a thorn that pricked her when he spoke of it as her home. She couldn’t consider that house her home. It was a gift from the Church.
It was a grand house with everything she could want. The living areas were beyond comfortable. Her bedroom was luxurious. The bathing areas were large and convenient at the same time. It was everything a prince or princess could desire. And yet, it was not her home. She longed for the opportunity to meet with him in the magic of her Castle…her real home.
2
She walked across the dim study to the mantel above the fireplace. Her driver had built a fire before leaving to pick him up, but now all that remained were small embers that gave a muted light, but no heat.
She touched the E.E. Emanuel clock and wondered about the whole concept of time. Before she had discussed these matters with her spiritualist, her understanding of physics was not to question any aspect of it. To attempt to explain time and space was a matter for scientists.
At least that was what she thought before him.
The clock suddenly struck and startled her. She realized that it was now 4:30. He would be here at her secret hideaway in a short while. Time, which had often exposed her aging and longings, had suddenly become her benefactor. It was if the passage of the few moments until his arrival, were somehow being accelerated.
She thought back to their second meeting. She was at ease once again in his presence. This time he told her more about himself. How he had mined for gold on the American River when he was 38 years old. How he ventured into the search for the black gold when he was 41 years old. He regaled her with stories of working in the oil fields; on rousting about on the rigs; and later dabbling in the business of the distribution of oil. He told her of his first marriage and that ended in childbirth. A few years after his first wife’s death, he married again.
He spoke about registering for the draft at age 43 but was never called up into the Great War or its aftermath. He described being a farmer in California during the early 1920’s until the Great Depression hit. After that, he became a medium for both the common man and many individuals of greater wealth in Southern California.
There was little doubt that he offered her a pathway into the mystic arts, but he was also becoming something more. He was transcending into a possible advisor. His understanding…..his empathy…..were the attributes that interested her. He was becoming someone she could count on for sound guidance. Many hints and suggestions he had given her regarding her business were tested by her and the results were positive.
The sun had since voyaged to the western side of the mountains above the Lake and the shadows that crept through the windows were long and dark.
Hermana, as she was called by her gardener, moved back across the room and switched on the light on the table below the window. The light cascaded across the room, almost in slow motion. It first illuminated the carpet and then stretched into the corners. But it’s small bulb could not fully extinguish the darkest recesses. She wondered if they should meet in this room with the two large Mission chairs covered in leather or perhaps go to her favorite place in the tower. She would decide when he arrived.
She thought about maybe stoking the fire but decided that would create too much warmth in this room. She would sit in one of the chairs and patiently await the passage of these moments. She had completely forgotten about having a drink to calm her eagerness.
She sat in one of the chairs and took several deep breaths to center herself. He had taught her how to utilize this technique at moments of stress.
Once again, the concept of time passing had entered her mind. Although she was nearing her mid-forties, she had taken great pride in presenting herself as an attractive woman. She spent time enhancing these female charms of outward appearance. The woman beneath the made-up enrichments was still one more day older and one day further from the attractiveness she had shown as a young woman.
Because she found her allures to be diminishing, she understood she needed to develop certain different skills to succeed in a man’s world. She desired that the men around her would value her for attributes beyond her beauty. She had certainly accomplished this with her ability to speak publicly. There was no doubt about that. Her real desire was to have her ability to think and reason to be acceptable to the men in her life.
Yes to be acceptable….but she also desired to be in control of this acceptance.
She felt that she was approaching these goals with her clairvoyant. He treated her as an equal during the time they spent together. She had sensed his frustration on a couple of occasions. But they usually got back on a par in a short period of time. Once again, she expectantly looked forward to their consultation this day.
The telephone in the front parlor alcove rang. It seemed that it had been ringing for minutes. The ring was loud enough to usually alert inhabitants of the home, but apparently strong enough to forewarn those standing 75 feet away from its source.
The stuffed hawk that perched on top of the piano might have been distressed by the constant ringing. The chicken hawk was, of course, dead for many years now. It had been shot by the old Judge himself, who was also dead for a while. The weapon of choice had been an old side by side shotgun. Because the Judge had lost an arm during the Civil War, the whole process of loading, cocking, aiming and shooting had been a chore at the very least. But the hawk in question fell prey to a double blast from the teetering gun as this raptor circled near the chicken coops in the backyard.
The current occupants of the Tustin home now were the clairvoyant, his wife, and their three children.
These folks were currently all standing out near the road just beyond the palm trees in front of the two-story home. The front door at the top of the porch remained open, thus allowing the street dwellers to hear the ringing telephone. The people were standing outside and away from the house for a reason.
Many folks, in the vicinity of the Newport Road location, could, at a distance, be seen standing outside in the dimming light of evening. A faint glow was shrinking in the west, adding to the eerie feeling that permeated the suddenly quiet evening.
The clairvoyant instructed his wife and children to remain where they were. Both fear and anguish shown in the eyes of the mother and her offspring.
They did as he said.
The mystic walked slowly back to the house, mounted the porch stairs cautiously, and moved silently toward the alcove and its ringing telephone. As he had, many times in passing, noticed the glassy eyes of the piano hawk. Those eyes followed him, as they always seem to do, while he moved across the entryway and into the alcove.
A chill ran down his spine, and trepidation grew in his heart as he looked at the protesting telephone.
"Hello?"
"It's me."
"I know."
The phone appeared to go silent. There was no further communication. He could hear the faint beat of sobbing coming from the earpiece. He waited.
"There's.....there's been an earthquake!" More sobbing.
"I know. We felt it. "
He waited, knowing full well what would be asked next.
"I......I need your help."
"Are you injured?"
"No. But.....can you come?"
His hesitation must have carried the weight of worlds. He was torn. His family needed him. Wasn't this a dire moment? He had struggled for many years only to be barely able to provide for his family. The Depression had overwhelmed everyone. It was only his ingenuity that had allowed them to survive at all. And it had been her generosity that had taken the rough edges off their survival. He owed her. And she needed him. He understood that all too clearly.
"Alright, I'll be there. Just as soon as I can."
"Please......hurry!"
The clairvoyant hung up the telephone and stared out through the open front door at his family standing near the road. Night had won the battle for dominance over the planet. All that remained were small tremors and the anguish the clairvoyant felt.
1
1932
The chimes on the mantel clock struck four times. The shadowy room was already poorly illuminated but the lateness of the day only added to the feeling of being isolated.
She liked this.
This was why she had come to this place. To be alone. So much of her life was now owned by others that it seemed almost impossible to distinguish her own identity. If she opened the shuttered window, she could look across the courtyard and into the window of her daughter’s room. She chose not to do this. Even if she had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Her daughter would have her own window closed so she didn’t have to see her mother.
This small room, with its arched doorways and similar window design, made her feel as if she was in another part of the world….in a place that was both immediately exotic and dangerous. The danger lay in the possibility of others discovering her location; of strangers reaching into her inner sanctum to get a glimpse of her face; to hear her words of encouragement; to even possibly……touch her.
These thoughts repulsed her. Her whole body momentarily shook with rage. The possibility of existence only led to the inevitability of others finding this exotic location in the middle of California nowhere.
She wondered if a drink might calm her. She wasn’t much of a drinker. She would occasionally have a glass of wine with a meal if she was with others. But no one was here, save herself and her daughter. And her daughter was almost half a world away across the courtyard.
To get to her mother’s dark room, the girl would have to walk up two flights of stairs, cross two large rooms through more of the arched doorways, and knock, as her mother required. The girl was certainly not interested in a trip of this variety late in the day.
Normally her driver would also be here. He was more than a driver, though. He was also a bodyguard and her manservant. He fulfilled no personal sexual needs that she may have. But he did manage to discreetly anticipate her desires in other ways. He often would appear from almost nowhere to see if she wanted anything. But he had left over three hours ago to pickhim up at his office in Los Angeles. Together the driver and the mystic would make the pilgrimage to the Castle, where she waited.
Placing these feelings on a balance, the notion of her medium being here allowed her to disregard her negative thoughts and fears and to remember the magical moments of their previous meetings. She looked forward to their time together with an almost animal craving.
Their previous seven meetings had taken place in her home in Los Angeles.
These intriguing moments had spanned a period of just over four years. He had traveled initially by train from Santa Ana to La Grande Station where her driver would pick him up and deliver him to her. But since his opening an office in Los Angeles a couple of years ago, her waiting time for his visits to her house was much shorter.
But now she wasn’t at her house in Los Angeles.
She looked around the darkening room and then went to a window. From the window she could see the Lake. Many birds were skimming the water at this time of day. As the sun began its descent, the water took on an almost iridescent glow. She saw one lone bird sitting on a post emanating from the water. This bird appeared to turn and look in her direction.
During their previous meetings, he would arrive with a small satchel containing his accoutrements. He was always dressed in an inexpensive business suit, but his quick smile had immediately put her at ease in their first meeting. On that occasion she had taken him to a small sitting room in the west part of the Los Angeles house. Normally the light would be quite bright in this room. She had muted the illumination with the use of shades. She thought that would be more suitable for their first transcendent meeting.
It was there that they began the conversations that would become an essential part of her personal life. It was in that house that they would talk; they would laugh; they would begin the journey of self-discovery that she so desperately desired.
While these meetings at the Los Angeles house were a balm to her soul, the location where they took place was always a thorn that pricked her when he spoke of it as her home. She couldn’t consider that house her home. It was a gift from the Church.
It was a grand house with everything she could want. The living areas were beyond comfortable. Her bedroom was luxurious. The bathing areas were large and convenient at the same time. It was everything a prince or princess could desire. And yet, it was not her home. She longed for the opportunity to meet with him in the magic of her Castle…her real home.
2
She walked across the dim study to the mantel above the fireplace. Her driver had built a fire before leaving to pick him up, but now all that remained were small embers that gave a muted light, but no heat.
She touched the E.E. Emanuel clock and wondered about the whole concept of time. Before she had discussed these matters with her spiritualist, her understanding of physics was not to question any aspect of it. To attempt to explain time and space was a matter for scientists.
At least that was what she thought before him.
The clock suddenly struck and startled her. She realized that it was now 4:30. He would be here at her secret hideaway in a short while. Time, which had often exposed her aging and longings, had suddenly become her benefactor. It was if the passage of the few moments until his arrival, were somehow being accelerated.
She thought back to their second meeting. She was at ease once again in his presence. This time he told her more about himself. How he had mined for gold on the American River when he was 38 years old. How he ventured into the search for the black gold when he was 41 years old. He regaled her with stories of working in the oil fields; on rousting about on the rigs; and later dabbling in the business of the distribution of oil. He told her of his first marriage and that ended in childbirth. A few years after his first wife’s death, he married again.
He spoke about registering for the draft at age 43 but was never called up into the Great War or its aftermath. He described being a farmer in California during the early 1920’s until the Great Depression hit. After that, he became a medium for both the common man and many individuals of greater wealth in Southern California.
There was little doubt that he offered her a pathway into the mystic arts, but he was also becoming something more. He was transcending into a possible advisor. His understanding…..his empathy…..were the attributes that interested her. He was becoming someone she could count on for sound guidance. Many hints and suggestions he had given her regarding her business were tested by her and the results were positive.
The sun had since voyaged to the western side of the mountains above the Lake and the shadows that crept through the windows were long and dark.
Hermana, as she was called by her gardener, moved back across the room and switched on the light on the table below the window. The light cascaded across the room, almost in slow motion. It first illuminated the carpet and then stretched into the corners. But it’s small bulb could not fully extinguish the darkest recesses. She wondered if they should meet in this room with the two large Mission chairs covered in leather or perhaps go to her favorite place in the tower. She would decide when he arrived.
She thought about maybe stoking the fire but decided that would create too much warmth in this room. She would sit in one of the chairs and patiently await the passage of these moments. She had completely forgotten about having a drink to calm her eagerness.
She sat in one of the chairs and took several deep breaths to center herself. He had taught her how to utilize this technique at moments of stress.
Once again, the concept of time passing had entered her mind. Although she was nearing her mid-forties, she had taken great pride in presenting herself as an attractive woman. She spent time enhancing these female charms of outward appearance. The woman beneath the made-up enrichments was still one more day older and one day further from the attractiveness she had shown as a young woman.
Because she found her allures to be diminishing, she understood she needed to develop certain different skills to succeed in a man’s world. She desired that the men around her would value her for attributes beyond her beauty. She had certainly accomplished this with her ability to speak publicly. There was no doubt about that. Her real desire was to have her ability to think and reason to be acceptable to the men in her life.
Yes to be acceptable….but she also desired to be in control of this acceptance.
She felt that she was approaching these goals with her clairvoyant. He treated her as an equal during the time they spent together. She had sensed his frustration on a couple of occasions. But they usually got back on a par in a short period of time. Once again, she expectantly looked forward to their consultation this day.