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Speculative Fiction (New Weird) Author

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Twilight Zone

Tail Gunner

November 27, 2015 by fpdorchak

Tail Gunner, B-17G, Liberty Belle
Tail Gunner, B-17G, Liberty Belle

My first installment of short stories has a lot of history behind it, if you’ll pardon the pun. This story’s journey started way back in late 2009. It’s a metaphysical one, for sure. It was a story I just couldn’t shake. It eventually found itself published twice, once in the Oct 2011 issue #103 of The Black Sheep, and more recently in the 2012 Longmont, Colorado Public Library anthology, “The You Belong Collection: Writings and Illustrations from Longmont Area Residents.” This WWII story is near and dear to my heart and features a character, The Man With No Name, who is in two of my novels, Sleepwalkers  (you can get it cheaper here) and Psychic.

Tail Gunner

© F. P. Dorchak, 2010/12

1

All chatter was ripped from his ears.

The airman’s body slammed forward into the B-17’s twisting and turning airframe.

An explosion.

Ungodly ripping sound.

Had grabbed for something—but it’d been knocked from his hands.

Wind howled and screamed. Stability and straight-and-level had given way to

Falling.

Ground-sky.

Ground-sky….

Crazy spinning.

With some effort—his head feeling as if it had just gained a thousand pounds—the airman twisted it and watched as spent .50-cal machine-gun rounds, paper, and loose equipment were sucked out the gaping hole behind him.

He turned his head back around and found himself looking

Down.

His stomach lurched and the feeling reminded him of Coney Island roller coasters—or the Wonder Wheel—just as you rounded the top and were on the way

Down.

Ground-sky!

His body thrown forward, the airman shot his hands out to the frame of the

(roller coaster)

aft window before him.

Down…

Ground-sky!

Ground-sky!

Still going down….

Opened his mouth to scream—but, all expression had been brutally pulped out of him. Was buffeted by flak, exploding flak everywhere. All of his twenty-two years of life clenched up into his throat in one great, choking, knot.

Body pressed into the Browning machine guns and tail window, he looked into flak-filled airspace as he plummeted past the rest of the formation for German soil. He couldn’t breathe, only managing shallow, short, rapid gasps.

His eyes locked with the horrified eyes of the bombardier in the nose of another B-17 he just barely missed as he plunged past. Eyes he’d recognized. Eyes that’d shared cigarettes and stories and pictures of their girls the night before with a dozen or more other pairs of eyes at a dimly lit bar counter.

His vision swam. Blurred. Vertigo scrambled his senses.

Falling.

Couldn’t breathe!

Dropping out of the sky!

Plummeting!

Sunlight.

Sunlight traced a path where it shouldn’t have been able to trace a path. Ran across the now-exposed deck that now ran between him and 30,000 feet of oblivion.

His body shuddered and convulsed against buffeting the separated empennage took on its heretical plunge earthward. A sound escaped him that didn’t sound like anything he’d ever uttered during his entire short lifespan. Still couldn’t see straight. Stared down the short metal tunnel where there should be—by all rights—the body of a B-17 and nine other guys. Pilots, bombardier, waist gunners—

Nothing.

Gone! All of it!

If he could just jump…free himself from the anchor that was dragging him down. Parachute into—

No parachute!

Along with all the paper, shells, and loose equipment, he’d watched with soul-sickening horror as his parachute had also flown out that gaping hole. It had been knocked from his fumbling grasp after he’d been banged up against the bulkhead when the tail had separated from the fuselage.

A great weight pressed into him.

Unable to move.

Pinned!

This wasn’t supposed to happen! Was only supposed to happen to other crews—Germans, not his crew—not him.

It was over. All over!

Screamed down, ever down, out of the bruised and battle-damaged sky.

Down…

Ground-sky…

Down!

Again slammed against the bulkhead. The .50 cals.

Only seconds ago he’d been operating dual M2 Browning machine guns. Yeah, it had all been a game. Target practice, they’d called it. Get them before they got you. But they hadn’t been clay pigeons, had they? Towed targets? No, they’d been flesh and blood humans just like him. Also trying to get him before he got them.

Now he knew.

Knew what they knew.

What it felt like to be hit.

What it felt like to go down.

Ground-sky.

Ground-sky…

Wild, wicked, absolutely unhindered tumbling. Spinning and gyrating. End over end. No control.

Unable to breathe.

Unable to see straight. Focus.

Light.

A bright light.

Sunlight?

His folks…his girl…his sister.

He stared into the light.

What would it feel like to slam into scorched earth? Bombed-out buildings? Would he know it? The moment of impact? Would he feel the hurt?

What would it feel like to just blink out of existence? To one moment be alive and thinking and conscious and scared, and the next—

The light.

A hand emerged.

He grabbed it.

2

Noise…lots of screaming and yelling and howling and

Music?

“Ticket, please,” the middle-aged gentleman in flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots greeted, hand outstretched.

The airman looked down to his own hand. In its white-knuckled death-grip it held a ticket stub. His entire arm and hand—his body—were tensed and hurting and trembling. He wasn’t breathing, his body as if in the constricting grip of a giant, angry malevolence trying to squeeze the life out of him.

“Ticket, please,” the gentleman again asked, still reaching out.

The airmen handed it over. As soon as he relinquished the ticket, he inhaled long and deep. Collapsed toward the dirt and dust—when the ticket taker caught him.

“Welcome to Coney Island!”

The airman looked up incredulously and out of breath. It hurt to breathe. “Where am I?”

“Coney Island.”

“Where?” he again asked, swallowing hard and with great difficulty. His body hung limply in the ticket taker’s hold. He slowly got back on his feet.

“Why, you’re at Coney Island, young sir! The greatest amusement park on Earth!”

“I…I don’t feel right—”

The airman shook his head, then steadied himself; looked to his attire. It wasn’t much different than the ticket taker’s.

“Where’s…where’s my jacket, my—”

He brought a hand to his head. No leather shearling cap. “I feel like I fell…or am still—”

“Oh, you’re quite all right, sir. Just come on in,” the ticket taker said. “Everything’s A-OK!” He winked.

The airman looked beyond the smiling gentleman.

“Wow…haven’t been here since—”

“Forty-one. Nineteen-forty-one.”

“Yeah…nineteen-forty-one,” he echoed, still having difficulty swallowing and trying to catch his breath.

“We got all the rides! The Cyclone, Shooting-the-Chutes, Flip Flop, Wonder Wheel, the Human Pool Table! Come on in! Enjoy!” the greeter said. With a flourish of hands, he sidestepped to allow the airman entry.

“Place looks empty,” the airman said.

“Private party.”

The airman turned to the ticket taker. Just looked at him. His oddly smiling—calming—face.

“You might find some people you know,” the ticket taker enunciated deliberately, motioning him in farther.

Calliope music, flashing lights. The smell of hotdogs, popcorn, and cotton candy filled the air—

Boom!

The airman spun around.

Boom! Boom!

Detonations exploded all around him.

Concussions.

Unnerving. Distant. Behind everything….

The airman turned back around and

 

remembered sitting at a bar one day, talking to two kids, really, that’s all they were. Kids in uniform. Nineteen-year olds. Fires all hot and burning in their fervent, youthful eyes. Displayed not an ounce of fear. “C’mon,” they’d goaded, all full of righteous hubris, “it’s fun!” They’d been gunners, one a tail the other a waist gunner.

“Fun.” That’s what they’d said…the word they’d used.

Fun.

“Like shootin skeet, only it’s Germans!” they’d proclaimed. “Godless, evil, Krauts. Goddamned Jerries.”

They’d needed bodies, they’d told him, anyone willing to fly. Bombers.

He knew why, he wasn’t stupid. They were getting blown out of the sky.

That’s why.

Yet he’d volunteered. Long wondered about those two.

Flexible Gunnery School. That had been his next stop, since he’d already been in the Army Air Corps.

Aim well. Shoot straight.

That had been their motto. Las Vegas in the summer. Six weeks. They had to be good or they’d be dead. It was that simple. They’d started with BB guns. With shotguns, worked their way up through stationary and mobile skeet shooting. Went from blasting away off the backs of moving flatbeds to towed targets from behind AT-6 aircraft, at Indian Springs. Turret training.

Stripping a .50 cal blindfolded.

Aircrew training.

Deployment.

Berlin. Kiel. Kassel.

Hanover. Eberhausen.

Regensburg….

 

“Where am I, really” the airman asked?

He sat atop the Ferris Wonder Wheel, just before the zenith of its travel. The ticket taker sat opposite him. Intently eyeballed him.

“I can’t really be here. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh, you’re here, all right,” the ticket taker said, in a voice far more subdued—concerned—than upon their first meeting. “This is real, I assure you a that, son.”

The Ferris wheel moved up an increment…stopped.

“Last time I was here, I was with my family. Where are they?”

“Oh, they’re still where they’re at.”

“Why aren’t they here? Where’s my—”

“You’re girl? They’re all still where they are. They haven’t arrived. Yet.”

“But they will?”

The ticket taker nodded, keeping his eyes intently focused on him. “In time.”

“I used to love the view from up here.”

“What’s wrong with it, now?”

“It just doesn’t feel right.”

The wheel moved up another increment. They were now on top, wind caressing his face and whispering in his ears.

“It used to be fun,” the airman said, growing antsy.

The ticket taker continued studying him.

“Where are those two guys? You know?” the airman asked, leaning a little over the side as he looked behind and

Down.

He quickly sat back in his seat.

“Oh, they’re around. Someplace.”

The airmen nodded pensively. Couldn’t sit still. Chatter…there was chatter in his head…

“Three of ’em, one o’clock high—”

“Four planes nine o’clock—”

“They’re comin’ around—”

“Got my sights on him—”

“I’m on him…come on, you sonofa—”

Engine drone.

Buffeting.

The car began its descent, when the airman fumbled madly for something that wasn’t there and grabbed the side of the car.

Hyperventilated.

Instantly coated in sweat.

“Fighters at eleven o’clock, comin’ around!”

“I got ’em! I got ’em!”

“Two Fighters—six o’clock up! Comin’ in, divin’ at ya!”

Boom!

There was a sudden lurch and a much pronounced bump—and the wheel stopped in a harsh downward jerk, sending the car wildly oscillating back and forth—

Boom!

The airman stopped breathing and white-knuckled the swinging car. He looked to the ticket taker in wide-eyed terror.

Boom! Boom!

The ticket taker gave him a soft, sympathetic look, then looked off into the distance.

Falling.

Down.

Ground-sky!

Always down!

The airman closed his eyes.

Continued hyperventilating.

Wind.

This is it!

Tumbling.

It!

.50 cal pressed into his back…

Boom! Boom!

No chute!

Gaping hole into a damaged sky still full of released bombs and bombers and flak and falling airmen….

He opened reddened and tear-stained eyes and looked to the ticket taker.

“It’s over, isn’t it? For me! This is it! This is it!”

Continued hyperventilating.

The wheel advanced another position.

The ticket taker looked to him and smiled. Leaned forward and gently took a hand into his. Held it for a long moment.

“But you’re here. Look at me. Here.”

The airman’s breathing slowed, but not completely.

Distant concussions…explosions…ground-sky….

“But I’m also there, too, aren’t I? Still falling—o-or dead! I don’t understand all this—don’t know how—but it’s true, isn’t it? True.”

The ticket taker nodded.

“Why all of it? Why the need for any of it?”

The ticket taker said nothing.

The airman again swallowed. Wiped away tears with the backs of shaking wrists. Inhaled deeply.

They descended another position.

“It’s so sad, you know,” he said, finally slowing his breathing and clearing his throat.

“I know.”

“That we do…all that. The loss. The…the—”

“Pain.”

The airman looked out into the dark distance in silence. Tears streamed down his face. He did not wipe them.

“It wasn’t fun, you know. Not any of it. Not at all. Not for me.”

“I know.”

The car advanced several more positions and came to a stop at ground level. After a moment, the ticket taker smiled and stepped out of the car.

The airman looked to the feet of the ticket taker. Listened and watched intently as his heels impacted the earth and ground and pressed into dirt.

“It’s time, my friend,” the ticket taker said.

The airman blinked. Nodded. “Yeah. Suppose it is.”

“Nothing stays the same, son.”

The airman stepped out of the car. The instant he touched soil there was a loud concussion and his knees gave out. The ticket taker again came to his aid, but the airman waved him off. Straightened up.

“I’m fine—thank you.”

Fought back tears.

The airman ran his hands through his short, dark hair; composed himself. Looked around. There were lots of lights, music, running rides…the smell of grilled food.

“They’re around, here—somewhere? Those two?”

“Yup,” the ticket taker said. “They all are.”

“All of them? Even—”

“Everyone’s here, my friend. Both sides.”

The airman again stared off into the distance. Exhaled long and hard.

“So…what now? What’s beyond there?” he asked, still looking off into the night.

The ticket taker chuckled softly. “There’s no hurry. Walk around…take in the place. Enjoy a ride or two. Cotton candy. Meet up with some of your buddies…and others,” the ticket taker said. “There’s absolutely no hurry.”

“And after that?”

“After that…we can talk. Some more. We have all the time in world. All we have, here, is time.”

“Time.”

The airman reached out and the ticket taker took his hand. They shook in a firm, heartfelt shake that didn’t let go.

“Thank you,” the airman said, and

3

the tail section of the shattered B-17 oscillated and gyrated and spun end over end all the way down through 30,000 feet…until it landed in the bombed-out ruins of what used to be a German apartment building. The parachute-less tail gunner who’d been pinned inside had been far from alone as he and the empennage impacted.

 

Short Story Links

Links to all my posted short stories are here.

 

 

Filed Under: Leisure, Metaphysical, Reincarnation, Short Story, Spooky, To Be Human, Writing Tagged With: Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress, Psychic, Short Stories, Sleepwalkers, Tail Gunner, The Man With No Name, Ticket Taker, Twilight Zone, writing

Boldt Castle – Upstate New York Vacation 2014 – Part 3 of 4

September 1, 2014 by fpdorchak

Boldt Castle, St. Lawrence Seaway (Aug 13, 2014)
Boldt Castle, St. Lawrence Seaway (Aug 13, 2014)

Our next adventure in upstate New York, was a trip to Boldt Castle, via a boat tour on the St. Lawrence Seaway.

Curiously, I “found” this while posting images to my next “work in progress” Pinterest board (the week prior to our vacation, no less)…looking for things-mansion. When I posted it, I thought, huh, this place sounds familiar…then one of my “Virtual Friends” (from Twitter and a fellow blogger), Paul Gallagher, pointed out that Boldt Castle was the location that Rod Serling (come on, did you really need to check that link?!) had considered using for a post-Twilight Zone series that never got off the ground, called “Rod Serling’s Wax Museum.” Curiously, throughout the entire tour, not one thing was mentioned about Rod Serling’s possible use of this place.

Well, now that I knew what I’d found, I had to go see it, right?

Boldt Castle sits on an island, Heart Island, which had been reworded from “Hart” to “Heart,” by George C. Boldt, who was a turn-of-the-century millionaire proprietor to New York City’s Waldorf Astoria hotel. You might have heard of it. The island lies in the middle of an area of the St. Lawrence River, called “The Thousand Islands (actually there are a little over 1800 islands).” To get to Boldt Castle, one has to take a boat. So, I learned there are boat tours of the 1000 Islands. I found that Uncle Sam Tours offers multiple tours of the riverway. We opted for the two-and-a-quarter hour 2-Nation Tour. This international tour (through American and Canadian waters, no passport required) had a little of everything, and is a 22-mile tour-guided round-trip. It includes the “heart” of the 1000 Islands and Millionaire’s Row. All tours end with a stop at Boldt Castle, where you can stay as long as you like, up to closing time, hopping whatever boats (shuttle or tour boat) are available for the return trip to Alexandria Bay.

So, out we headed for 47 James Street, Alexandria Bay!

The Bow of the Tour Boat, St. Lawrence River (Aug 13, 2014)
The Bow of the Tour Boat, St. Lawrence River (Aug 13, 201

The weather was gorgeous, and we boarded our boat, a double-decker paddle wheel whatever-you-call-those-things. I honestly don’t know if the paddle wheel was for show or not, but it was cool to watch. We sat up top, in the open air, where our college grad-headed-to-med-school tour guide guided us through the international waters. He was outgoing, seemed knowledgeable, and was humorous. I wondered what kinda doctor he’d make. Here are some cool videos of some of the Uncle Sam tours.

As we floated along the St. Lawrence, we learned all these famous names we’d heard about over the years had places up here. “Old money” is on the U.S. side, “New Money” on the Canadian side. But, don’t ask me to recite any of these names, because, well, I’m not exactly known for my memory (I’m more known for my “charm”…). And I (so far) can’t find one danged listing of them!

Really? None of this is listed anywhere?

Some curious facts we found were that the St. Lawrence River has some of the cleanest waters in the US (Canada wasn’t mentioned, so I assume Canada has cleaner waters than the US…everywhere…). Our Knowledgeable Tour Guide (KTG) ran on and on about how you could literally dip a cup over the side of this boat and drink what you pulled up. Then KTG said he, however, wouldn’t do it (KTG had a degree in biochemistry, or something), for two reasons: 1) seagulls, b) swimmers. He’d also gone into more detail about in the early years of people (and by “people” I mean millionaires) moving into the area and building abodes, going into great detail about how the sewage system of the day was “drinking up-stream, dumping downstream.”

Think about that for juuust a second.

In his words “gross.”

Here I am applying my newly acquired skill of Walking on Water. Funny, haven't been able to duplicate this feat, since....
Here I am applying my newly acquired skill of Walking on Water. Funny, haven’t been able to duplicate this feat, since….

Another interesting point our guide mentioned was that “recently” National Geographic had redefined the definition of an “island” to a spot of land at least three-foot square, with at least one tree and another form of vegetation. He mentioned this because he took us past the smallest of the islands in the “Thousand Island” chain. It wasn’t much larger than three square feet, by the looks of it. He also told us that the person who owned that island had insured the lone tree on it for $50,000. Wow. Now, curiously, when I went looking for the NatGeo island definition online, I didn’t find it. I do find it interesting that KTG said an island had to have a tree and vegetation.

We were also shown the shortest stretch of distance between international waters (between two islands), but by the time our KTG had sprinted out of the Wheel House to announce it, we (who had been at the bow of the boat) had already gone past, and nonprofessional digital cameras just don’t operate that quickly, so we missed the shot.

On our return trip, we actually passed by a huge cargo ship, called the Thunder Bay. I did a search and found this video, which shows the Thunder Bay entering Lock 7, Welland Canal (I’m assuming it’s the same ship—it looks like what we passed [I saw the name on its bow]—finding it hard to believe there’d be two ships in the same country with the same name…). Though this lock is between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, this is what the “famousity” of the St. Lawrence River is all about, so take a look at this link. Look at how close that ship is inside the lock’s walls.

Boldt Castle Docking Coming Up! (Aug 13, 2014)
Boldt Castle Docking Coming Up! (Aug 13, 2014)

As the boat tour ran to its end and we docked a Heart Island, the next phase of our visit explored Boldt Castle (click here for their facebook page). We only had two hours, because it closed at 7:30. This limited exploration time, if you can believe it. We didn’t get to the Power House at the other end of the island, which is the mini-castle with the curved stone bridge, in the slide show, below.

I’m not gonna duplicate effort, so check this link out for a short description of George C. Boldt and his castle efforts, but it is tragic to note that he abandoned the castle after the love of his life, Louise Augusta Kehrer Boldt, died at 42 years of age, of tuberculosis.

We spent most of our time exploring the main castle. It was quite grand (not a term I use much, outside of “grandparents,” “grand piano,” or “delusions of grandeur“), especially with the center piece of the staircase, which reminded me of the Titanic‘s staircase. The public is able to go from the cellar (or “foundation”) to the top floor (fourth), where the “Help” stayed. Boldt and his family were to have used the second floor. Very nice rooms! Throughout most of the place are placards giving you a bit of its history, which, again, I had to bypass, due to our limited time there, though I did read some of it. My wife and I spent some time on one of the stone observation decks (a “battlement”!) of the castle, overlooking the St. Lawrence. We were lucky not to have been disturbed by other tourists, so it was quite cool hanging out there, in the breezes—in a castle, for crying out loud—on a battlement overlooking our kingdom…I mean, well…come on, you get it….

To think of the opulence, the—how did my wife put it?—extravagance that this guy lavished upon his wife. The wild use of money to build something like this, that was, in all reality, frivolous. Did one need a castle in which to live? No. But, man, how frigging cool!

The castle was modeled after 16th century northern European buildings, but with “newly revived classical details of the time.” It rises six stories from the foundation level, and even had an elevator! It contained 127 rooms. It goes without saying (but I’m gonna say it anyway) that it’s near fireproof with steel and concrete roofs and floors, not to mention massive granite walls!

Directly above the Grand Staircase was a stained glass dome. When we got to the top-most floor, we were able to see the other side of

The Grand Staircase, Boldt Castle (Aug 13, 2014)
The Grand Staircase, Boldt Castle (Aug 13, 2014)

the dome and how it was fitted into the ceiling. I’ve heard it might not be original material, but can’t corroborate that. A couple of times as I looked out a window, or stood out on a battlement (I like saying that: battlement), certain parts of the castle architecture just grabbed me—simply amazing work! There were four floors and what I call the cellar, but is here termed “the foundation.” The first, or ground floor is where all the entertainment and dining (and where I carefully but stupidly placed my camera on top of the dining table in a moment of Not Thinking, and was correctly though subtly scolded by a polite staff member; still can’t believe I did that! See! vacations make people stupid!) and living went on. Reception rooms, billiard room, Mr. Boldt’s office, library, et cetera. The second floor was where the Boldt family was to have lived, their sleeping “chambers” (George and Louise were to have had separate rooms), bathrooms, kids’ rooms, guest rooms, et cetera. The Third floor was similar to the second floor, but didn’t have access to the Grand Staircase (used side stairs to access). The fourth floor held the skylight dome and the servants’ quarters, observation decks (battlements, yea, battlements!), reading room, stairs to the tower (closed) and some really weird little room, called “the loft.” Reminded me of the creepy Oliver Reed movie, The Shuttered Room, though it really didn’t look like it. Stream-of-consciousness. Go figger.

As to “the cellar,” or “foundation” of the castle, here was an indoor swimming pool (full of tossed coinage) and other areas we also didn’t have adequate time to explore. One set of passages I reeeally wanted to walk, got lost in the shuffle of everything else to see, would have made the coolest shot, but, alas, turned out blurry when I got home: it was a servant’s underground passageway. It was where all the goods were transported from barges to the storage rooms without having to use the main floor. It also housed the electrical and wiring and water pipes from the Power House we weren’t able to see. It was sooo spooky, I really wanted to walk it! Dang it!

Vacations.

Making people stupid.

We walked through the Italian Garden a little, and found some really vibrant flowers, the pictures of which simply do not do it justice. Went inside the first structure on the island, the Dove-Cote. It’s a stone tower topped with a pigeon house, or “Hennery,” where they collected “fancy fowl.”

Fancy tastes.

Fancy fowl.

“Fancy.”

I like saying that, too.

We visited the Alster Tower, or “playhouse,” at the opposite side of the island from the Power House. This was a cool stone tower that was only partially opened to the public; the upper parts (where I wanted to go…curiously just noting a trend, here…) were closed off due to construction. This structure is said to have most likely been inspired by an old defense tower along the Alster River that flowed through Hamburg, Germany. The brochure says that it was most probably not planned, i.e., put to blue prints, but “evolved” as it was built. This mini-castle was occasionally occupied by the Boldt family as their main castle was being constructed.

The Arch, Boldt Castle (Aug 13, 2014)
The Arch, Boldt Castle (Aug 13, 2014)

One of the coolest things on the island, was The Arch. This was modeled after Roman monuments, and was a “water gate” that was to be the formal entry for launches and delivering guests from the larger yachts anchored out in the deeper waters. It has three bucks (“deer,” not “currency”; displaying currency would just be pretentious) atop it. It was supposed to have more work done to it, like a drawbridge and a covered walk, but, of course all that was halted with the abandoning of the entire Boldt Castle project, upon Louise’s death.

Across the water, at Wellesley Island, is The Yacht House, where the family’s three yachts and houseboat were stored. We didn’t go there, simply not enough time! But, the slips there are 128 feet long, and the main space rises some 64 feet high. The huge doors are so heavy that a special engine was installed to operate them. Quarters for crews and maintenance staff were also included here. Interesting fact: The Yacht House was the first of these Boldt buildings to be listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

When Louise Boldt passed away mere months before the completion of the castle, George Boldt was a wreck. He immediately halted all castle construction and the property had been allowed to fall into disuse and gone vacant for some 73 years. For those 73 years, the castle and its other structures had been left exposed to harsh winters and vandals, but in 1977  the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority acquired Heart Island and the nearby Yacht House for a whole buck (here, I do mean “currency” and not “deer”)…under an agreement that all revenue from the castle’s operation would be applied towards its restoration. This would allow for the island to be preserved…for the enjoyment of all.

It has never been the goal to completely rebuild Boldt Castle…only to bring it back to the state it was when George had abandoned it. Some improvements have gone beyond that state, but I’m not sure which ones are included there (I’ve read on Wiki that maybe the stained glass, the marble floor, and the Grand Staircase). But to see this feat of human engineering and design is to be in awe of the love between two people…and the imagination of a man who wanted to please his love.

Love can move mountains and build castles…but it can also shatter hearts. It is tragic that Mr. Boldt couldn’t stand to be at the castle after Louise’s loss—I get it—but at least, now, we can all experience not only his bucks, but his amazing imagination…and his love for his wife, because I really do feel (as much as I joke about it) this project was not about any display of opulence or power…but about a display of an intense and undying love.

Check out this really nice short video of the aerial view of all I’ve described at Boldt Castle.

Boldt Castle Brochure.

Boldt Castle Map.

Next post: the St. John in the Wilderness Cemetery.

 

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  • One Painting…Two Dogs (fpdorchakrealitycheck.wordpress.com)
  • Ausable Chasm – Upstate New York Vacation 2014 – Part 2 of 4 (fpdorchak.wordpress.com)

 

Filed Under: Fun, Leisure, To Be Human Tagged With: 1000 Islands, 2 Nation Tour, Boldt Castle, George C. Boldt, Hart Island, Heart Island, Island, Louise Augusta Kehrer Boldt, Millionaire’s Row, Paul Gallagher, Pinterest, Rod Serling, Rod Serling's Wax Museum, St. Lawrence River, The Thunder Bay, The Yacht House, Thousand Islands, Twilight Zone, Twitter, Uncle Sam Tours, upstate New York, Vacation

Upstate New York Vacation 2014 – Part 1 of 4

August 23, 2014 by fpdorchak

What Much Of Where I Lived and Where We Drove Looks Like! (Aug 2014)
What Much Of Where I Lived and Where We Drove Looks Like! (Aug 2014)

Yesterday (as I began this post, on Tuesday, August 19th), my wife and I returned from our trip to upstate New York to see my Dad and stepmom. The trip itself was great, we got to be with family, air out, see some more of upstate NY—you know, all the things vacations are supposed to be about—but the trip to and back was more of something out of “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles“!

We took red-eye flights. Haven’t done that in many, many, years. Our flights on the way out were not bad, but the return trip had us having to stay the night at a hotel in the D.C. area. We flew into and out of the Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Aéroport de Montréal (pronounced “Muh-ree-all”), Canada, something we’ve done in the past, but “done in the past” was, wow, 15-20 years ago, now that I try to put a number on it! Besides the obvious changes, the Canadian roadway changed dramatically…no longer was there that gnarly interchange out of the airport that I missed the last time out. Now, once you get out of the airport, it wasn’t nearly that bad, and when you factor in that we had been picked up and dropped off, that part was stellar! We didn’t rent a car, because to have done so would have cost us over $600! Good Lord, as much as plane fare! The rates themselves weren’t too bad, but, once you added in all the “fees” and “taxes”…then throw in Canadian “fees and taxes”…we about gagged! Do check all those add-ins when making rental car reservations, especially in another country. I mean, I like Canada, but, wow, holy crap on the car rentals, my northern friends!

We left late on a Friday night, to land in O’Hare, at oh-later-thirty, where we spent almost five hours waiting for our connecting flight

O'Hare Airport Slightly Left of 2 a.m. (Aug 9, 2014)
O’Hare Airport Slightly Left of 2 a.m. (Aug 9, 2014)

to Montréal in the early morning, eh? I finally saw a side to O’Hare that I actually liked: the after hours. Yeah, it truly does empty out! When we exited our plane and prepared to “bed down” for the night, one of the airline personnel did a really cool thing after talking with us: she returned with blankets that she handed out to all of us who had to stay the night in the terminal! Thank you, Really Swell Gate Attendant!

So, we took our blankets and sought out a place to lay down (hint: you can ask airline personnel for the least bothered, more quiet gates to bed down in), and hunkered down for the next four or so hours. I read Stephen King’s Doctor Sleep while my wife “slept.” For our last hour, I lay down and closed my eyes, but not sure I really “slept,” either. In any event, I haven’t stayed overnight in an airport since, wow, the College Years? But I really liked how the place empties out and goes “Twilight Zone” in the after hours (by the way also the name of a Twilight Zone episode).

Once we made it to New York, we had a great time, and did some hiking through Ausable Chasm, took a St. Lawrence boat tour of the rich and famous through “The Thousand Islands,” checked out Boldt Castle, and stopped by a couple upstate university book stores where I dropped off some of my novels for their book buyers to hopefully like enough to stock. We also checked out a salmon fish hatchery I used to bike down to as a kid (just outside of Lake Clear). Did our usual drive-bys of Barnum Pond, Lake Clear, Saranac Lake, and Lake Placid.  Drove through the Keene Valley area. Visited the St. John’s in the Wilderness cemetery, where I know some of those interred. We even saw some fireworks! And of course: Donnelly’s Corner’s ice cream (where I saw the heinous act of a lady taking a lick of her cone, then tossing it into a trash can! Where’s NY State’s Finest when you need em?). Donnelly’s is the best soft ice cream anywhere!

And…there was even one possibly paranormal—definitely weird—event involving two dogs, one of them living. Wow. It still blows my mind, but more on that (and all the other mentioned activities) later….

As for the return trip, we arrived back at the Pierre Elliott Trudeau International aéroport Monday, around 2:20 ET. The long and the short of it was…we didn’t leave the airport until after midnight.

The Gate We Were "86'd" To at Aéroport de Montréal (Aug 18, 2014)
The Gate We Were “86’d” To at Aéroport de Montréal (Aug 18, 2014)

Instead of O’Hare, on our return trip we were connecting through Dulles. But as we checked the airport monitors, we noticed our flight to Dulles wasn’t even displayed. It turned out that our plane was late getting into Dulles because of mechanical and weather issues. Nothing one can do about that. And to the “Angry Business Man Who Used the F-Word” who’d been in front of me at a gate attendant counter, you can’t blame the gate attendants! Seriously? This was your first rodeo, Mr. salt-and-peppered-hair, Angry-Business-Man-Who-Used-the-F-Word? Note to you: if you really were that important, I think you would have been on a charter flight. You wouldn’t be in that airport with all the rest of us “little people” taking standard commercial flights. But…to the Calm and Professional Gate Attendant (who told Mr. Angry-Business-Man-Who-Used-the-F-Word to “please watch your language”): you handled it most excellently, sir! International kudos to you!

Note to Pierre Elliott Trudeau International passengers: if your flights are delayed into that airport, they are removed from the flight schedules and the departure monitors, so they might not show up quickly enough on the monitors when delayed. I was also told that there are curfews in Canadian airports, but if flights continued to come and go, you’re allowed to stay, like we were, but otherwise, come curfew time, you will be exited from the airport to a hotel—at the airlines’ expense. The airlines will also give you meal vouchers. We received both. As we hung out at the aéroport , we ate on the airlines dime and met some interesting folk and had some good conversation! Thanks, “John” and “Unnamed Denver IT Dude”!

Another note: though you are given meal and hotel vouchers, if you refuse the hotel voucher and stay the night at the airport, you are

Anonymous Terminal Passenger at Aéroport de Montréal (Aug 18, 2014)
Anonymous Terminal Passenger at Aéroport de Montréal (Aug 18, 2014)

supposed to be given a $150 voucher. No one will tell you this, you have to ask (don’t let them try to tell you “they want you to get some rest” before your next flight, if you feel you can stay up; they just don’t want to pay out the dough, is what is really happening, here). And, I believe, it has to be used within 24 hours. That’s all I know, since we didn’t do this, but saw another who did do this. Also, you can be real “slick” and write your requests on a piece of paper instead of talking out loud and alerting other passengers to this little known fact—or anything else you might try to “bargain” for at the gate attendant counters. Doesn’t mean you’ll get any of it, but it might make the attendants feel better that you understand their plight in dealing with all the angry and inconvenienced passengers (if that kinda thing matters to you) and keep your bargaining secret (our hotel voucher was $73. Yeah, try to get a room for that price, without missing a flight, and you see it’s all cheaper than paying out $150 per person)!

We had to make a decision: stay the night in Montréal or in D.C. Thing was, even if we caught our flight out to Dulles, there were no connections until the next morning. Since we’d have to go back through Customs, if we stayed in Montréal, and were told in no uncertain terms that many actually do miss their early morning flights because of Customs (the lines can be quite long, as we witnessed during our near ten hours at P. E. Trudeau), we opted to get outta Dodge and make Dulles. So we did, and in Dulles were given a hotel room, where we caught less than three hours of sleep before we had to make it back to Dulles for the whole TSA ritual, once again. Here, I had to walk through the metal detector 3 or 4 times, because, it turned out, I had a foil wrapped stick of gum in my pocket. Yay. I was surprised I wasn’t strip searched after the second time, to be quite honest. Then my pack had been detained, because, I’d forgotten to dump the water from my water bottle, but other than that, we used our meal vouchers to grab some chow before out flight.

So, we boarded out plane, and quickly realized…we’re in the very last row. You know, the seats that do not recline. And are right in front of the galley.

And the restrooms.

Yes, we’re on first-name basis with every butt on that flight. Just sayin.

I detail all the above, and it might sound rough and sucky, but we really had a fun time, met some interesting people, and took it as much in stride as anyone can on little sleep, and chalked it up to yet another “life experience”; it really wasn’t that bad, and the Aéroport de Montréal is really nice. I like airports and aircraft, like being around them.

The "After Hours" at Aéroport de Montréal (Aug 18, 2014)
The “After Hours” at Aéroport de Montréal (Aug 18, 2014)

One other thing: before we left for the trip, I had watched a little of the Twilight Zone episode, “Mirror Image.” When I returned from our trip and watched the rest of the episode, it struck me how predictive that little episode was! In it, Millicent Barnes misses her bus because of a “key event”…and on our return trip we ended up missing our connection. It can also be applied to my next post, on my Reality Check blog, titled, One Painting…Two Dogs. Okay, maybe to you it’s “a reach,” but to me not so. I don’t believe in coincidences [that are ignored as not important]…I believe in synchronicity and that everything’s tied to everything else. Don’t ignore all those little events in life!

We had a great time in NY, and, to be honest, if was kinda fun not knowing what would happen and when and living in the moment, with all these flight gyrations. Sure, no one likes to be inconvenienced, but I took the “time” to consciously live in the moment and enjoy whatever came our way. Go with the flow. As my wife napped (no one every really sleeps in airports, or so the saying goes…) I reveled in the Twilight Zone-like atmosphere of the fast emptying airports, soaked up the “deserted ambiance,” and read my King novel. Walked the emptied halls and gates. Observed all the in-the-background maintenance folks who come out at night…or who are summarily ignored and “unobserved” during the day, going about their jobs keeping things cleaned and stocked with toilet paper.

It was all good.

On Monday, check out my other blog, Reality Check, for a paranormal experience, titled, One Painting…Two Dogs. In the coming weeks I’ll post about Ausable Chasm, the St. Lawrence boat tour, Boldt Castle, and all the rest of the fun stuff we did!

Filed Under: Fun, Leisure, To Be Human, Writing Tagged With: After Hours, Ausable Chasm, Barnum Pond, Boldt Castle, Doctor Sleep, Donnelly's Corners, Dulles Airport, Lake Clear, Lake Placid, Montréal, O'Hare Airport, Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Aeroport, Saranac Lake, St. John's in the Wilderness Cemetery, St. Lawrence Seaway, Stephen King, Twilight Zone, upstate New York

Happy Hallowe'en!

October 31, 2013 by fpdorchak

Well, here we are—my favorite holiday!

And what does this holiday mean to me? Is it about candy or Jack-o’-lanterns or horror films or atmosphere? The hollow winds that blow through the trees?

Ghosts?

Well, yeaaahhh, kinda!

I love that on this day (and the month thereof, actually) people think a little more about their mortality, their origins. About…what may lie beyond the incredibly and insanely thin veil that separates us from…the unseen. The unknown. The paranormal and supernatural. I love it that one night of the year people of all cloths go door-to-door—at night!—announcing themselves, getting to know and meet their neighbors, all for a little fun and confection. I love it when people talk about the costumes they’re gonna wear. The candy they’re gonna serve, the parties they’re gonna attend or throw.

Set out carved and lit pumpkins.

And I especially love walking through cemeteries in the month of October.

It’s not some weird death fetish, instead it’s about a cool LIFE  appreciation!

Of course, I’m not into all the real death and decay in the grounds beneath our feet (>ick<), but I am into where those souls came from and to where they’ve departed. What is after death…before it? Surrounding it? What structure supports the lives we live. I think Hallowe’en—at least for me—highlights the paranormal in our lives, and in our physical world…it deals with life and death, where people are born and die. And that fascinates us all, because, sooner or later, we’ll all understand, in no uncertain terms, the well-worn phrase, “As you are now so once was I.” Maybe…maybe…it’s even that portion of us that is beyond our earthly veil, while we’re over here, and that is ever whispering to us that death is not the end….

I also love the atmosphere of Hallowe’en!

The playfulness, the “trick or treating”! Ghosts! I don’t usually dress up, but I love that others do! Take themselves a little less seriously on this one day of the year (I do this every day, so it’s interesting to see others try it)! Take their kids out to continue the tradition. I love to see what kids choose to dress up as, as they go house to house, begging for candy! The origins of trick-or-treating date back to the Celtic festival of Samhain, but it’s popularity didn’t soar in the US until after WWII, when sugar rationing was lifted. Many parents at the time opposed it, because they felt it encouraged begging and extortion! Oh, the horror!

And…I love horror movies!

Not the gory stuff that is the norm these days, but the more subtle and psychological ones. The older films that left much to the imagination. Now, of course, given the genre in general, you will and must have some gore (and boobs and blood, as fellow blogger Wendy writes about in her timely post!). A dead body or three. Again, it’s just what’s available in our physical existence to “play” off of, but there are avenues, like the Twilight Zone, that attack[ed] the subject beautifully, with more subtlety and class, like fellow blogger Paul writes about, and shows no gore. I grew up on both Hammer Films and Twilight Zone, not to mention everything in between. Some of my favorite movies have a little gore, and some don’t. Perhaps it has to do with a fascination with our physical forms…or the “fleeting physicality” of corporeal life, itself…but that fascination (as funneled through our physical brains which gives an “anchor” for our mind…) takes on the form it does, seems to like to show gore-laden bodies up on silver screens.  And people (mainly the young) flock to that. It’s a fascination. In any event, it’s just a hard thing to get away from gore in the genre…but what most all have, is atmosphere.

And I love atmosphere.

A lot.

So, Hallowe’en means many things to me, but it means fun, introspection, and atmosphere, and—along with Christmas—ranks as my favorite holiday. So, I hope you all enjoy the day and night, and have fun with it!

I also love lit Jack-o’-lanterns set out all over the place! This demure little fella happens to be ours.

Happy Hallowe’en, everyone!

Filed Under: Spooky, To Be Human Tagged With: Candy, Hallowe'en, Halloween II, Halloween III, Halloween movies, Horror film, Jack-o'-lantern, Silver Shamrock, Trick or Treat, Twilight Zone

Happy Hallowe’en!

October 31, 2013 by fpdorchak

Well, here we are—my favorite holiday!

And what does this holiday mean to me? Is it about candy or Jack-o’-lanterns or horror films or atmosphere? The hollow winds that blow through the trees?

Ghosts?

Well, yeaaahhh, kinda!

I love that on this day (and the month thereof, actually) people think a little more about their mortality, their origins. About…what may lie beyond the incredibly and insanely thin veil that separates us from…the unseen. The unknown. The paranormal and supernatural. I love it that one night of the year people of all cloths go door-to-door—at night!—announcing themselves, getting to know and meet their neighbors, all for a little fun and confection. I love it when people talk about the costumes they’re gonna wear. The candy they’re gonna serve, the parties they’re gonna attend or throw.

Set out carved and lit pumpkins.

And I especially love walking through cemeteries in the month of October.

It’s not some weird death fetish, instead it’s about a cool LIFE  appreciation!

Of course, I’m not into all the real death and decay in the grounds beneath our feet (>ick<), but I am into where those souls came from and to where they’ve departed. What is after death…before it? Surrounding it? What structure supports the lives we live. I think Hallowe’en—at least for me—highlights the paranormal in our lives, and in our physical world…it deals with life and death, where people are born and die. And that fascinates us all, because, sooner or later, we’ll all understand, in no uncertain terms, the well-worn phrase, “As you are now so once was I.” Maybe…maybe…it’s even that portion of us that is beyond our earthly veil, while we’re over here, and that is ever whispering to us that death is not the end….

I also love the atmosphere of Hallowe’en!

The playfulness, the “trick or treating”! Ghosts! I don’t usually dress up, but I love that others do! Take themselves a little less seriously on this one day of the year (I do this every day, so it’s interesting to see others try it)! Take their kids out to continue the tradition. I love to see what kids choose to dress up as, as they go house to house, begging for candy! The origins of trick-or-treating date back to the Celtic festival of Samhain, but it’s popularity didn’t soar in the US until after WWII, when sugar rationing was lifted. Many parents at the time opposed it, because they felt it encouraged begging and extortion! Oh, the horror!

And…I love horror movies!

Not the gory stuff that is the norm these days, but the more subtle and psychological ones. The older films that left much to the imagination. Now, of course, given the genre in general, you will and must have some gore (and boobs and blood, as fellow blogger Wendy writes about in her timely post!). A dead body or three. Again, it’s just what’s available in our physical existence to “play” off of, but there are avenues, like the Twilight Zone, that attack[ed] the subject beautifully, with more subtlety and class, like fellow blogger Paul writes about, and shows no gore. I grew up on both Hammer Films and Twilight Zone, not to mention everything in between. Some of my favorite movies have a little gore, and some don’t. Perhaps it has to do with a fascination with our physical forms…or the “fleeting physicality” of corporeal life, itself…but that fascination (as funneled through our physical brains which gives an “anchor” for our mind…) takes on the form it does, seems to like to show gore-laden bodies up on silver screens.  And people (mainly the young) flock to that. It’s a fascination. In any event, it’s just a hard thing to get away from gore in the genre…but what most all have, is atmosphere.

And I love atmosphere.

A lot.

So, Hallowe’en means many things to me, but it means fun, introspection, and atmosphere, and—along with Christmas—ranks as my favorite holiday. So, I hope you all enjoy the day and night, and have fun with it!

I also love lit Jack-o’-lanterns set out all over the place! This demure little fella happens to be ours.

Happy Hallowe’en, everyone!

Filed Under: Spooky, To Be Human Tagged With: Candy, Hallowe'en, Halloween II, Halloween III, Halloween movies, Horror film, Jack-o'-lantern, Silver Shamrock, Trick or Treat, Twilight Zone

Interview with “Mr. Twilight Zone” and His Gal Friday

September 15, 2013 by fpdorchak

"Five in the Fifth," © Wendy Brydge, 2013
“Five in the Fifth,” © Wendy Brydge, 2013

Paul Gallagher (aka, “Mr. Twilight Zone”) and Wendy Brydge (aka, “Gal Friday”) are two bloggers who explore the works of Rod Serling and his effect upon the Human Condition, with sometimes poignant, often insightful clarity, through their sites, Shadow & Substance and Seeker of Truth. I met them both through Twitter, discovered their blogs, and enjoy their passionate discourse. They have great insight into many aspects of The Twilight Zone, and are quite the enjoyable conversationalists. I frequently reblog their Twilight Zone posts. This is probably my longest interview yet (well, it is actually two interviews in one), but it was great fun working with the both of them, and in getting to know them better. I hope you feel the same! Thanks to Wendy for creating a special work of art just for this post (the “Five in the Fifth” graphic, above). Today, September 15th, is also the 52nd anniversary of the Twilight Zone episode, “Two,” this interview is posted today in honor of that.

Paul and Wendy, could you give us a short bio on yourselves?

Wendy: I’m a freelance commission artist, born, raised, and living in Northern Ontario, Canada. This would explain all of those unnecessary “u”s in my writing! I’m an avid reader (at least I enjoy reading when I have the time), and I’m known for taming the native wildlife: chipmunks, squirrels, a gaggle of chickadees, and a crossfox. I am the self-proclaimed “Seeker of Truth.” Research is my middle name—I study a little bit of everything. I wear my faith as a Christian proudly, often highlighting it through my art. Vampires are my weakness—books, films, lore, history—and when I’m not painting, I’m writing. Or “Gal Fridaying” for Paul!

Paul: I’m in the freelance business as well, albeit on the writing side of things. I’ve had articles appear in most major newspapers and on many websites. I also have a full-time job as an editor for a large non-profit organization in Washington, D.C.—one that has nothing to do with Rod Serling! I’ve lived in the D.C. area all my life and enjoy writing about a variety of topics: history (American Civil War history in particular), films, books, movies and music, both rock and classical. Besides Serling, I have a passion for the music of the Beatles and the films of Alfred Hitchcock, but I’m crazy about most “classic rock” and almost anything from Hollywood’s golden age.

Quite the range and reach, you two! When and how did you both become aware of Rod Serling and/or his work?

Wendy: I can remember watching the Twilight Zone (TZ) when I was very young. My dad’s always been a bit of a fan. He remembered watching it with my grandpa when he was a kid. I wasn’t familiar with any of Serling’s other work until I met Paul. I’m definitely not the über fan that he is, but talking to Paul and learning more about the broad scope of Serling’s work has given me a greater appreciation for Serling, the writer. TZ may be his claim to fame, but everything he touched, he infused with a little piece of his soul. The man was one hell of a writer.

Paul: It was the same for me, though for me the parent who shared my interest in fantasy and science fiction was my mother. I remember discovering TZ in reruns with my brother, who initially was the big fan in the family. He was the one who first had a copy of Marc Scott Zicree’s The Twilight Zone Companion, which I poured through all the time. The first TZ I ever saw was “Five Characters in Search of an Exit”—I can still picture seeing it on the TV at my grandparents’ house—and I was in awe of this weird, wonderful series. It didn’t look like anything else on TV. It still doesn’t.

What drew you both to the Twilight Zone?

Wendy: I don’t know what it is exactly that makes TZ so appealing. I love that it’s in black and white, that just adds a classic creepiness to every episode, and for the most part the picture is so crisp and sharp. The filming was beautiful (and I happen to be a huge fan of the video-taped episodes). My favourite aspect of the show though is that many of the episodes have a great moral lesson in them. It’s not just empty entertainment. It’s stories about people and how they deal with certain situations and circumstances. And while many of the stories could have a similar theme, they were all so very different. You can’t get bored watching. There is much to be learned from this series. The writing was brilliant. Another thing I like is that there’s a variety of endings. There are endings which are designed to make you think (“The Howling Man” and “The Gift”), endings that deliver straight up justice (“Deaths-Head Revisited” and “The Masks”), and there are beautiful, happy endings, too (“The Hunt” and “Night of the Meek”). Serling knew the recipe for creating a show with longevity.

Paul: I agree. The very fact that we’re sitting here talking about it, fifty years after it first aired, is a testament to just how timeless it really is. And it owes a great deal to what Wendy just highlighted—the look of the show, that striking black-and-white photography, and the feature-film quality that is stamped on every episode. Television, then as now, has always been plagued by bean-counters who just want everything done as cheaply as possible, and you can see the result: the vast wasteland that television is rightly accused of being. Serling, though, saw TV’s potential. He once said he wanted to “prove that television can be both commercial and worthwhile.” And God bless him, he fought for it. It shortened his life, it honestly did, but what a rich legacy he left behind. A series for the storyteller, as he said right from the start. And not just any stories, but stories that fired the imagination, and yes, often taught a moral lesson. And if that lesson pricked our conscience, if he had to remind us of the evils of racism or the insanity of the nuclear age, he didn’t flinch. He was fast, prolific, dedicated to quality, and smart enough to employ some of the best people in the business, both in front of and behind the camera. And because people loved and respected him, they really stepped up their game. The result is one of the most memorable shows of all time.

Both your sites have been featured on Word Press’s Freshly Pressed. Your sites are growing in followers. To what do you attribute such success? Why do you think your sites attract such attention and growing followships?

Wendy: I think both Paul and I create very high quality content. We take great care in making sure our posts are error free and smooth reading. And the one thing we both have in common—and what I attribute our growing success to—is passion. There are a lot of great writers out there, but they lack passion in their writing. And a lack of passion can make what you write, no matter how well written, boring. You have to get people excited for what you’re talking about, whether they like the topic or not. If the passion you have for a given subject shines through in what you write, the reader will be drawn in and want to read more. If you’re excited, they’ll be excited. It’s contagious. Also, my blog is not limited to just one topic, I write about anything and everything, from TZ to Poe to painting. My reader base is a wide one, bringing in people from all walks of life.

Paul: Exactly. There’s something about writing about Serling’s work—and despite the fact that TZ takes up most of my oxygen, I do highlight his work throughout his career—that makes you want to do high-quality work. When I sat down to write my post for “Eye of the Beholder” (my personal favorite), I didn’t just tear off a few quick thoughts. I thought, “My God, this was one of Serling’s masterpieces. I owe him my very best work.” That’s my motto on my Twitter page, which preceded the blog by a good nine months. I’m scrupulous about quality. Each quote has to be accurate and interesting. Each fact has to be right. And each blog post has to shine. Serling once said that he wasn’t interested in what anyone would call second-best, and I wholeheartedly agree. That’s why I’m so fortunate to have Wendy assisting me. She’s just as dedicated as I am to making everything as perfect as it can be.

How’d you two meet?

Wendy: William Windom introduced us. No, I’m serious! I found Paul on Twitter one day while searching for anything TZ related. He had written a tweet about William Windom’s roles in TZ/Night Gallery (NG). Now, I wasn’t familiar with NG, and ironically, I’m not a fan of “Five Characters In Search of An Exit,” but I am a fan of “Murder, She Wrote,” which is how I was most familiar with Windom. I thought a TZ quote page was great, so I followed Paul, and replied to his tweet, mentioning that Windom would eventually become my favourite character, Dr. Seth Hazlitt, on “Murder, She Wrote.” Paul followed back, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Paul Gallagher, "Mr. Twilight Zone"
Paul Gallagher, “Mr. Twilight Zone”

Paul: Yes, a toast to Dr. Hazlitt! I had been doing the Twitter page for about a year and half at that point, and suddenly this very pretty girl followed me. What got me, though, was all these clever replies she’d come up with. Most people don’t interact with me much, if at all, and those who do usually don’t have anything all that interesting to say, but Wendy was very witty, very fast, and had a sense of humor that was just like mine. And she kept coming up with these amazing “Follow Friday” tweets for me! Becoming friends with her was very easy. We just clicked from the word “go.”

I’m also a fan of “Murder, She Wrote,” and, since you mentioned William Windom, I used to watch this show as a kid, called “My World and Welcome to It” (yes, I’ve been around a while…). It only lasted one season, but I loved that show.

Paul also writes about The Night Gallery (and you, Wendy, help him with the images), another series Mr. Serling designed. How do you both contrast the two?

Wendy: While I myself haven’t done any writing about Night Gallery, and I haven’t seen many of the episodes, what stands out most for me between the two is Serling’s direct involvement, or lack thereof. Every episode of TZ has Serling’s magic touch. Even the not so great episodes are still better than 95% of what’s on TV today. He had much more control over the content and execution of Twilight Zone than he ever did with Night Gallery, and it’s reflected in the finished product. Now, we can’t really do a direct comparison of the two shows, they aren’t the same beast, nor are they supposed to be. Night Gallery is a bit darker, more horror than suspense. And it lacks the subtle beauty of TZ. I can only comment on what I’ve seen, but all in all, NG comes across as kind of crude compared to TZ. Less refined, less satisfying overall. I don’t think I could call myself a fan of Night Gallery. There’s just not enough Serling in this series to make it as exceptional as TZ.

Paul: I’m a fan of Night Gallery, but I agree with Wendy’s assessment. There’s no question that TZ was the better show, and yes, it was because Serling was the executive producer. When it came to Night Gallery, he passed on this time-consuming job, but still thought that they’d defer to him on major decisions. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They wanted his name, but not his advice—a huge mistake. And rather than have one story per episode, Night Gallery sometimes had as many as four, and some of them were these odd little sketch comedy pieces that producer Jack Laird loved, and Serling hated. However, the series can’t be written off entirely. They produced many fine segments, including Serling’s “They’re Tearing Down Tim Riley’s Bar” and some other very entertaining stories. And it was surprisingly influential. Director Guillermo del Toro, for example, watched the series as a child and gives Night Gallery a lot of credit for inspiring his interest in horror. And there are two episodes with Vincent Price! What more could you want?

Vincent Price, another wonderfully fun actor to watch!

Wendy, you also write about the Twilight Zone, but as Paul’s much lauded “Gal Friday,” could you also describe how you contribute to his posts?

Wendy: Truth be told, I ghost write all of Paul’s posts, then he just signs his name to them and publishes them on his blog. No, no. I’m just kidding. As Paul’s Gal Friday, I’m basically here for whatever he might need. In the behind the scenes department, he runs ideas by me, or we brainstorm ideas together. Sometimes I’ll go over his early drafts for a piece and offer my opinion on the direction it’s taking. I make recommendations and suggestions, and eventually Paul places the finished piece in my capable hands for my eagle-eye editing. No post is published until I’ve seen it and it receives my “GF Stamp of Approval.” And of course I provide Paul with photos for his posts, as he so kindly credits me with a tag line at the end of each. I’m lucky enough to have a complete set of TZ DVDs, so when there’s a new blog post in the works, I go through the relevant episodes, selecting shots that I think look good, save them, format them, and send them along to Paul, who chooses the ones that work best for the post. I think I do a little bit of everything!

Paul: No kidding! It’s hard to overestimate Wendy’s influence. Before she came along, I was writing some very good posts, but the blog didn’t take off until I began to involve her more and more in their preparation. I look back at some of my early posts, and I just cringe: I would put no pictures, no artwork of any kind! Yes, I made sure the posts were well-written, but they lacked any presentation. Having a best friend who’s an artist par excellence is a huge benefit. And, to my utter delight, she’s a terrific editor, too. She has an eagle eye for typos, she’s very meticulous, very organized, and always has these terrific suggestions. The high-quality screen grabs alone have made a major difference. Rather than just grabbing some poor-quality image off the web, I can say, “I’m planning a post on ‘Night of the Meek.’ Can you give me a few pics?” And Wendy will come back with three dozen or more high-quality images. You know what that means? I can select just the right pic, and put it in just the right spot. That’s a big, big help. I could not do the blog without her. Or I could, but it would be markedly inferior!

What do you think prepared you for your roles in “administering” to the Twilight Zone/Night Gallery legacies? Have you both always had an interest in the Human Condition?

Wendy: Passion, a keen interest in observing, and an overwhelming desire for understanding. I have always been interested in the Human Condition, although I don’t believe I ever really thought about it specifically. But I don’t believe you can be a true TZ fan and not have an interest in it.

Paul: Very true. So much of Serling’s work endures, I believe, because of this palpable interest in, yes, the Human Condition. Think of how many episodes of TZ centered on the forgotten people on life’s periphery: washed-up boxers, innocent prisoners, alcoholic gunmen, sidewalk pitchmen. Ordinary men and women just trying to make their way through life and not get knocked down permanently. And Serling reached out and highlighted their stories. He poked our consciences and needled our sense of justice. I don’t know what, if anything, prepared me for this (though my wonderful parents certainly strove to instill a firm sense of right and wrong in me), but I can tell you that something in Serling’s work has always stirred me deeply. And the more I delve into his writing, the more impressed I am with it, the more touched I am. And therefore the more keen I am on sharing his vision, which I try to do in my own modest way.

Do you both have any far-ranging goals you’d like to share, whether about yourselves or your Serling legacy efforts? We’ve joked about this in tweets, but, might there be a book in the offing…?

Paul: Yes, I’ve had a book in mind for a long time now. One that won’t just be an episode guide, as many previous books have been, but that will explore his work in greater depth by examining the themes that surface time and again, from loneliness to fear of the unknown. At this point, it’s just in the planning stages, but I can tell you that when it appears, it will be a world-class effort that will rely heavily on Wendy’s unique and irreplaceable talents. If I don’t even want to publish a blog post without her help, you can imagine how I feel about publishing a book without her—it’s unthinkable! The final volume will be very much a Paul-Wendy product.

Wendy: Ah, yes. “The Book.” Paul and I have enjoyed many discussions about this. I think I’m even more driven than he is to make this happen. He’s my best friend and this is one of his dreams. And he deserves to be recognized for the amazingly talented writer he is. His dedication is simply unparalleled. The amount of work that goes into his Twitter page and blog? He may do it for fun, and people might think it’s just a “hobby,” but I’ve seen what it takes to do all that Paul does. Make no mistake about it, it’s work. Enjoyable work, but work nonetheless. So my far-ranging goal is definitely to help Paul make this happen. There will be a book.

Do keep us posted on the book! I think we’d all love to see that!

Okay, I know we’ve all posted our favorite TZ/NG lists of episodes, but, right here, right now…name the first one that comes to mind, and why? It doesn’t have to be your “favorite,” per se, we’re just getting Freudian, here. :-]

Wendy: “The Hitchhiker”. It’s almost always the first TZ that comes to mind when someone brings up the series. It did make my top 25 list, but was at the bottom end. This episode has always sat funny with me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it, and Inger Stevens is amazing as Nan, but just the whole idea of her running around, thinking that she’s okay, then finding out…uh, nope. Not okay at all. It’s not just a general creepiness that it causes, I think it kind of scares me a little. And that end narration of hers, the realization and acceptance of what happened…wow. It’s a spooky episode, and one that won’t leave your mind any time soon.

Paul: “The After Hours.” It’s one of my favorites, yes, but I selected it in one of my earlier blog posts as the episode that I would show someone who had never seen TZ before. Everything that made TZ a success is there: Serling’s writing, that beautiful black-and-white photography, world-class acting, inventive directing, a terrific musical score. It’s TZ in a nutshell—scary, perceptive, mysterious and thought-provoking. And, most of all, fun.

And now, for my Freudian analysis (our little group of TZ aficionados like to analyze our favorite TZ show choices): Wendy, you think you’re “ok,” but you’re uneasy, searching for something (the “truth”? ;-] )…and feel you’re on a surreal road trip in your personal quest for this Truth, but…you’re Not Alone. Initially this frightened you, but no longer! Paul, you’re tired of the staid “mannequins” of society and are trying to get them to see even a thimble of truth (note that both of you are well-suited to each other, here!)…what lies beyond the musty old attics of their parochial, retail-oriented mindsets! Limit me, will you! No, no,  I’ll never go back!

How’d I do?

Wendy: Oh, you are spot on, Frank! Seriously! All in fun, but still very, very true! Freud himself couldn’t have analyzed me better! Hmm, Paul, are you my hitchhiker?!

Paul: I’m certainly “going your way”! Frank, that’s a very perceptive analysis. All in fun, yes, but I do get that feeling sometimes! I wonder, in fact, if that might have subconsciously motivated me to try and carry Serling’s message to a wider audience. Interesting to ponder!

Thank you! My office hours are 1 a.m. to 2 a.m…in the Twilight Zone….

And, in the spirit of the previous question, which episode—Twilight Zone or Night Gallery—most embodies or “fits” who you each are?

Wendy: Oh, good question! But a difficult one. After much consideration and thought, I’m going to say my favourite TZ episode, “The Howling Man.” My life is a constant search for the Truth (hence my blog name, “Seeker of Truth”) both in a religious and non religious way. This episode illustrates man’s struggle to fight lies with the truth. It’s something I do every day, in every aspect of my life. David Ellington represents our struggle, while Brother Jerome is the fighting spirit. I’m always searching for hope, and to me, that’s what this episode shows us. That even though we struggle and life isn’t easy, there is hope that it can be better. Brother Jerome did capture the Devil. It wasn’t easy, but he showed determination and perseverance. And in doing so, he helped more than just himself.

Wendy Brydge, Gal Friday
Wendy Brydge, Gal Friday

Paul: I don’t know if it embodies me, per se, but I’d say it’s a toss-up, or a tie, between “A Passage for Trumpet” and “The Changing of the Guard“. Both are what I like to call redemptive tales, which for me are the most satisfying episodes. I mean, I’m crazy about episodes like “Perchance to Dream” and “Shadow Play“, both of which are really just there to mess with our minds and give us a little scare, but I have a soft spot for the stories that take a character who thinks he’s a loser, who thinks he hasn’t made a difference, and then—through the magic of the Twilight Zone and Serling’s sensitive writing—learns that he matters, that he’s here for a reason, that things can be better. I want to pick those characters up and help them, so when I see Serling do it, it inspires me to want to do the same.

Huh, so much for my in-depth analysis….

It’s clear you both enjoy blogging. Wendy, I know you do commercial art (and a “fine” job you do at it, too, pardon the pun…), and Paul, I know you’re a writer and editor for non-profit, but are there other forms of expression: a) you’re already doing, and b) you’re not, but would like to do?

Paul: I have a great interest in film and its effect on our perceptions of right and wrong. I’ve been writing a book in my head on that topic for a long time. I’d also like to dive a little deeper into the films of Alfred Hitchcock, another great favorite of mine. I want to do the Serling book first, though, because it’s the one that most wants to come out. I’m also interested in writing screenplays, which hardly makes me unique, but I do have a strong interest in writing at least one story that makes it to the big screen. However, the most near-term “form of expression” I’d like to mention is the Twilight Zone podcast I’ll be doing with Wendy. I view it as the next logical step in my efforts to bring greater attention to Serling’s work and increase appreciation for it. I started with a Twitter page, added a blog, a Facebook page, and a Pinterest page. It’s a good time to start a podcast. And having Wendy as my co-host is key. She already helps me do my best work on the blog, and I’m convinced she’ll do the same for the podcast. We’ll drill down into specific episodes and just have some fun with it. I’m really excited about it!

Wendy: I’m also very excited for the podcast. I hope everyone is ready to hear the Boss and his Gal Friday banter back and forth! Right now art and writing are the only things I’m doing, but I’d really like to combine the two someday. Eventually I too would like to compile a book. I’m interested in so many different things, and I love books with a lot of pictures and tons of information. I’d like to do something maybe even a bit encyclopedic, combining art of all varieties, artists, writers, etc., all together in the same book. I wouldn’t exactly call this a “dream”, but it’s something that interests me. In the shorter term (and blog related, sorry!), in addition to our podcast, Paul and I are currently working on a joint blog post I’ll be featuring soon on Seeker of Truth. He’ll be my first (and only!) guest blogger! It combines TZ and art — my art, to be exact. Very excited to have Paul join in and do this with me!

What do you two like to read, are currently reading?

Wendy: As far as fiction goes, I very much enjoy supernatural-based series. Bring me a book about a vampire and I’ll read it! Anne Rice’s “Vampire Chronicles” were good, and my favourite author Kelley Armstrong’s “Women of the Otherworld” series (which sadly ended last year) was magnificent. I’m currently working my way through Laurell K. Hamilton’s “Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter” series (it’s a long one—more than 20 books), as well as reading your The Uninvited, Frank! I don’t have a lot of time to devote to fiction anymore, but I read a lot of non-fiction in the form of books about history. I study Egyptology, The Crusades/Templars, mythology, artists, etc. I have an amazing library filled with books about anything you’d ever want to learn. And I love my Encyclopedia Britannica set! I’ve had my nose stuck in those since I was about six years old.

Paul: I’m a big fan of the classics. Anything from Poe to Hawthorne to Verne to Dumas, I’m there. I also enjoy reading mysteries and thrillers. I have a growing collection of paperbacks from the “pulp” sci-fi era, ones with stories by Richard Matheson and Charles Beaumont, and I really enjoy those. I’m also a big reader of history and of anything that goes behind the scenes of movies and TV shows that I’m a fan of. My collection of books, both fiction and non-fiction, is prodigious. It’s crazy, how many books I own. I enjoy reading on my Kindle, but there’s nothing like a real book. The feel of it, the smell of it, the look of it.

Thanks for the kind mention, Wendy! Is there anything else burning inside either of you with a need for expression?

Wendy: Oh, there’s always something else that’s burning inside. But the need for expression is very time-sensitive. And for me? It’s just not the right time to share that yet. Spoilers! Ask me again ten, fifteen years down the road.

Paul: You can ask me then as well, actually. I’m such an extrovert that there’s little that goes unexpressed, but some things need to stay private, at least for the time being. There’s a time and a place for everything. Now’s not the time. But thanks for asking.

If you were to each have a gravestone, what would you have engraved upon them?

Wendy: Front: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”

Back: “Next stop…Willoughby.”

Paul: “Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity.” That’s the inscription on the statue of Horace Mann in TZ’s “The Changing of the Guard.” It’s so easy to just mark time on this earth, when God really intends for each of us to accomplish something important—if we’re willing to listen and work for it. I find that saying to be wonderfully inspirational, so I’d like to share it posthumously with anyone who sees my gravestone.

Thanks for your time, Paul and Wendy!

Paul: And thank you, Frank, for inviting us. It’s been fun!

Wendy: A lot of fun! Thanks, Frank!

Paul and Wendy’s Social Media:

Paul Gallagher’s Twilight Zone blog, Shadow & Substance (http://thenightgallery.wordpress.com/).

Paul Gallagher’s Twilight Zone Twitter page, @TheNightGallery (https://twitter.com/thenightgallery).

Paul Gallagher’s Twilight Zone Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/ofshadowandsubstance).

Paul Gallagher’s Pinterest page (http://pinterest.com/thenightgallery/).

Wendy Brydge’s Seeker of Truth blog, (http://wendylovesjesus.wordpress.com/).

Wendy Brydge’s Twitter page, @WendyLovesJesus (https://twitter.com/wendylovesjesus).

Wendy Brydge’s Fine Art & Custom Design (http://wendybrydge.wix.com/fineart).

Wendy Brydge’s Pinterest page (http://pinterest.com/wendylovesjesus/).

Filed Under: Just Plain Weird, Paranormal, Philosophical, Space, To Be Human, UFOs Tagged With: Edgar Allan Poe, Marc Scott Zicree, Night Gallery, Paul Gallagher, Rod Serling, Television, Twilight Zone, Wendy Brydge

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