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+{"text":"\n\nThe author and publisher have provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. This e-book is for your personal use only. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. You may not copy, reproduce or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.\n\n**Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author's copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com\/piracy.**\nTable of Contents\n\nTitle Page  \nCopyright Notice  \nIntroduction  \nTHE THINGS THEY LEFT BEHIND  \nTHE RANSOME WOMEN\n\nONE  \nTWO  \nTHREE  \nFOUR  \nFIVE  \nSIX  \nSEVEN  \nEIGHT  \nNINE  \nTEN  \nELEVEN  \nTWELVE  \nTHIRTEEN  \nFOURTEEN  \nFIFTEEN\n\nCopyright Page\n\nIntroduction\n\nWhen I was writing novellas for the pulp magazines back in the 1950s, we still called them \"novelettes,\" and all I knew about the form was that it was long and it paid half a cent a word. This meant that if I wrote 10,000 words, the average length of a novelette back then, I would sooner or later get a check for five hundred dollars. This was not bad pay for a struggling young writer.\n\nA novella today can run anywhere from 10,000 to 40,000 words. Longer than a short story (5,000 words) but much shorter than a novel (at least 60,000 words), it combines the immediacy of the former with the depth of the latter, and it ain't easy to write. In fact, given the difficulty of the form, and the scarcity of markets for novellas, it is surprising that any writers today are writing them at all.\n\nBut here was the brilliant idea.\n\nRound up the best writers of mystery, crime, and suspense novels, and ask them to write a brand-new novella for a collection of similarly superb novellas to be published anywhere in the world for the very first time. Does that sound keen, or what? In a perfect world, yes, it is a wonderful idea, and here is your novella, sir, thank you very much for asking me to contribute.\n\nBut many of the bestselling novelists I approached had never written a novella in their lives. (Some of them had never even written a short story!) Up went the hands in mock horror. \"What! A novella? I wouldn't even know how to begin one.\" Others thought that writing a novella (\"How long did you say it had to be?\") would constitute a wonderful challenge, but bestselling novelists are busy people with publishing contracts to fulfill and deadlines to meet, and however intriguing the invitation may have seemed at first, stark reality reared its ugly head, and so...\n\n\"Gee, thanks for thinking of me, but I'm already three months behind deadline,\" or...\n\n\"My publisher would kill me if I even dreamed of writing something for another house,\" or...\n\n\"Try me again a year from now,\" or...\n\n\"Have you asked X? Or Y? Or Z?\"\n\nWhat it got down to in the end was a matter of timing and luck. In some cases, a writer I desperately wanted was happily between novels and just happened to have some free time on his\/her hands. In other cases, a writer had an idea that was too short for a novel but too long for a short story, so yes, what a wonderful opportunity! In yet other cases, a writer wanted to introduce a new character he or she had been thinking about for some time. In each and every case, the formidable task of writing fiction that fell somewhere between 10,000 and 40,000 words seemed an exciting challenge, and the response was enthusiastic.\n\nExcept for length and a loose adherence to crime, mystery, or suspense, I placed no restrictions upon the writers who agreed to contribute. The results are as astonishing as they are brilliant. The novellas that follow are as varied as the writers who concocted them, but they all exhibit the same devoted passion and the same extraordinary writing. More than that, there is an underlying sense here that the writer is attempting something new and unexpected, and willing to share his or her own surprises with us. Just as their names are in alphabetical order on the book cover, so do their stories follow in reverse alphabetical order: I have no favorites among them. I love them all equally.\n\nEnjoy!\n\nED McBAIN  \nWeston, Connecticut  \nAugust 2004\nSTEPHEN KING\n\nThere are certain things that are almost always mentioned when the name Stephen King comes up. How many books he's sold. What he's doing in and for literature today. One thing almost never mentioned\u2014and not generally perceived\u2014is that he single-handedly made popular fiction grow up. While there were many good bestselling writers before him, King, more than anybody since John D. MacDonald, brought reality to genre novels with his minutely detailed examinations of life and the people of mythical towns in New England that seem to exist due to his amazing talent for making them real in every detail. Of course, combined with the elements of supernatural terror, novels such as It, The Stand, Insomnia, and Bag of Bones have propelled him to the top of the best-seller lists time after time. He's often remarked that Salem's Lot was \"Peyton Place Meets Dracula.\" And so it was. The rich characterization, the careful and caring social eye, the interplay of story line and character development announced that writers could take worn themes such as vampirism or ghosts and make them fresh again. Before King, many popular writers found their efforts to make their books serious blue-penciled by their editors. Stuff like that gets in the way of the story, they were told. Well, it's stuff like that that has made King so popular, and helped free the popular name from the shackles of simple genre writing. He is a master of masters. His most recent novel is Cell.\n\nTHE THINGS THEY LEFT BEHIND\n\nStephen King\n\nThe things I want to tell you about\u2014the ones they left behind\u2014showed up in my apartment in August of 2002. I'm sure of that, because I found most of them not long after I helped Paula Robeson with her air conditioner. Memory always needs a marker, and that's mine. She was a children's book illustrator, good-looking (hell, fine-looking), husband in import-export. A man has a way of remembering occasions when he's actually able to help a good-looking lady in distress (even one who keeps assuring you she's \"very married\"); such occasions are all too few. These days the would-be knight errant usually just makes matters worse.\n\nShe was in the lobby, looking frustrated, when I came down for an afternoon walk. I said Hi, howya doin', the way you do to other folks who share your building, and she asked me in an exasperated tone that stopped just short of querulousness why the super had to be on vacation now. I pointed out that even cowgirls get the blues and even supers go on vacation; that August, furthermore, was an extremely logical month to take time off. August in New York (and in Paris, mon ami) finds psychoanalysts, trendy artists, and building superintendents mighty thin on the ground.\n\nShe didn't smile. I'm not sure she even got the Tom Robbins reference (obliqueness is the curse of the reading class). She said it might be true about August being a good month to take off and go to the Cape or Fire Island, but her damned apartment was just about burning up and the damned air conditioner wouldn't so much as burp. I asked her if she'd like me to take a look, and I remember the glance she gave me\u2014those cool, assessing gray eyes. I remember thinking that eyes like that probably saw quite a lot. And I remember smiling at what she asked me: Are you safe? It reminded me of that movie, not Lolita (thinking about Lolita, sometimes at two in the morning, came later) but the one where Laurence Olivier does the impromptu dental work on Dustin Hoffman, asking him over and over again, Is it safe?\n\nI'm safe, I said. Haven't attacked a woman in over a year. I used to attack two or three a week, but the meetings are helping.\n\nA giddy thing to say, but I was in a fairly giddy mood. A summer mood. She gave me another look, and then she smiled. Put out her hand. Paula Robeson, she said. It was the left hand she put out\u2014not normal, but the one with the plain gold band on it. I think that was probably on purpose, don't you? But it was later that she told me about her husband being in import-export. On the day when it was my turn to ask her for help.\n\nIn the elevator, I told her not to expect too much. Now, if she'd wanted a man to find out the underlying causes of the New York City Draft Riots, or to supply a few amusing anecdotes about the creation of the smallpox vaccine, or even to dig up quotes on the sociological ramifications of the TV remote control (the most important invention of the last fifty years, in my 'umble opinion), I was the guy.\n\nResearch is your game, Mr. Staley? she asked as we went up in the slow and clattery elevator.\n\nI admitted that it was, although I didn't add that I was still quite new to it. Nor did I ask her to call me Scott\u2014that would have spooked her all over again. And I certainly didn't tell her that I was trying to forget all I'd once known about rural insurance. That I was, in fact, trying to forget quite a lot of things, including about two dozen faces.\n\nYou see, I may be trying to forget, but I still remember quite a lot. I think we all do when we put our minds to it (and sometimes, rather more nastily, when we don't). I even remember something one of those South American novelists said\u2014you know, the ones they call the Magical Realists? Not the guy's name, that's not important, but this quote: As infants, our first victory comes in grasping some bit of the world, usually our mothers' fingers. Later we discover that the world, and the things of the world, are grasping us, and have been all along. Borges? Yes, it might have been Borges. Or it might have been Marquez. That I don't remember. I just know I got her air conditioner running, and when cool air started blowing out of the convector, it lit up her whole face. I also know it's true, that thing about how perception switches around and we come to realize that the things we thought we were holding are actually holding us. Keeping us prisoner, perhaps\u2014Thoreau certainly thought so\u2014but also holding us in place. That's the trade-off. And no matter what Thoreau might have thought, I believe the trade is mostly a fair one. Or I did then; now, I'm not so sure.\n\nAnd I know these things happened in late August of 2002, not quite a year after a piece of the sky fell down and everything changed for all of us.\n\nOn an afternoon about a week after Sir Scott Staley donned his Good Samaritan armor and successfully battled the fearsome air conditioner, I took my afternoon walk to the Staples on 83rd Street to get a box of Zip disks and a ream of paper. I owed a fellow forty pages of background on the development of the Polaroid camera (which is more interesting a story than you might think). When I got back to my apartment, there was a pair of sunglasses with red frames and very distinctive lenses on the little table in the foyer where I keep bills that need to be paid, claim checks, overdue-book notices, and things of that nature. I recognized the glasses at once, and all the strength went out of me. I didn't fall, but I dropped my packages on the floor and leaned against the side of the door, trying to catch my breath and staring at those sunglasses. If there had been nothing to lean against, I believe I would have swooned like a miss in a Victorian novel\u2014one of those where the lustful vampire appears at the stroke of midnight.\n\nTwo related but distinct emotional waves struck me. The first was that sense of horrified shame you feel when you know you're about to be caught in some act you will never be able to explain. The memory that comes to mind in this regard is of a thing that happened to me\u2014or almost happened\u2014when I was sixteen.\n\nMy mother and sister had gone shopping in Portland and I supposedly had the house to myself until evening. I was reclining naked on my bed with a pair of my sister's underpants wrapped around my cock. The bed was scattered with pictures I'd clipped from magazines I'd found in the back of the garage\u2014the previous owner's stash of Penthouse and Gallery magazines, very likely. I heard a car come crunching into the driveway. No mistaking the sound of that motor; it was my mother and sister. Peg had come down with some sort of flu bug and started vomiting out the window. They'd gotten as far as Poland Springs and turned around.\n\nI looked at the pictures scattered all over the bed, my clothes scattered all over the floor, and the foam of pink rayon in my left hand. I remember how the strength flowed out of my body, and the terrible sense of lassitude that came in its place. My mother was yelling for me\u2014\"Scott, Scott, come down and help me with your sister, she's sick\"\u2014and I remember thinking, \"What's the use? I'm caught. I might as well accept it, I'm caught and this is the first thing they'll think of when they think about me for the rest of my life: Scott, the jerk-off artist.\"\n\nBut more often than not a kind of survival overdrive kicks in at such moments. That's what happened to me. I might go down, I decided, but I wouldn't do so without at least an effort to save my dignity. I threw the pictures and the panties under the bed. Then I jumped into my clothes, moving with numb but sure-fingered speed, all the time thinking of this crazy old game show I used to watch, Beat the Clock.\n\nI can remember how my mother touched my flushed cheek when I got downstairs, and the thoughtful concern in her eyes. \"Maybe you're getting sick, too,\" she said.\n\n\"Maybe I am,\" I said, and gladly enough. It was half an hour before I discovered I'd forgotten to zip my fly. Luckily, neither Peg nor my mother noticed, although on any other occasion one or both of them would have asked me if I had a license to sell hot dogs (this was what passed for wit in the house where I grew up). That day one of them was too sick and the other was too worried to be witty. So I got a total pass.\n\nLucky me.\n\nWhat followed the first emotional wave that August day in my apartment was much simpler: I thought I was going out of my mind. Because those glasses couldn't be there. Absolutely could not. No way.\n\nThen I raised my eyes and saw something else that had most certainly not been in my apartment when I left for Staples half an hour before (locking the door behind me, as I always did). Leaning in the corner between the kitchenette and the living room was a baseball bat. Hillerich & Bradsby, according to the label. And while I couldn't see the other side, I knew what was printed there well enough: CLAIMS ADJUSTOR, the words burned into the ash with the tip of a soldering iron and then colored deep blue.\n\nAnother sensation rushed through me: a third wave. This was a species of surreal dismay. I don't believe in ghosts, but I'm sure that at that moment I looked as though I had just seen one.\n\nI felt that way, too. Yes indeed. Because those sunglasses had to be gone\u2014long-time gone, as the Dixie Chicks say. Ditto Cleve Farrell's Claims Adjustor. (\"Besboll been bery-bery good to mee,\" Cleve would sometimes say, waving the bat over his head as he sat at his desk. \"In-SHOO-rance been bery-bery bad.\")\n\nI did the only thing I could think of, which was to grab up Sonja D'Amico's shades and trot back down to the elevator with them, holding them out in front of me the way you might hold out something nasty you found on your apartment floor after a week away on vacation\u2014a piece of decaying food, or the body of a poisoned mouse. I found myself remembering a conversation I'd had about Sonja with a fellow named Warren Anderson. She must have looked like she thought she was going to pop back up and ask somebody for a Coca-Cola, I had thought when he told me what he'd seen. Over drinks in the Blarney Stone Pub on Third Avenue, this had been, about six weeks after the sky fell down. After we'd toasted each other on not being dead.\n\nThings like that have a way of sticking, whether you want them to or not. Like a musical phrase or the nonsense chorus to a pop song that you just can't get out of your head. You wake up at three in the morning, needing to take a leak, and as you stand there in front of the bowl, your cock in your hand and your mind about ten percent awake, it comes back to you: Like she thought she was going to pop back up. Pop back up and ask for a Coke. At some point during that conversation Warren had asked me if I remembered her funny sunglasses, and I said I did. Sure I did.\n\nFour floors down, Pedro the doorman was standing in the shade of the awning and talking with Rafe the FedEx man. Pedro was a serious hardboy when it came to letting deliverymen stand in front of the building\u2014he had a seven-minute rule, a pocket watch with which to enforce it, and all the beat cops were his buddies\u2014but he got on with Rafe, and sometimes the two of them would stand there for twenty minutes or more with their heads together, doing the old New York Yak. Politics? Besboll? The Gospel According to Henry David Thoreau? I didn't know and never cared less than on that day. They'd been there when I went up with my office supplies, and were still there when a far less carefree Scott Staley came back down. A Scott Staley who had discovered a small but noticeable hole in the column of reality. Just the two of them being there was enough for me. I walked up and held my right hand, the one with the sunglasses in it, out to Pedro.\n\n\"What would you call these?\" I asked, not bothering to excuse myself or anything, just butting in headfirst.\n\nHe gave me a considering stare that said, \"I am surprised at your rudeness, Mr. Staley, truly I am,\" then looked down at my hand. For a long moment he said nothing, and a horrible idea took possession of me: he saw nothing because there was nothing to see. Only my hand outstretched, as if this were Turnabout Tuesday and I expected him to tip me. My hand was empty. Sure it was, had to be, because Sonja D'Amico's sunglasses no longer existed. Sonja's joke shades were a long time gone.\n\n\"I call them sunglasses, Mr. Staley,\" Pedro said at last. \"What else would I call them? Or is this some sort of trick question?\"\n\nRafe the FedEx man, clearly more interested, took them from me. The relief of seeing him holding the sunglasses and looking at them, almost studying them, was like having someone scratch that exact place between your shoulder blades that itches. He stepped out from beneath the awning and held them up to the day, making a sun-star flash off each of the heart-shaped lenses.\n\n\"They're like the ones the little girl wore in that porno movie with Jeremy Irons,\" he said at last.\n\nI had to grin in spite of my distress. In New York, even the deliverymen are film critics. It's one of the things to love about the place.\n\n\"That's right, Lolita,\" I said, taking the glasses back. \"Only the heart-shaped sunglasses were in the version Stanley Kubrick directed. Back when Jeremy Irons was still nothing but a putter.\" That one hardly made sense (even to me), but I didn't give Shit One. Once again I was feeling giddy... but not in a good way. Not this time.\n\n\"Who played the pervo in that one?\" Rafe asked.\n\nI shook my head. \"I'll be damned if I can remember right now.\"\n\n\"If you don't mind me saying,\" Pedro said, \"you look rather pale, Mr. Staley. Are you coming down with something? The flu, perhaps?\"\n\nNo, that was my sister, I thought of saying. The day I came within about twenty seconds of getting caught masturbating into her panties while I looked at a picture of Miss April. But I hadn't been caught. Not then, not on 9\/11, either. Fooled ya, beat the clock again. I couldn't speak for Warren Anderson, who told me in the Blarney Stone that he'd stopped on the third floor that morning to talk about the Yankees with a friend, but not getting caught had become quite a specialty of mine.\n\n\"I'm all right,\" I told Pedro, and while that wasn't true, knowing I wasn't the only one who saw Sonja's joke shades as a thing that actually existed in the world made me feel better, at least. If the sunglasses were in the world, probably Cleve Farrell's Hillerich & Bradsby was, too.\n\n\"Are those the glasses?\" Rafe suddenly asked in a respectful, ready-to-be-awestruck voice. \"The ones from the first Lolita?\"\n\n\"Nope,\" I said, folding the bows behind the heart-shaped lenses, and as I did, the name of the girl in the Kubrick version of the film came to me: Sue Lyon. I still couldn't remember who played the pervo. \"Just a knock-off.\"\n\n\"Is there something special about them?\" Rafe asked. \"Is that why you came rushing down here?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" I said. \"Someone left them behind in my apartment.\"\n\nI went upstairs before they could ask any more questions and looked around, hoping there was nothing else. But there was. In addition to the sunglasses and the baseball bat with CLAIMS ADJUSTOR burned into the side, there was a Howie's Laff-Riot Farting Cushion, a conch shell, a steel penny suspended in a Lucite cube, and a ceramic mushroom (red with white spots) that came with a ceramic Alice sitting on top of it. The Farting Cushion had belonged to Jimmy Eagleton and got a certain amount of play every year at the Christmas party. The ceramic Alice had been on Maureen Hannon's desk\u2014a gift from her granddaughter, she'd told me once. Maureen had the most beautiful white hair, which she wore long, to her waist. You rarely see that in a business situation, but she'd been with the company for almost forty years and felt she could wear her hair any way she liked. I remembered both the conch shell and the steel penny, but not in whose cubicles (or offices) they had been. It might come to me; it might not. There had been lots of cubicles (and offices) at Light and Bell, Insurers.\n\nThe shell, the mushroom, and the Lucite cube were on the coffee table in my living room, gathered in a neat pile. The Farting Cushion was\u2014quite rightly, I thought\u2014lying on top of my toilet tank, beside the current issue of Spenck's Rural Insurance Newsletter. Rural insurance used to be my specialty, as I think I told you. I knew all the odds.\n\nWhat were the odds on this?\n\nWhen something goes wrong in your life and you need to talk about it, I think that the first impulse for most people is to call a family member. This wasn't much of an option for me. My father put an egg in his shoe and beat it when I was two and my sister was four. My mother, no quitter she, hit the ground running and raised the two of us, managing a mail-order clearinghouse out of our home while she did so. I believe this was a business she actually created, and she made an adequate living at it (only the first year was really scary, she told me later). She smoked like a chimney, however, and died of lung cancer at the age of forty-eight, six or eight years before the Internet might have made her a dotcom millionaire.\n\nMy sister Peg was currently living in Cleveland, where she had embraced Mary Kay cosmetics, the Indians, and fundamentalist Christianity, not necessarily in that order. If I called and told Peg about the things I'd found in my apartment, she would suggest I get down on my knees and ask Jesus to come into my life. Rightly or wrongly, I did not feel Jesus could help me with my current problem.\n\nI was equipped with the standard number of aunts, uncles, and cousins, but most lived west of the Mississippi, and I hadn't seen any of them in years. The Killians (my mother's side of the family) have never been a reuning bunch. A card on one's birthday and at Christmas were considered sufficient to fulfill all familial obligations. A card on Valentine's Day or at Easter was a bonus. I called my sister on Christmas or she called me, we muttered the standard crap about getting together \"sometime soon,\" and hung up with what I imagine was mutual relief.\n\nThe next option when in trouble would probably be to invite a good friend out for a drink, explain the situation, and then ask for advice. But I was a shy boy who grew into a shy man, and in my current research job I work alone (out of preference) and thus have no colleagues apt to mature into friends. I made a few in my last job\u2014Sonja and Cleve Farrell, to name two\u2014but they're dead, of course.\n\nI reasoned that if you don't have a friend you can talk to, the next-best thing would be to rent one. I could certainly afford a little therapy, and it seemed to me that a few sessions on some psychiatrist's couch (four might do the trick) would be enough for me to explain what had happened and to articulate how it made me feel. How much could four sessions set me back? Six hundred dollars? Maybe eight? That seemed a fair price for a little relief. And I thought there might be a bonus. A disinterested outsider might be able to see some simple and reasonable explanation I was just missing. To my mind the locked door between my apartment and the outside world seemed to do away with most of those, but it was my mind, after all; wasn't that the point? And perhaps the problem?\n\nI had it all mapped out. During the first session I'd explain what had happened. When I came to the second one, I'd bring the items in question\u2014sunglasses, Lucite cube, conch shell, baseball bat, ceramic mushroom, the ever-popular Farting Cushion. A little show and tell, just like in grammar school. That left two more during which my rent-a-pal and I could figure out the cause of this disturbing tilt in the axis of my life and set things straight again.\n\nA single afternoon spent riffling the Yellow Pages and dialing the telephone was enough to prove to me that the idea of psychiatry was unworkable in fact, no matter how good it might be in theory. The closest I came to an actual appointment was a receptionist who told me that Dr. Jauss might be able to work me in the following January. She intimated even that would take some inspired shoehorning. The others held out no hope whatsoever. I tried half a dozen therapists in Newark and four in White Plains, even a hypnotist in Queens, with the same result. Mohammed Atta and his Suicide Patrol might have been very bery-bery bad for the city of New York (not to mention for the in-SHOO-rance business), but it was clear to me from that single fruitless afternoon on the telephone that they had been a boon to the psychiatric profession, much as the psychiatrists themselves might wish otherwise. If you wanted to lie on some professional's couch in the summer of 2002, you had to take a number and wait in line.\n\nI could sleep with those things in my apartment, but not well. They whispered to me. I lay awake in my bed, sometimes until two, thinking about Maureen Hannon, who felt she had reached an age (not to mention a level of indispensability) at which she could wear her amazingly long hair any way she damn well liked. Or I'd recall the various people who'd gone running around at the Christmas party, waving Jimmy Eagleton's famous Farting Cushion. It was, as I may have said, a great favorite once people got two or three drinks closer to New Year's. I remembered Bruce Mason asking me if it didn't look like an enema bag for elfs\u2014\"elfs,\" he said\u2014and by a process of association remembered that the conch shell had been his. Of course. Bruce Mason, Lord of the Flies. And a step further down the associative food chain I found the name and face of James Mason, who had played Humbert Humbert back when Jeremy Irons was still just a putter. The mind is a wily monkey; sometime him take-a de banana, sometime him don't. Which is why I'd brought the sunglasses downstairs, although I'd been aware of no deductive process at the time. I'd only wanted confirmation. There's a George Seferis poem that asks, Are these the voices of our dead friends, or is it just the gramophone? Sometimes it's a good question, one you have to ask someone else. Or... listen to this.\n\nOnce, in the late eighties, near the end of a bitter two-year romance with alcohol, I woke up in my study after dozing off at my desk in the middle of the night. I staggered off to my bedroom, where, as I reached for the light switch, I saw someone moving around. I flashed on the idea (the near certainty) of a junkie burglar with a cheap pawnshop .32 in his trembling hand, and my heart almost came out of my chest. I turned on the light with one hand and was grabbing for something heavy off the top of my bureau with the other\u2014anything, even the silver frame holding the picture of my mother, would have done\u2014when I saw the prowler was me. I was staring wild-eyed back at myself from the mirror on the other side of the room, my shirt half-untucked and my hair standing up in the back. I was disgusted with myself, but I was also relieved.\n\nI wanted this to be like that. I wanted it to be the mirror, the gramophone, even someone playing a nasty practical joke (maybe someone who knew why I hadn't been at the office on that day in September). But I knew it was none of those things. The Farting Cushion was there, an actual guest in my apartment. I could run my thumb over the buckles on Alice's ceramic shoes, slide my finger down the part in her yellow ceramic hair. I could read the date on the penny inside the Lucite cube.\n\nBruce Mason, alias Conch Man, alias Lord of the Flies, took his big pink shell to the company shindig at Jones Beach one July and blew it, summoning people to a jolly picnic lunch of hotdogs and hamburgers. Then he tried to show Freddy Lounds how to do it. The best Freddy had been able to muster was a series of weak honking sounds like... well, like Jimmy Eagleton's Farting Cushion. Around and around it goes. Ultimately, every associative chain forms a necklace.\n\nIn late September I had a brainstorm, one of those ideas so simple you can't believe you didn't think of it sooner. Why was I holding onto this unwelcome crap, anyway? Why not just get rid of it? It wasn't as if the items were in trust; the people who owned them weren't going to come back at some later date and ask for them to be returned. The last time I'd seen Cleve Farrell's face it had been on a poster, and the last of those had been torn down by November of '01. The general (if unspoken) feeling was that such homemade homages were bumming out the tourists, who'd begun to creep back to Fun City. What had happened was horrible, most New Yorkers opined, but America was still here and Matthew Broderick would only be in The Producers for so long.\n\nI'd gotten Chinese that night, from a place I like two blocks over. My plan was to eat it as I usually ate my evening meal, watching Chuck Scarborough explain the world to me. I was turning on the television when the epiphany came. They weren't in trust, these unwelcome souvenirs of the last safe day, nor were they evidence. There had been a crime, yes\u2014everyone agreed to that\u2014but the perpetrators were dead and the ones who'd set them on their crazy course were on the run. There might be trials at some future date, but Scott Staley would never be called to the stand, and Jimmy Eagleton's Farting Cushion would never be marked Exhibit A.\n\nI left my General Tso's chicken sitting on the kitchen counter with the cover still on the aluminum dish, got a laundry bag from the shelf above my seldom-used washing machine, put the things into it (sacking them up, I couldn't believe how light they were, or how long I'd waited to do such a simple thing), and rode down in the elevator with the bag sitting between my feet. I walked to the corner of 75th and Park, looked around to make sure I wasn't being watched (God knows why I felt so furtive, but I did), then put litter in its place. I took one look back over my shoulder as I walked away. The handle of the bat poked out of the basket invitingly. Someone would come along and take it, I had no doubt. Probably before Chuck Scarborough gave way to John Seigenthaler or whoever else was sitting in for Tom Brokaw that evening.\n\nOn my way back to my apartment, I stopped at Fun Choy for a fresh order of General Tso's. \"Last one no good?\" asked Rose Ming, at the cash register. She spoke with some concern. \"You tell why.\"\n\n\"No, the last one was fine,\" I said. \"Tonight I just felt like two.\"\n\nShe laughed as though this were the funniest thing she'd ever heard, and I laughed, too. Hard. The kind of laughter that goes well beyond giddy. I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed like that, so loudly and so naturally. Certainly not since Light and Bell, Insurers, fell into West Street.\n\nI rode the elevator up to my floor and walked the twelve steps to 4-B. I felt the way seriously ill people must when they awaken one day, assess themselves by the sane light of morning, and discover that the fever has broken. I tucked my takeout bag under my left arm (an awkward maneuver but workable in the short run) and then unlocked my door. I turned on the light. There, on the table where I leave bills that need to be paid, claim checks, and overdue-book notices, were Sonja D'Amico's joke sunglasses, the ones with the red frames and the heart-shaped Lolita lenses. Sonja D'Amico who had, according to Warren Anderson (who was, so far as I knew, the only other surviving employee of Light and Bell's home office), jumped from the one hundred and tenth floor of the stricken building.\n\nHe claimed to have seen a photo that caught her as she dropped, Sonja with her hands placed primly on her skirt to keep it from skating up her thighs, her hair standing up against the smoke and blue of that day's sky, the tips of her shoes pointed down. The description made me think of \"Falling,\" the poem James Dickey wrote about the stewardess who tries to aim the plummeting stone of her body for water, as if she could come up smiling, shaking beads of water from her hair and asking for a Coca-Cola.\n\n\"I vomited,\" Warren told me that day in the Blarney Stone. \"I never want to look at a picture like that again, Scott, but I know I'll never forget it. You could see her face, and I think she believed that somehow... yeah, that somehow she was going to be all right.\"\n\nI've never screamed as an adult, but I almost did so when I looked from Sonja's sunglasses to Cleve Farrell's CLAIMS ADJUSTOR, the latter once more leaning nonchalantly in the corner by the entry to the living room. Some part of my mind must have remembered that the door to the hallway was open and both of my fourth-floor neighbors would hear me if I did scream; then, as the saying is, I would have some splainin to do.\n\nI clapped my hand over my mouth to hold it in. The bag with the General Tso's chicken inside fell to the hardwood floor of the foyer and split open. I could barely bring myself to look at the resulting mess. Those dark chunks of cooked meat could have been anything.\n\nI plopped into the single chair I keep in the foyer and put my face in my hands. I didn't scream and I didn't cry, and after a while I was able to clean up the mess. My mind kept trying to go toward the things that had beaten me back from the corner of 75th and Park, but I wouldn't let it. Each time it tried to lunge in that direction, I grabbed its leash and forced it away again.\n\nThat night, lying in bed, I listened to conversations. First the things talked (in low voices), and then the people who had owned the things replied (in slightly louder ones). Sometimes they talked about the picnic at Jones Beach\u2014the coconut odor of suntan lotion and Lou Bega singing \"Mambo No. 5\" over and over from Misha Bryzinski's boom box. Or they talked about Frisbees sailing under the sky while dogs chased them. Sometimes they discussed children puddling along the wet sand with the seats of their shorts and their bathing suits sagging. Mothers in swimsuits ordered from the Lands' End catalogue walking beside them with white gloop on their noses. How many of the kids that day had lost a guardian Mom or a Frisbee-throwing Dad? Man, that was a math problem I didn't want to do. But the voices I heard in my apartment did want to do it. They did it over and over.\n\nI remembered Bruce Mason blowing his conch shell and proclaiming himself the Lord of the Flies. I remembered Maureen Hannon once telling me (not at Jones Beach, not this conversation) that Alice in Wonderland was the first psychedelic novel. Jimmy Eagleton telling me one afternoon that his son had a learning disability to go along with his stutter, two for the price of one, and the kid was going to need a tutor in math and another one in French if he was going to get out of high school in the foreseeable future. \"Before he's eligible for the AARP discount on textbooks\" was how Jimmy had put it. His cheeks pale and a bit stubbly in the long afternoon light, as if that morning the razor had been dull.\n\nI'd been drifting toward sleep, but this last one brought me fully awake again with a start, because I realized the conversation must have taken place not long before September Eleventh. Maybe only days. Perhaps even the Friday before, which would make it the last day I'd ever seen Jimmy alive. And the l'il putter with the stutter and the learning disability: had his name actually been Jeremy, as in Jeremy Irons? Surely not, surely that was just my mind (sometime him take-a de banana) playing its little games, but it had been close to that, by God. Jason, maybe. Or Justin. In the wee hours everything grows, and I remember thinking that if the kid's name did turn out to be Jeremy, I'd probably go crazy. Straw that broke the camel's back, baby.\n\nAround three in the morning I remembered who had owned the Lucite cube with the steel penny in it: Roland Abelson, in Liability. He called it his retirement fund. It was Roland who had a habit of saying \"Lucy, you got some 'splainin to do.\" One night in the fall of '01, I had seen his widow on the six o'clock news. I had talked with her at one of the company picnics (very likely the one at Jones Beach) and thought then that she was pretty, but widowhood had refined that prettiness, winnowed it into severe beauty. On the news report she kept referring to her husband as \"missing.\" She would not call him \"dead.\" And if he was alive\u2014if he ever turned up\u2014he would have some 'splainin to do. You bet. But of course, so would she. A woman who has gone from pretty to beautiful as the result of a mass murder would certainly have some 'splainin to do.\n\nLying in bed and thinking of this stuff\u2014remembering the crash of the surf at Jones Beach and the Frisbees flying under the sky\u2014filled me with an awful sadness that finally emptied in tears. But I have to admit it was a learning experience. That was the night I came to understand that things\u2014even little ones, like a penny in a Lucite cube\u2014can get heavier as time passes. But because it's a weight of the mind, there's no mathematical formula for it, like the ones you can find in an insurance company's Blue Books, where the rate on your whole life policy goes up x if you smoke and coverage on your crops goes up y if your farm's in a tornado zone. You see what I'm saying?\n\nIt's a weight of the mind.\n\nThe following morning I gathered up all the items again, and found a seventh, this one under the couch. The guy in the cubicle next to mine, Misha Bryzinski, had kept a small pair of Punch and Judy dolls on his desk. The one I spied under my sofa with my little eye was Punch. Judy was nowhere to be found, but Punch was enough for me. Those black eyes, staring out from amid the ghost bunnies, gave me a terrible sinking feeling of dismay. I fished the doll out, hating the streak of dust it left behind. A thing that leaves a trail is a real thing, a thing with weight. No question about it.\n\nI put Punch and all the other stuff in the little utility closet just off the kitchenette, and there they stayed. At first I wasn't sure they would, but they did.\n\nMy mother once told me that if a man wiped his ass and saw blood on the toilet tissue, his response would be to shit in the dark for the next thirty days and hope for the best. She used this example to illustrate her belief that the cornerstone of male philosophy was \"If you ignore it, maybe it'll go away.\"\n\nI ignored the things I'd found in my apartment, I hoped for the best, and things actually got a little better. I rarely heard those voices whispering in the utility closet (except late at night), although I was more and more apt to take my research chores out of the house. By the middle of November, I was spending most of my days in the New York Public Library. I'm sure the lions got used to seeing me there with my PowerBook.\n\nThen, just before Thanksgiving, I happened to be going out of my building one day and met Paula Robeson, the maiden fair whom I'd rescued by pushing the reset button on her air conditioner, coming in.\n\nWith absolutely no forethought whatsoever\u2014if I'd had time to think about it, I'm convinced I never would have said a word\u2014I asked her if I could buy her lunch and talk to her about something.\n\n\"The fact is,\" I said, \"I have a problem. Maybe you could push my reset button.\"\n\nWe were in the lobby. Pedro the doorman was sitting in the corner, reading the Post (and listening to every word, I have no doubt\u2014to Pedro, his tenants were the world's most interesting daytime drama). She gave me a smile both pleasant and nervous. \"I guess I owe you one,\" she said, \"but... you know I'm married, don't you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, not adding that she'd shaken with me wrong-handed so I could hardly fail to notice the ring.\n\nShe nodded. \"Sure, you must've seen us together at least a couple of times, but he was in Europe when I had all that trouble with the air conditioner, and he's in Europe now. Edward, that's his name. Over the last two years he's been in Europe more than he's here, and although I don't like it, I'm very married in spite of it.\" Then, as a kind of afterthought, she added: \"Edward is in import-export.\"\n\nI used to be in insurance, but then one day the company exploded, I thought of saying. Came close to saying, actually. In the end, I managed something a little more sane.\n\n\"I don't want a date, Ms. Robeson,\" No more than I wanted to be on a first-name basis with her, and was that a wink of disappointment I saw in her eyes? By God, I thought it was. But at least it convinced her. I was still safe.\n\nShe put her hands on her hips and looked at me with mock exasperation. Or maybe not so mock. \"Then what do you want?\"\n\n\"Just someone to talk to. I tried several shrinks, but they're... busy.\"\n\n\"All of them?\"\n\n\"It would appear so.\"\n\n\"If you're having problems with your sex life or feeling the urge to race around town killing men in turbans, I don't want to know about it.\"\n\n\"It's nothing like that. I'm not going to make you blush, I promise.\" Which wasn't quite the same as saying I promise not to shock you or You won't think I'm crazy. \"Just lunch and a little advice, that's all I'm asking. What do you say?\"\n\nI was surprised\u2014almost flabbergasted\u2014by my own persuasiveness. If I'd planned the conversation in advance, I almost certainly would have blown the whole deal. I suppose she was curious, and I'm sure she heard a degree of sincerity in my voice. She may also have surmised that if I was the sort of man who liked to try his hand picking up women, I would have had a go on that day in August when I'd actually been alone with her in her apartment, the elusive Edward in France or Germany. And I have to wonder how much actual desperation she saw in my face.\n\nIn any case, she agreed to have lunch with me at Donald's Grill down the street on Friday. Donald's may be the least romantic restaurant in all of Manhattan\u2014good food, fluorescent lights, waiters who make it clear they'd like you to hurry. She did so with the air of a woman paying an overdue debt about which she's nearly forgotten. This was not exactly flattering, but it was good enough for me. Noon would be fine for her, she said. If I'd meet her in the lobby, we could walk down there together. I told her that would be fine for me, too.\n\nThat night was a good one for me. I went to sleep almost immediately, and there were no dreams of Sonja D'Amico going down beside the burning building with her hands on her thighs, like a stewardess looking for water.\n\nAs we strolled down 86th Street the following day, I asked Paula where she'd been when she heard.\n\n\"San Francisco,\" she said. \"Fast asleep in a Wradling Hotel suite with Edward beside me, undoubtedly snoring as usual. I was coming back here on September twelfth and Edward was going on to Los Angeles for meetings. The hotel management actually rang the fire alarm.\"\n\n\"That must have scared the hell out of you.\"\n\n\"It did, although my first thought wasn't fire but earthquake. Then this disembodied voice came through the speakers, telling us that there was no fire in the hotel, but a hell of a big one in New York.\"\n\n\"Jesus.\"\n\n\"Hearing it like that, in bed in a strange room... hearing it come down from the ceiling like the voice of God...\" She shook her head. Her lips were pressed so tightly together that her lipstick almost disappeared. \"That was very frightening. I suppose I understand the urge to pass on news like that, and immediately, but I still haven't entirely forgiven the management of the Wradling for doing it that way. I don't think I'll be staying there again.\"\n\n\"Did your husband go on to his meetings?\"\n\n\"They were canceled. I imagine a lot of meetings were canceled that day. We stayed in bed with the TV on until the sun came up, trying to get our heads around it. Do you know what I mean?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"We talked about who might have been there that we knew. I suppose we weren't the only ones doing that, either.\"\n\n\"Did you come up with anyone?\"\n\n\"A broker from Shearson Lehman and the assistant manager of the Borders book store in the mall,\" she said. \"One of them was all right. One of them... well, you know, one of them wasn't. What about you?\"\n\nSo I didn't have to sneak up on it, after all. We weren't even at the restaurant yet and here it was.\n\n\"I would have been there,\" I said. \"I should have been there. It's where I worked. In an insurance company on the hundred and tenth floor.\"\n\nShe stopped dead on the sidewalk, looking up at me, eyes wide. I suppose to the people who had to veer around us, we must have looked like lovers. \"Scott, no!\"\n\n\"Scott, yes,\" I said. And finally told someone about how I woke up on September eleventh expecting to do all the things I usually did on weekdays, from the cup of black coffee while I shaved all the way to the cup of cocoa in front of the midnight news summary on Channel Thirteen. A day like any other day, that was what I had in mind. I think that is what Americans had come to expect as their right. Well, guess what? That's an airplane! Flying into the side of a skyscraper! Ha-ha, asshole, the joke's on you, and half the goddam world's laughing!\n\nI told her about looking out my apartment window and seeing the seven A.M. sky was perfectly cloudless, the sort of blue so deep you think you can almost see through it to the stars beyond. Then I told her about the voice. I think everyone has various voices in their heads and we get used to them. When I was sixteen, one of mine spoke up and suggested it might be quite a kick to masturbate into a pair of my sister's underpants. She has about a thousand pairs and surely won't miss one, y'all, the voice opined. (I did not tell Paula Robeson about this particular adolescent adventure.) I'd have to call that the voice of utter irresponsibility, more familiarly known as Mr. Yow, Git Down.\n\n\"Mr. Yow, Git Down?\" Paula asked doubtfully.\n\n\"In honor of James Brown, the King of Soul.\"\n\n\"If you say so.\"\n\nMr. Yow, Git Down had had less and less to say to me, especially since I'd pretty much given up drinking, and on that day he awoke from his doze just long enough to speak a dozen words, but they were life-changers. Life-savers.\n\nThe first five (that's me, sitting on the edge of the bed): Yow, call in sick, y'all! The next seven (that's me, plodding toward the shower and scratching my left buttock as I go): Yow, spend the day in Central Park! There was no premonition involved. It was clearly Mr. Yow, Git Down, not the voice of God. It was just a version of my very own voice (as they all are), in other words, telling me to play hooky. Do a little suffin fo' yo'self, Gre't God! The last time I could recall hearing this version of my voice, the subject had been a karaoke contest at a bar on Amsterdam Avenue: Yow, sing along wit' Neil Diamond, fool\u2014git up on stage and git ya bad self down!\n\n\"I guess I know what you mean,\" she said, smiling a little.\n\n\"Do you?\"\n\n\"Well... I once took off my shirt in a Key West bar and won ten dollars dancing to 'Honky Tonk Women.'\" She paused. \"Edward doesn't know, and if you ever tell him, I'll be forced to stab you in the eye with one of his tie tacks.\"\n\n\"Yow, you go, girl,\" I said, and her smile became a rather wistful grin. It made her look younger. I thought this had a chance of working.\n\nWe walked into Donald's. There was a cardboard turkey on the door, cardboard Pilgrims on the green tile wall above the steam table.\n\n\"I listened to Mr. Yow, Git Down and I'm here,\" I said. \"But some other things are here, too, and he can't help with them. They're things I can't seem to get rid of. Those are what I want to talk to you about.\"\n\n\"Let me repeat that I'm no shrink,\" she said, and with more than a trace of uneasiness. The grin was gone. \"I majored in German and minored in European history.\"\n\nYou and your husband must have a lot to talk about, I thought. What I said out loud was that it didn't have to be her, necessarily, just someone.\n\n\"All right. Just as long as you know.\"\n\nA waiter took our drink orders, decaf for her, regular for me. Once he went away she asked me what things I was talking about.\n\n\"This is one of them.\" From my pocket I withdrew the Lucite cube with the steel penny suspended inside it and put it on the table. Then I told her about the other things, and to whom they had belonged. Cleve \"Besboll been bery-bery good to me\" Farrell. Maureen Hannon, who wore her hair long to her waist as a sign of her corporate indispensability. Jimmy Eagleton, who had a divine nose for phony accident claims, a son with learning disabilities, and a Farting Cushion he kept safely tucked away in his desk until the Christmas party rolled around each year. Sonja D'Amico, Light and Bell's best accountant, who had gotten the Lolita sunglasses as a bitter divorce present from her first husband. Bruce \"Lord of the Flies\" Mason, who would always stand shirtless in my mind's eye, blowing his conch on Jones Beach while the waves rolled up and expired around his bare feet. Last of all, Misha Bryzinski, with whom I'd gone to at least a dozen Mets games. I told her about putting everything but Misha's Punch doll in a trash basket on the corner of Park and 75th, and how they had beaten me back to my apartment, possibly because I had stopped for a second order of General Tso's chicken. During all of this, the Lucite cube stood on the table between us. We managed to eat at least some of our meal in spite of his stern profile.\n\nWhen I was finished talking, I felt better than I'd dared to hope. But there was a silence from her side of the table that felt terribly heavy.\n\n\"So,\" I said, to break it. \"What do you think?\"\n\nShe took a moment to consider that, and I didn't blame her. \"I think that we're not the strangers we were,\" she said finally, \"and making a new friend is never a bad thing. I think I'm glad I know about Mr. Yow, Git Down and that I told you what I did.\"\n\n\"I am, too.\" And it was true.\n\n\"Now may I ask you two questions?\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"How much of what they call 'survivor guilt' are you feeling?\"\n\n\"I thought you said you weren't a shrink.\"\n\n\"I'm not, but I read the magazines and have even been known to watch Oprah. That my husband does know, although I prefer not to rub his nose in it. So... how much, Scott?\"\n\nI considered the question. It was a good one\u2014and, of course, it was one I'd asked myself on more than one of those sleepless nights. \"Quite a lot,\" I said. \"Also, quite a lot of relief, I won't lie about that. If Mr. Yow, Git Down was a real person, he'd never have to pick up another restaurant tab. Not when I was with him, at least.\" I paused. \"Does that shock you?\"\n\nShe reached across the table and briefly touched my hand. \"Not even a little.\"\n\nHearing her say that made me feel better than I would have believed. I gave her hand a brief squeeze and then let it go. \"What's your other question?\"\n\n\"How important to you is it that I believe your story about these things coming back?\"\n\nI thought this was an excellent question, even though the Lucite cube was right there next to the sugar bowl. Such items are not exactly rare, after all. And I thought that if she had majored in psychology rather than German, she probably would have done fine.\n\n\"Not as important as I thought an hour ago,\" I said. \"Just telling it has been a help.\"\n\nShe nodded and smiled. \"Good. Now here's my best guess: someone is very likely playing a game with you. Not a nice one.\"\n\n\"Trickin' on me,\" I said. I tried not to show it, but I'd rarely been so disappointed. Maybe a layer of disbelief settles over people in certain circumstances, protecting them. Or maybe\u2014probably\u2014I hadn't conveyed my own sense that this thing was just... happening. Still happening. The way avalanches do.\n\n\"Trickin' on you,\" she agreed, and then: \"But you don't believe it.\"\n\nMore points for perception. I nodded. \"I locked the door when I went out, and it was locked when I came back from Staples. I heard the clunk the tumblers make when they turn. They're loud. You can't miss them.\"\n\n\"Still... survivor guilt is a funny thing. And powerful, at least according to the magazines.\"\n\n\"This...\" This isn't survivor guilt was what I meant to say, but it would have been the wrong thing. I had a fighting chance to make a new friend here, and having a new friend would be good, no matter how the rest of this came out. So I amended it. \"I don't think this is survivor guilt.\" I pointed to the Lucite cube. \"It's right there, isn't it? Like Sonja's sunglasses. You see it. I do, too. I suppose I could have bought it myself, but...\" I shrugged, trying to convey what we both surely knew: anything is possible.\n\n\"I don't think you did that. But neither can I accept the idea that a trapdoor opened between reality and the twilight zone and these things fell out.\"\n\nYes, that was the problem. For Paula the idea that the Lucite cube and the other things which had appeared in my apartment had some supernatural origin was automatically off-limits, no matter how much the facts might seem to support the idea. What I needed to do was to decide if I needed to argue the point more than I needed to make a friend.\n\nI decided I did not.\n\n\"All right,\" I said. I caught the waiter's eye and made a check-writing gesture in the air. \"I can accept your inability to accept.\"\n\n\"Can you?\" she asked, looking at me closely.\n\n\"Yes.\" And I thought it was true. \"If, that is, we could have a cup of coffee from time to time. Or just say hi in the lobby.\"\n\n\"Absolutely.\" But she sounded absent, not really in the conversation. She was looking at the Lucite cube with the steel penny inside it. Then she looked up at me. I could almost see a lightbulb appearing over her head, like in a cartoon. She reached out and grasped the cube with one hand. I could never convey the depth of the dread I felt when she did that, but what could I say? We were New Yorkers in a clean, well-lighted place. For her part, she'd already laid down the ground rules, and they pretty firmly excluded the supernatural. The supernatural was out of bounds. Anything hit there was a do-over.\n\nAnd there was a light in Paula's eyes. One that suggested Ms. Yow, Git Down was in the house, and I know from personal experience that's a hard voice to resist.\n\n\"Give it to me,\" she proposed, smiling into my eyes. When she did that I could see\u2014for the first time, really\u2014that she was sexy as well as pretty.\n\n\"Why?\" As if I didn't know.\n\n\"Call it my fee for listening to your story.\"\n\n\"I don't know if that's such a good\u2014\"\n\n\"It is, though,\" she said. She was warming to her own inspiration, and when people do that, they rarely take no for an answer. \"It's a great idea. I'll make sure this piece of memorabilia at least doesn't come back to you, wagging its tail behind it. We've got a safe in the apartment.\" She made a charming little pantomime gesture of shutting a safe door, twirling the combination, and then throwing the key back over her shoulder.\n\n\"All right,\" I said. \"It's my gift to you.\" And I felt something that might have been mean-spirited gladness. Call it the voice of Mr. Yow, You'll Find Out. Apparently just getting it off my chest wasn't enough, after all. She hadn't believed me, and at least part of me did want to be believed and resented Paula for not getting what it wanted. That part knew that letting her take the Lucite cube was an absolutely terrible idea, but was glad to see her tuck it away in her purse, just the same.\n\n\"There,\" she said briskly. \"Mama say bye-bye, make all gone. Maybe when it doesn't come back in a week\u2014or two, I guess it all depends on how stubborn your subconscious wants to be\u2014you can start giving the rest of the things away.\" And her saying that was her real gift to me that day, although I didn't know it then.\n\n\"Maybe so,\" I said, and smiled. Big smile for the new friend. Big smile for pretty Mama. All the time thinking, You'll find out.\n\nYow.\n\nShe did.\n\nThree nights later, while I was watching Chuck Scarborough explain the city's latest transit woes on the six o'clock news, my doorbell rang. Since no one had been announced, I assumed it was a package, maybe even Rafe with something from FedEx. I opened the door and there stood Paula Robeson.\n\nThis was not the woman with whom I'd had lunch. Call this version of Paula Ms. Yow, Ain't That Chemotherapy Nasty. She was wearing a little lipstick but nothing else in the way of makeup, and her complexion was a sickly shade of yellow-white. There were dark brownish-purple arcs under her eyes. She might have given her hair a token swipe with the brush before coming down from the fifth floor, but it hadn't done much good. It looked like straw and stuck out on either side of her head in a way that would have been comic-strip funny under other circumstances. She was holding the Lucite cube up in front of her breasts, allowing me to note that the well-kept nails on that hand were gone. She'd chewed them away, right down to the quick. And my first thought, God help me, was yep, she found out.\n\nShe held it out to me. \"Take it back,\" she said.\n\nI did so without a word.\n\n\"His name was Roland Abelson,\" she said. \"Wasn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"He had red hair.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Not married but paying child support to a woman in Rahway.\"\n\nI hadn't known that\u2014didn't believe anyone at Light and Bell had known that\u2014but I nodded again, and not just to keep her rolling. I was sure she was right. \"What was her name, Paula?\" Not knowing why I was asking, not yet, just knowing I had to know.\n\n\"Tonya Gregson.\" It was as if she was in a trance. There was something in her eyes, though, something so terrible I could hardly stand to look at it. Nevertheless, I stored the name away. Tonya Gregson, Rahway. And then, like some guy doing stockroom inventory: One Lucite cube with penny inside.\n\n\"He tried to crawl under his desk, did you know that? No, I can see you didn't. His hair was on fire and he was crying. Because in that instant he understood he was never going to own a catamaran or even mow his lawn again.\" She reached out and put a hand on my cheek, a gesture so intimate it would have been shocking had her hand not been so cold. \"At the end, he would have given every cent he had, and every stock option he held, just to be able to mow his lawn again. Do you believe that?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"The place was full of screams, he could smell jet fuel, and he understood it was his dying hour. Do you understand that? Do you understand the enormity of that?\"\n\nI nodded. I couldn't speak. You could have put a gun to my head and I still wouldn't have been able to speak.\n\n\"The politicians talk about memorials and courage and wars to end terrorism, but burning hair is apolitical.\" She bared her teeth in an unspeakable grin. A moment later it was gone. \"He was trying to crawl under his desk with his hair on fire. There was a plastic thing under his desk, a what-do-you-call it\u2014\"\n\n\"Mat\u2014\"\n\n\"Yes, a mat, a plastic mat, and his hands were on that and he could feel the ridges in the plastic and smell his own burning hair. Do you understand that?\"\n\nI nodded. I started to cry. It was Roland Abelson we were talking about, this guy I used to work with. He was in Liability and I didn't know him very well. To say hi to is all; how was I supposed to know he had a kid in Rahway? And if I hadn't played hooky that day, my hair probably would have burned, too. I'd never really understood that before.\n\n\"I don't want to see you again,\" she said. She flashed her gruesome grin once more, but now she was crying, too. \"I don't care about your problems. I don't care about any of the shit you found. We're quits. From now on you leave me alone.\" She started to turn away, then turned back. She said: \"They did it in the name of God, but there is no God. If there was a God, Mr. Staley, He would have struck all eighteen of them dead in their boarding lounges with their boarding passes in their hands, but no God did. They called for passengers to get on and those fucks just got on.\"\n\nI watched her walk back to the elevator. Her back was very stiff. Her hair stuck out on either side of her head, making her look like a girl in a Sunday funnies cartoon. She didn't want to see me anymore, and I didn't blame her. I closed the door and looked at the steel Abe Lincoln in the Lucite cube. I looked at him for quite a long time. I thought about how the hair of his beard would have smelled if U.S. Grant had stuck one of his everlasting cigars in it. That unpleasant frying aroma. On TV, someone was saying that there was a mattress blowout going on at Sleepy's. After that, Len Berman came on and talked about the Jets.\n\nThat night I woke up at two in the morning, listening to the voices whisper. I hadn't had any dreams or visions of the people who owned the objects, hadn't seen anyone with their hair on fire or jumping from the windows to escape the burning jet fuel, but why would I? I knew who they were, and the things they left behind had been left for me. Letting Paula Robeson take the Lucite cube had been wrong, but only because she was the wrong person.\n\nAnd speaking of Paula, one of the voices was hers. You can start giving the rest of the things away, it said. And it said, I guess it all depends on how stubborn your subconscious wants to be.\n\nI lay back down and after a while I was able to go to sleep. I dreamed I was in Central Park, feeding the ducks, when all at once there was a loud noise like a sonic boom and smoke filled the sky. In my dream, the smoke smelled like burning hair.\n\nI thought about Tonya Gregson in Rahway\u2014Tonya and the child who might or might not have Roland Abelson's eyes\u2014and thought I'd have to work up to that one. I decided to start with Bruce Mason's widow.\n\nI took the train to Dobbs Ferry and called a taxi from the station. The cabbie took me to a Cape Cod house on a residential street. I gave him some money, told him to wait\u2014I wouldn't be long\u2014and rang the doorbell. I had a box under one arm. It looked like the kind that contains a bakery cake.\n\nI only had to ring once because I'd called ahead and Janice Mason was expecting me. I had my story carefully prepared and told it with some confidence, knowing that the taxi sitting in the driveway, its meter running, would forestall any detailed cross-examination.\n\nOn September seventh, I said\u2014the Friday before\u2014I had tried to blow a note from the conch Bruce kept on his desk, as I had heard Bruce himself do at the Jones Beach picnic. (Janice, Mrs. Lord of the Flies, nodding; she had been there, of course.) Well, I said, to make a long story short, I had persuaded Bruce to let me have the conch shell over the weekend so I could practice. Then, on Tuesday morning, I'd awakened with a raging sinus infection and a horrible headache to go with it. (This was a story I had already told several people.) I'd been drinking a cup of tea when I heard the boom and saw the rising smoke. I hadn't thought of the conch shell again until just this week. I'd been cleaning out my little utility closet and by damn, there it was. And I just thought... well, it's not much of a keepsake, but I just thought maybe you'd like to... you know...\n\nHer eyes filled up with tears just as mine had when Paula brought back Roland Abelson's \"retirement fund,\" only these weren't accompanied by the look of fright that I'm sure was on my own face as Paula stood there with her stiff hair sticking out on either side of her head. Janice told me she would be glad to have any keepsake of Bruce.\n\n\"I can't get over the way we said good-bye,\" she said, holding the box in her arms. \"He always left very early because he took the train. He kissed me on the cheek and I opened one eye and asked him if he'd bring back a pint of half-and-half. He said he would. That's the last thing he ever said to me. When he asked me to marry him, I felt like Helen of Troy\u2014stupid but absolutely true\u2014and I wish I'd said something better than 'ring home a pint of half-and-half. ' But we'd been married a long time, and it seemed like business as usual that day, and... we don't know, do we?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Yes. Any parting could be forever, and we don't know. Thank you, Mr. Staley. For coming out and bringing me this. That was very kind.\" She smiled a little then. \"Do you remember how he stood on the beach with his shirt off and blew it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, and looked at the way she held the box. Later she would sit down and take the shell out and hold it on her lap and cry. I knew that the conch, at least, would never come back to my apartment. It was home.\n\nI returned to the station and caught the train back to New York. The cars were almost empty at that time of day, early afternoon, and I sat by a rain- and dirt-streaked window, looking out at the river and the approaching skyline. On cloudy and rainy days, you almost seem to be creating that skyline out of your own imagination, a piece at a time.\n\nTomorrow I'd go to Rahway, with the penny in the Lucite cube. Perhaps the child would take it in his or her chubby hand and look at it curiously. In any case, it would be out of my life. I thought the only difficult thing to get rid of would be Jimmy Eagleton's Farting Cushion\u2014I could hardly tell Mrs. Eagleton I'd brought it home for the weekend in order to practice using it, could I? But necessity is the mother of invention, and I was confident that I would eventually think of some halfway plausible story.\n\nIt occurred to me that other things might show up, in time. And I'd be lying if I told you I found that possibility entirely unpleasant. When it comes to returning things which people believe have been lost forever, things that have weight, there are compensations. Even if they're only little things, like a pair of joke sunglasses or a steel penny in a Lucite cube... yeah. I'd have to say there are compensations.\nJOHN FARRIS\n\nJohn Farris began writing fiction in high school. At 22, while he was studying at the University of Missouri, his first major novel, Harrison High, was published; it became a bestseller. He has worked in many genres\u2014suspense, horror, mystery\u2014while transcending each through the power of his writing. The New York Times noted his talent for \"masterfully devious plotting\" while reviewing The Captors. All Heads Turn When the Hunt Goes By was cited in an essay published in Horror: 100 Best Books, which concluded, \"The field's most powerful individual voice... when John Farris is on high-burn, no one can match the skill with which he puts words together.\" In the 1990s, he turned exclusively to thrillers, publishing Dragonfly, Soon She Will Be Gone, Solar Eclipse, and Sacrifice, of which Richard Matheson wrote, \"John Farris has once again elevated the terror genre into the realm of literature.\" Commenting on Dragonfly, Ed Gorman said, \"Dragonfly has style, heart, cunning, terror, irony, suspense, and genuine surprise\u2014and an absolutely fearless look into the souls of people very much like you and me.\" And Publishers Weekly concluded, \"(he writes with) a keen knowledge of human nature and a wicked sense of humor.\" John Farris received the 2001 Bram Stoker Award for Lifetime Achievement from the Horror Writers Association. His latest novel is Phantom Nights.\n\nTHE RANSOME WOMEN\n\nJohn Farris\n\nONE\n\nEcho Halloran first became aware of the Woman in Black during a visit to the Highbridge Museum of Art in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Echo and her boss were dealing that day with the chief curator of the Highbridge, a man named Charles Carwood. The Highbridge was in the process of deacquisitioning, as they say in the trade, a number of paintings, mostly by twentieth-century artists whose stock had remained stable in the fickle art world. The Highbridge was in difficulty with the IRS and Carwood was looking for around thirty million for a group of Representationalists.\n\nEcho's boss was Stefan Konine, director of Gilbard's, the New York auction house. Stefan was a big man, florid as a poached salmon, who lied about his age and played the hay burners for recreation. He wore J. Dege & Sons suits with the aplomb of royalty. He wasn't much interested in Representationalists and preferred to let Echo, who had done her thesis at NYU on the Boquillas School, carry the ball while the paintings were reverently brought, one by one, to their attention in the seventh-floor conference room. The weather outside was blue and clear. Through a nice spread of windows the view to the south included the Charles River.\n\nEcho had worked for Konine for a little over a year. They had established an almost familial rapport. Echo kept busy with her laptop on questions of provenance while Stefan sipped Chablis and regarded each painting with the same dyspeptic expression, as if he were trying to digest a bowling ball he'd had for lunch. His mind was mostly on the trifecta he had working at Belmont, but he was alert to the nuances of each glance Echo sent his way. They were a team. They knew each other's signals.\n\nCarwood said, \"And we have this exquisite David Herrera from the Oppenheim estate, probably the outstanding piece of David's Big Bend Cycle.\"\n\nEcho smiled as two museum assistants wheeled in the oversize canvas. She was drinking 7Up, not Chablis.\n\nThe painting was in the style of Georgia O'Keeffe during her Santa Fe incarnation. Echo looked down at her laptop screen, hit a few keys, looked up again. It was a long stare, as if she were trying to see all the way to the Big Bend Country of Texas. After a couple of minutes Stefan raised a spikey eyebrow. Carwood fidgeted on his settee. His eyes were on Echo. He had done some staring himself, from the moment Echo was introduced to him.\n\nThere are beauties who stop traffic and there are beauties who grow obsessively in the hearts of the susceptible; Echo Halloran was one of those. She had a full mane of wraparound dark hair. Her eyes were large and round and dark as polished buckeyes, deeply flecked with gold. Sprightly as a genie, endowed with a wealth of breeding and self-esteem, she viewed the world with an intensity of favor that piqued the wonder of strangers.\n\nWhen she cleared her throat Carwood started nervously. Stefan looked lazily at his prot\u00e9g\u00e9e, with the beginning of a wise smile. He sensed an intrigue.\n\nCarwood said, \"Perhaps you'd care to have a closer look, Miss Halloran? The light from the windows\u2014\"\n\n\"The light is fine.\" Echo settled back in her seat. She closed her eyes and touched the center of her forehead with two fingers. \"I've seen enough. I'm very sorry, Mr. Carwood. But that canvas isn't David Herrera's work.\"\n\n\"Oh, my dear,\" Carwood said, drawing a pained breath as if he were trying to decide whether a tantrum or a seizure was called for, \"you must be extremely careful about making potentially actionable judgments\u2014\"\n\n\"I am,\" Echo said, and opened her eyes wide, \"always careful. It's a fake. And not the first fake Herrera I've seen. Give me a couple of hours and I'll tell you which of his students painted it, and when.\"\n\nCarwood attempted to appeal to Stefan, who held up a cautionary finger.\n\n\"But that will cost you a thousand dollars for Miss Halloran's time and expertise. A thousand dollars an hour. I would advise you to pay it. She's very good. As for the lot you've shown us today\u2014\" Stefan got to his feet with a nod of good cheer. \"Thank you for considering Gilbard's. I'm afraid our schedule is unusually crowded for the fall season. Why don't you try Sotheby's?\"\n\nFor a man of his bulk, Stefan did a good job of imitating a capering circus bear in the elevator going down to the lobby of the Highbridge.\n\n\"Now, Stefan,\" Echo said serenely.\n\n\"But I loved seeing dear old Carwood go into the crapper.\"\n\n\"I didn't realize he was another of your old enemies.\"\n\n\"Enemy? I don't hold Charles in such high regard. He's simply a pompous ass. If he were mugged for his wits, he would only impoverish the thief. So tell me, who perpetrated the fraud?\"\n\n\"Not sure. Either Fimmel or Arzate. Anyway, you can't get a fake Herrera past me.\"\n\n\"I'm sure it helps to have a photographic memory.\"\n\nEcho grinned.\n\n\"Perhaps you should be doing my job.\"\n\n\"Now, Stefan.\" Echo reached out to press the second-floor button.\n\n\"Some day you will have my job. But you'll have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers.\"\n\nEcho grinned again. The elevator stopped on two.\n\n\"What are you doing? Aren't we leaving?\"\n\n\"In a little while.\" Echo stepped off the elevator and beckoned to Stefan. \"This way.\"\n\n\"What? Where are you dragging me to? I'm desperate to have a smoke and find out how My Little Margie placed in the fourth.\"\n\nEcho looked at her new watch, a twenty-second birthday present from her fiance that she knew had cost far more than either of them should have been spending on presents.\n\n\"There's time. I want to see the Ransome they've borrowed for their show of twentieth-century portraitists.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear God!\" But he got off the elevator with Echo. \"I detest Ransome! Such transparent theatrics. I've seen better art on a sailor's ass.\"\n\n\"Really, Stefan?\"\n\n\"Although not all that recently, I'm sorry to say.\"\n\nThe gallery in which the exhibition was being mounted was temporarily closed to the public, but they wore badges allowing them access to any part of the Highbridge. Echo ignored frowns from a couple of dithering functionaries and went straight to the portrait by Ransome that was already in place and lighted.\n\nThe subject was a seated nude, blond, Godiva hair. Ransome's style was impressionistic, his canvas flooded with light. The young woman was casually posed, like a Degas girl taking a backstage break, her face partly averted. Stefan had his usual attitude of near-suicidal disdain. But he found it hard to look away. Great artists were hypnotists with a brush.\n\n\"I suppose we must give him credit for his excellent eye for beauty.\"\n\n\"It's marvelous,\" Echo said softly.\n\n\"As Delacroix said, 'One never paints violently enough.' We must also give Ransome credit for doing violence to his canvases. And I must have an Armagnac, if the bar downstairs is open. Echo?\"\n\n\"I'm coming,\" she said, hands folded like an acolyte's in front of her as she gazed up at the painting with a faintly worshipful smile.\n\nStefan shrugged when she failed to budge. \"I don't wish to impose on your infatuation. Suppose you join me in the limo in twenty minutes?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Echo murmured.\n\nAbsorbed in her study of John Leland Ransome's technique, Echo didn't immediately pay attention to that little barb at the back of her neck that told her she was being closely observed by someone.\n\nWhen she turned she saw a woman standing twenty feet away ignoring the Ransome on the wall, staring instead at Echo.\n\nThe woman was dressed all in black, which seemed to Echo both obsessive and oppressive in high summer. But it was elegant, tasteful couture. She wasn't wearing jewelry. She was, perhaps, excessively made up, but striking nonetheless. Mature, but Echo couldn't guess her age. Her features were immobile, masklike. The directness of her gaze, a burning in her eyes, gave Echo a couple of bad moments. She knew a pickup line was coming. She'd averaged three of these encounters a week since puberty.\n\nBut the stare went on, and the woman said nothing. It had the effect of getting Echo's Irish up.\n\n\"Excuse me,\" Echo said. \"Have we met?\" Her expression read, Whatever you're thinking, forget it, Queenie.\n\nNot so much as a startled blink. After a few more seconds the woman looked rather deliberately from Echo to the Ransome painting on the wall. She studied that for a short time, then turned and walked away as if Echo no longer existed, heels clicking on the gallery floor.\n\nEcho's shoulders twitched in a spidery spasm. She glanced at a portly museum guard who also was eyeing the woman in black.\n\n\"Who is that?\"\n\nThe guard shrugged. \"Beats me. She's been around since noon. I think she's from the gallery in New York.\" He looked up at the Ransome portrait. \"His gallery. You know how fussy these painters get about their placement in shows.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh. Doesn't she talk?\"\n\n\"Not to me,\" the guard said.\n\nThe limousine Stefan had hired for the day was parked in a taxi zone outside the High-bridge. Stefan was leaning on the limo getting track updates on his BlackBerry. There was a Daily Racing Form lying on the trunk.\n\nHe put away his BlackBerry with a surly expression when Echo approached. My Little Margie must have finished out of the money.\n\n\"So the spell is finally broken. I suppose we could have arranged for a cot to be moved in for the night.\"\n\n\"Thanks for being so patient with me, Stefan.\"\n\nThey lingered on the sidewalk, enjoying balmy weather. New York had been a stewpot when they'd left that morning.\n\n\"It's all hype, you know,\" Stefan said, looking up at the gold and glass facade of the Cesar Pelli-designed building. \"The Ransomes of the art world excel at manipulation. The scarcity of his work only makes it more desirable to the vulturati.\"\n\n\"No, I think it's the quality that's rare, Stefan. Courbet, Bonnard, he shares their sense of... call it a divine melancholy.\"\n\n\"'Divine melancholy.' Nicely put. I must remember to filch that one for my ARTnews column. Where are we having dinner tonight? You did remember to make reservations? Echo?\"\n\nEcho was looking past him at the Woman in Black, who had walked out of the museum and was headed for a taxi.\n\nStefan turned. \"Who, or what, is that?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I saw her in the gallery. Caught her staring at me.\" Uncanny, Echo thought, how much she resembled the black queen on Echo's chessboard at home.\n\n\"Apparently, from her lack of interest now, you rebuffed her.\"\n\nEcho shook her head. \"No. Actually she never said a word. Dinner? Stefan, I'm sorry. You're set at Legal's with the Bronwyns for eight-thirty. But I have to get back to New York. I thought I told you. Engagement party tonight. Peter's sister.\"\n\n\"Which sister? There seems to be a multitude.\"\n\n\"Siobhan. The last one to go.\"\n\n\"Not that huge, clumsy girl with the awful bangs?\"\n\n\"Hush. She's really very sweet.\"\n\n\"Now that Peter has earned his gold shield, am I correct to assume the next engagement party will be yours?\"\n\n\"Yes. As soon as we all recover from this one.\" Stefan looked deeply aggrieved. \"Echo, have you any idea what childbearing will do to your lovely complexion?\"\n\nEcho looked at her watch and smiled apologetically.\n\n\"I can just make the four o'lock Acela.\"\n\n\"Well, then. Get in.\"\n\nEcho was preoccupied with answering e-mail during their short trip up Memorial Drive and across the river to Boston's South Station. She didn't notice that the taxi the Woman in Black had claimed was behind them all the way.\n\nHi Mom,\n\nBusy day. I had to hustle but I made the four o'lock train. I'll probably go straight to Queens from the station so won't be home until after midnight. Scored points with the boss today; tell you all about it at breakfast. Called Uncle Rory at the Home, but the Sister on his floor told me he probably wouldn't know who I was...\n\nThe Acela was rolling quietly through a tunnel on its way out of the city. In her coach seat Echo, riding backwards, looked up from the laptop she'd spent too much time with today. Her vision was blurry, the back of her neck was stiff, and she had a headache. She looked at her reflection in the window, which disappeared as the train emerged into bright sunlight. She winced and closed her laptop after sending the message to her mother, rummaged in her soft-leather shoulder bag for Advil and swallowed three with sips of designer water. Then she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.\n\nWhen she looked up again she saw the Woman in Black looking solemnly at her before she opened the vestibule door and disappeared in the direction of the club car.\n\nThe look didn't mean anything. The fact that they were on the same train didn't mean anything either. Even so for a good part of the trip to New York, while Echo tried to nap, she couldn't get the woman out of her mind.\n\nTWO\n\nAfter getting eight stitches to close the cut near his left eye at the hospital in Flatbush, Peter O'Neill's partner Ray Scalla drove him to the 7-5 station house, where Pete retrieved his car and continued home to Bayside, Queens. By then he'd put in a twelve-hour day, but he had a couple of line-of-duty off days coming.\n\nThe engagement party for his sister Siobhan was roaring along by the time he got to the three-story brick-and-shingle house on Compton Place, and he had to hunt for a parking space a block and a half away. He walked back to the house swapping smack with neighborhood kids on their bikes and skateboards. The left eye felt swollen. He needed an ice bag, but a cold beer would be the first order of business. Make it two beers.\n\nThe O'Neill house was lit up to the roof-line. Floodlights illuminated half a dozen guys playing a scuffling game of basketball in the driveway. Peter was related one way or another to all of them, and to everyone on the teeming porch.\n\nHis brother Tommy, a freshman at Hofstra on a football scholarship, fished in a tub of cracked ice and pitched Pete a twelve-ounce Rolling Rock as he walked up to the stoop. Kids with Game Boys cluttered the steps. His sister Kathleen, just turned thirty, was barefoot on the front lawn, gently rocking an infant to sleep on her shoulder. She gave Pete a kiss and frowned at the patched eye.\n\n\"So when's number four due?\"\n\n\"You mean number five,\" Kathleen said. \"October ninth, Petey.\"\n\n\"Guess I got behind on the count when I was workin' undercover.\" Pete popped the tab top on the icy Rock and drank half of it while he watched some of the half-court action on the driveway. He laughed. \"Hey, Kath. Tell your old man to give up pasta or give up hoops.\"\n\nBrother Tommy came down to the walk and put an arm around him. He was a linebacker, three inches taller than the five-eleven Peter but no wider in the shoulders. Big shoulders were a family hallmark, unfortunately for the women.\n\nOne of the basketball players got stuffed driving for a layup, and they both laughed.\n\n\"Hey, Vito!\" Pete called. \"Come on hard or keep it in your pants!\" He finished off the beer and crushed the can. \"Echo make it back from Boston?\" he asked Tommy.\n\n\"She's inside. Nice shiner.\"\n\nPete said ruefully, \"My collar give it to me.\"\n\n\"Too bad they don't hand out Purple Hearts downtown.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but they'll throw you a swell funeral,\" Pete said, forgetting momentarily what a remark like that meant to the women in a family of cops. Kathleen set him straight with a stinging slap to the back of his head. Then she crossed herself.\n\n\"God and Blessed Mother! Don't you ever say that again, Petey!\"\n\nLike the rest of the house, the kitchen was full of people helping themselves to beer and food. Peter gave his mom a kiss and looked at Echo, who was taking a pan of hors d'oeuvres out of the oven with oven mitts. She was moist from the heat at her temples and under her eyes. She gave Pete, or the butterfly patches above his eye, a look and sat him down on a stool near the door to the back porch for a closer appraisal. Pete's middle sister Jessie handed him a bulging hero.\n\n\"Little bitty girl,\" Pete said. \"One of those wiry types, you know? She was on crank and I don't know what else.\"\n\n\"Just missed your eye,\" Echo said, tight-lipped.\n\n\"Live and learn.\" Peter bit into his sandwich.\n\n\"You get a tetanus booster?\"\n\n\"Sure. How was your day?\"\n\n\"I did great,\" Echo said, still finding small ways to fuss over him: brushing his hair back from his forehead with the heel of one hand, dabbing at a drip of sauce on his chin with a napkin. \"I deserve a raise.\"\n\n\"About time. How's your mom?\"\n\n\"Didn't have a real good day, Julia said. Want another beer?\"\n\n\"Makes you think I had one already?\"\n\n\"Ha-ha,\" Echo said; she went out to the porch to fish the beer from the depths of the cooler. Peter's sister Siobhan, the bride-to-be, followed her unsteadily inside, back on her heels from an imaginary gale in her face. Her eyes not tracking well. She embraced Peter with a goofy smile.\n\n\"I'm so happy!\"\n\n\"We're happy for you, Siobhan.\" At thirty-five she was the oldest of the seven O'eill children, and the least well favored. Putting it mildly.\n\nHer fiance appeared in the doorway behind Siobhan. He was a head shorter, gap-toothed, had a bad haircut. A software salesman. Doing very well. He drove a Cadillac, had put a down payment on a condo in Valley Stream and was planning an expensive honeymoon cruise. The diamond on Siobhan's finger was a big one.\n\nPeter saluted the fiance with his can of beer. Siobhan straightened unsteadily and embraced Echo too, belching loudly.\n\n\"Oops. Get any on ya?\"\n\n\"No, sweetie,\" Echo said, and passed her on to the fiance, who chuckled and guided her through the kitchen to a bathroom. Peter shook his head.\n\n\"What they say about opposites.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Siobhan has a lot to learn. She still thinks 'fellatio' is an Italian opera.\"\n\n\"You mean it's not?\" Echo said, wide-eyed. Then she patted his cheek. \"Lay off. I love Siobhan. I love all your family.\"\n\nPeter put the arm on his fourteen-year-old brother Casey as he came inside from the porch, and crushed him affectionately.\n\n\"Even the retards?\"\n\n\"Get outta here,\" Casey said, fighting him off.\n\n\"Casey's no retard, he's a lover,\" Echo said. \"Gimme a kiss, Case.\"\n\n\"No way!\" But Echo had him grinning.\n\n\"Don't waste those on that little fart,\" Pete said.\n\nCasey looked him over. \"Man, you're gonna have a shiner.\"\n\n\"I know.\" Pete looked casually at Echo and put his sandwich down. \"It's a sweatbox in here. Why don't we go upstairs a little while?\"\n\nCasey smiled wisely at them. \"Uh-uh. Aunt Pegeen put the twins to sleep on your bed.\" He waited for the look of frustration in Peter's eyes before he said, \"But I could let you use my room if you guys want to make out. Twenty bucks for an hour sound okay?\"\n\n\"Sounds like you think I'm a hooker,\" Echo said to Casey. Staring him down. Casey's shoulders dropped; he looked away uneasily.\n\n\"I didn't mean\u2014\"\n\n\"Now you got a good reason not to skip confession again this week,\" Peter said. Glancing at Echo, and noticing how tired she looked, having lost her grip on her upbeat mood.\n\nDriving Echo back to the city, Pete said, \"I just keep goin' round and round with the numbers, like a dog chasin' its tail. You know?\"\n\n\"Same here.\"\n\n\"Jesus, I'm twenty-six, ought to have my own place already instead of living home.\"\n\n\"Our own place. Trying to save anything these days. The taxes. Both of us still paying off college loans. Forty thousand each. My mom sick. Your mom was sick\u2014\"\n\n\"We both got good jobs. The money'll come together. But we'll need another year.\"\n\nPeter exited from the Queensboro Bridge and took First uptown. They were nearing 78th when Echo said, \"A year. How bad can that be?\" Her tone of voice said, miserable.\n\nThey waited on the light at 78th, looking at each other as if they were about to be cast into separate dungeons.\n\n\"Gotta tell you, Echo. I'm just goin' nuts. You know.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"It hasn't been easy for you either. Couple close calls, huh?\" He smiled ruefully.\n\nShe crossed her arms as if he'd issued a warning. \"Yeah.\"\n\n\"You know what I'm sayin'. We are gonna be married. No doubt about that. Is there?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"So\u2014how big a deal is it, really? An act of contrition\u2014\"\n\n\"Pete, I'm not happy being probably the only twenty-two-year-old virgin on the face of the earth. But confession's not the same as getting a ticket fixed. You know how I was brought up. It's God's law. That has to mean something, or none of it does.\"\n\nThe light changed. Peter drove two blocks and parked by a fire hydrant a few doors down from Echo's brownstone.\n\n\"Both your parents were of the cloth,\" he said. \"They renounced their vows and they made you. Made you for me. I can't believe God thought that was a sin.\"\n\nBlue and unhappy, Echo sank lower in her seat, arms still crossed, over her breasts and her crucifix.\n\n\"I love you so much. And I swear to Him, I'll always take care of you.\"\n\nAfter a long silence Echo said, \"I know. What do you want me to do, Pete?\"\n\n\"Has to be your call.\"\n\nShe sighed. \"No motels. I feel cheap that way, I can't help myself. Just know it wouldn't work.\"\n\n\"There's this buddy of mine at the squad, he was in my year at the Academy, Frank Ringer. Like maybe you met him at the K of C picnic in July?\"\n\n\"Oh. Yeah. Got a twitch in one eye? Really ripped, though.\"\n\n\"Right. Frank Ringer. Well, his uncle's got a place out on the Island. Way out, past Riverhead on Peconic Bay I think.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh.\"\n\n\"Frank's uncle travels a lot. Frank says he could make arrangements for us to go out there, maybe this weekend\u2014\"\n\n\"So you and Frank been having these discussions about our sex life?\"\n\n\"Nothing like that. I just mentioned we'd both like to get off somewhere for some R and R, that's all.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh.\"\n\n\"So in exchange for the favor I'd cover Frank's security job for him sometime. Echo?\"\n\n\"Guess I'd better be getting on up, see how mom is. Might be a long night; you know, I read to her when she can't\u2014\"\n\n\"So what do I tell Frank?\"\n\nEcho hesitated after she opened the door.\n\n\"This weekend sounds okay,\" she said. \"Does his uncle have a boat?\"\n\nThree A.M. and John Leland Ransome, the painter, was up and prowling barefoot around his apartment at the Hotel Pierre on Fifth Avenue. The doors to his terrace were open; the sounds of the city's streets had dwindled to the occasional swish of cabs or a bus seven stories below. There was lightning in the west, a plume of yellow-tinged dark clouds over New Jersey or the Hudson. Some rain moving into Manhattan, stirring the air ahead of it. A light wind that felt good on his face.\n\nRansome had a woman on his mind. Not unusual; his life and career were dedicated to capturing the essence of a very few uniquely stunning creatures. But this was someone he'd never seen or heard of until approximately eight o'lock the night before. And the few photos he'd seen, taken with a phone cam, hadn't revealed nearly enough of Echo Halloran to register her so strongly on his imagination.\n\nAnyway, it was too soon, he told himself. Better just to forget this one, the potential he'd glimpsed. His new show, the first in four years, was being mounted at his gallery. Five paintings only, his usual output after as much as eighteen painful months of work. He wouldn't be ready to pick up a brush for at least that length of time. If ever again.\n\nAnd half the world's population was women. More or less. A small but dependable percentage of them physically ravishing.\n\nBut this one was a painter herself, which intrigued him more than the one good shot of her he'd seen, taken on the train, Echo sitting back in her seat with her eyes closed, unaware that she was being photographed.\n\nRansome wondered if she had promise as a painter. But he could easily find out.\n\nHe lingered on the terrace until the first big drops of rain fell. He went inside, closing the doors, walked down a marble hall to the room in which Taja, wearing black silk lounging pajamas, was watching Singin'in the Rain on DVD. Another insomniac. She saw his reflection on the plasma screen and looked around. There was a hint of a contrite wince in his smile.\n\n\"I'll want more photos,\" he said. \"Complete background check, of course. And order a car for tomorrow. I'd like to observe her myself.\"\n\nTaja nodded, drew on a cigarette and returned her attention to the movie. Donald O'Connor falling over a sofa. She didn't smile. Taja never smiled at anything.\n\nTHREE\n\nIt rained all day Thursday; by six-thirty the clouds over Manhattan were parting for last glimpses of washed-out blue; canyon walls of geometric glass gave back the brassy sunset. Echo was able to walk the four blocks from her Life Studies class to the 14th Street subway without an umbrella. She was carrying her portfolio in addition to a shoulder tote and computer, having gone directly from her office at Gilbard's to class.\n\nThe uptown express platform was jammed, the atmosphere underground thick and fetid. Obviously there hadn't been a train for a while. There were unintelligible explanations or announcements on the P.A. Someone played a violin with heroic zeal. Echo edged her way up the platform to find breathing room where the first car would stop when the train got there.\n\nHalf a dozen Hispanic boys were scuffling, cutting up; a couple of the older ones gave her the eye. One of them, whom she took in at a glance, looked like trouble. Tats and piercings. Full of himself.\n\nA child of the urban jungle, Echo was skilled at minding her own business, building walls around herself when she was forced to linger in potentially bad company.\n\nShe pinned her bulky portfolio between her knees while she retrieved a half-full bottle of water from her tote. She was jostled from behind by a fat woman laden with shopping bags and almost lost her balance. The zipper on her portfolio had been broken for a while. A few drawings spilled out. Echo grimaced, nodded at the woman's brusque apology and tried to gather up her life studies before someone else stepped on them.\n\nOne of the younger Hispanic kids, wearing a do-rag and a Knicks jersey, came over to give her a hand. He picked up a charcoal sketch half-soaked in a puddle of water. Echo's problem had attracted the attention of all the boys.\n\nThe one she'd had misgivings about snatched the drawing from the hand of the Knicks fan and looked it over. A male nude. He showed it around, grinning. Then backed off when Echo held out a hand, silently asking for the return of her drawing. She heard the uptown express coming.\n\nThe boy looked at her. He wore his cholo shirt unbuttoned to his navel.\n\n\"Who's this guy? Your boyfriend?\"\n\n\"Give me a break, will you? I've had a long day, I'm tired, and I don't want to miss my train.\"\n\nThe boy pointed to the drawing and said, \"Man, I seen a bigger tool on a gerbil.\"\n\nThey all laughed as they gathered around, reinforcing him.\n\n\"No,\" Echo said. \"My boyfriend is on the cops, and I can arrange for you to meet him.\"\n\nThat provoked whistles, snorts, and jeers. Echo looked around at the slowing express train, and back at the boy who was hanging onto her drawing. Pretending to be an art critic.\n\n\"Hey, you're good, you know that?\"\n\n\"Yes, I know.\"\n\n\"You want to do me, I can arrange the time.\" He grinned around at his buddies, one of whom said, \"Draw you.\"\n\n\"Yeah, man. That's what I said.\" He feigned confusion. \"That ain't what I said?\" He looked at Echo and shrugged magnanimously. \"So first you draw me, then you can do me.\"\n\nEcho said, \"Listen, you fucking little idiot, I want my drawing now, or you'll be in shit up to your bull ring.\"\n\nThe express screeched to a stop behind her. A local was also approaching on the inside track. The boy made a show of being astonished by her threat. As if he were trembling in fright, his hands jerked and the drawing tore nearly in half.\n\n\"Oh, sorry, man. Now I guess you need to get yourself another naked guy.\" He finished ripping her drawing.\n\nEcho, losing it, dropped her computer case and hooked a left at his jaw. She was quick on her feet; it just missed. The cholo danced away with the halves of the drawing in each hand, and bumped into a woman walking the yellow platform line of the local track as if she were a ballet dancer. The headlight of the train behind her winked on the slim blade of a knife in her right hand.\n\nWith her left hand she took hold of the boy by his bunchy testicles and lifted him up on his toes until they were at eye level.\n\nThe Woman in Black stared at him, and the point of the knife was between two of his exposed ribs. Echo's throat dried up. She had no doubt the woman would cut him if he didn't behave. The boy's mouth was open, but he could have screamed without being heard as the train thundered by a couple of feet away from them.\n\nThe woman cast a long look at Echo, then nodded curtly toward the express.\n\nThe kid in the Knicks jersey picked up Echo's computer and shoved it at her as if he suspected that she too might have a blade. The doors of the local opened and there was a surge of humanity across the platform to the parked express. Echo let herself be carried along with it, looking back once as she boarded. Another glimpse of the Woman in Black, still holding the cholo helpless, getting a few looks but no interference. Echo's pulses throbbed. The woman was like a walking superstition, with a temperament as dark and lurking as paranoia.\n\nWho was she? And why, Echo wondered as the doors closed, does she keep showing up in my life?\n\nShe rode standing up to 86th in the jam of commuters, her face expressionless, presenting a calm front but inside just a blur, like a traumatized bird trying to escape through a sealed window.\n\nEcho didn't say anything to Peter about the Woman in Black until Friday evening, when they were slogging along in oppressive traffic on the 495 eastbound, on their way to Mattituck and the cozy weekend they'd planned at the summer house of Frank Ringer's uncle.\n\n\"No idea who she is?\" Peter said. \"You're sure you don't know her from somewhere?\"\n\n\"Listen, she's the kind, see her once, you never forget her. I'm talking spooky.\"\n\n\"She pulled a knife in the subway? Switchblade?\"\n\n\"Maybe. I don't know much about knives. It was the look in her eyes, man. That cholo must've went in his pants.\" Echo smiled slightly, then her expression turned glum. \"So, the first couple times, okay. Coincidence. A third time in the same week, uh-uh, I don't buy it. She must've been following me around.\" Echo shrugged again, and her shoulders stayed tight. \"I didn't sleep so good last night, Pete.\"\n\n\"You ever see her again, make it your business to call me right away.\"\n\n\"I wonder if maybe I should\u2014\"\n\n\"No. Stay away from her. Don't try to talk to her.\"\n\n\"You're thinking she could be some sort of psycho?\"\n\n\"That's New York. Ten people go by in the street, one or two out of the ten, something's gonna be seriously wrong with them mentally.\"\n\n\"Great. Now I'm scared.\"\n\nPete put an arm around her.\n\n\"You just let me handle this. Whatever it is.\"\n\n\"Engine's overheating.\" Echo observed.\n\n\"Yeah. Fucking traffic. Weekend, it'll be like this until ten o'lock. Might as well get off, get something to eat.\"\n\nThe cottage that had been lent to them for the weekend wasn't impressive in the headlights of Peter's car; it looked as if Frank Ringer's uncle had built it on weekends using materials taken from various construction or demolition sites. Mismatched windows, missing clapboards, a stone chimney on one side that obviously was out of plumb; the place had all the eye appeal of a bad scab.\n\n\"Probably charming inside,\" Echo said, determined to be upbeat about a slow start to their intimate weekend.\n\nInside the small rooms smelled of mildew from a leaky roof. There were curbsides in Manhattan that were better furnished on trash pickup days.\n\n\"Guess it's kind of like men only out here,\" Pete said, not concealing his disbelief. \"I'll open a couple of windows.\"\n\n\"Do you think we could clean it up some?\" Echo said.\n\nPeter took another look around.\n\n\"More like burn it down and start over.\"\n\n\"It's such a beautiful little cove.\"\n\nThere was so much dismay in her face it started him laughing. He put an arm around her, guided her outside, and locked the door behind them.\n\n\"Live and learn,\" he said.\n\n\"Your house or mine?\" Echo said.\n\n\"Bayside's closest.\"\n\nThe O'Neill house in Bayside didn't work out, either; overrun with relatives. At a few minutes past ten Echo unlocked the door of the Yorktown apartment where she lived with her mother and Aunt Julia, from her late father's side of the family. She looked at Peter, sighed, kissed him.\n\nRosemay and Julia were playing Scrabble at the dining room table when Echo walked in with Peter. She had left her weekend luggage in the hall by her bedroom door.\n\n\"This is a grand surprise,\" Rosemay said. \"Echo, I thought you were stayin' over in Queens.\"\n\nEcho cleared her throat and shrugged, letting Peter handle this one.\n\nPete said, \"My uncle Dennis, from Philly? Blew into town with his six kids. Our house looks like a day camp. They been redoin' the walls with grape jelly.\" He bent over Rosemay, putting his arms around her. \"How're you, Rosemay?\"\n\nRosemay was wearing lounging pajamas and a green eyeshade. There were three support pillows in the chair she occupied, and one under her slippered feet.\n\n\"A little fatigued, I must say.\"\n\nJulia was a roly-poly woman who wore thick eyeglasses. \"Spent most of the day writing,\" she said of Rosemay. \"Talk to your ma about eating, Echo.\"\n\n\"Eat, mom. You promised.\"\n\n\"I had my soft-boiled egg with some tea. It was, oh, about five o'lock, wasn't it, Julia?\"\n\n\"Soft-boiled eggs. Wants nought but her bit of egg.\"\n\n\"They go down easy,\" Rosemay said, massaging her throat. Words didn't come easily, at least at this hour of the night. But for Rosemay sleep was elusive as well.\n\n\"All that cholesterol,\" Peter chided.\n\nRosemay smiled. \"Nothing to worry about. I already have one fatal disease.\"\n\n\"None of that,\" Peter said sternly.\n\n\"Go on, Petey. You say what is. At least my mind will be the last of me to go. Pull up some chairs, we'll all play.\"\n\nThe doorbell rang. Echo went to answer it.\n\nPeter was arranging chairs around the table when he heard Echo unlock the door, then cry out.\n\n\"Peter!\"\n\n\"Who is it, Echo?\" Rosemay called, as Peter backtracked through the front room to the foyer. The door to the hall stood half open. Echo had backed away from the door and from the Woman in Black who was standing outside.\n\nPeter took Echo by an elbow and flattened her against the wall behind the door, saying to the Woman in Black, \"Excuse me, can I talk to you? I'm the police.\"\n\nThe Woman in Black looked at him for a couple of seconds, then reached into her purse as Peter filled the doorspace.\n\n\"Don't do that!\"\n\nThe woman shook her head. She pulled something from her purse but Peter had a grip on her gloved wrist before her hand fully cleared. She raised her eyes to him but didn't resist. There was a white business card between her thumb and forefinger.\n\nStill holding onto her wrist, Peter took the card from her with his left hand. Glanced at it. He felt Echo at his back, looking at the woman over his shoulder. The woman looked at Echo, looked back at Peter.\n\n\"What's going on?\" Echo said, as Rosemay called again.\n\nPeter let go of the Woman in Black, turned and handed Echo the card.\n\n\"Echo! Peter!\"\n\n\"Everything's fine, mom,\" Echo said, studying the writing on the card in the dim foyer light.\n\nPeter said to the Woman in Black, \"Sorry I got a little rough. I heard about that knife you carry, is all.\"\n\nThis time it was Echo who moved Peter aside, opening the door wider.\n\n\"Peter, she can't\u2014\"\n\n\"Talk. I know.\" He didn't take his eyes off the woman in black. \"You've got another card, tells me who you are?\"\n\nShe nodded, glanced at her purse. Peter said, \"Yeah, okay.\" This time the woman produced her calling card, which Echo took from her.\n\n\"Your name's Taja? Am I saying that right?\"\n\nThe woman nodded formally.\n\n\"Taja what?\"\n\nShe shrugged slightly, impatiently; as if it didn't matter.\n\n\"So I guess you know who I am. What did you want to see me about? Would you like to come in?\"\n\n\"Echo\u2014\" Peter objected.\n\nBut the woman shook her head and indicated her purse again. She made an open-palm gesture, hand extended to Echo, slow enough so Peter wouldn't interpret it as hostile.\n\n\"You have something for me?\" Echo said, baffled.\n\nAnother nod from Taja. She looked appraisingly at Peter, then returned to her purse and withdrew a cream-colored envelope the size of a wedding announcement.\n\nPeter said, \"Echo tells me you've been following her places. What's that about?\"\n\nTaja looked at the envelope in her hand as if it would answer all of their questions. Peter continued to size the woman up. She used cosmetics in almost theatrical quantities; that overload plus Botox, maybe, was enough to obscure any hint of age. She wore a flat-crowned hat and a long skirt with large fabric-covered buttons down one side. A scarlet puff of neckerchief was Taja's only concession to color. That, and the rose flush of her cheeks. Her eyes were almond-shaped, creaturely bold, intelligent. One thing about her, she didn't blink very often, which enhanced a certain robotic effect.\n\nEcho took the envelope. Her name, handwritten, was on it. She smiled uncertainly at Taja, who simply looked away\u2014something dismissive in her lack of expression, Peter thought.\n\n\"Just a minute. I'd like to ask you\u2014\"\n\nThe Woman in Black paused on her way to the stairs.\n\nEcho said, \"Pete? It's okay. Taja?\"\n\nTaja turned.\n\n\"I wanted to say\u2014thank you. You know, for the subway, the other day?\"\n\nTaja, after a few moments, did something surprisingly out of character, considering her previous demeanor, the rigid formality. She responded to Echo with an emphatic thumbs-up before soundlessly disappearing down the stairs. Peter had the impression she'd enjoyed intimidating the cholo kid. Might have enjoyed herself even more if she'd used the knife on him.\n\nEcho had a hand on his arm, sensing his desire to follow the Woman in Black.\n\n\"Let's see what this is,\" she said, of the envelope in her other hand.\n\n\"She looks Latin to me, what d'you think?\" Peter said to Echo as they returned to the front room. Rosemay and Julia began talking at the same time, wanting to know who was at the door. \"Messenger,\" Peter said to them, and looked out the windows facing the street.\n\nEcho, preoccupied, said, \"You're the detective.\" She looked for a letter opener on Rosemay's writing table.\n\n\"Jesus above,\" Julia said. \"Sounded like a ruckus. I was reachin' for me heart pills.\"\n\nPeter saw the Woman in Black get into a waiting limousine.\n\n\"Travels first class, whoever she is.\" He caught the license plate number as the limo pulled away, jotted it down on the inside of his left wrist with a ballpoint pen.\n\nRosemay and Julia were watching Echo as she slit the envelope open.\n\n\"What is it, dear, an invitation?\"\n\n\"Looks like one.\"\n\n\"Now, who's getting married this time?\" Julia said. \"Seems like you've been to half a dozen weddings already this year.\"\n\n\"No, it's\u2014\" Echo's throat seemed to close up on her. She sat down slowly on one of a pair of matched love seats.\n\n\"Good news or bad?\" Peter said, adjusting the blinds over the window.\n\n\"My... God!\"\n\n\"Echo!\" Rosemay said, mildly alarmed by her expression.\n\n\"This is so... utterly... fantastic!\"\n\nPeter crossed the room and took the invitation from her.\n\n\"But why me?\" Echo said.\n\n\"Part of your job, isn't it? Going to these shows? What's so special about this one?\"\n\n\"Because it's John Leland Ransome. And it's the event of the year. You're invited.\"\n\n\"I see that. 'Guest.' Real personal. I'm overwhelmed. Let's play.\" He took out his cell phone. \"After I run a plate.\"\n\nEcho wasn't paying attention to him. She had taken the invitation back and was staring at it as if she were afraid the ink might disappear.\n\nStefan Konine's reaction was predictable when Echo showed him the invitation. He pouted.\n\n\"Not to disparage your good fortune but, yes, why you? If I wasn't aware of your high moral standards\u2014\"\n\nEcho said serenely, \"Don't say it, Stefan.\"\n\nStefan began to look over a contract that one of his assistants had silently slipped onto his desk. He picked up his pen.\n\n\"I confess that it took me literally weeks to finagle my way onto the guest list. And I'm not just anyone's old hand job in this town.\"\n\n\"I thought you didn't like Ransome. Something about art on a sailor's\u2014\"\n\nStefan slashed through an entire paragraph on the contract and looked up at Echo.\n\n\"I don't worship the man, but I adore the event. Don't you have work to do?\"\n\n\"I'm not strong on the pre-Raphaelites, but I called around. There's a definite lack of viability in today's market.\"\n\n\"Call it what it is, an Arctic chill. Tell the appraiser for the Chandler estate that he might do better on one of those auction junkie internet sites.\" Stefan performed strong-arm surgery on another page of the contract. \"You will want to appear in something singularly ravishing for the Ransome do. All of us at Gilbard's can only benefit from your reflected glory.\"\n\n\"May I put the gown on my expense account?\"\n\n\"Of course not.\"\n\nEcho winced slightly.\n\n\"But perhaps,\" Stefan said, twiddling his gold pen, \"we can do something about that raise you've been whining about for weeks.\"\n\nFOUR\n\nCyrus Mellichamp's personal quarters took up the fourth floor of his gallery on East 58th Street. They were an example of what wealth and unerring taste could accomplish. So was Cy himself. He not only looked pampered by the best tailors, dieticians, physical therapists, and cosmeticians, he looked as if he truly deserved it.\n\nJohn Ransome's fortune was to the tenth power what Cy Mellichamp had managed to acquire as a kingpin of the New York art world, but on the night of the gala dedicated to himself and his new paintings, which he had no plans to attend, he was casually dressed. Tennis sweater, khakis, loafers. No socks. While the Mellichamp Gallery's guests were drinking Mo\u00ebt and Chandon below, Ransome sipped beer and watched the party on several TV monitors in Cy's study.\n\nThere was no sound, but thanks to the gallery owner's expensive surveillance system, it was possible, if he wanted, to tune in on nearly every conversation on the first two floors of the gallery, swarming with mediaannointed superstars. Name a profession with glitter appeal, there was an icon, a living legend, or a luminary in attendance.\n\nCy Mellichamp had coaxed one of his very close friends, from a list that ran in the high hundreds, to prepare dinner for Ransome and his guests for the evening, both of whom were still unaware they'd been invited.\n\n\"John,\" Cy said, \"Monsieur Rapaou wanted to know if there was a special dish you'd like added to his menu for the evening.\"\n\n\"Why don't we just scrap the menu and have cheeseburgers,\" Ransome said.\n\n\"Oh my God,\" Cy said, after a shocked intake of breath. \"Scrap\u2014? John, Monsieur Rapaou is one of the most honored chefs on four continents.\"\n\n\"Then he ought to be able to make a damn fine cheeseburger.\"\n\n\"Johnnn\u2014\"\n\n\"We're having dinner with a couple of kids. Basically. And I want them to be at ease, not worrying about what fork to use.\"\n\nA dozen of the gallery's guests were being admitted at one time to the room in which the Ransome exhibition was mounted. To avoid damaged egos, the order in which they were being permitted to view the new Ransomes had been chosen impartially by lot. Except for Echo, Peter, and Stefan Konine, arbitrarily assigned to the second group. Ransome, for all of his indolence at his own party, was impatient to get on with his prime objective of the evening.\n\nAll of the new paintings featured the same model: a young black woman with nearly waist-length hair. She was, of course, smashing, with the beguiling quality that differentiates mere looks from classic beauty.\n\nTwo canvases, unframed, were wall-mounted. The other three, on easels, were only about three feet square. A hallmark of all Ransome's work were the wildly primeval, ominous or threatening landscapes in which his models existed aloofly.\n\nTwo minutes after they entered the room Peter began to fidget, glancing at Echo, who seemed lost in contemplation.\n\n\"I don't get it.\"\n\nEcho said in a low firm tone, \"Peter.\"\n\n\"What is it, like High Mass, I can't talk?\"\n\n\"Just\u2014keep it down, please.\"\n\n\"Five paintings?\" Pete said, lowering his voice. \"That's what all the glitz is about? The movie stars? Guy that plays James Bond is here, did you notice?\"\n\n\"Ransome only does five paintings at a time. Every three years.\"\n\n\"Slow, huh?\"\n\n\"Painstaking.\" Peter could hear her breathing, a sigh of rapture. \"The way he uses light.\"\n\n\"You've been staring at that one for\u2014\"\n\n\"Go away.\"\n\nPete shrugged and joined Stefan, who was less absorbed.\n\n\"Does Ransome get paid by the square yard?\"\n\n\"The square inch, more likely. It takes seven figures just to buy into the play-off round. And I'm told there are already more than four hundred prospective buyers, the cachet-stricken.\"\n\n\"For five paintings? Echo, just keep painting. Forget about your day job.\"\n\nEcho gave him a dire look for breaking her concentration. Peter grimaced and said to Stefan, \"I think I've seen this model somewhere else. Sports Illustrated. Last year's swimsuit issue.\"\n\n\"Doubtful,\" Stefan said. \"No one knows who Ransome's models are. None of them have appeared at the shows, or been publicized. Nor has the genius himself. He might be in our midst tonight, but I wouldn't recognize him. I've never seen a photo.\"\n\n\"You saying he's shy?\"\n\n\"Or exceptionally shrewd.\"\n\nPeter had been focusing on a nude study of the unknown black girl. Nothing left to the imagination. Raw sensual appeal. He looked around the small gallery, as if his powers of detection might reveal the artist to him. Instead who he saw was Taja, standing in a doorway, looking at him.\n\n\"Echo?\"\n\nShe looked around at Peter with a frown, then saw Taja herself. When the Woman in Black had her attention she beckoned. Echo and Peter looked at each other.\n\n\"Maybe it's another special delivery,\" Peter said.\n\n\"I guess we ought to find out.\"\n\nIn the center of the gallery's atrium a small elevator in a glass shaft rose to Cy Mellichamp's penthouse suite. A good many people who considered themselves important watched Peter and Echo rise to the fourth floor with Taja. Stefan took in some bemused and outright envious speculation.\n\nA super-socialite complained, \"I've spent seventeen million with Cy, and I've never been invited to the penthouse. Who are they?\"\n\n\"Does Ransome have children?\"\n\n\"Who knows?\"\n\nA talk-show host with a sneaky leer and a hard-drive's capacity for gossip said, \"The dark one, my dear, is John Ransome's mistress. He abuses her terribly. So I've been told.\"\n\n\"Or perhaps it's the other way around,\" Stefan said, feeling a flutter of distress in his stomach that had nothing to do with the quantity of hors d'oeuvres he'd put away. Something was up, obviously it involved Echo, and even more obviously it was none of his business. Yet his impression, as he watched Echo step off the elevator and vanish into Cy's sanctum, was of a lovely doe being deftly separated from a herd of deer.\n\nTaja ushered Echo and Peter into Cy Mellichamp's presence and closed the door to the lush sitting room, a gallery in itself that was devoted largely to French Impressionists. A very large room with a high tray ceiling. French doors opened onto a small terrace where there was a candlelit table set for three and two full-dress butlers in attendance.\n\n\"Miss Halloran, Mr. O'Neill! I'm Cyrus Mellichamp. Wonderful that you could be here tonight. I hope you're enjoying yourselves.\"\n\nHe offered his hand to Echo, and a discreet kiss to one cheek, somewhere between businesslike and avuncular, Peter noted. He shook hands with the man and they were eye to eye, Cy with a pleasant smile but no curiosity.\n\n\"We're honored, Mr. Mellichamp,\" Echo said.\n\n\"May I call you Echo?\"\n\n\"Yes, of course.\"\n\n\"What do you think of the new Ransomes, Echo?\"\n\n\"Well, I think they're\u2014magnificent. I've always loved his work.\"\n\n\"He will be very pleased to hear that.\"\n\n\"hy?\" Peter said.\n\nThey both looked at him. Peter had, deliberately, his cop face on. Echo didn't appreciate that.\n\n\"This is a big night for Mr. Ransome. Isn't it? I'm surprised he's not here.\"\n\nCy said smoothly, \"But he is here, Peter.\"\n\nPete spread his hands and smiled inquiringly as Echo's expression soured.\n\n\"It's only that John has never cared to be the center of attention. He wants the focus to be solely on his work. But let John tell you himself. He's wanted very much to meet you both.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Peter said.\n\n\"Peter,\" Echo said grimly.\n\n\"Well, it's a fair question,\" Peter said, looking at Cy Mellichamp, who wore little gold tennis racket cuff links. A fair question, but not a lob. Straight down the alley, no time for footwork, spin on the return.\n\nCy blinked and his smile got bigger. \"Of course it is. Would you mind coming with me? Just in the other room there, my study. Something we would like for you to see.\"\n\n\"You and Mr. Ransome,\" Peter said.\n\n\"Why, yes.\"\n\nHe offered Echo his arm. She gave Peter a swift dreadful look as she turned her back on him. Peter simmered for a couple of moments, took a breath and followed them.\n\nThe study was nearly dark. Peter was immediately interested in the array of security monitors, including three affording different angles on the small gallery where the newest Ransome paintings were on display. Where he had been with Echo a few minutes ago. The idea that they'd been watched from this room, maybe by Ransome himself, caused Peter to chew his lower lip. No reason Cy Mellichamp shouldn't have the best possible surveillance equipment to protect millions of dollars' worth of property. But so far none of this\u2014Taja following Echo around town, the special invitations to Ransome's showing\u2014added up, and Peter was more than ready to cut to the chase.\n\nThere was a draped, spotlighted easel to one side of Mellichamp's desk. The dealer walked Echo to it, smiling, and invited her to remove the drape.\n\n\"It's a work in progress, of course. John would be the first to say it doesn't do his subject justice.\"\n\nEcho hesitated, then carefully uncovered the canvas, which revealed an incomplete study of\u2014Echo Halloran.\n\nJesus, Peter thought, growing tense for no good reason. Even though what there was of her on the canvas looked great.\n\n\"Peter! Look at this!\"\n\n\"I'm looking,\" Pete said, then turned, aware that someone had come into the room behind them.\n\n\"No, it doesn't do you justice,\" John Ransome said. \"It's a beginning, that's all.\" He put out a hand to Peter. \"Congratulations on your promotion to detective.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" Pete said, testing Ransome's grip with no change of expression.\n\nRansome smiled slightly. \"I understand your paternal grandfather was the third most-decorated officer in the history of the New York City police force.\"\n\n\"That's right.\"\n\nCy Mellichamp had blue-ribbon charm and social graces and the inward chilliness of a shark cruising behind the glass of an aquarium. John Ransome looked at Peter as if every detail of his face were important to recall at some later time. He held his grip longer than most men, but not too long. He was an inch taller than Peter, with a thick head of razor-cut hair silver over the ears, a square jawline softening with age, deep folds at the corners of a sensual mouth. He talked through his nose, yet the effect was sonorous, softly pleasing, as if his nose were lined with velvet. His dark eyes didn't veer from Peter's mildly contentious gaze. They were the eyes of a man who had fought battles, won only some of them. They wanted to tell you more than his heart could let go of. And that, Peter divined in a few moments of hand-to-hand contact with the man, was the major source of his appeal.\n\nHaving made Peter feel a little more at home Ransome turned his attention again to Echo.\n\n\"I had only some photographs,\" he said of the impressionistic portrait. \"So much was missing. Until now. And now that I'm finally meeting you\u2014I see how very much I've missed.\"\n\nBy candlelight and starlight they had cheeseburgers and fries on the terrace. And they were damn good cheeseburgers. So was the beer. Peter concentrated on the beer because he didn't like eating when something was eating him. Probably Echo's star-struck expression. As for John Leland Ransome\u2014there was just something about aging yuppies (never mind the aura of the famous and reclusive artist) who didn't wear socks with their loafers that went against Peter's Irish grain.\n\nOtherwise maybe it wasn't so hard to like the guy. Until it became obvious that Ransome or someone else had done a thorough job of prying into Echo's life and family relations. Now hold on, just a damn minute.\n\n\"Your name is given as Mary Catherine on your birth and baptismal certificates. Where did 'Echo' come from?\"\n\n\"Oh\u2014well\u2014I was talking a blue streak at eighteen months. Repeated everything I heard. My father would look at me and say, 'Is there a little echo in here?'\"\n\n\"Your father was a Jesuit, I understand.\"\n\n\"Yes. That was his\u2014vocation, until he met my mother.\"\n\n\"Who was teaching medieval history at Fordham?\"\n\n\"Yes, she was.\"\n\n\"Now retired because of her illness. Is she still working on her biography of Bernard of Clairvaux? I'd like to read it sometime. I'm a student of history myself.\"\n\nPeter allowed his beer glass to be filled for a fourth time. Echo gave him a vexed look as if to say, Are you here or are you not here?\n\nRansome said, \"I see the beer is to your liking. It's from an exceptional little brewery in Dortmund that's not widely known outside of Germany.\"\n\nPeter said with an edge of hostility, \"So you have it flown in by the keg, something like that?\"\n\nRansome smiled. \"Corner deli. Three bucks a pop.\"\n\nPeter shifted in his seat. The lace collar of his tux was irritating his neck. \"Mr. Ransome\u2014mind if I ask you something?\"\n\n\"If you'll call me John.\"\n\n\"Okay\u2014John\u2014what I'd like to know is, why all the detective work? I mean, you seem to know a h\u2014a lot about Echo. Almost an invasion of her privacy, seems to me.\"\n\nEcho looked as if she would gladly have kicked him, if her gown hadn't been so long. She smiled a tight apology to Ransome, but Peter had the feeling she was curious too, in spite of the hero worship.\n\nRansome took the accusation seriously, with a hint of contrition in his downcast eyes.\n\n\"I understand how that must appear to you. It's the nature of detective work, of course, to interpret my curiosity about Echo as suspicious or possibly predatory behavior. But if Echo and I are going to spend a year together\u2014\"\n\n\"What?\" Peter said, and Echo almost repeated him before pressing a napkin to her lips and clearing her throat.\n\nRansome nodded his point home with the confidence of those who are born and bred in the winner's circle; someone, Peter thought resentfully, who wouldn't break a sweat if his pants were on fire.\n\n\"\u2014I find it helpful in my work as an artist,\" Ransome continued, \"if there are other areas of compatibility with my subjects. I like good conversation. I've never had a subject who wasn't well read and articulate.\" He smiled graciously at Echo. \"Although I'm afraid that I've tended to monopolize our table talk tonight.\" He shifted his eyes to Peter. \"And Echo is also a painter of promise. I find that attractive as well.\"\n\nEcho said incredulously, \"Excuse me, I fell off at that last turn.\"\n\n\"Did you?\" Ransome said.\n\nBut he kept his gaze on Peter, who had the look of a man being cunningly outplayed in a game without a rule book.\n\nWith the party over, the gallery emptied and cleanup crews at work, John Ransome conducted a personal tour of his latest work while Cy Mellichamp entertained Stefan Konine and a restless Peter, who had spent the better part of the last hour obviously wishing he were somewhere else. With Echo.\n\n\"Who is she?\" Echo asked of Ransome's most recent model. \"Or is that privileged information?\"\n\n\"I'll trust your discretion. Her name is Silkie. Oddly enough, my previous subjects have remained anonymous at their own request. To keep the curious at arm's length. I suppose that during the year of our relationships each of them absorbed some of my own passion for\u2014letting my work speak for itself.\"\n\n\"The year of your relationships? You don't see them any more?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Is that at your request?\"\n\n\"I don't want it to seem to you as if I've had affairs that all turned out badly. That's far from the truth.\"\n\nWith her lack of expression Echo kept a guarded but subtle emotional distance from him.\n\n\"Silkie. The name describes her perfectly. Where is she from?\"\n\n\"South Africa. Taja discovered her, on a train from Durban to Capetown.\"\n\n\"And Taja discovered me? She does get around.\"\n\n\"She's found all of my recent subjects\u2014by 'recent' I mean the last twenty years.\" He smiled a bit painfully, reminded of how quickly the years passed, and how slowly he worked. \"I very much depend on Taja's eye and her intuition. I depend on her loyalty. She was an artist herself, but she won't paint any more. In spite of my efforts to\u2014inspire her.\"\n\n\"Why can't she speak?\"\n\n\"Her tongue was cut out by agents of one of those starkly repressive Cold War governments. She wouldn't reveal the whereabouts of dissident members of her family. She was just thirteen at the time.\"\n\n\"Oh God, that's so awful!\"\n\n\"I'm afraid it's the least of what was done to Taja. But she has always been like a\u2014for want of a better word, talisman for me.\"\n\n\"Where did you meet her?\"\n\n\"She was a sidewalk artist in Budapest, living down an alley with whores and thieves. I first saw her during one of my too-frequent sabbaticals in those times when I wasn't painting well. Nor painting very much at all. It's still difficult for me, nearly all of the time.\"\n\n\"Is that why you want me to pose for\u2014a year?\"\n\n\"I work for a year with my subject. Take another year to fully realize what we've begun together. Then\u2014I suppose I just agonize for several months before finally packing my pictures off to Cy. And finally\u2014comes the inevitable night.\"\n\nHe made a weary, sweeping gesture around the \"Ransome Room,\" then brightened.\n\n\"I let them go. But this is the first occasion when I've had the good fortune of knowing my next subject and collaborator before my last paintings are out of our hands.\"\n\n\"I'm overwhelmed, really. That you would even consider me. I'm sorry that I have to say\u2014it's out of the question. I can't do it.\"\n\nEcho glanced past at him, to the doorway where Peter was standing around with the other two men, trying not to appear anxious and irritable.\n\n\"He's a fine young man,\" Ransome said with a smile.\n\n\"It isn't just Peter, I mean, being away from him for so long. That would be hard. But there's my mother.\"\n\n\"I understand. I didn't expect to convince you at our first meeting. It's getting late, and I know you must be tired.\"\n\n\"Am I going to see you again?\" Echo said.\n\n\"That's for you to decide. But I need you, Mary Catherine. I hope to have another chance to convince you of that.\"\n\nNeither Echo nor Peter were the kind to be reticent about getting into it when there was an imagined slight or a disagreement to be settled. They were city kids who had grown up scrappy and contentious if the occasion called for it.\n\nBefore Echo had slipped out of the new shoes that had hurt her feet for most of the night she was in Peter's face. They were driving up Park. Too fast, in her opinion. She told him to slow down.\n\n\"Or put your flasher on. You just barely missed that cabbie.\"\n\n\"I can get suspended for that,\" Peter said.\n\n\"Why are you so angry?\"\n\n\"Said I was angry?\"\n\n\"It was a wonderful evening, and now you're spoiling it for me. Slow down.\"\n\n\"When a guy comes on to you like that Ransome\u2014\"\n\n\"Oh, please. Comes on to me? That is so\u2014so\u2014I don't want to say it.\"\n\n\"Go ahead. We say what is, remember?\"\n\n\"Im-mature.\"\n\n\"Thank you. I'm immature because the guy is stuffing me in the face and I'm supposed to\u2014\"\n\n\"Peter, I never said I was going to do it! I've got my job to think about. My mom.\"\n\n\"So why did he say he hoped he'd be hearing from you soon? And you just smiled like, sure. I can hardly wait.\"\n\n\"You don't just blow somebody off who has gone out of his way to\u2014\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Peter. Look. I was paid an incredible compliment tonight, by a painter who I think is\u2014I mean, I can't be flattered? Come on.\"\n\nPeter decided against racing a red light and settled back behind the wheel.\n\n\"You come on. You got something arranged with him?\"\n\n\"For the last time, no.\" Her face was red, and she had chewed most of the gloss off her lower lip. In a softer tone she said, \"You know it's not gonna happen, have some sense. The ball is over. Just let Cinderella enjoy her last moments, okay?\u2014They're honking because the light is green, Petey.\"\n\nSix blocks farther uptown Peter said, \"Okay. I guess I\u2014\"\n\n\"Overreacted, what else is new? Sweetie, I love you.\"\n\n\"How much?\"\n\n\"Infinity.\"\n\n\"Love you too. Oh God. Infinity.\"\n\nRosemay and Julia were asleep when Echo got home. She hung up the gown she'd worn to John Leland Ransome's show in her small closet, pulled on a sleep shirt and went to the bathroom to pee and brush her teeth. She spent an uncharacteristic amount of time studying her face in the mirror. It wasn't vanity; more as if she were doing an emotional self-portrait. She smiled wryly and shrugged and returned to her bedroom.\n\nThere she took down from a couple of shelves of cherished art books a slim oversized volume entitled The Ransome Women. She curled up against a bolster on her studio bed and turned on a reading lamp, spent an absorbed half hour looking over the thirty color plates and pages with areas of detail that illustrated aspects of the artist's technique.\n\nShe nodded off about three, then awoke with a start, the book sliding off her lap to the floor. Echo left it there, glanced at a landscape on her easel that she'd been working on for several weeks, wondering what John Ransome would think of it. Then she turned off the light and lay faceup in the dark, her rosary gripped unsaid in her fist. Thinking what if, what if.\n\nBut such a dramatic change in her life was solely in her imagination, or in a parallel universe. And Cinderella was a fairy tale.\n\nFIVE\n\nPeter O'Neill was working the day watch with his partner Ray Scalla, investigating a child-abuse complaint, when he was abruptly pulled off the job and told to report to the Commissioner's Office at One Police Plaza.\n\nIt was a breezy, unusually cool day in mid-September. Pete's lieutenant couldn't give him a reason for what was officially described as a \"request.\"\n\n\"Downtown, huh?\" Scalla said. \"Lunch with your old man?\"\n\n\"Jesus, don't ask me,\" Pete said, embarrassed and uncomfortable.\n\nThe offices of the Police Commissioner for the City of New York were on the fourteenth floor. Peter walked into reception to find his father also waiting there. Corin O'Neill was wearing his dress uniform, with the two stars of a borough commander. Pete would have been slightly less surprised to see Elvis Presley.\n\n\"What's going on, Pop?\"\n\nCorin O'Neill's smile was just a shade uneasy. \"Beats me. Any problems on the job, Petey?\"\n\n\"I'd've told you first.\"\n\n\"That you would.\"\n\nThe commissioner's executive assistant came out of her office. \"Good morning, Peter. Glad you could make it.\"\n\nAs if he had a choice. Pete made an effort to look calm and slightly unimpressed. Corin said, \"Well, Lucille. Let's find out how the wind's blowin' today.\"\n\n\"I just buzzed him. You can go right in, Commander.\"\n\nBut the commissioner opened his own door, greeting them heartily. His name was Frank Mullane.\n\n\"Well, Corin! Pleasure, as always. How is Kate? You know we've had a lot of concern.\"\n\n\"She's nearly a hundred percent now, and she'll be pleased you were askin'.\"\n\nMullane looked past him at Peter, then gave the young detective a partial embrace: handshake, bicep squeeze. \"When's the last time I saw you, Peter? Rackin' threes for Cardinal Hayes?\"\n\n\"I think so, yes, sir.\"\n\nMullane kept a hand on Peter's arm. \"Come in, come in. So are you likin' the action in the 7-5?\"\n\n\"That's what I wanted, sir.\"\n\nAs soon as they were inside the office, Lucille closing the door behind them, Peter saw John Ransome, wearing a suit and a tie today. It had been more than a month since the artist's show at the Mellichamp Gallery. Echo hadn't said another two words about Ransome; Peter had forgotten about him. Now he had a feeling that a brick was sinking to the pit of his stomach.\n\n\"Peter,\" Mullane said, \"you already know John Ransome.\" Pete's father gave him a quick look. \"John, this is Corin O'Neill, Pete's father, one of the finest men I've had on my watch.\"\n\nThe older men shook hands. Peter just stared at Ransome.\n\n\"John's an artist, I suppose you know,\" Mullane said to Corin. \"My brother owns one of his paintings. And John has been a big supporter of police charities since well before I came to the office. Now, he has a little request, and we're happy to oblige him.\" Mullane turned and winked at Peter. \"Special assignment for you. John will explain.\"\n\n\"I'm sure he will,\" Peter said.\n\nA chartered helicopter flew Peter and John Ransome to the White Plains airport, where a limousine picked them up. They traveled north through Westchester County on Route 22 to Bedford. Estate country. They hadn't talked much on the helicopter, and on the drive through some of the most expensive real estate on the planet Ransome had phone calls to make. He was apologetic. Peter just nodded and looked out the window, feeling that his time was being wasted. He was sure that, eventually, Ransome was going to bring up Echo. He hadn't forgotten about her, and in his own quiet way he was a determined guy.\n\nOnce Ransome was off the phone for good Peter decided to go on the offensive.\n\n\"You live up this way?\"\n\n\"I was raised here,\" Ransome said. \"Bedford Village.\"\n\n\"So that's where we're going, your house?\"\n\n\"No. The house I grew up in is no longer there. I let go of all but a few acres after my parents died.\"\n\n\"Must've been worth a bundle.\"\n\n\"I didn't need the money.\"\n\n\"You were rich already, is that it?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"So\u2014this special assignment the commissioner was talking about? You need for somebody to handle a, what, situation for you? Somebody causing you a problem?\"\n\n\"You're my only problem at the moment, Peter.\"\n\n\"Okay, well, maybe I guessed that. So this is going to be about Echo?\"\n\nRansome smiled disarmingly. \"Do you think I'm a rich guy out to steal your girl, Peter?\"\n\n\"I'm not worried. Echo's not gonna be your\u2014what do you call it, your 'subject?' You know that already.\"\n\n\"I think there is more of a personal dilemma than you're willing to admit. It affects both you and Echo.\"\n\nPeter shrugged, but the back of his neck was heating up.\n\n\"I don't have any personal dilemmas, Mr. Ransome. That's for guys who have too much time and too much money on their hands. You know? So they try to amuse themselves messin' around in other people's lives, who would just as soon be left alone.\"\n\n\"Believe me. I have no intention of causing either of you the slightest\u2014\" He leaned forward and pointed out the window.\n\n\"This may interest you. One of my former subjects lives here.\"\n\nThey were passing an estate enclosed by what seemed to be a quarter mile of low stone walls. Peter glimpsed a manor house in a grove of trees, and a name on a stone gatepost. Van Lier.\n\n\"I understand she's quite happy. But we haven't been in touch since Anne finished sitting for me. That was many years ago.\"\n\n\"Looks to be plenty well-off,\" Peter said.\n\n\"I bought this property for her.\"\n\nPeter looked at him with a skeptical turn to his lips.\n\n\"All of my former subjects have been well provided for\u2014on the condition that they remain anonymous.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Call it a quirk,\" Ransome said, with a smile that mocked Peter's skepticism. \"Us rich guys have all these quirks.\" He turned his attention to the road ahead. \"There used to be a fruit and vegetable stand along this road that had truly wonderul pears and apples at this season. I wonder\u2014yes, there it is.\"\n\nPeter was thirsty and the cider at the stand was well chilled. He walked around while Ransome was choosing apples. Among the afternoon's shoppers was a severely disabled young woman in a wheelchair that looked as if it cost almost as much as a sports car.\n\nWhen Ransome returned to the limo he asked Peter, \"Do you like it up here?\"\n\n\"Fresh air's giving me a headache. Something is.\" He finished his cider. \"How many have there been, Mr. Ransome? Your 'subjects,' I mean.\"\n\n\"Echo will be the eighth. If I'm able to persuade\u2014\"\n\n\"No if. You're wasting your time.\" Peter looked at the helpless young woman in the wheelchair as she was being power-lifted into a van.\n\n\"ALS is a devastating disease, Peter. How long before Echo's mother can no longer care for herself?\"\n\n\"She's probably got two or three years.\"\n\n\"And after that?\"\n\n\"No telling. She could live to be eighty. If you want to call it living.\"\n\n\"A terrible burden for Echo to have to bear. Let's be frank.\"\n\nPeter stared at him, crushing his cup.\n\n\"Financially, neither of you will be able to handle the demands of Rosemay's illness. Not and have any sort of life for yourselves. But I can remove that burden.\"\n\nPeter put the crushed paper cup in a trash can from twenty feet away, turning his back on Ransome.\n\n\"Did you fuck all of them?\"\n\n\"You know I have no intention of answering a question like that, Peter. I will say this: there can never be any conflict, any\u2014hidden tension between my subjects and myself that will adversely affect my work. The work is all that really matters.\"\n\nPeter looked around at him as blandly as he could manage, but the sun was in his eyes and they smarted.\n\n\"Here's what matters to us. Echo and me are going to be married. We know there're problems. We've got it covered. We don't need your help. Was there anything else?\"\n\n\"I'm happy that we've had this time to become acquainted. Would you mind one more stop before we head back to the city?\"\n\n\"Take your time. I'm on the clock, Pop said. So far it's easy money.\"\n\nAt the end of a winding uphill gravel drive bordered by stacked rock walls that obviously had been there for a century or longer, the limousine came to a pretty Cotswold-style stone cottage with slate roofs that overlooked a lake and a wildfowl sanctuary.\n\nThey parked on a cobblestone turnaround and got out. A caterer's van and a blue Land Rover stood near a separate garage.\n\n\"That's Connecticut a mile or so across the lake. In another month the view turns\u2014well, as spectacular as a New England fall can be. In winter, of course, the lake is perfect for skating. Do you skate, Peter?\"\n\n\"Street hockey,\" Peter said, taking a deep breath as he looked around. The sun was setting west of a small orchard behind the cottage; there was a good breeze across the hilltop. \"So this is where you grew up?\"\n\n\"No. The caretaker lived here. This cottage and about ten acres of woods and orchard are all that's left of the five hundred acres my family owned. All of it is now deeded public land. No one can build another house within three-quarters of a mile.\"\n\n\"Got it all to yourself? Well, this is definitely where I'd work if I were you. Plenty of peace and quiet.\"\n\n\"When I was much younger than you, just beginning to paint, the woods in all their form and color were like an appetite. Paraphrasing Wordsworth, a different kind of painter\u2014poetry being the exotic pigment of language.\" He looked slowly around, eyes brimming with memory. \"Almost six years since I was up here. Now I spend most of my time in Maine. But I recently had the cottage redecorated, and added an infinity pool on the lake side. Do you like it, Peter?\"\n\n\"I'm impressed.\"\n\n\"Why don't you have a look around inside?\"\n\n\"Looks like you've got company. Anyway, what's the point?\"\n\n\"The point is, the cottage is yours, Peter. A wedding present for you and Echo.\"\n\nPeter had hit a trifecta two years ago at Aqueduct, which rewarded him with twenty-six hundred dollars. He'd been thrilled by the windfall. Now he was stunned. When his heartbeat was more or less under control he managed to say, \"Wait a minute. You... can't do this.\"\n\n\"It's done, Peter. Echo is in the garden, I believe. Why don't you join her? I'll be along in a few minutes.\"\n\n\"Omigod, Peter, do you believe it?\"\n\nShe was on the walk that separated garden and swimming pool, the breeze tugging her hair across her eyes. There were a lot of roses in the garden, he noticed. He felt, in spite of the joy he saw in Echo's face, a thorn in his heart. And it was a crushing effort for him just to breathe.\n\n\"Jesus, Echo-what've you done?\"\n\n\"Peter\u2014\"\n\nHe walked through the garden toward her. Echo sat on a teakwood bench, hands folded in her lap, her pleasure dimmed to a defensive smile because she knew what was coming. He could almost see her stubborn streak surfacing, like a shark's fin in bloodied waters. Peter made an effort to keep his tone reasonable.\n\n\"Wedding present? That's china and toasters and things. How do we rate something like this? Nobody in his right mind would give away\u2014\"\n\n\"I haven't done anything,\" Echo said. \"And it isn't ours. Not yet.\"\n\n\"I'm usually in my right mind,\" John Ransome said pleasantly. Peter stopped, halfway between Echo and Ransome, who was in the doorway to the garden, the setting sun making of his face a study in sanguinity. He held a large thick envelope in one hand. \"Escrow to the cottage and grounds will close in one year, when Mary Catherine has completed her obligation to me.\" He smiled. \"I don't expect an invitation to the wedding. But I wish you both a lifetime of happiness. I'll leave this inside for you to read.\" Nobody said anything for a few moments. They heard a helicopter. Ransome glanced up. \"My ride is here,\" he said. \"Make yourselves at home for as long as you like, and enjoy the dinner I've had prepared for you. My driver will take you back to the city when you're ready to go.\"\n\nThe night turned unseasonably chilly for mid-September, temperature dropping into the low fifties by nine o'clock. One of the caterers built a fire on the hearth in the garden room while Echo and Peter were served after-dinner brandies. They sipped and read the contract John Ransome had left for Echo to sign, Peter passing pages to her as he finished reading.\n\nA caterer looked in on them to say, \"We'll be leaving in a few minutes, when we've finished cleaning up the kitchen.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Echo said. Peter didn't look up or say a word until he'd read the last page of the contract. Wind rattled one of the stained-glass casement windows in the garden room. Peter poured more brandy for himself, half a snifter's worth, as if it were cherry Coke. He drank all of it, got up and paced while Echo read by firelight, pushing her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose with a forefinger when they slipped.\n\nWhen she had put the twelve pages in order, Peter fell back into the upholstered chair opposite Echo. They looked at each other. The fire crackled and sparked.\n\n\"I can't go up there to see you? You can't come home, unless it's an emergency? He doesn't want to paint you, he wants to own you!\"\n\nThey heard the caterer's van drive away. The limo chauffeur had enjoyed his meal in a small apartment above the garage.\n\n\"I understand his reasons,\" Echo said. \"He doesn't want me to be distracted.\"\n\n\"Is that what I am? A distraction?\"\n\n\"Peter, you don't have a creative mind, so I really don't expect you to get it.\" Echo frowned; she knew when she sounded condescending. \"It's only for a year. I can do this. Then we're set.\" She looked around the garden room, a possessive light in her eyes. \"My Lord, this place, I've never even dreamed of\u2014I want Mom to see it! Then, if she approves\u2014\"\n\n\"What about my approval?\" Peter said with a glower, drinking again.\n\nEcho got up and stretched. She shuddered. In spite of the fire it was a little chilly in the room. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts with blurred yearning.\n\n\"I want that too.\"\n\n\"And you want this house.\"\n\n\"Are you going to sulk the rest of the evening?\"\n\n\"Who's sulking?\"\n\nShe took the glass from his hand, sat down in his lap and cradled her head on a wide shoulder, closing her eyes.\n\n\"With real estate in the sky, best we could hope for is a small house in, you know, Yonkers or Port Chester. This is Bedford.\"\n\nPeter cupped the back of her head with his hand.\n\n\"He's got you wanting, instead of thinking. He's damn good at it. And that's how he gets what he wants.\"\n\nEcho slipped a hand over his heart. \"So angry.\" She trembled. \"I'm cold, Peter. Warm me up.\"\n\n\"Isn't what we've always planned good enough any more?\"\n\n\"Oh, Peter. I love you and I'm going to marry you, and nothing will ever change that.\"\n\n\"Maybe we should get started home.\"\n\n\"But what if this is home, Peter? Our home.\" She slid off his lap, tugged nonchalantly at him with one hand. \"C'mon. You haven't seen everything yet.\"\n\n\"What did I miss?\" he said reluctantly.\n\n\"Bedroom. And there's a fireplace too.\"\n\nShe dealt soothingly with his resistance, his fears that he wasn't equal to the emotional cost that remained to be exacted for their prize. He wasn't steady on his feet. The brandy he had drunk was hitting him hard.\n\n\"Just think about it,\" Echo said, leading him. \"How it could be. Imagine that a year has gone by\u2014so fast\u2014,\" Echo kissed him and opened the bedroom door. Inside there was a gas log fire on a corner hearth. \"And here we are.\" She framed his his face lovingly with her hands. \"What do you want to do now?\" she said, looking solemnly into his eyes.\n\nPeter swallowed the words he couldn't speak, glancing at the four-poster bed that dominated the room.\n\n\"I know what I want you to do,\" she said.\n\n\"Echo\u2014\"\n\nShe tugged him into the room and closed the door with her foot.\n\n\"It's all right,\" she said as he wavered. \"Such a perfect place to spend our first night together. I want you to appreciate just how much I love you.\"\n\nShe left him and went to a corner of the room by the hearth where she undressed quickly, a quick-change artist, down to the skin, slipping then beneath covers, to his fuming eyes a comely shadow.\n\n\"Peter?\"\n\nHe touched his belt buckle, dropped his hands. He felt at the point of tears; ardor and longing were compromised by too much drink. His heartbeat was fueled by inchoate anger.\n\n\"Peter? What's wrong?\"\n\nHe took a step toward her, stumbled, fell against a chair with a lyre back. Heavy, but he lifted it easily and slammed it against the wall. His unexpected rage had her cowering, his insulted hubris a raw wound she was too inexperienced to deal with. She hugged herself in shock and pain.\n\nPeter opened the bedroom door.\n\n\"I'll wait in the fuckin' limo. You\u2014you stay here if you want! Stay all night. Do whatever the hell you think you've got to do to make yourself happy, and just never mind what it'll do to us!\"\n\nSIX\n\nThe first day of fall, and it was a good day for riding in convertibles: unclouded blue sky, temperatures on the East Coast in the sixties. The car John Ransome drove uptown and parked opposite Echo's building was a Mercedes two-seater. Not a lot of room for luggage, but she'd packed frugally, only the clothes she would need for wintering on a small island off the coast of Maine. And her paintbox.\n\nHe didn't get out of the car right away; cell phone call. Echo lingered an extra few moments at her bedroom windows hoping to see Peter's car. They'd talked briefly at about one A.M., and he'd sounded okay, almost casual about her upcoming forced absence from his life. Holidays included. He was trying a little too hard not to show a lack of faith in her. Neither of them mentioned John Ransome. As if he didn't exist, and she was leaving to study painting in Paris for a year.\n\nEcho picked up her duffels from the bed and carried them out to the front hall. She left the door ajar and went into the front room where Julia was reading to Rosemay from the National Enquirer. Julia was a devotee of celebrity gossip.\n\nCommenting on an actress who had been photographed trying to slip out of a California clinic after a makeover, Julia said, \"Sure and she's at an age where she needs to give up plastic surgery and place her bets with a good taxidermist.\"\n\nRosemay smiled, her eyes on her daughter. Rosemay's lips trembled perceptibly; her skin was china-white, mimicking the tone of the bones within. Echo felt a strong pulse of fear; how frail her mother had become in just three months.\n\n\"Mom, I'm leaving my cell phone with you. It doesn't work on the island, John says. But there's a dish for Internet, no problem with e-mail.\"\n\n\"That's a blessing.\"\n\n\"Peter comin' to see you off?\" Julia asked.\n\nEcho glanced at her watch. \"He wasn't sure. They were working a triple homicide last night.\"\n\n\"Do we have time for tea?\" Rosemay asked, turning slowly away from her computer and looking up at Echo through her green eyeshade.\n\n\"John's here already, mom.\"\n\nThen Echo, to her surprise and chagrin, just lost it, letting loose a flood of tears, sinking to her knees beside her mother, laying her head in Rosemay's lap as she had when she was a child. Rosemay stroked her with an unsteady hand, smiling.\n\nBehind them John Ransome appeared in the hallway. Rosemay saw his reflection on a window pane. She turned her head slowly to acknowledge him. Julia, oblivious, was turning the pages of her gossip weekly.\n\nThe expression in Rosemay's eyes was more of a challenge than a welcome to Ransome. Her hands came together protectively over Echo. Then she prayerfully bowed her head.\n\nPeter double-parked in the street and was running up the stairs of Echo's building when he met Julia coming down with her Save the Trees shopping bag.\n\n\"They're a half hour gone, Peter. I was just on my way to do the marketing.\"\n\nPeter shook his head angrily. \"I only got off a half hour ago! Why couldn't she wait for me, what was the big rush?\"\n\n\"Would you mind sittin' with Rosemay while I'm out? Because it's goin' down hard for her, Peter.\"\n\nHe found Rosemay in the kitchen, a mug of cold tea between her hands. He put the kettle on again, fetched a mug for himself and sat down wearily with Rosemay. He took one of her hands in his.\n\n\"A year. A year until she's home again. Peter, I only let her do this because I was afraid\u2014\"\n\n\"It's okay. I'll be comin' around myself, two, three times a week, see how you are.\"\n\n\"\u2014not afraid for myself,\" Rosemay said, finishing her thought. \"Afraid of what my illness could do to you and Echo.\"\n\nThey looked at each other wordlessly until the kettle on the stove began whistling.\n\n\"Listen, we're gonna get through this,\" Peter said, grim around the mouth.\n\nRosemay's head drooped slowly, as if she hadn't the strength to hold it up any longer.\n\n\"He came, and took her away. Like the old days of lordship, you see. A privilege of those who ruled.\"\n\nEcho didn't see much of Kincairn Island that night when they arrived. The seven-mile ferry trip left her so sick and sore from heaving she couldn't fully straighten up once they docked at the fishermen's quay. There were few lights in the clutter of a town occupying a small cove. A steady wind stung her ears on the short ride cross island by Land Rover to the house facing two thousand miles of open ocean.\n\nA sleeping pill knocked her out for eight hours.\n\nAt first light the cry of gulls and waves booming on the rocks a hundred feet below her bedroom windows woke her up. She had a hot shower in the recently updated bathroom. Some eyedrops got the red out. By then she thought she could handle a cup of black coffee. Outside her room she found a flight of stairs to the first-floor rear of the house. Kitchen noises below. John Ransome was an early riser; she heard him talking to someone.\n\nThe kitchen also had gone through a recent renovation. But the architect hadn't disturbed quaint and mostly charming old features: a hearth for baking in one corner, hand-hewn oak beams overhead.\n\n\"Good morning,\" John Ransome said. \"Looks as if you got your color back.\"\n\n\"I think I owe you an apology,\" Echo mumbled.\n\n\"For getting sick on the ferry? Everybody does until they get used to it. The fumes from that old diesel banger are partly to blame. How about breakfast? Ciera just baked a batch of her cinnamon scones.\"\n\n\"Coffeecoffeecoffee,\" Echo pleaded. Ciera was a woman in her sixties, olive-skinned, with tragic dark eyes. She brought the coffeepot to the table.\n\n\"Good morning,\" Echo said to her. \"I'm Echo.\"\n\nThe woman cocked her head as if she hadn't heard correctly.\n\n\"It's just a\u2014a nickname. I was baptized Mary Catherine.\"\n\n\"I like Mary Catherine,\" Ransome said. He was smiling. \"So why don't we call you by your baptismal name while you're here.\"\n\n\"Okay,\" Echo said, with a glance at him. It wasn't a big thing; nicknames were childish anyway. But she felt a slight psychic disturbance. As if, in banishing \"Echo,\" he had begun to invent the person whom he really wanted to paint, and to live within a relationship that he firmly controlled.\n\nFoolish, Echo thought. I know who I am.\n\nThe rocky path to the Kincairn lighthouse, where Ransome had his studio, took them three hundred yards through scruffy stunted hemlock and blueberry barrens, across lichen-gilded rock, thin earth, and frost-heaves. At intervals the path wended close to the high-tide line. Too close for Echo's peace of mind, although she tried not to appear nervous. Kincairn Island, about eight and a half crooked miles by three miles wide with a high, forested spine, was only a granitic pebble confronting a mighty ocean, blue on this October morning beneath a lightly cobwebbed sky.\n\n\"The light is fantastic,\" she said to Ransome.\n\n\"That's why I'm here, in preference to Cascais or Corfu for instance. Clear winter mornings are the best. The town is on the lee side of the island facing Penobscot. There's a Catholic church, by the way, that the diocese will probably close soon, or Unitarian for those who prefer Religion Lite.\"\n\n\"Who else lives here?\" Echo asked, blinking salt spume from her eyelashes. The tide was in, wind from the southeast.\n\n\"About a hundred forty permanent residents, average age fifty-five. The economy is lobsters. Period. At the turn of the century Kincairn was a lively summer community, but most of the old saltbox cottages are gone; the rest belong to locals.\"\n\n\"And you own the island?\"\n\n\"The original deed was recorded in 1794. You doing okay, Mary Catherine?\"\n\nThe ledge they were crossing was only about fifty feet above the breakers and a snaggle of rocks close to shore.\n\n\"I get a little nervous... this close.\"\n\n\"Don't you swim?\"\n\n\"Only in pools. The ocean\u2014I nearly drowned on a beach in New Jersey. I was five. The waves that morning were nothing, a couple of feet high. I had my back to the water, playing with my pail and shovel. All of a sudden there was a huge wave, out of nowhere, that caught everybody by surprise.\"\n\n\"Rogue wave. We get them too. My parents were sailing off the light, just beyond that nav buoy out there, when a big one capsized their boat. They never had a chance.\"\n\n\"Good Lord. When was this?\"\n\n\"Twenty-eight years ago.\" The path took a turn uphill, and the lighthouse loomed in front of them. \"I'm a strong swimmer. Very cold water doesn't seem to get to me as quickly as other people. When I was nineteen\u2014and heavily under the influence of Lord Byron\u2014I swam the Hellespont. So I've often wondered\u2014\" He paused and looked out to sea. \"If I had been with my mother and father that day, could I have saved them?\"\n\n\"You must miss them very much.\"\n\n\"No. I don't.\"\n\nAfter a few moments he looked around at her, as if her gaze had made him uncomfortable.\n\n\"Is that a terrible thing to say?\"\n\n\"I guess I\u2014I don't understand it. Did you love your parents?\"\n\n\"No. Is that unusual?\"\n\n\"I don't think so. Were they abusive?\"\n\n\"Physically? No. They just left me alone most of the time, as if I didn't exist. I don't know if there's a name for that kind of pain.\"\n\nHis smile, a little dreary, suggested that they leave the topic alone. They walked on to the lighthouse, brilliantly white on the highest point of the headland. Ransome had remodeled it, to considerable outrage from purists, he'd said, installing a modern, airport-style beacon atop what was now his studio.\n\n\"I saw what it cost you,\" Ransome said, \"to leave your mother\u2014your life. I'd like to think that it wasn't only for the money.\" \"Least of all. I'm a painter. I came to learn from you.\"\n\nHe nodded, gratified, and touched her shoulder.\n\n\"Well. Shall we have a look at where we'll both be working, Mary Catherine?\"\n\nPeter didn't waste a lot of time taking on a load at the reception following his sister Siobhan's wedding to the software salesman from Valley Stream. Too much drinking gave him the mopes, followed by a tendency to take almost anything said to him the wrong way.\n\n\"What've you heard from Echo?\" a first cousin named Fitz said to him.\n\nPeter looked at Fitz and had another swallow of his Irish in lieu of making conversation. Fitz glanced at Peter's cousin Rob Flaherty, who said, \"Six tickets to the Rangers tonight, Petey. Good seats.\"\n\nFitz said, \"That's two for Rob and his girl, two for me and Colleen, and I was thinkin'\u2014you remember Mary Mahan, don't you?\"\n\nPeter said ungraciously, \"I don't feel like goin' to the Rangers, and you don't need to be fixin' me up, Fitz.\" His bow tie was hanging limp and there was fire on his forehead and cheekbones. A drop of sweat fell unnoticed from his chin into his glass. He raised the glass again.\n\nRob Flaherty said with a grin, \"You remind me of a lovesick camel, Petey. What you're needin' is a mercy hump.\"\n\nPeter grimaced hostilely. \"What I need is another drink.\"\n\n\"Mary's had a thing for you, how long?\"\n\n\"She's my mom's godchild, asshole.\"\n\nFitz let the belligerence slide. \"Well, you know. It don't exactly count as a mortal sin.\"\n\n\"Leave it, Fitz.\"\n\n\"Sure. Okay. But that is exceptional pussy you're givin' your back to. I can testify.\"\n\nRob said impatiently, \"Ah, let him sit here and get squashed. Echo must've tied a knot in his dick before she left town with her artist friend.\"\n\nPeter was out of his chair with a cocked fist before Fitz could step between them. Rob had reach on Peter and jabbed him just hard enough in the mouth to send him backwards, falling against another of the tables ringing the dance floor, scarcely disturbing a mute couple like goggle-eyed blowfish, drunk on senescence. Pete's mom saw the altercation taking shape and left her partner on the dance floor. She took Peter gently by an elbow, smiled at the other boys, telling them with a motion of her elegantly coiffed head to move along. She dumped ice out of a glass onto a napkin.\n\n\"Dance with your old ma, Peter.\"\n\nSomewhat shamefaced, he allowed himself to be led to the dance floor, holding ice knotted in the napkin to his lower lip.\n\n\"It's twice already this month I see you too much in drink.\"\n\n\"It's a wedding, Ma.\" He put the napkin in a pocket of his tux jacket.\n\n\"I'm thinking it's time you get a grip on yourself,\" Kate said as they danced to a slow beat. \"You don't hear from Echo?\"\n\n\"Sure. Every day.\"\n\n\"Well, then? She's doing okay?\"\n\n\"She says she is.\" Peter drew a couple of troubled breaths. \"But it's e-mail. Not like actually\u2014you know, hearin' her voice. People are all the time sayin' what they can't put into words, you just have to have an ear for it.\"\n\n\"So\u2014maybe there's things she wants you to know, but can't talk about?\"\n\n\"I don't know. We've never been apart more than a couple days since we met. Maybe Echo's found out\u2014it wasn't such a great bargain after all.\" He had a tight grip on his mother's hand.\n\n\"Easy now. If you trust Echo, then you'll hold on. Any man can do that, Petey, for the woman he loves.\"\n\n\"I'll always love her,\" Peter said, his voice tight. He looked into Kate's eyes, a fine simmer of emotion in his own eyes. \"But I don't trust a man nobody knows much about. He's got walls around him you wouldn't believe.\"\n\n\"A man who values his privacy. That kind of money, it's not surprising.\" Kate hesitated. \"You been digging for something? Unofficially, I mean.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"No beefs?\"\n\n\"No beefs. The man's practically invisible where public records are concerned.\"\n\n\"Then let it alone.\"\n\n\"If I could see Echo, just for a little while. I'm half nuts all the time.\"\n\n\"God love you, Peter. Long as you have Sunday off, why don't the two of us go to visit Rosemay, take her for an outing? Been a while since I last saw her.\"\n\n\"I don't think I can, Ma. I, uh\u2014need to go up to Westchester, talk to somebody.\"\n\n\"Police business, is it?\"\n\nPeter shook his head.\n\n\"Her name's Van Lier. She posed for John Ransome once.\"\n\nSEVEN\n\nThe Van Lier residence was a copy\u2014an exact copy, according to a Web site devoted to descriptions of Westchester County's most spectacular homes\u2014of a sixteenth-century English manor house. All Peter saw of the inside was a glimpse of slate floor and dark wainscotting through a partly opened front door.\n\nHe said to the houseman who had answered his ring, \"I'd like to see Mrs. Van Lier.\"\n\nThe houseman was an elderly Negro with age spots on his caramel-colored face like the spots on a leopard.\n\n\"There's no Mrs. Van Lier at this residence.\" Peter handed him his card.\n\n\"Anne Van Lier. I'm with the New York police department.\"\n\nThe houseman looked him over patiently, perhaps hoping if his appraisal took long enough Peter would simply vanish from their doorstep and he could go back to his nap.\n\n\"What is your business about, Detective? Miss Anne don't hardly care to see nobody.\"\n\n\"I'd like to ask her a few questions.\"\n\nThey played the waiting game until the houseman reluctantly took a Motorola Talk-about from a pocket of the apron he wore over his Sunday suit and tried to raise her on a couple of different channels. He frowned.\n\n\"Reckon she's laid hers down and forgot about it,\" he said. \"Well, likely you'll find Miss Anne in the greenhouse this time of the day. But I don't expect she'll talk to you, police or no police.\"\n\n\"Where's the greenhouse?\"\n\n\"Go 'round the back and walk toward the pond, you can't hardly miss it. When you see her, tell Miss Anne I did my best to raise her first, so she don't throw a fit my way.\"\n\nPeter approached the greenhouse through a squall of copper beech leaves on a windy afternoon. The slant roofs of the long greenhouse reflected scudding clouds. Inside a woman he assumed was Anne Van Lier was visible through a mist from some overhead pipes. She wore gloves that covered half of her forearms and a gardening hat with a floppy brim that, along with the mist floating above troughs of exotic plants, obscured most of her face. She was working at a potting bench in the diffused glimmer of sunlight.\n\n\"Miss Van Lier?\"\n\nShe stiffened at the sound of an unfamiliar voice but didn't look around. She was slight-boned in dowdy tan coveralls.\n\n\"Yes? Who is it?\" Her tone said that she didn't care to know. \"You're trespassing.\"\n\n\"My name is Peter O'Neill. New York City police department.\"\n\nPeter walked a few steps down a gravel path toward her. With a quick motion of her head she took him in and said, \"Stay where you are. Police?\"\n\n\"I'd like to show you some identification.\"\n\n\"What is this about?\"\n\nHe held up his shield. \"John Leland Ransome.\"\n\nShe dropped a three-pronged tool from her right hand onto the bench and leaned against it as if suddenly at a loss for breath. Her back was to Peter. A dry scuttle of leaves on the overhead glass cast a kaleidoscope of shadow in the greenhouse. He wiped mist from his forehead and continued toward her.\n\n\"You posed for Ransome.\"\n\n\"What of it? Who told you that?\"\n\n\"He did.\"\n\nShe'd been rigidly still; now Anne Van Lier seemed pleasurably agitated.\n\n\"You know John? You've seen him?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"A couple of months ago.\" Peter had closed the distance between them. Anne darted another look his way, a gloved hand covering her profile as if she were a bashful child; but she no longer appeared to be concerned about him.\n\n\"How is John?\" Her voice was suddenly rich with emotion. \"Did he\u2014mention me?\"\n\n\"That he did,\" Peter said reassuringly, and dared to ask, \"Are you still in love with Ransome?\"\n\nShe shuddered, protecting herself with the glove as if he'd thrown a stone, seeming to cower.\n\n\"What did John say about me? Please.\"\n\nKnowing he'd touched a nerve, Peter said soothingly, \"Told me the year he spent with you was one of the happiest of his life.\"\n\nStill it bothered him when, after a few moments, she began softly to weep. He moved closer to Anne, put a hand on her arm.\n\n\"Don't,\" she pleaded. \"Just go.\"\n\n\"How long since you seen him last, Anne?\"\n\n\"Eighteen years,\" she said despondently.\n\n\"He also said\u2014it was his understanding that you were very happy.\"\n\nAnne Van Lier gasped. Then she began shaking with laughter, as if at the cruelest joke she'd ever heard. She turned suddenly to Peter, knocking his hand away from her, snatching off her gardening hat as she stared up at him.\n\nThe shock she gave him was like the electric jolt from a hard jab to the solar plexus. Because her once-lovely face was a horror.\n\nShe had been brutally, deeply slashed. Attempts had been made to correct the damage, but plastic surgeons could do only so much. Repairing damage to severed nerves was beyond any surgeon's skill. Her mouth drooped on one side. She had lost the sight of her left eye, filled now with a bloom of suffering.\n\n\"Who did this to you? Was it Ransome?\"\n\nJarred by the blurted question, she backed away from Peter.\n\n\"What? John? How dare you think that!\"\n\nGloved fingers prowled the deep disfiguring lines on her face.\n\n\"I never saw my attacker. It happened on a street in the East Village. He could have been a mugger. I didn't resist him, so why, why?\"\n\n\"The police\u2014\"\n\n\"Never found him.\" She stared at Peter, and through him, at the past. \"Or is that what you've come to tell me?\"\n\n\"No. I don't know anything about the case. I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Oh. Well.\" Her fate was dead weight on her mind. \"So many years ago.\"\n\nShe put her gardening hat back on, adjusted the brim, gave Peter a vague look. She was in the past again.\n\n\"You can tell John\u2014I won't always look like this. Just one more operation, they promised. I've had ten so far. Then I'll\u2014finally be ready for John.\" She anticipated the question Peter wasn't about to ask. \"To pose again!\" A vaguely flirtatious smile came and went. \"Otherwise I've kept myself up, you know. I do my exercises. Tell John\u2014I bless him for his patience, but it won't be much longer.\"\n\nIn spite of the humidity and the drifting spray in the greenhouse Peter's throat was dry. His own attempt at as smile felt like hardening plaster on his face. He knew he had only glimpsed the depths of her psychosis. The decent thing to do now was to leave her with some assurance that her fantasy would be fulfilled.\n\n\"I'll tell him, Miss Van Lier. That's the news he's been waiting for.\"\n\nThe following Saturday night Peter was playing pool with his old man at the Knights of Columbus, and letting Corin win. The way he used to let him win at Horse when Corin was still spry enough for some basketball: Just a little off my game tonight, Pete would always say, pretending annoyance. Corin bought the beers afterward and they relaxed in a booth at their favorite sports bar.\n\n\"Heard you was into the cold case files in the Ninth,\" Corin said, wiping some foam off his mustache. He looked at one of the big screens around the room. The Knicks were at the Heat, and tonight they couldn't throw one in the ocean.\n\n\"You hear everything, Pop,\" Pete said admiringly.\n\n\"In my borough. What's up?\"\n\n\"Just something I got interested in, I had a little spare time.\" He explained about the Van Lier slashing.\n\n\"How many times was she cut?\"\n\n\"Ten slashes, all on her face. He just kept cutting on her, even after she was down. That sound like all he wanted was a purse?\"\n\n\"No. Leaves three possibilities. A psycho, hated women. Or an old boyfriend she gave the heave-ho to, his ego couldn't take it. But you said the vic didn't make him.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Then somebody hired it done. Tell me again what your interest is in the vic?\"\n\n\"Eighteen, nineteen years ago, she posed for John Ransome.\"\n\nCorin rubbed a temple and managed to keep his disapproval muted. \"Jeez Marie, Petey.\"\n\n\"My girl is up there in Maine with him, Pop!\"\n\n\"And you're lettin' your imagination\u2014I see your mind workin'. But it's far-fetched, lad. Far-fetched.\"\n\n\"I suppose so,\" Peter mumbled in his beer.\n\n\"How many young women do you think have posed for him in his career?\"\n\n\"Seven that anybody knows about. Not counting Echo.\"\n\nCorin spread his hands.\n\n\"But nobody knows who they are, or where they are. Almost nobody, it's some kind of secret list. I'm tellin' you, Pop, there is too much about him that don't add up.\"\n\n\"That's not cop sense, that's your emotions talkin'.\"\n\n\"Two damn months almost, I don't see her.\"\n\n\"That was his deal. His and hers, and there's good reasons why Echo did it.\"\n\n\"Didn't tell you this before. That woman friend of his, whore, whatever: she carries a knife and Echo saw her almost use it on a kid in the subway.\"\n\n\"Jeez Marie, where's this goin' to end with you?\" Corin sat back in the booth and rapped the table once with the knuckles of his right fist. \"Tell you where it ends. Right here, tonight. You know why? Too much money, Petey. That's what it's always about.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know. I saw the commissioner's head up Ransome's ass.\"\n\n\"Remember that.\" He stared at Peter until exasperation softened into forgiveness. \"Echo have any problems up there she's told you about?\"\n\n\"No,\" Peter admitted. \"Ransome's just doing a lot of sketches of her, and she has time to paint. I guess everything's okay.\"\n\n\"Give her credit for good sense, then. And do your part.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know. Wait.\" His expression was pure naked longing and remorse. \"Two months. And you know what, Pop? It's like one of us died. Only I don't know which one, yet.\"\n\nAs she had done almost every day since arriving on Kincairn Echo took her breakfast in chilly isolation in a corner of the big kitchen, then walked to the lighthouse. Frequently she could see only a few feet along the path because of fog. But sometimes there was no fog; the air was sharp and windless as the rising sun cast upon the copper face of the sea a great peal of morning.\n\nShe'd learned early on that John Ransome was an insomniac who spent most of the deep night hours reading in his second-floor study or taking long walks by himself in the dark, with only a flashlight along island paths he'd been familiar with since he was a boy.\n\nSleep would come easier for him, Ransome assured her, as if apologizing, once he settled down to doing serious painting. But the unfinished portrait he'd begun in New York on a big rectangle of die board had remained untouched on his easel for nearly six weeks while he devoted himself to making postcard-size sketches of Echo, hundreds of them, or silently observing her own work take shape. Late at night he would leave Post-it Notes of praise or criticism on her easel.\n\nWhen they were together he was always cordial but preferred letting Echo carry the conversation. He seemed endlessly curious about her life. About her father, who had been a Jesuit until the age of fifty-one, when he met Rosemay, a Maryknoll nun. He never asked about Peter.\n\nThere were days when Echo didn't see him at all. She felt his absence from the island but had no idea of where he'd gone, or why. Not that it was any of her business. But it wasn't the working relationship she'd bargained for. His inability to resume painting made her uneasy. And it wasn't her nature to put up with being ignored, or feeling slighted, for long.\n\n\"Is it me?\" she'd asked him at dinner the night before.\n\nHer question, the mood of it, startled him.\n\n\"No. Of course not, Mary Catherine.\" He looked distressed, random gestures substituting for the words he couldn't find to reassure her. \"Case of nerves, that's all. It always happens. I'm afraid I'll begin and\u2014then I'll find myself drawing from a dry well.\" He paused to pour himself more wine. He'd been drinking more before and after dinner than was his custom; his aim was a little off and he grimaced. \"Afraid that everything I do will be trite and awful.\"\n\nEcho had sensed his vulnerability\u2014all artists had it. But she wasn't quite sure how to deal with his confession.\n\n\"You're a great painter.\"\n\nRansome shook his head, shying from the burden of her suggestion.\n\n\"If I ever believe that, then I will be finished.\" Echo got up, pinched some salt from a silver bowl, and spread it over the wine stain on the fine linen tablecloth. She looked hesitantly at him.\n\n\"How can I help?\"\n\nHe was looking at the salted stain. \"Does that work?\"\n\n\"Usually, if you do it right away.\"\n\n\"If human stains were so easy to remove,\" he said with sudden vehemence.\n\n\"God's always listening,\" she said, then thought it was probably too glib, patronizing, and unsatisfactory. She felt God, but she also felt there was little point in trying to explain Him to someone else.\n\nAfter a silence the unexpected flood of his passion ebbed.\n\n\"I don't believe as easily as you, Mary Catherine,\" he said with a tired smile that became tense. \"But if we do have your God watching us, then I think it likely that his revenge is to do nothing.\"\n\nRansome pushed his chair back and stood, looked at Echo, put out a hand and lifted her head slightly with thumb and forefinger on her chin. He said, studying her as if for the first time, \"The light in your eyes is the light from your heart.\"\n\n\"That's sweet,\" Echo said demurely, knowing what was coming next. She'd been thinking about it, and how to handle it, for weeks.\n\nHe kissed her on the forehead, not the lips, as if bestowing a blessing. That was sweet too. But the erotic content, enough to cause her lips to part and put a charge in her heartbeat, took her by surprise.\n\n\"I have to leave the island for a few days,\" he said then.\n\nRansome's studio had replaced the closetlike space that once had held the Kincairn light and reflecting mirror. It sat upon the spindle of the lighthouse shaft like a flying saucer made mostly of glass that was thirty feet in diameter. There was an elevator inside, another addition, but Echo always used the circular stairs coming and going. Ciera was a very good cook and the daily climb helped Echo shed the pounds that had a tendency to creep aboard like hitchhikers on her hips.\n\nShe had decided, because the day was neither blustery enough to blow her off her Vespa nor bitterly cold, to pack up her paints and easel and go cross island for an exercise in plein air painting on the cove and dock.\n\nApproaching Kincairn village, Echo saw John Ransome at the end of the town dock unmooring a cabin cruiser that had been tied up alongside Wilkins' Marine and the mail\/ferry boat slip. She stopped her puttering scooter in front of the cottage where a lone priest, elderly and in virtual exile in this most humble of parishes, lived with an equally old housekeeper. Echo had no reason for automatically keeping her distance from Ransome until she also saw Taja at the helm of the cruiser, which wasn't much of a reason either. She hadn't seen the Woman in Black nor given her much thought since the night of the artist's show at Cy Mellichamp's. Ransome never mentioned her. Apparently she seldom visited the island.\n\nFriend, business associate, confidante? Mistress, of course. But if she kept some distance between them now, perhaps that was in the past. Even if they were no longer lovers Echo assumed she might still be emotionally supportive, a rare welcome visitor to his isolato existence\u2014his stiller doom, Echo thought with a certain poignancy, remembering a phrase of Charlotte Bronte's from Echo's favorite novel, Jane Eyre.\n\nWatching Ransome jump into the bow of the cruiser, Echo felt frustrated for his sake. Obviously he was not going to be painting anytime soon. She also felt a dim sense of betrayal that made no sense to her. Yet it lingered like the spectral imprint of a kiss that had made her restless during a night of confused, otherworldly dreams; dreams of Ransome, dreams of being as naked in his studio as a snail on a thorn.\n\nEcho watched Taja back the cruiser from the dock and turn it toward the mainland, pour on the power. She decided to take a minute to go into the empty church. Was it time to ring the bell for a confession of her own? She couldn't make up her mind about that, and her heart was no help either.\n\nCy Mellichamp was using a phone at a gallery associate's desk in the second-floor office when Peter was brought in by a secretary. Mellichamp glanced at him with no hint of welcome. Two more associates, Mellichamp's morale-boosting term for salespeople, were working the phones and computers. In another large room behind the office paintings were being uncrated.\n\nMellichamp smiled grievously at something he was hearing and fidgeted until he had a chance to break in.\n\n\"Really, Allen, I think your affections are misplaced. There is neither accomplishment nor cachet in the accident of Roukema's success. And at six million\u2014no, I don't want to have this conversation. No. The man should be doing frescoes in tombs. You wanted my opinion, which I freely give to you. Okay, please think it over and come to your senses.\"\n\nCy rang off and looked again at Peter, with the fixed smile of a man who wants you to understand he could be doing better things with his time.\n\n\"Why,\" he asked Peter, \"do otherwise bright young people treat inherited fortunes the way rednecks treat junk cars?\" He shrugged. \"Mr. O'Neill! Delighted to see you again. How can I help you?\"\n\n\"Have you heard anything from Mr. Ransome lately?\"\n\n\"We had dinner two nights ago at the Four Seasons.\"\n\n\"Oh, he was in town?\" Cy waited for a more sensible question. \"His new paintings sell okay?\"\n\n\"We did very, very well. And how is Echo?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I'm not allowed to see her, I might be a distraction. I thought Ransome was supposed to be slaving away at his art up there in Maine.\"\n\nCy looked at his watch, looked at Peter again uncomprehendingly.\n\n\"I was hoping you could give me some information, Mr. Mellichamp.\"\n\n\"In regard to?\"\n\n\"The other women Ransome has painted. I know where one of them lives. Anne Van Lier.\" The casual admission was calculated to provoke a reaction; Peter didn't miss the slight tightening of Cy Mellichamp's baby blue eyes. \"Do you know how I can get in touch with the others?\"\n\nCy said after a few moments, \"Why should you want to?\" with a muted suggestion in his gaze that Peter was up to no good.\n\n\"Do you know who and where those women are?\"\n\nAn associate said to Cy, \"Princess Steph on three.\"\n\nDistracted, Cy looked over his shoulder. \"Find out if she's on St. Barts. I'll get right back to her.\"\n\nWhile Cy wasn't watching him Peter glanced at a computer on a nearby desk where nobody was working. But the person whose desk it was had carelessly left his user ID on the screen.\n\nCy looked around at Peter again. \"I could not help you if I did know,\" he said curtly. \"Their whereabouts are none of my business.\"\n\n\"Why is Ransome so secretive about those women?\"\n\n\"That, of course, is John's prerogative. Now if you wouldn't mind\u2014it has been one of those days\u2014\" He summoned a moment of the old charm. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Thanks for taking the time to see me, Mr. Mellichamp.\"\n\n\"If there should be a next time, unless it happens to be official, you would do well to leave that gold shield in your pocket.\"\n\nEIGHT\n\nPeter got home from his watch at twenty past midnight. He fixed himself a sardine sandwich on sourdough with a smelly slice of gouda and some salsa dip he found in the fridge. He carried the sandwich and a bottle of Sam Adams up the creaky back stairs to the third floor he shared with his brother Casey. The rest of the house was quiet except for his father's distant whistling snore. But with no school for two days Case was still up with his iMac. Graphics were Casey's passion: his ambition was to design the cars of the future.\n\nPeter changed into sweats. The third floor was drafty; a wind laced with the first fitful snow of the season was belting them.\n\nThere was an e-mail on the screen of his laptop that said only missyoumissyoumissyou. He smiled bleakly, took a couple of twenties from his wallet and walked through the bathroom he shared with Casey, pausing to kick a wadded towel off the floor in the direction of the hamper.\n\n\"Hi, Case.\"\n\nCasey, mildly annoyed at the intrusion, didn't look around.\n\n\"That looks like the Batmobile,\" Peter said of the sleek racing machine Casey was refining with the help of some Mac software.\n\n\"It is the Batmobile.\"\n\nPeter laid a twenty on the desk where Casey would see it out of the corner of his eye.\n\n\"What's that for?\"\n\n\"For helping me out.\"\n\n\"Doing what?\"\n\n\"See, I've got this user ID, but there's probably gonna be a log-on code too\u2014\"\n\n\"Hack a system?\"\n\n\"I'm not stealing anything. Just want to look at some names, addresses.\"\n\n\"It's against the law.\"\n\nPeter laid the second twenty on top of the first.\n\n\"Way I see it, it's kind of a gray area. There's something going on, maybe involves Echo, I need to know about. Right away.\"\n\nCasey folded the twenties with his left hand and slid them under his mouse pad.\n\n\"If I get in any trouble,\" he said, \"I'm givin' your ass up first.\"\n\nAfter nearly a week of Ransome's absence, Echo was angry at him, fed up with being virtually alone on an island that every storm or squall in the Atlantic seemed to make a pass at almost on a daily basis, and once again dealing with acute bouts of homesickness. Never mind that her bank account was automatically fattening twice a month, it seemed to be payment for emotional servitude, not the pleasant collaboration she'd anticipated. Only chatty e-mails from girlfriends, from Rosemay and Stefan and even Kate O'Neill, plus Peter's maddeningly noncommittal daily communications (he was hopeless at putting feelings into words), provided balance and escape from depression through the long nights. They reminded her that the center of her world was a long way from Kincairn Island.\n\nShe had almost no one to talk to other than the village priest, who seemed hard put to remember her name at each encounter, and Ransome's housekeeper. But Ciera's idea of a lively conversation was two sentences an hour. Much of the time, perhaps affected by the dismal weather that smote their rock or merely the oppression of passing time, Ciera's face looked as if Death had scrawled an \"overdue\" notice on it.\n\nEcho had books and her music and DVDs of recent movies arrived regularly. She had no difficulty in passing the time when she wasn't working. But she hated the way she'd been painting lately, and missed the stealth insights from her employer and mentor. Day after day she labored at what she came to judge as stale, uninspired landscapes, taking a palette knife to them as soon as the light began to fade. She didn't know if it was the creeping ennui or a faltering sense of confidence in her talent.\n\nNovember brought fewer hours of the crystal lambency she'd discovered on her first day there. Ransome's studio was equipped with full-spectrum artificial light, but she always preferred painting outdoors when it was calm enough, no tricky winds to snatch her easel and fling it out to sea.\n\nThe house of John Ransome, built to outlast centuries, was not a house in which she would ever feel at home, in spite of his library and collection of paintings that included some of his own youthful work that would never be shown anywhere. These she studied with the avid eye of an archaeologist in a newly unearthed pyramid. The house was stone and stout enough but at night in a hard gale had its creepy, shadowy ways. Hurricane lamps had to be lit two or three times a week at about the same time her laptop lost satellite contact and the screen's void reflected her dwindled good cheer. Reading by lamplight hurt her eyes. Even with earplugs she couldn't fall asleep when the wind was keening a single drawn-out note or slapdash, grabbing at shutters, mewling under the eaves like a ghost in a well.\n\nNothing to do then but lie abed after her rosary and cry a little as her mood worsened. And hope John Ransome would return soon. His continuing absence a puzzle, an irritant; yet working sorcery on her heart. When she was able to fall asleep it was Ransome whom she dreamed about obsessively. While fitful and half awake she recalled every detail of a self portrait and the faces of his women. Had any of his subjects felt as she now did? Echo wondered about the depth of each relationship he'd had with his unknown beauties. One man, seven young women\u2014had Ransome slept with any of them? Of course he had. But perhaps not every one.\n\nHis secret. Theirs. And what might other women to come, lying awake in this same room on a night as fierce as this one, adrift in loneliness and sensation of their own, imagine about Echo's involvement with John Leland Ransome?\n\nEcho threw aside her down comforter and sat on the edge of the bed, nervous, heart-heavy. Except for hiking shoes she slept fully dressed, with a small flame in one of the tarnished lamp chimneys for company and a hammer on the floor for security, not knowing who in that island community might take a notion, no matter what the penalty. Ciera went home at night to be with her severely arthritic husband, and Echo was alone.\n\nShe rubbed down the lurid gooseflesh on her arms, feeling guilty in the sight of God for what raged in her mind, for sexual cravings like nettles in the blood. She put her hand on the Bible beside her bed but didn't open it. Dear Lord, I'm only human. She felt, honestly, that it was neither the lure of his flesh nor the power of his talent but the mystery of his torment that ineluctably drew her to Ransome.\n\nA shutter she had tried to secure earlier was loose again to the incessant prying of the wind, admitting an almost continual flare of lightning centered in this storm. She picked up the hammer and a small eyebolt she'd found in a tool chest along with a coil of picture wire.\n\nIt was necessary to crank open one of the narrow lights of the mullioned window, getting a faceful of wind and spume in the process. As she reached for the shutter that had been flung open she saw by a run of lightning beneath boiling clouds a figure standing a little apart from the house on the boulders that formed a sea wall. A drenched white shirt ballooned in the wind around his torso. He faced the sea and the brawling waves that rose ponderously to foaming heights only a few feet below where he precariously stood, waves that crashed down with what seemed enough force to swamp islands larger than Kincairn.\n\nJohn Ransome had returned. Echo's lips parted to call to him, small-voiced in the tumult. Her skin crawled coldly from fear, but the shutter slammed shut on her momentary view of the artist.\n\nWhen she pushed it open again and leaned out slightly to see him, her eyelashes matting with salt spray, hair whipping around her face, Ransome had vanished.\n\nEcho cranked the window shut and backed away, tingling in her hands, at the back of her neck. She took a few deep breaths, wiping at her eyes, then turned, grabbed a flashlight and went to the head of the stairs down the hall from her room, calling his name in the darkness, shining the beam of the light down the stairs, across the foyer to the front door, which was closed. There was no trace of water on the floor, as she would have expected if he'd come in out of the storm.\n\n\"ANSWER ME, JOHN! ARE YOU HERE?\"\n\nSilence, except for the wind.\n\nShe bolted down the stairs, grabbed a hooded slicker off the wall-mounted coat tree in the foyer and let herself out.\n\nThe three-cell flashlight could throw a brilliant beam for well over a hundred yards. She looked around with the light, shuddering in the cold, lashed in a gale that had to be more than fifty knots. She heard thunder rolling above the shriek of the wind. She was scared to the marrow. Because she knew she had to leave the relative shelter afforded by the house at her back and face the sea where she'd last seen him.\n\nWith her head low and an arm protecting her face, she made her way to the seawall, the dash of waves terrifying in the beam of the flashlight. Her teeth were clenched so tight she was afraid of chipping them. Remembering the shock of being engulfed on what had been a calm day at the Jersey shore, pulled tumbling backwards and almost drowning in the sandy undertow.\n\nBut she kept going, mounted the seawall and crouched there, looking down at the monster waves. It was near to freezing. In spite of the hood and slicker she was already soaked and trembling so badly she was afraid of losing her grip on the flashlight as she crawled over boulders. Looking down into crevices where he might have fallen, to slowly drown at each long roll of a massive wave.\n\nThought she saw something\u2014something alive like an animal caught in discarded plastic wrap. Then she realized it was a face she was looking at in the down-slant of the flashlight, and it wasn't plastic, it was Ransome's white shirt. He lay sprawled on his back a few feet below her, dazed but not unconscious. His eyelids squinched in the light cast on his face.\n\nEcho got down from the boulder she was on, found some footing, got her hands under his arms and tugged.\n\nOne of his legs was awkwardly wedged between boulders. She couldn't tell if it was broken as she turned her efforts to pulling his foot free. Hurrying. Her strength ebbing fast. Battling him and the storm and sensing something behind her, still out to sea but coming her way with such size, unequaled in its dark momentum, that it would drown them both in one enormous downfall like a building toppling.\n\n\"MOVE!\"\n\nEcho had him free at last and pushed him frantically toward the top of the seawall. She'd managed to lose her grip on the flashlight but it didn't matter, there was lightning around their heads and all of the deep weight of the sea coming straight at them. She couldn't make herself look back.\n\nWhatever the condition of his leg, Ransome was able to hobble with her help. They staggered toward the house, whipsawed by the wind, until the rogue wave she'd anticipated burst over the seawall and sent them rolling helplessly a good fifty feet before its force was spent.\n\nWhen she saw Ransome's face again beneath the flaring sky he was blue around the mouth but his eyes had opened. He tried to speak but his chattering teeth chopped off the words.\n\n\"WHAT?\"\n\nHe managed to say what was on his mind between shudders and gasps.\n\n\"I'm n-n-not w-worth it, y-you know.\"\n\nHot showers, dry clothing. Soup and coffee when they met again in the kitchen. When she had Ransome seated on a stool she looked into his eyes for sign of a concussion, then examined the cut on his forehead, which was two inches long and deep enough so that it would probably scar. She pulled the edges of the cut together with butterfly bandages. He sipped his coffee with steady hands on the mug and regarded her with enough alertness so that she wasn't worried about that possible concussion.\n\n\"How did you learn to do this?\" he asked, touching one of the bandages.\n\n\"I was a rough-and-tumble kid. My parents weren't always around, so I had to patch myself up.\"\n\nHe put an inquisitive fingertip on a small scar under her chin.\n\n\"Street hockey,\" she said. \"And this one\u2014\"\n\nEcho pulled her bulky fisherman's sweater high enough to reveal a larger scar on her lower rib cage.\n\n\"Stickball. I fell over a fire hydrant.\"\n\n\"Fortunately... nothing happened to your marvelous face.\"\n\n\"Thanks be to God.\" Echo repacked the first aid kit and ladled clam chowder into large bowls, straddled a stool next to him. \"Ought to see my knees,\" she said, as an afterthought. She was ravenous, but before dipping the spoon into her chowder she said, \"You need to eat.\"\n\n\"Maybe in a little while.\" He uncorked a bottle of brandy and poured an ounce into his coffee.\n\nEcho bowed her head and prayed silently, crossed herself. She dug in. \"And thanks be to God for saving our lives out there.\"\n\n\"I didn't see anyone else on those rocks. Only you.\"\n\nEcho reached for a box of oyster crackers. \"Do I make you uncomfortable?\"\n\n\"How do you mean, Mary Catherine?\"\n\n\"When I talk about God.\"\n\n\"I find that... endearing.\"\n\n\"But you don't believe in Him. Or do you?\"\n\nRansome massaged a sore shoulder.\n\n\"I believe in two gods. The god who creates and the god who destroys.\"\n\nHe leaned forward on the stool, folded his arms on the island counter, which was topped with butcher block, rested his head on his arms. Eyes still open, looking at her as he smiled faintly.\n\n\"The last few days I've been keeping company with the god who destroys. You have a good appetite, Mary Catherine.\"\n\n\"Haven't been eating much. I don't like eating alone at night.\"\n\n\"I apologize for\u2014being away for so long.\"\n\nEcho glanced thoughtfully at him.\n\n\"Will you be all right now?\"\n\nHe sat up, slipped off his stool, stood behind her and put a hand lightly on the back of her neck.\n\n\"I think the question is\u2014after your experience tonight, will you be all right\u2014with me?\"\n\n\"John, were you trying to kill yourself?\"\n\n\"I don't think so. But I don't remember what I was thinking out there. I'm also not sure how I happened to find myself sitting naked on the floor of the shower in my bathroom, scrubbed pink as a boiled lobster.\"\n\nEcho put her spoon down. \"Look, I cut off your clothes with scissors and sort of bullied you into the shower and loofah'd you to get your blood going. Nothing personal. Something I thought I'd better do, or else. I left clothes out for you then went upstairs and took a shower myself.\"\n\n\"You must have been as near freezing as I was. But you helped me first. You're a tough kid, all right.\"\n\n\"You were outside longer than me. How much longer I didn't know. But I knew hypothermia could kill you in a matter of minutes. You had all of the symptoms.\"\n\nEcho resumed eating, changing hands with the spoon because she felt as if her right hand was about to cramp; it had been doing that for an hour.\n\nShe had cut off his clothes because she wanted him naked. Not out of prurience; she'd been scared and angry and needed to distance herself from his near-death folly and the hard reality of the impulse that had driven him outside in his shirt and bare feet to freeze or drown amid the rocks. Nude, barely conscious, and semicoherent, the significance of Ransome was reduced in her mind and imagination; sitting on the floor of the shower and shuddering as the hot water drove into him, he was to her like an anonymous subject in a life class, to be viewed objectively without unreliable emotional investment. It gave her time to think about the situation. And decide. If it was only creative impotence there was still a chance she could be of use to him. Otherwise she might as well be aboard when the ferry left at sunrise.\n\n\"Mary Catherine?\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I've never loved a woman. Not one. Not ever. But I may be in love with you.\"\n\nShe thought that was too pat to take seriously. A compliment he felt he owed her. Not that she minded the mild pressure of his palm on her neck. It was soothing, and she had a headache.\n\nEcho looked around at Ramsome. \"You're bipolar, aren't you?\"\n\nHe wasn't surprised by her diagnosis.\n\n\"That's the medical term. Probably all artists have a form of it. Soaring in the clouds or morbid in the depths, too blue and self-pitying to take a deep breath.\"\n\nEcho let him hold her with his gaze. His fingers moved slowly along her jawline to her chin. She felt that, all right. Maybe it was going to become an issue. He had the knack of not blinking very often that could be mesmerizing in a certain context. She lifted her chin away from his hand.\n\n\"My father was manic-depressive,\" she said. \"I learned to deal with it.\"\n\n\"I know that he didn't kill himself.\"\n\n\"Nope. Chain-smoking did the job for him.\"\n\n\"You were twelve?\"\n\n\"Just twelve. He died on the same day that I got\u2014my\u2014when I\u2014\"\n\nShe felt that she had blundered\u2014Way too personal, Echo\u2014and shut up.\n\n\"Became a woman. One of the most beautiful women I've been privileged to know. I feel that in a small way I may do your father honor by preserving that beauty for\u2014who knows? Generations to come.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Echo said, still resonant from his touch, her brain on lull. Then she got what he was saying. She looked at Ransome again in astonishment and joy. He nodded.\n\n\"I feel it beginning to happen,\" he said. \"I need to sleep for a few hours. Then I want to go back to that portrait of you I began in New York. I have several ideas.\" He smiled rather shyly. \"About time, don't you think?\"\n\nNINE\n\nAfter a few days of indecision, followed by an unwelcome intrusion that locked two seemingly unrelated incidents together in his mind, Cy Mellichamp made a phone call, then dropped around to the penthouse apartment John Ransome maintained at the Hotel Pierre. It was snowing in Manhattan. Thanksgiving had passed, and jingle bell season dominated Cy's social calendar. Business was brisk at the gallery.\n\nThe Woman in Black opened the door to Cy, admitting him to the large gloomy foyer, where she left him standing, still wearing his alpaca overcoat, muffler, and Cossack's hat. Cy swallowed his dislike for and mistrust of Taja and pretended he wasn't being slighted by John Ransome's gypsy whore. And who knew what else she was to Ransome in what had the appearance, to Mellichamp, of a folie \u00e0 deux relationship.\n\n\"We were hacked last night,\" he said. \"Whoever it was now has the complete list of Ransome women. Including addresses, of course.\"\n\nTaja cocked her head slightly, waiting, the low light of a nearby sconce repeated in her dark irises.\n\n\"The other, ah, visitation might not be germane, but I can't be sure. Peter O'Neill came to the gallery a few days ago. There was belligerence in his manner I didn't care for. Anyway, he claimed to know Anne Van Lier's whereabouts. Whether he'd visited her he didn't say. He wanted to know who the other women are. Pressing me for information. I said I couldn't help him. Then, last night as I've said, someone very resourceful somehow plucked that very information from our computer files.\" He gestured a little awkwardly, denying personal responsibility. There was no such thing as totally secure in a world managed by machines. \"I thought John ought to know.\"\n\nTaja's eyes were unwinking in her odd, scarily immobile face for a few moments longer. Then she abruptly quit the foyer, moving soundlessly on slippered feet, leaving the sharp scent of her perfume behind\u2014perfume that didn't beguile, it mugged you. She disappeared down a hallway lined with a dozen hugely valuable portraits and drawings by Old Masters.\n\nMellichamp licked his lips and waited, hat in hand, feeling obscurely humiliated. He heard no sound other than the slight wheeze of his own breath within the apartment.\n\n\"I, I really must be going,\" he said to a bust of Hadrian and his own backup reflection in a framed mirror that once had flattered royalty in a Bavarian palace. But he waited another minute before opening one of the bronze doors and letting himself out into the elevator foyer.\n\nGypsy whore, he thought again, extracting some small satisfaction from this judgment. Fortunately he seldom had to deal with her. Just to lay eyes on the Woman in Black with her bilious temperament and air of closely held violence made him feel less secure in the world of social distinction that, beginning with John Ransome's money, he had established for himself: a magical, intoxicating, uniquely New York place where money was in the air always, like pixie dust further enchanting the blessed.\n\nMoney and prestige were both highly combustible, however. In circumstances such as a morbid scandal could arrange, disastrous events turned reputations to ash.\n\nThe elevator arrived.\n\nNot that he was legally culpable, Cy assured himself while descending. It had become his mantra. On the snowy bright-eyed street he headed for his limo at the curb, taking full breaths of the heady winter air. Feeling psychologically exonerated as well, blamelessly distanced from the tragedy he now accepted must be played out for the innocent and guilty alike.\n\nPeter O'Neill arrived in Las Vegas on an early flight and signed for his rental car in the cavernous baggage claim area of McCarran airport.\n\n\"Do you know how I can find a place called the King Rooster?\"\n\nThe girl waiting on him hesitated, smiled ironically, looked up and said softly, \"Now I wouldn't have thought you were the type.\"\n\n\"What's that mean?\"\n\n\"First trip to Vegas?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"You didn't know that the King Rooster is, um, a brothel?\"\n\n\"No kidding?\"\n\n\"They're not legal in Las Vegas or Clark County.\" She looked thoughtfully at him. \"If you don't mind my saying\u2014you probably could do better for yourself. But it's none of my business, is it?\" She had two impish dimples in her left cheek.\n\nNext, Peter thought, she was going to tell him what time she got off from work. He smiled and showed his gold shield.\n\n\"I'm not on vacation.\"\n\n\"Ohhh. NYPD Blue, huh? I hated it when Jimmy Smits died.\" She turned around the book of maps the car company gave away and made notations on the top sheet with her pen. \"When you leave the airport, take the interstate south to exit thirty-three, that's Route 160 west? Blue Diamond Road. You want to go about forty miles past Blue Diamond to Nye County. When you get there you'll see this big mailbox on the left with a humungous, um, red cock\u2014the crowing kind\u2014on top of it. That's all, no sign or anything. Are you out here on a big case?\"\n\n\"Too soon to tell,\" Peter said.\n\nThe whorehouse, when he got there, wasn't much to look at. The style right out of an old Western movie: two square stories of cedar with a long deep balcony on three sides. In the yard that was dominated by a big cottonwood tree the kind of discards you might see at a flea market were scattered around. Old wagon wheels, an art-glass birdbath, a dusty carriage in the lean-to of a blacksmith's shed. There was a roofed wishing well beside the flagstone walk to the house. A chain-link fence that clashed with the rustic ambience surrounded the property. The gate was locked; he had to be buzzed in.\n\nInside it was cool and dim and New Orleans rococo, with paintings of reclining nudes that observed the civilities of fin de si\u00e8cle. Nothing explicit to threaten a timid male; their pussies were as chaste as closed prayer books. A Hispanic maid showed Peter into a separate parlor. Drapes were drawn. The maid withdrew, closing pocket doors. Peter waited, turning the pages of an expensive-looking leather-bound book featuring porn etchings in a time of derbies and bustles. The maid returned with a silver tray, delicate china cups and coffee service.\n\nShe said, \"You ask for Eileen. But she is indispose this morning. There is another girl she believe you will like, coming in just a\u2014\"\n\nPeter flashed his shield and said, \"Get Eileen in here. Now.\"\n\nTen more minutes passed. Peter opened the drapes and looked at sere mountains, the mid-range landscape pocked and rocky. A couple of wild burros were keeping each other company out there. He drank coffee. The doors opened again. He turned.\n\nShe was tall, a little taller than Peter in her high heels. She wore pale green silk lounging pajamas and a pale green harem mask that clung to the contours of her face but revealed only her eyes: they were dark, plummy, febrile in pockets of mascara. Tiny moons of sclera showed beneath the pupils.\n\n\"I'm Eileen.\"\n\n\"Peter O'Neill.\"\n\n\"Is there a problem?\"\n\n\"What's with the mask, Eileen?\"\n\n\"That's why you asked for me, isn't it? All part of the show you want.\"\n\n\"No. I didn't know about\u2014. Mind taking the mask off?\"\n\n\"But that's for upstairs,\" she protested, her tone demure. She began running her hands over her breasts, molding the almost sheer material of the draped pajamas around dark nipples. She cupped her breasts, making of them an offering.\n\n\"Listen, I didn't come here to fuck you. Just take it off. I have to see\u2014what that bastard did to you, Eileen.\"\n\nHer hands fell to her sides as she exhaled; the right hand twitched. Otherwise she didn't move.\n\n\"You know? After all these years I'm going to find out who did this to me?\"\n\n\"I've got a good idea.\"\n\nShe made a sound deep in her throat of pain and sorrow, but didn't attempt to remove the mask. She shied when Peter impatiently put out a hand to her shrouded face.\n\n\"It's okay. You can trust me, Eileen.\" Inches from her body, feeling the heat of her, aware of a light perfume and arousing musk, he reached slowly behind her blond head and touched the little bow where her mask was tied as gently as if he were about to grasp a butterfly.\n\n\"I've only trusted one man in my life,\" she said dispiritedly. Then, unagressively but firmly, she snugged her groin against his, tamely laying her head on his shoulder so he could easily untie the mask.\n\nHe'd been expecting scars similar to those Anne Van Lier wore for life. But Eileen's were worse. Much of her face had burned, rendered almost to bone. The scar gullies were slick and mahogany-colored, with glisters of purple. He could see a gleam of her back teeth on the left, most heavily damaged side.\n\nShe flinched at his appalled examination, lowering her head, thrusting at him with her pelvis.\n\n\"All right,\" she said. \"Now you're satisfied? Or are we just getting started?\"\n\n\"I told you I didn't want to\u2014\"\n\n\"That's a lie. You're ready to explode in your pants.\" But she relented, stepping back from him, with a grin that was almost evil in the context of a ravaged face. \"What's the matter? Your mommy told you to stay away from women like me? I'm clean. Cleaner than any little piece you're likely to pick up in a bar on Friday night. Huh? We're regulated in Nevada, in case you didn't know. The Board of Health dudes are here every week.\"\n\n\"I just want to talk. How did you get the face, Eileen?\"\n\nHer breath whistled painfully between her teeth.\n\n\"Fuck you mean? It's all in the case file.\"\n\n\"But I want to hear it from you.\"\n\nHer face had little mobility, but her lovely eyes could sneer.\n\n\"Oh. Cops and their perversions. You all belong in a Dumpster. Give me back my mask.\"\n\nShe shied again when he tried to tie the mask on, then sighed, touching one of Peter's wrists, an exchange of intimacy.\n\n\"My face, my fortune,\" she said. \"Would you believe how many men need a freakshow to get them up? God damn all of them. Present company excluded, I guess. You try to act tough but you've got a kind face.\" With the mask secure she felt bold enough to look him in the eye. \"Your coffee must have cooled off by now,\" she said, suddenly the gracious hostess. \"Would you like another cup?\"\n\nHe nodded. She sat on the edge of a gilt and maroon\u2013striped settee to pour coffee for them.\n\n\"So you want to hear it again. Why not?\" She licked a sugar cube a couple of times before putting it into her cup. \"I was alone in the lab, working on an experiment. Part of my PhD requirement in O-chem.\" Peter sipped coffee from the cup she handed him as he remained standing close to the settee. Still encouraging the intimacy she seemed to crave. It wasn't just cop technique to get someone to spill their guts. He felt anguish for Eileen, as her eyes wandered in remembrance. \"I, I was tired, you know, hadn't slept for thirty-six hours. Something like that. Didn't hear anyone come in. Didn't know he was there until he was breathing down my neck.\" She looked up. \"Is this what turns you on?\" she said, as if she'd lost track of who he was. Only another john to be entertained. She took Peter's free hand, raised it to her face, guided his ring finger beneath the mask and between her lips, touching it with the tip of her tongue. That was a new one on Peter, but the effect was disturbingly erotic.\n\n\"I started to turn on my stool,\" Eileen said, her voice close to a whisper as she looked up at Peter, lips caressing his captive finger, \"and got a cup of H2SO4 in my face.\"\n\n\"But you didn't see\u2014\"\n\n\"All I saw was a gloved hand, an arm. Then\u2014I was burning in hell.\" She bit down on his finger, at the base of the nail, laughed delightedly when he jerked his hand away.\n\n\"I can tell you who it was,\" Peter said angrily. \"Because you're not the first woman who posed for John Ransome and got a face like yours.\"\n\nHe wasn't fully prepared for the ferocity with which she came at him, hissing like a feral cat, hands clawlike to ream out his eyes. He caught her wrists and forced her hands down.\n\n\"John Ransome? That's crazy! John loved me and I loved him!\"\n\n\"Take it easy, Eileen! Did he come to see you after it happened?\"\n\n\"No! So what? You think I wanted him to see me like this? Think I want anyone looking at me unless they're paying for it? Oh how I make them pay!\"\n\n\"Eileen, I'm sorry.\" He had used as much force as he dared; she was strong in her fury and could inadvertantly break a wrist struggling with him. When she was off balance Peter pushed her hard away from him. \"I'm sorry, but I'm not wrong.\" He moved laterally away from her, not wanting some of his face to wind up under her fingernails. But she had choked on her outrage and was having trouble getting her breath.\n\n\"F-Fuck you! What are you cops... trying to do to John? Did one of the others say something against him? Tell me, I'll tear her fucking heart out!\"\n\n\"Were you that much in love with him?\"\n\n\"I'm not talking to you anymore! Some things are still sacred to me!\"\n\nEileen backed up a few steps and sat down heavily, her body in a bind as if she wore a straitjacket, harrowing sounds of grief in her throat.\n\n\"Whatever happened to that PhD?\" he asked calmly, though the skin of his forearms was prickling.\n\n\"That was someone else. Get out of here, before I have you thrown out. The sheriff and I are old friends. We paint each other's toenails. The chain-link fence? The goddamn desert? Forget about it. This is my home, no matter what you think. I own the Rooster. John paid for it.\"\n\nSaying his name she quaked as if an old, unendurable torment was about to erupt. She leaned forward and, one arm moving jerkily like a string puppet's, she began smashing teacups on the tray with her fist. Shards flew. When she stopped her hand was bleeding profusely. She put it in her lap and let it bleed.\n\n\"On your way, bud,\" Eileen said to Peter.\n\n\"Would you mind asking Lourdes to come in? I think it may be time for my meds.\"\n\nWhile he was waiting at the Las Vegas airport for his flight to Houston, delayed an hour and a half because of a storm out of the Gulf of Mexico, Peter composed a long e-mail to Echo, concluding with:\n\nSo far I can't prove anything. There's at least two more of them I need to see, so I'm on my way to Texas. But I want you to get off the island now. No good-byes, don't bother to pack. Go to my Uncle Charlie's in Brookline. 3074 East Mather. Wait for me there, I'll only be a couple of days.\n\nBy the time he boarded his flight to Houston, there still was no acknowledgment from Echo. It was six thirty-six P.M. on the East Coast.\n\nJohn Ransome was still working in his aerie studio and Echo was taking a shower when the Woman in Black walked into Echo's bedroom without a knock and had a look around. Art books heaped on the writing desk. The blouse and skirt and pearls she'd laid out for a leisurely dinner with Ransome. Her silver rosary, her Bible, her laptop. There was an e-mail message on the screen from Rosemay, apparently only half-read. Taja scrolled past it to another e-mail from a girl whom she knew had been Echo's college roommate. She skipped that one too and came to Peter O'Neill's most recent message.\n\nThis one Taja read carefully. Obviously Echo hadn't seen it, or she wouldn't have been humming so contentedly in the slow-running shower, washing her hair.\n\nTaja deleted the message. But of course if Peter didn't hear from Echo soon, he'd just send another, more urgent e-mail. The weather was decent for now, the Wi-Fi signal steady.\n\nShe figured she had four or five minutes, at least, to disable the laptop skillfully enough so that Echo wouldn't catch on that it had been sabotaged.\n\nBut Peter O'Neill was the real problem\u2014just as she had suspected and conveyed to John Ransome in the beginning, when Ransome was considering Echo as his next subject.\n\nNo matter how he rated as a detective, he wasn't going to learn anything useful in Texas. Taja could be certain of that.\n\nAnd she had a good idea of where he would show up during the next forty-eight hours.\n\nTEN\n\n\"Eventually they would have reconstructed her face,\" the late Nan McLaren's aunt Elisa said to Peter. \"The plastic surgery group is the best in Houston. World-renowned, in fact.\"\n\nHe was sitting with the aging socialite, who still retained a certain gleam that diet and exercise afforded septuagenarians, in the orangerie of a very large estate home in Sherwood Forest. There was a slow drip of rain from two big magnolias outside that were strung with tiny twinkling holiday lights. The woman had finished a brandy and soda and wanted another; she signaled the black houseboy tending bar. Peter declined another ginger ale.\n\n\"Of course Nan would never have looked the same. What was indefinable yet unique about her youthful beauty\u2014gone forever. Her nose demolished; facial bones not just broken but shattered. Such unexpected cruelty, so deadly to the soul, destroyed her optimism, her innocent ecstasy and joie de vivre. If you're familiar with the portraits that John Ransome painted, you know the Nan I'm speaking of.\"\n\n\"I saw them on the Internet.\"\n\n\"I only wish the family owned one. I understand all of his work has increased tremendously in value in the past few years.\" Elisa sighed and shifted the weight of the bichon frise dog on her lap. She stared at a recessed gas log fire in one angle of the octagonal garden room. \"Who would have thought that a single, unexpected blow from a man's fist could do such terrible damage?\"\n\n\"In New York they're called 'sly rappers,'\" Peter said. \"Sometimes they use a brick, or wear brass knuckles. They come up behind their intended victims, usually on a crowded sidewalk, tap them on a shoulder. And when they turn, totally defenseless, to see who's there\u2014\"\n\n\"Is it always a woman?\"\n\n\"In my experience. Young and beautiful, like Nan was.\"\n\n\"Dreadful.\"\n\n\"I understand Houston PD didn't get anywhere trying to find the perp.\"\n\n\"'Perp?' Yes, that's how they kept referring to him. But it happened so quickly; there were only a couple of witnesses, and he disappeared while Nan was bleeding there on the sidewalk.\" She reached up for the drink that the houseboy brought her. \"Her skull was fractured when she fell. She didn't regain consciousness for more than a week.\" Elisa looked at Peter while the bichon frise eagerly lapped at the brimming drink she held on one knee. \"But you haven't explained why the New York police department is interested in Nan's case.\"\n\n\"I can't say at this time, I'm sorry. Could you tell me when Nan started doing heroin?\"\n\n\"Between, I think, her third and fourth surgeries. What she really needed was therapy, but she stopped seeing her psychiatrist when she took up with a rather dubious young man. He, I'm sure, was the one who\u2014what is the expression? Got her hooked.\"\n\n\"Calvin Cotrona. A few busts, petty stuff. Yeah, he was a user.\"\n\nElisa took her brandy and soda away from the white dog with the large ruff of a head; he scolded her with a sharp bark. \"Can't give him any more,\" she explained to Peter. \"He becomes obstreperous, and pees on the Aubusson. Rather like my third husband, who couldn't hold his liquor either. Quiet down, Richelieu, or mommy will become deeply annoyed.\" She studied Peter again. \"You seem to know so much about Nan's tragedy and how she died. What is it you hoped to learn from me, Detective?\"\n\nPeter rubbed tired eyes. \"I wanted to know if Nan saw or heard from John Ransome once she'd finished posing for him.\"\n\n\"Not to my knowledge. After she returned to Houston she was quite blue and unsociable for many months. I suspected at the time she was infatuated with the man. But I never asked. Is it important?\" Elisa raised her glass but didn't drink; her hand trembled. She looked startled. \"But you can't mean\u2014you can't be thinking\u2014\"\n\n\"Mrs. McLaren, I've talked to two of Ransome's other models in the past few weeks. Both were disfigured. A knife in one case, sulphuric acid in the other. In a day or two, with luck, I'll be talking to another of the Ransome women, Valerie Angelus. And I hope to God that nothing has happened to her face because that's stretching coincidence way too far. And already it's scaring the hell out of me.\"\n\nIn his room at a Motel 6 near Houston's major airport, named for one of the U.S. presidents who had bloomed and thrived where a stink of corruption was part of the land, Peter called his Uncle Charlie in Brookline, Massachusetts. Thirty-six hours had passed since he'd e-mailed Echo from Vegas, but she hadn't showed up there. He tried Rosemay in New York; she hadn't heard from Echo either. He sent another e-mail that didn't go through. In exasperation he tried leaving a message on her pager, but it was turned off.\n\nFrustrated, he stretched out on the bed with a cold washcloth over his eyes. Traveling always gave him a queasy stomach and a headache. He chewed a Pepcid and tried to convince himself he had nothing to seriously worry about. The other Ransome women he knew of or had already interviewed had been attacked months after their commitments to the artist, and presumably their love affairs, were over.\n\nViolent psychopaths had consistent profiles. Pete couldn't see the urbane Mr. Ransome as a part-time stalker and slasher, no matter what the full moon could do to potentially unstable psyches. But there was another breed, and not so rare according to his readings of case studies in psychopathology, who, insulated by wealth and position and perverse beyond human ken, would pay handsomely to have others gratify their sick, secret urges.\n\nThere was no label he could pin on John Ransome yet. But the notion that Ransome had spent several weeks already carefully and unhurriedly manipulating Echo, first to seduce and finally to destroy her, detonated the fast-food meal that had been sitting undigested in his stomach like a bomb. He went into the bathroom to throw up, afterward sat on the floor exhausting himself in a helpless rage. Feeling Echo on his skin, allure of a supple body, her creases and small breast buds and tempting, half-awake eyes. Thinking of her desire to make love to him at the cottage in Bedford and his stiff-necked refusal of her. A defining instance of false pride that might have sent his life careering off in a direction he'd never intended it to go.\n\nHe wanted Echo now, desperately. But while he was savagely getting himself off what he felt was a whore's welcome in silk, what he saw was the rancor in Eileen's dark eyes.\n\nJohn Ransome didn't show up at the house until a quarter of ten, still wearing his work clothes that retained the pungency of the studio. Oil paints. To Echo the most intoxicating of odors. She caught a whiff of the oils before she saw him reflected in the glass of one of the bookcases in the first-floor library where she had passed the time with a sketchbook and her Prismacolor pencils, copying an early Ransome seascape. Painting the sea gave her a lot of trouble; it changed with the swiftness of a dream.\n\n\"I am so sorry, Mary Catherine.\" He had the look of a man wearied but satisfied after a fulfilling day.\n\n\"Don't worry, John. But I don't know about dinner.\"\n\n\"Ciera's used to my lateness. I need twenty minutes. You could select the wine. Chateau Petrus.\"\n\n\"John?\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I was looking at your self-portrait again\u2014\"\n\n\"Oh, that. An exercise in monomania. But I was sick of staring at myself before I finished. I don't know how Courbet could have done eight self-studies. Needless to say he was better looking than I am. I ought to take that blunder down and shove it in the closet under the stairs.\"\n\n\"Don't you dare! John, really, it's magnificent.\"\n\n\"Well, then. If you like it so much, Mary Catherine, it's yours.\"\n\n\"What? No,\" she protested, laughing. \"I only wanted to ask you about the girl\u2014the one who's reflected in the mirror behind your chair? So mysterious. Who is she?\"\n\nHe came into the library and stood beside her, rubbed a cheekbone where his skin, sensitive to paint-thinner, was inflamed.\n\n\"My cousin Brigid. She was the first Ransome girl.\"\n\n\"No, really?\"\n\n\"Years before I began to dedicate myself to portraits, I did a nude study of Brigid. After we were both satisfied with the work, we burned it together. In fact, we toasted marshmallows over the fire.\"\n\nEcho smiled in patient disbelief.\n\n\"If the painting was so good...\"\n\n\"Oh, I think it was. But Brigid wasn't of age when she posed.\"\n\n\"And you were?\"\n\n\"Nineteen.\" He shrugged and made a palms-up gesture. \"She was very mature for her years. But it would have been a scandal. Very hard on Brigid, although I didn't care what anyone would think.\"\n\n\"Did you ever paint her again?\"\n\n\"No. She died not long after our little bonfire. Contracted septicemia at her boarding school in Davos.\" He took a step closer to the portrait as if to examine the mirrorcameo more closely. \"She had been dead almost two years when I attempted this painting. I missed Brigid. I included her as a\u2014I suppose your term would be guardian angel. I did feel her spirit around me at the time, her wonderful, free spirit. I was tortured. I suppose even angels can lose hope for those they try to protect.\"\n\n\"Tortured? Why?\"\n\n\"I said that she died of septicemia. The result of a classmate's foolhardy try at aborting Brigid's four-month-old fetus. And, yes, the child was mine. Does that disgust you?\"\n\nAfter a couple of blinks Echo said, \"Nothing human disgusts me.\"\n\n\"We made love after we ate our marshmallows, shedding little flakes of burnt canvas as we undressed each other. It was a warm summer night.\" His eyes had closed, not peacefully. \"Warm night, star bright. I remember how sticky our lips were from the marshmallows. And how beautifully composed Brigid seemed to me, kneeling. On that first night of the one brief idyll of our lives.\"\n\n\"Did you know about the baby?\"\n\n\"Brigid wrote to me. She sounded almost casual about her pregnancy. She said she would take care of it, I shouldn't worry.\" For an instant his eyes seemed to turn ashen from self-loathing. \"Women have always given me the benefit of the doubt, it seems.\"\n\n\"You're not convincing either of us that you deserve to suffer. You were immature, that's all. Pardon me, but shit happens. There's still hope for all of us, on either side of heaven.\"\n\nWhile she was looking for a bottle of the Chateau Petrus '82 that Ransome had suggested they have with their dinner, Echo heard Ciera talking to someone. She opened another door between the rock-walled wine storage pantry and the kitchen and saw Taja sitting at the counter with a mug of coffee in her hands. Echo smiled but Taja only stared before deliberately looking away.\n\n\"Oh, she comes and goes,\" Ransome said of Taja after Ciera had served their bisque and returned to the kitchen.\n\n\"Why doesn't she have dinner with us?\" Echo said.\n\n\"It's late. I assume she's already eaten.\"\n\n\"Is she staying here tonight?\"\n\n\"She prefers being aboard the boat if we're not in for a blow.\"\n\nEcho sampled her soup. \"She chose me for you\u2014didn't she? But I don't think she likes me at all.\"\n\n\"It isn't what you're thinking.\"\n\n\"I don't know what I'm thinking. I get that way sometimes.\"\n\n\"I'll have her stay away from the house while you're\u2014\"\n\n\"No, please! Then I really am at fault somehow.\" Echo sat back in her chair, trailing a finger along the tablecloth crewelwork. \"You've known her longer than all of the Ransome women. Did you ever paint Taja? Or did you toast marshmallows over those ashes too?\"\n\n\"It would be like trying to paint a mask within a mask,\" Ransome said regretfully. \"I can't paint such a depth of solitude. Sometimes... she's like a dark ghost to me, sealed in a world of night I'm at a loss to imagine. Taja has always known that I can't paint her.\" He had bowed his head, as if to conceal a play of emotion in his eyes. \"She understands.\"\n\nELEVEN\n\nThe Knowles-Rembar Clinic, an upscale facility for the treatment of well-heeled patients with a variety of addictions or emotional traumas, was located in a Boston suburb not far from the campus of Wellesley College. Knowles-Rembar had its own campus of gracefully rolling lawns, brick-paved walks, great oaks and hollies and cedars and old rhododendrons that would be bountifully ablaze by late spring. In mid-December they were crusted with ice and snow. At one-twenty in the afternoon the sun was barely there, a mild buzz of light in layered gray clouds that promised more snow.\n\nThe staff psychiatrist Peter had come to see was a height-disadvantaged man who greatly resembled Barney Rubble with thick glasses. His name was Mark Gosden. He liked to eat his lunch outdoors, weather permitting. Peter accommodated him. He drank vending machine coffee and shared one of the oatmeal cookies Gosden's mother had baked for him. Peter didn't ask if the psychiatrist still lived with her.\n\n\"This is a voluntary facility,\" Gosden explained. \"Valerie's most recent stay was for five months. Although I felt it was contrary to her best interests, she left us three weeks ago.\"\n\n\"Who was paying her bills?\"\n\n\"I only know that they went to an address in New York, and checks were remitted promptly.\"\n\n\"How many times has Valerie been here?\"\n\n\"The last was her fourth visit.\"\n\nPeter was aware of a young woman slipping up on them from behind. She gave Peter a glance, put a finger to her lips, then pointed at Gosden and smiled mischievously. Mittens attached to the cuffs of her parka dangled. She had a superb small face and jug-handle ears. In spite of the smile he saw in her eyes the blankness of a saintly disorder.\n\n\"And you don't think much of her chances of surviving on the outside,\" Peter said to the psychiatrist, who grimaced slightly.\n\n\"I couldn't discuss that with you, Detective.\"\n\n\"Do you know where I can find Valerie?\"\n\nGosden brushed bread crumbs from his lap and drank some consomm\u00e9 from his lunchbox thermos. \"Well, again. That's highly confidential without, of course, a court order.\"\n\nWhen he put the thermos down the young woman, probably still a teenager Peter thought, put her chilly hands over Gosden's eyes. He flinched, then forced a smile.\n\n\"I wonder who this could be? I know! Britney Spears.\"\n\nThe girl took her hands away. \"Ta-da!\" She pirouetted for them, mittens flopping, and looked speculatively at Peter.\n\n\"How about that?\" Gosden said. \"It's Sydney Nova!\" He glanced at his watch and said with a show of dismay, \"Sydney, wouldn't you know it, I'm running late. 'Fraid I don't have time for a song today.\" He closed his lunch-box and got up from the bench, glancing at Peter. \"If you'll excuse me, I do have a seminar with our psych-tech trainees. I'm sorry I can't be of more help.\"\n\n\"Thanks for your time, Doctor.\"\n\nSydney Nova leaned on the back of the bench as Gosden walked away, giving her hair a couple of tosses like a frisky colt.\n\n\"You don't have to run off, do you?\" she said to Peter. \"I heard what, I mean who, you and Goz were talking about.\"\n\n\"Did you know Valerie Angelus?\"\n\nSydney held up two joined fingers, indicating the closeness of their relationship. \"When she's around, I mean. Do you have a cigarette I can bum?\"\n\n\"Don't smoke.\"\n\n\"Got a name?\"\n\n\"Peter.\"\n\n\"Cop, huh? You're yummy for a cop, Pete.\"\n\n\"Thanks. I guess.\"\n\nSydney had a way of whistling softly as a space filler. She continued to look Peter over.\n\n\"Yeah, Val and I talk a lot when she's here. She trusts me. We tell each other our dirty little secrets. Did you know she was a famous model before she threw a wheel the first time?\"\n\n\"Yeah. I knew that.\"\n\n\"Say, dude. Do you like your father?\"\n\n\"Sure. I like him a lot.\"\n\nSydney whistled again a little mournfully. She cocked her head this way and that, as if she were watching rats racing around her mental attic.\n\n\"Magazine covers when she was sixteen. Totally demento at eighteen. I guess fame isn't all that it's cracked up to be.\" Sydney cocked her head again, making a wry mouth. \"But nothing beats it for bringing in the money.\" Whistling. \"I haven't had my fifteen minutes yet. But I will. Keep getting sidetracked.\" She looked around the Knowles-Rembar campus, tight-lipped.\n\n\"Tell me more about Valerie.\"\n\n\"More? Well, she got like resurrected by that artist guy, spent a whole year with him on some island. Talk about head cases.\"\n\n\"You mean John Ransome?\"\n\n\"You got it, delicious dude.\"\n\n\"What did he do to Valerie?\"\n\n\"Some secrets you don't tell! I'll eat rat poison first. Oh, I forgot. Been there, done that. Hey, do you like The Sound of Music? I know all the songs.\"\n\nAs if she'd been asked to audition, Sydney stood on the bench with her little hands spread wide and sang some of \"Climb Ev'ry Mountain.\" Peter smiled admiringly. Sydney did have a good voice. She basked in his attention, muffed a lyric, and stopped singing. She looked down at him.\n\n\"I bet I know where Val is. Most of the time.\"\n\n\"You do?\"\n\n\"Help me down, Pete?\"\n\nHe put his hands on her small waist. She contrived to collapse into his arms. In spite of the bulky parka and her boots she seemed to weigh next to nothing. Her parted lips were an inch from his.\n\n\"Val has a thing for cemeteries,\" Sydney said. \"She can spend the whole day\u2014you know, like it's Disneyland for dead people.\"\n\nPeter set her down on the brick walk. \"Cemeteries. For instance?\"\n\n\"Oh, like that big one in Watertown? Mount Auburn, I think it is. Okay, your turn.\"\n\n\"For what, Sydney?\"\n\n\"Whatever Gosden said about voluntary, it's total bullshit. I'm in here like forever. But I could go with you. In the trunk of your car? Get me out of this place and I'll be real sweet to you.\"\n\n\"Sorry, Sydney.\"\n\nShe looked at him awhile longer, working on her lower lip with little fox teeth. Her gaze earthbound. She began to whistle plaintively.\n\n\"Thanks, Sydney. You were a big help.\"\n\nShe didn't look up as he walked away on the path.\n\n\"I put my father's eyes out,\" Peter heard her say. \"So he couldn't find me in the dark anymore.\"\n\nPeter spent a half hour in Mount Auburn cemetery, driving slowly in his rental car between groupings of very old mausoleums resembling grim little villages, before he came to a station wagon parked alongside the drive, its tailgate down. A woman in a dark veil was lifting an armload of flowers from the back of the wagon. He couldn't tell much about her by winter light, but the veil was an unfortunate clue. He parked twenty feet away and got out. She glanced his way. He didn't approach her.\n\n\"Valerie? Valerie Angelus?\"\n\n\"What is it? I still have sites to visit, and I'm late today.\"\n\nThere were more floral tributes in the station wagon. But even from where he was the flowers didn't appear to be fresh; some were obviously withered.\n\n\"My name is Peter O'Neill. Okay if I talk to you, Valerie?\"\n\n\"Could we just skip that, I'm very busy.\"\n\n\"I could help you while we talk.\"\n\nShe had started uphill in a swirl of large snowflakes toward a mausoleum of rust-red marble with a Greek porch. She paused and shifted the brass container of wilted sprays of flowers that she held in both arms and looked around.\n\n\"Oh. That would be very nice of you. What is the nature of your business?\"\n\n\"I'm a New York City detective.\" He walked past the station wagon. She was waiting for him. \"Are you in the floral business, Valerie?\"\n\n\"No.\" She turned again to the mausoleum on the knoll. Peter caught up to her as she was laying the memorial flowers at the vault's entrance.\n\n\"Is this your family\u2014\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, kneeling to position the brass pot just so in front of barred doors, fussing with the floral arrangement. She stepped back for a critical look at her work, then glanced at the inscription tablet above the doors. The letters and numerals were worn, nearly unreadable. \"I don't know who they were,\" she said. \"It's a very old mausoleum, as you can see. I suppose there aren't many descendants who remember, or care.\" She exhaled, the mourning veil fluttering. The veil did a decent job of disguising the fact that her facial features were distorted. If the veil had been any darker or more closely woven, probably she wouldn't be able to see where she was going. \"But we'll all want to be remembered, won't we?\"\n\n\"That's why you're doing this?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" She turned and walked past him down the knoll, boots crunching through snow crust. \"You're a detective? I thought you might be another insurance investigator.\" The cold wind teased her veil. \"Well, come on. We're doing that one next.\" She pointed to another vault across the drive from where she'd left her station wagon.\n\nPeter helped her pull a white fan-shaped latticework filled with hothouse flowers onto the tailgate. The weather was too brutal for her not to be wearing gloves, but with her arm extended an inch or so of wrist was exposed. The multiple scars there were reminders of more than one suicide attempt.\n\nThey carried the lattice to the next mausoleum, large enough to enclose a family tree of Biblical proportions. A squirrel nickered at them from a pediment.\n\n\"They wouldn't pay, you know,\" Valerie said. \"They claimed that because of my... history, I disabled my own car. Now that's just silly. I don't know anything about cars. How the brakes are supposed to work.\"\n\n\"Your brakes failed?\"\n\n\"We'll put it here,\" Valerie said, sweeping away leaves collected in a niche. When she was satisfied that the tribute was properly displayed she looked uneasily around. \"Next we're going to that sort of ugly one with the little fountain. But we need to hurry. They make me leave, you know, they're very strict about that. I can't come back until seven-thirty in the morning. So I... must spend the night by myself. That's always the hard part, isn't it? Getting through the night.\"\n\nShe didn't talk much while they finished unloading the flowers and dressing up the neglected mausoleums. Once she appeared to be pleased with her afternoon's work and at peace with herself, Peter asked, as if all along they'd been having a conversation about Ransome, \"Did John come to see you after your accident?\"\n\nValerie paused to run a gloved hand over a damaged marble plinth.\n\n\"Seventeen sixty-two. Wasn't that a long time ago.\"\n\n\"Valerie\u2014\"\n\n\"I don't know why you're asking me questions,\" she said crossly. \"I'm cold. I want to go to my car.\" She began walking away, then hesitated. \"John is... all right, isn't he?\"\n\n\"Was the last time I saw him. By the way, he sends his warmest regards.\"\n\n\"Ohhh. Well, there's good news. I mean that he's all right. And still painting?\" Peter nodded. \"He's a genius, you know.\"\n\n\"I'm not one to judge.\"\n\nHer tone changed as they walked on. \"Let's just skip it. Talking about John. I can't get Silkie to shut up about him. He was always so generous to me. I don't know why Silkie is afraid of him. John wouldn't hurt her.\"\n\n\"Who's Silkie?\"\n\n\"My friend. I mean she comes around. Says she's my friend.\"\n\n\"What does she say about John?\"\n\nValerie closed the tailgate of her wagon. She crossed her arms, shuddering in spite of the fur-lined greatcoat she wore.\n\n\"That John wanted to\u2014destroy all of us. So that only his paintings live. How ridiculous. The one thing I was always sure of was John's love for me. And I loved him. I'm able to say it now. Loved him. I was going to have his baby.\"\n\nPeter took a few unhappy moments to absorb that. \"Did he know?\"\n\n\"Uh-uh. I found out after I left the island. I tried and tried to get in touch with John, but\u2014they wouldn't let me. So I\u2014\"\n\nValerie faced Peter. In the twilight he could see her staring at him through the mesh over her face. She drew a horizontal line with a finger where her abdomen would be beneath the greatcoat.\n\n\"\u2014Did this. And then I\u2014\" She held up an arm, exposing another scarred wrist above the fur cuff of the coat sleeve. \"\u2014did this. I was so... angry.\" She let her arm drop. \"I don't know why I'm telling you this. But Dr. Gosden says 'Don't keep the bad things hidden, Valerie.' And you are a friend of John's. I would never want him to think poorly of me, as my mother used to say. Skip my mother. I never talk about her. Would you let John know I'm okay now? The anger is gone. I'll be just fine, no matter what Goz thinks.\" She lifted her face to the darkened sky, snowflakes spangling her veil. She swallowed nervously. \"Do you have the time, Peter?\"\n\n\"Ten to five.\" He stamped his feet; his toes were freezing.\n\n\"Gates close at five in winter. We'd better go.\"\n\n\"Valerie, when did Silkie pose for Ransome?\"\n\n\"Oh, that was over with a year ago. I've never been jealous of her.\"\n\n\"Has Silkie had any accidents you know of?\"\n\n\"No,\" Valerie said, sounding mildly perplexed. \"But I told you, obsessing about John John John all the time has her in a state. What I think, she's just having a hard time getting over him, so she makes up stuff about how he wants to hurt her. When it's the other way around. Goz would say she's having neurotic displacements. Anyway, she uses different names and doesn't have a home of her own. Picks up guys and stays with them a couple of nights, week at the most, then moves on.\"\n\n\"Then you don't know how I can get hold of her.\"\n\n\"Well\u2014she left me a phone number. If I ever needed her, she said.\" Valerie turned the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled. She looked back at Peter. \"I can try to find the number for you later.\" Her usually somber tone had lightened. \"Why don't you come by, say, nine o'clock?\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"415 West Churchill. I'm in 6-A. I know I must seem old to you, Peter. Sometimes I feel\u2014ancient. Like I'm living a whole lot of lives at the same time. Skip that. Truth is I'm only twenty-seven! You probably wouldn't have guessed. I'm not coming on to you or anything, but I could make dinner for us. Would you like that?\"\n\n\"Very much. Thank you, Valerie.\"\n\n\"Call me Val, why don't you?\" she said, and drove off.\n\nEcho was rosy-fresh from a long hot soak, sitting at the foot of her bed with her hair bound up, frowning at the laptop computer she couldn't get to work. She looked up at a knock on her door; she was clearing her throat to speak when the door opened and John Ransome looked in.\n\n\"Oh, Mary Catherine. I'm sorry\u2014\"\n\n\"No, it's okay. I was about to get dressed. John, there's something wrong with my laptop, it isn't working at all.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"Wish I could help. I'm barely computer literate; I've never even looked inside one of those things. There's a computer in my office you're welcome to use.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nHe was closing the door when she said, \"John?\"\n\n\"yes?\"\n\n\"It's going well for you, isn't it? Your painting. You know, you looked happy today\u2014well, most of the time.\"\n\n\"Did I?\" he smiled, almost reluctant to confirm this. \"All I know is, the hours go by so quickly in good company. And the work\u2014yes, I am pleased. I don't feel tired tonight. How about you? Posing doesn't seem to tire or bore you.\"\n\n\"Because I always have something interesting to think about or tell you. I try not to talk too much. I'm not tired either but I'm starving.\"\n\n\"Then I'll see you downstairs.\" But he didn't leave or look away from her. He'd had his own bath. He wore corduroys and a thick sweater with a shawl collar. He had a glass of wine in his left hand. \"Mary Catherine, I was thinking\u2014but this really isn't the time, I'm intruding.\"\n\n\"What is it, John? You can come in, it's okay.\"\n\nHe smiled and opened the door wider. But he stayed in the doorway, drank some wine, looked fondly at her.\n\n\"I've been thinking of trying something new, for me. Painting you contrapposto, nothing else on the canvas, no background.\"\n\nShe nodded thoughtfully.\n\n\"Old dog, new tricks,\" he said with a shrug, still smiling.\n\n\"You'd want me to pose nude, then.\"\n\n\"Yes. Unless you have strong reservations. I'd understand. It's just an idea.\"\n\n\"But I think it's a good idea,\" she said quickly. \"You know I'm in favor of whatever makes the work go more easily, inspires you. That's why I'm here.\"\n\n\"You don't have to decide impetuously,\" he cautioned. \"There's plenty of time\u2014\"\n\nEcho nodded again. \"I'm fine with it, John. Believe me.\"\n\nAfter a few moments she rose slowly from the bed, her lips lightly compressed, with a certain inwardness that distanced her from Ransome. She slowly and with pleasure let down her hair, arms held high, glistening by lamplight. She gave her abundant dark mane a full shakeout, then stared at the floor for a few seconds longer before turning away from him as she undid the towel.\n\nRansome's face was impassive as he stared at Echo, his creative eye absorbing motion, light, shadow, coloring, contour. In that part of his mind removed from her subtle eroticism there was a great cold weight of ocean, the tolling waves.\n\nHaving folded the towel and lain it on the counterpane, Echo was still, seeming not to breathe, a hand outstretched as if she were a nymph reaching toward her reflection on the surface of a pool.\n\nWhen at last she faced him she was easeful in her beauty, strong in her trust of herself, her purpose, her value. Proud of what they were creating together.\n\n\"Will you excuse me now, John?\" she said.\n\nTWELVE\n\nWhen Valerie finished dressing for her anticipated dinner date with Peter O'Neill, having selected a clingy rose cocktail dress she'd almost forgotten was in her closet and a veil from her drawerful of veils to match, she returned to the apartment kitchen to check on how dinner was coming along. They were having gingered braised pork with apple and winter squash kebobs. She'd marinated the pork and other ingredients for two hours. The skewers were ready to grill as soon as Peter arrived. There was a bowl of tossed salad in the refrigerator. For dessert\u2014now what had she planned for dessert? Oh, yes. Lemon-mint frappes.\n\nBut as soon as she walked into the small neat kitchen Valerie saw that the glass dish on the counter was empty and clean. No pork cubes marinating in garlic, orange juice, allspice, and olive oil. The unused metal skewers were to the left of the dish. The recipe book lay open.\n\nShe stared blankly at the untouched glass dish. Her scarred lips were pursed beneath her veil. She felt something let go in her mind and build momentum swiftly, like a roller-coaster on the downside of a bell curve with a 360-degree loop just ahead. She heard herself scream childishly on a distant day of fun and apprehension.\n\nBut I\u2014\n\n\"There's nothing in the refrigerator either,\" she heard her mother say. \"Just a carton of scummy old milk.\"\n\nThe roller-coaster plummeted into a pit of darkness. Valerie turned. Her mother was leaning in the kitchen doorway. The familiar sneer. Ida had compromised the ardor of numerous men (including Valerie's daddy), methodically breaking them on the wheel of her scorn. Now her once-lush body sagged; her potent beauty had turned, glistering like the scales of a dead fish.\n\n\"Hopeless. You're just hopeless, Valerie.\"\n\nValerie swallowed hurt feelings, knowing it was pointless to try to defend herself. She closed her eyes. The thunder of the roller-coaster had reached her heart. When she looked up again her mother was still hanging around with her wicked lip and punishing sarcasm. Giving it to little Val for possessing the beauty Ida had lost forever. Valerie could go deaf when she absolutely needed to. Now should she take a peek into the refrigerator? But she knew her mother had been right. Good intentions aside, Val accepted that she'd drifted off somewhere when she was supposed to be preparing a feast.\n\nOkay, embarrassing. Skip all that.\n\nValerie returned to the dining nook where the table was set, the wine decanted, candles lit. Beautiful. At least she'd done that right. She was thirsty. She thought it would be okay if she had a glass of wine before John arrived.\n\nNo, wait\u2014could he really be coming to see her after all this time? She glanced fearfully at her veiled reflection in the dark of the window behind the table. Then she picked up the carafe in both hands and managed to pour a glass nearly full without spilling a drop. As she drank the roller-coaster stopped its jolting spree, swooping from brains to heart and back again.\n\nHer mother said, \"You can't be in any more pageants if you're going to wet yourself onstage. We're all fed up, just fed up and disgusted with you, Val.\"\n\nValerie looked guiltily at the carpet between her feet where she was dripping urine. The roller-coaster gave a start-up lurch, pitching her sideways. And she wasn't securely locked in this time. She felt panic.\n\nHer mother said, \"For once have the guts to take what's coming to you.\"\n\nValerie said, \"You're an evil bitch and I've always hated you.\"\n\nHer mother said, \"Fuck that. You hate yourself.\"\n\nNo use arguing with her when Ida was in high dander and fine acidic fettle. When she was death by a thousand tiny cuts.\n\nValerie felt the slow, heavy, ratcheting up of the coaster toward the pinnacle that no longer seemed unobtainable to her. Her throat had swelled nearly closed from unshed tears.\n\nShe set her glass down and filled it again. Walked a little unsteadily with the motion of the roller-coaster inside her providing impetus through the furnished apartment that was bizarrely decorated with old putrid flowers she picked up for nickels and dimes at the wholesale market. She unlocked the door and walked out, leaving the door standing open.\n\nWhen the elevator came she wasn't at all surprised to see John Ransome inside.\n\n\"Where're you going?\" he asked her. \"To the top this time?\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\nHe pushed the button for the twentieth floor. Valerie sipped her wine and stared at him. He looked the same. The smile that went down like cream and had you purring in no time. But that was then.\n\n\"You did love me, didn't you?\" she asked timidly, barely hearing herself for the racket the roller-coaster was making, all the screaming souls aboard.\n\n\"Don't make me deal with that now,\" he said, a hint of vexation souring his smile.\n\nValerie pushed the veil she'd been holding away from her face to the crown of her head, where it became tangled in her hair.\n\n\"You were always an insensitive selfish son of a bitch.\"\n\n\"Good for you, Valerie,\" her mother said. Coming from Ida it was like a benediction.\n\nJohn Ransome acknowledged her human failings and with a ghostly nod forgave her.\n\n\"I believe this is your floor.\"\n\nValerie got off the elevator, kicked her shoes from her feet (no good for walking on walls) and proceeded to the steel door that led to the roof of her building. There she quailed.\n\n\"Isn't anyone coming with me?\" she said.\n\nWhen she turned around she saw that the elevator was empty, the doors silently closing.\n\nOh, well, Valerie thought. Skip it.\n\nPeter arrived at 415 West Churchill thirty seconds behind the fire department\u2014a pumper truck and a paramedic bus\u2014which had passed him on the way. Two police cars were just pulling up from different directions. Two couples with dogs on leashes were looking up at the roof of the high-rise building. The doorman apparently had just finished throwing up in shrubbery.\n\nThe night was windless. Snow fell straight down, thick as a theatre scrim. The dogs were agitated in the presence of death. The body lay on the walk about twenty feet outside the canopy at the building's entrance. Red dress contrasting with an icy, broken-off wing of an arborvitae. Pete knew who it was, had to be, before he got out of the car.\n\nHe checked his watch automatically. Eight minutes to nine o'clock. His stomach churned from shock and rage as he walked across the street and stepped over a low snowbank, shield in hand.\n\nOne of the cops was taking a tarp and body bag out of the trunk of his unit. The other one was talking to the severely shaken doorman.\n\n\"She just missed me.\" He looked at the front of his coat as if afraid of finding traces of spattered gore. \"Hit that tree first and bounced.\" He looked around, face white as snails. \"Aw Jesus.\"\n\n\"Any idea who she is?\"\n\n\"Well, the veil. She always wore veils, you know, she was in an accident, went headfirst through the windshield. Valerie Angelus. Used to be a model. Big-time, I mean.\"\n\nPeter kneeled beside Valerie's body, lying all wrong in its heaped brokenness. Twenty-one stories including the roof, a minimum of two hundred twenty feet. Her blood black on the recently cleared walk, absorbing snowflakes. The cop put his light on Valerie's head for a few seconds; fortunately not much of her face was showing. Peter told him to turn the flashlight off. He crossed himself and stood.\n\n\"Want I should check the roof?\" the uniform asked him. \"Before CSI gets here?\"\n\nPete nodded. He was a couple of states outside of his jurisdiction and still on autopilot, trying to deal with another dead end of a long-running tragedy.\n\nThe paramedics had come over. Peter didn't want to explain his presence or interest in Valerie to the detectives who would be showing up along with CSI. Time to go.\n\nWhen Peter turned away he saw a familiar face through the fall of snow. She was about a hundred feet away. She had stepped out on the driver's side of a Cadillac Escalade that was idling at an intersection. He knew her, but he couldn't place her.\n\nShe was tall, a black woman, well-dressed. Even at that distance an expression of horror was vivid on her face. He wondered how long she'd been there. He stared at her, but nothing clicked right away. Nevertheless he began walking briskly toward the woman.\n\nHis interest startled her. She slipped back into the Escalade.\n\nGlimpsing her from a different angle, he remembered. She had been John Ransome's model before Echo. And as far as he could tell, although the snow obscured his vision, there was nothing wrong with her face.\n\nThen she had to be Silkie, Valerie's friend. Who, Valerie had claimed, was afraid\u2014very afraid\u2014of John Ransome.\n\nHe began running toward the Escalade, shield in hand. But Silkie, after staring at him for a couple of moments through the windshield, looked back and threw the SUV into reverse. Hell-bent to get out of there. As if the shock of Valerie's death had been replaced by fear of being detained by cops and questioned.\n\nOf all the Ransome women, she just might be the one who could help him nail John Ransome's ass. Pete ran. She couldn't drive backwards forever, even though she was pulling away from him.\n\nAt the next intersection she swerved around a car that had jammed on its brakes and slid to the curb. Obviously the Escalade was in four-wheel drive; no handling problems. She straightened out the SUV and gunned it. But Peter got a break as the headlights of the car she had nearly run up on the sidewalk shone on the license plate. Long enough for him to pick up most of the plate number. He stopped running and watched the SUV disappear down a divided street. He took out his ballpoint pen and jotted down the number of the Escalade. Missing a digit, probably, but that wouldn't be a problem.\n\nHe had Silkie. Unless, of course, the SUV was stolen.\n\nThe wind was high. Echo dreamed uneasily. She was naked in the cottage in Bedford. Going from room to room, desperate to talk to Peter. He wasn't there. None of the phones she tried were working. Forget about e-mail; her laptop was still down.\n\nJohn Ransome was calling her. Angry that she'd left him before she finished posing. But she didn't want to be with him. His studio was filled with ugly birds. She'd never liked birds since a pigeon pecked her once while she was sitting on a bench at the Central Park Zoo. These were all black, like the Woman in Black. They screeched at her from their perches in the cage John had put her in. He painted her from outside the cage, using a long brush with a sable tip that stroked over her body like waves. She wasn't afraid of these waves, but she felt guilty because she liked it so much, trembling at the onset of that great rogue wave that was rolling erotically through her body. She tried to twist and turn away from the insidious strokes of his brush.\n\n\"No! What are you trying to do to us? You're not going anywhere!\"\n\nEcho sat straight up in bed, breathing hard at the crest of her sex dream. Then she sagged to one side, weak from vertigo. All but helpless. Her mouth and throat were dry. She lay quietly for a minute or so until her heartbeat subsided and strength crept back into her hands. Her reading lamp was on. She'd fallen asleep while reading Villette.\n\nThe wind outside moaned and that shutter was loose again. When she moved her body beneath the covers she could tell her sap had been running at the climax of her dream. She sighed and yawned, still spikey with nerves, turned to reach for a bottle of water on the night table and discovered John Ransome standing in the doorway of her bedroom.\n\nHe was unsteady on his feet, head nodding a little, eyes glass. Dead drunk, she thought, with a jolt of fear.\n\n\"John\u2014\"\n\nHis lips moved but he didn't make a sound.\n\n\"You can't be here,\" she said. \"Please go away.\"\n\nHe leaned against the jamb momentarily, then walked as if he were wearing dungeon irons toward the bed.\n\n\"No, John,\" she said. Prepared to fight him off.\n\nHe gestured as if waving away her objection. \"Couldn't stop her,\" he mumbled. \"Hit me. Gone. This is\u2014\"\n\nThree feet from Echo he lost what little control he had of his body, pitched forward to the bed, held onto the comforter for a few moments, eyes rolling up meekly in his head; then he slowly crumpled to the floor.\n\nEcho jumped off the bed to kneel beside him. She saw the swelling lump as large as her fist through the hair on the left side of his head. There was a little blood\u2014in his hair, sprinkled on his shirt collar. Not a gusher. She didn't mind the sight of blood but she knew she might have lost it if he was critically injured. Didn't look so bad on the outside but the fragile brain had taken a beating. That was her biggest worry. There was no doctor on the island. Three men and a woman were certified as EMTs, but Echo didn't know who they were or where they lived.\n\nShe was able to lift him up onto the bed. D\u00e9j\u00e0 vu all over again, without the threat of hypothermia this time. He wasn't unconscious. She rolled him onto his stomach and turned his head aside so he would be less likely to aspirate his own vomit if he became nauseous. Ciera, she knew, sometimes got the vapors over a hot stove and kept ammonium carbonate on hand. Echo fled downstairs to the kitchen, found the smelling salts, twisted ice in a towel and ran back to her room.\n\nShe heard him snoring gently. It had to be a good sign. She carefully packed the swelling in ice.\n\nWhat a crack on the head. Let him sleep or keep him awake? She wiped at tears that wouldn't stop. Go down the road and knock on doors until she found an EMT? But she was afraid to go out into freezing wind and dark, afraid of Taja.\n\nTaja, she thought, as the shutter slammed and her backbone iced up to the roots of her hair. Couldn't stop her, John had said. Gone. But why had she done this to him, what were they fighting about?\n\nEcho slid the hammer from under the bed. She went to the door. There was no lock. She put a straight-back chair against it, jammed under the doorknob, then climbed back onto her bed beside John Ransome.\n\nShe counted his pulse, wrote it down, noted the time. Every fifteen minutes. Keep doing it, all night. While watching over him. Until he woke up, or\u2014but she refused to think about the alternative.\n\nAt dawn he stirred and opened his eyes. Looked at her without comprehension.\n\n\"Brigid?\"\n\n\"I'm Ec\u2014Mary Catherine, John.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" His eyes cleared a little. \"Happened to me?\"\n\n\"I think Taja hit you with something. No, don't touch that lump.\" She had him by the wrist.\n\n\"Wha? Never did that before.\" An expression close to terror crossed his face. \"Where she?\"\n\n\"I don't know, John.\"\n\n\"Bathroom.\"\n\n\"You're going to throw up?\"\n\n\"No. Don't think so. Pee.\"\n\nShe helped him to her bathroom and waited outside in case he lost consciousness again and fell. She heard him splash water in his face, moaning softly. When he came out again he was steadier on his feet. He glanced at her.\n\n\"Did I call you Brigid?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Would've been like you, if she'd lived.\"\n\n\"Lie down again, John.\"\n\n\"Have to\u2014\"\n\n\"Do what?\"\n\nHe shook his head, and regretted it. She guided him to her bed and he stretched out on his back, eyes closing.\n\n\"Stay with me?\"\n\n\"I will, John.\" She touched her lips to his dry lips. Not exactly a kiss. And lay down beside him, staring at the first flush of sun through the window with the broken shutter. She felt anxious, a little demoralized, but immensely grateful that he seemed to be okay.\n\nAs for Taja, when he was ready they were going to have a serious talk. Because she understood now just how deeply afraid John Ransome was of the Woman in Black.\n\nAnd his fear had become hers.\n\nTHIRTEEN\n\nThe SUV Silkie had been driving belonged to a thirty-two-year-old architect named Milgren who lived a few blocks from MIT in Cambridge. Peter called Milgren's firm and was told he was attending a friend's wedding in the Bahamas and would be away for a few days. Was there a Mrs. Milgren? No.\n\nEight inches of fresh snow had fallen overnight. The street in front of the building where Milgren lived was being plowed. Peter had a late breakfast, then returned. The address was a recently renovated older building with a gated drive on one side and tenant parking behind it. He left his rental car in the street behind a painter's van. The day was sharply blue, with a lot of ice-sparkle in the leafless trees. The snow had moved west.\n\nThe gate of the parking drive was opening for a Volvo wagon. He went in that way and around to the parking lot, found the Cadillac Escalade in its assigned space. Apartment 4-C.\n\nThere were four apartments on the fourth floor, two at each end of a wide well-lit marble-floored hallway. There was a skylight above the central foyer: elevator on one side, staircase on the other.\n\nThe painter or painters had been working on the floor, but the scaffold that had been erected to make it easier to get at the fifteen-foot-high tray ceiling was unoccupied. On the scaffold a five-gallon can of paint was overturned. A pool of it like melted pistachio ice cream was spreading along the marble floor. The can still dripped.\n\nPete looked from the spilled paint to the door of 4-C, which stood open a couple of feet. There was a TV on inside, loudly showing a rerun of Hollywood Squares.\n\nHe walked to the door and looked in. An egg-crate set filled with decommissioned celebrities was on the LCD television screen at one end of a long living room. He edged the door half open. A man wearing a painter's cap occupied a recliner twenty feet from the TV. All Peter could see of him was the cap, and one hand gripping an arm of the chair as if he were about to be catapulted into space.\n\nPeter rapped softly and spoke to him but the man didn't look around. There was a lull in the hilarity on TV as they went to commercial. He could hear the man breathing. Shallow, distressed breaths. Pete walked in and across the short hall, to the living room. Plantation-style shutters were closed. Only a couple of low-wattage bulbs glowed in widely separated wall sconces. All of the apartment was quite dark in contrast to the brilliant day outside.\n\n\"I'm looking for Silkie,\" he said to the man. \"She's staying here, isn't she?\"\n\nNo response. Peter paused a few feet to the left of the man in the leather recliner. His feet were up. His paint-stained coveralls had the look of impressionistic masterpieces. By TV light his jowly face looked sweaty. His chest rose and fell as he tried to drag more air into his lungs.\n\n\"You okay?\"\n\nThe man rolled his eyes at Peter. The fingers of his left hand had left raw scratch marks all over the red leather armrest. His other hand was nearly buried in the pulpy mass above his belt. Pete smelled the blood.\n\n\"She\u2014made me do it\u2014talk to the lady\u2014get her to\u2014unlock the door. Help me. Can't move. Guts are\u2014falling out. My daughter's coming home\u2014for the holidays. Now I won't be here.\"\n\nPeter's gun was in his hand before the man had said ten words. \"Where are they?\"\n\nThe painter had run out of time. He sagged a little as his life ebbed away. His eyes remained open. There was a burst of laughter from the TV.\n\n\"Jesus and Mary,\" Pete whispered, then raised his voice to a shout. \"Silkie, you okay? It's the police!\"\n\nWith his other hand he dug out his cell phone, dialed without looking, identified himself.\n\n\"Do you want police, fire, or medical emergency?\"\n\n\"Cops. Paramedics. I've got a dying man here.\"\n\nHe began his sweep of the apartment while he was still on the phone.\n\n\"Please stay on the line, Detective,\" the dispatcher said. \"Help is on the way.\"\n\n\"I may need both hands,\" Peter said, and dropped the cell phone back into his pocket.\n\nHe kicked open a door to what appeared to be the architect's study and workroom. Enough light coming in here to show him at a glance the room was empty.\n\n\"Silkie!\"\n\nThe master bed- and sitting room was at the end of the hall. Double doors, one standing open. As he approached along one wall, Glock held high in both hands, he made out the shapes of furnishings because of a bathroom light shining beyond a four-poster bed draped with a gauzelike material.\n\nFurniture was overturned in the sitting room. A fish tank had been shattered.\n\nPete edged around the foot of the Victorian bedstead and had a partial view of a seminude body facedown on the tiles. Black girl. There was broken glass from a mirror and a ribbon of blood.\n\n\"Silkie, answer me, what happened here?\"\n\nHe was almost to the bathroom door when Silkie stirred, looked around blank-eyed, then tried to push herself up with both hands as she flooded with terror. Blood dripped from a long cut that started below her right eye and ran almost to the jawline.\n\n\"Is she gone?\" Silkie gasped.\n\nPeter read the shock in her widening eyes but was a split second late turning as Taja came off the bed, where she'd been lying amid a pile of pillows he hadn't paid enough attention to, and slashed at him with her stiletto.\n\nHe turned his wrist just enough so veins weren't severed but he lost his automatic. He backhanded her in the face with his other hand. Taja went down in a sprawl that she corrected almost instantly, cat-quick, and rushed him again with her knife ready to thrust, held close to her side. Her face looked as wooden as a ceremonial mask. She knew her business. He blocked an attempt she made to slash upward near his groin and across the femoral artery. She knew where he was most vulnerable and didn't try for the chest, where her blade could get hung up on the zipper of his leather jacket, or his throat, which was partially protected by a scarf. And Taja was in no hurry: she was between him and his only way out. Acrobatic in her moves, she feinted him in the direction she wanted him to go\u2014which was back against the bed and into the mass of sheer drapery hanging there.\n\nPete heard Silkie scream but he was too busy to pay attention to her. The bed drapery clung to him like spiderweb as he struggled to free himself and avoid Taja. She slashed away methodically, the material beginning to glow red from his blood.\n\nHis gun fired. Deafening.\n\nTaja flinched momentarily, then went into a crouch, turning away from Peter, finding Silkie. She was standing just inside the bathroom, Peter's Glock 9 in both hands.\n\n\"Bitch.\" She fired again, range about eight feet. Taja jerked to one side. hesitated a second, glanced at Peter, who had fought his way out of the drapery. Then she sprang to the bedroom doors and vanished.\n\nPete slipped a hand inside his jacket where his side stung from a long caress of Taja's stiletto. A lot of blood on the hand when he looked at it. Holy Jesus. He looked at Silkie, who hadn't budged from the threshold of the bathroom nor lowered his gun. When he moved toward her she gave him a deeply suspicious look. She was nude to well below her navel. Blood dripped from her chin. She had beautifully modeled features even Echo might have envied. Pete coughed, waited suspensefully, but no blood had come up. He saw that the cut on Silkie's face could've been a lot worse, the flesh laid open. Part of it was just a scratch down across the cheekbone. A little deeper in the soft flesh near her mouth.\n\nHe had to pry his gun from Silkie's hands. His own hands were so bloody he nearly dropped the Glock. He no longer considered going after Taja. Shock had him by the back of the neck. He heard sirens before a rising teakettle hiss in his ears shut out the sound. His face dripped perspiration, but his skin was turning cold. He had to lean against the jamb, his face a few inches from the tall girl's breasts. My God but they were something.\n\n\"What's your name?\" he asked Silkie.\n\nShe had the hiccups. \"Ma-MacKENzie.\"\n\n\"I'm Peter. Peter O'Neill. We're old friends, Silkie. We dated in New York. I came up here for a visit. Can you remember that?\"\n\n\"Y-yes. P-P-PETEr O'Neill. From New York.\"\n\n\"And you don't know who attacked you. Never saw her before. Got that?\"\n\nHe looked her in the eye, wondering if they had a chance in hell of selling it. She looked back at him with a slight twitch of her head.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because Valerie Angelus is dead and you came close and that, that he does not get away with, don't care how much money. I want John Ransome. Want his ass all to myself until I'm ready to hand him over.\"\n\n\"But Taja\u2014\"\n\n\"Taja's just been doing the devil's work. That's what I believe now. Help me, Silkie.\"\n\nShe touched a finger to her chin, wiped a drop of blood away. The wound had nearly stopped oozing.\n\n\"All right,\" she said, beginning to cry. \"How bad am I?\"\n\n\"Cut's not deep. You'll always be beautiful. Listen. Hear that? Medics. On the way up. Now I need to\u2014\" He began to slide to the floor at her feet. Shuddering. His tongue getting a little thick in his mouth. \"Sit down before I uh pass out. Silkie, put something on. Now listen to me. Way you talk to cops is, keep it simple. Say it the same way every time. 'We met at a party. He's only a friend.' No details. It's details that trip you up if you're lying.\"\n\n\"You are\u2014a friend,\" she said, kneeling, putting an arm around him for a few moments. Then she stood and reached for a robe hanging up behind the bathroom door.\n\n\"We'll get him, Silkie. You'll never be hurt again. Promise.\" Finding it hard to breathe now. He made himself smile at her. \"We'll get the bastard.\"\n\nWhen Echo woke up half the day was gone. So was John Ransome, from her bed.\n\nShe looked for him first in his own room. He'd been there, changed his clothes. She found Ciera in Ransome's study, straightening up after what appeared to have been a donnybrook. A lamp was broken. Dented metal shade; had Taja hit him with it? Ciera stared at Echo and shook her head worriedly.\n\n\"Do you know where John is?\"\n\n\"No,\" Ciera said, talkative as ever.\n\nThe day had started clear but very cold; now thick clouds were moving in and the seas looked wild as Echo struggled to keep her balance on the long path to the lighthouse studio.\n\nThe shutters inside the studio were closed. Looking up as she drew closer, Echo couldn't tell if Ransome was up there.\n\nShe skipped the circular stairs and took the cabinet-size birdcage elevator that rose through a shaft of opaque glass to the studio seventy-five feet above ground level.\n\nInside some lights were on. John Ransome was leaning over his worktable, knotting twine on a wrapped canvas. Echo glanced at her portrait that remained unfinished on the large easel. How serene she looked. In contrast to the turmoil she was feeling now.\n\nHe'd heard the elevator. Knew she was there.\n\n\"John.\"\n\nWhen he looked back he winced at the pain even that slow movement of his head caused him. The goose egg, what she could see of it, was a shocking violet color. She recognized raw anger in conjunction with his pain, although he didn't seem to be angry at her.\n\n\"Are you all right? Why didn't you wake me up?\"\n\n\"You needed your sleep, Mary Catherine.\"\n\"What are you doing?\" The teakettle on the hot plate had begun to wheeze. She took it off, looking at him, and prepared tea for both of them.\n\n\"Tying up some loose ends,\" he said. He cut twine with a pair of scissors. Then his hand lashed out as if the stifled anger had found a vent; a tall metal container of brushes was swept off his worktable. She couldn't be sure he'd done it on purpose. His movements were haphazard, they mimicked drunkenness although she saw no evidence in the studio that he'd been drinking.\n\n\"John, why don't you\u2014I've made tea\u2014\"\n\n\"No, I have to get this down to the dock, make sure it's on the late boat.\"\n\n\"All right. But there's time, and I could do that for you.\"\n\nHe backed into his stool, sat down uneasily. She put his tea within reach, then stooped to gather up the scattered brushes.\n\n\"Don't do that!\" he said. \"Don't pick up after me.\"\n\nShe straightened, a few brushes in hand, and looked at him, lower lip folded between her teeth.\n\n\"I'm afraid,\" he said tautly, \"that I've reached the point of diminished returns. I won't be painting any more.\"\n\n\"We haven't finished!\"\n\n\"And I want you to leave the island. Be on that boat too, Mary Catherine.\"\n\n\"Why? What have I\u2014you can't mean that, John!\"\n\nHe glanced at her with an intake hiss of breath that scared her. His eyes looked feverish. \"Exactly that. Leave. For your safety.\"\n\n\"My\u2014? What has Taja done? Why were you fighting with her last night? Why are you afraid of her?\"\n\n\"Done? Why, she's spent the past few years hunting seven beautiful women after I had finished painting them.\"\n\n\"Hunting\u2014?\"\n\n\"Then she slashed, burned, maimed\u2014killed, for all I know! And always she returned to me after the hunt, silently gloating. Now she's out there again, searching for Silkie MacKenzie.\"\n\n\"Dear God. Why?\"\n\n\"Don't you understand? To make them pay, for all they've meant to me.\"\n\nEcho had the odd feeling that she wasn't fully awake after all, that she just wanted to sink to the floor, curl up and go back to sleep. She couldn't look at his face another moment. She went hesitantly to a curved window, opened the shutters there and rested her cheek on insulated safety glass that could withstand hurricane winds. She stared at the brute pounding of the sea below, feeling the force of the waves in the shiver of glass, repeating the surge of her own heartbeats.\n\n\"How long have you known?\"\n\n\"More than two years ago I became suspicious of what she might be doing during prolonged absences. I hired the Blackwelder Organization to investigate. What they came up with was horrifying, but still circumstantial.\"\n\n\"Did you really want proof?\" Echo cried.\n\n\"Of course I did! And last night I finally received it, an e-mail from Australia. Where one of my former models\u2014\"\n\n\"Another victim?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Ransome said, his head down. \"Her name is Aurora Leigh. She'd been in seclusion. But she was in adequate shape emotionally to identify Taja as her attacker from sketches I provided.\"\n\n\"Adequate shape emotionally,\" Echo repeated numbly. \"Why did Taja hit you last night?\"\n\n\"I confronted her with what I knew.\"\n\n\"Was she trying to kill you?\"\n\n\"No. I don't think so. Just letting me know her business isn't finished yet.\"\n\n\"Oh Jesus and Mary! The police\u2014did you call\u2014\"\n\n\"I called my lawyers this morning. They'll handle it. Taja will be stopped.\"\n\n\"But what if Taja's still here? You'll need\u2014\"\n\n\"Her boat's gone. She's not on the island.\"\n\n\"There are dozens of islands where she could be hiding!\"\n\n\"I can take care of myself.\"\n\n\"Oh, sure,\" Echo said, bouncing the heel of her hand off her forehead as she began to pace.\n\n\"Don't be frightened. Just go back to New York. If there's even a remote possibility Taja will be free long enough to return to Kincairn\u2014well then, Taja is, she's always been, my responsibility.\"\n\nEcho paused, stared, caught her breath, alarmed by something ominous hanging around behind his words. \"Why do you say that? You didn't make her what she is. That must have happened long before you met her, where\u2014?\"\n\n\"In Budapest.\"\n\n\"Doing what, mugging tourists?\"\n\n\"When I first saw Taja,\" he said, his voice laboring, \"she was drawing with chalk on the paving stones near the Karoly Krt gate. For what little money passersby were willing to throw her way.\" He raised his head slowly. \"I don't know how old she was then; I don't know her age now. As I told you once, terrible things had been done to her. She was barefoot, her hair wild, her dress shabby.\" He smiled faintly at Echo. His lips were nearly bloodless. \"Yes, I should have walked on by. But I was astounded by her talent. She drew wonderful, suffering, religious faces. They burned with fevers, the hungers of martyrdom. All of the faces washing away each time it rained, or scuffed underfoot by the heedless. But every day she would draw them again. Her knees, her elbows were scabbed. For hours she barely paused to look up from her work. Yet she knew I was there. And after a while it was my face she sought, my approval. Then, late one afternoon when it didn't rain, I\u2014I followed her. Sensing that she was dangerous. But I've never wanted a tame affair. It's immolation I always seem to be after.\"\n\nHis smile showed a slightly crooked eye tooth Echo was more or less enamored with, a sly imperfection.\n\n\"Just how dangerous she was at that time became a matter of no great importance. You see, we may all be dangerous, Mary Catherine, depending on what is done to us.\"\n\n\"Oh, was the sex that good?\" Echo said harshly, her face flaming.\n\n\"Sometimes sex isn't the necessary thing, depending on the nature of one's obsession.\"\n\nEcho began, furiously, to sob. She turned again to the horizon, the darkening sea.\n\nAfter a couple of minutes he said, \"Mary Catherine\u2014\"\n\n\"You know I'm not going! I won't let you give up painting because of what Taja did! You're not going to send me away, John, you need me!\"\n\n\"It's not in your power to get me to paint again.\"\n\n\"Oh, isn't it?\" She wiped her leaky nose on the sleeve of her fisherman's sweater; hadn't done that in quite a few years. Then she pulled off the sweater, gave her head a shake, swirling her abundant hair. Ransome smiled cautiously when she looked at him again, began to stare him down. A look as old, as eternal as the sea below.\n\n\"We have to complete what we've started,\" Echo said reasonably. She moved closer to him, the better for him to see the fierceness of eye, the high flame of her own obsession. She swept a hand in the direction of her portrait on his easel. \"Look, John. And look again! I'm not just a face on a sidewalk. I matter!\"\n\nShe seized and kissed him, knowing that the pain in his sore head made it not particularly enjoyable; but that wasn't her reason just then for doing it.\n\n\"Okay?\" she said mildly and took a step back, clasping hands at her waist. The pupil. The teacher. Who was who awaited clarification, perhaps the tumult and desperation of an affair now investing the air they breathed with the power of a blood oath.\n\n\"Oh, Mary Catherine\u2014\" he said despairingly.\n\n\"I asked you, is it okay? Do we go on from here? Where? When? What do we do now, John?\"\n\nHe sighed, nodded slightly. That hurt too. He put a hand lightly to the bump on his head.\n\n\"You're a tough, wonderful kid. Your heart... is just so different than mine. That's what makes you valuable to me, Mary Catherine.\" He gravely touched her shoulder, tapping it twice, dropped his hand. \"And now you've been warned.\"\n\nShe liked the touch, ignored his warning. \"Shall I pick up the rest of those brushes that were spilled?\"\n\nAfter a long silence Ransome said, \"I've always found salvation in my work. As you must know. I wonder, could that be why your god sent you to me?\"\n\n\"We'll find out,\" Echo said.\n\nPeter heard one of the detectives ask, \"How close did she come to his liver?\"\n\nA woman, probably the ER doc who had been stitching him up, replied, \"Too close to measure.\"\n\nThe other detective on the team, who had the flattened Southie nasal tone, said, \"Irish luck. Okay if we talk to him now?\"\n\n\"He's awake. The Demerol has him groggy.\"\n\nThey came into Peter's cubicle. The older detective, probably nudging retirement, had a paunch and an archaic crook of a nose like an old Roman in marble. The young one, but not that young\u2014close to forty, Peter guessed\u2014had red hair in cheerful disarray and hard-ass good looks the women probably went for like a guilty pleasure. Cynicism was a fixture in his face, like the indentations from long-ago acne.\n\nHe grinned at Peter. \"How you doin', you lucky baastud?\"\n\n\"Okay, I guess.\"\n\n\"Frank Tillery, Cambridge PD. This here is my Fathah Superior, Sal Tranca.\"\n\n\"Hiya.\"\n\n\"Hiya.\"\n\nPeter wasn't taken in by their show of camaraderie. They didn't like what they had seen in the architect's apartment and they didn't like what they'd heard so far from Silkie. They didn't like him, either.\n\n\"Find the perp yet?\" he said, taking the initiative.\n\nSal said, \"Hasn't turned up. Found her blade in a can of paint. Seven inches, thin, what they call a stiletto in the old country.\"\n\nTillery leaned against a wall with folded arms and a lemon twist of a grin and said, \"Pete, you mind tellin' us why you was trackin' a homicidal maniac in our town without so much as a courtesy call to us?\"\n\n\"I'm not on the job. I was\u2014looking for Silkie MacKenzie. Walked right into the play.\"\n\n\"What did you want with MacKenzie? I mean, if I'm not bein' too subtle here.\"\n\n\"Met her\u2014in New York.\" His ribs were taped, and it was hard for him to breathe. \"Like I told you at the scene, had some time off so I thought I'd look her up.\"\n\n\"Apparently she was already shacked up with one guy, owns the apartment,\" Sal said. \"Airline ticket in your coat pocket tells us you flew in from Houston yesterday morning.\"\n\nPeter said, \"I got friends all over. On vacation, just hangin' out.\"\n\n\"Hell of a note,\" Tillery said. \"Lookin' to chill, relax with some good-lookin' pussy, next thing you know you're in Mass General with eighty-four stitches.\"\n\n\"She was real good with that, what'a'ya call it, stiletto?\"\n\nSal said, \"So, Pete. Want to do your statement now, or later we come around after your nap? As a courtesy to a fellow shield. Who seems to be goddamn well connected where he comes from.\" Sal looked around as if for a place to spit.\n\n\"I'll come to you. How's Silkie?\"\n\n\"Plastic surgeon looked at her already. There's gonna be some scarring they can clean up easy.\"\n\n\"She say she knew the perp?\"\n\nTillery and Tranca exchanged jaundiced glances. \"About as well as you did,\" Sal said.\n\n\"Well, you enjoy that dark meat,\" Tillery said. He was on the way out when something occurred to him to ask. He turned to Peter with his cynical grin.\n\n\"How long you had your gold, Pete?\"\n\n\"Nine months.\"\n\n\"Hey, congrats. Sal here, he's got twenty-one years on the job. Me, I got eleven.\"\n\n\"Yeah?\" Peter said, closing his eyes.\n\n\"What Frank is gettin' at,\" Sal said dourly, \"we can smell a crock of shit when it's right under our noses.\"\n\nFOURTEEN\n\nEcho was putting her clothes back on inside the privacy cubicle in John Ransome's studio when she heard the door close, heard him locking her in.\n\n\"John!\"\n\nThe door was thick tempered glass. He looked back at her tiredly as she emerged holding the sweater to her bare breasts and tugged at the door handle, not believing this.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" he said. His voice was muffled by the thickness of the door. \"When it's done\u2014if it's done tonight\u2014I'll be back for you.\"\n\n\"No! Let me out now!\"\n\nHe shook his head slightly, then clattered down the iron staircase like a man in search of a nervous breakdown while Echo battled the door; still unwilling to believe that she was locked up until Ransome decided otherwise.\n\nShe glanced at the nude study he had begun, only a free-flowing sketch at this point but unmistakably Echo. She then demonstrated, at the top of her voice, how many obscene street oaths she'd picked up over the years.\n\nBut the harsh wind off a tumbled sea that caused her glass jail to shimmy on its high perch wailed louder than she could hope to.\n\nPeter woke up with a start when Silkie MacKenzie put a hand on his shoulder. He felt sharp pain, then nausea before he could focus on her.\n\n\"Hello, Peter. It's Silkie.\"\n\nHe swallowed his distress, attempted a smile. The right side of her face was neatly bandaged. \"How you doin'?\"\n\n\"I'll be all right.\"\n\n\"What time is it, Silkie?\"\n\nShe looked at her gold Piaget. \"Twenty past three.\"\n\n\"Oh, Jesus.\" He licked dry lips. There was an IV hookup in the back of his left hand for fluids and antibiotics. But his mouth was parched. With his heavily wrapped right hand\u2014how many times had Taja cut him?\u2014he motioned for Silkie to lean her face close to his. \"Talk to you,\" he whispered. \"Not here. They may have left a device. Couldn't watch both of them all the time.\"\n\n\"Isn't that illegal?\"\n\n\"Wouldn't be admissable in a courtroom. But they don't trust either of us, so they could be fishing\u2014for an angle to use during an interrogation. Walk me to the bathroom.\"\n\nShe got him out of bed and supported him, rolling the IV pole with her other hand. He had Silkie come inside the bathroom with him. All the fluids they'd dripped into Peter had him desperate to pee. Silkie continued to hold his elbow for support and looked at a wall.\n\n\"Today wasn't the first time Taja came after you,\" Pete said.\n\n\"No. Five months ago I was in Los Angeles. I had a commercial, the first work my agent was able to get for me after I'd finished my assignment with John. But John didn't want me working, you see. My face all over telly. That would have destroyed the\u2014the allure, the fascination, the mystery he works so hard to create and maintain.\"\n\n\"So keep the paintings, destroy the model. I've seen Anne Van Lier and Eileen Wendkos.\"\n\nSilkie looked around at him; she was close enough for Peter to feel the tremor that ran through her body.\n\n\"Then I had a glimpse of Taja, at a restaurant opposite Sunset Plaza. She pretended not to notice me. But I\u2014all of my life I've had premonitions. There was suddenly the darkest, angriest cloud I'd ever seen pressing down on Sunset Boulevard. So I ran for my life. Later I hired private detectives. I was very curious to know what had happened to my\u2014my predecessors? I found out, as you did. And once I talked to Valerie, I understood what my sixth sense had always told me about John. I believe he may be insane.\"\n\n\"We have to get out of here. Now. I have a rental car if Cambridge PD didn't impound it. But I'm not sure how much driving I can do.\" He bumped her as he turned in their small space; weakness followed pain, and it worried him. \"Silkie, help me pull this IV out of my hand, then bring the rest of my clothes to me.\"\n\n\"Where are we going?\"\n\n\"The nearest airport to Kincairn Island is in Bangor, Maine.\"\n\n\"I don't think the weather is good up there.\"\n\n\"Then the sooner we leave, the better. Get my wallet and watch from the lockbox. Use my credit card to reserve two seats on the next flight Boston to Bangor.\"\n\n\"I'm not so sure I want to do that. I mean, go back there. I'm afraid, Peter.\"\n\n\"Please, Silkie! You gotta help me. My girl's on that island with that sick son of a bitch Ransome!\"\n\nThe owner and chief pilot of Lola's Flying Service at Bangor airport was going over accounts in her office when Peter and Silkie walked in at ten minutes to eight. Snow particles were flying outside the hangar, and they had felt sharp enough to etch glass.\n\nLola was a large cockeyed jalopy of a woman, salty as Lot's wife. Peter explained his needs.\n\n\"Chopper the two a ya's down to Kincairn in this freakin' weather? Not if I hope to achieve my average life expectancy.\"\n\nPeter produced his shield. Lola greeted that show of authority with a lopsided smile.\n\n\"I'm Born Again, honeybunch; and I surely would hate to miss the Rapture. Otherwise what's Born Again good for?\"\n\nSilkie said, \"Please listen to me. We must get there. Something very bad is going to happen on the island tonight. I have a premonition.\"\n\nLola, looking vastly amused, said, \"Bullshit.\"\n\n\"Her premonitions are very accurate,\" Peter said.\n\nLola looked them over again. The bandages and bruises.\n\n\"I had my tea leaves read once. They said I shouldn't get involved with people who show up looking like the losers in a domestic disturbance competition.\" She picked up the remains of a ham on whole wheat from a takeout carton and polished it off in two bites.\n\nSilkie patiently opened her tote and took out a very large roll of bills, half of which, she made it plain to Lola, were hundreds.\n\n\"On the other hand,\" Lola said, \"you have any premonitions about what this little jaunt is gonna cost you?\"\n\n\"Name your price,\" Silkie said calmly, and she began laying C-notes in the carton on top of a wilted lettuce leaf.\n\nEcho's immediate needs were met by a chemical toilet; a small refrigerator that contained milk, a wedge of Jarlsburg, bottled water and white wine; and an electric heater that dispelled the worst of the cold after sundown. There was also a large sheepskin throw to wrap up in while she rocked herself in the only chair in John Ransome's studio. Physically she was fine. She had drunk the rest of an already-opened bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, ordinarily enough wine to put her soundly to sleep. But the wind that was hitting forty knots according to the gauge outside and her circumstances kept her alert and sober, with an aching heart and a sense of impending tragedy.\n\nIf it's done tonight, Ransome had said forebodingly. What did he know about Taja, and what was he planning?\n\nEvery few minutes, between decades of the rosary that went everywhere with her, Echo jumped up restlessly to pace the inner circumference of the studio, then stopped to peer through the shutters in the direction of the stone house three hundred yards away. She could make out only blurred lights through horizontal lashings of snow. She'd seen nothing of Ransome since his head had disappeared down the circular lighthouse stairs. She hadn't seen anyone except Ciera, who had left the house early, perhaps dismissed by Ransome. In twilight, on her way across the island, Ciera's path had brought her within two hundred feet of the Kincairn light. Echo had pounded on the glass, screamed at her, but Ciera never looked up.\n\nShe'd turned off the studio lights. After the wine she had a lingering headache, more from stress than from drinking. The light hurt her eyes and made it more difficult to see anything outside. At full dark she relied on the glow from the heater and the red warning strobe atop the studio for illumination.\n\nWhen she tired of walking in circles and trying to see through the fulminating storm, she slumped in the rocking chair with her feet tucked under her. She was past sulking, brooding, and prayer. It was time to get tough with herself. You have a little problem, Mary C. ? Solve it.\n\nThat was when the pulse of the strobe overhead gave her an idea of how to begin.\n\nOn the way down from Bangor in the three-passenger Eurocopter that had become surplus when Manuel Noriega fell out of favor with the CIA, Peter had plenty of time to reflect on the reasons why he'd never taken up flying as a hobby.\n\nIt was a strange night, clearing up in places on the coast but still with force eight winds. The sea from twelve hundred feet was visible to the horizon; beneath them it was a scumble of whitecaps going every which way. The sky overhead was tarnished silver in the light from the moon. Lola, dealing with the complexities of flying through the gauntlet of a gale that had the chopper rattling and vibrating, looked unperturbed, confident of her skills, although she was having a hard chew on the wad of grape-flavored gum in her right cheek.\n\n\"Should've calmed down some by now,\" she groused. \"That's why we waited.\"\n\nSilkie had become sick to her stomach two minutes after they lifted off at twelve-thirty in the morning, and she'd stayed sick and moaning all the way. Peter, whose father and uncles had always owned boats, was a competent sailor himself and used to rough weather, although this was something special even for him. The knife wounds Taja had inflicted were throbbing; at each jolt they took he hoped the stitches would hold.\n\nLola and Peter wore headphones. Silkie had taken hers off to get a better grip on her head with both hands.\n\n\"Where are we now?\" Peter asked Lola.\n\n\"Over Blue Hill Bay. See that light down to our left?\"\n\n\"Uh-huh,\" he said, his teeth clicking together.\n\n\"That's Bass Harbor head. Uh-oh. That's a Coast Guard cutter down there, steaming southwest. Somebody's got trouble. Take a dip in those waters tonight, you've got about twelve minutes. Okay, southwest is where we're heading now; right two-four-zero and closer to the deck. It's gonna get rougher, kids.\"\n\nPeter checked the action of the old Colt Pocket Nine he'd borrowed from his Uncle Charlie in Brookline before heading up to Maine. Then he looked at islands appearing below. A lot of islands, some just specks on the IR.\n\n\"How are you going to find\u2014\"\n\n\"I know Kincairn by its light. Problem is, I don't think anyone's tried to land a helicopter there. Not a level spot on the island. Wind shear around a rock pile like Kincairn, conditions are just about perfect for an SOL funeral.\"\n\n\"SOL?\" Silkie said. She'd put her headphones back on.\n\n\"Shit outa luck,\" Lola said, and laughed uproariously.\n\nFrom a window of his study John Ransome observed through binoculars the lights in the studio flashing. A familiar sequence. Morse code distress signal. Mary Catherine's ingenuity made him smile. Of course he wouldn't have expected less of her. She was the last and the best of the Ransome women.\n\nWhen he looked at the base of the Kincairn light, then down the road to the town, he saw one of the two Land Rovers he kept on the island coming up from the cove. When it stopped near the lighthouse, he wasn't surprised to see Taja get out.\n\nMary Catherine's face appeared behind salt-bleared glass, then vanished quickly, as if she'd seen Taja.\n\nWhen the Woman in Black started toward the lighthouse, she walked slowly and stiffly, head lowered against the blasts of wind. She held her right side as if she'd been thrown around and injured while bringing the boat in through rough seas. Watching her, Ransome felt neither pity not regret. She was just a blight on his soul, as he had tried to explain to Mary Catherine. The time had come to remove it.\n\nHe put the binoculars down on his desk and unlocked a drawer. He kept an S&W police model .38 there. Hadn't fired the revolver in years but the bore was clean when he checked it.\n\nAfterward a couple of phone calls and everything would be taken care of for him. As it always was. No messy publicity.\n\nHe felt deep empathy for Mary Catherine. It was unfortunate she had to be a part of the cleansing. But he would take care of her afterward, as he had all of the Ransome women. He had never used his genius as an excuse for poor behavior. When her own god failed her\u2014as He would tonight\u2014John Ransome would provide.\n\nHe was putting on his coat when he heard, above the wind, a helicopter fly low over the house.\n\n\"Peter, it's Taja!\" Silkie yelled.\n\nHe saw the Woman in Black, looking up at the helicopter a hundred yards away. She had opened the door at the base of the lighthouse.\n\nThe studio lights were blinking again. Then Echo rushed to the windows, frantically signaling the helicopter.\n\n\"Who is that?\" Silkie said.\n\n\"It's Echo,\" Peter said happily. Then, as Taja entered the lighthouse his momentary elation vanished. \"Put us down!\" he said to Lola.\n\n\"Not here! Maybe in the cove, on the dock!\"\n\n\"How far's that?\"\n\n\"Three miles south, I think.\"\n\n\"No! Can you drop me off here? Next to the lighthouse?\"\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Silkie asked anxiously.\n\n\"I can't maintain a hover more than three-four seconds,\" Lola advised him. \"And not closer than ten feet off the ground!\"\n\n\"Close enough!\" Peter said. \"Silkie! Go back with Lola. There's an APB out on Taja. Call the state cops, tell them she's on Kincairn!\"\n\nHe opened the door on his side, looked at the rocks below in the undercarriage floodlight. The danger of it chilled him more than the wind in his face. If he landed wrong, a ten-foot jump onto frozen stony ground was going to feel like fifty.\n\nIn John Ransome's studio, Echo saw Taja get off the small elevator outside. They looked at each other for a few moments until Echo turned to the windows, seeing the helicopter fly away.\n\nWhen she turned again Taja had unlocked the glass door and walked inside.\n\nWith the door open Echo's only thought was to get the hell out of there. But she couldn't get past Taja, who was quick and strong. An image of the PR boy in the subway repeated in Echo's mind as she was caught by one arm and pushed back. All the way to the easel that still held Ransome's beginning nude study of her. The portrait seemed to distract Taja as Echo struggled in her grip, swearing, swinging a wild left hand at the Woman in Black.\n\nTaja's free hand came away from her side. The glove was sticky with blood. She groped behind her on the worktable. Her fingers closed on the handle of the knife that Ransome honed daily before trimming his brushes.\n\nAnd Echo screamed.\n\nPeter was halfway up the circular iron stairs, hobbling on a sprained ankle, when he heard the scream. Knew what it meant. But he was too slow and far from Echo to do her any good.\n\nTaja struck once at Echo, slashing her across the heel of the hand Echo flung up to protect her face.\n\nThen, instead of a lethal follow-up, Taja took the time to drive the knife into the canvas on the easel, ripping it in a gesture of fury.\n\nTaja's body was momentarily at an angle to Echo, and vulnerable. Echo braced herself against the worktable and drove a knee high to the rib cage where Silkie had shot her in the Cambridge apartment.\n\nTaja went down with a hoarse scream, dropped the knife. She was groping for it when Peter barreled into the studio and lunged at her.\n\n\"No, goddamn it, no!\"\n\nHe grabbed her knife hand as she tried to come up off the floor at him. His free hand went to Taja's face, street-fighter style. He missed her eyes, tried to get a grip as she jerked her head aside.\n\nPart of her flesh seemed to come loose in his hand. But it was only latex.\n\nThe face beneath her second skin was pocked with random, circular scars, as if from a dozen cigarette burns.\n\nThey were both hurt but Peter couldn't hold her. He knew the knife was coming. Then Echo got an armlock on Taja's neck and pulled her back; Peter stepped in with a short hook to Taja's jaw that dropped her instantly. He wrenched the knife away and pulled her back onto her feet. She wasn't unconscious but her eyes were crossing, no fight left in her.\n\n\"Let her go, Peter,\" John Ransome said behind them. \"It's finished.\"\n\nPeter shot a look behind him. \"Not yet!\" He looked again into Taja's eyes. \"Tell me one thing! Was it Ransome? Did he send you after those women? Tell me!\"\n\n\"Peter, she can't talk!\" Echo said.\n\nTaja still wasn't focusing. There was a trickle of blood at one corner of her mouth.\n\n\"Find a way to talk to me! I want to know!\"\n\n\"Peter,\" John Ransome said, \"please let her go.\" His tone weary. \"It's up to me to deal with Taja. She's my\u2014\"\n\n\"Was it Ransome!\" Peter screamed in Taja's face, as she blinked, stared at him.\n\nShe nodded. Her eyes closed. A second later Ransome shot her. Blood and bits of bone from the hole in her forehead splattered Peter's face. She hung in his grip as Echo screamed. Still holding Taja up, Peter turned to Ransome, speechless with rage.\n\nRansome lowered his .38, taking a deep breath. \"My responsibility. Sorry. Now will you put her down?\"\n\nPeter let Taja fall and went for his own gun, brought it up in both hands inches from Ransome's face.\n\n\"Drop your piece! So help me God I'll cap you right here!\"\n\n\"Peter, no\u2014!\"\n\nRansome took another breath, his gun hand moving slowly toward the worktable, his finger off the trigger. \"It's all right.\" He sounded eerily calm. I'm putting the gun down. Just don't let your emotions get the best of you. No accidents, Peter.\" The .38 was on the table. He lifted his hand slowly away from it, looked at Taja's body between them. Peter moved him at gunpoint back from the table.\n\n\"You're under arrest for murder! You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to be represented by an attorney. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand what I've just said to you?\"\n\nRansome nodded. \"Peter, it was self-defense.\"\n\n\"Shut up, damn you! You don't get away with that!\"\n\n\"You're out of your jurisdiction here. One more thing. I own this island.\"\n\n\"On your knees, hands behind your head.\"\n\n\"I think we need to talk when you're in a more rational\u2014\"\n\nPeter took his finger off the trigger of the 9mm Colt and bounced it off the top of Ransome's head. Ransome staggered and dropped to one knee. He slowly raised his hands.\n\nPeter glanced at Echo, who had pulled the sleeve of her sweater down over the hand that Taja had slashed. She'd made a fist to try to stop the bleeding. She shook from fear.\n\n\"Oh Peter, oh God! What are you going to do?\"\n\n\"You own the island?\" Peter said to Ransome. \"Who cares? This is where we get off.\"\n\nFIFTEEN\n\nThe boat Taja had used getting back and forth was a twenty-eight-foot Rockport-built island cruiser. Peter had John Ransome in the wheelhouse attached to a safety line with his hands lashed together in front of him. Echo was trying to hold the muzzle of the Colt 9mm on him while Peter battled wind gusts up to fifty knots and heavy seas once they left the shelter of Kincairn cove. In addition to the safety lines they all wore life vests. They were bucked all over the place. Peter found he could get only about eighteen knots from the Volvo diesel, and that it was nearly impossible to keep the wind on his stern unless he wanted to sail to Portugal. The wind chill was near zero. They were shipping a lot of water with a temperature of only a few degrees above freezing. The pounding went on without letup. Under reasonably good conditions it was thirty minutes to the mainland. Peter wasn't at all sure he had half an hour before hypothermia rendered him helpless.\n\nJohn Ransome knew it. Watching Peter try to steer with one good hand, seeing Echo shaking with vomit on the front of her life vest, he said, \"We won't make it. Breathe through your nose, Mary Catherine, or you'll freeze your lungs. You know I don't want you to die like this! Talk sense to Peter! Best of times it's like threading a needle through all the little islands. In a blow you can lose your boat on the rocks.\"\n\n\"Peter's s-sailed b-boats all his life!\"\n\nRansome shook his head. \"Not under these conditions.\"\n\nA vicious gust heeled them to port; the bow was buried in a cornering wave. Water cascaded off the back of the overhead as the cruiser righted itself sluggishly.\n\n\"Peter!\"\n\n\"We're okay!\" he yelled, leaning on the helm.\n\nRansome smiled in sympathy with Echo's terror.\n\n\"We're not okay.\" He turned to Peter. \"There is a way out of this dilemma, Peter! If you'd only give me a chance to make things right for all of us! But you must turn back now!\"\n\n\"I told you, I don't have dilemmas! Echo, keep that gun on him!\"\n\nRansome said, his eyes on the shivering girl, \"I don't think Peter knows you as well as I've come to know you, Mary Catherine! You couldn't shoot me. No matter what you think I've done.\"\n\nEcho, her eyes red from salt, raised the muzzle of the Colt unsteadily as she tried to keep from slipping off the bench opposite Ransome.\n\n\"Which one\u2014are you tonight?\" she said bitterly. \"The g-god who creates, or the god who destroys?\"\n\nThey were taking on water faster than the pump could empty the boat. The cruiser wallowed, nearly directionless.\n\n\"Remember the rogue wave, Mary Catherine? You saved me then. Am I worth saving now?\"\n\n\"Don't listen to him!\" Peter rubbed his eyes, trying to focus through the spume on the wheelhouse window. What he saw momentarily and some distance away were the running lights of a large yacht or even a cutter. Because of the cold he had only limited use of his left hand. His wrist had begun bleeding again during his fight with Taja at the lighthouse. With numbed fingers he was able to open a locker in front of him. \"Echo, this guy has fucked up every life he ever touched!\"\n\n\"There's no truth in that! It was Taja, no matter what she wanted you to believe. Her revenge on me. And I was the only one who ever cared about her! Mary Catherine, last night I tried to stop her from going after Silkie MacKenzie! You know what happened. But the story of Taja and myself is not easy to explain. You understand, though, don't you?\"\n\n\"You should have seen what I've seen the last forty-eight hours, Echo! The faces of Ransome's women. Slashed, burned, broken! Two that I know of are dead! Nan McLaren OD'd, Ransome\u2014you hear about that?\"\n\n\"Yes. Poor Nan\u2014but I\u2014\"\n\n\"Last night Valerie Angelus went off the roof of her building! You set her up for that, you son of a bitch!\"\n\nRansome lifted his head.\n\n\"But you could've stopped her. A year, two years ago, it wouldn't have been too late for Valerie! You didn't want her. Don't talk about caring, it makes me sick!\"\n\nRansome lunged off his bench toward Echo and easily took the automatic from her half-frozen hands. He turned toward Peter with it but lost his footing. Peter abandoned the helm, kicked the Colt into the stern of the boat, then pointed a Kilgore flare pistol, loaded with a twenty-thousand-candlepower parachute flare, at Ransome's head.\n\n\"I think the Coast Guard's out there to starboard,\" Peter said. \"If you make a big enough bonfire they'll see it.\"\n\n\"The flare will only destroy my face,\" Ransome said calmly. \"I suppose you would consider that to be justice.\" On his knees, Ransome held up his bound hands suppliantly. \"We could have settled this among ourselves. Now it's too late.\" He looked at Echo. \"Is it too late, Mary Catherine?\"\n\nShe was sitting in a foot of water on the deck, exhausted, just trying to hold on as the boat rolled violently. She looked at him, and looked away. \"Oh God, John.\"\n\nRansome struggled to his feet. \"Take the helm, Peter, or she'll roll over! And the two of you may still have a life together.\"\n\n\"Just shut up, Ransome!\"\n\nHe smiled. \"You're both very young. Some day I hope you will learn that the greater part of wisdom is... forgiveness.\"\n\nHe unclipped his safety line from the vest as the bow of the cruiser rose, letting the motion carry him backwards to the transom railing. Where he threw himself overboard, vanishing into the pitch-dark water.\n\nEcho cried out, a wail of despair, then sobbed. Peter felt nothing other than a cold indifference to the fate the artist had chosen. He raised the flare pistol and fired it, then returned to the helm as the flare shed its light upon the water, bringing nearby islands into jagged relief. A few moments later they heard a siren through the low scream of wind; a searchlight probed the darkness and found them. Peter closed his eyes in the glare and leaned against the helm with Echo laid against his back, arms around him.\n\nBelow decks of the Coast Guard cutter as it returned to the station on Mount Desert Island with the cruiser in tow, a change in pitch in the cutter's engine and a shudder that ran through the vessel caused Echo to wake up in a cocoon of blankets. She jerked violently.\n\n\"Easy,\" Peter said. He was sitting beside her on the sick bay rack, holding her hand.\n\n\"Where are we?\"\n\n\"Coming in, I guess. You okay?\"\n\nShe licked her chapped lips. \"I think so. Peter, are we in trouble?\"\n\n\"No. I mean, there's gonna be a hell of an inquiry. We'll take what comes and say what is. Want coffee?\"\n\n\"No. Just want to sleep.\"\n\n\"Echo, I have to know\u2014\"\n\n\"Can't talk now,\" she protested wanly.\n\n\"Maybe we should. Get it out of the way, you know? Just say what is. Either way, I promise I can deal with it.\"\n\nShe blinked, looked at him with ghostly eyes, raised her other hand to gently touch his face.\n\n\"I posed for him\u2014well, you saw the work Taja took a knife to.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nShe took a deep breath. Peter was like stone.\n\n\"I didn't sleep with him, Peter.\"\n\nAfter a few moments he shrugged. \"Okay.\"\n\n\"But\u2014no\u2014I want to tell you all of it. Peter, I was getting ready to. Another couple of days, a week\u2014it would've happened.\"\n\n\"Oh, Jesus.\"\n\n\"I just needed to be with him. But I didn't love him. It's something I\u2014I don't think I'll ever understand about myself. I'm sorry.\"\n\nPeter shook his head, perplexed, dismayed. She waited tensely for the anger. Instead he put his arms around her.\n\n\"You don't have to be sorry. I know what he was. And I know what I saw\u2014in the eyes of those other women. I don't see it in your eyes.\" He kissed her. \"He's gone. And that's all I care about.\"\n\nA second kiss, and her glum face lost its anxiety, she began to lighten up.\n\n\"I do love you. Infinity.\"\n\n\"Infinity,\" he repeated solemnly. \"Echo?\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I looked at a sublet before I left the city a few days ago. Fully furnished loft in Williamsburg. Probably still available. Fifteen hundred a month. We can move in by Christmas.\"\n\n\"Hey. Fifteen? We can swing that.\" She smiled slightly, teasing. \"Live in sin for a little while, that what you mean?\"\n\n\"Just live,\" he said.\n\nOn a Sunday in mid-April, four weeks before their wedding, Peter and Echo, enjoying each other's company and one of life's minor enchantments, which was to laze with no purpose, heard the elevator in their building start up.\n\n\"Company?\" Peter said. He was watching the Knicks on TV\n\n\"Mom and Julia aren't coming until four,\" Echo said. She was doing tai chi exercises on a floor mat, barefoot, wearing only gym shorts. The weather in Brooklyn was unseasonably warm.\n\n\"Then it's nobody,\" Peter said. \"But maybe you should pull on a top anyhow.\"\n\nHe walked across the painted floor of the loft they shared and watched the elevator rising toward them. In the dimness of the shaft he couldn't make out anyone in the cage.\n\nWhen it stopped he pulled up the gate and looked inside. A wrapped package leaned against one side of the elevator. About three feet by five. Brown paper, tape, twine.\n\n\"Hey, Echo?\"\n\nShe wriggled into a halter top and came over to look. Her lips parted in astonishment.\n\n\"It's a painting. Omigod!\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Get it! Open it!\"\n\nPeter lugged the wrapped painting, which seemed to be framed, to the table in their kitchen. Echo followed with scissors and cut the twine.\n\n\"But it can't be! There's no way\u2014! No, be careful, let me do this!\"\n\nShe removed the thick paper and laid the painting flat on the table.\n\n\"Oh no,\" Peter groaned. \"I don't believe this. He's back.\"\n\nThe painting was John Ransome's self-portrait that had been hanging in the artist's library on Kincairn when Echo had last seen it.\n\nEcho turned it over. On the back Ransome had inscribed, \"Given to Mary Catherine Halloran as a remembrance of our friendship.\" It was signed and dated two days before Ransome's disappearance.\n\nShe turned suddenly, shoving Peter aside, and ran to the loft windows that overlooked a cobbled mews and afforded a partial view of the Brooklyn Bridge, with lower Manhattan beyond.\n\n\"Peterrrr!\"\n\nHe caught up to her, looked over her shoulder and down at the mews. There were kids playing, a couple of women with strollers. And a man in a black topcoat getting into a cab on the corner where the fruit and vegetable stand was doing brisk business. The man had shoulder-length gray hair and wore dark glasses. That was all they could see of him.\n\nPeter looked at Echo as the cab drove away. Touched her shoulder until she focused on him, on the here and now.\n\n\"He drowned, Echo.\"\n\nShe turned with a broad gesture in the direction of the portrait. \"But\u2014\"\n\n\"Maybe his body never turned up, but the water\u2014we nearly froze ourselves on the boat. His hands were tied. Telling you, no way he survived.\"\n\n\"John told me he swam the Hellespont once. The Dardanelles strait. That's at least a couple miles across. And hypothermia\u2014everybody's tolerance of cold is different. Sailors have survived for hours in seas that probably would kill you or me in fifteen minutes.\" She gestured again, excited. \"Peter\u2014who else?\"\n\n\"Maybe it was somebody works for Cy Mellichamp. That slick son of a bitch. Just having his little joke. Listen, I don't want the damn picture in our house. I don't want to be reminded, Echo. How you got shortchanged on your contract. None of it.\" He waited. \"Do you?\"\n\n\"Well\u2014\" She looked around their loft. Shrugged. \"I guess it wouldn't be, uh, appropriate. But obviously\u2014it was meant as a wedding gift.\" She smiled strangely. \"All I did was say how much I admired his self-portrait. John told me all about it. There's quite a story goes with it, which would make the painting especially valuable to a collector. It's unique in the Ransome canon.\"\n\n\"Yeah? How valuable?\"\n\n\"Hard to say. I know a Ransome was knocked down recently at Christie's for just under five million dollars.\"\n\nPeter didn't say anything.\n\n\"The fact that his body hasn't been recovered complicated matters for his estate. But,\" Echo said judiciously, \"as Stefan put it, 'it certainly has done no harm to the value of his art.'\"\n\n\"You want a beer?\"\n\n\"I would love a beer.\"\n\nEcho remained by the windows looking out while Peter went to the refrigerator. While he was popping tops he said, \"So\u2014figure we just put the portrait away in a closet a couple years, then it could be worth a shitload?\"\n\n\"Oh baby,\" Echo replied.\n\n\"Then, also in a couple years,\" Peter said, coming back to her and carefully fitting a can of Heineken into her hand, \"when Ransome's estate gets settled, that cottage in Bedford, which looks like a pretty nice investment, will go on the market?\"\n\n\"Might.\" Echo took a long drink of the beer and began laughing softly, ironically, to herself.\n\n\"All this could depend on, you know, he doesn't turn up.\" Peter looked out the window. \"Again.\"\n\nThe last Ransome woman was silent. Wondering, lost in a private rapture.\n\nPeter said, \"You want to order in Chinese for Rosemay and Julia tonight? I've still got a few bucks left on my MasterCard.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Echo said, and leaned her head on his shoulder. \"Chinese. Sounds good.\"\nNew York Times bestselling author and MWA Grandmaster Ed McBain has gathered ten masters of modern fiction and had them each write a novella for this one-of-a-kind series. Look for more Transgressions featuring new tales from these bestselling authors:\n\nLawrence Block   \nJeffery Deaver   \nJohn Farris   \nStephen King   \nEd McBain   \nSharyn McCrumb   \nWalter Mosley   \nJoyce Carol Oates   \nAnne Perry   \nDonald E. Westlake\nThis is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.\n\nCopyright Acknowledgments\n\n\"The Things They Left Behind,\" copyright \u00a9 2005 by Stephen King   \n\"The Ransome Women,\" copyright \u00a9 2005 by John Farris\n\nTRANSGRESSIONS\n\nCopyright \u00a9 2005 by Hui Corporation\n\nAll rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.\n\nThe novellas collected in this volume and the three companion volumes of Transgressions were previously published in 2005 as a single-volume hardcover edition under the title Transgressions.\n\nA Forge Book   \nPublished by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC   \n175 Fifth Avenue   \nNew York, NY 10010\n\nwww.tor-forge.com\n\nForge\u00ae is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.\n\neISBN 9781429997577\n\nFirst eBook Edition : April 2011\n\nFirst mass market edition: September 2006\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":"\n\nCopyright \u00a9 2013 by Brian Jay Jones\n\nAll rights reserved.\n\nPublished in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, New York, a Penguin Random House Company.\n\nBALLANTINE and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC.\n\nTHE MUPPETS and associated characters, trademarks, and designed elements are owned by Disney Muppet Studios. Copyright \u00a9 Disney. All rights reserved.\n\n\"Sesame Workshop\"\u00ae, \"Sesame Street\"\u00ae and associated characters, trademarks and design elements are owned and licensed by Sesame Workshop.  \n\u00a9 2013 Sesame Workshop. All rights reserved.\n\nGrateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reprint previously published material:\n\n_Alfred Publishing Co., Inc_.: \"Just One Person\" (from the musical _Snoopy_ ), lyrics by Hal Hackady, music by Larry Grossman, copyright \u00a9 1976 (Renewed) Unichappell Music, Inc. All rights reserved.  \nUsed by permission of Alfred Publishing Co., Inc.\n\n_The Joe Raposo Music Group, Inc_.: \"It's Not Easy Bein' Green,\" music and lyrics by Joe Raposo, copyright \u00a9 1970 by Jonico Music, Inc., and copyright renewed \u00a9 1998 by Green Fox Music, Inc. Used by permission of The Joe Raposo Music Group, Inc.\n\nCredits for the photographs that appear at chapter openers can be found on this page.\n\nLIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA  \nJones, Brian Jay.  \nJim Henson : the biography \/ Brian Jay Jones.  \np. cm.  \nIncludes bibliographical references.  \neISBN: 978-0-345-52613-7  \n1. Henson, Jim. 2. Puppeteers\u2014United States\u2014Biography. 3. Television producers and directors\u2014United States\u2014Biography. 4. Muppet Show (Television program)  \n5. Sesame Street (Television program) I. Title.  \nPN1982.H46J66 2013  \n791.4302\u203233092\u2014dc23  \n[B] 2013024039\n\nwww.ballantinebooks.com\n\nv3.1\n\n# CONTENTS\n\n#\n\n_Cover_\n\n_Title Page_\n\n_Copyright_\n\nPROLOGUE **BLUE SKY 1973**\n\nCHAPTER ONE **THE DELTA 1936\u20131949**\n\nCHAPTER TWO **A MEANS TO AN END 1949\u20131955**\n\nCHAPTER THREE **_SAM AND FRIENDS_ 1955\u20131957**\n\nCHAPTER FOUR **MUPPETS, INC. 1957\u20131962**\n\nCHAPTER FIVE **A CRAZY LITTLE BAND 1962\u20131969**\n\nCHAPTER SIX **_SESAME STREET_ 1969\u20131970**\n\nCHAPTER SEVEN **BIG IDEAS 1970\u20131973**\n\nCHAPTER EIGHT **THE MUCKING FUPPETS 1973\u20131975**\n\nCHAPTER NINE **MUPPETMANIA 1975\u20131977**\n\nCHAPTER TEN **LIFE'S LIKE A MOVIE 1977\u20131979**\n\nCHAPTER ELEVEN **THE WORLD IN HIS HEAD 1979\u20131982**\n\nCHAPTER TWELVE **TWISTS AND TURNS 1982\u20131986**\n\nCHAPTER THIRTEEN **STORYTELLER 1986\u20131987**\n\nCHAPTER FOURTEEN **A KIND OF CRAZINESS 1987\u20131989**\n\nCHAPTER FIFTEEN **SO MUCH ON A HANDSHAKE 1989\u20131990**\n\nCHAPTER SIXTEEN **JUST ONE PERSON 1990**\n\nEPILOGUE **LEGACY**\n\n_Photo Insert_\n\n_Dedication_\n\nACKNOWLEDGMENTS\n\nNOTES\n\nSELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n_Photograph Credits_\n\n_Other Books by This Author_\n\n_About the Author_\n\n# **PROLOGUE**\n\n#\n\n# BLUE SKY  \n1973\n\n(photo credit prl.1)\n\nJIM HENSON SLOWLY FOLDED HIMSELF INTO A COUCH INSIDE REEVES Teletape Studio, sliding down, as he often did, until he was nearly horizontal, his shaggy head against the back cushions and his long legs stretched out in front of him. As always, Jim was the calm in the middle of the chaos, sitting quietly as studio technicians and crew members whirled around him, adjusting lights and bustling about the background sets for _Sesame Street_ 's Muppet segments. Jim simply lounged, hands folded across his stomach, fingers laced together. Draped limply across his lap was the green fleece form of Kermit the Frog, staring lifelessly at the floor, mouth agape.\n\nJim and Kermit were waiting.\n\nIn the five years _Sesame Street_ had been on the air, many of its most memorable moments involved children interacting with the Muppets. And while all of the Muppet performers were good with children, most agreed that it was Kermit children believed in and trusted completely\u2014mostly because they completely believed in and trusted Jim Henson. Jim\u2014and therefore Kermit\u2014had a natural sweetness, a reassuring patience, and a willingness to indulge silliness\u2014and the resulting interaction could be pure magic. Even as Jim sat waiting, then, there was, as always, a buzz of anticipation.\n\n_Sesame Street_ director Jon Stone\u2014a warm bear of a man with an easy smile\u2014strolled the set, the end of a chewed pencil sticking out of his salt-and-pepper beard. \"Blue sky!\" he said loudly\u2014a signal that a child was present on the set, a coded reminder that the normally boisterous Muppet performers and crew should watch their language. There was actually little chance of Jim himself swearing\u2014normally his epithets were nothing stronger than \"Oh, for heaven's sake!\"\u2014but with the cue that his young costar, a little girl named Joey, had arrived, Jim slowly unfolded himself and rose to his full six-foot-one height.\n\nCasually, Jim pulled Kermit onto his right arm, slightly parting his thumb from his fingers as he slid his hand into the frog's mouth, then smoothed the long green sleeve from Kermit's body down over his elbow. He brought the frog's face up toward his own, tilting the head slightly\u2014and suddenly, Kermit was magically alive, sizing up Jim with eyes that seemed to widen or narrow as Jim arched or clenched his fingers inside Kermit's head.\n\nWhile _Sesame Street_ 's Muppet sets were usually elevated on stilts some six feet off the floor\u2014making it possible for puppeteers to perform while standing\u2014no child would ever be placed at such a perilous height. Instead, Joey\u2014in a pink striped shirt, with her long blond hair tied at the top of her head\u2014was moved into position on a stool while Jim knelt on the floor next to her. Slowly he raised Kermit up beside her, eying the Muppet's position on a video monitor in front of his crouched knees. Joey's eyes locked immediately on Kermit. The frog was no mere puppet; Kermit was _real_.\n\n\" _Rolleeoleeoleeyo!_ \" called out Stone\u2014and as tape began to roll, Joey was already patting and petting Kermit lovingly.\n\n\"Hey, can you sing the alphabet, Joey?\" asked Kermit.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Joey, nodding earnestly, \"yes, I could.\"\n\n\"Let's hear you sing the alphabet.\"\n\n\" _A B C D_...\" sang Joey, and Jim bopped Kermit along in time to the familiar \"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star\" melody, bouncing the frog's head back and forth. \" _E F,_ \" continued Joey\u2014then instead of G, she substituted \" _Cookie Monster!_ \" and giggled at her own joke.\n\nAll eyes in the studio were on the frog, waiting to see what Jim would do.\n\nJim reacted instantly, arching his long fingers inside Kermit to give him a surprised expression. Then he turned the frog, in a classic slow burn, toward the still-giggling Joey. \"You're not singin' the alphabet!\" Kermit said cheerily, and began the song again. Joey sang along eagerly, this time gliding past the letter G without incident, and stumbling only slightly through the troublesome quintet of _LMNOP_.\n\nJoey patted Kermit lightly, unable to keep her hands off the slightly fuzzy Muppet. \" _Q R Cookie Monster!_ \" she sang, and broke down in another fit of giggles.\n\nJim pressed his thumb and fingers tightly together inside Kermit's head, giving the frog a brief look of mock irritation. Then he arched his hand back upward, returning Kermit's expression to one of mild surprise. Joey tilted her head slightly and giggled directly into Kermit's eyes. She believed in him completely.\n\n\"Cookie Monster isn't a letter of the alphabet!\" said Kermit helpfully. \"It goes, _Q R S_...\"\n\n\" _T U Cookie Monster!_ \" Joey exploded into giggles, clenching her hands in front of her.\n\nFor a moment, Jim nearly broke character. He snickered slightly. \"Yuh-you're just teasing me!\" he finally said in Kermit's voice, and the two of them began singing together again. \" _W X Y and Z_...\"\n\nJoey briefly placed her hand on Kermit's shoulder as they entered the refrain. \" _Now I've sung my ABCs_...\" the two of them sang.\n\n\"... _next time Cookie Monster!_ \" Joey erupted, and broke down in giggles again.\n\n\"Next time, Cookie Monster can do it with you!\" griped Kermit. \"I'm leaving!\" Jim pulled Kermit's face into a mild grimace\u2014and with a groan of exasperation skulked the frog away, out of camera shot.\n\nJoey stared after him. \"I love you,\" she said, matter-of-factly.\n\nJim bounced Kermit eagerly back toward the little girl. \"I love you, too,\" he said warmly.\n\n\"Thanks,\" said Joey.\n\nAnd she draped an arm around Kermit and kissed him on the head.\n\n# **CHAPTER ONE**\n\n#\n\n# THE DELTA  \n1936\u20131949\n\n_James Maury Henson in 1937, at about six months old_. (photo credit 1.1)\n\nDEER CREEK WINDS CASUALLY, ALMOST LAZILY, THROUGH THE MUGGY lowlands in the heart of the Mississippi Delta. Its point of origin\u2014near the little town of Scott, in Bolivar County\u2014lies roughly ninety miles north of its terminal point at the Yazoo River three counties away. But Deer Creek takes its time getting there, looping and whorling back and forth in a two-hundred-mile-long amble, looking like a child's cursive scrawled across the map.\n\nThe town of Leland, Mississippi, straddles Deer Creek just as it twists into one of its first tight hairpin turns, about ten miles east of Greenville. Established before the Civil War, the sleepy settlement, sprawled out across several former plantations, had taken advantage of fertile soil and regular steamboat traffic on Deer Creek to become one of the wealthiest in the Delta region. In the 1880s came the Yazoo and Mississippi Valley Railroad, along with an influx of grocers and landlords and innkeepers\u2014but even with the growing merchant class and increasing gentrification, it was still land that mattered most in Leland, and in the Mississippi Delta. In 1904, then, the state legislature called for the creation of an agricultural experiment station in the Delta region, preferably \"at a point where experiments with the soil of the hills as well as the Delta can be made.\" That point turned out to be two hundred acres of land hugging Deer Creek, in the village of Stoneville, putting the state's new Delta Branch Experiment Station just north of\u2014and practically butted up against\u2014Leland. By 1918, the facility in Stoneville was housing researchers and their families from the U.S. Department of Agriculture, carrying out research on crops, soil, and animal production for the federal government; by 1930, its findings on animal feed and insect control were particularly welcome to planters and sharecroppers doing their best to scratch out a living from the swampy Delta soil during the Great Depression.\n\nPaul Ransom Henson\u2014Jim Henson's father\u2014was neither a planter nor a sharecropper. Nor had he come to the Delta region to work a family farm during the Depression or satisfy a random pang of wanderlust. Paul Henson was a practical man, and he had come to Leland in 1931 with his new wife, Betty, for a practical reason: he had accepted a government post at the Delta Branch Experiment Station in Stoneville.\n\nPaul Henson came from a line of similarly sturdy and clear-minded men who sought neither to offend nor agitate, a trait that Paul's famous son would inherit as well\u2014and, in fact, Jim Henson would always be very proud of his father's rugged, even-tempered Midwestern lineage. On one side of his father's family were the Dolton and Barnes lines\u2014good-natured, nonconfrontational, and accommodating almost to a fault\u2014while on the other were the Hensons\u2014practical, rugged, and imperturbable.\n\nOne of Jim's favorite family stories involved his great-great-grandfather, a strongly pro-Northern farmer named Richmond Dolton who, during the Civil War, had been living in a small Missouri town in which most of the residents were Southern sympathizers. Rather than offend the Confederate sensibilities of his neighbors, the amiable Dolton simply swapped his farm\u2014in a typically equitable and businesslike exchange\u2014for a similar one in a town in Kansas where the residents shared his own Union tendencies. The move would come to be particularly appreciated by Dolton's teenage daughter, Aramentia, though for reasons more prurient than political\u2014for it was here in Kansas that Aramentia Dolton met Ransom Aaron Barnes, a New Jersey native who had settled in the area. In 1869, she and Barnes were married; less than a year later, they would have a daughter, Effie Carrie Barnes\u2014Paul Henson's mother.\n\nOn the Henson side, Jim could trace his pedigree back to colonial-era farmers in North Carolina whose descendants had slowly pushed west with the expanding American frontier, setting up farms and raising families in Kentucky and Kansas. One of those descendants was Jim's paternal grandfather, a sturdy Kansas farmer named Albert Gordon Henson, who, in 1889, had married Richmond Dolton's levelheaded granddaughter, Effie Carrie Barnes. After an ambitious though unsuccessful effort to stake a claim during the Cherokee Strip land run\u2014where he had rumbled into the dusty Oklahoma countryside in a mule-drawn buckboard\u2014Albert and Effie would eventually settle in Lincoln County, just east of Oklahoma City. It was here that Paul Ransom Henson\u2014the name Ransom was borrowed from Effie's father, Ransom Aaron Barnes\u2014would be born in 1904, the youngest of Albert and Effie's nine children.\n\nEach morning, Paul Henson would be awakened at first light to do his chores and walk the half mile to school, a one-room building crammed with fifty children and presided over by two teachers. While Albert Henson never had much formal schooling, he was determined to make education a priority for the children in the Henson household. With that sort of parental encouragement, Paul graduated from high school in 1924 at age nineteen, and immediately headed for Iowa State College\u2014now Iowa State University, a school recognized then, as now, for the quality of its agricultural programs. Over the next four years, Paul was a member of the agriculture-oriented Alpha Gamma Rho fraternity, participated on the Farm Crops Judging Team (the team would place third nationally in 1927), and even discovered a knack for performance as a member of the Dramatic Club. In July 1928, he received his BS in Farm Crops and Soils, completing a thesis on the hybridization of soybeans.\n\nFollowing graduation, Paul began work on his master's degree at the University of Maryland, enrolling in courses covering plant physics, biochemistry, genetics, statistics, agronomy, and soil technology. One afternoon, while eating his lunch, he caught sight of an attractive young woman walking toward the campus restaurant\u2014when pressed, he would later admit his eyes had been drawn mainly to her legs\u2014and was determined to win an introduction. The legs, as it turned out, belonged to Elizabeth Brown\u2014Betty, as everyone called her\u2014the twenty-one-year-old secretary to Harry Patterson, dean of the College of Agriculture.\n\nElizabeth Marcella Brown was born in Washington, D.C., and raised in Maryland, but had lived in Memphis and New Orleans long enough to pick up both the lilting accent and genteel demeanor of a Southern belle. The accent and the manners were fitting, for Betty had a refined, distinctly Southern, and generally artistic pedigree. In fact, it was through Betty's side of the family that Jim Henson could trace his artistic ability, in a straight and colorful line running through his mother and grandmother back to his maternal great-grandfather, a talented Civil War\u2013era mapmaker named Oscar.\n\nOscar Hinrichs\u2014a swaggering Prussian who had immigrated to the United States in 1837 at the age of two\u2014began working as a cartographer for the United States Coast Survey at age twenty-one, reporting directly to Alexander Dallas Bache, head of the survey and a great-grandson of Benjamin Franklin. When the Civil War began in 1860, Oscar enthusiastically enlisted with the Confederacy\u2014even smuggling himself into the South with the help of Confederate sympathizers in Maryland\u2014and loaned his valuable mapmaking skills to the Southern cause even as he survived battles at Antietam, Gettysburg, and the Wilderness. After the war, Oscar married Marylander Mary Stanley\u2014whose father had helped him sneak into the Confederacy\u2014and moved to New York City. Over the next ten years, Mary bore Oscar six children, including one daughter, Sarah\u2014Betty Brown's mother, and Jim Henson's grandmother. It was Sarah who inherited Oscar Hinrichs's innate artistic streak, and she would learn not only how to paint and draw, but also how to sew, carve, and use hand tools\u2014talents that Jim Henson would wield just as skillfully two generations later as he sketched, carved, and sewed his earliest Muppets.\n\nThe Hinrichs family eventually settled in Washington, D.C., where Oscar unhappily bounced between jobs, convinced employers were discriminating against him because of his service to the Confederacy. Compounding his misery, Mary became ill with uterine cancer and died in 1891 at the age of fifty-two. Less than a year later, a grief-stricken Oscar Hinrichs took his own life, leaving an orphaned fourteen-year-old Sarah to tend to two younger brothers. Dutifully, Sarah dropped out of the art school into which she had just been accepted and moved with her brothers into a Washington boardinghouse. For the rest of their lives, neither Sarah nor her siblings openly discussed Oscar Hinrichs's sad demise\u2014a penchant for maintaining a respectful silence about unhappy circumstances that her grandson Jim Henson would also share.\n\nIn 1902, twenty-four-year-old Sarah Hinrichs was introduced to Maury Brown, a lanky, thirty-four-year-old clerk and stenographer for Southern Railway. Born in Kentucky on the day after Christmas in 1868, Maury Heady Brown\u2014Jim Henson's grandfather\u2014was a self-made man with a rugged Southern determination. Raised by a single mother who was totally deaf, Brown had run away from home at age ten and learned to use the telegraph, supporting himself by reporting horse-racing scores for a Lexington racetrack. A voracious reader and quick learner, he next taught himself typewriting and shorthand, eventually becoming so proficient at both that he was hired as the full-time private secretary to the president of Southern Railway. When he met Sarah Hinrichs in the winter of 1902, Brown fell in love immediately\u2014and on their second date, as they ice skated on the frozen Potomac River, Maury Brown presented Sarah Hinrichs with an armful of red roses and asked for her hand. While the newspapers in 1903 may have noted the marriage of Maury and Sarah Brown, to each other\u2014and to the rest of the family\u2014they would always be \"Pop\" and \"Dear.\"\n\nFor the next few years, Pop and Dear bounced around with the Southern Railway, landing briefly in Missouri, Washington, Memphis, and New Orleans, and all while raising three daughters, Mary Agnes, Elizabeth, and Barbara\u2014better known as Attie, Betty, and Bobby. Perhaps because they moved around so often, the Browns were an exceptionally close and good-natured family. \"I just thought we had the happiest home that ever was,\" Bobby said later. \"And I remember what a shock it was when I would go to other people's houses to sleep over and found out that all families weren't as fun and nice to each other as ours!\"\n\nAt some point in his youth, Maury Brown embraced Christian Science, a relatively new faith that had been formally established in 1879. Consequently, the daughters were all brought up as Christian Scientists, though moderate in their practice, likely through the influence of Dear. While the daughters might forgo most medical care in favor of prayer or homeopathic treatments\u2014as a girl, Betty was dunked in alternating hot and cold water baths to combat a case of whooping cough\u2014more serious injuries were almost always attended to by physicians. When Attie was badly hurt in a car accident one winter, the family immediately called for a doctor\u2014and far from being concerned about compromising her faith, Attie remembered being more embarrassed that the doctor had to cut away her long underwear to set her broken leg.\n\nEventually, the Browns returned to the D.C. area for good, living first in a \"perfectly awful\" place near the railroad tracks in Hyattsville, Maryland\u2014the house would shake violently as trains roared past\u2014before settling into the much quieter Marion Street in 1923. Attie and Betty were expected to help pay the mortgage each month, and shortly after high school both found work as secretaries\u2014Attie at an express company, and Betty at the nearby University of Maryland, where she, and her legs, soon caught the eye of Paul Henson.\n\nPaul would woo Betty for the better part of two years, studying genetics and plant biology at the university during the week and attending regular tennis parties hosted by the Browns on weekends\u2014and Paul quickly came to adore not just Betty, but the entire Brown family. It was easy to see why; Dear and Pop were devoted to each other, while the girls, both then and later, had distinct, almost Dickensian, personalities. Attie was the serious and straitlaced one and became a devoted Episcopalian. Betty was considered practical and no-nonsense, though she could show flashes of a slightly silly sense of humor, while Bobby was the happy-go-lucky one who worked to ensure that everything was \"upbeat all the time.\" All three, too, were excellent tennis players, having been taught to play at a young age by their dashing uncle Fritz Hinrichs, who also taught the girls to dance. Attie later admitted she \"could've cared less\" about tennis, but the parties kept the Browns in the center of a wide social circle, and their names on the society pages of _The Washington Post_.\n\nIn the spring of 1930, Paul completed work on his master's thesis\u2014on the \"effect of starchy endosperm on the distribution of carbohydrates in the corn plant\"\u2014and received a master of science degree in June. He and Betty married on December 27, 1930\u2014the same day Attie, still recovering from her car accident, married Stanleigh \"Jinx\" Jenkins, a good-natured high school teacher and Episcopalian minister. Although Paul was graduating during the first difficult years of the Great Depression, with his advanced degree and his background in soybean research, he found employment almost immediately as an agronomist with the U.S. Department of Agriculture. In early 1931, the USDA decided to post him not to the research facility at nearby Beltsville, Maryland, as perhaps Betty had hoped, but rather at the Delta Branch Experiment Station in Mississippi. The newlywed Hensons were off to Leland.\n\nDespite the distance from home, even Betty Henson had to admit that Leland was an attractive place to start a family. The surrounding landscape was lush and green, brimming with wildflowers almost year-round. Cypress trees lined Deer Creek, keeping the shores shady and relatively cool even in the humid summer. The population was just large enough\u2014hovering around three thousand\u2014to support movie theaters, drugstores, and several churches and restaurants, while still being small enough to provide a small-town feel. Further, with the steady flow into Stoneville of college-educated scientists\u2014most of them, like Paul Henson, with advanced degrees\u2014the school in Leland was one of the best in Mississippi. The town, in fact, seemed immune to the Depression infecting the rest of the country. Near record harvests of cotton were ginned at Stoneville and packed into the railroad cars that regularly chugged through the Delta region. Construction was booming, and businesses were doing so well that local police fretted about the best way to manage the traffic that was snarling Broad and Main Streets on Saturday evenings.\n\nFurther, the government had gone out of its way to make the relatively remote Stoneville facility as attractive as possible to its scientists and staff. Most employees lived on the grounds of the facility itself\u2014and, in fact, a home had been built specifically for the Hensons in early 1931, a four-room house just southeast of the new main administration building, erected at a cost of $3,093. Milk was delivered daily, free of charge, courtesy of the on-site dairy, and each year the facility would sponsor a Delta Days celebration where families would come from miles around to eat from enormous pits of barbecued chicken and pork and take part in pickup baseball games and other contests.\n\nThe Hensons would be in Leland only a little more than a year before they added their first child. In the autumn of 1932, with Dear and Bobby close at hand, Betty bore a son they named Paul Ransom Henson, Jr.\u2014a small, sad-eyed boy on whom Betty doted. For the next four years, Betty would make regular and extended trips back to her parents' place in Maryland\u2014where the rest of the family could coo and fuss over their firstborn\u2014while Paul Sr. settled into his position at Stoneville, escaping the stifling heat of the administration building each day by tromping the nearby fields of soybeans stretching steadily upward toward the Mississippi sun.\n\nFour years later, the week of September 20, 1936, was an unseasonably hot one for the Delta region. Cotton plants wilted under a scorching sun, while a few scattered rain showers lamely soaked into the dry, brittle ground. On Wednesday evening\u2014the 23rd\u2014with thunderstorms still rumbling across the Delta, Paul Henson drove his pregnant wife the nine dusty miles from Stoneville to Greenville and checked her into King's Daughters Hospital, a stern-looking building the locals called simply \"The Hospital,\" since it was the only one in the region. The following morning\u2014at 11:40 A.M. on Thursday, September 24, 1936, with a Dr. Lucas attending\u2014Betty Henson gave birth to her second child, an eight-pound, eleven-ounce, round-faced son with a shock of sandy hair. While their first son had been named for her husband, for their second child Betty looked to her side of the family\u2014and perhaps intentionally employed the same trick Paul Henson's own mother had used when naming him\u2014using her father's first name as her new son's middle one. Betty and Paul Henson's younger son, then, would be James Maury Henson\u2014though his family would almost always call him Jimmy.\n\nOnly a little more than a year later, in early 1938, the Hensons moved back to Maryland, taking a house at 4012 Tennyson Road in Hyattsville. Founded just before the Civil War and straddling railroad tracks and the Baltimore and Washington Turnpike, Hyattsville was at an ideal location to funnel traffic and commerce between Baltimore and the nation's capital. By the late 1930s, it was a bustling streetcar suburb with a thriving downtown\u2014including a brand-new Woolworth's\u2014and like Leland, was already struggling with traffic and parking problems.\n\nFor the next five years, between the constant bustle of bridge and tennis parties at the Browns' a few blocks away, Paul Henson would make the short daily commute up Baltimore Avenue to the Beltsville Agricultural Research Center and its newly established Bureau of Plant Industry. In 1940, he completed a course in cytology at the University of Maryland, and began researching alternatives for beef cattle feed, eventually publishing his findings in the respected _Journal of Animal Science_.\n\nFor his younger son, however, those first years in Maryland were a blur\u2014no surprise, really, considering that Jim's colleagues would later laugh that his ability to recall the past was almost nonexistent. \"Jim hardly ever gets the past straight,\" Muppet writer Jerry Juhl said. \"That's because he's completely future oriented.\" Jim did recall seeing _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_ and _The Wizard of Oz_ at this time\u2014and while he would later cite _The Wizard of Oz_ as his favorite film, given that he would have been barely three at the time of its 1939 release, it's little wonder that what he remembered most was being terrified of the roaring MGM lion before the film's opening scene.\n\nPerhaps one of the most important and lasting impacts of these early Maryland years, however, was on Jim's way of speaking. While Southern-born, Jim learned to talk in the D.C. region, where he was more likely to hear the slightly fronted vowels of the mid-Atlantic accent than the Southern drawl of the Delta. Although Jim may have continued to hear Betty's gentle Southern lilt at home, it was Paul's flat, slightly nasal, Midwestern twang, as well as his almost whisper-quiet way of speaking, that Jim ultimately adopted. As he grew older, too, Jim developed a particular quirk in his speaking that, to many, would be as identifiable with him as his bib of a beard: when deep in thought, Jim would _hmmm_ quietly as he considered a question or comment\u2014and colleagues would learn to gauge Jim's mood from the length or tenor of a particular _hmmm_.\n\nAt the end of Jim's first-grade year, the Hensons returned to Leland, moving back into government housing on the Stoneville campus. The Henson home edged up against an orchard of pecan trees, planted for research and hybridization studies, but raided regularly by Jim and Paul Jr., who would bring in sackfuls of nuts for Betty to bake into pecan pies. Chickens ran in a small fenced-in area in the side yard, while the back of the house faced a fountain and circular drive leading up to the three-story, red-brick administration building. Just beyond the road that ran in front of the Henson house, the lawn sloped sharply down to Deer Creek.\n\nDeer Creek, for all its beauty, wasn't a creek for swimming. Already shallow and swampy, cypress trees crashed regularly down into the murky water, creating makeshift dams that backed up with a mess of mud and debris. \"None of us were allowed to swim in that creek,\" recalled Gordon Jones, Jim's best friend at the time. It was still their primary spot for playing, though instead of swimming or fishing, Jim and his friends generally preferred romping along the sloping banks. But \"there were snakes all along the creek bank,\" recalled Tommy Baggette, another Leland friend, \"and everybody had to be careful where they walked.\" To Jim, the snakes were all part of what he later recalled fondly as \"an idyllic time.\" \"I was a Mississippi Tom Sawyer,\" he said later. \"I had a BB gun, and I'd shoot at the water moccasins in the swamp just to wake them up.\"\n\nWhen he wasn't romping on the banks of Deer Creek or startling snakes with his gun, Jim was an avid bird-watcher, squinting into the high grass near the fields on the Stoneville compound, or peering up into the tops of the cypress trees with a pair of binoculars, then thumbing through his thick book of birds to try to identify what he'd seen flutter past. Baggette remembered being impressed by a reference book Jim had made himself by pasting in pictures of birds cut from books and magazines, and filling the margins with his own drawings. When pressed, Jim would name the blackbird as his favorite, not only for its spunky personality, but also because he delighted in the sound of the bird's less formal name: the grackle. It was the sort of deliciously sharp-sounding nonsensical word that Jim loved\u2014a meaningless word that just _sounded_ like it meant something.\n\nJim and Paul Jr. were enrolled at the Leland Consolidated School, an elegant high-ceilinged, single-story brick building that backed onto the creek. Here Jim joined the Cub Scouts, and picked up with a regular group of friends, including the bookish Jones, the rascally Baggette, the colorfully named Royall Frazier, and a strapping young man named Theodore Kermit Scott. While the Hensons still referred to their youngest son as Jimmy, to Jones, Frazier, and most of Leland, he was hailed by the groan-inducing _James_ , thanks to a fourth-grade teacher who needed a way to distinguish between three boys in her class with similar names. \"Jimmy Childress was going to be Jimmy,\" said Frazier later, laughing. \"Jim Carr was going to be Jim and that meant Jim Henson was going to be James!\"\n\nSundays in Leland were for church\u2014and even with its relatively small population, Leland had a number of churches, with Methodist, Catholic, Presbyterian, Baptist, and several separate black churches all represented by their own imposing brick or stone structures. Paul Henson was, for the most part, a nonpracticing Methodist, while Betty and her sons were among the few Christian Scientists in the entire Delta region\u2014before the arrival of the Hensons, a religious survey of the town had located exactly two Christian Scientists\u2014but Jim's unusual faith was never cause for much conversation between him and his friends. Discussing his religious views years later, Jim was deferential to faith in general, a courtesy friends and colleagues deeply respected. \"Over the years, I've evolved my own set of beliefs and attitudes\u2014as we all have\u2014I feel work for me,\" Jim wrote later. \"I don't feel particularly comfortable telling others how to think or live. There are people who know more about these things than I do.\" \"He was not an evangelical at all,\" agreed Gordon Jones, \"and I wondered if it wasn't more of an intellectual thing, something that his parents had put on him, because it wasn't something that he seemed to really enjoy talking about or feel like he had to talk about.\"\n\nStill, Jones, a Baptist, was curious enough to ask Jim about his religion at least once. \"I remember he had pretty good answers,\" Jones said. \"I wanted to know 'What happens when you get sick?' and 'Don't you go to the doctor?' And he let me know that a Christian Scientist's faith would handle that kind of thing.\" When it came to more serious illnesses, Jones said, Jim informed him that these were due to \"a temporary lapse of faith.\" At that point, \"they would go to the doctor,\" Jones said. \"But generally, they depended on their faith to heal them.\"\n\nWith no real organized church of Christian Science in the area, Jim participated to some degree in the social opportunities provided by Leland's many other churches. Some weekends, Kermit Scott and his family would pick Jim up in Stoneville and attend services at the white Spanish Mission\u2013style Methodist church in Leland. Other times, the Fraziers would bring him to the brick Presbyterian church on the corner of Willeroy and Broad Streets, where Jim would attend Sunday school classes. Here the basement classroom was presided over by a local osteopath named Dr. Cronin, whose lessons were remembered more for their entertainment value than for instruction in the gospels. Cronin delighted in engaging students with trivia questions and awarding prizes for the quickest correct answer, and for one particular contest announced that the student with the first correct answer would receive a softball bat while the runner-up would get a softball. \"Jim found it just before I did and so Jim had first prize and I had second,\" Frazier recalled. \"But Jim already had a bat [so] he went ahead and said, 'No, I'll take the ball,' and he let me have the bat, just because I wanted it so badly.\" That was characteristic of Jim, said Frazier warmly. \"He was a good friend.\"\n\nIf Sundays were for church, however, Saturdays were for Temple.\n\nOn the corner of Broad and Fourth in downtown Leland stood the town's sturdy brick movie theater, the Temple, built by the local Masons who used its spacious upstairs rooms for meetings. The name was appropriate, for here an eight-year-old Jim Henson would spend countless Saturdays sitting with his eyes cast reverently upward in the darkened theater, engrossed in the flickering images on the screen. \"We'd always go on Saturday to watch the double feature cowboy movies,\" Baggette said. For fifteen cents, Jim and his friends could each get a bag of popcorn and spend an entire day soaking up serials, newsreels, cartoons, and the latest comedies or action films. Jim particularly liked films with exotic locations and costumes, whether it involved the American West or the Far East, and he and his friends would spend the rest of the week reenacting what they'd seen on screen, stalking each other through the pecan trees near Jim's house, building elaborate props, and putting together costumes from old clothing and materials salvaged from linen closets.\n\nSometimes neighbors would see Jim sitting swami-style on the front lawn of the Henson house, bunched up in a sheet with his head wrapped in a makeshift turban, pretending to snake-charm a garden hose. That was typical; whether it was figuring out how to make clothespin guns that fired rubber bands or building miniature slingshots, Jim could almost always come up with a clever or creative way to make their games more fun. \"A child's use of imagination and fantasy blends into his use of creativity,\" Jim explained later. The trick, he said, was to \"try out whole new directions. There are many ways of doing something. Look for what no one has tried before.\" As he would demonstrate many times throughout his life, sometimes the cleverest solutions to a problem were also the simplest\u2014and usually lying in plain sight, provided you could see a thing differently.\n\nJones, for example, remembered being fascinated with the 1944 Columbia serial _The Desert Hawk_ , a swashbuckling Arabian adventure in which Gilbert Roland played twin brothers, one good, one evil. \"The good guy had a birthmark. It was a black star on one of his wrists,\" Jones recalled. \"So Jim brought me a little cork he had made\u2014he had cut it out and made a star and charred it so that I could make a little black star on my wrist if I wanted to, which I thought was just absolutely great. It hadn't occurred to me to make that thing or even figure out how to do it... but he was always coming up with simple little things that others didn't.\" Even at eight years old, Jones said, Jim \"had something the rest of us didn't have\u2014an unusual degree of originality.\"\n\nBut Jim had something else, too. He had Dear.\n\nEven with her daughter Betty living more than a thousand miles away, Dear continued to make regular trips from Maryland to Mississippi, usually traveling by train, with daughter Bobby for company. Perhaps because Betty tended to indulge the more fragile, less independent Paul Jr., and often left Jim to entertain himself, Jim was exceptionally close to Dear\u2014they even shared the same birthday\u2014and on her arrival, Jim and Dear would immerse themselves in paint and pencils and crayons and glue. Like her mapmaking father, Dear was quick and sure with a pencil, and she encouraged Jim in his own drawings\u2014which were often of loopy-eyed birds or wide-mouthed monsters\u2014as Jim discovered how the placement of two dots for eyes could convey emotion, or how a slash could make an angry mouth. It was the same simplicity that he would later bring to his sense of design for the Muppets.\n\nDear was equally certain with a paintbrush\u2014she had oil-painted a picture of the roses Pop had given her when he proposed, for example, which remained a family heirloom until it fell apart in the 1970s\u2014and had a knack for crafts and delicate woodwork, including carving and sculpting, all skills she had also learned from Oscar Hinrichs. \"[He's] the one who taught our mother to do the handwork things she did,\" said Attie of her grandfather\u2014and Dear nurtured the same talents and enthusiasm in her grandson.\n\nApart from her considerable painting and drawing skills, Dear excelled with needle and thread. Her sewing ability, in fact, was the stuff of family legend. Enormous quilts and needlework decorated her home, and Dear had made not only all of her own clothes, but all of her daughters' clothes as well. Attie recalled with awe Dear's ability to sew with nearly any material, including a coat she had sewn from a heavy, scratchy army blanket. \"How she sewed that material,\" Attie said, \"nobody knows.\" This skill, too, Dear would cultivate in Jim, who would later build, sculpt, and sew his puppets out of nearly any materials he could find lying around.\n\nPerhaps most important, Dear was Jim's best audience. She encouraged Jim in his play and in his dressing up and prop making, coaxed stories from him and indulged his fondness for puns and practical jokes. A voracious reader, Dear also inspired a love of reading in Jim, whether it was L. Frank Baum's _Wizard of Oz_ books or the comics pages of the newspaper. And with her proud Southern heritage\u2014\"the Brown girls were never allowed to forget they were Southerners!\" said Bobby\u2014Dear instilled in Jim a similar sense of genteel self-importance. It wasn't arrogance, but simply a conviction that he could do and be anything he wanted\u2014a confidence and self-awareness that, for the rest of his life, family and colleagues admired and found reassuring. \"He was convinced he was going to be successful,\" his wife, Jane, said later. \"I think he knew he was extraordinary. But it was in a quiet way where he just quietly knew that he knew things.\"\n\nWith such encouragement at home, it was no surprise Jim found school relatively easy. While he wasn't the best student in class\u2014that distinction fell to Jones, who later became a physicist\u2014Jim was ranked in the top three. Jim's classmates remember him as being very clever, but never seeking the spotlight. No one could recall Jim taking an interest in school productions, apart from obligatory supporting roles in chorus or Christmas plays. It was perhaps just as well, for Jim was so soft-spoken that audience members would likely have had to strain to hear him.\n\nWhile Jim was taller than most boys his age, he was neither gawky nor an athlete, though Kermit Scott admitted that Jim was \"a little bit more of a nerd\" than the rest of the gang. Still, Jim could surprise his classmates by exhibiting the same brand of toughness that had sent his paternal grandfather rumbling wildly into the Cherokee Strip. One evening out at Jones's farm, Jim and his friends took part in a boxing match\u2014a sport at which the well-built, and slightly older, Tommy Baggette excelled. The boys took turns putting on the gloves and fighting one-on-one, but when it came time to find an opponent to take on the good-natured but solid Baggette, all eyes went downward. Finally, Jim stepped forward. \"[He] would do things like that,\" Jones remembered. \"He had guts... if somebody else wouldn't do it, he would\u2014and... he'd just go ahead and make the best of it.\" The result? \"Tommy hit him with an uppercut and knocked him down,\" Jones said. \"But I just remember thinking how much nerve it took for [Jim] to put himself in that spot.\"\n\nStill, there were no hard feelings between Jim and Baggette, whose mother, Jessie Mae, served as one of the den mothers for their Cub Scout troop. It was in Cub Scouts, in fact, that Jim got his first taste of performing, putting on a kind of pantomime with Gordon Jones as part of a troop skit night. As Jones stood with his hands clenched behind his back, giving a short speech in a deadpan manner, Jim stood pressed up behind him, poking his arms through the crook of Jones's arms to perform the speaker's hands. \"He'd reach out his handkerchief and pat [Jones's] forehead, doing all these kinds of things which we all thought was hilarious,\" Frazier remembered. It was no accident, Jones said later, that Jim performed the expressive hands, which was the part of the skit \"calling for originality and showmanship.... Jim was the showman.\"\n\nBetty Henson also served as a den mother for Jim's Cub Scout troop. As it turned out, the Henson home was a favorite gathering place, not only because Betty was known to serve warm pecan pies at Scout meetings, but also because the Henson household was a genuinely warm one. Everyone liked each other and a good sense of humor mattered. The Hensons, said Jones, \"were very quiet people.... But they all had a sense of humor and they would say things that were funny. But there was no loud-voice laughing. Everybody was very merry, and they did a lot of wordplay and things of that nature.\"\n\nWhile Paul Sr.\u2014\"Dr. Henson,\" as the boys respectfully called him\u2014was perhaps the quietest member of the family, he was known around the Stoneville compound for his way with a story. During the almost weekly summer fish fries at the Experiment Station, a crowd would gather around Paul as he launched into one funny story after another. As for Betty Henson, she was \"absolutely delightful,\" said Jones, with \"a bright, witty sense of humor.\" She took great delight in gently teasing the boys, pouring a glass of milk to overflowing, for example, if the boys didn't literally say \"when.\" \"I'd say 'Okay, that's enough,' and she'd keep pouring!\" laughed Jones. \"His mother was great for jokes,\" agreed Frazier, who recalled Betty trying to convince him that a blurry baby picture actually showed Jim with six toes. \"She said, 'You never noticed he had six toes?'... And I kept saying, 'Take off your shoe, Jim!' \"\n\nJim, it seemed, could see the humor in almost any situation. For a while, the Hensons owned a horse named Peggy, a volatile creature that Jim and Kermit Scott would attempt to ride among the pecan trees near the Henson house. Instead, Peggy would bolt for the low-hanging branches to knock Jim, or anyone else, off her back. While Jim howled with laughter at the nerve of the horse, Scott was less amused. \"Both of us nearly got killed,\" he grumbled.\n\nWild horses aside, Jim and Paul Jr. were always tinkering with something. While Paul was more mathematically inclined, working on detailed projects with small parts, Jim was the more ambitious of the two brothers, often taking on big, messy projects that required a great deal of space. While Jim and Paul were four years apart, they remained close\u2014given his slight build, Paul was more comfortable playing with Jim and his friends than boys his own age (Paul Henson would, in fact, remain of slight build for the rest of his life)\u2014and he and Jim would spend hours together in their side yard, hunched over model airplanes and crystal radio sets. Jim would always be a gadget freak, a passion he had likely inherited from his great-uncle Ernie, Dear's younger brother, who had built his own crystal radio in the 1920s so he and Dear could listen to _Two Black Crows_ together on the radio's earpiece. To Frazier's delight, Jim's radios worked, too. \"You could get one radio station very faintly,\" said an impressed Frazier. \"But it worked!\"\n\nAs much as Jim liked building radios and knowing how they worked, he loved listening to them even more. \"Early radio drama was an important part of my childhood,\" Jim said fondly. \"I'd go home at four-thirty or five in the afternoon to hear shows like _The Green Hornet_ , _The Shadow_ and _Red Ryder..._ and of course I loved the comedians.\" Fibber McGee and Molly was one of Jim's favorites, as was Jack Benny. But most of all, Jim lived for Sunday evenings, when NBC radio aired _The Chase and Sanborn Hour_ , featuring ventriloquist Edgar Bergen and his dummy Charlie McCarthy.\n\nBergen was that oddest of phenomena\u2014a ventriloquist who had rocketed to success on the radio, where no one could see the performance. Those watching Bergen live in the studio might have argued that was for the best, as Bergen's ventriloquism skills could often get sloppy, his lips visibly moving when he spoke through his dummies. It was a charge Bergen shrugged off; to Bergen, the technique was secondary to the characters\u2014and Bergen excelled both at creating memorable characters and bringing them to life almost purely through the sound of his voice. Bergen engaged his characters in rapid-fire banter so nimbly\u2014rotating flawlessly between his own voice and the voices of his impish sidekick Charlie McCarthy or dimbulb Mortimer Snerd\u2014that radio listeners were convinced they were real people. Jim Henson, for one, was certain of it. \"I wasn't thinking of any of those people as puppets,\" he said. \"They were human to me.\"\n\nBut it went even further than that, as Jim would explain years later; using a dummy allowed Bergen to do something indefinable. \"Edgar Bergen's work with Charlie and Mortimer was magic,\" Jim enthused. \"Magic in the real sense. Something happened when Edgar spoke through Charlie\u2014things were said that couldn't be said by ordinary people.\" As Jim would discover, there _was_ a kind of magic, a wonderful kind of freedom, involved in letting a character at the end of your arm give voice to sentiments one might not feel comfortable expressing while wearing the guise of, as Jim called them, \"ordinary people.\"\n\nIn 1948, the U.S. Department of Agriculture sent the Henson family back to Maryland, where Paul returned to work at the Beltsville Agricultural Research Center. The family purchased a cozy new 1,500-square-foot house at 4002 Beechwood Road in the recently incorporated town of University Park, only a little more than a mile from the University of Maryland. It had been hard leaving Leland, not only for twelve-year-old Jim, but for his circle of friends as well. \"I was really sad and upset that he was getting ready to move,\" said Gordon Jones, who would also move from Leland a short time later. But being back in Maryland did bring with it one major blessing: it meant being close to Dear, who still lived with Pop in the house at 4306 Marion Street in Hyattsville, less than ten minutes away. Now, instead of gathering as a family perhaps once every three months, the Hensons and the Browns could get together every week to eat large family dinners around Dear's meticulously set table, then retire to the porch to talk and tell stories as they rocked in rhythm on squeaking metal gliders. Those gatherings would always be some of Jim's fondest memories. \"There was so much laughter,\" he said, \"because everyone was always telling jokes and saying funny things.\"\n\nIt was easy to see where Betty Henson had gotten her sense of humor, for both Pop and Dear were funny, though in different ways. Where Dear tended toward the silly, Pop had a more \"keen, subtle sense of humor.\" But \"he never laughed in ridicule,\" Attie explained. \"He didn't think ridicule was funny at all.\" In fact, Pop would never allow conversations to veer toward anything remotely unpleasant or disagreeable\u2014a trait that would define Jim as well. \"If the dinner conversation seemed to be getting out of hand,\" recalled Paul Henson, \"he'd get a _Reader's Digest_ and read to us!\" Many times, Pop would come to the table with a joke or funny story already in mind, fully prepared if necessary to seize control of a wandering conversation or glum mood.\n\nThings could get even livelier at the holidays when Attie and Bobby and their families were added to the mix. \"Fifteen or twenty people would be there, sitting around the dinner table,\" Jim remembered, \"and my grandparents would have stories to tell\u2014usually stories from their childhood. They would tell a tale, and somebody would try to top it. I've always felt that these childhood experiences of my family sitting around the dinner table, making each other laugh, were my introduction to humor.\" In fact, Jim's own sense of humor was a heady mix of every kind of humor seated around the table\u2014a touch of Dear's laugh-out-loud sensibility, a bit of Paul's quiet joy in storytelling, a dash of Betty's twinkling delight in wordplay, then seasoned with Pop's more subtle edge that always laughed _with_ an audience, never _at_ them.\n\nBut by 1949, there was something else that had perhaps an even more pronounced effect on Jim. Always the gadget freak, there was a new device that had him absolutely fascinated. It was an obsession that would direct his focus, shape the artist he would become, and change the very course of his life.\n\nIt was a television. And Jim was going to make certain he \"drove 'em all crazy\" until he had one.\n\n# **CHAPTER TWO**\n\n#\n\n# **A MEANS TO AN END**  \n1949\u20131955\n\n_Jim's first Muppet, Pierre the French Rat_. (photo credit 2.1)\n\nTHE STORY OF TELEVISION BEGINS\u2014LIKE ANY GOOD AMERICAN SUCCESS story should\u2014with a birth in a log cabin.\n\nMore precisely, it begins in a log cabin near Beaver, Utah, where Philo Taylor Farnsworth\u2014or Phil, as nearly everyone would call him\u2014was born on August 19, 1906. A precocious child, everyone around him was certain Phil was a genius\u2014and he didn't disappoint. In 1919, at age thirteen, Phil invented a burglarproof ignition switch for automobiles, earning him an award from _Science and Invention_ magazine. At seventeen, he entered Brigham Young University, specializing in chemistry and electronics. By age twenty, he was running his own business.\n\nBut it was an idea that came to him at age fourteen\u2014allegedly with one of those remarkable _Eureka!_ moments that are probably too good a story to be entirely true\u2014that would ensure Phil a place in the pantheons of both popular culture and history. In 1920, while tilling a potato field in a monotonous back and forth pattern with his horse-drawn plow, Phil imagined that an electron beam might scan an image in exactly the same way, moving across the image line-by-line.\n\nHe was right\u2014and on September 7, 1927, in a makeshift laboratory in a San Francisco loft, Philo T. Farnsworth transmitted the world's first electronic television image: a straight white line scratched into a piece of black-painted glass. When the glass slide was slowly rotated ninety degrees, so, too, did the image on the screen. \"There you are,\" Farnsworth said with typical aplomb, \"electronic television.\"\n\nFarnsworth would become increasingly irritated with his best-known invention over the next twenty years\u2014he even prohibited his own family from watching it\u2014but his annoyance was definitely not shared by an eager viewing public. Even with little on television to watch in 1950, such scant fare had little effect on the public's enthusiasm for the remarkable machine. As one historian later put it, \"the simultaneity of television overrode all defects; when people could see things happening far away, they couldn't get over the wonder of it.\"\n\nFor Jim Henson, that simultaneity was more than just exciting, it was practically magic. To the boy who had sat spellbound in the movie theater watching exotic tales of the Far East, this was like a genie's sorcery. \"I loved the idea that what you saw was taking place somewhere else at the same time,\" Jim recalled. \"It was one of those absolutely wonderful things.\" After watching television at a friend's house in late 1949, Jim was convinced his family had to have a television set of their very own. Now.\n\nThere was one problem: as a relatively new and rare commodity\u2014in 1948, there were an estimated 350,000 television sets in use, compared with 66 million radios\u2014televisions were expensive. In 1950, a sixteen-inch black-and-white television\u2014like the boxy Admiral, with an \"Automatic Picture Lock-In\" guaranteed to \"bring you steady, clear reception even in hard to reach areas\"\u2014would set a family back $250, the equivalent of about $2,000 today. Fancier televisions with footed cabinets or, for the big money, those with a radio and record player built in, could run as much as $399, about $3,500 today.\n\nDespite the costs, Jim was determined. \"I badgered my family into buying a set,\" he later admitted somewhat sheepishly. \"I absolutely _loved_ television.\" It was a battle of wills Paul Henson, Sr., had little chance of winning. In 1950, Jim Henson had his television. And he watched it. Religiously.\n\nThere were four television channels available in the Washington, D.C., area in 1950\u2014not bad, considering that only two years earlier there were fewer than forty television stations broadcasting in only twenty-three cities nationally. In fact, by 1950, it was reported that people in the Baltimore-Washington area already spent more time watching TV than listening to the radio. As stations played with the new technology and different formats, local shows came and went, some wildly experimental, some mundane, and most lasting only a few weeks before being pulled from the air, never to be heard of again. Jim watched them all, and as he did so, one thing quickly became clear: \"I immediately wanted to work in television.\"\n\nDoing exactly what, he wasn't certain\u2014but in the meantime, Jim soaked up all television had to offer, including the conventions and formats that he would lovingly parody later in life, and the technical tricks he would master, then reinvent. He was especially intrigued with variety shows, one of the staples of the early television era, many with ensemble casts featuring comedians, singers, orchestras, magicians\u2014and all performed live, with comedy sketches, songs, monologues, and performances of every kind boomeranging off each other at a breakneck pace. And more often than not, presiding over the show was a host or emcee, who was usually just as much a part of the chaos around him despite his best efforts to keep things moving smoothly. It was a format Jim found irresistible.\n\nIn the evenings, for example, Jim found Milton Berle, whose madcap performances on _Texaco Star Theater_ did much to popularize TV and make it a must-have gadget. Spinning the television dial over to _Your Show of Shows_ , front man Sid Caesar could often be found careening wildly off-script, ad-libbing madly, dropping into different voices and accents, even incoherent double-talk, all in the name of a laugh. But Caesar's show was also home to some of the smartest comedy writers around\u2014including Carl Reiner and Mel Brooks\u2014giving Caesar solid material from which he could vamp and improvise. It was a smart show that didn't mind looking silly\u2014a kind of humor Jim could appreciate.\n\nAs inspired as Caesar's performances could be, they were nothing, as far as Jim was concerned, compared to those of Ernie Kovacs. More than just a master of deadpan comic delivery, Kovacs inherently understood the new TV medium like few others. Kovacs appreciated that it was the image on the TV screen that mattered the most, not what a live audience might see in studio\u2014and he delighted in routines using visual tricks that only worked when seen on a television screen. Some involved bits of technical wizardry that Kovacs used to enhance sight gags, like superimposed or reversed images. But one of his best and most memorable tricks\u2014in which items removed from a lunchbox seem to roll horizontally across a table and into someone's lap\u2014had a deftly simple solution: Kovacs sharply tilted the entire set, then tilted the camera at the same angle, making the on-screen image appear perfectly horizontal. Jim may have roared with laughter at the gag, but it also taught him an important, if obvious, lesson: look through the eyepiece and know exactly what your camera is seeing\u2014because that's your audience's reality. It was a lesson Jim would come to appreciate, and apply masterfully, in only a few short years.\n\nThere were plenty of kids' shows to watch as well _\u2014Howdy Doody_ , in fact, had been one of the very first shows broadcast on television nationally, starting in 1947. Young Marylanders could take their pick not only of _Howdy_ , but also of shows like _Life with Snarky Parker_ , a cowboy piece featuring the marionettes of Bil and Cora Baird, and _The Adventures of Lucky Pup_ , with puppets by Morey Bunin. \"I don't think I ever saw [ _Snarky Parker_ ],\" Jim admitted later\u2014little surprise, considering he was well beyond the age group of its target audience. He did, however, remember seeing the Bairds perform their marionettes on other shows. \"What I really knew of Bil and Cora Baird's work was their variety show stuff,\" Jim said. \"They were doing a CBS morning show, in opposition to the _Today_ show. They were just [performing to] novelty records and little tiny short bits and pieces.\"\n\nHe was more familiar, however, with the work of a talented puppeteer whom he would later count as a friend: Burr Tillstrom, who performed the puppet stars of NBC's enormously popular _Kukla, Fran and Ollie_. There were few people, in fact, who _weren't_ fans of Tillstrom's work. Launched as a kids' show in 1947, _Kukla, Fran and Ollie_ had quickly attracted more adult fans than children\u2014it counted among its admirers John Steinbeck, Orson Welles, and James Thurber\u2014and by 1949 it had already been featured in _Life_ magazine.\n\nThe brainchild of the Chicago-born Tillstrom, _Kukla, Fran and Ollie_ featured two of Tillstrom's puppets\u2014the well-intentioned Kukla and the rakish dragon Ollie\u2014interacting with the show's sole human cast member, Fran Allison, a former schoolteacher with a quick wit and no small amount of charm. The real magic was in the genuine chemistry between Allison and her puppet costars as they bantered, conversed, sang, and laughed together\u2014and all without a script, ad-libbing the entire show. Tillstrom's artistry was so endearing, in fact, that when Tillstrom had an ill Kukla blow his nose on the curtain of his puppet theater, hundreds of concerned fans mailed in handkerchiefs.\n\nBut there was much more going on for Jim in 1950 than just television. In March of that year, _The Christian Science Monitor_ published one of the many cartoons he had submitted, a major source of pride for the thirteen-year-old Jim and his family\u2014and especially to Dear, who had encouraged Jim with her own pencils, pens, and paints. The cartoon\u2014credited to Jimmy Henson\u2014shows two chefs pondering a large soup pot on a table in front of them. \"Shall we toss it and call it salad?\" asks one chef of the other, pointing down at the mess of ingredients, \"or cook it and call it stew?\" One chef is rail thin\u2014almost looking as Jim himself would look in several years\u2014while the other is plumper, his hat slightly crooked, setting up the study in contrasts that Jim always found hilarious and would use to great effect later in designing characters like Ernie and Bert or _The Muppet Show_ 's Bunsen Honeydew and Beaker.\n\nCartoons and comics were, in fact, another important part of Jim's creative life. Like most young people, Jim would open the newspaper almost instinctively to the comics section each day. While _The Washington Post_ contained plenty of comics, Jim preferred the selection offered in the Washington _Evening Star_ for one reason: it carried Walt Kelly's comic strip _Pogo_.\n\nOnly a little more than a year into its remarkable twenty-seven-year run\u2014and, in 1950, carried in only a handful of daily newspapers\u2014 _Pogo_ had already charmed its way to a position of prominence at the top of the _Evening Star_ 's left-hand comics page. Set in the Georgia portion of the Okefenokee Swamp\u2014and probably looking to Jim like an idealized version of Leland _\u2014Pogo_ starred an amiable possum whose kind nature frequently, and sometimes unwillingly, wrapped him up in the lives and machinations of a colorful cast of supporting characters, ranging from a wisecracking alligator named Albert to the self-important _faux_ intellectual Dr. Howland Owl.\n\nJim was an enormous fan of _Pogo_ , buying the paperback reprints of the daily strips almost as fast as Simon & Schuster could print them, and would remain a fan the rest of his life. With its calm-at-the-eye-of-the-hurricane main character and colorful ensemble cast, it is no great leap to see Kelly's fingerprints on what Jim would later create with his cast of Muppets. Indeed, Jim would always willingly and cheerily cite Kelly as an inspiration:\n\nWalt Kelly put together a team of characters. And it started with Pogo as the central character... a fairly normal, ordinary person... and all around him, he had Albert Alligator and a bunch of comedy characters bouncing off him. We use a very similar chemistry. Kermit is the Pogo. You have one normal person who represents the way people ordinarily think. And everything else, slightly crazier comedy characters are all around that person.\n\nBut beyond the dynamic of his cast of characters, Kelly performed a clever sleight-of-hand with _Pogo_ \u2014a trick Jim would also master and which would, in some ways, sum up his charm as an entertainer. A skilled satirist, Kelly often used _Pogo_ to comment on social and political issues, tweaking religion and eggheads, presidents, and politicians. It was snarky and sometimes subversive, but when coming out of the mouths of Kelly's entertaining, disarmingly cute, funny animals, readers were inclined to let him get away with it. It was snuggly satire, a deliciously dangerous combination of art and writing\u2014and younger readers could be entertained by the antics of the cute characters while their parents smiled over the more adult humor and themes.\n\nWhat it taught Jim Henson is that, done right, you can have it both ways. You can entertain younger audiences while still playing to adult viewers\u2014a practice that would make Jim's contributions to _Sesame Street_ so powerful and memorable. Perhaps more important, it also showed that you could get away with being a little dangerous, provocative, or just plain deep if you did it with a smile on your face and remembered that entertainment always came first. When done right, it's possible to be silly and subversive at the same time.\n\nFor Jim, who had come to appreciate in Leland that he need look no further than his own backyard for excitement, Hyattsville, Maryland, was a wealth of entertainment. Blended almost seamlessly with the neighborhoods of northeastern Washington, Hyattsville was a fully realized suburb that could reap the benefits of its urban neighbor\u2014good roads and mass transit, easy access to museums and Washington's touristy attractions\u2014and still manage to feel almost as rural as Mississippi, with plenty of woods and open spaces where Jim could bird-watch or just lie on his back and stare dreamily into the sky.\n\nJim particularly loved bike riding with Paul in Rock Creek Park in Washington, speeding down the tree-shaded pathways on their bikes or, at times, laughing and shouting as they pedaled a tandem. As they rode, Jim would snap pictures, usually capturing Paul only as a blur as he sped past, but delighting when he managed to keep Paul in focus by riding alongside him with the camera, keeping Paul sharp against the blurred background of trees and pedestrians. On rainy weekends, the brothers would ride in the park with their cousins Will and Stan\u2014Attie's boys\u2014and Jim would position himself near one of the deep puddles in the path to try to capture on film the exact moment when Will's front wheel entered the puddle, spraying water in a deep V around the bike. Even at thirteen, Jim took great joy in seeing the world as the camera saw it.\n\nIn the evenings, the Hensons would sit on their back porch and talk well into the evening\u2014Jim would always love good conversation\u2014or would gather around an old pump organ in the parlor that Jim and Paul Jr. had rescued from a junk pile and repaired back to playability. As Betty Henson pumped and pounded the keyboard for all she was worth, the family sang songs from the A. A. Milne songbook and, later, Walt Kelly's pun-filled _Songs of the Pogo_ , which Jim adored. Indeed, twenty years later, Jim would use songs from both songbooks\u2014including Kelly's \"Don't Sugar Me\" and Milne's \"Halfway Down the Stairs\"\u2014on _The Muppet Show_.\n\nIn the fall of 1950, both Jim and Paul Jr. were headed for new schools\u2014Paul to the University of Maryland, and Jim to Hyattsville High School, where he was starting his freshman year. While Paul was ostensibly studying teaching\u2014likely at the behest of Betty Henson\u2014he had different career ambitions. In Hyattsville, as they had in Leland, Paul and Jim had continued to tinker with engines and small machines. While Jim had developed a fascination with cars\u2014an affinity that would continue for the rest of his life\u2014Paul was absolutely transfixed by airplanes. \"He always wanted to fly,\" remembered Tommy Baggette. If Paul had his way, then, he was going to be a pilot.\n\nJim, meanwhile, would attend classes at Hyattsville High until 1951, when the crumbling school would be closed for good. For the next three years, Jim attended the sparkling new Northwestern High School, the pride of the Hyattsville community\u2014Maryland governor T. R. McKeldin himself had spoken at its dedication in November\u2014just around the corner from the Henson home. At Northwestern, Jim joined the tennis team, where he quickly became one of the best players on the squad. Like his parents and grandparents, Jim took the game seriously, and teammate Joe Irwin\u2014who would remain a lifelong friend\u2014remembered the tennis court as one of the few places he ever saw Jim's temper flare. During a game of doubles, recalled Irwin, \"I hit a bad lob, and this guy crushed it right at Jim and hit him.\" Jim and Irwin locked eyes, \"and I knew the game had changed,\" Irwin said. On the next volley, \"Jim crushed it right back at this guy,\" Irwin remembered. \"That was about as much anger as I've ever seen Jim put out. There was this need to get even, and Jim did. And then they played nicer.\" Playing nice would always be important to Jim.\n\nOff the court, Jim participated in high school drama, mostly designing posters and painting sets, but every once in a while taking on small acting parts. He also joined the school's new puppetry club, most likely because its sponsor, Miss Dawson, announced they would be performing a show based on Jim's beloved _Pogo_. But just as with the drama club, Jim was far more interested in designing and building sets than in doing any of the performing.\n\nIn September 1952, Jim Henson turned sixteen. As a budding car enthusiast, getting his driver's license was a definite thrill, but Jim was even more excited by the prospect that he was now old enough to work. He was determined, however, that his first job would not involve busing tables or washing dishes; television was still where he wanted to be. As Jim recalled, \"When I was old enough to get a job\u2014sixteen\u2014I went out and approached all these little studios in Washington\" eager to fill any opening that might be available. But the enthusiastic teenager was out of luck\u2014either none of the local television studios was hiring, or none was willing to take a chance on a passionate but unproven young man. Jim would have to wait more than a year for his opportunity.\n\nIt would be hard to wait. By March 1954\u2014Jim's senior year\u2014television would provide Americans with a window on a riveting real-life drama, as the United States Senate Subcommittee on Investigations began televising hearings to look into conflicting accusations between Senator Joseph McCarthy and the U.S. Army regarding the treatment of McCarthy's former aide David Schine. In the Washington area, the tumultuous hearings were broadcast live on two channels, making them unavoidable, must-see television. Even under the impartial gaze of the black-and-white television cameras, McCarthy's true colors were soon obvious. \"You're not fooling anyone,\" Senator Stuart Symington warned McCarthy\u2014and Symington's disgust was shared by millions of television viewers. It was the end for McCarthy, but for television, it was a beginning\u2014a new and unexpected flexing of muscles. Simply by broadcasting the hearings live, television had created An Event. It was Jim's first real experience with the power of television not only as entertainment, but as informer and educator. Jim would never forget the power of the glowing image on the small screen as an agent for change.\n\nLess than a mile from the Henson home was Baltimore Avenue, considered the main drag in Hyattsville, and crammed with plenty of diversions like the orange-roofed hamburger joint called Hot Shoppes, the bowling alley, and the thousand-seat Hyattsville Theatre, built in 1938 in a flashy Art Moderne style. The theater was only a little more than a mile from the Henson home, a quick sprint down Baltimore Avenue, and was always a good place to catch a movie, along with the latest _Looney Tunes_ cartoon that always showed before the main feature.\n\nThe Hyattsville Theatre was also a good place to bring prospective girlfriends. While his quiet way of speaking often led many to think he was shy, Jim was actually popular among the girls and had little trouble getting dates. Unusually tall for his age\u2014he would eventually top out at six foot one, though he was so lanky everyone would always swear he was taller\u2014Jim's height gave him presence, and even standing still, with one foot slightly forward and one hand resting lightly on his hip, he could exude the casual charm of his Southern forebears.\n\nLike many young people, Jim struggled with acne for most of his teenage years, his condition eventually becoming so severe that he pleaded with his mother for a medical treatment. Betty Henson, standing firm in her Christian Science beliefs, refused to allow Jim to take medication to clear his skin. It was a point of considerable friction between mother and son; but while Paul Henson, Sr., might wilt under Jim's persistent badgering, Betty Henson would not. Even though his _gee whiz_ Jimmy Stewart looks made him more striking than he often gave himself credit for, Jim's acne would leave him scarred and somewhat self-conscious about his looks. As he got older, he would hide his pocked cheeks behind a beard.\n\nWhile Jim was, for the most part, a gentlemanly date\u2014outgoing, slightly silly, with an engaging Southern gentility\u2014he could be, as one former girlfriend put it, _a little fast_. Joe Irwin, who frequently double-dated with Jim, could only shake his head in amusement at his friend's boldness as they parked with their dates on Maryland's rural back roads. \"I would have a nice little proper date sitting up [front] next to me and Jim would be disappearing into the back seat,\" Irwin laughed, then arched an eyebrow coyly as he chose his words carefully: \"Jim was more... adventurous.\"\n\nMeanwhile, Jim had made a name for himself at Northwestern High School with his artwork, turning in cartoons for student publications and silkscreen-printed posters promoting plays in the theater department. Even early on, Jim had already learned how to get the most out of simple shapes; his poster for the murder mystery _Nine Girls_ shows eight lollipop-headed stick figures with surprised white eyes gaping nervously as the ninth casts a glance sideways with suspicious, slitted eyes\u2014more of the stylized simplicity he would bring to his early designs for the Muppets. Just as important, Jim almost intuitively understood that it was the eyes that gave characters focus and life, even when those characters were drawn simply. _Especially_ when those characters were drawn simply.\n\nWith high school graduation approaching, Jim was still considering ways to break into television. He was already planning to enter the University of Maryland in the fall, hoping to study stage and television design with an eye toward securing a job in television\u2014or, barring that, in theater. But he was also still on the lookout for any opportunity to get his foot in the door of any television studio as quickly as possible.\n\nIn the late spring of 1954, toward the end of Jim's senior year, he suddenly found his chance. In May, the local CBS affiliate, WTOP, announced that TV personality Roy Meachum was seeking \"youngsters twelve to fourteen years of age who can manipulate marionettes\" for Meachum's upcoming _Junior Morning Show_ , which WTOP was planning to launch in June as a children's version of CBS's successful _Morning Show_. Despite his regular membership in Northwestern's puppetry club, Jim considered himself more of an artist and designer than a puppeteer. But if puppetry was what it was going to take to get into television, Jim would sell himself to the network as just the right puppeteer for the job.\n\nUnfortunately, Jim knew very little about puppetry. \"When I was a kid, I never saw a puppet show,\" he said later. \"I never played with puppets or had any interest in them. It was just a means to an end.\" But with his opportunity to get into television on the line, this particular means to an end was going to require Jim to learn about puppets and puppetry\u2014and fast. Fortunately, help was as close as Northwestern's library, where Jim checked out two books that would change his life: Marjorie Batchelder's 1947 puppetry handbook _The Puppet Theatre Handbook_ , and _My Profession_ , the 1950 autobiography of the versatile Russian puppeteer Sergei Vladimirovich Obraztsov. With Batchelder's practical advice on puppet building, and Obraztsov's inspired suggestions for performing\u2014and with only a week or so before the audition\u2014Jim immersed himself in a self-taught crash course in puppetry.\n\nJim enlisted the help of friend and fellow drama club member Russell Wall, and together they built what we can fairly call the ancestors to the Muppets in the living room of Jim's home on Beechwood Road. While it is likely that Jim and Wall built at least two puppets, one for each to perform, we only know that one was a puppet called Pierre the Rat, based on a cartoon Jim had drawn for Hyattsville High School's student publication _Wildcat Scratches_. Pierre was a small, skinny hand puppet with a rat head carved of plastic wood, wearing sunglasses and a beret with a white-tipped plastic cigarette glued to a hinged mouth\u2014primitive, but an impressive first effort. Equipped with their new puppets, Jim and Wall headed over to WTOP studios in D.C. and auditioned.\n\nThey got the job.\n\nIn early June 1954, shortly after Jim's graduation from Northwestern High School, Jim and Russell Wall made the short drive to WTOP television studios to begin several days of frantic rehearsals before the _Junior Morning Show_ 's debut the following week. Days later, inside one of WTOP's cramped studios, a voice called for silence, a camera whirred silently to life, and an indicator light glowed dully, signaling that the _Junior Morning Show_ was now on the air. Just like that, seventeen-year-old Jim Henson was finally in television.\n\nThere was only one problem. While Jim and Russell Wall were each of legal working age, three of their fellow puppeteers were not. On June 25, the _Evening Star_ reported that the _Junior Morning Show_ would be canceled after only three weeks for violating child labor laws. \"Three of the program's participants were under fourteen,\" the _Star_ tut-tutted, \"and consequently could not get work permits.\"\n\nFor a moment, it appeared Jim's television career might be over before it had even begun. But despite his relative inexperience as a puppeteer, Jim had already impressed Roy Meachum, who generously continued to scout for work for Jim and Russell Wall on WTOP. Meachum even landed them a spot on his own _Saturday_ show, where their puppets lip-synched to records. However, Meachum's _Saturday_ show was also doomed, running only through August.\n\nAt that point, Jim was just beginning to attend classes at the University of Maryland, and perhaps considered the demise of the _Saturday_ show as a blessing in disguise\u2014with _Saturday_ canned, he was free to concentrate on his studies and learn all he could about television design and production. This, with his brief appearances on WTOP, might, in time, lead to a different opportunity in television\u2014one that hopefully didn't involve puppets. \"It was interesting and kind of fun to do,\" Jim later said, \"but I wasn't really interested in puppetry then.\"\n\nBut whether Jim thought he might be done with television for the moment, he was too good\u2014too talented\u2014for television to be done with him. Unknown to Jim, during one of his _Saturday_ appearances, his performance had caught the eye of James Kovach, a program director from the local NBC affiliate, WRC-TV. Kovach had come to the WTOP studio with the hope of luring the versatile Meachum from channel 9 over to the higher-rated channel 4, but had also liked what he had seen of Meachum's young puppeteer. Meachum declined Kovach's offer to jump ship\u2014but weeks later, with _Saturday_ facing cancellation and Jim facing unemployment, Meachum phoned Kovach and enthusiastically encouraged him to find a place for Jim over at NBC.\n\nThe offer was unexpected, and seemingly out of nowhere\u2014and Jim jumped at it, though he was still put through a brief audition before Kovach formally offered him the job. \"I took the puppets over to NBC,\" Jim recalled, \"and they started putting me on these little local shows,\" mostly performing in short segments alongside WRC in-house talent like Mike Hunnicutt, a jovial former radio personality with a loopy sense of humor. Hunnicutt would stammer and giggle his way through sketches in a manner much like Red Skelton, and Jim adored him, often hanging around to watch the host banter with technicians long after the cameras went dark.\n\nAnother show to feature Jim's puppetry\u2014though he had been hired first as a set designer\u2014was a weekend children's show called _Circle 4 Ranch_ , hosted by Joe Campbell, a singing cowboy who told stories of frontier heroes and folklore between snippets of old westerns. When the show was lengthened from thirty minutes to a full hour in the fall of 1954, Campbell was anxious to fill the additional time with skits and songs, and thought it might be interesting to add puppets to chat with, in the same way Buffalo Bob Smith interacted with his marionette costars on NBC's powerhouse kids' show _Howdy Doody_. That suggestion sparked an idea in _Circle 4_ director and producer Bob Porter, who introduced to Campbell the \"scrawny teenager\" laboring in set design Porter had seen performing puppets with other WRC personalities. \"The three of us had lunch and decided how to proceed,\" Campbell recalled. \"Jim agreed to make some puppets that I had in mind.\" Campbell provided Jim with a drawing of two cowboys he called Longhorn and Shorthorn, which he asked Jim to build and perform for the show. Sadly, Campbell's show would only last another six months\u2014yet Campbell would soon come to play an important, somewhat controversial, and largely unknown role in the creation of the Muppets.\n\nBy his own account, Jim would work solo for the next eight months\u2014Russell Wall, as far as anyone could remember, left the area after graduation\u2014making random appearances on various NBC shows as needed, usually lip-synching his puppets to records. In the meantime, he was attending the University of Maryland full-time, while still living at home, less than two miles from campus. With Paul Henson, Sr., as a role model, as well as the active enthusiasm for knowledge shown by his extended family, education\u2014or perhaps more particularly, _learning_ \u2014was something that would always be important to Jim, and he took school seriously, maintaining a B average. He continued his active involvement in drama and theater, again discovering that he preferred the technical aspects and the behind-the-scenes maneuverings to the onstage performing. \"I was very interested in theatre, mostly in stage design,\" Jim said. \"I did a little bit of acting [in] the first year of college and then fairly soon thereafter I settled into the backstage scenery.\"\n\nFor most of his college career, then, Jim would design and build sets. He would serve as the University Theater's publicity director for several years, and just as he had for Northwestern's drama department, he designed and printed posters for student drama productions and other university events. He would, in fact, turn his talent for silkscreen posters into a side business, running a print shop out of the university's student union building.\n\nHe also quickly became aware that the university's college of fine arts wasn't where he wanted to be. \"My first year I started off planning to major in art because I was interested in theater design, stage design or television design,\" Jim said later. \"But at that particular college, the advertising, art, costume design, interior design, layout\u2014all of that stuff was part of Home Economics, for some strange reason.... And puppetry was a course that was given there that was also in Home Economics.\"\n\nThe Home Economics department\u2014or Practical Arts, as it came to be called\u2014was no haven for aspiring homemakers, as it was so often derisively described. Instead, it housed a wide variety of art and education programs, including several commercial art courses coveted by those wanting to be advertising executives. As Jim soon discovered, there was another reason, more prurient than academic, to switch to Home Economics. \"[My] puppetry teacher said, you switch over to Home Economics, you don't have to take all of the math and sciences that you do in Fine Arts, so you can take more art courses,\" Jim recalled. \"So I switched over to Home Economics on that basis and also ended up in classes [where] I think there were about six guys and 500 girls. Oh, it was marvelous!\"\n\nOne of those five hundred girls was a twenty-year-old art and education major named Jane Nebel, now in the first semester of her senior year. Artsy and talented and with a dry sense of humor as edgy as Jim's was playful, Jane was versatile in arts and crafts\u2014and, as Jim would soon discover, a capable puppeteer.\n\nBorn in St. Albans, Queens, on June 16, 1934, Jane was the third and youngest child of Winifred and Adalbert Nebel, an insurance salesman with an interest in astrology. Shortly after Jane was born, however, Adalbert\u2014who, as Jane remembered, always \"had a bit of a temper\"\u2014abruptly quit his job at the insurance company and found himself without work at the height of the Depression. Jane's practical-minded mother\u2014who had been perfectly happy living as the wife of an insurance man\u2014firmly reminded her husband of their mortgage and three children and insisted Adalbert find work immediately, despite the hard economic conditions that made jobs scarce.\n\nDutifully, Adalbert took odd jobs, selling cosmetics and stocking candy machines, while taking astrology classes in the evenings. Money continued to be scarce, but Adalbert would always manage to earn one reprieve after another from the family's softhearted landlord by displaying a remarkable flair for the dramatic that his daughter would inherit. After learning the landlord was on his way over to collect the rent, Adalbert would meticulously place Jane on her mother's lap and dress her brother in his finest clothes, brushing the boy's hair until it shone. He would then answer the door, making certain to open it far enough to allow the landlord to see Mrs. Nebel and the children, looking every inch the picture-perfect storybook family\u2014and quite impossible for the sympathetic landlord to eject into the street over back rent.\n\nEventually, Adalbert became experienced enough at astrology to earn his living as an astrologer, adopting the professional persona of Dal Lee and becoming well known as the editor of the popular and highly successful publications _Astrology Guide_ and _Your Personal Astrology_. As Dal Lee, Adalbert loved writing the editorials for his magazines, his two-finger typing clattering away loudly at all hours of the night. To Jane, awakened by the noise, it was one of the most reassuring sounds in the world. \"I could depend on going downstairs at two in the morning and having a good talk with him,\" she said. Jane adored their conversations, and while she never became a strong believer in astrology, she did come to appreciate their shared stubborn streak and wickedly skeptical sense of humor. _Listen to what_ _people have to say_ , Adalbert told his daughter, _even if what they're saying may not be true_.\n\nAs a teenager, Jane moved to Salisbury, Maryland, in the state's Eastern Shore region, but spent the next several years more than three hundred miles away in a boarding school in Lexington, Virginia. While Jane referred to her own grades as \"not so great,\" with her Maryland residency they were sound enough for admittance to the University of Maryland in 1951. Enrolling as a practical art major, Jane had initially chosen the arts and crafts program under the Home Economics department, then moved to the College of Education to become an art education major. As part of that particular curriculum, students were still required to take classes from the arts and crafts program\u2014including puppetry.\n\nThe puppetry course at the University of Maryland was a new addition to the Home Economics curriculum\u2014so new, in fact, that the university hadn't yet hired a teacher who could be said to be a proficient puppeteer. Instead, the job had fallen to Ed Longley, a young teacher out of New York's Columbia University. At the time of his hiring, the university had informed Longley\u2014a master silversmith who taught jewelry making\u2014that teaching the new puppetry course would be a condition of his employment in the Home Economics department. \"He was a very good guy,\" Jane said, \"but he didn't know puppetry.\" As a result, Longley was still feeling his way in the fall of 1954, working with a class composed mostly of seniors\u2014and mostly women\u2014none of whom had ever taken a puppetry course, but who were now using the class to complete their coursework before graduation and looking to Longley for guidance.\n\nGuidance they would get\u2014but not necessarily from Longley.\n\nHeads turned when Jim Henson entered Longley's classroom in the autumn of 1954. He walked, Jane remembered, \"like Abe Lincoln,\" flat-footed with long strides. And while the fashionably short pea coat he wore that winter made his legs look longer and lankier than usual, it wasn't his height that raised eyebrows; it was his youth. \"Most of us had known each other for quite a few years,\" Jane said. And to a class full of seasoned seniors, a freshman, barely eighteen years old, was regarded as little more than an interloper. Yet Jim carried himself with confidence; he had grown up just down the road from the university, making this essentially home territory. Further, while Jim had been performing puppets on television for less than a year, that was still more practical puppetry experience than anyone, including Longley, could claim. In no time at all, recalled Jane, \"Jim took over the class.\"\n\nFor one of the major projects that semester, Longley divided his class into two groups and asked them to write, perform, and build all the puppets and props for two shows, one using hand puppets, and the other using marionettes. While Jim was in the hand puppet group, he eagerly suggested the marionette group adapt a favorite story of his, James Thurber's fairy tale _The 13 Clocks_ , about a wily prince who, with the help of a clever, enigmatic character called the Golux, outwits the coldhearted duke for the hand of the duke's daughter. In his own group, Jim eagerly wrote the script and oversaw the puppet building and set design. Jane remembers being \"totally impressed\" with the way Jim worked. \"He'd just look at the situation, and look at what he thought needed to be done,\" said Jane, \"and he'd just do it.\" On the day of the show, Jane performed the role of the Golux in the marionette group, giving a performance so nimble that Jim was impressed. So impressed, in fact, that Jim decided to ask for her assistance.\n\nIn early 1955, WRC program director James Kovach and director Carl Degen were putting together a new variety program called _Afternoon_ that would air daily at 2:15 on WRC. \"Back in those days in television,\" Jim said, \"most local stations had a midday show for housewives that had a series of things. It was like a variety show for midday.\" Kovach had at the helm two reliable personalities; besides Mac McGarry, a bespectacled local disc jockey and television announcer getting his first real on-camera break, there was also an enthusiastic twenty-one-year-old American University student named Willard Scott, feeling his way years before finding fame on the _Today_ show. But Kovach wanted something new and different to add to the mix, and recommended to Degen that they hire Jim to join the _Afternoon_ lineup. As Jim later described it, \"They would have a cooking segment, they'd have news, they'd have a local combo, and they'd do fashion shows with models, so it was a fairly large operation\u2014and we were part of that.\"\n\n_Afternoon_ debuted on WRC on Monday, March 7, 1955\u2014a significant date in that it not only marks the true beginning of Jim and Jane's professional partnership, but also because of the following notice, which appeared under the \"TV Highlights\" section of _The Washington Post and Times Herald:_\n\n2:15 P.M.\u2014 **Afternoon: A new variety program features Mac McGarry and Willard Scott as co-hosts; fashion information from Inga; music by Mel Clement Quartet; vocals by Jack Maggio; and special features by the Muppets, who are puppeteers**.\n\nThis is the first time the term _Muppets_ appears in print, helpfully but incorrectly glossed by a copy editor at the _Post_ , who applied the term to Jim and Jane rather than to the puppets. At age eighteen, Jim had already coined the term that would become his legacy, his own brand, as indelibly linked to his name as Microsoft with Bill Gates or, perhaps more appropriately, Walt Disney with Mickey Mouse.\n\nInterestingly, Jim was already using the term _Muppet_ as early as December 1954, while working for Joe Campbell at _Circle 4 Ranch_. After receiving two cowboy puppets he had asked Jim to build, Campbell scrawled out a receipt, using the back of a cue sheet for the December 18, 1954, installment of _Circle 4 Ranch_. The receipt granted Campbell, for the cost of one dollar, \"51% ownership of muppetts [ _sic_ ] known as 'Shorthorn' and 'Longhorn.' \" Further, a number of acetate disc soundtracks prerecorded by Campbell for Jim's puppets to perform to\u2014some dating as far back as November 10, 1954\u2014were labeled by studio engineers with stickers reading \"Campbell Muppets\" or \"Circle 4 Muppets.\" Clearly, then, the term _Muppets_ \u2014with or without an extraneous T\u2014was already in use at that time.\n\n\"It was really just a term we made up,\" Jim admitted later. \"For a long time I would tell people it was a combination of marionettes and puppets, but, basically, it was really just a word that we coined,\" he added, pointing out correctly that, \"we have done very few things connected with marionettes.\"\n\nCould something else have inspired the term, though? It's possible that _muppet_ was a play on the word _moppet_ , a term for a small child. Dating back to the seventeenth century\u2014and likely tracing its origins to the word _moppe_ , a Middle English word for rag doll\u2014the word was cutesy and archaic, even in 1955. But it was also a word Jim Henson, along with nearly every newspaper reader in Hyattsville, would have seen practically every day\u2014for running on channel 5 each weekday from 6:00 to 7:00 P.M. was _Hoppity Skippity with Moppet Movies_ , a local children's show that had been a fixture in the D.C. area since 1948. Given that it was broadcast during the dinner hour, it is likely that Jim was familiar with it. But whether Jim ever watched the show, he would certainly have seen its name as he scanned the television listings in the newspaper.\n\nIt takes no real stretch of the imagination, then, to picture Jim\u2014perhaps trying to come up with a catchy name for the puppets he was handing over to Campbell\u2014coming across the word _moppets_ and, with a mere change of a vowel, almost magically blending the words _puppet_ and _moppet_. Like _grackle_ , it was one of those words that already sounded like it should mean something. Whether intentional or not, the association with the word _moppet_ is serendipitous, as the childlike innocence of the Muppets would, to Jim, always be one of their most endearing qualities. \"As I try to zero in on what's important for the Muppets,\" Jim said years later, \"I think it's a sense of innocence, naivet\u00e9\u2014you know, the experience of a simple person meeting life.\"\n\nThe newly christened Muppets, as part of the _Afternoon_ lineup, would be going out live over the air each day, and Jim and Jane were expected to come prepared with new pieces to perform. There was little time for rehearsals from one show to another, but Jim\u2014as he would for the rest of his life\u2014seemed to thrive on the spontaneous, seat-of-the-pants performing. According to host Mac McGarry, Jim was able to work out his routines \"just by sitting down and thinking for a few minutes.\"\n\nAs its talented cast began to learn to play off of each other's strengths, _Afternoon_ quickly built a following. _Washington Post_ reviewer Lawrence Laurent elegantly described the show as \"integrated chaos,\" which seemed to be the kind of atmosphere in which Jim would flourish. But looking back, Jim wasn't happy with what he called his \"little entertainment pieces,\" which mostly involved having the Muppets lip-synch to novelty records. \"The work I did in those days is not stuff that I'm creatively very proud of,\" Jim said later. \"That stuff was really experimenting and it was just stuff that I did as a lark. I was going to college and so I was doing this and it was a way of working my way through school.\"\n\nJim was so uncertain about his performance, in fact, that he approached a WRC reporter who was rumored to have an inside line with Kovach and asked \"in his stumbling unsure way\" if the reporter could talk with Kovach about getting Jim a job with the floor crew. The reporter\u2014or so the story goes\u2014told Jim to stick with his Muppets and \"get very rich.\"\n\nThe _Afternoon_ crew were dazzled not only by the Muppets, but by their quiet, unassuming creator. \"Jim Henson was a very nice young guy. Thoughtful. Obviously a genius in the making,\" remembered host Mac McGarry. \"Everybody loved his characters.... He subdued his own being and made his characters come to life. It was not too long on the show before I realized I was not talking to Jim Henson. These characters were there, independently. They have their own being.\" But it was _Afternoon_ producer-director Carl Degen who most neatly summed up the consensus around the studio: \"The kid is positively a genius,\" Degen told _The Washington Post_. \"He's absolutely amazing.\"\n\nAs Jane recalled, she and Jim were originally put on _Afternoon_ \"to do spots for children. But we were college students amusing ourselves, and we did these wild things with the puppets, lip-synching to Stan Freberg records\u2014like his takeoff on 'Banana Boat'\u2014and things like that.\" The madcap recordings of Stan Freberg were, in fact, a favorite not only of Jim's, but also of other performers and sometime puppeteers like Soupy Sales, who often used Freberg's songs for his puppets Pookie and Hippie to clown to. Freberg had a sense of humor very similar to Jim's, as both adored bad puns, non sequiturs, deadpan delivery of a punch line, and silly songs. But what made Freberg's records especially useful was that his recordings were fully realized routines\u2014three frantic minutes filled with jokes, sound effects, conversations, and commentary that made them perfect for several Muppets to lip-synch and perform to.\n\nOther times, Jim would choose tamer and more straightforward material, like contemporary songs, which made for routines that were often funnier than those using novelty records simply because Jim would make them so waggishly ridiculous\u2014dressing characters in wigs, concluding the songs with an explosion, or having one creature devour another, just the kind of absurd ending Jim loved. \"We very often would take a song and do strange things to it... that nobody could understand,\" Jim said. \"I always enjoyed those!\" Looking back, Jane, too, could only shrug and laugh. \"I guess it had a quality of abandon and nonsense and of being somewhat experimental,\" she said. _Afternoon_ 's music director Mel Clement\u2014who remembered absolutely \"falling down\" with laughter at the Muppet sketches\u2014was impressed. \"Those kids,\" Clement said admiringly of Jim and Jane, \"knocked us all out.\"\n\nThey were knocking out plenty of others, too. In the spring of 1955, after a little less than two months of performing on _Afternoon_ , Jim and Jane were offered the chance to create their own five-minute show on WRC, in a prime piece of TV real estate: 11:25 P.M., the five-minute slot between the local evening news and the _Tonight_ show with Steve Allen. \"A choice time slot,\" Jane remarked.\n\nIt was indeed\u2014one that Jim would make the most of. The Muppets were on their way.\n\n# **CHAPTER THREE**\n\n#\n\n# _SAM AND FRIENDS_  \n1955\u20131957\n\n_Jim with the cast of_ Sam and Friends, _1961_. (photo credit 3.1)\n\nON MONDAY, MAY 9, 1955, NINE WEEKS TO THE DAY AFTER THE DEBUT of _Afternoon_ , Jim and Jane's five-minute romp _Sam and Friends_ premiered on WRC-TV. There was actually little fanfare; there was no brief mention in the \"TV Highlights\" section, as had marked _Afternoon_ 's first appearance, only a single word inserted after the hyper-abbreviated TV listings for WRC's 11:00 P.M. news broadcast with anchorman Richard Harkness: \"Harkness; Wthr. Sports; Muppets.\"\n\nDespite its initial quiet appearance in the TV listings, there was nothing calm or serene about _Sam and Friends_. Unshackled from _Afternoon_ 's variety show format, Jim and Jane were free to create their own manic world for their Muppets, giving them their own slightly skewed reality. For their Muppet cast, Jim turned to the growing collection of Muppets he had built, many of which he had already been using on _Afternoon_. For his new show's point man, Jim had decided on Sam, a bald, bulb-nosed human character, with knobby ears that stuck straight out from his head and wide-open eyes that gave him a perpetually surprised look. \"I made him originally to use with Phil Harris records,\" Jim said, \"but he proved the most popular Muppet of all. That gave us the idea for _Sam and Friends_.\"\n\nThe \"Friends\" of _Sam and Friends_ , however, were more abstract, hazily defined and colorfully named: Harry the Hipster, a snakelike beatnik in sunglasses; Yorick, a prune-colored, skull-like creature that was _id_ incarnate; the beak-nosed Hank and Frank; the squashed-looking Mushmellon. Considerable thought had gone into both the concept of the show and the design of the Muppet cast. The title was no mere throwaway; there was actual method to the show's madness. At its core, _Sam and Friends_ was all about the quiet, amiable Sam making his way through life with the help of his Friends\u2014\"abstract companions\" who egg him on, move him forward, and encourage him through their own loony behavior, even if that behavior was still nothing more than lip-synching to records. The Friends, while real to Sam and to viewers, explained Jane, \"are actually within him, within Sam.\" A rather high-brow conceit for a show that got its biggest laughs from characters exploding, but it was typical Jim: even a five-minute comedy romp, no matter how absurd, had to mean _something_.\n\nThere was another abstract Muppet in Sam's cast who, while still only relegated to mostly small parts\u2014and usually getting devoured at the end\u2014already had a special place in Jim's heart. It was a puppet Jim had built while passing several long sad days tending to his grandfather Pop, who was slowly dying of heart failure\u2014a puppet that, even early on, Jim would always call his favorite.\n\nIt was a milky blue character named Kermit.\n\nMaury Brown had always been frail\u2014his daughters remember him demanding quiet in the house to ease his nerves\u2014and in 1955, a doctor had insisted that he and Dear move from their two-story home on Marion Street into a smaller, single-story apartment. The move had depressed Pop\u2014\"he intended to die in that house\" on Marion Street, Attie said\u2014and his health had deteriorated rapidly, as Pop grew increasingly senile even as his heart failed. Jim was shaken by the impending death of his grandfather\u2014he had, after all, been partly named for him\u2014but Jim would do as he always did in the face of grief: he would build and create. Foraging for any suitable materials, Jim settled on his mother's old felt coat, and as he leaned over the table in the Hensons' living room he sewed a simple puppet body, with a slightly pointed face, out of the faded turquoise material. For eyes, he simply glued two halves of a Ping-Pong ball\u2014with slashed circles carefully inked in black on each\u2014to the top of the head. That was it. From the simplest of materials\u2014and, perhaps appropriately, from a determination to bring a bit of order from darkness\u2014Kermit was born.\n\nThose who knew Jim as a boy would often wonder if he had named his most famous creation after his childhood friend Kermit Scott. The answer\u2014according to both Jim and Kermit Scott\u2014was no. The name Kermit, while quirky, was by no means uncommon in 1955; President Theodore Roosevelt had named his second son Kermit in 1889, which made the name somewhat faddish in the first half of the twentieth century. To Jim, though, as with _grackle_ or _Muppet_ , it was all about the sound of the word; with its hard K, pressed M, and snapped T, the name Kermit was memorable and fairly funny.\n\nAs a relatively no-frills puppet, Kermit was the epitome of elegant simplicity, which made him that much more fun for Jim to play with. \"Kermit started out as a way of building, putting a mouth and covering over my hand,\" Jim later explained. \"There was nothing in Kermit outside of the piece of cardboard\u2014it was originally cardboard\u2014and the cloth shape that was his head. He's one of the simplest kinds of puppet you can make, and he's very flexible because of that... which gives him a range of expression. A lot of people build very stiff puppets\u2014you can barely move the things\u2014and you can get very little expression out of a character that you can barely move. Your hand has a lot of flexibility to it, and what you want to do is to build a puppet that can reflect all that flexibility.\"\n\nIf Kermit was one of the most flexible of Muppets, one thing he was not\u2014at least not yet\u2014was a frog. While it is nearly impossible for viewers today to watch Kermit on _Sam and Friends_ and think of him as anything but a frog, viewers in 1955 saw him as simply another of the silly supporting cast. Oddly colored\u2014\"milky turquoise\" Jim called it\u2014with padded oval feet, Kermit was still as vague a being as the fuzzy Mushmellon, or the wide-mouthed Moldy Hay. \"I didn't call him a frog,\" Jim said. \"All the characters in those days were abstract because that was part of the principle that I was working under, that you wanted abstract things.\"\n\nFor Jim, that abstraction was also, in some ways, an exciting way of challenging his audience\u2014of making them an active part of the performance. \"Those abstract characters I still feel are slightly more pure,\" Jim later explained. \"If you take a character and you call him a frog... you immediately give the audience a handle. You're assisting the audience to understand; you're giving them a bridge or an access. And if you don't give them that, if you keep it more abstract, it's almost more pure. It's a cooler thing. It's a difference of sort of warmth and cool.\"\n\nIt wasn't only their abstract quality that made Jim's Muppets\u2014and _Sam and Friends_ \u2014unlike anything on television. Until Jim and the Muppets, puppetry on TV had essentially looked like filmed puppet shows\u2014on _Kukla, Fran and Ollie_ , for instance, Burr Tillstrom performed his puppets while standing behind a puppet stage, poking his characters out underneath a gauzy curtain as he stood concealed behind the proscenium. Jim had sometimes performed in a similar manner on _Afternoon_ , squatting down behind low walls or maneuvering puppets up through openings in sets when the show required the Muppets to interact with the human cast members. But that was really still just a puppet show on television, and not a puppet _television_ show.\n\nLike Ernie Kovacs before him, who understood that a mutual tilt of the camera and the set could playfully manipulate an audience's perception, Jim, too, was intuitively aware that he could use the eye of the camera\u2014and the four sides of a home viewer's television screen\u2014to create his own reality. Now that there was no need for his Muppets to coexist with live actors, Jim saw that no puppet theater was needed at all\u2014that, in fact, the space between the four sides of the TV screen _was_ his puppet theater. Jim had learned Kovacs's lesson well; namely, a television audience can only see what you choose for it to see. No walls were needed to conceal the puppeteer when he or she could kneel down just out of sight of the camera, giving the Muppets the entire viewing area in which to perform and exist.\n\nBut Jim understood that it went even deeper than that. Jim knew that for all its technical prowess, the television camera is, in a sense, blind. It has no peripheral vision, and it doesn't get distracted by what's taking place just beyond the range of its lens. All it sees is what is visible through the eyepiece, no more, no less\u2014and Jim instinctively appreciated that if the eye of the camera defines your performance, then you'd better make certain you know exactly what the camera is seeing. The only way to do this, then, was to watch the performance on a television monitor.\n\nAt first, it was merely a matter of spot-checking their performance, making sure heads were out of sight and the Muppet was centered on a screen, similar to a habit Burr Tillstrom had developed on _Kukla, Fran and Ollie_ , where Tillstrom would often keep a TV placed off to one side to keep an eye on how his puppet theater looked on camera. Soon Jim and Jane had monitors placed in opposite corners of the studio, so no matter which way a performer was facing, a monitor was visible. Eventually, Jim had one small monitor placed on the floor directly in front of the performers, where he and Jane could closely scrutinize the performance from their knees. But Jim's approach to the use of the monitor differed from Tillstrom's in a significant way. For Tillstrom, the monitor was passive, merely relaying the performance, which remained confined by the puppet theater. But for Jim, the monitor _was_ the puppet theater\u2014as such, it _defined_ the performance.\n\nMoreover, using the monitor to watch themselves perform on screen made the show that much better. Unlike other television actors, who can't see their own performance as it happens, \"you can actually see what you are doing as you do it,\" Jim explained, \"and have the opportunity to modify your performance for better effect.\" It also allowed the puppeteer to share the viewing experience with the audience at home\u2014a dynamic Jane found particularly thrilling. \"You'd perform but you'd also be the audience,\" said Jane. \"I think that's a big difference, because the people at home watching are seeing a very intimate, internal thing that's happening with that performer.\"\n\nWhile the use of the monitor was a brilliant innovation, it required one real bit of mental gymnastics: since the performer is facing the camera, what he sees on the monitor in front of him is essentially his own image in reverse. So, while the performer might be moving a Muppet to his or her own left, on the television monitor, it moves to the right\u2014a bit of reverse orientation that takes some getting used to. But for Jim, the effort was worth it to get the performance exactly right. \"After you go through working with the monitor for a particular period of time,\" said Jim, \"then it's totally automatic and you never even think about it.\"\n\nNow that Jim had removed the need for a puppet theater\u2014and, through the use of the monitor, given the performer the ability to watch and modify his performance\u2014the Muppets themselves suddenly, almost magically, had a life of their own. In the eyes of the camera, it was as if they were simply actors being filmed. \"What Jim came to love right away was how convincing the reality is on a television screen,\" Jane said. \"It's not like going from a [puppet] stage at all; the reality was extraordinary.\" So long as Jim and Jane were careful to remain out of the shot, the Muppets could move freely anywhere in the viewing area, even approaching the camera\u2014and the audience\u2014for an intimate close-up, something that could _not_ happen with a traditional puppet theater. This was something brand-new: it was puppetry made expressly for the medium of television, making TV's strengths and weaknesses work for the performer.\n\nFor Jim, it had all been a matter of problem solving\u2014and his relative inexperience in both puppetry and television allowed him to look for solutions that might not have occurred to more seasoned performers, even when, as in the case of the television monitor, that solution was lying in plain sight. \"Many of the things I've done in my life have basically been self-taught,\" Jim admitted later. \"I had never worked with puppets... and even when I began on television, I really didn't know what I was doing. I'm sure this was a good thing, because I learned as I tackled each problem. I think if you study\u2014if you learn too much of what others have done\u2014you may tend to take the same direction as everybody else.\"\n\nThere was little danger of Jim doing that\u2014he was already too far ahead of everybody else. Still, for all his success and innovation, Jim was always respectful of the work of his predecessors in television. The differences in their approaches both to puppetry and the television medium, were, he thought, simply generational\u2014a matter of when you learned the craft and what media were available when you began performing. \"Burr Tillstrom and the Bairds had more to do with the beginning of puppetry on television than we did,\" Jim explained. \"But they had developed their art and style to a certain extent before hitting television.\"\n\nJim's puppets, however, were born in and made for the television generation\u2014and as such, they had to look good on TV. \"We pretty much had a form and a shape by that time\u2014a style,\" Jim said of his early days on television, \"and I think one of the advantages of not having any relationship to any other puppeteer was that it gave me a reason to put [the form and shapes of the Muppets] together myself for the needs of television.\" Jim would have no marionette strings in the shot, or painted wooden heads frozen into perpetual grins, breaking the illusion. With the TV camera allowing for close-ups, Jim wanted his puppets to breathe with a life of their own, with working mouths and hands, capable of expression and personality. \"Very early on we discovered what you could do with the flexibility of the faces,\" Jim said. \"It was a question of combining that with what you could do with the hand in order to get the expressions to work. Most puppeteers at that time still worked with absolutely rigid faces, and generally no expression at all, because\u2014before television\u2014puppets were generally meant to be seen at a distance of fifteen to twenty feet,\" he explained. \"I think we were among the first to design puppets specifically for television, where you're relating to the camera and working with what you can do with the face seen from very close.\" \"[They were] puppets that didn't look like puppets had _ever_ looked,\" recalled Muppet veteran Jerry Juhl. \"It was the mobility of the faces, and the total abstraction of them.... They were just _mind-blowing_ , certainly to puppeteers.\"\n\nWhile Sam was made of plastic wood\u2014and was, in Jim's hands, still remarkably expressive (so much so, in fact, that only three months after making his debut, Sam was named \"the most brilliant newcomer to the Washington scene\" by the TV critic at _The Sunday_ _Star_ )\u2014puppets made of nonpliable materials would quickly become the exception. Instead, Jim discovered that foam rubber was an ideal material for sculpting puppet heads, which he could then cover with fabric, fleece, or whatever else might be on hand, whether it was pieces of carpet, yarn, twine, or his mother's coat. This allowed for less clunky, more expressive puppets, giving the puppeteer the ability to turn in a performance\u2014through the tilt of the puppet's head, a slight elongation of the face, or a scrunching of the mouth\u2014that made the character that much more alive.\n\nJust as important, from his lifelong love of drawing and cartooning\u2014and perhaps with the lessons of his poster for _Nine Girls_ in mind\u2014Jim intuitively understood the critical importance of the placement of a character's eyes, as well as the location of the pupils in those eyes. Early on, Jim discovered that by almost imperceptibly crossing the eyes, he actually gave the eyes focus, giving his Muppets a look of keen attentiveness rather than a vacant stare.\n\nAs for the operation of a Muppet's hands, in the early years, Jim manipulated his characters' arms with long rods attached close to the Muppet's wrist, a device that owed more to the old-style rod puppets than to marionettes. It was simple but effective\u2014and it would be the template for the basic Muppet structure. Jim was not yet building \"live hand\" puppets in which he could move the mouth with his right hand and use his own left hand up inside the Muppet's left hand\u2014as he would with Muppets like Rowlf the Dog, or Ernie on _Sesame Street_ \u2014likely because with only him and Jane performing, they often needed to work with a Muppet on each arm.\n\nBut what work it was. Left on their own now, Jim and Jane put together a madcap four-minute show\u2014the last minute was left to sponsors like Esskay meats\u2014that was over much too quickly for D.C. audiences (\"It was so short that it was over as soon as it began!\" was a typical lament). According to Jim, the name of the game on the early _Sam and Friends_ was still pantomiming and lip-synching to comedy records and novelty songs, which Jim raided from the WRC music library or plumbed from his own extensive collection\u2014by his own count, he had over five hundred records. The lip-synching approach meant that Jim did not have to provide voices for any of his Muppets\u2014something he was still nervous about doing\u2014and it was also, as Jim said, \"a way that one could do entertaining pieces rather safely and easily.\"\n\nActually, it _wasn't_ always easy. Jim had worked hard to perfect his lip-synching technique, figuring out quickly that there was more to lip-synching than mere timing. Jane compared it to pushing the words out of the puppet's mouth, rather than snapping the mouth open and closed, \"like catching flies\"\u2014a habit that often plagued even an experienced performer like Burr Tillstrom, who often opened and closed Ollie's mouth with an audible _clack_. Jim would practice in front of a mirror, sometimes for hours, working to master little nuances, like moving the puppet slightly forward and down as it spoke, and opening the mouth by moving his thumb rather than his fingers, which looked more natural and less like the Muppet's head was coming unhinged and flapping open backward.\n\nJim also thrived on collaboration\u2014and so did Jane. If Jim was the energy and brilliance of the act, then Jane was the ideal performing partner, responding to and interacting with Jim's characters naturally and intuitively. She also had a masterful sense of comic timing, and Jim continually encouraged her performances with his own sense of fun and camaraderie\u2014a liberating combination that would similarly inspire other colleagues and collaborators in the years to come.\n\nThe two of them worked so well together, in fact, that he was determined to keep their professional partnership going even after her graduation from the University of Maryland in 1955. Jane enrolled in a master's program in art at Catholic University in Washington, D.C., that fall, but promised Jim she would continue their work together, tweaking her own course load to accommodate their filming for _Afternoon_ each day, and _Sam and Friends_ each night\u2014no small sacrifice.\n\nBesides Jane, another graduate of the University of Maryland that year was Jim's brother, Paul. It had taken Paul an additional year to complete his studies, due to a brief two semesters at Principia, a school for Christian Scientists in Elsah, Illinois, but in June 1955, Paul received his bachelor's degree in mathematics. Now engaged to be married, Paul had decided on a career as a navy pilot, and would be commissioned in October 1955. From there, he would be stationed in Florida to undergo training, on his way to his lifelong dream of becoming a pilot.\n\nAs the Muppets grew in popularity, Jim was being asked to make appearances on more and more local shows\u2014and as he began his sophomore year in autumn 1955, Jim was astonished at the money he was being paid. \"When I first started working, it was $5 a show,\" Jim said later. \"It was probably a little higher by the time I got to my own show, but I remember that they put me under contract at $100 a week, which to me was really an astronomical price.\"\n\nIt was indeed. At a time when most college students were making a minimum wage of seventy-five cents an hour busing tables or pumping gas, nineteen-year-old Jim Henson was being paid roughly $5,200 a year to perform on television\u2014the equivalent of about $40,000 today. Jim was expected, however, to use that money to design, build, and paint all his Muppets and the sets for _Sam and Friends_ \u2014an obligation that never bothered him one bit. \"I was a kid and it was fun,\" Jim said with a shrug. \"And also there wasn't much money in television in those days anyhow.\" When he was finished with his sets, Jim was happy to spend what money was left over on friends and family, purchasing a color television and a brand-new electric organ for his mother. There would be no more puffing at the pump organ for Betty Henson.\n\nWhile the Muppets were gaining a following and their creator was earning a considerable amount of money, Jim remained unfazed by the attention and income. Those who knew Jim only through his work on _Sam and Friends_ were often surprised to learn, on meeting him in person, that the creator of the manic Muppets was actually a soft-spoken, gentlemanly young man who was still called Jimmy by friends and family. But looking closer, it was also easy to see the twinkle in the eye and the slight grin that gave away the madcap sense of humor. \"He had a warm glow,\" remembered Rudy Pugliese, who taught drama at the University of Maryland. \"He's just looking at everyone to see what kind of humor he can find in them.... His wit was very apparent, very sharp and very clever. And it appeared more clever because of his shyness.... He had charisma, a warmth that made you comfortable when talking to him.\" And it was during one of their regular talks, Pugliese admitted later, that he asked Jim, \"Why are you wasting your time with those puppets?\"\n\nWhile Jim never considered his work a waste, it was, nevertheless, a question he had often asked himself. \"All the time I was in school, I didn't take puppetry seriously,\" Jim said. \"I mean, it didn't seem to be the sort of thing a grown man works at for a living.\" Rather, it was a placeholder until a better opportunity came along. Just as an aspiring college journalist might take a summer job writing obituaries hoping that the experience and connections will lead to a permanent, proper press job, so, too, did Jim continue to view the Muppets as a preface to what he considered a real job in television, whether it was art and stage design, direction, or production. \"I had assumed at that point that I would probably end up in scenic design or advertising art,\" he said.\n\n_Sam and Friends_ continued to gain a following, but in the summer of 1955, WRC\u2014never one to be content with a good thing\u2014began to fidget with its late evening lineup, and announced that it was canceling _Sam and Friends_. To Jim's surprise and delight, angry phone calls and letters poured into WRC studios, and WRC executives immediately backtracked, putting _Sam_ back on the air after missing only one night. Still, as the _Evening Star_ was quick to point out, it was only a partial victory, since Sam would now air only three nights a week instead of five. \"Don't be too grateful to WRC,\" sniffed the _Star_. \"Just nod politely.\"\n\nEven the three nights wouldn't last long, as a twitchy WRC bounced its newscast from 11:00 to 10:00 P.M., then back again. Jim moved with it at first, performing each evening at 10:25, until mid-October when WRC inexplicably handed _Sam and Friends_ ' evening time slot over to guitar virtuoso Les Paul and his wife, Mary Ford. For the next seven months or so, then, Jim would devote his time mostly to _Afternoon_ , where he had proven his ability to draw viewers. Wisely, Sam would be featured prominently in WRC's newspaper ads, grinning from the pages of _The Washington Post_ to promote the station's afternoon lineup. Even with Sam's shifting schedule, Jim was delighted with all he had accomplished.\n\nThen, in the spring of 1956, tragedy struck.\n\nOn Sunday, April 15, 1956, Jim's brother, Paul\u2014now serving as an ensign in the U.S. Navy and undergoing his pilot training in Pensacola, Florida\u2014was riding in a car with two other young men when the driver suddenly lost control. The car veered off the road and rolled four times, instantly killing the driver and critically injuring Paul Henson. After receiving the phone call informing them of the accident, Betty and Paul Henson, Sr., sped for Florida, but too late: twenty-three-year-old Paul Henson, Jr., passed away later that afternoon.\n\nFor the Henson family, it was a devastating loss. While there was some solace to be found through Christian Science\u2014in the belief that spiritual development actively continues even after death, and that death is simply another state in which a person may attain the love of God\u2014Betty Henson \"never got over\" Paul's death. The silly, joking Betty Henson\u2014the one who would pour milk to overflowing\u2014was still pleasant and loving, but her family\u2014including Jim\u2014always thought a part of her died along with Paul. As much as he might try, Jim would never really get over Paul's death, either\u2014and for the rest of his life, during quiet moments, Jim would often remark that he still missed Paul terribly. Unlike Betty, however, Jim would channel his sorrow into silliness, his anxiety into art.\n\nPartly, it was a typically Henson way of coping; just as Dear had rarely allowed discussion of the suicide of her father, Oscar, the Hensons simply soldiered on, remaining pleasant and sociable, and rarely speaking of Paul's death with outsiders. \"The way of carrying on would be to keep a smile on your face\" said one Henson family member. \"The idea of being sociable, and conversational, and fun in conversation, is very highly valued.\" In fact, one of the highest compliments a Henson could administer would be to declare that someone was \"good company.\" For Jim, then, art was part of his way of carrying on, of being good company.\n\nBut Paul's death was, to Jim, more than just the sense of loss. Suddenly, the nineteen-year-old who already seemed to work harder than everyone else was aware that the clock was ticking. Years later, Jim's oldest daughter, Lisa, would speak of Jim's sorrow as an almost \"repressed sadness\" that motivated Jim's work. \"He shared so much with his brother as a young kid, and then to have that survivor crisis\u2014thinking, 'Now I have to be him and me'\u2014and he had rocket fuel in his career from then on.\" Said Jim's friend and longtime collaborator Frank Oz, \"When his brother died, he felt like he maybe didn't have enough time. Not like he was feeling his mortality or a premonition that he would die young or anything like that\u2014but he realized that he just didn't have an infinite amount of time to do all the things he wanted to do.\"\n\nAs he had done at the time of Pop's death a year earlier, Jim turned to work for release, applying himself\u2014if that was possible\u2014even harder. \"His intention of working [was] probably increased by Paul's death,\" said Jane Henson. \"And I think he was very aware that he then became the only child and was responsible to be not only what he was going to be, but what Paul would have been as well. And it was heavy on him.\" There would always be, said Jane, a touch of \"sublime, sweet melancholy\" in Jim's work.\n\nMelancholy wasn't necessarily a bad thing. For Jim, whose Christian Science faith had been tinted and colored by his own creative enthusiasm and singular sense of humor, there was \"a rightness\" in the ups and downs in life, a comfort in the consistency of its joys and sorrows. While Paul's death may have driven Jim to work harder than ever and make the most of his own life, it may also have helped Jim to more fully clarify and appreciate his own unique outlook on our existence. \"I believe that we form our own lives, that we create our own reality, and that everything works out for the best,\" Jim said later. \"I know I drive some people crazy with what seems to be ridiculous optimism, but it has always worked out for me.\" Jim's optimism and enthusiasm for life, even in the face of hardship or sadness, would remain one of his most endearing and inspiring qualities.\n\nWorking out from under the shadow of Paul's death that summer, Jim's \"ridiculous optimism\" would be justified\u2014for professionally, things were suddenly working out for the best. WRC was continuing to tinker with its scheduling, this time fiddling with its afternoon lineup, and had decided to cancel _Afternoon_. However, unlike the previous winter, when Jim had forfeited his time slot to another, the producers had worked overtime to find a new way to spotlight Jim's talents.\n\nIn May 1956, the Muppets were made a regular part of the newest incarnation of the WRC staple _Footlight Theatre_ , serving as supporting players to guitar strummer Paul Arnold, who was expected to keep things moving between installments of banal singing cowboy films like _Rainbow over the Rockies_ (\"that whole Footlight Theatre was _so_ contrived,\" Jane groaned). That usually involved bantering with Sam and the Muppets, who, truth be told, were probably attracting more viewers than Arnold. But Jim collaborated with the versatile Arnold with typical gusto, even adding a new member to the Muppet cast, a vaguely camel-like pirate named Omar, whom Arnold voiced. Jim worked hard that spring, rehearsing and performing for _Footlight Theatre_ , making public appearances with the Muppets, and continuing to run his silkscreen poster business out of the student union building at the University of Maryland. The work continued to pay dividends. In 1956, the car lover finally purchased a gorgeous, gleaming sports car of his very own, the first of many sleek-lined cars Jim would own in his lifetime.\n\nWhen it came to cars, Jim's love was practically genetic: Jim's great-uncle Fritz\u2014one of Dear's fun-loving younger brothers\u2014was also a car fanatic, and had purchased a car in the early 1920s without even knowing how to drive. (\"He just drove it home,\" laughed Betty Henson, who had tagged along. \"It was a wild ride!\") Even Betty had the car bug, as she had been the first of the Browns to purchase a car, buying \"a little gray box\" the year before she married Paul Henson. Jim's particular affinity, going all the way back to his tinkering days in Leland, was for sports cars, the more streamlined the better\u2014and in 1956, Jim snagged a gleaming white 1956 convertible Thunderbird. It wasn't his first car; he had previously owned a Ford, but that car had been purely functional, where this was a thing of beauty, low-slung with whitewall tires and fender vents, and Jim adored it. A photo from the time shows Jim parked in his driveway in Hyattsville, sitting in the car with Sam, pointing gleefully at something off-camera as Sam responds enthusiastically. Jane said Jim's family, always one of his best audiences, was probably looking on cheering. \"After all,\" she added, \"Sam had made it all possible.\"\n\nAlmost immediately, Jim decided to take an extended road trip across the country, piling into the Thunderbird with Joe Irwin and a week's worth of clean clothes for what turned out to be a three-week trip. Jim loved driving, and he especially loved driving without any schedule or destination. During the day, he and Joe would split the time behind the wheel, speeding across the countryside with the top down until their sunburned noses peeled, then all night as the mountains of Albuquerque or Las Vegas loomed up against the stars. Jim took great delight in stopping when anything caught his attention, which was just as likely to be an oddly worded sign as it was an unusually gnarled tree. \"He posed himself beside these signs,\" said Irwin later, laughing. During a stop near the Grand Canyon, Jim had himself photographed blatantly disregarding a sign reading Stay On Trail, while outside the Triangle X Ranch in Wyoming, Jim posed himself against a sign advertising the Dude For Day Ranch, standing with one leg forward and one hand cocked on his hip, and looking\u2014despite his loafers and collared shirt\u2014every inch a gunslinger.\n\nReturning to Maryland later that summer, Jim was thrilled to hear the news that his hard work was getting noticed beyond the D.C. region. In New York, producers for Steve Allen's _Tonight_ show were hearing more and more about their lead-in down in Washington. \"Producers got in touch with the Washington station and said, 'tell us about these puppets,' \" recalled Jane. And suddenly, in late August, she and Jim were climbing into Jim's Thunderbird on their way to New York City to audition for NBC at WRCA studios. \"Producers were impressed,\" reported Lawrence Laurent in _The Washington Post_ \u2014and two months later, on October 11, the Muppets would make their first appearance on the _Tonight_ show with Steve Allen. \"This could be their big break,\" enthused the _Evening Star_.\n\nUntil now, the Muppets had never been seen outside the Washington, D.C., market. The _Tonight_ show, with its national audience, would give Jim and Jane an enormous amount of exposure\u2014and they were determined to give viewers a good dose of Muppet madness. Jim decided to use a relatively new but reliable sketch, featuring Rosemary Clooney's rendition of \"I've Grown Accustomed to Your Face\" from the recent Broadway hit _My Fair Lady_. Following Steve Allen's enthusiastic introduction, Jim performed Kermit\u2014wearing a blond wig\u2014lip-synching the song as he earnestly serenaded a squatty figure with its face concealed by a mask with a cutesy, doe-eyed face drawn on it. As the song reached the first musical interlude, the mask was slowly devoured from behind, revealing the deadpan Yorick beneath. Nervous laughter came from the live studio audience. What _was_ all this?\n\nAs the song continued, a stunned Kermit tried gamely to keep singing, even as Yorick\u2014in a wonderfully creepy performance by Jane\u2014meticulously made his way toward Kermit, determined now to devour him. As Kermit scooted away and slapped frantically at Yorick, the purple skull continued to nibble at Kermit's arms and legs, before finally dragging a flailing Kermit offstage. The audience roared its approval. The Muppets were a hit.\n\nDespite the growing success of the Muppets, back in D.C. an antsy WRC was still shuffling its afternoon lineup. After several weeks of jumbling, _Sam and Friends_ was integrated into the final ten minutes of each evening's newscast, airing nightly at 6:50. It was a plum position in the lineup\u2014and, given Jim and Jane's successful appearance on the _Tonight_ show, a well-deserved one. Before the end of 1956, they would make several other national appearances, including a performance on _The Arthur Godfrey Show_. It had been a good year\u2014and things would get even better in 1957.\n\nBeginning in January 1957, Jim was given his old 11:25 P.M. time slot, just after the late evening news and before the _Tonight_ show, which was trying to find its way following the recent departure of host Steve Allen. Jim now had the 6:50 P.M. slot after the early news, and the 11:25 P.M. spot following the late news, making him responsible for ten shows a week. Add to that the increasing number of guest spots on countless other variety shows and the requisite public appearances, and Jim's schedule quickly became grueling. \"There were times that I had three shows a day,\" Jim said later. \"So it kept me busy.\"\n\nSo busy, in fact, that in February 1957, Jim decided to withdraw, at least briefly, from the University of Maryland. Schoolwork itself was really no problem for Jim; as a mostly A or B student, he excelled in courses in puppetry, design, stagecraft, art history, illustration, and even a year in ROTC. His only low grades were in typewriting, economics, and physical education. The decision to withdraw, then, was not to be made lightly. But Jim was perhaps astute enough to recognize that he had been given an enormous opportunity: he had not one, but two daily shows, over which he had almost complete creative control. For an aspiring artist, it was a unique chance to learn by doing\u2014and all things being equal, Jim had perhaps decided his best classroom was not up the road at the university, but down the hill at WRC studios. Jim already had a full-time job lined up at WRC working in the studio's scenic art department, designing and building sets. Through this job and his nightly work on _Sam and Friends_ , Jim was determined to learn all he could about what went on both in front of and behind the camera. He would become a student of television.\n\nThat didn't make his schedule less hectic\u2014in many ways, it was even crazier. There was his full-time job in WRC's art department, but even on the days he wasn't working, Jim was taking his _Sam and Friends_ routines more seriously now, spending the mornings sorting through and listening to records, hoping for the spark of an idea for a Muppet performance\u2014it was his intention, he said, not to repeat a song for at least two months. Once inspired, he would write brief routines, sometimes scratching them out like cartoons on a yellow pad, though Jim would often write on any piece of paper he could find. Meanwhile, Jane would rise early to attend morning classes at Catholic University, then make the six-mile drive to Jim's family home in University Park. Over a late lunch, the two of them would review Jim's routines, select the music, discuss any sets that might need to be built, and toss around other ideas. Then it was time to head into the District to WRC studios to rehearse the _Sam and Friends_ segment for the evening newscast, which would be performed live at 6:50.\n\nAfter the early evening performance, Jane would return to her place in Northeast Washington to do homework, while Jim went back to University Park to have dinner, build and paint sets, or touch up and repair any Muppets showing signs of wear. At 10:30, he and Jane would meet back at WRC for an hour of rehearsal before going live at 11:25 with the five-minute installment of _Sam and Friends_. Even after they'd finished filming for the evening, Jim would sometimes stay for hours afterward, talking with cameramen and technicians. \"In his spare time he'd be in the control room, trying to understand what was going on,\" Jane recalled. \"And the technicians loved teaching him because he really learned his lessons well. He couldn't wait to try out the things he was learning on _Sam and Friends_.\"\n\nEarly on, Jim learned simple camera tricks that could enhance their performance. \"At that time, all those television cameras were equipped with turrets [of lenses] and we would ask for the widest angle lens and experiment with moving in and out of the camera,\" said Jim. \"You could do really interesting things in terms of depth.\" He discovered, for instance, that by holding the character back only a few feet, then moving forward, a wide-angle lens made the Muppet appear to rush the camera, covering a seemingly huge distance in a flash. It was unsophisticated but effective, and Jim encouraged the floor crew to freely offer suggestions on other technical tricks that might punch up their performance. \"The atmosphere in the studio was very relaxed because in the beginning, we were lip-synching to records,\" said Jane. \"There was no live sound... so there was no need to be completely quiet. We could talk as we worked, and if something went especially well, the crew would applaud. If something went wrong, we'd laugh anyway!\"\n\nThe majority of their performances still involved lip-synching and pantomiming to novelty records\u2014which, fortunately, Stan Freberg and others were continuing to produce regularly. \"We'd use a lot of records,\" Jane remarked later. \"If it didn't go well, we wouldn't use it again, but if it did go well, we'd save it and use it again.\" In the free-for-all atmosphere of early television, there was never any thought given to clearing the records for usage, which likely would have involved paying royalties. \"I think we were working with something that was setting a precedent,\" Jane offered later, coyly suggesting that their use of the records may have fallen under the same \"fair use\" rules of live radio. \"The whole business was much more cottage industry\u2014it wasn't the way it is now.\"\n\nIn fact, remembered Jane, some of the artists whose records had been used on _Sam and Friends_ grumbled at first, noting the lack of royalties or the use of an otherwise serious performance for a laugh and a punch line. When any wounded artists brought their concerns to Jim's attention, however, it was always easier to ask forgiveness than permission\u2014and most crumpled in the face of Jim's charm. Stan Freberg, in fact, admitted he had been irritated when he learned his records were being used without attribution or recompense, and went storming down to WRC in April 1957 to issue a personal cease and desist. Once he had the opportunity to actually see Jim and Jane perform, however, Freberg melted\u2014and shortly thereafter sent the two an enthusiastic telegram with his blessings. \"I take it all back,\" gushed Freberg. \"This is one of the greatest acts I have ever seen [and I] am honored to let you use my records for ever and longer.\"\n\nJim reenrolled at the University of Maryland in the fall of 1957, following a brief summer vacation in Mexico. The break, if you could call it that, had done him good. He introduced a new character, the cigar-shaped, brush-mustached Professor Madcliffe, \"who has a knack,\" Jim explained, \"for not being able to repair things he's helped put out of order.\" He would also be the first Muppet Jim would perform in his own voice\u2014mostly interacting with Paul Arnold as he introduced segments\u2014instead of lip-synching to records.\n\nCreatively, Jim's sketches for _Sam and Friends_ were growing more and more outlandish, juxtaposing bizarre behavior\u2014in which his Muppets usually pummeled, blew up, or devoured each other\u2014with earnest, sappy songs. Jim relished every moment. \"In the early days of the Muppets, we had two endings,\" Jim said. \"Either one creature ate the other, or both of them blew up.... I've always been particular to things eating other things!\" It was a sense of humor you either got, or you didn't; it was as simple as that, and Jim wasn't about to tone down his act. \"We'd try some really way-out things,\" Jim said later. \"I remember one strange thing we had on the show\u2014a puppet made from the skull of a squirrel. We used to take this slightly macabre thing and make it talk, and also we used it to lip-synch to this terrible song called 'There's a New Sound'... it has only one chord and it would drive people crazy.... I was convinced no one else at the station ever watched the show because there was never a complaint or any attempt at censorship of any kind.\"\n\nAnd still WRC couldn't seem to leave well enough alone. In September 1957, the network scratched _Sam and Friends_ from its 6:50 P.M. spot, and cleared out its evening programming as the network struggled with lackluster ratings from the _Tonight_ show. As they had in 1955, _Sam_ 's fans responded angrily. \"We have so few local shows that are worthwhile that when we do get something good, let's fight to keep it on and going strong,\" declared one letter to the _Star_. \"Sam, Yorick and Kermit are a lot more entertaining than _Death Valley Days_ and _Last of the Mohicans_.\" \"This is one case where I'm certain that WRC regretted cancellation of the show,\" agreed the _Star_ 's editors. Responding to the uproar, _Sam_ was quietly returned to its regular spots in the WRC lineup.\n\n_The Tonight Show_ , too, would right itself shortly thereafter, determining at last that it would officially be called _The Tonight Show_ and installing Jack Paar as host. In fact, as the lead-in to the newly energized _Tonight Show, Sam and Friends_ had become a local late night powerhouse. But it was a final bit of tinkering in the WRC schedule\u2014this time courtesy of parent company NBC\u2014that would give Jim not just one, but two of the most desirable time slots in television.\n\nInitially, WRC execs had likely hoped that Jim's 6:50 performance of _Sam and Friends_ would lure in and keep viewers tuned to NBC for the next hour, gently persuading them to sit through _Superman_ or _Nat King Cole_ , until the 7:45 broadcast of a new fifteen-minute, national nightly news show NBC was working hard to promote: _The Huntley-Brinkley Report. The Huntley-Brinkley Report_ had been inserted into the NBC lineup on October 29, 1956, to replace John Cameron Swayze's flailing _Camel News Caravan_ , which had sunk slowly beneath CBS in the ratings. For its new newscast, NBC had gambled on a unique two-man format, with Chet Huntley broadcasting from New York City and David Brinkley from the WRC studios at Wardman Park in Washington\u2014but the wager was proving slow to pay off.\n\nHowever, in September 1957\u2014as part of the strategy that would eventually make _Huntley-Brinkley_ the nation's most respected and critically acclaimed news broadcast\u2014NBC had decided to move _Huntley-Brinkley_ out of its relatively late 7:45 P.M. slot and start the show an hour earlier, having it come on right after most local newscasts so viewers wouldn't have to wait an hour between local and national news. WRC obligingly shortened its own 6:30 newscast to fifteen minutes, and gave Jim\u2014and _Sam and Friends_ \u2014the final five minutes before WRC cut away to the national feed of _Huntley-Brinkley_ at 6:45.\n\nIt was an unbelievable break, and nearly fifty years later, Jane was still shaking her head in amazement at their luck. \"We got the _Huntley-Brinkley_ audience, _and_ the [ _Tonight Show_ ] audience!\" Jane laughed. \"I mean, what could be better?... You'd have national news, international news, weather, sports... and Kermit!\" As David Brinkley began his broadcasts each evening at 6:45 at Wardman Park, Jim and Jane were several doors down, packing up their Muppets and preparing to return to the studio in five hours for the 11:25 broadcast. WRC anchorman Bryson Rash, who had the opportunity to watch _Sam and Friends_ in the studio as he wrapped up the evening news, never ceased to be amazed by Jim's performance. Jim was \"very shy, a retiring sort of person,\" recalled Rash. \"But he was vigorous and he had a great imagination, of course, and he did a wonderful show.\"\n\nEven as the Muppets grew in popularity, so, too, did their performers. _The Washington Post_ , for example, was happy to let its readers know that Jane designed most of her own clothes, studied German three nights a week in an adult education course (\"because it's free,\" she explained), and lived with a roommate in an apartment with no television. Jim appreciated such press, and teased Jane about the countless photographs that seemed to appear of her with the Muppets. \"Why are you having _your_ picture taken with all _my_ puppets?\" Jim would ask in mock annoyance. Likely it was because Jane was the more press-savvy of the two of them; when faced with an interviewer, Jim would usually slouch way down on a chair, his arms folded and long legs crossed in front of him, content to let Jane do the talking. Indeed, of the two of them, Jane was the more bohemian and worldly, the one who lived in an apartment in the District, making pottery, chatting with artists, and cooking for herself, very much grown up and on her own. Jim, meanwhile, still lived rent-free with his parents in the house on suburban Beechwood Road, still sleeping in the same bedroom he had shared with Paul.\n\nDespite their obvious personal chemistry, Jim and Jane's relationship remained collegial and strictly professional, likely to the confusion of friends who wondered how two people could work together so intimately, arms often tangled together overhead as they worked from their knees, and yet remain merely co-workers. In fact, both Jim and Jane were involved with other people, with Jane engaged to Bill Schmittmann, a student from American University she had been dating since 1955, and Jim seeing Anne Marie Hood, a vivacious teaching student, three years younger\u2014a \"cheerleader type,\" said Jane flatly, \"but a nice girl\"\u2014to whom he would be engaged later that year. For the moment, then, the only relationship Jim and Jane were interested in having with each other was a professional one\u2014and they made it official in 1957, agreeing to become business partners and sealing their deal with a handshake.\n\nAlmost immediately, the new partners would have a remarkable opportunity. That summer, the Ver Standig advertising agency of Washington, D.C., had been approached by one of its clients, the John H. Wilkins Company, about producing a series of catchy ten-second spots for their coffee. The company wanted something innovative, memorable, and, if possible, funny. Helen Ver Standig, a fan of _Sam and Friends_ , thought she knew exactly whom to call.\n\n# **CHAPTER FOUR**\n\n#\n\n# **MUPPETS, INC**.  \n1957\u20131962\n\n_Wilkins (right) and Wontkins_. (photo credit 4.1)\n\nTHE JOHN H. WILKINS COMPANY WAS ONE OF WASHINGTON'S SCRAPPIER and more successful local businesses. John H. Wilkins, Sr., had started the firm in 1900 as a tiny specialty coffee shop in the downtown area, where one of his regulars had been the respected politician William Jennings Bryan, who was not only fond of the coffee, but was also known to scarf down any food left sitting out on open trays or half-empty plates. In 1917, Wilkins had gone into the coffee wholesale business, joined in 1921 by his son, John H. Wilkins, Jr. The younger Wilkins had taken over the company with the passing of his father in 1947, and by the 1950s, the firm was one of the most successful businesses in the area, selling 11 million pounds of coffee annually, supplying two thirds of the coffee used in area hotels and restaurants, and over a quarter of that used in D.C. area homes\u2014including the White House. \"Use Wilkins coffee,\" was Wilkins Jr.'s personal sales pitch and mantra, \"it's a wonderful way to start the day.\"\n\nHelen Ver Standig approached Jim to discuss a new advertising campaign for Wilkins, which would involve filming fifteen ten-second coffee commercials, with an option to create more, based on demand. Jim would have only about eight seconds for each ad\u2014the last two seconds were needed to show the product itself\u2014so the ad would have to make the point quickly and effectively. There had been some skepticism about using puppets to sell coffee, but for Ver Standig, Jim was more than just Muppets. While she conceded that she thought the humor on _Sam and Friends_ was \"really pretty corny,\" she still felt there was something there, an edgy sensibility that she thought would make the Wilkins campaign memorable.\n\nIt was a challenge, but it didn't take Jim long to accept the offer\u2014and he already had an idea of how he would handle the project. \"We took a very different approach,\" he explained. \"We tried to sell things by making people laugh.\" Unlike most commercials at the time, which simply showed a product and described it in voice-over, Jim wanted to make fun of advertising itself, using an over-the-top, mock-heavy-handed approach. For his commercials, then, Jim would take John Wilkins's mantra and give it a Muppet twist. No longer would Wilkins coffee be merely a wonderful way to start the day; it would be, \"Use Wilkins coffee... or else!\"\n\nIn that \"or else!\" clause lay Jim's particular expertise.\n\nJim set to work drawing out his ideas for the Wilkins project, storyboarding his spots in pencil on lined yellow paper. For the commercials, Jim created two new characters, the skinny, rounded, excitable Wilkins, who _will_ drink Wilkins coffee, and the squatty, triangular, grumpy Wontkins, who _won't_. It was the same Laurel and Hardy study in contrasting characters that Jim got such a kick out of\u2014only this time, that conflicting dynamic was the defining premise of the commercials, all of which worked in the same way: Wilkins asks Wontkins to try Wilkins coffee, Wontkins refuses, so\n\nWilkins lets Wontkins have it. But it was the increasingly absurd and sometimes shocking forms of punishment that Wilkins would dish out that would make Jim's Wilkins spots some of the most memorable, and successful, commercials of the era, with the skeptical Wontkins being clubbed, shot, egged, blown up, run over, stomped on, or decapitated for his refusal to sample Wilkins coffee.\n\nIn fact, it was almost _too_ easy for Jim to come up with increasingly ridiculous scenarios for punishing Wontkins\u2014for Jim really _didn't_ like Wilkins coffee, or coffee of any kind for that matter. To Jim, the Wilkins commercials were a playful way of working out what it _would_ take to get him to drink coffee\u2014and the answer was: quite a lot. (Jim would, in fact, later politely gag down a sip of Wilkins coffee at a formal dinner at the Wilkinses' home, much to the delight of Jane, who knew of his aversion to the stuff.) For the commercials, then, Jim would always perform the crotchety Wontkins, while Jane performed Wilkins, lip-synching the puppet to Jim's prerecorded voice.\n\nJim's early segments capitalized on his fondness for ending sketches with explosions\u2014or, at least, on explosive variations. In one of the first spots Jim produced, Wilkins points a cannon at Wontkins and asks, \"Okay, buddy, whattaya think of Wilkins coffee?\" \"I never tasted it,\" Wontkins admits. Wilkins fires the cannon, blasting Wontkins off-screen, then turns the cannon toward the viewer. \"Now what do _you_ think of Wilkins?\" he asks calmly. Quick cut to a shot of Wilkins coffee, commercial over, point made. In another, Wilkins and Wontkins stand at a microphone, as if aware they're recording a commercial. \"Care for a cup of Wilkins coffee?\" asks Wilkins. \"No, I don't like coffee,\" Wontkins growls\u2014and a hand holding a pistol emerges from off-screen and shoots him pointblank. \"This has been a public service!\" Wilkins says to the viewer.\n\nFor Jim, this was an opportunity to gleefully indulge in near chaotic humor. And at only eight seconds, it all went by so quickly viewers hardly knew whether to shriek or laugh. As it turns out, they did _both_ , exactly as Jim expected. In Wilkins and Wontkins, Jim had created the kind of silly and endearing characters that were already becoming his trademark\u2014the kind of characters that could even let him get away with being a little dangerous. And as Jim had learned from Walt Kelly's _Pogo_ , your audience was willing to let you be a little subversive when you were giving them something fun to look at and, more important, when they were being entertained.\n\nThe ads were enormously successful, sending sales of Wilkins coffee soaring by 25 percent, and winning for Jim and Jane\u2014and the Ver Standig advertising firm\u2014local awards for excellence in advertising. \"The commercials were an immediate hit and they made a big impact,\" Jim recalled. \"In terms of popularity of commercials in the Washington area, we were the number one, most popular commercial.\" Many viewers, in fact, confessed that they were merely \"sitting through\" afternoon westerns or quiz shows in hopes of catching the latest commercial.\n\nThe Wilkins Company was delighted\u2014\"This is the biggest thing that has ever happened to Wilkins Coffee,\" exclaimed John Wilkins\u2014and for Helen Ver Standig, her confidence in Jim had been vindicated. \"He had the creative ability of being able to get his audience to identify emotionally with his Muppets,\" she said. \"Everybody in the morning feels like killing their husband or wife anyway.... People went mad for these puppets.\" So mad, in fact, that they spawned the first bit of Muppet-related merchandise, a pair of Wilkins and Wontkins \"Hand Muppets\" that fans could get by sending in a dollar and \"the last inch of winding band on Wilkins Coffee.\" Made of \"soft but durable vinyl,\" more than 25,000 pairs of Wilkins and Wontkins puppets sold during the 1958 Christmas season. Despite the use of the Muppet name in the promotion, Jim and Jane saw none of the profits\u2014which at the time didn't bother them much. \"I'm sure it cost them more to make than they ever sold,\" Jane said.\n\nJim and Jane would end up filming nearly 180 commercials for Wilkins coffee over the next several years\u2014filmed mostly at Rodel Studios in Washington\u2014coming up with new and more creative scenarios in which Wilkins could torment poor Wontkins. Some ads let Jim indulge in his delight for puns (\"I shoulda saw this coming!\" says a tied-up Wontkins as he inches toward a roaring buzz saw. \"He always was a cutup!\" Wilkins says, one-upping his partner for the punch line), play with nonsensical endings (Wontkins gets crushed by a falling Washington Monument), or indulge in good old-fashioned pie-in-the-face humor. Perhaps due to their obvious, almost aggressive glee, there were surprisingly few complaints about their cartoonish violence\u2014in fact, most viewers understood exactly what Jim was up to. \"The funniest thing we have seen in many a moon,\" wrote one viewer. \"[It] has a message that gets across to people in a most unusual way.\"\n\nJim's Wilkins commercials also caught the attention of other coffee companies across the eastern seaboard, who wanted the Muppets selling _their_ coffee, too. \"[The commercials] got a lot of talk, and so then the advertising agency started syndicating them and they would sell them to a coffee company in Boston, another coffee company in New York,\" Jim recalled. \"We had up to about a dozen or so clients going at the same time,\" Jim said, including Community Coffee of Louisiana, La Touraine Coffee of Boston, Nash's Coffee of Minnesota, and even the carbonated drink CalSo in California. \"At that point, I was making a lot of money,\" Jim said. That was typical understatement\u2014in 1958 and 1959, Nash's Coffee alone would pay Jim a total of $20,000 (about $150,000 today) for eight commercials. But it was also a lot of work, as Jim preferred to reshoot old Wilkins commercials using the names of the other products. For the perfectionist Jim, it would have been cheating, for example, to dub in the five syllables of \"La Touraine Coffee\" over Wilkins mouthing the four syllables for \"Wilkins Coffee.\"\n\nApart from their phenomenal marketing and financial success, the Wilkins spots marked another kind of personal victory for Jim. \"That was almost the first voice stuff I did,\" he noted proudly. Up until now, he had, by his own admission, done only \"a couple of little tiny things\" with voices on _Sam and Friends_. Now he was doing all his own voices, giving Wilkins, after a bit of experimentation, a slightly quavering voice pitched just a bit higher than his own, and Wontkins a gruff rasp, similar to the voice he would later use for Rowlf the Dog.\n\nThe Muppets were becoming wildly successful\u2014in 1958, _Sam and Friends_ would win an Emmy for Best Local Entertainment Program\u2014and yet, Jim was still uncertain whether there was a future for him as a puppeteer. While the Muppets were still paying the bills\u2014and, with their new foray into advertising, paying remarkably well\u2014Jim was still looking toward a future as a painter or as a set designer, while Jane was hoping for a career in commercial art or fashion. In a profile of Jim in a 1958 issue of the University of Maryland's _Old Line_ magazine, Jim would only promise to \"continue with the Muppets as long as there is a demand for them.\"\n\nPrivately, in fact, Jim was ready to quit _Sam and Friends_ altogether. \"I decided to chuck it all and go off to be a painter,\" Jim said. \"I was an artist, you see, so I was going to take the shows off the air, just quit for a while.\" Jim's decision sent WRC executives scrambling for a way to keep their twenty-one-year-old ratings magnet on the payroll. \"The station prevailed upon me,\" Jim said later, laughing. \"They said, 'Look, we'll pay you money and you can put somebody else doing the show,' and so I realized I can get money and at the same time be off painting.\"\n\nTo take over his performing duties on _Sam and Friends_ , Jim engaged the services of a friend he had known since Northwestern High School, a fellow University of Maryland student named Bobby Payne. Payne, a quiet and somewhat shy young man, was awed by the supremely confident Jim. \"He already knew what he was wanting!\" Payne said with amazement. Late that spring, Jim picked up Payne in his convertible and drove to WRC's new studios on Nebraska Avenue in Northwest Washington to give Payne a crash course in the Muppet style of performing.\n\nPayne quickly came to appreciate the sheer strength and stamina Jim brought to the job. Performing Sam, Payne recalled, could be a workout. \"He had this bar inside him that you could [use to shrug Sam's shoulders],\" said Payne. \"It would kill you to do a whole number. He was made of plastic wood in his hands and head\u2014he was just heavy!\" But even as precise and as demanding as he could be, Jim was always patient and encouraging. \"Jim more or less said, 'You should be able to do anything,' \" Payne said. \"And so he really challenged me to try to do those things.\"\n\nIn June 1958, then, with the Muppets in good hands\u2014in addition to hiring Payne as a performer, he had left the general management of the Muppets in the capable care of Jane\u2014Jim \"wandered over to Europe,\" as he casually described it, with no real plan but to travel the continent and study painting. It would turn out to be a critical journey for Jim and his development as an artist\u2014though not as the painter he had initially aspired to be.\n\nInitially, Jim traveled in Europe with Joe Irwin, who was more than happy to continue in the same aide-de-camp role as he had for their cross-country trip, snapping pictures of Jim as he stood in front of the Eiffel Tower, stretching himself as tall and dignified as he could get, or gleefully leaping onto railroad tracks in Germany to pretend to push a freight train. As a twenty-one-year-old on his first European adventure, Jim was a whirlwind of activity, weaving through museums in France, scrambling over rocks in Lucerne, and craning his neck at barmaids in Germany. Irwin, who had enlisted in the military, finally had to leave Jim in France after a few weeks to report for active duty. \"But I know the kind of adventures he had while in Paris,\" Irwin said later, laughing. It was, as Irwin characterized it, \" 'Sex on the Seine'... I'm surprised he came back!\"\n\nFor weeks, Jim simply roamed, attending the World's Fair in Brussels, and gazing at paintings and sculpture in Switzerland, France, or Germany. But to his surprise, there was another art form Europeans enjoyed, and that they took just as seriously as painting or sculpture. \"In Europe,\" said Jim with amazement, \"everyone goes to puppet shows.\" As Joe Irwin recalled, Jim was particularly fascinated by the countless amateur Punch and Judy shows\u2014and was even more intrigued with the reaction of the audiences, who hooted and hissed and actively engaged with the puppets, often throwing out story suggestions or having shouted conversations with the characters. It was one of the first times Jim had ever been an active audience member, and he \"absolutely marveled\" at how completely an audience could get caught up in the performance. \"[Audiences] were very involved,\" said Irwin. \"These puppets became live entertainers, [especially] to the children.\"\n\nJim traveled more deliberately now, seeking out puppet shows of every kind, and talking with puppeteers, puppet makers, even audiences. What he saw was craftspeople who took real pride in their work, painting elaborate wooden heads and sewing beautiful cloth puppets. He saw puppet theaters and sets that rivaled opera houses, while others were equally as gorgeous in their stark minimalism. \"That was the first time I'd ever met any other puppeteers.... When I traveled around, I saw the work of a number of people,\" Jim said. \"They were very serious about their work. I thought that what they were doing was really interesting.\"\n\nIt was a turning point. Until now, no matter how good or groundbreaking his own work might have been, Jim had always had Rudy Pugliese's question burning in the back of his head: _Why are you wasting your time with those puppets?_ Now he finally had his answer: he wasn't. As he headed for home in August 1958 after six weeks abroad, he had made his decision. \"It was at that point I realized the puppetry was an art form, a valid way to do really interesting things,\" Jim remarked. \"I came back from that trip all fired up to do wonderful puppetry.\" He also came back with a beard, a variation on the European-style Vandyke, making a brushy circle around his mouth and trimmed to a slight point. It was both fashionable and, in Jim's opinion, functional, as it covered the acne scars that were always more visible to himself than to others.\n\nIt was as if those few weeks in Europe had opened a creative floodgate\u2014for what followed would be a period of enormous experimentation and artistic growth as Jim pursued a wide variety of interests and began to play with other forms of media. Many projects would never make it beyond the idea phase, drawn into Jim's sketchbooks with elaborate notes, while others would result in wonderful bits of animation or recordings that Jim would keep privately to himself, satisfied merely with the act of creating and imagining. He was reaching out, exploring new ways to tell stories and create worlds, the ideas coming almost faster than he could scribble down or carry out.\n\nThat autumn, Jim took no courses at the University of Maryland. Invigorated by both the puppetry and the literature of his European trip, he was determined to stage a European-style production of _Hansel and Gretel_ , and spent the fall filling pages of his sketchbooks with set designs and rough story outlines. Jim's pencil drawings for _Hansel and Gretel_ alone justify his initial enthusiasm for a career in set design; his sketches of a haunted forest are alive with energy, filled with smiling trees that twist themselves into thorny, gnarled knots, and grimacing tree stumps with spooky, blank, jack-o'-lantern eyes. It's just the kind of place in which a fairy tale should exist, and Jim clearly had a sense of the look and feel of the world in which his story would take place\u2014the same design mentality he would bring to _The Dark Crystal_ two decades later. Working with Bobby Payne, Jim got as far as building several sets for _Hansel and Gretel_ , as well as several puppets\u2014including a witch with light-up eyes\u2014but in the end Jim shelved the project, calling it \"ridiculously overcomplicated.\" Still, the writing and design work had been good experience. Jim was becoming a storyteller.\n\nEven without _Hansel and Gretel_ , there was plenty to keep Jim busy. First and foremost, Jim returned to school full-time in 1959, determined to complete his degree. On the work end of things, during Jim's absence, WRC had made the Muppets a regular part of _In Our Town_ , a half-hour daily variety show airing at 1:00 each afternoon, giving the Muppets _three_ regular spots in the daily lineup. Jim also arranged for more appearances on Jack Paar's _Tonight Show_ and continued to film commercials for Wilkins and other coffee companies at the rate of about one a week.\n\nWith a steady income and the Muppets increasingly in demand, Jim and Jane were ready to take their business to the next level. Moving beyond a mere business partnership, they decided to create their own company\u2014and in 1958, Jim and Jane officially established Muppets, Inc. While Jim always described them as equal partners in the business, Jane would always refer to Jim as the boss. Jim replied that if he was, indeed, the boss, it was \"just a little bit.\" In truth, it was more than just a little bit; Jim had drawn up the papers for Muppets, Inc. so that he owned 60 percent of the company to Jane's 40.\n\nBut there was another relationship Jim wanted to make official as well. \"When he came back from Europe, he had it in his mind that we were supposed to get married,\" Jane said later. \"He said, 'We're going to do this with the puppets and then we're going to get married.' \"\n\nThe proposition wasn't entirely out of the blue. In the four years the two of them had been working together, they had developed an ability to speak without talking, each almost intuitively understanding what the other was thinking. It made for great puppetry, and lately it had made for some interesting moments for Jim's fianc\u00e9e Anne Marie, and Jane's fianc\u00e9, Bill. \"I remember an elevator ride at WRC one night, when Jim had gone up to get Anne Marie from school,\" Jane said. \"And we're all [four] in the elevator... and Jim and I were like, 'You know, we're here and that's important but those other two people don't need to be here.' It was that kind of feeling about it. We had a kind of permanency about us.\"\n\nAnd so the engagements were broken off, and Jim and Jane had gone out a few times\u2014dinner at a Mexican restaurant where Jim was more interested in the murals than the meal, going ice skating, or attending outdoor performances by the Kingston Trio or Harry Belafonte\u2014but mostly, said Jane, \"they weren't dates, they were working situations.\" Their courtship was part of Jim's life plan, the next logical step after forming Muppets, Inc. toward becoming Jim Henson. Jim and Jane's relationship was based on passion\u2014passion for art, for performance, and for each other\u2014but it was more a business proposal than a marriage proposal. \"It was like, 'Do I have a choice in this?' \" Jane recalled, laughing at first about their unusual courtship\u2014but then grew more reflective about their complex thirty-year relationship. \"Every marriage comes with an agreement, and our agreement was that we would support his work,\" she said firmly. \"So, in many ways, the work came first. That's not necessarily a good agreement. This isn't against Jim\u2014I just think that the general agreement of the whole marriage and family thing was that the work was primary. Where that came from I'm not really sure. I guess it's because Jim and I were working [when we] got married, but that wasn't always a good agreement... and it really was not supposed to be questioned.\n\n\"I can say this about Jim and me,\" she said finally. \"He is totally a natural leader. And I am absolutely a follower. I really am. I'm pretty good at allowing things to happen when they're supposed to rather than being a leader. But Jim was always a leader. _Always_.\"\n\nTo those who knew of Jim's penchant for \"the cheerleader type,\" the artsier Jane didn't seem, on the face of it, to be Jim's sort. But Joe Irwin, who knew them both, thought he understood. Jane had one thing to which Jim would always be attracted: _talent_. She was also warm and \"had an artistic bent,\" Irwin explained, which Jim found compelling. But there was also, he thought, a mutual sexual attraction that Jim couldn't deny. Jane was three years Jim's senior, and older\u2014and more experienced\u2014than most girls Jim had dated. \"She was mature,\" Irwin said delicately, \"and probably more adventurous.\"\n\nJane couldn't deny there was an intense intimacy there\u2014that \"permanency\" that Jane had sensed during their elevator ride at WRC. \"We were very fond of being with each other,\" Jane said. \"There was a love there. Quite honestly, I can't remember _falling_ in love; it was more like a recognition of 'Look, this is what's been happening.' \" It had been, as many would say later, admiration at first sight.\n\nAnd so, on May 28, 1959, at Jane's family home in Salisbury, Maryland, Jane Nebel and Jim Henson were married in a small ceremony presided over by the family minister, Jim's Uncle Jinx, with Joe Irwin serving as Jim's best man. (Irwin, in fact, had nearly missed the wedding, having run into bad weather during his flight into D.C.\u2014but Jim had paid for a private plane to pick up his best man the moment he landed at National Airport to whisk him to Maryland's Eastern Shore.) There was only one condition imposed on the match, and that had come from Betty Henson, who insisted her son shave off his new beard for the wedding. Jim dutifully obliged, putting the shearings in an envelope and mailing them to Jane just before the wedding with a playful note reading, \"From Samson to Delilah.\" In celebration of the nuptials, _Sam and Friends_ went on a short honeymoon hiatus\u2014the Hensons themselves would make a quick honeymoon sprint to the beach at Delaware's Rehoboth\u2014with loyal _Post_ reporter Lawrence Laurent tipping readers off to the cause of _Sam_ 's brief absence from the WRC lineup.\n\nThe newlywed Hensons settled into a new home in the suburb of Bethesda, Maryland, buying a sprawling ranch on woodsy Nevis Road\u2014not only the first home Jim would own, but the first time he had ever lived away from his parents\u2014filled with modern furniture, purchased with Muppet money. In the basement, Jim set up the first Muppet workshop, a comfortable space crammed with cabinets and tables strewn with fabric, paints, foam, glue, and art supplies. Here Jim would come to scribble ideas in his sketchbooks and manage the affairs of Muppets, Inc., with a Siamese cat named George Washington curled at his feet.\n\nHe had another new toy in the workshop: a Bolex 16mm movie camera\u2014an ideal camera for an aspiring animator, as it had a side release button, which made it possible to film just a few frames at a time. Jim excitedly set to work creating what he called \"animated paintings.\" \"I started painting on a sheet of paper placed under the lens of the animation stand,\" Jim recalled. \"I would just paint a couple of strokes and take a frame or two of film, and I would be able to watch this painting evolve and move. From that time on I lost interest in easel painting as such because the movement concept was just so much more interesting. I was really very excited about it.\" Jim would later put his animated paintings to notable use in many of _Sesame Street_ 's colorful counting sequences.\n\nPerhaps instilled with a new sense of self-confidence in his writing skills from his experience with _Hansel and Gretel_ , Jim was beginning to write more original pieces for _Sam and Friends_ at the rate of \"about two or three\" a week, banging out his skits on a typewriter or scribbling in pencil on lined yellow notebook paper. He was also doing more of his own voices for his Muppets, experimenting to come up with just the right sound for each of _Sam_ 's cast members. For Professor Madcliffe\u2014the first character Jim would voice\u2014Jim settled on a higher-pitched, manic game show host voice. Harry the Hipster was easier; Jim had this kind of character down pat, speaking in the same sort of gruff hepcat voice he would later give to Dr. Teeth. And perhaps appropriately, given his connection with the character, Kermit was closer to Jim's own voice, though slightly more nasal and\u2014in these early days, at least\u2014with just a hint of a swampy Mississippi twang.\n\nWhen performing his own sketches, Jim would drive to WRC early to record all of his voices, music, and sound effects to tape, which he and Jane\u2014and sometimes Bobby Payne\u2014would then edit and revise, creating a four-and-a-half-minute soundtrack for their performance. For the rest of the afternoon, they would listen to the track over and over, memorizing the vocals and sound effects to ensure they could lip-synch the Muppets seamlessly to Jim's own voices. For her part, Jane would remain the silent partner, though that had not necessarily been her decision. \"Jim never had me do voices,\" Jane said later, with only a hint of regret. \"I don't think it was my choice, I think it was Jim's. That probably _was_ a disappointment, but in the long run it was fine, because I didn't really want to be doing that [for a living].\"\n\nOne of the earliest _Sam and Friends_ episodes Jim wrote was \"Powder Burn,\" a pun-filled parody of TV's _Gunsmoke_ that could have been lifted directly from Stan Freberg or the pages of the new _MAD_ magazine, filled with the kind of winking puns, clever plays on words, and silly names that Jim loved\u2014the \"stage coach\" everyone is expecting at noon, for example, turns out to be a drama teacher, played enthusiastically by Jim with Professor Madcliffe. Another sketch poked fun at _Meet the Press_ , satirizing the news show with a bit of _Pogo_ -esque political commentary on organized crime. Television parodies were always fun for Jim\u2014he particularly enjoyed lampooning game shows, a habit that would continue on _Sesame Street_.\n\nOne of Jim's most ambitious pieces, however, was a skit he called \"Visual Thinking,\" a sketch that reflected Jim's growing mastery of the television medium, his love of animation, and his increasing fascination with the workings of the mind and imagination. As the sketch opens, Kermit tells Harry he's learning to visualize his thoughts\u2014and to make the point, he says the letter Q, then looks up to watch as the letter writes itself in the air over his head. \"You're a beginner,\" responds Harry. \"I'm an old hand at this stuff. Watch!\"\u2014and on cue, an animated stopwatch appears over Harry's head. As the skit progresses, Harry talks about music\u2014as musical notes dot themselves across the screen\u2014then scats for a bit, creating animated scribbles that Harry erases by scatting backward. But when Harry scats again\u2014and then can't recall what he said well enough to say it backward\u2014more and more scrawls make their way across the screen, eventually whiting out the entire space as Kermit calls weakly for help. In his script for the piece, Jim was careful to indicate where on the screen all the effects were located, as well as their length of time down to the fraction of a second, ensuring he could have his characters respond perfectly to the on-screen animation. The bit worked perfectly, and Jim would keep it in the routine for several years\u2014and it, too, would show up in a slightly modified form on _Sesame Street_.\n\nIt was obvious to anyone watching _Sam and Friends_ that Jim and Jane were having fun\u2014so much fun, in fact, that their enormous success was almost incidental to them. Interviewing the Hensons for _The Christian Science Monitor_ in late 1959, reporter Ursula Keller speculated that Jane and Jim had earned over $100,000 in 1959\u2014nearly three quarters of a million dollars today, and an enormous sum for a young man not yet even in his mid-twenties. But Jane bristled at such talk. \"Money cannot measure success or happiness,\" she told Keller matter-of-factly. Those who knew the young couple at the time weren't surprised by their attitude toward the material. \"My impression of [Jim] and his wife was that they were totally unspoiled by their success,\" one friend remarked. \"He was just so simple, so unspoiled. They were so unimpressed with themselves.\"\n\nThat's not to say Jim didn't have his moments of flashy, well-deserved pride. In May 1960, he graduated from the University of Maryland with a degree in home economics. At this point in his career, a college degree was probably not a requirement for life after graduation, but Jim clearly valued education, and had returned to school after his extended absence, completing his degree in six years. Jim was rightly very proud of the accomplishment, and attended his graduation driving a Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud he had purchased used for a dizzying $5,000. But there was something else even more wonderful that spring\u2014something he was even prouder of: in early May, Jane had given birth to their first child, Lisa Marie Henson.\n\nTwo months after graduation, with eight-week-old Lisa in tow, Jim and Jane piled into the Rolls-Royce and drove to Detroit to attend the 1960 Puppeteers of America convention. The decision to make a thousand-mile round-trip drive with an infant says much about Jim's newly realized commitment to his chosen profession. He had immersed himself in the company of puppeteers while in Europe, but lacking Europe's widespread devotion to the craft in the United States, Jim was going to have to actively seek out those who shared his passion. That meant joining the Puppeteers of America, an organization founded in 1936 to, among other things, \"encourage and promote puppetry as a means of communication, an extension of human expression, and as a performing Art.\" That was just the sort of enthusiasm Jim could get behind.\n\nThe convention turned out to be everything Jim hoped it would be, with performances of every type of puppetry and the opportunity to talk with every kind of puppeteer. He even struck up a friendship with the one puppeteer with whom he probably had the most in common, fellow TV performer Burr Tillstrom, who was attending the convention with his talented puppet builder, Don Sahlin. Besides puppetry, Tillstrom and Jim had other interests in common, too\u2014both had a background in Christian Science\u2014but even with their different approaches to humor\u2014where Tillstrom was pensive, Jim was explosive\u2014Tillstrom would turn out to have the same impish streak as Jim. One afternoon, with only a little prodding from Tillstrom, the two puppeteers drove through the streets of Detroit in Jim's Rolls-Royce, with Jim enthusiastically working Kermit through the car's sunroof while Tillstrom drove, barely able to contain his laughter. Jane\u2014who admits to hiding in the backseat\u2014could only shake her head in mock disbelief. \"What with the Rolls and the new baby,\" she said later, \"we made quite an impression\u2014without particularly intending to.\" It was clear to Tillstrom he had a comrade in arms, just as silly, and just as talented, as he was.\n\nIt was through Tillstrom that Jim would make the acquaintance of another gentleman who shared their devilish sense of humor\u2014although by his own admission, _gentleman_ was probably not the right term to describe twenty-nine-year-old talent agent Bernie Brillstein. _Player_ was more like it.\n\nThe son of Russian Jewish immigrants and nephew of a vaudevillian, the streetwise, ambitious Brillstein had leapfrogged his way up the ladder at the renowned William Morris Agency, moving in five short years from the mailroom to the publicity department to the head of the commercial office. A bear of a man with a large libido and an even bigger taste for talent, Brillstein was also a master of the art of the deal. He was accustomed to working hard for his clients and determined never to take no for an answer. Brillstein would eventually become one of the most powerful and respected agents, managers, and producers in show business, with an A-list roster of celebrity clients, including, it seemed, nearly the entire cast of _Saturday Night Live_.\n\nIn 1960, however, as head of William Morris's commercial office, his job was recruiting and representing talent for television commercials. Brillstein, an early fan of television, quickly put to rest the showbiz aphorism that television commercials were for has-beens or the hard up, assembling a stable of top-tier clients like Zsa Zsa Gabor, Harpo Marx... and Burr Tillstrom. At the Detroit puppetry convention, Jim mentioned to Tillstrom that he, too, was looking for an agent\u2014that it was becoming increasingly difficult to secure bookings on the variety show circuit, and that an agent was the best way to get a foot in the door. Sometime later, Tillstrom phoned Brillstein in New York and asked if he would do him a favor and meet with a puppeteer friend of his.\n\nBrillstein groaned. \"Burr, give me a break, will ya please?\" the agent said. \"I love you... but you're one in a million. I'm into nightclub comedians and comedy. I don't really want to handle puppeteers.\"\n\nTillstrom was persistent. \"Bernie, this guy's something special, and he's a really nice guy.\"\n\n\"I didn't want to,\" Brillstein said later, \"but I said okay.\"\n\nJim diligently made the trip to New York where he was waved into Brillstein's office\u2014and Brillstein would never forget his first impression of twenty-three-year-old Jim Henson. \"In walked this guy who looked like a cross between Abe Lincoln and Jesus,\" Brillstein recalled. \"He was so gentle and unpretentious that he never spoke above a whisper.\" Jim had brought with him a box of Muppets and proceeded to put on a show for Brillstein. \"It was magic,\" Brillstein said forty years later, still amazed at the performance:\n\nWhen Jim performed, I _understood_ it. I got it.... I don't know what I saw in him, but I saw something. I realize that at first, before we became close friends, Jim appealed to my perverse sense of humor. _Sesame Street_ , which was still a few years off, was for kids, but Henson was not a kids' act. He was hip and slightly dark. He had cute little creations\u2014and he liked to blow them up.\n\nShortly after Jim left the office, Brillstein's phone rang. \"Bernie,\" his boss asked from the other end, \"have you heard of Jim Henson and the Muppets?\" Brillstein roared with laughter. \"Heard of him?\" Brillstein howled. \"I just signed him!\" (While Brillstein liked to claim that the two of them never entered into a formal agreement, doing business solely on the strength of a handshake, the two did, in fact, sign a contract.)\n\nThat summer, the Muppets made their first appearance on Dave Garroway's _Today_ show, with Jim and Jane broadcasting on a live feed from WRC studios while Garroway chatted with them from New York. Jim was still an enormous fan of variety shows like _Today_ and had performed on enough of them by now that he felt certain he could write and produce a variety show of his own\u2014one that would allow him to develop his own characters, write longer sketches, and indulge in a bit of chaos every once in a while. He was also certain that the Muppets could keep a viewer's attention for longer than just five-minute segments. As Jim saw it, the Muppets could more than hold their own for a full half hour\u2014they could even headline their own show. It was a dream Jim would pursue for more than fifteen years.\n\nWith this in mind, Jim began sketching ideas for a Muppet variety show he called _Zoocus_ \u2014a melding of _zoo_ and _circus_ \u2014developing characters that reflected his own interests and sense of humor. There was Carburetor Jones, a streamlined Muppet with flying hair who shared Jim's love of cars, and a character known simply as the Cat, who personified Jim's interest in jazz culture and shared Harry the Hipster's beatnik syntax. And then there was a favorite character type of Jim's: the stuffed shirt academic who doesn't get the joke. \"Acts as oracle to whom others ask questions,\" Jim wrote of a character called the Philosopher. \"Quotes quotes, usually wrong or inappropriate, doesn't know anything practical.\"\n\nElements of _Zoocus_ would show up later on _The Muppet Show_ , with Dr. Teeth as a hipper descendant of the Cat, and Sam the Eagle channeling the Philosopher in his plea for higher culture. Just as interesting, even in 1960, Jim had a clear vision of the stage design that, in many ways, directly influenced the set he designed for _The Muppet Show_ in 1976. Already there were the kinds of colonnades through which the Muppets would appear in _The Muppet Show_ 's opening credits, and a wall of windows of varying heights where humans could interact with puppets.\n\n_Zoocus_ would never move beyond the pages of Jim's notebooks, most likely due to a lack of time to pursue the project. Time, in fact, was on Jim's mind more and more\u2014the ticking clock, that feeling of disappearing time, that had seemed to haunt Jim immediately following his brother's death, was suddenly ticking again. Still performing two, sometimes three shows a day, making live appearances, and now with his responsibilities as a husband and new father, there were days when Jim likely wondered if there would ever be time enough to do all the things he wanted to do\u2014time enough to turn the ideas into reality. Typically, Jim took his own inner strife and turned it into art.\n\nIn late 1959, Jim had mentioned in an interview with _The Christian Science Monitor_ that he had been thinking about starting a recording company. In 1960, perhaps as a dry run, Jim recorded a single for Signature Records featuring two songs he had written, \"Tick-Tock Sick\" and \"The Countryside.\" Both allowed Jim to indulge his love of jazz and comedy records\u2014and \"Tick-Tock Sick\" in particular gave Jim an opportunity to playfully comment on his own busy state of mind in busy 1960.\n\nJim performed \"Tick-Tock Sick\" in a whispery, hepcat style reminiscent of a beatnik poet at an open mike in a coffeehouse, singing over a walking bass line and the sound of a steadily ticking clock. The song starts off as a celebration of the sound of a ticking grandfather clock, but becomes a more sinister set of \"calculated clickings\" as more and more clocks measure out the days with their ticking. Finally, an alarm clock clangs loudly, and Jim chucks it out the window, then cathartically smashes the rest of his clocks, vowing never to let the rhythm of his life be determined by the ticking and ringing of clocks. For the twenty-three-year-old Jim, while time could never be truly conquered, it could at least be controlled by slowing down, getting away from deadlines from time to time, and savoring the simpler things. It was advice he would strive to live by\u2014successfully, for the most part\u2014for the rest of his life.\n\nWhile Jim may have been vowing in \"Tick-Tock Sick\" to slow down, that would have to wait\u2014for he was now busier than ever. _Sam and Friends_ was at the height of its popularity, and WRC was wisely using Sam prominently in its promotional materials for the channel's evening lineup. \"Sam is back!\" crowed WRC in a September 1960 ad in _The Washington Post_ , as it announced a time change for its newscast, with Sam's shocked face staring out at readers.\n\nThere were more appearances on the _Today_ show\u2014along with countless other appearances on nearly every other variety or talk show of the day\u2014with Jim and Jane again piped in to Dave Garroway's New York studio on a live feed from WRC in Washington. In one notable _Today_ show appearance\u2014in which Garroway introduced Jim and Jane as \"two of the most interesting people ever\"\u2014Jim and Jane gave two particularly spirited performances. The first had Kermit and a vaguely-humanoid Muppet named Chicken Liver lip-synching to \"Yes, We Have No Bananas,\" with Jim as Kermit turning in a rollicking and very convincing banjo solo, while Jane enthusiastically performed Chicken Liver pounding away on an old piano. The next piece was one of their regular crowd-pleasers\u2014Jim had a growing selection of proven Muppet performances he would use regularly\u2014performing to Louis Prima and Keely Smith's \"That Old Black Magic,\" with Kermit vamping it up in a dark wig and Sam miming to the lead vocal. It was another whopping success.\n\nIn early 1961, Jane learned she was pregnant with their second child. Jim was delighted\u2014and he and Jane decided the time was right to make a difficult but crucial decision: following the birth of their next child, Jane would retire from performing. For now, she would remain an active performer for as long as she could\u2014and would always stay involved with the company even as she devoted herself nearly full-time to the children. But with the Muppets showing no signs of waning in popularity\u2014and Jim increasingly anxious to expand into other media\u2014Jim was going to need help sooner rather than later.\n\nThat summer, Jim, one-year-old Lisa, and a very pregnant Jane made the trip to the Puppeteers of America convention in Asilomar, California, driving out this time in a much more comfortable but significantly less flashy station wagon. While Jim didn't necessarily regard this as a recruiting trip, he was always interested in watching others perform and making contacts. His trip to the Detroit convention had sparked a professional friendship with Burr Tillstrom and led him to Bernie Brillstein. The journey to California, however, would mark the beginning of an even more extraordinary relationship.\n\nArriving at the convention, Jim immediately attached himself to Mike Oznowicz and his wife, Frances, two talented performers he had met briefly at the Detroit convention in 1960. The Dutch-born Oznowicz had fled Nazi-occupied Europe with his family in the late 1930s, taking refuge first in North Africa and then England, where Frances bore two sons\u2014her second, Frank Richard Oznowicz, would be born in Hereford, England, on May 25, 1944\u2014before immigrating to the United States in 1951. Arriving in New York, Oznowicz spent his last dollar putting his pregnant wife and two sons safely on the train for their new home in Montana, where the family who had sponsored their immigration were waiting, then hitchhiked the rest of the way himself. After a short stay in Montana, the family moved to Oakland, California, living briefly in an attic until Mike found employment as a window dresser for women's apparel stores. A lifelong puppetry enthusiast, Mike and his wife had become active members of the Puppeteers of America and were, in Jim's opinion, \"marvelous, very outgoing\" people and terrific performers.\n\nJim was just as intrigued by their son Frank, now a quietly intense teenager approaching his senior year in high school, and already a gifted performer of marionettes. But despite his talent, for the young Frank Oznowicz\u2014he would later shorten it to Oz\u2014puppetry was only a hobby, and an almost incidental one at that, placing a distant third behind girls and sports. \"I never wanted to be a puppeteer,\" Oz said. Still, it was difficult to ignore puppetry in the Oznowicz home\u2014\"Our house was like a salon for puppeteers and performers,\" Oz said later\u2014and by his own admission he had \"latched on to\" puppetry both as a way of pleasing his parents and to raise money for a planned trip to Europe. At age fourteen, then, he had joined Lettie Schubert's traveling Vagabond Puppets team at the Oakland Recreation Department, then performed regularly\u2014and without pay\u2014at Fairyland Amusement Park, where he struck up a friendship with a young man named Jerry Juhl, five years his senior, and an equally talented performer who had lately become a regular in the Oznowicz home \"salon.\"\n\nOz had come to the Asilomar convention mainly to perform with Juhl and another Vagabond puppeteer in a show Juhl had written called _The Witch Who Stole Thursday;_ he also wanted to participate in a talent contest, which, predictably, he won. While his parents had met Jim in Detroit a year earlier, Oz knew nothing about him, though he was slightly familiar with the Muppets, thanks to the Wilkins and Wontkins commercials Jim had produced for the regional carbonated drink CalSo. Those ads had impressed him, Oz remembered, because \"they weren't like anything else!\" When he finally met Jim in person, Oz couldn't help but be enchanted by the soft-spoken twenty-four-year-old who could suddenly become a manic force of nature once a puppet was placed in his hands. \"He was this very quiet, shy guy,\" Oz said, \"who did these absolutely fucking amazing puppets that were totally brand new and fresh, that had never been done before.\"\n\nOnce in Jim's presence, it was easy to get caught up in the excitement, and Oz\u2014who admitted that puppetry was a good way for a self-described \"shy, self-effacing boy\" to express himself\u2014performed several short routines with his father, including a sketch called \"Sunday Painter,\" in which a painter sets out to paint a picture of an uncooperative flower, which sags and rights itself, much to the painter's frustration. Afterward, Jim pulled Oz aside to discuss the performance. \"He said, 'The ending is weak!' \" Oz recalled, still laughing at the comment five decades later. \"That was very Jim. My ending was a bit arty, whereas Jim liked things to be blown up or eaten!\"\n\nDespite the ending, Jim was impressed enough with the young man's skills to discuss with Mike and Frances Oznowicz the possibility of their son coming back east to join him at Muppets, Inc. But Oz was barely seventeen, and still in high school. \"He was really still at home and not ready to come east,\" Jim remembered, \"but we talked about it as an idea.\" And with that idea, a seed had been planted\u2014one that would grow and blossom into one of the finest, and funniest, creative and productive partnerships in entertainment.\n\nYears later, Jim would admit that there were moments in his life when he felt that \"somebody or something\" was guiding him. This felt like one of those moments\u2014and he would later chalk up his lifelong partnership with Frank Oz to a fortunate bit of serendipity. \"I think it was an accident,\" Jim said years later. \"I don't think I was consciously looking for somebody.\" Instead, somebody or something had found them for each other. Oz might have agreed: it was only by chance that he had even been at the convention in the first place. \"I never used to go to [puppetry conventions] ever... except for this one I went to when I was seventeen years old, and Jim happened to be there.\"\n\nFor now, Oz would remain in California to finish high school. But Oz thought he knew someone else who might work well with Jim, and recommended Jim speak to his fellow Vagabond puppeteer, Jerry Juhl.\n\nJuhl, unlike Oz, _did_ want to be a puppeteer. Born Jerome Ravn Juhl in St. Paul, Minnesota, the twenty-one-year-old Juhl had been building and performing puppets since the age of eleven\u2014and after moving to Menlo Park, California, had founded the Menlo Marionettes while still in high school. After graduating from San Jose State College with a degree in speech and drama, he had joined, then headed, the Vagabond Puppets\u2014where he tapped the young Frank Oz as his assistant\u2014and co-created and performed the puppet Pup on the local children's television show _Sylvie and Pup_. With his thick glasses and neatly coiffed hair, Juhl looked more like an insurance salesman than a puppeteer. But behind the businesslike demeanor was a wit as rapier sharp as Jim's, and the same sense of playful fun.\n\nJuhl was familiar with the Muppets through their various television appearances, and found their unpredictable edge strangely fascinating. \"The Muppets already had a cult following,\" Juhl said, \"with a reputation for bizarre, slightly dangerous comedy.\" Juhl was unprepared, then, for his first glimpse of the man responsible for such outlandish humor. \"Jim seemed so utterly _normal_ ,\" Juhl recalled. \"He had driven across the country in a shiny new station wagon with his wife, Jane, and baby Lisa. They looked as average and suburban as actors in a Chevrolet commercial.\"\n\nJim invited Juhl out to the parking lot where he had parked his station wagon with the large black box of Muppets in the back. In a scene that would have been familiar to Bernie Brillstein, Jim opened the box, took out his Muppets one by one, and began to perform. And like Brillstein, Juhl never forgot what he saw that afternoon:\n\nThe things he brought out of that box seemed to me to be magical presences, like totems, but funnier. An angry creature whose whole body was a rounded triangle; a purple skull named Yorick; a green froglike thing. One after another, Jim pulled them from the box, put them on his hand and brought them to life. Who was this Henson guy? These things weren't puppets\u2014not as I had ever seen or defined them.\n\nJuhl was speechless. \"This guy was like a sailor who had studied the compass and found that there was a fifth direction in which one could sail.\" There was no doubt in his mind as to his decision. \"When he offered me a berth on that ship, I signed on,\" making Juhl the first official full-time employee of Muppets, Inc.\n\nShortly after returning to Maryland in August, Jane gave birth to their second child, Cheryl. The newly hired Jerry Juhl took over Jane's performing duties on _Sam and Friends_ , which was still one of WRC's most popular programs after more than six years. Jim, however, was again growing tired of the five-minutes-twice-a-day routine of _Sam and Friends_. The show had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams\u2014but Jim was dreaming even wilder now, and was looking for opportunities to try something new.\n\nHe would have his chance sooner than expected, thanks to a fortuitous invitation from the U.S. Department of Agriculture\u2014an invitation so out of the blue that it may have come about, in part, through Paul Henson's contacts inside the USDA. In mid-November 1961, the USDA would be hosting a weeklong U.S. Food Fair in Hamburg, Germany\u2014part of the U.S. government's effort to \"develop and expand the sale and use of U.S. foods and agriculture products and commodities\" throughout Europe\u2014and fair officials were wondering if Jim, and _Sam and Friends_ , might be interested in providing entertainment at one of the pavilions.\n\nJim agreed to participate\u2014but not with _Sam and Friends_. For Jim, this was the opportunity he had been looking for to try something different\u2014and, better yet, it could be done far away from a home crowd that still expected Sam and Kermit to lip-synch to Stan Freberg records. He and Juhl set to work writing a number of skits that would allow them to showcase several new kinds of puppets, and even tapped the brilliant young beat comedian Del Close\u2014whose work Jim was likely familiar with through Close's 1959 comedy record _How to Speak Hip_ \u2014to write a sketch for the show. If the Hamburg fair was a trial run for the next stage of Muppets, Inc., Jim was taking the opportunity seriously, diligently typing up a formal presentation for government officials, renewing his passport, and corresponding politely with USDA employees who were convinced they knew better than Jim what was funny. For Jim, it wasn't just about being funny; it was also about gauging the audience's response to new kinds of puppetry and performances and figuring out what worked and what didn't. \"If... one or two of these bits either doesn't live up to expectations, or doesn't perform well with the audiences,\" Jim assured his hosts, \"I will withdraw that particular bit and double up one of the others.\"\n\nOne of the first sketches presented in Hamburg was \"The Drill Team,\" featuring, as Jim explained, \"a rather ingenious set of mechanical puppets\"\u2014a military drill team made of wood, each with moving arms and painted, smiling faces, mounted to a rolling rack so the figures would move in unison. The piece\u2014which mainly involved their commanding officer barking inarticulate orders as he put the drill team through their moves\u2014was full of little surprises: the drill team fired guns that emitted smoke\u2014usually just powder blown through a straw\u2014and when at the end of the skit the team trained its fire on their captain, the figure's nose lit up. But the audience responded with only polite enthusiasm. While Jim would haul the routine out from time to time over the next few years, he would eventually shelve it.\n\nMuch better received was \"The Chef's Salad,\" an improv piece featuring Omar as an inattentive chef who crazily cuts up food\u2014and everything else\u2014as he prepares a salad. For the first time, Jim performed with a \"live hand\" puppet, in which the main puppeteer performs the puppet's mouth and inserts his other hand\u2014usually the left, since most right-handed puppeteers prefer to operate the character's mouth with their dominant hand\u2014into the puppet's left glove hand. Meanwhile, a second performer, in this case Juhl, operates the puppet's right hand. This setup requires a great deal of coordination to ensure the puppeteers work seamlessly\u2014the right hand needs to know almost instinctively what the left hand is up to\u2014but when done well, it allows the puppet to handle objects deftly and turn in a much more believable performance. In this case, Jim and Juhl performed the character flawlessly, with Jim ranting in mock German as they hurled cheese and eggs into a bowl, blew Omar's nose into a handkerchief\u2014which was thrown in the bowl as well\u2014then stirred the mix with gusto. Jim still couldn't resist ending the sketch in true Muppet fashion\u2014the concoction exploded in Omar's face\u2014and the crowd roared its approval. The piece would stay, and fifteen years later, Jim would use almost exactly the same setup\u2014all the way down to the mock foreign dialect\u2014for _The Muppet Show_ 's Swedish Chef.\n\nOne of the most ambitious and weirdly odd pieces was a lip-synch performance to Marlene Dietrich's \"Time on My Hands,\" performed by a new puppet Jim called Limbo the Floating Face. Limbo, as Jim described it, was \"a very flexible face\"\u2014mostly just a mouth and eyes\u2014performed by tugging on an elaborate rigging of nearly invisible fish line at the bottom of a frame that caused the foam rubber mouth to open and close and the eyes to widen or crinkle shut. It was a complicated puppet, and Jim was proud of it, calling it \"revolutionary.\" The Hamburg crowd greeted the performance warmly, though with some confusion\u2014but Jim was pleased with it and would perform variations on the piece for the next decade, unveiling it on talk shows and, in an ambitious computer-animated form, on _Sesame Street_.\n\nThe USDA was thrilled with Jim and Jerry's performance, hailing it as \"a spectacular feat of entertainment,\" and Jim must have been pleased as his plane touched down in New York at the end of November. For the most part, the performances had been a departure from his more familiar style of Muppets, but the crowd had responded favorably. With some more work, he could start introducing these more experimental forms of puppetry in front of American audiences.\n\nFirst, however, it was time to close up shop on _Sam and Friends. Sam_ would make his exit quite literally with a bang, as the final episode\u2014broadcast at 11:25 on Friday, December 15, 1961\u2014would conclude with what was becoming a Muppet kind of ending, with the _Sam and Friends_ set exploding and falling to pieces around the cast.\n\nThere was an uproar from _Sam_ 's fans over its demise, but Jim was too busy to notice. In February 1962, he and Jerry Juhl headed for Europe again, this time to take part in a \"Green Week\" show in Berlin, hosted by the U.S. Information Agency. Jim chose to perform many of the same skits he and Juhl had used in the Hamburg show, with one major addition: he was determined, after the lukewarm reception of the \"Drill Team\" piece in Hamburg, to come up with a mechanical puppet performance that worked.\n\nHe succeeded, for the most part, because the new performance was so funny. Lampooning \"the average European impression of the average American tourist,\" Jim's new mechanical puppets were based on the stereotype of the ugly American, featuring a cigar-chomping loudmouth in a Hawaiian shirt who demands he be sold one of the Alps so he can build a hotel, and an abrasive, gum-smacking woman who patronizingly advises audiences to always learn a few words in a foreign language \"to make the natives feel more at home.\" The audience loved it, and Jim went home satisfied with his early experiment in animatronics\u2014a field he would come to redefine decades later in his highly successful and always innovative Creature Shop.\n\nIn June 1962, Jim and his team\u2014including Jane, Jerry Juhl, and Bobby Payne\u2014traveled by train to Atlanta, Georgia, to tape a half-hour pilot Jim and Juhl had written, called _Tales of the Tinkerdee. Tinkerdee_ was Jim's opportunity to work with the conceits of folklore and fairy tales, still of great interest to him since his visit to Europe, and to put to work\u2014in a pared-down manner\u2014some of the \"overcomplicated\" storytelling elements of the unrealized _Hansel and Gretel_ project. Instead of adapting an existing story, however, _Tinkerdee_ allowed Jim to create his own magical kingdom, populate it with his own characters, and tell a story in his own unique madcap style without the need to be deferential to source material. It would also be a chance to introduce a number of live hand Muppets, the first Jim would use in an American production following their successful Hamburg debut.\n\nThe plot of _Tinkerdee_ revolves around King Goshposh and his plans to throw a birthday party for his daughter, Princess Gwendolinda, and the parallel efforts of Taminella Grinderfall, \"the witchiest witch of all,\" to crash the party, conk the princess on the head, and make off with the gifts. With the help of Charlie the Ogre, Taminella uses a variety of disguises to infiltrate the castle, where she is finally caught and imprisoned by the king. \"It was really just half-an-hour of one-line jokes,\" said Juhl later. \"We'd done those kind of gags before, on _Sam and Friends_... but this was the first time we'd stretched them to fill thirty minutes.\"\n\n_Stretched_ was a rather unfair assessment, for _Tinkerdee_ is a gallopingly fast-paced piece. At no time does the camera linger or the pace sag, and with only six speaking characters, Jim makes all their moments count. Jim's King Goshposh is the kind of clueless authority figure Jim loved to play, dispensing nuggets of dopey advice while gnawing on a cigar (in a masterful bit of puppet design and craftsmanship, the cigar seeped real smoke). Jim himself even makes a cameo appearance, of sorts, as Taminella's dimwitted sidekick, Charlie the Ogre, visible only from the waist down, his bare legs spattered with mud.\n\nServing as _Tinkerdee_ 's narrator and Greek chorus is Kermit, dressed as a minstrel and strumming a lute. \"You'd see him on little grassy knolls singing the narration we had written in the form of quatrains and god-awful puns and hideous rhymes,\" said Juhl. More significantly, with his crenulated minstrel collar on, Kermit suddenly looks every inch a frog\u2014or close enough so that from here on out it would be a no-brainer to definitively call him one. \"We frogified him,\" Jim said later, only slightly lamenting the loss of the abstraction. \"He just slowly became a frog.\"\n\nDespite the more nimble live hand Muppets, rock-solid performances, and some laugh-out-loud moments (typically, Jim couldn't resist ending the episode with a pie in the face), _Tales of the Tinkerdee_ failed to pique the interest of any TV network. Perhaps the humor was too similar to _Rocky and Bullwinkle_ \u2014an admitted influence\u2014for executives to fully appreciate its originality. More likely, the networks simply didn't share Jim's confidence that the Muppets could hold their own for thirty minutes\u2014or, barring that, attract a demographically desirable audience. While Jim had never billed himself as a kids' act, network suits simply couldn't see puppets as anything but entertainment for children, in spite of Jim's hard work to the contrary. Just as _The Flintstones_ \u2014or, later, _The Simpsons_ \u2014would demonstrate that cartoons could transcend a stereotypically young audience and hold their own with adult viewers, so, too, would Jim have to decisively prove that the Muppets could attract and hold a decidedly more grown-up audience.\n\nIn less than a year, Jim would make his point\u2014and the Muppets would become a national phenomenon. But it would be a dog, not a frog, who would lead the way.\n\n# **CHAPTER FIVE**\n\n#\n\n# A CRAZY LITTLE BAND  \n1962\u20131969\n\n_Frank Oz, Jim, and Jerry Juhl wrestle with Muppet monster Big V_. (photo credit 5.1)\n\nIN JUNE 1962, AROUND THE TIME JIM WAS COMPLETING WORK ON THE _Tinkerdee_ pilot in Atlanta, the Puppeteers of America\u2014this time holding its annual festival in Oxford, Ohio\u2014announced that it had elected Jim Henson as president of the organization. That made Jim, at twenty-five, the youngest performer to hold the position. Considering both his youth and the fact that he had been a member of the organization for only a little more than two years, Jim's election as its leader says much about his increasing importance and influence on puppetry.\n\nTo Jerry Juhl and other puppeteers who understood how far Jim had advanced their craft beyond traditional puppetry, Jim's ascension within their ranks was no surprise. \"For puppeteers, [watching the Muppets] was just absolutely startling,\" Juhl said. \"[They were] puppets that didn't look like puppets had ever looked. It was just phenomenal.... It was the mobility of the faces, and the total abstraction of them.\"\n\nWhile puppeteers may have appreciated how different and sophisticated the Muppets were, television executives didn't. The lack of interest in _Tinkerdee_ , while disappointing, was, Jim thought, typical of those who didn't understand the craft. \"When you try to sell anyone on puppets, it's the old problem,\" he told the _New York Post_. \"They automatically say, 'Puppets are for kids.' \"\n\nWhile network executives may not have been willing to green-light a regular Muppet television show, booking agents were still more than happy to have the Muppets appear on variety and talk shows. In late spring, the Muppets were asked to be regulars on _Mad, Mad World_ , a new sketch show satirizing news and current events, and co-written by Larry Gelbart, whose _A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum_ had just opened on Broadway. On paper, it seemed it couldn't miss, and Jim and Jerry Juhl gamely performed the Limbo bit, as well as \"Visual Thinking.\" But the show sagged when the Muppets weren't on-screen, bogging down in stale political humor and _faux_ man-on-the-street interviews. _Mad, Mad World_ wouldn't survive beyond the pilot episode.\n\nA better opportunity began in the fall, when the Muppets began appearing regularly on the _Today_ show, with Jim and Jerry Juhl making the trip from Washington to New York at a pace of about once a week to be ready for the 7:00 A.M. broadcast. Apart from the more familiar sketches\u2014there was \"Visual Thinking,\" as well as variations on the \"Chef's Salad\" piece\u2014Jim was anxious to introduce skits featuring characters from _Tinkerdee_. He was proud of the advances he had made with live hand puppets, and considered the Taminella Grinderfall Muppet a genuine breakthrough. \"We have a witch who is delightful,\" Jim said of Taminella. \"The gestures and expressions she can get are wonderful. I consider her probably our best character to date.\" So pleased was Jim with the live hand performances, in fact, that he would take the first available opportunity to perform one for a commercial.\n\nIn late 1962, Jim was approached by Ralph Freeman, an ad man for the James Lovick & Company advertising agency of Toronto, about putting together a series of Purina Dog Chow commercials for Canadian television. While Purina wanted its ads to have the same edge as the Wilkins coffee commercials, it didn't want the ads to feature Wilkins and Wontkins. Instead, Freeman helpfully passed along several ideas from Purina, most featuring two dogs bantering about Purina Dog Chow. Jim likely groaned at the material from Purina\u2014here was someone trying to tell him how to be funny again\u2014but agreed to produce seven commercials for Purina, and set to work designing new characters for the ads.\n\nIn his sketchbook, Jim drew several different kinds of dogs, finally deciding that the two he liked best were a small dog with a pointy nose and fluffy ears, and a larger one with a round head, wide mouth, floppy ears, and wide eyes. The smaller dog, in a nod to the Sherlock Holmes story, Jim decided to name Baskerville. As for the other, Jim had written up a list of possible names\u2014Barkley, Woofington, Howlington, Boundwell\u2014but most of those were a mouthful. A better name, it seemed, was signed at the bottom of each letter Jim received from his contact at the Lovick advertising agency: Ralph Freeman. Ralph it would be, then\u2014or Rowlf, as Jim would later spell it\u2014much to the delight of the Lovick firm.\n\nFor the first time, Jim decided not to build his Muppet himself, handing the character sketches off instead to Burr Tillstrom's master puppet builder, thirty-four-year-old Don Sahlin, whom Jim had met at the Puppeteers of America convention in Detroit in 1960. Using Jim's sketches, Sahlin drew his own design for Rowlf, noting the height and relative scales of the puppet, then set to work building the puppet. Sahlin\u2014a talented marionettist and puppeteer who had also created special effects for films like _Tom Thumb_ and _The Time Machine_ \u2014had a remarkable ability to translate Jim's sketches into three dimensions, a bit of artistic symbiosis Jim appreciated. \"I would generally do a little scribble on a scrap of paper, which Don would regard with a certain reverence as being the 'essence' which he was working toward,\" said Jim. \"Don had a very simple way of working\u2014reducing all nonessential things and honing in on what was important.\"\n\nIn particular, Sahlin understood\u2014as did Jim\u2014that the placement of the eyes was critical. \"That single decision seemed to finalize the character more than anything else,\" Jim said later. Part of the trick was to pay careful attention to an area Sahlin came to call \"The Magic Triangle\"\u2014the zone defined by the relative position of the character's eyes to its nose and mouth. So important were the eyes, in fact, that Sahlin would always ask that Jim be present when he placed any character's eyes. \"He always wanted me there, to make sure it was right for both of us, making sure the eyes had a point of focus,\" Jim said. \"Because without that, you had no character.\"\n\nThe Ralph\/Rowlf Muppet that Sahlin delivered to Jim definitely had character\u2014a beautifully constructed, live hand puppet that almost magically seemed to embody Jim's initial sketches. He was also a deceptively simple puppet, not much more than the wide mouth, floppy ears, and wide eyes Jim had drawn\u2014and yet something in Sahlin's nearly abstract design gave Rowlf an expressiveness, a twinkle that Jim would spark to life. Impressed, Jim quickly hired Sahlin as the Muppets' chief designer and puppet builder, where his sense of expressive abstraction\u2014as well as his ability to sew an almost invisible seam that came to be known as \"the Henson Stitch\"\u2014would define the look of the Muppets for more than a decade. Indeed, it was Sahlin, Jim said, who \"had more to do with the basic style that people think of as the Muppets than anybody else.\"\n\nJim billed Purina $1,500 for the costs of building Rowlf and Baskerville, then shot seven quick commercials for the company. Bernie Brillstein later recalled\u2014though he was never certain if the offer came from Purina or another client\u2014that Jim was offered $100,000 for the company to own Rowlf outright. Brillstein nearly leapt at the offer, but Jim immediately squashed the deal. \"Bernie,\" warned Jim, \" _never sell anything I own._ \" \"He knew then,\" said Brillstein. \"He has this whole business side. He had these _sides_ to him that were so complex, and when I least thought he'd understand something, he understood it better than I did. So he taught me a long time ago, don't sell what you create.\" (Frank Oz thought Jim's determination in this regard was rooted in his business dealings with the Wilkins company, where Jim had often struggled\u2014not always successfully\u2014to maintain clear ownership, and marketing, of his characters.) With Rowlf still safely in Jim's ownership, work was completed on the commercials and Rowlf, said Jim, was \"tossed into a cupboard with a dozen other puppets and nearly forgotten.\" \"We were never told whether the commercials sold the dog food or not,\" Jim said with a shrug, then\u2014quite literally\u2014moved on.\n\nOn Wednesday, January 23, 1963, a moving truck pulled away from the Henson home in Bethesda, bound for New York City. The family\u2014and the Muppets\u2014were moving to New York, a decision that had prompted little discussion or hesitation on Jim's part. \"Anyone in this business of television has to live in Los Angeles or New York,\" said Jim plainly.\n\nThe Hensons and Juhl began their drive to New York later that afternoon, with Jim and Jane traveling with the kids in the station wagon and Juhl driving Jim's newest sports car, a glimmering Porsche. It was so bitterly cold that the rear window of the Porsche shattered, leaving Juhl shivering at the wheel and coming down with the flu as he drove. Eventually the car broke down, stranding Juhl at a roadside hotel.\n\nWhile Juhl was marooned, Jim and Jane managed to continue driving through the night toward their new apartment, arriving in Manhattan around 5:00 A.M. The Muppets were scheduled to make an appearance on the _Today_ show that same morning\u2014and rather than cancel or reschedule after the exhausting drive, Jim and Jane simply headed to the NBC studios at 30 Rockefeller Center, arriving just in time to rehearse and perform two pieces live\u2014and without Juhl. It was chaos, but it was \"totally typical of the way Jim worked,\" laughed Juhl. \"He was moving his entire family, his entire life, _and me_ , from Maryland to the middle of New York City. His whole life [was] in total upheaval.\" Yet, Jim's attitude, said Juhl, was \"we might as well do the _Today_ show!\"\n\nThe Hensons moved to Beekman Place on Manhattan's East Side, taking up residence on the eleventh floor of the same \"wonderful old apartment building\" as Burr Tillstrom, who had helped them find the place. While it had two good-sized bedrooms and large living spaces, it actually wasn't much bigger than their place in Bethesda. But with its stern facade and an apartment that afforded spectacular views of the city, it was definitely more exciting and glamorous than Maryland. The Hensons were moving up.\n\nSo were the Muppets. At the same time, Jim set up headquarters for Muppets, Inc. just around the corner from the Beekman Place apartment, renting out the second floor of a townhouse at 303 East 53rd Street, above a trendy nightclub called Chuck's Composite. In the small front room overlooking 53rd Street, Jim set up a workshop for Don Sahlin\u2014who officially began his employment with the Muppets in February 1963\u2014cramming Don's sewing table and workbench alongside Jim's animation stand. As a final touch typical of both Jim and Sahlin, an oversized version of Yorick gaped out the window at the street below.\n\nIn the main room, just across from the front door, sat Jerry Juhl at a desk next to the Ampex tape machine, on which Jim would still prerecord some voice tracks for Muppet performances. Against the opposite wall was a long workbench and a small closet door on which Jim hung a dartboard\u2014and, above that, a light-up, papier-m\u00e2ch\u00e9 moose head. In the back corner, directly in front of the sliding glass door that led out to the rear balcony, Jim set up his desk, with a big black padded Eames chair and matching ottoman. \"[Our] spaces never looked like offices,\" Juhl said. \"We did it up as a kind of lovely, pleasant living room.\"\n\nFor the next few months, Jim and Juhl continued their regular routine of weekly _Today_ show performances and filming more explosive coffee commercials, even as Jim\u2014actively embracing his role as president of Puppeteers of America\u2014presided over the organization's annual festival in Hurleyville, New York. Following a family vacation to the Olympic Peninsula near Seattle in July, Jim returned to New York in early August to hire a secretary to handle correspondence and answer the phone. He also readied a space in the offices for another performer he had recently hired: nineteen-year-old Frank Oz, who had graduated from high school in Oakland in late spring.\n\nFollowing Oz's graduation, Jim had called Mike and Frances Oznowicz to have a \"very serious\" conversation about their son moving to New York to join the Muppets. \"Having your young son move across the country... I mean, they knew I wasn't coming back. It had to be hard,\" Oz said. \"But my parents knew Jim. They knew he was a good person.\" And so the Oznowiczes had said yes\u2014and in August 1963, Frank Oz formally joined the Muppets, bounding up the narrow stairway at the townhouse on 53rd Street and entering the living-room-like space that would change his life. \"This is the room where Jim, wearing his bright flowered ties and speaking just above a whisper, would hold meetings with clients,\" Oz recalled fondly. \"This is where Jim and I and Don and Jerry would hear that Kennedy had been shot. This is where we'd eat the deli sandwiches with those funny-tasting East Coast pickles. For the kid from Oakland, everything here was new and strange and exciting and adult.\"\n\nWhile the kid from Oakland had committed to moving to New York to work, he was hired at first only part-time, mostly performing Wontkins in commercials, and earning $100 a week. When Oz wasn't working, he was taking classes at the City College of New York, mainly to appease his parents, who wanted him to get an education. \"But I didn't come to New York to go to school,\" Oz said. \"I came to work!\"\n\nRegular work would come shortly. That summer, the Muppets were asked to make an appearance on the first seven episodes of a new version of _The Jimmy Dean Show_ , a variety show featuring the popular country singer, which was set to debut on ABC in early fall. The timing was ideal: Jim and Juhl had wrapped up their weekly _Today_ show appearances in late June, and no new appearances had yet been scheduled. The offer from Dean was definitely worth considering.\n\nTall, lanky, and goofily handsome, the talented, Texas-born Jimmy Dean had an easygoing manner\u2014and matching drawl\u2014that belied a hardscrabble determination. A high school dropout who had been raised by a single mother, his first real break came in 1953 at the age of twenty-five with the small hit \"Bummin' Around.\" That opened up a career for Dean as an on-air personality in Washington, D.C., working first on radio and then, in 1957, as host of _Country Style_ on WTOP-TV\u2014a show so popular that it was picked up and syndicated nationally by CBS.\n\nIn 1961, Dean had a monster hit with the song \"Big Bad John,\" which camped at number one for several weeks and won Dean a 1962 Grammy. Riding high on the single, Dean made numerous television appearances, including a successful stint as a guest host of _The Tonight Show_ , which racked up impressive enough ratings that several networks, as Dean put it, \"began looking at ol' JD with dollar signs in their eyes.\" The winner of the bidding war was ABC\u2014and now that he was at the helm of his own show, Dean was searching for guests for his first few weeks. In particular, Dean recalled an act he had seen on television while living and working in D.C. in the late 1950s, and asked producer Bob Banner to \"check out a particular act... that I remembered doing Wilkins Coffee commercials,\" Dean said. Jim, and the Muppets, were tracked down by producers and immediately hired.\n\nOn August 29, 1963, as videotape rolled at ABC's Studio 51, Dean introduced the Muppets as \"one of the most talented groups I've ever seen.\" Jim, Jerry Juhl, and Frank Oz launched into \"Cool Jazz,\" one of their artier pieces in which gloved hands \"dance\" to various kinds of music, a reliably solid piece that Jim had recently put into their variety show rotation. For the Muppets' next segment, Jim and Oz performed Rowlf\u2014only just rescued from the cupboard at the Muppet workshop where he had been retired after the Purina commercials\u2014singing \"Moon River\" with the Willis Sisters. This, too, was a solid performance, though there was little indication that something special was happening. That changed the following week, when Rowlf was given the opportunity to participate in a sketch with Dean himself. The two chatted amiably for several minutes, then sang a spirited duet of the old Bert Williams song \"Nobody,\" which Dean had recorded the year before.\n\nThe performance sparkled. With Jim giving a charming and entirely convincing performance\u2014and Dean believing in Rowlf completely\u2014there was a chemistry that \"turned out to be the hit of the show,\" said Dean. ABC was bombarded with fan mail for Rowlf, and the following week, as he introduced Rowlf as his \"old hound dog buddy,\" Dean acknowledged that they'd \"had all kinds of people asking us to have him back again.\" The two then launched into a lively duet of \"Side by Side\"\u2014and with that, what was initially to be a seven-week stint turned into regular weekly appearances on the show for the next three years, with Jim and Oz performing Rowlf for twenty-seven straight weeks in the first season alone.\n\nPerforming Rowlf on _Jimmy Dean_ was a different experience from previous Muppet performances. For one thing, Jim wasn't directly involved in the writing of Rowlf's sketches. While Rowlf and Dean's banter sounded casual and ad-libbed, it was actually tightly scripted, all the way down to Rowlf's double-takes and slow-burn reactions\u2014and Jim had to put himself, and his character, in the hands of Dean's writing staff. It was a creative leap of faith, but Jim was fortunate in that Dean had surrounded himself with seasoned comedy writers like Buddy Arnold, who'd written for Milton Berle, and John Aylesworth, Will Glickman, and Frank Peppiatt, who wrote regularly for countless variety shows. \"These were old-school guys,\" Oz said, and Jim\u2014who had been willing to learn camera tricks and production techniques from old hands at WRC\u2014was equally as thrilled by the opportunity to immerse himself firsthand in this old school of comedy writing. And so, Jim would sit in the writers' room as Aylesworth and his staff hashed around ideas and punch lines. \"We would spend all week working on this little dialogue until it was honed to perfection,\" Jim said. \"They would work with me in terms of performance and the delivery of punch lines.... It's amazing the little things the audience is not aware of\u2014things that affect their response in terms of a laugh.\"\n\nJim also had to adjust to working live; since he and Dean would be playing off of each other, there would be no prerecorded soundtrack for lip-synching, as Jim had done for _Sam and Friends_. Instead, Dean would chat with Rowlf live in the studio, usually seated on a bench against a low wall over which Rowlf would appear. Jim and Oz would crouch together behind the wall, Oz pressed up under Jim's right armpit as he operated Rowlf's right hand, and both of them intently watching their performance on a small monitor. It might have looked like a tangle, but Jim claimed performing the live hand puppet was \"really quite simple. The only complicated gestures are things like trying to applaud.\" As for performing the right hand, the trick, Oz said, \"is not to do too much.\" It was physically tough work, squatting with their arms over their heads for over seven minutes, but the results were remarkable. The performance was so convincing, in fact, that Jim would often catch the cue card man holding up cards for Rowlf to read, while other times the microphone boom operator would swing the microphone over Rowlf's head, forgetting that Jim was actually speaking on a miked headset behind the low wall.\n\n\"As we first had Rowlf set up, he was a deep thinker, a dog who went into monologues,\" Jim said. \"Working with Jimmy suddenly transformed Rowlf into a most human thing.... None of my Muppets had ever worked with humans before, and Jimmy Dean... turned Rowlf into a perfectly believable human kind of dog.\" Indeed, Dean believed in Rowlf so completely that he would sometimes genuinely break up when Rowlf delivered one-liners, laughing so hard that he was unable to sing. \"I treated Rowlf like he was real, but he _was_ real to me,\" Dean said, \"and I think that's one of the reasons he made such an impression on everyone.\" For many, the impression continued even after the cameras stopped rolling. Dean's secretary, for one, could easily lose herself in the illusion. During a particularly boisterous rehearsal in Dean's office, Dean gave Rowlf a playful cuff on the ear that sent his eye flying off his head and across the room. Horrified, the secretary screamed and ran. Dean's secretary wasn't the only believer; viewers were sending Rowlf over two thousand fan letters each week, more than even Dean himself received. \"It's been interesting for me to watch people come to believe in a puppet so completely,\" Jim remarked.\n\n_The Jimmy Dean Show_ was so successful that Dean took it on the road, performing an extended version of his television show before live audiences in a wide variety of venues across the country, from Las Vegas and Carnegie Hall to Purdue University and the Louisiana State Fair. Jim and Dean got along well both onstage and off. Besides being a top-notch performer, Dean had a working style very similar to Jim's. \"He's free-form. He's quick on his feet and he knows what he wants,\" said one producer, describing Dean much the way Bob Payne had described Jim (\" _He already knew what he was wanting_!\"). Yet, even as the boss, Dean got on famously with his writers, producers, and other performers. He was a good time as well\u2014\"a rascal,\" Oz called him\u2014hosting regular parties at his home in New Jersey, where he proudly showed off a large collection of dainty crystal champagne flutes. Oz was charmed. \"That was completely unexpected\" of a cowboy, Oz said.\n\nDean also paid generously. In 1963, Jim earned $1,500 per show for the first seven weeks\u2014about $10,000 today\u2014then $1,750 per show for the rest of the first season. By the third season, Dean would pay them $1,800 per week. More important to Jim than the money, the enormous success of Rowlf on a program aimed at an adult audience had proven that puppets weren't just for kids.\n\nCapitalizing on that success, however, would continue to prove difficult. With Rowlf's popularity soaring, Jim proposed a television series featuring Rowlf traveling around the galaxy in a homemade spaceship. The proposal met with some enthusiasm, but Jim was up against the usual puppetry prejudice: no one could see Jim's idea as anything more than a kids' show, which was _not_ where Jim wanted to be. \"He was not interested in kids' stuff,\" stressed Juhl. \"Puppetry was so pigeonholed as a children's medium, particularly on television, and that just wasn't what he did.\"\n\nJuhl also admitted that, despite their regular appearances on _Jimmy Dean_ \u2014which only meant regular pay for about half of each year\u2014there were many times he felt the Muppets might not make it. \"I probably felt a lot more uncertain about it than I think Jim did,\" Juhl said, but \"it all did seem fairly like we were just hanging in there.\"\n\nActually, they were more than just hanging in there; when they weren't working on _Jimmy Dean_ , Jim had his crew back at Muppets, Inc. continue working on commercials, which were still the company's most reliable source of income. The Wilkins ads continued to be hugely popular, and Jim was still fielding offers from coffee, tea, milk, and bread companies around the country who wanted to make use of the Muppets. Initially, Jim allowed the Ver Standig advertising company, which still managed the Wilkins account, to handle the negotiations for these transactions, leaving most of the legwork to Ver Standig's creative director, James W. Young. Unfortunately, as Jim soon discovered, Young had a tendency during tough negotiations to openly bad-mouth Jim, as if doing so would earn him sympathy from potential clients. \"I would have been just as happy if we had not gotten into the muppet business,\" Young griped to one coffee company, while complaining to another that \"it's taken years off my life to deal with them.\"\n\nFinally deciding that enough was enough, Jim hired his own business director, tapping Alden Murray, a former attorney for NBC, to manage \"business operations, including supervision of productions, client contract negotiation and administration, sales development and presentations, public relations... billing and collection.\" Murray, however, would last less than a year. Jim finally decided he could retain greater creative control, and better relationships, if he handled most of the business himself.\n\nNow it was up to Jim to deal directly with Wilkins and other clients, explaining the finer points of union wage scales and costs of videotape, pitching new ideas for commercials, negotiating contracts, writing reams of correspondence, and running down cans of film that had gone astray in the mail. Errant film cans, in fact, were a major source of headaches. Most of the time, Jim used Memphis Picture Laboratories in Tennessee to develop and print his commercials, and the firm had an unfortunate tendency to deliver materials late or at the very last minute. Other times, Jim would mail copies of his commercials\u2014many times the _only_ copy\u2014to a potential client for review, only to scramble to get the film canisters back. \"Could you please return that last film that was sent to you?\" Jim wrote in near panic to one executive. \"I had just spliced that film together... before I could have it duplicated\u2014so that's the only copy in existence.\"\n\n\"It was slapdash,\" Frank Oz said, but one had to remember that there was really \"[no] company behind Jim where he could call upon the resources of various departments to help him with the high quality.... The resources were Don... and Jerry and me.... There was no art department, there was no merchandising... it was just kind of us guys and Jim the leader.\"\n\nAs it turned out, those resources were more than enough to produce some remarkably memorable, and profitable, commercials. One advertising executive noted that when the Muppets were hired to do ads for Kraml milk in Chicago, Kraml leapfrogged from twenty-third in sales among fifty Chicago dairies to an astounding _fifth_. \"Until we had the Muppets nobody had heard of us outside a five-mile radius of the dairy,\" said an amazed Jim Kraml. \"Today everyone within 50 miles of Chicago knows Kraml dairy.\" With those kinds of results, Muppets, Inc. would end up producing commercials for more than fifty companies in less than ten years.\n\nWhen it came to filming the commercials, Jim's studio of preference was still Rodel Studios in Washington, a warehouselike facility in the Foggy Bottom District where Jim and Jane had produced some of the first Wilkins spots. Typically, Jim would make the trip down to D.C. with Oz, Juhl, and Sahlin. \"We'd usually stay in this little hotel in Rosslyn [Virginia], right across the river,\" Oz recalled, \"only we couldn't afford rooms for four people, so we'd get two rooms and flip a coin to see who would share a room with who.\"\n\nThe team wasn't sharing hotel rooms because Jim was being tight-fisted. While the Muppets were being paid well for their commercials\u2014Claussen's Bakeries, for example, laid out $7,500 for eight spots\u2014shooting them could be expensive. Studio time at Rodel could cost as much as $3,500 a day, bringing the costs for a four-day shoot to $12,000. Consequently, there were times the Muppets were barely breaking even for their efforts. But Jim was determined to stay at work, racking up countless hours of studio time, until he was happy with the results. \"Part of what makes the Muppets work,\" said Oz, \"is that we do lots and lots and lots of takes until we get it right.\"\n\nThat kind of commitment made shooting even one ten-second commercial a time-consuming process. There were the usual problems associated with any kind of filming\u2014\"false start\" noted the camera report sheet for one spot\u2014but filming puppets presented its own unique set of challenges that had to be worked around. \"Jim's head in shot,\" one report sheet noted, while another take was scratched because \"[Wilkins] looks wrong.\" Then, of course, shots could break down due to \"very crazy horeseplay\" among the performers. Oz recalled filming one spot where Wontkins was to get hit with eggs, only to find the rest of the Muppet crew too happy to oblige, chucking egg after egg at Wontkins as the cameras rolled. Oz gamely remained hunched beneath for shot after shot, wearing a raincoat dripping with yolk.\n\nOther spots required more elaborate special effects, and Jim was just as determined to keep filming until he was happy with the results. One particular Wilkins ad, for instance, called for Wontkins to be set on fire, an effect achieved through the use of cold flame, a generally harmless substance that burns away quickly and cleanly without actually setting the underlying object on fire. But \"they _soaked_ Wontkins in it,\" Oz recalled. \"I was nervous about it, but Jim said, 'you'll be fine,' which he _always_ said when one of us had to do something crazy!\" As the cameras rolled, a match was touched to Wontkins from below, and the puppet suddenly erupted into a flaming ball of blue and white, dripping and splattering burning cold flame down on Oz, scorching the hair on his arm. Oz plunged his arm\u2014and the still burning Wontkins\u2014into a bucket of water. \" _Hmmm,_ \" said Jim as Wontkins and Oz smoldered. \"Let's do it again.\"\n\nWhile Jim was still drafting many of the commercials himself\u2014neatly typing out proposals or scripts on fine milled paper with an orange bar across the bottom that read _Muppets Script_ \u2014he was turning more and more to Jerry Juhl to do the writing. It was a task Juhl was happy to take on; while he had been hired as a performer, it didn't take long for Juhl to realize that with Oz around, he had \"some pretty high-powered\" competition for performance time. Consequently, said Juhl, \"I thought I'd better do something else if I'm going to make a living here.... We were getting more and more things that needed script material so I just sort of drifted slowly over to become a writer.\" As it turned out, writing was Juhl's true forte.\n\nFollowing the birth of their third child and first son, Brian, in November 1963, Jim and Jane had begun to run out of space in their Manhattan apartment. In April 1964, then, Jim moved his growing family out to Greenwich, Connecticut, choosing a charming nineteenth-century farmhouse on busy Round Hill Road. The house had a distinguished pedigree, having once been owned by the American Impressionist painter John Henry Twachtman, and later remodeled by Stanford White, the New York architect who designed the iconic Washington Square Arch in 1889. Over the next ten years, Jim and Jane would add their own touches as well, colorfully painting many of the house's built-in fixtures and tiling the bathroom in a vibrant mosaic of fish and flowers. \"The house in Greenwich was a special kind of home,\" Lisa Henson recalled. \"I think it must have felt really great to buy a home like that, and to have that piece of property. It was beautiful.\"\n\nThe surrounding property had personality as well. A picturesque stream ran near the rear of the house\u2014it had shown up on several of Twachtman's canvases\u2014where the Hensons would play and skip rocks. Over the garage was an old studio, likely abandoned by the painter, crammed full of old furniture and half-finished paintings, with a dangerously rotten floor. One of the closest neighbors was the creaky, cranky Colonel Twachtman, the son of the painter, who had a parrot that spoke and squawked in the voice of his dead wife. The Henson children would creep up near the house only \"close enough to be shooed off by him,\" then run back down the hill, shrieking, to the safety of their own yard. \"We were always terrified of him!\" Brian Henson said later, laughing.\n\nMost mornings, as Jane drove the children to school in the station wagon, Jim would drive his Porsche the thirty miles from Greenwich into the city, where he was often the first to arrive at the Muppet workshop. One spring morning, Jerry Juhl opened the office door to find Jim sprawled out at his desk, \"sitting with a storyboard pad, drawing this idea out.\" It was an idea for a film, said Jane Henson, which \"came just completely full-blown out of his mind.\"\n\nJim had been working in television for nearly a decade now, and while he had done remarkable work, redefining the way puppets looked and acted on television, he was beginning to feel as confined by the four sides of the television screen as one of his Muppets. _The Jimmy Dean Show_ had provided some welcome national exposure, proving not only that Jim could create a fully formed character but also that puppets could be for adults. But while puppetry had provided Jim with an entry into television\u2014that handy means to an end\u2014television itself was no longer the endgame. Jim was ready to move beyond the confines of the television screen, and he was determined to show that he could do it without puppets. That was no surprise to Juhl, as he watched Jim sketching away at his storyboards. \"Jim wasn't a puppeteer,\" Juhl stressed. \"He got into puppetry because it was a way of getting into television and film... that was really his passion.\"\n\nSo Jim was going to make a movie. Not a full-length feature, or at least not yet; at the moment, that would take too much time. And time was, in fact, exactly what this short film would be about\u2014 _Time to Go_ , Jim called it for several weeks, before finally deciding on _Time Piece_ , \"the story of an Everyman, frustrated by the typical tasks of a typical day,\" as Jim described it. While the Muppet crew would be called on to assist with some of the props or setups, _Time Piece_ would be almost entirely a one-man production, with Jim serving as the film's writer, producer, director, animator, and lead actor. He would even write the music, most of it percussion, with a bit of help from Don Sebesky, who served as Jimmy Dean's musical director. And for the first time, there wouldn't be a single puppet in sight.\n\nWhile there was no script\u2014only the storyboards Juhl had seen\u2014Jim's notes, it seemed, were everywhere. Lists of props were jotted on yellow pads. Across the back of a large envelope, Jim had scribbled LITTLE THINGS, followed by a cryptic checklist: CLOCK BLOW-UP. MARCHING. STAMP PADS. TICKER TAPE. Beneath that was BIG THINGS, with an equally odd list of items: FACTORY. DUNE AREA. FLYING. TOILET FLUSH. On a newspaper-sized sheet of white paper, Jim had drawn up a calendar with his shooting schedule, describing exactly what he or his team would be filming on a given day. Inside the square for Thursday, June 11, 1964, for example, Jim had written:\n\nSHOOT  \nWHISTLER'S MOTHER  \n+  \nMARTINI TABLE  \nSAWING WIFE IN HALF  \nSONG + DANCE  \nBATHROOM\n\nIt may have looked like an avant-garde haiku, but to Jim it all made sense\u2014which was more than the rest of the team could say. \"We didn't know what was going on,\" Oz said later. \"I didn't know what the hell the movie was.\" \"There was this storyboard and Jim pointed and we did it,\" agreed Juhl, who remembered spending the summer of 1964 tromping around mud flats in Newark, \"dropping clocks in mud and having to wade into the mud to get them back.\"\n\nFor the next eight months or so, between appearances on _Jimmy Dean_ , trips to D.C. to film commercials, and a puppetry conference in Miami (Jim would step down as president of the Puppeteers of America for 1964, though he would remain on the board), Jim would grab any opportunity to shoot even a few seconds of footage for his film. \"We were all over the place,\" remembered Oz. \"We were doing [a show in] Vegas and Jim and I went out in the desert and I just [shot a] handheld camera roll. He was running along the mountains in silhouette.\" Other days, Jim would have himself filmed strolling down a New York sidewalk in a loincloth, or shoot several minutes of Oz pogo-sticking in a gorilla costume. \"All those _Time Piece_ shots were so bizarre,\" said Oz.\n\nWhether the rest of the Muppet staff understood what Jim was up to, it was, they knew, clearly \"a personal piece.\" \"It came totally from Jim,\" Juhl said. \"I don't think there was ever a project that came more specifically.\" Thematically, it was a subject Jim had explored before in \"Tick-Tock Sick\": the incessant, relentless, perpetual passage of time. Creatively, it was an opportunity, as Jane said, for Jim to tap \"all [the] different places in his artistic thinking.\"\n\n_Time Piece_ opens simply enough, with Jim\u2014the Everyman\u2014in a hospital bed being examined by a doctor. The sound of Jim's heartbeat and blinking eyes become the percussive rhythm of drumbeats and machinery clicks, and over the next eight minutes the main character's everyday routine\u2014going to work, eating dinner, going out to a nightclub with his wife\u2014unfolds rapidly through a series of \"repeated cuts from realistic scenes,\" as Jim described it, \"to wild dream sequences that seem to comment on the reality they interrupt.\" Each shot, Oz recalled, \"was maybe about a second or four seconds long,\" but Jim made every second count, even tracking in a notebook precisely how many frames of film each shot would take up. Looking at it today, _Time Piece_ plays like an extended alternative music video, cutting quickly from shot to shot\u2014sometimes almost quicker than the eye can register\u2014under a frantic percussion soundtrack.\n\n\"I was... playing with a kind of flow-of-consciousness type of editing,\" Jim said later, \"where one image took you to another and there was no logic to it, but your mind put it together.\" That was true enough, as even the most casual of viewers can't help but feel they've gotten... well, _something_ from it. But the plot is beside the point. The real star is Jim's strong visual sense, which carries the film forward on one memorable image after another: Jim as a gunslinger shooting the _Mona Lisa_. Jim as a factory worker pulling levers as a conveyor belt carries rusty cans. Jim painting a real elephant pink. \"Richard Lester did _A Hard Day's Night_ at about the same time I was doing _Time Piece_ ,\" Jim said later, \"and I just loved what one could do with the montaging of visual images.\"\n\nThrough it all, Jim's Everyman is in constant motion, strolling down sidewalks, swinging Tarzan-style through the jungle, leaping from a diving board, flapping on makeshift wings, or dodging through a cemetery in top hat and tails. It's a race against time, and every sound in the film\u2014Jim's tapping fingers, a cough, a nightclub drummer, a woman's high heels clacking\u2014vibrates with the regular rhythm of a ticking clock. Perhaps tellingly, Jim's Everyman speaks only one word of dialogue, repeating it four times in eight minutes: \" _Help._ \"\n\n\" _Time Piece_ is about time and a man running, and I understand that about Jim,\" Juhl said later. \"Jim was always running from time.... There never would've been enough time, and I think he knew that really early.\" Perhaps it was Jim once again coping with the loss of his brother, Paul, and the feeling that there would never be enough time to do all the things he hoped to do\u2014but then again, maybe it wasn't. \"A lot of people want to say something,\" Jim said. \"But I don't start out to say things. I try to keep it first of all entertaining, and then humorous.\" For the most part, Jim would remain coy about whether he was really trying to make any kind of statement with _Time Piece_ , remarking that he was simply exploring \"the possibility of filmic stream of consciousness.\"\n\nAfter completing the film in May 1965, Jim hosted a premiere party for his \"rather weird little movie\" at the Museum of Modern Art, renting out the fourth-floor screening room and running the film continuously for several hours. Oz, who had initially been unsure exactly what to make of the snippets of film they were shooting, was enthusiastic about the final product: \"It was Jim pushing the form.\" Following the premiere, Jim held a reception at the Muppets headquarters on 53rd Street, drinking champagne with friends and mulling over ways to put the film into a nationwide release, a task he assigned to Bernie Brillstein.\n\nThe agent aggressively made the rounds with copies of the film, which baffled several potential distributors. (\"I don't think there's anything we can do with it,\" wrote a confused representative at United Artists, adding that \"the short does show a certain talent, but I think it's a gimmicky sort of a talent.\") Eventually, Brillstein landed a deal that would distribute the film nationally with French director Claude Lelouch's acclaimed _A Man and a Woman_. That put _Time Piece_ squarely in art house circles, including a highly successful eighteen-month run at the Paris Theatre in New York\u2014an unexpected and distinguished venue for a twenty-eight-year-old whose previous film work had mostly been ten-second commercials with creatures exploding or devouring each other.\n\nWhile _Time Piece_ had been Jim's pet project for nearly a year, there was still plenty going on at Muppets, Inc. During the summer of 1964, following a performance in Las Vegas with Jimmy Dean, Jim and his team had made a trip out to San Francisco to film another _Tinkerdee-based_ pilot, this time at the behest of the Quaker Oats company, which was interested in working with the Muppets on a Saturday morning television series. While Jim would normally have bristled at the idea of straitjacketing himself into a children's puppet show, with _Time Piece_ under way, he perhaps felt he had a project in the works that would help him define himself as more than just \"a puppet guy.\"\n\nStill, this new pilot, _The Land of Tinkerdee_ , was far less ambitious than the earlier _Tales of the Tinkerdee_. Clocking in at less than ten minutes and filmed only in black-and-white, the _Land of Tinkerdee_ pilot was limited to one set\u2014a tinker's workshop\u2014and featured appearances by only two Muppets, King Goshposh and a new live hand sheepdog puppet named Rufus. It's not subpar work, but it does appear that Jim's heart was elsewhere at the time\u2014which it was\u2014and in a December meeting with Quaker Oats, the company opted not to pick up the show. What makes _The Land of Tinkerdee_ memorable, however, is its setup: _Land_ featured a live performer (Darryl Ferreira, a friend of Oz and Juhl's from Oakland) as a tinker who interacts with a Muppet dog in a workshop at the gateway to a magical domain\u2014nearly the same setup as _Fraggle Rock_ twenty years later.\n\nAs the Muppets took on more and more projects, Jim was looking at adding several more employees, at least on a part-time basis, to the Muppet offices. The most notable addition was a bearded thirty-one-year-old performer named Jerry Nelson, a gifted puppeteer who, like Jim and Oz, initially had no interest in puppetry. Born in Oklahoma and raised in Washington, D.C., Nelson had served in the army and, after briefly attending college, moved to New York to become an actor, taking walk-on roles in shows like _The Defenders_ and _Naked City_. In 1964, while out of a job, he learned that puppeteer Bil Baird was looking for performers to work marionettes for a New England tour. Nelson, who hadn't touched a marionette in twenty years, nevertheless ad-libbed his audition with Baird, performing a tough-talking, trench-coated mobster, and landed the job. Later that same summer, while performing with Baird's troupe at the New York World's Fair, Nelson met Jim's old friend Bobby Payne, who suggested Nelson give Jim a call. \"He thought our senses of humor would mesh very nicely,\" recalled Nelson.\n\nAt Jim's request, Nelson submitted a recording of himself performing some character voices, \"mostly just Stan Freberg impressions,\" Nelson said later, laughing. At the moment, Jim was the only performer providing voices\u2014and with Oz insisting that he would \"never\" do a voice (a vow he would stick to only another year), Jim was likely looking at ways to give the Muppets a more diverse sound. If that was indeed the case, Nelson was an ideal find. With his acting background and love of music, Nelson provided not only a wide range of voices, but he could sing\u2014and sing beautifully\u2014as well. Jim listened to the recordings and liked what he heard, then brought Nelson in for a quick audition. The two fell in together immediately; hiring him would be an easy decision.\n\nJim's professional family wasn't the only one that was growing. In April 1965, shortly after returning from a vacation in Puerto Rico, Jane gave birth to their fourth child, a son they named John Paul. That left Jane\u2014with the help of a young au pair\u2014to manage a house with two young girls, a toddler, a newborn, and a new Great Dane puppy named Troy, which Jim had rather cluelessly presented to the already swamped Jane. (Troy, in fact, would prove to be more than _anyone_ could handle and would soon be given away.) With her hands full, and Jim's schedule changing daily, things could get frantic at the Henson household, once with frightening consequences. One June afternoon, Lisa, nearly five, and Cheryl, just shy of four, were playing in the gravel driveway of their Greenwich home when Jane\u2014turning quickly into the short driveway out of the speeding traffic on Round Hill Road\u2014accidentally ran over them with the station wagon.\n\nWhen the phone rang at Muppets, Inc., both Juhl and Oz remember watching Jim as he learned what had happened. One of Jim's strengths as a father, said Cheryl later, was his ability to \"approach things in a calm and kind way,\" but Jane's news shook him deeply. \"He just went ashen,\" Oz recalled, then hung up the phone and rushed from the room without saying a word. \"A terrible day,\" remembered Juhl with a shudder. Although Lisa had been pinned by the car, she wasn't badly hurt, but Cheryl's ankle had been fractured. To Jim's and Jane's relief, both Cheryl and Lisa would be running through the woods by autumn as if nothing had happened\u2014though Lisa would be haunted by nightmares for some time\u2014with Jim trailing behind them, movie camera rolling, getting the footage he would use later in a charming short film called _Run, Run_.\n\nJane could still be found at the downtown offices from time to time, often sitting in front of a mirror with Frank Oz, helping him perfect his lip-synching. \"I sat in front of that mirror for _hours_. Jane was really good at lip-synch,\" said Oz appreciatively\u2014but he thought he understood why Jane had gotten out of regular performing, for reasons that went beyond motherhood. \"A great puppeteer needs to be aggressive and selfish,\" Oz said\u2014qualities, he thought, the artsier Jane lacked. \"It's also important to be uncomfortable. You should be prepared and ready at all times,\" Oz continued. \"If you're comfortable, you're doing it wrong.\"\n\nIf discomfort was truly the mark of a great performer, then when it came to filming a series of commercials for Southern Bread, Jim and his team were definitely doing things right. For the Southern Bread campaign, Jim had asked Sahlin to create a live hand puppet resembling the company's mascot, a white-mustached Southern colonel in a starched white suit and hat. Jim filmed most of the commercials on location, requiring him and Oz or Nelson to squeeze and mash themselves into odd places, lying on railroad tracks, hunching down in cars, or squatting on the pavement outside Yankee Stadium.\n\nMore perilous, however, was a Southern Bread spot Jim had dreamed up that required an arrow to fly in from off-screen and puncture an apple on top of the colonel's head. Jim decided to film the ad in his backyard in Greenwich\u2014this time performing the character with Jerry Nelson\u2014and hired a professional archer, a young woman of about twenty-five, to shoot the arrow through an apple balanced on the puppet's head. \"The gal started walking away to do this,\" Nelson recalled, \"and Jim said 'Oh, you don't have to go _that_ far. You can come up close because the camera won't see it.' And she said, 'No, I have to get a certain distance away, because when the arrow leaves the bow, it waffles.' \" As the archer moved into position twenty yards away, Jim and Nelson knelt on the ground, Jim with his hand up inside the puppet's head, and Nelson crouched under Jim's armpit. \"Jim was fearless,\" Nelson said, but Nelson was _terrified\u2014_ and ducked his head as low as he could as the young woman drew back the bow and took aim.\n\n\"She shot it and hit the apple and knocked it off... [and] I said 'Oh, great!' \" laughed Nelson. But Jim\u2014just as he had with Oz and the flame-engulfed Wontkins\u2014was determined to get the shot right. \"No, that's not what we want,\" Jim insisted; the arrow had to stay _in_ the apple. \"When he had a vision in his mind, he would _chase_ it,\" said Nelson. With cameras rolling, the archer nocked another arrow and fired again and again, finally nailing the apple on the fifth take. As Jane said later, \"That's one of the times I thought, 'Oh my God, he's crazy!' Jim was so fearless at things like that, and [yet] he was so afraid of spiders in the shower!\"\n\nThat was life with the Muppets: a kind of fearless craziness that pervaded nearly every aspect of the business. \"Working at the Muppet office was always fun,\" said Oz, \"especially when Don Sahlin was around.\" While all the Muppet staff enjoyed pranks and jokes, Sahlin was an especially notorious trickster, with the added advantage that he could invent and build nearly anything, which made him particularly potent as a prankster. \"I loved the way Don played,\" said Jim. \"Throughout his life he would play\u2014pick up some bit of feathers and attach a long rubber band to it, stretch it down the hall, and release it as you came into the room. Or he'd put a puppet on the john. He had this sense of playfulness that he actually used, and inspiration would come out of these free-release moments.\"\n\nWhere Jim was involved, too, nothing was ordinary. Even the official letterhead for Muppets, Inc. had a ragged colored bar angling across the page so that letters had to be oddly formatted\u2014a task that fell to secretary Carroll Conroy, who had taken on responsibilities as a bookkeeper in addition to her tasks as Jim's executive secretary. Conroy brought her own sense of fun to Jim's formal correspondence, writing pithy letters to Brillstein or bantering with clients on Jim's behalf (\"With typical speed and efficiency of the broadcasting industry,\" begins one note, \"we just got your letter\"). She also managed to resist the urge to correct the countless clients who constantly misspelled Jim's last name as \"Hensen.\"\n\nThe confusion was probably understandable; after all, it wasn't Jim's name on the door or the company letterhead, but rather The Muppets. Booking agents hired the Muppets, not Jim Henson. \"The Muppets were known,\" Brian Henson said later, \"but he wasn't.\" With their plentiful commercials, countless appearances on variety shows, and Rowlf's continued prominence on _Jimmy Dean_ , it may have looked from the outside like the Muppets was a large organization. Even Jerry Nelson admitted as much; after being hired, he had headed up the stairs of the townhouse of Muppet Studios with stars in his eyes only to discover, to his surprise, that \"it wasn't all that big.\"\n\n\"We were just kind of this crazy little band at that time,\" Oz said later. \"We would go into _The Tonight Show_... with these black boxes and Jim'd have this beard. We'd be these guys and they'd think we were rock musicians.... We were _The Muppets_ , like an act.\" In fact, in an era when rock groups had names like the Troggs or the Animals, being booked into hotels as \"The Muppets\" could sometimes lead to confusion. Once, following a Muppet performance in Los Angeles, a hotel manager refused to give the team their rooms. \"They thought the Muppets were a rock group,\" Juhl said, and were concerned the performers would trash the hotel. Jim managed to smooth things over by having \"a serious conversation\" with the hotel management, though Oz added that Jim \"didn't look very clean cut either!\"\n\nActually, in the mid-1960s, Jim looked more like a beatnik businessman, wearing slacks and crisply starched shirts with brightly colored ties, his brown hair cut short and his beard neatly clipped close to his face. After arriving at the workshop, Jim would roll up his sleeves, then sink down into his black Eames chair, scrunching down until he was almost lying on his back, one long leg on the desk or crossed over the other as he sketched in his notebook or jotted story ideas on yellow notepads. From this position, too, he would discuss story or commercial ideas with the rest of the Muppet team, _hmmmm_ ing or laughing as he considered each suggestion. \"Someone would have an idea, and we'd laugh out loud at it and throw it around some more,\" said Oz.\n\nOne of Jim's more playful ideas\u2014which was thrown around, then finally deposited squarely on the shoulders of Oz\u2014was a spirited ad campaign for La Choy Chinese food. For the first time, Jim designed and built a full-sized walkaround character: a fluorescent pink-and-orange-colored dragon named Delbert who, with the help of some Don Sahlin sorcery, breathed real fire. For the La Choy commercials, Oz lumbered around in the gigantic dragon costume, surprising Boy Scouts and housewives as he knocked over rows of food in a supermarket, crashed through walls, and shattered a television. \"I hated those costume things, and Jim knew it,\" Oz said. \"That's why he reveled in me doing it!\" The problem, Oz explained, was that once he got into the dragon costume, \"I was blind... I counted steps to figure out where to walk and listened to voices so I would know which way to turn.\" It was a dry run for the kind of large walkaround characters that Jim would refine for _Sesame Street_ 's Big Bird, then perfect for sweeping fantasy projects like _The Dark Crystal_.\n\nJust as ambitious were a number of short films that Jim would produce for IBM at the behest of a charismatic and forward-thinking IBM executive named David Lazer, who was hoping to inject Jim's \"sense of humor and crazy nuttiness\" into short \"coffee breaks\" to be shown at IBM business meetings. Briskly written and enthusiastically performed and edited, some of these films were to promote new products, while others were simply intended as \"icebreakers\" for business meetings and staff retreats. Jim reported that IBM was \"ecstatic\" when it received the first four short films in early 1966\u2014and Jim, too, was delighted with the opportunity to work with the company, forging a friendship with Lazer that would eventually extend beyond their work for IBM.\n\nAs a gadget enthusiast, Jim was intrigued by the company's constant stream of new contraptions. For most of his IBM films, Jim chose to use the versatile Rowlf, in part because as a live hand puppet he could pick up and fiddle with each new machine\u2014such as an electric guitar from the \"Hippie Products Division\"\u2014but also because Lazer was a fan of the character. \"We made Rowlf a... bungling salesman,\" Lazer said, and \"everyone just went crazy over him.\" Jim also created a number of artsy films for the company, such as _Paperwork Explosion_ , a rapid-fire appraisal of IBM's technology set against a background of electronic music by Raymond Scott, in which Jim cautioned viewers to remember that \"Machines should work; people should think.\"\n\nLazer loved escaping his \"dinky little offices\" at IBM to come brainstorm with Jim and Jerry Juhl at Muppets, Inc. \"There was this aura of calmness, gentleness,\" Lazer recalled. \"Everybody was so nice. It was a nice warm feeling. It sounds trite now, but it was true.\" As with much of the commercial work, Jim was barely breaking even on the IBM films. But Lazer came to appreciate that, for Jim, it was usually more about fun than profit. \"I knew that he was taking a beating [financially],\" Lazer said later. \"Something about Jim\u2014it's not the money. It's got to feel right for him. It's got to click for him.... I liked that about him very much.\" The affiliation with IBM would also give Jim the opportunity to take short working vacations to perform Rowlf at a number of IBM's high-powered meetings, traveling with Jane to Florida and with Juhl and Nelson to Nassau, where Jim was excited to win $75 gambling\u2014a new pastime that agent Bernie Brillstein claimed was due to his influence.\n\nJim was still traveling across the country with Jimmy Dean, too, though the appearances at enormous nightclubs and open-air venues were more work than vacation, especially since the members of the Muppet team were responsible for serving as their own stagehands, setting up and taking down the puppet stage for Rowlf's appearance in complete darkness. \"We'd do our little bit,\" Nelson recalled, \"and then the lights would go out and we'd pick up our little stage in the dark and find our way out.\" During one intermission, Jim stepped out of the darkened theater with Rowlf still on his arm, and was immediately mobbed by fans. \"Next thing you know,\" said an amused Dean, \"they'll be calling the _dog_ the star of this here ol' show.\" After a show in Anaheim, Jim dodged around fans and dashed immediately to the airport, to arrive back home in Connecticut just in time for Lisa's sixth birthday party. No matter how hectic his schedule, Jim would always take the time to be an active, attentive parent.\n\nTo Jim's delight, _Time Piece_ was continuing to attract audiences\u2014and awards\u2014not only in the United States, but overseas as well. In August 1965, he was notified that the film had received the Plaque de St. Mark (\"whatever that is,\" Jim wrote dryly in his journal) at the Venice Film Festival, as well as several smaller prizes, including recognition in Berlin at the XII Oberhausen Film Festival. Reactions to the film still varied, as Jim noted, \"from 'A frightening look at modern living' to 'A very funny movie,' to 'What the hell is it?' \" In early 1966, Jim learned _Time Piece_ had been nominated for an Academy Award in the Best Short Subject, Live Action category. He and Jane attended the awards ceremony in Los Angeles in April, where the film lost to Claude Berri's French comedy _The Chicken_. Nevertheless, the Hensons, Jane remembered, still had \"such fun!\"\n\nWhile Jim could shrug off losing the Oscar, there was one potential loss that wouldn't be so easy to shake. In early 1966, Frank Oz, now twenty-one, was notified that he had been drafted and was being asked to report for duty in February. Oz vacated his New York apartment and Jim, trying to make the best of the situation, informed Jerry Nelson that he would now be hired full-time to take over Oz's performing duties\u2014welcome news for the recently divorced Nelson, who was caring for a daughter with cystic fibrosis and looking for more than just part-time jobs. Oz was working to secure placement in a unit to entertain troops, rather than serving in combat, \"which lessened the dramatic impact of my leaving,\" Oz said, but the team was still determined to send him off with a flourish. On February 18, the Muppet staff and their families threw a goodbye party for their youngest performer, waving to him from the second-story window as his cab sped toward Whitehall Street, all but certain they had lost Oz for at least the next two years.\n\nAs it turned out, they lost him for barely an hour. \"I reported for duty,\" Oz recalled, \"and was let go because of a minor heart condition.\" Oz excitedly climbed back into a cab and ordered the driver back to the Muppet offices, where his own farewell party had only just ended. \"I came back up the stairs to the office, and there was Jerry Nelson, sitting by himself on the couch,\" Oz said, laughing. \"And he looked up at me with this blank look on his face and just said, 'Shit!' \" Jim was delighted. \"FRANK OZ is not drafted!\" Jim wrote in his journal, with near palpable relief.\n\nNelson's job, meanwhile, would remain secure for most of the year, as Oz decided to take some time visiting relatives in England and Belgium; indeed, Jim and Nelson would perform Rowlf for the final episode of _Jimmy Dean_ on March 25, 1966. On Oz's return, Nelson would remain on staff as a part-time performer, splitting his time between Jim and Bil Baird. According to Nelson, \"Jim would call me up and say, 'Are you able to do an _Ed Sullivan_? And I would check with Bil to make sure it was okay\u2014he always said 'yeah, sure.' He liked Jim a lot and respected his work.\"\n\nFortunately for Nelson, the appearances on _Ed Sullivan_ or _The Tonight Show_ would continue with an almost rhythmic regularity. Jim was writing more and more new material for these appearances, honestly appraising the relative success of each in his private journal. Jim was unhappy, for example, with a Thanksgiving-related appearance on Johnny Carson, scrawling BOMB in his journal entry in all capital letters (\"Johnny is not one of those people who is really comfortable talking to the puppets,\" Juhl offered helpfully). Better were two sketches on a live New Year's Eve appearance six weeks later, though Jim was only willing to call the appearance \"fair,\" perhaps realizing that one sketch had gone on a bit too long. For a Perry Como Christmas special, the Muppet team performed a piece involving five of Santa's reindeer trying to make it snow for Christmas\u2014a skit Jim decided was \"Fairly good,\" and it truly was, getting laughs in all the right places and enthusiastic applause from the audience.\n\nDespite insisting that he would never perform voices, Oz had made his vocal debut in July 1965 performing half of a confused two-headed monster on trumpeter Al Hirt's _Fanfare_. The same show featured another new skit involving two Oz-designed abstract Muppets\u2014basically flexible tubes with wide eyes and fuzzy feet\u2014who danced to Hirt's chart-topping \"Java.\" The \"Java\" sketch, which became one of the Muppets' most popular, was a throwback to the earliest Muppet performances, essentially a game of one-upmanship that ended with the smaller character blowing up the larger one. \"Our material does have a certain similarity,\" Jim good-naturedly admitted.\n\nJim, it seemed, could find inspiration anywhere. In late 1964, Jim\u2014along with Juhl, Oz, and Sahlin\u2014arrived at NBC studios at 10:00 A.M. for a morning rehearsal for _The Jack Paar Program_ , only to be told they weren't needed until 4:00 that afternoon. As the Muppet performers lounged around the dressing room with nothing but time on their hands, someone pulled open a door at the other end of the room, \"expecting it to lead somewhere,\" said Juhl, \"but instead it was just this shallow closet with a maze of pipes.\" Where others might see twisting pipes and valves and spigots, Jim saw monsters and faces and noses. The rest was easy. As Juhl explained:\n\nWe had nothing to do, and Don had brought paints because we were performing something that needed touch-ups, so one thing led to another and we started decorating the pipes. It was Jim's idea\u2014a typical Jim idea\u2014and as the whole thing got more elaborate, one of us hopped in a cab and brought more material from the workshop.\n\nSoon the team had the pipes and valves decorated with colored paint, fake fur and hair, googly eyes, and grinning or roaring mouths\u2014a shrine to the Muppets' brand of \"affectionate anarchy,\" as Oz said later. Even as the team worked, Juhl said, \"people at the studio began to hear about this crazy closet and started stopping by, asking if they could take pictures.\" By the time of their 4:00 performance, even Paar had heard what the \"crazy Muppet people\" were up to and sent a cameraman to film the closet for his television audience to see. \"What's interesting is that Jim never intended for those pipes to be discovered that quickly,\" Diana Birkenfield remembered later. \"He wanted it to be a surprise for the next person who might open that closet door.\"\n\nDuring the summer of 1966, the Muppets spent a week cohosting _The Mike Douglas Show_ , which gave Jim the opportunity to perform several quirky pieces, such as feathers dancing to the Young Rascals' recent hit \"Good Lovin' \" (soldiering on even as one feather puppet accidentally wrapped around the blades of a spinning fan) and yet another variation of the Limbo character. Jim was increasingly fascinated by Limbo, which gave him the opportunity to explore his own interests in how the brain processed information and imagination. To produce one memorable sequence, Jim maneuvered a camera slowly through a tangle of materials he had strung throughout the Muppet workshop\u2014webs of yarn, scraps of paper, wads of plastic wrap\u2014then projected the final film behind Limbo as a representation of various regions of the brain.\n\nWhile Limbo's somewhat surreal style may have baffled fans expecting to see Rowlf, Jim was unapologetic about giving audiences something new. \"Good puppetry has a broad range,\" Jim said. \"It appeals to the children, the squares, and sophisticates.\" So appealing were the Muppets, in fact, that in early 1966 Jim accepted an offer from the Ideal Toy Company to produce Rowlf and Kermit puppets, the first merchandising Jim had allowed since the Wilkins giveaways seven years earlier. Naturally, Jim produced the commercials for the toys, poking a little fun at himself by having two Kermit puppets plead with viewers to \"buy us... [or] we'll bite you in the leg.\"\n\nAs the decade passed, Jim would let both his hair and his beard grow out and begin wearing soft suede or leather jackets with flowered shirts, looking very much the hippie many thought he was, despite the fact that his age\u2014he turned thirty in September 1966\u2014put him at the edge of what the hippies themselves would derisively tag as \"The Establishment.\" But Jim, by his very nature, defied such easy labels. By 1967, certainly, he had attained a degree of financial success\u2014though with four children, it would still be a while before he would approach the domain of the truly wealthy\u2014with the attractive house in Greenwich and, in August, a brand-new Porsche Targa. \"He always had those fancy new cars,\" recalled Lisa Henson. \"But he also really, really liked things to be nice. He had fantastic taste, whether it was clothing, or homes, or furniture, whatever.\" Jim's style, in fact, was almost directly opposite Jane's, who liked simpler things and would always feel somewhat \"conflicted\" about wealth or possessions.\n\nBut while Jim's financial success may have made him look like one of the \"squares or sophisticates,\" by 1967\u2014that acid-soaked, Day-Glo year of _Sgt. Pepper_ when psychedelia went mainstream\u2014Jim entered one of the most experimental and creative phases of his career, motivated largely by a desire to become something more than just Muppets. \"Except for _Jimmy Dean_ , there were just commercials and guest spots on other people's shows\u2014and in the end these were frustrating because they provided no opportunity for character development,\" said Jane. \"The Muppets were pretty well liked by then. All of the big shows were ready to at least listen to our ideas, and when they had an opening they'd put us on. But nobody was prepared to give the Muppets a show of their own, and Jim began to feel maybe he should be looking in another direction.\" Over the next three years, then, Jim would pursue a wide variety of projects in various media, very few of which involved a single puppet.\n\nOne of the most ambitious projects was not a television or movie-related project at all, but rather \"a new concept in total entertainment,\" a themed nightclub Jim was calling Cyclia. \"The idea began during the first wave of psychedelia,\" recalled Jane. \"Jim went to see Jefferson Airplane and he was very intrigued with it\u2014the light shows and the psychedelic graphics.\" To provide his potential guests with \"the entertainment experience of the future,\" Jim envisioned that the walls, floor, and ceiling of his nightclub would be broken into faceted, crystal-like shapes onto which films would be projected\u2014completely immersing dancers in a sea of images, choreographed precisely to the volume and type of music being played. When the music was quiet, for example, there would be images of trees or water; when the music got loud, there would be traffic, machinery, and explosions. And once an hour, a woman in a white leotard would rise from a pedestal in the center of the floor to have film projected on her body as she danced. It would be, Jim proposed, a very fashionable place, with \"a definite prestige atmosphere, and as such [the cover charge] will not be inexpensive.\"\n\nWhile senses-soaking, high-tech themed nightclubs would become fashionable by the late 1970s, in 1967, Jim's idea for Cyclia was clearly ahead of its time\u2014so far ahead, in fact, that finding the necessary space, materials, and technology to make it happen was a major challenge. To take care of the legwork, Jim hired Barry Clark, an enthusiastic West Coaster who had experience managing musicians and clubs, and asked him to scout possible locations as well as potential investors. Meanwhile, Jim and the Muppet team would take care of the films that would be projected on Cyclia's faceted surfaces and dancing girls.\n\nJim had been shooting film for Cyclia as early as 1965, dispatching Frank Oz and Jerry Nelson to Shea Stadium in August to film the crowd screaming and reacting during the Beatles' landmark concert. Other times, as they had with _Time Piece_ , footage would be shot whenever there was a spare moment, filming city streets from the back of a motorcycle, or rain rippling through puddles as they stood on a corner on Broadway. \"I shot thousands and thousands of feet of sixteen-millimeter film for Cyclia,\" recalled Oz. \"It's where I got the first experience that enabled me to become a movie director.\" But \"you couldn't shoot just random stuff,\" continued Oz. \"Jim was actually thinking thematically. Since there would be sixteen projectors showing images, they had to be thematically sound\u2014like sixteen screens of people screaming at the Beatles.\" In fact, Jim had thirteen themes in mind\u2014including \"Woods,\" \"Junk,\" \"City at Night\" \"India,\" and \"Nude\"\u2014all of which would then be edited together into an hour-long film called _Cataclysm_ that would project constantly on walls and bodies throughout the evening.\n\nFor most of 1966, Jim was seriously considering purchasing and converting ABZ Studios, a set of buildings at 266-268 East 78th Street in Manhattan, to house his club. Local zoning ordinances were a bit vague, allowing for a restaurant\u2014though not \"a cabaret\"\u2014and for music, \"as long as there were no more than three instruments used, excluding any brass instruments.\" Despite the limitations, Jim was prepared to purchase the property, and its two mortgages, outright for $200,000\u2014about $1 million today, and an astronomical sum for a company that could barely afford to keep five full-time employees on its payroll. However, when legal difficulties arose regarding the original owner's certificate of occupancy, Jim formally rescinded his offer. \"Nearly bought ABZ,\" he noted in his journal with a touch of regret.\n\nFollowing the breakdown of the ABZ negotiations Jim looked at several other locations, including buildings at West 60th Street, just off Central Park, a site in Santa Monica, California, and a large vacant lot on Second Avenue in New York City, at the foot of the Queensboro Bridge, where Jim proposed building a geodesic dome or even dropping in an inflatable structure. None of these ambitious ideas, however, moved much beyond the discussion phase.\n\nMore promising, it seemed, was a joint venture agreement with the El Morocco club on Broadway to take over the famous club's Garrison Room\u2014but that, too, proved to be a dead end. \"We went to the El Morocco,\" Oz said, \"[and] Jim and I went to [the dance club] Electric Circus just to look at it... [but] it just wasn't selling.\" Still, Jim remained almost defiantly committed to the project, incorporating Cyclia Enterprises in the fall of 1967, running endless cost analyses, piecing together a rough cut of _Cataclysm_ , and handing out fluorescent-colored brochures to potential backers. \"It could well be that he was toying with a dream,\" said Jerry Juhl later, \"[but he was] enjoying the process tremendously.\" Oz agreed. \"Jim went where the excitement was.\" Eventually, the nightclub idea was abandoned, though Cyclia Enterprises\u2014perhaps a testament to Jim's ridiculous optimism\u2014would not be formally disbanded until 1970.\n\nEven as he spent late evenings sketching Cyclia floor plans, painting concept art, or editing _Cataclysm_ , Jim would still return home each night to Greenwich where he would join the family in the latest crafts or art project\u2014and there was always some project spread out at the Henson household, whether it was wooden boxes to be dabbed with acrylic paints or materials to construct custom dollhouses. \"You would think that he would be tired of making things by the time he came home at night, but it wasn't the case,\" said Lisa. \"Even on weekends, he was still working on the art projects with us.\" \"There was a lot of making things,\" said Cheryl, \"and there was a lot of respect for childhood.\"\n\n\"Jim loved to come home and be with the kids,\" said Jane. \"He'd just come up with all these different projects. If we were driving along and we saw high grass, Jim would say, 'Oh! Let's do a film with you coming in and out of the grass and popping up over the grasses!' So we'd stop the car and out comes the Bolex [camera] and they'd do a film. In the spring, he would get photographs of little teeny ferns opening up. What was very basic to his work is that he was really in love with life. He was really intrigued with how all these little pieces of life worked and he was equally as intrigued with his children. He loved just watching them be children and doing the things they enjoyed doing.\"\n\nWhile the Henson children all knew their father worked with puppets, they were never encouraged to believe that any of the Muppet characters were living, breathing creatures. To Jim, puppets were merely one of the tools of his trade, a part of his act, to be thrown into a cabinet when they were worn out or no longer needed\u2014an attitude he imparted to his children, who found more than a few discarded Muppets in their toy boxes. \"He was very matter-of-fact about it,\" said Lisa. \"His attitude was, 'None of this stuff is really precious\u2014you can make it and then you can take it apart and make something else with it.' He even had some of the old _Sam and Friends_ Muppets lying around the house and they became rags because we played with them. Chicken Liver was a particular victim of our playing!\" (In 2010, Chicken Liver would be rescued and restored and now resides in the Smithsonian Institution.)\n\nAll three school-age children had been enrolled briefly in the Whitby Montessori School, then the North Street School in Greenwich, before entering Mead School, where Jane became actively involved in the school's dynamic art program. It was an activity that required even more of her already precious time but gave her \"an embracing environment,\" recalled Cheryl, and a much needed creative outlet. To keep things in order at home, then, Jane had help from a savvy nanny named Lillian Soden, who would take over the household, usually on each Tuesday and Wednesday, to give Jim and Jane the chance to spend the evening together, heading into New York for dinner and a movie or music in a nightclub. Though she was only in the house briefly each week, Lillian's presence was pervasive in the Henson household. In some ways, Lilly served for Lisa and Cheryl the same role that Dear\u2014who passed away in August 1967\u2014had for Jim, encouraging and inspiring the girls with her own particular skills and talents. \"There were times when Lilly just really held it all together in terms of her incredible cooking and her great values,\" Cheryl said later. \"Lilly was just amazing.\" To Lisa, Lillian \"was like my surrogate grandmother. She taught me everything I know about etiquette, whether it's sending thank-you notes or how to set the table. She was incredible.\"\n\nDuring the days, when he wasn't working on Cyclia with Barry Clark, Jim was writing regularly with Jerry Juhl, pitching ideas for countless television series and specials almost constantly from 1967 through 1969. \"Jim and I would sit and think up anything, from hourlong [specials] down to five minute sketches for _The Ed Sullivan Show_ ,\" said Juhl. The ideas were becoming wilder and more far out, with Juhl writing down the proposals nearly as fast as Jim could spin them. In April 1967, for example, Jim pitched _Moki_ , a genderbending case of mistaken identity in which a long-haired, androgynous young man is mistaken for a female fashion model. Brillstein shopped the proposal, but the subject matter was too touchy, even to those who recognized the brilliance behind it. \"This guy Henson's obviously got a nutty visual mind,\" one potential director told Brillstein, \"[but] this story scares the bejesus out of me. It's not exactly dirty\u2014it just ain't quite clean... the guy is very talented and it's a funny idea, but I guess I'm just old fashioned.\"\n\nAnother innovative pitch was _Inside My Head_ , which was basically a live-action version of the Limbo sketch in which a conversation between a man and woman is played out inside the man's brain. Jim envisioned the brain as a set made up of \"strange electronic pulses and rhythms... a maze of fibers, membranes, and convoluted openings\" and the same kind of quick-cut montages Jim had used for Limbo. The visual representations for how the brain works, Jim explained earnestly, \"would be based on all the known facts about the brain which are not only fascinating, but more amazing and wondrous than anything a science fiction writer would invent.\" To his disappointment, as with _Moki_ , no television network expressed interest in _Inside My Head_. And still there were a few Muppet-related proposals\u2014all of which went nowhere\u2014including the surrealistic _Adventures of the Snerf-Poof from Planet Snee_ and the even more bizarre _Johnny Carson and the Muppet Machine_ , which Jim illustrated in a style that could have been ripped from the trippy pages of the fledgling underground comix scene.\n\nIf Jim was having a hard time finding a network willing to take a chance on some of his wilder projects, he soon found a receptive audience at NBC, which had recently launched _NBC Experiment in Television_ , a series that catered to the more avant-garde or experimental filmmakers. Hyping its specials as \"Off the Beaten Path,\" the hour-long _Experiment_ ran without commercials on Sunday afternoons, spotlighting eclectic pieces like _A Coney Island of the Mind_ , performed by students at the University of Southern California School of the Performing Arts, or _Movies in the Now Generation_ , a collection of short student films hosted by George Plimpton.\n\nFor _Experiment_ , Jim put aside dramatic and comedic pieces like _Moki_ and _Inside My Head_ , and proposed instead a documentary he called _A Collage of Today_ \"to communicate the ideas of Youth in the forms they understand,\" as Jim explained, \"employing film and video media in new and exciting ways to best convey not only the substance, but the mood of the young.\" With the okay from NBC on February 15 and a budget of $100,000, Jim sent Barry Clark\u2014who was still enthusiastically but unsuccessfully pitching Cyclia\u2014on a quick sprint to scout out college campuses and clubs in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Houston, Miami, and Omaha.\n\nJim burrowed into the project for the next two months, poring through books and magazines with Juhl for quotes and snippets of poetry or dialogue, filming one-on-one interviews in late February, and editing by mid-March. On Sunday, April 21, 1968, Jim's one-hour documentary\u2014now titled _Youth 68: Everything's Changing..._ _Or Maybe It Isn't_ \u2014was broadcast on NBC, only a little less than four months after receiving the initial okay from the network\u2014a remarkable pace. \"We worked twenty hours a day for eight weeks,\" said Barry Clark.\n\nUtilizing the same rapid-fire editing Jim had first used in _Time Piece, Youth 68_ truly was a multimedia collage. Music overlaps with spoken commentary, and many times the screen is split into multiple images, resembling a monitor in a psychedelic film editing room. Jim was determined to aggressively use television technology\u2014particularly chromakey, in which two images are composited together\u2014to flood the viewer with sounds and images. Through chromakey, for example, the darkened silhouettes of dancers could be filled with film images, finally giving Jim the projected-on dancers he had envisioned for Cyclia.\n\nAt its core, _Youth 68_ features interviews with young men and women around the country\u2014including extended commentary from a charming Cass Elliot of the Mamas and the Papas and Marty Balin of Jefferson Airplane who too casually waves around a pistol\u2014as they earnestly discuss music, drugs, education, the draft, religion, and the future. Perhaps reflecting Jim's own equivocal political viewpoint, _Youth 68_ doesn't come down strongly on any position, preferring to allow each side to have its say\u2014with, perhaps, one exception: as an army recruitment brochure was read aloud, Jim showed images of soldiers carrying their wounded, pushing back protesters, and wielding flamethrowers. But while Jim may have been antiwar, he had little interest in using his art to make a political statement. Still, Jim's apolitical stance was actually a kind of statement in itself, and Jim couldn't resist ending the program with one long-haired young man declaring that, \"Nothing will be changed. The people who watch a broadcast like this aren't going to learn anything.\"\n\nIn fact, Jim's main motivation for _Youth 68_ was neither political nor social, but technical. \"Back in the sixties... I thought of myself as an experimental filmmaker,\" Jim said. \"I was interested in the visual image for its own sake\u2014different ways of using it\u2014quick cutting and things of that sort.... I loved what one could do with the montaging of visual images, so I was playing with that in several experimental projects.\" Juhl put it more bluntly. \"We got into [ _Youth_ _68_ ]... because of the look and the technology that [Jim] had available to play with,\" Juhl said. \"It was so typical of Jim to start from that point of view.\"\n\nCritics responded favorably to Jim's experimental documentary\u2014and many were even quick to recognize the technical wizardry involved. \"Visually the program was a nearly continuous light show with images overlaid on image... so there were sometimes three things to watch,\" said the _Seattle Post-Intelligencer_ , while the respected columnist Ralph J. Gleason enthused that \"No television program on a commercial network that I have seen utilized the possibilities of the TV camera to the extent this show did.\" _Variety_ declared it simply \"one of the most inspired programs of this season.\" Viewers, however\u2014who were more inclined to focus on content rather than Jim's technical prowess\u2014were split. Some thought it \"excellent,\" \"brave,\" or \"courageous,\" while others viewed it \"with alarm and more than a little disgust,\" and demanded that NBC apologize for \"some of the great damage you have done to our children and their future generations.\"\n\nBy summer, however, even those alarmed by what they saw as \"the Hippies and drug addicts\" of _Youth 68_ would agree its outlook seemed benign, even quaint, against the background of the tumultuous summer of 1968. Two weeks before the debut of _Youth 68_ , Martin Luther King had been assassinated in Memphis, sparking riots across the country. Six weeks later, Robert F. Kennedy was gunned down in Los Angeles. In early July, racial violence rocked Glenville, Ohio, leaving seven dead. A month later, police and protesters clashed outside the Democratic convention in Chicago. Jim's hopeful but naive \"communicat[ion] of ideas\" blew away with the same wind that dispersed the tear gas at the protests in Chicago.\n\nThat summer in New York, Jim had decided to change both the address and the name of his organization, moving Muppets, Inc. out of its 53rd Street address, and over to 227 East 67th Street, taking over the top two floors above an Italian restaurant. The new offices were accessible from the street entrance by a stairway so long, said one visitor, that it looked like the first steep hill of a roller coaster\u2014and Jim would buzz visitors in from the street, then stand at the very top of the steps just outside his office, gleefully shouting \"Keep coming!\" as visitors trudged up the long staircase.\n\nWith the new offices came a new name: Henson Associates, or HA! as Jim would winkingly abbreviate it. In the spirit of Henson Associates' playful acronym, Jim would later give the other divisions of his company similarly structured names, creating HO! (Henson Organization), HE! (Henson Enterprises), HIT! (Henson International Television), and HUM! (Henson Universal Music). With the name change, Jim was making a point: his company was about more than Muppets. He wanted to be considered more than just \"a novelty act,\" said Jerry Nelson. It was his name over the door now, not Muppets\u2014though Jim typically couldn't resist a bit of self-effacing silliness, as the sign outside the door at 227 greeted visitors with:\n\n**Henson Associates and Muppets Inc. This sign will be  \nreplaced with a nice expensive one some day\u2014maybe**.\n\nJim was still mulling over \"a few larger projects,\" explained Barry Clark\u2014who would leave the company that summer\u2014and hoped to \"attempt a feature film before the public's current infatuation with film declines.\" What those \"larger projects\" might be, however, even Jim didn't know. Since 1962, he and Jerry Juhl had been drafting an ambitious non-Muppet-related movie script called _Tale of Sand_ , a dark western in which the main character learns he's the Chosen One. It had \"a weird kind of dark ritual look to it,\" Juhl said later, like \"a bad dream, except that most of it was very funny.\" Jim was floating the script around Hollywood\u2014he wanted to play the main character, so he was pushing hard\u2014\"but nothing ever happened to it,\" said Juhl flatly. \"It was not a very Hollywood idea... it was such a bizarre piece of work there wasn't much hope for it.\" Still, Jim and Juhl would tinker with it for years.\n\nFinally, in late 1968, Jim dusted off an experimental piece he and Juhl had scripted and circulated unsuccessfully two years earlier, a one-hour special called _The Cube_ \u2014an \"original, surrealistic comedy,\" as Jim described it, that \"dramatizes the complex, baffling problems of reality versus illusion.\" _Baffling_ was putting it mildly; when Brillstein had shopped the script in 1966, most executives had no idea what to make of it. \"I see no hope for it in prime time,\" wrote one confused producer, \"unless [the networks] turn out to be far more courageous and experimental than I expect them to be.\"\n\nBy 1968, that experimental network would turn out to once again be NBC\u2014still looking for projects for its _Experiment in Television_ , and still enthusiastic about Jim's work following the success of _Youth 68_. On December 30, 1968, then, the network gave Jim the go-ahead for the project; by February 8, 1969, he was already filming the special in Toronto. For the first time, Jim would be producing a serious full-length feature, using professional actors\u2014and no puppets\u2014and he was determined to ensure it looked exactly as he envisioned. \"After _Time Piece_ , Jim often got frustrated when directors couldn't give him what he wanted,\" said Oz, who had seen Jim patiently, but firmly, try to articulate his vision to other directors and filmmakers.\n\nFor _The Cube_ , there would be no intermediaries who needed explanations; Jim would again step behind the camera himself. \"[Jim's] inspiration for _The Cube_ came more from exploring the possibilities of television,\" Juhl said. \"We were just reaching the point with videotape editing where you could play with it and get novel results.... It was really a matter of shooting film-style on tape, but the possibilities seemed exciting to us, and especially to Jim.\" For the five days it would take to shoot _The Cube_ \u2014a whirlwind pace made only slightly easier by the fact that the entire production used only one set, the eponymous cube\u2014Jim would issue directions to his actors in a near whisper, _hmmmm_ quietly as he considered their input, then stand patiently in his black leather jacket, arms folded, as the cameras rolled. The taping went smoothly, and Jim edited the film on February 16 and 17 to have a cut ready to show the network on the 18th. Five days later, _The Cube_ was on the air.\n\nDeliberately vague and defiantly artsy, _The Cube_ perhaps most closely resembles an avant-garde episode of _The Twilight Zone_. The main character\u2014played by comedic actor Dick Schaal and identified only as \"The Man in the Cube\"\u2014is trapped in a white, cube-shaped room, with no idea how he arrived there or who he is. As furniture, props, and characters move in and out through the room\u2014including two Gestapo-type policemen, a rock group, and a critic who informs the Man that he is actually in a television show\u2014it becomes difficult, even for the viewer, to determine what, if anything, is real. Growing increasingly paranoid, the Man finally exits the Cube to the sound of applause, then enters a psychiatrist's office where he accidentally cuts himself... and bleeds jam. Everything fades, and he's trapped back in the Cube.\n\n\"Congratulations,\" wrote one viewer to NBC, \"we're not just sure what we learned from it but it was quite a relief from the usual TV fare.\" Even co-writer Jerry Juhl wasn't sure what it was about. \"We were in an era where... everybody had a paranoid streak,\" Juhl explained. In a way, it was _Time Piece_ again, with the main character trying to make sense of the world around him\u2014but even that was probably reading too much into it. More than anything, Jim was playing with the form, spinning a circular tale with a shock ending in an artistic way. \"When [Jim] got into the experimental film mode, that was the story he tended to tell,\" said Juhl, \"one of those 'repeat stories.' \"\n\nResponse to _The Cube_ was mixed\u2014and viewers and critics either loved it or hated it, with very little middle ground. \"A dramatic highlight of the season,\" proclaimed critic Ben Gross in the New York _Daily News_ , while other viewers thought it \"excellent,\" \"provocative,\" or \"a challenge and a pleasure.\" Many disagreed. \"The people who wrote it must be weird,\" one viewer wrote flatly. _Variety_ groaned that \"it must have been intended for what is called egghead ghetto time [meanwhile], the lower strata of TV viewers must still be wondering what it was all about.\"\n\nOne viewer\u2014a Mr. Dionne from California, who likely _didn't_ consider himself part of the \"lower strata\"\u2014fired off an angry, rambling letter, complaining haughtily that \"the most disciplined attention I could give [ _The Cube_ ] was a belch from the grave of Marcus Aurelius, occasioned, I might add, by the dead weight of its own dust caving in on itself.\" Two weeks later came Jim's one-sentence response:\n\n_Dear Mr. Dionne:_\n\n_What the fuck are you talking about?_\n\n_Yours truly_ ,  \nJIM HENSON\n\nReading the letter forty years later, Frank Oz roared with laughter. \"That's actually very Jim!\" It was uncharacteristic of Jim to swear\u2014his strongest epithet was usually \"Oh, for heaven's sake!\"\u2014but that was the difference, Lisa Henson explained, between \"work Jim\" and \"home Jim.\" \"That isn't something in _our_ lives he would say,\" agreed Jane, \"but he would certainly talk that way to Frank!\"\n\nIf _The Cube_ , or even _Youth 68_ , left critics and audiences baffled, Jim didn't mind a bit; he was pursuing his own interests, regardless of success\u2014and besides, he still had Muppet commercials and appearances on variety shows to pay the bills. \"I used to always think in terms of having two careers going, two threads that I was working with at the same time,\" Jim said later. \"One was accepted by the audience and was successful, and that was the Muppets. The other [experimental films] was something I was very interested in and enjoyed. It didn't have that commercial success, but that didn't particularly frustrate me because I enjoyed it.\"\n\nStill, Jim was looking for a major project\u2014something larger than scattered one-hour specials, psychedelic nightclubs, or experimental films. For a brief moment, there was the prospect of a collaboration with the cartoonist Johnny Hart, who had proposed developing a series based on his popular comic strip _The Wizard of Id_. Jim met with Hart and agreed to prepare a short pilot to \"demonstrate the technique and approach of its proposed television special\" for a total cost of only $1,500. Don Sahlin masterfully built puppets and sets closely resembling Hart's original drawings, and the Muppet team performed the sketches with enthusiasm, even working in an explosion at the end. But the project went nowhere, due largely to lack of interest on Hart's part, who \"just decided he didn't want to do it,\" recalled Jerry Nelson. For Jim, there were no hard feelings; in fact, he would continue to circulate the pilot among the major networks for another year.\n\nEven as Jim remained on good terms with Hart, he was struggling in a recent relationship with the Frito-Lay company, which had approached Henson Associates about producing several commercials for Munchos potato crisps. Things got off to a shaky start when the Young & Rubicam ad firm, representing Frito-Lay, sent over a contract adding a clause to take ownership of any characters created for the ads. \"This is completely wrong,\" Jim scrawled in his looping cursive on a note stapled to the contract. \"We always insist on ownership of the characters.\" _Never sell anything I own_ , Jim had warned Brillstein six years earlier\u2014and he still meant it, even if it meant scuttling a relationship with a client. The offending clause was removed, and Jim would shoot three commercials for Munchos, memorable mostly for their antagonist: a snack-stealing monster that Jim had originally created for an unaired ad campaign for General Foods back in 1966.\n\nFrito-Lay was delighted with the spots and requested several more commercials. Jim, however, was no longer interested\u2014at last, he had found his next big project. It wouldn't be long before the monster from the Munchos commercials would no longer crave and eat potato chips, but would devour cookies instead.\n\n\"Tape Pilot Shows,\" Jim wrote in his journal entry for July 9, 1969, then two more words: \" _Sesame Street._ \"\n\n# **CHAPTER SIX**\n\n#\n\n# _SESAME STREET_  \n1969\u20131970\n\n(photo credit 6.1)\n\n\"I THINK THERE WAS A KIND OF COLLECTIVE GENIUS ABOUT THE CORE group that created _Sesame Street_ ,\" Children's Television Workshop co-founder Joan Ganz Cooney once remarked, \"but there was only one real genius in our midst, and that was Jim.\"\n\nThat was high praise, considering the caliber of the team Cooney and her CTW colleague Lloyd Morrisett had put together to develop the show. Besides music maestro Joe Raposo\u2014a swaggering, Harvard-educated virtuoso who could knock off a tune about happiness or itchiness over lunch\u2014Cooney had landed several veterans of the well-regarded children's show _Captain Kangaroo_ , including a brilliant, Yale-educated writer and producer named Jon Stone. Yet, while the Muppets would come to practically define the overall look and feel of _Sesame Street_ , Jim had been among the last to join CTW's creative team. It had been Stone, in fact, who had not only recommended Jim to Cooney, but had also strongly suggested that if CTW couldn't secure Jim's services, they'd be better off with no puppets on the show at all.\n\nJon Stone had first become acquainted with Jim in 1965, when the two of them had been practically thrown together by CBS producer Fred Silverman for a pilot Stone was developing, a Cinderella spoof combining live actors and puppets. The finished pilot had gone nowhere, but Jim and Stone struck up a friendship, founded on their mutual regard for each other's talents. \"We discovered we had a tremendous empathy for each other's work styles and sense of humor,\" Stone said. \"I just loved what he was doing.\" The two got on so well, in fact, that Jim hired Stone several years later to direct _Youth 68_ , and the two vowed to continue looking for another project to work on together. By July 1968, with only a little nudging from Stone, they had found that next project.\n\nThat summer, both Jim and Stone were deeply involved with the Children's Television Workshop, a nonprofit organization created in March 1968 by a young television producer named Joan Ganz Cooney and Lloyd Morrisett, a progressive-minded vice president of the Carnegie Corporation. Their goal, said Cooney, was simple: \"to create a successful television program that would make a difference in the lives of children, in particular, poor inner-city children, and help prepare them for school.\"\n\nThey were wading into choppy waters. Previously, educational television had consisted largely of stone-faced educators either staring directly into the camera lecturing, or writing on a blackboard\u2014essentially a filmed classroom lesson, neither of which made for terribly compelling television. On the other hand, educational shows aimed solely at children\u2014like _Romper Room_ or _Captain Kangaroo\u2014_ were fun and well intentioned but were guided by no true pedagogies. Cooney envisioned a show that would take the best of each approach: a fun, fast-paced kids' show with content steeped in the latest pedagogies and education research. \"I want this show to jump and move fast,\" Cooney told _The New York Times_. \"[Kids] like commercials and banana peel humor and avant-garde video and audio techniques.... We have to infuse our content into forms children find accessible.\"\n\nIf that was the critereon, Jim Henson was clearly her man. For the moment, however, Cooney admitted she had \"blanked\" on Jim's name when putting together her creative crew, and was now hunting elsewhere for her team by poaching from the best children's television staff available: the team at the highly successful _Captain Kangaroo_ , where the Captain himself, Bob Keeshan, knew how to assemble talent. Immediately, Cooney lured away Dave Connell, one of Keeshan's executive producers, as well as Sam Gibbon, another _Kangaroo_ veteran who was put in charge of curriculum development. Her real catch, however, was the versatile Stone, who had to be persuaded out of a freelancer's relatively quiet existence to take on the responsibilities of directing and writing for a daily show again. (\"I talked to [Joan Cooney] for fifteen minutes,\" recalled Stone, \"and I was hers for life.\")\n\nNext came a series of five seminars in Cambridge and New York over the summer of 1968, providing, on the face of it, an opportunity to develop the goals and direction of the still unnamed show, but mostly allowing the academics and the creative talent their first real chance to stare each other down and learn to work together. After the first workshop in June, Stone invited Jim to sit in on the next series of meetings, to be held July 25 and 26 at Harvard. Jim traveled to Cambridge and sat in on the discussions, rarely speaking, but listening intently. Stone and Cooney's project had his attention; he'd be back for the next meeting in August, this time to be held in New York at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel.\n\nSeveral weeks later, Jim entered the conference room at the Waldorf and took a seat near the back\u2014slouching down, as usual, until he was nearly horizontal\u2014and sat so quietly that he finally had to be pointed out to Cooney, who had heard Jim's praises sung by Stone and others but had yet to meet him in person. Even then, it still took a moment for Cooney to register. \"I hadn't remembered the name at first,\" Cooney admitted later, but then \"a lightbulb went on\" and she remembered seeing a compilation of Jim's commercials over at the Johnny Victor Theatre in New York earlier in the year. \"I was on the floor,\" Cooney said. \"I couldn't believe puppets could be so hip and funny.\" Once she realized the slouching, bearded figure was the puppeteer Stone had recommended\u2014the same one whose commercials had made her \"fall over laughing\"\u2014\"I was thrilled,\" she said. Stone and his creative team were more than just thrilled; they were united in their determination to hire him.\n\nGetting Jim, and the Muppets, wouldn't necessarily be easy. Always fascinated by any opportunity to push the boundaries of television, Jim was intrigued by the concept of a new kind of children's educational program that would use television as a positive force. But he initially resisted Stone's and Cooney's entreaties to join the CTW creative team, largely because after spending the last decade expanding into film, animation, documentaries, and experimental television, he didn't want to be thought of mainly as a puppeteer again. Even worse, if he were to begin performing regularly on a children's show, he would be slapped with the dreaded label _children's puppeteer_. \"There was a huge ambivalence there,\" said Jerry Juhl, \"because one of _the_ things that he would say most often and most strongly about the puppet work... was that this was _adult puppetry_.\"\n\nFortunately, the new show offered Jim creative opportunities beyond just puppetry. At the moment, in fact, with the first show still more than a year away, the Muppets weren't even needed; instead, CTW was interested in putting together short films, no more than one or two minutes long, to teach children letters, numbers, or other concepts like body parts. These short pieces were to be inserted like advertisements\u2014and, in fact, would always be referred to as \"inserts\"\u2014at regular intervals throughout each show, repeated two, sometimes even three times per hour. This was just the sort of thing Jim could get excited about. With his rat-a-tat editing style that had defined _Time Piece_ and _Youth 68_ , his bold animation techniques, and his knack for quickly and effectively driving home a point\u2014a skill honed from making commercials in which he had only eight seconds to get his message across\u2014Jim was uniquely suited to take on the task of creating CTW's first \"educational commercials.\" \"Jim got involved right away because he loved making short films so much,\" said Jon Stone. But Jim also had one other significant vantage point: as the father of four children under the age of ten, he had spent countless evenings painting, gluing, talking with and listening to his own kids\u2014and had come to appreciate just how perceptive, interesting, and receptive an audience of children could be.\n\nAnd so, Jim agreed to join CTW's creative team\u2014but there was one bit of business to resolve first. While Jim was committed to producing Muppet segments for the new show, he insisted, as usual, on owning his characters. That determination caused some grumbling among CTW lawyers, who pointed out that CTW would ultimately be providing the facilities and doing the filming, editing, and production work. Jim stood firm, but eventually agreed that while he would maintain ownership of the characters\u2014and could approve the merchandise in which any of his characters were used\u2014Henson Associates and CTW would split the profits from any Muppet-related merchandise associated with the show.\n\nBefore a single frame of film had been shot, Jim and CTW had negotiated\u2014as part of the contract that would acquire Jim's services\u2014the outline of the agreement relating to merchandising that would ensure, well beyond the wildest dreams of either party, the future financial success of Henson Associates\u2014and, for that matter, for CTW. For Jim, it had been about protecting his work; clearly, neither Jim nor anyone else could have foreseen the merchandising juggernaut they were creating. In fact, after the first CTW meetings in Cambridge in June 1968, Jim wouldn't even mention CTW in his personal journal until early 1969. However lofty the goals of CTW might be, there were no guarantees the show would last beyond one season. \"This was an educational children's show,\" remarked Jerry Juhl, summing up the consensus at the time. \"The thought was 'thirteen weeks, and it'll be over.' \"\n\nRegardless, once Jim was on board, his commitment was complete, and he quickly set to work producing short films for \"this future amorphous television show that was still a year-and-a-half away.\" One of the first films Jim created was a short piece he called \"Body Parts vs. Heavy Machinery,\" comparing the movements of the body to similar movements in machines, and featuring several boys\u2014including five-year-old Brian Henson\u2014playing in a sandbox, scooping up fistfuls of sand, intercut with shots of a working steam shovel clawing at mounds of earth.\n\nWhile the film and its lessons wouldn't be seen or appreciated by preschoolers for nearly a year, for Brian Henson, the educational benefits were immediate: at breakfast the morning after completing work on the film, Jim presented Brian with his first paycheck, a compliment, and a gentle lesson in fiscal responsibility. \"He said, 'So Brian, you've done a good week's work and you've earned this,' \" Brian recalled later. \"He gave me a check for fifty dollars and... then he said, 'So here's what we're going to do: you earned that money so now we're going to take that to the bank, and you're going to open a bank account and you're going to deposit your fifty dollars and you're going to get a bank book and then it will earn interest and you can add money.'... In that moment, he taught me how people earn a living and how the world works. I probably learned more from that experience than anything else in my life.\" It was Jim in what Brian would affectionately call \"full-blown father mode,\" providing gentle guidance and educating in short, easy-to-understand terms\u2014just as he would for millions of other children with his short films.\n\nThe next order of business was to produce a \"pitch reel,\" to be shown on closed-circuit television to public television stations in the spring, giving them ample opportunity to learn more about the show before episodes became available in the autumn. On January 22, 1969\u2014two weeks before he would sprint to Toronto for the whirlwind taping session for _The Cube_ \u2014Jim taped the Muppet portions of the twenty-five-minute pitch reel, using Kermit and Rowlf, who was still the best-known Muppet, as emcees. Between short films and earnest explanations about the research behind the show, Jim wove a running gag about the difficulty in coming up with a name for the show, with assorted Muppet ad men sitting around a smoky boardroom table, hashing through possible names. \"We'll call it _The Itty Bitty Farm and City Witty Ditty Nitty Gritty Dog and Kitty Pretty Little Kiddie Show_ ,\" suggests the chairman\u2014only to have a monster angrily devour his chair. Finally, one ad man has an epiphany. \"Hey, these kids can't read or write, can they? Then howzabout we call the show _Hey, Stupid!_ \" Exasperated, Rowlf breaks up the meeting and announces he'll come up with the name himself.\n\nActually, Jim's rambunctious Muppet meeting was bitingly close to reality\u2014for the CTW team _hadn't_ come up with the show's name until practically the moment before Jim began rolling tape on the pitch reel. In late 1968, Stone had suggested _123 Avenue B_ , a title that held until mid-January 1969, when it was decided the name sounded too much like a real address. At that point, Stone turned to his writing team for suggestions, poring over lists with everything from the boring _Fun Street_ to the uninspired _The Video Classroom_. Nothing really leapt off the page until a writer named Virginia Schone submitted a list containing two alliterative words: _Sesame Street_.\n\n\"I fought like hell\u2014I thought it was an awful name,\" Stone said later. \"I thought the E at the end was bad education\u2014it looks like a silent E, so it'd be ' _See-same Street_ ' if you're trying to read\u2014and I thought it was too cute.\" Producer Dave Connell, however, issued a directive that \"if nobody came up with a better idea, as of Monday we [are] going to call the show _Sesame Street_.\" By Monday, the name had stuck\u2014and as Jim began filming on Wednesday, it was Kermit who was shown coming up with the name on-screen, casually explaining that the reference to the phrase _open sesame_ \"kinda gives the idea of a street where neat stuff happens.\"\n\nCTW intended to have pilot episodes of _Sesame Street_ ready by June 1969, so Jim began sketching out a few new Muppets for the show early that spring, handing Don Sahlin a felt-tip drawing, little more than a doodle, of two characters. The first had surprised eyes set in a tall, banana-shaped head, topped by a shock of dark hair, while the other\u2014looking rather like Moldy Hay from _Sam and Friends_ \u2014had a head like a football, a large nose, and even larger ears, with shaggy dark hair covering his eyes. Typically, Sahlin captured the spirit of Jim's drawing\u2014highlighting the features that defined the characters and discarding those that didn't\u2014and produced two Muppets that manifested the study in opposites, both in design and personality, that Jim always found wonderfully funny. \"The design was so simple and pure and wonderful,\" said Oz. \"You had somebody who is all vertical and somebody who is all horizontal.\" In the talented hands of Oz and Jim, those vertical and horizontal characters would quickly become, in the minds of many, one of the funniest comedy duos anywhere, providing teachable moments for millions even as they poked, prodded, teased, and taunted each other: Ernie and Bert.\n\nIt took some trying for Jim and Oz to decide which performer would take which puppet. \"We played with who did what using the mirror in the workshop,\" recalled Oz, with each taking a turn performing Ernie then Bert. Ultimately, the design of the puppets triggered their personalities. \"The design really reflects the character and affects the kind of voice you do,\" Oz said. \"Ernie is expansiveness, while Bert is this rigid, uptight guy.\" With that as the basis, it was easy for Jim to finally assume the more laid-back Ernie, and Oz the serious Bert. Still, it would take a bit more tinkering before everything would fall into place with the characters\u2014it even took Jim awhile to find the right voice for Ernie, at first giving the character a voice similar to Rowlf's. But with the creation of Ernie and Bert, Jim had made his first iconic contribution to _Sesame Street_. It would be far from his last. (Contrary to popular rumor, Ernie and Bert were _not_ named for the similarly named cop and taxi driver in the film _It's a Wonderful Life_ \u2014\"it's a total coincidence,\" said Stone\u2014though it should perhaps be noted that Jim _did_ have a great-uncle named Ernie.)\n\nAnother of Jim's most endearing contributions to _Sesame Street_ were the short films and animations he would supply to be used as inserts, many of which were completed before the first episode aired. Following the completion of the body parts film in January 1969, Jim began working on a series of storyboards for ten short pieces of film and animation that would be used to teach children to count. While Jim would label his March 1969 storyboards _Numerosity\u2014_ and CTW would invoice them under the labels \"Henson 2\" or whichever number Jim featured in his film\u2014for a generation of viewers, they would always be known simply as \"the baker films.\"\n\nEach film began with a colorfully animated counting sequence, followed by a number of short live-action clips in which human actors counted aloud various objects (including, in one segment, Jim as a juggler who counts three balls). At the end, a neatly pressed baker carrying a precariously balanced armful of the appropriate number of desserts appears at the top of a short flight of stairs, dramatically announces his culinary creation (\"Ten... chocolate layer... cakes!\"), and immediately falls down the stairs\u2014Jim's educational television equivalent to ending a sketch with an explosion. \"I don't like it,\" said Cooney of what she called \"banana peel humor.\" \"Younger children\u2014two-year-olds\u2014they think he's hurt.\" But it would stay. With the films completed, Jim sent his usual thank-you notes to his actors, then billed CTW an even $40,000, well below the actual costs for producing the films\u2014especially since Jim had estimated his expenses based on producing ten one-minute films, when the completed films actually ran nearly two minutes in length. In the spirit of the project, however, Jim refused to bill CTW for the overages.\n\nOn July 9, 1969, only a little more than a month after the _Numerosity_ work sessions, Jim and Oz\u2014stocked with Ernie and Bert and a handful of generic puppets with interchangeable eyes, noses, and hair that Jim called \"Anything Muppets\"\u2014spent nine days in Philadelphia taping five pilot shows for _Sesame Street_. The pilots were to be shown to test audiences in Philadelphia and New York, a group that included the toughest critics of all: the preschoolers who were _Sesame Street_ 's target audience. As it turns out, the responses of this key group would result in an important change in the show's format.\n\nIn its original pilot format, _Sesame Street_ moved from segment to segment in a deliberate, self-aware manner, with the human cast members introducing many of the short films or animations. The Muppets would then be seen in their own segments, often referencing prior inserts, and serving as the links from one piece to the next. This gave the show the magaziney _Laugh-In_ feel Cooney had originally envisioned, but such a format meant the Muppets were completely isolated from _Sesame Street_ 's human cast. This had been done deliberately, and with the best of intentions. \"We had been told by all our advisors that preschoolers have difficulty in differentiating between fantasy and reality,\" Stone said. \"So the first idea was that you would have the street\u2014a very real-looking set with real people on it\u2014and then you would cut away to puppets, to animation, to all the things that make up the fantasy.\n\n\"We did the test shows that way,\" Stone continued, \"and we realized right away that we had a problem, because the people on the street couldn't compete with the puppets. We had children watching these shows and their attention span just went way down when we cut to the street.... So the information we got from these test shows demonstrated that we needed a transition from the fantasy to the reality.\"\n\nThe solution to this unforeseen hitch, then, was simple: Muppets were needed on the street.\n\nJim thought about it, and after taking his family on a quick vacation to Barbados and St. Lucia at the end of July, returned to Jon Stone with several ideas. One of his thoughts was \"to have a character that the child could live through,\" a Muppet who was representative of the audience. \"Big Bird, in theory, is himself a child,\" said Jim, \"and we wanted to make this great big silly awkward creature that would make the same kind of dumb mistakes that kids make.\" To make things even more interesting, Jim and Stone decided on another character that was nearly the antithesis of the wide-eyed, innocent Big Bird: a cynical, complaining grouch named Oscar. \"Oscar is there because we didn't want a bland kiddie show,\" said Stone. \"We didn't want to let it get too sweet.\"\n\nThe remaining issue, at least for Jim, was one of personnel. Doing brief Muppet sketches and inserts on tape was one thing; appearing regularly on a daily show was another. Performing Big Bird and Oscar would be a time-consuming task that would require the puppeteer to be present for all 130 shows CTW anticipated filming each year\u2014and Jim, who intended for both characters to be performed by the same puppeteer, was not inclined to devote himself to full-time puppeteering. The versatile Oz was briefly considered for the task, but Jim had envisioned Big Bird as a full-body, walkaround puppet, and Oz, after his experience in the stuffy La Choy dragon costume, was remaining steadfast in his refusal to perform any more large characters\u2014and besides, Oz was too valuable to spare for 130 shows. With the first episodes of _Sesame Street_ going before the cameras in less than four months, then, Jim needed to quickly hire a puppeteer specifically for the job of performing Big Bird and Oscar.\n\nFortunately, Jim already had a recruiting mission on his calendar\u2014and in August 1969, he traveled to Salt Lake City for several days to attend the annual conference for the Puppeteers of America. There he attended a performance by a thirty-five-year-old puppeteer named Caroll Spinney, who advertised his performance as \"an experimental production\" of live puppetry interacting with an animated background. It would have been an impressive combination of media had it actually worked. But as Spinney began his performance, an errant spotlight shone down on his movie screen, completely washing out the animated background. \"I couldn't see my films to synchronize my movements,\" Spinney lamented. \"It was an immediate disaster. I lost the whole bit.\" Spinney managed to salvage the performance through a bit of ad-libbing, then slunk offstage. To his surprise, Jim greeted him backstage in his near-whisper way, and asked Spinney if he could meet with him later to talk.\n\nThat invitation sounded familiar to Spinney, who had met Jim several years earlier at a puppetry convention in Sturbridge, Massachusetts. There, Jim had suggested Spinney come to New York \"to talk about\" working for the Muppets\u2014but Spinney hadn't followed up on the suggestion, failing to realize that \"Jim never just wanted to chat. If he said he wanted to talk about something, it meant that he wanted to _do_ it.\" This time, Spinney wouldn't make the same mistake.\n\nSpinney stashed his gear, then ran to the lounge where Jim was already waiting, slouched down on a couch. \"I saw your show,\" Jim told Spinney. \"I liked what you were _trying_ to do.\" Spinney laughed, relieved. Jim understood\u2014and when offered another chance to \"join the Muppets,\" Spinney eagerly accepted. As usual, Jim had a knack for choosing the right people for the job\u2014and despite Spinney's disastrous live show, Jim had seen the performer's talent.\n\nEven as Jim was finding his puppeteer, the workshop at Henson Associates was bustling with activity. With production on _Sesame Street_ ramping up, Jim had employed several more designers to work alongside Sahlin, including Caroly Wilcox\u2014a talented puppeteer with a penchant for design\u2014and the serendipitously named Kermit Love, a marionettist and former Broadway costume designer with a Santa Claus beard who excelled at crafting full-body puppets. Meanwhile, in the administrative offices upstairs, Jim had recently hired Diana Birkenfield, a former production assistant on _The Jimmy Dean Show_ , to act as his first full-time producer, reviewing and vetting potential projects.\n\nOne office, however, sat empty. In June, Jerry Juhl had approached Jim and amiably informed him that he and his wife, Susan, were planning to move to California, where Jerry hoped to make it as a freelance writer. \"I wasn't in California very long at all before I got a call from Jon Stone,\" recalled Juhl. \"They actually had a really hard time finding writers [for _Sesame Street_ ].\" Like many, Juhl was skeptical about whether _Sesame Street_ would last more than a season\u2014and he didn't want to relocate to New York to find the worthy experiment had failed after three months. But Stone, and Jim, were persistent; when it came to the Muppets, Jim was certain Juhl knew their temperament and rhythms better than anyone\u2014Jim wanted and needed him. So Stone tried again, offering Juhl the option of remaining in California and working long-distance. With that, Juhl agreed to become one of Stone's most important _Sesame Street_ writers, mailing in Muppet scripts from California\u2014and commuting into New York when necessary\u2014for the next five years.\n\nAs fall approached, the Muppet builders were putting the finishing touches on both Big Bird and Oscar, readying them for the first full day of street shooting on October 13, 1969. Jim wanted Big Bird to be the next phase in full-body characters, an improvement over earlier efforts that had limited facial expressions and squatty arms that inhibited arm and hand movements. Jim wanted Big Bird to have a more expressive face, with eyes that blinked, and a flexible body that allowed the performer to more easily move and react. Sahlin, then, was eagerly at work on Big Bird's head and the whirl of gears that would allow the performer to open the puppet's eyes, while Kermit Love, with his flair for the dramatic, assembled the body. Apart from the drawings he had provided, Jim had inspired Big Bird's design in other ways. \"When Big Bird was being developed, I kept the image of Jim Henson in mind,\" said Love. \"I always thought of Jim's stature\u2014he was well over six feet tall, and that loping gait he had when he walked down a hallway. Somehow or other, that was what stuck in my mind.\" For a moment, Jim had even considered constructing a puppet in which the performer walked backward, to more closely simulate the actual bend of a bird's leg. \"Fortunately,\" said Spinney, \"Jim abandoned that idea, or I could have spent over thirty years walking around backward.\"\n\nThere was nothing overly complicated about Oscar, however\u2014he was a Muppet typical of Jim's ferocious yet somehow nonthreatening monsters, originally an orange shag rug with a wide mouth and angry eyebrows. Oscar had been partly inspired by regular lunches at a seafood restaurant just around the corner from the Muppet workshop called Oscar's Salt of the Sea, where the grumbling, growling owner often reduced Jim and Jon Stone to fits of giggles. As initially envisioned by Jim and Stone, Oscar was supposed to be a grouch that lived in the sewers, accessible through a manhole cover. \"It would lift up and you'd see these little eyes looking at you, and you'd [go] down through the dripping water in the sewers [and] here would [be] these scruffy little things in half darkness that were picking things out of the water and eating them,\" recalled Stone. It was an idea he and Jim found hilarious, but ultimately, \"we decided that was too gross.\" Oscar would live in a much more easily accessible\u2014and far less gross\u2014garbage can.\n\nOn Monday, September 29, 1969, Jim and Oz began filming their first set of Muppet inserts at Reeves Teletape at 67th and Broadway, just a short cab ride across Central Park. The first segment, written and directed by Stone, featured Ernie and Bert riffing on what would be one of the themes for _Sesame Street_ 's first episode: the letter W and the word _wash_. The very first look preschoolers would have of Ernie and Bert, then, featured Ernie singing in the bathtub, asking an already annoyed Bert to toss a bar of soap \"into Rosie.\"\n\n\"I call my bathtub Rosie,\" explained Ernie.\n\n\"Ernie, why do you call your bathtub Rosie?\" asked Bert.\n\n\"Because every time I take a bath,\" responded Ernie, \"I leave a ring around Rosie!\"\u2014and then came what would quickly become a signature sound from the show, mimicked by countless four-year-olds across the nation to the exasperation of preschool teachers everywhere: Ernie's trademark laugh, a rapid-fire series of guttural, slightly slurpy gunshots: _kkkkhi-kkkkkhi-kkkkkhi-kkkkhi-kkkkhi!_ A star was born.\n\nA little less than two weeks later, on Friday, October 10, Jim went to the Teletape facility at 81st and Broadway\u2014residing in an old RKO movie theater that had been converted for television\u2014and strolled the recently completed _Sesame Street_ set with Sahlin and Spinney, inspecting the various nooks where the Muppet performers would be kneeling, crouching, or lying as they worked. The area around Oscar's trash can was immediately problematic: it had been constructed in such a way that the right-handed Spinney couldn't wedge his arm into the trash can's opening. Spinney would have to perform Oscar left-handed until the set could be adjusted. \"Left hands are much stupider than your right if you're right handed,\" Spinney explained. Still, Jim was anxious to see how Oscar would look on the set and asked Spinney to perform the character anyway, regardless of the difficult setup.\n\nEven without the contorted trash can, Spinney was nervous about debuting Oscar in front of Jim. He had only just decided that morning on the voice he would use for the character\u2014based on a gruff Bronx cabdriver who had driven Spinney to the studio and growled, \"Where to, Mac?\"\u2014and had yet to find out if it met with Jim's approval. \"I hoped I had the right voice,\" Spinney said later. Jim waited patiently as Spinney pulled Oscar onto his left arm and twisted himself awkwardly behind the cutaway can. After a moment, Jim rapped on Oscar's trash can; the lid banged open and the dingy orange Oscar emerged to glare at Jim. \"Get away from my trash can!\" Spinney snarled in his cabdriver's voice.\n\nJim smiled and nodded appreciatively. \"That'll do fine.\"\n\nBeginning Monday, October 13, Jim would spend a few days on the _Sesame Street_ set performing Kermit and Ernie, but for the most part the fall of 1969 was business as usual at Henson Associates, with continued appearances on variety shows and work on commercials. For Jim and his team, _Sesame Street_ was, for the moment, just another assignment to add to the already lengthy list of projects Jim was either working on or had in development. In fact, when the first episode of _Sesame Street_ aired nationally on November 10, it didn't even merit mentioning in Jim's private journal. That may have been due, in part, to a stinging review of the first two weeks' worth of _Sesame Street_ episodes by _New York Times_ critic Jack Gould, which Jim later admitted had bruised his feelings. In his review, Gould sneeringly referred to the Muppets as \"stocking puppets\" and thought them \"distressingly bland.\" \"One yearns for Burr Tillstrom,\" Gould concluded. It would not be the last time Gould would claw at Jim.\n\nStill, Gould's harsh review was decidedly in the minority\u2014for it was clear almost immediately that Jim had helped create something extraordinary. In the October 31, 1969, issue of _Life_ \u2014which hit newsstands several weeks before the first episode of _Sesame Street_ aired\u2014Jim and the _Sesame Street_ Muppets were featured in a full-page photo and story. In November, the Washington, D.C., City Council approved a resolution renaming a local road \"Sesame Street\" for a week. By December, Big Bird was already making a featured appearance on _Ed Sullivan_ , dancing with chorus girls in a piece by noted Broadway choreographer Pete Gennaro. That same month _Woman's Day_ featured sewing patterns readers could use to make their own Muppets\u2014and then perform them to an original routine written by Jerry Juhl. \"It's clever and witty and charming,\" enthused the _Detroit Free Press_. \"It's integrated. It's non-violent. It's fun. It may even be educational.\" Before the end of the year, even Jack Gould had to finally admit _Sesame Street_ was \"an undisputed hit.\" \"I didn't know what success meant, but I knew we had it,\" Joan Cooney said later.\n\nEven with _Sesame Street_ building momentum, Jim continued writing new pieces for variety show appearances. On November 30, he and Oz performed a musical skit on _The Ed Sullivan Show_ using several new Muppets, including a crazy-haired puppet in sunglasses who would come to be known by the name of the song performed that evening, a bit of nonsensical scat by the Italian composer Piero Umiliani called \"Mah N\u00e0 Mah N\u00e0.\" Jim had found the song in a location about as far away from _Sesame Street_ as possible: a 1968 Italian sexploitation film called _Sweden: Heaven and Hell_ , which premiered in New York in August 1969. Oz felt sure that he and Jim had probably both seen the film when it played at the Avco Embassy Theatre five minutes away from the Henson offices, but \"only Jim,\" Oz said, laughing, \"would have recognized its potential so quickly!\"\n\nAs sung by Jim\u2014with Oz performing two vaguely bovine backup singers known as Snowths\u2014\"Mahna Mahna\" (as Jim would always spell it) seemed custom-made for the Muppet brand of madness. Jim took great delight in playing with the four sides of the television screen, zipping his character in sideways, rushing the camera from upstage, or even backing in from downstage. It was an affectionate nod to the simpler days of _Sam and Friends_ \u2014while there was no explosion at the end, the sketch concluded with the puppets smashing into the camera, blacking it out\u2014and the _Sullivan_ crowd went wild, laughing and applauding spontaneously several times during the three-and-a-half-minute performance.\n\nIn early 1970, with _Sesame Street_ officially a success, ABC-TV expressed interest in reviving a Muppet project that had been languishing, unaired, for nearly two years: a fairy tale satire called _Hey Cinderella!_ that Jim had taped in the fall of 1968, using the basic outline of the failed Cinderella pilot he and Jon Stone had collaborated on back in 1965. Jim was delighted with ABC's decision to pick up the hour-long special; he was hoping to make _Hey Cinderella!_ the first in a regular series he was calling _Tales from Muppetland_ , and set to work filming several short spots with Kermit that could be inserted into _Hey Cinderella!_ just before each commercial. That seemingly innocuous decision would lead to unexpected headaches.\n\nFollowing the April 10 airing of _Hey Cinderella!_ , Jack Gould\u2014the same critic who had already dismissed Jim's work on _Sesame Street_ as \"distressingly bland\"\u2014took a swipe at Jim again, this time taking great umbrage with the use of Kermit in the filmed lead-ins to each commercial break. \"Apparently, the Children's Television Workshop... is not adverse to cashing in when success strikes,\" lamented Gould. \" _Sesame Street_ last night lost a little of its luster as Kermit broke the faith and became one more pitchman.\"\n\nThat was too much for Jim. It didn't seem to matter to Gould that although the production team included Jim and Jon Stone, _Hey Cinderella!_ had absolutely no affiliation with CTW or _Sesame Street_. Further, Kermit was the furthest thing from a pitchman; Jim had been very careful not to show Kermit actually endorsing any products. Frustrated, Jim appealed to Gould in writing, trying, without much success, to set the record straight. \"For the past ten or twelve years, approximately half my income has been derived from producing Muppet commercials,\" Jim explained. \"Since the advent of _Sesame Street_ , and my own interest and concern for television... I have become a great deal more selective, and have turned down many lucrative offers that seemed to be trying to capitalize on _Sesame Street_.\" Rightly pointing out that \"it is my income from commercial TV that makes my participation in educational TV possible,\" Jim assured the critic that he would continue \"to work with a degree of integrity and responsibility to the children of the country.\"\n\nCommercials would remain Henson Associates' primary source of revenue, at least for a while, but Gould's criticism, however unfair, had stung. In August 1970, Jim refused to renew his contract to film additional commercials for the Frito-Lay company, citing both his time commitment to _Sesame Street_ as well as Henson Associates' \"extreme sensitivity to commercialization of the Muppet characters.\" As he had assured Gould, Jim was indeed becoming more selective in the kinds of projects he took on, preferring to produce short sales or promotional films for internal use by companies rather than major advertising campaigns. In a sense, he was lying low.\n\nOne of the most successful of those internal campaigns was another series of short films with Rowlf for IBM. Working with IBM meant Jim could continue to work with David Lazer, who impressed Jim with his energy and enthusiasm. Jim and Lazer could sit talking for hours in Jim's office or even huddled together in the editing room while Jim cut film or dubbed sound effects. Some evenings, Lisa or Cheryl\u2014or sometimes both\u2014would join Jim and Lazer in the workshop, giving Lazer the opportunity to observe Jim with his children\u2014and Lazer immediately understood why Jim could so effortlessly produce segments for _Sesame Street_ that resonated with children.\n\n\"We were really checking the clocks to finish the edit,\" Lazer said, \"and either Cheryl or Lisa asked a question, and he turned around\u2014and I was going crazy\u2014and he turned around as calm as could be and gave her a straight, honest adult answer. And I learned a lesson then: he had such respect for his children.... They asked him a question, and he took the time to answer it.\"\n\n\"The attitude you have as a parent is what your kids will learn from more than what you tell them,\" Jim said later. \"They don't remember what you try to teach them. They remember what you _are_.\" As Lazer had noticed, Jim valued the views of his children and, in fact, frequently asked for their opinions of his work, gauging their reactions to performances and asking questions. \"Jim was intrigued with his children,\" said Jane. \"They had a great sense of humor and so he immediately started using them to find out what was funny, what worked. He really respected their opinions.\" Generally, if the children laughed, the routine stayed in. If they didn't, ten-year-old Lisa was often the first to pipe up with a critique. \"Lisa has great taste,\" Jim told _The Philadelphia Inquirer_. \"She can tell you specifically if something is working, or if you're doing a punch line above children's heads. If she feels they won't understand it, we make it simpler.\"\n\nWith countless newspaper interviews and his Muppets peering out from the cover of _TV Guide_ , Jim and the Muppets were quickly becoming the public face of _Sesame Street_. As such, his time was more and more in demand for participation in various education conferences, attending CTW seminars with Jane at the stately Arden House in Harriman, New York, or spending several days in Aspen at a symposium discussing education on television. Jim was continuing to feel boxed in by being thought of primarily as a children's performer, and reminded readers in one interview after another that he considered his success on _Sesame Street_ \"odd, because we're really not kid oriented. About 95 percent of all the things I've ever done [have] been for adults.\"\n\nJim was still working hard to get several non\u2013Sesame _Street\u2013_ related Muppet projects off the ground, including a Christmas special that Jerry Juhl had been writing as far back as 1963, about Santa Claus being kidnapped and replaced by an impostor who plans to burgle homes around the world. Jim had been trying to sell the show for the last seven years, rewriting the script and pitching all the major networks\u2014including a few in Canada\u2014until finally, in June 1970, Ed Sullivan, long impressed with Jim and his appearances on his show, agreed to produce the script as the hour-long feature _The Great Santa Claus Switch_.\n\nOnce again, there were personnel issues. While Santa would be played by a live actor\u2014Jim had suggested Zero Mostel and Phil Silvers, before landing Art Carney\u2014there would be countless new Muppet monsters and walkaround characters, which would require performers Jim didn't have. Instead of scouting for talent at puppetry conventions, this time Jim decided to bring the potential talent to him by hosting a series of auditions at the Muppet workshop. Before a single session could be set up, however, Jim found his first performer in an old friend and colleague: Jerry Nelson.\n\nIn late 1969, Nelson was performing small acting roles and taking odd jobs while devoting himself nearly full-time to the needs of his nine-year-old daughter, Christine, who had cystic fibrosis. While attending a Christmas party that winter, he had seen _Sesame Street_ playing on a television in another room. \"I forgot about the party and just sat and watched the rest of _Sesame Street_ ,\" Nelson said. After Christmas, Nelson called Jim excitedly. \"I told him I'd seen _Sesame Street_ \u2014and I was just flabbergasted and thought it was a really wonderful show. He asked me if I would be interested in a spring workshop that he was putting together to find people, because he needed a very large team for the [ _Great_ ] _Santa Claus Switch_. So I said yes.\"\n\nFor two weeks beginning June 15, 1970, Jim\u2014along with Nelson and Oz\u2014oversaw his first series of auditions for Muppet performers, a practice that would become a habit over the next twenty years. Jim was both pragmatic and idealistic about recruiting puppeteers. \"Puppetry is different, say, from making movies where you can just go out and hire people,\" he explained. \"In puppetry, you have to grow them yourself. You have to breed them. In other words, ours is very much a team effort.\" He was also careful to point out that there was more to being a puppeteer than the ability to lip-synch a puppet. \"We look for a basic sense of performance, a sense of humor,\" said Jim\u2014and therefore Muppet auditions had a tendency to attract not just puppeteers, but also actors, mimes, impressionists, and voice actors. \"You have to find people who put their whole performance into their hand,\" Jim explained, \"and that's a very specific talent that a lot of performers don't have. A lot of very funny performers will never be good puppeteers.\"\n\nOne unlikely performer was a twenty-three-year-old actress and voice-over artist named Fran Brill, who responded to the call for Muppet performers thinking she'd be hired merely to dub voices. Brill's voice indeed caught Jim's ear, \"but puppeteers do their own voices,\" Brill said, \"[so] I ended up doing the two-week workshop to learn the basics of puppetry.\" Brill would prove to be a talented puppeteer\u2014and it was fortunate for Jim he had found such a proficient female performer, for both Jim and Joan Cooney had been under fire from women's organizations for a lack of female Muppets, and Muppet performers, on _Sesame Street_. \"That was very much criticized,\" Cooney recalled. \"We had a terrible time.\"\n\nUltimately, hiring Brill turned out to be more than meeting a mere quota. \"She brought a sharpness\" to the Muppets, said Oz, \"a sense of craft.... She wasn't always funny, but that didn't matter. She knew our rhythms.\" After performing in _The Great Santa Claus Switch_ , Brill would cross over to _Sesame Street_ , at first performing Ernie's right hand, then working her way into characters of her own, including the forthright Prairie Dawn, a character she would perform for the next forty years. Jumping into the mix with Jim and the Muppet team, Brill said later, was \"analogous to a family of boys acquiring a female sibling. The family remained a 'boys club' but the dynamic changed when I as the younger 'sister' arrived.... I got kidded but I had to earn their respect. I had to keep up. It was challenging but an enormous amount of fun.\"\n\nThe June workshop found another puppeteer who bounced perfectly to the Muppet beat. If Brill was more sharpness than spontaneity, then eighteen-year-old Richard Hunt was her polar opposite. A fan of the Muppets since their early appearances on _Ed Sullivan_ , the gap-toothed, wild-haired, and openly gay Hunt was enthusiasm incarnate, with the gusto of a game show host, who was always grabbing a puppet to stick in someone's face. \"When I was eighteen, _Sesame Street_ had just started, and I thought, 'Oh, this might be a good way to do something,' \" Hunt said. \"I thought, 'The Muppets are nuts!' and I felt I would fit right into that.\" Right from the beginning, Jim and the Muppet team knew they had found someone special. \"God, he was a comedic force,\" said Oz. \"His craft actually wasn't great but he was such a force it just didn't matter.\"\n\n_The Great Santa Claus Switch_ was Jim's most ambitious Muppet-related project yet, utilizing nearly twenty performers and taxing the Muppet workshop to produce rows and rows of elves and monsters\u2014including several gigantic walkarounds\u2014in a short amount of time. \"It was one of the most exhausting times I ever had,\" said Muppet designer Caroly Wilcox. With the workshop crammed with designers, costumers, builders, and work-in-progress puppets, the team was practically falling over each other. Sahlin, nearing his wit's end, could be found at his workbench loudly blaring classical music to soothe his fraying nerves.\n\nWith the bulk of the work on _Santa_ complete, Jim began work that autumn on another set of number films for the second season of _Sesame Street_ , this time romping in various kinds of media, including short live-action films, computer animation, stop motion, and the \"moving paintings\" Jim loved creating. \"He'd be in the back working for hours, until three in the morning,\" Oz said, storyboarding, writing, painting, composing music, and editing with the same intensity as the baker films of a year ago. Among the pieces were two memorable stop motion films featuring the King of Eight and the Queen of Six, a computer animation featuring Limbo counting to ten, and a beautiful short film in which two cats invade a tea party in a dollhouse. The primary prop for this particular film was something very close to Jim's heart, for he had borrowed nine-year-old Cheryl's dollhouse, a charming replica of their own Greenwich home that Jim had constructed to fit Cheryl and Lisa's Madame Alexander dolls. \"My dad made the whole thing himself, which is a really big project,\" Lisa recalled. \"You can imagine how busy he is,\" and yet he still found time \"to make this entire dollhouse from scratch\u2014and it's beautiful.\"\n\nJim also worked closely with writer and illustrator Maurice Sendak on two short animated pieces he had in mind for the numbers seven and nine. In September, Sendak sent Jim his storyboards and sketches. \"I like both a lot,\" Sendak wrote Jim in his crabbed handwriting, \"but won't be hurt if you don't.\" There was little danger of that\u2014the sketches Sendak sent over were just the kind of playful chaos Jim adored: one featured a collection of seven colorful monsters who terrorized a village, while the other showcased a group of nine pigs who dropped in on a birthday party for a boy named Bumble Arty. Jim coordinated the projects with relish, working closely with the animators and editing the two pieces. The final films were exciting and vibrant, with deliciously dark undercurrents... and ultimately deemed inappropriate for young audiences due to the presence of cannons in one film and wine in the other. \"Yanked by the suits at CTW,\" Jon Stone told Jim wistfully.\n\nProduction on the second season of _Sesame Street_ began in early September 1970. In the off-season, CTW had at last modified Oscar's trash can to allow Spinney to perform right-handed\u2014but there were several other changes, some more subtle than others, taking place on the street as well. \"Jim never considered anything to be 'done,' \" Spinney said\u2014and in the past months, Kermit Love had slightly redesigned Big Bird, adding more feathers to the top of his head, which made him look less dimwitted, while Don Sahlin had tinkered a bit with the eye mechanisms to allow for more expressiveness. Spinney, and _Sesame Street_ 's writers, had also gotten a better handle on the character, no longer playing him like a country bumpkin, but rather as a four-year-old\u2014a preschooler in plumage. As originally envisioned by Jim and Jon Stone, Big Bird was intended to be \"the representative of the audience.\" At last, he truly was.\n\nOscar had undergone a facelift, too. Three months earlier, while preparing Big Bird and Oscar for an appearance on _The Flip Wilson Show_ , Jim had taken the opportunity to rework the puppet, slightly altering the shape of the head and changing his color from radioactive orange to a mossy green. That was all news to CTW head Dave Connell, who didn't see the revised Oscar until after the _Flip Wilson_ taping, exploding \"What the hell is that?\" But Jim wanted Oscar green. He would stay that way.\n\nThe only other disagreement regarding Oscar had to do with the character's personality. Spinney was convinced Stone and the other writers had Oscar all wrong. \"He's not a villain, not horrible,\" Spinney insisted. \"He fundamentally has got a heart of gold.\" It was a thesis with which Jon Stone strongly disagreed. \"There's no heart of gold,\" Stone said. \"The guy is a shit, right to the core.\" It would remain a point of contention between Spinney and the writers for years, even as Oscar became more and more popular.\n\nJim and other members of the Muppet team would continue to perform characters on the street set from time to time, but for the most part Spinney was on his own, the lone representative of \"Muppets West,\" as Jim would affectionately call him. During the first season, Spinney had sometimes worked with Jim and the rest of the team on the Muppet inserts, performing right hands or the so-called Anything Muppets\u2014Muppets that could be dressed with different eyes, noses, and hair as needed\u2014but \"he didn't really enjoy it,\" said Jerry Nelson. \"That sort of ensemble playing was not Caroll's forte... and so eventually he stopped doing it.\" In the opinion of Oz, Spinney lacked the aggressiveness to work within a group dynamic; his performing style was better suited for single character sequences.\n\nEven without Spinney, with the addition of Nelson, Hunt, and Brill\u2014and, at times, Jane Henson\u2014the rest of the Muppet team was starting to hit its stride. The team would work Fridays at Reeves Teletape where, for the first time, Jim had his Muppet sets built up on stilts, elevating the sets more than six feet off the ground\u2014a brilliant though obvious innovation that allowed puppeteers to perform standing up rather than on their knees or in rolling chairs. For the most part, the scripts for _Sesame Street_ were written weeks in advance\u2014\"they're just handed to me,\" Jim said\u2014but before passing them to Jim, many sketches had been punched up by Jerry Juhl, still working dutifully from California to incorporate a bit of madness into the Muppet sketches being written by _Sesame Street_ 's writing staff.\n\nIt wasn't always easy. \"There was a big three-hole binder,\" said Juhl. \"It was the writers notebook that came from the educational consultants on the show with all the goals and things.\" Many times, Juhl would think of something gloriously silly and worthy of the Muppets, \"then ransack this notebook trying to find [an educational] justification for the piece!\" Once Juhl's Muppetized scripts arrived, the Muppet performers would do a quick read-through\u2014while Jim delighted in telling reporters, with an absolutely straight face, that the Muppet team rehearsed for \"two weeks to a month,\" in truth, he preferred a more spontaneous style of performing\u2014then would pull their Muppets onto their arms, ready to roll tape.\n\nOnce tape began to roll, the real work\u2014and the real fun\u2014began. \"Jim was an extraordinarily serious, yet silly man,\" said Brill. \"He would encourage you to be as crazy as possible, because when you're inhibited as a performer, you can't be creative. Because he would be silly, everyone else would be silly.\" Oz could be very serious, almost stern, as he prepared to perform\u2014until the cameras came on, at which point he became a comedic virtuoso, creating characters and situations almost at will. There was always a playful irreverence for their craft, as if Oz\u2014unlike Jim\u2014had never really decided if this was something a grown man should do for a living. \"Ready to wiggle some dolls?\" Oz would ask cheekily, as the performers settled into place.\n\nJim was also fortunate to have Jon Stone in the director's seat, where he reveled in, and encouraged, the Muppet brand of silliness. For Stone, who spent all week writing segments or overseeing _Sesame Street_ 's live actors, directing the Muppet inserts on Fridays was \"like a day off... that was my holiday.\" A Yale-trained actor and dramatist, Stone preferred to direct from the studio floor rather than from the control booth, stroking his salt-and-pepper beard and grinning broadly as Jim and the puppeteers moved into place, then signaling the booth to start rolling tape by calling out \"Rolleeoleeoleeyo!\"\u2014the cue to the performers it was time for action to begin. \"He loved the one-on-one aspect of directing,\" Oz said. \"Everything enhanced the spirit of the show.\"\n\nFor Jim, that spirit\u2014like that direct eye contact with his own children that had impressed David Lazer\u2014mattered almost more than the message. _They remember what you are_ , Jim had said. The Muppets, then, were Jim's conversation with millions of children, spoken directly to them in a language they could understand: complete and utter silliness and abandon. And what about their parents who might be watching? Jim never doubted for a moment that it was their language, too. \"The most sophisticated people I know... inside, they are all children,\" Jim said.\n\nThere were times, though, when even Juhl's efforts weren't enough to liven up an otherwise well-intentioned _Sesame Street_ script. \"Often, the material that we were given was kind of dry,\" said Jim, \"but Frank and I would play with it and improvise and bring in gags until it worked for us. Sometimes you can make a line funny just by having your character do a double take. But always we did this while staying true to the spirit of what we had been given in the first place.\" The years Jim had spent in the company of joke writers on _The Jimmy Dean Show_ had served him well\u2014for Jim understood not only what was funny, but also how to take material provided by others and _make_ it funny.\n\nJim and Oz could be particularly uproarious when performing Ernie and Bert, wildly tossing jokes back and forth and improvising in character. \"Performing the Ernie and Bert pieces with Frank has always been one of the great joys of doing the show,\" Jim said. \"It's really a unique way of working in television, because... about half the time when Frank and I are working, we decide not to use the script. Instead, we'll take the basic concepts of it, and if it has a punch line or two, we'll circle around and hit those lines. But other than that, we'll just talk the piece and so we're really working spontaneously and just sort of playing off of each other. It's a lot of fun.\"\n\n\"We respected the writers' jokes and we knew we had to hit the educational aspect,\" agreed Oz, \"but we'd meander around all that.\" Sometimes that meandering took them widely off-script, and Jim and Oz would get so wrapped up in their ad-libbing that Jim would break down into a fit of his high-pitched giggles, laughing until tears ran down his face. \"The best thing of all,\" Oz said warmly, \"was to watch Jim laugh until he cried.\" Finally, as Jim and Oz composed themselves, someone would ask in mock professorial tones, \"And what are we teaching?\"\u2014to which Stone would playfully respond, \"Who cares?\" Educators and child psychologists might have scratched their heads trying to figure out how sneezing one's nose off into a hanky could possibly be educational... and yet as Jim and Oz played it, somehow it was.\n\nSo completely had Jim and Oz wrapped themselves in Ernie and Bert that it was hard to imagine that it had taken a bit of experimenting before the two of them decided who would perform which character. \"I can't imagine doing Bert now, because Bert has become so much a part of Frank,\" Jim said later. In Jon Stone's view, however, it should have been obvious all along. \"They're Jim and Frank,\" Stone said. \"Their relationship _is_ the relationship with Jim and Frank. Jim just loved to play tricks on Frank... and Frank is Bert. Frank is very buttoned-up and uptight and compulsively neat, and Jim was just wild and off the walls and funny.\" \"There are certainly elements of our own personalities in Bert and Ernie,\" agreed Jim. \"We play each other's timing and we play off each other very well. And that's what a good comedy team does.\"\n\nWhile Ernie and Bert\u2014and therefore Jim and Oz\u2014would come to be almost universally hailed as a comedic duo on the same upper stratum as Abbott and Costello, Laurel and Hardy, or Burns and Allen, Oz never really thought of Jim and himself as a comedy team. \"We were two people so in tune with each other that we didn't have to say anything to communicate,\" Oz said. \"We'd get done with a take and we'd look at each other and we both knew without saying anything that we'd have to do it again, and we both knew why. That was the special bond we had.\" They didn't make comedy, said Oz; instead, \"we created a kind of aliveness.\" Whatever it was, \"it was a magical coming together of a couple of characters,\" said Jon Stone. \"Frank and Jim were yin and yang.... They were this inseparable couple. It was a beautiful love affair, in the best sense of the word.\"\n\nBesides Ernie, Jim was regularly performing Kermit for the _Sesame Street_ inserts, though he had scaled back the frog's appearances somewhat following Gould's confusion over Kermit's appearance in _Hey Cinderella!_ The incident had left such a bad taste in his mouth, in fact, that Jim took Kermit off _Sesame Street_ altogether for nearly a year. Trying to fill the void, the writers introduced Herbert Birdsfoot, a nice guy lecturer performed by Jerry Nelson, \"to be a kind of Kermit spokesperson,\" said Stone. It was an experiment doomed to fail from the beginning. \"It never really took off,\" Stone said. \"Trying to follow Kermit is like trying to follow Will Rogers.\"\n\nActually, it was like trying to follow Jim Henson\u2014for the more Jim performed Kermit, the more the two of them seemed to become intertwined. While Jim always described Kermit as somewhat \"snarkier\" than himself\u2014as Jim had discovered from Edgar Bergen, a puppet could say things that couldn't be said by ordinary people\u2014it was becoming harder to tell where the frog ended and Jim began. Over the past few years, Kermit had become a more rounded, more refined character. \"Kermit is the closest one to me,\" Jim said later. \"He's the easiest to talk with. He's the only one who can't be worked by anybody else, only by me. See, Kermit is just a piece of cloth with a mouthpiece in it. The character is literally my hand.\"\n\nJim's other regular character was the excitable game show host Guy Smiley, a performance Joan Cooney always thought was Jim's funniest. Whether he was hosting game show parodies like \"Beat the Time\" or \"Here Is Your Life,\" Guy was an amped-up version of Jim's own personality, brimming with enthusiasm, rooting for contestants, and always convinced that whatever game they were playing was pretty much the greatest game ever. \"I live kind of within myself as a person, so my outlet has always been the Muppets; therefore, I tend to do sort of wildly extroverted characters,\" said Jim. The only downside to performing Guy was that his higher-pitched, nearly shouted manic voice could be hard on Jim's vocal cords; at times, Jim would finish taping Guy Smiley segments with his voice nearly ragged.\n\nOz had nearly the same problem performing a character who was one of Guy Smiley's regular contestants, a furry blue monster with a rumbling voice who, like other characters Oz would perform, moved from being a face in the background to front stage, where he became a break-out star: Cookie Monster. The voice, Oz said, was \"an explosion of energy\" that could \"absolutely rip\" his throat, and took some time for Oz to master without shredding his larynx.\n\nMonsters had been a Muppet staple for nearly as long as there had been Muppets\u2014Yorick had devoured Kermit on national television as early as 1956\u2014making it all but inevitable that Jim would introduce monsters on _Sesame Street_. Oscar, despite his appearance, somehow seemed to defy the label _monster_ \u2014he was a _grouch_ , which seemed to give him a status all his own. Cookie, on the other hand, was unapologetically a monster\u2014but if educators were worried that Jim's monsters would give preschoolers nightmares, Jim was already one step ahead of them, saliently explaining the educational aspects of his monsters even as he acknowledged educators' concerns. \"On _Sesame Street_ , the monsters are kind of soft and cuddly and fuzzy, but for a three- or four-year-old child, they might be rather frightening things,\" Jim said sympathetically. \"At the same time, the child can get to know these monsters and understand that they are not things to be frightened of. It's a scary image, but the child can learn to handle it.\"\n\nCookie could trace his roots back to a prototype built by Don Sahlin for a 1966 ad campaign for General Foods, when Jim had sketched three different monsters to each steal one of three shaped snacks called Wheels, Crowns, and Flutes. Cookie's ancestor, the Wheel Stealer, was a fuzzy, twitchy, googly-eyed fanged monster who grabbed and gobbled handfuls of wheel-shaped chips. When General Foods opted not to use the ad, Jim recycled the Wheel Stealer for one of his IBM Coffee Breaks, where the monster devoured a talking coffee machine, then exploded\u2014a sketch Jim enjoyed so much he recreated it for _The Ed Sullivan Show_ in 1967. The monster was used again in 1969, this time with his fangs removed, for the Munchos potato chips commercials. That defanged version eventually made his way onto _Sesame Street_ , where he first appeared among a crowd of monsters. At the end of Oz's skillful right arm, Cookie\u2014referred to in early publicity simply as \"Blue Monster\"\u2014slowly worked his way to the front of more and more inserts, devouring not just cookies, but salt shakers, telephones, and letters of the alphabet.\n\nAnother Oz-performed monster would become almost as synonymous with _Sesame Street_ as Big Bird\u2014and if Big Bird, as Jim and Jon Stone hoped, was the \"representative of the audience,\" then the fuzzy, lovable Grover was the audience's devoted best friend. As with many of _Sesame Street_ 's most memorable characters, it had taken some time before the character finally clicked. Like Cookie Monster, Grover had been simply one in a crowd of previously used monsters, having first appeared as a monster named Gleep in a 1967 Christmas sketch on _The Ed Sullivan Show_. In his first _Sesame Street_ inserts, the still unnamed Grover was more monsterlike, with darker, matted fur and slightly sinister eyes.\n\nBy the second season, that would change. Part of the transition had to do with design\u2014the monster was given a brighter, bluer fur, and wider eyes. But Oz had also begun to get a handle on the character, finally arriving at a name as he played with the puppet between takes, and developing a better understanding of Grover's motivation, thanks to some help from his dog, a devoted mutt named Fred. Watching Fred romping buoyantly in the park one afternoon, Oz said, \"I noticed the purity of the dog.\" It was suddenly clear. \"There's a purity in Grover,\" said Oz. \"He wants to please.\" Grover had arrived.\n\nFinding a character to act as Grover's primary foil fell largely to Jerry Nelson, who started on _Sesame Street_ in 1970 just as he had on _TheJimmy Dean Show_ in 1965: performing right hands. As he began taking on more characters, Nelson developed the first major straight man for Grover with the eternally annoyed Mr. Johnson, a blue, round-headed Anything Muppet who seemed to constantly dine in restaurants where Grover served as his waiter, and received perpetually poor\u2014though enthusiastic\u2014service. Acting as a foil for Grover \"really enabled me to get a real feel for that kind of ongoing, day-to-day playing in an ensemble manner,\" said Nelson. Nelson would become one of _Sesame Street_ 's most versatile and valued puppeteers, performing Herbert Birdsfoot, Sherlock Hemlock, Herry Monster, and, by the fourth season, the number-loving vampire Count Von Count.\n\nNelson also served as the lead puppeteer on Snuffleupagus, one of Jim's first two-man, full-body, walkaround Muppets, unveiled in 1971. \"Jim _loved_ complicated puppetry,\" said Cooney, though Jim admitted that the success of Snuffy was largely through trial and error. \"Every time we built [a full-body Muppet], we would learn a lot about what to do and not to do next time,\" said Jim\u2014and Snuffy was a true feat of engineering, requiring two performers to work cooperatively beyond merely right and left hands. Such cooperation required enormous intuition between two performers, and Nelson quickly learned that he and Richard Hunt could communicate just as silently, and just as seamlessly, as Jim and Oz. Into the rear of Snuffy Hunt went. \"It wasn't much fun for Richard,\" Nelson admitted later, but their performance, all the way down to Snuffy's dancing, was flawless. \"Richard was good and gave him good movement,\" said Nelson.\n\nFor Hunt, it was all an adventure. \"He was like a puppy... really bouncy and eager,\" said Nelson. \"So we had to sit on him a lot.\" It didn't seem to matter. Assigned largely right-hand (and tail-end) work and background Muppets, Hunt threw himself into any assignment with zeal and without complaint. Jim, too, quickly appreciated Hunt's ability to fall into sync with other performers, though Hunt admitted there was a bit of a trick to performing a right hand with Jim. \"I always used to do Jim's right hand as Ernie,\" Hunt said later, \"and I would hold one of his belt loops with my left hand so that I was with him literally. Otherwise you're being dragged along... by grabbing his belt loop, the minute he moves, I'm feeling him move\u2014with the first real spasm of the first twitch, I just immediately move with him.\"\n\nMany of _Sesame Street_ 's most memorable moments involved children interacting with the Muppets, a brilliant decision that was driven more by idleness on the part of the writers than inspiration\u2014when bits were ad-libbed, no scriptwriting was necessary. (When children were on the set, Stone would call out \"blue sky!\"\u2014code that a child was present and performers and crew members should refrain from swearing.) Instead, said Stone, \"we'd give the puppeteer a concept or a problem... and have them just talk it over with the kids. And we found early on that certain puppeteers\u2014Jerry, Frank, and Jim\u2014were wonderful at it.\" Even more surprising, said Stone, the team found that \"as soon as the puppet goes up on somebody's arm, the puppeteer ceases to exist.\" Jim was delighted. \"I'm working with Ernie, [who] has no bottom half or legs or anything like that. He ends at the waist,\" Jim explained. \"Yet, the kids will look right at Ernie and me\u2014this strange, bearded man\u2014standing right there, talking for the puppet, and there's no question the kids believe Ernie is a real personality.\"\n\nJim was proud of his involvement with _Sesame Street_ , and knew early on he was involved not only with something that could make a difference in the lives of children, but might also give his bruised-but-beloved television what he saw as a much needed sense of purpose. \"Family, school and television are the most important factors in raising children,\" Jim remarked to _TV Guide_ in 1970. \"Of these, television has the least sense of responsibility.\" Elsewhere, he complained candidly that \"TV is frustrating. It is an exciting art and communications form capable of contributing so much, but it just isn't set up to do it. It's geared to sell products\u2014the whole reason for being against all other things which are neat and innovative.\"\n\nStill, if his hope for a higher calling for television was destined to disappoint, Jim was committed to making his corner of television as bright as possible. \"Kids love to learn, and the learning should be exciting and fun,\" he said. \"That's what we're out to do.\" Echoed Juhl, \"It's why the show is a success. The show is obviously done to be entertaining and everybody has a wonderful time.\" And no one, said Cheryl Henson, was having a more wonderful time than her father. \"He loved to perform with Frank and Jerry and all the puppeteers,\" she said. \"When we were little kids watching _Sesame Street_ , we often felt as if my father was performing just for us\u2014but I think that he was really just having a good time with his friends.\"\n\nAs _Sesame Street_ began its second season, it was clear the show had become a full-blown phenomenon, endlessly discussed and analyzed by everyone, including television critics, educators, psychiatrists, clergymen, physicians, and writers like George Plimpton, who confessed that his addiction to the show had \"destroyed God knows how much writing I could have done.\" In November 1970, Big Bird appeared on the cover of _Time_ , fronting an extensive article that discussed _Sesame Street_ 's \"profusion of aims, [and] confusion of techniques,\" then asked rhetorically, \"how could such a show possibly succeed? Answer: spectacularly well.\" Already the show was broadcast in fifty countries\u2014though not yet England, where the BBC's chief of children's programming called the show \"nondemocratic and possibly dangerous for young Britons\"\u2014and was seen by seven million American children each day.\n\nThrough it all, everyone acknowledged that the Muppets were instrumental in _Sesame Street_ 's success. \"Jim's contribution was absolutely essential,\" said Jerry Nelson. \"I mean, the show never would have had the success it has without Jim's contribution to it.\" Even Jim's tormentor at _The New York Times_ , Jack Gould, became a grudging cheerleader. \"Jim Henson's Muppets... is still central to the success of _Sesame Street_. They are fun for youngsters and intriguing to adults in the imaginative ways in which he uses them.\"\n\nThe success of the show, in fact, became nearly overwhelming for Jim and quickly came to define the creative direction of Henson Associates, despite Jim's best efforts. The company that had produced such avant-garde, experimental fare as _Youth 68_ and _The Cube_ over the last two years was now all Muppets, all the time\u2014but Jim was optimistic, even grateful, for the opportunity to devote his time to the Muppets again. \"I think it wasn't until _Sesame Street_ that the Muppets took over most of my creative energy,\" Jim said later.\n\nIt was what the audience wanted and so I felt I should be putting my time and energy into that. The Muppets have always had a life of their own and we who do the Muppets serve that life and the audience. This entity called the Muppets is something that I don't dictate at all. The audience doesn't dictate it either\u2014but the response of the audience is all part of it. It has a natural flow of life that one goes with. It's been fun and rewarding\u2014just wonderful\u2014and I hope that will continue.\n\nThe success of _Sesame Street_ affected more than just his ability to develop other film projects; it was also the final impetus toward Jim pulling the plug on commercials altogether. \"When _Sesame Street_ came on... we were too busy to do commercials,\" said Jim. And, he had to admit, \"it was a pleasure to get out of that world.... It's a world of compromise.\" While Jim would continue to produce ads intermittently for the rest of his career, the creative thrill was gone. \"I just stopped doing that stuff,\" he explained later. \"At that point, I was at the level where they respect you and your opinion and all that sort of thing. But even then... every meeting is a meeting with a dozen people who all have opinions and the whole process is really not easy on a creative person.\"\n\nSo Jim was determined to get out of advertising\u2014\"my goals have changed, and are taking me farther away from the commercial area,\" he told a disappointed Quaker Oats\u2014but doing so would mean shutting off a major source of revenue for Henson Associates. Jim never liked discussing money; he had angrily scratched out a paragraph in his copy of a _TV Guide_ interview that speculated he had \"hauled in $350,000 in '69\" and earned about $25,000 per commercial. While the article had actually been fairly accurate, for Jim it had been rude to bring the matter up; talking about finances, he told another reporter, was \"really ugly.\" And yet the dilemma remained: Jim had given up most of his outside projects to commit himself to _Sesame Street_ \u2014and that commitment had impeded his ability to pursue the other projects he needed to stay in business. Clearly, another source of revenue was needed.\n\nChildren's Television Workshop also understood that finding that revenue stream was critical to its continued existence. The organization\u2014which relied almost solely on taxpayer funding and contributions from social-minded companies\u2014knew it couldn't count on such largesse forever. \"Foundation support is impermanent,\" CTW co-founder Lloyd Morrisett said plainly. \"Governmental funding is uncertain. Every organization needs a stable financial base in order to attract talented people.\"\n\nJim had actually made just such an argument at an October symposium hosted by Action for Children's Television, where he laid out the critical need for money in public television, addressing his comments to educators and possible benefactors in the same clear language he used when speaking with his own children. \"If I have a song to sing, it is about money,\" Jim wrote, \"because I think good children's television is more a money problem than anything else.... Good shows cost money, and if you want to have a lot of programs for kids, it costs a lot of money and someone has to pay for it.\"\n\nBoth Jim and CTW, then, had the same problem. And they found their mutual answer in the most unlikely of places: the _Billboard_ charts. At the end of _Sesame Street_ 's first season, Columbia Records had issued _The Sesame Street Book and Record_ , which sold half a million copies, peaked at number 23, and would eventually win a Grammy Award\u2014not bad for a year in which it had to jockey for position with albums by the Beatles and Led Zeppelin. Even more impressive, a single from the _Sesame Street_ record\u2014the catchy \"Rubber Duckie,\" sung by Jim as Ernie\u2014had reached number 16 in September 1970. Clearly, there was a market for _Sesame Street_ \\- and Muppet-related merchandise.\n\nIt had been Bernie Brillstein who had first broached the subject with Jim, calling on him at the house in Greenwich to make the case. \"I told him, ' _Sesame Street_ is now _boom,_ ' \" Brillstein said. \"And Jim was very peculiar about merchandising, because he usually didn't like what people did. And I'm saying, 'Jim, you have to merchandise those characters. It's insane! It's the most popular show in America!' \"\n\nAnd yet, Jim was skeptical. While he was always careful to make certain he owned his characters, that principle, to the frustration of toy manufacturers everywhere, had translated into little merchandise; in the last decade, he had permitted very few Muppet-related items beyond a series of Kermit and Rowlf puppets and a few promotional giveaways. \"You can't take advantage of the love the kids have for these characters,\" Jim would say time and time again. Oz, too, noted that bags of money had already been waved under their noses, to no avail. \"If Jim or the Muppets wanted to go only after money,\" said Oz, \"we could have truly cleaned up. I can't tell you how many cookie manufacturers wanted Cookie Monster to pitch their product.\"\n\nBut Brillstein was persistent. \"Here's what you have to do,\" he told Jim. \"First of all, you have to do it for the fans, for the kids. Second of all, you'll have complete control of it, and you control the quality. Third of all, if it works like I think it's gonna work, you will be financially independent and you can use the money for your own independence and creativity and no one will ever tell you what to do again.\"\n\nWith Brillstein's enthusiastic advice still ringing in his ears, Jim met with Joan Cooney to discuss the possibilities of merchandising _Sesame Street_. Jim brought with him Jay Emmett, head of the Licensing Corporation of America, which had managed marketing for organizations like the National Football League and handled the merchandising of Superman and Batman for National Publications. It was Jim's intention to have Emmett independently coordinate all the _Sesame Street_ \u2013related marketing\u2014meaning he would be an employee of neither Henson Associates nor CTW. Cooney, however, had other ideas.\n\n\"I said no,\" said Cooney, who wanted merchandising controlled inside CTW, \"and Jim and I had one of our little tiffs.... Jim could actually do no wrong for me, and I think that was true for him with me. I very seldom said no to him.\" But in this, Cooney stood firm\u2014and Jim eventually agreed that merchandising for _Sesame Street_ would be managed at CTW, in a new division headed by twenty-nine-year-old Christopher Cerf, a former senior editor at Random House. The basic agreement that Jim and CTW had negotiated in 1969\u2014in which Jim would continue to retain ownership of his characters, and split any merchandise-related profits with CTW\u2014would remain in place. The mechanics of that agreement, however\u2014including exactly how those profits would be split\u2014was another matter.\n\nBoth Jim and CTW agreed that quality and value should drive the product. \"Our bottom line consideration,\" stressed Jim, \"is to stay cost conscious and make sure the product remains a good value.\" On CTW's end, any contract Cerf negotiated required that merchandise \"receive the widest possible distribution\" and be \"available at the lowest possible prices.\" Further, Jim's approval would be required for any _Sesame Street_ products that used Muppet images\u2014which was practically everything.\n\nThe first _Sesame Street_ merchandise Jim and CTW agreed to allow\u2014mostly puppets, books, Colorforms, and puzzles\u2014shipped in the fall of 1971 from Random House, Western Publishing, and Topper Toys. Topper in particular had lobbied hard for the merchandising rights, adding 110,000 square feet to its plant in Elizabeth, New Jersey, to meet anticipated demand, allocating $400,000 to marketing, and paying an advance to CTW of $250,000. In the first year alone, Topper estimated it had generated more than $5 million in _Sesame Street_ \u2013related sales, splitting its profits evenly with CTW.\n\nWhen it came to profit sharing between CTW and Jim, however, things were less well defined. For the first few years, it was a complicated math problem, as lawyers from Henson Associates and CTW huddled almost weekly to argue over whether a product had \"more Muppets or more educational value\" and then divided the royalties accordingly. Eventually, the two companies negotiated an agreement that outlined broadly defined categories\u2014music, puppets, stuffed animals\u2014with preset percentages for each company, a structure that remained in place for thirty years.\n\nThe money began to flow faster and deeper than anyone anticipated. Western Publishing's _The Monster at the End of This Book_ , for instance, featuring Grover in a story written by Jon Stone, sold more than two million copies within a year, with Henson Associates being paid a \"designer's percentage\" for the use of Grover. By Jim's own estimate, _Sesame Street_ 's Muppet merchandising had earned nearly $10 million by the mid-1970s.\n\nAs was his habit, Jim invested most of the money back in the company. While Jim's percentage from the profits would never be enough to put the company on autopilot, it was sufficient enough for him to start investing in what he jokingly called \"research and development,\" gradually adding new performers and Muppet designers. The revenue would also provide Jim, as Brillstein had predicted, with the freedom to pursue other projects without worrying about whether they would immediately be profitable. \"Jim was incredibly proud of _Sesame Street_ and very protective of it,\" said Jerry Juhl. \"[But] once that show was established, he suddenly found himself being called _Mr. Children's Television_. He was perfectly happy to accept that\u2014but he really wanted to do something else.\"\n\n\"His means of expression were always more than just one thing,\" said Oz. \"He went with the flow, allowed it to happen to him, and then would diversify along the way.... He enjoyed _Sesame Street_ , but he was always doing new things.\" At the moment, however, no one knew exactly what this particular new thing was. And neither, really, did Jim.\n\n# **CHAPTER SEVEN**\n\n#\n\n# BIG IDEAS  \n1970\u20131973\n\n_Jim gives a rooftop performance of the gigantic Boss Man Muppet. Trying to shake his image as a children's performer, Jim tried for years to stage an elaborate all-puppet Broadway show, with increasingly larger and more complicated puppets_. (photo credit 7.1)\n\nTHE WEEK BEFORE THANKSGIVING 1970, JIM FLEW TO LOS ANGELES with Frank Oz and Don Sahlin to tape several short segments with _Laugh-In_ ingenue Goldie Hawn for her first solo television special, _Pure Goldie_. \"We can do anything you like,\" Jim had helpfully told Hawn's producer, but the Muppet moments would be brief\u2014Hawn had crammed her hour-long special with five other supportive guest stars jockeying for time. And yet, the Muppet appearance would be memorable, for it was the first time non\u2013 _Sesame Street_ viewers would have the opportunity to hear Kermit perform a song that had quickly grown close to Jim's heart and, within a few years, would be well on its way to becoming a standard.\n\nDuring the months they were taping _Sesame Street_ , director Jon Stone and composer Joe Raposo would meet each week at a bar just across the street from CTW headquarters, where the two would discuss the music needed for upcoming episodes. \"I'd sit there, and I would give [Joe] just a list of tunes I needed music to,\" Stone said. Halfway through _Sesame Street_ 's first season, Stone sat down across from the tunesmith and laid down a requirement for the coming week: \"We need a song for a frog.\" From that seemingly simple request came one of Raposo's most endearing tunes: \"Bein' Green,\" an anthem for tolerance and self-acceptance that seemed tailor-made as a hymn for the new decade, still struggling with the turbulent civil rights reform, political skepticism, and sputtering idealism that had marked the end of the 1960s. Given the cynicism of the era, then, what makes Raposo's tune so remarkable\u2014especially as sung by Jim\u2014is its sheer sincerity, never cloying or overly sentimental.\n\nJim had first performed the song for a March 1970 episode of _Sesame Street_ , in a quiet moment featuring Kermit sitting alone in a darkened forest. Raposo's lyrics, while slow and sweet, had a deceptively complex, syncopated structure, at times requiring a bit of verbal gymnastics to make some of the longer phrases fit the music:\n\n_It's not easy being green\u2014_\n\n_It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things_.\n\n_And people tend to pass you over 'cause you're_\n\n_Not standing out like flashy sparkles in the water_ ,\n\n_Or stars in the sky_.\n\nIn the first take for _Sesame Street_ , Jim was still feeling his way around the song, half singing and half talking his way through it, at times arriving at the end of the lines slightly ahead of the music. The performance was heartfelt, but Jim would make a better pass at the song for the _Sesame Street_ record later that year, turning in a slightly more upbeat, better-structured performance. As time went on and as Jim performed the song more and more, he would figure out how to get the most from it, slowing it down slightly to give it a more humble, introspective feel, which made the turn into the final verses one of quiet celebration. It was the song's resolution in the last verse, said Cheryl Henson, that truly fit her father best:\n\n_When green is all there is to be_ ,\n\n_It could make you wonder why_.\n\n_But why wonder? Why wonder?_\n\n_I am green\u2014and it'll do fine. It's beautiful_ ,\n\n_And I think it's what I want to be_.\n\nJim immediately appreciated the universal appeal of the song\u2014Frank Sinatra had already recorded it for his 1971 album _Sinatra & Company_\u2014and suggested Kermit sing the tune with Hawn. As it turned out, Kermit\u2014and the Muppets\u2014provided the only notable moments in an otherwise flat hour. Hawn wasn't surprised at all by the chemistry critics had noticed between her and Kermit. \"I really found it so difficult not to believe the Muppets were real,\" she said. \"They came alive to me and I guess I related to them. It's amazing. Kermit is a ball of string and felt, yet there is life in that.\"\n\nThat Thanksgiving, Jim and his family celebrated the holiday with his parents in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where Paul and Betty Henson had moved after Paul's retirement from the Department of Agriculture. Jim was worried about the effect mandatory retirement might have on his father\u2014\"one day he was working, and the next day he had nothing to do,\" Jim said sadly\u2014while Betty, meanwhile, was struggling with health issues. In the minds of many, including Jim, the death of Paul Jr. nearly fifteen years earlier had had a corrosive effect on her physical and mental well-being; she was no longer the smiling hostess remembered by Jim's friends and cousins. Concerned for the health of both his parents, Jim would make an extra effort to visit them regularly, often permitting the Henson children to remain with their grandparents in New Mexico for several weeks at a time.\n\nAs Christmas approached, Jim returned to the editing room to put the final touches on _The Great Santa Claus Switch_ , which was finally scheduled to air on Sunday, December 20. Jim was cutting it close; he was working on the final mix all the way into Saturday the 19th, and was finally pulled from the editing room to celebrate the arrival of an early Christmas present: his fifth and final child, a baby girl he and Jane named Heather. Jim raced to the hospital to visit Jane and his new daughter, passing a walkie-talkie to the rest of the Henson children in the parking lot so they could speak with their parents\u2014and their new sister\u2014as they waved from the hospital window.\n\nThe airing of _The Great Santa Claus Switch_ in December 1970 marked the end of a seven-year effort to bring the show to television\u2014and while the show would never become the holiday standard Jim had hoped, the reaction from critics was warm, even enthusiastic, calling it a \"delightful visual treat for the kids... which had adult appeal as well.\" Reviewers were particularly fascinated with two new gigantic walkaround Muppets Jim had created for the show, a team of fuzzy monsters named Thog and Thig. \"It was their show, no mistaking it,\" enthused one critic, while _Variety_ noted, \"Henson deserves credit for the new Muppets he devised, especially dullard Uglies Thig and Thog.\"\n\nJim was particularly pleased with the lovable Thog, and would spend the next few years grooming the character for stardom, pushing him out in front of several live shows and television appearances. But _Santa Claus Switch_ 's most lasting character wouldn't be Thog, but rather one of its nearly anonymous smaller monsters, a purple, hooked-nose creature named Snarl, who lived in a cigar box. Five years later, the same Muppet would be recycled and slightly remodeled as _The Muppet Show_ 's stunt-loving Gonzo. Just as significantly, the sidekick monsters in _Santa Claus Switch_ were referred to as \"frackles\"\u2014a word Jerry Juhl would come back to more than a decade later as Muppet writers tried to come up with a name for a new species of Muppet characters.\n\nJim spent most of the spring of 1971 working on _The Frog Prince_ , another installment of the _Tales from Muppetland_ series he had started with _Hey Cinderella!_ It was a project Jim was committed to producing quickly, though with _Sesame Street_ taking up much of his time, completing the script had taken longer than he and Juhl had hoped. \"Time is slipping away,\" wrote producer John T. Ross, who had agreed to co-produce with Diana Birkenfield, \"and we don't have a fortune to work with.\" By March, however, with the script approved, Jim was making regular trips from New York to Toronto to oversee the construction of several platformed sets at Robert Lawrence Studios. These were slightly different from the elevated backgrounds of _Sesame Street_ in that entire sets were elevated on struts, where they could be pulled apart and moved around, giving performers and Muppets the freedom to move easily in and out of them.\n\nIn late March, three days after completing work on the second season of _Sesame Street_ , Jim spent nine days directing and performing in _The Frog Prince_ , a relatively faithful adaptation of the classic fairy tale. Unlike the heavily populated _Great Santa Claus Switch_ , which had exhausted the Muppet workshop, _Frog Prince_ relied on a smaller cast, including Kermit and a number of pre-existing Muppets, such as King Goshposh, Taminella Grinderfall, and Featherstone from _Tales of the Tinkerdee_. Jim also introduced several new characters, including two who would become Muppet regulars, Robin the frog and Sweetums the ogre, an enormous walkaround puppet with working eyes and a gigantic, floppy bulldog mouth.\n\nIn the seven months since Jim's last visit to Toronto to film _Santa Claus Switch, Sesame Street_ had become an enormous hit in Canada\u2014and when word got out that the Muppets would be filming at Robert Lawrence Studios, Ross was flooded with requests from fans asking if they could come to the studios to watch. \"We just can't get into that, we don't have the room,\" an exasperated Ross told the _Toronto Telegram_.\n\nJim worked quickly, often directing from his knees with the Goshposh costume still pulled over his head. Other times, as his performers rehearsed, Jim would stand slightly off to the side in one of his colorful silk shirts, arms folded, laughing and _hmmmm_ ing supportively. Jim was willing to rehearse a scene for as long as it took to get it right\u2014and once he was ready, he would roll tape as long as needed. Finally, he would simply say \"Lovely\"\u2014a sure sign to the Muppet performers that he had what he wanted.\n\nWith editing completed in early April, _The Frog Prince_ aired barely a month later, premiering on CBS on May 11. The production was slick, with strong performances, good songs by Juhl and Joe Raposo, and a clever script\u2014and critics were rightly impressed. \"Jim Henson's Muppets are so humorously conceived, we've become terribly fond of them,\" said the New York _Daily News_ , while _Variety_ lauded the show for having \"both kid and adult appeal,\" a sentiment echoed by _The Christian Science Monitor_. \"Jim Henson's Muppets are so good,\" said the _Monitor_ , \"they may actually justify the cliche 'for children and adults alike.' \"\n\nReading his reviews, Jim likely breathed a sigh of relief: in the media, at least, he was beginning to be seen as more than just a children's entertainer\u2014but that didn't mean he had to stop continually explaining himself. \"Good, solid entertainment is funny for young and old,\" he patiently told one reporter. \"There is a tendency to think of _children's entertainment_ versus _adult entertainment_. It's possible to have an identical level for both.\" Still, he admitted it was difficult to convince adults that puppetry wasn't just kids' stuff. \"People don't tend to like [puppets],\" Jim said. \"They turn off at the idea, but that's because puppets are generally not well done.\"\n\nThat summer, he would have the chance to show just what puppets were capable of in perhaps the most adult venue of all: throbbing, glittering Las Vegas. In May 1971, Jim spent several days in Las Vegas meeting with the vivacious Nancy Sinatra, who was hoping the Muppets could help her make her mark with a show of her own in a town already conquered by her famous father. Jim was excited about the idea of performing in a live show in a large venue\u2014and the location Sinatra had chosen was huge indeed: the newly opened Hilton International, at that time the largest hotel in the world and featuring a showroom that seated more than 1,500. A room that size would require larger puppets, which could be more easily seen than regular-sized Muppets. With that in mind, Jim had set to work putting together new puppets and a new show designed specifically for a sizable Vegas audience in an equally sizable room.\n\nIt was hard work. Each evening, Jim, Oz, and Jerry Nelson would rehearse until nearly 2:00 A.M., then return to their hotel rooms, exhausted, to sleep until noon. Once the novelty of hitting the casinos or the spas wore off, Jim grew restless during the day and called Jerry Juhl in California to beg for his company\u2014a request Juhl was happy to oblige. \"Jim was going crazy,\" said Juhl. \"The days stretched before him endlessly.\" With the sun scorching down on them, Jim and Juhl would sit poolside at the Hilton, tinkering with the enigmatic _Tale of Sand_ screenplay they had begun in the early 1960s or bouncing ideas off each other for further _Tales from Muppetland_ specials.\n\nSinatra's show, which opened on a baking hot June 8, was acclaimed by critics as \"big, busy, colorful, exciting and highly entertaining.\" But it was the Muppets\u2014jostling for time alongside Frank Sinatra, Jr., and the flamboyant boxer Sugar Ray Robinson\u2014who most reviewers agreed \"brought down the house.\" \"We tried to put together material we thought would work in terms of large movement and color,\" explained Jim. \"There is that whole feeling of brotherhood and kindness and gentleness beneath it all but the idea here is to entertain.\"\n\nThe Muppets were given the plum position of opening the show, launching into the popular \"Mahna Mahna\" routine, featuring oversized versions of the Muppets he had used on _The Ed Sullivan Show_. Between musical numbers and sketches, Jim also took the opportunity to unveil one of his most ambitious puppets yet: a two-story, vaguely insectoid figure that appeared to be made of giant pipe cleaners, who danced and sang to the Luther Dixon and Al Smith blues tune \"Big Boss Man.\" The character\u2014which Jim would forever refer to simply as \"Boss Man\"\u2014was essentially a gigantic rod puppet that Jim strapped himself into, standing onstage visibly harnessed to the puppet as he danced it around the set\u2014a peek behind the puppetry process that one reviewer found \"jarring.\"\n\nJim was delighted with the Vegas show and with the experience of performing live again. Yet although the Sinatra show was hailed as family entertainment, appealing to more than just the preschool set, Jim was still finding it hard to escape from the shadow of _Sesame Street_ and had to continually steer reporters away from talking solely about his work for CTW. \"I don't particularly like people to think that is all we do,\" he told one reporter somewhat impatiently. \"We have always worked in the realm of adults. Maybe that's why we are here [in Vegas].\"\n\nIn fact, the Sinatra show had been a trial run, an opportunity not only to try out some new kinds of puppetry, but also to learn what would and wouldn't work on a darkened stage in a large room. \"Working here [in Vegas] appealed to us in many ways,\" he explained\u2014then announced a surprising new project: \"I have in mind doing a stage show,\" he continued, \"a full Broadway show with puppets. This [Sinatra show] enabled me to try a few things I wanted to try onstage.\"\n\nWith the Sinatra show running smoothly, Jim opted to take a quick vacation, handing his Las Vegas performing duties over to Oz and Nelson. In late June, Jim piled Jane and the five kids into the station wagon for a long, leisurely drive\u2014Jim _always_ loved to drive\u2014from New York to California, sleeping at motels, and stopping every now and then to take pictures of amusing signs and sights. In early July, they joined Jerry and Sue Juhl at the Wilderness Trails ranch in Colorado, spending nearly a week horseback riding and hiking.\n\nWhile Jim enjoyed vacationing, he had a tough time staying in one place for very long\u2014and just as he had in Las Vegas, he would become increasingly fidgety as the days passed, thinking about projects and scribbling ideas in small notebooks or yellow pads. Predictably, then, after only a few days in Colorado, Jim and Jerry Juhl stole away together to write\u2014they were still passing pages of the screenplay for _Tale of Sand_ back and forth\u2014and kick around ideas. \"We spent half our time riding around on horses, and of course the other half Jim and I sat working somewhere, which was always the standard pattern,\" said Juhl. \"[Jim was] not a vacation kind of guy.\" Still, when the children were around, Jim lavished them with attention, and Cheryl would always recall their vacation at the ranch as one of her favorites.\n\nThe Hensons closed out their trip with a swing through Las Vegas, where Jim returned to perform with Nancy Sinatra for closing night on July 18, then finished up with three days at Disneyland\u2014\"a great success,\" Jim said. By early August, Jim was back in New York, just in time to turn around and travel to Nashville to attend the latest Puppeteers of America conference.\n\nJim's continued membership in Puppeteers of America wasn't just a show of good faith to his profession. \"My dad... always remained faithful and involved with the serious puppeteers,\" said Lisa Henson. \"Jim was loyal to puppetry and to Puppeteers of America because he believed in the value of the art as a form of expression,\" said Oz. \"When you're a puppeteer, you act with the end of your arm. Your arm is your trade, and Jim appreciated that.\" That attitude was in direct conflict with Oz's, who never got comfortable with identifying himself as a puppeteer. \"The more I was associated with puppets, the harder it was for me to be associated with the other things I wanted to do,\" Oz said, \"or, at least, that was my own neurosis speaking. But Jim didn't have such apprehensions.\"\n\nIn fact, since his eye-opening trip to Europe in 1958, Jim had learned all he could about the long history of puppetry, reading about puppets in ancient Indonesia and Java, or studying the subtle differences in performance styles across European countries. Still, Jim refused to approach puppetry too intellectually. \"When I hear the art of puppetry discussed, I often feel frustrated in that it's one of those pure things that somehow becomes much less interesting when it is overdiscussed or analyzed,\" he said later. \"I feel it does what it does and even is a bit weakened if you know what it is doing. At its best, it is talking to a deeper part of you, and if you know that it's doing that, or you become aware of it, you lessen the ability to go straight in.\" More than anything, he was a fan, often collecting puppets for display in his home workshop. He was particularly pleased with a Sicilian rod puppet he had picked up, a four-foot knight in full armor with a detachable head ideally suited for losing in sword fights.\n\nThat autumn, between daytime work on inserts for _Sesame Street_ 's third season and late night recording sessions for _The Muppet Alphabet Album_ \u2014an ambitious _Sesame Street_ \u2013related project that featured a song for every letter of the alphabet\u2014Jim and Jane moved their family from the relatively secluded neighborhood in Greenwich to a more suburban home near Bedford, New York. \"That was a big difference,\" said Lisa, \"because we moved from this very historic building with a lot of personality to a brand-new home on a cul-de-sac suburban neighborhood.... We could ride bicycles and get out and walk to the bus and everything.\"\n\n\"It's nice for the children to be living in a neighborhood like this and going to the [local public] schools,\" Jim said. \"Jane and I are both essentially loners.... I don't think children should be isolated, but we don't get involved with the neighbors.\" That wasn't quite true\u2014some days, Brian would cut through the woods to visit a nearby horse barn, managed by a single mother with ten kids who allowed even her youngest children to rake their horse track by towing a large rake behind a converted milk truck. Brian was quick to lend a hand at the wheel. \"I was driving early,\" he said diplomatically. As Brian got older, Jim would permit him to drive their own cars from the street down their long curving driveway to the garage\u2014a task the twelve-year-old Brian \"absolutely adored.\"\n\nAs usual, the Henson home bustled with projects and activity. Jim and Lisa set to work building a highly detailed dollhouse inspired by a real Manhattan townhouse they had scouted out and photographed\u2014an ambitious project that took several years to complete. Brian built elaborate contraptions that would allow him to roll a marble from their bedrooms on the second floor all the way through the house down to the basement, while John would speed around the yard on his bike. Cheryl would ferry toddler Heather around the house and yard, painting Easter eggs in the downstairs playroom as Heather banged on a toy xylophone. Assorted pets, including cats, rabbits, guinea pigs, and a ferret, freely roamed the property, and Jane decorated the house with handmade crafts and pottery. \"At home, we had all kinds... of creative things going on,\" said Jane. \"So if there were puppets, they were made in the kitchen out of wooden spoons and paper cups and things like that.... Just a general feeling of creativity was always around the house.\"\n\nStill, there were times when even such quiet pleasure was too loud for Jim, particularly when there were projects to brainstorm, scripts to be written, or times he just needed to think. \"He loved to take a chair out into the garden and sit quietly, away from the hustle and bustle of the home, and just be,\" said Cheryl. \"He needed to find quiet time to hear himself.\"\n\nOn Thanksgiving Day 1971, Jim was the featured guest for all ninety remarkable minutes of _The Dick Cavett Show_ , performing several sketches\u2014including old standbys like \"I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face,\" newer skits like \"Mahna Mahna,\" as well as new _Sesame Street_ pieces\u2014and demonstrating how Muppets were built and performed. It was a fun and fascinating appearance, yet Jim looked uncomfortable, loping onstage in black pants and buckled boots with a slightly too short woven tunic pulled over a beige turtleneck. Slouching down next to Cavett on the couch and crossing his long legs in front of him, a bit of bare calf was slightly visible above his boot line. As he spoke, his hands played with his beard; Jim was visibly nervous. He had never really gotten comfortable on camera\u2014even the few times he had been called out onstage by Ed Sullivan after Muppet performances, Jim would shake hands and exit rapidly, saying as little as possible. \"It took him a while to get comfortable in his own skin,\" said Oz.\n\nJim admitted as much. \"I've... sat on the panel as myself just talking, not performing with the Muppets,\" he said later. \"I liked it, sort of. I was comfortable, but not really comfortable. It's not what I was meant to be here for. Frankly, I'm a lot more comfortable if I'm wearing a puppet.\" For this appearance, however, Jim, Oz, and Nelson would be performing their puppets as they sat next to Cavett on the couch, visibly interacting and ad-libbing in character. \"He was nervous about going on a live situation, unlike Frank, who kind of glories in that sort of thing,\" said Jerry Juhl. \"Frank really loves to go in, to work live and work dangerously and ad-lib.... Jim was always nervous about it.\" And yet Jim bantered gamely with Cavett, and even the few times things went wrong\u2014several tapes wouldn't cue up, and Ernie's sunglasses wouldn't stay on in one sketch\u2014Jim always recovered, using self-deprecating humor. But if Jim was nervous about his ability to match wits with the clever Cavett, the host himself was in awe of Jim. \"No matter how much you know about how this works,\" Cavett told his audience, \"the minute you see them again, they're completely convincing. It's amazing.\" As Jim performed Kermit from the couch, Cavett was captivated. \"It's hard to tell where Kermit leaves off and you begin!\" said Cavett.\n\n\"Yes, I've noticed that,\" Jim responded, smiling.\n\nJim spent most of the Christmas holiday working out ideas for his Broadway show, a project he was determined to stage sooner rather than later. Despite his recent work in more adult venues and more sophisticated puppetry, the label reading _children's performer_ , Jim feared, was beginning to stick. \"It's something I've always faced, this slight condescension toward puppets,\" said Jim. \"Well, my kids like puppets, certainly, but so do adults.\" The problem, as he saw it, was that adult audiences\u2014at least in the United States\u2014had never had the chance to see what good puppetry was capable of. The Broadway show Jim envisioned would finally give adult audiences that opportunity; more important, in the process, it would help him shed the stifling image the media was creating of Jim, and the Muppets, as purely sugarcoated kids' entertainment.\n\n\"Puppeteering covers a wide range of stuff,\" Jim explained to _The San Diego Union_ patiently. \"The nice thing is, you do it all\u2014you can write it, stage it, build the sets, the puppets. It's a complete thing. Puppetry has been around for thousands of years. It's a part of theater in which small wooden figures serve to represent people. In theater, people represent things. And with puppets, you can deal with subjects in a way that isn't always possible with people. I think of puppetry as expressing one's self through charades.\"\n\nIn the four months since he had publicly announced his intent to pursue a live show, Jim had filled page after page in his yellow pads with ideas for skits and draft scripts, scribbling them out as he always did with a black felt-tip pen, then handing the pages over to his assistant to type. In early December, in fact, he felt he was far enough along with the project to meet with representatives of Lincoln Center about staging the show in one of their theaters, eventually reserving the elegant, and practically brand-new, Alice Tully Hall.\n\nThere was good reason for Jim to assume the time was right for a live stage show for puppets. Sid and Marty Krofft had recently produced a traveling show\u2014basically a live version of their Saturday morning television hit _H.R. Pufnstuf_ \u2014the success of which was noted at Henson Associates a bit enviously. Additionally, in early 1971, puppeteer Wayland Flowers\u2014with his outrageous, wisecracking puppet Madame\u2014had opened a successful off-Broadway show called _Kumquats_ , billed as the \"World's First Erotic Puppet Show.\" Jim wasn't proposing anything quite that bawdy, though one of his first notes for the show\u2014called _In Uffish Thought_ in its earliest drafts\u2014stressed that \"it would not be supposed that the show is for children. It is intended to be an adult presentation.\" But perhaps realizing that aiming at a primarily adult audience might limit the show's commercial appeal, Jim had scrapped that idea and started over. While he still wanted to address more grown-up themes and write more sophisticated material, \"We know that many people will bring children, just because of the... Muppets,\" he wrote, \"so at no time will we do material in bad taste.\" Still, he assured potential investors, \"This will not prevent this from being strong theatre.\"\n\nJim would write countless drafts and proposals for his show\u2014pitched variously as _An Evening with the Muppets, The Muppets Get It Together_ , and _The Muppets in Concert_ \u2014submitting presentations containing beautifully colored illustrations, drafting complete show outlines, hiring songwriters, and continually filling notebooks with new ideas and character sketches. While proposals could vary depending on whom Jim was pitching\u2014whether potential funders, television executives, or Broadway producers\u2014they all had one thing in common: \"This is a very unusual evening of theatre,\" Jim would write in one pitch after another. \"It is puppetry\u2014but puppetry unlike any you've ever seen before.\"\n\nOne of the earliest and more intriguing sketches was a piece written by Juhl, based on an idea that Jim and Oz had regularly considered, but never carried out, during their days of performing Rowlf live with Jimmy Dean. \"We loved the idea of Rowlf sitting there on a huge podium, and then it collapses and you see Jim and me performing him,\" Oz said. \"We _loved_ the idea of being seen. That was one thing I loved about Jim\u2014he was never precious with the puppets.\" This progressive attitude toward puppetry was well ahead of its time; forty years later, puppeteers would routinely be visible to audiences as they performed their characters onstage in shows like _The Lion King_ and _Avenue Q_. In 1971, however, such an approach challenged nearly every expectation American audiences had for a puppet show.\n\nJuhl's script, then, began with Rowlf alone onstage addressing the audience. \"I'm not a real dog,\" Rowlf says earnestly. \"Where real dogs have hind legs, do you know what I've got? Puppeteers!\"\u2014at which point the podium hiding Jim and Oz would be pulled away, exposing the puppeteers, and shattering the barrier between reality and illusion. It was a theme that fascinated Jim _\u2014The Cube_ had practically been built around it\u2014and the concept would run through several sketches in yet another proposal, this time featuring a gigantic puppet named Clyde, who would be visibly operated onstage by five puppeteers. \"You will pay no attention to them,\" Clyde insists, \"because that is our illusion\u2014and that illusion is our reality, and the reality is the illusion.\" (Typically, Jim refused to end the piece on such a cerebral tone, noting that immediately after delivering this speech, Clyde \"explodes in all directions.\")\n\nIn other pieces, there was a new sociopolitical edge Jim hadn't shown with the Muppets before. Unlike Walt Kelly in _Pogo_ , however, Jim was never comfortable aiming his satirical punches at individuals; instead, he took on higher concepts like technology, science, the generation gap, and, in one particularly biting piece, greed and the economy. That particular sketch\u2014in which a giant, rolling face ingested stock funds and tax shelters\u2014was one of Jim's favorites; he had even gone so far as to have the Muppet builders construct a gigantic face, and took great delight in allowing reporters to take photographs of him being gobbled up by it. Ultimately, the show, as Jim saw it, was designed to \"present a series of contrasting moods and scale, showing the full range of what puppetry is capable of doing.\" It was clearly something new and unique: a puppetry _tour de force_ , cleverly written and ambitiously designed\u2014so ambitious, in fact, that Jim was finding it increasingly hard to hold it together.\n\nIn early 1972, Jim was back in Toronto to oversee preliminary work for a new installment of _Tales from Muppetland_ called _The Muppet Musicians of Bremen_ , adapted from the Grimm fairy tale. Many of the Muppets in _Bremen_ would have a slightly different look from puppets in previous specials, thanks to the addition of a new designer named Bonnie Erickson, whose sense of design was a bit more cartoony and less abstract than Sahlin's. Where Sahlin designed and built in flat abstractions, sewing soft, malleable Muppets from fabric and stuffing, Erickson thought and worked in three-dimensional textures, carving Muppet heads out of enormous squares of polyurethane that could be easily mooshed and mashed and manipulated by performers to give the puppets a dynamic range of expression. Erickson's most notable contribution to _Bremen_ would be the malleable foam heads carved for its hillbilly villains, giving each a look so bizarrely lifelike that one Hollywood special effects artist asked Jim how it had been done. \"He thought that we were applying the foam directly to people's faces,\" laughed Jim.\n\nTo give the foam heads a softer, fuzzier appearance, Jim had recently adopted a process called _flocking_ , commonly used in lining the interior of jewelry boxes. Flocking involved coating the Muppet's foam surface with an adhesive, then shaking fine synthetic fibers\u2014the so-called _flock_ \u2014through a screen onto the glue. When an electrical charge was run through the wet, sticky surface\u2014and for Muppet heads, this was usually done by sticking a pin into the puppet's face and electrifying it\u2014the flock would stand up perpendicularly and then set in place. It was flocking that gave the interior of jewelry boxes their velvety feel; when applied to the Muppets, it gave each puppet a fuzzy look. As an added benefit, it also caught the light in a manner Jim loved, lighting the puppet beautifully on television. From here on, the flocking of Muppet heads would become a regular practice, giving Muppets like Miss Piggy or Statler and Waldorf their soft, slightly stippled appearance.\n\nStill, the process for designing and building Muppets was always the same. \"The character comes first,\" Jim said, \"then I do a bunch of sketches and one of those will have an essence of the character.\" The workshop staff was small enough in 1971 that Jim was still able to oversee the development and building of nearly every Muppet himself. \"[Jim] was the art director,\" said designer Caroly Wilcox, \"so at least once a day he would make comments on how things were progressing.\" Sometimes, Jim would hand the designers a piece of yellow paper with nothing more than a squiggle with eyes and ears. \"It was fun to play with that,\" said Wilcox, \"the individual puppet builder designer had a lot more to put in.\"\n\nWith a growing staff, increasing revenues from merchandising to manage, and more and more contracts and legal agreements crossing his desk, Jim decided it was time to bring in a full-time business manager and administrator to keep an eye on the fine print and the bottom line. In March, he hired Al Gottesman, an attorney with a bit of showbiz savvy\u2014as a young man, he had served as a page for Sid Caesar's _Your Show of Shows_ \u2014who had earlier impressed Jim with his level head and steady hand during the negotiations that produced the complex math formula that divvied up merchandising revenues between Henson Associates and Children's Television Workshop. That made Gottesman ideally suited for his first task: protecting the Muppets from copyright infringement.\n\nThe enormous success of _Sesame Street_ had created a demand for Muppet merchandise that went beyond those officially licensed by Jim and CTW, which, in turn, had the unfortunate side effect of spawning an underground market of poorly made Muppet knock-offs. Public television stations, looking for gifts to give to donors, simply copied Muppet images onto watch faces; grocery stores, unable to hire the real Big Bird, threw together sloppy homemade costumes instead. \"[Jim] felt concerned about kids and the public being misled into believing that Big Bird looked the way some costumed Big Bird [did] in front of a supermarket,\" said Gottesman. \"It came from the integrity of the characters and of Jim.\"\n\nWith work completed on _The Muppet Musicians of Bremen_ in March\u2014it would air in April to generally good reviews\u2014Jim was filing away ideas for future installments of _Tales from Muppetland_ , such as adaptations of _Aladdin_ and _Jack and the Giant Killer_. He was also interested in adapting several books that were personally meaningful to him, including _The 13 Clocks_ (\"the one property I've wanted to do with the Muppets for twenty years,\" Jim wrote) and Margery Williams's sentimental _The Velveteen Rabbit_ , which Jim briefly considered producing with Raymond Wagner at MGM Studios. None of these projects, however, would advance much further than his notebooks.\n\nIn late April, Jim took the family on a short vacation, this time making the relatively short drive from New York up to Cape Cod. As Jim flew kites in the brisk ocean air, the Henson children would chase along behind him, clambering up and down the sand dunes. When the inevitable snarl of kite string occurred, Brian Henson would patiently work apart the knots and roll the untangled string into a tight ball. \"I was very good,\" Brian laughed. \"I found it therapeutic... I don't know why.... It was pretty chaotic at home. My brother was certainly quite chaotic.\"\n\nFor some time now, seven-year-old John Henson had been behaving erratically and recklessly, roughly handling the Henson pets or suddenly locking his gaze on some invisible focal point; of greater concern, he would sometimes pedal his bicycle madly in circles before wrecking intentionally. \"I was a strange kid,\" John admitted later. Mostly, he was struggling with the frustrations of being severely dyslexic, though John attributed much of it to \"an endless energy. If you look at the old home movies, everyone's around and every once in a while you'd see this little blond blur just careen through the frame; that was me. I was just always going\u2014and the faster the better.\" At times, recalled Jane, Jim found his youngest son slightly frustrating. \"[He and John] certainly cared for each other very much but I think they had probably a harder time understanding each other.\" Despite the bang-ups on his bike, John was convinced that he could never be badly hurt because a guardian angel was looking out for him\u2014an idea that Jim found fascinating. Jim and Jane consulted doctors and sent John for testing, hoping to help him overcome some of his difficulties with dyslexia and looking for advice that might help ensure their dreamy son didn't hurt himself.\n\nMost likely it was John's situation\u2014as well as Jim's own continued fascination with the brain\u2014that fueled Jim's interest in _The Affect Show_ , a weekly program being developed by CTW with the New Age goal of \"increas[ing] a child's psychological awareness of his own thoughts and feelings as well as his understanding of the thoughts and feelings of others.\" Gathering in June at the Arden House in Harriman, New York\u2014the same location where CTW had conducted many of its reading seminars\u2014CTW's cluster of child development specialists, psychologists, and educators excitedly discussed the potential for such a series, eventually suggesting that the show reflect \"a family mood with characters, probably puppets, who encounter situations that call for different types of personality or emotions.\" CTW agreed to hold another meeting in late July, \"by which time it is hoped some rough pieces of program material might be produced for reactions from the group\"\u2014a thinly veiled appeal that was aimed clearly at Jim.\n\nJim was intrigued by the premise, jotting down on lined yellow paper ideas for several skits that he thought might illustrate higher psychological concepts, such as a \"character that always sees things in abstract symbols\" or a \"character that summarizes.\" It was a show, he told producer Diana Birkenfield, that was \"meaningful\" and \"ought to be done.\" Birkenfield, however, was unimpressed. As Jim's producer, it was her job to look for projects that would be good for Jim and for Henson Associates\u2014and she didn't think this was one of them.\n\nTelling Jim no\u2014especially when he was excited by an idea or project\u2014was never an easy task. Over the years, only a few friends, acquaintances, and employees would ever really learn how to gently and diplomatically tell Jim if something was a bad idea or couldn't be done. One of those who could, and did, was Frank Oz, who left diplomacy at the door when it came to giving Jim his opinion. \"I'd say to him, 'this doesn't fucking work!' \" Oz said, laughing. \"But if he felt strongly about something, it was tough to get him to back down. Anyone could say no to Jim, but you had to do it in a certain way, and you couldn't argue too much. You had to know when to step back.\"\n\nStepping back, however, was not Birkenfield's style. A loyal and savvy producer with a sharp eye for quality, Birkenfield took her job as the first line of defense against unworthy projects almost personally. If she felt Jim was considering projects that were unworthy of his name or reputation, she would \"stand up to him and get angry at him and not talk to him for a while,\" recalled Gottesman. \"She was totally devoted to him and devoted to his work.\"\n\nIn the case of CTW's proposed _Affect Show_ , Birkenfield put her thoughts on paper, pounding out a blistering memo warning Jim that the show was an ill-advised idea that would not only take up too much of his time, but move his career in the wrong direction. \"In my opinion,\" she wrote, \"[the] Muppets should be working toward making it independently\" rather than tying themselves to CTW. Attaching the Muppets to yet another CTW project, she warned, was only fueling the limited perception of Jim as a children's performer. \"Adult TV has not been cracked, nor feature films, nor live presentation... [the] big thing that people can talk about... has yet to come.\" Birkenfield thought the proposed Broadway show might be the turning point in Jim's career\u2014but only if he dedicated himself full-time to getting it done, rather than allowing himself to be distracted by projects like _The Affect Show_. \"In the overall picture of what [Henson Associates] has done, is doing, and should be doing,\" she concluded, \"I do not see your specific reasons for becoming involved with this series... [but] you make the decision... and let's go.\"\n\nBirkenfield was right, and Jim knew it; after producing two admittedly \"poor\" sample pieces, he chose not to pursue the project, and the program never got off the ground. But that sort of aggressive approach grated on Jim. \"Diana was just a bit too relentless for Jim,\" said Oz. \"She would go after him.\" Jim never got angry or upset; he never erupted or lost his temper; instead, he would get very quiet\u2014\"powerfully silent,\" Oz called it\u2014and he and Birkenfield likely spent several hours in icy silence at the Muppet offices until smoothing things over. The following year, at a meeting in California, there would be a similarly heated confrontation between Birkenfield and the outspoken Bernie Brillstein as Jim looked on in stony silence. \"Diana vs. Bernie,\" Jim wrote wearily in his journal. Several months later, she and Jim would have a very frank and private conversation. \"Talked to Diana Birkenfield,\" Jim wrote matter-of-factly in his journal, \"\u2014ended her employment.\" Still, despite the difference in the communication styles, Jim admired and respected Birkenfield's talents, and would bring her back to the company in the 1980s. \"These things were never personal,\" said Oz.\n\n_Sesame Street_ \u2013related projects took up much of the summer, as Jim spent the end of July working on the _Bert & Ernie Sing-Along_ record, and August taping _Sesame Street_ inserts at Reeves. Still, Jim took time off in mid-August to head to Oakland for the annual Puppeteers of America conference\u2014and in September, he and Jane spent more than a week in Europe attending the festival for UNIMA, the _Union Internationale de la Marionette_ , an international organization \"devoted to the cause of international friendship through the art of puppetry.\" Jim had helped found the American branch of UNIMA in 1966, and in 1972 was serving as its American chairman. Jim was delighted with the opportunity to mingle with more than two thousand puppeteers from around the world, though perhaps the biggest thrill of the trip was meeting Russian puppeteer Sergei Obraztsov, whose book _My Profession_ had been pivotal in helping Jim learn puppetry in 1954.\n\nOn October 21, amid a particulary hectic meeting and travel schedule\u2014including a Los Angeles meeting to discuss the Broadway show with writer Larry Gelbart and musician Billy Goldenberg\u2014Jim learned that his mother had died in Albuquerque. The precise cause of Betty's death would remain a mystery; some thought she had simply pined away since Paul Jr.'s death more than fifteen years earlier. \"I think it's fascinating that Jim and the whole family were content to live with that mystery,\" said Lisa Henson. \"It was the religion, partially, but also an acceptance of certain unanswered questions.\" Jim flew immediately to New Mexico to be with his father\u2014but a typically packed schedule demanded that he turn around less than twenty-four hours later to go to Los Angeles to tape a Perry Como Christmas special. He returned to Albuquerque on the morning of October 23 to oversee his mother's funeral and spend several days tending to his father. Only Jane was with him; the children had been left in Bedford. \"My parents weren't really big on funerals,\" said Cheryl.\n\nBetty Henson's death affected Jim perhaps more deeply than he let on to others. \"Mom passed on,\" he confided privately in his journal, giving his mother three words more notice than he had given even to his beloved Dear after her death in 1967. In December, Jim immersed himself in Ruth Montgomery's recently published book, _A World Beyond_ , an \"account of life in the next stages of existence\" that Montgomery had purportedly written while channeling a deceased psychic. Montgomery's reassuring message\u2014that death is only a step toward a new level of existence\u2014was closely in tune with Jim's own unique brand of spiritualism: a belief in a higher consciousness, a higher calling, and a higher, inherent order to the universe. It was a message brimming with hope for a son coping with the loss of a parent.\n\nWhile afterimages of his Christian Science upbringing would remain part of his personal convictions, when it came down to it, Jim was more spiritual than religious, though he always remained \"very respectful\" of religion. \"My dad would never, ever be snippy about somebody else's beliefs,\" Cheryl said. If Jim had a guiding ethos, then, it was _optimism_ \u2014a faith that human beings lived their lives for a purpose, and everything would come out all right in the end. As Jim later wrote:\n\nI've read and studied about various other ways of thinking and I like the way most religions are based on the same good underlying principles....\n\nI believe in taking a positive attitude toward the world, toward people, and toward my work. I think I'm here for a purpose. I think it's likely that we all are, but I'm only sure about myself. I try to tune myself in to whatever it is that I'm supposed to be, and I try to think of myself as a part of all of us\u2014all mankind and all life. I find it's not easy to keep these lofty thoughts in mind as the day goes by, but it certainly helps me a great deal to start out this way....\n\nDespite this discussion of things spiritual, I still think of myself as a very \"human\" being, I have the full complement of weaknesses, fears, problems, ego and sensuality. But I think this is why we're here\u2014to work our way through all this and, hopefully, come out a bit wiser and better for having gone through it all.\n\nBut Jim's faith in the order of things\u2014\"the innocence and the simple optimism,\" said Jerry Juhl, that he \"really loved\"\u2014also entailed a balance between darkness and light. \"There was that dark side that he dealt with,\" said Juhl, \"and I think he kept searching into spirituality, looking for ways to synthesize what was happening, for ways to explain the dark side.\" Jim felt \"very strongly\" about reincarnation as one opportunity to balance the universe and atone for mistakes in this and past lives, said Richard Hunt\u2014but added that Jim \"wasn't some looney spiritualist type character. He just would look into _everything_.\"\n\nMuppet performer Fran Brill, too, was impressed with Jim's willingness to explore new ideas and new ways of thinking.\n\nOne of the extraordinary things about Jim was that he was a perpetual student of life. Genius that he was, he was always searching, questioning, exploring. When I first met Jim, in the early years of _Sesame Street_ , he was... going to psychics and palm-readers, experiencing transcendental meditation, doing _est_ \u2014whatever was out there. He was judgmental about nothing\u2014open to almost everything. I think he felt that all these \"journeys\" were the means to the same end\u2014raising his level of consciousness, deepening his understanding of how all things on earth were related one to another, that every action had a reaction. He told me that for him there was no one right way, but that he took a little something from all of them.\n\nUltimately, said Jim, \"I believe that life is basically a process of growth\u2014that we go through many lives, choosing those situations and problems that we will learn through.\" For now, that was enough.\n\nAs Jim coped with his mother's death, there was a business-related problem to deal with as well. For nearly a year, Topper Toys\u2014one of the busiest producers of _Sesame Street_ \u2013related merchandise\u2014had been hemorrhaging money, due largely to an ill-advised decision to try to compete with the highly popular Barbie with a lower rent doll called Dawn. After posting nearly $10 million in losses, there was an \"awkward mess\" between CTW and Topper over continued licensing rights to _Sesame Street_ , with Henson Associates squarely in the middle. In sticky cases like this, the lawyers for both CTW and Henson Associates would usually appeal to Jim and Joan Cooney to try to resolve the matter personally. \"We've got to stay together for the children,\" Cooney would earnestly say to Jim\u2014which was usually all that was needed for her and Jim to resolve the matter quickly. In the case of the problematic Topper, the licensing agreement would be terminated in January 1973, with Ideal and Fisher-Price swooping in to pick up the merchandising opportunity.\n\nJust after the New Year, Jim took the family to Stratton, Vermont, for his first try at skiing. Despite his prowess on the tennis court, Jim never considered himself much of an athlete; even his own family would giggle when Jim tried to do anything physical\u2014when he once tried scuba diving, Lisa had nearly hyperventilated with laughter. (\"I looked underwater, and I saw him all lanky, with his arms and legs flailing, and I just died laughing!\") Nonetheless, he gamely accepted Jon Stone's offer to join him at his Vermont home for a few days in January to take some skiing lessons and try out some of Stratton's gentler, sloping ski trails.\n\n\"Like every other first-day skier, he spent a lot of time on his backside until he was absolutely covered with snow,\" recalled Stone. \"It was all over his clothes, in his beard, [and] in his hair.\" At the end of the afternoon, Stone remembered waiting for Jim at the bottom of the mountain when he suddenly saw \"this skinny snowman coming at me down that gentle little hill, standing straight up, arms straight out to the side, poles dangling. I remember telling him he looked like Christ of the Andes, and we both sat down in the snow, laughing.\"\n\nJim loved learning to ski alongside his children. \"He really didn't like to do something with the kids where he was already good at it, because he didn't have the patience of them not knowing anything,\" said Jane. \"So his approach to skiing was, 'I have never skiied, so I'm going to learn to ski with the kids.' \" The kids loved it, too; part of the fun was having their father struggling and laughing right next to them. \"We were all about the same level,\" said Brian, \"which was fun.\"\n\nOn their many regular return trips to Stratton, the family would rent a house near the mountain and ski all day in a group\u2014except for Jane, who was often stranded back at the cabin taking care of Heather. Admittedly, spending all day skiing\u2014or scuba diving or horseback riding\u2014wasn't Jane's idea of a vacation. Just as Jane had simpler, earthier tastes in d\u00e9cor, so, too, were her tastes in vacations. She preferred casual, low-key family drives or visits to Cape Cod rather than the galloping, diving, rowdy vacations favored by Jim. \"[Driving] across country... that was more her style of thing,\" said Lisa. \"He liked a more active, kind of luxury trip... [while] my mom would stay home.\"\n\nApart from his new pastime, Jim was taking an interest in the burgeoning environmental movement, participating in a spring 1973 ecology special called _Keep U.S. Beautiful_ where he performed a musical number with monsters made from garbage\u2014ancestors of _Fraggle Rock_ 's Marjorie the Trash Heap. Typically, Jim downplayed his activism. \"I'm not an ecology nut, but I do have my own personal cause,\" he told the _Los Angeles Times_. \"People are messing up the cities something awful.... The aim of the program is not to tell people what to do, but to bring the problem out into the open so that hopefully they will think twice before they dirty up the streets and the roads again.\" In other words, there would be no heavy-handed messages; as he told his children time and time again, _They remember what you are_. The Muppets would lead by example.\n\nJim was continuing to hire new designers and builders for the Muppet workshop, bringing in two craftsmen who, in different ways, would have a lasting impact on the Muppets. The need for additional designers and builders was due partly to the recent reduction in Don Sahlin's hours, a difficult but necessary decision prompted by Sahlin's increasingly slow method of working. One new designer was the bespectacled and slightly eccentric Franz \"Faz\" Fazakas, a former employee of Bil Baird's who could out-gadget and out-tinker even the versatile Sahlin. While Fazakas had performed some minor puppetry on _The Frog Prince_ and _The Muppet Musicians of Bremen_ , his real strength was in designing and inventing intricate mechanisms that gave Muppets more versatility. It was Fazakas, for example, who would improve the eye mechanisms on Big Bird and Sweetums, giving both characters a much broader range of emotions.\n\nThe other craftsman brought into the workshop was a brilliant, bearded, twenty-six-year-old Californian named Dave Goelz, who had a degree in industrial design and an almost instinctive sense for puppetry\u2014though an often painful lack of confidence in his skills as a performer. Goelz, who had designed for John Deere and Hewlett-Packard, had seen the Muppets on _Ed Sullivan_ and _Sesame Street_ and became \"fascinated with the design process\" he saw on-screen. After watching Oz perform at a show at Mills College in Oakland\u2014Goelz later admitted he had stalked Oz \"like an assassin,\" meticulously watching the performance through a telephoto lens\u2014Goelz was determined to get involved with the Muppets.\n\nAt Oz's invitation, Goelz spent a week watching the Muppet performers taping _Sesame Street_ inserts at Reeves Teletape, bringing with him a number of homemade puppets to show Jim. Unfortunately, Goelz had chosen to be on-set during the week Jim was in France for the UNIMA conference\u2014but Bonnie Erickson, with an eye for design talent, was impressed enough by Goelz's work to recommend that Jim follow up with a phone call. Two conversations later, Goelz found himself in New York working at a bench in the Muppet workshop, sketching out designs and constructing elaborate puppets for Jim's Broadway show. It was a task well suited for Goelz\u2014but Jim would soon find a better way to utilize Goelz's considerable talents by putting a puppet at the end of his arm.\n\nWith new designers, countless yards of fabric, mounds of fake fur, and bins bursting with noses, eyes, and mustaches, the Muppet workshop had quickly outgrown its space on the second floor of Henson Associates. During the spring of 1973, then, Jim had rented\u2014then renovated\u2014a much larger space just up the block at 201 East 67th Street for the sole purpose of relocating the workshop. Moving the workshop gave Jim the opportunity to spread his designers and builders out across a large space they had entirely to themselves, while also giving the business offices some much needed breathing room just down the street at 227.\n\nIn late May 1973, following an appearance with Kermit and Cookie Monster at the Emmy Awards, Jim took thirteen-year-old Lisa and twelve-year-old Cheryl on a vacation to London and Copenhagen. For nearly two weeks, Jim and his daughters relaxed at the stately Grosvenor House in London's opulent Mayfair district, toured old castles in the English countryside, then traveled by boat across the North Sea to Copenhagen. Jim found the choppy waters oddly soothing, and would stand on deck with the girls endlessly watching the diving seagulls as the boat rocked in the waves. Jim's interest in the foaming, softly churning water was, thought Cheryl, a reflection of his growing fascination with his own subconscious\u2014a topic she and Jim discussed earnestly and that Cheryl had lately been exploring in her own poetry. \"I was starting to tap into that, to figure out that [water is] a great metaphor for the subconscious,\" Cheryl recalled. \"So I think that's what he was interested in\u2014because my father was very interested in dreaming and keeping dream diaries, and the subconscious.\"\n\nPerhaps Jim was also quietly trying to make sense of the disorder that had lately crept into his personal life. More and more, Jim and Jane were living at increasingly different speeds. Partly, it was a matter of personalities. \"Dad was driving fast cars and zipping around the country roads in our town,\" said Lisa, \"while Mom had developed the habit of driving very slowly with a line of eight to ten cars behind her.\" Even when walking the streets of New York, Jim and the older children would stroll at a rapid pace, leaving Jane half a block behind to walk more slowly with Heather and catch up at the next intersection. It was an apt metaphor for the current state of their always complex relationship.\n\nJim and Jane remained devoted to each other\u2014they had built a company together, had five children, and still shared similar artistic sensibilities\u2014but lately their differences in demeanor and temperament were becoming sharper and more accentuated. Jim was genuinely calm, almost stoic in his demeanor\u2014\"I think... he was setting an example to instill in us [kids] more calmness and peacefulness,\" said Lisa\u2014while Jane, on the other hand, openly felt, discussed, and displayed her feelings. The contrasting ways in which each of them expressed their emotions, then, inherently bred conflict. \"He was so repressed and kind of internalized about [his] emotions,\" recalled Lisa, \"and my mother... is very articulate about emotions and really feels them. And if she gets sad she gets _very_ sad; if she gets angry, she gets _very_ angry. They didn't mesh that way.\"\n\nThat difference alone could often make communication difficult. Jim never liked confrontation anyway\u2014he had subjected Diana Birkenfield to the silent treatment over a sharply worded memo\u2014and if Jane became upset or emotional with him, Jim would simply tune her out, which made Jane that much more frustrated. It was a self-perpetuating cycle that was doomed to keep the two of them from openly communicating. \"His repressive silence would really make her angrier and would ramp her up,\" said Lisa\u2014and the more Jane wanted to hash things out, the quieter Jim got.\n\nPerhaps in the same search for peace, Jim was also continuing to actively explore other New Age concepts that fascinated him, enrolling in a Transcendental Meditation class and reading intensely about reincarnation, alternative existences, and parallel lives. \"I think my father was _very_ intrigued by this idea of the parallel life,\" said Cheryl, \"and whether that parallel life _is_ the dream world, or that parallel life is literally a parallel life\u2014like maybe with a girlfriend or maybe with some other life other than the one you happen to be living where there are... five kids and your wife who you don't communicate with.... I think my dad was intrigued by that notion.\"\n\nAnd then in June 1973, things got even thornier: Jane discussed with Jim what he came to call her \"declaration of independence,\" writing the phrase in his journal in all capital letters, a sure sign that she had gotten his attention. Whether it was frustration over being marooned in the suburbs with five children while Jim worked in the city all hours of the day and night, sadness over her marginalization as a partner in the business she had helped create, or disappointment that Jim seemed more interested in spending time with the Muppet performers than with her, Jane had clearly had enough; she was no longer inclined to go quietly along. \"I think probably in the long run both of us wanted to do things our own way,\" said Jane.\n\n\"I probably just kept things inside for so long until [I said] 'Hey, look, I have a life, too. It's just not about you and your career. It's about me, too,' \" said Jane. \"He just assumed that I was either interested in what the children were doing, or I was interested in what _he_ was doing, and that was what wives do.... The problem, really, was that we just didn't usually talk about these things.\" Indeed, even as Jane had laid things out, Jim still refused to engage. Apart from his all-caps note in his journals, Jim responded to Jane's declaration with silence. He'd let Jane keep doing the talking\u2014and that would only deepen the chasm between them.\n\nDespite their increasingly different speeds, Jim and Jane would continue to do the things married couples do\u2014indeed, Jane was always \"fiercely loyal\" to Jim, noted Cheryl, \"even when she was mad at him\"\u2014putting on her best face as they traveled to the Emmy Awards together, attended conferences, and even celebrated their anniversary each year. But Jim and Jane continued to move at different speeds, and as time went on and the children grew, their emotional distance\u2014like that span of sidewalk between them as they walked the streets of New York\u2014would only widen.\n\nThings were much more firm in Jim's professional life\u2014at least at the moment. For much of 1973, Jim was aggressively pitching his Broadway show to several television networks, trying to gauge their interest in filming the live stage show for a television special he was now calling _An Evening with the Muppets_. Jim was so certain the live show would come together that he had already reserved Alice Tully Hall for three weeks starting in June 1975, with an option for a fourth. Jim estimated the show he was envisioning would cost roughly $350,000 to open, then $35,000 per week after that\u2014and in his pitch to ABC, he even proposed to share the profits from the show with the network in exchange for their backing, sweetening the deal by recalculating the start-up costs at a discounted $275,000.\n\nMaking things even more attractive for investors, Jim had recently secured the services of writer Larry Gelbart\u2014a good fit, as the two shared similar comedic sensibilities and a fondness for variety shows. He had also reached an agreement with Pat Birch, the Tony-nominated choreographer for _Grease_ , to assist with directing and staging, and had piqued the interest of Emanuel Azenberg, who had overseen several of Neil Simon's plays, about taking on the role of producer. For the music, Jim had contracted with a San Francisco organization called Imagination, Inc., putting them to work almost immediately on the hymnal music for the subversive \"Religious Piece.\" Everything seemed to be going smoothly\u2014until all of a sudden it wasn't.\n\nJim's major creative catch, Larry Gelbart, suddenly found the bulk of his time taken up by a new television show he had helped develop for CBS called _M*A*S*H_ , which would win Gelbart an Emmy the following year. \"Gelbart out of B'way,\" Jim wrote gloomily in his journal, though there would be no hard feelings, as Gelbart would helpfully provide Jim with other contacts as he tried to hold the show together. Next, the collaboration with Imagination, Inc. for music turned into a creative mismatch, and Jim released the company from its obligations in late spring 1973, bruising the ego of Imagination, Inc.'s Walt Kraemer. \"You're a better artist than you are a client,\" Kraemer wrote to Jim. \"I admittedly gave little thought to how we were ever going to work nose-to-face on a project of this scope.... I have no hard feelings because I am still proud of the work we did.\"\n\nJim tried to put the best face on things, assuring investors that he had either Joe Raposo or Billy Goldenberg lined up to provide the music, and brought in Marshall Brickman, who had co-written _Sleeper_ with Woody Allen, to help write additional material. The ever-loyal Jerry Juhl also vowed to stand by, ready to draft new Muppet sketches whenever Jim might ask. But despite Jim's best efforts\u2014and his unwavering belief in the strength of the show\u2014the project was disintegrating quickly. Jim would reluctantly shelve the show by autumn 1973, though for the rest of his life he would never entirely let go of the idea of putting together an elaborately produced live stage production.\n\nWith the prospects of the stage show fading, Jim redoubled his efforts to interest networks in several new television specials. Most were Muppet holiday-related specials\u2014Halloween, Thanksgiving, New Year's Eve\u2014but there were also the usual fascinating non-Muppet-related proposals, including the creepy, _Twilight Zone_ \u2013ish _The Monsters Inside Jason's Brain_ , another variation on Jim's fascination with illusion and reality, and _The Island_ , an artsy piece proposing to tell the same story from four different points of view.\n\nJim's method for pitching Muppet projects required both enthusiasm and stamina. As he had done when wooing Jerry Juhl and Bernie Brillstein a decade earlier, Jim preferred to pitch by doing, and would not only describe the show but also perform Muppet skits for pin-striped network executives, many of whom sat by blank-faced as Jim, Oz, and Nelson chattered back and forth, often with puppets on each arm. It was a process Oz found excruciating. \"We would carry these big, heavy motherfuckin' black boxes in cabs to go across town to try to sell the show to network executives,\" Oz said, his voice rising at the memory even forty years later. \"We'd perform it, and someone would say, 'That's great! Bob'\u2014or some other fuckin' guy\u2014'has to see this!' So then we'd do it some more.\" The problem, said Oz, was that no matter how many times they performed, they never seemed to have the person in the room who could actually approve a project.\n\nEventually, however, Jim found a particularly perceptive audience in a young network executive at ABC named Michael Eisner, who listened closely, laughed appreciatively, and\u2014unlike many of the executives who had so frustrated Oz\u2014could actually green-light a project. And as Jim and his team packed up their boxes to leave, Eisner gave them the go-ahead for a Muppet-related pilot. At last, Jim had yes for an answer\u2014and now that he had ABC on board to produce a pilot, Jim was certain a weekly Muppet television show was a sure thing.\n\nHe would be wrong.\n\n# **CHAPTER EIGHT**\n\n#\n\n# THE MUCKING FUPPETS  \n1973\u20131975\n\n_Jim's Land of Gortch cast from the first season of_ Saturday Night Live. _Left to right: King Ploobis, Wisss, the Mighty Favog, Scred, Queen Peuta, and Vazh_. SNL _'s human cast members hated giving up on-screen time for the Gortch sketches almost as much as_ SNL _'s writers loathed writing them_. (photo credit 8.1)\n\n\"THE TIME IS RIGHT FOR A VARIETY SHOW HOSTED BY DOGS, FROGS AND monsters,\" wrote Jim in his first official pitch for a Muppet-based television show. In the late 1960s, after nearly a decade of appearances on other people's variety shows, Jim was convinced the Muppets could more than hold their own for thirty minutes each week\u2014and in the summer of 1969, he had prepared his first formal proposal, packaging it under a hand-lettered, full-color cover page, announcing \"THE MUPPET SHOW [\u2014] a concept for a half hour PRIME TIME BIG BUDGET SHOW STARRING THE MUPPETS.\"\n\nEven in its earliest stages, Jim knew precisely the audience he wanted for _The Muppet Show_. \"The show is aimed at the adult or young-adult audience\u2014but it is a show for the whole family,\" he wrote. \"The humor and writing will be adult, but children always enjoy the puppets, and the show will present nothing in bad taste to offend kids.\" He was also certain of the format. The show would be \"a loose assemblage of bits and pieces,\" wrote Jim, \"incorporating a guest star each week who does musical numbers with and without the Muppets, comedy bits with some of the puppet characters, etc.\" While Jim was proposing Danny Kaye as a first guest, he was also willing to forgo the idea of a guest star altogether, offering to host the show himself \"in a low-key, unperformer way _a la_ Ernie Kovacs.\"\n\nJim's first draft was heavily influenced by the variety shows of the time, which relied on set pieces and recurring characters, in the same vein as _Laugh-In_ 's \"joke wall\" or \"Here Comes the Judge\" skits. Jim, then, proposed a number of regular segments\u2014which he helpfully illustrated with full-color cartoons\u2014including Kermit as a late night talk show host named Jackie Kavson, presiding over panel discussions that erupted into fistfights, and a skit featuring a prissy \"critic at large\" named Elmont Fidge who reviewed books and films with bawdy titles like _The Orgy Next Door_. Some of these bits, explained Jim somewhat clumsily, \"have a satiric point of view, but they often exist only for the sake of pure comedy entertainment.\"\n\nJim would tinker with his proposal over the next few years, describing shows built around guest stars like Paul McCartney or Stan Freberg, drafting detailed budget spreadsheets (Jim thought episodes would cost roughly $32,350 to produce\u2014a number far below the $125,000 he would eventually spend on each installment of _The Muppet Show_ ) and elaborating at length on why the Muppets were uniquely suited for a show of their own. \"Puppets are fortunate\u2014they can do and say things a live performer wouldn't touch with a stick,\" Jim explained. Later, he would enthusiastically\u2014though not very helpfully\u2014gush, \"The Muppets, more than any other puppets, are more real than the real thing.\" Ultimately, Jim's early _Muppet Show_ proposals were more passion than polish\u2014but once Jim opened his black boxes and began performing his way through Muppet skits he had only described on paper, his vision was clear, his enthusiasm infectious. In his April 1973 meeting with Jim, it had been impossible for Michael Eisner to say no. With Eisner's approval, ABC would back a pilot for a weekly Muppet series.\n\nNow that he had ABC's support, Jim sat down in July to discuss ideas with Jerry Juhl, television writer Jerry Ross, and former _Jimmy Dean_ scribe Will Glickman. Jim had his mind set on a Muppet Valentine's Day show\u2014yet another one of the holiday-themed specials he had been pitching for the last two years\u2014and met with his writers regularly throughout the fall of 1973 to review early drafts of the script. By early September, Jim had even landed an A-list guest, twenty-eight-year-old actress and singer Mia Farrow, who willingly agreed to serve as the Muppets' very first human costar. Things were moving quickly\u2014and yet, typically, Jim was juggling several other obligations, making it difficult for him to get his pilot before the cameras as quickly as he wanted.\n\nOf particular importance\u2014though Jim had no way of knowing just how important at the time\u2014was a two-week stint in London to film the television special _Julie on Sesame Street_ with Julie Andrews. Jim had first worked with Andrews in early 1973, serenading her with Rowlf on her weekly series _The Julie Andrews Hour_. Andrews's series was highly acclaimed, but with a poor time slot\u2014it was up against _The Mary Tyler Moore Show_ \u2014it was doomed to cancellation after only a little more than a year. Still, sympathetic executives at ABC offered Andrews the opportunity to star in five more variety shows over the next two years, this time permitting her to tape them in her native England and ceding production over to ATV (Associated Television) and ITC (Incorporated Television Company), overseen by British producer, media mogul, and impresario Lord Lew Grade. _Julie on Sesame Street_ would be Andrews's first special for Grade\u2014and on October 20, three days after recording a few songs for his Muppet pilot, Jim was off to London to work with Andrews.\n\nFor two weeks, Jim\u2014along with Oz, Spinney, Nelson, and much of the _Sesame Street_ crew\u2014zipped back and forth between the Cavendish Hotel and Grade's ATV Studios in London's Borehamwood district, piling the entire team into several cabs each day for the thirty-minute trip north. _Julie on Sesame Street_ featured the Muppets in nearly every segment\u2014there would be only a brief interlude for Andrews to sing a duet with guest Perry Como\u2014and Jim and his team worked almost constantly, rehearsing their singing and dancing all day, then filming into the evenings. There were plenty of charming moments, from Kermit singing \"Bein' Green\" with Andrews to rows and rows of dancing grouches in trash cans, though Jim had scuttled an idea for a similar performance featuring multiple Big Birds, politely but firmly explaining to Andrews's producers that \"Somehow it seems to make a rather unique large bird not quite so unique.\"\n\nBetween tapings, Jim managed to catch Joe Raposo at the Dorchester hotel for lunch, and spent time at the home of Mia Farrow and husband, Andr\u00e9 Previn, for some last-minute discussions with the Muppets' now visibly pregnant costar. When taping with Julie Andrews wrapped on November 5, Jim wasted no time returning to New York and his own project. But his hard work in London had landed him squarely on the radar of producer Lew Grade, who later admitted that he had been \"struck with [Jim's] originality and humor.\" Quietly, the savvy Grade, who was always on the prowl for talent, made a note to discuss Jim and the Muppets with his ITC producers.\n\nTaping on Jim's pilot\u2014which he was calling _The Muppets Valentine Show_ \u2014began at ABC studios on December 3, 1973. Jim spent three days taping Farrow's segments, then returned to the studio a week later to complete two Muppets-only pieces. Final editing took place in early January 1974\u2014and just like that, Jim had completed his pilot. To celebrate, Jim threw a party at his home in Bedford where he screened the pilot for his guests, then immediately took off on a fifteen-day press tour to promote the show in Baltimore, Philadelphia, Cleveland, San Francisco, and several other major television markets, including an appearance on _The Tonight Show_. As usual, Jim was up against the puppetry prejudice, constantly reminding reporters that the Muppets were for more than just children. \"We made this special to appeal to all ages, because a lot of people just think of us as a company that does shows for children because of all the _Sesame Street_ shows,\" Jim told _The Hollywood Reporter_ patiently. \"We want to maintain a separate image. Not all of our shows are for children.\"\n\nWith _The Muppets Valentine Show_ , Jim was clearly still feeling his way around for a format, placing the core of the show on a set that looked like an overgrown conservatory, and populating it with an assortment of monsters, most of them holdovers from _The Great Santa Claus Switch_. There were also several new humanoid characters, including George the Janitor and the detonator-wielding Crazy Harry (here called Crazy Donald, a nod to the explosion-loving Don Sahlin), both of whom would eventually make their way onto _The Muppet Show_. For the hosting duties, Jim turned things over to another new character, the vaguely human Wally, a sunglasses-wearing hipster who managed the Muppet cast while banging out stage directions on a typewriter. Kermit was there, too, but largely as a supporting character: while he did get to star in his own musical number\u2014where he pedaled across the stage on a bicycle, a trick that would wow audiences several years later\u2014he was otherwise blended into the crowd.\n\nOnly two weeks after completing final edits, _The Muppets Valentine Show_ premiered on ABC on January 30, 1974. Reviews were overwhelmingly positive\u2014\"absolutely delightful,\" bubbled _Variety_ \u2014and most seemed to acknowledge that the special played well across all age groups. The show impressed executives at ABC, including network president Martin Starger, who called Jim into his office in March for a conversation about other projects. While the weekly series Jim wanted wasn't yet on the table, Jim was still hoping to be given the opportunity to put into production several more holiday-themed shows he had outlined. Jim left the meeting in Starger's office without a firm deal in place, but each promised to keep the discussions going. It was enough for now.\n\nLate in the spring, Jim took the family on another car trip, spending Easter in North Carolina with his Aunt Attie and Uncle Jinx, along with cousins Will and Stan and their families. Attie, Betty Henson's oldest sister, was nearing seventy now, but remained in good health and spirits\u2014and for Jim, it may have briefly seemed like those days in Hyattsville again, with the families crowded around the dinner table, swapping stories and jokes. It was also a reminder to Jim of just how alone his father must have been in Albuquerque following the death of Betty Henson nearly two years earlier.\n\nRecently, however, Paul Henson had been spending more and more time with Attie and Betty's youngest sister, Bobby, now nearing sixty, who was also living alone following her divorce. Paul and Bobby's relationship wasn't necessarily romantic, but the two had known each other for nearly forty years\u2014and with each now living alone, it seemed somehow appropriate for the two of them to take care of each other. On May 22, as Jim, Jane, Lisa, and Cheryl looked on, Paul and Bobby were married in Albuquerque. While Jim acknowledged the marriage was one of convenience, he was pleased his socially inclined father would again have the companionship he craved and needed. For his part, Jim would continue his habit of regular visits, affectionately referring to the new couple as \"Dad and Bob.\"\n\nBack in New York, Jim was having\u2014by his definition, at least\u2014a relatively leisurely summer, auditioning performers at the new workshop in late May, discussing toys with Fisher-Price executives in June, and in July overseeing a segment for the national tour of the Ice Follies that featured several of his _Sesame Street_ characters. Jim was particularly excited about the Ice Follies project; after being approached by Ice Follies representatives with the idea, Jim had eagerly handwritten a twenty-nine-page script for the show, including lyrics for several songs. He was also intrigued by the mechanics of recreating characters that had only been seen in a smaller, hand puppet size as full-sized, figure-skating walkarounds. Working with designer Bonnie Erickson and the Muppet workshop, \"we blew them up so they were exactly in scale,\" Jim said proudly. When the segment finally debuted at an Ice Follies show in Sacramento that August, the crowd greeted the characters with thunderous applause\u2014\"one of those great roars of appreciation,\" recounted Jim. \"It was really neat to see it.\"\n\nMost days, Jim would drive into the city to check in at the Muppet workshop, arriving about ten in the morning, loping up the long stairway and quietly calling out \"Hi, guys!\" as he entered the main room. Most mornings, he would briefly gather the designers and builders around him to discuss individual puppets and projects before heading up the street to his office, half a block away. While Sahlin and Goelz could almost always be found tinkering with something, Sahlin had, for a while, turned the entire workshop into a whirring, clicking mouse terrarium, with wires and pulleys stretched across the ceiling and down the walls. \"Bonnie Erickson's boyfriend worked for Sloan-Kettering Hospital, and he would liberate mice every now and then, save them from being experimented on, and give them the dubious advantage of surviving in our shop,\" said Goelz. Sahlin had set up an elaborate elevator system by which mice could be dropped on the benches of unsuspecting Muppet builders; later, he built an aerial highway made of wires and Slinkies, allowing mice to clamber over cupboards, desks, and light fixtures. \"It was like a mouse freeway,\" said Goelz\u2014and more than once, Jim entered the workshop to find Sahlin bent over a table, working intently as a mouse sat perched on top of his head.\n\nThere were spiritual matters to tend to that summer, too. Over the past several months, Jim had been reading the metaphysical _Seth Material_ , written by spiritualist Jane Roberts, who claimed to be channeling a male personality that called itself Seth. In her books\u2014and through Seth\u2014Roberts explored life after death and the pros and cons of reincarnation, with the underlying message that \"You create your own reality.\" That intrigued Jim\u2014it was a message that must have resonated with a man who regularly spent his days creating completely new personalities at the end of his arm\u2014and on July 30, he drove to Elmira, New York, to pay his respects to Roberts and her husband. \"I find this inspired material very beautiful,\" Jim said of the _Seth Material_. \"It puts everything into a harmonious totality that I just love.\" Jim's interest in other realities was no surprise to Jon Stone. \"He was always interested in getting beyond,\" said Stone. \"I think he saw his mind as a sort of prison. He was always kind of outside of it, trying things that the rest of us just... keep going with our blinders on, down our own little path, and he was out in the woods somewhere. He was great.\" Oz, too, understood, and listened patiently but skeptically as Jim enthused about Roberts and Seth. \"I didn't believe a word of them,\" said Oz, \"but Jim truly believed in other realms. His willingness to believe gave him a kind of noble cause. There's a nobility in the Muppets, and Jim brought that.\"\n\nThat nobility was genuine, for Jim saw virtue and worth in nearly everyone. His own generosity, in fact, could be staggering. When Bernie Brillstein went through a divorce in 1974\u2014and lost nearly everything in the settlement\u2014Jim immediately loaned the agent $100,000 and told Brillstein there was no need to hurry to repay him. \"That's Jim Henson,\" said Brillstein. \"He was _grand_ in this strange, quiet way. His love was unbounded.\" Jim's faith in his fellow man was unbounded, too. Jim rarely, if ever, locked his car\u2014and if anything were ever stolen, he would simply shrug and say \"someone must have needed it.\" Even after his wallet was stolen from the front seat of his Jaguar\u2014yet another in a long line of flashy cars\u2014Jim refused to get angry; instead, he saw it as another teachable moment, and Brian Henson remembered his father launching into a mock sermon at the breakfast table, speaking in inflated tones on the value of forgiveness: \"My car was broken into and things were stolen,\" Jim told his family, speaking in the voice he would always use for his most self-important characters, \"but I realize I have a very wonderful life, I have plenty of money, and whoever it was who stole my wallet needs it more than me, so I find it in my heart to forgive them.\" While their father might \"make fun of himself a little bit\" at these moments, said Brian, \"his intention was to teach a lesson.\"\n\nIn August 1974 came the word that Jim had been waiting for: ABC had agreed on a development deal for several programs, including an after-school special, a ninety-minute movie of the week, and exclusive use of the Muppets on ABC for a period of time. While ABC hadn't opted for a weekly Muppet series, Jim had deftly persuaded the network to give him another shot at it, clearing the way for a second pilot. Jim, in fact, had already prepared an outline for a show he was calling _The Muppet Nonsense Show_. \"It would be a half hour show, with no guest star,\" Jim wrote, \"a lot more zany comedy, more magazine-type pieces [and] continuing characters that the audience will get to know and love.\"\n\nWith the deal in place, Jim was determined to get his second pilot in front of the cameras as soon as possible. Jim immediately put the Muppet designers to work on several new puppets he'd drawn, handing Bonnie Erickson pages of character sketches scribbled in his distinctive swooping style. One new character was a grinning piano player that Jim had based on the flamboyant New Orleans musician Dr. John, who had charted in 1973 with \"Right Place Wrong Time.\" Dr. John personified the kind of laid-back, hep-talking bandleader that had appeared all the way back in Jim's proposals for _Zoocus_ in 1960, and Jim's first drawing for the character boiled the performer down to the basics: a wide, grinning mouth over a scrap of beard, sleepy eyes, and a bulbous nose holding up wire-rimmed glasses. Erickson assigned the design of the character to a new member of the Muppet team: Michael Frith, a brilliant, thirty-two-year-old illustrator with a wickedly droll sense of humor. Frith\u2014who had been an art director and editor at Random House, where he had overseen much of Dr. Seuss's work\u2014wasn't a puppet builder, but he had a knack for taking Jim's energetic drawings and fleshing out their personality in beautiful full-color sketches that builders could use for further inspiration. Working off Jim's drawing, Frith sketched out a slightly more polished version of the character, giving him long rubbery arms, a potbelly, and a tall, feathered top hat. Across the top of the page, he scrawled out a potential name: Leon \"Doctor\" Eltonjohn Dontshoot (The Piano Player). However, given the character's wide grin and glinting gold tooth, Jim had a different, and simpler, name in mind: Dr. Teeth.\n\nAnother new character, too, could also trace its origins almost as far back as _Zoocus_. In Jim's outline for _The Muppet Nonsense Show_ was a regular skit featuring a frazzled foreign chef who \"create[s] new dishes\u2014with subtitles in various languages.... In the end, the dish explodes, walks away in disgust, or even eats him.\" At the USDA show in Hamburg in the early 1960s, Jim and Jerry Juhl had performed _Sam and Friends_ ' Omar as a live hand puppet creating a messy chef's salad as he ranted in mock German\u2014a bit Jim loved, but had kept out of his repertoire for nearly a decade. Now he would bring it back, though for the _Nonsense Show_ , the Chef, and his mock language, would be Swedish. Jim initially named the character _Jarnvagskorsning_ , a Swedish word that translated roughly as \"railway crossing,\" then decided that the name, while funny, was too hard to remember or pronounce. In his earliest appearances, then, Jim would refer to the character as \"The Swedish Meatball,\" and then simply as\n\n\"The Swedish Chef.\"\n\nDespite the relative simplicity of the puppet\u2014it was essentially a head with two empty sleeves through which a second performer could insert both hands\u2014the Swedish Chef was one of the last Muppets completed before filming on the pilot began in December 1974. It had been only a few months since ABC had approved the pilot, and in that time Jim had been in motion almost constantly, overseeing the writing duties with Marshall Brickman\u2014his collaborator on the unrealized Broadway show\u2014and _Sesame Street_ writers Jon Stone and Norman Stiles, as well as visiting the workshop every day to check on Muppet production.\n\nThere was a quick break in September for Jim to celebrate the Muppet team winning its first Emmy for their work on _Sesame Street_ \u2014a major accomplishment to be sure, though Jim was typically low-key about it, grinning somewhat stiffly in his tuxedo as he accepted the award along with Oz, Nelson, Spinney, Hunt, and Brill. Three weeks later, Jim and the Muppet team took nearly a week to travel to London for an appearance on _The Herb Alpert Show_ , dancing two enormous Boss Men Muppets to Alpert's \"Spanish Flea.\" But the rest of the time, \"[he] was in the office every day, and he was always either upstairs or he'd come down and work the shop,\" recalled Bonnie Erickson. \"Even to the end... Jim came in and worked on the Swedish Chef and I sort of finished for him.\"\n\nJim's work extended beyond the office and workshop; in preparation for his performance as the Swedish Chef, Jim was even working in his car, practicing his mock Swedish during his daily drives from Bedford into New York City. Jim had installed a cassette deck in his Jaguar on which he could both play and record tapes, and each day he would listen to a cassette prepared for him by writer Marshall Brickman\u2014who could bring Jim and Oz to tears with his ability to mock foreign languages\u2014instructing him on how to speak mock Swedish. After listening to Brickman's tape, Jim would then record himself\u2014speaking into a full-sized microphone he had clipped to the dashboard\u2014and play back his performance, trying to get it right. \"I used to ride with him a lot,\" said Brian Henson. \"And he would drive to work trying to make a chicken sandwich in mock Swedish or make a turkey casserole in mock Swedish. It was the most ridiculous thing you had ever seen, and people at traffic lights used to stop and sort of look at him a little crazy.\"\n\nIn mid-December, Jim spent six days taping his second pilot\u2014which he was now cheekily calling _The Muppet Show: Sex and Violence_ in an almost cathartic defiance of his kids' stuff reputation\u2014bringing in ten puppeteers, including Jane and several designers from the workshop, to perform more than seventy Muppets. Unlike the more deliberately paced and sweeter _Valentine Show_ , the snappier, snarkier _Sex and Violence_ bounced itself around a number of running gags, ranging from the homespun to the slightly surreal. Notably, _Sex and Violence_ also marked the debut of a number of characters who would later move into the upper tiers of the Muppet pantheon. Besides Dr. Teeth and the Swedish Chef, Jim introduced the rest of the Electric Mayhem Band\u2014the lanky bassist Floyd, the laid-back guitarist Janice, the silent, sax-playing Zoot, and the wild drummer Animal\u2014as well as Sam the Eagle (\"who represents the older establishment values,\" wrote Jim) and the curmudgeonly Statler and Waldorf, grumbling from oversized chairs in a parlor as a grandfather clock ticked loudly in the background. A prototype of Miss Piggy was even there, too, a carryover from the Herb Alpert special taped in London earlier that fall, and used here as a supporting member in the movie parody \"Return to Beneath the Planet of the Pigs.\" \"These are all characters that the audience will get to know and love\u2014or hate\u2014over a period of time,\" wrote Jim.\n\nWhile Jim didn't necessarily have any characters to hate, he did have one to yawn at\u2014a milquetoast, vaguely amphibious character named Nigel who, unfortunately, Jim had placed in the role of emcee. \"He's a lot like me,\" said Jim, though apart from the voice, that really wasn't the case. Nigel was an admitted \"middle of the road\" character, but lacked any real personality\u2014a failing that was especially obvious when the blas\u00e9 Nigel was played up against Oz's Sam the Eagle or Nelson's Floyd. Kermit, meanwhile, had again been relegated to the background cast, appearing only in a dance sequence. According to co-writer Jon Stone, the decision to bench Kermit had been deliberate on Jim's part. \"Jim wanted to get out of performing a little bit,\" said Stone. \"At Jim's request, we did not use Kermit, because he wanted to establish somebody else to be able to do it on a day-to-day basis and free him up to do his daydreaming and fantasizing and all that other stuff he did.\" Regardless, the decision to put Nigel at the helm was a mistake\u2014one that Jim would come to appreciate only after it was too late to remedy.\n\nJim completed the first edit of _Sex and Violence_ during the first week of 1975 and sent a rough cut to network executives for review. As he waited for the network's response, Jim went skiing with the family in Vermont, then drove to Washington to accommodate a distinguished request: the Smithsonian Institution was preparing an exhibit for the upcoming Bicentennial, and had asked if Jim would donate the original Ernie and Bert Muppets. Jim was proud to oblige\u2014and the two Muppets proved so popular that what was originally to be a four-year stay turned into a nearly fifteen-year residency for the Muppet duo. At the conclusion of the \"We the People\" exhibit in 1980, the museum wrote to Jim begging to keep Ernie and Bert a little while longer. A longtime fan of the museum\u2014he would even propose an after-school special called _Kermit at the Smithsonian_ \u2014Jim was happy to gratify the request. The Muppets would remain on display for another ten years.\n\nJim had scheduled another family vacation at the Snowmass resort in Aspen, Colorado, in early February, but dutifully scrapped his plans after receiving an unexpected phone call from director Blake Edwards, who wanted Jim to \"come over [to London] for lunch\" to discuss his participation in another television special with Julie Andrews, Edwards's wife. Jim flew to London early on February 8, arriving just in time for the promised lunch. He later admitted to being awed by the courteous manner in which Edwards and Andrews received him, dispatching a limo to pick him up at the airport, then bringing him to their home for lunch and tea. Andrews also promised to make up for Jim's canceled Snowmass trip by arranging a ski vacation for the Hensons in Gstaad, Switzerland. \"I... was just knocked out by the whole experience,\" Jim admitted later. He would make certain to treat his own guests with a similar courtesy once he had a show of his own.\n\nAfter agreeing to participate in Andrews's upcoming special, Jim flew back to New York to corral his family for the Gstaad ski trip\u2014but his schedule over the past few weeks had been grueling, and he was exhausted. As he drove home, he fell asleep at the wheel of his Jaguar, smashing it against a guardrail when he missed the exit ramp for Bedford. Fortunately, he walked away unhurt\u2014and a few days later he and his family departed for Gstaad.\n\nJim's family returned from Switzerland without him, as he de-toured back through London to spend several days taping Muppet segments for the Julie Andrews special. After wrapping on March 6, Jim flew back to New York to make his final edits on _Sex and Violence_. Work on the Julie Andrews special had put him behind schedule; he now had less than two weeks to complete editing before ABC aired the show\u2014and he had run into a minor problem.\n\nAfter reviewing a rough cut of the pilot in early January, ABC executives had written Jim with a number of suggested changes. Early on, Jim had run into trouble over the title _Sex and Violence_ for his pilot, as nervous network officials had surveyed potential viewers and fretted to Jim about their findings. In particular, they were concerned about the title for the special, which, they found, had \"produced substantial negative reaction.\" But Jim wouldn't budge. Besides the obvious nose thumbing at his squeaky clean reputation, Jim thought the title was just plain _funny_ , and that anyone complaining didn't get the joke. \"My 14-year-old daughter Lisa saw it, and throughout the show she kept asking 'Where's the sex?' \" Jim explained somewhat incredulously. \"As for violence, there probably wasn't enough to fill a thirty second spot announcement for _Kung Fu_.... The special's title... was a humorous hook. While the show depicted some of the current attitudes toward sex and violence, our purpose was to poke fun at them.\" While he would eventually agree to make several other changes the network had suggested\u2014removing a brief sequence where he appeared on camera to introduce the show, for instance, and shortening Dr. Teeth's musical number\u2014the title would stay.\n\nOverall, he was pleased with the final version\u2014\"freak city!\" he laughingly called it\u2014and he was anxious to hear what viewers and reviewers thought. Diligently, Jim made the rounds with the press to promote the show in the days leading up to its debut. He was chatting about puppetry and television in a much more thoughtful and relaxed manner than in the past; at other times, he tried almost too hard to make the case for puppets as art. \"Puppets are by their very nature symbolic, so any time you use them, you're doing something symbolically,\" he told one interviewer pensively. \"An audience will go away with their own message. But this is not a 'messagey' show,\" he added quickly, \"it's a fun show.\"\n\nAnd still, he continued to stress his credentials as an adult entertainer. \"A lot of our work has always been adult-oriented, so we'll be working a lot with those aspects of the Muppets,\" he explained to _The Hollywood Reporter_. \"Through this pilot, we hope to be able to demonstrate that puppetry can be very solid adult entertainment.\" Privately, in fact, Jim felt he was already pulling his comedic punches, after toning down some of his jokes out of deference to his reputation as a children's entertainer. \"He had lots of changes which were necessary, I think, in order to achieve the success he had,\" said Richard Hunt. \"[With the] Muppets... there was a sense of that perverted humor.... And he backed off that.\"\n\nReviews of _Sex and Violence_ were uneven, though Jim was likely relieved to see _Variety_ call it \"zippy\" and \"good fun for children and adults who are on the in.\" But rather than relying solely on newspaper reviews to determine whether he had succeeded, Jim had commissioned his own viewer survey, polling homes in New Jersey, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Atlanta, and West Virginia. Perhaps Jim was hoping to use the viewer comments as leverage in his negotiations with ABC for an ongoing series; if so, he was surely disappointed. \"There was a mixed reaction with regard to the material,\" the survey reported. \"A number of people felt that some of it was not funny. Some thought it was too far out.\"\n\nWhatever it was, ABC executives decided it hadn't worked; there would be no weekly Muppet series, at least not on ABC. But Jim was typically resolute; if ABC wasn't interested, he'd try someplace else. \"Perhaps one thing that has helped me in achieving my goals is that I sincerely believe in what I do, and get great pleasure from it,\" said Jim. Even the showbiz-hardened Bernie Brillstein could get caught up in that kind of dogged determination. \"We thought it was gonna be great, we knew it was,\" Brillstein said. And yet, one door after another was closed in his face. The response, said Brillstein, was always the same: \"We don't do puppets at night.\" \"Puppets are funny things,\" Jim said later. \"They seem to win the hearts of both small and grown-up kids, but the networks have never been eager to buy it.\"\n\nStill, Jim felt he was getting close; it was just a matter, he thought, of patience and personnel. At the moment, there was a noticeable hole in the administrative structure at Henson Associates following the uncomfortable but amicable departure of Diana Birkenfield in February 1974\u2014and for over a year now, Jim had been without a full-time producer to assist in the development and management of his projects. Although he had the devoted Brillstein looking out for him on both coasts, Jim knew he needed a producer inside Henson Associates who could help him steer his dreams of a weekly Muppet show out of choppy waters and into the safe port of prime-time television. He needed someone who knew and understood the media, was savvy in business, and, ideally, shared his sense of humor and low-key management style\u2014who could, as Al Gottesman put it, \"translat[e] Jim's philosophy and essential ethic about work and the quality of what he wants to produce\" into the actual practice of helping to run a business.\n\nThe more he thought about it, the more Jim thought he knew exactly who he needed. As he prepared to travel to Burbank in March 1975 for an appearance on _The Tonight Show_ with Johnny Carson, he placed a call to David Lazer, the dynamic IBM executive with whom Jim was still making short films, and asked to meet him at the Beverly Wilshire hotel. Jim suggested the two of them attend the Carson taping together, then discuss a bit of business over lunch the next day.\n\nJim made his appearance on _The Tonight Show_ in his version of dress attire, wearing a suede jacket over a dark turtleneck and dark trousers, his hair curling down onto his shoulders and his beard slightly shaggy. While he still looked vaguely uncomfortable, once he began performing Kermit, no one noticed Jim anyway: all eyes, including Carson's, were on the frog. When asked about his role in the _Sex and Violence_ special, Kermit complained that he had only \"one lousy line!\"\u2014perhaps a winking acknowledgment by Jim that he had made a mistake in sidelining Kermit in favor of Nigel\u2014and bristled in mock offense when Carson asked him about his love life. \"Listen, I work on _Sesame Street_. You don't ask a frog questions like that!\" Kermit replied. \"Do you ask Captain Kangaroo about his sex life?\" The line got a big laugh, but after the taping, Jim was upset about his performance, calling it only \"fair.\"\n\nJim continued to fret into the evening, groaning and _hmmm_ ing in his hotel suite and appealing to Lazer for reassurance. With the three-hour time difference between the East and West coasts, Jane would be able to watch Jim's taped performance on _The Tonight Show_ in New York even before Jim could watch it in Los Angeles. Jim eyed the clock, and at the appropriate time dialed home to discuss his appearance on Carson with Jane. \"He was very interested in her opinion,\" said Lazer. \"I liked that.\" Despite their widening differences, Jim still relied on Jane for emotional support and professional perspective; when it came to assessing Muppet performances, her instincts were almost always dead-on.\n\nThe next afternoon, over Mexican food at Se\u00f1or Pico, Jim asked Lazer if he would \"ever consider joining\" Henson Associates. Lazer was stunned. \"That was a dream,\" he said later. \"I remember having a fork [in my hand] and it froze... it was such a shock. And I said, 'Oh my God! Oh, probably!' \" As Lazer got into his cab for the airport, Jim leaned in the car window. \"I'm very serious, Dave. I want to hear soon. I want you.\" Three weeks later\u2014following a trip to Miami, where Jim had to soothe the hurt feelings of Lazer's employers at IBM\u2014Lazer was Jim's new producer. His impact would be felt almost immediately.\n\nWith his impeccably tailored suits, bright red ties, and loosely curled head of hair, the New York\u2013born Lazer looked as if he had stepped out of a central casting call for the role of Smooth Businessman\u2014a stark contrast to Jim, who was still wearing his flare-bottomed slacks, brightly colored shirts, and at times a colored scarf under a leather jacket. As a master of promotion, sales, and public relations, Lazer was determined to bring the same polish to Henson Associates that he had brought to the IBM product line\u2014and as far as Lazer was concerned, the product at Henson Associates wasn't the Muppets; it was Jim.\n\nTo Lazer, Jim was more than just Muppets; he was a creative force, on a par with Walt Disney, whose name epitomized a high caliber of entertainment that transcended any particular medium. \"We had to work on Jim's image, for his own sake first,\" said Lazer, \"and then let the _world_ know this man has such character.\" That was easier said than done; despite the fact that it was Jim's name over the door, Jim had never thought of himself as the face of the corporation. That had to change. \"Jim was considered an act, instead of who he was,\" said Lazer. One of Lazer's first missions, then, was to turn his boss from merely one of Henson Associates' performers into _Jim Henson_.\n\nNot that he was going to change Jim _too_ much\u2014and Lazer had some lessons of his own to learn about Jim's way of doing business. At Lazer's first staff meeting, Jim had asked his new producer to make a brief presentation, and Lazer\u2014brought up in an executive culture of flip charts and handouts\u2014completely baffled the Muppet designers and performers with his endless handouts and lists of people, profiles, products, and personalities. \"People were laughing and snickering,\" Lazer remembered. \"I was a suit... coming through a creative world. But,\" he added rakishly, \"I was a _maverick_ suit.\" Taking the hint, Lazer threw his flowcharts into the middle of the table and continued talking as if nothing had happened. Afterward, Jim sympathetically pulled him aside.\n\n\"It's not the same, is it?\" he said.\n\n\"Oh no,\" said Lazer. \"It's better.\"\n\nJim was delighted with that sort of response. His instincts about Lazer had been correct; he would fit in nicely.\n\nIn late July 1975, Jim spent two weeks in California to tape performances on several variety shows, including two appearances on _Cher_ for CBS. Jim's time with Cher would be notable more for what went on between takes than for what appeared on the show itself; Cher and her executive producer at CBS, George Schlatter, in fact, would play an important role in bringing _The Muppet Show_ to television.\n\nAt the urging of Brillstein, Jim had intended to approach Schlatter to discuss the possibility of CBS picking up a regular Muppet series\u2014and now that he was in Los Angeles, Jim, Brillstein, Lazer, and Schlatter huddled to discuss their options. While Schlatter couldn't necessarily approve a show, he _could_ help actively promote it at CBS\u2014but he needed more than just Jim's written pitches or copies of the two failed ABC pilots to make his case. He needed something dynamic to take to the network that would show, not just tell about, Jim's inventiveness and enthusiasm. Jim\u2014who had spent much of the first decade of his career promoting other people's products\u2014thought he had a solution.\n\nHe would make a commercial.\n\nNot just a regular commercial, but a lengthy _Muppet Show_ pitch reel\u2014one that would highlight some of the Muppets' strongest performances, spotlight the versatility of the Muppets, and, ideally, do so in a way that conveyed Jim's unique, and slightly skewed, brand of humor. Lazer was excited about the idea and suggested that the pitch reel mention by name the network executives who would be watching it and making the decision\u2014a trick he had often incorporated into his presentations at IBM. Schlatter\u2014the father of _Laugh-In_ and a writer with a wicked sense of humor\u2014volunteered to help Jim with the script. Even better, he also offered to make time available during the _Cher_ taping to allow Jim to tape a few segments with Kermit interviewing Cher and her daughter, Chastity, to give executives an idea of how the Muppets might interact with human guest stars\u2014an offer both Cher and six-year-old Chastity were happy to accommodate. The segment with Cher, in fact, ended up being particularly feisty, full of double entendres (many of which were fed to Jim by Schlatter, squatting on the floor beside him), which resulted in both performers laughing so hard that Jim eventually broke character.\n\nOn August 31, 1975, a little more than two weeks after his initial meeting with Schlatter, Jim was in the studios at Bevington Stage in Los Angeles to film the framing sequences for his _Muppet Show_ pitch. Most of the twenty-five-minute pitch would involve Kermit introducing clips of Muppet appearances, mainly highlights from the two Muppet pilots and assorted variety shows, as well as snippets of Kermit's conversations with Cher and Chastity. But the most memorable moment of the reel would turn out to be its final two and a half minutes, a new sequence written by Jim and Schlatter featuring a smooth-talking Muppet salesman performed by Jim who becomes more and more manic as he makes his pitch for _The Muppet Show_ , eventually building to a frothing, enthusiastic crescendo worthy of Guy Smiley:\n\nFriends, the United States of America _needs The Muppet Show_ \u2014and you should _buy this show_!... Buy the show and put it on the air and we'll all be famous!... and we'll all get temperamental and hard to work with, but _you won't care_! Because we'll all make a lot of money!... and _you'll_ be happy! And Kermit's _mother_ will be happy!\n\nThen, as a heavenly choir swelled, came Jim's comedic promise of huge ratings:\n\nAnd God will look down on us! And smile on us, and He will say, \" _Let them have a forty share!_ \"\n\nEven God, however, wouldn't get the last word\u2014and with the CBS logo rising like the sun in the background, Kermit wandered into the shot and stared straight into the camera to ask, \"What the hell was that all about?\"\u2014a joke Jim had written at the last minute, scrawling the line in pencil across the bottom of his script. After viewing the pitch reel with his fellow CBS executives, Perry Lafferty\u2014one of the executives mentioned by name in the pitch reel\u2014called Brillstein with congratulations. \"If they don't buy this,\" Lafferty told the agent, \"they're crazy.\"\n\nAnd yet, remembered Lazer glumly, \"it didn't sell.\" Standing partly in Jim's way\u2014at least at CBS\u2014was the recently enacted Prime Time Access Rule (PTAR), a policy implemented by the Federal Communications Commission to encourage more diverse and independent television programming. Prior to enactment of the rule in 1971, the major television networks had essentially barricaded themselves inside the prime-time viewing hours\u2014generally 7:00 to 11:00 P.M. Eastern Time\u2014which all but banished independent and local programming to early afternoons or late nights, where viewers and ratings were scarcer. Starting in September 1971, however, the PTAR required networks to open up the first hour of prime time to non-network programming \"so that [independent] producers may have the opportunity to develop their full economic and creative potential under better competitive conditions than are now available to them.\"\n\nThat may have sounded like an open door for the Muppets, but Jim's real problem was a 1975 rule change within PTAR, which exempted Sunday nights from the restriction\u2014exactly the spot where CBS was considering placing _The Muppet Show_. With the FCC exemption allowing the network to fill the entire Sunday night block with its own programming, CBS opted to move its floundering news program _60 Minutes_ into the first hour instead. That move quickly established _60 Minutes_ as the network's Sunday night flagship, but doomed the prospects for _The Muppet Show_ on CBS. (At least, said Brillstein later, the Muppets had lost to the best.) While disappointed, Lazer thought the pitch reel had still done \"something good for us. It said, 'We... have what it takes to do it.' \" It was \"a wonderful goddamn thing,\" agreed Brillstein\u2014and he would continue to show the reel to anyone who would watch.\n\nAt the same time Brillstein was circulating the _Muppet Show_ pitch reel, he was also lining up an opportunity for Jim and the Muppets to become a regular part of a new late night sketch comedy series being developed by another of Brillstein's clients, a thirty-year-old producer and former _Laugh-In_ writer named Lorne Michaels. \"He described the show, and I really loved it,\" said Jim. In August, then, Jim began meeting regularly with Michaels's writers in preparation for the weekly late night series Jim referred to on his desk calendar only as the \"NBC Show,\" but which Michaels was calling _Saturday Night_ \u2014and then, eventually, _Saturday Night Live_.\n\n_Saturday Night Live_ was a comedy variety show, but, as envisioned by Michaels and his scrappy team of writers, one unlike any variety show that had ever been seen before. \"We wanted to redefine comedy the way the Beatles redefined what being a pop star was,\" Michaels said later. The very idea of it\u2014an unpredictable live show unafraid of taking on politicians, presidents, or pop culture\u2014terrified the network even months before it ever went before the cameras. \"NBC was so scared of what Lorne... was doing that they insisted on Jim Henson and the Muppets [to] soften it,\" said Brillstein. Jim's inclusion, in fact, had been one of the network's non-negotiables. \"In the first contract for _SNL_ , there were three essential factors,\" said Brillstein, who had brokered the deal with NBC: \"Lorne Michaels, Jim Henson and the Muppets, and Albert Brooks's [short] films.\"\n\nFor his part, Michaels was delighted to have Jim's involvement. \"I'd always liked and been a fan of [the Muppets] and Jim's work,\" Michaels said. \"When we were starting _Saturday Night_ , I knew that I wanted as many different styles of comedy as I could possibly have, and I knew some of what the ingredients would be.... I just assumed that the Muppets under Jim would be able to do one segment a week.\"\n\nNestled safely in the deep end of late night television, Jim wanted to do something dramatically different with his segments, as far removed from the look and feel of _Sesame Street_ \u2014which, he knew, was still what audiences thought of when they heard the word _Muppets_ \u2014as he could possibly get. For Jim, the characters themselves were always the easy part: he knew he wanted monsters of some sort, scrawling out rough descriptions of five characters for a segment he was initially thinking of calling \"Muppet Night Creatures.\" But the universe in which these characters would exist was more problematic\u2014a matter Jim had struggled with in both of his _Muppet Show_ pilots, neither of which had clearly established where things were taking place. Jim made a long list of potential settings and scenarios\u2014a TV game show or sitcom, a therapy session, a rock group\u2014before finally settling on a vaguely described \"Mystic set up.\" Eventually, Jim would hammer out a typed proposal for his segment and set it in \"a place called Gortch,\" describing the world rather unhelpfully as looking \"either like another planet, or earth, sometime thousands of years in the future.\" The workshop began hurriedly constructing new Muppets\u2014with an eye on character designs by Michael Frith, who had translated Jim's rough descriptions into beautiful, brightly colored drawings\u2014and Jim checked in on their progress most mornings, even as he dashed off to the UNIMA conference in Detroit or business meetings in L.A. \"He was the hardest-working person I've ever met in my life,\" said Dave Goelz.\n\nAt noon on Wednesday, October 8, Jim and his team entered the soaring building at 30 Rockefeller Plaza and headed for Studio 8H, where they would participate in the read-through for the first show with the entire _SNL_ cast, an immensely talented\u2014and largely unknown\u2014set of young performers skilled in improv and hungry for success. On Friday night, the Muppet team attended a party thrown by cast member John Belushi, mingling casually with the show's eclectic crew of writers and performers and sizing each other up. After three days of rehearsal, one thing was clear: \"They had their style, we had ours,\" said Oz\u2014a distinction that would only become more and more obvious in the coming weeks.\n\n_Saturday Night Live_ , as even Jim was calling it by now, made its debut on October 11, 1975. For that first show, Jim and the Muppet crew had arrived at NBC at 1:00 P.M. for a walk-through with the entire cast\u2014including guest host George Carlin and musical guests Janis Ian and Billy Preston\u2014that lasted until after 4:00. Following dinner, there was a dress rehearsal in front of the studio audience beginning at 7:30, with cameras finally rolling live at 11:30 P.M. Lazer, sticking to his vow to promote Jim as more than merely an act, had arranged for Jim to have his own private dressing room, placing him in room 8H3 right next to comedian Andy Kaufman, who was also appearing on the first episode.\n\nThe Muppet sketch\u2014referred to as \"The Land of Gortch\"\u2014was featured during _SNL_ 's second half hour, coming in right after the commercial break that had followed the \"Weekend Update\" mock news segment. Jim's monstrous new Muppets\u2014including the gruff but stupid King Ploobis, his earnest sidekick Scred, and a mystic stone oracle called the Mighty Favog\u2014were all beautifully built and masterfully performed, but it was clear, even from the very first episode, that something wasn't working. The sketch was too long, and most of the jokes fell flat\u2014and things would only worsen as time went on. Oz grumbled that a new puppeteer, a stand-up comedian named Rhonda Hansome, performing the saucy Vazh, was throwing off their rhythms and ruining their timing, but Jim knew immediately that the main problem was with something over which he had absolutely no control: the writing.\n\nUnder Writers Guild rules, only writers hired for _SNL_ could write _SNL_ sketches\u2014and it was quickly apparent that the Muppets and _SNL_ 's writers weren't a good fit. \"Somehow what we were trying to do and what [the] writers could write for it never jelled,\" said Jim later. \"When they were writing for us, I had the feeling they were writing normal sitcom stuff, which is really boring and bland.\" Oz thought it had more to do with a mismatch between the basic comedic DNA of the Muppets and _SNL_. \"I think our very explosive, more cartoony comedy didn't jive with their kind of Second City, casual, laid-back comedy,\" said Oz, \"so the writers had a lot of trouble writing for us. They weren't used to that kind of Muppet writing.\"\n\nJerry Juhl, watching from California, understood that Jim was \"very frustrated\" that he had little input into the scripts. The _SNL_ writers, thought Juhl, \"didn't have any real handle\" on Jim's concept. \"Jim would come in with ideas, and sit with them, and give them wonderful ideas, and they wouldn't know how to fly with them.\" Lorne Michaels thought part of the problem lay in the skit's underlying concept. \"It was a very, very difficult premise that Jim had created,\" said Michaels. \"We didn't know what the rules of the world were yet.\" As a result, no one wanted to write for the Muppets. \"Whoever drew the short straw that week had to write the Muppet sketch,\" said writer Alan Zweibel. The frustration of the _SNL_ writers was often palpable; during one meeting in Michaels's office, volatile head writer Michael O'Donoghue angrily wrapped the cords of the venetian blinds around the neck of a Big Bird doll and stalked out of the room. \"I won't write for felt,\" he declared blackly.\n\nCompounding the problem was that many of _SNL_ 's writers were also performers on the show\u2014and every minute of airtime devoted to the Muppets meant one less minute that could be spent on cast members, who were rapidly developing their own personalities and break-out characters. \"They weren't interested in the Muppets because it kept them off the air,\" Juhl said plainly. \"The Muppets were known, but they weren't,\" agreed Oz. \"So they wanted every moment they could get.\" Even John Belushi, who was otherwise friendly with the Muppet performers, would sneer derisively about giving up his airtime to the \"mucking Fuppets.\"\n\nDespite the grumbling, Jim had nothing but good things to say about _Saturday Night Live_. He and Michaels liked each other, and Jim showed up without complaint for blocking and rehearsals every Thursday and Friday, then spent most of his Saturdays dutifully performing someone else's scripts until 1:00 A.M. \"Lorne Michaels loved them,\" said Lazer, \"but it was not a good feeling, going there... knowing you weren't loved there\u2014they were just putting up with you.\" Still, it wasn't all bad. \"The good part,\" said Oz, \"was that every Saturday was very exciting... meeting and seeing the beginnings of Andy Kaufman, and the great little films of Albert Brooks, and... John [Belushi] and Chevy [Chase] and Danny [Aykroyd].... A live show on Saturday night is always exciting.\"\n\nIt could get exciting for reasons that went beyond mere performing. The _SNL_ cast and writers were notable not only for their talent on-screen, but also for their rowdy weekly wrap parties, where prodigious amounts of drugs and alcohol were sometimes consumed\u2014a practice that could continue on into the working week. Cocaine was a particularly attractive substance to those working on a late night show, as the user could often go for days without sleep. However, _SNL_ writer Al Franken\u2014who usually ended up working on the Gortch sketches, with his writing partner, Tom Davis\u2014recalled that while a few writers and performers used hard drugs, for the most part marijuana was the drug of choice. Indeed, with its smoking craters, booze-guzzling Muppets, and explicit references to drugs and sex, there was a distinctive whiff of pot influencing the Gortch skits\u2014and even though Jim and his team had little or nothing to do with the writing of their segment, viewers were nevertheless convinced that Jim, and the Muppet performers, had to be on drugs.\n\nWhile Jerry Nelson and Richard Hunt were known to sneak away to pass a joint back and forth, the Muppet crew was, for the most part, fairly straitlaced. Oz wasn't a partier at all\u2014he found large gatherings too noisy\u2014and Jim, while he might enjoy a glass of wine or two from time to time\u2014and maybe, said Nelson, \"a little grass\"\u2014rarely ingested anything more potent than aspirin. He had, however, tried LSD exactly once\u2014and, if asked, would probably confess that it had been something of a disappointment.\n\nIn the late 1960s, as he pursued his dreams of a psychedelic nightclub and immersed himself more and more deeply in the counterculture, Jim had become fascinated with the idea of mind-altering drugs. Many of the musicians he had spoken with for _Youth 68_ had publicly admitted to dropping acid\u2014and had just as openly praised the alleged positive effects it had had on their art and creativity.\n\nWhile Jim's artistic vision was already expansive enough, he was intrigued by the possibilities of stretching it even further. He was determined, then, to take an acid trip, but confessed to friends that some of the reports he had heard about bad trips had scared him, and he was worried he might set himself on fire or jump out a window. Finally, he decided to try it in the company of his closest friends\u2014in this case Oz, Don Sahlin, Jerry Nelson, and Jerry Juhl\u2014nestled in the relative warmth and comfort of the Muppet offices. \"I remember Jim sitting at his little desk in that Eames chair of his, looking at his sugar cube laced with LSD,\" said Oz, who left shortly thereafter with Juhl, leaving Jim alone with Nelson and Sahlin to contemplate his cube. \"I took it,\" Jim reported later, \"and I waited... and nothing happened.\" Only slightly disappointed, he wished Sahlin and Nelson good night and drove home. If Jim's experiment with drugs had been a failure, one thing was clear: Jim didn't need chemicals to take his mind to new worlds; his mind was already there.\n\nThe world he had created for _SNL_ , however, wasn't showing any signs of life. Even Brillstein admitted that the Gortch idea \"was not a great thing\"\u2014a criticism at which Jerry Nelson always bristled. \"I always loved [Scred],\" said Nelson, who thought the characters had real potential if given the chance\u2014it was Nelson, in fact, who fought to have Scred sing \"I Got You Babe\" with guest host Lily Tomlin, dogging the idea through the show's weeklong writing sessions. It turned out to be one of the sweeter moments of the show, and a highlight even among _SNL_ 's strong first season of skits. Regardless, while Brillstein knew that \"Lorne, being Lorne, didn't want to fire them,\" it was clearly time to find something else. As it turns out, they didn't have to look long; Lord Grade, through his lieutenants at ATV and ITC, was looking for _them_.\n\nSometime in 1975, CBS executive Thomas Miller, a devoted Muppet fan, was scouting for original programming that could be shown on CBS-owned and -operated stations\u2014the so-called O&Os\u2014and had reached out to Abe Mandell, the New York\u2013based president of Grade's ITC Entertainment, to practically _beg_ Mandell to invest in a Muppet series. Mandell appealed in writing to Grade\u2014and Grade, who had already been impressed by Jim's ATV appearances with Julie Andrews, enthusiastically directed Mandell to approach Jim to \"see if he would do a TV series for me in England.\" Mandell and Brillstein traded calls for some time\u2014Brillstein typically played hard to get, letting Mandell chase him \"all over the country\"\u2014until eventually they agreed to discuss the matter at Mandell's home in Larchmont, New York.\n\nSitting down to chat with Brillstein and Lazer, Mandell led off by explaining that he and Grade \"always felt Henson would be interested in the right primetime Muppet vehicle,\" and expressed amazement that no network had added the Muppets to their prime-time schedules. Mandell noted that they were specifically \"looking for a series for... the primetime access period,\" that first hour of prime time that the FCC had pried away from the networks for independent and local programming. That meant Mandell\u2014and Grade\u2014wanted to produce and market the show not for any of the major networks, but independently, allowing Grade's ITC production company to market the show to local stations looking to fill the 7:00\u20138:00 P.M. access period or earlier. In the case of the Muppets, Mandell was already prepared to take the show directly to five of Miller's CBS O&Os located in the key markets of New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Philadelphia, and St. Louis. But this wasn't a network show, Mandell stressed; this was a whole new concept called _prime-time syndication_.\n\nBrillstein didn't blink, but he may have flinched. He knew Jim was skeptical of syndication\u2014the television equivalent of free agency\u2014which provided no real guarantees; after a significant financial investment, a show could be picked up by five stations, or fifty, or zero. Brillstein knew he would have to talk to Jim about it, but he thought Jim might be persuaded if Grade and ATV would agree to provide Jim with the resources he needed to produce the kind of show Brillstein knew he was capable of creating. At the moment, most weekly shows were budgeted at $80,000 per episode; Brillstein would make sure ATV did better than that\u2014but before he could open his mouth to discuss the higher rate, Mandell said they needed one more thing: a new Muppet pilot to take to the CBS O&Os. Brillstein roared with laughter. \"I said, 'I've saved you a lot of money,' \" Brillstein told Mandell, \" '[because] I have the best [twenty-five] minutes of film you've ever seen in your life!' \" As he and Lazer got up to leave, Brillstein promised to send over the _Muppet Show_ pitch reel for Mandell to watch, after which he and Mandell would speak again. Now that ATV wouldn't have to produce a pilot, Brillstein was certain he could negotiate a higher weekly rate.\n\nThe pitch reel was immediately dispatched to Mandell; the next day, Mandell phoned Brillstein with the news: \"We have a deal.\"\n\nStill, Brillstein didn't want to commit until he had a firm number from ATV on the budget. After back-and-forthing with Brillstein, Mandell finally called Lord Grade in London, where the producer agreed to raise the budget for the first season to $3 million. With twenty-four episodes per season, that gave Jim $125,000 to spend per episode, making it one of the most expensive half-hour series produced for syndicated television at that time. The only condition Grade had imposed on the deal was that Jim had to tape his show at Grade's ATV Studios in London. Brillstein\u2014without even checking with Jim first\u2014eagerly agreed. The deal was done.\n\nVibrating with excitement, Brillstein immediately called Jim. \"We finally did it!\" the agent shouted into the phone. Brillstein waited for Jim to inquire about the details, certain he would ask how much they were getting per episode. But Jim didn't\u2014and his response made the crusty Brillstein smile even twenty years later: \"I love you,\" Jim said.\n\nThe details could be discussed later\u2014and on the morning of Saturday, October 18, Jim met with Mandell to run through the fine print. The details were already spectacular: less than twenty-four hours after reaching their agreement with Jim, Mandell had sold _The Muppet Show_ to all five CBS O&Os, who wanted it in their lineups for the 1976\u20131977 season, starting in September. Following the meeting with Mandell, Jim headed over to Rockefeller Plaza to join the Muppet team in rehearsals for _Saturday Night Live_. During a break, he pulled Oz to one side. \"We're doing twenty-four half-hour shows,\" he told Oz excitedly, \" _guaranteed!_ \"\n\nFour days later, Jim and Mandell stood side by side at a cocktail party and press conference held at the posh \"21\" Club on West 52nd, where reporters had been told to come prepared \"for a major announcement.\" With Kermit on his arm and flashbulbs popping, Jim quietly reported the news of his deal with Grade\u2014and was stunned when the room erupted into applause. Mandell touted the show as a \"network-budgeted, high quality series... designed as the perfect all-family vehicle,\" while Jim reassured reporters that he would continue to perform on _Sesame Street_ and make guest appearances on other shows \"as the opportunities arise.\" Kermit nodded at the end of Jim's arm. \"We'll do anything for money,\" said the frog.\n\nAt last, Jim had the opportunity to pursue his dream; and yet he was concerned that his new obligations\u2014he would have to leave for London to begin production in May 1976\u2014meant letting down Lorne Michaels. Brillstein was prepared to begin the messy formal process of getting Jim out of his contract with NBC, but Jim wanted to discuss the matter with Michaels personally. Michaels\u2014who was already weathering increasingly heated calls from _SNL_ 's writers to dump the Muppets from the show's lineup altogether\u2014could afford to be gracious and magnanimous, releasing Jim from his contract without penalty, even making clear that Jim had complete ownership of the characters he had created for SNL. \"I always figure people stay if they want to stay,\" said Michaels diplomatically. \"[The Muppets] had the opportunity to do their own show. You never stand in the way of somebody.\" Jim\u2014who also knew the Muppets' days on _SNL_ were numbered\u2014was equally magnanimous in his praise of Michaels. \"I really respect Lorne,\" he said later, \"[and] at no time did I ever lose my respect for the show. I always liked what they were doing. We parted on very good terms.\"\n\nWell, mostly. Years later, Jim took great pleasure in displaying a copy of a postcard the Muppet team had sent from London to the cast of _Saturday Night Live_ , pasting it to a piece of paper under block letters asking WHERE ARE THE MUCKING FUPPETS? \"Dear Gang,\" the postcard read, \"We're having a wonderful time here in England. We're doing our own show and it's a big hit.\"\n\nWithin a year, Jim and the Muppets would be the biggest act in England; in less than two years they would take the United States by storm. And before the decade was over, _The Muppet Show_ would be the most popular show in the world.\n\nMucking Fuppets indeed.\n\n# **CHAPTER NINE**\n\n#\n\n# **MUPPETMANIA**  \n1975\u20131977\n\n_The second season (1977\u20131978) cast of performers on_ The Muppet Show. _Clockwise from bottom left: Dave Goelz, Jerry Nelson, Jim, Frank Oz, Richard Hunt, and Louise Gold_. (photo credit 9.1)\n\nIT MAY SEEM EXTRAORDINARY THAT A TELEVISION SERIES FEATURING A gonzo daredevil who eats a tire to \"Flight of the Bumblebee\" would have appealed to a British lord\u2014but Lord Lew Grade was an extraordinary man. Born Louis Winogradsky in Russia in 1906, Grade's family immigrated to London's East End in 1912, where he went to school and spent several years working in his father's constantly struggling embroidery company. In 1926, Grade broke into show business, wowing British vaudeville audiences by frantically dancing the Charleston on narrow tabletops\u2014a stunt worthy of the Great Gonzo himself.\n\nWhen perpetually swollen knees ended his dancing career, Grade became a theatrical agent, landing bookings for A-listers like Judy Garland and Danny Kaye at venues like the Palladium or on British television variety shows. Unlike many agents who had cut their teeth on theater bookings, Grade was quick to embrace the new television medium, and in 1954\u2014the same year seventeen-year-old Jim Henson was first performing with his Muppets on the _Junior Morning Show_ in Washington, D.C.\u2014Grade founded his own TV company, which eventually became the juggernaut, Associated Television, or ATV.\n\nGrade himself was as familiar to British audiences as his booming network, frequently photographed at premieres emerging from his Rolls-Royce Phantom with smoke from one of his enormous cigars curling around his piebald head. A \"British Louis B. Mayer,\" Oz called him, and the comparison was apt\u2014for Grade was not only an old-fashioned showman, but a shrewd businessman as well. In fact, his offer to produce _The Muppet Show_ had both fiscal and artistic benefits. ATV's Elstree studios were sitting largely empty and unused in London, a red mark on ATV's books. So with Jim committed to producing twenty-four episodes at Elstree\u2014and with five CBS stations in the United States already obligated to pick up the series\u2014 _The Muppet Show_ would ensure the lights stayed on at Elstree.\n\nFor Jim, the prospect of picking up and moving to London was no more daunting than the snap decision to move from D.C. to New York had been nearly fifteen years ago. After learning of the deal that would bring _The Muppet Show_ to London, one of Jim's first phone calls was to Jerry Juhl out in California to ask the writer if he would pack up and follow him out to England. Jim couldn't offer Juhl the head writer job\u2014one of the few conditions on which Grade and Mandell had insisted was that Jim hire an experienced television variety show writer as his lead writer. It was a slight that Jim knew would bruise Juhl's feelings, and Jim\u2014always one to avoid hurting feelings as much as he could\u2014had written out a list of sympathetic talking points to use during his phone call. The approach worked, and Juhl, who had dutifully made the move from D.C. to New York with Jim in 1963, promised to join the Muppet team in London in 1976, where he would serve\u2014for a while, grudgingly\u2014under lead writer Jack Burns, an experienced stand-up comic who, along with his partner, Avery Schreiber, was a veteran of perhaps as many variety shows as Jim.\n\nIn early November 1975, Jim began meeting regularly with Burns and Juhl in Los Angeles and New York to go over the dynamics and structure of the show\u2014including nailing down the important but always problematic question of where, exactly, the show would be taking place. As Juhl remembered it, after several days of \"talking around ideas\" they finally settled on a \"show-within-a-show\" format, in which the Muppets would be working each week to put on a vaudeville show in an old theater, with action taking place both onstage and backstage. It was a format, said Juhl, that \"[none] of us were convinced... was gonna work.\"\n\nJim, however, liked it\u2014and with some help from Bernie Brillstein, who set the writers up in an office near the Beverly Wilshire, Burns and Juhl began hammering out scripts for the first few episodes, which Jim was planning to put before the cameras at Elstree in January 1976, only a few short weeks away. In early December, Jim flew to London with Brillstein and David Lazer to look over the facilities at Elstree and prepare a number of offices and workspaces that had been set aside by the studios specifically for Henson Associates\u2014including an area for a fully functional Muppet workshop where puppets could be designed, built, and repaired on site, rather than in the workshop in New York at least a day's flight away. Satisfied, Jim came home for Christmas and a bit of skiing in Vermont. On January 11, 1976, he returned to London to begin work on the first two episodes of _The Muppet Show_.\n\nAlthough Jim had an agreement in place that guaranteed him twenty-four episodes for the first season, much was riding on the first two episodes of the show, which were essentially considered pilots for the new series. While Brillstein had five local CBS stations on the hook to broadcast the series, there was no guarantee the show would be picked up beyond those five. What was needed, then, were one or two strong episodes that either Brillstein or Abe Mandell at ITC could circulate to promote and sell the series. More than anything, the first two episodes were Jim's chance to spot-check his new format, get a feel for several new characters\u2014namely Fozzie Bear, Gonzo, and Scooter\u2014and show his new partners at ATV what he could do.\n\nOne of the first real challenges, however, was finding guest stars. As a syndicated show targeted at the pre-prime-time access hour\u2014and a puppet show at that _\u2014The Muppet Show_ had at the outset what many booking agents likely regarded as two strikes against it. Appearing outside of prime time, their client would already likely have a smaller viewing audience; worse, in syndication\u2014still viewed as the wasteland of television\u2014they might have no audience at all. Further, the pay wasn't great; most of the budget for _The Muppet Show_ was wrapped up in design and production, which didn't leave a lot left over to entice guests. Most would be paid a flat rate of $3,500 for their appearance\u2014\"very, very little money,\" said Lazer.\n\nIt was left largely up to Brillstein to make the pitch and appeal to clients and agents. For the first two shows\u2014and much of the first season, in fact\u2014Brillstein dug into his personal Rolodex and called in a few favors, courting and finally landing dancer Juliet Prowse for the first show and actress Connie Stevens for the second. \"The first... guests were... friends of mine who did favors,\" said Brillstein. \"We couldn't get anyone else.... They did the show for me.\" Taping for both episodes went quickly\u2014each show was filmed in less than a week\u2014and on February 14, Jim returned to the United States to screen the two pilots with Abe Mandell and ITC executives in New York.\n\nThings didn't go well. \"We got a blood bath,\" said Lazer flatly. \"They hated them.\" In Mandell's opinion, the pilots were \"too British\" and exactly what Grade didn't want. \"Grade had told us, 'Don't be British,' \" said Oz, and even Juhl admitted the shows \"were all wrong.\" Most likely, the two episodes were just too talky, with an overly long opening credit sequence that Jim wisely cut down. Regardless, said Lazer, \"Jim was pissed at them!\" Jim stalked out of the screening in silence and started walking with Lazer back toward the Muppet offices when, after only a few blocks, he suddenly started laughing. The tension was broken, and Lazer pulled Jim into the bar at the Drake Hotel where the two commiserated over Bloody Marys at eleven in the morning. \"It's not the end of the world,\" Jim reassuringly told Lazer between sips, and resolved to go back and re-edit the show, and even refilm several Muppet sequences. Jim \"was hurt... his guts are on the screen,\" said Lazer. But Mandell had also picked up on what Lazer thought was a larger problem with the pilots. \"In truth, the characters hadn't gelled then,\" said Lazer. \"Character voices weren't good. And so we went back, rehuddled, and did it again.\"\n\nJim had taken a risk in building _The Muppet Show_ around an entirely new cast of Muppet characters. There was a chance that viewers who knew the Muppets largely through _Sesame Street_ might tune in to _The Muppet Show_ expecting to see familiar faces and, seeing none, would tune out and never come back. Trying to manage such expectations, Jim had brought in Ernie and Bert for an appearance in the second episode, as if to reassure _Sesame Street_ fans that they were peeking into the windows of the right house, even if they didn't recognize most of the other occupants. Jim also put an established character at the head of the show, wisely placing the reliable Kermit the Frog in the eye of the Muppet hurricane.\n\nIf there was a problem with any of the characters in the pilot episodes, however, it was with the one envisioned as Kermit's sidekick: the joke-telling, ear-wiggling, much abused stand-up comic Fozzie Bear. \"We knew we wanted to have a stand up comedian,\" said Jim. \"We had in mind a Red Skelton\u2013type of character that was a bundle of anxieties off stage and a gung ho story teller up front.\" Unfortunately, in the early episodes, \"Fozzie was a disaster,\" said Juhl. \"We said... 'this is a bad comedian,' and so we put him onstage and let him be bad... and it was embarrassing.\" Worse, the razzing Fozzie received at the hands of the curmudgeonly Statler and Waldorf, heckling from the balcony, only made the character seem more pathetic, rather than funnier. \"Fozzie did help make Statler and Waldorf because he was good to heckle,\" said Juhl, \"but what we did to him in those first few shows was terrible. We just humiliated the poor guy.\"\n\nFozzie was intended to be Oz's main character, and the perfectionist Oz was frustrated that he couldn't get a handle on the bear. \"Frank was dying, because he knew it was bad and didn't know what to do with it,\" said Juhl. Jim promised to keep tinkering with the puppet to see if perhaps a change in design might spark something, similar to the way in which the slight change in Big Bird's eyes and plumage had helped Caroll Spinney get a firm hold on that character's core personality. Juhl, meanwhile, blamed himself and the writing team for the character's rough start. Writing scripts in California for a show produced in London, said Juhl, was like \"working in a vacuum. There was no interplay with the performers, there was no sense of fun and excitement.... Jim and I knew there was a possibility that we would just start over again in London.\" For Juhl, that interaction with the Muppet performers was crucial to the creative process. Once he was on the ground in London, watching rehearsals and working among the performers, Juhl thought he might finally \"find that bear as a character.\"\n\nIn the meantime, he and Burns would keep producing scripts and sketches as quickly as they could, in the hope that once the Muppet team relocated to London in May to begin producing shows in earnest, there would be enough material available to produce one show per week. Until then, Jim still had plenty to do that spring, taping inserts for _Sesame Street_ , traveling with the family to Hawaii and Japan, and making a few more appearances on _Saturday Night Live_. Jim convinced _SNL_ 's writers to let him script one of the Muppets' final appearances on the show, turning in a clever, and uncredited, script in which the Muppets finally realize they're puppets and pack themselves away in a trunk\u2014a nice bit of closure for _SNL_ 's problematic puppets.\n\nJim left for England on May 5, 1976, taking his time by traveling on the ocean liner _Queen Elizabeth 2_ with Jane, Jack Burns, and several Muppet performers. London would be Jim's home for six months of the year now, so he had made arrangements to move into a flat in Harley Gardens, in the fashionable Kensington district. Jane would remain with Jim in London for only a few weeks, helping him settle in and decorate his flat before returning to New York. The Muppet performers, meanwhile, were scattered around central London in hotels or flats that Jim had helped them find and, in some cases, had negotiated an affordable rent. Each year, in fact, Jim would send each Muppet performer a brief questionnaire, asking where in London they wanted to live and what kind of accommodations they needed (most asked for a \"real shower\"), and would then make the appropriate arrangements. \"[Jim was] accused of spoiling everyone,\" laughed Lazer.\n\nNot that any of them were going to be spending much time in their flats anyway. During each season of _The Muppet Show_ 's five-year run, Jim would produce one show each week for twelve weeks\u2014usually from early May until late July or August\u2014then, after a brief break, shoot the remaining twelve episodes of the season from September through November. Such a schedule meant that on almost any given day, the Muppet team could be working on at least three shows at one time\u2014filming the current episode, doing editing and postproduction on the previous week's show, and writing and building sets for upcoming episodes.\n\nFortunately, Grade was committed to providing Jim with everything he needed to produce _The Muppet Show_ without ever having to set foot outside of ATV's Elstree studio complex. In fact, the facilities at Elstree were some of the best in the United Kingdom\u2014fifteen acres of stages, editing rooms, warehouses, and offices, all professionally laid out, splendidly equipped, and superbly maintained solely for television production. At the center of the compound were four massive studios, and Jim and the Muppets had been assigned Studio D, perhaps the best of the four. It was immediately adjacent to an editing area and the closest to Elstree's main office building, an L-shaped, six-story, glass-fronted structure called the Neptune House, a tip of the hat to Neptune Studios, which had constructed the first film studio at Elstree back in 1914. Grade had set aside part of the third floor of the Neptune House for Henson Associates, giving Jim a place to set up offices for himself and Lazer, as well as conference areas and rooms for Juhl and the writing team\u2014\"The Muppet Suite,\" as Jim would call it.\n\nFor most of the 1960s, the cavernous Studio D at Elstree had been the home to the popular _Morecambe and Wise_ variety show, filmed in front of a live studio audience of about 350 people, sitting in a raised, auditorium-like seating area along one wall. Normally, the spacious rooms under the seats were used for storing large equipment\u2014but Jim had other plans for the space, and cleared them out to make room for a Muppet workshop, just steps away from the studio floor. \"We were setting up with this room that had nothing in it but a bunch of black cases that we brought over,\" said Bonnie Erickson, who had been assigned by Jim the task of setting up and overseeing the Elstree workshop. Erickson had converted the cramped but cozy space into a veritable Muppet factory, pushing in workbenches and tables and lining the walls with makeshift metal shelves sagging under the weight of boxes filled with costumes, fur, feathers, and eyes. Here Muppets could be quickly built, repaired, clothed, or modified without the need for materials from New York or even the costume or prop shop at Elstree. \"We prided ourselves on the fact that nobody from the set shop or from the costuming took any time away from the shooting schedule, because we knew how valuable that time was,\" said Erickson.\n\nTime was indeed a precious commodity, for Jim and the Muppet team were working at a breakneck pace. A typical work week began at 10:00 A.M. on Sunday, when the Muppet team\u2014writers, performers, builders, and musicians\u2014would gather in Elstree's Rehearsal Room 7\/8 on the fourth floor of the Neptune House for the first read-through of the script with the guest star. It was Jim's policy that guest stars would be treated well, and therefore it only made sense that they be placed in the care of the suave, smooth-talking Lazer, who made sure guests were ferried around London in style\u2014often in Lew Grade's own limousine\u2014and stayed in first-rate hotels. Especially in that critical first season, when Jim felt the guest stars were \"slightly sticking their necks out\" working on an untested show for not much money, he wanted as few surprises for them as possible. For that reason, Lazer would often go to the guest's hotel the night before the read-through to personally deliver the script and address any questions or concerns.\n\nAt the read-through, the crew sat facing each other at long Formica-topped tables pushed into a loose rectangle, reading the script aloud and in character, with Burns or Juhl reading out the scripted stage directions. Folding himself into one of the rehearsal room's hard plastic shell chairs, Jim would scribble notes on his script as he read aloud his parts\u2014sliding easily into the characters of Kermit or Dr. Teeth or the Muppet Newsman\u2014and noting where additional puppets might be needed to fill in a crowd scene, or where an ad-libbed line worked better. Juhl, long used to watching Jim and Oz \"talk around\" a _Sesame Street_ script, actively encouraged ad-libbing among the Muppet performers, as he thought such spontaneity gave him additional insights into the characters that made them that much more interesting to write. \"Let's leave that in,\" Juhl would say excitedly as he scratched out the old line in his script and replaced it with the ad-lib.\n\nOnce the read-through was finished, the performers and musicians would head for what they called \"The Music Hall,\" which was actually just the far end of the rehearsal room where a Bosendorfer piano, painted battleship gray, squatted among a scattering of chairs. Here they would rehearse any songs for the coming week, enthusiastically performing their own routines or practicing harmonies as they backed up the guest star. While Jim could barely read treble clef and only tinkle at the piano\u2014and often joked that he could barely sing\u2014his passion more than made up for his lack of technique. During rehearsals, Jim would always sing with gusto, gleefully announcing a key change by calling out \" _Modulate!_ \"\u2014a habit that so amused Frank Oz that he would incorporate it into the personality of the unconventional Muppet musician Marvin Suggs.\n\nMusic would be an important part of _The Muppet Show_ , and Jim chose the songs to be performed on the show with the same relish with which he had once chosen records for _Sam and Friends_. Each week he would sort eagerly through Tin Pan Alley sheet music and old songbooks\u2014including old favorites _Songs of the Pogo_ and A. A. Milne's _Pooh Song Book_ \u2014as well as scouring the current Top 40 charts for songs with unusual or catchy hooks. Consequently, _The Muppet Show_ 's first season alone featured an impressive array of songs reflecting Jim's quirky musical sensibilities, rolling through traditional tunes like the vaudeville-era \"You and I and George,\" A. A. Milne's rollicking \"Cottleston Pie,\" Latham and Jaffe's novelty tune \"I'm My Own Grandpa,\" and Gilbert and Sullivan's \"Tit Willow\" (a selection that prompted a confused Sam the Eagle to ask, \"Is it cultural?\").\n\nWhen it came to popular music, Jim's personal tastes had mellowed slightly with time; while he may have looked like he would be right at home lounging in a beanbag chair listening to 1970s stadium rock through oversized headphones, he actually preferred so-called adult contemporary artists like Jim Croce, James Taylor, and Billy Joel. Still, even when selecting songs from the mellower side of the Top 40, Jim could make some surprising choices, pulling deep cuts and obscure B-sides rather than the more familiar chart toppers. After listening to Barry Manilow's 1976 album _This One's for You_ , for example, Jim opted to use \"Jump Shout Boogie\" for _The Muppet Show_ rather than any of the album's four Top 40 hits.\n\nAfter Music Hall and a break for lunch, rehearsal and blocking would take up the rest of the day\u2014but Jim was always in and out of the rehearsal room, huddling with the writing team during lunch in the canteen, running over to the editing room to check on the progress of last week's episode, or in the Muppet workshop consulting on costuming needs. \"[Jim] worked the hardest of anybody,\" said Lazer. \"He was in the writers' meetings, he was in the performers' meetings, in the scenery meetings. He was in every possible meeting, constantly.\" By the time the lights went out at Elstree at 7:00 P.M. on Sunday night, the Muppet team had been at work for nine hours. And that, said Juhl, was \"a light day.\"\n\nOn Monday began what the Muppet crew affectionately termed \"Band Day,\" which started in the morning with the ATV studio musicians\u2014conducted by Jack Parnell, a former big band drummer and bandleader who had served as ATV's musical director for twenty years\u2014recording the music for that week's songs. During these sessions, the band would also record several isolated music tracks\u2014just drums or bass or piano or sax\u2014that each puppeteer who performed a musician would be given to listen to on their own. This way Jerry Nelson and Richard Hunt, for example, could familiarize themselves with the bass or the lead guitar solos so they could make their performances that much more convincing. Jim, for one, took great pride in his ability to make Rowlf or Dr. Teeth convincingly play the piano, listening to their performances on the tape deck in his car on his way into Elstree each morning. \"I'm really enjoying it,\" he reported. \"I haven't played piano for years.\"\n\nOnce the band had completed its work, the Muppet performers would gather in the main band room to begin recording their vocals. While all dialogue on the show would be performed live during the taping of the show, the songs would almost always be recorded in advance to ensure the song would sound the same\u2014and the Muppet performers' voices would remain intact\u2014over multiple takes. Recording sessions could last anywhere from an hour to half a day\u2014but Jim used much of the day to meet with Burns, Juhl, and the rest of the writing team to review scripts and talk through ideas for upcoming episodes.\n\nThe Muppet writers each had different strengths and writing styles that would shape both the show and the characters\u2014sometimes through trial and error\u2014as the show progressed from year to year. Writer Don Hinkley had a knack for puns and verbal wordplay\u2014and was, in the minds of many, the funniest guy in the room\u2014while quick-writing Mark London, a veteran of _Laugh-In_ , was a workhorse who wrote straight-ahead comedy routines, like the soap opera spoof \"Veterinarian's Hospital.\" Head writer Jack Burns understood how to put together a show, though he tended to think of episodes as a series of roughly strung together vignettes, with no underlying story gluing the episode together. Instead, regular routines like \"Veterinarian's Hospital\" or \"At the Dance,\" in which couples waltzed past the camera and told jokes, were mostly just pushed together, giving the shows a rhythm, but no cohesion. That would change in the second season, with the removal of Burns and the promotion of Juhl to head writer. Juhl's first order of business: \"We phased out that ballroom dancing thing,\" said Juhl, \"partly because everybody hated to write for it, and everybody hated to perform it... it was boring kind of writing. Pointless one-liners. No character and no motivation of any kind.\"\n\nFor Juhl, the former Muppet performer, it was character and motivation that mattered more than puns or vaudeville-style jokes\u2014a predilection Jim and the puppeteers appreciated. \"What he always seemed to do best was to watch... us develop our characters and then write along those lines,\" said Hunt. In the writing room, however, Jim was adamant that \"these puppets are not just characters up there telling jokes. If you just stand there and tell jokes,\" he continued, \"the whole thing will die. The humor only holds if there's visual interaction between the characters.\"\n\nThat visual interaction, however, was sometimes difficult for Jim to articulate. \"How the characters play a particular moment on a punch line is very visual,\" Jim would insist. \"The whole concept of the comedy take is totally visual. Even deadpan comedians are very visual.\" And yet, Jim couldn't always explain exactly what he meant by _visual_. Jim knew when sketches or jokes worked\u2014and when they didn't, he usually knew why\u2014but expressing his views in the writers' room could often be excruciating for everyone involved. \"He would drive [the writers] crazy,\" said Juhl, \"because he would know that what was on the page wasn't what he wanted. But he couldn't quite _know_ what he wanted\u2014or if he did know what he wanted, he wouldn't quite know how to tell you.\" And so writers' meetings could stretch on, sometimes for hours, with bursts of enthusiastic conversation followed by long periods of silence as Jim tried to come up with just the right way to describe what he was looking for.\n\nOften, the biggest source of disagreement was over what Juhl called \"the implied joke,\" in which a joke is set up on-screen, \"and then the punch line happens off camera... somebody walks out and you hear the whole thing collapse.\" Jim thought that was throwing away a perfectly good punch line. \"We can show that!\" he would insist, appealing to the writers with his huge hands spread outward\u2014and then he and the writing team would go around and around again. \"There would be fairly heated arguments,\" said Juhl. \"We would try to make the case that actually _not_ seeing it would be funnier. And he _hated_ that argument. He could see the logic in it, but he didn't want to give in to it.\" Jim would only slouch lower in his chair and _hmmmm;_ an implied joke, he thought, was not only a waste of a joke, but a waste of the puppets themselves. \"Most TV humor is verbal. Somebody says something to somebody and somebody else replies,\" he explained. \"But with puppets, you do a funny kind of character, and that's the joke. That's where the humor arises. Often, the best pieces don't look like _anything_ on paper.\"\n\nNow that they were all working together in London, Jim and Juhl, as promised, had slowly but surely helped Oz get a better handle on Fozzie Bear. Jim had directed the Muppet builders to modify the puppet, slightly changing Fozzie's color to a brighter orange, removing the unreliable mechanism that wiggled Fozzie's ears, and remodeling the mouth to get rid of the downturned corners that gave the early version of the character a perpetual grimace. From a writing perspective, said Juhl, the real trick was to take \"Fozzie's ineptness... [and] make that entertaining and wonderful.\" Oz, too, was beginning to change the way he performed the character, and at Jim's urging had somewhat modified the voice, sliding up to a slightly higher register and a more excited delivery. Oz had also decided that Fozzie, rather than being a victim, was just \"a simple guy who wants to be funny and loved.\"\n\nYet, Fozzie continued to struggle as the fall guy\u2014until the character suddenly and wonderfully fell into place. In a sketch worthy of Abbott and Costello, Fozzie asks Kermit for help in telling a joke, convincing the frog to act as his straight man. \"When you hear me say the word _'hear,_ ' \" Fozzie tells Kermit carefully, \"you will rush up to me and say, 'Good grief! The comedian's a bear!' \" Kermit agrees\u2014and over the next ninety seconds, Fozzie's best-laid plans come quickly unraveled:\n\nFOZZIE: Okay, here we go... ready?... ( _faces audience_ ) Now then: Hiya hiya hiya! You're a wonderful looking audience, it's a pleasure to be here. I\u2014\n\nKERMIT ( _rushing in_ ): Good grief! The comedian's a bear!\n\nFOZZIE: Not yet!\n\nKERMIT: But you just said \"here\"...\n\nFOZZIE: That was the wrong \"hear\"!\n\nKERMIT: Which is the right \"hear\"?\n\nFOZZIE: The _other_ \"hear\"! Go, go... ( _pushing Kermit offstage_ ) Okay\u2014hey hey folks! This is a story you guys'll _love_ to hear....\n\nKERMIT ( _rushing in_ ): Good grief! The comedian's a bear!\n\nFOZZIE: Will you stop that?!?\n\nKERMIT: But you said \"hear\"!\n\nFOZZIE: Not _that_ \"hear\"!\n\nKERMIT: Well which \"hear\"?\n\nFOZZIE: _Another_ \"hear\"!\n\nKERMIT: How am I gonna know?!?\n\nFOZZIE: You'll know when you hear!\n\nKERMIT: Good grief! The comedian's a bear!\n\nAnd so on, at which point the punch line\u2014\"No he's-a not! He's-a wearin' a necka tie!\"\u2014is nearly beside the point. While it was a defining moment for the character, it very nearly didn't make it before the cameras. It had been written quickly\u2014\"We sent the material down on the floor just a few minutes before they were gonna tape it,\" recalled Juhl\u2014and taped toward the end of the day when Jim and Oz had little time to rehearse. After reading through it once, Jim and Oz put Kermit and Fozzie on their arms, and completed the complicated sketch in one remarkable take. \"They just played the hell out of it,\" said Juhl admiringly, \"and suddenly Fozzie was _wonderful_. I remember that moment and saying, 'Now _there's_ a character there!' \"\n\nIt was indeed a wonderful moment\u2014but it wouldn't have worked without Kermit, played by Jim at his most delightfully and arm-wavingly frantic, frazzled, and frustrated. Many television critics, writing of Kermit during that pivotal first season, thought Kermit was already one of Hollywood's great straight men\u2014\"funny not because of what he does,\" wrote one reviewer, \"but because of what others do around him, and because of the aplomb with which he bears their doings.\" That was true to some extent, but Kermit was more than a mere straight man; he was the sun around which the entire Muppet solar system revolved. \"He relates to the other characters on many different levels,\" said Juhl. \"More important, they _have_ to relate to him. Without Kermit, they don't work. Nothing could happen without him. The other characters do not have what it takes to hold things together.\"\n\nThe same could be said of Jim, although Jim was always wary of letting the press view him and Kermit interchangeably. \"There's a bit of me in Kermit,\" Jim conceded. \"Kermit's the organizer, always desperately trying to keep things going while surrounded by all these crazy nuts,\" he explained to London's _TV Times_. \"I suppose he is not unlike me and it's not unlike the way the place operates around here.\" Mostly, Jim saw both himself and Kermit as the steady eye of the _Muppet Show_ hurricane, the center around which the storm wildly raged and revolved\u2014though steady didn't necessarily mean _staid_. \"Me not crazy?\" Kermit once exclaimed. \"I hired the others!\" Jim, too, often saw himself as the ringleader of a group whose members unapologetically referred to themselves as \"a bunch of goddamn lunatics!\"\n\nTo Jim, _The Muppet Show_ would always be his version of Walt Kelly's _Pogo_ , with the mostly patient Kermit anchoring an eclectic cast of misfits. But even those unacquainted with Kelly's world could immediately grasp the formula Jim had put to work. \"It's _The Mary Tyler Moore Show_ ,\" said _Sesame Street_ 's Jon Stone. \"It's the central, neutral type figure trying to bring order out of chaos.... It was a pretty good formula.\" Such a formula, then, usually included a love interest for the main character, and _The Muppet Show_ was no exception\u2014though as the show was originally envisioned, it wasn't supposed to be that way.\n\nThe rise of Miss Piggy from nameless background dancing girl to full-fledged movie star is a story straight out of Hollywood legend\u2014except it actually happened. Piggy had made her first appearance as a nameless character on _The Herb Alpert Show_ , then showed up as an incidental character in the _Sex and Violence_ pilot, one of several beady-eyed pigs who appeared in the \"Return to Beneath the Planet of the Pigs\" sketch (Bonnie Erickson, who designed the first Piggy, had jokingly named her \"Miss Piggy Lee\" as an homage to singer Peggy Lee). For the first episodes of _The Muppet Show_ , the puppet was slightly redesigned and given larger eyes\u2014she would be one of the few Muppets with full-color irises\u2014and sent to the chorus line, where she danced during the opening credits and appeared in a few sketches. She was considered such a minor character, in fact, that for much of the first season she didn't even have a regular performer assigned to her, and was passed back and forth between Frank Oz and Richard Hunt with little concern about consistency in voice or mannerisms.\n\nEven as the puppet was being passed around, however, there were glimpses of the character in the making. \"Sometimes a character will start from something we write, and someone will do something very funny with it,\" said Juhl. \"Or sometimes the guys just start ad-libbing something and it starts with them.\" In Miss Piggy's case, it was a bit of both, as Frank Oz took a simple stage direction written on the page and ad-libbed it into a memorable, almost iconic, moment. \"I was working as Miss Piggy with Jim, who was doing Kermit, and the script called for her to slap him,\" said Oz. \"Instead of a slap, I gave him a funny karate hit. Somehow, that hit crystallized her character for me\u2014the coyness hiding the aggression.\" That karate chop, agreed Juhl, made all the difference. \"The place fell apart. It was like just instantly you knew that you gotta see this again.\"\n\nPiggy would continue to be traded between Oz and Hunt for a while longer, but gradually she became Oz's character alone. \"Miss Piggy was to have been a minor character,\" noted Jim, \"but Frank Oz gave her such a strong personality that she immediately became one of the principals.\" That also meant that Fozzie, who was originally intended as Oz's main character, was relegated to the supporting cast as Piggy became his primary character, in the same way that Rowlf couldn't share as much screen time with Kermit, since Jim performed both puppets. \"Rowlf could have been one of the stars of the show if only we could have had him interacting on a regular basis with Kermit and Piggy,\" said Juhl. \"But from a practical point of view, it just wasn't possible.\" (\"Poor Rowlf,\" Jane said with a sigh.)\n\nOz quickly became immersed in Piggy and her personality. \"She takes over,\" Oz told reporters. \"She has become so real to me. In fact, when I talk about her my voice changes and I move my vocal gears and become her, using her voice and even adopting her personality.\" (\"But let's get it straight that I'm _straight_!\" Oz told one London gossip columnist with just a hint of exasperation.) While watching the six-foot-two Oz perform as a female character was second nature to the Muppet performers, for some _Muppet Show_ guests, it took some getting used to. During the first table read-through with British comedian Spike Milligan, when Oz began speaking in Piggy's voice, Milligan stood up, pointed incredulously at Oz, and exclaimed, \"It's a man?!?\"\n\nWriting for Piggy, said Juhl, was \"real, real tough.\" \"The whole _Muppet Show_ conceit is based on this concept of family,\" Juhl explained. \"Piggy stands aside from all of that. Piggy demands things that are quite outside of the family.... You're walking a fine line with that character. If she isn't a bitch, she isn't funny. But you've got to feel the other side.\" Oz, though, was confident he could play her just right, and had crafted an elaborate backstory (\"She grew up on a small farm; her father died in a tractor accident, her mother wasn't that nice to her...\") to help him better understand, and therefore better perform, the character\u2014including her love for Kermit, setting up one of Hollywood's great one-sided love affairs. \"She's sensuous and she's been hurt a lot,\" said Oz. \"She loves the frog\u2014my God how she covets that little green body!\u2014but the frog doesn't love her.\"\n\nRichard Hunt had no patience for crafting those kinds of elaborate background stories for his characters, calling it \"endless [and] fairly pointless.\" Hunt didn't immerse himself in characters; Hunt _played_ them, taking great relish in putting on voices and performing in broad gestures, the same way children delight in putting on a neighborhood circus. That wasn't to say that Hunt couldn't find parts of himself in his characters. Hunt's main character, the eager-to-please Scooter, wasn't all that different from Hunt. \"He was this little, little kid,\" said Hunt of Scooter, \"and that was me when I first walked in.\" Scooter's moderate pestering of Kermit and others wasn't that far removed from Hunt, either. \"I was a pain in the ass!\" said Hunt, though Jim would generally allow Hunt to hover and chatter over his shoulder for a while before finally saying in mock frustration, \"Richard, shut up and go away!\"\n\n_The Muppet Show_ 's other major character, the enigmatic Gonzo the Great, was assigned to Dave Goelz, who was still doing his best to resist Jim's efforts to remove him permanently from the Muppet workshop to become a full-time performer. \"I was so upset when Jim took him to be a puppeteer!\" said Bonnie Erickson, who needed in the workshop every skilled hand she could get. \"He was really so talented.\" Despite Jim's confidence in him, Goelz was still unconvinced he had what it took to be a performer. \"I was very insecure, because I really had no business being in the entertainment industry,\" said Goelz. \"I had no training of any kind, except two little sessions with Jim and Frank, so I felt very unqualified.\" But as Jim seemed to inherently understand\u2014even if Goelz didn't\u2014that was just the sort of perspective necessary to create the character. \"Gonzo believes he is a worthless creature,\" said Goelz. \"He knows and believes it, but he wants to prove he has worth.\" So did Goelz.\n\nAs originally written by Juhl, Gonzo was \"a loser who did these horrible acts and thought they were great art.\" Jim had selected almost at random the sad-eyed, bent-nosed Cigar Box Frackle from _The Great Santa Claus Switch_ , retrieving the character from a box in New York and telling Goelz, \"This could be Gonzo.\" For the first season, then, Goelz played Gonzo as \"this little dark frightened character,\" but remained frustrated with his own performance, which he thought was boring even to the Elstree crew. \"They loved watching Jim and Frank work,\" said Goelz. \"When I came onstage, I could hear the newspapers come up.\"\n\nThat would change late in the first season when a simple \"No!\" from Gonzo helped Goelz find himself\u2014and thus the character. At first, the insecure Goelz would only feebly croak out \" _no,_ \" and \"Jim kept saying, 'Well, do it again. Make it big!'... And I couldn't do it,\" said Goelz. \"We did take after take after take, and Jim was so patient. I finally just went, _'Nnnnoooo!'_ And I could hear the newspapers all come down.... I got a laugh from the crew.\" Gonzo\u2014and Goelz\u2014had finally gotten excited about something\u2014and \"when you got excited,\" discovered Goelz, \"it was good.\"\n\nWith a new enthusiasm, Goelz rebuilt Gonzo to remove his permanently sad eyes and replaced them with an eye mechanism that allowed the character to open his eyes for a wider range of emotion. Now, said Goelz, \"Gonzo can still get very, very depressed, but he has moments of high, intense excitement.\" Jim's faith in Goelz, and Gonzo, had paid off. \"As _I_ got confidence, _he_ got confidence,\" said Goelz of Gonzo. And both would regularly get laughs from the Elstree crew.\n\nRounding out the top tier of the Muppet performers was Jerry Nelson, who had taken a leave of absence during _The Muppet Show_ 's first season to spend some additional time with his teenage daughter and was unable to commit to a full season. Consequently, Nelson was not assigned any of _The Muppet Show_ 's central characters\u2014a necessary but inadvertent slight that would later cause some hard feelings. Instead, Nelson would become the team's invaluable utility player, making even minor or one-note characters, like Lew Zealand, Crazy Harry, or Uncle Deadly, memorable, while his gravelly singing voice would establish the Electric Mayhem's bass player Floyd as the epitome of Muppet cool. Nelson's performance mentality was halfway between Oz's and Hunt's; each character, explained Nelson, \"is an aspect of my own personality. The Muppets are roles I assume, rather than puppets I manipulate.\"\n\nPerforming and filming the Muppet segments would begin in earnest on Tuesdays. On that day, the Muppet team would spend the entire day taping the sketches featuring that week's guest star, then continue on with Muppet-only segments on Wednesday and Thursday. Spending all day Tuesday with the star could be \"really tough\" though it depended largely on the guest star. Fifth season guest Tony Randall would be one of the few problematic guests, micromanaging Muppet performances and growing increasingly pushy as the filming progressed. \"Some [guests] relate to us more easily than others,\" Jim explained earnestly to _The Christian Science Monitor_. \"A person who is cool personally can play marvelously well with the Muppets.\"\n\nWorking with the Muppets, said Jim, was an opportunity for guests \"to work in a sort of fun land, a Never-Never Land,\" where the atmosphere was laid-back, a sense of humor was mandatory, and the dress code was casual. In the first few years of _The Muppet Show_ , before he began wearing stylish sweaters or tucking colorful scarves around his neck, Jim was at nearly his shaggiest, his long hair falling against his denim collar and his beard a bushy bib that he absent-mindedly stroked while _hmmmm_ ing his way through a problem. Lazer, in his impeccably tailored Jaeger suits, then, was there to provide a dose of showbiz conventionality. \"Although he never told people what to wear... some part of [Jim] liked that I was wearing a tie and jacket,\" said Lazer. \"We had all these major stars coming in, and they needed to zero in on one person who was familiar... because they were coming into a strange world!\"\n\nAnd yet, it was Jim who the guests couldn't stop watching. \"The women stars fell in love with Jim,\" said Lazer, \"[and the] male stars couldn't stop talking about him.\" Guests wanted nothing more than to please Jim\u2014to make him laugh or to see him enthusiastically raise his eyebrows in approval of their performance. But Jim related particularly well with his female costars, who were drawn not only to his talent but responded strongly to his charisma and inherent Southern-bred sweetness. \"They clicked with him,\" said Lazer. \"In the beginning they weren't sure. And then as soon as they watched him in operation... he was in such control, and so gentle... and he would direct them, and they would just listen to anything he said. They trusted him.\" When first-season guest Ethel Merman struggled slightly with a feathery costume during a complicated sketch, Lazer approached the singer between takes to offer his assistance. Merman shooed him away. \"Listen,\" she said, \"you tell that Jim Henson that if he wants me to wear a feather up my ass, I'll do it for him!\"\n\nFollowing the taping of the show, Jim would take each guest, along with much of the Muppet crew, out for dinner. Lazer called them \"wrap parties,\" though they were usually just large dinner parties with copious amounts of wine\u2014and Jim joked that he only knew enough about wine to order exactly one kind of red and one kind of white. Even after their appearance on the show, no guest would ever be truly forgotten; Lazer kept a running list of the home addresses and birthdays of all his guest stars, and after the publication of a book about the making of _The Muppet Show_ , Jim went out of his way to ensure that every guest received a copy. \"I've heard stories about other shows that thrive on the tension that exists between the stars, or between the star and the producers, but that wouldn't work for us,\" said Jim. \"If we didn't manage to maintain a friendly atmosphere, we'd be in deep trouble.\" As Lazer put it: \"Unless our guests go home telling everyone that they had a great time doing _The Muppet Show_ , then I haven't done my job.\"\n\nWhile Brillstein had called in favors to secure guests during the early part of _The Muppet Show_ 's first season, \"as the show kept gaining in popularity,\" said the agent, \"we had a waiting list.\" The success of the first fifteen shows in particular\u2014featuring a wide range of talents such as Peter Ustinov, Rita Moreno, Joel Grey, and Lena Horne\u2014went a long way toward sealing _The Muppet Show_ 's reputation as a hip hit. \"The calls started coming in,\" said Lazer. Not only was the show a success, but word had spread quickly that \"we took such good care of the stars... we gave them a chance to do what they wanted to do. If they ever wanted to sing, we'd give them a chance to sing. Or be a comedienne if they were straight, or whatever.\" Only on _The Muppet Show_ could Sylvester Stallone sing and dance with a lion or Beverly Sills hang a spoon from the end of her nose\u2014and bring in big ratings to boot.\n\nEven Lord Grade was impressed. \"The atmosphere and excitement during the making of these shows was electric, and in a very short while we had international celebrities clamoring to do the guest spot,\" recalled Grade. Grade even loved dropping by the set every once in a while to watch the Muppet team at work, strolling the studio and casually asking, \"Everything all right, boys?\"\n\nMost sets for _The Muppet Show_ were \"platformed up,\" elevated about four feet off the ground on stilts, with plenty of low walls, boxes, stairs, or doorways for the performers to poke puppets into. Most of the budget for _The Muppet Show_ , in fact, went into sets, which had to be carefully designed and constructed so that the Muppets could interact seamlessly with the human guest star. Doors and stairs for the Muppet theater's backstage set, for example, had to be built at a scale small enough for Muppets, but not _too_ small or the guest stars couldn't use them. And since most sets were mainly just backdrops and low walls for the puppeteers to poke puppets between, movable platforms had to be built for the guest stars to stand on during any scenes in which they had to interact with the Muppets.\n\nDown on floor level, things were perhaps even more hectic. As they performed, puppeteers had to step over cables snaking across the floor, and around the struts elevating the sets over their heads. Sketches that involved cars or motorcycles or any moving vehicle required another group of performers to push the vehicle, elevated on a raised platform, across the studio floor while the puppeteers walked along behind it performing\u2014and \"everybody,\" directed Jim, \"has to see a monitor.\" At almost all times, all eyes were on one of the countless monitors placed strategically around the floor of the studio, so it was always possible to see how the puppets looked on camera, no matter which way the performers were facing.\n\nAmid the chaos in Studio D, Jim was calm, cool, and clearly in charge, mapping out shots with cameramen, consulting with the writers over script changes, or huddling with _Muppet Show_ directors Peter Harris and Philip Casson, who alternated directing duties from week to week. Unlike Jon Stone, who preferred directing the _Sesame Street_ Muppets down on the main floor in the thick of things, Harris and Casson were more comfortable directing from the glassed-in booth overlooking the studio floor, patiently broadcasting instructions over the studio's squawky sound system, or calling down directions for floor managers Richard Holloway or Martin Baker to convey to the crew. Jim had initially wanted to direct _The Muppet Show_ himself, but discovered that trying to direct while performing the show's central character only slowed things down. Instead, said Jim, \"I settle for a set of headphones so I can make a suggestion once in a while,\" communicating directly with Harris and Casson through a headset with a microphone covered with green foam carved to look like Kermit.\n\nWhile the bulk of the responsibility for keeping things running smoothly fell largely to Jim, he never made it look like work. \"Everything was play for him,\" said Juhl. \"Work was play. That was the thing that we all plainly understood.\" Agreed Oz, \"Jim wasn't a workaholic. Our job was playing.\" For Jim that meant encouraging the team\u2014from the Muppet performers to the lighting crew\u2014to ad-lib or interject ideas, and maintaining an overall atmosphere of collegiality in which everyone's performance and opinion was valued. \"We know each other so well that we can kind of bounce off each other when we're working together,\" explained Jim. \"This working relationship... has a kind of marvelous chemistry to it, and I think it's terribly important that when we're working in the studio, we work with this kind of affection and high spirits.\"\n\nAnd spirits were high indeed. The Muppet performers would constantly joke and banter without ever breaking character, their puppets jabbering at each other with eyebrows waggling and arms waving. \"Even when they're not shooting, they keep talking [in character],\" said impressionist Rich Little, a second season guest. \"It's incredible.... After a few minutes at the studio... the Muppets become real.\" Even those who worked with the Muppets daily found it a bit disorienting. Watching the performance from the booth, director Peter Harris would notice Jim's head in a shot and would call out, \"Sorry, Jim, we have to go again\"\u2014and Kermit, rather than Jim, would turn to the camera and respond. \"In the end you just talk to Kermit,\" said Harris. \"It's a very weird experience.\"\n\nOther times, Oz and Goelz would grab the struts elevating the Muppet sets and send themselves racing across the studio floor in rolling chairs, cheered on by cameramen and Muppets alike. Jerry Nelson would sprawl in the theater seats over the Muppet workshop and strum a guitar, one eye on the monitor, waiting to be called in to perform. Richard Hunt, the always willing master of ceremonies, was in everybody's face\u2014and no one, not even the guest star, was off-limits. \"If he was driving to work and he passed the limo with the guest in it, he would roll down the window and... just yell and go crazy,\" said Goelz fondly. \"All the guests who went away from the show remembered Jim and Frank and Richard Hunt\u2014and that was because Richard's personality was so big.\"\n\nBut the best moments, as nearly everyone agreed, were when Jim laughed. \"He laughed until he cried,\" said Oz. \"It didn't matter if we were taping or prerecording for a TV show or a record, we would just end up cracking each other up. He had to wrangle us, yes, but other times he was the instigator.\" More often than not, it was performing with Oz that got Jim laughing the hardest, the two of them collapsing in fits of laughter as they performed Kermit and Fozzie\u2014or Kermit and Miss Piggy\u2014and tried desperately not to break character.\n\n\"Frank and Jim were incredible at getting the play started,\" said Lazer. \"The combination of Jim and Frank was just magical,\" added Goelz. \"Jim had this light playful side, and Frank had the underpinnings, the drama, the backstory, the depth of character\u2014and the two just meshed perfectly.\" For Richard Hunt, it was like watching \"the 70s and 80s Laurel and Hardy.... It was hysterical.\"\n\nAnd yet, when Oz wasn't performing, he was \"this very intimidating figure,\" said Brian Henson. \"He really was kind of like Sam the Eagle\u2014he was dark and brooding and if Frank was coming down the hall, you got out of the way!\" Juhl remembered Oz as \"incredibly moody\" during those years. \"Frank has this incredible thing,\" said Juhl. \"He is quite clearly the best puppeteer in the world, and he fights it.\" Discussing Oz's moodiness with Juhl, Jim would merely shake his head in genuine pity. \"That's just such a shame, you know,\" he told Juhl. \"Everything is happening right now, this is just an incredibly exciting time in our lives.... I wish Frank could enjoy it.\"\n\nThe highlight of the week\u2014indeed, the one time when it was certain that every member of the Muppet team and the ATV crew would be watching\u2014was the moment Jim and Oz, usually performing as Kermit and Fozzie, stepped in front of _The Muppet Show_ 's trademark red curtain to film two short promotional spots for the week's episode. There were no scripts for these ten- to twenty-second segments; the name of the game was to improvise the piece, with Oz doing his best to surprise and provoke a response from Jim\u2014or, better yet, make him laugh. It was thrilling, said Hunt admiringly, \"the way they could second-guess each other.... They would laugh so much that they would end up crying.... It got to a point where they couldn't really talk, but they were still going.... Frank was capable of reducing Jim to giggles, and vice versa.\"\n\nEven the very proper English crew at ATV grew to love working for Jim and with the Muppets\u2014especially after Jim came to understand and appreciate the quirks of working with a British crew. Tea time was strictly observed\u2014a tradition Jim found charming and willingly embraced. The canteen at Elstree was also equipped with a fully stocked bar, where some of the British crew would polish off one or two shandies during lunch before returning to the studio floor in what one insider diplomatically described as a \"more relaxed\" state. It was a custom Jim neither questioned nor complained about, as long as the work got done.\n\nIf there was anything distinctly British that would plague Jim during his five years at Elstree, however, it was the British union's strict requirement that the studio lights at Elstree be turned off at exactly 8:00 P.M. Unlike American or Canadian studios, where filming could continue into the early hours of the morning until the work was completed, British studios stationed union representatives on the set at all times to ensure work ended promptly at the required hour. \"We could be in the middle of a number,\" said Lazer, \"and it was _'Lights out!'_ and [they'd] walk off.\" Consequently, if the Muppet team was still filming after 7:30, Jim would assign a crew member to watch the clock, calling out after each take the minutes remaining before eight. As the clock ticked, either Jim or Lazer would negotiate for additional time\u2014which, if granted, would be parsimoniously doled out in five-minute increments. By Lazer's account, the Muppet team was left standing in the dark \"probably ten times\"\u2014enough, he said, \"to make you crazy.\"\n\nFilming the Muppet-only segments usually took two days\u2014especially if the union's lights-out policy had left them unable to finish the first day on time\u2014and for Jim, Thursday was often the busiest day of the week, though not because of filming. Mostly, he was in meetings, discussing upcoming shows or music or scripts, meeting with set builders, or in the workshop checking on the progress of any new puppets\u2014and \"once [the meetings] started,\" said Juhl, \"they didn't stop.\" Meetings would continue over lunch\u2014\"we have to eat anyway,\" Jim would say with a shrug\u2014either at Signor Baffi's, an Italian restaurant across the street with famously slow service, or back in the Muppet Suite where trays of lukewarm grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches and even warmer bottles of beer would be delivered from the canteen and lined up on the side tables. No matter how many meetings he attended during the day, Jim could almost always concentrate intently on the task in front of him, getting down to business so quickly that Burns, Juhl, and the writing team often couldn't turn the pages of their scripts fast enough to keep up.\n\nStill, there were days when Jim was so pressed for time that he couldn't always prepare for meetings. He was reluctant to let on that he was unprepared\u2014more than anyone in the room, he understood the consequences of wasted time\u2014and with every head in the room turned toward him, he would quietly eat his sandwich and flip through the pages of his script. And suddenly, said Juhl, \"he'd start improvising this piece of material... it was blowing jazz. He would start free-associating.\" At times like this, no idea was too outrageous, whether it was penguins singing \"Lullaby of Broadway,\" a killer lamb attacking the Muppet newsman, or a Chopped Liver monster antagonizing the cast of the \"Pigs in Space\" sketch. \"He'd just start calling for things, and people would start writing them down,\" said Juhl, \"and the whole show... was done that way.\" Only Jim could make such madness seem so routine. \"He had,\" said Juhl, in perhaps the most apt description of Jim, \"a whim of steel.\"\n\nEven with the meeting over, there would usually be someone trying to talk with Jim during his walk to the elevator and the forty-five-second elevator ride down three floors. As Jim walked toward the studio floor\u2014and he never rushed, but would simply walk at a rapid clip, taking long loping strides\u2014members of the Muppet staff would walk backward in front of him, trying to finish their conversations before Jim ducked into Studio D.\n\nWhen filming finished that evening, Jim would attend more meetings\u2014often with Lew Grade or Muppet staff from the New York workshop\u2014in his office in the Muppet Suite, or over dinner, finally wrapping up at midnight. He would return to Elstree early Friday morning to review edits with his directors\u2014including the insertion of two additional minutes of material for the U.K. version of the show, since British television had fewer commercials\u2014and spend time in the Muppet workshop. At the end of the day, he and Lazer would discuss next week's show over dinner. \"My work schedule here is extremely full,\" Jim wrote in his private diary. \"Work days usually start when I get up and go late into the evenings\u2014shooting days end at 8 PM and often I'm meeting someone for dinner\u2014business mostly. I go to ATV virtually every day... weekends I drop by the editing and sound dubbing.\"\n\nAnd so it would go, twenty-four weeks a year. It was a grinding, grueling schedule\u2014and Jim loved every minute of it. \"One of Jim's real talents was that he had the ability not to take most things more seriously than they deserved,\" said Juhl. \"And that means that most things are pretty funny. I think that's what got him through the kind of schedule he had.... While he was doing it, he always knew that it was just a Muppet show. And he could keep things in that kind of perspective.\"\n\nIt was more than just keeping things in perspective; Jim just flat-out loved to work. As he confided in his diary:\n\nI don't resent the long work time\u2014I shouldn't\u2014I'm the one who set my life up this way\u2014but I love to work. It's the thing that I get the most satisfaction out of\u2014and probably what I do best. Not that I don't enjoy days off\u2014I love vacations and loafing around. But I think much of the world has the wrong idea of working\u2014it's one of the good things in life\u2014the feeling of accomplishment is more real and satisfying than finishing a good meal or looking at one's accumulated wealth.\n\nStill, Jim's ideas of vacations and \"loafing around\" were becoming more and more ambitious with his increasing success. That first summer in London, Jim flew his family and several members of the Muppet team\u2014including the boisterous Richard Hunt\u2014to Athens, where Jim had reserved a boat and crew for a week's worth of cruising the Greek islands. Jim found even his extraordinary patience quickly tested by the ship's bullheaded Greek captain, who refused to bow to any of Jim's polite requests to put up the sails and visit certain islands, and instead went chugging slowly around with the diesel engine belching purple smoke. Brian Henson remembered his dad being frustrated, yet refusing to put his foot down. \"Oh well,\" Jim would say with a shrug. \"That's what it is.\"\n\nOther times, Jim would make short sprints to Europe with one or more of the kids, taking sixteen-year-old Lisa and Brian with him to Paris in early August of 1976 to sightsee and visit the French abstract puppeteer Philippe Genty, or traveling to Morocco for five days with Lisa, Cheryl, and Brian. Those trips, said Brian, were \"fantastic.\" Looking back, said Cheryl, she could see that her father perhaps felt \"a little bit burdened\" with family and that the trips were his way of \"keeping it all together.\" \"He wanted everyone to be happy,\" said Cheryl, \"he wanted everyone to be included, and I think he really also was making an effort to be a family man.\"\n\nJim completed work on the first half of _The Muppet Show_ 's first season on August 13, 1976. With the first fifteen episodes complete, he returned to New York on August 16, and went immediately into the studio to spend a week working on Muppet inserts for _Sesame Street_ , for which Jim and the Muppet team had been awarded two more Emmys over the summer. Three weeks later, the promotional tour for _The Muppet Show_ was in high gear, with Jim crisscrossing the country to appear on _Merv Griffin, Dinah Shore_ , and _The Tonight Show_ , and chatting amiably over the phone with reporters in St. Louis, Cleveland, and San Diego. Already there was a buzz of excited anticipation; before even a single episode had aired anywhere in the United States, _Backstage_ was already lauding it as \"one of the fastest selling half-hour series\" of all time.\n\nIndeed, Brillstein and Mandell had worked hard to sell the series, showing the two pilot episodes to any station programmer who would listen, and aggressively promoting the series at the 1976 conference for the National Association of Television Program Executives. \"Seeing was believing,\" Mandell said later. \"The station executives were genuinely entertained.\" After that, _The Muppet Show_ had picked up stations at an almost exponential rate, growing quickly from the initial five CBS O&Os in late 1975, to 112 stations by May 1976, including 87 of the top 100 markets in the United States. By the beginning of the 1976 television season in September, _The Muppet Show_ had been picked up by a record 162 U.S. television stations\u2014making it available for viewing in a staggering 94.6 percent of American households\u2014as well as in a wide number of international markets, including Germany, France, the United Kingdom, and Taiwan.\n\nThe first episode of _The Muppet Show_ went on the air in New York on channel 2 at 7:30 P.M. on Monday, September 20, 1976. With a batch of fifteen shows to choose from, most stations chose to start with the episode featuring Rita Moreno\u2014a strong episode featuring a notable moment when Moreno performed \"Fever\" with Animal backing (and interrupting) her on drums. Local reviewers were enthusiastic\u2014\"If you have a child, or ever were one,\" wrote the _Chicago Tribune_ , \"you ought to watch,\" while the _Louisville Times_ raved simply, \"Long Live the Muppets!\"\u2014but though it was widely watched, the show wasn't an immediate hit. More typical was the review in _Variety_ , which liked the first episode, but found the humor rather ho-hum, astutely noting that the material \"bore more of the [head writer] Jack Burns touch... than the wry, whimsical Henson type of humor fans are more familiar with.\"\n\nJim wasn't concerned. \"We are well on our way to a smashing success,\" Jack Burns had written to Jim in a private memo at the end of July, and Jim was inclined to agree\u2014though he didn't always agree with _everything_ Burns wanted to do with the show. Jim had scuttled a suggestion from Burns that the writers play up catch-phrases and specific quirks to help viewers more quickly differentiate between characters\u2014that was trying too hard, in Jim's opinion\u2014and would ignore Burns's objections to refilming the show's opening credits. While Jim and Burns respected each other, friction between the two was increasing. Besides serving as head writer, the strong-willed Burns was also serving as a producer during the first season\u2014and that, said Lazer, \"was hard for Jim... Jim needs to be in _the_ role.\" Burns would eventually be fired by Bernie Brillstein, after Jim complained tactfully to the agent that Burns \"gives me a stomachache.\" But \"it was never personal,\" said Oz, and Jim would continue to collaborate with Burns on other projects over the next decade.\n\nJim flew back to London on September 23\u2014turning forty years old on the airplane as it crossed the Atlantic overnight\u2014and returned to work at Elstree to shoot the final nine episodes of _The Muppet Show_ 's first season, working nonstop right up until the day before Thanksgiving. Two days later, he was back in New York in time to oversee the company Christmas party at the upscale Rainbow Room at 30 Rockefeller Center before spending a quiet New Year's Eve with the family in Ahoskie, North Carolina. All in all, it had been a good year.\n\nNineteen seventy-seven began with Jim working on what would become one of his best-loved projects, a musical Christmas special based on Russell and Lillian Hoban's 1971 children's book _Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas_. Jim was an early fan of the book, featuring Emmet and his widowed mother, each of whom sets out to win a talent show's $50 prize\u2014and gamble each other's most prized possessions in the process\u2014so each can buy the other a Christmas present. Jim had successfully snagged the rights from the Hobans and in 1976 assigned Jerry Juhl the task of adapting the story for an hour-long special. Juhl completed his first draft by fall, turning in an inspiring, fully realized treatment on November 1. As he and Jim worked their way through several drafts of a script, Jim would keep most of Juhl's outline intact.\n\n_Emmet_ would also require several original songs\u2014and given the importance of the songs to the story, Jim had opted to go after an established pop tunesmith who shared his own quirky, Tin Pan Alley tastes. Songwriter Paul Williams\u2014who had penned the Top 10 hits \"An Old Fashioned Love Song\" for Three Dog Night and \"We've Only Just Begun\" for the Carpenters\u2014had come to London in June 1976 to appear as a guest star on _The Muppet Show_ , and he and Jim had gotten on so well they agreed to find another project on which to collaborate. Jim thought _Emmet_ was a good fit for their combined sensibilities\u2014and after reviewing Juhl's treatment, Jim had tried to connect with Williams in person, narrowly missing him in California five days before Christmas. Just after the New Year, however, Jim finally caught up with Williams and explained the project to him over dinner in Los Angeles. \"It felt like the warmest, funniest thing to tune in to,\" said Williams. \"Something in me lit up when I was exposed to anything Jim Henson did. So when they asked me to come over, I was really happy to do it.\"\n\nAt the same time, Jim had the New York workshop creating an entirely new cast of Muppets\u2014based largely on the Hoban drawings\u2014and designing and building not only some of their most picturesque sets, but also some of the first radio-controlled puppets. It was a project both designer Don Sahlin and technowizard Faz Fazakas devoured, building puppets of different sizes with different functions, and creating an ingenious device\u2014based on a remote-control system developed by NASA engineers\u2014in which a puppet's mouth could be manipulated remotely by a radio control device resembling an electronic mitten. Jim's favorite, though, was a mechanized Emmet who could actually row and steer a boat in the water. Jim couldn't keep his hands off of it. \"Oh, I _love_ this thing!\" he would say as he leapt for the controls.\n\nThe Muppet team spent the first few days in March 1977 recording the songs for _Emmet Otter_ in Los Angeles, performing in the recording studio backed by Paul Williams and his road band. All agreed that the songs were extraordinary. Once again, Jim had seemed almost intuitively to find the best person for his particular project\u2014a knack that, in this particular case, at least, amazed the notoriously skeptical designer Michael Frith. \"When [Jim] chose Paul Williams to do the music for _Emmet Otter_ , did he know what a brilliant, brilliant contribution Paul was gonna make?\" Frith said later. \"There's just one wonderful song after another.\" \"We all _love_ the music in this show,\" Jim wrote to Williams immediately afterward, \"and think it all works fantastically well.\" While it was the hymnal \"Where the River Meets the Sea\" that gave _Emmet_ heart, Jim's guilty pleasure was the hard-rocking song Williams had written for the rival River Bottom Nightmare Band, which Jim, Oz, Nelson, Goelz, and Hunt performed with snarling relish. Laughed Williams, \"I think there's some little piece of Jim Henson's soul that just wanted to be in... some nasty rock and roll [band]!\"\n\nFilming began in earnest on March 13, 1977, when Jim and his crew took over one of the larger television studios in Toronto. Here the Muppet designers\u2014keeping an eye on drawings by Frith\u2014had constructed most of _Emmet_ 's world, including an enormous Frog-town Hollow set, with a real river snaking through it. The lighting crew had set up a sunrise and sunset that ran on regularly timed cycles throughout the day, leaving the sets aglow in soft morning purple and, later, blazing evening orange. Real grass, covered in artificial snow, was used to dress the set, though to Jim's amusement, the studio lights were so warm that the grass began to turn green and sprout through the fake snow. It was big and impressive, and Jim was clearly proud of it, slowly strolling the set's quaint Main Street in his leather jacket and wide-brimmed hat, looking as if he had stepped directly onto his set from a spaghetti western.\n\nOther sets were just as painstakingly designed. \" _Emmet Otter_ was the first time we got into elaborate sets where we had floors in the interiors and we could take a wide shot with characters coming up through holes in the floor, and we'd remove parts of the floor and have the characters moving through space in waist shots,\" said Jim. \"That was the most elaborate production we'd gotten into at that point.\" Said Jerry Nelson, who performed Emmet, \"This was a way of working that we had done before, but never on the scope of this production\u2014particularly because there was a huge, fifty-foot-long river.\"\n\nThe puppetry itself was typically flawless, with a few flashy moments: there was Kermit pedaling a bike again, as well as Muppets driving snowmobiles and jalopies, and the _How'd they do that?_ Moment utilizing Fazakas's remote-controlled singing and rowing Emmet\u2014an illusion \"so perfect and so beautiful,\" said Frith admiringly, \"because you knew darn well\u2014at least at some subliminal level\u2014that there was no puppeteer down there in the river with his hand up inside this rowboat doing that!\" The performers also had more to be particular about than any previous Muppet production; for the first time, said Jim, \"we were looking for realistic movement and animals that looked like animals. They still had cartoon-like features, but we were looking for three-dimensional animals out in the real world.\" With this in mind, Jim would film certain sequences over and over again if he didn't think they were convincing enough, or if he decided a character was moving too much like a puppet and not enough like a real animal. \"Working as I do with the movement of puppet creatures, I'm always struck by the feebleness of our efforts to achieve naturalistic movement,\" said Jim later. Consequently, when a puppet bird flew \"too straight,\" Jim rolled tape over and over again until he had it right, at last remarking quietly, \"Very nice.\"\n\nShooting for _Emmet_ lasted twelve days, followed by eight more days of editing at the end of March. Jim had invested over $525,000 of his own money on _Emmet_ and he and the Muppet performers were rightfully very proud of the project. \"Everything about that production was magic,\" said Nelson; Goelz, who had played Emmet's porcupine friend Wendell, called it \"one of the highlights of my career.\" And yet, incredibly, after completing the final mix in April, Jim couldn't spark the interest of a single television network. Brillstein would make the rounds, eventually getting it aired on Canadian television in December 1977, but Jim would have to wait more than a year before _Emmet Otter_ made its American debut\u2014and even then it would only show up on HBO, a subscription cable channel with a minuscule viewership at that time.\n\nIn the meantime, Jim spent the rest of the spring zipping between New York and London, meeting with the Muppet designers in the Elstree workshop, presiding over a company meeting at Tavern on the Green, cutting together an official _Muppet Show_ record, and marking Kermit the Frog's birthday with a celebratory appearance on _Dinah Shore_. At home, he had finally relented to thirteen-year-old Brian's pleas for a motorcycle, and had decided that both he and Brian would each get bikes and learn to ride together. Unfortunately, Jim's knowledge of and passion for cars didn't carry over to motorcycles, and he ended up purchasing a gigantic bike with a tiny engine built for rough-and-tumble enduro racing. Brian, who had simply wanted a dirt bike, could barely sit astride it, and Jim's own enthusiasm waned quickly. \"I don't think he ever rode the bike,\" Brian recalled with a laugh.\n\nOn May 8, 1977, Jim headed for London to begin production on the second season of _The Muppet Show_ , once again taking the _Queen Elizabeth 2_ from New York\u2014and paying to take most of the members of _The Muppet Show_ 's creative staff with him. Jim was positively beaming as the ship pulled out into the open waters of the Atlantic. \"It was such a good time for him,\" said Juhl. Whether it was a good time for everyone else, however, the writer couldn't say. Juhl, who had spent his 1971 vacation writing scripts and outlines with Jim, understood all too well Jim's inability to sit still. \"We have all these days when there is nothing happening out at sea... and we worked like fools!\" said Juhl. \"That's a typical Jim Henson vacation.\"\n\nIn the six months Jim had been away from London, _The Muppet Show_ had slowly but steadily been building a following with British audiences. In 1976, the Rita Moreno episode had been submitted by ATV as a nominee for the prestigious Golden Rose of Montreux Award\u2014perhaps the most important international festival in television\u2014and had won, beating out entries from twenty-nine other countries. That had given the show the gloss of critical and artistic gravitas it needed to catch the eye of the press, but more than anything, British viewers themselves had been loyal and patient. To build an audience, Jim said, \"we needed time\"\u2014and the TV audience in Britain had stuck with the show week after week, even as local programmers, in a move reminiscent of WRC's treatment of _Sam and Friends_ over a decade ago, bounced the show from time slot to time slot.\n\nInitially, _The Muppet Show_ had been consigned to England's \"family time,\" airing on Saturdays at 5:15, a relatively dead zone of TV time\u2014and yet, as a reporter from the _Evening Standard_ was quick to note, every television set on display at Harrod's department store was tuned to _The Muppet Show_ , with a throng of shoppers and employees crowded around to watch. Sensing they had a winner, the network moved the show to Sunday evenings, traditionally a ratings stronghold, though _The Muppet Show_ 's 7:00 P.M. time slot still put it well outside peak viewing hours. Nonetheless, it became the number two show in the United Kingdom, only narrowly trailing the hugely popular _Bruce Forsyth and the Generation Game_. Its following was so large and loyal, in fact, that when Granada TV in Manchester moved the show from Sunday evening to the less popular Saturday night, network executives were disparaged in the _Evening Mail_ as \"Muppet Murderers\" and the program was wisely moved back to its Sunday time slot.\n\nAs a result, when Jim arrived back in London that May, _The Muppet Show_ was already being watched weekly by 15 million faithful Britons. Fan mail poured into the Muppet Suite at Elstree, burying Jim's desk until his return. _The Muppet Show Album_ , scarcely a month old, was speeding up British music charts, and would knock _The Beatles Live at the Hollywood Bowl_ from the number one spot by summer (meanwhile, back in the United States, the album would never even crack the Top 100, reaching only 153). And like the Beatles whom he had displaced on the music charts, Jim suddenly found himself\u2014and the Muppets\u2014in the middle of a fan and media frenzy that surprised even him. \"It's like they're creating this 'Muppetmania' thing,\" Jim said with just a hint of exasperation. But what did he expect? \"The show was a big smash hit,\" said Jerry Nelson plainly. The first week back at Elstree, the shuttle bus Jim used to ferry the Muppet team around the area\u2014emblazoned with _The Muppet Show_ logo on the sides\u2014was mobbed by fans at a traffic light. In Parliament, several members of the House of Commons would \"rendezvous secretly\" each Monday morning \"to discuss the weekend show.\" It was even reported in the _Daily Express_ that the entire staff of the Russian embassy in London would gather around the embassy's lone TV to watch the show, peering in on Kermit and the Muppets at a time when most Western television shows were prohibited in the Soviet Union.\n\n\"It's fantastic the way the Muppets have really taken off,\" Jim told the _Daily Mirror_ \u2014but British journalists were just as interested in the Muppet performers, profiling Jim and \"the Muppet Men\" as if they were pop stars. Jim was demure about his own celebrity. \"I don't think or talk about superstars,\" he told one journalist. \"A lot of the credit for the Muppets must go to Lew Grade for putting money and faith in us.\" But once the subject of money had been broached, Jim was typically reluctant to discuss numbers, and parried efforts to speculate on how much he and the Muppets might be worth. \"Really, money doesn't concern me at all. I'm only worried about getting each show right.\"\n\nRegardless of Jim's deflection on the matter, it wasn't just the show that was successful; Muppet-related merchandise was booming in the U.K. as well\u2014during the first four years of the show, British merchandising alone would take in more than $25 million. As was his habit with any Muppet-related _Sesame Street_ merchandise, Jim took it upon himself to act as his own quality control, personally authorizing the licenses for any Muppet products himself, signing off on puzzles, jack-in-the-boxes, and T-shirts, but rejecting other products with artwork or materials he considered \"shabby.\" \"I feel I owe it to the many people who think of the Muppets as personal friends to keep the standards high,\" Jim explained. \"The most common comment people make [is] that Kermit... and all the other Muppets seem to be real people. That is very gratifying to me, but it also means I have a big responsibility.... After all, they've become real people to me, too, and I like them too much to let anyone take advantage of them.\"\n\nThe huge success of the show also made the job of landing guest stars that much easier. By the second season, said Jerry Juhl, \"there were times when the stars would call _us_. It was the thing to do.\" Letters from agents and publicists flooded into Lazer's suite at Elstree or Brillstein's office in California, every one offering their client as an ideal guest, and assuring Jim that their client \"adored\" the Muppets. Some of these appeals were successful; Brillstein booked Kenny Rogers as a guest during _The Muppet Show_ 's fourth season after receiving an imploring telegram. There were also intriguing offers from nontraditional entertainers like the opera singer R\u00e9gine Crespin, who wanted to be on the program (\"I love that show!\" she gushed) and the humor writer Erma Bombeck. And each week, Jim and Lazer would make lengthy\u2014and expensive\u2014long-distance phone calls to Brillstein to gauge the agent's reaction to the countless letters and telegrams and postcards. \"Bernie was a rock, an anchor for show business for us,\" said Lazer. \"He kept us real. We were in London and he would [tell us] what's entertaining now, what the networks want.\"\n\nJim also wrote down his own list of dream guests\u2014and urged the Muppet writers and performers to do the same\u2014filling pages and pages of his yellow notepads with columns of names. On one page, Jim put together a list of puppeteers and personal influences he wanted on the show, including two\u2014Se\u00f1or Wences and Edgar Bergen\u2014that he eventually got, as well as some tantalizing possibilities in those he didn't, such as Bil Baird, Shari Lewis, Burr Tillstrom, and Stan Freberg. On another sheet, Jim took great care to note potential female guest stars, drawing up a long and somewhat quirky list that included Mae West, Mia Farrow, Princess Anne, Kim Novak, and Katharine Hepburn. At the bottom of the page, written in giggling afterthought, Jim had added Liberace's name to the list. As it turns out, it was one of the few names on this particular wish list he actually booked, with the pianist appearing during _The Muppet Show_ 's third season. \"Everybody had only the nicest things to say about him,\" Jim wrote of Liberace in his diary, though he confessed he was shocked to learn what a \"surprisingly bad pianist\" he was.\n\nThe dream lineup assembled by the Muppet performers and writing staff was no less quirky, though slightly hipper than Jim's somewhat stodgy list. The performers asked for interesting, slightly dangerous actors, artists, and musicians to work with, putting Dustin Hoffman, David Bowie, Salvador Dal\u00ed, Michael Caine, and Robert DeNiro near the top of their list. The writers, meanwhile, aimed even more adventurously, proposing Frank Zappa, Meryl Streep, the entire Monty Python troupe, and staggeringly, a reunited Beatles. Lazer, in fact, was convinced the Beatles could be persuaded if their schedules could be accommodated\u2014and with Jim's encouragement, he made a serious though unsuccessful run at each member of the Fab Four, nearly securing Ringo Starr and getting at least a passing interest from Paul McCartney, who was, his representatives promised Lazer, \"a great fan of the show.\"\n\nStill, there were more than enough big names moving through Elstree during _The Muppet Show_ 's five-year run; the second season alone featured Zero Mostel, Milton Berle, Steve Martin, John Cleese, Peter Sellers, and\u2014in one of the most anticipated shows of the season\u2014ballet virtuoso Rudolf Nureyev, who gamely danced with a gigantic pig in a Muppet production of \"Swine Lake.\" \"As the show kept gaining in popularity, we had a waiting list,\" said Brillstein. \"Jim was the king of London.... It was a great time.\"\n\nThat summer, too, Jim moved into a flat on the serendipitously named Frognal Gardens, a shady, bending street lined with quaint Georgian row houses in London's Camden district, just south of Hampstead Heath. It was an area Jim came to love, strolling the steep streets, and walking or flying kites in the enormous, rambling, grassy Hampstead Heath, which came to be a special retreat for him. Some nights, if he wasn't working too late, he would put on a tuxedo and spend the evening at one of the exclusive clubs to which he belonged, often taking Lazer or any interested _Muppet Show_ guest with him to have dinner and play craps or blackjack until late into the night. \"He _loved_ all that James Bond kinda stuff,\" recalled Cheryl Henson.\n\nWhile Jim wasn't normally a high-stakes gambler, he could be a gutsy player\u2014and one evening, during a hot streak playing craps, he chose to let his money ride for much of the night and ended up winning $10,000. For Jim, though, the gambling experience itself\u2014putting on a tuxedo, walking into a smoky club, and sidling up to the craps table\u2014was more exciting than the outcome; losing didn't matter, and any winnings were cheerfully regarded as a kind of unearned income. \"It's a kind of equanimity that he really cultivated,\" said Lisa Henson, \"so that if he lost money, it would mean nothing.\" Still, watching Jim build a big pot could be nerve-racking. Lisa recalled another evening when Jim spent most of the night at the blackjack table, building a sizable pile of chips\u2014\"and I just took the chips off the table,\" she said, \"and he was like, 'Oh, come on!' and I said, 'All right, you can keep gambling with what you have, but I'll be taking this for later!' \" Rather than pocket the money for himself, then, gambling winnings were usually reserved for upscale staff retreats or entertainment for the Muppet crew\u2014in the case of his $10,000 gambling windfall, Jim banked the money until Christmas, using it to pay for a lavish Christmas party for Henson Associates.\n\nJim also loved the restaurants in the Hampstead area. He wasn't much of a cook\u2014peanut butter sandwiches and tomato soup were the extent of his culinary skills\u2014so he ate out nearly every evening. Eventually, said Lisa, he knew \"every single restaurant in Hampstead,\" and could steer visitors to the best restaurant, pub, or bakery for anything from crepes and pastries to French or Italian food. And there was always dessert; Jim _loved_ dessert, and would end every meal by asking the waiter to bring over the dessert tray, where he would waggle his long fingers at every item. \"What's that thingy?\" he would ask playfully.\n\nDespite being an ocean away from his family, Jim was an intensely devoted father\u2014and every night, almost without fail, he would call Bedford at 6:00 P.M. New York time, so he could speak to each of the Henson children before he went to bed at midnight. \"There was no question that he was totally part of our lives and our scene,\" said Jane, \"even though he wasn't physically there.\" During summer breaks or school holidays, Jim would almost always have one or more of the children stay with him in London, taking them to the studio during the day and out to dinner meetings with him in the evening. Whichever child happened to be in London with him, said Lazer, \"was his absolute favorite at that moment. [He had] total focus and concentration on that child.\"\n\n\"We all enjoyed being around him, and one of the best ways for us to be around him was to work with him,\" said Cheryl Henson, who spent several summers working in the ATV workshop, \"because when he was working, he was always at his peak.\" For Jim, having his children with him was never an inconvenience. \"That's great fun for me,\" he wrote, and he would eagerly jump into projects and other schemes with them, even committing to \"go vegetarian\"\u2014at least for a while\u2014at the encouragement of Cheryl, who had been impressed by vegetarian Bernadette Peters during her August 1977 appearance on _The Muppet Show_.\n\nJim returned to New York in early September 1977, just in time to spend several days taping inserts for _Sesame Street_ \u2014as he had assured Cooney and the media, the show would always be a priority\u2014before dashing off to Los Angeles to attend the Emmy Awards. In its first season, _The Muppet Show_ had been nominated in three categories\u2014including Outstanding Comedy-Variety Series\u2014and won one, earning Rita Moreno an Emmy for her guest appearance. Not a bad showing for a show in its first season, but privately Jim was a bit disappointed. \"Up for 3,\" he wrote in his journal, \"\u2014only Rita won\u2014sigh.\"\n\nRegardless of the Emmy Award losses, _The Muppet Show_ had grown steadily in popularity in the United States during the five months Jim had been in London, continually picking up viewers and winning over critics. Jim, too, was becoming nearly as well known as his creations. After making appearances to promote the Muppets on _The Tonight Show_ or _Merv Griffin_ , Jim suddenly found himself being stopped by fans as he walked in Central Park or ate in restaurants near the Muppet workshop\u2014and had to admit he liked it. \"If some people recognize me, that's enough to flatter my ego,\" he said sheepishly.\n\nSuddenly, the Muppets were everywhere\u2014in every newspaper, on every television, in every city, in every market. By Lazer's account, the Muppets were already being seen by 125 million viewers in 103 countries\u2014and it was only their second season. Whatever channel they were on, in whatever market, they were unbeatable. When channel 11 in Chicago tried to launch a new local children's music show and put it up against the powerhouse _Muppet Show_ , the reviewer at the _Chicago Sun-Times_ snickered, \"Dumb, dumb, dumb.\"\n\nAnd it wasn't just children who were fans. The American Guild of Variety Artists gave the Muppets their \"Entertainer of the Year\" award\u2014where they were lauded by Edgar Bergen as \"the most elegant and sophisticated creation of the puppeteer's art\"\u2014while the National Association for Better Broadcasting hailed _The Muppet Show_ as the year's \"most creative, entertaining and refreshing new program.\" American soldiers and their English counterparts adopted Muppets as their mascots, flying banners emblazoned with Kermit or Miss Piggy. _People_ magazine and _Good Morning America_ sent reporters to shadow Jim in the workshop, dazzled by the relatively small crew that built and performed the magical Muppets.\n\nLazer could barely contain his glee. \"[Critics] didn't feel this show could bridge the gap between kids and adults. But we knew it could. We knew it.\" Brillstein, too, was nearly vibrating with excitement, and wrote Jim a heartfelt note to let him know how pleased he was for him. \"I guess the reason for this letter is simply to tell you that I love you,\" wrote the agent, \"and I'm very proud of what you've accomplished... you're terrific and I am proud to be part of the amazing success you're having.\"\n\nJim, too, was pleased, but circumspect. Since the early 1960s, he had been drafting, drawing, writing, and pitching various iterations of _The Muppet Show_ , from the rough sketches of _Zoocus_ in his notebooks and the unrealized pitch for _Johnny Carson and the Muppet Machine_ to the proposals and outlines that eventually became the _The Muppets Valentine Show_ and _Sex and Violence_. Now that he finally had _The Muppet Show_ , he was ready to move on.\n\nJon Stone, who was still working with Jim on _Sesame Street_ , thought he understood Jim's creative wanderlust. \"He was restless,\" said Stone. \"And Jim would've been restless if he'd lived to a hundred and nine.... He would never be satisfied to stay where he was. He was always pushing the limits.\" Added Lazer, \"He'd want to move on to another phase.... That's what kept him doing this.... If he didn't have that other thing, he would be bored. But he never stopped thinking or going beyond.\"\n\nTo Jim, then, the next step was obvious. He had conquered television; now he was going to make a movie.\n\n# **CHAPTER TEN**\n\n#\n\n# LIFE'S LIKE A MOVIE  \n1977\u20131979\n\n_Frank Oz, Jim, Dave Goelz, and Jerry Nelson perform on their backs in the baking sun for 1979's_ The Muppet Movie. _Jim was delighted by its success_. (photo credit 10.1)\n\nON A BRISK NOVEMBER MORNING IN 1977\u2014THE TUESDAY JUST BEFORE Thanksgiving\u2014Jim left his flat in Frognal Gardens and slid into the backseat of a hired car for the twenty-minute ride to Elstree. He and the Muppet crew were in the middle of a hectic week; on Monday evening, they had made a triumphant appearance at the prestigious Royal Variety Performance (\"Last night,\" Jim had written with near audible glee in his private diary, \"I met the Queen of England\u2014 _ta dah!_ \"). Now they would spend the next three days packing in tapings for two episodes of _The Muppet Show_ before taking a short break for Thanksgiving\u2014and on Thanksgiving Day, a gigantic Kermit the Frog balloon would glide over the crowd during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York. As the car moved north through London, Jim's driver asked, \"Did you ever, in your wildest dreams, think you would have success like this?\"\n\nJim had no doubt about his answer. \"The honest answer to this,\" he explained later, \"which I do occasionally admit, is that yes, I've always known that I would be very successful in anything I decided to do\u2014and it turned out to be puppetry. And not only am I not surprised, but I'm disappointed that it's taken this long, and I haven't begun to be as successful as I will be.\"\n\nThat response would have been no surprise to Jane, who had been impressed by Jim's quiet resolve and self-confidence since the very beginning. \"Jim's way of operating and his way of thinking was extraordinary,\" said Jane. \"I met him when he was eighteen and it was already in place.... And even by eighteen he was convinced he was going to be successful.\" And yet, \"his dilemma,\" said Jane, \"was, 'Why is it taking so long to be successful?' \"\n\nLike his protagonist in _Time Piece_ , Jim still felt he was racing against a ticking clock to get everything done. As Jon Stone had said, Jim would have been restless if he'd lived to be 109\u2014and one had only to look at Jim's schedule that winter to see a man trying to do it all. During eight weeks in London, Jim had wrapped up work on eleven episodes of _The Muppet Show_ , participated in the Royal Variety Performance, and taped new television specials with Julie Andrews and Bob Hope. On December 16, he flew back to New York long enough to host two Christmas parties, went skiing for five days, then spent ten days in early 1978 working on inserts for _Sesame Street_. \"Jim was the hardest working man I have ever met,\" said Muppet performer Caroll Spinney, who was also astounded at how little sleep Jim seemed to need. Spinney recalled once leaving a party with Jim in the wee hours of the morning, and asking whether he was at all concerned about getting up in time to make a 9:00 A.M. taping. Jim laughed; he'd be ready, he told Spinney, because he had a breakfast meeting to attend first. \"He loved what he did so much, I don't think he thought of it as work,\" said Spinney. \"It was the way he lived.... He was like a juggler who could keep twenty things in the air at the same time.\"\n\nBy late 1977, one of those things was a movie\u2014and not just \" _The Muppet Show_ on film,\" as Jim put it, but rather \"the flip side of _The Muppet Show_.\" Instead of bringing a live guest into the world of the Muppets, Jim explained, \"we are taking the Muppets out into the real world.\" It was an ambitious idea. Puppets had played supporting roles on the big screen before\u2014puppeteer Lou Bunin had provided the puppetry and stop motion effects for a 1950 version of _Alice in Wonderland_ , while Bil Baird had performed the memorable marionette sequence in _The Sound of Music_. But no one had ever filmed a full-length movie with puppets as the main characters, interacting with real people in the real world. \"Jim was a dreamer,\" said Jerry Juhl, and yet \"he was pragmatic enough to make the dream happen.\"\n\nFortunately for Jim, Lord Grade was much the same way\u2014and when Jim approached the ATV chief in late 1977 to discuss the possibility of financing a Muppet movie, he found Grade remarkably receptive. Grade, said Bernie Brillstein, \"was the only one who understood\" Jim's conviction that the Muppets could work on the big screen, and listened and nodded enthusiastically as Jim made his pitch. It wasn't until Jim mentioned the budget he had in mind that Grade finally arched an eyebrow. At a time when most Disney movies were budgeted at just over a million dollars, Jim was asking for $8 million for his film. As always, Jim's \"whim of steel\" was tough to resist. \"Lew Grade, being a true gentleman, went ahead with it,\" said Brillstein admiringly.\n\nWhat Grade didn't know was that Jim already had in the planning stages not just one movie, but _two_ \u2014and typically, Jim would juggle both projects at once. Even as he set to work on a rough story outline for _The Muppet Movie_ with _Muppet Show_ writer Jack Burns, Jim had already been talking for months with British fantasy artist Brian Froud about collaborating on some sort of yet-to-be-determined fantasy film. While _The Muppet Movie_ would be the priority, the fantasy film would be Jim's pet project, a creative sandbox where he hoped to build and play and extend puppetry beyond the Muppets.\n\nIt had started with a drawing. \"I saw Brian Froud's work in a couple of books, and I loved what he did,\" said Jim. Froud\u2014a puckish, bespectacled Englishman with a mop of curly hair\u2014didn't so much draw as he _conjured_ , sketching out beautiful, ethereal worlds populated by trolls and fairies and elves and ogres, all penciled in a highly detailed, sumptuous style with a vaguely Victorian shimmer. Froud honestly believed in fairies, and it showed; his work was brimming with mood and atmosphere, and Jim was enchanted with Froud's vision\u2014he had been particularly taken with a drawing of a young adventurer gazing up into a waterfall cascading over a carved troll\u2014and couldn't wait to start bringing his drawings to life. \"The thought of being able to take those designs and convert them into three dimensions,\" Jim said, \"was really exciting.\"\n\nEven before meeting Jim, Froud was already considering doing some sort of project featuring tangible versions of his illustrations, and puppetry seemed the ideal art form to bring his visions to life. Jim had brought Froud to the Muppet workshop at Elstree over the summer so he could see how the Muppet builders worked, and Froud had been immediately intrigued by the Land of Gortch puppets performed on _Saturday Night Live_ , with their mossy bodies and glistening taxidermy eyes. It was enough to convince Froud that Jim was his man. \"Make deal with Brian Froud to do great film,\" Jim wrote excitedly in his journal in August 1977. The enthusiastic agreement that would eventually spawn _The Dark Crystal_ was in place.\n\nThings would begin to take a bit of shape in early 1978, when Jim and Froud began an extended series of morning meetings in New York to try to determine what their movie would be about. \"I'm very enthused,\" wrote Jim in his diary. Rather than trying to develop a story first\u2014never Jim's strongest suit\u2014he was more interested in fleshing out the underlying concept, as well as the look and feel of the world and the characters inhabiting it. He found a willing collaborator in Froud, who filled the backgrounds of his art with intriguing, often unnoticed, details. \"When I talked to Brian about the possibility of handing him the whole conceptual side of the project\u2014so that he would be responsible for the look of all the characters and sets, the whole world\u2014I think he found that a delightful challenge.\" That approach, while artistically satisfying, still didn't result in much beyond a vague description of \"a pantheistic world in which mountains sang to one another and forests were alive.\"\n\nWith that sort of worldview, then, it was perhaps fitting that it was a snowstorm that finally nudged Jim into drafting the first rough story outline for the film. In early February, as Jim and sixteen-year-old Cheryl were preparing to leave for London on the Concorde, a massive snowstorm dumped two feet of snow on New York, stranding the two of them at John F. Kennedy Airport. \"I was trying to figure out how I could find a few days to work on [the story outline],\" Jim recalled later, \"and there it was!\" He and Cheryl checked into the Howard Johnson's motel next to the airport and spent two days writing. \"I really had a delightful time working on the concept\u2014and talking it over with Cheryl,\" wrote Jim in his diary, \"and it all jelled during that time, so that I'm quite happy with the way it has begun taking shape.\" It was only a skeleton of a story, but he and Cheryl had fleshed out some of the basic plot elements, including the central idea \"for the evil characters to be a split from the good characters.\" \"All kinds of things came together,\" wrote Jim. They had even come up with a name for the film: _The Crystal_. It was a good start.\n\nJim finally made it to London by Valentine's Day, commuting from his flat in Frognal Gardens to the workshop at Elstree in a brand-new Kermit-green Lotus with a license plate reading KERMIT, a gift to him from Lord Grade to celebrate their success. \"I love it!\" Jim wrote excitedly in his diary. \"I've always enjoyed cars\u2014and I enjoy being in love with my car.\" It was lean and low-slung, and Jim \"looked like he belonged in that car,\" said Lazer. \"He loved it.\"\n\nIn New York, builders were at work on a new full-body walkaround Muppet for _Sesame Street_ , a large shaggy dog named Barkley, while in London, production was ramping up for the third season of _The Muppet Show_. The success of _The Muppet Show_ had meant more than just fame or high ratings; it also meant the workshop at Elstree was becoming a destination, almost a kind of Mecca, for Muppet fans. \"Unlike other TV studios, [ATV is] all quite open,\" said _Muppet Show_ director Peter Harris, \"and we've had parents bringing their kids in to watch it all happening.\" Tours of Studio D and the Muppet workshop became so popular, in fact, that Jim had to put up a sign in the workshop politely asking visitors not to \"fondle, molest, handle, touch or tweak\" any of the two hundred Muppets hanging neatly on pegs around the room (\"They _hate_ being tweaked,\" joked Jim). On any given day, there could be several different versions of Kermit being clothed or repaired on workbenches, which led more than one tourist to ask which puppet was the _real_ Kermit. \"They're _all_ the real one,\" Jim would grin in response.\n\nWhile he tolerated visitors to the set, producer David Lazer would wince when tourists began taking photos of Muppets hanging lifelessly on the studio walls. He didn't like for people to see the puppets looking, as he called it, \"dead.\" That never bothered Jim, who could still toss a Muppet on a bench or the floor as easily as he had tossed members of the _Sam and Friends_ cast into the Henson toy boxes. Caroll Spinney remembered being shocked when Jim once pulled Ernie off his arm and casually cast the character aside. Spinney scooped up the discarded puppet, cradled it in his arms and assured Ernie that Jim \"hadn't meant\" to do it. When Spinney explained to Jim that he _always_ apologized to a dropped puppet, Jim could only smile; to Jim, they were simply tools of their craft. \"I'm not sentimental about them,\" he told Spinney.\n\nIn the past year, workshop staff had grown from twelve designers and builders to more than twenty, split between New York and London. The London workshop was now overseen by Amy van Gilder, a vivacious designer and builder who had been assigned the post following the departure of Bonnie Erickson, who left to form her own company. It had been an emotional farewell for Erickson. \"I cried; Jim didn't,\" she said later, laughing. For Jim, it was just the natural progression of things\u2014people came, people went. \"This is what you need to do,\" he told her, \"and we're not going to lose touch.\" They never did. \"Jim always said that you are where you are because that's where you need to be,\" said Erickson, \"and if you need to move on, you will move on.... He was not worried that people went off to do their own thing because he knew that other people were coming in. He felt it was really important to have fresh, new ideas.\"\n\nThe new year would bring another loss that was more heartbreaking. On February 20, forty-nine-year-old Don Sahlin was found dead in his ransacked New York City apartment. Police never determined if Sahlin had been the victim of a crime; instead, the cause of death was listed as fatty liver\u2014but either conclusion was puzzling. Muppet builders had long grown used to Sahlin's habit of leaving the Muppet workshop each day at 4:30 and climbing into a cab at the end of the block, then enigmatically returning to the workshop hours later. When asked where he went, Sahlin would only insist it was a personal matter. \"Don was extremely private,\" said Dave Goelz. \"He was always claiming [health issues], but it seemed like a joke.\"\n\nLazer, who had taken the call from Sahlin's family in the Muppet Suite, delivered the news to Jim as gently as he could. \"He just stared at me,\" said Lazer. \"His jaw dropped, his mouth just opened, and he stared.\" As the news spread through the Muppet organization, everyone seemed to naturally gravitate toward the workshop that Sahlin had called home. Oz remembered Jim and the Muppet team lingering in the workshop in stunned silence. \"I was standing there crying, I was really angry,\" said Oz. But Jim didn't cry. Lazer thought perhaps Jim didn't want to be seen crying in front of staff\u2014\"He thought maybe showing feelings was like a weakness at times,\" offered Lazer\u2014but that wasn't it, either.\n\nOz\u2014who knew Jim perhaps better than anyone\u2014understood. \"Jim said, 'It's okay, we'll see Don again,' \" said Oz, \"and he really believed it.\" It was yet another facet of Jim's self-proclaimed ridiculous optimism. \"In some ways, he didn't allow himself to _not_ be an optimist,\" said Jane\u2014and Jim took comfort in the firm belief that, somehow or other, whether on another plane of existence or perhaps in another life, he and Sahlin would work and play together once more. \"I'm sure he will go on and do many more things,\" Jim wrote of Sahlin in the days following his death, \"and I'm sure we will be together again sometime\u2014for there is certainly a loving and creative bond between us.\" Four days later, Jim, Lazer, Oz, and Goelz took the Concorde from London to New York to attend Sahlin's funeral, returning to London that same evening. Shortly thereafter, Jim would honor Sahlin by dedicating one of the memorial benches in Hampstead Heath to the Muppet builder's memory. Life would go on, but Sahlin's death, said Oz, \"was a huge, massive impact for us personally and professionally.\"\n\nProduction on _The Muppet Show_ 's third season began in London in early April. The Muppet cast had expanded again, with the addition of the characters like the boomerang-fish-throwing Lew Zealand\u2014performed by Nelson in what he called his \"Frankie Fontaine voice\"\u2014and the earnest Beauregard the janitor, a character Goelz loved, but whose passive nature frustrated Muppet writers. With the Muppet cast growing, Jim had also decided to hire additional performers\u2014and late in the second season had brought in a young English actress named Louise Gold, who had interviewed with Jim at the encouragement of her agent, who thought her dynamic voice might make up for her initial lack of puppetry skills. He was right, though Gold always joked that she had been hired mainly because, at five foot nine, she was one of the few women tall enough to perform alongside the taller male performers. Nevertheless, Gold took to puppetry quickly, performing right hands with Jim before moving on to characters of her own before the season was over, including Annie Sue, Miss Piggy's adoring\u2014and aspiring\u2014rival with the big singing voice.\n\nLike Fran Brill on _Sesame Street_ , Gold had immediately fit in with the _Muppet Show_ performers. \"Everyone here's lovely,\" she told the British newspapers, admitting that \"puppeteering is a very difficult craft to do really well.\" Her major strength as a performer\u2014and one of her most endearing traits\u2014was an ability to see almost anything, including herself, as slightly silly, an outlook she shared with Jim. \"She was just out there and ready to make fun of herself,\" said Brian Henson, \"and she was adorable.\"\n\nAnother new performer, hired just before work began on the third season, was an eighteen-year-old puppeteer and Muppet enthusiast from Atlanta named Steve Whitmire, who, at the urging of Caroll Spinney, had boldly cold-called the New York Muppet workshop and landed an audition. As it turned out, Jane Henson had been on her way south to inspect the Kermit the Frog balloon being constructed for the 1977 Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and offered to meet Whitmire at the Atlanta airport for an audition and interview. Whitmire showed up with a cardboard footlocker full of puppets he had performed on Atlanta television\u2014reminiscent of Jim, who had lugged black boxes of Muppets from one job to another\u2014but \"there really was no place [to talk],\" recalled Jane, \"so we sat down in a little caf\u00e9 kind of place, and he pulled out a puppet.\"\n\nWith diners and coffee drinkers looking on, Whitmire and his puppet began chatting with several delighted children seated nearby. \"I was just so impressed with the way he handled the situation,\" said Jane, who recommended that Jim personally interview the young puppeteer. Jane's instincts\u2014as usual\u2014were right, and after a brief interview with Jim, Whitmire was hired and dispatched to London to join _The Muppet Show_ team in the spring of 1978. Like Gold, he would spend time performing right hands and background puppets before being given recurring characters like Miss Piggy's dog, Foo Foo, and Rizzo the Rat.\n\nJim believed that puppetry\u2014especially the Muppet brand of puppetry\u2014required the same kind of serious time and training that great actors devoted to their craft. \"Muppet operators must be good actors, good technicians, preferably good singers... and occasionally good dancers. It's like being a television star by proxy.\" Jim was committed to the idea of his performers learning by doing, serving apprenticeships of right hands and background characters, then being handed more and more responsibilities and visible roles as their skills improved. \"One thing about being a puppeteer is it really takes a long time to learn how to do it,\" said Jim. \"And people who join us, you usually have to do it for about a year before the puppetry gets sort of good enough to be able to handle major parts.\" Ultimately, said Jim, \"I like working collaboratively with people. I have a terrific group of people who work with me, and I think of the work that we do as 'our' work.\"\n\nBy the third season of _The Muppet Show_ , however, more and more of the media's hurricane was revolving around the show's break-out star\u2014Miss Piggy\u2014and, consequently, on her performer, Frank Oz. Oz claimed he scarcely noticed the attention lavished on Piggy\u2014\"I had other characters to do, after all,\" he said coyly\u2014and Jim, too, seemed unfazed, generously praising Oz as \"probably the person most responsible for the Muppets being funny.\" But for some Muppet performers, long used to the collegial atmosphere Jim encouraged on the set, it was tough to see one puppeteer promoted above the rest.\n\nRichard Hunt, who had worked alongside Jim and Oz for eight years, admitted to hurt feelings. Both Oz and Jim, he thought, were \"distancing themselves\" from the rest of the performers as the Muppets grew in popularity. \"It was very hard on us,\" said Hunt, \"especially Jerry [Nelson, who] was very equal with them\" as a performer on _Sesame Street_. At one point, Nelson had even confronted Jim at a party, demanding to know why he wasn't being used more\u2014a question Jim left hanging in the air. (Lazer later said it was because Nelson\u2014at times emotionally ragged and admittedly drinking too much while coping with the challenges of raising a child with cystic fibrosis\u2014had a tendency to \"freeze a little bit.\") For his own part, said Hunt, \"I knew I was a great supporting player... but Jim and Frank had separated themselves and that in turn was at the expense of some of the others.\" Still, Hunt tried to be diplomatic. \"Jim owned the company, and Frank was an essential.... You can't focus on everyone.\"\n\nOz understood the bruised feelings. \"I was the workhorse, the go-to guy,\" he said. \"I would say to Jim, 'You've got to give stuff to the other guys!' I worked really hard\u2014Jim and I worked hard\u2014but I sometimes felt I was getting all the work, and I know the other guys did, too.\" Performances aside, there were other divisive differences as well. For one thing, Oz had the additional perk of receiving a \"creative consultant\" credit on _The Muppet Show_ , which meant, as Oz described it, \"I didn't write, but I got to sit in on all the writing sessions and meetings and didn't get thrown out. And I would let them know when I thought something didn't work.\" That was putting it mildly. \"He would sit right with the writers... and he would just slash line after line to condense it,\" said Lazer, \"and the writers resented it, but they knew it was for their own good, too, because if the character was great, they were great.\"\n\nIn many respects, the elevation of Oz was due to Lazer, who made the decision to provide Oz with his own dressing room, as well as with his own separate performance credit, tagging \"and Frank Oz\" at the end of the alphabetical list of Muppet performers in _The Muppet Show_ 's closing credits. \"The other people resented it,\" Lazer admitted later, but he never regretted the decision. Oz was responsible for too many of the major Muppet characters, and Lazer \"wanted to give Frank this kind of respect.\" Hunt may have rolled his eyes, but he eventually came to understand that treating Oz with a certain level of respect didn't mean Jim didn't value the rest of his team. \"There's a sub-level that makes you think that, 'Well, these are the _important_ ones, and we're just here,' \" Hunt said later. \"It took me years to realize the untruth of that.\"\n\nUltimately, thought Lazer, the dynamics between the Muppet performers were much like the dynamics between the Muppets themselves. \"[The Muppets] may be fighting with one another and have interpersonal problems, but they were always united in their support of one another,\" said Lazer. \"And this is what Jim does. There's always a little hell going on, because everyone's vying for Jim's attention. But somehow, when he pulled it together, we'd support one another and we'd go on.\"\n\nAnd go on they did, sprinting through a frantic spring schedule in which they completed eight episodes of _The Muppet Show_ in six weeks. As the show entered its third season, the Muppets were more popular than ever, and ITC's Abe Mandell gleefully reported that _The Muppet Show_ had now been sold in 106 countries, with a total audience of 235 million (a number Henson Associates willingly circulated, even as some privately joked that Mandell would soon be claiming a viewership larger than the world's population). It could even be seen by millions of viewers inside the Soviet sphere, including Hungary and Romania, where the show ran with subtitles, and East Germany, which dubbed the episodes in the native language (\"I hope they manage to make the jokes funny,\" Jim said nervously. \"A language gap is always a problem.\") \"[It's] almost certainly the most popular television entertainment now being produced on Earth,\" declared _Time_ magazine matter-of-factly, and called Jim \"the rarest of creatures in the imitative and adaptive world of entertainment: an originator.\" To others, he was, quite simply, \"the new Walt Disney.\" Jim would likely have argued that he wasn't\u2014at least not yet. Disney had conquered film, then moved into television. Jim had conquered TV, but had yet to make the leap onto the big screen. But now, with work on the first half of the third season of _The Muppet Show_ completed in mid-May, Jim's march toward the movie screen wouldn't take much longer.\n\nEarlier in the spring, Jim had brought in Jerry Juhl to polish Jack Burns's rough movie script, hoping that by stirring the two together, the final mix would capture both Burns's rat-a-tat joke sensibilities and Juhl's warmth for the characters. Paul Williams, too, had been pressed back into service, though after his positive experience of working with Jim on _Emmet Otter_ , it didn't take much persuading for Jim to get Williams on board. \"Working with Jim Henson was probably the easiest collaboration of my life,\" said Williams later. \"[He] had a sweetness about him, and I don't think he ever got emotionally pulled off course. But I've also never worked with anybody who spent less time over my shoulder.\" Jim never even insisted on hearing demos of the songs as Williams wrote them, merely shrugging that he would \"hear them in the studio\" when he showed up to record them. Williams's only other request, then\u2014and one that Jim willingly granted\u2014was that he be permitted to work with composer Kenny Ascher, allowing Williams to fully devote himself to writing the songs while Ascher undertook the more time-consuming task of scoring them.\n\nThroughout May and June, Jim jetted back and forth between Los Angeles and New York, sometimes twice a week, to finalize the script, oversee production of the sets in California, and meet with director James Frawley, who had spent several days with Jim in London early in the spring to get a feel for the Muppet sensibilities. Jim had wanted to direct _The Muppet Movie_ himself, but had been grudgingly persuaded by the argument that it was better to have an experienced director at the helm of the Muppets' first foray into film. \"Up until that time they had never shot film. They had only shot tape, and they had never shot outside the studio,\" said Frawley. \"So [Jim] knew that he needed somebody who was a filmmaker and knew what to do with the camera.\" Juhl\u2014who had swallowed his own pride when the more experienced Burns had been installed as head writer of _The Muppet Show_ in its first season\u2014understood Jim's disappointment at being bumped in favor of Frawley. \"[It] was actually a very frustrating experience for him in that he wanted to direct,\" said Juhl. \" _So_ much. It drove him crazy.\"\n\nRegardless, Frawley\u2014who had headed up several small comedies like _The Big Bus_ and _The Christian Licorice Store_ \u2014was a fine choice. With a visual sensibility similar to Jim's\u2014he had cut his teeth directing episodes of _The Monkees_ , where he employed the same sort of quick-cut editing style Jim had used on _Time Piece\u2014_ and a low-key sense of humor honed by several years in an improv troupe, Frawley and Jim were a good fit. \"He felt pretty good about my sense of humor,\" remembered Frawley. \"It seemed like a good combination of talents for his Muppets. I had a very childlike approach to my work, and the Muppets fit in well with that.\"\n\nOne of the first orders of business was to see how the Muppets would look when they were filmed outside, in the real world, under natural light instead of the more controlled, and forgiving, environment of the television studio. On a gray, drizzly spring day, Jim, Oz, and Frawley piled into Jim's car and drove north into the English countryside, pulling over to film anything remotely interesting. With Frawley's camera rolling, Jim and Oz poked Kermit, Fozzie, Piggy, and Animal up into the low branches of trees, peeked them around corners, sat them behind the wheel of the car, and chatted with real cows, who stared at Kermit so intently that Jim broke down in giggles. \"We're taking the characters out of the show and bringing them into the real world,\" Jim later explained. \"Nobody has ever done anything like this using our technique.\" After reviewing the nearly fifteen minutes of footage, they proclaimed themselves \"very excited\" with the results. It was going to work\u2014just as Jim had known it would.\n\nDuring the final week of June 1978, Jim hopscotched across the country one more time, attending Lisa's high school graduation ceremony in New York\u2014she had already been accepted to Harvard, an accomplishment Jim noted proudly in his journal with the appropriate number of exclamation points\u2014then spent two days in Lubbock, Texas, at a Puppeteers of America convention, before finally arriving at Bernie Brillstein's beach house in Los Angeles just in time to celebrate the Fourth of July. The next morning\u2014a bright and sunny Wednesday\u2014cameras rolled on _The Muppet Movie_.\n\nFor eighty-seven days over the summer and fall of 1978, Jim and the Muppet performers sweated in the sun on locations in California and New Mexico, rolling around on their backs on furniture dollies or chairs with the legs cut off and wheels attached\u2014almost anything that would roll and keep them out of the view of Frawley's cameras. While the big screen allowed the Muppets the space to move about freely in the real world\u2014many times out in the open where even their lower bodies could finally be seen\u2014keeping the Muppet performers hidden from view required them to squeeze into even tighter and more claustrophobic spaces than ever. For some scenes, rectangular pits would be dug in which the puppeteers would stand to perform. Other times, the pits would be covered with a piece of plywood\u2014which would then be covered by sand or dirt\u2014and the puppeteers would stick their arms up through holes in the wood, watching themselves on monitors from their shallow underground crypt. As a first-time director of puppeteers, Frawley was surprisingly in tune with the physical demands placed on the performers. Jim, who had once made a particularly inconsiderate director stand holding his arm over his head for ten minutes to understand the pain involved in performing, found a sympathetic ally in Frawley, who would call out \"Muppets relax!\" between takes so the puppeteers could rest their aching arms and shoulders. \"If you don't dig sore arms,\" said Richard Hunt, \"don't work with puppets.\"\n\nIn Frawley's view, the most difficult sequences were those in which the Muppets drove or rode in cars. \"[The Muppets] had never been shot outdoors, or in a car or real locations,\" said Frawley, \"and we pretty much had to invent it as we went along. Every shot had never been done before, because nobody had taken Fozzie Bear and Miss Piggy and Kermit and put them in a Studebaker.\" With four puppeteers and their monitors scrunched together in the front seat just under the dashboard, there was no room for a driver\u2014so Frawley's solution was to rig the car so it could be driven from the trunk by a stunt driver who watched the road on a monitor.\n\nBut it was Jim\u2014in what Frawley called \"the single most difficult sequence to execute\"\u2014who ended up in the most cramped spot of all. In one of the film's most memorable moments, a long swooping camera shot eases out of the clouds over a swamp, floats down through the trees, and eventually closes in on Kermit, sitting on a log in the middle of the swamp, strumming a banjo and singing \"Rainbow Connection\"\u2014a pitch-perfect tune written by Williams and Ascher, who had been directed by Jim to give Kermit a song similar to \"When You Wish Upon a Star\" from Disney's _Pinocchio_. The take is seamless, slowly closing in on Kermit surrounded by water, in another of those _How'd they do that?_ moments that Jim loved. In a similar scene in _Emmet Otter_ , when Emmet and his mother had sung as they rowed a boat downriver, Jim had used remote-controlled puppets. In this case, however, the puppetry is so flawless\u2014Kermit is clearly _not_ radio-controlled\u2014that it seems the only way it could possibly have been accomplished would be for Jim to have performed Kermit from underwater.\n\nAs it turns out, that's just what he did.\n\nIn a water tank on a movie studio backlot, Jim had created an enormous and entirely convincing swamp set, with real trees\u2014shipped in from the Georgia bayous\u2014drooping their branches into a massive tank full of muddy-looking water. Jim's idea was to sink a custom-made diving bell into the tank, lower himself inside, then perform Kermit up on the surface by sticking his arm up through a rubber sleeve in the top of the diving bell. It almost worked perfectly\u2014but not quite. For one thing, the water in the studio tank was only four feet deep, while the diving bell being constructed\u2014which Jim had initially intended to sink into a real swamp, before abandoning the idea\u2014was nearly five feet tall. Rather than reconfigure the entire set with a deeper tank, Jim simply directed the construction crew to remove eighteen inches from the diving bell. It was going to make a tight fit that much tighter, but Jim wasn't worried. \"Well, if I can fit,\" he said with a shrug, \"I'll do it.\"\n\nOnce the diving bell was secured in place underwater and Kermit and his log were arranged on top, Jim lowered himself into the cramped space, folding himself inside swami-style, with his legs crossed, his knees up, and a monitor and a copy of the script cradled between his legs. When the top of the tank was closed and sealed, Jim could reach up through the rubber sleeve and slide his right arm inside Kermit while operating Kermit's banjo-strumming left hand with a wire rod snaked down into the diving bell. Even though oxygen was being pumped in through a hose and Jim was always in contact with the surface through his headset, it was like being buried alive\u2014\"no place for someone with claustrophobia,\" Jim said. Thirteen-year-old John Henson, visiting the set for the day, thought \"it was a bit frightening\" watching his dad go into the tank and disappear beneath the surface of the water. At one point during the five days it took to film the sequence, Jim was sealed underwater for over three hours\u2014and when he was finally helped out, it took some time before he could get his legs to straighten out again. But that was Jim's way, said Goelz. \"[He] would never ask us to do anything that he hadn't done himself or wasn't willing to do himself.\"\n\nGenerally, Jim's philosophy was \"simple is good\"\u2014though Jim's definition of _simple_ could swing wildly. For the scenes in _The Muppet Movie_ in which Kermit rides a bicycle, the simple marionette control system\u2014used reliably on _The Muppets Valentine Show_ five years earlier\u2014was deemed unconvincing, and was scrapped in favor of a combined marionette and radio control mechanism. Perhaps more notably, in a scene in which Animal ingests one of Dr. Bunsen Honeydew's InstaGrow pills and erupts, larger than life, through the top of a building, Jim had insisted on having a gigantic Animal puppet head built, which Oz could manipulate, rather than using the regular-sized puppet on a miniature set. \"We always used to kid Jim that after telling everybody 'simple is good,' he would turn around and try to produce the most complicated work in the world,\" said Juhl, \"and just about wipe out all of us\u2014him most of all\u2014in the process.\"\n\nThe performers were genuinely excited by the prospect of working with many of the twenty-four celebrities making cameo appearances in the film, including Orson Welles (playing \"Lew Lord,\" a nod to Lord Lew Grade), Mel Brooks, Bob Hope, Madeline Kahn, and Richard Pryor. The real thrill for the Muppet crew, however, was working with one\u2014or maybe it was two\u2014of Jim's boyhood idols, Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy. At the behest of his daughter, Candice, Bergen had been a guest on _The Muppet Show_ during its second season, where his presence alone had been nothing short of An Event. For puppeteers, Bergen was their Elvis, the one who had made their craft cool and who had inspired many of them in their chosen career. \"Everybody was eagerly awaiting him,\" said Lazer. \"I never saw our puppeteers or Jim or Frank in such awe.\" Watching Bergen perform, said Juhl, was like going \"right back to our childhoods. It was wonderful.... And then, of course, the relationship between him and Jim was very special.\" Jim and Bergen working together, said Juhl, was \"like passing on the mantle\" from Bergen to Jim and the next generation of puppeteers.\n\nBergen wasn't well during the shooting of _The Muppet Movie_ , but happily made a cameo appearance with Charlie McCarthy as judges at a beauty pageant won by Miss Piggy. It was the last footage that would ever be shot of Bergen, who died on September 30, 1978, at seventy-five. Jim spoke fondly of Bergen at his funeral that fall\u2014\"We take up where he left off, and we thank him for leaving this delightful legacy of love and humor and whimsy\"\u2014and would dedicate _The Muppet Movie_ to Bergen's memory. Later, Bergen's widow, Frances, and daughter, Candice, presented Jim with a framed photograph of Bergen and Charlie engraved, \"Dear Jim\u2014Keep the Magic Alive.\"\n\nAs if to confirm Bergen's faith, in mid-September, _The Muppet Show_ \u2014nominated for five Emmy Awards in its second season\u2014took home the Emmy for Outstanding Comedy-Variety or Music Series. \"Received EMMY,\" Jim wrote in his journal, drawing a bold box around the four capital letters, and he, Lazer, Oz, and Goelz accepted the trophies on behalf of the team, beaming proudly in black tie. If the size of its viewing audience hadn't made the case already, the Muppets were now officially the best thing on television.\n\nThe Emmy excitement carried over onto the movie set where, as was their habit, the Muppet performers remained in character between takes\u2014and Frawley more than once caught himself issuing directions to Kermit and Miss Piggy, rather than Jim or Oz, as he squinted through the camera eyepiece. Disagreements were minor and, for the most part, usually artistic in nature. At one point, Jim and Oz had gotten into a slight dustup regarding _The Muppet Movie_ 's villain, a smarmy Colonel Sanders\u2013wannabe named Doc Hopper, who aggressively pursues Kermit as the mascot for his chain of fast food frog legs restaurants. Jim was convinced that, deep down, Hopper wasn't a bad guy and that somewhere along the way, Hopper should be redeemed. \"Even the most worldly of our characters is innocent,\" Jim had once said. \"Our villains are innocent, really\u2014and it's that innocence, I think, that is our connection to the audience.\" While that was likely true in most cases, Oz\u2014who was nearly as cynical as Jim was idealistic\u2014didn't take long to consider his response. \"Bullshit,\" he said. Hopper would remain unredeemed.\n\nThat character point, however, was small compared to what was, quite literally, one of the biggest problems in the movie: personnel. For _The Muppet Movie_ 's musical finale, Jim planned to feature more than 250 Muppet characters, representing nearly every puppet available in the New York and London Muppet workshops. When filming large crowds of Muppets on television\u2014such as the theater audience of _The Muppet Show_ \u2014Jim had usually peppered the set with a number of motionless puppet extras, propped up in the background on wire frames or stuffed with wadding, to fill the spaces while the puppeteers performed around them. On the big screen, however, there would be no unmoving extras allowed; Jim wanted every one of his 250 puppets moving and singing, which would require a considerably higher number of hands than the core group of Muppet performers could provide.\n\nUndeterred, Jim put out a casting call through the Los Angeles Guild of the Puppeteers of America, and managed to wrangle nearly 150 performers to supplement the Muppet team, Henson family, and film crew. Puppeteers reporting to CBS Studio Center's Stage 15\u2014including director John Landis and a young Disney animator named Tim Burton\u2014were handed one, sometimes two Muppets to perform, and given a number that corresponded to a chalked spot on the floor of an enormous pit, seventeen feet across and six feet deep, that had been constructed on the soundstage. Each performer found his or her appropriate space on the floor of the pit, and when Frawley called out \"Muppets up!\" up came a sea of colorful Muppets\u2014including King Ploobis from _Saturday Night Live_ , several characters from _Sesame Street_ , and the entire River Bottom Nightmare Band from _Emmet Otter_ \u2014making up the largest puppet cast ever assembled on film.\n\nBy late October, most of the film work for _The Muppet Movie_ was complete. That left Jim just enough time to return to London to tape six more installments of _The Muppet Show_ before Christmas, including an exceptional episode guest-starring singer and activist Harry Belafonte. As a longtime admirer of Belafonte\u2014Jim and Jane had attended one of his performances in Washington, D.C., on one of their early dates\u2014Jim had worked hard to woo the showman, offering him significant creative input, and taking time off during the shooting of _The Muppet Movie_ to meet with him personally. Belafonte, too, wanted his appearance to be exceptional, and proposed to Jim that the show might provide an opportunity \"to take a look at the lore and history of other worlds, other places.\" In early November, Belafonte and the Muppet team created one of _The Muppet Show_ 's most remarkable and memorable moments, a lively five minutes of song and dance to Belafonte's \"Turn the World Around,\" celebrating the oneness of everything. Belafonte later referred to his _Muppet Show_ experience as \"sheer joy,\" and would remain friendly with Jim for the rest of his life.\n\nWith four episodes still to be completed for _The Muppet Show_ 's third season in late 1978, Jim opted to spend the holidays back in the United States, throwing a Christmas party for the Muppet crew at the posh Player's Club in Manhattan, performing with Joe Raposo at a White House children's party, then skiing for several days in Vermont before heading back to London with Jane and Lisa just after the first of the year. During the previous fall, Jim had moved out of the flat in Frognal Gardens and was looking for a more permanent residence in the Hampstead area. In the meantime, at the urging of actor James Coburn, who had made a cameo appearance in _The Muppet Movie_ , Jim moved into a house in Holly Village\u2014a \"darling little castle,\" Jane called it\u2014owned by Coburn and girlfriend Lynsey de Paul. The Hensons stayed only long enough for Jim to wrap up the four remaining _Muppet Show_ episodes\u2014but before leaving in early February, he and Jane scouted several nearby properties as potential homes, eventually submitting a contract for a Victorian-era place in Church Row. To Jim's disappointment and slight confusion, he would lose the house to another bidder at the last minute, but vowed to keep looking.\n\nBack in New York, however, Jim had successfully sealed the deal on a new headquarters for Henson Associates, a beautiful 1929 double townhouse at 117 East 69th Street in Manhattan. Jim had purchased the five-story building for $600,000 in November 1978, but zoning issues had slowed the renovation of the space for several months. For one thing, Jim wanted to substantially reconfigure the basement and first floor to create a spacious, bi-level Muppet workshop, with several skylights letting natural light into what would normally have been an underground area. \"I want to have a place for a creative nucleus,\" wrote Jim\u2014and once the zoning issues for such an ambitious remodeling were cleared, no detail was too small for Jim to lavish with care and attention. Colorful photo murals were installed in waiting areas and on landings. The Henson Associates logo\u2014a large, lowercase HA, with an exclamation point at the end\u2014was inlaid in brass into the marble floor of the main hall. Furniture was handcrafted, drapes were made from tie-dyed canvas or Chinese silks, and walls were painted in bright reds or warm beiges, with gold-toned trim and molding. It was a place as sprawling as Jim, as quirky as his sense of humor, and as colorful as one of his printed shirts. \"I didn't want a pretentious space or one with a feeling of opulence,\" said Jim. \"Instead, I wanted a happy, functioning space with character and warmth.\"\n\nFor many, though, the most memorable feature was the gleaming spiral staircase that ran up through the center of the townhouse, circling toward a large stained-glass skylight dubbed \"The View from the Lily Pad,\" meant to reflect what Kermit might see peering up through the trees from the swamp. The staircase was both the spine and the heart of the organization\u2014all offices and conference rooms on each floor radiated off the stairs, and Jim came to regard the open stairwell as a kind of vertical telephone, leaning over the railing from his third-floor office to call to staff on the floors above or below. The staircase, he thought, broke down the \"stratification\" of being located on different floors\u2014and more often than not, Jim would hold his meetings while standing on the stairs, leaning against the curved railing with his arms folded, nodding and listening.\n\nFormally opening the new Muppet headquarters\u2014or One Seventeen, as it would be casually called, in deference to its street address\u2014was only one part of a busy spring. Jim was in full publicity mode, trying to generate a buzz of anticipation for _The Muppet Movie_ , scheduled for release in the coming summer. He had quickly put into production a variety show called _The Muppets Go Hollywood_ \u2014essentially an hour-long promotion for the upcoming movie\u2014which had taken all of four weeks to write, rehearse, and tape. In April, the Muppets hosted _The Tonight Show_ , and Jim had even arranged for Kermit to make a brief appearance at the end of a Cheerios commercial to remind viewers of the film. That particular bit of self-promotion had raised the hackles of Joan Cooney, who warned Jim\u2014in a scolding reminiscent of the one administered by TV critic Jack Gould regarding Kermit's appearance as a pitchman during _Hey Cinderella!_ \u2014that using Kermit in television advertising \"could cause us embarrassment [at CTW].\" Jim assured Cooney that Kermit's appearance was related solely to the promotion of _The Muppet Movie_ and could not in any way be construed as _Sesame Street_ \u2013related advertising. Cooney seemed less than convinced, but let the matter drop.\n\nJim returned to London in late April to begin work on season four of _The Muppet Show_. Mindful that much of his time in the coming year would be occupied with promoting _The Muppet Movie_ , Jim worked at a breakneck pace, taping six episodes in less than a month. Some days, he got no sleep at all\u2014and yet, to the amazement of those around him, never seemed to lose his ability to focus intently on a task or keep a level head. While crew members and production assistants were \"running around screaming\" and wondering how all the work could possibly get done, Jim was \"wandering around in the middle of it all, perfectly calm, perfectly content,\" said Juhl. \"If _The Muppet Show_ had a basketball team, the score would always be Frog 99, Chaos 98.\"\n\nAs always, even with the hectic pace, Jim thrived on the work. \"I love my work and because I enjoy it, it doesn't really feel like work,\" he said. \"Thus I spend most of my time working.\" His ethic was contagious\u2014\"You had to try to keep up with the guy\u2014it seemed only fair,\" remarked Jerry Juhl\u2014but many of the longest-serving Muppet performers also came to understand that Jim's devotion to his work came at a personal cost. \"For such a giving, generous, nonstop creative person, Jim really didn't have any friends,\" said Richard Hunt. \"He was friends with the guys he worked with.... But I think he was so much involved in his work that it didn't help [or] allow him the time or the luxury of developing true, deep friendships.\"\n\nJuhl thought he understood. \"It isn't that Jim didn't have friends,\" he said, \"it was just that... there was no separation of life and work for Jim.... He knew very few people who weren't involved in his projects or involved in his business. And usually what socializing he did almost inevitably he did with people who he was working on projects with.\" Hunt, who had spent as much time as anyone socializing with Jim outside work, admitted that some of the most meaningful and memorable times spent with Jim were those private moments on the set. Jim and Hunt would often spend hours crammed shoulder to shoulder in a tiny space as they performed Statler and Waldorf heckling from their box seats\u2014\"and that's when we would have these talks,\" said Hunt. As the rest of the crew worked on the stage floor below, Jim and Hunt were in near isolation \"in this little enclosed thing with curtains shut, and in a little booth together. We would talk about our families, and our hopes and desires and politics.\" \"[Jim] was very close to us all,\" said Juhl. \"He just conducted his life in a different way than most people did. He just couldn't understand about this whole thing called _work_ , and why people didn't like it, and why people thought there was something wrong with working.\"\n\nIn the spring of 1979, Jane Henson\u2014who had _long_ accepted that work was Jim's first priority\u2014joined Jim in London, moving into a large, white-fronted Georgian-style townhouse they had recently purchased together on Downshire Hill, just a short walk from Hampstead Heath. It was \"a great house,\" said Jane fondly, with a formal music room and plenty of space for gatherings, though its backyard looked into the offices and down onto the impound lot of a police station. She and Cheryl, John, and Heather would live with Jim in London for a year\u2014Lisa and Brian would stay in the United States to attend school\u2014and while Cheryl worked in the Muppet workshop, John and Heather were enrolled in the American Community School in London, allowing Jim to punctuate his busy workweek with family walks on Hampstead Heath and side trips to the countryside. As Jim and Jane wrapped up the paperwork to purchase the Downshire Hill house, Jim also closed the deal on a former postage sorting facility just across the street at 1B, intending to use it as a workshop for the more realistic puppets and scenery needed for _The Crystal_ , which was still in the planning stages.\n\nOn May 31, 1979, _The Muppet Movie_ made its world premiere at the Leicester Square Theatre in London, at a glittering event attended by British pop stars and Princess Anne. Jim showed up with Jane and John, along with his stepmother, Bobby, all grinning broadly as flashbulbs crackled around them. \"Great evening,\" Jim remarked in his journal with typical understatement. As the movie's opening scene played in the darkened theater, with the camera gliding down through the clouds to find Kermit playing banjo in the swamp, fourteen-year-old John Henson burst into tears. \"I cried in the opening,\" said John later. \"I still do.... [It was] just so powerful.\"\n\nBetween the new house in Hampstead, the hardworking Muppet workshop at Elstree and now _The Muppet Movie_ making its premiere in a London theater, many of the employees in the New York office of Henson Associates were beginning to wonder whether Jim's priorities had shifted to the upstart London division. In truth, they probably had. With _The Muppet Show_ still based at Elstree and the newly purchased Downshire Hill workshop gearing up to take on work for _The Crystal_ , London had become home for Jim's television and film production\u2014and \"everything follows production,\" said Lazer. Meanwhile, the New York office had evolved into the _de facto_ business arm of the organization. Gone were the days when Jim could make almost every major decision personally. \"He'd been used to running a very small company where that was part of his job,\" said Al Gottesman, \"but he soon came to realize that he had to trust other people with some of those decisions.\" Long used to Jim's direct input on almost every major decision, the New York staff was now trying to adjust to its new long-distance relationship.\n\n\"Al [Gottesman] was in New York running the... licensing, publishing and administration and everything,\" said Lazer; meanwhile, the London crew was working directly with Jim on television and film projects, building props and performing puppets. While there was still plenty of creative work to be done in licensing and publishing in New York\u2014led largely by the versatile Michael Frith\u2014many felt that if there was any real fun to be had in the organization, it was going to be had in London with Jim. \"There was no one here [in New York] to say 'you did a good job'... to praise them and to make them feel part of the whole\u2014part of Jim,\" said Lazer. \"Because they all wanted to be part of Jim's work and needed Jim's _attaboys_.\"\n\nWherever Jim was, then, tended to feel special and needed, while wherever he _wasn't_ tended to feel neglected\u2014and more often than not, where he _wasn't_ was New York. Frank Oz, who had seen Jim's frustration with the New York\u2013London dynamic, only had so much patience with that kind of neediness. \"Sure, the more Jim was in New York, the nicer it was for them,\" said Oz with a hint of annoyance. \"But he had overhead. He had to work. And that meant he had to be in London.\"\n\nJim tried his best to soothe any bruised feelings\u2014in his view, everyone at Henson Associates, whether they were puppeteers or accountants, was creative and valuable. \"We are primarily a company of creative people, whose art we are helping to bring to the world,\" he explained\u2014and while art may have been the heart of the organization, it was money and merchandising that kept the blood pumping. \"We recognize that business enables art 'to happen,' and that business plays an essential role in communicating art to a broad audience,\" he said. \"As both artists and businesspersons, we understand the value of both worlds, and so we bring them together in a way that facilitates the realization of our artistic vision.\"\n\nCompounding the problem\u2014if you could call it that\u2014was that as the company became more successful, it required even more employees in New York, working in more divisions\u2014personnel, finance, office management\u2014to keep things running. \"It seems that I'm bigger now than I thought I would be,\" Jim told a reporter from _The New York Times_ , estimating that his staff numbered \"between 40 and 50.\" Actually, by the summer of 1979, he had seventy-one employees, including eleven puppeteers and thirty designers and builders\u2014and the more employees there were, the less time and attention Jim could bestow on each one. Yet, each \"wanted to be part of the family, part of the team,\" said Lazer. \"People needed his approval. Even _I_ did.\" Consequently, anyone who had spoken personally with Jim\u2014who had gotten a moment of the one-on-one interaction so many of them craved\u2014tended to lord it over other staffers. That could make things touchy for Gottesman as he tried to manage the New York office in Jim's own low-key style. \"Jim was not preoccupied by office organization charts, so he would call and speak to whomever he wished,\" said Gottesman. \"So there was a little of that tension... the person at a meeting who had the most clout at that moment would be the person who said, 'I just spoke to Jim.' \"\n\nWhether he liked it or not, with his sweet, soft-spoken demeanor and casual dress, Jim was regarded by his employees as something more than just the boss; they saw him as a friend or even as a father figure. \"He could _not_ handle it,\" Lazer said. \"That was a heavy responsibility, because he wasn't a daddy.\" Yet while Jim may not have wanted to be a father figure, he still couldn't help but feel a sense of paternal obligation to his employees and performers\u2014some of whom, like Hunt and Whitmire, had joined the organization while still in their teens. \"I think Jim felt... that we have a responsibility to each other,\" said Richard Hunt. \"He took it very seriously, his responsibilities toward his employees. When he couldn't help them and he had to let people go, it was devastating.\" Lazer told Jim he had to change the way he viewed his employees. \"Stop calling this company a _family_ ,\" Lazer said. \"Call it a _team_ , because you can fire team members. You can't fire family.\" That was still easier said than done, especially when it came to employees who really did feel like family\u2014like Richard Hunt.\n\nOne evening, while attending a dinner party in London, Hunt had openly bad-mouthed a _Muppet Show_ guest star, which caught the ear of a journalist who promptly splattered Hunt's remarks all over London. Lazer was incensed. \"It was a major thing... Jim was furious,\" said Lazer, \"[because] all of the [goodwill] we had built up all this time with our image and our stars... could be lost.\" While responsibility for firing or discipline generally fell to Lazer, playing bad cop to Jim's good cop, for serious offenses like this\u2014where Jim's own reputation was at stake\u2014Lazer felt Jim was obligated to get involved. In this case, Lazer planned to call Hunt into his office in the Muppet Suite where he intended to bawl out the puppeteer, then turn him over to Jim in the adjoining office for a formal reprimand. With Jim listening from just behind his office door, \"I got Richard in,\" said Lazer, \"and I wiped him out.\" Hunt began sobbing uncontrollably. \"I'm sorry, Richard,\" Lazer said sternly, \"but you have to face Jim now.\" Hunt had barely pushed open the door to Jim's office when Jim rushed over and wrapped him up in a bear hug. \"He just couldn't do it,\" said Lazer. \"He couldn't handle confrontations at all.\"\n\nThe New York office would feel a little less neglected in June, when Jim returned to the city, partly to oversee the opening of an exhibit called _The Art of the Muppets_ at the Library for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center, but mostly so he and Oz could promote _The Muppet Movie_. Lord Grade was marketing the film aggressively, pumping $6 million into publicity\u2014if the film bombed, joked Jim, \"we'll all lose our shirts\"\u2014and Jim and Oz were ferried from one interview to another with Kermit and Miss Piggy on their arms, gamely bantering with reporters. Most questions now were directed at Miss Piggy, who had clearly surpassed Kermit in popularity. Though Oz would usually deftly turn the discussion back to Jim and Kermit, it had become clear, even to Jim, that the Pig had taken on a life of her own. \"Piggy's become a phenomenon in the last few years and I think when we introduced her we had no idea she'd take off like she has,\" said Jim. \"It's a personality that Frank Oz has created that people somehow identify with and either love or hate.\"\n\n_The Muppet Movie_ opened in the United States on June 22, 1979\u2014but Jim was already back in production on _The Muppet Show_ in London and thus attended neither the New York nor the Los Angeles premieres, simply noting in his journal that the reception was \"Great!\" The critics loved it\u2014typical was the review from the eminent film critic Vincent Canby, writing in _The New York Times_ , who hailed Jim for successfully blending \"unbridled amiability... [with] intelligence and wit.\" Meanwhile, audiences made it one of the most profitable films of the decade, grossing over $65 million in its initial release\u2014not a bad return on Grade's initial $8 million investment.\n\nIts success wasn't surprising; as Canby had noted, the film had both heart and brains\u2014and like _The Muppet Show_ , its appeal cut across age groups. _The Muppet Movie_ was an affectionate nod to old Hollywood, with running gags and barroom brawls, dance numbers and slow-motion romantic montages, as well as mad scientists, thrown pies, and characters who winked knowingly at the camera. At its center, it was also a buddy movie, a tip of the hat to the Bob Hope\u2013Bing Crosby _Road_ pictures, with Kermit and Fozzie encountering each Muppet character\u2014and adding them to their growing entourage\u2014as they drove across the country to Hollywood. Along the way, Kermit dodges Doc Hopper and his plans for turning Kermit into a frog legs pitchman, before finally landing a Hollywood contract\u2014a moment, said director Frawley proudly, \"that brings tears to your eyes.\"\n\nIn a way, _The Muppet Movie_ was also Jim's story\u2014for Juhl had cleverly embedded elements of Jim's own life and personality into the plot. \"I guess you could say that mine has been somewhat of a fairytale story,\" admitted Jim. \"It's been a long career with a steady and slow increase in fame and prosperity. It has really been very gratifying with no real surprises.\" Like Kermit, Jim had left the swamps of Mississippi for the glitter of television and film, had put together his own \"clan of whackos\" to work with, and had struggled to break away from the clutches of the advertising business, which didn't want to see him leave. Kermit's motivation in heading for Hollywood wasn't so far removed from Jim's own outlook, either\u2014rather than solely seeking fame and fortune, Kermit sees it as an opportunity to entertain and \"make millions of people happy.\" Finally, in the film's climactic scene\u2014a _High Noon\u2013type_ showdown between Kermit and Doc Hopper\u2014Kermit delivers a defiant monologue that so clearly defined Jim's own personal code that Juhl could have lifted it verbatim from any of his countless conversations with Jim over the last two decades:\n\nYeah, well, I've got a dream, too. But it's about singing and dancing and making people happy. That's the kind of dream that gets better the more people you share it with. And, well... I've found a whole bunch of friends who have the same dream. And it kind of makes us like a family.\n\nFor agent Bernie Brillstein, there was never any doubt that he was seeing Jim's story on-screen. \"Kermit was Jim,\" said Brillstein plainly. \"Jim believed in the entire world.\"\n\nPlot aside, everyone, it seemed, was impressed at how convincingly Jim had integrated the Muppets into the real world. \"I'm in particular awe of the techniques by which these hand puppets are made to walk, run, sing and play musical instruments,\" wrote Canby. \"As do the other actors in the movie, we very quickly come to accept the Muppets as real people.\" Jim cheerfully explained that making the Muppets seem real involved \"trying to fool the audience into thinking they're living in a whole world and that there's a whole reality to the world. And so it's a kind of game that we play with the audience.\" Richard Hunt, however, was less elegant in his explanation. \"The reason those characters are appealing is because we're good actors,\" insisted Hunt. But even that, wrote _Chicago Sun-Times_ film critic Roger Ebert, was more than he wanted to know. \"If you can figure out how they were able to show Kermit pedaling across the screen,\" wrote Ebert, \"then you are less a romantic than I am: I prefer to believe he did it himself.\"\n\nWith his creations moving with a seeming life of their own on the big screen, comparisons with Walt Disney were again inevitable\u2014and now, perhaps, apt. But Jim was still having none of it. \"I'm slightly uncomfortable with all the people who want to say things like that about me, because I like Disney, but I don't ever particularly want to do what he did,\" said Jim. \"He built this great, huge empire. I'm not particularly inclined to do that. You get that large a thing going and I'm not sure that the quality of the work can be maintained.\" He also continued to dismiss questions about the Muppets' net worth. \"It's important to me that the audience doesn't think of us in terms of figures,\" he told _Time_ magazine. \"I don't want people looking at the Muppets and thinking 'How much are they worth?' It's just not us. It could be destructive.\"\n\nTo celebrate the success of _The Muppet Movie_ , Jim threw a costume party at the new house on Downshire Hill, inviting guests to attend in Elizabethan-era attire. Many of the Muppet crew raided the wardrobe department at ATV for their costumes, and showed up at Downshire Hill to find Jim warmly greeting his guests dressed as a king. Fifteen-year-old Brian Henson, taking a quick trip to London during summer break, came straight to the house from the airport and found the party still in full swing well into the evening. Jet-lagged and groggy, he dutifully pulled on a jester costume Jim had put aside for him and joined the party. \"We were the best party givers in the world!\" crowed Lazer. All that was needed, said Lazer, was \"good food and drink,\" though it was generally Jim's presence that ensured the necessary \"happy environment.\"\n\nWork on the fourth season of _The Muppet Show_ continued through the summer, until August 6, when ATV's technicians\u2014always touchy to begin with\u2014suddenly went on strike, following the lead of London's public sector unions, which had successfully leveraged their own strike for higher pay during the previous winter. Jim and the Muppet team had just begun working on an episode with Andy Williams when \"the electricians broke for tea,\" recalled Bonnie Erickson, \"and they never came back.\" Grade's television stations went dark. Anyone tuning in to _The Muppet Show_ that week saw only an on-screen apology, promising to resume programming \"as soon as possible.\" Until then, production was indefinitely postponed.\n\nEven as others huffed around him, Jim was unfazed; it was out of his hands, a matter to be resolved by the unions and television company executives. With ATV closed down, Jim left for an extended vacation with his family, spending a week in late August in the British Virgin Islands, before heading with them to the English seaside resort of Blackpool, where the Muppets had been given the honor of turning on the Blackpool Illuminations\u2014a gala known as the Big Switch On\u2014for the spectacle's one hundredth anniversary. The town had gone all out for Jim, integrating the Muppets into the gigantic light display along Blackpool's central promenade, and Jim and Goelz performed as Kermit and Gonzo at the opening ceremonies, throwing the switch together to light up the town. Jim loved it.\n\nWith the strike still unresolved in September, Jim returned to the United States for a week to attend the Emmy Awards\u2014where _The Muppet Show_ lost to _Steve and Eydie Celebrate Irving Berlin_ \u2014and to see fifteen-year-old Brian off to the Phillips Academy in Andover, Massachusetts, where he planned to study physics and astronomy for his last three years of high school. Brian was fascinated with knowing how things worked, tinkering with gadgets and electronics, and building elaborate Heathkit stereos and televisions. At thirteen, Brian had even constructed a small mechanical puppet in the Muppet workshop, building a puppet potato with a trigger-activated mouth and eyes. \"[My dad] was very intrigued that I was inclined in that direction,\" said Brian. \"He was enormously appreciative and loved seeing what I was doing.\"\n\nStill awaiting the resolution of the London strike, Jim spent much of the early fall traveling with his family, spending several days in Scotland in late September, a \"delightful weekend\" marred only by the theft of Jim's Nikon camera from the trunk of his typically unlocked car. Several more days were spent in Amsterdam, followed by a road trip to visit Oxford Scientific Films, where Jim spent several hours looking at the magnifying cameras the company used to film tiny subjects, like ant hills, at ground level. \"It would look so otherworldly because you're looking at the mosses and the ferns and everything right up close,\" said Cheryl. \"Neat!\" Jim wrote in his journal, hoping to find some use for the technology in _The Crystal_.\n\nOn October 24, the strike ended as quickly as it had begun, though Grade's channels would find their viewers slow to return after eleven weeks away. Jim immediately returned to Elstree to wrap up work on two unfinished _Muppet Show_ episodes, completing both in only four days. On November 2, he headed back to the States, this time stopping in Maryland to receive a Distinguished Alumnus Award from the University of Maryland and to serve as grand marshal in the school's homecoming parade. Wearing a flowered shirt and paisley tie under a corduroy suit, Jim waved Kermit from the back of a convertible, trawling along in a sea of floats filled with papier-m\u00e2ch\u00e9 Muppets. While he was becoming known around the world, Jim still blushed at the attention lavished on him in his former backyard, mumbling only half-audible responses to shouted questions at a press event.\n\nIn early November, the Muppet team spent a week in Los Angeles taping a Christmas special with John Denver, to coincide with the release of a Christmas album Denver and the Muppets had recorded in London during the heat of the summer. Denver had guest-starred on _The Muppet Show_ in May, where his easygoing, no-drama attitude\u2014his strongest epithet was usually _golly_!\u2014meshed easily with Jim's own way of performing. Shortly after finishing Denver's _Muppet Show_ episode, Jim called Denver in Aspen to discuss working on a Christmas album together, the two of them tossing ideas back and forth for hours over the phone and deciding which songs to record. After settling on thirteen tunes\u2014ranging from traditional songs like \"The Twelve Days of Christmas\" to the Beach Boys' \"Little Saint Nick\"\u2014Denver recorded the basic tracks at a studio in Los Angeles, then met Jim and the Muppet team in London in late June to record their vocals together. The resulting album, _John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together_ , went gold before Christmas 1979, and platinum by early 1980. \"I can honestly say that collaborating with Jim Henson and the entire Muppet Gang in putting this recording together was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my career,\" said Denver.\n\nThe television special, taped over a relatively leisurely eight days, featured the Muppets at their sentimental best, softening the trademark Muppet madness in favor of the quieter, more deferential tones suitable for a Christmas special. It was the right choice\u2014the show's finale, with Denver and the Muppets singing \"Silent Night\" with the children in the studio audience, is genuinely sweet without being saccharine\u2014but to some critics, the Muppets seemed out of character. \"It's discouraging to see the Muppets succumb with increasing frequency to sentimental impulses overly exercised in _The Muppet Movie_ ,\" wrote Tom Shales in _The Washington Post_ , lamenting that the Muppets had gone for \"sanctimoniousness, rather than their playful anarchic streak.\" Still, Shales had to admit it was \"lavish, warm and insanely entertaining,\" which was probably good enough for Jim. \"He was easily proud, actually,\" said Brian Henson. \"He didn't look at things that he'd finished and grimace. He enjoyed what he made.... I mean, he _knew_ he was good.\"\n\nIn mid-December\u2014after spending Thanksgiving shooting inserts for _Sesame Street_ , riding in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and presiding over the annual Christmas party\u2014Jim returned to London to spend the holidays with the entire Henson family in the house on Downshire Hill. After the long and somewhat frantic year, Jim was pleasantly relaxed, chatting casually on the phone with Brillstein\u2014who delivered the welcome news that he had placed _Emmet Otter_ with ABC for Christmas 1980\u2014and strolling Hampstead Heath, where he would sometimes sprawl out on Don Sahlin's bench, looking out over Parliament Hill in the brisk cold. For the members of the Muppet team spending their Christmas in London, Jim hosted a formal dinner party at the White Elephant on the River, pulling up at the curb in his Lotus, grinning broadly as he entered the club.\n\nChristmas Day in London was sparklingly clear and cold\u2014\"lovely,\" wrote Jim in his journal in typical understatement\u2014and as 1979 came to a close, Jim jotted down several notes in his journal, as if to remind himself of just what a successful year it had been. \" _The Muppet Movie_ has grossed around 75 million\u2014I _think_ ,\" he wrote, slightly hedging his bets (the real number was closer to $65 million). \" _The Muppet Movie_ album with Atlantic went gold just before Christmas. _John Denver and the Muppets_ album has sold over a million\u2014according to John. The Miss Piggy Calendar is out this year. _The Muppet Show_ Music Album just came out in England this December. _The Muppet Movie_ book is out.\"\n\nMeanwhile, he still had _The Crystal_ in its early stages, and had even started talking with Lord Grade about a sequel to _The Muppet Movie_. It truly had been\u2014as he at last wrote in his journal without a whiff of understatement\u2014\"a very major big year.\"\n\n# **CHAPTER ELEVEN**\n\n#\n\n# THE WORLD IN HIS HEAD  \n1979\u20131982\n\n_Kira, one of the heroes of 1928's_ The Dark Crystal, _with a villainous Skeksis_. (photo credit 11.1)\n\nWITH THE WORLDWIDE POPULARITY OF BOTH _T HE MUPPET SHOW_ and now _The Muppet Movie_ , Jim had, it seemed, conclusively put to rest the puppetry prejudice that had plagued him since _Sesame Street_. If there were still critics clinging to the stifling misperception that puppets were purely kids' entertainment, Jim had a universally acclaimed major motion picture, an Emmy, and 235 million weekly television viewers who would likely help him argue otherwise. But the international success of the Muppets on television and the movie screen had created a different kind of perception problem for Jim. True, he was no longer considered a children's performer; instead, to the entire world, he was now \"the Muppet Guy.\"\n\nIt was a label Jim had struggled with before. In the late 1960s, as Jim was branching out into various non-Muppet-related projects\u2014television specials, commercials, documentaries, computer graphics\u2014he had deliberately sought to downplay the prominence of the Muppets in the company, even changing the name over the door from Muppets, Inc. to Henson Associates. \"Back in the sixties\u2014when I was working on movies like _Time Piece_ \u2014I thought of myself as an experimental filmmaker,\" Jim said\u2014and to some extent, that was still true. While the Muppets were certainly the most well known, and most profitable, of Jim's projects, Jim never had, and never would, consider himself to be solely about the Muppets.\n\n\"When you try to get people in the industry to accept a big idea, it usually takes a long time\u2014months or years,\" said Jim, who had devoted more than a decade to the task of bringing the Muppets to television and film. \"And when they finally say, 'yes\u2014let's go with it,' part of my creative mind is already somewhere else, doing something quite different. I think that's the normal pattern. By the time I'm actually producing something, part of me is wanting to do something else. I don't particularly want to make my life go crazy doing several things at the same time, but it always seems to happen that way.\"\n\nThat \"something else\" was _The Crystal_ , still in its preliminary stages at the Muppet workshop in New York in 1980\u2014but even before deciding on _The Crystal_ as his next project, Jim had wanted to make a non-Muppet fantasy film for a long time. In the early 1970s, in fact, he had briefly flirted with the idea of doing an adaptation of J. R. R. Tolkien's _Lord of the Rings_ series, but eventually passed on the project after deciding Tolkien's sweeping epic was \"too big to handle\" in a single film.\n\nIn 1975, while paging through a copy of _The Pig-Tale_ \u2014an illustrated version of the poem by Lewis Carroll, with lavish drawings by Leonard Lubin\u2014Jim had been struck by one of Lubin's illustrations of a crocodile in sumptuous Victorian attire. \"It was the juxtaposition of this reptilian thing in this fine atmosphere that intrigued me,\" Jim said later\u2014and with that spark of an idea, he began writing a treatment for a fantasy film called _Mithra_ , a dry run of the various plot elements that would eventually coalesce as _The Dark Crystal_. Even in this early treatment, Jim was already certain he wanted the two warring factions\u2014the villainous Reptus and the wizardlike Bada\u2014to have split from a single species, through the influence of a mystical source of power, \"perhaps a lodestone,\" Jim wrote tenuously.\n\nAfter meeting artist Brian Froud in August 1977, however, Jim had shelved the _Mithra_ treatment in favor of working with Froud on their \"Great Film\" together, building a new fantasy world from the ground up, and concentrating more on the overall look and feel of the film than on the story. \"I'm trying to create this film in a different way,\" Jim wrote in his diary, \"hoping to get all the creative elements going on it for a while before tying things down with a script.\" In early 1978, as Froud sketched in the New York workshop and handed drawings off to Muppet builders to begin crafting puppets, Jim\u2014while stranded with Cheryl at Howard Johnson's hotel during the snowstorm\u2014had scrawled out a rough outline of a plot, lifting a few key elements from the abandoned _Mithra_ and finally deciding that the mystical source of power in the land he and Froud were building would be a crystal. Working off his handwritten notes, he quickly put together a sixteen-page treatment of _The Crystal_ , and \"set some of the [Muppet] builders working on ideas of ways to create characters unlike anything we've ever done before,\" he wrote in his diary. \"It's such a wonderful challenge to try to design an entire world... like no one has ever seen before.\"\n\nFor most of 1978, however, Jim's focus was on filming _The Muppet Movie_ , though the New York workshop continued diligently sculpting, building, and tinkering with puppets for _The Crystal_. Wizard heads and various potato-like peasants and slaves slumped on benches around the workshop, while handyman Faz Fazakas was building elaborate\u2014and increasingly smaller\u2014remote-control mechanisms to widen eyes, crinkle foam noses, and wrinkle latex foreheads. In October, Jim took a few of the completed figures out in the backyard of his house in Bedford to film them among rocks and trees, subjecting the puppets to the same sort of outdoor screen test he had put Kermit and Fozzie through earlier in the year in preparation for _The Muppet Movie_. He was pleased with the results of the screen test, yet he knew his preoccupation with the look of the film meant he was approaching the project in an unconventional, almost backward way. \"Normally you write the script first and design around the story,\" he explained later. \"I wanted to change that and come up with a visual world first, although knowing vaguely the type of story I wanted.\"\n\nSix months later, there was still no real script to speak of\u2014but in the summer of 1979, Jim flew to New York to pitch _The Crystal_ to executives at Paramount anyway, perhaps hoping the success of the recently premiered _Muppet Movie_ would convince the studio to invest the $15 million Jim was asking for his next film. He brought with him a beautifully produced formal proposal, printed on milled paper and brimming with Froud's lavish pencil drawings\u2014but typical of Jim's approach to the project, the pitch book for _The Crystal_ devoted most of its space to the characters and the world itself. That left just half a page to outline the story, only vaguely described as a \"struggle through terrible dangers and hardships\" which built to a nonspecific \"startling climax.\" Paramount executives passed.\n\nWith Paramount's demurral, Jim decided to once again approach Lord Grade, his reliable patron for both _The Muppet Show_ and _The Muppet Movie_. During their initial negotiations for _The Muppet Movie_ , Grade had been encouraging, though noncommittal, about financing a non-Muppet feature\u2014but Jim was certain that, with _The Muppet Movie_ turning a healthy profit, Grade would be more than willing to back such an ambitious project. Lazer, however, wasn't so sure, and pulled Jim aside for a frank conversation. The success of _The Muppet Movie_ , Lazer explained, had ramped up enthusiasm and demand for a sequel. \"I felt that if we gave too much time in between Muppet movies, we couldn't keep that audience,\" said Lazer, \"and I knew Lew [Grade] was ready... to go for that second Muppet movie immediately.\"\n\nJim was deflated. \"He was always interested in the idea of going beyond the Muppets,\" said Cheryl Henson, \"[there was a sense of] wanting to find something, wanting to work on something that had more depth to it.\" \"Jim wanted to do _The Crystal_ ,\" said Lazer. \"His mind was off Muppets. He wanted to get _The Crystal_ done.\" And Lazer, who understood perhaps better than anyone just how important _The Crystal_ was to Jim, instead \"gave him every reason we should do another Muppet movie.\" However, Lazer offered to take up the negotiations with Grade personally, promising Jim that if he would agree to make the sequel to _The Muppet Movie_ first, Lazer would ensure that any funding Grade put up for the second Muppet film would be contingent on financing _The Crystal_ next. Jim agreed, and Lazer was as good as his word, convincing Grade to lay down not only a hefty $14 million for the next Muppet feature\u2014nearly double what he had invested in _The Muppet Movie_ \u2014but also $13 million for _The Crystal_. Grade also agreed that Jim could shoot the movies back to back, beginning work on _The Crystal_ immediately after wrapping the Muppet sequel.\n\nJim was disappointed, but pragmatic\u2014delaying _The Crystal_ in favor of the next Muppet film meant he could keep Froud and the team of artists and builders at work in the New York shop, where they could continue to refine the more realistic, and increasingly complex, puppets Froud was designing. \"The idea of doing very naturalistic creatures that looked like living things was exciting to me,\" said Jim. \"I could see that it would take an awful lot of technical know-how to make it work, but we had the beginning of a team of people who could tackle that.\" In fact, several members of _The Crystal_ 's design team\u2014including one of its lead builders, a talented sculptor and doll maker named Wendy Midener\u2014were especially knowledgeable in the technical know-how, having worked in tandem with director George Lucas on a lifelike puppet Lucas wanted for his second _Star Wars_ film, _The Empire Strikes Back_.\n\nIt is not surprising that Jim and Lucas would eventually cross paths. Not only were they artistically cut from the same cloth, but for the better part of a year, they were practically neighbors. \"In England, while we were making [ _Star Wars_ ], we worked across the street from [Elstree], which is where Jim Henson's group was [taping _The Muppet Show_ ], and I got to know him,\" said Lucas. \"We were very much alike: independent, out of the spotlight, obsessed with our own films. And I really admired the Muppets... so I asked him if he thought we could get together and create a very realistic-looking puppet.\" Lucas already had his own team of special effects wizards in place\u2014including master makeup artist Stuart Freeborn, who had designed several large walkaround creatures like Chewbacca\u2014but if a puppet was needed, Lucas wanted to be certain he had the best puppet designers and performers working side by side with his own team at Lucasfilm. Jim, too, was anxious to learn more about the dynamic special effects technology Lucas and his team were known for developing, hoping perhaps to apply some of Lucasfilm's expertise to _The Crystal_. \"It became a mutual thing,\" said _Empire Strikes Back_ producer Gary Kurtz, \"because they needed some advice on their film and we needed their expertise in the puppet area\"\u2014and by November 1978, Jim noted in his journal that he and the Muppet team were \"Working with STAR WARS on YODA.\"\n\nInitially, Lucas had wanted Jim to perform the character. \"I thought he was the best puppeteer,\" said Lucas\u2014but with his already cramped schedule, Jim was concerned he would be unable to give the project the time and attention it needed, and instead recommended Frank Oz for the job. \"Jim called me into his trailer... and showed me a sketch of Yoda\u2014and it felt right,\" said Oz. \"Sometimes you have to work at something before you have that feeling, but this felt really good.\" Additionally, said Oz, \"it was acting, not just performing\"\u2014a skill at which Oz excelled.\n\nUsing concept drawings provided by Lucas, Wendy Midener had drawn and sculpted Yoda to make the character work in three dimensions\u2014then watched in mild frustration as Freeborn and the Lucasfilm technicians built what was essentially a clunky and heavy doll, with thick cables trailing out of it to control the various eye, ear, and face mechanisms. \"They were building a special effect,\" said Muppet performer Kathy Mullen, who assisted Oz with Yoda. \"But Wendy really did work hard on that to make it work and I'm sure Frank [Oz] was over there a bunch of times to try to get it right. I mean _everybody_ worked to try to get it right.\"\n\nFreeborn and his team continued to tinker with Yoda, but when Oz showed up at the soundstage at Elstree for the first day of filming in August 1979, the puppet, said Oz bluntly, was still \"really fuckin' heavy.\" Rather than carving and constructing Yoda from foam and lightweight materials, Freeborn had built Yoda out of heavy nonpliable rubber, putting extra weight on Oz's wrist and severely reducing the puppet's flexibility. A thick bundle of cables trailed from Yoda's neck to a black control box under the stage, where Midener could operate the controls for Yoda's eyes\u2014but the short length and additional weight of the cables only made the puppet that much heavier and more difficult to manipulate. Meanwhile, Mullen had to brace herself under Oz's right arm to perform the character's right hand and, at times, operate the mechanisms that wiggled Yoda's ears or pulled his mouth back into a slight smile. The stage had been elevated, though just barely\u2014and there was very little room for the three performers to move about as they watched their performance on monitors glowing in the darkness. \"It was _very_ hard,\" groaned Mullen.\n\nAnd yet the experience was a success, not only for the wondrously memorable character that Oz and the Muppet team created for the film, but also because\u2014as Jim hoped\u2014it had served as a creative reconnaissance mission for _The Crystal_ 's designers and builders. Yoda had been a kind of dry run for the sort of creatures Jim hoped to populate _The Crystal_ 's world with\u2014and by watching and working with Freeborn and his team they had learned even more about how the latest remote control technology could be integrated into a puppet, to blink or narrow eyes or turn up the corner of a mouth to give a character an even more lifelike appearance. Just as important, they had also learned what _didn't_ work. For one thing, the puppets\u2014and all their incorporated technology\u2014would have to be lighter and more flexible. Jim would also have to find new ways of keeping three or more performers\u2014and all the necessary cables controlling eyes and ears and smiles\u2014out of sight of the camera, especially if he hoped to have his puppets walking, climbing, and moving about out in the open. \"It was just the sort of thing that needed a lot of research, a lot of time and experimentation,\" said Jim\u2014and now with _The Crystal_ temporarily pushed back, time was, for once, a luxury Jim and his team had.\n\nFor now, Brian Froud, Wendy Midener\u2014who would marry Froud in May 1980\u2014and the team at the New York workshop would continue their work, blending the lessons learned from their experience with Yoda with their own creative expertise in puppetry design and function. Jim, meanwhile, would start the wheels turning on the next Muppet movie, putting comedy screenwriter Jack Rose\u2014who had penned _Road to Rio_ , one of the early Hope-Crosby films Jim loved\u2014to work on a film treatment. Jim was also going to direct both the next Muppet film and _The Crystal_ himself\u2014of that, there was no question, and Grade had never even raised the issue\u2014but now that he would be at the helm of his first big screen features, Jim wanted to be sure he had a reliable and experienced cameraman at his right hand. In early 1980, Jim met with\u2014and \"loved\"\u2014Ossie Morris, an Oscar-winning cinematographer who had been the cameraman of choice for director John Huston, shooting epics like _Moby Dick_ and _Moulin Rouge_. Morris could read a script or walk a movie set and know intuitively if what Jim saw in his head would show up on camera, and his sure eye would make him an invaluable member of Jim's production team.\n\nAnd there was still _The Muppet Show_ to attend to. The strike of 1979 had put the Muppet crew behind schedule, with nine episodes of the fourth season remaining to be taped in a little less than seven weeks. Even as the team speedily wrapped up their fourth year at Elstree, they remained one of London's best-loved acts. Muppet fans continued to mob ATV so much that Jim finally had to put a stop to the popular tours of the workshop. Fan mail from around the world still poured into the Muppet offices at Elstree, most of it addressed to the characters themselves, asking for pictures or autographs. Children sent in drawings of their favorite Muppets or boldly invited Jim to dinner at their house, while their parents asked if they might be allowed to purchase a used or broken Muppet. And nearly every working puppeteer, comedy writer, or songwriter, it seemed, sent in a r\u00e9sum\u00e9 or audition tape, begging, pleading, praying for a chance to work with the Muppets. Jim responded politely to all of them, saying a kind word or two about their material while letting them down as gently as he could. Still, Jim did find a few performers through the mail, including Karen Prell, a young performer from Washington who enclosed several photos of her handmade puppets and asked for an audition.\n\nMore and more, Jim was coming to regard London as home\u2014as was Lazer, who had unconsciously developed a whiff of a posh English accent. He loved dining in the city's finer restaurants, gambling in London's most exclusive clubs, and liked being recognized by cooing British admirers as he walked Hampstead's winding streets. And yet, while Jim may have wanted to live in London full-time\u2014and indeed, with the house in Hampstead, it seemed to many that he already did\u2014he literally counted the days he spent in the city each year, making sure he never stayed a day longer than six months, which would put him at the mercy of England's astronomically high income tax rate, which hovered just over 80 percent.\n\nSuccess had also made Jim somewhat more aware of himself and how he looked, and he had recently taken steps to add a bit of polish to his comfortable, bohemian look. While one of his favorite boutiques would always be Liberty of London, where he would purchase armloads of long-sleeve shirts in colorful florals and paisleys, Jim had finally allowed Lazer to talk him into investing in several bespoke suits, shirts, vests, trousers, and even custom-made boots from London's best tailors in Savile Row, once spending over \u00a31,000\u2014about $6,000 today\u2014on clothing. At six foot one, Jim was mostly arms and legs\u2014his waist was a waiflike thirty inches\u2014and custom clothing meant there would be no more exposed calves when he crossed his legs on television, or wrists poking from the end of a too-short shirt. Agent Bernie Brillstein, for one, thought Jim looked great in his \"beautiful suits\" and was impressed to see him wearing ties. \" _Strange_ ties,\" added the agent, \"but ties.\"\n\nBrillstein was also pleased to see Jim \"enjoying money\u2014you know, in a nice way.\" While Jim had always been fond of showy cars and luxurious vacations, he had lately begun to indulge in art, sculpture, antiques, and furniture, with a particular eye for bold craftsmanship\u2014an expensive habit for which Lazer felt he was partly to blame. One afternoon as he and Jim were window-shopping in London, Jim spotted a beautiful piece of art in a store window. \"How much do you think that costs?\" he asked Lazer excitedly, and the two spent several moments guessing the price. Finally, Lazer went inside to ask the owner, and learned the piece was available at an astronomical price. Jim arched an eyebrow quizzically at Lazer. \"Should I?\" he asked impishly. \"Jim, if you like it, just do it,\" said Lazer\u2014and so Jim did, walking out of the store with the package tucked under his arm, beaming happily.\n\nLazer later said he \"felt badly\" that he had given Jim the approval he had seemed to be looking for to indulge himself more freely. \"I think I should _not_ have encouraged him,\" said Lazer. \"He started... on a buying thing... he felt free.\" Still, Jim was never entirely careless with his money; when he felt an expensive antique cabinet was overpriced, he quietly had the piece appraised and discovered it was worth less than half of the $19,000 asking price. Looking back, Lazer couldn't bring himself to begrudge Jim's buying sprees _too_ much. \"I'm so glad he did. He bought houses where he wanted. He lived where he wanted.... I'm glad he _lived_ while he lived.\"\n\nJim completed work on the fourth season of _The Muppet Show_ in late February 1980, taping the final episode with guest Diana Ross, who charmed the entire Muppet crew by modestly asking \"Was that all right?\" after every take. After only a two-week break\u2014during which Jim worked almost constantly, jetting back to New York for several days and then dashing to Paris to promote _The Muppet Movie_ \u2014he reassembled the Muppet team back at Elstree to begin work on the fifth season. While _The Muppet Show_ was, at that point, arguably the most watched show in the world, Jim had even higher hopes that the show would live on in perpetuity in reruns, thereby providing a steady revenue stream. \"The long range product for this show is down the road,\" he had explained to _Time_ magazine, \"when it's syndicated [in reruns].\"\n\nFor that to happen, however, a show generally needed at least one hundred completed episodes that could be put into rotation; by the end of season four, _The Muppet Show_ had only ninety-six. Season five, then, would be pivotal, for several reasons\u2014not only would the show reach its critical one hundredth episode, but Jim had also privately decided that the fifth season would be its last. \"After five seasons, we're doing other projects,\" Jim told reporters. As the Muppet team set to work at ATV on the first few shows of season five, Jim was already conferring with Jack Rose and Jerry Juhl about the script for the second Muppet movie. And he wasn't happy with it.\n\nFrom the beginning, Jim knew he wanted his film to be a homage to early movie musicals, \"because I so enjoy those movies. I intended [the second Muppet movie] to have the fun and joy of those earlier films.\" He also knew he wanted Kermit to be a reporter-turned-detective who would have to compete with a rival for Miss Piggy's affections\u2014but typically, he was having a difficult time articulating the rest of his story, only vaguely directing that it be \"joyful\" with a \"positive attitude toward life,\" and that it contain \"several hilarious sequences [with] big laughs\" as well as \"some real emotions\/relationships.\" He thought there might be a big chase at the end, and he was certain the movie would end with all the Muppets floating down in \"parachutes\u2014everybody sings as they go down.\"\n\nWith such vague directions, it was perhaps little wonder that what he got back from Rose and Juhl wasn't what he thought he'd asked for. \"There are a great many problems with this draft,\" he wrote testily of their script, confessing privately in his journal that things were \"not looking good.\" Frustrated, he asked veteran television comedy writers Jay Tarses and Tom Patchett\u2014who had written for Bob Newhart and Carol Burnett\u2014to meet with him at his house on Downshire Hill to discuss them taking over the scripting duties. In the meantime, he asked fellow _Sesame Street_ alum Joe Raposo to begin crafting songs\u2014despite the fact that a plot hadn't yet been confirmed\u2014and hired choreographer Anita Mann for dance sequences that didn't yet exist.\n\nFortunately, Patchett and Tarses worked quickly, and by early May 1980, Jim had a first draft he could work with, though one sticking point remained: the title. Patchett and Tarses had given their script the throwaway title _Muppet Mania_ , but Jim decided to put the question to the Muppet staff, holding a contest to find the best name for the film. Among some of the more interesting or silly suggestions _\u2014The Rocky Muppet Picture Show_ , _A Froggy Day in London\u2014_ Jim found a handwritten submission from nineteen-year-old Lisa Henson, suggesting _The Great Muppetcapade_. Written in pencil next to it, as if rolling the words around in her mouth, she had scrawled \"escapade? esc _pig_ aide? caper?\" and then scratched all three alternatives out. Jim circled _The Great Muppetcapade_ and the crossed-out word _Caper_. Problem solved. _The Great Muppet Caper_ it would be.\n\nLisa's involvement was critical to another project as well, an \"interactive movie\" concept revolving around a story they were plotting with Maurice Sendak and Jon Stone called \"The Varied Adventures of Mischievous Miles.\" During a trip to Hollywood to attend the Oscars\u2014where Jim and Oz performed the Oscar-nominated \"Rainbow Connection,\" only to watch it lose the Best Song trophy to \"It Goes like It Goes\" from _Norma Rae_ \u2014Jim and Lisa met with Sherry Lansing at 20th Century Fox to pitch their ambitious idea: a film in which the audience would be asked at intervals to choose the direction of the story. The mechanics were cumbersome\u2014based on choices made by the audience, seventy-two different variations of the film were possible\u2014but Jim was confident he could make it work. \"We were really interested in nonlinear storytelling,\" recalled Lisa. \"The concept was you make a movie on a laser disc, and then a computer program would drive it to play different bits of the disc depending on what choice was made... but it wasn't possible to do it on a commercial filmmaking level.\" It would take another decade before the technology could catch up with Jim's idea. \"Really, where it all ended up was in video games,\" said Lisa, \"but we didn't know that at the time.\"\n\nJim would shelve the interactive movie concept, but work on _The Crystal_ continued\u2014and the more time Jim spent building his world in his head, the more he was convinced that the $13 million Grade had offered to finance the film wasn't going to be enough. Grade was scheduled to attend the Cannes Film Festival in mid-May\u2014and had generously offered to pay for Jim and Lazer to spend a few days at the festival as well\u2014and it was here that Lazer planned to make an appeal directly to Grade to up their budget. \"Lord Grade's office chartered a flight to take Jim and me to France,\" recalled Lazer. \"Two fabulous suites awaited us, a detailed itinerary, as well as a major dinner reservation... Jim was showered with praise and adoration.\"\n\nVery quickly, however, both Jim and Lazer came to see the dingy crust beneath Cannes' glossy veneer, and Lazer began to lose his nerve about approaching Grade. \"I thought it [Cannes] was trashy,\" said Lazer, \"everyone hawking, selling their wares.\" That first evening, they ran into Liza Minnelli, who invited them back to a yacht party\u2014\"[she] was crazy over Jim,\" said Lazer. That, too, was another letdown\u2014\"people drinking and slobbering,\" shuddered Lazer\u2014and he and Jim ducked out after midnight to walk along the docks on the way back to their hotel. Jim walked slowly and quietly, and Lazer worried that Jim was disappointed with their Cannes experience. Then he realized Jim wasn't even paying attention to their surroundings; he was watching the moon on the water. \"[It] seemed to do a shimmer dance on the water just for him,\" said Lazer. None of the glamour\u2014or grunge\u2014of Cannes seemed to impress or depress him at all. Instead, said Lazer, \"he was mesmerized by the beauty, the serenity and the nurturing power of Nature.\" With a new perspective, a reinvigorated Lazer strolled over to Grade's suite the next morning and persuaded the mogul to increase his investment in _The Crystal_ from $13 million to $25 million. \"That's the money that really saved the film,\" said Oz.\n\nA trip to France had saved one of Jim's worlds; a week later, a trip to Scotland would spawn a new one.\n\nOn May 24, 1980, Jim flew to Scotland at the invitation of Jocelyn Stevenson, one of Jim's favorite editors and writers from the Children's Television Workshop. Stevenson and Jim had gotten to know each other in the early 1970s when, as a young secretary for CTW, Stevenson had sloshed through a New York downpour to deliver some pages of _Sesame Street_ magazine to Jim for approval. As the two of them talked, they learned they shared a similar commitment to the television medium and its potential for quality children's entertainment. \"And he just said to me, 'You're really creative,' \" said Stevenson. \"It was a really big moment for me to have someone... see [me] that way. He was really huge in terms of his influence on me.\"\n\nNow, a decade later, Stevenson had asked Jim to serve as the godfather for her son and dispatched a private plane to pick up Jim, Jane, Cheryl, John, and Heather in London and ferry them to her husband's family estate near Edinburgh, Scotland. When Stevenson's brother-in-law Peter Orton learned Jim was attending the event, he pleaded with Stevenson to seat him near Jim at dinner. \"I want to talk with him about an idea I have,\" said Orton cryptically. Stevenson obliged, and over dinner Orton\u2014a savvy British television executive who had done some international sales work for _Sesame Street_ \u2014enthusiastically pointed out to Jim that the worldwide success of both _Sesame Street_ and _The Muppet Show_ had opened up a unique opportunity. The time was right, said Orton, to produce a children's show aimed specifically at the international market. Jim was intrigued. He would think about it. The seeds of _Fraggle Rock_ had been sown.\n\nReturning to London, Jim spent the next eleven weeks taping the last twelve episodes of _The Muppet Show_. The show had come a long way in five years; after the shaky first season when Brillstein had rifled through his client list in search of guest stars, Jim could now get almost any celebrity he wished. \"Who excites you?\" he would ask his children\u2014and for sixteen-year-old Brian Henson, the answer was easy: Blondie's alluring lead singer, Debbie Harry. \"I said, 'She'll be great!' \" Brian said later, laughing. \"And I was like, 'Well, I don't know if she'll be _great_ , but I _love_ looking at her!' \" Jim booked Harry for the first week in August, when Brian would be in London for summer break\u2014and at the weekly dinner party that Jim always threw for each guest, Brian found himself sitting goopily next to the sultry singer. At one point, Harry excused herself, then strolled across the restaurant and sashayed up an open staircase toward the powder room. Every head turned. Jim looked at Brian and winked. \"You were right,\" he said, and grinned.\n\nOn Sunday, August 17, 1980, _The Muppet Show_ team gathered in Rehearsal Room 7\/8 for the final time. Jim would have no sad faces; it had been a happy five years at Elstree, and Jim wanted their last week to be a joyful one, bringing in dancer Gene Kelly as guest star for a week of singing and dancing. There would be only one small hint of the show's end in the final episode: a running gag in which Scooter performs a Tarot card reading for Beauregard the janitor and incorrectly informs him the world is coming to an end. As far as Jim was concerned, the world _wasn't_ ending; he had other projects to attend to, and _The Muppet Show_ would live on in reruns.\n\nStill, Jim appreciated that a milestone had been reached, and to mark the occasion he began the week by hosting a dinner party at the White Elephant on Sunday evening, draping an arm warmly around Brillstein and ITC's American executive Abe Mandell, both of whom had come from the States to celebrate _The Muppet Show_ 's final week. Gene Kelly finished taping his sequences by Thursday, leaving Jim and the _Muppet Show_ team to wrap things up on Friday the 22nd. That afternoon, as the Muppet performers completed the show's final take\u2014a sequence featuring Fozzie and Scooter dodging knives hurled by the myopic Signor Baffi\u2014floor manager Richard Holloway called out, \"Ladies and Gentlemen, that's a final wrap!\" and was hit in the face with a pie. It was an ending worthy of the Muppets themselves.\n\nThere was another party that evening, this time with Lord Grade in attendance, and Lazer handed Jim a pile of congratulatory telegrams that had come into the Muppet Suites over the past week. Despite the strike and their strict lights out policy, the last five years with the Muppet team had been fun for ATV's British staff, and the electricians, cameramen, and lighting crew were genuinely sorry to see Jim and the Muppet team leave. \"All at Elstree hope the Muppets will return,\" said one telegram. \"A marvelous five years with marvelous people.\" Jim appreciated the sentiments, even as he remained unsentimental. \"We finished our 120th _Muppet Show_ this summer, and that wraps that up\u2014we felt it was a good place to stop it,\" he said plainly. \"We certainly enjoyed it.... It was a nice show to do.\"\n\nAnother important chapter came to a close that summer as well: after more than a year of living in London, Jane had decided to return home to New York. Living, working, and traveling with Jim over the last year \"was a great adventure for all of us,\" said Cheryl, \"but ultimately it was not [Jane's] life; she felt out of place and she decided to go back.\" Their year on Downshire Hill in London would be the last time the two of them would truly live together as a couple; the ocean now separating them was a tangible reminder of the gulf that was widening between them. Following Jane's departure, in fact, Jim began quietly seeing other women.\n\nDecades later Jane was still inclined to be understanding. Jim, she said, \"really didn't like being by himself\"; there had been occasions in the past when he had casually \"gone out,\" as Jane put it, seeking dinner dates or companions for a movie or show after long days of working in the city. Jim was always respectfully discreet\u2014and, the Henson children thought, felt slightly guilty about it. At one point, in fact, Jim had actually tried to discuss things with Jane, no small feat for someone who generally didn't relish talking about his feelings. Jane had become understandably upset, and Jim\u2014who hated hurting anyone's feelings even more than he disliked talking about his own emotions\u2014wouldn't broach the subject again.\n\nNow that Jim was in London alone, however, Jane conceded that there was likely more going on in the London evenings than merely dinner or movies. \"We didn't talk about it,\" she said flatly, \"but I certainly knew he went out to dinner with people and _everything_.\" As always, Jim generally tried to keep a respectfully low profile\u2014and was stunned when he learned one of his relationships had become \"somewhat public.\" \"It horrified him,\" said Jane. \"It really did. Because he himself still really did not want that to be his picture, even though it's sort of what life had become. He didn't like that picture.\" At that point, \"I think [Jim] was evaluating his own marriage,\" said Muppet performer Steve Whitmire, who had enthused about his own marriage during a drive with Jim in the Lotus. Whitmire had married his high school sweetheart, and Jim seemed genuinely interested in understanding the dynamics of their relationship. Finally, recalled Whitmire, Jim quietly said, \" 'You know, Jane and I haven't really been living like a married couple for some time.' He didn't elaborate... and I thought, 'He's telling me something quite intimate, and I really don't know what to say.'... It was mostly quiet.\"\n\nIn late August, Jim headed for Bermuda for a company-wide staff retreat. It was the first time Jim had pulled together his entire staff from both sides of the Atlantic, and the size of the group likely surprised him: eighty-one employees filled the seats around the room. Lisa and Cheryl also sat in on the three-day retreat, where Jim knew he could count on them for honest feedback. Lisa could immediately feel the New York\u2013London tensions that were troubling her dad. \"For the life of him, he couldn't get his group to think together as an organism,\" said Lisa. \"Puppeteers, when they perform together, they have that alchemy, like they're all one organism. But in the company there were always a lot of personalities or ego issues and things that were frustrating for him.\" Jim did his best to mingle with as many people as he could, playing tennis, swimming, and eating with a different group at every meal to ensure everyone got the face time they needed, since Jim's presence\u2014whether he liked it or not\u2014could, as David Lazer pointed out, \"make or break someone's day.\"\n\nAll summer long, work had continued on the second Muppet film\u2014now officially _The Great Muppet Caper_ \u2014with Patchett and Tarses finishing up their script and Raposo submitting the final songs and musical score for an orchestra to record. Cinematographer Ossie Morris, too, had been busy scouting locations, and even Morris\u2014who had worked on more than ninety films since the early 1930s\u2014had come to feel the odd magnetism of Jim's presence, almost frantically appealing to him to immerse himself in _Caper_ as quickly as possible. \"I feel a little distant from you and I believe that is shared by the art and production [departments],\" wrote Morris.\n\nOn Thursday, September 4, 1980\u2014less than two weeks after shooting the final episode of _The Muppet Show_ \u2014Jim settled into his director's chair in London's Battersea Park, now at the helm of his first full-length motion picture. \"It has taken me twenty years to get [here],\" Jim noted, \"and I'm delighted to have made it.\" In a way, Jim had already been directing for years, watching the television monitor as he performed his characters and adjusting on camera as needed. He brought the same mentality to directing film, rarely looking through the camera's eyepiece, preferring instead to rig a small video monitor next to the camera so he could see exactly what the camera was seeing\u2014a complicated and innovative system that made sense to Jim, and which would eventually become a standard technique for filmmakers. \"Usually the cameraman insists I look through [the eyepiece],\" Jim said, \"[and] I say 'I can see it over here.' \"\n\nThe first scene Jim would film for _Caper_ would be another one of those _How'd they do that?_ moments that Jim loved to tease his audiences with. In _The Muppet Movie_ , critics had been awestruck by the footage of Kermit riding a bicycle. If audiences had been wowed by _one_ Muppet on a bike, then, for _Caper_ , Jim would put his entire Muppet cast on wheels\u2014\"lots of people on bikes\" he wrote in his notes\u2014pedaling them through Battersea Park as part of a large musical number.\n\nIt was actually sixteen-year-old Brian Henson, spending several weeks working in the London workshop with Faz Fazakas, who had helped figure out how to make it all work. While shutting down _The Muppet Show_ had also meant bidding farewell to the Muppet workshop at ATV, Jim had relocated the workshop to 1B Downshire Hill, the abandoned postage sorting facility he had purchased in 1979 across the street from his home. As the team working on the puppets for _The Crystal_ began slowly moving in, Jim already had Fazakas working his wizardry for _The Great Muppet Caper_ \u2014and Brian, on a break from his classes at Andover, had been assigned as Fazakas's right hand. \"My dad wanted me to just figure it out,\" said Brian.\n\nUltimately, the trick was pulled off by using a combination of radio-controlled bikes, marionette rigging, and in some cases attaching several bikes together with rods so they could stand upright on their own. Brian served as one of the lead performers for the sequence, wheeling marionette versions of Kermit and Miss Piggy around on Battersea's wide sidewalks as Jim beamed proudly. Watching the scene on playback, Jim nodded approvingly. \"Brian, you did a really, really good job there,\" he said quietly.\n\nAs impressive as it was, the bike riding sequence wasn't _The Great Muppet Caper_ 's showstopper. From the very beginning, Jim knew he wanted _Caper_ to have \"something new\u2014something to talk about.\" As he filled several pages of a notebook with possible ideas, he scrawled out \"Kermit swimming,\" and then, below it, \"Piggy\/Ester [ _sic_ ] Williams.\" That would be it\u2014an elaborate homage to the swimming, diving, and underwater ballet numbers made famous by Esther Williams in the 1940s and 1950s. \"If I had to search out any guilty pleasures,\" Jim said later, \"it is that I probably indulged myself in _Caper_ in the underwater sequence with Miss Piggy.\"\n\nHowever, making a pig swim\u2014especially a Muppet pig\u2014was no easy task. While the puppetry itself would be a challenge, Oz couldn't just take a regular Miss Piggy Muppet and dunk it in a swimming pool. Not only would the puppet's foam head soak up the water like a sponge, but the water eventually would wash away the flocking sprayed on the character, discoloring the puppet and leaving a scrim of flock shavings floating on the surface. Before a single frame of film could be shot, then, the Muppet builders had to figure out a way to design a waterproof, colorfast, flexible puppet for Oz to work with.\n\nUnder the direction of Caroly Wilcox, the New York Muppet workshop became a kind of Muppet Labs. After much trial and error, the team settled on carving and constructing the puppet out of compressed urethane foam, which didn't soak up water but did tend to lose its colored flocking when it got wet. Wilcox then spent several weeks looking at different kinds of flocking in various colors, even writing to the American Fish and Chemical Company\u2014which specialized in shoe and leather chemicals\u2014for advice about stronger adhesives to keep the flocking intact. Eventually, Wilcox and her team developed an elaborate recipe for carving, cutting, gluing, flocking, and then baking the individual puppet parts\u2014to cure them and fuse the flocking into place\u2014finally reporting their findings to Jim as the \"Piggy Research and Development Department.\"\n\nThere was only one problem: while the new puppet didn't soak up water and held its shape and color beautifully, the material still didn't stretch very well. \"So as soon as Frank would open up the mouth and do a nice exaggerated move,\" said Wilcox, \"the corner of the mouth would tear.\" The solution, then, was to build as many heads as possible\u2014and if the mouth tore during a take, they would replace the entire head with a new one before the cameras rolled again. In the end, nearly forty different Miss Piggy heads\u2014and seven different bodies\u2014would be used during filming. After each take, the Muppet designers took great delight in smashing each discarded head to bits\u2014mostly, said Wilcox coyly, \"to get even.\"\n\nOz knew of none of the complex science experiments that had put the puppet in his hands\u2014but he wasn't at all surprised that Jim's quiet confidence in Wilcox and her team had inspired them into finding a workable solution. \"He had no patience for, 'I can't figure it out,' \" said Brian Henson\u2014but the moment anyone started working to find a way around a problem, no matter how ridiculous the approach, \"he was there with you.\"\n\nNow that Jim had a collection of waterproof Muppets on hand, he and Oz were ready to film the movie's most impressive feat of puppetry, spending a week shooting a water ballet sequence that would last only a little over three minutes in the completed film. On a soundstage at Elstree film studios\u2014the same enormous soundstage where Luke Skywalker had recently fought Darth Vader in _The Empire Strikes Back_ \u2014Jim had constructed a swimming pool eighty feet long, fifty feet wide, and eight feet deep. For the comfort of Oz and the eighteen swimmers who would be participating in the water ballet, the water was heated to a swampy eighty degrees, \"so the whole place,\" said Jim, \"was like a tropical jungle in the sound stage while we were shooting.\"\n\nJim had mapped out most of the mechanics of each shot for the sequence\u2014some shots would use a stiff figure with a remote-controlled head, while the final shot of Piggy diving into the water called for a swimmer in full-body costume\u2014but for the most part, Miss Piggy would be a puppet, manipulated underwater by Oz. Wearing a wet suit the same color blue as the walls of the pool\u2014so he would blend with the background if caught on camera\u2014Oz would sink himself down to the bottom of the pool with the help of asphalt blocks. A scuba diver with an oxygen tank sat on the bottom, holding a breathing tube over Oz's face until Jim signaled the beginning of a take\u2014at which point Oz would take a last gulp of air, then they would film Piggy swimming underwater for as long as he could hold his breath. Jim had placed a number of monitors on the bottom of the pool so Oz could keep an eye on his performance, and lined the underwater walls with speakers so Oz could hear the music and Jim's directions. \"It was quite elaborate,\" said Jim. \"But it was fun. We had a good time.\" Oz\u2014who developed a painful ear infection from spending so much time in the water\u2014said \"it was difficult at times, but so what? I was with Jim. That was the joy of it.\"\n\nFilming on _The Great Muppet Caper_ lasted twenty weeks, spanning through the fall of 1980 and into early winter of 1981. While a swimming Miss Piggy had been one of the film's flashier moments, there was a quieter scene that would later be especially poignant. As Kermit sat on a park bench overlooking a lake, Jim had filmed Jerry Nelson and his daughter, Christine, walking past. \"Look, Dad, there's a bear!\" said Christine brightly, pointing to Kermit. \"No, Christine, that's a frog,\" replied Jerry. \"Bears wear _hats_.\" It was a moment Jim had put in just for a bit of fun for Christine. The following September, Christine Nelson would die of complications from cystic fibrosis at age twenty-two. Jim attended the service, his presence quietly reassuring Nelson\u2014but Jim's actions always spoke louder than any words. Several years earlier, when Henson Associates' insurance provider had notified Jim that it would no longer be paying all of Christine's medical expenses, Jim had insisted that Henson Associates change insurance companies to ensure her costs would continue to be fully covered. Nelson had gone to Jim's office and tearfully thanked him in person, nearly choking on emotion. \"Jerry,\" said Jim, smiling, \"that's what insurance companies are _for_.\"\n\nWork was rapidly progressing on the film Jim was now calling _The Dark Crystal_ , with _Muppet Show_ writer David Odell laboring to turn Jim's story outline into a workable script even as Froud continued drawing\u2014and builders continued building\u2014at the makeshift Muppet workshop on Downshire Hill. A bit of tension was beginning to develop between the Muppet builders in New York, who were doing the work on puppets for _Caper_ and _Sesame Street_ , and their counterparts in London working on _The Dark Crystal_. \"It [ _Dark Crystal_ ] had become overblown,\" said Muppet performer Kathy Mullen, who was already rehearsing with her puppet for the film. For one thing, the London shop didn't consider their creations to be mere _Muppets;_ they were building _creatures_ \u2014a distinction Jim supported, but which caused considerable eye-rolling back in New York. Worse, to the annoyance of Caroly Wilcox\u2014who claimed to be working her staff without vacation or overtime pay to meet the demands of _Caper_ 's tight shooting schedule\u2014the head of the London shop had a habit of reassigning Wilcox's builders to work on _Dark Crystal_ without clearing it with her first.\n\nTo many, _The Dark Crystal_ had become Henson's Folly\u2014a project that was not only taking up too much of Jim's time and money, but was also squandering the global success of the Muppets on a project that no one but Jim seemed to fully understand or appreciate. \"It was the focus, it was the obsession,\" said Cheryl, who spent months at a time in the London workshop between semesters at Yale. \"He worked so hard to try to make other people happy... to keep people feeling like they were a part of it. But that was hard to do, because there were a lot of people in New York who did not understand _Dark Crystal_ , did not care about _Dark Crystal_.... And it was so essential to him to complete it and get it released.\" Producer David Lazer understood Jim's obsession with his vision. \"He had it in his head, and no one else saw it,\" said Lazer. \"It was that strong.\"\n\nThe triumph that winter, however, was _Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas_ , which\u2014after three years of wheeling, dealing, and cajoling by Brillstein\u2014finally aired on ABC the week before Christmas 1980. Jim had been confident that, given a chance, the special would become a holiday staple, and _Variety_ readily agreed that it deserved to be \"a prospect for perennial usage during the holiday season.\" Critic John J. O'Connor, writing in _The New York Times_ , thought the \"charming\" special worthy of Jim and the Muppets. Jim's faith in the special had been vindicated, and _Emmet_ would be on its way to becoming an annual Christmas favorite.\n\nThe first week in February 1981, Jim left blustery, overcast London for the clearer skies of Albuquerque, New Mexico, where he would film the opening sequence for _The Great Muppet Caper\u2014_ a scene in which Kermit, Fozzie, and Gonzo float lazily in a hot air balloon as they comment on the opening credits. Jim spent much of the week with Oz and Goelz in a helicopter hovering alongside a radio-controlled hot air balloon a thousand feet in the air, performing their characters by remote control as a cameraman dangled from the bottom of a second helicopter, camera rolling. Other times, Jim would race across the desert with a chase team to steady the balloon as it came skidding in for a landing. After one particularly rough landing, the basket tipped over, spilling out the Muppets and badly scorching Fozzie in the balloon's propane burners. Luckily, Muppet builder Amy van Gilder was on hand to make the necessary repairs, earning a winking credit in _Caper_ as the official \"Muppet 'Doctor' \" for her handiwork. After each day's filming, Jim spent time with his dad and Bob at their home near the foot of the glowing Sandia Mountains, and finally wrapped shooting on _The Great Muppet Caper_ for good on February 6.\n\nWith _Caper_ complete, Jim spent the next month ping-ponging between New York and London, attending meetings on _The Dark Crystal_ \u2014now scheduled to go before the cameras in mid-April\u2014and skiing on slushy, muddy slopes in Stratton, Vermont. Then, at the end of March, came three days of pivotal meetings in London's Hyde Park Hotel, where Jim gathered a small group\u2014including Jerry Juhl, creative director Michael Frith, and writer Jocelyn Stevenson\u2014to discuss the international children's show that Peter Orton had suggested to Jim at the christening for Stevenson's son nearly a year earlier.\n\nSince that evening's conversation, Jim had been thinking, brewing, and ruminating over the possibilities. In October 1980, he had discussed the mechanics of the idea with Lazer and a young producer named Duncan Kenworthy, who had overseen the marketing of the Arabic version of _Sesame Street_ \u2014then, a few weeks later, had raised the topic with Jane, Brillstein, Oz, and Frith. Those discussions, while useful, had been largely about the business and marketing strategies for breaking into the international market.\n\nNow, in March 1981, Jim wanted to start developing the series itself\u2014an International Children's Show, he was calling it\u2014bringing Frith, Stevenson, Juhl and several others to the Hyde Park Hotel for a three-day brainstorming session. Jim's pitch to the creative team was simple: create a series that might make a difference\u2014hopefully, with a new global reach\u2014in the world at large. (\"I want to do a children's television show that will stop war,\" Jim said cheekily.) With that noble directive on the table, said Frith, \"we talked about doing a show... demonstrating how, through misconception, we can create problems that not only shouldn't be there, but can be self-destructive\u2014and how, through harmony, we can achieve strength.\"\n\nFrom the very beginning, Jim was intrigued with the idea of having three very different kinds of Muppet \"species\" linked together in some way that set up an unintentional but very necessary balance between them. \"Something that [Jim] had been observing a lot in life is that we all live within our world, but there are other worlds going on at the same time,\" said Jane Henson. \"We really don't know how the ants feel... but we know our world and we kind of think that that's it.... So he felt that he would like to do a show where there were three worlds and the struggle was to know how to keep each world strong, but also cooperate within the worlds.... He liked that, using the different worlds.\"\n\nFor three days, Jim and the creative team talked through various ideas, with Juhl and Stevenson scribbling down notes and Frith offering suggestions and drawing rough sketches of smiling, wide-eyed creatures crouched beneath underground water pipes and inside the foundations of houses. When it was over, Jim left with an armful of notes, stroking his beard thoughtfully. \"[Jim's] genius,\" said Stevenson later, \"is that he can sit through days of meetings getting completely different views from people\u2014because he brought people in there to have different views, right?\u2014and then at the end, he'd synthesize the whole thing.\" A week later, Jim did just that, synthesizing as he sat on board a Concorde flight from London to New York, compressing their three days of conversation into a treatment for a show they had decided to call _Woozle World_.\n\nThe set up for _Woozle World_ was reminiscent of Jim's 1964 pilot _The Land of Tinkerdee_ , with a live-action \"old codger\" and his Muppet dog living in a cluttered room containing a hidden door that led to the Woozles' underground world. But at the heart of Jim's proposal was the complex relationship between three different Muppet species\u2014which, at the moment, Jim and the creative team were calling Wizzles, Woozles, and Giant Wozles\u2014and how the three species might live in harmony, even if they didn't always mean to. \"What the show is really about is people getting along with other people,\" wrote Jim, \"and understanding the delicate balances of the natural world.... We will make the point that everything affects everything else, and that there is a beauty and harmony of life to be appreciated.\"\n\nSeveral weeks later, Jim installed Juhl, Frith, and Stevenson in his house on Downshire Hill where they could begin the demanding task of fleshing out the Woozle world and its inhabitants. \"Jim asked Jerry and Jocelyn and me to develop it and gave us his house to work in,\" said Frith. \"And so we just went off there for a couple of weeks... and met every day and it was a silly, wonderful, wonderful time.... We loved it.\" One of the very first orders of business, however, was the show's name, since, as Stevenson pointed out, A. A. Milne had already used the word _woozles_ in his Winnie-the-Pooh stories. Jim was open to suggestions\u2014he had noted in his handwritten draft that the name would \"likely be changed\" anyway\u2014and for a while, the group landed on the name _Googlies_ for their main characters. But Jim, who thought carefully about the way words sounded and how they tumbled around in the mouth, wasn't happy with that\u2014and after some consideration came back to the name he and Juhl had given their monsters in _The Great Santa Claus Switch_ in 1970: the abrasive sounding _Frackles_ , which was then softened to the warmer and fuzzier-sounding _Fraggles_.\n\nFor the rest of the summer, the Fraggle team built an entire universe with nearly the same fervor with which Jim had constructed the world of _The Dark Crystal_ , putting together a comprehensive guide\u2014a sort of Fraggle bible\u2014to the Fraggles and their realm. In an enormous ringed binder labeled _Things We Know About the Fraggles_ , the team polished and expanded on the parameters Jim had laid down in the _Woozle World_ treatment, transforming the \"old codger\" and his cluttered room into the kindly tinker Doc (modeled, Juhl admitted, on Muppet technowizard Faz Fazakas) and his workshop, adding a sentient trash heap, and renaming and refining the other species with whom the Fraggles interacted, from the gigantic and dim-witted Gorgs to the tiny, hardworking Doozers. \"We sat around and talked about the fact that we wanted to try to create a childhood fantasy world that had the sense of richness that we all felt in the [L. Frank Baum] _Oz_ stories from our own childhoods,\" said Juhl. \"Worlds like that are incredibly rich.\"\n\nFrith, who illustrated and wrote out much of the Fraggle compendium in his beautiful cursive longhand, also tapped into another favorite childhood tale for inspiration: the real-life story of two boys in his native Bermuda who, in 1905, crawled down a hole to retrieve a lost cricket ball and discovered the breathtakingly beautiful Crystal Cave. With that in mind, Frith conceived of moving the Fraggles beyond just the confines of the foundation of Doc's house and deeper into an endless maze of underground tunnels and caves. That concept, too, made it easy to change the name they'd agreed on for the series from the British-tinged _Fraggle Hill_ to the spunkier, edgier _Fraggle Rock_.\n\nJim was delighted with the work. With the comprehensive _Things We Know About the Fraggles_ compendium\u2014thoroughly illustrated with Frith's lively drawings\u2014Jim felt certain he could land a network and put the show into production quickly. It was his worldview and philosophy that had driven the project\u2014\" _Fraggle Rock_ was a true depiction of Jim's feelings of peace and harmony,\" said Lazer\u2014but for the first time, Jim had been content to encourage, inspire, and motivate... then get out of the way and let his creative team take over. \"I have wound up doing things in my career that I... could never have done on my own, because of Jim,\" said Juhl. \"Jim was very good at doing that to people. I don't have the driving ambitions that he had.... [I was very good at] being able to use his ambition to do the creative work that I really wanted to do.... I'd always wanted to do something really big and bold in a children's show.... He could make that show [ _Fraggle Rock_ ] happen. I couldn't have.\"\n\nFrith often remarked that Jim had given them a \"blank check\" to develop the show, but it was really more of a blank canvas\u2014one Jim had woven and sewn, then stretched and nailed over a picture frame that was precisely the size and shape he wanted. Then he had simply stepped back to let the other artists paint\u2014and still, said Stevenson, \"he'd make each one of you feel like you've made a major contribution to this. [He had] a really interesting ability to do that.\" Perhaps even more important, he had given them the luxury of _time_ \u2014the one thing he never seemed to have\u2014to thoroughly think the project through. \"Nobody's ever developed a television series better than we developed _Fraggle Rock_ ,\" said Juhl. \"It was a long, very careful process. Jim had very high aspirations for that show and wanted to make sure it was just right.\"\n\nEven as work was progressing on _Fraggle Rock_ at Jim's home in Downshire Hill, Jim was ramping up _The Dark Crystal_ at the workshop across the street. Over the last year, Jim had assembled a talented team to work alongside him on the film, giving _The Dark Crystal_ the kind of collaborative atmosphere in which Jim thrived. \"Creatively, I find I work best if I can work with someone\u2014talking things over as ideas come up,\" said Jim. \"And I do this best with people I'm very comfortable with\u2014there has to be an absolutely pressure-free situation for this to work well.\"\n\nFroud was one of those with whom Jim was very comfortable. Each thought visually and had a strong sense of design, and the two could communicate with each other in short bursts of only half-formed sentences, each seeming to intuitively know what the other wanted. Froud was the better artist, but just as with _Fraggle Rock_ , it was Jim's overarching vision of the project that drove _Dark Crystal_. Still, said Muppet builder Sherry Amott, \"there was some difficulty blending together Brian's and Jim's visions, because they often see things differently. Some of the time, it was difficult to know whom to please or how to please both. You wouldn't want to choose one idea over another but merge both into something else. That, I think, was the most challenging aspect of the project.\"\n\nBesides Froud and the team in the workshop, Jim had brought in Gary Kurtz, fresh off _The Empire Strikes Back_ , to serve as a producer, and Dick Smith\u2014the renowned special effects wizard whose makeup had convincingly aged Dustin Hoffman in _Little Big Man\u2014_ as a makeup consultant. For the music\u2014to Jim, one of the least appreciated but most important elements of a film\u2014he had personally selected Trevor Jones, an unconventional young composer who had recently scored _Excalibur_ , and who was anxious to experiment with new electronic sounds. Jim had also made the unorthodox decision to collaborate on the directing duties as well, asking Frank Oz to serve as his co-director. Oz was stunned; he had never directed before, and asked Jim why he wanted his help. \"I think it would be better,\" said Jim plainly\u2014a response Oz never forgot. \"To Jim, that was the most important thing. The quality would be better... all he wanted was to work. He just wanted good stuff, that's all.\"\n\nAs the team prepared for the April filming date, Jim loved dropping into the workshop to see what fantastic creature might be in production on any given day. The creatures were large and complex\u2014from the heavy, lumbering, carapace-shelled Garthim to the loping, long-limbed Landstriders\u2014and Jim would regularly remind designers to keep in mind that it was the puppeteer, and not the puppet, that made a performance lifelike. No matter how beautifully constructed or realistic-looking a puppet might be\u2014no matter how full of complicated mechanisms that blinked its eyes or pulled back its face into a smile\u2014if the gadgetry got in the way of the puppeteer, the performance would suffer. \"You have all of these techniques, but at the heart of all the mechanics is an actor performing a role, trying to get the subtlety of the movement,\" Jim explained. \"That's the key thing, and all the technology can merely help and expand and give you more dimension.\" For the creatures of _The Dark Crystal_ , then, Jim wanted to ensure that materials were lightweight and flexible, that any cables driving complex eye-blink or face-flexing mechanisms weren't in the performer's way, and\u2014in the case of particularly large figures\u2014that there was room underneath or inside the puppet for the performer to mount or wear a monitor.\n\nJim's ideal process was to focus the build around the puppeteer. \"When we're doing major characters that we know have to be used through the entire film... we build a very rough prototype, put it on a person, videotape it, take a look at it, and then do a critique of it,\" said Jim. \"Then we rip the whole thing apart, re-sculpt it, rebuild all the parts, and build it again.\" At times, it took three or four tries before Jim was happy with it. Heavy costumes had to be mounted on harnesses so the weight was carried on the puppeteer's hips, rather than on the back or shoulders. Jim also wanted to ensure that any large puppet, no matter how elaborate, could be put on easily and taken off quickly. \"My father had a unique way of working,\" said Brian Henson. \"He would visualize what you could do with a puppet or a person in costume before working on it. The whole film is a series of experiments in hiding people in costume, and creating movements that no one has ever seen before.\"\n\nSometimes, creating those movements required more than just puppetry skills. \"We knew when we went into this film that there would be a lot of very difficult and uncomfortable characters to perform,\" said Jim. \"So we looked for dancer\/acrobat\/mime performers\u2014people who had the physical stamina to hold up and work in hot, uncomfortable positions.\" The first ads announcing auditions for performers for _The Dark Crystal_ , in fact, didn't ask for puppeteers at all, but rather for \"Mimes, Dancers and Actors.\" After selecting his new performers, Jim brought in the European mime artist Jean-Pierre Amiel to lead them through eight grueling months of training to determine how different kinds of creatures might move and to get them into the physical shape necessary to handle what Jim knew would be a demanding shoot. Jim\u2014who never asked of performers anything he wouldn't do himself\u2014thought those performing the quiet, stooped Mystics actually had the toughest job. \"Performers were on their haunches all the way down on their rear end, walking along very bent over,\" said Jim, \"a position I could barely hold.\"\n\nFor Jim, part of the fun of creating a fantasy world wasn't just building the creatures, but creating everything else in the world as well, from plants and trees to swords and spoons. If a chair was needed in the background, for instance, the crew couldn't just grab a chair from the prop department; they had to build a chair that looked as if it belonged in Jim's fantasy world and had been made from materials found there. \"I think the idea of conceiving of and building the _Dark Crystal_ world from scratch was really appealing,\" said Jim. Working alongside the puppet designers in Downshire Hill, then, were jewelers, furniture and pottery makers, wood carvers and armor builders\u2014an enormous team of craftsmen that ballooned the workshop staff from its initial seven to more than sixty. \"We could never have tried something like _The Dark Crystal_ even a few years earlier because, until recently, we didn't have the performers, the puppet builders or the technicians who could handle the problems involved,\" said Jim. \"I think the idea for _The Dark Crystal_ came along at about the time we were ready to handle it\u2014which is basically the way things have happened all my life.\"\n\nAt last, on April 15, 1981, Jim began shooting on _The Dark Crystal_ \u2014a film he had been aching to make since 1978, and had pushed aside twice in favor of Muppet movies. \"He was trying to reach out to do some things that he hadn't been able to do by doing Muppets,\" said Jane. \"He loved the idea of trying for a different reality.\" So immersed was Jim in this world he was creating, in fact, that he had asked screenwriter David Odell not to write any dialogue for the Skeksis or Mystics. Instead, he wanted his creatures to speak a language all their own. While the film's main characters, the Gelflings Jen and Kira, would speak English, the villainous Skeksis and the wizened Mystics would communicate with a combination of squawks, grunts, groans, moans, and snippets of ancient Greek or Egyptian, making the film even _sound_ otherworldly. It was a gamble, but as he stepped onto the soundstage at Elstree to begin shooting, Jim was confident the film's visuals were strong enough to clearly convey the plot and carry the story. \"I guess I've always been most intrigued by what can be done with the visual image,\" he said later. \"I feel that is what is strongest about the work I do, even today\u2014just working with the image, the visual image.\"\n\nOdell had made the best of Jim's story outline, writing a script steeped in fantasy tradition, in which a young hero\u2014decreed by a prophecy to be the savior of his world\u2014sets out on a quest to \"heal\" a shattered crystal that will magically merge the evil Skeksis and sage Mystics back into a single, magical species, the glowing, godlike UrSkeks. \"It has a lot of elements of fairy tales and the standard fantasy elements,\" Jim said proudly\u2014but Frith, who never flinched from giving Jim his opinion, thought the plot was \"awful.\" _Dark Crystal_ was \"a story about genocide,\" Frith exclaimed, shaking his head even thirty years later. \"And what you're saying is that you can extirpate an entire race of people and then, because the stars come together right, suddenly you've become some godlike figure and everything's okay.\" Jim would hear none of it, however; that was thinking about it too much. \"We are working with primary images that appear in many stories of folk-lore and mythology,\" he explained patiently, again stressing the visuals of the film. \"I like fairy tales very much. I like what they are and what they do.\" (Oz was more typically blunt in his response: \"Well, we can't all be perfect,\" he told Frith dryly.)\n\nAs they co-directed their lavish fairy tale, Jim and Oz were a study in opposites, and some on the set likened them to Ernie and Bert: Jim in his bright, comfortable colors, grinning as he unconsciously combed at his beard with his enormous fingers; Oz in a fedora, arms folded, eyes narrowed with intensity. Despite their differences in style, he and Oz \"had pretty much come to a common feeling about what we wanted,\" said Jim. \"Besides that, we've worked together for over twenty years, so we know each other rather well.\" Still, having two directors on the set, Jim admitted, could be \"a little tricky.... Movie units are not used to two people directing them... the units had to get used to the idea of running everything by both of us.\"\n\nNot everyone got used to that idea. One assistant director pulled Jim and Oz aside to inform them that the crew was confused and wanted Jim to direct the film alone. Jim said no\u2014but looking back, Oz agreed that his involvement probably _was_ making things difficult for nearly everyone. \"Things were _not_ smooth, but it was because of me,\" said Oz. \"Things would have been smoother had I been more mature, but I was completely inexperienced. Jim should really have fired me several times because I was just this young guy who felt slighted because the crew saw Jim as the key guy. I felt I was ignored. People listened to Jim\u2014as it should be. So, I should have been fired\u2014but Jim, God bless him, just supported me. He was always patient. I'm sure I drove him crazy during that time, too, but we loved each other.\"\n\nThe _Dark Crystal_ team, from the performers through the technical crew, quickly came to respect the power Jim could convey simply through his presence and respectful silence. \"Jim didn't tell you what to do,\" said Oz. \"He just was. And by him being what he was, he led and he taught. But by not answering, sometimes you answered your own question, and you could do more than you thought you could.\" Jim spent most of his time overseeing the technical side of things, directing elaborate special effects or large, noisy, crowd scenes\u2014he especially relished working on the slobbering, gnashing Skeksis dinner banquet sequence, which had been in his story outline since the very first draft\u2014while Oz worked more closely with the performers. Already notorious for calling for retake after retake on _The Muppet Show_ , Oz continued to make similar demands on the set of _The Dark Crystal_. Jim, too, appreciated that several takes might be necessary, particularly when so many performers were trying to stay out of sight. But while Oz wanted takes to be perfect, Jim wanted takes to be right\u2014a subtle, but important difference. \"Jim had the head of a producer,\" said Lazer, \"which meant he understood you can only do two or three takes and move on... and Frank, if he didn't feel it was right, wanted to continue... and sometimes wanted to over-rehearse when Jim didn't.\"\n\nIt was also obvious to Oz that while he and Jim might generally agree on the \"common feeling\" of the film, the true visionary on the set, from day one, was always Jim. \"He saw the movie in his head,\" said Oz. \"I didn't.\" For Oz, that distinction was never more apparent than during the several days spent filming the movie's climactic scene in which the stone walls of the Skeksis castle collapse to reveal their crystalline inner structure. \"He had that all in his head,\" said Oz. \"And he'd be doing a storyboard, and thinking about doing it in sections\u2014and I'm thinking, 'I'm directing here, and I have no fucking idea what Jim's thinking or talking about.' It was his vision totally.\"\n\nJim was not only directing, he was performing one of the lead roles as well, taking on Jen, the Gelfling hero who ultimately brings order to the universe when he makes whole the Crystal of Power by merging it with the shard in his possession. Unlike most of the fantastic creatures populating _The Dark Crystal_ , Jen bore a vague resemblance to a human child\u2014a particular challenge for both the designers and the performers. \"Everyone knows how a human moves and what we look like, so you set certain expectations,\" said Froud, \"and if they are not fulfilled, people are disappointed.\" For Jim, that meant special care in figuring out how to move the puppet in a convincing or realistic manner. \"I've never done any performing that difficult in my life,\" said Jim. \"And the things that were the hardest were really ordinary things.... The Muppets can just go bouncing across the room... but when you have some characters that you have to believe in as living creatures, the movements are much more complex and subtle. Like, do you cut your eyes before you turn your head or after? Little things like that, things you normally wouldn't think about.\"\n\nWhile Wendy Midener and the puppet builders had done their best to keep Jen light and flexible\u2014she had even constructed the puppet around a mold of Jim's right hand\u2014the figure was still heavier and clunkier than Jim would have liked. Kathy Mullen\u2014only the third full-time female puppeteer in the Henson Associates stable\u2014had rehearsed with her Kira puppet all summer, and had gone back to Midener several times for modifications that had significantly reduced the puppet's weight and increased its flexibility. Jim, however, \"was just too damn busy to give it that much thought,\" said Mullen. \"I had all kinds of time.... But he never did go in and work on it. He just struggled with what he had. And he made it work because he always did\u2014but he made it hard on himself.\" Eventually, Faz Fazakas modified the Jen and Kira puppets so the delicate facial mechanisms could be operated by radio control rather than with thick cables connected to black control boxes. \"I really do believe it saved our lives,\" recalled Mullen. Freed from the restrictions of the heavy cables, Jim and Mullen could concentrate solely on their performances, and not on the need to work around the technology.\n\nAnd so it would go for nearly six months, with Jim and Oz\u2014along with cinematographer Ossie Morris and producer Gary Kurtz, who served as the lead director for the second unit\u2014working their way slowly and deliberately through each scene, creeping their cameras carefully through the massive sets sprawled across nine of Elstree's soundstages and out onto the backlot. While there were the usual challenges of filmed puppetry to overcome\u2014even the most expensive, ornate sets were still platformed up, with removable floor panels\u2014the complexity of the puppets, and the sheer number of people required to operate many of the characters, could slow things down considerably. \"You see this character walking in the woods and the audience has no idea that there are television monitors, and cables, and radio control boxes, and all these performers swarming around just out of sight,\" said Jim. \"You have to be concerned about keeping the cable crews out of shot... it's a slow process.\" Oz called it \"an exercise in logistics\"\u2014and after five months of such meticulous filming, even Ossie Morris\u2014who had shot his share of gigantic, sweeping epics\u2014could be heard muttering, \"This just never ends, does it?\" \"It was massive,\" agreed Oz.\n\nThrough it all, Jim continued to meet his obligations for _Sesame Street_ \u2014\"You went off and built this great career,\" Joan Ganz Cooney told Jim warmly, \"but you remained faithful, and I really appreciate it\"\u2014and huddled regularly with the _Fraggle Rock_ team as they continued their work on Downshire Hill. In May there was a quick sprint through Spain with John and Cheryl, and then a weekend shooting several commercials for Polaroid. Jim wasn't thrilled with the thought of getting back into doing commercials again, but after several weeks of \"grueling work\" on _Dark Crystal_ , he and the Muppet performers \"had a wonderful time\" performing their familiar Muppet characters for the Polaroid ads. \"It was just so great to get back to those same old guys again,\" said Jim, \"so we could play.\"\n\nIn June 1981, the movie featuring \"those same old guys,\" _The Great Muppet Caper_ , opened in the United States, though Jim was still at work at Elstree and could only discuss the film with American reporters via satellite feed. _Caper_ marked Jim's first effort as a director, and as he waited for the reviews to come in, it didn't take long before it was clear the film was a rousing success. _Variety_ lauded him for his \"sure hand in guiding his appealing stars through their paces\" and concluded that \"no doubt remains that Miss Piggy and Kermit are now film stars in their own right.\" That assessment of the Muppet stars was shared by Vincent Canby at _The New York Times\u2014_ always one of Jim's most devoted admirers\u2014who likened Kermit and Piggy to an old Hollywood power couple. For critic Rex Reed, the film was gloriously sentimental, full of \"humanity, tenderness and intelligence\" and \"a musical in the best tradition\"\u2014exactly as Jim had intended.\n\nOne of the film's biggest fans was Joe Raposo, Jim's songwriter of choice for the film, whose love song \"The First Time It Happens,\" would be nominated for an Academy Award. In the opening minutes of _The Great Muppet Caper_ , Jim had chosen to give Raposo a prominent on-screen credit, with \"Music and Lyrics by Joe Raposo\" appearing by itself immediately following the film's title card\u2014and Raposo, who knew nothing of the credit until watching the movie in a theater\u2014was nearly moved to tears by the gesture.\n\nJim completed primary filming on _The Dark Crystal_ in early September 1981, marking the occasion with a party for the movie's first unit at Stringfellow's nightclub in London. For the rest of the autumn he would continue to oversee filming by Kurtz and the second unit on various locations around England before hunkering down for the winter with film editor Ralph Kemplen to assemble the final film. With _Crystal_ winding down and heading into postproduction, Jim was ready to turn his attention to other projects\u2014mainly _Fraggle Rock_ \u2014but he wasn't the only one who was preparing for a change.\n\nAfter six years at Jim's side, David Lazer informed Jim that he had decided to take an extended leave of absence. Lazer had battled with various aches and pains since childhood\u2014the symptoms resembled Lyme disease\u2014and now, at age forty-three, he was suffering from nearly debilitating arthritis, which had worsened over the last six years of almost nonstop work. Now he wanted to retire to Long Island to recover his health and oversee the construction of a house\u2014and while he would retain his title as executive vice president and promised to continue to assist Jim as a producer for future films, he was removing himself from both the day-to-day operations of the company and television production. Jim took Lazer to a small dinner in London with Brian and Wendy Froud, then put him on a flight for New York the week before wrapping _Dark Crystal_ , allowing Lazer to depart quietly, with little fuss or fanfare, just as he had asked\u2014or so Lazer thought. Three months later, on the day after Christmas, Jim and Brian pulled up in front of Lazer's house in a brand-new $35,000 limited edition black Mercedes coup\u00e9. Jim and Brian stepped out of the car, which they'd driven shoeless so as not to scuff or muddy up the car's floor mats, and handed Lazer the keys. \"[Jim] was just like a little kid, beaming,\" said Lazer.\n\nAs Lazer's replacement, Jim brought back Diana Birkenfield, his producer from the late 1960s and early 1970s who had often rattled him with her frank appraisals of projects. Despite Birkenfield departing under a cloud in 1974, there were no doubts that the renewed professional relationship would work. \"Yeah, she was absolutely no bullshit,\" said Oz, \"but she was also very good at her job. For Jim, that was really all that mattered.\" With Birkenfield in place, Jim could now focus on _Fraggle Rock_ , a project that was falling into place with a cheerful efficiency entirely in tune with _Fraggle_ 's colorful optimism.\n\nJim had Brillstein making the rounds among television networks with the comprehensive _Fraggle Rock_ proposal, and was so confident the series would sell that he had put the show into preproduction in Toronto without a firm deal in place. Part of the preproduction process involved finding the right performers for each of _Fraggle_ 's five main characters, which had been built according to Frith's designs and now sat on workshop tables in New York. In early November, Jim called in all the major Muppet puppeteers and asked them to perform with each Fraggle\u2014and with each other\u2014to see if they could come up with characters. Such freewheeling play had helped define and hone the characters on _The Muppet Show_ , and Jim wanted to see how his performers ad-libbed and bounced off of each other. Partly, it had to do with finding the right chemistry between the five main characters, consisting of four distinctive character types\u2014the athlete, the artist, the worrywart, and the indecisive one\u2014revolving around a steady central character. It was the _Pogo_ formula all over again, an approach that Jim's fellow _Pogo_ fans Frith and Juhl said was intentional. \"We said, 'All right, we're going to have five characters... each of whom is a different wedge of the pie,' \" said Frith. \"But when you put them all together, you get the _whole_ pie.\"\n\nMore important, for the first time Jim would not be performing any of the show's central characters; with Jim out of the eye of the Muppet hurricane, then, getting the chemistry right was critical. Frith, an admirer of Jerry Nelson and in awe of his singing voice, had always intended for Nelson to serve as the show's anchor in the lead role of Gobo\u2014the role to which he was eventually assigned\u2014but Jim still wanted each performer trying out different characters in case sparks flew among an unexpected combination of puppeteers. Karen Prell, for example, who came into the casting call hoping to land the role of the introspective poet Mokey, found herself assigned instead to the outgoing athlete Red. \"But I really have to thank Jim for wanting to try me as Red,\" said Prell, \"because it was obviously the perfect thing to bring out a lot of crazy Red stuff in myself that I guess he could see.\" Dave Goelz, who was given the role of the fretful Boober, was convinced that Jim and the _Fraggle_ writers had known all along which performer would play what role, and merely wanted to confirm their instincts through the auditions. \"I think we went through the motions of playing around with the puppets in New York before we went to Toronto to shoot,\" related Goelz. However, Steve Whitmire, who was handed the amiable but indecisive Wembley, wasn't so sure. \"I really pushed to do that character [Wembley], but we did ad-lib sort of improvisations.... I'm not sure how that ended up happening the way it did. I think it happened the best way that it could have happened.\"\n\nIn the middle of casting, Brillstein informed Jim that he had found a home for _Fraggle Rock_ \u2014but not with one of the major networks. Instead, Brillstein had placed the series with the subscriber cable channel HBO, which opted to co-produce the show along with Henson Associates, the British television company Television South, and the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. With only nine million subscribers, HBO's viewership was still small\u2014Jim didn't even have cable, much less HBO, at his home in Bedford\u2014but HBO was aggressively working to expand its subscriber base and promised creative freedom and a high profile for the Fraggles, intending for _Fraggle Rock_ to be its first original weekly series\u2014the colorful ancestor to later original series like _The Larry Sanders Show_ and _The Sopranos_.\n\nHBO was also hoping to have the series ready for broadcast in early 1983. Since each season would contain twenty-four episodes\u2014and Jim intended for the team to keep to the one-episode-per-week pace they had maintained for _The Muppet Show_ \u2014that meant Jim had to begin shooting as quickly as possible. In preparation, the _Fraggle Rock_ performers were sent to Toronto to spend several weeks rehearsing and improvising their characters, \"just kind of finding out who they were,\" said Kathy Mullen, who was assigned the role of Mokey.\n\nJim, meanwhile, returned to a cold and snowy London to oversee work on _The Dark Crystal_ , spending several days in January 1982 at Abbey Road Studios with composer Trevor Jones as the London Symphony Orchestra recorded the film's music. Like the puppets in _Dark Crystal_ , the music, too, was a fusion of the traditional and the technological, and Jones had brought several unconventional instruments into the session that seemed to embody this approach, carting in a synthesizer and a ninteenth-century double flageolet, a woodwind instrument that produced a droning, otherworldly sound. \"I like to think [that what] my music did is bridge the gap between the world that wasn't real and the audience, giving a sense of a real world to something that is totally unreal,\" said Jones later. \"In that process the hardest thing to do was trying to enter the mind of Jim and think of the things he wanted for his film.\" As so many others had come to understand, Jones could see that Jim saw\u2014and heard\u2014the entire movie in his head. \"He knew how great the score would be,\" said Jones, \"he just wanted me to discover it for myself.\"\n\nThings were far less harmonious outside Abbey Road Studios, however. That January, Lord Grade had found himself suddenly, almost inexplicably, driven out as the head of his own organization, now broadly known as the Associated Communications Corporation, or ACC. The culprit was a soft-spoken but ruthless Australian entrepreneur named Robert Holmes \u00e0 Court, a corporate raider who acquired real estate, oil and gas producers, and television and film studios as casually as other businessmen collected cuff links. Over the past eighteen months, Holmes \u00e0 Court had vacuumed up non-voting shares in Grade's ACC, then worked his way onto Grade's board, where he stealthily acquired more stock. By January 1982, he finally had enough leverage to force Grade from his own company. \"It was a clash of an old-style film mogul-entrepreneur with our more disciplined management style,\" said Holmes \u00e0 Court.\n\nThat sort of management style was bound to grate on Jim, who still preferred doing business with a handshake over a good meal. \"Holmes \u00e0 Court was a cold, carpetbagger businessman,\" said Oz. \"He's just money and power, that's all. And to Lew, that's not what it was about. Jim was like Lew. Their spirits were together.\" But with Grade out, Jim was forced to deal with Holmes \u00e0 Court as his new overlord at ACC\u2014and on January 17, Jim and Holmes \u00e0 Court met at ACC's Great Cumberland Place headquarters near Hyde Park, mostly just so the two of them could size each other up. Jim likely left with a bad taste in his mouth. To Holmes \u00e0 Court, who knew little or nothing about filmmaking, Jim and his projects were merely lines in an accounting ledger, assets to be traded and sold when they were no longer of interest. Jim was determined to get _Dark Crystal_ away from him as quickly as possible.\n\nIt was far cheerier back in Toronto, where Jim arrived in early March to oversee the beginning of production on _Fraggle Rock_. Jim would direct seven episodes of _Fraggle_ during its first season and occasionally perform several recurring characters\u2014but once the show was up and running, he was content to turn the show almost entirely over to the _Fraggle_ team. \" _Fraggle Rock_ is the first show that I personally didn't have to be involved with every day,\" Jim said later. \"A group split off to do that, and it's worked out very nicely.\" \"He just let it be what it was,\" said Steve Whitmire.\n\nBy letting go, Jim was growing and nurturing the talent within his company\u2014and he was impressed with the work that was being done on _Fraggle Rock_. While Jim had checked over Frith's designs during the show's development, he'd stepped back from trying to influence the overall look or feel, giving Frith a free hand to create a universe in much the same way he'd encouraged Froud to determine much of the look of _TheDark Crystal_. \"I think of myself as fairly limited as a designer. Michael is much better than I am,\" Jim said generously, \"and he has been just right for _Fraggle Rock_.\"\n\nHe also loved the technology that was being integrated seamlessly into the Fraggle world, from the tiny, radio-controlled Doozers and their equipment that rolled and rumbled across the set, to the gigantic, walkaround Gorgs with their remote-controlled mouths. \"Jim was a huge gadget fan,\" said Brian Henson. \"He just loved them. When the first Sony Walkman came out, he had to go out and buy one straight away. He loved the magical properties of technology.\" The Gorgs in particular were another leap in puppetry, using the lessons\u2014and technologies\u2014from the _Dark Crystal_ experience to allow the puppeteers a much more fluid motion for their performance. \" _Dark Crystal_ was a $25 million R&D project for _Fraggle Rock_ ,\" said Michael Frith, \"because all that stuff that we invented for _Dark Crystal_ I rolled right into _Fraggle Rock_.\"\n\nWhile the Gorgs appeared to be simple walkaround Muppets like Big Bird, there were actually two performers at work: one inside the full-body costume, and a second sitting just off-camera performing the mouth and eyes using a radio-controlled device called a _waldo_. The waldo resembled a high-tech oven mitt\u2014and once Richard Hunt had his hand inside of it, he could bring his thumb and fingers together to remotely open and close the mouth of Junior Gorg ten feet away. Since the performer inside the costume didn't have to work the puppet's mouth, both arms were freed up, making the puppet's movements even more lifelike. \"Neat,\" said Jim appreciatively.\n\nOn the occasions when Jim did come in to perform or direct, said Steve Whitmire, \"it was very special.\" Jim loved playing the two characters writers Jerry Juhl and Jocelyn Stevenson had created for him\u2014most likely because each channeled a very specific part of Jim's own personality. Like _The Dark Crystal_ 's UrSkeks, magically cleft into two disparate beings, Jim could well have been split into his two _Fraggle Rock_ characters: the soft-spoken sage Cantus\u2014who dispensed wisdom in enigmatic, Zen-like nuggets (\"There are no rules... and those are the rules\")\u2014and the energetic, persuasive Convincing John, who could talk the Fraggles into doing _anything_. Cantus in particular became one of Jim's favorite characters to perform. \"[Cantus] was great,\" said Stevenson, \"because he was goofy and wise at the same time, kind of like Jim was in real life.\"\n\nApart from its noble theme of global community, what truly aimed _Fraggle Rock_ directly at the international market was its framing sequence, or the \"home base,\" as Jim called it\u2014the real-world workshop occupied by Doc and his dog, Sprocket, with the small door that opened onto the Fraggles' world. \"The idea,\" said Jim, \"was that we would do this home-base segment in different countries, replacing the Doc character with one developed especially for whichever country we were in,\" and then edit these locally produced sequences back into the master show. In France, then, the Fraggle hole would be in a former bakery overseen by a chef and his dog Croquette, while in England the Fraggles existed in a lighthouse presided over by a crusty sailor known as the Captain.\n\n_Fraggle Rock_ would make its debut on HBO on January 10, 1983, and become an immediate hit, embraced not only by viewers, but by critics, who hailed it as \"completely endearing\" and \"fetchingly whimsical.\" During its five-year run, _Fraggle Rock_ would eventually be broadcast in over ninety countries\u2014many of which dubbed their local language in over Jim's English-speaking version\u2014but Jim even managed to break into a foreign market no one ever expected: the Soviet Union. In 1989, at Jim's urging, the Soviet Union's governing television body _Gosteleradio_ televised an episode of _Fraggle Rock_ and was stunned when it drew \"unprecedented\" ratings and more than three thousand fan letters. Intrigued, _Gosteleradio_ added both _Fraggle Rock_ and _The Muppet Show_ to its fall broadcast schedule, making them the first Western television series to air on Soviet television. It was groundbreaking, goodwill television\u2014or, as Jim called it with typical understatement, \"a very nice project.\"\n\nOn March 19, 1982, Jim was finally ready to unveil the first full edit of _The Dark Crystal_ at a special sneak preview in Washington, D.C. The purpose of the preview, wrote Jim in a memo to his staff, was \"to make final decisions regarding the editing of the film as well as the audio and the music.\" He had spent the last few weeks dubbing sound for the film, and he was still certain that having the Mystics and Skeksis speak their own foreign language was the right decision\u2014that the visuals and the performance alone would be enough to clearly tell the story.\n\nMichael Frith wasn't so confident. Months earlier, while he and Juhl were still in London working on _Fraggle Rock_ , Jim had excitedly asked the two of them to watch one of the first segments he had edited together, the enormous and loud Skeksis banquet scene that Jim absolutely loved. Frith and Juhl sat in the darkened screening room and watched as the Skeksis cackled and hooted at each other in their own language, a scene that seemed to be \"going on forever,\" Frith lamented. Afterward, Frith walked down to the reception area where Jim was slouched down on a sofa, hands folded across his stomach, waiting for Frith's verdict. \"What did you think?\" Jim asked brightly. \"Jim, there's one thing I just have to say,\" Frith began slowly. But Jim was already sinking down farther into the couch, pulling a sofa pillow down over his ears in mock surrender. \"I know what you're going to say!\" Jim laughed. \"I'm not listening! _I'm not listening!_ \"\n\n\"He knew,\" said Frith. \"I said, 'Jim, I have _no idea_ what that scene was about. You've got to have them talk or at least give them subtitles.'... But he believed that the story would unfold and be clear through the actions and the personalities of the characters.\" On the day of the Washington preview, Jim still believed it\u2014and he had proudly invited his father to attend the showing of what he regarded as \"close to being an epic\" film as he might get. \"He was so proud of it,\" said Cheryl. \"He had his father come up to see it. And the audience hated it.\"\n\n\"Not great,\" Jim reported in his private journal after the preview\u2014and that was putting it mildly. The audience was baffled. As the theater emptied, Jim slowly stood up and walked out, stunned. He had made \"a big miscalculation that you could understand a story with just visual language,\" said Lisa Henson. \"[He thought] you could watch it like an opera... and you would be able to understand the story even if you only understood snippets of dialogue and language. And this was completely wrong. People wanted to understand every word of it.\" Executives at ACC and Universal\u2014which had picked up the film's distribution rights\u2014were similarly confused. An earlier private screening for film company executives hadn't gone well, either. \"The movie went off,\" said Oz, \"and there was dead silence.\"\n\nJim was crushed. \"He felt the studio was trying to make it into something that they felt the audience would want\u2014and I don't think that Jim was too interested in working for that,\" said Jane. \"He sincerely did not believe that you... get an audience by trying to please them; you get an audience by doing good work.\" But in its current state, _The Dark Crystal_ seemed to ACC and Universal to be nothing more than a $25 million art film, an expensive failed experiment. Cheryl remembered being \"very anxious\" for her father. \"[There was] that sense of dismay,\" said Cheryl, \"and I think that it was very hard for my father\u2014and he rose above it.\"\n\nThere was nothing to do but go back and redub the entire movie with English dialogue. Screenwriter David Odell was dispatched to begin the difficult task of drafting dialogue that not only conveyed the plot, but also matched the mouth movements and gestures of the puppets. \"It was a huge overhaul,\" said Lisa, and for weeks, Odell hunched over a videotape of the film in a hotel toom, \"running a tape backwards and forward,\" recalled Odell, \"counting lip flaps to see where we could put dialogue that would sync with the action.\" Odell completed the task by early June, and Jim sprinted to London to begin the final mix for _The Dark Crystal_ , recording new character voices with English actors\u2014including Barry Dennen and Billie Whitelaw, who had chewed the scenery as _The Omen_ 's demonic nanny\u2014and then spent several weeks synchronizing the voices with the visuals. In mid-July, four months after the disastrous Washington preview, Jim headed back to the States, bound for Detroit, where he would again try _Dark Crystal_ before an audience.\n\n\"A bit better,\" Jim wrote afterward in his journal, but as he left the preview he was becoming more discouraged by the moment. While the dubbed language had taken care of the main problem, Holmes \u00e0 Court's bankers were meddling in things now, asking for more changes, this time relating to the story and to what Jim regarded as the underlying philosophy of the film. The Mystics, they thought, were \"too boring\"; they recommended that Jim reduce their screen time and devote more attention to the Skeksis, which the audience seemed to like. Jim _hmmmm_ ed politely, then sank silently into his seat. \"He felt that the movie was about a balance,\" said Jane, \"and when they wanted to take out a lot of the Mystic stuff... and made it much too heavy on the Skeksis, it turned it into a different and darker thing.... Because Jim was actually much more interested in the Mystic side of it.\"\n\nThat kind of pressure was almost more than he could bear\u2014but when ACC insisted on participating in the editing process, Jim decided he'd had enough. \"I can't work like this,\" he said flatly. \"I've got to get these guys out of here.\" \"There was really only one thing he could do,\" said John Henson. The moment he returned to the Henson Associates offices at One Seventeen in New York, Jim called Bernie Brillstein. \"I'm going to buy back _The Dark Crystal_ ,\" he told the agent.\n\nBrillstein was stunned. \"How much?\" he finally stammered into the phone, and was further shocked when Jim explained that he was planning to take all the cash he had on hand\u2014about $15 million, most of it revenue from Muppet merchandise\u2014and make Holmes \u00e0 Court an offer. \"You're crazy,\" Brillstein exploded. \"Anyone who invests in their own movie is nuts!\" But Jim wasn't hearing it. \"Bernie, I don't like what they're doing with it,\" he said\u2014and the two of them went back and forth for several minutes, their voices growing louder and louder, their sentences more clipped.\n\n\"And then,\" recalled Brillstein, smiling at the memory years later, \"he hits me with it, the son of a bitch\u2014and I love him.\" Quietly, Jim reminded Brillstein of their conversation from fifteen years earlier, when Brillstein had urged Jim to license his Muppet characters for merchandising. _If it works like I think it's gonna work_ , Brillstein had said then, _you will be financially independent and you can use the money for your own independence_. He was buying his independence and creative freedom. \"You told me I could do this,\" said Jim calmly.\n\n\"What do you say?\" recalled Brillstein. \"He nailed me.\" Jim was determined, but Brillstein was still nervous about the deal. As far as he was concerned, it was just Jim's whim of steel again, and Brillstein spoke at length with both Al Gottesman and David Lazer, still in retirement on Long Island, to see if there was any way to talk Jim out of it. It was clear there wasn't. \"That was a business decision no one could dissuade him from,\" said Gottesman. Even Jane, who was conservative when it came to financial decisions\u2014especially those requiring such leaps of faith as gigantic as this one\u2014knew it was useless to try to talk Jim down. The movie meant too much to him. \"When he had made up his mind,\" said Lazer, \"there was no deterring him. Money couldn't deter him. People's opinion couldn't do it. He went ahead and did what he felt was right. And most of the time, he was right.\"\n\nIn less than a month, Jim owned _The Dark Crystal_. While he would still have to deal with Universal as the distributor, he had gotten himself entirely away from Holmes \u00e0 Court and ACC, paying $15 million cash to relieve the mogul of Grade's initial $25 million investment. It was an enormous risk not only for Henson Associates but for Jim personally\u2014and John Henson remembered being terrified as a teenager that the family was going to lose everything. \"It was a huge gamble,\" said Cheryl. Despite the hand-wringing around him, Jim had remained unflappable during the entire transaction; it had seemed only logical. \"It was a good deal,\" he told Oz.\n\nAfter much back-and-forthing with Universal, the studio finally agreed to release _The Dark Crystal_ nationally the week before Christmas 1982. In the months leading up to the December release, Jim was determined to build a buzz about the film, making a presentation at the World Science Fiction Convention in Chicago, producing a behind-the-scenes documentary, and opening _Dark Crystal_ \u2013related exhibits at the Craft Gallery in Los Angeles and at New York's Lincoln Center Library. Most ambitious, perhaps, he had also asked the costumers in the London workshop to create a _Dark Crystal_ Clothing Collection\u2014described by its designers as \"dramatic haute couture\"\u2014to be sold exclusively through four high-end boutiques, including Jim's favorite, Liberty's of London. The fashion line ended up being more notable for its flashy window displays, which used puppets and props from the film, than for its sales\u2014but for Jim, who appreciated craftsmanship and design, the fun had been more in the doing than in the selling.\n\nIn early December, Jim, Oz, and producer Gary Kurtz began a worldwide press tour to promote _The Dark Crystal_ , set to premiere in New York in mid-December. Anticipation for the film was high\u2014Jim's name was enough to stir up interest in almost any project\u2014but as he made the rounds with television reporters and newspaper writers, it was becoming clear he had a problem. After watching clips of Skeksis and Mystics and Gelflings, reporters were baffled. \"What happened to the Muppets in your new movie?\" was the typical question, and rather than talking about the film, Jim found himself instead trying to manage expectations. \"They're not there,\" he explained patiently, \"and that is one of the reasons I'm doing some PR on this movie... so that people won't go expecting one thing and see something else.... There are two totally different dimensions going on here.\"\n\nStill, when Jim could finally turn the conversation to the film, his excitement was palpable. He loved when interviewers were dazzled by the creatures they saw and demanded to know how Jim had done it. \"We're not telling!\" Jim grinned. \"This is a very exciting time to be making movies,\" he said. \"With all of the developments in special effects\u2014makeup, opticals, matte work\u2014I think we can create just about anything on film that the imagination can conceive. So I hope I'll be able to continue working in this area, because I'm having a great time.\"\n\n_The Dark Crystal_ premiered in New York on December 13, 1982. The early reviews weren't promising. _The New York Times_ 's Vincent Canby, who wanted desperately to like the movie, couldn't muster up much enthusiasm for what he called \"a watered down J. R. R. Tolkien.\" Canby quickly zeroed in on the problem: \"A lot of obvious effort has gone into this solemn fairy tale,\" he wrote, \"but all of it has been devoted to the complicated technical problems.... [The] story by Mr. Henson, is without any narrative drive whatever. It's without charm as well as interest.\" Worse, he found the characters \"unexceptional\" and designed without any sense of \"humor or wit.\"\n\nStill, it wasn't all bad. Following its December 17 nationwide opening, a reviewer for _The Washington Post_ was so awed by the film's visuals he could hardly bother to concern himself with the story, noting, \"Jim Henson and his colleagues have reached a point where they can create and sustain a powerfully enchanting form of cinematic fantasy.\" _The Boston Globe_ found it \"enjoyable [and] imaginative,\" while _Variety_ was generally positive, saying the story was \"sketchy\" but \"well handled.\"\n\nThe mixed response was typical. \" _The Dark Crystal_ really polarized opinion,\" said Brian Henson. \"People who liked it, loved it. But others were not so keen.\" Generally, though, the reaction from moviegoers was a disinterested shrug. While _Dark Crystal_ was impressive\u2014\"ambitious\" was the word used most often to describe it\u2014it just wasn't much fun. \"I find that often the most effective things we do are simple,\" Jim had once said, \"and that elaborate production does not always add to the entertainment value of the film.\" That was the biggest problem with _The Dark Crystal;_ for the first time, Jim had let spectacle get in the way of the story. His vision had come first, the story second\u2014and the audience, usually willing to meet Jim more than halfway, had been unforgiving.\n\nStill, _Dark Crystal_ performed steadily and respectably, grossing $40 million during its initial nine-week release, well over the $15 million Jim had paid Holmes \u00e0 Court for it. The gamble had paid off\u2014but for Jim, _The Dark Crystal_ had never been about profit and loss; it was about vision and inspiration, and the fact that audiences didn't or couldn't appreciate it hurt him terribly. \"I felt sad for Jim,\" said Oz. \"I helped him with _Dark Crystal_ , and I learned an incredible amount, but it wasn't my vision. I just felt bad for him.\"\n\n\"I thought I had failed miserably and I just couldn't watch it,\" said Kathy Mullen, who had spent six months performing Kira. Over time, however, she came to appreciate what had been accomplished. \"What you have here is something that could never have been done before and will never be done again,\" she said. \"It stands alone as the only all-hand-puppet, all-live-action extravaganza ever made.... Today you'd rely on computers or visual effects to accomplish all that we did. But back then, everything on the screen\u2014 _everything_ \u2014was handmade.... That makes _The Dark Crystal_ a unique artifact from a unique moment in media history. I think that's a phenomenal thing.\"\n\nOz, however, thought it was even simpler than that. \"The most impressive thing is that _it was done at all_. It came from Jim's head and it actually happened. Yeah, it didn't go over quite the way Jim wanted. But he's a phoenix,\" said Oz, \"he rose again.\"\n\n# **CHAPTER TWELVE**\n\n#\n\n# TWISTS AND TURNS  \n1982\u20131986\n\n_Jim with the heroes of 1986's_ Labyrinth. (photo credit 12.1)\n\n\"WE HAVE BEEN VERY PLEASED WITH THE RESULTS OF _T HE DARK CRYSTAL_,\" wrote Jim in early 1983\u2014and with good reason. Despite Universal's marked lack of faith and a tepid response from critics, _Dark Crystal_ ended up being one of the most successful films distributed by the studio in 1982, eventually grossing over $60 million worldwide in less than a year. Part of its success was likely due to Jim's active promotion, especially in the foreign market; in the first three months of 1983, Jim traveled to Italy, England, Germany, France, Spain, Japan, and Australia (\"first time,\" Jim noted in his journal) to chat about the film.\n\nIf Jim had been frustrated by moviegoers who didn't seem to appreciate the art of _The Dark Crystal_ , he found a much more receptive audience among science fiction and fantasy fans who more fully understood just how groundbreaking the film was. In France, _Dark Crystal_ was awarded the best film at the Avoriaz Fantastic Film Festival, while the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films presented Jim with its prestigious Saturn Award for Best Fantasy Film\u2014not bad for a year in which it was competing with heavy hitters like _E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial_ and _Blade Runner_. For Jim, the critical acclaim was even more gratifying than the financial success. \"[ _The Dark Crystal_ ] was a huge undertaking\u2014a vision I had,\" he wrote, \"and one which ultimately has helped to carry our art form to a more sophisticated and technically advanced stage. The most important thing, however, is to love what you're doing and to go after those visions, no matter where they lead.\"\n\nAlthough his schedule in early 1983 sent him leaping from continent to continent for press junkets for _Dark Crystal_ and to Toronto to work intermittently on _Fraggle Rock_ , for the first time in more than seven years Jim had neither a weekly series nor a film in production. For all his involvement with _Fraggle_ , its day-to-day operation was left largely in the hands of producers Diana Birkenfield and Larry Mirkin. That left him time to do a bit of skiing and dog sledding in Aspen in January, followed by a two-day vacation with family at the recently opened EPCOT theme park at Walt Disney World, a place Jim quickly came to love.\n\nAs she watched Jim interact with the cast of _Fraggle Rock_ that winter, Diana Birkenfield\u2014who had only recently returned to Henson Associates after seven years away\u2014thought Jim had changed much in the last decade. _The Muppet Show_ had made both Jim and his characters internationally famous; wherever he went now, he was recognized\u2014and, indeed, was slightly flabbergasted if he was _not_. While living in London, he flitted from private club to private club, drove to the theater in his low-slung Lotus, hosted loud dinner parties, and joyously flew kites on Hampstead Heath. Those experiences, that lifestyle, had made him more cultivated and\u2014though he might argue otherwise\u2014trendier and hipper.\n\nAnd he even _looked_ hipper. While Jim would always enjoy bright colors and would continue wearing fashionably cozy and flashy Missoni sweaters, he had lately begun dressing entirely in white, wearing white linen pants and comfortable jackets with no tie, with white canvas shoes. He had even become a \"white meat vegetarian,\" eating only vegetables with white fish or chicken, and drinking _kir_ or white wine. His beard was more tightly trimmed now, shaped closer to his face, and his hair, lightly flecked with gray, was cut shorter, and often swept back, falling just onto his collar and exposing a very visible widow's peak. He had to wear glasses every now and then, too, sporting chic, rectangular lenses in tortoiseshell frames that shaped his face and made him look studious.\n\nThere were some who grumbled that he looked and acted as if he had \"gone Hollywood\"\u2014an accusation Jerry Juhl thought was inevitable for anyone who happened to make films. \"In this business, there is nothing more compelling, more exciting [than]... feature films,\" said Juhl kindly. \"There's something seductive about the process.... I think Jim really felt it. He really loved it. And got caught up in it.\" Bernie Brillstein thought it was more about celebrating and enjoying success and fame. \"He loved the good things,\" said Brillstein. \"And he loved to be in the world of celebrities.\"\n\nYet, when it came to family, Jim remained as grounded as ever. A devoted and diligent son, he had always made an effort to visit his father whenever he could, dropping into Albuquerque on his way to California, and was now traveling regularly to and from Ahoskie, North Carolina, where he was having a house built for his dad and Bobby. But it was the five Henson children who would always be the most important part of his life\u2014he frequently alluded to them as his proudest accomplishment\u2014and Jim would work with some, and travel and vacation with others.\n\nAnd then there was Jane. Their marriage had grown increasingly fractious over the last decade; further, it had become well known that Jim had dated several women while in London\u2014including some of his own employees\u2014and Jim did little to deny or defend his reputation for a wandering eye. Even in the Muppet workshops, there would always be whispering about which female employee Jim might favor at a given moment, though such conversations rarely erupted into the open. Still, Jim was mindful of Jane's feelings, doing his best to do his going out\u2014as Jane still called it\u2014as discreetly as he could. Discussing it with Jane wasn't his style, and hurt feelings weren't Jim's way; instead, he merely compartmentalized his life into two distinct pieces, Work Jim and Home Jim, with one on each side of the Atlantic. \"He wanted my mom to be happy,\" said Cheryl, \"and he wanted it all to be okay, so he wound up living a London life and a New York life.\"\n\nNow, however, with _Dark Crystal_ completed and the London workshop idle, Jim's London life had come to an end. After years in the house in bustling and picturesque Hampstead, it was time to return to the suburbs of Bedford, New York\u2014and to Jane. One afternoon, Jane came home to find Jim looking wistfully at his surroundings and at the life they had built in Bedford. \"I can't come back here,\" he told Jane quietly. In fact, he told her, he had already found himself an apartment on the nineteenth floor of the upscale Sherry-Netherland hotel in Manhattan. \"Fine,\" said Jane, mistakenly thinking Jim was merely looking for a place in the city where he could stay when he was working, instead of camping in the top-floor suite of One Seventeen as he usually did. Over omelets the next morning, Jane asked Jim how they would decorate the new apartment. \"I thought we were sort of still doing things together, like we did in the house in London,\" said Jane. But Jim just shook his head. \"This time,\" he said softly, \"I'm doing it by myself.\"\n\nRefusing Jane's help with the decorating was an indication of the state of their marriage\u2014and was likely as confrontational as Jim was ever going to get about it. \"It was the first time that had ever happened,\" said Jane. \"It felt very poignant.\" Yet, Jim _still_ wasn't ready to ask for a divorce. \"Jim wanted to be separated _and_ married,\" Jane said. \"He wanted to do both. He didn't really _not_ want to be married.\" The truth was, Jim loved the idea of family. \"He could have asked for a divorce at any time, but he didn't, and neither did I,\" said Jane. \"He held the family together. He liked to come home to a house and kids and pets.\"\n\nAfter much discussion, however, Jim and Jane agreed to legally separate\u2014a \"handshake of a separation,\" Jane would call it\u2014something that would permit Jim to \"have an above-board independent life,\" said Lisa Henson, allowing him to openly have other relationships, without the associated guilt he always felt. Typically, Jim favored keeping the proceedings as quiet as possible, asking Al Gottesman and Karen Barnes\u2014two of Henson Associates' most trusted and discreet attorneys\u2014to represent him and Jane in the negotiations. It was an ill-advised jumbling of private and professional affairs, tangling company business in Jim and Jane's private disagreement\u2014and things \"escalated quickly,\" remarked Jane, with the most contentious point being Jane's rightful share in Henson Associates. It was \"painful and inevitable,\" recalled Lisa, and the finalized agreement would separate Jane not only from Jim, but from the company she had helped him found and build more than two decades ago.\n\nThe formal separation would remain in place for the rest of Jim's life\u2014and the stack of legal papers would eventually tower to nearly a foot high, with an eye toward divvying up the company and permanently dissolving their marriage. Heather Henson, then twelve, remembered being \"really upset\" and burst into tears when she learned her parents were separating and heading toward divorce. \"There was a part of me that wanted them to stay married, even though all this hoo-hah was going on,\" said Heather later. For now, Jim and Jane would officially separate, and Jane and Heather would remain in the house in Bedford while Jim moved out of the suburbs and into his Fifth Avenue apartment in the sky. As if modeling himself on the UrSkeks in _The Dark Crystal_ , he was at last merging his two separate selves\u2014Work Jim and Home Jim\u2014into a single Jim Henson.\n\nAs the weather warmed, Jim had two major projects under way. The first was another Muppet-related movie\u2014at the moment titled simply _Muppet Movie III_ \u2014that he was planning to put before the cameras in late spring. Jim had decided to serve as a producer of the film, along with David Lazer, but had placed the directing duties squarely in the hands of Frank Oz. \"I was looking at the year ahead and I thought my own life was going to be very busy,\" said Jim, \"and I thought maybe this is a time to have Frank try directing one of these.... He went into shock first, then said he wanted a couple of days to think about it.\" Oz didn't need long to tell Jim yes. \"I had learned a lot about directing by co-directing with Jim on _The Dark Crystal_ , and I think he just felt at this point he could trust me not to fuck it up,\" said Oz. \"I think by producing it with Dave, Jim could be a part of it and still do other things he wanted to do.\"\n\nWhat Jim really wanted to do was his _other_ project\u2014another sprawling, ambitious collaboration with Brian Froud, based on an idea the two of them had cooked up in a limo as they left a lackluster showing of _The Dark Crystal_ in San Francisco. As the limo pulled away from the theater, Jim and Froud stared at each other in stunned silence. Then Jim started giggling. \"The next one will be _so much better_!\" laughed Jim, and excitedly began describing several Eastern and Indian folktales he had heard from Lisa, who was studying mythology at Harvard. Jim pictured colorful gods soaring across the sky\u2014but Froud was quiet; that sort of folklore, he told Jim, wasn't really his forte; he much preferred goblin stories. Jim brightened. \"Great!\" he said\u2014but explained that he didn't want to repeat what he thought had been _The Dark Crystal_ 's most fatal flaw. \"This time,\" he told Froud, \"I want _people_ in the film.\"\n\nWhile the lack of live actors actually wasn't _Crystal_ 's biggest problem, the suggestion of a human cast was enough for Froud to begin to address what really _had_ been the film's main weakness: the story. \"I immediately pictured a baby surrounded by goblins,\" said Froud, \"[and] I told Jim that traditionally goblins steal babies.\" Jim nodded and _hmmm_ ed thoughtfully. \"That's the beginning of our story,\" he told Froud, \"but what else?\" Froud was stumped, but suggested that perhaps a maze \"would make a really good metaphor for the soul's journey.\"\n\nJim was intrigued by Froud's suggestion, and while promoting _The Dark Crystal_ in Japan, he began filling pages of a notebook with notes for a film to be called _The Labyrinth_ \u2014or, perhaps, _The Maze_ or even _The Labyrinth Twist_. Jim's first outline involved two of his favorite archetypes, a king and a jester, working their way through a maze filled with elaborate traps and exotic monsters. Even at this stage, Jim already had a strong sense for the look of the film, sketching out a giant Buddha statue trapping the heroes in a cage, rooms filled with snakes, and an island with a trapdoor in it. He also knew he wanted a carved door that somehow came to life, as well as an Escher-like sequence in which it was impossible to tell up from down\u2014both images that would end up in the final film. While there were also some darker sequences\u2014he envisioned a room full of jewels that would bleed if one was picked up\u2014Jim very deliberately wanted to include plenty of humor, an ingredient critics had found distinctly lacking in _The Dark Crystal_.\n\nAt the end of March, Jim flew to London to meet with Froud and Dennis Lee, the Canadian writer and poet who co-wrote songs for _Fraggle Rock_ , to see if they could tease a coherent story from Jim's notes. \"What is the philosophy of [the] film?\" Jim asked them. He was interested in exploring deeper themes of \"attitudes toward God, religion, and women,\" and wanted audiences constantly questioning their perceptions of size, shape, and reality. \"We played around with various story lines,\" said Froud, \"then I created some paintings just to give a general feel to the approach and style of the film.\" One of Froud's first paintings was a piece called _Toby and the Goblins_ , featuring a baby smiling happily amid a sea of grinning, leering, and skeptical monsters. Jim loved it\u2014it would \"define and inspire\" their work over the next three years\u2014and hung the original painting in his house on Downshire Hill. Lee, meanwhile, would begin trying to compress their conversations and notes into a viable first draft.\n\nAs Jim and Froud talked over their next big project, Oz had been hard at work on the script for the next Muppet film, overhauling the first screenplay submitted by _Muppet Caper_ writers Jay Tarses and Tom Patchett\u2014initially titled _The Muppets: The Legend Continues\u2014_ which Oz had dismissed as \"way too over jokey.\" \"I asked Jim if I could take a stab at it,\" said Oz, \"and I think Jay and Tom were both probably very unhappy that I did. But it just didn't have the _oomph_ of the characters and their relationships.\" Jim encouraged the tinkering; Oz, said Jim, was \"very precise in terms of his characters and what they're all about and thinks through that depth of why they are and where they came from... and all of that creates wonderfully real characters.\" But capturing that spark of the characters\u2014that _oomph_ , as Oz called it\u2014was the most important, and most difficult, part of any Muppet project. \"There's a sense of our characters caring for each other and having respect for each other,\" agreed Jim. \"A positive feeling. A positive view of life. That's a key to everything we do.... Sometimes we're too heavy in terms of ourselves and trying to carry an idea, and telling kids what life is about. I often have to tell myself that, too.\"\n\nWhile Oz put the final touches on the script, the New York workshop was constructing dozens of new Muppets for the movie, including a roller-skating Miss Piggy, a water-skiing Gonzo, and radio-controlled versions of nearly every major character. (As the workshop assembled multiple versions of Miss Piggy, Oz made certain he was always present when builders attached her eyes, just as Jim had insisted on doing twenty years earlier when overseeing Don Sahlin's construction of Rowlf.) The Muppet builders had continued to refine the technology now being used on _Fraggle Rock_ , making mechanisms increasingly smaller and allowing puppeteers to remotely control more and more functions of the puppet with the waldo mitt. When using the waldo, there was no need to find a way to keep the puppeteer crouched out of sight; instead, a remote-controlled Kermit could now be propped up on a bench out in the open, while Jim sat several yards away using the waldo to radio-control Kermit's mouth and head.\n\nThe third Muppet movie\u2014now titled _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ \u2014began filming in New York City on May 31, 1983. \"We did our first film in Los Angeles, and our second in London,\" noted Jim. \"I thought it would be nice to do the next one in our hometown.\" All shots of the Muppets in Manhattan, then, were done on location, with the Muppet performers wheeling around on their backs on rolling carts in Times Square or Central Park. Even uninterested New Yorkers, long accustomed to seeing film crews in their city, would stop to watch the filming\u2014their eyes locked on Kermit and Miss Piggy, rather than on Jim and Oz rolling around underneath\u2014and beg to take pictures or just touch the puppets. Jim didn't mind a bit. \"We got a very nice, happy feeling from people in the streets,\" he said.\n\nShooting on location also required the Muppet workshop to set up camp close by where they could quickly make any needed repairs, dividing duties between a puppet and costume shop to address puppet-related mishaps, and a mechanical shop to fix technical problems. Working in the mechanical shop that summer was nineteen-year-old Brian Henson, who had recently left his classes at the University of Colorado at Boulder, where he had been studying astrophysics and art. Brian had entered the university intending to make a career in film, with a focus on special effects, a craft he had learned to love from Don Sahlin and Faz Fazakas. \"I thought, 'Well, getting a degree in physics actually lends itself to that,' \" said Brian. But he found his time taken up more and more by his film work\u2014\"I just kept getting movies,\" he recalled\u2014that he eventually abandoned school altogether in favor of working in the Muppet workshop, reporting directly to Fazakas. He wouldn't stay there long; the following year, he would take on his first non-Muppet role when he was tapped by the Walt Disney Company to perform one of the lead puppet characters in _Return to Oz_.\n\nWhile Frank Oz was, for the first time, sitting alone in the director's chair, he knew \"it was under an umbrella of safety, because I had Jim and David Lazer's full support.... But it wasn't a pure handoff,\" said Oz. \"I made all the decisions, but it was still Jim and Dave protecting me, and coming to me to say, 'Frank, we can't afford this.' So it wasn't me doing everything on my own out in the world.\" The Muppet performers, however, braced themselves. Now that Jim was no longer regularly at Oz's side to temper Oz's notorious tendency for multiple takes, Oz would often nitpick a scene to the point where the performers could no longer tell the difference between takes.\n\nEven Jim could get irritated by Oz's admittedly \"dictatorial\" manner, growing angrier and angrier one evening as Oz kept the performers around for a seemingly endless round of retakes. \"I fucked up,\" said Oz. \"I was like, 'I'm the boss and I can keep everyone around,' and I made Jim stay on the set when he really didn't need to be there.\" Typically, Jim never got visibly angry, merely setting his mouth in a tight line beneath his beard. But \"Jim was steaming,\" remembered Oz. \"He was incredibly angry, and he got so powerfully silent. I don't even remember what he said to me, I just remember that blistering silence. I apologized, and Jim was very forgiving.\" Jim shrugged it all off. \"We sort of go up and down as all relationships do, but we have a great deal of respect for each other.\"\n\n_The Muppets Take Manhattan_ featured yet more innovative puppetry\u2014including a complicated sequence choreographed by Jim in which several rats take over a kitchen\u2014but some of the most notable moments came from Oz's script. Jim was particularly pleased with Oz's treatment of Kermit, who was given \"an opportunity to stretch,\" said Jim cheerily, \"to become a little bit more interesting instead of just... the more limited personality that he is most of the time.\" In fact, it didn't take much squinting at Kermit in _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ to see where Oz had poked a bit of gentle fun at elements of Jim's own personality. Not only did Kermit get to play several different kinds of characters, from a big-shot Hollywood producer to an advertising man\u2014two roles Jim had played in real life\u2014but there was even a moment when he finally got to lose his temper with the entire Muppet cast. \"Tell us what we should do!\" Fozzie implores of Kermit at one point. \"I don't know!\" Kermit explodes. \"How should I know? Why are you always asking me anyway? Can't you take care of _yourselves_?? I don't know what to do next!\"\n\nSteve Whitmire thought that was probably a moment of pure catharsis for Jim, who rarely, if ever, lost his patience with the Muppet performers. \"He'd say, 'I can't be expected to watch everything,' \" said Whitmire, \"which is very much the same moment when Kermit turns and really screams at everybody and says, 'Why do you expect me to have all the answers?' \" But that was about as irritated as Jim would ever get. \"You've got Jim... and all of us crazies around him at different levels of ability, different levels of knowledge, different capability as performers, and him trying to hold it all together,\" explained Whitmire, \"but by and large... I never saw him lose his temper.... He had a real knack for getting to the problem without scratching open the scab.\"\n\nThe moment in the film that created a buzz, however\u2014especially after word of it leaked to the press before the film's release\u2014was its final scene, in which Kermit and Miss Piggy are married in a lavish wedding ceremony that may or may not have been merely part of a Broadway musical. To keep the sequence a secret\u2014at least for a while\u2014the wedding had been filmed on a closed and sweltering hot soundstage at Empire Stages in Long Island City, where 175 puppeteers crammed themselves under a chapel set to perform the three hundred puppets attending the Kermit-Piggy nuptials. When word of the wedding scene\u2014and its ambiguous nature\u2014leaked out, reporters began frantically lobbing the same question at Jim and Oz over and over again: _Are they married or not?_ But neither Jim nor Oz would provide any clear answers, engaging instead in an elaborate bit of performance art to keep the press guessing. \"I'm just an actor,\" Jim would have Kermit entreat to reporters, \"and when two actors marry onstage, they're only acting!\" _Not so fast_ , Oz as Piggy would respond, and point out that the actor presiding over the on-screen ceremony was a real minister\u2014which was true\u2014and thus the two of them had been officially married. Reporters left more confused than ever, and Jim loved every moment of it. \"The argument will continue on, hopefully into... I don't know what.\" He grinned. \"We'll wait and see.\"\n\nStill, while the _Maybe it was real_ wedding scene got people talking, it was a dream sequence that would truly have audiences roaring with enthusiasm. Even Jim knew the sequence was something special, as the only production note he wrote in his private journal during _Manhattan_ 's entire fifteen-week shoot came with three weeks left in filming, when he jotted down \"SHOOTING MUPPET BABIES IN MOVIE.\"\n\nThe three-minute musical number, featuring baby versions of the entire Muppet cast\u2014including a sailor-suited Kermit, a diaper-clad Rowlf, and Miss Piggy in an enormous bow\u2014was one of the toughest sequences to film, requiring a combination of marionettes, radio-controlled figures, and specially designed baby Muppets with \"short, stubby arms and legs,\" which made them \"very difficult\" to operate. Keeping the performers out of sight often required careful positioning of the camera and a few well-placed props to hide the holes that were cut into the set, just wide enough for the Muppet performers to stick their arms through. \"It becomes quite a game, working out all of these things,\" said Jim. \"To me, one of the more enjoyable things is to try to figure out how to stage sequences like this.\" What had inspired the Muppet Babies, Oz wasn't certain\u2014\"Things spring up in your head, and you never know where they come from, you know?\"\u2014but the sequence would end up as one of the most memorable of all Muppet moments, and would soon take on a life of its own in a form that surprised even Jim.\n\nWhile he had only grudgingly ceded the directing duties on _The Muppet Movie_ to James Frawley five years earlier, Jim found that for _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ he was delighted not \"to worry about it.... I was able to relax and kid around, and in between takes, I could talk to people and make phone calls and enjoy a cup of tea.\" Filming in New York had its advantages, too. \"Being able to go home in between takes or at the end of the day... was a lot of fun.\" In the evenings, then, Jim would retreat to his apartment in the Sherry-Netherland, which was being gutted and put back together and redecorated by an expensive architectural firm. It would take more than a year before Jim would pronounce the work finished. With its pastel-tinted walls, expensive sculpture, custom-made etched glass, and hand-carved furniture, everything in Jim's apartment was richly detailed and interesting to look at\u2014an architectural embodiment of Jim's unique design aesthetic: art noveau, with a dash of whimsy. The dining room furniture, carved by artist Judy Kensley McKie, featured wide-eyed rabbits peeking playfully around the backs of the chairs, while in the bedroom, alongside sculptures and carved furniture, lounged a puppet built by Rufus Rose, the puppeteer who had performed Howdy Doody. Like the house on Downshire Hill, Jim's homes were always his oasis in the middle of a bustling city\u2014and the Sherry-Netherland apartment in particular would always be his glowing, cozy sanctuary in the sky.\n\nOther days, when he wasn't needed on-set at Empire Stages, Jim had begun working on a project that was small but close to his heart: a series of one-hour specials he was calling _Jim Henson Presents_ , showcasing puppeteers he admired from around the world. With his continued involvement in both the Puppeteers of America and UNIMA, Jim took puppetry even more seriously than many of the Muppet performers, and he intended for _Jim Henson Presents_ to be a kind of international puppetry primer, spotlighting both performers and their performances. In late July, Jim spent two days interviewing and filming Bruce Schwartz, who performed in a style influenced by the Japanese Bunraku, at the Dance Theater Workshop in New York. In the coming months and years, he would tape five more specials, including programs featuring Australian shadow puppeteer Richard Bradshaw, Dutch puppeteer Henk Boerwinkel\u2014who chatted earnestly with Jim about using puppets to create \"magical realism\"\u2014and eighty-three-year old Russian performer Sergei Obraztsov, who, perhaps more than any other puppeteer, had inspired Jim in the art and craft of puppetry.\n\nFor Jim, the more he learned about different styles of puppetry, the more excited he got\u2014and the more he wanted to incorporate those kinds of puppetry into his work. \"Puppetry is a very wide field,\" he explained. \"It encompasses a lot of different ways of operating hand puppets and marionettes and rod-control figures and people in black. There are many, many different techniques and... I feel that we can use them all. We try to use a lot of them. I believe in using any technique that will work.... I'm not a purist in terms of what puppetry is, or what it should or shouldn't be.\"\n\nFor someone who once considered puppetry merely a \"means to an end,\" Jim had become one of the leading authorities on\u2014and chief promoters of\u2014one of the world's most ancient arts. Recently, in fact, he had established the Jim Henson Foundation to promote and develop the art of puppetry in the United States\u2014to this day, still the only grant-making institution with such a mission. \"Jim started the Foundation... so that an artist would have a bit of money and breathing space to develop his own vision,\" said fellow UNIMA member Allelu Kurten, \"without having to give up or copy some one else's.\"\n\nIt was the copying, in fact, that bothered Jim the most. \"We see frequently puppets which have the overall 'Muppet look,' but which do not look like our individual Muppet characters,\" he wrote in _Puppetry Journal_. \"We feel that the people creating these puppets should create, as we did, their own concepts and not use ours.\" If puppetry was going to grow and expand as an art form, it needed to move beyond the Muppets\u2014which, given their popularity, was easier said than done. Jim was fine with performers using the look of the Muppets for inspiration\u2014just as he had been inspired by the design and working styles of Burr Tillstrom and Obraztsov\u2014but encouraged puppeteers to \"find their own unique style of puppetry.... It seems to me that each of us expressing our own originality is the essence of our art and professionalism.\" The foundation, then, was Jim's effort to encourage such originality\u2014and in the first year alone, the foundation awarded $25,000 in grants to performers and organizations, including $7,500 to a young puppeteer named Julie Taymor, who would later win a Tony Award for her groundbreaking puppetized version of the musical _The Lion King_ on Broadway.\n\nOn other days, Jim was in Toronto, meeting with his writers on _Fraggle Rock_ , or in London, where he had decided to begin building the various creatures and props that would be needed for _The Labyrinth_ \u2014or, at least, the building would start once the script was finished. In the meantime, there was more than enough work to be done hammering the old workshop at 1B Downshire Hill into shape. In early July, Jim moved Muppet builder Connie Peterson\u2014who had been part of Caroly Wilcox's ambitious Piggy Research and Development Department\u2014from the New York shop over to London, where she was put in charge of turning the trash-filled former postal sorting facility into a fully functional, state-of-the-art workshop.\n\n\"Getting started was really difficult\u2014it was hard to know where to grab hold of the project,\" said Peterson. \"The situation was made harder due to an architectural modification of our building... before our arrival. The main work space was filled with an impenetrable pile of stuff from the front of the building to the back... ranging from heavy machinery to feathers and sequins all jumbled together and coated with construction dust.\" The job also required some politicking with the neighbors and local council, since the workshop was the only industrial building in a residential area, and tended to vent slightly noxious fumes from time to time. Faz Fazakas, too, was dispatched to Downshire Hill to help establish the electromechanical side of the workshop, and spent weeks measuring floor thicknesses to determine the best locations for all the heavy equipment needed for metalwork. Under the watchful eye of Duncan Kenworthy\u2014who often joked that part of his job was to \"be Jim when Jim wasn't there\"\u2014Peterson and Fazakas would spend the rest of the year banging the London workshop into shape.\n\nJim spent his forty-seventh birthday at the wrap party for _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ , earnestly toasting Oz for completing his first film as director\u2014and now that Jim had opened that door for Oz, he was going to find it impossible to close. Two years later, Oz would be asked to direct the musical comedy _Little Shop of Horrors_ for Warner Brothers, on his way to a successful career as a film director, racking up a run of well-received, eclectic hits like _Dirty Rotten Scoundrels_ and _What About Bob?_ \"I was always chomping at the bit to go beyond the Muppets,\" said Oz, \"but Jim was amazing, because he never said, 'Hey, you can't leave me! I gave you all this stuff and you learned so much from me.' Instead, he said, 'Of course you've got to go do that.' He was always amazing that way.\"\n\nJim was earnestly watching another blooming career that autumn as well. In June, twenty-three-year-old Lisa graduated from Harvard with two distinctions: not only was she graduating _summa cum laude_ , but she had also served as the first female president of _Harvard Lampoon_. Now she was spending her summer preparing to attend film school, and after a series of strenuous interviews\u2014during which she discussed at length the interactive movie concept she and Jim had pitched several years earlier\u2014she had been accepted to a school in London. As she prepared to attend classes in the fall, however, she was offered a position at Warner Brothers by executive vice president (and Harvard alumnus) Lucy Fisher\u2014and off Lisa went to Warner Brothers, never to look back. Over the next ten years, she would serve as a production executive and later a vice president for the studio, overseeing blockbusters like _Lethal Weapon_ and _Batman_.\n\nJim devoted much of the fall to tinkering with various television projects, including a music education program and a children's television series he and Lisa had kicked around called _Starboppers_ , notable more for the technology he was proposing to use than for its underlying concept. In its early draft, _Starboppers_ \u2014a terrible name, but Jim could never come up with a title he liked better\u2014followed the adventures of several star-hopping aliens, with personalities based on the Freudian ideas of id, ego, and superego. More exciting, however, Jim was planning to film his characters against a green screen, then insert them into entirely computer-generated environments. He had even approached Digital Productions, a Los Angeles\u2013based computer animation company, about using their powerful Cray X-MP supercomputers to create the virtual backgrounds. Unfortunately, Jim could never get the idea to catch fire with a network, but he loved the technology\u2014he had been playing with computer animation since even before _Sesame Street_ \u2014and was determined to find a use for it.\n\nWhile he awaited Dennis Lee's first draft of _Labyrinth_ , as he was now calling it, Jim was excitedly looking for a screenwriter with whom he could collaborate on the script. Very briefly he had considered enlisting the help of Melissa Mathison, who had written _E.T_. for Steven Spielberg, but then abandoned the idea, deciding that if he was hoping to give _Labyrinth_ the more lighthearted, comedic edge that had been missing from _The Dark Crystal_ , he was better off collaborating with a comedian. An early fan of _Monty Python's Flying Circus_ \u2014he would regularly note on his desk calendar the dates and times when the show was airing on PBS\u2014Jim was particularly impressed with Terry Jones, one of the group's most versatile members, who seemed to share his penchant for fantasy and folklore. Jones had co-directed and co-written the Arthurian spoof _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ , had written a serious, literary analysis of the knight in Chaucer's _Canterbury Tales_ , and had recently published a children's book called _The Saga of Erik the Viking_ , which Jim greatly admired. In late fall, he approached Jones about collaborating on _Labyrinth_ \u2014\"a really marvelous idea,\" fellow Python member and former _Muppet Show_ guest John Cleese told Jim approvingly\u2014and was delighted when Jones said yes. \"Your contributions to _Labyrinth_ will surely make the script jump to life,\" Jim wrote Jones.\n\nAt the end of December, after nine long months of waiting, Jim finally received a treatment of _Labyrinth_ from Lee, who had transformed Jim's rough story outline and his own meticulous notes into a ninety-page novella. In early 1984, Jim handed Lee's novella and an enormous pile of Froud's drawings (\"I filled sketchbook upon sketchbook,\" admitted Froud) over to Jones to begin the task of writing the screenplay. While Lee's novella provided a guiding track of a plot, Jones didn't find it of much use, calling it a \"poetic novella [that I] didn't really get on with.\" Instead, he was much more inspired by Froud's drawings of monsters and goblins. \"I sat at my desk with Brian Froud's drawings stacked on one side of the desk and writing away sort of to see what would happen,\" said Jones. \"And every time I came to a new scene... I looked through Brian's drawings and found a character who was kind of speaking to me already and suddenly there was a scene.\" Jones would complete his draft by early spring, at which point Jim would pass it off to another writer for revisions\u2014and then another\u2014cooking up an increasingly murky screenwriter stew that would send the _Labyrinth_ screenplay veering through nearly twenty-five revisions and rewrites over the next two years.\n\nWith _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ due to premiere in July 1984, Jim and the merchandising department at Henson Associates spent their spring reviewing agreements on toys and other movie-related tie-ins, including deals with Frito-Lay, McDonald's, General Mills, and even Oral-B, which would be marketing a line of Muppet toothbrushes. While the Muppet films had always generated a good share of revenue for the company with related merchandise, _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ would prove particularly profitable because it had something going for it the other two Muppet films didn't: Muppet Babies. To Jim's surprise, lucrative offers came in from companies wanting to produce items targeted specifically toward families with infants and toddlers, including Procter & Gamble, which wanted the Muppet Babies to help sell Pampers diapers. Jim arched an eyebrow coyly. \"You're going to let kids shit on my name?\" he asked in mock annoyance\u2014then agreed to the deal.\n\nThe most successful Muppet Babies\u2013related product wasn't in stuffed animals or diapers, but in a market Jim had intentionally long avoided: Saturday morning cartoons. \"I'd always stayed away from Saturday morning, not really thinking it was an area in which I would feel comfortable working,\" said Jim. Jerry Juhl, too, was wary of putting animated Muppets on Saturday morning television, as he was concerned whether this was \"the right way to meet our characters for the first time.\" But Jim eventually shrugged off that particular concern. \"If the kids are already watching on Saturday morning, then _we_ should be there, too,\" he told Juhl, \"and maybe we could do something different.\" When he was approached by executives from Marvel Productions\u2014the animation wing of Marvel Comics\u2014and CBS television about developing an animated Muppet Babies series, Jim was willing to listen, bringing in Michael Frith and several others for an all-day \"concept meeting\" in March.\n\nIt was important to Jim that the _Muppet Babies_ \u2014like _Fraggle Rock_ \u2014\"have a nice reason for being.\" Where _Fraggle_ 's overarching theme was one of harmony and understanding, _Muppet Babies_ \"can be used to develop creativity,\" Jim told his writers. \"I think we can try to do something rather important with this show. There is almost no 'teaching' of creativity that I know of.... We can... show the Muppet Babies using their individual creativity in how each one can do the same thing differently. There is no right or wrong to it.\" In the same way five different people could look at an ink blot and see something different, Jim wanted _Muppet Babies_ to examine how different creative approaches could all solve the same problem\u2014by \"trying many different approaches, trying something no one has ever tried before, and not being satisfied with the way it's always been.\"\n\nWith that objective as its guiding principle, then, Jim agreed to create a joint production with Marvel that allowed Henson Associates to maintain quality control of the project while handing off the majority of the day-to-day work to Marvel's writers and animators. With both Jim and Marvel on board, CBS gave its enthusiastic backing, paying $250,000 per show for the initial thirteen episodes, and putting it at the center of its Saturday morning lineup. Frith was enlisted as a \"creative consultant,\" overseeing not only the look and design of the series, but reviewing scripts and story ideas with the same fervor he had devoted to _Fraggle Rock_ , and sending the same kind of detailed\u2014and entertaining\u2014notes back to Marvel's story writers that Jim had once sent to Jerry Juhl. The commitment paid off: when the first episodes went on the air in September 1984\u2014only six months after closing the deal _\u2014Muppet Babies_ was an immediate critical and commercial success, winning its time slot, pulling in huge ratings (though it usually finished second to another CBS juggernaut, _Pee-wee's Playhouse_ ), and winning the Emmy for Outstanding Animated Program for the first four years of its seven-year run. It would also spawn a cringe-inducing sub-industry of _Your Favorite_ _Characters as Children!_ cartoons like _Flintstone Kids_ and _A Pup Named Scooby-Doo_ , none of which had quite the spark of _Muppet Babies_ \u2014probably because they didn't aspire to Jim's lofty objectives.\n\n_Fraggle Rock_ and _Muppet Babies_ were colorful reflections of Jim's own personal principles\u2014and lately, Jim was becoming more personally and publicly involved in a number of causes. Though never overly political\u2014in fact, he rarely voted\u2014Jim's own leanings were firmly Democrat, and the issues with which he chose to involve himself\u2014and the Muppets\u2014were markedly left of center. He was particularly passionate about ecology and the environment, embracing conservation, wildlife preservation, and clean air and water. \"At some point in my life,\" said Jim, \"I decided, rightly or wrongly, that there are many situations in this life that I can't do much about: acts of terrorism, feelings of nationalistic prejudice, cold war, etc. So what I should do is concentrate on the situations my energy can affect.\" In 1983, then, he had agreed to produce several public service announcements for the National Wildlife Federation, filming Kermit and Fozzie in Central Park talking about clean water as they fished junk out of a pond, and in March 1984, Kermit delivered the keynote address at the National Wildlife Federation's annual meeting. Several years later, Jim would get similarly involved with the more politically inclined Better World Society, an organization founded by media giant Ted Turner to educate the media on global and social issues. In 1989, Kermit even served as \"spokesfrog\" for the organization, and Jim would direct several thoughtful public service announcements to promote conservation and arms reduction, scoring serious social and political points in a typically colorful and agreeable Muppet style.\n\nJim was most fired up when it came to the environment. Nature was both his muse and his solace. It \"recharged and re-inspired\" him. \"The beauty of nature has been one of the great inspirations in my life,\" wrote Jim. \"Growing up as an artist, I've always been in awe of the incredible beauty of every last bit of design in nature. The wonderful color schemes of nature that always work harmoniously are particularly dazzling to me.\" Whenever he could find a rare moment of quiet or solitude, he would fling himself down on the ground and stare up into the sky, dreamily losing himself in the clouds, the sun, the moon, or whatever happened to cross his line of sight, just as he had done as a boy in Leland. \"One of my happiest moments of inspiration came to me many years ago as I lay on the grass, looking up into the leaves and branches of a big old tree in California,\" wrote Jim. \"I remember feeling very much a part of everything and everyone.\"\n\nJim traveled widely in the weeks leading up to the release of _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ \u2014usually with one or more of the kids in tow\u2014interviewing puppeteers on camera for _Jim Henson Presents_ with John, taking Heather to London and New Orleans for a symposium, then heading to Connecticut in time to proudly attend Cheryl's graduation from Yale on a rainy Saturday in May. As always, Jim talked with each of his five children about his work, gauging their reactions to ideas and seeking their opinions on just about anything. And their honesty, while refreshing, could sometimes be frustrating\u2014especially when Jim had his mind made up about something, as he had, at the moment, about one of the key roles to be cast in _Labyrinth_.\n\nIn the early discussions on _Labyrinth_ , Jim had assumed that Jareth, _Labyrinth_ 's charismatic goblin king, would be performed as another elaborate puppet, similar to the Skeksis in _The Dark Crystal_. After further thought, however, he decided to make Jareth one of the roles filled by a live actor. Initially, he considered offering the role to either Simon MacCorkindale, who had just played one of the heroes in the fantasy film _The Sword and the Sorcerer_ , or to Kevin Kline, at that time one of New York's most respected and energetic stage performers. And then, said Jim, \"while we were considering various and sundry actors, we thought to make Jareth a music person, someone who could change the film's whole musical style.\"\n\nFor Jim, the choice for Jareth was obvious: Sting, the brooding front man from the New Wave group the Police. But both Brian and John Henson stridently protested that decision, arguing in favor of one of their idols, the innovative and enigmatic rock 'n' roller David Bowie\u2014who also happened to be a proven actor\u2014as the better choice. John, in fact, went immediately to the Sherry-Netherland to make the case to his dad directly, arguing that Sting was simply \"happening _now_ , whereas David Bowie is an artist, he's got longevity. You don't want to go with _Sting_ ,\" John told Jim adamantly, \"you want to go with _Bowie_.\"\n\nJim may have been intrigued with the idea, but he wouldn't commit. Instead he arranged to meet with Bowie in New York, mainly just to size the singer up, but brought along a handful of Froud's drawings, Terry Jones's recently completed first draft of the script, and a videotape of _The Dark Crystal_. \"Jim... outlined his basic concept for _Labyrinth_ and showed me some of Brian Froud's artwork,\" recalled Bowie. \"That impressed me for openers, but he also gave me a tape of _The Dark Crystal_ , which really excited me. I could see the potential of adding humans to his world of creatures.\" As the conversation continued, Jim was convinced Brian and John were right. When the meeting ended, Jim gave Bowie a copy of Jones's script to take with him. \"If you like the script,\" he said quietly to Bowie, \"would you consider being Jareth and singing and writing songs for him?\" Bowie was encouraging. \"I'd always wanted to be involved in the music writing aspect of a movie that would appeal to everyone,\" said the musician, \"so I was pretty well hooked from the beginning.\"\n\nOn July 13, 1984, _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ opened in the United States. For the most part, postproduction on the film had gone smoothly, but up until nearly the last minute, one contentious point remained: Oz's on-screen credit. Oz, who had directed the film, significantly rewritten the script, and performed several main characters, wanted _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ to be credited as \"A Frank Oz Film.\" \"I thought it was fair,\" said Oz, \"or, at least, my ego wanted that.\" But Jim kept putting Oz off, casually dismissing him with, \"We'll see.\" Finally, a month before the film's release, Oz received a gift from Jim and David Lazer: a beautiful mantelpiece clock with \"A Frank Oz Film\" inscribed on top. \"That's when I knew,\" said Oz. The final cut of the film would, indeed, be credited as \"A Frank Oz Film.\"\n\nThe response from critics to _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ was largely one of amused toleration. In the _Chicago Sun-Times_ , Roger Ebert noted the film's central plot was \"not original\" but was, nonetheless, \"a good one.\" Most agreed the film was funny, though somewhat lacking in the normal Muppet madness\u2014a criticism Oz thought was fair. \"It doesn't have enough lunacy,\" said Oz. \"I think the story is your basic old-fashioned story, and it was a well-crafted thing because of that. But it didn't have flights of fantasy like _The Muppet Movie_. I just wanted to make sure that the Muppets' characters came out, and their relationships, that's all.\" Only _The Washington Post_ seemed truly unimpressed, griping under the headline \"The Muppet Mope\" that Kermit and Miss Piggy's staged marriage was \"a terminally sappy idea to begin with\" and that the Muppet Babies were \"grotesquely cute.\" But Jim was pleased, and the film performed well enough, grossing $25 million on Jim's $8 million investment.\n\nMeanwhile, in London, Connie Peterson, Faz Fazakas, and Duncan Kenworthy had finally knocked the workshop at 1B Downshire Hill into shape\u2014but with _The Dark Crystal_ long finished and Jim still months, if not years, away from beginning work on _Labyrinth_ , the lights at Downshire Hill were off, Faz's heavy machines silent. Jim had been reluctant to dismiss the eclectic staff of sculptors, jewelers, armorers, silversmiths, and puppet makers who had given _The Dark Crystal_ its distinctive look and feel\u2014nor did he want to merge them into the New York workshop alongside the Muppet builders who derisively referred to the London craftsmen as the staff on \"that brown film.\" Instead, Jim wanted to keep them together, preferably in the same place, until he was ready for them to start the build for _Labyrinth_. But with nothing to do, there was no way to hold the crew together, and most of the staff had moved on\u2014some to Elstree to work on Disney's _Return to Oz_ , others to California, where they had built and performed Jabba the Hutt for George Lucas.\n\nEarlier in the spring, however\u2014at about the time Jim and Marvel were discussing the Muppet Babies in New York\u2014Duncan Kenworthy had read a script by TV writer Dennis Potter called _Dreamchild_ , a faux-biographical drama about the elderly Alice Liddell, who, as a child, had inspired Lewis Carroll's _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. As the aged Liddell recalls her friendship with Carroll through flashbacks, she encounters grotesque versions of some of Wonderland's inhabitants, including a terrifying Gryphon and a truly insane-looking Mad Hatter\u2014and Kenworthy thought the London workshop would be the perfect place to build such fantastic puppets. \"I was always keen to try and get the company working in drama,\" said Kenworthy, \"and _Dreamchild_ really was the perfect combination of realism and fantasy.\" Jim, too, loved Potter's story, and with Universal Studios backing the film and footing the bill, Jim gave the okay to reassemble the London team and begin production on the creatures needed for _Dreamchild_ \u2014\"the first time my father had considered doing puppets for other people,\" said Brian Henson.\n\nUnder the direction of sculptor and designer Lyle Conway, who had sculpted the heads for the Skeksis and Mystics for _The Dark Crystal_ , the crew at Downshire Hill worked quickly\u2014and on a shoestring budget\u2014to produce six large puppets in only fourteen weeks. To keep costs down, there was little radio control involved in the figures; most were operated much as Yoda had been, with a mass of cables snaking out of the puppets' necks, requiring large teams of puppeteers to operate the controls manually. When shooting began on _Dreamchild_ on July 16\u2014only three days after the premiere of _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ \u2014eleven puppeteers were needed to operate the complex facial movements of the Mad Hatter. \"The Mad Hatter's face was all over the place, and he looked absolutely insane,\" said Kenworthy gleefully. \"It was great.\"\n\nJim had left most of the work to Conway and his team, but he was delighted with the results. Not only had the team learned to work quickly and efficiently, stretching the budget as far as they could, but with every project the puppets were getting more complex, the mechanics smaller and more precise, and the resulting movements more subtle and realistic. In fact, with their seamless splicing of traditional puppetry with high-tech gadgetry, it probably wasn't even accurate to refer to the figures as _puppets_ anymore. \"The characters are just not Muppets at all,\" said Jim. \"We hesitate to call them puppets even.... Instead, we're trying to go toward a sense of realism\u2014toward a reality of creatures that are actually alive and we're mixing up puppetry and all kinds of other techniques.... You're trying to create something that people will actually believe.\"\n\nPartly to assuage the British unions, which insisted that craftsmen be engaged in some sort of identifiable trade, the workshop had begun referring to their complex puppets as _animatronics\u2014_ a term lifted from Walt Disney, who called the animated figures that moved and sang in attractions like Pirates of the Caribbean _Audio-Animatronics_. The distinction was small, but critical: while a Disney Audio-Animatronic moved in a preprogrammed manner to a prerecorded soundtrack (hence the need for the prefix _Audio_ ), with animatronics, it was the puppeteer, and not a computer program, who controlled every aspect of the figure. No matter how complicated it might be, the puppet was still just an extension of the live performer, with the gadgetry serving to enhance the performance rather than defining it. \"I feel I've always done well at using the technical aspects of the medium to expand what we can do,\" said Jim. \"I find that combination of art and technology pretty exciting.\"\n\nBut as much as Jim liked the word _animatronics_ (and there would be some in-fighting in the London workshop over who had first applied the term to their craft) it was just a bit too technical, too process-oriented. Nonetheless, \"people say, 'you really should have a term for that,' \" Jim said, \"but at the moment we're saying _creatures_.\" This name would stick, and from here on the London workshop would be known as the Creature Shop. That gave the London shop a personality and mission very different from its New York counterpart\u2014which, Jim hoped, would help clarify whose project was whose and reduce some of the tensions between the two workshops. New York was \"more oriented to the Muppets,\" explained Jim, while the Creature Shop was \"more high tech... more into realistic detail, and so forth.\"\n\nRegardless of whether it was _creatures_ in London or _Muppets_ in New York that were being built and performed, there was one term that Jim expressly would _not_ allow to be used to describe his performers\u2014and that was the word _Muppeteer_. While the media and others used the term freely to describe Jim's occupation, Jim thought it was just a bit too gimmicky. In 1984, when the Apple computer company sent Jim a mock-up of a page from its annual report proudly hailing Jim as an Apple user and listing his occupation as \"Muppeteer,\" Jim scratched darkly through the term and wrote \"Muppet performer\" beneath it. He was a _performer_ or a _puppeteer_. Not a _Muppeteer_.\n\nWith a bit of rare downtime in the summer of 1984, Jim took an extended vacation\u2014which for him meant four days\u2014chartering a yacht with Cheryl, Heather, and John, and cruising the waters off the coast of Antigua. But even as Jim basked in the Caribbean sun, he had Al Gottesman and other executives hard at work back in New York trying to close one of the most important deals of his career.\n\nEver since Robert Holmes \u00e0 Court's acquisition of ACC in early 1982, Jim had been wary of the mogul and the way he did business, and was determined to shake himself free of ACC's grasp. Jim had managed to buy _The Dark Crystal_ out from under Holmes \u00e0 Court in late 1982, but that still left ACC owning the first two Muppet movies ( _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ had been financed independently, and thus remained free of ACC's grip), several Muppet-related television specials, and, most gallingly, all 120 episodes of _The Muppet Show_. While Holmes \u00e0 Court had washed his hands of _The Dark Crystal_ \u2014and indeed, was likely glad to be rid of it\u2014the Muppet properties were of a different caliber altogether. Not only was _The Muppet Show_ already in syndication, earning a steady flow of revenue, but\u2014even more irksome to Jim\u2014ACC received 10 percent of the net income generated by Muppet-related merchandising.\n\nBeing handcuffed to Holmes \u00e0 Court was beyond frustrating. For the better part of the year, then, Jim and Holmes \u00e0 Court had tangled on the phone\u2014and, from time to time, in person\u2014with Jim trying to convince Holmes \u00e0 Court to release _The Muppet Show_ from his clutches, and Holmes \u00e0 Court either complacently demanding an exorbitant price for the show or ignoring Jim's pleas altogether. \"The terms that I mentioned were not designed to commence negotiation,\" Holmes \u00e0 Court had written Jim curtly in March, cutting off any further discussion\u2014a patronizing response that likely set Jim's teeth on edge. While Duncan Kenworthy ran the numbers to determine a fair price for buying back just _The Muppet Show_ 's distribution rights\u2014about $1.5 million, Kenworthy thought\u2014Jim was upping the ante, putting together an offer that would not only rescue _all_ of the Muppet properties in ACC's claws, but also close down ACC's share in merchandising.\n\n_Never sell anything I own_ , Jim had insisted to Bernie Brillstein two decades earlier, and he intended to take his own advice. On August 17, 1984, after weeks of heavy negotiation, Jim acquired all of his Muppet properties from Holmes \u00e0 Court for $6.5 million, agreeing to pay ACC $5 million up front, then $750,000 for the next two years. It wasn't an extraordinarily large amount\u2014and according to Kenworthy, there was plenty of money on hand from merchandising\u2014but just as he had done with _The Dark Crystal_ , Jim had seen the value in securing his own creative and artistic freedom\u2014and, as it turns out, his future. \"We would have no company today if he hadn't done that,\" said Lisa Henson twenty years later, \"and _he_ wouldn't have had that much of a company, either. How many people take that gamble? [How many] invest in their own interests?\" For Holmes \u00e0 Court, the Muppets had been little more than a stock option; for Jim they were the foundation on which he could continue to build a company and a legacy. \"He knew it had long-term value,\" said Lisa admiringly. Al Gottesman, who had helped close the deal, called the effort \"simply heroic.\"\n\nRelieved, and feeling slightly victorious, Jim headed for Europe with Cheryl, first to Dresden to attend the UNIMA Puppet Festival, then on to Edinburgh, where he spent several days rewriting the script for _Labyrinth_. Only seven months in, the screenplay already had multiple fingerprints on it\u2014Jim had given Jones's first draft to _Fraggle Rock_ writer Laura Phillips\u2014and now Jim was tinkering with the script as well. At its core, the plot of _Labyrinth_ was simple: Sarah, the fourteen-year-old heroine of the story, wishes her baby brother would be whisked away by goblins\u2014and when the Goblin King makes her wish come true, Sarah has thirteen hours to rescue her brother from the Goblin's labyrinth. But Jones and Phillips had approached that basic plot differently.\n\nJones had written an episodic, _Alice in Wonderland\u2013_ type story that was funny and contained some of the story elements Jim had already envisioned\u2014the Escher room, the talking door knockers, comic relief sidekicks\u2014but only lightly touched on the personality and motivations of Sarah, the heroine of the story. \"[It was] about the world,\" said Jones, \"and about people who are more interested in manipulating the world than actually baring themselves at all.\" Laura Phillips, on the other hand, excelled at writing relationship-oriented stories, and had written a character-centered treatment that more fully fleshed out Sarah, but downplayed the humor and relied less on the kind of strong visual sequences Jim preferred. But Jim liked parts of both scripts, and was hoping he could split the difference and compress the strengths of both Jones's and Phillips's scripts into a single screenplay. Everyone agreed to keep working.\n\nWith both scripts in a constant state of flux\u2014and neither quite getting a firm grip on the heroine\u2014it was clear that casting the role of teenage Sarah was going to be critical. Jones, in fact, had argued that a good actress was vital, as she could express through her performance much of what he had intentionally left unwritten on the page. \"We've got a live actress playing the part,\" he told Jim, \"and she can convey a lot of this in her manner and by the way she talks and walks.\" Finding the right young actress, however, would take nearly ten months. Jim had started monthly auditions in London beginning in April 1984, and by July his first choice was the \"dark and cynical\" seventeen-year-old British actress Helena Bonham Carter. As more actresses read for the part, however\u2014Sarah Jessica Parker, Laura Dern, Mia Sara, Mary Stuart Masterson\u2014Jim was convinced that the role should go to an American. By late December 1984, he had narrowed the list down to five actresses he considered his leading candidates\u2014including Ally Sheedy and Jane Krakowski\u2014but after looking at their screen tests, decided to open auditions again.\n\nOn January 29, 1985, fifteen-year-old New Yorker Jennifer Connelly\u2014a former child model who had appeared in films by Italian directors Sergio Leone and Dario Argento\u2014auditioned for Jim at One Seventeen, and was pronounced \"just right for the role\" almost the moment she walked in. Jim signed her for the part within a week, and immediately moved her and her mother to London, where she would stay for the duration of her work on _Labyrinth_. David Bowie, too, who had continued to follow the various iterations of the script, formally signed his deal two weeks later. In the meantime, the Creature Shop was now working full-time on the assortment of monsters and other creatures needed for the movie, and had filmed several of the main characters together to establish the relative sizes for the gigantic, full-body puppet Ludo, the dwarf Hoggle, and the foxlike, dog-riding knight Sir Didymus.\n\nWith production ramping up quickly\u2014though the script still remained a problem\u2014Jim excitedly presided over a massive _Labyrinth-_ inspired masked ball in mid-February. Starting with the Elizabethan costume party he had hosted at Downshire Hill in 1979\u2014the precursor for the masked balls he would begin hosting regularly in 1983\u2014Jim's costume parties had gotten increasingly larger and louder over the last three years, and now sprawled through the gigantic, four-story-high Starlight Room on the fiftieth floor of the Waldorf-Astoria hotel. Jim loved dressing in costume, strolling the ballroom in a feathered mask, dark cape, and goblin armor borrowed from the Creature Shop, shaking hands with Andy Warhol and other celebrity guests. \"Puppets are a lot like masks,\" Jim once noted. \"Children\u2014and adults\u2014can perform without inhibitions and without being seen. That sort of helps to foster true expression.\" The Muppet staff, already expressive and uninhibited enough, took great joy in putting together elaborate costumes, hoping to disguise themselves to the point where Jim couldn't figure out who they were.\n\nWith a glass of white wine in his hand, Jim moved among his staff proudly, asking about children and grandchildren, and wrapping his long arms around them as they posed for pictures. \"I have a good group of people that work with me,\" Jim said. \"I don't do everything myself.\" The masked balls were a conscious effort to thank the group for their work. While Jim had gotten better about openly appreciating the efforts of the staff, he was still less effusive in his praise of his employees than David Lazer\u2014who was constantly encouraging Jim to \"hand out the 'attaboys' \"\u2014would have liked. In Jim's mind, the fact he had chosen to hire a particular person was already proof of how much he valued them, and their work was the validation of that decision. \"He didn't wonder if his own work was good, so he didn't have to be extracting and pulling approval and praise out of people,\" said Lisa, \"but that meant when other people needed his praise and tried to pull it out of him, he didn't always respond well to that.\" But he was trying\u2014and the masked balls, he hoped, were one way of showing how much he appreciated and valued them.\n\nThat didn't mean staff were making it any easier for him. While Jim had hoped that the formal creation of the Creature Shop would put an end to the turf wars that seemed to continually erupt between the New York and London workshops, there was still muted grumbling among the New York staff that Jim preferred the Creature Shop to the Muppet workshop\u2014especially as his time became more and more wrapped up in projects requiring the Creature Shop's work. And it didn't help when _Dreamchild_ , on its release in 1985, provided a prominent on-screen credit for JIM HENSON'S CREATURE SHOP.\n\nSo powerful was the pull of Jim's personality that even those Jim worked with outside the company craved his time and approval\u2014and sulked when Jim moved on to projects that no longer required their services. At one point, when Jim decided to start working with a new music producer for a new series of _Sesame Street_ records, his former producer wrote Jim a long, agonizing letter of protest. Jim was genuinely baffled that his decision had been taken so personally. \"If you like one person, does that mean that you dislike someone else?\" Jim asked. \"I work with a great many people all the time, and as one goes through life, you work with one person for a while and then you work with someone else. This feels healthy and correct to me. As we do this, we try to treat people fairly and with respect for what they've done.\" Jerry Juhl, though, thought he understood the former producer's plight. \"When you first encounter the kind of energy that Jim brought, and the kind of desire he had for you to give things to a project, you became so caught up in it that you were really at a loss when he moved on.\"\n\nIn late February, only a month and a half away from the April 15 date when he planned to begin filming _Labyrinth_ , Jim brought in screenwriter and comedian Elaine May, who had done some touch-up work on the screenplay for _Tootsie_ , to make a pass at the _Labyrinth_ screenplay as well. Jim left her with Jones's and Phillips's scripts, along with his own treatment and a pile of notes from _Labyrinth_ 's executive producer, George Lucas, in the hopes that somewhere in the mess May would be able to find and define the characters of Sarah and Jareth.\n\nAs May went to work, Jim headed for Toronto for a \"Future of Fraggles\" meeting with the creative team of _Fraggle Rock_ , now in its third season and still a solid hit for HBO. As he had with _The Muppet Show_ , Jim was determined not to let his TV series wear out its welcome\u2014and _Fraggle_ 's creative team was already putting the same kind of thought into ending the show as they had put into its development, brainstorming ways to bring the series to a close while also leaving room for a possible _Fraggle Rock_ spinoff. While writers Jerry Juhl and Jocelyn Stevenson wanted a final episode that would \"dramatize the fact that the hole in Doc's workshop is not the only entrance to the magic\"\u2014that the Fraggle world is actually accessible _anywhere_ \u2014Jim wasn't so certain he wanted a solid sense of closure for the series. From a purely practical standpoint, that made the series less tenable in syndication, as a final episode implied a particular order in which shows had to be broadcast\u2014an unattractive option for local syndicates, which wanted to show the episodes in any order they chose.\n\nHe was more excited, however, by the idea of doing a _Fraggle Rock_ spinoff series. In a memo to the creative staff, Jim described a show built around Uncle Matt and two new Fraggle characters, who \"travel around the world in a nutty hot air balloon,\" wrote Jim enthusiastically, \"landing in new places each week... possibly on a quest to gather music.\" Jim had even planned out the technical tricks he wanted to put to work each week. \"We could radio-control Uncle Matt and the female Fraggle on a bicycle with a sidecar... and the Doozers might follow along in their radio-controlled vehicles.\" Jim left the meeting with no real decisions made, only writing down that \"everyone wants 120 [episodes]\"\u2014which would leave the show on for another two years.\n\nJim headed for London at the end of March to begin rehearsals for _Labyrinth_ out at Elstree movie studios. Bowie wasn't available yet, and wouldn't be until June, but the puppeteers welcomed the rehearsal time. \"It takes a lot of rehearsing... and getting to know each other's timing,\" explained Jim. \"Even if you have the characters together, the puppeteers start working with them and they find out problems.... So there's a great deal of sort of last minute adjusting, figuring out what it's all going to be before you start to shoot.\"\n\nWhile wireless radio control had replaced the clunky and heavy cable-controlled mechanisms\u2014thanks largely to the efforts of the Creature Shop's new gadget guru, Tad Krzanowski, who replaced the retiring Faz Fazakas\u2014many of the characters still required a small fleet of puppeteers to operate, with different performers controlling eyes, chins, cheeks, and eyebrows. Brian Henson, who was performing the dwarf Hoggle, led a team of five puppeteers\u2014including little person Shari Weiser, who performed the full-body Hoggle costume\u2014and spent months trying to get the smallest movements just right. \"Everyone has to work closely and smoothly with one another when Hoggle is being operated,\" said Brian. \"We all have to think the same way, even though we're doing very different jobs.\"\n\nJim was still tinkering with the script right up until nearly the last minute, huddling with Elaine May at Downshire Hill only five days before shooting was to begin. Jim was delighted with May's contributions\u2014he felt she had done a good job \"humanizing\" the characters\u2014and would leave her changes intact. That made the final screenplay an amalgam of contributions from May, Laura Phillips, Jim, Dennis Lee, Terry Jones, and even executive producer George Lucas\u2014talented chefs all, but a far too crowded kitchen. While the final film would credit the script to Terry Jones, based on a story by Jim and Dennis Lee, Jones \"didn't feel that it was very much mine. I always felt it fell between two stories, Jim wanted it to be one thing and I wanted it to be about something else.\"\n\nThere was another writer, however, who would also feel he deserved a writing credit\u2014and without it, was determined to stop the film altogether. When he learned the plot of _Labyrinth_ in late 1985, writer Maurice Sendak\u2014a friend of the Hensons for over a decade\u2014had his attorneys fire a warning shot across Jim's bow, cautioning him that the plot of _Labyrinth_ sounded a bit too much like his 1981 book _Outside Over There_ , in which a young girl named Ida must rescue her younger sister after she is kidnapped by goblins. Further, Sendak had learned that Jim was calling some of his characters \"wild things,\" which Sendak thought was a bit too close to _Where_ _the Wild Things Are_. Sendak's lawyers advised Jim to cease production on the film, and warned that a longer list of grievances would follow.\n\nCheryl remembered her father being \"stunned\" by Sendak's accusation. While Jim was likely familiar with the book\u2014Cheryl owned a copy, and Jim had seen Sendak's original drawings for the book during a visit to the author's Connecticut home\u2014the idea of poaching Sendak's work was a ridiculous affront to Jim's own work ethic; anyone who knew Jim understood that he simply wasn't wired that way. \"Jim was hurt,\" said Lazer. \"If things had been reversed, he would say, 'Oh, go use it.'... But he didn't consciously steal anything.\" However, there may have been other issues surrounding Sendak's charges than the prickly writer let on; while Sendak was friendly with Jim, he was closer with Jane\u2014and there were some who thought Sendak's charges might have been an expression of righteous indignation over Jim's decision to separate from Jane. Whatever the cause, Jim responded by renaming his _wild things_ as _Fireys_ in the final film, and would give Sendak a special acknowledgment in the credits. Sendak withdrew his objection, though he would grumble about it for years.\n\nFilming for _Labyrinth_ finally began on April 15, 1985\u2014a massive, $25 million project that sprawled across Elstree's nine soundstages. \"It's a big one,\" Jim told the American Film Institute. \"I think it would be very difficult to do any of those major fantasy, in-studio productions for under 20 million.\" Executive producer George Lucas was also on hand the first day, and surprised the entire crew by arranging for Darth Vader to stroll onto the set and present Jim with a good luck card.\n\nFor the first time, Jim would not be performing a major character in one of his films, allowing him to devote his full attention to directing. Early on, he found that Jennifer Connelly needed some coaxing to interact naturally with puppets. \"In the beginning it was hard because... it's just strange thinking about the fact that you really are talking to a puppet,\" said Connelly. Eventually, the illusion became real to her\u2014just as Jim knew it would. \"The puppeteers make them so lifelike,\" said Connelly, \"and you can really learn to relate to each one of them.\" Jim was delighted with her attitude both on and off camera; he got along with her well, in no small part because she didn't crave the constant reassurance so many around Jim seemed to need. \"I found I could talk very straight to her,\" Jim said. \"I didn't have to tiptoe around her feelings or anything like that.\"\n\nBowie, who reported to the set in early June, also had to learn how to act with _Labyrinth_ 's elaborate puppets. He found himself especially troubled by scenes with Hoggle, whose mouth opened and closed in front of him, but whose voice came from Brian Henson, sitting just offstage, speaking into a microphone and performing Hoggle's mouth remotely with a waldo. \"Once I'd overcome the disorientation,\" laughed Bowie, \"we all got along great!\" \"[Bowie] has been wonderful to work with,\" Jim wrote privately, \"and has added a truly magical spark as Jareth.\" Jim also respected Bowie's songwriting, giving Bowie\u2014as he had Paul Williams\u2014\"a completely free hand\" with the songs.\n\nWhile Bowie winkingly described Jareth as \"a spoiled child, vain and temperamental, kind of like a rock 'n' roll star,\" Jim found Bowie himself to be anything but spoiled or temperamental. \"[He's] a very normal well-grounded straightforward person,\" said Jim. John Henson, who visited the set with a friend, was starstruck by Bowie, who greeted the twenty-year-old while still dressed as Jareth. When Bowie, finally out of makeup, sought John out at the end of the day, prowling the Elstree lobby in a bright red jacket, John was so awed by the sight of the musician that he and his friend ducked out of the studio without being seen. \"Supposedly, David Bowie went around looking for us for about an hour after,\" said John sheepishly. \"But we were gone!\"\n\nFor his part, Bowie was impressed by Jim, who seemed constantly in motion, yet oddly unaffected by his own crazy schedule. \"Jim is undoubtedly the most unflappable guy I've ever encountered in any profession,\" said Bowie admiringly. \"I just can't believe his capacity for work. For instance, he would finish shooting for the week on _Labyrinth_ in London, catch an airplane to New York, work... over the weekend, then catch a plane back to London Sunday night and be at the studios early on Monday morning.... He's desperately work-conscious but he seems to love it all. His calm spirit made the whole film a pleasure to work on, not just for me, but for the entire cast and crew.\"\n\nLive actors aside, Jim was, as always, interested in doing new or unexpected things with puppetry. While the animatronic creatures were impressive in themselves, Jim had two more memorable sequences in mind, one that would involve the largest and heaviest mechanical puppet he'd ever created, and another that relied on nothing more complicated than the gloved hands of his performers.\n\n\"Late in the story, what we wanted was for our hero to come up against some huge obstacle,\" Jim explained. The result was a creature Jim called Humongous, a fifteen-foot-tall, armored warrior that stepped from the ornate carvings on a door. _Labyrinth_ 's special effects team\u2014led by George Gibbs, who had done mechanical effects for George Lucas\u2014constructed an enormous puppet with a mechanical skeleton that used hydraulics to slowly walk and raise its arms. The gigantic figure could be operated remotely by a single performer wearing a robotic sleeve that controlled the skeleton's arms, and using levers and switches to pivot and bow the figure at the waist. Despite its lumbering appearance, \"this was the most complicated thing we'd ever built,\" Jim enthused, requiring computers to translate the motions of the operator for the hydraulics raising and lowering the mechanical arms of the skeleton. \"To just stand there and have this large thing walk towards you is one of the most awesome sights in the world,\" said Jim.\n\nEqually as impressive, though far simpler, was a sequence Terry Jones had written in which Sarah falls down a Shaft of Hands\u2014a narrow chute lined with gnarled hands that grab at her as she falls past. \"I suddenly had this idea of _oooh!_ all these hands... and they all grab her... [and it] sounds pretty spooky,\" said Jones. \"And then I thought it would be very nice if the hands started talking to her.\" Jones thought this might involve performing the hands in a Se\u00f1or Wences\u2013like manner, with each hand making a mouth by curving the thumb against the closed fingers. But Jim had something better, and creepier, in mind.\n\nAs Jim saw it, multiple puppeteers could use their hands to form faces, with one performer making eyes, another making a fist for a nose, while another formed a mouth with one or both hands. Standing on-set, Jim ran a group of performers through possible hand motions, relying largely on Brian Henson and Kevin Clash, a dynamic young puppeteer borrowed from _Sesame Street_ , to help make the faces and choreograph the performance. The result was both spooky and funny. \"It's certainly one of the most bizarre and unusual sequences I've ever used in a movie,\" said Jim. Jones, too, was delighted. \"When you've had an idea which you thought was a pretty good idea, and then you see it done and it is so much better than you ever imagined.... It was one of those magic moments, I think, when I actually saw it.\"\n\nBrian Henson, who shared his father's love of technology and ambitious puppetry, loved every moment of it, whether he was making mouths of his hands in the Shaft of Hands, puppeteering one of the countless background goblins at Jareth's castle (\"real crazy!\" laughed Brian), or leading his team through a performance on Hoggle. But it was also hard work, the hours were long, and Brian was coming to more fully appreciate the work ethic that made his father... well, Jim Henson.\n\nFor one thing, it was never about money. After several long and grueling days of filming, Brian\u2014who was now working as a paid performer\u2014raised the issue of overtime. \"I never leave the studio before around 10:30 P.M.,\" Brian pointed out to his father, \"[and] I never put in for overtime.\" Jim considered for a moment, then smiled wryly. \"When you're in your twenties, don't ever put in for overtime and don't ever ask for a raise,\" he told Brian warmly. \"Just do the best work you can do. Impress the heck out of people.\" Brian understood immediately. \"He wanted to see me develop my experience and become really excellent and not get greedy,\" said Brian. \"That way, I'd know that I'd earned whatever I had.\"\n\nJim wrapped shooting on _Labyrinth_ on September 6, marking the moment with a small party at Downshire Hill (the final wrap party, which he had hosted on-set a week earlier, had drawn over a thousand attendees). Across the street at 1B, Connie Peterson was preparing to close down the Creature Shop\u2014but Jim was determined not to let the workshop lie fallow between projects again. \"Rather than laying everyone off, Jim wanted to start a permanent workshop, where research and development could be continued,\" said Duncan Kenworthy. At Jim's direction, Kenworthy rounded up _Labyrinth_ 's core group of designers, builders, and craftsmen\u2014a close-knit group of about ten\u2014and installed them as the Creature Shop's first permanent staff. This wasn't Jim being sentimental, but practical. \"By keeping a group of people together, we are staying closer to what we've always done with the Muppets, where we had our own builders,\" Jim explained. \"That way, you can make it better every time and build on your past work.\"\n\nAs for finding the right person to run the Creature Shop, Jim's decision-making process epitomized his management style. \"He had tried to approach the problem from an engineering and creative perspective, although without much success,\" remembered Brian Henson. Then Kenworthy suggested John Stephenson, who had been a designer for _Labyrinth_ \u2014but Stephenson was also a good friend of Kenworthy's, and Kenworthy worried \"it would have almost been nepotism to have offered him the job.\" Jim stroked his beard thoughtfully. \"We should all be so lucky as we go through life working only with friends,\" he said. Stephenson was hired immediately.\n\nWhen it came to working with friends, Jim, too, considered himself lucky. In early October, he rented a yacht to spend a week cruising the waters just off the south of France with a group of colleagues, including Bernie Brillstein, who was loudly and joyously celebrating twenty-five years of working with Jim. \"He was the first one to take me on a yacht,\" said Brillstein. \"That was Jim! He was something.\" A yacht trip, in fact, was typical of the kind of vacation Jim loved. \"He was a modest guy in some ways,\" said Heather Henson. \"In other ways, he was _completely_ over the top.\"\n\n\"He was very conservative, but there was this whole other side of him,\" agreed Brillstein. \"He just loved to laugh. He got the joke. He always got the joke.\" Lately, in fact, Jim had become a much more engaged practical joker, actively taking up the mantle since the death of Don Sahlin, and showing a knack for somewhat prurient pranks. \"My dad was _naughty_ ,\" laughed Brian Henson. \"He had a wicked sense of humor and he loved to do naughty things... and he certainly had that _glint_ in his eyes.\"\n\nA favorite target was Duncan Kenworthy, whose very proper British chain Jim delighted in yanking. One Saturday morning, Jim asked Kenworthy to join him for a meeting with a Swedish filmmaker who hoped to hire the Creature Shop to construct realistic-looking animals for a foreign film called _Animal Farm_ \u2014though as the pitch unfolded, and the director described a story of a nubile young girl who spent her summer tending to animals on a farm in the country, it was clear the filmmaker was _not_ planning to film the George Orwell novel. Kenworthy was ready to dismiss the project outright, but noticed Jim listening with real interest. \"Why not just use real animals?\" Jim asked earnestly. The foreign filmmaker shrugged. \"The sex scenes will be more difficult to do with real animals,\" he explained. A horrified Kenworthy nearly erupted in outrage at the idea of building creatures for an X-rated film, but Jim merely kept nodding and hmmming. \"It sounds like an art film,\" said Jim to Kenworthy, \"and I think it could be interesting. Besides, don't we need the money for the Creature Shop?\" Kenworthy blanched. \"It all sounds tawdry to me,\" he finally spluttered\u2014and Jim exploded into his high-pitched giggle, unable to contain himself any longer. Laughter erupted from just outside the room, where Muppet performers had been hidden just out of sight, witness to\u2014and videotaping\u2014the entire elaborate prank.\n\nJim continued editing _Labyrinth_ into the winter\u2014often working alongside an editor with the serendipitous name of John Grover\u2014and regularly reviewed rough cuts of the film with George Lucas. In early January 1986, Jim put Digital Productions\u2014the computer animation firm with whom he had discussed the _Starboppers_ project\u2014to work on the film's opening credits, a two-and-a-half-minute sequence featuring a computer-generated white owl soaring over a labyrinth and across the credits. While computer-generated images (CGI) had been used in films before\u2014most notably in 1984's _The Last Starfighter_ , which featured CGI spaceships _(_ also produced by Digital Productions) _\u2014Labyrinth_ 's opening sequence marked the first time a realistic, real-world animal had been created and animated in the computer. The result, said Jim later, \"was really quite beautiful.\"\n\nAs he put the finishing touches on _Labyrinth_ , Jim checked himself into the Colombe d'Or hotel in France to spend a weekend banging out a proposal for IBM Europe, whose CEO had dangled a tantalizing offer for Jim to come up with a television project he might do if \"money were no object.\" Jim's response, for a show called _Muppet Voyager_ , was typically high-minded. \"Television is one of the greatest connectors around,\" he wrote. \"The world is an immense network of human relationships, and peace and the resolution of conflict can only come through greater awareness of our connections. I think it's possible to change the world by reinforcing our inter-connectiveness, the spirit of one family of man, to the children of the world.\" Building on the objectives of _Fraggle Rock_ , Jim envisioned a series centered around an intergalactic documentary film crew, reporting back to their home planet about life on Earth\u2014much as Traveling Matt had reported back to the Fraggle residents on his adventures in \"outer space\"\u2014while making the point that all life on the planet is connected. The project never got beyond an illustrated proposal, but Jim was serious about ensuring he had a meaningful presence on television\u2014especially since _Fraggle Rock_ was coming to an end.\n\nDue to some difficulties with HBO\u2014Jim would never let on exactly what had happened, but there were murmurings that _Fraggle_ had been collateral damage in another battle over exclusive content for the network\u2014it had been decided that _Fraggle Rock_ would end after ninety-six episodes. While that was four shy of the one hundred usually needed for syndication, cable television was making it increasingly easier to syndicate shows with fewer episodes. However, Jim still wanted _Fraggle_ to run for five seasons, which meant stretching the final twenty-six episodes out over two years. So while Jim and the _Fraggle Rock_ team would be filming the final episode in Toronto in May 1986, the episode itself wouldn't air until March 1987\u2014nearly a year later.\n\nIn the year since their \"Future of Fraggles\" meeting, Jerry Juhl and Jocelyn Stevenson had overseen the writing of a final arc of stories that brought some closure to the story of the Fraggles and their relationship with the Gorgs, the Doozers, and even Doc, who, in one of _Fraggle Rock_ 's most memorable moments would finally discover the Fraggles. While Jim had initially resisted a final episode, he agreed with producer Larry Mirkin's assessment of the final story arc: \"Those last four shows are just beautiful.\" \"We who were totally involved in the creation of the world through the years, came to feel so strongly that we wanted a sense of... not ending, but a sense of roundness and finality to the series,\" said Juhl. \"We tied up the threads.\"\n\nAnd so, Jim had returned to play the minstrel Cantus in the second-to-last episode, dispensing his usual nuggets of cryptic wisdom in a typically calm manner as he helps the Fraggles find their way. While Jim wasn't directly involved in the final episode, Jerry Juhl's script seemed to capture much of Jim's own view of the universe. \"Everyone is magic,\" the Trash Heap oracle tells Gobo. \"The silly creatures are sometimes just too silly to remember that.... You go to him and you say this... _'You cannot leave the magic.'_ \" In the end, Doc and Sprocket move to a new home far out in the desert, sadly leaving their beloved workshop and the Fraggles behind\u2014only to discover a new Fraggle hole has magically appeared behind a box in their new home. \"I think we all cried when we watched it,\" said Jerry Nelson. As the Fraggles sang and danced in Doc's new apartment, a final, loving dedication appeared at the end of the closing credits: \"THIS SHOW IS FOR DON SAHLIN.\"\n\nFollowing the taping of the final episode in May, Jim threw a wrap party for the entire _Fraggle_ team. \"This whole project has been a joy from the beginning,\" he told the crew earnestly. \"It's fun when you start off trying to do something that makes a positive statement... that brings out the best in a lot of people. [ _Fraggle Rock_ ] is something that's going to stay around and something that all of us are going to be proud of for a long time. And that's really nice.\" _You cannot leave the magic_.\n\nDespite his intentionally arm's-length engagement with the show, _Fraggle Rock_ had been something special for Jim\u2014a higher calling for television as well as an embodiment of his own views of what was right about the world. \"Jim wanted to make a difference,\" said Jerry Juhl later. \"He knew that television shows do not bring peace to the world, but he wasn't so cynical to say we can't think about it. There was a kind of idealism there that could seem naive and childlike, but that didn't mean it couldn't come true.\"\n\nThat idealism\u2014that ridiculous optimism\u2014carried over to _Labyrinth_ as well. As Jim made the rounds with the press in the weeks leading up to the film's June 27, 1986, release, he was brimming with excited anticipation and was clearly proud of the movie. \"When I go see a film, when I leave the theater, I like a few things,\" he explained. \"I like to be happier than I was when I went in. I like a film to leave me with an 'up' feeling. And I like a picture to have a sense of substance. I like it to be about life, about things that matter to me. And so I think it's what we're trying to do with this film, is trying to do a film that would make a difference to you if you saw it.\"\n\nAt first, it seemed the reviews would bear out Jim's high expectations and enthusiasm. Nina Darnton of _The New York Times_ hailed _Labyrinth_ as \"fabulous\" and \"a remarkable achievement\" marred only by what Darnton thought to be a weak performance from Connelly. That, unfortunately, was as good as it was going to get. _Chicago Sun-Times_ critic Roger Ebert, always an admirer, tried hard to make lemonade from what he found to be a most bitter lemon. \"[It's] obviously made with infinite care and pains, and it began with real inspiration [with] impressive production that is often good to look at,\" said Ebert sympathetically. \"Yet, there's something missing. It never really comes alive.\" Nick Roddick, a critic for _Cinema Papers_ , also tried gamely to point out _Labyrinth_ 's merits. \"[It] has quite a lot going for it,\" wrote Roddick, \"but it all somehow fails to gel.... It's all admirably clever rather than compulsive watching.\" Perhaps, the critic gently suggested, Jim's talents were \"not the stuff of adult fantasy.\"\n\nMore typical, however, were reviews like the one in _Variety_ , which took a nearly morbid glee in dashing Jim and the film repeatedly against the rocks. \"A crashing bore,\" the reviewer sneered, unimpressed by puppets he found \"terminally cute with no real charm\" and which \"become annoying rather than endearing.\" Even Connelly was \"stiff and childish.\" (Despite early criticism of her _Labyrinth_ performance, Connelly would go on to have a very successful acting career; in 2002, she won an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for _A Beautiful Mind_.) Meanwhile, over at the _Chicago Tribune_ , critic Gene Siskel was positively cranky. \"Jim Henson knows what he's doing with his Muppet characters on TV and in the movies,\" wrote Siskel. \"But he's completely at sea when he tries to create more mature entertainment.\" _Labyrinth_ was \"quite awful,\" its creatures were \"visually ugly,\" and Jim had stooped to \"one of the sleaziest gimmicks a film can employ\" by placing a baby in peril as the center of the plot. All in all, thundered Siskel, the film was \"an enormous waste of talent and money.\"\n\nWhile critics were split on what it was about _Labyrinth_ that annoyed them the most\u2014was it trying to be a music video? Was it supposed to be scary?\u2014most agreed that the biggest problem was the story. There had been too many hands at work on the screenplay, and it showed; the resulting patch job had turned the movie into a \"series of incidents,\" wrote Ebert. \"Sarah does this, she does that... until at last nothing much matters.\" In the end, \"it doesn't have a story that does justice to the production.\" _Variety_ sniffed that the story \"loses its way and never comes close to the archetypical myths and fears of great fairy tales.... [It's a] silly and flat excursion to a land you can't wait to leave.\"\n\nWhile that was probably all fair criticism, the real problem\u2014as Jim had feared from the beginning\u2014was with the character of Sarah. Despite the best efforts of Phillips and May, Sarah remained an empty, slightly brusque character, whose motivations were suspect and who didn't seem to have evolved or grown by the end of the film. Jerry Nelson summed up the problem perhaps most succinctly: \"I didn't give a fuck whether she got her brother back or not. I just didn't like her at all.... You had to care about her, and you had to care about her getting her brother back. And I just didn't.\" Neither did audiences. After a relatively strong opening weekend, _Labyrinth_ began losing money so rapidly that distributor Tri-Star Pictures pulled the film from theaters after three weeks. In the end, _Labyrinth_ only grossed $12 million on its $25 million budget\u2014a \"costly bore,\" snarked _Variety_.\n\nJim was devastated by the response. \"I was stunned and dazed for several months trying to figure out what went wrong\u2014where _I_ went wrong,\" he said later. \"[It] was a real blow,\" added Jane Henson. \"He couldn't understand it.\" \"I think that was the closest I've ever seen him to turning in on himself and getting quite depressed,\" said Brian Henson. \"It was rather a bad time.\" Arthur Novell, Jim's publicist, thought the response took a physical toll as well. \"[It was] really despair,\" said Novell. \"He changed physically... the beard got lighter.... He had great hopes for _Labyrinth_. The buildup toward it was so heavy and strong and positive, and he got bit by it. He was stung by the criticism. But it was _never_ about the money. It wasn't about... what he lost, what he spent.\"\n\nAs with _The Dark Crystal_ , it had been all about artistic vision and artistic integrity. _Labyrinth_ was \"absolutely the closest project to him,\" said Jane, the one in which he had invested most of his creative capital\u2014and to have audiences reject it felt to Jim like they were rejecting _him_ personally. \"That movie looked exactly the way Jim wanted,\" said creative consultant Larry Mirkin. \"Everything you see on the screen looks exactly the way Jim imagined it.\" But as Oz noted, apart from the grousing of a few perpetually unhappy critics, the problem really wasn't with Jim's vision; it was with the storytelling. \"Take a look at _Labyrinth_ and forget the story for a moment,\" said Oz. \"The images you get are abso _-fucking_ -lutely amazing. Absolutely amazing. That's Jim's production design and that's what his love was. It was just staggering the work he did. But as a story, it just didn't hold up.\"\n\n\"Life is a kind of labyrinth,\" Jim had once mused, \"with all its twists and turns, its straight paths and occasional dead ends.\" For the moment, _Labyrinth_ itself was one of those dead ends\u2014and so, it seemed, were movies. He had wandered down a blind passage into a stone wall\u2014but a bit of offhanded good advice at a party, courtesy of a drunken Jerry Nelson, would help set him back on course again. \"You know,\" slurred Nelson, draping an arm warmly around Jim's shoulders, \"you should stick with television.\"\n\n# **CHAPTER THIRTEEN**\n\n#\n\n# **STORYTELLER**  \n1986\u20131987\n\n_Jim directing the \"Heartless Giant\" episode of_ The Storyteller _in 1988_. (photo credit 13.1)\n\nAS _L ABYRINTH_ FADED FROM MOVIE SCREENS IN THE SUMMER OF 1986, Jim\u2014after the brief period of hand-wringing that had so alarmed some of his colleagues\u2014became increasingly pragmatic about the movie's fate. He took full responsibility for the film's tepid reception, acknowledging that it \"wasn't the movie audiences were waiting to see.\" It would be easy to blame bad distribution or a poor release date, he told _The Hollywood Reporter_ , but \"obviously, the picture was not in tune with our audience completely, or they would have found us wherever we were.\" Typically, he refused to take up much time second-guessing the film's misfortune. For Jim, who had seemed to so effortlessly walk away from the world's most popular television show at the height of its success to pursue a new venture, it was easy to move beyond the relative failure of _Labyrinth_ and on to newer, exciting projects. \"I work in one capacity for a while, and then it's time to jump over to some other kind of thing,\" he said earnestly, explaining that he already had in mind \"a handful\" of other projects. \"To me, it's just fun.\"\n\nFun, in fact, was the name of the game for Jim's first post- _Labyrinth_ project, a one-hour television special taped in February 1986 for HBO and the BBC called _The Tale of the Bunny Picnic_. Jim had undertaken the project due in no small part to the encouragement of Cheryl, who thought that after _The Dark Crystal_ and _Labyrinth_ \u2014\"these huge, grandiose visions\"\u2014it might be fun to get back to doing \"something with cute, fun, funny puppets and do it as a family show.\" The story, too\u2014in which the well-meaning but overly imaginative Bean Bunny tries to warn his fellow rabbits about a nearby dog\u2014had been inspired by a bit of real-life cuteness, dating back to _The Muppet Show_ years in London when Jim and the Muppet performers would regularly picnic out on Hampstead Heath at dusk. As the puppeteers sprawled on the ground to eat, groups of rabbits would emerge from the brush to forage in the shadows\u2014and Jim came to refer to these excursions to the heath as \"bunny picnics.\" One particular evening, as rabbits shuffled about in the grass\u2014\"looking to all the world like they were gonna have a meeting or convention or something,\" remembered Jim\u2014a dog raced over, barking madly. \"The rabbits, of course, disappeared in a flash,\" said Jim, \"[and] Cheryl and I thought it might be fun to make up a story about what had just happened. And from that notion came _The Tale of the Bunny Picnic_.\"\n\n_Bunny Picnic_ was a bit of warmhearted, homespun fare cut from the same cloth as _Emmet Otter_ or _The Muppet Musicians of Bremen_ , intentionally cute and with lively songs by the _Fraggle Rock_ team of Philip Balsam and Dennis Lee. After more than a year of seeing themselves as backbenchers to the Creature Shop, the builders in the Muppet workshop leapt into the new production with relish, building fluffy, fuzzy, huggable rabbits, dogs, and other animals, based on designs by children's illustrator Diane Dawson Hearn. For the Muppet workshop, \"it was really fun to make puppets again\"\u2014and Jim delighted in the two weeks he spent in London in February directing and performing. He enjoyed working in television again\u2014but after spending the last five years immersed in fully realized worlds of goblins, Mystics, and Gelflings, there now had to be more to television than just the bright colors and soft edges of the Muppets. \"Having done the Muppet stuff so beautifully, [and] having nothing else to explore or prove there,\" said Jerry Juhl, \"[Jim] wanted to move on.\"\n\nThere was an employee moving on at that time, too, leaving David Lazer\u2014who would always be involved with the management of the company, despite his best efforts to stay retired\u2014with a sticky personnel issue at Henson Associates. Following the promotion of Jim's longtime assistant Mira Velimirovic in January 1986, Jim had been planning to hire thirty-year-old Mary Ann Cleary\u2014who had worked for Henson Associates several years earlier, and in whom Jim had always had more than just a professional interest\u2014as his new assistant. Lazer, astutely gauging the likely outcome of Jim's proposed arrangement, called publicist and close personal advisor Arthur Novell and judiciously asked him to arrange a lunch date for Jane and Mary Ann. \"See how Jane reacts to all this,\" suggested Lazer.\n\nThe arranged lunch was amicable enough, recalled Novell, but it was clear that Jane and Mary Ann \"were sizing each other up.\" Later, Jane would only coyly describe her lunch conversation with Mary Ann as \"interesting\"\u2014and Jim, perhaps preferring not to chum the waters any further, opted for Cheryl as his assistant instead, hiring her in February 1986. By the end of the summer, however, following a working vacation through Egypt, Japan, and Indonesia, Cheryl left to study textiles at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, leaving the position once again vacant. This time, Jim quietly installed Mary Ann as his assistant, and within two months\u2014just as Lazer predicted\u2014Jim and Mary Ann were vacationing together on a yacht cruise in Sardinia with Bernie Brillstein and other friends, celebrating Jim's fiftieth birthday. But Lazer, and others, had rightly sensed that this new relationship would be more than just a casual office romance or fling.\n\nIt was easy to see Jim's attraction to Mary Ann. \"She was spirited, outgoing, and attractive,\" said Al Gottesman matter-of-factly. Good-looking and lithe, with an easy smile and a shaggy mane of sandy blond hair, Mary Ann was, in many ways, what Jane was not. Mary Ann, who had initially had little physical attraction to Jim\u2014she had spurned his advances several years earlier\u2014soon found herself drawn in by the sheer power of his personality, that same undefinable trait that even the most seasoned Hollywood veterans found irresistible. She was charmed by his ease in conversation, and would watch in adoring fascination as he punctuated his sentences with a quick sweep of his hands or a flutter of his long fingers. \"Jim really used his hands,\" said Mary Ann. \"They were very powerful and present, as much as any other attribute. A puppeteer's hands.\" In no time, she and Jim would be practically inseparable.\n\nThat fall, Jim already had a more ambitious television project under way\u2014an anthology show as gorgeously designed as _The Dark Crystal_ and with the same kind of fairy tale _\u2014cum_ \u2014music video look and rhythm he had tried, with only some success, to instill in _Labyrinth_. The basic idea had come from Lisa, who had studied folklore and mythology at Harvard. Lisa had written a long treatment for a show presenting what she called the \"unfamous\" versions of fairy tales \"that really capture the flavor of how these stories were told and could be told with visuals that feel more authentic.\" Jim had taken to the idea immediately, sending graduate students fanning out to academic libraries to photocopy old Russian folktales, Celtic and Japanese fairy tales, Italian myths, and heroic tales\u2014and the more stories he read, the more excited he became. \"Most folktales... are really very good, very solid, gutsy material that is really quite adult and sometimes quite violent,\" he said later, \"and we were intrigued with the idea of treating the material honestly, the way it was meant to be treated.\"\n\nAs Jim and Lisa talked through the concept and began putting more ideas down on paper, Lisa suggested that the best way to tell the old stories might be to have them dramatically narrated by a storyteller. What made folklore truly special, she explained, were \"the words, and the sound of a man's voice telling a tale and evoking a host of images.\" With that description, Jim could immediately see the visual possibilities\u2014and when he called Duncan Kenworthy to propose that the Englishman oversee production of the show in London, he excitedly described a man sitting by a fire telling stories of fantastic creatures he was certain the Creature Shop could bring convincingly to life. Once the reliable Kenworthy had agreed to serve as his producer, Jim was certain the look and feel of the show\u2014which he was proposing to call _The Storyteller_ \u2014would be just as he wanted. However, there were still two critical pieces that had yet to fall into place.\n\nJim intended to treat _The Storyteller_ much as he had _Fraggle Rock_ ; while he would serve as executive producer, establish the overarching look and feel for the series, and direct an episode from time to time, for the most part he planned to leave the show in the hands of his creative team, including Kenworthy and, ideally, a director with a distinctive style. However, finding a director suited to Jim's vision of _The Storyteller_ wouldn't be easy\u2014after all, how exactly did one film something in an \"oral tradition\" where the voice evoked images? The answer, suggested Jim, was already at work in music videos, where lyrics often _suggested_ a story against which the accompanying video established its own narrative. Jim had done something similar with _Time Piece_ , using quick cuts and seemingly unrelated images to convey a story with a percussive soundtrack behind it. In the fledgling modern music video era\u2014the upstart MTV channel had been launched only five years earlier\u2014no one made music videos that were more interesting or visually compelling than Steve Barron, a twenty-nine-year-old Irishman who had directed Michael Jackson's groundbreaking \"Billie Jean\" and the cutting-edge \"Take on Me\" for the Norwegian band a-ha. \"He was the absolute top of the heap,\" said Lisa\u2014and with only minimal prodding from Kenworthy, Barron signed on as Jim's primary director.\n\nThe most important part of _The Storyteller_ , however, was the stories themselves. From the start, Kenworthy was enthusiastic about the work of thirty-two-year-old English playwright Anthony Minghella, who had written a thoughtful British television miniseries called _What If It's Raining_ , which explored the effects of separation and divorce on an English family. At Kenworthy's prompting, Jim had invited Minghella to lunch to discuss writing _The Storyteller_ , a summons Minghella excitedly accepted simply because he wanted to meet Jim. Over lunch, recalled Minghella, \"[Jim] told me he had an idea for a series which they'd been exploring for a while, which involved a man by a fire telling stories.\" But \" _nobody,_ \" said Minghella, \"wants to look at a man telling stories.... I just didn't get it.\" The writer politely declined.\n\nAnd yet, the image Jim had enthusiastically described, of the storyteller sitting with his dog before a roaring fire, stayed with him. \"This was something I learned about Jim later,\" said Minghella. \"He had a brilliant sense of the possibilities of something without ever really being able to articulate those possibilities.\" Kenworthy was still convinced Jim and Minghella would be a good fit, and after several false starts, arranged for them to spend an evening listening to actual storytellers weave folktales. \"I was even more convinced then that it wouldn't work out,\" said Minghella, but he agreed to write a pilot episode anyway, eventually turning in an intelligent script based on the Brothers Grimm tale \"Hans My Hedgehog,\" about a half man, half hedgehog who can only be freed from his curse by true love.\n\nAs the Creature Shop went to work building the necessary characters\u2014including the man-hedgehog Hans, a giant chicken, and the Storyteller's dog\u2014Jim and Kenworthy assembled their cast, bringing in English actor John Hurt to take the critical role of the craggy and enigmatic Storyteller. Jim was paying for the pilot himself, and Kenworthy did his best to keep an eye on the bottom line, regularly alerting Jim to any potential cost overruns. Keeping with its music video mentality, _The Storyteller_ would feature computer-generated backgrounds and animation, requiring long and expensive computer time to render. Most of the budget busting, however, was on the part of the Creature Shop, which was trying to maintain motion picture standards on a television budget. Kenworthy grumbled to Jim about what he called the Creature Shop's \" 'sculpted foot syndrome,' where the level of finish on everything is pitched at feature film standard.\" With the pilot for _The Storyteller_ already budgeted at a whopping $943,000 for a thirty-minute program, Kenworthy promised to keep the production on budget. Still, Jim went through his own script to see if there were any places where an otherwise elaborate or expensive visual effect might be eliminated, writing \"SHOW THIS\" on some pages and \"DO WE NEED THIS?\" on others.\n\nIt didn't get any cheaper once director Steve Barron began shooting at Lee International Studios in London on August 26. Barron was a tough director, with high expectations of himself and his performers\u2014including Brian Henson, performing the role of the Storyteller's straight-talking dog\u2014and Barron would work the cast and crew ten hours one day, then edit for fourteen hours the next. \"I really don't think we could sustain the effort on a weekly basis,\" Kenworthy confessed to Jim. But Jim was delighted with the results and proudly pronounced the effort as \"some of the prettiest television we've ever done.\" Making the most of Jim's artistic vision, director Steve Barron's rock 'n' roll rhythms, and Anthony Minghella's poetic scriptwriting, _The Storyteller_ was a simple concept, sumptuously done. Now Jim just needed to find a television network that believed in it as much as he did.\n\nFor much of the fall, Jim was sorting out private matters. While he loved his apartment at the Sherry-Netherland, for tax reasons he had recently closed on a second apartment, a Southern-style structure at 633 Steamboat Road, overlooking Smith Cove in Greenwich, Connecticut. The apartment at Steamboat Road would become his official home address, and for the rest of his life accountants at Henson Associates would carefully track Jim's schedule to ensure he spent the appropriate number of days in Connecticut to qualify for Connecticut residency, and its marginally lower tax rate.\n\nAs he had done at the Sherry-Netherland, Jim tore down and rebuilt the interior of the Steamboat Road apartment, then called a professional\u2014this time designer Connie Beale\u2014to assist with the decorating. Like many of Jim's most fulfilling projects, the work with Beale was a true collaboration. Where Beale's tastes were more traditional, Jim leaned ethnic and international, and the resulting d\u00e9cor was an eclectic but tasteful merging of artistic temperaments. Jim loved spending the afternoon shopping with Beale, discussing decorating over lunch, then buying handmade furniture from antiques stores or browsing for sculpture, fabrics, and art at Elements in Greenwich or Julie's Gallery in New York. Jim filled his rooms with Windsor chairs, African masks, and Indonesian cabinets\u2014but his favorite place in the apartment was the back room with its floor-to-ceiling windows, where he would sprawl on the sofa beneath a sculpture of herons, and watch the waves out in Smith Cove.\n\nOne thing Jim didn't have in his apartment\u2014either at Steamboat Road or the Sherry-Netherland\u2014was memories. \"As much as he loved objects,\" said Cheryl, \"he didn't care about holding on to things.\" When Jim had moved out of the house in Bedford, then, he had left behind not only Jane, but nearly everything else\u2014from furniture and floor coverings, to school report cards and souvenirs\u2014and simply started over again, building a new life in a new apartment with new _everything_. Jane, meanwhile, after spending the past year living in Bedford with fifteen-year-old Heather, had decided to move into a house of her own, carefully packing up boxes of painted wooden toys and handmade Christmas ornaments and rearranging old furniture in her new house in Greenwich. Their new homes, as much as anything, symbolized their differing approaches to their relationship with each other as well as their perspectives on life in general: Jim was always looking forward, excited about new things and the future, while Jane carried the weight and obligations of the past. Perhaps tellingly, their homes in Greenwich were less than three miles apart; even legally separated, Jim and Jane could never be entirely removed from each other.\n\nAs Thanksgiving neared, Jim was in discussions with Brandon Tartikoff, the enthusiastic head of programming for NBC, to gauge the network's interest in _The Storyteller_. The response was encouraging. \"[Tartikoff] loves it,\" Jim told Kenworthy. \"Or at least loves it enough to broadcast it in January so that he can find out if the _audience_ loves it.\" While a favorable reception from an audience might eventually assure the show a spot as a regular prime-time series, Jim wasn't ready to call it a sure thing, especially with a series as unconventional as _The Storyteller_. And now that Tartikoff had opened the door, Jim wanted another series ready to pitch to NBC in the event _Storyteller_ failed to take hold.\n\nJim was an enormous admirer of comedian Paul Reubens's frantic Saturday morning _Pee-wee's Playhouse_ , which, apart from being funny, liberally combined live actors with playful chromakey effects and computer animation. \"I thought it was just terrific,\" Jim had written to Reubens appreciatively after the show's premiere in 1986. \"We've been waiting for someone to come along and put a lot of this stuff together like you did.\" Jim thought he could have even more fun with the technology than Reubens\u2014and since early summer he had been kicking around an idea for a fast-paced, sketch-driven comedy called _IN-TV_ that would utilize all the technology Jim had at his disposal\u2014from computer graphics and chromakey to Muppets and animatronics\u2014to poke fun at the medium of television itself.\n\nAt the heart of _IN-TV_ was a clever concept: each week, a live guest star would get sucked into the television set and would have to work his way back out again, usually by moving from one bad television channel to another. It was a fun idea, giving Jim an opportunity to satirize the seemingly endless parade of upstart cable channels and lame public access shows that were common in the early days of cable. Jim had a number of new characters in mind, though not much else, but he was excited about it\u2014and when Jim was excited about a project, no detail was too small for his attention. He designed the IN-TV logo himself, and brought in respected music producer Phil Ramone to collaborate on original songs for a new Muppet band. He was so pleased with how things were proceeding, in fact, that he presented Ramone with a thank-you gift\u2014a $2,900, thirty-five-inch Mitsubishi television\u2014along with a note thanking Ramone for his music and assuring the composer with typical optimism that \"we're going to have great fun doing some wonderful television that should look good on this set.\"\n\nJim spent the first part of December promoting _Labyrinth_ overseas\u2014like _The Dark Crystal_ before it, _Labyrinth_ would perform strongly in the international market\u2014traveling with Heather and Mary Ann to Germany and London, where the British press swooned adoringly as Jim introduced the lumbering Ludo to Princess Diana at the royal premiere. There were more parties and premieres in Amsterdam, Madrid, Paris, and Copenhagen before they finally returned home just before Christmas. While the pre-holiday skiing in Vermont was \"great,\" Christmas itself was a somber affair. Jim spent the week between Christmas and New Year's Day silently helping Jane pack up the last of their belongings in the Bedford house\u2014and all the boxes, of course, would go to Jane's new place, not Jim's. It was a \"broken-family Christmas,\" said John Henson. \"It was really devastating.\"\n\nThe first two weeks of 1987 were spent rehearsing and preparing for the _IN-TV_ pilot, which Jim was moving forward with despite some apprehensions about the show's script, by _Mork and Mindy_ scribe David Misch. While Jim could usually tell intuitively when a script wasn't working, he didn't always know _why_. Creative consultant Larry Mirkin\u2014who Jim relied on to give him a straight read on scripts to help figure such things out\u2014told Jim he thought the script was a disaster, \"consistently dark, victimized, and pessimistic,\" and flat-out unfunny. Despite Mirkin's misgivings, Jim and the Muppet performers spent three days taping Misch's messy script anyway, which Jim eventually edited down into a ten-minute pitch reel and renamed _Inner Tube_. Bernie Brillstein was assigned the job of selling the show to NBC\u2014or any other network for that matter\u2014but found no takers. Frustrated, Jim would spend the better part of the year trying to figure out what to do with it.\n\nWhile _Inner Tube_ sputtered, _The Storyteller_ \u2014which finally made its debut on NBC on the evening of Saturday, January 31, 1987\u2014was a qualified success. While it failed to crack even the top thirty in the ratings for the week, _The Storyteller_ was an immediate critical hit\u2014and, in fact, would go on to win the Emmy as the Outstanding Children's Program. It would also earn Jim some of his best reviews in years. \"It's time to stop thinking of him simply as the man who created the Muppets,\" said an impressed _Hollywood Reporter_ , finally conceding a point Jim had been trying to make for two decades. \"When a show arrives under the auspices of Jim Henson, we can be pretty sure we won't be disappointed,\" wrote Walter Goodman in _The New York Times_. \"If it [ _The Storyteller_ ] were turned into a series, that would be a real happy ending.\" _USA Today_ , meanwhile, hailed it as \"one of Jim Henson's finest moments on TV.\"\n\nJim was justifiably proud of _The Storyteller_ , which he regarded as something of an artistic higher calling. \"It is our responsibility to keep telling these tales\u2014to tell them in a way that they teach and entertain and give meaning to our lives,\" he said later. \"This is not merely an obligation, it's something we must do because we love doing it.\" A delighted NBC offered to pick up _The Storyteller_ as a weekly series, and Jim approached Anthony Minghella about writing new episodes. The inscrutable Minghella, who had initially been skeptical about his ability to write for the series, found himself caught up in Jim's energy and enthusiasm. With Jim, said Minghella, \"it's very hard to just visit. You tend to lose your return ticket when you go on the journey [with him]. I wrote the pilot and then discovered, of course, that it was a fascinating subject and the possibilities of it were enormous. [Jim] was absolutely right. There was a series there and, in fact, we could go on making it for the rest of our lives.\"\n\nEven with _The Storyteller_ now fully in production\u2014and the problematic _Inner Tube_ on the back burner\u2014Jim continued to develop and pitch one television series after another. One of them\u2014 _Puppetman_ , a live-action sitcom about a group of puppeteers working on a daily children's television show\u2014actually made it as far as the pilot stage, though abysmal ratings doomed it from being picked up as a regular series. Others\u2014like _Muppet Voyager_ , still languishing in outline form in Jim's desk drawer, or _Read My Lips_ , a comedy series co-written by Muppet performer Richard Hunt about puppets who come to life after they've been put away for the night\u2014never made it much beyond the written page. Jim had always kept a breakneck pace\u2014multiple projects were the rule, rather than the exception\u2014but lately some of the projects had a slight whiff of indifference to them, as if Jim were simply launching a handful of darts at a dartboard, hoping for any of them to hit. \"I think Jim felt... he was responsible [for us],\" said Richard Hunt. \"And he would go out of his way to keep creating new work so that these people had something to do.\" And if Hunt or any of the Muppet performers or writers questioned the artistic merits of a project, Jim would simply fold his arms and sigh knowingly. \"Richard, please,\" he would say quietly. \"I'm _trying_.\"\n\nAnd he _was_ trying. Jim took seriously the management of his company\u2014and his nearly 150 employees\u2014personally writing chatty quarterly reports to the entire staff, organizing company orientations, and even submitting himself and several managers to the Myers-Briggs test to identify their management styles. Jim's Myers-Briggs results labeled him, to perhaps no one's surprise, as an idealist. As he made a list of his business objectives, Jim wrote near the top, \"work for common good of all mankind\" and \"use of technology and business for common good.\" The \"common good,\" as he saw it, was \"growth and development of children... sharing wealth... respect[ing] work\u2014nature\u2014environment.\" But running the company was taking increasingly more and more of his time, draining his energy from the creative projects he considered his _real_ work for the common good. \"I've never particularly wanted to have a large organization,\" Jim confessed to one reporter. \"The trick is to try to stay small enough to be creative but still be able to do all the projects we want to do\u2014and not to get so big where you just spend your time managing people and trying to keep everybody working.\" And _trying_.\n\nAt times, the pressures were more than he wanted to handle. He was easily frustrated with internal squabbles; Henson Associates' legal department, in fact, could often be particularly exhausting. \"The lawyers would all fight with each other,\" remembered Jane Henson, and then would call in Jim to resolve the dispute. Jim\u2014who wouldn't even argue with his own wife\u2014refused to engage, and simply backed out of the room with his big hands up, palms out. \"You resolve it,\" he begged them. \"I have to go to London.\" And then, said Jane, \"he'd just get on a plane and go,\" whether he actually had business in London or not. \"It was fight or flight,\" said Jane, \"and he'd choose flight.\"\n\nThat summer, however, there really was business taking him overseas and away from the worries of the company. In July, Jim spent twenty days in Charleville-M\u00e9zi\u00e8res, France, teaching a puppetry workshop to twenty-one students\u2014\"many of whom,\" Jim wrote playfully, \"will not speak English.\" With Brian and Cheryl assisting, Jim strolled the classrooms at the Institut International de la Marionnette, teaching puppet building, Muppet-style performing, and going over the basics of lip-synching, singing \"Fr\u00e8re Jacques\" as a roomful of students waved a sea of Muppets over their heads, staring intently at monitors.\n\nFrom France, Jim returned to the familiar grounds of Elstree film studios in Borehamwood, where the Henson Organization\u2014the British arm of Henson Associates\u2014had taken over three soundstages, along with several offices in the studio's centrally located John Maxwell Building, to film four new episodes of _The Storyteller_. After the successful premiere episode in January, Jim had been approached by a number of young directors interested in working on the show\u2014\"It's almost like the early days of _The Muppet Show_ , when top stars would beg to be guests,\" said producer Duncan Kenworthy\u2014but after handing directing duties over to Steve Barron, Charles Sturridge, and Jon Amiel, Jim was itching to get back in the director's chair himself. And once he was back within the comforts of Elstree, Jim took the helm of the episode \"Soldier and Death,\" an adaptation of a Russian folktale in which a soldier uses a magic sack to capture Death. Jim had a ball.\n\nFinancially, however, _The Storyteller_ was barely keeping its head above water\u2014while Jim was now financing the series with money from NBC and the independent British television company TVS, _The Storyteller_ was running a deficit. So troublesome was the series to produce, in fact, that Jim and NBC had agreed that it would be impossible to produce as a weekly series; instead, _The Storyteller_ would air on the network as a series of half-hour specials, shown on a sporadic basis. But that wasn't really an ideal setup, either\u2014and on August 22, Jim met with Brandon Tartikoff to suggest that installments of _The Storyteller_ might be incorporated into a weekly themed anthology series Jim was proposing, called _The Jim Henson Hour_. Tartikoff liked the idea well enough that he asked Jim to prepare a proposal and a pitch reel\u2014which NBC would pay for\u2014that Tartikoff could then take back to the network brass.\n\nAs Jim saw it, _The Jim Henson Hour_ would be \"in the same grand tradition\" as _The Wonderful World of Disney_ , a weekly anthology in which Disney appeared on camera to introduce an assortment of features, from cartoons and nature films to short movies and behind-the-scenes documentaries. \"Each week,\" Jim explained, \"we'll tell a different story: some with puppets, some with people, and most with a mix of the two.\" For _The Jim Henson Hour_ , Jim was proposing four different themed shows, shown in a regular rotation. The first week of each month, then, would be devoted exclusively to _The Storyteller_ , allowing Jim to put the show on a regular monthly schedule as part of his own series. And since he would now have an hour to fill, Jim could produce hour-long installments of _The Storyteller_ \u2014something he was longing to do, as current episodes were only thirty minutes\u2014slowing down and spreading out \"to allow ourselves to take advantage of the rich imagery\" of folktales.\n\nFor the second week of each month, Jim was hoping to salvage the remains of _Inner Tube_ and reshape them into something called _Lead-Free TV_. The concept was still relatively the same\u2014a cast of new Muppets and a guest star interacting across television channels\u2014but for Jim, it was still more about playing with the new technology. \"In the many years we've been on television, the capabilities of TV itself have changed dramatically,\" he pointed out enthusiastically. \"Using state-of-the-art technology we can create settings that exist only as electronic information.\" With new technology at his disposal, Jim envisioned _Lead-Free TV_ as \" _The Muppet Show_ of the future!\"\n\nThe third week of each month would be devoted to \"Picture-book Specials\"\u2014spotlighting more homespun fare like _Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas_ or _The Tale of the Bunny Picnic_ \u2014while the fourth episode in the monthly cycle would be \"The Next Wave,\" shows that would have \"unlimited potential,\" Jim said, \"because we will allow ourselves to do almost anything.\" Jim already had plenty of ideas for his \"Next Wave\" specials, including a celebration of the upcoming twentieth anniversary of _Sesame Street_ , a Miss Piggy special, and a behind-the-scenes documentary on the Muppets. \"We're tremendously excited about these shows,\" he enthused.\n\nOn September 25, 1987\u2014the day after his fifty-first birthday, and only a little more than a month after discussing the idea with Tartikoff\u2014Jim stepped before the cameras to tape his host segments for the pitch reel for _The Jim Henson Hour_. Dressed casually in a black-and-white-patterned jacket over a collared shirt, Jim looked remarkably at ease as he strolled onto a set designed and constructed to resemble an idealized version of the Muppet workshop. It was a perfect setup. \"I thought that was a wonderful way of doing _The Jim Henson Hour_ because that's the way it happens,\" said Muppet performer Kevin Clash. \"What I love and always have loved about... Jim Henson started in this workshop.... That's the way that you do it. That says _Jim_ to me.\" It was perhaps no wonder that Jim looked so comfortable; this was home, in the workshop\u2014or at least a reasonable facsimile\u2014and Jim played his role as a cheerful and thoughtful host enthusiastically. \"Imagination is what this show is all about,\" he said warmly, bantering with Gonzo, Animal, Miss Piggy, and Kermit (\"you, as usual, have your hand in almost everything here,\" joked Kermit) and grinning broadly as he played at the controls of a computer and teased an animatronic gryphon. \"We think it's an hour families will want to spend together watching quality television,\" he concluded. \"What more can I say?\"\n\nAs he sent the pitch reel off for editing, Jim reported that its filming had gone \"quite well.\" He found it was fun to play with the Muppet gang again\u2014and with Frank Oz back performing Animal and Miss Piggy, even for a moment, it was almost like old times, when Jim could play with the guys and not worry so much about running a company. Juhl, too, after writing almost exclusively for _Fraggle Rock_ for the last four years, discovered he enjoyed writing for the familiar characters again. Feeling nostalgic, Juhl had written what Jim considered a \"lovely\" Christmas show, in which the casts from the three major Muppet productions\u2014 _The Muppet Show_ , _Sesame Street_ , and _Fraggle Rock_ \u2014gathered at Fozzie's mother's house for the holidays. The resulting special, _A Muppet Family Christmas_ , would be one of Jim's favorites.\n\nTaped quickly in late September and early October at Glen Warren Productions in Ontario, _A Muppet Family Christmas_ was a true homecoming. Not only was Oz back (\"He doesn't do a lot of puppeteering anymore,\" said Jim. \"So this was very much a reunion.\"), but so were _Muppet Show_ alumni Peter Harris and Martin Baker, as well as Caroll Spinney, just starting his twentieth consecutive season on _Sesame Street_ , whom Jim greeted with a warm, \"Hello, Muppets West!\" With Juhl's lovingly written script, Harris's tight direction, and top-notch performances from every Muppet performer, _A Muppet Family Christmas_ stands as one of Jim's finest, and most underappreciated, productions. As the characters from the various Muppet universes encounter each other, many for the first time, the hour-long episode is full of remarkable moments: Ernie and Bert bantering with Doc; Kermit and Robin entering a Fraggle hole and learning how the Fraggles give presents; Rowlf speaking \"dog\" with Sprocket (\"Woof woof! Yeah! Bark bark!\"). Jim even makes a cameo in the closing moments, watching over the Christmas celebration from the kitchen with Sprocket. \"Well, they certainly seem to be having a good time out there, Sprocket,\" Jim says. \"I like it when they have a good time.\"\n\nViewers and critics had a good time, too. When it aired that December, _A Muppet Family Christmas_ was warmly received by reviewers and easily won its time slot. The Muppets, who hadn't appeared in an entirely new production since 1984's _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ , were back in the news again\u2014and as Jim cheerfully made the rounds with the press, he seemed genuinely stunned to find his characters were not just enjoyed, but \"cherished\"\u2014and moving with a seeming life of their own toward an iconic status. \"There's a nice, naive quality to this family of characters,\" Jim explained helpfully, speaking so softly that one reporter's voice-activated tape recorder kept shutting off. \"I think people relate to their childlike quality, because everybody has that in themselves.\"\n\nTo the delight of the press, Jim also announced that he was at work on another Muppet movie, which he hoped to start shooting in early 1989. For much of the year, he had been mulling over various proposals and brainstorming with Juhl and other Muppet writers. Some ideas sparked his interest\u2014for a while, he seriously considered \"taking them [the Muppets] on an archeological adventure to discover their roots\"\u2014while others were dismissed outright, including a suggestion that Miss Piggy might get pregnant. Jim had blanched at that one, calling it a little too \"specific and explicit.\" But Jerry Juhl had recently handed in a movie treatment that Jim _loved_ \u2014and which had been inspired, in part, by a private conversation in which Oz had groused to Jim and Juhl about the growing costs of projects at Henson Associates. If they were going to make another Muppet film, Oz said testily, they would have to \"figure out a way to do a really low-budget kind of thing.\" That was all Juhl needed. Hunching over his Macintosh computer in his home office in California, he quickly pounded out a treatment for a film called _The Cheapest Muppet Movie Ever Made_.\n\nIn Juhl's first treatment, Kermit allows Gonzo to write and direct a bad adventure movie called _Into the Jaws of the Demons of Death\u2014_ with \"this cheesy, terrible plot,\" as Juhl put it, \"that made absolutely no sense whatsoever, about something being stolen that led to a chase around the world.\" In his enthusiasm, Gonzo spends his entire budget on an impressive opening credits sequence, then has no money left for the rest of the film. As the movie proceeds, the film quality gets worse and worse, eventually eroding into black-and-white Super 8 film, then a slide show, and finally just storyboards\u2014until Gonzo sells out to corporate sponsors and finishes the movie in a beautiful, high-definition, widescreen format.\n\nJim was delighted with the treatment, and put Juhl to work writing a full script, which he turned in as Jim was wrapping up _A Muppet Family Christmas_ in Ontario. Jim, Juhl, and Oz passed the script back and forth, and even Oz\u2014always prickly about the treatment of the characters\u2014thought it was an exciting project. \"It's going to be the kind of movie the audience wants the Muppets to do,\" he told Jim. \"Just a little crazy and a whole lot of fun.\" As it was written, _The Cheapest Muppet Movie Ever Made_ actually wouldn't be cheap to make\u2014Juhl's script called for erupting volcanoes and exploding islands, and for Meryl Streep to play Miss Piggy's stand-in\u2014but the idea was funny and Jim thought he could manage things on a budget of $8 million. He and Juhl would keep playing with it.\n\nThat autumn, Jim fl ew to Los Angeles to make an appearance with Kermit on a Dolly Parton television special on October 21\u2014but more important, he would be meeting the next day with Tartikoff and NBC executives to make the pitch for _The Jim Henson Hour_. Besides the pitch reel, Jim brought with him a densely written proposal\u2014unlike many of his proposals, this one had no illustrations\u2014behind a cover with a sharply designed JIM HENSON HOUR logo, featuring Jim's signature prominently tilted across the page in bright Kermit green. Jim leapt into his pitch with gusto, touting _The Jim Henson Hour_ as \"a rich and mysterious, wonderfully imaginative hour... for the whole family to enjoy,\" and which put \"the best of everything\" he did in one complete package. The executives listened intently, and Tartikoff promised to get back to Jim soon.\n\nWhat Jim was hoping he had conveyed to the network, perhaps more than anything else, was just how much he still loved and believed in television. While he had branched out into movies over the last decade, television was still his artistic and creative oasis. It was the medium he knew and understood the best\u2014and it was a medium he still thought could do much for the common good. \"We should be creating a kind of basis for TV which will be good for us and for kids,\" Jim said. \"There's too much negative thinking in the world. Why don't we try dealing with the happier side instead?\"\n\nHe would expand on those views a month later in front of a large and enthusiastic crowd gathered in Los Angeles to honor him as an inductee to the Television Hall of Fame. Jim had \"mixed feelings\" about being singled out for the award, which honored \"persons who have made outstanding contributions in the arts, sciences or management of television.\" \"I like working collaboratively with people,\" he once said. \"I have a terrific group of people who work with me, and think of the work that we do as 'our' work.\" Nonetheless, he knew the award was \"certainly an honor\"\u2014plus he was being recognized alongside several performers he admired, including Johnny Carson, Bob Hope, and the late Ernie Kovacs. Jim gamely accepted his Hall of Fame award on November 15, but his speech that evening said much about how he regarded his work, his colleagues, and his responsibilities to the common good:\n\nAll the work that I do in television is very much a group effort. It's a lot of us that do this. It's these talented people that make it possible for me to do the things that give me the credit for doing a lot of good stuff on television, and I would really like to thank those people. Television is already one of the most powerful influences on our culture, but because it is so powerful, there's a great deal of responsibility that goes with that. And I think those of us that make programs, particularly for children, have to be aware of what we're putting out there. I think this is what is fun for me, and why I am very grateful for this very special honor... it makes my work\u2014or rather my _fun_ \u2014so gratifying.\n\nFinally, in the third week of December 1987 came the news Jim had been waiting for: NBC had agreed to produce a half season of weekly episodes of _The Jim Henson Hour_ , to begin airing in January 1989, a little over a year away. \"It's very exciting,\" wrote Jim in a memo to the entire Henson Associates staff, \"but a bit scary because there is so much to do.\" Beneath the enthusiasm, however, was a slight annoyance: as a condition of its approval, NBC had insisted on major changes to the show's format. While Tartikoff had told Jim from the outset that he could rotate among the four themed hours one after another, just as Jim had proposed, NBC executives had pushed back against that approach. Instead of a comprehensive, themed hour, the network insisted on two fifteen-minute sections for the first half hour\u2014made up of Muppet moments, short _Lead-Free TV_ bits, or other skits\u2014while the second half hour would be one long piece, such as an installment of _The Storyteller_ or another original feature.\n\nThere were still some visible remnants of the original proposal; once a month, Jim could produce an hour-long special, such as a _Storyteller_ or one of his \"Next Wave\" projects, like the _Sesame Street_ twentieth-anniversary show he was still hoping to produce, or a proposed hour-long musical special featuring the Electric Mayhem in Mexico. For the most part, however, NBC had taken the unique ingredients Jim had provided in his original proposal and asked him to blend them together into a garbled chop suey. Jim tried to put the best face on it, eventually explaining publicly that it had been a mutual decision. \"We were working on _Storyteller_ and coming up with a concept for a very electronic variety show,\" Jim told the _Austin American-Statesman_ later. \"And we also had a series of specials we were putting together. So, we came to NBC with this concept of putting all these things into one show. We thought it'd be nice to kind of pull it all together.\" Nothing about that statement was necessarily untrue, but it didn't accurately reflect Jim's more cohesive starting point.\n\nStill, it wasn't like Jim to complain; he was pleased to at last have a spot secured in the NBC lineup, and for now that was enough. Now he had a year to \"pull it all together.\" Doing so, however, would prove tougher to do than Jim had ever imagined.\n\n# **CHAPTER FOURTEEN**\n\n#\n\n# A KIND OF CRAZINESS  \n1987\u20131989\n\n_Jim and the Muppet cast of the ill-fated_ Jim Henson Hour _(1989). \"Most things didn't work on that show,\" said Jerry Juhl. \"It was a huge frustration and a great sadness.\"_ (photo credit 14.1)\n\nAS 1988 BEGAN, JIM PUT HIS WRITERS TO WORK BRAINSTORMING AND writing short pieces to fill the first half hour of the newly reformatted _Jim Henson Hour_. \"[I was] in a meeting with NBC yesterday,\" Jim told his team in late January, \"[and] they seemed to be quite happy with the direction this is all going.\" At the moment, however, even Jim wasn't quite sure what direction that might be. Jim still believed the _Lead-Free TV_ concept was an ideal format for satirizing cable television, but the writing remained a problem\u2014he had already rejected a similar concept called _Pirate TV_ for being too \"nasty.\" He also insisted that the Muppet segments be somewhat educational, and proposed skits in which the Muppets somehow explained the federal debt, the ozone, or the legislative process.\n\nComing up with features for the second half hour was a bit easier, and a lot more fun. Besides _The Storyteller_ , Jim was thinking about an origin storytelling of the discovery of Fraggle Rock called _The Saga of Fraggle Rock_. There was also _Inside John_ , another variation on Jim's Limbo concept, in which the various parts of a seventeen-year-old boy's brain try to wrest control of him throughout a typical day. And then there were proposed stories of enchanted bowling balls, extraterrestrial mailmen, and adaptations of Madeleine L'Engle's science fiction novel _A Wrinkle in Time_ or the works of A. A. Milne, as well as an ambitious outline for a show called _ASTRO G.N.E.W.T.S_. that blended puppets with animation, computer graphics, and video effects. All would be false starts, but ideas, as always, were never a problem.\n\nAnd then there was the question of the \"home base\" for the series, the room or set from which Jim would host the show. Figuring out where a show was located was always a problem for Jim; he had misfired with the vague sets in his two early _Muppet Show_ pilots before finally getting it right on _The Muppet Show_ itself. _The Jim Henson Hour_ 's pitch reel had been set in a _faux_ Muppet workshop\u2014still the best idea\u2014but he wasn't happy with the look or feel of that, either; he wanted something more dynamic and high-tech\u2014and ideally, he wanted something computer-generated.\n\nTypically, even as he struggled to find some sort of structure for _The Jim Henson Hour_ \u2014which, given its current amorphous state, should probably have been his priority\u2014Jim had decided to speed up production on yet another project, a film based on Roald Dahl's 1983 children's book _The Witches_ , which Jim had decided to executive-produce. It was a project he'd had simmering on the back burner, under the watchful eye of Duncan Kenworthy, for more than a year\u2014and it had been a problem almost from day one, due largely to the involvement of the highly irritable, seventy-one-year-old Dahl. Jim and Dahl had gotten off to a bad start, with Henson Associates' and Dahl's lawyers squabbling over the costs of optioning the book for film. \"I don't like this,\" Dahl had sulked to Jim. \"If there is going to be any ill-feeling, I would rather the film was not made.\" Jim had done his best to smooth things over, promising the writer that while there _had_ been some problems with financing, it was \"for very valid reasons, and it shouldn't become personal.\" \"It is one of my favorite projects in a long time,\" Jim assured Dahl, \"and I'm going to try very hard to produce a film which we can all be proud of.\"\n\n_The Witches_ would be another opportunity for Jim to rally the Creature Shop into action\u2014always one of his favorite sandboxes in which to play. To direct, Jim had lined up Nicolas Roeg, the edgy and somewhat unpredictable English director of eclectic films like _The Man Who Fell to Earth_. Jim had initially recruited Roeg as a director for _The Storyteller_ before offering him _The Witches_ \u2014a job Roeg was delighted to accept\u2014but Roeg, too, would eventually become antagonistic, caught between Jim's and Dahl's creative whirlwinds and grousing about executive interference. Dahl was also unimpressed with Roeg. \"I will tell you I was devastated when I learned you were not directing it yourself,\" Dahl wrote to Jim.\n\nPricklier than Dahl or Roeg, however, were the witches themselves. Wiccans across the country\u2014already smarting over Dahl's book for what they considered its negative portrayal of witches\u2014admonished Jim in a letter-writing campaign when they learned he was adapting the book for the big screen. Jim tried to appease their concerns, but only got caught up arguing semantics over the terms \"black magic\" or \"evil witch\" with the head of the Witches' League for Public Awareness, based in Salem, Massachusetts. Finally, Jim simply pleaded for patience. \"While I am not an advocate of any one religion, I feel close to many of the concepts of the Wicca way of thinking,\" he wrote, \"and for these reasons, I will try not to do anything that will harm any of you.\"\n\nBy late January, Jim had an agreement for _The Witches_ in place with Lorimar, where Bernie Brillstein had recently been installed as CEO of the film division, and in early February had dinner with Anjelica Huston and secured her as his leading lady\u2014a decision, for once, that Dahl was happy with. He would not stay happy for long.\n\nAt the same time, Jim had his own unhappy news to deal with: _The Storyteller_ was doomed. After three installments, the show remained a critical darling, but a ratings disaster\u2014and NBC's confidence in the show was rapidly eroding. After some discussion with the network, Jim decided to hold on to the two unaired episodes of the series, and scrapped plans to expand _The Storyteller_ into one-hour installments. \"NBC is worried about the appeal of the show,\" Jim wrote in a memo to the entire Henson Associates staff. \"I am not worried about this, but I don't mind dropping the [planned one-hour episodes] at this point. We'll do something else instead.\" Despite the best face, he was more disappointed than he let on. \"I think they're the best television shows ever made,\" he confided to _The Washington Post_.\n\nWhile he understood NBC's impatience\u2014gone were the days when a series like _The Muppet Show_ could be given breathing room to find its way\u2014he was certain there was still a place for television shows that took their time and rewarded patient viewers with high production values and top-notch storytelling. Jim, in fact, was among the first to realize that cable television\u2014with its niche channels and willing, paying audience\u2014was an ideal market for original, made-for-cable films. \"When the cable is hooked up to enough homes,\" mused Jim, \"then we'll be able to make films just for the video and the cable market. Certainly, that will come.\" But, he hastened to add, without high-definition picture quality and the capability to show films in a widescreen format, it was still \"so much more interesting\" to work on feature films. Once again, Jim had seen the potential in a new technology, even if the technology itself hadn't yet caught up with his plans for it.\n\nEven with NBC's lack of faith, Jim still had enough confidence in _The Storyteller_ to put into production the remaining four episodes NBC had approved, with the intention of marketing them internationally and using them for _The Jim Henson Hour_. In late February, he went back to Elstree to spend a week directing an installment of _The Storyteller_ called \"The Heartless Giant,\" a bittersweet story of friendship\u2014and betrayal\u2014in which a young prince frees an imprisoned, heartless giant, then becomes his servant to help him find his missing heart. \"I love working on this show,\" Jim told his staff\u2014and he also loved the underlying morality of the old folktales, which fell directly in line with his own views of the common good. \"In broad strokes,\" explained Jim, \"the message I try to bring across is the positives of life and a positive attitude toward the goodness of mankind.\"\n\nAfter completing his episode of _The Storyteller_ , Jim headed for France to meet with Jerry Juhl and Larry Mirkin and have a frank conversation about _The Jim Henson Hour_ \u2014and to spend a few days with Mary Ann at the swank L'H\u00f4tel in Paris.\n\nThe daytime hours were for work. Juhl and the writing team\u2014mainly Mirkin and Jocelyn Stevenson\u2014were still frustrated by the dilemma NBC had created by insisting on jumbling together all four elements of Jim's initial proposal. Juhl thought he understood what NBC was getting at\u2014\" _The Disney Hour_ [ _sic_ ] consisted of a lot of things Walt Disney thought were worthy of him and his audience [and] that's what this is,\" explained Juhl\u2014but the scattered format remained a problem. Jim was confident they could hold the fragments of the show together by putting Kermit\u2014the reliable eye of the Muppet hurricane\u2014in a television control room, overseeing things much as he had done on _The Muppet Show_. On the technical side, Jim thought hiring a regular director to preside over the look and feel of the series might also give the show a more cohesive structure, and picked through a list of suggestions that included Sam Raimi\u2014whom Lisa Henson was dating at the time\u2014and Brad Bird before finally deciding on former _Muppet Show_ director Peter Harris. Jim pronounced himself \"delighted\" with the involvement of Harris. \"I'm feeling quite good about the show,\" Jim said.\n\nThe rest of the time in Paris was devoted to romping with Mary Ann, goofily posing for pictures for each other, gazing at the scenery (\"Isn't this a _romantic_ view?\" Jim would say dreamily), and frolicking in bed in their exclusive Parisian hotel. Jim loved being giddily in love\u2014and now, in Mary Ann, it seemed he had found a sexual warmth and an intimacy that he had long been missing. Nineteen years Jim's junior, Mary Ann made him feel younger and more vibrant\u2014and some thought Jim had intentionally sought out such reassurance. Turning fifty had been hard for him\u2014and now at fifty-one, he was starting to feel his age. His feet, already aching from the years of standing to perform, had grown increasingly stiff and sore\u2014finding the most comfortable shoe had lately become something of a Grail-type quest. His teeth also bothered him constantly, and, more upsetting, he'd developed a slight tremor in his hands\u2014an affliction that had also plagued his father, but which was particularly worrisome for a puppeteer.\n\nMary Ann, then, was just the kind of willing partner he wanted and needed in his adventures, both inside the bedroom and beyond. Mary Ann dove eagerly into Jim's noisy exploits right along with him, whether it was swimming, yachting, horseback riding, or taking the kind of long hikes Jim loved. For her part, Mary Ann would later take him to his first nude beach in Palm Beach\u2014an experience, she said, that made Jim almost giddy with joy\u2014indulge his tastes for caviar and _kir_ , or tease him gently about his hair, encouraging him to brush it back from his forehead or wear it in a tight ponytail.\n\n\"I think he was very much in love,\" said Richard Hunt. \"Jim was a romancer.... It wasn't just some fling.\" Heather Henson\u2014who perhaps more than any of the Henson children had observed firsthand her parents' relationship and Jim's dating habits\u2014thought Mary Ann was good for her father as well. \"I was really quite fond of her,\" said Heather. \"By the time Mary Ann came around, I was actually happy to have him seeing someone stable.\" It was Jim's first real relationship since his legal separation from Jane, and while he had always enjoyed the company and the aesthetics of beautiful women, he was now in a committed relationship with one... or at least as committed as Jim could be. \"I don't think he ever wanted to marry anybody else,\" said Brian Henson. \"Besides,\" he added, \"if you're not divorced from your last wife, you can never get married again.\"\n\nMary Ann wasn't bothered by Jim's lack of interest in marriage, but she _was_ annoyed by his desire to keep their relationship from becoming public. Despite admitting to the press that he and Jane were separated, Jim was still reluctant to have his relationship with Mary Ann out in the open. While Jim loved taking Mary Ann on exotic vacations\u2014boat cruises in Italy, glamorous hotels in Paris, romantic sprints to England\u2014she soon came to realize that Jim was deliberately keeping her out of sight. Whether Jim liked it or not, his efforts made little difference; Henson Associates was already a hotbed of gossip about her\u2014and it didn't help that in the past year Mary Ann had been promoted into production, a move that led to some snickering and hard feelings about the cause of her ascent within the company. \"I found Mary Ann kind of calculating,\" said one longtime Henson employee, while another thought \"she was an aggressive person, out for herself.\"\n\nThe gossip alone might have been bearable, but by refusing to carry out an open relationship, Jim was hedging his bets\u2014as if by not admitting he was with Mary Ann, he was free to discreetly play the field. To some extent that was true; after he escorted the willowy actress Daryl Hannah to one of his opulent masked balls\u2014where the two of them dressed as Beauty and the Beast\u2014gossip columnists had assumed they were linked romantically. There was actually nothing romantic there\u2014Jim had gotten to know Hannah and her sister Page, and considered them friends\u2014but he had no intention of correcting such a misperception, telling his publicist that \"it's great for my reputation!\" It was all more than Mary Ann could stomach\u2014and that summer, she angrily left Jim, and the company, to move back to her hometown in Florida.\n\nFor one of the few times in his life, Jim responded to and fully engaged in a conflict\u2014something he had always been loath to do, whether it was with Jane or with Henson Associates attorneys. \"It was hard on him,\" said Richard Hunt, \"but it was also good for him.\" Against the counsel of David Lazer, Jim wrote Mary Ann long, apologetic letters, trying to explain himself. He warned that he still considered their relationship to be no one's business, but promised he would no longer write or call and would let their separation remain permanent if she so chose. Perhaps to his surprise, baring his soul\u2014engaging in the conflict\u2014had an effect: he and Mary Ann reconciled, and now that she was no longer an employee of the company, or living in New York, Jim was less reticent about being seen openly with her. While the crisis had been averted, Jim and Mary Ann's relationship would continue to wind its way through smoldering hot peaks and frigid valleys over the next two years.\n\nIn April 1988, Jim headed for Norway to oversee production on _The Witches_ , ready to go before the cameras despite being bogged down by budget problems and creative spats. Like _Labyrinth_ , the script for _The Witches_ \u2014by director Nic Roeg's frequent collaborator, Allan Scott\u2014had been tinkered with and revised until the very last moment, with Jim still passing notes to producer Mark Shivas (mainly about use of words like \"bitchy\" and \"pooper scooper\") in the weeks leading up to the April 12 filming date. The larger problems, however, were still with Roald Dahl, whose griping and threats about the script would continue well up until the film's release.\n\nEarly on, Dahl had complained to Duncan Kenworthy that he was not being kept sufficiently in the loop about the development of Scott's script. \"I do think it would be courteous if you kept me informed,\" Dahl wrote Kenworthy. \"You would surely rather have me on your side than against you.\" Thus rebuked, Kenworthy shipped off a copy of the script to Dahl, who immediately wrote back with his comments\u2014mostly unhelpful remarks like \"AWFUL\" and \"STUPID AND USELESS\"\u2014and insisted, in black ink scrawled across the bottom of the page, that someone \"PL[EASE] SHOW TO JIM H.\"\n\nJim, who was at that time swamped with work on _The Witches_ and _The Jim Henson Hour_ , unintentionally\u2014and unwisely\u2014left Dahl to stew. He was much more engaged with what was going on in the Creature Shop, where designers were working not only on craggy witches, but on one of their toughest assignments yet: lifelike mice. As the central plot of _The Witches_ involved turning children\u2014including the main character\u2014into mice, it was critical that the Creature Shop figure out how to design a mouse that could act. The solution was to build mice in three different scales: one a remote-controlled mouse built close to actual size, which couldn't do much more than scurry; another three times larger, crammed with enough mechanics to give it lifelike movements in long shots; and finally, one about the size of a small hand puppet, with fully functional legs, ears, whiskers, mouth, and face that could be performed in close-ups. Jim loved working with his \"Mouse Unit,\" even as they struggled to get the fur looking just right at each of the different sizes. \"Things have been a little bumpy,\" he admitted.\n\nThings would get even bumpier as filming went on, thanks mainly to the dyspeptic Dahl, who hit the ceiling when he learned that the script being filmed had tampered with the ending of his original story. In Dahl's book, the young hero remains a mouse, happy in the knowledge that, as a mouse, he will likely die in less than ten years. Scott, however, had written a more upbeat ending in which the main character was changed back to normal by a sorceress\u2014and Dahl was apoplectic. Frustrated by Jim's lack of response to his earlier letters, Dahl fired off a missive to Roeg instead, complaining that such an ending was \"OBVIOUS. It is also TRITE.\" In his original story, explained Dahl, \"the boy is happy as a mouse. He tells us so.\" Dahl further admonished Roeg for \"tampering with a very successful plot.... I may not know as much about making films as you, but I know a hell of a lot about plot and about how to end a story.... Your ending is wrong.\" Dahl was informed that Jim had asked for _both_ versions of the ending to be filmed, so he might determine which one worked better in the context of the film\u2014a stipulation that only made Dahl angrier.\n\n_The Witches_ was quickly becoming a nightmare. Dahl was incensed, Roeg felt compromised, and Jim was caught in the middle, trying hard to respect and manage the artistic views of both the writer of the source material and his film's director. The budget continued to be a problem, too, though Jim had managed to convince Warner Brothers\u2014which was in the process of acquiring Lorimar\u2014to take a more active role in the film's production. \"It is essential that they are enthusiastic about it,\" Jim wrote in an internal memo, and noted only half jokingly that it helped having his oldest daughter working as an executive at Warner Brothers.\n\nAll of those problems with _The Witches_ would screech to a sudden insignificance on an evening in late April, when twenty-three-year-old John Henson, driving at a speed of nearly one hundred miles per hour, flipped his Toyota truck on the Bruckner Expressway in the Bronx. John was thrown out the driver's window, bounced over a concrete median\u2014tearing muscles and badly injuring his legs in the process\u2014and landed on his back in oncoming traffic. Jim, who had been in London editing _The Storyteller_ with David Lazer when he learned of the accident, shakily booked the first available flight to New York. The trip seemed to take an eternity, and Jim was visibly distraught. \"David, I don't know what I would do if something happened to one of my kids,\" he confessed during the flight. \"I would have to go first.\" Lazer, who had watched Jim with his children since the mid-1960s, understood Jim's anguish. \"He gave the kids undivided love,\" Lazer said later. \"He was crazy about them\u2014each one individually.... They must have felt it.\" For John Henson\u2014who would recover from his injuries\u2014there was never any doubt. \"I just felt that he was an amazing dad,\" said John later. \"Whether he was physically there or not, I felt like he was _always_ there.\"\n\nLately, too, it seemed he was always in the offices at One Seventeen, presiding over personnel compensation committees, strategic planning sessions, and attending one budget presentation after another. For the most part, the company was on secure ground, with money coming in from multiple sources. Since buying back _The Muppet Show_ from Holmes \u00e0 Court, Jim had negotiated a deal with Ted Turner to show both _The Muppet Show_ and _Fraggle Rock_ exclusively on his WTBS and TNT cable channels for four years\u2014an agreement that netted Henson Associates more than $20 million\u2014and he was still hoping to develop the lofty _Muppet Voyager_ concept with Turner's backing as well. Merchandising from _Sesame Street_ was always reliable, as was revenue from almost any _Muppet Babies\u2013_ related product. A series of direct-to-video Muppet projects also continued to roll out at a steady pace, including the popular Play-A-Long series in which young viewers were encouraged to sing, tell jokes, or draw with the help of the Muppets (one video showed Jim teaching viewers how to skip stones on a lake in Central Park\u2014a skill he was grinningly proud of, as he could skip a stone a long way). Finally, there was a series of videos in the works based on tales from Mother Goose, helmed by twenty-five-year-old Brian Henson, making his directorial debut for Henson Associates.\n\nMore discouraging, however, were the reports from the countless \"management consultants\" who had been hired to look at the structure of the organization. \"I think we are going to see some real positive changes in the way I\u2014and we\u2014run the company,\" Jim optimistically told his staff. He knew his own weaknesses as a manager and administrator. \"I tend to avoid confrontation and I tend to push and see only the good aspects of a particular thing,\" Jim said later. \"I'm a very human person.\" He gamely continued to hold teambuilding events, regular company meetings, and staff retreats, but the management structure seemed irreparably broken. While the air of collegiality he instilled on a movie or television set might produce wonderful results on the screen, as a business practice it tended to leave holes in the chain of command. Decisions couldn't be made, because no one wanted to be in charge. As a result, more and more decisions would get pushed up to Jim, who would simply delegate them back down the line to management.\n\nNo project would be more emblematic of Henson Associates' broken decision-making process than _The Jim Henson Hour_ , which Jim was preparing to put before the cameras at the end of July. For perhaps the first time, the disarray had crept into a creative project. \"It was frustrating because we just didn't have the time and we were trying to do a lot,\" said writer Larry Mirkin. \"We were very stretched just in terms of trying to be on top of everything.\" Mirkin and Jerry Juhl were still struggling with the scripts, trying to find an internal structure for the show, but \"it was _so_ difficult,\" said Juhl. \"Jim had so many ideas... so many things he wanted to do. He was given the opportunity of doing this show and he wasn't content with doing one show. He wanted to do _more_ than one television series.\" Despite Juhl's misgivings, Jim was confident the show would work. He was certain of it.\n\nMoney, it seemed, was no object. The computer-generated opening credits\u2014a beautiful opening shot of a gryphon contemplating a crystal ball, followed by a sequence with Muppets, boats, books, and fish swirling in a computer-generated maelstrom\u2014cost nearly half a million dollars to produce, an enormous amount that exceeded the total budget of many half-hour television shows at the time. It had also eaten up a great deal of time to put together and edit. \"This is great,\" Mirkin conveyed to Jim after watching the credits, \"but I'm worried about the remaining twenty-two minutes.\" Jim merely shrugged and grinned. \"Look,\" he told Mirkin happily, \"nobody's ever done this before.\" For Jim, that was almost always enough.\n\nWhile Jim had filmed the pitch reel for _The Jim Henson Hour_ with himself as the host, he was skeptical about appearing on camera for the show itself. \"I always prefer to be slightly behind camera,\" he said. He hoped Kermit would serve as the host for the series, providing continuity between skits and sequences. But Brandon Tartikoff wanted Jim out in front\u2014the series had his name on it, after all, and his presence would give the series a consistency. \"It seemed the logical thing for this type of show,\" Jim conceded later\u2014and in mid-July, at the urging of publicist Arthur Novell, Jim was put in the hands of a voice coach and a professional hairstylist. His hair, now a silvery gray, was blown dry and swept back, his beard neatly trimmed along the curve of his jawline. He would have to learn to speak louder, and to keep his hands away from his face, where he was used to curling his long fingers around his mouth as he spoke.\n\nMore problematic, he also had to learn to stand comfortably, without folding his arms or fidgeting. Peering at Jim through the lens of the camera, director Peter Harris thought he looked \"stiff\" and asked that he be given someone or something to interact with. For no other reason \"except [that it] was kind of wonderful,\" the Thought Lion\u2014a beautiful, enormous, fully functional, white animatronic lion, which had been sitting in the corner of the Creature Shop since its use in an episode of _The Storyteller_ \u2014was brought in to serve as Jim's mostly silent sidekick. \"There was no reason for it at all\" except for \"innocence and optimism,\" said Juhl, but it gave Jim something to talk to\u2014without folding his arms\u2014and he liked it.\n\nOver six days in late July and early August, Jim taped a rough cut of the pilot episode of _The Jim Henson Hour_ , shooting several segments with vocalist Bobby McFerrin\u2014whose international break-out hit \"Don't Worry, Be Happy\" was still several months from release\u2014as well as a number of short Muppet sketches. For nearly a month, he would cut and edit the various pieces together before finally shipping it off for Tartikoff to look at. Even then, Jim still wasn't entirely happy, and pleaded with Tartikoff to view it as \"a work in progress.\" He knew it still seemed randomly pieced together, a problem he thought could be solved by \"establish[ing] a type of theme for each half hour.\" And while he made clear that the writers and performers were \"still getting a sense of the characters and how they should interact,\" he also admitted that several characters and sketches hadn't worked at all, and would be cut from the final show. (Frank Oz, who often seemed to develop characters at will, was still pursuing a directing career and was increasingly unavailable.) Ultimately, Jim told Tartikoff, \"whenever possible, _The Jim Henson Hour_ should be breaking new ground.\" He would continue to recut it, even as he continued filming new episodes in late September and early October.\n\nAt the same time, Jim had in production a number of specials he was hoping could be incorporated into the second half of _The Jim Henson Hour_. The most important was a celebration of _Sesame Street_ , which would be marking its twentieth anniversary in 1989. Jim had been trying for years to produce a _Sesame Street_ special\u2014a decade earlier, he had unsuccessfully proposed a behind-the-scenes documentary\u2014but now, with Joan Cooney's approval, he finally had a one-hour retrospective under way. For Jim, working on the special was a pleasant reminder not only of _Sesame Street_ 's growing and lasting impact, but it also gave him an opportunity to reflect on the show that had made the Muppets a household word. Every six months or so, Jim and the Muppet performers still regularly made time\u2014usually about a week each year\u2014to perform their inserts for _Sesame Street_. And they still loved it. \"[It's] still so much fun to do,\" he told Cooney. \"The show, from the beginning, was a good idea. It's been a delightful thing to be a part of for all these twenty years... and I think it will be around in another twenty years. I'll be sitting in my rocking chair, and I'll still be doing Ernie.\"\n\nHe was having just as much fun working and performing on another special, a \"Damon Runyon with dogs\" film noir parody called _Dog City_ , which had been in development for over a year. With expressive Muppet dogs inspired in part by C. M. Coolidge's painting _Dogs Playing Poker_ , and elaborate, detailed sets, _Dog City_ had some of the highest production values of any Muppet production\u2014\"I just love it,\" said Jim. So much, in fact, that he took his time directing it, lingering on the Toronto set for more than eighteen days\u2014about twice as long as usual\u2014bumping several other production companies who were waiting for studio time. Whether he was performing _Dog City_ 's main villain, or staging elaborate puppet car chases, gun-fights, and billiard games, Jim just didn't want the fun to stop. \"He was just having such a wonderful time,\" said Juhl. \"It was the kind of puppetry stuff that nobody had ever done before, and Jim did it.\"\n\nJim spent late 1988 reviewing the first rough edits of _The Witches_ , screening it with test audiences in London and Los Angeles, and making careful notes for director Nic Roeg on where he could trim down scenes Jim thought were too frightening. Jim still hadn't decided on the ending, however, merely noting in his journal that the film \"need[ed] work\"\u2014Dahl would have to wait. He also visited with Industrial Light and Magic, George Lucas's groundbreaking special effects company, to discuss special effects for _The Cheapest Muppet Movie Ever Made_ , which he was determined to put into production in 1989. Meanwhile, he was continuing to stitch together a number of installments of _The Jim Henson Hour_ , and sent another episode to Tartikoff for review over the Christmas holidays. The new shows, thought Jim, were \"looking good,\" and Tartikoff seemed pleased\u2014yet Jim couldn't get a commitment from NBC on when the series would premiere. Initially, the network had told Jim to prepare for a January 1989 start, but had then delayed the series until March, and then finally decided on April.\n\nIt was frustrating, but \"given the extra time,\" Jim said later, \"we took it\"\u2014and spent much of it in a computer lab at Pacific Data Images (PDI) in San Francisco. Jim was still fascinated with the possibilities of computer animation; in the mid-1980s, he had tried to develop a television special on computers with Chris Cerf, and had explored the possibilities of creating a computer-generated Kermit. For several years, then, Jim had been studying ways to develop a kind of virtual puppet, a computer-generated figure that could be manipulated by a performer in real time and interact with live actors and puppets. Now the technology had finally caught up with the idea\u2014and with the help of PDI, Jim had set up a system wherein a waldo, which usually remotely controlled an animatronic figure, was wired instead into a computer to control a low-resolution computer-generated image.\n\nFor _The Jim Henson Hour_ , the technology was used in the creation of a vaguely birdlike, bouncing, hovering shape-shifting CGI Muppet called Waldo C. Graphic, which Jim put in the hands of veteran performer Steve Whitmire. The computer image of Waldo would be overlaid on video images of other live performers\u2014and Whitmire, working in the traditional Muppet style, could watch the low-resolution Waldo move on-screen as he performed, talking and interacting virtually with other performers. Once the low-resolution image was recorded, it would be sent to PDI where the character would be rendered in high resolution; once complete, the final version would then be matted back into the original scene. A complicated process that \"worked out quite nicely,\" reported Jim.\n\nJim put the technology to work in the background, too. In early February 1989, he began shooting an environmentally themed special initially titled _Snake Samba_ (Jim would rename it _Milton's Paradise Lost_ before finally settling on _Song of the Cloud Forest_ ) about an endangered golden frog searching for a mate in the rain forest. Jim wanted the backgrounds to look like primitive South American art, almost abstract, with intensely bright colors. Using the state-of-the-art PaintBox graphics program, Jim turned drawings and designs by Cheryl into fully realized virtual backgrounds. It took several tests before he was happy with it, but Jim loved playing with the technology. \"It's so incredible,\" he enthused. \"I love the things that you can do with it.\" The only real problem was the cost. \"It's quite expensive, and the tricky thing is to try to get it down to the point where we can afford it on a television budget.\"\n\nTo Jim's dismay, budgets, not backgrounds, would take up more and more of his time in the coming months. In London, the Creature Shop had been hired by Mirage Enterprises to create the title characters for _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ \u2014a live-action adaptation of the successful independent comic and Saturday morning cartoon\u2014and was having an absolute blast. Meanwhile, Jim was stuck in New York attending Henson Associates board meetings, discussing business plans, squinting at new logos, and sitting in on endless rounds of planning meetings and budget review sessions. There were some eye-rolling discoveries as Jim and his business managers scoured their ledgers; one executive had been taking regular trips to France with his wife on the company's dime, while an art director was paying for expensive monthly haircuts with his corporate credit card (\"Maybe if it was a _better_ haircut,\" Jim offered wryly). \"I think we are getting a handle on the status of the company, and it's coming together nicely,\" he wrote to staff with forced enthusiasm. \"I really appreciate the way everyone is pitching in to help.\" He even sat through his own appraisal process, \"a very healthy exercise,\" he assured his employees.\n\nEven _The Witches_ had become more bogged down than usual in personalities and drama. \"It hasn't been an easy film,\" said Jim with a sigh, who now found himself \"a bit in the middle\" of a spat between Nic Roeg and Warner Brothers over edits in the film. Jim had finally settled on the more conventional ending, in which the young hero is changed from a mouse back to a human, and now he and Roeg were putting together a final cut to be delivered to Warner Brothers. Then, of course, Dahl was certain to check in with his response to the film\u2014and Duncan Kenworthy was already bracing for the explosion.\n\nOn Friday, April 14, the first episode of _The Jim Henson Hour_ finally made its debut on NBC. Jim was disappointed in the time slot he'd been given; he wanted the Sunday evening spot that had traditionally been occupied by various iterations of Walt Disney's one-hour show. While _The Jim Henson Hour_ had no real competition in the lineup\u2014it was opposite the sci-fi love story _Beauty and the Beast_ on CBS and the sitcom block _Perfect Strangers_ and _Full House_ over on ABC\u2014Friday night was traditionally a dead zone, especially for family-themed fare. \"They put us in a time slot that they [NBC] had been consistently not doing very well in,\" Jim said later. It was not an encouraging start.\n\nAs he had promised Tartikoff, Jim was now structuring the first half hour of each show around a specific theme; for the premiere, it was science fiction, with comedian Louie Anderson appearing in sci-fi parodies like \"My Dinner with Codzilla\" or \"Space Guy.\" Throughout, Jim tried to hold everything together by interspersing \"MuppeTelevision\" sequences\u2014a high-tech version of _The Muppet Show_ (and the last remaining vestiges of the _Inner Tube\/Lead-Free TV_ concept) featuring Kermit in a control room crammed with television monitors where he \"has to pick and choose the stuff he thinks we'll enjoy.\" One had to wonder about the frog's decisions; most sketches fell flat. For the second half hour, however, Jim was on sturdier footing, filling the thirty minutes with \"The Heartless Giant,\" the episode of _The Storyteller_ he had directed more than a year ago. When that finished, Jim came back on camera to cheerfully wrap things up.\n\nJim knew it wasn't his finest moment. Only hours before the program aired, in fact, Jim had told an audience at the American Film Institute that the \"biggest problem\" with the show was the opening thirty-minute \"variety show\" portion. \"Variety is not easy to do and no one is doing it successfully right now\u2014and we may not either. But variety is a very difficult thing to get a handle on and make it work.\"\n\nUnfortunately, in the minds of most critics, he _hadn't_ made it work. While everyone still loved _The Storyteller_ , most agreed that the rest of _The Jim Henson Hour_ was a disaster. \"Fixing what's wrong... would be simple as microwave pie,\" wrote Tom Shales in _The Washington Post_. \"All NBC has to do is throw out the first half and keep [ _The Storyteller_ ]. A _Jim Henson Half-Hour_ would be plenty.\" Matt Roush, writing in _USA Today_ , was kind enough to concede that the first half hour had been \"different,\" noting that \"such originality, even if flawed, should be encouraged\"\u2014but Shales was having none of it, insisting that the opening thirty minutes was \"sadly frantic drivel.\" Even Jim himself drew critical fire for being \"astonishingly dull\" in his on-screen appearances. \"Henson should sit there,\" sniffed Shales, \"and the lion should talk.\"\n\nThe reviews also made clear that Jim had a new and potentially more devastating problem on his hands: for the first time, the critics were disappointed in the Muppets themselves. Those who tuned in expecting to see the regular cast of _The Muppet Show_ saw only Kermit and briefly Gonzo; the rest were new characters, designed by Frith and Kirk Thatcher and performed largely, though not entirely, by the second generation of Muppet performers. Shales thought the new Muppets were \"ugly\"\u2014but more critically, no one thought the MuppeTelevision segments were very funny or even all that interesting. The Muppet segments\u2014which had always seemed to come to Juhl and the writing team so effortlessly\u2014simply sputtered, dragged down by slow pacing, heavy dialogue, and a distressing desire to be hip. Roush thought the segments resembled \"the lame parts of _Saturday Night Live_ scaled for kids. Judged by Henson's typically high standards, MuppeTelevision is an undeniably creative mess.\" This wasn't _The Dark Crystal_ baffling audiences or _Labyrinth_ landing with a thud; this was a project with Kermit at the center\u2014and for the first time Kermit was flopping.\n\nThere were some kinder reviews\u2014the _Los Angeles Times_ called it \"a bright addition to prime time\"\u2014and Jim was certain that, given time, the show might find its way and begin to right itself. But after only three low-performing weeks in which _The Jim Henson Hour_ failed to make a dent in the ratings, NBC was running out of patience. Lord Grade had given Jim the time he needed to find his way with _The Muppet Show_ in the 1970s\u2014but as Michael Frith pointed out, \"that was then, and this is now. Very few shows are given that luxury.\"\n\nJim built the fourth episode around _Dog City_ , which ended up being little watched but highly acclaimed, and would win him an Emmy for Outstanding Direction the following year. By May 14, for the fifth installment, he finally managed to land the coveted Sunday evening time slot that had traditionally been held by Disney\u2014an episode titled, fittingly enough, \"The Ratings Game.\" It would end up the lowest rated episode of _The Jim Henson Hour_ so far, finishing 72nd of 77 shows for the week. The following week, Tartikoff gently informed Jim that after the network aired the episodes it had ordered, NBC would be canceling the series. \"I'm sorry the Sunday experiment didn't work out,\" Tartikoff told Jim in a handwritten note. \"I am proud of the painstaking care and love and innovations you and your group put into the show. I just wish more people could have seen what we did.\"\n\nJim was \"hurt\" and \"embarrassed\" by the network's decision, recalled Bernie Brillstein. Jim told staff he was \"disappointed\" and called the cancellation \"a major aggravation\"\u2014for him, a strongly worded indictment. \"I don't particularly like the way NBC handled us,\" he wrote in one of his quarterly reports, \"but what the hey, that's network TV.\" Jim still believed the series \"was really coming together nicely.... I'm sure that we would have made it even better in subsequent seasons.\" Larry Mirkin thought so, too. \"We were very ambitious,\" said Mirkin, \"we just didn't have enough time. I think we could have sorted it out but we weren't allowed to do that.\" NBC, however, wasn't even willing to give the remaining episodes a chance, banishing four installments\u2014including the episode featuring _Song of the Cloud Forest_ \u2014to the wilderness of the summer schedule, where they sank to the bottom of the Nielsen ratings. The last two episodes would be pulled from the network's schedule entirely.\n\nJerry Juhl wasn't certain that the show would ever have been salvageable, no matter how much time they might have spent on it. There was \"a kind of craziness about that project that we could never put our finger on,\" Juhl said. One of _The Jim Henson Hour_ 's underlying problems was a familiar one that had plagued Jim since the days of _The Dark Crystal:_ namely that new technology\u2014the visual effects, the virtual backgrounds, the CGI Muppets\u2014had gotten in the way of storytelling or character development. \"He was in love with technology and future-thinking stuff,\" said Henson Associates producer and creative consultant Alex Rockwell, \"and so, when he revisited the Muppets on _The Jim Henson Hour_ , he wanted to bring that sense of futuristic techno-hipness into the show [and] the marriage of those technological visuals and CGI with the Muppets didn't work that well.\" In the case of the CGI character Waldo, even Jim agreed he was \"one of those characters I don't think we ever really got a handle on in terms of how to use him.... He hasn't really gelled as a major contribution to the show except technologically, I suppose.\"\n\nAt the heart of it, however, the real problem with _The Jim Henson Hour_ was that it had a massive identity crisis. \"It was like the show didn't know what it wanted to be,\" said Juhl. \"This was Jim trying to do a whole lot of things at once, and it always puzzled us, and we couldn't talk him out of it.... Most things didn't work on that show. It was a huge frustration and a great sadness.\" Rockwell called it \"a chaotic hour\" that took a physical toll as well. \"It was rigorous to make... because one minute you're shooting the Muppet stuff in Toronto and then you're up in Nova Scotia doing one of those Creature Shop stories,\" said Rockwell. \"It was really exhausting, and Jim's energy got pretty diffused\u2014unlike on _The Muppet Show_ , where it was so focused.\"\n\nOz, too, thought the disarray in the show was reflective of Jim's increasingly divided attention, split between the creative work he enjoyed and the obligations of \"flying around and getting money for the overhead.\" \"Whatever Jim did, even some of the things that failed, there was always amazing stuff in it,\" said Oz. \"But _The Jim Henson Hour_ just didn't have the usual Jim focus. It was more like a grab bag of the brilliant things he's done.\"\n\nRunning the company was slowly sapping his creative energy, making it more difficult for Jim Henson to do the things that made him Jim Henson. _The Jim Henson Hour_ was proof of that. Jim knew the strain was showing, both in the way the company was run and in the on-screen product. \"I know that this period of time has been somewhat filled with a sense of uncertainty and an apparent lack of direction,\" he wrote in a memo to his entire staff, \"but I want to say that we are working and looking at various alternatives, and we should have a resolution in the not too distant future.\"\n\nResolution was closer than he let on; he was already pursuing a course of action that, he hoped, \"releases me from a lot of business problems. As anyone in the business knows, you spend a great deal of your time raising financing, finding distributors and all.\" If everything worked out as planned, he explained, \"I'll be able to spend a lot more of my time on the creative side of things.\" That spring, as he and Rockwell rode in the back of a town car in Toronto, Jim reached for the enormous brick of a cellular telephone he kept under the seat. He had talked with Brillstein and Lazer, he told Rockwell, and they both agreed with his decision. Now he was going to make a phone call to put the plan into motion.\n\nHe was going to sell his company to Disney.\n\n# **CHAPTER FIFTEEN**\n\n#\n\n# SO MUCH ON A HANDSHAKE  \n1989\u20131990\n\n_Agent Bernie Brillstein (left) and producer David Lazer were two of Jim's closest and most trusted colleagues and business advisors. Brillstein, however, was largely sidelined during the Disney negotiations, while Lazer continued to argue that Disney was getting Jim too cheaply_. (photo credit 15.1)\n\nFOR DISNEY CEO MICHAEL EISNER, THE VERY IDEA OF JIM HENSON joining the Walt Disney Company was a match \"made in family entertainment heaven.\" For Jim Henson, it was a lifelong dream come true. \"The first film I saw was _Snow White_ ,\" Jim noted, \"and ever since then, I've had a secret desire to work with this great company.\"\n\nJim may have loved Disney's animated features\u2014\"outside of my own films, these are the only ones I buy for my video library,\" he wrote privately\u2014but he was an even bigger fan of the Disney theme parks. Disneyland and Walt Disney World were, he said, \"two of my favorite places,\" and he had made regular vacations to the two parks for decades, even making a point to visit the newly opened EPCOT center in early 1983, within months of the park's grand opening. Putting himself and the Muppets in the hands of Disney, then, would, in a sense, be like going on an extended vacation\u2014one in which he would be expected to work and create, certainly, but then that was just the kind of vacation Jim liked best.\n\nWhile Jim was working in the spring of 1989 to put his company in the hands of Disney, five years earlier things had very nearly gone the other way. In 1984, Disney had been on the verge of a hostile takeover at the hands of financier Saul Steinberg, who intended to dismember the company and sell its assets. With Disney's stock plunging, Jim had asked Bernie Brillstein to make some discreet inquiries about Jim either stepping in as Disney's new president or buying the company outright. The discussion went nowhere, due largely to bad timing; the Disney ship was in the process of righting itself, and later that year Paramount executives Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg, along with Warner Brothers vice president Frank Wells, were chosen by a new Disney board to steer the company. Jim let the moment pass with no regrets, said Brillstein, \"but a seed was planted about how perfect a Disney\/Henson pairing might be.\"\n\nStill, Jim had a good relationship with Eisner, who had given the go-ahead for the first two _Muppet Show_ pilots while working as an ABC executive in the early 1970s. Shortly before starting work on _Labyrinth_ in late 1984, Jim had called Brillstein and asked the agent to set up a meeting with Eisner, now Disney's CEO, and Katzenberg, the head of production. Jim's projects were getting \"very expensive\" to produce, said Brillstein, and Jim wanted to discuss the possibility of Disney financing and distributing projects for Henson Associates\u2014or, better still, having Disney buy Henson Associates outright. Brillstein called to set up the meeting, enthusiastically telling Eisner, \"I have the best thing in the world for you: Jim Henson.\" Jim and Lazer flew to California for a private dining room at Chasen's restaurant in West Hollywood (\"like a Mafia dinner,\" joked Brillstein). This time, however, finances doomed any agreement. In 1984, the Muppets were entering a post _\u2013Muppets Take Manhattan_ holding pattern\u2014and Jim was still negotiating with Holmes \u00e0 Court to bring the Muppets back home\u2014making their earning potential, in Eisner's assessment, \"very soft.\" \"The Muppets' world renown wasn't enough to carry the deal,\" said a somewhat annoyed Brillstein, \"so Disney passed.\" But Brillstein assured Jim that if he wanted to sell his company to another major studio\u2014and in fact, Disney rival MCA was interested\u2014he could make it happen. But Jim refused; he wanted Disney, or no one.\n\nNow, five years later, Jim had decided to try again\u2014and in early spring 1989 had casually reopened discussions with Eisner. From a purely financial standpoint, Jim's company was on sturdier footing than it had been on that day at Chasen's in 1984. All of his properties were now safely back in his hands. _Muppet Babies\u2013_ and _Fraggle Rock_ \u2013related merchandise was steadily filling the company coffers, Muppet videos were selling well internationally, and _The Muppet Show_ was in regular rotation on cable. The company had come a long way in the last five years, as Jim had expanded the company more broadly beyond television and into motion picture production.\n\nAs a reflection of the company's growing film presence, Jim was in the process of changing the name of the company from Henson Associates to Jim Henson Productions, which made the company sound more like a major film studio than the small, independent organization of around 150 employees it actually was. He had even recently unveiled a new logo, built around his stylized signature (in Kermit green) with a swooping J and dramatically crossed H. Jim called it \"disarmingly simple\"\u2014and perhaps intentionally, it also looked a lot like the logo for the Walt Disney Company, which was centered on Walt's own widely recognized signature.\n\nClad smartly in its new logo, Henson Associates\u2014it wouldn't officially be Jim Henson Productions until November\u2014had become a major player with an international reputation, entirely worthy of Disney's growing company and legacy. But Jim felt he was bringing to Disney more than just a financial asset or a valuable stock option; he was bringing them a creative commodity that they couldn't put a value on\u2014for no matter what the transaction or the logo on the letterhead, Disney wouldn't just be getting the Muppets or Henson Associates or Jim Henson Productions; they'd be getting _Jim Henson_.\n\nAnd Disney could use him. As Jim and Eisner casually chatted that spring, Disney, despite its new administrative stability, was still feeling its way creatively. In early 1989, the seemingly unstoppable string of Disney blockbusters\u2014beginning with the ambitious animated musical feature _The Little Mermaid_ \u2014was still to come; the 1988 hit _Who Framed Roger Rabbit_ was the first real smash for the company in years. But with _The Little Mermaid_ still months away from its November 1989 release\u2014and no certainty for how it would be received by audiences\u2014Disney needed not only reliably bankable characters to add to its slowly expanding character base, it needed a blast of creative energy and talent as well. Jim was their man. \"It was _never_ just selling the Muppets,\" said Frank Oz. \"It was always in conjunction with him being there as the main creative guy, who could help the company. Jim felt he could _be_ Walt Disney.\"\n\nAnd so, Eisner had been not only responsive, but enthusiastic when Jim had called him from the car in Toronto and asked to meet at the Hotel Bel-Air in Los Angeles on May 22. Over breakfast that morning, Jim told Eisner he had made up his mind, and laid out his intention to sell his company to Disney. For Eisner, there was never any doubt that Jim Henson was exactly what the Walt Disney Company needed. \"It's special because you get a guy like Jim, who brings a new creative vitality to the company,\" said Eisner. \"That's really the reason for the whole deal\u2014plus you get the Muppets.\"\n\nAs much as Disney wanted and needed Jim Henson, Jim, too, needed Disney. \"On a personal level,\" wrote Jim, \"I think this move will enable me to free up my life and to focus more time on the creative and conceptual aspects of our work, and less time worrying about the business and financial side of everything.\" It wasn't that Jim wasn't up to the task of running his own company; more than anything, it was a matter of how much of his precious time and energy he wanted to devote solely to business. \"It's not easy on an organization when you're doing a lot of other activities,\" Jim told the American Film Institute. He knew his extended absences had taken a toll on morale in the New York office in particular, where personalities often clashed and jurisdictions overlapped. \"When I went off to do _Labyrinth_... it pulled me away from my core business, which has been in New York, and it became a major draw there on energy,\" he admitted.\n\nDespite Jim's best efforts, the company, said David Lazer, \"was getting unwieldy, and there were personnel problems and all kinds of stuff.\" Brillstein, who had sat in on a few of the endless meetings with Jim and his managers at Henson Associates, had seen firsthand how \"people would go to Jim directly about everything, and he hardly had the time.\" \"He was a very _good_ businessman,\" said producer Larry Mirkin, \"but that isn't what he cared about. He cared about the work, he cared about what it meant in the world, and he cared about making the art grow and develop.\" Going with Disney, then, would be the first step in lifting the administrative yoke of running a company from Jim's shoulders\u2014\"the organizational albatross,\" as Brillstein called it, \"that drained his creative energy.\" And he was getting tired; he had been splitting his time between the creative work that was so much fun and the tedium of running his own company since he was seventeen years old. With Disney's money and machinery behind him, he could finally be creative full-time. \"He was an artist first and foremost,\" said Brillstein appreciatively, \"and he needed to concentrate on his work and come up with magnificent ideas like he always had.\"\n\nDisney would be good for the Muppets as well. If there was any organization that knew how to preserve and promote iconic characters beyond the lifetimes of their respective creators, it was the Walt Disney Company: at the moment, the company was tending not only to the classic Disney characters created during Walt's lifetime, but it was also successfully serving as caretaker to Disneyfied versions of characters from A. A. Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh books. For Jim, finding such a suitable home for the Muppets was important. The failure of the Muppet sequences in _The Jim Henson Hour_ had spooked him\u2014and if he couldn't always tend to their well-being, he wanted to ensure they were with someone else who would. \"Looking way back down the road to when I stop sitting in my rocking chair and working Kermit the Frog, I really like the idea of characters living on in the Disney parks,\" said Jim. \"It's a wonderful future for these characters. It's as close to an eternal life as a little green frog can get.\"\n\nAfter Jim and Eisner finished their breakfast meeting at the Bel-Air, the two men shook hands\u2014always enough for Jim to seal any deal. They had made a gentleman's agreement with each other, and that was enough; the details could come later. \"This was so much on a handshake between Michael and Jim that whatever [the deal said] didn't matter,\" said Brillstein. \"Jim loved Michael and trusted him a lot. And Michael understood Jim. He just really got it.\" That evening, Jim made an appearance on _The Arsenio Hall Show_ , strolling casually onstage to a jazzy version of the _Sesame Street_ theme, and looking not at all like a man who had just put in motion a life-altering business transaction.\n\nTwo days later, Jim met Mary Ann and Brillstein at the La Costa Hotel and Spa to spend several days swimming, enjoying massages, and celebrating. Jim was clearly delighted with his pact with Eisner, giggling happily as he sipped one whiskey sour after another in the hotel lounge. \"[It was] just great,\" said Brillstein. Fully relaxed, Jim returned to New York to meet privately with his attorneys and business managers to begin the process of sharing information with Disney to pave the way for the sale of the company. Jim personally wrote a seven-page letter to Eisner outlining the structure of the company and its various departments (to his own surprise, he discovered during a company inventory that over two thousand Muppets were in storage), while his management team circulated internal memos marked PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL. At the moment, Jim was keeping things as quiet as possible; outside of the Henson family, only a small group of advisors and employees\u2014the \"JHP 'deal team' \"\u2014were aware of Jim's plans for the company.\n\nOutside the company, however, there was one person who Jim insisted had to be made aware of the negotiations: Joan Ganz Cooney. From the very beginning of his discussions with Eisner, said Cooney, \"Jim had been adamant that Disney could _not_ have the _Sesame Street_ Muppets.\" In one of his first letters to the Walt Disney Company, in fact, Jim's manager of strategic planning, Charles Rivkin, expressly warned Disney that not only were the _Sesame Street_ characters off-limits, but so was the shared revenue stream generated by _Sesame Street_ \u2013related merchandise. \"In none of the information previously sent to you are _Sesame Street_ revenues included,\" wrote Rivkin, then underlined the next part emphatically: \"nor is it our intention to include this part of our company in any combination with Disney.\" Jim assured Cooney that he regarded _Sesame Street_ as a \"holy place\" and that he was confident Disney had no intention of asking for it in the negotiations. (Ironically, Disney's internal memos referred to its acquisition of Jim's company as \"Project Big Bird,\" giving the transaction a code name based on a Muppet the company was never going to get.)\n\nEven as lawyers and accountants bustled behind the scenes, creative business continued at One Seventeen. \"In general,\" Jim told his staff, \"things have been pleasantly active over the last few months.\" While _The Jim Henson Hour_ had been pulled from the NBC lineup in May, the network had promised to air the remaining episodes in July, so Jim was putting the final touches on _Song of the Cloud Forest_ as well as on a behind-the-scenes documentary _The Secret of the Muppets_ , each of which would be incorporated into a later _Jim Henson Hour. The Witches_ , too, was finished\u2014\"and looking quite nice,\" Jim added\u2014and was now awaiting a commitment from Warner Brothers on a release date. In the meantime, the Creature Shop's other project, _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ , was filming in North Carolina, with Brian Henson heading up the puppet team. Jim was thrilled with the work, and thought _Turtles_ contained some of their best animatronics yet. \"The lip articulation is the most advanced we've ever had,\" he enthused. \"We're definitely breaking new ground here.\"\n\nThere was new ground to be broken, too, he thought, with a new gadget that he found absolutely fascinating: the handheld minicam. The Handycam, Jim explained enthusiastically, was a marked improvement over the \"enormous, heavy beasts\" normally used in television production\u2014and was so light and easy to use, in fact, that anyone could make a video or a television show. Jim wasn't quite sure what to do with it yet\u2014he and John Henson would create playful short videos together, looking for the right idea\u2014but he was intrigued with the possibilities of putting filmmaking technology into the hands of anyone and everyone. \"We're going to see a whole new and different kind of television,\" Jim said, astutely predicting the democratization of video technology that would make YouTube possible twenty-five years later. As always, Jim had seen the potential in a technology well before the technology could catch up to it.\n\nAfter work, Jim would walk the few blocks from One Seventeen to his apartment at the Sherry-Netherland. More and more now, Mary Ann was making extended trips from West Palm Beach to the city, where they would spend their evenings eating dinners of fish or pasta ordered from the Sherry-Netherland hotel room service\u2014or walking a few blocks to the fashionable China Grill restaurant\u2014before heading out for a movie or a show. Jim was still an avid theatergoer, and living in the city meant he could attend shows regularly, whether it was concerts at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, dances at Lincoln Center, or any of the countless Broadway shows he loved. His tastes in theater were varied and interesting; one night it might be heady fare like Wendy Wasserstein's _The Heidi Chronicles_ , the next a musical like _Anything Goes!_ \u2014though if he had to pick a favorite show, it was probably the musical _Les Mis\u00e9rables_ , which he had seen several times, always tearing up at Jean Valjean's heartfelt solo, \"Bring Him Home.\" Jim truly loved living in the city, though his growing fame was making it more and more difficult for him to move about freely without being swamped by requests for his autograph or badgered by shouted demands to \"Do Kermit!\"\n\nThe first week in July, following two nonstop weeks of back-and-forthing between New York and Los Angeles to meet with Eisner and Katzenberg, Jim left for Hana, Hawaii, with Mary Ann for what he hoped would be a romantic weeklong getaway. Instead, the week was a bust. Uncharacteristically, Jim was moody and brooding\u2014or at least as moody as he could be\u2014fussing about their nineteen-year age difference, which normally never bothered him very much. \"Where are we going with this?\" he would ask, and then would sigh with a sad uncertainty, lamenting that he was too old to settle down and start a family with her. For her to have the kind of life she deserved, he said, he would have to let her go, and she would have to move on. At the end of the week, they agreed to separate.\n\nOnce again, they would not remain apart long\u2014as Richard Hunt had noted, they always seemed to be on again, off again. A little more than a month later, Jim met Mary Ann in New Mexico, where she was now living, to survey a parcel of land he wanted to buy, with the intention of building either a house or perhaps even a small spa and hotel. They were staying in separate casitas at the Rancho Encantado resort, and following their long day of looking at property, Jim dropped by Mary Ann's room with caviar and wine. As they sat on the portal of the casita dining on caviar and watching the sun set over the cottonwoods, Jim turned suddenly to Mary Ann and sank to his knees in front of her, his eyes glistening with tears. \"For whatever we become,\" he said warmly, raising his wineglass to her, \"for the love we will always have for each other, and for the friends we will always be.\" By the end of the evening, they were back together.\n\nDiscussions with Disney continued on through July. While Jim was still trying to keep things quiet, the company was vibrating with internal gossip and rumor. On July 26, 1989, Jim sent a memo to his entire staff begging for patience. \"I know that this past period of time has been a difficult one for everyone,\" he wrote. Apologizing that \"things are not resolving as fast as we thought,\" he vowed to \"let everyone know what's happening as soon as we can.... Thanks for your patience and understanding and, once again, I'm sorry for these last few months of uncertainty.\" Over the next several weeks, he met privately with Joan Cooney and Frank Oz to keep them apprised of the discussions, and made a quick trip to London to update Kenworthy and a few others in the overseas arm of the company. But news was starting to trickle out; \"Disney Said to Be Wooing Henson,\" wrote the Minneapolis _Star Tribune_ in mid-August, while the _Houston Chronicle_ speculated\u2014correctly\u2014that \"Disney May Be Courting Miss Piggy's Company.\" Both companies could only decline to comment; it was time for Jim and Eisner to make their decision official, and then make it public.\n\nOn August 24 at 9:15 A.M.\u2014a sunny Thursday morning\u2014Jim and Disney president Frank Wells, flanked by a small group of staff, boarded a Learjet at JFK Airport, bound for Orlando, Florida. On their arrival at 11:30, they were whisked away in two cars to Disney-MGM Studios, the newest of the three Disney theme parks at the Walt Disney World resort, for a quick meet-and-greet with Disney staff in the park's Animation Building. For the next six hours, Jim and his staff casually toured Disney-MGM and the Magic Kingdom,then were escorted to the opulent, red-gabled Grand Floridian hotel to check into their suites and change clothes for the evening. At seven, Katzenberg met Jim in the hotel lobby and took him back to Disney-MGM to watch the final run-through of an Indiana Jones stunt show that would be opening the following morning. As Jim entered the show's amphitheater, Eisner and Wells came over to greet him, followed by Jim's former collaborator George Lucas, who was serving as executive producer of the stunt show. Jim shook all their hands warmly and looked over the attraction, which resembled the set of an adventure film. Standing next to Lucas, arms crossed as they surveyed the enormous set, the two of them could have been working on _Labyrinth_ again. It truly felt as if he had come home.\n\nJust after dark, Jim and the three Disney chiefs headed for the Portobello Yacht Club, an Italian restaurant in the newly opened Pleasure Island section of the resort. With the other eight spots at their large dinner table occupied by executives and attorneys from the Walt Disney Company and Henson Associates, this would be very much a business dinner. Starting at 9:15, as waiters whirled in plates of pasta and glasses of wine around them, both sides got to work.\n\nDiscussion went on late into the evening; lights went off at the restaurants and shops out on Pleasure Island. Finally, just after midnight, the two companies reached an agreement\u2014legally speaking, an agreement-in-principle\u2014that would permit the Walt Disney Company to acquire Henson Associates and allow Jim to enter into a long-term exclusive production agreement with the Walt Disney Company. At 12:30 A.M.\u2014it was now the morning of Friday, August 25\u2014Jim signed his name on the agreement's final page. Smiling, he said his good nights and retired to his suite at the Grand Floridian. \"Jim Henson's wish, desire, dream was to be with Disney,\" said Brillstein. With Jim's signature, that dream was on the verge of coming true. \"The Disney deal,\" as Jim would always refer to it in his correspondence, was under way.\n\nJim arose early to have breakfast with Bob Mathieson, the executive in charge of the Walt Disney World theme parks, then headed for Disney-MGM for the official dedication of the Indiana Jones Stunt Theatre, avoiding any press who may have questioned him about his presence at Disney. After an early afternoon tour of EPCOT, he was taken to the airport and flown back to New York, arriving home at the Sherry-Netherland apartment on Friday evening. Incredibly, the media had picked up no trace of his trip to Orlando or of the agreement. That was just as he wanted it; he and Eisner intended to announce the deal at a nationally televised press conference to be held at Disney World on Monday morning.\n\nOn the morning of Sunday, August 27, then, he and Cheryl were driven to Teterboro Airport in New Jersey and headed for Orlando aboard one of Disney's sleek Gulfstream 3 corporate jets. Jim spent a long afternoon chatting with Katzenberg in the Disney chairman's Grand Floridian hotel suite, then went to dinner with Cheryl, Eisner, and a few others at the Portobello Yacht Club. The next morning, he was up and out of the Grand Floridian by seven and on his way to meet Eisner at the entrance to the Animation Building at Disney-MGM Studios, where they would announce their agreement live on ABC's _Good Morning America_. Standing with Eisner and walkaround versions of Kermit, Miss Piggy, and Mickey and Minnie Mouse, Jim was visibly excited. As a subtle show of corporate respect, Jim had worn\u2014under his colorful purple-and-blue-striped jacket\u2014a red tie printed with pictures of Mickey Mouse, while Eisner, looking very much in charge in his dark suit, added a blue tie emblazoned with images of Kermit the Frog. \"I think hooking up with Disney creates such a wonderful force,\" Jim enthused, grinning broadly. Eisner thundered excitedly at the crowd, \"Mickey Mouse has a new sibling, and he's going to have to get used to it!\" As flashbulbs exploded, Kermit, Piggy, Mickey, and Minnie all gave an approving thumbs-up.\n\nAway from the television cameras, Jim was more effusive as he explained to the press why he had chosen to sell his company. \"I feel I have reached a certain level with my own company,\" he explained, \"but what really intrigues me is to find out how much more we can accomplish by joining forces with an organization as effective and far reaching as the Disney company.\" He was excited by more than just his new creative freedom; he was optimistic about the future of the Muppets, too. With Disney's deep pockets and enormous marketing and merchandising machine behind them, the Muppets could be promoted around the world, giving them the kind of international prominence that Henson Associates could never buy. \"I think Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg have been brilliant in their handling of the Disney company,\" Jim continued. \"I look forward to seeing what we can do together.\" For his part, Eisner was delighted to have both Jim on their team as \"a creative designated hitter\" and the Muppets filling out their character roster. \"There are only a few characters in the world who have the kind of appeal [the Muppets have],\" explained Eisner. \"And they're all evergreen,\" added Katzenberg. \"You're dealing with material that does not age.... There could not be a more productive association for our company.\"\n\nStill, not everyone was happy about it, due mainly to confusion over how the transaction would affect the _Sesame Street_ Muppets. Despite Jim's best efforts to make it clear that the _Sesame Street_ characters were _not_ included in the deal, some critics fretted that Disney's acquisition of the Muppets meant that Ernie and Bert would soon be selling Disney toys and clothing. Jim finally drafted a letter, to be published under Kermit's signature, in yet another attempt to correct the record. \"Just thought I'd let you know that our friends from _Sesame Street_... are expressly _not_ part of the agreement with The Walt Disney Company,\" wrote Jim-as-Kermit. \"All of the _Sesame Street_ friends will remain right there at home on _Sesame Street_ , under the watchful eye of the Children's Television Workshop and Mr. Jim Henson.\" Still, misunderstandings over the status of the _Sesame Street_ Muppets would be a continuing source of anxiety during the negotiations.\n\nJoan Cooney, however, was genuinely delighted for Jim. She understood exactly why he had made the decision to sell the company. \"He will no longer have to be raising money for his movies and trying to find air time on television,\" she told _USA Today_. \"I can't imagine that he would have [sold to anyone else]. It is a marriage made in heaven.\" As always, Jim promised Cooney that she could count on his continued involvement with _Sesame Street_ \u2014he'd already joked that he and Oz would be performing Ernie and Bert when they were eighty\u2014and assured Cooney, with a twinkle in his eye, that he would insist his lawyers insert language into his Disney contract guaranteeing that he would spend two weeks of each year working on inserts for the show. \"He _never_ spent two weeks a year with _Sesame Street_ , but he just _loved_ putting that into the contract!\" laughed Cooney. \"We could not ask for a more supportive friend.\"\n\nAs described in the agreement-in-principle, the transaction would be fairly straightforward: in exchange for $150 million in Disney stock, Jim would sell all of his copyrights to the Walt Disney Company, including all of the Muppets (with the exception of those from _Sesame Street_ ), _Fraggle Rock_ , all three Muppet films, _The Dark Crystal_ , and _Labyrinth_. Once in Disney's hands, the company could freely use the characters in merchandising, videos, theme parks, publishing, or in any of the countless other media under the Disney imprint. Additionally, Jim himself would be attached exclusively to Disney for fifteen years (Eisner had joked that he hoped it would be \"for life\"), but would still have the opportunity to pursue his own projects through his own independent production company, with offices in New York, London, and Los Angeles (in fact, Jim already had producer Martin Baker scouting for office space in California). It was a corporate structure, said one confidential Henson Associates memo, that should ideally \"[give] Jim the maximum operating flexibility with the minimum financial risk.\"\n\nStill, the agreement-in-principle was only a road map; there were a number of small but important details that would have to be carefully worded and resolved on the way to the final agreement. Jim had interviewed four law firms to represent his interests, and had liked each of them so much he had engaged all four, though much of the work was left to the powerhouse firm of Skadden, Arps, which specialized in mergers and acquisitions. The attorneys would have their hands full, especially as Disney had a reputation for hard-knuckled negotiating. It had yet to be decided, for example, whether Jim Henson Productions would operate as a kind of subsidiary of Disney, or whether it would be a truly independent production company. The distinction was important: as a subsidiary, Disney would own the company and pay Jim a salary and a share of the company's profits, while as a completely independent production company, Jim would own and fund the company and receive production and development fees from Disney. Negotiators were already working to find a middle ground between the two alternatives\u2014but whatever the final compromise, Jim was insistent that Disney at least pay the dreaded overhead costs for his production company.\n\nAnother sticking point related to the use of the Muppets themselves. Jim hoped he would be permitted to retain some sort of limited control over the use of the \"Muppets as puppets\"\u2014that is, in any production that required the use of puppeteers to perform the Muppet characters. Put simply, Jim wanted to be involved in the selection and hiring of puppeteers. As Jim was constantly reminding anyone who would listen, characters didn't come easily; many took years to develop. Sometimes it was a matter of finding the character through something as intensive as the writing process, or as wonderfully impromptu as an ad-libbed aside. Other times, an old puppet in the hands of a new performer could create miracles, such as when Richard Hunt\u2014frustrated with a fuzzy red _Sesame Street_ monster named Elmo\u2014hurled the Muppet at Kevin Clash and asked him to do something with it\u2014and a lovable, huggable star was born. \"A lot of times, you go through a lot of experimenting and moving around before it all [comes together],\" Jim said. Performers were crucial; he didn't want Disney treating puppeteers, or their puppets, interchangeably. Early on, Katzenberg had promised to put in writing the rates at which the performers would be paid\u2014and even suggested that some of them be put on the Disney payroll\u2014but had backpedaled immediately, refusing to speculate on whether Disney could actually legally make such a commitment. But Jim wanted a guarantee his performers would be taken care of\u2014and, perhaps more important, that their craft be respected. Without them, Disney was simply getting a toy box full of puppets.\n\nJim had a similar concern about the integrity of the Muppets in licensing and merchandise. \"Much like Disney,\" he explained to Eisner, \"we have a reputation in the consumer products community as a licensor with very exacting quality control procedures.\" Jim had always taken licensing seriously, putting in place a rigorous review process for every kind of Muppet merchandising or for the use of Muppet likenesses; now he wanted a guarantee that he could pre-approve quality standards for any of Disney's Muppet merchandise\u2014or, at the very least, that Disney would \"treat our characters with the same high quality standards that apply to their own characters.\" He wasn't being unreasonable, he thought; rather, he simply wanted to maintain his hard-earned reputation for quality, the trust he'd earned from consumers who could be certain that Muppet products weren't junk. \"That was Jim's mandate,\" said Lazer. \"He only wanted quality things out there.\"\n\nAnd then there was Kermit the Frog. While Jim was prepared to hand over all of the Muppets to Disney, he didn't intend for Kermit to go with them unconditionally. He was too important. \"Kermit should be treated in the negotiations as a separate issue,\" recommended a confidential Henson Associates memo. \"Since Kermit the Frog is so closely associated with Jim Henson, _Jim must have control over the use of Kermit_.\" For Disney, however, getting the Muppets without the free use of Kermit was like getting the cast of _Peanuts_ without Snoopy. For the moment, Kermit was in a kind of legal limbo as both sides tried to figure out, Solomon-like, how to split the million-dollar baby.\n\nStill, regardless of the issues that had yet to be resolved, Disney\u2014and particularly Eisner\u2014knew they were getting a lot for their $150 million. Eisner acknowledged that the company was paying \"a lot of money\" but added that, from a purely financial point of view, with \"the established franchises and the upside of new Jim Henson products, we will earn a really good return on our investment.\" On Wall Street, Disney stock crept slightly upward the day the deal was announced, but astute analysts understood the deal was about more than money. \"It's a strategic acquisition,\" said one trader. \"It almost doesn't matter if they paid too much or too little.\" For Jim, though, it was never really about the money. \"Jim is ambitious in expressing himself, not in wanting a lot of money or fame,\" Oz told one reporter. \"If that was all, he could kick back and relax now. But he wants to play and have fun and do good stuff.\"\n\nJim also understood that his success\u2014and the success that had made Henson Associates such a desirable commodity for Disney that they were willing to invest $150 million in it\u2014had been a collaborative effort. \"It's not just me doing this stuff,\" he once said. \"It's a lot of us creating it, writers and designers and puppeteers.\" Despite his frustration with the personality conflicts that had become a regular part of running his company, Jim was always sincerely fond of his colleagues, collaborators, and staff. \"[It's] the people who have made this company such a delightful place for me,\" Jim told Eisner. \"As you well know, it all begins with them and their loyalty and dedication.\" Once the deal went through, then, Jim wanted to show his appreciation for that loyalty and dedication.\n\nFor several weeks he'd been scribbling what came to be called \"The List\"\u2014the names of people who Jim believed had played a significant role in the success of the Muppets or had brought value to the company over the last thirty years. Next to each name was a dollar figure, running from thousands all the way up into the millions. \"He really wanted to do right by everybody,\" said Lisa Henson. \"This was money he wanted to get into people's hands\" as a show of his appreciation. In the past, Jim had been generous about rewarding a number of key writers, producers, and performers with shares in merchandising profits, or awarding partial ownership of a project. Several years earlier, for example, Jerry Juhl had been struck speechless when he learned that Jim had given him a percentage of the profits from the lucrative _Muppet Babies_ merchandising. \"After twenty-five years, you can still surprise me, chief!\" Juhl told Jim warmly. \"[Jim] really wanted this deal to be a good thing for everyone,\" said Mary Ann Cleary. \"He seemed only thrilled to be sharing his bounty with everyone that had made contributions to the success of the company.\"\n\nJim took great pleasure in The List, carrying it around with him and taking it out from time to time to add another name or adjust a dollar figure. It gave him the opportunity to do a personal inventory of his relationships with his collaborators, and think about what others had done with him and for him over the last three decades. \"He tried to be very benevolent with everybody,\" said Dave Goelz\u2014and yet there were some who still felt, fairly or not, that he had never been generous enough in his praise for their efforts. With The List, Jim felt he was in some way atoning for what he considered his greatest weakness as an employer and manager: no matter how hard he tried, he had not always made his employees happy. The bonuses, he hoped, would finally soothe some of the bruised egos at Henson Associates, providing the fiscal equivalent of the backslapping \"attaboys\" that Jim never really bestowed. For the most part, though, Jim took genuine glee in working on his list. For someone who enjoyed giving gifts as much as Jim did, it was going to be a fun way to spend his own money.\n\nIf asked, however, Jim would often enthuse that the most exciting part of the Disney deal was neither the money nor the production company he would oversee; it was the chance to develop rides and attractions for the Disney theme parks. As recently as 1987, Jim had been seriously exploring the idea of a Muppet-themed amusement park, even commissioning concept art for a park called Muppetville before conceding that \"Disney does it so well that we could never do it better.\" Now, however, he was being given a corner of the fledgling Disney-MGM Studios in which to develop Muppet-themed rides, attractions, and restaurants, with Disney's wildly creative and innovative Imagineers at his full disposal. This was a playground far more fun to play in than even his Creature Shop. \"The idea of working our characters into the Disney parks!\" Jim gushed. \"I can't wait! This is going to be such fun.\"\n\nBy the beginning of September, in fact, Jim was already enthusiastically at work on his first project for the park, a 3-D Muppet movie he'd pitched to Eisner at dinner the night before their joint announcement. Jim had been intrigued by 3-D films for years; while he could never get the technology to work correctly for the \"interactive film\" he'd been hoping to make, he thought a 3-D movie might provide a similarly immersive experience for audiences\u2014but there, too, the technology left something to be desired. By the early 1980s, 3-D film technology had improved markedly since its gimmicky, eye-straining heyday in the 1950s, but Jim still wasn't impressed enough with it to use it for a Muppet project, telling one 3-D producer, \"If you've seen a process that works, I'd love to have my people see it.\"\n\nTypically, he finally saw it at Disney, which had premiered Michael Jackson's science-fiction-themed 3-D film _Captain EO_ at EPCOT in 1986. That movie\u2014in which smoke and laser effects inside the theater were seamlessly synced with events on-screen\u2014was hailed as one of the first \"4-D\" film experiences, an artistry Jim admired. He loved the idea of giving the audience a more complete experience, but wanted to take the concept to a manic extreme worthy of the Muppets. Instead of smoke belching and lasers flashing, then, Jim wanted walkaround Muppet characters running frantically down the theater aisles and soap bubbles floating from the ceiling\u2014and when audiences ducked one of Fozzie's squirting flowers, Jim wanted them to get wet. \"He was _very_ excited\" about the idea, said Alex Rockwell, who had helped Jim develop the concept with Muppet writer Bill Prady. On September 11, 1989, Jim and Rockwell flew to California to discuss the movie with Disney Imagineers, meeting them in their exalted Glendale offices, a compound so secure that Jim needed a security clearance to enter the grounds. For two hours, Jim was given a full tour of the facility, then spent the rest of the afternoon discussing 3-D movie ideas with the Imagineers\u2014the first of many energizing meetings Jim would have with the Imagineers over the next eight months. \"Oh, they had so much fun in those meetings,\" said Rockwell. \"He was in heaven. Heaven, heaven, heaven.\"\n\nBack in New York, Jim was also holding regular meetings with Michael Frith and his creative team\u2014usually including Alex Rockwell, Chris Cerf, Kirk Thatcher, and Bill Prady, among others\u2014to brainstorm ideas for Muppet rides. Jim's favorite attractions in the Disney parks were the Pirates of the Caribbean ride\u2014the reliable favorite in which passengers float through scenes filled with comic, Audio-Animatronic pirates\u2014and the lesser-known River of Time, a quiet boat ride through moments in Mexican history, housed in the Mexico pavilion at EPCOT. Both were dark rides in which riders floated through the attraction in boats, looking at Audio-Animatronic figures, so it is perhaps of little surprise that the first attraction Jim wanted to design was a massive dark ride filled with scenes featuring Audio-Animatronic Muppets. Jim thought it would be funny to parody Disney-MGM's centerpiece dark ride\u2014a slow cruise through great moments in film called the Great Movie Ride\u2014with an attraction of his own called the Great Muppet Movie Ride. \"It'll be a backstage ride explaining how movies are shot,\" said Jim, giggling, \"but all the information is wrong!\" Michael Frith went quickly to work, pencil flying as he drew Muppet parodies of famous films.\n\nIt wasn't all creative fun, however. Until the Disney deal was finalized, Jim was still responsible for running his company and for putting things in order to ensure a smooth transition to Disney's ownership. Part of the transition process involved downsizing staff\u2014a heartbreaking task that Jim left largely to Lazer, though he took the time to write glowing letters of recommendation himself, including a letter for the regular morning housekeeper at One Seventeen, a woman everyone called simply Tainy. After a quick trip to California in mid-September\u2014where he picked up an Emmy for directing the _Dog City_ episode of _The Jim Henson Hour_ \u2014Jim spent several days almost exclusively in the company of Lazer and Brillstein, talking quietly over meals at the Sherry-Netherland, trying to deal with transition issues and discussing the ongoing negotiations with Disney.\n\nThe first week in October, he was back for an extended stay in Los Angeles to personally continue the conversation with Katzenberg. On October 3, Jim had formally set up the West Coast arm of Jim Henson Productions, running the company out of a set of offices in the Disney Tower in Burbank. He was also renting a house\u2014for $15,000 a month\u2014on a relatively remote stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway just north of Malibu, moving into a mission-style home jutting out of the bluffs just above Nicholas Canyon Beach. It was nearly fifty miles from the house into his offices at Disney, but Jim savored the drive, conducting business on his clunky cellular phone as he cruised into Burbank in a rented white convertible Volkswagen Cabriolet or, later, his own cream-colored Mercedes. And Jim loved driving _fast_ , roaring down the Pacific Coast Highway with the top down, blaring the local Top 40 radio station. The speeding tickets piled up, but Jim paid them all with a shrug; he _liked_ speeding.\n\nHis schedule was packed\u2014but Jim was fully engaged again, in a way he hadn't been since well before _The Jim Henson Hour_. Put simply, said John Henson, \"at the end of the day, what he was really excited about was working with the Disney company.\" Over lunch, Jim would talk with the head of the Disney Channel about creating original content for cable, while at dinner he would meet with the president of Touchstone Pictures, a Disney film company that produced more adult-oriented fare. In between, he would attend countless meetings with Imagineers to discuss the 3-D movie and the Great Muppet Movie Ride. Weeks earlier, _USA Today_ had noted admiringly that Disney, by aligning itself with Jim, had purchased \"creative vitality.\" It certainly seemed so; Disney Imagineers admired both his enthusiasm and his seemingly endless stream of ideas. \"[Jim's] natural curiosity and openness and receptiveness to new ideas made him a perfect fit to work with Imagineering,\" said one Imagineer. \"The room always lit up when he was around.\"\n\nOn his way back to New York, Jim stopped for several days in New Mexico to visit Mary Ann. \"The trips were often whirlwinds,\" said Mary Ann. Ever since their reconciliation, she and Jim had tried to continue seeing each other as regularly as possible, but with Jim's schedule they often had to cram as much activity as they could into three or four days. Jim liked casually strolling the galleries and museums in Santa Fe or riding horses along the arroyos near Albuquerque\u2014and if there was time, they would get in a ski trip to Taos, or take long drives to Chimay\u00f3 to explore spiritual sites. Jim, thought Mary Ann, was always \"light [and] relaxed,\" in New Mexico.\n\nThings weren't as light and relaxed back in New York, however, where Jim spent two days being briefed by his attorneys on the status of the Disney deal. On the evening of October 17, Jim boarded an all-night flight for London, where he would spend a week with producer Martin Baker meeting with Disney executives at Shepperton Studios\u2014and he wasn't happy. Jim \"was frustrated,\" said Brillstein, \"as Disney fought over every single point.\" The day after his arrival at Shepperton, Jim fired off a note to Lazer, enclosing a draft of a letter he wanted to send to Eisner and Katzenberg, \"communicat[ing] to both... my concern about our relationship.\" While Jim never raised his voice in meetings, his draft letter to the Disney chiefs had a markedly sharp timbre to it. \"I feel we are getting started in a way that is not going to work for me in the future,\" Jim warned:\n\nThe tone of the negotiations does not seem to me to be the way two parties should be relating to each other if they intend to go into a long term relationship. Jeffrey [Katzenberg] has said that this is what our respective lawyers are supposed to do\u2014to fight like hell and give in as little as possible; but somehow this doesn't seem correct to me. The kind of deal I like is one in which both parties try to arrive at a fair settlement and everyone walks away satisfied. I really don't intend to do battle with you guys for the next fifteen years. My impression is that Disney is standing firm on all issues, assuming that my company is committed to this deal and thus we will eventually cave in. This is not a wise assumption.\n\nHe was further annoyed by his treatment at the hands of Disney's accounting department, which was haggling over the costs he was billing for the 3-D film. Jim had asked for $1.2 million\u2014most of which, he reminded them, would be paid to the puppeteers\u2014and he was \"disturbed\" that Disney considered his fee for directing (which was \"a couple hundred thousand dollars\") to be \"too high and precedent breaking.\" As their first major collaboration, he warned, \"this doesn't bode well for the future.\" \"I think I can make major contributions to the Disney company,\" Jim concluded, \"but if I'm going to have to spend my time defending my value to you, or in combat with your business affairs people, it's good to know this now, because perhaps we would do better to go our separate ways.\"\n\nLazer\u2014who called himself \"the peacemaker\" in the discussions\u2014was eventually able to talk Jim down and the storm passed. But it was clear, only a month into talks, that it was going to be a long negotiation. \"It was a tough process,\" said Henson Associates attorney Peter Schube. \"[Disney] was very aggressive and very thorough... [but] no one should have been surprised.... This was not a bait and switch. This was not anything other than them being who they promised and announced themselves to be.\" For Jim, though, the tone of the negotiations mattered as much as the content. Jim might have been a realist when it came to business, said Steve Whitmire, \"but I think his idealism wasn't able to deal with this cutt-hroat world... where suddenly everything is about being a commodity and it's about buying and selling.\"\n\nJim spent much of the autumn bouncing across from coast to coast, meeting with Imagineers in Los Angeles one week, then spending the next week walking his corner of Disney-MGM Studios in Orlando, pointing out potential locations for Muppet attractions. To his delight, Jim found Disney's Imagineers\u2014unlike their counterparts in the accounting department\u2014to be willing conspirators in almost any plan, no matter how ridiculous, or expensive, an idea might be. \"He loved the fact that the bar for excellence was set so high inside the theme parks,\" said Schube. \"Jim loved to solve really hard problems in the production work that he did... [and] Disney does that all day long in the theme parks. That's all they do... and he loved how well they did it.\" During one walk through the park, Jim and Michael Frith pointed out to an Imagineer a set of power lines that were visible as visitors entered the area where the Muppet pavilion would be located and mused that it was unfortunate there wasn't a facade or a small building blocking the wires from sight. The Imagineer never even blinked. \"When do you need it?\" he asked.\n\nBack in New York, he had another construction project that was a bit more problematic, but just as much fun; his apartment at the Sherry-Netherland was again being refurbished, mostly to deal with problems caused by a crumbling inner wall. It was an expensive mess\u2014Jim would spend nearly $140,000 on renovations\u2014but he made the most of the chaos, bringing in subcontractors to install new fixtures, repaint, and clean all the carpets and marble surfaces. His collection of antiques had continued to grow over the years; he had recently added a carved chess set, which he intermingled with an ancient imperial Roman perfume bottle, a carved Egyptian cat dating back to 500 B.C., and a two-thousand-year-old grinning terracotta pig from Syria. On one wall, a brass elevator door from Selfridge's department store in London hung alongside a Mystic cloak from _The Dark Crystal_. Comfortable and quirky, the apartment would always be a warm and welcoming place.\n\nThat December, Jim couldn't resist throwing one more of his large, elaborate Christmas parties for his staff. Jim was notably relaxed, perhaps appreciating this would be the last Christmas party he would host before the company's absorption into Disney. But in the throes of his Christmas cheer and benevolence, he made a regrettable error, and informed a few partygoers of the existence of The List and\u2014even more critically\u2014exactly how much money he would be giving them when the Disney deal finally went through. \"It was like he was Santa for the night,\" recalled Mary Ann, but not everyone took the news with the gratitude Jim expected. Some grumbled they should have received more; others were miffed when they learned of the amounts others would receive compared to their own. Jim was stunned by the reaction. \"It was a little bit heartbreaking,\" said Lisa Henson, \"because he was giving money from the bottom of his heart.\"\n\nChristmas itself, however, was a much happier affair, as Jim spent several days with Lisa, John, Heather, and Mary Ann at Walt Disney World. Each morning, Jim and the kids would dive eagerly into the parks, enjoying the rides but taking the time to savor the small things\u2014the hedges clipped to resemble Disney characters, the inside jokes etched in the windows overlooking Main Street\u2014that made up \"the Disney experience.\" \"My dad liked _everything_ ,\" said Heather, \"the atmosphere, walking around... he was so in awe.\" He loved the parks, and was looking forward \"to having his characters be so alive and well maintained\" as the other iconic characters in the parks. On Christmas Day, Jim participated in his first Disney Christmas Parade, singing \"Sleigh Ride\" with Kermit from the top of a float, and then diving into the crowd with Kermit in his reporter outfit to interview parade watchers for television. John Henson remembered his father being truly happy that day. \"I gave him a bottle of white zinfandel wine [as a Christmas gift,] and he was just so appreciative of it. He was so thankful.\" It would be Jim's last Christmas.\n\nIn the second week of January 1990, Jim began production on the Muppet 3-D film\u2014to be called _Muppet*Vision 3D_ \u2014shooting the majority of the movie on the gigantic Stage 3 at Disney Studios in California, where _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ had been filmed thirty-six years earlier. \"He was more relaxed in a lot of ways,\" said Muppet performer Jerry Nelson. \"I think it was because he thought he had found the solution to not having to chase the money... that he would just have these projects and be able to create stuff.\" And yet, said Nelson, the more he talked with Jim about the details of the deal, the more he worried it wouldn't be everything Jim wanted it to be. Jim was growing more concerned, for example, that his production company, regardless of its structure, would be anything but independent once it was under the Disney umbrella. \"I think they would not have let him just do projects as he wanted,\" said Nelson. \"I think their production people would've just gotten in the way of all of it.... It would not have been a company that Jim was running.\"\n\nJim's larger concern, however, was still for his performers. There had been no resolution on whether Jim would be permitted to participate in the selection and training of puppeteers, or whether his performers would be seamlessly transferred over to Disney. \"I don't think they understood it took Jim years to get a single puppeteer up to speed,\" said Joan Cooney. Jim was growing particularly irritated with Katzenberg, who he found condescending toward the puppeteers and contemptuous of the art of puppetry. Even inside the Disney organization, Katzenberg was famously haughty and combative; Roy Disney\u2014Walt's nephew and vice chairman of the company\u2014found him rude, arrogant, and dismissive of the concerns of artists. In 1987, _The Wall Street Journal_ , with grudging admiration, described Kaztzenberg as \"the most brutal, the stingiest, most compulsive\u2014and possibly the best\u2014deal maker in town.\" Such a style may have gotten results, but \"that's not the way Jim operated,\" said Lazer, who spent countless evenings on the phone with Jim, trying to smooth things over after one of Jim's encounters with the abrasive Katzenberg. \"Many times, the deal was off,\" said Lazer, \"and I brought it back to life again.\" Lazer's advice: talk with Eisner. \"Every time he would go see Eisner, it got better,\" said Lazer. \"Eisner made it better.\"\n\nStill, even Jim's relationship with Eisner could get prickly from time to time. The point of contention was usually the same: _Sesame Street_. Jim had continued to assure Joan Cooney that Disney wouldn't acquire the _Sesame Street_ Muppets in the deal, and had even personally informed Eisner that pursuing such a negotiation would be \"a non-starter.\" During one lunch meeting with Cooney and Eisner, however, Jim became visibly annoyed when Eisner even _mentioned_ the words _Sesame Street_. \"There you go again,\" said Jim curtly. Eisner let the matter drop.\n\nAlso rocky was Jim's relationship with Mary Ann. The two of them had been together almost constantly since Christmas, and in mid-January they were staying in Jim's house in Malibu while Jim worked on _Muppet*Vision 3D_. With his regular team of performers all in one place again, Jim threw a party at the house, beaming happily as he moved comfortably among friends\u2014including a number of women, noted Mary Ann, who seemed to know their way around Jim's kitchen. \"I felt like the writing was on the wall,\" said Mary Ann.\n\nShortly thereafter, Mary Ann returned to New Mexico. Jim didn't try to follow. \"After a few weeks, we decided to let go,\" she recalled, \"and he said he would give me the space I needed. It was hard but very loving.\" Several weeks later, however, Jim went out of his way to bump into her as she left a lunch meeting in Los Angeles, giving her an enormous hug as she waited for a car. If Jim was hoping for reconciliation, he was likely surprised by the cold reception. That evening, Mary Ann angrily called Jim at home, and shouted, \"I was five weeks into building my own life again!\" There would be no argument, however; Jim simply listened quietly and hung up\u2014then called back the next evening. But her anger was too much for him, and when she finally asked Jim not to call again, he complied. \"Later on, I felt badly, because even if you thought you were justified, it was hard to stay mad at Jim,\" said Mary Ann. \"But he understood.\"\n\nWhile Jim understood, it was painful for him _not_ to be in a relationship\u2014especially as he looked around him as his children and co-workers entered into serious relationships or marriages of their own. Lisa, now nearly thirty and a successful film executive, was in a long-term relationship with director Sam Raimi. Cheryl, too, was in a committed relationship, while twenty-six-year-old Brian Henson would soon marry costume designer Ellis Flyte. Frank Oz had been married since 1979 and was raising children, while several Muppet office romances had bloomed into matrimony: besides Brian Froud's marriage to Wendy Midener, creative director Mike Frith had married performer Kathy Mullen. It made Jim feel lonely and old\u2014and he sometimes wondered aloud if he would ever truly be in love again.\n\nAnd then there was Jane. Despite their differences, \"they were always very civil except when they weren't,\" reported Brian Henson. Jim trusted her to deliver an honest opinion, and the two of them would go to lunch or dinner regularly, where they would talk about the children and the company. More often now, Jim would lay out the details of the Disney discussions and ask her opinion. Jane would listen patiently, offering advice only when asked. She understood his frustration with Katzenberg. \"Jim didn't really want to work with somebody who had no respect for what he did,\" said Jane. But she also knew Jim wanted the deal to work out. \"He could see the possibilities of what could be done if he could be part of that big company.\"\n\nIf Katzenberg was giving Jim headaches, he was nothing compared with Roald Dahl, who was positively fuming over _The Witches_ , finally released in the middle of February 1990. Things had been quiet over the past few months while the film went into postproduction and final editing; but Dahl had finally seen the completed movie with an audience, and was \"appalled\" at what he considered \"the vulgarity, the bad taste and the actual terror displayed in certain parts of the film.\" Dahl fired off an angry letter to Duncan Kenworthy (since \"Jim... does not seem to answer any of my letters\" he complained) and demanded that his name, and the name of the book, be removed from the credits of the final film. If Jim refused to comply with this request, warned Dahl, \"then I shall obviously have to do my best with press conferences, etc. to ensure that children don't go and see the film.\" Kenworthy refused to rise to the bait, merely responding that he was \"saddened\" to receive Dahl's letter, and noting that the film had played well in test screenings. He assured Dahl that he would pass his letter on to Jim.\n\nJim responded to Dahl a week later, suitably apologetic, but tactfully ignoring Dahl's threat. \"I'm sorry that we didn't stay in closer touch with you through the process of making the film,\" wrote Jim. \"We certainly had our problems, and perhaps you could have helped us through some of the rocky patches to a final product that you would be happier with.\" Nonetheless, Jim liked the final film, and would stand by it. \"It's such a delightful book that you've given us to work with,\" he told Dahl diplomatically. \"I hope you will forgive us for falling short of your expectations.\" Though he would never be happy with the film, Dahl grudgingly withdrew his threat.\n\nJim was spending more and more time at the Disney facilities in Orlando now, tending to his corner of the park, examining walkaround Muppet costumes, and recording voice tracks to be used inside of Disney World's elaborate transportation system. As much as he enjoyed the Grand Floridian, he wanted a home of his own in the area, and had recently put in the paperwork to purchase a house overlooking Lake Down in the town of Windermere, an affluent suburb thirty minutes north of Walt Disney World. Jim had so enjoyed decorating his Steamboat Road home in Connecticut with Connie Beale that he hired her to help with his new home as well, flying her to Orlando regularly to shop for furniture and fabrics.\n\nNegotiations with Disney dragged on through the spring, with no end in sight, though there had already been one casualty: Bernie Brillstein. Disney lawyers were insisting that Disney have the exclusive authority to sell and distribute Jim's projects\u2014and that meant Brillstein could no longer serve as Jim's representative. Jim had flown to California to discuss the matter with Brillstein personally, breaking the news to the agent at his home. Brillstein understood. \"Everyone who knows the Disney Company knows that they think they're smarter than anyone who was ever born,\" said Brillstein. But what Jim did next stunned him.\n\nBrillstein's name was at the very top of The List\u2014the first name Jim had written down when assessing who had been vital to his success, and with little wonder: Brillstein had been watching out for Jim\u2014and vice versa\u2014for thirty years. \"We've had a great, great time,\" Jim told Brillstein. \"I wanted to tell you myself, because I love you and you deserve it.\" Jim handed Brillstein a check for $7 million\u2014he promised another $3 million when the deal went through\u2014and offered to pay the agent $500,000 annually in perpetuity to serve as his personal advisor. Brillstein was speechless. \"Jesus Christ,\" he finally croaked as he took the check. \"Our bond was the unspoken certainty that we belonged together,\" said Brillstein later.\n\nThrough it all, Jim continued working on _Muppet*Vision 3D_ , as well as a live stage show for Disney-MGM called _Here Come the Muppets_ and the television special _The Muppets at Walt Disney World_. There were some inside the organization who wondered why Jim would keep doing work for Disney without a formal agreement in place. Duncan Kenworthy thought it was typical not only of Jim's work ethic, but Jim's faith in Eisner. \"Jim didn't say, 'We're not going to do anything until the Disney deal is signed,' \" recalled Kenworthy. \"He said, 'Hey guys, this is about relationships.' Besides, he couldn't sit on his hands for eight months. He just pitched in.\"\n\nIt wasn't just Disney getting work out of him; Jim was still actively pursuing and promoting projects for Henson Associates and the Creature Shop, most of which he would own as part of his production company once the agreement was complete. In early March, Jim began meeting with Henson Associates staff about a second series of _Storyteller_ episodes based on Greek myths, and put the final touches on a family special called _Living with Dinosaurs_ , about an asthmatic boy with a talking stuffed dinosaur, that had been intended as an installment of _The Jim Henson Hour_. By the end of the month, he was out promoting _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ , which opened strongly on March 30 and earned rave reviews for the Creature Shop's expressive turtle costumes.\n\nJim was spending so much time at his California production company, in fact, that he had decided to purchase the Malibu house he had been renting for the past year. He now had homes in Malibu, Florida, New York, Connecticut, and London\u2014\"one home per child,\" he joked. The place in Malibu was particularly good for Jim\u2014tucked up on the bluffs near Nicholas Canyon Beach, far removed from the bustle of Burbank, with no other homes around, it seemed, at times, to be in the middle of nowhere. He had recently taken up yoga, and in the mornings he would set up his yoga mat on the rear deck and go through his sun salutation poses as he looked out over the Pacific Ocean. \"It just made him so happy,\" said Cheryl. Other times, he would simply sit quietly as he watched the ocean stretch out toward the horizon\u2014\"just a few minutes in meditation and prayer each morning,\" he said. \"I find that this really helps me to start the day with a good frame of reference. As part of my prayers, I thank whoever is helping me\u2014I'm sure somebody or something is\u2014I express gratitude for all my blessings and I try to forgive the people that I'm feeling negative toward. I try hard not to judge anyone, and I try to bless everyone who is part of my life, particularly anyone with whom I am having any problems.\"\n\nThat spring, Jim made the short flight from Burbank up to Sacramento, then drove up the coastline to visit Jerry Juhl at his home a hundred miles north of San Francisco. The two walked and talked among the giant redwoods for a while, then returned to Juhl's home office to discuss _The Cheapest Muppet Movie Ever Made_ , which Jim was still determined to make once the Disney deal was complete. It was a project the two of them loved to talk about\u2014and Jim would spread the storyboards out on the floor of Juhl's office where, in no time, the two of them would be giggling uncontrollably as they tossed around one idea after another. \"I thought he was more relaxed and happier, sort of more content with what was happening than I'd seen him in a long time,\" said Juhl. \"Really happy.\"\n\nLazer thought so, too. In April, he briefly joined Jim down at Disney-MGM, where Jim excitedly described a new attraction he wanted to build: a fully operational television studio in which park visitors could watch the Muppet performers at work on whatever production happened to be under way at the time. As he showed Lazer around the rest of the Muppet area\u2014making big sweeping motions with his hands as he pointed out where the Great Muppet Ride would be or where he wanted to set up the Great Gonzo's Pandemonium Pizza Parlor\u2014Lazer thought that \"Jim was never happier in his life.... Anything he wanted to do, he could do,\" said Lazer. \"I never saw this friend of mine so happy.\"\n\nBy the end of April, then, Jim was determined to get the Disney deal done. There was still the major issue of the status of the Muppet performers to resolve\u2014the big question was whether Disney would buy out any performers it _didn't_ put on its own payroll\u2014but Jim was getting tired of the haggling. \"Disney focused on _everything_ ,\" said one Henson insider. \"You'd have to call Michael Eisner and say, 'This is where it's gone with your zealous robots.' Every single issue was pushed as a deal point by Disney. As opposed to focusing on the big points, they focused on everything.\" It was a war of attrition, and no detail was too minute. Even the small service elevator at One Seventeen had drawn fire from the Disney lawyers, who pounded away at Jim's legal team for weeks, arguing over elevator permits and inspection records. Henson Associates attorney Peter Schube still grimaced at the negotiations even twenty years later. \"[Henson Associates] was extremely solid,\" said Schube. \"We had been well served by the very best outside lawyers, particularly in the field of copyright and trademark, for as long as there had been a company. But we were a closely held, nonpublic company, operating out of a brownstone. There's always something that can be ginned up if an army of Disney lawyers is charged with finding things.\" As one Muppet writer put it, \"Disney is a corporate entity and Jim and the Muppets have a very fuzzy, Grateful Dead kind of sensibility.\" It was that underlying difference in corporate personalities, said Schube, \"that drew the process out, and created frustration on both sides. They had a way of doing things that were meaningful to them. Jim had a goal that was meaningful to him\u2014but Disney's way of doing things sort of pushed that goal further and further out.\"\n\nLazer was still arguing that, even at $150 million, Disney was getting Jim too cheaply. Some even thought that Jim was willing to let an unfavorable deal move forward simply so he could place the Muppets safely in the hands of Disney\u2014and then, once his fifteen-year exclusive obligation expired, he would leave the Muppets behind and move on to something completely different. \"Of all the people in the world, Jim could actually probably do that,\" said Larry Mirkin, \"because he would just say, 'You know, let's do something new.' \"\n\n\"That goddamned deal!\" Jim was now calling it, using an expletive so rare, said Michael Frith, that \"I'll never forget my surprise and, frankly, shock when he said it.... It came from a place of _deep_ hurt and frustration.\" It saddened Jim, recalled Jane, when \"things just didn't work out between people or projects... he never really knew how to deal with [that disappointment] because, in some ways, he didn't allow himself _not_ to be an optimist.\" But Jim had given Eisner his word\u2014and he was confident he and Eisner could work things out.\n\n\"Don't worry,\" he told Brillstein, reminding the agent that there was still something bigger than merely legal negotiations holding the deal together: \"My handshake.\"\n\n# **CHAPTER SIXTEEN**\n\n#\n\n# **JUST ONE PERSON**  \n1990\n\n(photo credit 16.1)\n\nON FRIDAY, APRIL 27, 1990\u2014A LONG DAY THAT BEGAN WITH A 5:30 A.M. taping of the _Today_ show\u2014Jim left for Orlando to spend several days filming Disney commercials with the Muppet team. Negotiations between Disney and Henson Associates continued even as Jim worked, and on May 1 he met with Lazer, Martin Baker, and planning director Charles Rivkin over dinner at the Grand Floridian\u2014a meeting serious enough that they resumed it over breakfast the next morning. Jim would be leaving Orlando for Los Angeles later that afternoon\u2014but when he returned to New York in a week, he wanted to get everything in order to close the deal. \"He was ready,\" said Brillstein. In fact, Jim had already called the agent and told him he wanted to plan on setting aside a few days to go on a yacht trip \"with the boys.\" \"We're gonna celebrate the Disney deal,\" he told Brillstein excitedly. \"Pick people who are fun!\"\n\nLate in the afternoon of Friday, May 4, Jim met Kevin Clash and Arthur Novell at Paramount Studios in Hollywood to tape an appearance on _The Arsenio Hall Show_. Jim wasn't feeling well; somewhere along the way, he had picked up what he thought was a trace of a cold, perhaps even a mild case of strep throat, admitting to Novell that he was tired and his throat was slightly sore. \"He insisted it would go away,\" said Novell\u2014as Clash remembered, he said \"it wasn't anything extreme\"\u2014and Jim ambled out onstage that evening in gray slacks and a colorful sweater, his hair newly trimmed, grinning happily. But things were clearly off. Placing Kermit on his arm, he bantered with Hall about the Kermit\u2013Miss Piggy relationship, struggling at times to come up with a clever retort. With his voice somewhat thicker than normal, Jim so noticeably stumbled over his own ad-libbed punch lines that even Hall joked about Kermit's faltering speech. \"I would've said I had a frog in my throat,\" Kermit responded a bit lamely, \"but I won't say that.\" Following a commercial break, Clash came on to perform his hip Muppet musician Clifford, sparring nimbly with Hall for the final five minutes. Jim sank back into the couch, legs crossed, quietly stroking his beard.\n\nAt dinner afterward, Jim thanked Clash for helping make the appearance a success. \"It was funny how much he was disappointed by his performance,\" said Clash. \"He loved what I did with Clifford but he wasn't happy with what he did\u2014and I think that had to do with him not feeling really good.\" Later that evening, Jim was scheduled to sit for an interview with Tom Snyder for ABC Radio. Novell, concerned about Jim's sore throat, offered to bring some antibiotics he had in a suitcase in the back of their town car. \"No, leave it,\" Jim told Novell. \"I'll be okay.\"\n\nContrary to rumors that persisted long after Jim's death, Jim's Christian Science upbringing had _not_ given him a lifelong aversion to doctors or medication. Although Jim always respected the Christian Science point of view, he had long abandoned its practices as a way of life. \"I think it's not particularly necessary to lead a religious life,\" he once wrote. \"People progress just as well in music, or art, or math or science or gardening or whatever. It all seems to work as well and the process is good.\" While Jim rarely took anything stronger than aspirin or Advil, the truth was that he rarely went to doctors\u2014or rarely took medication\u2014because Jim rarely got sick. \"Jim was very stubborn about sickness,\" said Alex Rockwell. \"He basically didn't tolerate it.\" And, said Rockwell sincerely, \"his schedule didn't allow for it.\"\n\n\"He was always quite robust and healthy,\" said Brian Henson, a contention supported by nearly everyone who worked closely with him. \"He just wasn't an unhealthy guy,\" said Steve Whitmire. \"He was happy and he was healthy.\" So healthy, in fact, that anytime Jim came down with _anything_ \u2014especially if it was serious enough to disrupt his work schedule\u2014he made a note of it in his private journal, writing \"I get the flu,\" over five days in February 1985 or, more seriously, \"Went to Washington for holiday; Got pneumonia upon return,\" in early 1968. But illness for Jim was atypical\u2014and when he did get sick, he preferred to simply weather the storm, recovering quietly at home, without a fuss, and dosing himself with aspirin and his favorite comfort foods, usually tomato soup and peanut butter sandwiches. There was nothing unusual or sinister, then, in his refusal of Novell's offer of antibiotics. \"Typical Jim,\" said Novell with a sigh two decades later. \"Very much so.\"\n\nJim remained in California for several more days, staying at the house in Malibu, before finally heading back to New York on Tuesday, May 8. He was feeling better\u2014and on his way to the Los Angeles airport, he stopped in to see Bernie Brillstein, whose father had passed away a week earlier. Jim hadn't been able to attend the funeral, and wanted to offer his condolences. Jim wrapped Brillstein in one of his big hugs. \"I love you,\" he told the agent. \"I'll see you when I get back.\" He was going to North Carolina to visit his dad and Bobby, he said\u2014he was especially determined to see his father, who was in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease\u2014but then he was returning to Los Angeles to see Eisner and sign the deal. \"I don't give a shit what happens,\" Jim laughed, using another rare epithet. \"We'll sell it!\" On his way out the door, Jim casually asked Brillstein's receptionist out for a date. Then, with a wave goodbye, he was gone.\n\nMay 9 was always an important date for Jim. In 1955, it had been the day _Sam and Friends_ had debuted in Washington\u2014and since then, it had served as a kind of unofficial birthday for both Kermit the Frog and the Muppets. More important, however, it was also Lisa Henson's birthday\u2014and today, as she turned thirty, Warner Brothers announced that she had been promoted to executive vice president. Jim was so proud. He sent flowers.\n\nOn the morning of Saturday, May 12, after two days of seemingly nonstop meetings at One Seventeen, Jim and Cheryl boarded a USAir flight at LaGuardia Airport, and touched down in Norfolk, Virginia, a little after 10:00 A.M. Jim wasn't feeling well again; while he didn't have a fever, his throat was still sore, his nose was running, and he had picked up a slight cough. \"It seemed like a cold or flu,\" said Cheryl. But he felt well enough to carry his own bags and drove their rental car the seventy miles south from Norfolk to rural Ahoskie, North Carolina, where they checked into a motel near Paul and Bobby's home.\n\nJim and Cheryl spent the rest of Saturday with Paul and Bobby, playing croquet on the lawn, sipping tea with lots of ice, and chatting casually in the kitchen. \"This was a place where Jim was always at home, embraced with love and easy companionship,\" said Cheryl. After dinner, Jim\u2014along with an assortment of cousins and extended family\u2014retired to the Hensons' screened-in \"secret porch,\" watching the sun go down as they swapped stories and swayed silently in gliders or creaked in rocking chairs. \"We just laughed and had a wonderful time,\" said Bobby. Jim was \"a little sniffily,\" she recalled, but would never say he was sick. Rather, he said he \"just didn't feel good\"\u2014which was more than anyone had ever heard him complain about his health.\n\nSunday morning, however, Jim said he felt worse, and went back to bed in his motel room, sleeping in until nearly lunchtime. Around noon, his cousin Stan Jenkins came to pick up Jim and Cheryl to drive them back out to Paul and Bobby's for lunch. Jim mentioned during the short car ride that he still wasn't feeling well and had taken Advil\u2014and Stan, a physician, advised Jim to see a doctor the moment he was back in New York (it would later be incorrectly and unfairly reported that Stan had examined Jim and missed the warning signs of pneumonia, an accusation that haunted Stan for years). Jim tried to eat, but had little appetite. His cough had worsened, sometimes rasping so violently that he coughed blood\u2014something he disclosed to no one at the time, preferring not to worry his family. By late afternoon, Jim shakily mentioned that he might try to catch an earlier flight back to New York. There were other factors to consider, too; beginning at ten the next morning he was scheduled to spend all day in a recording session for a Disney show, and wanted to make sure he, and his voice, were rested enough. Bobby, who thought Jim \"looked kind of bad,\" told him to go. \"Nobody knew that Jim was that ill,\" Bobby said. \"I knew he'd been tired. I chalked it up to that.\"\n\nWhat no one suspected was that Jim was in the early stages of pneumonia brought on by a rare group A streptococcal bacterial infection\u2014an infection that may possibly have invaded Jim's system as he struggled with the mild case of strep throat during his _Arsenio Hall_ appearance in early May. The question of how and why such a rare and terrible infection should strike an otherwise healthy, robust person remains one of the great, unjust mysteries of Jim Henson's life. All that is known for certain is that as he left Paul and Bobby's that afternoon, the streptococcal bacteria were already slowly spreading through Jim's lungs and organs.\n\nJim and Cheryl drove back to Norfolk, where they were able to swap their 9:45 P.M. flight for an earlier one, and arrived back at LaGuardia early Sunday evening. \"He was really tired,\" said Cheryl. As they walked through the airport, Jim cleared his throat and tested his voice in anticipation of the recording session the next morning, repeating, \"Hi, ho, Kermit the Frog here!\" several times, trying to shake the same thickness that had fogged his voice on _Arsenio Hall_ a week earlier. A car service drove both Jim and Cheryl home, dropping Jim off at the Sherry-Netherland first. As Jim climbed out of the car, he told Cheryl he was going straight to bed.\n\nOnly he didn't. John had been staying with him at the Sherry-Netherland for some time\u2014it was John, in fact, who was helping Jim train Disney performers to play the role of Sweetums for the _Muppet*Vision 3D_ show\u2014and when Jim came in the door, John was racing around the apartment, experimenting with a small Steadycam. Always the gadget junkie, Jim couldn't resist taking the camera, and went whizzing around the apartment with it until his knees suddenly buckled. John took the camera away and led his father to the bedroom. \"Dad, you're sick,\" John said. \"Sick people lie in bed. They don't run around trying Steadycams. Go lie in bed.\" Jim finally crawled into bed, and John sat down next to him, rubbing his back, until Jim fell asleep.\n\nJim awoke on Monday morning \"feel[ing] lousy\"; his voice was wrecked, and he was starting to have trouble catching his breath, both symptoms of the bacterial pneumonia that was now rapidly eating away at his lungs. Jim called his assistant, Anne Kinney, and asked her to cancel not only his 8:30 breakfast meeting, but also the all-day recording session for the _Muppets on Location_ that was starting at ten. \"This was big news,\" said Kinney; Jim had never missed a recording session before, much less canceled one. Jim may have had a whim of steel, but to the Muppet performers, he was also their iron man, never absent. \"No one could remember Jim ever calling in sick,\" said Dave Goelz. Kinney stopped in later that morning to check on Jim and deliver some soup; at the same time, Jane called the apartment and spoke briefly with him. She had been upset with Jim about something the night before, and had called Cheryl, looking for him so they could discuss it\u2014but Cheryl had informed her that Jim was sick in his apartment, trying to sleep, and advised her to wait until morning to call him. Now, as she spoke on the phone with Jim, Jane became concerned. \"He said he'd had a very rough night,\" recalled Jane.\n\nLate in the afternoon, Jane dropped by Jim's apartment to check on him, bringing along a pot of chicken soup. Jim had just gotten out of a warm bath and was getting ready to go back to bed\u2014anything, he told Jane, to stop his heart from beating so fast. \"I probably should have realized how serious that was, and he should have, too,\" said Jane\u2014but Jim insisted he merely needed to sleep. \"Do you want me to stay?\" Jane asked quietly. Jim nodded. \"I wish that you would.\"\n\nJane firmly shooed John out of the apartment\u2014\"she basically kicked me out\"\u2014and put Jim to bed. But he couldn't sleep; in addition to his rapid heartbeat, he was coughing violently and having difficulty catching his breath. Jane sat with him, speaking to him quietly and trying to get him to relax. Toward evening, Cheryl stopped in with more soup (\" _Everyone_ was coming in trying to give him chicken soup,\" said Jane). Cheryl thought her father looked terrible, and considered staying the night\u2014but Jane had already sent John away, and was insisting that she \"did not want anyone else around.\" Cheryl lingered for a while, but eventually complied with Jane's wishes and went back to her apartment, where she called Lisa in California. \"I'm really worried,\" she told her older sister.\n\nOver the next few hours, Jane settled into Jim's guest bedroom, but spent most of the night making tea and sitting with Jim in his bedroom as he sipped it delicately. \"We just talked,\" said Jane. \"There was no discussion of broken marriage or anything like that. We were just there together.\" None of the Henson children was surprised Jim had asked Jane to stay with him. \"He and Mom were always just really fond of each other,\" said Brian Henson. Agreed Cheryl, \"she was his best friend for so much of his life. He loved her and wanted her to be happy. He just couldn't make her happy himself.... Of course it is complicated; life is.\"\n\nAround 2:00 A.M., Jim's breathing became more labored; it hurt his abdomen to cough, and with each raspy bark he was coughing blood. Jane had finally had enough, and insisted on calling a doctor, but Jim refused. \"Just rub my back,\" he said, rolling over onto his stomach. \"Try to calm down my breathing.\" As Jane massaged Jim's back, he laughed weakly. \"Maybe I'm dying,\" he said darkly. But by 4:00 A.M., even Jim could no longer joke about his condition: his heart was racing, and he was struggling for breath. \"Okay,\" he finally told Jane. \"I'll go to the hospital\"\u2014but he made the request grudgingly. \"He really didn't want anyone else to be disturbed by his pain,\" said Jane.\n\nHowever, now that Jim was ready to go to the hospital, Jane suddenly didn't know what to do. \"We really didn't know anything _about_ hospitals,\" she said later, almost apologetically. Jim suggested she call the reliable\u2014and discreet\u2014Arthur Novell, who was managing a press event out in San Francisco that evening. While Novell never considered himself to be Jim's \"fixer,\" Jim held him in high regard as a confidant whom he could trust implicitly. \"In every family,\" said Anne Kinney wryly, \"there are some people that can _manage_ things.\" Additionally, Novell knew his way around New York and its operations with a savvy that rivaled any cabdriver or politician. If there were anyone in the Henson organization who could get Jim to a hospital quickly and quietly\u2014even all the way from San Francisco\u2014it was Novell. Jane made the call.\n\nIt was just after 1:00 A.M. in San Francisco when the phone rang in Novell's hotel suite. \"I'm here with Jim at the apartment,\" Jane blurted out immediately.\n\n\"Is everything all right?\" asked Novell.\n\n\"No,\" said Jane. \"Here's Jim.\"\n\nJim came to the phone, breathing heavily. \"I'm very sick,\" he said quietly.\n\nThe normally unflappable Novell felt the ground drop out from underneath him. \"It was so out of character for him to even utter those words,\" he said. Novell ran through several quick potential courses of action in his head, then told Jim he would make some phone calls. \"Jim, it'll be okay. I love you,\" Novell assured him.\n\nJim thickly murmured his thanks, then added quietly, \"Arthur... just look after them for me.\"\n\nNovell's eyes stung with tears. \"In the back of my head,\" he recalled later, \"I said, 'I'm losing Jim.' \"\n\nNovell's phone calls produced results almost immediately. A private car was dispatched to meet Jim in front of the Sherry-Netherland. The driver had been instructed to bring along a wheelchair to carry Jim down to the lobby, but Jim\u2014who had gotten fully dressed and cleaned up\u2014insisted on taking the elevator down nineteen floors and walking out to the car himself, even pleasantly waving to the doormen as he crawled into the backseat beside Jane. The car sped for New York Hospital on East 68th Street, less than two miles away, but the driver, unfamiliar with the layout of the hospital, pulled up at the main entrance, instead of the emergency entrance tucked between two buildings around the corner. \"We'll just get out here,\" Jim said\u2014\"Jim never wanted to put anybody out,\" said Novell\u2014and walked the half block to the emergency room where he slumped into a chair. As he was whisked away into the examination room, he raised a hand and waved weakly to Jane. \"See you later,\" he croaked, trying to smile. \"I feel like I'm in good hands.\" He was formally admitted into New York Hospital at 4:58 A.M., the morning of Tuesday, May 15.\n\nAt the time of his admission to New York Hospital, Jim's blood pressure was normal and he wasn't running a fever\u2014but his heartbeat was irregular, and preliminary blood tests showed his kidneys were failing rapidly. At 6:00 A.M., Jane called Cheryl, who arrived to find Jim on a gurney with an oxygen mask strapped to his face, and held his hand as he waited to be examined by a team of critical care specialists. By 6:30, specialists had determined Jim was suffering from severe pneumonia and kidney failure and recommended he be moved immediately to the Intensive Care Unit. Shortly thereafter, he slipped into unconsciousness.\n\nBy 8:00 A.M., Jim could only breathe with the assistance of a breathing tube; by 10:00, doctors noted that he was not responding to any stimulation at all\u2014\"no movement, no response,\" except to \"deep pain.\" The antibiotics being pumped into his system had little effect. In the five hours since entering the hospital, Jim's body had almost completely shut down. He would never regain consciousness.\n\nAt One Seventeen, phones had been ringing all morning. Cheryl had phoned both Anne Kinney and David Lazer to let them know of Jim's condition, and Lazer had sped from Long Island to the hospital, where he went into executive mode, briskly making phone calls from the pay phone outside Jim's room and displaying the calm that had made him _The Muppet Show_ 's prince regent. The first call was to Bernie Brillstein, waking the agent up in California to let him know what had happened. \"I'm here at New York Hospital,\" Lazer told Brillstein. \"Jim just came in. I just came here. He may not make it.\"\n\nBrillstein was stunned. \"You're kidding.\"\n\nIt fell to Anne Kinney, manning the phones at her desk outside Jim's third-floor office at One Seventeen, to pass the word on to employees and the Muppet performers throughout the day\u2014and their responses were much the same as Brillstein's. \"I couldn't believe it,\" said Dave Goelz. \"Jim was so vital and indestructible.\" \"I lost it. I pretty much cried myself to sleep,\" said Kevin Clash, who was so stunned he nearly wandered away from his apartment without wearing shoes. Steve Whitmire, notified in Atlanta by Frank Oz, found it \"hard to even hear it.\" Oz himself was typically blunt: \"God, it was awful.\"\n\nAnd it _was_ awful. Around noon, when physicians inserted a feeding tube into Jim's stomach, a massive amount of blood was extracted, indicating that Jim was bleeding severely in his stomach and intestines. Then, at 12:55 P.M., he went into cardiac arrest. \"It happened insanely fast,\" said John Henson, who had walked to the hospital from One Seventeen. Doctors were able to revive him, but \"they were saying he'd be a vegetable,\" said John. \"I went back to [One Seventeen] and just stared at the wall. I couldn't believe it was happening.\"\n\nThroughout the late afternoon and evening, family and a few close friends came to stand vigil outside Jim's room. After Jane, Cheryl, John, and David Lazer, Lisa, who had the farthest to go, was actually the next to arrive, having taken the first available flight from Los Angeles. All she could think about during her flight, she said later, was \"that he would want to see his grandchildren. I kept repeating, 'you want to see your grandchildren, you want to see your grandchildren,' like a mantra.... But I never even spoke to him. He was already unconscious and on life support by the time I got to see him.\" The flowers Jim had sent to celebrate her promotion were still fresh and colorful on her desk at Warner Brothers.\n\nHeather, attending school at the Rhode Island School of Design, was making her way down from Providence and would arrive late in the evening. Brian, meanwhile, had been in England working\u2014and despite scrambling to make arrangements to get to New York as soon as possible, he would arrive too late to see his father alive. Frank Oz had also come to camp in the hospital, as had Jerry Nelson, Michael Frith, and Kathy Mullen. Steve Whitmire and his wife, Melissa, who had taken the last flight from Atlanta that evening, would arrive shortly after midnight. All of them took turns sitting by Jim's bed, holding his hand and talking to him.\n\nAround 11:00 P.M., Jim's condition worsened. His blood pressure plunged, requiring physicians to administer CPR. He then went into full cardiac arrest\u2014his second heart attack in ten hours\u2014though doctors managed to revive him yet again. His chest tube was replaced with a larger one, and a second tube was inserted in his left side to increase the drainage from his lungs. With his breathing dangerously weak, he was placed on a jet ventilator to increase his oxygen intake.\n\nFinally, just after 1:00 on Wednesday morning, Jim's blood pressure bottomed out; his heart had stopped beating. A medical team rushed to his bedside to administer CPR and inserted a chest tube, which immediately gushed enormous amounts of blood and fluid, indicating massive hemorrhaging in his chest and lungs. Doctors continued applying CPR without success, then used a defibrillator to try to shock his heart into starting. Jim's body tensed, then sagged; the charge to the defibrillator was increased and tried again, three more times. Jim jerked sharply each time; more blood and fluid erupted through the tubes in his chest. Then he slumped back, and went limp.\n\nJim Henson died at 1:21 A.M. on Wednesday, May 16, 1990. He was fifty-three years old.\n\nThe official cause of death was septic shock due to group A streptococcus. Jim's organs, particularly his lungs, were so infiltrated with toxin-spewing bacteria that his internal systems had collapsed. Physicians later speculated that had Jim checked into the hospital on Monday morning, perhaps even at the time he first noticed his heart beating too fast, the antibiotics might have saved him\u2014or, perhaps not. In many cases, the toxins produced by streptococcus are so powerful that they begin deteriorating organs and tissue before patients show any outward sign of sickness. Doctors later determined that even at the time Jim checked into the hospital, an \"overwhelming infection\" had been coursing throughout his body for at least three days. \"There had already been extensive damage done,\" said Dr. David M. Gelmont, who had been the attending physician. \"It just raced quickly through his body.\"\n\nThe Henson family was summoned by doctors, who gently broke the news, then escorted the family into the room to see him. Jim \"was so bloated, he didn't even look like himself,\" said Jane. John lay across his father's body and hugged him. \"I love you, Daddy,\" he whispered, then left the room, sobbing uncontrollably. Heather, the last of the Henson children to arrive\u2014and who \"had wanted _so_ much for Jim to get through it,\" said Jane lovingly\u2014was steered gently to Jim's bedside by Jane, who put her mouth close to Heather's ear. \"Let him go,\" Jane said softly. \"Just say goodbye and let him go.\"\n\nOut in the waiting area, Oz quietly informed the others of what had happened, then he and Lazer disappeared to start making phone calls. It was hard to even cry, remembered Steve Whitmire. \"A few tears were around,\" he said, \"but everyone was just stunned. We just couldn't believe this had happened.\" Jerry Nelson sat and tried to console John, who was staring at the carpet, crying and gasping uncontrollably. \"He was really devastated,\" said Nelson. \"All the kids were.\"\n\nAll night long and into the morning, word spread through the Henson organization. Kevin Clash remembered receiving a call at 5:00 A.M. giving him the news. Dave Goelz, who caught a plane from California after learning Jim was ill, called the hospital during his layover in Chicago. \"A custodian answered,\" said Goelz. \"He said no one was around. That's when I knew Jim had died.\" _Sesame Street_ performer Fran Brill heard the news that morning from a casting director as she waited her turn to audition for a voice-over. \"My heart stopped,\" she said.\n\nBy daybreak, performers and employees began trickling into the offices at One Seventeen. \"I remember growing up, when there's a loss everybody comes to the house and you eat and you just stay around,\" said Clash. \"The offices became a house.... I remember... doing nothing else but going over to [One Seventeen] and staying there until the afternoon or early evening and then going home\u2014and doing that for five days. We couldn't do anything else.\" By late morning, every space at One Seventeen was packed with friends, colleagues, and co-workers, most of whom could do little more than try to comfort one another, hugging each other and dabbing their eyes with tissues as Muppets stared lifelessly from tables in the workshop. Jim's third-floor office, however, sat respectfully empty. \"Everybody was walking wounded,\" said Cheryl later. \"Everyone felt so close to my dad... everyone had a very intense, personal relationship with my father.\" Later, a hand-drawn card was placed on the grand piano in the townhouse's main library, a sympathy card from the Imagineers at Disney, who had loved playing in Jim's world as much as he had in theirs. On the front, a despondent Kermit the Frog sat on a log in front of a blazing sunset, a discarded banjo behind him, his head in his hands; next to him sat Mickey Mouse, with a consoling arm draped around Kermit's shoulders. No words were needed.\n\nThe Henson family had retreated to Jim's apartment\u2014dazed, shocked, and trying to rest. Several lawyers from the Henson's legal team knocked on the apartment door, wanting to discuss the impact of Jim's death on the still unsigned Disney deal\u2014an expected, though ill-timed, interruption that the recently arrived Brian Henson dealt with by listening patiently and intently as the lawyers explained their concerns. \"We were thrown into having to deal with the legal complexity before we had time to breathe much less mourn,\" remembered Cheryl. \"It was all devastating... [but Brian] was relatively clearheaded, and together with Lisa dedicated themselves to figuring it out.\" The attorneys had one other bit of business to conduct as well, handing over a sealed envelope from the law firm of Kleinberg, Kaplan, Wolff & Cohen. There were no legal documents inside, only two letters addressed to the Henson children.\n\nThey were from Jim.\n\nDated March 2, 1986, they were letters he had written during a quick weekend visit to France while mixing audio for _Labyrinth_ \u2014the same weekend, in fact, when he had written the buoyant _Muppet Voyager_ proposal for IBM Europe. Jim had filed the letters with his personal attorneys, and asked that they be delivered to his children in the event of his death. Now, suddenly\u2014remarkably\u2014in the middle of sadness and chaos, it seemed Jim was there again, calmly taking charge. \"Today I am sitting here in the lovely room of La Colombe d'Or in St. Paul de Vence,\" Jim had written, \"with lovely thoughts about life... and thinking I should write this note sometime... also of death\":\n\n_I'm not at all afraid of the thought of death, and in many ways, look forward to it with much curiosity and interest. I'm looking forward to meeting up with some of my friends who've gone on ahead of me, and I'll be waiting there to say hi to those of you [who] are still back [here]_.\n\n_Since I consider death a rather joyous step forward into the next stage of things, I'd like to lay out a few thoughts as to what might happen when I leave this place_.\n\n_I suggest you first have a nice, friendly little service of some kind, hopefully using the talents of some of the good people who have worked with me over the years. It would be nice if Richard Hunt, if he's still around, would talk and emcee the thing. It would be lovely if some of the people who sing would do a song or two, some of which should be quite happy and joyful. It would be nice if some of my close friends would say a few nice, happy words about how much we enjoyed doing this stuff together\u2014and it would be good to have some religious person read a few quotes by some of the great teachers to remind us how this is all part of what is meant to be_.\n\n_Incidentally, I'd love to have a Dixieland band play at this function and end with a rousing version of \"Saints\"..._\n\n_Have a wonderful time in life, everybody. It feels strange writing this kind of thing while I'm still alive, but it wouldn't be easy to do after I go_.\n\n_With all my love to you all_ ,  \nJIM (DAD)\n\n_(P.S. I suppose I should say a word about what happens to my old body. In truth, I don't really care. Hopefully, make as little of it as possible. One way would be to cremate and then_ _distribute the ashes somewhere pleasant.... Be sure not to waste money on an expensive casket or any of that garbage.)_\n\nSuitably directed and inspired by Jim's own words, longtime producer and collaborator Martin Baker went to work coordinating a memorial service, set for Monday, May 21, that would comply with Jim's wishes. The days immediately following Jim's death were \"a traumatic period, as you can imagine,\" said Duncan Kenworthy. \"[But] one of the things that kept us all going was the memorial service.... We had from Wednesday until Monday to pull it together.\"\n\nEveryone, it seemed, had an idea for the format and content of the memorial service. \"All these people were coming,\" remembered Jane, \"and they all wanted to do things.\" Planning the memorial, said Kenworthy, \"was a wonderful microcosm of _us_. There we were, disagreeing in many ways, having very strong views, trying not to say, 'What would Jim have done?' \" Things suddenly fell together when Jane casually suggested that they \"just let it happen like a show... a 'Jim Show.' \" \"As soon as it was said that way,\" said Jane, \"then everybody knew what they were doing. Nobody had to wonder what their part was.\"\n\nThe service, a \"celebration of Jim Henson's life in song and remembrances,\" would be open to the public\u2014a fitting decision, but one that was certain to ensure a large crowd. It was decided, then, that the memorial would be held at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York, a soaring Episcopal church on Manhattan's Upper West Side that could hold nearly five thousand. The service would be silly and sad and bright and reassuring\u2014at Jim's direction, no one was to wear black\u2014and Jane and Martin Baker met regularly with eighty-nine-year-old Episcopal bishop Paul Moore to make certain that the church would be comfortable hosting such an unconventional ceremony. \"Is this going to be all right in your church?\" Jane asked respectfully. The thoughtful, liberal Moore merely smiled warmly. \"Oh yes,\" he told them.\n\nMonday, May 21, dawned dreary and rainy in New York City. As it neared the memorial service's noon starting time, a light drizzle was still falling; the sidewalk outside the cathedral was dotted with puddles that children in yellow rain slickers splashed through as their parents led them up the steps and into the cathedral's enormous nave. As each guest entered, they were handed a long wand\u2014actually a puppeteer's arm rod\u2014with a bright foam butterfly attached at the end, one of the thousands put together by the Muppet Workshop over the last three days.\n\nInside, photos of Jim and his various creations looked down from the walls and the back of the altar; at Jane's insistence, the cathedral was filled with brightly colored flowers. As expected, the place was packed nearly full\u2014so full, in fact, that many parents sat with their children in the main aisle, their arms wrapped around stuffed Ernies or Big Birds. \"I would think all the people who work for me should be invited,\" Jim had specified in one of his letters, \"plus my relatives, friends, lovers, etc.\" And so they were\u2014Novell took particular delight in seating several of Jim's girlfriends together in the same row\u2014plus so many others. George Lucas sat among the Muppet performers and staff, as did Disney chiefs Frank Wells and Michael Eisner. (\"[Eisner] was crushed,\" said Brillstein, who had flown to New York with the Disney CEO.) Joan Ganz Cooney\u2014who said she had felt \"wasted\" in the days following Jim's death\u2014sat nearby as well, along with most of the writers and performers from _Sesame Street_.\n\nIt was the theme to _Sesame Street_ , in fact, that the audience would hear first, followed by \"Rainbow Connection,\" played on the cathedral's enormous pipe organ. The family came in next, trailing behind the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, playing a slow traditional New Orleans dirge\u2014you could take Jim out of the South, but you could never entirely take the South out of Jim. As Jim had requested, Richard Hunt\u2014already showing symptoms of the HIV virus that would take his life less than two years later\u2014acted as an informal emcee, opening the memorial by reading aloud from some of the countless letters that had poured into One Seventeen over the last five days. \"That was just amazing,\" said Kevin Clash. \"Letters from a truck driver and a little boy in Ohio or the president. It was amazing... just amazing.\"\n\nThere were plenty of other amazing moments over the next two and a half hours. Louise Gold, in the big voice that the Muppet performers loved, sang \"Bring Him Home,\" the song from _Les Mis\u00e9rables_ that Jim adored\u2014a feat that still had Fran Brill in awe decades later. \"I remember admiring Louise Gold so much for getting up and singing that beautiful song,\" said Brill, \"and thinking, 'How did she do that?' \" Gold's serenity also impressed Jerry Nelson as the two of them sang the hymnlike \"Where the River Meets the Sea,\" from _Emmet Otter_. \"I remember coming close to breaking on that,\" said Nelson. \"Louise held me together there with it.\" Harry Belafonte performed \"Turn the World Around,\" the same song he had performed so memorably on _The Muppet Show_ more than a decade earlier. As if on cue, the moment Belafonte's song ended, sunlight came streaming in through the big stained-glass windows. Foam butterflies danced and fluttered in the colored light inside the cathedral. There was an audible gasp. It was \"a sight I'll never forget,\" said one audience member.\n\nAs Jim had asked, friends said \"a few nice, happy words about how much we enjoyed doing this stuff together.\" Jerry Juhl warmly recalled how \"Jim taught us many things: to save the planet, be kind to each other, praise God, and be silly. That's how I'll remember him\u2014as a man who was balanced effortlessly and gracefully between the sacred and the silly.\" Frank Oz spoke of the joy in making Jim laugh, and of the love and care Jim had put into making and giving him an elaborate Christmas gift. Oz understood \"the generosity of [Jim's] time to do this when he was so busy.... I think that's when I knew that he loved me and I loved him.\" Breaking down, Oz left the stage in tears.\n\nAfter Oz's speech, a lone piano played a long, melodious introduction to \"Bein' Green.\" Then, from the rear of the church, came Caroll Spinney as Big Bird, wearing a Kermit-green bow tie, lumbering slowly up through the audience to the central stage, where he tearfully sang Joe Raposo's heartfelt song. \"Somehow,\" said Spinney later, \"I managed to do it without crying.\" As the final chord faded, Big Bird looked skyward. \"Thank you, Kermit,\" he said. (Brillstein, who was the next speaker, brightened the moment when he ad-libbed, \"Jim told me, 'Never follow the Bird!' \")\n\nPerhaps predictably, one of the most remarkable moments involved the Muppet performers\u2014Oz, Nelson, Goelz, Hunt, Whitmire, and Clash\u2014singing, hugging, crying, and laughing as they worked their way through a long medley of some of Jim's favorite songs. Most were the old vaudeville tunes or the songs of _Pogo_ or A. A. Milne\u2014\"Lydia, the Tattooed Lady,\" \"Cottleston Pie,\" \"Halfway Down the Stairs\"\u2014that Jim and his family had sung around the Henson family piano and had eventually found their way into _The Muppet Show_. The six performers sat on stools, without puppets, until the very end, when Richard Hunt slid Scooter onto his right arm and began singing the opening bars of \"Just One Person,\" from the 1975 musical _Snoopy_ , a song the group had first performed on _The Muppet Show_ in 1977. It was a song Jim loved, with a simple message that seemed to sum up his own joy in collaboration:\n\n_If just one person believes in you\u2014_\n\n_Deep enough, and strong enough, believes in you_ ,\n\n_Hard enough, and long enough\u2014_\n\n_Before you knew it, someone else would think:_\n\n\" _If he can do it, I can do it._ \"\n\nAt the second verse, Hunt was joined by Nelson performing Gobo, his character from _Fraggle Rock_ \u2014then, on the third verse, with Whitmire, performing Wembley. As the piano swelled into the final verse, Clash joined with Elmo, and Oz with Fozzie Bear\u2014and suddenly the stage was full of Muppet performers, standing beneath a large photograph of Jim as they waved their characters in the air and sang:\n\n_And when all those people believe in you\u2014_\n\n_Deep enough, and strong enough believe in you_ ,\n\n_Hard enough and long enough\u2014_\n\n_It stands to reason you yourself will start to see_\n\n_What everybody sees in you..._\n\n_And maybe even you_\n\n_Can believe in you, too_.\n\nStanding amid the sea of her fellow performers, Fran Brill, with her Prairie Dawn Muppet from _Sesame Street_ on her arm, was so overcome with emotion she could barely perform. \"I know I couldn't sing,\" she said later. \"I think my mouth tried to move, but I was just crying so much I could not sing.\" It didn't matter; the audience was already on its feet, cheering and crying.\n\nFinally, the Dirty Dozen Brass Band leapt into a rousing performance of \"When the Saints Go Marching In\"\u2014just as Jim had asked\u2014and \"we all marched out of the cathedral smiling, singing, crying,\" said Caroll Spinney. Jim's \"nice, friendly little service\" had been, as _Life_ magazine put it, \"an epic and almost unbearably moving event.\"\n\nSix weeks later, on July 2, 1990, a similar memorial service was held at St. Paul's Cathedral in London, where _Fraggle Rock_ writer Jocelyn Stevenson delivered one of the day's most poignant, elegant, and memorable speeches:\n\nWhen Jim left the planet so suddenly, all of us who loved him, worked with him, were inspired by him, gathered in New York City. We were like dandelion seeds clinging to the stem and to each other. And on May 16th, [the day Jim died] the wind began to blow.\n\nThere's no stem any more. We're all floating on the breeze. And it's scary and exhilarating, and there's nothing we can do about it. But gradually, we'll all drift to the ground and plant ourselves. And no matter what we grow into, it'll be influenced by Jim. We're Jim's seeds. And it's not only those of us who knew him. Everyone who was touched by his work is a Jim-seed.\n\nJim was not interred at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, nor at St. Paul's Cathedral\u2014these were memorials, not funerals. In fact, his body wasn't there at all. Four days after his death, Jim's body\u2014as he had specified\u2014was cremated at Ferncliff Cemetery crematory in Ardsley, New York. (His death certificate, to his likely delight, listed his occupation as \"Creator, Producer.\") His ashes were stored in an urn and put in the care of John Henson, perhaps the most spiritual or ethereal of the Henson children, who then spent more than a year trying to determine the most appropriate place to scatter the ashes. In one of his letters to the children, Jim had suggested \"a pretty river or freshly plowed field or the ocean,\" adding that \"the thought of burial in a pretty place also appeals to me.\" The more he thought about it, then, the more John thought he finally knew the place.\n\nSeveral years earlier, Jim and John had been driving near Taos, New Mexico, when Jim had pointed to a small cluster of foothills. \"See those hills over there?\" he asked John, smiling into the sunlight. \"I feel like I'm supposed to live there. I really feel like that's the place I'm supposed to be.\" \"I could never figure out exactly which one [of the foothills] he was talking about,\" John said later\u2014but then he remembered a bit of advice from his father. \"I try to tune myself in to whatever it is that I'm supposed to be,\" Jim had once written, \"and I try to think of myself as a part of all of us\u2014all mankind and all life.\" John thought if he and the family went out to visit the Taos area again, he might be able to \"tune in\" to the precise spot Jim had pointed out\u2014that place Jim felt he was \"supposed to be.\" They would scatter the ashes there.\n\nIn May 1992, then\u2014exactly two years after Jim's death\u2014John drove his mother and his brother and sisters through a dried-up New Mexico riverbed, scouring the mountains around Taos until he spotted an oddly shaped foothill. \"It just looked like a pyramid in the middle of nowhere,\" remembered John. The family left their SUV and began their journey across the desert toward John's pyramidal foothill, when Jane suddenly sat down on a boulder and declared she had walked far enough. John delicately reached into the urn and handed his mother a handful of Jim's ashes; then the Henson children began the slow ascent up the foothill. (Lisa later joked that she was fairly certain \"we hiked up onto somebody's personal property. I would never be able to find it again if my life depended on it.\") As they reached the top, John spotted small dark crystals scattered across the ground, glinting blue in the sunlight. \"This is it,\" he said excitedly.\n\nThe Henson children took a moment to quietly remember their father\u2014\"to make peace with ourselves,\" said John, \"and remember our time with Dad\"\u2014then threw his ashes into the warm New Mexico wind, scattering them like the delicate dandelion seeds Jocelyn Stevenson had spoken of at the London memorial service.\n\nJim Henson's physical body was gone, and yet that powerful presence\u2014that undefinable _something_ that compelled men to seek his appreciation and approval, and that women found somehow irresistible\u2014would always remain. Anyone who had ever smiled as Ernie tried to play a rhyming game with Bert, or laughed as Kermit had chased Fozzie off the stage, arms flailing, had felt it. Anyone who had ever wished they could explore a Fraggle hole, save the world with a crystal shard, or dance with a charismatic goblin king had been touched by it.\n\nIt was there now still, in the last words Jim had passed on to his children\u2014the words in the second letter he had written in his hotel room in France that day in 1986. They were words of reassurance for his children, but anyone reading them would be reminded of the power of his presence, and that \"ridiculous optimism\" that Jim infused in everything he did and in every life he touched. For the last time, then, with his own words ringing happily, almost audibly, from the page, Jim stepped calmly into the center of a hurricane of sadness and uncertainty to assure his children that everything was going to be all right. The presence was still there. Just like Kermit. Just like always:\n\n_First of all, please don't feel bad that I'm gone. While I will miss spending time with each of you, I'm sure it will be an interesting time for me, and I look forward to seeing all of you when you come over_....\n\n_I feel life has been a joy for me\u2014I certainly hope it is for you.... Life is meant to be fun, and joyous, and fulfilling. May each of yours be that\u2014having each of you as a child of mine has certainly been one of the good things in my life. Know that I've always loved each of you with an eternal, bottomless love. A love that has nothing to do with each other, for I feel my love for each of you is total and all-encompassing. This all may sound silly and over the top to you guys, but what the hell, I'm gone and who can argue with me?_\n\n_... To each of you I send my love. If, on this side of life, I'm able to watch over and help you out\u2014know that I will. If I can't, I'm sure I can at least be waiting for you when you come over_.\n\nAnd finally, for his children, and for anyone touched by his life, his work, or his extraordinary imagination\u2014those _Jim-seeds_ that Jocelyn Stevenson had spoken of so lovingly\u2014Jim offered a final benediction:\n\n_Please watch out for each other and love and forgive everybody. It's a good life, enjoy it_.\n\n_Love_ ,  \nJIM\n\n# **EPILOGUE**\n\n#\n\n# **LEGACY**\n\n(photo credit epl.1)\n\nIN THE END, THE WALT DISNEY COMPANY WOULD END UP OWNING THE Muppets\u2014but it would take nearly fifteen years to get them. In the weeks and months following Jim's May 1990 death, negotiations between the two companies intensified\u2014Disney CEO Michael Eisner even vowed to Bernie Brillstein that he was \"gonna make this deal go through and happen in memory of Jim\"\u2014but discussions, and relations, eroded rapidly. With Jim no longer there to be the \"creative vitality\" acquired in the deal, Disney went looking for other assets within the Henson organization, and began sniffing around the _Sesame Street_ Muppets again. This time, it was the Henson children who held firm; _Sesame Street_ was still a nonstarter. Negotiations continued into the winter, but with no resolution. In December 1990, both sides walked away.\n\nUltimately, what scuttled the agreement was not the fact that Disney was no longer getting Jim in the deal\u2014nor was it because Disney was trying to roll the _Sesame Street_ Muppets into the transaction. Rather, it was \"death and taxes,\" related Henson attorney Peter Schube. Jim's death and the subsequent, staggering estate taxes put both sides in such a complicated and untenable position that neither could make the deal work to anyone's benefit. Just as critically, the tone of the discussions\u2014always important to Jim\u2014had become toxic. While there would be a tight-lipped agreement that would allow Disney to complete and retain _Muppet*Vision 3D_ , the excitement, the camaraderie Jim relished, was gone. \"It finally became a situation where there was not enough joy left in the transaction for anybody,\" said Schube. \"There was no joy left in it for Disney and there was not enough joy left in it for the family.\"\n\nAnd so the deal evaporated\u2014and with it The List. Although there were some who grumbled\u2014a few people had even made some expensive purchases in anticipation of the expected windfall\u2014most felt as Bernie Brillstein did: \"Believe me,\" said the agent, \"I'd have gladly given up the money to have him back.\"\n\nThe company, and the Muppets, remained in the control of the Henson children for the next decade, while Kermit the Frog was, quite literally, put in the able hands of Muppet veteran Steve Whitmire. With Brian Henson at the helm\u2014joined later by Lisa\u2014The Jim Henson Company, as it would finally come to be called, continued to produce noteworthy Muppet films and specials\u2014many with the help of the Walt Disney Company\u2014and expanded into children's television, but it was becoming \"harder and harder for independent companies like ours,\" said Brian Henson\u2014and in 2000, the company, including its _Sesame Street_ assets, was sold to EM.TV & Merchandising, a German media group. Over the next three years, however, EM.TV's stock soured, and by 2003, the Hensons were able to buy their own company back again\u2014minus the _Sesame Street_ Muppets, which EM.TV had sold to CTW (now Sesame Workshop), the \"natural home for those characters,\" said Lisa.\n\nFinally, in February 2004, the Muppets were sold to Disney. While The Jim Henson Company would hold on to the Creature Shop, the Fraggles, _Labyrinth_ , and _The Dark Crystal_ , the Muppets were finally with Disney\u2014just where Jim had wanted them. \"We are honored that the Henson family has agreed to pass on to us the stewardship of these cherished assets,\" said Michael Eisner.\n\nThe Muppet legacy was secure\u2014and Jim Henson's own legacy seems to grow with each passing year, as each generation comes to discover\u2014and in some cases rediscover\u2014Jim and his work and claim both as their own. The first generation of children raised with Grover and _Sesame Street_ grew up and raised their own children on the same familiar street with the old familiar friends. _The Dark Crystal_ and _Labyrinth_ \u2014as Jim had known they would all along\u2014found wide and devoted audiences, who savor and appreciate the films with the same adoration and intensity Jim put into making them. And the Muppets themselves\u2014successfully and lovingly returned to the movie screen by Disney in 2011\u2014only continue to grow brighter, more colorful, and more beloved.\n\nJim Henson's legacy, however, will always be more than merely Muppets. In 1993, Jane Henson founded the nonprofit Jim Henson Legacy, a tribute celebrating Jim's countless contributions to the worlds of puppetry, television, motion pictures, special effects, and media technology. Still, Jim's legacy extends beyond those creative efforts\u2014even beyond the foundation he established to promote the art of puppetry, still running strong today.\n\nSimply, Jim Henson's greatest legacy will always be Jim himself: the way he was, and the way he encouraged and inspired others to be\u2014the simple grace and soft-spoken dignity he brought to the world (and expected, sometimes fruitlessly, of others), as well as his faith in a greater good that he believed he and his fellow inhabitants of the globe were capable of. \"Jim inspired people to be better than they thought they could be,\" said Bernie Brillstein warmly, \"and more creative, more daring, more outrageous, and ultimately more successful. And he did it all without raising his voice.\"\n\nIn show business in particular, where so much depends on the ruthless art of the deal, Jim's generosity and genuine respect for talent\u2014as well as that faint aura of Southern gentleman that always seemed to linger about him\u2014made for an unconventional way of doing business. \"In this industry, people love you because you have something to give them, and they stop loving you if they feel that they don't have any more they need from you,\" said _Storyteller_ writer Anthony Minghella. \"With Jim, there was never any suspicion that his affection was predicated on what he might be able to take from you.\" Muppet performer Jerry Nelson thought there was a quiet majesty in the way Jim lived and worked. \"I see Jim's life as a very Zen kind of thing,\" said Nelson. \"I never heard him say rude or bad things about other people. He lived, I think, by example. To show other people how to be by who you are.\"\n\nSometimes, said writer Jerry Juhl, Jim set that example by appreciating life's absurdities. \"Jim had a sense of humor that just sorted out life,\" said Juhl. \"And, you know, too much of life for most people is involved in picking what are really fairly petty things and turning them into deep tragedies and horrible melodramas. Jim always cut through that.\" Even in business, \"he could integrate play into the process,\" said Dave Goelz. \"As a parent, one of my goals is to see whether I can raise my children to survive in the world without losing that childlike innocence, trust, optimism, curiosity and decency. I am certain it is possible, because Jim was the living embodiment of it.\" Indeed, it was that ridiculous optimism\u2014that ability to look at life through a lens that seemed to bring out the brightest colors in nearly everything\u2014that _Sesame Street_ performer Fran Brill wanted to emulate in her own life as well. \"Even today, many, many years later, if I'm in a difficult position, I say to myself, 'How would Jim have handled this?' \" said Brill. \"I just felt like if I tried to handle things the way he did, it might be easier to get through life sometimes.\"\n\nWhile Jim's positive demeanor was exceptional, his talent remains extraordinary, and his imagination explosive\u2014sometimes literally. \"He was a creatively restless individual always looking for something new,\" said Lisa Henson. \"Not just a new project, but a new way of _achieving_ a project. He rarely repeated himself. It was not interesting to him to keep doing the same thing.\" Brian Henson admired his father's \"mind-set\"\u2014a work ethic that valued both creativity and collaboration. \"That's probably what he taught me more than anything,\" said Brian. \"I learned from him to be very, very prepared and then very, very flexible\u2014to know exactly what you're going to do, until somebody has another idea... because that's the way to work, you know.\"\n\nAs longtime collaborator and _Sesame Street_ head writer Jon Stone put it, \"Jim didn't think in terms of boundaries at all, the way all the rest of us do. There are always these fences we build around ourselves and our ideas. Jim seemed to have no fences.\"\n\nHis energy and enthusiasm\u2014his sheer joy in his work\u2014were boundless as well. \"I often tell people... 'if you think it's fun to watch these things,' \" said Muppet designer Bonnie Erickson, \" 'you should have been there _making_ them.' \" Jim's excitement, said Minghella, was \"so overpowering, you could just tell he was a man who had not lost an ounce of enthusiasm for anything he was doing.\" Frank Oz thought it was more than just enthusiasm; he called Jim \"an extraordinary appreciator\":\n\nMany people see Jim as an extraordinary creator; I realize that I see Jim first as an appreciator. He appreciated so much. He loved London. He loved walking on the Heath.... He appreciated his family and his colleagues and his Muppet family. And he appreciated the performances and design of a puppet. He appreciated the art objects that he might buy. He appreciated the detail in a Persian rug. He appreciated... just beauty. I really don't believe that Jim could have been such an extraordinary creator if he hadn't been such an extraordinary appreciator.\n\nPerhaps more than anything, however, it was that sense of purpose, that basic decency, that made Jim and his life and work so remarkable\u2014and makes it just as remarkable today. \"Underneath the zaniness, or perhaps standing next to it, there was a sense of decency that the characters had about the world and to each other,\" said Jerry Juhl. \"That's one of the real legacies that Jim left. I think it's one of the reasons he's so loved today, because he could be a pop culture figure doing mass entertainment, and he could explore the edges of crazy, goofy comedy. But at the core, there was always a sense of social values and decency.\" As creative consultant Alex\n\nRockwell remembered, \"He often started from the position of, 'Let's do something that's going to make the world a better place.'... The work was always about fun and creativity and inventiveness, but he really cared in a genuine way that it also had a value system.\"\n\nAlways, then, the work had to matter\u2014because to Jim, the _world_ mattered. \"I know that it's easier to portray a world that's filled with cynicism and anger, where problems are solved with violence,\" Jim once said. \"What's a whole lot tougher is to offer alternatives, to present other ways conflicts can be resolved, and to show that you can have a positive impact on your world. To do that, you have to put yourself out on a limb, take chances, and run the risk of being called a do-gooder.\"\n\nJim was always willing to take that risk, thought Richard Hunt. \"He wasn't a saint, but he was as close as human beings get to it.\" That had made Jim's passing so much harder\u2014and yet, said Hunt, \"part of me feels... that Jim had done his work on earth.... He had done an amazing amount of work. He'd given an amazing amount of himself, and in turn to each person who was affected by him.\"\n\nIn her New York apartment, Cheryl Henson still keeps a small photograph of her father, taken during his years in London while working on _Labyrinth_. In the photo, Jim is walking away from the camera, clutching a walking stick as he strides up a path toward Hampstead Heath\u2014perhaps headed out to one of the Bunny Picnics he so adored. With a blanket tucked casually under one arm, he is relaxed and carefree, looking happily up the hill in front of him with no intention of looking back. \"That's how I think of my dad after he died,\" said Cheryl. \"It was time for him to go. He's going off on his own.\"\n\n\"We all have jobs,\" said Richard Hunt, \"and he'd done his. He'd done it well.\" What Jim Henson did so well was always more than just Muppets. It was more than Fraggles or Gelflings or goblin kings. Like Jim himself, what Jim did was wonderfully complex, though not complicated\u2014and elegant in its simplicity. \"When I was young,\" wrote Jim, \"my ambition was to be one of the people who makes a difference in this world. My hope still is to leave this world a little bit better for my being here.\"\n\nAnd he did.\n\n_\"Jimmy Henson\" as an elementary school student in Leland, Mississippi, in 1946_.  \n _\"I was a Mississippi Tom Sawyer,\" Jim said_.\n\n(COURTESY OF HENSON FAMILY PROPERTIES)\n\n_Betty and Paul Henson, Sr., with sons Jim (center) and Paul Jr., circa 1940_.\n\n(COURTESY OF HENSON FAMILY PROPERTIES)\n\n_All in a day's play: a young Jim\u2014swaddled in a makeshift turban and robe\u2014attempts to snake-charm a garden hose_.\n\n(COURTESY OF HENSON FAMILY PROPERTIES)\n\n_Jim credited family gatherings at the dinner table\u2014like this one in 1956\u2014with shaping his sense of humor. \"There was so much laughter,\" he recalled, \"because everyone was always telling jokes and saying funny things.\" From left: Jim's aunts Attie and Bobby, Uncle Jinx (with back to camera), Jim's grandmother \"Dear,\" Paul Sr., unidentified, Jim, and Betty Henson_.\n\n(COURTESY OF HENSON FAMILY PROPERTIES)\n\n_Jim was nineteen when his brother, Paul Henson, Jr., a navy ensign (shown at right in 1953), was killed in an automobile accident at age twenty-three. The effect on Jim, recalled Frank Oz, was profound. \"He realized that he just didn't have an infinite amount of time to do all the things he wanted to do.\"_\n\n(COURTESY OF HENSON FAMILY PROPERTIES)\n\n_The birthplace of the Muppets: Jim in front of the Henson home on Beechwood Road in Hyattsville, Maryland, in 1956_.\n\n(COURTESY OF HENSON FAMILY PROPERTIES)\n\n_Jim's sketches of Kermit and Sam, 1960_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. MUPPETS \u00a9 DISNEY)\n\n_Jim touches up the paint on Kermit's mouth. Made from Betty Henson's milky-blue coat, with Ping-Pong balls for eyes, the eventual star of the Muppet realm was only an abstract thing, and not yet a frog_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. KERMIT THE FROG \u00a9 DISNEY)\n\n_Jim and Jane Nebel\u2014first his performing partner and later his wife\u2014with Sam, Kermit, and Yorick. The enormously popular_ Sam and Friends _earned Jim his first Emmy at the age of twenty-one_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. MUPPETS \u00a9 DISNEY)\n\n_Newlyweds Jim and Jane Henson dance as Jim's mother plays the piano. Betty Henson had insisted her son shave off his new beard for the wedding_.\n\n(COURTESY OF HENSON FAMILY PROPERTIES. PHOTO: DEL ANKERS)\n\n_Jim on the day of his graduation from the University of Maryland in 1960. The enormous success of_ Sam and Friends _made it possible for Jim to drive to the ceremony in his own Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud_.\n\n(COURTESY OF HENSON FAMILY PROPERTIES)\n\n_Family affair: Jim, adjusting Limbo, checks on Jane as she tends to both Sam and daughter Lisa, the first of the Hensons' five children_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. MUPPETS \u00a9 DISNEY. PHOTO: DEL ANKERS)\n\n_Jim\u2014in a typical position\u2014works from his Eames chair in the first Muppets, Inc., offices, located over a nightclub on East 53rd Street in New York in the early 1960s. \"[Our] spaces never looked like offices,\" said Muppet writer Jerry Juhl_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY)\n\n_The first three employees of Muppets, Inc. Left to right: performer\/writer Jerry Juhl, performer Jerry Nelson, and Muppet designer\/builder Don Sahlin_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: DEL ANKERS)\n\n_While a brilliant performer, Jim was equally as talented behind the camera\u2014and spent much of the 1960s in the director's chair, overseeing everything from ten-second commercials to hourlong television specials_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: DEL ANKERS)\n\n_Frank Oz was nineteen years old and just out of high school when he joined Muppets, Inc., in 1963 and was given the job of \"right-handing\" as Jim performed Rowlf the Dog on_ The Jimmy Dean Show. _It was the beginning of one of the finest, and funniest, creative partnerships in entertainment_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. MUPPETS \u00a9 DISNEY. PHOTO: DEL ANKERS)\n\n_Jim soars across the screen in his 1965 Academy Award\u2013nominated short film_ Time Piece. _\"Back in the sixties... I thought of myself as an experimental filmmaker,\" Jim said. \"[Those films] didn't have that commercial success, but that didn't particularly frustrate me because I enjoyed it.\"_\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY)\n\n_Jim's Muppets were pivotal to the success of_ Sesame Street, _making the educational show an overnight sensation and an American institution. Jim was fiercely devoted to the show, and he and Frank Oz (shown here in 1969) would regularly perform Ernie and Bert together until Jim's death_.\n\n(COURTESY OF SESAME WORKSHOP)\n\n_A manic Muppet monster devours a machine in one of Jim's short films for IBM from the late 1960s. The monster would be defanged and used again as_ Sesame Street _'s ravenous Cookie Monster_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. MUPPETS \u00a9 DISNEY)\n\n_Jim with_ Sesame Street _co-creator Joan Ganz Cooney in the 1980s_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: MATTHEW MAURO)\n\n_The Henson family in the late 1970s. Left to right: Cheryl, Jane, Brian, Jim (with Heather on shoulders), John, and Lisa_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: NANCY MORAN)\n\n_Jim at the editing table in 1972 as performer John Lovelady, designer Bonnie Erickson, builder Faz Fazakas, and designer Don Sahlin look on_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY)\n\n_Attorney Al Gottesman deftly negotiated the profit-sharing deal that divvied up the millions from_ Sesame Street _merchandising between Henson Associates and Children's Television Workshop. Gottesman became one of Jim's most valued legal advisors_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: JOHN E. BARRETT)\n\n_Jim's hand-drawn cover to one of his earliest proposals for_ The Muppet Show, _from the late 1960s_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. MUPPETS \u00a9 DISNEY)\n\n_Lord Lew Grade (second from right, with wife Kathie, David Lazer, and Jim) believed in Jim and the Muppets from the very beginning and ensured that Jim had the resources he needed to make_ The Muppet Show _successful. With a budget of $125,000 per episode, it was one of the most expensive syndicated shows of its day_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY)\n\n_Jim's beloved Kermit-green Lotus, a gift from Lord Grade_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. KERMIT THE FROG \u00a9 DISNEY)\n\n_Writer Jerry Juhl was one of Jim's most important and trusted creative collaborators. Starting in the 1960s, Juhl guided the Muppets from television to the movie screen and played a critical role in countless projects, including the development of_ Fraggle Rock.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY)\n\n_Jim and Jane at a formal dinner honoring Lord Grade in London. While their relationship had always been a true creative partnership, differing priorities\u2014and vastly different communication styles\u2014would eventually fracture their marriage_.\n\n(COURTESY OF HENSON FAMILY PROPERTIES)\n\n_Filming the Muppets was both a high- and low-tech creative endeavor. Above, Jim, always the gadget freak, performs Kermit remotely with the help of a waldo, while below, he performs on his back while being pushed on a rolling cart_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. KERMIT THE FROG \u00a9 DISNEY)\n\nThe Dark Crystal _(1982) was Jim's most ambitious project to date, a richly designed universe requiring complicated and physically demanding puppetry. Here Jim and performer Kathy Mullen bend and squeeze themselves out of camerashot as they perform Jen and Kira, the film's heroes_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: MURRAY CLOSE)\n\n_Jim and the cast of_ Fraggle Rock. _Airing on HBO from 1983 to 1987, the show was the network's first original series\u2014the colorful ancestor to shows like_ The Sopranos _and_ Game of Thrones.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: JOHN E. BARRETT)\n\n_Creative director Michael Frith was one of Jim's most versatile and brilliant collaborators, influencing everything from puppet design and publishing to_ Muppet Babies _and Disney rides. He would play a key role in shaping the world of_ Fraggle Rock.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: STAR BLACK)\n\n_Jim with the intentionally monstrous cast of 1985's_ Dreamchild, _an outside project that helped launch the successful and highly respected Creature Shop in London_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY)\n\n_Jim loved performing the sage Cantus on the set of_ Fraggle Rock. _\"[Cantus] was great,\" said one_ Fraggle _writer, \"because he was goofy and wise at the same time, kind of like Jim.\"_\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: FRED PHIPPS)\n\n_Jim on the set of_ Labyrinth _with executive producer George Lucas in 1985. \"We were very much alike,\" said Lucas. \"Independent, out of the spotlight, obsessed with our own films.\"_\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY)\n\n_Brian Froud (left) with_ Labyrinth _writer (and Monty Python member) Terry Jones. Jim loved Froud's bold artistic sense, which forged the look of both_ The Dark Crystal _and_ Labyrinth.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY)\n\n_Jim with David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly on the set of_ Labyrinth _in 1985. The movie was, according to Jane, \"absolutely the closest project to him,\" and he was devastated by its failure at the box office_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: JOHN BROWN)\n\n_Agent Bernie Brillstein, Jim, and actor John Hurt, in full makeup, on the set of_ The Storyteller. _Though low-rated, the sumptuously produced TV series was a critical hit and won Jim another Emmy_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY.)\n\n_Twenty-three-year-old Brian Henson performed the dog on_ The Storyteller, _one of many projects in which Jim and the Henson children would perform or participate. \"One of the best ways for us to be around him,\" said daughter Cheryl, \"was to work with him.\"_\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY.)\n\n_Happiness: Jim plays with breadsticks over dinner. \"Jim really used his hands,\" said Mary Ann Cleary. \"They were very powerful and present... a puppeteer's hands.\"_\n\n(PHOTOS BY AND COURTESY OF MARY ANN CLEARY)\n\n_Jim on vacation with Mary Ann in France. It was his first real relationship since his separation from Jane_.\n\n(PHOTO BY AND COURTESY OF MARY ANN CLEARY)\n\n_The major Muppet performers, on the steps of the circular staircase at One Seventeen in 1989. Clockwise from bottom center: Jim, Frank Oz, Dave Goelz, Richard Hunt, Steve Whitmire, and Jerry Nelson_.\n\n(COURTESY OF THE JIM HENSON COMPANY. PHOTO: RICHARD TERMINE)\n_For Barb and Madi_\n\n# **ACKNOWLEDGMENTS**\n\n#\n\nEvery biographer has the unique privilege and responsibility of living with their subject\u2014and their subject's family, friends, colleagues, and co-workers\u2014during the course of researching and writing about their life. It has been my great good fortune, then, as I wrote about a truly extraordinary life, to spend five years with some very remarkable people.\n\nFirst and most important, this project would never have been possible without the gracious support and encouragement of the Henson family: Jane, Lisa, Cheryl, Brian, John, and Heather Henson. Enthusiastic as well as endlessly patient, all six were generous with their time and genuinely thoughtful, reflective\u2014and, as you might expect, _funny_ \u2014during our countless interview sessions, emails, and phone conversations. They also kindly assisted me in reaching out to other performers, employees, friends, and family members whose input was critical to this book. It has been my privilege to have Jim's family directly involved with this book, and to have them share their stories and memories with me. Jane Henson's death in April 2013 after a courageous fight with cancer was a genuine loss, and I'm so grateful for the time I spent with her, tape recorder rolling, to talk about Jim's life and her own. I'll miss her. A lot.\n\nI also miss Jim Henson, and want to thank him, wherever he is (and he was always certain he'd be _somewhere_ ) for the pleasure of working on this project. While it may sound goopy and New Agey, there really were times when I sincerely felt his presence as I turned over page after page of his handwritten notes, touched his personal leather-bound copy of a script, or even watched someone's face light up as they recalled a memory of working with him or making him laugh. I wouldn't presume to say he was guiding this project, but he really did seem to somehow always be there, calmly guiding, inspiring, and making everything better. Thanks, Jim.\n\nThe Jim Henson Legacy\u2014an organization established in 1993 by Jane Henson with Al Gottesman, Arthur Novell, and Dick Wedemeyer to preserve and perpetuate Jim's countless contributions to puppetry, film, special effects, and culture\u2014also provided invaluable support and critical guidance. My deepest thanks go to the inimitable Arthur Novell\u2014if this book can be said to have a spiritual father, he's it\u2014whose advice, keen instincts, and sense of humor could always be counted on. Al Gottesman, attorney extraordinaire, ran the traps necessary to grant me access to countless unseen documents, and provided critical insight into the inner workings of Jim's company; meanwhile, the good-humored Bonnie Erickson guided me not only through Henson history, but also gave me a crash course in the art and craft of designing and making Muppets.\n\nA mere \"thank you\" hardly seems adequate to express my appreciation for the enthusiasm and very thorough support I received from Karen Falk, archivist for The Jim Henson Company\u2014the company's official name since 1997\u2014at its Long Island City facility. Talented, infinitely patient, and hugely organized\u2014she can find _anything_ quickly\u2014Karen not only helped me pore through the archives, but also gamely helped lug archival boxes, change copier paper, and track down photo credits. She also allowed me to barrage her with emails at all hours of the day, and always responded quickly and thoroughly. You're the greatest, Karen.\n\nI'd also like to thank the staffs at The Jim Henson Legacy and The Jim Henson Company, who not only provided invaluable assistance, but graciously allowed me to share their space and get in their way as they worked. In particular, I'd like to extend a special thanks to Gigi Bewabi, Rhoda Cosme, Carla Dellavedova, Nicole Goldman, Ashley Griffis, Joe Henderson, Hillary Howell, Jill Peterson, Peter Schube, Craig Shemin, and Nathaniel Wharton.\n\nOne of the real thrills of this book was meeting and talking with the Muppet performers and creative staff. I am especially indebted to Jim's closest friend and collaborator, Frank Oz, who graciously made himself freely available to me not only in person, but also enthusiastically (and usually hilariously) responded to countless emails and phone calls asking for \"just _one_ more minute\" to answer a question. I'm deeply saddened by the loss of performer Jerry Nelson, who passed away in late 2012 as this book was being completed, but I'm extremely grateful for the time I had with him at his home in Cape Cod, and thank his wife, Jan, for sharing him. I also appreciate the time I was given by Dave Goelz and Steve Whitmire, not only for their insights and perspectives, but also because they allowed me the pleasure of watching them perform on-set (and my thanks to the members of OK Go, who also permitted me to be there). I'm also very thankful for the time, courtesy, and insights I received from the wonderful and talented Martin Baker, Diana Birkenfield (whom we also lost in 2012), Fran Brill, Christopher Cerf, Kevin Clash, Michael Frith, Brian and Wendy Froud, Louise Gold, Peter Harris, Susan Juhl, Duncan Kenworthy, Rollie Krewson, Larry Mirkin, Kathy Mullen, David Odell, Bob Payne, Alex Rockwell, and Jocelyn Stevenson. I also appreciate the courtesy extended by the families of Bernie Brillstein, Richard Hunt, Jerry Juhl, and Anthony Minghella, all of whom graciously permitted me to use unpublished archival interviews conducted by others.\n\nFurther, I am grateful to the following for their time, courtesy, assistance, expertise, and\/or insights: Tommy and Barbara Baggette, Bob Bell, Stephen Christy, Mary Ann Cleary, Joan Ganz Cooney, Mark Evanier, Christopher Finch, Royall Frazier, Stan and Hunter Freberg, Judy Harris, Joe Irwin, Dr. Stanley and Tomma Jenkins, Gordon E. Jones, Mac McGarry, Ken Plume, Nick Raposo, Lynnie Raybuck, Jessica Max Stein, and Susan Whitaker. For background on Leland, Hyattsville, and Jim's family and ancestry, I am indebted to Dot Love Turk, Daryl Lewis, Jody Stovell, Rick Williams, Sr., the Hyattsville Preservation Society, Colleen Formby at the Hyattsville Library, Sarah Moseley, Mayor John Brunner, Iowa State University archivist Michele Christian, and Vin Novara and Anne Turkos at the University of Maryland. For their assistance with images and other archival matters, my sincere thanks to Susan Tofte and Jennifer Wendell at Sesame Workshop, Madlyn Moskowitz and Tina Mills at Lucasfilm, and Debbie McClellan and her team at Disney. At the Center for Puppetry Arts in Atlanta, Vincent Anthony, Jeremy Underwood, Brad Clark, Liz Lee, and Meghan Fuller were exceptionally helpful.\n\nI also want to acknowledge a few members of the Henson family who made me feel welcome as I took the time of another family member: Lisa Henson's husband, David Pressler, and their children, Julian and Ginger; Cheryl Henson's husband, Ed Finn, and their children, Elizabeth and Declan; and John Henson's wife, Gyongyi, and their children, Sydney and Katrina. Thanks for your patience and courtesy.\n\nI also want to extend my appreciation to Eric Burns, Edward Crapol, Christoph Irmscher, Kate Eagen Johnson, and Ted Widmer (all of whom know why), as well as Jill Schwartzman, Brian Shirey, and Charles J. Shields\u2014who _also_ all know why.\n\nAt Random House, I am particularly thankful for my editor, Ryan Doherty, whose enthusiasm for this project was truly inspirational, and whose guidance and editorial talent helped make this book better and clearer. I also appreciate the support of Richard Callison and Jennifer Tung, and the talents of David Moench and Quinne Rogers. The copyediting team of Frederick Chase and Beth Pearson went above and beyond in keeping this book as clean and free of mistakes as possible. Any errors or inaccuracies in this book remain mine and mine alone.\n\nA very special thank-you to my agent, Jonathan Lyons, whose expertise helped guide this book through its fledgling state, and who still guides and encourages me to this day. He and his wife, Cameron, made me feel like one of the family during my countless trips to New York, and I am grateful for their personal and professional friendship.\n\nOn a personal note, I am thankful for the family, friends, and colleagues who encouraged and supported me during the five years I was at work on this dream project, who always asked, \"How are things going?\" and understood when I had to decline invitations with, \"I can't; I'm writing.\" My deepest thanks, then, to my parents, Larry Jones and Elaine and Wayne Miller, and my awesome, Muppet-loving brother, Cris. My warmest appreciation to Mike and Cassie Knapp, Frank and Jane Schwartz, Dave and Trish English, Joe and Angie Marella, Raice and Liselle McLeod, Dave and Gail Noren, Mike and Marron Lee Nelson, Daniela Moya-Geber, Carmen Berrios, Nancy Aldous, and Joyce Fuhrmann.\n\nFinally, none of what you now hold in your hands could have been accomplished without the love and support of the two most important people in the world to me\u2013my wife, Barb, and our daughter, Madi. Their enthusiasm and excitement for this project\u2014even as I disappeared downstairs into my office to write for days and weeks on end\u2014made missing family dinners or weekend volleyball tournaments a bit more bearable. More important, their love and laughter always gave me something warm and wonderful to come up the stairs to each evening. Barb and Madi\u2014and yes, even Grayson the dog\u2014this is your book, too, for I couldn't have done it without you. I love you guys. Now get the dog off the couch.\n\n_\u2014Damascus, Maryland, February 2013_\n\n# NOTES\n\n#\n\nSeveral frequently cited names and sources appear in these notes in shortened form, including on first reference. A key appears below, but a few sources merit special mention.\n\nFirst, much of the research for this book was conducted in the private archives of The Jim Henson Company in Long Island City, New York. Most referenced materials from these archives are denoted with the prefix JHCA and some sort of a short identifying tag\u2014usually indicating a folder or, in some cases, an archival box\u2014in accordance with the archive's internal filing system. Additionally, a number of private materials\u2014which do not reside in the company's archives\u2014were graciously provided for my usage by the Henson family, through their counsel. These items are denoted as \"Henson Family Properties.\"\n\nOne of the most helpful documents in the archives is the private journal of Jim's that he began in 1965, in which he would note key dates and events in his life. This journal, with a striped red cover on which he inked the words \"THE MUPPETS,\" has since come to be called \"Jim's Red Book.\" It will hereafter be cited as \"JH RB\" in these pages.\n\nJim Henson rarely sat for extensive interviews, but one of the best was conducted by Judy Harris, whose complete, unpublished 1982 interview can be retrieved on her website at http:\/\/\u200busers.\u200bbestweb.\u200bnet\/~foosie\/\u200bhenson.\u200bhtm. I am very grateful to Judy for permitting me to quote freely from this interview, which is cited in these notes as \"Harris.\" Additionally, in the mid-1980s, Jim again permitted himself to be interviewed at length\u2014likely by author Christopher Finch, though memories are hazy\u2014and then had his answers transcribed into a twenty-three-page document filed in the archives as \"Jim Henson Quotes.\" This document will be cited as \"JH Quotes.\"\n\nFinally, two of the most important books on Jim Henson and his work are Christopher Finch's 1993 _Jim Henson: The Works, the Art, the Magic, the Imagination_ and his 1981 _Of Muppets and Men: The Making of The Muppet Show_ (see the Selected Bibliography). Finch's books contain not only valuable information but also provide crucial firsthand accounts of Jim and the Muppet performers at work. These books are cited in these notes as _WAMI_ and _OMAM_ , respectively.\n\nUnless otherwise indicated, interviews were conducted by the author.\n\n**K EY TO SHORTENED OR ABBREVIATED NAMES AND SOURCES**\n\nBB = Bernie Brillstein\n\n_Being Green_ = Jim Henson and the Muppets and Friends, _It's Not Easy_\n\n_Being Green (And Other Things to Consider)_\n\nBH = Brian Henson\n\nCH = Cheryl Henson\n\nDL = David Lazer\n\nFO = Frank Oz\n\nHarris = Jim Henson interview with Judy Harris, 1982\n\nJH = Jim Henson\n\nJHCA = Jim Henson Company archives\n\nJH Quotes = \"Jim Henson Quotes\" (JHCA family box)\n\nJH RB = Jim Henson's Red Book (JHCA 9177)\n\nJJ = Jerry Juhl\n\nJS = Jon Stone\n\nLH = Lisa Henson\n\nOMAM = Christopher Finch, _Of Muppets and Men: The Making of The Muppet Show_\n\nWAMI = Christopher Finch, _Jim Henson: The Works, the Art, the Magic, the Imagination_\n\n## **C HAPTER ONE: THE DELTA**\n\n **The town of Leland** Dorothy Love Turk, _Leland, Mississippi: From Hellhole to Beauty Spot_ (Leland Historical Foundation, 1986), 3\u201312.\n\n **In 1904** Amy Lipe Taylor, _The Delta Branch Experiment Station: 100 Years of Agricultural Research_ (Mississippi State University, 2004), 13.\n\n **One of Jim's favorite family stories** The author is grateful to the Henson family, through Henson Family Properties, for providing audio recordings of Jim interviewing Betty and Paul Henson, Sr., on August 6, 1972, and Mary Ann Jenkins, Bobby Henson, and Paul Henson, Sr., on Deccember 30, 1981. Unless otherwise noted, these recordings served as this chapter's primary source of quotes and stories regarding Jim Henson's ancestry (hereafter cited as \"JH audio interviews\").\n\n **Albert and Effie would eventually settle** The Twelfth Census of the United States (1900) shows the Hensons living in the township of South Wichita, Lincoln County, Oklahoma.\n\n **Over the next four years** Paul Henson's 1928 thesis was titled \"Yield Studies of Seventy-Five Hybrid Strains of Soybeans.\" The author is grateful to Iowa State University for providing a copy of this document.\n\n **One afternoon, while eating his lunch** Tomma S. Jenkins, email to Heather Henson, September 9, 1998.\n\n **Oscar Hinrichs** Rick Williams and Rosanne Butler, \"Journals of a Confederate Mapmaker,\" Boston Map Society newsletter 18 (October 2006). See also Rosanne Butler, \"Information About Oscar Hinrichs and Family,\" December 2006 (JHCA 20028).\n\n **Less than a year later** Hinrichs's suicide note was published in the September 25, 1892, _Washington Post_ as \"A Strange Document.\"\n\n **Born in Kentucky** See Twelfth Census of the United States for Jefferson County, Kentucky.\n\n **For the next few years** The Thirteenth Census of the United States (1910) shows the Browns\u2014including Mary Agnes and Betty\u2014living in Memphis City, Shelby County, Tennessee, where Maury's profession is listed as \"chief clerk, railroad office.\" In 1920, the Browns\u2014now including youngest daughter Bobby\u2014were in New Orleans, while the Fifteenth Census (1930) puts them in Hyattsville, Maryland.\n\n **\"I just thought we had the happiest home\"** JH audio interviews.\n\n **At some point** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"perfectly awful\"** JH audio interviews.\n\n **\"upbeat all the time\"** CH interview.\n\n **spring of 1930** Anne Turkos, Archivist, University of Maryland, email to the author, October 25, 2010.\n\n **Near record harvests** Turk, _Leland, Mississippi: From Hellhole to Beauty Spot_ , 84.\n\n **a four-room house** Donald H. Bowman, _A History of the Delta Branch Experiment Station, 1904\u20131985_ (Mississippi State University, 1985), 19.\n\n **Milk was delivered** Turk, _Leland, Mississippi: From Hellhole to Beauty Spot_ , 83.\n\n **with Dear and Bobby close at hand** An announcement in the December 11 _Washington Post_ indicates that Sarah and Bobby Henson had returned home after being in Leland for \"more than a month.\" See social page announcements relating to Hyattsville, _Washington Post_ , December 11, 1932.\n\n **Paul Ransom Henson, Jr**. While many sources, including _WAMI_ , state that Paul Henson, Jr., was two years older than Jim\u2014which would mean he was born in 1934\u2014Paul Henson was born in 1932. Paul's birth was announced in the November 6, 1932, _Washington Post_ (see social announcements for Hyattsville, _Washington Post_ , November 6, 1932). Further, his obituary in the April 16, 1956, _Evening Star_ gives his age as twenty-three, consistent with a late 1932 birth.\n\n **small, sad-eyed boy** _WAMI_ , 2.\n\n **regular and extended trips** For evidence of the Hensons' frequent visits to Maryland over several months, see \"Bridge Is Given for Mary Carr at Hyattsville,\" _Washington Post_ , September 30, 1934; \"Hyattsville Reception Honors Mrs. Sturgis, Retiring Principal,\" _Washington Post_ , October 14, 1934; and \"Bridge Is Given by Mrs. Brown at Hyattsville,\" _Washington Post_ , January 13, 1935.\n\n **thunderstorms still rumbling** \"Harvesting Season Passes the Peak; Cotton Picking Was Halted in Leland This Week by Scattered Showers,\" _Leland Enterprise_ , September 25, 1936.\n\n **The following morning** _The Leland Enterprise_ of Friday, September 25, 1936, reports, \"Mr. and Mrs. Paul Henson are receiving congratulations on the arrival of a son at the Hospital Wednesday.\" Given that Wednesday would have been the 23rd, and not the 24th, there may have been some confusion over the date on which Betty Henson entered the hospital, and when she actually gave birth to Jim. Despite the newspaper's erroneous report, there is no controversy over Jim's birth date. The Jim Henson Company Archives contains Betty Henson's medical records, confirming date and time of birth, birth weight, and attending physician (JHCA 8699).\n\n **4012 Tennyson Road** The author is grateful to former University Park mayor John Brunner for tracking down this information and providing a copy of the deed for this property. Prior to purchasing the home on Tennyson, the Hensons rented a house on Shepard Street.\n\n **a thriving downtown** _Hyattsville: Our Hometown_ (City of Hyattsville, 1988), 37\u201342.\n\n **newly established Bureau of Plant Industry** \"The History of USDA\" slide show, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bars.\u200busda.\u200bgov\/\u200bAboutus\/\u200bdocs.\u200bhtm?\u200bdocid=\u200b19854.\n\n **publishing his findings** P. R. Henson, M. A. Hein, M. W. Hazen, and W. H. Black, \"Cattle Grazing Experiments with Sericea Lespedeza at Beltsville, Maryland,\" _Journal of Animal Science_ 2 (1943): 314\u201320.\n\n **\"Jim hardly ever\"** John Culhane, \"The Muppets in Movieland,\" _New York Times_ , June 10, 1979.\n\n **while he would later cite** St. Pierre, 18.\n\n **\"None of us\"** Gordon Jones interview.\n\n **\"there were snakes\"** Tommy Baggette interview.\n\n **\"I was a Mississippi Tom Sawyer\"** Don Freeman, \"Muppets on His Hands,\" _Saturday Evening Post_ , November 1979.\n\n **When pressed** Gourse, 48.\n\n **\"Jimmy Childress was going to be Jimmy\"** Royall Frazier interview.\n\n **a religious survey** Turk, _Leland, Mississippi: From Hellhole to Beauty Spot_ , 37.\n\n **\"Over the years\"** JH, from the unpublished \"The Courage of My Convictions,\" circa 1986 (JHCA 16422). In the mid-1980s, Jim was asked to write a short piece for a book on spirituality. Neither the book nor Jim's five-page piece was published.\n\n **\"He was not an evangelical\"** Gordon Jones interview.\n\n **\"Jim found it\"** Royall Frazier interview.\n\n **On the corner** Turk, _Leland, Mississippi: From Hellhole to Beauty Spot_ , 94.\n\n **\"We'd always go on Saturday\"** Tommy Baggette and Gordon Jones interviews.\n\n **\"A child's use of imagination\"** _Being Green_ , 110.\n\n **\"The good guy had a birthmark\"** Gordon Jones interview.\n\n **regular trips from Maryland** While many biographies state that Dear was a resident of Mississippi, this is not the case. Pop and Dear lived in the same house on Marion Street in Hyattsville from 1923 until 1955, when they moved into a nearby apartment.\n\n **\"[He's] the one who taught our mother\"** JH audio interviews.\n\n **\"the Brown girls were never allowed to forget they were Southerners!\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"He was convinced\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"a little bit more of a nerd\"** Melissa Townsend, \"An Interview with Kermit Scott,\" _Delta Magazine_ , January\/February 2006, 30.\n\n **\"[He] would do things like that\"** Gordon Jones interview.\n\n **\"He'd reach out his handkerchief\"** Royall Frazier interview. 18 **It was no accident** Gordon Jones interview. Tommy Baggette recalls another skit night at which Jim and other troop members performed a puppet show, using puppets purchased from a toy store in Greenville. However, Baggette could not recall any specifics about the show or Jim's performance, while others interviewed for this book could not recall performing a puppet show at all. Gourse, 53\u201354.\n\n **\"were very quiet people\"** Gordon Jones interview.\n\n **During the almost weekly summer fish fries** Tommy Baggette interview.\n\n **\"absolutely delightful\"** Gordon Jones interview.\n\n **\"His mother was great for jokes\"** Royall Frazier interview.\n\n **\"Both of us nearly got killed\"** Townsend, \"An Interview with Kermit Scott.\"\n\n **While Jim and Paul were four years apart** Finch, in _WAMI_ , describes Paul as \"a shy, precocious boy,\" while Jim's friends recall that Paul, though four years older than most of them, was, according to Frazier, \"not very big.\" _WAMI_ , 2; Royall Frazier interview.\n\n **Jim would always be a gadget freak** JH audio interviews.\n\n **\"You could get one radio station\"** Royall Frazier interview.\n\n **\"Early radio drama\"** St. Pierre, 18.\n\n **Fibber McGee and Molly** While interviewing his parents in 1972, Jim talked briefly about radio shows he remembered (JH audio interviews).\n\n **But most of all** Culhane, \"The Muppets in Movieland.\"\n\n **\"I wasn't thinking,\" \"Edgar Bergen's work\"** Ibid.\n\n **The family purchased** While Jim's address\u2014and tax district\u2014was University Park, Jim would always write his address as Hyattsville, which is how it appears on both his passport and his University of Maryland transcript.\n\n **\"I was really sad\"** Gordon Jones interview.\n\n **retire to the porch** CH interview.\n\n **\"There was so much laughter\"** JH, quoted during JH audio interviews.\n\n **\"Fifteen or twenty people would be there\"** _Being Green_ , 112.\n\n **\"drove 'em all crazy\"** Culhane, \"The Muppets in Movieland.\"\n\n## **C HAPTER TWO: A MEANS TO AN END**\n\n **a log cabin near Beaver, Utah** _The Encyclopedia of Television_ , 2nd ed., ed. Horace Newcomb (New York: Museum of Broadcast Communications, 2004), 854\u201355.\n\n **while tilling a potato field** Neil Postman, \"Philo Farnsworth,\" _The Time 100: Scientists and Thinkers_ , March 29, 1999.\n\n **\"There you are\"** Ibid. See also _The Encyclopedia of Television_ , 854.\n\n **prohibited his own family** \"Biography of Philo T. Farnsworth,\" The Philo T. and Elma G. Farnsworth Papers, University of Utah, Marriott Library, Special Collections.\n\n **\"the simultaneity of television\"** Settel, 53.\n\n **\"I loved the idea\"** _WAMI_ , 4\u20135. See also JH Quotes.\n\n **the boxy Admiral** For typical newspaper advertisements for televisions in 1950, see display ads in _The Washington Post_ , September 1, 1950.\n\n **\"I badgered my family\"** _WAMI_ , 4. Emphasis in original. There are some differences of opinion as to exactly when the Henson family purchased its first television. Alison Inches speculates it may have been 1949 (see Inches, 14), while others suggest 1950. For purposes of this chapter, I have deferred to the timeline provided by Jane Henson for the program for the September 26, 2006, presentation at the University of Maryland, _Jim Henson: Creativity and Other Inspirational Stuff \/ Jane and Friends: The College Park Legacy\u2014A Casual Conversation with Jane Henson_ , which sets the date at 1950.\n\n **There were four television channels** Federal Communications Commission, \"History of Communications,\" http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bfcc.\u200bgov\/\u200bomd\/\u200bhistory\/\u200btv\/\u200b1880-\u200b1929.\u200bhtml.\n\n **more time watching TV** _WAMI_ , 4.\n\n **\"I immediately wanted to work in television\"** Ibid., 5.\n\n **Ernie Kovacs** Jim's enthusiasm for Kovacs is described in ibid., 4.\n\n **\"I don't think I ever saw\"** JH, interviewed by Judy Harris, \"Jim Henson,\" http:\/\/\u200busers.\u200bbestweb.\u200bnet\/~\u200bfoosie\/\u200bhenson.\u200bhtm. This is hereafter cited as Harris.\n\n **In March of that year** _Christian Science Monitor_ , March 17, 1950, B13.\n\n **\"Walt Kelly put together a team of characters\"** Gerald Volgenau, \"Henson's Offstage Voice Surprises Muppet Family Christmas Visitor,\" Knight-Ridder News Service, December 16, 1987.\n\n **Paul to the University of Maryland** \"Naval Officers Killed in Crash,\" _Evening Star_ (Washington, D.C.), April 16, 1956. Paul would also briefly attend Principia College before transferring back to Maryland.\n\n **\"He always wanted to fly\"** Tommy Baggette interview.\n\n **\"I hit a bad lob\"** Joe Irwin interview.\n\n **based on Jim's beloved Pogo** Bob Payne interview.\n\n **\"When I was old enough\"** _WAMI_ , 7.\n\n **\"You're not fooling anyone\"** Thomas C. Reeves, _The Life and Times of Joe McCarthy_ (Lanham, Maryland: Madison, 1997), 635.\n\n **little trouble getting dates** Joe Irwin interview.\n\n **he pleaded with his mother** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"I would have a nice little proper date\"** Joe Irwin interview.\n\n **\"youngsters twelve to fourteen\"** See _Evening Star_ (Washington, D.C.), May 13, 1954.\n\n **\"When I was a kid\"** _WAMI_ , 8\u20139.\n\n **a small, skinny hand puppet** Ibid., 8. Jim later added as an afterthought that he might also have built \"a couple of birds.\"\n\n **\"Three of the program's participants\"** Harry MacArthur, \"On the Air,\" _Evening Star_ (Washington, D.C.), June 25, 1954.\n\n **Meachum even landed** Roy Meachum, August 26, 2003, post on kidshow.\u200bdcmemories.\u200bcom: \"Jim Henson, Jane [ _sic_ ] and Russ were hired to cover records on _Saturday_ , the show's name. It ran from March through August. _Saturday_ was a spinoff to _Roy Meachum in the Morning_. That show ran from June 1953 to March 1954.\"\n\n **\"It was interesting\"** _WAMI_ , 8\u20139.\n\n **his performance had caught the eye** Jim's move from WTOP to WRC involves a bit of detective work, intuition, and supposition, as nearly all accounts differ. According to one story, Roy Meachum phoned Kovach to recommend Jim. (See Chuck Knight, \"Sam and Friends,\" _Old Line_ , May 1958, 25.) That differs slightly from the version Michael Davis reports in _Street Gang_ , 75\u201378, in which Kovach\u2014during his unsuccessful recruitment of Meachum\u2014spotted Jim at _Junior Morning Show_ and then later recruited him to join the cast of _Afternoon_. Given that _Junior Morning Show_ only lasted three episodes\u2014and that Meachum immediately hosted another show on which Jim worked\u2014it seems likely that Kovach approached Meachum during his run on _Saturday_. From there, it follows that he brought Jim to WRC to do other work first, before finally inserting him into the _Afternoon_ cast. That version of events more consistently aligns with Jim's own recollections that he went to WRC and began working on \"these little local shows\" before finally landing _Afternoon_. It also fills in a roughly seven-month gap in the story reported by Davis\u2014the time in which Jim, by his own admission, worked alone. This information is further supported by _Jim Henson\u2014the Early Years on WTOP and WRC_ (K. Falk JHCA 2010).\n\n **put through a brief audition** _WAMI_ , 15.\n\n **\"I took the puppets over to NBC\"** Ibid., 9.\n\n **stammer and giggle** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"The three of us had lunch\"** J. Pendleton Campbell, _On the Edge of Greatness (But No Cigar): An Autobiography of Radio and Television Performer Joe Campbell_ (Xlibris, 2003), quoted in an email from Bob Bell to Karen Falk, \"New Revelations: Jim Henson and Circle 4 Ranch\" (JHCA).\n\n **work solo for the next eight months** Ursula Keller, \" 'Muppets' Win Way,\" _Christian Science Monitor_ , December 15, 1959, 14.\n\n **\"I was very interested in theatre\"** Harris.\n\n **University Theaters' publicity director** Knight, \"Sam and Friends.\"\n\n **designed and printed posters** Harris; interview with Anne Turkos, archivist, University of Maryland.\n\n **\"My first year\"** Harris.\n\n **\"[My] puppetry teacher said\"** Ibid.\n\n **Jane Nebel** Description of her family and quotes are from Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"Back in those days\"** Harris.\n\n **\"They would have a cooking segment\"** _WAMI_ , 15.\n\n **2:15** P.M. \"TV Highlights,\" _Washington Post and Times-Herald_ , March 7, 1955, 35.\n\n **\"51% ownership of muppetts [ _sic_ ]\"** See \"Jim Henson\u2014The Early Years on WTOP and WRC\" (K. Falk JHCA 2010).\n\n **\"It was really just a term\"** Harris.\n\n **\"As I try to zero in\"** _Being Green_ , 25.\n\n **\"just by sitting down\"** Lawrence Laurent, \"The Straight Man Totes the Load,\" _Washington Post and Times-Herald_ , May 15, 1955.\n\n **\"integrated chaos\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"The work I did in those days\"** Harris.\n\n **\"in his stumbling unsure way\"** Lawrence Laurent, \"They Call It Plain Old 'Muppetmania,' \" _Washington Post_ , October 23, 1977.\n\n **\"Jim Henson was a very nice young guy\"** Jim Naughton, \"Jim Henson and Friends: Where It All Began,\" _Washington Post_ , May 17, 1990.\n\n **\"The kid is positively a genius\"** Laurent, \"The Straight Man Totes the Load.\"\n\n **\"to do spots for children\"** _WAMI_ , 15.\n\n **\"We very often would take a song\"** St. Pierre, 37.\n\n **\"I guess it had a quality of abandon\"** _WAMI_ , 15.\n\n **\"falling down\"** Naughton, \"Jim Henson and Friends: Where It All Began.\"\n\n **\"Those kids knocked us all out\"** Ibid.\n\n **a prime piece of TV real estate** While it is usually reported that Jim received the pre\u2013 _Huntley-Brinkley_ 6:25 **P.M.** slot concurrently with the 11:25 P.M. one, that cannot be the case, as _Huntley-Brinkley_ would not debut until October 29, 1956\u2014seventeen months after the debut of _Sam and Friends_. And once it did appear, it aired at 7:45 **P.M.** While Jim would soon receive an early news hour slot, it was initially as part of the _Footlight Theatre_ lineup. There would be quite of bit of tinkering with the WRC schedule before Jim finally landed both the pre _\u2013Huntley-Brinkley_ spot and the pre _-Tonight_ show slot. See the next chapter for more details.\n\n **\"A choice time slot\"** _WAMI_ , 15.\n\n## **C HAPTER THREE:** **_S AM AND FRIENDS_**\n\n **\"Harkness; Wthr. Sports; Muppets\"** \"Monday TV Programs,\" _Washington Post and Times-Herald_ , May 8, 1955.\n\n **\"I made him originally\"** Phil Geraci, \"Sam's Best Friend,\" _Sunday Star Magazine_ (Washington, D.C.), December 8, 1957.\n\n **\"are actually within him, within Sam\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **slowly dying of heart failure** JH audio interviews.\n\n **\"Kermit started out as a way of building\"** _WAMI_ , 19\u201321.\n\n **\"milky turquoise,\" \"I didn't call him a frog\"** Harris.\n\n **\"Those abstract characters\"** Ibid.\n\n **similar to a habit Burr Tillstrom** A May 23, 1949, feature in _Life_ contains a photograph of Tillstrom watching his performance on a television monitor, with the rather tangled caption, \"To watch operation, Tillstrom uses backstage TV screen on which he sees how puppets look to camera.\"\n\n **\"you can actually see what you are doing\"** Donna Hudgins, \"The Ancient Art of Puppetry... Hidden Hands That Teach,\" _Fifteenth Dimension_ , January 1970.\n\n **\"You'd perform but you'd also be the audience\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"After you go through working\"** Harris.\n\n **\"What Jim came to love\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"Many of the things I've done\"** _Being Green_ , 54.\n\n **\"Burr Tillstrom and the Bairds\"** Eleanor Blau, \"Jim Henson, Puppeteer, Dies; The Muppets' Creator Was 53,\" _New York Times_ , May 17, 1990.\n\n **\"We pretty much had a form\"** Harris.\n\n **\"Very early on\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"[They were] puppets that didn't look like puppets\"** JJ, archival interview (Henson Family Properties).\n\n **\"the most brilliant newcomer\"** Bernie Harrison, \"On the Air: Gobel Persuades Chicago Buddy to Try TV Again,\" _Sunday Star_ (Washingon, D.C.), July 3, 1955.\n\n **\"It was so short\"** Layne Mandell Bergin, quoted by Bob Bell, http:\/\/\u200bkidshow.\u200bdcmemories.\u200bcom\/\u200bsam4.\u200bhtml.\n\n **by his own count** Geraci, \"Sam's Best Friend.\"\n\n **\"a way that one\"** Inches, 27.\n\n **\"like catching flies\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **It had taken Paul** \"Naval Officers Killed in Crash,\" _Evening Star_ (Washington, D.C.), April 16, 1956.\n\n **\"When I first started working\"** Harris.\n\n **\"I was a kid\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"He had a warm glow\"** Amy Aldrich, \"The Muppets Take Disney World.\" Originally slated to appear in the March 1990 issue of the University of Maryland's _Inquiry_ magazine, neither the magazine nor the article was ever published. The article may be found at http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bnewsdesk.\u200bumd.\u200bedu\/\u200bimages\/\u200bHenson\/\u200bArticles\/\u200bInquiry\u200bArticle.\u200bhtml.\n\n **\"All the time I was in school\"** St. Pierre, 41.\n\n **\"I had assumed at that point\"** JH, the American Film Institute Elton H. Rule Lecture Series in Telecommunications, seminar with Jim Henson, May 6, 1986 (JHCA 7974).\n\n **angry phone calls and letters** Bernie Harrison, \"On the Air: WRC Lifts Whammy on Our Sammy,\" _Evening Star_ (Washington, D.C.), August 31, 1955.\n\n **\"Don't be too grateful\"** See the collection of _Sam and Friends\u2013_ related clips (JHCA _Sam and Friends_ folder).\n\n **WRC bounced its newscast** See the daily TV listings in _The Washington Post_ for May 1955 through May 1956.\n\n **The car veered off the road** \"Naval Officers Killed in Crash.\" See also \"Ensign Dies in Crash,\" _Washington Post and Times-Herald_ , April 16, 1956.\n\n **After receiving the phone call** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"never got over\"** Arthur Novell interview.\n\n **\"The way of carrying on would be to keep a smile on your face,\" \"good company,\" \"He shared so much\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"When his brother died\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"His intention of working\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"a rightness\"** Ibid. \"Boy, no matter what I say it's going to be wrong,\" said Jane Henson, trying to describe Jim's religious views. \"It's sort of like, however things went, that was right.\"\n\n **\"I believe that we form our own lives\"** JH, \"The Courage of My Convictions.\"\n\n **\"that whole Footlight Theatre was** **_so_** **contrived\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **pirate named Omar** See \"Man of Many Voices\" promo for WRC, circa 1956 (JHCA).\n\n **\"He just drove it home\"** JH audio interviews.\n\n **\"After all\"** _WAMI_ , 21.\n\n **\"He posed himself beside these signs\"** Joe Irwin interview.\n\n **\"Producers got in touch\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"Producers were impressed\"** See _Sam and Friends_ \u2013related clips (JHCA _Sam and Friends_ folder).\n\n **\"This could be their big break\"** _Evening Star_ , circa September 1956 (JHCA _Sam and Friends_ folder).\n\n **\"There were times\"** Harris.\n\n **That didn't make his schedule less hectic** Jane described a typical day to Katharine Elson, \"For Jane and Jim, Muppets Set a Merry Pace,\" _Washington Post and Times-Herald_ , February 17, 1957. Geraci, \"Sam's Best Friend,\" also describes a typical daily schedule for Jim.\n\n **it was his intention** Geraci, \"Sam's Best Friend.\"\n\n **\"In his spare time\"** _WAMI_ , 18.\n\n **\"At that time\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"The atmosphere in the studio\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"We'd use a lot of records\"** Jane Henson, remarks at MuppetFest 2001.\n\n **\"I think we were working\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"I take it all back\"** Stan Freberg to JH, telegram, 1957 (JHCA SF 8928).\n\n **\"who has a knack\"** \"New Lineup at WMAL,\" _Sunday Star_ (Washington, D.C.), August 18, 1957.\n\n **\"In the early days of the Muppets\"** St. Pierre, 40.\n\n **\"We'd try some really way-out things\"** J. Y. Smith, \"Jim Henson, Creator of Muppets, Dies at 53,\" _Washington Post_ , May 17, 1990.\n\n **\"I remember one strange thing\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"I was convinced\"** Smith, \"Jim Henson, Creator of Muppets, Dies at 53.\"\n\n **\"We have so few local shows\"** \"Televue Mailbag,\" _Sunday Star_ (Washington, D.C.), September 22, 1957.\n\n **\"This is one case where I'm certain\"** Ibid.\n\n **_The Huntley-Brinkley Report_** Barbara Matusow, _The Evening Stars: The Making of the Network News Anchor_ (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1983), 69\u201373.\n\n **\"We got the** **_Huntley-Brinkley_** **audience\"** Jane Henson, remarks at MuppetFest 2001.\n\n **\"very shy, a retiring sort of person\"** Naughton, \"Jim Henson and Friends: Where It All Began.\"\n\n **Jane designed most of her own clothes** Elson, \"For Jane and Jim, Muppets Set a Merry Pace.\"\n\n **\"Why are you having** **_your_** **picture taken with all** **_my_** **puppets?\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **Jim would usually slouch way down** Ibid.\n\n **involved with other people** Ibid. Jane's relationship is also mentioned in Elson, \"For Jane and Jim, Muppets Set a Merry Pace,\" while Jim's engagement can be found in \"Engagement Announcements,\" _Washington Post and Times-Herald_ , December 22, 1957.\n\n **\"a cheerleader type\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n## **C HAPTER FOUR: MUPPETS, INC**.\n\n **The John H. Wilkins Company** Liz Hillenbrand, \"Enthusiasm About Coffee Seems Natural to Wilkins,\" _Washington Post and Times-Herald_ , November 18, 1956.\n\n **fifteen ten-second coffee commercials** Knight, \"Sam and Friends.\"\n\n **\"really pretty corny\"** Naughton, \"Jim Henson and Friends: Where It All Began.\"\n\n **\"We took a very different approach\"** Inches, 44.\n\n **Jim really** **_didn't_** **like Wilkins coffee** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"The commercials were an immediate hit\"** Harris.\n\n **\"sitting through\"** George Kennedy, \"The Rambler Learns About Muppetry,\" undated newspaper clipping (JHCA 14-1092).\n\n **\"This is the biggest thing\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"He had the creative ability\"** Naughton, \"Jim Henson and Friends: Where It All Began.\"\n\n **\"the last inch of winding band\"** For an example, see the advertisement in _Washington Post and Times-Herald_ , November 25, 1958, A8.\n\n **more than 25,000 pairs** Stacy V. Jones, \"Patents Granted for TV Ad Puppets,\" _New York Times_ , September 19, 1959.\n\n **\"I'm sure it cost them more\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"The funniest thing we have seen in many a moon\"** See fan letter to Community Coffee Company, November 16, 1959 (JHCA 14-0156).\n\n **\"[The commercials] got a lot of talk\"** Harris. See also Nash contracts (JHCA 14-0192).\n\n **\"That was almost the first voice stuff\"** Harris.\n\n **a future as a painter** Elson, \"For Jane and Jim, Muppets Set a Merry Pace.\"\n\n **\"continue with the Muppets\"** Knight, \"Sam and Friends.\"\n\n **\"I decided to chuck it all\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"The station prevailed\"** Harris.\n\n **\"He already knew what he was wanting!\"** Bob Payne interview.\n\n **\"He had this bar inside him\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"wandered over to Europe\"** Harris.\n\n **\"But I know the kind of adventures\"** Joe Irwin interview.\n\n **\"In Europe\"** Smith, \"Jim Henson, Creator of Muppets, Dies at 53.\"\n\n **\"absolutely marveled,\" \"[Audiences] were very involved\"** Joe Irwin interview.\n\n **\"That was the first time,\" \"When I traveled around\"** Harris.\n\n **\"They were very serious about their work\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"It was at that point\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"ridiculously overcomplicated\"** _WAMI_ , 25.\n\n **\"just a little bit\"** Lawrence Laurent, \"Story Is Next Lad to Accept the 'Challenge,' \" _Washington Post and Times-Herald_ , September 2, 1956.\n\n **\"When he came back from Europe\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"I remember an elevator ride\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"they weren't dates\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"had an artistic bent\"** Joe Irwin interview.\n\n **\"We were very fond\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"From Samson to Delilah\"** Inches, 22.\n\n **\"I started painting\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"about two or three\"** Jane Henson, remarks at MuppetFest 2001.\n\n **\"Jim never had me do voices\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"Money cannot measure success\"** Keller, \" 'Muppets' Win Way,\" 14.\n\n **\"My impression\"** Matt Neufeld, \"Jim Henson Made the World Laugh,\" _Washington Times_ , May 17, 1990.\n\n **\"What with the Rolls\"** _WAMI_ , 25.\n\n **his job was recruiting** Brillstein, 48.\n\n **\"Burr, give me a break\"** BB, archival interview (Henson Family Properties). 82 **\"I didn't want to\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"In walked this guy\"** Brillstein, 53\u201354.\n\n **sign a contract** One such contract, dated October 12, 1961, was discovered among the files for _Mad, Mad World_ (JHCA 02-0873).\n\n **\"Acts as oracle\"** Inches, 31.\n\n **\"Sam is back!\"** See the display ad in the September 12, 1960, _Washington Post and Times-Herald_ for a typical example.\n\n **\"marvelous, very outgoing\"** Harris.\n\n **\"I never wanted to be a puppeteer\"** FO, interviewed by Kenneth Plume, \"Interview with Frank Oz,\" http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bign.\u200bcom\/\u200barticles\/\u200b2000\/\u200b02\/\u200b10\/\u200binterview-\u200bwith-\u200bfrank-\u200boz-\u200bpart-\u200b1-\u200bof-\u200b4 et seq.\n\n **\"Our house was like a salon\"** FO interview.\n\n **At age fourteen** Ibid. See also Erika Mailman, \"Muppet Man Oz Got Start at Children's Fairyland in Oakland,\" _Contra Costa Times_ (California), September 17, 2010.\n\n **which, predictably, he won** FO interview. Sadly, Oz can no longer recall what routine he performed.\n\n **\"they weren't like anything else!\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"He was this very quiet, shy guy\"** FO, interviewed by Kenneth Plume.\n\n **\"shy, self-effacing boy\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Sunday Painter\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"He said, 'The ending is weak!' \"** FO interview.\n\n **\"He was really still at home\"** Harris.\n\n **\"somebody or something\"** _Being Green_ , 44.\n\n **\"I think it was an accident\"** Harris.\n\n **\"I never used to go\"** FO, interviewed by Kenneth Plume.\n\n **\"The Muppets already had a cult following\"** _WAMI_ , 19.\n\n **\"The things he brought out\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"This guy was like a sailor\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"develop and expand\"** Barbara J. Witt to JH, July 10, 1961 (JHCA 14-0867).\n\n **\"If... one or two of these bits\"** \"Proposal for USDA Food Fair,\" September 20, 1961 (JHCA 14-0867).\n\n **\"a rather ingenious set of mechanical puppets\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"revolutionary\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"a spectacular feat of entertainment\"** Wilbert Schaal to JH, November 30, 1961 (JHCA 14-0867).\n\n **\"the average European impression\"** Bonnie Aikman, \"DC Studios,\" _Sunday Star TV Magazine_ (Washington, D.C.), March 4, 1962. While the Henson Archives contain minimal information on these animatronic puppets\u2014only a drawing of the cigar-smoking man exists\u2014Jane remembered them clearly, as did several others, and the _Washington Daily Star_ reported briefly on them in its TV magazine.\n\n **\"It was really just half-an-hour\"** _WAMI_ , 31.\n\n **\"You'd see him on little grassy knolls,\" \"We frogified him\"** Ibid., 31, 37.\n\n## **C HAPTER FIVE: A CRAZY LITTLE BAND**\n\n **youngest performer to hold** Eide, Cook, and Abrams, 57. As of 2012, Jim still holds the record for serving as the youngest president of the organization.\n\n **\"For puppeteers\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"When you try to sell anyone on puppets\"** Gerald Nachman, \"How the Muppets Got That Way,\" _New York Post_ , January 24, 1965.\n\n **\"We have a witch who is delightful\"** \"Notes on On-Cor Idea\" (JHCA 14-0194).\n\n **Ralph it would be, then** Ralph Freeman to JH, February 20, 1963 (JHCA 14-0198). Jim had appeared on the _Today_ show on February 7, 1963, using Ralph and Baskerville in the sketch \"Dog Music.\" Following the skit, host Hugh Downs engaged the Muppets in conversation, during which they discussed Ralph's name. \"Quite a few of our people saw Ralph and Baskerville on NBC the other day,\" Freeman wrote, \"and got a big kick out of Hugh Downs' question as to how Ralph got his name.\"\n\n **\"I would generally do a little scribble\"** Inches, 50.\n\n **\"That single decision\"** _WAMI_ , 32.\n\n **\"The Magic Triangle\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"He always wanted me there\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"had more to do with the basic style\"** Ibid., 26.\n\n **\"He knew then\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"tossed into a cupboard\"** JH, \"My Life with Rowlf (Or Something Like That)\" (JHCA 14-0746, Production Box 57).\n\n **\"We were never told\"** Joan Crosby, \"Jim Henson and Rowlf Know Just What's What, Where They're Going,\" _Hartford Times_ (Connecticut), February 29, 1964.\n\n **\"Anyone in this business of television\"** \"Neighbors from _Sesame Street:_ A Visit with Jane and Jim Henson,\" _Greenwich Social Review_ 23, no. 8 (November 1970).\n\n **\"totally typical of the way Jim worked\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"wonderful old apartment building\"** JJ, interviewed by Paul Eide, \"In the Company of Genius,\" _The Puppetry Journal_ 57, no. 1 (Fall 2005): 4.\n\n **In the main room** FO interview. See also _WAMI_ , 35, and JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"[Our] spaces never looked like offices\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"very serious,\" \"Having your young son\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"This is the room where Jim\"** _WAMI_ , 35.\n\n **\"But I didn't come to New York to go to school\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"began looking at ol' JD,\" \"check out\"** Dean, 77, 80.\n\n **ABC was bombarded** \"Pooch Came for a Visit... and Hasn't Left Yet,\" ABC Feature Press Release, October 14, 1963 (JHCA 14-0746 Production Folder).\n\n **\"These were old-school guys\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"We would spend all week working\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"really quite simple\"** JH, \"My Life with Rowlf (Or Something Like That).\"\n\n **\"is not to do too much\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"As we first had Rowlf set up\"** Aldine Bird, \"Public Writes, 'Rowlf' Stays\" (JHCA, assorted press clippings, Jimmy Dean box).\n\n **\"I treated Rowlf like he was real\"** Dean, 80. Emphasis in original.\n\n **over two thousand fan letters** George T. Miller, \"Woofing with a Rag Dog,\" _New York Times_ , April 5, 1964.\n\n **\"It's been interesting for me\"** JH, \"My Life with Rowlf (Or Something Like That).\"\n\n **\"He's free-form\"** Richard Gehman, \" 'Lemme Do It Mah Way': Jimmy Dean Knows What He Wants\u2014and Usually Gets It,\" _TV Guide_ , circa 1963.\n\n **_\"He knew what he was wanting!\"_** Bob Payne interview.\n\n **\"a rascal,\" \"That was completely unexpected!\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"He was not interested in kids' stuff,\" \"I probably felt a lot more uncertain\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"I would have been just as happy\"** James W. Young to Roy Dabadie, June 18, 1959 (JHCA 14-0156).\n\n **\"it's taken years off my life\"** James W. Young to John F. Hoag, September 18, 1959 (JHCA 14-0182).\n\n **\"business operations, including supervision\"** Agreement with Alden Murray, December 15, 1961 (JHCA 14-0868).\n\n **\"Could you please return\"** JH to Roy Dabadie, January 2, 1963 (JHCA 14-0156).\n\n **\"It was slapdash\"** Transcript of conference call regarding \"The Greenwich Years\" exhibit, January 20, 1994 (JHCA).\n\n **\"Until we had the Muppets\"** William F. Wright to Russell McElwee, July 7, 1964 (JHCA 14-0152).\n\n **\"We'd usually stay in this little hotel\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"Part of what makes the Muppets work\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"false start\":** See various camera reports (JHCA 9913).\n\n **\"they** **_soaked_** **Wontkins in it\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"some pretty high-powered\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"I thought I'd better do something\"** JJ, interviewed by Paul Eide, \"In the Company of Genius,\" 4\u20135.\n\n **\"The house in Greenwich,\" \"close enough to be shooed off\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"sitting with a storyboard pad\"** JJ, _The World of Jim Henson_ (documentary), 1994.\n\n **\"came just completely full-blown\"** Jane Henson, _The World of Jim Henson_ (documentary).\n\n **\"Jim wasn't a puppeteer\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"the story of an Everyman\"** \"A Description of _Time Piece_ \" (JHCA 14-0855).\n\n **\"We didn't know what was going on,\" \"There was this storyboard\"** \"The Greenwich Years\" exhibit.\n\n **\"dropping clocks in mud\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"We were all over the place\"** \"The Greenwich Years\" exhibit.\n\n **\"All those** **_Time Piece_** **shots,\" \"a personal piece,\" \"It came totally from Jim\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"all [the] different places\"** _The World of Jim Henson_ (documentary).\n\n **\"repeated cuts from realistic scenes\"** \"A Description of _Time Piece_.\"\n\n **\"was maybe about a second\"** _The World of Jim Henson_ (documentary).\n\n **\"I was... playing,\" \"Richard Lester did** **_A Hard Day's Night_** \" JH Quotes.\n\n **\" _Time Piece_** **is about time\"** JJ, _The World of Jim Henson_ (documentary).\n\n **\"A lot of people want to say something\"** Nachman, \"How the Muppets Got That Way.\"\n\n **\"the possibility of filmic stream of consciousness\"** \"A Description of _Time Piece_.\"\n\n **\"rather weird little movie\"** Invitation to _Time Piece_ premiere (JHCA _Time Piece_ box).\n\n **\"It was Jim pushing the form\"** _The World of Jim Henson_ (documentary).\n\n **\"I don't think there's anything\"** Laurence D. Kramer, United Artists, to Harry Ufland, William Morris Agency, May 20, 1965 (JHCA _Time Piece_ box).\n\n **\"He thought our senses of humor would mesh\"** Jerry Nelson, \"Jerry Nelson (In His Own Words)\u2014From 'Halfway Down the Stairs,' \" http:\/\/\u200be.\u200bdomaindlx.\u200bcom\/\u200bjerrynelson.\n\n **\"approach things in a calm and kind way\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"He just went ashen\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"A terrible day\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"I sat in front of that mirror\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"The gal started walking away,\" \"Jim was fearless\"** \"The Greenwich Years\" exhibit.\n\n **\"When he had a vision in his mind\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"That's one of the times\"** \"The Greenwich Years\" exhibit.\n\n **\"Working at the Muppet office was always fun\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"I loved the way Don played\"** _WAMI_ , 26.\n\n **\"With typical speed and efficiency\"** JH to Franklin Cosmen, Celanese Chemical Company, October 16, 1964 (JHCA 8684).\n\n **\"The Muppets were known\"** BH, interviewed by Kenneth Plume, August 9, 2000, http:\/\/\u200bmovies.\u200bign.\u200bcom\/\u200barticles\/\u200b035\/\u200b035899p1.\u200bhtml et seq.\n\n **\"it wasn't all that big\"** Jerry Nelson, \"Jerry Nelson (In His Own Words)\u2014From 'Halfway Down the Stairs.' \"\n\n **\"We were just kind of this crazy little band\"** \"The Greenwich Years\" exhibit.\n\n **\"They thought the Muppets were a rock group,\" \"a serious conversation,\" \"didn't look very clean cut either\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Someone would have an idea\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"I hated those costume things\"** \"The Greenwich Years\" exhibit.\n\n **\"I was blind\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"sense of humor and crazy nuttiness\"** DL, archival interview (Henson Family Properties).\n\n **\"ecstatic\"** JH RB, March 25, 1966 (JHCA 9177).\n\n **\"We made Rowlf a... bungling salesman\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"Machines should work\"** See the 1967 short \"Paperwork Explosion,\" http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200byoutube.\u200bcom\/\u200bwatch?\u200bv=\u200b_IZw2CoYztk.\n\n **\"dinky little offices,\" \"There was this aura of calmness\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"We'd do our little bit\"** Jerry Nelson, interviewed by Kenneth Plume, March 1, 1999. See http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bign.\u200bcom\/\u200barticles\/\u200b2000\/\u200b02\/\u200b10\/\u200binterview-\u200bwith-\u200bjerry-\u200bnelson-\u200bpart-\u200b1-\u200bof-\u200b4 et seq.\n\n **\"Next thing you know\"** Gehman, \" 'Lemme Do It Mah Way.' \"\n\n **\"whatever that is\"** JH RB, August 27, 1965.\n\n **\"from 'A frightening look' \"** \"A Description of _Time Piece_.\"\n\n **\"such fun!\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"which lessened the dramatic impact of my leaving\"** FO, email to the author, March 28, 2011.\n\n **\"I reported for duty\" \"I came back up the stairs\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"Frank Oz is not drafted!\"** JH RB, February 18, 1966.\n\n **\"Jim would call me up\"** Jerry Nelson, interviewed by Kenneth Plume, \"Still Counting: An Interview with Jerry Nelson,\" Muppet Central, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bmuppetcentral.\u200bcom\/\u200barticles\/\u200binterviews\/\u200bnelson1.\u200bshtml et seq.\n\n **\"Johnny is not one of those people\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"fair,\" \"Fairly good\"** See JH RB entries for December 31, 1965, and December 12, 1965.\n\n **\"Our material does have a certain similarity\"** Nachman, \"How the Muppets Got That Way.\"\n\n **\"expecting it to lead somewhere,\" \"We had nothing to do\"** _WAMI_ , 40.\n\n **\"affectionate anarchy\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"people at the studio,\" \"crazy Muppet people\"** _WAMI_ , 40.\n\n **\"What's interesting\"** Diana Birkenfield interview. The pipes can still be seen today as part of the NBC tour at Rockefeller Center.\n\n **\"Good puppetry has a broad range\"** Joan Crosby, \"Jim Henson and Rowlf Know Just What's What, Where They're Going,\" _Hartford Times_ (Connecticut), February 29, 1964.\n\n **\"He always had those fancy new cars\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"Except for** **_Jimmy Dean_** \" _WAMI_ , 47.\n\n **\"a new concept\"** Brochure for Cyclia, circa 1967 (JHCA Cyclia folder).\n\n **\"The idea began\"** _WAMI_ , 46.\n\n **\"a definite prestige atmosphere\"** Brochure for Cyclia.\n\n **\"I shot thousands and thousands of feet\"** _WAMI_ , 47.\n\n **\"you couldn't shoot just random stuff\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"as long as there were no more than three instruments\"** Joseph Karow to JH, October 10, 1966 (JHCA Cyclia folder).\n\n **\"Nearly bought ABZ\"** JH RB November 1966.\n\n **\"We went to the El Morocco\"** \"The Greenwich Years\" exhibit.\n\n **\"It could well be\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Jim went where the excitement was\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"You would think that he would be tired\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"There was a lot of making things\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"Jim loved to come home\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"He was very matter-of-fact about it\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"an embracing environment\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"There were times\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"was like my surrogate grandmother\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"Jim and I would sit and think up anything\"** \"The Greenwich Years\" exhibit.\n\n **\"This guy Henson's\"** Howard Morris to BB, May 19, 1967 (JH 5780).\n\n **\"strange electronic pulses and rhythms\"** See Jim's proposal for \"Inside My Head: A Concept Outline for a One Hour Experiment in Television,\" circa 1968 (JHCA _Inside My Head_ folder).\n\n **\"to communicate the ideas of Youth\"** Proposal for \"A Collage of Today\" (JHCA 14-0886).\n\n **\"We worked twenty hours a day\"** Barry Clark to David Granahan, May 7, 1968 (JHCA 140882).\n\n **\"Back in the sixties\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"We got into\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Visually the program\"** John Voorhees, \"TV Can Be Art Form,\" _Seattle Post-Intelligencer_ , April 23, 1968.\n\n **\"No television program\"** Ralph Gleason, \"NBC's Portrait of Our Youth,\" circa 1968 (JHCA Youth '68 box).\n\n **\"one of the most inspired programs of this season\"** \"Youth 68,\" _Variety_ , April 24, 1968.\n\n **\"excellent, brave, courageous, Hippies and drug addicts\"** See various viewer mail (JHCA Youth '68 box). Also R. L. Conner to KNBC, April 21, 1968 (JHCA 14-0886).\n\n **\"a novelty act\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"a few larger projects,\" \"attempt a feature film\"** Barry Clark to David Granahan, May 7, 1968 (JHCA 14-0882).\n\n **\"a weird kind of dark ritual look\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"original, surrealistic comedy\"** See JH, JJ original screenplay for _The Cube_. Also \" 'The Cube,' Original Surrealistic Comedy by Jim Henson and Jerry Juhl, Set for 'NBC Experiment in Television,' \" NBC Press Release, January 21, 1969 (JHCA _Cube_ production box).\n\n **\"I see no hope for it\"** Tom Egan to BB, November 4, 1966 (JHCA _Cube_ production box).\n\n **\"After** **_Time Piece_** , **Jim often got frustrated\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"[Jim's] inspiration\"** _WAMI_ , 44\u201345.\n\n **\"Congratulations\"** A. Kleihauer to KNBC-TV, February 25, 1969 (JHCA _Cube_ production box).\n\n **\"We were in an era\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"A dramatic highlight of the season\"** Ben Gross, \"A Fascinating TV Play, 'The Cube,' Makes a Hit,\" New York _Daily News_ , circa February 1969.\n\n **\"excellent,\" \"provocative,\" \"a challenge and a pleasure\"** See assorted correspondence, JHCA _Cube_ production box.\n\n **\"it must have been intended\"** \"Television Reviews,\" _Variety_ , February 25, 1969.\n\n **\"the most disciplined attention\"** F. Dionne to JH, February 22, 1969 (JHCA _Cube_ production box).\n\n **\"Dear Mr. Dionne\"** JH to F. Dionne, March 13, 1969 (JHCA _Cube_ production box).\n\n **\"That's actually very Jim!\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"work Jim\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"That isn't something\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"I used to always think\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"demonstrate the technique and approach\"** Robert Reed to JH, January 13, 1968 (JHCA 14-0874).\n\n **\"just decided he didn't want to do it\"** \"The Greenwich Years\" exhibit.\n\n **\"This is completely wrong\"** See draft contract with Young & Rubicam, March 3, 1969 (JHCA 14-0190).\n\n **\"Tape Pilot Shows\"** JH RB, July 9\u201318.\n\n## **C HAPTER SIX:** **_S ESAME STREET_**\n\n **\"I think there was a kind of collective genius\"** _WAMI_ , 74.\n\n **\"We discovered we had a tremendous empathy\"** JS, archival interview (Henson Family Properties).\n\n **\"to create a successful television program\"** Borgenicht, 9.\n\n **\"I want this show to jump and move fast\"** Beatrice Berg, \"Goodbye Bang, Burn, Stab, Shoot,\" _New York Times_ , November 9, 1969.\n\n **\"I talked to [Joan Cooney] for fifteen minutes\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"I hadn't remembered the name at first\"** Davis, 150.\n\n **\"There was a huge ambivalence there\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Jim got involved right away\"** \"Jim Henson Productions Legacy Meeting\u2014Jon Stone and Jerry Nelson Discuss the Beginnings of Sesame Street, May 26, 1993\" (JHCA interviews box).\n\n **\"This was an educational children's show\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"this future amorphous television show\"** \"Jim Henson Productions Legacy Meeting.\"\n\n **\"He said, 'So, Brian' \"** BH interview.\n\n **\"I fought like hell\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"if nobody came up with a better idea\"** Davis, 156\u201357.\n\n **\"The design was so simple\"** _WAMI_ , 61.\n\n **\"We played with who did what\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"it's a total coincidence\"** \"Jim Henson Productions Legacy Meeting.\"\n\n **\"I don't like it\"** John Culhane, \"Report Card on Sesame Street,\" _New York Times_ , May 24, 1970.\n\n **\"We had been told by all our advisors\"** _WAMI_ , 71.\n\n **\"to have a character that the child could live through,\" \"Big Bird, in theory, is himself a child\"** JH, _Henson's Place: The Man Behind the Muppets_ (documentary).\n\n **\"Oscar is there\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"an experimental production\"** Spinney, 20.\n\n **\"I couldn't see my films\"** Ibid., 21.\n\n **\"Jim never just wanted to chat\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"I saw your show\"** Ibid., 25.\n\n **\"I wasn't in California very long at all\"** Eide, \"In the Company of Genius,\" 5.\n\n **\"When Big Bird was being developed\"** _WAMI_ , 57.\n\n **\"Fortunately\"** Spinney, 41.\n\n **Oscar's Salt of the Sea** Located at 1157 Third Avenue, just around the corner from the Muppet office. The name of the restaurant has often been mistakenly recalled as \"Oscar's Tavern.\" The Jim Henson Company Archives contains a number of doodles drawn on napkins from the restaurant. Borgenicht, 107\u20138.\n\n **\"It would lift up\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"Left hands are much stupider\"** Davis, 187.\n\n **\"I hoped I had the right voice,\" \"That'll do fine\"** Spinney, 53.\n\n **which Jim later admitted** Ted Gottfried, \"The Mastermind of the Muppets,\" _Plain Dealer_ (Cleveland), September 11, 1975.\n\n **\"stocking puppets\"** Jack Gould, \"This 'Sesame' May Open the Right Doors,\" _New York Times_ , November 23, 1969.\n\n **Washington, D.C., City Council approved a resolution** Elizabeth Shelton, \"Sesame Street Opens,\" _Washington Post_ , November 11, 1969.\n\n **\"It's clever and witty and charming\"** \"Sesame Street Swings,\" _Detroit Free Press_ , November 24, 1969.\n\n **\"an undisputed hit\"** Jack Gould, \"TV: Important Breakthroughs for Sesame Street,\" _New York Times_ , December 10, 1969.\n\n **\"I didn't know what success meant\"** Joan Ganz Cooney, archival interview.\n\n **\"only Jim\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"Apparently, the Children's Television Workshop\"** Jack Gould, \" 'Hey, Cinderella' Given as A.B.C. Classic,\" _New York Times_ , April 11, 1970.\n\n **\"For the past ten or twelve years\"** Davis, 212\u201313.\n\n **\"extreme sensitivity to commercialization\"** Irving Schlessel to Richard C. Waldburger, Esq., August 14, 1970 (JHCA 14-0190).\n\n **\"We were really checking the clocks\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"The attitude you have as a parent\"** _Being Green_ , 113.\n\n **\"Jim was intrigued with his children\"** Ibid., 109.\n\n **\"Lisa has great taste\"** Harry Harris, \"Muppet Master Lauds Sesame Street,\" _Philadelphia Inquirer_ , November 9, 1969.\n\n **\"odd, because we're really not kid oriented\"** Frank Langley, \"The Moog Makes the Muppets,\" undated clip, _Sesame Street_ early publicity folder (JHCA 06-0389, folder 2).\n\n **\"I forgot about the party\"** \"Jim Henson Productions Legacy Meeting.\"\n\n **\"Puppetry is different\"** \"He's His Own Best Audience: Muppeteer Jim Henson Watches TV While He Works,\" _TV Guide_ , August 6, 1972.\n\n **\"We look for a basic sense of performance\"** Harris.\n\n **\"but puppeteers do their own voices\"** Srianthi Perera, \"An Interview with Fran Brill,\" _Arizona Republic_ , January 8, 2008.\n\n **\"That was very much criticized\"** Joan Ganz Cooney, interview on Archive of American Television website, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bemmytvlegends.\u200borg\/\u200binterviews\/\u200bpeople\/\u200bjoan-\u200bganz-\u200bcooney.\n\n **\"She brought a sharpness\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"analogous to a family of boys\"** Fran Brill, email to the author, July 24, 2011. 156 **\"When I was eighteen\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"God, he was a comedic force\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"It was one of the most exhausting times I ever had\"** Caroly Wilcox, archival interview (JHCA 10356).\n\n **\"He'd be in the back working\"** FO interview.\n\n **a beautiful short film** A perpetual _Sesame Street_ favorite, the song in the film\u2014sung by Juli Christman\u2014was written by Alan Scott, Marilyn Scott, and Keith Textor.\n\n **\"My dad made the whole thing himself\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"I like both a lot\"** Maurice Sendak to JH, September 15, 1970 (JHCA 14-0787).\n\n **\"Yanked by the suits at CTW,\" \"the representative of the audience\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"Jim never considered anything to be 'done' \"** Spinney, 41.\n\n **\"What the hell is that?\"** Spinney, 59.\n\n **\"He's not a villain, not horrible\"** Ibid., 54.\n\n **\"There's no heart of gold\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"he didn't really enjoy it\"** \"Jim Henson Productions Legacy Meeting.\"\n\n **\"they're just handed to me\"** Robert Higgins, \"The Muppet Family and How It Grew,\" _TV Guide_ , May 16, 1970.\n\n **\"There was a big three-hole binder\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"two weeks to a month\"** Higgins, \"The Muppet Family and How It Grew.\"\n\n **\"Jim was an extraordinarily serious, yet silly man\"** Gikow, 43.\n\n **\"Ready to wiggle some dolls?\"** FO interview (and verified by pretty much every Muppet performer).\n\n **\"like a day off... that was my holiday\"** \"Jim Henson Productions Legacy Meeting.\"\n\n **\"He loved the one-on-one aspect of directing\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"The most sophisticated people I know\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"Often, the material that we were given\"** _WAMI_ , 59.\n\n **\"Performing the Ernie and Bert pieces\"** Gikow, 46.\n\n **\"We respected the writers' jokes\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"The best thing of all\"** Borgenicht, 183.\n\n **\"And what are we teaching?\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"I can't imagine doing Bert now\"** Gikow, 47.\n\n **\"They're Jim and Frank\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"There are certainly elements of our own personalities\"** Gikow, 47.\n\n **\"We were two people\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"it was a magical coming together\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"to be a kind of Kermit spokesperson\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Kermit is the closest one to me\"** Tom Shales, \"Ta-Dahh! It's Jim Henson, Creator of Kermit the Frog and King of the Muppets,\" _Washington Post_ , January 25, 1977.\n\n **\"I live kind of within myself\"** ABC Television Network promotional materials, February 10, 1975 (JHCA _Sesame Street_ box).\n\n **\"an explosion of energy\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"On** **_Sesame Street_** , **the monsters\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"Blue Monster\"** \"In Just an Hour a Day, Fewer Learning Cavities,\" _Life_ , October 31, 1969.\n\n **\"I noticed the purity of the dog\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"really enabled me to get a real feel\"** \"Jim Henson Productions Legacy Meeting.\"\n\n **\"Jim** **_loved_** **complicated puppetry\"** Joan Ganz Cooney, Archive of American Television interview.\n\n **\"Every time we built\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"It wasn't much fun for Richard\"** Jerry Nelson, interviewed by Jessica Max Stein, http:\/\/\u200bjessicamaxstein.\u200bcom\/\u200b2010\/\u200b05\/\u200bjerry-\u200bnelson-\u200binterview-\u200bpart-\u200bi.\n\n **\"He was like a puppy\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"I always used to do Jim's right hand\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview (Henson Family Properties).\n\n **\"blue sky!\"** Fran Brill interview.\n\n **\"we'd give the puppeteer a concept or a problem\"** \"Jim Henson Productions Legacy Meeting.\"\n\n **\"I'm working with Ernie\"** Gottfried, \"The Mastermind of the Muppets.\"\n\n **\"Family, school and television\"** Higgins, \"The Muppet Family and How It Grew.\"\n\n **\"TV is frustrating\"** Foxy Gwynne, \"Jim Henson and His Muppets,\" circa 1972 (JHCA _Sesame Street_ box).\n\n **\"Kids love to learn\"** Higgins, \"The Muppet Family and How It Grew.\"\n\n **\"It's why the show is a success\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"He loved to perform with Frank and Jerry\"** Gikow, 183.\n\n **\"destroyed God knows how much\"** \"How Cookie Monster Destroys Work Habits of George Plimpton,\" _Wall Street Journal_ , April 22, 1971.\n\n **\"profusion of aims\"** \"Who's Afraid of Big, Bad TV?,\" _Time_ , November 23, 1970.\n\n **\"nondemocratic and possibly dangerous for young Britons\"** \"BBC Finds Sesame St. Not Ducky,\" _New York Post_ , July 7, 1971.\n\n \" **Jim's contribution was absolutely essential\"** \"Jim Henson Productions Legacy Meeting.\"\n\n **\"Jim Henson's Muppets\"** Jack Gould, \"TV: 'Sesame Street' Begins Its Second Semester,\" _New York Times_ , November 11, 1970.\n\n **\"I think it wasn't until** **_Sesame Street_** \" JH Quotes.\n\n **\"When** **_Sesame Street_** **came on\"** Harris.\n\n **\"I just stopped doing that stuff\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"my goals have changed\"** JH to Robert H. Steen, Quaker Oats Company, May 18, 1971.\n\n **\"hauled in $350,000 in '69\"** Higgins, \"The Muppet Family and How It Grew.\"\n\n **\"really ugly\"** Gwynne, \"Jim Henson and His Muppets.\"\n\n **\"Foundation support is impermanent\"** Gikow, 264.\n\n **\"If I have a song to sing\"** JH, \"The Producer's Point of View,\" _Action for Children's Television_ (Avon, 1970), 25\u201326.\n\n **\"I told him\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"You can't take advantage of the love\"** \"Jim Henson and His Magic Muppet Empire,\" _Philadelphia Inquirer_ , December 3, 1987.\n\n **\"If Jim or the Muppets\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Here's what you have to do\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"I said no\"** Joan Ganz Cooney, Archive of American Television interview.\n\n **\"Our bottom line consideration\"** \"Jim Henson and His Magic Muppet Empire.\"\n\n **\"receive the widest possible distribution\"** Leonard Sloane, \"Toys Are Talk of Sesame Street,\" _New York Times_ , July 31, 1971.\n\n **\"more Muppets or more educational value\"** Al Gottesman interview.\n\n **\"Jim was incredibly proud\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"His means of expression\"** FO interview.\n\n## **C HAPTER SEVEN: BIG IDEAS**\n\n **\"We can do anything you like\"** JH to Bill Persky, October 22, 1970 (JHCA 14-0370).\n\n **\"I'd sit there\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"We need a song for a frog\"** Davis, 256.\n\n **\"I really found it so difficult\"** \"Girl with a Heart of Goldie,\" _New Jersey Record_ , February 7, 1971.\n\n **\"one day he was working\"** See Jim's mid-1970s pitch for the unrealized television documentary _The Autumn Years_ (JHCA 13501 Misc).\n\n **\"delightful visual treat for the kids\"** _Variety_ , December 23, 1970.\n\n **\"It was their show\"** See assorted reviews, 1970 (JHCA _Great Santa Claus Switch_ folder).\n\n **\"Henson deserves credit\"** _Variety_ , December 23, 1970.\n\n **\"Time is slipping away\"** John T. Ross to JH, October 5, 1970 (JHCA _Frog Prince_ box, Prod. 17281).\n\n **\"We just can't get into that\"** Sid Adilman, _Toronto Telegram_ , March 26, 1971.\n\n **\"Jim Henson's Muppets are so humorously conceived,\" \"both kid and adult appeal,\" \"Jim Henson's Muppets are so good\"** See the memo \"Frog Prince Reviews\" from John Frango and Mike Yuro to Bill Frantz et al., June 16, 1971 (JHCA _Frog Prince_ box, Prod. 17281).\n\n **\"Good, solid entertainment\"** \"Neighbors from _Sesame Street:_ A Visit with Jane and Jim Henson,\" _Greenwich Social Review_ , 22\u201325.\n\n **\"Jim was going crazy\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"big, busy, colorful\"** \"Night Club Reviews,\" _Variety_ , June 30, 1971.\n\n **\"brought down the house\"** Norma Lee Browning, \"Slight but Super,\" _Chicago Tribune_ , June 21, 1971.\n\n **\"We tried to put together material\"** \"Henson's Muppets Star Along Las Vegas Strip,\" _Greenwich Times_ (Connecticut), June 21, 1971.\n\n **\"jarring\"** \"Night Club Review International,\" _Hollywood Reporter_ , June 23, 1971.\n\n **\"I don't particularly like,\" \"Working here [in Vegas]\"** \"Henson's Muppets Star Along Las Vegas Strip.\"\n\n **\"We spent half our time\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"a great success\"** Gwynne, \"Jim Henson and His Muppets.\"\n\n **\"My dad... always remained faithful\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"Jim was loyal to puppetry\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"The more I was associated with puppets\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"When I hear the art of puppetry discussed\"** _Being Green_ , 32.\n\n **\"That was a big difference\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"It's nice for the children\"** Gwynne, \"Jim Henson and His Muppets.\"\n\n **\"I was driving early\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"At home, we had all kinds\"** _Being Green_ , 128.\n\n **\"He loved to take a chair\"** Ibid., 2.\n\n **\"It took him a while to get comfortable\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"I've... sat on the panel as myself\"** Don Freeman, \"Henson Is Shy Actor,\" _World_ (Monroe, Louisiana), June 28, 1977.\n\n **\"He was nervous about going on\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"It's something I've always faced\"** Don Freeman, untitled radio\/TV column, _San Diego Union_ , March 17, 1975.\n\n **\"Puppeteering covers a wide range of stuff\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"it would not be supposed\"** See JHCA ideas folder.\n\n **\"We know that many people will bring children\"** JH, \"Some Thoughts on 'The Muppets in Concert' Proposed for Alice Tully Hall\u2014Early Fall, 1973\" (JHCA 14-0107).\n\n **\"This is a very unusual evening of theater\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"We loved the idea of Rowlf\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"I'm not a real dog\"** See JJ script for \"Pirandello Meets Rin Tin Tin\" (JHCA 14-0103).\n\n **\"You will pay no attention to them\"** See \"The Muppets Get It Together, Run Down: First Half\" (JHCA 02-0564).\n\n **\"present a series of contrasting moods and scale\"** JH, \"Some Thoughts on 'The Muppets in Concert' Proposed for Alice Tully Hall\u2014Early Fall, 1973.\"\n\n **\"He thought that we were applying\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"The character comes first\"** Gottfried, \"The Mastermind of the Muppets.\"\n\n **\"[Jim] was the art director\"** Caroly Wilcox, archival interview (JHCA 10356).\n\n **\"[Jim] felt concerned\"** Al Gottesman, archival interview (JHCA 10368 trans). 188 **\"the one property I've wanted to do\"** See \"List of Projects,\" early 1970s (JHCA 14-0467).\n\n **\"I was very good\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"I was a strange kid\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"[He and John] certainly cared for each other\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"increas[ing] a child's psychological awareness,\" \"a family mood with characters,\" \"by which time it is hoped\"** G. S. Lesser, _Affect Show_ draft, July 19, 1972 (JHCA 14-0028).\n\n **\"character that always sees things in abstract symbols\"** See Jim's notes for the _Affect Show_ (JHCA _Affect Show_ folder).\n\n **\"meaningful\"** Diana Birkenfield, memo, \"My Thoughts on Your New Show for CTW,\" circa 1972 (JHCA _Affect Show_ folder).\n\n **\"I'd say to him\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"stand up to him and get angry at him\"** Al Gottesman interview.\n\n **\"In my opinion\"** Birkenfield, \"My Thoughts on Your New Show for CTW.\"\n\n **\"Diana was just a bit too relentless for Jim,\" \"powerfully silent\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"Diana vs. Bernie\"** JH RB, July 27, 1973.\n\n **\"Talked to Diana Birkenfield\"** JH RB, February 6, 1974.\n\n **\"These things were never personal\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"I think it's fascinating\"** LH, email to the author, August 8, 2012.\n\n **\"My parents weren't really big on funerals\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"Mom passed on\"** JH RB, October 21, 1972.\n\n **\"account of life in the next stages of existence\"** Ruth Montgomery, _A World Beyond_ (New York: Fawcett, 1985).\n\n **\"My dad would never, ever be snippy\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"I've read and studied\"** JH, introduction, \"The Courage of My Convictions.\"\n\n **\"the innocence and the simple optimism\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"very strongly\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"One of the extraordinary things about Jim\"** _WAMI_ , 59.\n\n **\"I believe that life is basically a process of growth\"** _Being Green_ , 125.\n\n **\"awkward mess\"** JH RB, May 1972.\n\n **\"We've got to stay together for the children\"** Al Gottesman interview.\n\n **\"I looked underwater\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"Like every other first-day skier\"** _WAMI_ , 55.\n\n **\"He really didn't like to do something\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"We were all about the same level\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"[Driving] across country\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"I'm not an ecology nut\"** George Maksian, \"Jim Henson Fights Trash with Trash,\" _Los Angeles Times_ , March 26, 1973.\n\n **\"fascinated with the design process,\" \"like an assassin\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"I was starting to tap into that\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"Dad was driving fast cars\"** LH, note to the author, August 9, 2012.\n\n **\"I think... he was setting an example\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"He was so repressed\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"His repressive silence\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"I think my father was** **_very_** **intrigued\"** CH interview.\n\n \" **DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE** \" JH RB, June 11, 1973.\n\n **\"I think probably in the long run\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"I probably just kept things inside for so long\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"fiercely loyal\"** CH, email to the author.\n\n **\"Gelbart out of B'way\"** JH RB, February 17, 1973.\n\n **\"You're a better artist than you are a client\"** Walt Kraemer to JH, May 10, 1973.\n\n **\"We would carry these big\"** FO interview.\n\n## **C HAPTER EIGHT: THE MUCKING FUPPETS**\n\n **\"The time is right\"** Proposal for _The Muppet Show_ , circa 1969 (JHCA 14-0467).\n\n **\"Puppets are fortunate,\" \"The Muppets, more than any other puppets\"** See various _Muppet Show_ proposals (JHCA 14-0650, 14-0467).\n\n **\"Somehow it seems to make\"** JH to Gary Smith, ATV, September 25, 1973 (JHCA 14-0034).\n\n **\"struck with [Jim's] originality and humor\"** _WAMI_ , 84.\n\n **\"We made this special to appeal to all ages\"** Sue Cameron, \"Coast to Coast,\" _Hollywood Reporter_ , January 30, 1974.\n\n **\"absolutely delightful\"** Review of _The Muppets Valentine Show, Variety_ , February 6, 1974.\n\n **\"we blew them up,\" \"one of those great roars of appreciation\"** Gottfried, \"The Mastermind of the Muppets.\"\n\n **\"Hi, guys!\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"Bonnie Erickson's boyfriend\"** _WAMI_ , 27.\n\n **\"I find this inspired material very beautiful\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"He was always interested in getting beyond\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"I didn't believe a word of them\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"That's Jim Henson\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"someone must have needed it\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"My car was broken into,\" \"make fun of himself a little bit\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"It would be a half hour show\"** See \"List of Projects,\" circa 1973.\n\n **\"create[s] new dishes\"** See \" _The Muppet Show_ as a Series,\" circa 1975 (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"[he] was in the office every day\"** Bonnie Erickson, archival interview (JHCA 14213).\n\n **\"I used to ride with him a lot\"** BH, introduction to _The Muppet Show_ DVD. Brian remembers the tapes being recorded by comedian Sid Caesar. Oz, however, was certain it was Brickman who had made the recordings.\n\n **\"who represents the older establishment values\"** See \" _The Muppet Show_ as a Series.\"\n\n **\"These are all characters\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"He's a lot like me\"** \"Seventy New Muppets Created by Jim Henson Make Their Bow in the Special, 'The Muppets Show,' Airing on ABC, Wednesday, March 19,\" ABC Press Release, February 10, 1975 (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"Jim wanted to get out of performing a little bit\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"come over [to London] for lunch,\" \"I... was just knocked out\"** JH, private diary (JHCA 1597).\n\n **\"produced substantial negative reaction\"** Memo on \"Sex and Violence with the Muppets\" [ _sic_ ], Bob Boyett to Gloria Messina, December 6, 1974 (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"My 14-year-old daughter Lisa saw it\"** Gottfried, \"The Mastermind of the Muppets.\"\n\n **\"freak city!\"** Bernie Harrison, \"Muppets Special Brings in Spring,\" _Washington Star_ , March 19, 1975.\n\n **\"Puppets are by their very nature symbolic\"** ABC Television Network promotional materials, February 10, 1974 (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"A lot of our work has always been adult-oriented\"** Unidentified clipping, December 6, 1974 (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"He had lots of changes which were necessary\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"zippy\"** \"Television Reviews,\" _Variety_ , March 19, 1975.\n\n **\"There was a mixed reaction\"** \"REPORT: Consumer Survey taken on the evening of Wednesday, March 19, 1975 after the Jim Henson Special\" (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"Perhaps one thing that has helped me\"** _Being Green_ , 52.\n\n **\"We thought it was gonna be great\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"Puppets are funny things\"** \"Jim Henson's Self-Imposed Fantasyland,\" _Herald_ (Palatine, Illinois), November 12, 1977.\n\n **\"translat[e] Jim's philosophy and essential ethic\"** Al Gottesman, archival interview (JHCA 10368 trans).\n\n **\"fair\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"He was very interested in her opinion,\" \"ever consider joining,\" \"That was a dream,\" \"I'm very serious, Dave\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"We had to work on Jim's image\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Friends, the United States of America\"** \"The Muppets\" pitch reel script, circa 1975 (JHCA _Muppet Show_ folder).\n\n **\"If they don't buy this\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"it didn't sell\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"so that [independent] producers\"** \"FCC Limits Network Program Ownership,\" _Los Angeles Times_ , May 7, 1970.\n\n **\"something good for us\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"a wonderful goddamn thing\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"He described the show\"** Harris.\n\n **\"NBC Show\"** See Jim's daily desk calendar for 1975 (JHCA 9146).\n\n **\"We wanted to redefine comedy\"** Shales and Miller, 69.\n\n **\"NBC was so scared\"** BB, archival interview. See also interviews with BB at the Archive of American Television.\n\n **\"I'd always liked and been a fan\"** Lorne Michaels, interviewed by Judy Harris, unpublished interview, September 1982 (JHCA 21463).\n\n **\"Mystic set up\"** See Jim's notes for _Saturday Night Live_ (JHCA 14-0755).\n\n **\"a place called Gortch\"** See Jim's full proposal for \"Land of Gortch\" (JHCA 14-0755). While the sketches are usually referred to as \"The Land of Gorch,\" I am holding to Jim's spelling.\n\n **\"He was the hardest-working person\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"They had their style, we had ours\"** FO interview.\n\n **Oz grumbled** Ibid. Hansome would be replaced by Fran Brill in subsequent episodes.\n\n **\"Somehow what we were trying to do\"** Harris.\n\n **\"I think our very explosive, more cartoony comedy\"** _Star Wars Insider_ , 42, 69\u201370.\n\n **\"very frustrated\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"It was a very, very difficult premise\"** Lorne Michaels, interviewed by Judy Harris.\n\n **\"Whoever drew the short straw,\" \"I won't write for felt\"** Shales and Miller, 69\u201370.\n\n **\"They weren't interested in the Muppets\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"The Muppets were known\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"Lorne Michaels loved them\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"The good part\"** _Star Wars Insider_ , 42, 69\u201370.\n\n **\"a little grass\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **He was determined, then, to take an acid trip** This story was told, and corroborated, by interviews with Frank Oz and Jerry Nelson, as well as archival interviews with Jon Stone.\n\n **\"was not a great thing\"** BB, Archive of American Television interview, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bemmytvlegends.\u200borg\/\u200binterviews\/\u200bpeople\/\u200bbernie-\u200bbrillstein.\n\n **\"I always loved [Scred]\"** Jerry Nelson, interviewed by Kenneth Plume.\n\n **\"Lorne, being Lorne\"** BB, Archive of American Television interview.\n\n **\"see if he would do a TV series for me in England\"** _WAMI_ , 84.\n\n **\"all over the country\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"always felt Henson would be interested\"** Abe Mandell, \"Creative and Marketing Talents Wed in Selling 'Muppet Show,' \" _Variety_ , January 3, 1979.\n\n **\"I said, 'I've saved you a lot of money' \"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"We have a deal\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"We finally did it!\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"I love you\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"We're doing twenty-four half-hour shows** , **_guaranteed_** **!\"** FO interview.\n\n **Four days later** \"New Comedy-Music Show Set for Prime Access,\" _Broadcasting_ , October 27, 1975; Ruth Thomas, \"Muppets to Do Series,\" _Sunday Spectator_ , November 16\u201322, 1975; \"ITC Sells 'Muppet Show' to CBS O&Os,\" _Variety_ , October 29, 1975.\n\n **\"I always figure people stay\"** Lorne Michaels, interviewed by Judy Harris.\n\n **\"I really respect Lorne\"** Harris.\n\n **\"Dear Gang\"** See postcard from \"The Muppets\" to \"Sat. Night Live,\" circa 1977 (JHCA 14-0757).\n\n## **C HAPTER NINE: MUPPETMANIA**\n\n **\"British Louis B. Mayer\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"talking around ideas\"** JJ, _Puppetry Journal_ (Fall 2005), 6.\n\n **\"[none] of us were convinced\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"very, very little money\"** DL, archival interview. See also Guests folder (JHCA 14-0661).\n\n **\"The first... guests were\"** BB, Archive of American Television interview.\n\n **\"We got a blood bath,\" \"too British\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"Grade had told us, 'Don't be British' \"** FO interview.\n\n **\"were all wrong\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Jim was pissed at them!\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"It's not the end of the world\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"We knew we wanted to have a stand up comedian\"** \"Jim Henson's Self-Imposed Fantasyland.\"\n\n **\"Fozzie was a disaster\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Fozzie did help make Statler and Waldorf\"** _OMAM_ , 39.\n\n **\"Frank was dying,\" \"working in a vacuum,\" \"find that bear\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"real shower\"** Living arrangement memos (JHCA 20216).\n\n **\"[Jim was] accused of spoiling everyone\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"We were setting up with this room\"** Bonnie Erickson interview.\n\n **\"slightly sticking their necks out\"** Stephen Webbe, \"Muppet Mania,\" _Christian Science Monitor_ , December 1976.\n\n **\"Let's leave that in\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"[Jim] worked the hardest of anybody\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"a light day\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"I'm really enjoying it\"** Ruth E. Thompson, \"Lavish New Muppet Series Product of Henson's Wizardry with Puppets,\" _The Leader_ , October 31, 1976.\n\n **\"We phased out that ballroom dancing thing\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"What he always seemed to do best\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"these puppets are not just characters\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"How the characters play\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"He would drive [the writers] crazy,\" \"the implied joke,\" \"We can show that!,\" \"There would be fairly heated arguments\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Most TV humor is verbal\"** Morton Moss, \"Muppet Man Henson Tracks Puppets' Humor to Source,\" _Herald Examiner_ (Los Angeles), September 30, 1976.\n\n **\"Fozzie's ineptness\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"a simple guy who wants to be funny and loved\"** Jean Rook, \"Jean Rook Meets Miss Piggy,\" _Daily Express_ (London), August 19, 1977.\n\n **\"We sent the material down on the floor,\" \"They just played the hell out of it\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"funny not because of what he does\"** Bill Marvel, \"TV's Captivating Muppets Are... The Adult Kids' Show,\" _National Observer_ , May 1977.\n\n **\"He relates to the other characters\"** _WAMI_ , 33.\n\n **\"There's a bit of me in Kermit\"** Cordell Marks, \"The Muppet Men,\" _TV Times_ (U.K.), undated article.\n\n **\"I suppose he is not unlike me\"** Martin Jackson, \"Now Cool It, Miss Piggy,\" _Daily Mail_ (London), August 1977.\n\n **\"Me not crazy?\"** _The Muppet Show_ , Season 3, Episode 15.\n\n **\"a bunch of goddamn lunatics!\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"It's** **_The Mary Tyler Moore Show_** \" JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"Sometimes a character will start\"** David Hawley, \"Muppets Pull the Strings on the Children in All of Us,\" untitled clip, Milwaukee, circa 1977 (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"I was working as Miss Piggy with Jim\"** Culhane, \"The Muppets in Movieland.\"\n\n **\"The place fell apart\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Miss Piggy was to have been a minor character\"** \"Henson Muppets Bridge even Barriers of Language,\" _Greencastle Banner Graphic_ (Indiana), February 3, 1978.\n\n **\"Rowlf could have been one of the stars\"** _WAMI_ , 119.\n\n **\"Poor Rowlf\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"She takes over\"** \"The Muppets: TV's Unlikely Superstars,\" _Knickerbocker News_ (Albany, New York), June 15, 1978.\n\n **\"But let's get it straight\"** Rook, \"Jean Rook Meets Miss Piggy.\"\n\n **\"It's a man?!?\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"real, real tough,\" \"The whole** **_Muppet Show_** **conceit\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"She grew up on a small farm\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"She's sensuous and she's been hurt a lot\"** Rook, \"Jean Rook Meets Miss Piggy.\"\n\n **\"endless [and] fairly pointless,\" \"He was this little, little kid,\" \"Richard, shut up and go away!\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"I was so upset\"** Bonnie Erickson interview.\n\n **\"I was very insecure\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"Gonzo believes he is a worthless creature\"** Marks, \"The Muppet Men.\"\n\n **\"a loser who did these horrible acts\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"This could be Gonzo,\" \"this little dark frightened character\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"They loved watching Jim and Frank work\"** Dave Goelz, interviewed by Kenneth Plume, \"Gonzo Puppeteerism: An Interview with Dave Goelz,\" Muppet Central website, January 28, 2000, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bmuppetcentral.\u200bcom\/\u200barticles\/\u200binterviews\/\u200bgoelz2.\u200bshtml.\n\n **\"Jim kept saying, 'Well, do it again' \"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"Gonzo can still get very, very depressed\"** Marks, \"The Muppet Men.\"\n\n **\"As** **_I_** **got confidence** , **_he_** **got confidence\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"is an aspect of my own personality\"** _The Muppet Show_ newsletter, 1978.\n\n **\"really tough\" \"Some [guests] relate to us\"** Webbe, \"Muppet Mania.\"\n\n **\"to work in a sort of fun land\"** \"Jim Henson's Self-Imposed Fantasyland.\"\n\n **\"Although he never told people what to wear,\" \"The women stars fell in love with Jim,\" \"Listen\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"I've heard stories,\" \"Unless our guests go home\"** _OMAM_ , 24.\n\n **\"as the show kept gaining in popularity\"** BB, Archive of American Television interview.\n\n **\"The calls started coming in\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"The atmosphere and excitement\"** _WAMI_ , 84.\n\n **\"Everything all right, boys?\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"everybody has to see a monitor\"** _Of Muppets and Men: Behind the Scenes of The Muppet Show_ , television documentary, 1981.\n\n **\"I settle for a set of headphones\"** John Archibald, \"Frog in His Throat,\" _St. Louis Post-Dispatch_ , September 16, 1976.\n\n **\"Everything was play for him\"** JJ, _Puppetry Journal_ (Spring 2001): 11.\n\n **\"Jim wasn't a workaholic\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"We know each other so well\"** _OMAM_.\n\n **\"Even when they're not shooting\"** Richard K. Shull, \"Rich Little Amazed by TV's Muppets,\" _Muncie Press_ (Indiana), June 28, 1977.\n\n **\"Sorry, Jim, we have to go again\"** Peter Fiddick, \"All Hands on Deck,\" _Guardian_ (U.K.), May 23, 1977.\n\n **\"If he was driving to work\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"He laughed until he cried\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"Frank and Jim were incredible\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"The combination of Jim and Frank\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"the 70s and 80s Laurel and Hardy\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"this very intimidating figure\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"incredibly moody,\" \"Frank has this incredible thing,\" \"That's just such a shame\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"the way they could second-guess each other\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"We could be in the middle of a number,\" \"probably ten times\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"once [the meetings] started,\" \"we have to eat anyway,\" \"he'd start improvising this piece of material\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"One of Jim's real talents\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Oh well,\" \"fantastic\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"a little bit burdened\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"one of the fastest selling half-hour series\"** \"Muppets Multiply in '83,\" _Backstage_ , April 9, 1976.\n\n **\"Seeing was believing\"** Mandell, \"Creative and Marketing Talents Wed in Selling 'Muppet Show.' \"\n\n **By the beginning of the 1976 television season** _Backstage_ , September 24, 1976; \"Muppet Access Show on 162 Stations,\" _Variety_ , September 8, 1976.\n\n **\"If you have a child,\" \"Long Live the Muppets!\"** See _Chicago Tribune, Louisville Times_ clips, circa 1976 (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"bore more of the [head writer] Jack Burns touch\"** _Variety_ , September 22, 1976.\n\n **\"We are well on our way\"** Jack Burns, memo to JH, July 9, 1976 (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"was hard for Jim\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"gives me a stomachache\"** Brillstein, 150\u201351.\n\n **\"it was never personal\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"It felt like the warmest, funniest thing\"** \"Behind the Scenes Documentary,\" _Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas_ , HIT Entertainment, 2005.\n\n **\"Oh, I** **_love_** **this thing!\"** Tom Shales, \"Muppets Make Merry and Money,\" _Washington Post Radio Week_ , February 20, 1977.\n\n **\"When [Jim] chose Paul Williams\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"We all** **_love_** **the music\"** JH to Paul Williams, April 7, 1977. Emphasis in original (JHCA Misc Files, _Emmet Otter_ JBC Prod 15689).\n\n **\"I think there's some little piece\"** \"Behind the Scenes Documentary.\"\n\n **\"That was the most elaborate production\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"This was a way of working\"** \"Behind the Scenes Documentary.\"\n\n **\"so perfect and so beautiful\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"we were looking for realistic movement,\" \"Working as I do\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"Very nice\"** _Emmet Otter_ camera notes (JHCA 21473 VT Reel Breakdown #1).\n\n **\"Everything about that production was magic\"** \"Interview with Jerry Nelson,\" the Muppet Mindset website, http:\/\/\u200bthemuppetmindset.\u200bblogspot.\u200bcom\/\u200b2010\/\u200b11\/\u200binterview-\u200bwith-\u200blegendary-\u200bmuppeteer.\u200bhtml et seq.\n\n **\"one of the highlights of my career\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"I don't think he ever rode the bike!\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"It was such a good time for him\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"we needed time\"** Webbe, \"Muppet Mania.\"\n\n **\"Muppet Murderers\"** Stephen Cook, \"The Muppets Rule OK,\" _Evening Mail_ (London), March 9, 1977.\n\n **15 million faithful Britons** Rook, \"Jean Rook Meets Miss Piggy.\"\n\n **\"It's like they're creating\"** JH, private diary, circa 1977.\n\n **\"The show was a big smash hit\"** \"Interview with Jerry Nelson,\" the Muppet Mindset website.\n\n **\"rendezvous secretly\"** Cook, \"The Muppets Rule OK.\"\n\n **It was even reported** Rook, \"Jean Rook Meets Miss Piggy.\"\n\n **\"It's fantastic the way the Muppets\"** Marks, \"The Muppet Men.\"\n\n **\"I don't think or talk about superstars\"** Rook, \"Jean Rook Meets Miss Piggy.\"\n\n **\"Really, money doesn't concern me at all\"** Joe Irwin interview.\n\n **$25 million** Bill Kaufman, \"A Prince of a Frog,\" _Newsday_ (New York), August 14, 1977.\n\n **\"shabby\"** Cook, \"The Muppets Rule OK.\"\n\n **\"I feel I owe it\"** Rubis Saunders, \"The Man Behind the Muppets,\" _Young Miss_ , April 1977.\n\n **\"there were times\"** JJ, archival interview. Emphasis in original.\n\n **\"I love that show!\"** _High Fidelity_ , September 1977 (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box, press clippings).\n\n **\"Bernie was a rock\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"a great fan of the show\"** Carol Ross to DL, January 19, 1978 (JHCA TMS Guest Correspondence 11318).\n\n **\"As the show kept gaining in popularity\"** BB, Archive of American Television interview.\n\n **\"He** **_loved_** **all that James Bond kinda stuff\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"It's a kind of equanimity\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"every single restaurant in Hampstead\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"What's that thingy\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"There was no question\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"was his absolute favorite\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"We all enjoyed being around him\"** Stephanie Harrigan, \"It's Not Easy Being Blue,\" _Life_ , July 1990.\n\n **\"That's great fun for me\"** JH, private diary, 1977.\n\n **\"Up for 3\"** JH RB, September 10\u201311, 1977.\n\n **\"If some people recognize me\"** Harry Harris, \"Henson Speaks for Kermit the Frog,\" _Philadelphia Inquirer_ , July 24, 1977.\n\n **\"Dumb, dumb, dumb\"** Eliot Wald, \"Channel 11's Fall Shots: Late but with Some Power,\" _Chicago Sun-Times_ , October 14, 1977.\n\n **\"the most elegant and sophisticated creation\"** Harris.\n\n **\"most creative, entertaining\"** \"KXAS Focuses on Family,\" _Dallas Times Herald_ , September 6, 1977.\n\n **\"[Critics] didn't feel this show\"** David Hawley, \"Muppets Pull the Strings on the Children in All of Us,\" Milwaukee area newspaper, circa 1977.\n\n **\"I guess the reason for this letter\"** BB to JH, November 29, 1977.\n\n **\"He was restless\"** JS, archival interview.\n\n **\"He'd want to move on to another phase\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n## **C HAPTER TEN: LIFE'S LIKE A MOVIE**\n\n **\"Did you ever, in your wildest dreams,\" \"The honest answer to this\"** JH, private diary, 1977.\n\n **\"Jim's way of operating\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"Jim was the hardest working man\"** Spinney, 133.\n\n **\" _The_** **_Muppet Show_** **on film\"** James Frawley, \"Directing 'The Muppet Movie,' \" _American Cinematographer_ , July 1979.\n\n **\"Jim was a dreamer\"** _Being Green_ , 18.\n\n **\"Lew Grade, being a true gentleman\"** BB, Archive of American Television interview.\n\n **\"I saw Brian Froud's work\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"The thought of being able\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Make deal with B** RIAN **F** ROUD\" JH RB, August 1977.\n\n **\"When I talked to Brian\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"a pantheistic world\"** Finch, _The Making of The Dark Crystal_.\n\n **\"I was trying to figure out\"** JH, private diary, 1977.\n\n **\"looked like he belonged\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"Unlike other TV studios\"** Stephen Cook, \"The Muppets Rule OK.\"\n\n **\"fondle, molest, handle, touch or tweak\"** Hawley, \"Muppets Pull the Strings on the Children in All of Us.\"\n\n **\"They** **_hate_** **being tweaked,\" \"They're** **_all_** **the real one\"** Shales, \"Muppets Make Merry and Money.\"\n\n **\"hadn't meant\"** Spinney, 135\u201336.\n\n **\"I cried; Jim didn't\"** Bonnie Erickson interview.\n\n **\"Jim always said\"** _Being Green_ , 94.\n\n **\"Don was extremely private\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"He just stared at me\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"I was standing there crying\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"He thought maybe showing feelings\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"Jim said, 'It's okay' \"** FO interview.\n\n **\"In some ways\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"I'm sure he will go on\"** JH, private diary.\n\n **\"was a huge, massive impact\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"Frankie Fontaine voice\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"Everyone here's lovely\"** Richard Tippett, \"Muppets' Heart of Gold!\" _Look-In_ (U.K.), circa 1977.\n\n **\"She was just out there\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"there was really no place [to talk]\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"Muppet operators must be good actors\"** Moss, \"Muppet Man Henson Tracks Puppets' Humor to Source.\"\n\n **\"One thing about being a puppeteer\"** _OMAM_.\n\n **\"I had other characters to do\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"probably the person most responsible\"** _OMAM_ , 72.\n\n **\"distancing themselves\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **Nelson had even confronted Jim** Ibid.\n\n **admittedly drinking too much** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"freeze a little bit\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"I knew I was a great supporting player\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview. 280 **\"I was the workhorse,\" \"I didn't write\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"He would sit right with the writers,\" \"The other people resented it\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"There's a sub-level\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"[The Muppets] may be fighting\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **106 countries, with a total audience of 235 million** Rick Dubrow, \"Muppet Show World's Most Successful Show,\" _Herald Examiner_ (Los Angeles), circa 1978.\n\n **\"I hope they manage to make the jokes funny\"** Shirley Eder, \"Diane's off to the Cabaret,\" _Detroit Free Press_ , September 24, 1977.\n\n **\"[It's] almost certainly\"** John Skow, \"Those Marvelous Muppets,\" _Time_ , December 25, 1978.\n\n **\"the new Walt Disney\"** Times News Service Report, \"Henson's Muppets Bridge Even Barriers of Language,\" _Banner Graphic_ (Greencastle, Indiana), February 3, 1978.\n\n **\"Working with Jim Henson\"** \"Behind the Scenes Documentary,\" _Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas_ , HIT Entertainment, 2005.\n\n **\"hear them in the studio\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Up until that time\"** Peter Hertlaub, \"Q&A: 'The Muppet Movie' Director James Frawley,\" _San Francisco Chronicle_ (online version), March 2, 2007, http:\/\/\u200bblog.\u200bsfgate.\u200bcom\/\u200bparenting\/\u200b2007\/\u200b03\/\u200b02\/\u200bqa-\u200bthe-\u200bmuppet-\u200bmovie-\u200bdirector-\u200bjames-\u200bfrawley.\n\n **\"[It] was actually a very frustrating experience\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"He felt pretty good\"** Hertlaub, \"Q&A: 'The Muppet Movie' Director James Frawley.\"\n\n **\"We're taking the characters\"** \"On the Road with the Muppets,\" _Variety_ , August 20, 1978.\n\n **an accomplishment Jim noted** See JH RB, September 10, 1978.\n\n **\"If you don't dig sore arms\"** \"Sore Arms with Puppet Work,\" _Kansas City Star_ , March 12, 1978.\n\n **\"[The Muppets] had never been shot outdoors\"** Frawley, \"Directing 'The Muppet Movie.' \"\n\n **\"the single most difficult sequence\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Well, if I can fit\"** _American Cinematographer_ , July 1979.\n\n **\"no place for someone with claustrophobia\"** Webbe, \"Muppet Mania.\"\n\n **\"it was a bit frightening\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"[He] would never ask us to do anything\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"We always used to kid Jim\"** _Being Green_ , 27.\n\n **\"Everybody was eagerly awaiting him\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"right back to our childhoods\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"We take up where he left off,\" \"Dear Jim\u2014Keep the Magic Alive\"** Culhane, \"The Muppets in Movieland.\"\n\n **\"Even the most worldly of our characters\"** _Being Green_ , 25.\n\n **\"Received EMMY\"** JH RB, September 17, 1978.\n\n **\"Bullshit\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"to take a look at the lore\"** _OMAM_ , 101.\n\n **\"sheer joy\"** See correspondence (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"darling little castle\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"I want to have a place\"** JH, private diary, November 1977.\n\n **\"I didn't want a pretentious space\"** \"Home of the Muppets,\" _Interior Design_ , February 1980, 198\u2013205.\n\n **\"could cause us embarrassment\"** Joan Ganz Cooney to JH, March 23, 1979 (JHCA _Muppet Movie_ box).\n\n **\"running around screaming,\" \"wandering around in the middle of it all\"** Culhane, \"The Muppets in Movieland.\"\n\n **\"I love my work,\"** _Being Green_ , 73.\n\n **\"You had to try to keep up\"** Ibid., 57.\n\n **\"For such a giving\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"It isn't that Jim didn't have friends\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"and that's when\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"[Jim] was very close to us all\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"a great house\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"Great evening\"** JH RB, May 31, 1979.\n\n **\"I cried in the opening\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"everything follows production\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"He'd been used to running\"** _WAMI_ , 153.\n\n **\"Al [Gottesman] was in New York\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"Sure, the more Jim was in New York\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"We are primarily a company\"** _Being Green_ , 87.\n\n **\"It seems that I'm bigger now\"** Culhane, \"The Muppets in Movieland.\"\n\n **\"wanted to be part of the family\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"Jim was not preoccupied\"** Al Gottesman interview.\n\n **\"He could** **_not_** **handle it\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"I think Jim felt\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"Stop calling this company,\" \"It was a major thing\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"we'll all lose our shirts\"** \"Muppets, TV Syndicate Boffo, Readying for Their Invasion,\" _Variety_ , October 4, 1978.\n\n **\"Piggy's become a phenomenon\"** _OMAM_.\n\n **\"Great!\"** JH RB, June 22, 1979.\n\n **\"unbridled amiability\"** Vincent Canby, \"The Screen: Muppets Go to Hollywood,\" _New York Times_ , June 22, 1979.\n\n **grossing over** $65 **million:** See Box Office Mojo at http:\/\/\u200bbox\u200bofficemojo.\u200bcom\/\u200bmovies\/?\u200bid=\u200bmuppetmovie.\u200bhtm for additional details.\n\n **\"that brings tears to your eyes\"** Webbe, \"Muppet Mania.\"\n\n **\"I guess you could say\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"clan of whackos\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Kermit was Jim\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"I'm in particular awe\"** Canby, \"The Screen: Muppets Go to Hollywood.\"\n\n **\"trying to fool the audience\"** _OMAM_.\n\n **\"The reason those characters are appealing\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"If you can figure out\"** Roger Ebert, \"The Muppet Movie,\" _Chicago Sun-Times_ , November 14, 1979.\n\n **comparisons with Walt Disney** _The Washington Post_ hailed _The Muppet Movie_ as \"the latest in a progression of accomplishments which eventually should put the Muppets on par with Mickey Mouse.\" Samuel Allis, \"Mon Dieu! Mogul Meets the Muppets; Will Success Spoil Their Innocence?,\" _Washington Post_ , June 7, 1979.\n\n **\"I'm slightly uncomfortable\"** Culhane, \"The Muppets in Movieland.\"\n\n **\"It's important to me\"** Skow, \"Those Marvelous Muppets.\"\n\n **\"We were the best party givers\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"the electricians broke for tea\"** Bonnie Erickson interview.\n\n **\"[My dad] was very intrigued\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"delightful weekend\"** JH RB, September 21\u201323, 1979.\n\n **\"It would look so otherworldly\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"Neat!\"** JH RB, October 19, 1979.\n\n **viewers slow to return** Glenn Aylett, \"Strike Out,\" Transdiffusion Broadcasting System, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200btransdiffusion.\u200borg\/\u200btmc\/\u200bthames\/\u200bstrikeout.\u200bphp.\n\n **mumbling only half-audible responses** Elisabeth Bumiller, \"Homecoming: Muppets and Memories at Maryland,\" _Washington Post_ , November 5, 1979.\n\n **\"I can honestly say\"** See John Denver's note to the 1996 Laserlight CD rerelease of _John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together_ (Laserlight 12 761).\n\n **\"It's discouraging to see\"** Tom Shales, \"Fluff That Satisfies,\" _Washington Post_ , December 5, 1979.\n\n **\"He was easily proud, actually\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"lovely\"** JH RB, December 1979.\n\n \" ** _The Muppet Movie_** **has grossed around** 75 **million\"** JH RB, last entry for 1979.\n\n \"A VERY MAJOR BIG YEAR\" JH RB, undated, final entry of 1979.\n\n## **C HAPTER ELEVEN: THE WORLD IN HIS HEAD**\n\n **\"Back in the sixties,\" \"When you try to get people\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"too big to handle\"** JH, American Film Institute seminar, with Jim Henson, Elton H. Rule Lecture Series in Communications, April 14, 1989 (JHCA 7974).\n\n **\"It was the juxtaposition\"** Anne Tasker, Approved _Dark Crystal_ Production Notes (JHCA 14-0260).\n\n **\"perhaps a lodestone\"** Treatment for _Mithra_ , August 4, 1977 (JHCA _Dark Crystal_ box).\n\n **\"Normally you write the script first\"** Tasker, Approved _Dark Crystal_ Production Notes.\n\n **\"struggle through terrible dangers\"** \"The Crystal: A Fantasy Adventure Film conceived by Jim Henson, designed by Brian Froud, dimensionalized by The Muppets\" pitch book, circa summer 1979 (JHCA 770).\n\n **\"I felt that if we gave too much time\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"He was always interested in the idea\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"Jim wanted to do** **_The Crystal_** \" DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"The idea of doing very naturalistic creatures\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"In England, while we were making\"** Rinzler, 71.\n\n **\"Working with S** TAR **W** ARS **on Y** ODA\" JH RB, November 1978.\n\n **\"It became a mutual thing,\" \"I thought he was the best puppeteer,\" \"Jim called me into his trailer\"** Rinzler, 71.\n\n **\"it was acting, not just performing\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"They were building a special effect\"** Kathy Mullen interview.\n\n **\"really fuckin' heavy\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"It was** **_very_** **hard\"** Kathy Mullen interview.\n\n **\"It was just the sort of thing\"** Michael Stein and Jessie Hortsing, \"Muppeteer Jim Henson and Star Wars Producer Gary Kurtz Talk About Their Newest Project: _The Dark Crystal_ ,\" _Fantastic Films_ , February 1983.\n\n **\"loved\"** JH RB, January 1980.\n\n **\"beautiful suits\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"How much do you think that costs?\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"Was that all right?\"** Arthur Novell interview.\n\n **\"The long range product\"** Skow, \"Those Marvelous Muppets.\"\n\n **\"After five seasons\"** Judith Feingold, \"An Interview with Jim Henson,\" circa 1980, unmarked clipping (JHCA _Muppet Show_ box).\n\n **\"because I so enjoy those movies\"** Production notes, _The Great Muppet Caper_ (JHCA _Great Muppet Caper_ box).\n\n **\"joyful\"** JH, \"Thoughts on MM2\" (JHCA 10616).\n\n **\"There are a great many problems\"** JH to Martin Starger, February 11, 1980 (JHCA 17932).\n\n **\"not looking good\"** JH RB, March 1980.\n\n **\"We were really interested in nonlinear storytelling\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"Lord Grade's office chartered a flight\"** _Being Green_ , 144.\n\n **\"I thought it [Cannes] was trashy\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"[It] seemed to do a shimmer dance\"** _Being Green_ , 144.\n\n **\"That's the money\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"And he just said to me\"** Jocelyn Stevenson interview.\n\n **\"I want to talk with him about an idea I have\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"I said, 'She'll be great!,' \" \"You were right\"** BH interview.\n\n **world is coming to an end** When the fifth season of _The Muppet Show_ finally aired, the Gene Kelly episode would actually be televised first, further obscuring the \"end of the world\" joke.\n\n **\"All at Elstree hope the Muppets will return\"** Jack Greenwood to John Krawiec, August 1980 (JHCA correspondence box).\n\n **\"We finished our 120th** **_Muppet Show_** \" Feingold, \"An Interview with Jim Henson.\"\n\n **\"was a great adventure for all of us\"** CH, email to author.\n\n **\"really didn't like being by himself\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"somewhat public,\" \"It horrified him\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"I think [Jim] was evaluating\"** Steve Whitmire interview.\n\n **\"For the life of him\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"make or break someone's day\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"I feel a little distant from you\"** Ossie Morris to JH, July 14, 1980 (JHCA 17934).\n\n **\"It has taken me twenty years,\" \"Usually the cameraman insists\"** _The Great Muppet Caper_ , production notes (JHCA _Muppet Caper_ production box).\n\n **\"My dad wanted me to just figure it out,\" \"Brian, you did a really\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"something new\u2014something to talk about\"** See Jim's handwritten notes on _The Great Muppet Caper_ (JHCA 10616).\n\n **\"If I had to search out\"** JH, \"Guilty Pleasures,\" November 1982 (JHCA 10242).\n\n **\"So as soon as Frank\"** Caroly Wilcox, archival interview (JHCA 10356).\n\n **\"He had no patience for\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"so the whole place,\" \"It was quite elaborate\"** JH, AFI seminar, April 14, 1989.\n\n **\"it was difficult at times\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"Jerry, that's what insurance companies are** **_for_** \" Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"It [** ** _Dark Crystal_** **]** **had become overblown\"** Kathy Mullen interview.\n\n **\"It was the focus\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"He had it in his head\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"a prospect for perennial usage\"** _Variety_ , December 24, 1980.\n\n **\"charming\"** John J. O'Connor, \"TV: Whole New Cast of Muppets,\" _New York Times_ , December 15, 1980.\n\n **\"I want to do a children's television show\"** Jocelyn Stevenson interview.\n\n **\"we talked about doing a show\"** Michael Frith interview.\n\n **\"Something that [Jim] had been observing\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"[Jim's] genius\"** Jocelyn Stevenson interview.\n\n **\"What the show is really about\"** _Woozle World_ treatment, April 3, 1981 (JHCA 10650).\n\n **\"Jim asked Jerry and Jocelyn and me\"** Michael Frith interview.\n\n **\"We sat around and talked\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Fraggle Rock** **was a true depiction\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"I have wound up doing things\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"he'd make each one of you feel\"** Jocelyn Stevenson interview.\n\n **\"Nobody's ever developed a television series\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Creatively, I find I work best\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"there was some difficulty blending together\"** Tasker, Approved _Dark Crystal_ Production Notes.\n\n **\"I think it would be better,\" \"To Jim, that was the most important thing\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"You have all of these techniques\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"When we're doing major characters\"** JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"My father had a unique way of working\"** Finch, _The Making of The Dark Crystal_ , 11\u201312.\n\n **\"We knew when we went into this film\"** JH, \"Guilty Pleasures.\"\n\n **\"Mimes, Dancers and Actors\"** Advertisement, _Stage and Television Today_ , May 29, 1980.\n\n **\"Performers were on their haunches\"** _The Making of The Dark Crystal_ , documentary.\n\n **\"I think the idea of conceiving\"** Stein and Hortsing, \"Muppeteer Jim Henson and Star Wars Producer Gary Kurtz Talk About Their Newest Project: _The Dark Crystal_.\"\n\n **\"We could never have tried\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"He was trying to reach out\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"I guess I've always been most intrigued\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"It has a lot of elements of fairy tales\"** Tasker, Approved _Dark Crystal_ Production Notes.\n\n **\"a story about genocide\"** Michael Frith interview.\n\n **\"We are working with primary images\"** Tasker, Approved _Dark Crystal_ Production Notes.\n\n **\"Well, we can't all be perfect\"** Michael Frith interview.\n\n **\"had pretty much come to a common feeling\"** JH, \"Guilty Pleasures.\"\n\n **\"Things were** **_not_** **smooth\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"Jim didn't tell you what to do\"** _Being Green_ , 35.\n\n **\"Jim had the head of a producer\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"He saw the movie in his head\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"Everyone knows how a human moves\"** Tasker, Approved _Dark Crystal_ Production Notes.\n\n **\"I've never done any performing\"** Stein and Hortsing, \"Muppeteer Jim Henson and Star Wars Producer Gary Kurtz Talk About Their Newest Project: _The Dark Crystal_ ,\" 55.\n\n **\"was just too damn busy\"** Kathy Mullen interview.\n\n **\"I really do believe\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"You see this character walking\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"You have to be concerned\"** Finch, _The Making of The Dark Crystal_ , 60.\n\n **\"an exercise in logistics,\" \"This just never ends,\" \"It was massive\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"You went off and built this great career\"** Joan Ganz Cooney, interviewed by Jim Henson for production of _The Jim Henson Hour_ , October 26, 1988 (JHCA 7965).\n\n **\"grueling work,\" \"had a wonderful time,\" \"It was just so great\"** JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"sure hand in guiding\"** Film Reviews, _Variety_ , June 25, 1981.\n\n **an old Hollywood power couple** Vincent Canby, \"Screen: Miss Piggy Stars in 'Great Muppet Caper,' \" _New York Times_ , June 26, 1981.\n\n **\"humanity, tenderness and intelligence\"** Rex Reed, \"Musical Muppets Merely Marvelous,\" _Daily News_ (New York), June 26, 1981.\n\n **\"[Jim] was just like a little kid, beaming\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"Yeah, she was absolutely no bullshit\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"We said, 'All right' \"** Michael Frith interview.\n\n **\"But I really have to thank Jim\"** Karen Prell, interviewed by Kenneth Plume and Phillip Chapman, \"Animateer Karen Prell: An Interview with Puppeteer, Animator and Writer,\" MuppetCentral, September 11, 1998, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bmuppetcentral.\u200bcom\/\u200barticles\/\u200binterviews\/\u200bprell.\u200bshtml.\n\n **\"I think we went through the motions\"** Dave Goelz, interviewed by Kenneth Plume, \"Gonzo Puppeteerism: An Interview with Dave Goelz,\" MuppetCentral, January 28, 2000, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bmuppetcentral.\u200bcom\/\u200barticles\/\u200binterviews\/\u200bgoelz3.\u200bshtml.\n\n **\"I really pushed to do that character\"** Steve Whitmire, interviewed by Kenneth Plume, \"Ratting Out: An Interview with Steve Whitmire,\" MuppetCentral, July 19, 1999, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bmuppetcentral.\u200bcom\/\u200barticles\/\u200binterviews\/\u200bwhitmire1.\u200bshtml.\n\n **\"just kind of finding out who they were\"** Kathy Mullen interview.\n\n **\"I like to think\"** \"Two Days with Trevor Jones at the Phone,\" _BSOSpirit_ , June 2004, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bbsospirit.\u200bcom\/\u200bentrevistas\/\u200btjones_e.\u200bphp.\n\n **\"It was a clash\"** \"Robert Holmes \u00e0 Court, 53, Dies; Australian Built Business Empire,\" _New York Times_ , September 30, 1990.\n\n **\"Holmes \u00e0 Court was a cold\"** FO interview.\n\n **as quickly as possible** While Henson Associates business manager Al Gottesman recalled Jim wanting to purchase the film from ACC immediately following the film's premiere in Detroit in July, an April 29, 1982, letter from Holmes \u00e0 Court to Jim reveals Jim and Holmes \u00e0 Court had actually been in discussion for some time. See M. R. H. Holmes \u00e0 Court to JH, April 29, 1982 (JHCA 9756).\n\n \" ** _Fraggle Rock_** **is the first show\"** JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"He just let it be what it was\"** Steve Whitmire interview.\n\n **\"I think of myself as fairly limited\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"Jim was a huge gadget fan\"** Bacon, 14.\n\n \" ** _Dark Crystal_** **was a** $25 **million R &D project\"** Michael Frith interview.\n\n **\"Neat\"** This response was typical. See JH RB.\n\n **\"it was very special\"** Steve Whitmire interview.\n\n **\"[Cantus] was great\"** Jocelyn Stevenson interview.\n\n **\"The idea\"** JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"completely endearing,\" \"fetchingly whimsical\"** John O'Connor, \"TV Weekend: Five Hours of 'Lazy,' \" _New York Times_ , February 24, 1984; Tom Shales, \"The Fraggle Factor,\" _Washington Post_ , January 10, 1983.\n\n **\"unprecedented\"** Associated Press, \"Names in the News,\" April 7, 1989.\n\n **\"a very nice project\"** JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"to make final decisions\"** JH memo to Everybody, \"Sneak Previews\u2014Dark Crystal,\" March 10, 1982 (JHCA 9756).\n\n **\"going on forever,\" \"What did you think?\"** Michael Frith interview.\n\n **\"close to being an epic\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"He was so proud of it\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"Not great\"** JH RB, March 19, 1982.\n\n **As the theater emptied** FO interview.\n\n **\"a big miscalculation\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"The movie went off\"** FO interview. Memories are conflicted on when, exactly, executives from Universal first saw the film, with Oz recalling a viewing in Hollywood and Al Gottesman remembering a showing in London.\n\n **\"He felt the studio\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"[There was] that sense of dismay\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"It was a huge overhaul\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"running a tape backwards and forward\"** David Odell, \"Reflections on Making The Dark Crystal and Working with Jim Henson,\" _The Dark Crystal: Creation Myths_ (graphic novel) (Los Angeles: Archaia, 2013).\n\n **\"A bit better\"** JH RB, July 12, 1982.\n\n **\"too boring,\" \"He felt that the movie was about a balance\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **Jim decided he'd had enough** Again, memories are foggy on whether it was his annoyance with Universal or ACC, following the Detroit premiere, that drove Jim to purchase the film from ACC. While Jim was annoyed with Universal, they had no financial investment in the film\u2014at least beyond distribution\u2014so Jim's decision to purchase the film from ACC would have no direct impact on his relationship with Universal, making it unlikely the studio had triggered his response. However, Al Gottesman, whose memory is more reliable on these things, recalled Jim phoning him on the way back from Detroit and saying that Grade [ _sic_ ] and ACC didn't understand his film. Oz, too, recalled it this way.\n\n **\"I can't work like this,\" \"There was really only one thing he could do\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"I'm going to buy back** **_The Dark Crystal_** \" BB, archival interview.\n\n **Brillstein was stunned, \"And most of the time he was right\"** This section is based on personal and archival interviews with BB, DL, CH, and Jane Henson.\n\n **\"It was a huge gamble\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"It was a good deal\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"What happened to the Muppets,\" \"They're not there,\" \"We're not telling!\"** John Calloway interview with JH, WLS-TV Chicago, November 23, 1982.\n\n **\"With all of the developments\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"a watered down J. R. R. Tolkien\"** Vincent Canby, \"Review: Henson's Crystal,\" _New York Times_ , December 17, 1982.\n\n **\"Jim Henson and his colleagues\"** Gary Arnold, \"The Finest in Fantasy,\" _Washington Post_ , December 21, 1982.\n\n **\"enjoyable [and] imaginative\"** John Engstrom, \" 'Dark Crystal' Is Fantastic!,\" _Boston Globe_ , December 18, 1982.\n\n **\"sketchy\"** \"Film Review: The Dark Crystal,\" _Variety_ , December 15, 1982.\n\n **\"The** **_Dark Crystal_** **really polarized opinion\"** Bacon, 15.\n\n **\"I find that often\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"I felt sad for Jim\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"I thought I had failed miserably\"** Kathy Mullen interview.\n\n **\"The most impressive thing\"** FO interview.\n\n## **C HAPTER TWELVE: TWISTS AND TURNS**\n\n **\"We have been very pleased\"** JH to Daniel Burge, January 27, 1983 (JHCA 9878).\n\n **\"first time\"** JH RB, March 2, 1983.\n\n **\"was a huge undertaking\"** JH to Daniel Burge, January 27, 1983 (JHCA 9878).\n\n **\"In this business, there is nothing more compelling\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"He loved the good things\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"He wanted my mom to be happy\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"I can't come back here\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"handshake of a separation\"** Ibid. Despite Jane's kind categorization, the separation was, in fact, very legal.\n\n **\"have an above-board independent life\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"escalated quickly\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"painful and inevitable\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"really upset,\" \"There was a part of me\"** Heather Henson interview.\n\n **\"I was looking at the year ahead\"** \"Interview with Jim Henson,\" _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ DVD, Special Feature.\n\n **\"I had learned a lot about directing\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"The next one will be\"** Leslie Stackel, \"Jim Henson: Master of Muppets,\" _Starlog_ , August 1984.\n\n **\"This time\"** Froud, _The Goblins of Labyrinth_ , 139.\n\n **\"I immediately pictured a baby\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"What is the philosophy of [the] film?\"** See Jim's notes on \"The Labyrinth\" (JHCA 10732).\n\n **\"We played around with various story lines\"** _Labyrinth_ production notes.\n\n **\"define and inspire\"** Froud, _The Goblins of Labyrinth_ , 14\u201315, 140.\n\n **\"way too over jokey,\" \"I asked Jim\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"very precise in terms of his characters\"** \"Interview with Jim Henson,\" _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ DVD, Special Feature.\n\n **\"There's a sense of our characters\"** _Being Green_ , 91.\n\n **\"We did our first film in Los Angeles\"** _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ production notes.\n\n **\"We got a very nice, happy feeling\"** \"Interview with Jim Henson,\" _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ DVD, Special Feature.\n\n **\"I thought, 'Well, getting a degree\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"it was under an umbrella of safety,\" \"I fucked up\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"We sort of go up and down\"** Stackel, \"Jim Henson: Master of Muppets.\" 359 **\"an opportunity to stretch\"** \"Interview with Jim Henson,\" _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ DVD, Special Feature.\n\n **\"He'd say, 'I can't be expected' \"** Steve Whitmire interview.\n\n **\"I'm just an actor,\" \"The argument will continue on\"** Stackel, \"Jim Henson: Master of Muppets.\"\n\n \"shooting **M** uppet babies in **M** ovie\" JH RB, August 29, 1983.\n\n **\"short, stubby arms and legs,\" \"very difficult\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"It becomes quite a game\"** JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"Things spring up in your head\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"to worry about it\"** \"Interview with Jim Henson,\" _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ DVD, Special Feature.\n\n **\"Puppetry is a very wide field\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Jim started the Foundation\"** Allelu Kurten, quoted on the Jim Henson Foundation website.\n\n **\"We see frequently puppets\"** JH, \"Some Professional Ethics,\" _Puppetry Journal_ (1975): 24.\n\n **\"Getting started was really difficult\"** Connie Peterson, quoted on \"Jim Henson's Red Book\" website, July 6, 2011, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bhenson.\u200bcom\/\u200bjimsredbook\/\u200b2011\/\u200b07\/\u200b06\/\u200b741983.\n\n **\"be Jim when Jim wasn't there\"** Bacon, 14.\n\n **\"I was always chomping at the bit\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"a really marvelous idea\"** John Cleese to JH, June 1, 1984 (JHCA 8708 corr). 365 **\"Your contributions to** **_Labyrinth_** \" JH to Terry Jones, October 31, 1983 (JHCA 9888).\n\n **\"I filled sketchbook upon sketchbook\"** \"Inside the Labyrinth\" documentary, transcript (JHCA, _Labyrinth_ box).\n\n **\"poetic novella\"** Owen Williams, \"Dance Magic Dance: 25 Years of Labyrinth,\" _Empire_ , 201, 272.\n\n **\"I sat at my desk\"** \"Inside the Labyrinth\" documentary.\n\n \" **You're going to let kids\"** Arthur Novell interview.\n\n **\"I'd always stayed away from Saturday morning\"** JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"the right way to meet our characters for the first time\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"have a nice reason for being\"** JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"can be used to develop creativity\"** JH to Michael Frith, \"Notes on Marvel Productions, The Muppet Babies,\" circa 1984 (JHCA 8497).\n\n **\"At some point in my life\"** _Being Green_ , 159.\n\n **\"recharged and re-inspired,\" \"The beauty of nature\"** Ibid., 139.\n\n **\"One of my happiest moments\"** JH, \"The Courage of My Convictions.\"\n\n **\"while we were considering\"** Adam Pirani, \"Part Two: Into the Labyrinth with Jim Henson,\" _Starlog_ , August 1986.\n\n **\"happening** **_now_** \" John Henson interview.\n\n **\"Jim... outlined his basic concept\"** _Labyrinth_ production notes.\n\n **\"If you like the script\"** \"Inside the Labyrinth\" documentary.\n\n **\"I'd always wanted to be involved\"** _Labyrinth_ production notes.\n\n **\"I thought it was fair,\" \"We'll see\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"not original\"** Roger Ebert, review of _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ , January 1, 1984, http:\/\/\u200brogerebert.\u200bsuntimes.\u200bcom\/\u200bapps\/\u200bpbcs.\u200bdll\/\u200barticle?\u200bAID=\/\u200b19840101\/\u200bREVIEWS\/\u200b401010362.\n\n **\"It doesn't have enough lunacy\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"a terminally sappy idea\"** Gary Arnold, \"The Muppet Mope,\" _Washington Post_ , July 14, 1984.\n\n **\"that brown film\"** Various Muppet performers and builders called it this.\n\n **\"I was always keen\"** Bacon, 16.\n\n **\"the first time my father\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"The Mad Hatter's face\"** Ibid., 17.\n\n **\"The characters are just not Muppets at all\"** Harris.\n\n **\"I feel I've always done well\"** JH Quotes.\n\n **\"people say, 'you really should' \"** Harris.\n\n **\"more oriented to the Muppets\"** JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"Muppet performer\"** See Jim's corrections to the Apple copy, 1984 (JHCA general correspondence A-C box).\n\n **\"The terms that I mentioned\"** Robert Holmes \u00e0 Court to JH, telegram, March 28, 1984 (JHCA 8808).\n\n **\"We would have no company today\"** LH interview. In the final agreement, Jim purchased all 120 episodes of _The Muppet Show_ , _The Muppet Movie_ , _The Great Muppet Caper_ , and the television specials _Of Muppets and Men_ , _The Muppets Go Hollywood_ , _The Muppets Go to the Movies_ , and _The Fantastic Miss Piggy Show_ , as well as the rights to all original music in all of the above Muppet properties.\n\n **\"simply heroic\"** Al Gottesman interview.\n\n **\"[It was] about the world\"** Kim Johnson, _Life Before and After Monty Python_ (Plexus, 1993), 210.\n\n **\"We've got a live actress playing the part\"** See \"Jim Henson's Red Book\" website, January 29, 2011, entry, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bhenson.\u200bcom\/\u200bjimsredbook\/\u200b2011\/\u200b01\/\u200b29\/\u200b1291985.\n\n **\"dark and cynical\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"just right for the role\"** _Labyrinth_ production notes.\n\n **\"Puppets are a lot like masks\"** \"Jim Henson's Red Book\" website, May 7, 2011, entry, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bhenson.\u200bcom\/\u200bjimsredbook\/\u200b2011\/\u200b05\/\u200b07\/\u200b571983.\n\n **\"I have a good group of people\"** JH, AFI seminar, April 14, 1989.\n\n **\"hand out the 'attaboys' \"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"He didn't wonder if his own work was good\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"If you like one person\"** JH to Arthur Shimkin, March 11, 1981 (JHCA 17954).\n\n **\"When you first encounter the kind of energy\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"dramatize the fact\"** \"Fraggle Rock: Notes for Season Four,\" circa 1984 (JHCA _Fraggle Rock_ box).\n\n **\"travel around the world\"** JH memo to Management Forum, \"Re: After Fraggle Rock,\" March 14, 1984 (JHCA 8497).\n\n **\"It takes a lot of rehearsing\"** \"Inside the Labyrinth\" documentary.\n\n **\"Everyone has to work closely\"** _Labyrinth_ production notes.\n\n **\"didn't feel that it was very much mine\"** Johnson, _Life Before and After Monty Python_ , 210.\n\n **\"stunned\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"Jim was hurt\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"It's a big one\"** JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"In the beginning it was hard,\" \"I found I could talk very straight to her\"** \"Inside the Labyrinth\" documentary.\n\n **\"Once I'd overcome the disorientation\"** _Labyrinth_ production notes.\n\n **\"[Bowie] has been wonderful to work with\"** JH memo to Management Forum, \"London Update,\" July 30, 1985 (JHCA 2460).\n\n **\"a completely free hand\"** _Labyrinth_ production notes.\n\n **\"a spoiled child,\" \"[He's] a very normal\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"Supposedly, David Bowie went around looking for us\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"Jim is undoubtedly\"** _Labyrinth_ production notes.\n\n **\"Late in the story\"** \"Inside the Labyrinth\" documentary.\n\n **\"this was the most complicated thing,\" \"I suddenly had this idea\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"It's certainly one of the most bizarre\"** _Labyrinth_ production notes.\n\n **\"When you've had an idea\"** \"Inside the Labyrinth\" documentary.\n\n **\"I never leave the studio\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"Rather than laying everyone off,\" \"By keeping a group of people together,\" \"He had tried to approach the problem,\" \"it would have almost been nepotism\"** Bacon, 19.\n\n **\"He was the first one\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"He was a modest guy\"** Susan Schindehette, \"Legacy of a Gentle Genius,\" _People_ , June 18, 1990.\n\n **\"He was very conservative\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"My dad was** **_naughty_** \" BH interview.\n\n **a meeting with a Swedish filmmaker** This story was constructed from interviews with Duncan Kenworthy, Brian Henson, and Dave Goelz.\n\n **\"was really quite beautiful\"** JH, AFI seminar, April 14, 1989.\n\n **\"money were no object,\" \"Television is one of the greatest connectors around\"** _Muppet Voyager_ proposal (JHCA 21272).\n\n **\"Those last four shows\"** Larry Mirkin interview.\n\n **\"We who were totally involved\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"I think we all cried\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"This whole project has been a joy from the beginning\"** See video footage of _Fraggle Rock_ wrap party, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200byoutube.\u200bcom\/\u200bwatch?v=\u200bC3kUKjym1nw.\n\n **\"Jim wanted to make a difference\"** _Being Green_ , 152.\n\n **\"When I go see a film\"** \"Inside the Labyrinth\" documentary.\n\n **\"fabulous\"** Nina Darnton, \"Screen: Jim Henson's 'Labyrinth,' \" _New York Times_ , June 27, 1986.\n\n **\"[It's] obviously made\"** Roger Ebert, review of _Labyrinth, Chicago Sun-Times_ , June 27, 1986.\n\n **\"[It] has quite a lot going for it\"** Nick Riddick, review of _Labyrinth, Cinema Papers_ , June 1986.\n\n **\"A crashing bore\"** Review of _Labyrinth, Variety_ , June 1986.\n\n **\"Jim Henson knows what he's doing\"** Gene Siskel, \"Henson's Wizardry Lost in 'Labyrinth,' \" _Chicago Tribune_ , June 30, 1986.\n\n **\"series of incidents\"** Ebert, review of _Labyrinth_.\n\n **\"loses its way\"** Review of _Labyrinth, Variety_ , June 1986.\n\n **\"I didn't give a fuck\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"costly bore\"** Review of _Labyrinth, Variety_ , June 1986.\n\n **\"I was stunned and dazed\"** Therese L. Wells, \"Henson: From Muppets to 'Storyteller,' \" _Hollywood Reporter_ , January 30, 1987.\n\n **\"[It] was a real blow\"** Schindehette, \"Legacy of a Gentle Genius.\"\n\n **\"I think that was the closest\"** Harrigan, \"It's Not Easy Being Blue.\"\n\n **Arthur Novell, Jim's publicist** Markham\/Novell Communications Ltd. was Jim's agency of record. Novell was the primary liaison with Henson Associates and would become a trusted confidant.\n\n **\"[It was] really despair\"** Arthur Novell interview.\n\n **\"absolutely the closest project to him\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"That movie looked exactly\"** Larry Mirkin interview.\n\n **\"Take a look at** **_Labyrinth_** \" FO interview.\n\n **\"Life is a kind of labyrinth\"** _Labyrinth_ production notes.\n\n **\"You know\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n## **C HAPTER THIRTEEN: STORYTELLER**\n\n **\"wasn't the movie audiences,\" \"obviously, the picture,\" \"I work in one capacity\"** Wells, \"Henson: From Muppets to 'Storyteller.' \"\n\n **\"these huge, grandiose visions\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"looking to all the world\"** JH, introduction to _The Tale of the Bunny Picnic_.\n\n **\"it was really fun to make puppets again\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"Having done the Muppet stuff\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"See how Jane reacts to all this,\" \"were sizing each other up\"** Arthur Novell interview.\n\n **\"She was spirited, outgoing\"** Al Gottesman interview.\n\n **\"Jim really used his hands\"** Mary Ann Cleary, email to the author, April 12, 2012.\n\n **\"that really capture the flavor\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"Most folktales\"** Wells, \"Henson: From Muppets to 'Storyteller.' \"\n\n **\"the words, and the sound of a man's voice\"** Alan Jones, \"The Storyteller,\" _Cinefantastique_ , circa 1987.\n\n **\"He was the absolute top of the heap\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"[Jim] told me he had an idea\"** Anthony Minghella, archival interview.\n\n **\" 'sculpted foot syndrome' \"** Duncan Kenworthy to JH, July 9, 1986 (JHCA 18521).\n\n **\"I really don't think we could sustain,\" \"some of the prettiest television we've ever done\"** Diane Haithman, \"The Muppet Man Joins His Cuddly Crew; Henson Variety Show Will Debut Tonight,\" _Los Angeles Times_ , April 14, 1989.\n\n **\"As much as he loved objects\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"[Tartikoff] loves it\"** Duncan Kenworthy to Brian Froud, November 12, 1986 (JHCA 12140).\n\n **\"I thought it was just terrific\"** JH to Paul Reubens, September 15, 1986 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"we're going to have great fun\"** JH to Phil Ramone, August 20, 1986 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"broken-family Christmas\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"consistently dark, victimized, and pessimistic\"** Larry Mirkin to JH, \"re IN TV,\" January 2, 1987 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"It's time to stop thinking of him\"** Wells, \"Henson: From Muppets to 'Storyteller.' \"\n\n **\"When a show arrives\"** Walter Goodman, \"John Hurt Stars in 'The Storyteller,' \" _New York Times_ , January 30, 1987.\n\n **\"one of Jim Henson's finest moments\"** Matt Roush, \"Henson's 'Storyteller' Is a Beautiful Beast,\" _USA Today_ , January 29, 1987.\n\n **\"It is our responsibility\"** \"A Message from Jim Henson,\" _The Storyteller_.\n\n **\"it's very hard to just visit\"** Anthony Minghella, archival interview.\n\n **\"I think Jim felt\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **150 employees** Francis X. Clines, \"Mr. Muppet's Empire Is Thriving,\" _New York Times_ , October 25, 1987.\n\n **idealist** JH Myers-Briggs results (JHCA 10249).\n\n **\"work for common good\"** JH notes (JHCA 23509).\n\n **\"I've never particularly wanted\"** Monika Guttman, \"Father of Muppets Diversifies,\" _Kenosha News_ (Wisconsin), December 13, 1987.\n\n **\"The lawyers would all fight\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"many of whom\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, June 23, 1987 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"It's almost like the early days\"** Jones, \"The Storyteller.\"\n\n **\"in the same grand tradition\"** Proposal for _The Jim Henson Hour_ , late 1987 (JHCA 15814).\n\n **\"In the many years we've been on television\"** JH, _The Jim Henson Hour_ pitch reel, December 1987, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200byoutube.\u200bcom\/\u200bwatch?v=\u200boALgQAEH_Ok.\n\n **\" _The_** **_Muppet Show_** **of the future!\"** _Lead-Free TV_ proposal (JHCA 15814).\n\n **\"unlimited potential,\" \"We're tremendously excited\"** Proposal for _The Jim Henson Hour_ , late 1987 (JHCA 15814).\n\n **\"I thought that was a wonderful way\"** Kevin Clash interview.\n\n **\"Imagination is what this show is all about\"** _The Jim Henson Hour_ pitch reel.\n\n **\"quite well,\" \"lovely\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, September 29, 1987 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"He doesn't do a lot of puppeteering anymore\"** \"Jim Henson Organizes a Reunion of Muppets,\" _News-Press\/Gazette_ (St. Joseph, Missouri), December 1987.\n\n **\"cherished,\" \"There's a nice, naive quality\"** Matt Roush, \"Warm Your Spirit in a Muppet Wonderland,\" _USA Today_ , December 1987.\n\n **\"I think people relate\"** Candace Burke-Block, \"Kermit, Miss Piggy, Henson, and Company Host Holiday Flick,\" _Westsider_ (Goodyear, Arizona), December 17, 1987.\n\n **\"taking them [the Muppets] on an archeological adventure,\" \"specific and explicit\"** JH to Brian Muehl, January 23, 1987 (JHCA 22024).\n\n **\"figure out a way\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"this cheesy, terrible plot\"** JJ, interviewed by D. W. McKim and Phillip Chapman, July 24, 1998, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bmuppetcentral.\u200bcom\/\u200barticles\/\u200binterviews\/\u200bjuhl1.\u200bshtml.\n\n **\"It's going to be the kind of movie\"** FO to JH and Jerry Juhl, December 5, 1987 (JHCA 17236).\n\n **\"a rich and mysterious\"** Proposal for _The Jim Henson Hour_.\n\n **\"We should be creating a kind of basis\"** Andrew J. McCarthy, \"Muppets on His Mind,\" _Total Television_ , December 1987.\n\n **\"mixed feelings\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, December 17, 1987 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"I like working collaboratively with people\"** _Being Green_ , 73.\n\n **\"all the work that I do in television\"** JH, remarks at the Television Hall of Fame induction, November 15, 1987.\n\n **\"It's very exciting\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, December 17, 1987.\n\n **\"We were working on** **_Storyteller_** \" Diane Holloway, \"Prime-Time Puppets: Henson and Children's Pals Create an Unusual Mix in Hourlong Series,\" _Austin American-Statesman_ , April 2, 1989.\n\n## **C HAPTER FOURTEEN: A KIND OF CRAZINESS**\n\n **\"[I was] in a meeting with NBC yesterday\"** JH to Bill Prady et al., January 19, 1988 (JHCA 15815). Prady would go on to develop such top-rated TV shows as _The Big Bang Theory_.\n\n **\"nasty\"** Mira Velimirovic to JH, April 18, 1988 (JHCA 22030).\n\n **\"I don't like this\"** Roald Dahl to JH, December 2, 1986 (JHCA _The Witches_ production file).\n\n **\"for very valid reasons,\" \"It is one of my favorite projects\"** JH to Roald Dahl, December 9, 1986 (JHCA _The Witches_ production file).\n\n **\"I will tell you\"** Roald Dahl to JH, February 28, 1988 (JHCA _The Witches_ production file).\n\n **\"While I am not an advocate\"** Amy Ash Nixon, \"Witches Worry About Movie; Muppet Creator Working on Film,\" _Beverly Times_ (Beverly, Massachusetts), March 2, 1988. See also JH to Susan M. Baxter, February 11, 1988 (JHCA 8675).\n\n **\"NBC is worried\"** JH memo, February 3, 1988 (JHCA 20775).\n\n **\"I think they're the best television shows\"** Patricia Brennan, \"Jim Henson: From Muppets to Movies to Medieval Folk Tales,\" _Washington Post_ , October 25, 1987.\n\n **\"When the cable is hooked up\"** \"Jim Henson: The Future of Video and Cable,\" http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200byoutube.\u200bcom\/\u200bwatch?\u200bv=\u200bUoSutaKx0Ag&\u200bfeature=\u200brelated.\n\n **\"I love working on this show\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, March 16, 1988 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"In broad strokes\"** McCarthy, \"Muppets on His Mind.\"\n\n \" ** _The Disney Hour_** **consisted\"** JJ to Jocelyn Stevenson, Mira Velimirovic, and Larry Mirkin, March 18, 1988 (JHCA 20864).\n\n **\"I'm feeling quite good\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, March 16, 1988.\n\n **\"Isn't this a** **_romantic_** **view?\"** Mary Ann Cleary interview.\n\n **\"I think he was very much in love\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"I was really quite fond of her\"** Heather Henson interview.\n\n **\"I don't think he ever wanted to marry\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"it's great for my reputation!\"** Arthur Novell interview.\n\n **\"It was hard on him\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"bitchy,\" \"pooper scooper\"** JH to Mark Shivas, March 17, 1988 (JHCA _The Witches_ production file).\n\n **\"I do think it would be courteous\"** Roald Dahl to Duncan Kenworthy, April 18, 1988 (JHCA 9002).\n\n **\"A** WFUL,\" **\"S** TUPID AND USELESS,\" **\"PL[EASE] SHOW TO JIM H.\"** Roald Dahl to Duncan Kenworthy, April 28, 1988 (JHCA _The Witches_ production file).\n\n **\"Things have been a little bumpy\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, June 24, 1988 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"OBVIOUS. It is also TRITE\"** Roald Dahl to Nic Roeg, August 2, 1988 (JHCA 9002).\n\n **\"It is essential\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, June 24, 1988.\n\n **\"David, I don't know what I would do,\" \"He gave the kids undivided love\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"I just felt that he was an amazing dad\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"I think we are going to see\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, December 17, 1987 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"I tend to avoid confrontation\"** Matt Roush, \"Jim Henson, the Mogul of Family TV,\" _USA Today_ , December 15, 1987.\n\n **\"It was frustrating\"** Larry Mirkin interview.\n\n **\"it was** **_so_** **difficult\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"This is great\"** Larry Mirkin interview.\n\n **\"I always prefer,\" \"It seemed the logical thing\"** Haiuthman, \"The Muppet Man Joins His Cuddly Crew; Henson Variety Show Will Debut Tonight.\"\n\n **\"except [that it] was kind of wonderful\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"a work in progress\"** JH to Brandon Tartikoff, September 12, 1988 (JHCA 20851).\n\n **\"[It's] still so much fun to do\"** Transcript, conversation between Jim Henson and Joan Ganz Cooney, October 26, 1988 (JHCA interviews box).\n\n **\"Damon Runyon with dogs\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"I just love it\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, January 5, 1989 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"He was just having such a wonderful time\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"need[ed] work\"** JH RB, December 3, 1988.\n\n **\"looking good\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, January 5, 1989.\n\n **\"given the extra time,\" \"worked out quite nicely,\" \"It's so incredible\"** JH, AFI seminar, April 14, 1989.\n\n **\"Maybe if it was a** **_better_** **haircut\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"I think we are getting a handle\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, March 21, 1989 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"It hasn't been an easy film,\" \"a bit in the middle\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"They put us in a time slot\"** \"Dialogue on Film: Jim Henson: Miss Piggy Went to Market and $150 Million Came Home,\" _American Film_ , November 1989.\n\n **\"has to pick and choose\"** See Jim's introduction to _The Jim Henson Hour_ , April 14, 1989.\n\n **\"biggest problem\"** JH, AFI seminar, April 14, 1989.\n\n **\"Fixing what's wrong\"** Tom Shales, \"Henson's Happy Ending; Futuristic Muppets and the Storyteller Spell,\" _Washington Post_ , April 14, 1989.\n\n **\"different\"** Matt Roush, \"A Madcap Mix of Jim Henson's Muppetry,\" _USA Today_ , April 13, 1989.\n\n **\"a bright addition to prime time\"** Howard Rosenberg, \"TV Review: Muppets Maintain Huggability in Jim Henson Hour,\" _Los Angeles Times_ , April 14, 1989.\n\n **\"that was then\"** Amy Aldrich, \"The Muppets Take Disney World.\"\n\n **\"I'm sorry the Sunday experiment\"** Brandon Tartikoff to JH, undated note circa May 1989 (JHCA 14-0421).\n\n **\"hurt\"** Aldrich, \"The Muppets Take Disney World.\"\n\n **\"disappointed,\" \"I don't particularly like the way\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, Summer 1989 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"We were very ambitious\"** Larry Mirkin interview.\n\n **\"a kind of craziness\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n \" **He was in love with technology\"** Alex Rockwell interview.\n\n **\"one of those characters\"** JH, AFI seminar, April 14, 1989.\n\n **\"It was like the show didn't know\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"a chaotic hour\"** Alex Rockwell interview.\n\n **\"flying around\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"I know that this period of time\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, Summer 1989.\n\n **\"releases me from a lot of business problems\"** \"Dialogue on Film: Jim Henson: Miss Piggy Went to Market and $150 Million Came Home,\" _American Film_.\n\n## **C HAPTER FIFTEEN: SO MUCH ON A HANDSHAKE**\n\n **\"made in family entertainment heaven\"** \"Miss Piggy and Friends Join Mickey Mouse Club; Disney Buys Rights to Muppets,\" _Houston Chronicle_ , August 29, 1989.\n\n **\"The first film I saw,\" \"outside of my own films\"** JH, handwritten draft of Disney press release, 1989 (JHCA 10366).\n\n **\"but a seed was planted\"** Brillstein, 327.\n\n **\"very expensive,\" \"I have the best thing in the world for you,\" \"like a Mafia dinner,\" \"very soft,\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"The Muppets' world renown\"** Brillstein, 327.\n\n **\"disarmingly simple\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, June 24, 1988.\n\n **\"It was** **_never_** **just selling the Muppets\"** FO interview.\n\n **\"It's special because you get a guy like Jim\"** James Cox and Shelley Liles-Morris, \"Mickey Buys the Muppets; 'Creative Vitality' of Henson a Lure,\" _USA Today_ , August 29, 1989.\n\n **\"On a personal level\"** JH, handwritten draft of Disney press release.\n\n **\"It's not easy,\" \"When I went off to do** **_Labyrinth_** \" JH, AFI seminar, May 6, 1986.\n\n **\"was getting unwieldy\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"people would go to Jim directly\"** Brillstein, 328.\n\n **\"He was a very good businessman\"** Larry Mirkin interview.\n\n **\"the organizational albatross,\" \"He was an artist first and foremost\"** Brillstein, 328.\n\n **\"Looking way back down the road\"** JH, handwritten draft of Disney press release.\n\n **\"This was so much on a handshake\"** Kim Masters, \"Disney's Muppet Miasma: Corporate Style, Henson's Death Complicate a Deal in Waiting,\" _Washington Post_ , June 13, 1990.\n\n **\"[It was] just great\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"JHP 'deal team' \"** See \"Memo re: Disney Transaction, Charlie Rivkin to Distribution List (JH et al.),\" June 19, 1989 (JHCA 10574).\n\n **\"Jim had been adamant\"** Joan Ganz Cooney interview.\n\n **\"In none of the information\"** Charles Rivkin to Richard Nanula, June 13, 1989 (JHCA 9597).\n\n **\"holy place\"** Masters, \"Disney's Muppet Miasma: Corporate Style, Henson's Death Complicate a Deal in Waiting.\"\n\n **\"In general,\" \"and looking quite nice,\" \"The lip articulation\"** JH, HA Quarterly Report, circa summer 1989 (JHCA 15361).\n\n **\"enormous, heavy beasts,\" \"We're going to see\"** See \"Handmade Video\" HensonCompany YouTube channel, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200byoutube.\u200bcom\/\u200bwatch?\u200bfeature=\u200bplayer_\u200bembedded&v=\u200bo51br\u200bOuAbcI.\n\n **\"Where are we going with this?\"** Mary Ann Cleary interview.\n\n **\"For whatever we become\"** Mary Ann Cleary, email to the author, April 17, 2012.\n\n **\"I know that this past period of time\"** JH, memo to staff, July 26, 1989 (JHCA 15365).\n\n **\"Disney Said to Be Wooing Henson\"** _Star Tribune_ [Minneapolis, Minnesota], August 17, 1989.\n\n **\"Disney May Be Courting Miss Piggy's Company\"** _Houston Chronicle_ , August 20, 1989.\n\n **\"Jim Henson's wish\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"I think hooking up\" \"Mickey Mouse has a new sibling\"** Adam Yeomans and Vicki Vaughan, \"Muppet Merger: Jim Henson Has Hand in Bringing Characters to Walt Disney,\" _Orlando Sentinel_ , August 29, 1989; \"Acquisitions, Mergers and Muppets Series,\" Editorial, _Tampa Bay Times_ , August 30, 1989.\n\n **\"I feel I have reached a certain level\"** JH, handwritten draft of Disney press release.\n\n **\"a creative designated hitter\"** Patrick Lee, \"Disney Invites Kermit, Friends to Join Mickey,\" _Los Angeles Times_ , August 29, 1989.\n\n **\"There are only a few characters,\" \"And they're all evergreen\"** Richard Stevenson, \"Muppets Join Disney Menagerie,\" _New York Times_ , August 29, 1989; Richard Turner, \"Kermit the Frog Jumps to Walt Disney as Company Buys Henson Associates,\" _Wall Street Journal_ , August 29, 1989.\n\n **\"Just thought I'd let you know\"** Anne Kinney to CTW, September 8, 1989 (JHCA 8803).\n\n **\"He will no longer have to be raising money\"** Cox and Liles-Morris, \"Mickey Buys the Muppets; 'Creative Vitality' of Henson a Lure.\"\n\n **\"He** **_never_** **spent two weeks a year\"** Joan Ganz Cooney interview.\n\n **\"We could not ask\"** Cox and Liles-Morris, \"Mickey Buys the Muppets; 'Creative Vitality' of Henson a Lure.\"\n\n **\"for life\"** Yeomans and Vaughan, \"Muppet Merger: Jim Henson Has Hand in Bringing Characters to Walt Disney.\"\n\n **\"[give] Jim the maximum operating flexibility\"** \"Memo re: Disney Transaction, Charlie Rivkin to Distribution List (JH et al.),\" June 19, 1989.\n\n **\"A lot of times\"** JH, AFI seminar, April 14, 1989.\n\n **Katzenberg had promised** Lee, \"Disney Invites Kermit, Friends to Join Mickey.\" 445 **\"Much like Disney\"** JH to Michael Eisner, June 6, 1989 (JHCA 9597).\n\n **\"treat our characters\"** \"Memo re: Disney Transaction, Charlie Rivkin to Distribution List (JH et al.),\" June 19, 1989.\n\n **\"That was Jim's mandate\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"Kermit should be treated\"** \"Memo re: Disney Transaction, Charlie Rivkin to Distribution List (JH et al.),\" June 19, 1989.\n\n **\"a lot of money,\" \"It's a strategic acquisition\"** Stevenson, \"Muppets Join Disney Menagerie.\"\n\n **\"Jim is ambitious in expressing himself\"** Aldrich, \"The Muppets Take Disney World.\"\n\n **\"It's not just me doing this stuff\"** _Being Green_ , 77.\n\n **\"[It's] the people\"** JH to Eisner, June 6, 1989.\n\n **\"He really wanted to do right by everybody\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"After twenty-five years\"** JJ to JH, January 21, 1986 (JHCA 11027).\n\n **\"[Jim] really wanted this deal\"** Mary Ann Cleary, email to the author, June 5, 2012.\n\n **\"He tried to be very benevolent\"** Dave Goelz interview.\n\n **\"Disney does it so well,\" \"The idea of working our characters\"** JH, handwritten draft of Disney press release.\n\n **\"If you've seen a process that works\"** JH to Robert A. Brennan, November 25, 1986 (JHCA 14067).\n\n **\"He was** **_very_** **excited,\" \"Oh, they had so much fun\"** Alex Rockwell interview. 449 **Jim's favorite attractions** Heather Henson interview.\n\n **\"It'll be a backstage ride\"** See Dateline: WDW video promo for Disney-MGM Studios, 1990, http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200byoutube.\u200bcom\/\u200bwatch?v=\u200b7GiDIP\u200bEnSsg.\n\n **\"at the end of the day\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"creative vitality\"** Cox and Liles-Morris, \"Mickey Buys the Muppets; 'Creative Vitality' of Henson a Lure.\"\n\n **\"Jim's] natural curiosity\"** Mark Eades, interviewed by Wade Sampson, \"The Muppet*Vision 3D Story,\" Mouse Planet website, May 19, 2010, [http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200bmouseplanet.\u200bcom\/\u200b9256\/\u200bThe_\u200bMuppetVision_\u200b3D_\u200bStory.\n\n **\"The trips were often whirlwinds\"** Mary Ann Cleary, email to the author, May 18, 2012.\n\n **\"was frustrated\"** Masters, \"Disney's Muppet Miasma: Corporate Style, Henson's Death Complicate a Deal in Waiting.\"\n\n **\"communicat[ing] to both\"** JH to DL and Bob Bromberg, October 19, 1989 (JHCA Disney folder).\n\n **\"It was a tough process\"** Peter Schube interview.\n\n **\"but I think his idealism\"** Steve Whitmire interview.\n\n **\"He loved the fact\"** Peter Schube interview.\n\n **\"When do you need it?\"** Michael Frith interview.\n\n **\"It was like he was Santa\"** Mary Ann Cleary, email to the author, June 5, 2012.\n\n **\"It was a little bit heartbreaking\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"My dad liked** **_everything_** \" Heather Henson interview.\n\n **\"I gave him a bottle of white zinfandel\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"He was more relaxed\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"I don't think they understood\"** Masters, \"Disney's Muppet Miasma: Corporate Style, Henson's Death Complicate a Deal in Waiting.\"\n\n **Roy Disney found him rude** Stewart, 123.\n\n **\"the most brutal, the stingiest, most compulsive\"** Julie Salamon, \"Jeffrey Katzenberg: Disney's New Mogul,\" _Wall Street Journal_ , May 12, 1987.\n\n **\"that's not the way Jim operated\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **\"a non-starter\"** Masters, \"Disney's Muppet Miasma: Corporate Style, Henson's Death Complicate a Deal in Waiting.\"\n\n **\"There you go again\"** Joan Ganz Cooney interview.\n\n **\"I felt like the writing\"** Mary Ann Cleary, email to the author, May 18, 2012.\n\n **\"they were always very civil\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"Jim really didn't want to work with somebody\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"appalled,\" \"Jim... does not seem\"** Roald Dahl to Duncan Kenworthy, February 2, 1990 (JHCA 9002).\n\n **\"saddened\"** Duncan Kenworthy to Roald Dahl, February 9, 1990 (JHCA 9002).\n\n **\"I'm sorry that we didn't stay in closer touch\"** JH to Roald Dahl, February 15, 1990 (JHCA 9002).\n\n **\"Everyone who knows the Disney Company,\" \"We've had a great, great time\"** Brillstein, 329.\n\n **\"Jim didn't say\"** Masters, \"Disney's Muppet Miasma: Corporate Style, Henson's Death Complicate a Deal in Waiting.\"\n\n **\"one home per child\"** Arthur Novell interview.\n\n **\"It just made him so happy\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"just a few minutes in meditation\"** _Being Green_ , 44.\n\n **\"I thought he was more relaxed and happier\"** JJ, archival interview.\n\n **\"Jim was never happier in his life\"** DL, archival interview.\n\n **the big question** Bob Bromberg to JH et al., May 3, 1990 (JHCA 9597).\n\n **\"Disney focused on** **_everything_** \" Masters, \"Disney's Muppet Miasma: Corporate Style, Henson's Death Complicate a Deal in Waiting.\"\n\n **\"[Henson Associates] was extremely solid\"** Peter Schube interview.\n\n **\"Disney is a corporate entity\"** Masters, \"Disney's Muppet Miasma: Corporate Style, Henson's Death Complicate a Deal in Waiting.\"\n\n **\"that drew the process out\"** Peter Schube interview.\n\n **\"Of all the people in the world\"** Larry Mirkin interview.\n\n **\"That goddamned deal!\" \"I'll never forget my surprise\"** Michael Frith, email to the author, March 17, 2013.\n\n **\"things just didn't work out\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"Don't worry\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n## **C HAPTER SIXTEEN: JUST ONE PERSON**\n\n **\"He was ready\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"He insisted it would go away\"** Schindehette, \"Legacy of a Gentle Genius.\" 463 **\"it wasn't anything extreme\" \"It was funny\"** Kevin Clash interview.\n\n **\"No, leave it\"** Arthur Novell interview.\n\n **\"I think it's not particularly necessary\"** JH, \"The Courage of My Convictions.\"\n\n **\"Jim was very stubborn about sickness\"** Alex Rockwell interview.\n\n **\"He was always quite robust and healthy\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"He just wasn't an unhealthy guy\"** Steve Whitmire interview.\n\n **\"I get the flu\"** JH RB, February 21\u201326, 1985.\n\n **\"Went to Washington\"** JH RB, January 1, 1968.\n\n **\"Typical Jim\"** Arthur Novell interview.\n\n **He was feeling better** See Jim's medical records, May 14\u201316, 1990 (Henson Family Properties).\n\n **\"I love you,\" \"I don't give a shit what happens\"** BB, archival interview. See also Brillstein, 329.\n\n **\"It seemed like a cold or flu\"** CH, email to the author, April 23, 2012.\n\n **\"We just laughed\"** \"Family Denies Reports That Henson Was Examined by Doctor in North Carolina,\" _Sun_ (Baltimore), May 18, 1990.\n\n **\"looked kind of bad\"** Ibid.\n\n **\"He was really tired,\" \"Hi, ho, Kermit the Frog here!\"** CH interview.\n\n **As Jim climbed out of the car** From this point, unless otherwise noted, the story of Jim's final days has been pieced together using Jim's medical records and interviews with the following individuals (in alphabetical order): Kevin Clash, Michael Frith, Dave Goelz, Brian Henson, Cheryl Henson, Heather Henson, Jane Henson, John Henson, Lisa Henson, Anne Kinney, Jerry Nelson, Arthur Novell, Frank Oz, Alex Rockwell, and Steve Whitmire, as well as archival interviews with David Lazer and Bernie Brillstein.\n\n **\"feel[ing] lousy\"** Jim's medical records indicate that he described his condition this way.\n\n **\"No one could remember Jim ever calling in sick\"** Dave Goelz, interviewed by Kenneth Plume, January 28, 2000.\n\n **\"He said he'd had a very rough night,\"** **\" _Everyone_** **was coming in,\" \"We just talked\"** Schindehette, \"Legacy of a Gentle Genius.\"\n\n **\"He and Mom were always just really fond\"** CH, email to the author, April 23, 2012.\n\n **\"I'm here at New York Hospital\"** Brillstein, 335\u201336.\n\n **\"I couldn't believe it\"** Dave Goelz, interviewed by Kenneth Plume.\n\n **\"hard to even hear it\"** \"Ratting Out,\" July 19, 1999.\n\n **official cause of death** See Jim's autopsy report (Henson Family Properties). 472\u201373 **\"overwhelming infection,\" \"There had already been extensive damage done\"** Dennis O'Brien, \"Henson's Pneumonia Was Swift, Lethal,\" _Sun_ (Baltimore), May 18, 1990.\n\n **\"He was really devastated\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"A custodian answered\"** Dave Goelz, interviewed by Kenneth Plume.\n\n **\"My heart stopped\"** Fran Brill interview.\n\n **\"I remember growing up\"** Kevin Clash interview.\n\n **\"Everybody was walking wounded,\" \"We were thrown into having to deal\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"Today I am sitting here\"** JH, open letter to \"Children and Friends,\" March 2, 1986 (Henson Family Properties).\n\n **\"a traumatic period\"** Masters, \"Disney's Muppet Miasma: Corporate Style, Henson's Death Complicate a Deal in Waiting.\"\n\n **\"All these people were coming\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"was a wonderful microcosm\"** Masters, \"Disney's Muppet Miasma: Corporate Style, Henson's Death Complicate a Deal in Waiting.\"\n\n **\"just let it happen like a show,\" \"Is this going to be all right in your church?\"** Jane Henson interview.\n\n **\"[Eisner] was crushed\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"That was just amazing\"** Kevin Clash interview.\n\n **\"I remember admiring Louise Gold\"** Fran Brill interview.\n\n **\"I remember coming close to breaking\"** Jerry Nelson interview.\n\n **\"a sight I'll never forget\"** Chris Barry, \"Saying 'Goodbye' to Jim,\" Jim Hill Media, September 7, 2005, http:\/\/\u200bjimhillmedia.\u200bcom\/\u200bguest_\u200bwriters1\/\u200bb\/\u200bchris_\u200bbarry\/\u200barchive\/\u200b2005\/\u200b09\/\u200b08\/\u200b1722.\u200baspx#.\n\n **\"Jim taught us many things\"** \"Henson Memorial: Thousands Celebrate Muppet Creator's Life in Upbeat, Happy Way He Requested,\" _Newsday_ , May 22, 1990.\n\n **\"the generosity of Jim's] time\"** See video of Oz's eulogy at [http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200byoutube.\u200bcom\/\u200bwatch?v=\u200bzguccnOjnOI.\n\n **\"Somehow\"** Spinney, 138.\n\n **\"Thank you, Kermit\"** Spinney's remarkable performance can be viewed at: http:\/\/\u200bwww.\u200byoutube.\u200bcom\/\u200bwatch?v=\u200blrZyMptC2eQ.\n\n **\"Jim told me\"** Brillstein, 338\u201339.\n\n **\"I know I couldn't sing\"** Fran Brill interview.\n\n **\"we all marched out of the cathedral smiling\"** Spinney, 138.\n\n **\"an epic and almost unbearably moving event\"** Harrigan, \"It's Not Easy Being Blue.\"\n\n **\"When Jim left the planet\"** _Being Green_ , 168\u201369.\n\n **\"Creator, Producer\"** See Jim's death certificate.\n\n **\"See those hills over there?\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"I try to tune myself in\"** JH, \"The Courage of My Convictions.\"\n\n **\"we hiked up onto somebody's personal property\"** LH interview.\n\n **\"This is it\"** John Henson interview.\n\n **\"First of all\"** JH to Lisa, Cheryl, Brian, John, and Heather Henson, March 2, 1986 (Henson Family Properties).\n\n## **E PILOGUE: LEGACY**\n\n **\"gonna make this deal go through\"** BB, archival interview.\n\n **\"death and taxes,\" \"It finally became a situation\"** Peter Schube interview.\n\n **\"Believe me\"** Brillstein, 333.\n\n **\"harder and harder\"** Dan Ackman, \"The Muppets Come Home,\" _Wall Street Journal_ , May 13, 2003.\n\n **\"natural home\"** Alice Daniel, \"The Muppet Family Business,\" _Success_ , 2011.\n\n **\"We are honored\"** Peter Grant and Bruce Orwell, \"Leading the News: Disney Buys Henson Muppets; Comcast Continues Its Pursuit,\" _Wall Street Journal_ , February 18, 2004.\n\n **\"Jim inspired people\"** Brillstein, 338\u201339.\n\n **\"In this industry\"** Anthony Minghella, archival interview.\n\n **\"I see Jim's life\"** _Being Green_ , 33.\n\n **\"Jim had a sense of humor\"** Ibid., 38.\n\n **\"he could integrate play\"** Ibid., 130.\n\n **\"Even today, many, many years later\"** Fran Brill interview.\n\n **\"He was a creatively restless individual\"** Daniel, \"The Muppet Family Business.\"\n\n **\"That's probably what he taught me\"** BH interview.\n\n **\"Jim didn't think in terms of boundaries\"** _Being Green_ , 151.\n\n **\"I often tell people\"** Bonnie Erickson interview.\n\n **\"so overpowering\"** Anthony Minghella, archival interview.\n\n **\"an extraordinary appreciator\"** FO, remarks at the Jim Henson London Memorial, 1990 _(Being Green_ , 138).\n\n **\"Underneath the zaniness\"** _Being Green_ , 148.\n\n **\"He often started\"** Alex Rockwell interview.\n\n **\"I know that it's easier\"** _Being Green_ , 161.\n\n **\"He wasn't a saint\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"That's how I think of my dad\"** CH interview.\n\n **\"We all have jobs\"** Richard Hunt, archival interview.\n\n **\"When I was young\"** JH, \"The Courage of My Convictions.\"\n\n# **SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY**\n\n#\n\nBacon, Matt. _No Strings Attached: The Inside Story of Jim Henson's Creature Shop_. New York: Macmillan, 1997.\n\nBailey, Joseph A. _Memoirs of a Muppets Writer (You Mean Somebody Actually Writes That Stuff?)_. New York: Walnut, 2011.\n\nBatchelder, Marjorie. _The Puppet Theatre Handbook_. New York: Harper & Row, 1947.\n\nBorgenicht, David. _Sesame Street Unpaved_. New York: Hyperion, 2008.\n\nBrillstein, Bernie, with David Rensin. _Where Did I Go Right? You're No One in Hollywood Unless Someone Wants You Dead_. Beverly Hills: Phoenix, 1999.\n\nChester, Lewis. _All My Shows Are Great: The Life of Lew Grade_. London: Aurum, 2010.\n\nDamron, Andra, and the Hyattsville Preservation Society. _Hyattsville_. Mount Pleasant, SC: Arcadia, 2008.\n\nDavis, Michael. _Street Gang: The Complete History of Sesame Street_. New York: Viking, 2008.\n\nDean, Jimmy, and Donna Meade Dean. _Thirty Years of Sausage, Fifty Years of Ham: Jimmy Dean's Own Story_. New York: Berkley, 2006.\n\nDurrett, Deanne. _Inventors and Creators: Jim Henson_. San Diego: Kidhaven, 2002.\n\nEide, Paul, Alan Cook, and Steve Abrams, eds. _A Timeline of Puppetry in America_. Minneapolis: Puppeteers of America, 2003.\n\nEisner, Michael. _Work in Progress_. New York: Hyperion, 1999.\n\nFalk, Karen. _Imagination Illustrated: The Jim Henson Journal_. San Francisco: Chronicle, 2012.\n\nFinch, Christopher. _Jim Henson: The Works, the Art, the Magic, the Imagination_. New York: Random House, 1993.\n\n\u2014\u2014\u2014. _The Making of The Dark Crystal: Creating a Unique Film_. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1983.\n\n\u2014\u2014\u2014. _Of Muppets and Men: The Making of The Muppet Show_. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1981.\n\nFischer, Stuart. _Kids' TV: The First 25 Years_. New York: Facts on File Publications, 1983.\n\nFroud, Brian. _The Goblins of Labyrinth_. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2006.\n\n\u2014\u2014\u2014. _The World of The Dark Crystal_. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1982.\n\nGikow, Louise. _Sesame Street: A Celebration of 40 Years of Life on the Street_. New York: Black Dog & Leventhal, 2009.\n\nGourse, Leslie. _Jim Henson: Young Puppeteer_. New York: Aladdin, 2000.\n\nHenson Associates. _The Art of the Muppets_. New York: Bantam, 1980.\n\nHenson, Jim, and the Muppets and Friends. _It's Not Easy Being Green (And Other Things to Consider)_. Edited by Cheryl Henson. New York: Hyperion, 2005.\n\nHill, Doug, and Jeff Weingrad. _Saturday Night: A Backstage History of Saturday Night Live_. New York: William Morrow, 1989.\n\nHollis, T. M. _Hi There, Boys and Girls! America's Local Children's Television Programs_. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2001.\n\nHolub, Joan. _Who Was Jim Henson?_ New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 2010.\n\nInches, Alison. _Jim Henson's Designs and Doodles: A Muppet Sketchbook_. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2001.\n\nLewis, Jim. _Jim Henson's Doodle Dreams_. Des Moines: Meredith, 2008.\n\nMasters, Kim. _The Keys to the Kingdom: How Michael Eisner Lost His Grip_. New York: William Morrow, 2000.\n\nObraztsov, Sergei. _My Profession_. Translated by Ralph Parker and Valentina Scott. Moscow: Foreign Languages Publishing House, circa 1950.\n\nRinzler, J. W. _The Making of The Empire Strikes Back_. New York: Ballantine, 2010.\n\nSettel, Irving. _A Pictorial History of Television_. New York: Frederick Ungar, 1983.\n\nShales, Tom, and James Andrew Miller. _Live from New York: An Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live_. New York: Little, Brown, 2002.\n\nSpinney, Caroll. _The Wisdom of Big Bird (and the Dark Genius of Oscar the Grouch): Lessons from a Life in Feathers_. New York: Villard, 2003.\n\nSt. Pierre, Stephanie. _The Story of Jim Henson, Creator of the Muppets_. New York: Dell, 1991.\n\nStewart, James B. _Disneywar_. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2005.\n\n# PHOTOGRAPH CREDITS\n\n#\n\n**Title page:** \u00a9 Bill Pierce. Kermit the Frog \u00a9 Disney.\n\n**prl.1:** Bernard Gotfryd\/Premium Archive\/Getty Images. Kermit the Frog \u00a9 Disney.\n\n**1.1:** Courtesy of Henson Family Properties.\n\n**2.1:** Courtesy of Henson Family Properties. Muppets \u00a9 Disney.\n\n**3.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company. Muppets \u00a9 Disney. Photo: Del Ankers.\n\n**4.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company. Muppets \u00a9 Disney. Photo: Del Ankers.\n\n**5.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company. Muppets \u00a9 Disney. Photo: Del Ankers.\n\n**6.1:** Courtesy of Sesame Workshop.\n\n**7.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company. Muppets \u00a9 Disney.\n\n**8.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company.\n\n**9.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company. Muppets \u00a9 Disney.\n\n**10.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company. Muppets \u00a9 Disney.\n\n**11.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company. Photo: Murray Close.\n\n**12.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company.\n\n**13.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company.\n\n**14.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company. Kermit the Frog \u00a9 Disney.\n\n**15.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company.\n\n**16.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company. Photo: Lynn Goldsmith.\n\n**epl.1:** Courtesy of The Jim Henson Company. Photo: Kerry Hayes.\n\n# BY BRIAN JAY JONES\n\n_Washington Irving: An American Original_\n\n_Jim Henson: The Biography_\n\nPHOTO: STEPHANIE HITCHCOCK\n\nBRIAN JAY JONES is an award-winning biographer and vice president of Biographers International Organization. Jones is a devoted member of the Jim Henson generation, having been two years old when _Sesame Street_ premiered in 1969 and nine when _The Muppet Show_ debuted in 1976. A former policy analyst and advisor in the U.S. Senate, Jones abandoned politics for the pen in 2008, with the publication of his award-winning biography, _Washington Irving_. He lives with his wife and daughter in Damascus, Maryland. His favorite Muppet is Rowlf (thanks for asking).\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":"\n# Nobody Likes a Quitter\n\n(and other reasons to avoid rehab)\n\nThe Loaded Life of an Outlaw Booze Writer\n\n# **DAN DUNN**\n\nThunder's Mouth Press\n\nNew York\nNOBODY LIKES A QUITTER (AND OTHER REASONS TO AVOID REHAB):\n\n_The Loaded Life of an Outlaw Booze Writer_\n\nThunder's Mouth Press\n\nAn imprint of Avalon Publishing Group Inc.\n\n245 West 17th Street, 11th Floor\n\nNew York, NY 10011\n\nCopyright \u00a9 2007 by Dan Dunn\n\nAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review in a newspaper, magazine, or electronic publication; nor may any part of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other, without written permission from the publisher.\n\nLibrary of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data\n\nDunn, Dan, 1968- Nobody likes a quitter (and other reasons to avoid rehab): the loaded life of an outlaw booze writer \/ Dan Dunn.\n\np. cm.\n\nIncludes bibliographical references and index.\n\nISBN 978-1-56858-366-2 (alk. paper)\n\nE-Book ISBN 978-1-61750-424-2\n\n1. Alcoholism--United States. 2. Drinking of alcoholic beverages--Social aspects--United States. i. Title.\n\nHV5292.D86 2007\n\n362.292092\\--DC22\n\n2007012967\n\n9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1\n\nInterior Design by Bettina Wilhelm\n\nPrinted in the United States of America\n\nDistributed by Publishers Group West\n\n_This book is dedicated to Donna, Curtis, and Finnegan Robinson_\n\n_... and to the Clash, for \"Junco Partner\"_\n**What they're saying about Dan Dunn and his \"book\"...**\n\n\"Welcome to the weird and wacky world of Dan Dunn. He now lays claim to being one of the funniest and most cunning rascals in the dirty trenches of journalism. This is the first of many wonderful books to come.\"\n\n\u2014Douglas Brinkley, author of _The Great Deluge_\n\n\"Dan Dunn is a fanatical party monster who is a danger to himself and anyone who crosses his path. The funny thing is\u2014and I do mean funny\u2014he's lived to write about it. If I don't get to direct the movie version of _Nobody Likes a Quitter,_ I'm firing my agent.\n\n\u2014Danny Leiner, director of _Dude, Where's My Car?_ and _Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle_\n\n\"Dan Dunn's writing has always been droll and dripping with inebriated humor from his well-lubricated editorials in the Aspen, Colorado, daily papers to his sloshed blogs on the Internet. I first met him passed out on the floor, at the feet of my former neighbor, the late Hunter S. Thompson, and have been waiting for him to sober up enough to finish this damn book ever since!\"\n\n\u2014John Oates of the rock duo Hall & Oates\n\n\"Every time I read the literary genius that IS Dan Dunn, I'm floored. But then, I pick myself up off the floor, crawl back up on my barstool, and crack open another box of wine. He makes me feel so smart.\"\n\n\u2014Mark Steines, host of _Entertainment Tonight_\n\n\"As a health and nutrition writer, I have failed at many attempts to explain how Dan Dunn is still alive. Imbiber is too kind of a description for Dan. The man has drunk from a fire hose and has distilled ambrosia from this so that we ourselves might civilly imbibe. To steal a phrase from Fleetwood Mac, Dan Dunn makes lovin' fun.\"\n\n\u2014Christopher Wanjek, author of _Food at Work_ and _Bad Medicine_\n\n\"Dan is both knowledgeable and self deprecating. His stories about the things that alcohol makes one do are so wickedly raw and funny it may have you reconsider drinking alcohol altogether.\"\n\n\u2014Dominique Paul, author of _The Possibility of Fireflies_\n\"Alcohol is the anesthesia by which we endure the operation of life.\"\n\n\u2014George Bernard Shaw\n\n# Contents\n\nAuthor's Note\n\n[**\u2013Step 1\u2013**  \nInto the Spirit of Things: How a Quasi-Degenerate  \nBooze Writer Is Born](chap01.html)\n\n[**\u2013Step 2\u2013**  \nWhen They Say, \"You'll Need Shots\" to Go to Some Countries,  \nThey Don't Mean the Kind at the Airport Bar](chap02.html)\n\n[**\u2013Step 3\u2013**  \nWhisky: Proudly Destroying Livers Since 1088](chap03.html)\n\n[**\u2013Step 4\u2013**  \nThe Tequila Sunrise Also Rises  \n(Provided You Drink Too Many)](chap04.html)\n\n[**\u2013Step 5\u2013**  \nGetting Boozy... and the Beast](chap05.html)\n\n[**\u2013Step 6\u2013**  \nYou Know What They Say About Guys with Small Chapters...](chap06.html)\n\n[\u2013 **Step 7\u2013**  \nA Woman of Some Importance](chap07.html)\n\n[**\u2013Step 8\u2013**  \nChick Drinks and the Men Who Drink Them](chap08.html)\n\n[**\u2013Step 9\u2013**  \nBrushes with Celebrities, Comb-Overs with Nobodies](chap09.html)\n\n[**\u2013Step 10\u2013**  \nWhat Would Jesus Drink? A Holiday Hootch Guide](chap10.html)\n\n[**\u2013Step 11\u2013**  \nI'm Only Hanging On to Watch You Go Down](chap11.html)\n\n[**\u2013Step 12\u2013**  \nCongratulations, You've Completed the Program and  \nAre Now Eligible to Begin a Far Less Glamorous One](chap12.html)\n\nEpilogue\n\nAcknowledgments\n\nAbout the Author\n\n# Author's Note\n\nIn political circles, they say if you are the one explaining then you are the one losing. So I guess this is a concession speech of sorts\u2014because Thunder's Mouth Press and I want you to know something going in: a few of the events recounted in these pages are what overzealous litterateurs and the Smoking Gun Web site might call \"not historically accurate\" or \"subject to debate\" or \"remembered clearly, but may have been a dream.\" Hell, looking back, portions of this tome leave me sounding like one of the less lawyered-up members of the Bush administration. I guess some of the material has been either significantly embellished or wholly invented, and many of the characters herein are what the Washington Post would no doubt call \"composites.\" What you're holding in your hands, dear reader, is a mosh pit of fact and fiction, with yours truly doing a bit of body surfing. But let me also add that to the best of my knowledge, everything I've written pertaining to the history, production, promotion, and enjoyment of alcohol is on the level. Drinking is the part of my life where Truth reigns supreme. Unfortunately, there are parts of my life where drinking reigns supreme and parts of my Truth where life and drinking become one, a huge seven-headed beast and... wait, I'm sounding like the Bush administration again. Let me be blunt: I am, after all, in the employ of a large and reputable media conglomerate as one of the world's preeminent wine and spirits writers. As I lead you down the path to enlightenment about adult beverages, however, I am desperate that you somehow grasp just how brain-rattlingly inebriated I've kept myself throughout most of the past decade. I drink for a living, folks, and as a result my memory is foggier than a San Francisco morning after a Grateful Dead show; one of the early shows before the cops caught on. Plus, having grown up in a highly dysfunctional environment, as a coping mechanism I developed a vivid imagination that I now have a hell of a time keeping in check. For instance, I'm not entirely sure that I have, as reported in Step 9, partied with Chaka Khan. Then again, I'm not sure I _haven't._ The truth depends largely on the tenacity of her legal representation. Same goes for David Faustino and Polly Holliday. In fact, the same goes for anyone in this book, including those in the acknowledgments. _Especially_ those people, because I always fear I'll end up drunk and homeless babbling to imaginary friends\u2014oh, the people will actually exist, I'll just imagine they're my friends.\n\nSo perhaps it's best that you look upon the time spent reading this book as you would a visit to Mr. Rogers's Neighborhood\u2014sometimes we'll be kicking it _real_ in my house, only instead of sneakers and cardigan sweaters my closet will be full of liquor and skeletons. And whenever we need to spice things up a bit, we can always head to the Land of Make Believe... there's even a trolley to take us to and fro so we don't have to worry about getting another DUI.\n\nSo, let's make the most of this beautiful day. Since we're together, we might as well say: Would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won't you be my reader?\n\nCheers!\n\nDan Dunn\n\nLos Angeles\n\nApril 9, 2007\n\n# Step 1\n\n# Into the Spirit of Things: How a Quasi-Degenerate Booze Writer Is Born\n\nFour in the morning. A VIP table inside an exceedingly stylish nightclub at the Wynn Hotel in Las Vegas. A ravishing young woman is on my lap, chatting up several other gorgeous ladies and occasionally leaning in to nibble on my ear. LapGal is a publicist for an exceedingly stylish high-demographic vodka that is usually marked up to around six or seven hundred dollars a bottle at places like this. We have three bottles on the table; two of them appear empty, though it's hard to know through the smoked glass. Our ample-bosomed, emerald-eyed hostess sashays over to the table and offers to top off my cocktail. I've had more than enough to drink over the past fourteen-odd hours, but I hold out my glass anyway. Common sense dictates that I should stop this, go back to my room, and sleep, but my incorrigible id propels me to keep going. A hedonistic mantra echoes in my head... _Nobody likes a quitter. Nobody likes a quitter. Nobody likes a quitter._\n\n\"Are you having fun?\" the hostess asks.\n\n\"Yes,\" I lie. \"Lots of fun.\" Truth is, I feel kind of bored and a little nauseated and my vision has gone from merely blurry to that slight pre-room-spin phase. Just a few of many occupational hazards I'm routinely forced to contend with. Another one is the dreaded deadline, which in this case happens to be about, oh, five hours from now. You see, I'm what's known in the journalism biz as a \"wine and spirits writer,\" and my employer is the world's largest newspaper company. While my friends always roll their eyes at the very idea of this drinking-and-scribbling as \"work,\" I'm on the clock. My penchant for quoting Hunter S. Thompson\u2014he noted that writing is like sex, mostly fun for amateurs\u2014doesn't often help.\n\nThen the hostess coos, \"If you need anything\u2014anything at all\u2014just let me know,\" and suddenly, I feel a whole lot better.\n\n\"Oh, I will, darlin',\" I reply, sliding her my phone number with a wink; she flashes a kittenish grin, and I immediately find myself lamenting having given LapGal a key to my complimentary suite. Then again, she's very sweet and has a large expense account at her disposal and, hell, maybe _she_ digs the hostess, too. Perhaps nobody need be left out in the proverbial cold tonight. As LapGal settles what is surely an exceedingly stylish tab with her company credit card, I can't help but fantasize about how much fun the three of us could have together. We could all climb into the stretch limousine the hotel has generously provided and head over to a strip club to have lap dances and champagne and smoke expensive cigarettes. I'm not sure how LapGal would covertly slip that portion of the evening onto her credit card but maybe I could pick up some of the expense. I run that through my head, seeing the smoke billowing out of some newspaper accountant's ears, knowing it's a culture that has conference calls on cutting the paper-clip tab. But like that Booger guy in _Risky Business_ put it, \"Every now and then say, What the fuck\"... so, What the fuck! \"Stripper\" sounds a lot like \"paper\" anyway\u2014I'll list it under \"office supplies.\" On second thought, perhaps it's best to skip the gentlemen's club altogether and take the girls straight to the hot tub in the suite. Have the bellman bring up a bottle of Mr. Bubble, scented candles, and some stuffed olives. After all, I _am_ a working writer on assignment, and the higher-minded types in the paper's editorial department might deem my taking a publicist to a titty bar to be some sort of breach of journalistic ethics. It's unfortunate, but there are still a lot of fucking prudes in this business.\n\n\"What did you just say?!!\" LapGal hisses. The hostess is taken aback as well. Seems I'd inadvertently fantasized aloud. Been trying to cut back on that.\n\n\"I'm not sure,\" I say, \"but do you find whatever it was appealing?\"\n\nFive fifteen in the morning. I'm alone in my suite. I've got four hours to file a column, which leaves about two hours for a power nap, a trip downstairs for a little gambling, in-room porn, or some good old-fashioned drunken dialing. But, as is often the case in these situations, I pass out while trying to decide. I haven't set the alarm or put in for a wake-up call but I don't need to. There's a job to be done, and no matter how impaired I might get doing research, my internal clock never fails. This is essential to success in my line of work, as is easy access to a toilet and an endless supply of Tylenol. I will wake up in time to compose an essay extolling the virtues of the high-end vodka brand that brought me here to Vegas, and the publicist will forgive me my earlier indiscretion because it's the column she really wants, not me. They all want the column because the column is the pipeline to you, the consumer. I'm merely the conduit. We live in a world where it's unethical to actually pay cash for media coverage; instead they take some guy like me to some place like this and pay the freight. Never mind that this weekend will cost more than I make in a month\u2014that is what is called an \"uptown problem.\" Any enjoyment any of us extract from this little publicity dance is purely ancillary.\n\nBut as usual I'm getting ahead of myself. Before I get to the \"tell all\" about my rather unusual profession, and the rather usual manner in which I practice it, you ought to know how I ended up here in the first place. And that story begins, quite literally, with an accident.\n\nYou never forget the first time you learned that the phrase \"piss drunk\" is not just a colorful figure of speech. For me it came in January 1994, in a small one-bedroom unit on the outskirts of Aspen, Colorado, a town unlike any I'd known before. I'd gone there intending to visit a college friend for a few days on my way to \"finding myself\" in California, but for a variety of reasons best left to my eventual biographer, I decided to stay a while. In the beginning there were four guys living together in extremely tight quarters. Rent: three hundred dollars each for the two fellas sharing the bedroom, two hundred apiece for the \"living room boys\"\u2014Joe and me.\n\nIt happened after yet another long day of Phase II drinking\u2014Phase I is where you can still count the number of drinks you've had; Phase II is where you just count the _hours_ you've been drinking, figuring your burn rate is about six or seven drinks an hour\u2014it's not unlike the drug guys in movies who weigh the money instead of counting it. And it had been a ski season filled with too many Phase IIs. That time, it was J\u00e4germeister and cheap beer slam-dancing in my cranial mosh pit, and I had to go something awful. Unable to move, I opened the floodgates right there on the living room floor, relief mixing with animal shame. Bad enough in any case, but worse then because the living room floor doubled as my bed every other night. On the \"other\" other night, Joe took the floor. As soon as he found out I'd soiled the carpet, however, Joe rightfully laid full-time claim to the sofa and from then on, the floor was all mine.\n\nIn a testament to the fact that Aspen landlords rarely actually visit their property, we didn't get evicted for nearly four months\u2014on Easter Sunday, no less\u2014so I had plenty of time to become quite familiar with my own waste. The last thing I thought of every night before I passed out was urine, and it wasn't the scent of fresh-brewed coffee that roused me each morning. When I finally peeled myself off the floor after another hard night, I put full faith in the Prayer of the Eternally Wasted: \"Dear God, please let there be enough cash in my jeans to purchase at least one Bloody Mary.\"\n\nDespite my pleading and well-constructed appeal to their better natures, the fellas in the bedroom wouldn't clear a space for me in there. Odd jokes were told along the lines of, \"This room is mine, that one is urine.\" They told me they paid extra so that they could have some privacy, and left unspoken that only a fool would allow a bed\/floor-wetter into their personal sleeping space. Neither of them had ever brought a woman home, and I often wondered if they might have been lovers. They were brothers, though, so I guess that would have been kinda weird, even by decadent resort standards. Eventually it dawned on me that they didn't want me in their room because they were afraid I'd _do_ something to it. Something out of the ordinary, that is. It's a shock to find that even relatively weird people\u2014the sort nowhere near the mainstream\u2014can be worried that one is capable of behavior horrible beyond reason. It's another shock to realize they probably have a point.\n\nJoe and I brought lots of women home\u2014no small feat given that neither of us had any money. We were poor because we didn't have real jobs. In those days I worked twelve hours a week babysitting skis at a slope called Buttermilk Mountain for six dollars an hour and, more important, a free ski pass. Joe was a busboy at a local restaurant and, on occasion, a professional gigolo. The little money we made we spent on alcohol. A _shitload_ of alcohol. And we worked the system. There were several joints that offered free happy-hour food, so we survived on that and the surprisingly filling pretzel mix at our favorite dive, Cooper Street Pier. Whenever we weren't skiing\u2014and often when we were\u2014we were drunk. Sometimes we'd be taking drugs, too, because drugs help manage the shakes. Cocaine was more readily available in Aspen than anywhere I'd ever been. The bank machines spit out rolled-up twenties, and when most people said they were doing bumps, they weren't talking about mogul runs.\n\nOn one occasion I was driven to wonder aloud why, despite the myriad reasons they shouldn't, women would now and then go home with guys like Joe and me. Kate the bartender said it was because we were ski bums. \"Tourists and freshmen* love ski bums,\" she explained. \"They're like trophies. Rites of passage. A notch on their belts.\"\n\nI didn't know whether to be flattered or offended at being called a bum, so I did what I always do when these sorts of dilemmas arise: I ordered another shot of whiskey. It was 11:45 P.M. on a Monday, I was still in my ski clothes, and a cute blonde was giving me the eye. I thought, \"My God, Kate's right!\" Then I opted to invest even more money in recreational pursuits and bought the blonde a cocktail.\n\n#   The Origin of the Word \"Cocktail\"\n\nTruth is, nobody knows for sure where the word \"cocktail\" came from, but several plausible theories exist. Some etymologists claim cocktail is derived from the French word \"coquetier,\" or \"egg cup,\" the little containers used to serve boiled eggs. In the early 1800s a New Orleans apothecary named Antoine Peychaud (of Peychaud Bitters fame) invented a drink containing absinthe, brandy, and bitters and served it inside a coquetier. Others contend that the cocktail owes its name to the dubious bygone practice of garnishing mixed drinks with rooster feathers\u2014and you thought bamboo umbrellas were tacky. It is also possible cocktails are so called due to alcohol's capacity to cock one's tail. I'm a cock, after all, and always looking for tail.\n\nI'm of the opinion that cocktail is derived from \"cock-ale,\" a rot-gut mixture of ale and minced rooster meat that was all the rage in Jolly Olde England in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Anyone interested in mixing up a batch need only procure a cask of fortified brew, add a sack containing spices and a rooster that's been mashed to a pulp, and allow the mixture to settle for a week. Umm... sounds cock-a-doodle-yummy, eh?\n\nI never \"lived\" anywhere in the many years I spent in Aspen, at least not in the conventional sense. But I crashed at lots of places. One of 'em burned down, and they had a real nice benefit at Planet Hollywood for everyone who'd lived there. Since I was just freeloading, I never saw any of that cash. I also crashed at the North Star, a run-down motel turned housing complex for employees of the Hotel Jerome, where I made shit money carrying rich people's bags. The North Star would be considered decent digs in most towns, but in Aspen it was the ghetto. At one point I shared a studio apartment with four other guys. Housing five grown men in a three-hundred-square-foot studio was a clear violation of safety regulations, not to mention the Geneva Convention, and in order to avoid detection by the property manager, we always had to keep the windows shut and the blinds closed. It stank like hell in that place, but hey, it was home. Rent: $150 a man.\n\nWhile living in this arrangement I ran for mayor of Aspen under the Happy Hour Party banner. While no connection was ever proven, it was after my platform called for permanently converting luxury hotel rooms to employee housing that I was fired from the swanky Hotel Jerome and left the friendly funk of the North Star. I'd always leave the places behind, but never the lifestyle. For example, most nights seemed to involve some sort of minor ski-town altercation in or around one of Aspen's many nightclubs (as opposed to Philly-style altercations where you can get seriously fucked up), followed by the nagging thought that maybe I had started it. These doubts were generally fueled by acquaintances who had been at the scene and vouched that I had indeed behaved so obnoxiously that they themselves had wanted to pistol-whip me bloody except they were wearing their good T-shirts.\n\nI'd often slip and fall on the ice after last call, which explained the ever-present welts. If I was with a woman, I'd usually execute a precautionary vomit in the men's room in an effort to avoid any ugly incidents once I got her back to her place. And they say chivalry is dead. Eventually, as Rocky Mountain media trivia experts may recall, the _Aspen Daily News_ hired me to write about my hideous existence twice a week. Years later, my editor would disclose that virtually every management meeting had the agenda item, \"When are you firing Danny?\" He would point out that most people in Aspen on any given night were going to drink too much and try to get laid, and that all the married thirtysomething managers were going to go home early, and that I was the voice of Party Aspen. And he'd tell them my behavior was actually an asset to the paper, despite the boycott and loose talk about restraining orders. Anywhere else in the world, my sort of behavior would warrant dismissal, intervention, and likely even incarceration. Not in Aspen. At least, not in _my_ Aspen. In my Aspen, it passed for normal and if you had the stamina to hold forth on the virtue of casual sex while balancing atop a Cooper Street barstool at closing time, well good for you.\n\n\"That,\" said my editor, \"is exactly the point.\"\n\nOur merry band's existence centered on skiing, but celebrated a post-collegiate lifestyle that may seem reckless from the outside and looks like a sick and frantic survival trip from the inside\u2014especially as one realizes that the real world does not exactly condone any of it. This became evident from time to time, as did the sort of attention-deficit problems associated with the party life. An example: Shortly after we were evicted from the aforementioned apartment\u2014you know, the one with the pee-soiled carpet\u2014I ran into the landlady and we talked. She had asked us to leave rather nicely, citing \"countless\" violations of the lease, and we had complied without protest. There are times when you just know it's best to move on. She even came over on the day we packed up to wish us well.\n\n\"I hope this place was good to you guys... even though you did have too many people living here,\" she said, recounting one of those countless violations. She added, \"I guess you got some use out of that sofa bed.\"\n\nSilence.\n\nWe had a fucking _sofa bed?_ And to think I spent all those nights on that stinking floor in my own... ah, screw it. Other people might say they pissed themselves laughing when they heard that. Not me; I know the downside of such sayings.\n\nOf course, it wasn't all fun and games and piss-soaked carpets in Aspen. The town was in the midst of an identity crisis in the mid-1990s. Some locals, mainly business interests, deemed it a world-class ski resort whose lifeblood was tourists' dollars: a town constantly struggling to find a competitive edge in an industry that had been steadily declining since the boom-boom'80's. Others, by whom I mean both ski bums with access to trust funds and crunchy-granola types who worked for the forest service, believed it was still a funky little mountain town willing and able to obviate overdevelopment and cultural homogenization through political action or sheer force of will. As a columnist, I was content to survey the battlefield and fire the occasional shot at the local powers-that-were. Three days before 1996 began, I did just that.\n\nI had been sunk in a deep depression brought on by the jarring realization that for the twenty-sixth consecutive year, I'd accomplished nothing of any significance. To make matters worse, by living and writing and starving in Aspen, I had been forced to watch all manner of movers and shakers parade into town with their fancy clothes and big wads of cash, and I was consumed with envy. It was shallow of me, to be sure, but it's easy to turn perverted in the face of obscene wealth. During the height of the ski season the airport was a full-blown circus of private planes, limousines, and big-busted women in furs draped on the arms of their fat-cat sugar daddies. The eclectic mix of freewheeling mavericks who'd migrated there in the '60s and '70s had, for the most part, moved on or gone mad. They'd been replaced by Planet Hollywood, Prada, and, worst of all, prickly dotcommers from Silicon Valley. The few throwbacks who remained were so embittered, having watched the rape and pillage of the town by absentee landowners and nouveau-riche boomers, that they'd been reduced to kicking and screaming about the sad state of affairs like spoiled children.\n\nDuring the holidays, to supplement my meager newspaper income I waited tables at a local diner. It was there I suffered the greatest indignity of my short-lived service-industry career. One day a very powerful Hollywood executive and his family were seated in my section, all of them clearly determined to run me into the ground during the lunch rush while stripping me of what little self-esteem remained... really, I wasn't cut out for waiting tables. The kids were screaming at me. The wife screamed at me. Somebody called on the exec's cell phone and I think he may have handed it to me so the caller could scream at me. It was about all I could handle, yet somehow I managed to hold it together until it came time to take their dessert order.\n\n\"Honey,\" the exec sneered to his wife\u2014did I mention they were bickering the entire meal?\u2014\"the guy is waiting to take your order. Everyone's ordered but you.\" She was chatting with her daughter, and although she clearly saw me and heard him, she chose not to acknowledge either of us. I offered to come back whenever it was she might be ready, but the exec held up a finger to indicate that I should remain there, pen and pad at the ready.\n\n\"Honey,\" he repeated, with decidedly more urgency, \"the guy is waiting!\"\n\nYap, yap, yap.\n\n\"He's _waiting,_ dammit. Now c'mon!\"\n\nWith that, she turned toward him, first-degree murder in her eyes. It was clear she loathed this man the way sculptors abhor pigeons and, no doubt, for many of the same reasons. She glanced my way for a moment, just long enough for me to register the utter contempt in which she most assuredly held me and all my kind. Then she returned that frosty gaze to her husband and spat, \"Isn't that why they call them waiters?\" Ouch!\n\nLater that afternoon at the newspaper, still seething from the encounter, I penned a column offering service workers tips for surviving difficult guest-relations situations. Among the not-so-perspicacious nuggets was this: \"Whenever you feel you've been mistreated by a paying customer, it is always advisable to avoid direct confrontation and to secretly spit in their food before serving it to them.\" In retrospect, it wasn't very funny and hardly original. In my defense, I had a very horny gal in town visiting from New Orleans and my libido compelled me to complete the damn column in less than twenty minutes, plus I was angry as all hell. The foofaraw that ensued after the tip appeared in the paper, however, was nothing short of remarkable.\n\nIt was my first real experience with the Aspen Magnifier, that supernatural lens that takes anything cute or funny or tragic that happens there and magnifies it by the power of the brand name of \"Aspen.\" It's why companies label products from shitty cars to toilet paper with the A-word. Had everyone left me alone, it would have been a one-day story and never made national headlines. That didn't happen.\n\nThe nearly all-powerful Aspen Skiing Company expressed its opprobrium by canceling all their advertising with the _Aspen Daily News,_ citing the offensive nature of my column. The local Chamber of Commerce also killed their ads and dispatched a fax to all its members encouraging them to do the same. Many did. KOA Radio\u2014the most listened-to talk radio station in Colorado\u2014dubbed me the \"Howard Stern of the Rockies,\" and the _Denver Post_ ran a front-page story about the \"war\" in Aspen. And, oh, what a war it was. For five straight weeks the newspaper's opinion page was filled with letters of support and condemnation. A reporter from _Time_ magazine called to discuss the matter. Secret meetings were held. Imprecations were exacted. Calls for me to be either cudgeled or canonized rose lustily from the citizenry. Aspen's very survival seemed to hang in the balance. In short, the spit had hit the fan.\n\nOne side labeled me a no-talent jerk who'd bitten the hand that feeds Aspen by insulting tourists. The manager of the ritzy Little Nell Hotel wrote, \"Dan Dunn's recent disgusting article in your paper was the height of arrogance and insensitivity towards those who make it possible for us to enjoy living in this wonderful valley. One hopes, for his sake, that no one with an incurable disease spits in _his_ food.\"\n\nThe disenfranchised locals in my camp were equally fiery: \"Bless Dan Dunn's twisted heart for really getting the job done in the _Daily News._ For those of you who find his humor tasteless, hey, don't eat it,\" wrote one supporter.\n\nThe whole thing had me walking around a little more crabwise than ever before. Constantly having to look over one's shoulder is no way to live, particularly for someone smoking as much weed as I was back then. After the thing broke I was beset by a series of hardships: my complimentary ski pass was pulled, I tore cartilage in my knee, and I received word that an old friend from the East Coast had been killed in a car accident. Coincidences? Not a chance. The Ski Overlords of Fantasyland had put the hex on me and I couldn't shake it\u2014even after an emergency visit to New Orleans to celebrate Mardi Gras.\n\nYou've gotta understand that Aspen was\u2014and still is\u2014a far cry from places like New York City or L.A., where at least the weirdos _look_ weird and it's much easier to distinguish between two-bit dipshits and truly vile scum. Things aren't ever what they seem up there in the clouds, although the inherent inscrutability has little to do with the altitude. In Aspen, evil comes impeccably attired and well-mannered, yet it will squash you like a bug under a Range Rover before you can say, \"Hey, was that Kenny G?\" Power twists people, and makes them do awful things. Think your CEO is a motherfucker at work? You should see him on vacation. There's plenty of truth to the old Irish saying: if you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gives it to.\n\nA TV crew from ABC's _Good Morning America_ came to Aspen not long after the spitting-column incident, and local officials went to great lengths to ensure that the national populace saw only a travel-brochure-ready fool's paradise while they munched their cornflakes. At one point during the broadcast, then-host Joan Lunden remarked, \"There are all kinds of things going on in this wonderful little town.\" How's that for a real pisser?\n\nAfter Aspen I eventually made my way to Los Angeles, where I spent half a decade living hand to mouth, securing the occasional freelance writing gig along with numerous loans from my long-suffering parents\u2014who, by the way, still consider me a staggering disappointment. Then one day I stumbled, quite literally, into an old friend who happened to be a big-time newspaper editor. The guy was out on the town with a lady _other_ than his wife, and before you could say \"extortion\" or \"another round, please\" I found myself in the employ of a large international newspaper chain, writing that dream column I used to ramble on about to bartenders on those long, lonely nights when I'd come down with a case of the \"crying drunks.\"\n\nIn the beginning, my expertise was limited to cheap domestic beer and Mad Dog, but I persevered (and made a lot of shit up, too), and \"The Imbiber\" became a hit. The only hitch is that my jet-setting lifestyle doesn't include much cash. See, it's perfectly ethical for liquor conglomerates to send me a free bottle of wine valued at five thousand dollars or whisk me away on an all-expenses-paid junket to a yacht tour of Scottish distilleries; they just can't offer me any money. That would be wrong. So one of my challenges has been to live high on the hog on a lowly reporter's wage.\n\nAn author friend of mine once told me that first chapters are like first dates\u2014you start out wondering what to say and end up wondering if you said too much. So let's begin by establishing the kind of trust that makes a long-term relationship possible. For example, you can trust that I am, above all else, a competent and highly trained professional. It's not just that I've reviewed wine and spirits for the likes of Playboy.com, Metro International Newspapers, the _Los Angeles Times,_ and the Lou's House of Booze monthly newsletter, or even that I've parked my ever-widening can on more barstools than a two-time divorc\u00e9e on a singles cruise. No, you can trust me because I truly believe, along with Oscar Wilde, that \"work is the curse of the drinking classes,\" and that adult beverages consumed in moderation are justification for most of Western culture. Thus I agree with the noted Irish tippler George Bernard Shaw, who once said that \"Alcohol is the anesthesia by which we endure the operation of life.\" And as most anyone who grew up in an Irish-Catholic family will attest, the operation in question can take longer than separating conjoined twins.\n\nSo there you have my booze bona fides... but I do come with some baggage. Hell, there isn't a reputable drinks writer alive who doesn't bear the scars inherent in a life spent in dogged pursuit of dangerous mind-altering compounds found in dark establishments invariably filled with cold-hearted thugs and loose women. For example, rum and I had a falling-out a half decade ago\u2014the result of an ugly pi\u00f1a colada\u2013related \"incident\" at a bar in South Philly during a particularly rowdy celebration following an Eagles' victory. Swore off the stuff forever. Of course, I said the same thing about betting on Major League Baseball once, too. Okay, more than once. But whaddaya gonna do? Watch Milwaukee Brewers games just _for fun?_\n\nAnd I simply must go on record as being unequivocally opposed to the much-ballyhooed abomination known as Low-Carb Beer. Or, as my dear old Uncle Denny likes to call it, Diet Swill. If you're worried about packing on pounds while tippling, drink vodka for heaven's sake. Just leave the beer\u2014real, carbo-loaded brew, the way God intended it\u2014to those of us who think love handles are sexy and consider a paunch hanging over the belt a mark of good character. Besides, why settle for \"six-pack abs\" when you can have a party-ball belly?\n\nAlso, of all the annoying trends that have flourished in recent years (celebrities adopting kids in Third World countries, Bluetooth earpieces, gossip blogs by and for insipid quidnuncs, to name a few), none has been more irritating than the widespread use of alcohol abuse as a cop-out for all manner of deplorable behavior. I've been around a lot of bad drunks in my day and seen some moderate drinkers overindulge and act quite peculiar while under the influence. But I don't care who you are or how much you've had to drink\u2014the intoxicating qualities of alcohol cannot be blamed for the following:\n\n  *  Anti-Semitism\n  *  Pedophilia\n  *  Homosexuality\n  *  Recording a Paris Hilton CD\n\nWhen Hilton's _The Simple Life_ co-star Nicole Ritchie was arrested for driving in the wrong direction on an L.A. freeway in late 2006, she admitted to police that she was higher than the price of real estate in Manhattan. Being hopped-up doesn't excuse horrendous driving, but it is a reasonable explanation for it. However, if Ritchie tried to refute the allegations that she's anorexic by claiming a particularly potent appletini made her forget to eat for the past eighteen months, well... you see the point. Booze isn't to blame for an eating disorder any more than it is for Mel Gibson's ranting against Jews, or disgraced Congressman Mark Foley's predatory behavior toward young boys. As for Foley being gay (which has nothing to do with him being a pedophile, by the way), that was established when he was born, not when he started getting loaded.\n\nTo be sure, excessive consumption of alcohol is to blame for all sorts of trouble, but to allow it to become the go-to scapegoat for all the world's ills is irresponsible and dangerous. I say we put an end to this passing the buck from here on out. But before we do, I want to apologize in advance for any inaccuracies, typos, or flat-out distortions that may appear in the ensuing pages. In my defense, I was probably pretty liquored-up when I wrote most of this, and I think my editor fancies ridiculously expensive liquor a bit too much.\n\nI'll also confess that I used to be somewhat obsessed with politics, regularly digesting everything and anything having to do with the affairs of government. Now, though, I'm just a dabbler. I hear things, and I think about them sometimes, but I no longer think _real hard_ about politics. These days my thoughts tend to be more arbitrary. For instance, just last weekend I spent nearly two hours pondering the historical significance of Milton Bradley's Operation\u2014a tabletop game, wildly popular in the late 1970s, that delivers an electric shock to small children with poor hand-eye coordination. Surely, millions of people spanning generations suffered irreparable psychological damage because their parents weren't satisfied with Monopoly. How did Operation pass government safety standards? More important, is it still around?\n\nNow, instead of thinking about politics, I find myself getting drunk a lot and thinking about things like the statue of David. That divine masterpiece is worthy of more attention than George W. Bush's failed fiscal and foreign policies. Michelangelo completed _David_ in 1504 when he was but twenty-five years old, an age at which most people are still stealing ink-jet cartridges from our employers so we can send badly written Christmas newsletters to people who don't like us anyway. _David_ stands today as a reminder of how beautiful we can be, particularly if we manage to be immortalized in marble by Michelangelo. Unfortunately, Michelangelo... he dead.\n\nWhat I'm trying to impress upon you here with this opening salvo is that at the end of the day\u2014a time we call Happy Hour\u2014it's all about developing a solid foundation upon which to build a respectable drinking life. For instance, if the words \"White Russian\" remind you of Tony's former mistress on _The Sopranos_ or a certain dancer who played a love interest on _Sex and The City,_ then clearly you need to wean yourself _off_ the DVD collections of dearly departed HBO series and haul your couch-potato self down to the local bar. For me, the White Russian has always been on the sophisticated drinks list, even back when I considered it a semi-chick \"pace drink\" between whiskeys. And it had the huge added advantage of being one of the few cocktails that I could remember the name of and make at home.\n\nActual date conversation, circa 2005:\n\n\"So, babe, welcome to my place. Would you like a drink?\"\n\n\"Yeah, great... how about a Cosmo Double-Twist dismount martini, but with vodka instead of gin and replace the cherry with a kosher olive?\"\n\n\"Uhhhh, I was thinking this would be a great night for a White Russian.\"\n\n\"Wow. You _are_ sophisticated.\"\n\nBack then, all it took was two ounces of vodka, an ounce or so of Kahl\u00faa, some light cream from the nearby 7-11, and it was James Bondage time. These days\u2014and I suspect this started with the Starbucks crowd\u2014the big thing is the \"skinny\" White Russian, which includes the same vodka and Kahl\u00faa but topped with soy milk. This was made officially trendy a while back when _USA Today_ reported that Jennifer Garner and Molly Simms were among the celebs sipping the SWR, thus removing any question about that paper's dedication to serious investigative journalism.\n\nAs you've probably figured out by now, I think it's best we don't get too serious about _anything_ here. While I certainly look forward to sharing my thoughts with you on cocktails and drinking in the ensuing pages, I realized something as I typed in the quote from the Irish guy they named the huge dog after: it could be that everything worth thinking about the matter has already been thunk.\n\nTake the late, great comedian and _Hollywood Squares_ all-star George Gobel, who swore he'd never been drunk, but maintained he'd often been overserved. Jack Benny's sidekick Phil Harris made no apologies, and on more than one occasion claimed he couldn't die until the government found a safe place to bury his liver. So here's a toast to Phil, who passed away in 1995 and is surely enjoying a heavenly martini from time to time: May what goes down not come back up again.\n\nHenny Youngman once said that when he read about the evils of drinking, he gave up reading, and Dylan Thomas defined an alcoholic as \"someone you don't like who drinks as much as you do.\" My all-time favorite tippler-quote comes courtesy of that legendary statesman and fellow Philadelphian, Ben Franklin, who cited beer as \"proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.\"\n\nBenny, I couldn't have put it better myself.\n\n_____________\n\n* Aspenese for \"newcomers.\"\n\n# Step 2\n\n# When They Say, \"You'll Need Shots\" to Go to Some Countries, They Don't Mean the Kind at the Airport Bar\n\nBlond, blotto, and broken down in Piccadilly Circus\u2014it marked a rather inglorious end to what had been an otherwise triumphant march across the European Continent on the mother of all booze junkets. It was in the summer sometime in the early part of this century, if booze-addled memory serves (and it often doesn't)\u2014the summer I came into my own as a worldly-wise professional wino on my first professional trip abroad. In addition to stops at numerous distilleries, my travels included unexpected encounters with:\n\n  *  a B-list American actor in Turin\n  *  a tight squeeze involving a chatty Irish gal\n  *  a controversial dessert selection and a pair of Italian-made jeans\n  *  my own personal D-Day on Normandy's Omaha Beach\n  *  a clash with a bungling French airline\n  *  a sighting of the Clash's Mick Jones in London's Trafalgar Square.\n\nYou have your business trips. I'll have mine.\n\n'Twas truly a rollicking ride, my sightseeing, spirits-swilling sojourn across the pond. And I did it all on the company dime and as the guest of a series of multinational, junket-sponsoring liquor companies that seldom suspected I was even on vacation. Yet there's no need to fret over missing a single moment because, frankly, many of the moments were excruciatingly dull. The exciting times, though\u2014well, those I preserved in my handy drinking diary. Right, then. Some highlights:\n\n## Piccadilly Circus, London. 5:14 P.M., Friday, July 21.\n\nSpent the morning in a small pub on the Strand attempting to corner the market on **Guinness.** Pissed the hell out of the Limey bartender by continuously asking him if he \"spoke American.\" You're _sure_ Bill Clinton went to college near here? Noon found me not far from this renowned district of commerce in a terrible wrestling match with powerful demons spawned from the wretched loins of the Guinness beast. As one might expect, the demons scored a decisive victory. Somewhat impaired and quite possibly in need of medical attention, I instead sought refuge in\u2014of all places\u2014a trendy Soho hair salon, under the supervision of an undernourished gay stylist named Lincoln.\n\n#   Interview with a Guinness Brewmaster\n\nIn 1759 an enterprising lad named Arthur Guinness negotiated a nine-thousand-year lease (at seventy dollars a year) on the St. James Gate Brewery in Dublin. Guess ole Arthur had a hunch his brew would be around for a while. These days the responsibility for carrying on Arthur's legacy lies with Fergal Murray, who's been head brewmaster at Guinness since 1995. I sat down with him once, and gave him a grilling worthy of Mike Wallace*\n\n**There's a perception in America that Guinness is fattening, when in fact it has fewer calories (about 125 per serving) than most domestic and imported light beers.**\n\nFERGAL MURRAY: We've always had the beer this way. Other folks have adapted their beers to appeal to light beer drinkers in the United States, but our beer has always been that way.\n\n**Does the Guinness available in the States have less alcohol than in Ireland?**\n\nIt's 4.2 percent alcohol in the States\u2014exactly the same as we drink in Dublin and the rest of Western Europe.\n\n**What type of food goes well with Guinness?**\n\nMy favorite is seafood with pints of stout. Then again, there's nothing better than a cottage pie or an Irish stew with Guinness. Also, fusion foods\u2014Asian fusion, especially. And it goes great with salads with bacon on top, too.\n\n**So, basically, Guinness pairs well with everything but nachos?**\n\nIt goes great with nachos!\n\n**We're all blissfully obsessed with celebrities. Do famous people drink Guinness?**\n\nAny of the leading actors of the world, when they come to Dublin, they enjoy a pint. The Rolling Stones are big fans. U2, of course. I've seen George Clooney having a pint, and Pierce Brosnan, too. But a lot of the girls drink it\u2014Angelina Jolie is a big fan.\n\n**And I'm a big fan of Angelina... you, too?**\n\nOh, yes.\n\n_____________\n\n* A developmentally challenged guy from my old neighborhood, _not_ the dude from _60 Minutes._\n\n# Interview with a Guinness Brewmaster\n\nI'd be proud of my position as an international degenerate except that, as I'm making this diary entry, at yet another pub, I'm seeking important local travel insight by flipping through the pages of _Reach for the Ground._ This excellent book chronicles the downhill struggle of a true degenerate, an English legend in fact: the late, great _Spectator_ columnist Jeffrey Bernard, who served as patron saint and hero to crapulous types the world over.* Well-deserved regards to former GQ magazine Mixology columnist Terry Sullivan for recommending Bernard's fine work, said recommendation coming on the heels of a similar steering toward J. P. Donleavy's debased _The Ginger Man*_ and a brilliant piece of madness called _Killoyle_ penned by a psychotic alcoholic by the name of Boylan. There's a trend here.\n\nCheers, Sullivan, ole boy... the irreparable damage to my Rube Goldbergian psyche is now complete. You'll hear from my solicitors. And it should be noted that I also have blond hair now. Really, I do. I don't know how I feel about the new look, but Soho seems cool, and Lincoln assured me I look like the tits!\n\n**Turin Palace Hotel, Turin, Italy. Late at Night, Wednesday, July 5.**\n\nI never had any reason to hate the French until today. I arrived in Milan much earlier this morning after connecting in Paris on Air France.* My luggage was lost, and because I understood about as much French as the average Pentecostal preacher from Alabama, it was impossible to ascertain whether anyone at the airline had the faintest clue as to where my things might be. An Air France representative offered me a lengthy clarification in her native tongue. Not a single word was recognizable, but fearing the repercussions of being perceived as an ignorant American pig-dog, I cleverly sprinkled the \"conversation\" with a liberal helping of \"oui,\" which I understand is French for \"due to a lack of understanding, I have to pee.\" My luggage, I think they assured me, would no doubt arrive within the hour. So here I am, dining naked and alone in my room. I tried to have a meal at the hotel restaurant, but they didn't allow sweatpants, and that's all I had, thanks to Air France.* The sweatpants, incidentally, were hanging from my hotel window; this in hopes of airing out the considerable odor of eau de armpit.\n\nWhile checking in, I bumped into the American actor Giovanni Ribisi, a cat I'd met before at press junkets and through mutual friends. Turns out that Vanni, as he's known around Hollywood, was shooting a movie in Turin. He graciously pretended to remember me, so in return I made no reference to his involvement in the horrendous remake of _The Mod Squad._ Our encounter played out something like this:\n\n**Int. Italian Hotel Lobby\u2014Day**\n\nDAN, a strikingly handsome travel journalist attired in stylish, if slightly gamey, sweatpants, is standing next to the American actor GIOVANNI RIBISI, who starred in _Saving Private Ryan, The Boiler Room,_ and _The Mod_... er, never mind.\n\nDAN: Hey, Vanni, how's it going?\n\nGiovanni feigns recognition.\n\nGIOVANNI: Hey, um... my friend-a, it's-a going okay-a.\n\nDAN: (looking more strikingly handsome with each passing moment, wearing sweats like few in the business) Great. Great. Funny seeing you here.\n\nGIOVANNI: Yes-a. I'm-a\u2014how you say?\u2014en-joy-ing-a my time-a here in Torino.\n\nDAN: Why are you talking like that, dude?\n\nGIOVANNI: Scusee, but-a have-a been-a studying-a Italiano for several months-a, and I must-a stay-a in character-a.\n\nDAN: Several months. Really?\n\nGIOVANNI: Yes-a.\n\nDan produces a notepad from his jacket pocket and scribbles something. EXTREME CLOSE-UP on what he's written: \"His dialect coach used to work for Air France Communications.... I predict another _Mod Squad.\"_\n\n**Ristorante Del Cambio, Turin, Italy. Thursday, July 6.**\n\nBuilt in 1757 to the design of famed architect Antonio Bellino, Del Cambio is a marvel. Located across from the Palazzo Carignano\u2014home of the first Italian Parliament\u2014this place has long been _the_ spot for the biggest names in Italian politics... not that I purport to know the names of many Italian politicians, living or dead, given that they've had forty-six governments since World War II. I am, however, familiar with the legend of Count Cavour, who is credited with unifying Italy. They say Cavour spoke Italian, thought in French, and dined Piedmontese-style at Del Cambio, his \"very favorite restaurant in all the world,\" according to the headwaiter.\n\nSitting among a group of very excellent people\u2014Europeans and Americans alike\u2014in a luxurious dining room bearing the Count's name, directly beneath a bronze plaque emblazoned with tricolor ribbons commemorating the Count's favorite place to sit, eating food and drinking wine fit for... well, for Count fucking Cavour, it stands to reason I'd be merrier than the bald guy on _The Mary Tyler Moore Show._ But I'm not. On the contrary, I'm quite troubled. And today, being fully in touch with my previously latent Franco-enmity, I lay all the blame for my disquietude on the French, a people whose largest air carrier has yet to recover my lost baggage. Hence the Italian jeans.\n\nIf you gave a pair of Italian-made men's jeans a passing glance, you'd likely presume them to be\u2014as I did\u2014much like America's own Levi's or Gap denims or something from the good rack at TJ Maxx. Same color, same feel, same bloated price tag (except at TJ Maxx). You might even grab a pair in your usual size off the rack\u2014as I did\u2014and purchase them sans fitting. This would be a mistake. In the interest of consumer safety, I now present:\n\n## TRAVEL TIP #31: Never purchase Italian-made men's jeans without first trying them on. Italian-made men's jeans are made for unusually thin males devoid of hips or testicles. If you have hips and\/or testicles, it's advisable to avoid Italian jeans altogether.\n\nIf, however, you find yourself in a situation where, for instance, an inept French airline has carelessly lost most of your clothing, and a new pair of Italian-made jeans is the only affordable alternative to a pair of fetid sweatpants, I suggest trying on a pair at least three sizes larger than normal.\n\n\"Aren't those jeans just squeezing the hell out of your balls?\" asked the woman sitting next to me\u2014a nice Irish gal who, it turns out, worked for Bacardi.\n\n\"Huh?\" I mumbled, shifting uneasily and wondering how it could be so obvious.\n\n\"I said, aren't you just having _a hell of a ball?_ I am. I really, really am.\"\n\nShe smiled, and I smiled back at her. When she turned away I winced: the eggplant ravioli with fresh tomato and wild mushrooms had gone straight to my hips and I feared my Italian-made jeans might explode.\n\nThen the Count arrived. Not the dead one, but a quite animated latter-day version. Count Esconsio is a bigwig with Martini & Rossi, which is owned by Bacardi, the company hosting the International Bartenders Competition. The IBC was the reason I was in Turin. Bacardi had invited me to attend, as they somehow got the impression I was an important member of the American media. Had they known I was barely employed and researching my new book, _Why Air France Fucking Sucks,_ instead of their latest sparkling wine or the IBC, it was unlikely I'd have been in that restaurant wearing those Italian jeans. Esconsio proved to be a cool cat. Rich. Educated. Dashing. Italian. He had a way of making the guests feel so special that few even noticed that he treated the help like garbage. Dessert was the most beautifully prepared dish I'd ever seen: a large yellowish gelatin mold with vibrant red and blue wild berries suspended inside. I stared at my dessert plate, admiring it. I even took a picture of it. Count Esconsio, however, was unimpressed. He lifted his plate, eyeing the quivering gelatin mold suspiciously. After a long while in which he seemed to be contemplating some sort of hate crime, the Count snapped his fingers angrily. The headwaiter quickly materialized at the table. Esconsio was unhappy.\n\n\"What is this... _trembling cake?\"_\n\nThe headwaiter bowed his head in humiliation. His face turned the same shade of red I imagined my poor balls to be.\n\n\"Turin is home to some of the finest chocolates in the world,\" Esconsio continued, \"and you give my guests this... this... this _trembling cake.\"_\n\nA tear rolled down the headwaiter's cheek.\n\n\"TAKE IT AWAY!!!\" Esconsio barked.\n\nSuddenly, the headwaiter collapsed under the weight of his shame; another powerful reminder that the service industry isn't for the faint of heart... in any language.\n\n**Sandwich Shop, Viareggio, Italy. Sunday, July 9.**\n\nMy friend and co-perambulater on this European sojourn was famed Phoenix deejay Dead Air Dave,* a fascinating fella with the right connections and a solid rep who nonetheless always seems to be \"between gigs.\" Despite hovering in a perpetual state of underemployment, Dave's got a boatload of money, and he's more than willing to share so long as I avoid inquiries into the source of his wealth and the contents of the fortified underground bunker in his backyard.\n\nOver the years Dead Air has become my road-trip go-to guy whenever a wingman\/scapegoat is necessary. He and I left Turin this morning following a confrontation ignited by our vehicle, a 1966 Morris Mini Cooper S, provided gratis for the duration of our stay by some PR flak from Mini's corporate parent, BMW.\n\nBMW gave me the car to drive across Europe because, like the people at Bacardi, they were somehow under the impression that I was an important member of the American media. Had they known I was barely employed and writing about my balls and nonstop drunkenness instead of their automobile, it's entirely likely I'd be hitchhiking my way to London. Now to the encounter...\n\nWe were waiting at a traffic light on our way out of Turin when a black-toothed young Italian lad armed with a squeegee and a spray bottle filled with a turbid liquid approached the car. He smelled as if he'd been flying for days aboard an Air France jet.\n\n\"No, no,\" I shouted as he began spraying his gray splooge all over the Mini's little windshield. \"No money! We have no money to give you.\"\n\nHe took a step back and glowered at me. Then he seemed to notice our Mini's most distinctive feature\u2014its roof. Being among the most famous of all British motorcars, and this particular vehicle being a demo for the media, the folks at BMW\/Mini had gone ahead and proudly slapped a Union Jack across the roof\u2014painted it across the entire top of the car, like a big bullseye. You see, not everyone in Europe is as fond of the British as the British seem to be of themselves\u2014most notably the French (who aren't fond of anyone) and the Italians (especially, it turns out, homeless, black-toothed Italians).\n\n\"Oh,\" he sneered brokenly\u2014or perhaps \"oh\" is also part of the Italian vernacular\u2014\"You are Eeeeenglish.\"\n\n\"Well, actually...\"\n\n\"You are Eeeeenglish,\" he re-sneered, \"so that makes you a neeeeger.\" He flipped us off and marched away.\n\nI turned and said to Dave: \"Did he just call me a neeeeger?\"\n\n\"I believe so,\" Dave replied.\n\n\"Wow, my first racial slur. I feel elated.\"\n\nAnd just like that, I'd been inducted into the brotherhood... by an Italian, of all people. I made a note to reconsider the rap career.\n\n**Near a Tower that Is about to Fall Over in Pisa, Italy. Later the Same Day.**\n\nThere's a game I like to play back home called \"Paying Wrong,\" and it really is a hoot. It works like this: you must play in a convenience store or some other comparable establishment where you're not in danger of discovering Harvard-trained employees behind the counter. If you owe $8.50, for example, give the clerk $12 and watch his cranial abacus start to immediately malfunction. The bill comes to $19.25? Hand the guy a $20 and three $1 bills and observe as he desperately tries to determine what sort of strange change combination you might be after.\n\nUsually, the dupe in your game of Paying Wrong will spend a few moments doing calculations while you chortle mischievously to yourself\u2014and this becomes even more entertaining if there happens to be a line of impatient customers queued up behind you, adding to the clerk's pressure. In most cases, they'll eventually give you correct change, assuming you simply made a mistake. The thrill of the Paying Wrong game, however, comes in the possibility that you'll be confronted by an incensed counter person who demands to know why you forked over $31 to settle a $28.79 tab. At that point\u2014by rule\u2014you must admit that you deliberately paid wrong simply to get a rise out of the clerk. If you're tossed from the store without the goods, you lose. If the clerk takes a swing at you, you win. Again, you have your business trips, and I'll have mine. And that brings us to...\n\n## TRAVEL TIP #2: Avoid Paying Wrong in foreign countries in which you have little or no grasp of the language, because in all likelihood you will lose... or win... or both.\n\nAn example: The cost of my Leaning Tower of Pisa ceramic nightlight was four euros\u2014approximately five dollars. Erroneously thinking it would be a gas to pay wrong in another country, I gave the clerk seven euros and waited for the confusion to set in. He promptly handed me one euro in change and moved on to the next customer.\n\n\"Wait,\" I stammered. \"This isn't the correct change.\"\n\nA blank stare. What I said hadn't registered. As Americans are wont to do when confronted with a language barrier, I began speaking in a slow staccato, dropping modifiers, and employing a bad accent that would have made Vanni damn proud: \"Change-a. Not-a. Correct-a.\" The clerk eyed me with curiosity, in much the same way one might observe monkeys at the zoo. Then another clerk intervened.\n\n\"Whassa da problem?\" he asked.\n\n\"Oh, good, you speak-a Inglesias... um, this nightlight\"\u2014I sheepishly held up the object of contention\u2014\"she cost-a four euro, correct-a?\"\n\n\"Cie.\"\n\n\"Right, right,\" I continued. \"Well, I gave him seven euros, and he gave me only one euro in return.\" Both clerks were now examining the monkey cage. \"Seven! I gave him _seven_ euros.\"\n\nOoo-oo-ah-ah-ee-ee...\n\n\"Scusee, sir, but why you give seven euro when it cost only four euro?\"\n\n\"Because I was paying wrong.\"\n\n\"Paying wrong?\"\n\n\"Yes!\"\n\nI was now jumping up and down inside the cage, banana in one hand, swollen red balls in the other, risking being mistaken for an Air France baggage handler.\n\n\"What is this... this _paying wrong?\"_\n\n\"Paying wrong is... um, it's... oh, forget it!\"\n\nOoo-oo-ah-ah-ee-ee...\n\nOne other note from Pisa: Anyone meaning to study architecture in Italy should cancel their plans ASAP\u2014these clowns are obvious hacks. The tower in Pisa wears more support than Dolly Parton, held up as it is by a huge steel girdle, a ceramic corset, and cables while engineers excavate the ground beneath it in the hope of leveling the foundation. Not a chance. Mark my words, this structure will topple within the next ten years. The tower\u2014which took nearly two hundred years to complete\u2014began leaning in 1178, just five years after construction began. This begs the obvious question: why the hell did they keep building the damn thing? They could have cut it off at the first or second level and wound up with, at worst, a much less embarrassing \"Leaning Rotunda of Pisa.\" But part of the joy of travel is finding out that other cultures are just as screwed up as Back Home. And this tower left me heading for the Mini just a bit less culturally humiliated by that \"World's Largest Groundhog\" shit on I-70 in Kansas.\n\n**The Sporting Club, Nice, France. Friday, 1 P.M.**\n\nI was reading a book called _We Wish to Inform You that Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families,_ an account of the genocide that occurred in Rwanda in 1994 after the Rwandan government implemented a policy that called on everyone in the Hutu majority to murder everyone in the Tutsi minority. The low-tech massacres\u2014largely by machete\u2014were carried out at dazzling speed, and eight hundred thousand Tutsis and Tutsi sympathizers were killed in a hundred days. Pastors in one Tutsi community sent a letter to their church president, a Hutu, that included the chilling phrase that gave author Philip Gourevitch his title. Principally, the Hutu leadership in Kigali cultivated the Hutu Power frenzy that drove Rwandans to kill their neighbors, but they had some outside help in carrying out the genocide. It turns out that almost all of the Rwandan government's military and financial support before, during, and after the massacres was provided by one European country. That country was the very one in which I now found myself sunning: France. So I was sitting there on the beach imagining myself surrounded by dead Rwandans, and adding one more item to my list of reasons to hate the French. Not that they cared, because they clearly hated me more.\n\nI looked down at the hideous French-made purple corduroy shorts I had been compelled to purchase because\u2014in case you missed it\u2014France's largest airline had lost and had yet to recover my luggage in Italy. A fat yellow-toothed local with grotesque saggy bare tits was sitting next to me smoking incessantly and yapping away to an even fatter and froggier confr\u00e8re\u2014no doubt making fun of my fashion misfortune.\n\nOhhh, my kingdom for the fall of France.\n\nThen Chloe, a regular Venus de Milo in a miniskirt and with a serving tray, appeared in all her sensualistic splendor. \"Would you like another beer, monsieur?\" she purred.\n\n\"I don't believe 'like' really covers the bill on my affinity for beer, Chloe,\" I replied suavely.\n\nShe giggled, flashed a kittenish smile, then bumped and grinded her way to the bar. Seconds later she returned with an ice-cold Kronenbourg.* Hey, maybe the French aren't so bad after all. To American men, French women turn out to be very much akin to their language\u2014sexy as hell, but hard to pick up. Dead Air Dave wasn't having much luck with the women or the language. Dave leered lasciviously at Chloe after she handed him a beer, and the repugnance on her face was as palpable as the contemptuous quiver of her ample bosom.\n\n\"Mer-soir,\" Dave told her, which translates roughly to \"Thank evening.\"\n\n\"I think you meant _merci,\"_ I corrected Dave after Chloe left. He shot me a funny look. He'd been perverting languages since we arrived in Italy, and he damn sure wasn't going to stop in France. In fact, Dave had butchered the Italian language with such consistency and conviction that many of the Italians we met along the way had begun sprinkling their own conversations with \"Dead Air-isms.\" I damn near spit out a mouthful of trembling cake in that restaurant in Turin when the oh-so-Italian Count Esconcio, lord of the Martini & Rossi family, made reference to \"Florenze\"\u2014a Dead Air-ism combining the English and Italian words for the country's cultural center. Rather than exhibit embarrassment over his linguistic lapse, the Count seemed downright tickled to be playing the role of the ill-adapted American.\n\n\"I like-a the way-a dat sounds-a,\" he had chuckled to Dave. \"I'm-a gonna go to America and be-a talking like you soon\u2014how you say?\u2014getting _jeeegy_ with it.\" Then he raised a toast to Dead Air Dave and America, and all the Italians lit up like Roman candles. My God... what are we doing to these people and their culture? First the Big Mac and Air Jordan and now this? Before you know it, the statue of David will be on display on the state-fair circuit in Missouri wearing hideous purple shorts.\n\nIn Italian, when someone thanks you\u2014 _grazie_ \u2014it's appropriate to respond _\"prego,\"_ which means \"you're welcome.\" Dead Air's first attempt at \"you're welcome\" came out \"primo,\" and he stuck with it.\n\n\"But Dave, 'primo' means 'great,'\" I told him.\n\n\"Really?\" he replied, thoughtfully stroking the bushy soul patch beneath his lower lip. \"Well, it's better to be great than merely to be welcome, eh?\"\n\nHe had a point. A primo point, actually.\n\nI was having my own fun with language\u2014namely, learning and utilizing insulting French phrases. My favorites so far:\n\n\"Vos _enfants sont tr\u00e8s beaux. Ils sont adopt\u00e9s?\"_ (\"Your children are very attractive. Are they adopted?\"). First used this one the day before on an obnoxious couple from Calais who were causing quite a disturbance in the lobby at Nice's Hotel Splendid, which is anything but. We were paying 250 euros a night for a broom closet sans windows, sleeping on wooden racks that the Plantagenets no doubt had used to torture the Capetians back in the Hundred Years' War (I'd been reading a lot). In retaliation, I phoned the front desk regularly and at the top of my lungs complained, _\"J'ai une grenouille dans mon bidet!\"_ (\"I have a frog in my bidet!\"), demanding it be removed immediately. Then I dropped a postcard bearing Victor Hugo's likeness into the bidet and left the room. I was informed the entire housekeeping staff threatened to quit if called upon to visit my broom closet again.\n\n_\"Est-ce que vous \u00eates ivre?\"_ (\"Are you drunk?\") I kept posing this question to Dave, to which he invariably replied, \"mer-soir.\"\n\nAnd I had a real zinger at the ready for my departure from France. When the customs agent asked if I had anything to declare, I planned to respond, _\"Juste mon genie.\"_ (\"Only my genius.\") Much thanks to the late, great Oscar Wilde for that one.\n\n**Quarter Ancien, Cognac, France. Wendesday? Thursday? Hard to Tell.**\n\nNo respectable spirits writer would chronicle a month-long European vacation without including some functional content for tax-write-off purposes. A caveat: On the day I decided to do this research, I wound up getting shittier than Ted Kennedy on holiday in Nantucket and therefore cannot reasonably be held responsible for the validity of the following information.\n\nIn the heart of the Charente region of western France, the locals refer to the unique climate and soils, and the proximity of the ocean, as a \"happy accident of nature.\" And just why are they so elated? Because the climate and soil, along with moisture from the sea, are key factors in the production of cognac\u2014that most delicious and stately of libations. Cognac is a versatile spirit that can be enjoyed neat or with water as a _digestif*_ or an _aperitif.*_ It's also nice on the rocks or in a cocktail or slugged straight from the bottle while muttering obscure French insults. In the short time Dave and I had been in Cognac, we enjoyed it seventeen ways from Sunday... wait, is today Sunday? And did I mention cognac goes well over cold cereal?\n\nUnlike beer, cocktails, or divorce attorneys, picking a cognac requires a bit more thought and effort than it takes to utter the words \"A tall, cold one, please.\" One of the keys to ordering cognac is understanding the label. Cognac is a product with a controlled appellation, with certificates of age and origin issued by the industry's governing body. No cognac may be sold unless it is at least two and a half years old. The minimum age of the youngest _eau-de-vie_ (spirit) used in the blend determines the name under which the cognac will be sold. And that brings us to the aforementioned know-how\u2014the degrees of cognac:\n\n  *  VS (or Three Stars)\u2014the youngest _eau-de-vie_ is less than four and a half years old.\n  *  VSOP (Very Superior Old Pale) or VO (Very Old)\u2014the youngest _eau-de-vie_ is between four and a half and six and a half years old.\n  *  Napoleon, XO, Extra, Hors D'Age\u2014the youngest _eau-de-vie_ is more than six and a half years old.\n\nPretty impressive, eh? Lest you think I'm getting too serious about my career as a spirits journalist, I must confess that I copied the above information verbatim off a placard in a pisser. Not that I'm a complete hack, mind you. I was in Europe on assignment for a prominent international newspaper conglomerate and I had every intention of returning stateside with award-caliber material. Truth is, I was heavily into some serious research on the most celebrated spirit of the region. Earlier that day, Dead Air Dave and I stormed into the Hennessy factory without an appointment, which is really the only way to effectively storm any building. After flashing spurious credentials, we demanded to be given abundant samples of the finest cognac in stock. Amazingly, they complied, as did the people across the street at Otard Cognac. And R\u00e9my Martin. And Hine.\n\n\"What is this stuff here we've been drinking?\" Dave asked, admiring a nearly empty bottle of sweet brown liquid.\n\n\"That, my friend, is the nectar of the gods,\" came the reply.\n\nBilled as the world's rarest cognac, Richard Hennessy is the standard by which to judge all others. Created as a tribute to the founder of Hennessy, some of the cognacs in the blend date back to the early 1800s. The result is elegant, complex, and refined, with a rich bouquet that reveals a succession of aromas that have evolved over time: vanilla, spices, pepper, and delicately scented flowers. Tasting reveals nuances of ripe fruit, the finesse of oak, and other complex flavors. And as if the taste weren't impressive enough, Richard Hennessy is cradled in an exquisitely designed hand-blown crystal decanter from the Cristallerie Royale de Saint Louis. Each bottle is cushioned in a satin-lined nubuck presentation case and includes an informational book containing the individual bottle number and Maurice Hennessy's signature, confirming its authenticity. Of course, the best doesn't come cheap. A bottle retails for $2,500, and a snifter in a restaurant or bar should set you back at least $200.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Dave asked as I transferred the contents of a relatively inexpensive bottle of Otard cognac into the empty Richard Hennessy bottle.\n\n\"I can probably get a thousand bucks easy for this on eBay,\" I told him. 'All I need is some glue to reseal this baby.\"\n\nDave eyed me skeptically. \"It doesn't seem right, man.\"\n\n\"Neither does reality television, but it's apparently here to stay,\" I shot back.\n\nAnd I've got an appropriate appellation for the ersatz Richard Hennessy, something the dupe I sell it to will likely utter after he realizes he's been had: U.S.O.B.\n\n**Omaha Beach, Normandy, France. 5:30 P.M., Saturday.**\n\nWell over half a century ago, Allied troops stormed the beaches of Northern France and emerged victorious in what proved to be a series of the most devastating battles in the history of modern warfare. Many Allied soldiers gave their lives on those beaches to defeat Hitler's Nazis, making it possible in this new millennium for me to roam freely across the rolling green hills and immense sand bunkers of Normandy with my fellow man\u2014in this case, Dead Air Dave\u2014and to joyously proclaim, \"Man, I just hit the shit out of that five-iron!\"\n\nYes, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that nothing is sacred, some scum-sucking greedhead greased the corrupt local zoning board a few years back and got permission to build a golf course just a chip shot away from the site of the most historic battles of World War II. Remember the gruesome depiction of the D-Day invasion at the outset of Steven Spielberg's epic _Saving Private Ryan?_ Turned your stomach, didn't it? Now think about all those young GIs paying the ultimate price in blood so that rich white guys could desecrate the ground with putters and sand wedges. You can't miss it if you try. The road to the American Cemetery at Normandy is littered with billboards exhorting visitors to \"Golf Omaha Beach.\" When I first saw one, it was damn near all I could take. And my initial disgust gave way to all-out fury when I learned that golf carts weren't included in the exorbitant greens fees.\n\nNow believe me, by no means am I trying to belittle the sacrifice my grandparents' generation made at Normandy, but when it comes to golf, it's all about impressing other people with the courses you've played. You think guys fork over four hundred and fifty dollars to play Pebble Beach because they enjoy duffing balls into the ocean? Of course not. They pay to play there so that for the rest of their lives they can tell less fortunate hackers that they played the most picturesque course in America. And tell me, how many golfers _you_ know have played Omaha Beach?\n\nI rest my case.\n\n**Arromonche, a Few Miles North of Omaha Beach. Later the Same Day.**\n\nWe found ourselves tipping a few beers with a group of American World War II veterans making their first visit to Normandy since the D-Day invasion. Rather than being somber and forlorn, as you might expect, these guys were quite ebullient: seems time really does heal all wounds.\n\n\"This place is beautiful,\" said a man with a big, furry white mustache, \"although I don't remember it being that way back then.\" His remark was met with a chorus of \"hear, hear\" and the clink of toasting beer mugs.\n\n\"Hard to believe what went on down on those beaches,\" added another.\n\n\"Hear, hear!!!\"\n\n\"It's a damn miracle we all made it out alive,\" said yet another.\n\nMore hear, hears and mug-clinking.\n\n\"Yep, a goddamn miracle.\"\n\nEmphatic hear-hearing and clinking.\n\n\"I remember being dug in near the water with bullets whizzing overhead thinking I was going to be stuck in that bunker forever,\" added the man with the furry mustache.\n\n\"Tell me about it,\" I mumbled with disgust.\n\nSilence.\n\nThen greater silence.\n\nFollowed by absolutely no sound whatsoever.\n\n\"Well,\" I finally chortled nervously, \"I got caught in a bunker on the eighth at Omaha Beach and wound up making triple-bogey on the hole. And you guys thought _you_ had it tough out there!\"*\n\n**Piccadilly Circus, London. Very Late, Friday.**\n\nSo as you can see, it was truly a tumultuous ride across the European continent. After several rounds of drink\u2014on Yours Truly, of course\u2014the old American GIs at Arromonche forgave me, chalking my seeming disrespect up to innocent precociousness. But it was really my usual nervous reaction to something actually significant. Sometimes we use humor to deal with what we can't understand, and sometimes we use it to deal with things that we understand perfectly damn well.*\n\nBy midnight at Arromonche, I knew all the words to \"The Battle Hymn of the Republic\" and was made an honorary member of the 58th Armored Division. From Normandy, Dead Air and I headed north and spent several uneventful yet extremely relaxing days at the beachfront hamlet of Etretat as guests of the Benedictine company. We crossed the English Channel in the Mini via the Eurotunnel (take _that,_ Air France!) and arrived in London in time to catch one of my all-time-favorite musical heroes, Mick Jones of the Clash, walking a little dog across Trafalgar Square.\n\nShould I stay or should I go?\n\nGo, I suppose.\n\nSo it was back to the States for a respite, then off to the jungles of Malaysia to cover some adventure race sponsored by Tiger Beer. Maybe I'd whip up a multi-part series for the paper on the heels of that great passage, assuming snakes, orangutans, or the indigenes didn't do me in. Until we meet again, Europe, I noted, keep reaching for the ground.\n\n_____________\n\n* Bernard, who died of renal failure in 1997, was immortalized in Keith Waterhouse's hit West End play, _Jeffrey Bernard Is Unwell,_ starring Peter O'Toole. The play's title refers to the one-line apology the _Spectator_ would publish whenever Bernard was either too drunk or hungover to produce his regular column.\n\n* _The Ginger Man_ is the twisted tale of a wretched drunkard, and should be required reading for all junior high school students, moralists, and rock singers. It's worth reading for the sheep's-head scene alone, which everybody who ever spent $32.50 for a slice of foie gras ought to revisit to get their priorities straight.\n\n* Motto: \"We love to fly... and our planes smell like armpits!\"\n\n* Travel Tip #102: When traveling great distances, style should always take a backseat to comfort.\n\n* Dead Air Dave hails from his mother's womb. He has been a radio-industry professional for more than twenty-five years, but really stays in the business only to meet chicks who would otherwise not give him a second glance. He is the author of the not-likely-to-be-published book, _How to Turn Spite into a Cottage Industry._ Dave continues to struggle with his arrested development at his home in Arizona.\n\n* Kronenbourg is the leading beer brand in France, which is sort of like being the valedictorian at summer school.\n\n* An after-dinner drink.\n\n* A before-dinner drink.\n\n* Insert rimshot here.\n\n* Told you I was reading a lot.\n\n# Step 3\n\n# Whisky: Proudly Destroying Livers Since 1088\n\nAs you might have guessed, some of this chapter will have something to do with \"whisky,\" as it's spelled in Scotland, along with \"whiskey,\" the stuff they produce pretty much everywhere else. Do the Scots have \"E-ness envy?\" We'll evaluate. But before we get to that I'd like to introduce you to my roommate in Los Angeles, who'll be playing the role of antagonist in this tome. He has a real name, but for as long as I've known him* I've been calling him \"Bottomfeeder,\" after a song by my friend Steve Skinner. And, for the record, Bottomfeeder isn't sure this book of mine is such a good idea. Of course, he's never been much of a fan of the written word\u2014mine or anyone else's.\n\n\"All of us learn to write in the second grade,\" he told me. \"Most of us go on to greater things.\"\n\n\"Interesting point,\" I replied. \"Who said that?\"\n\n\"I did,\" he said. \"Quote me.\"*\n\nThen he polished off another of my **Grolschs,** lit up a Pall Mall he'd shoplifted from a convenience store, and began frantically searching for the TV remote as though there was a cigarette fire in the couch cushions. It was 7:30 A.M. Good news: nearly his bedtime.\n\n#   The Lager-er's New Clothes\n\nIn 2005, the venerable Dutch beer maker Grolsch unveiled new packaging and introduced an amber ale to complement the Premium Lager they've been brewing for nearly four hundred years. \"The redesign of the packaging is more attractive and contemporary, which will appeal to both our current Grolsch drinkers and attract new consumers,\" said Peter Gyimesi, a guy Grolsch pays handsomely to say such rose-colored things.\n\nLike its predecessor, the new Grolsch bottle is green, though a slightly different shade, which Gyimesi assuredly describes as \"eye-catching.\" I guess he's right, since I recently caught sight of a six-pack in my fridge next to a Ziploc bag full of some nasty-looking brown stuff I prayed was leftover meatloaf (the lesson here: never walk your dog while intoxicated). The new logo isn't all that different from the old one, although I guess you could say it's a bit more \"todayish\" than it was yesterday. (Take that, Gyimesi!)\n\nBottomfeeder is my landlord's nephew and he lives on my sofa. Not just sleeps there, _lives_ there. Rent-free. Like a homeless guy on a park bench, except with access to my fridge and beer and cable TV. Why? Well, due to a complex legal settlement\u2014struck shortly after a cooking experiment gone wrong resulted in a large, ridiculously destructive grease fire in my building\u2014well, I can't get into exactly _why_ he lives on my sofa. I _can_ tell you that Bottomfeeder is unemployed, out of shape, quite possibly in need of some sort of intervention, _and_ spends nearly all of his non-supine time figuring out creative ways to grow facial hair.\n\nHe has several equally degenerate friends, and collectively they refer to themselves as the UBC: the Unacceptable Behavior Club.\n\nThey'll start up in a bar: \"Hey, are YOU-BEE-SEE?\" I always wonder if they know that it could be taken as \"Are you Before Christ?\" But crossing them in bars is a good way to get a quick head-butting lesson, so I keep my comments to myself.* None of them have jobs either. They're also, perhaps because of the head-butting, very loud talkers. And they're always at my apartment, like somebody dropped off an obstreperous group of agitated Doberman pinschers.\n\n\"Am I the only guy in the world who misses the bottom part of the screen?\" the Bottomfeeder is shouting as I labor to complete this chapter.\n\n\"What the hell are you talking about, man?\"\n\n\"The bottom of the screen. THE BOTTOM OF THE FUCKING TV SCREEN!\" he shouts, skittering through the channels for emphasis. \"CNN, MSNBC, ESPN\u2014they all got messages and numbers and reports and stuff constantly streaming across the bottom of the screen, blocking the view. Who cares about information? Most of it don't mean nuthin'! The newsbabe has a great rack and I'm getting stock quotes?! The best stuff on TV is actually happening at the bottom of the screen! AND WE'RE ALL MISSING IT!!!\"\n\nSee what I'm up against? The only reason I've not yet defenestrated Bottomfeeder is that there exists the potential to make a lot of money off his life. You see, despite his fantastic array of shortcomings, I have no doubt that Bottomfeeder will someday be famous\u2014perhaps even before this book is finished.* I know a few famous people, and they're very much like him. Perhaps his fame will come as a new kind of streetwise philosopher, or a circus act,* or as the host of one of those cable shows aimed at misogynistic, beer-swilling louts\u2014sort of _Blue Collar TV_ meets _The Gong Show._ We'll call it _Who Wants To Marry Exotic Facial Hair?_ Hell, with any luck at all he could be the Gen-X Bukowski. They say the best way to write a great novel is to live a great novel, so maybe Bottomfeeder's on the way to creating a nice psycho-thriller.\n\nFailing all that, it's still fairly likely that Bottomfeeder will enter the public consciousness en masse in a \"News of the Weird\"\/ _Weekly World News_ cover story sort of way. And when that happens, I'll be ready, with family photos and signed release forms and free-clinic admission records... because I've got the film, TV, and newsprint rights to his life. That's right\u2014only cost me five hundred dollars, too. Due to a burst of insane optimism triggered by a dream involving the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders, Bottomfeeder made some poor gambling decisions, then desperately needed to pay off an irate bookie. And I needed... well, _something._ He refused to move out in exchange for the dough, so we settled on a more creative, if somewhat long-term, option.\n\nI bought his story.\n\nWe whipped up a common-law contract modeled after that warning they give during Major League Baseball games, so I have rights to \"descriptions, photos, and accounts\" of his life. I immediately mailed the originals to a trusted family member who agreed to keep the document tucked under his bar.\n\nAnd now I wait, like a literary vulture. Even my friends think it's a bit strange, but someday this sort of thing is bound to become common. Just watch: in five years the producers of shows like _Before They Were Rock Stars_ will be running around the world signing buy-it-forward deals with every twelve-year-old with a guitar and inferior playground skills. And MTV will own the first-time serial rights to one in three inner-city kindergarten students. Or not. I'm not saying this is a sure thing. But, come to think of it, I'm cashing in already\u2014because Bottomfeeder is already book fodder, and there's nothing he can do about it, even on the off chance that somebody reads this to him.\n\nThe other night on the evening news, the babe with the great rack led with a piece on rising consumer confidence, and hot damn if I wasn't surprised they had the manpower to devote to that juicy scoop, given the LIVE TEAM COVERAGE of a fuckin' fluffy white flurry they're calling a snowstorm! Shopping and inclement weather are big news, folks... war, genocide, natural disasters, and criminal abuse of power at the highest levels of government are just filler until Sports comes on. Bah! It's enough to drive someone to drink, I tell ya\u2014and in this case, I was driven yet again to Jameson Irish Whiskey.\n\nThe Irish are no strangers to misery\u2014witness the Great Potato Famine and Sinead O'Connor's last three albums, for instance\u2014but they sure have developed an effective method of coping with it. John Jameson began producing his signature whiskey in Dublin way back in 1780, and for the past 227 years his people have been drowning their considerable sorrows in its toasted woody goodness. But in recent years, Jameson has become quite fashionable worldwide at the trendy watering holes of the breezy beau monde, where it's not uncommon to see happy hipsters shooting it straight or enjoying it in a gimlet or sour. In places that cater to a more proletarian clientele, you'll often find Jameson being used as one of the three ingredients in that most leg-wobbling of grog-shop concoctions, the **Car Bomb.**\n\n#   Bomb's away!\n\nAs many of the more intrepid pub crawlers out there are no doubt aware, the increasingly popular Car Bomb is a pretty simple conceit: combine an ounce each of Baileys Original Irish Cream and Jameson in a shot glass, drop the shot into half a pint of Guinness, and chug it down. Gathering solid information about the origin of the drink, on the other hand, proved to be quite a challenge. None of the usually reliable mixologists I contacted had any idea where the Car Bomb originated, but a few were quite sure I needed to settle some rather large bar tabs. I put in a call to a representative from Diageo (parent company of Guinness and Baileys) who wouldn't fess up, claiming only that the Car Bomb is an affront to the company's high-minded advisory to \"drink responsibly.\" Yeah, whatever!\n\nA cry for help sent out to members of my Imbiber column's \"Preferred Readers Club\" didn't shed much light on the history of the Car Bomb either, but several replies spoke volumes about the drink's potency. \"The ingredients in a Car Bomb are best compared to men and relationships,\" wrote Leigh Monk of Philadelphia. \"Separate, they're great, but together they make me want to puke.\"\n\nFrom Brian McCole, also from Philly: \"I'm a happy Irish bartender at an Irish pub. I know I'm serving someone of questionable drinking age when a fresh face comes up to the bar and asks, 'Uh, sir, can I have three Irish Car Bombs?' At which point I immediately become a stern German bartender and demand, 'Your papers, please!'\"\n\nThe final word on the matter came from Alli Joseph in Manhattan: \"Anyone smart enough to know anything about something as obscure as the history of the Car Bomb is smart enough to avoid drinking them.\" Put THAT in your Guinness and chug it!\n\nUnlike Scotch whisky, which is made with malt dried over an open peat fire, the barley used in Jameson is dried in a closed kiln, thus omitting the smoky flavor. The result is a spirit that is smooth, sweet, and spicy, retaining the crispness from the pot-still distillation. There are several varieties of Jameson to choose from, and shot lovers are advised to stick with the classic. Those in the mood for sipping can go with the charming twelve-year old, or really step out and enjoy the Master Selection, aged eighteen to twenty-three years in Spanish sherry casks before finishing in bourbon barrels. However you take it, one thing's for sure: When it comes to Irish whiskey\u2014to borrow a line* from Sinead's last decent record\u2014nothing compares to Jameson.\n\nAmerica's most celebrated whiskey, of course, is bourbon, and the best-selling brand worldwide is Jim Beam. Ten years ago while working at a newspaper in Phoenix I had the pleasure of spending a few hours in the company of Beam's grandson, Booker Noe, who passed away in February 2004. When I met Booker he was nearly seventy years old and carried his considerable weight around with the assistance of a wooden cane, but in all the ways that mattered he was still the same bourbon-swilling Kentucky boy who began learning the family business back in 1950.\n\n\"Our first label was called Old Tub, established in 1882,\" Booker told me. \"My grandfather started that label. That first label had a picture of a black man mashing the bourbon in a tub, so they called it Old Tub.\"\n\nHe continued, \"A lot of the bourbons are named 'old' something. Old Grand Dad. Old Crow. Old Tub. Old Bardstown.\" I wondered aloud why that was, and without missing a beat Booker said: \"Because they're old.\"\n\nIn 1964 Congress declared bourbon a \"distinctive product of the United States.\" Today, 98 percent of all the bourbon in the world is produced within a sixty-mile radius of Bardstown, Kentucky, the home of Jim Beam. The first bourbon labeled Jim Beam appeared after Prohibition.* Beam-made bourbon, however, dates back to 1795, when Jacob Beam sold his first barrel of whiskey. The barrel, it must be noted, is the key to good bourbon. By law, whiskey cannot be labeled bourbon unless it has been aged for a minimum of two years in new white-oak barrels that can be used only once. These barrels define the whiskey, giving it its color and adding considerable complexity to the raw spirit in much the way barrel-aging impacts the character of wine.\n\nBooker told me that the difference between a wine hangover and a bourbon hangover* is that the histamines in wine make mornings after vino much, much worse. \"Ohhh, yes,\" he said. \"I've had these terrible, terrible headaches on that wine when I get too much of it. My wife says it's the histamines, so you got to take those antihistamines.\"\n\nHe spoke of a night when he and the late Carl Beam were tastetesting a batch of two-year-old bourbon that wasn't quite right. \"We were sitting up in Carl's office in this old beat-up wooden distillery,\" Booker reminisced, \"and we drank up all the whiskey that we had there. We were feeling pretty good then, so I says I got to go. I better go on in. But Carl goes over to this cabinet of his and pulls out a half pint, and we finished that off\u2014one for the road, you know, which you can't do no more, by the way.\" When Carl called Booker the next day to see how he was doing, Booker groaned, \"To tell you the damn truth, I got the bust-head.\" The bust-head, he explained, is a hangover of such magnitude your head feels as if it might bust right open. I suspect that's a fairly accurate description of the way many bourbon lovers felt the day ole Booker Noe called it a life and headed up to the Great Whiskey Bar in the Sky.\n\nAs I finished that last sentence Bottomfeeder, who has been lying on the sofa with his hand down his pants,* cranked up the television volume\u2014his passive-aggressive way of letting me know the click-clack of the keyboard is bothering him. There was a report on CNN about researchers in Oregon who have concluded that gay sheep that mate only with other rams have different brain structures from \"straight\" sheep. Upon hearing this news I heaved a sigh of relief and thought, \"Well, that clears _that_ up.\" Now, at long last, I can get back to monitoring the contentious battle between pro-life and pro-choice chickens.\n\n\"We are not trying to explain human sexuality by this study,\" said Charles Roselli, a professor of physiology and pharmacology who supervised the gay-sheep analysis. This, of course, begs the obvious question: What the hell _were_ they trying to explain? Perhaps they were hoping to eradicate anti-homosexual sentiment in the sheep community. Lord knows, rams who are, shall we say, \"light in the hooves\" have suffered long enough. Well, rise up, all you effeminate, four-legged, woolly creatures, and say it loud, say it proud: \"We're here, we're queer... and we're ready to be sheared!\"\n\nI must say that this study has raised a number of \"counting sheep\" issues that, quite frankly, I'm not sure I'm prepared to deal with. Really, if I count gay sheep at night, does that make _me_ gay, or just curious? Aw, hell, I guess I'll count aborted chickens instead. And next up for Oregon researchers: studying the effects of long-term exposure to marijuana in sea lions.\n\n_Now it's time once again to roll back the clock..._\n\nPrior to becoming a world-renowned wine and spirits scribe, I landed a temporary gig writing booze-soaked humor columns for the AOL\/Time Warner conglomerate, and I regret to admit that it didn't prove the choicest job in the world. Shortly after I accepted the position the editor over at Warner Bros. called to let me know that despite her best efforts, and despite the REAL LOVE & AFFECTION everyone over there had for me, she'd been unable to finagle any actual _cash_ from the WB Accounting Department, meaning that for the foreseeable future I would be paid in unwatchable DVDs and stuffed Looney Tunes dolls.\n\nThat's a real pisser, I thought, as I sat stroking my brand-new, nearly life-sized Tweety Bird at my local watering hole, O'Brien's Irish Pub. \"I'M OFFICIALLY FREAKED OUT!!!!\" I told Wes the Bartender. \"I have no money, no high-paying assignments in the pipeline... and my only viable assets are half a bottle of whisky that somebody gave me and seventeen copies of _Summer Catch.\"_ Thank goodness Wes is a Freddie Prinze Jr. fan, or I couldn't even cover the nut for my booze at O'Brien's.\n\nI should \"set the scene,\" as they say: it was 9:30 A.M. on a sunny Tuesday and I was twelve steps into what may have been the most unhealthy breakfast eaten by a human since Hannibal Lecter interned at the L.A. Coroner's Office. My Cranialmobile was running way too hot and hurtling head-on toward a BAD PLACE at the end of a LOST HIGHWAY. And I remind you... it was 9:30 A.M.\n\n\"Christ, man, I can't even afford a decent meal,\" I cried, knocking back yet another stiff shot of Johnnie Walker Blue.*\n\n\"Well,\" Wes corrected me in a voice reserved for calming a first grader who has somehow found the family handgun, \"you can't buy any breakfast you've been familiar with _up until this time.\"_ Wes very carefully topped off my shot glass before continuing. \"See, down on 'The Nickel' (as they call Fifth Avenue, aka Skid Row, in L.A.), you can get a hot coffee for fifty cents... and the line outside the mission is a great place to meet fellow writers who have been at it longer than you. And you could trade some of that hippie whisky you've got for somebody's place in line... or even dole out swigs from the bottle for a dollar each.\"\n\nFor reasons I cannot comprehend, Wes's idea struck me as somewhat palatable, and that\u2014as you can well imagine\u2014disturbed me to no end. Then just when I thought my life's stock price couldn't fall any lower, Wes hit me between the eyes with this zinger: \"Have you tried borrowing money from your mother?\"\n\nI'm a grown man, for chrissakes! I'd sooner smash my nuts with a hammer.\n\n\"Or you could get a part-time job waiting tables,\" he added.\n\nI'd sooner hand my mother a hammer, and have _her_ smash my nuts. Don't get me wrong: waiting tables is an honorable profession practiced by some of the finest people on the planet... it's just that, well, I don't have the PEOPLE SKILLS the job demands. And the only place I'm comfortable uttering the words \"Would you like that well-done, miss?\" is in my bedroom, preferably when speaking to a supermodel\u2014one with an unusual name, like Uniti or Gioa. Or both.\n\n\"Boy, that Freddie Prinze Jr. is a fine actor,\" Wes suddenly gushed, ogling the DVD cover and letting his eyes roam to my freshly poured hootch. \"Can you get me some more of his movies?\"\n\n\"What? Um, yeah, I might be able to get my hands on a bootleg copy of _Wing Commander_... say, Wes, did you ever have to resort to desperate measures to get by when you were down on your luck?\"\n\nA broad smile crept across Wes's face as he rolled back to the lean years of his youth. Either that, or he was still thinking about the amazing screen presence of Freddie Prinze Jr.\n\n\"When we lived in Ventura just after college,\" he waxed, \"our thing was to go buy a dollar Bud at happy hour and then eat at the buffet for, like, an hour.\"\n\nIt was then that I began wondering why in the hell O'Brien's didn't have dollar Buds or a buffet I could plunder\u2014hell, I'd be satisfied with some pretzel mix just like the old days at Cooper Street in Aspen. And it struck me that Wes always spoke of a \"we\" in his anecdotes\u2014who the hell were these people? And how did _they_ escape all this poverty? Were they, perhaps, the source of all this semi-credible \"on the Nickel\" knowledge?\n\n\"No kidding,\" Wes continued. \"In some places they got so they wouldn't serve us. Finally I slimed my way into writing a feature story on the 'happy-hour buffet wars' for the _Ventura County Star_ \u2014it was the _Star-Free Press_ in those days\u2014and made many friends. What you need is a good restaurant review column on that new website. That ought to help matters.\"\n\nI made a mental note to run the restaurant-review idea by my editor at Warner Bros. Then I worked out a contingency plan, that being to stock up on instant oatmeal. I figured that even if they cut off the electric and gas, in a large complex such as mine they couldn't cut off the hot water to only one apartment very easily. There are also hot-water taps at the coffee stations of most 7-11 stores these days, but you have to bring your own cup or they'll charge you an \"inventory\" fee. Or, I reasoned, I could find a sponsor for the Warner Bros. column\u2014perhaps the good people at Johnnie Walker, makers of fine whiskies of the Black and Red and Blue varieties.*I was warming to the idea: tie in a little e-commerce with those red-hot _Summer Catch_ discs on eBay...\n\nInstead, I decided to participate in that great Hollywood ritual: the Day Job.\n\nKeri, the gal at the employment agency, seemed enthusiastic enough\u2014at first. By the end of my Career Connection Meeting, however, she had trouble concealing her serious misgivings about me and\/or my employability. Who could blame her? With the possible exception of being able to string together a few not-quite-witty sentences now and then, I had few viable skills that fit into the modern workplace, which to this day remains starkly devoid of high-paying jobs for experts in sports trivia and shadow puppeteering. As for aptitudes or interests, it was probably a mistake to supply the restraining order, even though it answered those application questions better than I ever could. So, in other words, I was\u2014and, some would argue, continue to be\u2014woefully short on skills for which sober people in their right minds might be willing to pay me actual currency.\n\n\"How would you characterize your phone skills?\" Keri asked, tapping a pencil on her handset for emphasis.\n\n\"I wouldn't,\" I replied, smart enough to know she wouldn't ask a phone-sex question that early in the process. \"At least not in the course of any conversation I'm used to having.\"\n\n\"C'mon,\" she prodded, \"how good are you on the phone?\"\n\n\"Um, well, I've never had any complaints,\" I demurred\/Generally, the phone rings, I answer it, and when the conversation is over, I hang up... pretty standard.\"\n\n\"How many lines do you think you could handle at once?\"she asked.\n\nSounded like a trick question. My roommate, the Bottomfeeder, has often warned me that it's \"common street knowledge\" that employment agents are trained in FBI interrogation techniques. They are taught to carefully poke and prod in the hopes of exposing any gross character deficiencies before they send you off to work at some large corporation with a team of highly paid attorneys.\n\n\"Geez, I dunno, Keri. I've never really... I never... I don't know.\"\n\n\"C'mon, how many lines could you handle? Take a guess.\"\n\nI was getting jittery. I started to sweat. Keri kept tapping the phone with the pencil, and her co-workers began eyeing me suspiciously. I had suspected from the beginning that the Career Connection Meeting was a bad idea, and now my suspicions were coming home to roost. Damn unemployment! And damn mixed metaphors! \"HOW MANY LINES COULD YOU HANDLE?\" Keri demanded. At least I _think_ she demanded to know. My mind plays tricks when the heat is on. And it doesn't help that in such situations I often turn to inappropriate humor.\n\n\"It depends on how many lines I did before I got to work,\" I blurted.\n\nThis, of course, was not the correct answer. Yet it was also not a \"get the hell out before I call the police\"\u2013type answer either, because that era's Employee Glut hadn't yet hit the L.A. temporary-office-employment demographic. It turns out Keri was hard up for flunkies, and I had a capital \"F\" stamped on my forehead.\n\n\"I just got something that might be perfect for you,\" she said, flipping through a stack of job listings.\n\n\"Oh, yeah?\"\n\n\"A Film Buff Convention needs a Corey Haim impersonator.\"\n\n\"A Corey Haim impersonator? But... but I don't look anything like Corey Haim!\"\n\n\"Sure you do: the puppy-dog eyes; the curly brown hair. Um, a mouth. Ears. You're perfect for the job.\"\n\n\"Well, I always have been a fan of _License To Drive,\"_ I found myself saying. Funny how desperation can make us say and do things we'd never consider under normal circumstances. I didn't realize until that moment how much \"seeking work\" could resemble \"picking up dates\" or \"impressing former high school buddies.\" Calls were quickly placed to the right important people, but unfortunately it seemed that Corey Haim was already being impersonated by a former child actor who had just gotten bumped from a gig parking cars in Malibu. I know what you're thinking, but the car-parking company required a full background check, and who needs that?\n\n\"How about audience member?\" Keri asked.\n\n\"Come again?\"\n\n\"Would you be interested in being an audience member?\" she said with a smile.\n\nThat part of my brain in charge of Smart Remarks went into overdrive. A decade of spiritual doubt left my body, because only a universe in the full and constant control of a Divine Being would force a test of my words. What would it be? A witty retort about mingling with the mutants on _The Price Is Right?_ A but-gusting joke about a night in the Peanut Gallery with the Jerry Springer faithful?\n\n\"So,\" I said, \"they actually _pay_ audience members?\"\n\n\"Right,\" she replied. \"Not much: six dollars an hour, plus a snack.\"\n\nAt that, my self-control levee broke.\n\n\"Six bucks? For six bucks I wouldn't watch the show at home in my underwear drinking cold beer, let alone show up at a studio.\"\n\n\"But I haven't told you what the show is...\"\n\n\"Yes, you have,\" I interrupted as I got up out of the chair, wondering if the people moving slowly in the back were about to call the cops. Maybe my voice had suddenly risen to what some would think inappropriate levels. \"You've told me it's a show where they pay people to sit in the audience, and that's plenty.\"\n\nIt felt better on the street in the warm embrace of another unemployed L.A. afternoon. It had been worth the try, and the Abercrombie & Fitch shirt could be worn again despite its small underarm stains. Keri would never call, but so what? Believe it or not,* there remained yet another option: perhaps it was time to try my hand at becoming a screenwriter.\n\nThe first time I phoned, after one of those just-too-long pauses, he \"wasn't in.\" So I left a brief, casual-yet-firm message on Mr. Fong's voice mail. Eight frustrating days and four unreturned calls later, I called again and finally got someone on the line who identified herself as Mr. Fong's assistant.\n\n\"He's not available right now,\" she hissed, her voice dripping with contempt. \"You'll have to leave your number.\"\n\n\"I've left my number too many damn times already,\" I counterhissed, my patience wearing thinner than Kate Moss on a three-month protein diet.\n\n\"I'm sorry, who did you say you were with?\"\n\n\"With? I'm not _with_ anyone, and what difference does it... look, could you please just explain to me WHY Mr. Fong is unfailingly unavailable?\"\n\n\"Mr. Fong is in a meeting.\"\n\nSure, L.A. has its challenges. Homicidal traffic. Corrupt cops. High rent and earthquakes. Hordes of people who dress better than you. It all goes with the town. But nobody should have to take this kind of abuse.\n\n\"Mr. Fong,\" I told his assistant, \"is _always_ in a meeting. Everyone in this damn town is _always_ in a meeting. Tell me\u2014because you seem to be very astute\u2014is anybody in Los Angeles capable of... of... of doing _anything_ without having a meeting about it first?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" she sneered. Click.\n\nHey, did I mention that Mr. Fong was my dry cleaner? Check that: Mr. Fong was my _Hollywood_ dry cleaner. That does not, of course, necessarily mean that he was located in Hollywood, any more than I live \"in\" L.A. (Santa Monica is its own city, now isn't it?) It's a case of attitude outranking geography. But being a Hollywood dry cleaner meant that Mr. Fong took meetings all day long. I'm sure these included important concept-development sessions with the screenwriter who drove the delivery truck, the actress who worked the steam press, and the producer who parked cars at the restaurant across the street\u2014all of whom, incidentally, would likely have ignored my calls as well, had the opportunity presented itself. This pervasive snubbishness stems from the commonly held notion that, at any given moment, one's standing in the Hollywood community can be measured in direct proportion to who you can afford not to call back. It's a brutal food chain\u2014and the only possible reason I often go weeks without calling my mother.\n\n\"The callback is how you let people know what kind of leverage you've got in this town,\" explained my friend and quasi-career counselor Wendy, who had recently been elevated to the rank of junior executive at a cable network. Wendy celebrated her promotion by waiting nearly three days before returning a call to former _Two Close for Comfort_ star Jim J. Bullock. She likened my stints as a rather successful newspaper columnist in Aspen and Phoenix to being a big fish in a little pond.\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, yeah. And now that I'm in L.A., I'm just a little fish in a big pond, right?\" I grumbled, making a mental note to remove the \"fish\" line from the dialogue in my first screenplay, _Fun Things to Do with Mud._\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\"No? Well, what am I then?\"\n\n\"Pond scum. Don't take it personally.\"\n\n_\"Pond scum?\"_\n\n\"Yes,\" she said in a voice reserved for telling twelve-year-olds they hadn't made the team. \"But we're going to change all that. People are going to start calling you back soon enough. Hell, someday they'll even call without you having to call them first.\"\n\nTo that heady end, Wendy took a treatment I had written and passed it on to an agent friend of hers\u2014a real hotshot who had recently started his own agency after several years of grooming at UTA or CAA or ADD or someplace like that. She told me he was going to call me, and that his name was Fisher.\n\n\"What's his first name?\" I asked. \"Or should I just call him Mr. Fisher?\"\n\n\"No, silly. Fisher _is_ his first name.\"\n\nI tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a giggle.\n\n\"What's the matter? Haven't you ever met a guy named Fisher?\"\n\n\"I grew up in a tough neighborhood in Philly,\" I told Wendy. \"Abandoned crack babies have a better survival rate than boys named Fisher. With a name like that, he would have been snowballed to death in preschool.\"\n\n\"You best be nice to Fisher,\" Wendy advised. \"He's big-time. He can really help your career.\"\n\nThere seemed no reason to ask the obvious question: if Fisher was so big-time, what the hell was he doing calling me? Perhaps his doctor told him he wasn't getting enough pond scum in his diet. It didn't matter. The only thing that did matter was that I had finally arrived in Hollywood. Somebody would be calling _me._ And soon. When the call finally came, you can bet I was doubly impressed that it came from Fisher's secretary, who then patched me through to Fisher's cell phone. Apparently, there is a sub-category in this Hollywood Phone Call food chain that has to do with the actual pushing of the buttons and \"where\" you take the call. For instance, anyone talking \"first-look\" deals through a mouthful of McNuggets is likely slipping down the ladder. If, on the other hand, you get someone on the line who asks you to hold on while he adjusts the palm-frond-waving rate of the Nubian boys in his suite at the Peninsula, well, you might be getting somewhere.\n\n\"So a couple of thoughts on your movie idea,\" said Fisher, the sound of rush-hour traffic in the background. \"First off, my friend, you gotta lose the strip club... why not a nice restaurant instead?\"\n\n\"Well,\" I replied, \"I set it in the strip club because...\"\n\n\"JESUS CHRIST, YOU FUCKING MORON!\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"Sorry. Some asshole just cut me off on Melrose,\" Fisher said. \"Look, bottom line, I think we've got something here. Maybe the restaurant won't work. But you've got 'mud' in the title; maybe we can set it in a dry cleaners.'\"\n\n\"A dry cleaners?\"\n\n\"Yeah, my development partner would love it. Great guy named Fong, runs a little joint on the Westside. His delivery guy is a great touch-up script doctor and...\"\n\nA better man would have hung up. Instead I told Fisher that it sure was a small town and I was tight with Fong's secretary, and in fact thought she was a bit _hung up_ on me. I made a mental note to add that \"hung up\" line to the _Mud_ script and listened to him until he lost signal mid-sentence near the 405. When he called back, I let it ring five times before picking it up. Practicing.\n\n\"Practicing what?\" Bottomfeeder asked, peering over my shoulder and causing me to fall out of step on my march down memory lane.\n\n\"Dammit, man,\" I howled, angrily swiveling around in my chair. \"What did I tell you about doing that?\"\n\n\"What? Why? Is this shit expensive?\" he asked, referring to the pricey bottle of Scotch from which he'd just taken a large swig.\n\n\"No! I mean, _yes,_ it _is_ expensive. Really expensive. Particularly for someone like you who doesn't have a goddamn job!\" The remark seemed to sting him, at least momentarily, which would explain the abashed look on his face as he swallowed even more of the whisky. \"But I'm talking about reading over my shoulder. Like I've told you a million times already\u2014it messes me up, dammit!\"\n\n#   A Compendium of the Most Popular of the Brown Spirits\n\n**To \"E\" or Not to \"E\"**\n\nScotland, Canada, and Japan produce \"whisky\"; everyplace else spells it \"whiskey.\" Nobody really knows the definitive reasoning behind the vowel disparity, but there's no doubt it has been a source of great debate over the years in many a heated game of Scrabble.\n\n**Jack and Jim**\n\nNo, it's not the name of a gay sitcom on Bravo\u2014I'm referring to Jack Daniels and Jim Beam, which many people, including a lot of bartenders, erroneously believe to be two different brands of the same whiskey. JD is a Tennessee whiskey. Beam is bourbon. Both are concocted from a mash that is at least 51 percent corn, but in Tennessee they filter the spirit through a special maple charcoal.\n\n**Characteristics**\n\nScotch is smoky, bourbon oaky, and Irish whiskey O'kay.\n\n**Schools of Thought**\n\nThe latest trend is to drink whiskey neat\u2014it's more \"authentic.\" But if you do, a couple drops of chilled branch water can really open up the taste. Kick it old school with a \"Tall Water,\" which is a tall glass of ice water with a single shot of whiskey stirred in.\n\n_\"O-kay,_ but do you think anybody is actually going to _care_ about this dude Fang? He's not even _real,_ is he?\" Bottomfeeder said.\n\n\"It's _Fong,_ and I guess we won't know until the book comes out, will we?\" I shot back. \"Which isn't ever going to happen if you don't learn to respect my boundaries, man. I can't work like this!\"\n\n\"You know, you're right, brutha,\" he said, filling an empty Big Gulp with copious amounts of my **whisky**. \"I do remember promising not to drink directly from the bottle anymore, and I'm sorry.\" Then he swilled another big gulp from the Big Gulp. \"Damn! This is some _serious shit,_ right? Expensive?\"\n\n\"You could say that, yeah,\" I replied. Scapa's 1980 vintage single malt is virtually impossible to find for less than three hundred dollars. They only released two thousand hand-numbered bottles back in '05 after twenty-five years of aging in traditional oak casks, and to my great dismay that limited supply was diminishing before my eyes. Scapa tastes like the best piece of ass you've ever had, if you're strange or adventurous enough to have had whisky-soaked ass.*\n\nBottomfeeder announced that he was going bowling and took the Scapa with him. He wasn't out the door five seconds when I Googled the words \"complete lunatic\" and \"help please\" and came across a story about an American Airlines pilot who had decided to extol the virtues of Christianity and refer to all non-Christians as \"crazy\" during a 2004 flight from Los Angeles to New York. It didn't strike me as a big deal at first. After all, what's the worst thing that could happen when a religious fundamentalist sits at the controls of a large aircraft? But as more and more details were made available about the incident, it became clear to me that a Great Evil was at work on American Flight 34 that day. First off, the pilot, Rodger Findiesen, admitted he'd encouraged Christian passengers to use their time in the air to talk to the infidels... er, the _non-Christian_ travelers, about their faith. Second, the in-flight movie was _My Boss's Daughter._\n\nI ask you, folks, what kind of God would condemn innocent people to spend five hours in a pressurized tube with a bunch of babbling Bible thumpers _and_ Ashton Kutcher? Certainly not the God my parents forced me to believe in! Factor in the five-dollar charge for headphones, and it's pretty obvious that Satan was up to his old tricks again and that those passengers were literally on the Flight from Hell.*\n\nFindiesen, it turned out, was an Evangelical Christian who'd recently returned from doing mission work in Costa Rica. While I don't profess to be completely up to speed on the tenets of Evangelical Christianity, I do know that the breed seems awfully fond of quoting Scripture at ball games and that they tolerate sinners in much the same way the Chinese government recognizes civil liberties. I'm not saying that Findiesen was a bona fide bag of mixed nuts, but we do have to consider what might have transpired if, after he'd asked the Christians to raise their hands thirty minutes into the flight, he hadn't been satisfied with the headcount. Let's not forget the Muslim pilot who praised Allah over the intercom on an Egyptian plane a few years back just before rerouting the jet to a permanent layover at the bottom of the ocean. Findiesen didn't crash Flight 34, but that's not to say that kind of disaster couldn't occur in the future. According to \"Rapture Ready,\" a website devoted to monitoring the imminent return of Christ to Earth so he can reclaim his most devout followers, Christians like Findiesen are due to disappear into thin air any day now.\n\n\"There has never been a time in history when the return of the Lord has been so near,\" the site proclaims. \"We need to hold the things of this world\u2014money, homes, ambitions\u2014with an open hand, ready to drop it all at the beckoning of our Lord.\"\n\nWhat if the Lord were to beckon while Findiesen was flying another 747 over the Rockies? The heathens on board had better _pray_ the copilot had been taking the Lord's name in vain or, better yet, fondling a stewardess in the Admiral's Lounge before takeoff. And will any professional sports franchises besides the Portland Trailblazers and the Cincinnati Bengals be able to field a team after the Rapture? Like me, your head's probably filled with all sorts of questions like these right now. Fortunately, \"Rapture Ready\" offers plenty of answers in a convenient FAQ.\n\nThe site clears up various mysteries: about whether angels are real (\"Absolutely!\"), the Antichrist is Jewish (yes, \"because the Jews will not receive a Gentile as their promised Messiah\"), and AIDS is a judgment from God (yes, if contracted while engaged in \"sexual relations outside of marriage, homosexual activity, and drug use\"; no for those \"who have contracted HIV through no fault of their own\"). Worried about those New Age Hippies from California who just moved in next door? You should be, Christian Soldier, because \"New Agers focus much energy on world peace, environmental pursuits and disarmament... New Age thinking has subtly infiltrated every part of life in this country. Yoga, meditation, self-discovery, inner being... these are all terms that are closely associated with the New Age movement. So, beware! The devil wants to deceive you and this movement is one of his very effective tools!\"\n\nI couldn't find anything in the FAQ about what to do should the pilot of your cross-country flight begin speaking in tongues over the intercom, or what can be done to stop all the fucking nutcases with websites on the Internet, but I was thrilled to learn that masturbation \"would appear to be a common function of sexuality\" and thus is permissible, so long as I'm not thinking about my neighbor's wife while I do it. Ha! My neighbor doesn't have a wife\u2014he's gay! Then again, if this gay-marriage thing sticks and he and his partner get hitched and I happen to see the boys sunning out in the garden and... first the sheep counting, and now this. Oh, Christ, I'm damned.\n\nBeing an in-demand member of the international drinking press, I'm used to writing about liquor from inside pressurized metal tubes thirty-five thousand feet up in the air. And while I've not experienced anything quite so peculiarly frightening as the Findiesen flare-up, I've had more than a few funky experiences aboard airplanes\u2014for instance, the time I wound up on a cross-country flight sitting next to an inquisitive and highly flatulent eight-year-old. Little Lance was on his way to New York from Los Angeles to visit his grandmother. I was headed there to hang out with movie stars and get drunk at the Tribeca Film Festival.* One time after he passed wind, Lance politely excused himself and began giggling uncontrollably. Moments later and for no apparent reason, he reached up, pushed the flight-attendant call button, and turned off my air vent while explaining that it was the longest flight he'd ever been on by himself. It started to feel that way for me, too.\n\n\"What's that you're drinking?\" he asked, pointing to a half-empty bottle of the Glenrothes Select Reserve on my tray table.\n\n\"It's called whisky,\" I said. \"Do you know what that is?\"\n\nHe shook his head no, and then in one prodigious slurp polished off an entire juice box.\n\n\"Why do you need such a big bottle?\" he asked.\n\n\"I'm a big guy,\" I told him.\n\n\"It smells.\"\n\n\"Yeah, well, so do you.\"\n\nThis set Lance to giggling again. I was pretty happy too, actually, because the Glenrothes Select Reserve is a real treat. It's a Speyside whisky, and if you don't know what that means, well, fire up Google cuz you've got a lot of catching up to do. Until 2006, The Glenrothes produced only vintage single malts that cost beaucoup bucks. Select Reserve is a blend of casks from an assortment of vintages and is as affordable ($45 per 750 ml bottle) as it is tasty. Fruity and smooth, Select Reserve is certainly one of the mildest, easiest-drinking whiskies I've sampled in some time.\n\nAs for little Lance, he spent most of the rest of the flight sleeping\u2014that is, until just before landing, when I caught whiff of something and spied him curled up on his seat with a guilty look on his face. An attractive woman seated across the aisle crinkled her nose and shot me a look of disgust. Thanks a LOT, kid!\n\n_____________\n\n* We were \"introduced\" shortly before I went on the big European junket you just read about.\n\n* Hall of Fame basketball coach Bobby Knight said it first.\n\n* Nightlife Tip #107: Head-butting is grounds for ejection in most reputable establishments. So is administering an Atomic Wedgie, the ins and outs of which will be examined in detail in my next book, _Instant Asshole... Just Add Alcohol._\n\n* This is what's known as \"foreshadowing.\"\n\n* He can fart the theme songs to several popular TV shows.\n\n*... which she borrowed from Prince.\n\n* From 1920 to 1933, the Eighteenth Amendment made it illegal to manufacture, buy, sell, or transport liquor in the United States. It was thus a really shitty time to be a booze writer.\n\n* The phrase \"the hair of the dog that bit you\" is widely believed to stem from an ancient Scottish superstition that called for treating dog bite wounds with actual hair from the offending mutts to stave off infection.\n\n* The reason men put their hands down their pants while they're watching TV isn't that we're itchy, it's so that the penis and the hand can spend a little, you know, quality non-sex time\n\n* Easily the world's most luxurious blended whisky, each individually numbered bottle of JW Blue retails for approximately $210 (with a limited-edition cask-strength version also available for, ahem, $3,500 per bottle), and with good reason: as any serious Scotch drinker or pro palate will attest, Blue is a masterpiece of malt mixology. The closely guarded secret recipe includes some of the rarest whiskies in the world\u2014including at least one, and perhaps several, aged more than half a century. The finished product is huskier than Kathleen Turner's voice, with the voluptuous body to match (Turner's circa 1985, that is). Each sip delivers a deluge of flavors dominated by sweet spice and honey, complemented by not-so-subtle hints of tobacco and toffee. The smoky finish lingers like something that just doesn't want to go away, and is far more impressive than, say, random celebrity references and analogies.\n\n* I reiterate, people, that this is a serious blend that is not to be trifled with, and it is highly recommended that even seasoned whisky drinkers cut JW Blue with a wee bit of ice water. If you desire to affect a Rat Pack mystique or are simply the sort who insists on tossing every spirit into a cocktail, your best bet is a Manhattan made with two parts Johnnie Blue and one part dry vermouth. And while it's not my concoction of choice, I've got a drinking buddy with impeccable taste who swears by Rob Roys made with Blue, sweet vermouth, and a dash of Angostura bitters.\n\n* The best bet is to not believe it.\n\n* On the lighter and sweeter side is a delightful sixteen-year-old single malt from Balblair, Scotland's second-oldest distillery. This award-winning label ($49.99) is eminently drinkable, and makes an excellent gateway to huskier whiskies such as Lagavulin. In short, Balblair kicks butt. The Famous Grouse offers a blended whisky ($34.99) comprised of twelve-year-old single malts from the likes of Highland Park and the Macallan, which\u2014not so coincidentally\u2014fall under the same ownership umbrella. The Grouse is the mellowest and most citrusy of the bunch\u2014the kind of whisky you drink on the rocks when you just wanna chill out.\n\n* This got me thinking about a drink I concocted to numb my senses on a flight to Borneo in which I was sandwiched between a hyperactive personal-injury lawyer and a deodorant-deficient colporteur. The Devil in the Sky is a fiery fix-ya-up that's sure to singe any traveler's frazzled nerve endings. You'll need airplane bottles of Absolut Peppar and Everclear 190, Tabasco sauce, and salt (ingredients available on most Air Lush connections). Put six drops of Tabasco in the bottom of a shot glass, add equal parts Peppar and Everclear, then top with salt. Discreetly set on fire with the lighter you smuggled on board, serve, and pray there are no air marshals on the plane.\n\n* The list of scheduled attendees\u2014stamped with a big fat \"A\"\u2014included Tom Cruise, John Travolta, Robert DeNiro, James Gandolfini, Naomi Watts, Matt Dillon, Kurt Russell, Trudy Styler, John Malkovich, Brendan Fraser, Peter Krause, Jeff Goldblum, Jeff Garlin, and Sarah Silverman, to name a few (fourteen, actually).\n\n# Step 4\n\n# The Tequila Sunrise Also Rises (Provided You Drink Too Many)\n\nI was a good half hour into _Alan Thicke's Pool Guy: The E! True Hollywood Story_ when it dawned on me that the boundaries of celebrity have been stretched beyond what a sane person might consider reasonable limits. Of course, reason and sanity have no place in the twenty-first-century cult of personality, where fame can be achieved by virtually anyone who possesses nothing more than a willingness to embarrass themselves on television. That cruel fact reminded me that I needed to call my agent to check on a TV series project that\u2014unbeknownst to my bosses at the newspaper\u2014I'd been developing on the side.\n\n\"We're definitely getting some nibbles,\" Fisher chirped over a godawful racket that sounded like nothing so much as a sty full of piglets being set ablaze.\n\n\"Where are you, man?\" I queried.\n\n\"On the set of a new music video for Vanessa Minnillo* and Nick Lachey. Don't they sound amazing?\"\n\n\"Are you representing them?\"\n\n\"Well, sort of,\" Fisher fudged. \"I'm shepherding a project Manny developed.\"\n\n\"Who's _Manny?\"_\n\n\"Nick's personal trainer's assistant. The kid's got 'star' written all over him.\"\n\nA good quip regarding the need for an eraser immediately came to mind, and I made a note to add it to the treatment for my latest sitcom idea, _Up the River, Down the River,_ about an escaped convict who flees to South America and winds up living with a family of Yanomam\u00f6 Indians along the banks of the Amazon. And yes, it _is_ as funny as it sounds.\n\n\"The guys over at Fox like the convict element,\" Fisher said, \"but they think you should take the guy out of the Amazon and instead make him a disgraced female Democratic vice-presidential candidate who winds up running a brothel full of wacky prostitutes in New Orleans. They're talking to Polly Holliday's people about the lead.\"\n\n\"A disgraced Democratic vice-presidential candidate? Polly Holliday? What the hell are you talking about?\"\n\n\"Yeah, you know, Flo'from _Alice._ Remember?\" he enthused. \"Kiss mah grits!\"\n\n\"Kiss mah grits?\"\n\n\"Oh, man, was that a great catchphrase or what?\" he said. \"Anyhoo, assuming you're cool with those minor alterations, the network might be interested in looking at a pilot provided you write it on spec and agree to change the name of the show.\"\n\n\"The name?\"\n\n\"That's right, they want to call it _Polly's Pros.\"_ Pretty catchy, eh?\"\n\nI stared at the television for a long while, saying nothing while Fisher repeatedly asked if I was still on the line. Finally, having at least partially digested the load of shit he'd just fed me, I uttered the first thought that came to mind:\n\n\"You know what I think, Fisher? I think I'd like to knit the world a giant sweater using the thread that comes with every purchase at Banana Republic.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh,\" he muttered uneasily, his usual reaction whenever I tossed these sorts of curveballs in his direction.\n\n\"I've got, literally, hundreds of those tiny spools of thread, which speaks volumes about my personal fashion sense,\" I continued. \"Truth be told, I'm an Urban Outfitters\u2013type personality, but those tight retro tees and hip-hugging low-riders simply do not flatter my ever-expanding love handles and man boobs.\"\n\nFisher drew a deep breath. \"Right. So I'll go back to the network and let 'em know we're on board with _Polly's Pros?\"_\n\n\"Alan Thicke's pool guy has a hot wife,\" I replied.\n\n\"Okay then, great,\" he bubbled. \"I'm really feeling an Emmy nomination down the line for this one, Double-D. I've already got Manny working on a way-cool theme song.\"\n\n\"Fisher?\"\n\n\"Yeah, buddy?\"\n\n\"Kiss mah grits.\"\n\nDays later I completed a draft of a pilot script for the _Polly's Pros_ sitcom, and boy, I gotta tell ya, it was beyond doubt the steamiest piece of dung I've ever penned. And those of you who've been paying attention these last few chapters know that that's really saying something. The network, of course, loved it.\n\nHere's the skinny on the show: A disgraced former Democratic vice-presidential candidate, played by Polly Holliday, winds up running a brothel full of wacky prostitutes in New Orleans. In the first episode, Polly finds herself up to her neck in blue-balled customers and broke-ass hos after a strike at the Trojan condom factory threatens to shut down her operation. But then one of the working girls comes up with a plan to save the whorehouse that involves getting everyone so drunk that they don't care about using rubbers anymore.\n\nGenius, I thought, as I typed \"The End,\" given that I had zero interest in actually seeing _Polly's Pros_ become a reality. I was certain that once the execs over at Fox had a look at the script's first two or three pages they'd scrap the whole damn project, then have me tossed off the lot. This would free me up to go elsewhere to pitch my original idea for _Up the River, Down the River._ Instead, the clowns at Fox bought the _Polly's Pros_ pilot and immediately arranged a brainstorming meeting for me with an effeminate junior development exec named Barry. I brought Fisher along to run interference once things invariably got out of hand.\n\n\"LOVE the part about the girl who comes up with the idea to save Polly's Place,\" Barry gushed. \"Who do you envision playing that role?\"\n\n\"Nobody, to be honest,\" I said bitterly. \"In fact, I can't believe that you guys even\u2014\"\n\n\"Even have to ask!\" Fisher jumped in. \"That part was made for Tracy Nelson.\"\n\n\"Tracy Nelson? From _Square Pegs?\"_ Barry asked. \"She's a client of yours?\"\n\n\"Well, used to be,\" Fisher replied. \"She fired me when _The Father Dowling Mysteries_ got cancelled. But we're talking again. I think she'd be perfect for this.\"*\n\n\"Isn't she old? Like, fortysomething?\"\n\n\"She plays early twenties, though,\" Fisher fibbed.\n\nI'd had enough already. \"Tracy Nelson can't play a hooker on this show!\" I shouted. \"Who would pay to screw Tracy Nelson?\"\n\n\"We don't ever want to refer to the girls as hookers,\" admonished Barry, who damn sure wouldn't screw Tracy Nelson... the Nelson twins, maybe, as in the late Ricky's* Johnny Winteresque middle-aged sons.\n\n\"But they _are_ hookers,\" I shot back.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"but they're NETWORK TV hookers. They can't have sex or do drugs or behave in any way that is actually hooker-like. That would upset the sponsors.\"\n\n\"It's the same thing with gays,\"* Fisher chimed in as Barry nodded in agreement.\n\nI continued to harp on the inanity of doing a show about hookers in which we'd never allude to the fact that they turn tricks for a living, but Barry would not be swayed. People would tune in because _Polly's Pros_ would be a show about _real_ people, not sex, he claimed. The fact that these _real_ people just happen to work in a brothel is purely incidental. Oh yeah? Tell that to the johns.\n\n\"One last thing\u2014the network has a problem with some of the language in the pilot,\" Barry said.\n\n\"The language? What language?\"\n\n\"Squeeze my tits.\"\n\n\"That's her catchphrase,\" I explained. \"Like 'kiss mah grits,' only with a little more oomph.\"\n\nHis face betrayed no emotion, but I could see at that moment that Barry hated me like a fashion model hates carbohydrates. \"You can't say 'squeeze my tits' on network television,\" he hissed through a forced smile.\n\n_\"Really?\"_ I shot back in an intentionally annoying matter-of-fact manner. \"I didn't think 'tits' were bad.\"\n\n\"Well, they _are_ bad,\" sneered Barry, getting up from his seat to signal the meeting's end. \"But we're sure you'll be able to come up with something else.\"\n\nFigures he'd say that... about the tits, I mean.\n\n\"Maybe I can tweak it a little once I'm back from Mexico,\" I said.\n\nThis stopped Barry in his light loafers. \"Mexico? Why? And for how long?\"\n\n\"A few days,\" Fisher interjected.\n\n\"I'm thinking at least two weeks,\" I countered. \"Possibly a month.\"\n\n\"Do you think that's really _responsible,_ Dan?\" Barry sniveled.\n\n\"I'm sure the people signing my checks at the newspaper would say it is,\" I shot back.\n\n\"Well, just remember what your main priority needs to be here,\" Barry advised.\n\n\"Oh, I'd _never_ forget that.\"\n\nRemember that wonderful scene in _Caddyshack_ in which Chevy Chase seduces a young woman with the aid of a few Tequila Slammers? Chevy snorts salt, swallows lime, tosses tequila. It's serious high comedy, and in more ways than one. You see, as anyone born prior to the 1980 release of _Caddyshack_ probably suspected, there's no \"right\" answer for the which-one-first tequila-shot sequence. Turns out tequila isn't meant to be set up with salt, slammed, or chased with a giant wedge of lime.\n\nA drink called the Bandera, is one of the things travelers to Mexico eventually discover. Granted, it's not up there with the major cultural lessons like avoiding tap water or understanding that those young men in tattered Levi's toting automatic weapons on the street corners are there only to ensure your peace of mind, but it does add some spice to the consumption of Mexico's national adult beverage. Named for the Mexican flag, the Bandera consists of three ingredients, each served separately in tall shot glasses. First up, representing the flag's green stripe, is lime juice. If you can get them\u2014and you usually can, in reputable establishments\u2014go with Persian limes, which are sweeter and yellower than the American variety. In the middle glass goes the tequila. I recommend a good reposado such as Tradicional by Cuervo, although **Don Julio** Silver is quite nice as well. In the final glass goes a red shot of sangrita, which is essentially super-spicy Bloody Mary mix. As for the proper drinking order, there isn't one. It's freestyle. Sip some tequila, then a little lime juice. Or go with tequila, sangrita, lime. Mix, match, have fun. You've graduated, friend. The finer things in life are yours for the drinking.\n\nGranted, there's nothing particularly fancy about the place where I gathered the Bandera information\u2014Nogales, a dusty Mexican shantytown-cum-city* along the Arizona border. In fact, it's what travel professionals might refer to as a complete fucking shithole. Aesthetics aside, Nogales _is_ of great interest to many American citizens in the Southwest, primarily because of the large number of shops there that provide easy access to cheap pharmaceuticals such as Viagra, Cialis, and Levitra.* They also sell plenty of heart medication down there, no doubt because all that chemically assisted sex takes its toll on old geezers' tickers. Since 1994, when the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) was enacted, American businesses\u2014predominantly from the tech sector\u2014have also been making a run for the border, shifting their manufacturing operations to maquiladoras.* Eighteen-year-old kids from Arizona go there on the weekends because they can legally drink. So do I, because I like getting bombed with teenagers-cum-young adults.*... You know, purely as a means of predicting future trends in the spirits industry.\n\n#   A Time Out for Tequila\n\nOf all the momentous events of 1942, among them the premiere of _Casablanca_ and the births of Cassius Clay, Paul McCartney, and Manolo Blahnik, perhaps nothing ranks as more historically consequential than the founding of a tequila distillery in Los Altos, Mexico, by a seventeen-year-old named Don Julio Gonz\u00e1lez... at least, that's the consensus among hard-core tequila drinkers, and really, does anyone else matter? Today, Don Julio is the luxury brand of choice for many a sophisticated tippler, but back in the '40s, when tequila was known as \"mescal wine,\" it wasn't exactly the sort of spirit being served in the haunts of the haut monde. Young Se\u00f1or Gonz\u00e1lez helped change that by producing tequila made only from prime sweet blue agave grown in a near-perfect microclimate around his hometown of Atotonilco el Alto.\n\nA few years ago, in commemoration of Don Julio's sixtieth anniversary of making tequila, the company introduced Tequila Don Julio 1942 ($125). This brilliant a\u00f1ejo is the color of a Hawaiian sunrise and tastes like dulce de leche spread on an apple wedge. There's some spice to it as well, but it balances the sweetness rather than overwhelms it. The 1942 is aged at least two and a half years in American white-oak barrels, and made with the company's most exclusive distillate. This goes without saying in good company, but I'll say it anyway as there may be cretins among us\u2014Don Julio 1942 should never be polluted with margarita mix, nor is it to be slammed down the gullet frat-boy style. This is primo stuff best served in a snifter and enjoyed one delectable sip at a time. 1942 is a tequila sixty-plus years in the making; it deserves a few moments of your time.\n\nI'm hoi polloi to the core, so I spent the bulk of my time in Mexico talking to \"real\" Mexicans in hopes of discovering the \"real\" best way to enjoy tequila. Really, I did. For real. My Spanish is limited to asking directions to the toilet and ordering shitty beer, so it took a great deal of effort to discover that there's more to tequila than meets the margarita. Eventually, with the help of a most affable and adorable translator, I procured what I was after from a local bartender who attested that real Mexicans love the Vampiro, a combination of tequila, lime juice or Squirt soda, and sangrita. He even mixed one up for me, which I found to be _muy excelente_... especially if you want to keep it real.\n\n\"Eez a reeel frog, man,\" the Mexican shop owner volunteered as I surveyed the contents of a makeshift display case. On a trip in which I'd encountered more than a few twisted items, the shellacked, conga-playing dead frog was by far the most peculiar. So I bought it... for eight dollars.\n\n\"You should've bought the whole band,\" Bottomfeeder said later at the bar La Cava, a squalid watering hole in Nogales and the nerve center for my Bandera-Vampiro research. He was referring to the saxophone-, bass-, and drum-playing shellacked dead frogs the shop also offered for sale. Without a lead singer, though, I figured it was pointless. Tossing back a stiff shot of tequila, I told Bottomfeeder as much.\n\n\"Fuckin' singers,\" he mumbled. Then he swallowed each color of the flag in rapid succession. I noted, for the record, that he looked oddly at home in Mexico. And he didn't seem at home in many places. But somewhere in the fifteenth hour of the drive from Santa Monica, I'd decided the entire road trip would be the stuff of a highly investigative junket that could be legitimately expensed to my employer. So, for the record, let me note that subsequent research revealed that in her compelling tome _The Complete Frog: A Guide for the Very Young Naturalist,_ Elizabeth Lacey wrote that \"Because frogs are so delicious to so many efficient hunters, it is not surprising to learn that their lives are seldom very long.\" Nowhere in her book, however, did she mention the number of frogs whose lives are cut short only to become freak collectibles.\n\nI suppose that Elizabeth Lacey never hauled her ass down to Nogales. If she had, she would have discovered that mutilated frogs are by no means the only bizarre goods for sale in the dusty Mexican border town. In fact, it's safe to say that just about everything and everybody in Nogales is for sale, including goodies such as bathroomtiled night tables, authentic Mexican ponchos embroidered with\u2014what else?\u2014NFL logos, wood-carved field mice, and the town's best-selling item, uncut vanilla. What I'm ever going to do with a five-gallon drum of vanilla I have no idea. But I've got one simply because I was able to haggle the price down to twenty dollars, which is what a trip to Nogales is all about: the exhilaration of haggling for worthless goods and services you'd otherwise never dream of owning. In Nogales, haggling is the quintessential form of social contact and can earn the most diligent shoppers either the utmost respect or the utter disdain of the people they deal with. More important, haggling affords you the opportunity to say things like, \"How much for that seven-foot-tall, wood-carved Blessed Mother?\"\n\n\"Seekstee-five dollars?\"\n\n\"I'll give you twenty.\"\n\n\"Forty-five.\"\n\n\"Twenty-five.\"\n\n\"Thirty.\"\n\n\"Hah! I'll take it.\" It was as if I'd stolen the perfect Christmas gift for my mother right out from under that shady son-of-a-bitch's nose. It was only later that I realized that all I'd come away with was a rather grotesque and inordinately heavy religious bauble that would almost certainly spell the end of my mother\/son relationship if I ever chose to ship it back home to Philadelphia. And it was no easy task, mind you, negotiating the crowded streets of Nogales saddled with a shellacked, conga-playing dead frog; a five-gallon drum of pure, uncut vanilla; a seven-foot, wood-carved Blessed Mother; and Bottomfeeder, who'd thrown back one too many shots of tequila. I enlisted the help of a young Mexican boy so slight that his baseball cap seemed to weigh him down. But he was eager and shamefully poor, so I let him carry the frog, a sympathetic gesture I thought might give me a needed karma boost somewhere down the line.\n\n\"That's all?\" he cried incredulously as I handed him a five-dollar bill, which, in my estimation, was more than ample payment for carrying a dead frog a mere two blocks. \"Gringo taca\u00f1o!\" he yelled before dropping the frog, kicking me in the shin, and taking off with my money, vanishing instantly into the crowded street.\n\nBottomfeeder shrugged, then motioned toward a decrepit old donkey inexplicably covered with black paint splotches: a most unusual photo opportunity, to say the least. \"You need a picture with the painted burro,\" he declared. \"It'll help you capture the true Mexican flavor.\" I was already convinced that vanilla was the true Mexican flavor, but running agonizingly low on culturally enhancing options, I gingerly climbed aboard the old burro\u2014Hector was his name\u2014ridiculously attired in a sombrero and multi-colored serape. Sitting astride Hector, posing for a Polaroid, I finally understood why, despite Bottomfeeder's objections, I'd taken a detour through Nogales. First off, it was par for our journey, which had evolved into one big detour that included stopovers in Tombstone, Oklahoma City, and New Orleans. But at that particular moment it felt right because I was a footloose American in a Mexican den of depravity, and I'd come, I'd seen, and I'd haggled, even if my efforts to barter away the seven-foot-tall, wood-carved Blessed Mother for the Polaroid proved futile.\n\n\"Four dollars,\" the photographer demanded as Hector looked away impassively.\n\n\"But this statue is worth sixty-five. I'll trade you straight up.\"\n\n\"No, se\u00f1or.\"\n\n\"The vanilla?\"\n\n\"Noooooo, se\u00f1or.\"\n\n\"How about the frog, then?\" I implored.\n\nThe vendor looked long and hard at my musically attuned amphibian, then shook his head and countered, \" _No lo quiero, sin el cantante.\"_\n\n\"What did he say?\" I asked Bottomfeeder, who had surprised me with, among other things, his proficiency in Spanish.\n\n\"He said, 'I don't want it without the singer.'\"\n\nFuckin' singers, I thought. \"Let's get the hell out of here.\"\n\nIt was on another trip to Mexico, sans Bottomfeeder, in the town of Arandas in the highlands of Jalisco, that I was introduced to Tezon, quite possibly the smoothest tequila on the market today.* The impeccable flavor of Tezon is a direct result of a high level of craftsmanship. It's made from 100 percent blue agave that is quartered, brick-oven roasted, and then crushed by a traditional \"Tahona\" millstone, a giant wheel fashioned from volcanic rock. Unlike most distillers, the makers of Tezon do not discard the pulped agave fibers after grinding, opting instead to leave the pulp in the juice through fermentation and the first of two distillations. Crystal-clear Tezon blanco, which is bottled immediately, is the purest expression of the agave, while the reposado and a\u00f1ejo tequilas are aged a bit in seasoned white-oak barrels.\n\nA hundred miles to the west of Arandas, nestled at the base of a volcano, is the tiny town of Tequila, ground zero for the production of the agave-based potable first distilled by ancient Aztec tribesmen. Over the past twenty-five years in the United States, tequila has evolved from being primarily the unrefined hootch of choice of shot-silly college students on spring break to a top-shelf spirit that competes with single-malt Scotches and premium vodkas for the hearts and taste buds of sophisticated tipplers with fat wallets. The town of Tequila is home to Jose Cuervo, the world's best-selling tequila. I once attended a lavish fiesta at Cuervo headquarters in celebration of the release of the 2004 Reserva de la Familia\u2014the brand's premium a\u00f1ejo. The party was totally off the hook, with several hundred jaw-dropping Latinas slinking around in tiny dresses that were virtually painted on. None of them wanted anything to do with me, of course, no doubt because I was the only goofball there wearing a white linen suit.*\n\nI ended up making time with\u2014you guessed it\u2014a publicist from Newport Beach named Brooklyn. She worked for an agency that represented Cuervo, and joked* that she was only hanging out with me because her boss had asked her to make sure I had a good time.\n\n\"I'm a team player,\" Brooklyn quipped before swallowing half a glass of tequila as though it were a Jell-O shot. Before long, I discovered she really meant it, too. Team player? Hell, that lush-ous lady was MVP of the Orange County Sloppy Drunks.\n\nWe went back to my hotel room in the hopes of finding some common ground to build upon, and find some we did\u2014in the form of those engaging fleshy lumps known as breasts and the blood-filled rod called... well, you get the idea. Problem was, beyond the boobs and boner, all we were left with were the not-nearly-so-engaging listless lumps known as each other. Not to mention the number Brooklyn did on my neck. Remember when getting a hickey was just the coolest thing in the world? It was like the pubescent equivalent of a diamond bracelet or a dozen long-stemmed roses. Indeed, a well-placed hickey served notice to every kid in school that, hey, not only does someone _like_ me, she likes me enough to suck on my throat 'til I bruise. Ah, young love\u2014it really is something. It's another thing altogether, however, to wake up after a one-night-stand in Mexico to find a conspicuously large blotch just below your chin line. Particularly when you're scheduled, as I was, to have lunch with the CEO of one of the world's largest spirits companies.\n\n\"I've never done this before,\" Brooklyn confided, snuggling beside me in bed as I weighed the perspiration factor of wearing a turtleneck in July against the embarrassment of explaining the ugly suck mark on my neck.\n\n\"What's that?\" I muttered.\n\n\"Slept with a writer on a work trip,\" she said. \"This is my first time.\"\n\n\"Congratulations!\" I replied. My clumsy stab at humor was intended to throw her off balance, as I sensed that the conversation had moved into uncomfortable terrain. Sure enough, it had.\n\n\"Have you?\" she asked.\n\n\"Have I what? Huh? Hey, are you hungry? Let's go grab a _taquito_ somewhere, okay?\"\n\n\"C'mon. You can tell me,\" she persisted. \"Have you ever slept with a publicist on a work trip? Be honest.\"\n\n\"Honestly,\" I stalled, running Bill Clinton\u2013like over my not-quitelying responses. I could deny based on the use of the term \"sleep,\" or on the fact that my memory is so faulty that lying is always suspect, or deny that what I do could be honestly described as \"work.\" But then I just lied like a man, \"I haven't either. You popped my publicist cherry.\"\n\nShe eyed me skeptically, but I held her gaze like the seasoned truth masseuse I have become. As is so often the case when one finds oneself naked with a stranger in a strange land, a certain politician-in-an-election-year-type ethics was in order. Hey, voters _need_ to be lied to. Euphemistically speaking, in exchange for her vote Brooklyn wanted me to promise to cut her taxes _and_ increase funding for social services. This is akin to the incessant spew of bullshit that netted that swine George W. Bush eight years in the White House. Hell, I was a Clinton man\u2014all I wanted was another roll in the hay.\n\n\"You're not lying, are you?\"\n\n\"Absolutely not,\" I responded, wondering if she would wonder if that was a glib vodka reference, which come to think of it, maybe it should have been. \"You asked if I've slept with any other publicists and I told you the God's honest truth\u2014no sleep 'til Brooklyn.\"\n\nThe Beastie Boys quip made her smile. Needless to say, with all due respect to Mr. and Mrs. Clinton's lock on New York politics, that night the Beasties and I carried Brooklyn.\n\nA strong argument could be made that I struck a bum deal in securing the rights to Bottomfeeder's life, but believe it or not there was a time when it looked as though he might prove my winning lottery ticket after all. That was back in 2005, when something implausible happened: Bottomfeeder became a leading man. In a movie. A REAL movie. Like most everything else that occurs in this fatuous fool's life, there was no rhyme or reason to his moment in the sun. One minute he was leading a neighborhood protest of an intrusive film production; the next he was doing love scenes with Kirsten Dunst.* Nobody's been that lucky since Jed Clampett took that shot at the rabbit and struck bubbling crude.\n\n\"I was out there picketing, cuz I wanted them to stop shining those bright thingies outside my bedroom window all night long,\" Bottomfeeder explained while sipping on a triple-soy chai latte something-or-other.*\n\n\"They're called lights, man,\" I interjected.\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"Those 'thingies' are lights. Movie lights.\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah, whatever. So then the cops show up and start arresting everybody. It took three of 'em with pepper spray and billy clubs to subdue me\u2014I've been working out, and all\u2014but eventually they did, and next thing you know I'm being savagely beaten behind a squad car,\" he explained. He claims to have been rescued from the police by the producer of the film, a guy Bottomfeeder described as being \"very powerful and Jewish.\" This producer said he liked Bottomfeeder's look. His LOOK?! What look would that be\u2014Salvation Army chic? Skid Row off-rack? Tommy Giveafinger?\n\n\"He says I have an 'old' Kieran Culkin thing going on,\" Bottomfeeder said between bites of a cucumber-and-bean-sprout-on-whole-grain-bread sandwich.* \"And he thinks me and Kirsten generate real heat on-screen.\" At this point, I wanted to shake my fist at the heavens and scream, \"Why God, why?\" but instead found myself asking Bottomfeeder for more details about the project.\n\n\"It's called _Code Name: Mingus_ and it's about this dashing international spy who kills lots of people and listens to jazz music. I play his sidekick, Remy.\"\n\n\"High concept,\" I said, or at least I think it was me who said it.\n\n_\"Really_ high,\" he replied, \"and they say it has huge European potential. We're doing the opening in Montreal this winter.\"*\n\nI nodded numbly. Why? I don't know for sure. I just did. Maybe the notion of Bottomfeeder becoming the next Ben Affleck or Brad Pitt was so unsettling, so patently absurd, that hearing about it short-circuited that part of my brain that would otherwise generate an appropriate response, such as a regurgitation. So I nodded, and continued to nod as Bottomfeeder spewed other nonsense like, \"My agent thinks the role is good for me at this critical juncture in my career,\" and \"I hope you won't mind making yourself scarce later, dude. Kirsten's coming over to run lines.\"\n\nLater, as I paced about on the street outside my building while they rehearsed, I began to put things into perspective. A bigger man would have found joy in his friend's good fortune. A better man would have offered to help out, maybe by talking to mutual friends about dropping certain restraining orders. But this man was thinking of a certain attorney on the Westside code-named \"the Beast\" who makes a cruel living off casually written talent contracts. I was thinking my five-hundred-dollar investment might turn out to be a bigger boon than anything I had invested in during the heady dotcom days. As for Bottomfeeder, well, so what if PETA got pissed about inhumane treatment of that dumb animal?\n\n\"You know the best thing about being a movie star?\" Bottomfeeder wondered aloud as he lounged on my sofa drinking my tequila,* eating my food, and watching my television. \"The parking, that's what.\"\n\nParking, huh? That was certainly news to me. I figured the best thing about being a movie star was freeloading, since Bottomfeeder\u2014who had inexplicably emerged as a Hollywood semi-player\u2014seemed to enjoy nothing more than lying around my apartment, consuming my things. He'd been at it, rent-free, for nearly four years. \"Look at this,\" he continued, pointing to an apparent movie on the TV. \"Affleck's headed to a meeting in the middle of Manhattan, and there's a spot right there in front of the building. He didn't even have to parallel park because the whole freakin' street was clear. Unbelievable! I mean, tell me, when does that ever happen in real life?\"\n\n\"Not very often,\" I muttered, resisting the urge to point out that Hollywood movies generally have about as much in common with real life as, well, Bottomfeeder's life does. It was then, to my great dismay, that I noticed he'd drained the last of the Corzo.*\n\n\"I'm gonna call my agent and tell him I need to have prime parking like that in my next movie,\" Bottomfeeder suddenly shouted. \"Did I tell you? I'm working with Triple H and Steven Seagal in a comedy about three guys who get stuck caring for a little baby girl.\"\n\nSee what I mean?\n\n\"So you're doing a remake,\" I said.\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"A remake. Of _Three Men and a Baby.\"_\n\nThis drew a blank stare from Bottomfeeder.\n\n\"It's a movie from the '80s. Tom Selleck, Ted Danson, and Steve Guttenberg. Same storyline. I think Leonard Nimoy directed it.\"\n\n\"Spock? Directed?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Wow, that's weird,\" he said. \"Cuz the baby in this movie turns out to be a flesh-eating alien just like those little furry things on _Star Trek._ It goes on a killing rampage and me, Triple H, and Seagal have to stop it.\"\n\n\"It sounds intense,\" I said, having no clue what else I possibly _could_ say to that.\n\n\"Yeah, it is,\" he replied. \"There's this one scene where the baby... uh, alien... whatever, kills this drifter played by the lead singer of Better Than Ezra. It is without a doubt the goriest scene ever committed to celluloid. Just awesome!\"\n\n\"Wait, the guy from Better Than Ezra is in your movie?\"\n\n\"Of course he is,\"* Bottomfeeder replied without a hint of irony. Then he began shaking the remote control like a Yoo-hoo from Hell. \"Hey, I think this thing might need new batteries.\"\n\nAt that, Restraint got up and stormed out the door. \"You know, brutha, YOU could go out and get batteries. In fact, YOU could even pay for them. Because the only guy who ever uses it is YOU. YOU. YOU. YOU! YOU!! YOU!!!\"\n\n\"What are you trying to say?\" he asked.\n\n\"I'm saying maybe our little arrangement has run its course. Our series is not getting picked up. Our option has expired. Principal photography is cancelled. You're eighty-sixed. Your next movie, _Exit City._ The sequel, _Scram-O_... look, I agreed to let you crash on the couch for a few months because I owed your uncle\u2014my landlord\u2014some money from that grease-fire thing. But that was, like, four years ago, and you're not poor anymore... at least, not financially.\"\n\nBottomfeeder looked at me with a flicker of interest. \"You want me to move out? Sorry, bro, but no can do. My acting coach says at this point in my career I need to keep it real, hang with the Real People, keep doing what I'm doing, you know. Evicted? From here? Man, the press would have a field day. So maybe later, dude.\"\n\nAnd with that he got up, grabbed the five-thousand-dollar bicycle the studio had sent over, muttered something about being out of brews, and banged the tires against both sides of the doorway as he left. \"Later,\" he said. \"Gotta get a ride in before _McCloud_ comes on.\" And I was left staring into space. Parking, indeed.\n\n_____________\n\n* This sort-of celebrity's name sort of rhymes with Thrilla Vanilla, a French vanilla liqueur for DeKuyper. I used to think real men didn't drink French vanilla liqueur, until I tried it with bourbon and cola on the rocks. It'll put hair on your chest... you can have it waxed off later.\n\n* Father Dowling was played by Tom Bosley, best known for his role as Mr. Cunningham on _Happy Days._ However, I'm most fond of the work Bosley did in those Glad trash bag commercials.\n\n* One-time heartthrob Ricky Nelson died in a plane crash in Texas in 1985 while on his way to a New Year's Eve concert. In a related note, more champagne is consumed on New Year's Eve than on any other night of the year.\n\n* According to the best guess of a popular wine and spirits columnist, the most popular cocktail in the gay community is the Cosmopolitan, followed by the Blow Job.\n\n* And unless you're interested in a sudden change in your employment status, I wouldn't recommend Googling \"shantytown-cum-city\" from any office computer that might be monitored.\n\n* \"Why pay more for a woody?\" would make for a great commercial hook, wouldn't it?\n\n* Spanish for \"legalized sweatshops.\"\n\n* Ditto for this one on the Google front.\n\n* Of course, \"today\"\u2014the one in which I'm typing these words\u2014is February 27th, 2007. By the time this tome reaches your hands\u2014and the hands of everyone on your Christmas list\u2014a host of new premium tequilas will have likely appeared. That's why plans are already in the works for a follow-up to this book, tentatively titled, _Nobody Likes a Quitter 2: Electric Boogaloo._\n\n* That's the last time I ever accept fashion advice from my mother, who still wears pastel blazers with shoulder pads from the 1984 Linda Evans collection.\n\n* At least, I _think_ she was joking.\n\n* Kirsten Dunst would most likely deny any knowledge of this and, in the interest of avoiding litigation, I would have to agree with her. Fully.\n\n* Designer java, of course, is the First Stage of Official Hollywood Affectation (OHA).\n\n* Stage Two of OHA.\n\n* _Code Name: Mingus_ was never released. Or made, for that matter. And Kirsten Dunst is still way hot, even if neither I nor anyone I know has ever met her.\n\n* I was introduced to Corzo tequila in the summer of '05 while partying at the hillside Santa Monica abode of actor Luke Wilson, star of such memorable movies as _Old School, Legally Blonde,_ and _The Royal Tenenbaums._ Luke also appeared in _Alex & Emma_ and the 2004 remake of _Around the World in 80 Days,_ but after about the third or fourth time I brought those clunkers up, I got the distinct impression he'd rather forget them. I mention Luke Wilson partly because he turned me on to a very enjoyable tequila, but mainly because I want to drop as many names as possible in this book in the hope that people will find me interesting. You have _your_ ambitions; I have mine.\n\n* Corzo distinguishes itself from other premium tequilas with a patented \"heart of hearts\" production process that involves three distillations and requires more than double the usual amount of blue agave per bottle. What's unique about the process is that Corzo is re-distilled _after_ aging for several months in white-oak barrels, a more aggressive approach to eradicating the \"heads and tails\" (the undesirable parts of a distillate). Corzo also employs a technique called \"sparging,\" the introduction before bottling of air bubbles that allow the tequila to breathe. What it all amounts to is one of the more refined tequilas on the market, and with an elegant bottle created by acclaimed designer Fabien Baron, Corzo looks as good on the bar as it tastes in a glass.\n\n* He wasn't.\n\n# Step 5\n\n# Getting Boozy... and the Beast\n\nNobody seems really certain if the Beast\u2014the famous and tempestuous SoCal attorney I attempted to retain to protect my interests in the life of the suddenly celebritized Bottomfeeder\u2014has \"666\" tattooed on his inner thigh. But I have it on good authority that the Mr. Wolf character in _Pulp Fiction_ is based on him... and it's also rumored that the Beast paid a fancy East Coast PR Firm $250,000 to get the rumor started. The Beast's specialty is contract law, palimony cases, and common-law tort. One of his signature techniques is getting beauties to roam about the town during their \"fertile time\" and hit up wealthy guys in a quest to develop a paternity situation; the Beast calls it \"supply-side paternity payout.\" Another Beastly tactic: he takes opposing counsel out for drinks to talk about a settlement, then has the parking lot attendant remove a taillight from the guy's Jaguar. Later, he reports the car to the DUI hotline claiming to have witnessed \"a nut in a Jag driving a hundred miles an hour without one of his back lights and nearly running over children.\" Of course, in the morning, the DUI stays private provided the settlement gets made.\n\nIt took some time to find the Beast, who turned out to be lunching with three expectant sirens beside the Beverly Hilton pool. I informed him that reaching his abode had cost me three bartender bribes, and would not have been necessary had he simply returned my repeated phone calls to the 800 number I found scrawled in blood across a bathroom mirror. He pressed a button next to a scrumptious-looking pitcher of **sangria** and two uniformed geeks appeared from nowhere; as they gently lifted me by my armpits the Beast informed me that earlier that very day he'd been retained by none other than my roomie, aka the Bottomfeeder, who inexplicably found his name and number inside a matchbox that somebody had dropped in Aspen's famed J-Bar.\n\n\"Sangria\" derives from the Spanish word for \"blood,\" and it says here that vampires ain't got nothing on the Spaniards, besides the ability to tap a jugular vein, that is. There are countless recipes for sangria, and my favorite mix comes courtesy of the Food Network, which ranks up there with Spike and Animal Planet among the most useful channels on basic cable.\n\n#   Sangria Is Bloody Good\n\nMy love affair with sangria began many years ago in Spain, during Seville's amazing Feria de Abril, a nonstop weeklong bash widely considered the most bacchanalian event on the city's social calendar. My days were spent perfecting the Sevillana, a distinctly Andalusian form of flamenco dancing, the nights reserved for sipping sweet wine punch in the private _caseta_ of an alluring Spanish socialite who'd somehow gotten the impression I was an important member of the international spirits media. It was an impressive connection indeed, considering the socialite didn't understand a lick of English and the closest I'd ever come to speaking a foreign language was uttering the words, \"Of course I really love you.\"\n\n**Sangria**\n\n1 orange, sliced thin\n\n1 lemon, sliced thin\n\n2 tablespoons superfine granulated sugar\n\n1 bottle chilled dry red wine\n\n1\/2 cup cognac\n\n1\/4 cup Grand Marnier\n\n2 tablespoons orange juice\n\n1 cup chilled seltzer or club soda\n\nIn a bowl, muddle the orange and lemon slices with the sugar. Add red wine, cognac, Grand Marnier, and orange juice. Stir until sugar is dissolved. Transfer to a punch bowl, chill overnight, then stir in seltzer, add plenty of ice, and serve.\n\n\"What's Bottomfeeder doing in Aspen?\" I asked incredulously.\n\n\"The Caller ID would indicate he's staying out at Eisner's place... he said with Kirsten Dunst, I think... or maybe it's Kirstie Ally... something with a 'K' in it.\" One of the preggo chicks was distracting the Beast by rubbing tanning lotion all over his enormous, hairy belly.\n\nBottomfeeder? At Michael Eisner's place? With a _woman?_ A famous woman, no less? Surely, the Beast was mad. Or perhaps he was lying in an effort to jack up his already exorbitant fees. Besides, why on earth would Bottomfeeder need an attorney?\n\n\"You know that contract between you guys?\" growled the Beast. \"The one that says you own the rights to my client's life story?\"\n\nI nodded suspiciously.\n\n\"Well,\" the Beast continued, \"it ain't worth the napkin it's scribbled on.\"\n\n\"Says who?\" I countered, feeling hot blood rush to my cheeks and suddenly resenting being held aloft by the two geeks.\n\n\"Says me! Thing is, buddy-boy, my client signed the contract while under duress, possibly under the influence of adult beverages, and very likely under the threat of bodily harm, which could be kidnapping in California... but he's a nice guy, which is why I'm not asking that you be arrested on federal charges, but only petitioning the court to render the napkin null and void.\"\n\n\"Duress?\"\n\n\"That's right, duress. And fear of imminent bodily harm.\"\n\n_\"Of course_ he was under duress,\" I shouted. \"A bookie was going to kill him unless he came up with five hundred dollars. So I gave him the money in exchange for the rights to his life. A theretofore totally meaningless life that I saved!\"\n\n\"Look, there's no reason to get excited,\" the Beast practically whispered, his voice suddenly softer than Michael Moore's abs. He nodded and the geeks set me down gently. \"Why don't we head into the hotel bar?\" he cooed. \"We'll have a few limoncellos ****and see if we can come to some sort of settlement. You're parked with the valet, right?\"\n\nA taillight on my car went missing, and shortly thereafter I found myself behind the eight ball at the bargaining table. It took everything I had to keep from resorting to violence, something the Beast\u2014whose firm also handles personal injury suits\u2014would have surely welcomed. Fortunately, I would get a brief reprieve from the Beast-Bottomfeeder madness in the form of an all-expenses-paid junket to the Great White North, a place that has not only given the world some of its biggest stars (Jim Carrey, Pam Anderson, William Shatner, Loverboy), but is also a veritable cornucopia of alcohol-related delights.\n\n#   Like Lemonade for Big People\n\nLimoncello is a fresh-tasting liqueur made from sun-kissed Mediterranean lemons, sugar, and alcohol that has been a staple in the Old Country for generations. My favorite labels have long been Villa Massa and Limoncello di Capri, but in recent years I've taken a shine to Limonc\u00e9\u2014Italy's number-one-selling brand. One of my favorite limoncello concoctions, the Belmont Gran Centennial, was created by talented New York mixologist Aviram Turgeman a few years back in celebration of the hundredth anniversary of the famed New York racetrack.\n\n**The Belmont Gran Centennial**\n\n0.75 oz. GranGala Triple Orange Liqueur\n\n0.75 oz. Limonc\u00e9 limoncello\n\n1.5 oz. Bacardi Lim\u00f3n rum\n\n0.5 oz. fresh lime juice\n\n1.5 oz. Brut champagne lemon verbena sprig for garnish\n\nPour first four ingredients into a mixing glass, add ice, and shake for six seconds; strain into an ice-filled highball glass. Top off with the champagne. Garnish with the lemon verbena and serve with two long sipping straws.\n\nDespite my impassioned appeal to reconsider what I deemed to be her rather close-minded position, the bondage-diva security officer at LAX was adamant in her belief that Canada is some sort of sovereign nation\u2013\u2014 _not_ our fifty-first state\u2014and insisted that I produce proper identification in order to fly there. \"Besides a Costco card!\" she growled, clearly unaware of just how difficult it is to obtain Super Saver status in these troubled times. \"You need to show me a passport or a birth certificate within twenty minutes, or else you aren't getting on that plane. Got it?\"\n\nSo as you can see, my trip to the Great White North didn't start off so well. Not that I was overly worried, mind you. Years of working as a writer on the go had inured me to the gamut of indignities regularly visited upon weary travelers by obstinate airport employees. So when one of Alaska Airlines' finest brazenly rejected my savings club card as \"worthless,\" well, I simply flashed her a wicked grin suggesting that not only was I the sort who might allow a stranger to pack my bags for me, but that I'd also flat-out lie about it at the check-in counter.*\n\nCalls were made to well-connected associates at the FAA, and before you could say \"Barenaked Ladies rule!\" I was on my way to Vancouver, a city I knew embarrassingly little about, save that (a) Mick Jagger once hailed it as the best strip-club city in the world, and (b) so did my cousin Fonzo from Jersey. It turns out there's lots to do in Vancouver besides stuff funny-looking money into the G-strings of well-endowed women. It truly is, as the Official Visitors' Guide claims, \"a special place where the mountains melt into the shore, and where wild rivers rush to meet the ocean.\" And, I might add, a place where the strippers will let you keep their underwear if you ask nicely enough. Boy, was Jagger ever right about the place.\n\nI stayed at an \u00fcber-trendy boutique hotel called Opus, a converted warehouse on Davie Street in the Yaletown section of the city. Opus, by all accounts, was at the time _the_ place to see and be seen in Vancouver, and I spent hours ogling its urbane denizens, along with a selection of celebs that included Michael Stipe, David Duchovny, and Sarah Michelle Gellar. Had a drunken Tommy Lee showed up and started hitting on the ladies, well, it would have been _exactly_ like a night out at the Chateau Marmont in Hollywood. The ninety-seven-room Opus has five varying d\u00e9cor styles, named after fictional personality types such as \"Mike,\" a New York doctor who drives a Saab and likes the muted palette of a loft-influenced suite (I'm not making this up, as if I could). I stayed in a \"Susan,\" a tasteful room, according to the hotel's general manager David Curell, designed for \"a fashion analyst who likes Manolo Blahnik shoes. \"You will of course remember power forward and defensive specialist Manolo Blahnik from that playoff series when his Knicks bested the Celtics in six games.\n\n\"Perhaps you'd prefer a 'Dede,'\" Curell generously offered. \"She's a method actor from L.A. who shops at Fred Segal.\" Well, given that I'm a wannabe screenwriter who knows several L.A. songs and used to drive past Fred Segal on my way to perform safety inspections at the El Segundo slaughterhouse, Dede made more sense than Susan. But I decided to stay put. Too bad they didn't have a \"Fonzo,\" a paroled Teamster from Newark who beats people up for sport.\n\nI was pleased to discover that each of the Opus Hotel's rooms came equipped with a Sony Playstation unit, not to mention an expansive selection of in-room adult entertainment with which to satisfy the ol' avaricious concupiscence. The most intriguing amenity, however, was the \"Oxy-Gene\"\u2014a portable, hand-held oxygen canister containing more than twelve minutes' worth of oxygen-enriched air. Ostensibly, sucking on this sleek little gadget will stimulate cells, kick-start the metabolism, and thereby provide for increased energy. But the real reason these babies were a hit at Opus is simple: a potent oxygen injection does wonders to relieve the sting of a wicked hangover. And if you're planning on hitting the town in party-crazed Vancouver, it's nice to know that \"morning after\" relief is only a few deep breaths away.\n\nOf course, a report on Vancouver would not be complete without a mention of Brandi's, which offers the best \"exotic entertainment\" north of Snoop Dogg's crib. The dancers\u2014most of whom have adopted luxury vehicle\u2013inspired stage names\u2014are beautiful, friendly, and best of all, COMPLETELY NUDE! Oh, Canada, thank you for being so uninhibited, so au naturel, so... so... poonielicious. That whole big mess a few years back, you know, with Iraq, and you not supporting us and all that? Well, you're forgiven. And you've got Lexus, Mercedes, and Portia (with a \"T,\" like in Shakespeare) to thank for it.\n\nBy the time I got back to Susan at the Opus, things had begun to blur a bit in that delightful way familiar to those who have visited World Class destinations with a decent press credential and the ethics one might expect from a second-generation Washington lobbyist on a three-week meth bender. My notes for the design of the newest Opus room, \"Brandi,\" include a detailed leather budget and, in a large red scrawl, \"MUST hire LAX security dominatrix as room designer\" across the top of the page. Ah, Vancouver, cling to your damned independent ways and your play-money currency (how very French of you!) but know in your heart of hearts that some of us Down South will always associate you with a certain fifty-first state of mind. And you'll have me, Mick, and Fonzo to thank if there's ever a Brandi room at the Opus.\n\n## One week later, back in LA...\n\n\"I hope there are no hard feelings about, you know, the whole THING with the lawyer and all,\" Bottomfeeder said matter-of-factly between the final bites of a leftover Shakey's pizza, which he washed down with a Tiger beer.*\n\n\"Hard feelings? About the THING?\" I replied. \"Oh, you must mean the THING where you hired a professional purloiner called the Beast to sue ME\u2014the guy whose sofa you've been sleeping on rent-free all these years\u2014for 'criminal negligence' and 'emotional damage' caused by my 'egregious failure' to keep the refrigerator adequately stocked with beer and Hot Pockets? No, man, why would I still be mad about that? After all, the ink's been dry on that diktat for nearly a week!!!\"\n\n\"Cool,\" Bottomfeeder said as he cracked open my last bottle of beer. \"And by the way, we're out of Flying Dog. And did I tell ya what a great time Kirsten Dunst and I had in Aspen? That place freakin' rocks, dude. You should go back for a visit... once you, um, get back on your feet financially and stuff.\"\n\n\"You don't say?\" I did say, while weighing the long-term \"emotional damage\" I might suffer over the course of a long prison sentence versus the immediate intoxication I'd surely experience were I to manslaughter the \"egregious failure\" who was riffling through my CD collection.\n\n\"Yep. Lots of chicks and mountains and shit. And Eisner flew out for the weekend and took us to dinner at a place called Condiments or Condoms and Drums... I dunno, something with a 'C' in it... and then we went dancing at Scooters and then Mike signed me to a three-picture deal with points on the back-end. My agent says we scored big-time, and Kirsten bought me a new Jag.\"\n\nMy mood was foul as I trudged through the grocery store pushing a cart loaded with more Tiger beer and Hot Pockets. The Bottomfeeder situation had gone from unpleasant to calamitous\u2014he was getting rich and famous, apparently sleeping with Kirsten Dunst, and was legally entitled to half (which wasn't much) of everything I owned. On top of that, he'd made it clear that despite his newfound prosperity, he had no plans to move out of my apartment. \"I like the mise-en-sc\u00e8ne of the place,\" he told me. \"Keepin' it real, dude.\" I eyed the fine edge of a kitchen knife in the utensils aisle as he continued: \"Plus, I'm much more comfortable now that I'm in the bedroom instead of on the couch. By the way, when do you think you'll have the rest of your stuff outta there?\"\n\nBrowsing in the magazine and paperbacks aisle, I considered buying a copy of Norman Vincent Peale's _The Power of Positive Thinking._ But then I thought, \"What the hell good would that do?\"\n\nOh, and before we move on to the next chapter\u2014and lest you think things couldn't have gotten any worse for me\u2014check out the following e-mail exchange:\n\nDate: Tuesday, October 5th  \nTo: Dan Dunn  \nFrom: Barry Silver, 20th Century Fox Television  \nRe: \"Polly's Pros\" pilot notes\n\nDear Dan:\n\nHope you're having a fantastic day. Is this weather we've been having simply fantastic or what? Fisher tells me you've been doing some traveling. Hope you're keeping out of trouble, you wild man (ha, ha!).\n\nAnyhoo, we received your latest draft of the \"Polly's Pros\" pilot script, and while we're certainly pleased that you finally got around to making some revisions, I must tell you that we still have some significant concerns about the overall direction and tone of the work. I respect the fact that, as Fisher regularly assures us, you're an artist who is fiercely protective of your own unique vision, but truth be told, some folks here at the network are interpreting your \"chutzpah\" and complete disregard of our notes to be somewhat of a disobliging attitude. Don't get me wrong, Dan, we here at Fox are still very excited about this partnership with you and look forward to all the fantastic things the future holds, but in the interest of ensuring that \"Polly's Pros\" makes it into the prime-time lineup, we graciously ask for a little more effort from you to meet us halfway on our requests. For instance, when we pointed out that the \"Squeeze my tits\" catchphrase was in violation of FCC decency standards, we assumed you'd revise accordingly. I don't think I need to tell you that \"Eat shit, bitch!\" is not an acceptable alternative, yet for some baffling reason, that's just what you offered in the rewrite. What's wrong with my suggestions\u2014\"Pinch my buns,\" \"Whatever!\" and \"Fluff off, toots!\"? Based on extensive focus-group testing, we're confident that any one of those will resonate with viewers. Also, we noticed that in the latest draft, you inexplicably opted to change the storyline from Polly trying to convince her unsuspecting mother that the brothel she runs is a nunnery, to a decidedly unfunny scenario that has her being savagely beaten by Colombian drug dealers. We can only assume that this is some kind of misguided joke, Dan, as you cannot really believe that 20th Century Fox would ever produce a sitcom about a \"smack-addicted whore,\" as you brazenly re-titled the pilot. To make matters worse, an understandably distraught Tracy Nelson is threatening to pull out of the entire project. Please get back to me ASAP with your thoughts on these matters. We'd very much like to resolve and move forward. Okay? Fantastic.\n\n\u2014Barry\n\nI responded a week later...\n\nBS:\n\nYep, I have been traveling. Or at least I was until some overzealous pig pulled me over for a broken taillight last week in Utah and the shit hit the fan. Goddamn outstanding bench warrants! Nothing FANTASTIC about spending a week in the pokey sharing a cell with an ornery three-hundred-pound guy named Big Dread, Barry, that's for damn sure. The only reason you're getting this reply is because the turn-key at the Green River County Jail failed to probe my ass for the Blackberry. So, for obvious reasons, I gotta make this quick. The reason I altered the pilot the way I did was cuz God spoke to me in a dream and told me to do so. That's right\u2014the Big Man Himself wants us to use this sitcom as His vessel in a crusade against social injustice, and He vowed to smite anyone who stands in the way of the good work we're doing. Therefore, it's imperative that Polly remain a smack-addicted whore _and_ die a grotesque and painful death at the end of the first episode. This will send the appropriate messages to the masses: Drugs and sex are bad, and Tracy Nelson is the Antichrist. Big Dread thinks we're a lock for an Emmy nomination. I've hired him to be the assistant head writer for the series. We're putting the finishing touches on the second-episode script right now. Don't want to ruin the surprise ending, but let's just say the slaying of an abortion doctor has never been funnier. Also, Barry, it would be a big help if you could post bail for Big Dread and me. The food here is not very good.\n\nFluff off, toots!\n\n\u2014DD\n\nHis reply arrived in 37 seconds...\n\nDan:\n\nWe're passing on \"Polly's Pros.\" You need professional help.\n\n\u2014Barry\n\n_____________\n\n* This is a risky strategy best left to professional travel liars; miss the mark and you will never casually associate the word \"cavity\" with dentistry again.\n\n* Imported from Singapore, where it is that country's best-selling brew, Tiger Beer first made contact with Western palates during World War II, when it became the thirst-quencher of choice for Allied Forces serving in the region.\n\n# Step 6\n\n# You Know What They Say About Guys with Small Chapters...\n\nWe were dead at Fox, and everyone from Polly Holliday to Tracy Nelson to Nick Lachey's personal trainer's assistant was threatening to sue me, so Fisher really had to earn his ten percent of nothing to get me another meeting in town. It wound up being at MTV, where I met with a twenty-two-year-old African-American development exec named Blake Shipley to discuss an idea I had for a reality TV show called _Ride My Pimp!_ \u2014sort of like _The Amazing Race_ meets HBO's _Hookers and Johns._ Fisher thought the idea had legs, and that there'd be ample opportunity for promotional tie-ins... mostly from gun manufacturers and pharmaceutical companies that specialize in penicillin.\n\nI recall being excited when I learned that Blake Shipley was black, because at that time, in yet another misguided attempt at bettering myself, I'd taken to incorporating \"street\" jargon into everyday conversation. I'd found that when dealing with, say, some of the more youthful magazine editors or folks from the entertainment industry, simply tossing in a few words and expressions co-opted from hip underprivileged youth really added extra validity, or \"cred\" as they say in the giddyack, to whatever message I was attempting to convey. Fo-sniffle! Then again, I also found that it didn't always work out that way.\n\n\"We hired a market research firm to evaluate the show's prospects, and the results of a comprehensive study were extremely encouraging, especially in the highly coveted eighteen- to thirty-four-year-old male demographic,\" I told Blake, adding, \"and the concept is the shiz-nit, bee-otch!\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\" Blake said.\n\n\"You know... the shiz-nit. Abracadabra. Crescent fresh as all get out. Dope. Da Bomb.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite following,\" said Blake, his gaze drifting from my FUBU skully down to the brand-new Malcolm X T-shirt I'd worn for the occasion.\n\n\"The doo-doo. Phat. The goot,\" I continued. \"Off the hook. Super saucy. The kind of show that will really bring in the advertisers, so that you and I will be rolling in the luchini. I'm talkin' mad stacks to the fullest.\"\n\n\"The what?\"\n\n\"The benjamins. The downs. Dead presidents. Bones.\"\n\n\"Look, can you just tell me, in as straightforward a manner as possible, what this show is about? What happens in a typical episode?\"\n\n\"Okay, we got these pimps\u2014outgoing, photogenic pimps with great personalities. And they'll be carrying prostitutes on their backs in a series of timed challenges... like racing against each other...\n\naway from the cops, gangbangers, et cetera. Plus, to amp up the drama, all the contestants will be living together in the same house. A crack house.\"\n\n\"Pimps and hookers running around a crack house. And you want us to put this on MTV?\"\n\nI nodded enthusiastically.\n\n\"Is this some kind of joke?\"\n\n\"Uh, well, there'll be some comedy, sure. But I see it as more of an action-thriller-suspense kind of reality program. I don't think that's been attempted before.\"\n\n\"With pimps and hookers?\"\n\n\"We don't have to call them that, if that's an issue,\" I reassured Blake. \"We could go with juggalos and hizzos, for instance.\"\n\n\"Look,\" he said. \"We're not interested, and furthermore I really don't appreciate you coming in here and\u2014\"\n\n\"What's the dilly, yo? Why you playa hatin'? You some kinda bosepheus or something?\"\n\n\"Bosepheus?\"\n\n\"Yeah, you know, a brutha who has no funk. Much like Carlton on _The Fresh Prince,_ this brutha is said to have 'honky' tendencies.\"\n\n\"Who you callin' a honky, wegro? I'm black!\"\n\n\"Whoa, whoa, whoa, my man, be juggalo... keep it greasy. We cool,\" I told him. \"There's no need for us to be griffin'. I wasn't trying to jank you or nuthin'. And besides, some of my best friends are black.\"\n\nAt this point an angry Blake, clearly envious of my superior ebonics skillz, pressed a button on his intercom and asked an assistant to summon security. Having been in similar situations before, I knew it was time to vamoose.\n\n\"Man, I don't get why you're so angry,\" I said with one leg already out the window. \"You didn't happen to talk with Barry Silver from Fox recently, did you?\"\n\n\"Just get out, man. Please!\"\n\n\"Word,\" I replied. And with that, I was jailtrottin' down the street. I decided then and there that I was done swallowing my pride just to make it in Hollywood.* After all, I had a hell of a career going already. So what if script doctors and television-series creators made more scratch than a rabid cat in a flea-dip commercial? I got paid to get potted and tell people about it. Who _wouldn't_ want a job like mine? Aside, that is, from people in AA, those poor bastards on the waiting list for liver transplants, and anyone interested in living past fifty?*\n\nJeah, boy-eeeeeee!!!!!!\n\nWhen I got home I shared the news of my showbiz emancipation with Bottomfeeder, who greeted me with all the enthusiasm of a kid who'd been routinely denied entry to the candy store. It was 11:15 A.M. and he'd been up all night parked in front of the television drinking **Chambord** straight from the bottle and surfing the twenty-four-hour news channels. It'd been days since he'd showered, spoken, or even moved off the living room sofa, distraught over having been beaten out for a role in an upcoming David Lynch film by the kid who played Bud Bundy on _Married... with Children._ It was not an ideal time to engage Bottomfeeder in conversation\u2014but then again, when was it ever?\n\n#   The Spirit of Dead French Royalty\n\nLouis XIV discovered Chambord in 1685 not long before he and his French army lay siege to Philipsburg. Somewhat coincidentally, I discovered the very same raspberry liqueur three hundred years later while laying siege to my parents'liquor cabinet in Philly after a high school dance. Louis XIV and his court were quite fond of the stuff and it quickly became the liqueur of choice of the French aristocracy. I, on the other hand, wasn't so enamored with Chambord at first, mainly because my prom date threw up on me after drinking it. The lesson here, kids: raspberry liqueur does not pair well with Natty Light, pure grain alcohol, and the semi-caustic vocal stylings of Mr. Mister.\n\nSince then I've come to appreciate Chambord for its distinct flavor and versatility. I'm also happy to report that Mr. Mister's \"Broken Wings\" has gotten less awful with age and that I can still hold my liquor better than most teenaged girls. Plus, the empty Chambord bottle I've got hanging from my rearview mirror looks mos' def. It has been called the quintessential cocktail ingredient, thanks to its uncanny knack for mixing well with almost anything (see above paragraph for exceptions). Here then, some raspberry-flavored treat recipes:\n\n**La Boh\u00e8me**\n\n1 shot vodka\n\n1\/2 shot elderflower cordial\n\n1\/2 shot Chambord\n\n11\/2 shots cranberry juice\n\nShake all with ice and strain into a martini glass.\n\n**French Kiss**\n\n2 shots vodka\n\n11\/2 shots Chambord\n\n1 shot white cr\u00e8me de cacao\n\n1 shot heavy cream\n\nShake all with ice and strain into a martini glass. Float a mini Hershey's Kiss on top.\n\n**Raspberry Mochatini**\n\n1 shot espresso\n\n11\/2 shots raspberry vodka\n\n3\/4 shot brown cr\u00e8me de cacao\n\n3\/4 shot Chambord\n\nShake all with ice and strain into a martini glass. Garnish with shaved chocolate.\n\n\"Everything okay?\" I asked delicately, so as not to further agitate him.\n\n\"Well, first off, fuck David Faustino,\" he spat. \"That midget couldn't act his way out of a paper bag... and what does that mean, anyway? In what scenario would acting ability be necessary as a means of escaping from a bag?\"\n\nI nodded and said nothing, having learned from experience that it is best to remain silent whenever Bottomfeeder begins arguing figures of speech with himself. On the television, California's Governor Terminator was delivering a \"state of the State\" address in which he vowed to weed out the special interests he claimed were compromising the integrity of the legislative process.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Bottomfeeder barked. \"And by 'special interests,' he means the interests of people who disagree with him. What a bunch of bullshit! They're all a bunch of fucking cocks, you know that?\"\n\n\"Yep. Cocks,\" I said.\n\nThat exchange was followed by a rather lengthy lull in the conversation, in which Bottomfeeder picked at his skin and I tried unsuccessfully to get comfortable with the notion that we might have just shared a moment.\n\n\"Do you know Faustino?\" he asked.\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"Faustino. You know, Bud Bundy. I thought you might know him.\"\n\n\"Why would you think I'd know Faustino?\"\n\n\"Well fuck, man, you like _Married... with Children,_ doncha?\" came his fiery retort, as if that nebulous connection made perfect sense.\n\n\"I like Guns & Roses, too, but I don't know Slash!\"\n\n\"You wanna meet him?\" he asked.\n\n\"Who? Slash or Faustino?\"\n\nBottomfeeder's face reddened. \"For chrissakes, man, screw your head on straight! What the hell would you want to meet Faustino for? The guy can't act to save his life!\"\n\nBefore I had a chance to answer, Bottomfeeder launched into a heated one-man debate over the likelihood of ever needing to deliver a great performance in order to stave off the Grim Reaper. On television a talking head was babbling about the push for campaign finance reform, and I tried to ascertain whether the stench in the air was emanating from stale ideas or my besotted roommate. Mostly, I couldn't help wondering how awesome it'd be to meet Slash. I bet that would be an especially interesting experience. So I called Fisher and asked him to try to arrange a meeting. He said he'd do his best, but in light of his disappointment over what had transpired at MTV, I wasn't really counting on it.\n\n_____________\n\n* I also decided not to share that information with Fisher.\n\n* I also decided not to share that information with Fisher.\n\n# Step 7\n\n# A Woman of Some Importance\n\nThere was a knock on my door. It sounded like any other knock, say, from a FedEx guy or a neighbor wanting to borrow some sugar. But as I was about to discover, the person responsible for this knock that occurred on Super Bowl Sunday 2007 at 12:27 P.M. was no ordinary visitor. It was a knock from the Other Side.\n\n\"Who in a rat's ass could that be?\" Bottomfeeder screamed from the kitchen.\n\n\"I don't know,\" I yelled back from the bathroom. \"Why don't you answer it and find out?\"\n\n\"Cuz I'm making the deviled eggs!\"\n\nI imagine everyone has peculiar traditions, and my freeloading roommate is no exception. In celebration of sporting events\u2014including, but not limited to, the Super Bowl, World Series, NBA Finals, Stanley Cup, Masters, Bass Fishing Cup, NCAA Cheerleading Finals, Ultimate Fighting World Title, Great Wyoming Lumberjack Throw-Down, The Battle of the Network Stars, and the Pro Bowling Seniors Championship\u2014Bottomfeeder spends countless hours preparing deviled eggs from a secret recipe passed down through generations of freeloaders. Again, you've got _your_ traditions, he's got his.\n\n\"Well, I'm on the toilet,\" I yelled back. \"You'll _have_ to get the door!\"\n\nFrom the kitchen came the sounds of loud grumbling along with some exaggerated rattling of pots and pans\u2014B.F.'s way of letting me, and the unexpected visitor, know he was none too pleased with being disturbed while bedeviling. It couldn't be helped. I'd been on the porcelain throne for nearly an hour, stopped up worse than a hair clog in Donald Trump's sink. And at the rate things were going, I'd be damn lucky to be off the john by kickoff or even by the end of the first quarter, when we all believed the Super Bowl would be over, and the only important matter left to be settled would be the debate over which commercial ruled the most.\n\n\"It's for you,\" he said, and I recall that his voice seemed eerily _illomened._ \"Somebody named Sylvia.\"\n\nThe most accurate way to convey what I felt next is this: imagine being struck by a lightning bolt. A lightning bolt made of ex-lax(r). Goodbye constipation, hello Worst Nightmare! Sylvia? SYLVIA?! I tried to convince myself that it couldn't be _that_ Sylvia, yet sensing somehow that it most certainly was, panic set in. _Aspen_ Sylvia? At my door? In California? I experienced a cacophonous ringing in my ears. Looking back, I would have preferred to have heard the shrill yelps of the Hounds of Hell.\n\nHow the... ? What the... ? Who the... ?\n\n\"He's right in there,\" I thought I heard Bottomfeeder saying. \"Go ahead in.\"\n\nI tried to scream no, but my voice failed me. And then she was standing there, right in front of me, and all I could say was, \"I just crapped\"... certainly not what I had dreamed I'd say if I were ever to see her again after lo these many lonely years. But \"I just crapped\" was all I could muster under such duress. And truth be told, it pretty much covered the bill.\n\n\"I'm back!\" Sylvia gushed. \"Did you miss me?\"\n\nI was never sure if being in love with Sylvia was exactly like having a sore tooth or owning a vintage Jaguar. The tooth argument: clamp down the jaw to see if it... OUCH!... still hurts. Push hard with the tongue to see if it... OH GOD!... still hurts. Forget all about her and sit down to a nice lunch and OH MY GOD IT STILL HURTS! Or, the Jag argument: You know you can't afford the maintenance she needs, but she sure looks amazing there beside the road as you leave to seek help. And here was Sylvia, big as life, setting my tongue twitching in reflex.\n\n\"You look great!\" she said, which I found hard to believe. After all, I was sitting on the toilet with my pants around my ankles, wearing a pained expression that I imagine was not unlike the one Anne Frank must have sported when she first heard the knock on the attic door.\n\n\"Are you going to say something?\" she asked.\n\nYou mean, _other_ than the \"I just crapped\" thing? Probably not.\n\nThen someone said, \"Try one of these deviled eggs.\" Wait, did _I_ say that? My mind plays tricks when I'm in cardiac arrest. No, it was Bottomfeeder, standing in the bathroom with Sylvia and me proffering a tray full of malodorous hors d'oeuvres. I believe this is exactly how Dante envisioned the Ninth Circle of Hell.\n\n\"Did you ever notice,\" B.F. said to Sylvia, \"that on an emotional level, Jerry Springer guests tend to carry around more baggage than Paris Hilton on safari? Also, in every guest there seems to be a direct correlation among level of insanity, caloric intake, the number of teeth missing.\"\n\nSylvia agreed, then swallowed a deviled egg whole.\n\n\"I'm Sylvia,\" she said to him, extending a hand. \"Dan's girlfriend.\"\n\n\"I'm Bottomfeeder,\" he replied. \"Dan's best friend.\"\n\nThings I Never Wanted To Hear were suddenly slam-dancing in my cranial mosh pit. My _girlfriend?_ My _best friend?_ It was as though I'd shit myself into a horrific nightmare, filled with grotesque Maurice Sendak\u2013esque creatures trying to pass themselves off as loved ones. There was only one thing to do. I got up off the toilet, steeled myself, looked Sylvia and B.F. square in the eyes, and said, \"Do you wanna go to a bar and watch the game?\"\n\nIt was in Aspen in the mid-'90s, around the time I started hanging out with Hunter S. Thompson (whoops, dropped something), that I met Sylvia and\u2014to filch from yet another scribe\u2014for me those were undoubtedly the best of times, and the worst of times. In a dizzying three-month span, I'd met and befriended both my literary hero and the woman of my dreams. Both relationships would bring me profound joy... and the two together would eventually shatter my brittle psyche like a dwarf tossed through a plate-glass window, except without the redeeming cuteness quotient that comes with the dwarf toss.\n\nEver since I left Aspen, I've gone to great lengths to purge the pain. I tried therapy, yoga, Tony Robbins tapes... I even dabbled with self-medication, or, as my probation officer referred to it, \"a serious parole violation.\" And progress was made, friends. PROGRESS WAS MADE! Hell, up until that fateful knock on the door, I thought I was \"pretty much over it\"\u2014which is safer than claiming to be \"completely over it,\" because then you'd _know_ I'm entirely full of shit. So, yeah, I was doing good, all right, and then someone chucked the Dwarf of Heartache through the glass again. And if you're wondering whodunit, well, allow me to give you a hint....\n\n\"So,\" Sylvia said, trying to break seven years' worth of ice at O'Brien's pub while I attempted to quell my exquisite inner pain with copious amounts of a concoction called a Plank Walker,* \"I read in the paper that some screenwriter was just paid lots of money to adapt one of Hunter Thompson's books into a movie... weren't you gonna do that? You know, before you two had that fight?\"\n\nI nodded numbly, then gestured for the bartender\u2014my Plank Walker needed a bit more **Chartreuse.** As he topped off the cocktail I wondered if professional chefs sweat the small beer like I do when they go out to eat. For instance, if Mario Batali were dining at Bobby Flay's restaurant in Manhattan, would he send back a lobster\u2013toasted garlic quesadilla with brie cheese if the dish were a tad light on tarragon relish? Or would that just make Mario look like a dick?\n\n#   In Search of... Chartreuse\n\nFolklore, of the sort propagated by resourceful publicists, has it that the recipe for the liqueur Chartreuse is a mystery to the entire world excepting three Carthusian monks cloistered inside a monastery in the French Alps. And even those three holy men each knows but a portion of the complete formula. Protecting trade secrets is one thing, but this sounds a bit excessive if you ask me. After all, if you can't trust a cloistered monk, then who in the hell can you trust? (Oprah, maybe ? The Dalai Lama?) What we do know about the production of the mysterious Chartreuse is that it contains more than 130 herbs and botanicals, it's the only liqueur to be aged in oak vats, and the Carthusian Order has been at it nonstop for four hundred years.\n\nThere are two types of Chartreuse: green and yellow. The former is intensely floral, with strong hints of fennel, rosemary, cinnamon, and cloves. Yellow Chartreuse is the more citrusy of the two, brimming with flavors such as blood orange, lemon, and honey. Chartreuse isn't really the type of elixir to be enjoyed straight, but it can really spruce up a cocktail. Fortunately, I know a guy on the inside at the monastery who managed to smuggle out a few cocktail recipes:\n\n**Mona's Smile**\n\nby Janice Brown\n\n0.5 oz. Green Chartreuse\n\n0.5 oz. Calvados (apple brandy)\n\n1.61803 oz. rye or bourbon blended whiskey\n\n3-4 hearty dashes of Amaro Ramazzotti Liqueur water (club soda optional)\n\nShake all the ingredients in a cocktail shaker half-filled with ice. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with a pyramid-shaped Jerusalem artichoke cube and a cherry on a sword pick.\n\n**Chartreuse Fizz**\n\nas featured at Diner in Brooklyn, NY\n\n1 oz. gin\n\n0.75 oz. Green Chartreuse\n\n0.5 oz. lime juice\n\nFill with soda on the rocks in a Collins glass.\n\n\"That would have been great\u2014all that money. If, you know, you two hadn't had that fight. Plus, Johnny Depp and Josh Hartnett have signed on to star in it. It's going to be huge.\"\n\nI suppressed the urge to vomit.\n\n\"A couple of years before he died,\" Bottomfeeder interjected, \"Thompson left a couple of crazed messages on the machine, threatening to sue Dan... or shoot him... or maybe both. Something to do with selling out to the Man.\"\n\nSylvia produced a newspaper clipping from her purse. \"Yep,\" she said, reading, \"the writer got a couple hundred grand to adapt that book.\"\n\n\"Dan pissed Hunter off because he has some rich Republican friends, and cuz he drops Hunter's name everywhere,\" Bottomfeeder continued. \"Wait... did you just say a couple hundred grand?\"\n\n\"Yep.\"\n\n\"Wow.\"\n\n\"Damn.\"\n\nAt that I did vomit.\n\n\"Now might not be the best time for this,\" Sylvia said as she wiped the puke from my chin in the alley behind the bar, \"but the reason I came back after all these years is that I've got something to tell you...\"\n\nYou know that moment in a horror movie when the eerie music kicks in? Right before someone gets his head hacked off by a guy in a hockey mask or something nasty like that? Well...\n\n**EXT. ALLEY BEHIND BAR\u2013NIGHT**\n\nSylvia, wiping the vomit from Dan's chin, is about to tell him something. She puts on a hockey mask.\n\nCUE EERIE MUSIC.\n\nSYLVIA: I'm getting married, Dan... to Tommy... you know, your former best friend.\n\nSFX: An ominous sting. Dan bites his lower lip completely off.\n\nSYLVIA: I know this might be a bit of a shocker, but believe me, Tommy and I want nothing more than for you to be okay with this. In fact, we very much want to have your blessing. Which is why Tommy would like you...\n\nDan\u2014lower-lipless, bleeding, and covered in his own waste\u2014tries to throw himself under a PASSING BUS. He misses, and lands in a puddle of MOTOR OIL. Sylvia continues assaulting him with RAZOR-SHARP VERBAL DAGGERS.\n\nSYLVIA (cont'd):... to be his best man.\n\nDan inexplicably begins laughing. Only it doesn't sound much like laughter because of the MISSING LOWER LIP AND THE BLOOD AND THE MOTOR OIL.\n\nSylvia is perplexed.\n\nSYLVIA: Are... are you okay?\n\nMore hysterical laughter.\n\nSYLVIA: Dan?\n\nLaugh, laugh, laugh! Blood and motor oil spewing everywhere.\n\nSYLVIA: Honey, will you... will you be Tommy's best man?\n\nDan suddenly stops laughing, cocks his head, and eyes her suspiciously.\n\nSYLVIA: Will you?\n\nDan reaches to the ground, picks up his lower lip, and miraculously reattaches it.\n\nDAN: I'm gonna need some time... to think.\n\nFADE OUT\n\n\"So she's getting married, and you're still single. Boo-fucking-hoo, brutha. Besides, what's wrong with being single?\" Bottomfeeder asked me as I drowned some blues in **Southern Comfort** at O'Brien's. \"I mean, you're good at it. _Really_ good at it. I think it's the one thing that separates you from ordinary people.\" He had a point... and _that_ certainly didn't make me feel any better about the situation. It's one thing to be lonely in this world; it's quite another to realize that were you _not_ alone, you'd be altogether less interesting.\n\n#   I'm So Hot for Her, but She's SoCo\n\nThey say old habits die hard, but it says here that some old habits\u2014particularly the unhealthy kind\u2014occasionally die over night. Such was the case with my Southern Comfort habit. The spiced whiskey-flavored liqueur bills itself as a \"New Orleans original,\" though these days it's produced and bottled in Louisville, Kentucky. Roll back to the summer of 1995: I was dancing under the stars on the balcony of the Cat's Meow in the Big Easy's French Quarter, having just drained the last of what was undoubtedly not my first Southern Comfort Strawberry Frapp\u00e9 of the evening. And that's when it hit me... the ground. Or, I hit it, rather. Instantly swore off SoCo and the funky chicken forever.\n\nTen years later at a Mardi Gras-themed soiree in Hermosa Beach, Southern Comfort came calling again. Our hostess\u2014and indeed she was the \"mostest\"\u2014served up Southern Hurricanes that bore little resemblance to New Orleans's most celebrated libation. But that's not to say it wasn't dang tasty. So good, in fact, that I took a bottle of SoCo home with me that night\u2013we cuddled and made up; even did a few steps from the funky chicken.\n\n**Southern Hurricane**\n\n1.5 oz Southern Comfort  \nsplash of grenadine  \nlemon-lime soda\n\nFill Hurricane glass with ice. Add all ingredients and stir. Garnish with an orange wedge and a cherry.\n\n\"It's been five years!\" I blurted. \"Five years since that evil woman... no, never mind... I swore I'd never talk about it again.\"\n\nBut I couldn't help it. What she had done\u2014the perfidy of it all!\u2014made me a hard man, and not in the good way. Sylvia had yanked out my heart, thrown it on the floor, and performed a _Lord of the Dance_ number all over it. By the time she was through, my spirit had been broken more than a two-bit club fighter's nose. I became a shell of the man I used to be, which, come to think of it, really wasn't all that much of a man to begin with. And I was haunted by my own improvidence. Sylvia and I had shared what is popularly known as an \"open relationship.\" Ostensibly, an open relationship is one based on mutual respect for individuality and a belief in personal freedom. But all it _really_ meant was that both of us were free to screw around on each other. Had I been the one who'd decided we should have an open relationship, everything would have been dandy. I wasn't, though, because I'm the old-fashioned type who figures if you really respect somebody in a relationship then you ought to have the decency to sneak around and keep your cheating to yourself.\n\n\"I think I'd like to keep things wide open,\" Sylvia had told me at the beginning of our doomed dalliance, and she made no real mention that \"things\" included those long legs of hers. And at first I was all for it. I figured I'd be able to indulge my primal male hunter-gatherer urges guilt-free, _and_ still have a steady, attractive date lined up for Saturday nights. Men invented the concept of the open relationship for this very reason: to have our cake... and eat lots of other people's cakes, too! The problem was that I had quickly grown to love the cake I had with Sylvia. A few weeks into our arrangement, I started wondering\u2014obsessing over, actually\u2014who, besides me, might be sampling her icing. All at once, Jealousy, Insecurity, and Lame Metaphors began rearing their ugly heads. And so it was that I made my way into a crowded bar one night to calm my nerves with Strong Drink, and noticed a cute couple snuggling in a booth across the way. That's when I discovered the excruciating downside of the open relationship.\n\n\"Sylvia, what in the name of Jack fucking Daniels are you doing with my best friend?\" I shrieked.\n\nThat was Tommy Barnard,* a pilot I had met when I was stationed in **Venezuela** with the Merchant Marine.* Tommy and I had a lot of common interests, such as going out drinking, staying in drinking, and... well, assorted... other... things... like drinking. I'd tell you more about Tommy Barnard, but then I'd be breaking yet another vow\u2014the one about never speaking his cursed name again\u2014and I WILL stick to my vow never to break more than two vows in a single chapter.\n\n#   Cha-Cha-Cha Cacha\u00e7a!\n\nAt this writing, I'm reminded that America's reigning pulpit-pounding crackpot, Pat Robertson, recently upset many of the folks in Venezuela by suggesting in no uncertain terms that we send assassins down there to kill their president. Now, some might say that's just Pat being Pat\u2014in the past the septuagenarian _700 Club_ founder has, after all, compared left-leaning citizens of this country to Nazis; claimed that the feminist movement encourages women to kill their children, practice witchcraft, and become lesbians; and accused little Halloween trick-or-treaters of Satanism... and nobody here really seems to care all that much.\n\nVenezuela's best-known export is Angostura Bitters, which doesn't lend itself towarm-weather cocktails, so allow me to instead suggest something from neighboring Brazil: cacha\u00e7a (pronounced KUH-shah-suh), the rum-like spirit that is the key ingredient in the refreshing caipirinha. The name translates roughly to \"farmers drink\", but the caipirinha has outgrown its bumpkin beginnings and become quite popular in trendy Big City establishments.\n\nMade with lime, sugar, and two ounces of cacha\u00e7a\u2014Beliza Pura is an outstanding brand\u2014the key to a great caipirinha is in the muddling. Place eight lime wedges pulp-side up in a glass and sprinkle with sugar. With a pestle, use mild pressure and a twisting motion to release the juice in the flesh, not crushing the skin, which is high in unwanted bitter oils. And as Pat Robertson would no doubt attest, the only thing worse than a bitter caipirinha is a pack of liberal lesbo devil-kids coming to your door begging for sweets.\n\nAfter Sylvia left with that back-stabbing louche ex-friend who shall remain nameless, I launched into an aberrant mode of behavior: for the rest of the evening, when I wasn't pounding beers at the bar, I attempted to utilize those fabricated stories, pitiable pick-up lines, and sultry facial expressions I had foolishly convinced myself amounted to personality, in the desperate hope that I'd meet someone else, too. It didn't happen. What did happen was that in a relatively short period of time I managed to make a raging ass of myself, ensuring that for the rest of the evening women avoided me like a second-string Junior Varsity defensive back with bad skin. Then, sometime around 2 A.M., I burst into my apartment, picked up the phone, and called that person I thought was my girlfriend\u2014determined to tell her how I _really_ felt. She wasn't home. She was probably still foreplaying with Tom, er... THAT GUY!\n\nUh-oh. In a night littered with poor decisions on my part, I made yet another dubious move. I left a message: \"Where are you, Sylvia? Could you actually be spending the night with that asshole? That lamp-post licker with the off-the-rack wardrobe and red Miata? Don't you realize what a hideous mistake you're making? Don't you know how much cooler I am than him? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME??!!\"To add indignity to disaster, all of her girlfriends would get to listen to my psycho-babble, as it was permanently saved on her answering machine. She would play it over and over again\u2014inviting friends by to hear it, posting it on the Internet, and calling random social workers in places like Ohio who made poor second-generation tapes to play on their way to work at the Volunteer Center. In one disastrous evening, I'd lost my girl, my best bud, and my dignity. Had it not been for my ol' pal beer, well, I don't know what I would have remembered. Then I moved to California to start over.\n\n\"Here's what I think, Dan,\" Bottomfeeder offered. \"A relationship is like the inside of a jar of paste. Even with the lid securely fastened, it's sticky and hard to handle. Leave it open, and it'll quickly harden and become useless.\"\n\nBottomfeeder was right, of course. (Twice in one day\u2014no doubt a record that may never be broken.) I wanted to tell him more about Sylvia and me. I wanted to tell him that despite her cheatin' ways, she was the most intriguing woman I'd ever met. I wanted to tell him about the way she walked. And the way she wore her hair. And, well, about the sweet, sweet love we had made.\n\n\"Hey, man,\" I said, tossing an arm around his shoulder. \"Let's play darts.\"\n\nSome things are better left unsaid.\n\nIn my nonage, I did the majority of my underage drinking in the dark alleys and on the dirty street corners of Philadelphia. As I got older\u2014you know, sixteen or so\u2014the party moved from the street to the local VFW Hall, where on any given weekend night hundreds of rowdy neighborhood teens would drink themselves oblivious at a festivity known as a Beef & Beer.\n\nNow, for those of you who have never experienced a Beef & Beer\u2014and I'm assuming that to be pretty much everyone who _didn't_ grow up in Philly, because, like cheesesteaks and communities comprised entirely of extraordinarily obese people, it's a regional phenomenon\u2014all you really need to know is that B&Bs were good, clean fun. We drank a lot, fought a little, and on the good nights got to play tonsil hockey with a big-haired cheerleader or two. The cops left us alone because damn near every kid in the neighborhood was related to a cop, and because the guys who ran the B&Bs invariably left a \"spare\" keg outside for the boys in blue to enjoy down at the station.\n\nThey don't do Beef & Beers in L.A. I'm sure they never have. And it's a safe bet that the teenagers in Philly don't have'em anymore either, but since I'm in L.A. now, and an adult (or so my ID says), and this story is about something that happened four years ago, well... Christ, am I off on a tangent here or what?\n\nMy point is this: four years ago, raves were all the rage with kids. I don't know why these parties were called that, because from what I witnessed at the one and only rave I've ever been to, nobody seemed to be talking with any real enthusiasm. In fact, nobody was talking much at all; they were too dazed, and _definitely_ too confused. If you ask me, instead of \"raves\" they should have called'em \"Ecstasy & Evians,\" as that's what every pimply-faced kid I encountered seemed to be ingesting.\n\n\"Isn't this great?\" Sylvia yelled. Or maybe she said, \"I'm in first grade.\" The DJ\u2014who called himself Logic Bomb\u2014had the music amped up to such earsplitting levels that he made the sound man for the Who look like a freakin' pussy.\n\n\"Maybe you should go talk to Tommy,\" she screamed. \"I think he's upset.\"\n\nSylvia, in her dementia\u2014and that is the fairest term I could find to describe the woman's thought processes\u2014had decided to \"reunite\" me with my former best friend Tommy, her then-fianc\u00e9, at a rave. She thought it would be a \"super cool and relaxing\" place for us to hash out our differences\u2014the first and foremost being that I wanted, more than anything, for Tommy to be dead.\n\n\"Don't you think he looks upset?\" she hollered, gesturing toward Tommy, who was bobbing his head numbly, utterly rapt by the condensation on his Evian bottle.\n\n\"He's not upset,\" I howled above the din, \"he's on E!\"\n\n_\"Ornery?_ What makes you think he's ornery?\" she shrieked.\n\n\"He's not ornery... he's _on E!_ \"\n\n\"Well, of course he's lonely. You're ignoring him!\"\n\n\"Sylvia\"\u2014and I was now bellowing in her ear\u2014\"I can't do this!\"\n\n\"I know you're _cartoonish_... that's what I always loved about you! That's what Tommy always loved about you. Look at him over there; he's a mess without you.\"\n\nTommy was rolling around on the floor, wrestling with what appeared to be a large glow stick.\n\n\"You _are_ going to be his best man, aren't you, Dan?\"\n\nI was about to tell her I'd rather dip my freshly shaved ass in jalape\u00f1o sauce.\n\n\"It'll be fun... and you'll get to plan his bachelor party.\"\n\n\"Look, Sylvia,\" I screamed, \"I'm flattered and all, but I just can't... wait, did you just say I get to plan his bachelor party? Or was it 'Hugo owns a spatula named Artie?'\"\n\nSylvia looked at me as though I were crazy. And suddenly I was: crazy with ideas about how to make Tommy's bachelor party a night NONE of us would ever forget. Hell, I knew hookers\u2014still do\u2014most of whom have several nasty diseases. And I know of sex clubs in seedy neighborhoods. The kind of places where a bachelor might go for his last piece of premarital ass, and leave wrapped in trash bags in the trunk of some gangbanger's hoopty.\n\nAs Best Man and Master of Bachelor Party Ceremonies, I would be in complete control of my ol' pal Tommy for one glorious night that would certainly spell the end of his and Sylvia's unholy union. Ahh... Revenge... what a sweet, seductive mistress you appear!\n\n\"You sure this place is safe, dude?\" Tommy asked nervously as we made our way to the secret back room at Chuck Shmitt's Knuckle Lounge and Strip-A-Torium.* \"A lot of these people look like they should be in prison.\"\n\nIt was just like Tommy to be afraid of a few hookers and recently paroled hit men. From the moment I met the guy in Kent's Pub* outside of London, I knew he was what the British refer to as a \"poofter.\" Hell, even Darby, the heavily tattooed and pierced barkeep at Kent's, agreed with me. And if the wimpy Brits think you're soft, you've got a Valium's chance in Anna Nicole Smith's late medicine cabinet of surviving the secret back room at Chuck Shmitt's Knuckle Lounge and Strip-A-Torium in El Segundo.\n\nHell, if it hadn't been for me and my AK-47, Tommy the Poofter would never even have made it out of that Venezuelan brothel,* and it's for damn sure he never would have gotten an honorable discharge from the Merchant Marine. But hell, those are other stories for other times. Especially with Glenda the Dirty Ho scheduled to arrive in just a few short minutes.\n\n_A few short minutes later..._\n\nIt's one thing to have others refer to you as a Dirty Ho; it's quite another to introduce yourself thusly. And then it's another thing altogether to have the unsavory moniker stitched on the lapel of your motorcycle-gang jacket.\n\n\"Tommy, I'd like you to meet\u2014\"\n\n\"Glenda the Dirty Ho?\" He seemed a bit, um, surprised.\n\n\"So you can read\u2014congratulations!\" Glenda spat as Tommy stared incredulously at the dangerously chaotic voluptuousness that forms the most infamous call girl in all of Southern California. \"But can you work the thrill drill, Sparky?\"\n\nThen, before he could utter a word, she dragged him into the back room.\n\n\"Have fun, Tommy!\" I yelled after them. \"She's my bachelor party present to you!\"\n\nI figured there was no point in mentioning that I'd paid Glenda the Dirty Ho to kill my former best friend Tommy; he'd find out in a few moments.\n\n_A few moments later..._\n\nGlenda the Dirty Ho emerged from the back room, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Despite his pooftericity, Tommy must have been a tough kill.\n\n\"Whatcha do with the body, Glenda?\"\n\n\"Well, first I put his cock in my mouth\u2014\"\n\n\"Wait, wait, wait.... You didn't have to screw him before you killed 'em. I'm not paying extra for that!\"\n\n\"I didn't kill him,\" Glenda said in a gentle, womanly tone I'd never imagined I'd hear coming from the harsh likes of a grizzled biker ho. \"We fell in love. He's out back on my Harley waitin' for me. He wanted me to tell you thanks, and goodbye.\"\n\nAnd I didn't know whether to shit or go blind... so I did both... or at least it felt as though I did. Then I called Bottomfeeder and told him I needed him at Chuck Shmitt's, pronto.\n\n\"I think the J. Geils Band really nailed it when they sang 'Love Stinks.' Man, ain't that the truth?\" Bottomfeeder mumbled through a mouthful of pretzels and beer. Yeah, and ain't that the first J. Geils Band reference I've heard in, oh, about fifteen years?* And hey, bar-keep, could you pour me another shot of Jim Beam, please?\n\n\"Here's what I think you should do when Sylvia gets here...\" Bottomfeeder continued.\n\nOh, boy! Just what I'd been hoping for.\n\n\"You see, Dan,\" my alleged best friend went on, \"there are all kinds of farters in the world. There are the honest ones that admit they farted, but offer good medical reasons; the dishonest kind that fart and then blame the dog; and then there are the strategic farters who conceal their farts with loud coughing. Finally, there are the unfortunate ones who try awfully hard to fart but crap themselves instead.... You see what I'm getting at?\"\n\n\"No! No! No! No! No! No! WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU GETTING AT, MAN?!!\" If there's a more cryptic individual in the universe, I haven't met him or her.\n\n\"What I'm getting at is, if you're a dishonest farter, you're gonna get caught in a stinkin' lie,\" Bottomfeeder said coolly. \"This whole business with Tommy and Glenda the Dirty Ho is like a nasty fart: it stinks. But you gotta tell Sylvia the truth, no matter how bad it is.\"\n\nAnd somehow, some way, that malodorous riddle of Bottomfeeder's made perfect sense.\n\n_Four hours later..._\n\n\"Sometimes I think it would be great to be a man,\" Sylvia slurred, her lips numbed by one too many pain-killing Sloe Gin Fizzes. \"You can open all your own jars, people never stare at your chest when you're talking to them, wrinkles add character, the same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades, and best of all you can silently watch a game with a buddy for hours without thinking, 'He must be mad at me.'\"\n\n\"Um, Sylvia, are... are you okay?\" I asked apprehensively.\n\n\"You mean besides the fact that my fianc\u00e9 just ran off with something called Bimbo the Stinking Slut...\"\n\n\"Glenda the Dirty Ho,\" I corrected her.\n\n\"Yeah, whatever... well, besides that I guess I'm... I'm... WAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!\"\n\nI hugged her tightly, muffling her ululations. Not out of concern, necessarily\u2014I was, after all, reveling in her pain\u2014it was just that any loud noise at Chuck Shmitt's usually led to trouble.\n\n\"Ohhhh, I hate that Tommy,\" Sylvia wailed. \"He's such a... a... piece of... foreskin!\"\n\nForeskin? Well, I had to admit that was a new one.\n\n\"You ever wonder what happens to the foreskin after a circumcision?\" Bottomfeeder mused. \"Do they just throw it away?\"\n\nI had myself always figured how cool it would be if, like, they kept it for later. You know, so someday when the guys were sitting around drinking beers, playing poker, and comparing battle scars a guy would be like, \"Yeah, so I got this scar on my leg playing rugby in college.\" Then another guy would go, \"That's nothing; I busted all ten of my fingers at an underground fight club.\" Finally, another one would whip out his foreskin, slap it on the table, and say, \"Back off, chumps! When I was a baby some dude lopped off half my schwantz... and I barely cried.\"\n\nInstead, I said, \"Jesus, man! Show a little sensitivity! Poor Sylvia here just had to call off her wedding, for chrissakes!\" And then I had to fight hard to suppress a grin.\n\nIt was done. The wedding was off. Tommy was gone. Sylvia was back. And I was...I was...oh...no...\n\nI WAS STUCK WITH HER\u2014AGAIN!!!!!\n\n_____________\n\n* Good for what ails anyone suffering from severe heartache: 1 1\/2 oz. Johnnie Walker Red Scotch whisky, a 1\/2 oz. Rosso vermouth, and a 1\/2 oz. Yellow Chartreuse. Stir the ingredients into a rocks glass three-quarters filled with ice.\n\n* Not his real name, but it might as well have been.\n\n* Not really, but it makes for a better story.\n\n* It's since been shut down and replaced by Starbucks... two of them.\n\n* Also now a Starbucks.\n\n* Recently converted to a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf.\n\n* The J. Geils Band, which broke up in 1985, scored a massive hit with \"Centerfold\" in 1981. The track's risqu\u00e9 video proved a revelation to an entire generation of horny teenaged boys, me among them, who for the very first time realized the full masturbatory possibilities of MTV. Madonna came along shortly thereafter and nearly killed us all.\n\n# Step 8\n\n# Chick Drinks and the Men Who Drink Them\n\nThe woman in the apartment directly across from mine has a thirteen-year-old daughter, and most days after school the girl and several of her friends gather to do what newly teenaged girls like to do most: yak. And squeal. And shriek. And make noises akin to what I imagine it would sound like if Michael Jackson were to be violated by a mule.* And these girls do this at decibel levels that make roaring jet engines seem like white noise. Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe\u2014the guys who wrote \"Thank Heaven for Little Girls\"* weren't living next to one while they were penning that saccharine ditty, because if they had been, I can assure you they'd have changed their tune. \"Thank Heaven for Birth Control,\" perhaps?\n\nDon't get me wrong\u2014I like teenage girls, if only because they're so close to growing up into **women.** And I love women at least as passionately as L.A. cops hate camcorders. But until they're of legal age, well, frankly I just don't have much use for them. And when I'm on deadline and the teenyboppers are in full screech, well, they can just kiss mah grits!\n\n#   Three for the Ladies\n\nHere are a few libations aimed at those on the distaff side who have\u2014thank heaven\u2014attained womanhood:\n\n**Barbie Shot**\n\nSure, it sounds like an out-and-out chick drink, but men dig 'em plenty.\n\n1 oz. Malibu rum\n\n1 oz. vodka\n\n1 oz. cranberry juice\n\n1 oz. orange juice\n\nCombine all ingredients in an ice-filled shaker. Shake, chill, and strain it into a cocktail glass.\n\n**Absolut Sex**\n\nThe name isn't the only alluring thing about this one.\n\n1 oz. Absolut Kurant\n\n1 oz. Midori melon liqueur\n\n1 oz. cranberry juice Same serving procedure as above, with a splash of lemon-lime soda added on top.\n\n**The Startini**\n\nA major meteor shower passed through our solar system a while back, and wouldn't you know that the folks at Mo\u00ebt Hennessy came up with a few champagne cocktails to toast the bright lights in the sky. You gotta hand it to the promotions people in the wine and spirits industry, who seem to have a limitless capacity to exploit special (and not so special) events in order to sell more hootch. Christmas, Easter, Kwanzaa, the season premiere of Dancing with the Stars... just name the occasion, and there have likely been scores of cleverly named cocktails created to celebrate it. Having a Super Bowl party? Break out the Hail Mary Margaritas! They're drafting a constitution in Iraq? Try a Baghdad Bomber or a delicious Fallujah Fizz! It's that time of the month again, eh? Well... you get the picture.\n\n0.5 oz. vodka  \nlemonsorbet  \nMo\u00ebt Nectar Imp\u00e9rial\n\nAdd a spoonful of sorbet to a martini glass and stir in the vodka. Fill the glass with the champagne.\n\nFor instance, I'd intended this section to elucidate the memory-enhancing powers of sage and its usefulness in combating the effects of Mind Erasers,* but the cacophonic cabal next door has been running sonic interference for going on two hours now, and I find myself getting sucked into their myriad meaningless debates... which seem to be raging all at once: Who's hotter\u2014Zac Efron or Dylan Sprouse? Is Miley Cyrus for real, and does she have the staying power of Ashlee Simpson? Which Olsen twin is cooler? And\u2014my favorite\u2014does smoking make your boobs bigger?\n\nThese are the issues that challenge young girls in these troubled times, and quite frankly, I'm very alarmed by the trend. After all, any idiot knows that Zac is waaaaay cutest, and that Miley has more talent in her push-up bra than Ashlee has in her whole body. As for the Olsens, they're, like, totally 2005. And smoking doesn't enhance the chest, girls, but it will make the boys think you're easy, so fire up those Camel Lights.\n\nAs I finished that last sentence, I heard one of the girls complain about the \"gruel\" served in her school cafeteria. Now, I don't imagine she meant it literally, but her remark did get me to thinking: I bet gruel wouldn't be all that bad if it simply wasn't called \"gruel.\" What if it were called \"sugar-yummy\" instead? Can't imagine you'd hear many people complain about getting a bowl of \"sugar-yummy,\" no matter how shitty it tasted. If I were over in my neighbor's condo hanging with the girls right now, I'd raise this point\u2014perhaps even suggest we start a campaign down at the middle school to have gruel officially renamed. Not that they'd care, because in the time it took me to preserve the thought, the girls had already moved on to a more pressing matter: should they go to the mall, or stay in and paint their nails?\n\n\"Mall!\" I screamed, like I'd suddenly come down with Tourrette's Syndrome.\n\nThen there was dead silence... followed by a complete hush, and finally, no sound whatsoever.\n\n\"Who was that?\" one of them eventually whispered, loud enough for me to hear.\n\n\"I think it's my creepy neighbor,\" the girl next door replied. \"He's into botany.\"\n\nAt this, they sniggered en masse.\n\n\"How _old_ is he?\" another one hissed.\n\n\"OLD! Like, he listens to Guns & Roses and plays golf and wears clogs and stuff!\"\n\nMore sniggering, along with a smattering of titters.\n\nI was beside myself, because Tiger Woods plays golf and nobody accuses him of being a **geezer.** As for the clogs, well, that's complete bunk\u2014I don't wear clogs! They're authentic Dutch wooden shoes that my friend Gijsbert shipped over from Rotterdam. And I only wear them on Sundays when I go to the market to buy sage, and... and... and Guns & Roses rocks and... who are they calling _old?_ I'm as spry as, well, as anyone can be who actually uses words like \"spry.\"\n\n#   We Thank You for Your Support Bra\n\nWhile we're on the subject of getting old, it's hard to believe it's been twenty-two years since Bartles & Jaymes Premium Wine Coolers first hit the shelves. Fueled by a popular TV ad campaign featuring two countrified old gents who were mighty dang appreciative of the drinking public's support, B&J quickly became the world's number-one-selling brand. Then, almost as quickly, people stopped buying wine coolers, and Ed (the quiet one) and Frank (the guy who did the thanking) went the way of Lionel Richie chart-toppers, Jordache jeans, and Pac-Man.\n\nBut like my senile grandmother, history tends to repeat itself, and in recent years Bartles & Jaymes has made a bit of a comeback. Truth is, their coolers are pretty damn tasty and not nearly as emasculating a retro-malt-beverage as, say, Zima. The stuff's cheap, too, and comes in twelve cocktail-inspired flavors, including such '80s staples as the Fuzzy Navel and Pi\u00f1a Colada. What, no Alabama Slammer?\n\n\"You kids better keep it down over there or I'll call the cops!\" I found myself shouting out the window while simultaneously bemoaning my inability to recall the lyrics to \"Sweet Child O' Mine.\" Clearly, I'm not getting enough sage in my diet.\n\n\"And I'm not _old,_ girls,\" I continued, \"I just don't like noise when I've got work to do and bills to pay and my back is aching\u2014and is it 'She's got eyes of the bluest skies' or 'eyes of the blues guys'? Boy, has it really been _eighteen years_ since that song was released? Seems like yesterday.\"\n\nThe girls, incidentally, had already left for the mall, where they would no doubt be yapping loudly about things such as Daniel Radcliffe's cuddliness factor. Too bad I couldn't join them. It was for the best anyway, cuz what did they know? Old? _Me?_ Old, my ass! I was just a little out of sorts because I still had deadlines hanging over me. I figured I'd better fix myself a glass of warm milk, soak my feet, and watch some _Murder She Wrote._ That'd make me feel better.\n\nThen again, maybe those girls were on to something.... You see, just last week I pulled a muscle in my back. The injury itself was distressing enough, as my threshold for pain is lower than the IQ of most blonde porn stars. The thing is, it wasn't the nagging pain in my lower back that troubled me the most, it was _how_ it got there. It was _how_ I hurt myself.\n\nI did it yawning.\n\nOn the way home from my weekly Mon-Khmer lesson* I had occasion to stop and reflect upon life, and in that moment of quiet reverie I involuntarily opened my mouth wide and breathed in deeply... and that's when something suddenly \"popped\" slightly to the north of my butt crack.\n\nWhen I was a young man\u2014say, thirty-five\u2014I had a swaggering aura about me underscored by a sense of invincibility. I could run fast, jump high, party hard, and make love like a porn star (insert your own IQ zinger here). When you're a young man, the world is your raw oyster, and it's just waiting for you to slurp it down whole, with a cold beer chaser. When you're a young man, you feel as indomitable as a Roger Clemens fastball. And then one day, the simple act of yawning becomes too much for your body to handle. That's the day you cease to be a young man ingesting bivalve mollusks to put the carnal ocean in motion. That's the day you're reduced to tossing weak, Charlie Hough-like knucklers. That's the day you first notice the shadow of a Social Security check creeping across the lawn. That day, you get old. Floored by this realization, I did what everybody in Hollywood does in the midst of a personal crisis: I called my agent.\n\n\"I'M OLD!\" I howled. \"I just hurt myself yawning!\"\n\n\"Have you told anyone else yet?\" my agent replied, his voice tinged with panic.\n\n\"Uh...no...why?\"\n\nHe breathed an audible sigh of relief. \"Whatever you do, DON'T LET ANYONE KNOW YOU'RE OLD!\" he shouted. \"In this business, you get old, you die.\"\n\nI blanched, then did what everybody in Hollywood does when an agent starts dispensing specious counsel: I hung up and went to **Starbucks.***\n\n#   An Open Letter to Howard Schultz, Chairman and Chief Global Strategist, Starbucks\n\n_(The following note was composed several years ago, prior to my Starbucks conversion.)_\n\nDear Howard:\n\nI'd ask how you're doing, but I think we both know the answer to that already, don't we? Damn, dawg, 6,500 Starbucks stores worldwide, and counting. That's a helluva lot of caramel macchiatos, isn't it? I mean, seriously, we've got, like, two or three hundred of the goddamn places here in Santa Monica alone. Oops, sorry... I cussed. You'll have to forgive me, it's just that... well, Howie, it's just that I've got a bit of a bone to pick with Starbucks. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. Truth is, I FUCKING HATE STARBUCKS!!!\n\nThere, I said it. I FUCKING HATE STARBUCKS! Again, Howie, I apologize for the off-color language, because I realize you may very well be an upstanding guy with strong family values, ties to all the right charities, and the whole bag of worms. But it feels SO GOOD to finally share my feelings with you. No kidding, man, I hold Starbucks in the same esteem as pop-up Internet ads, telemarketers, and aggressive meter maids. Given a choice between a lifetime supply of Starbucks coffee and a wicked case of West Nile Virus, I say, \"Bring on the mosquitos.\"\n\nNow, you're probably thinking that my lack of Pure Love for Starbucks comes down to some lefty political leanings or heartfelt concerns about mom-and-pop coffeehouses going the way of Britney Spears's career. But you're wrong. I don't give a flying frappuccino if your beans come from shade-grown, fair-trade fields where they're picked exclusively by virgins under a full moon. Nor do I give a damn if you drive every washed-up hippie out of the mild-but-legal stimulant game and back into University Studies where they belong. No, my friend, I hate Starbucks because of your customers.\n\nEspecially those with unmonitored car alarms who park under my window every morning. That's right\u2014I live next to one of your Starbucks (and at the current rate of expansion, one of every three buildings in the Developed World will be a Starbucks in about 22.3 years, give or take a week). What the hell do these people need with a keyless entry that blows the horn when they lock the door? Is their Volvo-separation anxiety so great they need that reassurance? Is it because the car can't actually wave goodbye as they head into the damn caffeine den? And, judging by the lot below my window, it is YOUR CUSTOMERS who are responsible for the continued existence of the Swedish auto industry. How do you live with that on your conscience?\n\nYes, I know them well, those decaf-swilling early risers who apparently don't understand that some mornings \"quiet time\" needs to extend into the early afternoon. It's been years since they have been out until 4:30 A.M. quaffing adult beverages and then suffering through the intensity of superhuman-hearing hangovers\u2014those hangovers that amplify the sound of their damn alarms to the point where it's like being inside the amps at a Gwar concert.\n\nSo there you have it. Get rid of the customers and we've got no problem. Hell, some of my best friends are suppliers of stimulants! But my guess is that you won't budge on that one, Howie. So I'm gonna sit here and train pigeons to shit on the hoods of those shiny mommy-mobiles, and I'm gonna stick pins into a voodoo doll crafted from those wrap-around heat shields that keep those tender fingers from touching the cup. My printer is cranking out \"Free Starbucks Coffee\" fliers that I'm gonna hand out to homeless people this afternoon, and then I'll stop by a real diner for some non-designer java. Thanks for your time, and for indulging this cathartic rant, which for me turned out to be good to the very last drop.\n\nHow did I get so soft? I wondered while sipping a frothy triple caramel macchiato. It seemed like only yesterday that I was strong and virile. I'd spent a lifetime doing things a hell of a lot more strenuous than yawning, and not once had I ever come up lame. It dawned on me that I needed to get in shape. I figured the best way to do so was to resume my cardiovascular routine. The problem was that I couldn't quite remember what that routine entailed. Then I remembered: I never _had_ a cardiovascular routine. Caffeine and cigarettes kept me thin in college.\n\nPerhaps it was too late, anyway. When yawns precipitate back spasms, it augurs an impending respite on a mortician's slab. Surely my post-mortem corporeal decomposition cycle had gotten off to an early start. At any moment, a sneeze could cause my spleen to rupture. One bad case of the hiccups and I'm done for. In the end, I decided I wasn't getting enough Starbucks products in my diet. Caffeine, after all, is a stimulant that wards off yawning. In fact, sipping my second frothy triple caramel macchiato of the day, I began to feel like a million bucks again. So I did what everybody in Hollywood does when they're thinking millions: I started writing a screenplay. Tentatively titled _The Old Man and the Sea of Hip-Hoppers,_ my script chronicles the adventures of a feeble thirtysomething scribe who reconnects with his youth by getting tattooed and pierced beyond recognition. My agent loves the concept\u2014he thinks we can get Tracy Nelson to sign on to play the female lead.\n\nAnd I've gotten serious about reversing the process of my deteriorating physical condition. Fisher hooked me up with a psychotherapist\/exercise physiologist named Gar who recommended that I spend less time yawning and more time focusing on physical activities that stimulate me, such as baseball. So I went to a Dodgers game, and my back never felt better.\n\nBe forewarned: I write angry when I'm tired, and I'm writing this at a most ungodly hour when damn near everyone else, save convenience store clerks and speed freaks, is fast asleep under the covers, dreaming about Johnny Depp... and yeah, I mean the guys too! The Depp thing reminds me of something I learned once from a Kentucky woman drinking something called a Sloe Gin Fizz:* there are two final stages to a sexual relationship\u2014the part where you wish\/imagine your partner is somebody much better looking and glamorous than she is, and the final-final part where you wish\/imagine YOU are somebody much better looking and glamorous than you are.\n\nSo I should be asleep, but I'm wide awake, partly because I still put stock in such old-fashioned journalistic principles as meeting deadlines, and partly because I'm still hung up on the whole getting-old thing. But mostly I'm wide awake due to the strident late-night vocal stylings of _yet_ _another_ troublesome neighbor, who henceforth will spitefully be referred to as the Screamer, who performs with a percussion accompaniment best described as headboard bongos. Just as I wrote this she hit a note higher than any I've heard since my cousin Dennis had that bicycle-seat incident on Moab's Slickrock Trail. That was followed by a scream that sounded for all the world like the remixed screech of a misadjusted fan belt combined with that sound a dial-up modem makes when it hits connection pay dirt.\n\nThe Screamer just moved in recently, and Bottomfeeder saw her first. After he told me she was a serious JAPA (\"Jessica Alba\u2013like Piece of Ass\"), I spent countless hours patrolling the corridor hoping to bump into her. Yes, ladies, most of us really are that pathetic, and the fine line between \"chance encounter\" and \"stalking\" can be no more than a question of timing and style. Oh, and in case you're wondering how Sylvia might play into this, for now let's just say she split almost as abruptly as she'd reappeared. I'll offer more on this development later in the book.\n\nSo I wound up welcoming the Screamer to the neighborhood and giving her a quick rundown of its amenities\u2014as if occasionally being able to find street parking within five blocks of the building qualifies as an amenity\u2014and I may have made a joke or two about the steep penalty for being late with the rent.... Geez, I gotta get some new material.\n\nTruth is, I didn't know what in the world I actually said to the gal when we first met because throughout the entire conversation what I was really listening to was the little voice in my head\u2014the one I call Cyrano de Brainiac, who feeds smooth lines to my subconscious... carefully crafted lines that damn near always net me a game of mattress hockey. I think some of the words asked if her necklace was handmade, because it sure looked much like some tribal crafts I'd seen in Bora Bora that time Sting* hosted the mountain-climbing party... stuff like that.\n\nBut alas, not even Cyrano could put that puck in play. And it had everything to do with what transpired at the End of my conversation with the Screamer, which I remember quite well. It went like this:\n\nMe: \"So, maybe after you get settled in and all, I could officially welcome you to the neighborhood by buying you a drink.\n\nThere's a great little karaoke bar up the street. You can't beat the Anchor Steam* on tap, and I do a pretty mean rendition of 'Satisfaction.'\"\n\nHer: \"That sounds great...\"\n\n... _She lied._ At least I think she was lying. She had to be, cuz chicks don't drink Anchor Steam; it's too heavy for them. As far as I can tell, women in the twenty-first century have abandoned beer altogether in favor of crap such as vodka mixed with **Red Bull.** Still, I like to throw that out as a test reel\u2014to see if they bite regardless. If they do, I'm \"in\" like a Madonna record at a gay bar. But you get the point: chick says yes to an Anchor Steam while you butcher a Stones classic, and she's digging you something proper. Unless, of course...\n\n#   Red Bull-shit\n\nI'm no fan of mixing Red Bull or any other barely legal stimulant with vodka, because I've found the resulting cocktails not only taste like soiled toilet paper, but may also send misleading signals about my sexuality (technically, I'm what the doctors call \"frigid\"). In the past, this energy-drink aversion has proved problematic whenever I've been out on the town tippling and in serious need of a quick jolt of energy. And before you even go there, bear in mind that I'm unequivocally opposed to drug use these days, having barely survived five punishing years living in a decadent resort town where certain narcotics are so prevalent it was not uncommon to find some of the seedier local businesses closed for snow days during the most sweltering dog days of summer.\n\nSo just imagine how excited I felt to discover p.i.n.k., the world's first 80-proof vodka infused with caffeine and Guarana. Named for the Guarani tribe in Brazil, where the plant that yields it is found in abundance, Guarana is a berry that when consumed affects the body like caffeine laced with speed. Many people believe it cures headaches and induces weight loss, and the Guarani have been using it for centuries to combat bowel disease. Okay, so who's ready for a Cosmo?\n\nA company rep told me that p.i.n.k.'s unusual spelling hints at a secret that has to do with the process of removing the dark color and bitter flavor from the Guarana. Eh, whatever... the bottom line is, p.i.n.k. compares favorably with other premium vodkas in taste and price, and it's a godsend for buzz-seekers who can't stomach Red Bull. Plus, if the Guarani are correct, drinking it might forestall that awful day when Depends undergarments become de rigueur.\n\nHer: \"Do you mind if my boyfriend comes along?\"\n\n_You're Fucking-A right I do! What do I look like, the damn Welcome Wagon?_\n\nMe: Boyfriend? No... I mean, sure, bring him along... but I've gotta get going now... something's... wrong... with... the... parking. I'll, um, call you about that beer sometime.\n\nWith that I retreated back into the apartment, a defeated man. But I got over it. Until that night, that is. That night I discovered that not only was the Screamer's boyfriend inconveniently* still alive, he was apparently packing more beef stick than a Hickory Farms factory worker. Either that, or he was doing things most men hadn't even _considered_ yet. It was the only explanation for the sound he made her make when she came\u2014a three-minute refrain that sounded like maybe three hundred cats fighting in a giant sack.\n\nSo maybe making a play on the Screamer is worth rethinking, despite her JAPA status. Sure, she sounds like a real hellcat in the sack, but I live next door\u2014a hook-up could only lead to big trouble. Instead, I may just hook six or seven digital mikes to my wall, download the sounds of her sexual escapades to my laptop, and lay down a few rap lyrics.\n\nAs this chapter is supposed to be about the Ladies, I'm willing to share some very personal information with you regarding my mating philosophy: although I desire women at least as passionately as George Hamilton craves sunshine, and have over the years connected with some breathtakingly stone-cold foxes, my on again\u2013off again girlfriend Sylvia among them, never once have I seriously considered getting **married.** And I doubt I ever will. I don't particularly have anything against the institution, mind you, it's just that I don't believe I've yet squeezed all the enjoyment out of the Bachelor Life and that continuing to do so may turn out to be a lifelong endeavor. Being a raffish single dude is a real gas, and I plan on riding it out until the thrill is gone... if indeed that day ever comes. Granted, there was a time when I began to grow weary of the redundancy of the pick-up process. Pretending to enjoy Oprah _and_ Ellen just so women might deem me sensitive had gotten old. Embellishing my career and lying about my income turned a bore. Ditto on recycling tarradiddles about the places I'd been and the famous people I knew. As for feigning interest in their lives, well, that became unbearably dull. Things got so bad that most nights I could barely muster the energy to get off the barstool and comb the environs for the easiest drunk gal in the place. Desperate for a change of pace, I experimented with a variety of novel ways to score dates. First I gave honesty a try, which as you can no doubt imagine yielded disastrous results. The Real Me just isn't all that desirable, no matter how much alcohol is involved. Playing hard to get didn't pan out either, because that strategy calls for a woman with a desire to get me in the first place. I came up empty with Internet dating as well, mostly because the \"F\" key on my laptop has a tendency to stick.\n\n#   Married Guy's Day Out\n\nNo matter how \"happily married\" a guy purports to be, my research has shown that there are times when it is impossible for even the most uxorious hubby to escape his inner frat boy. When that happens, at best the Married Guy (MG) escapes with a nasty hangover and the nagging suspicion that his wife thinks he's a buffoon. At worst, those moments prove a prelude to divorce. Here's how the typical \"Married Guys day out\" scenario might play:\n\n10:15 A.M.\u2014 MG kisses his wife lovingly as she heads off to yoga class. He promises he won't drink too many beers this time and that he'll be home right after the big game.\n\n10:16 A.M.\u2014While passing a mirror, MG notices that his nose has grown eight inches.\n\n10:37 A.M.\u2014MG's buddy Turbo calls to remind him not to forget to bring the blow-up doll to the tailgate party.\n\n10:48 A.M.\u2014Having secured shoulder pads, football jersey, and helmet onto said doll, inspiration strikes and MG adds those little black stripes beneath his eyes using his wife's Chanel eyeliner.\n\n10:52 A.M.\u2014Begins loading cooler with beer.\n\n10:54 A.M.\u2014Takes a break from loading cooler to crack open the first of what will be an unthinkable number of cold boys.\n\n11:17 A.M.\u2014While driving to Turbo's place, MG realizes he's forgotten something very important: namely, that driving drunk is a crime.* He puts down his beer, pulls over, starts hitchhiking.\n\n12:22 P.M.\u2014MG finally catches a ride with a toothless trucker named Cougar who has room for the cooler and the blow-up doll.\n\n12:46 P.M.\u2014The two of them stop off at a strip club, sneak in beers.\n\n2:33 P.M.\u2014MG asks a dancer named Brandee to marry him. Tries to explain away presence of wedding ring. Slips her a hundo with his home number scrawled on it. Orders more beer.\n\n3:07 P.M.\u2014While passing a mirror, MG notices that his nose is redder than Khrushchev-era Communism.\n\n5:36 P.M.\u2014Flat broke, MG gets tossed from the strip club for trying to steal tips from G-strings.\n\n5:40 P.M.\u2014MG discovers Cougar in the truck's cab, making it with the blow-up doll. He vomits.\n\n5:43 P.M.\u2014In a moment of devastating clarity, MG realizes he's missed the game, blown his mortgage payment on lap dances, lost his cell phone, car, blow-up doll, and cooler, and is stranded twenty miles from a home he's probably going to lose in the divorce settlement.\n\n6:00 P.M.\u2014Despondent, MG is about to purposely step into oncoming traffic when he feels something in his jacket pocket. It's an unopened beer! All is right in the universe... until tomorrow morning.\n\nThen one night on the dance floor at a trendy L.A. nightclub, as I was about to reach into my Bag of Bullshit and pull out a timeworn yet trusty old nugget\u2014I believe it was, \"Is there an airport nearby or is that just my heart taking off?\"\u2014inspiration struck. \"Shake it, sugar,\" I cooed to an attractive redhead in a devilish blue dress, \"Shake it like a Polaroid picture.... Heeeeeeey yaaaa! Heeey ya!!!\" And shake it she did, just like the fella from OutKast knew she would when he penned that line, and the Song Lyric Inducement Method (SLIME) was born. Although I didn't get lucky every time out, there's no doubt SLIME breathed new life into the womanizing ways of this Playa Pimp. From the beginning, I've been well served by, \"Don't be so quick to walk away, dance with me, I wanna rock your body\" because\u2014let's face it\u2014young women drink up that Justin Timberlake nonsense like appletinis. _Why_ they dig the effeminate ex-N'Syncer so much, well, I don't get it. But when it comes to cribbing his lyrics to woo women, oh, boy, do I ever get it. Over and over again. Haven't been so lucky going old school. Used the chorus from \"Take My Breath Away\" on a gal at the gym and it was a total embarrassment. Trust me, it's probably best to refrain from using songs by Berlin or anything at all off the _Top Gun_ soundtrack, for that matter. I know a guy who said he met his future wife after belting out Kenny Loggins's \"Danger Zone\" at a karaoke bar in Cleveland. They divorced after six weeks. Heavy stuff such as Marilyn Manson and Korn are also off-limits, but you can get away with Nine Inch Nails if the hit-upon has serious self-esteem issues, and even then only if it's something off _The Downward Spiral._\n\nFrankly, the most effective way to SLIME a potential paramour is to borrow from a master hip-hop crooner like Usher or Prince. One time I walked up on a fine-looking hottie in a coffee shop and whispered, \"You make me wanna leave the one I'm with to start a new relationship with you.\" Took her back to my place later that night, and before I could say, \"I would die 4 U,\" we were buck nekked on my waterbed fffffffffffffffffffffffff... damn! There goes that sticky key again.\n\nWhile scoping the singles scene in bars, I regularly indulge my mischievous inner child by ordering cocktails with such provocative names as Sex on the Beach (a Madras, with peach schnapps) and Slippery Nipple (Baileys, Kahl\u00faa, and butterscotch schnapps). Some of the most superbly sublime moments in my illustrious nightlife career have involved tomfoolery along the lines of roguishly asking attractive barmistresses for a Long Kiss Goodnight (vanilla vodka and cr\u00e8me de cacao) or Their Phone Number (a scowl and a double-shot of cold rejection served straight up). And silly sexual innuendo isn't the only fun to be had when ordering drinks when you're at the bar picking up women instead of, say, at home being married. In fact, there's a vodka from Holland that could be the greatest thing to happen to smartasses since the invention of plastic dog shit and whoopee cushions. It's called Effen, and it is pronounced precisely as it's spelled. As in, \"Hey bartender, can I get some Effen vodka in this drink?\" or, \"This is the best Effen vodka I've ever tasted,\" or, \"Man, what in the Effen hell was I thinking when I signed on to write a sixty-thousand-word book?\"* See how much fun can be had?\n\nOf course, the fun is often followed by a wicked hangover the next morning.... But fret not, kids, cuz I got you covered BIG TIME! A few years back I discovered First Call, whose manufacturer bills it as \"the only all-natural food product currently on the market for hang-over prevention.\" The only one, huh? I remember thinking to myself, _Guess the folks over at First Call haven't heard of a little all-natural food product called the Bloody Mary._ Still, with a long European \"booze junket\" in the offing, I decided to give First Call a shot. The capsules are made entirely from the edible part of the hybrid artichoke and sarsaparilla root, and aid in the elimination of toxins in the liver. The regimen is simple: Take three capsules prior to drinking, and three more just before you pass out on the hotel room floor (or wherever you wind up after a night on the town). I popped the pills, shared several bottles of Veuve Clicquot with a Hungarian supermodel, and woke up in the Presidential Suite of a tony boutique hotel. And I gotta tell ya, friends, I felt sprightlier than a puppy... without all the drool. Just to be sure it wasn't a fluke, I repeated the process the following evening\u2014this time with some highly potent single-malt Scotch and a rather unstable exotic dancer named Siobhan. Next day, I woke up and ran three miles! *\n\nThis is probably a good time to point out that drinking and womanizing don't always go hand in shaky hand. One incident in particular comes to mind: I was several hours into what was shaping up to be a splendid evening down at a local watering hole, JP's Bar & Grill. A scrumptious little number named Betty was eating up my tall tales of adventure on the high seas\u2014I'd recently seen _The Pirates of the Caribbean_ movie\u2014and Kelly the bartender had completely forgotten about a rather large outstanding bar tab. Plus, Bottomfeeder was nowhere in sight, and the Misfits were playing on the jukebox. It was a good night, to be sure. Intent on polishing off what had to be my sixth or seventh Knob Creek and ginger ale, I carelessly raised the highball glass to my lips... and that's when I made a painful discovery about the incredible amount of damage a stiff drinking straw can inflict upon the fragile human eye.\n\nLying on a gurney in the emergency room at the hospital, it dawned on me just how precarious a devotion to nightlife can be. Bars generally tend to be filled with drunk people who smoke, handle glassware, and, most alarmingly, open their mouths to speak\u2014often to complete strangers whom they are trying to convince to come home with them. Yes, the average drinking establishment is a veritable breeding ground for mishaps. If you think about it, bar accidents occur all the time, from the relatively harmless chipped tooth caused by overenthusiastically sucking on a beer bottle to the downright dangerous \"elbow slip,\" which has led many an over-lubricated taverngoer to face-plant onto the bar and\/or floor. It's a wonder more of us aren't incapacitated.\n\nMen who don't wear underwear or button-fly jeans are likely all too familiar with the agony associated with a \"careless zip-up\" in the john. Then there are those embarrassing \"piss stains\" due to insufficient shaking.* And how many of us have forgotten to wash our hands after grabbing hold of a grubby toilet handle, only to come down later with a wicked case of hepatitis? Whew, I know I've been _there_ before.\n\nThe \"drunk drop\" is a common mishap that occurs when a person's grip is weakened by the presence of excessive amounts of booze. Usually the dropper doesn't even realize that he\/she is no longer holding a drink until the next attempted sip, compounding the embarrassment and\/or risk of injury. Toes and feet, incidentally, are most at risk in a \"drunk dropping\" incident. Not very hazardous if it involves a twelve-ounce Miller Lite, but anything heavier, like, say, a Foster's oil can or a pint of Smithwick's, and the victim could spend weeks hobbling around like a retired NFL lineman.\n\n\"Misstepping\" is another common bar-related calamity. Liberal doses of substances such as tequila and gin often have a blurring effect on a person's field of vision, and can actually cause the limbs to behave erratically. That's when two steps begin to look like three steps, and climbing five steps feels like seven steps. Of course, if you find yourself \"misstepping\" with any regularity, it may be time to consider entering a program involving twelve steps. \"Drunken singing\" is a disaster that happens all too frequently in bars, especially those that feature Neil Diamond and Abba on the jukebox. Invariably, fights break out, ears are permanently damaged, and some lout mangles the words to \"Pour Some Sugar on Me.\"\n\nAnd finally, the \"inappropriate remark\" loudly blurted at the exact moment that everyone else in the bar suddenly goes silent can have some serious repercussions. Lord knows that in the wake of a serious beating incurred a few years ago at a biker bar in Phoenix, I'll think twice before uttering the words \"I'd like to bang the bouncer's wife\" ever again.\n\nIn addition to hangovers, damaged retinas, broken toes, shattered egos, nicked willies, and tools hitting on you with cheesy song lyrics, one of the biggest nuisances associated with the Drinking Life is that sometimes an uncontrollable urge for a good buzz comes on at a most inopportune time... such as on the day before payday, when most boozers are flat-ass broke. That's when the hard-core types usually turn to cost-efficient concoctions that really have no business being put into the human body. Once, when my wallet was especially weightless, I tried something called a \"White-Trash Russian,\" a dreadful combination of Bowman's Virginia vodka and Yoo-hoo. I'm almost certain it did some irreparable damage to my stomach lining and, quite possibly, my central nervous system. I had to drink seltzer and pop Tums for several weeks afterwards just to get right again. The experience did get me to thinking, though. What are the best poorman's cocktails? Surely, not every cheap drink out there tastes like Sterno. I see guys in tank tops drinking out of Styrofoam cups while munching on pigs in a blanket and cheese puffs at the local municipal park on Saturday afternoons... and they look so goddamn happy. What's in those cups?\n\n\"The 'Poor Man's Margarita'\u2014tequila and Squirt\u2014is a popular one out West,\" says my pal Terry Sullivan. \"And in some Eastern cities, large parties used to get by on 'Purple Passions'\u2014Welch's grape juice and grain alcohol. But I hear that 'Blue Lagoons'\u2014whatever that blue sports drink crap is, plus grain alcohol\u2014have recently supplanted them in some circles.\" Cash-strapped drunks in Chicago swear by \"Muddy Bottoms,\" a potent combination of Green River \"gourmet\" soda and cheap bourbon. And I've heard that during the great urine-test scare a few years back, some less-than-tasteful folks in Denver used to serve a lovely thing called \"Pee in the Bottle\"\u2014Mountain Dew and vodka or Everclear in plastic specimen cups. Served _warm_ \u2014for verisimilitude. Some of the curb-sitters in my old neighborhood in Philadelphia used to specialize in what was known as the \"Colt Python\" (from the handgun of the same name) by adding a couple of shots of whatever cheap blended whiskey was on sale at the state store to a half quart of Colt 45 malt liquor. So now you _really_ know what they mean by the old phrase \"pick your poison.\"\n\n_____________\n\n* high-pitched \"hee-hees\" intermixed with lusty \"hee-haws.\"\n\n* The guy who sang it, Maurice Chevalier, was from France, where grown men have been known to drink like little girls. One of the more dainty concoctions I've come across in my research in Paris is the Malabar Shooter, offered exclusively at a little bar called L'Artscenik near the Moulin Rouge. Bar owner Stephane Lesc's creation calls for bubble gum (Malabar is France's version of Bazooka) soaked in a bottle of Saint James Caribbean Rum mixed with 1\/4 cup of sugar. The resulting shot is like candy for grown-ups. You can use any rum you like, actually, but be sure to allow the gum to macerate for at least twenty-four hours.\n\n* Mind Erasers are wussy shots consisting of equal parts vodka, Kahl\u00faa, and tonic water.\n\n* I've got a real passion for Austroasiatic languages.\n\n* There was a time in my life when I harbored a deep resentment for the coffee giant (see sidebar on page 000), but I did a volte-face and today proudly count myself among the company's most loyal customers.\n\n* A seductive variation of the just-hit-legal-drinking-age standard calls for a half ounce each of sloe gin (Hiram Walker or Mr. Boston), Southern Comfort, vodka, Galliano, and Frangelico. Shake it all up with roughly five ounces of OJ, and pour over ice in a highball glass.\n\n* When I met Sting at a party at the 2006 Sundance Film Festival I remarked that he and I were most likely the only two people in the room who'd been at the Police reunion at Giants Stadium during the 1986 Amnesty International tour, to which Sting replied, \"That wasn't me, that was my grandfather.\" Sting is really cool!\n\n* San Francisco's tastiest and most famous brew has been around since 1896, the year Sting was born.\n\n* at least as far as I was concerned.\n\n* The offense carries many names and acronyms, depending upon the jurisdiction. The most common is Driving Under the Influence (DUI), followed in no particular order by Driving While Impaired (DWI), Driving While Intoxicated (DWI), Operating a Motor Vehicle While Intoxicated (OMVI), and Driving While Passed Out Drunk Behind the Wheel (RIP).\n\n* For those of you keeping score at home, the word count to this point is TK.\n\n* Turns out, that stripper was really crazy... and fast.\n\n* Nightlife Tip #224: Although no longer considered stylish by fashionistas, acid-washed jeans quite effectively camouflage pee-pee marks.\n\n# Step 9\n\n# Brushes with Celebrities, Comb-Overs with Nobodies\n\n\"So,\" asked the pretty gal on the other side of the desk, \"are you really the Imbiber?\"\n\n\"Uh, maybe... yeah,\" I mumbled. Over the years I'd come to adopt a fair measure of wariness toward that question, but then again my photos were easily accessible in the newspaper as well as on my website,* not to mention that I was wearing a \"Read _The Imbiber_ and Nobody Gets Hurt\" T-shirt.* Plausible deniability \u00e0 la FDR and Nixon was pretty much out of the question. \"Wow! I read your column every week in _Metro._ I can't believe you're really THE IMBIBER!\" she more or less gushed.\n\nI was trying to get in to see David Steinberger, President and CEO of Perseus Books. I wanted to discuss his company's recent acquisition of Avalon Publishing Group and any possible ramifications the merger might have on the publication, promotion, and sales strategy of my book. I was also hoping to score a comp copy of Michael Eric Dyson's latest best seller about the black experience in America.* I'd gotten as far as Steinberger's executive assistant's summer intern's temp, the young lady who turned out to be such an unabashed fan of my weekly spirits screed. Her excitement was understandable. After all, she thought she was speaking with the Imbiber. I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was just me, Danny Dunn, the mere channel for my larger-than-life alter ego.\n\nIn truth, it often seems that the Imbiber is some sort of otherworldly being who intermittently takes over my body, exerting absolute control over it to sate his own voracious appetite for pleasure. Nocturnal in the way that other people are Freewill Baptists, the Imbiber usually shows up hell-bent on wreaking havoc at night, after Danny Dunn's consciousness has been weakened by some combination of alcohol, sleep deprivation, and chronically low self-esteem. The differences between the two of us can be striking.\n\nWhenever the opportunity presents itself\u2014and in the glamorous world of professional spirits reportage, it does so regularly\u2014the Imbiber sets up shop on a barstool at some trendy haunt where he knocks back snifter after snifter of wildly expensive hootch the caliber of Martell Creation Grand Extra cognac* while bragging about all the exotic places he's visited to gaggles of female admirers susceptible to the lure of a good yarn and some potent liquor. Danny Dunn wakes up the next morning in bed with a total stranger, a wicked hangover, and the faint recollection of yet another appalling bar tab.\n\nThe Imbiber hitches rides on private jets for weekend getaways to Anguilla, where he hobnobs with folks whose last names appear on one's kitchen appliances. Welcome by name at the most exclusive clubs on the international jet-set circuit, he's always in the company of some powerful group or individual who welcomes his casual wisdom on matters of the highest import. Danny Dunn, however, struggles with the ethical implications of shoplifting bean burritos from the 7-11 at 4 A.M.\n\n\"So, Mr. Imbiber,\" the cutie jolted me out of my rumination, \"you should write something about what it's like to work in an office at a big place like Perseus.... That'd be interesting, huh?\n\n\"SURE, OR MAYBE I'LL TAKE IT ONE STEP FURTHER AND POSTULATE ON WHAT IT'D BE LIKE TO COUNT MY FINGERS AND TOES FOR A LIVING!\" Clearly, and without warning, the Imbiber had taken over.*\n\n\"Excuse me?\" she said.\n\n\"LOOK, BABE, IF YOU WANT AN ARTICLE ABOUT BEING A SLAB RAT FOR A FACELESS CONGLOMERATE, WHY DON'T _YOU_ WRITE IT?!\" he jeered. \"I'M SURE THE BIG MAGAZINES WOULD PAY BEAUCOUP BUCKS FOR A FRESH IDEA LIKE THAT!!!\"\n\n\"Sheesh, I'm sorry I said anything,\" she grumbled, sliding a clipboard in front of the boor. \"Sign in and have a seat over there.\"\n\n\"NO, WAIT, I'M SORRY I WAS RUDE,\" he whispered softly, leaning ever so slightly into her personal space. \"I'VE BEEN UNDER SUCH STRESS SINCE MY KITTEN, SNOOKUMS, WAS DIAGNOSED WITH RICKETS.\"\n\n\"Oh, the poor kitty,\" she said gently, placing a consoling hand atop his own.\n\n\"I KNOW, I KNOW... IT'S BEEN VERY, VERY HARD. EVER SINCE I FOUND HER ABANDONED IN A DUMPSTER AND NURSED HER BACK TO HEALTH, SNOOKUMS HAS BEEN LIKE FAMILY,\" he said, choking up for effect. \"AND THEN THERE'S THE PRESSURE OF DELIVERING THE BOOK ON TIME, AND KEEPING UP WITH ALL MY VOLUNTEER WORK, AND...AND...SAY, WHY DON'T WE MEET LATER FOR A DRINK SO WE CAN FLESH OUT YOUR OFFICE STORYIDEA?\"\n\nShe lit up. \"Really? You'd do that for me?\"\n\n\"ABSOLUTELY... OH, WAIT... DARN, I'M AFRAID I CAN'T. I'M A LITTLE SHORT ON CASH THIS WEEK, WHAT WITH SNOOKUMS'S VET BILL AND MY CHARITABLE DONATIONS AND ALL,\" he said, patting his empty wallet for emphasis.\n\nOf course, the executive assistant's secretary's intern or whatever she was agreed to meet for a drink _and_ foot the bill. She was a stunner, and the Imbiber decided that the most effective means of wooing her would be to continue to pour on the \"sensitive guy\" routine. From somewhere in the surreal netherworld where I'm exiled whenever HE takes over, I could swear I heard him coo, \"PLEASE BE GENTLE; I'VE BEEN HURT BEFORE.\"\n\nThere are a number of people like the secretary at Perseus who know my name and have at least a passing familiarity with my work in the newspaper. By no means am I famous, but I do meet lots of celebrities, and have developed a knack for glomming onto them in order to revel in the trappings of fame by association. For the past several years now, I've kept the network intact by hosting a holiday shindig for my **\"Hollywood friends,\"** almost all of whom have unusual names. I came up with the idea while perched on a barstool at O'Brien's, arguing with Bottomfeeder over the artistic merits of our mutual acquaintance Chaka Khan. It turns out that my insufferable roomie was a roadie on Chaka's 1992 _The Woman I Am_ tour. I knew her through a deejay friend of mine named Mixmaster Nose Ring, who'd done an infectious remix of \"Ain't Nobody\" that was a bona fide smash on the gay club circuit back in the early Clinton years.\n\nOne thing led to another, and on an unusually chilly L.A. evening in December of 2003 I wound up having Chaka, Nose Ring, his good friend actor-comedian Cheech Marin, and Charo over for pomegranate martinis* and cocktail wieners. And boy, was it ever a hoot\u2014particularly the discordant discourse between a liquored-up Chaka, Cheech, and Charo. Great stuff. Really. And the thing just kinda grew from there.\n\n#   Farewell to a Fife\n\nRegrettably, the legendary actor Don Knotts never attended one of my holiday parties. Knotts, best known for his role as Deputy Barney Fife on _The Andy Griffith. Show,_ passed away in February 2006, and while the rest of the so-called Hollywood media mourned or slept or chased Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie and their adopted kids around impoverished Third World countries, _Entertainment Tonight_ was on the case in search of what they dubbed \"the lost Don Knotts tapes\". That's right\u2014the lost Don Knotts tapes! Knotts died on Friday, February 24th, and at the top of the syndicated show the following Monday a bleary-eyed Mary Hart\u2014who'd clearly been turning over stones all weekend long\u2014revealed that the lost Don Knotts tapes had, in fact, been recovered and that _ET_ had the exclusive.\n\nAs anyone with even a passing knowledge of showbiz lore knows, the whereabouts of these tapes\u2014which contain footage of Don Knotts shaking his _Three's Company_ co-star Joyce DeWitt's hand at a backstage birthday bash\u2014had long been one of Hollywood's greatest mysteries, alongside other monumental head-scratchers such as the source of George Hamilton's fame and the decision to make Grace Jones a Bond Girl. Indeed, not since Clara Peller begged the profound question, \"Where's the beef?\" had inquiring minds been so flummoxed.\n\nIn tribute to Don Knotts and the investigative reporting prowess of _ET,_ I would like to propose a toast\u2014in shot form, because Don would have wanted it that way\u2014that the folks in Mayberry, and maybe even down at the Regal Beagle, would've surely enjoyed. It's called a Barney on Acid, and while I can't say for sure that it's named for Knotts's beloved bungling lawman, I do know this\u2014had Barney Fife ever actually _done_ acid, it would have made for the funniest _Andy Griffith Show_ ever. Who knows, maybe the lost \"Barney is tripping\" episode _is_ out there waiting to be found. Somebody get Mary Hart on the line!\n\n**Barney on Acid**\n\n0.5 oz. blue curacao\n\n0.5 oz. J\u00e4germeister\n\nsplash of cranberry juice\n\nShake with ice and strain into a shot glass.\n\nLast year's event was the biggest yet, with a guest list that included Chaka, Cheech, Charo, and Cher, along with U2 guitarist The Edge, The Rock, Chris Rock, Kid Rock, and former adult superstar Rock Steadie. Chastity Bono, Bono, Bon Jovi, and the guy who played Boner on Growing Pains showed up, as did all four Zappa kids\u2014Moon Unit, Ahmet Rodan, Diva, and Dweezil\u2014along with the surviving members of the acting Phoenix clan: Joaquin, Summer, Rain, and Liberty. Slash, Screech, Sade, Seal, and Sisqo found themselves hobnobbing with Prince, Queen Latifah, and the King Ad Rock. Tiger, Tyra, Tyrese, and Treach stopped by, but none of them stayed long because they had tickets to see Carrot Top. Moby, Iggy Pop, and Marilyn Manson were no-shows, but that's okay because Fat Boy Slim brought along his turntable, much to the delight of Keanu, Kiefer, Kutcher, Kieran, and Macaulay Culkin... music lovers all. Too bad Sir Mix-a-Lot was a no-show, because \"Baby Got Back\" is a rad party tune.*\n\nAs you can imagine, there were plenty of fascinating conversations and spirited debates. For instance, Moon Unit, Summer, Slash, the Edge, and I argued for nearly half an hour over who was the most unusually named Stooge. We finally settled on Shemp (with the Edge dissenting; he's a big Curly Joe fan). And Dweezil Zappa\u2014always the joker\u2014amused himself and others by periodically shouting, \"Hey, Rock\" across the room, then watching Chris, Kid, King Ad, and The all turn around.\n\nThings got a little crazy around midnight when Bottomfeeder, who'd gone out for more beer and some bug spray (Flea was getting out of hand), burst in shouting, \"Zsa Zsa struck the concierge in the lobby!\"\n\n\"Wait a minute,\" I shot back. \"We don't have a lobby or a concierge... and what the hell is Zsa Zsa doing here?!\"\n\n\"I invited her because Sisqo wanted to meet her,\" he said. \"But that's not important. The point is, she smacked somebody on the way up here, and now the police are out front with their weapons drawn!\"\n\nI went downstairs and cleared things up with the cops. Turns out Zsa Zsa lost her notorious temper when a neighbor of mine, the actor Jake Gyllenhaal, had the audacity to try to share an elevator with her and her toy poodle. Took off her glove and whipped it across his face\u2014normally a pretty harmless way to assault someone, but in this case, Zsa Zsa was wearing diamond-encrusted leather gloves and one of the big rocks caught Jake in the eye and detached his retina. Word on the street is he may be permanently impaired. Of course, the whole incident got me down. After all, what sort of unusual-name-party-planner am I if I leave a guy with a name like Gyllenhaal off the invite list? Oh well, there's always next year.\n\nAnd that reminds me\u2014I need to get Coolio's phone number.\n\nAlthough we've never been introduced, I did happen to be in close quarters once with Larry King at an advance screening of _The Passion of the Christ_ on the Sony lot in Culver City, California. Larry was sitting next to a hot youngish blonde whom I assumed to be his latest wife. Larry didn't look good, either. Not sick or anything, just not good. He's an unattractive man with a disproportionately large head topped by hair the consistency of hay. There was a gay dude with Larry and the blonde, and as we waited for the film to begin, he made repeated attempts to steer the conversation toward same-sex marriage. Larry was having none of that, however, and instead loudly and randomly remarked that God made marijuana. Since we were about to see _The Passion of the Christ,_ almost everyone in the screening room seemed to feel the need to discuss God, but Larry King was the only one talking about His role in the creation of loco weed. I was thinking Larry was the absolute bomb at that point, but I was in the minority. People shot him angry looks. Many were clearly put off by the suggestion that God created pot\u2014true as that certainly is\u2014but no one actually said anything to Larry King because, well, he's Larry-fucking-King. The gay dude remarked that the mayor of San Francisco is a hero, but Larry cut him off to tell the blonde she was a bad driver.\n\n\"Well, then you drive next time, Larry,\" she snapped. \"Hah!\" he cackled loudly. Then, if my booze-soaked memory is correct,* Larry suddenly lost consciousness and slumped forward, his giant head flattening a tub of popcorn. But then just like that, he popped up again and cackled some more.\n\nSeated beside me was a movie critic from _LA Weekly_ who informed me that one of Mel Gibson's earliest decisions as director of _The Passion of the Christ_ was to have the Jesus of his film speak Aramaic, the same language that the historical Jesus spoke two thousand years ago. At this, I mentioned that I was taking a beginners' Spanish class at my local community college.\n\n\"Oh, you'll love learning Spanish,\" the critic gushed. \"It's a beautiful language.\"\n\nI told him I was already fluent in Spanish, and that I had enrolled merely in order to feed my appetite for superiority. No one could deny that I was the best student in the class.\n\n\"Do you think Larry King is stoned right now?\" I asked, eyeing the blonde lasciviously. I was pretty sure I loved her. The _LA Weekly_ critic got up and moved to another seat. Then I was really bored, so I pulled out my cell phone, flipped it open, held it high, and pointed it toward the blank screen. A burly security guard rushed over and demanded to see the phone, so I gave it to him.\n\n\"It's turned off,\" he said, studying it intently.\n\n\"That's correct,\" I replied.\n\n\"Well, then why were you holding it up?\"\n\n\"I was admiring the craftsmanship. The Japanese really make quality electronic devices, doncha think?\"\n\nThis threw him off balance. He carried himself like a marine, this guy, and I'd swear I heard him whistling a Toby Keith tune out in the lobby. It had to just tear him apart to be cashing paychecks from Sony.\n\n\"You can't hold the phone up like that,\" he barked with finality.\n\n\"Sure you can. I just did, and nobody's any worse off because of it, right?\" Then I moved in close and whispered, \"Look, man, you might want to keep an eye on that guy up there with the big head.\"\n\n\"Larry King?\"\n\n\"Yes, Larry King!\" I said, my voice rising ever so slightly. \"He's twisted!\"\n\n\"Twisted?\"\n\n\"Without a doubt,\" I hissed. \"On pot or something worse! He's been haranguing that young woman next to him since he arrived!\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\" the guard asked, his anxiety bubbling to the surface. \"I mean, he looks pretty calm and he is... uh... he is _Larry King.\"_\n\nI grabbed the guard forcefully by the lapels and pulled him in tight. He was rattled now; his expression betrayed anger and fear. \"He's not calm, he's in a drug-induced trance! And yeah, he's Larry King all right, but this movie is about God our almighty savior! It's goddamn sacrilege what that bowling-ball-headed talking head is doing up there, man!\"\n\n\"You're right,\" he said. \"I've got to throw him out of here.\"\n\n\"He's really left you with no other choice,\" I replied, rising from my seat. \"But you better let me go with you\u2014to comfort that poor blonde.\"\n\n\"His wife?\"\n\n\"Well, maybe not for long,\" I said, digging through my pockets for a breath mint. Then I handed the guard my business card. \"By the way, I may split early and get her to a hotel so we, er, she can lie down and recover... do me a favor\u2014give me a jingle and let me know how the movie ends.\"\n\nOn many occasions your liquor-nipping correspondent has partied like a champ, but until I met Sugar Ray Leonard I'd never actually partied _with_ one. Ah, but anything's possible in the effulgent desert-dry den of iniquity that is Las Vegas, especially in the wee hours of the morning in the Shadow Bar at Caesar's Palace, which is where I found myself in the winter of 2006 hunkered down in a private booth next to the legendary boxer. The Hall of Fame pugilist hadn't fought professionally in quite some time, his last win coming back in 1989 against Roberto Duran. But the guy appeared to be in tiptop shape, and I suspected that if push ever came to punch he'd mop the floor with every one of the young boxers who'd appeared on the Leonard-hosted TV show _The Contender_ or, without a doubt, a mouthy out-of-shape booze writer. So it was with a fair amount of trepidation (and beer muscles) that I called the champ out on what I observed to be some surprisingly lightweight drinking habits.\n\n\" _No mas!\"_ I shouted, harking back to Ray's most memorable encounter with Duran, although I was referring to the Cape Codders* he was ordering.\n\n\"What's wrong with Cape Codders? I really enjoy them,\" the champ replied, instantly topping my list of Top 10 Things I Never Thought I'd Hear a Guy Who Kicked Marvin Hagler's Ass Say.*\n\n\"You're one of the toughest fighters of all time, man. You should be drinking something harder than Cape Codders! Can I interest you in a Rusty Nail, perhaps?\"*\n\n\"Well,\" Sugar Ray said thoughtfully, \"I like chardonnay a lot, too.\"* It dawned on me that it was only a matter of time before the words \"Shirley Temple\" came out of the mouth of the guy who once TKO'd Tommy \"The Hitman\" Hearns,* and I didn't want to see Ray go out like that. Word was spreading that Justin Timberlake was in the bar, and I'd be damned if I was going to sit idly by while Sugar Ray Leonard professed a love of boy bands.\n\nI headed back to L.A. posthaste, but didn't fare much better chatting with J. D. Fortune at Hollywood's House of Blues a few hours after he'd been chosen in front of a national TV audience to be the lead singer of INXS. \"If there are words to describe this feeling, I can't find them right now,\" offered Fortune, who grew up in Canada idolizing the multiplatinum band that was once fronted by the late Michael Hutchence. I hadn't asked J. D. to size up his emotional state, but if he needed to put that out there, well, who was I to quibble? To be honest, I was merely hoping to have a few drinks on the band's tab and maybe score some leftover babes. What a life, eh? From here on out, J. D. Fortune gets to party like a rock star FOR A LIVING! Talk about your killer benefits packages.\n\n\"I'm really into infused vodkas and stuff like that,\" J. D. told me before he left to go make time with some models. Bah! I thought... I'd had enough with the vodka. Premium, super-premium, ultra-premium, single-batch, mega-distilled, prime-select Grade A chilly-most... who could keep up? For weeks I'd been on a super-premium light rum kick. Since there was only one on the market at that time, the choice was simple: **10 Cane,** which is produced on the windswept isle of Trinidad, and oh, how sweet it is. I got acquainted with this special spirit at a luncheon held at the posh Hotel Bel Air. Between mouthfuls of Cuban pressed sandwiches and chipotle-rubbed tenderloin of beef I enjoyed the tastiest mojito I'd had this side of Little Havana. And the 10 Cane daiquiris were to die for, though I don't recommend it (dying, that is).\n\n**10 Cane Daiquiri**\n\n2 oz. 10 Cane rum\n\n1 oz. fresh-squeezed lime juice\n\n1 oz. simple syrup\n\nlime wheel for garnish\n\nShake ingredients with ice. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish.\n\nDaiquiri in hand, I made my way over to INXS guitarist Tim Farriss and asked him if he could recall some of the wild times he'd had as part of one of the world's more famous bands. He told me that the best nights were usually the ones he couldn't remember. \"But there was this one time in Paris...,\" he said, and I'll leave out the rest as there's still a chance we'll market this as a children's book.\n\nEventually I'd discover firsthand what it's like to carouse with Farriss. After a party at the home of celebrated TV producer Mark Burnett, Tim and I made our way to a popular beachside hotel in Santa Monicacalled the Viceroy. We drank **Martin Miller's London Dry Gin,** slurped oysters from the half shell, and handed out Cosmic Kisses* to all the pretty girls. I'm not sure who footed the bill for the extravagance, but it sure as shit wasn't Farriss or me. I'd lost my wallet hours earlier, and famous musicians\u2014by rule\u2014never pay for anything.\n\n#   Martin Miller Is the Man\n\nMartin Miller's London Dry Gin is the eponymous creation of an English antiques expert who, having grown frustrated over a perceived dearth of quality gins, decided to whip up an ultra-premium of his own. After much trial and error, Miller concocted an 80-proof wonder that has the potential to revolutionize and re-popularize gin in much the same way the likes of Grey Goose and Ketel One did for vodka.\n\nMiller seeks out the best botanicals\u2014juniper along with other stuff like cassia bark and Florentine Iris\u2014and distills them in a hundred-year-old copper still dubbed \"Grandma.\" Once the heart of the single batch distillation is extracted it gets shipped from the UK to Iceland, where it's married with lava-filtered glacial water and bottled. I'm telling you, people, ol' Marty should have called the stuff Baby's Ass instead, cuz it's _that_ smooth (and drinking enough of it will get you pretty, uh, crappy). Is it the water? The still? Magic? I dunno, but I can tell you that Miller's gin is so good it was awarded double gold at the 2006 San Francisco World Spirits Competition.\n\n\"Let's have a shot, Danny boy!\" I recall Tim shouting. \"Another round for everyone!\"\n\nThere are bad ideas, really bad ideas, and then there are the words\u2014almost always uttered with gross intemperance\u2014\"Another round of shots.\" And by shots I'm talking about a straight ounce and a half of a single, robust spirit. Concoctions with names like Attitude Adjustment, Gorilla Fart, or Mind Eraser are not shots, my friends. They're telltale signs that you frequently wet the bed as a child. At the Viceroy we drank J\u00e4germeister or, as I like to call it, the Devil's Bile. Hell, we were downing the stuff like it was 1987 all over again.*\n\nFrom the Viceroy, with several groupies in tow\u2014Tim's, not mine\u2014we wound up back at my crib, where Tim proceeded to spill an entire bottle of '98 Penfold's Grange* all over my white living room sofa and one of the groupies, who also happened to be quite white. I didn't get nearly as upset as she did, though. On the contrary, I was moved by the spirit of drunken rock star debauchery and summarily tossed an antique electric guitar into the bathtub and lit it on fire, \u00e0 la Jimi Hendrix at the Monterey Pop Festival.* I believe that's right about when everyone left. I have a vague recollection of the cops showing up sometime later on. Or maybe it was the fire department. Or both. The lesson here, of course, is never serve red wine on a white sofa, as it can only lead to big trouble.\n\nThere's a point, of course, to all this party talk and name-dropping, and that point is that I am having a much better time than most of you... wait, that's not it\u2014the point is a shot recipe with a name that could make even Tim Farriss turn red:\n\n**Fucked by a Rockstar**\n\n1 oz. vodka\n\n0.5 oz. Triple Sec\n\n0.5 oz. Rockstar energy drink\n\nPour the ingredients into a two-ounce shot glass and slam it.\n\nShe may very well be the most overexposed individual on the planet in this young century, and while I certainly wouldn't want to further magnify the spectacle that is Paris Hilton, I'd be remiss if I didn't offer at least a glancing mention of our special evening together in France. I was in the C\u00f4te d'Azur covering the 2006 Cannes Film Festival for my employer, Metro International Newspapers, and my editor had made arrangements for me to meet up with a gossip blogger who goes by the moniker Perez Hilton. We were scheduled to make the scene at an MTV party in some majestic French ch\u00e2teau, but when I met up with Perez in front of a beachside casino he informed me that the plan had changed: It turned out Paris was having a private dinner party and Perez was way tight with his nom de plume-sake. Before you could say, \"That's hot,\" we were at the restaurant Baoli and I was sitting right next to the world's most famous devisee.\n\nI can confirm that Paris uses her famous catchphrase with regularity in casual conversation and that it just gets funnier and funnier each time you hear it. I'm telling you, of all the craziness I experienced in Cannes\u2014hell, damn near anywhere I've ever been\u2014spending five hours in close company with Paris and Perez Hilton ranks among the most surreal. We sipped mojitos from the same glass and drank specialty bottles of 1996 Dom P\u00e9rignon* the size of Mini-Me (no exaggeration). After a meal that must have cost more than a presidential campaign we headed into the nightclub section of Baoli, where Paris got up and sang a cover of Rod Stewart's \"Do Ya Think I'm Sexy.\" I'm pretty sure she winked at me during the chorus, too, and at that moment I instantly regretted every negative word I'd ever written about her. I decided right then and there that I wouldn't make any snarky comments about her vocal stylings, either: I'd let her CD warble for itself.\n\nThe primary directive I had been given for composing a daily journal at Cannes was simple enough: give readers who aren't very familiar with the film festival a sense of what it _feels_ like to be there. Okay, so try to imagine you've had a very long day in which you've been shoved around by aggressive reporters, rude paparazzi, and overzealous fans from the four corners of the globe, while also absorbing a tremendous amount of guff from haughty publicists and ill-tempered security guards. Some time around midnight you venture out into the warm pre-summer's evening in search of a comfortable watering hole for the purpose of getting pissed, and after walking for what seems like miles you stumble upon Morrison's, an honest-to-goodness Irish pub smack dab in the heart of Cannes on the Rue Teisseire. Why settle on a working-class Irish joint when you're in one of the ritziest resort towns on the French Riviera in the midst of the world's most celebrated film festival? That's easy: for a variety of reasons, some of them partially valid, you're intimidated by people from other countries (i.e., France, Venezuela, China) and other planets (i.e., Hollywood).\n\nAre you _feeling_ Cannes yet?\n\n\"This is the oldest, biggest, busiest, and best-run Irish establishment in town,\" averred Morrison's barkeep Robert Ryan, who calls Limerick home, adding: \"Don't put that down, though\u2014the cops might find me.\" I mentioned that my own Irish lineage stems from Cork County, whereupon Ryan quipped, \"Sorry to hear that.\" He told me that Morrison's ownership group had purchased the space next door and that the already roomy bar would be expanded in time for the following year's festival. \"It won't be double the fun, it'll be double the abuse,\" he cackled, baring a twisted grin that suggested he wasn't kidding. It was ALL GOOD, though, because unlike the publicists and security guards at Cannes, the Irish bartenders there at least have the decency to serve your derision with a delicious Guinness chaser or two.... _Slainte!_\n\nIn Cannes there were hordes of fans gathered each day outside the Palais de Festival in hopes of seeing movie stars, and to call these folks devoted is like calling Robert Novak a nasty old hack... it just doesn't quite cover the bill. Birgitte Yager was a twenty-four-year-old from Denmark, and while I'm no geologist, I'm pretty sure that's pretty far from Cannes. Birgitte had traveled to Cannes on holiday with a girlfriend and claimed to have spent the majority of her time camped out at the Palais, camera in hand, trying to get close to the stars. She wasn't kidding, either, because when we met it was the middle of the afternoon on a gorgeous beach day many hours before the next red-carpet event. She should have been tanning, but instead she was \"fanning.\" Damn shame, too, because Birgitte had it going on and the beaches in Cannes are top-optional.\n\n\"Maybe this afternoon someone famous comes to visit the press,\" she said, explaining her dubious strategy. I had to suppress a giggle\u2014can you imagine Tom Hanks popping into the cramped media room for a spell? Birgitte had already \"got\" Hanks, and proudly showed off a digital image of him she'd snapped on the red carpet days earlier at _The Da Vinci Code_ world premiere. She said she \"loved\" Hanks but hadn't seen the movie yet. I didn't have the heart to tell her it blows. Her wish list also included Ethan Hawke (he'd been in Cannes to promote _Fast Food Nation),_ Greg Kinnear (ditto), Penelope Cruz _(Volver),_ The Rock _(Southland Tales),_ and Brad Pitt, who starred in _Babel_ but wasn't scheduled to be there for its premiere. When I told her as much, Birgitte didn't miss a beat: \"Perhaps he comes to see you, the press.\" Uh, yeah.\n\nWhile in Cannes I finally discovered a liquor company that truly\n\n_gets_ me. Leblon makes cacha\u00e7a, and although I've never actually tasted it I'd like to go on record as saying it is my favorite cacha\u00e7a in the world. Okay, I'm kidding. I actually drank gallons of Leblon in the South of France but the cacha\u00e7a isn't what sold me on the company\u2014their hospitality did. Throughout the festival Leblon made personal assistants available\u2014gratis\u2014to filmmakers, stars, and, yes, even lowly journalists like _moi._ According to Tracy Gilbert, who was Leblon's VP of global marketing, offering personal assistants to the press was in no way a gimmick designed to garner favorable coverage, but rather a way of \"letting our friends in the media know that we understand how stressful it can be working a huge festival such as Cannes, and that we'd like to help.\" I appreciated that level of altruism... almost as much as all the free booze, VIP party passes, and T-shirts Leblon had given me. Hey, the stars clean up on swag\u2014what's wrong with the Little People getting a little too? And sure, so maybe Leblon ultimately winds up getting seriously favorable ink in a national best seller,* but it's not like they _planned_ it that way. Seriously! Ask Tracy Gilbert if you don't believe me.\n\nMy assistant was Sophie Kristelle Jacq, a lovely woman from Cannes who divided her time living there and in St. Barts. You gotta love the French Riviera, eh? Even the assistants live the high life! First thing every morning I had Sophie dump a pitcher of cold water on my head because the night before had invariably been a rough one. Then I'd instruct her to hit the main drag, La Croissette, to do some \"person on the street\" interviews while I went back to bed for a few hours. I'd also have Sophie go off and review the movies I was supposed to be seeing, a number of which she told me I enjoyed very much. She had other duties, too. You know, mundane stuff such as some much-needed eyebrow tweezing, calling my friends in the States to let them know that I was having a lot more fun than they were, and of course taking column dictation and translating my screeds into seven different languages... just in case.\n\nPerhaps the most unsettling development at the 59th Festival de Cannes was the return of that most heinous of Reagan-era fashion transgressions: the khaki shorts\/polo-shirt-with-sweater-knotted-around-the-neck ensemble. According to one of my colleagues from _Metro's_ Paris office, this particular attire atrocity was _tr\u00e8s branch\u00e9_ among the French upper crust, who were out in full force on the Riviera looking very much like Robert Wagner circa his _Hart to Hart_ heyday. It was an inauspicious occurrence, indeed, that augured the inevitable comeback of the tragic parachute pants\/\"Chams\" muscle shirt combo that, as many fashionistas may recall, torpedoed poor Danny Terio's career.\n\nAmong the enduring memories of my two weeks at the 2006 Festival de Cannes were lively conversations with movie stars such as Cillian Murphy, Keanu Reeves, Robert Downey Jr., and Sam Jackson, seeing _Borat_ and _Babel_ for the first time, checking into Paris Hilton, as well as the night I was nearly run down by a vehicle carrying supermodel Eva Herzigova. And how could I forget all the amazing parties? Well, that's easy: Leblon* and its potent memory-sapping properties. I met all sorts of fascinating individuals who lurked behind the scenes, too: producers, publicists, managers, journalists, festival staff, security guards, and, of course, the street vendors around the fest's headquarters who sold the relatively affordable sandwiches and snacks that I subsisted on day in and day out... the shit wasn't too nasty, but it'll be a while before I go back on the all-ham-and-cheese-panini diet again.\n\nWhen it really comes down to it, though, the Cannes encounter that has surely been etched into my memory forever took place with a lovely young Parisian woman upon whom I was, as they say in that country, \"putting the moves.\" Although she spoke very little English, we managed to communicate fairly well, and she understood when I extended an offer to visit me in the States sometime on holiday. \"Okay,\" she said, flashing a smile bright enough to blind whatever the opposite of a bat is, \"I come on you in America.\" Mon amour, I couldn't have said it better myself.\n\nEarlier in this tome I denounced the mixing of spirits such as vodka with Red Bull and other energy drinks. After all, alcohol is a depressant; Red Bull's a stimulant. They're at opposite ends of the body's functional spectrum, and I reckoned that bringing them together could be as precarious as when they mixed matter and antimatter on _Star Trek._ But at the 2007 Sundance Film Festival I began to reconsider my position. I spent seven days and nights embedded inside the watering holes of Park City, Utah, for the purpose of studying the alcohol intake patterns of celebrities, and during that time it became increasingly evident that vodka and Red Bull has serious sex appeal.\n\nTo wit: at a party sponsored by _Hollywood Life_ magazine, I found myself at the bar\u2014what else is new, right?\u2014standing next to actor Jeremy Sisto. Now, it may have been the altitude or, ahem, a burgeoning man-crush, but when Sisto ordered a vodka and Red Bull\u2014DIET Red Bull, no less\u2014instead of rolling my eyes and\/or making a sarcastic remark as I usually do, I inexplicably found myself telling the bartender, \"I'll have one of those, too.\" What can I say? I was a big _Six Feet Under_ fan.\n\nAfter we got our drinks Jeremy joked about watching his figure and I laughed, probably a little too loudly. A group of very pretty women was standing nearby smiling at us. So I raised my vodka and diet Red Bull in a mock toast to them, and they giggled and waved. I turned back toward Jeremy, as I desperately wanted the ladies to think he was my friend, but he was gone. So, too, I figured, was any chance I had at a love connection. But to my surprise the cutest of the bunch, a comely brunette named Ashley, came up to me and asked what I was drinking.\n\n\"That's my favorite,\" she cooed.\n\n\"Mine too!\" I lied. \"My buddy Jeremy Sisto likes them too.\"\n\n\"Who's that?\" she asked.\n\n\"Nobody,\" I replied, jiggling the ice in my glass. \"Let's try the green Red Bull on the next round.\"\n\n_____________\n\n* www.theimbiber.net\n\n* Available in all sizes at www.theimbiber.net.\n\n* I was still reeling from the Blake Shipley debacle.\n\n* An exquisite blend from the oldest of the major cognac houses, made up of the finest eaux-devie aged in Troncais barrels instead of the Limousin oak variety favored by the majority of other producers: three hundred dollars a bottle.\n\n* He's what's known as an ALL CAPS personality.\n\n* The recipe I normally use comes courtesy of 44, the chic lobby lounge at the Royalton Hotel in midtown Manhattan. Made with Patr\u00f3n Silver tequila, Cointreau, fresh lime and pomegranate juice, this refreshing concoction is like sweet mariachi music for the mouth, if you can imagine what that might taste like. Substituting mango puree for the pomegranate juice yields a version with a little more tang to it. Tang, by the way, is my third-favorite word in the English language.\n\n* I cannot be dishonest about my affinity for big butts, and I love watching a crowd of well-lubricated revelers go ass-out crazy the moment they hear, \"Oh my God, Becky, look at her butt. It's so big.\"\n\n* It isn't.\n\n* Vodka, cranberry juice, and a lime wedge... duh!\n\n* Okay, so maybe it wasn't a complete ass-whupping. In their one and only meeting inside the ring, an April 1987 contest known simply as \"The Fight,\" Leonard beat the heavily favored Hagler in a controversial split decision.\n\n* Scotch, Drambuie, and a lemon peel in an ice-filled old-fashioned glass.\n\n*Try Newton Unfiltered Chardonnay 2003 ($50): it's pricey, but worth every penny. The Newton is an impeccable expression of the very best chardonnays Northern California has to offer. Tasting reveals layer upon layer of flavors ranging from butterscotch to citrus to roasted almonds. I can't recommend it highly enough.\n\n* That 1981 bout at Caesar's Palace was dubbed \"The Showdown,\" and Leonard\u2014well behind on all the judges' scorecards\u2014made a miraculous comeback to stop Hearns in the fourteenth round.\n\n* A combination of peach nectar and Mo\u00ebt Nectar Imp\u00e9rial served in a champagne flute.\n\n* 1987 was the high-water mark for sales of both J\u00e4germeister and INXS albums.\n\n* Nightlife Tip #365: When hanging with rich Aussies, drink expensive Aussie wine.\n\n* No fewer than three tracks from Hendrix's incredible 1967 debut album, _Are You Experienced?,_ were intoxicating enough to have drinks named after them\u2014the most popular being a **Purple Haze,** which is usually prepared one of two ways: either with vodka, blackberry schnapps, and orange juice, or vodka, raspberry liqueur, and 7-Up. A **Foxey Lady** is Amaretto, cr\u00e8me de cacao, and light cream shaken with ice and strained into a cocktail glass. Those with sweet teeth might want to try a **Red House** (Black Haus blackberry schnapps, sloe gin, and cranberry juice). Jimi often made magic playing other artists' music, and one of his most rousing covers was of the Trogg's only hit, **Wild Thing,** which appears on several of his live recordings. The drink that bears that name sounds pretty rockin' as well: Tequila, club soda, cranberry juice, and lime juice on the rocks.\n\n* The 1996 vintage is legendary. Vintage wines generally are released five years after harvest, but the rule of thumb is that they don't come into their own until they've aged eight to ten years. Readers who have a handle on basic math will note that the '96 is now at the front end of maturity.\n\n* _Nobody Likes a Quitter (and other reasons to avoid rehab)_ by Dan Dunn.\n\n* Yes, it's another shameless plug!\n\n# Step 10\n\n# What Would Jesus Drink? A Holiday Hootch Guide\n\n\"It's a righteous thing to do, man... it's like spiked eggnog for the soul.\"\n\nAnd so it was that Bottomfeeder had convinced me to join him and his band of merry degenerates\u2014the Unacceptable Behavior Club (UBC)\u2014on yet another rowdy misadventure: going door-to-door singing Christmas carols while intoxicated. Very, very intoxicated. Think \"Tommy Lee on his birthday\"\u2013type tanked. It was a move of professional survival. Perhaps somebody out there still thinks that _Saturday Night Live_ is funny, but it sure isn't anyone with a modicum of taste.* But on a Saturday night just before Jesus's 2,006th birthday, stopping home for a fresh shirt after yet another shots-fest disaster, there were Bottomfeeder and the UBC, watching _SNL_ with the sort of intensity usually reserved for porn downloads or double overtime.\n\n\"Genius,\" one of them muttered as some lame premise went poorly executed. \"Makes me feel like singing Christmas carols.\"\n\nThen came, \"It's a righteous thing to do, man... it's like **spiked eggnog for the soul.\"** Given that I'd had too much spiked eggnog already, I was in no mood to argue. Someone handed me a Santa hat, and I slid it over my dome. Our first order of business (after topping off plastic bourbon flasks) was to generate some sort of set list\u2014no easy task given Bottomfeeder's oddly intense aversion to traditional holiday numbers.\n\n**The Candy Cane Martini**\n\n21\/2 parts Stolichnaya vodka\n\n1\/2 part peppermint schnapps (Hiram Walker is my suggestion)\n\n1\/2part cr\u00e8me de cacao\n\ncandy cane to garnish\n\nPour Stoli and schnapps in a shaker with shaved ice. Shake well and strain into a martini glass. Hook the candy cane over the side to garnish.\n\n\"How about 'Deck the Halls'? That's a good one,\" said Sully, the UBC's longest tenured member, sergeant-at-arms, and the only man I know who lists multiple rehab \"graduations\" on his r\u00e9sum\u00e9.\n\n\"Nah. I don't get it,\" Bottomfeeder snorted. \"I mean, what are 'boughs of holly,' anyways? Besides, the stuff about donning gay apparel makes me uncomfortable.\"\n\nSully suggested changing the words to something a bit more UBC-esque.\n\n\"Sure, like 'now let's put on our \"I'm With Stupid\" T-shirts... fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!!!'\" sang Bottomfeeder. I found that very disconcerting considering that I was, in fact, with stupid. Several stupids, actually. The UBC, however, all got a good laugh out of Bottomfeeder.\n\n\"I don't know if you can just go ahead and defile the words to 'Deck the Halls,'\" I argued. \"I mean, we're talking about a timeless holiday classic here.\"\n\n\"Look, man,\" he replied, \"we're not defiling\u2014just sampling. This is the Modern World, where running old ladies off the highway to increase traffic flow is considered a public service. Tradition is the stuff landfills are made of.\" But after several disastrous attempts to rhyme \"yuletide\" with a type of lewd sex act, the UBC was forced to change its tune.\n\n\"Rock stars do some cool Christmas songs,\" muttered Tubby Joe, a large red-faced Irishman given to wearing Notre Dame T-shirts. \"How 'bout we try one of those?\"\n\n\"Does Black Sabbath have one?\" Sully wondered aloud.\n\n\"No,\" said Joe, \"but Billy Squire does.\"\n\nEveryone agreed that Billy Squire did have a hell of a Christmas rocker in his repertoire, but because not one of us could remember a single verse, it was decided (with me dissenting) that any Billy Squire song would suffice. So it was that we wound up on a neighbor's porch a short time later, alternately belting out the choruses to \"The Stroke\" and \"My Kinda Lover.\" Two doors down, Sully mentioned something about a John Lennon yuletide carol, and before you knew it we were warbling \"Instant Karma\" at the tops of our lungs.\n\n\"Doesn't caroling make you feel like an erect nipple?\" Bottomfeeder effused as he surveyed the Blackberry he'd just lifted from underneath someone's tree. Since losing that plum role to David Faustino, my roomie's career had gone colder than Osama Bin Laden's trail.* This was the happiest I'd seen him in weeks.\n\n\"Nope,\" I responded, struggling to remain upright under the weight of an empty flask of bourbon. \"I'm beginning to feel like I'm part of a bad _SNL_ skit.\"\n\n\"Funny you should mention that,\" said Bottomfeeder, \"cuz later on we gotta meet up with Jimmy Fallon and some of his people and...\" He began ticking off a list of names of past and present _SNL_ cast members, but I'd already given myself over to the benumbing virtues of eggnog and bourbon and would soon be down for the count.\n\nI can't recall when, exactly, but something _did_ happen over the last holiday season. I had what philosophers and 12-step counselors refer to as a Profound Realization... an Xmas afflatus, if you will. It occurred to me that unlike most everything else here in this City of Angels\u2014this deeply flawed yet intoxicatingly effervescent convolution I call home\u2014Christmas Spirit is not something tangible, something you can buy at Fred Segal or order off the dinner menu at Spago. Christmas Spirit is powerful but ephemeral, not at all unlike when an infant passes one of their little gas bombs; you either pick up the unmistakable, overwhelming scent\u2014\"Aren't you a stinky little cutie?\"\u2014or it just slips right under your nose without your ever having caught the slightest whiff.\n\nOn the morning after the UBC caroling adventure the only thing I was smelling was the mephitic odor of stale beer, cigarettes, and other virulent vapors indigenous to the small, grubby one-bedroom apartment I'm forced to share with my roommate, one Mr. Bottomfeeder. There were no Christmas tunes playing when I awoke, hungover and sprawled naked on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles and half-smoked butts. Instead, thanks to the infernal Continuous Loop feature on the CD player, I was greeted by some screaming notalent trying to squeeze the last drop of blood from the lifeless corpse that was once the Seattle Sound. Call it the Grunge Who Stole Christmas.\n\nTalk about devastation. Just a few days 'til December 25th, and I was stuck in a filthy hole-in-the-wall apartment on the opposite coast from my family and loved ones, listening to an Alice in Chains cover band and reeking like something Bottomfeeder had dragged in.* To make matters worse, the thing he had dragged in\u2014some junkie he'd met underneath the Santa Monica Pier\u2014was lying in a puddle of her own vomit... in my bed. I remember thinking, \"This is no way to spend the holidays, no matter how much I deserve it.\" Next thing I knew, I was roaming the streets, nose tilted to the heavens, hoping beyond hope to pick up the vapor trail of Christmas Spirit.\n\n#   This One's for You, Bob\n\nA few weeks before Christmas 2006, several friends and I had traveled to Honolulu to see Pearl Jam open for U2 on the final stop of the latter band's _Vertigo_ world tour. It was an electric, emotionally charged concert with an unforgettable encore that featured both acts in a rousing cover of Neil Young's \"Keep on Rockin' (in the Free World).\" Outstanding as it was, however, the concert isn't my most cherished memory of our time in Oahu. Not by a long shot. Not after the day we spent with Bob Addobati. He isn't a famous musician, but at eighty-four years young Bob was by far the biggest star we encountered in Hawaii, and a big reason why there's still a free world for any of us to rock in. Bob is one of very few remaining survivors of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. He wasn't injured on that fateful day, although he lost his leg four years later in a torpedo attack while serving in the Pacific. After they fitted him with a prosthetic, he gave his country seven more years of service.\n\nWe met Bob and his daughters by the pool at our Waikiki Beach hotel, and before we could gleefully shout, \"booze cruise,\" the robust ole navy man was sea-bound with us aboard a catamaran sipping one-dollar Mai Tais and admiring what he politely referred to as the \"lovely tomatoes.\" For decades, Bob had been returning to Pearl Harbor to attend an official ceremony every fifth December, but this trip was to be his last. Bob said he realized that even a \"tough, one-legged SOB\" like him could not withstand the inexorable march of time. \"Who knows how many of us, if any, will be left five years from now?\" he wondered aloud. Shortly before we parted ways Bob patted me on the back and told me that spending the day with us had been \"a real gift.\" Indeed it was\u2014the best I've received in many years. For that, for everything, Bob, I thank you. We all do. _Mahalo!_\n\nIt was nowhere to be found at the liquor store, but I did procure a bottle of Baileys Original Irish Cream, the perfect holiday libation. I was damned determined to sniff out some undistilled Christmas Spirit, but I figured it would be wise to have a little something extra on hand to help put out any emotional fires... you know, should my quest take a turn for the worse. Next stop was the Record Cellar, where I bartered a few sips of Baileys for a used copy of _Elvis' Christmas Album._* Now it goes without saying that there has never been, nor will there ever be, a finer Christmas crooner than the King (with all apologies to Nat King Cole). And you can kiss my ass with that Bing Crosby crap! Elvis is the real deal. Could Bing Crosby have died on the shitter and still remained a bad mofo like E? I don't think so. So I popped in the CD and for an hour or so I was transported to a happier, more yuletidefriendly place. And right then I knew that in order to find and maintain the TRUE Christmas Spirit, I would have to inspire others with song, the way Elvis had inspired me. I had to go Christmas caroling again, and I had to do it right! I enlisted Bottomfeeder, who, despite his expansive list of shortcomings, possessed two things I did not: a guitar and the ability to carry a tune. I know, I know! Wonders will never cease.\n\nBottomfeeder and I set out into the unusually cold night with a song in our collective heart and the rest of the Baileys in my bag. We swung by O'Brien's pub, where, after a few glasses of fortified eggnog and a brief argument over whether or not to include the Bing Crosby parts, we delivered a rousing rendition of \"The Little Drummer Boy.\" Many of the bar patrons were visibly moved. So was Bottomfeeder. Without warning, he launched into \"All the Young Dudes\" by Mott the Hoople. Christmas fare it ain't, but dammit if we didn't rock the house something proper.\n\nThings didn't go as smoothly caroling door to door. In fact, several people threatened to shoot us with automatic weapons. And as if that weren't hairy enough, it got so damn cold down by the beach that Bottomfeeder's hand froze to the neck of his guitar and my lips congealed to my teeth. Consequently, for most of the evening I was forced to mumble every song in G. But we persevered. We played houses, bars, and restaurants. At one point, we had nearly two dozen people on the Third Street Promenade singing along to the all-G version of the Pretenders'\"2,000 Miles.\" We were boozed-up buskers making merry, and the feeling was sweeter than the smell of chestnuts roasting on an open fire or the sound of herald angels singing. It was later, outside a 7-11, just after a particularly rousing performance of the Kinks' \"Father Christmas,\" that I had a seriously out-of-body Christmas experience.\n\nA strong wind suddenly blew in carrying a strange silvery dust that caused everyone standing around to sneeze uncontrollably for nearly two minutes. When the snorting and wheezing finally died down, a little handicapped boy named Tiny Tom miraculously leapt from his wheelchair and shouted, \"God bless you, all of you,\" and started handing out Kleenex. Bottomfeeder and I knew we'd just witnessed a Christmas miracle. We hoisted Tiny Tom up on our shoulders and ran through the streets of Santa Monica, caroling at the top of our lungs\u2014simply having a wonderful Christmas time. A short while later we were picked up by the cops. After some serious explaining, Tom's parents agreed to drop all charges. They even let us sing the little guy a farewell song, Run DMC's \"Christmas in Hollis.\"\n\nThen I was walking home, and the night seemed slightly unreal. _Had it all been a dream?_ I stopped near a cliff and gazed out to the sea, blanketed as it was by a big, starry sky. These are indeed Strange Days, but I'm alive, life is beautiful, and it's Christmas time. The chill left my body and I felt more peaceful than I had in a very long time. I tilted my head back, breathed in the night air, and smiled, expecting to smell the ocean or perhaps smoke from a nearby chimney. Instead my nostrils detected something totally unexpected\u2014something wonderful...\n\nI smelled baby farts.\n\nNot that long ago I came across an interesting report in _Esquire_ about a professor at Carnegie Mellon University who has developed a set of goggles that translate speech in real time. I imagine a device like that might be useful in a nightclub\u2014say around 1 A.M., an hour when female patrons often say things to men that we can't understand, such as, \"No, I will not go home with you,\"\"Get that mistletoe away from me,\" and \"Beat it, loser.\" Yep, I bet a set of those goggles sure would make for an excellent Christmas gift, but then again, what do I know? Hell, it cracks me up whenever readers of my column write in to request holiday buying tips because, while I certainly have my finger on the pulse of the wine and spirits industry, when it comes to conventional \"gifting\" I'm all thumbs. Last Christmas, for instance, I gave my sister Gatorade. My brother got firewood. Mom said she loved her new FUBU rugby shirt, but I'm pretty sure she was just being gracious. My then-girlfriend, on the other hand, made little effort to hide her disappointment in our weekend getaway for six (me, her, and four of my buddies) to the world-famous EMR Paintball Park in New Milford, Pennsylvania. I learned my lesson, though\u2014next time I take a gal to play paintball I'm going to let her win at least one round. And from now on, everyone on my list is getting booze for Christmas.\n\nI've always enjoyed making lists. As a child I'd spend hours alone in my room with a journal meticulously recording my preferred bands, movies, and sports stars, just to name a few. As I grew older, lonelier, and, shall we say, more lugubrious, I'd often enumerate such things as favorite natural disasters, most despised historic figures, and hideous afflictions matched with people I wished suffered from them. Eventually my parents got me on medication, and most of the \"dark stuff\" went away. But my fondness for lists and pills endures to this day, one of the many reasons why I love being a journalist at Christmas, the most list-crazy time of the year. In fact, I just popped a few Xanax, made my Christmas shopping list, and checked it thrice to one-up that fat bastard Santa. I hope that some of you will find the following suggestions useful. Those who do not, well, you can ho-ho-blow-me and\/or skip ahead to Step 11. My editor has insisted that I pad the pages of this book with some practical information about alcohol and seeing that we're, oh, about five-sixths of the way through, I'd best be getting around to it. Okay, then, a boozy holiday gift list:\n\n**DaVinci 2004 Chianti Classico** ($24)\u2014You don't have to be a code-breaking symbologist with a bad hairdo to get to the bottom of this bottle. A well-balanced red with a spicy finish that pairs well with osso bucco or cheese ravioli. Ideal for an Italian-style Christmas celebration.\n\n**Riedel's \"O\" Martini Glass** ($25 per set of two)\u2014Part of the esteemed designer's stemless collection, the \"O\" glass's classic bowl sits atop a grooved and hollowed base. It's elegantly modern... just like me and you! Best thing is, \"O\" is half the price of the Riedel Vinum glass it's modeled after. And who doesn't love a good Vinum glass at Christmas, eh? (Definition of Vinum not included.)\n\n#   Our Spirits Survey Says...\n\nThe Christmas season officially begins at Thanksgiving, a tradition dating back to the early seventeenth century when the Pilgrims celebrated a successful harvest by inviting their Native American neighbors over for supper, then massacring them and stealing their land. In the spirit of \"give and take\" passed down by our ancestors, I'm GIVING some friends an opportunity to share the most important lessons they've learned about the Drinking Life, while TAKING a respite from the grind of serious spirits reportage. My best advice to you, friends, is to beware the freakin' Pilgrims\u2014they're ruthless SOBs, especially after they've been boozing. Here are some other nuggets of wino wisdom:\n\n**\"Bright blue is not a color that should ever appear in your glass after you've passed the age of six.\"**\n\n\u2014Terry Sullivan, contributing editor, _The Malt Advocate (What this world needs is more tolerance and understanding\u2014just ask the Native Americans\u2014so with that in mind, this Christmas Terry will be receiving a bottle of Hypnotiq, a mixture of vodka, cognac, and fruit juices that is as blue as the holiday season is long.)_\n\n**\"How is it that you can sue a cigarette company for cancer & McDonald's for getting fat, but u cant sue BUDWEISER 4 all the UGLY people u f\u2014 -?\" Hahahah!! This is what I have learned!!!\"**\n\n\u2014Tommy Lee, drummer, M\u00f6tley Cr\u00fce _(It should be noted that Tommy e-mailed this gem to me at four o'clock in the morning on a Monday. For being a good sport, he'll receive a case of Pilsner Urquell, the venerable brew from the Czech Republic that is clinically proven to reduce the risk of beer goggles.)_\n\n**\"The bathrooms are always farther away than you think.\"**\n\n\u2014Curtis Robinson, Crisis Manager to the Stars _(Curtis will surely enjoy his new \"Stadium Pal,\" a male catheter worn just like a condom in which pee is passed through a plastic hose and collected into a plastic bag strapped to the leg. We've come a long way since the seventeenth century, eh?)_\n\n**\"I'm on the Thirteenth Step of a Twelve-Step Program. Now I know why I drink, and I agree, I should be drinking.\"**\n\n\u2014Jackie \"The Jokeman\" Martling _(I should point out that Jackie quit drinking years ago. Good thing he hasn't stopped being funny.)_\n\n**Champagne Krug Grande Cuv\u00e9e MV** ($145)\u2014This bubbly is, quite simply, unforgettable. If I was being exiled to the proverbial desert island and could bring only five bottles of champagne (NO WAY I'm narrowing it down further), this one makes the cut. I'd also bring a bucket with ice... to the island, that is.\n\n**To\u00f1a Cerveza** ($7.99 per six pack)\u2014Give the beer lover in your life the first-ever Nicaraguan import widely available in the United States. This lager-style brew is named after a sexy Latina girl (is there any other kind?) and packs a wallop at 4.6 percent alcohol by volume.\n\n**St. Sup\u00e9ry Virt\u00fa 2002 White Meritage** ($30)\u2014I flipped (and subsequently injured my back) over this dynamic wine from Napa. It's a blend of Sauvignon Blanc and S\u00e9millon grapes harvested at night to maintain their ripe fruit flavor, because staleness, apparently, is afraid of the dark.\n\n**Ardbeg \"Airigh Nam Beist\"** ($115)\u2014\"Airigh Nam Beist\" (pronounced \"arry-nam-baysht\"), or \"the Beast,\" as it's known in some circles, is the new premium expression of Ardbeg, a lesser-known whisky in the U.S. market that is utterly revered throughout Scotland.\n\n**DH Krahn gin** ($27)\u2014Krahn is citrusy and dry, with heavy juniper notes that blossom in the finish. Distilled in Stupfler Alambic pot stills, the so-called \"Rolls Royce\" of copper Alambics. Tastes great with Schweppes, the \"bitchin' Camaro\" of tonics.\n\n**The Luxury Spirits of the Month Club** ($1,000)\u2014The lucky recipient of this high-end gift will receive a different bottle of premium hootch each month for an entire year. We're talking Johnnie Walker Blue in January, Bulleit Bourbon in May, and Clynelish 14-Year-Old Whisky in November, to name a few. Beats the hell outta Gatorade, don't it? (Purchase at www.luxurybar.com.)\n\n**Absente** ($35 per 750 ml bottle)\u2014Absinthe liqueur was banned in America in 1915 because it contained thujone, the hallucinogenic component in wormwood plants. This was unfortunate news for all the writers, poets, and painters who nipped absinthe to stoke their creative fires, but a victory for militant prohibitionists convinced that any liquid that made people feel exceptionally chill must be Devil's brew. Today, a similar strain of zealot is running this country and, as you might expect, thujone\u2014which admittedly sounds like something a dangerous foreigner might try to sneak onto a plane\u2014is still illegal. Absente is a 110-proof modern version of the infamous green hootch that contains \"southern wormwood,\" regular ole wormwood's less bitter, less thujone-y cousin. Is it a mere coincidence that President Bush pretends to be from the South and that southern wormwood is legal? Probably, yeah. But let the conspiracy theories roll anyway. Hell, slug some Absente to stimulate the paranoid synapses while you're working it all out. Here's how to prepare it: Place a sugar cube on a slotted spoon and hold it over a glass containing three ounces of Absente. Slowly drip three ounces of cold water over the sugar to dissolve it. Watch the Absente change color to an opalescent green. Drink... and away you go!\n\n**A Barrel of Jack Daniel's** ($9,000)\u2014If one bottle of whiskey just won't cut it, how about 240? That's how much hootch fills an entire barrel of Jack Daniel's Single Barrel Tennessee Whiskey. For roughly the cost of a Hyundai or a big night in Vegas, you get the bottled whiskey, the empty barrel in which it was aged, a brass plaque, and a framed certificate of ownership.\n\n**ZEN Green Tea Liqueur** ($30)\u2014While this isn't my cup of fortified green tea, Bottomfeeder went gaga for the stuff in a chilled shot called Zen Shui. It's made with an ounce each of gin and ZEN with a dash of fresh lime juice... Persian limes if you can get 'em.\n\n**Trump Vodka** ($40)\u2014It's no secret that the Donald likes to slap his name on phallic symbols and that there are only so many towers out there for the branding. Still, the guy claims to have never even tasted coffee let alone more intoxicating legal stimulants, so Trump peddling vodka seems as unlikely as Mel Gibson backing a line of designer yarmulkes. At the time of the brand's 2006 launch, the Toupeed Tycoon himself went on Don Imus's syndicated radio show to explain his decision, saying, \"I know it's like tobacco companies making cigarettes and then advertising 'don't smoke,' which I think is ridiculous,\" adding, \"but it's a legal product and if I don't sell it someone else will.\" Ah, I see\u2014so he's just trying to beat Ivanka and Donald Jr. to the punch. The people the King of Self-Glorification hired to promote his brand have dubbed Trump Vodka \"The World's Finest Super Premium Vodka,\" and while the folks at Ketel One and Grey Goose, among others, would certainly beg to differ, it says here that Trump is a well-rounded, competitively priced spirit. Esteemed master craftsman Jacques de Lat of Wanders Distillery, which has been producing vodka since 1631, makes Trump in Holland. It then goes into a distinctive bottle designed by famed artist Milton Glaser. And while DT was a bit off the mark in predicting that, \"By the summer of '06, I fully expect the most called-for cocktail in America to be the 'T&T,' or the 'Trump and Tonic,'\" history suggests one should never bet against this guy.\n\n**Reyka Vodka** ($23)\u2014Reyka comes from Iceland; so does Bj\u00f6rk. I dig Bj\u00f6rk, so I tried Reyka. It's good vodka. Not the Sugarcubes' _Life's Too Good_ good, but a damn sight better than Bj\u00f6rk's soundtrack for \"Dancer in the Dark.\"\n\n**Caravella Limoncello** ($17)\u2014Wanna get away? Turn up the heat in your apartment, squeeze into your bathing suit, slather on some Hawaiian Tropic, and serve the limoncello with unsweetened iced tea in a tall glass over ice. Add sugar to taste. Think summer.\n\n_____________\n\n* That hilarious \"Dick in a Box\" sketch with Justin Timberlake being the only notable exception in the past five years.\n\n* I sincerely hope that by the time this tome makes it into print, the evildoing Al Qaeda leader will have been captured and brought to justice, rendering this particular metaphor inapplicable. I'm also pulling for the Kansas City Royals to win the World Series.\n\n* When police discovered the corpse of Alice in Chains singer Layne Staley in his Seattle apartment in 2002, he'd been dead for nearly two weeks. Staley probably didn't smell very pleasant either.\n\n* \"Silent Night\" is guaranteed to melt your heart, but you can fix that with a little chilled Sambuca.\n\n# Step 11\n\n# I'm Only Hanging On to Watch You Go Down\n\nWhen the Beast's hired goons arrived at my door, I had an inkling that they hadn't come bearing good tidings. Large men with low IQs in the employ of unscrupulous attorneys seldom do. Fortunately, the cretins hadn't come to stomp my head in. One of them handed me a manila envelope while his associate documented the exchange with a video camera. Then, without saying a word, they left.\n\nThe envelope contained a note from the Beast demanding that I \"cease and desist with any and all creative endeavors related to the personal life of my client.\" The client he referred to was the unkempt, unemployed, unoustable slug who at that very moment was sprawled out on my sofa, wearing what had been my favorite pair of boxer shorts, and watching\u2014for the sixth time in half as many days\u2014a DVD copy of _Team America: World Police._\n\n\"Relax,\" Bottomfeeder said matter-of-factly as I wrestled with a nearly irresistible urge to throttle him once and for all. \"The letter's just a formality. You can keep writing about me in your little book thingy so long as a few conditions are met.\"\n\n\"Conditions?\" I growled.\n\n\"Yeah. Just a couple of deal points. No biggie,\" he replied, his eyes shifting back to the movie. \"Oh, this is the part where the puppets get it on. It's the best!\"\n\nThat's when I blew my top. I'm pretty sure my bottom dropped out, too.\n\n\"What _conditions,_ man?!\" I hollered. \"What the fuck more could you possibly want from me?!!!\"\n\n\"Whoa\u2014easy there, big man. There's no reason to go ballistic,\" Bottomfeeder said. \"In fact, you should be thrilled. You see, I want to play _you_ in my next movie.\"\n\nAs is so often the case when it comes to the utterings of my bloodsucking boarder, I didn't see that one coming.\n\n\"Me?\"\n\n\"Yes, YOU!\" he replied. \"Or at least a character based on you.\"\n\nAgainst my better judgment, I was intrigued. \"Really? Me? A movie? Wow! What's it about?\"\n\nBottomfeeder paused the DVD, sat up, and cleared his throat.* Obviously he was serious about this movie idea of his, and since the project potentially involved me and some form of financial remuneration, I tried my damnedest to overlook his being shrouded in nothing but underwear and the stench of whiskey combined with God knows what else while watching puppets give each other golden showers.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, shifting into on-the-lot pitch-meeting mode. \"Think _Barfly_ meets _The Bourne Identity\"_\n\nAdmittedly, I had a difficult time marrying two such divergent concepts. Then again, far crazier ideas were bandied about in Hollywood every day.*\n\n\"At first, this guy seems like just another down-on-his-luck hack writer\u2014he drinks too much, always rambling on about stuff nobody gives a shit about; a complete fuck-up with the ladies, flat broke... you know what I'm talking about.\"\n\n\"And this guy's based on me?\" I asked, as my enthusiasm took a sudden nosedive into an empty pool of disillusionment.\n\n\"Exactly,\" he said. \"But unlike you, this guy's not who he _appears_ to be.\" Then he leaned in close and lowered his voice. \"The writing gig is just a cover, see? He's CIA, anti-terrorism division, tracking Islamic fundamentalists who want to blow up America.\"\n\nI checked my enthusiasm for signs of life. There was still a pulse. So I inquired, \"You mean he's only _pretending_ to be a loser, when in reality he's a dashing spy who saves millions of lives?\"\n\n\"No!\" Bottomfeeder replied.\n\n\"No?\" I asked.\n\n\"There's a twist.\"\n\n\"But I thought his being a CIA agent instead of a writer _was_ the twist,\" I said.\n\n\"Yeah, that's the _first_ twist,\" Bottomfeeder explained, \"but these days you've got to have two twists... minimum.\"\n\n\"O-kay,\" I said warily, \"What's the second twist?\"\n\n\"Our guy's a traitor who is actually working _for_ the Islamic terrorists. He's planted dirty bombs in every major U.S. city and plans to detonate them on Christmas morning.\"\n\n\"So let me get this straight,\" I said. \"Instead of redeeming himself by saving the country from evildoers, this poor, drunken, sexually frustrated bullshit artist who is based on me turns out to be a ruthless mass murderer?\"\n\n\"Yep!\" he beamed. My enthusiasm was dead. He'd pulled the plug.\n\n\"Doesn't seem like a particularly heroic role for an actor, does it?\" I posited.\n\n\"That's where the third twist comes into play,\" he countered.\n\n\"Oh, the third twist,\" said I. \"And what, pray tell, is the _third_ twist?\"\n\n\"Just as this guy's about to blast the U.S. of A. back to the Stone Age, it suddenly dawns on him what a complete piece of shit he's been his entire life\u2014try and picture him illuminated in this, like, really bad-ass otherworldly glow while he's having this profound realization. So then there's this montage in which he goes around the country and personally disarms every one of the bombs... dressed up like Santa, cuz it's Christmas. And then when he's done, he takes his own life to ensure that he'll never be able to hurt anyone ever again.\"\n\nI groaned. \"He kills himself to save the world from himself?\"\n\n\"You got it! That way I get to play the villain _and_ the hero,\" Bottomfeeder said. \"It's total duality-of-man type shit. People love that. Plus, my new agent is trying to negotiate a double billing in order to increase my quote. What do you think?\"\n\n\"Sounds awesome,\" I sighed, thinking better of expending the sort of energy it would take to muster the appropriate level of sarcasm.\n\nThen there was a knock at the door.\n\n\"That must be them,\" Bottomfeeder said, getting up to answer it.\n\n\"Who?\" I asked.\n\n\"My new agent and our producer,\" he replied. \"I asked them to drop by with the deal memo.\" Bottomfeeder opened the door to reveal Fisher* a middle-aged Chinese man in a green leisure suit named Fong, and a guy toting a video camera who looked as if he'd just stepped out of a '60s surf movie. Fisher was carrying a six-pack of Smirnoff Ice.\n\n\"There he is,\" Fisher said with loud, feigned enthusiasm as he made his way over to me. He shook my hand and lied, \"I've been meaning to call you to talk about some stuff in the offing, buddy.\" I hadn't heard from him in months, since the Fox deal fell apart. \"Have you met Mr. Fong?\"\n\n\"No,\" I said, \"but I'm familiar with his work,\" recalling an expensive white dress shirt I'd taken to Fong's dry-cleaning joint that had come back pink and missing several buttons.\n\nFisher handed me a Smirnoff Ice. \"Are you getting this?\" he said to the surf dude with the camera, who nodded and made a twirling gesture with his finger.\n\n\"Oh, right\u2014could you turn the bottle around so the label is visible, please? Thanks,\" Fisher instructed me.\n\n\"Who's the guy with the camera?\" I asked.\n\n\"That's Art,\" Fisher said. \"He'll be documenting the making of the film from beginning to end.\"\n\n\"The making of the film?\" I asked incredulously. \"So does that mean you've secured studio backing already?\"\n\n\"Oh, there'll be no studios on this one. We're hoping to finance the entire film with money raised from liquor companies,\" Fisher gushed. \"Product placement is where it's at these days.\"\n\nArt waved at Fisher and made a \"U-like\" gesture with his finger.\n\n\"Dan, would you mind smiling a little more while you're holding the Smirnoff Ice?\" Fisher said. \"They gave us a little seed money.\"\n\nFong lit an unfiltered Pall Mall.\n\n\"Don't film that,\" Fisher told Art. \"I'm trying to work a sponsorship deal with Marlboro.\"\n\n\"Look,\" I said, \"I find it hard to believe that you're going to be able to line up enough liquor companies to fund something so ridiculous. A movie like this would cost at least fifty million. Have any of them seen the script?\"\n\n\"There's no script yet,\" Fisher replied. \"We haven't settled on a writer, but we've narrowed it down to two USC film school applicants.\"\n\n\"What about me?\" I couldn't believe I found myself asking.\n\n\"I suggested you, of course,\" Fisher said, \"but Smirnoff Ice wants someone a little more seasoned for this project. But, hey, I'm going to have you meet with them while you're in New York. If they like you, maybe we can score an associate producer's credit or something.\"\n\n\"New York?\"\n\n\"You didn't tell him?\" Fisher asked Bottomfeeder.\n\nIt turns out my space invader had had an idea about how he might best research the role of a sad-sack spirits scribe. He wanted to travel to New York City with me for a long weekend in which we would\u2014as he put it\u2014\"play the press card\" and abuse my position in the media in a most egregious manner.\n\n\"Call up some publicists and work your magic, man,\" he said. \"We need luxury hotel suites, expensive bottles of booze, fancy dinners, and limousines. All comped, of course. We have to push this thing as far as we can and then some. My acting teacher says the purest expression of the art form can only be achieved through total immersion into character.\"\n\nI told Bottomfeeder he was crazy if he honestly believed I'd jeopardize my career by calling in favors from publicists for _his_ benefit. Hell, the away-from-home perks of my job were the only things left he'd yet to take from me.\n\nWith that, he pulled out his cell phone and started dialing.\n\n\"Who are you calling?\" I asked.\n\n\"The Beast,\" Bottomfeeder shot back. \"I'm gonna have him put the kibosh on that book of yours before it even has a chance to collect dust in the discount rack at Sam's Club.\"\n\nSo maybe it wasn't my proudest moment, but twenty-seven hours and fourteen calls to publicists later, Bottomfeeder and I\u2014resplendent in our Smirnoff Ice sweatshirts\u2014checked into a luxurious suite at the Dream Hotel in midtown Manhattan. From there, we made our way over to yet another fat room I'd secured at an Irishthemed hotel called the Fitzpatrick, where we left Art the surfer-documentarian. This would turn out to be an unwise decision on a number of levels, as it happened to be St. Patty's Day weekend and Art was of Celtic lineage, which, he would later tell hotel security, explained his lust for fermented beverages. He had a more difficult time, however, accounting for the impromptu \"studio\" he'd set up to videotape \"auditions\" for aspiring \"leading ladies.\" Perhaps I could have done something to stop Art but alas, at the time of the alleged incident, I was busy unpacking a particularly fine array of single malts with Fong\u2014who I'd gotten set up at the historic **Algonquin** \u2014over at my _other_ other room at the 70 Park Hotel on Thirty-eighth Street.\n\n#   An Ode to Dorothy Parker\n\nAfter a century in business, midnight comes easy to the Algonquin Hotel in midtown. Whenever I drop by to indulge in the quiet elegance of the place, my thoughts turn to the great spirits writer Dorothy Parker. It was, after all, Parker (not your crazy cousin) who invented the oft-used phrase \"I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.\" If she had a dime for every time somebody stole that zinger, she'd still be dead. But somebody would be rich. And I think she was writing about drink when she said: \"Salary is no object. I want only enough to keep body and soul apart.\"\n\nMs. Parker and the hotel she helped make famous are more Makers Mark neat than bourbon and Coke; more martini than vodka soda. I gathered this information from someone who'd know\u2014the head bartender at the Algonquin's Blue Bar, one Mr. Hoy who, at ninety years old and still pouring at this writing, is well versed in the classics.\n\nIt was wrong, all of it. My philandering ways had finally come full circle: sure, I'd been unfaithful to more than a few girlfriends in my time, but until that point I'd always been up-front with publicists. As I emptied the contents of the minibar at 70 Park, I remember experiencing something akin to acute stomach cramps. The feeling, a friend would later explain, was guilt. It's an inconvenient emotion, that one, although clearly not problematic enough to have induced me to curtail my bad behavior. Aw, hell, in my heart I'd always known the day would come when I'd drive the freebie train off the tracks\u2014it's a predictable result in an industry set up so that some people are paid to give things away while others get paid to take them. In that regard spirits writing is just like taking part in politics or the People's Choice Awards.\n\nUnder the terms of the settlement, details regarding most of what went on that weekend cannot be included here. Besides, given the ridiculous amount of alcohol that was consumed, my memory of events is no better than a Bush administration official's at a congressional inquiry into the cause of... well, everything. I can tell you that one of the low points of our NYC excursion occurred shortly after I'd executed a perfect \"freeloader flush\" at the Dream Hotel. This move, familiar to anyone who's hosted a hospitality suite, is when you manage to get all your drunk friends, acquaintances, and hangers-on out of the room without any of them noticing that you, all the **free booze,** and the hottest chick at the party have stayed behind. Trust me, this is a complicated maneuver made all the more tricky when dealing with guests such as Bottomfeeder, who would rather shit thumbtacks than willingly abandon a room that is better-stocked than the captain's chamber on Ted Kennedy's yacht. Fortunately, I'd had the foresight to arrange for an open tab at the White Horse Tavern and to start a rumor that DeNiro was over there drinking beneath the largest of that establishment's numerous paintings of Dylan Thomas. Indeed, Bottomfeeder et al. did not go gently into that good night. They went noisily, reciting memorable lines from _Raging Bull._\n\n#   The Beverage Program for the Dream Suite Soiree\n\n_Spirits:_\n\nGrand Marnier Cuv\u00e9e du Centenaire\n\n10 Cane Rum\n\nHennessy Cognac\n\nChopin Vodka\n\nThe Glenmorangie \"Sherry Cask Finish\" Single Malt Scotch\n\n_Champagne\/Sparking Wine:_\n\nVeuve Clicquot La Grande Dame 1996\n\nDom P\u00e9rignon Vintage 1998\n\nTaittinger Comtes de Champagne Ros\u00e9 1999\n\nDom Ruinart Blanc de Blanc\n\nDomaine Carneros 'Le R\u00eave' 2000\n\nTaittinger Comtes de Champagne Blanc de Blancs 1998\n\n_Wines:_\n\nTenuta San Guido Sassicaia, Bolgheri Sassicaia DOC 2003\n\nTenuta San Guido Guidalberto 2004\n\nAbadia Retuerta Pago Negralada 2002\n\nTenute del Cabreo 'Il Borgo' IGT 2003\n\nMichele Chiarlo Barolo 'Cerequio,' DOCG 1999\n\nLouis Jadot B\u00e2tard-Montrachet, Grand Cru 2004\n\nBodegas RODA, RODA I 2002\n\nTenuta Sette Ponti 'Oreno' IGT 2004\n\nSequoia Grove Cabernet Sauvignon 'Rutherford Reserve' 2004\n\nWild Oak by St. Francis Chardonnay 2005\n\nI remained at the Dream with a jaw-dropping dream named Ava, who had recently been \"involved\" with this guy Channing whom I sort of knew from the old Aspen days. In what I have to concede was an admirable bit of overachievement on the bet-hedging front, Channing had not only invited Ava to my suite party, he had brought along another rod-busting beauty he'd been courting by the name of Tessa. Allow me to make my case as I did during what's become known as the \"morning after 'man rules' powwow.\"\n\nLet's say a friend... okay, someone you know*... asks you to take what could be considered a trusted wingman position. Your mission is to distract Girl A* while he pursues his interest in Girl B.*\n\n\"The question before the assembled is: did Dan betray the wingman position?\" Bottomfeeder posed as he sipped his third pre-noon Smithwick's at the Pig 'n' Whistle at Third and Fifty-fifth. And it must be noted that not since the day after the Hiroshima bombing had a group of survivors looked as ragged as our lot did.\n\n\"No fucking way,\" I protested. Then I proceeded to build my case: first off, Tessa... er, Girl B... A... whatever... Tessa, while an exemplary female specimen, was no Ava, five-time MVP of the League of Her Own. This called Channing's man-judgment into question. Second, I told him the moment he approached me with his duplicitous scheme that there was a definite vibe between Ava and me, thus giving him every opportunity to lay down ground rules, reconsider his options, or seek another wingman who didn't have the key to the hotel suite along with a reputation for womanizing that was only slightly more notable than that of Charlie Sheen.\n\n\"Sure, but it's quite a leap to go from running interference to having Ava alone in your hotel suite at 2:30 in the morning,\" Art interjected.\n\n\"Not really,\" I rejoindered, \"because he left with Tessa and never came back!\" I paused for a moment to let the implications of that dubious action sink in. Everyone knows that the statute of limitations for wingman loyalty is, at best, an hour in an \"abandonment\" situation... and even shorter when there's an open bar involved.\n\n\"Besides, all we did was talk,\" I continued, pounding the bar to punctuate the certitude with which I held my own innocence. \"Yes, she wound up spending the night, but only because we fell asleep watching a movie. No bodily fluids were exchanged.\"\n\nThis raised everyone's eyebrows... including those of bar patrons we didn't know.\n\n\"You didn't even kiss her?\" Fong gasped. It should be noted that whenever Fong opened his mouth to speak, which was a rare occurrence indeed, what came out invariably sounded like a gasp\u2014the result of his having been a smoker since age seven.\n\n\"Nope,\" I attested.\n\n\"Why not?\" Art asked.\n\n\"She said she only wanted to cuddle.\"\n\nThere was a collective groan. Most red-blooded males will tell you there's nothing worse than an attractive potential paramour who only wants to cuddle. It's like a perfect storm of frustration: she's inviting physical contact, which makes her seem willing or at least semi-gettable, while at the same time extinguishing any real hope you might have of putting Percy in the playpen on the first try.\n\n\"Please tell me you tried to use some cuddle-escalation techniques\n\non her,\" a distressed Art begged, his tone a few octaves higher than normal.\n\n\"Didn't want to,\" I replied coolly. \"Ava's different. I think I might love her.\"\n\nThe words hit them like a pie to the face\u2014a lead pie, glass face. Imagine Hugh Hefner announcing he was going to date women his own age, Bill Maher swearing his allegiance to Karl Rove, or Raymond Teller* suddenly breaking into song. For a long moment, they all just sat there in stunned silence.\n\n\"I thought this day might never come again,\" Bottomfeeder announced finally. Then he gave me a hearty pat on the back. \"Congratulations, my friend. If you're really, truly ready to love again, Ava is the right kind of woman to do it with.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Fong concurred. \"She total piece ass.\"\n\n\"Ava's an A-list Betty, that's for sure,\" Art nodded.\n\n\"But I'm still not convinced of your innocence vis-\u00e0-vis Channing,\" Bottomfeeder said. \"After all, he had dibs on Ava, even if he did get temporarily waylaid chasing Tessa.\"\n\nIt was time for me to put my final piece of evidence into play\u2014the bloody glove, if you will. I pulled out my Blackberry, called for quiet, and replayed the message Channing had left at 3 A.M. after he'd struck out with Tessa and discovered that Ava's ship had also sailed... with me battening down her hatches.\n\n\"Hey Dan, it's Channing... I just wanna make sure we're clear about the shit you pulled with Ava... make sure you delete my number... you're a total fucking two-timer... fuck you... I wish I'd never met you.\"\n\nThe expressions on their faces said it all\u2014the tribal shame hung in the air like the stench of post\u2013St. Patty's Day vomit. Then again, it might have been the _actual_ stench of post-St. Patty's Day vomit. Finally, someone mustered the strength to say what we'd all been thinking...\n\n\"Delete my number? Two-timer? Wish I'd never met you?\" Art repeated, taking a long, contemplative pull off his beer. \"Holy shit! That dude went all _chick_ on you!\"\n\nIf they say \"holy shit,\" you must acquit! My case, as they say, was rested. But the issue was far from settled. There was still serious mocking to be done.\n\n\"You know what you need to do,\" Bottomfeeder announced. \"You need to _out-chick_ him.\"\n\n\"Out-chick him?\" I queried.\n\n\"Yes,\" he nodded. \"Call him back and tell him that if he ever comes near you again you'll scratch his eyes out.\"\n\nThat cracked everyone up. Hell, even Fong was laughing.\n\nArt added, \"Then you need to text him and tell him that outfit he was wearing made him look fat.\"\n\nHooting and hollering all around. Then a random old guy at the end of the bar chimed in, \"Tell him his shoes didn't match, either.\"\n\n\"Do shoe slams really piss them off, old-timer?\" I yelled over to him.\n\n\"Why d'ya think I'm here instead of at home with my wife?\" he replied.\n\nThe financing for the booze writer\/terrorist film never did materialize. When the brass at Smirnoff Ice saw the grisly video Art shot in New York they threatened to sue unless the footage was destroyed and their seed money returned with interest. After that, the best gig Fisher was able to land Bottomfeeder was fifth billing in a low-budget romantic comedy starring Steven Seagal. As for the poor kid Fisher had hired to pen the screenplay, he didn't get into USC film school, never saw a dime for the story outline he'd completed, and eventually was forced to take a job working the steam press at Fong's dry-cleaning shop. On the bright side, Fisher retained the kid as a client and even landed him a few gigs as an audience member.\n\nI performed some damage control with the publicists before leaving New York, and upon my return to California did some soul searching. \"Besotted\" might be the best description for my condition throughout the weekend in the Big Apple, although witnesses have reported that I was \"plastered,\" \"lit,\" and \"completely fuddled.\" My memories of the weekend's proceedings are foggier than the third act of _Cape Fear,_ but I seem to recall an incident involving an overzealous bathroom attendant and some flying urinal cakes that led to my being forcibly removed from the lobby of yet another posh hotel. I lost my wallet sometime during that same evening, which explains why I wound up having such a hard time with that manager at the Taco Bell. And what does it say about our society when an upstanding member of the media like myself can't even be trusted to make good on a promise to return with the dough for a lousy Super Value Meal?\n\nStill feeling the lingering effects of a hangover nearly a week after the Channing\u2013Ava affair, it dawned on me that perhaps I had seen the bottom of far too many cocktail glasses in my time and that perhaps it was time for a change. Then I recalled something the great philosopher Jack Handy once said...\n\n\"Sometimes when I reflect back on all the beer I drink I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. Then I say to myself, 'It is better that I drink this beer and let their dreams come true than to be selfish and worry about my liver.'\"\n\nBesides, nobody likes a quitter.\n\n_____________\n\n* Imagine the sound an old garbage disposal makes, only significantly less sonorous.\n\n* You can keep your Yanomam\u00f6 Indian jokes to yourself, thank you very much.\n\n* You _did_ see that coming, right? Please, people, try to pay attention.\n\n* In this case, Channing.\n\n* Ava\n\n* Tessa\n\n* Penn's dance partner.\n\n# Step 12\n\n# Congratulations, You've Completed the Program and Are Now Eligible to Begin a Far Less Glamorous One\n\n_\"Every now and then you run up on one of those days when everything's in vain... a stone bummer from start to finish; and if you know what's good for you, on days like these you sort of hunker down in a safe corner and watch. Maybe think a bit. Lay back on a cheap wooden chair, screened off from the traffic, and shrewdly rip the poptops out of five or eight Budweisers...\"_\n\n_\u2014From_ Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas _by Hunter S. Thompson_\n\nI met Hunter S. Thompson in 1995 in Aspen, Colorado, at a place called the Howling Wolf, a cozy coffee shop-cum-watering hole that at the time was the nexus of the town's political culture. I believe it's a Starbucks now. I was a cub columnist at the local paper and had recently run for mayor in a hotly contested election. Truth be told, most of the heat was generated by the other two, more legitimate candidates; I was in the mix, it was widely assumed, for comic relief. But as he would later confess, Thompson saw something in me that I certainly didn't know existed at the time, and when he led the charge to defeat a controversial ballot initiative designed to subvert Aspen's long-standing growth-control measures, the Good Doctor enlisted my help to rally the youth vote. We won the ballot vote, and in the course of doing so forged a volatile friendship that I'm now remembering yielded numerous head-busting hangovers, a few knock-down, drag-out brawls out at Owl Farm, his fortified compound in Woody Creek, and\u2014on one particularly harrowing evening\u2014a close encounter with the business end of one of Hunter's pistols.\n\nHunter was famously fond of his guns, and on a Sunday afternoon in February 2005 he used one of them to take his own life. Why he chose to pull the trigger remains a mystery to me to this day. Despite his oft-repeated belief that confession is good for the soul, he didn't leave behind much in the way of an explanation. He'd had some health problems in the years leading up to his death, and was as volatile a human being as they come. But suicide? _Hunter?_ It's hard to believe that all the fear and loathing in the world could ever break the spirit of Gonzo.\n\nAs I sit here reflecting upon the day I heard the awful news, it dawns on me that this is the first time I've ever written something about HST without worrying how he'd react to it. The man was fiercely protective of his image and privacy, and anybody fortunate enough to be invited into his circle of friends knew that whatever happened at Owl Farm, stayed at Owl Farm. But I have one memory I think it might be appropriate to recount here.\n\nA few days prior to the aforementioned ballot vote, we hosted a voter registration rally at a nightclub followed by a wild party at the Wolf. Unbeknownst to me\u2014until it was far too late\u2014Hunter had\n\nanointed me his designated driver. When I informed him that copious quantities of bourbon had rendered me unable to fulfill that duty, he let loose with an expletive-filled earful, then set out on his own into the night. I arrived home at around six o'clock that morning to find a message Hunter had left on my answering machine half an hour earlier. He'd been busted by the cops for driving under the influence, and was certain his arrest was retribution for our antiestablishment political activities. He wanted me to warn our crew to watch their asses.\n\n\"Stay off the streets, for chrissakes,\" he said in that distinctive mumble of his. \"If we're not careful they'll kill us all.\"\n\nThey didn't\u2014kill us, that is\u2014and after a highly publicized trial, Hunter beat the DUI wrap. At a post-courthouse victory celebration, I apologized yet again for my role in the whole ordeal and told Hunter I was glad he'd avoided a jail term that might have derailed our righteous movement.\n\n\"Nonsense, bubba,\" he said. \"Nothing can stop this train.\"\n\nI believed him. Still do. I'm just sad as all hell that our brilliant, mad conductor decided it was time for him to get off.\n\nThey say all good things must come to an end, and of late I've been wondering how often that old saw might apply to this book. The part about it being good, that is; there's no doubt it's coming to an end.... Having begun this undertaking a good many years ago, it's with a combination of elation and wistfulness that I commit this final chapter to print. I'm just now realizing that I've left some loose ends untied, however, and that the possibility exists that some of you actually give a shit. Here, then, are brief updates on a few of the characters I introduced to you in this tome:\n\nFollowing our return to the States, Dead Air Dave spent a few lean years bouncing around the Phoenix radio scene until it dawned on him that the desert is really fucking hot. So he split for the cooler pastures of Sacramento, California. The preponderance of those livestock-stocked pastures, combined with the dearth of much anything else in that godforsaken place, apparently drove Dead Air to the brink of madness and, if news reports are to be believed, led him to commit any number of unnatural acts with sheep. He got fired from his job up there, too. Last I heard he'd moved to Europe and was palling around with Count Esconsio in Florenze.\n\nExtremely hot, eardrum-shatteringly loud in the sack, and relentlessly unavailable to either me or the rest of the dudes in my apartment building, my neighbor the Screamer was to sexual conquests what a World Series title is to the Cubs of Chicago\u2014always there and ripe for the picking yet agonizingly unattainable (unless, of course, the boys from Wrigley manage to win the title while this book is in print\u2014in which case, congrats! Yeah, right.). Whenever I fantasized, even momentarily, about bedding the Screamer, and yes, that happened often, I smiled like Boston Red Sox fans the moment it first hit them that they were no longer the sorriest saps in America's pastime.\n\nAt this point I should, however, mention that I neglected to fill you in earlier on an interesting bit of information concerning the Screamer. A few weeks after we met we'd gone out to a local wine bar where, during the course of what would turn out to be a very memorable evening, she filled me in on what she did for a living.\n\n\"I'm an adult entertainer,\" she had revealed, carefully studying me for a reaction as she sipped her cabernet.\n\n\"You don't say,\" I did say, upon which I think my eye twitched or, possibly, popped out of its socket. Unsure of what to do or say next, I smiled nervously and knocked back an entire glass of Inama's Vigneti di Foscarino.*\n\nMy guess is that many of this book's likely readership may be intimately familiar with the Screamer's body of work and would no doubt flip were I to reveal her stage name. I'm not gonna do that, though, out of respect for the Screamer's privacy, and because I once got the shit kicked out of me for a similar transgression involving another acquaintance from the adult film industry. Boy, that Rosie Folds packed a mean punch. Rosie and the Screamer aside, I haven't befriended many porn stars, so I can't say with certainty that a majority of them are, in fact, normal. But I can tell you that the Screamer seemed pretty darn well adjusted for a gal who made her living having every one of her orifices breached on camera by magnificently endowed dudes so denoted by names like Buster Hymen and Rod Swollen.\n\nSure, the Screamer's breasts had been surgically enhanced more times than Joan Rivers's cheekbones, and her Quintuple-Ds got more exposure than the Hilton sisters. As a result of all the surgery, her nipples were situated up around her shoulders. And because they pointed so prominently skyward, the FAA banned her from wearing tight shirts near airports for fear she'd inadvertently bring down a jetliner or two. All in all, though, the Screamer I knew was a lot like many women: she looked forward to someday getting married and raising a family. She enjoyed traveling, doing yoga, and dancing\u2014sometimes even without pasties and a pole.\n\nEventually, as is common among those in her line of work, the Screamer was \"saved.\" Not by Evangelical Christians or anything like that, mind you, but saved\u2014literally\u2014from drowning, naked, in a pool filled with Jell-O at a promotional appearance in Lansing, Michigan. So smitten was she with her savior, a brawny pipe fitter from Detroit named Lou, that the Screamer abruptly quit the adult film business and moved to the Midwest. A few months ago I received an e-mail from her saying that she and Lou had relocated to Vegas, where she strips and he deals blackjack. They like to swing, too, the Screamer and Lou.\n\nGlenda the Dirty Ho and Tommy Barnard: theirs was an unlikely union that seemed destined to fail from the get-go, but not even the most pessimistic of prognosticators could have predicted the tragic fate that would befall the West Coast's most notorious hogriding whore and the lying sack of shit\/former best buddy o' mine she fell for. Details are sketchy, but according to a source at the New Orleans police department, Glenda and Tommy were last seen alive sometime around April near the Ninth Ward lean-to they'd illegally holed up in following a quickie wedding performed by a witch doctor in the French Quarter. Neighbors reported that in the months leading up to their end the couple had had several violent encounters, mostly stemming from Glenda's refusal to stop turning tricks. She'd had a storied career as a streetwalker, and in New Orleans she was treated like a celebrity of the sex trade. Her being so in demand fed an insane jealousy that grew and festered inside Tommy. Word has it he was even more pissed at having to pay for Glenda's services even after he put the ring on her finger. Serves the cheap son-of-a-bitch right for going with cubic zirconium.\n\nGlenda couldn't have known what Tommy was planning when he suggested they take the Harley out for a spin one Sunday afternoon, so for the first and, as it turned out, last time ever, she let him drive the bike. The coroner's report concluded that both of them died instantly, which I imagine to be the case almost every time a motorcycle slams head-on into a tractor-trailer towing a fleet of Lincoln Navigators. When they searched the Ninth Ward lean-to Tommy and Glenda had shared, investigators discovered a sealed envelope he'd left behind. It was addressed to me. Inside was a \"Dirty Ho\" patch Tommy must have surreptitiously removed from Glenda's jacket, an old photo of Tommy, Sylvia, and me in better days, and a note that read simply, \"Thanks for the memories, boss!\"\n\nSylvia up and left without warning and took my heart with her. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but the truth is I really do miss that woman. She's got a way about her. Don't know what it is, but I know that I can't live without her. She's once, twice, three times a lady: a kindhearted woman who studies evil all the time. We shared the laughter and the tears, and even shared the pain. Hell, Sylvia was the\n\nonly one who really knew me at all. And while I can't recall if they're green or they're blue, hers are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen. I loved when she breathed out, so I could breathe her in. In fact, I resolved to call her up a thousand times a day, and ask her if she'll marry me in some old-fashioned way. But my silent fears have gripped me long before I reach the phone; long before my tongue has tripped me... must I always be alone?\n\nIn short, reflecting upon Sylvia is like having a collection of sappy song lyrics stuck in your head. Yet no matter how much I sometimes wish she were still around, in the immortal words of Hall & Oates, she's gone... oh, I... oh, I... I better learn how to face it.\n\n\"So this is it, huh?\" Bottomfeeder said as, coincidentally, I'd just finished typing those very same words.\n\nI looked up at him and noticed he was drinking one of my beers and wearing my favorite Meat Puppets T-shirt. He smiled at me the way a kid smiles at his mother when he's caught with his hand in the cookie jar and, for the first time in a long while, I smiled back. Behind him near the door sat two suitcases and several cardboard boxes. After five years of living on my sofa rent-free and with full (though never fully granted) access to my food, beer, and cable TV, Bottomfeeder was finally moving out.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I replied, \"this is it.\"\n\nThere ensued a long silence during which Bottomfeeder scratched himself and I struggled to reconcile the feeling of reliefthat\n\ncame with knowing I was about to be rid of the freeloader with the nagging suspicion that I was going to miss him terribly. It dawned on me just then that the strangest dude I'd ever known\u2014shameless lout and incorrigible rabble-rouser that he was\u2014had pulled some sort of fast one on me over the years and thereby morphed into my best friend. I couldn't say that out loud, not yet at least, so instead I pointed awkwardly in the direction of the beer. Or maybe it was the T-shirt.\n\n\"You never really did grasp the concept of _my_ stuff, did you?\"\n\nHe threw his hands up in the air in a mock show of surrender. \"Guilty as charged,\" he confessed. \"But I can't help it if I'm a communist, now, can I?\"\n\nOf course he couldn't. It wasn't his style. Bottomfeeder didn't just dance to the beat of a different drummer, he played the damn things himself, upside down and with cement drumsticks. Sure, I may have feigned incredulity in this book over his becoming an overnight Hollywood sensation as well as over his many sexual conquests, but truth be told I always knew the guy was destined for greatness. I mean, how many other people do you know who can fart the theme to _Sanford and Son_ while gargling single-malt Scotch? Damn straight I'm gonna miss him... even with Ava coming out from New York to stay with me for a while.\n\n\"You moving in with Kirsten Dunst?\" I asked.\n\n\"Nah,\" Bottomfeeder replied as he slung a weathered travel bag over his shoulder. \"That didn't work out too well. I probably should have lied when she asked what I thought of _Mona Lisa Smile._ I think she's seeing David Faustino now.\"\n\n\"The little guy from _Married... With Children?\"_\n\n\"Yeah. The prick!\"\n\nAs it turned out, Bottomfeeder had a new girlfriend named Soo Jin. He met her in the Bay Area on the set of that Seagal movie he did in the wake of the Smirnoff Ice debacle. She's a turbo-kickboxing instructor who served as a technical adviser on the film. While demonstrating some moves for the B-feeder she accidentally kicked him square in the mug and busted his nose. He claims he fell for her right then and there.\n\n\"I'm headed up to Frisco for a few weeks to hang with Soo Jin,\" he said as he opened the door. \"We're going to work on some Democratic fundraisers, tour Napa, maybe even try and save some endangered species. You know, like the manatees.\"\n\n\"There are no manatees in San Francisco, man,\" I advised.\n\n\"Damn! We're too late,\" he sighed.\n\n\"What about the rest of your things?\" I asked him. \"Those boxes and suitcases there?\"\n\nHe inspected them thoughtfully. \"I think most of it is yours anyhow. But I'll send for it once I get to Soo Jin's place.\"\n\nThen there was silence again. I had a sinking feeling in my gut much like the one I imagine Tom Cruise's publicist must have had the moment he got up on Oprah's couch.\n\n\"Before you go, I just want to say that\u2014\"\n\n\"Don't,\" he cut me off. \"I already know. And I feel the same way. Non-sexually, of course. Just promise me something, will ya?\"\n\n\"What's that?\"\n\n\"That you won't get gooey and sentimental about all this in your book.\"\n\n\"I won't,\" I promised. \"But you know, man, it really has been quite a ride.\"\n\n\"You're acting like it's all over,\" he countered. \"Truth is, bubba, the adventure is just beginning!\" And with that, Bottomfeeder gave me a quick thumbs-up, turned, and walked out the door.\n\nAnd now the time has come for me to exit as well. Before sitting down at the computer to wrap this up, I flipped through a copy of _Bartlett's Familiar Quotations_ looking for a powerful utterance from some great mind to use as an exclamation point to this tome. _Bartlett's_ is full of big ideas and inspirational messages, but with all due respect to Gandhi, Ben Franklin, Bob Dylan, and the various other celebrated philosophers in the book, I found what I was looking for from a most unlikely source:\n\nTruth is, bubba, the adventure is just beginning!\n\n**THE END**\n\n_____________\n\n* Inama comes from Veneto, an old part of the Old World whose wines reflect the area's rich history. Few places in Italy are suited for the production of great white wines, but the fertile volcanic soil in the vineyards around Monteforte d'Alpone yields delightful Soave. Inama's 2004 \"Vigneti di Foscarino\" Soave Classico is a definitive example of the lively, sweet, and almond-y characteristics of the best Soaves. Vigneti di Foscarino is a very balanced and therefore very drinkable wine. And when I say balanced, I'm talking about a state of harmony between that which is sweet and that which tastes sour\u2014the two main components of any white wine.\n\n# Epilogue\n\nOne Tuesday night in August 2004, my mother did something she hadn't done in many, many years: she had a few drinks, and called me the next day to extol the subtle virtues of Frontera Merlot and Amstel Light. When I asked what special occasion had prompted her to lift her self-imposed ban on booze, Mom told me that she and her husband of twenty-three years had been sitting around the house on a warm summer's evening when they suddenly decided to more or less tie one on. It's a touching story under any circumstance: dancing cheek to cheek on the back porch with a long overdue buzz and her \"best friend,\" she said, was about as much fun as she'd had in years. It's funny how the simplest pleasures can remind us why we call them \"spirits\" and how much moderate drinking can add to the miracle of every day.\n\nA few nights later, on August 20th, six months to the day before Hunter S. Thompson took his own life, my fifty-three-year-old stepfather, John Taylor\u2014a captain in the Philadelphia Fire Department\u2014entered a burning house from which he would not come out alive. He died trying to save one of his men, Rey Rubio, whose gear had gotten tangled up in some wiring in the basement. According to reports, while engulfed in flames and blinding smoke it had become clear to John that they were in dire straits, so he told a rookie firefighter named Bill Studley to grab hold of the fire hose and follow it out to safety. When Bill protested\u2014wanting to stay and help\u2014John sternly \"reminded\" him that he was the captain and ordered the rookie to get out while there was still time. Then John did something impossibly heroic: he used up every last breath he had in him trying to rescue firefighter Rubio. When their bodies were recovered, John was lying behind Rey and it appeared as though he'd been trying to use his shoulder to push his colleague free from the wires. That, my friends, is the ultimate definition of \"having your buddy's back.\"\n\nIn the wake of John's death, the outpouring of support for my family was overwhelming. Firefighters from all over the country attended the funeral, along with the mayor, the fire commissioner, and a host of other dignitaries. U.S. Senator John Kerry called my mother to offer condolences; prayer cards from total strangers were delivered in bundles, and a gift arrived from none other than \"Rocky\" himself, Sylvester Stallone. Ironically, Capt. John Taylor, one of the lowest-key and most private men I've ever known, would have blanched at all the fuss.\n\nI believe this book is something my stepdad would have been very proud of, and I plan to celebrate its completion in a way he would have appreciated: with an ice-cold beer, a glass of Merlot (Frontera, of course), and a heavy dose of Creedence Clearwater Revival, J. T.'s favorite band. I can picture my mother dancing with him on the back porch the night of their impromptu final date, with John Fogerty plaintively serenading the fine couple: \"Put a candle in the window, 'cause I feel I've got to move. Though I'm going, going, I'll be coming home soon, 'long as I can see the light.\"\n\nIf you get a minute, I hope you'll raise a glass with us.\n\n# Acknowledgments\n\nWithout Curtis Robinson's tireless efforts on my behalf, this book would not have happened. Thank you, CR, for being the best editor and friend I've ever had. And if I didn't know she's far too intelligent to ever agree to do so, I'd ask Shelby Sadler to marry me. At the very least, Shelby, please promise you'll work with me 'til death or legal wranglings do us part. And speaking of fine editors, I offer my eternal gratitude to Keith Wallman at Thunder's Mouth for his many invaluable contributions\u2014foremost among them having the good sense to make an offer in the first place. And I shudder to think what sort of hideous experience this would have been without the support and guidance of my beautiful and talented literary agent, Jennifer Unter.... And thank you, Alix Strauss, for connecting us. My Hollywood agent, Jeff Aghassi, has stuck by me through thick and thin... mostly thin, but certainly not for lack of effort. Hang in there, Jeff\u2014the best is yet to come (I hope). Muchas gracias to Craig Outhier, with whom I have written five unsold screenplays. Here's hoping the sixth one is the charm. Thanks to Caroline Bodkin, Chris Wanjek, and Aurli Bokovza for reading early drafts and offering much-needed encouragement. And I love you, Lisa Hennessy, 'cuz you're one of the most ass-kicking human beings on the planet. Big ups to my boys Z, Moke, Butler, Mysterious Messier, Botox, Art, Joe K, and Craig-O.... And, of course, I get hot and bothered just thinking about Steph and Crisi. Terry Sullivan got me started in the booze-writing biz, so blame him for all this. I'm grateful to all the folks I've worked with at Metro over the years, particularly Mark Moore, Steve Morris, Peggy Onstad, Michael Freidson, Kenya Hunt, Nadia Croes, Dorothy Robinson, Pat Healy, Sara Hauff, Caroline St. Pierre, and Maggie Samways. Other newspaper and magazine people I've had the good fortune of crossing paths with include Brian Harris, Ed Baker, Greg Trinker, Brent Gardner-Smith, Carolyn Sackariason, Ben Gagnon, David Gadd, Janet O'Grady, Cam Benty, and the inimitable Dave Danforth. Oh, and thank you, Brian \"Pool Boy\" Hightower, for facilitating the fauxbear-skin-rug encounter in Aspen. Good times, my friend, good times!\n\nOkay, then, some more fine people worth mentioning... Dennis McGlinn, Doug Brinkley, John Oates, Mark Steines, Tommy Lee, Danny Leiner, Dominique Paul, Harrison Star, Dead Air Dave, JC and Jacqueline, Alli Joseph, Anita Thompson, Beth Lerch, Kimberly Goodman, everyone from _Talk Soup,_ Dale de Groff, Sarah Lopez, Tim Beggy, Jessica Beeman, Joe Quigley, Gavin McCrary, Ross Furukawa, all the Philly peeps, particularly Scott Annis, Bob La Brum, Sean McGovern, Ed Dietzel, Billy Nickels, Sean O'Hagan, Jerry Green, Rich Jolly, Marc Dent (aka, the artist formerly known as Captain Nightlife), Andreas Pukis, Ed Ludwig, Ken Knecht, Joe Knecht, Kevin von Arter, Paul McKenna, the Karch brothers, Jimmy Arleth, Steve Miller, Sean Stevens, and Rick Baskin. Special thanks to the Philly firefighters, for everything.\n\nAnd it would be great if you'd buy several copies of this book because I mention you here Meg Noone, Nicole Somers, Jackie Martling, Hammy, Dave Collard, Jason Auslander, the INXS boys, Layne Beachley, Marcos Efron, Wes and LJ, Meg McElwee, Chrissy Doyle, Andre Compeyre, Joanna Brown, Monique Helstrom, Mike Wastvedt, Ashley Perkins, Chris Dodson, Nathan Hatton, Jon Burk, Jason Forge, Bruce Kerr, Dennis McGee, Jen Tatko, Jeff Pogash, Barry Smith, the Shack crew, Steve Skinner, John Bennett, Amanda Hathaway, Alex Ankeles, Bob Braudis, Kent Smith, Mark Burnett, Ed Calesa, Scott Cru, Sherri Graff, Paul Levine, Wayne Ewing, Bas Pot, Willy and everyone from O'Brien's, Gita Sweeney, Kelly Chambers, Ava Riccio, Cassandra Many, Pete McBride, Leigh Spencer, Meg McElwee, Dan Stadler, and Shahin Henrikson.\n\nTo my beloved Philly sports teams... thanks for nuthin', you bums!\n\nTo all the girls I loved before.\n\nThank you, HST, wherever you are.\n\nThanks to Bono, Edge, Larry, and Adam for making such beautiful music together.\n\nThank you to everyone I should have mentioned but neglected to. Please don't take it personally. I drink a lot.\n\nThree cheers to my crazy, wonderful, weird family: aunts, uncles, cousins, and all other variations of kin.\n\nAnd finally, all the love I have to give goes out to John, Lauren, Brian, Sean, and Caitlin. Your strength is my inspiration.\n\nThanks, Dad. You're my rock.\n\nI love you, Mom. Always.\n\n# About the Author\n\nDan Dunn pens his weekly wine and spirits column, \"The Imbiber,\" for Metro International Newspapers and runs the popular Web site theimbiber.net. He has been a guest on radio and television programs, including _The Henry Rollins Show_ and the CBS show _Rockstar._ He is a former staff writer for the TV show _Talk Soup_ and freelance joke contributor for SNL's \"Weekend Update.\" A prot\u00e9g\u00e9 of the late Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, Dan's work has appeared in _GQ, USA Today, The Los Angeles Times, LA Style, Entertainment_ Weekly, and _Aspen Magazine._ He lives in Santa Monica, CA.\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":"\n\nE-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Mary Meehan, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team (http:\/\/www.pgdp.net)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 36054-h.htm or 36054-h.zip:\n      (http:\/\/www.gutenberg.org\/files\/36054\/36054-h\/36054-h.htm)\n      or\n      (http:\/\/www.gutenberg.org\/files\/36054\/36054-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAST OF THE VIKINGS.\n\nby\n\nJOHN BOWLING\n\nAuthor of \"Brailsford: A Tale of West Riding Life,\" etc.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLondon:\nSimpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co.\nLeeds: Henry Walker, Briggate.\n\nPrinted by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury\n\n\n\n[Illustration: SAXON AND VIKING. \"THE CURSE OF SKULD BE UPON THEE,\nTRAITOR!\"]\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n         I. ETHEL\n\n        II. STORM CLOUDS\n\n       III. TRAITORS IN COUNCIL\n\n        IV. DEFEAT\n\n         V. DESPERATE RESOLVES\n\n        VI. BARON VIGNEAU\n\n       VII. ALICE DE MONTFORT\n\n      VIII. VILLAINS PLOTTING\n\n        IX. VILLAINS OUTWITTED\n\n         X. A FRUITLESS EMBASSY\n\n        XI. OSWALD'S DEFENCE OF HIS CASTLE\n\n       XII. ALICE DE MONTFORT SETS FREE THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN\n\n      XIII. BARON VIGNEAU BALKED OF HIS REVENGE\n\n       XIV. THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN CONFRONTS DE MONTFORT\n\n        XV. OUTLAWS AND WOLFSHEADS\n\n       XVI. SIGURD THE VIKING\n\n      XVII. EVIL COUNSELLORS\n\n     XVIII. LOVE IS STRONGER THAN HATE\n\n       XIX. ALICE DE MONTFORT AND THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN\n\n        XX. WAR'S VICISSITUDES\n\n       XXI. VIKING CHIEF AND SAXON MAIDEN\n\n      XXII. A VIKING'S LOVE\n\n     XXIII. A VILLAIN DEMANDS HIS WAGES\n\n      XXIV. THE TRYST\n\n       XXV. BADGER CRACKS THE NORMAN'S PATE\n\n      XXVI. SAXON AND VIKING AT THE SWORD'S POINT\n\n     XXVII. JEANNETTE AND WULFHERE; OR LOVE'S COMEDIES\n\n    XXVIII. A GRIM TEMPLE, A GRIM PRIEST, AND A SAD HEART\n\n      XXIX. EDGAR ATHELING\n\n       XXX. PRINCE AND PARASITE\n\n      XXXI. PRINCE AND VIKING\n\n     XXXII. BADGER ON THE ALERT\n\n    XXXIII. DOG ROBS DOG\n\n     XXXIV. WILD DARING OF SIGURD THE VIKING\n\n      XXXV. THE SAXON DEVIL AND THE WICKED ABBOT\n\n     XXXVI. LOVERS PLOTTING\n\n    XXXVII. THE JOUST: SAXON AND NORMAN\n\n   XXXVIII. THE SAXONS' REVENGE\n\n     XXXIX. BEWARE THE VIKING\n\n        XL. THE HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN\n\n       XLI. NOBILITY IN CONTRAST\n\n      XLII. VIKINGS ALL! AN OLD TIME SAGA\n\n     XLIII. THE CONQUEROR CONQUERED\n\n      XLIV. THE LAST OF THE VIKINGS\n\n       XLV. SUNSHINE HAS ITS SHADOWS\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nSAXON AND VIKING. \"THE CURSE OF SKULD BE UPON THEE, TRAITOR!\"\n\nALICE DE MONTFORT SETS FREE THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.\n\nTHE SAXON CHIEFTAIN CONFRONTS DE MONTFORT.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE.\n\n\nFrom \"Smith's History of Old Yorkshire\" we learn that one Arthur Clapham\nin the year 1066 was possessed of several hides of land near Lambeth in\nSurrey, and also of the domain of Clapham in Yorkshire. But by opposing\nthe Conqueror he lost his lands in the South of England. He then fled\ninto the wilds of Craven in Yorkshire, and built a stronghold, on the\nbrow of Ingleboro', (the remains of which are still visible) and he\nfounded the village of Clapham in the valley beneath. In 1068, however,\nthe said Arthur by marrying a daughter of Robert, Earl of\nNorthumberland, was restored to the confidence and favour of William,\nand had lands granted to him in Lonsdale.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAST OF THE VIKINGS\n\n(_From the Monastic Chronicles of ----._)\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nETHEL.\n\n            \"Be just and fear not.\n    Let all thou aim'st at be thy country's,\n    Thy God's, and truth's.\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\nI, Adhelm, Abbot of this monastery of ----, being eye-witness, and\nlikewise participator in the unhappy times my beloved country was\nsubjected to, in consequence of the Norman Conquest and the troublous\ntimes which followed, it occurred to me to make a record of these things\nafter the example of the beloved Bede, whose \"Chronicles\" are so justly\nesteemed by those who are concerned in the history of our ancient race.\n\nI would have it known, then, by all those who are interested in the\nmatter, that this ancient monastery was founded by that wise and good\nking, Alfred, who assigned unto it, for revenue, one hundred and twenty\nhides of land; all of which was well wooded and watered, being fertile\nand free. That is, with sack and sock, toll and team, and infang-thief.\nIt pleased him also, in furtherance of his purpose, to lay charges upon\ncertain thegns and nobles, who had lands adjacent to this monastery\nassigned to them by him, that they should annually pay to the monastery\nfor the maintenance of the brotherhood, and for the purpose of defraying\nthe cost of its extensive charities and hospitalities, one hundred and\nfifty loads of wood, and twenty-five loads of <DW19>s; together with\nthirty-five tuns of pure ale; seventy beasts, ready for slaughter;\ntwelve hundred loaves; fifty-six measures of Welsh ale; sixteen butts of\nwine; six horses; and one hundred and thirty pounds, ten shillings, of\nmoney. Now, as to all other matters, such as the particulars of lands\nand farms, church and cloister, granges, Abbot's and Prior's lodgings,\nwhich may be of interest to some, but which are not material to this\nnarrative; I refer all such to our carticularies, in which all these\nparticulars were carefully noted by our sacristan. Enough, however, has\nnow been said to show that in the merely worldly point of view, this\nmonastery was, when in peaceful enjoyment of its emoluments, a\nfoundation of no mean order. In consequence also of its bounties it\nattracted palmers, minstrels, newsbearers, from all parts of the\nkingdom. Thus I had exceptional opportunities of learning how the\nkingdom fared.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAdown the valley one bright September morning, in the year 1066, was\nspeeding Ethel, the only daughter of the Danish thane Beowulf, who is\nlord of the domain of Rivenwood, and whose hall looks down from the\nwooded heights in the distance like a grim sentinel. This fair girl\nEthel was probably not more than fifteen years of age--just at the\njuncture where coy and blushing maidenhood, with its unconscious\nassumptions of grace and dignity, joins issue with the freer and bolder\nmanners of girlhood, and when the wholesome, innocent, and graceful\nblending is wholly interesting, and often most piquant. Most piquant\nindeed, at all events, was this graceful specimen of budding womanhood.\nHer brow was open and expressive, her countenance somewhat broad, in\nsympathy with her manner of life; the free, unfettered, and merry\nout-of-door life of sylvan England. Her blue eyes glanced, and sparkled,\nand glowed, betokening a mind responsive and alert as the falcon which\nperched upon her embroidered leathern gauntlet. Her nose was perfectly\nstraight, but had just so much of an upward trend as to indicate the\npoint positive, and the attitude--\"beware all.\" Upon her head she wore a\nsort of cap of blue silk, broad at the crown and drooping over the broad\nscarlet band with which it was bound. In the front of this head-dress\nstood erect a couple of eagles' feathers; whilst from underneath it the\nflaxen curls, like the fetterless things they were, burst luxuriantly,\nand circled across her forehead and over her ears; and though the wanton\ntresses were captured again at the back of her head, yet they burst away\nagain and ran riot over her shoulders and down to her girdle. Of\njewellery, she wore a handsome gold torc which encircled her neck, on\nwhich, and on the pendants attached thereto, were skilfully engraved\nstrange mystical runic devices. She wore a mantle trimmed with fur,\nwhich on this occasion flowed loosely down her back, leaving free her\narms, but which, at needs be, became a cloak covering the upper parts of\nher body entirely. Her under dress was of woollen material and\ntight-fitting, whilst her sandals had a stout sole of leather with\ntoe-piece and overstraps of prepared deer skin. Accompanying this fair\ngirl was a favourite maid, and one of her father's housecarles who\nfilled the office of ranger and provider for the household, in the\nmatters of fish and game. At his heels there followed a couple of dogs,\nwhilst on his left arm there perched a falcon with all his furniture on.\nOn Ethel's arm also there perched another falcon, ready for flight.\n\n\"Let the dogs go now, Bretwul, for we should have good sport hereabouts,\nand have a capital view of it too, on this hillside,\" said the maiden.\n\nAt a word of encouragement from Bretwul the dogs, with wagging tails,\nimmediately clapped nose to ground, and commenced threading in and out\namongst the gorse and brushwood to start the game. Presently a loud\nfluttering of wings and a scream, sent the hawks into a violent\nagitation, and a handsome-plumaged pheasant took to wing. Ethel\nimmediately whipped off the hood of her hawk, and quick almost as a\nflash of lightning it covered the helpless quarry. Then down it swooped,\nand a struggling mass of feathers and mingled plumage came fluttering to\nthe ground.\n\n\"Oh, that is wretchedly poor, Bretwul!\" exclaimed Ethel impatiently. \"I\nlike a good long chase which puts master Grey-eye thoroughly upon his\nmettle. Such sluggard creatures as that one are poor sport. Come, let us\nclimb higher, for amid yon gorse and bracken on the hill we shall meet\nwith partridge, moorfowl, or perhaps, better still, a woodcock. Then we\nshall test the mettle of little Grey-eye.\" So together they clambered\nthrough the brackened steep, until they reached the fringe of the\nheather which crowned the brow of the hill. Soon they espied a covey of\ngrouse racing along before them stealthily amid the cover; but promptly\nthese sprang aloft with whirring sound of wing, and loud, peculiar\ncries. Ethel again unhoods her favourite falcon, Grey-eye, and flings\nhim towards the game. But the falcon has another matter in hand than\nthat of bringing down a sluggard pheasant; for moorfowl, when fairly on\nthe wing, scud along like the wind. Immediately also when they perceived\nthe enemy in pursuit they changed their tactics, and, quitting the\nmountain side, made a dart for the valley, where shelter was to be had.\nPlump and heavy, the descent suits them more than the falcon; and with\nimpetuous whirl they rush along with incredible speed. It seems as\nthough the hawk will never head them! The valley is reached, and the\nmoorfowl, flying low, are hidden from view by the tops of the trees; but\nthe hawk can be seen scudding along above them.\n\n\"Oh, my poor Grey-eye, you are beaten this time, I do believe!\" cried\nEthel. But just at that moment there was an arrow-like swoop. \"Bravo!\"\nshe shouted. \"He has struck his quarry, for he never swoops to miss!\nCome along, Bretwul, or he will gorge himself, and then he will fly no\nmore to-day, the greedy little glutton!\" Then away she raced down the\nrough declivity, leaving her maid panting and trembling far behind.\n\n\"There she goes! there she goes! Plague on the girl!\" ejaculated\nBretwul. \"Did ever mortal see such a girl? She's like a two-year-old\nfilly that has never had bit in mouth or harness to back; and if she\nthrow out a splint or strain a fetlock, why then the old thane will\ncozen my back with a cudgel, and call me a lazy lout of a churl. Come\nalong, Eadburgh, my buxom lass, I have finished my wattled cote in the\ndell yonder, and if we come well out of this, we'll get the girl to\nwheedle the master for us, and then it will be done in a twinkling; for\nhe's ready enough when Dame Ethel lays on the butter.\" So together they\nstumbled after their mistress with might and main.\n\nBut the girl mood was uppermost in the damsel now, and away she flew\ndown the hill with her long hair streaming behind her, giving never a\nthought to man or maid. She came to a halt, however, when she reached\nthe spot where apparently Grey-eye had made his swoop. But not a trace\nof either falcon or victim was to be seen. In vain she blew a tiny\nsilver whistle with which she was wont to call her hawks. There was no\nresponse. \"The greedy fellow is gorging himself I doubt not, Bretwul,\"\ncried Ethel impatiently. \"If you feed him before flying he is too lazy\nto exert himself, and if he hunt on an empty stomach he must needs turn\nglutton after this fashion.\"\n\nAt that moment the clear blast of a hunter's horn in the distance broke\nupon the ears of the three seekers, and Ethel, hastily turning in the\ndirection, exclaimed, \"Oh, dear me! Eadburgh, straighten my hair for me,\nquick. Do I look a gowk? Do be quick! Straighten my cloak out. Those\ngallant gentlemen are returning who would not let me take part in the\nboar hunt because I was a _girl_, honest Beowulf was pleased to say. But\nMaster Oswald was no better, though he has spent so much time about the\ncourt, and, I am told, carried off the Queen's favour at the tilt ground\nat Westminster, and that too against the picked squires of Normandy. I\nsuppose I was only a _girl_ in his eyes too, though he was not pleased\nto say it, like Beowulf. Never mind, I will let them see I can amuse\nmyself, and find good sport too, without them.\"\n\nPresently a couple of horsemen issued from the forest, clad in hunters'\nattire, with a green baldric over their shoulders and down to their\nwaists, from which was suspended a hunter's horn. These two were quickly\nfollowed by a retinue of rangers, serving men, and hounds, with the\nweapons of the chase--boar spears, javelins, and short swords; whilst\nover the backs of a couple of horses were thrown the carcasses of a pair\nof wild boar, the fruit of their morning's chase.\n\nNo sooner did these young chieftains set eyes on Ethel than the\ncountenance of the younger of them was wreathed in smiles, and snatching\nhis bugle from his belt he blew a mocking blast in the ear of the\ndamsel; then, in the blandest of tones, and with an assumption of mock\ngallantry, he saluted the maiden: \"Bon matin, madame. Are you taking a\nlittle _gentle_ exercise in company of your maid?\" and he doffed his\nhunter's bonnet and made a most pretentious bow.\n\n\"I beg your pardon, gallant sir,\" retorted Ethel, with a gracious\ninclination, parodying with inimitable grace and humour his mock\ngallantry, \"but if it please you, sir, I am not taking a little _gentle_\nexercise in company of my maid, I am hawking, as you may easily see if\nyou care to.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see quite easily, madame. So you determined to have a little\nsport all to yourself because we disdained the company of a lady at our\nboar hunt?\" said the young man, with a twinkle in his eye.\n\n\"You have hit it quite wonderfully, sir; which is very remarkable. We\ntake note of your behaviour, for, although we do not go to court, we\nhear about your pranking it about with grand Norman dames and knights\nerrant, and we expected something quite different from you than from\nBeowulf here. But I have lost my hawk hereabouts, so make amends for\nyour past conduct. Get down, brother Beowulf; and you too, sir; you have\ntravelled in France, so show your chivalry and your gallantry by getting\ndown and helping me seek my hawk.\"\n\n\"I bow most humbly to your imperious commands, noble lady,\" said Oswald\nagain, doffing his bonnet in mock humility.\n\nMeanwhile, honest Beowulf sat almost dumbfounded whilst this passage of\nwit was proceeding, though he only dimly comprehended what this\nnew-fangled jargon meant; but his choler was rising rapidly during the\nprocess. \"Now, drop it fooling, you two!\" he at length broke out. \"You,\nEthel, would imitate Master Oswald and be off to court too, for all your\njapes and jokes about his pranking and parading it with the grand folks,\nif we did not tie a clog about your neck for you. I know very well what\npasses in that jay's noddle of yours, though you think I'm a numskull,\nMistress Ethel.\"\n\nThis outburst of sturdy Beowulf's was greeted by the pair with a shout\nof hilarious laughter.\n\n\"Now don't make asses of yourselves,\" grunted brother Beowulf.\n\"Whereabouts did you lose your hawk, Ethel?\"\n\n\"Why, hereabouts, Beowulf. Did you not hear me? He was pursuing moorfowl\nfrom the hill, and he appeared to strike his quarry just in this place.\"\n\n\"If that be so, I warrant the headlong flight of the stricken bird would\ncarry them much farther down the <DW72>,\" said Oswald.\n\n\"A bright idea, I do declare, Master Oswald,\" exclaimed Ethel. \"We never\nthought of that, Bretwul. You will gain some repute for wit, neighbour\nOswald, if you brighten up like this.\"\n\n\"I am much obliged for your condescension, lady; I feel highly honoured\nand greatly flattered by your compliment;\" and again he made pretence of\na low obeisance.\n\n\"Oh, don't take it too seriously, sir; but we will take your hint,\nnevertheless.\" So the party extended their search, and presently they\ndiscovered the falcon and his prey beneath a tree--the hawk having\nimproved the time by stripping the bird of its plumage, and gorging\nhimself with the flesh and blood of his victim.\n\n\"There, you greedy creature,\" exclaimed Ethel, as she set eyes on the\nfalcon. \"You will fly no more to-day, I suppose, you glutton! I think\nyou had better hood him at once, Bretwul, and take him home; and I will\njoin this party of gallants--by their permission, of course--and if they\nshould now deem it quite safe for a lady to do so.\"\n\nSo the two young chieftains and Ethel headed the company, and steadily\nthey pressed homeward to the rough and primitive, but nevertheless\nhospitable hall of Beowulf the Dane.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nSTORM CLOUDS.\n\n    \"Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news\n    Hath but a losing office; and his tongue\n    Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,\n    Remembered knolling a departed friend.\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\n\"Whilst the cooks are busy with our spoil, Beowulf, I propose we\npractise at the joust,\" said Oswald. \"Rumour hath it this Count William,\nof Normandy, is collecting an army in order to eject our rightful Saxon\nking, Harold, from the throne, and ere long we may have these Norman\nknights tilting through the ranks of our simple yeomen, who are unused\nto this method of warfare; and King Harold and his brothers would be\npleased to have sturdy comrades who would be a match for the Norman at\nhis own weapons,\" remarked Oswald.\n\n\"Leave the joust to Norman <DW2>s, say I, neighbour Oswald, and their\ntilting methods to our hardy pikemen, who will know how to deal with\nthem, never fear. The honest Saxon broadsword is a match for any weapon,\nI warrant you. As for this new-fangled Norman joust, as they call it,\nwhy I despise it. Playing at war, with women looking on, and waving\ntheir 'kerchiefs, and simpering, and whimpering about--bah! I wonder\nyou'll meddle with such stuff, neighbour!\" growled Beowulf\ncontemptuously.\n\n\"Thank you, Beowulf, for your compliments, but if I am permitted to\nwitness your feat of arms, I'll endeavour not to 'simper and whimper\nabout' if it annoys you. But you men folk can find nothing better to do\nthan play at war, I know, and therefore I rule it shall be with both the\nbroadsword and lance,\" said Ethel.\n\n\"Agreed!\" cried Oswald; \"and our fair cousin Ethel shall be queen of\nbeauty _a la joute_.\"\n\n\"Mind you don't make a fool or a dolt of yourself, neighbour Oswald,\nwith your Norman fooleries. But I'll humour you in your folly for the\nsake of a bout with the broadsword, in honest Saxon fashion,\" growled\nBeowulf.\n\nWhen they reached the hall the two young men retired to the armoury, and\npresently reappeared clad in complete armour, several lances being borne\nby the housecarles. The pair then sprang into their saddles, and Oswald,\npartly to joke his opponent, careened round in a circle, mimicking the\ngallantry of the Normans, displaying the paces of his charger and his\nskill in horsemanship. As he passed Ethel, in mock seriousness he dipped\nthe point of his lance in salutation of her as queen of beauty. Ethel\nendeavoured to disguise it, but the crimson blushes suffused her\ncountenance for an instant; but there was a quick revolt of maidenly\ndignity; her eye flashed, and her foot beat the ground impatiently, as\nshe exclaimed under her breath,--\"I presume he thinks I am but a child\nto tease and joke.\"\n\nPresently the pair took up a position some twenty paces apart, and\nprepared to charge. Ethel, fearful of her brother's temper, which was\nmost uncertain, cried to them, \"Will you remember this is but play, and\nsee you two don't come to blows in good earnest? for I know by\nexperience that brother Beowulf flies into a rage with me if I poke fun\nat him, and what he will do if you poke him in the ribs with that ugly\nweapon, Master Oswald, I know not.\"\n\n\"Go to, wench, your tongue is too ready! You would be better seen\nsuperintending the wenches who are roasting hogsflesh, than wagging your\ntongue in the presence of men.\" Then, turning to his friend and comrade\nOswald, he said, \"Now, sir, are you ready? Let us be done with this\nNorman folly as soon as maybe.\"\n\nSo they laid their lances in rest, and prepared to tilt. Oswald was much\nmore tall and lithe than his opponent, and much more skilful in the\nhandling of his charger. Indeed, it seemed almost as though one mind\nanimated the pair. Beowulf was rather older, bulkier in build, and\nbetter set up, being twenty-three. But he cherished a deep-rooted\naversion and contempt of the Norman leaven which had been stealing over\nthe land during the late reign of Edward the Confessor, and his pet\naversion was the mode of warfare current amongst Norman gentlemen; and\nso he never practised it, except on occasions like the present.\n\n\"Now, sirs,\" iterated Ethel, still fearful, \"and especially you,\nBeowulf, don't get mad and knock each other's heads off, I tell you\nagain!\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue, chattering magpie, and go inside as I bid you! That\nis where petticoated jades like you should be when weapons are about,\"\nsaid Beowulf. \"Now, come on, sir. If we listen to her she'll prate like\na half-fed fowl by the hour together.\"\n\nSo the tilt commenced, and continued for some time, more in play than in\ndead earnest, Oswald showing his superior skill by striking Beowulf how\nand where he pleased, at the same time handling his horse so perfectly\nthat Beowulf found no opportunity of striking him squarely. The rough\nknocks which he receives, and his want of skill, are most exasperating\nto Beowulf, especially so when at last by a skilful manoeuvre Oswald\nflings his charger's flank round, bringing his head broadside on of his\nopponent, and then ignominiously tilts him out of his saddle to the\nground. Beowulf sprang to his feet, mad with rage, and shouted,--\n\n\"Come down from that perch! I'll soon give you quits with a better\nweapon!\" and away he marched for a couple of broadswords.\n\nForgetting her dignity in her anxiety over Beowulf's temper, Ethel\ntripped up to Oswald and with girlish freedom grasped his arm. \"Now,\nMaster Oswald, you have driven Beowulf mad, as I thought you would. If I\nmay use his not very complimentary term, I would say, Will you, to\nplease a _jade_ like me, take care to come off second best in this\nsword-play, if it be only to mollify him? for if you don't I am afraid\nhe will be quite furious.\"\n\nOswald laughed and stroked the fair hair of the maiden as he remarked,\n\"It is well advised, my bright-eyed little dame; I do believe that fair\nface is index to a kindly and wholesome mother-wit.\"\n\nPresently Beowulf returned with a couple of broadswords, but his temper\nhad abated nothing in the interval. The quick-witted and irrepressible\nEthel noticed this at once, and she banteringly called out to him, \"Now,\nbrother Beowulf, remember this is only sword-play. Don't go and cut\nMaster Oswald's head off!\"\n\n\"What! you are still there, are you, jade? I saw you titter when Master\nOswald pushed me out of the saddle. When I've dealt with him, I'll give\nyou a taste of an ash sapling, since you won't mend your manners when\ntold.\"\n\nEthel burst into a most provoking, merry laugh. \"Thank you, brother\nBeowulf, for your good intentions; but haven't I told you many times\nbefore, that ash sapling hasn't grown yet?\"\n\n\"Go to, you chit, you provoke me past endurance!\" and he made for her in\nan ungovernable rage; but Ethel turned and fled like a gazelle, and\nBeowulf knew by past experience that to catch the fleet-footed maiden\nwas a hopeless task, so he returned to his sword-play.\n\nThe diversion of Beowulf's wrath, however, did good, and especially as\nOswald took Ethel's hint, and was clearly second best. So Beowulf's good\nhumour was completely restored when Ethel pronounced Oswald victor at\nthe joust, and Beowulf at sword-play. Then Ethel grasped Beowulf's arm,\nand they adjourned to the hall.\n\n\"How shocking of you, brother Beowulf, to talk of using an ash sapling\nto a young lady! You quite humiliated me in Master Oswald's eyes.\"\n\n\"Now go to, Ethel! If you don't give up teasing me I shall do something\nto you I shall have to repent of some time.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, you won't, brother Beowulf, I know better than that,\" said\nEthel, with true sisterly affection.\n\nThe castle, or what is more correct, the hall of the Thane Beowulf made\nno pretension to architectural style or beauty. It was like its master,\nrough, but stout and of massive build. One saw the stoutness of its\nwalls by a glance at its deep mullion windows, and its massive doors,\nformed of double layers of oak, securely fastened and strengthened by\niron bands and bolts. In the large hall there was set a long table down\nthe centre, loaded with viands and large jugs of ale. Down each side of\nthe hall also there were side tables, where the housecarles and villeins\nfed. But the centre table was reserved for guests, and the more favoured\nretainers of the thane. A glance round the hall told at once that\nBeowulf still held by the heathenish customs which his viking ancestors\nbrought over with them. For, conspicuous everywhere, upon wood and stone\nand vessels, were carved the characters and devices of their\nsuperstition, known as runes. Here and there also there looked down upon\nthe banqueters the carved images of Thor and Woden.\n\nOn the thane's right hand sat his daughter Ethel, who, since the death\nof her mother many years ago, had become a greatly privileged object of\nhis affection. On his left sat Oswald, son of a Saxon chieftain who had\nextensive lands in a neighbouring valley. At the foot of the table sat\nhis son, who took his own name of Beowulf.\n\n\"I hear you have been out hawking to-day, Ethel girl,\" said the grizzled\nold thane, turning to his daughter.\n\n\"Yes, father, brother Beowulf said it wasn't fitting for a girl like me\nto go to the boar hunt, and Master Oswald then, to his shame, never\nspoke a word in my favour, so I must needs perforce stay at home.\nTherefore I went out hawking; for brother Beowulf kindly allows that.\"\n\n\"Ha, ha!\" giggled the old thane gleefully; \"thou art a wild slip of a\ngirl; too much wit for honest Beowulf. But curb thy tongue,\" he\ncontinued, stroking her fair hair. \"He means thee well. He is honest, is\nBeowulf, and brave too. He will do! He will do! Like his old father\nmaybe, not overloaded with wit, but honest, and never turned back on\nfriend or foe.\"\n\nThe banquet proceeded in very hearty fashion, which atoned for its\nroughness. But there seldom sat at the thane's table any guest afflicted\nwith a squeamish appetite. So beef, venison, pork, and sundries, along\nwith wheaten cake and ale, disappeared at an alarming rate.\n\nWhilst the banquet was proceeding, one of the housecarles drew near and\nwhispered to the thane that Saxon runners had arrived with messages from\nthe king which permitted no delay.\n\n\"Have them ushered in. Kings will be obeyed,\" said the thane; \"and\ntruly, if they rule well, honest men will never be slack to obey.\"\n\nSo these messengers were ushered in, and the thane addressed them: \"What\nbe your message, gallant fellows, that will not tarry till we have fed,\nand ye yourselves have tasted our hospitality? Speak out, men! we have\nno secrets here!\"\n\n\"If it please you, worthy thane, the king hath sent round the war arrow,\nand summons all loyal gentlemen, together with their men-at-arms, to\nrepair to him at York instantly; for the Danes be landed in the Humber\nunder King Hardrada. Also, Count William, of Normandy, hath prepared him\na fleet of vessels, a thousand in number, and threatens an invasion of\nthe southern coasts.\"\n\n\"Ye bear a sorry message, my worthy fellows, truly, but ye have only\ndone your errand. But if two overladen mountain torrents join their\nforces in one pent-up little burn, there follows desolation in their\nwake. A sorry day for merry England, this, gentlemen--north and south\ntogether distraught.\"\n\nThen, addressing his guests and retainers, he said, \"My guests are their\nown masters in this matter. But the men of my household--my son, my\nretainers and vassals--most of us come of viking stock; and it may be\nsorry work to march against these Danes. But we live on the land, and we\nmust defend the land.\"\n\nImmediately a wild shout of approval greeted that saying.\n\n\"Further, these greedy plunderers will treat us as Saxons, nor spare\naught we have of goods or cattle; or even our lives. So in this quarrel\nwe are Saxons, and we will prove it at the sword's point.\"\n\nThis also was greeted with shouts of approval. So the feast came\nabruptly to an end. The guests withdrew, to meet again within a week to\ndo battle with the Danes at Stanford Bridge, since known as\nBattle-bridge, and from thence to Hastings' bloody field.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTRAITORS IN COUNCIL.\n\n    \"Treason doth never prosper. What's the reason?\n    Why, if it prosper, none dare call it treason.\"\n\n    _Epigram._\n\n\nWe pass over the details of the sturdy struggle and victory over the\nDanes at Battle-bridge, and the disastrous defeat of Hastings, except\njust to note that the young chieftain Oswald left his father dead on the\nbattle-field. The next three years were ones of immunity from the\nrapacity of the Normans, so far as we were concerned, for they never\nventured so far north. But in the year 1069, whilst William was absent\nin Normandy, there was a powerful conspiracy entered into for the\npurpose of wresting the kingdom from him. The Danes landed in the\nHumber. The Saxons rallied throughout the North. York was taken, and its\ngarrison of three thousand Normans put to the sword.\n\nImmediately after the wonderful successes which attended the\ninsurrectionary movement, the leaders of the rebellion hastily called\ntogether at York what was known as a \"Thing,\" or council. All the\nleaders of note were summoned. A somewhat motley company they were,\ntheir aims being far from identical, and the elements of disruption and\ndisunion were on the surface. All of them were excessively elated and\nflushed with the complete and wonderful victories achieved--I am sorry\nto say, also, very much demoralised by them. The Danish leaders in\nparticular were so, for they had taken much spoil, plundering friend or\nfoe pretty much as they listed--plunder being, in fact, their sole\nreason for taking part in the movement. Very conspicuous, both by their\ndress and demeanour, were these Danish leaders. They were deeply bronzed\nand hardy-looking, rough and fierce as warrior seamen who had been wont\nall their lives to do battle with foes on land, and often with the\nfiercer and still more deadly foe of old ocean. They carried daggers at\ntheir belts, and heavy swords dangled by their sides. The young\nchieftain Oswald, whom we have already introduced to the readers, was\nthere. The few years of stress and struggle since last we met him had\nhad a marked effect upon him. He had stood by Harold's side at Stanford\nBridge, and marched with him to Hastings, and stood in the forefront of\nthat historic \"wedge\" of sturdy Saxons, who defied the utmost efforts of\nWilliam's horse and foot to dislodge them. The playfulness of youth had\ngiven place to the stern thoughtfulness of manhood; whilst the tall\nfigure had broadened in sturdy proportions. He was of commanding\npresence, young, handsome, and daring, yet wise as any elder, known\nintimately by me, and a very great favourite with me also, and\ndestined to figure prominently in these records. By his side,\nas a near neighbour, as well as a compatriot, sat the young Thane\nBeowulf--aforementioned--of another lineage, but still identified with\nthe Saxon cause, being native born, though by his father's side a\ndescendant of the Danes who settled in the north of England three\ngenerations earlier. Other leaders also there were, of whom it is not\nnecessary to speak, as they occupy no further place in these pages.\n\nAt the appointed hour Waltheof, the leader of the Saxon forces, entered.\nHe was a man gifted by nature with the physical proportions which\nattract attention. But there was a hesitancy, irresolution, and lack of\nforce depicted in his countenance, and a wariness and suspicion about\nhis small, shrinking grey eyes, that were the reverse of reassuring.\nAccompanying Waltheof was a Norman knight at whose appearance many\nsprang to their feet in amazement. Seeing which, Waltheof introduced the\nNorman to the company.\n\n\"Worthy thanes and nobles,\" said he, \"this gallant Norman is Baron\nVigneau, one of William's bravest knights, who has been assigned some\nlands bordering on the Fen country, and had tacked on to the beggarly\ngift, the duty of defending that coast against our allies the Danes, as\nwell as to assist in keeping in check our brave countryman Hereward. A\nweighty charge, I warrant, for such a beggar's dole of barren acres.\nThis gallant knight comes as emissary of a still more famous Norman, the\nCount de Montfort, whose lance wrought such havoc in our ranks at\nHastings. Count de Montfort has good and weighty reasons against the\nking, or his councillors, for the base ingratitude with which his\nservices have been rewarded; and he offers to join hands with us, and\nwill lead into the field seventeen knights, fully equipped and\naccoutred, together with three hundred of foot; all of them men-at-arms,\ntrained and stout. This worthy knight, Baron Vigneau, of whose prowess\nalso I have ample proof, is bearer of letters--which I have carefully\nexamined--from the Count de Montfort, duly signed and sealed, and\nbearing ample evidence of good faith. Under the circumstances, I have\ntaken the liberty to introduce this worthy knight to our council.\"\n\nThis speech was received by many in blank astonishment, and there was\nloud and angry murmuring amongst the company, but no one seemed willing\nto voice the discontent. Oswald, however, sprang to his feet and said,\n\"Noble sir, no doubt the credentials presented by this Norman knight are\nsuch as meet with your approval, but I would respectfully urge that no\none should sit at our Council who has not attested his fidelity to our\ncause by services rendered in the field of battle; for when this is the\ncase we have pledges which cannot be shaken off at pleasure.\"\n\n\"A plague on your impudence, boy! You are too ready of the tongue! Let\nthe elders speak if they have any objections to make!--but I am not in\nthe habit of having my conduct called in question by a mere youth; and\nwhat is sufficient for me must be sufficient for such as you, and\nwithout cavil. What say our Danish allies? No objection, I see. Then let\nus proceed to business.\" So saying, he took his place at the head of the\nboard, and the bulky Norman slid into a back seat.\n\nThe question to deliberate upon was how to prosecute the war so\nauspiciously begun. The Council, however, proceeded to discuss the\nquestion in a very unpromising fashion, the discussion being\ncharacterised by a good deal of blatant braggadocio, and accompanied by\na very free use of the wine-cup.\n\nThe chief of the Danes reared aloft his stalwart form and said,--\n\n\"My lord, we Danes are wanting to know when we are to make a move south?\nWe have wasted four good days in drivel and talk, when we should have\nbeen making good our vantage. We might by this time have sacked\nShepfield, Leacaster, and Birmingam, where they tell me the\ngold-smiths', armourers', and weavers' crafts are flourishing, and\nwhere, to boot, the Normans have built themselves many pretty house\nplaces full of dainty stuff. All of which we might have pouched whilst\nthis dog's whelp is abroad!\"\n\n\"Worthy thane,\" replied Waltheof, \"we are waiting for Malcolm of\nScotland and the young Prince Atheling, for we expect the Saxons of the\nsouth will rally to the standard of the Prince. We also have to remember\nthat the Normans are more thickly posted farther south, and we must\ntherefore have all our forces up.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut! Cowardice is at the bottom of it all, as I thought. But what\ncare we for the Norman dogs? and what care we for a baby prince who\ncannot be brought to the fray? We want the spoils, and there is none to\nbe had cowering here like a fox in his hole. If we are not to move south\nat once, why then we take the tide the morn's even, and leave you to\nface the bear when he comes to his lair as best you can.\"\n\nAt this juncture the attention of every member of the council was\nsuddenly arrested by the advent of a messenger who suddenly burst into\nthe room, with the perspiration pouring off him by reason of the hot\nhaste with which he had ridden.\n\n\"How now, fellow! what news hast thou which calls for such haste?\" said\nWaltheof.\n\n\"My lords,\" exclaimed the messenger, \"I have ridden all speed to make\nknown unto you that the Norman is back again in England, and that he is\nrapidly marching northwards at the head of an army; he being not more\nthan two days' march to the south.\"\n\nIf a thunderbolt had dashed into the room instead of this messenger, the\neffect could not have been greater. Waltheof turned pale as death, and\npeered nervously about the room, as though he expected to be instantly\nconfronted by the dreaded presence of the king. Several also rose from\ntheir seats and promptly slid out of the room in dismay at the tidings.\nThe Danish rovers were not slow to note this arrant cowardice, and one\nof them immediately jumped to his feet in fierce exasperation at this\nconduct, and sneeringly shouted, \"Ha, ha! the Saxon caitiffs are\nslinking off at the mention of this dog of a Norman! Never mind, let the\ncowards go. I pledge me a health to the Danish warriors, who will dare\nto fight the cowardly Saxons' battle for them; but we'll see to't that\nthe Danish war-ships shall bear away the spoil,\" and as he spoke he\ngulped down a huge draught of wine.\n\n\"Excuse me, worthy thane,\" said Oswald, the young Saxon chieftain,\nstarting to his feet at these taunts; \"let me tell you the Saxons have\ntheir virtues, and valour too, not one whit behind that of your\ncountrymen.\"\n\n\"Whew! Virtues say you?\" bawled the quarrelsome and half-drunken Dane.\n\"Aye, marry! Saxons can preach you a homily with any shaveling priest in\nthe land, or simper as chastely as any wench. Virtues! Ha, ha! Ho, ho!\n_Maugre!_ Virtues by the bushel, I warrant you, sirs. Marry, anything,\nin fact, but fight. Ha, ha! Virtues! Thou hast well said it, and aptly\ntoo, young suckling! If I were a Saxon I'd don my mother's petticoats.\"\n\n\"Hear me, thane,\" retorted Oswald, repressing with great difficulty the\nrising choler. \"You are our ally, and that shall be some excuse for your\nunseemly mouthing; but hark you to this for a moment. Your memory does\nnot seem quite long enough to remember Battle-bridge and the precious\nfigure cut by your countrymen on that occasion against the Saxon; and\nyet it is not more than four years agone. Hark you to this also, friend;\nI warrant you will find, ere this war be done, that Saxons can fight as\nbravely as any Dane that ever wielded sword.\"\n\nBut the Dane persisted in his irritating and quarrelsome jesting.\n\"Saxons fight?\" he bawled, \"Why, come, that is a joke, anyhow! I say,\nyoung Milkfed, tell me, if you can, what of this? How comes it to pass\nthat either Norman or Dane, or even the tricky Scot, come when they list\nto crow on the Saxons' dunghill? How comes it also, my valiant Saxon\ncub, that you should ask us to come and help you fight this dog of a\nNorman? Read me that riddle, can you, boy? You besought us to come and\nhelp you, and here we are. I wish you joy of it. You'll be well rid when\nwe go; for if we get not Norman booty, I warrant we will have Saxon, if\nwe skin every Saxon churl in the island for it. What think you to that,\nyoung Sixfoot, eh?\"\n\nThe altercation seemed likely to develop into a serious quarrel, but at\nthis juncture a Danish messenger crept slily into the room, and, nudging\nhis leader's elbow, whispered something in his ear, at which he jumped\nto his feet and turned to his comrade, and between them a brief and\nexcited conversation was carried on in an undertone; the result being\nthat immediately the pair hurriedly withdrew from the room. Oswald, who\nhad been watching these Danes with a suspicious eye, immediately turned\nto the leader, Waltheof; but he beheld with astonishment that the\nleader's chair was empty; Waltheof, amid the clamour of voices, having\nnoiselessly slipped out of the room.\n\n\"Ah, ah! what now?\" he ejaculated, leaping to his feet and dragging his\ncomrade Beowulf to the door. \"There is something ominous in all this,\nBeowulf. It bodes no good to the Saxon cause, mark me.\"\n\n\"What is it, think you, Oswald, that breeds this fear and distrust in\nthe breasts of our leaders?\"\n\n\"I know not, Beowulf, but, by the rood! I cannot believe that the mere\nmention of the Norman's name breeds this cowardice and panic in the\nbreasts of our leaders. 'Tis not fear that has overtaken these Danes,\nmark me, but something more potent. They are at best but hirelings, and\nare as treacherous as the foul fiend. They will not scruple to betray us\nfor a paltry bribe if it be offered; and this Norman is astute enough to\nknow that they have their price.\"\n\n\"That is not the extent of the mischief, Oswald. I marked this Waltheof\nclosely, and I like not his looks at all. The coward's blood forsook his\ncheek instantly at the mention of the Norman's name. I warrant him a\ncoward and traitor at heart, or I know not a coward when I see him.\"\n\n\"What is to be done, Beowulf!\"\n\n\"We must stand to it like men. We know our duty, and to turn tail like a\nwhipped hound ere we have seen this Norman's face would be worse than\ncowardice.\"\n\n\"Then we must place ourselves at the head of our men forthwith; for if\nany idle rumours reach their ears, I would not answer for it. Indeed, if\nWilliam be within striking distance we must bestir ourselves, for if he\nfind us unprepared, he knows well how to push his vantage against an\nunready foe.\"\n\nThus this ill-starred Council came to an end, and it left the Saxons as\na rope of sand, without cohesion, without any definite plan of attack or\nof defence--a ready prey for a wily and daring commander. In bitter\ndejection, and with forebodings of impending disaster, one by one the\nmembers passed out, each one to pursue his own course.\n\nWhen the Saxon members of the Council had one and all left the room,\nthen uprose the bulky and sinister-looking figure of the Norman\nemissary, from a seat in a shaded corner, where, unobserved, he had been\nquietly taking note of the wretched divisions of the Saxon Council. As\nhe came forward he burst into a hoarse and derisive laugh, and\nexclaimed, \"Here's a go anyhow--ha, ha! A precious revolt it is! A man\nwould be an ass to pin his fortunes to a quarrelsome rabble like this.\nWhy, I warrant me they would cut one another's throats at a word! And\nthen how the bubble burst up at the mere mention of the Conqueror's\nname! But where are my precious letters?\" said he, fumbling in his\ndoublet for something, and eventually pulling out a packet carefully\nfolded with a silken band, and sealed in several places by a huge seal\nwith the crest and quarterings of the famous Count De Montfort. \"Ha, ha,\nmy precious!\" said he, turning the missive over and eyeing it with\nsavage delight. \"I'm glad I kept possession of you. You are a treasure!\nI'll not part with you yet awhile,\" and he carefully thrust the letter\nback again within his doublet. \"Ha, ha!\" said he, scowling demoniacally,\n\"De Montfort will finger that missive no more until he makes good his\nbargain with me. I'll have his proud daughter as the price of this, or\nwe'll see what will come to pass. I have my own belt to buckle as well\nas De Montfort; and I'll do it now after my own humour. I'll no longer\ndangle like a moonstruck suitor at my lady's skirts, and wag my tail\nlike any spaniel if I should chance to get a word or a smile. I have\nbeen meek and humble long enough; but now Vigneau shall be first, for I\nhave got him! Trapped, by ----! He thought he would play the traitor,\ndid he? fool and dolt that he is! One would have thought him wiser than\nto do his treason second-hand. He makes pretence of wisdom, but he acts\nthe fool at times as roundly as any clown. But I'll no more of this\nanyhow. I do believe the Saxon clowns have scurried off to their holes\nlike a parcel of rats already. I must be off too, for if the _tanner's_\nson should catch me at my present business, it will go bad with my hide\nI'm feared; and I should like to keep my skin whole a little longer,\ncome what may. Ho, ho!\" said he, bursting again into hoarse laughter. \"I\nwonder what Odo or Fitz-Osborne would give to know of this little freak\nof De Montfort's! The wily Odo has ousted him from William's councils\nalready, and if he had possession of this\"--thumping his chest where the\nmissive lay--\"he'd have De Montfort's head in a trice. Enough! that will\ndo for me.\" So saying, he vanished from the hall.\n\nMeanwhile, the second messenger, at whose communication the Danish\nsea-rovers had vanished from the Council, proved to be an emissary of\nthe wily Conqueror--his purpose being to negotiate with the Danes, and\nwith Waltheof, conditions on which they would retire from the fray.\nScarcely were they outside than he said to these Danes,--\n\n\"My master offers to you five hundred ounces of beaten gold, and a free\npassage for your vessels, together with such plunder as you can wrest\nfrom the Saxons.\"\n\n\"Five hundred ounces of gold is a sorry price for a wealthy king like\nyour master to offer for such a service,\" said one of the Danes. \"But\ncome now, if your master will make it one thousand ounces, to be\ndelivered over by sunset to-morrow; together with our plunder, and such\nas we can further gather; why then, within twenty-four hours our vessels\nshall be ploughing the northern seas for home.\"\n\n\"Done!\" said the messenger. \"My hand on it. The gold shall be delivered\nover to you by sunset to-morrow, as you say.\"\n\nNo sooner was this bargain made than the spy turned his attention to\nWaltheof, a man treacherous by instinct, and cowardly by nature. It is\nscarcely necessary to say, he grasped only too eagerly at the promised\nfree pardon, coupled as it was with large grants of land and estates.\nWith the Saxon forces thus weakened and demoralised, William knew the\nremnant of this powerful conspiracy would be crushed with the utmost\nease by him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nDEFEAT.\n\n      \"What though the field be lost?\n    All is not lost.\"\n\n    _Paradise Lost._\n\n\nOswald the Saxon, and Beowulf the Saxon Dane, passed out into the night,\nand continued their course beyond the gates of the city, which were so\nbroken down that they served no longer the purpose for which they were\nerected. The walls also for considerable distances were thrown down, and\nin a state of disrepair. The insurrectionary forces had determined to\npush forward in the king's absence, but in the meantime they were\nhalting, waiting for Malcolm of Scotland, and for further counsel. They\nwere encamped some miles away on the banks of the river running between\nYork and the head of the estuary of the Humber, where the Danish\nwar-vessels were anchored. The Danes held the head of the estuary,\nthrowing out their forces Yorkward, but encamped sufficiently near to\ncover their vessels, in the event of an attack upon them. Waltheof, the\nleader and commander-in-chief of the Saxon forces, occupied a central\nposition, having under his command the bulk of the rebels; whilst\nOswald, Beowulf, and others, occupied the right wing, which to a certain\nextent covered the city. On the news of William's landing, the bridges\nwere thrown down, but in many places the river was fordable, during dry\nweather, both for man and horse. But to effect this in the face of\nsturdy enemies was a most formidable task, and the Saxons were\nsufficiently numerous to guard the river effectually wherever it was\nfordable.\n\nEarly in the morning, after the breaking up of the council of war, the\nscouts brought in the intelligence that William had arrived within six\nmiles, and ere nightfall the pennants of the Normans were flying within\nsight of the Saxon forces.\n\nVery little of that night was spent by Oswald in rest. Twice he\npatrolled the whole length of the river under his command, visiting and\ncheering every outpost. But judge how great was his consternation, and\nthat of his forces also, when, with the dawning of the morning, the\nfraction of the Saxons commanded by him were made painfully aware of the\nfact that the Normans had passed the river, unopposed, in the night; and\nworse than that, there began to be ominous rumours that this had arisen\nthrough the treachery of Waltheof--that he, having been bribed by the\nConqueror, had left the remnant to their fate. In these straits time was\nprecious, for the Normans were advancing up the river, doubling up the\nSaxon outposts, and throwing them back on the main body. Hastily a\ncouncil of war was called, and not a few, in face of the danger and the\nhopelessness of their cause in the midst of such treachery, were for\ndispersing without a blow; but Oswald, addressing them, said,--\n\n\"I fear it is too true that there is treachery in our ranks; but as yet\nwe know not its extent. If Waltheof has succumbed to William's bribes,\nthere are still the Danes, who will be able to harass the rear of our\nenemy. Hourly, also, we are expecting Malcolm of Scotland and the\nAtheling, so that we need not despair. Let us make a bold stand; the\nbattle is by no means lost if the Danes stand firm. Now, with our\nhandful of men it is utterly impossible to meet the Normans in the open\ncountry; for they will double our left flank easily and surround us. But\non the fringe of yonder dense wood, with our line extended under cover\nof the thicket, and where the enemy's horse will be absolutely\nuseless--where also our men will be quite in their element and be able\nto ply their long bows with deadly effect, and their spears or swords at\nclose quarters--we shall surely avoid, in any case, the wholesale\nslaughter of our men; and we shall administer a severe check to\nWilliam's march.\"\n\nThe force of this sage advice was seen at once by the leaders, and the\nforces accordingly retired to the wood in their rear, and took up their\nfighting attitude just within its shelter. The Saxons, who were brave\nindividually, were still undisciplined and incapable of acting together\nwith precision in the open; but they were wonderfully heartened by this\nmovement, which gave them shelter from the onslaughts of the enemy's\nhorse--a mode of warfare which has at all times had a demoralising\neffect upon untrained soldiers. So, having their right flank resting on\nthe river, and in consequence shielded from any flank movement there,\nthey threw out their left considerably, so as to prevent, if possible,\nany over-lapping by the Normans. They were the better able to do this,\nseeing that the enemy's horse were totally unable to charge through\ntheir attenuated lines; the jungle being an effectual barrier to this.\nOswald arranged his men in two fighting lines. The foremost ranks, with\nspear and sword, were to resist the advance of the Normans. The second\nwere bowmen, who were to cover the front ranks by letting fly their\narrows in the faces of the foe; a most ingenious and effective\nexpedient. To Beowulf he entrusted the command of the left wing, with\ninstructions to in no case permit the Normans to outflank them, but, if\nnecessary, to double in the left flank also, until it rested on the\nriver.\n\nScarcely had Oswald time to make this careful disposition of his men ere\nthe vanguard of the Normans were upon them. But a shower of arrows from\nthe Saxons at close quarters thoroughly disconcerted them. So fiercely\nwere they met, and by a force whose numbers they had no means of\ngauging, that they deemed it prudent to retire beyond bowshot until the\nremainder of the forces advanced to their support. Then came a more\ndetermined assault on the Saxons' position. But, from behind trees and\nshrubs, the concealed defenders drave their short spears through each\nassailant, or clave them with their short Saxon swords or battle-axes.\nOswald and others, who were clad in armour, boldly fronted them in every\ngap, making great havoc in the ranks of the men-at-arms, or singling out\nthe Norman leaders and engaging them.\n\nIn the midst of the fray, one noteworthy incident occurred. Oswald, to\nhis amazement, saw the burly Norman, Vigneau, who had come with\nprofessions of help, now fighting fiercely against them. Immediately his\nblood was fired, and pressing steadily towards him, eventually they met\nface to face.\n\n\"Ah, treacherous villain!\" said Oswald. \"This is your friendship for our\ncause, is it? I have a particular message for tricksters and sneaking\ntraitors like you.\"\n\n\"Come on, varlet of a Saxon, and don't stand prating like some gowky\nwench, and I'll quickly give thee thy quietus,\" said Vigneau savagely.\n\nInstantly there ensued a most desperate encounter between these two\npowerful combatants. Each of them, however, wore a suit of armour, and\ncarried a shield, and each one was most skilful in the use of his\nweapons, so that, desperate and determined as they both were, no\nconclusive blow resulted. But whilst the duel progressed, the general\nbody of the Normans made steady progress, in spite of the valour of the\nSaxons, and speedily Oswald was quite surrounded, though totally\noblivious of the fact. One stalwart Saxon, however, who had fought by\nOswald's side--by name Wulfhere--saw the imminent danger in which his\nleader was placed, and he rushed to his rescue, quickly cleaving his way\nthrough; and seizing Oswald, he exclaimed,--\n\n\"Master, you will be cut off if you don't keep in fighting line with\nus!\"\n\nThis fierce reminder awoke Oswald to the peril of his position, and he\nsaid to his antagonist, \"Another time, villain, will come, when I hope\nwe may effectually finish this quarrel.\"\n\n\"Sooner and better, churl; but for the present your better plan is to\nrun away,\" retorted Vigneau.\n\nIn the meantime, although the Saxons had extended their lines to the\nutmost limits which the sparsity of their men would permit, the Normans\nsurged round and completely overlapped them. So Beowulf was compelled to\ninitiate the movement ordered by Oswald, and the left wing was gradually\ndoubled back until it also converged on the river; and thus the line of\nbattle was in the form of a semicircle. The Saxons fought with\ndesperation, disputing every inch of the ground, and strewing the\nground, yard by yard, with the Norman slain. The masterly skill with\nwhich their ground had been chosen and their defence planned, gave them\ngreat advantage, and enabled them to maintain the unequal contest for\nnearly an hour. But ultimately the quivers of the archers were emptied\nof every shaft, and the battle could no longer be maintained with\nadvantage, but would probably end in complete massacre. So Oswald\nselected a spot where the river was fordable; then, he and a hundred\nstalwart Saxons stood shoulder to shoulder, keeping the enemy at bay\nwhilst the rank and file crossed the stream. Then, gradually narrowing\ntheir own circle until every one had taken the river, the last\nhalf-dozen, with their faces to the foe, fought their way across.\n\nWhen they had reached the opposite side, the order was given for\ndispersal, and the gallant band melted away, and severally, or in bands,\nsought their distant homes. Thus ended in total failure, through\ncowardice and treachery, what at one time seemed, in its very marked\nsuccess, a conspiracy that would ultimately wrest the kingdom from the\nusurper.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nDESPERATE RESOLVES.\n\n    \"Cowards die many times before their death\n    The valiant never taste of death but once.\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\n\"The Saxon cause is lost, Wulfhere, by base-hearted cowardice and\ntreachery,\" said Oswald, turning to the stalwart \"freeman\" already\nintroduced to the reader. \"Look to the rear, though I think the Normans\nhave had such a taste of our quality that there will be no pursuit for\nthe present; but henceforth we may look to it, for there will be--unless\nI greatly misjudge the Norman king--a bitter revenge exacted from us,\nand untempered in the least degree by mercy. We have our broadswords\nleft to us, and we have proved this day that they have a keen edge and\nbite as sharp as ever. We have a few bowmen, also, who can shoot\nstraight; but for our shelter I fear me we shall have but the dense\nforest, and the rugged hills of our native Craven for our defence. But\nthey are a defence familiar to us, and no battering-ram or assault of\nbesiegers will avail our foe. Let them drive the wolf to bay if they\ndare, and they shall find he has sharp teeth. Well, to me, Wulfhere, a\nlife of valorous freedom is better than servile slavery and degraded\nserfdom.\"\n\n\"I join you there, my lord. A ceorl born, a ceorl for ever. That is my\ncharter. I will maintain it to the death,\" said Wulfhere.\n\nThe conclusions of Oswald, with regard to the revenge which the Normans\nwould exact, proved only too true. Like a conflagration, the sanguinary,\nmercenary host spread themselves over the northern part of the kingdom,\nand desolation and death spread their ghastly wings over the land.\nWilliam's aim evidently was to decimate the population, and thus make\nany further revolt utterly impossible.\n\nI forbear, however, to enter into the details of the wholesale slaughter\nwhich followed after the Saxons were put to the rout at York, in mercy\nto the reader.\n\nSo, at the word of command, the followers of Oswald moved away from the\nfatal field, with celerity, but in perfect order. The close of the\nsecond day brought them home again. Bitterly sad our hearts were at the\ntidings they brought us, and at sight of the thinned ranks of stout and\nhardy yeomen who went out from us on this last desperate venture. The\nEarl addressed the following words to them, as we stood together in the\nmonastery grounds: \"My trusty followers, my faithful friends,--We have\nprobably not more than forty-eight hours before we shall be face to face\nagain with the hated Norman foe--on our own lands, and at the thresholds\nof our own homes. Do not let us, because of this short respite, close\nour eyes to what will inevitably follow. Neither age nor sex will be\nspared, though we should crawl at their feet, and grovel in the dust.\nThe only thing these Normans will respect is the broadsword, as it\nflashes at their breast, or the arrow, glancing unerringly through the\nbranches of the trees in the forest fastnesses. I advise you to take to\nthe hills; the caves will form in some respects a shelter for your wives\nand little ones. Carry your cattle along with you to the hills and\nmountain gorges. Your corn, your cooking utensils--in short, everything\nof value and of service--take along with you. There are men here from\nevery corner of our domain. Tell your neighbours, and make haste; even\nthe minutes are precious. I shall contrive, if I live, to protect you\nfor the present, and until my castle is taken you will be absolutely\nsafe.\"\n\nAs the men moved slowly away to their homes in the distant hamlets,\nbearers of the sorrowful news, the Earl turned to Wulfhere.\n\n\"Well, Wulfhere, my resolve is taken. I shall not cower before, or\nservilely beg for freedom at the hands of the proudest Norman of them\nall. Further, I shall not fly over sea, and sell my sword to a foreign\npotentate. Yonder, in the distance, I can descry the turrets of my\ncastle. I was born there, and I shall defend it to the last; and when\ndriven from it, it will still be a joy to sit on the hillsides and gaze\nupon the old home. There are likewise these followers of mine, who have\nfollowed me everywhere and blindly done my bidding. It were dastardly\nconduct to give them over now to sanguinary massacre. When, as a boy,\nwith falcon on my arm and hound at my heel, I hied me o'er these lands,\nmy faithful yeomen welcomed me everywhere, and their good wives brought\nout their daintiest morsel and their sweetest mead. We shall stand or\nfall together. Who knows? The Saxon star may some day be in the\nascendant again, and we may push the Normans from our shores. What\nsayest thou, Wulfhere?\"\n\n\"Your purpose, my lord, if I understand you aright, is to defend the\ncastle so long as you can, and then try to hold the Normans at bay by\nmeans of the shelter which the woods and the hills afford.\"\n\n\"That is my present purpose. I can scarcely hope to hold the castle,\nexcept for a little while, but I may thus materially check the\ndesolating march of the Normans. But ultimately I look to the woods and\nthe hills for permanent safety. We are more fortunate than our\ncountrymen in other parts of the kingdom. If we look to the north we see\nthe stately Hanging-brow mountain, lifting itself to the sky and girdled\nwith the clouds, and those dense woods, which, like a vast army\nclambering up its sides, will fight for us in our onslaught, and shield\nus in our flight. The waters also shed on its brow by the clouds which\nnestle well-nigh perpetually on its shoulders, and go leaping down its\nsides with the fierceness of a cataract, have ploughed into the\nmountain's seamy sides gorges impassable to untrained feet. Look, to the\neast a few miles we have the scarcely less remarkable Weirdburn hills.\nTo the south, Baldby heights. Think also of the dense woods which\neverywhere abound in this Craven of ours. Then, like myself, you will\nsee that in no other part of the land has Nature so combined to shelter\nthe friendless and protect the oppressed. Further, we are quite two\nhundred and fifty miles from London. Though the Normans will come very\nsurely to despoil the land, William will speedily draw off his forces,\nand we shall have but to cope with the Norman who usurps my lands and\ncastle, holding it probably with a slender garrison. For the present we\nare unequal to the task of contending in open warfare with our foe. We\nwill contend with him with the most effective weapons we possess; and\nthese are cunning and evasion. There shall be no solid front presented\nto him at which he can aim an effective blow. But when the Normans have\noverrun the land, and the bulk of them gone hence, then we will present\na bolder front, and assert our right to share the land, and cultivate\nthe soil.\"\n\n\"What do you purpose in this dire emergency, reverend Father?\" said he,\nturning to me. \"Have you any purpose of defending the Abbey?\"\n\n\"No, my lord,\" said I; \"we are the disciples of the Prince of Peace, and\nwe must follow His example. And indeed, carnal weapons would not protect\nus if we were minded to use them, and this sacred edifice would suffer\nirreparably by our resistance. Perhaps these untamed and bloody men may\nhave some regard for the sanctity of these walls. We will throw open our\ngates to receive them. Those of our servants and followers who prefer to\ntrust to the woods and the hills, as you advise, are free to do so.\nThose who prefer to stay--together with any unhappy fugitives who have\nfled hither for shelter--will join the monks in prayers and\nsupplications, in the sanctuary. Perhaps God will give us favour in the\neyes of our enemies.\"\n\n\"Give us your blessing, Father,\" said Oswald, falling on his knees and\nmeekly uncovering his head, all his followers humbly following his\nexample.\n\n\"Adieu, my son,\" said I, laying my hand upon his head. \"May the God of\nour fathers nerve thy arm for the protection of thy humbler fellows, and\ngive thee wisdom and discretion in this terrible day of thy country's\nvisitation!\"\n\nWith tearful eyes I watched the receding form of this noble Saxon. No\ncarnal offspring could be dearer to an earthly parent than he to me. I\nhad watched over him from infancy, educated him, travelled with him in\nmany foreign lands; and I hoped he would be a great leader in\nstatesmanship, in learning, and in all the arts of peace. Now, alas! I\nfear circumstance will make him a man of war, and a stern leader of\nbloody and desperate men.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nBARON VIGNEAU.\n\n    \"All is lost save honour.\"\n\n\nEarly on the morrow, strange rumours and stories, which made the blood\ncurdle, were brought to the monastery by refugees from far and near.\nBoth gentle and simple fled hither, being buoyed up by the widespread,\nbut in this case delusive notion, that sanctuary walls would be sacredly\nrespected. Amongst the number was the lovely daughter of the worthy\nThane Beowulf, who, along with his son, had been slain in resisting the\nadvance of the Normans. My heart sank within me as I looked upon her\ngreat beauty, realising with painful vividness how helpless and impotent\nI was to protect her--well knowing that lust and rapine, let loose,\nwould not be awed or restrained even by the sanctity of the Church.\n\nI had commanded the monks, with all refugees, to repair to the chapel\nfor prayer, whilst I at the first summons repaired to the gate with some\nof the housecarles and lay brothers, and commanded the gates to be\nthrown open, when in poured a motley crowd of soldiers and men-at-arms,\nevidently bent on plunder, and totally uncontrolled by any sort of\ndiscipline. The crowd surged by me and carried me along, deriding my\nentreaties to be heard. One leader, in complete armour, and whom I\nafterwards ascertained to be Baron Vigneau, I appealed to in vain. He\nrudely pushed me aside with an oath, bidding me say my prayers to the\ndevil, for he would soon have me and my monkish crew.\n\nOne party made a dash for the northern extremity of the enclosure, where\nwere the outbuildings, in which our cattle, sheep and goats, and\nnumerous attendants were housed. These servants, however, made their\nexit, with all speed, from the northern gate, as they saw the Normans\nenter at the south. One, Badger as he was called by his companions, who\nwas keeper of the hounds and hawks--a mighty hunter, who kept our larder\nwell stocked with venison, and fish, and game of every kind--held his\nground. A sly rogue was Badger--so called from his propensity for\nhunting these animals and clothing himself in their skins. For hunting,\nhawking, and fishing, he was a prodigy. He was well-nigh fleet as a\nhare, and could swim like an otter; and had wherewithal so sly a humour,\nand such shrewdness, that he was a great favourite with me, and I had\ntaken pains to add such instruction as I thought would be serviceable to\nhim. The reader will pardon me this digression. But this Badger was such\nan active agent in the subsequent troublous times, and served the Saxon\ncause so well, both by his matchless cunning and his rare valour, that I\nhave taken the trouble to introduce the reader to him at such great\nlength. A most grotesque figure he presented on this fateful morning,\nclothed as he was from head to foot in skins.\n\n\"Hilloa!\" roared one trooper to another, as they set eyes upon him.\n\"What the deuce kind of an animal is this?\"\n\n\"The foul fiend, or one of his imps, by Moses!\" rejoined the other.\n\n\"Who are you, Satan?\" said the first one, riding up to him and giving\nhim a hearty thwack across the shoulders with the flat of his sword; at\nwhich Badger set up a most hypocritical howl. \"Stash that, will you, you\nlump of hog's-flesh, or I'll make pork of you in a twinkling! Where are\nyour cronies? Have you buried them, you old grave-digger?\"\n\n\"Oh, hang him, Jaques!\" chimed in the other impatiently. \"Don't bother\nwith the slobbering clown! But I've a notion it is a dry shop in this\nquarter; you had better get back again to the jolly friars, if you would\nhave venison pasties and old ale. But I'm going to have a look round,\nand see if they have left a hack or two better than mine. They haven't\nleft a worse, I'm blowed! I don't believe he is a horse. He's only a\nshadow and a half; the wind was just going to carry him off when I took\nhim: so I committed no robbery when I stole him. I vow it's only my\nweight which keeps him in this world at all. Gee up, old marrow-bones!\nYour old backbone will do to shave the monks with. I wonder I'm not\nsplit up the middle by this. I verily believe my trunk is shorter by a\ngood six inches than my legs, and I've only been perched on your old\nrazor-rig these three days. Heigh-up! Jaques,\" continued he, suddenly\nwheeling round, \"if you find a tap of good old ale before I get back,\nhold on to it till I come! I'm as thirsty as a sponge that hasn't had a\nsoaking for twenty years. I could suck up half a hogshead easily. My\nsoul is oozing away through the pores in my body, and all for lack of\nmoisture.\"\n\nMeanwhile, the monks, together with numerous refugees, chiefly women,\nwere gathered in the church, vainly trusting to the sanctity of the\nplace for protection. I had no faith in this, however, and had taken the\nprecaution to have our most valuable and costly treasures of silver and\ngold and books conveyed to the sacristy, a barrel-vaulted apartment near\nthe south transept, led down to by a flight of stone steps, which were\ncunningly covered over by the flagging of the floor. This had been\ndesigned expressly for the hiding of our valuables when a raid was\nanticipated by the Scots or Danes.\n\nMany of the Normans, I noticed, made at once for the church. No doubt\nthey fancied the richest booty would there be found. They rudely burst\nopen the doors, and I pressed in with them. At once the fierce and\nundisciplined soldiery commenced to break and plunder everything. I\nadvanced towards the leader, Vigneau, and prostrated myself before him\nto beg for mercy for the refugees. Alas! He furiously spurned me with\nhis heavy boot, and cried to his men, \"Ho, men! here are a lot of scurvy\nmonks! Kill the rats in their hole!\" Prompt to obey, the soldiers let\nfly a volley of arrows amongst the helpless throng huddled about the\naltar steps, and wounded many of them. Unhappily, Vigneau at that moment\nespied the lovely Ethel crouching amongst them. \"Stay, men!\" he shouted.\n\"By Jupiter, here's the loveliest Saxon wench my eyes have seen. You may\ntake the gold and silver baubles and melt them into zechins. Here's my\nshare of the plunder!\" Immediately he seized Ethel and dragged her from\nthe steps of the high altar. \"Nay, nay, wench,\" said he, \"never be so\nshy! Thou wert intended for better company than simpering monks and\nfriars. Damnation!\" he roared, suddenly releasing her, staggering back a\npace or two and staring aghast at her; for she had sprung at him and\ndriven with all her force at his chest a small dagger she held in her\nhand. The dagger rattled upon his mailed chest, but left him scathless.\nStill she stood confronting him, like a panther at bay.\n\n\"By Jove!\" he roared, as soon as he had recovered from his astonishment.\n\"Here's mettle anyhow! I little thought there was so much spirit behind\nthat pretty face. All the better however, for milk and water is no good\neven in a wench. Here goes for another embrace, my bantam!\" So saying,\nhe seized her with his mailed hands, and wrested the dagger from her,\npitching it across the church. Then he literally tucked her under his\narm, all the while roaring with laughter at her frantic but ineffectual\nefforts to release herself, and away he marched down the aisle of the\nchurch. I seized his arm, and was imploring him to have pity, when he\ncalled to a rough-looking soldier. \"Here, fellow, run this shaveling\npriest through with thy sword, quick!\" I gave myself up for a dead man,\nfor I felt that I could not let him carry off Ethel, when suddenly there\nwas a hush of voices, and looking round I beheld a Norman lady, of\nmajestic port and bearing, pressing forward towards us, whilst close\nbehind her there followed a score of armed men. I perceived at once that\nshe was a lady of rank by her rich apparel and jewelled head-dress. She\nwas also of surpassing loveliness and commanding figure. As she beheld\nthe brutal Norman, I saw the fire flash in her rich dark eyes, as with\nquick step she marched boldly up to him and accosted him in words almost\nof fire. \"I think this is another evidence, Baron, of your base and\nunchivalrous regard for the distressed of my sex, by the brutal way in\nwhich you are treating this helpless Saxon lady! You afford me ample\nopportunities of testing your gallantry, and better opportunities, too,\nthan listening to your false and honeyed words, which you are pleased to\npour into my ears.\"\n\n\"These are but Saxon varlets, Alice; and Saxon varlets, whether male or\nfemale, are not fitting objects of chivalry to a Norman knight.\"\n\n\"Chivalry is for the oppressed and weak of any nation. So be pleased to\nrelease this lady, and cease harrying these holy and unresisting men.\"\n\n\"Take care what you are at, madame!\" savagely hissed the Baron, between\nhis teeth, \"or your meddlesome interference with business which does not\nconcern you will be at your peril. Mark that, _ma grande dame_!\"\n\n\"Let go the arm of this lady, I say, and leave this sanctuary at once,\nor I shall report your conduct to the Count forthwith.\"\n\n\"Tell the Count, madame, if he dare, to look in the wolf's mouth and\ncount his teeth, and he'll not do it twice, you may mark that!\"\n\nHe let go of Ethel, however, and, muttering savagely many fierce oaths,\nhe strode out of the church, followed very reluctantly by his men.\n\n\"Jules Reynard,\" said the lady, addressing the leader of her men, \"do\nyour best to protect this holy place, and the lives of these monks.\"\nJules Reynard acquiesced by a low obeisance. \"Lady,\" she said,\naddressing Ethel, \"I grieve very much at the rude treatment and\nmishandling you have been subjected to at the hands of these savage men.\nIf you like to accept my protection, I think I can protect you from\nfurther annoyance and insult.\"\n\n\"I thank you, madame,\" said Ethel, \"but this cannot be. Your people have\nburnt my home, basely slaughtered my father and my brother, and I\nprefer, whether living or dying, to company with my own people.\"\n\nThe Norman lady heaved a deep sigh. \"Alas! I daresay it is but too true,\nand I can well understand your feelings; but I will strive to be a\nsister to you, if you will come with me.\"\n\n\"Say no more, lady; this cannot be.\"\n\n\"Well, then, we must part. But, mark me--though it is hard to say it of\none's people--look for no compassion at the hands of my people, and\nbeware especially of him from whom you have just escaped, for 'his\ntender mercies are cruel.'\"\n\n\"I look for no compassion at the hands of the Normans, nor will I seek\nit or suffer it. The hands that are red with my kinsmen's blood, cannot\nbe grasped in amity by me. There is a deep and bloody barrier betwixt me\nand thee, which a lifetime cannot erase,\" said Ethel bitterly.\n\n\"Alas! alas! Nevertheless, adieu, lady; we may meet again. If I can\nbefriend you in any way, how gladly will I do it, to the very utmost of\nmy power!\" With that she hastily left the chapel--as I learnt\nafterwards, to try and stay as much as possible the fierce bloodshed and\nrapine of the soldiery. But it is needless to say her efforts were to\nlittle purpose, for though she managed to have them cleared out of the\nsanctuary, ere long they were back again, and, like greedy hawks, they\npounced upon everything, no matter how sacred the purpose to which\narticles of value were devoted. They carried off the silver table of the\nhigh altar, the silver cups, dalmatics, censers of silver; in fact,\neverything ornamented with silver or gold. Speedily the whole of our\npossessions were at their mercy, excepting the things I had secreted as\naforesaid. To complete this sad day's work, when nothing more of value\ncould be had, they turned their attention to our cellarer's store of\nwines and ale, and the rest of the day, and the night also, was spent in\ndrunkenness and carousing. The whole of the night was spent by the monks\nin prayer and fasting, whilst for the most part our refugees were glad\nto escape to the woods, being thankful if only they could do so with\ntheir lives. A sad day's work this for the sanctuary which had taken\ngenerations to bring it to its high state of usefulness and piety!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nALICE DE MONTFORT.\n\n    \"And thus I clothe my naked villainy\n    With old odd ends, stol'n out of holy writ,\n    And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\nMy readers, I am sure, will pardon me for passing over the bitter\nsufferings and humiliation I and the members of our Order had to endure,\nand the still more harrowing cruelties and bloodshed heaped upon the\ncommon people, who, despite the Earl's advice, still clung to their\nhomes and their patches of land.\n\nWe therefore proceed to follow the fortunes of certain characters who\nare the central figures in our history. In reality the history of our\ntime was made by the important actors, the common people playing a very\nignoble part, and being little better than chattels and instruments of\nthe leaders' wills.\n\nThe Normans overran the adjacent country like a flood let loose, leaving\ndesolation behind them. Indeed, if the Saxons had not fled before, and\nsecreted themselves, their wives, their children, and their cattle,\nthere would have been nothing but annihilation and utter extermination.\nThe main body of the Normans swarmed forwards like locusts as soon as\nthey had devastated one part. But the castle of the youthful Ealdorman\nOswald could not be taken without siege operations. Its splendid\nsituation and rich lands attracted the cupidity of the De Montfort\nalready mentioned, and he sat down before it with the determination to\ntake possession of it and the splendid domain belonging thereto.\n\nCarefully De Montfort reconnoitred the castle from all points, and\nthough it had no pretension to invulnerability, yet it was plain to him\nthat some days must elapse before he would be sufficiently prepared to\nventure an assault upon it.\n\nIn the meantime, however, he despatched heralds to summon Oswald to\nsurrender. The Saxon paced the walls, clad in complete armour, and in\nperson directed the labours of the housecarles who laboured at\nstrengthening and repairing the fortifications; whilst a score or so of\nhis choicest bowmen, with well-stocked quivers, were set apart for the\ndefence of those who toiled.\n\nThe heralds, three in number, rode up to the walls, and, after blowing a\nblast from their bugles, they accosted Oswald thus:--\n\n\"What ho, there, Saxon!\"\n\nTo which Oswald responded,--\n\n\"What ho, there! What message have ye from your master?--I perceive ye\nare messengers.\"\n\n\"Our master, the valiant Count de Montfort, of great renown and valour,\ngiveth thee summons to deliver up to him, within the space of\ntwenty-four hours, without let or hindrance, this castle, with the\nappurtenances thereof.\"\n\n\"What conditions doth your master tender if we yield to his wishes, and\nwithout resistance obey his summons?\"\n\n\"De Montfort hath given us this message: 'Yield thee forthwith without\nconditions, and trust to our clemency.' Defiance of our summons is\ntorture and death.\"\n\n\"Tell your master that we have too many illustrations of his clemency,\nand that of Norman tyrants generally, to put any trust or reliance in\nhis word. If he would fain have possession of this castle, tell him he\nmust first take it, for we put no faith in his professions of clemency;\nand that we defy him and his myrmidons to wrest this castle from us.\"\n\nThese were brave words, and intended to inspire his own followers; but\nno one knew better than he where victory must inevitably rest. Many\ntimes had he told over the number of the Norman tents pitched little\nmore than a bowshot away. With sinking heart he had noted the masses of\narchers and men-at-arms who swarmed around the camp by day. In the\nstillness of night he had crept within earshot of wary sentinels in\ncompany of Wulfhere the freeman, in the hope that some chance, or some\noverweening confidence on the part of the enemy, might afford the\nopportunity for some desperate deed of valour. But de Montfort was far\ntoo wise and experienced a soldier to permit negligence or\nover-confidence to prevail. The pickets at all points were thickly\nposted and kept on the alert by patrols.\n\nThe tents of the Count de Montfort and his daughter, Lady Alice de\nMontfort, were pitched on a knoll in the centre of the encampment, which\nwas sufficiently elevated to overlook every other tent and beyond them\non every side. The tents of the maids and personal attendants were\nsituated to the rear, and were intercommunicable by a covered way. The\nentrance to Lady Alice's tent was hung with richly embroidered curtains,\nwhilst costly figured velvet carpets from the looms of Rouen were spread\nover the soft carpet of nature. As already stated, Lady Alice had been\naffianced to Baron Vigneau by her father, for the most ignoble reason of\npolicy and personal ambition, Alice's wishes or preferences not being\nconsulted in the least. But a union more abhorrent to her feelings could\nnot possibly be imagined.\n\nIndeed, to one much less refined and gentle than Alice, this union would\nhave been most distasteful. Vigneau was at once drunken, licentious, and\nboorish, his habits being such as befitted the company of the besotted\nand brutal troopers whom he led, rather than that of one of the gentlest\nladies of Normandy. True, he had won for himself a large measure of fame\non the battle-field, and in the lists at tournaments. He had undoubtedly\na large measure of reckless valour, and enormous physical strength; but\nhe was utterly destitute of that chivalry and knightly courtesy which\nwas reckoned only second to personal prowess. His chief recommendation\nin De Montfort's eyes was that he commanded a \"free company\" of\nmercenaries as reckless and blood-thirsty as himself. De Montfort\ncherished a lofty ambition: he aspired to, and in fact held, an exalted\nposition in the estimation of William; and this he well knew was due in\ngreat part to the number of lances in his retinue, and the men-at-arms\nwho followed his standard.\n\nNeed we say that Alice scorned this hateful yoke; for the warm current\nof romance which ran in her southern blood demanded a nobler and\ncourtlier knight than Vigneau as the object of her love. Through a vista\nin the noble line of beeches and oaks which studded the park she had a\nfull view of the castle and its defenders, and she shuddered as she\ncontemplated the impending carnage and bloodshed which hovered over the\ncamp and the castle alike. Thus, often as she sat in her tent did she\nwatch the mailed Saxon chief, as he paced his walls and directed the\nhousecarles as they laboured at the fortifications--far too often,\nindeed, for her peace of mind; for the contrast between Oswald's mien\nand Vigneau's was most glaring. Then the fact that Oswald was fighting\nagainst fearful odds, and for dear life, awoke the keenest interest in\nhim, whilst the stories current in the camp of his prowess threw around\nhim a glamour most piquant.\n\nOften Alice would turn to her favourite maid and confidante, Jeannette,\nfor confirmation of her thoughts.\n\n\"Methinks he is a comely knight, this Saxon, and valiant withal.\nJeannette, how sayest thou? is it not so?\"\n\n\"He is a comely knight, my lady, and brave too, the fighting men say.\"\n\n\"Didst thou notice, when he removed his visor to answer the Count's\nsummons, his handsome visage? 'Twas, I thought, so like the statue of\nMars in the old home in Normandy. The same curly locks; the same\ninflexible cast of features, as though ready to front a host. Didst thou\nnotice this, Jeannette?\"\n\n\"I marked it much, my lady.\"\n\n\"Yet, didst thou notice, there was a nobility about the open brow which\nbespeaks a magnanimity which wondrously beseemeth brave men?\"\n\n\"I noticed all this, my lady.\"\n\n\"Ah me, Jeannette, I read those old romances in my father's hall, and\nlistened to the stories of Christian knights and warriors told me by the\ngood sisters of St. Justin's, until I came to think that all knights and\nsoldierly men must be brave to avenge the oppressed, and magnanimous to\nthe fallen and the weak, scorning to wreak vengeance upon helpless men\nand women. I thought all brave men must be at least chivalrous to my\nsex. I thought all brave men must be virtuous, too; for how could they\nbe brave to conquer their enemies, and yet be the slaves of their own\nover-grown lusts like this Baron Vigneau?\"\n\n\"These are evil times, lady. I much fear me that nothing good thrives\nnow; and the Baron may not be much worse than others, though I go in\ndaily fear of him. His gloating eyes are ever upon me, and once he\ncaught me in his arms. But let him beware! I carry that in my bosom will\nteach him a lesson he will not need to learn over again!\" and she\ndisplayed the flashing blade of a small stiletto.\n\n\"Listen, Jeannette! I saw the Baron lay hold upon a young and beautiful\nlady, who had found shelter with the monks down at the abbey. I heard\nhis lascivious, gloating words, and I looked into his greedy eyes, and\nhis steely gaze made me shudder as though it were the gaze of a serpent.\nI hate him, but I fear him beyond expression!\"\n\n\"Hush, lady! Perhaps you will think better of him when these horrid\ntimes have passed.\"\n\n\"Never, Jeannette! My heart's revolt is complete. Let death come, and\nwelcome, but never wedlock with him. He is but a huge mountain of\nevil-smelling carrion. I shall hie me to Normandy, and there in my books\nI'll find a worthy knight, all brave and pure, and I'll wed him in\nimagination. But I will never share my young life with a knight besotted\nand cruel as Vigneau.\"\n\n\"Hush, lady. He comes to your tent. Shall I retire?\"\n\n\"No, no! Stay by me, Jeannette. I shall feign sickness; let me lean my\nhead upon you.\"\n\nBaron Vigneau unceremoniously brushed aside the curtains and stalked\ninto the tent. His gait was unsteady, and his eyes bloodshot;\nunmistakable evidences of a recent debauch.\n\n\"What, Alice, how is this?\" said he, taking her hand in his. But it\ninvoluntarily shrank from his grasp. \"What! aren't we friends yet? I did\nbut drag the fair Saxon from among those monkish scoundrels to save her\nlife.\"\n\n\"You seemed loth to part with her, Baron.\"\n\n\"Well, well, we'll take a goose till we can get our swan. But no great\nharm would have been done. They're jolly fellows, those monks, and know\nwhat's what, I warrant. The wench wouldn't have suffered, exchanging\nsniffling priests for a valiant knight.\"\n\nAlice shuddered, and made haste to change the subject.\n\n\"What says the Saxon knight to your latest summons?\"\n\n\"'Saxon whelp,' is much more like it, I trow. Well, he struts himself\nupon his trumpery battlements like a valiant scarecrow. I would he were\na true knight and worthy of my prowess, I would challenge him to single\ncombat, and you should see how he would fare when matched with Norman\nvalour. But let him boast himself a day or two until we get our gear\nready; then, if he does not get a short shrift in the _melee_, we'll\nhave a little sport with him and make him dance to the music these\nSaxons like least best.\"\n\n\"Have you offered him honourable terms?\"\n\n\"Honourable terms to a dog of a Saxon! He'll get the same terms as other\nSaxons, a sudden exit at the sword's point, or a slower process but a\nrougher passage. I am hoping we shall see sport yet.\"\n\nAlice shuddered, for she knew too well that instruments of torture were\nmeant; and she well knew that the Baron would not only use them, but\nwould derive positive pleasure in watching the agonies of his victim.\n\n\"I don't care about such practices; they are hideous and barbarous. What\ngood it can do to massacre and torture helpless men and women I can't\ntell; indeed, I cannot help despising those who indulge in such\ndetestable things.\"\n\n\"You have been trained in too gentle a school to relish these rough\ntimes, Alice. We must exterminate these Saxon pests, especially the\nleaders, and those who have spirit in them. The churls may serve some\nuseful purpose, when we have knocked their freemen manners out of them.\nBut they will need to be well knocked about, and ground into shape.\"\n\n\"When will it all end? And if this castle is taken is it to be our\nresting-place? I am aweary of being dragged at the heels of a soldiery\nthirsting like wild beasts for blood and plunder.\"\n\n\"Ha, ha! Softly, softly, my sweet one! This is to be the end of it for\nus. Then comes love and downy pillows--eh, my queen, is it not so?\" said\nhe, endeavouring to chuck her under the chin.\n\nAlice hastily fled, followed by her maid; for, sickening as was\nVigneau's general conversation, his amorous advances begat in her an\noverpowering disgust.\n\nA horrible scowl spread itself over Vigneau's base countenance, and he\nstood as though petrified with rage. Then his tongue gave vent to this\npent-up storm, and, with a volley of oaths and threatenings, he strode\nout of the tent, demoniacal hatred of his betrothed raging in his heart.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nVILLAINS PLOTTING.\n\n    \"And my imaginations are as foul\n    As Vulcan's stithy.\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\nThe same day, a little before nightfall, Baron Vigneau strode across the\ngreensward to the spot where his own followers were bivouacking beneath\nsome huge beech trees. \"Pierre,\" said he, calling to a stalwart and\nvillainous-looking soldier, who was engaged in a noisy chaffering with\nsome comrades, \"I have a dainty bit of work for you, Pierre. Just such a\ncommission as you love next best to swilling old Saxon ale.\"\n\n\"What is it your lordship has in the wind now? It has some connection\nwith wine or wenches, I stake my rosary on it.\"\n\n\"Thou had better throw thy rosary into the first ditch thou comes\nacross; for if thou tell thy beads in proportion to thy sins, thou can\nfind no time for anything else; and if thou do penance for half thy\nsins, and be d----d for the other half, why, marry, thou might as well\nbe d----d for the whole. But I warrant _that_ the end of thee in any\ncase, villain; so there's an end on't. But I want none of thy scurvy\nimpudence, mark me! I want thy ears, and the best discretion thou hast.\nI have a delicate mission for thee to perform--a mission well suited to\nthy tender and susceptible disposition.\"\n\n\"Many thanks for your lordship's highly valued appreciation. But truly,\nwhen I quit my sins I'll have to quit your service; for how a saint will\nmanage the devil's business I cannot tell. Indifferently well, I fancy.\"\n\n\"Silence, sirrah, or I'll crop thy ears! Listen to me! Down at the\nmonastery there is a Saxon wench--a gem of the first water. None of your\nbare-legged slotch-puddles, with a figure as shapely as an ill-made\nwine-butt. She is a genuine offshoot of the Saxon nobility, I am told. I\nwant thee to do a little delicate negotiation for me, such as thou art\njustly famous for. If thou do it well, thou shalt rise even higher in my\nesteem.\"\n\n\"Ah, I see; a delicate mission truly!\"\n\n\"Stop the wagging of thy tongue, knave, and take heed to what I say.\nThis is not the daughter of a villainous churl, bred and reared on a\nmidden, take note. So I will have this business done accordingly.\"\n\n\"Ah, I comprehend it all. This is potter's ware, that must not be soiled\nin transit. All damage and defacement must be reserved for your\nrespectable self.\"\n\n\"Just so! Don't poke thy villainous phiz--which reminds me of a keg of\nwine gone sour--beneath her hood for kisses on thy own account. I'll\nhave none of it! Just do thine errand as a Christian should, and----\"\n\n\"Christian, forsooth, I think you said just now, Baron?\"\n\n\"Eh? Stop thy chatter, dog, when I am speaking! Thy tongue will cut thy\nthroat some day, villain, if thou sharpen it a little more, now mark\nthat! Thou art getting much too ready with thy scurvy impudence. Just\nattend to me and shut thy mouth. I have these further instructions for\nthee. This business, understand, must be done in the dark, and thy\ntongue must not wag of it--or any of thy comrades' either, mark me. Her\nladyship, over yonder,\" said he, jerking his thumb over his left\nshoulder in the direction of Alice's tent, \"tosses her head a little too\nmuch for my stomach already, and she has worked herself up into a devil\nof a fume, just because I took a fancy to this same wench a little time\nago. So let there be no hullaballoo over it, mind that. I know what I'm\nabout,\" said he, with a brutal chuckle. \"When your game's afield you\nmust tread softly, that's my point, but when it's bagged--ha, ha! you\nmay skin it anyhow you please. So, so! wait awhile; my turn will come\nby-and-by, and when I get the bit within her teeth--well, never mind\nthat just now. There's no need to tell all one's mind to a scurvy\ntrooper,\" he muttered, under his breath. \"There, now thou knows thy\nbusiness; but don't bring her to the camp, and don't get drunk and\nbungle the whole thing.\"\n\nPierre was both a ready and a capable tool of the Baron's, and\nindispensable to him in the life of brutality and villainy which he led.\nSo promptly he set about selecting some half a dozen of his comrades to\nassist him in carrying out his master's behests. As the shadows of\nevening began to gather about the camp, they mounted their horses and\nstole away from the encampment at a brisk trot, reaching the monastery\njust as the evening twilight had deepened into the sombre gloom of\nnight. \"Let us dismount here,\" said Pierre, \"and leave our horses\noutside the grounds; for the less row there is in this business the\nbetter it will suit the Baron. I suppose as usual it will be a\nscreeching affair, and if we do not be careful we shall have the whole\nbrood of pious gentry at our heels in a trice.\" So, hastily dismounting\nand leaving their horses in charge of one of their number, they strode\nup to the entrance gates, which they found in charge of two of the\nNorman soldiery, by whom they were promptly admitted.\n\n\"I say, Jaques,\" said Pierre, addressing one of the guard, \"can you tell\nus whereabouts this Saxon wench called Ethel may be found?\"\n\n\"You will find her in the monks' quarters sure enough,\" said Jaques;\n\"but I would advise you to get one of the kitchen scullions to lead the\nway for you; that will be your best plan.\"\n\nSo, stealthily wheeling round the main building, they entered the\nrefectory kitchen, where they found several of the meaner lay brothers\noccupied in the menial tasks of that department, whilst a number of\nhalf-starved and ragged mendicants sat round the spacious hall, drinking\nthe small ale and munching the bacon and bread with which they had been\nprovided. With abject consternation and fear they beheld the advent of\nthese troopers; but Pierre immediately laid hold of one of them.\n\n\"Varlet,\" said he, \"where is the Saxon wench Ethel to be found?\"\n\nThe Saxon, clown as he was, took in the situation at once, and tried, by\naffecting even greater silliness than his clownish looks betokened, to\nevade the question. Pierre whipped out his sword and, grasping him by\nthe throat, said,--\n\n\"None of thy lying, churl! Lead the way. I'll follow; and if thou\nmislead me I'll run my sword through thy body in a twinkling. Stop here,\ntwo of you men, and see these skulking villains do not make a hubbub.\nLet the others follow me. Now march, hound!\" said he, giving the Saxon a\nvicious <DW8> with the point of his sword. The Saxon led the way with\nmuch greater alacrity of body than of mind, but it did the business\neffectively, for they quickly reached Ethel's room.\n\n\"Now for it!\" said Pierre. \"Diplomacy will ruffle this pretty bird's\nfeathers the least, so I'll oil my tongue for the occasion. But have you\nthe cloak ready, men?\"\n\n\"Aye, aye! all's ready!\"\n\nPierre knocked at the door, and without further ceremony entered. But no\nsooner did Ethel set eyes on his unsavoury visage than she knew that\nmischief was meant, and she started to her feet and slid her hand into\nher bosom.\n\nPierre doffed his helmet, and assuming a bland and hypocritical tone,\nsaid that \"he had been commissioned by the Norman lady who had showed\nher a kindness the other day, to bid the Saxon lady come to her in the\nNorman camp, where she would be protected and cared for with every\nregard to her noble extraction and gentle blood.\"\n\nBut Ethel was not deceived. There is a subtle force in the tones of\nsincerity which the most accomplished liar can never successfully\nsimulate. We are far oftener convinced by this indefinable something in\na man's eye, and in his tones, than by the words he utters. When we have\nflung away this quality of candour and truthfulness, liar and knave will\nring out in our utterances, though we use the utmost art of a magician\nto hide it. Ethel saw through this ruse, though she dare not show it. So\nshe manoeuvred to gain time.\n\n\"If you will kindly wait until morning, I shall have a little time to\nprepare. Some of the servants will find you comfortable quarters for the\nnight. If you call me early I shall be ready.\"\n\n\"I dare not disobey my lady's orders, who has sent horses and an escort.\nI will wait a few minutes for you. But my lady requested me to ask you\nto come right away, for her ladyship's ample wardrobe would be at your\nservice.\"\n\n\"I will acquaint the Abbot first, as I am afraid he will be much\ndistressed if I depart without his knowledge. I shall be but a few\nminutes.\"\n\n\"I am sorry I cannot allow this. My orders are very explicit, and I must\nobey. If I have to use force to execute them, I shall be sorry; but I\nmust ask you to accompany us forthwith,\" said Pierre, dropping into his\nusual menacing and rasping tone of voice, and advancing towards Ethel.\n\n\"Yes, villain, I am not deceived by you, nor by any of your villainous\ncrew!\" said Ethel, drawing from her bosom a brightly shining blade and\nspringing at him like a wild cat. Instantly half a dozen strong hands\nwere laid upon her, the dagger was wrested from her, and a soldier's\ncloak muffled thickly over her face to stifle her screams. Then Pierre\ngathered her up in his strong arms and bore her, struggling, along the\npassage, and over the greensward, and through the entrance gates.\n\nImmediately the Normans' backs were turned the news spread, I being\napprised at once of the outrage which had been done. As I stumbled along\nin the darkness I met with Badger, who, with a stout cudgel in his hand,\nand bow-and-arrows slung over his shoulders, was rushing eagerly to the\nfray.\n\n\"Ah, is that your Grace?\" said he. \"Where are those Norman carrion? Have\nthey cleared the ground?\"\n\n\"I am afraid they have got clear away. Is not that the clatter of their\nhorses' hoofs I hear beyond the walls?\"\n\n\"It is, without a doubt. I'll track them as easily as a hound tracks a\ndeer.\"\n\n\"Go after them, Badger, and see what becomes of the maiden. I will away\nto the Norman camp. If I can get speech of the fair Norman perhaps these\nmen may be made to disgorge their prey. But, Badger, be not too ready\nwith those carnal weapons, for it will greatly exasperate them; and\nremember they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.\"\n\n\"The application must be for the Normans, Father, for I take but my bow\nand my quiver, and just a splinter of timber. But if I tickle not their\nflanks with a shaft or two before the night is out, why then the witches\nof Addergyll may take me for a dolt and a coward.\"\n\nSo saying, he glided off like an arrow; but I saw in the darkness that\nhe went not by the way of the entrance, but to an oaken tree which grew\nnear the wall, and, hastily climbing it, he slid along a branch which\noverran the wall, and from thence I heard him drop to the ground\nwithout.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nVILLAINS OUTWITTED.\n\n     \"Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swear? and discourse\n     fustian with one's own shadow?\"--Shakespeare.\n\n\nIn the meantime, the darkness had gathered quickly and deepened into\nnight. This was greatly intensified along the forest path by the lofty\nand overhanging branches of the trees. The road also had its twists and\nturns innumerable, here to avoid a massive tree, and there to avoid a\nhuge boulder; and it was little better than a cattle path at any time,\nand totally impassable, even to the rude Saxon carts, except at broad\ndaylight. In these circumstances Pierre and party moved with extreme\ndifficulty, having frequently to stop to make sure of the road, their\noaths and execrations in the meantime resounding through the wood. But\nBadger, who was as familiar with the forest as the deer which roamed in\nit, sped swiftly and noiselessly after them, catching up with them\nquickly. \"Ah, ah!\" said he, as he caught sight of the black and moving\nmass in front of him; \"one good Saxon is equal to the half-dozen of you\nhere, my hearties! Some of you will have a cold bed in the damp grass\nto-night for your pains, or else my shafts will go mightily astray!\"\nThen, sticking his thorn cudgel in his belt, he took his bow from his\nback and adjusted an arrow, and then he crept stealthily near to them.\nRaising his bow, he drew the arrow to its head; then he withdrew it. \"My\nfingers,\" said he, \"are in a hurry to make a cur of a Norman the less in\nthe world. But where is the use in bagging one of their carrion\ncarcasses and losing the game? To kill a Norman is a luxury; but I must\nrescue Ethel. Let me see whether my purpose cannot be served best by\njoining my wits to my weapons. There are three couples--two abreast; and\nEthel is in charge of the centre one to the right. I can send a shaft in\nthe nape of the last one's neck. That is _one_ certain. Then there will\nbe a stampede probably: I may get another one. Shall I get the villain\nwho has charge of Ethel? Can't make sure; and if I do, Ethel will come\nto the ground with him, and perhaps be badly bruised. Well, some risk\nwill have to be taken, for I am but one.\" So saying, he stole nearer to\nthem. Suddenly, ahead of the party, there was a wide opening in the tops\nof the trees directly in the line of vision, the outlines of the figures\nin front showing boldly against the starlit sky. \"Now is my time,\" said\nBadger, planting his foot firmly, and drawing back the string until it\ntouched his shoulder--when suddenly a hurried footfall in the path\nbehind him arrested his attention, and he darted into the thicket,\nkeeping his arrow in position. When the runner drew near, Badger sprang\nforward and faced the new-comer, with his shaft still in position.\n\"Who's this?\" said he. \"Speak, or I'll let fly my shaft!\"\n\n\"Steady, Badger,\" said the stranger. \"Don't shoot a friend.\"\n\n\"Well timed, Bretwul, I have just been wishing for a Saxon or two! What\nhas brought you?\"\n\n\"The very purpose that brought you here. I heard of that Norman's\nattempt to carry off my young mistress, and I knew the wolf, having\nscented prey like that, would never drop the trail until he ran it down.\nI watched the abbey night by night, in the hope of frustrating his\npurpose; but the villain has got clear off with her.\"\n\n\"Not quite so fast, comrade. If you had been a minute or two later, my\nshafts would have overtaken one or more of them. But it is better as it\nis, for two of us will make a better fight of it than one. But enough of\nthis; they are not two hundred yards ahead of us. There are six\nhorsemen, and the second horseman at the right side has charge of Ethel.\nNow, how are we to effect a rescue?\"\n\nSo the pair debated the matter as they followed on the heels of the\nparty.\n\n\"Well, Bretwul,\" said Badger, \"as I was telling you, I was just going to\ntry a rough-and-ready method when your footsteps arrested me. I knew it\nto be a risky venture, but I little expected any help in the business.\nNow I am inclined to think a more favourable opportunity will turn up\nby-and-by.\"\n\n\"Well, I am inclined to think so myself, Badger. There is the risk that\nthe game would carry the shaft, unless it were hit very squarely; and\nthe odds are the other way in the darkness. Any failure would make it\nbad for the young mistress, it is certain.\"\n\n\"That we must prevent, if possible. But now, what are the chances? These\nNormans have no strong place near in which they can shut her. I can\npromise you they'll not dare to carry her to the camp; there is a lady\nthere who rescued her before, and was desperate savage with the brute\nwho offered her violence then. But they will find a place elsewhere;\nprobably leave her for the night in charge of half their number.\"\n\n\"There's reason in it, Badger. Anyway, it is better to wait awhile, and\nsee if some better chance is forthcoming.\"\n\nSo the pair continued to dog the steps of their adversaries, until,\nemerging from the wood, they struck across an open glade, or clearing,\nin the forest, formerly cultivated by a Saxon yeoman. Soon they reached\nthe fringe of the forest again, where, embowered within its shelter, was\nthe house of this Saxon; but it was deserted and plundered of\neverything. Here they dismounted, Pierre lifting Ethel down and carrying\nher into the house. The cloak was removed, and, lighting a torch, its\nflickering blaze made visible a two-roomed dwelling, rude and damp in\nits tenantless condition. The inner room was doorless, and the outer\ndoor was thrown back and dilapidated. The floors were of earth trodden\nhard. There was a rude attempt at a fireplace in the first room; it was\nbuilt entirely of rough, unhewn stone, whilst its huge, gaping chimney\nwas such, that a man would have had no difficulty in ascending it. Into\nthe inner room Pierre led, or dragged, Ethel; then he fetched a rough\nstone from the fireplace for her to sit upon.\n\n\"Now, fair one,\" said he, \"this is rather a cold place to call home, but\nwe'll soon make it a bit more comfortable. I can see no further\nadvantage in lying in this matter--and I keep a conscience, and don't\nmake a practice of lying for nothing--so I may as well tell you at once\nthat my master admires that pretty face of yours. It is a weakness he\nhas. The more fool he; for it spoils his chances of higher game. Well,\nthat's a riddle you need not puzzle out. But my master is a knight\nrenowned for valour, and for some other things not recommended by the\nworthy Order of Cistercians, or indeed any strict Orders of the pious\ngentry. That, of course, is neither here nor there. But my master, when\nhe hears of your distress, is bound, I believe, by his oath, to succour\nyou; and he is well able to do so. It is the highest wisdom on your part\nto be friends with him. But heigho! no more of that! A fig for doing\nanother man's wooing; 'tis worse than carving for another's eating!\"\n\nHappily, much of this jargon was perfectly unintelligible to Ethel.\n\n\"Here, men,\" said he, turning to his comrades in the other room. \"One of\nyou must mount guard inside the house, and another outside. We will to\ncamp, and return soon with both eatables and drinkables; so make the\nbest of a bad bargain for a little while. Come, men, let us cut the tail\noff this business as quickly as we can.\" So saying, they mounted their\nhorses, and, leading the disengaged ones, their forms were speedily lost\nin the darkness.\n\n\"My fingers itch most dreadfully to try the effect of a shaft upon the\ncarcass of the big lubberly villain who leads the party,\" said Badger,\nraising his bow with the arrow directed towards the hazy forms\ndisappearing in the night.\n\n\"Stay, Badger!\" said Bretwul, laying his hand on him. \"The game's in the\nnet; don't rend it.\"\n\n\"Aye, aye. The fool acts on the thought as it is made, but the wise man\nwhen it is weighed. But as surely as the gallows nods when the rogue\ngoes by, so his time will come!\"\n\n\"Well, Badger, what is to be the next move? We must get to business\nwhilst our chance lasts.\"\n\n\"Right, Bretwul. Well, we shall have to work round from the rear of the\nhouse, and we shall thus get close on them if we move stealthily. I\ndoubt not but we can brain the one outside before he knows where he is;\nthen, two to one is more than the other will be prepared for.\"\n\nSo saying, the pair stole to the rear of the house, and crept round by\nthe gable, until Badger peered round the corner at the fellow on duty\noutside. Fortunately, he had his back to them, and was talking through\nthe open door to his comrade within.\n\n\"Are you ready, Bretwul?\" said Badger, in a whisper to his companion,\nwho followed closely at his heels.\n\nBretwul made no reply, but brandished his Saxon broadsword aloft in\ntoken of his readiness. Then, with the agility of a panther, Badger\nsprang round the corner of the hovel, and, delivering a powerful blow\nwith his cudgel upon the back of the Norman's head, he felled him in\ninsensibility to the ground, whilst another spring quick as lightning\nlanded him within grappling distance of the other Norman. He also, it is\nneedless to say, was quite unprepared for any attack, and had barely\ntime to spring to his feet and raise his arm to ward off Badger's first\nstroke, which sent him staggering against the wall; and Bretwul being in\nclose attendance at that instant, with a sweep of his sword effectually\ncut short all further resistance. Then, returning to the door where the\nother soldier was lying prostrate, he quickly finished the work of\nrevenge.\n\nMeanwhile, Ethel from within witnessed the scuffling going on, but\nwithout comprehending in the least the import of it; she improved the\nopportunity for flight which the struggle afforded her, by bounding\nthrough the open door, and fled like a Will-o'-the-wisp across the open\nglade in a frantic effort to gain the shelter of the forest, whilst her\nrescuers followed full chase in her wake. Very quickly, however,\nBadger's nimble feet caught up to her; when, to her infinite relief, she\ndiscovered that they were faithful friends, who had risked much to free\nher from the custody of the brutal Norman troopers.\n\nWhilst this was transpiring, Pierre and the remainder of his troop\nstumbled along through the darkness of the forest, all unconscious that\ntheir footsteps had been dogged, and their evil purposes frustrated,\njust when they thought they had been crowned with perfect success.\n\n\"This has been neatly done, men,\" said Pierre. \"Now, I wonder what the\nBaron will do for us in the shape of reward!\"\n\n\"Well, I guess none of our pouches will burst with gold pieces, Pierre.\nI expected better pay or more plunder when I took service, I promise\nyou; but his scurvy humours are even worse than his pay. Why don't you\ntake the lead? The whole company is ready for a new master.\"\n\n\"Hold hard a bit. There are others who are getting as tired of his\nhumours as yourself; and if you hear the clash of steel between us you\nneed not be very much surprised, for my temper is none of the smoothest,\nand he may play the bully some day until nothing will settle it but cold\nsteel.\"\n\nWhen they reached the camp, Pierre alone carried the news to his master.\nNo sooner, however, had he put his head within the tent than he gave a\ngrunt of infinite disgust as he set eyes upon the Baron; for he was far\ngone in his cups.\n\n\"Hilloa, Pierre! What now, you scowling villain! What has brought you?\"\nhe bawled, with drunken incoherency; but, drunk as he was, he had\nnoticed Pierre's disgust.\n\n\"We have executed your order, Baron,\" Pierre replied.\n\n\"Executed my order? Who? What have they done?\"\n\n\"The commission you gave me about the Saxon lady down at the monastery.\"\n\n\"The wench that all the pother's about?\"\n\n\"Yes, the same.\"\n\n\"Ah, I remember. Have you got her, Pierre?\"\n\n\"Yes, as snug as anybody could wish. Not a whisper has got abroad.\"\n\n\"Bravo, Pierre! You are a gentleman. Pierre, do you hear? You are a\ngentleman, or a thief, I don't care which,\" giving a drunken chuckle.\n\"Drink, Pierre,\" said he, handing him a flagon of wine with a trembling\nhand.\n\nPierre took the goblet and drained it to the last drop.\n\nVigneau took it again, and looked into it for a moment with maudlin\npensiveness, as though he could scarcely realise that it was really the\nbottom he gazed at. But the quarrelsome humour in him was never so\nrampant as when he was in his cups.\n\n\"There's a pint of good Rhenish gone, Pierre. Gone, too, into a stomach\nthat must be about rotted out with Saxon ale by this time.\"\n\n\"Well, we'll bring them round with soothing draughts of Rhenish,\nmaster.\"\n\n\"Eh, dog? Not with mine, Pierre. With swill if you like, Pierre! Swill\nwill do for a hog like you, Pierre! Eh! Do you hear me? Swill will do\nfor you!\" said the Baron, becoming quarrelsome with drunken excitement.\n\nFortunately, Pierre was sober, or matters would speedily have become\nserious. Checking the rising choler, he said,--\n\n\"What is to be done with this Saxon--Ethel, as she is called?\"\n\n\"What do you know about Ethel, eh? Have you got her, scurvy villain? I\nsay, have you got her? Answer me that.\"\n\n\"I told you we had, not a minute since.\"\n\n\"Eh? Then speak civilly, varlet! Do you know who I am? D---- me, I allow\nthy tongue too much licence. I'll not have such impudence from a scurvy\ntrooper as I've taken lately. I'll teach you I'm a gentleman. Now mark\nme, Pierre. Keep a civil distance. I'll not have it,\" and he began\nfumbling for the hilt of his sword.\n\n\"Pshaw!\" said Pierre, assuming both a look and a tone of disgust.\n\n\"Eh, churl, what now?\" roared Vigneau, in a towering rage, with great\neffort staggering to his feet, and after prolonged exertion getting out\nhis sword, and lunging furiously at Pierre. But the act was too much for\nhim. Lurching head foremost, the sword's point came ignominiously to the\nground with his weight upon it, to prevent his falling flat. The result\nwas, his great weight forced it a foot into the ground, from which his\nutmost efforts failed to extricate it, Pierre, meanwhile, vanishing from\nthe tent with a horse-laugh. Vigneau dropped into his seat and stared\nvacantly at the point where Pierre had vanished, then at the sword\nstanding upright in the ground. But his efforts to recall what it was\nall about were a total failure. Slowly his bleared eyes closed, and soon\nafter he slid from his seat to the ground, to sleep off the effects of\nthe night's debauch.\n\n\"The Baron is drunk and quarrelsome as usual to-night,\" said Pierre to\nhis comrades, as he issued from the tent. \"Nothing can be done with him\ntill morning, and if he be not in a pleasanter humour in the morning,\nand come down handsome for us, you will have to be led by another, I\ntrow. Well, we'll finish the business we have begun. Let us take\nvictuals and a few other things down yonder. It will be a little more\nlike a habitation, and not so like a sty.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nA FRUITLESS EMBASSY.\n\n     \"A bold, bad man.\"--Spenser.\n\n\nTo return to myself. I paced to and fro in the abbey grounds in anguish\nand suspense, waiting for Badger's return, yet almost dreading it, lest\nhe should bring ill news. But midnight passed, and the small hours of\nthe morning came on, with no tidings of Ethel. I feared for her personal\nsafety, and I feared also the effects upon her mind. For I must state\nhere, for the benefit of the reader, that Ethel's surroundings had been\nsuch as to strongly imbue her mind with the heathenish beliefs of her\nancestors. Her father came of an old viking stock, and rigidly adhered\nto the superstitions of his forefathers. He had likewise given to Ethel\na large measure of his stern and aggressive temperament, and had striven\nto instil into her mind his own religious beliefs. I had seen also at\ntimes the strange flashing of the fierce fire within her, when deeply\nstirred. Yet I saw there were elements of gentleness and delicacy in her\ncomposition, inherited in all probability from her mother, who was\nSaxon, and a devout Christian. With my whole energy I had striven, at\nthe request of her dying mother, to train her in the Christian faith:\nbut my opportunities had been of a most desultory nature. Then when I\nbegan to hope that my work would be accomplished, this terrible invasion\noccurred. Thus efforts to show her how the fierce passions and reckless\nbloodshedding of the Norsemen--her father's ancestors--were cruel and\nheathenish, and their religion a gross superstition, were frustrated by\nthis war of usurpation inflicted upon us by a Christian nation, with the\napprobation and blessing of the Pope, whilst at the head of their army\nthey carried sacred banners and holy relics of saints. Thus the\nChristian religion was made to sanction bloodshed and massacre,\nunsparing and fiendish in its extent and in its mercilessness. In the\ntrain of these professedly Christian soldiery also, there followed\nnameless horrors and offences, which outdid the excesses of Norseman and\nDane tenfold. But, worse than all, her father and her two brothers had\nbeen massacred--their home levelled--and she, having to fly to the\nshelter of the sanctuary, only found that the sanctuary was no sanctuary\nto her, and no protection against violence and brutality. It is utterly\nimpossible to imagine any one more completely shorn of every prop and\nstay than she was; and I feared much also for her faith. I knew that\nthere was that in her which would not permit her to tamely submit to\nindignities. But where would her revolt end?\n\nWell, feeling that it would be better to be doing something to effect\nher rescue than to be absorbed in these painful cogitations, I decided I\nwould start at once for the Norman camp. It was a long and a weary tramp\nin the darkness through the forest, but still, I hoped, by patient\nplodding forward, I should reach the camp by daylight. Happily I found I\nhad not overrated my powers. As I drew near, I was challenged by the\noutpost. There was a considerable parleying, and a determination evinced\nto prevent my farther advance. But my sacred calling, coupled with the\nfact that I was unarmed, and that it was now broad daylight, ultimately\nprevailed, and I was conducted to a tent not far from the one occupied\nby Lady Alice de Montfort, with whom, after some time, I received an\naudience, and whom we will in future call Alice. To her I related all\nthat I knew of the outrage, with such description of the persons taking\npart in it as I had been able to gather. From my description of the\nleader, she had no difficulty in identifying Pierre as the man.\n\n\"Well, Father, I may as well tell you at the outset, that this is what I\nexpected. I warned this Saxon lady of the risks she ran by staying at\nthe monastery, but I could not persuade her to accept my protection.\"\n\n\"She has been a great sufferer, gracious madame,\" I replied, \"during\nthese wars; and she was, no doubt, greatly afraid. Probably, also, she\nwas greatly averse to joining your camp; though it was unquestionably a\ngenerous offer on your part.\"\n\n\"Well, reverend Father, I am not saying this to excuse my inaction now,\nbut I assure you from what I know, and what I suspect of the\nparticipants in this outrage, that it would have been far easier to keep\nthe prey from the jaws of the lion than it will be to force his den and\nwrest it from him. I will do my utmost, I assure you. Jeannette,\" said\nshe, turning to her maid, \"let our guest have some refreshment, for he\nwill be weary and faint, I am sure.\" So saying, she departed I know not\nwhere.\n\nShe returned in the course of half an hour; but she gave me little hope\nof success, though she said the Count, her father, had gone out in quest\nof the persons whom he suspected. She was most gracious to me, and asked\nmost anxiously as to whether we were treated properly by the soldiers\nquartered upon us. I suspected very strongly that the comparative\nimmunity from personal molestation we had hitherto enjoyed arose in\ngreat part from her goodwill and protection. She asked many questions\nwith regard to our books; to our endowments; especially to the great\nrelief we had been able to extend to the poor, and to strangers. I was\nhighly impressed, not only with the charms of her person, but with her\nhighly cultivated mind, and gracious demeanour.\n\nI hastened my departure with as little delay as decency would permit;\nfor to tell the truth, I was driven back upon my first hopes, that\nBadger's cunning and prowess would be equal to the emergency. I was thus\nextremely anxious to get me back to the monastery, that I might learn\nhow he had fared. So I hurried over the open plain, and gat me into the\nforest as quickly as I could. For in very deed I felt myself anything\nbut safe, as I noticed jealous eyes watching me narrowly. But I had\nscarcely entered the forest when I found myself in the presence of the\nungodly Norman who had desecrated the sanctuary, and endeavoured to\ncarry off Ethel--whom, also, I strongly suspected of being at the bottom\nof this latest outrage. I involuntarily crossed myself, and uttered a\nprayer for help, for I felt instinctively that I had myself in very\ntruth fallen into the jaws of the lion.\n\n\"Well, shaveling,\" said he, \"thou hast said thy prayers, I perceive.\nThou hast done well to be prepared, lest the devil should get thee. What\nhas been thy errand to the camp so early? Be explicit and prompt, or\nthou wilt rue it.\"\n\n\"I have had particular business there, my lord.\"\n\n\"I knew that already, dolt! Let us have details. With whom hast thou had\nbusiness?\"\n\n\"With Lady de Montfort.\"\n\n\"So I thought. What was the matter that disturbed your saintly bosom,\nold smooth-pate? Out with it!\"\n\n\"There has been an outrage committed upon us, and one of our refugees\ncarried off by force from the monastery.\"\n\n\"Ah! that was terrible! So you first despatched a posse of your\nbog-trotting Saxon churls to murder two of my men; then you dragged your\nbattered old shins through the woods, to raise a hullaballoo at the\ncamp. It was well done. Now, what shall I give you for your trouble? I\nthink a broken neck is about your deserts.\"\n\nSo, without more ado, he laid violent hands upon me, and tore my cloak\nfrom my back. Then he tried to strangle me; but I had been stout of\nlimb, and agile as any of my fellows, when I was young, so I resisted\nwith all my might. I was delighted to find, in spite of the disadvantage\nof a score of years, he was more blown than I was. Eventually, I was\nable to slip from his grasp, and immediately took to my heels. He was\nyounger, but stout and bulky; and I found in this point, also, I was\ngreatly his superior, and quickly increased the distance between us. So\nhe gave up the chase, and permitted me for the time being to go in\npeace. For this wonderful deliverance I gave God thanks.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nOSWALD'S DEFENCE OF HIS CASTLE.\n\n     \"Cry 'Havock!' and let slip the dogs of war.\"--Shakespeare.\n\n\nIn the meantime, the Normans had made diligent preparation for an\nassault on the castle. Now the castle could not be described as a very\nformidable stronghold, or one designed to withstand a regular siege. It\nhad been built mainly to resist the incursions of the Scots, who\nperiodically raided in force into these parts, their purpose being\nplunder and cattle-lifting. They overran the country quickly, getting\nthem back as speedily as possible, before the Saxons had time to\nconcentrate, so that no very great powers of resistance were needed to\nrepel them, or weary them. Occasionally also the Danes carried fire and\nsword to our parts; but since the conquest of Northumbria and the north\nof England generally, by Halfdane, and the settlement of so many of his\nfollowers in the land, we had not been afflicted much with their\nincursions in this part of the kingdom, during my lifetime. Thus, the\nstrength of the castle being sufficient for our hereditary foes, it\nstill was not such as would be likely to long resist the experienced and\nnumerous foes now pitched before it. The castle itself stood on an\neminence; was built of good solid masonry, with a battlemented tower\nrising from its centre, but without any special design. It was\nstrengthened by a wall which ran completely round, forming a spacious\nenclosure, in which cattle could be speedily and safely housed in cases\nof emergency. This wall was lofty and fairly proportioned, but its great\nlength made it difficult to man by the handful of Saxon defenders. It is\nwell also to note that, as in the case of nearly all the strongholds of\nthe land, it was provided with a secret passage, known only to the\ntrusted followers of Oswald--a passage which could be entered by the\ninitiated at a certain place in the circular stair which led to the\nturret. This underground passage had an emerging place, carefully\nconcealed in a dense wood some distance away.\n\nIn a very few days the Normans had prepared themselves with scaling\nladders, and had cut long poles from the forest for the purpose of\npushing the defenders from the wall. Mantelets were prepared of boards\nfastened together, behind which the attacking parties could advance on\nthe defenders, without exposing themselves to the arrows and javelins\nwhich would be hurled at them. The leaders also had pavises, or large\nshields, which covered the person from head to foot. The time had now\ncome when the assault might be made, it was believed, with impunity, so\nthe Norman forces were put into battle array, a small number only being\nappointed to the task of protecting the women and the camp.\n\nIt was a fine sight to see these disciplined men as they moved to the\nattack in orderly array. Everything bore evidence to the fact that the\nplan of attack, and the marshalling and disposition of the forces, was\nthe work of a competent general, one who was well versed in the art of\nwar.\n\nThe Norman bowmen were thrown out in companies on either flank, for the\nprotection of the forces who were to conduct the assault, and also for\nthe purpose of distracting and harassing the defenders as they strove to\nrepel the attack of the besiegers.\n\nIt needed little military knowledge to see that the issue could not be\ndoubtful. The meagre band of Saxons, stretched in thin line over the\nextent of wall, could never hold it against the multitude who swarmed to\nthe attack. Oswald alone, of all the Saxons, was fully equipped for the\nresistance of the clouds of barbed arrows about to be poured amongst\nthem. His second in command, Wulfhere, was partly clad in a light coat\nof mail; but, for the most part, leathern jerkins were the only\nprotection they had. Had it been an attack in the open, in which the\nforces were equal, these rough Saxons would have given a good account of\nthemselves. Any one of them could have been depended upon to bring down\na stag at a hundred paces. Whilst, if it had been a hand-to-hand\nstruggle with their broadswords, or their pikes, they would have fought\nwith the ferocity of tigers. But here they were outnumbered by ten to\none, and so circumstanced that they could not hurl themselves upon their\nadversaries, and by sheer bravery strike terror into their ranks. They\nmust wait to be attacked, and for every arrow they shot, and for every\njavelin they flung, there would be half a dozen returned.\n\nVigneau, Reynard, Jules Reynard and other leaders, were grouped together\nwith De Montfort, who gave orders for successive movements of the\nbesiegers, as though, with the prevision which comes of a carefully\nmatured plan, he could see every act of the stirring drama about to be\nenacted.\n\nNow the order for assault is given. The attacking party, with their\nmantelets mounted on rude wheels, steadily advance across the plain, the\narchers disposing themselves to the right and left in advance of the\nmain body, giving the attacking forces the form of a crescent. The\narchers, dodging adroitly beneath the trees, were able to get near the\nwall, thus threatening to put the defenders between a cross fire. The\nSaxons, with bow in hand and pike at their feet, but without a shout or\nthe wasting of a single arrow, stood grimly awaiting the onset. The\nNorman archers commenced the attack by letting fly a volley of arrows,\nbut at too great a distance to be effective. Some of them fell short,\nand the others were easily dodged by the Saxons, who, as yet, had no\npressing call upon their attention. But now the attacking party draw\nnear, and, as they do so, they become more exposed. At a signal from\nOswald a stinging volley of arrows from the Saxons come hissing amongst\nthem with galling effect. At this the pace of the besiegers is\nquickened, and their archers are quickly within distance to do deadly\nexecution with their arrows.\n\nThe Saxons, too, find it necessary to let go their bows, and grasp their\njavelins and spears to deal with foes in close contact, who by this time\nhave begun to scale the wall. The foremost Normans were met with a\nmerciless slaughter, and it is probable that never a Norman that day\nwould have kept a foothold on the wall had it not been for the support\nof their archers. These, being now at close quarters, pour their arrows\nin pitiless showers into the ranks of the defenders, and many a stout\nSaxon falls with dozens of these barbed messengers of death in his body.\nWhere the attack is hottest, the Saxons reel and stagger, a foothold on\nthe wall is gained, and the Normans are swarming upon it. Oswald\nimmediately dashes to the spot and his battle-axe descends in thunder\nstrokes. Right and left the Normans are beaten down before him; and,\nwith a shout, the Saxons signal the wall clear again.\n\nBut the respite is brief, for quickly Oswald's attention is directed\nelsewhere by the loud shouts of the Normans. He turns a hurried glance\nthitherward, only to see that the Normans there have gained a foothold\non the wall, and are rapidly overbearing his handful of men, though\nWulfhere manfully stems the tide, and deals out to the Normans many a\ndeadly blow. In a moment, Oswald also is on the spot to the rescue, and\nonce more the tide of victory smiles upon the Saxon cause. Again it is\nonly for a brief span, for like an oncoming and resistless tide the\nNormans surge upon the wall, and beat back the slender ranks of the\nSaxons. One advantage, however, the Saxons now reap; the combatants are\nso mingled in one deadly hand-to-hand struggle, that the Norman archers\ndare not let fly their shafts, and can only stand, and, with bated\nbreath, watch the sanguinary struggle.\n\nIn the distance yonder, and at the entrance to the tent, there stand\nAlice and her maid Jeannette, who shudderingly watch the carnage\nproceed. Oswald and Wulfhere are now fighting back to back, with shield\non arm, and having exchanged their axes for their broadswords. Together\nthey cleave down the ranks of the enemy, until like sheep they quail\nbefore these stalwart Saxons.\n\n\"What matchless valour this pair of Saxon chieftains display, Jeannette!\nIf ever heroism and valour deserved to win a battle, surely this is the\ntime!\"\n\n\"How frightened our men-at-arms seem to be!\" said Jeannette. \"Do you see\nhow frantically the Baron raves there at the foot of the wall, and\nshouts at the men? He boasts him of his valour. Why does he not mount\nthe wall and face this Saxon?\"\n\n\"What human lives are being sacrificed! 'Tis most dreadful! May God send\nus peace quickly!\" murmured Alice, shading her eyes at the spectacle\nbefore her. \"These are our people, Jeannette, but I must confess my\nsympathies are with the Saxons. This leader, too, defends his home with\nthe courage of a hero. God grant he may not fall into the hands of our\nmen alive, or he will be tortured with fiendish brutality for this day's\nwork!\"\n\nThe struggle still proceeds with gathering intensity and fierceness.\nBaron Vigneau, indeed, as Jeannette had described him, does rave and\ngesticulate frantically. \"Down with him! Now, men, rush on him two or\nthree together! Close with him! Push him from the wall! Hurl something\nat him!\" But nevertheless he makes no effort to mount the wall himself.\n\nDe Montfort also stands there nervously directing the attack. \"Here,\nman,\" said he, to a stalwart soldier by his side, \"heave up this long\npole and aim a blow at the Saxon.\" The man heaves up the pole, and, with\na run and a powerful blow, he struck Oswald on the head. The blow\ncompletely staggers the Saxon; for a moment or two he hovers on the edge\nof the wall endeavouring to recover his balance; but, alas! it is all in\nvain, and he drops, with his heavy harness on, down into the castle yard\na dozen feet or more.\n\nAt this untoward event the Saxons, in a perfect panic, rush for the\ndrawbridge thrown across to the wall from one of the barbicans, and\nintended as a means of retreat by Oswald in the last resort. But the\nNormans have intercepted them and cut them off from this, and the\ncustodians, seeing that this would be seized by the Normans, immediately\nwithdraw it. Then the Saxons wildly leap from the wall, and for dear\nlife's sake, rush like hunted hares, for the neighbouring thicket.\n\nFor a little while attention is distracted from the fallen chieftain by\nthe efforts of the Normans to cut off these flying Saxons. But down\nthere in the castle yard lies Oswald, stunned, bleeding, and insensible;\nhelpless to fight or to fly. Wulfhere witnesses the helpless condition\nof his leader, and down he leaps and lifts him up and detaches his\nvisor. As he does so, a deep sob escapes from the parted lips of Oswald;\nbut there is no further sign of life or returning consciousness.\n\nWhilst this has been transpiring, the attention of the Normans has been\ndistracted from the leaders by the necessity to clear the walls of the\nfew Saxons who, disdaining to seek safety in flight, die fighting most\ndeterminedly at their posts. Now, however, the Normans turn their\nattention to the two Saxon leaders entrapped within the castle yard.\nImmediately they send up a yell of fiendish delight, as they behold the\nalmost frantic efforts of Wulfhere to arouse his unconscious master, and\nrestore him to his senses.\n\nBut 'twas in vain. Oswald's head had been rudely jammed by the steel\nhelmet in the shock of falling; and it was soon apparent to Wulfhere\nthat the brief respite was now exhausted, without bringing any signs of\nreturning consciousness. He threw his left arm around the waist of his\nhelpless chieftain, and drew him, harness and all, upon his hip, and,\ngrasping his broadsword in his right hand, he made with all the speed he\ncould command for the door of the castle, hoping by this manoeuvre to\ngain time.\n\nBut the stalwart and muscular form of Oswald, encumbered as it was by\nheavy armour, made progress painfully slow. In the meantime, the Normans\nreversed their scaling ladders and slid down into the quadrangle, and\ncame trooping after the fugitives. Wulfhere saw his task was hopeless,\nand with a cry of pain like a wounded deer he dropped his helpless\nburthen on the greensward, and, furious as some wild beast, sprang at\nthe yelling foe, cutting down the foremost at a blow. Following up the\nothers, who quailed before him, he quickly laid half a dozen corpses in\na ghastly circle round his master. But there was no end to the stream of\nfurious assailants who were fast surrounding him. \"'Tis in vain!\" he\npitifully exclaimed. \"Oh, had I here but a score of stout men to make a\nrampart of steel, we would defy the yelling crew! God forgive me for\nthis coward's act, my master! I would gladly die with you, but I know I\nshall better do your will by reserving my worthless life for service to\nyour followers.\"\n\nSo saying, he bounded over the prostrate form of Oswald, and across the\nsward, mounting the half-dozen steps at the terrace entrance at a\nspring, and dashing through the open door.\n\nThe Normans followed him in concert; but when it became a question of\nsingle file to pass the portal, without knowing whether Wulfhere was\nlurking within, why then they in \"honour preferred one another,\" with\nthe result that they one and all ceased following Wulfhere, and\ncourageously returned to help their fellows to heap indignities upon the\nprostrate Earl.\n\nMeanwhile, the gates had been burst open and the Norman soldiers, camp\nfollowers and all, had pressed into the enclosure, Alice and Jeannette,\nwith the women, bringing up the rear.\n\n\"Whatever are they clambering and yelling so about, Jeannette? Is it the\ndead chieftain?\"\n\n\"I think so, my lady. They are like wolves worrying their prey.\"\n\n\"It is a pity so brave a man should perish. If he be not dead I will\nbeseech my father for his life; though I am afraid it will be to little\npurpose.\"\n\n\"See, my lady, he is not dead; he is standing up.\"\n\nOswald had recovered consciousness, and, stripped of his helmet, looked\naround, though deathly pale and half-dazed.\n\n\"Do not kill him, men!\" roared Vigneau. \"We'll have some sport\nto-morrow, and then you may cut his throat if he survives.\"\n\n\"Do you hear what that beast in human form is saying, Jeannette?\"\n\n\"It is horrible, my lady. Let us go away; I am quite sickened.\"\n\n\"Stay a minute, Jeannette. Let us have a good look at him. How pale he\nis! But look at his noble countenance--handsome and expressive as a\nhero's should be! Such countenances have men only who live temperately\nand think purely. Contrast, Jeannette, the blotched and bleared\ncountenance of Vigneau. There is a tell-tale and an index at once to the\nbeastly life and foul imagination. How my heart revolts at the sight of\nhim! I would prefer the touch of a vampire.\"\n\nMeanwhile, Wulfhere threaded his way by a path familiar to him, until he\nreached the foot of the circular stair which led to the turret,\nascending which, and watching through a loophole, he heard the command\nto spare Oswald's life until the morrow.\n\n\"Thank Heaven! Whilst there is life there is hope. If a desperate effort\nto rescue him will succeed, I count upon a few daring spirits to venture\nit.\"\n\nBut the tramp of heavy feet resounding through the corridors warned him\nto delay no longer. Turning his face towards a farther ascent, he ran\nhis hand along the wall in the darkness until the feel of a certain\nstone arrested his attention, applying his strength to which, it slowly\nrevolved, disclosing an aperture into which a man might drop.\n\nInto this aperture Wulfhere disappeared; and the stone revolved to its\nplace again.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nALICE DE MONTFORT SETS FREE THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.\n\n    \"O woman! lovely woman! nature made thee\n    To temper man; we had been brutes without you.\"\n\n    Otway.\n\n\nIt was only by the exercise of the utmost energy that the soldiery and\ncamp followers of the Normans were prevented from looting the castle.\nThey were somewhat appeased by an unlimited supply of ale from the\ncellars, and promises of money. Bonfires were lit in the enclosure, and\ncarcasses of sheep and oxen roasted thereat, the whole resolving itself\ninto a grand carousal of drinking, singing, and rough jollity. A certain\nnumber of the better class were admitted to the castle, where the same\nkind of thing was repeated in much the same fashion.\n\nIn the large hall the leaders feasted and drank with little more of\nrefinement and seemliness than the vulgar people, except that they drank\nwine and mead.\n\n\"Well, Captain Reynard!\" said the Count. \"Is all well?\"\n\n\"All well, sire; the gates secured, the place explored, and, I think I\nmay add, the Saxons so thoroughly routed and cowed that they will have\nlittle stomach for more fighting yet awhile.\"\n\n\"That may be; but I fancy we should be found very unprepared if they\ndared venture an attempt to rescue their leader.\"\n\n\"You may depend upon me, Count, to keep a sharp look-out; I shall not\nclose my eyes in sleep until the sun rises to-morrow. But I have no fear\nthe Saxons will attempt a rescue. As I said, they are so thoroughly\nbeaten, and the remnant so glad to be able to escape with their lives,\nthat they will venture no more.\"\n\nAn exceedingly busy and anxious time was spent by Alice and her maids in\ntheir efforts to protect the domestics left in charge from the drunken\nfrolics of both officers and men-at-arms. This would have been a task\nutterly beyond their powers but for the watchful eye and stern\ndiscipline of the Count, who, despising the drunken excesses of his\nlieutenants, with ceaseless care and watchfulness kept watch and ward\nwithin and without the castle.\n\nAlice and Jeannette, too, with the curiosity of their sex, and with\never-increasing interest, explored the rooms of the castle, marvelling\ngreatly at the many tokens of taste and refinement manifested therein,\nand which they little expected to find in the castle of a Saxon\nchieftain.\n\nSaid Alice, \"My interest grows strangely from day to day, Jeannette, in\nthis Saxon chieftain. I see no evidence of the boorishness I have always\nassociated with the lives of the Barons of England. Now also that he is\nin such sore distress, and hath so sad a fate before him, my heart\ngrieves sorely for him.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lady, I cannot help thinking that these Saxons would despise\nthe beastly orgies proceeding under this roof, and outside.\"\n\n\"Yes, Jeannette; but what will it be on the morrow, when this Saxon is\ngiven over to their cruelty? It makes my blood curdle! Would I knew how\nto set him free! My heart tells me it would be an act of mercy done to\nmy own people as well as to him; for to spare my people the humiliation\nand degradation of the morrow's inhumanity were indeed a good deed,\nwhether they would appreciate it or not.\"\n\n\"My lady, if you wish it, I warrant we can do it. I know how to set\nabout it. Paul Lazaire mounts guard, and I can coax the simpleton into\nobeying me. I declare if I had to bid him stand on his head he would do\nit.\"\n\n\"But, Jeannette, that would probably get Paul into trouble. Perhaps it\nwould cost him his life. That would not do.\"\n\n\"Well, if you will not let me manage Paul, I cannot tell how to help\nyou.\"\n\n\"But cannot we manage it without implicating Paul. I could make a\nsleeping draught which would put him to rest speedily.\"\n\n\"Oh, that would be fine, my lady! Just the very thing! Put it in some\nmulled ale, and I will dose him.\"\n\n\"But how then, Jeannette? Have we courage to open the prison doors? I am\nafraid our nerves would fail us down in those damp and ghostly cells.\"\n\n\"Not at all, my lady. I will go; my heart will not fail me, for it would\njust suit me to do it.\"\n\n\"Well, it sounds strange we should thus plot to deceive our people; but\nmy heart prompts me to do this deed, come what may.\"\n\n\"Yes, let us do it; but, as I said, let it be mulled ale, for I declare\nale is never too muddy for them, and they will drink it, no matter what\nstuff you put in it.\"\n\n\"But how shall we convey it to him when it is made? That is our next\ndifficulty, Jeannette.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'll convey it, never fear for me, lady. The little soft is fool\nenough to think I admire him. It will be such fun! I shall almost burst\nwith laughter when he gulps it down. I'll take him a tit-bit also, for\nhis supper. The simpleton will be overjoyed, and I expect he'll begin\nmaundering something about love,\" and Jeannette clapped her hands and\nskipped about gleefully. This was a matter that just jumped with her\nmadcap humour, and her high spirits could any time carry her through a\nfrolic of this sort; but when fairly cornered, her nerves were subject\nto complete collapse, and she became as helpless as any bird before the\nswoop of a hawk, unable to do anything but cower and helplessly flutter.\n\n\"Really, Jeannette, I think you treat this poor fellow rather too\nbadly,\" said Alice.\n\n\"It's only a joke, my lady. I like to tease him, he amuses me so!\"\n\n\"Well, get him some supper, then, and I will make him some mulled ale.\nFor this once, at least, we must ignore our consciences; but indeed, I\nalmost think the end will justify the means, for this worthy Saxon\ndeserves some better fate than the one awaiting him, and I care not if I\npermit the claims of humanity and of chivalry to triumph, even though it\nbe at the expense of my own people, of whose cruelty and greed I am\nheartily ashamed.\"\n\nThe evening hours were advancing rapidly towards the twelfth. Much of\nthe clamour of the early hours of the night was effectually hushed in\nthe drunken slumbers of both officers and men, and at the dread hour the\nattempt at rescue was to be made; so Jeannette, fortifying herself for\nher humorous but somewhat daring feat, tripped boldly along the\ncorridors, torch in hand, bearing the repast prepared for her would-be\nlover.\n\n\"There, you false man, that is a great deal too good for you!\" she said,\naccosting Paul Lazaire, who was mounting guard over the cell in which\nOswald was confined, and who, in great trepidation and fear, shrank\nbefore the ghostly advent of an unknown and muffled visitant at the\ndread hour of night.\n\n\"Oh! goodness me, my pretty Jeannette, is it you? I was quite startled.\nI thought it was a ghost, and I declare it's an angel.\"\n\n\"You thought it was that ugly Saxon wench I caught you kissing, you\nfalse man! That is what you thought.\"\n\n\"Tush, tush, Jeannette! Whenever will you forget that? You know I love\nonly you. Give me a kiss, and let us be friends. I vow I will never look\nat another Saxon wench as long as I live.\"\n\n\"Now, get off with you, if you please. You make a mistake if you think I\nam going to be kissed by you, when you are so fond of kissing any dirty\nhussy you meet.\"\n\n\"Now, don't, my fiery little wife! This is too bad--too bad for\nanything, Jeannette! You never have done with it.\"\n\n\"Don't you imagine you will have me for a wife unless you mend your\nmanners very greatly. You shall have that dirty hussy of a Saxon for a\nwife, and I will have Jaques Leroux. He is a smarter man than you are,\nany day; and if I but put up my finger to him, he will run after me.\"\n\n\"You don't mean it, Jeannette! Now, don't be cruel! You might just as\nwell say that you love me, for I know you do at heart, and you are only\nteasing me, as usual. I know you wouldn't have brought me this nice\nsupper if you hadn't thought something of me. Now, isn't it so,\nJeannette? Just give me a kiss, and say you forgive me for that Saxon\nwench, and then I shall be happy;\" and Paul endeavoured gallantly to\nplant a kiss on Jeannette's rosy cheek.\n\n\"Here, get off, will you, or else I'll scratch you!\" said Jeannette,\nviolently pushing Paul away. \"I'm not going to go shares with a dirty\nSaxon. Mark that, Paul Lazaire! You will have to mend your manners\nbefore you kiss me, I can tell you that much!\"\n\n\"There you go again, Jeannette. You never will forget about that Saxon\nwench, I do believe; and you know it was only a joke.\"\n\n\"Now, just get your supper, and give up fooling, will you? or your ale\nwill be cold, and I shall go away and leave you,\" was the very\nirresponsive reply of the dame.\n\nPaul was really madly in love with Jeannette, but still he had to spare\na considerable amount of affection for the steaming tankard of mulled\nale and the victuals, which she had brought him. So he raised the\ntankard to his lips, and gave a hearty drink.\n\n\"Bravo, Jeannette!\" said he, smacking his lips. \"What a lovely brew it\nis to be sure! How it warms the pit of my stomach! You'll make me a\nhappy man some day, I do declare, Jeannette.\"\n\n\"Now you are fooling again!\" said Jeannette, giggling most immoderately\nat the gusto with which, unsuspectingly, he swallowed the potion. \"Now,\nget your supper. I cannot spend the whole night with you here. So be\nquick, or I shall be missed.\"\n\nThus exhorted, Paul fell on the victuals with right good will, and\ndrained to the dregs the tankard of spiced ale, all the while\ninterspersing his feeding by casting pitiful glances at Jeannette, which\nmade that mercurial young damsel giggle more immoderately still.\n\n\"Don't go, Jeannette,\" said he beseechingly, as Jeannette was about to\nturn away. \"It is a long time to the next watch, and you can't imagine\nhow creepy I feel in this passage, with that fearful Saxon inside\nclanking his irons, and tearing about, and not a soul within call if he\nshould break loose.\"\n\n\"Is that the cell in which he is confined?\"\n\n\"Yes, but he is very quiet just now. Perhaps he hears us talking; but I\ncan hear him tugging at the chains sometimes as though he would tear the\nplace down. He makes me feel as if next moment he'd burst open the door,\nand murder me. He is a most desperate fellow. You should have seen how\nhe fought on that wall; and there was another one who escaped, a fearful\nman, too, at his weapons.\"\n\n\"Oh, I saw them, and I noticed how frightened you all were into the\nbargain. But are those the keys you have at your girdle?\"\n\n\"Yes; this is the one for the door, and this other one for the\nmanacles,\" said Paul, holding up a pair of rusty keys to Jeannette's\nview. \"I wish the watch was over,\" he added, shuddering, \"or I had _un\nbon camarade_.\"\n\n\"Eh, bien! bon nuit, mon bonhomme,\" said Jeannette, gathering up the\nempty tankard, and flitting along the lonesome corridors back again to\nher mistress, who was waiting with feverish impatience for her return.\n\n\"What news have you, Jeannette? Did all go well?\"\n\n\"Beautiful, my lady. He drank the ale, and praised it finely. I knew he\nwould do that, for those horrid men always praise ale. But the wonder to\nme is that the beastly stuff did not turn his stomach.\"\n\n\"Did you see the cell, then, in which the Saxon is confined?\"\n\n\"Yes; and Paul showed me which is the key for the door, and which is for\nthe manacles; for he is chained fast to the wall, it appears.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear, I wish it was over, for I tremble from head to foot. It is a\ndesperate enterprise, and would be both rash and indelicate if the\nmercifulness of it did not demand the sacrifice. Dost thou fear to\nventure it, Jeannette?\"\n\n\"Not a bit, my lady; I like to outwit those men folk, for they count us\nnothing, and it will be such a joke to see their blank looks in the\nmorning! And won't the Baron rage and swear at the men-at-arms?\"\n\n\"Oh, do hush, you foolish child, it is far too serious to jest about. I\nwish your courage and lightheartedness may not fail you before our task\nis accomplished! If a merciful Heaven do not help us, I fear me we shall\nnever accomplish our purpose.\"\n\n\"Let us make vow to Notre Dame, before we venture, that we will repeat\nfifty Aves and Credos if she help us, and give twenty silver pennies to\nthe holy Father at the next gathering of the Romescot.\"[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: Peter's pence.]\n\n\"Well, we will see about that; but we had better get ready, for the\ndraught will soon take effect upon this sweetheart of yours.\"\n\n\"Stuff, my lady! He is a little finikin fellow, and simple to boot. I do\nbut tease him. He amuses me so much I really cannot help joking him.\"\n\nEre long these two frail women stole along the lonesome passages, having\nfortified themselves as best they could for their task. Alice was\ndreadfully nervous, but determined of purpose. Jeannette, however, was\njaunty enough at starting, and had it been the congenial task of\ntricking poor Paul Lazaire, her volatile temperament would have carried\nher through; but she soon began to manifest, by many hysterical starts,\nthat this dramatic adventure, which might become a tragedy, was telling\npowerfully upon her nerves.\n\nThey soon reached the place, however, where, as they anticipated, Paul\nwas found in a state of blissful insensibility to either friend or foe.\nHe had speedily felt the soothing effect of the drug, and had sat down\nwith his back to the wall. But he had quickly slidden from that position\nand was now lying flat along, in a sound sleep, and breathing heavily.\n\n\"Oh, dear!\" almost shrieked Jeannette, as she witnessed Paul's\ninsensible condition. \"He's not dead, is he, my lady?\"\n\n\"No, he is not, you simpleton! Now let us be quick, Jeannette! Reach the\nkeys from his girdle. May Heaven help us!\" said Alice, devoutly crossing\nherself. But she dared not give utterance to her fears in presence of\nher maid, whose condition was plainly visible to her.\n\nJeannette snatched the keys from Paul's girdle, and Alice thrust the\nclumsy piece of metal into the door; but she had to apply her utmost\nstrength ere the rusty bolt shot back with a loud snap. Then, applying\nher strength to the heavy oaken door, it recoiled slowly on its rusty\nhinges, with a horrid, creaking noise which grated fearfully on the\nexcited nerves of the pair. Immediately, as the torch's flickering light\nfell dimly across the cell, their eyes fell upon the captive chief, who\nwas chained to the wall by heavy chains, but nevertheless stood erect,\nwith distended nostrils, clenched hands, and threatening attitude. He\nwas evidently expecting a midnight assassin, and though manacled and\nbound hand and foot, he would fight it out to the end. Alice started\nback, trembling violently, as she beheld the fierce attitude of Oswald;\nand the last spark of Jeannette's courage disappeared, for, with a\nshriek, she clutched the arm of her mistress and tried to drag her away.\n\n\"Hush, Jeannette! Be still,\" cried Alice beseechingly; \"we shall be\ndiscovered if you do not be quiet.\"\n\nThe scene was a graphic one truly. The two timid women stood on the\nthreshold of the cell, cowed by the savage attitude of the captive, and\nafraid to advance a step, though bent on doing a deed of mercy. Oswald\nalso was strangely bewildered at the sight of such gentle visitors; for,\nas the torch was held aloft, the uncertain light revealed to him the\nforms of two timid and graceful women, and one of them, at least,\nbearing evidence of gentle blood and gentle manners. His muscles relaxed\nand his manacled hands fell to his side, and the heavy irons clanked\nhorribly in the vaulted cell. This still further terrified the visitors,\nand Jeannette, whose nerves were at their utmost tension, with a shriek\ninvoluntarily bounded over the sleeping form of Paul Lazaire, and fled\nlike the wind along the corridors, leaving her mistress alone with the\ncaptive chieftain. The awful silence was broken by Oswald, who said, \"Be\nnot afraid, gentle lady. I was expecting some red-handed murderer and\nthe cold steel; but methinks so fair a messenger should bear a message\nof mercy.\"\n\n\"We have at least a merciful intent, Saxon. We saw your brave defence of\nthe castle, and we would fain set you free if we can, for we know the\nbrutal designs of some of our people, and we would save our own people\nfrom dishonour, and you from a cruel death.\"\n\n\"Ah! then pity still exists in the breast of woman! I thought the world\nwas emptied of such things.\"\n\n\"This can never be, sir knight, whilst honour and chivalry inspire the\ndeeds of knights and warriors; for such can never fail to inspire the\nsympathies of us weak women.\"\n\n\"Will you dare, then, fair lady, to carry out your beneficent purpose,\nand give me my liberty again, enemy though I be to thy people?\"\n\n\"I have counted all costs, sir knight; and I dare, if so be that my\nwoman's strength can effect it.\"\n\n\"Here is my right hand, then. Ten thousand blessings on your woman's\nheart if you can set it free once more!\"\n\nAs he spoke he stretched out his right arm, loaded with the heavy and\nrusty fetters.\n\nAlice boldly advanced and thrust the key into the lock, but her utmost\nstrength was insufficient to force back the catch, whilst Oswald's\nfetters prevented him from reaching one hand with the other. Alice\nunloosed from her shoulders a collarette of rich lace, and wrapped it\nround the rusty key, the angles of which hurt her hand. Then, applying\nagain her utmost strength, happily she succeeded in forcing back the\nstubborn bolt, and thus liberating Oswald's right hand.\n\n[Illustration: ALICE DE MONTFORT SETS FREE THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.]\n\n\"Thank Heaven for a limb at liberty! My good right hand, too,\" said he,\nstretching it to its utmost length for very joy. \"Give me the key, now,\nfair lady, for I can myself undo the rest.\" Soon, one by one, the\nfetters were stripped off from his cramped and lacerated limbs, and he\nbounded from them free. Falling on his knees before Alice, he seized her\nhand and pressed it to his lips, exclaiming, \"Tell me the name of my\nbenefactress, lady, for it shall be enshrined in my memory for ever.\"\n\n\"I am Alice de Montfort, and that was my maid,\" said Alice timidly, and\nblushing crimson.\n\n\"Alice de Montfort!\" said Oswald, starting to his feet as one bewildered\nat the avowal. Then, seizing the other trembling hand, he passionately\nexclaimed, \"Nay, never blush, lady! So noble a name, so fair a form, and\nso generous a deed are worthily associated.\"\n\n\"Alas! I fear me, sir knight, some men, if they knew that I thus acted\nfalsely to my father and to my people, would despise me; but I have\nlearnt to despise the opinions of men, when the cause of humanity and of\nchivalry claims my feeble help. We noticed your brave defence of your\nhome, and the evil fortune which befel you; and we two weak women were\novertaken with pity, which is our woman's weakness. Thus we have\nventured this deed. I would you should accept it as some atonement for\nthe violence and greed of my people. But tarry not, sir knight, I\nbeseech you, lest this act be marred ere it be accomplished.\"\n\n\"How can I express my gratitude to you, gentle lady, for adventuring so\nmuch in order that you might give me my life! But I would that the curse\nof Heaven may be upon me as an ingrate, if I forget, even for an hour,\nthe debt I owe to you, and, if opportunity serve, I return not with\ninterest to thee and thine this act of mercy done to me in my extremity.\nBut the time is urgent, as you say. So adieu, lady.\"\n\n\"Stay, sir knight; there is one other point--how will you make good your\nescape? Had you not better go with us to our women's quarters? Then we\nmay devise with greater leisure some further means to ensure your\nescape.\"\n\n\"If you will but lend me your cloak, lady, to disguise my form, I know\nthis castle's resources, and I shall not fail to make my escape. As a\ntoken of this, I will leave the cloak at the foot of the stair leading\nto the tower. Adieu, lady! We shall meet again under happier auspices.\"\n\nSo saying, he bounded from the dungeon and disappeared in the darkness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nBARON VIGNEAU BAULKED OF HIS REVENGE.\n\n    \"Midnight brought on the dusky hour,\n    Friendliest to sleep and silence.\"\n\n    Milton.\n\n\nThe pall of darkness is spread over the face of Nature, and the bold\noutlines of the mountains are shrouded in its embrace. Under cover of\nthe darkness, a cordon of vigilant and daring sentinels are closing in\nupon the castle and its carousing inmates. One stealthy figure glides\npeeringly from tree to tree amongst the clump of towering chestnuts,\nuntil he reaches one near the wall, when, throwing his legs around it,\nand catching hold of the tough and sinewy shoots in the bole, he mounts\naloft, and perches daringly amid the branches of the tree, watching the\nremnant of the Normans who still are able to keep up the orgie. But most\nof them are now fast in the arms of a sodden sleep.\n\nAnother figure, on hands and knees, with snake-like motion has left the\nthicket of laurel, hazels, and flowering currants at the foot of the\n<DW72> in front, and wriggles his way up the rising ground on which the\ncastle is built, until he comes daringly close to the wall; whilst the\nshort, sharp scream of the night-owl, issuing from first one point and\nthen another, tells that concerted action is afoot. The secret of it is,\nthat Wulfhere has rallied a band of the hardiest Saxons, if needs be, to\ndare a desperate deed of rescue on behalf of their captive chieftain.\nMany a fierce Saxon, with naked sword and eagerly listening ear, is\nlurking around, ready for any deed that may be required of him.\n\nWulfhere and a trusty comrade are standing together at the foot of a\ngigantic oak in an adjoining wood. The capacious trunk tells that for\nmany centuries it has looked down upon its contemporaries. The decayed\nand verdureless branches, clustered around its centre, tell also that\nthe process of decay has been progressing for a longer span of time than\nis permitted in the life of mortals. If we ascend it for a few yards we\nshall find that, just where its stout limbs divide themselves from the\nbole, a yawning cavern has taken the place of its once stout heart, into\nwhich a man would find no difficulty in descending.\n\n\"I think there are none of the enemy on the alert, and we may venture,\"\nsaid Wulfhere to his companion. So saying, he mounted the tree and\ndisappeared in the recess, and, sliding down until he reached the\nground, he quietly removed some leaves and other _debris_; then there\nwas visible a trap-door, which he raised, revealing a flight of steps,\nwhich he descended, followed by his companion. Drawing forth a horn\nlantern, with tinder-box and flint, he struck a light, and the pair\nbegan slowly marching along in the direction of the castle. But they had\nnot proceeded very far before they were saluted by a familiar voice.\n\n\"What ho, Wulfhere! what are you venturing?\"\n\nAfter the first violent consternation, Wulfhere found his tongue.\n\n\"We essayed a rescue, my lord, but you have saved us the trouble. How is\nthis? We scarcely hoped to find you alive at this time, much less a free\nman.\"\n\n\"A miracle, Wulfhere! I account it a miracle, for I am as one given back\nfrom the dead. But more anon. Let us haste for the present, for I\ntremble lest it should turn out that it is but a dream, and that there\nwill follow a horrid awakening.\"\n\nThe trio quickly retraced their steps, and stood together in the wood,\nWulfhere uttering a series of peculiar calls well known to every Saxon\ncomprising the band of rescuers. Quickly, one by one, they rallied to\nthe spot; and when they saw their chieftain safe and well their\ndemonstrations of joy were most exuberant--almost frantic--many of them\ndancing round him like satyrs in the dim light of the wood, each and all\nmost anxiously demanding by what strange chance he had obtained his\nliberty. As they hastily retreated to the hills, Oswald briefly related\nto his followers the circumstances of his release by two Norman women,\nwho at dead of night had boldly opened the prison door and unfettered\nhim--Oswald carefully laying upon his followers the injunction that no\nharm should be done to the Norman women, and that special regard should\nbe paid to the Norman lady, daughter of Count de Montfort. He also\nenjoined upon them the strictest secrecy as to the agents who had taken\npart in it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nEarly on the morrow there was a grand muster of the Norman men-at-arms\nin the castle yard. Many of them who had taken part in the assault on\nthe castle were not followers of the Count, but mercenaries, who were\neager for further advance in quest of plunder. To this multitude who had\nfought for him, and stayed their hand from plunder and burning, at his\nrequest, a liberal donative of gold was distributed; and presently\nthree-fourths of the soldiery shouldered arms and marched northwards to\nswell the ranks of the desolating host which carried fire and sword\nthroughout the north of England, and to the borders of Scotland.\nBlood-curdling were the dreadful scenes of slaughter that were enacted;\nnot less than two hundred thousand Saxons perishing in that ruthless\nmassacre.\n\nAlice and Jeannette were astir betimes in the morning also; in fact,\nAlice had not closed her eyes during that night of suspense. With\nconsiderable daring, in the morning she and Jeannette passed from room\nto room, from basement to roof, in search of evidence that the Saxon had\nmade good his escape, starting and trembling violently as the wild\nshouts of the men fell upon their ears, lest it should be but the herald\nof Oswald's recapture.\n\n\"There remains but the tower, Jeannette,\" said Alice, after they had\nexplored, as best they could, the various rooms of the castle. So\ntowards the dismal winding stair of the tower they hastened, and there\nin the semi-darkness they came across the cloak which Alice had lent the\nfugitive. Then Alice remembered the parting words of the Saxon,--that\n'she would find the cloak at the bottom of the stair.' Slowly they\nscrambled up these stairs, often-times having literally to grope their\nway. When they reached the top they peered anxiously around, but no\ntrace of Oswald was to be seen. Looking over the battlements, they\nbeheld Vigneau, Pierre, and a number of men making preparation for what\nthey considered a morning's sport. Some had fenced round a small\nenclosure, and others had kindled a large fire, in which were heating\npincers and long iron spikes wherewith they purposed torturing the Saxon\nchieftain. Vigneau, casting a glance up at the castle, perceived Alice\nand Jeannette peering over the battlements and watching the fiendish\npreparations.\n\n\"Pierre,\" said Vigneau, \"do you see _la grande dame_ watching us? We\nshall find her sport soon the mawkish damsel will sicken at, I warrant.\nI would like to tie her to the spot and make her look on whether she\nwill or no.\"\n\n\"You will win no gracious smiles by this work, I doubt, my lord; it\nwould have been better done farther away,\" said Pierre.\n\n\"I neither care for her smiles nor her tears. I have got the hook in her\ngills and I'll land her in my own fashion, and she may struggle and\nflounder as she will. I can bring her ladyship or her precious sire to\ntheir knees as I like. You shall see presently. But come along, bring\nhalf a dozen of your men with you; we'll have Samson up now.\"\n\nSo away they hastened to the cells to fetch their prisoner.\n\n\"Jeannette,\" said Alice, \"I am ready to faint! Do you think the Saxon\nhas escaped? I fear he could never scale that horrid wall; and if he be\nbut hiding on the roof or in the cells he will be surely caught.\"\n\n\"If I could push these huge stones upon the Baron's head I would do it\nfreely,\" said Jeannette.\n\nJust at that moment a wild shout came pealing up the stair.\n\n\"Oh, Jeannette,\" said Alice, \"let me sit down! They have found him, I\nfear! This is sickening!\"\n\nJust at that moment a soldier was seen to dash from the door of the\ncastle and fly across the enclosure and through the gate. This was the\nsentinel who had taken Paul Lazaire's place; and who, as soon as he\nfound the prisoner gone had himself fled for life and was seen no more.\n\nSpeedily a hue and cry was raised. The castle was searched within and\nwithout with the utmost minuteness. Vigneau's violence and rage were\nfearful, and his demeanour that of a wild beast baulked of his prey.\n\n     It is needless to say that I was well-nigh overjoyed when\n     Badger brought me the wonderful news of Oswald's deliverance. I\n     gave God praise, for truly it was little less than a miracle.\n     Badger, by some means or other, seemed to be constantly in\n     possession of all information as regarded the movements of the\n     Normans as well as the Saxons. Truly, he seemed ever on the\n     alert. By night he was constantly in conference with the\n     outlaws. Marvellously, also, he gained the goodwill of the\n     Normans, and he became a repository of all their secrets.\n     Unfortunately for us, Vigneau and his men quartered themselves\n     at the abbey; and, fearful for Ethel's safety, I made Badger\n     the bearer of the following letter to Oswald, who had, I was\n     pleased to hear, found a retreat which promised some prospect\n     of immunity from molestation; and, as I said, I had become most\n     nervously anxious for the welfare of Ethel now that Vigneau had\n     taken up his abode so near to her retreat.\n\n     \"To the most noble and valiant Ealdorman Oswald,\n     greeting.--Having been assured by yourself that you purpose\n     devoting your great wisdom and undoubted valour to the most\n     worthy cause of protecting and succouring your unfortunate and\n     distressed countrymen, in these most perilous times, I would\n     fain bring to your notice that most evil times have befallen\n     the house of your late neighbour, the Thane Beowulf, in that\n     his lands, like your own, have become forfeit. But, what is\n     even more distressing, he, along with his son, has been slain\n     whilst endeavouring to prevent the spoliation of their\n     possessions by the Normans. His lovely and accomplished\n     daughter Ethel had fled to these cloisters for safety; but\n     inasmuch as this most holy sanctuary is involved in the general\n     ruin, being seized by violent hands, and remains at this\n     present in possession and under the control of beings who are\n     little better than fiends--men who have no regard for sacred\n     things, and who in their cruelty and lust spare neither age nor\n     sex--violent hands have been laid upon Ethel, but happily she\n     hath been delivered out of their hands as a 'bird from the\n     fowler,' by the combined address and valour of the bearer of\n     this message. Unfortunately there is no place of safety for\n     her, for the remnant of her father's housecarles and fiefs are\n     a scattered band, and outlaws. She hath for the present,\n     however, found a temporary place of shelter in the dwelling of\n     one of her father's rangers, who hath a rude abode in 'Hooded\n     Crow's Gyll.' But this is at best a precarious refuge, for, as\n     soon as the Normans muster courage to explore the forest, she\n     will inevitably fall into their hands again. If thou canst\n     befriend this orphaned one, the God of the friendless and\n     distressed bless thee! If thou canst offer her a more secure\n     shelter, the bearer of this missive--whom doubtless thou wilt\n     know--may be safely trusted to guide thee to the herdsman's\n     hut. Most sorrowfully I salute thee.\n\n     \"Adhelm, Abbot,\n     \"Monastery of ----. [symbol: cross]\n\nThis epistle duly reached Oswald, who, as I surmised, lost no time in\nsetting about a rescue. Calling Wulfhere, three horses were quickly\nsaddled--one for Oswald, one for Wulfhere, and one for Badger, who was\nto act as guide.\n\n\"Lead the way,\" said the Earl; \"and keep by the hills as far as\npossible, for the Normans as yet have had no time to spare from their\neating, drinking, and plundering, to explore the hill country, and, I\ndoubt not, we shall go unmolested.\"\n\nWith these directions, the three horsemen started off, keeping to the\nhills, where their vision could sweep the valleys and lowlands with so\nmuch accuracy that it would have been impossible for an enemy to come at\nany time within a couple of miles of steep climbing without being\nperceived. A little more than an hour's ride brought them to the point\nfrom whence they must strike the forest and lowlands. They paused for a\nminute or two, calmly surveying the hillsides, and minutely scrutinising\nevery object which had any indefiniteness or uncertainty about it. But\nthe curlews swept the long circle of the hills, uttering their plaintive\ncries, and the hawks glided over the tops of the trees, or darted in and\nout amongst them to start their prey into the open, or, on poised wing,\nthey rested motionless in the air, scanning with keen vision the ground\nbeneath them, and ready to pounce like a flash upon any luckless mouse\nor tiny rabbit that had ventured on an excursion from its hole.\n\n\"The presence of man--or, at least, of men--is not here,\" said Oswald,\n\"or these shy denizens of the solitudes of Nature would betray it by\ntheir unrest. Lead on, Badger; we shall not be molested, I trust.\"\n\nSo Badger struck out for the lowlands at a rapid pace, presently\nplunging into the head of the wood which ran up the valley some\nhalf-mile beyond the unbroken forest. In the bottom of this valley or\ngorge, a water-course was speeding away from the hills, occasionally\nleaping over falls of several yards. But, amongst the unsolvable\nmysteries of Nature, trout in goodly numbers had penetrated beyond them,\nand in every pool or temporary resting-place of the waters, these\nenterprising denizens of the flood abounded. The three followed a rough\npath by this water-course for a considerable distance, until it merged\nin the well-nigh interminable forest.\n\nSuddenly Badger diverged from the path, and, dismounting, led his horse\nthrough the thicket, putting aside the branches as he passed. Presently\na rude dwelling became visible, with a little clearing around it. This\nwas the spot where the herdsman, or, more properly speaking, the ranger,\ndwelt. It was a rough and primitive sort of building, made of wood.\nStout oak limbs, deeply inserted into the ground, and from which the\nbark had been removed, formed the main supports, whilst the arched roof\nand interspaces of the sides were interlaced in most fantastic shapes by\nsmaller branches of the oak, all carefully peeled. Upon this framework\nof oaken branches the roof and sides were dexterously thatched by\nheather from the neighbouring moor, and over all a rude daubing of mud\nand lime mixed; the whole making a rude, but, nevertheless, a warm and\ndry abode. Around the entrance there was a few yards paved with smooth\nlimestone pebbles gathered from the neighbouring brook. Amid these were\ninterspersed most fantastically the knuckle-bones of deer, sheep,\nwolves, and other animals. Grotesque and whimsical all this seemed, but\nit jumped with the fancy of the architect, who was literally a child of\nthe forest. Badger, as he drew nigh, heard hasty scuffling of feet and\nbarricading of the door. But when he gave a knock all was as still as\ndeath in a moment.\n\n\"Hillo, within there!\" shouted Badger. \"There is nothing but good Saxons\nhere.\"\n\nThe ranger's wife recognised at once the voice of Badger, and undid the\ndoor; and the three entered, leaving their horses standing together.\nEthel, meanwhile, was listening within in great trepidation, but when\nshe discovered that their unexpected visitants were Saxon, she emerged\nfrom an inner room. As her eyes rested upon Oswald, who had removed his\nhelmet, the burning blushes mounted in a deep crimson glow to her face\nand neck, and she cast an anxiously nervous look at her disarranged\ntoilette.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Oswald, taking her hand and raising it to his lips, \"is this\nthe sweet little Ethel who used to watch us rough boys play at the\njoust, and fence with our broadswords?--whom we used to accompany\nthrough the Bruneswald on her hawking expeditions? Why, how you have\ngrown, too! To be sure, these terrible times have left no opportunities\nfor neighbourly amenities. Why, 'tis three years since I last set eyes\nupon you. Ah, I know 'tis very sad,\" said he, as he saw the tears start\ninto her eyes; \"but dry those eyes, timid one, we will endeavour to find\na covert where you may hide; and we will put about it a girdle of steel,\nand woe shall be to the Norman who obtrudes his hated presence near.\"\n\nBut these gentle words only seemed to open the floodgates still wider,\nand the frail frame of the fair girl quivered with emotion. Recently she\nhad passed through sufferings, privations, terrors innumerable; but as\nshe looked upon the mailed warrior before her, it seemed as though a\nvery tower of refuge had been found. The most casual observer would have\nbeen powerfully impressed by the striking contrast in these two human\nbeings--Ethel, with her fair complexion, deep blue eyes, and rich\ntresses of fair hair falling with unkempt gracefulness over her\nshoulders, being a picture of maidenly grace, and an ideal high-born\nSaxon maiden; whilst the Earl's tall, muscular frame, well-shapen head,\nand curly locks, seemed like a modern Hercules made for the times, and\nequipped by Nature to play a conspicuous part in a troublous\nepoch,--times, in which personal prowess, dauntless courage, and a\ncommanding presence were essential qualities in one who aspired to be a\nleader of men.\n\nWe can scarcely wonder that there should be a touch of more than wonted\ngentleness in the tone of his voice, as he spoke to this fair and\nsorrowing maiden.\n\n\"We heard of your misfortunes, fair one,\" said Oswald, \"and we have come\nto offer you such succour as a dispossessed Saxon can still offer. I\nfear me it will be but a rude shelter for so gentle a guest. It may be\nprecarious, and subject to alarms, too; but I warrant it shall have a\nmeasure of safety, if you will accept of it.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my lord. Alas! that is all that I have to offer for your\ngreat kindness. I will gladly accept your offer, and I will try not to\nbe altogether a burden to you.\"\n\n\"Now, my worthy dame,\" said Oswald, addressing the ranger's wife, \"you\nhave done a good deed in sheltering this lady.\"\n\n\"We have but done our duty. She is our lawful mistress. We have fed on\nher father's bounty, and enjoyed his protection, and the sorrow is to\nsee her brought to this pass.\"\n\n\"Where is thy husband?\"\n\n\"He is adown the Gyll on the watch.\"\n\n\"Canst thou call him?\"\n\n\"Presently, my lord, if you wish to see him.\"\n\n\"Yes, let us see his face. We may be able to befriend him, and he us.\"\n\nThe woman reached from the side of the dwelling a small whistle, made\nfrom a branch of the plaintain tree, and, going to the door, she blew a\nlow and peculiar note, then listened for a second; but there was no\nresponse. Then a little louder she blew the same note. Immediately there\ncame trembling through the wood a response.\n\n\"He will be here soon,\" said the woman, coming back to the dwelling.\n\nPresently, the ranger pressed through the bushes into the enclosure; in\none hand a dish of fine trout dangled on a string, and in the other hand\na pheasant. But there was no mark of surprise on Bretwul's countenance\nas he beheld his visitors.\n\n\"How now, friend. Thou art not alarmed, I see,\" said Oswald.\n\n\"No; I have one eye for the hills, and another for the dales, and I know\na Saxon any gait, and my old comrade Badger in any guise.\"\n\n\"So thou hast busied thyself in securing these dainties for thy\nmistress, I presume?\"\n\n\"Yes, I have sent one of my trusty shafts after this dainty bird, and I\nhave poked under a few stones in the brook for these trout. Here,\" said\nhe, throwing his quiver on the floor, \"are a score of cloth-yard shafts,\nand every one a trusty friend, and never fails. I have taken great pains\nin the rearing of them. I have tried them all at a mark, and I have all\ntheir peculiarities logged up in my brain-pan. I have taken the swerve\nout of them, as nearly as I can, by paring their heads, and twisting\ntheir tails; but they have all a mind of their own at the finish. But I\nknow their minds as well as they know themselves, and I can allow, to a\nshadow, what they require and I can shoot a Norman's eye out at\nfourscore paces with any of them. Look, also; all these heads have been\nmade by Sweyn, the Sheffield armourer; all of them forked ye see, and\nmake a dainty little slit between a Norman's ribs as they enter; but\ngramercy! getting them out, there's the rub! I have been watching for\nmany a day down the Gyll, for the Normans have been getting bold,\nransacking the forest in quest of Saxon refugees. A slice of luck, and a\ncrumb of comfort, has fallen to me this morning.\"\n\n\"Oh! Hast thou had some of them within reach of thy cloth-yard shafts,\nthen, this morning?\"\n\n\"Marry, that I have! and I have tickled one or two of them with a long\nstick; but they didn't laugh, mark you.\"\n\n\"Oh, then, we'll have thy story, Bretwul, for we are all anxious to hear\nhow they like messages from our woodsmen.\"\n\n\"Well, it came about thus. There is a little path from the valley leads\nup to our cot. 'Twas worn, before these dogs came, be assured, for we\nshall make no further tracks, yet awhile. As I was out this morning, on\nthe rough side of my cottage--that is, the side turned to the foe--and\non the look-out for them, three or four of these Normans had come across\nthe track, and, of course, they naturally thought there would be\nsomething at the end on't. Well, there was something in the middle that\nsatisfied them. No sooner did I see them coming, than I says to myself,\n'Come on, my bucks! I've got something warm for you, and you can have it\nfor nothing but love.' I planted myself in the bush not forty paces\naway, and I selected my choicest shaft. This is him,\" said he, pulling\none out of the quiver, still red with blood. \"I'd trust my life on this\nshaft, master, for he never fails. Well; on they came, and I gave him\nall the strength of my arm, and plump in the throat my arrow struck the\nforemost Norman, and he dropped in the path. Gramercy! His fellows\ndidn't even stop to say to him, 'Are you much hurt?' or even to inquire\nif there was any more of the same sort about; but they turned tail,\nmaster, if you believe me, and they ran--why, Badger here couldn't have\noverhauled them, and he's the nimblest fellow in these parts. Well, I\nsays to myself, 'I should not like you to go empty away, any of you, if\nI can help it.' So I lodged another of my shafts pretty securely, I\nwarrant, in the buttocks of the last one, and the fellow never halted\nfor a moment to inquire what it was, but he carried off my shaft. I\nsuppose they will be busy now inviting it to come out; but, depend upon\nit, it will hold its own as closely as any Norman could stick to a\nSaxon's goods. I've lost a good shaft over him, but it will tickle him\nfor many a day yet; and he'll want nobody to scratch the place, either.\nThere, marry! it's bad manners to stand prating before my betters, but a\nbit of news of this sort I like, either to hear or tell it.\"\n\n\"It is news good either to hear or tell,\" said Oswald, \"and we shall be\nglad to hear more of thy stories when thou hast any as good as this. But\nprithee, my good fellow, what is this bundle of shafts in the corner?\"\n\n\"These, master, are my youngsters, and they haven't quite finished their\nschooling. They are trusty shafts enough when you come to close\nquarters, but, like an unbroken colt, a trifle skittish when accurate\nwork has to be done. I'll make them steady goers by-and-bye. Wife\nhaven't you a drink of mead or a bite of anything for our guests? This\nis Oswald, our only chieftain in these parts. Don't you remember his\ncoming to the hall and playing joust and broadsword with Master Beowulf?\nA stout rogue he was, too, in those days. This is Wulfhere, Folkfree and\nSacless (lawful freeman); Badger, too, a merry fellow--like myself,\nthough, thrall and bondman, but as trusty a knave, I trow, as breathes.\"\n\n\"I like thy mettle, Bretwul, if such be thy name; but what dost thou\npurpose to do? Wilt thou stay here and take thy luck single-handed, or\ndost thou intend to make terms with the Normans, and accept such mercies\nas they may bestow?\"\n\n\"'Down with the Normans,' is the Saxon's good word now, and it has been\nmine from the first. The Bruneswald, and the company of the merry\noutlaws who range it, would suit me best; but hopping about in the\nwoods, like a squirrel from tree to tree, does not suit the womenfolk\nand my toddlers. But shift I must now; after to-day's business there\nwill be no staying here. I left yon fellow across the path as a sort of\nwarning to trespassers, but it won't act long, for the Normans will come\nagain in larger numbers, and the game will soon be up.\"\n\n\"Maybe thou hast heard that we have made a stand on the hills yonder?\"\n\n\"Ay, ay! that I have, master.\"\n\n\"If thou likest to bring thy wife to Tarnghyll, where we are sheltering\nfor the present, she and the little ones will be much safer, and thy\nwife Eadburgh will be useful to Lady Ethel. By-the-bye, thou hast a\nbrace of falcons and some fishing gear, I see; and I warrant there is a\nferret or two in that hutch outside. Every man to his craft, and marry,\nthine is a serviceable one just now. If thou wilt do thine office for\nthy mistress and the rest of us, why then bring thy tackle, and thou\nshalt ply thy craft for us, and be assured we shall not grumble if thou\nwaste an occasional shaft upon the buttocks of any bold or prying\nNorman. Hast thou any of thy comrades, servants of the worthy Thane\nBeowulf, hiding hereabouts who are willing to take a new master? If\nthere are, bring them along with thee, for any one sturdy enough to\ndespise the Norman yoke, and anxious to loose a shaft in defence of the\nSaxon's cause, will be heartily welcomed, for we purpose a venture in\nwhich a man who can shoot straight will do us good service.\"\n\n\"That will be blithe news, I trow, for there are a number of the\nhousecarles of the worthy Thane, my late master, who are casting about\nfor something more settled-like than the wolf's-head life of the forest.\nIn truth, there will be a merry gathering of stout outlaws at the\nhermit's cave on Crowfell at nightfall. I would be keen to carry your\nmessage to this trysting. At our last gathering the talk ran much on\nyour defence of the castle, and some of these are forest men and outlaws\nwho range the woods as far south as Sherwood. Anyway, I warrant me the\nnatives of these parts will hear the news with rare glee, for a dalesman\nlikes to keep in the shadow of his hills and fells. Stout men at a push\nyou'll find them, and ready to stand to their weapons with the best, and\nas slippery as eels when they must shift for themselves. Say the word,\nand I'll see it runs through these parts like a heather-fire in a stiff\nbreeze.\"\n\n\"Good! Bretwul, stir up these fellows, the more the merrier, for we are\nnot going to play hide-and-seek with these Normans, and the stouter the\nmustering the better we can deal with them.\"\n\nBretwul's wife set before the visitors a stout repast--spoils of the\nchase and the flood--for Bretwul was an adept at his vocation. The\nvisitors also were well supplied with hunger-sauce, and they did rare\njustice to it.\n\n\"Well, Badger,\" said Oswald, \"you seem to have taken such a liking to\nyour new friends that you could not bear parting with them on any terms,\nso we must leave you behind, and wish them joy of their friend.\"\n\n\"Gramercy, master, it is true! I am such a simple fellow that I can wag\na paw with these Normans in all meekness and humility; but I have a\nsnare or two set on my own account, and the game always finds its way\nfellward. Leave me alone, I'll wriggle through it somehow; and, by our\nLady, I've had no broken bones thus far.\"\n\nSo Oswald, Wulfhere, and Ethel sped them on their way--Ethel being\naccommodated with the spare horse.\n\n\"Come, Ethel, my girl, you must dry those eyes, for I shall take note\neach day, be assured, to see how the sunshine comes back again to your\ncountenance,\" said Oswald, pleasantly.\n\n\"I am afraid I shall prove to be a great burden, and very little of a\nhelp to you in your struggles.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; you will be just such a burden as the wild flowers, as little\ntending and as fragrant and beautiful as they.\"\n\nEthel blushed scarlet, and made haste to change the subject. \"Do you\nthink, my lord, this Norman Count is bent on exterminating all Saxons\nwho do not yield them vassals to him?\"\n\n\"Nay, Ethel girl, why this formality? I used to be Master Oswald; I pray\nyou let the honest Saxon name suffice. I cannot tell what De Montfort\nintends, but I fear he will let nothing slip that he can by any means\ngrasp; but I have determined I will know the best or the worst of his\nintentions. I shall open negotiations with him, and ascertain, if\npossible, if he purposes we shall dwell in peace and as freemen.\"\n\n\"But you will not venture so far as to put yourself in his power? I pray\nyou, trust them not, for they are insatiable in their cruelty,\" said\nEthel anxiously.\n\n\"No fear, Ethel, of my putting myself in his power. Having once tasted\nthe horrors of captivity I shall not risk its repetition rashly; but I\nhave a plan, and I shall speak with him face to face. I may tell you,\ndespite the many reasons we have for undying hatred and no compromise, I\nhave a deep-rooted conviction that for the present, at all events, a\ntruce on reasonable and honourable terms will be immeasurably best for\nthe Saxon cause.\"\n\n\"The land is undoubtedly prostrate, and time is urgently needed ere it\ncan rally once more,\" said Ethel.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nTHE SAXON CHIEFTAIN CONFRONTS DE MONTFORT.\n\n    \"Then crouch no more on suppliant knee,\n      But scorn with scorn outbrave;\n    A Briton even in love should be\n      A subject, not a slave.\"\n\n    Wordsworth.\n\n\nCount de Montfort and his daughter Alice were seated together one\nevening in what was known as the crimson parlour, a comfortable and\nsomewhat elegant room for the period. It was wainscoted in dark oak,\nwith carpets and hangings of richly-figured crimson cloth from the looms\nof Avignon. They were enjoying a temporary respite from the incessant\nbustle and turmoil which had been their daily accompaniment since the\nday they first occupied the Saxon chieftain's patrimony. Even here,\ntheir quiet was unpleasantly disturbed by the roystering merriment of\ntheir followers in the distant kitchen, who stoutly maintained their\nfreedom to carouse and drink pretty much as they listed. I take the\nliberty here to introduce the reader to a more intimate acquaintance\nwith the Count and his beautiful and accomplished daughter. The Count\nwas considerably past middle life, probably not less than fifty-five.\nHis sunburnt countenance, and the stern lines about his mouth and\nforehead, told eloquently the tale of a soldier's life. For the habits\nof a rough and unscrupulous life had lent a grim and unfeeling hardness\nto a visage which had strong evidence of force and character depicted in\nit. There was also palpable evidence of a spirit ill at ease and clouded\nwith doubt, which made him irritable sometimes to a degree positively\ncruel to friend or foe. His once jet-black locks were silvering rapidly;\nbut his tall form had lost none of its erectness, and his haughty and\nimperious demeanour proclaimed him a man used to ruling arbitrarily, and\nlittle accustomed to brooking opposition, or the frustrating of his\npurposes. His daughter, Lady Alice de Montfort, was extremely like him\nin general appearance. Tall and elegant in carriage, her profuse raven\ntresses were gathered in silken bands, and from thence fell over her\nshoulders well-nigh to her girdle. Her face was pale; her features\nregular, as though chiselled. A pair of lustrous dark eyes glowed from\nbetween darker lashes, proclaiming her southern extraction. She was\nindeed a model of queenly beauty. Like many of her countrywomen of\nexalted station, her youth had been spent in the seclusion of the\nconvent, where alone an education worthy of the name could be obtained.\nThis secluded life--despite her fiery extraction--had toned down her\ndisposition; whilst the culture and refinement had made her a typical\nexample of the romance and troubadour spirit of song, which we Saxons\nknew to be developed in the maidens of sunny France. For her, the rough\nlife of the Norman occupation, with its scenes of blood and cruelty, was\na daily horror.\n\n\"Alice,\" began the Count, \"I told you some time ago that I had affianced\nyou to Baron Vigneau. He has followed my fortunes, and lent the prowess\nof himself and his mercenaries in furthering my interests, in return for\nwhich he was to receive your hand in marriage; and I gave him my solemn\npromise to that effect. His recent conduct has not pleased me, and his\naddiction to the wine-cup has become inordinate. But I lay the fault of\nthis to the rough times we have had, and I doubt not when peaceful times\ncome again he will become a sober and a virtuous Norman Baron. Anyway, I\ngave him my promise, and he has fulfilled the obligation. He now presses\nfor the fulfilment of this promise. Much time has already been allowed\nyou to prepare, so I would have you bethink yourself when it can be\nredeemed. As you know, it rests solely with yourself as to when this\nevent shall be, and my pledges made good. I pray you despise him not,\nfor though he is a landless mercenary, he is brave, and has powerful\nfriends.\"\n\n\"Father, this marriage is most distasteful--I may say, most abhorrent to\nme. The Baron is a man I cannot possibly love; and if my fortune is what\nhe would have, let him take it and welcome--I care not if I am\npenniless, if I have my liberty. Nay, I would much rather take the veil\nif I have no other choice than to marry him.\"\n\n\"Alice, this cannot be; I cannot break my promise. Once for all let me\ntell you I dare not. This man has obtained a fatal advantage over me,\nand it is a question of life and death for me. Listen!\" said he, rising\nand pacing the room with quick nervous tread. \"Fool that I was, when\nthis last insurrection of the Saxons broke out I was deeply smarting\nunder the rebuffs I had received at the hands of my mortal enemies Odo\nand Fitz-Osborne, and the base ingratitude of William. I counted the\nforces of the rebels, and noted their wonderful successes; and foolishly\nimagining the Danes and Scots would stand firm, I thought that William's\ntime had come at last. Madman that I was! to think ought could thwart\nthe iron will and marvellous resource. But I had many things to be\nrevenged upon, and I was blinded by it. I thought, now is the time. But\nworst of all, in sheer madness and infatuation I entrusted\nletters--deadly compromising letters--to this Vigneau for the leaders of\nthe insurrection. These letters Vigneau never delivered, and he now\nholds them over my head, the villain! and threatens to divulge the whole\nthing to William. If he does this, I know well, with the enemies I have\nat court, that nothing will appease the self-willed tyrant but my head.\nThese letters contain such ample proof of my treasonous intentions that\nmy life literally hangs in the balance if I cannot gratify Vigneau. Fool\nand dolt that I was to place myself in the power of so unscrupulous a\nvillain!\n\n\"I have told you this much that you may think less hardly of me. But the\nthing is absolute and irrevocable. I can no longer put him off by my\nexcuses on your behalf, for he becomes clamorous and threatening. There\nis nothing further to gain, I perceive, by remonstrances and promises,\nso the sooner this marriage takes place the better; for I am hopelessly\ninvolved in the toils of this snake.\"\n\nA dead silence of some minutes followed this, and a sickening sensation\nalmost to fainting crept over Alice. How long the death-like stillness\nwould have lasted I know not, but just at that juncture, in silence\nprofound, the massive oaken door swung back unbidden, and a snatch of a\nBacchanalian chorus pealed along the corridors and burst unbidden on the\nears of father and daughter. But the rising temper of the Count at this\nill-timed jollity and carousing gave way on the instant to profound\nastonishment and alarm, as Oswald the Saxon, armed with shield and\nbuckler, with his drawn sword in his hand, strode into the room; whilst\nthe dim form of an armed accomplice was visible for a moment in the\ndarkness ere the door swung back to its place, shutting out the sounds\nof revelry and riot, and the three were alone together. The Count sprang\nto his feet, whipped out his sword, and savagely stood at bay, awaiting\nthe onslaught of the sturdy Saxon. Alice also sprang to her feet with a\nstartled cry, and a strange panic seized her. Had this Saxon, who owed\nhis life to her, sought this interview with murderous intent? His\nappearance betokened it most surely, and she began to upbraid herself\nmost keenly.\n\n\"Quiet you, lady,\" said Oswald, with a low obeisance, and in tones which\nbelied the warlike attitude and arms which he bore. \"I have none but\npeaceable intentions, gentle lady, though in these times we must be\nprepared for any eventualities. I hope you will let this excuse my\nweapons and my untimely visit.\"\n\n\"What doest thou here, Saxon? and how darest thou intrude thyself so\nrecklessly?\" said the Count.\n\n[Illustration: THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN CONFRONTS DE MONTFORT.]\n\n\"As to intrusion, noble sir, you will pardon me, but my father built\nthis castle, and I was born here, and inherited it from him; so I would\nfain point out, if you will allow me, that I am not the intruder. You\nhave usurped my lands, appropriated my home, and slain my vassals;\nwhilst I am homeless, landless, and an outlaw.\"\n\n\"Lucky, too, art thou, Saxon, to escape with thy life, and wondrous\nventuresome withal, in thrusting thy neck a second time into the\nhalter.\"\n\n\"I have not come to bandy threats, but it is not my neck that is in the\nhalter just now, and if thou wert not shielded by a protector more\npotent than thy armed minions thy life would soon be forfeit--mark that,\nNorman! and be a little more merciful.\"\n\n\"Thou liest, Saxon dog! I fear thee not, nor any Saxon boor in the\nland!\" said the Count, brandishing his sword, whilst Alice rushed\nfrantically between them.\n\n\"Excuse my hastiness, fair lady,\" said Oswald, \"and permit me to say\nthat I have not come to shed blood, but the reverse; I am come to\nsolicit a truce, an honourable truce, and to treat for a cessation of\nhostilities and hatred; and I would fain you should be umpire between us\nthis night, gentle lady.\"\n\n\"What truce dost thou expect, Saxon?\" said the Count. \"There can but be\none truce between the conqueror and a foe routed and beaten; and that\nis, that he should lay down his arms unconditionally and accept the\nclemency of the conqueror.\"\n\n\"That is a condition which we shall not accept. We shall maintain our\nliberty at all hazards, and the Norman had better beware of harassing\ndesperate men.\"\n\n\"If thy arrogance were equalled by thy power, Saxon, thou wouldst do\ngreat things. But be thou well assured that I will root every mother's\nson of you out of your holes in the mountains within a month, if there\nis not unconditional surrender. But if thou and thy vassals return, and\naccept these terms, ye shall be entitled to my protection as my vassals\nand villeins. For thyself, if thou subscribe the oath of fealty, I will\nassign to thee certain lands, which thou shalt atone for by such\nservices rendered to me as I please, as thy feudal lord.\"\n\n\"Excuse me, noble sir; but these are impossible terms. In the first\nplace, I am not going to submit to be a grovelling feudatory, wearing\nclumsy brogues and a vassal's collar, coming cringingly to thee for\npermission to make a journey or shoot a stag--to ask humbly if I may\nkeep a dog; catch a fish; or marry a wife! I am not going to hold the\nstirrup for beggarly Norman adventurers, and say, Your most humble\nservant, By your leave, puissant sir, Crave your pardon, my lord, and\nall the rest of servile rigmarole, being afraid to breathe the breath of\nheaven, or tread mother earth; or say that I am a man; content to be\nnumbered with thy cattle, or thy goods and chattels, and be spoken of as\nthe loutish Saxon clown. Never! Let that be understood once for all. No\ndrop of vassal's blood courses through my veins. No part of a vassal's\nspirit animates me. I have not looked upon the face of any man, Saxon or\nNorman, that I fear, and I will be vassal to no man. Leave me alone,\nwith the handful of Saxons who follow me. Thou hast my lands and my\nhome--take them as the spoils of war, but be content. There is land\nenough, and thou mayest leave us in peace. We will not come nigh thee,\nbut be content to till a little land for sustenance; and we may be of\nservice as thy allies. Probably many of the serfs will be willing to\nreturn to their lands and to vassalage; and all who are willing may do\nso freely.\"\n\n\"Thou hast come to dictate terms, not to supplicate them, Saxon. Dost\nthou think it probable I shall tolerate a petty Saxon chieftain holding\nsway close to my doors? or harbour on my lands a brood of villeins who\nwill render the service of fear to me and that of fealty to the Saxon\nnear, so that in any pinch they will treacherously fail me? Thou hast a\nlow estimate of my wisdom, truly. But listen once for all, Saxon; if\nthere be not immediate surrender I will hunt you from your holes in the\nhills, as I have already said, within a month, and few will escape\nme--mark that!\"\n\n\"Father,\" said Alice, \"you do this noble Saxon grievous wrong in\nrejecting so rudely his amicable overtures. You may surely mingle mercy\nwith your designs. I myself will be bond, these Saxons will reciprocate\nany acts of generosity done to them. Besides, consider this: you saw the\nforms of armed men at the door just now. They have stayed their hand\nwhen it was at the throat of their victims, and they may do so again.\"\n\n\"Tush! tush! you speak like a school-girl. These boorish Saxons will\ncount mercy as weakness; so no more of it.\"\n\n\"Many thanks, lady,\" interposed Oswald. \"Gentle means are strongest when\nwe deal with human beings, whether they be gentle or simple. But adieu!\nIf my mission fails, the responsibility rests not with me, for I have\nnow offered peace--a peace which is abject in its terms.\" So saying, he\nturned and struck the oaken door with the pommel of his sword, which on\nthe instant sprung open and as quickly-closed behind him, whilst the\nmassive bolt was shot from the outside.\n\nThe Count sprang to the door, and tried to force it open, but to no\npurpose. \"Jules! Jules!\" roared he. \"What ho there! Treachery!\" But the\nonly response he received to his frantic cries was the fragment of a\nrollicking song and chorus, trolled more lustily than musically by rough\nvoices in the distant kitchen, the substance of which ran something like\nthe following:--\n\n    \"Old Bacchus was a merry dog,\n      And kept good company;\n    He loved good wine and a jovial song,\n      So his days sped merrily.\n\n    _Chorus._--Ho, comrades all, we'll drink and sing,\n                 So pass the bowl along.\n               If a better cask the morrow bring,\n                 We'll greet it with a song.\"\n\n\"What ho there, you drunken brutes! What ho, Jules!\" shouted the Count,\nfrantic with rage. But again the response was in a similar strain:--\n\n    \"We're freemen all, but have our liege,\n      For William is our lord;\n    We've wine and ale and venison\n      To crown our festive board.\n\n    _Chorus._--Ho, comrades, all,\" etc.\n\n\"What ho there!\" roared the Count, more lustily than ever, and furiously\nbeating the door with an oaken footstool. But all in vain, the song ran\nits course oblivious of all beside, and with, if possible, an increase\nin its roystering loudness:--\n\n    \"No foemen can our arms withstand,\n      The Saxons are our scorn.\n    We'll drink and laugh, and sing at eve,\n      And chase them in the morn.\n\n    _Chorus._--Ho, comrades all,\" etc.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nOUTLAWS AND WOLFSHEADS.\n\n    \"To be forewarned is to be forearmed.\"\n\n    _Proverbial Saying._\n\n\nCount de Montfort, the born autocrat, it may be inferred, was not the\nman to permit any remnant of the conquered Saxons to assume an\nindependent authority, or to defy him in his exercise of unlimited\npower. Nor did he relish the fearless tone in which Oswald had addressed\nhim. Such an affront must not be tolerated for a moment; so he\ndetermined to organise an expedition which should explore the hills and\nroot out any incipient rebellion which might be afoot. It is needless to\nsay that the mysterious escape and reappearance of Oswald also caused\nincreased vigilance in guarding the castle to be resorted to.\n\nNow Badger had manifested a wonderful tact in ingratiating himself with\nthe rough Norman troopers. It was much more common to see him sallying\nforth cheek by jowl with some of these, fishing, hawking, or\nboar-hunting, than to see him companying with his Saxon comrades. But\nthere was method in it all, for he was always possessed of their plans\nand purposes; and when he communicated to me this determination of\ntheirs we made haste to apprise our countrymen of it. That night Badger\nquietly issued from the postern gate of the Abbey, leading his mountain\npony Shaggy, and followed by his faithful wolf-hound Grizzly. Every\nlight was extinguished. Not a sound fell on the stillness of the night\nair, saving the horrid braying of a stag in the distant wood, and the\nscreeching of owlets as they fluttered amid the branches of the trees in\nquest of prey. No sooner had they passed through the gate at the\nnorthern extremity of the Abbey's ground than Badger mounted Shaggy's\nback, and they steadily threaded their way through the forest, making as\nquickly as possible for the hill country. Steady riding for half an hour\nbrought them to the first spur of the mountain, when Badger threw\nhimself from the pony's back, and led the way at a brisk walk. Soon they\nreached the top of this lower promontory, when, again mounting Shaggy,\nthey dashed along, sending the rabbits by hundreds scurrying away to\ntheir holes. But Badger steadily forged ahead towards the huge\neminences, which seemed to rise out of utter darkness, and throw their\nblack and ominous outlines against the starlit sky. Half an hour's more\nriding and patient climbing, and he neared the top. Choosing as the\neasiest path a deflection between two peaks, he was proceeding at a\nrapid pace, when, of a sudden, two men on horseback came bearing down\nupon him like a whirlwind, and drew up in front of him with swords\ndrawn. \"Saxon or Norman?\" sang out one of them in a tone of inquiry.\n\n\"Saxon!\" shouted Badger. \"Down with the Normans!\"\n\nAs the well-known voice was heard, the swords were sheathed, and the two\nhorsemen greeted him with a loud laugh.\n\n\"Why, you are living yet, then, Badger!\" said one. \"We have been\ncalculating your chances; and we had come to the conclusion you would be\nkilled and eaten by this time. You would be worth money, Badger, for\nyour _skins_ alone, this cold weather.\"\n\n\"Better shed every extra skin, Badger, or you'll lose your own, I'm\nthinking,\" said the other.\n\n\"Yes, his skins are valuable, but his carcase is good for nothing.\nBadgers are just carrion, and nothing more.\"\n\n\"We are right glad to see you, however,\" said the pair. And indeed they\nseemed inclined to hug him in the exuberance of their delight.\n\n\"Well, and Shaggy's living too! What next, and next. These Normans are\nbecoming most merciful,\" again broke out the first one.\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" retorted the second one, \"that's right enough. But they\naren't human beings either of them, or they'd have been murdered before\nthis.\"\n\n\"What news, Badger? I declare he's gone in a trance. Have they burnt the\ncastle down? Are they murdering everybody?\"\n\n\"They'll have a mighty job to murder some of you,\" retorted Badger,\nfinding his tongue at last, \"unless they could fly. You take mighty good\ncare of your skins. And i' faith, you've only one to take care of. But I\nwager that will be whole at the finish, unless you should happen to\ntumble and break your neck with running away.\"\n\n\"Hold there!\" said the pair, bursting into a loud laugh at Badger's\nretort. \"When the time comes we shall be amongst the first at the\nNormans' throats.\"\n\n\"All in good time, my hearties. They are coming in the morning to\ndisturb your roosts, so there will be a chance for you; but come along,\nI can't stand here, I must see Oswald forthwith about this matter.\"\n\n\"This is our station for the night, Badger. This valley would almost\ncertainly be selected for a night attack, or day attack either, for the\nmatter of that. So we must watch until daybreak.\"\n\n\"Oh, come along, I know everything is perfectly quiet. Not a Norman\nastir, I will be bond for it. You will be useful, so come along.\"\n\n\"If you will take the responsibility, Badger.\"\n\n\"That I will readily, so come along.\"\n\nThen the pair turned their horses' heads round, and joined Badger in his\nerrand. As they sped across the moor they heard to the right of them a\nfierce baying; and presently some half-dozen wolves came bearing down\nupon them. The horses began to tremble in every limb, and show evidences\nof bolting. So the three dismounted, and stood at the horses' heads with\nGrizzly fiercely growling in front. This seemed to reassure the horses;\nbut as the wolves drew near they were evidently mistaken in their prey,\nfor they turned tail and fled. But Grizzly with a terrific growl dashed\nafter them, throwing himself on the haunches of the hindmost, and\nrolling him over. Then, seizing him by the throat, he would speedily\nhave made an end of him, if the horsemen had not come up and dispatched\nhim with their swords. The monster turned out to be a large gaunt dog\nwolf, who would have been an ugly customer for an unarmed man to meet\nwhen the pinch of hunger was upon him.\n\n\"I hope they've got the sheep, and cattle, and swine all trim and tight,\nor I'm feared they'll be missing some of them in the morning, with these\nbeasts prowling about,\" remarked one horseman.\n\n\"They're getting too plentiful to be at all pleasant. There's been\nlittle time for wolf-hunting since these Normans came; they are getting\nbold too, and are beginning to pack,\" remarked the second horseman.\n\n\"I wish they were the worst foes we had to deal with,\" said Badger; \"I\nshould be a happier man by a good deal. But these dastardly Normans, I\nfear me we shall never more shake them off. The villainous brood are\nswarming all over the land, and there will soon be never a patch of soil\nthat a Saxon can call his own. We shall all either have to be slaves or\nfeed on the wind ere long.\"\n\n\"Not me, Badger,\" said one. \"I have neither child nor chick, and a\nfreeman I'll be at all costs. The limestone caves and the greenwood\nshall make me shelter. As for feeding on air, I'll not want something\nmore substantial if any Norman this side Baldley Heights or Whernside\nFell has a sheep in the fold or an ox in the stall.\"\n\n\"Well, don't be downhearted, comrades,\" said Badger. \"When the wind\nshifts, the cloud lifts. It's a broad ford that can't be bridged. The\nstrongest bow soonest relaxes, and the spent arrow falls lightly. Our\ntime will come, for these Normans are not Viking rovers, but like fat\nliving, and that breeds laziness; and we shall be able to shake\nourselves down comfortably if we can't push them out of the bed.\"\n\nWhilst this conversation was proceeding the three were rapidly pressing\non, Badger having by this time put eight or ten miles between himself\nand the Norman foe. But in the vast distance before them there seemed to\nloom an unending stretch of moorland, vast and drear and dark. In the\npale moonlight the mists could be seen climbing the heights, or creeping\nlazily along the hollows, where damp and bogs abounded. Like huge\nrepositories of old-world histories these grim old hills\nseemed--dwarfing human nature into nothingness in their\npresence--\"everlasting hills,\" broad-based and firm; defying the storms\nof winter, and bathing their heads in the golden sunshine of summer;\nunmoved amid the changes, transformations, and fierce race struggles\nwhich were being fought out with relentless cruelty around their base;\nand offering a cold, unsympathetic shelter to fugitives flying to them\nfor safety.\n\n\"Keep to the left, Badger. We must keep on the outskirts of that vapour,\nor we shall be speedily up to the knees in a bog. We have not far to go.\nDo you see the tops of those fir-trees just peeping over those boulders?\nThat is our headquarters, and Oswald will be there.\"\n\nPresently the persons of two scouts could be seen moving amid the\nstones, and evidently reconnoitring the new-comers. A low, shrill\nwhistle is given by one of them, and is answered by Badger's friends; at\nwhich signal they drew near to interview the strangers. Then it was seen\nthat the tops of the fir trees were but the outermost ring of a dense\nwood, which lined the sides of a mammoth ravine, with a still lake of\nwater, or tarn, lying placidly in its hollow.\n\n\"Is Oswald here to-night?\" was the first inquiry.\n\n\"Yes. What news?\"\n\n\"All right so far; but there will be a lively time to-morrow. Badger,\nhere, has brought the news. Let him have speech with the Earl\nforthwith.\"\n\nSo the three dismounted, and began slowly to thread their way by a path,\nwinding and difficult, with branches hanging low, and brushwood closing\nup, so as to make progress impossible except in single file. By-and-bye\nthe bottom is reached, and before them there stands--what was totally\nconcealed from any one skirting the wood on the outside--a spacious\none-storied building near the head of the tarn. As they drew near, a\nfierce growling of a watch-dog was heard, and a challenge was addressed\nto them by some one hid from view by the dense brushwood. The answer\nbeing satisfactory the horses were tied to the trees, and the stranger\nled them by a winding path to the rear of the dwelling. A gentle tap\nbeing given to the door, a woman's voice challenges the visitors; but\nsoon the bolts are withdrawn, and the party enters what was evidently\nthe kitchen quarters.\n\n\"Has the Earl retired?\" said Bretwul to his wife.\n\n\"Yes, long ago. There has not been a sound in the house these two\nhours.\"\n\nAfter consulting together it was deemed a matter of sufficient\nimportance to summon Oswald, and to him Badger briefly related the news\nwhich had brought him.\n\nThen ensued a council of war, some advocating evasive tactics. But this\nbrought them face to face with the fact that the Normans were all aware\nthat they were hiding not far away, and they would be sure to persevere\nuntil they had unearthed them. So it was decided that a lesson in\nretaliation was necessary. Word was sent round at once for all cattle\nand non-fighters to keep especially close, also for the able-bodied men\nto meet the Earl at daylight at the cave on Deepdale Head.\n\nBadger's errand being now accomplished, he led his pony to the clear.\nThere mounting, and accompanied by Grizzly, the return journey commenced\nat a steady trot, which was never broken until the monastery was\nreached; and soon each one was at rest. He had thus given a timely\nwarning to the outlawed Saxons, from which it will be seen they were not\nslow to profit.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nSIGURD THE VIKING.\n\n                            \"Beware\n    Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,\n    Bear 't that the opposed may beware of thee.\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\nHanging-Brow Scaur, to which allusion has been made, is a huge peak\ntowering high above the Pennine Range, out of which it springs. A rude\ncultivation obtains to its very summit--such a cultivation as the bleak\nwinds and perpetual cold permit. Ere the advent of the Normans small\nmountain sheep with the single lamb at their heels had swarmed over its\nhoary sides, browsing amid its moistureless grass, nipping the fresh\nshoots during the summer time, and retreating to the lowlands at the\nadvent of winter. The husbandman who reared his humble dwelling beneath\nits shoulders had frequent need to beware the cold north wind, the\ndrifted snow, and not unfrequently the rushing avalanche. A sluggish,\nunromantic life was lived, and a precarious livelihood obtained by these\nhill-folk. The woods ran up the gorges to the foot of the loftiest peak.\nComing downwards they spread over the tops of the lower hills until,\nfrom gorge to gorge, the forest trees join hands, and an unbroken forest\nsweeps downwards, gathering density and luxuriousness until it sweeps\nover the valleys and up the sides of the hills beyond. Inexpressibly\nlovely especially are these wooded gorges in the summertime, when the\nfragrant breath of foliage and flower, of moss and lichen, is in the\nnostril, when the music of rushing cataract and waterfall is in the ear.\nBuoyant and bracing as an elixir of life is the cool air on these\nmountain-sides, when the hot breath of July is enervating the dwellers\nin the valley below. How delightful was my task at this season to carry\nthe consolations of my office to the lonely scattered folk on the hills!\nHow often have I felt my heart expand with lowly adoration when, from\nthe lofty summit of Hanging-brow, I have turned my gaze westward, and\nfar away in the distance my sweep of vision has taken in the coast-line\nof the Irish sea; whilst north, and east, and south there lay before me\na mighty vista of hill and dale and rugged peak! Then, how lovely the\nmagnificent stretch of forest too!--a rich unbroken canopy of green,\nmany-tinted and beautiful, the oak, the ash, the elm, and many others\nblending their various tints in the lowlands; whilst the fir, the pine,\nand the mountain-ash belted the forest in the higher reaches. The\nfleet-footed red-deer might be seen threading their way through the\ntangled undergrowth, or browsing amid the boulders in the clear, keeping\never a wary eye on the stealthy hunter. Sly Reynard here abounded, and\nmight be seen gliding warily along; and occasionally his fiercer cousin\nthe wolf prowled in fierce loneliness; whilst ceaselessly the woods rang\nwith the songs of her feathered denizens. Birds of rare plumage, too,\nand shy, such as the jay, the magpie, the thrush, the curlew, the\nwood-pigeon, with many specimens of the hawk family, were here; whilst\nthe golden eagle wheeled in airy flight round the crown, or moodily\nperched on some boulder, while his mate patiently hatched her young in\nthe fissures of the rocks, which, steep and high, lined the pathway of\nthe descending waters. But on this eventful day, as the sun reared its\nblood-red visage above the horizon, and kissed the mountain peak into a\nruddy twilight, two Saxon warriors, with broadswords by their sides and\nbattle-axes at their girdles, rounded the peak on the side which\noverlooked the castle and broad fertile acres which had been\ncomparatively cleared around it. Just the dimmest outlines of this scene\nwere visible; but as the sun mounted higher in the heavens, and his rays\nswept down from the hills into the lowest valleys, the whole landscape\nwas spread in beauty before them. The castle's noble proportions, here\nand there also the river's sinuous course, as it threaded in and out\namongst the trees, could be seen; whilst farther down the valley the\ngorgeous masonry of the Abbey peeped through the tops of the trees. With\nrapt vision, but with very sad hearts, the pair stood together, and\nwatched the marvellous transformation taking place before them.\n\n\"Was ever man called to yield so fair a possession before, Wulfhere?\"\nsaid the chieftain to his comrade.\n\n\"Well, truly it is a fair spot--finer, I think, than ever I thought it\nbefore. But it may be yours again, and I may get my little patrimony\nalso. So let us not despair.\"\n\n\"Well, we know not what may happen, but it seems very unlikely at\npresent. But come, we will go over the summit and consider our plan for\nthe stronghold. It will be some time yet ere our enemies are astir, I\ndare say. The scouts will bring us timely word.\"\n\nSo the pair climbed to the summit, and again considered their plans for\nthe fortress which had already been decided upon. Now the summit was a\nremarkably level plateau of five or six acres in extent. Round the outer\nedge of this plateau the ground sank away steep and suddenly for fifty\nyards, and it was only by the utmost exertions that a man could scramble\nup this last steep brow. The pair walked around the outer fringe\ntogether.\n\n\"Well,\" said Oswald, \"the hand of man could never have raised so\nimpregnable a rampart, and if gallantly manned it can never be carried\nby assault. There is but one danger: we may be starved out, for the\nprovisioning of it is most difficult with our scanty resources.\"\n\n\"It is as you say, my lord, matchless as a site for defence; for the\nprovisioning we must make strenuous efforts whilst the respite lasts;\nand if we can by any means give them this day such a taste of our\nquality as we ought to, they will never, unless greatly reinforced,\nattempt to force our stronghold.\"\n\n\"How bountiful, Wulfhere, nature has been in providing material for\nbuilding. Stones ready to our hand and inexhaustible in quantity, and\ntimber near to hand also.\"\n\nAt this juncture a horseman was seen coming over the mile of gently\nrising ground which stretched away from the forest.\n\n\"He bears a message,\" said Oswald; \"come, we will descend and meet him.\"\n\nBy the time they had scrambled to the bottom of the declivity the\nhorseman drew near, bringing the news that evidently something more than\nusual was afoot, by the number of men who were actively mustering at so\nearly an hour of the morning; this thing being quite an unusual one with\nthe Normans, who loved to carouse well into the night, and then sleep\noff the effects in the morning.\n\n\"Well we may be sure, if these besotted louts are moving thus early,\nthat there is something which has stirred the hornet's nest, so we will\nto our rendezvous.\" Then turning to the scout, he said, \"You know the\ncave at Deepdale Head?\"\n\n\"Aye, aye, I know it well!\"\n\n\"You will find us there from now: keep us well informed, you and your\ncomrades, so that we may make our dispositions.\"\n\nThen the two rapidly descended until they came to the head of a deep\ngorge, where was one of the many limestone caves to be found in the\ndistrict. It had an obscure and unpretentious entrance; but once well\nwithin it, it assumed lofty proportions, and ran away into many cavities\nroomy and weird. In past times no one would have dared to enter its\ngloomy precincts, as it was considered to be the abode of pixies,\nwitch-hags, and the powers of evil and darkness generally. But now these\nsuperstitious and ignorant people had dared to force the abode of evil\nspirits, rather than face the still more cruel and hated Norman.\n\nGathered around the entrance to this cave, and sitting on the hillside\nwere a number of men all armed, and evidently anticipating a conflict\nwith the enemy. They were a very miscellaneous company, some of them\nbeing fierce, ragged, wild and most unsavoury looking. At the head of\nsome ten or fifteen was one Sigurd, who had been a chieftain in\nLakesland, some fifty miles distant; but so desperate had been his\nconflict with the Normans, and so incessant his attacks and so daring in\ncharacter, that the Normans had found it necessary to put in motion\nnumerous forces to capture or slay this man and his desperate band. This\nthey had not been able to do; but so incessant had their harrying been,\nthat he had been driven from his native hills, with the result that this\nopportune moment he was found swelling the ranks of Oswald's men.\n\n\"Your coming is timely, Jarl,\" said Oswald. \"Men who can wield a sword,\nor fling a javelin, as I perceive you and these hardy warriors can, are\ndoubly welcome at this pinch.\"\n\n\"You are right, master, I am Viking every inch of me; these men are\nskalds every one also, so we need not tell you we like the ring of\nsteel. Give us a corner where there is room to fight and none to fly,\nfor we like it best.\"\n\nJust then another horseman hot with haste arrived with the tidings that\nthe Normans had divided themselves into two bands, and were ascending by\nthe water-courses. This was as Oswald had anticipated, for these\nwater-courses alone afforded what by compliment could be considered\ncontinuous paths, the forest being very dense and tangled, and a\nhopeless labyrinth. Now the Normans had made the somewhat common but,\nnevertheless, often fatal mistake, of underrating the enemy--or rather\nthe hunted fugitives they sought. It had never occurred to them for a\nmoment that the Saxons would present a bold front, and even dare an\nissue with them in force. They regarded the matter with a very light\nheart; although they had had a taste of Oswald's prowess, they believed\nthat he had but few to stand by him. They little thought as they\nscrambled jauntily along up the gorge with no precautions against an\nambush, or sudden assault, that they were forcing the hiding places of\ndesperate men, who, when hard driven were capable of desperate deeds.\n\nBy-and-by the scouts came in bringing definite information as to\nnumbers, and the routes the Normans were pursuing. They had, as already\nsaid, divided themselves into two parties; each one purposing to\nthoroughly scour one of the two paths along the water-courses, and\nintending to join together again when the hills should be reached.\n\nNow Sigurd, of whom more anon, had command of one company of the Saxon\nforces at the head of one of the ravines, and he was duly apprised of\nthe number of Normans he would have to contend with. Oswald with\nWulfhere as second in command, had charge of the other contingent, and\nthey slowly drew away down the ravine to a spot which had been selected\nby Oswald for the attack. The most numerous company of the Normans\nstruck the water-course which Oswald defended. The stream had there\nreached the valley where the mighty slit in the mountains down which it\nboisterously tumbled had broadened into a lovely dell, green as an\nemerald, and studded with flowers. Here the waters moved placidly along;\nbut the innumerable foam-caps which slowly sailed away on its bosom,\nbore ample evidence of its tumultuous descent from the mountains. Here\nthe Normans drew together and took council with regard to their further\nmovements. Eventually they took the left bank, and with long and\nattenuated ranks they commenced the ascent. All this was duly noted, and\nnimble feet carried each several movement speedily to the waiting\nSaxons.\n\nThe place selected by Oswald was where the limestone rock seemed to be\nshorn down with a perpendicular face to the bed of the stream. On the\nopposite side Wulfhere with a company of archers were ambushed. The\nsteep and lofty face of the rocks precluded any possibility of their\nbeing dislodged, whilst the position of the Norman foe across the ravine\nwould expose them mercilessly to their shafts. Oswald, with some dozen\nof the stoutest of his followers, barred the path at a point where it\ntook an upward trend, and a huge boulder blocked the vision of the\napproaching foe. He had also thrown forward a party of men up the steep\nand wooded ravine side, in advance of himself, who were completely\nobscured by the trees. These were, at the signal, to roll down the\nboulders and huge stones which abounded in the rough and scraggy\nhillside. The position and the method of attack were matchlessly\nplanned. If these desperate Saxons only stood each one unflinchingly to\nhis post, victory was certain, for the enemy was entrapped, and flight\nalone could save them.\n\n\"Wulfhere,\" said Oswald, \"you understand my plan, I think. The path on\nour side is so narrow and rough, the enemy will be obliged to move\npretty nearly in single file. Your men must hide in the brushwood until\nI give the signal; then pour into them volleys of arrows. If they should\nbe seized with panic, which assuredly they will, and beat a headlong\nretreat, then rush down, and meet them at the neck of the gorge and cut\noff their retreat. Remember, battle-axes are best for the thicket, and\nbroadswords for the open. Strike swiftly, strike hard, and victory is\ncertain.\"\n\nSo Wulfhere crossed the stream with his men, and clambered up the steep\nbank on the opposite side. Then abreast, but on each side the stream,\nthe two companies marched downwards. Presently they reached the spot\nselected for the attack. The disposition of the men was quickly\neffected. Then Wulfhere, keeping in the shelter of the trees, advanced\nto the brink of the precipice, where his position commanded a view of\nthe enemy, who were swarming forward. From thence he could easily hold\nconverse across the chasm with Oswald, who, with battle-axe firmly\ngrasped in his right hand, and bronze shield on his left, like a fierce\nlion was grimly waiting for his prey; behind him, a dozen stout yeomen,\nwho from their youth had been taught to wield either weapons of war or\nimplements of husbandry, men who had proved their valour against both\nNorman and Dane on many occasions. As the enemy drew near, their numbers\nand every movement was minutely described to Oswald, until they drew so\nnear that further parleying must cease. Then Wulfhere retired a few\nsteps into the thicket where his men were lurking, with arrows affixed,\nready for the fray. Meanwhile, the loud oaths, coarse laughter, and\nunchecked speech of the Normans told plainly the feelings of contempt\nthey entertained for the foe, and the little apprehension they had of\nthe onslaught awaiting them. Soon their scrambling footsteps drew quite\nclose, amid a death-like stillness in the ranks of the lurking foe. The\nSaxon war-cry, \"Ahoi!\" in thunderous tones burst from the lips of Oswald\nand his men. \"Ahoi!\" shouted Wulfhere's men. \"Ahoi!\" shouted the men\nambushed aloft. At that instant also, a dozen arrows with deadly aim\ncame hissing across the defile; down also came the boulders from aloft,\nleaping with gathering velocity into the ranks of the foe, whilst Oswald\ndashed from behind the boulder, and closed with the Norman leader. Their\ngleaming eyes met for a second; the Norman dealt a hurried forceless\nblow with his sword, which the Saxon received on his shield; then his\nponderous battle-axe came crashing down with irresistible force. The\nNorman interposed his shield, but the axe bore it down and, glancing\ntherefrom, came full upon his cranium, tearing away his helmet, and\nfelling him through the shrubs down into the water-course in the bottom\nof the glen. As the Normans witnessed the overthrow of their leader,\nthey were completely panic-stricken, and helplessly huddled together\nlike sheep, unable to strike a blow. The Saxon dominated the path in\nfront, cutting down the foremost with marvellous celerity; whilst on one\nflank the deadly arrows were being poured into them, and on the other\nflank the huge stones clashed through their ranks and decimated their\nnumbers. This hesitancy lasted but for a minute or two; very speedily\nthe discomfiture became an abject panic, and each one for himself made a\nrush for the valley. The Saxons followed them swiftly, relentlessly, and\ncut them off in numbers, as they impetuously rushed away towards the\nvalley and the castle. At a signal from Oswald, the Saxons ceased their\nharrying of the scattered and flying foe, and with swift footsteps they\nregained the head of the gorge and over the shoulder of the hills, to\nthe help of their comrades, who barred the advance of the second band of\nNormans.\n\nNow, whilst Oswald, with sagacity and conspicuous valour, had routed one\ncontingent of the Normans, the sturdy Viking Sigurd, with a dozen of his\nown reckless and desperate band, reinforced by less than a score of\nOswald's followers, pressed eagerly on to the fray with the other band\nof Normans. Sigurd possessed none of the qualities of generalship,\nbeyond a desperate and headlong valour, which always bore him into the\nthickest of the fight. His personal strength was prodigious, and no\nother man could wield his ponderous sword; in a rough and desperate\nstruggle where strength and valour were everything, and skill of little\navail, he had no equal in all Northumbria. His own followers, too, in\nthicket warfare, with their short but heavy swords in one hand, and a\nlong, gleaming knife or dagger in the other, were unrivalled in such an\nencounter as the one they challenged to-day. In Oswald's struggle, the\nplace and plan of attack had more to do with the complete demoralisation\nof the Normans, than the desperate valour with which it was carried out.\nIn Sigurd's case, it is true, the surprise, the thicket, and the rough\nand precipitous ground, were stout allies of his. But otherwise,\neverything depended on the vigour and valour of himself and men. Now\nPierre led this second company, and he was a sturdy rogue who had to be\nreckoned with when it came to a tussle with weapons; and any one who\ncounted on Pierre succumbing to panic or to fear would be grievously\nmistaken.\n\nOn, however, the Normans pressed, like their routed compatriots, never\ndreaming that the Saxons would be prepared for them; and, as a matter of\nfact, despising them, in any case. Right into the ambush they marched,\nrecklessly and unheeding. Instantly the Saxon war-cry rends the air, and\nthe wood is alive with men who frantically hurl themselves upon the\nastonished foe. The Normans stagger and reel at the fierce onset, and\nsome fly, coward-like, without striking a blow. But the presence of mind\nand personal bravery of Pierre stands them in good stead at this\njuncture. In stentorian tones he shouted, \"Notre Dame! Have at the dogs!\nFollow me!\" And whipping out his sword he headed the onset, laying about\nhim lustily and encouraging his men. But the burly Viking, Sigurd, finds\nnone to withstand him, and he makes sad havoc amongst the men-at-arms,\nwho quail and cower before him; whilst his followers, like mountain\ngoats, dart from behind trees and boulders, dealing stealthy and\neffective strokes, completely nonplussing the Normans with their\norganised methods. Pierre quickly perceives, however, that they number\nfive to one of the Saxons; and, if the burly Viking's arm can be\narrested for ten minutes, victory will come speedily. There is none but\nhe to do it. So boldly he dashes off on the instant and confronts the\ngiant. No mean foeman is Pierre in point of physical strength and\ncourage; but, when to that was added his superb skill in handling his\nweapon, he is not to be trifled with, even by so doughty a foe as\nSigurd.\n\n\"Ha, ha!\" roared the Viking chief, as he witnessed the temerity of this\nNorman in courting battle with him, and with reckless vigour he smites\nat Pierre. But the Norman plies shield and sword in defence, and\ndexterously shifts his ground to get an advantage. In swift succession\nthe thunder-strokes fall, and gleams of fire dart from Pierre's shield\nand sword as he parries the blows. Scathless, however, he endures the\nordeal.\n\n\"Bravo, Pierre!\" his comrades shouted. \"Hold _him_ in play a little\nwhile, and we will make short work of these churls.\"\n\nTruly everything points to this conclusion, for the Normans have\ngathered courage wonderfully, and by sheer numbers the Saxons are being\nrapidly overborne. At the instant, however, the Saxon battle-cry, Ahoi!\nAhoi! Ahoi! wakes the echoes in the hills, and Oswald and his men dash\ninto the flanks of the Normans. The effect is electrical.\nPanic-stricken, they fly before the onrush of the avenging Saxons. The\nretreat was a regular stampede; and Pierre and his men, along with the\nstragglers from the first company, rushed into the castle yard\nbreathless with haste, never having made attempt to rally.\n\nDe Montfort and Vigneau, who had received the former troop with rage and\ndismay, were little less than frantic at this double disaster and\nignoble defeat.\n\n\"Pierre, you scurvy villain, what is this? I wish thou hadst left thy\nugly carcase with those Saxon dogs yonder, ere thou disgraced thy\ncalling thus!\" roared Vigneau at his henchman.\n\n\"You will take care that fat carcase of yours is put in no manner of\ndanger, master!\" rasped out Pierre, in fierce retort.\n\n\"How now, villain!\" said Vigneau, drawing his sword and advancing on\nPierre. \"I'll put a stop to thy unmannerly insolence, dog!\"\n\n\"Stand back!\" said Pierre fiercely, and whipping out his sword. \"You\nwill have to take your chance, mark me, if you put not up that weapon.\nI'll have no more of your bullying! My weapon is as good as yours any\nday, whether I have won my spurs or no.\"\n\n\"Stop that!\" said De Montfort, authoritatively, and stepping between\nthem. \"How is this, Pierre? What has happened?\"\n\n\"Treachery, my lord! The Saxons were well advised of our purpose, depend\nupon it, for they were prepared for us, lying in ambush to receive us.\nBut in spite of this we should have worsted them; but when we were just\ngetting the mastery, the Saxon Oswald and fifty others dashed into our\nrear and demoralised us entirely. A burly monster, huge as a bull, led\nthe first company. Look at my shield! cut through in several places by\nhis weapons. Depend upon it, we were betrayed by some one; they were\nevidently awaiting us, everything prepared.\"\n\nWonderfully elated and heartened these Saxons were at the day's\nsuccesses; for this was the first encounter since the Normans'\ndisastrous march through the north when, matching force with force, they\nhad gained so signal a victory. The fame and prowess of Oswald spread\nlike wildfire amongst the hunted refugees, who were lurking, like beasts\nof the forest, in any hiding-place they could find. Salutary also was\nthe lesson the arrogant and vindictive oppressors learnt, for both their\nrespect and their fears were marvellously increased by it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nEVIL COUNSELLORS.\n\n    \"All good to me is lost.\n    Evil, be thou my good.\"\n\n    Milton.\n\n\nGreat was the chagrin and rage manifested by Vigneau, Count de Montfort,\nand the Normans generally, at this unexpected rebuff; and increased\ncruelties and indignities were heaped upon the hapless and degraded\nSaxons who had accepted the yoke of villeinage. Indeed, the lives of\nthese Saxons were of no account whatever; and the honour of the Saxon\nwomen was at the mercy of besotted and degraded Norman troopers. Very\nfew indeed were there amongst the Saxons who had not grievous cause to\ncherish the most deadly hatred against these ruthless oppressors and\nusurpers, the Normans.\n\nIt was too much to expect that, amid the general confiscation, the\nmonastery should continue to be governed by myself, and that monks of\nSaxon origin should minister to the poor and the sick, and have control\nof our endowments. So, as I had expected, one fateful day, my office was\ntaken from me and bestowed upon a Norman Father, who, with a number of\nmonks, had followed at the heels of the conquerors, and were as greedy\nfor the emoluments of the Church, as their brethren-in-arms were for the\npossessions of the Saxon laymen. So one Father Vigneau, who was a\nbrother of Baron Vigneau, became our Abbot, and degradation and much\noppression was meted out to us Saxons, with the object of driving us\nforth to other shelter, or to become mendicant friars or mere hedge\npriests. Some of my subordinates went forth, like Abraham, to seek a\ncountry. Some cast in their lot with their outlawed countrymen, and, I\nam sorry to say, not unfrequently became as great adepts at the wielding\nof carnal weapons as they were at saying Mass or burying the dead. But I\nhad so many ties, and such affection for my flock, that I resolved to\nstay and bear the heavy yoke; counting it no small honour to be found\nworthy to suffer like my Master.\n\nI was also greatly fortified in this my resolve by the friendship and\nhelp which I received at the hands of Alice De Montfort, who proved to\nbe a real friend, not only to myself, but to all who were in suffering\nand distress.\n\nOur new Abbot, I found, had not been trained to the service of the\nChurch, but had been, at one time, a soldier by profession. Latterly he\nhad taken to the Church, as I suspect because he found the sacred\ncalling less arduous, and could be made to serve his inordinate desire\nfor idleness and good living. His god was indeed his belly, and his life\nloose and irregular to great excess. He was a man of florid countenance,\nand much too pursy for a man whose first duty was to crucify the flesh.\nHis garments, also, ill became a man in the sacred office he had\nassumed. He was an exceedingly vain man, and loved to adorn his person,\nand affect the airs and swaggering gait of a young gallant. By his side\nhe constantly dangled a sword, and under his monk's robes he usually\nwore a coat of link-mail--which, I suspected, arose from a cowardly fear\nof assassination; for, despite his swaggering deportment, I ever found\nhim to be an arrant coward, and, like every coward, relentless and\ncruel, loving to oppress and to insult those whose position made it easy\nfor him so to do.\n\nAmongst the monks who came with him I found not one truly holy and\ndevoted man. Most of them were so ignorant as to be totally unable to\nread the sacred books in the Latin tongue. These men, like their\nsuperior, lived loose, irregular lives; habitually neglecting prayers,\nfasting, and abstinence from carnal indulgences. Indeed, of most of\nthem, if it had not been for their dress they could not have been\ndistinguished from the riotous and disorderly soldiery.\n\nOur new Abbot and his brother, Baron Vigneau, were spending the night\ntogether, indulging in one of those nightly carousals which were a\ndisgrace and a crying scandal to our ancient and holy monastery, which\nhad earned itself a good repute by the piety and learning of the\nbrotherhood, and by the wise and charitable administration of the\nprincely revenues which appertained to it. Never had it been known, in\ntimes past, that any palmer, or wandering minstrel, had been turned away\nfrom its hospitable doors, unhoused and unfed; and any distressed or\nsuffering peasant was sure to have sympathy in trouble, and relief in\nwant. But since the advent of the Normans, its revenues were dissipated\nby rioting and drunkenness, chambering and wantonness, and in\nentertaining Norman riff-raff and debauching Saxons, who were willing to\nsell themselves for the gluttonous eating and drinking to which they\nwere treated. In vain it was for us Saxons to preach virtue and chastity\nto the poor peasantry, whose cattle, implements of husbandry, and homes,\nhad been destroyed, and who could not till the ground, knowing that they\nwould be despoiled of their harvest. The poor were at best half starved,\nand subjected to most gross and cruel treatment.\n\nTo-night, however, more than ordinarily weighty matters were being\ndiscussed over their wine by the brothers.\n\n\"What progress, then, have you made in the matter?\" said the Abbot.\n\n\"Well, I have, by a most determined effort, forced the Count, much\nagainst his will, to name a day for the fulfilment of his promise. But\nthe jade, his daughter, takes high ground, and I fancy to get her nose\nto the grindstone will be no easy task.\"\n\n\"I suppose it is the old excuse the vixen makes?\"\n\n\"Yes; my tongue is not smooth enough, and my manners do not suit her\ndainty notions. She's in a precious dudgeon just now over a Saxon wench\nI took a fancy to; and she's as flighty as a two-year-old filly, and as\nproud as Lucifer. In fact, she gets more stately and arrogant from day\nto day. Never mind!\" said he, bringing his fist down upon the table.\n\"I'll take her ladyship down a peg or two by-and-bye. I scarcely know\nwhether I love or hate her most, now. She's got a pretty face and\nfigure, or I'd as soon try steel upon her as wed her.\"\n\n\"Well, I must confess she's a very handsome wench, brother--not a finer\nin Britain; but I never see her without feeling that I would give\nsomething to humble her pride. You think the Count would be out of it if\nhe knew how to get, do you?\"\n\n\"Not a shadow of a doubt of it. He would murder me at a minute's notice,\nif he could get possession of those letters I told you about. But he\nknows you are fully informed about them, and of his treachery to\nWilliam, and he dare not resort to violence until he knows how to secure\nthe letters by his effort. I have come to the conclusion to hand them\nover to you; they will be safer than in my possession.\"\n\n\"They contain conclusive evidence of his treachery, don't they?\"\n\n\"No mistake about that. They are in his own handwriting, and sealed with\nhis own crest and coat-of-arms. They make offer upon certain\nconsiderations, to sell his influence and his men to the Saxons during\nWilliam's absence. He was also fool enough to give me a written promise\nof his daughter's hand, in consideration of my fidelity to him. Nothing\nin the world could be clearer and straighter than the whole thing. He\nsees now pretty clearly that _his_ game is up; but I'll show him that\n_my_ game is not up, or likely to be, until he hands over his stately\ndaughter.\"\n\n\"He must have greatly miscalculated the odds when he put his head into a\nnoose like that.\"\n\n\"Yes; he's not played many false cards in his life, but that was one,\nand he will lose his head by it if he does not play up square with the\nremainder. I'll promise him that much at least.\"\n\n\"What cause had he to quarrel with the king?\"\n\n\"Oh, jealousy. He prides himself upon the services he has rendered to\nWilliam, and he expected in consequence to be high in the king's favour,\nand in his council. He expected to have some fat lands too, near to\nLondon. William, however, did not think so highly of his services, or\nelse he had been prejudiced against him by some courtezan, which is more\nprobable. Anyhow, no sooner was William firmly seated on the throne than\nhe gave De Montfort the cold shoulder. He made Odo, Lanfranc, and\nFitz-Osborne his chosen counsellors.\n\n\"Now, a mortal feud existed between Odo and De Montfort, and he quickly\ngot the cold side of his master's favours. He had given to him a paltry\nestate in the Fen country, where he had that Saxon devil, Hereward,\nhanging on to his skirts, and foraging all over his possessions,\nwhenever hunger drove him from his infernal den in the marshes. The\nslight which he received rankled, I can promise you; and when the\ninsurrection broke out whilst William was in Normandy, and when the\nSaxons took York, and put to the sword the garrison of three thousand\nNormans, with the Danes swarming into the Humber ripe for plunder, and\nthe Atheling trooping in from Scotland--why, the cunning of the wily one\nwas at fault for once. He thought the thing would succeed; and succeed\nit would have done, sure enough, if it had not been levelled against\nthat devil's own favourite, William. He sent me with letters to Waltheof\nand the others, offering to put his men into the field on condition that\nhe received ample reward. He hoped no doubt, also, that he would get a\nlittle revenge upon his enemies at Court.\n\n\"When I got to York I was not foolish enough to rush into the thing\nuntil I saw how matters looked. I had a bit of respect for my own neck,\nwhether I had for De Montfort's or not. If he was willing to risk his\nhead to gratify his spite, the prospect was not alluring enough for me.\nWell, I did not like the look of Waltheof, and whilst I waited, William\nhurried across the Channel, and, with a stroke of matchless craft, he\nbought off the rascally Danes. The double-dyed traitor and coward,\nWaltheof, very soon succumbed to the same influences; and away also went\nthe Atheling, full speed, for Scotland. I saw the thing was burst up. A\nfew of the smaller chieftains, like this Saxon Oswald, held their ground\nand fought it out; but it was a nine days' wonder, and nothing more.\n\n\"Well, I thought I would try a cast of my own net. I had followed the\nfortunes of De Montfort to very little profit as yet. I had thought by\nfollowing the fortunes of a leader like him, I should get a tolerably\nfair share of the spoils; and I had an understanding that I should have\nthe hand of his daughter. But, I had already begun to notice that the\ndamsel was not made altogether of pleasant humours, and probably she\nwould require a good deal of persuading to complete the bargain. So I\ntold him I had handed the letters to a brother of mine who was in the\nChurch, and held in favour by Lanfranc; and, brother, that accounts for\nyour being installed in such a snug crib as this. I flaunt these\nletters, metaphorically speaking, pretty regularly before him, to keep\nhim to the mark. The operation makes him wince; but, whether he likes it\nor not, it will be done, and to greater purpose, I can assure you, if\nhis word is not made good shortly, and his friskish daughter brought to\nher senses.\"\n\n\"Well, take the letters,\" said the Baron, tossing them across to his\nbrother. \"Pour out a flagon of good old sack; preaching is dry\nthroat-work. I say, what has become of that pretty Saxon wench I found\nhere at first? Have you any idea? I had no notion they bred cattle of\nthat quality amongst these louts of Saxons. You have not seen anything\nof her about, have you, since you came?\"\n\n\"No. I heard of that little stroke of yours, but I've not seen the wench\nat all; but I have a notion that old Saxon snake, Adhelm, knows all\nabout it. I would have made an end of him long before this, but that\nminx Alice has taken him under her protection. I would take an oath he's\nin league with those rats on the hill, and he is making mischief among\nour own brotherhood! One fellow, who has half the brains of the\nmonastery, has given utterance to sundry remonstrances which I shall not\ntolerate; and I find that he and Adhelm are very friendly.\"\n\n\"Well, take care of the letters anyhow; I shall feel safer when they are\nout of my custody.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nLOVE IS STRONGER THAN HATE.\n\n    \"True love's the gift which God has given\n    To man alone beneath the heaven:\n\n           *       *       *       *       *\n\n    It is the secret sympathy,\n    The silver link, the silken tie,\n    Which heart to heart, and mind to mind,\n    In body and in soul can bind.\"\n\n    Scott.\n\n\nIt is a lovely morning in August; the hush of perfect restfulness is in\nthe air. The cattle have retired from the heat and glare of the sun, and\nare quietly chewing the cud beneath the sheltering foliage of the\nplantain trees; whilst here and there, through the long vistas between\nthe trees, may be seen a tall stag with two or three hinds at his heels,\nventuring within sight of the haunts of men, as though timidly inviting\nman's protection against the foes of the forest. This lovely morning has\ntempted forth from the castle the two females who are directing their\nsteps to a rustic house on the banks of the river, where there are\nhoused a couple of boats. One boat is of delicate trim and dainty\nworkmanship. The oars are small and carefully made, the handles having a\nrich silken covering, showing they are intended for delicate hands to\nwield.\n\nThis is Alice's favourite recreation, and dearly she loves to have a\nquiet hour on the still bosom of the river, with Jeannette to row, and\nshe, book in hand, to sit and read or sit and muse in quiet rapture as\nshe gazes on the noble scenery around. The dip and plash of the oars, as\nJeannette beats up against the current, is as the soothing tones of\ndelicate music. Then to float slowly and in perfect stillness down\nstream, beneath the tall trees that line the banks, where busy insects\ndance and sing, and where the trout leap to catch their prey; to catch\nthe scents from the wooded bank, where breathing shrub, and plant, and\nflower, and tree, load the air with their perfumed exhalations. Truly to\nthe lover of Nature the smell of a wood is \"as the smell of a field\nwhich the Lord hath blessed!\" On this day everything seems exceptionally\nlovely, and, slowly as Jeannette is pulling, the confines of the park\nare quickly overpassed, and the castle is cut off from view by\nembowering woods.\n\n\"We are already past the limits of the park, my lady,\" said Jeannette.\n\"Shall I put the boat about now, and drift back with the stream?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, not just yet, Jeannette. Let us go a little farther to-day. It\nis such a charming morning, and I have been longing for a great while to\nexplore a little more of this delightful river.\"\n\n\"But you are forgetting the Count's express commands, my lady. You know\nhe bade us be very careful not to go beyond sight of the castle.\"\n\n\"Never fear, Jeannette. I think we may safely venture a little farther.\nYou know we have never so much as seen any human being in these\nexcursions.\"\n\n\"No, my lady; but you know what horrid, wild people these Saxons are;\nand they may be lurking in the woods and shoot their arrows at us, and\nwound or kill us before the least help could reach us.\"\n\n\"I don't think we have any enemies amongst the Saxons, Jeannette. You\nand I, at least, do not merit their vengeance, and I am quite prepared\nto trust them.\"\n\n\"But it is really dangerous, my lady,\" remonstrated the maid. \"And Paul\nLazaire has told me that they really kill and eat people, do these\nhorrid Saxons!\"\n\n\"Fie, fie, Jeannette! What a coward you are, and a simpleton to boot, to\nbelieve all the silly tales you hear about the Saxons! Look how\nexquisitely lovely the river is ahead of us. Pull a little farther up\nstream.\"\n\nTruly it was as Alice said, exquisitely lovely. The huge mountains on\neither side spread out their bases down to the water's edge, whilst\ndeep, dense woods clothed the river's brink with well-nigh impenetrable\ndepths of undergrowths and foliage. The huge trees on either side spread\nout their long arms across the river as though anxious to shake hands\nwith their giant neighbours on the opposite bank. Ahead, each bend of\nthe river through the tortuous hills was obscured from view; and it\nlooked in the distance as though it was issuing from the bowels of the\nmountain promontory in front, through a thick bower of foliage, whilst\nhere and there, as they voyaged on, the bare and frowning limestone\ncrags jutted out through the slender covering of the green fir-tree tops\nwhich vainly strove to hide them--lonesome, fearsome, and grand, the\nsolitude all around. The strange wildness and grandeur of the scene\nstirred the soul of Alice to its very depths, and it is needless to say\nshe was perfectly oblivious to everything save the sweet voice of\nNature.\n\nAs the boat and its occupants moved slowly up stream, numbers of\nwater-hens rushed off into the impenetrable recesses of foliage and\nundergrowths, or dived hurriedly beneath the roots of trees or\noverhanging embankment.\n\nYonder in the distance, in the bared and tortuous roots of a huge tree\noverhanging the water, an otter is sitting, warily watching his finny\nprey disporting themselves beneath; but at sight of these unwelcome\nvisitors he drops from the root of the tree on which he sits, with hasty\nplunge, leaving no trace of his whereabouts saving the streaming\nheadline in the water indicating the direction in which he hastes for\nsafety.\n\nFearlessly also, ahead, a flock of wild-duck are floating regally on the\nlimpid waters, unconscious of danger, and gabbling in utmost glee and\ncontent; but at this unlooked-for intrusion they set up a startled cry,\ntake hurriedly to wing, and are quickly lost in the distance.\n\nLooking carefully, also, at the entrance of yon water-course, which\ncomes tumbling over its rocky bed from the hills, a heron stands\npensively watching for any incautious trout that, quitting the deep\nwaters, comes to the lips of the mountain stream for food; but,\ndisturbed, he utters a scream, and spreading out his long wings, with\nlow and measured beat mounts into the air, probably to rest not until\nthe far-away sea-coast is reached.\n\nKingfishers too--haunters of quiet river-stretches--in coats of the\nloveliest green and gold, flit over the bosom of the water with quiet\nassurance. Snipe, also, in goodly numbers, with swift, arrow-like\nflight, dart ahead up stream, or, rising high over the tops of the\ntrees, circle back again to the rear of the boat.\n\nAlice is in raptures, and Jeannette's cautions and remonstrances alike,\nfall on ears which are preoccupied with other sounds, and are quite deaf\nto everything but the peaceful harmonies of nature.\n\n\"Look, Jeannette, at those fine hazel nuts, which hang in ripe and ruddy\nclusters there! Pull to the side at once, and let us gather them!\"\n\nJeannette's caution is completely upset at this tempting sight, and the\norder is scarcely given ere it is executed. Eagerly the pair stand up in\nthe boat to reach the brown clusters, totally oblivious and regardless\nof danger and molestation. Presently, with increasing boldness, they\nfasten the boat's chain round the bole of a tree, and clamber upon the\nbank. With nimble feet and nimble fingers they rush from tree to tree,\nstripping them of their dainty burden, and coming again and again with\ntheir hands full of nuts, and showering them into the bottom of the\nboat.\n\nBut they would not have been so content and composed had they but known\nthat two pairs of Saxon eyes had been watching intently the progress up\nstream of the frail bark, and the fair Norman women who occupied it.\nOne, at least, has determined, if chance offers, he will have a word of\nthanks with them for his deliverance. These Saxons are Oswald and his\nalmost inseparable comrade, Wulfhere. So the two slowly push aside the\nfoliage and, unnoticed, emerge in close proximity to the eager <DW42>s.\nJeannette utters a scream, and narrowly escapes an attack of hysterics.\n\n\"Calm your fears, ladies,\" said Oswald. \"We are too much your debtors to\nwish you ill. Allow me, fair lady, to tender to you on this, the first\nopportunity I have had, my undying gratitude for the life you so\nmagnanimously gave me a while ago. Though we Saxons, I am afraid, must\nappear to you as rude and uncivilised islanders, I assure you we are not\ninsensible to, or ungrateful for, any favours bestowed upon us--much\nless such favours as you have conferred on myself.\"\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" said Alice, much assured by the sincere and courteous tone\nin which the valiant and virtuous Saxon chieftain had addressed her, \"we\ndid but do what pity and admiration combined moved us to. Heaven made us\ntwo weak women, and we played a woman's part. But we have not repented\nin that we did an act prompted by those intuitions of mercy which are\nour woman's heritage.\"\n\n\"I am made a life-long debtor, fair lady, for that womanly act, and I\ntrust I may find opportunity to repay so generous a loan.\"\n\n\"I am glad we have met a Saxon who is our debtor, or we should have\nfared badly for our boldness this morning.\"\n\n\"My people, lady, will not injure a hair of your head, nor permit any\none else to do so. You may roam at will; far or near, you are perfectly\nsafe.\"\n\n\"This river scenery is perfectly enchanting, Sir Knight. If I may\npresume upon the friendship and goodwill of your people, I should like\nto explore it thoroughly?\"\n\n\"The river, lady, becomes even finer as you push into the solitudes. If\nthat craft were not so frail, we two would give you a merry spin for a\nmile or two. Indeed, if you dare trust yourself with a Saxon, let me\npull you up stream. I think I can promise you a rare treat. Wulfhere, my\ncomrade, will take care of your maid until we return.\"\n\n\"I dare venture. It would not be knightly conduct to betray a woman's\nconfidence. But will it be safe to leave Jeannette?\"\n\n\"Perfectly! Wulfhere and the hound are a pair of faithful and valiant\ndefenders.\"\n\n\"No, no!\" almost shrieked Jeannette. \"You must not go! You will be\nkilled and eaten! I have heard for certain that these horrid Saxons eat\npeople!\"\n\n\"Nonsense, Jeannette! Don't be foolish, and don't listen to such silly\ntales!\"\n\n\"Oh, dear! I shall be eaten if you aren't! Holy Mother protect me!\" said\nshe, crossing herself; and, pulling her rosary out of her bosom, she\nbegan counting her beads most violently.\n\n\"Come, my pretty,\" said Wulfhere, in his blandest tones. \"If I were a\ncannibal I wouldn't eat you. Sit on this fallen tree; I and the hound\nwill keep a respectful distance.\" So saying, he retreated half a dozen\npaces from her, and began putting the dog through some capers.\n\n\"If you eat Jeannette, Wulfhere, I shall call you to account when I come\nback,\" said Oswald laughingly, as the boat sped away.\n\nIn the meantime, Jeannette sat rocking herself in great distress,\nwatching the receding boat, and telling her beads at a great pace,\nwhilst Wulfhere continued his play with the hound, quite oblivious--or\napparently oblivious--of the tearful maiden. But nothing to this pretty\nFrenchwoman was so insupportable as to be ignored. So, after bemoaning\nher distressing circumstances without finding any special calamity\nhappening, she began casting furtive glances at her Saxon comrade, and\nshe gradually dropped her cries and tears, at his nonchalant behaviour,\nand her beads began to pass much more slowly through her fingers. To her\ncoquettish fancy there was something piquant in the indifference of this\nstalwart Saxon. Her curiosity was excited, and this speedily passed into\nadmiration for the muscular limbs and well-developed frame of Wulfhere.\nFor it is not in the disposition of many daughters of Eve--much less in\nsuch as this coquettish Frenchwoman was--to look upon such a fine piece\nof muscular anatomy as Wulfhere's, without falling into admiration of\nit. This did not pass unmarked by him, despite the hypocritical\nindifference which he had assumed. Presently he turned his gaze upon\nJeannette, and a good-humoured grin spread over his features, developing\ninto a broad smile, as he ventured to break the silence.\n\n\"I say, pretty one, you'll not run away whilst I'm gathering a few\nsticks to make the fire with, will you, eh?\"\n\n\"Fire!\" exclaimed Jeannette, clutching her beads, which had dropped into\nher lap. \"What do you want a fire for?\"\n\n\"Want a fire for! Why, I couldn't think of eating you raw!\" and he\ntwirled on his heel, to laugh.\n\nJeannette uttered an inimitable little scream. \"You horrid man, I shall\njump into the water if you stir! I'm sure I shall!\" Then, bursting into\na little laugh, all the more bewitching as it came, rainbow-like,\nbetwixt smiles and tears, she said, \"You are trying to frighten me, I\nknow; but all the same you Saxons do eat people. I've heard it said\nhundreds of times. And once, as we came along, we saw a pile of bones,\nand Paul Lazaire said they were the bones of people whom the Saxons had\neaten. So you see we know all about you.\"\n\n\"Oh, but that's all fudge, pretty one. You shall be my sweetheart, and\nthen you'll soon learn quite different.\"\n\n\"But I'm not going to be your sweetheart. So you see. I wouldn't have\nany one for a sweetheart with hair and beard as long as yours. Normans\nhave more sense than to wear horrid beards.\"\n\n\"Oh, but you shall cut my hair, and trim my beard; and I would try to\nlook like a little Norman ninny of five feet six. Then you wouldn't be\nfrightened in the least, would you?\"\n\nJeannette thought to herself she would rather take him as he was, though\nshe kept the matter to herself. The upshot of the whole was this:\nWulfhere found himself sitting by her side on the fallen tree, with the\nhound in front, and neither party very anxious for the return of the\nboat and its occupants.\n\n\"So they say we eat such as you, do they, sweetheart?\"\n\n\"Yes, they do. And they don't call me 'Sweetheart,' either. And don't\nyou think I don't know you, for I saw you fighting on that wall.\"\n\n\"Well, don't be offended now; but what do they call you?\"\n\n\"They call me Jeannette--and that's nothing to you.\"\n\n\"Oh dear, no! nothing whatever. And do they really say that we eat such\nas you?\"\n\n\"Yes, they do! And it's quite true besides! for everybody says so.\"\n\n\"Well, that's dreadful, anyhow. And how many do you suppose I shall have\neaten like you?\"\n\n\"You wouldn't have to eat _one_ like me. If you did, Paul Lazaire would\nkill you for it.\"\n\n\"Paul Lazaire? Oh, I suppose Paul Lazaire will be a sweetheart of yours.\nIs that so, Jeannette dear?\"\n\n\"Yes, he is my sweetheart. But I'm not going to marry him for all that!\nSo you see.\"\n\n\"No, I wouldn't have _him_, I'm sure. Tell him you have got a better\nnow--a Saxon.\"\n\n\"Fancy! That is fine, to be sure! Don't you think it! I'm not going to\nhave a husband at all. They are horrid things, for they are never happy\nbut when they are swilling ale. Just to think of my marrying a Saxon!\nThat would be fine indeed!\"\n\n\"Really now, my pretty Jeannette, I really am over head and ears in love\nwith you; and if you were my wife, why, I should take great care of\nyou.\"\n\n\"Wife, to be sure! The wife of a Saxon? Just think of it! I suppose I\nshould have to run about in the woods all day, clothed in sheepskins;\nthen I suppose I should have to creep into a hole in the earth at night.\nThat would be nice, wouldn't it?\"\n\nWulfhere burst into a horse-laugh. \"Perhaps you would prefer sleeping up\na tree to creeping into a hole, would you?\"\n\n\"I'm not going to do either. Besides, I daresay you have got a Saxon\nwife somewhere, for you are all deceitful--Norman and Saxon alike.\"\n\n\"Nonsense, Jeannette! I have no wife, or sweetheart either, and I have\nmade up my mind now, that my wife shall be Norman--just such a wife as\nyourself, Jeannette.\"\n\n\"Why, what would such a giant as you want a wife like me for?\"\n\n\"Why? Well, I can hardly answer that question, I declare. But something\nmust be put down to your pretty face, something to your slender waist,\nand a good deal to something I can't explain; but I never felt anything\nlike it before, for no sooner did I set eyes upon that pretty face of\nyours than I felt I should like to kiss it.\"\n\n\"Oh, you horrid, naughty man!\" said Jeannette, slipping her slender hand\ninto Wulfhere's huge paw, and unconsciously hitching closer to him on\nthe log, \"to try and deceive me with such nonsense! I know you are\ndeceiving me! Why, where should we live? I don't know where _you_ live\nnow. I should die if I had to live in the woods, and had no home. I\nshould like a home of my own, where I could play my guitar and spin my\nwool, and make you some better garments than those coarse ones you\nwear.\"\n\n\"Oh, you shall not be my wife until I can find you a home, and protect\nyou! We shall probably have to teach the Normans another lesson or two.\nThen they will listen to reason. When we have got a settlement of our\nown, then you shall be my wife, Jeannette.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I dare not! I should be frightened to live amongst the Saxons.\nBut you wouldn't harm a little woman like me? That would be cowardly.\"\n\n\"I think it would, Jeannette,\" said Wulfhere, passing his arm around her\nslim waist, drawing her to him, and planting a kiss on her sunny cheek.\n\"When I go to war I should like a sturdier foe to wreak my vengeance\non.\"\n\n\"But would you be a serf, and wear one of those horrid iron collars the\nserfs wear? I shouldn't like a husband who was a bondman.\"\n\n\"No, my pretty one, I have never been a bondman; and, what is more, I\nnever shall. I am a Saxon freeman.\"\n\n\"A 'freeman'? What is a 'freeman'?\"\n\n\"A freeman is one who tills his own land, and is no man's vassal or\nbondman. I shall remain a freeman, and my sons shall be freemen after\nme.\"\n\nAt this juncture the hound gave a start, and threw back his head, at the\nsame time giving utterance to a low, fierce growl. Presently a footstep\nis heard, not approaching stealthily, but crashing through the trees and\nunderwood. Wulfhere springs to his feet; his bow is unslung, and an\narrow affixed in a moment. The hound also starts to his feet, his\neyeballs glitter, and the veins of his neck and body are distended\nalmost to bursting. The low branches are put aside, and the burly form\nof Sigurd, the dispossessed viking chieftain, emerges before them. His\nlowering brow and impetuous manner tell but too plainly that there is a\ntempest raging within him.\n\n\"Wulfhere,\" said he, \"what does this mean?\"\n\n\"What does what mean, my lord?\"\n\n\"Why, the drivelling folly I have witnessed for the last half hour or\nmore! Fitter stuff for a Norman libertine than for a Saxon freeman, and\none who makes pretence of valour!\"\n\n\"I am at a loss to know what you mean, my lord.\"\n\n\"I mean? Why, I mean that whilst I and others of thy countrymen are\nlurking near the haunts of these French dogs, that we may have revenge\nupon them, thou and thy master are toying and fooling with their women.\nBut enough of this! Make an end of this woman, and an end of thy folly\nat a blow, and thou hast then made amends.\"\n\n\"Indeed I shall do no such thing. This maiden and her noble mistress\ngave my chief his life, and it will be woe to the man who dares injure\neither the one or the other.\"\n\n\"What care I for thy master's scruples? These Normans owe us\nsatisfaction for a thousand Saxon lives they have taken. So stand aside;\nI'll do my own business.\"\n\n\"Indeed you will do no such thing, until you have disposed of me;\" and\nWulfhere threw himself boldly in front of Sigurd.\n\n\"Ah, art thou insolent into the bargain, dog? I will chastise thy\nbravado out of thee if thou stand not aside;\" and he grasped the hilt of\nhis sword.\n\nWulfhere, seeing the movement, and having no sword, sprang upon him and\ndealt him a stinging blow with his clenched fist. So violently was this\ngiven that, sturdy as he was, Sigurd reeled back several paces.\n\n\"Ah, is that it, my buck? Then I'll have thee with thine own weapon, for\nI do not need to take any advantage of a varlet like thyself!\"\n\nSo saying, he rushed on Wulfhere, with intent to come to close quarters.\nBut Wulfhere knew well the great personal strength of his bulky\nantagonist, so he dodged with great agility every effort Sigurd made to\ngrapple with him. And he did not fail to deal him repeatedly heavy blows\nwith his clenched fists. This so exasperated Sigurd that he was as\nfurious as a mad bull, and for a considerable time it seemed to be a\nbattle between brute force and agility, the balance being much in favour\nof the more agile. Unfortunately, a trip on the part of Wulfhere, over\nthe root of a tree, gave Sigurd the chance he had been vainly striving\nfor. Ere he could recover himself, Sigurd gripped him in his powerful\nembrace, and gathering him up as though he were a child, he hurled him\nto the ground, exclaiming, \"Now I will kill thee, churl!\" and he grasped\nhim by the throat. The hound, which had been dancing round the\ncombatants during the fray, with many furious and irresolute darts at\nSigurd, seeing Wulfhere in such desperate straits, sprang upon Sigurd,\nand buried his teeth in the fleshy part of his arm.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nALICE DE MONTFORT AND THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.\n\n    \"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,\n    And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\nThe boat containing Oswald and Alice, impelled by the strong arms of the\nSaxon chieftain, sped along swiftly through the magnificent scenery.\n\n\"Now, lady, what think you? Did I speak truly when I praised the\nscenery?\"\n\n\"Yes. Truly it would be an earthly paradise if it were not for the greed\nand cruelty of man. I think it richer and grander in these leafy\nsolitudes than anything I have seen; or else it is because it fits my\ntaste so wondrously.\"\n\n\"Yes. I cannot say, lady, that I hope you and your people will long\nenjoy the new home you have found, for I confess to you I cherish most\nardent desires to be its lord again; though I think I can renounce my\nhopes, and well-nigh welcome exile if you are to be its mistress, and I\nmay be permitted to look with unsinning eyes upon a form which has\nbecome even dearer to me than freedom and home. I doubt me, however,\nthis latter wish may not be, for I hear some Norman knight claims your\nhand.\"\n\n\"My father has affianced me to one of the knights of his retinue; but\nthis betrothal is without my consent, if I may be so bold as to confess\nit to a stranger. Indeed, I care not to disguise the fact that it is a\nmost hateful alliance, and most abhorrent to me. I shall much prefer, if\nI may be permitted, to retire to a convent in my native land, rather\nthan wed a man so incapable of inspiring either my love or my respect as\nthis Baron Vigneau.\"\n\n\"I am afraid it is I who am too bold, in intruding in so delicate a\nmatter, and one so remote from my concerns. But I would fain think, and\nhope, that the Count will not press a loveless marriage upon you; to do\nsuch violence to your affections would be cruel.\"\n\n\"My father is a soldier, Sir Knight, seared and blunted by his calling,\nand sentiment has little place in his nature. Latterly, also, I have\nnoticed moroseness of disposition creeping over him; and upon this\nquestion he is more stern and peremptory than ever he was wont to be,\nand I lose heart and hope. Indeed, I am in sore straits. And your\nintrusion--if intrusion it be--I recognise is dictated by sympathy; and\nI stand much in need of this.\"\n\n\"I would I could convey to you, lady, in adequate terms--terms in which\nI should not be presumptuous--how honoured I should be if I could serve\nyou in any way whatever. My resources, my men--nay, believe me, lady,\nfor exaggeration would be most gross--my life is at your disposal, fully\nand unreservedly.\"\n\n\"I would fain accept of you as an ally and a friend, for I stand alone,\nand have not even a confidante, saving my maid, and I find the iron\nwills of my father and Vigneau completely bear me down; and if I escape\nfrom the toils of Vigneau, some stronger arm will have to interpose a\nrescue.\"\n\n\"I am but a Saxon outlaw, lady, a wolfshead, landless, penniless, and\nhunted; but if you can bethink you how I may serve you, my arm is\nstrong, and my sword's edge unblunted. If time but tarry a while, I am\nconfident something may be done to set you free from the life-long\nmisery of a union with Vigneau; and I know enough of him to convince me\nthat there is no community of taste or of disposition between you. I\ndare not say more, for my presumptuous heart runs riot with my\nunderstanding, and I may say things most unbefitting my present\ndesperate estate.\"\n\n\"Make no apology, worthy knight,\" said Alice, blushing scarlet, then\npale and trembling, \"for your worldly misfortunes. A knight despoiled,\nbut not disgraced, has no need to humble himself to me. Gold and lands\nare at best but an accident, but virtue and nobility of character are\nthe slow growth of virtuous thinking and noble endeavour. And which,\nthink you, valiant Saxon, are most highly valued by a simple maiden like\nmyself? You are my debtor, you say; then here is an enterprise will tax\nyour wisdom--I fear your prowess also. Doughty knights have in past\ntimes, it is said, effected wonderful deliverances for maidens in\ndistress. Is it only the language of romance? I will not affectedly\nprofess that I do not understand your language; but there is a challenge\nfor you. If lightly won, Sir Knight, I may be lightly worn.\"\n\nNow this high-born maiden was cultured, virtuous, womanly, and,\nmoreover, she was young--a matter to be taken note of, for maidens then\ndo not often dilute the gift of the heart with worldly considerations;\nbut only few men are capable of winning such love. Does it require great\ntact, address, astuteness--such as men employ to catch some young colt,\nunbroken, shy, and suspicious? No. Whenever such love is won, it is won\neasily, without laying of siege, or clever generalship; in fact,\nastuteness, or tactics of any sort, are fatal to success. It is not a\nbargain, a huckstering _quid pro quo_. It is an inspiration, an\nintuition. It is a rush of all that is holiest, truest, tenderest, and\ntrustful in woman towards the man who is capable of inspiring it, and of\nsetting free the abounding wealth of a woman's heart. What conditions\ndoes it demand? Well, these are essentials: it asks for broad and ample\nstrength to lean upon without misgiving. It demands an integrity that\nmay be trusted to the uttermost, beyond the bounds where prudence,\ndiscretion, and kindred virtues cry halt. It asks the frankness and\ntransparency of soul where nothing is hidden, and where there are no\ndark corners, suspicious and unreadable, suggestive of things to be\ndisguised with care. When these qualities are present, they are\nluminously visible to a woman's intuitions, and the citadel of her heart\nis won easily and without capitulation terms. There are more hearts won\nat short notice than cynics would allow; but it is the spontaneous\nembrace of the divine that is in us, and alas! there is little of the\ndivine in most mortals.\n\nAs the foregoing words fell from the lips of Alice, Oswald started\nforward as though electrified, and laid his hand on the hilt of his\nsword.\n\n\"Believe me, lady,\" said he, \"I never dared to dream such a cup of\nblessedness would be held to my lips; and I assure you I needed no other\nstimulus than the debt of gratitude I owe to you for my deliverance from\ndeath, in order to brave anything and everything for you. But if there\nbe hope, however remote, of winning a place in your affections, as my\ndesperate estate has already moved your compassion, and that some day,\nin happier circumstances, I may even dare to ask you to be my bride,\nsuch an inpiration will nerve my arm and brace my energies, so that\ndifficulties shall be most desperate if I overcome them not.\"\n\n\"I fear me, Sir Knight, if you undertake so desperate an enterprise as\nthis, with success, it will require matchless skill and daring, coupled\nwith deadliest peril. I fear, also, it will have to be a sharp sword\nthat severs so unholy and hated a bond.\"\n\nAlice hesitated a moment, as though feelings of delicacy forbade farther\nadvances; then, although the blushes on her countenance deepened, she\nsaid,--\n\n\"Having confided so much of the story of my sorrows--I fear at the peril\nof my modesty--may I venture farther confidence?\"\n\n\"I dare not ask you for confidences you hesitate to give, fair lady, for\nI am deeply conscious my worthiness to receive them has not been put to\nthe proof. Consult your own heart in this, for it is your best and\nsafest guide.\"\n\n\"I think I may safely venture everything, and trust you, Saxon, even to\nthe uttermost and with all my heart. This involves my father's secret,\nand his deadly peril also, for this Vigneau has obtained a fatal\nascendency over him. He holds documents most compromising to my father,\nin addition to the promise given long ago; and which my father might\npossibly have revoked with impunity had not Vigneau obtained possession\nof these treasonable documents. These he uses with brutal terrorism to\nenforce his claim to my hand. In an unhappy moment my father entered\ninto negotiations with the leaders of the late Saxon rebellion, and he\nmade use of Baron Vigneau as his intermediary. The Baron never delivered\nthose letters, but with brutal cunning he still holds them, and he uses\nthem with deadly effect to enforce his claims.\"\n\n\"Ah! I have a distinct remembrance of this,\" said Oswald, as the\nmemorable scene at the Council, in York, presented itself to his mind.\n\"I remember too well this traitor entering our assembly, under pretext\nof joining our ranks in opposition to the king; and I remember well,\nalso, I met him face to face in combat next day, and 'tis a quarrel\nstill unsettled, but which may be fought to the bitter end some day.\nTake heart, lady; some means will assuredly be devised for circumventing\nthe purposes of this unscrupulous braggart, Vigneau. But if this should\nnot be accomplished by human agency, I would fain think and hope, if the\nwisdom and the valour of man should fail, a kindly Providence has in\nstore a happier lot for one so fair, so virtuous, and so good. Let us\nfoster hopes of brighter days; these are troublous times, and one\nrevolution of Fortune's wheel may bring momentous changes. Perhaps the\nasperities and hatreds of race, engendered by these cruel wars, may be\nsoothed and healed again, and Saxon and Norman may be blended in one\nunited people.\"\n\n\"Alas! can this ever be? My people seem drunk with greed and blood, and\nthy people given to fierce reprisals.\"\n\n\"This reconciliation does not seem as though it were near, truly, lady.\nOur peasantry have been massacred by scores. The more spirited of them\nhave taken to outlawry, and would as soon take the life of a Norman as\nthe life of a stag. We have also chieftains amongst us who have lost\nall, and live only for revenge; fierce and implacable, they cherish mad\nschemes of re-conquest, which are utterly futile. But all the same, it\nwill be woe to the man who argues for peace in the Saxon witan in the\npresence of these implacable men.\"\n\n\"Is there anything I can do to soothe these hatreds?\"\n\n\"You have begun well, and it seems marvellous to report, your deeds of\nmercy and kindness are being talked about through the countryside where\nSaxons meet together. These acts of kindness make for peace with\nmightier force than deeds of arms or years of a rule of force.\"\n\n\"But what is to be the solution of this race difficulty? Some of our\npeople speak and act as though there were no solution but the\nextermination of all those who offer any resistance to their being\nreduced to villeinage the most abject.\"\n\n\"In a policy of force there is no other conclusion. If you were to take\nyonder sapling and tie its head down to earth, there would be unceasing\nresistance to the ignoble bond. And why? Because the Creator made it to\nbe free, to rear its head aloft, contemporaneous with its fellows. The\nhuman spirit loves its freedom even better than yon sapling, and its\nresistance to all tyranny is eternal. Force may fetter it, but perpetual\nforce will be necessary to keep it fettered. Mark me, lady, it is easier\nto talk of extermination than to effect it. I command at present a band\nof men who are the pick of my race for valour, who will defy thy people\nwith impunity, and are capable of striking fierce blows of revenge in\nevery unguarded moment. If ever the hour of thy nation's weakness should\ncome, terrible will be the revenge, if some strong hand curb not the\nwild spirit.\"\n\n\"This unholy strife between our peoples is madness. How may we avert\nit?\" said Alice.\n\n\"I confess, lady, that but a little while ago I had no feelings but\nthose of undying hatred to thy race. But as I lay in that dungeon\nbeneath the castle, an angel in human form, by an act of pure mercy,\ngave me liberty and life. 'Twas wonderful! The cold, frozen blood at my\nheart turned, at a stroke, to warmth. I felt that there is a passion of\nthe human heart more potent than hatred, and some obligations more\nbinding than an oath. Let those who do not love strife, but love mercy,\nwork for mercy and reconciliation; and I think I see the day when there\nshall be such a blending of races that each shall be strengthened by the\nother.\"\n\n\"I shall welcome the day, Sir Knight. But had we not better return?\nJeannette, I am afraid, will be in great trouble.\"\n\n\"I am not a knight, lady; we Saxons are slow at learning the language of\nchivalry. If it be not presumptuous to ask it, call me Oswald; 'twill\nbring us so much nearer.\"\n\n\"Then if you have not learnt the language of chivalry, you will be the\nbetter able to call me Alice. Is it agreed?\"\n\n\"With all my heart, Alice. It is a compact. Let me again assure you that\nyou and your maid are perfectly safe in the woods or anywhere, so far as\nmy followers and vassals are concerned. There is just one thing I would\ncaution you about,\" said he, with a twinkle in his eye. \"One Saxon has a\nvery great admiration for the very spots which you are likely to choose;\nand I warn you, if he see a certain light in his lady's eyes, never more\nlook for peace.\"\n\n\"Really this does sound like the language of our Norman gallants, after\nall. But come, now, if you are really heart-hungry, just a crumb of\ncomfort will sustain you; for our Norman ballads declare very loudly\nthat valorous knights for their lady-loves will do and dare, or suffer\nand wait,--well, really, without going through the list, it is wonderful\nwhat valiant knights will do for love and chivalry--_in books_. I used\nto see the said valiant knights in books, but latterly I have been face\nto face with the reality; and alas! I find them most devoted to wine and\nale, and incontinence. So, Sir Knight,--for such I will call you once\nmore--he who wins Alice de Montfort will have a knightlier soul than\nthis.\"\n\n\"Well, I will not sound a trumpet before me, as the hypocrites do, so no\nmore of this. Let time declare it. But did you learn how I made my\nescape from the castle that fateful night?\"\n\n\"No. Pray tell me now? I am most curious to know it.\"\n\n\"Wait a little. But let me tell you I can enter the castle when I like.\nIf you wish an interview with me at any time, you need but make some\nsignal from the tower, and at nightfall I will meet you there whenever\nyou wish.\"\n\n\"But can you come with perfect safety?\"\n\n\"With absolute safety.\"\n\n\"Then that shall be our trysting-place, to which I will summon my Saxon\nally when good news stirs--but I fear me more often when my sad heart\nneeds cheering. But I sorely fear your coming there will be full of\nperil. Could I not meet you elsewhere?\"\n\n\"Courage, dear one! and take no thought for me. Let your heart be stout,\nfor the future is luminous with hope.\"\n\nAs the boat rounded a bend in the river, Oswald beheld the fierce\nstruggle going on between the two Saxons, and, with an exclamation of\npain, he gave two or three lusty strokes which sent the boat flying\namongst the trees which lined the embankment. Hastily springing upon the\nbank, he tore Sigurd from the prostrate form of Wulfhere.\n\n\"Jarl!\" said he, \"how is this? Making war upon your friends! This will\nnot do, mark me!\"\n\n\"And how is this?\" retorted Sigurd fiercely. \"You and this\nchicken-hearted slave making love to deadly enemies. This will not do,\n_mark that_!\"\n\n\"Enough, enough!\" said Oswald, gathering up the prostrate form of\nJeannette, who was in a dead swoon. He lifted her into the boat and\ndashed a few drops of cold water in her face. \"There, now,\" said he,\n\"she is all right.\" And in a whisper he said to Alice, \"Pull away,\ndearest. Remember the tryst, and be not dismayed. This man is a scion of\nthe untamed Vikings who linger in the land. I shall know how to deal\nwith him.\"\n\nOswald watched the boat and its occupants glide away, and waving a last\nadieu he turned to his companions, and said, \"Let us go. Sigurd,\" he\ncontinued, in tones of severity, \"this fierce quarrel bodes no good to\nthe Saxon cause.\"\n\n\"Does this dawdling with Norman women bode some good to the Saxon cause?\nI wot Viking, or Dane, or old-time Saxon would not have warred like\nthis. Are we going to avenge ourselves upon our enemies by simpering to\ntheir women? My ancestors have conquered with the sword, and I will\nthrust through any Norman I can--aye, and their women, too! To spare the\ndam to suckle cubs will not do for me!\"\n\n\"Sigurd, mark me, thy fierce, implacable temper will hurt the Saxon\ncause more than ever thy sword will aid it. Kindly understand that I am\nlord in these parts, and my will shall be law. If thou art not\nsatisfied, well, thou had better return to thy own domain of Lakesland,\nand make war according to thy own notions. If thou succeed better than\nus, well, then we may copy thy methods; but here we will have no slaying\nof defenceless women and children. As for these two in particular, they\ngave me my life, and whoever injures a hair of their heads is my mortal\nfoe. Let that suffice, Jarl.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut! Fine, no doubt; but I like not such modes of warfare, and if\nI cannot be allowed to spill Norman blood whenever I can, I'll none of\nit.\"\n\n\"I have my own plans for the protection of my people and for the\namelioration of their lot, and I think it is the best. As for thy\nmethods, and the hopes thou hast of driving out the Normans, I regard\nthem as worse than madness, and they will end in the annihilation of the\nSaxon race. So be pleased to interfere no more with my plans,\" said\nOswald.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nWAR'S VICISSITUDES.\n\n    \"Hope tells a flattering tale,\n      Delusive, vain, and hollow.\n    Ah! let not hope prevail,\n      Lest disappointment follow.\"\n\n    Miss Wrother.\n\n\nThe desperate repulse which the Normans received at the hands of the\nSaxon outlaws, made them exceedingly chary of attempting again the\nextermination of them. This afforded a welcome respite to the fugitives,\nparticularly to the women and children. But the vigilance of their\nsentinels was never permitted to be relaxed. The retreat to which Ethel\nhad been conveyed was thus free from alarms, and lacked nothing in\npicturesqueness and beauty. Oswald had taken care that it should be\nfurnished with some comfort and taste, for he had been wont in\nsummertime to spend often many days, and even weeks, in this secluded\nand lovely spot. To Ethel, this home in the mountains was dearly\nwelcome. During the day she busied herself with the books of history,\ntravel, and romance which Oswald loved; and at even her countenance\nbrightened at his cheery words and pleasant greetings. But for some days\na strange feeling of anxiety and foreboding had clouded her happiness;\nfor more than a week Oswald had not so much as paid a hurried visit to\nhis favourite rendezvous.\n\n\"Your master has not been here for more than a week, Bretwul,\" said she\none day, when her anxiety for tidings could no longer be resisted. \"Do\nyou know what detains him? I fear me he has fallen into the hands of the\nNormans.\"\n\n\"He will not fall into the hands of the Normans so easily, lady. If he\ndoes it will only be his body, though I am afraid he ventures on some\ndesperate enterprises.\"\n\n\"Whither has he gone, Bretwul? Know you?\"\n\n\"I know not for certainty, lady, but I have belief he has gone with one\nSigurd, lord of Lakesland, for he has disappeared and taken his wild-cat\ncrew with him. Good riddance, I trow! and may my eyes never look upon\nsuch starved, ill-clad, unsavoury mortals again!\"\n\n\"Who is this Sigurd you speak of, Bretwul?\"\n\n\"He is lord of the Lakes, but has had served out to him the same\ntreatment as every other Saxon chieftain has had; first wholesale\nbutchery of his followers, then death, or flight and exile, for\nhimself.\"\n\n\"What has he been doing here?\"\n\n\"He has been hunted, harassed, and driven from one hiding-place to\nanother, until he had but a handful of followers left. Then he sought\nrespite in flight, and has been for a little while with us here, he and\na dozen of his housecarles. Now he hears the Norman army has gone south,\nso he would fain return to the fray, and has craved the assistance of\nthe Earl and a dozen stout retainers, in return for the services he\nrendered us.\"\n\n\"I had a dream last night, Bretwul. I saw Oswald fighting desperately\nwith Norman foes, and then he was surrounded by them and sorely wounded.\nThen I saw him borne by rough hands to a cave in the mountain side, and\nI saw him swiftly bleeding to death, and no one there knew how to\nstaunch his wounds or cool his feverish brow; and I heard him cry\n'Ethel!' And as I stretched out my hands to help, I awoke.\"\n\n\"It was but a dream, lady. Do not let your mind run on such thoughts as\nthese. You are looking pale and ill. My master will be angry when he\nreturns, if he knows I told you of his purpose.\"\n\n\"Can we not go to-night? I do not care to spend my time in idleness and\nease while he thus braves danger and death for his country. By hard\nriding we can reach Lakesland ere the sun is up, and I am sure I can be\nof service.\"\n\n\"Beshrew me if I dare budge a stone-throw from this place until he gives\nthe word! I like not lying to rust, like the Earl's old swords hung\nthere, in idleness; but I would rather not face him after disobeying\norders.\"\n\n\"But he may be wounded, and no one near to nurse him but these rough\nmen, whilst I am worse than useless here, with nothing to do but burden\nothers!\"\n\n\"Set your fears at rest, lady. These rough men know how to lay a\nsplintered bone, or close a wound, like any practised leech. But if you\nlet your mind run on these things you will be miserable. I have no fear\nfor him. The Normans will find their match, I trow, and give him a wide\nberth. I have seen them cut down churls like myself with vigorous\nstrokes, and strike halting blows at him, through sheer terror at his\nappearance.\"\n\n\"But they are many to one, and better armed, and he will be overborne by\nthe numbers of them. I am sure I could be of service, and I should like\nto be near; I don't mind the rough life at all. Saddle us a pair of\nhorses, and let us start to-night.\"\n\n\"I warrant the Earl would slit my ears if I dared do any such thing! But\nthese are idle fears. I forget me, though; I have a message from the\nAbbot Adhelm. But, by our Lady! he is no longer abbot, but a humble\nfriar, with no more power in his own abbey than any scullion priest. He\nwas a worthy Father, and never turned a lean dog of a Saxon away without\ncrumbs and comfort. But, among the other bad things these Normans have\nbrought, are a lot of swag-bellied monks, who broach more ale-casks than\nthey say prayers; and, by the Mass! they drink the ale, too, for there\nis never a drop, or a taste of venison, to bestow on a famishing palmer,\nor starving yeoman. I wish I could stick a nettle under their tails and\nmake them trot, the whole brood of them. The Church will never make much\nout of my prayers, beshrew me! but I would with right good will rid her\nof these shaveling carrion who have come swarming at the heels of the\nfighting men.\"\n\n\"But you said you had a message from Adhelm, did you not, Bretwul?\"\n\n\"Aye, aye, lady!\" said Bretwul, highly gratified at the diversion he had\neffected. \"When my tongue is set a-wagging, it is as long as my dog's\nwhen he is dead beat in chasing a hare; there's no hauling it in. Well,\nAdhelm has found some pity in a wolf's den. Whoever would have looked\nfor a she-wolf having compassion on the sheep?\"\n\n\"I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about Bretwul.\"\n\n\"Marry, no! there's no sense in an ass's braying; but bringing him to\nthe end on't is another matter. Well, gramercy! this fire-eating Norman\ncount has got a daughter who belies her own father.\"\n\n\"Belies her own father? What may that mean?\"\n\n\"Aye, marry, it's true enough--belies her own father. I take the liberty\nto dodge about a bit amongst the churls who have submitted to these\nNormans, to see what encouragement there may be to feed at the same\ntrough as these broken-spirited cattle. Well, an iron collar about my\nneck is an ornament I don't covet, and kicks and cuffs always did bruise\nmy flesh, and, what is even more painful, they bruise my mind; so a\nNorman serf I will not be. But they tell me this count has a daughter\nwho has compassion, and visits them, carrying dainties to such as are\nsick. Adhelm also and she are great friends, and he says she occupies\nherself much in this sort of work.\"\n\nThis colloquy was cut short by a sharp knock at the door and the hurried\nentrance of one of the Earl's retainers.\n\n\"Bretwul!\" said he; but, his eye alighting on Ethel, he suddenly paused.\n\"I crave your pardon,\" said he, hastily doffing his cap. \"Matters of\nimportance, which stand not on ceremony, have brought me.\"\n\n\"What are they, my man?\" said Ethel, eager and apprehensive.\n\n\"The Earl is slightly unwell,\" said the stranger, noticing Bretwul's\ncautioning gesture; \"and I have ridden hard to request that a bed may be\nprepared.\"\n\n\"My dream! my dream!\" almost shrieked Ethel, starting from her seat. \"He\nis not dead yet! Say he is not dead?\"\n\n\"Calm yourself, lady,\" said Bretwul, giving the stranger another\nsignificant look.\n\n\"No, no, lady; a mere scratch. A few weeks of your nursing will set him\non his feet as sound as a rock. But you will make ready, Bretwul? They\nare not far behind.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nVIKING CHIEF AND SAXON MAIDEN.\n\n                          \"He beheld\n    A vision, and adored the thing he saw.\"\n\n    Wordsworth.\n\n\nEre long, the hum of voices and the scrambling sound of approaching\nfootsteps were heard. Then hurried orders, given in an undertone,\nmuffled footsteps, as of persons bearing a burden, accompanied by a low,\ndeep groan, broke upon the anxious ear of Ethel, who was listening with\nnerves in a state of utmost tension and alarm. These sounds gradually\nabated as the party retired to a more distant room, and doors were\nsoftly closed behind. By-and-bye her anxious suspense was abated by the\nentrance of Bretwul and his wife, accompanied by Sigurd, the lord of\nLakesland. A cold tremor ran through her blood as her eyes rested for\nthe first time upon the burly figure of the stranger; and she tried to\nevade the rivetted gaze which he turned upon her, by turning to Bretwul.\n\n\"I think the Earl is much worse than the messenger would have us\nbelieve, Bretwul. Can I go to him? I may be of use. I have some skill in\nnursing, thanks to my instructions and the terrible times upon which our\nland has fallen.\"\n\n\"Do not be alarmed,\" said Sigurd, trying to infuse as much of gentleness\nas he could into the gruff tones which issued from the deep, broad\nchest. \"Oswald is put to bed, and his wound is a mere nothing--a\nflesh-wound, which ought to have healed itself; but his body has been\npampered and daintily housed, and the merest cuts tell on such. The\nwound has cankered and brought on a touch of fever. Pity that men, who\nought to know better, swathe their limbs, and pamper their bodies, and\nlive in cunningly decorated houses, and spend their time toying with\nsuch finikin things as these\"--pointing to sundry books and musical\ninstruments. \"Women's things, and baby's toys!\"\n\n\"I think I had better go with you, Eadburgh,\" said Ethel, anything but\nassured by the unsympathetic words of the strange visitant.\n\nThis was just what Eadburgh was anxious to say; and the two immediately\ndisappeared.\n\n\"Be seated, my lord,\" said Bretwul to Sigurd, \"and I will find some\neatables. I doubt not you are well-nigh famished.\"\n\n\"Aye, aye. We have ridden eight hours continuously in the darkness, and\nyou well say we are famishing.\"\n\nNo sooner had the door closed behind Bretwul than Sigurd's astonishment\nat the vision his eyes had just seen, found vent.\n\n\"What is this I have looked upon?\" he murmured to himself. \"Some\ninhabitant of Valhalla, where our gods and heroes have gone? Surely our\npriests have told me of nothing so fair as she, even there! I would\ncovet a hero's grave this very hour, and the dark beyond, if they who\ndwell there get them wives so fair as she.\"\n\nHere, let me, for the further information of the reader, say that this\nSigurd, or \"lord of Lakesland,\" as he was known, whom we have met with\nbefore in these pages, was a typical example of many a Norse chieftain\nwho still held sway in the land, ruling their followers after the manner\nof the rude past; and the important part which he plays in these\n\"Chronicles\" calls for a more elaborate introduction than we have yet\naccorded him. He was a man who rivetted the gaze at once, but it was a\nfascination, and not a delight, to the beholder. Men could not forbear\nto look, but they far oftener turned away from him with a shudder and a\nsense of relief than otherwise. When Halfdane, the viking marauder,\npounced down upon Northumbria, and the north of England generally, he\ndivided a great part of the lands of the Saxons amongst his followers;\nand they, settling amongst the Angles, intermarried with them; and thus,\nin the course of time, the two became almost one people. But in some\ndistricts there were clearly defined lines of separateness. Sigurd, in\nunbroken line, was a descendant of one \"Rollo, the Ganger\" (or walker).\nWonderful traditions lingered amongst the people of the height and build\nof this warrior: such fragmentary histories, or folk-lore, declared that\nhe was compelled to walk because no horse could bear his weight. Hence\nhis name, the \"Ganger,\" or walker.\n\nAs this Sigurd was in body and physical proportions, so he was in mind.\nHe was rough, rude in manners, tastes, and pursuits, but strong in the\nsturdy virtues of honesty and chastity, his Viking heritage. In the case\nof Oswald notably, and of Ethel, and many others of our Saxon chieftains\nand chieftainesses, some measure of education had been sought after and\nprized. Contact also with the Normans, who in goodly numbers dwelt in\nEngland during our late King Edward's lifetime, had done much to modify\nthe vulgar tastes and habits of the English. But in the case of Sigurd,\nthe undiluted primitiveness of the marauding Norseman, untainted and\nuninfluenced by the undoubted advance the world was making, was\nembodied. He never travelled beyond the rugged hills and weird gorges of\nhis domain, unless it were to meet the hardy robbers from over the\nScottish border. To fish in the glorious lakes; to hunt in the\nstretching forests and dense woods; to excel in the rude games of\nwrestling, archery, putting the stone, and many other games which\nconstituted the sole recreations of vulgar churls, was his delight. He\nhad little sympathy and little intercourse with those members of his\nclass who were awaking to the presence of, and yielding to, the\ncivilising influences which were beginning to be felt in England, by its\nincreasing contact with the continent of Europe. Still, there was a\nrugged honesty about this man altogether admirable. He loved deeply and\nfaithfully; but he hated just as fiercely and implacably. He was a man\nof great, even gross extremes, magnificent in energy and force of\ncharacter. Happy was the man who shared his affection; but woe be to the\nman who incurred his hatred. This first interview with Ethel had a\ndistinctly repellent influence upon her; her very blood seemed to freeze\nunder his ardent gaze. It seemed to her that she was face to face with\none of the unlovable gods or heroes, their sagas, or wise men, were\nnever tired of glorifying. The sense of shrinking and dread which Ethel\nexperienced at this first meeting might have been intensified by her\nanxiety with regard to Oswald; but Sigurd was quick to notice the\ninvoluntary start, the shrinking from him, and it cut him deeply, and to\nthe quick.\n\nWhen the door was closed he stood for some minutes like one petrified,\nblankly staring at the closed door through which the fair vision had\ndisappeared. The form and features of the beautiful Saxon floated\nindistinctly before his vision. \"She shrank from me!\" he fiercely\nejaculated, but the tones were half a groan as well. \"Why this\nill-disguised dread of me?\" he murmured. He slowly surveyed himself from\nhead to foot in the vain endeavour to discover what it was about him\nwhich so startled and repelled Ethel. Then he strode across the room and\nstood before a mirror which hung from the wall in an elaborately wrought\nframe--an article he had never used before, and seldom met with, and\nwhich he faced now with a scowl of contempt upon his face. His head and\nface were faithfully reflected, and some of his muscular frame. His\nvisage was bronzed and brown, his beard unshaven and unkempt, whilst\nfrom underneath his helmet there escaped masses of hair of an unlovely\nred colour. \"Ah!\" he ejaculated, \"I should better win me a bride as my\nfierce Viking ancestors won theirs, with their swords, getting them as\nthe spoil of war, or winning them at Holmganga (duel), where valour and\nprowess in arms were recognised. Any Norman gallant with a well-trimmed\nbeard would put me to the rout as wives are won in these degenerate\ndays! Any Saxon with a smattering of clerk's gear and book-learning,\nwould have me on the hip. One who could play at joust with foppish\nNorman gallants, or lilt his heel to the sound of music, would be\npreferred before me. Yet, what is there ails these sturdy limbs of mine?\nSturdy limbs counted for much in the days of our ancestors; but now\nevery dainty girl shrinks at them with contempt, as marks of\nboorishness. Why should this girl shrink from me so? Hist to me,\nViking,\" said he, apostrophising himself, \"and tell me this. Why should\nthis fair Saxon thus unhinge me? Why should I care for blue eyes, flaxen\ntresses, and a sylph-like form? Viking warriors were not mothered by\ngirls like this. Then clearly, if Viking warriors cannot be mothered by\nsuch, Viking warriors should not be wived by them. A wife of brawny\nbuild, with hardihood enough to be a sea-king's consort, and nurse me\nwarrior sons, would surely mate me best. My home will have to be the\nrugged hills where the eagle hath his eyrie, or the dense forest where\nprowls the wolf, and where the lordly red deer roam at will. Yet I do\nbelieve this fair Saxon hath bewitched me; she is comely beyond aught my\neyes have seen before. But what of that? 'Tis despisable--maudlin! Yet\nthose blue eyes of hers, and that comeliness of form, is quite new to\nme. Those maidens of brawny build, and bold, unwomanly features--I never\nbethought me to love them yet. Ah! I have been ever ready to fight the\nbold, but I never could love it; 'tis the gentleness and maidenly grace\nof this Saxon maiden hath done it. Her speech is gentle, and her manner\nis coy and shy, and nothing forward. Out upon me for a dotard!\" said he\nsavagely. \"I'll no more on't! I will not sleep under this roof; 'tis\nenervating! I'll get me out upon the heath, where I can hear the sough\nof the night winds, and listen to the night-birds' screech. 'Twill bring\nme back my Viking's mood, and scare away this flimsy dream of love. How\ncould I mate with a timid dove, except I shed my talons! A Viking sleek\nand pursy, well fed, and ease-loving!--a monstrosity I should be! The\ndoor of Valhalla would be closed against me. The gods and heroes in the\nland beyond the deep sea, whose company I hope to join at death, would\ndisown me. My boast and pride, my Viking's race, would fitly come to end\nwith me.\"\n\nMeanwhile Ethel, accompanied by Eadburgh and Bretwul, repaired to the\nroom where Oswald had been laid at rest. Some knowledge of medicine and\nthe art of healing, happily, was possessed by all Saxon gentlewomen.\nAlso there were a few amongst the serfs, who were the lowest class of\nthe peasantry, that had some knowledge of herbs, potions, poultices,\nbandages, and simple remedies and expedients, which were frequently very\neffective, though sometimes mistaken.\n\nOswald smiled a pleasant smile as they entered; but it required no great\nskill or discernment to see that he was weak and suffering. The hectic\nflush upon his countenance, and the short, hurried breathing told but\ntoo plainly that the wound and the weakness were not the worst foes that\nhad fastened on him. He could not fail to note the dismay and alarm\ndepicted on the pale and anxious face of Ethel.\n\n\"Ethel, girl,\" said he, putting as much pleasantness into his tone of\nvoice as he could command, \"never let that sweet face wear so sad a\nlook. The case is not so bad as that--nothing worse than a mere\nflesh-wound; but the damp and exposure on those mountain sides, and that\nlong and horrid home-coming on horseback, has taken the life out of me.\"\n\nBut in spite of his efforts to be cheerful, he could not suppress a\ngroan and a painful contortion of his face.\n\n\"Bretwul,\" said he, uncovering his shoulder, \"for mercy's sake undo\nthose bandages! My arm swells, and they screw me tight as a vice, and\ngive me a sickening pain.\"\n\nEthel, however, advanced, and with firm and nimble fingers undid the\nclumsy bandages, cleaning and washing the festering wound wonderfully\ngently, but resolutely, and without faltering. Without faltering or\nhesitancy also, she bathed and salved, lotioned and bandaged it again.\nOswald, with the passiveness of a tired child, submitted to it all.\n\n\"Ah!\" said he, \"now I've got a chance.\"\n\nBut this done, Ethel's culinary arts were called into requisition, and\ndelicacies from the mere, the flock, or the chase succeeded each other\nwith tempting regularity.\n\n\"If the wound could have had but a week's start of the fever, I should\nhave been hopeful,\" said she to Eadburgh.\n\nBut this was not to be, for next day Oswald became restless, with\noccasional wanderings of the mind, and this was speedily followed by a\ntotal relapse. Never for a moment, by night or by day, except for the\nmost necessary things, did Ethel quit his side; and never was there a\nmoment, by night or day, but either Bretwul or Wulfhere watched by his\nbed. And when the fever was at its height, it was as much as the two\nstrong men could do to hold him in his bed.\n\nDuring this season of mental aberration, he would be at one time engaged\nin mortal strife with his hated rival Vigneau. Anon, he was over seas\nwith Alice de Montfort, a refugee in a foreign land. Then the graphic\nscene enacted in the dungeon beneath the castle, where Alice, torch in\nhand, and alone, saved him out of the hands of her own countrymen, and\ngave him liberty and life, was acted over again, with intense realism of\nvoice and gesture.\n\nFrequently he recoiled, with horror depicted in his countenance, as\nEthel gently smoothed his pillow, or moistened his parched lips. Then he\nwould call vehemently for the fair Norman with the dark eyes and raven\ntresses.\n\nEthel heard all this with agony at heart, and often the tear, unbidden,\ndropped upon the coverlet as she bent over him. Often she would murmur\nto herself,--\n\n\"He thinks not of me. I am but a Saxon girl, to pet and speak gently to.\nWould he were harsh and forbidding, like this stranger! But he is what\nhe is, and God made me a woman, and I will bear this burden, as too oft\na woman must; for he will never know, and that will make it bearable.\"\n\nSo for many weary days and nights the resolute struggle of life and\ndeath for victory went on, and the weary, anxious watchers looked on,\nhelpless, except to pray and hope that favouring Providence would give\nthe victory as they wished.\n\nAt last the crisis passed. Thanks to the wonderful physique and\nrecuperative faculties of the patient, combined with the ceaseless care\nand patient nursing of the Saxon maiden, the strong man vanquished, and\ncast off the malignant foe. Then commenced the slow rallying from the\nutter prostration, and the gradual regaining of strength.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nA VIKING'S LOVE.\n\n     \"Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the\n     grave.\"--Song of Solomon, viii. 6.\n\n\nDuring the time that Oswald was recovering from the prostration\nconsequent upon the fever, he and Wulfhere drew carefully a plan for the\nfortress already determined upon. Every detail was gone carefully over\nand elaborated. In the meantime, also, messengers were despatched far\nand near, and artificers and handicraftsmen rallied to the work.\nSpeedily the foundations were dug, and the outer walls encircling the\nsummit began to rise steadily and rapidly before the persistent and\nenergetic labours of the Saxon refugees. Each one wrought with a will,\nknowing that life and freedom depended upon their ability to raise a\nfortress strong enough to defy their enemies.\n\nEre the Normans were aware of what was going on, a rampart had been\nerected, which was soon to develop into a stronghold, impregnable, and\nsecure against assault. This first line of defence having been raised,\nvigorous attention was given to the interior. Wells were dug, stables\nwere built, habitations also sprang up as by magic. Women and children\nhurried into it, bringing everything they had saved from the desolation\nof the past. Cattle were driven into it at night, and emerged in the\nmorning to feed around its shoulders, pushing their way in sheer\naudacity down into the green valleys, for there were always bands of\nsturdy outlaws in the woods between them and danger--outlaws, who snared\ngame, which literally swarmed in the woods, or cut their timber for\ntheir bows and arrows. For these men the Normans were no match in the\nsolitudes which were familiar to them, and they soon learnt to have a\nsemi-friendliness with them, and to court relationships with the\nhill-men, all of which decidedly made for peace. But to a tacit\nacknowledgment of these outlaws the Norman leaders were bitterly\nopposed. De Montfort feared that this thing would grow until it became a\nmenace to his own position, though he remembered most vividly the words\nused by Oswald on that memorable night when he confronted him in his own\nhouse as though he had dropped from the clouds, when, in burning words,\nthe Saxon told him that they wished to be at peace, but would assert\ntheir right to pasturage, and to freedom. De Montfort also feared the\neffect this thing would have upon William, if once he learnt that his\nsubject was conniving at an incipient rebellion, which might ultimately\nthreaten the peace of the kingdom. So, what between the pleadings of his\ndaughter Alice for peace towards the harassed Saxons, and the sharp\nlesson they had taught him once before, that they were an enemy not to\nbe trifled with on ground of their own choosing, the days and weeks sped\non in delays and hesitation as to how this defiance on the part of a\nhandful of desperate men, who defended themselves with such vigour when\nattacked, should be met; seeing also that they were, upon the whole,\nnon-aggressive and peace-loving when left alone to the pursuit of\npeaceful avocations.\n\nThe Saxons encamped were, nevertheless, a strange and motley company,\nand nothing less than the sagacity, watchfulness, and marvellous\nforbearance of Oswald, coupled with the matchless valour and firmness\nwhich he displayed, would have served to restrain the undisciplined and\nheterogeneous company over whom he ruled. There was a moiety of\ndesperate and blood-thirsty men who were almost incapable of restraint,\nand who were so blinded by their hatred of the Normans that motives of\nprudence or of policy were most hateful to them, and Oswald's efforts to\nenforce self-restraint upon his own followers, and to cultivate friendly\nrelations with the enemy, were gall and wormwood.\n\nSigurd was the acknowledged leader of these, and they, by their dense\nignorance and superstitions, fittingly represented the dark heathenism,\nand plunder, and bloodshed, characteristics of their Norse ancestors.\nThey were utterly unable to realise the fact, which Oswald saw most\ndistinctly, that all hope of wresting the kingdom from the Normans by\nforce of arms was an idle dream, unless the Normans should be involved\nin a struggle with other foes. They clung to their heathenish religion,\nencouraged by their grim old priest Olaf, who, periodically quitting his\ncave in an adjacent valley, haunted the settlement like a hyena on the\nscent of blood, and found little difficulty in stirring up the ferocious\npassions of his followers, often to the verge of open revolt and mutiny.\nOswald surveyed the situation with the eye of a statesman; but the\nreconciling of these turbulent factions to his ideal was a task which\nrequired the utmost efforts of wisdom and valour too, and which\nperpetually threatened the peace of the camp.\n\nThese desperate complications were further intensified into a private\nand personal cause of enmity and hatred on Sigurd's part--as we shall\npresently see--by reason of his strange and fierce love for the fair\nSaxon, Ethel. Despite his passionate endeavours to cast out the deep\nimpression made upon him at his first interview with Ethel, we need\nscarcely say such efforts were utterly vain and futile. She was a\nbeloved and familiar figure to every one in the little colony, and he\nwas necessarily brought frequently into intercourse with her; and day by\nday he became more deeply involved. The love of the fierce Viking had\nthis quality in common with more ordinary mortals; it was like a\nquagmire, in which, being once fairly entangled, the more he struggled\nto get free of it the deeper he sank, until all hope of extrication\ntherefrom became perfectly impossible.\n\n\"Ethel, girl,\" said he, addressing her one day with the bluntness which\nwas a characteristic of his whole nature and disposition; and his\nlove-making was of a piece with his whole disposition, \"I have no skill\nin the art of making love, or, what is pretty much the same thing, a\nmake-believe of love, and I much fear me my rough manners and rough-hewn\nlimbs commend me not to fair maidens like thyself. But since I saw thee\nfirst, feelings have been kindled in my breast which I thought were\ndead, and utterly out of place in these times. But scorn me not, Ethel.\nThou art as surely of Viking extraction on thy father's side as I am;\nand though I have no gentle manners, there is no honied falseness in my\nnature, and perhaps through thy gentle influence I may come to love the\nways of peace.\"\n\nThis confession of love on the part of Sigurd was the very thing Ethel\nhad been dreading to hear; and her confusion and sickness of heart were\npitiably manifest.\n\n\"Alas! my lord,\" said she, \"these are times when the funeral rites for\nour dead are more opportune than the marriage rites. I could not think\nof wedlock in times like these, when children born may well-nigh curse\nthe day when they first saw the light.\"\n\n\"But I will carry thee to the court of Malcolm of Scotland, where thou\nshalt dwell in safety. My sword will receive a hearty welcome by him.\nThen, if peace should come, we may return to our own land.\"\n\n\"My lord, you know not what you ask. These are not times for love. With\nmy country laid desolate, and my people scattered, I can indulge no\naffection but for these.\"\n\n\"My love for my country is as great as thine, and wedlock between us two\nneed not diminish our love for our country.\"\n\n\"Say no more, my lord. You know not what you ask. 'Tis painful to me,\nfor I am not free to love.\"\n\nSigurd started as if stung by a serpent.\n\n\"Ah! what a dolt I must be, not to see it! How could a maiden come in\ncontact with _him_, and not love him. Well, Ethel, Sigurd would throw no\nshadow across thy path. Happy be thy love, and its consummation timely!\"\n\n\"My lord, I have no lover!\" said Ethel, hastily leaving the room.\n\nSigurd slowly paced the room, in profound meditation. The memorable\noccasion when he found Oswald and Wulfhere in the company of the two\nNorman women passed in review before his mental vision, and its\nsignificance laid hold upon his mind as it had never done before.\n\n\"Can it be,\" said he, \"that _he_ should be insensible to such a\ntreasure, and should add to his culpable blindness the base treachery of\nseeking an alliance with the Norman supplanter?\"\n\nThe thought of this stirred his passions into fury, and he nervously\ngrasped the hilt of his sword, as though he meditated vengeance on some\nfoe. \"I will watch this thing, and if it be as I fear I will no longer\nally myself with him; but woe be to him if my arm be stronger than his,\nfor so base a betrayal can only be washed out in blood!\"\n\nSo saying, he sallied forth, pacing round the fortifications in quest of\nOswald, where he learnt that he and Wulfhere had betaken themselves\ntowards the valley. Away he sped him, intent on probing this matter to\nthe bottom; and instinctively his footsteps turned toward the spot where\nonce before his ire had been roused at the conduct of the two he sought.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nA VILLAIN DEMANDS HIS WAGES.\n\n    \"Oh pilot! 'tis a fearful night;\n    There's danger on the deep.\"\n\n    _The Pilot._\n\n\nCount De Montfort strolled leisurely to and fro on the rising ground in\nfront of the castle, rapt in admiration of the fine scenery and noble\nwoods which environed it on all its sides. Then he turned to take a\nleisurely survey of the massive proportions of the castle, and, with a\nveteran soldier's instincts, fell to a planning of additional\nfortifications, so as to increase its impregnability. Whilst thus\nengaged, a figure seen in the distance, caused the complacent smile to\nvanish from his countenance, and his visage grew dark with a frown. The\nintruder was none other than Baron Vigneau, who, after salutations,\nsaid,--\n\n\"When may I expect the fulfilment of the promise made to me at York,\nCount? Lady Alice has now had some months of preparation, and now the\ntime has come when our nuptials should be celebrated.\"\n\n\"Well, what says the lady, Baron? If you have her consent there need be\nno further delay. I have no opposition to offer, though, as Alice's\nfather, and wishing her happiness, I am bound to say I wish you would\neschew the wine-cup. I note with pain and concern this most unwholesome\nhabit grows apace.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, Count! Many thanks for your homily! But to the point in hand.\nI have no recollection that the lady's consent had aught to do with the\nbargain. Soldiers usually dispense with ceremonies of that description,\nand, by your consent, we will still consider it apart from her\nladyship's wishes or whims. 'Twas, I think, a part of the wages of\nservices rendered.\"\n\n\"But, as a soldier and a knight, making professions of gallantry and the\nrest of it, you would not think of forcing a lady's hand? Surely you\nhave opportunities of winning her as a soldier should. I have expressly\nstated that such are my wishes. What more can you expect of me?\"\n\n\"Finely spoken no doubt! But I would remind you of a matter which you\nknow well enough without a reminder, that I have not the manners of a\nsimpering gallant, nor am I used to chanting love-songs beneath my\nlady's window. I am a soldier, a blunt and unpolished one maybe. Alice\nhas been thoroughly well spoiled, that is plain enough, by prating nuns\nand her convent life. Her head has been filled with their silly notions\nof romance, and religious scruples. My rough life does not fit me for\nplaying the part of a dangling <DW2>, or uttering canting lies about\nreligion. Bah!\"\n\n\"I cannot force my daughter into this marriage, Baron. Win her if you\ncan,\" said the Count peremptorily.\n\n\"A bargain is a bargain, force or no force, and I'll have it kept. Any\ncanting parade of virtue will not go down with me; I'm too familiar with\nyour antecedents. If this promise is not ratified promptly, I'll\nstraight away to the king and expose your foul conspiracy, and I shall\nhave the pleasure of seeing your head dangling from the gate within a\nweek. Then the haughty wench, your daughter, will rue the day she vented\nher scorn on me.\"\n\n\"Cowardly villain!\" said the Count. \"Come with me to yonder copse, and\nI'll measure steel with you.\"\n\n\"Not quite so fast, master. I keep my mettle for other purposes. We'll\ntry steel as a last resort. But in the meantime, I'd rather have your\ndaughter than your blood; and nothing prevents but the lack of your\ncommands. Let these be forthcoming, and all is well; but I'll not be\ntrifled with, mark me!\"\n\nSo saying, he strode away, leaving De Montfort beside himself with rage\nand fear.\n\nThe same evening, as he and Alice sat together, he said,--\n\n\"Alice, I told you some time ago that I had betrothed you to Baron\nVigneau, and I told you some other matters connected therewith, which I\ntrust you have not forgotten. He has been claiming the fulfilment of my\npromise, and becomes very wroth and threatening. I trust you are\nprepared now to accept him at once.\"\n\n\"I cannot say that I am, father; the acquaintance I had with him in\nNormandy before the wars caused me to form but a poor opinion of him. I\nfind that the life he has been leading since the wars began has\nbrutalised him. His sottish habits, also, have become most outrageous.\nIf you wish me to marry, let me make my choice. Or, better still, let me\nstay with you in singleness. You need some one to keep house for you,\nI'm sure.\"\n\n\"Alice, I told you I had betrothed you to Vigneau, which is a matter\nbinding upon my honour; and 'tis a debt you must discharge. The Baron is\nnot worse than many others whose life has been cast in these troublous\ntimes. He is also famous at the joust; his deeds of arms, also, and his\npersonal prowess, are known throughout the land. Pray what would you\nhave in a husband?\"\n\n\"Father, I have no feelings but of abhorrence for him. If I may, I would\nvery much prefer retiring to a convent, as I have said before, to\nspending my life with one so besotted and utterly lost to human feeling.\nIf this will relieve you of your bond, pray give me permission, and I\nwill prefer no other request.\"\n\n\"Alice, it does not suit me that you should retire to a convent, or do\nanything but _obey me_. Let me tell you, once for all, these mock\nheroics, these school-girl sentiments and bookish whims, cannot be\ntolerated. Your mother was betrothed to me by her parents, who never\nthought of asking her consent. I tell you once for all, this marriage\nshall be consummated this day three months. So let this suffice.\"\n\nAlice retired to her room well-nigh heart-broken at her father's\nharshness and the hateful prospect of a union with Vigneau. She laid her\nface in her hands and sobbed most distressingly, defying Jeannette's\nutmost efforts to console her.\n\n\"What shall I do, Jeannette? I shall never wed Vigneau! I shall be\nsweetly sleeping in that still pool beneath the hazel trees, where we\nmet the Saxon the other day, on the morning that Vigneau claims me for\nhis bride.\"\n\n\"Hush, my lady! don't say that. Let us go again in the morning. Perhaps\nwe may meet those Saxons again, and they will advise us what to do.\"\n\nJeannette dared not give utterance to the thing that was uppermost in\nher own mind. But as a simple matter of fact, the well-developed manhood\nof Wulfhere the Saxon had never been wholly absent from the waking\nthoughts of this coquettish damsel since that romantic interview she had\nhad with him, when her ears tingled with a newborn delight, as she\nlistened to his flattery in the wood by the riverside. She was, as a\nmatter of fact, ready for any desperate enterprise or expedient that\nwould result in another interview.\n\n\"We will, Jeannette. Perhaps we shall see the Saxon knight again. I had\nbeen taught to believe these Saxon chieftains were loutish boors. But I\ncan assure you I found him anything but that.\"\n\n\"Yes, lady; and the other chieftain, who was with me, was a very\nhandsome man, and spoke so pleasantly to me. I have heard, too, lady,\nthey have built a fortress on the mountains. He asked me to be his wife,\nbut I thought we should have to run wild in the woods, and sleep in\ncaves; but if they have a fortress to live in, I would run away and be\nhis wife, if you would run away with the other chieftain.\"\n\nAlice smiled, in spite of herself, at Jeannette's willingness,\nevidently, to take Wulfhere pretty much on trust. But, nevertheless, the\nmorrow found them wending their way to the river, where, getting out the\nboat, they pulled away up stream.\n\n\"I wonder if the Saxon, will see us, Jeannette?\"\n\n\"If he should come, he will be sure to have his comrade with him. Don't\nyou think he will?\"\n\n\"I think you are in love with that tall bondman of the Saxon\nchieftain's, Jeannette.\"\n\n\"He is not a bondman of any one's my lady, for he told me so himself. He\nis a Saxon freeman.\"\n\n\"A 'freeman,' Jeannette. What does that mean, prithee?\"\n\n\"A freeman is next to a knight, I believe; at least, they have lands of\ntheir own.\"\n\n\"Oh, is that so? Well, we shall soon reach the spot where we landed\nbefore. Shall we get out of the boat, think you?\"\n\n\"I think we had better not, my lady, until we see them. What should we\ndo if that fierce Saxon should catch us?\"\n\n\"The Saxon earl told me his people would not harm us--any of them; but\nwe must not be overbold. We are now completely out of sight of the\ncastle; let us pull gently, and keep a sharp look-out.\"\n\nSo steadily they glided underneath the long arms of the trees, sending\nthe water-hens scurrying away into the thick recesses of foliage, or\ndiving beneath the surface, and coming up again on the other side with a\nplash; whilst the snipe and lovely kingfishers, on fleet wing, skimmed\nover the surface into the solitudes ahead.\n\n\"Surely,\" said Alice, \"this is a slice out of Paradise.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jeannette; \"it is lovely. And that's the fallen tree where\nthe Saxon and I sat together.\"\n\n\"Not the Saxon, Jeannette; his follower, you mean.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I don't think he is merely a follower, my lady. I believe they\nare equal; leastways, he is only a little lower in rank.\"\n\nIt is, perhaps, needless to say that since Oswald's recovery, scarcely\nhad a sunny day passed when the placid bosom of the river had not been\nanxiously scanned by the other two persons most interested in a second\nmeeting with these fair Norman women. It is scarcely necessary to say\nalso that two stalwart individuals had seen the slim boat gliding slowly\nup the stream, and, for the last quarter of an hour, had been rapidly\nclearing the distance which separated them from it. We may also say,\nwithout exaggeration, that these frail women met these stalwart Saxons\nwith much less of perturbation than when they last met; though if we\nwere to say that there were no fluttering of hearts, and no crimson\nblushes mounting to the face and neck, and no trembling of limbs, as\nthey reached out their hands to be helped on to the embankment; or if we\nwere to say that Jeannette did not utter a little scream, and clutch\nWulfhere most tenaciously, as the boat gave a treacherous lurch as she\nstepped from it; we should not be faithful chroniclers. Again Wulfhere\nand Jeannette sat on the fallen tree and watched by the boat; whilst\nOswald and Alice sauntered by the river's side, and Alice told her tale\nof coming disaster. We know she did not resist as Oswald's arm lovingly\nencircled her, and he bade her be of good cheer. In low, earnest tones\nthey talked of all that lay in their hearts; and Oswald was able to\nconvince her that the dark cloud ahead would be found to have a silver\nlining. It was truly passing strange that this high-born lady should\nyield herself so unreservedly to this Saxon. There was no reason, or\nprudence, or wisdom in it possibly. But the divine instinct of love,\nwhich is born in--not acquired--but born in and indigenous to every pure\nand unsullied woman's heart, ventured, with sheer and utter abandonment,\nto give her heart to him. The same instinct which revolted in utter\nabhorrence at the thought of contact with the brutal Norman, drove her\nirresistibly to the sheltering arms of the pure-minded and valorous\nSaxon. They laid their plans for further interviews, all the while\nunconscious that eyes, glistening with fury, were peering through the\nbrushwood, and mad hate was rankling in the breast of an unseen foe, who\nscarce could forbear to rush in and execute vengeance on the spot.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nTHE TRYST.\n\n    \"The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.\n    The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea.\n    The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,\n    And leaves the world to darkness and to me.\"\n\n    Gray.\n\n\nFrom the flagstaff on the tower of the castle was to be seen for a\nlittle while at midday a pennant, with long streamers fluttering in the\nbreeze. There was no one on the tower at the time but Alice. What is the\nsignificance of this? Nothing, apparently, but a freak of fancy. But any\none sufficiently observant would notice that Alice takes her stand on\nthe north side of the tower, and, leaning her elbows on the battlements,\nlooks long and eagerly towards yonder grim mountain looming blackly in\nthe hazy distance, whose scarred limestone precipices seem fearful to\nlook upon. But presently there became visible to any one possessed of\nstrong, keen vision, a dark speck of something which had sprung into\nsight against the clear background of heaven's blue. It seemed perfectly\nmotionless in the air, and might be some bird of prey hovering on poised\nwing, and watching for its prey. But it was no bird of prey. Alice gave\nan exclamation of surprise.\n\n\"He sees it,\" she said; \"he will be here to-night. Speed away laggard\nhours that separate me from him! There is music in his voice, and refuge\nin his strong arms and loving heart!\"\n\nShe piously uttered a prayer to the saints to guide him. But perhaps,\nwise one, that prayer was breathed into the idle April breeze--a\ncontribution of nothingness--an impalpable seedling, flung out of a\nneedy human soul, but deposited nowhere, and having fruition never--I\ntrow not, for prayers, like curses, have an assured harvest, and are as\nsurely reaped by the sowers, no inspired vision being requisite to see\nit done from day to day.\n\nThe laggard hours quickly passed, and the lingering twilight deepened\ninto sombre night. The thrushes which carolled to each other from tree\nto tree as the deepening gloom gathered about them, as though loth to\nsay good-bye to the joyous day, had long since sought their\nresting-place for the night. Standing beside the old oak in the wood\nmight be seen the form of Oswald, listening intently for sound of human\nvoice or human footfall. Nothing disturbs the silent night air that\ngives uneasy thoughts to the listener, though there are many sounds\ndistinctly audible to one so familiar with nature, and the woods are\nmost alive now that man has gone to his rest. There is the hurried\npattering here and there and everywhere, of game and vermin, or the\nunhurried crawl of the urchin as he issues from his bed in quest of\nfood. Overhead the bats are flitting in and out amongst the branches of\nthe trees, followed by the heavy beat of the owlet's wing, whose eyes,\ncatlike, are gleaming like live coals in the darkness. In the distance\nthe sharp yelp of the fox proclaims Reynard also to be abroad and busy.\n\nNone of these sounds give uneasiness to Oswald. On the contrary, they\nare to him most reassuring. He turns his gaze towards the tower, the\noutlines of which are clearly marked against the starlit sky. Soon he\nsees a dark figure move towards the battlements, and peer over on the\nside on which he stands. Perhaps some sentinel keeps watch from the\nlonely heights whilst his comrades below are resting in peace. No; that\nis no sentinel, for the figure waves something to and fro for a moment\nor two, then slowly sinks behind the battlements. On witnessing the\nsignal, Oswald quickly mounts the tree, and disappears in its cavernous\nrecesses. The journey along the underground passage is quickly\ntraversed, and he emerges on the battlements, and the muffled figure is\nfolded in his arms, and a loving kiss is implanted on her cheek.\n\n\"What ails you, Alice, dear? No ill news, I trust?\"\n\n\"Alas! I have only ill news for you, dearest, and I know you are hard\nbeset without my adding other troubles to your perplexities.\"\n\n\"Hush, darling! Never think _your_ needs add to my perplexities. I never\nfeel so like surmounting everything as when I think I live for you; to\nchampion your cause against all comers, and flaunt defiance in the face\nof your enemies.\"\n\n\"I fear the championing of my cause will bring you into deadly peril,\nperhaps to death.\"\n\n\"If it does, dearest, you gave me my life when an ignominious death\nawaited me. If I die in defence of you, well, I am willing, aye, more\nthan willing. But let us not cherish thoughts like these, for I think a\nmerciful Providence will always reserve a blessing for one like you; so\nlet us have faith, and never doubt the future. I am full of faith and\nhope. Come, tell me what new trouble distracts and disturbs your mind.\"\n\nThen they sat together on an abutment, and Alice, nestling close to her\nvirtuous knight, told of the new complications which had arisen.\n\n\"My father has been very wroth to-day, chiding me roughly because I make\nnot preparations for my nuptials, and threatening my marriage to Vigneau\nby force.\"\n\n\"He is still determined, then, to press on this hateful and heathenish\nalliance?\"\n\n\"Yes; but judge him not too harshly, dearest. I am well assured he loves\nme dearly, in spite of this seeming harshness. I have seen again and\nagain a frown on his brow, and heard bitter words break from his lips at\nthe intrusion of Vigneau. I am satisfied that if it were not for the\nhateful power he wields over my father, I should not be forced into this\nalliance. But Vigneau claims my hand as the price of peace.\"\n\n\"You still hate this man, and abhor a union with him, Alice, dear? Is it\nnot so?\"\n\n\"I loathe him with my whole heart, and would rather die a hundred deaths\nthan marry him. But what it may be my duty to do, for my father's sake,\nI know not.\"\n\n\"And will it come to this, that, as the price of peace, you are to be\noffered to this devil incarnate--to one whose hands are red with the\nblood of murdered men and women, and whose life is one coarse round of\nbrutal indulgence?\"\n\n\"The prospect is most sickening. But what can I do in an extremity like\nthis?\"\n\n\"Rest assured, my love, you will not do that,\" said Oswald, drawing his\nsword. \"Here is a trusty friend which will cut this Gordian knot, if it\nbe not unloosed by more peaceable means. This Vigneau owes his\nvillainous life a hundred times told, for the foul crimes he has\ncommitted, and is committing from day to day, upon my helpless\ncountrymen. The sword has been hanging over him a long time, and it will\nfall before he claims you as his bride. Though he live to stand at the\naltar with you, he shall not compass his vile ends, for I will confront\nhim there; and rest assured I will make sure of _him_ if it be the last\nstroke my trusty sword shall ever make. Drive the matter to the utmost\nverge of delay, and if relief come not in the meantime, it will come ere\nthe extremity. But come now, let us think of other things, for this\nmatter, I see, sits like a grievous nightmare upon your spirits. I am\npleased to be able to report upon the forward state of the fortress on\nthe hill.\"\n\n\"But, alas! I have ill news for you with regard to that matter. It was\npartly on that account I summoned you from the hills to-night.\"\n\n\"What is it, dearest? Come, unburthen your mind of all troublesome\nmatters. I can assure you, nevertheless, that we are now very\nindifferent as to what steps may be taken.\"\n\n\"But I am afraid this will be serious. The king is now at York with a\nlarge contingent of his men-at-arms, and a number of mercenaries, intent\non quelling any attempts at insurrection on the part of the Saxons. One\nof his Bodes[2] arrived here this morning, asking for all information\nwith regard to the attitude of your people. My father is having a\nparchment writing made out, with full particulars of your doings, and\nasking for help to reduce your fortress, and slay your rebellious\nfollowers. I fear me if William exerts himself he will not desist, until\nhe has captured your stronghold; and he will give no quarter to those\nwho try to thwart him.\"\n\n[Footnote 2: Messengers.]\n\n\"This is, indeed, serious news, and we must move heaven and earth to\nprevent this despatch reaching its destination. Do you know when the\nmessenger will depart?\"\n\n\"The day after to-morrow, I heard my father say. See, I have here a copy\nof the despatch. I drew it up at father's dictation.\"\n\n\"Many thanks, my dear. We must devise some expedient to meet this\nemergency. I think I know a sly rogue who will, either by hook or crook,\ncircumvent the king's messenger. But no time must be lost. Give me a\nparting kiss. Ah! get you to bed, you trembling puss, and may sweet\nsleep enfold you in his gentle arms! Adieu, adieu, for a little while.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\nBADGER CRACKS THE NORMAN'S PATE.\n\n    \"Those who in quarrels interpose\n    Must often wipe a bloody nose.\"\n\n    _The Mastiffs._\n\n\nA few miles down the valley from the Norman headquarters at the castle,\nand following the trend of the river--because there was on its banks to\nbe found a path, or track, very irregular, it is true, but which was\nmade to serve the purposes of pedestrians, and which was little\nfrequented--a Norman runner, or messenger, the bearer of De Montfort's\ndespatch to the Conqueror, was steadily pressing on towards his\ndestination. He had had a sharp walk along a road none of the best, and\nthe springiness was beginning to disappear from his tread. He carried a\nsword by his side. Over his shoulder there was fastened a wallet\ncontaining provisions, and a long bow with a small quiver of arrows. In\nhis right hand he carried a quarterstaff, which he used as a\nwalking-stick. This latter weapon was much affected by the Normans, they\nhaving learnt its use from the Saxons, and it was now inseparable from\ntheir rough games and amusements, it being singularly adapted to call\nforth the powers of strength and dexterity of the wielders of it, whilst\nits vigorous application seldom resulted in anything worse than bruises\nand ruffled tempers. Ahead of this Norman, and quite unobserved by him,\nthere was patiently lying in wait a remarkable being, who was quietly\npeering over the top of a knoll which commanded a view of a turning in\nthe road. His dress plainly proclaimed him to be a child of the forest\nand the chase, his weird and outlandish appearance being simply\nindescribable. He sprang to his feet with remarkable agility as the form\nof the Norman runner rounded the corner into view. He fell into the\npath, and affected to journey as the stranger did, though as yet the\nNorman had not got a glimpse of him. As he went slowly trudging along,\nhe burst into a merry ditty, trolling it right lustily. The burden of\nhis doggerel ran something like the following:--\n\n    \"My song is of a palmer bold,\n      Who footed it o'er the lea.\n    A monkish buck to him stepp'd up,\n      'What's the news, my man?' quoth he.\n\n    \"'Bad news! Why, wine is getting scarce,\n      And venison, too, I trow.\n    And this I know the Normans vow;\n      They are eat and drunk by you.\n\n    \"'And paunches measuring a cloth-yard's girth,\n      They tap them with lance or spear;\n    For good old sack is kept in stock\n      By such, the Normans swear.'\n\n    \"'Then take my bottle, thou palmer bold,\n      My venison pasty too.\n    I'll fast and pray, and hair-shirt wear,\n      As a pious monk should do.'\"\n\nThe strange singer affected to be totally oblivious of the approach of\nthe Norman, for he accompanied his song by a vigorous twirling of his\nquarterstaff, ever and anon flinging it into the air and catching it\nagain. So he kept trudging along all the while, as merrily as a cricket.\nHe was apparently greatly startled when the Norman accosted him in the\nfollowing unceremonious fashion:--\n\n\"Hilloa, old weazen-face! you appear to be in a wonderfully merry mood\nthis morning. What is't makes you wag your tail at such a rate this\nmorning, eh?\"\n\n\"I give you good morning, fair sir. My obedience to your honour. Give me\na moment; you quite startle me. What was your honour saying to me?\"\n\n\"What is it makes you so merry, pray?\"\n\n\"Why, it is better to be merry than sad; and, begging your pardon for\nbeing so bold, but I have that about me would make a man merry if he had\na foot in the grave.\"\n\n\"Oh, aye, that is it makes you so merry, old bogskipper, is it? I\nthought you were going sweethearting.\"\n\n\"Marry, no! Did you ever see as old a dog as I am amuse himself by\ncatching his tail. Mark me, I have in my wallet good barley-bread, and a\nstout collop of venison; and in my case I have a stiff supply of old\nFlemish wine,\" said he, tapping a huge leathern bottle he carried. \"So I\nwill be merry while it lasts, anyhow.\"\n\n\"I warrant, too, you have had that snout of yours to the neck of that\nbottle pretty frequently, old fellow, eh?\"\n\n\"Thou art in error, friend; grossly in error. Such words are a grave\nreflection upon my character for sobriety. But it is only fair to say\nthat I have smelt at it occasionally as I came along; but I never drink\nexcept I'm thirsty, begging your pardon, fair sir--only when I'm\nthirsty.\"\n\n\"Thirsty, eh? And how oft does that sensation come on? Not a week\nbetween, I'll go bond.\"\n\n\"No, I grant you this much. I always seem to have a parched sensation at\nthe pit of my stomach when wine or ale is about; and I have noticed this\nfrequently, good wine seems to go straight to the spot. It is a very\nsoothing medicine if it be applied regularly, and pretty oft, so as to\nkeep my stomach nice and moist.\"\n\n\"Well, I think you might ask a thirsty comrade to have a taste of your\nwine, anyhow, old sucker. 'Tis a very small favour, that.\"\n\n\"Not so fast, my buck; don't jump your fence afore you come to't! First\nfee your priest, then have your shriving. How should I know whether thou\nbeest a comrade or no. Dost thou see, to give good wine to a bad fellow\nwere to waste good liquor, and there is no sin in the calendar half so\nbad as to waste good liquor. Marry, 'twere mortal sin.\"\n\n\"Ho, ho, my master's all! Dost thou know, old fellow, when an ass kicks\nhis heels he inquires for the cudgel. Come, now, what if I lay siege to\nthy weazen carcase, and carry off thy bottle, and flay thy carcase for\nthee into the bargain. How then?\"\n\n\"Easy there, my hearty!\" said the stranger, twirling lustily his staff.\n\"I trow I would flatten thy crown with my staff ere thou take my bottle;\nthough 'twere pity truly to flatten thee any more above thy shoulders,\nfor, gramercy! I take it thou would be welcome where flats are wanted.\"\n\n\"I perceive thou art a stout rogue enough when driven to a push, and\nsaucy into the bargain. But I can stop thy brag, my cock-a-loup, pretty\nhandy, I doubt not.\"\n\n\"That may be, or that may not be, which signifies nothing. But just let\nme point out to thee, by way of caution, that my staff is harder than\nthy pate, anyhow. So, in a friendly sort of way, I would advise thee to\ntake no unnecessary risks.\"\n\n\"Risks, eh? Ha, ha, ha! And from such a swag-belly as thou art! There\nare not many risks, I flatter me.\"\n\n\"Very well, then; since thou wilt not be advised, take thy staff for a\nfriendly bout,\" said the Saxon, unstrapping his wallet and leathern\nbottle, and laying them on the ground. \"If I crack thy pate, thou shalt\nhave half my wine; and marry, if thou crack mine thou shalt have the\nwhole, for I love a bout with the staff almost as well as I like Flemish\nwine.\"\n\nNow the Norman prided himself upon his prowess with the staff. He was\nalso a span taller than the Saxon. The uncouth garments of the latter,\nalso, made him appear as though much beyond the time of youth, and so\ndisguised his stout limbs that the Norman could scarcely conceal his\ncontempt for such an opponent. So he readily accepted the challenge, and\nat once the pair were toe to toe, and dealing blow or parry with right\ngood will. The Saxon did not appear to very great advantage at the\ncommencement of the fray. Frequently he received slight blows here and\nthere, at which the Norman was visibly elated, and he led the attack\nwith much vigour, and equal recklessness. The Saxon seemed to shrink\nfrom the onset, but there was a sly humour lurking about his wicked grey\neye which was very ominous. Eventually taking a mild blow, without\nparrying, from his foe, the Saxon put a giant's strength into his arm,\nand like a thunderbolt his staff came down with a crash upon the\nNorman's skull, cutting open his head, and knocking him senseless on the\nground.\n\n\"Poor fellow!\" said Badger, for it was he. \"You don't know how sorry I\nfeel to have to give you a crack like this; but less would hardly do the\nbusiness.\"\n\nHe quickly undid the Norman's doublet, and took from an inside pocket\nthe sealed message from De Montfort. Then he deposited a similar one in\nits place. Next, he went down to the river and steeped a cloth in the\nwater, then gently bathed the Norman's head, and staunched the bleeding,\nalso carefully drawing the hair over it to hide the wound as much as\npossible. He next poured down his throat some of the Flemish wine he\ncarried. The Norman slowly opened his eyes, and stared about him with a\ndazed, unmeaning look.\n\n\"All right, my gallant fellow,\" said Badger. \"Here you are. Have another\ntaste of my bottle.\"\n\nThe Norman took a good long pull, which seemed to revive him\nconsiderably. By degrees the whole scene came back to his stunned\nsenses, and mechanically he put up his hand to his head, and felt the\nwound.\n\n\"You hound!\" said he. \"You've cracked my skull!\"\n\n\"Not a bit of it, my hearty! Your skull is not so easy to crack. The\nskin is peeled a little, that is all, and a day or two will put it right\nagain.\"\n\n\"I trow not, nor a week or two either. You villain! You meant to brain\nme, I do believe!\"\n\n\"Not a bit of it, comrade. Why, if I meant you harm, what so easy whilst\nyou have been lying here? The fact is, you beat me black and blue. My\nlimbs will be sore for many a day after this. It was the first time I\nhad touched you; and you were so eager to knock me out of it that you\nleft your head unguarded. Why, man, you had the best of it up to the\nlast stroke.\"\n\nBy touching up the Norman's vanity by such artful speeches, and by\npouring good wine down his throat, the pair were speedily on good terms,\nand they parted the best of friends, Badger chuckling to his heart's\ncontent as he struck off on a short cut for the hills.\n\nIn the meantime, Oswald waited anxiously at an appointed place for the\ncoming of Badger, profoundly hoping that his mission would be\nsuccessful. He knew that, excepting some untoward accident had happened,\nBadger would hang on to the heels of his man until, by either fair or\nfoul means, he secured the despatches. But he himself had prepared for\ndrastic means, if stratagem had failed. For failure to intercept the\nmessage would probably mean disaster to the little Saxon colony on the\nhill. His mind, however, was greatly relieved as he beheld Badger in the\ndistance with beaming countenance, hurrying towards him.\n\n\"Well, I'm glad to see you, Badger. How has the business gone? No\nmiscarriage, I hope?\"\n\nBadger made no reply, but, quickly hauling out the parchment from his\nbosom, he handed it to Oswald.\n\n\"I trust this will make better answer than I can muster, my lord.\"\n\nOswald took the parchment, and quickly tore it open, and ran his eyes\nover its contents.\n\n\"All right, Badger. How came you by it? Does the messenger know that you\nhave relieved him of his message?\"\n\n\"He has not the slightest idea. He trudged off, after carefully\nascertaining, as he thought, that his packet was safe.\"\n\n\"You are the slyest rogue in the world, Badger, I do declare. Come, let\nus hear the news, how you came by this paper?\"\n\nSo, as the pair journeyed on together, Badger, in high glee, told how he\nhad circumvented the Norman, and sent him on his journey with a cracked\nskull into the bargain, all of which Oswald highly relished.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\nSAXON AND VIKING AT THE SWORD'S POINT.\n\n                  \"Who overcomes\n    By force hath overcome but half his foe.\"\n\n    Milton..\n\n\nThe burning and rankling feeling of hatred and contempt engendered in\nthe breast of Sigurd against Oswald (as the result of his spying a\nsecond time upon the Saxon chieftain and Alice de Montfort) was of such\na consuming nature that he must needs force himself into the presence of\nEthel at the very first opportunity. In tones fierce and rancorous, he\ntold her the story of Oswald's secret and unprincipled love--as he\nconsidered it--for the fair Norman.\n\n\"Ethel, girl,\" said he, \"I have dogged this renegade myself, and know of\na truth that he holds illicit intercourse with this dark-eyed Norman\nhussy, and that he keeps tryst with her o' nights when honest men are\nabed, deceiving Saxon and Norman alike.\"\n\n\"What have I to do with this, my lord? I pray you pursue this matter no\nfarther,\" said Ethel.\n\n\"All honest men, whether Saxon or Norse, have to do with traitors to\ntheir country. This deceiver professes undying enmity against our common\nfoe, but does not hesitate to betray his country and the Saxon cause to\nwin a smile from this temptress.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Ethel, in firm tones, \"I cannot listen to your harsh\njudgments of him. He is our chosen leader, and I do not hesitate to say\nin your hearing, he is our only possible leader. He is sagacious as\nbrave, and if _he_ cannot rally our scattered and dispirited people,\nthen our cause is hopeless. I do not believe he is a renegade, as you\nsay. He is no traitor to his country, but her most valorous and faithful\ndefender.\"\n\n\"I tell thee, girl, he is in league with this siren! I know of what I\nspeak! How can he prostrate himself before _her_ without despising and\nbetraying his own people?\"\n\n\"My lord, what is this to _me_? If he loves this fair Norman, it is not\nto be wondered at; she gave him his life. She is surpassingly beautiful;\nand she is virtuous and good as well. Listen, my lord, to what the\npalmers tell us of her benefactions, and her kindness to those in\ndistress.\"\n\n\"She supplanted thee, girl, dost thou think of that? She hath stolen\nwhat of right should be thine--what would have been thine, but for her!\nHow canst thou find excuses for this she-wolf and her base paramour?\"\n\n\"My lord, such words are an affront to me. A Saxon maiden does not need\nto go a-begging for a lover.\"\n\n\"Ethel, thou dost tantalise me! Thou art blind. Thy love for him doth\nmake thee mad! But I will be avenged on them both, whether thou approve\nof it or not.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Ethel, drawing herself to her full height, whilst her\neyes flashed fire, \"who told you I loved him? Are you going to make a\npalmer's song about me, and sing it through the whole camp? I will not\nhave you assuming what I have not told you. Let me tell you, once for\nall, a Saxon girl will love where she pleases, and only where she\npleases. Your references are an insult to me!\"\n\nThis was said with all the energy she could command. Then, rising, she\npassed hastily from the room. But scarcely had she closed the door\nbehind her when her strength failed, and she sank exhausted into a seat.\n\n\"Mercy on us!\" shrieked Eadburgh, rushing off for a mug of cold water,\nand dashing it over her face with her fingers. \"Whatever is the matter?\nThat loutish fellow has been making love again, I'll warrant! He'll\ndrive the poor body clean mad if he does not let her alone. Such a great\nmountain of flesh would frighten anybody, let alone a wee bit of a\nlady-like creature as my mistress.\"\n\nSigurd, we need not say, was still further maddened by this additional\nrepulse, and in a rage which would brook no further control, he hurried\noff in quest of Oswald, whom he found superintending the efforts of the\nworkmen. Oswald saw that he was greatly agitated and evidently in a\nterrible passion.\n\n\"A word in thine ear,\" he hissed fiercely to Oswald, as he passed.\n\nOswald followed him until they were beyond the hearing of others.\n\n\"What is thy business this morning, pray?\" said Oswald, who saw quite\nplainly that a rupture was imminent.\n\n\"My errand is to unmask a traitor, and either make an honest man of him,\nor else make an end of him.\"\n\n\"If thou hast business of such import as this--and thy looks betoken\nit--it were best to speak plainly, and come to the point at once.\"\n\n\"My business is with thee, for thou art a renegade, and a trickster;\ndancing attendance on a Norman woman, and bartering thy country's cause\nand thy people's liberties, to win a smile from a trumpery Norman jade.\nNow thou hast it in plain terms.\"\n\n\"Thou liest, Jarl. And once more thy madness passes the bounds of\ntoleration. Let me tell thee I will have no more ebullitions of thy\nungovernable temper, or any more of thy intriguing and sowing of discord\namongst my people. So be pleased at once to betake thyself to thy own\ndomain, or anywhere thou likest, so that thou cross my path no more.\nThere thou art at liberty to act thine own part without let or\nhindrance.\"\n\n\"Ah, finely spoken, no doubt! and smoothly as any Norman courtier could\nmouth it! Thou hast the trick of it, truly. But thou mayest save thy\nfine speeches, and lisp them to thy lady-love, for they win not upon me.\nI will tell thee further,--to put a few leagues of honest Saxon soil\nbetween thee and me will not heal our differences. Nor will I try such a\nremedy unless more wholesome methods fail me.\"\n\n\"There are no differences between us, saving such as are hatched in thy\nmuddy brain, Jarl; and what may be the methods of healing them which\nthou hintest at, I know not. But I see that madman's look in thy eye,\nwith which I am too familiar, and I opine that mischief, aye, deadly\nmischief, is designed by thee, if thy ability to work mischief fail thee\nnot.\"\n\n\"The curse of Skuld be upon thee, traitor! Thou hast guessed rightly, so\ndraw at once and stand upon thy guard, or I will run thee through with\nas little compunction as I would a dog,\" said the Viking, wildly\nbrandishing his sword, and advancing on Oswald.\n\nWhilst this war of words was proceeding, the whole camp was thoroughly\naroused, and curious eyes from every nook and corner anxiously peered\nout to see what this fateful altercation would lead to. But when weapons\nwere unsheathed, the churls eagerly thronged about their respective\nchieftains in feverish excitement. Oswald would fain have settled this\nquarrel without appeal to arms; or if that could not be, then he would\nhave preferred it apart from the clamour and partizanship of the camp.\nSigurd's unbridled rage, however, put this out of the question. Being,\ntherefore, forced into this appeal to the sword, he unsheathed his\nweapon; and the two broadswords, in the grip of two as powerful\nantagonists as the sea-encircled lands of Britain contained, came\ntogether like the shock of lances in knightly charge.\n\nOswald, unlike his opponent, was perfectly cool, though not by any means\nblind or indifferent to the momentous issues involved in this\nlife-and-death struggle. He knew that any yielding, or declining of the\ncombat, either in the interest of peace, or for any other reason, meant\nthe loss of supremacy in the camp. He knew also that Sigurd meant it to\nbe to the death. Now, Oswald fell little short of Sigurd in sheer brute\nstrength and force; and in coolness of temper, agility, and skill, he\nwas much more than a match for his opponent. He saw clearly also that\nthis was to be no child's play, but dead earnest. The look in the black\nand louring visage of Sigurd, and the unmitigated ferocity of his\nonslaught, told more plainly than words that he, at least, would give no\nquarter. Oswald fought a purely defensive battle, having no desire to\ninjure his foeman, but steadily parrying, with masterly skill, the\nthundering blows of Sigurd, steadily giving ground before his eager and\nimpetuous onslaught. None knew better than he, however, that vital\nexhaustion must follow quickly on the heels of such dire rage; and it\nsoon became very evident to him that the pace was telling upon his\nadversary. The rush and eagerness of his attack, and the consuming\npassion within him, told their tale very speedily, for the perspiration\npoured from him in streams, and his countenance became deadly pale. This\nwas soon followed by a palpable weakening of the strength of his wrist;\nand Oswald, watching carefully every stroke of his adversary, awaited\nhis chance. Soon it came; and with one powerful blow he sent the weapon\nfrom Sigurd's grasp. Then, in a climax of senseless rage at losing his\nweapon, Sigurd rushed on Oswald, in the vain endeavour to close with\nhim. But Oswald, turning the flat of his sword, dealt him a powerful\nblow on the head with its broadside, which knocked him senseless and\nbleeding to the ground. He quickly rose to his feet again, however.\n\n\"There,\" said Oswald, coolly sheathing his weapon, \"take thy sword. I\nhave given thee thy life. Be advised, and cross my path no more whilst\nthou art in thy present mood, for, Saxon or no Saxon, there will be but\none more passage-at-arms between me and thee; and thou mayest fare worse\nat our next meeting.\"\n\n\"I offer thee no thanks for thy clemency, nor do I abate one jot of my\nhatred of thee and of thy womanish philandering with Norman wenches,\nwhen thy countrymen's blood cries aloud for vengeance. I warn thee to\ntake heed lest, next time we meet, fortune may not be on thy side.\" So,\nwith a scowl, he hurried off.\n\nOswald remained for a long time with folded arms and bowed head, pacing\nto and fro on the sward, in anxious and troubled thought, which found\nvent in audible words.\n\n\"Too well I understand that foul menace, and well I understand the\nuntamed and implacable nature of this foe in my own household. When our\nforefathers broke upon this land, wild and daring, counting human life\nas nothing, and ruthlessly trampling underfoot their fallen enemies,\nnone more fierce and cruel in all the savage crews were there than he.\nBut this is the question to be settled: were those old days of\nheathenish rites and savage valour the prime days of our race? Our\nforefathers braved all hazards, and they were a conquering people. What\nare we? Are we not abjectly ground down--a subject race, and serfs of a\nbraver people? Is this lingering type of our ancient race in the right?\nWhat are books; and music; and chivalry? What is this lately born love\nof mercy, and justice, and righteousness? Tell me, is it merely a\ndebilitating southern wind come this way, transforming heroes into\neffeminate dreamers, and weaklings? Can I be again a Saxon of the old\ntype?--for I must make my choice here, and now. A Viking, with savage\ninstincts, and implacable, undying hatred of my enemies; indulging in\nruthless butchery and indiscriminate massacre of helpless women and\nchildren. Can I see eye to eye with this man? This question I must\nsettle once for all!\"\n\nHe took a turn, in deep mental conflict.\n\n\"No!\" said he, with concentrated energy; \"it cannot be, come what may. I\nabominate his savagery! I despise his ignorance, and his boorish habits!\nHe and I can never be one in aim and action. Then, I owe my life to this\nfair Norman; such a debt upon my honour calls aloud for a full requital.\nBesides all this,\" said he, whilst his broad chest heaved with the\npowerful emotions which stirred within him, \"waking I hear continually\nthe music of her voice, and I see the love-light in her dark eye.\nSleeping I commune with her, and I dream of days of peace and happiness\nto come. The die is cast, and my path is marked out for me! Perilous it\nis in very truth, with Norman foes destitute of mercy, and, added to\nthem, a foe in this mad Norseman, cruel and revengeful as death. I will\nfollow the light! Let God judge between me and this people he hath given\nme to defend.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\nJEANNETTE AND WULFHERE, OR LOVE'S COMEDIES.\n\n    \"Loving she is, and tractable, though wild;\n    And innocence hath privilege in her\n    To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes,\n    And feats of cunning....\"\n\n    Wordsworth.\n\n\nLest it should be imagined that our coquettish little Frenchwoman,\nJeannette, had been perfectly quiescent all this time, we proceed to\ngive particulars of some little exploits in which she acted an important\npart. Hers was not the disposition to act the _role_ of a lay figure, it\nwill be easily imagined. No. To be engaged in some little romance on her\nown account was as essential to her existence as the breath of her\nnostrils; and the more romantic and unconventional the part she played,\nthe keener the zest with which she entered into it. She had managed to\nsubsist on a little flirtation with Paul Lazaire when nothing better\npresented itself; but now, the tall and handsome Saxon, Wulfhere, had\nfired her inflammable little heart with such a passion as she had never\nexperienced before. Her scanty knowledge of Saxon heraldry and Saxon\ncustoms, coupled with Wulfhere's constant comradeship with the great\nSaxon earl, had caused her to think highly of this doughty Saxon lover\nof hers. It must be confessed, too, that Wulfhere's fine presence, his\nundoubted valour, and the unflagging goodnature and ready wit with which\nhe alternately bantered, flattered, or caressed her, quite carried her\nby storm; and over head and ears in love, at a stroke almost, went this\nborn coquette.\n\nRight skilfully had she woven many a Cupid's net for others, and, with\ntantalising inconsistency, frowned to-day and smiled to-morrow upon her\nhapless victims. The truth was, none hitherto had fired her imperious\nimagination sufficiently. But at last Cupid had transfixed her\nunmistakably; and Jeannette was not the one to stand on ceremony, or be\na slave to petty prudencies. Not she, indeed!\n\nTo have a brush with the chapter of accidents, to set wise\nheads and slanderous tongues a-wagging; added piquancy to the\nromance, and was quite to her liking. Hate has its plots and\ncounterplots, its subterfuges and scheming, its dogged persistence in\nmalevolence; but love also has its expedients, its inventions, its\ncircumlocutions, which, for ingenuity, and for that final grace of all\nplotters--_audacity_, will circumvent its hateful opposite any day. Love\nalso has this final advantage; it dares to be found out, and is never a\nwhit abashed when its devices are discovered.\n\nUpon Wulfhere, too, the advent of this pretty and coquettish little dame\nhad burst like a revelation. The saucy pertness, the mischief and\nmerriment which glanced in her sparkling eye, the feminine gracefulness\nof form and figure, the pretty devices with which she was wont to adorn\nherself, and set off her charms, and the sheer _abandon_ with which she\nrushed into this love affair with him, completely carried him away, and\nhe was speedily as helpless as a slave in her hands. The contrast\nbetween this dainty Frenchwoman, and the Saxon women of the lower orders\nwas simply inexpressible, and Wulfhere, in his Saxon simplicity, was\ncharmed beyond measure.\n\nUpon poor Paul Lazaire the altered demeanour of Jeannette towards\nhimself operated somewhat hardly. Being quite in the dark as to the\nexistence of a new disturbing factor, he was wont to obtrude his\npresence as heretofore upon Jeannette. But alas! Jeannette had now lost\nthe little interest which aforetime she had manifested in Paul. She had,\nin past time, deigned occasionally to bestow a smile, amid her many\nfrowns, on his pretensions; and this occasional smile and ray of\nsunshine had refreshed him, and given him hope. Now, alas! the smiles\nhad all vanished, whilst the frowns deepened in intensity, and were\nfrequently accompanied by a perky toss of the head, and little scornful\nspeeches. 'Tis just like poor human nature, though, the world over; when\nonce enmeshed in Cupid's net, the shaking-off process makes one cling\nthe tighter, and it made poor Paul more and more desperate in his\nendeavours to win a smile from his lady-love. It had become, however,\nnot only unpleasant to Jeannette, but vastly inconvenient, too, to have\nher footsteps dogged as she sauntered through the woods, or by the\nriver's side, as any one who has had experience of these things will\neasily understand. No matter, if Paul caught a glimpse of Jeannette's\ngolden hair as she slid away at still eventide for a quiet walk in the\nwoods, why, poor short-sighted mortal, he was sure to consider his\npresence and protection indispensable; and though he had had latterly\nsome very unpleasant experiences of the fact that Jeannette neither\nconsidered his presence indispensable nor agreeable, yet he persevered\nmost desperately.\n\nSeeing this infatuation on Paul's part, it had occurred to another\nparticipator in these sylvan _tete-a-tetes_ that more drastic expedients\nwould have to be resorted to in order to disillusionise him. So a slight\nrebuff was administered to poor Paul, which had the happy effect of\nsomewhat disenchanting him.\n\nIt was at the still eventide. Jeannette had laid aside the duties of the\nday, and had ascended to the tower. Why? Well, perhaps to see the\nsunset. It was somewhat strange, but somehow, like her mistress, she had\nacquired the habit of reconnoitring at odd hours from the tower of the\ncastle. Probably she and Alice had confidences in these matters. But, be\nthat as it may, a very hasty survey of the beauties of nature on this\noccasion made her hurry off for a closer scrutiny. Paul's vigilant eye\nespied the fair form making for the path by the river's side, and, on\nthe assumption that \"faint heart never won fair lady,\" he would venture\nagain. So he started off in pursuit. It must be confessed he did not\napproach this imperious fair one without many tremblings and\nforebodings. The keen edge of her saucy tongue had greatly dismayed him\nin many a wordy tussle lately, and it had begun dimly to dawn upon him\nthat this waspish habit had something of dislike for him. Poor fellow!\nThese very quakings of heart presaged coming trouble and defeat. 'Twas\nin his case pretty much as the old saw has it:--\n\n    \"Tender-handed touch a nettle,\n    And it stings you for your pains.\n    Grasp it like a man of mettle,\n    And it soft as silk remains.\"\n\nNever, my dear Paul, should you have approached a saucy, perky dame like\nthis, in the character and with the attitude of a milksop. \"Buxom dames\nwill have a buxom wooing.\" \"He who goes trembling will come back\nshambling.\"\n\n\"My dear Jeannette,\" began Paul, most humbly, as he caught up to her, \"I\nwonder how you dare venture in these woods alone.\"\n\n\"Humph! I dare do anything I like to. And pray what have you got to do\nwith it, Master Lazaire? I didn't invite you, I know!\"\n\n\"Well, I thought you ought to have some protection, and I would\naccompany you if you didn't mind.\"\n\n\"But I do mind; so get off with you to that Saxon hussy I caught you\nkissing. You may tell her to wash her face, and comb her hair; and if\nshe could tighten the bands about her skirts to make herself a waist, it\nwould greatly improve her appearance. But she is good enough for you,\nanyway. So be off with you!\"\n\n\"I never speak to those Saxon wenches. I love you alone, Jeannette; you\nknow that well enough. But you seem now as though you hated to see me.\"\n\n\"I know I caught you kissing a Saxon wench, and a precious dirty one\ntoo. I know that well enough, Paul Lazaire. And I'll not have you\nfollowing me at all. So be off, you softhead, and don't be told again!\"\n\nThis style of rebuff was more than poor Paul had calculated upon,\ndubious though he had been, and his temper was considerably ruffled in\nconsequence. His eye assumed an unnatural fierceness as he took in the\nlonely surroundings of the forest, and desperate resolves were quickly\nforming in his breast. Jeannette all the while kept her eye steadily\nfixed on a certain trysting-place, a little ahead, and her nimble feet\nwere on the lilt ready for flight if necessary.\n\nPaul laid his hand on her shoulder somewhat roughly, and said,--\n\n\"Stop a bit, _ma grande dame_. You give yourself too many airs for me\naltogether.\"\n\nJeannette shook him off and at the same time dealt him a stinging slap\nin the face; then she took to her heels like a deer, with Paul in hot\npursuit, in an ungovernable rage.\n\n\"_Voulez vous_ slap me in the face, _vous renarde_? _Vous serez_ taught\ndifferent when I catch you!\"\n\nJust as he was about to lay hands on the fugitive, out sprang Wulfhere\nfrom the thicket, and seizing Paul by the throat, he well nigh shook the\nlife out of him.\n\n\"You villain!\" said Wulfhere. \"You assault defenceless women, do you,\nyou undersized little imp? I'll screw your neck round before I've done\nwith you! It is well I was near, you wretch, you!\"--the sentences and\nthe shakings alternating with equal vigour, until poor Paul scarcely\nknew whether he was on his head or his heels. During this operation,\nWulfhere was steadily backing him to the river's brink, which, having\nreached, he gathered him up and pitched him in, head foremost. Paul came\nfloundering out again, like a half-drowned rat.\n\n\"There!\" said Wulfhere, catching him again by the scruff of the neck;\n\"you may thank your stars I haven't drowned you altogether. Now be off\nwith you;\" administering at the same time a hearty kick to the baser\nparts of Paul's anatomy, which considerably accelerated his retreat.\n\nPaul was not slow to take advantage of this privilege, and he quickly\nput a safe distance between himself and the Saxon. Suddenly, however, it\noccurred to him that he was possessed of a sword. Whipping it out\nsavagely he turned to make a tremendous lunge at the foe, when, oh\nhorrors! he was just in time to see in the distance the long arm of the\nSaxon fondly entwining the slender waist of Jeannette, and the perky\nlittle face, all smiles and blushes, upturned to receive a spanking kiss\nfrom the \"beast of _a Saxon_!\"\n\n\"_Le diable!!_\" he screamed with rage, whilst the veins of his face and\nneck were distended almost to bursting. Off he started in pursuit, sword\nin hand, and bent on executing summary vengeance on the perfidious pair.\nJust at that moment, however, the Saxon gave a backward glance over his\nshoulder, and this had the effect of bringing Paul to a stand instantly.\nNo; he decided, upon second thoughts, that he would not slay them\nhimself, but bring a troop down upon them promptly. So he turned again\nand rushed off towards the castle for reinforcements. But having time on\nthe way to become fully sensible of the pickle he was in, and of the\nvery inglorious part he had played in this encounter, he decided\notherwise. Discretion would be the better part of valour; for if his\ncomrades but set eyes on him in his present state, or heard the story of\nthis exploit, his peace was gone for ever. So he decided, upon mature\nreflection, to say nothing about it for the present, but nurse his wrath\nfor some more favourable opportunity of wreaking vengeance upon them\nboth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII.\n\nA GRIM TEMPLE, A GRIM PRIEST, AND A SAD HEART.\n\n    \"When true hearts lie wither'd\n      And fond ones are flown,\n    Oh! who would inhabit\n      This bleak world alone?\"\n\n    Moore.\n\n\nEthel, deeply muffled and disguised, passed through the little\npostern-gate of the fortress. A word in the ear of the sentinel who\npaced to and fro before it on guard, secured instant obedience. Ethel's\nposition in the fortress was thoroughly understood by all. Her\nself-denial, her patience, and her burning patriotism, were well known\nin this camp of Saxon outlaws. The readiness with which she undertook\npositions involving fatigue and privation, for the cause, was a constant\ninspiration to the common people. They watched her come and go with\nveneration--almost with awe and superstition. They whispered one to\nanother of her strange journeyings by night and day; and many regarded\nthis young chieftainess as a special favourite of the gods. As she\nglided through the gate in the early morning hours, the sentinel thrust\nhis head forth and watched her swiftly descend the <DW72>, like a ghost\nin the darkness. When her form was no longer visible, he closed the\ndoor, and secured it with bolt and bar.\n\n\"Whatever can she be after so early in the morning, and before the day\ndawns? There's something very uncanny about her, tramping over hill and\ndale by night and day like any wolfshead, or wicca-hag.[3] I saw the\nfiery lights in the heavens two hours ago. I wonder what it all means. I\nalmost wish I was safely out in the Bruneswald, where I could hop about\nlike a bird from tree to tree, and where never a Norman could corner\none. This being cooped up like a rabbit in a hole I don't relish. I like\nroom to ply my heels. Howsomever, I'll stick, and stand my chance, for\nthe women can't be whisked through the air; and the children, too, they\nmust have a nest.\" So the sentinel continued his watch, and ruminated on\nthese things.\n\n[Footnote 3: Witch.]\n\nMeanwhile, Ethel sped with quick step over the rugged limestone hills,\nflying before the fastly pursuing dawn like a fugitive who dreaded his\nrevealing power. Ever and anon she turned to measure with her eye the\ndistance she had traversed. The shadowy outlines of the fortress she\nleft behind began to take shape in the distance, and she quickened her\npace. \"I shall soon be beyond the reach of vision,\" she muttered to\nherself. \"I would not have Oswald know my errand to-day for worlds. My\nmind is dark, I know not what I do; but my hope dies, and my heart\nbreaks. Perhaps the Norseman's gods may help me, for the Christian's God\nfails me. 'Tis a dread alternative; but I would know, if I could, what\nFate has decreed for me.\"\n\nFor three weary hours she sped over dreary moors and scraggy,\nprecipitous valleys, which were often little better than ravines.\nPresently she turned into a declivity running between two banked-up,\nprecipitous sides. A little ahead, the two sides curved inwards and came\ntogether, and to all appearance this strange gorge came to an end. Ethel\nmarched forward with unfaltering step, evidently straight at the blunt\nface of the joined limestone rock. But when she reached the extremity,\nthere became visible, what at a very short distance could not be seen,\nan obscure opening behind a jagged projection of rock. It might be, to\nall appearance, merely an entrance to a fox's or wolf's den. Into this\nopening, however, Ethel crept, without halt or questionings of any kind.\nPresently the narrow entrance became larger, and she stood upright, but\ncontinued to descend a rough and precipitous path, until she reached a\nlevel piece of ground. Looking up--the place was simply a stupendous\nslit in the limestone rock, broadening downwards into a considerable\narea. The trees and shrubs growing at the top interlocked from side to\nside, and the light came streaming through a network of branches.\nDesolate and awe-inspiring was the place. At the farther end were two\nmounds of earth, or tumuli, where the grim priests of Thor and Woden\nwere sleeping the long sleep of death--lives which had been literally\nburnt out by the fierce fires of fanaticism, and savage asceticism.\nEthel paused to look around, but everything was still as death; she\nshuddered and drew her cloak tighter about her.\n\n\"The last time I came to this spot my father brought me. I feel his\nuntamed Norseman blood stir within me. The fierce gods of war and\nrevenge and death his Viking ancestors and he worshipped, I dare to\nconsult to-day. 'Tis a cruel necessity, and jars my woman's instincts--I\nfeel it petrifies my heart with unlovely savagery; but the followers of\nthis Christ have slain my people with a wicked and unsparing slaughter.\nThey differ in no way in their wanton cruelty to Norseman and Dane.\nTheir women, too, with their fair faces, dainty fingers, and courtly\nmanners, have stolen the heart of Oswald, and I am slighted and\ndisdained; nothing in my beauty--and suitors of noble lineage have\nsought me ere now for my beauty; nothing in my rank--and it is but\nyesterday that I might have stood amongst the proudest of the land. No;\nI am a withered leaf, battered, bruised, and trampled upon. My love is\nunrequited! My misfortunes are compassionated, but that soothes not my\nwounded spirit, and is but a hateful substitute for the love I crave.\nAlas! nothing avails me, for I am only a heathen woman and an outcast.\nSo, hard driven by my misfortunes and my wounded love, I will consult\nthe gods of my father. The Norseman's gods may help me perhaps. Yet,\"\nsaid she, pausing for a moment, whilst her breast heaved with strange\nand powerful emotions which struggled for the mastery within her, \"my\nmother was Christian and Saxon. She was a follower of this Christ. She\nwas gentle, and taught me to pray to Him. I remember it well, though I\nwas but a child. 'Our Father which art in heaven.' Ah, that is\nwonderfully soothing to me, and not like the prayers I was taught to\noffer to Thor and Odin. But my mother could not have known this Jesus;\nfor if He was merciful and gentle, why do His blood-thirsty followers\ndelight in treachery and bloodshed. 'Twas a part of my cruel fate that\nshe should die in my infancy, for had she lived I might have learned of\nher more perfectly. O ye gods!\" said she, wringing her hands in agony\nabove her head, and looking up to the vaulted roof with tear-blinded\neyes and with agonised entreaty,--\"have pity on me in my\nfriendlessness!\"\n\nThen she sped on with a quick, determined tread. Down each side of this\nweird retreat there were standing out, like grim, ghostly sentinels in\nthe uncertain light, a long line of runic stones, on which were carved\nmany strange devices; rude figures of uncouth and unearthly animals and\nreptiles. She had been taught that these strange hieroglyphics and signs\nhad marvellous potency for good or ill. They could cause passionate\nlove, or undying hatred, in the breasts of those over whom their spell\nwas thrown. Indeed, the power of life and death was wielded by them.\nStrange supernatural agencies and powers were their messengers, and did\ntheir bidding. Starting from the rock, or planted here and there, were\nmany of the ominous rowan trees, or witch-wood. The hemlock and the\nnightshade clustered together, and the nodding cypress dropped sombrely\nover the runic stones beneath them. Ethel glanced nervously round, but\nnot a living thing was visible; not a sound broke the death-like silence\nof the place. Quickly gliding beneath the drooping branches of one of\nthe cypress trees, she fell on her knees before the frowning pillar of\nstone. She had knelt there before by the side of her father, who had\nremained heathen to the last. But to kneel alone, in this very vestibule\nof the Place of Darkness, and to pour out her passionate entreaties to\npowers which she knew were the Powers of Darkness, strange to mercy, and\nwhich had but the attributes of fiends; the ordeal was terrible indeed.\nWith feelings tumultuous and frenzied, she apostrophised the weird and\nforbidding emblem before her.\n\n\"O ye gods of my fathers, whether ye be Powers of Light or of Darkness I\nknow not. Pity my ignorance, and my apostasy, for I have turned to this\nJesus whom the Christians worship, and He has failed me, and turned my\njoy into mourning. My father and my brother have been slain by the\nfollowers of this Jesus. My home is made desolate, and I flee for life\nand honour from these Christian fiends. There is one also who might have\nbeen my lover, who is bravest amongst the brave, and most chivalrous\namongst the chivalrous; who is gentle as a sunbeam, and tender as my own\nlost mother, yet strong as any tower in the storm. He is lost to me\nthrough the subtle arts of their women. My life has become to me but a\nliving torment. Can ye turn again the heart of Oswald to me? 'Tis said\nye can turn even hatred into love. I know it is unmaidenly to plead for\na love I cannot inspire, but I can bear this burden no longer alone, and\nI would ye could give me favour in his eyes, or give me a long home in\none of these sepulchral mounds.\"\n\nShe started to her feet with a shriek, as a deep voice saluted her from\nbehind,--\n\n\"Waes hael, Viking's daughter!\"\n\nShe hastily turned, and behold there stood before her Olaf, the aged\npriest of this Vikings' temple, to whom for a couple of generations the\nheathenism and savagery of the countryside had repaired for ghostly\nconsolation, and into whose ears had been poured the secrets of fierce\nloves and fiercer hatreds of these descendants of the Norsemen. He had\nbeen the grim dispenser of dark and mystic rites and potent spells to\nweirdly savage and credulous votaries. A strange being surely to claim a\nplace in times so advanced as these! He was a living embodiment and\npersonification of a bygone era, and so totally destitute of all\nhumanising instincts that he might have slid down the ages,\nglacier-like, from prehistoric times--when men dwelt in caves, and\ngnawed the flesh from the bones of their prey like wild beasts--without\never having come in contact with the outermost fringe of civilisation; a\nViking of the Vikings in savagery and blood. His head was uncovered, and\nhis long and matted grey hair fell over his shoulders. His form was\nshrunken and racked with rheumatic pains, from his long exposure and\nunlovely life. Long, deep furrows ploughed his face, and the long,\npowerful, and uncleanly teeth stood away from the shrunken cheeks,\nwhilst his sunken eyes gleamed like the eyes of some savage beast of\nprey. He was a visible and concentrated embodiment of the _war spirit_\nin its unrelieved and unredeemed essentials. No touch of pen or pencil,\nhowever graphic, could depict, in all his hideous grimness, this\nstranded relic of a bygone age of savage lawlessness and force, who\nseemed to be but half a dozen removes from the tooth-and-claw methods of\nwild beasts.\n\n\"Ha! ye are come at last, are ye?\" he hoarsely croaked. \"Ye are come\nnow, when ye find that this strange God, this Christ of whom the\nChristians speak, has proved to be no God, and cannot save ye! But the\ngods of your fathers have given ye over to desolation because ye have\nforsaken them. Ha, ha, ha! I could laugh at ye now! Ye despised the old\npriest, did ye not? ha, ha, ha!\"\n\nAs the harsh, grating voice of the priest fell upon her ears, Ethel\nalmost cowered in terror before him. At sight of her terror, the old\npriest somewhat relented his fierceness.\n\n\"Hist to me,\" said he. \"Ye are a Viking's daughter, after all, and come\nof a stock whose deeds our Sagas tell of, though the Christian taint has\nmixed too freely with your father's blood. It does my old tired bones\ngood, nevertheless, to see ye come back again to me once more. I have\nbeen very lonely and forsaken, for my fellow priests are all lying\nbeneath these mounds. I buried the last myself not a month agone. See!\nthe mound is newly heaped. I shall soon be gone also, and there will be\nnever a priest at hand to give me back into the arms of mother earth, to\nreveal to ye the dark mysteries of Valhalla, or to call from the land of\nthe dead the Sein-loeca,[4] to speak with you. Viking's daughter, are\nye now aweary of following this strange God of the Christians?\"\n\n[Footnote 4: Apparition.]\n\n\"Alas! I know not what to do, priest! I am as desolate and forsaken as\nye are. I would have the heart of Oswald, the Saxon chieftain, turned\ntowards me. If ye have any charm that will give me favour in his eyes, I\ncovet it, priest.\"\n\n\"Ah, but this Oswald is Christian; ye do not well in seeking thus to\nfurther dilute the Viking blood that flows in your veins. Is there no\nhardy Norseman ye can mate with? and I can help ye.\"\n\n\"None, father! I gave my heart to this valiant Saxon long ago; but alas!\na Norman woman has won his love, and when he comes into my presence now,\nI see that there is always a far-away look in his eye, and I know he is\nlooking in imagination upon the dark-haired Norman he loves more than\nme. He shuns his couch to keep nightly tryst with her. I have dogged his\nsteps, and watched them in the starlight nights, pacing the battlements\nof the castle in loving converse, and in loving embrace. He is kind and\ngentle to me, but there is none of the subtle tones of love so dear to\nus women when once our heart is won. Men say I am fair; but have ye any\ncharm to make me fair to _him_? It matters not what men may say, or what\nthe multitude may say. There is but _one_ man in all the world, and if I\nam not fair to _him_, why then the sun goes down on all my hopes, and\nleaves naught behind but the long black shadows of despair! Ah! I fear\nme, priest, it is in my spirit! There is no charm for him in the passion\nand frenzy, the fire and restlessness, of my Viking spirit. This\nvoluptuous southern maiden, with her courtly manners and her gentle\nspeech, has touched a chord in his heart which never responds to the\nSaxon maiden!\"\n\n\"Girl, ye are no Saxon maiden! ye are a Viking's daughter! I claim ye\nfor the old race that has swept every sea, and made the Viking name a\nterror to all lands. I will not have ye despise the fierce spirit of\nyour race that lives in ye! Listen. I know a Viking of the old stock, a\ntrue descendant of our heroes whose mighty deeds our Sagas tell. He hath\na passion for ye deep and fierce, and pure as a Viking's love should be.\n'Tis Sigurd of Lakesland, who was here but yestere'en. Let me plight\nyour troth with him, and there shall spring a progeny like unto our\nforefathers, who will sweep the infamous Norman brood into the sea, and\nmake the cowardly Saxon cower at the feet of the Norseman, as in the\ndays gone by.\"\n\n\"Ye speak, priest, as though a maiden's heart were like a willow bush,\nto veer about as any idle wind may blow, or so gross a thing that it may\nbe huckstered for a consideration, or be cast as a mere makeweight into\nthe scale of policy. Never dream, priest, that this is a possible\nremedy; for I have nothing to offer Sigurd or any other. If ye cannot\ntell me that I shall be Oswald's bride, then I will be wedded to my\npeople, and I will serve my country till death comes to free me.\"\n\n\"A curse on the evil times I have lived to see, girl!\" said the priest\nsavagely. \"This simpering sentiment is not like the love of a Viking\nmaiden at all! The sturdiest and fiercest warrior was wont to be the\nchoice of our maidens in the old days. What charm would ye have? There\nis but one charm will serve the Viking cause in love or war. It never\nfailed them, in the past, and will not fail them now if 'tis wielded\nfearlessly.\"\n\n\"What is this spell--this charm ye speak of? Tell it me at once!\" said\nEthel eagerly.\n\nThe priest slowly withdrew from his bosom a bright-bladed dagger, at\nsight of which Ethel shuddered and drew back.\n\nThe priest scowled, and said angrily, \"If ye shrink at this ye are not\nfit to be a Viking's daughter. This will serve you if ye are resolute,\nfor 'tis easy to get an audience of this Norman that hath bewitched\nOswald, and then it were easy to plunge this dagger into her heart; and\nwhat then were thy hated rival? Take the blade in thy hand, nor shrink\nfrom it; the touch of steel will fire thy heart, and purge away the\naccursed leaven of effeminacy which is creeping over our Viking race.\nThere is a magic in the touch of cold steel; my fingers tingle as I feel\nit. It has served the Viking's cause as nothing else could do for a\nthousand years.\"\n\nAs he spoke he pressed the fearsome weapon into her unwilling hand.\n\n\"But how then, priest, when I have taken the life of this innocent lady?\nWill that bring back the heart of Oswald? Nay, he will loathe me then,\nand I shall be as a 'daughter of perdition' unto him.\"\n\n\"Idle scruples, daughter!\" said the priest, testy and irritable. \"Who\nshall tell him it was your hand did this deed? Be resolute, and fear\nnot; the Vikings' gods will help ye if ye be bold.\"\n\n\"But after I have done this deed, priest, and if Oswald should never\nknow it was I that did this foul, this desperate deed, I can never rid\nme of the loathsome memory, nor the clinging horror, of\nblood-guiltiness. What after that? when self-respect, womanhood--nay,\nwhen the last shred of my _humanity_ is gone--what would remain that\nwere worth the having? What should I be, and how could I look to mate\nwith his upright and chivalrous nature? What daily horror would be mine!\nfor each look of his unsuspecting eye would damn me! Nay, priest, take\nback this dagger, for such means as these can never help me. My\ninnocence is my heaven, and I will keep it while I may; for when this is\nlost, then all is lost. I thought ye might have gentler means.\"\n\nAt this the old priest fairly roared with impotent rage.\n\n\"Avast!\" he cried. \"'Tis this Christ hath done it all! Why do ye come to\nthe Vikings' gods until ye have renounced Him? How can I summon spirits\nfrom Valhalla to your help, or send the wicca-hag skirling on the wind\nto ply her sorceries on Oswald, that his heart may be turned to ye, if\nye are Christian?\"\n\nThen, dropping into a gentler and more persuasive tone, as he saw Ethel\nfairly cowering in terror before him, he said,--\n\n\"Go, Viking's daughter. Ye know my heart is sore for ye and for my race;\nbut it must be either Odin or Jesus. Go renounce this Christ, and then I\ncan help ye. Nay, nay! keep the dagger, for it hath wondrous virtue in\nit. It was with this dagger that Thore Hund slew the Christian renegade\nOlaf Haraldssen on the bloody field of Sticklarstad, and Odin proved\nhimself a mightier than this Christ. It shall be so again, for the\nViking race shall be a terror to all lands. Why should ye be fearful and\nafraid? Why should ye hesitate and shrink at this act of revenge? Surely\nye have suffered enough at the hands of this accursed race. How can ye\nbe so scrupulous, when ye think of the vengeance ye owe these Norman\ntyrants and usurpers for a father and brother slaughtered, for your\nsadness, and your homelessness? Think of the love this Norman woman hath\nstolen from ye. Nurse these thoughts, and be courageous, Viking's\ndaughter.\"\n\nEthel slowly climbed from the weird retreat, where for generations these\nsavage priests of Thor and Odin had exercised a dread and mystic sway\nover the descendants of the Norsemen conquerors, who in past times had\nswooped down on Northumbria, peopling it with rough and hardy warriors;\nand still the barbarous rites and crude beliefs held extensive sway, in\nspite of the leavening influences of the Saxons' Christ. Ethel had\nentered this nature's temple with dim hopes that by some exercise of\nsupernatural powers the heart of Oswald might be influenced so as to\nturn to her; and if not this, that she might know the worst. Alas! the\nsad heart and the wounded love had met with no amelioration of its\nsadness and despair; but the dormant passion and frenzy which ran in her\nViking blood had been stirred in its lethargy into a madness of revenge,\nthe extent and power of which she had never felt before.\n\n\"What is to be the end of this?\" she said to herself, as she sped over\nthe wild hills. \"Either I must conquer or be crushed. There is no middle\ncourse; either it is hell or heaven. I cannot cast off or change my\nlove; that is given unreservedly and beyond recall. This Viking, Sigurd,\nis a warrior true as steel, and his love is as sincere and true. But\nwhat of that? To wed him were a suggestion most gross, and impossible as\ngross. How could I crouch beside the ingle of an untamed Viking husband,\nand in all unloveliness mother a rude progeny, and blur out, in the\ngrossness and savagery of it, the vision of better things, and of the\nnobler love I have seen? Question. Shall I tamely submit to the\nusurpation of a love that might have been mine, but of which I have been\ndespoiled by a Norman woman? Or shall I fling to the winds my Christian\ntrammels and scruples, and, Viking-like, take the Viking's remedy?\" and\nshe drew forth from her bosom the unlovely and murderous weapon the\npriest had given her. \"The priest said this was my only remedy. 'Tis a\ngrim alternative. But why should I suffer this for a love too readily\ngiven? I never told my heart to dote on Oswald. 'Twas a wild freak of\naffection I could not bridle; and I cannot undo it now, so that change\nis impossible. It was without effort of mine, also, that he has filled\nmy eye so fully that I cannot see another. Shall I tamely suffer this\neclipse at the hands of this southern woman? This priest tells me what a\nViking woman would do, and surely, if foul wrongs call for fierce\nrevenge, then I should not timidly shrink from this avenging act.\nMadness and despair nerve my arm and steel my heart, and I will act as a\nViking woman would act!\"\n\nBut just at that moment, as the fierce spirit of revenge assumed the\nmastery, there flitted before her mental vision a scene of long ago,\nwhen, as a child, she knelt at her mother's knee, and heard the wondrous\nstory of the Redeemer's mercifulness and love for his enemies. The\nrevulsion of feeling was instant and overpowering. Stretching her\nclenched hands heavenwards, she shrieked, in an agony of prayer, \"Jesu,\n_God of mercy_, help!\"\n\nOverwrought nature could bear no more, and she sank in insensibility to\nthe ground, her fair countenance convulsed with agony. Speedily,\nhowever, the shadows of despair gave place to a placid smile of sweet\ncontent. Again she was a child, and her mother's form was bending over\nher, but wondrously ennobled and beautified; and she spoke words of\ncomfort and of hope. \"Daughter, be of good courage, and remember the\nwords of the Master that I taught you: 'Come unto Me all ye that labour\nand are heavy laden, and I will give you rest'; 'Lo, I am with you\nalways, even unto the end of the world.'\" Then, with a smile angelic in\nits sweetness, the heavenly vision faded away.\n\nSlowly Ethel staggered to her feet, for her physical strength was\nexhausted; but the look of blank despair had passed away, and her\ncountenance was transfigured until it shone like the countenance of a\nsaint of God. And drawing the dagger from her bosom she hurled it over a\nprecipice, shuddering as she did so. Then she slowly turned her\nfootsteps towards the fortress on the hill.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX.\n\nEDGAR ATHELING.\n\n                            \"Oh how wretched\n    Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\nSigurd, after the rebuff he had received at the hands of Oswald, sped\nhim on his way to Scotland, aflame with a wrath which was about equally\ndivided between Oswald and the Normans. He was accompanied by some\nhalf-dozen of his followers. And there, at the court of Malcolm of\nScotland, he laid before the Prince Atheling his scheme for the recovery\nof the kingdom.\n\nNow, Prince Edgar was a weak, voluptuous prince, who spent his days in\ndissipation, and surrounded by foreign parasites; but he was universally\nacknowledged to be the legitimate heir to the throne of England. Every\none who knew him intimately had little hope of his ever winning it by\nforce of arms, or of his worthily filling it, if it should ever be\nwrested from the grasp of the astute William. The Conqueror well knew\nthe weakness of this princeling, and with consummate policy he kept him\nwell supplied with money, knowing that if he had the means to gratify\nhis vicious and effeminate disposition, he would not be easily moved to\nundertake any dangerous or arduous enterprise.\n\nBut the Atheling, like all weak and vacillating natures, could be false\nor fickle to his master William at very short notice. He was capable\nalso, in a vain and feeble sort of way, of grasping at the English\nsceptre, for no better or nobler motive than the desire to gratify his\nchildish vanity, and to further indulge his voluptuous and sensual\nhabits.\n\nThere was nothing in common between the fierce and fiery descendant of\nthe Vikings, Sigurd, and this weathercock of princely descent. Sigurd\nwas as valorous and uncompromising as the Atheling was ease-loving and\ncowardly. Still, it was quite easy for this enthusiast to infuse into\nthe Prince's mind most exaggerated ideas of the rally of the Saxons\nunder Oswald, and to lead him to believe that the prospect of regaining\nthe throne of England was easy of achievement. He also managed to fan\ninto a flame the petty jealousies of which the prince was capable, by\nrepresenting to him that Oswald was intent on asserting his own claims\nto the kingdom.\n\nIt was a matter of profound surprise to us, and not a little\nconsternation also, when scarcely a month had elapsed from the date of\nSigurd's expulsion from the camp, to find that Saxon runners everywhere\nthroughout the kingdom were conveying the Prince's summons to all Saxon\nleaders, outlaws, and ecclesiastics, together with a certain number of\nfreemen, and churls, who, according to Saxon laws, had the right to\nattend these parliaments, or witans, of the nation. The witan was\nsummoned to meet in Lakesland, one of the wildest and most inaccessible\nparts of Northumbria. Oswald and I were summoned, and a number of those\nwho owned Oswald's chieftainship.\n\nWe weighed carefully this matter, and we could not rid ourselves of the\napprehension that Sigurd somehow was at the bottom of it, seeing that\nthe _bodes_ who bare these summonses were followers of the Jarl.\n\nPersonally, I was much averse to the project, being unable to see what\ngood could come of it, in our present feeble and distracted state. But\nOswald considered it desirable that we should obey this summons as loyal\nSaxons. Accordingly, a company of us, under the leadership of Oswald,\nstarted for this rendezvous amid the Lakes. We were compelled to use the\nutmost secrecy in our movements, and travel by night, as the Normans\nwere still thickly posted throughout the north. It would certainly have\nbeen most dangerous to travel by day, even with so small a company as\nours. We were practically but two days march from the place of\nrendezvous. So we started after nightfall on the first day, and, by\nsteadily pressing on, we covered one-half the distance, arriving ere it\nwas daylight at a place of refuge evidently well known to our leader,\nbut which came as a revelation to me, for we came upon a band of Saxons\nnear to an inlet of the sea, which ran into a thickly wooded headland.\nHere were a company of hardy men, partly fisherman, and partly traders\nand freebooters, who owned a vessel capable of carrying a considerable\ncargo; which bare sometimes Saxon refugees to foreign lands, at other\ntimes engaged in peaceful trading with distant ports, and had frequently\nbeen employed by armed bands of Saxons for the purpose of making swift\ndescents upon their foes in various parts of the kingdom. From this\nsource I found that wines and breadstuffs, as well as munitions of war,\nhad systematically been supplied to the Saxon outlaws. I was told\nvoyages were frequently made, not only to Ireland and Scotland, but even\nto ports on the Mediterranean sea.\n\nHere we rested for the day, and at nightfall we went aboard this vessel;\nand, the wind being favourable, in a couple of hours they ran us across\nthe bay of Morcam, landing us in sight of the Westmoreland hills, and\ncertainly saving us more than a twenty miles' trudge. We were now within\nsome eight miles of our destination, and still had the most of the night\nbefore us. Our sailor friends were able to tell us, also, that there was\nno encampment of Normans within many miles of our route; so we continued\nour march for an hour or two at a steady pace, without the slightest\nalarm or molestation. At last, our path lay through a narrow pass or\ndefile in the mountains, and we were rapidly drawing near to the\nrendezvous. We now found it necessary to move with the utmost caution,\nfor the path was rugged and narrow, and there was an eeriness about the\nplace which was suggestive of anything uncanny. Huge boulders frequently\nconfronted us, looming up out of the darkness so suddenly as quite to\ntake my breath away. Oswald and I were a trifle ahead of the others, and\nwere discussing to ourselves as to what could be the purpose of the\nPrince, in summoning at so unpropitious a time the Saxon witan.\n\n\"Does the Prince intend to take up arms, think you, my lord?\" said I to\nOswald.\n\n\"I expect little from the Atheling, Father, of that sort of thing. He is\nfickle, cowardly, and dissolute into the bargain. He dallied at the\ncourt of Malcolm at our last effort at York, until the cause was lost;\nand he sped him back again, and never stayed to strike a single blow. I\nam afraid some hare-brained purpose moves him, or some petty ambition\nwhich is unworthy of a prince, and which he will not back with any force\nof character, or any persistence. He will simply provoke a revolt which\ncannot be successful, whilst at the very first repulse he will vanish,\nand leave his unhappy followers to the relentless extermination policy\nof William.\"\n\n\"You have no faith in revolt, I think?\"\n\n\"None whatever. It is absolutely hopeless. If we had but had a leader at\nYork, brave and skilful as our last King Harold, and one who could have\nunited us, the thing was half assured. But now Saxon graves hold\nprisoner for ever the flower of our people; and to attempt to offer an\norganised opposition to the Norman forces--why, it were sheer madness.\nThe only two points in the kingdom where any show of resistance is made,\nis our own little colony, and in Lincolnshire, where Hereward still\nprecariously holds out.\"\n\n\"But does not the Prince know this, think you? Or is he incapable of\ngrasping the situation?\"\n\n\"The Prince, I have already intimated, is not a factor worth considering\nfor a moment. I very strongly suspect that Sigurd is at the bottom of\nthis. He, I believe, has stirred the Prince up either to ambition or to\njealousy, and I should not wonder if I were arraigned as traitor as a\npreliminary to some madcap exploit of Sigurd's. Do not be in the least\nsurprised if this gathering ends in dire mischief and disunion.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" we both exclaimed in a breath, as we saw the figure of a\nman dart from behind a huge boulder, and swiftly run along the pass\nahead of us.\n\n\"I like not that,\" said Oswald. \"He has no friendly motive, I warrant;\"\nand he at once drew his sword, and called Wulfhere. \"Your Grace had\nbetter take second rank,\" said he to me. Then, halting a moment till the\ncompany drew near, he addressed them.\n\n\"Men, have all your weapons ready.\"\n\nImmediately every swordsman's blade gleamed in the darkness, and every\narcher's bow was unslung, and an arrow affixed.\n\n\"Rear guard!\" said he, in an undertone.\n\n\"Aye, aye!\" responded two gruff voices, which I knew to be Badger's and\nBretwul's.\n\n\"Beware! and be ready; and keep close up. Now, men, let us move steadily\nforward.\"\n\nSo we pressed slowly and steadily forward, Oswald and Wulfhere passing\nno boulder or obstruction without first carefully peering behind it to\nsee if any foe ambushed there. Suddenly there was a halt, the sword of\nOswald was uplifted, and I could descry a muffled human figure standing\nin the centre of the path.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" said Oswald. \"Speak, or I will cleave thee from head to\nfoot.\"\n\n\"Listen!\" said the figure. \"I am the shadow of a vanishing race. When\nSaxon hates Saxon and is greedier than greedy hawk for Saxon's blood;\nand when Saxon loves Norman habits, and makes friends of the hated\noppressor; what hope is there of a restoration of the old race! If the\nFates have decreed it, well--'tis enough. I only ask for a grave in some\nlonely spot, where the groans of my people will not disturb my long\nrepose. But beware, Saxons! there are fierce enemies abroad--Saxon, too.\nBeware! The would-be avenger has a sharp sword, and will not stay his\nhand. So beware! the swoop of the eagle is swift and strong, and his\ntalons are sharp.\"\n\nWith that, the strange figure turned and fled along the pass with the\nspeed of a mountain roe.\n\n\"That is a strange visitant,\" I said. \"The voice might be the voice of a\nwoman. I almost fancied I had heard it before.\"\n\n\"In any case, it is the voice of a friend. The warning is unmistakable;\nthe enemy to be dreaded is Saxon also,\" said Oswald.\n\nI began to wish most devoutly that the night were past. My nerves were\nquite unstrung, and the yelp of a fox, or wolf, in the vicinity, the\nflap-flap, of the night-owl's wing, or the scurrying footsteps of the\nrabbits, set me in a violent tremble. Oswald headed the party forward,\nthough I would most gladly have called a halt, and waited for the clay.\nWe quickly found that our troubles were not yet past, for not a quarter\nof a mile had been traversed since our last visitant, when suddenly, and\nwithout warning, we were beset behind and before by armed men, who\nhurled themselves upon us with the fury of wild beasts. Oswald had only\ntime to raise his shield to save himself from the furious stroke of some\npowerful enemy. Before I had time to realise it, friend and foe were\nlaying about them with the fury of madmen. No sooner did I grasp the\nsituation than immediately I rushed to the front, though it was at the\nimminent peril of my life. Lifting up the sacred emblem of my office, I\ncried,--\n\n\"Peace! In God's name, I charge peace!\"\n\nAt the sight of the blessed cross the assailants recoiled a pace or two.\n\n\"Who are you?\" I cried. \"Saxon or Norman?\"\n\n\"They are Saxon,\" said Oswald. \"I know well who aimed the blows at my\nlife. 'Tis Sigurd, one professing to be of our nation.\"\n\n\"I am not of thy nation, dastardly renegade, dancing attendance upon\nNorman wenches, and warring in silken hose.\"\n\n\"If I warred with as little sense and as little skill as thyself, I\nshould soon be as impotent as thou art, and have never a Saxon left me\nto lead to battle.\"\n\n\"Sigurd,\" said I, in as authoritative tone as I could command, and still\nholding up the emblem of peace and goodwill to men, \"I charge you, in\nGod's name, that you call off your men, and cease this fratricidal\nstrife.\"\n\n\"What care I, monk,\" said he fiercely, \"for thy God? He is the God of\ncowards, and not of warriors.\"\n\nBut having breathed out this defiance, he gathered up a wounded comrade\nwho had felt the keenness of Wulfhere's sword, and, without uttering\nanother word, he headed his men for the hills.\n\n\"Now, my lord,\" said I, \"what is to be done? This, I fear, is only a\nprecursor of trouble and discord at our witan. I would you were willing\neven now to beat a retreat, nor take further risks to yourself and men,\nin so bootless an errand.\n\n\"The Prince professedly has summoned me, and I would not draw back until\nfully assured that mutual council is profitless,\" said Oswald.\n\n\"Let me go forward, my lord, and meet the Prince. I think my sacred\noffice will protect me. If I think good will come of this gathering, I\nwill communicate with you.\"\n\n\"No, Father; no man shall ever say I failed to respond to the call of my\nPrince, despisable though I believe him to be. Nor will my duty to my\nrace and to my country permit me to stand aloof from this witan, for God\nknows we have need both of council and of all the wisdom left to us.\nBut, nevertheless, I have no faith in this gathering. The Prince, I\ndoubt me, is an indolent sensualist, and, like all weak-minded men, most\neasily provoked into jealousy. The ominous figure we have just met is\ndeeply involved in this scheme, I am now sure. A sturdy, valorous man,\nand a foeman of direst sort, but utterly incapable of moderation. He\ncherishes a mortal hatred of me, and I now know that I shall take my\nlife in my hand when I enter the council; but that is a risk which gives\nme no uneasiness. So let us advance, for the light, I see, is breaking\nover the tops of the mountains, and very soon we shall have the day.\"\n\nSo, nerving ourselves for any contingency, we continued our march. This\nhad now become much pleasanter, and infinitely easier, in consequence of\nthe approach of day.\n\nBy-and-by we drew aside into a sheltered dell, in order to partake of\nour morning meal, which we despatched as hastily as possible, in order\nthat we might reach the rendezvous early. We had not journeyed far,\nhowever, before we were accosted by a man, who emerged from behind a\nheap of stones at the head of the pass, and surveyed us narrowly.\n\n\"Saxons?\" said he.\n\n\"Aye, Saxons all,\" we replied.\n\n\"What say ye?\"\n\n\"Down with the Normans!\" we replied.\n\n\"Right,\" said he. \"Down with the Normans!\" Then he gave us sundry\ndirections as to the nearest route to the place of meeting. We found\nthis route to be again somewhat difficult; for such a stern, wild\ncountry it is difficult to imagine, much more to describe. We again\nentered a narrow defile between two frowning and rugged hills, and in a\nlittle while this defile opened out into a magnificent,\namphitheatre-like vale, enclosed with lofty peaks and rugged hills on\nevery hand, whilst below us there lay a magnificent sheet of water in\nthe centre of the valley, with thick woods running around it; the bald\nand boulder-strewn hills towering high above all, most imposing in their\nrugged grandeur and might. Underneath them, the valley was most\nbewitching in the loveliness of its umbrageous woods. As outlets to this\nbeautiful valley, there were but the pass we had descended, and another\nnarrow defile at the foot of the lake, where the water made its exit.\nInvoluntarily we came to halt. Indeed, the prospect before us was at\nonce so wild, and yet so charming, that we could not but stand and gaze,\nenchanted with the scene.\n\n\"Now, Father,\" said Oswald, \"what think you of Lakesland?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said I, \"lovely as our beloved Craven is, it pales before this\nmagnificent country.\"\n\n\"Yes; and the strength of it! Had Sigurd but a tithe of moderation and\nself-restraint, there are no Norman forces in this Northumberland that\ncould drive him out.\"\n\nWell, we resumed our march by rounding the head of the lake by a\ndifficult and tangled forest path. This done, we continued our journey\ndown the opposite side of the valley and along the side of the lake,\nuntil eventually we were taken in hand by one of a group of men,\nevidently set for the purpose, and by him we were conducted to a\nyeoman's dwelling, embowered in trees of massive girth on all sides. The\nhabitation was similar to the rough but substantial dwellings we were\nall familiar with. There were some considerable outbuildings and an\nenclosure carefully fenced round by a lofty wall, and evidently intended\nfor the protection of the sheep and cattle at night, during the winter\nmonths; for the wolves were wont to pack, sometimes in considerable\nnumbers, and become very daring and vicious, when the pinch of hunger\nwas upon them.\n\nAs soon as we entered this enclosure, we found there was assembled\nalready a goodly company of men of various grades, all of them armed to\nthe teeth. Many of them were evidently Saxons who had held considerable\npositions in the land prior to the coming of the Normans, though now\nevidently much broken. The scared and suspicious looks with which they\nscrutinised every new-comer, told plainly that they were much used to\ntreachery, and familiar with double-dealing. There were also numbers who\nwere clearly men of war. The look of defiance on their countenances, and\nthe well-stocked quivers over their shoulders, told plainly they were\nchiefs of the bold outlaws who lived by the might of their trusty\nswords, and their long bows. No one could misunderstand their fierce and\ndaring attitude.\n\nThere were some also who, by their armour, had evidently learned\nsomething of the methods of war pursued by the Normans. Indeed, as we\nhave said, before the coming of William, large numbers of the Normans\nhad thronged the court of the pious Edward, and Saxon noblemen in goodly\nnumbers had practised the joust at tournaments, adopting Norman weapons,\naffecting a budding errantry, and talking Norman French. There was here\nalso a goodly number of the humbler ranks; for, according to old Saxon\nlaw, not only freemen, but even villeins and churls had the right of\nrepresentatives at the witanagemot, or council. Oswald immediately\njoined himself to a company of these men of knightly appearance, many of\nwhom he knew, having fought side by side with them at York.\n\nSigurd I quickly espied, standing with another group of the old stock,\nrude, unlettered, and primitive in habit and dress. I could easily see,\nwithout seeming to notice or observe them narrowly, that these men\nviewed with no favourable eye what they were wont to call the pranking\nof Norman manners and dress on the part of Oswald and the others I have\nspoken of. It was plainly to be seen, also, that Sigurd had done\nsomething to inflame their minds against Oswald, for they eyed him\nsavagely and suspiciously.\n\nI proceeded, however, at once to the house place, to make my obedience\nto Prince Edgar, who, with certain of his personal friends, awaited the\nassembling of the members of the witan. The Prince was dressed in a rich\nvelvet dress, with elaborate fringing of silk, and for a head-dress the\nhat and feather worn by Norman courtiers. He was also accompanied by a\nNorman favourite, a most truculent parasite, of a vain and dissipated\nappearance, and, as I thought, a very unsuitable companion for a prince\nwho preferred claims to the Saxon throne.\n\nElaborate arrangements had evidently been made for display, and for the\ncomfort and luxury of the Prince. He was accompanied by his cook, his\nvalet, and several serving-men; whilst he had, with infinite trouble to\nthe servants, brought with him wines, and delicacies, and dainties,\nwhich were to me no good augury, and which, do as I would, I could not\nbut despise in one who made pretence of so desperate an enterprise as\nthe overthrow of the Norman rule in England. For, view it as we might, a\nmost desperate enterprise it most surely was.\n\nAt the appointed hour for the council to begin, a chair was brought out\nof doors, and placed in such a position that its occupant could command\na view of the whole company. Over this chair a richly-embroidered cover\nwas thrown, and the Prince immediately took possession of it; whilst the\nNorman favourite came behind, and ostentatiously placed a crown upon his\nhead. This burlesque of royalty was expected to produce a shout of loyal\nenthusiasm from the assembled company; but, with the exception of his\nown followers, not a whisper of applause greeted it, though the marks of\nderision on the countenances of many of the Saxons were open and\nundisguised.\n\nNow, as the senior ecclesiastic present, it became my lot to read what\nthe Prince was pleased to call the \"Royal Proclamation,\" calling this\nmeeting of the witan, which being done, the Prince next addressed the\ncompany. In pompous and affected tones he said,--\n\n\"Reverend fathers, valiant knights and liegemen, I have called together\nmy faithful witan to consider the state of our unhappy country, and what\nmay best be done for the recovery of my rights as the lawful King of\nEngland. To this end I seek your advice; and not only so, but I further\nlay my commands upon you, as my faithful subjects, liegemen, and\nvassals, to help me in this enterprise. To this end I would further\ninsist that it is necessary that you should lay aside all purposes of\nindividual self-assertion, and join yourselves and your forces to the\ngeneral movement. Now, whilst speaking on this head, I may say, with\nshame and regret, it has been reported to me that sundry knights, of\nwhom I expected better things, are not true to our cause, but are acting\nwithout regard to the claims of myself as the lawful King of England,\nand are setting up a separate authority; warring according to methods\nnot sanctioned by me or my faithful witan. I hear there are those who\nare willing to forfeit their allegiance to me, and, for their own\npersonal ends, going even so far as to seek a servile alliance with our\nfoes, to the betrayal of the Saxon cause. Now let it be known to you\nthat I claim the undivided allegiance of all Saxons, and that I purpose\nwith rigour to punish all traitors to my cause and to my kingdom. I have\nbeen too long slighted and set at naught by my lieges and vassals, and I\nwould know what of it? There are loyal men and true in your ranks, I\nknow, who despise and hate such factious conduct as much as I do myself;\nand I call upon all who can bear testimony to this flagrant disloyalty\non the part of certain of my subjects, to stand forth and declare it at\nthis council, for I purpose with utmost rigour to punish all factionists\nand traitors who are cringingly seeking alliances with the Norman foe.\"\n\nAt this invitation Sigurd stepped from the ranks, and said,--\n\n\"Puissant Prince, if it be your will, I have a charge to make against\nOswald the Ealdorman, son of Ulfson, who is now present. As he well\nknows, I have made this charge to his face, that he has built a fortress\nfor himself and all such churls and freemen as are willing to\nacknowledge his chieftainship. I charge him also with speaking\nslightingly of your Highness's valour, and your ability to regain your\nrightful throne. I charge him also with endeavouring to enter into\ncowardly alliance with the Norman foe--promising, if certain meagre\nconcessions be made to him, he will withhold his followers from\nrebellion, and all endeavours to resist the Normans. I charge him with\nattempting to gain a dishonourable alliance with the house of De\nMontfort. Which several charges I have attempted to make good at the\nsword's point. And I call upon him now to answer for it with his life,\nas all traitors and trucemakers should.\"\n\n\"If Oswald the Ealdorman be present, I call upon him to make such answer\nas best he can against the charges preferred by our valiant and trusty\nknight, Sigurd the Saxon Dane, who, by his fealty to us and his zeal for\nthe Saxon cause, has won our hearty trust and confidence.\"\n\nAt this summons Oswald stepped forth a pace or two, and, removing his\nhelmet and visor, said, in firm and unfaltering tones,--\n\n\"Sire, may I be bold enough to ask if this is the purpose for which\nvaliant knights and lieges have been summoned from far and near?\"\n\n\"Silence, dog! and answer the charges made against thee! Then we shall\nconsider the weightier matters appertaining to our realm. But we will\nhave an answer to these charges.\"\n\n\"The charges, sire, made against me by the Jarl, are the creation of his\nown heated brain; and the reason he has brought them hither is because\nhe failed ignobly to make them good with his weapons. I decline\naltogether to wrangle out with him this petty personal quarrel in\npresence of this assembly. If we are to consider matters of greater\nmoment, matters which concern our country and the present desperate\nstate of the Saxon cause, then I am prepared to offer my poor services,\neither in this council or in face of our common foe.\"\n\n\"Well said, Sir Knight!\" cried a gruff voice, which belonged to the\nleader of a party of knights who had entered the enclosure during the\nforegoing dialogue, and whose seedy and travel-stained garments, and\nrusty arms and accoutrements, bore ample token of much exposure and much\nrough usage.\n\n\"Sirrah!\" shouted the Prince, waxing wroth at the bold front and\nfearless language of Oswald, \"dost thou presume to answer thy King after\nthis fashion? By my halidame, if this continues there will be never a\nscurvy clown in my kingdom who will not think he may beard his Prince\nwith impunity. But I will know whither all this is tending. I have long\nhad my eye upon that boorish and untamed son of Earl Leofric, whom men\ncall Hereward, who is carrying on warfare in the Fen country--palpably\nfor his own ends and his own glory, for he never so much as acknowledges\nmy sovereignty or sends his dutiful submission to me. Now thou dost\npresume to imitate the conduct of the braggart Hereward, and must needs\ncollect an army for thy own personal advantage, and not for the glory of\nthy Prince. Men of my faithful witan, I call upon you to note this, for\nI have determined I will rid the Saxon cause of all such disloyal\ntraitors.\"\n\n\"'Tis pity, sire,\" said Oswald, in tones in which anger and contempt\nwere mingled, \"that you never thought it worth your while to collect an\narmy for yourself, or at least to place yourself at the head of one\ncollected for you. We would fain see what kind of stuff our Prince is\nmade of. Will you tell this witan, Prince, where you were when so many\ngood lives were lost at York in your cause?\"\n\n\"Well spoken, sir!\" shouted the gruff voice, with even more emphasis\nthan before.\n\n\"Dost thou call in question my valour, villain!\" roared the Prince. \"By\nour Lady, I'll have no more of thy effrontery, dog! Disarm him, loyal\nknights!\"\n\nImmediately half a dozen of the Saxon leaders sprang forward at the\nbidding of the Prince; but they quailed before Oswald as they saw the\nbroadsword whipped from its scabbard, and perform a swift circle in the\nair.\n\n\"Here's to thee, with all my heart, Sir Knight! I like thy metal!\" said\nthe stranger knight, as he sprang to Oswald's side, brandishing a huge\nsword; whilst his followers quickly ranged themselves on the same side,\nready for the fray.\n\n\"Treason! treason!\" almost screamed the Prince, in abject terror,\nstarting from his seat and preparing to beat a retreat.\n\nI gently laid my hand on his shoulder, and said, \"Have patience, sire.\nThese men mean no harm, only they are not wont to receive such harsh\nrebukes.\"\n\nThis seemed to reassure him, for, addressing the unknown knight, he\nsaid,--\n\n\"Who art thou who thus boldly takes sides with this traitor to my\ncause?\"\n\nThe stranger made no answer, but slowly removed his headgear.\nImmediately a score of voices shouted, \"The Wake! the Wake! 'Tis\nHereward!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Hereward. \"I am the Wake, whom thou hast been cowardly\ncharging with treason. Hark! Dost thou think Hereward is going to peril\nlife and limb, or waste precious lives, to set such a dolt on the throne\nof England as thou hast proved thyself this day; and on the former\noccasion, when we met at York, for instance? Marry, no! A niddering who\nflies for his life at the first approach of danger is not fit to wield a\nsceptre in these lands. A Prince who fosters faction, and is pettishly\njealous of braver men than himself, had better turn monk; a _shaven_\ncrown would better become thee than the Crown of England.\"\n\n\"By the blessed Virgin, I vow I will humble thy pride, dog, ere I have\ndone with thee! I will not be bullied in my own witan, though thou be a\nson of Earl Leofric!\"\n\n\"Ah, well,\" said Hereward, with a sneer, \"thou art of the wrong metal\nthyself, but if thou hast a knight brave enough to cross a sword on thy\nbehalf, let him stand forth, and I will oblige him with a bout; 'twould\nbe a little diversion in this fool's errand of ours.\"\n\n\"I will champion the Prince, braggart; with a curse on thee for thy\nbase-hearted treachery to thy wife Torfrida!\" shouted the brave and\ncholeric Sigurd, rushing forward and brandishing his sword in the face\nof Hereward.\n\nInstantly there was such a clamour of voices, clash of swords, and dire\nconfusion, in the arena, that I was terrified at this tumult of fierce\nand angry passions. Oswald and I rushed in between these fierce\ncombatants and called aloud for peace, which with the utmost difficulty\nwe obtained. Seeing the strange state of frenzy in which most present\nwere, I urgently requested that all further discussion should cease for\nthe day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX.\n\nPRINCE AND PARASITE.\n\n    \"Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,\n    As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.\"\n\n    Pope.\n\n\n\"I say, Alred!\" exclaimed the Atheling to the Norman parasite who had\naccompanied him hither, as they sat drinking wine the same evening,\n\"what sayest thou to the baiting thy Prince has had to-day? I have no\nstomach for more. Malediction on them!\"\n\n\"Heyday, so say I! Scrambling over moor and bog hither was bad enough,\nbut parleying with quarrelsome thanes and with vulgar braggart churls\nsuch as these, I would not endure with a kingdom thrown into the\nbargain. Your Majesty probably thinks different.\"\n\n\"Whew! Not I, Alred! These garlic-bred swine have no more regard for the\nperson of a prince than for a scurvy villein. A malediction on them!\nThey would pick my bones within a week, were I to attempt to rule them.\nBy the bye, that huge Danish boor stood by me. I wish he had been at the\nbottom of the sea, for all that, when he enticed me on this fool's\nerrand. What is the lout's name? Sigurd?\"\n\n\"The same, my lord. But be advised, for at bottom he's as loutish and as\nsnarling as the very worst of them, and I would not trust my head in his\njaws for a moment; for as we passed him but yesterday, in our courtly\nattire, I heard him under his breath snorting and grumbling like a boar\nwith a spear between his ribs. The churl! Would he have his Prince dress\nlike a scurvy swineherd?\"\n\n\"Beshrew me, Alred, I never could make pretence of ruling such unwashen\nclowns. And then, into the bargain, every snarling villein elects to be\nking over his own starveling crew, and there would be a king for every\nrood of land in England. I'll no more of it, Alred! I thank Heaven my\nskin is whole to go back to Scotland with.\"\n\n\"A wise resolve, I swear. Make further oath of fealty to William, and\ntake his subsidies. Then heigho! for a jolly life at the court of\nMalcolm! or, what is better still, to Rouen, where summer's sun tarries\nlonger, and winter's frosts pinch not the daintiest fingers. There\ndark-eyed beauties are kinder, and easier in the wooing. That is Alred's\nphilosophy. Canst thou gainsay the wisdom of it, my Prince?\"\n\n\"Alred, thou know'st well the joints of my armour; thou hast pierced a\nvulnerable spot. I vow thou hast waked one pleasant memory, sweet Alred;\nand there is but one sunny spot in this dreary wilderness of\ninsubordination and braggadocia.\"\n\n\"What is it, my Prince? Has some nymph awoke the tender passion of love\nin thy breast?\"\n\n\"Rightly guessed, Alred! Did'st thou mark the fair Saxon, whose fiery\nzeal for our cause has been so marked. I did not fail to notice she\nmarked me much and often, and I flatter myself her admiration extends\nnot only to our cause, but also to our royal person. How sayest thou? By\nour Lady, a prize like that would be some recompense for our sickening\nand intolerable journey over the wretched moors atween us and Scotland.\"\n\n\"Thou hast the eye of an eagle, puissant Prince, or, to be more correct,\nthe eye of a vulture. I had hoped this pretty bird would fall to my net.\nBut alas! thy eye has seen this comely virgin, and I am undone, I trow.\nWhy, I have already pranked myself before her with some success; but now\nI shall lose my quarry.\"\n\n\"Come, come, my jackal! don't despise thine office. Why, man, I never\ngrudge thy picking the bones, when our royal self hath fed.\"\n\n\"Small thanks is enow for what is left when your gorge rises at\nit,--with my humble submission.\"\n\n\"Enough, enough! Canst thou get speech of her? Thou canst bear a message\nwhich should be gratefully received. Tell her her Prince would like to\ntender her his special thanks for her great zeal and devotion to his\ncause; and invite her hither.\"\n\n\"Have a care, my Prince, and bait your hook daintily. Think you you will\ncatch your fish with the bare hook? By all the saints, I tell you I saw\nforked lightning playing about her eyes when I incautiously gave play to\na little premature pleasantry. Nothing but an imperturbable and brazen\ncountenance prevented my being transfixed with a thunderbolt. It would\nbe better to make a great show of bravery, and talk of plans for the\nrecovery of the kingdom; throwing in battles, sieges, and valorous\nhotch-potch of that sort, by the bushel. You will have to tie this filly\nwith a pretty long tether, or you are undone, for she's high-spirited\nand mettlesome enough for anything.\"\n\n\"Good, my ambassador-in-chief; thy wisdom never fails. Would I had my\nkingdom, sweet Alred, if 'twere only that I might make thee lord high\nchancellor! To be forewarned is to be forearmed: the net shall be a\nsilken one. But now not another word, for expectancy is on tiptoe. Do\nthine errand, and I will bestow on thee further tokens of my regard if\ngood luck go with thee.\"\n\n\"Pardon me, sire! If I am qualified to be lord high chancellor, I am\nqualified to give a little further advice in this matter.\"\n\n\"What is it, Alred? Prithee, come to the point at once: none of thy\nsermons. When I am king thou shalt be court preacher, if thou affect\nthat office; but spare me now, an' thou lovest me.\"\n\n\"Well, here it is. When fair maids of this quality have favours to\ngrant, mark me, they will have it done daintily. Faugh! What do you take\nher for? Don't trust to second-hand dealings too much. Vulgar eyes\nlooking on at it! Pshaw! What a stomach you credit her with! Listen.\nThis must be a grand passion; you are entranced, bewitched, dying for\nvery love of the matchless queen of your heart! Mark me, pitch your\nnotes high if you would have this pretty bird come fluttering to your\nbower. Why, canst thou not rhyme a maudlin verse or two? Come, cudgel\nthy brains, and I will help thee with a stave; here are writing\nmaterials.\"\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha! I like thy notions. Come, thou shalt draw us up a rhyme,\nsuch as the gallant knights of Normandy address to their lady-loves. By\nmy soul, I am three parts Norman, and the other part is not Saxon. So\nI'll superscribe no screeching Saxon verse. I declare 'tis a language\nwhich is a cross between the screech of a witch and the grunt of a hog.\nSomething elegant, or I'll none of it, mark me, Alred.\"\n\n\"Well, it shall be something lofty, I warrant, as becomes a prince. So\nhere goes:--\n\n    \"Fair maid of the flaxen hair,\n    And eyes of the heavenly blue,\"----\n\n\"Bravo! Ha, ha, ha! Go it, sweet Alred? 'Tis fine! I'll sing that at my\nlady's tent door. Get me thy guitar.\"\n\n\"Pray don't interrupt me, my King. The poetic fire is burning; don't let\nus miss the glow of it.\n\n    \"Fair maid of the flaxen hair,\n    And eyes of the heavenly blue,\n    Whose graces bewitchingly rare\n    Have sweetly enchanted my view.\n\n    \"Oh! haste to thy Prince ever true,\n    Whose adored one ever thou art.\n    Thy presence shall sweetly renew\n    The joy to my languishing heart.\"\n\n\"Bravo! By my soul, Alred, I swear 'tis fine! 'Twould fetch St.\nElizabeth from her pedestal.\"\n\n\"Well, if it will do, draw us up your proposal atop of it, sire, and\nI'll try its effect upon this dainty bird of a Saxon.\"\n\n\"Nay, marry! not I, Alred. I'll not spoil thy elegant rhyme by adding\nto't my bungling prose. Finish up thy letter handsomely, as 'tis begun,\nand I'll affix my seal.\"\n\n\"By our Lady, I'll promise many things, then, which thou wilt not\nperform, I warrant. Here it is; listen to't,--\n\n     \"'FAIR SAXON,--Thy Prince is entranced, bewitched, by thy\n     incomparable loveliness. My throne, my kingdom, were nothing\n     compared with thee. Come to me; I vow to make thee the proudest\n     dame in England. Fly to the arms of your impatient, expectant\n     lover,\n\n     \"'EDGAR THE ATHELING.'\n\n\"Now affix your sign-manual, sire. I warrant this would make the hearts\nof half the damsels at the court of Malcolm frantic with delight. Mark\nme, this falcon will strike his quarry quick; if not, I vow I will not\nfly another this side Martinmas. Wish me luck, and a share in the spoil\nanon, my Prince.\"\n\nSo saying, Alred buttoned up his doublet, buckled on his sword, and,\nwith the rakish air of an unprincipled Norman gallant, he swaggered off\nto the tent of Ethel. There, after many foppish grimaces, and much\nfoolish adulation, he delivered the missive into her hands; adding to it\nsuggestions and explanations which Ethel scarce comprehended, and we\ncannot chronicle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI.\n\nPRINCE AND VIKING.\n\n    \"This hand, to tyrants ever sworn the foe,\n    For freedom only deals the deadly blow;\n    Then sheathes in calm repose the vengeful blade,\n    For gentle peace in freedom's hallowed shade.\"\n\n    John Quincy Adams.\n\n\nMy vespers were done, and I was bethinking me of retiring to rest, when\nI heard the plaintive voice of Ethel beseeching me to let her come\nwithin my tent. I had scarce time to reply when the poor child came\nrushing into my tent, bathed in tears, and in great distress. I soothed\nher as best I could. Then I gently inquired as to the cause of her\ngrief, when, without answering me, she thrust into my hand the letter of\nthe Prince. \"I scarce know what he means,\" she said, burying her face in\nher hands.\n\nI read the letter with a burning sense of shame and indignation, and my\nheart ached for this poor child who, in the purity of her patriotism and\nher unquenchable love for her country and the Saxon cause, had braved\nthis rough journey and its exposure, in the hope that her woman's\ndevotion might nerve the arms of the remnant of Saxon leaders still left\nto the cause. But this ghastly unmasking of a Prince who was false,\nfickle, shameless, and altogether worthless, was a cruel wound to her--a\nwound that would fester and rankle, but was destined never to heal\nagain. She quietly lifted her tear-stained face, and timidly inquired,\n\"Is it as I feared, Father?\"\n\n\"Alas! my child,\" said I, \"'tis a vile, dishonouring missive, and\naltogether without excuse. To come from a prince, and from a would-be\nking also--'tis sad to think of it.\"\n\n\"My country! my unhappy country! what will become of thee?\" was the\nheart-broken exclamation as she fell at my feet, her long, fair hair\nfalling in dishevelled tresses around.\n\n\"Comfort thee, my poor child,\" said I, though I scarce had heart or hope\nfor anything. I endeavoured to calm her with such soothing, hopeful\nwords as I had at command; but I saw that words were in vain.\n\n\"Father,\" said she, \"my life is a weary burden. My people's woes are\nbreaking my heart. I had vainly hoped that our scattered and hunted\npeople might have been rallied by the presence amongst them of their\nPrince--that factions would have come together, and a bold stand might\nhave been made for liberty; but to find my Prince so poor in valour and\nso rich in all cowardly and licentious feeling--so bereft of honour and\nchivalry as to offer dishonourable proposals to a forlorn and wretched\ngirl like myself--this is more than I can bear. I have watched and\nprayed these two nights, hoping that favouring Heaven would smile upon\nus again, and upon this council. But as I watched in lonely vigil, I\ncould hear no answering voice, saving the soughing of the night-winds in\nthe passes of these lonely hills; and they seemed to bear no message to\nme, saving a message of desolation and death. Is there any rest, any\njoy, for one like me in life, Father? Surely the grave is the only hope\nfor me!\"\n\n\"My poor child,\" said I, \"let us not think of death until He who gave us\nlife shall say 'It is enough.' Let us obey, and submit to the chastening\nhand of our Father in heaven. Perhaps we err greatly in cherishing\nthoughts of resistance and of bloodshed. Let us rejoice that there is a\nkingdom which is stable, and which shall know no end; whose Prince is\nthe Prince of Peace. Angels are its heralds, and saints its warriors.\nLove and mercy are the twin pillars of our Prince's throne; and gentle\nhands and loving hearts may battle for His supremacy. 'Tis a Kingdom in\nwhich torn and bleeding hearts may find the herb called heartsease, and\nsweet content. Into this Kingdom let us press, my child, and for it let\nus contend, for the kingdoms of this world are fickle, and built up on\nfraud and wrong; and they will ultimately shrivel up and pass away like\nthe mists of the morning, and be no more.\"\n\n\"I fear me, Father, that the fierce war-spirit of my ancestors reigns in\nmy heart. I am more than half heathen, it seems to me. I have been\nhoping for revenge for a murdered father and brother, and for a ravished\ncountry. They tell me the fair Torfrida, forsaken by her lord, this\nHereward, has taken shelter in the monastery of Crowland. Shall I join\nher there? This fierce agitation is more than I can bear.\"\n\n\"What does thy heart say, Ethel?\"\n\n\"My heart is not to be trusted, Father, for 'tis wayward and wilful, and\nthere is strong need for some curb, some overmastering restraint, to\ncrush its fierce revolt.\"\n\n\"Thine, I fear, Ethel, is not the nature to bear easily the constraints\nof the cloister, unless it were first schooled by the iron rod of\ndiscipline. Listen to nature's own prompting; I fancy it declares\nstrongly for the freer life of the camp and the field. There is scope\nfor activity, and I think a fair measure of protection, where Oswald is.\nOn his virtue, wisdom, and valour, much depends, and I believe he will\nbe equal to winning many privileges for us.\"\n\n\"Father, may I confide a maiden's secret to thee? I love him whom thou\nhast named. 'Twere heaven, indeed, to share his toils and\nprivations--nay, even to be near him. But 'tis _agony_, and soon I fear\nit will be _sin_. His heart has fallen captive to a Norman lady who\nsaved his life, and I know he cannot be mine. Advise me, Father, in this\nsore strait, I beseech you.\"\n\n\"Thy love is unknown to him, my child, is it not?\"\n\n\"He knows not; I could not bear it for one hour if he knew it.\"\n\n\"'Tis a hard lesson, my poor child, but thou mayest have to learn that\nthe _essence_ of love is _sacrifice_. The human heart will not be\nhindered here, but will raise its own altar, free of all dictation.\nAlas! full oft it must offer itself, and be both priest and victim. Many\nare the sad hearts that here have offered sacrifice before thy day.\nAlas! many here will offer a hopeless, heart-consuming sacrifice when\nthou art gone. If it should be that there is demanded of thee a painful\nact of self-renouncement, strength and fortitude are always given us\nwhen we are minded to do a brave deed. I shall be near, my child; let us\nawait what Providence has in store for us calmly. Lie down upon my\ncouch, and rest. I will lay this matter before our people, and I will\nnot be long.\"\n\nI immediately gathered up the letter, which had fallen at my feet, and\nbetook myself to the yeoman's dwelling-house, and knocked at the door.\nThere was immediately a hush of voices, and some one under his breath\nsaid, \"Who knocks?\" \"Adhelm,\" said I. My voice was well known to many\nwho were inside, and the door was opened without more ado. Gathered\nhere, evidently in secret conclave, were Sigurd and a number of the\nfollowers of the Prince. Their lowering brows told me plainly that\nmischief was brewing; nevertheless, I determined to execute my purpose,\ncome what might. The Prince said,--\n\n\"What wouldest thou have with us, reverend Father? We are now discussing\npurposes of bloodshed, unfitted, I fear, for saintly ears. But if thou\nwilt be brief, our royal pleasure shall be at thy service.\"\n\n\"I am afraid my message is one which can scarcely be welcome to your\nHighness's ears; nevertheless, it is enjoined upon a bishop that he be\nfound faithful.\"\n\n\"Well, be faithful an' thou wilt, Bishop; but let not thy exordium be\ndrawn out any longer than is necessary. So to the point without further\nprevarication, an' it please you.\"\n\n\"Well, to the point then, Prince,\" said I. \"I hold in my hands an\nepistle, which purports to have come from your Highness, and is\naddressed to the Saxon maiden, Ethel. I would fain know if it is indeed\nfrom yourself.\"\n\n\"What have I to do to answer thy impertinent questions, priest?\" said\nhe, snatching the letter from my hands.\n\n\"Since it is so, and as I feared, I have to denounce thee, Prince, as\nbecomes my office; and I say fearlessly that the offering of\ndishonouring proposals such as these to a virtuous and gentle maiden, is\nan act of unblushing infamy, and I disown thee and thy cause.\"\n\n\"I am a thousand times thy debtor, dog of a priest, if thou wilt rid me\nof thy presence, and of all such eavesdropping carrion, who worm\nthemselves into the secrets of silly wenches, to the annoyance of their\nbetters.\"\n\n\"Stay a moment, sire,\" said Sigurd, who was evidently in a towering\nrage. \"I would know further of this matter. If thou hast offered an\ninsult to this girl, to this Ethel, _I_ have something to say to thee,\nas well as this priest. Let me see that letter,\" said he, striving to\ntake it from the Prince's hand; but the Prince hastily drew back, and\nattempted to tear it in pieces. Sigurd instantly grasped him with his\niron fists, and wrung the letter from him as though he were a child;\nthen, handing it to me, he said, \"Read it for us, priest. I have no\nscholar's gear.\"\n\nI took the epistle and read it in the hearing of the assembled company.\nWhen I had finished it, Sigurd drew his sword, and stalking up to the\nPrince, he said,--\n\n\"I will cut thy craven soul from thy craven body for offering this\ninsult to the daughter of Beowulf.\"\n\nHalf a dozen hands, however, immediately grasped him, and kept him from\nhis purpose; but, standing like a tiger at bay, his words coming hissing\nthrough his foaming lips with tumultuous rage, he shouted,--\n\n\"I disown thee, too, dastardly villain, for I perceive there is not a\ndrop of honest blood, either Saxon or Skald, in thy craven body! Get\nthee gone quickly, for I warn thee to pollute no longer Saxon soil with\nthy loathsome, cowardly presence. And beware, too! for if to-morrow's\nsun finds thee within reach of my arm, I will avenge this insult in thy\ncoward's blood.\"\n\nI confess I could not but look with admiration on this sturdy descendant\nof the Viking rovers. Though he was rough and uncouth as the wild hills\nof Westmoreland, over which he had hunted and fought from his youth, yet\nhe loved the beautiful Ethel with a love as deep and pure as a\nmother's--a love so utterly unselfish that he would willingly renounce\nhis hope and his claim, nor murmur if Ethel's love should find its\nrequital in the love of Oswald. But he was beside himself with rage when\nhe found that this fair Saxon, whose love was of priceless value to him,\nshould be deemed a fitting object of this princeling's insults. It is\nneedless to say that this unprincipled act alienated finally the small\nremnant of Saxons who hitherto had hoped to see Edgar occupy the throne,\nlast filled by the valorous Harold.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII.\n\nBADGER ON THE ALERT.\n\n    \"A thing of shreds and patches.\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\nAfter the incidents narrated in the foregoing chapter, there followed a\nscene of complete disorder. Many of those who were well affected towards\nthe Prince and his cause, fell away from him, and quitted the dwelling\nwith Sigurd and myself; and speedily the Atheling was left quite alone,\nsaving his personal friends, who had journeyed with him from Scotland,\nand who were mostly foreigners.\n\nWhilst this had been transpiring, most of the camp was wrapped in\nprofound slumber. The followers and housecarles who had accompanied\ntheir masters, had found resting-places in the outhouses, amid the hay\nand bracken which had been accumulated for the fodder and bedding of the\ncattle during the winter months. But Badger was ill at ease amid it all.\nSome presentiment of evil disturbed his slumbers, and he turned uneasily\nagain and again; finally he sprang bolt upright, and grasped his sword,\nat the same time giving Wulfhere a rough shake, which thoroughly roused\nhim also on the instant.\n\n\"What is the matter, Badger? Anything amiss?\"\n\n\"Hush! there are men astir in the camp. I warrant there is some mischief\nabroad, and I'll know the bottom of it.\"\n\nAt that moment two men entered stealthily at the farther end, where the\nhorses were stalled. Wulfhere and Badger drew their swords, and\ninstinctively ran their fingers down the blades in the darkness. The\nmovements of the two men were plainly visible to the watchers, for the\nmoonlight streaming in through the open door showed their outline very\ndistinctly as they moved to and fro. Immediately the men began to saddle\nseveral horses belonging to the Prince, and then they led them out.\n\n\"There is a move of some sort, Wulfhere, and I warrant mischief is in\nit, for there are snakes about. A murrain on them! I am determined to\nknow what it means. You stay here,\" said Badger--he, at the same time,\nstealing noiselessly out at the opposite end of the building.\n\nAs soon as he reached the open air, he saw, across the enclosure, that\nthere were lights in the dwelling; so he nimbly dodged round, keeping in\nthe shadow of the buildings, until he reached the rear of the house.\nThere, peering through a crazy, patched window, he not only saw what was\ngoing on inside, but he overheard this conversation between the Atheling\nand his favourite Alred:--\n\n\"My stomach will stand no more on't, sweet Alred. Such a ruffian,\nboorish crew are not fit company for a prince. Then I believe that huge,\nover-grown Norse clown would carry out his threat, and take my life in a\nmoment, if he got the chance. Curses on them all! Upon my soul, I wish\nthe Normans would swoop down upon them, and cut the vile hogs into\nmincemeat.\"\n\n\"Bravo, Prince! That is a Heaven-sent suggestion, upon my soul!\"\ninterjected Alred. \"I match you against any one of the seven sages.\nWhew! it just jumps with my humour. The Normans are in force, too, not\nmore than half a dozen miles away. What a _tour-de-force_ to bring the\nNormans down upon them by the morning! 'Twould be a stroke of policy\nWilliam could not excel. Ah! look here--speaking of William: he would\nload you with favours, and replenish your royal treasury bountifully;\nthen, heigho! there would always be a flowing bowl of Rhenish, or good\nCanary, and the sweet blue eyes of my lady-love would sparkle again. A\nfig for a kingdom, and the toiling and moiling of it! Give me the jolly\nlife where care sits lightly, and my own sweet will can be indulged. To\nRouen, say I again, with William's goodwill and his gold pieces!\"\n\n\"Let us away, Alred! Upon my soul, revenge is sweet. You say right, too;\nwhen one does a service for William, there follow royal gifts enow. I\nwould rather have a double purpose than a bootless errand, any day?\nWhere are the churls who are saddling the horses?\"\n\nHaving overheard this speech, Badger darted back to his comrade, who was\nawaiting his return impatiently.\n\n\"Heigho, Wulfhere! this princeling plots mischief. He will betray the\ncamp, the hound, I do believe. Come along; let us dog his footsteps.\"\n\nSo the pair sallied out of the enclosure in the wake of the Prince, his\nparasites, and several serving-men. The party slowly threaded their way\nthrough the woods and entered a narrow defile between precipitous hills\non either side; all the while being steadily followed by the two Saxons.\nSuddenly, on one side, the mountain range came to an abrupt termination,\nending in a bold promontory running up to a point. At this juncture the\nvalley broadened out into magnificent proportions, and a spacious lake\nof water gleamed in the darkness. Turning to the left, they skirted the\nlake for a couple of miles or more. Suddenly, however, they were\nconfronted by a pair of Norman sentries, who challenged the party, and\nsome time was spent in _pourparlers_; then one of the sentries\naccompanied them to the Norman encampment, not more than a quarter of a\nmile away, the lurid light of their fires making visible some portions\nof the Norman quarters.\n\nWulfhere and Badger were obliged to come to a halt, for the remaining\nsentry barred their further progress, even if they dared come nearer the\nencampment of the enemy. They waited and watched until they saw the\nforms of the Prince and his followers come within the circle of light\nthrown off by the blazing wood fires.\n\n\"Now,\" said Wulfhere, \"there is nothing more to be done, Badger, I\nthink. Let us go back now, and promptly warn our friends.\"\n\n\"Hold there, Wulfhere; there is something more to be done. Get _thee_\nback, and do thine errand. I have a little further business here, I can\nsee. Tell the Earl I shall be rounding the great Nab's Head about break\nof day.\"\n\n\"What hast thou in the wind, Badger? Thou wilt be hazarding one prank\ntoo many some of these days.\"\n\n\"Never fear, comrade, I know my way about, whether it be light or dark.\nBesides, my business is such as would disgrace a half-bred knight like\nthyself. Dost thou see, Grizzly here, and myself, have no dignity to\nuphold? so we may do anything either boldly or slily, as it suits our\nhumour, if it only brings grist to the mill. Well, now be off. There is\nno time to talk, for it only hinders business. Come, Grizzly,\" said\nBadger, addressing his hound as soon as the form of Wulfhere was lost to\nview. \"You know, Grizzly, you and I are not supposed to be above\nborrowing a few head of cattle, or to be too proud to do our own\ndroving, at a pinch.\"\n\nThe fact was, the lynx eyes of Badger had espied a herd of cattle lying\ntogether under the trees by the side of the lake, although the darkness\nwas so deep that none but keen eyes would have detected their presence.\nHe had seen them at once, and instantly his nimble brain began revolving\nsome scheme for carrying them off.\n\n\"The cackling and talking has come to naught, as it mostly does,\" said\nhe grunting to himself; \"but beshrew me if I like a bootless errand.\nI'll try a cast of my own net, whether there is aught to it or not.\"\n\nNow there was but one formidable obstacle in the way, and that was the\nsolitary sentinel who still stood at his post, and who continued slowly\npacing to and fro in a limited space.\n\nBadger turned to the hound and addressed him, for he was in the habit of\nhaving sundry conferences with his favourite, who had partnered him in\nmany a daring exploit.\n\n\"Well, Grizzly, what is to be done now? Eh, sir? We must have yon\ncattle, Grizzly, come fair or come foul. There is this scurvy Norman in\nthe way. What are we to do with him? I think we can dispose of him\nsomehow or other. What say you?\"\n\nGrizzly answered by a vigorous attempt to lick Badger's chops.\n\n\"Eh, sir? I don't doubt but we can finish him off easily enough, you and\nI together, Grizzly. But what will our Abbot say? Are you aware, sir,\nthat you and I have a sacred calling--that we belong to the monastic\norder? Don't you remember the many sermons we have from our Abbot, on\nloving our enemies? I don't quite see the turn of the wit in the case of\nthese Norman dogs, somehow or other. No doubt it is sound doctrine\nenough, but bad to practise. Well, let that pass. I have a feeling,\nthough, I would rather not brain this fellow, if another turn will serve\nas well. Now it would certainly ease my mind to do it if I caught him,\n_flagrante delicto, flagrante delicto_. Grizzly, did you note, that is\nthe _monk_ that is speaking? You see I can mouth my Latin when it\npleases me, Grizzly. There is many a scurvy monk knows less. But I say,\nGrizzly, I fancy the fellow's knees are knocking together already with\nfear at being left alone, and that is very suggestive. Let us try\nplaying ghost with him.\"\n\nSo saying, Badger divested himself of his upper garments, leaving his\nshoulders and the upper parts of his body exposed. Then he took the\ngarments and tied them deftly about the shoulders of Grizzly, giving him\na most strange and uncouth appearance. Having done this, and without\nexposing themselves to view, Badger commenced to give forth, in a low\ntone, the most dismal groans, and varying this by most piercing shrieks\nof pain.\n\nThe Norman turned a terrified gaze in the direction from whence these\nstrange noises came, evidently in great trepidation and fear. Then he\ndarted off a few paces, as though about to beat a hasty retreat. This\nwas enough. Badger saw at once that the ruse would answer. So, without\nmore ado, he dropped down on all fours, and, accompanied by the dog,\neach of them presenting a most unearthly and fantastic appearance, they\nstarted off in the direction of the sentinel, the groans and shrieking\nof Badger deepening, and becoming most diabolical in tone and intensity.\n\nThe Norman for one moment turned a scared gaze on the advancing figures,\nwhich appeared to him to be none other than the Saxon devil Zernebock,\nof which many Normans went in mortal dread. Then, with the speed of the\nwind, he took to his heels and dashed off towards the camp. Quick as\nthought, Badger freed the dog from his trammels, and bade him fetch the\ncattle. In a very few minutes he was making off, all speed, with the\nherd.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII.\n\nDOG ROBS DOG.\n\n    \"I am but a gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff.\"\n\n    Sir Henry Wotton.\n\n\nBadger, with his valuable plunder, had four good hours start ere\ndaybreak, which was as early as the Normans would be likely to discover\ntheir loss. It was slow and tedious work driving cattle through the\npasses, and the wooded country, and the most that he could hope for in\nthe way of start would be eight or ten miles. But there was considerable\nprobability that the enemy would plan a night attack upon the Saxons,\nand in that case, if the loss was discovered by those remaining in camp,\nthey would be quite unprepared for pursuit; and if no start could be\nmade by them before the return of the expedition, then he would have his\nprize safely aboard the schooner.\n\nIn the meantime, Wulfhere, summarily dismissed by his comrade, returned\nto the Saxon camp, ruminating upon the strange vagaries of Badger's wit.\nHe nothing doubted but that some sufficient purpose, if not some daring\nexploit, dictated his erratic movements. When he reached the encampment,\nhe lost no time in rousing his chieftain, Oswald. After a brief\nconsultation, they decided at once to rouse the whole camp. Then a\ncouncil of war was held by the leaders. Hereward and Sigurd were for\nforming an ambush, and trying a brush with the foe; but the more prudent\nwere very doubtful about the success of such a movement, seeing the\nNormans were far more numerous than they. Ultimately, it was decided not\nto risk an engagement. So hasty preparations were made, and in less than\nan hour's time the camp was broken up, and each party chose its own\nroute for retreat.\n\n\"Wulfhere,\" said Oswald, when we had collected our little party, and had\nstarted home. \"I miss Badger. Is he on before?\"\n\n\"Well, I almost think he will be, my lord, though I left him lurking\nwithin a bowshot of a Norman sentinel, and within sight of their camp\nfires. What he had in his head I know not. Some crank, I warrant, by\nmeans of which he will get the best of the enemy.\"\n\n\"He will be venturing too far, I doubt, some day, and he will find he\nhas got his head in a noose which all his ingenuity will not enable him\nto slip.\"\n\n\"No fear, my lord. It will take all the wit in the Norman camp to put\nhim in a corner where there is not room enough for him to wriggle out.\nThere is something in that old pate of his which will make him a match\nfor them all, and something to spare. I have an opinion he will\ncircumvent grim Death with some dodge or other.\"\n\n\"Well, he will know that we shall be bound homewards, I suppose, and he\nwill follow when it suits his humour to do so.\"\n\n\"Nay, I fancy he will be ahead of us even now. He gave me instructions\nthat he would be rounding the Great Nab's head at daybreak, so we may\nhope to meet with him ere long.\"\n\nThus we kept steadily pressing on through the darkness, and ere long the\nbeams of the morning sun shot up athwart the eastern sky, and our march\nbecame much more easy and pleasant. By-and-by we rounded the bluff\npromontory indicated by Badger, and known as the \"Great Nab's head;\" and\nshortly we espied Badger, and his comrade Grizzly, seated most\ncontentedly on a mossy bank, Badger regaling himself with a hunch of\nbread, and salt beef, whilst Grizzly, foraging for himself, was putting\nthe finishing touches to a rabbit he had killed.\n\n\"Well, Badger,\" said the Earl, \"alive and well, I see. What exploit have\nyou been perpetrating? Reconnoitring the Norman camp, eh?\"\n\n\"Reconnoitring, my lord? Mercy on us, no!--if that means sitting on a\nboulder like a moulting fowl, and gazing at nothing in particular. I\nnever reconnoitre; that means _can_ anything be done. I always _know_\nsomething can be done if one sets about it.\"\n\n\"Very good philosophy, Badger--well to the point. What have you been\n_doing_, then? What is the trick this time? and have you been found out\nfor once in a way?\"\n\n\"Just come with me, my lord, and we'll see.\"\n\nSo saying, he led us over the shoulder of the hill, revealing to us a\nlovely little dell where there was a stream of fresh water and an\nabundance of fresh green herbage. Here, also, were about twenty head of\ncattle browsing lustily.\n\n\"There, my lord. I thought we should have a bootless errand, for the\nwagging of tongues and the cackling of geese I never could understand;\nthey are both pointless, and equally profitable. I never was a great\nhand at crooning since I was a baby, so I give that business up. But I\nowe a grudge to the Normans, and I borrowed these few cattle from them.\nThey will be of service, I trow, on the top of the hill. And if you find\nyou don't need them, why, there's no harm done--send them back again.\"\n\n\"Well, every man wields his own staff best, Badger. You do credit to\nyours. But I think we had better be moving, or the Normans may fetch\nthem before they get to their journey's end.\"\n\n\"Quite ready, my lord. We can now reach the boat without another halt,\nif the Normans do not dock our tails in the meantime. Come, Grizzly, the\ndrover's trade is a thriving trade in these times. The thieving Scot and\nthe robber Dane have turned over their business to honester men. I never\ndreamed it was so respectable and well-spoken a trade as I find it to be\nnow.\"\n\nSo saying, Badger and his hound set about collecting the beasts, and\nsoon we were able to resume our march with as much celerity as we could\ncommand. Everybody seemed anxious to hear Badger's recital of his\nexploit, which he told us with much grim humour, and evidently much\ninward relish.\n\nWe were able to reach our destination without molestation from the\nenemy, their energies being fully occupied by other matters until we had\ngot clear away. It was thought desirable not to embark until nightfall,\nunless we were compelled to do so; for it was more than probable, had we\nput out to sea, the movements of the vessel would have been observed by\nthe enemy. A gangway, however, was laid ready for emergencies, whilst\nscouts were posted at points of observation, thus making it impossible\nfor us to be surprised. During the day, the cattle were permitted to\ngraze in the wood near, and when the shades of night gathered about us,\nthey were driven aboard, and we weighed anchor and stood across the bay.\nUltimately we reached our destination without mishap, though we had, in\nconsequence of our cattle, to travel with the utmost circumspection.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV.\n\nWILD DARING OF SIGURD THE VIKING.\n\n    \"When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug of war.\"\n\n    Nathaniel Lee.\n\n\nIt was a most grievous disappointment to Sigurd when the Saxon leaders\nfinally decided not to attack the Normans, and thus checkmate them as\nthey sought to capture the Saxons whilst in council. When he saw that\nthere was no hope of the Saxons uniting in this, he appealed most\nimportunately to Hereward to join him, but in vain. When everything\nfailed, so insatiate was his thirst for vengeance that he determined to\nattack them single-handed, trusting to his prowess, and his familiarity\nwith the passes and the mountain retreats, to secure for himself\nimmunity from capture.\n\n\"If I had but a dozen of my hardy mountaineers, I would lead these\nNormans a dance before this day was done!\" he muttered, as he saw the\nremnant of the Saxons departing. His hatred of the Normans had so eaten\ninto his soul, that every opportunity to attack them was a favourable\none, and he was ready for any scheme of wild daring if only Norman blood\ncould be spilled. So, alone, he grimly and resolutely strode up the\npass, until he reached a spot he deemed suitable for his purpose.\nBoulders and bushes intermingled thickly on one side; on the other was a\nprecipice--a sheer drop of twenty feet into a trout-stream, which\nthreaded its way amid limestone boulders.\n\nBehind him the gaunt, gloomy mountains shot up far away, their lower\nparts covered thickly with bracken, bushes, and boulders; behind and\namid which a retreating figure need never be exposed for more than a\nsecond at a time. Looking around for a second or two, he gave a grunt of\nsatisfaction, and then he climbed a few yards from the path, and laid\nhimself down amid the bracken and deep grass, with his broad sword\nunsheathed and laid by his side, ready for the fray. Thus he waited for\nthe oncoming Norman soldiery. For more than an hour he lay thus in\nambush, with wild and turbulent passions fermenting in his breast, and a\nwild look in his eyes--reason for the moment dethroned by this one\novermastering passion.\n\nPresently on the still night air was borne the sound of stealthy\nfootsteps. Sigurd bounded to his feet as the first sounds broke upon his\near. He fixed tightly his helmet, closed his visor, and adjusted his\ncoat of link-mail, which had swung a little awry. Then, grasping his\npowerful broadsword, he made a vigorous lunge at an invisible foe, and\nthen, with a grunt of satisfaction, he took his stand behind a massive\nboulder, flanked on the side next the advancing foe with a thick network\nof shrubs, through which, however, he could watch the movements of the\nNormans. The darkness was ebbing away fast. Already the morning's sun\nhad smitten the head of mighty Helvellyn in the distance, and bathed his\nkingly head in a halo of golden glory; but substantial remains of\nlaggard night still hung moodily about the bottom of the pass, as though\nnature, in shame and sadness, would fain cast her mantle over this mad\nstrife of men, and over the deed about to be enacted before her eyes.\nSlowly, with hushed voices and stealthy tread, on came the unsuspecting\nfoe. The head of the column threaded its way past the lurking-place.\nSigurd clenched his sword with an impatient grip, for the sight of\nNorman foemen, within reach of his sword, was well nigh more than he\ncould resist. On they passed, all unconscious that a human tiger was\nlurking near and making ready for his spring. File after file of the\nNormans strode on, mostly afoot, but some were leading their horses. Now\nthe rear men are abreast. A second more, their backs are seen. A spring\nand a blow, and the hindmost Norman is cloven to the waist, and drops\nwith scarce a groan. There is a wild shriek, and consternation is\nrampant amongst the rearmost ranks.\n\nSigurd, in mad rage, hacks and hews at the panic-stricken crew, cutting\ndown man after man with terrific celerity, whilst some, in their efforts\nto escape his onslaught, fall over the precipice. Presently the Normans\ndiscover that but one solitary Saxon attacks them. A shout goes up, \"The\nmad Saxon! Cut him down! Down with him! Run him through!\" Immediately a\nhundred swords are whipped from their scabbards, and a united rush is\ndirected towards him. Sigurd sees his chance is gone; he dashes along\nthe path in swift retreat, followed by the yelling foe. Presently he\ndarts from the path and makes for the hills, tearing through bracken,\nfurze, and brushwood, and leaping boulders with an agility none but a\nmountaineer and a hunter who had been wont all his life to go swinging\nover these mountain sides, until the sinews of his legs had become like\nthongs of steel, could make pretence to imitate. Presently he turns to\nglance at the crew behind, and he laughs a savage laugh as he sees them\nhuddling together like sheep at the bottom of the pass, some afraid to\nfollow, and all of them conscious of the hopelessness of it. With an\nexclamation of contempt, he catches up a fragment of rock and hurls it\nwith terrific energy amongst them, striking one of them on the shoulder,\nand knocking him to the ground with a broken shoulder-blade. Then, with\na hysterical laugh, and a fierce brandish aloft of his sword, he dashes\noff again towards the summit. With wondering gaze the Normans watch him\nscaling, ridge after ridge, the beetling brow of the hill far above\nthem, like a stag bounding from the hunter. Presently he darts over the\ntopmost ridge, and is lost to view. He halts in a tiny hollow of the\nmountain's brow, and, pulling out his sword, dripping with gore, he\nwipes it on the sward.\n\n\"Aha!\" he cried, apostrophising the fearsome weapon; \"One more taste of\nblood! Norman blood, too. I love to see Norman blood. It drips, too;\nthat means more will soon be shed.\"[5] Then, running his hand along its\nedge, he exclaimed, \"Nothing blunted, my trusty friend Tyrfing,[6] ready\nas ever for the fray!\" he shouted in frenzy, and commenced to hack and\nhew as though in deadly conflict with an invisible foe, the perspiration\npouring off him in streams. But human nature, though it be never so\nstrong, has its limits. This frenzied, this almost maniacal outburst,\nwas followed by complete physical exhaustion. Like a stone, he dropped\nflat upon the ground, and there he lay without motion or any sign of\nexistence whatever for a full hour or more. Had the Normans but known of\nthe wild drama being enacted beyond the brow of the mountain, it would\nhave been a fatal day to Sigurd, for the Normans had had so many tastes\nof his prowess, and of his mad daring, that they would have given large\ntreasure to have this dreaded foe within their power. But this was not\ndestined to be the last time when he should strike terror into their\nranks when they least suspected him.\n\n[Footnote 5: It was a Norse superstition that if the blood flowed, more\nwould soon be shed.]\n\n[Footnote 6: The foe hater.]\n\nThe sun had performed a considerable part of his day's journey when\nSigurd began to manifest signs of returning consciousness. First there\nwere sundry stretchings of the muscles, followed by a momentary\nunclosing of the eyelids. Then he sat up and gazed around, as though\nbewildered with his surroundings. By-and-by he seemed to recover a\nrecollection of the incidents preceding the stupor he had been passing\nthrough. By an effort he rose to his feet, and staggered rather than\nwalked to a cool spring of water, which, born of the clouds which\nconstantly encircled these lofty peaks, was hurrying away with musical\nripple to the lowlands. He drank a hearty draught of the ice-cold water;\nthen he bathed his throbbing temples with it. Sitting down then, and\ntaking from a wallet slung behind him a substantial piece of roast kid's\nflesh and a hunch of bread, he ate a hearty meal, and washed it down\nwith another copious draught of water. Much refreshed by this, he next\nmounted to the topmost ridge. There, lying at full length, he ran his\neye most minutely over every inch of the valleys on either side,\ncarefully noting every suspicious object that came within the sweep of\nhis vision. Then, with equal care, he searched the adjacent hills. The\nNormans he could see hurrying to and fro near their camp, some five\nmiles away. But apparently there was nothing at all menacing to his\nposition.\n\nRising to his feet, he strode along the ridge for a mile or two, then\ncommenced to descend for another mile or two, in an oblique direction,\nuntil he disappeared from view in a dense wood, which covered the lower\nreaches of the valley on either side. Holding a downward course, and\npushing aside the brushwood, he came ultimately to a stream of water,\nwhich, with one gigantic leap, started from its rocky bed and leaped\nunimpeded full eighty feet, falling into a deep, surging pool, where the\nwaters, finding a level, flowed sluggishly away. The vast amphitheatre\nappeared to have been worn away by this leap of the waters, and by the\ncrumbling away of the softer shale below, which had undermined and\nbrought down the rocks from above.\n\nThis untamed warrior stood on the brink of the precipice with folded\narms. There was something in the scene which consorted with his rude and\nrugged nature, and wonderfully soothed his warring passions. The daws,\nwith cawing clamorousness, flew to and fro across the abyss, and crept\ninto the crevices of the rock where their nests were. The swallows\nskimmed along the surface of the waters, ever and anon darting upwards\nto some skilfully made nest of baked clay, clinging to the rocky sides,\nand from which little black heads were anxiously peeping, and twittering\nlustily. Bird life here seemed to have found a veritable paradise, and\nthey literally thronged bush and tree, and rock and bank, everywhere.\nSigurd stood gazing down the ravine through an interminable labyrinth of\nfoliage-laden trees. Here was a grand solitude such as his soul loved,\nand he regarded every tree in the forest as a personal friend. Presently\nhe turned to one side of this abyss, and steadfastly regarded three\nstones which were laid side by side for a moment or two; then he altered\nthe position of one of them, and immediately dropped down on to a\nshelving rock, and from that to another, and so on, until he had\ndescended a considerable distance. Then suddenly he disappeared on hands\nand knees into an aperture of the rock which was completely hidden from\nthe view of any one standing above. As soon as this portal was passed,\nhe found himself in a spacious cavern, where evidently men were wont to\nresort, for there were many things denoting human occupation. Sigurd\nhastily threw off his armour and reared his sword, with the belt\nappended, against the rock. Then he threw himself upon a couch of dried\nbracken and grass, and was soon fast asleep.\n\nPresently two wild-looking men appeared on the scene. One carried a\nbrace of rabbits, and the other had over his shoulder a young fawn;\nwhilst at their heels there followed a couple of fierce-looking hounds.\nThey looked at the three stones, and one of them exclaimed,--\n\n\"The Jarl is here!\"\n\n\"Doubtful luck that,\" growled the other.\n\nThey, however, changed the position of the other two stones, and then\nthey followed their chieftain to his retreat. No sooner did they enter\nthan one prepared to light a fire, and the other to skin and dress the\nanimals they had brought. As soon as this was done, a huge iron pot was\nsuspended on cross-poles over the fire, with about a gallon of water. In\nthis were thrown a couple of haunches of venison with the rabbits. Then\none of them turned to a vessel in which a quantity of corn was steeping\nin water. Two or three pounds of this, along with some savoury herbs and\nroots, and a quantity of salt, were deposited in the pot. Then the pair\nsat down to await the cooking of this substantial and savoury mess.\nWhilst this was being done, Sigurd slept soundly, and the pair carried\non a conversation in a low tone, and interspersing their talk with\nsundry nods and motions towards the sleeping chieftain.\n\n\"There will be stirring times again, now, I warrant,\" said one.\n\n\"Yes; plenty of blood-letting, and plenty of scurrying over the\nmountains with the Normans at our heels,\" said the other.\n\n\"There will soon be none of us left, either for fight or aught else.\nThere has been a desperate thinning going on.\"\n\n\"Well, it won't be a cow's death, anyhow, and that is some comfort for\nus.\"\n\nSoon the boiling-pot began to send forth a most savoury and appetising\nsmell, to these half-famished men.\n\n\"Wake the Jarl,\" said one to the other; \"he must first break his fast.\"\n\nSo one of them gave Sigurd a rough shaking, and he presently sat up and\nrubbed his eyes; then he saluted his men.\n\n\"Skalds, how fare ye?\"\n\n\"The hawks have not been so much abroad of late, so we have fared\ntolerably.\"\n\n\"But ye'll soon have to be on the alert, for the old eagle has been\nplaying havoc with the hawks down in the pass yonder; a dozen of them at\nleast will swoop upon their prey no more. But I'll taste your stew. Hot\nvictuals have not been plentiful lately. Where are your comrades?\"\n\n\"Scattered a good deal. There are a dozen lurking among the pikes. Some,\nthe family men, have snug quarters near Deepwaters.\"\n\n\"Make signals for them. We have been idle long enough. We must bestir\nourselves, for the Norman gets a tighter grip upon us every day we are\nidle.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV.\n\nTHE SAXON DEVIL AND THE WICKED ABBOT.\n\n                            \"When night\n    Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons\n    Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.\"\n\n    Milton.\n\n\nMost humiliating and distressing to us _Saxon_ monks was the state of\nlax morality in which these foreign monks lived. One of the worst vices\nimported into England by the Normans was that of uncleanness, a vice\npractically unknown amongst Saxons, and looked upon by them with great\nabhorrence. This was an offence, too, which the hardy Norsemen regarded\nwith loathing. Fierce and blood-thirsty as they were, seduction,\nadultery, and the violation of the sanctity of blood-relationship, they\ndetested. Amongst the Normans, not only the wild troopers, but the monks\nalso, lived loose, irregular lives; and the chief and vilest offender,\nin this respect, was our new Abbot. Many were the outrages perpetrated\nby this man. Night by night, under cover of the darkness, he issued from\nthe Monastery with lascivious intent, often accompanying his outrages by\ncrime and bloodshed if he met with opposition. In vain I sought the\nassistance of Alice, who entreated the Count, her father; but he was\neither powerless, or cynical and indifferent--probably both. Sometimes a\nfierce check was given to these scoundrels by a sudden outburst of rage\nand revenge on the part of the Saxons; but for the most part, the Saxons\nwho meekly submitted to serfdom were the most abject of their race,\nbeing often so broken in spirit that they submitted to unfathomable\nindignities, rather than face the consequences of opposition. Indeed,\nany display of spirit, and any act of retaliation or revenge, was sure\nto be followed by the most cruel vindictiveness, and most sweeping\npunishment. I stay to note one act of retaliation done to our Abbot by\nBadger, on one occasion, when the Abbot was bent on carrying his\nunscrupulous violence to the cottage of one of the serfs. I note it\nbecause of its comicality, as well as its effectiveness in punishing the\nvicious priest.\n\nNow the Abbot, though it will scarcely be believed, was, in spite of his\nturbulent wickedness, a most abjectly superstitious man, as indeed most\nignorant and wicked people are. Of this fact Badger, who was a most\nobservant and shrewd judge of character, quickly became aware; and,\ntaking advantage of this weakness, he used it to teach the Abbot a most\nvaluable and salutary lesson. One of the serfs had frequently made most\ndoleful complaints to Badger of the violation of the sanctities of his\nhome by this man. Now Badger most cordially hated the Abbot, as indeed\nany one who knew the man could not fail to do; and on the other hand,\nhis sympathies, either openly or veiled, were always extended to his\ncountrymen, and he frequently wrought substantial amelioration in their\nlot. Badger turned this matter over in his mind, and at last hit upon a\nplan which he conceived would have the desired effect if successfully\ncarried out. So, making use of his old expedient, he decked himself most\nfantastically as the Saxon \"Zernebock\" or devil. He expended much skill\nand ingenuity in the manufacture of some wondrously grotesque apparel,\nintroducing a pair of horns and a tail after the orthodox fashion. In\naddition to this, he had also decked out one of the most savage of his\nhounds in a most fantastic garb, and, so disguised and ludicrously\ntricked out, they sallied forth at eventime, intent on frustrating the\nAbbot's vile intentions. Having selected their place of ambush, they\npatiently lay in wait for the object of their enterprise, bent both on\nterrifying and worrying him into a relinquishment of his devilish\npurpose.\n\nThe night selected as fitting for Badger's enterprise was moonless and\nsomewhat dark, especially so within the added shade of the forest.\nHaving selected a suitable place, Badger lay quietly in wait until he\nheard the approaching footsteps of the Abbot; then he strode into the\npath with the hound by his side, and together they fronted the object of\ntheir quest. Great was the consternation of the Abbot when he confronted\nthis awful apparition. His knees smote together, and his teeth chattered\nin his head, as the awful voice of the fiend accosted him in angry\ntones.\n\n\"Abbot, I know thy errand; I am the Saxon devil 'Zernebock,' and this is\nmy Hel-hound. I have come to kill thee, and my hound will tear thee in\npieces, for thy cup of wickedness is now full; I give thee, therefore,\ntwo minutes in which to prepare for death.\"\n\nSo saying, the fiend uplifted a mighty sword, which seemed to the Abbot\nto tower almost to the height of the trees. It was a wooden one, but the\nnight was too dark for this to be perceived, even if the victim had not\nbeen too terror-stricken to note it.\n\nIn a terrible fright he fell on his knees and began to call upon all the\nsaints to protect him, writhing and groaning piteously.\n\n\"Silence!\" said the fiend in still more awful tones. \"Thou must die! I\nhave been waiting long for permission to slay thee! The saints will not\nprotect thee any longer, for thou hast professed to be a holy man, and\nthou art bent this night on an errand of wickedness, and I have\npermission to kill thee at last. Thy life is now in my hands. Art thou\nready?\" again roared the fiend in savage tones, whilst the hound, seeing\nthe threatening attitude of his master, waxed furious, snarling and\ngrowling savagely, and making many half-executed attempts to fly at the\nAbbot, which half a word of encouragement from the fiend would have\ncompleted. \"Speak!\" said the fiend, \"thy time is now expired.\"\n\nAnd the uplifted sword began most ominously to sway to and fro, as\nthough about to fall.\n\n\"Have mercy on me, fiend!\" screamed the Abbot, \"and I will make a vow to\nthee that I will repent me of my sins, and I will cease from fleshly\nlusts! I will set about mortifying my flesh this very night! I vow to\nabstain from meats and strong drink for the space of twelve months if\nthou wilt have mercy on me.\"\n\n\"Silence when I bid thee!\" again roared the fiend. \"I know thee for a\nhypocrite, and thou wilt not abide thy vow. Art thou ready? Quick! bow\nthy head, so that I cut it off clean.\"\n\nQuick as thought in this dire strait the Abbot sprang to his feet, and\nfled with miraculous energy for one so stout and pursy.\n\n\"Hist! hist!\" said the fiend to his hound.\n\nThere was a fierce growl and a few long, slouching strides, and the\nhound grasped the Abbot's nether parts in his powerful jaws; and with a\nyell of pain his reverence fell prone upon his face, writhing, groaning,\nwriggling, and yelling, as though ten thousand fiends clutched him. But\nthe hound clung to him like a vice, chawing his struggling prey the more\nlustily as he tried to shake him off. At last the fiend called off his\nhound; but at the same time he lifted his sword over the prostrate\nAbbot.\n\n\"It is no use thy attempting to fly; thy doom is come, and I am here to\nkill thee. Choose at once whether thou wilt be torn in pieces by my\nhound or slain by my fiery sword; there is no escape for thee.\"\n\n\"Have mercy, fiend!\" groaned the Abbot piteously; \"thy hound hath\nwell-nigh killed me already. His teeth are red hot, as thou well\nknowest. I shall surely die now, after the savage manner he hath torn\nme. In mercy leave me the little time left me for repentance. Think of\nmy poor soul.\"\n\n\"I am the foul fiend, and there is no mercy now for thee. Thy soul is\nforfeited and given into my hands; but what of thy body? decide quick!\nShall I kill thee, or wilt thou be devoured by my hound?\"\n\nJust at that moment, however, the fiend was interrupted, for footsteps\nand voices were heard approaching, and presently a couple of troopers,\nattracted by the terrible howling of the Abbot, drew near. As they did\nso the fiend and his hound promptly disappeared in the wood.\n\nAs these troopers timidly and fearfully advanced to the spot, to their\nconsternation they beheld the Abbot lying flat along, and bellowing like\nany bull of Bashan, and calling upon the saints to come to help him. At\nonce he was recognised by the pair.\n\n\"Ho, your reverence! what is this? What ails you?\"\n\n\"Now the saints be praised! the foul fiend is fled; the Blessed Virgin\nhath sent me help, but too tardily, for I am surely done for. The\nmischief is ended, and I shall surely die. Had ye tarried but one minute\nmore, my poor body would have been devoured also.\"\n\n\"What is it, your reverence! Have you been attacked by wolves?\"\n\n\"Alas! I have been set upon by the wolf of hell; I have met face to face\nin this very spot the foul fiend. 'Twas the Saxon devil Zernebock, for\nhe spoke Saxon. He and his furious Hel-hound hath set upon me together.\nThe fiend was about to kill me with his fiery sword when ye drew near so\nopportunely; and his hound hath torn me dreadfully. His teeth were red\nhot, and he spouted fire out of his fearful mouth. Can ye lift me up?\nfor I hardly know whether he hath left me any legs to stand upon. Oh!\nnot there! not there! did I not tell you he had torn me fearfully\nbehind. Lift me by the shoulder, but do not touch me behind. Steady, ye\nmaudlin villains! did I not tell ye to be steady?\" he roared most\nsavagely.\n\n\"I think your reverence had better let me go for help; my comrade will\nstand by ye till I come again,\" remarked one trooper.\n\n\"Stay ye where ye are, villain! Ye do not stir from me, either of ye,\nnot a yard! If the fiend come again the other one will run also, and I\nshall be slain and devoured. Lift me up, ye lazy louts! ye are well\nable.\"\n\nBy dint of tugging and lifting, eventually they set the Abbot on his\nlegs; but he could not bear to walk, neither could he bear to be\ncarried; and he would not be left for a moment. Slowly he made an effort\nto shamble along, but every step was torture to him, and he swore at the\ntwo troopers as roundly as in his extremity he had prayed to the saints.\nIt was a most painful and protracted home-coming to all of them; for the\nAbbot clutched his deliverers most tenaciously, terrified almost into\nfrenzy if there was a rustle in the bushes, and conjured up visions of\nthe fiend and his hound in every object that met his gaze; whilst all\nthe while he vented upon the two his spleen and rage, sometimes for\ntheir clumsiness and want of sympathy, and at other times for their\nhaving been so long in coming to his aid.\n\nWith infinite trouble they at last reached the Abbey, and the Abbot was\nput to bed; but when there he was obliged to lie upon his stomach, for\nthe hound had severely mauled him behind. Two of the monks were set\napart to nurse him by night, and two by day. The rest of the monks were\ncommanded to spend so many hours of each day in prayers and in\ninvocations, whilst penances and fasting were imposed upon all.\n\nIn time, by dint of careful nursing, the Abbot was restored. But he\ncould not so easily forget the painful lesson he had learnt; and as he\nstill firmly believed that it was indeed the Saxon devil Zernebock and\nhis Hel-hound that had set upon him, he never dared venture abroad after\ndark until he had banished the fiend from the adjacent woods.\n\nThen ensued the most comical part of the whole affair. A procession of\nthe monks to the place of adventure was organised. One headed the solemn\nprocession bearing a crucifix on which our blessed Lord was impaled.\nOthers followed next in order bearing the sacred relics, most of which\nhad been brought from Normandy, and consisted of bones of eminent saints\nof the order, also a shred of the garment of our Saviour, the identical\none for which the soldiers cast lots. One carried a front tooth of the\napostle Peter, said to have been broken out at the last supper of our\nLord; and another had a small vial containing a portion of the tears\nwhich Peter shed at the denial, when \"he went out and wept bitterly\";\nthe last had possession of a pair of straps or leathern thongs, said to\nhave been used to fasten the sandals of the Apostle John when he dwelt\nin the lonely isle of Patmos. But most laughable it was to see Badger\nand several of the lay brothers of the monastery following behind, with\nlarge ewers containing holy water, with which the monks plentifully\nbesprinkled the path and its surroundings; all the while chanting psalms\nand repeating prayers for the exorcism of the devil and all evil spirits\nthat haunted the woods.\n\nOne can imagine the uncontrollable delight with which Badger assisted at\nthis solemn function. And I confess when he told me the whole story I\ncould not help but laugh most immoderately, though such levity scarcely\nbecame my office, especially when I remembered that our sacred things\nhad been associated with so ridiculous an exploit. Though I can scarcely\nundertake to excuse the deception practised upon this occasion, yet it\nhad a most salutary effect upon the Abbot, for seldom after that\nincident did he venture, under cover of the night, to prosecute his\nvillainies; though, like most vile and wicked persons, he found other\nmeans of giving rein to his lusts, which were infamous and cruel.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI.\n\nLOVERS PLOTTING.\n\n    \"Good-night, good-night; parting is such sweet sorrow,\n    That I shall say good-night, till it be morrow.\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\nThe day appointed for Alice's ill-starred nuptials draws near with\nill-omened celerity. Anxious consultations and meetings at the\ntrysting-place with her Saxon lover become most frequent as the fatal\nday approaches. To-night, as she climbs the rough stone stairs which\nlead to the tower, her heart seems to grow lighter in the toilsome\nascent. When she reaches the top night has already asserted its sway\nover the face of nature, and deep silence broods solemnly everywhere\naround. On the turret she paces to and fro in deep meditation, whilst\noccasionally she steps upon the stone platform and peers anxiously\ntowards the adjacent wood, and waves her handkerchief. But the night is\ndark, and she knows not whether any one is there to heed her signal.\nThen she steps down and listens at the head of the stair for the sound\nof the welcome footsteps. Though this most serious and portentous crisis\nin her life is approaching, and dark-browed Fate seems from day to day\nto frown more darkly upon her path, and though she recognises most\nvividly the perilousness of the enterprise which Oswald is entering upon\nfor her deliverance, yet to-night none but pleasant thoughts dance\nthrough her mind, and ever and anon also pleasant smiles persist in\nwreathing her countenance in sweet hopefulness, for she conjures up some\npleasing dream of a possible escape from the dreaded union designed for\nher. But the wonderful secret of this hopeful spirit is this: her\nchampion, the Saxon chieftain, will be here to-night. Here it must be\nconfessed was the chief inspiration of those pleasant thoughts and\npleasant smiles. When he was nigh fear and doubt and dismay never\noppressed her. But alas! this buoyancy of hopefulness was just as surely\nfollowed by cruel depression of spirit, and a dread sense of loneliness\nand helplessness, when he was far away--when the hated presence of\nVigneau was obtruded upon her especially. Worst of all, as the appointed\ntime of marriage drew near, he presumed more and more to thrust himself\nupon her; and she must needs hide, as best she could, the feelings of\nabhorrence and deep loathing with which she regarded him. She had come\nto see the futility of resistance, and of manifesting dislike to him;\nfor she had no hope that he would abate one jot of his determination to\nforce the fulfilment of this marriage contract.\n\nPresently, as she listens, a feeble grating sound strikes her ear, and\nshe strains anxiously to hear further. Soon a distinct sound of movement\nin the winding stair is heard. She rushes to the spot where the steps\nreach the platform of the tower, and anxiously peers into the dark\nbeneath. One moment more and Oswald clasps her to his heart.\n\n\"Ah, you lonely watcher,\" said he, tremulous with emotion. \"How long\nhave you been waiting here alone? are you not afraid to watch here in\nthe darkness?\"\n\n\"I am not afraid to-night, dearest. I am only a woman, you know, with a\nwoman's weakness; but I have always fortitude enough to dare anything\nfor you. Why should I be afraid of darkness, which is only God's\ncoverlet, drawn with infinite gentleness over tired and sleeping\nnature?\"\n\n\"Ah! there is a good angel watching over you, Alice dear, whether 'tis\ndark or light, and whether I am near or far. So be of good courage.\"\n\n\"I have faith in God, and I have faith in my Saxon lover; but alas! my\nheart fails me often as the fateful day draws nigh. Sometimes I am\nalmost paralysed with fear, lest some cruel fate should, after all, doom\nme to a hated meeting of Vigneau at the altar; but I have a little\nfriend which I keep sharp and bright, and there is a step beyond which I\ngo no farther with him.\"\n\n\"Hush, dearest! such thoughts are cruel; that dreadful alternative you\nwill never resort to. Vigneau, in his gross attempt to force your hand,\nin the face of earth and heaven, will rush upon a fate he recks not of,\nbut which he richly merits. No more of this, dearest; this hour we will\ndedicate to more welcome topics. So a truce to all unpleasant thoughts.\nHow does the question of questions wear apace? Have you become more\nreconciled to my project?\"\n\n\"Dearest, do not think me foolish; but since you intimated your\nintention of appearing in the lists, I have been engaged in a little\nenterprise of my own. I have still my forebodings that you will be\ndiscovered if you venture to enter the lists of the tournament, without\nsome more effectual disguise than you seem to possess. So, excuse me, I\nhave been taxing my poor woman's wit in the matter. Would it be wrong to\npractise a little ruse upon my father, think you? I have a cousin, who,\nsome years ago, joined the ranks of the king of Spain, and has gone to\nwar with him against the Moors in the south. He is much commended by the\nking of Spain for his valour. If we could dare to convey to my father a\nmessage that this knight would be present at the festival, and take part\nin the joust and feat of arms, you yourself might then assume this\ndisguise. You would, I think, pass easily for this valiant southern\nknight, providing you could arrive opportunely, so as to preclude as\nmuch as possible previous intercourse. Your followers also might be\nprepared to enact their part. It would disarm suspicion effectively, I\nthink.\"\n\n\"Ah! to be sure, set love a-plotting and the thing is done at once.\"\n\n\"Nonsense! you jest with me. Now listen! I have already set about\nembroidering you handsome trappings for your horse, with quaint,\nsouthern devices, which I learnt under the tuition of the good sisters\nof the convent. Now, don't laugh, you think it a mad whim, I can see.\"\n\n\"Nay, nay! my Lady Suspicion,\" said Oswald, stooping and kissing her,\nand giving her a tighter squeeze. \"I almost begin to fear you as I think\nof the dark plots you are capable of weaving. I never for a moment\ndreamed I had found such a subtle schemer. Now, go on; you have got your\nfinger on the weak point in the plot. I certainly feared the ordeal of\nexposure on the field myself; and you have been taxing your 'poor\nwoman's wit,' and have anticipated my one difficulty. Now for the rest,\ndearest.\"\n\n\"Come down with me to my room. All is perfectly quiet.\"\n\nSo together they descended the winding stair, and sought Alice's room.\nHere she and Jeannette had been deftly plying their fingers in\nembroidering most quaint devices upon the trappings of the horses of the\nknight and his esquire, and a couple of men-at-arms. Oswald's were most\ngorgeously embroidered with silk and gold, upon the finest Bayeaux\ncloth, by the fingers of Alice alone. Most beautiful and chaste was the\nworkmanship, for she had lavished not only her skill, but her love in\nthe equipment of her champion. The figures were so quaint, the design so\noriginal, and the whole so rich in quality, that no prince could hope to\nride with more tasteful and imposing housings for his steed. Jeannette\nalso had done her best, it can easily be imagined, to equip her valiant\nsquire like his master.\n\nOswald took the garments in his hands.\n\n\"Well, dearest,\" said he, \"no one will expect a boorish Saxon outlaw to\nappear like a Norman prince, that is certain; and I dare warrant no\ncurious eyes will penetrate a disguise so complete as you are preparing.\nLove is not blind in this case, Alice dear, I avouch it; but it has the\ngift of prevision also. There remains but one condition to give point\nand consummation to this, and it is that your valiant cousin shall prove\nhimself worthy of such a lady love. But, darling, can you answer this\nquestion,--if Vigneau should be overthrown ignominiously, will the\nspoils of war, the fair queen of this high festival, be the lawful prize\nof the victor? Now, beware! if you escape the toils of Vigneau, there is\nanother ominous figure hovering near, who is ready to pounce down upon\nyou and carry you off.\"\n\n\"So, I suppose, like an unhappy maiden, I may sing--\n\n    \"'Then woe is me! a bride I'll be,\n      Whether I will or no;\n    For 'tis a law of chivalry--\n      Victors will have it so.'\n\n\"Well, if only the 'fair queen' may have the option of choice, I think\nin that case the Norman cousin will have it. But do not cherish any vain\nhopes; I am sure that Vigneau will gulp down his humiliation, if he\ncannot avenge it; and there is no hope of his relinquishing any claims\nto myself, though I believe malignant hatred is the only feeling he\ncherishes towards me.\"\n\n\"It were an easy matter to sweep him out of the way; that would be an\neasy task; but here comes in a tax upon my conscience, for in spite of\nthe fact that he richly merits it, to compass his overthrow in cold\nblood is abhorrent to my feelings. If I should worst him in the\nencounter, he will probably claim satisfaction, and if he does not, but\npersists in his determination to claim you as his bride, then, in\naccordance with the laws of chivalry, I also will claim your hand, and\nchallenge him to mortal combat. So, honour and my conscience will be\nappeased. May Heaven nerve the arm that battles for the right!\"\n\n\"I am afraid the complications will not end even if Heaven rid us of the\nBaron, for his brother at the Abbey is fully conversant with my father's\nill-starred confidence.\"\n\n\"Well, enough, dearest; one step at once. Are there many knights\nexpected in this tourney?\"\n\n\"I scarcely think there will be many. My father is very half-hearted in\nthe matter, and you may be sure he has no encouragement from myself. The\nfewer who are witness of my humiliation the better.\"\n\n\"Well, I am sure that so far as Vigneau is concerned, the feebler the\nopponents the better he will like it; I daresay, though, he counts upon\nan easy conquest in any case. Well, now, dearest, don't be discouraged;\nI must be away, but I shall look daily for the signal. May happier days\nsoon dawn for you, and for this unhappy country. _Au revoir_, darling.\"\n\nSo saying, with a parting kiss Oswald sped him for the home on the\nhills.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII.\n\nTHE JOUST, SAXON AND NORMAN.\n\n     \"The age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists,\n     and calculators has succeeded.\"--Burke.\n\n\nThe time had now come about on which De Montfort had promised his\ndaughter to Vigneau. As was the wont invariably of the Normans, the\nceremony must be preceded by the usual festivities, the most marked of\nwhich was the tournament, or feat of arms. During the reign of our late\nking Edward, this was one of the things in which the idle and dissolute\nNorman nobility who came over in swarms spent their time. To my very\ngreat sorrow and disappointment, the Saxon nobility copied only too\nslavishly this vain and foolish propensity, many of the Saxons being\nquite a match for the most skilful of the Normans. For some weeks before\nthe marriage festivities were to begin, messengers had been sent out to\nthe various Norman encampments situate within a reasonable distance; and\nmany knights were expected to take part in the joust. The place which\nwas selected for this spectacle was near to the castle, and well adapted\nfor the humbler people, who never failed to gather in considerable\nnumbers. The tournament would take place in a considerable hollow, with\ngreen hillsides and dense copses around, where a multitude might witness\nthe wondrous pageantry and the struggle for the honours of the day. The\ncentral arena, where the knights were to contend, was a spacious\nenclosure, railed round to the height of about four feet, having two\nmeans of entrance and exit, one at each side, directly opposite each\nother, the one used as an entrance solely. There knights, squires,\nmarshals, judges, etc., were to enter in all the panoply of war and\nglittering accoutrements. The other opening was used exclusively for\npurposes of exit. Here discomfited knights, disabled horses, and others\nwho wished to retire might emerge. To the right of the main entrance was\na raised platform, covered with rich tapestry, and capable of seating\nsome fifty persons. Upon this platform was a dais, or raised central\nplatform of small dimensions, on which the throne, an elegantly\nupholstered chair, was placed, and designed for the occupation of the\n\"Queen of Beauty.\" The crowd were kept waiting considerably after the\nappointed time, in anticipation of an expected knight from over the sea;\nfrom whom a messenger had been sent, announcing his intention of taking\npart in this knightly fray. Eventually, however, Count de Montfort, amid\na flourish of trumpets, issued from the gates of the castle, with his\ndaughter leaning upon his arm, followed by two of her maids and a\nformidable retinue of invited guests, amongst whom was the Abbot\nVigneau, and one or two other ecclesiastics, and a number of Norman\nguests. De Montfort escorted his daughter to the throne, and Jeannette\noccupied a seat to the right of her. Most fascinatingly lovely was Alice\nas she sat in the place of honour, with the victor's chaplet by her\nside. Pale, nervous, and anxious, but a veritable queen withal she\nlooked--her lustrous dark eyes, and masses of dark wavy hair flowing in\ngraceful undulations over her shoulders, and down to her girdle; her\nhead crowned with a coronet of beautiful flowers, and one solitary gem\nin the centre. All eyes were upon her. Men of gentle blood marvelled at\nher surpassing loveliness. Norman men-at-arms and Saxon churls turned\ndazed and dreamy eyes towards her, with a persistent gaze as of\nfascination. Most of those present, whether gentle or simple, knew well\nthe manner of man her betrothed was; for Vigneau was notorious in the\ncamp and the cot for his gross villainy; and most knew, or surmised,\nthat to-morrow's nuptial tie would be to her a most hateful tie, and a\nmost unhappy union.\n\nJeannette sat close to her mistress; but no dark cloud frowned ominously\nover her as over her mistress. Volatile and mercurial to a degree, she\nnever courted trouble, or recognised his unwelcome visage until it was\nthrust upon her; though, like most natures of a like temperament, when\nonce fairly cornered, as we have seen, the collapse was pitiable and\ncomplete. There, however, she sat, perfectly self-possessed, with an\nirrepressible flutter of expectation in her heart and unfaltering\nconfidence in her star, which was the wonderful and valorous Wulfhere,\nwhom that day she should see companying with knights and men of renown.\nThere was more than a wonted animation in her eye, and the roses on her\ncheek had taken a deeper and a rosier tint. All agog with the pleasing\npromptings of her fluttering little heart, she ran her eyes along the\nranks of the common people who lined the enclosure, or stood together in\ngroups, discussing the merits of the combatants who were to take part,\nand the spectacle which every one looked forward to with such zest. But\nSaxon and Norman alike of inferior station were to her contemptible; and\nas her eyes fell upon Paul Lazaire, who with despondent gaze looked at\nher, she could not restrain a saucy and coquettish smirk of laughter,\nwhich Paul, who thought she never looked half so lovely before, put a\nfavourable construction upon, and was greatly comforted.\n\n\"Jeannette,\" said Alice, turning to her anxiously, \"I fear the day will\nbe disastrous, and the Saxon knight will be discovered. That would be\nmost fearful; I don't think I could survive it.\"\n\n\"Don't be alarmed, my lady; I am not in the least. Wulfhere and the Earl\nwill be a match for them all, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"But, Jeannette, what could a single knight do, contending with so many\nfoes?\"\n\n\"One knight truly would not do much; but you forget, my lady, that he is\nsure to be accompanied by his valiant squire.\"\n\n\"But a solitary esquire would not be of much use. If the Earl be\ndiscovered, he would be surrounded and cut to pieces.\"\n\n\"Never fear, my lady, you will see Wulfhere will protect him. He'll soon\nmake an end of a score of this beer-drinking crew.\"\n\n\"Really, Jeannette,\" said Alice, smiling in spite of herself, \"you have\na good deal of faith in this Wulfhere.\"\n\n\"Why should I not? He is as pretty a man, and just as valiant as his\nleader, and I never intend to halt for want of faith, or starve for want\nof hope. Besides, don't you know there has been given to me an\n_omen_?--and I have noticed that they always come true if you have faith\nin them.\"\n\n\"Oh, indeed! Pray, what is the _omen_ you have had, Jeannette?\"\n\n\"Well, last night when I went to bed it was not quite dark, and I have a\nlittle window in my room which overlooks a certain spot in the wood\nwhich I shall not tell you about, for it is my _tryste_.\"\n\n\"Your _tryste_, Jeannette? I am afraid you will never cease your\ncoquetry and foolishness. But your _omen_, Jeannette?\"\n\n\"Well, I was telling you. It was not dark when I went to bed, so I sat\ndown in front of this window which faces the place where the Saxon and I\nmeet.\"\n\n\"_The Saxon_, Jeannette?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lady, the Saxon Wulfhere. Well, in front of the window I told\nmy beads for a full hour or more.\"\n\n\"Told your beads, Jeannette I Why, was that to Wulfhere, or to our\nBlessed Lady?\"\n\n\"To our Lady, of course, though I was thinking about Wulfhere. But I\nsaid my _aves_ and _paters_ to our Blessed Lady most dutifully. Then,\nwhen I went to bed, I put my beads under my pillow as usual, and I soon\nfell asleep. Then I dreamed such a strange and wonderful dream. I dreamt\nthat I was walking through the woods all alone, when I was startled by a\nhorrid, howling noise behind me, and, turning round, I beheld a number\nof fierce wolves pursuing me. I ran for my life, but they ran faster\nthan I did, and just as the first one was about to grasp me with its\nfearful teeth, who should come to my rescue but Wulfhere. I sprang into\nhis arms, and just as he clasped me safely the wolves all turned tail\nand ran off into the wood as though they had been whipped, for they ran\nas fast as they could scamper, and howled fearfully. Then I saw there\nwas a holy man with Wulfhere, with whitened beard, and bearing a\ncrucifix with our Blessed Lord thereon. This holy man took my rosary\nfrom my hand, and he placed it around my neck. Then he took my hand and\njoined it with Wulfhere's. After this, Wulfhere kissed me and placed a\nring on my finger, and I was his wife. Then the holy man placed his\nhands on us as we kneeled before him, and he gave us his blessing. But,\nwonderful to tell, in the morning when I awoke, I knew it had all taken\nplace as I dreamed; for I found the rosary was indeed around my neck,\nthough I am almost certain I put it under my pillow the night before. I\nalso felt most distinctly Wulfhere's kiss upon my cheek; and, when I\nlooked in the glass, sure enough there was a little rosy spot around\nthis little dimple on my cheek where he kissed me.\"\n\nJeannette's invaluable optimism and unflagging hopefulness, though\nsimple almost to the verge of childishness, did much to fortify Alice\nfor the trying ordeal before her. In spite of her anxiety, she laughed\noutright at the recital of Jeannette's dream. Presently, at the sound of\nthe trumpet the castle gates were again thrown open, and forth issued a\ngaily dressed cavalcade; heralds, marshals, judges, leading the way, and\nfollowed by eight or ten knights armed _cap-a-pie_, each one being\nattended by his esquire. Alice scrutinised closely each knight as they\nseverally filed past her, and dipped the point of their lances in\nsalutation.\n\n\"The Saxon is not here. Some accident, I fear, has happened,\" she\ntremulously whispered to Jeannette.\n\n\"Don't agitate yourself, my lady; they will not fail us. Wulfhere said I\nshould see his face this day; but I was to be careful not to show my\nrecognition of him, or I should probably betray them.\"\n\nNow the scene presented an animated appearance, as the knights and their\nesquires ranged themselves on opposite sides of the enclosure, whilst\nthe heralds, marshals, and judges rode between the ranks, examining the\npoints of each combatant's lance, to see that each one was blunt, and\nsuch as was allowed by the laws of the tourney.\n\nMeanwhile, Norman soldiers crowd round the enclosure, whilst here and\nthere groups of Saxons are wedged amongst them. Some half-dozen Saxon\nchurls have been stood together on the outskirts of the crowd for some\ntime, engaged in eager conversation. A careful observer would perceive\nthat, despite their cowed and woe-begone appearance, they have some\ncommon purpose in view. They each of them carry a quarter staff,--not a\nformidable weapon, it is true; but no formidable weapon would be\npermitted them. At one end of those staves they have deftly inserted\nstout steel goads, which no casual observer would detect. I was first\nattracted to this group, in particular, by having observed them obey\ncertain signals given by their leader. But my eyes turned on all\noccasions naturally and sympathetically to the Saxon portion of the\ncrowd; and the result of my diligent scrutiny of this little band was\nquickened by my discovery of the fact that the leader was none other\nthan Badger. Presently they divide themselves into couples and take\ntheir stand equidistant from each other, along with the spectators who\nline the enclosure. Soon, by dint of pushing and wriggling, they force\ntheir way close to the railings' side.\n\nNow, at a signal the trumpet again sounds, and a marshal rides into the\ncentre of the arena, and reads the proclamation and rules of the\ntourney. Just at that moment, however, a piercing blast from a horn in\nthe distance makes the greenwood ring again. Immediately from the leafy\nbower there emerges a knight tall of stature, and mail-clad from head to\nfoot. On his shield he bears a device of the rising sun on a field vert,\nand as the rays of the midday sun smite upon his helmet and\nbreast-plate, the refulgence thereof is as of molten gold. He rode a\nhandsome charger, whose trappings and housings were richly embroidered\nand resplendent with many strange devices. In close attendance rode his\nsquire, bearing his lance and shield; he also was of brawny and athletic\nbuild, like his master. He had on a helmet with harness of link mail.\nHis face and hands, which were uncovered, seemed deeply tanned, as\nthough they had been subjected to long exposure in some sunny clime.\nBehind the knight and his esquire there rode a couple of men-at-arms,\nbronzed and brown as the squire.\n\nIt was soon buzzed about amidst the crowd that this was the foreign\nknight for whose advent the tourney had been delayed a full hour. The\nknight and his squire were admitted into the enclosure at once; but the\ncouple of men-at-arms stood without. There was a brief consultation with\nthe stewards in the Norman tongue, and the explanations were evidently\nsatisfactory, for the knight rode on. And as he passed the dais, where\nsat the Queen of Beauty, he dipped the point of his lance and bowed low.\n\nThe crimson flood mounted to Alice's face and neck, as she, with great\nnervousness, acknowledged the salute. This momentary flush, followed by,\nif possible, a still deeper pallor and greater agitation, did not escape\nthe notice of our Abbot, who turned keen and scrutinising glances, first\non the knight, and then on Alice. He was suspicions as usual. Could it\nbe possible that there was some love entanglement between these two\nwhich boded evil to his brother the Baron? Hitherto, none had appeared\nin the lists, saving knights who would probably be easily overthrown by\nVigneau. Though this was but a joust of courtesy, yet the ignominy of\nbeing unhorsed, he knew, would exasperate his brother into desperation.\nThis knight of commanding stature, and of warlike appearance and renown,\nintroduced an element of grave uncertainty into the day's contest. There\nwas, further, the gravest suspicion that this stranger knight was\nimported on purpose to frustrate his brother's union with Alice, a union\nwhich, he knew, was cordially detested by both father and daughter. The\nBaron also, suspicious by disposition, with lowering brow glared upon\nthe stranger from behind his visor, and hated him at sight.\n\nNot that he feared being overthrown, for his self-confidence was\nunlimited. His great weight and personal strength and skill had borne\nhim to victory in many a famous joust in times past, and he was\ncontemptuous of any rival he might chance to meet. But a knight young,\nhandsome, and well-appointed as this stranger, might yet, with De\nMontfort's connivance, wrest the prize from his grasp. He swore a deep\noath under his breath, and grasped his lance with a keener clutch.\nClearly he meant mischief.\n\nThe preliminaries being now over, the knights wheeled into line and\nfaced each other, ready for the signal to charge, their squires being in\nclose attendance behind. Vigneau and the stranger knight found\nthemselves opposed by antagonists much smaller in stature, and\nindifferently horsed. The trumpeter stood at the head of the lists,\nbugle in hand, ready to sound the onset at a signal from De Montfort.\nExcitement was visibly expressed in every countenance, the clamour of\nvoices having given place to a hushed suspense, which was painful and\nsickening to Alice; though she saw that Vigneau and the \"Knight of the\nSun\" would not antagonise each other in the first shock. Now the trumpet\nsends forth a shrill blast, and on the instant spurs are driven into\neach charger's side, and, with a snort of pain, they dash across the\nsward. There is a loud shock, and a confused and struggling mass of men\nand horses. Vigneau had thrown the whole weight and strength of himself\nand a powerful horse upon a feeble opponent, and both man and horse\nrolled over together before him. Then, with a contemptuous oath, he\nwheeled again to his place, utterly regardless of his fallen antagonist,\nwhose horse had kicked him severely in its plunges to regain its feet.\nThe \"Knight of the Sun,\" on the other hand, rode steadily at his\nopponent, and seemed rather to push him over the horse's croup than to\nstrike him with unmeasured force. Immediately, also, he sprang to the\nground and chivalrously assisted the fallen knight to rise, exclaiming,\nas he did so,--\n\n\"None the worse, I trust, Sir Knight?\"\n\n\"Only my pride hurt a little,\" was the reply; \"but it was gallantly done\nand by a worthier knight, so I yield my steed and wish you further\nsuccess; which you will have, I trow, whether I wish it or not, or I am\nno judge of your mettle.\"\n\n\"Take your horse, Sir Knight, I have no need of him, for there is a\nbetter in the lists, I perceive,\" said the stranger.\n\n\"You have my hearty wishes in the winning of it, if they will do you any\ngood. Just a word in your ear, nevertheless,\" said he, drawing close to\nthe \"Knight of the Sun,\" and uttering in an undertone, whilst he\nprofessed to be adjusting his sword-belt, \"You are a stranger, Sir\nKnight, but I have known Vigneau a round dozen years at least, so let me\nwarn you. Beware your man, and doubly so if you throw him. His ugly\ncarcase is charged with venom from head to foot, and no treacherous\nvillainy will be too mean, in order to compass his revenge.\"\n\n\"Thanks for your good wishes, and I will not neglect your advice; but if\nhe be wise, he will look to himself or he will rue it.\"\n\nAt the blast of the bugle, the knights who had proved victorious wheeled\ninto line again; one pair had failed to unhorse each other; but\nevidently they were not consumed with a desire to try further their\nprowess in the mimic war, for both of them retired from the fray. So\nthere were but four knights called upon to take part in the next\nencounter and brave again the fortunes of war. The stranger knight was\nnow brought side by side with Vigneau, who surveyed him from head to\nfoot, then turned sneeringly away, growling to himself, \"If length of\nlimb counted for anything, why, then, he would be formidable enough.\"\n\nAt the signal calling for the _ready_, each lance was laid in rest, and\neach knight braced himself afresh. Springing again at the call to the\ncharge, the turf flew from the horses' hoofs, and the shock, in more\nthan one instance, was enough to throw the horses on their haunches. The\n\"Knight of the Sun\" and Vigneau were again victorious; but the latter\nhad met a doughtier opponent than he had bargained for, for he had\nreceived a vigorous and well-aimed blow at the pit of his stomach,\ndiscomposing most unpleasantly its contents, and causing his head to\nswim with sickly qualms. He recovered his balance quickly, however, much\nmore quickly than he recovered from the fury of his temper; for, as he\nfaced about to meet the \"Knight of the Sun,\" he poured out a volley of\nfierce oaths at Pierre, who was too slow in his attentions to him. The\ntall squire of the stranger dismounted and ran his eyes over the\ntrappings of his master's steed, tightening a girth here and there, and\nwhispering to his master as he did so, \"He is strong and heavy; it were\nbetter policy to dodge his blow, I think, for he is unmistakably clumsy\nand slow.\"\n\n\"That is the very thing I have been turning over in my mind, and I think\nI will try it. Hand me a shorter lance, will you?\"\n\nThe squire immediately reached him a lance shorter by some feet; and the\nbugle sounded again for the ready amid breathless silence. The whole\nscene floated dimly before the sickened gaze of Alice, who was but half\nconscious of what was passing in the lists; though she realised with\npainful vividness that Vigneau and the stranger were now opposed to each\nother. Jeannette put her arm around her mistress and held a small silver\nflask of rich scents to her nose, whispering gently to her,--\n\n\"Courage, lady! all goes well, never fear. The stranger will be the\nvictor.\"\n\nNow the combatants brace themselves for the final charge and for\nvictory. The \"Knight of the Sun\" grasps his short lance with sinews of\niron, whilst his gaze is intent upon the weapon of his antagonist. The\nsignal is given, and the chargers bound like an avalanche across the\nintervening space. There is a quick swerve of the stranger's body, and\nVigneau's lance passes like a flash over the mailed arm of the knight, a\nclear miss. Righting himself as deftly as he had swerved, and without\npermitting the point of his lance to deviate one iota from its mark, he\nclosed in a deadly shock with the bulky Norman. The lance he held was so\nshort that they seemed almost to rush into each other's arms; but the\npoint was direct for his antagonist's chest. Vigneau, with an oath at\nthe failure of his stroke, let go his lance, and aimed a blow with his\nclenched fist at his antagonist; but his act of blind fury was utterly\nfutile and vain; with unerring aim the stranger struck him full on his\nsteel breast-plate. There was a loud crash of tearing girths, and\nVigneau rolled ignominiously to the ground amid a motley heap of horses,\nharness, and trappings.\n\nAlice's head dropped on Jeannette's shoulder as she faintly asked,\n\"Who's victor, Jeannette?\"\n\n\"The stranger, lady; courage, courage! Vigneau is ignominiously\noverthrown.\"\n\n\"Thank God!\" she ejaculated feebly, and her eyes closed in\ninsensibility.\n\nAll eyes were now turned with a strange fascination towards the two\nantagonists, for Vigneau sprang to his feet, drew his broadsword, and\nbrandishing it in the air like a demon, shouted \"_Joute a l'outrance!_\nCome on, varlet! it is to the death!\"\n\nThe Abbot rushed into the arena, vainly endeavouring to restrain the\nblind fury of his brother; but with an oath the Baron threw him off, and\nrushed at his antagonist, who by this time had dismounted and stood on\nhis guard. Fiercely exasperated, Vigneau rained blow upon blow, with the\nfury of a madman, whilst the stranger contented himself with coolly\nparrying or receiving on his shield the frantic blows of his assailant.\nThe volcano-like rage of Vigneau quickly expended itself uselessly; soon\nlimp, and spent, and utterly blown, he aimed a last blow with greatly\ndiminished force. The stranger received it on his shield, whilst with\nconcentrated energy he sprang upon Vigneau; his broadsword divided the\nair like lightning, and descended on the nape of Vigneau's neck, cutting\nclean through his armour, and well-nigh severing his head from his body.\nVigneau threw up his arms wildly in the air as he dropped into his\nbrother's arms, and shrieked frantically in his death agony, \"_The\nSaxon! 'Tis the Saxon!_\"\n\nThe cry acted like magic upon the whole multitude. Men sprang into the\narena shouting madly to each other they knew not what. Horses reared and\nsnorted, and plunged in dire confusion. The ruse also so consummately\nplanned by Badger, in case of any hitch or exposure, was vigorously\nacted out. On the instant he and his comrades leaped into the arena, and\ndeftly dodged in and out amongst the horses, and vigorously applied\ntheir goads to their flanks and sides, increasing the disorder and\nconfusion a hundredfold.\n\nMeantime, whilst the vengeful and sanguinary combat between the\nchampions had been going on, the stranger's squire had seized the reins\nof Vigneau's charger as the spoil of the victor; but Pierre sprang at\nhim in fierce resistance, and immediately the two squires also became\nengaged in a passage of arms as fiercely and as determinedly as their\nmasters. Promptly Badger gave Wulfhere a vigorous push, which separated\nthe pair. Then in a low tone, but unmistakably in earnest, he said,\n\"Zounds, man! what are you doing? and where are your eyes? Can you not\nsee there is not a moment to lose? Do you not see the Norman has\ndetected your master? Fly, man, quick! or you're a dead man, and Oswald\nalso.\"\n\nWulfhere, thus suddenly awakened to the peril of the situation, promptly\ntook Badger's advice and vaulted into his saddle. But his blood was up,\nand as he did so, he turned to Pierre, and said,--\n\n\"I'll take care we meet again, villain, never fear. Then we will see\nwhether aught will save thee from the fate which has befallen thy\nmaster, and which has been dogging thy heels this many a day.\"\n\nOswald, the stranger knight, also by this time fully comprehended the\nperil of the situation, and that if they would save their lives flight\nwas their only resource. So promptly he sprang into the saddle, and\nimmediately made for the gate, followed by Wulfhere. The two men-at-arms\nwithout the arena had been watching the movements of Oswald and Wulfhere\nwith feverish anxiety, irresolute whether to rush in to effect a rescue\nor not. But no sooner did they see them make for the entrance than they\npushed their horses amid the spectators, and vigorously plying the flats\nof their swords upon the shoulders of the churls who thronged and choked\nthe way, they quickly cleared a passage; whilst Badger and his party\ncontinued to maintain a state of dire confusion in the enclosure. As\nsoon as the entrance was passed the safety of the Saxons was assured,\nand at once falling into the rear of their leader, they dashed across\nthe plain, and were lost in the woods ere any one comprehended for\ncertain what strange things had happened.\n\nThen the Abbot Vigneau strode up to De Montfort, the veins of his neck\nstanding out with rage and his face livid with passion, and he hoarsely\nshouted,--\n\n\"I arraign thee traitor to thy king! and I will have thy head for this\ntreacherous act! I tell thee if thou hast successfully conspired to\nmurder my brother, I myself hold the letters thou wouldest give thy\nright hand to possess! I will use them to the full, nor rest till thou\nhast atoned with thy blood for thy treachery!\"\n\nMeantime, the scene which followed baffled description. The assembled\ncompany could not comprehend the charges made by Vigneau, and were\nbewildered at the tragic ending of what was designed for a day's\nfestivities.\n\nThe condition of Alice was pitiable in the extreme. With returning\nconsciousness she had seen the fiendish attitude of the Abbot as he\nfronted her father. She had heard the wild threats of vengeance, and a\ndim sense of uttermost calamity, hanging over her and her father, sent\nher back again into a swoon. I roused Jeannette and her companion from\nthe state of helplessness into which they seemed to have relapsed, and,\nunder my directions, Alice was carried to her room and laid upon her\ncouch, whilst such restoratives as were at hand were applied to\nstimulate the laggard consciousness, which seemed as though it would\nnever return.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII.\n\nTHE SAXON'S REVENGE.\n\n    \"E'en these, when of their ill-got spoils possess'd,\n    Find sure tormentors in the guilty breast.\"\n\n    Homer.\n\n\nThe same night, following the tragic ending of the tournament, and about\ntwo hours after Curfew had rung out its warning to churls, housecarles,\nand Saxons, all and sundry, who should be caught abroad after the bell\nhad voiced the hour, there were seated in the Abbot's room two\nindividuals engaged in a most earnest conversation. The look of deadly\nmalignity on their countenances, and the low, fierce oaths with which\nthey frequently emphasised their speech, was palpable evidence that they\nplotted mischief. Though one of them had partially divested himself of\nhis attire, there was that about his dress which betokened that it was\nstrangely out of keeping with the language he was using, and the\nbusiness he was engaged in. The other was dressed in soldier's attire,\nand in the sturdy figure we easily recognise Pierre, confidante and\nwilling tool of Baron Vigneau, and the sharer in most of his villainous\nexploits. The Abbot's room was spacious and lofty, and he had had it\nhung with costly silken hangings, and rich Turkish carpets covered the\nfloor. The furniture also was of carved oak, delicate in workmanship,\nand of priceless value; for many handicraftsmen of great skill and\nexperience came over with the Normans, or followed in the wake of the\nsoldiery. On an exquisitely carved cabinet had been hastily thrust the\nremains of a substantial repast of boiled capon and venison cutlets;\nwhilst on the table between them were two silver tankards containing\ngood Rhenish wine, and from which libations, copious and frequent, were\npoured down two throats which it seemed impossible to effectually slake.\nSeveral letters on parchment, with the massive seal of De Montfort\nimpressed upon them, were lying on the table betwixt them, the contents\nof which had been duly read over to Pierre by the Abbot; and the\nfollowing conversation was proceeding:--\n\n\"No doubt,\" said the Abbot, \"the whole thing was arranged by the cunning\nold fox De Montfort and his daughter. The make-believe of a foreign\ncousin was a ruse to prevent the exposure of the Saxon villain. His\nadvent, also, was so timed that not the slightest opportunity was given\nto any one to see through his disguise; and he spoke the Norman language\nwell.\"\n\n\"Well, I have often wondered at De Montfort's leniency to those Saxon\nwolves on the hills. He professed to send for help to William when he\nwas at York last; but there has been no help forthcoming,\" said Pierre.\n\n\"I don't believe he ever sent such message; but the devil himself is not\nmore cunning than De Montfort, and, unless we act promptly, he'll\ncircumvent _us_.\"\n\n\"Well, what's the business? Are you going to make use of those letters,\nand have him brought to book promptly?\"\n\n\"That is it. What I wish, is that you, Pierre, should take this matter\nin hand; for it must be done by some one with sufficient courage and\ndetermination. I should like you to proceed forthwith to the court of\nhis Majesty William, and lay before him these damning proofs of De\nMontfort's treachery. If you will undertake this, I confidently\nanticipate that within three months the traitor's head will be suspended\nover the gates of his castle. That done, I shall urge my suit for the\npossession of his forfeited lands, with well-assured success. Then,\ntrust me, I will humble the pride of his haughty and scornful daughter.\nShe shall know promptly, for I will teach her, that though Vigneau is\ndead, Vigneau still lives. I love her, and I hate her, and when she is\nin my power I will have my fill of both love and hate, mark me! I will\nhave quits for all I owe her, for she has not only compassed the death\nof my brother, but she has thwarted me here constantly, by taking under\nher protection that old hypocrite Adhelm (meaning myself). I'll be\nrevenged on both of them at a blow, mark me, Pierre!\"\n\n\"Humph! This sounds well and good, your Reverence, no doubt, from your\nstandpoint; but, if you will excuse me, I didn't see very clearly at\nwhat point Pierre came in when these good things were to be distributed.\nNow, it appears that I shall figure very prominently in the work of\nscotching this snake. So, so! well and good, revenge may be very sweet\nto you, and maybe it will be sweet to me; I'll not deny I like the\nflavour of it, but, after that, what additional? I shall want either the\nskin or the carcase, certainly, if I shoot the deer; if not, why, marry,\nI'll never bruise my shins in the chase. So, will you please point out\nwhere this thing is to be profitable to me? Devil's work, you know,\nshould be well paid, for we must scorch for it by-and-bye, must we not,\neh?\"\n\n\"Thou shalt have everything I am able to bestow, Pierre; and thou shalt\nfind that in my exalted position my powers of promotion will be equal to\nthy deserts. How sayest thou? wilt thou try the monk's calling? Nothing\neasier! I was a soldier ere I donned the _hair shirt_, eh! and took to\nmortifying the flesh, as thou well knowest I have done most rigidly at\nall times.\"\n\n\"Marry, 'tis quite true, the devil himself would vouch for it; and a\nmerry jest it is. And now, after your Reverence's example, there's no\nsaying, but we may expect the devil himself to turn monk some day; and,\nin faith, by copying your Reverence closely, he'd make more sinners\nin't, than he would by his old tricks;\" and Pierre laughed most\nimmoderately.\n\n\"Thou hadst ever a sharp tongue, Pierre, and little regard for thy\nbetters; but I absolve thee. Nevertheless, I advise _thee_ to the _holy_\ncalling also. Then what could hinder me bestowing upon thee my Abbot's\noffice? The best of all things would be at thy command--ease, wine,\nwenches, and a jolly fat trencher at all times. I warrant thee there is\nno life so merry and so bountiful as the command of a good fat\nmonastery.\"\n\n\"Bravo!\" shouted Pierre, who was immensely tickled by the Abbot's\nsuggestion; and, bursting again into a roar of laughter, he cried,\n\"well, this is too rich for anything! Pierre turned _Saint_; ha, ha, ha!\n'Twould be after the most godly example of your Grace, I trow. Ha, ha!\ngood! I'll wash it down, anyhow;\" and he raised the tankard to his lips,\nand cried, \"Drink to't, your Reverence. Here's to _Saint Pierre of pious\nmemory_;\" and promptly he drained the tankard to the bottom; then,\nbringing it down again with a bang upon the table, he fairly roared with\nlaughter.\n\n\"Thou art an ass, Pierre! An arrant ass!\" said the Abbot, who was\nconsiderably nettled at the freedom with which Pierre made a jest of him\nand his office. \"Canst thou not see that after the Baron's death De\nMontfort will soon be quit of us if we cannot checkmate him? To jest\nunder the gallows, and end it by swinging on them, is fool's work.\"\n\n\"Well, well, I'll turn the matter over carefully, I think,\" said Pierre\na little more soberly. \"Your Grace has done it, and I think there is\nsomething in it. I don't know how the sneaking method of doing things,\nafter the dare-devil manner familiar to me, will suit my stomach. I have\nalways liked the chase better than the game, and I confess I would\nrather fight it through, come what may.\n\n\"But,\" said he, bursting into a loud guffaw, as the ludicrousness of his\nturning monk thrust itself upon him, and relapsing again into the\njocularity and bitter sarcastic tone familiar to him,--\n\n\"Now that _you_ recommend it so strongly, I think I will retire from\n_active duties_, and grow fat and wheezy like yourself. Anyhow, it\nstands to reason, the bigger the paunch the more good sack wine it will\nhold, and that is an item. True, too, a lazy life and a lascivious\nappetite are bound to go together. Less force to labour, and more to\nlechery; that's the sum of it. I think I come to't, your Reverence.\nBeshrew me! what would any man have? for if he lust lustily, and be a\njolly trencherman to boot, with his fill provided to him, what can he\nwish for more? My hand on it, your Reverence! I'll undertake the\nventure. It is a mad hazard, but I like it none the worse for that!\"\n\n\"Then when wilt thou start on thine errand, Pierre? Time is precious.\nThe Count knows I have possession of those letters, and, mark me, he\nwill circumvent us if he can.\"\n\n\"Line my pocket with gold pieces and I'll start at cock crowing, and De\nMontfort may catch me if he can, when once I get the start of him.\"\n\nSlowly at that instant the door opened behind them, and Oswald, Wulfhere\nand a couple of attendants, armed to the teeth, entered, and closed the\ndoor behind them, whilst one stout yeoman set his back against it. The\ncountenance of Vigneau fell on the instant as though a sword had pierced\nhim, and he became livid as death. Hastily clutching at the letters\nlying on the table, he endeavoured to thrust them into a recess of the\ncabinet, and he fairly cowered in abject terror before these strange\nvisitants. On the contrary, Pierre whipped out his broadsword, and\nfiercely stood at bay; his savage valour being in striking contrast to\nthe crouching cowardice of the Abbot.\n\n\"Give place, master,\" said Wulfhere, advancing on Pierre; \"this fellow\nis mine. You have already had your revenge. Now, blood-thirsty villain,\"\nsaid he, addressing Pierre, \"I told thee, did I not, that the time would\ncome when thou shouldest answer to me for thy cruelties and murders? the\ntime has come now; and thou canst no longer shirk the fate that has long\nawaited thee.\"\n\n\"Did I ever shirk meeting thee, or any churlish Saxon in Britain? Give\nme fair play, and I'll give thee a speedy passage to the devil, sirrah!\"\nsaid Pierre savagely, striding towards Wulfhere.\n\nSo the two stood upon their guard. The Abbot shrinking in mortal terror\nin one corner, whilst Oswald and his followers looked on in anxious\nsuspense; for they knew well the strength and brutal valour of Pierre,\nwho was ever foremost in any fray, and equally an adept at either stroke\nor thrust. Wulfhere also was second to none amongst the Saxon outlaws in\nskill and strength, or personal bravery. Toe to toe for a moment they\nstood eyeing each other with lips set, and mortal enmity in their eyes.\nThen stroke and thrust and parry followed each other in rapid\nsuccession. The rapid advancing or retiring, as each one gave or\nreceived a stroke, by these powerful gladiators, wrought the spectators\nto such a pitch of excitement that they held their breath almost to\nsuffocation. But the climax came in a totally unexpected manner.\nWulfhere drove at his antagonist a powerful sweep of his sword, but\nPierre effectually interposed his sword and parried the blow. Such was\nthe force of the blow, however, that the treacherous weapon flew in two,\nthe point striking the opposite side of the room, and the hilt, with\nhalf the broken blade, remaining in Wulfhere's hand. Ere Oswald could\ninterpose between them, Pierre shouted,--\n\n\"Aha! Now I have you!\" and rushed in with a furious lunge at Wulfhere's\nbody.\n\nThe words were true enough, but not in the sense in which Pierre had\nuttered them; for with lightning-like agility Wulfhere sprang aside, and\nthe glittering weapon slid harmlessly into the empty air beyond him. So\nconfident, however, had Pierre been of the helplessness of his opponent,\nand so confident of the deadliness of his thrust, that he took no\nprecaution whatever of his own body. The eager rush also of his own\nonslaught, coupled with the force with which Wulfhere drove the broken\nblade at him, caused it to pass clean through his body, and, with a\ngroan and a half-uttered oath, he fell forward on his face, dead.\n\nThe Abbot, as he witnessed the close of the tragic scene, literally\ncrawled to the feet of Oswald, begging piteously for mercy. One of the\nmen-at-arms who accompanied Oswald, advanced upon him, and said,--\n\n\"Leave him to me, master. Now, dastardly fiend!\" said he, addressing the\nAbbot, \"there has come a reckoning day even for you. You remember the\nlittle cot out yonder befouled by your infamous presence. You know the\nboy murdered by you in cold blood, and waiting to be avenged until this\nhour. The time has come at last.\"\n\n\"Have mercy upon me,\" moaned the Abbot, \"and I will recompense you\nliberally. Take this gold chain,\" said he, removing a massive gold chain\nfrom his neck, \"it is very valuable, and I will give thee more.\"\n\n\"If you think a gold chain will recompense me for my dead child, base\nhound, you are greatly mistaken. His blood cries for vengeance, and I\nwill exact it now.\"\n\nAs he spoke he raised his sword, and at a blow he severed the Abbot's\nhead from his body.\n\n\"This is most ghastly work,\" said Oswald, \"and to be done within the\nsacred precincts of this edifice it is most deplorable. But surely\niniquities such as these men have constantly and unblushingly\nperpetrated call for most drastic remedies. Men, gather up these bodies,\nand bury them deep in the woods before the dawn.\"\n\nThe two men-at-arms called in some of their fellows who were watching in\nthe corridors outside, and, swathing the bodies in the Abbot's robes,\nthey hurried along the corridors and out of the grounds, bearing their\nghastly burden to secret burial in the forest.\n\nOswald and Wulfhere remained behind engaged in diligent search.\n\n\"There are certain documents possessed by this man which are of vast\nimportance to some one I would like to serve,\" said Oswald. \"We must\nfind them, if possible, ere we quit this place. I saw the Abbot hastily\nremove some papers as we entered, as though he was exceedingly anxious\nto conceal them. I strongly suspect they are the letters I would fain\nlay hands upon.\"\n\nSo saying, he advanced to the cabinet, and throwing it open, almost\nimmediately drew forth the letters which had well-nigh had such dire\neffects upon the life and happiness of Alice De Montfort. Oswald gave an\nexclamation of pleased surprise as the seal of De Montfort caught his\neye, and, hastily unfolding them, he eagerly ran over their contents one\nby one, and, as he gathered their import, he said to Wulfhere,--\n\n\"These are indeed a treasure more precious than gold. They bear evidence\nof one fatal mistake on the part of one whose astuteness is otherwise\nmarvellous; and they have been an instrument of terror to the author of\nthem for a long time. Now this dread secret will henceforth be sealed\nfor ever. Sealed it is in the death of those who knew and used it so\nunscrupulously; and it will soon be sealed in the destruction of these\ndocuments.\"\n\nSo he hastily thrust them into his bosom, and they continued their\nsearch. But nothing further that had any bearing upon the subject could\nbe found.\n\n\"Our work in this place is evidently at an end for the present,\" said\nOswald. \"So let us be gone, for I would finish this day's work. I wot\nthere are some who at this moment are in terrible suspense, and are\nawaiting in well-nigh mortal terror for the further development of this\ntragedy. So let us away, the night is still young, and there is a voice\neagerly calling for me.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX.\n\nBEWARE THE VIKING.\n\n    \"O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,\n    With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,\n    And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.\"\n\n    Milton.\n\n\nWe left Sigurd and his two followers in the cave in the mountains.\nSigurd, as usual, was restless and eager for further attacks upon the\nNormans. So, early next morning, one of his men, in obedience to his\ncommands, climbed to the top of the mountain for the purpose of\nsignalling the scattered band, who, since the departure of their leader,\nwith the wounded chieftain Oswald--narrated previously--had been in\nhiding in small companies, or singly, with their wives and children.\nThis messenger laboriously scaled peak after peak until he mounted the\nloftiest eminence of all; from whence, far away in the hazy distance,\nsummit after summit towered heavenwards, with scarred weird valleys\nlying between them, and the placid wood-encircled lakes in goodly number\nshining like burnished silver, looking up to heaven, reflecting sun and\ncloud in their still depths. The man, ignorant, unlettered, and\nuncultured as he was, felt the mighty inspiration; and he stood\npassively for a few minutes surveying the scene lying before him. Then\nslowly he turned upon his heel until he had faced every point of the\ncompass, taking in the mighty distances within the circle of these\nmountain sentinels, with the magnificent and inspiring solitudes around\non every hand. The cool mountain breeze stirred his long, unkempt locks\nand beard; and the air, pure as the unsullied breath of heaven, like an\ninspiration thrilled through his lungs, and poured its vitalising energy\nthrough every vein in his body. Not a sound, however, broke from his\nlips betokening any sense of admiration or appreciation of what he\nlooked upon. Only some half-articulated guttural sounds betokened\nintense inward satisfaction. But now, in a moment, quick as thought, his\nbrawny arms unfolded from across his broad chest, and a fierce fire of\nrage kindled in his eye; a savage expression also escaped his lips, for\nthe deep baying of a hound broke upon his ear, and turning, he saw down\nin the valley yonder, Norman soldiers putting bloodhounds on the trail\nof his chieftain, Sigurd. Instantly, without staying to rear aloft the\nbeacon, which was to speak to comrades hiding in distant valleys or on\nthe distant hills, he darted over the shoulder of the hill, and with\nlong, fleet strides, seemed almost to fly towards the cave, where, in\nhiding, he had left his master. On reaching the cave he hurriedly\nexplained to Sigurd the position of affairs. With a savage exclamation\nthe chieftain said,--\n\n\"Ha! they hunt me with dogs again, as though I were a wolf or a hog.\nWell, let them beware! the wild boar of the mountains will find them\nmore sport than will be pleasant, as he has done many times before! I\nsuppose it will be a long race, for these Norman sleuthhounds are sure\nof scent, and will not be easily shaken off! Forward ye up the burn; we\nwill go over the head, for there is a trap laid for them up yonder. From\nthence we go down into Deepdale, keeping along round the head of\nUlleswater. Ye will get a good start, and may take it easy.\"\n\n\"What will ye do, Jarl? If ye mean to attack these Norman dogs, we would\nrather stand by you and share the risk.\"\n\n\"I shall be ruled by fate. Skuld, the Viking's friend, has me in his\nkeeping; I shall not be slain; but one thing I must do, I must show\nmyself to them, so as to divert the scent from this place. We must not\nlet the hounds lead them to our lair here, for it is a snug port in a\nstorm, and we shall need it for rest many times yet, I fear. When I have\nshowed myself to them, I shall follow after you. As ye scale the summit\nye may look out; if I need you I will signal, but it is not likely.\"\n\nBuckling on their swords alone, so as to be lightly equipped, the two\nmen followed the water-course which marked the dividing line betwixt the\nhills on either side, and which, in its turn, was flanked on each hand\nby the dense wood stretching for more than a mile further up the burn,\nuntil the inhospitable Zone was reached, where tree and shrub were\npinched and stunted into barrenness by the chill mountain air, and where\nshelter only could be obtained by the innumerable and gigantic limestone\nboulders, which grimly stood sentinel over the leaping and tumbling\nwaters. Sigurd hastily stowed away some provisions in a leathern case,\nwhich he strapped over his shoulders. Then, buckling on his belt, from\nwhich his broadsword was suspended, he crept from his hiding-place and\nstrode upwards through the tangled undergrowth, making for the clear on\nthe mountain side. His purpose, as we have already said, being to throw\nthe hounds off the old scent which led to the cave overlooking the tarn,\nand to draw them directly after himself; for he was very little dismayed\nat the prospect, so confident was he of his own power to keep them at a\nsafe distance, and weary out, if need be, the Norman band. Having\ncleared the wood, he climbed up the hillside for a little way, scanning\ncarefully the course along which the enemy must come. All was quiet as\nyet, so he sat him down to await events. He had not long to wait in this\nposition, however, ere the cry of the hounds and the shouting of men\nsmote upon his ear, and he started to his feet. Yonder in the distance,\nand coming along the mountain side, he espied a couple of men, each\nleading a hound, and a company of thirty or forty Norman men-at-arms\nfollowed after. Climbing upon a knoll, professedly to survey the party,\nbut in reality to attract attention to himself, he stood for a moment, a\nconspicuous figure on the barren hillside, and speedily he was seen by\nthe Normans, who set up a great shout of exultation as they beheld the\nburly figure of their dire foe so nearly in their power. Sigurd waved\nhis sword defiantly in their faces, and then turned and sped him after\nhis men, towards the valley's head. Eagerly the Normans followed after,\nhaving Sigurd almost constantly in view; and, as they deemed, soon to be\nrun down and captured.\n\nAs they followed after Sigurd up the valley it grew gradually into a\nmost desolate and awe-inspiring solitude. All along the mountain summits\nthe limestone rocks jutted out clear of every vestige of verdure--bare,\nbold, ominous, and frowning. The slow, but persistent disintegrating\ninfluences of climate and atmosphere had, through the centuries, slowly\ndiminished their beetling heads; and all adown their scraggy sides layer\nupon layer of rocky fragments testified most eloquently that rugged and\nstrong as were these rocky eminences, there was a despoiler strong\nenough even to cope with their might; whilst in the bottom of the glen\nwere huge rocks lying where Nature's invisible fingers had toppled them\nfrom the summit. Few living things haunted the place. Yonder, over the\ncrest of the mountain, a pair of golden eagles were wheeling in circles,\ndelighting in the strength of their matchless pinions. Here and there a\nrabbit might be seen stealing in and out amongst the boulders. Several\ncarrion crows, with hoarse croak, flitted from boulder to boulder in\nominous expectation of coming carnage. Rich and plentiful had been their\nfare since the coming of the Normans, and, with true instinct, these\nflying Saxons and pursuing Normans, they knew, were prophetic of\ngratification to their base appetites.\n\nOn the Normans came, their following after being greatly expedited by a\nconstant sight of the quarry. For there was no need to be careful, or\nanxious lest their hounds lost the trail. Sigurd was not a quarter of a\nmile ahead, but in consequence of the ascent, and the rough ground to be\ntraversed, it represented a good start. He was also a much more powerful\nand skilful mountaineer than they were, and with the utmost ease he held\nthe distance. As they progressed the ascent became steeper and steeper,\nwilder and more rugged. Frequently they lost sight of the Viking chief,\nas he disappeared behind huge boulders or frowning rocks, only to see\nhim reappear again on some promontory still higher, from which he would\nwatch them for a minute or two as they struggled after him, the savage\ndefiances he shouted falling easily upon their ear. Nearer and nearer,\nhowever, they came towards the head of this rugged and water-furrowed\ngorge. Running along the topmost ridge of the hill on either side of the\ncleft, down which the water rushed, was a long line of steep beetling\ncrags, bare, jutting, verdureless rocks, well-nigh impossible to scale,\nand involving a wide circuit to outflank. The waters, through countless\ngenerations, with unceasing rush and swirl, had shorn these flinty\nlimestone rocks asunder in one steep slit from top to bottom; and to\ntrack the \"mad Saxon\"--as Sigurd was called by the Normans--through this\nweird crevice, was to penetrate a mere fissure between steep and\noverhanging rocks on either side, and so full of twists that the path\nwas frequently completely hidden a couple of yards in advance. The Saxon\nknew his ground well.\n\nNot so these Normans; but, enough for them, their foe was a flying foe,\nand they were numerous and consequently valorous. Ignoring completely\nthe many lessons of personal valour and mad daring this man had taught\nthem in the past, without pause they boldly followed after, the hounds\nfoaming at the mouth and tugging at the leash. 'Twas a fearsome gap to\nenter, and they had not proceeded far when a jutting crag projected, and\nthe waters were compelled to make a circuit in order to flow round it.\nWith a deep bay, and an eager plunge in the turbid, rushing waters--for\nhe scented blood--the hound which led the party dashed past the\nprojection, eagerly dragging the Norman who followed after and held him.\nBut a blow of Sigurd's sword cut the hound clean in two, and a second\nblow clave the Norman who held him. With a great shriek, a\nterror-stricken cry, and without pretence of defence, they turned in an\neager scrambling retreat, each caring only for himself, and leaving the\nrearmost to the mercy of the savage giant who followed after. When they\nreached the open ground, where in numbers they could assail their foe,\nno foe was in sight. Sigurd had exhausted his opportunity and was gone.\nWho now would be first to enter again, and force this wild man from his\nlair? Alas! not one! There was, however, no time to lose, and the\nNormans were consumed with impotent rage. So some of them hurried round\nby the end of the crags, whilst some scaled the face of the cliff, each\nand all endeavouring, with utmost speed, to come upon the rocks above.\nThis was done eventually, and, swarming to the brink of the rift, many\nheads endeavoured cautiously to peep over and down into the\nwater-course, intensely hoping, but almost fearing, to set eyes upon\ntheir foe. But no Saxon was to be seen. They then rushed along the sides\nof the fissure, peeping down as they ran, and making sure that their\nvictim was safely entrapped in his lair after all. But there was not a\ntrace of him. On and on they rushed, over-lapping each other in turns,\nuntil, eventually, they came to the very summit, where the water-course\nhad completely run out into a mere hollow, a deep, spongy marsh or bog.\nHastily overtopping the hill, they eagerly looked down into the valley\nbeyond. With wild execrations of rage they beheld the object of their\ndirest hatred and fear moving down the mountain side with long, swinging\nstrides, nearly a mile ahead, and immediately he disappeared in a dense\nwood, which seemed to stretch out its sheltering arms to the fugitive.\n\nSigurd was now joined by his two comrades, and together they pushed on\nfor two or three miles through the forest, eventually rounding the head\nof Lake Ulleswater, and patiently climbing the steep headland on the\nopposite side of the lake. Here they halted for a while to rest and eat;\nbut they were soon again roused to action by the voices of men and hound\npersistently following after. For the Normans were enraged, and, with\nthe remaining hound, they continued mile after mile to track their arch\nenemy. Sigurd and his men, at a steady trot, continued to lead the\nchase, covering another five or six miles down the side of the lake\nwithout halting.\n\n\"Shall we keep up the race until we weary them out, Jarl?\" remarked one\nof the men to Sigurd.\n\n\"No, I have another purpose in view; but this long race, with the taste\nof steel in the middle of it, will do them good.\"\n\n\"Ye do not purpose making for the cave, Jarl, do ye? There are not half\na dozen men there, and we are no match for this company. Then there are\nthe women and children to be thought of.\"\n\n\"No, that will not do at present. The boat will be safely moored at the\nfoot of Hawks' Cliff, will it not, think ye?\"\n\n\"Yes, I doubt not,\" was the reply. \"I see now, Jarl. It is very good. To\nslip the noose so deftly when the Normans think to hang us is well\nthought of.\"\n\nOn for a little while the three continued, until coming to the\nrendezvous known to them as Hawks' Cliff--stupendous rocks shorn down\nwith well-nigh a perpendicular face and overhanging the lake. Down these\nrocks, which required a cool head, deft feet, and a knowledge of the\ngiddy path, these three swiftly descended, until the water was reached,\nwhere a boat was found snugly moored beneath the sheltering arms of the\ntrees which fringed the water's edge. Into this boat the three stepped,\nand as the pursuers drew near they pulled away from the shore, making\nfor the opposite side of the lake. Here was a masterly manoeuvre,\ncompletely foiling the enemy. For whether they went round by the bottom\nof the lake, or retraced their steps by the head, it meant a start of\nten or twelve miles to the fugitives; and with the day wearing on, and\nthe pursuers wearied and fagged, the chase was manifestly closed for the\nday, with one more futile attempt to destroy this redoubtable enemy, who\nunweariedly persisted in exacting bloody tribute from their ranks,\ndisdaining every overture of reconciliation, and defying their utmost\nefforts to subdue him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XL.\n\nTHE HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN.\n\n    \"What outward form and feature are\n    He guesseth but in part;\n    But what within is good and fair\n    He seeth with the heart.\"\n\n    Coleridge.\n\n\nThrough the woods with sure-footed fleetness their powerful horses bore\nOswald and Wulfhere on the fateful night of their visit to the\nmonastery. Matters of most momentous importance to Oswald at least, as\nwell as to Alice and the Count her father, called for urgency, and would\nbrook no delay. Presently the pair stood together in the wood, hard by\nthe place of the mysterious passage. \"Hold the horses, Wulfhere, and\nawait my return; our rest will be more welcome, and much sweeter when we\nhave brought peace unto others, and disburthened our minds of the\nmomentous issues following on this day's work.\" So saying, he swung\nhimself aloft, and speedily disappeared in the cavernous recesses of the\ngiant oak.\n\nMeanwhile, on the turret a lonely figure paced round and round its\nbattlemented heights in the shivering cold, but all unconscious, and\ninsensible to its chilling influences. It was Alice De Montfort who\nwaited and watched in the loneliness of the night, hoping, yet\ndespairing of hearing the welcome voice, or seeing the welcome form of\nher Saxon lover. Ever and anon, as she paced to and fro, she lifted up\nher tear-stained eyes in voiceless prayer to the heavens above her; but\nthe driving clouds as they scudded across the face of the sky, seemed to\nshut out hope, and all response from the vaulted blue, toward which she\nlooked for succour and for comfort. Then in mute agony she turned from\nthe Omnipotent, whose form she could not see; and whose voice she could\nnot hear, but who, though as yet there was no token, had nevertheless\nheard her prayer ere it was uttered, and in His own way was sending\nfleet messengers of hope.\n\nWas there hope and help in man? She mounted the parapet and peered long\nand anxiously over the bastions into the cheerless night, listening with\nstrained attention for sound of voice or human footfall. But the teeth\nof the driving wind bit with piteous severity her wan cheek, and she\nsank down again beneath the shelter of the wall.\n\n\"Will he come to-night?\" she yearningly asked of the empty air.\n\nHer faint heart gave the answer to the question.\n\n\"No, he is a fugitive and a hunted Saxon; a wolfshead and an outlaw; and\nafter this day's vengeance he must hide himself as best he can. But I\nlove him all the more for that, for he is brave and true, and I will\ngladly share poverty and exile with him. What would I not give this\nmoment to know that he is safe? to feel the grasp of his strong arm; to\nhear his voice, resolute as a hero's should be, yet withal so tender,\nthat a little babe would be hushed to sleep by its gentleness, as though\n'twere a mother's lullaby. How danger seems to fly from me, and dark,\noverhanging fate is fronted by silver-winged hope when he is nigh! But,\nalas! vain are all my hopes, for he comes not. Perhaps already the\ntraitorous minions have avenged themselves in his blood, and I shall\nnever see him more. I must fain get me to my chamber and weep, and pray\nthe night away, in the hope that with to-morrow's light there may come\nsome tidings of him. Just one last look from the bastion ere I descend.\"\n\nSo saying, she rose to her feet. Ah! a footstep on the stone stair\narrests her attention. Some spy upon her movements--she is discovered!\nHer heart beats feverishly, and she sinks to the ground with the day's\ncarnage flitting indistinctly before her mental vision. Ah! what is\nthat? The tall form of the Saxon chieftain is outlined in the dim light,\nand with a cry of uncontrollable delight, and with supernatural energy\nshe bounds across the intervening space, and flings herself into his\nstrong arms in sweet insensibility.\n\n\"You are my own now, sweetheart,\" said Oswald, folding her to his\nbreast, and imprinting a kiss upon her cold brow. \"You anxious one;\nwhatever have you been doing? watching in this chill night air all\nalone, and so scantily clad too.\"\n\nThe ears into which he uttered his loving words were deaf; and the eyes\ninto which he vainly strove to look were closed.\n\n\"Poor child,\" said he, \"this is too bad.\"\n\nThen he folded her tightly in his arms and rested his warm cheek against\nhers. Her eyes slowly unclosed, and for a moment she gazed up into his\nface. Then slowly they closed again, and a sweet smile passed over her\nfeatures, the revulsion of feeling from despair to the joy of hope was\ndelicious. Like a little child waking in agony from some horrid dream,\nand finding its mother's form bending over it, and forthwith dropping\nonce more into sleep, and peace, and rest.\n\nFor a minute or two she was perfectly passive, whilst the new joy seemed\nto be saturating her whole being.\n\n\"I am so glad you have come,\" she said, rousing herself. \"I was filled\nwith most dreadful forebodings of disaster to you, to my father, and to\nall of us. Excuse my silence, but the joy was so great I could do\nnothing but quietly drink it in. This horrid day has nearly killed me.\nEven now I am more afraid of the future. After you fled the Abbot boldly\ncharged my father with disloyalty, and with having planned the day's\nslaughter of his brother. His rage and his threatenings were dreadful to\nhear, for he vowed that he would forthwith lay the matter before the\nking.\"\n\n\"Fear not, dearest, the worst is past. Everything has this day been\npurged away in blood. I care not to think about it, much less to talk\nabout it. But after all, only the barest justice has been done, and I\nknow of nothing that calls for repentance. Has the Count retired to\nrest?\"\n\n\"No. I fear there will be little rest for him to-night. I left him some\ntime ago pacing his room in despair, and revolving in his mind various\nplans for frustrating the malicious intentions of the Abbot.\"\n\n\"Other hands have already frustrated the evil designs of that most\nwicked and loathsome representative of the Church. The avenger has met\nhim face to face, and he is no more. Come, let us go down to the Count.\nI am the bearer of news which will make him look kindly upon even a\nSaxon outlaw. Come with me, one telling of the story will suffice.\"\n\nSo together they descended the turret stair and sought De Montfort's\nroom. Alice gave a gentle knock upon the heavy oaken door, but there was\nno response. Then she gently pushed open the door, and the pair entered\ntogether. The Count was sat with his elbows on the oaken table, his face\nburied in his hands, and totally oblivious of their entrance.\n\n\"Father!\" said Alice gently.\n\nThe Count gave a start and raised his head, and immediately started to\nhis feet at the spectacle which met his sight; for the stalwart Saxon\nonce more stood before him: his astonishment being still more inflamed,\nas he witnessed his fair daughter lovingly clinging to the outlawed\nchieftain's arm, and radiant with smiles.\n\n\"Alice!\"\n\n\"Father, give this noble Saxon a hearty welcome, for he richly merits\nit. A long time since I unwittingly gave him my heart, or rather he took\nit, and he has proved himself our bravest and truest friend. He is\nbearer also to-night, I believe, of most welcome news.\"\n\nSo saying, she led her Saxon lover to the Count, and Oswald, dropping on\none knee, said,--\n\n\"Noble sir, your lovely daughter some time ago, in pure pity, gave me my\nlife. On the night of the taking of this castle she opened the prison\ndoors, and with her own hands undid my shackles----\"\n\n\"Alice, I little thought that it was your doing!\"\n\n\"Wait, father, till you hear this noble Saxon's story, and you will\nchide me no more for that act of mercy.\"\n\n\"Noble sir,\" said Oswald, \"we Saxons never permit a debt of honour to go\nunrequited. I have endeavoured as best I could to discharge the debt of\nhonour so nobly laid upon me; but the fair creditor has taken possession\nof my heart. I cannot eject her, if I would; and I would not, if I\ncould, eject so lovely and so winsome a tenant.\"\n\n\"Pray be seated, Saxon; I confess I do not understand the language used\nby either you or my daughter, nor do I know how far it is permissible\nfor me to hold friendly intercourse with one whom my king expects me to\nbe at deadly enmity with. But Saxon or not, you deported yourself to-day\nas a brave man and a true knight should do. The disguise was well\nplanned and complete, and your advent timely. It was most daring, but\nwhat its purpose was I am at a loss to know.\"\n\n\"Its purpose was to rid you and yours of a most deadly viper, and to rid\nour race of a blood-thirsty tyrant.\"\n\n\"I divine thou knowest more of my concerns than it is meet a stranger\nshould. But, be that as it may, I know not whether I am indebted to thee\nor not, for one viper laid low has given birth to others, whose venom I\ndread even more, and whom I have no means of appeasing.\n\n\"It is better I should explain, sire. It is true I became possessed of\nyour secret, but the gratitude I owed to your daughter for the life\ngiven back to me from the jaws of death, as well as for the love I bore\nher, also for the fierce retribution I and my people owed to the\nbrothers Vigneau, for numberless cruelties and outrages dealt out to our\npeople, caused me to watch with scrupulous care, that I might serve you\nand yours and rid my people of a deadly terror. I have news for you,\nsire. Not only is Baron Vigneau dead, but also the Abbot, his brother,\nhas fallen by the avenging hand of an outraged countryman of mine, and\nhas been carried to his burial in the silent woods. Furthermore, here\nare the fatal letters,\" said Oswald, drawing them from his bosom and\nhanding them to the Count.\n\n\"No living man, save ourselves, I believe, is aware of the nature of\nthem, so it is easy to end their potency for mischief.\"\n\nAt the sight of the fatal letters which had for so long a time hung over\nhim like the sword of Damocles, the countenance of the Count lighted up\nas though it were by magic, and, reading them over carefully, one by\none, he ejaculated, \"Thank God!\" Then rising from his seat he walked to\nthe huge fireplace, in which were the smouldering remains of a wood\nfire, and he dropped them into the embers, and watched the quick flame\nas it sped up the chimney. After this he most carefully raked over the\nfilmy remains a pile of burning charcoal; then he returned to the table,\nand turned a satisfied and kindly look upon Oswald.\n\n\"Did I understand you to say, Saxon, that the Abbot was dead also?\"\n\n\"Yes, sire, I knew well that the work was but half done and the\ndeliverance half accomplished whilst the Abbot lived. I knew also that\nthe least delay would be fatal, so I and a few followers made bold to\nforce an entrance to the monastery, where we found the Abbot in close\nconsultation with one Pierre, whom doubtless you have met.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, Pierre--I know him well--a brave man, but an arrant villain\nwithal. I trust he is not acquainted with this foolish act of mine.\"\n\n\"We found the Abbot communicating the whole matter to him, and by bribes\nand promises inciting him to proceed at once to London, and lay the\nletters before William. He hoped to bring down upon you the King's\nvengeance, and then to possess himself of your lands and possessions.\"\n\n\"And what of Pierre? then, is he at large, and in possession of this\ninformation?\"\n\n\"No, sire. The stalwart fellow who acted the part of squire to me in the\ntournament had cause of quarrel with him personally, as well as a long\ncatalogue of crimes against our people to avenge. He challenged Pierre,\nand single-handed, and in fair fight slew him; so he also is no more.\"\n\n\"Saxon, 'tis well done, whilst I have been moping and irresolute how to\nact, you have planned and executed. It is well done, as I have said, and\nI am a life-long debtor to you. But what is this betwixt yourself and my\ndaughter? I am bewildered. Alice, are you two lovers?\"\n\n\"Yes, father.\"\n\n\"And this thing has been going on for some time evidently, and under my\nvery nose, and I as blind as a bat. This is passing strange; I confess,\nalmost with shame, my obtuseness.\"\n\nAlice rose from her seat, threw her arms about her father's neck, and\naffectionately imprinted a kiss upon his cheek, saying,\n\n\"Forgive us, father; we meant you no wrong, and we dared not confess\nuntil the circumstances were favourable; but all the while have we been\ncarefully planning how we might extricate you from the power of your\nenemy.\"\n\n\"I have nothing to forgive, truly, you silly child. But was it wise to\nturn your heart adrift like a rudderless boat on a tempestuous sea, and\nleave the errant winds to drive it into port whenever they listed. A\nkindly providence, however, has watched over you, and you deserved it.\nBlindly, humanly speaking, your love has been placed, but it has been\nwell placed, in the keeping of a brave man and true, though he be not of\nour race. But whither will all this tend, and how will imperious William\nreceive the tidings--that the daughter of De Montfort has a Saxon\nlover?\"\n\n\"Father, let us have patience and faith; all fear of disaster is now\nremoved. This valiant Saxon lover of mine can wait the pleasure of our\nliege lord; and I--my happiness is so complete, I scarcely know whether\nI shall be, happiest as a lover or a wife. There remains much to be\ndone, and I doubt not but William will know how to estimate the value of\nan ally and friend, who is at once wise and brave, even though he be a\nSaxon.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLI.\n\nNOBILITY IN CONTRAST.\n\n    \"Shall show us how divine a thing\n    A woman may be made.\"\n\n    Wordsworth.\n\n\nAfter the stirring episode which ended in the removal from the scene of\nthe brothers Vigneau, and their henchman Pierre, the relationship\nbetween the outlawed Saxons and the Normans,--as it related to the\ndomains owned by De Montfort and those contiguous,--became much more\namicable and peaceful. The Saxon colony on the mountains boldly advanced\nto the valley, and took up without molestation the tilling of the soil.\nThe sturdy outlaws whose home had been the greenwood, and their\nsustenance the chase and plunder, now many of them returned to the\npeaceful calling they had pursued before the Normans drave them from\ntheir homes, and the plots of ground they lived upon. Intercourse\nbetween the races became regular and uninterrupted; intermarrying being\nof frequent occurrence. The Norman lost in great measure his haughty and\noverbearing manner, and the Saxon hatred of the Norman accordingly\nabated. The language also began to be a compound of Saxon and Norman,\nfor each nation was driven by the exigencies of combined intercourse to\nlearn a little of the other's language; and before my eyes daily did I\nwitness the interblending of peoples. This was a joy to me, to Oswald,\nand to Alice; and indeed no one who thoroughly grasped the situation\ncould ever again look for the overthrow of the Normans; and whilst there\nwere wild, untamed, and irreconcilable Saxons, who fomented strife and\nrebellion, and on the other hand Normans proud, overbearing and cruel,\nyet there were to me palpable signs that the two races would eventually\nbecome one people, to their mutual advantage.\n\nHappy am I also to relate that, through the interposition of Alice, and\nthe kindness and confidence of De Montfort, I was once more restored to\nthe rule of this monastery, and with its privileges and emoluments but\nlittle curtailed. Thus was I able to do much towards the reconciling of\nthese two peoples. Thankful also I am to relate that, amid the multitude\nof claims upon me, I yet had strength and leisure sufficient to write\nthese chronicles.\n\nThe kind reader I hope will pardon me this digression, and the little\negotism I have indulged in, and I will proceed once more with this\nhistory.\n\nDe Montfort made no attempt to ignore the deep obligations that Oswald\nhad laid him under; nor did he attempt to interfere with the plighted\ntroth of these two lovers. Still many misgivings arose in his mind, with\nregard to the attitude his sovereign would assume towards this union. He\nknew well that if William disapproved of it, his will would have to be\nlaw. He debated long with himself the question, whether it would be best\nto first obtain William's consent to the marriage, or boldly solve the\ndifficulty by uniting the pair and then presenting them to the king. The\nbolder course was finally adopted, and the day of the nuptials fixed. By\nthe unanimous wish of all concerned, it was determined that the marriage\nshould be celebrated without pomp and wholesale merriment, as was so\noften the case; but that there should be the rustic games and rural\nsports so dear to the common people.\n\nSo accordingly on the eventful morning the bridal party wended their way\nthrough the forest to this sanctuary, which we had decorated for the\noccasion. As the party passed through the forest with light hearts and\njoyous, there were others to whom these nuptials had most tragic\nresults. Secreted in the thicket and watching the party go by was one,\nto whom every note of the joyous bells rang out a knell. Secreted also\nin another part was one to whom this nuptial act was infamous, and\nbasest treachery; and like a wild beast he waited for an opportunity to\nspring upon the pair, and with one more wild deed of revenge to\naccentuate his undying hatred towards the Norman usurper. Soon after the\nparty passed on their way and came near to the Abbey gates, Ethel,\nmuffled and disguised as a peasant woman, stepped from the thicket from\nwhich she had watched the party go by, and slowly followed them. But she\nhad not proceeded very far, ere some movement in the thicket attracted\nher attention, and turning more attentively to observe, she espied\nSigurd's stealthy figure gliding amongst the trees with his naked sword\nin his hand, and evidently dogging the footsteps of the bridal party. A\nfew fleet footsteps brought her abreast of him.\n\n\"My lord!\" she said, addressing him, \"what does this mean?\"\n\n\"Ethel, is that you? I little thought to see you here,\" said he,\nignoring altogether the question addressed to him.\n\n\"I am here, and opportunely my lord, too, if your attitude does not\ndeceive me. What means that naked sword when there are no enemies\npresent?\"\n\n\"Do you not know,\" he said in low fierce tones, \"what deed is to be done\nto-day? Oswald completes his infamy by wedding this Norman woman, and I\nwill kill him before this day is done, or henceforth ye shall brand me a\ncoward.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Ethel placing herself before him, \"what madness is this\nthat you purpose? Put up that sword, and mark me well! if any evil\nbefall him, and if you dare to injure him or his bride, either now or\nhenceforth, you make of me a mortal enemy, and I will not rest until\nyour crime be punished.\"\n\n\"Ethel, 'tis ye are mad! or else your love at sight of this would be\nturned to mortal hatred! Would I had not met you this day, then would I\nhave wiped out this stain from the Saxon race.\"\n\nThe power wielded by this beautiful Saxon woman over this untamed\nwarrior was unbounded, and bore eloquent testimony to the depth and\npurity of his love for her; for without another word of remonstrance he\nsheathed his sword, and strode away into the depths of the forest.\n\nThen Ethel pursued her journey, following the bridal party into the\nchapel, and sitting down, quite unnoticed, amid a motley throng of\npeasant women and Saxon churls, who had gathered to witness the\nnuptials. The marriage ceremony was designed to be carried out with\ngreat privacy, nevertheless there were a few Normans of note gathered\nthere to witness it. There were also some Saxons, who had claim to\nhonoured names and substantial estates, were it not for the greed of\nthese usurpers; but most of these were now at best but fief-holders of\ntheir conquerors, and with cowed and brow-beaten looks, they were\ncontent to herd with their still more degraded countrymen.\n\nIt was manifest to any careful observer also that, amid the few Normans\ngathered, there was great disapprobation of the rite about to be\ncelebrated; and as the tall muscular Saxon, who had maintained his\nindependence and defied them all, advanced to the altar, they could not\nforget that the glamour of this man's name had given heart to the\nSaxons, and that, on innumerable occasions, he had vigorously interposed\nhimself between these tyrants and the objects of their tyranny. To see\nhim now standing side by side with one of the noblest, and one of the\nmost beautiful of their race, was to them bitter as gall. And I could\nhear distinctly ominous muttering, and the handling of weapons. This, I\nmust confess, was what I had dreaded, and others also, I found, had\nforeseen it; for at that moment Wulfhere and a sturdy band of Saxons,\narmed to the teeth, entered the chapel, and boldly took their stand near\nto the bridal party. At this the exasperation of the Normans was\nincreased, but nevertheless they were distinctly overawed by it, and no\nfurther demonstrations of disapproval were made.\n\nEre the marriage ceremony was completed, and as the monks chaunted the\nBenedicite, Ethel glided noiselessly from her place in the chapel, and\nhurried from the grounds. As soon as she was clear of them she turned\ninto an unfrequented path, which led to the heart of the forest. Sigurd\nhad been secreted near, watching for her return, and immediately she was\nobscured from the gaze of others he joined her.\n\n\"Has this Saxon traitor completed his dishonour, by wedding a daughter\nof the Norman tyrant?\" said he.\n\n\"Oswald has wedded the fair Norman, and I bestow my blessing on them,\nfor 'tis the herald of peace to our downtrodden race, and an augury of\nthe coming union of our people and the Norman.\"\n\n\"My curses on him and the coward brood of Saxons, who have betrayed\ntheir country and, by their submission to the tyrant usurper, have\nhelped to rivet the fetters of bondage upon our race for generations to\ncome!\"\n\n\"My lord, this is most distasteful to me. I will hear no more of it. You\nare utterly incapable of understanding them or their motives, it is\nplain; so desist, once for all, from your unreasoning hatred.\"\n\n\"Whither go ye now, Ethel? and may I go with ye?\" said Sigurd humbly.\n\n\"I am bound for the Monastery of Crowland, my lord.\"\n\n\"_Monastery of Crowland! Never say it, girl!_ What do ye mean? Ye cannot\ngo _there_, Ethel! _Say ye will not go there, Ethel!_\" he shrieked, in\nagonised tones.\n\n\"It is quite true, my lord,\" said Ethel firmly.\n\n\"It cannot be, Ethel! Ye' cannot leave us thus! We are undone if ye\nleave us! Say ye will not go to Crowland! _anywhere but there!_ I\nthought ye would now forget my fierce and boorish habits, and be my\nwife. Oswald is wedded, and ye cannot be his. What hinders ye from being\nmy wife? I will be anything ye ask of me, Ethel! I am quite broken now;\nmy spirit is broken. I will make my peace with the Normans, and wear a\nserf's collar, and let them _whip me, cuff me--anything_! only say ye\nwill not leave me,\" he pleaded piteously.\n\n\"Alas! my lord, that can never be! My love is dead, and will never more\nhave resurrection in this world. I have no capacity for a new affection.\nA maiden's heart can be won but once. Do not importune me, my lord,\nfurther. The end has come; 'tis a new epoch, and in it there is no place\nfor you and me, and 'tis best we should quietly vanish from the scene.\"\n\n\"Is there no _hope_, Ethel, that ye will be my bride? Ye'll maybe change\nsome day. I can wait twenty years, if ye bid me.\"\n\n\"There is no hope, my lord. There can be but one other change for me,\nand that will be when I don the cerements of the tomb.\"\n\n\"_No hope, Ethel? No hope?_\" he slowly and painfully ejaculated, as\nthough each word was a dagger thrust at his heart. \"Then I am lost!\"\n\nSlowly he drew himself up, expanded his broad chest, and threw abroad\nhis brawny arms, as though about to grapple with an enemy.\n\n\"Then,\" said he, \"I'll have a sweet revenge on the Norman foe. I'll give\nmy blood again to the soil I love so well, and get me a warrior's grave.\nThen, welcome Valhalla! Odin! Odin! Norseman's god!\" he cried; \"I am\ncoming soon to join the hero spirits, awaiting me in the land beyond the\ndark and troubled sea.\"\n\nHis head drooped upon his chest, and he covered his face with his hands,\nwhilst his whole frame quivered with emotion. It was the cry of a blind\nfaith, but it was the cry of the soul, and it grappled him to the loving\nheart of infinite mercy.\n\nEthel trembled violently at the bitterness of soul displayed by this\nnoble Viking, and the unbidden tears coursed down her cheeks in sympathy\nwith his sorrow.\n\n\"Adieu, my lord! May God have mercy upon you,\" she said in broken and\ntender accents.\n\n\"Nay, Ethel! I'll go with you, I would like to see the door close upon\nyou safe, if it must be. 'Tis not fitting ye should take this journey\nalone. These Norman dogs are abroad everywhere, and 'tis full of peril\nfor ye to journey alone; they will not respect ye as I do. These Normans\nhave no respect for such as you.\"\n\n\"I am sorry to say I cannot permit this, my lord. It would be both at\nyour peril and my own. Do you not know what a heavy price these Normans\nhave put upon your head?\"\n\n\"Ah! they have made me a wolfshead truly, but they have not done with me\nyet, Ethel; not done with me, they will find! Broken in spirit, as I am,\nI do not fear them; nor do I care what price they have put upon my head.\nI have nothing to live for, but I will _die like a Viking_. If it will\nbe a peril to you if I go with you, well, let it be so; but 'tis bitter\nparting, Ethel.\"\n\n\"Do not fear on my account, my lord. The Abbot Adhelm has made\narrangement for two of the monks to bear me company; and their sacred\noffice and my vow will protect both them and myself from the violence of\nthe Normans.\"\n\n\"Shall I never see ye more, Ethel? _Never more?_ Won't ye come\n_sometimes_ just to have a look at the _old hills_ again? and I'll meet\nye, and we'll see how the world fares with you and me. Promise me ye'll\ncome sometimes, Ethel, and let me look upon your sweet face. I've nought\nto live for but you!\"\n\nEthel was deeply moved at Sigurd's importunity, but she said,--\n\n\"My lord, I cannot hope to meet you any more on earth; but I will\nventure to hope and pray that, when our God, who is a God infinite in\nmercy and compassion, shall strike the balance betwixt right and wrong,\nbetween high ideals and a grovelling ambition--in short, when He shall\n'judge the world in righteousness,' He will find that the recording\nangel has made many an entry to your account, and blurred out many a\nfault with his tears; and that after all it will be found that your\nerring but sturdy virtues outweigh by far your many faults, and the\nlimitations of your life. Then we shall meet again beyond the grave,\nwhere we shall see eye to eye, and 'where the wicked cease from\ntroubling and the weary are at rest.' Once more adieu, my lord!\" So\nsaying, she sped on her way.\n\nSigurd stood silently watching her retreating form until she disappeared\nfrom view, and for several minutes he still stood gazing after her like\none bereft, whilst his massive frame was shaken with powerful emotions.\nThen slowly he muttered to himself: \"The sun is set upon all my hopes;\nmy day is done, and all is lost, save love of country and revenge. I\ncannot, like this Oswald, bend and crouch. A Viking once a Viking for\never.\" Then, turning round, he crashed into the forest.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLII.\n\nVIKINGS ALL! AN OLD TIME SAGA.\n\n    \"Sonorous metal, blowing martial sounds;\n    At which the universal host upsent\n    A shout, that tore hell's concave, and beyond\n    Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.\"\n\n    Milton.\n\n\nNot many months after the foregoing, Sigurd, followed by a score of his\nwild Vikings, sought the cave of the priest Olaf, and they received of\nthe old priest a very hearty but a very grim welcome.\n\n\"Welcome, Jarl! welcome, skalds! all of ye. Ye are the bonniest warriors\nI have seen for many a day,\" he croaked. Truly the sunken eyes of the\ngnarled old Viking sparkled with strange delight, at the sight of so\nmany hardy-looking warriors. He went round to every man of them, and\nfelt severally the stoutness of their limbs, examined their weapons,\ncapering gleefully at the old-style weapons he was so familiar with, and\ngrunting and muttering gibberish all the time of his inspection. Such a\ndisplay of force, unmistakably of the old stock, seemed almost to make\nhim young again; and he mumbled snatches of old time sagas, and weird\nfolk-talk of bygone generations.\n\nTruly they were a desperate, and a desperate-looking band,--wild,\ndaring, and uncouth; having all the instincts of wild beasts,--recking\nnothing of life, unless it were accompanied by some wild triumph over\ntheir enemies, and caring nothing for death; for it meant to them an\nentrance into Valhalla, the Viking's heaven.\n\n\"Priest,\" said Sigurd, \"have ye any message of _forth-telling_ for us?\nWe are hotly pursued by these foreign dogs; they have hunted us out of\nour mountain fastnesses, and now they tread on our heels closely. They\nare encamped for the night in a neighbouring valley, and we cannot shake\nthem off, for they are tracking us with sleuthhounds. Shall we give them\nbattle to-night? Our stomachs are empty, and we shall be sore pressed on\nthe morrow.\"\n\n\"Skalds, tarry ye here a little while and eat, and I will inquire for\nye. Skuld is our friend, and he rules all _man slaying_. He will hear me\nthis night, and if he ride with you to battle, woe will be to these\nNormans--ye shall sweep them before ye. We will set up the\n_Skaldstong_[7] also, presently, and invoke our ancient god Odin, that\nhe may send his '_Maidens of Victory_,' the '_Valkyrias_,' and if they\nhelp, what shall hurt ye? Ye shall hurl your enemies to the ground and\nslay them every one. Come into my cave, the night falls in.\"\n\n[Footnote 7: Imprecation pole.]\n\nSo saying, the old priest led the way into a spacious cavern, which\nopened out from the vast cleft where they stood. To the right of the\ncave a wood fire was burning low, and along the edge of it there were a\nnumber of natural seats, formed by ledges of the rock. Olaf bade his\nvisitors be seated, then he lighted several torches at the fire, and\nsuspended them against the rocky sides of the cave. In their flickering\nand fitful light the cave presented a very weird appearance. Here and\nthere the white and jagged surfaces of the limestone rock seemed like\nhuman figures standing in the shadows, whilst the dark recesses threw\nthem out like sentinels on guard.\n\nEvidently it was a great occasion for the priest Olaf,--his ghostly\noffice had fallen greatly into disuse of late years, to his great grief\nand chagrin. But troublous times had come, and men, unable to cope with\ntheir enemies, came now humbly to him for aid in their dire distress;\nand as he rambled about the cave, his mumbling, muttering and chanting\nnever ceased. First he ransacked the cave for food for these famishing\nguests, and whilst they were eating he mended his fire. Then, from a\nstone coffin in one of the recesses, he fetched the whitened bones of\nsome famous chieftain who had led them in the olden time. These he\nproceeded to fasten around his neck and body. Next he fetched from\nanother recess a long pole with runes carved upon it. This he erected,\nand made it to stand by inserting its lower end in a hole evidently\nprepared for it. This was the \"_Skaldstong_\" or _Imprecation pole_: its\nuse being to invoke the curses of Odin upon their enemies, and to invoke\nthe help of the \"Valkyrias,\" whom warriors often saw riding on fiery\nsteeds to their help.\n\nAll this time Olaf never ceased the horrid chant, or song. Strange\ngibberish indeed--sometimes running into metric verse, which he chanted\nin a rude sing-song voice--at other times it was wild imprecations and\ninterjections, which he flung out with frenzied gestures, and in\nthrilling tones and loud.\n\nWhilst this proceeding was confined to himself, it acted with electrical\neffect upon these wild men. Slowly at first, then with accelerated pace,\nthey were worked up into a strange frenzy; first giving utterance to low\npassionate interjections, then, as the infection became more feverish,\nthey seemed completely carried away,--shouting, starting to their feet,\nand brandishing their swords, as though in deadly combat. Ere long every\nman, Sigurd included, was in a state of overwhelming excitement,\ncapering round the Skaldstong, holding aloft their weapons in the air,\nand making the cave ring again with their shouts and shrieking.\n\nThe following is a sample of the rude and uncouth song which Olaf\nchaunted:--\n\n    \"Odin, the Norse god,\n    Skaldstong we rear;\n    Curse us the foe near,\n    Cold-ribbed[8] and foul.\n    Nithing[9] is the Saxon,\n    Marrowless his bones;\n    Jotun,[10] we call thee,\n    Loose us the watch-dogs.\n    Snarls the fierce wolf,\n    Creeping light[11] bearing;\n    Gyg, woman of Jotnar,\n    Haste on before;\n    Gird on the Hel-shoes,[12]\n    Freeze up the blood.\n    Terror-full and shaking,\n    The sallowy kite hovers;\n    The wolf digs his fangs,\n    Drinks up the blood.\n    Skuld[13] has gotten him\n    Vedrfolnir's[14] prey;\n    Told o'er the corpses\n    Fattened with gore.\n    Water sprinkled heroes,\n    Nornir hath life fated;\n    Valkyrias hath guarded,\n    Shout for the prey.\"\n\n[Footnote 8: Cold-hearted.]\n\n[Footnote 9: Coward.]\n\n[Footnote 10: Race of gods.]\n\n[Footnote 11: Lantern.]\n\n[Footnote 12: The dead were fitted with Hel-shoes.]\n\n[Footnote 13: Ruler of man-slaying.]\n\n[Footnote 14: fabled Hawk.]\n\nGibberish it seems to modern ears; but upon these rude men,--with\ngrossly over-grown superstitions, and dwarfish reasoning\nfaculties,--this song, jerked out in frenzied exclamations and fanatical\nintensity, the effect was electrical and intensely contagious.\n\nWhilst the excitement was at its height, above the din the priest's\nvoice was heard as he shouted,--\n\n\"_Skalds, hoi! I scent the battle_; I smell the blood of the Normans.\n\"Gyg,[15]\" the woman of Jotun race, has gone before ye, to confound the\nfoe. _Scalds, hoi!_ Arise! scatter your enemies!\"\n\n[Footnote 15: Witch.]\n\nAs he said this he handed to every man a small piece of wood, with runes\ncarved upon it, and each one hid it under his garment. It was a sure\nprotection against wounds and death. Then, catching up an image of Thor\nand carrying it before him, he cried,--\n\n\"Follow me.\"\n\nSo saying, he led the way, followed by Sigurd and the rest in a state of\nintense excitement. Together they scrambled out on the limestone hills\nabove them. It was quite dark, saving as the boisterous wind sent the\nbroken and ominous-looking clouds scurrying before it, across the face\nof the heavens, and permitting the stars to look down to earth. The\nelements seemed, indeed, to have caught the fierce infection, for the\nwind howled and whistled against the huge boulders, and the bare\nlimestone precipices on the hillside; and it soughed and roared through\nthe woods below, rocking and tossing the tree-tops until they seemed\npossessed by the furies. The fierce band of men responded in savage glee\nto this tempest of the elements; every man amongst them believing that\nthis fierce raging of nature was the work of the supernatural agencies\ninvoked, and already hastening to help them in this work of revenge. The\nold priest's vigour and animation was marvellous: he seemed to have\nshaken off the infirmities of age; the wild fanatic spirit within\nachieving a complete triumph over the weak and shattered body. He led\nthe band at a brisk pace, chanting as he went the same weird song. Ere\nlong, the downward trend which they had followed led them within sight\nof the Norman camp fires, at the sight of which they could not resist\nthe impulse to shout and savagely brandish their swords. But the state\nof the elements was such that scarcely any liberties of that sort would\nbetray them.\n\nThe Normans were encamped in an open glade, with the wood all around\nthem and within twenty yards of their camp fires. Previous bitter\nexperience, however, had taught them extreme caution. Two or three\nsentinels paced to and fro, and several fierce dogs lay curled up in the\nglow of the fire. Besides this, every sleeper, as he lay wrapped in the\narms of peaceful sleep, grasped the hilt of his sword.\n\nPresently one of the dogs raised his head and listened, then he started\nto his feet with a fierce growl.\n\n\"What is the matter, Gripper?\" said one of the sentinels stooping and\npatting him on the head. \"'Tis only the shrieking of the wind amid the\ntrees.\"\n\nThe dog listened intently with his eyes on the wood, and gave one or two\nimpatient snarls as though somewhat appeased, but not satisfied.\n\n\"Lie down again, sir,\" said the sentinel, again patting him.\n\nThe dog very reluctantly obeyed this command, stretching himself again\nwith a low, fierce growl, and placing his nose between his forepaws,\nwhilst his eyes shone in the darkness, and rolled from side to side most\nominously. Not a minute had elapsed before he sprang to his feet again;\nthis time sending forth a loud, fierce bay, which woke the echoes and\neffectually roused every sleeper in the camp. Immediately the dog sprang\ntowards the adjacent thicket with savage fierceness. But just as quickly\nhe beat a cowardly retreat with his tail between his legs, like a\nwhipped spaniel, for he had fronted the weird and unearthly form of the\npriest Olaf bearing the image of Thor before him, and the bones of the\ndead hero dangling from his neck and girdle.\n\nWith a savage yell and impetuous rush the Vikings burst into the centre\nof the camp, sending up their fierce war cry--SKALDS HOI!--to the utter\nterror and bewilderment of the half-awakened Normans. Like infuriated\ndemons they laid about them with terrible effect; and as the Normans\nrealised the position, many of them sprang forward on the instant, sword\nin hand, only to recoil abashed with terror as they faced the weird form\nof the old priest, who, without weapon, or implement of war of any kind,\nheaded the fierce onslaught. In their terror and superstition they\nthought that the devil himself fought for the Vikings, and they gave\nback in mortal terror. Meantime their assailants made good use of these\nmoments of abject consternation of their enemies, yelling frantically,\nand cutting down the Normans wholesale; they themselves being thoroughly\npossessed with the belief that the supernatural powers fought for them.\nThe onslaught was so furious that the Normans staggered and reeled\nbefore them, and hovered for a moment on the verge of an utter rout and\nstampede. But one Norman in this desperate strait broke the spell, for\nhe sprang towards Olaf shouting,--\n\n\"_Witch or devil, have at thee!_ I'll try cold steel upon thy pate,\" and\nwith a blow he cleft the skull of the old priest.\n\nThe effect of this was magical, the Normans sent up a shout which made\nthe greenwood ring again, and the echoes in the distant hills to send\nback long reverberations.\n\nNow the Normans laid about them with vigour, and to some purpose. They\noutnumbered the Saxon by two or three to one, but fully one-third had\nbeen cut down ere they had courage to face the foe. Now the battle raged\nwith more equal fortunes. Blow upon blow, no quarter, no mercy given or\ntaken. At a terrible pace the ranks of each party dwindled, and ere long\nSigurd alone of the Saxons was left to do battle with three of the\nNormans. A giant he was in strength compared with his antagonists.\nBetter equipped also he was for defence, for he wore a coat of mail, and\non his head a spiked helmet, with a shield of bronze upon his arm. But\nhis antagonists wilily beset him behind and before. With a spring and a\nblow he cut down the man who fronted him; but whilst doing it, one of\nthe others cut a deep gash in his thigh from behind, and the third drave\nthe point of his sword between two of his ribs. Furiously Sigurd turned\nupon them, and with a blow cut down another of his assailants. But again\na cowardly stroke from behind severed the sinews of his left arm, and\nhis shield dropped immediately from the powerless limb. So these two\nalone remained of two stalwart bands of men, who a quarter of an hour\nago revelled in the pride of health and vigour. Sigurd was fearfully\nwounded, with a deadly faint coming over him from pain and loss of\nblood. He still, however, retained his sword arm unimpaired. Had the\nNorman fought an evasive battle, time was in his favour, and the burly\ngiant would have been helplessly at his mercy. But the Norman was not\nsufficiently alive to this fact, though he knew Sigurd was deeply\nwounded. On he came, furiously attacking his man, and the battle was\nended, for with one sweep of his long broadsword Sigurd cut him down.\nThen for a moment he swayed to and fro, with strength all gone. Next, he\nstaggered forward a step or two, rolling his eyes around as though in\nquest of further foemen. Stumbling eventually over the corpse of a\nfallen enemy, he fell forward amid a heap of mangled corpses; and, with\na deep groan, consciousness was gone.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIII.\n\nTHE CONQUEROR CONQUERED.\n\n    \"Proceed my son! this youthful shame expel:\n    An honest business never blush to tell.\"\n\n    Homer.\n\n\nNot many days were permitted to elapse after the marriage of Oswald and\nAlice, ere De Montfort, accompanied by his Saxon son-in-law, proceeded\nto London. The Count knew well that, if the resentment of William was\nonce aroused, it would be a difficult matter to appease him. He was well\naware also of the fact that there were Norman neighbours, who were\nexasperated at his conduct in bestowing his daughter upon a Saxon rebel;\neven though that rebel had but maintained a defensive attitude, and used\nhis influence to calm the fierce passions which had been aroused in this\nstrife of races. They knew he had effectually barred them in the\nbarbarous policy on which they were bent; for which they gave him no\nthanks. If these malcontents but got the ear of the Conqueror, grievous\ncomplications might possibly ensue.\n\nWhen De Montfort reached London the king was at Winchester; so to that\nplace he and Oswald at once repaired. They proceeded to the castle\ntogether, but De Montfort alone sought an audience of the king.\n\nIt should here be stated that Northumbria, as the north of England\ngenerally was termed, was a grievous thorn in the side of William. To\nkeep in check this people, and to suppress the ferocious outbursts of\nthe downtrodden Saxons which were constantly taking place, was a most\nharassing and costly business; so he was keenly anxious to have reliable\ninformation and advice, with regard to the turbulent north. Thus De\nMontfort was welcomed heartily. As fortune would have it, Odo, who was\nDe Montfort's chief enemy, was away in Normandy, and there was nothing,\nconsequently, but the jealousy of Fitz-Osborne, that was likely to\ninterfere with the success of his suit; and this nobleman alone was\npresent at the audience which De Montfort had with the king.\n\nThe Count was ushered into the audience chamber without delay. There,\nthe king occupied a chair of state in the centre of the wall opposite to\nthe entrance, with a richly embroidered canopy above his head, and side\nhangings drooping to the wall and floor on either side.\n\nAs De Montfort prostrated himself to the floor, the king rose from his\nseat and, bidding him rise, shook him by the hand.\n\n\"Ye did well for our cause at Hastings, De Montfort, and should not be\nforgotten by us; but how comes it we have had so little of your presence\nat court since then? I trow ye have been over busy scaring Saxon rooks\nfrom their nests, and preparing yourself a roost in them. 'Tis an\noccupation my valiants knights have much busied themselves in since that\nday. Natheless, I mind me I have set my scribes to make a _book_, so I\nmay know where all the fat manors lie; my liegemen and barons know their\nbusiness well enough, and are going scot free of taxes; whilst the king\nhas got nothing yet but hard blows and a beggar's dole. Howsomever, I\nwill hear thy plaint. Thou would'st have more lands, or royal warrant\nfor what thou hast already grabbed, I suppose; for that is the usual\nthing.\"\n\n\"I crave your pardon, sire, but it is not for lands I ask, for I fought\nmy way into savage Northumbria, and ventured to lay hold of a tolerable\ndemesne there, and----\"\n\n\"'Twill be passing fair, I warrant, De Montfort, if thou think it\ntolerable. Fat, fertile, and ample. Well, proceed! proceed! I make a\nnote of it thou didst not deem it necessary to say to thy king, May I?\nBut no matter, that has come to be a mere formality.\"\n\n\"My purpose, sire, if your majesty will hear me, is to report the state\nof the land and its prospects; as well as to acquaint your majesty with\nan alliance which I have formed with one of the ablest of the Saxon\nchieftains of the north.\"\n\n\"By my halidame, De Montfort! hast thou ventured to form an alliance\n_too_, with the Saxon dogs? Truly thou art over bold. Much too bold. I\nthink also thou hast forgotten the example of the countryman who warmed\nthe snake by the fire. I'll none of this setting at nought of my\nauthority, De Montfort, mark me!\"\n\n\"Hear me patiently, your majesty,\" said De Montfort, alarmed at\nWilliam's testiness. \"I have brought this Saxon to court, and he will,\nif permitted, make oath of fealty to your majesty, and there is no Saxon\nleader north of the Humber whose influence is so great as his.\"\n\n\"Aye, aye! make oath of fealty readily enough! like the rest of them,\nand with as much honesty also. Truly, he matches thy boldness, De\nMontfort, in venturing hither after the tumult which has taken place at\nDurham. Natheless, we will see him, we will see him nevertheless; for\nsuch boldness is catching. But if he be advised, he will be somewhat\ncareful how he deport himself, for he ventures into the jaws of the\nlion; and some of these Saxon boors are too loud of the mouth, and think\nit fine to 'beard' me, as they call it. Thou hast brought him hither\nthou sayest?\"\n\n\"Yes, sire, he awaits your majesty's pleasure.\"\n\n\"Let him be ready, and we will call him presently, when we have\nconsidered the matter for a little while.\"\n\nSo De Montfort vanished from the presence chamber, and the king grasped\nFitz-Osborne's arm, and together they paced the room in earnest\nconversation.\n\n\"What thinkest thou Fitz-Osborne, of this conduct of De Montfort? I\nwould our brother Odo, who is now in Normandy, were here; for he hath\nsomewhat against the Count, though I know not of a certainty what it is.\nI have myself heard some whisper of his playing fast and loose in his\nloyalty to me, but nothing of it has ever come to head. Knowest thou\nought of this?\"\n\n\"H--m!\" said Fitz-Osborne warily, and craftily, \"there are whispers\nabout, as your majesty says, but I would advise your majesty to hear him\nand his Saxon ally, as he calls him. Northumbria is a wild part, and if\nhe can, through this Saxon caitiff, exercise any substantial influence\nover that part of the country, it may be worth while to use him for the\npurpose; but I would not trust overmuch to either.\"\n\nAs a matter of fact, Fitz-Osborne was pleased at the prospect of having\nDe Montfort removed so far from the councils of the king; for he was\njealous of the ascendency he had acquired, and feared greatly any\ndivision of the royal favour.\n\n\"Thou sayest right. Tis best to hear the whole matter; though 'tis\ncharacterised by too much boldness to be to my liking. However, if there\nbe a fox in the bag he cannot help but stink; and thou hast a sharp\nnose, Fitz-Osborne, and will smell him out promptly, I warrant.\"\n\nSo the king ordered the suppliants to be brought in.\n\nWilliam still clung to the arm of Fitz-Osborne when De Montfort was\nushered in, followed by Oswald; and together they stood at the entrance,\nawaiting the king's command to advance. But no sooner did William set\neyes on Oswald than he convulsively clutched the arm he held, and\nhoarsely whispered, \"_Notre Dame!_ What is this, Fitz-Osborne? 'Tis\nHarold come to life again! Did we not find his corpse at Hastings?\"\n\n\"Be calm, Your Majesty. This is a much younger man than Harold, though\nhe belikes him wonderfully.\"\n\nThe king calmly surveyed Oswald for a minute or two, and his composure\nreturned. Then he motioned De Montfort to draw near, and the Count and\nOswald advanced together, and bent their knees before the conqueror, De\nMontfort saying,--\n\n\"If it please Your Majesty, this loyal subject of yours is Oswald, Saxon\nEaldorman, son of Ealdorman Ulfson, chieftains of Northumbria under\nSaxon rule.\"\n\n\"Rise, De Montfort,\" said William.\n\nThen he motioned them to a seat opposite to his chair of state, which he\nresumed.\n\n\"Saxon,\" said he, addressing Oswald, \"thou hast come, I understand, to\nmake oath of fealty to me, and to swear in presence of myself and my\nchamberlain to be my faithful liegeman unto death.\"\n\n\"I have come with that purpose, sire, if it be your royal pleasure.\"\n\n\"If thou art minded to be both hypocrite and knave, first swearing\nfealty to me, and then proceeding straightway to stir up my subjects to\nrebellion, thou wilt have many illustrious examples before thee, truly.\nHow long hast thou been of thy present mind? 'Tis a late-found\nrepentance, I warrant me! Didst thou oppose me at Hastings?\"\n\n\"I did oppose Your Majesty at Hastings, I confess.\"\n\n\"At York, also, I doubt not, if thou art minded to confess it, Saxon!\"\n\n\"I opposed Your Majesty at York, too,\" said Oswald fearlessly.\n\n\"Tut, tut, dog!\" said William, grinding his teeth vehemently, and\ngrasping the hilt of his sword. \"A very promising liegeman, truly, De\nMontfort!\" turning savagely to the Count. Then addressing Oswald, he\nsaid, \"Thou art to the fore, I perceive, when half a chance offers to\noverthrow my authority, and to kill my men, Saxon dog! How comes this\nwhining for peace now? Thou hast had the Norman grip upon thy throat, I\nopine. 'Tis that has changed thy mind.\"\n\n\"I fear not the Norman, sire, for, if needs be, I am prepared to die for\nmy country; but I have duly weighed the whole matter, and I recognise\nthe futility of further resistance. I have also steadily, and for some\ntime, counselled peace in our witan. If Your Majesty is pleased to\nextend your royal clemency to me, you will find me a loyal subject.\"\n\nThe frank and fearless tone and bearing of the Saxon chieftain evidently\nimpressed the king, for he surveyed Oswald steadily for a minute or two,\nmeasuring him from head to foot, and studying his face as though he\nwould read him through and through. Then addressing De Montfort, said,--\n\n\"Wait in the ante-room; we will consider this.\"\n\nNo sooner had the pair retired, than William started from his seat, and\ngrasping Fitz-Osborne's arm, he exclaimed,--\n\n\"By the splendour of God![16] this Saxon is a pretty fellow,\nFitz-Osborne! Got character in him! A demon, I warrant me, as an enemy,\nbut to be sought after as a friend. Didst thou mark how he stood up like\na man to me? By the holy rood! he looked me in the face without wincing,\nand there was none of that hypocritical whine in his tone, which I hate\nabove all. Didst notice also how he out with the truth boldly, in a\nplease God and dare the devil sort of way that I like? If he be really\nfriendly disposed, we will conciliate him by all that lies in our power.\nHow sayest thou, Fitz-Osborne?\"\n\n[Footnote 16: William's favourite oath.]\n\n\"He looks like a man who could be of service if he be minded to do so.\nThough, I confess it, there is an independence about him, which would be\nbetter if it were taken out of him. He looks as though he could make\nmischief. But I would question De Montfort further about this alliance\nhe speaks of. It would be better if we had further light.\"\n\n\"Gramercy! Fitz-Osborne, I forgot about this alliance altogether. Call\nDe Montfort alone!\" said he, addressing one of the attendants.\n\nWhen the Count again entered the room the king said,--\n\n\"What is this alliance thou hast formed with this Saxon, De Montfort?\"\n\n\"I drove him, sire, in the first instance from his castle; but he built\nhimself a stronghold on one of our mountains, from which the force I had\nat hand utterly failed to dislodge him; it is a wild and mountainous\npart, sire.\"\n\n\"Then thou shouldest have applied to me for help, and not have permitted\na nest of vermin to thrive under thy nose.\"\n\n\"I crave Your Majesty's pardon; but, if you can call it to mind, I\ncommunicated with you at York the last time you came north, and then set\nforth fully the position of this Saxon and his followers.\"\n\n\"But thou asked no help! I remember it well; thou didst say how\npeaceably disposed this man was; and that he might safely be left\nalone.\"\n\n\"I think Your Majesty slightly mistakes the tenor of my message.\nNevertheless, friendly intercourse was opened between us. He visited me\nat the castle with overtures of peace, which he has loyally kept. He is\nalso at this present time at deadly feud with another Saxon chieftain,\none Sigurd; because he refused to join an organised insurrection. Also\nin a secret assembly of the Saxon witan, which was summoned and presided\nover by the Atheling, he boldly advocated peace.\"\n\n\"Hold there! Thou saidst the Atheling summoned an assembly of the Saxon\nwitan? My despatches say that the Prince gave secret information to my\nforces of this traitorous assembly, and protested his loyalty; and he is\nnow at Rouen at my charges.\"\n\n\"True, Your Majesty, he did; but not until this Oswald denounced him as\na coward to his face, and declared that he was unfit to reign in\nEngland. Many others then, following this Oswald's lead, declared they\nwould not follow such a prince. Then, in the darkness, he sneaked away\nto a neighbouring encampment of Normans and gave information.\"\n\n\"Hearest thou this, Fitz-Osborne? By the splendour of God! But we must\nknow more of this. But no matter,\" said he with an impatient gesture.\n\"Proceed. What further about this alliance which thou hast formed with\nthe Saxon?\"\n\n\"We have dwelt together in a neighbourly way, having little trouble with\nthe numerous bands of outlaws ranging the bruneswald; for his authority\nis acknowledged as far south as Sherwood Forest. If it please Your\nMajesty, I have likewise given him my daughter in marriage.\"\n\n\"Gramercy! De Montfort; but thou shouldst be king! Thou dost act right\nroyally! I lose my breath discoursing with thee! Is this the lovely\nAlice we admired so much, now years agone, thou hast given him then?\"\n\n\"My only daughter, Alice, Your Majesty.\"\n\n\"Were there none of my barons thou couldst have bestowed the hand of thy\ndaughter upon? Dost thou not know I claim to be consulted in such\nmatters?\"\n\n\"'Twas a love match, Your Majesty. These two plighted their troth in\ntrue romance fashion, without consulting me. I was satisfied, however,\nthat it would greatly strengthen Your Majesty's authority in the north\nof England.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut! Ha! that was deftly put, De Montfort; but I have too many of\nmy knights, who make loud professions of strengthening my authority,\nwhilst all the while they deliberately set it at naught. A precious\nloyalty it is. Now wait a little while, till thou hearest our commands.\"\n\n\"Now Fitz-Osborne, the cat is out of the bag! what thinkest thou? De\nMontfort is a wily dog, and has not told the whole story, I warrant me.\nI like not this setting me at naught in my own kingdom; 'tis passing\nstrange, but I like this Oswald, Saxon though he be, better than my own\ncountryman. I like the look of him, and I think good will come out of\nhim. What sayest thou?\"\n\n\"If this Saxon can be depended upon, it will do good doubtless, sire.\nHis Norman wife, too, should influence him aright.\"\n\n\"So think I, Fitz-Osborne. Call De Montfort and the Saxon.\"\n\nOn the entrance of the pair, William said,--\n\n\"De Montfort, thy conduct has been most irregular, but, I condone it on\nconditions, which I will name presently.\" \"Saxon,\" said he, addressing\nOswald, \"I congratulate thee on winning one of our most accomplished\nNorman maidens. I am further, upon a consideration of the whole matter,\ndisposed to trust thee; and upon thy taking the oath of fealty, I will\nconfer upon thee lands ample for thy needs. De Montfort, I create thee\nEarl of Northumberland; upon thee and thy Saxon son-in-law, I lay my\ncharges for the welfare of that province. If ye do well, well will come\nof it; but I will have you beware, for if I find you unfaithful, I will\nroot you out of the land, root and branch.\" So saying, with an imperious\nwave of his hand he dismissed them from his presence.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIV.\n\nTHE LAST OF THE VIKINGS.\n\n    \"An old man broken with the storms of state,\n    Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;\n    Give him a little earth for charity!\"\n\n    Shakespeare.\n\n\nOne chill December morning, as certain lay brothers of the monastery of\nCrowland were engaged gathering <DW19>s in the woods to feed the fires\nof the Abbey, they came across a strange-looking figure, sitting on a\nfallen tree and leaning heavily against another. His cheeks were\nblanched like the snow, and his long red hair and beard was falling\nunkempt and matted over his shoulders and chest. He seemed sadly worn\nand helpless, with strength utterly exhausted; but beneath his shaggy\neyebrows his eyes glowed with a strange, unnatural light. Beside him sat\na half-starved hound whining piteously, and licking the cold and\nemaciated fingers of his master. The churls gazed upon the stranger in\nabject terror, thinking him to be some satyr or spirit of the wood, who\nwould surely work them ill; but as the figure beckoned them feebly to\napproach nearer, with much trembling and irresolution they drew near\nenough to hear his voice.\n\n\"Can you tell me if I am near the monastery of Crowland?\" said he\nfeebly.\n\n\"You are not many bowshots from thence,\" they replied.\n\n\"Can you tell me whether Ethel the Saxon, daughter of Beowulf, dwells\nthere?\"\n\n\"Torfrida, wife of Hereward, and Godiva, wife of Leofric, are here; and\nthere is a younger one called Ethel, with the flaxen hair. She is a holy\nwoman, much given to penances and fasting, and she is very good to the\npoor; is it her you seek?\"\n\n\"I have come a long way to seek this Ethel, and I am sorely wounded and\nvery faint. Could ye, for love or charity, carry me in your bullock\ncart, for I have no further strength, and must perish shortly if ye\nleave me here.\"\n\nSo, assured by the evident helplessness of this strange being, the\nchurls came a little nearer, and asked him some further questions\nconcerning his strange quest. Eventually, they unloaded their rude cart\nof its burden of wood; then they hastily pulled some tall grass, and\nscraped together some dead leaves. Of these they made a rough sort of\nbed to ease the jolting of the rude cart over the rough ground. With\nmuch difficulty they lifted the stranger in, for he was of burly build,\nthough sorely wasted. Then, slowly and tediously, through the windings\nof the forest, they returned to the Abbey. Nourishments and cordials\nwere administered to him, his untended wounds were washed and dressed,\nand he was put to bed.\n\n\"Ye are very kind to me, but have ye not a maiden called Ethel here? Let\nme but speak with Ethel, daughter of the Saxon thane, Beowulf,\" pleaded\nthe stranger.\n\n\"Be patient, stranger,\" said Torfrida, who bent tenderly over him,\nmoistening his parched lips. \"Ethel is on an errand of mercy to the sick\npoor.\"\n\n\"Ah! ye know not how I love this Ethel--things might have been different\nif Ethel had not left me.\"\n\nAs soon as Ethel returned from her mission, she was informed that a\nwounded stranger had come from far in quest of her. Immediately she\nhastened to the bedside of the sick one, wondering, and tremulous with\nagitation, and with many strange misgivings of heart.\n\nIt was as she feared--there lay Sigurd in pain and great weakness, his\nbroad frame shattered and wasted almost to skin and bone. It was\npalpable also, that the fierce, restless spirit was hopelessly and\nrapidly consuming the small remnant of vitality still spared to him. His\neyes were deeply sunken, and shining with unnatural light, telling but\ntoo plainly that another grim and unwelcome visitor was lurking near,\nand that no human skill could long keep _him_ at bay.\n\nEthel sat down beside him in her convent habit. What a transformation\nwas here! Sigurd uttered a deep groan when he set eyes on her. The long\nflaxen locks, once the crown and glory of her youth, were cut short, and\nthe remnant hidden by her hood. The blue eyes, so tender and expressive,\nand the fine, regular features were still there. The soft, fair skin was\na shade paler, and the short time which had elapsed had palpably aged\nher, or else it was the cloister habit which made her seem so much\nolder. One thin hand was immediately grasped by the worn and attenuated\nfingers of Sigurd, as he looked up most reverently into her face. This\nfair Saxon had long been to him _St. Ethel_, and her form was enshrined\nin his heart. He proceeded to question her in serious tones.\n\n\"I am well nigh hunted to death, as you see, Ethel--dead beat--dead beat\nat last. What think ye, Ethel; shall I get well?\"\n\nEthel shook her head.\n\n\"I am afraid not in this world, my lord.\"\n\nHe responded with a low groan.\n\n\"But I can't be spared now, Ethel; the old cause is desperate now, and\nsorely in need of me. What will become of my oppressed countrymen, with\nnever a leader to look to?\"\n\n\"God alone knows, my lord, but all things are in His hand; and I trust\nthat through this fiery ordeal, and through the long struggle, He will\nbring profit to the nation. Already signs are manifest that the hatred\nof William is abating, and Saxons here and there are being received into\nfavour.\"\n\n\"Ah! Saxons being received into favour by the tyrant usurper! Then, I\nwot the renegade Oswald, and sycophants and timeservers generally, will\nthrive. My curses on the cowardly brood!\"\n\n\"Call them not renegade, my lord, neither curse them. Oswald will best\nserve his countrymen by frankly accepting what was inevitable in any\ncase.\"\n\n\"Nothing was inevitable, if he had but had the mind to stand by his\ncountry. We would have followed him anywhere, for there was none of us\nwith a head to command like he had; and he wielded a powerful sword. No\nother man ever got the better of me in single combat, and I could have\nworshipped him had he stood by us. 'Twas the Norman woman bewitched him,\nand I hate him for saving his coward's skin and betraying his country,\nbecause a dark-eyed siren and temptress beckoned him.\"\n\n\"My lord, no more of this! He was the wisest amongst us, and saw\nfarthest; and if you and others had been guided by him, there would have\nbeen less of Saxon blood shed. I think I see clearly in this revolution\nthe hand of a wiser and a mightier than he--One who has seen fit to cast\nyour Viking hardihood and valour, and stern, severe virtues, and the\nSaxons' milder traits, along with Norman chivalry and refinement, into\nthe eternal crucible. You and I and ours, it is true, may lose our\nidentity; but all that is best will reappear in the ages to come.\"\n\n\"Ye speak in riddles, Ethel. Do ye think the Viking race will lose its\nidentity? Never!\" said he, with fierce emphasis. \"Vikings, who have\nsailed every sea and conquered everywhere, to be swallowed up by this\nwomanish people--never! This will not do! Get me my sword, Ethel; if I\nbut feel it I shall be strong again.\"\n\n\"The sword is resting in its scabbard, my lord. It has long since drunk\nin its fill of blood--let it rest for ever.\"\n\n\"Why have ye taken my sword from me, Ethel? I can wield it yet. I tell\nthee, Ethel\"--making a vain effort to raise himself--\"there's marrow in\nthe Viking race yet, and we shall sweep the seas again as of old! I will\nnot lie here. Let me to the Bruneswald; I have men left yet, and we'll\nmake a fight for it to the end!\"\n\n\"My lord, you will never handle sword again. The Viking's cause--the\n_reign of force_--has received its mortal wound. 'Twill linger probably\nthrough centuries of darkness, and amid the twilight of the days still\nlater; for men, benighted men, here and there, will give it a spasmodic\nand fitful revival; but never more in the ages of the world will the\ngaunt and hateful reign of force be paramount.\"\n\n\"Ethel! Ethel! Ye embitter my death. What will ye have, girl? Are our\ngods dead, think ye? Where are our Sagas? Bethink ye, there is the\nViking race beyond the North Sea, and they'll come again; and do ye\nthink these sleek and well-fed Normans will drive them out? The hardy\nwarriors from the mountains and fiords over the fierce sea are coming.\nHist!\" he shouted, half delirious, \"do ye hear their shouts? Will ye\nreach me my sword, Ethel? I must be up and meet them!\" Then he sank back\nexhausted once more. \"Tut, tut, we deserve this for our folly. What am I\ndoing; going to die in a bed? The sea is the Viking's home. Why did we\never take to land, except for plunder? Accursed ease and effeminacy have\nundone us. But we'll to the sea again. Wait awhile, Ethel; ye shall see\nwho will be masters.\"\n\n\"Calm yourself, my lord, and think of other things, for time is short.\nThe Viking's gods _are_ dead if ye ask me, or what is more true, they\nnever had an existence, and were only the creation of a wild and\nbarbarous fancy.\"\n\nSigurd looked at her steadily.\n\n\"Oh, ye are a Christian now, Ethel! Ye should not have left the old\nfaith; ye take the heart out of me; ye should have stood by the old\nfaith, then we should have met again in Valhalla, you and I. Ye know not\nhow ye make the Viking's death hard to bear: ye take my staff from me as\nI ford the stream.\"\n\n\"We shall never meet in Valhalla, my lord! but we may meet again in the\nkingdom of our God.\"\n\n\"Not me, Ethel! ye do not mean that I may go to the Christian's\nheaven--bethink you what I am.\"\n\n\"Yes, you may go, my lord. I am not without hopes that even you may be\nfound there. Certain you shall, if you are willing.\"\n\n\"Will you be there, Ethel?\"\n\n\"Through the mercy of God I hope to be there.\"\n\n\"But ye say He is a Prince of Peace?\"\n\n\"Yes, He is the Prince of Peace.\"\n\n\"Ye know I am a Viking; what could I do in the Christian's heaven?\nShould I have my trusty sword?\"\n\n\"No, my lord, you would need no sword there, for hatred, oppression, and\nwrong, are unknown in heaven.\"\n\n\"Will ye be my bride then, Ethel?\"\n\n\"They neither marry, nor are given in marriage, my lord.\"\n\n\"Should I be near _you_, Ethel, always?\"\n\n\"I should like to be near you, if I may, my lord.\"\n\n\"Ah, then I would like to go to the Christian's heaven if I might be\nnear _you_. There will be no Normans there, will there, Ethel?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord, I hope there will be Normans there also.\"\n\n\"Norman's there! Ah! that would spoil it, Ethel. What would a Skald like\nme do with my heart on fire with hatred of these Normans? It will not\ndo, Ethel! It will not do! The Christian's heaven will not do for the\nViking!\"\n\n\"But our God will give you a new heart. He takes our heart of stone and\ngives us a heart of flesh, so that we _love_ our enemies.\"\n\nSigurd responded with a deep groan. \"But Ethel, girl, what madness is\nthis? I should not be a Viking! what should I be, then? Should I wear\nsilks, and strut about in feathers and fringeing and be a flabby\ncourtezan? If so, I think I would prefer the Viking's Valhalla, after\nall; it suits the Viking best. Why won't ye go with _me_, Ethel, girl?\nLet the Norman and the slaves of Saxons have their heaven. Perhaps ye\nthink I should drag ye over the wild hills, or through the greenwood;\nbut I would be gentle to ye. Ye little know how I love ye, Ethel.\"\n\n\"My lord, your mind is very dark; I will send a priest who will instruct\nyou in these things.\"\n\n\"I want never a priest, Ethel; ye can tell me best. Do ye know, Ethel,\nthe old priest Olaf is dead? What evils have befallen our race! I fear\nye prophesy rightly; the end is indeed come.\"\n\n\"I have no news, my lord; but I expected this.\"\n\n\"Yes, he is dead; he would drag his crazy limbs after us in our last\nstruggle with the Normans; he said the gods would protect him, for he\nhad a charmed life, and that they would fight for us and give us the\nvictory; but we were outnumbered, my followers were all slain to a man;\nbut the Normans were also, for I cut down the last of them. Olaf, our\nold priest, was also hacked to death by the enemy.\"\n\n\"He was the last priest of the old heathen line, and he will have no\nsuccessor. The old heathenism is gone for ever, my lord.\"\n\nSigurd groaned deeply, and called in frantic tones upon the spirits of\nValhalla. \"Odin! Norseman's god! Can't ye help us in this pinch? can't\nye help us, I say?\" Then with a deep groan he sank back in complete\nexhaustion.\n\n\"Calm yourself, my lord, or I must leave you,\" said Ethel. \"But Sigurd\nheard her not, his eyes were closed and he was evidently spent. With a\nfeverish start, however, he opened his eyes again, and sought eagerly\nfor the loved form of Ethel.\n\n\"Ah, I thought ye had left me. The end has come, Ethel; I shall not get\nwell again, but I have one request; let me be buried near the _sea_, for\nI know the Vikings will come again, and I'll hear their shouts of\nvictory and the shock of their onslaught; and, Ethel, let me be _mound\nlaid_, mound laid, mark me, Ethel! then they'll know 'tis a Viking\nchief's grave, and the Skalds will sing of my exploits. Ethel, have my\nsword also laid under my head, ready, my trusty sword 'Tyrfing,'\n(foe-hater), we must not be parted. It's very dark, Ethel.\" Slowly his\neyes closed, and for a little while he lay quiet; then he started up and\nshouted. \"Down with the Normans! Ho, men! carry me out of the cave; I\ncannot breathe here.\" After this fashion for a little while the fitful\nstruggle continued, and then in quietness the contest ended; and the\nlast of the Vikings closed his eyes with the loved form of Ethel bending\nover him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLV.\n\nSUNSHINE HAS ITS SHADOWS.\n\n    \"Man's love is of a man's life a thing apart,\n    'Tis woman's whole existence.\"\n\n    Byron.\n\n\nWe must now make an end for the present of our extracts from these\nsomewhat interesting chronicles. Sigurd, when we last saw him, was lying\nin the arms of death, overborne by many wounds and hard circumstances.\nHe closed life's fitful career, clasping tightly the hand of Ethel; and\nhis great wish anent his burial was conscientiously carried out by her.\nSaxon hands bore him by stealthy night-marches to a silent spot where\nthe fierce North Sea waves break upon the lonely Fen-country shore. They\ndug for him a grave overlooking a wind-sheltered bay, where ofttimes the\nViking rovers had anchored their vessels of war, and from thence burst\nlike an avalanche over the country, sweeping it bare of its cattle and\nits treasures. They dug deep his grave and laid his trusty sword beneath\nhis head; and Ethel was there--a sincere mourner at his burial. Then\nthey heaped the mound high, as Vikings were wont to bury their chiefs,\nand as Sigurd wished it. Now, silently he awaits the great awakening,\nand not without hope; for, according to his light, he had a great ideal,\nand with rare courage, unselfishness, and devotion he struggled to\naccomplish what was beyond him, and that which the march of the ages had\ndecreed should come to an end, but which should never be forgotten so\nlong as men long to know what races were the important factors in the\nhistory-making peoples of the world.\n\nIt is scarcely necessary to say that Oswald's being received into favour\nby the king, had a most beneficial effect upon the Saxon portion of the\npopulation; and it did much to mitigate the rigours of that race\nascendency which the Normans strove to maintain. Our part of the country\nbegan gradually to assume the wonted appearance of cultivation it had\nworn prior to the troublous times of the Conquest. The lazy and\noverbearing manners of the conquerors received a salutary check, and\nNorman men-at-arms gradually settled down to peaceful occupations.\nWulfhere, the stalwart freeman, resumed possession of his ancient\npatrimony, and in company of his charming little wife, Jeannette, was\nmore than content. Soon there began to play about his doors stout-limbed\nyoungsters, who, for enterprise and daring, bid fair to contribute\nvigorously to the perpetuation of the stalwart race of _freemen_, which\nhad been such an important factor in English history for many\ngenerations prior to the Norman Conquest.\n\nThe only other incident we need mention happened many years after the\nevents recorded in these pages.\n\nOne bright autumnal day, several of the children of Oswald were at play\nin the woods near the castle, alternating their play by gathering the\nwalnuts and chestnuts which had fallen from the trees, or pelting the\nsquirrels as they leaped from tree to tree overhead, happy as only\nchildren can be, when surrounded by bounteous and beautiful nature.\nSuddenly there emerged from the thicket a woman, in the habiliments worn\nby those who had renounced the world and devoted their lives to the\nservice of the church. The children were somewhat startled at the advent\nof this strange figure; but her sweet face and winning smile completely\nreassured them. She went up to the eldest boy and asked him his name.\n\"Oswald\" was the reply. Then she took from her neck a beautiful crucifix\nof gold, chastely and tastefully engraved, and to which was attached a\ngold chain. This chain she put around his neck, depositing the crucifix\nin his bosom. Then she removed his cap from his head, displaying a\nprofusion of curly locks, saying as she did so, \"God bless thee, my\nson!\" Next she turned to the other children, inquiring their names, and\nkissing and blessing them also. This done, she turned from them, and\nstood gazing upon the castle in the distance for a minute or two; then,\nas abruptly as she came, she disappeared in the wood, and was seen no\nmore. The children hastened home to show to their parents the beautiful\ncrucifix the stranger woman had given them, and to relate the strange\nincident. Oswald pondered over the matter a long time, but with the\nstrange obtuseness which had marked the whole of his intercourse with\nthe beautiful Saxon, Ethel, he was utterly unable to identify the\nstrange visitant with any one he had known or remembered. A shade of\nsorrow and sadness passed over Alice's face; and a tear trembled on her\neyelid, and fell unobserved to the ground. But she hinted not at the\npersonality of the stranger, though she understood the sad mystery, and\ncomprehended the tragedy which had been slowly and painfully enacted\nthrough the years, in which a noble and virtuous woman's love had been\ncrucified.\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\nBRAILSFORD:\n\nA Tale of West Riding Life.\n\nBY JOHN BOWLING.\n\n\n\"'Brailsford' is a capital book, and, to those who can master the\nYorkshire dialect, it will give a great deal of pleasure. The excellent\nteaching it contains makes it a most suitable book for a Sunday School\nLibrary. If it once gets into a library, I feel sure it will be in great\ndemand. It is a thorough boy's book, and I wish every boy could read\nit.\"--_Rev. Charles Garrett._\n\n\"Brailsford: a Tale of West Riding Life.\"--\"This story ... is written in\na wholesome moral tone, and strikingly portrays the temptations which\nassail young men in the business life of a large town. The hero of the\nstory is a draper's apprentice, who, by steadfast fidelity to duty,\nrises to success; and the incidents are related with vigour, introducing\nthe reader to some curious phases of town life ... the book may be\nsafely placed in the hands of youths about to enter the commercial\nworld.\"--_Leeds Mercury._\n\n\"There is about this book a simplicity which charms, and an interest\nthat will carry the reader through every page. As pointing a moral, and\naffording a stimulus to honest work, despite adverse circumstances, the\nlittle volume will be of great value, and we trust it will have a wide\nsale.\"--_Wharfedale and Airedale Observer._\n\n\"Our readers will recognise this as a reprint of a story which appeared\nin serial form in the _Wesleyan Methodist Magazine_. At the time of its\noriginal appearance we noticed it from time to time. In its new and more\nconvenient form it will greatly delight all lovers of the racy Yorkshire\ndialect, and will at the same time prove instructive. It is a story of\nthe good and idle apprentice type, well told and satisfactorily ended.\nThe moral, of course, is unexceptional.... We heartily commend this\nventure.\"--_Methodist Recorder._\n\n\"'Brailsford,' by John Bowling, is a tale of West Riding life, written\nwith animation and a keenly observant eye to various phases of character\nthat manifest themselves in rural districts. There is much humorous\ndialogue in the book, bringing out several traits of Yorkshire life\nexcellently. There are, moreover, pathetic passages in this story, and\nthe author does not fail to inculcate some useful and noble\nlessons.\"--_Methodist Times._\n\n\"... A most thrilling story.... We have the utmost pleasure in\nrecommending the book to our readers as one well worthy of a place in\nevery home.... The lessons which it sets forth are bound to make a deep\nimpression on every reader. We therefore earnestly wish the author every\nsuccess.\"--_Hunslet News._\n\n\n\n***","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":"\n\n\n\nProduced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Stephanie Eason,\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp:\/\/www.pgdp.net.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTYPOGRAPHIC TECHNICAL SERIES FOR APPRENTICES--PART VI, NO. 36\n\n\n  COMPOUND WORDS\n\n  A STUDY OF THE PRINCIPLES\n  OF COMPOUNDING, THE COMPONENTS\n  OF COMPOUNDS, AND THE\n  USE OF THE HYPHEN\n\n  BY\n  FREDERICK W. HAMILTON, LL. D.\n\n  EDUCATIONAL DIRECTOR\n  UNITED TYPOTHETAE OF AMERICA.\n\n  PUBLISHED BY THE COMMITTEE ON EDUCATION\n  UNITED TYPOTHETAE OF AMERICA\n  1918\n\n\n\n  COPYRIGHT, 1918\n  UNITED TYPOTHETAE OF AMERICA\n  CHICAGO, ILL.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe subject of compounds is one of the most difficult of the matters\nrelating to correct literary composition. The difficulty arises from the\nfact that usage, especially in the matter of the presence or absence of\nthe hyphen, is not clearly settled. Progressive tendencies are at work\nand there is great difference of usage, even among authorities of the\nfirst rank, with regard to many compounds in common use.\n\nAn attempt is made to show first the general character of the problems\ninvolved. Then follows a discussion of the general principles of\ncompounding. The general rules for the formation of compounds are stated\nand briefly discussed. The various components of compounds are fully\nanalyzed and tabulated. The best modern usage in the matter of the\nemployment of the hyphen is set forth in a series of rules. The whole is\nconcluded by practical advice to the compositor as to the use of the\nrules in the actual work of the office.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n                                    PAGE\n\n  INTRODUCTION                         1\n\n  GENERAL PRINCIPLES                   4\n\n  ACCENT IN COMPOUNDING                5\n\n  THE FORMATION OF COMPOUNDS           6\n\n  COMPONENTS OF COMPOUNDS              7\n\n  RULES FOR THE USE OF THE HYPHEN      9\n\n  SUPPLEMENTARY READING               16\n\n  REVIEW QUESTIONS                    17\n\n\n\n\nCOMPOUND WORDS\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe English language contains a great many words and phrases which are\nmade up of two or more words combined or related in such a way as to\nform a new verbal phrase having a distinct meaning of its own and\ndiffering in meaning from the sum of the component words taken singly.\n_Income_ and _outgo_, for example, have quite definite meanings related,\nit is true, to _come_ and _go_ and to _in_ and _out_, but sharply\ndifferentiated from those words in their ordinary and general\nsignification. We use these compound words and phrases so commonly that\nwe never stop to think how numerous they are, or how frequently new ones\nare coined. Any living language is constantly growing and developing new\nforms. New objects have to be named, new sensations expressed, new\nexperiences described.\n\nSometimes these words are mere aggregations like _automobile_,\n_monotype_, _sidewalk_, _policeman_ and the like. Sometimes, indeed very\noften, they are short cuts. A _hatbox_ is a box for carrying a hat, a\n_red-haired_ man is a man with red hair. A _bookcase_ is a case to\ncontain books, etc.\n\nSometimes the phrase consists of two or more separate words, such as\n_well known_ or _nicely kept_. Sometimes it consists of words joined by\na hyphen, such as _boarding-house_, _sleeping-car_. Sometimes it\nconsists of a single word formed by amalgamating or running together the\ncomponents, such as _penholder_, _nevertheless_.\n\nIn which of these forms shall we write the phrase we speak so easily?\nHow shall we shape the new word we have just coined? Which of these\nthree forms shall we use, and why? Ordinarily we look for the answer to\nsuch questions from three sources, historical development, the past of\nthe language; some logical principle of general application; or some\nrecognized standard of authority. Unfortunately we get little help from\neither of these sources in this special difficulty.\n\nThe history of the language is a history of constant change. The\nAnglo-Saxon tongue was full of compounds, but the hyphen was an unknown\ndevice to those who spoke it. The English of Chaucer, the period when\nour new-born English tongue was differentiated from those which\ncontributed to its composition, is full of compounds, and the compounds\nwere generally written with a hyphen. Shakespeare used many compound\nwords and phrases some of which sound strange, if not uncouth, to modern\nears, but used the hyphen much less than Chaucer. In modern times the\ntendency has been and is to drop the hyphen. The more general\nprogression seems to be (1) two words, (2) two words hyphenated, (3) two\nwords run together into one. Sometimes, however, the hyphen drops,\nleaving two words separated. That there is constant change, and that the\nchange is progressing consistently in the direction of eliminating the\nhyphen is fairly clear. This, however, does not help us much. At what\nstage of the process are we with regard to any given word? Which form of\nthe process is operating in any given case?\n\nThere are no laws or principles of universal application on which we may\nbuild a consistent system of practice. Certain general principles have\nbeen laid down and will be here set forth. While they are helpful to the\nunderstanding of the subject they are not sufficiently universal to\nserve as practical guides in all cases. In any event they need to be\nsupplemented by careful study of the rules for the use of the hyphen, by\ncareful study of the best usage in particular cases, and by thorough\nknowledge of the style of each particular office, as will be pointed out\nlater. Authorities and usage differ widely, and it is often difficult to\nsay that a particular form is right or wrong.\n\nThere is no recognized standard authority. The dictionaries do not agree\nwith each other and are not always consistent with themselves. They may\nalways write a certain word in a certain way but they may write another\nword to all appearance exactly analogous to the first in another way.\nFor example Worcester has _brickwork_ and _brasswork_, but _wood-work_\nand _iron-work_. Webster, on the other hand, has _woodwork_ and\n_brick-work_.\n\nThe best that the printer can do is to adopt a set of rules or style of\nhis own and stick to it consistently. Here and there a generally\naccepted change, like the dropping of the hyphen from _tomorrow_ and\n_today_ will force itself upon him, but for the most part he may stick\nto his style. Of course, the author, if he has a marked preference, must\nbe permitted to use his own methods of compounding except in magazine\npublications and the like. In such cases, when the author's work is to\nappear in the same volume with that of other writers, the style of the\nprinting office must rule and the individual contributors must bow to\nit.\n\n\n\n\nGENERAL PRINCIPLES\n\n\nThree general principles are laid down by Mr. F. Horace Teall which will\nbe found useful, though they must be supplemented in practice by more\nspecific rules which will be given later. They are as follows:\n\nI All words should be separate when used in regular grammatical\nrelations and construction unless they are jointly applied in some\narbitrary way.\n\n     An _iron fence_ means a fence made of iron. The meaning and\n     construction are normal and the words are not compounded.\n\n     An _iron-saw_ means a saw for cutting iron. The meaning is not the\n     same as _iron saw_ which would mean a saw made of iron. The\n     hyphenated compound indicates the special meaning of the words used\n     in this combination.\n\n     _Ironwood_ is a specific name applied to a certain kind of very\n     hard wood. Hence, it becomes a single word compounded but without a\n     hyphen. Either of the other forms would be ambiguous or impossible\n     in meaning.\n\nII Abnormal associations of words generally indicate unification in\nsense and hence compounding in form.\n\n     A _sleeping man_ is a phrase in which the words are associated\n     normally. The man sleeps.\n\n     A _sleeping-car_ is a phrase in which the words are associated\n     abnormally. The car does not sleep. It is a specially constructed\n     car in which the passengers may sleep comfortably.\n\n     A _king fisher_ might be a very skilful fisherman. A _kingfisher_\n     is a kind of bird. Here again we have an abnormal association of\n     words and as the compound word is the name of a specific sort of\n     bird there is no hyphen. A _king-fisher_, if it meant anything,\n     would probably mean one who fished for kings, as a _pearl-diver_ is\n     one who dives for pearls.\n\nIII Conversely, no expression in the language should ever be changed\nfrom two or more words into one (either hyphenated or solid) without\nchange of sense.\n\n     _Saw trimmer_ is not compounded because there is no change in the\n     commonly accepted sense of either word.\n\n     _Color work_ is not compounded because the word _color_, by usage\n     common in English, has the force of an adjective, and the words are\n     used in their accepted sense. In other languages it would be\n     differently expressed, for example, in French it would be _oeuvre_,\n     or _imprimerie en couleur_, _work_, or, _printing in color_.\n\n     _Presswork_ is compounded because it has a special and specific\n     meaning. Good or bad presswork is a good or bad result of work done\n     on a press.\n\n     Here as everywhere in printing the great purpose is to secure\n     plainness and intelligibility. Print is made to read. Anything\n     which obscures the sense, or makes the passage hard to read is\n     wrong. Anything which clears up the sense and makes the passage\n     easy to read and capable of only one interpretation is right.\n\n\nINFLUENCE OF ACCENT IN COMPOUNDING\n\nSome writers lay much stress on the influence of accent in the formation\nof compounds while others ignore it entirely. Accent undoubtedly has\nsome influence and the theory may be easily and intelligibly expressed.\nIt ought to be understood, but it will not be found an entirely safe\nguide. Usage has modified the results of compounding in many cases in\nways which do not lend themselves to logical explanation and\nclassification.\n\nThe general principle as stated by Mr. Teall is as follows:\n\n     When each part of the compound is accented, use the hyphen;\n     _laughter-loving_.\n\n     When only one part is accented, omit the hyphen; _many sided_.\n\n     When the accent is changed, print the compound solid; _broadsword_.\n     This follows the general rule of accenting the first syllable in\n     English words.\n\n\nRULES FOR THE FORMATION OF COMPOUNDS\n\nI Two nouns used together as a name form a compound noun unless:\n\n     (_a_) The first is used in a descriptive or attributive sense, that\n           is, is really an adjective, or\n\n     (_b_) The two are in apposition.\n\nVarious uses of the noun as an adjective, that is, in some qualifying or\nattributive sense are when the noun conveys the sense of:\n\n     1. \"Made of;\" _leather belt_, _steel furniture_.\n\n     2. \"Having the shape, character, or quality of;\" _diamond pane_,\n        _iron ration_, _bull calf_.\n\n     3. \"Pertaining to, suitable for, representing;\" _office desk_,\n        _labor union_.\n\n     4. \"Characterized by;\" _motor drive_.\n\n     5. \"Situated in, and the like;\" _ocean current_, _city life_.\n\n     6. \"Supporting or advocating;\" _union man_, _Bryan voter_.\n\n     7. \"Existing in or coming from;\" _Yellowstone geyser_, _California\n        lemon_.\n\n     8. \"Originated or made by, named for;\" _Gordon Press_, _Harvard\n        College_.\n\n     Placing the two nouns in apposition is much the same as using the\n     first as an adjective.\n\n     Such compounds are generally written as two words without the\n     hyphen, but see specific rules for use of hyphens.\n\nII Every name apparently composed of a plain noun and a noun of agent or\nverbal noun, but really conveying the sense of a phrase with suffix\n_er_, _or_, or _ing_, should be treated as a compound; _roller\ndistribution_.\n\nIII Possessive phrases used as specific names (generally plants) are\ntreated as compounds.\n\n     They are hyphenated unless very common, in which case they are\n     closed up; _crane's-bill_, _ratsbane_.\n\nIV Any phrase used as a specific name in an arbitrary application not\nstrictly figurative is written as a compound; _blueberry_, _red-coat_,\n_forget-me-not_.\n\nV Any pair of words used as one name of which the second is a noun but\nthe first not really an adjective should be written as a compound;\n_foster-brother_, _down-town_, _after-consideration_.\n\n     As elsewhere the use of the hyphen depends largely in the\n     familiarity of the phrase; _spoilsport_, _pickpocket_.\n\nVI Any two words other than nouns should be treated as a compound,\ngenerally solid, when arbitrarily associated as a name; _standpoint_,\n_outlook_.\n\nVII A name or an adjective made by adding a suffix to a proper name\ncompounded of two words should be treated as a compound with a hyphen;\n_East-Indian_, _New-Yorker_. If the name is not inflected this rule does\nnot apply; _East India Company_, _New York man_.\n\nVIII Any pair or series of words arbitrarily associated in a joint sense\ndifferent from their sense when used separately, should be compounded;\n_workman-like_, _warlike_.\n\n\nCOMPONENTS OF COMPOUNDS\n\nCompounds having the force of nouns may be made up in several ways.\n\n     1. Two nouns used in other than their natural signification;\n        _claw-hammer_.\n\n     2. A noun and an adjective used in other than their natural\n        signification; _great-uncle_, _dry-goods_.\n\n     3. A noun and an adverb; _touch-down_, _holder-forth_.\n\n     4. A noun and an adverb; _down-draft_, _flare-back_.\n\n     5. A noun and a verb; _know-nothing_, _draw-bar_.\n\n     6. A noun and a preposition; _between-decks_.\n\n     7. Two adjectives; _high-low_, _wide-awake_.\n\n     8. Two verbs; _make-believe_.\n\n     9. A verb and an adverb; _cut-off_, _break-up_.\n\n     10. A verb and a preposition; _to-do_, _go-between_.\n\nCompounds having the force of adjectives may be made up in several ways.\n\n     1. A group of words compacted into one idea;\n        _never-to-be-forgotten_.\n\n     2. Two adjectives; _white-hot_, _ashy-blue_.\n\n     3. An adjective and a participle or noun and suffix simulating a\n        participle; _odd-looking_, _foreign-born_, _bow-legged_.\n\n     4. An adjective and a noun; _fire-new_, _type-high_.\n\n     5. A noun and a participle (or noun and suffix simulating a\n        participle); _hand-printed_, _peace-making_.\n\n     6. An adverb and an adjective used together before a noun;\n        _well-bred_, _long-extended_.\n\n     7. Two nouns used adjectively before another noun; _cotton-seed\n        oil_, _shoe-sewing machine_, _Sunday-school teacher_.\n\n     8. An adjective and a noun used together before a noun;\n        _civil-service examination_, _free-trade literature_, _fresh-water\n        sailor_.\n\n     9. A verb and a noun; _John Lack-land_.\n\nFour compounds occur with the force of verbs.\n\n     1. Two verbs; _balance-reef_.\n\n     2. A verb and a noun; _silver-plate_, _house-break_.\n\n     3. A verb and an adjective; _cold-press_, _fine-still_.\n\n     4. A verb and an adverb; _cross-examine_.\n\nSeveral combinations are used with the force of adverbs.\n\n     1. Two adverbs; _upright_, _henceforth_.\n\n     2. A noun and an adverb; _brain-sickly_.\n\n     3. An adjective and an adverb (or compound adjective with suffix,\n        simulating an adverb); _stout-heartedly_, _ill-naturedly_.\n\n     4. An adjective and a verb; _broadcast_.\n\n     5. Two nouns; _piecemeal_, _half-mast_.\n\n     6. A noun and an adjective; _cost-free_, _pointblank_.\n\n     7. A noun and a preposition; _down-stairs_, _above-board_,\n       _offhand_.\n\n\nRULES FOR THE USE OF THE HYPHEN\n\n1. Hyphenate nouns formed by the combination of two nouns standing in\nobjective relation to each other, that is, one of whose components is\nderived from a transitive verb:\n\n     _well-wisher_             _wood-turning_\n     _mind-reader_             _child-study_\n     _office-holder_           _clay-modeling_\n\nWhen such compounds are in very common use, and especially when they\nhave a specific or technical meaning, they are printed solid;\n\n     _typewriter_              _stockholder_\n     _proofreader_             _copyholder_\n     _lawgiver_                _dressmaker_\n\n2. Hyphenate a combination of a present participle with a noun when the\nmeaning of the combination is different from that of the two words taken\nseparately; _boarding-house_, _sleeping-car_, _walking-stick_.\n\n3. Hyphenate a combination of a present participle with a preposition\nused absolutely (not governing the following noun); _the putting-in or\ntaking-out of a hyphen_.\n\n4. As a rule compounds of _book_, _house_, _will_, _room_, _shop_, and\n_work_ should be printed solid when the prefixed noun has one syllable;\nshould be hyphenated when it contains two; should be printed in two\nseparate words when it contains three or more;\n\n     _handbook_, _notebook_, _story-book_, _pocket-book_, _reference\n     book_.\n\n     _clubhouse_, _storehouse_, _engine-house_, _power-house_,\n     _business-house_.\n\n     _handmill_, _sawmill_, _water-mill_, _paper-mill_, _chocolate\n     mill_.\n\n     _classroom_, _lecture-room_, _recitation room_.\n\n     _tinshop_, _tailor-shop_, _carpenter shop_.\n\n     _woodwork_, _metal-work_, _filigree work_.\n\nUnusual combinations such as _source-book_ and _wheat-mill_ are\nsometimes hyphenated, and the hyphen is sometimes omitted for the sake\nof the appearance as in _school work_.\n\n5. Compounds of _maker_, _dealer_, and other words denoting occupation\nare generally hyphenated; _harness-maker_, _job-printer_.\n\nThe tendency is to print these words solid when they come into very\ncommon use; _dressmaker_.\n\n6. Hyphenate nouns when combined in an adjectival sense before the name\nof the same person; _the martyr-president Lincoln_, _the poet-artist\nRosetti._\n\n7. Compounds of _store_ are generally hyphenated when the prefix\ncontains one syllable, otherwise not; _drug-store_, _fruit-store_ (but\n_bookstore_), _provision store_.\n\n8. Compounds of _fellow_ are hyphenated; _fellow-being_, _play-fellow_,\nbut _bedfellow_.\n\n9. Compounds of _father_, _mother_, _brother_, _sister_, _daughter_,\n_parent_, and _foster_ should be hyphenated when the word in question\nforms the first part of the compound; _father-love_, _mother-country_,\n_brother-officer_, _sister-state_, _daughter-cell_, _parent-word_,\n_foster-brother_, but (by exception) _fatherland_.\n\n10. Hyphenate compounds of _great_ in phrases indicating degrees of\ndescent; _great-grandmother_, _great-great-grandfather_.\n\n11. Hyphenate compounds of _life_ and _world_; _life-history_,\n_world-influence_, but (by exception) _lifetime_.\n\n12. Compounds of _skin_ with words of one syllable are printed solid,\notherwise as two separate words; _calfskin_, _sheepskin_, _alligator\nskin_.\n\n13. Hyphenate compounds of _master_; _master-builder_, _master-stroke_,\nbut (by exception) _masterpiece_.\n\n14. Hyphenate compounds of _god_ when this word forms the second\nelement; _sun-god_, _war-god_, _godsend_, _godson_.\n\n15. Hyphenate compounds of _half_ and _quarter_; _half-truth_,\n_quarter-circle_, _half-title_, but on account of difference in meaning\nof _quarter_, _quartermaster_, _headquarters_.\n\n16. These prefixes\n\n     _ante_-     _infra_-     _re_-\n     _anti_-     _inter_-     _semi_-\n     _bi_-       _intra_-     _sub_-\n     _co_-       _pre_-       _super_-\n     _demi_-     _post_-      _tri_-\n\nare ordinarily joined to the word with which they are used without a\nhyphen, except when followed by the same letter as that with which they\nterminate or by _w_ or _y_;\n\n     _antechamber_             _post-temporal_\n     _antiseptic_              _post-graduate_\n     _anti-imperialistic_      _prearrange_\n     _biennial_                _pre-empt_\n     _bipartisan_              _recast_\n     _co-equal_                _re-enter_\n     _co-ordinate_             _semiannual_\n     _demigod_                 _subconscious_\n     _inframarginal_           _subtitle_\n     _international_           _superfine_\n     _intersperse_             _tricolor_\n     _intramural_              _co-workers_\n     _intra-atomic_            _co-yield_\n\nExceptions are\n\n(_a_) Combinations with proper names or adjectives derived therefrom,\nand long or unusual compounds;\n\n     _ante-bellum_             _sister-university_\n     _anti-license_            _post-revolutionary_\n     _anti-security_           _pre-Raphaelite_\n     _demi-relievo_            _re-tammanize_\n\n(_b_) Words in which the omission of the hyphen would alter the sense;\n\n     _re-formation_            _reformation_\n     _re-cover_                _recover_\n     _re-creation_             _recreation_\n\n17. The negative prefixes _un_, _in_, _il_, _im_, and _a_ do not take a\nhyphen except in very rare or artificial combinations; _unmanly_,\n_invisible_, _illimitable_, _impenetrable_, _asymmetrical_.\n\nThe negative prefix _non_ calls for a hyphen except in very common\nwords;\n\n     _non-existent_            _non-combatant_\n     _non-interference_        _nonsense_\n     _non-unionist_            _nonessential_\n\n18. The prefixes _quasi_, _extra_, _supra_, _ultra_, and _pan_ call for\na hyphen;\n\n     _quasi-historical_        _supra-normal_\n     _quasi-corporation_       _ultra-conservative_\n     _extra-mural_             _Pan-Germanism_\n\n     _Ultramontaine_, probably because a specific party designation, is\n     always printed solid.\n\n19. _Over_ and _under_ do not ordinarily call for a hyphen;\n_overemphasize_, _underfed_, but _over-careful_, _over-spiritualistic_.\n\n20. Combinations having _self_ and _by_ as the first element of the\ncompound call for a hyphen; _self-evident_, _self-respecting_, _by-law_,\n_by-product_, but _selfhood_, _selfish_, and _selfsame_.\n\n21. Combinations of _fold_ are printed as one word if the number\ncontains only one syllable but as two if it contains more than one;\n\n     _twofold_                 _fifteen fold_\n     _tenfold_                 _a hundred fold_\n\n22. Adjectives formed by a noun preceding _like_ do not take a hyphen if\nthe noun is a monosyllable, except when ending in _l_ or a proper noun;\nif the noun contains more than one syllable a hyphen should be used;\n_childlike_, _warlike_, _catlike_, _bell-like_, _Napoleon-like_, but (by\nexception) _Christlike_.\n\n23. _Vice_, _elect_, _ex_, _general_, and _lieutenant_ as parts of\ntitles are connected with the chief noun by a hyphen; _vice-consul_,\n_ex-president_, _governor-elect_, _postmaster-general_,\n_lieutenant-colonel_.\n\n24. _Today_, _tonight_, and _tomorrow_ are printed without a hyphen.\n\n25. In fractional numbers spelled out connect the numerator and\ndenominator by a hyphen. \"_The day is three-quarters gone_,\" _four and\nfive-eighths_, _thirty-hundredths_, _ninety-two thousandths_.\n\nDo not use the hyphen in an instance as \"_One half the business is owned\nby Mr. Jones, one quarter by Mr. Smith, and one eighth each by Mr.\nBrowne and Mr. Robinson._\"\n\n26. Where two or more compound words occur together having one of their\ncomponents in common, this component is often omitted from all but the\nlast word and the omission indicated by a hyphen;\n\n     _French-and Spanish-speaking countries_, _wood-iron-and\n     steel-work_, _one-two-three-four and five-cent stamps_.\n\n     This usage is objected to in some offices as being a Germanized\n     form. It is however, less ambiguous than where the hyphen is\n     omitted and is therefore preferable.\n\n27. Ordinal numbers compounded with nouns take the hyphen in such\nexpressions as _second-hand_, _first-rate_, and the like.\n\n28. Numerals of one syllable take a hyphen in compounds with\nself-explanatory words such as _four-footed_, _one-eyed_, and the like.\n\n29. Numerals compounded with nouns to form an adjective take the hyphen;\n_twelve-inch rule_, _three-horse team_, _six-point lead_.\n\n30. The hyphen is used in compounding a noun in the possessive case with\nanother noun; _jew's-harp_, _crow's-nest_.\n\n31. The hyphen is used with most compounds of _tree_; _apple-tree_,\n_quince-tree_, but not when a particular object, not a tree (vegetable),\nis meant; _whippletree_, _crosstree_.\n\n32. Use the hyphen in compounding two adjectives generally, especially\npersonal epithets; _asked-for opinion_, _sea-island cotton_, _dry-plate\nprocess_, _hard-headed_, _strong-armed_, _broad-shouldered_.\n\n33. The hyphen is not used in points of the compass unless doubly\ncompounded; _northeast_, _southwest_, _north-northeast_,\n_south-southwest by south_.\n\n34. Compounds ending with _man_ or _woman_ are run solid; _pressman_,\n_forewoman_.\n\n35. Omit the hyphen in such phrases as _by and by_, _by the bye_, _good\nmorning_ (except when used adjectively, _a good-morning greeting_,)\n_attorney at law_, _coat of arms_.\n\n36. Compounds ending in _holder_ and _monger_ are run solid;\n_bondholder_, _cheesemonger_.\n\n37. Compounds beginning with _eye_ are run solid; _eyeglass_,\n_eyewitness_.\n\n38. Compounds unless very unusual, beginning with _deutero_, _electro_,\n_pseudo_, _sulpho_, _thermo_, etc., are run solid; _electrotype_,\n_pseudonym_, _thermostat_.\n\n39. Do not separate\n\n     _meanwhile_     _anywhere_       _somebody_\n     _meantime_      _anybody_        _somehow_\n     _moreover_      _anyhow_         _something_\n     _forever_       _anything_       _sometime_\n     _everywhere_    _anyway_         _somewhat_\n                     _somewhere_\n\nIn phrases like _in the meantime_ and _forever and ever_ the words are\nprinted separately.\n\n_Any one_ and _some one_ are separate words.\n\n40. In compounds of color the hyphen is not used except when a noun is\nused with an adjective to specify color; _reddish-brown_, _gray-white_,\n_lemon-yellow_, _olive-green_, _silver-gray_.\n\n41. Following is a list of words of everyday occurrence which should be\nhyphenated, and which do not fall under any of the above\nclassifications.\n\n     _after-years_       _food-stuff_     _sea-level_\n     _bas-relief_        _guinea-pig_     _sense-perception_\n     _birth-rate_        _horse-power_    _son-in-law_\n     _blood-relations_   _loan-word_      _subject-matter_\n     _common-sense_      _man-of-war_     _thought-process_\n     _cross-examine_     _object-lesson_  _title-page_\n     _cross-reference_   _page-proof_     _wave-length_\n     _cross-section_     _pay-roll_       _well-being_\n     _death-rate_        _poor-law_       _well-nigh_\n     _folk-song_         _post-office_    _will-power_\n     _fountain-head_\n\nThese rules are the consensus of opinion of a considerable number of\ngood authorities from DeVinne (1901) to Manly and Powell (1913). The\ngreat practical difficulty is that authorities differ as to their\napplication. DeVinne uses the dieresis instead of the hyphen in such\ncases as _co-operate_ or _pre-eminent_, writing _cooeperate_,\n_preeminent_. Many of the rules have exceptions and authorities differ\nas to the extent of the exceptions. There are many differences in the\ngreat number of unclassified compounds. For example, Manly and Powell\nwrite _coat-of-arms_, while Orcutt writes _coat of arms_. Common usage\nomits the hyphen from post office except when used as an adjective, e. g.,\n_post-office accounts_.\n\nA strict adherence to the rules given would probably result, not in bad\ncomposition, but in a much greater use of hyphens than would be found on\nthe pages of many recent books from the presses of some of the best\npublishers. This is due partly to the fact that usage has never been\nstrictly uniform and partly to the constant progressive change noted at\nthe beginning of this study. We are gradually discontinuing the use of\nthe hyphen just as we are diminishing our use of capital letters,\npunctuation marks, and italics.\n\nThe compositor should ground himself thoroughly in the principles and\nrules. He should learn the best usage with regard to special words and\nphrases. He should master the office style. He should follow copy if the\nauthor has distinct and definite ideas which are not absolutely wrong\nand would not introduce inconsistencies in magazines and the like by\nviolating the office style which is followed in other parts of the same\npublication. If it is clear that the author knows what he wants, the\ncompositor should follow copy. Questions of correctness and conformity\nto style belong not to him but to the copy editor and proofreader.\n\n\n\n\nSUPPLEMENTARY READING\n\n\nEnglish Compound Words and Phrases. By Francis Horace Teall. Funk &\n     Wagnalls, New York.\n\nThe Compounding of English Words, When and Why Joining or Separation\n     is Preferable. By Francis Horace Teall. J. Ireland, New York.\n\nCorrect Composition. By Theodore L. De Vinne. The Oswald Publishing Co.,\n     New York.\n\nA Manual for Writers. By John Matthews Manly and John Arthur Powell.\n     The University of Chicago Press, Chicago.\n\nThe Writer's Desk Book. By William Dana Orcutt. Frederick A. Stokes Co.,\n     New York.\n\n\n\n\nQUESTIONS\n\n\n1. What is meant by a \"compound\"?\n\n2. What is the purpose of a compound?\n\n3. In what three forms do compounds appear?\n\n4. Where should we expect to find guidance in the choice of these forms?\n\n5. Do we so find it, and why?\n\n6. What tendency is observable in usage regarding compounds?\n\n7. What can the printer do?\n\n8. Give Teall's rules, and show the application of each.\n\n9. What is the influence of accent in compounding?\n\n10. What is the rule about two nouns used together to form a name?\n\n11. What is the rule about names composed of a plain noun and a verbal\nnoun?\n\n12. How are possessive phrases used as specific names treated?\n\n13. What is the rule about phrases used as specific names?\n\n14. How do you write a pair of words used as a name when the second word\nis a noun and the first not really an adjective?\n\n15. How do you treat two words, not nouns, arbitrarily used as a name?\n\n16. How do you treat a compound consisting of a suffix and a compound\nproper name?\n\n17. How do you treat words so associated that their joint sense is\ndifferent from their separate sense?\n\n18. How may compounds having the force of nouns be made up?\n\n19. How may compounds having the force of adjectives be made up?\n\n20. How may compounds having the force of verbs be made up?\n\n21. How may compounds having the force of adverbs be made up?\n\n22. How are compound nouns written when one of the components is derived\nfrom a transitive verb?\n\n23. How is a compound of a present participle and a noun written?\n\n24. How is a compound of a present participle and a preposition treated?\n\n25. What is the usage in compounds of _book_, _house_, _will_, _room_,\n_shop_, and _work_?\n\n26. How are compounds of _maker_ and _dealer_ written?\n\n27. What is done when nouns are combined in a descriptive phrase before\na name of a person?\n\n28. How are compounds of _store_ treated?\n\n29. How are compounds of _fellow_ treated?\n\n30. How are compounds of _father_, _mother_, _brother_, _sister_,\n_daughter_, _parent_, and _foster_ treated?\n\n31. What compounds of _great_ are hyphenated?\n\n32. How are compounds of _life_ and _world_ treated?\n\n33. What is the rule about compounds of _skin_?\n\n34. How are compounds of _master_ treated?\n\n35. What is the rule about compounds of _god_?\n\n36. Give fifteen common prefixes and tell how they are used, stating\nexceptions.\n\n37. What are the negative prefixes and how are they used?\n\n38. What is the rule about the prefixes _quasi_, _extra_, _supra_,\n_ultra_, and _pan_?\n\n39. What is the rule about _over_ and _under_?\n\n40. What is the rule about compounds of _self_ and _by_?\n\n41. How are compounds of _fold_ treated?\n\n42. What is the rule about compounds of a noun followed by _like_?\n\n43. How are titles treated when compounded with _vice_, _elect_, _ex_,\n_general_, and _lieutenant_?\n\n44. How do you write three familiar compounds denoting time?\n\n45. How should you treat fractional numbers spelled out?\n\n46. What is done when two or more compound words with a common component\noccur in succession?\n\n47. How do you write compounds of ordinal numbers and nouns?\n\n48. What rule is given about numerals of one syllable?\n\n49. What rule is given about numerals compounded with nouns?\n\n50. How do you treat a compound of two nouns one in the possessive case?\n\n51. How are compounds of _tree_ treated?\n\n52. What is the rule about compounds of two adjectives?\n\n53. What is the rule about points of the compass?\n\n54. What should you do with compounds ending in _man_ or _woman_?\n\n55. Give certain common typical phrases which omit the hyphen.\n\n56. How do you treat compounds ending in _holder_ and _monger_?\n\n57. How do you treat compounds beginning with _eye_?\n\n58. What is said of compounds beginning with _deutero_, _electro_,\n_pseudo_, _sulpho_, _thermo_, and the like?\n\n59. Give some common compounds which are always run solid.\n\n60. How are compounds of color treated?\n\n61. Are these rules universally followed?\n\n62. What is the duty of the compositor in these cases, especially when\ndoubtful?\n\nIn this volume, as in so many in this section, much depends upon\npractice drills. The memorizing of rules is difficult and is of very\nlittle use unless accompanied by a great deal of practice so that the\napprentice will become so thoroughly familiar with them that he will\napply them at once without conscious thought. He should no more think of\nthe rule when he writes _fellow-man_, than he thinks of the\nmultiplication table when he says seven times eight are fifty-six. This\ndrill may be given in several ways, by asking the student to explain the\nuse or omission of hyphens in printed matter, by giving written matter\npurposely incorrect in parts and asking him to set it correctly, or by\ngiving dictations and having the apprentice write out the matter and\nthen set it up. Later, when it will not be too wasteful of time, the\napprentice can be given the ordinary run of copy as customers send it in\nand told to set it in correct form. He will probably find enough errors\nin it to test his knowledge of compounding and of many other things.\n\n\n\n\nTYPOGRAPHIC TECHNICAL SERIES FOR APPRENTICES\n\n\nThe following list of publications, comprising the TYPOGRAPHIC TECHNICAL\nSERIES FOR APPRENTICES, has been prepared under the supervision of the\nCommittee on Education of the United Typothetae of America for use in\ntrade classes, in course of printing instruction, and by individuals.\n\nEach publication has been compiled by a competent author or group of\nauthors, and carefully edited, the purpose being to provide the printers\nof the United States--employers, journeymen, and apprentices--with a\ncomprehensive series of handy and inexpensive compendiums of reliable,\nup-to-date information upon the various branches and specialties of the\nprinting craft, all arranged in orderly fashion for progressive study.\n\nThe publications of the series are of uniform size, 5 x 8 inches. Their\ngeneral make-up, in typography, illustrations, etc., has been, as far as\npracticable, kept in harmony throughout. A brief synopsis of the\nparticular contents and other chief features of each volume will be\nfound under each title in the following list.\n\nEach topic is treated in a concise manner, the aim being to embody in\neach publication as completely as possible all the rudimentary\ninformation and essential facts necessary to an understanding of the\nsubject. Care has been taken to make all statements accurate and clear,\nwith the purpose of bringing essential information within the\nunderstanding of beginners in the different fields of study. Wherever\npracticable, simple and well-defined drawings and illustrations have\nbeen used to assist in giving additional clearness to the text.\n\nIn order that the pamphlets may be of the greatest possible help for use\nin trade-school classes and for self-instruction, each title is\naccompanied by a list of Review Questions covering essential items of\nthe subject matter. A short Glossary of technical terms belonging to the\nsubject or department treated is also added to many of the books.\n\nThese are the Official Text-books of the United Typothetae of America.\n\nAddress all orders and inquiries to COMMITTEE ON EDUCATION, UNITED\nTYPOTHETAE OF AMERICA, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, U. S. A.\n\n\nPART I--_Types, Tools, Machines, and Materials_\n\n1. =Type: a Primer of Information=                      By A. A. Stewart\n\n     Relating to the mechanical features of printing types; their sizes,\n     font schemes, etc., with a brief description of their manufacture.\n     44 pp.; illustrated; 74 review questions; glossary.\n\n2. =Compositors' Tools and Materials=                   By A. A. Stewart\n\n     A primer of information about composing sticks, galleys, leads,\n     brass rules, cutting and mitering machines, etc. 47 pp.;\n     illustrated; 50 review questions; glossary.\n\n3. =Type Cases, Composing Room Furniture=               By A. A. Stewart\n\n     A primer of information about type cases, work stands, cabinets,\n     case racks, galley racks, standing galleys, etc. 43 pp.;\n     illustrated; 33 review questions; glossary.\n\n4. =Imposing Tables and Lock-up Appliances=             By A. A. Stewart\n\n     Describing the tools and materials used in locking up forms for the\n     press, including some modern utilities for special purposes. 59\n     pp.; illustrated; 70 review questions; glossary.\n\n5. =Proof Presses=                                      By A. A. Stewart\n\n     A primer of information about the customary methods and machines\n     for taking printers' proofs. 40 pp.; illustrated; 41 review\n     questions; glossary.\n\n6. =Platen Printing Presses=                             By Daniel Baker\n\n     A primer of information regarding the history and mechanical\n     construction of platen printing presses, from the original hand\n     press to the modern job press, to which is added a chapter on\n     automatic presses of small size. 51 pp.; illustrated; 49 review\n     questions; glossary.\n\n7. =Cylinder Printing Presses=                       By Herbert L. Baker\n\n     Being a study of the mechanism and operation of the principal types\n     of cylinder printing machines. 64 pp.; illustrated; 47 review\n     questions; glossary.\n\n8. =Mechanical Feeders and Folders=               By William E. Spurrier\n\n     The history and operation of modern feeding and folding machines;\n     with hints on their care and adjustments. Illustrated; review\n     questions; glossary.\n\n9. =Power for Machinery in Printing Houses=             By Carl F. Scott\n\n     A treatise on the methods of applying power to printing presses and\n     allied machinery with particular reference to electric drive. 53\n     pp.; illustrated; 69 review questions; glossary.\n\n10. =Paper Cutting Machines=                           By Niel Gray, Jr.\n\n     A primer of information about paper and card trimmers, hand-lever\n     cutters, power cutters, and other automatic machines for cutting\n     paper. 70 pp.; illustrated; 115 review questions; glossary.\n\n11. =Printers' Rollers=                                 By A. A. Stewart\n\n     A primer of information about the composition, manufacture, and\n     care of inking rollers. 46 pp.; illustrated; 61 review questions;\n     glossary.\n\n12. =Printing Inks=                                     By Philip Ruxton\n\n     Their composition, properties and manufacture (reprinted by\n     permission from Circular No. 53, United States Bureau of\n     Standards); together with some helpful suggestions about the\n     everyday use of printing inks by Philip Ruxton. 80 pp.; 100 review\n     questions; glossary.\n\n13. =How Paper is Made=                      By William Bond Wheelwright\n\n     A primer of information about the materials and processes of\n     manufacturing paper for printing and writing. 68 pp.; illustrated;\n     62 review questions; glossary.\n\n14. =Relief Engravings=                             By Joseph P. Donovan\n\n     Brief history and non-technical description of modern methods of\n     engraving; woodcut, zinc plate, halftone; kind of copy for\n     reproduction; things to remember when ordering engravings.\n     Illustrated; review questions; glossary.\n\n15. =Electrotyping and Stereotyping=  By Harris B. Hatch and A. A. Stewart\n\n     A primer of information about the processes of electrotyping and\n     stereotyping. 94 pp.; illustrated; 129 review questions;\n     glossaries.\n\n\nPART II--_Hand and Machine Composition_\n\n16. =Typesetting=                                       By A. A. Stewart\n\n     A handbook for beginners, giving information about justifying,\n     spacing, correcting, and other matters relating to typesetting.\n     Illustrated; review questions; glossary.\n\n17. =Printers' Proofs=                                  By A. A. Stewart\n\n     The methods by which they are made, marked, and corrected, with\n     observations on proofreading. Illustrated; review questions;\n     glossary.\n\n18. =First Steps in Job Composition=                   By Camille DeVeze\n\n     Suggestions for the apprentice compositor in setting his first\n     jobs, especially about the important little things which go to make\n     good display in typography. 63 pp.; examples; 55 review questions;\n     glossary.\n\n19. =General Job Composition=\n\n     How the job compositor handles business stationery, programs and\n     miscellaneous work. Illustrated; review questions; glossary.\n\n20. =Book Composition=                                 By J. W. Bothwell\n\n     Chapters from DeVinne's \"Modern Methods of Book Composition,\"\n     revised and arranged for this series of text-books by J. W.\n     Bothwell of The DeVinne Press, New York. Part I: Composition of\n     pages. Part II: Imposition of pages. 229 pp.; illustrated; 525\n     review questions; glossary.\n\n21. =Tabular Composition=                               By Robert Seaver\n\n     A study of the elementary forms of table composition, with examples\n     of more difficult composition. 36 pp.; examples; 45 review\n     questions.\n\n22. =Applied Arithmetic=                                By E. E. Sheldon\n\n     Elementary arithmetic applied to problems of the printing trade,\n     calculation of materials, paper weights and sizes, with standard\n     tables and rules for computation, each subject amplified with\n     examples and exercises. 159 pp.\n\n23. =Typecasting and Composing Machines=            A. W. Finlay, Editor\n\n    Section I--The Linotype                         By L. A. Hornstein\n    Section II--The Monotype                        By Joseph Hays\n    Section III--The Intertype                      By Henry W. Cozzens\n    Section IV--Other Typecasting and Typesetting\n                Machines                            By Frank H. Smith\n\n     A brief history of typesetting machines, with descriptions of their\n     mechanical principles and operations. Illustrated; review\n     questions; glossary.\n\n\nPART III--_Imposition and Stonework_\n\n24. =Locking Forms for the Job Press=                  By Frank S. Henry\n\n     Things the apprentice should know about locking up small forms, and\n     about general work on the stone. Illustrated; review questions;\n     glossary.\n\n25. =Preparing Forms for the Cylinder Press=           By Frank S. Henry\n\n     Pamphlet and catalog imposition; margins; fold marks, etc. Methods\n     of handling type forms and electrotype forms. Illustrated; review\n     questions; glossary.\n\n\nPART IV--_Presswork_\n\n26. =Making Ready on Platen Presses=                     By T. G. McGrew\n\n     The essential parts of a press and their functions; distinctive\n     features of commonly used machines. Preparing the tympan,\n     regulating the impression, underlaying and overlaying, setting\n     gauges, and other details explained. Illustrated; review questions;\n     glossary.\n\n27. =Cylinder Presswork=                                 By T. G. McGrew\n\n     Preparing the press; adjustment of bed and cylinder, form rollers,\n     ink fountain, grippers and delivery systems. Underlaying and\n     overlaying; modern overlay methods. Illustrated; review questions;\n     glossary.\n\n28. =Pressroom Hints and Helps=                     By Charles L. Dunton\n\n     Describing some practical methods of pressroom work, with\n     directions and useful information relating to a variety of\n     printing-press problems. 87 pp.; 176 review questions.\n\n29. =Reproductive Processes of the Graphic Arts=          By A. W. Elson\n\n     A primer of information about the distinctive features of the\n     relief, the intaglio, and the planographic processes of printing.\n     84 pp.; illustrated; 100 review questions; glossary.\n\n\nPART V--_Pamphlet and Book Binding_\n\n30. =Pamphlet Binding=                            By Bancroft L. Goodwin\n\n     A primer of information about the various operations employed in\n     binding pamphlets and other work in the bindery. Illustrated;\n     review questions; glossary.\n\n31. =Book Binding=                                     By John J. Pleger\n\n     Practical information about the usual operations in binding books;\n     folding; gathering, collating, sewing, forwarding, finishing. Case\n     making and cased-in books. Hand work and machine work. Job and\n     blank-book binding. Illustrated; review questions; glossary.\n\n\nPART VI--_Correct Literary Composition_\n\n32. =Word Study and English Grammar=                   By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A primer of information about words, their relations, and their\n     uses. 68 pp.; 84 review questions; glossary.\n\n33. =Punctuation=                                      By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A primer of information about the marks of punctuation and their\n     use, both grammatically and typographically. 56 pp.; 59 review\n     questions; glossary.\n\n34. =Capitals=                                         By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A primer of information about capitalization, with some practical\n     typographic hints as to the use of capitals. 48 pp.; 92 review\n     questions; glossary.\n\n35. =Division of Words=                                By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     Rules for the division of words at the ends of lines, with remarks\n     on spelling, syllabication and pronunciation. 42 pp.; 70 review\n     questions.\n\n36. =Compound Words=                                   By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A study of the principles of compounding, the components of\n     compounds, and the use of the hyphen. 34 pp.; 62 review questions.\n\n37. =Abbreviations and Signs=                          By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A primer of information about abbreviations and signs, with\n     classified lists of those in most common use. 58 pp.; 32 review\n     questions.\n\n38. =The Uses of Italic=                               By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A primer of information about the history and uses of italic\n     letters. 31 pp.; 37 review questions.\n\n39. =Proofreading=                                     By Arnold Levitas\n\n     The technical phases of the proofreader's work; reading, marking,\n     revising, etc.; methods of handling proofs and copy. Illustrated by\n     examples. 59 pp.; 69 review questions; glossary.\n\n40. =Preparation of Printers' Copy=                    By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     Suggestions for authors, editors, and all who are engaged in\n     preparing copy for the composing room. 36 pp.; 67 review questions.\n\n41. =Printers' Manual of Style=\n\n     A reference compilation of approved rules, usages, and suggestions\n     relating to uniformity in punctuation, capitalization,\n     abbreviations, numerals, and kindred features of composition.\n\n42. =The Printer's Dictionary=                          By A. A. Stewart\n\n     A handbook of definitions and miscellaneous information about\n     various processes of printing, alphabetically arranged. Technical\n     terms explained. Illustrated.\n\n\nPART VII--_Design, Color, and Lettering_\n\n43. =Applied Design for Printers=                       By Harry L. Gage\n\n     A handbook of the principles of arrangement, with brief comment on\n     the periods of design which have most influenced printing. Treats of\n     harmony, balance, proportion, and rhythm; motion; symmetry and\n     variety; ornament, esthetic and symbolic. 37 illustrations; 46\n     review questions; glossary; bibliography.\n\n44. =Elements of Typographic Design=                    By Harry L. Gage\n\n     Applications of the principles of decorative design. Building\n     material of typography: paper, types, ink, decorations and\n     illustrations. Handling of shapes. Design of complete book,\n     treating each part. Design of commercial forms and single units.\n     Illustrations; review questions, glossary; bibliography.\n\n45. =Rudiments of Color in Printing=                    By Harry L. Gage\n\n     Use of color: for decoration of black and white, for broad poster\n     effect, in combinations of two, three, or more printings with\n     process engravings. Scientific nature of color, physical and\n     chemical. Terms in which color may be discussed: hue, value,\n     intensity. Diagrams in color, scales and combinations. Color theory\n     of process engraving. Experiments with color. Illustrations in full\n     color, and on various papers. Review questions; glossary;\n     bibliography.\n\n46. =Lettering in Typography=                           By Harry L. Gage\n\n     Printer's use of lettering: adaptability and decorative effect.\n     Development of historic writing and lettering and its influence on\n     type design. Classification of general forms in lettering.\n     Application of design to lettering. Drawing for reproduction. Fully\n     illustrated; review questions; glossary; bibliography.\n\n47. =Typographic Design in Advertising=                 By Harry L. Gage\n\n     The printer's function in advertising. Precepts upon which\n     advertising is based. Printer's analysis of his copy. Emphasis,\n     legibility, attention, color. Method of studying advertising\n     typography. Illustrations; review questions; glossary;\n     bibliography.\n\n48. =Making Dummies and Layouts=                        By Harry L. Gage\n\n     A layout: the architectural plan. A dummy: the imitation of a\n     proposed final effect. Use of dummy in sales work. Use of layout.\n     Function of layout man. Binding schemes for dummies. Dummy\n     envelopes. Illustrations; review questions; glossary; bibliography.\n\n\nPART VIII--_History of Printing_\n\n49. =Books Before Typography=                          By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A primer of information about the invention of the alphabet and the\n     history of bookmaking up to the invention of movable types. 62 pp.;\n     illustrated; 64 review questions.\n\n50. =The Invention of Typography=                      By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A brief sketch of the invention of printing and how it came about.\n     64 pp.; 62 review questions.\n\n51. =History of Printing=--Part I                      By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A primer of information about the beginnings of printing, the\n     development of the book, the development of printers' materials,\n     and the work of the great pioneers. 63 pp.; 55 review questions.\n\n52. =History of Printing=--Part II                     By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A brief sketch of the economic conditions of the printing industry\n     from 1450 to 1789, including government regulations, censorship,\n     internal conditions and industrial relations. 94 pp.; 128 review\n     questions.\n\n53. =Printing in England=                              By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A short history of printing in England from Caxton to the present\n     time. 89 pp.; 65 review questions.\n\n54. =Printing in America=                              By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A brief sketch of the development of the newspaper, and some notes\n     on publishers who have especially contributed to printing. 98 pp.;\n     84 review questions.\n\n55. =Type and Presses in America=                      By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A brief historical sketch of the development of type casting and\n     press building in the United States. 52 pp.; 61 review questions.\n\n\nPART IX--_Cost Finding and Accounting_\n\n56. =Elements of Cost in Printing=                    By Henry P. Porter\n\n     The Standard Cost-Finding Forms and their uses. What they should\n     show. How to utilize the information they give. Review questions.\n     Glossary.\n\n57. =Use of a Cost System=                            By Henry P. Porter\n\n     The Standard Cost-Finding Forms and their uses. What they should\n     show. How to utilize the information they give. Review questions.\n     Glossary.\n\n58. =The Printer as a Merchant=                       By Henry P. Porter\n\n     The selection and purchase of materials and supplies for printing.\n     The relation of the cost of raw material and the selling price of\n     the finished product. Review questions. Glossary.\n\n59. =Fundamental Principles of Estimating=            By Henry P. Porter\n\n     The estimator and his work; forms to use; general rules for\n     estimating. Review questions. Glossary.\n\n60. =Estimating and Selling=                          By Henry P. Porter\n\n     An insight into the methods used in making estimates, and their\n     relation to selling. Review questions. Glossary.\n\n61. =Accounting for Printers=                         By Henry P. Porter\n\n     A brief outline of an accounting system for printers; necessary\n     books and accessory records. Review questions. Glossary.\n\n\nPART X--_Miscellaneous_\n\n62. =Health, Sanitation, and Safety=                  By Henry P. Porter\n\n     Hygiene in the printing trade; a study of conditions old and new;\n     practical suggestions for improvement; protective appliances and\n     rules for safety.\n\n63. =Topical Index=                                    By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A book of reference covering the topics treated in the Typographic\n     Technical Series, alphabetically arranged.\n\n64. =Courses of Study=                                 By F. W. Hamilton\n\n     A guidebook for teachers, with outlines and suggestions for\n     classroom and shop work.\n\n\n\n\nACKNOWLEDGMENT\n\n\nThis series of Typographic Text-books is the result of the splendid\nco-operation of a large number of firms and individuals engaged in the\nprinting business and its allied industries in the United States of\nAmerica.\n\nThe Committee on Education of the United Typothetae of America, under\nwhose auspices the books have been prepared and published, acknowledges\nits indebtedness for the generous assistance rendered by the many\nauthors, printers, and others identified with this work.\n\nWhile due acknowledgment is made on the title and copyright pages of\nthose contributing to each book, the Committee nevertheless felt that a\ngroup list of co-operating firms would be of interest.\n\nThe following list is not complete, as it includes only those who have\nco-operated in the production of a portion of the volumes, constituting\nthe first printing. As soon as the entire list of books comprising the\nTypographic Technical Series has been completed (which the Committee\nhopes will be at an early date), the full list will be printed in each\nvolume.\n\nThe Committee also desires to acknowledge its indebtedness to the many\nsubscribers to this Series who have patiently awaited its publication.\n\n  COMMITTEE ON EDUCATION,\n  UNITED TYPOTHETAE OF AMERICA.\n\n    HENRY P. PORTER, _Chairman_,\n    E. LAWRENCE FELL,\n    A. M. GLOSSBRENNER,\n    J. CLYDE OSWALD,\n    TOBY RUBOVITS.\n\n  FREDERICK W. HAMILTON, _Education Director_.\n\n\n\n\nCONTRIBUTORS\n\n=For Composition and Electrotypes=\n\n  ISAAC H. BLANCHARD COMPANY, New York, N. Y.\n  S. H. BURBANK & CO., Philadelphia, Pa.\n  J. S. CUSHING & CO., Norwood, Mass.\n  THE DEVINNE PRESS, New York, N. Y.\n  R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS CO., Chicago, Ill.\n  GEO. H. ELLIS CO., Boston, Mass.\n  EVANS-WINTER-HEBB, Detroit, Mich.\n  FRANKLIN PRINTING COMPANY, Philadelphia, Pa.\n  GAGE PRINTING CO., LTD., Battle Creek, Mich.\n  F. H. GILSON COMPANY, Boston, Mass.\n  STEPHEN GREENE & CO., Philadelphia, Pa.\n  WILLIAM GREEN, New York, N. Y.\n  W. F. HALL PRINTING CO., Chicago, Ill.\n  FRANK D. JACOBS CO., Philadelphia, Pa.\n  WILSON H. LEE CO., New Haven, Conn.\n  J. B. LIPPINCOTT CO., Philadelphia, Pa.\n  MACCALLA & CO. INC., Philadelphia, Pa.\n  THE PATTESON PRESS, New York.\n  THE PLIMPTON PRESS, Norwood, Mass.\n  POOLE BROS., Chicago, Ill.\n  REMINGTON PRINTING CO., Providence, R. I.\n  EDWARD STERN & CO., Philadelphia, Pa.\n  THE STONE PRINTING & MFG. CO., Roanoke, Va.\n  STATE JOURNAL COMPANY, Lincoln, Neb.\n  THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, Cambridge, Mass.\n\n=For Composition=\n\n  BOSTON TYPOTHETAE SCHOOL OF PRINTING, Boston, Mass.\n  WILLIAM F. FELL CO., Philadelphia, Pa.\n  THE KALKHOFF COMPANY, New York, N. Y.\n  OXFORD-PRINT, Boston, Mass.\n  TOBY RUBOVITS, Chicago, Ill.\n\n=Electrotypers=\n\n  BLOMGREN BROTHERS CO., Chicago, Ill.\n  FLOWER STEEL ELECTROTYPING CO., New York, N. Y.\n  C. J. PETERS & SON CO., Boston, Mass.\n  ROYAL ELECTROTYPE CO., Philadelphia, Pa.\n  H. C. WHITCOMB & CO., Boston, Mass.\n\n=For Engravings=\n\n  AMERICAN TYPE FOUNDERS CO., Boston, Mass.\n  C. B. COTTRELL & SONS CO., Westerly, R. I.\n  GOLDING MANUFACTURING CO., Franklin, Mass.\n  HARVARD UNIVERSITY, Cambridge, Mass.\n  INLAND PRINTER CO., Chicago, Ill.\n  LANSTON MONOTYPE MACHINE COMPANY, Philadelphia, Pa.\n  MERGENTHALER LINOTYPE COMPANY, New York, N. Y.\n  GEO. H. MORRILL CO., Norwood, Mass.\n  OSWALD PUBLISHING CO., New York, N. Y.\n  THE PRINTING ART, Cambridge, Mass.\n  B. D. RISING PAPER COMPANY, Housatonic, Mass.\n  THE VANDERCOOK PRESS, Chicago, Ill.\n\n=For Book Paper=\n\n  AMERICAN WRITING PAPER CO., Holyoke, Mass.\n  BRYANT PAPER CO., Kalamazoo, Mich.\n  THE MIAMI PAPER CO., West Carrollton, Ohio.\n  OXFORD PAPER COMPANY, New York, N. Y.\n  WEST VIRGINIA PULP & PAPER CO., Mechanicville, N. Y.\n\n=For Book Cloth=\n\n  INTERLAKEN MILLS, Providence, R. I.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nPassages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.\n\nPassages in bold are indicated by =bold=.\n\nAccording to the text on page 13, one example for rule 25 and one\nexample for rule 26 appear to be incorrect. These have been left\nas presented in the original text.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Compound Words, by Frederick W. Hamilton\n\n*** ","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}