Lucas Mackenzie and the London Midnight Ghost Show Page 15

  “Hey, Squirt—I mean, Lucas,” said Eddie. “That was a mean beak you were working with tonight.”

  “It would have been kind of hard to sneak out while I was eighteen feet tall, Eddie. Thanks for throwing that light switch.”

  “No problem-o, kid. That’s what we lighting experts do.”

  There was a noise like someone starting a game of pickup sticks. The McClatter boys came dancing down the aisle, still dressed in their usher uniforms. They carried a note for Lucas.

  “Uh oh,” Lucas said upon reading it. “The Professor wants a word with me. I’m probably getting sacked for sort of contacting my family. He warned me not to. I promised, and then I did it anyway. And now they’re talking about it on television.”

  * * *

  “Close the door, please,” said Professor McDuff. He had appropriated the theater manager’s office for this little meeting. Lucas was concerned about whatever it might be, but his spirits brightened on noting that Columbine was already seated in the office as well, and waiting for him. She was smiling.

  “First, Lucas, I’d like to say that tonight was one of the finest exhibitions of transmogrification I’ve ever witnessed. A superb Old English game bantam, with every feather in place. And your first attempt. Some Class IVs never attain that degree of perfection. Bravo.”

  “Uh, thank you,” Lucas said. He didn’t know if he should remain standing or sit next to Columbine.

  “Now, take a look at this,” the Professor said as he unrolled a large parchment and spread it across the desk, revealing an artist’s rendition of a nineteenth-century plantation mansion. It looked almost haunted.

  “Before I get to this, Lucas, let me share what I think you will regard as bad news. In some ways, I do as well. Heartbreaking, even. But I am also joyful at the opportunities it presents. To, ah, make this long story short, tonight was our final performance. I am disbanding The London Midnight Ghost Show.”

  Lucas reeled. Surely he didn’t mean it. Surely Columbine wasn’t going along with this. It wasn’t fair! They had won. Dr. Hull had given up. For Lucas to never see his parents and Katie again after tonight was one thing. To also never see the cast again—especially Columbine—was another. Lucas couldn’t bear to see the show folded and the cast scattered. He feared returning to the black void, to the oblivion that he occupied prior to that night on Broadway, the night that he had met Oliver and Yorick.

  “But tonight was one of our strongest performances yet,” Lucas said. “A packed house! And I know you have ideas on the drawing board that we haven’t even tried. Why on earth would you close the show?”

  “It’s simple economics,” Professor McDuff explained. “The spook show business peaked at least a decade ago. We’ve become a dinosaur. Once there were a dozen strong shows touring the country plus a dozen or more inferior shows riding their coattails. Today, beside ourselves, there are only a few shows in business at all. And we are, as you know, a somewhat different show attempting to blend in with the more ordinary shows. That becomes more difficult as the other shows decline and fade away.”

  “Perhaps if we used stronger publicity material,” Lucas said. “Or opened the show with larger and scarier illusions. What if we dared transmogrifications?”

  “It’s not a matter of our having a better show. Ours is one of the finest that has ever toured. I couldn’t ask for a finer cast, and, as you well know, we have capabilities no other show has ever possessed. It’s simply a matter of the business itself vanishing. Oh, you could blame it on television, I suppose, but the real answer is that everything moves in cycles. It has always been the way. And the cycle for traveling ghost shows is over. I have no doubt that a need for our services will cycle back some day. Perhaps, in fifty or one hundred years, I shall contact the two of you and ask if you’d like to entertain teenagers in small-town movie houses. My, I wonder if they will have movie houses then. If so, I am certain a ten-year-old stage manager and a fifteen-year-old seer will be just what I shall need.”

  Lucas flinched at being called ten years old, and he didn’t want the show he was so proud of, the show his parents had just seen, to end. He looked to Columbine for help.

  “It’s all true, Lucas,” she said. “I’ve seen the future, and we can’t stop it. We aren’t relevant anymore.”

  “But what about us?” Lucas said. “Where will everyone go?”

  “Most of the cast already have outside occupations,” the Professor said. “Ollie has his modeling work with Charlie. The New Yorker can’t get enough of the Addams ‘family.’ And Hollywood calls so many of the others. The McClatter boys and the Gilbert girls will always find steady work before the camera. As will Eddie. These hotrod movies are the coming thing. And while Yorick will find occasional work in film, I’ve lined up something even more exciting for him. He’s the new assistant editor at Famous Monsters of Filmland. He shall help Forest Ackerman write gags for the magazine. Mr. Ackerman just loves the idea of having him around. A floating, talking skull is the perfect accessory for the Famous Monsters offices. Which brings me to you two.”

  Lucas stole a worried look at Columbine.

  “Take a look at this drawing,” said the Professor. “It’s a sketch of a haunted house ride at Disneyland. Mr. Disney commissioned it a couple of years ago, and they’ve settled on this antebellum mansion design. I’ve been working with the design engineers on some special effects for the place. Soon they will issue a casting call for 999 ghosts. I’d like you two to be first in line.”

  “Disneyland?” Lucas said, brightening at the turn of the conversation. “I’ve always wanted to go to Disneyland.”

  “One of the scenes in the ride will be a séance room, featuring a large crystal ball,” said the Professor. “A lady’s head will appear inside the crystal, and she will be giving readings.”

  “That’s my bit,” said Columbine. “I can sit under the table with my head showing inside the crystal ball. The way you saw me in Leota Price’s séance parlor at Lily Dale. Most of the time, I’ll just do stock séance lines, you know, like ‘Strike up the band ’neath a harvest moon/Conjure the spirits with a Halloween tune.’ In my spooky voice. But if I see riders who really need it, I can give them specific readings. It will be fun, and far more interesting than standing in a booth all day in Atlantic City.”

  “As for you, Lucas,” the Professor said, “our performance at the Starlite Drive-in gave me an idea. Remember the gag at the end, where the local ghosts entered the cars as unexpected hitchhikers? The Disneyland attraction will move the people through it in little vehicles. We thought it would be a nice touch if ghosts would hitch a ride in those vehicles. Now, the advantage is that this is an official Haunted House, where contact with ghosts is expected and therefore permitted. Hence, if your family were to participate as paying customers, you could hitch a ride in their vehicle and pass some time with them.”

  “Perfect!” cried Lucas. Death’s reach was far-ranging, but it was comforting to know that even death had its loopholes. Against the darkest night shine distant stars. The promise of future encounters, however fleeting they might be—even a few shared seconds on a theme park ride, even if the visits were months or years apart—thrilled Lucas. There would be so much catching up to do!

  It was also not lost upon him that it was expected that his future were to be shared with Columbine. An expectation she seemed to endorse, this girl who only moments earlier had casually kissed him! However long he would have to wait to visit with his parents and Katie, the wait was going to be most agreeable.

  “When do we start?” he asked.

  “Oh, it will still be a few years, though as you know the years pass quickly in our world. Construction will begin soon, and my contacts at Disneyland assure me that ghosts will be allowed to inhabit the premises long before the ride is open to the public. Meanwhile, after hours, ghosts will have the run of the park. I thought you might like that part.”

  “Oh, Professor,” said
Lucas. “I’ve always wanted to ride the Jungle Cruise. I used to read about it.”

  “I think riding the Jungle Cruise, alone in the middle of the night, will be very romantic, Lucas,” said Columbine. “I’m afraid of wild animals though. I will expect you to hold me very tight.”

  Lucas felt as though he were blushing from head to toe. But then a thought troubled him.

  “And what about you, Professor?” he said. “Where will you go?”

  A peaceful look crossed Professor McDuff’s face, as if he were dreaming of paradise. “I’ve been thinking of retiring to Florida,” he said. “To Cassadaga, specifically. It’s a sister community to Lily Dale in New York, a community of spiritualists. It’s growing in popularity, and the mediums there are advertising for new ghosts. I think I shall apply.”

  “Oh, and let me guess,” said Lucas. “I don’t need to be a Columbine, do I, to predict that a certain Lily Dale medium named Alice Monroe may also be setting up business in Cassadaga?”

  The Professor smiled. “Alice has grandchildren in Florida. She too feels a move to a warmer climate would be advantageous. But enough of me, young man. I do believe your family is still just outside the theater. Although it wouldn’t do for them to see you, I think a little more eavesdropping on your part is in order.”

  “Thanks, Professor.” Lucas grabbed Columbine by the hand. “Come see my sister,” he said to her. “She’s just about your age, now. You’ll like her.”

  * * *

  At the Halloween party at Reader Cemetery, just north of Alexandria, the resident ghosts had installed a beacon searchlight over Lucas’s tombstone in honor of their local hero. Although a few locals had backstage passes for the evening’s earlier performance, none had expected Alexandria’s visiting son to save the day in such dramatic fashion. The cemetery was abuzz over LUCAS JAMES MACKENZIE 1945-1955.

  As the cast mingled with the residents, the standard Halloween joke made the rounds: partygoers complimented each other on how authentic their “ghost” costumes looked.

  The McClatter boys rustled up a baseball game, and the Gilbert sisters flirted with three brothers who once played football at Dartmouth. Oliver and Eddie played chess on a flat headstone, and Yorick traded jokes with a local comic who once starred in vaudeville. The Professor chatted with Lucas’s great-great Uncle Albert, an amateur magician who had once seen the Professor perform in Europe.

  Columbine stood at Lucas’s side as the boy accepted praises from local dignitaries.

  “A wonderful show,” said Senator Maxwell, who served in the state house during Lincoln’s days. “A pity the President wasn’t here to see it.”

  “Exceedingly brave of you,” said Congressman Bean, who served during Teddy Roosevelt’s era. “You gave that ne’er-do-well what for.”

  “An ingenious transmogrification,” said Councilman Wilson, who served during World War I. “I used to raise chickens myself.”

  “So nice of your company to perform here,” said Mayor Beadles, who presided over the town during the Great Depression. “Sometimes I think folks forget Alexandria is even on the map.”

  Much later, long after the searchlight had been extinguished and the locals had begun retiring to family plots, Lucas and Columbine walked alone among the headstones. Columbine’s ponytail bounced as they walked.

  “I’ve been thinking,” said Lucas.

  “Yes?”

  “If I can turn myself into an oversized gamecock, I’m pretty sure I can turn myself into a fourteen-year-old Lucas Mackenzie. You know, taller. With muscles, even. In fact I think I can make that permanent.”

  “I know.”

  “You thought of that already?”

  “A girl can dream.”

  Lucas smiled, and it took no gazing crystal or Tarot deck to see how happy his diary entries were about to become. He looked forward to a long, long future with this girl.

  “But, not tonight, okay?” he said. “Tonight is the first night in ever so long that I am happy just being me. It’s been a nice night.”

  “I can wait,” Columbine said.

  Their feet carried them deeper into the garden of monuments, far from the others.

  As they walked, Columbine lurched sideways and bumped into Lucas’s arm. Her touch sent what felt like an electric shock surging through his body. Lucas was developing feelings he had never experienced before, and he liked it.

  He followed by bumping into her arm.

  “There is something I forgot to tell you, Lucas,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  She stopped, turned, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

  “Tag,” she said. “You’re It.”

  Lucas looked up at his fantastically pretty girlfriend.

  “Oh, only for about three seconds,” he said.

  He lunged at her, but her legs were fast and spry as well as long. The two engaged in an animated dance of advances and sidesteps.

  The last anyone saw of them that evening was their two leaping silhouettes among the tombstones, the black forms of a ten-year-old boy and his improbably tall girlfriend cast against the setting ball of the fat orange Halloween moon.

  Suggested Reading

  If you would like to read more about the great traveling ghost shows of twentieth-century America, try Mark Walker’s Ghostmasters (Cool Hand Communications, Inc., 1991), a fine updating of his earlier Spook Shows on Parade (Baltimore: Magic Media Ltd., 1978).

  As to behind-the-scene ghost show secrets, I recommend either C. Alexander’s The Life and Mysteries of the Celebrated Dr. Q (Columbus, OH: Nelson Enterprises, 1921) or Robert A. Nelson’s The Ghost Book of Dark Secrets (Columbus, OH: Nelson Enterprises), if you can figure out where to obtain a copy.

  Lily Dale is a real place full of spirit mediums, and you can read about it in Christine Wicker’s Lily Dale: The True Story of the Town That Talks to the Dead (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, Inc., 2002).

  You can delve into the wonderfully macabre life of Charles Addams in the biography Chas Addams/A Cartoonist’s Life by Linda H. Davis (New York: Random House, 2006). Although new collections of Mr. Addams’ cartoons appear now and then at the bookstores, it’s fun to seek out some of the original hardbound anthologies, whose very names still give me goose bumps: Drawn and Quartered, Addams and Evil, Monster Rally, Homebodies, Nightcrawlers, Black Maria, and The Groaning Board, among others.

  Forrest J Ackerman (who insisted there be no period after the J) was too good to be true, and you can read about him in Elizabeth Gilbert’s “My Favorite Martian,” her profile of him in the March 2001 issue of GQ. His magazine, Famous Monsters of Filmland, is still available at the newsstand.

  Finally, the Disney folks have built four Haunted Mansions as of this date and filled them with ghosts. You can visit the ghosts in person or read about them in Jason Surrell’s The Haunted Mansion/From the Magic Kingdom to the Movies (New York: Disney Editions, 2003).

  Keep the lights on!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks and much love to three amazing ladies who made this book possible.

  First, thanks to Anna Olswanger, my agent, who found the perfect home for this story. It is an honor to join Anna’s stable of esteemed authors and illustrators, all of whom know that Anna’s work on their behalf only begins on a work’s acceptance. None of us could wish for a better champion.

  Second, to my editor, Jackie Kessler, for your spooky credentials, for your patience, and for your hundreds of suggestions that have made this a much better story than it originally dared to be. I am so lucky that you got this assignment.

  And third, to Georgia McBride, on behalf of your authors and readers everywhere who have found their way to Month9Books, the publishing house of our dreams, or should I say nightmares? It is a thrill to get to represent this house.

  I also thank my family and friends who have listened to me chat about this book from its earliest stages. Thanks in particular to my w
ife, Beth, and our children—Josh, Nate, and Sarah—for embracing decades of home ghost shows and for supporting and tolerating the isolation that writing requires, not just for this book but also for the manuscripts and books that came before it. Individual thanks to Sarah for being my first reader and for your advice, and to my granddaughter, Audrey, whose curiosity about this book has inspired me to get it completed and into your hands.

  Finally, thanks to the twentieth-century magicians and midnight ghost show operators who dared face theaters full of teenagers on Saturday nights with your spooky magic tricks and macabre mysteries. Your exploits have inspired me since the days I first dabbled in magic, and it has been a delight to write about them.

  Steve Bryant

  Steve Bryant is a new novelist, but a veteran author of books of card tricks. He founded a 40+ page monthly internet magazine for magicians containing news, reviews, magic tricks, humor, and fiction; and he frequently contributes biographical cover articles to the country’s two leading magic journals (his most recent article was about the séance at Hollywood’s Magic Castle).

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  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note