CHAPTER TEN:
A MYSTICAL EXPERIENCE
It had been quite some time since escaping from the Witch again, and thetwo friends walked along the road lost in thought. Well, that is to say,Graham was lost in thought, whereas Telly was absent-mindedly playing anold commercial:
_Double your pleasure, double your fun, Get double ev'rything rolled into one, Oh, double your pleasure, double your fun, with double good, double good, Double-mint gum_.
Suddenly, the pair came across a sign at the side of the road whichread:
_OZ INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT DEPARTURES UPPER LEVEL ARRIVALS LOWER LEVELFOLLOW THE BLUE SIGNS FOR THE UPPER LEVEL FOLLOW THE RED SIGNS FOR THELOWER LEVEL_
"Telly!" cried Graham. "Telly! I can't believe it! An airport in Oz? Whydidn't you tell me? Now I can go home. All I have to do is buy a ticket.They can call my dad and get his credit card number."
"Now wait a minute!" Telly exclaimed. "Not so fast, my young friend.There is no airport in Oz. Never was, and never will be. It's just notpossible for airplanes to fly here from anywhere. Queen Ozma herself sawto that after a certain incident with a little girl and a pet monkey.No, this cannot be for real. Must be some kind of trick."
Graham was crestfallen. He was just not prepared to accept such a dismalopinion. "Oh, no! I'm sure you're mistaken. They wouldn't have a signlike that if there was no airport there."
"Well, I hate to say I told you so. But you'll see when we get therethat there's nothing there," Telly said emphatically. "At least, not anairport ..." He suddenly stopped in his tracks. "I can't believe whatI'm seeing!" he shouted incredulously as the sight of a huge airport(the size of L.A. International) loomed up ahead.
"SEE! I told you so!" shouted Graham with obvious delight as he ranforward. "Home sweet home, here I come!"
"Not so fast!" warned Telly. "Not so fast! It has to be a trick. Maybethe Wicked Witch has created an illusion and ... and it's really hercastle...."
But Graham was already out of earshot. Before him loomed a giant 747glistening in the sun, its huge jet engines screaming with impatiencefor full power to be applied, and the passenger door was open at the topof the stairs with a smiling flight attendant beckoning Graham aboard."Hurry up!" she called. "We're ready to take off, and you're runninglate."
Graham scurried up the stairs as fast as his little legs would carryhim.... The flight attendant checked his name off a list, and the doorclosed quickly, leaving Graham with no time to say goodbye to Telly, whowas at that moment looking up at the plane forlornly as it taxiedforward toward the runway. Meanwhile, Graham was being bundled into hisseat and buckled into his seatbelt by the pretty flight attendant. Itwas only then that he remembered that he had not purchased a ticket, norhad he had a chance to say goodbye to Telly. He was seated alone by thewindow and quickly looked out to see if he could catch a glimpse of hisfriend. But it was too late; the plane was already at the end of therunway and several feet into the air with the countryside whizzing pastand getting smaller and smaller as the plane quickly ascended.
The captain's voice came over the intercom loud and clear. "Goodmorning, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking. We havedeparted Oz International Airport and will be cruising at twentythousand feet. We should be arriving at our destination in about threehours. You may remove your seatbelts and make yourselves comfortable.Refreshments will be served shortly, and you may watch our in-flightmovie if you wish."
Graham looked around to see who else was sharing his flight. He wasastonished to see that there were no other passengers at all. Now hebegan to get frightened. Why would a great big airplane take off with nopassengers except himself? And who was that captain addressing when hesaid "ladies and gentlemen"? He was beginning to feel that he had beencaught up in an episode of Telly's _Twilight Zone_. Just then, he caughta glimpse of a portly gentleman approaching him from the front of theplane. He assumed there was another passenger after all, one who musthave been sitting in the front seat, and too low for his head to bevisible. However, as the gentleman approached closer to where Graham wasseated, the boy became even more perplexed. The gentleman in questionwas none other than William Shakespeare! Oh, there was no mistaking suchan historical figure. Graham had seen paintings and drawings of him manytimes. And his clothes and features were an exact replica of thoseportrayals. Not only that, but he was carrying a great big book entitled_The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_. Suddenly Graham flushedwith embarrassment. How could he think for one moment that this wasWilliam Shakespeare? The fellow was obviously an actor, perhaps on hisway home from making a movie and so late for his flight that he did nothave time to change his clothes or remove his makeup. At that moment thegentleman spoke ... "Good day, my dear fellow. My name is WilliamShakespeare. Do you mind if I sit here? The plane's rather crowded and Isee that you have the whole aisle to yourself."
"Okay! That's it," thought Graham. "The guy's a definite nut case. Musthave escaped from the looney bin and somehow got to Oz. The plane'scrowded indeed! He and I are the only passengers! Every single seat isempty." However, "Mr. Shakespeare" seated himself next to Graham withoutwaiting for a reply. "I know that you don't believe I'm who I say I am,"he said. "But I can assure you, I am he who is often referred to as TheBard of Avon. All I'd like you to do is to tell earth's disbelievers whodon't accept that I wrote my works that I did indeed write them."Without waiting for Graham to respond, he then proceeded to break intoverse in a gentle, melodic voice:
"_I am he who wrote my verse, My dramas, sonnets, quibbles, rhyme, I'm Shakespeare still--dear England's Bard-- And shall ever be, throughout time.
I wrote, 'tis true, some sonnets, plays, To make a living, pass the time In merriment or jest and glee-- I turned out many a ribaled rhyme.
To set the world right, And make snivelers agree As to who wrote Shakespeare, If 'twere BACON or He,
Or Marlowe or Pitt, Or scribes ages old, I say to them all-- The truth is now told.
When a man among kings (I was knighted by one) Where a handle or wheel makes a favorite son Distinguished through time for something he's done, For a knight in his day must his laurels have won.
With a band of king's players by Bill Shakespeare led, I played many roles, e'en recalled the dead To piece out my plot or to string out my rhyme, Nor considered it theft, more an honor that time, To borrow a plot for a queen or a king, And watch their amuse as my poor muse would sing. So each time I needed a plot or a play I searched o'er the tomes where musty plots lay Bulging out with ideas from craniums dust, Whose shades may have helped as I now know and trust. But that any one man made a plot or a play, Or was such singled out as a ruse for my pay, I deny in _fac toto_ in spirit this day. Should any man's play be found in my work, Which was not by me writ, 'tis a publisher's quirk; Which one day I'll acclaim; for I mean to read all As signed with my name_."
Young Graham was beyond words at this outpouring of verse. The mode oflanguage was not something he could identify with in his everyday world,and it was quite beyond his level of comprehension. But he sensed thiswas no ordinary man in his presence. "Are you really WilliamShakespeare?" he ventured forth timidly. "And if you truly are, howcould you still be alive hundreds of years after you were born?"
"Well, young one," smiled the Bard kindly, "that is a longstory...Suffice to say I am here with you having this conversation. Andlook around you--many of the other passengers are people from yourhistory books. We are en route to our home beyond the outer fringes ofOz. We are graduates of the University of Higher Consciousness, and weare on our way to Historicalfigureland. So much hatred exists in theworld you come from, and where there is not exactly hatred per se, thereis often indifference or even total apathy for the plight of others. Andas if your world were not bad enough with the constant warring betweennations, many individuals in so-called civilized lands feel the need todeclare war on their neighbors. I am speaking of your young peoplekilling each other for no other reason than that it has b
ecome the thingto do. What is so sad is that they totally lack remorse for theirvictims' pain and suffering and give not the slightest thought to thevictims' families left behind in utter and complete desolation andsadness at their terrible loss. Our goal is to find a way to encouragepeople to reach out to one another--to care for one another. That is whywe wrote our books and plays, to teach people what life be truly about."
_Okay. That's it_, thought Graham. _There's no doubt about the truth ofwhat the old guy is saying regarding earth conditions. But the queer oldboy is definitely off his rocker. First, there's definitely no otherpassengers on the plane, and_ ... "Good grief!" he exclaimed as theoutlines of human forms began to appear in the other passenger seats.Gradually these forms became more solid until he realized that indeedthe plane was filled with passengers, many of which were historicalfigures in the modes of dress of their particular times in history.First he saw Napoleon in the aisle to his immediate left. Then, next tohim, Marie Antoinette. Then Mary, Queen-of-Scots, Henry the Eighth, andAlexander the Great. In the next aisle: Caesar Augustus, Mark Anthony,Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, Aristotle, and Plato. It seemed that everyhistorical figure of note was present aboard the plane, not to mention asprinkling of people from various walks of life, such as MarcusAurelius, Jane Merrick, Kenneth Gage Baum, Fred Stone, Judy Garland, andRay Powell. Of course, Graham did not know who everyone was by name, butmany faces looked familiar to him.
"I'm terribly sorry," apologized Shakespeare. "I didn't realize thatyour eyes had not yet become sensitized to the higher vibrations of myfriends. What must you have thought of me?" "Oh, nothing at all," criedGraham. "I mean, I hadn't really noticed all these people. I was soengrossed in what you were saying."
"Really?" replied the Bard with a twinkle in his eye. "I quiteunderstand. People are always totally captivated by my words. Anyway, asI was saying, or rather, as I was about to say..."
At that moment, a head bent over the Bard's shoulder to say hello toGraham. It was none other than Mark Twain, whom Graham instantlyrecognized. And with him was a gentleman who introduced himself asCharles Dickens. He gave Graham a wink and shook his hand. "You're afine young fellow. I predict that you will go far in life." Of course,Graham was speechless. It suddenly hit him that he was in the company ofsome of the world's greatest human beings. If he ever got back home andtried to tell people, they would be sure to lock him up and throw awaythe key. Mark Twain asked how things were going and assured him that,while the plane would not be able to transport him home, he felt certainthat, when the time came, a way would be found which would enable him toreturn. "If not," Mark Twain said, "not to worry. There'd never be adull moment in Oz!"
_Oh, that's just great!_ thought Graham. Now there was a chance that hewould not get back. But did not Shakespeare say that he wanted him toinform the world that he had written his own stuff? He would not havesaid that if he did not think that the boy would get home to tell thetale. _What am I saying?_ thought Graham. _None of this is reallyhappening. I'm just having the most gigantic, craziest dream anyone hasever had_.
"By the way," said Mark Twain, interrupting Graham's thoughts. "Here area couple of letters I forgot to mail to my poet friend, Bayard Taylor.They should probably be in some collection somewhere so, if you'd takethem back with you, I'd appreciate it. I said in one letter that I'dprobably forget to stamp it, and I did." Twain handed Graham the lettersand indicated that he did not mind the boy's reading them if he wantedto.
_There I go again_, thought Graham, _believing in my own dream._ In anyevent, he settled back in the seat and began to read the letters.However, before he could really get started, Charles Dickens interruptedhim.
"As usual, this Twain fellow takes over and hogs the conversation. Inthe very near future, young Graham, you and I will get together, andI'll tell you some very interesting stories of my childhood. In themeantime," he said, scribbling on a piece of paper that had some kind ofdrawing on it, "I have autographed a sketch of Boz to take back withyou. Boz was the name I used when I first embarked on my literaryadventures. In case you are wondering if there is a cryptic connectionbetween Boz and Baum and Oz, you'll have to keep wondering about that. Iwas born at Portsea, Portsmouth, a few minutes before midnight on theseventh of February, 1812, forty-four years before Mr. Baum was born. Icame to Oz in 1870, when Mr. Baum was only fourteen years old. He wasnot destined to write about Oz until some thirty years later. Now, whenyou come back, I'll tell you some more about my early days, and I'llmake sure that our friend Twain doesn't bask in his self-perceivedlimelight while we're having our important discussions."
"Now, you listen up, Mr. Dickens, sir," said Mark Twain withmock anger, for they were actually the best of friends. "I resent that,and I won't have you filling the boy's head with a lot of imaginaryadventures and strange connections between words. Next you'll be tellinghim there's a link between the Land of Ev and Robert Evans--or even moreludicrous--that Frank Oz and Michael Ovitz of Hollywood have a mysticallink to Oz because they have Oz in their names, or even more ludicrous,that you and Chris Dulabone have a connection because you both have theinitials C.D. I mean, how far can you go with this stuff? I'm tellingthe boy about real things and about real life..."
Dickens just shook his head slowly and turned to Graham. "I really don'tpay much attention to his rambling. Go ahead and read his boring lettersbefore he has a kitten. I won't forget my promise to you, and we'll havea delightfully interesting time together, you'll see. And I promise you,my stories will not be imaginary. Oh, by the way, here's some of mycorrespondence you might wish to take back with you. One is a letter andnote I sent to my American friend, Mr. Fields of Boston, and also somebeverage recipes I sent to Mrs. Fields. Also an announcement of twoplays I produced, one of which I acted in and--"
"You're not the only actor around here, Mr. Dickens, sir!" interruptedTwain. "I've acted in plays, too. For example, I was in _Loan of aLover_ in 1876. Your Mrs. Fields, by the way, said I was wonderful init. And as long as you're producing letters you wrote to Mr. Fields,I'll give young Graham a copy of a letter that I wrote to Mr. Fields. Sowhat do you think about that?"
Graham was astounded to hear these two world-famous personages fightinglike children and competing for his attention. What would his historyteacher and his fellow classmates think? He accepted the additionalmaterial, then settled down to begin reading as the two men continued toargue all the way back to their seats. He started with Mark Twain'sletters. There were actually four letters, one of them completely inGerman, which Twain probably had not meant to hand him. But the boy readit anyway, no matter that he did not understand a word. It did not dawnon him that, if this was a dream, where did the German words come fromif they were not in his consciousness to begin with? Below is a copy ofthe letters for the record, although it is suggested that the readerskim over them for now, as they are not relevant except as historicalinterest:
_Schloss-Hotel Heidelberg May 7, 1878 H. Albert
Lieber Herr Taylor:
Wir werden hier blieben viellicht fuer drie Monate, zum Schloss Hotel.
--Dies hotel steht about fuenf und siebenzig Fuss Hoehler als das Schloss,und commandirt ein Aussicht welcher ohne Ahnlichkeit in der Welt hat.(Sie mussen excuse auskratchens, interlineations.)
Ich habe heute gecalled on der Herr Professor Ihne, qui est dieProfessor von Englishen Zunge im University, to get him to recommend einDeutchen Lehrer Fuer mich, welcher he did. Er sprach um mehrererAmericanischer authors, und meist guengstiger & vernuegungsvoll von Ihrer;dass er knew you and Ihrer so wohl durch Ihrer geschereibungen; und wannIch habe gesagt Ich sollen Ihr schreiben heute Nacht gewesen if nothinghappened, er bitte mich Opfer sein compliments, und hoffe Ihnen will ihmbesuchen wenn du Kommst an Heidelberg. Er war ein vortrefflicher andliebwuerdiger & every way delightful alte gentleman. Man sagt Ich mussein Pass (in der English, Passport,) haben to decken accidents. Daefurgefelligt Ihnen furnish me one. Meine Beschreibung ist vollenden: Geborn1835; 5 Fuss 8 ein wenig unter, sometimes ein wenig oben; dunke
l braunHaar und rhotes Moustache, full Gesicht, mit sehr hohe Oren and leichtgrau practvolles strahlenden Augen und ein Verdammtes gut moralcharacter. Handlungkeit, Author von Buecher. Ich habe das Deutche sprachegelernt und bin ein gluecklicher Kind, you bet. With warmest regards &kindness remembrances from all our party to you & your wife anddaughter.
Yrs sincerely, S. L. Clemens
The Koenigstuhl, June 10 [1878] Lieber Herrn Taylor:
(Don't know whether it ought to be Herr or Herrn). Am much obliged forthe letter--it was from friend whom I have been trying to ferret out.Yes, we still live at the Schloss-Hotel, & shall doubtless continue todo so until the neighborhood of August--but I only eat and sleep there;my work-den is the second story of a little Wirthschaft which stands atthe base of the tower on the summit of the Konigsstuhl. I walk up thereevery morning at 10, write until 3, talk the most hopeless andunimprovable German with the family 'til 5, then tramp down to the Hotelfor the night. It is a schones Aussicht up there as you may remember.The exercise of climbing up there is invigorating but devilish. I havejust written regrets to the Paris Literary Convention. I did hate tohave to miss that entertainment, but I knew that if I went there & spenta fortnight it would take me another fortnight to get settled down intothe harness again--couldn't afford that.
The Emperor is a splendid old hero! That he could survive such woundsnever entered my head--yet by the news I judge he is actuallyrecovering. It is worth something to be a Lincoln or a Kaiser Wilhelm--&it gives a man a better opinion of the world to show appreciation forsuch men--& what is better, love of them.--I have not seen anything ofthis outburst of affectionate indignation since Mr. Lincoln'sassassination gave the common globe a sense of personal injury. Ich habeder Consul Smith gesehen ein Paar Wochen ago, & told him about thatPass, und er hat mir gesagt das er wurde be absent from thisgegen--(something) zwei oder drei Wochen, aber wann er sollte hierwieder nachkommen, wollte er der pass geschlagen worden & snake it offto Berlin. Vielleicht hat er noch nicht zu Mannheim zuruck-kehrt.
Now as to the grammar of this language; I haven't conquered theAccusative Case yet (I began with that) & there are three more. Itbegins to seem to me that I have got to try to get along with theAccusative alone & leave the rest of this grammar to be tackled in thefuture life.
With our kindest remembrances to you & yours
Yrs sincerely, S. L. Clemens
Hotel de l'Ecu de Geneve Sept. 8/78
My dear Mr. Taylor:
I have learned the German language & forgotten it again; so I resumeEnglish once more. I have just returned from a walking trip to MontBlanc--which I was intending to ascend, but was obliged to give up theidea, as I had gone too early & there was still snow on it. I find yourletter here; if you will be so kind as to forward Slote's letter to theabove address I think it will be in time to catch me--& in any case Iwill make arrangements to have it follow me. (I am going to try toenclose the necessary stamps in this, but if I forget it--however, Iwon't)
We have been poking around slowly through Switzerland for a month; aweek hence we go to Venice--to Rome & other places later; & we arebooked for Munich Nov. 10 (for the winter.) One of these days I am goingto whet up my German again & take a run to Berlin, & have a talk withyou in that fine old tongue.
Yrs Ever
S. L. Clemens
No. 1a Karlstrasse,
(2e stock) Munich, Dec. 14 [1878]
My Dear Mr. Taylor:
When we were poking around Italy 3 or 4 weeks ago, I was told that youwere ill, but straightway saw it contradicted in a newspaper. Now comesthis paragraph in Galignani which not only shows that the contradictionwas erroneous, but shows how ignorant one may be in this country aboutwhat is happening only a few hundred miles away; especially when one isburied in work & neither talks with people or often looks in the paper.We three folks are heartily glad to hear that you are coming happily outof it; & we are venturing to hope that by this time you are whollyrestored.
We are located for the winter,--I suppose. But the children are havingsuch a run of coughs & diptheria [sic], that I can't tell at what momentMrs. Clemens may take fright & flee to some kindlier climate. However, Istick hard at work & make what literary hay I can while we tarry. Ourlittle children talk German as glibly as they do English, now, but therest of us are mighty poor German scholars, I can tell you. Rev.Twitchell (who was over here with me a while,) conceived a prettycorrect average of my German. When I was talking, (in my native tongue,)about some rather private matters in the hearing of some Germans oneday, Twitchel said, "Speak in German, Mark,--some of these people mayunderstand English."
Many a time when teachers & dictionaries fail to unravel knottyparagraphs, we wish we could fly to you for succor; we even go so far asto believe you can read a German newspaper & understand it; & in momentsof deep irritation I have been provoked into expressing the opinion thatyou are the only foreigner except God who can do that thing. I would notrob you of your food or clothes or your umbrella, but if I caught yourGerman out I would take it. But I don't study any more,--I have given itup.
I & mine join in the kindest remembrances & best wishes to you & yourfamily.
Sincerely Yours
Saml. L. Clemens
We are going to try to run over to Berlin in the spring_.
As Graham finished Mark Twain's last letter--the one to Mr. Fields,dated 1874--he noticed that the next letter from Dickens to Mr. Fieldswas dated 1867--seven years prior. He wondered if the two famous writershad actually crossed paths or had just known the Fields independent ofone another. Either way, it was interesting to note that they werecontemporaries. He had always imagined that Dickens had lived in a muchearlier era than Twain. Well, to continue:
_Westminster Hotel, New York Sunday, Twenty-ninth December, 1867
My Dear Fields:
When I come to Boston for the two readings of the 6th and 7th, I shallbe alone, as the Dolby must be selling elsewhere. If you and Mrs. Fieldsshould have no other visitor, I shall be very glad indeed on thatoccasion to come to you. It is very likely that you may have some onecome with you. Of course you will tell me so if you have, and I willthen re'mbellish the Parker House.
Since I left Boston last, I have been so miserable that I have beenobliged to call in a Dr.--Dr. Fordyce Barker, a very agreeable fellow.He was strongly inclined to stop the Readings altogether for some fewdays, but I pointed out to him how we stood committed, and how I must goon if it could be done. My great terror was yesterday's Matinee, but itwent off splendidly. (A very heavy cold indeed, an irritated conditionof the uvula, and a restlessly low state of the nervous system, wereyour friends maladies. If I had not avoided visiting, I think I shouldhave been disabled for a week or so.)
I hear from London that the general question in society is, what will beblown up next year by the Fenians.
With love to Mrs. Fields, believe me,
Ever Affectionately yours, And hers, CHARLES DICKENS_
Following this letter to Mr. Fields was the note dated 1869 and therecipes for the brewing of pleasant beverages. Last was the program forthe two plays at the Tavistock House Theatre. Graham was really lookingforward to bringing all these things back with him.
As Graham got to the last line of the last letter, his eyes began tofeel heavy. The whirlwind of activity since his abduction had caught upwith him. Just as he was falling asleep, the sound of the captain'svoice on the intercom jerked him awake. "Ladies and gentlemen, we areapproaching Historicalfigureland International Airport. We hope you hadan enjoyable flight and hope to see you again on Oz Airlines. Oh, and toour young guest from America, you are welcome to visit your friends hereany time. But I'm sure you want to continue with your mission, and youwill be glad to hear that we will be making an immediate turnaroundafter the disembarkation of our other passengers. I believe you werebrought on board for the sole purpose of delivering some importantdocuments back to America, but you are certainly welcome to stay as longas you wish."
At that, the plane landed with
a slight bump and soon taxied to theterminal. The doors opened and everyone began to file out--many,anticipating that Graham would soon be returning, didn't engage him inconversation, but shook his hand warmly and wished him well. Mark Twaingave him a hug and said how much he had enjoyed his company. He saidthat Graham reminded him a lot of Tom Sawyer who, he said, currentlylived down the street from him. Seeing Graham's puzzled expression, hequickly explained that any imaginary character an author dreams up isactually a person that the author has tuned into. And that an authorrarely has an original thought in his head but is really very good atcatching glimpses of activities (present, past or future) somewhere increation.
As Mark Twain turned to the exit, Graham suddenly remembered a questionthat he had wanted to ask. "Oh, Mr. Twain," he called. "I wanted to askhow you came to use the name Mark Twain. I know your real name is SamuelClemens...."
"Well," responded Twain, "no one has ever asked me that questionbefore--Just kidding," he added quickly, seeing Graham's expression."Yes, I am asked it all the time. The name was first used by an oldMississippi river pilot named Isaiah Sellers, who used to write itemsfor the _New Orleans Picayune_, in which he told of his adventures. Hesigned them Mark Twain, which in the parlance of pilots is a leadsmancall meaning two fathoms, or twelve feet. When I was a cub pilot, Iwrote a burlesque on Captain Seller's articles and published it in arival paper under the signature of Sargeant Fathom. Unfortunately, thecaptain was so hurt by the burlesque that he never wrote anotherarticle. I still feel badly about it to this day, for I would never haveintentionally hurt the old gentleman's feelings. Anyway, in 1863, when Iwas working for the _Enterprise_ in Virginia City, Nevada, I wanted agood pen name and, while I was trying to think of one, I received thenews of the death of the good captain. This brought to mind the nameMark Twain, and so I adopted the name in his honor. I signed it first ina letter from Carson City to the _Enterprise_ on February second, 1863.So now you know, my young friend," said Twain as he handed him anautographed photo of himself. "Something to keep for yourself, inremembrance of your visit here." He hugged Graham again and wavedgoodbye to the boy as he descended from the plane.
Several distinguished-looking gentlemen stopped to introduce themselvesto Graham. One said his name was Ralph Waldo Emerson and another,Nathaniel Hawthorne. Yet another, Isaac Newton, who said Graham wouldprobably become a scientist.
"Undoubtedly a physicist," said Albert Einstein.
"Oh, no," interjected Eugene O'Neill. "There's no question that he willbe a writer." This last remark was overheard by Charles Lindbergh, whoinsisted that Graham would be a flyer. Then two deep resonant voicesspoke in unison: "It is obvious that the boy is a born actor." Thespeakers were Lionel Barrymore and John Gilbert. But Senator CharlesSumner had the final word: "Whether he becomes an actor or not isimmaterial: I can assure you that this young man's ultimate destiny isin the political arena."
After the distinguished group finished arguing about Graham's futurevocation, they said that, since he seemed to be starting an autographcollection, they would be glad to add theirs to the list. Even JohnDickens, father of Charles Dickens, signed the sheet. Then Emerson alsohanded him a note that he had written to--of all people--Mrs. Fields!"Don't mention this to Dickens or Twain," he said. "They'll just bejealous."
Turning to make sure Emerson had disembarked, Nathaniel Hawthorne winkedat Graham and whispered, "Here's a little note that I, too, wrote toMrs. Fields. Not a word now to Emmy, Dickybird, or Marky-Mark." Grahamlaughed out loud at the nicknames being given to Emerson, Dickens, andTwain, as well as the schoolboy-like antics being displayed by thesegreat men. Then Edward Lear, who wrote _The Owl and the Pussycat_, alsohanded him a handwritten note to Mrs. Fields. Graham could not help butthink what a popular lady this Mrs. Fields must have been in her day. Hewished he could have known her.
Hawthorne then handed him a signed photograph, as did Isaac Newton,Charles Darwin, Thomas Alva Edison, Albert Einstein, and H. G. Wells.Even Stephan Crane and Rudyard Kipling produced photographs.
Mr. Shakespeare was the last to leave. He had gone back to his seat whenMessrs. Twain and Dickens were vying for Graham's attention. He, too,hugged the boy as he said goodbye, then handed him a piece of paper. "Ihave written down the verses I recited to you earlier, my friend--justin case you are not able to remember them all. It is important that thisbe given, simply because so many people doubt my authorship. I supposeafter it is published there will still be doubters, but so be it.Skeptics have always existed and, I assume, always will. Some peoplelike to doubt the reality of certain phenomena that appears quiteobvious to others. I suspect it makes them feel secure: something theyno longer have to deal with. Well, good luck, my little friend. I'm sureyou will find your way home. Oh, incidentally, I almost forgot. I didn'twant to one-upmanship Dickens and Twain in their presence, but I was anactor too, you know--long before those two. You might also like to havemy autographed sketch. You will note the difference in my spelling of myname and the later versions." He stuffed a piece of paper in Graham'sshirt pocket as he exited.
As the plane's doors closed behind Shakespeare, the flight attendantbrought Graham a refreshing glass of lemonade. His thoughts turned toTelly, who had been so sad at being left behind. He eagerly lookedforward to seeing the little guy again.
Graham slept the entire trip back. He awoke just as the plane taxied tothe terminal. And who should be waiting in exactly the same place as heleft him but Telly, who was so glad that Graham had returned that he ranup and hugged him for the longest time.
"I knew you'd come back," he said. "That's why I waited. I knew that theplane couldn't be going to America. In fact, I still don't believe thatthere was any plane or airport or anything. I think it was all sometrick of the Witch to confuse us. Planes simply cannot exist in Oz.Transportation is either by foot or via some magical contrivance such asthe animated Gump or the famous Red Wagon."
"Well, I hate to disappoint you," replied Graham, waving the bundle ofletters, photographs, and drawings in his hand. "But where do you thinkthese came from if the whole thing was some kind of hallucination? Andhow could I read German words if the words weren't in my consciousnessto begin with? And I certainly couldn't have made up Shakespeare'swords."
"And I hate to disappoint YOU," answered Telly, quite tartly, "but youmight wish to look behind you."
Graham turned to look behind him to catch a glimpse of the entireairport fading away. Not only that, but the papers in his hand had alsofaded away to absolute nothingness. "Oh, no!" cried the boy. "Now I haveno proof of my experience!"
"That's because it never happened," Telly replied dryly.