Nero with REAL pearls

Nero with Real Pearls

 I have known Henry and Jim from when we were young adults.  Henry was a transplanted southern boy who was interior designer for Ackemann’s Department store in Elgin.  Through that job he came to know many of the gay community in Elgin.  Our own friendship started with a fellow named Richard Morneault.  Rich was studying to become a paramedic ,but ,meanwhile was supporting himself doing landscaping.  One of his landscaping jobs was as groundskeeper for the estate of John Nelson, Chief of Anesthesiology at Elgin State Hospital. John had built this notable house and extensive park-like grounds south of Elgin. He and his partner Joe Lehman were big Elgin society icons . Henry was Nelson’s decorator and party planner.  He met Rich in that capacity mowing Nelson’s lawn one day, was taken by him, and had a brief fling .  Mike Geister was the heir to Geister Marine in Elgin. He met Rich through their membership in Fox Valley Gay Association, a gay social group that arranged many parties and events in the area.  I was on the board of the that group and also had had a brief fling with Rich . Mike  was the third in the chain with Rich, but he fell in love and the two made a partnership lasting to this day. Even though we shared some wild and wooly times, Henry also gave up his Wing Park “expeditions”  when he found Jim Browning, the love of his life. Jim was a financial administrator of  a string of nursing homes. From a apartment on Slade Avenue to a renovated home in a better section of Elgin, the two upscaled their life together as a couple. 

Henry. However, had wanderlust.  He wanted to move west.  He and Jim picked up, sold the house, quit jobs  and went to San Diego. It wasn’t easy at first getting established. But Southern boys don’t just have charm, they also are known for their steely resolve, and Henry, in particular,was driven to success.  They got jobs and moved to a small home in Talmadge, an older section of San Diego named after the film actress sisters who had wisely invested in real estate. Henry used his formidable  talents  and transformed  that home into a beautiful oasis. While most of the back yards of the traditionally walled neighborhood houses looked like desert junkyards (common in California), Henry and Jim had landscaped and furnished their grounds into a resort befitting a Hollywood starlet.

I made several visits to them in their new digs . I had even come out a few years before to accompany them on the hunt for a house. That is a story worth telling another time.  Anyway, on this particular visit, I, along with Geister/Morneault flew out as Henry had decided to have a “do”  melding his west coast crowd with us, his reminders of a Midwestern past.  It was a pool party and about 30 people were invited.  The day of the party a fire had started in the valley just north of them and a prevailing wind had come up, fanning it to the point it was spreading fast, consuming homes in its path.  The event was all over the news.  The next valley was 10 miles away and they were confident the fire would be contained, so the party was still on.  Guests arrived.  Of course Henry, being now the Pearl Mesta of the west,  was the impeccable host.  A highlight was this young chap whose family owned all the warehouses in New Orleans where they store the Mardio Gras floats.  Evidently a lucrative endeavor, as this fellow had never held any job and was supported in his west coast adventure by indulgent parents.  He took his self anointed “debutante” status very seriously coming to the p;arty in drag, wearing a 1050’s prom dress with elbow gloves, and, as he was very wont to inform us; “real pearls”

Henry and Jim had a large round float in their pool. It was aptly named a “fun” float.  As the day waned along with the levels in liquor bottles, the party loosened. Guys lost swim trunks,  there were “slip aways”  into bougainvillea walled shadows , and guests danced and caroused into the evening.

Failing  attention to the media as things progressed, we had all neglected to watch TV news on the progress of the fire. But now, nightfall made it  intrusively apparent as the now darkening sky was aglow with the orange of the fires silhouetting the hills separating the next valley. Not only that, but ash began to fall on us and into the pool. A gentle rain of soft gray flakes much like a winter flurry of snowflakes.  There was no talk of leaving. The music continued and the party went on . I do remember waking up in my assigned room but there was someone next to me in my single bed. I didn’t remember him nor where my swimsuit had gone.  Other guests had also found a spot to relinquish consciousness around the pool.  While Henry remained blissfully  ensconced in his Harlowesque boudoir with the blackening shades, stalwart Jim roused himself and made the stragglers and his houseguests “Huevos Rancheros” breakfast with  Bloody Mary chasers.  The “did you see so and so” and the “can you believes” were discussed with both delight and detail as all agreed it was a notable party. Memories were a bit scanty as to the latter parts of the evening.  To my mind it was a bacchanal . An exercise in delightful excess.

There was a lasting memory all had recall of . It remains indelible in my mind to this day .  The “prom queen- (with REAL pearls) “   centered on that “fun  float” in the middle of the pool as ash rained down from above.  Salvadore Dali could not have done better. We talked of that party for years.

This week I was looking as some books of personal value to write a book report on as exercise for our  “Writer Wannabe”  group.  I opened one of those old books and out fell some photographs of Henry and Jim at their Talmadge home. I had taken these on the same occasion of that famous party where Nero fiddled as Rome burned.  I scanned the old Polaroid’s and sent them email to Henry and Jim as a tug at the nostalgia cords of their souls.  Not only was Henry enchanted but it sent He and Jim on a search through long forgotten boxes to find;  “Oh My God,”  two shots of our prom queen in full glory resting as an ever- so-regal swan on the waters of the pool supported with that “fun float” covered by her bouffant dress. The only word is a big gay “fabulous.”    Henry gleefully sent the photographs back to me along with a picture of the two of us together earlier that day that he also found.

I cannot tell you how my being just lit up seeing those photos, taking me back to that careless, day of decadent wonderment. I’d do it again in a second.  Even back in those cloistered days of having to live hidden lives and deal with a plague decimating our community, we managed to carve out our space with so many rewarding  happy times . And now I have the pictures to prove it ! You know I had to include them.

Epilogue- For those that need all the ends tied up. That fire was finally controlled and burnt out before it jumped the valley separation but not before destroying about 10 homes and substantial acreage.

I lost track of Michael and Rich about 15 years ago. I last saw them at John Nelsons funeral .  Henry and Jim still reside in San Diego, now in a converted warehouse in the Hillcrest area.  Henry and Jim are retired.   Henry now has a second career as a painter .  Jim and henry  last visited me four years ago  here at the farm.  I also have one of Henry’s paintings hanging in my living room.  With Jim, two years ago they bought and refurbished a 1930’s Southbank cabin cruiser . Henry passed his pilot exam and they sailed the San Diego coast in their beloved “Loon.”