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.”
