UNITED STATES—Mussolini–you could see as a human being, and what chutzpah he had-–the value Graydon valued almost as much as kindness—Mussolini had the audacity to conquer northern Africa. Hitler, on the other hand, was something else altogether, as Graydon had learned from Karl Gustav Jung, the Swiss protégé of Sigmund Freud. Jung crossed paths with both leaders, and he averred Mr. Hitler was an expressionless mask whose humanity had retreated into a tiny gland that interfered as little as possible with the operation of the robot outside.
There was something utterly chilling about this robot. Much as Graydon enjoyed a complete severance with the Hitler model, he did share one trait: an artist spurned. It was so petty, really, but he had been fully expecting to be awarded a grant from the City of Los Angeles for underrecognized artists in mid-career. He was a shoo-in, as they say, being recognized by the distinguished figure in American Letters, who had always recognized and kindled Graydon’s genius when Graydon himself had gravest doubts, leaving him with the great lesson, “Don’t ever be down on yourself” to buoy himself in those times of doubt, and distress, there were more than a few. It comes with the territory in a land that so often measure success with money over love, thus creating the toxic but distinguished trait of money love.
“I find writers to be generally docile.” Bernie Lukasey, the diabolically gifted adman wiz, confided to the President when he was in New York, the president of Columbia at a cocktail party, that is not the country, but the American university where General Krautheimer presided. There five-star General Krautheimer got to first wax presidential, training wheels for the White House, and Bernie was at the ready with a slogan “I like Ike” already concocted when the right time came: “They are unusually receptive to praise and lucrative offers—not so General Krautheimer.”
According to Lukasey’s diary, the great persuader almost tore his hair out over to the General’s reluctance to sign off on the slogan. “I began to doubt my own talents,” Lukasey confided to himself.
The mist and rays through the forest, between branches of the fir trees as Graydon Miller was leaving Boston and flying to New York, after researching some of the Lukasey papers at Harvard. How must it feel to have so much sway he wondered, Graydon wondered. Surely you must feel like God? Graydon Miller now knew better, he had just read another diary entry by Bernard Lukasey, an anthem to the joys of family. A husband who feels he has never done quite enough for his wife and daughters. I gave my life and surrendered my ethics to my clients. Then, there it was, ‘I met a hot shot from Madison Avenue today, and he was all ego at the edge of desperation, not possessing the imagined success he thought to possess and given to audio hallucinations, whereby he had processed my statements as what he believed I had said (a clear case of wishful hearing).
Whoa, hold your horses, Bernie said, you must be as a molecule to be godlike, celebrate that you are dust, and I have sought godliness only in relation to my clients, I must look through walls, see through to essences. The spark for my endeavor was to take my Uncle’s theories, he was a medical doctor, a man rooted science, but leap-frogged way forward to poetry go before the contemporary science in his theories. Science would have to build a bridge to Sigmund Freud. No wonder he was so hated, so misunderstood.
He was public enemy number one when he boarded the airlift to England. And my innovation, if we can call it that, would have been to take Uncle’s hunches and make it a real moneymaker. You must be shameless in your profession, in service to your clients, and then go home. Love your family, take care of your people. Now get out of my face. I see the shock. You had an audio hallucination. I wish you luck and grace whoever the hell you are sticking your nose in my secret, private diaries.
To be continued…
