Free Lost Years by Christopher Isherwood Page B

had no time to save it by running toward the ocean, pulling the string. In less time than it takes to tell, the kite fell limply onto the power lines along the side of the highway. Then, as Christopher watched incredulously, the tail of the kite began to smoke, there was a flash, a dull puff of sound, like air being expelled, and two of the cables parted and fell across the road. (No doubt they were spitting sparks, but Christopher couldn’t see this from where he stood.) Cars which happened to be passing swerved wildly. Brakes squealed. Luckily, there were no collisions. The accident, though minor, was awe inspiring. It belonged in the category of disasters and was as disconcerting to watch, on its own tiny scale, as the air raids Christopher had seen in China. You felt that the order of things was being upset. (And indeed, as Christopher heard later, the electric power was cut off throughout the neighborhood.)
    Bill Harris was so horrified that he simply ran away, fearing arrest, Christopher didn’t resent this; it rather flattered his own vanity that he was left to play the man while Bill panicked like a girl. And he knew Bill would admire him for his behavior, later. Christopher was a bit scared, of course; he fully expected to be arrested. But he was also shrewd enough to know that nothing very bad would happen to him, provided that he admitted his responsibility without delay.
    Meanwhile, a crowd had gathered and the police had arrived. But the police merely took charge of the traffic; they didn’t attempt to find out who the culprit was. Christopher joined the crowd. Several people in it had undoubtedly seen him flying the kite. Christopher made up his mind to keep quiet for the time being and wait until questions were asked. But nobody asked any questions.
    Then the repair truck arrived. The repair men asked no questions, either. But one of them said: “Whoever was flying that kite, he sure as hell was lucky”—and went on to explain that, if the kite string had been wet, the person holding it would have been electrocuted. The short circuit had been caused by the tinsel ornaments in the kite tail.
    Christopher later used this incident in
The World in the Evening
. 9
    Day-to-day diary, January 20: “Supper with Carter (Lodge), Don Forbes, Dave Eberhardt [ 10 ] and Chip. [ 11 ] ” I think Chip was a boyfriend of Carter Lodge. He may well be the boy about whom I dimly remember the following story: When the boy was young, his parents were alarmed because he was so effeminate and they felt sure he would turn out to be homosexual when he grew up; he also had a wretched physique. They consulted a doctor, who advised some sort of hormone treatment. The treatment produced dramatic results; the boy became a virile youth without a trace of effeminacy, with a powerful well-made body and masculine good looks—a well-adjusted, one hundred percent homosexual.
    Don Forbes was a newscaster on radio; I think his program was sponsored by Richfield Oil. He was quite a star in the news world—maybe he had done some reporting from the battlefronts. I remember being amused by a photograph of him, enshrined like an oracle amidst flags, bursting shells, whizzing planes and bombarding warships. He was handsome, temperamental and very much of an actor.
    Dave Eberhardt was [. . .] just discharged from the navy—a pale husky joli
laid
with a crew cut. Soon after Dave and Christopher met, Dave told Christopher that he found him “powerfully attractive.” Christopher reciprocated more than sufficiently, and they would neck whenever they were alone together, sometimes for long spells. Since they always had to do this at the apartment which Don and Dave shared—because Christopher was still living at the Vedanta Center—they never went to bed together, however; Dave thought it was too risky. When they did finally make love, years later, at the AJC Ranch, I seem to remember that it wasn’t