Charly Chronicles II
by Bob Hall
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Charly Chronicles II
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by Bob Hall
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More Stories About Guys I've Known Named Charly
(or Charlie, Charley, Charles, Chuck, Chaz, or Chick)
This is about the bravest Charly I've known. His name was Eddy. (Wait for it -- all will become clear.) When I was twelve he was my best friend, a big scrappy kid from Texas who showed up in Lincoln, Nebraska with ambitions beyond those of most sixth-graders. He was the only guy I knew with a girl friend, a baton twirler and acrobatic dancer whom he claimed to have actually kissed.
My mother labeled Eddy a bad influence because he liked to fight and -- even worse -- he liked to dream. Eddy wanted to travel, working his way around the world as soon as he was old enough. Seemed possible. Hell, he'd already been to Texas. He wanted me to go with him when we graduated from high school, maybe even before. It was a grade-school dream, but one which did not amuse my Mom. I was to be the first person in my family to attend college, after which I would settle down in Nebraska for the rest of my life. Dad secretly counseled me to go as far away as possible (I have tried my best to follow his advice). Both my parents, however, found Eddy a subversive influence and asked that I spend less time with him. There was an undertone to their objections that I never quite fathomed and they never chose to explain.
I tried to explain to Eddy why I had to wait till after college to have adventures. He would shake his head, knowing it was fear that kept me from dreaming. I would deny it. Then we would both get mad, kicking and punching each other in pre-adolescent frustration. Eddy would usually win. He was bigger than me -- and he was fearless. Then, much to my parent's relief, Eddy and family moved back to Texas. He wrote a few times but eventually we lost touch.
When I was older and starting college in Nebraska, I would wonder if Eddy was out there hitching round the world. He wasn't. When he resurfaced in the fall of 1963, it was evident that Eddy had undertaken an altogether more difficult and far reaching journey.
I spotted him in the student union cafeteria line wearing a fluffy blue woman's coat secured by a bow of scarlet silk. His black hair was dyed the color of a Florida orange. Red-faced farm kids stared in disbelief as Eddy's hips mocked midwestern femininity. His high-pitched voice and limp gestures confounded and offended a room filled with Hulk-like football players.
"Jesus, Eddy? Is that you?"
"I'm not Eddy anymore, I'm Charly." (His full name had been Charles Edward.) "I'm a different person who needs a different name."
Charly was the first person I knew to burst out of the closet, thumbing his nose flamboyantly at the midwest's "Back to the Bible" morality. He defined his own brand of gayness without apology. But to display alternate sexuality was neither cool nor safe in that time and society. Charly's demeanor, down to the way he carried his books, invited derision and isolation. Even the gay community, teetering on the edge of acceptance, found him dangerous. Eddy, however, persevered on the only road he could now travel, driven by personal and political demons to make a public statement defining his identity.
Obviously, Charly was the object of abuse, both verbal and (I suspect) physical. I hope to hell I never mocked him. In fact I probably defended his right to be different, in my best self-righteous, liberal terms. But I was too chickenshit to be his friend. I was, like most everyone else, ashamed to be seen much with Charly -- afraid girls would think I was "that way" and that I'd be thwarted in my Major College Ambition (getting laid).
I never asked about Charly's physical and spiritual journey. He'd changed and I didn't want to know the whys and wherefores. Pretty dumb, particularly from someone who writes and draws stories about the nature of courage. To be that gloriously, outrageously different -- in Lincoln, Nebraska -- in 1963 -- took more guts than I have ever been required to muster.
After a year or so, Charly disappeared from Lincoln. If there's any justice, he made it to one of those exotic places of our twelve-year-old dreams. There's no doubt Charly undertook dangerous journeys of some kind. He had the heart for adventure.
Wherever you are, Charles, you're one of the brave ones.
# # #
from Armed and Dangerous Arc2 Issue 2
published by Acclaim Comics, Inc.