Still On The Road to Firenze, Yet Getting Closer – Next Stop Highgate
While my narrowboat in Little Venice was being renovated and repaired, I rented a room in the Highgate Home of the wonderfully clever and hugely unconventional, Wendy Boorer. A breeder of assorted parrots, Bearded Collies and Affenpinschers, Wendy was a part-time consultant at Walker Books in the field of dogs, birds and other amazing creatures.
I enjoyed Highgate. A stone’s throw from Hampstead Heath, Wendy’s home bustled with laughter, love, music and the trials and tribulations of ‘Folly,’ her one remaining brown and white Bearded Collie.
I fell in love with Folly. And Folly fell in love with me.
Extremely well behaved and well trained, as one would expect from Wendy (something I rarely achieved with my Labrador Retrievers) Folly had underlying problems.
Not a dog psychologist, I can only guess at my final diagnosis that Folly had a few marbles missing and a few loose screws.
However, together, once a week we trekked up to the Health. Her disposition being on the nervous side, I would stop at the closest pub, order a coffee for myself and a small vodka and orange juice for my Folly.
Quickly slurping up the beverage from a large clean ashtray, followed by a chaser of pure water, Folly’s eyes brightened, her tail wagged high and with her tongue hanging out just a wee bit in glee, she ran around carefree, playful as a pup.
When we returned home, Folly snuggled up in her bed and snored away the hours, as did I.
Meantime back at Walker Books…
The Genius of Sebastian Walker
Sebastian passionately loved children’s books. He created a challenging yet brilliant game plan for success, based on three factors:
- Purchase large quantities of high-quality paper anywhere on the planet at the best prices according to the current foreign exchange.
- Create series of four books (minimum) all with educational value.
- Sell the series on the international co-edition market.
It worked!
The rapid success of Walker Books is legendary in the world of British publishing.
As our books sold in stores all over London and the UK, Europe, Scandinavia and North America, Sebastian changed gears and entered the second phase of his game plan – the seduction of the ‘crème de le crème’ of children’s books illustrators and authors.
I brushed shoulders with many, dined with others, rarely partied with the likes of John Burningham, Helen Oxenbury, Barbara Firth, Bamber and Christina Gascoigne, Lady Selena Hastings, Margaret Lane, Hugh and Mirabel Cecil, Nicola Bayley, Dame Marina Sarah Warner, the wonderfully eccentric Dame Jean Iris Murdoch DBE, who actually did wear her fluffy blue house slippers through the sidewalks of London and one of my most favorite characters, another American In London, author Russell Hoban.
Sebastian toyed with and teased their egos. He offered them opportunities other publishing companies refused to entertain.
Soon Walker Books was creating, designing and publishing beautiful and innovative novelty books, pop-up books, one-off works of fiction while at the same time, establishing more series.
It all added up to Sebastian’s formula of success.
The Italians Are Coming
By the end of 1979 just as Apocalypse Now was being touted as the best thing since bagels, lox and cream cheese, Sebastian was investing a great deal of time researching Italian printing companies.
He returned from his Italian jaunts with luscious proofs that exemplified the magnificence of their understanding, appreciation and use of the color palette.
But at the time, Italian prices were simply too extravagant for the young, budding publishing company.
Apocalypse Now, Storaro, Coppola and Michael Herr
The London release of Francis Ford Coppola’s masterpiece was fast approaching.
Not only excited by the anticipation of Vittorio Storaro’s cinematography, Amelia Santaromita Edwards (co-founder of Walker Books, art director and my mentor) was a personal friend of writer and war correspondent, Michael Herr.
Best known as the author of Dispatches, considered to be one of the most important nonfiction accounts of the Vietnam War, Michael worked with Francis Ford on writing the narration for Apocalypse Now.
I don’t claim to remember the exact date in January 1980, but I do remember the film was screened exclusively in London’s ABC Shaftesbury Theatre.
Sound
Apocalypse Now was a 70mm projection. Coppola used a groundbreaking multi-channel Dolby Stereo System.
Sitting in the movie palace, mesmerized by the beauty of Storaro’s camera, we were surrounded and held captive by helicopters, Richard Wagner, Mick Jagger and Marlon Brando.
We were among the soldiers as missiles were launched and structures destroyed. Gun fire all around us, bodies blown apart. We could not escape the madness of Coppola’s war.
Stunned by the film, Amelia and I walked in silence in the cold, wintry, London air. We flagged a black cab. I got off near Paddington Station, Amelia continued on to her Maida Vale home.
Dark Side of Little Venice, Hitchcock and Nightmares
As I walked from Paddington Station to my narrowboat moored in Little Venice, the waters were calm, the cats quiet, ducks asleep, boats barely moved in the very chilly windless night.
All I could hear was the clicking of my boots on the dark, damp canal path.
Having just left Coppola, I strolled into a meandering, unfinished Alfred Hitchcock script. I imagined Hitch would film it in black and white.
Light from the street lamps flickered on the water and between dark shadows as I heard the distant sound of someone else’s shoes.
As I walked faster, the distant clicking was fast approaching.
I arrived at my boat, hopped on, quickly unlocked the door, entered, quickly locked it and turned on the lights.
The clicking that followed me stopped.
Was it a ghost that vanished into Hitch’s script?
Or was it Hitch himself coming for a late-night visit?
All I know is, that very night, Apocalypse Now triggered a hidden, repetitive nightmare I had experienced as a youngster.
A nightmare I shared with absolutely no one.
Never. Ever.
It was my personal secret. It still is.
That nightmare proved to me the truth and reality of reincarnation.
But more of that for future blogs, for at that moment I was busy with Italian printers, artists, mentor, film makers, and an exceptional cinematographer.
Looking back into my deep memory I realize now this was all a preparation for my Firenze pilgrimage and reunion with Leonardo DaVinci.
To Be Continued…
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In