by Jeff Dixon
“Why?”
“Simple, really. He was a part of the original design group that created what you see here, alongside Roy and his team.” Farren pointed to the screen. The image then changed to the present-day resort. “It is easy to see how much things have changed, but . . .”
“But?”
“Stay with me here. . . . I have always wondered if some of the changes had a deeper meaning or purpose. I knew that, in order to create the elaborate scenario and structure you would need to become the keeper of the kingdom, I would have to get very creative. Clues hidden in plain sight, technology, things that had to be built. If George had something you were one day supposed to find, he would have to do the same thing.”
“That makes sense . . . I guess.” Hawk was locked in, trying to track alongside of Farren’s trail of thought.
“So what if some of the changes were done for a specific purpose? What if George did the same things I did . . . hid clues in the details of the park? From time to time, they would need to be changed or updated as time or other things demanded.”
Hawk looked closely at the differences in Fantasyland in the Magic Kingdom. The 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea attraction had disappeared years ago. Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride had been revamped for Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. Inside the new attraction hung a portrait of Toad passing the deed to the property to Owl. Eventually, all of Fantasyland had gone through the biggest expansion in company history as new attractions, restaurants, shops, and details were added. He could see clearly in the snapshots of his mind the “Hidden Nautilus” that was carved into the rocks as a tribute to the old submarine ride. Could the changes mean more than just making things better for the guests? “What things demanded the changes?”
“Specifically, villains. People who were trying to find what was intended by Walt and Roy for you to find one day. George was very influential in development circles. As a matter of fact, he may have been the major reason that an entire area of the park was never developed.”
Hawk straightened up and wrinkled his forehead. Glancing back at the screen, he swept off the dust in his mental library of Disney knowledge, trying to remember the projects that had died as unfinished dreams. “Which area are you talking about?”
“There was supposed to be a place called Thunder Mesa and the Western River Expedition. It was heavily advertised and promised to be in development.”
“I’ve heard of it.” Hawk could see the images of the attraction playing like a slide show in his mind. He was disappointed he hadn’t remembered it before Rales mentioned it.
“Of course you have. Every Disney fanatic who really knows his history knows of it. People have always hoped one day to see it, but they never will.”
“They might.” Hawk bristled. He had the authority to put such projects into motion. His reaction surprised even him. He didn’t like Farren stating something was impossible. It wasn’t like him.
“No, they won’t,” Farren again stated firmly.
“Why?” Hawk had an icy edge to his voice that he hadn’t intended.
“Officially, it would cost too much . . . but we have never had an idea so completely developed and ready to go that never happened. There were always rumors as to why it was never built, and there are other strange things that happened as well. But I tell you to help you understand that George was not just any Imagineer. He could envision things the rest of us could not.”
Hawk was lost. He didn’t know where Farren was trying to get him to go. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Exhaling loudly, he tried to slow his whirring mind to figure out what improvements to the resort had to do with an old Imagineer and him. There was some new mystery to solve, and Farren had him reeling over a project that had been kicked off the drawing board years ago. An old idea was not going to help him find what he needed to find now. Or was it? Urgency crept in from the edges of his mind. Walt Disney’s kingdom might be at risk—the kingdom he was supposed to protect—and some very nasty people wanted the key to the kingdom immediately.
“How many things have been updated and remodeled since you became the keeper of the kingdom?” Farren asked suddenly.
“I don’t know . . . a lot.” Hawk shrugged at the unexpected question.
“And how many of those have you been a part of planning?”
“Some, but usually I’m just signing off on them.”
“And where do those ideas come from that you are just signing off on?”
“From various departments within the company, driven by their desire to create a better guest experience—and of course there are always economic factors.”
“That makes sense,” Farren confirmed. “But you haven’t really gotten too involved in that process. I would suggest to you that some of the changes and improvements might be happening to protect and preserve the company, and to stay one step ahead of those who have been trying since 1971 to control this place—and the same villains are trying to take the key you have been given as well. I would submit to you that what is happening is very serious. Make sure you know who you can trust, and don’t assume that any place is out of these villains’ reach. Even this place.”
Hawk watched Farren gesture across the bunker for emphasis. He then flashed back to the face in the Hall of Presidents from the previous day. Those he was close to all agreed that once again someone was trying to make a play to take control from Hawk. Even George has sensed it and hinted at it, choosing this time to introduce himself to Hawk. George had told him to unlock what never was, to protect what is yet to be, as if there was some danger and urgency beyond just the control of the company.
“So for all of these years, George has been working behind the scenes, almost like a ghost . . . to influence the changes necessary to protect something that Walt and Roy had given him?” Hawk closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Attractions and areas may have been refurbished if something hidden there was discovered or someone was getting close to figuring it out?”
“Exactly.” Rales smiled at Hawk’s conclusion. “At least that is what I think. The G.C. that I knew would do that.”
“Did you call him G.C.?”
“Yes, G.C. was the name his friends called him . . . why?”
“The initials G.C. were carved at the base of George’s Tower in the Pirates of the Caribbean.”
“As I told you, George is very much a ghost . . . mysterious, unseen, and yet . . . he seems to be doing things that are hard to explain . . . if I am right about how much influence he might have had through the years.”
“I don’t know, Farren, that all seems like a far stretch . . .”
“Really?” Farren cocked his head. “This, coming from a preacher who suddenly is the one person who knows Walt Disney’s greatest secret.” Farren pointed at the silver cryogenic chamber.
Hawk followed his motion and looked toward the chamber, then slowly turned back toward Rales. “Maybe I don’t know Walt’s greatest secret . . . and maybe you don’t either, from what you are saying.”
“Then it appears, my friend, that you have an even bigger mystery to solve.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
* * *
THE PARKING LOT OF THE CELEBRATION Community Church was filled to capacity. Grayson Hawkes had to park on a side street to make it inside this church that had become increasingly popular in the Disney-created community. This small town, created as an experimental community, was now struggling with the same issues all towns face when dealing with the pressure of expansion in a popular, developing area. The church had become an anchor point for many families. Hawk, Jonathan, Juliette, and Shep had helped to lead the church to become that kind of ministry. Although the church was thriving, there still was a great transition going on as the responsibilities of the ministers and their day-to-day involvement had shifted over the past eighteen months.
Stepping into the lobby of the worship center, Hawk could hear the voices of those already inside waiting for the evening’s worship to b
egin. He could feel the anticipatory buzz in the air. For Hawk that feeling was satisfying; he had tried to lead people into anticipating what can happen when you worship. He had communicated with passion that what you experience in a church environment is a choice. If you come with an expectation to encounter Jesus, then you will encounter Jesus.
People waved as they recognized the pastor entering the building. Instantly, it felt as if the anticipation increased as word began to spread that this evening was the designated service for Hawk to preach. The church policy was not to announce who the speaker would be at any particular service. Whether it was the best policy was not yet clear, because the church constantly took calls asking whether the chief creative architect of the Disney Company was the featured teacher on that night. Glenn Rogers, the church administrator who had been called to fill many of the leadership needs that arose in the aftermath of the staffing changes, walked across the lobby and caught Hawk’s attention.
“I managed to get the camera crew squared away,” Glenn stated with a smile.
“Camera crew?”
“Total Access?” Glenn’s smile faltered as though he sensed he’d caught Hawk by surprise.
“Ah, yes . . . Total Access. Sorry, I had my mind on other things today. Are they tucked away where they won’t be a distraction?”
“They are. I gave them the ground rules of what we expect and how our focus is on celebrating the Savior. I believe they will honor what we have asked.”
“Thanks, Glenn.” Hawk patted Glenn on the back as he moved away.
Glenn had done an amazing job in an almost impossible situation, helping the ministry move forward despite the changes that had suddenly unfolded. What had happened to Hawk had impacted the lives of so many. No matter how much he had tried to smooth the transition, there was no way to protect people from the consequences of the unexpected shift of the staff’s lifestyle.
Hawk drifted into the hallway where his old office was located. Just past his old door was a conference room where he had asked everyone to meet him before the service started. Pushing the door open, he was greeted by Shep, Juliette, and Juliette’s husband, Tim Keaton.
“There he is . . . the big cheese himself.” Tim rose to embrace his friend.
“How you been, Tim?” Hawk looked at his buddy. “Long time since I’ve seen you.”
“My boss has been working me too hard,” Tim joked. Hawk knew he was kidding because Tim loved the direction, creativity, and freedom he had in his job. He had expressed it many times.
“If I see him, I’ll let him know.” Hawk smiled and took a seat.
“Did you bring the picture?” Shep cut right to the topic at hand.
“I did.” Hawk slid the picture across the table.
“Did Farren have anything that might help us?” Juliette took another look at the picture as it was placed in front of Shep.
“No, he really didn’t, but he had a lot to tell me about our ghost, George.”
“You can tell us about that later.” Juliette cut her eyes toward Shep. “It might scare you-know-who.”
“Not funny!” Shep snatched up the picture and looked at it closely. “Well, Farren might not have had any info, but I found out a few things.”
“Do tell.” Hawk leaned forward.
“I found a copy of this picture online. It’s a part of the State of Florida Division of Library and Services archive. It’s called the Florida Memory Project. It doesn’t tell us any more about the picture, but it’s a part of the state historical archive.”
“And that is important why?” Juliette asked.
“Because it lets us know the picture was taken somewhere here in Florida.”
“Hey, that makes sense. Good work,” Hawk complimented.
“Hang on, boss, there’s more.” Shep tapped his fingers on the table, creating a drum roll. “The picture is of Walt Disney’s aunt Jessie and his cousin Irene from his mom’s side of the family. Flora Disney, Walt’s mom, moved from Kansas to Florida when her family relocated here. Apparently there was a young man who was interested in Flora. He moved to Florida with his family at the very same time and became a citrus farmer.”
“Was that young man named Elias?” Hawk took the picture back from Shep.
“You guessed it. Kepple Disney moved his family here as well. Kepple’s son, Elias, married Flora here in Florida on January 1, 1888.”
“That’s a nice way to start a new year.” Tim Keaton leaned in to get a better look at the picture.
“They were married in Kismet, which is right next to Acron, which means nothing to me since this is nothing but a lost piece of history. A real ghost town.”
“Another ghost?” Juliette smirked.
“I said ghost town.” Shep curled his lip. “But Walt’s parents were married here in Florida. Eventually they would move away, but Flora’s parents and a lot of their family remained close.”
Hawk’s mind started to churn the information. He gestured for Shep to hurry up with the rest of the information.
Shep nodded and cleared his throat. “It appears that the Disney children would come down and spend some time each summer with their Aunt Jessie and her husband, Albert. Walt and Roy grew up spending their summers right here in Florida.”
“How far from here did they live?”
“Best I can guess?” Shep placed a finger alongside his temple and tapped lightly. “Forty or fifty miles north of here.”
“But the town they were married in is gone.” Tim restated.
“Yes, but a very small community is still there, off the beaten path, a real undeveloped area of the state. Today it’s known as Paisley, Florida,” Shep added.
“So, realistically,” Hawk thought aloud, “all of those stories about Walt searching for an East Coast location were probably made a little less complicated because he had some fairly solid Florida roots, actually Central Florida roots.”
“That kind of changes some of the official story about how Project Florida came to be, doesn’t it?” Juliette looked at Hawk as she asked.
“A bit. It’s an added chapter of the history that most people don’t remember.” Hawk was intrigued. “Shep, are any of the family still living up near . . . what was the name of the ghost town?”
“Kismet . . . and no. At least, I couldn’t find any using the search tools I had access to online.”
“So I can’t go talk with any of them, then.” Hawk shrugged. “But according to the note on the back of the picture, ‘Aunt Jessie has a special delivery. Walt’s grandparents are trying to Call you . . . go back to his roots to find your way.’ What do I do with that?”
“I don’t know what you do with it, but let me tell you the rest.” Shep slid forward to the edge of his chair. “Walt’s Aunt Jessie was Flora’s sister. She inherited a job from her husband, Albert Perkins, after he passed away.”
“A job?”
“Aunt Jessie was the postmaster of Paisley, Florida.”
“Who better to get a special delivery from than the postmaster?” Juliette stood, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
“That’s what I thought.” A satisfied grin crossed Shep’s face. “And although I couldn’t find any information about the family still being around, I did find information about where some of the family is located.”
“Come on, Shep . . . what does that mean?” Hawk leaned forward, placing both elbows on the table with his hands tightly clasped together.
“The cemetery.” Shep slammed his fist down dramatically on the table. “What I did find is that some of the family is buried in an old cemetery called Ponceannah, near the town of Paisley, Florida.”
“I can’t go talk to someone in a cemetery or pick up a special delivery there . . .” Hawk was trying to piece together information. “Can I?”
“Well, I guess I should tell you one more thing that might help a bit,” Shep said, in a quiet voice. “Do you know what Walt’s grandparents were named?”
“No, but you’re going to
tell me, aren’t you?” Hawk looked directly at Shep.
The door burst open, and Jonathan entered the room. All eyes turned toward him. He looked at each of them, his expression growing serious, and closed the door behind him. “Did I interrupt something? What did I miss?”
“I’ll catch you up on all the details later,” Juliette answered. She turned back to Shep. “Continue.”
“As I was saying, Walt Disney’s grandparents on his mother’s side were Charles and Henrietta Call.”
The names hung in the room. Smiles began to break out on each face as this next piece of information clicked into place. Hawk noticed Jonathan looking from person to person, so he summarized the other pieces for him.
“So Walt Disney’s Aunt Jessie, who was the postmaster in Paisley, Florida has a special delivery for me. Walt’s grandparents on his mother’s side of the family are trying to Call me. In the note, the C in Call was capitalized, and their last name was Call. Charles and Henrietta are trying to Call me. And I have to get back to his roots to find my way.” Hawk reached out and shook Shep’s hand. “You, my friend, are awesome. Give you a computer, and you are a genius. All I need to do is figure out what getting back to the roots means and we have this figured out.”
“Hold on.” Jonathan held up his palm. “Based on past experience, I would venture to say we haven’t figured out anything yet. This may just be a start to a far more complicated scenario. Remember, you promised to give the picture to Al.”
“I’ll give it to him tonight, if he’s here,” Hawk promised.
“He is. I just saw him come in,” Jonathan replied. “But you didn’t warn me about the television crew.”
“I didn’t remember, to tell you the truth.” Hawk shrugged.
“Well, I wish you would have. I hate being on television with this Band-Aid still on my head.” Jonathan smiled as he touched the bandage they had given him a hard time about the day before.
