by David Smith
Later, after the shock of discovering his father dead, Nathan found something very mysterious: Even before he could run to call for help, an ambulance had come onto the scene, its siren filling the air and dust from its approach to the job site kicked up behind its rear tires. It would be two years later before Nathan would learn the nature of the phantom emergency call that had reached the police operator twenty minutes prior to Nathan discovering his dead father.
The discovery of who made the call would have an effect on Nathan’s future.
It was six in the morning by the time Nathan got the motorized cherry picker into place. He had to drive the vehicle very carefully around the service road that surrounds parts of Disneyland. The long, extended folding arm of the picker was still over twenty feet long, even folded up on itself. Positioning the vehicle behind the Fire Station on Main Street, Nathan set the support legs out, checking to see that the vehicle was equally balanced now on the two stabilizing legs and the four wheels. Pulling four bright orange traffic cones from inside the cherry picker basket, Nathan placed them in a semi-circle around the side of the cherry picker as a warning to anyone who might come near. He then locked the wheels in place and looked up at the offending branches that he was scheduled to trim back.
Among the original trees that survived the excavation of Disneyland in early 1954, these sturdy eucalyptus trees were the tallest trees in the Park. They served as a natural back drop separating the west side of Main Street from the neighboring trees and shrubs that surrounded Adventureland, and more specifically, the Jungle Cruise attraction whose Amazon-like jungle scenes were actually located only seventy-five feet beyond the backside of Main Street, U.S.A. It was lucky that the trees were not bulldozed when Disneyland was being built. During early excavation, the trees that were to be removed from the construction site were tagged with green ribbons and those that were to be saved were tagged with red. The problem, as fate would have it, was that the bulldozer driver hired to remove the green tagged trees was color blind! Almost all the trees that were to be saved were removed with the rest. The large eucalyptus trees, luckily, were not tagged at all and thus survived one of many calamities during the construction phase of Disneyland.
As Nathan got into the two-foot square basket at the end of the hydraulic arm of the cherry picker, he could see the sun was just cresting over the east side of the Main Street buildings. The crimson glow of sunrise created a striking contrasting silhouette of the outline of the buildings on the far side of the street against the brightening sky. Nathan, having loaded the cherry picker basket with several hand saws, pruning shears, and gloves, stepped in the basket, connected the safety chain across the opening, and then proceeded to toggle the “up” lever on the small control panel, activating the hydraulics.
With his back now turned to the backside of the Fire Station and Main Street, but only a few yards from the back of the brick building, Nathan adjusted the height of the basket to reach the eucalyptus tree branches that had grown outward and were now rubbing against the back of the building.
Using a freshly sharpened handsaw, Nathan began cutting through the first branches. Looking down and making sure no one was below him, he let the branches fall freely to the ground around the base of the cherry picker within the cordoned area defined by the cones he had set out around the lift. As he reached a more substantial branch above him, he first adjusted the height of the basket then turned around himself so he had a better angle on the protruding limb.
As Nathan cut through the branch, he had a view looking into the windows on the second floor above the Fire Station. Looking beyond the covered patio to his right, Nathan could see a window on one side of the patio where white-washed lattice work provided shade for the patio and the bamboo-wicker constructed patio furniture. To the left of the patio and directly in front of Nathan, there was another, similar window, just on the other side of the extending patio platform, near the corner of the building.
Cutting away on the tree branch, Nathan caught a glimpse of movement inside this corner window. His position was higher than the second floor window but he clearly saw the movements of a pair of feet moving inside the room. Suddenly, it dawned on Nathan, that he was looking inside Walt Disney’s personal apartment. The second floor above the Fire Station was a smallish, one-room apartment that Walt, and sometimes his wife Lilly, stayed in when on the property. Curious, as he had never met Walt personally, Nathan lowered the basket enough to see better inside the window.
From this vantage point, Nathan could now see someone who he recognized as Walt Disney, holding something up under the light of the now incoming sunlight through the eastern facing windows that lined the front of the building. While Walt’s back was turned towards the window Nathan was looking through, he could see that in Walt’s hand was a necklace of some sort; a large red gemstone surrounded by gold that was hanging, and swinging slightly back and forth. With his other hand, Walt then grasped the red pendant, holding the stone now in the palm of his hand. Nathan was shocked to see Walt suddenly rock back and forth on his heels, almost looking like he was going to fall over. Quickly moving his hand to the controls, Nathan was about to position the basket over towards the short wall of the patio. Thinking that Walt was going to faint, it looked to Nathan that Mr. Disney might hurt himself. However, a moment later, Nathan watched Walt’s hand release the pendant, the red gemstone now swinging freely in his other hand. Walt looked like he was digesting something, standing there just looking at the pendant. A small, reluctant smile creased Disney’s lips as deep lines in his face became more pronounced. Suddenly, Nathan watched Walt Disney as he became consumed by a deep coughing fit, his free hand making a fist and pounding it against his chest for a moment.
Shaking off the fit, Walt turned his side to the back window Nathan was peering in from and walked toward the middle of the apartment. Nathan quickly lowered his basket so he could see what Walt was doing. Through the window, Nathan now spied Walt walking to a large antiquated gramophone, which was sitting on a squat table next to wing-backed chair and a short, burgundy couch. Walt reached for the gramophone; it was obviously an antique with its olive-green cone-shaped speaker and black, intricate-looking player on top. Extending a finger above the machine, Walt pushed what looked like a hidden button on top of the device which suddenly released a door that Nathan could see pop open on the side of the wooden base. Walt pulled out a small drawer inside the open door, removing some sort of black bag. Nathan watched Walt deposit the pendant inside the bag, leading the long snake-like chain into the small opening then cinching the drawstring at the top closed. Walt then carefully put the bag back into the drawer before pushing it back into place. Walt then pushed the secret door on the side of the gramophone closed.
Before he could be seen spying on Walt, Nathan raised the basket back up to the branch he had been working on and started cutting on the branch without much interest in it. Nathan was thinking about what he had seen.
From his position, Nathan heard the side door of the apartment open, then close shut. Standing in the cherry picker basket now positioned higher, he assumed Walt had left the apartment. Nathan could not see his exit as the door was located on the side of the building around the corner from where Nathan was positioned. Nathan remembered seeing the flight of stairs on the side of the building before; he now assumed that Walt had taken the stairs and left the building, heading presumably to some other location in his Park. After a moment, Nathan lowered the basket again and peered back in through the window. The apartment was now empty, as far as Nathan could tell. He gazed through the window at the antique gramophone that Walt had put the pendant inside, wondering, and thinking.
Nathan could tell that whatever that pendant was, it must be something of value.
Something of GREAT value.
“What Walt Disney seemed to know was that while there is very little grown-up in a child, there is a lot of child in every grown-up. To a child, this weary world is brand new, gift wrapped;
Disney tried to keep it that way for adults…”
Eric Sevareid, CBS Evening News, Dec. 1966
CHAPTER 3
Showtime
Friday, June 23rd, 2010
10:28pm
Los Angeles, California
“Thank you, Los Angeles! I love you!”
Malaysia Hosner raised her slender arms over her head; delicate strands of loosely curled blonde hair cascaded down the sides of her face and spilled over her shoulders. From the wide stage, Malaysia waved to the crowd of hundreds standing below her and thousands more that were standing across the expanse of the open-air theater; a broad smile creased her full lips as she beamed sincere warmth for those whom she had just performed. Her encore song, “Falling Hard” had the crowd at the picturesque Hollywood Bowl rocking in aisles and singing the words with her. The new fans of the Swiss pop star didn’t want to let her go.
“Ma-lay-sia, Ma-lay-sia,” the crowd chanted, the throng calling her name out in unison—similar as to when they were singing along with the songs Malaysia sang during her show. Malaysia now stood in the middle of her seven-piece band as they formed a chorus line along the front of the stage. Arms around each other’s waists, they took a simultaneous bow, followed by one last arm wave by Malaysia as the group trotted off the stage.
The twenty-one year old singer and songwriter had recently become almost a household name in the United States over the past eight months, first appearing—and almost instantly going viral—on YouTube with songs she had written and sung with her acoustic guitar and the Swiss Alps as a backdrop. Possessing a vocal quality of Karen Carpenter and the range of Pat Benatar, Malaysia Hosner had a unique blend of talent, songwriting ability and stage presence—and a voice that was as distinctive as it was melodious. It didn’t hurt that the blonde had strikingly stunning European looks: flawless, light complexion that would have made her famous as a skin care model had she not made it as a singer, and legs and a figure that ice skaters and tennis players could envy. Her outfit, a flirty denim skirt and layered camisole top, clung to her slender, yet curvy figure. It was a perfect fit to her style and flair as well as complementing the songs she wrote and sang.
Malaysia was not afraid of the spotlight when it was on her while performing and she seemed to know how to use her God-given attributes to her advantage—without appearing hard core or overtly sexy. In fact, her whole image was sincere and innocent, a perception that made her that much more appealing to both men and women, and even boys and girls. Parents could be seen in the audience with teens as well as preteen kids.
First picking up fans in Europe, Malaysia’s popularity skyrocketed after winning Germany’s Got Talent and then signing a record deal with the top European producer, selling over one million copies of her second CD, “Coins in My Fountain” in less than six months.
Eventually, the crowd realized that Malaysia was not coming out for a second encore and the typical southern California concert crowd quickly lost patience and filed out of the amphitheater under the clear, moonless nighttime sky. Most were heading off to post-concert parties, nightclubs or other weekend evening activities. A warm Santa Ana breeze lingered as the temperature was a balmy eighty-one degrees at 10:30 in the evening; early by southern California clock-watchers.
As always, everyone had somewhere else to go.
Listening from just inside her dressing room, Malaysia could hear the voices in the Green Room, just beyond her dressing room door and down the hall, voices that were clearly animated and lively. Opening her door, she peered out the crack and saw that the couple dozen people in the performer’s lounge were talking in several groups; her band members, her promoter, theater managers, press, and others were tossing back pretzels and Diet Cokes while talking about the show, and talking about Malaysia Hosner’s brilliant future that was suddenly at hand.
Leaving her dressing room, Malaysia softly pulled the door closed as she backed out of the room. She had just changed out of her performance clothes and into comfortable jeans and an open-neck, beige sweater. As her dressing room door closed, she looked up at the sequined, decorated star tacked up on the door that shimmered when the door latched shut.
Malaysia took a deep breath, steadied herself for the post-concert interviews and mingling that came with her new-found stardom. This was one aspect of being famous that Malaysia regretted; it was not getting any easier, she thought to herself, thinking back to what her publicist had said about the attention she would be getting. “Oh, you will get used to it,” Malaysia remembered hearing Genevieve Schroder, now her tour manager and promoter, say that to her several months earlier.
No, Malaysia was not getting used to it.
Malaysia came from a small family with no previous fame ever written in her family history. Her mom, Savannah, was an elementary school teacher in their home town of Belp, the small airport-city just south of Bern, the capital of Switzerland. Her father, Adrien, a telecommunications engineer, worked in the industrial center near the main airport that serves Bern and the other surrounding cities.
Malaysia was born with the name, Johanna Hosiner, Hosiner with an “i”, and showed early singing talent at family dinners and holiday events. At fourteen years of age, Johanna insisted on attending the Verbier Art’s Festival in the Swiss Alps parish of Val de Bagnes, where she played two of her own songs at the prestigious music festival and was immediately recognized for her songwriting and performance aptitude with a Blue Ribbon and a First Place silver cup for Best New Artist. She had an uncanny ability to write dynamic, emotional songs, seemingly far more mature than her chronological age at the time would suggest possible. At fifteen, Johanna recorded her first album, a set of twelve songs with seasoned musicians backing her up in the studio. One of the songs, “Star Chasing,” became a huge Internet hit and her first album, “Heart Wide Open,” gained her international recognition when it became one of the best selling albums on several “home-grown” internet sites selling independent music. The album’s title track got serious air time on radio stations in most major European cities and was now making the rounds on American Pop Radio stations.
Using music as a more effective teacher than those in school, Malaysia learned English through lyrics and melodies better than she did using worksheets or hearing lectures about syntax, grammar, and parts-of-speech. She communicated with her band, her manager, and her sister Laura, in English most of the time. While she had a distinct European accent, one that gave her music distinctive tone and appeal, Malaysia could temper her inflection to be less conspicuous when she wanted.
Listening to American pop stars like Miley Cyrus of Disney fame and Taylor Swift, Johanna wanted to change her name to something with a bit more pop. A name came to her during her senior year of school when she wrote a report about the country of Malaysia, and more specifically, the Petronas Twin Towers that were completed in 1998. As the country with the tallest man-made structures in the world at the time, Johanna thought the name “Malaysia” would be a cool, pop-sounding name, even as her parents questioned the possible popularity such a name might breed. To them, it didn’t sound like a pop-star’s name. Yet, Johanna knew what she wanted and, like her music, knew what she liked. So far, what she seemed to like, in the way of music, seemed to have broad appeal and recognition. She believed her new name would become synonymous with her music. As with so many famous people and places, Malaysia—the singer—knew that it wasn’t the name that made the person or destination, it was the person or place that made the name. In Europe and now the United States, hearing the name Malaysia no longer made people think of the country by the same name; they thought of the stunning blonde who was making a serious mark in the international world of music. While many people in the U.S. might not recognize her today, anyone that hears her exquisite voice and sees her stunning looks seldom forgets that first impression.
Malaysia also dropped the ‘i’ from her last name wanting people to pronounce her last name with two syllables instead of the typical thre
e. People were always pronouncing her name as “Hos-in-er” instead of the correct “Hos-ner” which is how her family pronounced it.
A formally decorated room for celebrities as they prepared to perform and, as could be seen now, a gathering room after shows, the Green Room, was one often filled with food, flowers, and people. Before she turned to greet her post-concert onslaught of well-wishers, contest winners, and reporters, Malaysia again looked up at the decorated star that was on her dressing room door. It had her name posted from one point of the star across to the opposite, surrounded by various colored glitter. Yes, she had arrived, she thought to herself; a far cry from her life a year ago.
“Malaysia!” A group of people shouted to get her attention as she entered the Green Room from the dressing room hallway. Malaysia’s eyes scanned the room searching for the only person she had a desire to be with: her older sister Laura. Like Malaysia, Laura’s height and blonde hair made her an easy item to spot in any crowd.
“Sis,” a voice could be heard over the din of people chatting, eating and drinking. A hand shot up along the right side of the room waving back and forth. Malaysia let out a sigh seeing her sister waving at her; she realized she was holding her breath.
“Great show, Mal,” Genevieve Schroder said, intercepting Malaysia as she made her way toward her sister. In addition to being Malaysia’s promoter and tour manager, Genevieve was a self-appointed tour chaperone, even though Malaysia was a twenty-one year old adult and didn’t need—or want—someone telling her what she should or shouldn’t do. Because her parents couldn’t travel with their now-famous daughter for this trip, Genevieve had promised the Hosiner’s that she would look out for both Malaysia and her twenty-three year old sister, Laura.
