CAL-NEVA - PART 1

1984

A beat up looking rental car hurtled along Highway 28 as Johnnie & Joe’s “Over The Mountain, Across The Sea” played on the car radio. The lank haired driver checked his rear view mirror, his bloodshot eyes indicated a man who had been on the road for an unhealthy amount of time. Drawing close to the borderline, he pulled over, not far from the bill-boarded entrance to an old resort lodge.

Leaving his car, he headed towards the gated entrance of the eerie looking establishment where a large banner with a caricature illustration of Italian American entertainer Tom Romano heralded:

CAL-NEVA : “THE GRAND RE-OPENING!”

Meanwhile, his car radio could still be heard ever so faintly in the background.

Heavily scarred, the driver looked like he'd been to hell and back through the years. He lit a cigarette and surveyed the lodge which was shrouded in near darkness. The red glowing tip of his cigarette brightened then dimmed with each of his slow drawing inhalations.

As Crystal Bay shimmered with moonlight in the distance, like lines of dancing silver, the lank haired man flicked his half smoked cigarette into the night sky.

The cigarette tip glowed for a brief moment on the ground before being extinguished by the cool, dark grass.

Later that night, asleep in his car on the side of the road, the man had a dream.

A fever dream.

A white line was being painted with great precision across the floor of the cavernous Indian Room.

A similar state line was then painted in black across a white, empty swimming pool.

Tall pines which stood like sentries were accompanied by alien-looking granite boulders as the tall, snow capped Sierra Nevada mountains behind them provided an ominous background.

Then suddenly, it was as if this same landscape had become like water, all fluid as speed boats chopped up the relatively calm, dark blue surface of Lake Tahoe.

A film camera whirred in Zapruder fashion as standing on the jetty overlooking Crystal Bay, happy tourists waved at the camera. But the film stock had deteriorated so greatly that their features, which were ghostly white could not be made out.

The same empty pool seen earlier is now filled with pristine sapphire blue water.

A lincoln continental drifts like a snake across Highway 48 as a svelte, female swimmer cuts through the sun dappled blue water of the pool.

Then an ominous storm cloud passes over the pool as darkness descends.

Lightning flashes like crash cymbals are followed by a huge downpour of rain.

The blue water of the pool now turns blood red.

The Lincoln is driving across the same California/Nevada state line that divides the watery depths of the pool.

The whole thing is a surreal dream.

A nightmare.

1959

The sky was a perfect aqua blue without a cloud in sight.

A faded American flag flapped violently as the rotating sign for “Holden’s Garage” span round and round like a spinning coin.

The distant hum of an approaching car could be heard a little way off in the distance while Little Anthony & The Imperials ‘Travelling Stranger’ blasted through the speaker of a red Zephyr transistor radio. Next to the radio was a calender for the year 1959, currently displaying movie actress Eva Hayward as the pin-up for the month of May.

Sparks flew from beneath a worse for wear looking Studebaker Champion as two men work under the car. It seemed they had a near telepathic relationship as they passed tools back and forth to one another without uttering a single word between them.

Moments later, a Lincoln Continental swept into the garage, its glistening chrome trim bouncing sunlight off the garage windows.

The two men paused for a moment from their work as they heard the car horn.

A well dressed man in his early 40's wearing thick, black, ‘Ray- Ban Wayfarer’ sunglasses remained seated in his car as he continued to lay on the horn, impatient for service.

The younger of the two men, Jimmy, came rushing out in his grey garage overalls, wiping grease from his hands on an old rag before running them through his straw coloured hair.

The driver wound down his window as Jimmy approached on the driver’s side.

"What are you guys doing under there? Eating lunch?

"We were just, er, working on a cracked engine block. Not sure she’s gonna make it."

"Sounds terminal."

"We’ll figure it out. What can I do for you?

The driver left the car as Jimmy stepped back, out of respect. He cut a tall, imposing figure and was elegantly dressed with a classic sharkskin fabric suit.

"Sure, go ahead. Fill her up."

While Jimmy set about filling up the tank the driver whistled to himself, Jimmy spied a young woman asleep in the back seat of the car, her eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. She looked barely conscious. Jimmy looked away, not wanting to appear nosy in anyway.

"Say, you might wanna check these baldheads for me also."

The driver kicked at his back left tire to test its bounce.

"These old rubber toes have seen too much road lately."

"No problem, Mister. You travel far?"

"Oh, we’ve come a way. Vegas. But what the hell; on a beautiful day like this, it’s what this car is made for."

"I know what you mean."

Jimmy checked the tires then clocked an emaciated looking man sitting on the other side of the back seat of the Lincoln. Jimmy knew better than to stare and showed a discretion beyond his years.

"I see I came at rush hour?"

Jimmy looked back to the driver.

"We always say it’s quality here, not quantity."

The driver smirked.

"Yeah? I bet your accountant loves that."

"Oh, we don’t have - I mean - the old man does his own books."

"The old man? This a family business then?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, good luck kid, is all I’m gonna say about that."

Jimmy was perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"Have you ever heard of an elephant graveyard?"

"Nope."

Jimmy was feeling increasingly defensive, picking up a somewhat condescending tone from the driver.

"Listen mister. My old man fought in the war y’know! It wasn’t easy for him afterwards."

"Relax kid. I’m just messin’ with you. Tell you what!"

The driver dipped his right hand into the inside of his left hand jacket pocket and pulled out a small, pristine, gatefold brochure which he passed to Jimmy.

"You wanna look at earning some real money this summer?

Jimmy took the brochure from the driver with an air of caution.

"You know what I mean by real money, don’t cha?"

"Uhuh."

Jimmy studied the colorful illustration of a luxurious looking resort lodge on the front of the brochure.

"Cal-Neva?"

"Go ahead and take a look. It won’t bite ya."

Jimmy opened out the gatefold brochure revealing more enticing pictures of the luxury location inside.

"Yes Sir. The Lady of the Lake. And the place to be. You wanna be somewhere kid?"

Jimmy looked mystified.

"I guess so. Are you the owner?

'You might say I am in charge of recruiting where I see fit. I have a certain amount of influence in my way, but today? I’m just the driver.

"I’m just not sure my pop would want me to take up a second job. He needs me back here."

Jimmy passes the glossy brochure back to the man as if to say thanks but no thanks.

"Oh that’s okay. Go ahead and keep it. Just in case you wanna see something a little more glamorous than the underside of a Studebaker, you can come sign up for work at the lodge. It’s gonna be a busy summer. We’re already fully booked. Besides, you’d always have the entire, miserable winter to kick your heels up back here.

"You don’t stay open all year round?

"With all the snow? Are you kidding me? It’s summer season only kid, unless you don’t mind salting the roads."

Jimmy smiled.

'If the price is right?"

"We'll see. Now you’re thinking smart."

"So what? Can I just turn up?"

"That’s it! Just look for the sign as you head down highway 48. There’s even a map on the back of the brochure there."

"But Mister. I’m not really good at anything but cars."

"It just so happens, that’s exactly what we need.'

"How you figure that?

"Someone who knows how to change a tire in a minute and park a caddy on a dime. And who can keep his mouth shut when it’s called for."

The emaciated, gaunt man inside the car was growing impatient as he knocked on the car window with his weak, bony hand.

The driver acknowledged the haunted looking figure in the back seat and checked the time on his expensive wrist watch.

'Oops. Time waits for no man I guess."

The driver handed Jimmy a twenty dollar bill, all crisp and fresh.

"Here, take this for the gas. The extra on top is for you to keep quiet about the girl.

"The girl? ...

Then Jimmy remembered.

"Oh, I won’t say nothing Mister, I promise.

"Yeah well, you know how Joe Schmoe and his wife like to talk?

Jimmy's father was watching on from his garage bay as his son remained in deep converstaion talked with the driver who was now back behind the wheel.

"What’s your name Kid?"

"Jimmy. Jimmy Holden."

"Well, nice to meet you Jimmy Holden."

"Thanks Mister. What’s your ...?"

And with that, the driver drove off, leaving a trail of blue exhaust fumes in Jimmy's wake. As he watched the Lincoln disappear off down the highway, the further away it got, the more dream like the whole encounter seemed.

"They’re gonna need a ring job!"

Jimmy was taken by surprise by his father who had crept up right beside him.  

"What you got there?"

Jimmy looked back down at the brochure in his hand.

"I don’t know. The man just gave it to me."

"He did, huh?"

The father got his oily finger prints over the glossy, color illustrated picture of the luxury resort.

"Well, you can be sure that won’t last. Who’s gonna come all the way out here to waste their money in a log cabin?"

"Didn’t they say the same thing about Vegas?"

"Oh sure. Like anyone thinks we need anymore of those things. Besides, don’t you know the place is cursed?

This drew a total blank with Jimmy.

"Sure! Built on an Indian burial ground."

"Awww, c’mon Pop, you don’t really believe in that stuff, do ya?"

"Maybe you should ask the Paiutes. It wasn’t so long ago Cal-Neva had that big old fire. Whole place was firewood. You think that was just an accident?

"It’ll take more than a couple’ll ghost stories to keep people away. Man says they’re already booked up for the summer."

"Course he would say that."

"And he gave me this."

The father looked at the crisp twenty dollar bill with disdain.

"And you just went and took it from him?

"Sure, why not? Besides, we couldn’t have broken it for him anyway."

"You checked it’s not counterfeit?"

Jimmy held the twenty dollar bill up to the sky as the face of the 18th President of the United States, Ulysses S. Grant, was flooded with bright sunlight.

"Looks real enough to me."

His father looked perturbed at his son's naivety.

"Son, do you think that man's giving you twenty bucks for nothing?"

"Sure. Why not?

"He’s buying your soul is what he’s doing there!"

Jimmy shook his head in disagreement.

"You don’t think so, huh?"

Jimmy squinted as the bright sunlight dazzled him.

"I don’t think the world is all messed up as you’d have me believe."

The father took a moment to reframe his sentiment, not wanting to seem too cynical.

"I don’t think the world is completely messed up."

He gestured to Jimmy.

"Exhibit A ..."

Jimmy held out the crisp, twenty dollar bill awkwardly in his hand and offered it to his father who was reassured by Jimmy's change of heart concerning the money.

"I’m not always gonna be around to tell you what to do, son. You’ve got to figure these things out on your own."

"Okay then. Maybe I’ll just make a donation to the church."

The father was skeptical of this ironic suggestion from Jimmy.

"Alright. Let’s get back to it. That Studebaker ain’t gonna fix itself."

Jimmy returned to the bay, changed somehow by the enticing offer from the well dressed man while the father took one last glance at the Cal-Neva brochure before wistfully looking back down the now deserted highway.

1984

The rotating garage sign, now rusted with age, span slowly. An eerie stillness pervaded. The sign stopped moving altogether. The old garage was vacated and  the old gas pumps were all dried up and weeds had started to grow through the cracks in the cement.

The lank haired driver was now parked opposite the deathly old place.

Jimmy closed his weary eyes as as he continued to recall the summer of 59.