RAY BRADBURY
"I'm from Northern Illinois. I grew up there until
I was fourteen, in a small town, Waukegan, a town which I have written
about many times over the years in books like SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY
COMES and DANDELION WINE. It became so much a part of my life and my thinking
that I couldn't stop remembering it and writing about it
Back when I was twelve years old I was madly in love with
L. Frank Baum and the Oz books, along with the novels of Jules Verne and
H.G. Wells, and especially the Tarzan books and the John Carter, Warlord
of Mars books by Edgar Rice Burroughs
.
I began to think about being a writer when I was eight
years old because I saw the covers of the wonderful new magazines Amazing
and Wonder Stories. The covers were so beautiful and so enchanting that
I decided then and there that some day I would slip between the covers
of those magazines and never come out, which is what I finally did. It
was such a beautiful place to live, I thought
Simultaneously I saw Blackstone the Magician on stage and thought, what
a wonderful life it would be if I could grow up and become a magician.
In many ways that is exactly what I did.
It was an encounter with another magician that changed
my life forever.
During the Labor Day week of 1932 a favorite uncle of mine
died; his funeral was held on the Labor Day Saturday. If he hadn't died
that week, my life might not have changed because, returning from his
funeral at noon on that Saturday, I saw carnival tent down by Lake Michigan.
I knew that down there, by the lake, in his special tent, was a magician
named Mr. Electrico.
Mr. Electrico was a fantastic creator of marvels. He sat
in his electric chair every night and was electrocuted in front of all
the people, young and old, of Waukegan, Illinois. When the electricity
surged through his body he raised a sword and knighted all the kids sitting
in the front row below his platform. I had been to see Mr. Electrico the
night before. When he reached me, he pointed his sword at my head and
touched my brow. The electricity rushed down the sword, inside my skull,
made my hair stand up and sparks fly out of my ears. He then shouted at
me, "Live forever!"
I thought that was a wonderful idea, but how did you do
it?
The next day, being driven home by my father, fresh from
the funeral, I looked down at those carnival tents and thought to myself,
"The answer is there. He said 'Live forever,' and I must go find
out how to do that." I told my father to stop the car. He didn't
want to, but I insisted. He stopped the car and let me out, furious with
me for not returning home to partake in the wake being held for my uncle.
With the car gone, and my father in a rage, I ran down the hill. What
was I doing? I was running away from death, running toward life.
When I reached the carnival grounds, by God, sitting there,
almost as if he were waiting for me, was Mr. Electrico. I grew, suddenly,
very shy. I couldn't possibly ask, How do you live forever? But luckily
I had a magic trick in my pocket. I pulled it out, held it toward Mr.
Electrico and asked him if he'd show me how to do the trick. He showed
me how and then looked into my face and said, "Would you like to
see some of those peculiar people in that tent over there?"
I said, "Yes."
He took me over to the sideshow tent and hit it with his
cane and shouted, "Clean up your language!" at whoever was inside.
Then, he pulled up the tent flap and took me in to meet the Illustrated
Man, the Fat Lady, the Skeleton Man, the acrobats, and all the strange
people in the sideshows.
He then walked me down by the shore and we sat on a sand
dune. He talked about his small philosophies and let me talk about my
large ones
Leaving the carnival grounds that day I stood by the carousel
and watched the horses go round and round to the music of "Beautiful
Ohio." Standing there, the tears poured down my face, for I felt
that something strange and wonderful had happened to me because of my
encounter with Mr. Electrico.
I went home and the next day travelled to Arizona with
my folks. When we arrived there a few days later I began to write, full-time.
I have written every single day of my life since that day 69 years ago".
Ray Bradbury 2001
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