As a climax of this part of the evening, the Astounding Willy stepped into a large glass box on wheels, which was then covered with a drape by his assistants. When the drape was removed, Willy had disappeared, and in his place was Gene Anderson, eight feet six inches tall, billed as "The World's Tallest Man."
Emerging from the box, Anderson, a former circus performer who has made his home in Pinellas Park for the last two years, spoke to the audience about peace and brotherhood. At the end of his lecture, he brought up a young man in a wheelchair, allegedly suffering from muscular dystrophy, and healed him, or appeared to heal him, by miraculous means.
On leaving the theater, members of the audience were handed application forms for an organization called "Peace, Prosperity, and Justice," and were also given pink play money to exchange with each other.
The performance will be repeated tonight and Sunday.
Margaret pasted the clipping into a scrapbook, along with copies of the newspaper advertisements, flyers, and handbills. Within a few months the scrapbook was full, and she began filing clippings in the first of a series of fat folders.
Coomaraswami had taken a leave of absence from the university to set up a think-tank in Orlando; it was beginning to issue position papers on renewable resources, birth control, the economics of a declining population. "It turns out there are a lot of things you can do," he said. "For instance, if population is declining, there is a lot of work just in tearing down large buildings that you don't need anymore, and salvaging the materials, and so on. Then the demographics are different too, so there is room for new products and we need different services. It is not hard to keep people working if you just look at the needs and opportunities."
One evening, after a private talk with Gene, he reported that Gene had touched him on the forehead. "You know, when he touched me, I felt as if I could feel those two marks of his fingers on my forehead afterward. It was really strange. I think it was just something he did, but it was really extraordinary how I felt about it."
"You don't think he can -- rearrange your brain, or anything, do you?" Wilcox asked."
"No, no." Coomaraswami waved the suggestion away. "I am sure my brain has not been rearranged. As far as I can tell, I am thinking as clearly as ever. Maybe a little more so. Just before I came in here I had the idea for a really marvelous physics paper. But, you know, something happened when he touched me. I can't explain it. But I feel now that it made everything definite in some way. As if he had confirmed a decision. And, really, I am very happy about it, but still it is strange."
The "kitchen cabinet," as Irma called it, still met on weekends when Gene was at home, but now there were new faces in it: lawyers, managers, publicity people. The head of the new legal staff was Brian Altman, who looked more like a choir boy than a corporation lawyer.
After St. Petersburg, Gene and Mike Wilcox took their show to Tampa, Orlando, Miami, and Savannah, setting up local organizations in each city. Arrangements were being made for a national tour beginning in June -- not in theaters this time, but in stadiums and civic centers.
"How will you manage the magic part in a big stadium?" Linck asked Wilcox. They were in the kitchen, with Irma, Pongo, and Margaret; Linck had just returned from a New York trip. Gene was in his room.
"It can't be done," Wilcox said. "I mean, I suppose you could do an elephant, but Gene doesn't want anything like that. We're giving up the magic. It was fun while it lasted, and it served its purpose."
"Is he relieved about that?"
"No, in a funny way I think he liked the idea, because he hates these comparisons with Jesus, and the magic made him different."
"How is that?"
"Well, I mean, Jesus at least wasn't a magician."
"Perhaps not, but he was crucified for being one. Don't repeat this to Gene, please, but when Jesus was brought before Pilate, you probably remember, Pilate asked the Jews, 'What is this man accused of?' And they answered, 'If he were not a doer of evil, we would not have brought him before you.' Well, you know, this sounds at first rather like the trial scene in "Alice in Wonderland." But 'doer of evil' at that time was a common term for a magician."
"Good heavens."
"The story is only in John, not the other three gospels. But it is a convincing story to me, because it makes good sense of this episode. In the other gospels, the charge against Jesus is blasphemy. If that had really been the charge, he would have been stoned to death under Mosaic law, not turned over to the Romans. Under Roman law, blasphemy against the Hebrew god was not a crime. But the practice of magic was, and the penalty was crucifixion."
Wilcox said after a moment, "I never heard that before, and I've read a good bit about magic. Why isn't there a little footnote or something to explain it in the Bible?"
"The meaning of 'doer of evil'? I suppose because the translators didn't know it. There are many mistakes in the English bible -- and in the Dutch one, too. Every translation is different. Did you know that in the French Bible, where it says in the English version, 'Blessed are the meek,' it says in French, 'Heureux sont les debonnaires'?"
"Debonnaires! That's very good. Maurice Chevalier at the Pearly Gates. But there's something else that bothers me. You know, Gene won't hear of any idea that he's the Second Coming or anything like that. You seem to be suggesting that he really is. I'm curious to know if that's what you actually think."
"No, and that's why I asked you not to mention this to Gene. I don't believe in reincarnation, you know. I think that when we die the universe takes us apart and uses us to make other things. That's just my opinion. But I also believe that there are patterns in the universe, and perhaps sometimes they repeat. Why not? The Platonists and Pythagoreans believed in the 'magnus annus,' the great year, when history would begin to repeat itself. I don't think for a moment that Gene is Jesus come again. But just consider a few things. His father was a carpenter. He has the power to heal and to make things appear and disappear. 'Gene' means 'born,' and 'Anderson,' well, you could interpret it as 'the son of man.' "
"I don't like talking about it behind his back this way," said Irma.
"I don't either, but he has only told us that he doesn't want us to talk about it to him. He hasn't said that we mustn't talk about it among ourselves. Well, never mind that, but there is something more important. How can we do our duty to him unless we try to understand what is happening? I assume that you all feel as I do, that we have a duty to him. To help him and protect him as far as we can. Would you agree?"
Their heads were nodding.
"Well, we can't predict the future, but sometimes we can see a pattern. That's really all I am saying."
In the spring Gene Anderson continued his tour; He was traveling now in his own Lear jet, with a modified motor home waiting for him at every airport. Plans for a European tour had preoccupied him through the winter. He was studying Russian and Polish with a young man named Kozlow, who reported that his progress was excellent. There was talk of buying a short-wave radio station in West Germany, perhaps a TV station as well.
On the evening before the rally in Houston, the group assembled as usual in the living room of Gene's suite. Through the open window came the sound of a car radio at full volume:
You're the one, Gene Anderson, You are the one. Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! Anderson, You are the one, oh-oh!
"That tune is driving me crazy," said Linck. "I have heard choral versions, one with a brass band, an organ version, and I don't know what all. It goes around and round. I can forget it quite easily, but then somebody plays it again."