Orion The Chimp
“I’ve spent eighteen months in the Congo, traversed the Himalayas, lived with the undiscovered tribes of the Amazon, but I’ve known only one celebrity in my life: Orion the Chimp.” Marty Harrison said to the young traveler. They sat near the fireplace of the Dawson City Traveler Den absorbing what heat they could. The bartender, layered in jackets, wiped the glasses at the end of the bar.
A harsh blizzard raged on outside Dawson City Lodge. Snow piled for miles outside and no one was leaving anytime soon. The Lodge was a favorite of big game hunters. The area was home to bears and exotic animals in the far northern reaches of North America. Trophies that were once living beings accented the room. Wild boar rugs lied atop the wooden flooring. Stuffed moose heads displayed proudly on the walls. The young traveler covered himself with one of the many bearskin blankets to add an extra layer of warmth.
Marty gripped the Cranberry-Vodka with his varicose vein hands. It was one of the few things he could still drink. Seventy-seven years young and still ticking. The vodka made the arthritis disappear. Cold never bothered the old man. Hell! Soon enough, he’d be cold forever.
He sat the drink down and rocked back and forth in the chair.
“Who’s that?” The young traveler asked drifting towards a cozy slumber.
“Come on, kid! Orion the Chimp – he was the biggest primate movie star you ever seen. Must’ve been in a hundred movies. All of ‘em classics.” The Bartender bellowed.
“Oh yeah, I think I know who you’re talking about.” The young man said, not wanting to appear out of the loop.
“He was in that Christmas movie: A Chimp for All Seasons.” The bartender said. “My father and I used to watch it every year. One time, I remember he laughed so hard that he fell out his chair. We all thought he had a stroke!” The warm childhood memory made the bartender laugh.
“I haven’t seen it.”
“How can you not have seen it! They play it on NBC every year.”
“I don’t own a television.” The young traveler shrugged his shoulders and got cozier.
“Eh. It doesn’t matter. This is all bullshit. I see it all the time. These old bastards come in here and wanna tell some tall tale before they die. Talk about some giant animal they killed with their bare hands. It’s all make-believe from sad senile men. This guy never met Orion the Chimp.” The Bartender said as the cold started to hit him again.
“What makes you so sure that I’m lying?” Marty asked.
“I don’t know nothing about Hollywood. But I definitely know that you ain’t been around Orion. That chimp has to have bodyguards and paparazzi from here to Florida. You couldn’t even get a picture of the guy, much less meet him.”
“’Course I didn’t meet him after he was a movie star. Hell, I ain’t seen Orion since fifty-four. In person that is. ‘Course, I’ve seen him up on the big screen. Believe or not, I grew up with him.”
“Yeah right.” The Bartender rolled his eyes. “Where’d you grow up: the Congo?”
“Montana. A little town called Dead Indian. I knew him as a young chimp. Before the stardom.”
“And how the hell this monkey end up in Bumfuck, Montana?”
“Dead Indian!” Marty corrected him. “See, there was this kid...
“Wyatt Chesterfield. He lived about four houses down from me. We were all growing up just after the War. Whole lotta young men from Dead Indian went and fought overseas. Just like a whole lotta young men from everywhere else. Some of them were lucky enough to make it back. Others weren’t. Wyatt’s father was one of those unfortunate bastards that weren’t so lucky. Word was he got his head blown off by a German sniper, late in the War, when the writing was on the wall and nothing much mattered but the guns still fired.
“Fate left this boy to grow up with nothing but his mother. And she coddled him. Guess that’s what a desperate and grieving woman would do. She buried all her love and grief onto her son. The only memento of the man she loved. There was nothing that boy could want that that poor heartbroken mother wouldn’t provide.
“Wyatt was a real shut-in. Never did any of the things us other boys did. Didn’t play sports. Didn’t play Cowboys and Indians. None of it. Never even talked to us on the schoolyard. He’d be out by himself practicing lion taming.”
“Lion taming?” The Bartender asked.
“Hell of a thing for a kid to do.” The bartender said.
“Did he have a lion?” The young traveler said.
“That’s the thing. We always saw him twirling that rope around. But, he didn’t have no lion so it didn’t make no sense.”
“So, how’d you know he was lion taming?” The young traveler asked.
“When we were about ten years old, he’d decided to come out his shell and display his talent for the neighborhood. Convinced Mrs. Green - a couple houses down - to let him put on a show in her basement.
“Let me tell you, that woman was an angel. She used to bake cookies for us kids at the school. Offered free piano lessons to anyone that was interested. Her husband got it in Okinawa and left her with two young girls to raise by her lonesome. I think that’s why she let Wyatt do it. Some sort of dead soldier solidarity.
“Anyway, Mrs. Green’s daughters were sweethearts. They made a bunch of posters and put them up all over town. ONE NIGHT ONLY – WYATT CHESTERFIELD – THE MAGNIFICENT LION TAMER. And it turned into a huge event. Bigger than anyone anticipated. See, Dead Indian was so far out of the way of everything that no performers or circus people ever showed up. People in a town like that see a flyer that says Lion Tamer, and naturally, they’re gonna show up.
“Everybody flocked to the show, and I mean everybody. Little kids, big kids, parents, veterans. Our mayor, Dwight Kelsey, came with his wife and daughter. Luckily, Mrs. Green had a big ol’ basement and a whole lotta chairs. But even that wasn’t enough and it became standing room only. She hung up a makeshift curtain and we could hear Wyatt behind it, breathing heavy.
And we sat there in wonder, ‘What a nerve-wracking profession lion taming must be!’ And the sound of his breathing built all this excitement. There was this tension in the room that I ain’t felt before or since. Everything felt like it was gonna pop. Explode. And all our dreams would come true. Like all those young men would come back from the dead and everything would be alright again... Now, we didn’t hear no lion, but we sorta thought it was the first trick. Like the lion was gonna appear out of nowhere.
“Wyatt finally came out with his rope in hand. No lion in sight. Now again, we thought that was the first trick: make the lion appear. Wyatt started twirling the rope, lashing it against the ground. And that was pretty damn impressive. That boy could work a rope. It made us even more excited for the lion’s arrival. One of the veterans in the back yelled out, ‘Goddamn, if he’s this good on air, then he’d have that lion tamed in no time!’
“As I learned that night, Life is littered with disappointments. Wyatt kept doing rope tricks and we all sorta got restless. We started chanting for the lion. And Wyatt looked at us which his face flushed and told us that there was no lion.”
“What happened?” The young traveler asked.
“The whole room just about rioted! Everyone – from the four year olds to the limbless vets – wanted to set that little boy on fire. Mob justice would’ve ensued if Mayor Kelsey hadn’t rushed out of his seat and calmed us down before we could commit community murder.
“Mayor Kelsey acted like a real leader that night. He sprang into action, took off his black leather belt, and he beat that ten year old boy right in front of everybody. The room cheered and hooted for the senseless beating of that lying kid. Mayor Kelsey told Wyatt that it was wrong to falsely advertise. He said Wyatt had duped the good people of Dead Indian... Looking back it was probably good that no lion showed up. Cause that could’ve turned into a real blood bath... Anyway, Mrs. Green rushed to the Mayor and pleaded with him to stop. Well, he gave her a wallopin’ too since she was in collusion with the boy.”
“What a bastard!” The young traveler said. “Beating a kid and a woman in front of everybody.”
“Times were different then,” Marty said.
“I hope that prick got his comeuppance!” The young traveler said.
“Actually, Mayor Kelsey ended up getting re-elected to three more terms. His campaign slogan was: ‘I Beat Up Liars like Wyatt Chesterfield.’ Upon retiring, he said that was his proudest achievement in office.”
“What in the hell does any of this shit have to do with Orion the Chimp?” The Bartender asked.
“I’m getting to it. That’s the problem with nowadays. Everybody wants everything right away. In my day, we used to have to wait for things.”
“Yeah, yeah. My day was not long after your day, old man. Just get on with the story before we all die.” The bartender said.
Marty continued on. “Well, at any rate, we let that boy have it after that. Used to beat him up everyday at lunch and after school. All the adults turned a blind eye, seeing as that boy duped them too.
“We’d beat him then shun him. After we’d get done shunning him, we’d beat him again. Only attention we gave him was with our fists. Whatever hope he had of ever gaining friends was pretty much gone. Sometimes, we would peek over the fence into his backyard and see him doing his lion taming without the lion. We’d shout and throw rocks at him. But, to his credit, he kept on doing it.
“During that time, he pleaded with his mama to get him a lion. For years he pleaded. Day in and day out. She told him ‘no’ as hard as she could. But, she wasn’t going to deny her little boy forever... She must’ve seen all the bruises he came home with. We weren’t too tactful in our beatings. Like I said, the adults didn’t care, and you never have to hide violence if you’re not scared of the consequences... Eventually, she snapped and ordered him a lion straight from Africa.”
“How’d she order a lion all the way out in Wyoming?” The young traveler asked.
“Montana!” Marty corrected him. “She got it from the SEARS catalogue. You could get anything from it. We came home from school and headed over to Wyatt’s to beat him up - as was our custom – and we saw this big wooden crate on his front lawn. The biggest damn crate I’d ever seen before or since. Wyatt comes out his house with a crowbar. And he looks straight at us with this rage like a wild animal. Like he was going to run over and beat all of us to death for the way we beat him. ‘Course we decided it wouldn’t be such a good idea to mess with him at that moment.
“We gathered across the street and watched him open the crate. We knew what this was; the long awaited lion. Didn’t sound like no lion we ever heard before though – not that we heard a lion before outside of the movies. Sure enough, Wyatt pried it open and inside...”
“Was Orion?” The Bartender answered.
“Precisely. He walked out of that crate on his monkey feet. And it was like I was looking at the face of God. This monkey had a beautiful, deep truth inside of him. A greatness that transcended human and primate. Some zen-like substance was deep inside him. Now, Wyatt was plum surprised to see a chimpanzee and not a lion. Before he could say anything, Orion grabbed Wyatt’s finger with his monkey paw and the boy led him into the house.”
Marty took a break from his story and finished up his Cranberry-Vodka. The booze lit a fire rose in his stomach lining and he motioned to the bartender for another. The Bartender poured Marty a fresh drink and joined the men near the fire.
“Bet that made you change your mind about that weirdo.” The Bartender said.
“You’re goddamn right it did. I tried to be friendly with him after that. We all did. It wasn’t like I wanted to be friends with him cause he had a chimp. That was part of it, I suppose, but not the main part. Orion made me analyze the way that we treated that poor boy. Sure, Wyatt had made fools of us but life is too short to hold grudges. You gotta let the past be the past. All us boys tried to make amends with Wyatt after that. We’d invite him to play baseball, ride bikes, or set fire to things in the alleyways. Normal thirteen year old stuff. But, he was always off with Orion –didn’t care nothing for us fair-weather friends. He had something better. A best friend.
“Orion and him would go down to the Pharmacy that Mr. Williams owned. They would eat these giant ice cream sundaes – you know, cause how much chimps like bananas - Orion would scoop the ice cream into his paw and suck out the melted goop through his fingers.”
“He ate the ice cream the same way in Monkey Suit.” The Bartender interjected. A big smile flashed on his face. “I must’ve seen that movie about fifty times when I was a kid.”
“It started right there at Williams’ Pharmacy. I watched it happen through the storefront window everyday after school. After a while, Mr. Williams asked Orion to be in a commercial for his Pharmacy that was to be broadcast throughout the region. Now, being a chimpanzee from the jungle, Orion had no idea what a contract was. So, Wyatt negotiated a deal where the two of them would never have to pay for anything in the pharmacy ever again. Thus began their agent-client relationship.
“The commercial was a huge success. People came from all over the Far West to see the chimp eat ice cream. The pharmacy boomed, Mr. Williams became rich, and the ice cream eating chimp became a national sensation. To his credit, Orion never seemed phased by all this attention and fame that he got. He ate those sundaes same as before. That’s what I admired about him. That zen-like quality he had.
“Hollywood called not long after that. Billy Wilder flew out to Dead Indian Hill and put Orion in his next movie. Wyatt moved out to Los Angeles to represent him. By that time, he was fifteen years old and he left his mother behind to hang out with Cary Grant and Elizabeth Taylor and all the big stars at the time. Went to these big, lavish parties. I know all this cause Wyatt wrote a letter addressed to the whole town. He said that he had experienced the height of luxury and he was down with us small town folk. Said that we were all a bunch of rotten hicks with no sense or taste. Orion and him were far too famous to associate with us simpletons. And that frankly, he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if the town were destroyed by an atom bomb.”
“What a prick!” The Bartender said.
“What are you talking about?” The young traveler said.
“You don’t turn on your hometown like that!” The bartender said.
“Some hometown! They beat him up and didn’t want anything to do with him till that monkey showed up.”
“CHIMPANZEE!” The Bartender exploded. “You show the star of Summer Bananas some goddamn respect!” The group took a moment for the Bartender to catch his breath.
Marty continued, “That wasn’t Wyatt the kid writing to us. That was Wyatt the Big Time Movie Agent. Fame changed him. Happens to all celebrities. These people leave home and think they’re so much better than everyone else.
“Besides, I got the hell out of that town too. Orion showed me that there was a whole big world out there. A world full of wonder and places I’d never see if I stayed in Dead Indian. That chimp got a lot of people to follow their dreams. Ronald Reagan even said that he wouldn’t have gotten into politics if it weren’t for Orion the Chimp. That don’t excuse Wyatt’s letter to us. But, I was less mad about it than everybody else in town.
“If I learned one thing over my many years and travels, it’s that karma does exist and things have a way of working themselves out.
“Seems that – as his manager – Wyatt was stealing money from Orion. The chimp did the smart thing and ended all business relations with that lion tamer. He took Wyatt to court and got that boy out of his life forever. Without Orion, Wyatt turned to a life of drinking and excess in Los Angeles. Got back on track and spent what he had left on that lion he wanted since he was a little kid. But he didn’t use the SEARS catalogue. He ordered a lion from a less than reputable Zanzibarian source. Sure enough, a big wooden crate arrived at his mansion in Beverly Hills.
“What did he get instead of a lion?” The young traveler asked.
“Oh, there was a lion in there, alright. Wyatt pried open the crate and found himself a dead lion. And you can’t tame what Death has already claimed.
“All out of money, he moved back home to Dead Indian. His mother got real sick and the medicine was expensive. It became his turn to take care of the woman that had taken care of him. Wyatt went back to the Pharmacy to get some free medication. He discovered that Mr. Williams sold the place long ago and spent the rest of his years on some beach. The new owner was not one for nostalgia or thinning profit margins and he refused to honor their contract. Seems he was pretty sore about that letter too.
“Mrs. Chesterfield passed away a couple months later. They say her death was long and agonizing. Every moment was spent in pain and Wyatt was by her side the whole time. He watched helpless as disease tore his poor, sweet mother apart.
“He was an orphan after that. No mother. No monkey. No community that cared for him. His drinking got worse. One night, he barged into Mrs. Green’s house and held her at gunpoint. Took her down to the basement and made her watch him do his lion taming show all over again. Rope in one hand, shotgun pointed at her in the other. And when he finished up, with his final act, he blew his head off right there in the basement.”
“Jesus!” The young traveler gasped.
“I wish I could’ve seen it. I bet he put on a great show that night.” Marty said. “He was a hell of a lion tamer. If only we could’ve looked past the fact that he didn’t have a lion.”
The three men sat in silence. Their breath showed in the cold air and then dissipated. Marty pulled a bearskin blanket off the back of the chair and put it over himself. He felt warm and important and didn’t need to ask much more from life.
“Yep, Orion had himself a mighty successful career... All sorts of rumors are flying around now. About how he used drugs, beat up women, and flung shit at caterers. Don’t believe any of it. I’ve had many travels and I consider myself lucky to have met Orion the Chimp.” With that, Marty closed his eyes and went to sleep.