Buckle and Swish

I sat in the attic, a young boy, a box of books on the floor in front of me. I had known the books were there. They were my father's--presumably from his childhood. My father loved to read. He had whole collections of the works of James Fenimore Cooper, there were volumes by Twain and other great writers. My dad wanted us to be readers too. He prided himself on his love of literature. My father and I did not always get along, while I was growing up; in other ways, though, I idolized him. I suppose what I really felt was the need for his approval. I wanted to feel close to him, in some, in any way.

I had known the books were there. I had wanted to be like my father. I remembered the hard, red cover of the book and the black lettering along the spine. The book was old but the condition was good. In fact, it was as though the spine had never been cracked.

I sat in the attic, a young boy, reading my father's copy of THE ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD.

Not only did I have a desire to be close to my father; I had a need for a male role model. I was a boy--perhaps ten, perhaps somewhere in the year or two that was either side of that milestone birthday. It was the seventies and I was confused. I was confused because I knew that I was a homosexual. I didn't even know what a homosexual was. I only knew that there was something different about me, that I had a secret, that it must be kept a secret, that (for some reason) this secret was something that was perceived to be bad. I knew that I was not masculine and that I wanted, that society demanded, that I be masculine. I knew that I both needed and wanted male companionship--of any sort--and that I both needed and wanted male approval. I did not find these needs and desires at school and I did not get them at home. My father worked, and a lot. On the weekends, he preferred to focus on his family duties, household and gardening chores. Once those bits of work were done, his attention fell to social obligations. He was well liked and invited to many parties. He played sports on various leagues. Basketball and baseball, in particular, I seem to remember. Aside from these facts was the fact that I do not believe he knew, exactly, what to do with his (clearly) prissy son who shared none of his interests. I spent my time watching old black and white films on television and reading oversized photo books about Hollywood and movie star biographies. I would not like anyone reading this to resent my father for any part of my childhood. I do not. I respect and admire my father for the man he is, the life he has lived and the choices he has made. He did the best he could with a child who did not make it easy--something that seems to have been my main role in life until a few years ago. For some, it is still the role I play.

My male companionship, my male role models, my approval and friendships came in the form of daydreams based on the heroes I distilled from the literature and films I ingested. Two of these role models came in the same shape: Robin Hood and Errol Flynn.

I idolized them both. To have one of them immortalize the other on film was simply a happy coincidence.

Robin Hood was a true hero. I believe that it was my love of Robin Hood that instilled in me the value system that has gotten me into so much trouble throughout my life. The man was more concerned with the plight of others than with his own well being. He became an outlaw so that he could help those less fortunate than himself. He showed a loyalty to his king and country and displayed honour, in every way, bringing a (vigilante) justice to those who were deserving. I am not saying that I sit in judgment of people in any way, only that I have (often and, often, to my own detriment) put the needs of others ahead of my own needs. I have spent much time focusing on the underdog and those in need. I have prided myself on this aspect of my personality. I believe it is because Robin Hood was my boyhood hero. It was about more than the goodness; he was the greatest swashbuckler, the most dashing hero of all time. I, simply put, wanted to grow up to either BE Robin Hood or be WITH Robin Hood.

Once I had seen the film with Errol Flynn and the character had a physical appearance, I was lost; lost I tell you. I became enamoured of the great actor of days gone by who had brought to life my idol. I red books about the man that unveiled to me the many flaws in his character (I think this is when I began to learn to separate the artist from the human) and I poured over photo books, wondering what THE SEA HAWK, CAPTAIN BLOOD and THEY DIED WITH THEIR BOOTS ON were like. This was before the days of videotape and one could not just call up any old movie whenever they wanted. I had to wait til they were on tv! That can be a long wait for a young lad needing a role model! So my exposure to Mr Flynn became (and remained, for years) strictly limited to repeated viewings of ROBIN HOOD, which was on tv a LOT while I was growing up. There are, to this day, some Errol Flynn films I have never seen.

One of the adventures Pat and I undertook this summer was to spend many evenings and weekends at THE FILM FORUM downtown, watching the Summer Swashbuckler Series. It is difficult for me to sit in cinemas a lot. I have arthritis in my spine, a short attention span and insomnia. When you put me in a darkened room for more than ninety minutes, I tend to become uncomfortable, cranky and sleepy. This has been a month of double features. We have seen many Douglas Fairbanks Sr. silents (I am, now, a die-hard fan!), Stewart Granger in SCARMOUCHE (amazing film! Janet Leigh, Mel Ferrer, Eleanor Parker!), Leslie Howard and Merle Oberon in SCARLET PIMPERNEL, Ronald Coleman in PRISONER OF ZENDA, an amazing THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK (SO campy!!!) and we have seen Errol Flynn in THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER, THE SEA HAWK, CAPTAIN BLOOD and (and there was a HUGE turnout for this) in ROBIN HOOD. The Swashbuckling Series has been one of the best things we ever did for ourselves. We both love the genre, we both love films and we both (I believe) have given the little boy living inside of us a chance to awaken, once more, to rise to the surface of our peronalities and re-live the fantasies of being a pirate, a rogue, a dashing man of romance and action. We have given these little boys inside a chance to be with our idols, our companions, our role models, again after so many years of allowing them to become a part of our past.

It has been, especially, significant for me to re visit my old pals, Robin of Loxley and Errol Flynn. I am aware that Errol Flynn was always considered b-list in Hollywood--little more than an action adventure star; I am here to tell you that they were wrong. He was an enchanting actor with impeccable comic timing and wonderful dramatic skills. He was one of the bright spots in the history of that town and more people should take a look at his films. As for Robin Hood--there have been many, over the years. I haven't sought them out. I loved Errol Flynn's Robin Hood too much to pay attention to the others. I will say, though, that the Disney Robin Hood is a very good one, as is Sean Connery's aged Robin in ROBIN AND MARION (with the great Audrey Hepburn)--and while we are on the subject of Marian--SIGH. OLIVIA DE HAVILLAND. That's it. There is no more to say regarding the matter. Only. SIGH. OLIVIA DE HAVILLAND. And while we are at it--I must see some more Basil Rathbone.

So I have had an opportunity to revist the past, to be a different Stephen--one that has been in hiding for a long time--for a couple of hours, once or twice a week. It has been a truly wonderful experience; even if you don't consider my emotional and psychological attachment to the characters and the actors, the mere fact of getting to experience these gems of cinematic history on the big screen--well, that's enough. People read books over and over but they don't investigate the treasures of old movies. We must. They are classics, like the ones taught in English classes in schools. They should be witnessed and enjoyed, like those volumes -- the ones that are packed in boxes and stored in attics. The ones that kids today don't read because they are busy with their computer games and their x-boxes.

I'm so grateful for the last month of swashbuckling and for the male companionship I have had while there; the companionship of my make believe heroes and that of my real life hero, Pat, who sits in the dark with me, holding my hand and offering me his approval.

As I have learned to offer it to myself.

Companionship. Role models. Approval. They lie wherever we choose to find them. I find it is best to find them within; then, to put them away and get on with your life.

Please note that I got the photo of Errol Flynn off the internet; and that I do not know the name of the person who took the photo of me dressed as Robin Hood for Halloween in 1981.