A Knight Of The Word

I should think just about everyone is feeling pretty good about this one, Simon.” he complimented. “It’s quite an accomplishment.”


Simon leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk and his chin in his hands, giving Wren a thoughtful look. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with nicely chiselled features, thick dark hair, and startling blue eyes. When he walked, he looked like a big cat, sort of gliding from place to place, slow and graceful, never hurried, with an air of confidence about him that suggested he would not be easily be surprised. Wren placed him at a little over six feet and maybe two hundred pounds. His birth certificate, which Wren had ferreted out by searching the records in a suburb of St. Louis two years earlier in an unsuccessful attempt to learn something about his childhood, put him at forty-five years of age. He was unmarried, had no children, had no living relatives that anyone could identify, lived alone, and was the most important voice of his generation in the fight against homelessness.

His was a remarkable story. He had come to Seattle eight years ago after spending several years working for nationally based programs like Habitat for Humanity and Child Risk. He worked for the Union Gospel Mission and Treehouse, then after three years, founded Fresh Start. He began with an all-volunteer staff and an old warehouse on Jackson Street. Within a year, he had secured sufficient funding to lease the building where Fresh Start was presently housed, to hire a full-time staff of three, including Ray Hapgood, and to begin generating seed money for his next project. Pass/Go. He wrote a book on homeless women and children, entitled Street Lives. A documentary filmmaker became interested in his work and shot a feature that wan an Academy .Award. Shortly afterward, Simon was nominated for the prestigious Jefferson Award, which honours ordinary citizens who do extraordinary things in the field of community.— service. He was one of five state-wide winners, was selected as an entry for national competition, and was subsequently— a winner of the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Award.

From there, things really rook off. The media began to cover him regularly. He was photogenic, charming, and passionate about his work, and he gave terrific interviews. His programs became nationally known. Hollywood adapted him as a cause, and he was smart enough to know how to make the most of that. Money poured in. He purchased the buildings that housed Fresh Start and Pass/Go, increased his full-tune staff, began a volunteer training program, and developed a comprehensive informational program on the roots of homelessness, which he made available to organisations working with the homeless in other cities. He held several high-profile fund-raisers that brought in national celebrities to mingle with the locals, and with the ensuing contributions established a foundation to provide seed money for programs similar to his own.

He also wrote a second book, this one more controversial than the first, but more critically acclaimed. The title was The Spiritual Child. It was something, of a surprise to everyone, because it did not deal with the homeless, but with the spiritual growth of children. It argued rather forcibly that children were possessed of an innate intelligence that allowed them to comprehend the lessons of spirituality, and that adults would do better if they were to spend less time trying to impose their personal religious and secular views and more time encouraging children to explore their own. It was a controversial position but Simon Lawrence was adept at advancing an argument without seeming argumentative, and he pretty much carried the day.

By now he was being referred to regularly as the Wizard of Oz. a name that had been coined early on by People magazine when is ran a fluff piece on the miracles he had performed in getting Fresh Start up and running. Wren knew Simon Lawrence wasn’t overly fond of the tag, but he also knew the Wiz understood the value of advertising, and a catchy name didn’t hurt when it came to raising dollars. He lived in the Emerald City, after all, so he couldn’t very well complain if the media decided to label him the Wizard of Oz. Or the Wiz, more usually, for these days everyone seemed to think they were on a first-name basis with him. Simon Lawrence was hot stuff, which made him news, which made Andrew siren’s purpose in taming to see him all the more intriguing.

“An accomplishment,” Simon said softly, repeating Wren’s words. He shook his head. Andrew, I’m like the Dutch boy with his finger in the hole in the dike and the sea rising on the other side. Let me give you same statistics to think about. Use them or not when you write your next story, I don’t care. But remember them.