There's a Reason That We Live So Far From Hollywood

Author's Note: Despite some fabrications, the details provided in this story are based in and inspired by reality. To give the full scope of the truth, I shall provide at the end of each chapter what was fabricated and what actually occurred. This is to present a fuller and correct picture of deceased persons lives, so as to no longer have a blur between the factual and the fictional.

Due to a contract I signed with The Walt Disney Company, I cannot confirm nor deny the existence of any sort of rumor affiliated with Walt E. Disney. This is not a spy film where I really mean that I know some rumors to be true. I am literally saying that I cannot and will not confirm nor deny any sort of rumor because they are simply that, rumors. They are not factually proven. I shall only be using factually proven material.

These first couple of chapters will be short due to me trying to figure out how to make this story work. If you feel inclined to review, please do so constructively.

Inspired and based on Walt Disney: An American Original by Bob Thomas

Writer's Soundtrack available at the end of the story.

Dedicated to: The people who saw the imagination as a gateway to the human heart and used animation to capture it. With full sincerity and appreciation, from one to another, may you all rest in peace.

Walt E. Disney, Roy E. Disney, Roy O. Disney, Elias Disney, Ub Iwerks, Les Clark, Marc Davis, Ollie Johnston, Milt Khal, Ward Kimball, Eric Larson, John Lounsbery, Wolfgang Reitherman, Frank Thomas, Cliff Edwards, Sebastian Cabot, Phil Harris, Joaquin Garay, José Oliveira

-PART ONE: Kansas City, Missouri-

Chapter One

As the Great War ended with the chime of the bell, a man in a ragged brown suit and a cardboard suitcase walked down a small road towards a two-story brick house that was addressed at 3028 Bellefontaine Ave., Kansas City, Missouri. The lawn was rather unkempt as if it were deemed unworthy to be cut by the god of lawnmowers. The sidewalk that protruded from the main piece of concrete ordained by the city for pedestrian use that lead up to the two small front steps of the porch was well maintained, as if there were some kind of decree from a king or something that all sidewalks were to be perfect, but grass can be left to its own devices. This of course, whole situation of the upkeep rather strange. Nevertheless, with a smile on his face, this person of seventeen walked towards this house and miserable lawn into the realm of adulthood with the scent of the plane still resting firmly on his hair and a bit of dried up blood underneath his fingernails. Standing on the porch dressed in brown suspenders and a white button up shirt, stood the firm aegis of this young person's life and the faux leader of the house.

"Well, well," the aegis as he noticed the teenager walk down the sidewalk with a pep in his step. "If it isn't Mr. Disney himself."

Smiling and striding up the steps nimbly, the teenager embraced his brother warmly and shook his hand afterwards. "Roy, it is good to see you."

"Likewise, welcome home solider." Roy replied with a smile as he stepped to the side, addressing his brother as if he were the King of France.

The other gentleman, the faux leader, wore an eristic face that simply told the two brothers that he was content in the proceedings of the day. Following his sons, the father, whose name was Elias respectfully, entered the house and shut the storm door behind him which cracked up against the wooden frame of the door.

To the left of the front door was a living room that was open and filled with furniture with floral upholstery. A loveseat flanked the small fireplace that was on the western most wall of the house and across from this lay a chair. A loveseat completed this, making a square of seating around a nice, but not necessarily expensive rug in which Ruth, a girl who was more interested in dolls and dresses than business matters, was combing her homemade doll's hair. Off to the right of the front door lay a square kitchen which was typical and which sported a not so glamourous table in the centre. The house was divided up by a staircase that was composed of narrow stairs that were crooked slightly as if the architect who constructed the house was a fan of Louis Carroll and Dr. Hopper's Elixir of Health.

In the kitchen, a woman in her late forties cooked a meal of chicken and baked beans on a stove. As she began to perspire, a smile grew upon her face as she fanned herself with a small knock-0ff Japanese fan.

"Walter," she called, "are you home, dear?"

"Yes, mother." The younger man of the three gentleman answered as he walked into the space and kissed her on the cheek.

"Oh Walt, it is so good to see you home and safe." Flora, his mother, said as she looked into his eyes as if she could foresee the future somehow.

"It is good to see you, mother." Walt said smiling back at her as he sat down at the kitchen table. Sitting his meager briefcase on the wooden table and opening it to reveal a picture of him and Russell Mass, a friend of his from the Parisian front. They were both smiling and leaning up against a medical vehicle. It was signed with a silver pen in a rather hurried, but still legible way:

Good luck in Kansas, Diz. –Russell

Walt pulled the photograph out and smiled a bit, shaking his head. "Ol' Russ was a jokester. He was always good for a laugh if you needed it."

Flora slowly managed to produce a smile, and although she was glad to see her son, she was not necessarily looking forward to the war stories he obviously had. For, she was a woman of sense, not of politics and rage, which, in her mind, was what war was.

Later that night, after supper had been consumed and the dishes put away, Ruth had fallen asleep in the chair, her golden locks reflecting beautifully against the small fire in the fireplace. Walt, who was sitting on the couch watching his younger sister dream of periwinkles, slowly began to yawn himself to sleep and as he dozed off, he heard his father descend the crooked staircase and untucking his shirt.

"Walter, I think we need to talk about something." Elias said as he sat down on the other end of the couch. Looking toward his younger son, he placed a firm hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly awake.

"Walter, did you hear what I said?"

Opening his eyes rather sleepily, Walt nodded and yawned a second time. "What do you wish to talk about?"

"I have a position open at the jelly factory, with you being in the family, the job will pay twenty-five dollars an hour."

Walt rubbed his eyes and sighed at the prospect of working at a factory run by his father whom he loved but secretly wished were more lenient with him. Roy seemed to be the angel and Walt, for some reason, was the kind of person that Elias wanted to sire all by himself in the image that was required and necessary instead of one that was desired. As he yawned a third time to stall his answer, Walt looked over to his father who was giving him the authoritative stare of his somewhat backwards ideology.

"Dad," Walt said after finishing his yawn. "I don't want to do that kind of job."

"Then what do you want to do, Walter?" Elias asked as he crossed his legs, looking at his son inquisitively.

"I want to be an artist."

Elias smiled, the kind of smile you get when you hear something ridiculous or hilarious. "And how do you expect to make a living as an artist?"

Walt shrugged a moment and secretly wished he had a cigar to celebrate his victorious move to his father's wishes. "I don't know, but I do know that I will not be going back to Chicago. I'll be staying local. I heard that Roy knows a few fellas from The Kansas City Star. Maybe that's a start."

Sighing, the old man stood and stretched his arms out before he retreated back up the stairs. "Good night Walter. Bring Ruth up will you?"

Walter laughed and with a gracious nod reached over and carried his young sister up the stairs to her room. As he ascended slowly with Ruth in his arms, Walt hummed a little tune that popped into his head while he was on the front.

When you wish upon a star…

Truths:

1. In 1918, when Walt returned from the war, his family was living in Chicago, IL, not Kansas City.

2. Roy was living the family house on Bellefontaine Ave. at the time.

3. When You Wish Upon a Star was written by Leigh Harline and Ned Washington for Pinocchio (1940)