From: Andrea Den Otter [crashingwaves@mailcity.com]
Sent: Thursday, April 20, 2000 11:16 AM
To: Goodbye@Goreyography.com
Subject: Looking for Mr. Gorey

I will always remember my first and only sighting of the wiley Mr. Gorey during an east coast road trip in 1997. I had pulled my van over to look at some books in a used bookstore that occupied the first floor of an old house in a small town on Cape Cod. During a casual scan of boxes on a table, I found one full of Edward Gorey prints. I was surprised and pleased, but didn't have the money to spare. I commented on the prints to the cashier (who actually owned the store) and mentioned how much I like Gorey's work. "Oh, really?" he said. "Did you see him?" "See who?" I asked. "Edward Gorey. He just left. Didn't you see him walking past you?" "You're joking right?" He reached into his register and pulled out a credit card receipt. Yep, it was the old boy's signature. I was floored. He had been in the same room with me and I hadn't even realized it; but this wasn't surprising considering the fact that I had never seen a picture of him. "Damn. Wish I had known it. Oh well, a near b!
rush with genius. Do you know if 'Jack's Outback' is a good place to eat?" I had read about it in a Lonely Planet guidebook. "Actually, that's where Ed goes for lunch every day. In fact, that was where he was headed for right now." I immediately asked for Gorey's physical description and the owner directed me to a book that had a picture of the elusive Gorey. Off I went, trying to follow his trail. After braving the Outback's anti-tourist sign, I went inside, ordered at the counter, and spied an empty table.  At first I didn't see him, but I did see his table. Or at least it had to be his, since it was the only one overflowing with books. I casually walked by, cocking my head at an acute angle in an attempt to read the French titles (high school French doesn't last forever), then sat at a corner table a discreet distance from his table. Trying not to look obvious, I scanned the room and !ah ha! there he was: freely rooting around in the restaurant's refrigerator. He looked jus!
t like what I had imagined. He had the same aristocratic, yet bored bearing of one of the characters in his cartoons (the human toons, of course). I ate my sandwich and occasionally glanced at him as he read Chekhov and ate some fruit. Then I left. I didn't ask for his autograph..just seeing him had been enough. Then, this past Monday morning, a coworker in my office offhandedly mentioned that Edward Gorey had died over the weekend. Surprising myself, and my coworker, I started to cry. Why couldn't you have held on longer Gorey? I guess it was your time...just know that I will always remember you and how your drawings (the PBS Mystery intro, illustrations in Bellairs' books, etc.) enhanced my imagination during my childhood and adult years. Au revoir, Monsieur Gorey.

Andrea Den Otter


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