I won’t exaggerate. Ray Bradbury and I weren’t inseparable buddies who hung out together all the time. But…I was honored to have him as a friend.

This year, and this month, are both anniversaries of major events in his life. That’s the life of the man who wrote The Halloween Tree, The October Country, The Illustrated Man, Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, and much more. And with current headline news warning us of things he warned us about decades ago….

Childhood and Mr. Electrico

Ray Bradbury, the author of science fiction, horror, fantasy, and more, was born August 22, 1920. He passed away on June 5, 2012, making 2024 the 12th anniversary of his death. And Bradbury was inspired to become a writer, apparently in October, when he was 12 years old.

People’s childhood memories are not always consistent. But Bradbury said one of the most important events of his life happened in October of 1932. That was very soon after the 12-year-old’s uncle was murdered. Bradbury saw a show starring Mr. Electrico. This was part of a visiting circus or carnival that was in the area of Bradbury’s hometown of Waukegan, and of Chicago, Illinois. Mr. Electrico sat in an electric chair while a stagehand pulled a switch. Lightning flashed in the sitting man’s eyes and his hair stood on end as he was hit with fifty thousand volts of electricity! But the man somehow survived. Mr. Electrico then tapped Bradbury and exclaimed, “Live forever!” After his uncle’s funeral, Bradbury returned and talked to the man. Those encounters were what inspired him to do what he did a few days later. He started to write.

Or so the story goes. By another account, Bradbury met Mr. Electrico in September 1932. And, to this day, the existence and identity of Mr. Electrico remain a mystery. But, important to me, during that show Ray Bradbury was sitting in the front row.

Why does that matter?

First Meeting

I first planned to see the author in person shortly after I started going to college. I had been introduced to science fiction literature a few years earlier by a much older female relative. She had subscribed to a science fiction magazine back in the day when scifi was “something for teen-aged boys and young men.” Not something for a grandmotherly woman, one who cooked and cleaned and painted traditional landscapes, to be reading. But she read it anyway.

So I became a fan of Bradbury, and of literary science fiction in general, somewhere around age 12 to 14. At those ages and later, I, like Bradbury, practically lived in a library. When I was in high school, it was against the rules for students to be in the main building, where the library was, during lunch. But I had a signed pass to enter the “forbidden zone.” I helped the librarian, who was also one of my main writing teachers, during lunchtime. That’s when I wasn’t reading or checking out books by Ray Bradbury and others in the nearby public library. So later, when I heard one of my favorites authors was coming to speak at my college….

I “somehow” managed to be the first person to get into the auditorium. Don’t ask me how. Could it have been, “If you do me a favor and let me in early, I’ll do you a favor later on?” I won’t tell.

So yes, I sat in the front row. Like Bradbury did to see Mr. Electrico. In my case, I sat in the exact center of the front row with a tape recorder on my lap. Anybody remember those? (I mean tape recorders, not laps.) I was concerned because I didn’t know if I had the right to record his speech. And, sitting as I was right in front of the podium where he was soon to speak, it would be pretty obvious I was recording.

Soon many others took seats in the auditorium. Then, on stage, Ray Bradbury was the man who came from behind the curtain. (And yes, the 1939 fantasy film The Wizard of Oz occurred to me. Although I didn’t know at the time 1939 was also the first year of the publication of Bradbury’s magazine Futuria Fantasia). The author walked on stage and headed toward the podium. Then Ray Bradbury, THE Ray Bradbury, looked at me. I pointed to the recorder. He didn’t tap my shoulders and nose like Mr. Electrico did for him. But he did nod his head to me. So I recorded his speech.

There was one thing he said that I remember most. Unfortunately, the tape I recorded was later lost or destroyed, so I don’t have the exact quote. But keep in mind Bradbury called himself a student of the library, and was never a college student. In front of us college students, he pointed to the exit doors. He said that, if someone said there was a dinosaur outside? We’d look. And guess what? A bunch of us turned our heads to look toward the doors. And honestly, the thought passed through my head: could there really be a dinosaur outside?

More Connections

Later, I was cast in Neil Simon’s semi-autobiographical play Chapter Two. And I soon learned the mother of one of my fellow cast members knew Ray Bradbury! And had even acted in one of his plays. So another connection.

It went from there. I got to visit Ray several times. (Although when I think of him as a writer and not as a friend, I still see his name as Bradbury.) One of my fondest memories was visiting with him in connection with a school where I worked in the computer lab. As far as I know, Ray never used a computer. But in spite of that, he didn’t hold my teaching elementary school students how to use a computer against me.

Perhaps my favorite in-person memory of him is this: one day we conversed in what may be the most appropriate place in the world. A library. A library that contained both of our writings. Excuse me why I wipe my eyes. (And no, I am not kidding. And now I remember Bradbury said that, after he saw Mr. Electrico, he cried.)

I have another personal but at-a-distance memory I’ll get to soon.

Awards and Anniversaries

First, a quick list of some of Ray Bradbury’s award anniversaries that fit this year ending in a 4:

American Academy of Arts and Letters (1954)
Inkpot Award (1974)
Prometheus Award (1984)
Peggy V. Helmerich Distinguished Author Award (1994)
Emmy Award (1994)
National Medal of Arts (2004)

And back in 1934, Ray Bradbury’s family settled in Los Angeles–when he was 14. That was the age when he made his first professional writing sale. He sold a joke to George Burns to use on the Burns and Allen radio show.

Memories and the Future

Bradbury was ahead of his age and his time. His fiction of decades ago dealt with issues that later became headline news — some of them right now.

His novel Fahrenheit 451 told of book banning and “witch hunts” — not long before the Army–McCarthy hearings of 1954. And it, like his stories “The Murderer,” “The Pedestrian,” and “The Veldt,” warned about over-reliance on technology. And he warned of oversimplification in news media, and of harmful effects on young people who spent too much time being electronically entertained. (As both a journalist and an educator who taught computer lab students, I can relate.) Those stories were written long before the current concerns about technology’s harmful effects on both student learning and psychological health. And that’s before the modern day rash of simplified and misleading journalism, and the banning of thousands of books in school libraries.

For his Artificial Intelligence, self-driving cars, recycling, trips to outer space, warnings of discrimination (including reverse discrimination), and more? Read his books.

Finally, one of my fondest memories of Ray Bradbury was when we weren’t together. I had mentioned my favorite part of his first talk that I heard in person. That was him joking about there being a dinosaur outside the building. So for a present, he shipped me a signed copy of one of his story collections: Dinosaur Tales — which was delivered outside the building.

I miss you, Ray Bradbury.