A Magical Beginning Begins
A Magical Beginning Begins
A Magical Beginning …keep the child inside you burning
This week, I’m resharing a post from my archives initially posted on September 1, 2023, when I began my writing journey here with only about 100 Subscribers. My Substack has grown over the months to just over 2,000, with many new subscribers joining us each week. To celebrate this fantastic milestone I never expected in my wildest dreams; I extend my thanks to my supporters and a warm welcome to my new readers with my original post A Magical Beginning, a piece that likely went unnoticed when I had only 100 subscribers, but it truly was a magical beginning and I thank all my readers for helping me achieve my goals beyond my imagination! You all Rock! 🤗✨💖✨ So without further ado…
Greetings!
A warm welcome to all the new subscribers and readers here at The Charlotte Pendragon Diaries. Your presence is greatly appreciated!
In this edition, I’ve included photos which weren’t included in my original post! Enjoy the magical experience!
One question I’ve been asked often by people I meet on the road is, “How and why did you choose to become a magician?” I always answer, “ I didn’t choose magic; magic chose me.”
Magic indeed chose me, not the other way around. My career in magic didn’t begin in the classic sense, like a kid learning magic from various sources like joining clubs, reading magazines and books, videos, etc. Probably what shaped me most in pursuing a career as a magician was my love for the whimsical. As a child growing up, I lived in a world of make-believe.
I was blessed to have parents who encouraged my participation in theatrical activities like dance and performing in plays, as well as art and music. On top of those interests were athletics like gymnastics, baton twirling, skating, swimming, and diving. (In the summertime, my brothers and I never got out of the pool. We lived in the water.) I learned to swim when I was three by being thrown in the Templeton, California, park pool by my Dad. At least, that is the story told to me by my parents.
When we weren’t swimming, we were building mazes and forts out in the vast empty fields where grass grew higher than our heads, or we were riding horses or bikes. … always something. All these childhood activities helped shape my eventual love for performing magic.
I remember one day, my brother Harry played in the laundry room, which was part of what we called the rumpus room. It was a guest house or casita with a bath. But we made it our play house.
We had an old ringer washing machine and were instructed never to touch it. But one day, we were curious like adolescent kittens and played with the washing machine. We started by running several towels through the machine we found in the bathroom. Then, for some unknown reason, Harry did the unthinkable and thought it would be a good idea to try running his hand through the machine. Of course, it ended in disaster.
I ran into the house, screaming behind my brother. I told our parents that a snake had bitten my brother. He crushed his hand so they knew I was deceptive. I can’t remember being in trouble, but they quickly realized we had been playing with the washing machine. I think they knew I was defending my brother. As far as Harry? I don’t think my parents scolded him. My mother was a nurse and quickly drove him to the hospital.
Years later, I sat next to my brother dying in the ICU unit in the Arroyo Grande Hospital, dying from a supposed self-inflicted gunshot wound to his head. I sat crying as I held his hand and felt the scars he had from playing years ago with the washing machine. That was our final connection as I said goodbye. Talk about comedy and tragedy? Right?
I had a Dad who was both boyish and older (he was 50 years my senior), and he used to encourage my preternatural experience. He would inspire me to bring out the child in me, even as a teen about to graduate from high school and move on to college. He was encouraging me to do the things l loved. Daddy gave me the best advice, “Follow your passions and dreams, and you will never work a day in your life.” That’s the advice I took along with me as I transcended from my childhood to becoming an independent adult college student, where I encountered for the first time the wonder of stage magic.
It was at the University of California, Irvine that I saw a professional magician for the first time. Andre Kole performs for 100s of college students on our campus. The audience was packed with students, and Andre did not disappoint. Later, after the show, I introduced myself to him, and I told him I was just amazed by his stage feats. That night in bed, I was still mesmerized by that evening’s performance. Off into dreamland I went that night, imagining myself on stage performing magic.
The following week or so, happenstance hit, and I met Claude Yarbrough (the future Jonathan Pendragon) while I was playing around on the diving boards while taking a break from swimming monotonous laps practicing for the next swim meet. Claude watched me dive, and I noticed him because of his white, almost transparent skin tone. At the time, he was affectionately nicknamed Snowball by his teammates. An appropriate nickname for him, because no matter how much sun he never tanned.
Claude approached me and suggested a few changes in my diving technique to better my dives. We talked, and we both loved gymnastics, so he invited me to a gymnastics class that evening. He also told me he was a magician, but I thought Claude said he was a musician. Imagine my shock when I entered his place the first time, and instead of seeing a guitar on his wall, which I expected, there was a straight jacket. We sorted out the mistake in communication, and I drew my attention to the straight jacket. I didn’t know Claude well, so as far as I knew, he could have been a serial killer… but I was too curious to let that thought cross my mind. Plus, Claude was pretty cute with a childlike demeanor. I might win some romantic points if I could get out of the straight jacket. So I asked if I could try it. And he obliged. And escape I did, but not before Claude planted a kiss on my cheek for good luck. That night began our romantic and professional legacy.
We were both students at what now is the Claire Trevor School of Arts at the University of California, Irvine. Claude studied theater arts, and I was enrolled in the dance program. Both of us shared common interests, so in a nanosecond, we joined forces and performed our first show together at the famous Los Angeles Renaissance Faire, where we dawned Elizabethan costumes and accents and hit the stages with a variety of combinations of magic, gymnastics, and stunts, along with some comedy. No anachronisms were allowed, so we had to continue as our characters throughout the day; after refining our show and learning to be better buskers, we were making close to $100 a day back in 1976. I had to pinch myself because, as a summertime lifeguard and swim instructor to help with my college expenses, I was making about $15 a day. How is it I left my quiet rural existence and ended up here in this world of make-believe? As well as creating an excellent living while a full-time student. It was surreal. It felt like the Twilight Zone meets Alice in Wonderland. Seriously! So, the course of my life changed just as the wind does…when it mysteriously alters its direction. And off I went on my first magical carpet ride, practicing my Dad’s advice and following my dreams.
Now let me take you back in time a bit and tell you about how I grew up. I grew up living primarily in California, although my hometown will always be Kalispell, Montana, where I was born. My parents moved when I was almost three to the rural Central Coast of California, where we lived near the ocean before our family relocated to the Central Valley agricultural region of Porterville. Then Porterville’s population was about 17,000 compared to now which it is over 62,000. But a lot of that growth is due to annexing areas. The Provence of California is what I call it. And just like the French Provence, the pastoral landscape with its many green fields, beautiful trees, rich farmland, and ranches that go on as far as the eyes can see, as well as a perfect Main St, nestled in a pocket of land surrounded on three sides by foothills and the Sierra Nevadas was the ideal backdrop to live a charmed Norman Rockwell existence. And a charmed life my three brothers and older sis and I lived. Not always perfect, but we were very fortunate kids growing up in the idyllic part of the 50s and 60s. Growing up as a baby boomer, I was heavily shaped by those magic times in America, even though a beloved assassinated President, a war in Vietnam, and social revolutions cracked some of that glaze. It was still a magical era filled with hope and dreams for the future.
The 70s arrived, bringing with it a leader who was forced to resign as President of the United States of America, as well as a failed war that cost thousands and thousands of American and foreign lives. That’s how the 70s began. But for me, I saw this as a new beginning for everything. It was the cusp between these two points of time - 1969 and 1970 when I entered much anticipated high school.
It was during the height of my puberty in the summer of 1969 when I attended my first high school dance and became interested in boys. But there was only one boy that interested me at the time, and his name was Randy Lessley. The summer dances, where live bands played popular pop and rock and roll songs, were held once a week. The school administration invited all students to attend. So this is where I saw Randy, for the first time, at my first high school dance. And it was puppy teen love at first sight. My very best pal, whom I had known since seventh grade and connected at the hip, Leanna Hensley (Ameen now), and I went with her older sister Renges to our first dance. Renges was a year older and taught us everything we needed to know about the protocol at the dances. She was a cool gal who was fashionable and popular and even sang occasionally with bands. Renges gave us many valuable tips.
So, the night of our first dance, I remember me and Leanna being genuinely excited and preparing for the evening at her place with Renges supervising us and giving us valuable fashion and make-up advice.
I can’t remember how we arrived at the dance, but most kids came with their parents dropping them off. I don’t think we were any different. I can’t tell you much about the particulars of that evening except when I first walked into the high school cafeteria, I looked up at the band, and all I saw was Randy standing there singing and playing the guitar. I remember our eyes connecting (at least I thought they did), and I was immediately in love—my first real teenage crush.
I remember having a lot of fun with my friends and dancing the night away, but of course, I was very disappointed I wasn’t dancing with Randy. But the plus is I got to watch him play his guitar and perform. He reminded me of one of the Beatles or the Monkees, who were very popular during that time period. Leanna and I once went to a slumber party with a few other girls. Before dawning our pajamas, we were all dressed in mini skirts and go-go boots popular during that time as we danced to the music of The Monkees. In my imagination, I was not in Porterville but instead in a cosmopolitan city like London—a magical trip in my head.
After that dance, I saw Randy at many other dances but only saw him playing in the band. Until one night in 1969, I attended one at the Porterville High School girl's gym. His band wasn’t playing, but he was there. I found this out when I turned my back, and somebody tapped me on my shoulder, and I turned around and looked at Randy face-to-face. And all my brain could conjure up at that moment was - my big crush wants to dance with me? I don’t know if he was afraid I would say no, but of course, I said yes, and we were together the rest of the night. It was even Randy who took me home.
Within a few weeks of dating, Randy gave me his school ring to wear, fortifying me as his official sweetheart. I wore it proudly! And we continued a romantic relationship from that moment on.
Randy played music most weekends, so our dates were be at places he’d play. Occasionally, one of the other popular bands would perform, and we would go on a traditional date. One of these bands was a group called The Sullies an exceptional group from Hanford, with one member, a good friend of Randy’s from Porterville - Rick Stephen, and another member, Bill Bilhou, originally from Porterville. Also included in this band was famed musician Steve Perry, who eventually went on to play with Journey. So Randy and I danced the night away on one of our first dates to the voice of Steve Perry. But I didn’t notice Steve because my eyes were totally focused on Randy.
Years later, Randy played a long-term gig in Hanford with his band San Andreas Fault when Steve Perry visited them almost every night to hang out and play with Randy’s band. In fact, in this publication, I am including a recording of Steve Perry singing Summertime from Porky and Bess with Randy and San Andreas Fault during one of those performances.
So my second year of high school began with dating Randy, and by late springtime, I was left devastated as he broke up with me, anticipating his graduation from high school and future, which wasn’t including a 16-year-old girlfriend. Can you say heartbreak? Remember, we had just transcended the late 60s into the 70s. The love revolution had taken root. So it was to Randy who I gave up my virginity. As immature teenagers, we thought with our hearts and passion at the time.
By the end of the ’60s and early ’70s, a time of social revolution, it was like we were given the okay and freedom to do so. I believe that first love combines DNA and endlessly remains. That’s why, fast-forwarding from the early 70s to 2009, when I serendipitously reencountered Randy, we immediately picked up where we left off, first by him apologizing for the the regret he felt because of taking something from me he felt he didn’t deserve. A guilt he carried with him his whole life. As a spiritual person he had been greatly affected by his indiscretion during our teen years. Given the chance to reunite with me was his divine chance to correct his past inequity. And of course I forgave him. To ease his conscious I told to him I couldn’t have lost my virginity to a sweeter guy. The same spark, which was ignited when we were teens, grew into a romantic flame that couldn’t be extinguished. And our union as spiritual and romantic partners began in the early winter days of our lives. That time of year when the trees bear no leaves, right before the first snow.
As older adults, we had a lot more in common than not. We are both from rural Porterville, California. Randy grew up on a six hundred-acre farm in the remote countryside about five miles from the little town of Pixley, California. At the same time, I lived a little bit closer to town in the country, located just on the outskirts of town. We both grew up with a religious Baptist upbringing and background. We had both in our later in our teenage years go independently and temporarily got involved with the Jesus movement. And, of course, we shared our passion for entertainment, music, and magic. As a boy growing up in the country, one of Randy‘s hobbies was magic and drawing. Until he saw the Beatles for the first time in the fifth grade, he wanted to be an artist for Disney. So, we both had a lot in common when we met again in 2009.
We joined our talents and recently named our entertainment union The Magic & The Music. During our first collaboration together, Randy wrote all the original music for my full evening stage show- It’s All An Illusion- where I rap sing Charlotte style in a few of my songs. We are anticipating the launch of our website sometime in early 2024, where we will be featuring magic from my show in vignettes and premiering those along with Randy’s own conceptual performances of his original music.
It's All An Illusion, by Randy Lessley
A little aside - I will keep all my readers updated on the launch of our future website. And all I can do is thank you all for your fabulous support.
The one thing many people who meet Randy and I ask us is when we talk about our future together is, “when are you going to retire”? As of right now there are no plans to retire because we are doing what we love. We haven’t worked a day in our lives. Thank you Daddy for that sage advice. When we reunited, we were both coming out of our own troubled waters. My ending with Jonathan was tragic and it left both of us broke, not just financially but also emotionally. And I can only describe the pressure from that type of breakup as disastrous. Experts warn this type of high stress can possibly cause heart attacks and death. Add to this trauma that eight and a half months prior, my beloved brother Harry, whom I had been close to since he was born, took his life. It was only a short four months before my brother took his life that my cousin Roland, who I had become close to, was murdered in cold blood while answering his door one night. Bear in mind Randy was coming out of his own situation where he had moved to Florida one day before 9/11 hit and greatly impacted the entertainment market of that area and he was forced to return home to California. Because of the state of the economy begrudgingly many people were compelled to change their courses of life following 9/11 and the economic crash of 2008, which led many financially stable families to face bankruptcy and foreclosure challenges. Jonathan and I were eventually victims of that crash.
So Randy and I entered a commitment to a relationship, knowing that we had to mend each other souls and grow ourselves back up from scratch in every way. Beginning at point A. And we were no longer the cute, sweet teenagers from the early 70s with a lifetime to build a future and fulfill our dreams. Instead, we were both artists who had surpassed some of our plans and dreams with a long way to go because we were greatly humbled by hardship. The kind of hardship that when recognized, improves your soul. We both sat down to a desert of humble pie. But some difficulties end up being blessings in disguise.
On this note, I will end my very first blog with a quote from Paulo Coelho: “Not all Storms come to disrupt your life. Some come to clear your path.” Divine intervention.
In my next blog, I’ll discuss those blessings in disguise and the pain I endured to move forward.
God bless you all! 🥰
Thank you for being one of my supporters!
Truly magical, and sad. Your photos are magnetic too. Beautifully expressed, Charlotte. I appreciate your sharing this now.
Superb decision to repost your first Substack piece Charlotte. Reading it as a “flashback” provides a deeper appreciation for your more recent essays. Expectations are now that the effect will carry forward in similar fashion for eagerly awaited future autobiographical works. Happy Easter!