The Long, Lost Rose of El Dorado

"To Bring A Lady a Rose"

"You know, there's an old haunted museum downtown."

"Haunted?" I repeated, unsure if I had heard that correctly.

That was several years ago, on a fateful autumn day, when I was younger and trekking across the states every week as a regional art purchaser for the Nelson Atkins Art Museum in Kansas City. I was passing through south-central Kansas on the turnpike, on the way from Oklahoma City to my next business meeting in Omaha, when I had decided to stop off somewhere in-between on a hunch.

"Yeah, it's really hokey and scary, and everyone in town thinks the place is haunted by a ghost!" the young gas attendant explained in a dramatic tone of voice. He was a skinny kid, with a trendy bouffant hairstyle, and despite his grimy employment, the young man attempted a fashionable appearance, wearing a black turtleneck underneath his Skelly Oil workshirt, mixed in with rolled up designer jeans and black denim Converse shoes.

"Is that so?" I said dubiously. "Who would be haunting an art museum?"

"Well," the amusing boy said, knowing he had captured my attention, "Do you know who Marion Koogler McNay is?" He turned his wrist over to place his hand on his hip.

I smirked slightly. The young man had learned of my profession earlier in our casual conversation, but he had underestimated my knowledge of the local art history. Marion Koogler McNay was a famous painter and art teacher who had actually grown up in the area. She had inherited a fortune from the family oil business, before eventually moving away and willing her estate to establish the first art museum in San Antonio Texas in 1954.

"Yes, I'm familiar with her," I replied, trying not to be condescending.

"Well then, you probably also know that Marion got married five times in her lifetime." The boy leaned in closer to me to whisper as if he were spreading gossip. "The rumor goes that her one true love was actually a high school sweetheart from here in El Dorado." The gas attendant raised his eyebrows in mock scandal, and then continued. "The young gentleman was so broken-hearted when Marion didn't return home that he refused to ever marry, and spent all of his latter years starting up a tribute museum here in town. Tragically, the man died before Marion ever returned home. Now, Marion's ghost haunts the abandoned museum."

Intrigued, I thought maybe my satellite business trip hadn't completely ended in vain. A couple of years earlier, I had had a client from the nearby region with whom I had brokered a deal for an art exhibition to be displayed at his local town museum. So on this fall day I thought I would make an unannounced business visit since I happened to be in the general area.

Unfortunately, it wasn't even noontime before I was already driving back out of town, disappointed because my gamble on the surprise visit hadn't panned out -- my work contact happened to be in Denver -- and so my hope for an additional business deal that week sank. On my way out, I happened to stop at a local gas station in the town of El Dorado, Kansas, when I first heard mention of the local haunted art museum.

"Where is the museum located?"

"It's somewhere downtown. I can take you there myself," the attendant offered eagerly. "Later, after work."

I stopped to consider my travel plans, but before I could respond, the young man thrust himself forward for a more firm and immediate commitment.

"Are you interested?"

I pondered the friendly man's intent, and glanced at the work name tag on his shirt that read "Chrys." It was clear Chrys was interested in a more social get-together after work.

"Uh, Christopher," I started uneasily.

"It's Chrys," he corrected me, "with a 'Y,' " he emphasized, as if he were talking about his chromosomes.