The other contributor who was immeasurably helpful to my research is also a resident of the Bay Area. I first met Linda Arce Hodges when I was performing at the highly esteemed Tomorowland Terrace in Disneyland twenty-something years ago. She was a particularly vociferous voice in the crowd, but as the years went by, she evolved from fan to friend and pen pal, especially regarding our shared interests in theology. Last year, when I asked Linda a minor question about the layout of the approach to the Bay Bridge, her interest became sparked by Ray’s story and the lost world of Treasure Island. Soon, she was playing Paul Drake to my Perry Mason, sending dispatches from the Oakland front as if we were on a transcoastal scavenger hunt for obscure information important only to us: the names of every telephone exchange in San Francisco in 1940, the history of dirigible bases in California, the cost of parking on the Magic Isle. It was Linda who tracked down the lethal ledge on Grizzly Peak and convinced the Alameda Museum (many thanks, Diane Coler-Dark) to let me view a remarkable color home movie taken in 1940 by the Pagano family at Treasure Island, allowing me to see scenes of the Gayway that could not be found anywhere else. I have found my own way of acknowledging Linda, her husband, and her family within this book. It is small recompense for the privilege of having such a fabulous partner in crime.

For their input, I must also thank gifted mystery and romance novelist Laura Hayden, who has always been a generous sounding board for my own work; the deep-feeling Susan Little, educator par excellence, who created a veritable annotated guide to Swing in real time as she read the first draft; and the sensitive and artful writer Lisa Filadelfia, who made a very strong case for a number of important adjustments in the first part of this novel. And I gratefully thank the delightful Emma Esposito, who has been one of my best reference sources on all matters under the sun.

I’m privileged to be the husband of Liza Holmes. If anywhere in this story you find a smattering of goodness, strength, courage, or kindness, then you’ve found Liza, who has given me all of this, and her sustenance, care, guidance, and laughter, for several lifetimes. We have also had occasion to cry together. I treasure you, Liza.

I thank my beloved sons, Nick and Tim, for all the joy, purpose and hope they have given me. Tim is autistic and can’t decipher these words at the present, so I’ll tell him more when I can next embrace him. Nick has done great things with his life while I have been writing this book, and he can take all the credit for that. Each day I feel lucky and proud to be his father.