A few months before I left Los Angeles I met Walter C. Lanyon, a delightful man and, as he himself freely admitted, more than a little eccentric. Walter was born in England of American parents. He had traveled the world over, missing very little of what it had to offer, so he said. Standing not more than five feet tall, and in his late seventies or early eighties when I met him, he seemed almost to be a prankish elf. His general appearance was that of an elderly man who could have used the help of someone to look after him, to make sure his shoes were shined and his necktie straight.

Walter had studied Christian Science, among other things, and could play the piano, and discuss art and literature knowledgeably. Now and then he went on a binge of impressionist oil painting. He called it "messing around" and the results were proof, but the paintings sold to his friends, who happened to love anything Walter did. When he was not writing and lecturing on truth principles, he would write novels and travel books under another name. In that way, when he felt like withdrawing from the public eye, he could still earn enough money to meet his needs.

I had written to him in the care of his publisher, De Vorss & Company, a distributor of metaphysical books then based in Los Angeles. A few days later, while washing the breakfast dishes, I looked out the window and observed a white Cadillac coupe come to a stop across the street. Its occupant emerged, crossed the street, and soon the doorbell rang. When I opened the door Walter said, "Are you Roy Eugene? I'm Walter Lanyon." His unannounced arrival was, I came to learn, characteristic of Walter. He was a spontaneous person.

He told me a story during our first meeting. He had been, he said, driving to San Diego once a week to speak for a large Religious Science church, where about 800 persons gathered weekly to hear him. The previous week he had driven to the church and, fifteen minutes into his talk, had discovered that he had nothing more to say on that occasion. He simply said to the audience, "That's it! See you next week!" He then walked to his car and drove back to Los Angeles. The following week the auditorium was full to overflowing, because everyone wanted to see this unpredictable speaker!

One day, after we had lunched together, he looked at me and said, "When I look at you I see this inner light in your breast. I have the gift, you know. I can see things. You have this inner light and seem to be holding it in. Why don't you let it out?"

[snip]

After arrangements had been made, and before I left Los Angeles for Miami, Walter and I met by chance near a supermarket where I had gone to shop for food. He pretended surprise, assumed a pose reminiscent of gunfighters about to "shoot it out," and challenged, "What are you still doing here? I told you to get out of town!"

We talked for a few minutes while I explained my plans. He was happy for me, and even attended my seminar on the following weekend, "just to check me out," he later told me.

(Reprinted with permission from the book, "God Has Given Us Every Good Thing" by Roy Eugene Davis)

Note: The above narrative, which paints an interesting picture of Walter Lanyon, contains two factual errors. Walter was born in the United States, and he was 71 years old at the time described in the narrative (1958).