Very often, an incident in childhood suggests the sort of person that child will be when he has grown up. Such was the case with Jonathan Crane…
There once was a young boy named Jonathan. After he’d finished his homework (which was always quickly – he was a very smart boy) he would go to the roof of his apartment building or to the park. There, he watched people and the way they reacted to what went on around them. He saw every reaction.
He’d seen a ring bring a cry of joy, or an awkward laugh, or tears, though not always of joy. He’d seen a whisper cause a red face, either from a blush or from a slap. He’d seen angry words bring more angry words. He’d seen nothing bring a smile. He’d seen nothing bring tears. He always wondered about what he couldn’t hear. What was whispered or that silent something.
But the shout. That really intrigued him. You didn’t always need to hear what was being shouted to tell what was going on. There were three main kinds of shouts: joy, anger, and fear. The shout signified an extreme in emotion, where someone loses control and can only shout.
The shout of joy was unextraordinary. It was always the same. The same things could bring it about in anyone. The shout of anger was only a bit more interesting. It was simple matter of context. Observation usually made the trigger apparent.
But the shout of fear, that was a different matter entirely. It varied widely from person to person. Sometimes there wasn’t even a shout, but there was always a reaction, no matter how small. You just needed to observe closely. Joy and frustration could sometimes be absent, fear was always there. And it was what people were less likely to show.
People’s attitudes toward fear fascinated him too. Fear was something to be kept secret, hidden, and thus protected and nurtured. Rather than embracing and conquering it, they allowed it to grow and fester.
Jonathan decided when he was boy that he wanted to help people conquer their fears.
He would smile to himself about his resolve and then he would see birds gathered on the rooftop, or near a fountain. The boy would spring up and run at them, shouting and waving his arms.
Who better to help? For, you see, Jonathan Crane knew no fear.
The University Of The Bizarre 