In his mid-thirties and no longer the handsome Lochinvar of his youth, his face has been weathered by tropic sun and ocean winds and worn by various tropical infections and fevers. His dark brown hair is still thick. His grey eyes are keen, glittering palely with the iron determination of his spirit. This is a man with his eyes on a far horizon.

His tall body is spare, but powerful, still showing the quickness and strength of the defensive and offensive end he played on the Columbia football eleven. His various scars are hidden beneath his clothes, which are moderately priced and somewhat worn, though well-maintained. This is a man who takes good care of his tools and his kit.

His bass voice is apt to rumble when he is displeased, but rarely is raised to a shout. His vocabulary has also coarsened since his days as a callow literature student, when he was innocent of the depths of human suffering and sorrow. Now it is marked by too much time in rugged places with hard-bitten men. This is a man not to be taken lightly.

His soul is kept safe within his breast, not worn on his sleeve. This is a man that has seen the suffering and death of animals and men, and caused too much of both as well.

Background

Walter's parents, Willard Eustis Brandon and Pamela Downey Brandon, were prominent members of New York society. As their only son, Walter was raised with every privilege, though his grandfather, Commodore Abner Downey (USN retd), also insisted that he be brought up as a manly little chap and saw to it that he learned to shoot and ride and handle small boats.

Walter attended Phillips Academy at Andover and matriculated at Columbia College in New York, where he played Junior Varsity football and was selected for St. Anthony Hall, the literary society. Walter majored in Literature, being particularly taken with the old French chansons de geste, embarking on an original 3000 line composition in the same style. When a professor pronounced his work not just bon but beau, he acquired his nickname. He became something of a protege to his cousin, Jackson Elias, two years his senior and was set to succeed him as editor of the literary magazine when disaster struck.

In the summer of 1908 (just before Walter's senior year), Willard Brandon was faced with financial ruin. Having lost a great deal of money at several gambling clubs, he embezzled funds from his investment firm, only to lose that amount and more. When his creditors threatened to expose his impecunities (and to bring forth a woman prepared to swear to an illicit affair and the birth of a bastard child), Willard shot himself. The Commodore made good his losses to prevent scandal, though it cost him dearly. Pamela took ill and died a few weeks after her husband.

Rumors about the cause of Willard's suicide were soon whispered and then recounted in the scandal sheets. Walter's fiancee, Rosella Dellinger, broke off their engagement. Desperate to escape the whispers, Walter went aboard a merchant ship as a stoker under the pseudonym Bo Downey.

Thus began a three-decade journey during which he guided hunts and explorations in jungles from the Yucatan to the Amazon (including Jackson Elias in 1910), guided geological surveys in West Africa, served in French campaigns against German Togoland and Kamerun from 1914 through 1916, volunteered for American service in France but was rejected due to several tropical infections, worked his way back to the Americas, mined for gold in Mexicos Sierra Madre, and eventually ended up in New Orleans in 1922, where he went to work driving boats and trucks for bootleggers. While in New Orleans he again made contact with Jackson Elias, prompting a return trip to New York.