Like a Replicant, Dick Just Blended In Here

Catherine Cate recalls with conversational ease the midafternoon palavers in the courtyard that began as teas and mutated into margarita-sipping sessions. She remembers the bonhomie of the group, the comfort of their lives at that point in time and, as part of it all, her exposure to the somewhat mysterious friend in the third-floor corner condo who turned out to be someone famous.

It’s 20 years gone, but Cate is happily reflecting on her and her neighbors’ times with Philip K. Dick, the science fiction-writer- thinker-eccentric who helped brighten those midafternoons in the old Civic Center Plaza apartment complex in Santa Ana.

In the subculture of sci-fi fans who perhaps see the world differently than other people, Dick resides in the literary pantheon. A novel of his became the inspiration for the 1982 cult classic “Blade Runner.” A short story inspired “Total Recall” with Arnold Schwarzenegger and yet another is the source of “Minority Report,” the Steven Spielberg-Tom Cruise collaboration that is expected to be a summer blockbuster.

Dick’s legend remains intact long after his death, but to Cate and the small group of other Santa Ana residents who came to know him before he died in 1982, he was the reclusive but genial neighbor who rarely flaunted what he did. “If he talked about his writing, I don’t remember,” Cate says.

Indeed, to the contrary ...

“He didn’t let anyone in his place,” Cate says. “He was very reclusive. The only person I know of who went in was a mutual neighbor.”

But Dick was hardly unfriendly. He was just unusual.

“There was a group of us, including Phil, whose schedules allowed us to be home by 3:30 or 4 in the afternoon,” she says.

“There was a lovely three-tiered fountain out there in the courtyard and, one by one, we’d all go sit at the table by the fountain. We started with tea, then wine, then beer, then we’d be making margaritas. We’d sit out and chat till it was cold and dark and we couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Phil would come down. I didn’t know who this guy was. Pretty soon, someone told me who he was. He was paranoid. That was one of the things he made clear early on--’You never heard of me. If anyone asks about me, you tell them nothing about me and you tell me immediately.’ He wanted all of us to understand that where he lived was absolutely confidential. He said people had been out to get him. I got the impression it was either the FBI or the CIA.”

If that sounds kooky, Cate says it wasn’t off-putting at the time. Dick’s reclusive nature was but another element in the group’s eclecticism.

Dick was already living in the complex in 1980 when Cate and her husband arrived. Its apartments had just been converted to condos, and the Cates--who still live just three blocks away--were among the first ones in.

“Phil chose to buy his condo, but I believe he chose not to have any renovations done,” Cate recalls. “He kept the old green shag carpeting.”

Dick began writing in the early 1950s, but suffered a stroke in early 1982 and died in March of that year. A Web site biography says he had “a string of bad marriages and was addicted to drugs.”

What Cate remembers from the casual afternoons in the courtyard, however, was his unique take on the world.

“When Phil started talking, I found myself nodding in agreement, but his intellect was on such a different plane than most of us that it was hard in some ways to converse with him. Especially having no background in science fiction.”

But Cate says Dick was no stuffed shirt. He gave her an autographed book that, as a non-fan, she later gave to a friend who in turn gave it to someone else. Dick was so insistent on privacy, Cate says, that rumors sprang up about whether he faked his death. The last time Cate saw Dick before he died, he was frail and without vigor, though only 53.

“He died before ‘Blade Runner’ actually made it to the screen, but it was in the works,” she says.

Memorial services were held at nearby Episcopal Church of the Messiah. The Rev. Bradford Karelius, who officiated and still serves the church, remembers that a producer associated with “Blade Runner” donated $1,000 to a charity for the homeless that Dick also had supported.

Looking back, Cate says Dick’s presence in her midst is symbolic of how Santa Ana absorbs people from all walks of life.

“He was a perfect example of someone who came to this city and found a place for himself and was accepted on his terms,” she says.

“I don’t know where he came from. He literally existed for us in a specific time and place.”

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Readers may reach Parsons at (714) 966-7821, at The Times’ Orange County edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or at dana.parsons@latimes.com.