The Contralto

Rev. Charles Maloy, C. M.
St. Joseph's Parish, Emmitsburg, Md.

Chapter 13 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 1

"The performance, we are happy to say, was an artistic, social, and financial success, and being the first of many contemplated, presages a delightful winter season for Emmitsburg. We may add that some of the principals have talent to warrant efforts in a wider sphere." Thus ended the two column write-up of "The Princess," an operetta, by Frederick Halm, Doc. Mus. In reporting the affair Louis Higbee surpassed himself.

As the appointed date approached, excitement ran high. The New York firm was slow in delivering the proscenium curtain and did the impressario listen to the pleadings of the home artists, the telegraph company would have been materially enriched. The curtain pole, a marvel of grooving and fitting by Uncle Bennett, was ready, the finishing touches put to the work of Stoner and Carrigan, and all waited impatiently the great day of judgment when their product would be aligned with that of the Metropolitan expert. The train had not come to a full stop on the evening before the eventful day, when Bob Crittendon leaping aboard the baggage-car, took a survey of its contents, and with the nearest expression to sorrow that ever rested on his freckled face, announced to those outside, "Nothin' diddin'"

When the news of the non-arrival reached the hall, it spread consternation. Solos went wrong, chorus bungled helplessly in sharps and fiats, feet tangled in dances. Halm, the imperturbable Halm, lost patience. Harry, though he struggled heroically to preserve his calm, was nervous and found the dentist's forced wit hard to tolerate. The tension was so great at the end of the first act, Halm having administered a sharp rebuke, several of the chorus burst into tears. Something must be done to relieve the strain, hence the Professor, mounting the stage, delivered a speech in which he told the young people the curtain was merely an accessory, no one ever paid the least attention to dead canvas when the stage was filled with living beauty, that he was prepared to erect a plain muslin sheet did not the other come, and that the rehearsal go on without more worry.

This had a quieting effect, the rest of the practice proceeded with sufficient smoothness. When all was over, however, none seemed anxious to retire, for young hearts were flustered and fear contended with courage in girlish bosoms. It was near midnight when the groups dispersed, dragging themselves to sleepless beds.

The curtain came on the morning train and was carried to the hall on the shoulders of three boys, followed by the panting expressman holding his book ready to be signed. It was but the work of an hour for Uncle Bennett, helped and hindererd by a dozen volunteers, to mount it, and ropes, rolle and pulleys moved with the precision of clock work. It pictured the duel scene from Romeo and Juliet, while from the upper drapery, Shakespeare, flanked by Mozart and Augustine Daly, looked upon the audience.

The home artists set their wood scene, insisting on the curtain being raised and lowered several times, that comparison might be made. The Professor assuring them the contrast was all in their favor, gave Stoner tickets for himself and family, while Carrigan refusing to accept any, compromised by offering to act as scene shifter.

By noon everything was in readiness, the costumes being prepared under the watchful guidance of Mrs. Halm, who had worked between spells of ill health. Harry and the Rector discussed the coming event at luncheon in minutest detail. The older man had persistently refused to visit the hall during the weeks of preparation, saying he did not wish to spoil his enjoyment of the finished product, but as the Professor well knew, really desirous of showing the fullest confidence in the judgment of the younger man.

Peter reported an astonishing sale of tickets and as it would be moonlight, the farmers for miles around might be expected. Father Flynn accepted the invitation extended through the Rector, assuring the attendance of some hundred boys. He also charged the Rector to report any attempt at disorder his hopefuls might make. Harry made note of this that he might mention it to the Doctor's credit, not relaxing his vigilance in the least, however, for he knew that mandates of college presidents are not always obeyed.

At two o'clock, the boys filed into the hall under the care of six proctors who looked anything but formidable guardians of discipline. They pushed roughly up the stairs, only to halt and sway back-wards as they met the square bulk and steady eye of Tom Greavy at the top. "Slow there, gentlemen," ordered Tom, letting them pass two by two, to be ushered into the choicest seats in the house by the members of the baseball team dressed in their finest.

Covered bridge on Old Emmitsburg Road over Toms Creek looking towards town ~ 1900s
Road Mount Students took to go to Emmitsburg

A few of the largest thanked the Professor, who stood at the door, for his kindness. One with a twinkle in his eye desired to shake hands with the author of "The Musings of a Common Man"—all the boys were reading them; nearly two hundred copies of the Bulletin had run the blockade the past week. White, in philosophy, was at a loss to understand where they were getting the questions they fired at him after each lecture.

The orchestra, composed of local talent carefully drilled in the simple music, struck up the overture, and the crowd ceased talking. The curtain slowly glided up disclosing a bevy of beautiful girls, if that word mean the sweetest product of nature unadorned, the full throated chorus of uncultivated voices broke out and the audience was thrilled. Dainty Miss Topper delivered to her army an exhortation to valor in a voice slightly nasal, a delightful lisp, but with a verve and swing of her trim figure, which made the hearers gasp with wonder. The applause which greeted the finish of her solo was spontaneous, dying in a shrill whistle such as gallery-gods some-times indulge in. This produced a visible shiver in the crowd. Before it passed, however, Tom Greavy stood over the culprit, ghastly with rage. "That will be about all of that, " he said, and those who saw and heard him felt that it would be about all.

The matinee over, Harry hastened behind the scenes to congratulate his boys and girls. Each received a handclasp; one girl, in her enthusiasm, kissing him and then retiring in confusion at her temerity. Forman, emerging from his armor, declared they had the college and academy pushed off the map, had them backed up an alley, and after the evening performance they would need a searchlight to find themselves. On the general rejoicing Tom Greavy entered to tell the Professor that a portion of the college boys were outside desiring to speak to the girls. The dentist ordered Tom to throw a few of them over the balustrade, but Harry restrained him and went to talk to the contingent.

Advancing to the group which shuffled in embarrassment at his approach, he thanked them for their presence, hoped they would honor him again, and advised that they start for home lest they be late for dinner and thus offend Father Flynn.

"Let's see the goils," asked a square faced Cuban, and the others repeated the petition.

"Certainly, if the ladies wish it," assented the Professor, ringing up the curtain and announcing the request at the door of the dressing room, while the expectant youths ranged themselves along the footlights.

"We don't want them," came in many keys from behind the closed door, one shrill voice shouting, "Beat it!" The curtain was lowered as the lady-killers wended their way out of the building.

Before the evening performance the Professor was nervous, issuing orders in themselves contradictory. The smoothness with which the matinee had been run off only tended to worry him lest over-confidence be generated in the minds of the actors. At dinner, despite the solicitude of the Rector, he could not eat, merely drinking several cups of coffee. Meeting Miss Tyson on the semi-darkened stage shortly after seven he said, somewhat sharply,

"Hurry up, please, we must be prompt in starting. "What's the matter with you, Harry?" taking him by the arm.

"Nothing, Miss Tyson, but I don't want any delay."

"There will not be any delay," caressingly; "you are nervous tonight, sit with the audience during the play."

"I know I'm superfluous," he snapped, "but there is no necessity for rubbing it in."

She looked at him for a space, the tears glistening in her eyes while he turned away half in shame for his temper, then walked slowly towards the dressing room, leaving him to the mercies of the dentist, who came up with, "Say, Professor, who is going to make up the ladies?"

"Oh Hell! let them make themselves up, they know more about it than we do," and the dumb-founded Forman joined the crowd in. the men's room.

The orchestra had commenced, the chorus was in place on the stage, Harry stood by Carrigan ready to give the signal for lifting the curtain. The auditorium was crowded, the ushers and Greavy handling the throng with the expertness of professionals. The Rector with several members of the college faculty, Starling and Higbee note paper in hand, occupied seats in the front row. The Rector, pale with expectation, answered questions in an abstracted manner. The newspapermen overlooked the crowd and their good-natured faces were sufficient to awaken enthusiasm in all who saw.

The Professor's heart thumped as it had done but once before in his memory, on the occasion when "Big Blondy" had planted the ball on Harvard's five-yard line after dragging half of the opposing team from the twenty mark. He recalled what he had done then and moistened his lips with his tongue. The curtain was up to a murmur of admiration, another splendid start of the operetta was made. Carrigan wound the ropes round the swivel, went back and sat down, while Harry leaned wearily against the wall.

"What's the matter?" whispered Jimmy, "you're tremblin' like a leaf," fingering his pocket.

"What have you there?"

In answer he produced a flask which the Professor seized, extracted the cork, and took a long pull, altogether unmindful of a pair of brown eyes that watched him through the lane of singers, from the opposite wing where Miss Tyson waited for her cue. In a moment a flush came back to his face, the dull eyes glistened, he stepped forward with Carrigan to see Marion enter. She came on steadily, her splendid figure brought out in every line of her costume. The audience waited, her note was sounded and for the shortest second she hesitated, then the voice rolled out.

"My God! she's nervous," exclaimed the Professor.

"Not a bit of it," Jimmy assured him, "she's just struck her gait, watch her."

Every note reached the furthermost of the assembly, people forgetting to breathe. Halm, not daring to look at her, kept head and hands going to modulate the chords of the orchestra. Harry's thoughts were befuddled, he cursed himself in whispers for taking the liquor. No connected understanding of the music came to him and before she finished he turned his back chattering, in a silly tone, Svengali's description of Trilby, "Mon Dieu! she has a mouth like the dome of the Pantheon." He sank into a chair as the building rocked with applause, and the "Bra-vas" of Galt and Higbee came dully to his ears. Raising his eyes when a hand was laid on his shoulder, he beheld Marion. Master of himself in a second, he said:

"Go out and repeat, they want you."

"On condition that you stand where I can see you," she whispered determinedly.

"Very well, go."

This time she faced partially off stage to where he stood and every note was for him; he listened to a story he had never heard before. Members of the chorus, observing the direction of her eyes, followed it, unsophisticated young hearts catching the wireless message, responded to the spell and when the encore was finished, forgot their place and joined in the handclapping.

The operetta over, the people lingered to offer congratulations to Halm and the performers, but the Professor was nowhere to be found. Gradually the crowd faded away, proud fathers and mothers hugging boys and girls as they moved down the street. The editor stepped back to tell Jimmy, who was closing up, that he wished to see the Professor at the office, were he not too tired. When all but one gaslight was turned off, Carrigan was startled by a vision in white, a cloak dropping from its shoulders.

"Has Har—the Professor returned?"

"'Deed, I ain't seen him, Miss Marion."

"I must see him, don't extinguish that light for a moment please, wait I—"

"Closed up, Jimmy?" came his voice from the stairs. "Ah! Miss Marion haven't gone home yet?"

"No, I desire to see you," descending to where he stood.

"By the way, Professor, Mr. Galt wants to see you at the office, if you ain't too tired," said Carrigan, about to close the outer door.

"Very good," excusing himself to the girl and stepping back from the porch; "give me another pull out of that bottle, Jimmy."

Marion walked slowly down the street as fully aware of his reason for returning as if he had told her, for such is woman's intuition. He joined her in a moment, his handkerchief to his mouth.

"Did I sing well?"

"Divinely," squeezing her arm; "but you must wait until tomorrow for me to tell you, I am knocked out tonight."

"Yes, you are very tired, don't go to the office," pleading.

"We shall remain but a few minutes."

"But you are so tired, and—I don't want you to go "

"It's only a matter of trains for tomorrow, for our trip to Washington; I shall be home and in bed in ten minutes."

"Cannot you attend to that in the morning?"

The egoist's method of answering an unwelcome appeal is to ignore the issue. There was no apparent reason to his mind why he should not accede to the girl's request, yet he refused to consider it further. Perhaps in his hypersensitive state it seemed dictation. In the shadow of the porch he took her extended hand, loosed it, grasped her cloak near the throat, thought of the whiskey and let go just as the bell sounded in response to her touch.

"Good night, Harry," she whispered.

"Good night, dear," raising his hat.

Part way up the street he hesitated, looked around thinking he heard footsteps behind him, then hurried along laughing at his nervous apprehension. He would sleep all morning to restore his balance. At the Bulletin a bright light burned behind drawn curtains. The Editor answered his knock, locked the door behind him, each took a cigar and sat down. When these were lighted to their satisfaction, Galt said:

"Well, my boy, you have scored another hit." "Didn't they pull it off well?"

"And won't Louis give it a write up? He's at the house now, hitting it off while the inspiration is hot within him. Miss Tyson is of operatic calibre, she's a star of the first magnitude, I have never heard anything richer."

"Do you think so?"

"Nothing else to it, she has a voice in a million; you ought to advise it."

This subject did not seem agreeable to the Professor and was dropped. The Editor considered that the triumph of the evening warranted some refreshment, not, as he said, anything heavy, just enough stimulation to bring the full amount of joy. The first bottle was exhausted in further discussion of the operetta, the second put the Barons in the proper attitude towards their dependents, subsequent ones brought the Western Maryland Railroad as humble petitioner to its metaphorical knees, the shirt factory's machines could be heard in the distance, and as the town clock struck three the empty beer case was pushed into hiding under the Editor's desk. Out on the street they shook hands, promising thickly to be ready to drive to Brookville to catch the afternoon train on the Pennsylvania Railroad.  for they would not condescend to travel over the Western Maryland Railroad.

Chapter 14

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