"Come on, ya gotta do dis. Just go. Ya gotta. Just go ahead in theah.
Look, she's-"
"'Ey! Will ya keep it down?! I ain't tryin' ta advertise!!" The voice was agitated. As I removed my overcoat, the warm, musty air enveloped me and I quickly grew accustomed to the noise and crowded atmosphere.
'So this,' I thought, gazing up and down the rows and rows from the top of the banister to the bottom of the last visible crimson velvet seat before the orchestra pit, 'This is the famous Irving Hall.'
When earlier that afternoon, three or four hours after Race's abrupt exit from our lunch party, Jack had announced that night's plans, immediately there were titterings from all the boys and an all-around energetic buzz of excitement satiated the Lodging House.
I hesitated. "And what's this...Irving Hall, then?" I asked only when Cowboy turned his face to me as the primary cheer of joy died down.
Boyhood teased its way into his face as the corners of his mouth reached for his reddening ears. "It's a little establishment we like ta grace wit our presence every now an' den," was his gleeful response; another roar of laughter erupted in the ten or so youths huddled in the center of the lobby we were standing in.
Once inside the "little establishment," I was able to recognize why the idea of going to Irving Hall excited them all so much. It was a pretty high-class place compared to the living conditions these boys were used to. Sure, I had been to bigger, fancier arenas before, but I wasn't about to discredit this place. I liked the atmosphere; it was so homey - Jack seemed to know everybody, and had been chatting up one of the stage managers a few minutes ago - and yet there was still the ever-present thrill of live theatre surrounding everyone.
"Punky, hey Punky!" I jumped and suddenly became aware of the blonde spectacled lad sitting two seats away from me. "Oh, sorry," he said, and grinned sheepishly. I smiled.
"It's alright. I met you at the Lodging House, didn't I?"
"Yeah, I'm Dutchy." He extended his hand and I shook it. "An' this is - "
"'Scuse me! Pardon - hey, thanks - yeah, comin' through!"
The busty redhead was coming toward us fast, and I was inclined to stand up so as to give her more room with which to make her way down the row. Upon taking her seat between Dutchy and me, her face lit up with a vibrancy that I found refreshing. I can't say how many gloomy faces I saw while walking through the city streets that evening.
"Hi, honey." She leaned over, kissed Dutchy on the cheek, and held his hand briefly. I laughed when he blushed, and this mystery girl turned her attention towards me. "Never seen you here before, 'cept for outside just now," she began, eyeing me strangely. "You with Jack?"
"Oh - no, not - well, yes, kind of. He brought me here, if that's what you mean."
"Oh...I see." She grinned and held out her hand. "Everyone calls me Punky." Her face was warm and friendly, and I gladly shook her hand.
"Hello, Punky - I'm Katie." I smiled back and looked over her shoulder at "Honey." "And you two are...?" I whispered, pointing to each of them in turn.
"Haha! Yeah, we are," she responded gleefully. The boy was blushing again, but I knew he was enjoying our conversation. He reached for her hand, and the look he gave her could have satisfied my soul for a week; he adored her. No one watching him gaze lovingly into her bluegray eyes could have denied that. And it was the way they connected when she looked back at him that made you realize; they had something.
Suddenly the lights went low and the crowd began to settle; in the confusion, I barely noticed the body hurriedly plopping itself down in the seat directly to my right. My coat was lying on the arm of the chair; I turned away from Punky in order to remove it from the other person's arm rest. "Oh, I'm sorry - " I stopped, turning to face my next-seat neighbor. It was Racetrack.
He was fidgeting, brushing off his pant legs, and trying to get comfortable...apparently it wasn't an easy task. He jerked his head towards me, the frown that seemed to perpetually invade his round face beginning to fade into a mixture of surprise and angst. "Hi," he muttered, raspily of course, and before I could contemplate answering he had shifted again to face the stage and the frown had again planted itself on his face.
I didn't quite know what to think - so I let Punky think for me. She had taken her eyes off Dutchy, and I received a small nudge from her side. She nodded towards Race on my right. I shifted uneasily and pretended not to notice.
"Ladies and gentlemen...Miss Medda Larkson!" I was mildly startled when the crowd around me erupted in cheers and applause; Punky was apparently an admirer. "Wooo, Medda! Medda!" She nearly leapt out of her seat.
Racetrack looked like he was surviving an internal struggle - he was clapping loudly, but his face was like the battleground for a warring frown and smile - which would win?
Punky was leaning over to me again, looking mischievous. "Usually Race is all excited before our shows...now he just looks damned nervous." She leaned back again, and said a bit too loudly, "I wonder if he's distracted by something."
I stared at her, wide-eyed. "I can't imagine what you mean," I whispered fiercely. Thank God she didn't answer.
Medda was a husky-voiced, middle-aged woman, but she could certainly put on a stunning show. I had never really seen vaudeville before, so besides the inappropriate comments from my new friend, I enjoyed the performance immensely. I found myself not wanting to leave the theatre. Maybe that was because I would have to turn Race's way again when I walked out.
Punky had apparently appointed herself Matchmaker. "I say," she started, turning to me as we were all standing up getting ready to depart, "I say ya dump the Cowboy and go for this one." She gestured towards Race, who had not yet left my side. I was appalled, and prayed he hadn't heard her.
"Punky!! What are you saying?! Jack is not - I'm not - we're not - "
She looked confused. "You're not? Oh, well gee, I'm sorry, I thought you were! Woops..." She winced, looking at Race.
"Whatever gave you that idea??" 'People here certainly are bold, aren't they?' I thought huffily. 'Why do they have to TALK about things so openly?'
"Well, you said he brought you here, so I thought - "
I slapped my forehead in exasperation. "Will everyone think that I'm romantically involved with a boy if he brings me somewhere?" I asked.
"Well...prolly not, it's just the way you said it, it sounded kinda...I dunno, never mind. Sorry, forget I said anything." She smiled and picked up her own coat. "But anyway, I'd still go for Race if I was you - he's not bad, is he?"
And yet another bold comment! Would the embarrassment never end! After shushing Punky to the best of my ability, I found myself blushing profusely. I couldn't even turn to the right to see if he was still there. "Will you stop saying that, please? Someone might hear you!"
She giggled.
"Well, it's not funny...Racetrack doesn't like me, for your information. He doesn't like me at all. He can't stand the sight of me and hates to be near me. He only takes me places when he's assigned to, and grumbles about me the whole time. He drags me around like I'm a loose link on the end of a chain of sausages, and he hates my singing." By the end of the rant I felt light-headed and was surprised at myself...What was happening to me? Why did I care so much?? This was not a good situation.
Punky just smiled and helped me with my coat. "Then why couldn't he take his eyes off you the whole time?"
"'Ey! Will ya keep it down?! I ain't tryin' ta advertise!!" The voice was agitated. As I removed my overcoat, the warm, musty air enveloped me and I quickly grew accustomed to the noise and crowded atmosphere.
'So this,' I thought, gazing up and down the rows and rows from the top of the banister to the bottom of the last visible crimson velvet seat before the orchestra pit, 'This is the famous Irving Hall.'
When earlier that afternoon, three or four hours after Race's abrupt exit from our lunch party, Jack had announced that night's plans, immediately there were titterings from all the boys and an all-around energetic buzz of excitement satiated the Lodging House.
I hesitated. "And what's this...Irving Hall, then?" I asked only when Cowboy turned his face to me as the primary cheer of joy died down.
Boyhood teased its way into his face as the corners of his mouth reached for his reddening ears. "It's a little establishment we like ta grace wit our presence every now an' den," was his gleeful response; another roar of laughter erupted in the ten or so youths huddled in the center of the lobby we were standing in.
Once inside the "little establishment," I was able to recognize why the idea of going to Irving Hall excited them all so much. It was a pretty high-class place compared to the living conditions these boys were used to. Sure, I had been to bigger, fancier arenas before, but I wasn't about to discredit this place. I liked the atmosphere; it was so homey - Jack seemed to know everybody, and had been chatting up one of the stage managers a few minutes ago - and yet there was still the ever-present thrill of live theatre surrounding everyone.
"Punky, hey Punky!" I jumped and suddenly became aware of the blonde spectacled lad sitting two seats away from me. "Oh, sorry," he said, and grinned sheepishly. I smiled.
"It's alright. I met you at the Lodging House, didn't I?"
"Yeah, I'm Dutchy." He extended his hand and I shook it. "An' this is - "
"'Scuse me! Pardon - hey, thanks - yeah, comin' through!"
The busty redhead was coming toward us fast, and I was inclined to stand up so as to give her more room with which to make her way down the row. Upon taking her seat between Dutchy and me, her face lit up with a vibrancy that I found refreshing. I can't say how many gloomy faces I saw while walking through the city streets that evening.
"Hi, honey." She leaned over, kissed Dutchy on the cheek, and held his hand briefly. I laughed when he blushed, and this mystery girl turned her attention towards me. "Never seen you here before, 'cept for outside just now," she began, eyeing me strangely. "You with Jack?"
"Oh - no, not - well, yes, kind of. He brought me here, if that's what you mean."
"Oh...I see." She grinned and held out her hand. "Everyone calls me Punky." Her face was warm and friendly, and I gladly shook her hand.
"Hello, Punky - I'm Katie." I smiled back and looked over her shoulder at "Honey." "And you two are...?" I whispered, pointing to each of them in turn.
"Haha! Yeah, we are," she responded gleefully. The boy was blushing again, but I knew he was enjoying our conversation. He reached for her hand, and the look he gave her could have satisfied my soul for a week; he adored her. No one watching him gaze lovingly into her bluegray eyes could have denied that. And it was the way they connected when she looked back at him that made you realize; they had something.
Suddenly the lights went low and the crowd began to settle; in the confusion, I barely noticed the body hurriedly plopping itself down in the seat directly to my right. My coat was lying on the arm of the chair; I turned away from Punky in order to remove it from the other person's arm rest. "Oh, I'm sorry - " I stopped, turning to face my next-seat neighbor. It was Racetrack.
He was fidgeting, brushing off his pant legs, and trying to get comfortable...apparently it wasn't an easy task. He jerked his head towards me, the frown that seemed to perpetually invade his round face beginning to fade into a mixture of surprise and angst. "Hi," he muttered, raspily of course, and before I could contemplate answering he had shifted again to face the stage and the frown had again planted itself on his face.
I didn't quite know what to think - so I let Punky think for me. She had taken her eyes off Dutchy, and I received a small nudge from her side. She nodded towards Race on my right. I shifted uneasily and pretended not to notice.
"Ladies and gentlemen...Miss Medda Larkson!" I was mildly startled when the crowd around me erupted in cheers and applause; Punky was apparently an admirer. "Wooo, Medda! Medda!" She nearly leapt out of her seat.
Racetrack looked like he was surviving an internal struggle - he was clapping loudly, but his face was like the battleground for a warring frown and smile - which would win?
Punky was leaning over to me again, looking mischievous. "Usually Race is all excited before our shows...now he just looks damned nervous." She leaned back again, and said a bit too loudly, "I wonder if he's distracted by something."
I stared at her, wide-eyed. "I can't imagine what you mean," I whispered fiercely. Thank God she didn't answer.
Medda was a husky-voiced, middle-aged woman, but she could certainly put on a stunning show. I had never really seen vaudeville before, so besides the inappropriate comments from my new friend, I enjoyed the performance immensely. I found myself not wanting to leave the theatre. Maybe that was because I would have to turn Race's way again when I walked out.
Punky had apparently appointed herself Matchmaker. "I say," she started, turning to me as we were all standing up getting ready to depart, "I say ya dump the Cowboy and go for this one." She gestured towards Race, who had not yet left my side. I was appalled, and prayed he hadn't heard her.
"Punky!! What are you saying?! Jack is not - I'm not - we're not - "
She looked confused. "You're not? Oh, well gee, I'm sorry, I thought you were! Woops..." She winced, looking at Race.
"Whatever gave you that idea??" 'People here certainly are bold, aren't they?' I thought huffily. 'Why do they have to TALK about things so openly?'
"Well, you said he brought you here, so I thought - "
I slapped my forehead in exasperation. "Will everyone think that I'm romantically involved with a boy if he brings me somewhere?" I asked.
"Well...prolly not, it's just the way you said it, it sounded kinda...I dunno, never mind. Sorry, forget I said anything." She smiled and picked up her own coat. "But anyway, I'd still go for Race if I was you - he's not bad, is he?"
And yet another bold comment! Would the embarrassment never end! After shushing Punky to the best of my ability, I found myself blushing profusely. I couldn't even turn to the right to see if he was still there. "Will you stop saying that, please? Someone might hear you!"
She giggled.
"Well, it's not funny...Racetrack doesn't like me, for your information. He doesn't like me at all. He can't stand the sight of me and hates to be near me. He only takes me places when he's assigned to, and grumbles about me the whole time. He drags me around like I'm a loose link on the end of a chain of sausages, and he hates my singing." By the end of the rant I felt light-headed and was surprised at myself...What was happening to me? Why did I care so much?? This was not a good situation.
Punky just smiled and helped me with my coat. "Then why couldn't he take his eyes off you the whole time?"