Sharon had little to lose. She did not expect to get a large role; she would be happy with a spot in the chorus. As she began to sing, her confidence returned. The song was an easy one for her, and she had rehearsed it thoroughly. She went through it, smiling out at the nearly empty theater as if to a full house, thinking about Robert Tyson out in the lobby, knowing that she had at least one person pulling for her. When she finished, she nodded and stepped down from the stage and then walked back up the aisle to the lobby.
“That was very, very good indeed, Miss Winslow!” Robert whispered warmly.
“Thank you,” Sharon replied. She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Are you going to stay to hear the results?”
“Oh yes. I don’t have anywhere to go.” He pulled his watch out of his vest pocket and said, “Eleven o’clock. Suppose we go get a bit of lunch, then come back here. I’d like to know the results today.”
She hesitated. Ordinarily she would not consider going out to lunch with a man she had just met, but the theatrical atmosphere seemed to have weakened her customary reserve. “All right,” she agreed.
They left the theater together, and when they were outside, Robert said, “Do you know any place that’s good?”
“Not really.”
“There’s a nice little Italian restaurant around the corner. Do you like Italian food?”
“Very much.”
“So do I. Let’s give it a try.”
The restaurant was not crowded, there being only three tables occupied. The proprietor greeted Robert by name. “Ah, Mr. Tyson, it’s good to see you. Welcome, miss.”
“Thank you, Leo.”
Leo smiled. “Come and sit down.”
Sharon felt awkward, but it was an adventure for her. She asked Robert to order for her, and he said, “Spaghetti is always safe. With meatballs, Leo, and some of that fresh, hot bread—and that good salad you make.”
While the meal was being prepared, the two talked about the different singers. Sharon found herself able to talk to Robert easily, and soon she said, “We may as well get on a first-name basis. If we both get a part, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
“I’d like that very much.”
The meal met all of Sharon’s expectations. The crisp salad and steaming bread spread with fresh butter were enough to make up an entire meal. “The spaghetti is wonderful,” she said, twirling another forkful of noodles and skewering a meatball.
“I always eat too much, but it’s so good,” he agreed. “Have you lived in New York City for long, Sharon?”
“Yes, all my life.”
“What about your family?”
“I have a father and mother. My mother’s name is Lucille and my father’s name is Leland. He’s in the lumber business. I was an only child until just recently. Now I have a brand-new baby brother.”
“You don’t say! I’m sure you’re pleased about that.”
Sharon spoke of the new baby and the changes he had made in their lives. “What about your family?”
“I have two brothers and three sisters. My family’s in the dry cleaning business. My father started with one establishment and now owns six. He and Mother had a hard time of it in the beginning, but things are going well for them now.”
An alarm went off in Sharon’s head when she heard about his family. She knew her parents wouldn’t approve of her having any kind of relationship with a man from such a family. Still, she was having a good time, and she put aside her concerns as the two sat there for well over an hour. As they started into their spumoni, she asked, “What do you want to do, Robert? Do you want to be a professional singer?”
“Oh yes. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted. My parents are sympathetic, thank goodness. I couldn’t make it without them. Lessons are expensive.”
Sharon never had to think about the cost of anything, and it was one more indication of the vast gulf between her family and the Tysons. “You have a wonderful voice,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll be very successful.”
“It’s a very competitive field. Most of the great singers come from Italy, of course.”
“You mustn’t let that worry you. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“Do you like Gilbert and Sullivan?”
“Oh yes, I’ve always loved them.”
“So do I, and I think H.M.S. Pinafore is my favorite.”
The conversation turned to favorite operas, and he asked, “Would you like to be in an opera someday?”
“Oh, Robert, I don’t have the voice for it.”
He started to protest, but she interrupted him.
“No, it’s good to know your own limits. I’m thankful for what God has given me, but I don’t have the voice to be an opera singer.”
He did not argue, and soon their talk turned to the war. “I hope it doesn’t come over here,” he said, a look of gloom touching his face. “If it does, I’ll have to join up, of course.”
“Oh, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Yes, let’s do. I certainly hope they’ll settle it over there. Well, maybe we should get back and see if they’re close to announcing the cast list.”
The two walked back to the theater, which was still filled with people. Several singers had not had their turn yet, so they realized it could be a long wait. “I’m staying here if it takes all night,” Robert said.
“I’ll stay too, if it’s not too long.”
As it turned out, the wait was pleasantly short. Thirty minutes after the final singer had auditioned, Mr. Hammond came back to the lobby and announced, “My colleagues and I have made our decisions. In a moment I’ll read the cast list. The first rehearsal for the entire cast will be Monday evening at seven o’clock. For those of you we didn’t choose, I thank you for coming and ask you not to be too disappointed. There will be other opportunities, of course.” He looked at his list and began: “The male lead will be sung by Mr. Robert Tyson. Mr. Tyson, are you still here?”
“Yes, I am, Mr. Hammond.” He stood and waved his hand.
“Very good.”
As Hammond continued to read through the list, he said, “The role of Buttercup will be sung by Miss Sharon Winslow.”
A thrill went through Sharon. This was a much larger role than she had hoped for. She would have one solo and at least two or three duets. She stood up and smiled and felt Robert take her arm and squeeze it encouragingly. “Congratulations. I’m looking forward to seeing you do a great job.”
After the rest of the list was read, they left the theater together. As they stepped out into the street, Robert said, “I always feel sorry for the people who didn’t get a part.”
“I know. I do too.” His understanding touched a chord in Sharon. It was generous of him to say this after winning. “I’ll have to go home now,” she said. “I enjoyed the day.”
“I’ll see you Monday, Sharon.”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it.” She signaled a cab at the curb. She was excited and thrilled about the production, and her thoughts often returned to Robert Tyson. He was so entertaining and had such talent. I hope he can make it in opera. He would hate to go back to the dry cleaning business, she thought.
When she got home, she found her mother feeding Clayton. “How was it?” Lucille asked.
“I was chosen for the part of Buttercup. It’s not the female lead, but I’ll have some specials.”
“That’s wonderful, dear! Did you see Jeffrey Astor?”
“Yes, he’ll be in the production too.”
The answer satisfied her mother, and Sharon did not see fit to mention that Jeffrey was a very poor singer indeed. But when your name is Astor, you get whatever part you audition for with the New York Civic Drama Society.
****
Sharon went to rehearsal on Monday and then again on Thursday evening. She did not have much personal contact with Robert while she learned her own role and the blocking for the chorus. On Saturday, after a morning rehearsal, she enco
untered Robert on the way out. “You’re doing so well,” she said with a smile.
“Well, thank you. I hope so. And are you enjoying it?”
“Very much.”
Robert squinted in the bright October sunshine and said, “What a fine day. Are you going straight home?”
“I was planning to.”
“Do you have to?”
“Why . . . no, not really.”
“Come with me, then. I’m going out to the Polo Grounds to see the Yankees play the Boston Red Sox.”
“I’ve never been to a baseball game. I don’t know the first thing about it.”
“All the more reason to come, then. They’re a lot of fun—noisy and sometimes a little rowdy. I played baseball in college. As a matter of fact, I thought about becoming a professional. I think I would have tried for that if I hadn’t wanted to be a singer. Come on,” he said with a smile. “If you’ve never seen a game, it’ll be an exciting new experience.”
For an instant Sharon hesitated, but then his smile won her over. “All right, but I may not be able to stay for the whole thing. How long do they last?”
“Oh, two or three hours. It’ll be good to have someone to talk to.”
****
Sharon and Robert were seated in the stands watching the game. Vendors were selling soft drinks, hot dogs, and peanuts, and Robert bought two hot dogs and two soft drinks. “You can’t watch baseball without eating a hot dog,” he said. “Here, I hope you like mustard. It looks like they used plenty.”
Sharon was enjoying the taste of the first hot dog she had ever tried when suddenly the crowd stood up, yelling. “What’s happening?” she asked, startled.
“New York just hit a home run!”
“What’s a home run?”
“That’s when a player hits the ball and gets around all three bases, back home, and scores.”
“It’s all so confusing.”
“I suppose it is. I’m surprised the Babe let that one get by him.”
“The who?”
“The Babe. Babe Ruth. The Red Sox pitcher—the big guy on the mound in the middle—he’s a phenomenal young player! Looks like the Sox’ll be the new league champions, but the Yanks have got one more shot to take them on this afternoon.”
“It seems odd for grown men to play a game instead of going to work.”
Robert laughed. “I suppose it does at that. But I guess having a few men who take the game seriously allows the rest of us to relax and get away from our work! That’s why they call it America’s favorite pastime.”
After a private discussion between the umpire and Ruth on the mound, the game continued with the young pitcher still in place. The crowd was a bit subdued now as the Babe wasn’t letting any other hitters on base after allowing the Yankees to get a home run. One player was tagged out at first, but he had a few choice words with the umpire over the call. Before Sharon knew what was happening, a brawl broke out with players pouring out of both dugouts onto the field, joining in the fray. “Oh my! What are they fighting about!” she exclaimed, standing up with everyone else. The crowd was screaming again now, and some were shouting, “Kill the umpire!”
Robert laughed at her concern. “It’s nothing. When they disagree over something they start throwing punches. It happens pretty often.”
Sharon flushed at his teasing grin and settled back down again. It was the first time she’d ever witnessed a fight of any kind, and she was embarrassed to find her heart pounding with excitement.
The fight apparently energized the teams, and before Sharon knew it, runs were being scored on both sides with New York eventually emerging the victor in a four-to-three win. The crowd went wild, even though the outcome couldn’t topple the Red Sox from their place in the World Series that was scheduled to begin the next day.
Sharon was amazed at how quickly the time flew by, and before she knew it they were filing out of the Polo Grounds with the jubilant Yankees fans. Being a diehard Yankees fan himself, Robert was elated at his team’s win over the powerful Boston team, and Sharon tried to follow his discussion of the game’s fine points as they made their way out to the street. “You’ll have to let me take you home now, Sharon. I wouldn’t want you to go alone.”
“All right, Robert. I’d like that.”
He hailed a cab, and the two got in. On the way home Sharon found herself feeling more liberated than she had in a long time. Baseball was indeed a rowdy, rude sort of sport, and she had heard some language she didn’t even understand. Still, she had found it all quite exciting, and being with Robert had made it all the more pleasant.
“You’ve got some mustard on your face,” he said, taking out his handkerchief. “Let me get it for you.”
Sharon laughed as he removed the spot from her face. “Thank you. You’d make a good maid.”
They talked until they got to the Winslow mansion, and when the cab drew up in front of it, Robert gawked at the elegant façade. “This is where you live?” he asked in awe.
“Yes, it’s my home.”
“Whew,” he whistled. “Some place! Your father must do well in the lumber business.”
“Yes, he’s been very successful. Thanks for bringing me home. Thanks for the hot dog and the game.”
“It was my pleasure. I’ll see you next week.”
Sharon went inside and found her parents in the drawing room. Her father was working on some papers at his desk, and her mother was rocking Clayton.
“Well, you’re getting in later today. Was the rehearsal this long?”
She did not wish to deceive her parents, so she said, “No, the young man who’s starring in the operetta invited me to a baseball game.”
“A baseball game! Whyever would you want to do that?” Lucille asked.
“It was rather fun, Mother. I’ve never seen one before.”
“Who is this man?” her father wanted to know.
“His name is Robert Tyson. He’s a very fine singer.”
“Where is he from?”
“His family lives in Buffalo.” Sharon hoped they would not ask what his family did, but of course her father asked.
“They’re in the dry cleaning business,” she answered. “I think they own a number of such businesses.”
Neither parent spoke, but Sharon could sense their displeasure. She went over and picked up Clayton and began to walk around the room with him, speaking quickly about the rehearsal and how excited she was to be a part of the production.
When she returned Clayton to his mother and left the room to change for dinner, Leland said, “Lucille, I don’t much like this.”
“I’m sure it’s a harmless friendship. After all, they’re just doing this operetta together. She’s not serious about him.”
“I certainly hope not. We didn’t raise our daughter to marry a man who owns a dry cleaner.”
“Don’t worry about it, dear. When the play’s over, I’m sure he’ll go back to Buffalo and they’ll never see each other again.”
CHAPTER THREE
Meeting the President
The months passed quickly as Sharon’s life centered around H.M.S. Pinafore. Her first thoughts each morning were about ways in which to improve her performance. All day she lived for the moment when the curtain would go up on opening night. One frosty morning she noted the date on her calendar: January fifth. “The day before opening night,” she whispered. “I so hope I’ll do well.”
Somehow she endured the long wait until evening, and when she arrived for the dress rehearsal, she found herself more nervous than she could ever remember. Some of the other cast members, she was gratified to notice, were also jittery. After warm-ups the dressing rooms buzzed with excitement as everybody got into costume and checked their makeup. She glanced in the mirror one last time and made a final adjustment to her ensemble before heading to the greenroom to await the opening curtain. Robert met her on the way and smiled. “Tomorrow’s the big night.”
“I’m scared to death, Robert.”<
br />
“No need to be,” he said. “You’ve been doing fine in rehearsals. Just think of tomorrow’s show as one more rehearsal.”
Robert’s encouragement calmed her nerves, and she began to relax as she talked and laughed with several members of the chorus. Suddenly an arm went around her waist, and she felt herself being hugged. Startled, she turned to look into the face of Jeffrey Astor. His eyes were red, and she could not miss the odor of whiskey when he spoke. “Hello, lovely,” he said. “How have I missed you all these weeks?”
Sharon was shocked that he had publicly put his arm around her. She knew it was the first time he had noticed her, except once to speak when passing. Now she drew away from him as best she could and spoke politely. “I’m a bit nervous, Mr. Astor.”
“You can call me Jeff,” he said. “I’ll tell you what. After rehearsal, let’s you and me go out and celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?” Sharon asked. As she looked at the pouches under his eyes and listened to his slurred speech, she thought of her mother’s admonition: “Be sure to make the acquaintance of Jeffrey Astor. He’s quite an eligible young man.”
Jeffrey squeezed her arm as he leaned forward and shoved his face close to hers. “You and me’ll do the town tonight, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry,” Sharon said, drawing back, “but I have other plans.”
Astor stared at her in amazement and snarled, “Oh, so you’re too good for me! Is that it?”
Sharon freed herself from his grasp and walked quickly away, moving to the other side of the room. When she glanced back in his direction, she saw him coming on to another young woman. A voice behind her said, “I’d stay away from him if I were you.”
Sharon turned to see a girl who sang in the chorus. “Why’s that, Alice?”
“He’s chased half the girls in the chorus,” Alice said with a shrug, shaking her blond curls. “He’s a lecher. I know he’s got lots of money, but he’s out to get all he can from a girl.”
There was no time for more talk as the stage manager called “Places!” and the orchestra began the overture. Sharon put Astor out of her mind and threw herself into the production, singing just as heartily when in the chorus as she did for her special numbers. As the play unfolded, her nervousness melted away and she enjoyed herself. She was, as always, impressed by Robert’s performance. He was quite a bit more talented than the singers in the chorus. More than once while they were on stage together, he would turn his back to the audience, wink at her broadly, and give her a conspiratorial smile.
The Silent Harp Page 3