Orphelia tightened her lips but kept quiet.
“Look there,” said Clementine, “see how Orphelia’s face got all scrunched up just then? Pearl had something to do with it for sure, like always. Excuse us, please! I got to talk to this girl!”
Orphelia let Clementine, a tall, thin, brown-skinned, pigeon-toed girl with moles on her face, take her arm. Silently they walked over to the hollyhocks, away from the other girls. In tonight’s talent show Clementine was going to give an interpretive dance to “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” while her younger brother Ambrose played the song on his cornet. Orphelia had always wondered why Clementine didn’t dance pigeon-toed like she walked.
“All right, what’d Pearl do this time?” asked Clementine. “You look like you’re gonna bust out bawling. Seems like Pearl’s always doing some kind of devilishness to take the strut out of your step.”
“Pearl had something to do with it,” Orphelia said, “but not like what you think.” She usually felt safe sharing her problems with Clementine. This time, though, telling Clementine that they had been in the Stone Shed would bring up more questions and might even lead to bigger-problems if the wrong grown-ups found out.
Orphelia breathed in deep and blew out her breath hard. “I’m so mad at Momma and Pearl I could spit fire! I was so mad last night that I called Pearl a liar to her face, and Momma about had a hissy fit. But at least she’s letting me come to watch the show tonight. Maybe Madame Meritta will sign my program and give me her address and let me write to her.”
“But what did Pearl do?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s done now.”
“All right, then don’t tell me.” For a moment Clementine sounded hurt. “Well, maybe Madame Meritta will have another talent show come through next year, and you can try then.”
Miz Rutherford came to the school door and began ringing her handbell, signaling the start of school. Orphelia freed her arm from Clementine’s.
“I’m not waiting until next year. I don’t know exactly when and I don’t know what, but I’m gonna do something about this—soon. You just watch me, Clementine.”
CHAPTER 3
MARVELOUS MADAME MERITTA
From a distance, Orphelia could see that Calico Creek’s church and school yard were already crowded with people. It was barely six o’clock in the evening, and most of the pews and chairs brought outside from the church were full. The talent show was not scheduled to start until six-thirty. The stage—a platform of boards assembled by Reverend Rutherford, pastor of Calico Creek Missionary Baptist Church and Miz Rutherford’s husband—was at one side of the building. On the stage sat a trio of musicians on banjo, drums, and piano. They began playing “Jesus Loves Me,” and Orphelia hummed along.
“Slow down and walk ladylike, Orphelia,” Momma called out behind her. “And straighten your bonnet before it slips off your head.”
Orphelia slowed down a little without answering. She didn’t care if the bonnet fell completely off and got trampled in the dust. Having to wear a hot bonnet was like having to wear a padlock around her head. And being forced out of the talent show was like having a padlock around her heart.
As she neared the yard she saw boys and girls wearing their best suits and dresses, carrying musical instruments and recital books. A boy she didn’t recognize wore a gray beard and a top hat. She guessed he was portraying Abraham Lincoln and would recite the Emancipation Proclamation or the Gettysburg Address. Somebody usually did in programs like these.
When they found seats in a pew near the back of the seating section, Orphelia made sure to settle herself on the end by Poppa, with Momma and Pearl on the other side of him. That way she wouldn’t have to hear much of Momma’s criticisms of the show, or listen to Pearl’s chatter. Orphelia had hardly said a word to either one of them since last night.
She patted sweat off her face with her bonnet strap and strained to see around the people sitting in front of her.
Behind the stage, school, and church, Orphelia spied three horse-drawn wooden coaches painted blazing red and yellow. Written on each coach in black curlicue lettering was “Madame Meritta and Her Marvelous Traveling Troubadours.” Horses? No motorcar or rail? All of the newspaper stories Orphelia had read said that the entertainer had private railroad cars for her troupe of twenty musicians and assistants to eat and sleep in.
Miz Rutherford stood by one of the coaches, talking to a tall, pretty, dark-skinned woman in a plain brown dress. That couldn’t be Madame Meritta, could it? Where were her boas and fancy gowns? Where was the rest of her show?
Momma was wondering the same thing. “Is that all there is?” she asked Poppa. “The way some folks talk, you’d think this woman’s foot never touched the ground. Where’s all these fine musicians she’s supposed to have?”
A man in the next pew turned around and frowned a little at Momma. He pointed to the stage. “She has a huge entourage and a string of boxcars—I’ve seen ’em—but they say she’s sent most of them on to St. Louis to get ready for the fair. I doubt if she’ll perform tonight. It’s a talent show for the kids, remember?”
Momma said, “Oh,” and sniffed.
Orphelia looked around for Clementine. She was standing by the stage with the other competitors, including the boy in the Lincoln clothes. He had removed his top hat and was fanning himself with it. A boy who had supposedly rode his pet mule all the way from Canton with a big cello was drinking water. She didn’t see Cap. When she had told him this morning that they’d been withdrawn, he’d just shrugged and said that Pearl needed to control her mouth better.
A barefoot boy in a straw hat and denim overalls held a paintbrush and bucket. Orphelia figured he was portraying a character from one of the books by that Hannibal writer, Mark Twain.
Momma had forbidden Orphelia and Pearl to read any of the man’s books because she said the language in his books was not morally uplifting. But one night when Orphelia had slept over at Clementine’s, they had read several chapters of one of his books that had been serialized in the Hannibal newspaper. The story did have disgusting words in it. Other parts were funny Orphelia and Clementine wondered if that man Jim in the book ever got free.
Orphelia recognized two girls in matching green dresses and pompadour hairstyles, plucking violins. They had participated in Hannibal’s Emancipation Celebration festivities, billing themselves as “The Hannibal Twins, Prodigies on Violins.”
The audience included white people, too. Orphelia didn’t recognize a lot of people. They must have been from outside the county.
Miz Rutherford stepped upon the platform and rang her school bell for silence. “Ladies and gentlemen and little gentlemen and little ladies. What a momentous occasion it is for us to be so very privileged to have among us the marvelous Madame Meritta of St. Louis, Missouri. Madame Meritta, as you know, is the owner of Madame Meritta’s Marvelous Traveling Troubadours. She is here with us tonight seeking Missouri’s most talented young artists. Of course, she’ll find them right here in Lewis County, won’t she?”
Everybody applauded. Some of the boys stamped their feet and whistled. Miz Rutherford went on. “Madame Meritta has traveled and performed around the world and before all of the royal families of Europe. She is among Missouri’s most popular Negro musicians and is one of the state’s and country’s few minstrel show owners of feminine persuasion. We thank her deeply for giving of her precious time to visit our humble county and to give our children an opportunity to exhibit their talents here tonight.”
Miz Rutherford went on talking like that until Orphelia wanted to shout, “Please, please, please get on with the show!”
Finally she left the stage. Orphelia leaned forward in anticipation. Then Reverend Rutherford came on and asked them to close their eyes and bow their heads. He offered up a prayer thanking God for bringing Madame Meritta to their school and church, and he asked God to continue to watch over everybody and to give special guidance to the young competitors who represented the cream of
Lewis County.
Or most of it, Orphelia whispered to herself. The pain of being left out twisted at her heart.
As soon as he said amen, people around her gasped and began to applaud. Orphelia opened her eyes. Standing on the platform was the famous Madame Meritta at last. She wore a sleeveless turquoise silk gown, covered with a sparkly goldlike dust. A filmy white shawl lay lightly around her shoulders and hung down to the floor. On her head was a turquoise turban, one tail of which trailed down her right cheek. The turban was highlighted by a gold feather that also sparkled in the early evening sun. A diamond necklace twinkled at her throat. She lifted one arm—covered by a golden glove up to her elbow—and waved and smiled. When she smiled, Orphelia saw that her two front teeth were gold, too.
Poppa nudged Orphelia. “Close your mouth, girl! You’ll let in flies,” he said, smiling.
“Oh, Poppa, she’s beautiful,” Orphelia whispered. She stood up and waved back until Momma tapped her on the arm.
Without speaking, Madame Meritta floated across the platform to a white-draped table and sat down at it. As she did, a man in a white formal suit and derby strode out onto the stage.
“That’s Mr. Interlocutor from her show,” the man in front of Orphelia whispered to everybody. “Every minstrel show has someone they call Mr. Interlocutor. He plays the main man in charge of everything, and other performers tease and poke fun at him during the show. It’s part of their act.”
The man on stage, however, announced that he was the Grand Master Roberts, master of ceremonies. Orphelia wondered what the difference was between Grand Master and Mr. Interlocutor.
Grand Master Roberts sang the praises of Madame Meritta and the Rutherfords and then announced the prizes to be given out. Third prize was a large framed portrait of Madame Meritta with her signature, which he held up.
“I wouldn’t mind having one of those,” Orphelia told Poppa.
Second place was a trophy to be engraved with the winner’s name. First place, of course, meant that you advanced to the finals and would appear with the other winners during the entertainer’s performance at the St. Louis World’s Fair next Saturday. The show was only a little over a week away!
Orphelia joined the rest of the audience in clapping, but her heart was not in it. Darn that Pearl and her big mouth!
The acts were called and the children performed. After reciting the Emancipation Proclamation, the boy playing Abe Lincoln dropped his top hat when he bowed. The Hannibal Twins, however, were perfect in their rendition of “Flight of the Bumblebee,” one of Orphelia’s favorite pieces, too. But she didn’t need the music to play it, like they did. “They’ll be hard to beat tonight,” she said to Poppa.
“You could have beat them,” Poppa whispered back.
“Really?” Orphelia smiled wider than she had since Momma’s devastating words the night before. Then she frowned. “But why didn’t you say something to Momma?”
“I did.”
She looked up at him, but Poppa kept his eyes on the stage. She sighed. She wiggled her fingers, which itched to play, then pressed them down in her lap.
At intermission, Orphelia slipped away from Momma and Pearl and stepped inside the church. The outside sounds of the trio music and of people talking and laughing were muffled in the cool solitude of the sanctuary. Orphelia went over to her old friend the church piano and sat down. She pulled off her bonnet and dropped it on the floor.
She began softly with “Amazing Grace,” one of her favorite religious songs, and followed it with “Listen to the Mockingbird.” When she was not struck down by God for singing a secular song in church—again—she moved into “Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes,” her mind and fingers finding comfort in the touch of the keys and the sound of her own voice.
Orphelia knew she could have won the talent show and gone on to perform at the St. Louis World’s Fair, but now nobody would ever know.
“You sing and play superbly,” said a strange voice behind her.
Orphelia jumped off the piano stool, her heart pounding. Her mouth went as dry as a dirt road. She pressed her hands to her chest. Madame Meritta!
“I was showing Madame Meritta around and she heard the piano,” Miz Rutherford said, beaming. “I knew it could have been only you. Madame Meritta, this is my little star, Orphelia Bruce. Orphelia has been an admirer of yours for quite some time.”
Madame Meritta held out her golden-gloved hand. Orphelia stared at it until Miz Rutherford cleared her throat. Taking a deep breath, Orphelia took the entertainer’s hand in both of hers and shook it vigorously.
“I am Orphelia Bruce,” she said slowly, “and I have the ut-ut-utmost pleasure of … of making your acquaintance. And I thank you for honoring us with … with your presence. I love your music and you’re so beautiful and I want to be just like you,” she finished in a rush. “And I hope you won’t get mad because I was playing secular music in church, Miz Rutherford.”
“As if it was the first time?” Miz Rutherford was still smiling. “Madame Meritta, Orphelia wants to sing and perform professionally. But we’d like for her to stay right here with us forever.”
“Orphelia, your voice is beautiful. Why aren’t you in the talent show?”
When Orphelia hesitated, Miz Rutherford spoke up. “Family reasons.”
“Miz Madame, I love brass band music, and musical theater and minstrel shows, and of course religious music, and I’m so glad you don’t sing songs that make fun of colored folks and you don’t blacken up your face with burnt cork like those other minstrel groups do.” She made herself stop and take a breath.
“Thank you. I’ve always thought it was degrading to smear that stuff on our faces when we were already Negro. You are exactly the kind of musician that I would love to have in my show. Such passion!” Gently pulling her hand from Orphelia’s, she turned to Miz Rutherford. “She’s so much more talented than any child in my talent shows so far.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Orphelia jumped and clapped her hands, then pressed them over her heart. Oh, Lord, you heard my prayers! “Would you tell this to my mother and father?”
“Let’s wait until after the show,” Miz Rutherford said. “Intermission’s nearly over, and Madame Meritta needs to get back to judging. Isn’t this wonderful, Orphelia? You wanted to meet her, and you have! The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
Orphelia proudly led Miz Rutherford and Madame Meritta from the church into the throngs of people, noting that everybody—especially Momma and Pearl, Clementine, and the Hannibal Twins—was staring at them. “And be sure and tell your mother that I brought Madame Meritta to you,” Miz Rutherford whispered. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Orphelia nodded.
She made her way back to their pew. “Miz Rutherford introduced me to Madame Meritta, and she wants to meet you and Poppa,” she told Momma.
“Now isn’t that nice,” said Poppa. Momma just said, “Hmmmm.”
Orphelia hardly noticed the rest of the show. After it ended, Madame Meritta deliberated, and Grand Master Roberts announced the winners. Clementine and Ambrose won third place, and the cellist won second. They all came up onstage when their names were called and received their prizes from Madame Meritta.
First place, as Orphelia had expected, went to the Hannibal Twins. Madame Meritta gave them an envelope and whispered something in their ears. Then she asked the parents of all of the participants to stand, and they did.
Madame Meritta walked to the front of the stage. “In the course of my visit here, I happened to hear a truly gifted young lady sing, and I was so impressed with her magnificent voice and piano playing that I must find some way to acknowledge her. You all have heard her perform before in the area. Her name is …” and she hesitated, turning to Miz Rutherford.
Momma reached across Pearl and Poppa and tapped Orphelia on the arm. “What’s going on here?” she whispered sharply.
“I don’t know,” Orphelia said, her fingers intertwined in her lap.
“H
er name is Orphelia Bruce,” Madame Meritta continued. “Would you please stand, Miss Bruce, so that the audience can see you? Let’s show her our appreciation for her talents with a round of applause.”
Not daring to look at Momma’s face, Orphelia stood up and then shot back down. She bit nervously on her thumb. A chance to go to the fair still?
“Orphelia, I said what is this all about?” Momma demanded, but Poppa motioned to her to be quiet. Orphelia looked up at Poppa in surprised gratitude. She stole a glance at Momma. Momma was eyeing her with a strange, almost frightened expression on her face. What would happen now?
Almost as soon as the show ended, Miz Rutherford steered Madame Meritta through the crowd to Orphelia’s pew and introduced the entertainer to Momma and Poppa and then Pearl, who was big-eyed and speechless for once.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bruce, your daughter is blessed to have such an amazing talent,” Madame Meritta said. “I would love to include her in my show at the fair. Is there any way we can work something out?”
“Thank you for your offer, but Orphelia cannot participate,” Momma said stiffly. “Minstrel music such as what I have heard is not morally uplifting, nor do I approve of proper young Negro women parading themselves before the public singing any songs other than religious.”
“Then perhaps you would consider Orphelia singing religious songs during the program, since she is your church’s pianist-in-training,” Madame Meritta said smoothly. “She could represent your church if you wished, and if Reverend Rutherford is in agreement.”
Orphelia looked from Madame Meritta to Momma. Momma’s face had gone blank. Orphelia grabbed Poppa’s hand and pulled on it. “Can I do it that way?” she pleaded.
“A wonderful idea, Miz Bruce,” Miz Rutherford said.
Poppa cleared his throat. He glanced at Momma. “This is something that we’ll have to discuss,” he said.
The Minstrel's Melody Page 3