As Madame Meritta explained that Negro businesses and clubs planned to put up displays at the fair demonstrating the accomplishments of the Negro, she was walking back and forth and waving her arms around. Orphelia hadn’t seen her this excited before.
“This way the city and the big white business owners and other fair-goers will see that Negroes are respectable, smart, and able to do most anything when given the chance. Then maybe we can get the kinds of jobs that will help us elevate ourselves and gain more economic and political leadership in city government.”
She added that the city had spent a lot of money fixing up some of the neighborhoods. On her street they planted new trees and got gas streetlights. The city also tore down a lot of old, ramshackle tenement houses and cleared empty lots of overgrown weeds and garbage.
“I guess Momma would be surprised to hear all that,” Orphelia said. Sounded like Momma was wrong again.
The closer Madame Meritta’s entourage got to St. Louis, the more crowded the roads became. Now Orphelia was seeing throngs of people in horse-drawn wagons, with suitcases and children piled in the back. Orphelia glued her face to the window, taking in every detail so she could remember to tell Pearl about it all.
A short time later, they had reached the city itself. Motorcars, puttering and smoking, threaded through the streets around horses and bicycles. Children who looked like Orphelia played in the streets or sat on porches attached to houses three and four stories high. Mothers with babies in one arm and laundry baskets in the other chatted with one another. Men shined shoes on street corners or in small cubbyholes by stores, pushed cartloads of fruits and vegetables, or washed windows.
And just off in the distance were the grounds of the Louisiana Purchase Exhibition—the St. Louis World’s Fair. Orphelia could see the magnificent giant Ferris wheel looming off to the left. She sighed. She was so close to the fair, and yet so far away.
And she still hadn’t thought of any way to prove her theory about Reuben. Time was running out. If Orphelia didn’t think of something fast, the chance of reuniting Momma and Poppa with Uncle Winston might be gone forever.
Unless … Maybe Orphelia didn’t need any proof. Maybe all she needed was to get Momma to meet Reuben somehow. Surely Momma would recognize her own brother, even after all these years, no matter how much he’d changed. She would be able to see past the scarred face and the one eye that was swollen shut. Orphelia wouldn’t need any more proof than that when she told Momma and Poppa her theory.
But what if Momma didn’t recognize him? Orphelia would be in even bigger trouble than ever, stirring up memories of Uncle Winston like that and meddling in the affairs of adults. Maybe I should just mind my own business. Momma and Poppa probably won’t even show up anyway.
Othello spoke through the driver’s hole. “Train station’s just a few blocks further. Laphet and the others are heading off now. Artimus is going to the telegraph office. He’ll meet us back at the station.”
Did that mean Reuben was gone, too? A knot twisted in Orphelia’s stomach, and her heart flip-flopped. “Miz Madame, I don’t feel well,” she said.
“Then lie down. I’ll pour you some water so you can freshen up here.” She touched Orphelia’s forehead, then gently lay her palm on her cheek. “You’re not overly warm. I know you’ve been dreading the end of your great adventure. And you know what? I’ve been dreading it, too. I surely have, but the time has come for you to go back home. You’ve gotten much farther than either one of us expected, you know.”
Orphelia pressed her face against Madame Meritta’s skirt. Her throat grew so full that she could barely talk. Tears rolled out the corners of her eyes and stained the skirt. “I don’t want to say good-bye to you, Madame Meritta! Or Mr. Othello either!”
“Oh, Orphelia, Orphelia.” Madame softly rubbed her back and shoulder. “You’ve become very special to me, too, much as I hate to admit it. This is the first time since my son—” Her eyes filled with tears. She paused, and then cleared her throat and continued. “Well, it’s been just wonderful to have you with us these past few days. But you’re not our child, Orphelia. You belong with your own family There’s a hole in your home with you gone,” Madame Meritta said. “I know what it’s like not to have my child around, believe me. Your parents and your sister are in a lot of pain.”
“Well, if that’s true, then why didn’t they try to find me?”
“How do you know they didn’t?”
“They probably won’t even come to St. Louis. Momma hates it, and she probably hates me so much that she never wants to see me again.”
Madame lifted Orphelia up by the shoulders. “I promise you that is not true. Now stand up. Wash your face and get ready to go.”
CHAPTER 9
ORPHELIA’S LAST CHANCE
Orphelia stumbled over to the water basin and washed her tear-salty face. She glanced again out the window at the masses of people, animals, and trolleys traveling through the big city’s streets. Was this really the end? Despite her earlier homesickness, she still wanted to see St. Louis. And she wanted to find out if Reuben was her Uncle Winston. And most important, she still wanted to sing at the Fair.
Maybe she could run away again. I’ll fly into a crowd of folks and disappear so fast nobody’ll catch me. Doesn’t matter that I don’t have a penny to my name or a mud hole to sleep in, as Cap would say. I ran away once before, and I can do it again!
But the thought of being alone in a city as huge as this one made little quiverings in her stomach. “I bet a person could get lost easy in St. Louis,” Orphelia said.
“Yes, if nobody was holding her hand tightly,” Madame Meritta answered quietly. “And if she did get lost, it would be an awful thing. There’s probably lots of murderers and thieves and other kinds of ruffians in town right now that a lost young girl would not want to run into.”
A chill went down Orphelia’s back. She swallowed and dried her face. Then she set her chin on the palm of her hand and stared out of the window. Soon she noticed a tall, pointy clock tower sticking up over the rooftops. It looked like it was part of a magnificent castle. A short time later, she saw the castle itself.
“That’s the train station,” Madame Meritta said, pointing to the gigantic structure.
Orphelia gasped. This was the train station? It was nothing like any train station she’d ever seen. Most of the ones she’d been in weren’t more than a one- or two-room building next to a platform.
Othello pulled the coach up to the curb, and Madame Meritta stepped out. Orphelia stayed where she was until Madame reached in and waggled her finger at her. “Orphelia Bruce, don’t make me have to come back in that coach and pull you out by the ear.”
“Oh all right, I’m coming.” Orphelia sighed. For once she dreaded having to leave the coach, but she told herself that at least she would get to see the inside of the train station. She slipped the strap of her schoolbag around her neck and stepped down. The odor of burnt coal and wood, thick in the air, made her cough.
With Madame Meritta tightly holding her right hand and Othello firmly holding her left, they headed into the station. Orphelia gaped in wonder as they entered the huge stone building. A sea of people, most of them probably fair-goers, rushed by in every direction.
Othello disappeared into the crowd to see about train schedules and to meet up with Artimus. Madame Meritta and Orphelia found a bench near the ticket counter and sat down to wait. Orphelia was surprised to learn that there was no separate waiting room for colored people. In any other train station she’d ever been in, Negroes had to sit in broken-down benches in a side room or off in a corner, and there was maybe a pail of dingy water with a leaky tin cup for them to drink from. Madame explained that Union Station was one of the few public places in St. Louis that wasn’t segregated.
When Othello finally reappeared, he was frowning.
“Oh, no. What is it now?” asked Madame Meritta.
“They’re not coming, are they?” said Orphelia.
“See?”
“Nonsense, child,” replied Othello. “They are coming. The message says that they will be arriving on the 7:30 P.M. train.”
Orphelia’s heart fluttered. The shock of knowing she would be seeing her parents soon both exhilarated and horrified her.
“But there was another telegram waiting for us, too, Maryanne,” continued Othello. “Our performance date has been moved up. We’ve got to perform tonight, at eight o’clock. Now don’t get upset, my dear. We can’t complain too much. I had to negotiate for hours to get us booked in the first place because competition was so stiff. After all, the Show-Me Café’s a popular place.”
“Well, I declare, could anything else possibly go wrong?” Madame Meritta asked, sighing heavily. “I just hope enough of my musicians are in town.” She pulled out her watch chain and checked the time. “It’s almost four. We can drive around and round up as many folks as possible.”
Cautiously Orphelia crossed her fingers. Maybe she would have a chance to perform at the fair after all. “What about the talent show performance? The Hannibal Twins can’t get here from Hannibal by then. So can I be—”
“No, you can’t substitute for the Twins,” Madame Meritta snapped back.
“But how are you going to find all your musicians in time? And who’ll replace Orville, the Musical Orphan Boy?”
Orphelia saw fire blaze briefly in the older woman’s eyes. “I’ll just go with whatever I’ve got. Now stop asking questions.”
“Maryanne,” Othello said, “Artimus also informed me that Pittsburgh and Becker have left to join some other dance group. Can you imagine such infidelity? So we now have two more holes to fill.”
“What? How could they double-cross us like that?” Madame Meritta got so frowned up that a crumple of hair fell down in her face from under her hat. “It’s the money—well, I mean, no money.”
Orphelia couldn’t believe her luck. “Madame Meritta, now you really need me. You gotta have a featured act,” she said. “Please, please, please let me perform tonight with you all. I was Orville the Musical Orphan Boy only once, and I didn’t get to take all my bows and leave the stage like a real performer. Just give me that one chance. We can leave a message for my parents telling them to meet us at the—”
“I said be quiet!” Madame Meritta snarled.
Orphelia closed her mouth and looked away.
Othello touched Madame Meritta on the arm. “Time is escaping, Madame. Even if we don’t allow the child to be in the show, what are we to do with her right now? We can’t leave her here alone, and we must hurry if we’re to round everyone up and be ready to perform by eight.”
Orphelia held her breath.
Finally, Madame Meritta threw her hands in the air. “Okay, I give up. Orphelia, I don’t want to get any more involved in something that your parents are already in a trauma over, but it’s true that they wouldn’t want us to leave you by yourself in a place like this. You’ll have to stay with us. But you are not going to perform tonight, do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Orphelia said, trying to hide her excitement. There was still a chance. She was sure of it.
CHAPTER 10
THE GRAND FINALE
Shortly after seven o’clock Madame Meritta and her entourage, including an overjoyed Orphelia, arrived at the Show-Me Café in the mile-long amusement zone called the Pike. The excitement Orphelia had felt when she first entered St. Louis was nothing compared to her amazement when she reached the Pike.
It was packed with more people than Orphelia had ever seen before, people from all around the world. They wore long gowns, brightly colored shirts and skirts and pants, and turbans and caps. Their skins were pale, red, yellow, brown, and black.
Orphelia was itching to explore. The coaches were parked beside the café, and Madame Meritta was busy getting herself ready for the show Othello and the others were unloading the equipment wagon. When Orphelia was sure no one was watching, she darted off into the crowd. She wouldn’t go very far; she had to be back in plenty of time to carry out a plan that had been forming in her head since they left the train station.
Orphelia wandered around, marveling at the sights. There were huge statues, castles, and temples built to resemble those found in places around the world, from France and Spain to Egypt to the continent of Asia. There were Eskimo igloos and even a reproduction of the high peaks of the Alps towering over a Swiss mountain village. She gawked at all the exhibit halls and at the people in the crowd.
Orphelia had read in newspapers at school that the St. Louis World’s Fair was so spectacular that visitors with health problems were told to be very careful lest they be overwhelmed and fall ill. Though Orphelia hadn’t become ill, she felt like she had stepped into another world completely.
There were wild and trained animals in cages—water buffalo, dogs, lions, and bears. There was even an enormous elephant, part of the magnificent Hagenbeck’s Animal Show.
Suddenly the elephant lifted its trunk, opened its mouth, and bellowed so loudly that Orphelia’s teeth vibrated. Staring in amazement, she stumbled backward and bumped right into a white woman with two babies in her arms.
“Oh, sorry,” Orphelia said.
The woman looked at her and curled her lip. “Dirty little tramp,” she snapped. “Stay out of my way, you hear? Your kind don’t belong here.”
Orphelia looked down at her clothing. After six days on the road, she did look pretty raggedy—like a common gutter girl, as Momma would say. Even so, the woman didn’t need to talk so hateful to her, she thought angrily. Maybe this was what Momma meant when she said colored people wouldn’t get treated nice at the fair.
“Hi ya, missy,” a white man at a food booth called out to Orphelia as she passed. “Have one! Best-tasting food in America! Just like they fix ’em at the ballpark.” He waved her over and handed her a cylinder-shaped piece of meat wrapped in a blanket of bread. “Take it, it’s a free sample,” he said cheerfully.
Orphelia took the food and sniffed it. It looked like one of the fat sausage links that Momma made when she squeezed ground pork into skin casings at pig-killing time. Orphelia took a bite and was relieved that it was good. “Thanks, mister,” she said.
“That’s a hot dog, in case you didn’t know,” the man explained as he handed samples to other passersby. “It’s gonna be everybody’s number one food in the world one of these days.”
As Orphelia walked around, she thought about the meanness of the woman with the babies compared to the kindness of the food vendor. Madame Meritta and Momma had both been right. Orphelia might as well expect to get treated mean one time and nice another. It was just like being back home.
A large clock in the shape of the state of Missouri showed that it was almost seven-thirty. She gobbled down the hot dog and ran back to the café.
Madame Meritta stood waiting for her, her right toe tapping furiously and her arms folded across her chest. Her face was so pinched up she looked like she was about to explode.
“Orphelia, where on earth have you been?! Are you crazy, running off by yourself like that? Lord knows I got plenty of other things to be doing right now than worrying about your whereabouts! Now get in that coach and stay there, and don’t even think about coming out till I say so! You can forget about watching the show.”
Normally Orphelia would have been devastated by those words, but right now they were just what she wanted to hear. Her plan would be easier to carry out this way. Now she could remain in the coach while everyone else was inside the café, instead of having to sneak out during the show. She retreated to the coach, secretly celebrating her good luck.
Madame Meritta came in to finish putting on her makeup. Orphelia watched her silently. She wished she wasn’t about to disobey the older woman again. Madame had been so kind to her, and Orphelia hated to cause her any more grief.
At last Othello arrived to escort Madame Meritta backstage. “Madame, it’s just about time to make our entrance,” he cal
led from outside.
“I’ll come back for you when the performance is over,” Madame said stiffly to Orphelia. Then, her face softening a bit, she added, “I’ll bring your parents with me. By now their train should have arrived and they should be on their way to the café.”
Her parents! Orphelia’s heart skipped a beat. What if they didn’t arive on time? What if they did? She couldn’t decide which would be worse.
Orphelia’s Orphan Boy costume still hung from the same ceiling hook where she had placed it after Pitchfork Creek. As soon as Madame was gone, Orphelia changed into the costume and tucked her hair under her hat. She fished the songbook out of her schoolbag and stuffed it into the top of her baggy trousers, covering it with the loose-fitting shirt.
Orphelia heard the opening notes of Madame Meritta’s Marvelous Traveling Troubadours’ theme song floating out of the Show-Me Café. That was her cue. Now is the time and this definitely is the place. No matter what happens, she told herself, at least I tried.
She left the coach and went around to the front entrance of the café. The doorman looked at her baggy clothes strangely, but when she told him she was with the show, he nodded. Breathing a sigh of relief, she went in.
Her heart beat excitedly as she made her way to the back of the theater and stood in the shadows just like she had in Pitchfork Creek.
The Minstrel's Melody Page 10