by Eric Flint
"We're prepared to give you a cut of all proceeds. We'll keep the VOA address only on those flyers. Each week Maria or someone representing her can come by and open all the mail in front of your people. What kind of percentage do you want?" With that, Roy shut up.
John grinned. "I suspected there was money in those envelopes. I just couldn't figure out how you were getting listeners to send it in. So Marc, what kind of split seems fair? Remember, this is a religious organization."
Marc had been ready with his answer until John brought that up. Marc recalled the kindness that had always been shown to him as a Jew in this community. He even had very clear memories of dealings with a good number of the members of this Pentecostal Church. With that in mind, he answered, "I think we should accept it as a tithe, Mr. Grover. Ten percent of all mailed in donations on top of all the financial conditions we've worked out before. That would be fair."
The people from the church seemed taken back at this act of generosity from the station sales manager. His reputation for increasing his pricing at the drop of a hat was well earned.
"That certainly is fair, Marc. Okay, Roy. We've got ourselves a deal."
"So when can we start, John?"
John asked, "How soon can we clear an hour on Saturday, Marc?"
Marc briefly thought through his ad commitments. "Think you can be ready this Saturday night, Mr. and Mrs. Copenhaver? That will give you three shows before Christmas."
Roy responded, "Absolutely! We'll be ready."
Fischer paid very little attention to the details. His mind was spinning over the size of the congregation he would be able to reach every week. Surely The Holy Spirit is guiding me toward the mission that Reverend Chalker foresaw that first Bible study. Praise the Lord!
Chapter Nine
"And now a programming note, be sure to join us this Saturday night at six thirty for the brand new show, The Ole Timey Radio Hour featuring live blue grass, country, and gospel music, singing, fun, and the best talent Europe has to offer. That's The Ole Timey Radio Hour, hosted by Reverend Dieter Fischer, this Saturday night at six thirty on Your Voice of America!"
Susannah Becker was busily emptying the contents of one almost-finished bowl into its replacement full bowl when she spotted the girls. Every week the Bible study had attracted more and more visitors who still attended their regular denomination churches on Sundays. Now with the word out about a big announcement about the church and the radio, it seemed like everyone who had ever attended was packed into Slater's barn tonight.
With the noise that the fiddle group up on stage was making, she couldn't start up a conversation yet, but Susannah made a mental note to do so at the earliest opportunity. Both girls were dressed very nicely. Not anything that she would wear, with her Mennonite background, but not dressier either. It was just something about the way they wore their clothes that made Susannah think there was something special about them.
After the last of the music, Brother Fischer walked on stage carrying the church rocking chair.
"As Brother Chalker would say," Fischer jiggled his jaw and puffed his cheeks before continuing in a scratchy voice, "Well, I guess it's time we got started."
After enjoying the laughter at the dead-on impression, Fischer continued, "First, let's thank Brother and Sister Slater and Phyllis Dobbs for hosting our Bible study in their barn throughout the winter. I also wanted to convey Reverend Chalker's best wishes and to let you know that he continues to improve and hopes that the doctor will let him sit here before you on Monday night real soon."
Fischer continued with a list of prayer requests for individuals associated with the church, and thanks for answered prayers. After briefly bowing his head and saying thanks for the Lord's work, he came to the big announcement about the radio program. There was a lot of applause at this. Fischer outlined how the church was going to handle it, how they would be holding auditions with the finalists featured on the program to be chosen right here before weekly Bible study. He finished by asking for volunteers to help get everything ready.
"I want you all to pray for Elder Jennifer Copenhaver. She's agreed to the chore of being in charge of all the musical parts of this new venture. Since she's dropping her pre-nursing course, I guess that will leave the nursing duties in the Copenhaver family to her sister-in-law, Gloria. Let's all let Jennifer know how grateful we are for this sacrifice." After leading the prayer, Fischer continued with the Bible study passages for the night.
Susannah finished cleaning up the dinner plates and was walking back into the barn. Looking around, she again noticed the two girls she'd seen earlier sitting in back and eased into an open spot on the bench right beside them.
As they followed along in their own Bibles, Susannah studied the girls more carefully. They did not have the hands of commoners, they certainly weren't up-timers, and while those clothes looked in place, the stitching was much better than what could be seen in most clothing not produced by a sewing machine.
One innovation Fischer had brought to Bible study was to give time for those in attendance to discuss an occasional passage amongst themselves after he had given his thoughts. This allowed Susannah to introduce herself to these young women.
Their names were Constanzia Garb and Catharina Sulzer. Cousins on their mother's side, Constanzia had been visiting her cousin and her family in Badenburg. Constanzia had gotten a job teaching Italian and French at the high school through Constanzia's older half brother Johann Martin Sulzer who had been teaching science at the school for over a year. Catharina had gotten a job at the school library. Still no explanation of the clothing, but Susannah figured that if these girls could survive in a high school with a bunch of teenagers, they must be good girls. And they were single.
After Bible study, Susannah found it very easy to keep Constanzia and Catharina engaged in conversation as she subtly guided them to the front of the barn. Catching Fischer's eye, she waved him over. "Reverend Dieter Fischer, I'd like to introduce you to two guests. This is Constanzia Garb and her cousin Catharina Sulzer. They are teachers at the high school!"
Fischer smiled warmly as he shook hands with the women, "Thank you for coming, ladies. You're always welcome at our church."
"Thank you, Reverend. We heard you on the radio a few weeks ago and visited last Sunday. I've been trying to get my cousin here." Catharina grinned at her cousin. "She hasn't had as much time as I have to get used to the open approach to religion that the up-timers brought us."
"I understand completely." Fischer smiled. "Before coming to Grantville, I was a Lutheran pastor myself. The revelation that Reverend Chalker and this congregation have shown me is that God directly guides each of us. We must honor the guidance being given to all, even if it seems to contradict what He has in mind for us."
So it is true he had been a Lutheran pastor, Constanzia thought. Maybe my family won't object if I were to get to know this man better.
At the same time Catharina thought, No, not for me, but this man is fine husband material.
***
Back when Gayle Mason had been married, her truck-driving husband arranged for a few days off between loads in Memphis, Tennessee. Gayle flew down to join him and they did a whirlwind tour of that rockabilly Mecca. In addition to Graceland and rubbed barbecue, they paid homage to the place it all began, 706 Union Avenue, the home of Sun Records.
So when Gayle decided to finish her new home's basement for her electronics workshop and ham station and saw the exact style of acoustic tile used in the recording studio where everyone from Johnny Cash to Jerry Lee Lewis to the King himself recorded their breakout hits, how could she turn it down? It took some more research to find the exact dimensions of the main recording studio at Sun Records, but down to the positions of the doors and windows and electrical plugs, Gayle's new basement was a complete clone.
She set up her control room in the area under the front porch, where the only deviation was in keeping the two diamond shaped windows that overlooked Buffalo
Creek.
Now, on this Saturday night for the very first time since Gayle had finished her basement-remodeling project, the perfect studio was about to be used as it was meant to be. Microphones were set up in several corners of the room so one act could follow another seamlessly. People were sitting around tuning guitars and fiddles and adjusting their drums.
By the time Jennifer Copenhaver arrived to warm up the voices of her handpicked studio choir, even Sam Phillips wouldn't have known that he wasn't in Memphis.
***
"All right now," Jennifer said with five minutes to show time. "Everyone sounded great last night at the dress rehearsal and everyone will sound great tonight. Just remember that the trick to performing in front of an audience isn't to get rid of those butterflies in your stomach, but to get them all to fly in formation!"
When the old public speaking joke brought the intended laughter, Jennifer felt that her part of the show at least, would run smoothly.
Fischer's part was more complicated. After he was introduced, he pretty much had to orchestrate the rest of the show. He had written a script, which had sounded a little stiff to him last night, but the rest of the cast assured him it was fine.
In the control room, first night jitters were in full display as well. Jacob Blackman read his news like normal. But, Deanna Dee Matowski and Jennifer Hanson were present to oversee anything they might have forgotten in the run through. Jon Fredric, the normal Saturday night DJ was on his best behavior. In fact, all week he had been staying after the station went off the air, practicing up for this, the biggest production that VOA had attempted so far. Just to be sure, in the recording studio stood two other VOA employees ready to replace a faulty mike or to move a pesky cord.
All those present, cast and crew, seemed to look to one another for reassurance that everything was going to be okay when Jon flipped a switch starting up the VOA end of news sounder, held his hand up over his head and counted down, "Five, four, three, two…"
***
"Turn your radio on…" Jennifer held the note just a bit longer before she cued her choir to come in. "Turn your radio on. (Turn your radio on)."
Over the sound of the choir, Thomas Werner, another down-timer congregant who had been drafted due to his rich baritone voice, broke in, "Welcome to the first performance of The Ole Timey Radio Hour on Your Voice of America! And now, your host, the Reverend Dieter Fischer!"
As Jon cut back the microphones to the choir, Fischer introduced the various members of the cast that would be performing tonight. He closed out by introducing the next act, which played "Guitars Pickin', Fiddles Wailin'!"
When they broke for the first set of commercials, everyone looked relieved. With their confidence restored, they were all excited to begin again. Song after song went smoothly.
During the children's story segment in the second fifteen-minute block, one child decided that he'd rather play with the drums than sit and listen to the story. Deanna had to pick him up and stick a piece of candy in his mouth to keep him quiet. They had decided not to use a lot of scripted humor on this first show. It was too risky, but the other segues they put between acts worked as they were written.
After the local newsbreak at the bottom of the hour, Fischer announced the contest for a chance to perform live on the air. The first three contestants would be featured on the show right before Christmas with listeners' mail determining the winner. Finally it was time to perform the featured song of the night.
"Welcome back my friends," Fischer began again. "At some time in the future that was, a small congregation in Oberndorf, near Salzburg, heard a song that became the favorite Christmas season song for centuries to come. Tonight, join us as Jennifer Copenhaver performs what we believe is going to become your favorite song of this season accompanied only by her choir. Here then is 'Silent Night.'"
Jennifer began slowly singing the first verse of that old standby. By the time the choir joined in with the chorus, listeners all over were absolutely quiet. Most were hearing this remarkable composition for the very first time. By the final verse, in family rooms and public places all over the coverage area of VOA, you could hear voices joining in singing the chorus on their own.
"Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht!
Hirten erst kundgemacht
Durch der Engel Alleluja,
Tont es laut bei Ferne und Nah:
Jesus der Retter ist da!
Jesus der Retter ist da!"
When Jennifer finished up the last line, Fischer stepped up to the microphone, "Wouldn't you love to have a copy of that beautiful song for you and your family to share? That's the featured song of tonight's show and we'll send it to you. Free and without any postage costs either way, if you'll just write into us asking for Featured Song, Show One, Care of Voice of America, One Mountaineer Lane, Grantville, United States of Europe. It's our gift to you this special season."
After repeating the address and offer a second time, Fischer cued Jennifer and her choir to sing the closing song as he bade goodbye to the listeners.
***
Stretching Out, Part Six: King of the Jungle
Iver P. Cooper
Paramaribo (Gustavus), Suriname
Short Dry Season (February-March, 1635)
"My children. Help find?" The Dutch words were painfully enunciated, clearly learned by rote.
Maria Vorst put down the chalk with which she had been drawing, and studied the questioner. The tall black man, by his markings, was Coromantee. They were the people living in what the up-timers called Ghana. He was one of the two hundred or so slaves who the Gustavans had freed from the distressed slave ship Triton when it had come hunting for drinking water.
Perhaps half of the slaves knew some Portuguese, either because their tribes had traded with the Portuguese, or because they learned it after their capture. Only a few knew Dutch, the Dutch presence in Africa being more recent and more limited.
Unfortunately, the Gustavans were mostly Dutch and German, and hardly any of them knew Portuguese. Maria, despite being far better educated than the rest of the colonists, didn't know much herself, although she was trying to fit language lessons into her schedule.
Fortunately, her teacher was nearby. "Mauricio, come here please!" Mauricio, a freed mulatto, born in Portuguese Brazil, had been trained there as a scribe and interpreter. Because of the large slave population in Brazil, he knew African, as well as European, languages. Once, he and Henrique had lived in Recife, and Mauricio had gone time after time to the dock to meet and greet, in his capacity as interpreter, the "wild" slaves, just delivered there to work on the sugar plantations. Most came from Angola, but there were slaves from all over Africa.
Maria remembered that there had been a few children among the slaves they had freed. She explained the situation to Mauricio and had him translate. "What are your children's names? How old are they? What do they look like?"
Mauricio turned to the Coromantee. They spoke rapidly together, first in Portuguese, and then in the Twi dialect of Akan.
"I am Kojo of the Asante. My boy Manu has seen thirteen summers, and his sister Mansa, eleven." Kojo described them.
"Where did you see them last?"
The answer was not what Maria expected.
"In Edina."
"Edina?" interjected her companion, Mauricio. "You mean Sao Jorge da Mina?" The man nodded.
Mauricio turned to Maria. "He was separated from his children back in Africa, in the Portuguese fortress you Dutch call Elmina."
"Elmina? My husband, may God rest his soul, spoke of it once, as a place of great trade. Somewhat enviously, I must say."
Mauricio nodded. "Enviously? That's for sure. The Dutch tried to take Elmina in 1625." He paused. "Where is this husband of yours, by the way?"
"He was lost at sea," Maria said.
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you. It was years ago. And to be honest, I didn't know him all that well."
"Anyway," Mauricio continued, "Elmina was the first P
ortuguese base in Africa. On what we call the 'Gold Coast.' A century ago, it accounted for a tenth of the entire gold trade. There's still gold mined in that area, but nowadays Elmina is mostly a slave depot. Dozens of slave ships visit every year."
"Does he know which ship they were put on? Not the name, of course, but can he describe it? The number of masts? Or of its gunports? The figurehead?"
"I'll ask." He questioned Cojo further, then shook his head.
"Sorry, Maria. They don't give the captives the run of the fort you know. The children were taken first. He saw them at one point, in a different pen, so they were there when he arrived, but the guards didn't let him join them and they were sold off before he was. When he was put on the Triton, he hoped that it would take him to the same place."
"So, is it hopeless? What do we tell him, Mauricio?"
Mauricio suddenly looked much older than usual. "I don't know. It does seems hopeless. If I think of something, I will let you know. In the meantime, all I can do is say that we will pray that they are safe, and that if we learn anything about their whereabouts, we will tell him right away."
"That seems so… ineffectual."
Mauricio shrugged.
"Wait," said Maria. "If he can provide a good enough description, I can draw them. Then you and he can show the drawings around, see if anyone knows more. And at worst, perhaps the drawings will give him some comfort."
Mauricio explained what Maria wanted to do. Maria didn't want to waste her precious paper, so she drew on a piece of slate. It was easier to erase that way, too. She decided to try to draw the boy first, guessing that his features would be similar to, but younger than, his father's. She erased a line here and added a curve there until the father seem satisfied.