by Londyn Skye
Chapter Seventeen
Slave Code
Article X Section VII
No contract between a white person and a Negro for labor or service for a longer period than two months shall be binding on such Negro without a license obtained in writing, signed by a white person before a court justice.
“Simply brilliant!” Robert Branaugh told Landon after watching a practice run through of The Dream Symphony. After the curtains closed, Lily and the other performers retreated to the wings, leaving Robert and Landon alone in the fifth row of Branaugh Theater. Robert was the owner and manager of the small, single-story, venue in New Lexington, Ohio, two hours north of William’s estate. “I must admit, every moment of the show was just as magnificent as you said it would be,” Robert confessed.
Landon nodded as an arrogant smile crept onto his face. He was not surprised by Robert’s reaction; he was confident that he would appreciate the artistry of the show.
“Correction, it was magnificent until the Negro girl showed her face at the very end,” Robert suddenly added, letting the words escape as if they were not the least bit offensive.
Landon was caught off guard by his insult, but he was never one to show outwardly that anyone had an effect on his calm demeanor, no matter how tense the situation. “Pardon me?” he replied calmly in his German accent.
“She’s not really going to show her face here is she?” Robert questioned. “After such a lovely and artistic performance, I don’t find it the least bit necessary to ruin it all by having some Negro meandering out in front of everyone like some princess being presented at a royal ceremony.”
“She’s a beautiful young lady.”
“Beautiful or not, she’s still a Negro! Can’t you see that? Or are you color-blind?”
“You met her already. You knew that.”
“Yes, you’re right, I did. But I didn’t ever expect to see her face. Not here! Not on my stage! When you described the show to me, you never said anything about her flaunting herself in this manner. I assumed that she’d always be portrayed as a shadow behind that curtain contraption … where she belongs,” he insulted again, this time with disgust in his tone.
“Well, we all know what happens when you assume,” Landon snidely replied.
“Joke all you want, Mr. Von Brandt, but if you want to ensure that this little show gets to continue here, I will not, by any means, be seeing that Negro’s face again on that stage! And nor will any person who pays to sit within these very seats expecting to see an elegant and respectable show.”
“Then you’re asking to be sued. You can’t just breach our contract. You’ve already signed and agreed to have her show here.”
“Oh, the show can go on. But certain things within that contract allow me to modify things to my discretion. And I will not have that girl set one foot out from behind that curtain and into that spotlight … Ever!”
Landon was silent for a moment. He then stood up and slowly turned around, letting his eyes absorb every aspect of the theater’s exquisite interior. “Small details,” he began, as he slid his hands into his pockets. “Ever since I was a child, I’ve always paid attention to details. No matter how small they were, they were never able to escape me. For instance, once my father took me to a symphony where the conductor wore a toupee. I could not help but notice the way it jumped slightly from his head every time he would swing his baton. Distracted me from the whole damn show. You’d think he could afford the proper glue for that dreadful old thing. Then here tonight, as I watched Lily play her last piece.” He closed his eyes, envisioning it. “I watched her face and the way her eyes remained hidden behind her eyelids and the way her facial expressions gave away the secrets of what she sees behind them. Simply watching those small details of her beautiful face, I have no doubt it was the most heavenly place she had escaped to.” Landon opened his eyes again. “Even now as I look at this lavish theater of yours, I can’t help but notice the fine details.” He turned to a particular place and motioned with his head. “The workmanship of the wainscoting.” He turned his head in a different direction. “The dark and brooding eyes on all the sculptures and the design of all the light fixtures.” He turned in a complete circle. “And there is, of course, all the red in this place. Red walls, red cloth covered seats, red stage curtain. Yes, it could never escape my attention how undoubtedly in the red this place is.” He turned to look at Robert. “I’d say it matches quite perfectly with its financial state, wouldn’t you?”
“What?!” Robert replied, caught off guard by his question.
“Yes!” Landon pointed a finger at Robert. “There it is again! My keen sense of small details picking up on that slight quiver in your voice.”
“I don’t see the point in anything you’re saying, Mr. Von Brandt!”
“Details! I’m telling you, I don’t miss a thing! But you don’t have to have as keen an eye as I do to see that, for almost five years now, this place has run in the red, and not a single profit thus far this year either. There it was, plain as day, at the bottom of the financial documents I sifted through. Nothing but numbers plummeted far, far beneath zero. I believe you Americans call that being in the red … isn’t that right?” he asked rhetorically, while turning to look at the theater again. “Just like the dreadful color of these walls,” he murmured under his breath.
“You have no access to my financial affairs, boy!”
Landon ignored Robert’s comment and continued. “Honestly, I’ve never seen figures so low in all my life. After the first year of opening any establishment, maybe yes, that’s certainly quite the norm. But here we are, nearly five years after this place has been in operation and it seems you’ve been robbing Peter to pay Paul. Or should I say, robbing Peter to pay…” He turned from the walls and looked down at Robert again. “My father.”
Robert squinted his eyes at Landon as beads of sweat began to form on his brow. “Y-your father?” he asked. “Christoph?”
“Christoph! Yes!”
“Von Brandt,” Robert murmured under his breath after realizing the connection with their last names.
“Christoph Von Brandt! That’s him!” Landon replied, in an intentionally gleeful, annoying tone. “That … is … thee … one!” he added, pointing his finger at Robert with every word. “The same Christoph that you’ve recently written to and asked to borrow money for … oh, what is it this time?” He scratched his head. “A hotel! That’s right! Yes, he’s also the same Christoph that I can’t wait to go home and talk to about all the fine details of this theater of yours. The lavish sculptures. The wainscoting.” Landon looked up at the ceiling. “That fabulous chandelier and all of the expensive artwork.” He looked down at Robert again. “I certainly can’t wait to bring up the way you treat the guests in your establishment, and of course … all of the red in this place. Should help you with convincing my father to fund that little hotel venture of yours, don’t you think?” He paused for a moment, enjoying the sight of all the sweat suddenly accumulating on Robert’s brow. “Oh well, now, I guess that all depends on which red I decide to detail for him, doesn’t it?”
Landon’s sarcasm disappeared and his face hardened. He took a step forward and loomed over Robert, piercing him with dark, unblinking eyes. “You need a show like this, Branaugh, and fifty more of the sort. You will not deny Lily from doing what she wants here! Not tonight, not tomorrow, nor during a single moment of her show when this place is packed to the ceiling … am I clear?” he asked smugly, slightly tilting his head to the side.
“You’re asking me to disgrace this place! T-to defame it! To run it right into the ground!” Robert fired back.
“Seems you’re doing a fine job of that already.” Like an asylum patient springing back into mania, Landon’s face suddenly lit up and the sarcasm returned to his voice. “Landon Von Brandt Theater!” he exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him as if he were picturing the words on a towering marquee. “Has a nice ring to it, wouldn’t you say?” he as
ked Robert with a smile, as if there had been nothing but pleasantries exchanged between them. “Oh, the things I could do with this place! Let’s see! First, I’d certainly get rid of all the God-awful red around here.” His smile suddenly faded, his face hardened, and his cold eyes penetrated Robert again. “Right after I get rid of you!”
Chapter Eighteen
Slave Code
Article IIIX Section XII
Any free Negro of African race, whose ancestors were brought to this country and sold as slaves are not “citizens” within the meaning of the Constitution of the United States. Therefore, the special rights and immunities guaranteed to citizens do not apply to slaves or free Negroes. A slave or free Negro has no civil rights, and therefore is not entitled to sue in a court of the United States nor shall be allowed to serve as a witness or to testify against any white person.
Friday Night
July 1, 1859
Lily stood at the forefront of Branaugh Theater stage in front of a sold-out crowd. Moved by the artistry of The Dream Symphony, everybody in the building was on their feet, applauding for what seemed like an eternity. Much like the opening night on the outdoor amphitheater, many patrons were unaware that the entire ensemble had been composed and choreographed by a Negro, until Lily revealed herself at the very end. Once again, though, that surprise did not stop the warm reception from her appreciative audience. It was a moment that should have meant the world to Lily, a scene for her to embrace as yet another memorable highlight in her life. It should have conjured up an emotion of some sort, something … anything. But instead, Lily was numb. Her thoughts were elsewhere as she forced a smile to everyone who had paid to see The Dream Symphony for the very first time inside of a genuine theater.
At first, Lily stood alone at the front of the enormous stage, stiffly accepting the commendation from the crowd. But, in a spontaneous last-minute decision, the entire student orchestra trickled out from behind the curtains to stand proudly alongside her, revealing themselves to an audience for the very first time. The same body of students who once threatened to quit without the assurance of their anonymity, now all proudly stood beside her to praise her for achieving yet another milestone in her life. The warmth that the group exuded normally would have ignited Lily’s tears. But, in this instance, the sadness that she was drowning in had disconnected her from her surroundings. It was that very sadness that had moved the students to join her onstage. Knowing that Lily was hurting inside, they suddenly found themselves unconcerned with hiding and secrets. Instead, they all felt the strong need to comfort a woman who had slowly become a friend and mentor to all of them. They wanted to be there for her because James Adams, the courageous man who had started this journey with her, was now nowhere to be found. He had missed every minute of a precedent-setting night that Lily undoubtedly owed to him, William, and now to one Landon Von Brandt.
Landon was the son of Christoph Von Brandt, a very rich and powerful German acquaintance of William’s, whom he had not seen or spoken to in nearly two decades. During the weeks that William was searching for work for Lily, he had written a letter to Christoph. William knew that Christoph had invested in several theaters, hotels, and pubs in the United States; William wondered if he might be of assistance to Lily somehow. Landon was the first to read William’s letter when it arrived. The letter was so intriguing, Landon convinced his father that it would be best to respond to William in person. Landon elected to travel to the United States on his father’s behalf by playing the role of a caring son who wished to ease the burdens of his father’s hectic life. In all truthfulness, Landon’s desire to travel was under selfish pretenses. He wished to escape his father’s command for a spell and utilize the free time to drink, attend galas, and meet an array of women.
After many weeks of sailing, traipsing from state to state, enjoying fine wines, feasts, and plenty of women, Landon had reluctantly attended Lily’s symphony, only to fulfill his obligations. He had all intention of returning to his father with nothing but negative reviews. He planned to urge him not to waste his time, his good name, or his money on William’s cause. Never did Landon expect to be genuinely taken aback by what he had seen the night he first saw The Dream Symphony. The show’s deep impact shattered his selfishness and completely changed his future life goals to one that was far more selfless.
While attempting to accomplish his selfless endeavor, Landon could have very well divulged who his father was when he first approached William. Instead, he intentionally withheld his last name, hoping that William did not recall meeting him when he was just a small boy twenty years ago. Landon did not want Lily to feel as if he had been forced by his father to assist, as if she was some profitable pawn in his father’s business deals. He chose his words carefully, hoping to ensure Lily that his genuine love for her shadow-filled symphony had been the only motive behind his desire to help her share her brilliance with the world.
Landon could hardly contain his excitement about the prospect of presenting Lily’s mystical show to millions of people. He felt like a child who was eager to show off his newest gift with everyone; he wanted so badly for the masses to experience the same life-altering rush of emotions that he had while watching such spellbinding artistry. Part of Landon’s excitement was knowing the opportunity that Lily would have to speak, through her music, to people who believed in a need for slavery. Landon was appalled by the institution. He was disgusted by the slave traders and slave owners who chose money over morality. He had travelled the world with his father and naturally learned that race was not the single determining factor in one’s intellectual capacity, nor did he feel that one’s race should ever warrant an instant sentence to lifelong captivity. Landon believed that the rampant lies that preached to the contrary were propagated by human traffickers whose businesses thrived on such ill-founded facts. His disdain for the institution of slavery further motivated his desire to move mountains on Lily’s behalf; he was convinced that she could become an international sensation that exposed the propaganda of greedy elites. Landon, therefore, deemed Lily’s genius, her music, and her show as an invaluable weapon in the war against flesh-peddling thugs.
After Lily welcomed Landon to join her entourage, he quickly proved himself as a force to be reckoned with. From the outset, it was clear that he was the much-needed missing piece to The Dream Symphony puzzle. He had immediately pointed out that William’s first fatal mistake was telling potential venues in advance about Lily’s color. While negotiating with theater owners, Landon planned only to paint the elegant mental image of the show and never mention who or what Lily is. That blatant reality was something he felt managers could witness with their own eyes when Lily showed up for stage rehearsals. By then, Landon figured the impending venue would be sold out and that it was highly unlikely that anyone would complain about Lily being brown after their pockets had already been stuffed with green.
Green was what Landon wanted for Lily as well … piles of it. Landon’s natural selfishness proved to be the greatest asset in ensuring that Lily would never receive a penny less than she was worth for presenting her one-of-a-kind musical artwork. Landon’s massive ego simply would not allow him to be defeated by anyone he dealt with on Lily’s behalf. While seeing her toward riches, he was willing to sting quickly with his venomous tongue, a fact that Robert Branaugh was the first to learn. After sifting through the financial files of the theaters that his father had invested in, Landon had learned of how poorly mismanaged Branaugh Theater was. He knew the struggling theater would provide the perfect place to force his way in and begin a precedent setting run for The Dream Symphony. His underhanded methods further proved how ruthless he was willing to be on Lily’s behalf.
For William, having Landon eased the burdens of having to deal with things that were never his area of expertise; it freed him to focus solely on assisting a woman who had become like a daughter to him. So, while William worked tirelessly with Lily expounding on her show, Landon continued to work feverishly,
manipulating and negotiating in the shadows with perspective theater owners. Within weeks, he had already booked the symphony for three different theaters, on a mini tour of sorts, with the first leg beginning at Branaugh Theater.
All of Landon’s efforts had ultimately helped lead to this very moment: Lily onstage, being figuratively embraced by the student orchestra in front of a sea of applauding onlookers, inside the beauty of her first real theater. Unfortunately, though, with the absence of James, Lily was unable to fully appreciate the joy of her grand finale. Her current state of numbness had been compounded by the fact that Landon had incessantly expressed the importance of perfection for opening night. He constantly reminded everyone that this first show would set the tone for shows to come and that the reviews would be crucial to giving strength to the legs that would carry The Dream Symphony forward. This notion weighed heavily on everyone and began to make the pressure nearly unbearable for Lily. That pressure had already been preceded by unforeseen challenges that had arisen while transporting supplies and props on their way to dress rehearsals in New Lexington. To further add to the madness of their tumultuous travels, Lily was told she would not be allowed to stay in the hotel that had been reserved for everyone. Not a single other hotel in its vicinity welcomed her either, forcing her to use the dressing room in the theater as a makeshift bedroom for the entire week. With every challenge, though, Lily did not allow herself to be broken. She pushed through her stresses with her spirits high and a positive outlook, until just hours before the opening number of the show. It was not until then that Lily allowed the dark cloud drifting over her to cast a shadow of doubt on the confidence everyone had in the fact that they would have a successful opening night.
In the hours before showtime, Lily was not enthusiastic and full of life, the way she was at all her previous shows. Normally, she was commanding professionalism from everyone, taking charge, and ensuring that every minor detail was in order … but not on this night. With the opening number fast approaching, Lily was nowhere near her usual self. She sat alone in her dressing room, emptily staring into the mirror, her mind wracked with genuine concern over James’s unknown whereabouts. The heaviness of her despair made her realize just how much strength she truly garnered from James’s presence. Her despondency was so obviously crippling that the most unlikely person felt a need to speak to her before the show began.