All Is Swell

by Robert Farrell Smith

  It was a hard production to watch. Not even Sister Watson’s vibrato could cover up the awful lyrics she had written. People were still stumbling over lines and Ed Washington had a mild case of stage fright that made him wiggle when he spoke. I asked Sister Watson about alternates but she told me that the idea was ridiculous. No one would dare back out of such an important production. As far as she was concerned, the only way out of the performance was by death. She cited the example of her late husband.

  As Elder Staples and I were sitting there, Frank Porter walked up. Frank was playing the part of the wicked ham. He had initially refused to be in the play. He said he didn’t want that many people looking at him, but Sister Watson talked him into being the ham, seeing how the costume was a complete disguise. She guaranteed him that people wouldn’t recognize him by his feet. Frank took the part knowing that his role would be crucial to the success of the show.

  The ham stepped up to us and stopped.

  “So what do you think, Frank?” I asked. “Is the show going to be a success?”

  Frank grunted.

  “Has the pageant committee decided on what food they will be serving?”

  Frank grunted again.

  The pageant committee consisted of Sister Watson, President and Sister Heck, Toby, Teddy Yetch, and Grace. Grace was basically a member by default. Since she had helped her mother with the costumes, Sister Watson felt it necessary to include her on the board.

  “Have all the invitations been mailed out?” I asked Frank the Ham.

  He didn’t answer me.

  “How many people have they invited to this thing?” Elder Staples asked me.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “At least a few thousand. Digby put posters up on telephone poles in Virgil’s Find and at the mall in Collin’s Blight.”

  “Do you think anybody will actually show up?” Elder Staples laughed.

  “I sure hope so,” I replied, looking at the huge stage and realizing just how much effort had been put into this thing. My gut told me otherwise. What were the chances that any outsider, let alone a crowd, would be interested in coming to see “All Is Swell”?

  The cast on the stage broke out in song. They all sang along until Ed forgot one of his lines. Everyone stopped to look at each other.

  “What’s my next line?” Ed asked Sister Watson in frustration.

  Sister Watson began flipping through her script.

  “The work is moving forth,” I hollered out, offering my assistance.

  Sister Watson located the line in her script. “The work is moving forth,” she said in amazement. “How did you know that?” she asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s not that long of a script. I read through it a couple of times. It kind of sticks in your mind, I guess.”

  “Can we continue?” Ed demanded, his legs twisting under him. “The line just slipped away from me for a moment. It won’t happen again.”

  “All right,” Sister Watson yelled, “from the top.”

  Frank wandered off back behind the stage. We watched the next two scenes and then stood up to go to an early afternoon teaching appointment over at Judy Bickerstaff’s home.

  President Heck caught us as we were walking away.

  “Have either of you seen Grace?” he asked.

  We both shook our heads no.

  “She put on Frank’s costume to see if a person could walk with it on and never came back. I hope she didn’t fall over and roll into the river. I think we’re going to have to cut out a couple of arm holes in that ham. It’s no fun falling over if you can’t catch yourself.”

  Patty Heck stepped out from behind the stage and yelled at President Heck.

  “I found her,” she informed him.

  “Never mind, guys,” he said, walking off and away from us.

  “So that was Grace in the ham,” Elder Staples elbowed me.

  “I didn’t know,” I pointed out.

  “I’m sure you didn’t, Sport.”

  “So, what did you think of the play?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “I think it’s even worse than some of the productions my sister used to stage in our backyard,” Elder Staples answered.

  “I hope this turns out to be a good thing,” I sighed.

  “Think of it this way,” Elder Staples said. “Even if everyone hates it, at least it will finally be over.”

  I was comforted, I think.

  33

  Live and Let Act

  Two nights before the sesquicentennial pageant there was a knock on the door. I opened it up to find President Heck standing there, his face sober and long.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “There’s been a problem with the pageant,” he replied.

  I looked over at the huge completed stage on the far end of the meadow. It sat there, just waiting to be poorly acted upon.

  “What kind of problem?” I asked.

  “I think you’d better come with me.”

  Elder Staples and I followed President Heck over to Sister Watson’s home. We entered without knocking. There was Sister Watson sitting on the couch. Next to her was Patty Heck, Teddy Yetch, Toby Carver, and behind Toby was Grace. I would have been happy to see her, I mean them, if it wasn’t for the grave expressions on their faces. My heart shrunk to the size of a grape, then shriveled to a raisin. I suddenly felt guilty for something I had never done. It was as if I had been caught and dragged before a jury. How did they know that ten minutes earlier, I had had a quick, safe and fleeting thought about Grace?

  These people were good.

  It had caught up with me. I had tried not to let the presence of Grace be a distraction on my mission. I guess maybe I had failed. It was pretty tricky of President Heck to fool me into coming over by claiming there was a problem with the pageant. Everyone stared at me.

  “I can explain,” I offered nervously.

  “You can?” Sister Watson asked.

  “My mission president knows all about it,” I fumbled, trying not to look at Grace.

  “He does?” President Heck asked.

  “I’ve kept him informed.”

  “Of what?” Toby asked.

  I looked around. Everyone was obviously confused. I decided that now was a good time for me to shut up. Grace looked my way.

  “You can explain about Ed?” Sister Watson asked in disbelief.

  “What about Ed?” I questioned.

  “Paul got to him. We don’t know how, but now he’s refusing to do the pageant unless we give in to Paul’s demands,” Toby said.

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Wish we were,” President Heck said sadly.

  “What are his demands?” I asked, bracing myself for the worst.

  Sister Watson picked up a piece of paper in front of her.

  “These are some of the lyrics Paul insists we use,” she said.

  God gave to all

  The gift of Paul

  So listen to his will.

  The price of cheese

  May rise and dip

  But Paul is with us still.

  Everyone grimaced. Paul made Sister Watson’s lyrics sound almost normal.

  “That’s why we got together as this committee tonight,” President Heck added. “Grace and Patty have finished the costumes, Toby’s done with the stage, and the others are ready to act. But we can’t do the play without the lead male.”

  “Just find someone else,” I reasoned.

  “Where are we going to find someone at this hour?” Patty asked. “No one knows the lines.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed. “Surely someone knows them. Even I know most of them.”

  Everyone smiled.

  I had been tricked, all right. Except these people weren’t calling me on the carpet because of Grace, they were calling me on stage due to Paul. It was all a setup. I had warned Sister Watson about having alternate actors, now here was my own forewarning biting me in the un-thespian-like end.

&n
bsp; “I can’t—”

  “Sure you can,” Sister Watson said. “I think it would be only fitting to have you in our play. True, you’re not blood, but you’re the longest lingering outsider we’ve ever had here.”

  “I can’t act,” I pointed out.

  “You just got to pretend you’re someone else for an hour or so,” Toby instructed. “It’s real easy. I do it all the time.”

  “I think it’s against my mission rules,” I argued.

  “We can call your mission president if you’d like,” President Heck offered.

  “There’s going to be people from all over,” I said, though I didn’t really believe it. “You guys have invited the entire state. You don’t want me going up there and doing a halfway job.”

  “If that’s the best you can do,” Patty said.

  I looked at Grace, thinking that maybe she would help me.

  “I think the people would love it,” she smiled.

  “The part requires singing!” I stated in a panic.

  “All in favor say aye,” Sister Watson sang out.

  “Aye!”

  “Don’t I have a say in this?” I begged.

  “Think of how this will help the missionary work,” Brother Heck comforted.

  “You’ve never seen me act,” I said dejectedly.

  “Well, I won’t have to wait long to do so,” he replied.

  Sister Watson, Patty Heck and Teddy Yetch got up and went to the kitchen. Grace slipped out the back door, avoiding me as usual, and Toby laid down on the couch as if preparing for a late night nap on Sister Watson’s sofa.

  “I knew we could count on you,” President Heck said, putting his arm around me. “I was the one that brought up your name.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t mention it,” he replied.

  Elder Staples and I went home and read our scriptures. Then I took a few minutes to go over my lines. I couldn’t believe that they were making me do this. But it looked as if the only way I was going to get out of it was to die. Maybe I’d die of embarrassment.

  I had only one more day to live.

  34

  Take a Seat

  I had called President Clasp, and he seemed to think the idea of me acting in a pageant for nonmembers was a splendid one. In fact, he promised that he’d try to be there. We did a quick dress rehearsal the next day. It went pretty well.

  Toby and Pete spent the day making sure that the big stage was in working order and adjusting the lighting. Leo and CleeDee went into Virgil’s Find to pass out even more invitations. I was starting to believe that every person in the state of Tennessee who could read or hear would know about the play. Knowing and doing, however, were two very different things. I still couldn’t imagine anyone who wasn’t directly involved, taking the time to hike in.

  After the dress rehearsal we set up all the rented chairs. It seemed as if there were thousands of them. If we filled one-fourth of them the following day, I would consider the pageant a smashing success. We wheeled the piano from out of the boardinghouse over to the stage.

  Sister Heck brought out the curtain that she had made and Digby and Sybil Porter worked well into the night hanging it up. When all was said and done, things looked pretty good.

  “This is going to be huge,” President Heck said almost to himself, bustling with pride.

  “Yeah, huge,” I repeated less enthusiastically.

  “Do you think it will bring people back to church?” President Heck asked almost reverently.

  “Hey, anything’s possible,” I said, wanting to encourage him. Then I thought of Feeble and his vision, Roswell’s translation, Paul’s holy finger and the huge bread loaf.

  “Anything’s possible,” I repeated with more conviction, “anything at all.”

  35

  Lights, Camera, Traction

  The town was packed. I had never in my life seen more people gathered in one spot. Half an hour before the play, every chair was filled and people were spilling out onto blankets or lawn chairs they had brought themselves. There were at least seven different news teams, each with huge cameras waiting to catch this monstrous human interest story as it unfolded. A few extremely rugged looking trucks had even worked their way down the path and into our town. If I had been nervous before, I was now ready to choke up a lung. I had not signed on for this. I remembered quite clearly twenty months ago when I had shuffled into Thelma’s Way. I remembered the small orange signs posted on the electric poles informing folks of the pre-planning meeting. I remembered thinking that it was absolutely none of my business, seeing how I would be so far away when the pageant was actually performed.

  There were multiple tables set up with piles of food for all those in attendance. People milled around eating and waiting for the big show. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me.

  President Heck, Leo, Pete, CleeDee, Toby, Frank, Elder Staples, and I all huddled behind the closed curtain on stage. We were all dressed in our costumes and trying to contain our performance night jitters. (All of us but Elder Staples that is, who was calm as a summer’s day and looking forward to some good laughs.)

  Every couple of seconds Toby would crack open the curtain and peek out into the darkening sky at the huge crowd.

  “There’s got to be over a hundred people out there,” Toby whispered in fear.

  “A hundred,” I replied. “There’s at least five thousand, maybe more.”

  “Wooo,” Frank blew.

  “What time is it?” I asked to no one in particular.

  “We’ve only got a few minutes ’til starting time,” President Heck answered.

  “Where’s Sister Watson anyway?” Pete Kennedy shook. I saw him reach for the spot on his hip where his gun would have been. He did it without thinking about it. Maybe it gave him comfort. “I haven’t seen her around all day,” he added.

  “Patty went to fetch her,” President Heck replied. “I guess she’s been really resting up all day in preparation for tonight.”

  No sooner had President Heck spoken when Sister Watson appeared. She was with Patty Heck, Teddy Yetch, and Grace. I tried not to look at Grace for fear of losing it. I was barely holding myself together as it was. Patty Heck was the first to speak.

  “Sister Watson has lost her voice,” she said quite dryly.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said.

  “It’s no joke.” Sister Heck was very serious. “She must have lost it yesterday during dress rehearsal. She can barely whisper. She’s been icing her throat all day, hoping it would get better. It hasn’t.”

  “What are we going to do?” Leo moaned.

  Sister Watson shook her head and began to weep.

  Toby pulled his Ace bandage out of his pocket and began to wrap Sister Watson’s neck. It was almost sweet.

  “Does anyone here know Sister Watson’s lines?” Patty Heck begged. “You’ve all been practicing with her, someone’s got to remember what she says?”

  “I was too busy trying to learn my own lines,” Toby apologized.

  “I could give it a go,” Leo said, wanting to help.

  “Thanks Leo, Toby, but I meant any of the ladies. CleeDee, do you think you know Sister Watson’s lines well enough to do them?” Sister Heck asked.

  “I’ve been too busy dating Leo to really pay attention,” CleeDee replied.

  “What about Miss Flitrey?” I asked.

  “The costume won’t fit her,” Patty Heck answered matter-of-factly.

  This was just great. For twenty months they had been planning this pageant, and now five minutes from showtime, the whole thing was falling apart. Sister Watson was the leading lady. Drusa brings Parley back to health. She sings four of the eight songs by herself. Her character is on stage alone for a third of the play.

  “Can’t we just leave her part out?” Pete asked. “You know, work around it?”

  Sister Watson shook her head firmly.

  “This is the most important part in the whole pl
ay,” I said. “There is no pageant without it. I can’t believe this.”

  “Five minutes ’til showtime,” President Heck announced mournfully.

  We needed a miracle. There were five thousand spectators to feed and not a single slice of talent to divide up. We stood there in shock.

  Then Grace said softly, “I know the lines.”

  Everyone turned to look.

  “I’ve heard Sister Watson say them a hundred times,” she explained. “I’ve also read over the script. I might not know them exactly, but I think I could get close.”

  It was a stunning moment. Grace was the town recluse. She hid herself up in the hills and avoided people like the plague. Was she really offering to walk out unrehearsed in front of thousands of people?

  “Would you do it?” Patty Heck asked, disbelieving.

  Grace nodded with confidence, even certainty.

  “There’s songs,” President Heck informed his daughter.

  Grace hadn’t sung in public since she was eight years old. Toby told me she had sung at her own baptism and did such a terrible job that people actually covered their ears and hummed something else.

  “She can’t be worse than no singing at all.” Leo tried to be practical.

  “I don’t know about that,” Toby replied. “If you remember—”

  “We have no choice,” President Heck interrupted. “I’m certain Grace’s voice has matured. Right, Grace?”

  “We could just cancel the play,” Grace offered, underwhelmed by everyone’s confidence.

  Sister Watson shook her head. “Places,” she whispered.

  We scurried off to our positions. My insides were beginning to knot up. I half-wished Pete had been allowed to bring his gun so he could put me out of my misery.

  I was certain President Clasp would not have allowed me to be in this play if he knew it would be Grace that nursed my character back to health. The thought of being in Sister Watson’s arms as she sang to sick Parley had seemed innocent enough before.

  This was going to be some pageant.

  The wind was beginning to pick up. I could hear the crowd growing restless and then Sister Heck started playing the introduction on the piano.