All Is Swell

by Robert Farrell Smith

  We were about to make history. One way or another.

  I could barely see Digby up on the scaffolding above me. He pulled on the ropes and opened the curtain. Our narrator, President Heck, stepped to the middle of the stage where Pete flipped on a light and beamed it down at him.

  The crowd was quiet.

  Patty Heck tickled the ivories softly as President Heck spoke into his hand-held microphone. He was only shaking slightly.

  “On behalf of the Thelma’s Way pageant committee, I—”

  SRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEPPP!!!

  Feedback ripped through the air. The audience jumped in their seats. A startled President Heck held the microphone away from his mouth and continued.

  “I would like to welcome one and all to the sesquicentennial production of ‘All Is Swell.’ While it is based on a true story, we would like you to know that those historical figures being represented didn’t actually sing.”

  The lights went off and Pete began to flick them on and around in dramatic sequence. It’s hard to make a couple of colored yard lights look spectacular, but Pete was giving it his all. He swung the big swivel light through the air, finally resting it on President Heck, who was still standing in the middle of the stage.

  “The history behind the land you’re sitting on is not necessarily pretty,” President Heck spoke. “In fact at moments it’s been just plain ugly. As you will see tonight, it took much work and a handful of miracles to bring us to where we are. ‘Where are we?’ you ask. Well, this is Thelma’s Way, Tennessee.”

  It was a big crescendo, but nobody clapped. President Heck coughed nervously.

  “A hundred and fifty years ago,” he hurried on, “on this exact day, a young, inspired girl named Thelma wandered into this valley with a host of worn-out travelers. Their only ambition in life was to be able to worship for free.”

  The lights slapped off for a second and then flipped back on. They were shining on Narlette, who was playing the part of Thelma, as she lead Leo, CleeDee, and Toby across the stage. Both Leo and Toby were pulling what looked to be two of the most modern-looking handcarts I had ever seen. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn they were red metal wagons. Narlette stopped in the middle of the stage and spoke.

  “I say this is a good place to stop,” Narlette said haltingly. “The heavens have really, really, really, blessed us with blessings.” Narlette stared at Leo, who was suddenly locked up with fear.

  “I mean they have really blessed us,” Narlette prodded.

  Toby elbowed Leo.

  “They have,” Leo finally said.

  “Perhaps we should give thanks to our Creator in song,” Toby clamored. “Hymns are a way of praising.”

  My heart raced. I knew we were just moments away from the first song. Once they heard us sing, I expected half the crowd would pick up their things and try to sneak off.

  “We shall call this place home,” Narlette said, warming to the idea of performing in front of thousands.

  Da, da, da, Sister Heck began on the piano. The cast on stage began to sing:

  We’ve found a piece of heaven,

  tucked here in Tennessee.

  We’re waiting for the blessings

  that we’ve been guaranteed.

  Ed stepped forward with flair,

  The Girth will give us water,

  CleeDee belted out,

  The land will be our friend,

  Narlette shouted,

  We’ll worship here in Thelma’s Way

  until the bitter end.

  They all then danced and marched in a circle around the wagons. I counted sixteen circles before I gave up and said a prayer asking for mercy. The lights flicked off and everyone shuffled off stage. President Heck took front and center again. Pete lit him up.

  “Two years after they entered this valley an apostle for the Mormon church paid a visit. His name was Parley P. Pratt. He taught the locals many wonderful things. As a way of showing their thanks the town had a big dinner celebration in his honor. The dish served up was ham, and the ham served up was infected.”

  The entire congregation Ewwwed.

  “Parley P. Pratt became very ill,” President Heck finished.

  The light flashed off of President Heck.

  I was on.

  I walked to the center of the stage. I could hear my heart beating. I could see Sister Watson off to the side praying for me. Pete shined the light on me. For an instant, I wished I were dead and heading towards it. All the extras gathered around as I stood on a small wooden box and pretended to preach.

  “I bring you news from Zion,” I began. “The work is moving forth.”

  “Let’s have a dinner to celebrate,” Toby recited.

  “Why not,” Leo boomed. “We have earned this celebration. I’m certain that the heavens will not punish us for being too smug.”

  This play contained some really powerful dialogue.

  “Let the celebration begin,” CleeDee announced.

  This was the moment I think I was most dreading. The play was bad enough, but this dancing ham scene was going to kill me. Tables were pulled out from the corners of the stage and all of us actors began to act as if we were enjoying a great meal. Sister Heck played the piano softly as some of the young local kids danced around us dressed as food. Lupert was potato salad, someone was gravy, and another kid was a bag of jelly beans. We had discussed the fact that the pioneers probably didn’t have jelly beans, but Sister Watson had seen the idea of wearing a big clear sack and stuffing it with blown up balloons in a Woman’s World magazine and just couldn’t resist making the clever costume.

  After the kids had danced around for a few minutes, Frank Porter emerged from stage right disguised as the giant ham hock. Sister Heck began to pound on the piano, the music growing louder and more sinister. Frank crept up on me. I pretended not to see him until he leaped, throwing his arms around me. The rest of the cast began to sing as I wrestled with the wicked ham.

  What is this meat that’s got the man?

  It looks like Satan’s loose again.

  How can we stand for what is true

  When Satan tampers with our food?

  Frank stopped squeezing just enough for me to sing my solo.

  I’ve got a burning deep inside,

  but not from honor, truth, or pride.

  This current burning isn’t great

  because it came from what I ate.

  Everyone sang in chorus:

  Because it came from what he aaaaaaaate.

  Frank Porter squeezed me even harder. He picked me up, shook me around, and flung me to the ground. I could hear my insides bruising.

  The lights snapped off, and the curtains began to close. I caught a fleeting glimpse of the audience as I was lying there before the curtain shut. They looked moved, or stunned. I couldn’t tell which. With us all behind the curtain, Sister Heck began to play the interlude. I picked myself up and helped change the scenery. In a moment the place was transformed into what looked to be an old log cabin. Grace came onto the stage. Everyone moved off leaving her and me standing behind the closed curtain. Sister Heck was playing something soft and sweet.

  “Are you ready,” I asked Grace.

  “I think so.”

  “How was it so far?” I asked. Grace had been watching from the side.

  “It’s a moving script,” she joked.

  “That bad, huh?”

  I sat down on the edge of the bed now placed in the middle of the stage.

  “When I practiced this scene with Sister Watson, she sort of brushed my forehead and pretended to comfort me,” I explained. “But it might be best if you just kind of sat there near me.”

  Grace smiled as President Heck stepped out in front of the curtain and began introducing the next scene.

  “Sadly, Parley P. Pratt was extremely sick because of the ham,” President Heck recited. “He didn’t move for a week. He just laid in bed moaning. The town began to lose hope. Until one d
ay out of nowhere a woman wandered into town. Her name was Drusa. No one had seen her before, and no one knew where she had come from. But she was here, and she took it upon herself to nurse Parley back to health.”

  I laid down on the bed, and Grace took a seat in the chair next to it. The curtain opened, and the light shined down on her. I was pretty impressed. Grace’s red hair was tied back behind her head, her green eyes so strong that I’m certain those in the back row knew just what color they were.

  “Parley,” she lamented. “If only there was something I could do.”

  It was time for Grace to sing.

  The cast held their breath, except for Toby, who held his ears. I watched Grace as she opened her mouth. It was soft at first. In fact, I could see the entire five thousand lean in closer to get a better listen. But gradually it became strong and sure. Okay, so she was singing some of the dumbest lyrics I had ever heard, but with her voice she seemed to change the words into text worth tasting. It was beautiful, at least to me.

  I’m here to see your load is light

  To see you through this longest night.

  Through thick and thin, through poor or wealth,

  I bid you Parley go to health.

  When she finished her song, everyone just stared at her. There was a kind of hush all over the meadow. Finally, Pete turned off the lights and the curtains closed. Sister Heck began to play the between scenes music. The scenery started to move about. I stood up from the bed and looked at Grace. Toby took his hands off of his ears.

  “How was it?” he asked.

  “It was . . .” I began to say in amazement.

  “Places,” Elder Staples whispered. “Places.”

  Suddenly Elder Staples was pushing me around, and Toby grabbed Grace and started hooking her up to a wire harness. I wanted to brag about Grace’s singing a bit, but there was no time—this next scene was pretty crucial. It was to be the most visually spectacular scene of the entire production. It was where Parley gets better and Drusa is hoisted up like an angel on wires and appears to float while she sings. They had practiced it fifty times with Sister Watson. But it was all new to Grace.

  I could hear President Heck in front of the curtains.

  “Drusa saved Parley P. Pratt’s life. Her kindness and caring helped bring him back to full health. Thelma’s Way was blessed. Everyone thought that they had truly been visited by an angel. Heaven had opened its windows and dumped out Drusa. Sure, it turned out that she was actually just a midwife from one town over who had come here to get away from her unruly kids for a few days. Even so, her efforts were miraculous.”

  The curtains opened to expose Grace and me.

  “How can I ever thank you?” I said while staring intently at her eyes.

  Da, da, da, da, Sister Heck played loudly as the rest of the cast strode on stage singing and waving small sticks with tinsel glued to the ends of them.

  How can he ever thank you?

  What could he ever say?

  Where are the words to show you

  You really saved the day.

  Grace sang her lines as she began to be lifted up.

  We must be ever willing

  To help out our fellow man.

  We must replace, “I will not,”

  With the simple words, “I can.”

  I looked up at Grace as she began to ascend above us all. I could see Digby up on the platform trying to wind her up. As soon as she was midway she stopped. I looked at Digby, who was desperately trying to get her moving again. The wire had looped and knotted, leaving her stranded in the air. Those in the audience couldn’t tell that anything was wrong. People just figured this was part of the play. But all of us on stage knew full well that this was not what we had rehearsed. Grace was supposed to be lifted up, ending the scene. Digby tried to close the curtains but the knotted wire was binding the curtain pulley as well. All of us were stuck below Grace, faced with the fact that we were going to have to improvise.

  I was worried. This cast didn’t exactly break records for spontaneous thought—unless there was a record for least amount. It was too much for Frank; he just took off running. Those of us left began to sweat and wing it.

  “Parley, we thank you again for visiting,” Toby said nervously. “It’s not often we get someone like you that comes to visit us. It’s really neighborly of you to visit us all.”

  “And I thank you all for sharing your town with me,” I acted. “You have been the most sharing of towns. The Prophet would be happy with what you have done.”

  “What have we done?” Toby asked, confused.

  “You have helped me get better, and stuff,” I ad-libbed.

  “I hope we didn’t treat you too rough,” Toby said, feeling that our conversation was supposed to rhyme.

  We continued to act out pointless dialogue below the now-swinging Grace. The wind was beginning to really move her. I watched as she tried to remain composed up on the wire.

  I saw President Heck climb up the scaffolding to help Digby. Once up there, he began to yank and pound on the wire. Leo, realizing that our improv was going badly, decided to break out in song. He marched around us singing words even more nonsensical than the ones Sister Watson had written. CleeDee became embarrassed by what Leo was doing and tried to slip off stage unnoticed. Her slinking away finally let the audience know that something was wrong. For a minute they laughed, and then they seemed to remember that they were supposed to be entertained. A couple of hecklers began to holler out.

  Sybil Porter, who had been playing one of the extras on stage, raised her fist to the audience and taught them a couple of new words. The crowd began to boo. President Heck was still banging like crazy on the wire. I looked up and over at Pete sitting behind the light. I would have looked away, but I couldn’t help noticing him pull a small gun out from a tiny holster on his ankle.

  Pete aimed the gun at the wire.

  Before I could scream anything he fired, snapping the wire and grazing Digby’s left arm. Grace yelled as she fell on top of me. We both slammed down onto the stage and through the unnecessary trap door that Toby had insisted on building. Digby lost his balance and began to fall from the scaffolding. President Heck reached out to grab him but had to quickly steady himself by clinging onto the lights. Digby caught hold of the large net that was hidden above the stage and full of balloons for the finale. He ripped the net and swung down to the ground. Balloons whipped everywhere in the wind. President Heck followed after Digby, pulling the lights down and into the curtains. The lights exploded, and the curtains shot up in flames. The balloons caught on fire, flashing in the dark wind.

  The audience went crazy. I couldn’t see too much from beneath the stage, but I could hear sounds that both humans and chairs didn’t usually make. I could also tell that the entire stage was falling apart, cracking, and breaking all over as fire consumed the entire thing. Grace and I crawled out from under just seconds before. Pete jumped off his perch and into the meadow. People were running everywhere.

  It seemed as if everyone was heading for the path out of Thelma’s Way. The few trucks that had made it into town were tearing away. I lost Grace in the mess of it all. I spotted Sister Watson, who was shuffling around looking dazed and confused. Her wig was hanging to the side, covering her right ear. Her pageant had gone haywire. We had not even made it to the fifth act.

  President Heck grabbed me by the arm.

  “Are you okay?” he hollered.

  I looked around at the wild riot, not knowing if I could honestly answer yes.

  “We’ve got to get this fire out!” I yelled.

  Lit balloons were dropping all over. The crowd covered their heads in fear.

  Elder Staples came running up and into me. He had a couple of trash cans that had been over by the once-erect food tables. He dumped the trash out of them. We started a chain from the river to the stage, passing the trash cans back and fourth until the fire was finally out.

  By the time it had died down, the pla
ce was relatively deserted; not a single outsider had stayed around to help. Yes, a couple of the TV crews had remained to document the fire, but we sort of wished they hadn’t. The meadow was a complete disaster. Chairs were everywhere, as well as food and paper. The stage was burned to the ground. Sister Heck picked up a charred piece of the curtain and shook her head.

  “I don’t think this night will gain us any respect,” she hoarsely whispered.

  “I don’t know,” President Heck replied. “I think it depends on how the papers handle it.”

  “We’re ruined,” Sister Watson coughed. She handed back the now slightly singed Ace bandage to Toby.

  “I thought the small part of the play that actually got played was right neat,” Toby offered.

  “Yeah,” Leo agreed. “Real fancy.”

  Sister Watson just sat there crying as we all tried to tell her it would be okay. Of course, I don’t know that any of us actually believed it.

  36

  Smeared

  The papers murdered us. There was not a single kind thing said about the pageant or the tragedy. Words like pathetic, backwards, ridiculous, and incompetent were peppered throughout every report of the play. Sister Watson had wanted the world to attend; well the world had been there all right, and apparently they were sickened. I felt horrible. It was as if the entire planet was now in the business of putting down our town.

  The meadow was a pit. It took us a couple of days to get things picked up. Even then it still looked awful. We tried to clear away the remains of the stage, but the kids seemed to enjoy playing in the big pile of ashes, so we decided to leave it and let Mother Nature take her couse.

  The disaster had worked out well for Paul. According to him, he had been at home reading scriptures and praying that we all might be forgiven for not joining his religion and preventing him from being in the play when the tragedy struck. He went on and on about how sad it was that it took these acts of heaven to show us all how wrong we were.

  Sister Watson was probably the worst off. She felt personally responsible for it all. She seemed destined to live in an eternal funk until President Heck asked her if she would begin planning a Christmas play for the following year, stressing only that it be a little less elaborate than the last one. She went right to work setting up an agenda for the pre-planning meeting.