Grantville Gazette Volume 25

by editor Paula Goodlett

  "Anyway, since Mariah got back, she's been paying her expenses by checking out sites for the silo corporation, but she's restless. I expect she'd enjoy a summer tour with a theater group."

  Würzburg

  A manuscript version of Franconia! arrived in Würzburg less than a week after Philip Massinger finished his modification to the Quiney brothers' version of Grantville's spring play. His portions, too, Zacharias Schaupp translated. Georg Rudolf Weckherlin received it with the incoming mail, opened it, and was lost to useful work for the rest of the morning. When Steve Salatto and Anita Masaniello got back from an important, and protracted, meeting with the cathedral chapter, they stopped for a minute in the anteroom, frowning.

  "What is that?" Steve asked. "He's whistling?"

  They stood for a couple of minutes more.

  "'Everything's up to date in Kansas City,' I think." Anita wrinkled her brow. " Where did Weckherlin ever hear or see Oklahoma!?"

  "Nowhere." Steve barged on into the outer office over which Georg Rudolf Weckherlin presided. "What's that?"

  Weckherlin looked up and grinned. "Ah. A splendid new satire. Franconia!, it's called. Marvelous. These songwriters have you Grantvillers pegged. Skewered, even."

  Jetzt ist alles ganz modern in Grantville.

  "It laughs about your Frau Higgins and her enormous modern hotel. Grantville had no such building before the Ring of Fire. Nothing even approaching it. No, this great modern up-time town had to come back to the seventeenth century in order to build itself a 'skyscraper several stories high.'"

  "That was 'seven stories high,'" Anita commented absently. "And it was Kansas City, not Grantville, where everything was up to date. What on earth do you have there?"

  That shot the afternoon for all three of them.

  "Damndest thing I ever came across," Steve proclaimed. "Look, 'Hard Times' wasn't in Oklahoma! It wasn't by Bob Dylan, either. Maybe he recorded it, but it's Stephen Foster. You know, the 'Old Kentucky Home' guy—that song they sing—sang—will sing—before the Kentucky Derby. Like 'Maryland, My Maryland,' before the Preakness."

  This required some explanation.

  "It's not 'Maryland, My Maryland,' really," Anita pointed out. "It's, 'O, Christmas Tree' and that's 'O Tannenbaum,' and that was German to start with."

  "We're way off the point."

  "Which is?" Weckherlin's smile was more than a little sardonic.

  "What have these guys—the Quineys and Massinger—done? I've seen that movie. There wasn't a single place in it where the cast was standing around waiting for William Jennings Bryan to come into town and make a speech. Singing 'Hard Times Come Again No More.' Stephen Foster lived way back when. Back before the Civil War, I think. That has to be a hundred fifty years before Dylan recorded it. This is just a . . . a . . . a mish-mash."

  "In many ways the plot is wondrously rational for a comedy. No identical twins separated at birth. Not a single pretty maid disguised as her mistress. No cases of mistaken identity leading to quite incoherent consequences. Not to mention," Weckherlin added rather dryly, "that it incorporates quite a large number of bits and pieces out of propaganda pamphlets associated with the Ram Rebellion into Bryan's speech once he makes his triumphant arrival upon the new railroad. I've seen other plays by Massinger in London. Can we assume that he wanted to play a considerably more prominent part in this . . . project . . . than was available for a man of middling years in the original version."

  "Probably." Anita frowned. "There was an older man in the movie who had some dialogue with Aunt Eller, but he sure wasn't a starring role. Do you remember who it was, Steve?"

  "Naw. Skinny guy, I do remember that. Which probably means that he didn't make much of an impression on me. It was the two of them, the scrawny guy and Aunt Eller, that sang about how the cowboys and farmers ought to be friends, wasn't it?"

  "Is that in here?"

  "Yes." Weckherlin flipped through several pages. "Here. With a nice scene in which Laurey's aunt shoots a gun to stop the fight. And she's 'Aunt Gretchen,' not 'Aunt Eller.""

  Lass' die Ritter und die Bauern Freunde sein.

  "Not a bad idea." Steve grinned. "Let the knights and the peasants be friends. I'll support that sentiment all the way."

  Weckherlin caroled the end of the refrain:

  Es gibt kein' Grund dass sie nicht Freunden seien.

  "Um. I think there was probably some reason why they couldn't be friends." Anita raised her eyebrows at her husband. "They sang that just before the big fight at the square dance, didn't they?"

  "Fakest fight I ever saw on screen."

  "Be reasonable, Steve. It was a musical comedy, not method acting."

  "Still the fakest fight I ever saw. I could have lived with the silly ballet, but that stupid fight . . ."

  "What ballet? There is no ballet in this." Weckherlin's voice conveyed certainty.

  "They probably don't have a cast who can dance ballet. I'm sure they don't have a cast who can dance ballet, in fact. Only Bitty Matowski does. They must have just left it out."

  Anita and Steve started to dissect the manuscript on the basis of what had been omitted and what had been inserted.

  "Another thing I'm absolutely sure of," Anita Masaniello said firmly. "No way did Rogers and Hammerstein write 'Is Your Harp Upon the Willow?' That's bluegrass, and it definitely didn't lead into the finale of Oklahoma!" She sang a few lines.

  "Franconia isn't exactly Oklahoma," Weckherlin answered. "Nor is it ever likely to be."

  "How do they sing 'Franconia' to 'Oklahoma' anyway? The rhythm's different."

  "The Latin form is only for the title. See. In the song, they sing, 'Franken, Franken,' doubling up the name of the territory. Which is not Oklahoma, clearly. Just to start, it has no plains for the wind to sweep down."

  "Which could explain why they left that part out of the translation. Where's the wind sweeping from in this . . . tour de force?"

  "The Thüringerwald, of course. From Thuringia, into our 'brand new state.'"

  Würzburg, June 1634

  "Where did the railroad car come from?" Tania Haun asked over the sounds made by five children under ten, two teenaged boys, and one adult male eating as fast as they could.

  Mike Mundell put his spoon down and swallowed. His mom was just death on talking with your mouth full. "Well, Massinger put in the presidential candidate giving the speech. Then it came to me. Something back in eighth grade civics. We saw a documentary with a lot of old newsreel in it, about someone running for president on a train. 'Whistle Stop Campaign?' I think that was it."

  "I wonder how long the middle school has had that documentary. We saw it in eighth grade, too, and I've got to be twenty years older than you are. Truman, was it? Or wasn't it?"

  "What did you think of the rehearsal yesterday?" Zacharias Schaupp asked a little anxiously.

  "It was okay," Johnnie F. said around the last bite of his breakfast. Mike and Zach were staying with him and Tania while the traveling actors were in Würzburg. Frau Massinger had been more than happy when the "American colony" offered to board most of the Grantville kids, up-time and down-time alike. First, it meant that she did not have to supervise them. Second, it saved a lot of money.

  Mike disposed of another mouthful of rye bread. "Why just 'okay'? Tom and Dick worked hard on this thing. So did Zach. And Mr. Massinger."

  "Well, there's something missing. I was on stage crew for Oklahoma! back when I was in high school myself and I'm darn sure that Laurey wasn't a shepherdess."

  "Well, Mr. Massinger says that here, down-time, people who come to see the play need to know right away that the girl the hero is in love with is all right. You know, pretty and virtuous. And shepherdesses are automatically pretty and virtuous. In poems and plays. Not in real life, but that doesn't count. Besides, he wanted to use that stupid 'Lady of the Lambs' poem he found in the library and have it set to music. So Ludovic, being Curly, stands there and sings at her:

  She walks—the lady of my
delight—

  A shepherdess of sheep.

  Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white;

  She guards them from the steep.

  She feeds them on the fragrant height,

  And folds them in for sleep.

  "Barbara can't act for sour shit. She just stands there in the middle of the stage looking cute, so he needed something to make it clear to the audience right off that she was one of the good guys. Of course, Mrs. Massinger—she spent a lot of time volunteering at the high school last semester—went, 'Gag me.'"

  "So did Anita after the rehearsal last night. Maybe it'll catch on with the Ram Rebellion people. But Laurey and her aunt were farmers. I remember that much. Maybe Massinger could write the aunt as being the Ewe instead of Gretchen. Or the Ewe in addition to Gretchen . . ."

  Johnnie F. worried the idea around in the back of his mind all day and started in on it again at supper. "I guess a shepherdess is okay. Bo-Peep and all that. Mary's little lamb. But still, farmers are more important. Back when I was in college, we learned this song . . ." Johnnie F. started to whistle.

  "That's sorta catchy."

  "Yeah. But it's the words that were really good. Lemme think . . . It went all the way back to the Grange movement, maybe. I'm not so sure that I remember all the words."

  "Can you give me just a general sort of idea? It's not as if Mr. Massinger's exactly short on words, and he'll have to put them into German anyway."

  "Sort of. Lemme think . . ." Johnnie F. rapped the words out with a fair rhythm but not much in the way of a tune.

  The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man,

  Lives on credit 'til the fall.

  Then they take him by the hand, and they lead him off the land,

  And the middle man's the man who gets it all.

  "Oh, gosh, Johnnie F. We've got to do that one. It'll be easy. Der Bauer ist der Mann, der Bauer ist der Mann . . . 'Hand' rhymes with 'land' in German, too."

  "Sounds to me like they're exactly the same words. That's the refrain. The first verse is something like this,"

  The farmer comes to town with his wagon broken down,

  But the farmer is the man who feeds them all.

  If you'll only look and see, I think you will agree

  That the farmer is the man who feeds them all.

  His pants are wearing thin. His condition is a sin.

  They've forgot that he's the man who feeds them all.

  "There's all sorts of 'thems' who've done the forgetting in the rest of the verses. Bankers and preachers and merchants and butchers and cooks. There's a whole bunch of verses."

  Mike jumped up. "Hey, Tania. Can I take Johnnie F. downtown to the inn where the Massingers are staying? Right now? Mr. Massinger's got to hear this. Right away."

  "It's almost dark."

  "But if Mr. Massinger starts tonight, we can have the song in the play tomorrow. That's the way these actors work. None of that nonsense about having a printed script in front of you and memorizing the lines just exactly. They carry a lot of it in their heads. Improvise. Though a lot of the time," Mike admitted honestly enough, "that's because I've messed up something with the props. I was just assistant stage manager for Oklahoma! Billy Stull was the stage manager. He wanted to come, but his dad thought he'd be better off staying in Grantville and taking trig in summer school. Mom and Dad didn't mind if I came, especially since Zach was coming anyway. Plus, Billy's grandma wasn't very pleased with the idea that he might go off with a touring company of actors, even for the summer. You know Mrs. Hudson, don't you?"

  "Oh, sure," Johnnie F. said. "I know Vera and Willie Ray. Willie Ray's an okay guy."

  * * *

  The Massingers were staying with the Weckherlins, having a prior acquaintance with Steve Salatto's "office dragon" and his English wife, who was the daughter of the Dover city clerk.

  "Just a few more changes to the script, Philip" Weckherlin suggested during breakfast. "By the way, I'm sorry it's porridge again."

  "Cheerful looks make every dish a feast, and it is that which crowns a welcome. Truly, without good company all dainties lose their true relish, and like painted grapes, are only seen, not tasted. You were saying?"

  "Much of the pastiche is a bit sophomoric. Especially the jokes."

  "This is understandable—and forgivable—given that those who produced it, with the exception of my own additions, were almost all high school sophomores."

  "Will is an obvious, traditionally comedic, character. I see no problems with your using him as the boys wrote him. Jud fits much less easily into a comedy. Though this is scarce a comedy, nor yet a tragedy. Jud fits very uneasily into a satire intended to show peasants as the heroes. Nonetheless, if we leave him out of this one, there is even less for Laurey to say and do. And for a full stage production, to display Curly as a protector of the innocent heroine, we need a villain . . . Almost, he needs a play of his own, a true tragedy, if one could conceive of a crude hireling as a tragic figure. The mere challenge of writing a tragedy whose central figure is not of high station at the beginning is daunting. Could one, and still have the outcome be tragic?"

  Weckherlin closed his mouth and whipped his wandering thoughts back into order. "In any case. Almost anyone who reads for pleasure understands 'westerns' by now. They are very popular. Let the Reichsritter represent the arrogant cattlemen. If you use this song for a meeting between conservative members of the Bamberg city council and several deposed imperial knights who do hold the opinion that the Ram movement is a scandal—an outrage . . . Es ist furchtbar! Es ist scheusslich!

  "Truly, with a bit of 'massaging,' it could reach a more elite audience. Become a staple of your repertoire rather than just an interesting novelty. Perhaps we could contact Melchior Franck in Coburg. Surely he has a few students who could harmonize the original music into an opera score that is more in accord to contemporary taste. I am myself particularly charmed by 'Ado Annie.' I have indeed already, since observing the rehearsal last evening, composed some suggested modifications to her most important song, making the German translations of the verses a bit more sophisticated than your Zacharias Schaupp managed, adding some internal rhymes . . . If you would be interested . . ." He sang, a little raspily, "'Ich bin ein' Magd, die nie "nein" sagt.' Meyfarth in Bamberg, once your players get there, can also probably improve somewhat on young Schaupp's German verses . . ."

  "I understand Ado Annie's appeal for you, Georg. A girl who 'cain't say no' must unquestionably attract the author of 'Seduction in the Garden, or Love Among the Cabbages.'"

  "More seriously, though. Franconia has already voted to merge with Thuringia and become a state within the USE. Once Gustavus Adolphus finishes the summer's campaigning, though, he will be faced with how to handle his conquests. Now, these lines . . ." Weckherlin picked up the manuscript. "Where the singer admonishes the people that when the territory joins the union and becomes a state, those of all ranks and callings must 'behave themselves and act like brothers.' Perhaps . . ."

  "Yes, of course you are right. Those verses lend themselves beautifully to an expansion of William Jennings Bryan's speech. Ah . . . of course, at present Antonia is singing them. She wouldn't be particularly pleased if I took them. Particularly not since my singing voice leaves much to be desired."

  "You could speak them. Right after Bryan's attack on corruption. 'Petitions, not sweetened with gold, are but unsavory and oft refused; or, if received, are pocketed, not read.' Then she, as the lead among the women in the audience, could repeat them and break into the chorus . . . I must find some better German than young Schaupp came up with for rhyming 'pals' with 'gals.' How do you intend to handle the sometimes rather harsh criticism of the emperor?"

  Massinger cocked his head. "'Detraction's a bold monster, and fears not to wound the fame of princes, if it find but any blemish in their lives to work on.' I'm sure that I can find some suitable approach." He turned to his older apprentice. "Dick, a suitable line, if you will."


  Dick Quiney stood up and declaimed.

  Great men,

  Till they have gained their ends, are giants in

  Their promises, but, those obtained, weak pigmies

  In their performance. And it is a maxim

  Allowed among them, so they may deceive,

  They may swear anything.

  Weckherlin nodded his agreement. "True. 'Put not your trust in princes.' God said so himself. The proverb runs that, 'ambition, in a private man a vice, is in a prince a virtue.' We admonish that 'he that would govern others, first should be the master of himself,' yet we also say that 'the desire of fame is the last weakness wise men put off.' Or even, often enough, men less wise. So. What do you—we—say of those Nicodemites who privately agree that there is a need for change, but are too cautious to give those changes their public support?"

  Massinger turned his head in the other direction. "Tom?"

  Tom hopped up next to his brother.

  Factions among yourselves; preferring such

  To offices and honors, as ne'er read

  The elements of saving policy;

  But deeply skilled in all the principles

  That usher to destruction.

  "Apropos. Very apropos." From Master Massinger, that was an accolade. Dick and Tom accepted it as such.

  * * *

  "We did, in fact, perform it in Grantville before we left. Once, in the auditorium at the Middle School since the high school auditorium is booked well in advance all the time. So the advertisements are perfectly true." Antonia Massinger laughed.

  "It was an inspiration to take 'Many a New Day' away from Laurey and give it to Ado Annie. Mariah does a much better job with it. Gives it some bite." Anita Masaniello was perched backstage on an upturned salted herring keg.