Grantville Gazette-Volume XI

by Eric Flint

  "It isn't just the contract with the Engle girl," Contz pointed out. "They have one with the OF Band, too."

  Von Reinhart's face changed a bit. Contz though he might be a little more worried, now. Just as well, Contz thought. The . . . well, fink, to use an up-time expression . . . had nipped his own production company in the bud, after all. Perhaps these girls would give him something to think about.

  * * *

  "So I finally get to cut a record?"

  "Yes, Els, you do," Judy said. "Have you picked out the song? Or songs, for that matter. You can get about six and a half minutes at sixty rpm. Not quite five minutes if we go to eighty."

  Els considered a moment. "I have listened to both. The sound quality is not that different. The eighty rpm records would be better for opera, but for my voice the sixty will do. It will mean I can record two songs on one record."

  * * *

  Heather nodded her head earnestly. "And that's why we think you should be recording. That way Mother Maybelle's heritage will never be lost."

  "And you'll pay us to sing for the record." Minnie wanted confirmation.

  "Absolutely," Heather said. "And royalties, once the sales have paid for the advance. Of course, it all depends on how many sell, but we're doing the stocking at the stores. The stores are mostly going to be taking the records on consignment, so we'll know how much of what sold."

  Bennie Pierce nodded. "Always was a crap shoot, the recording industry. No way to know but to try it."

  "Pretty much," Heather agreed.

  * * *

  "Here it is." Hayley shook her head mournfully. "Our first master. And it's a country song. Not even decent rock and roll."

  "Els thinks it will sell better," Heather said. "And I do, too. So, just shut up and soldier, Hayley."

  Hayley grimaced. "A country song. Shudder. Changed lyrics, and only Mr. Simmons playing the guitar for accompaniment. Yerg."

  "It's going to take some time to get things turned around," Judy noted. "But Els is going to sing it on the radio program tonight. She got the writers of Robin to agree to work it in. Free advertising. The changed lyrics had had a lot to do with that."

  Hayley grimaced again. "Yerg."

  * * *

  Tip's was quiet tonight. It usually was on Friday night, when it was time for Robin of the CoC to be broadcast on the Voice Of America. The crowd listened intently, as they usually did. The crowd at the Freedom Arches was doing the same thing. Robin was a popular show.

  This time, Robin was riding to the rescue of Maid Marie, who had been captured—again. She got captured fairly often. Which was understandable since her duties as an agent of the Committee of Correspondence took her to some dangerous places. While Robin of the CoC had started out as an adaptation of the Robin Hood stories, they were, of course, influenced by the famous Gretchen Richter and Jeff Higgins. Robin was a noble who had taken on the goals of the CoC and Marie was a farmer's daughter. With her parents safe again after the arrival of the Ring of Fire, she had joined the CoC. There she had met Robin and become his partner. In a number of important ways, Els' role was more akin to the Bill Cosby role in I Spy than to the average Maid Marian. In fact, she was often the rescuer, rather than the rescued.

  This time, while held by an evil ritter, she sang to the absent Robin, not knowing he was hidden just around the corner waiting his chance to set her free:

  "I don't believe in right of kings,

  good blood, bad blood, silly things.

  I don't believe in stories told

  of maidens weak and knights of old.

  That might is right and weak is wrong,

  or God's word can't be set in song.

  That life and love are some cruel jest,

  or some are simply born the best,

  But I believe in love.

  I believe in freedom.

  I believe tomorrow's hope,

  'Cause I believe in you."

  * * *

  The response was surprisingly fast for a world that mostly lacked telephone and telegraphs. The VOA was deluged with requests for the song. First from the area right around Grantville, then, as the days passed, from villages and towns all over the VOA's listening area.

  They had thought they were ready. Trommler Records had a lot of prints ready for shipping. They sold them in the first three days. Eventually, it became the first gold record in the new history by passing the half million records mark without even slowing to look as it passed. It took some time to pass that milestone, mostly because of the time it took to stamp the records.

  Of course, by then the Barbie Consortium had run off to Vienna, leaving Els' career in the capable hands of the Gertrude Schmidt Talent Agency. Sometimes called "Gerty's T&A" because of the large number of young ladies it had signed, it was listed as GSTA on the Grantville exchange. The Barbie Consortium, as might be expected, owned a fair chunk of that stock. Trommler Records was left with a down-timer merchant as the CEO and Els' Uncle Heinrich as the vice president of the Entertainment Division. Herr Trommler was now VP of News and Education.

  * * *

  Jost von Reinhart was not a happy camper. He had a fair number of singers under contract but since Els Engle's hit, the label of choice for aspiring artists was Trommler. Old Folk's songs, while not selling quite so well, were selling, and so were recordings from the new talents TR had signed. Even the silly speeches were selling better.

  Fuming, he pushed the button to call for the next course. He was already in a foul mood. That mood was not improved when the butler carried in the next course. Whistling. That song.

  CONTINUING SERIALS

  Stretching Out, Part One:

  Second Starts

  Written by Iver P. Cooper

  Grantville, May 2, 1632

  "Race time ten minutes," blared the speaker. The murmur of the fairground crowd rose, and then subsided.

  "I can't believe you talked me into this," Maria Vorst said. Maria had come to Grantville with her brother Adolph, the curator of the Leiden Botanical Gardens, and a member of the faculty of medicine. They had visited Grantville's greenhouses, and Adolph had met with Doctor Nichols and Doctor Adams. Adolph had returned to Leiden; he had classes to teach and meetings to attend. Maria had stayed in Grantville to study botany and gardening.

  Her partner, Lolly Aossey, waved to some of her middle school students. Lolly was their science teacher. She was also a girl scout leader and a gardener. Maria was boarding with her.

  "Good luck, Ms. Aossey!" they chorused.

  "Thanks, kids!" Lolly turned to Maria. "Don't worry, Buffalo Creek is about as gentle a river as you are going to find anywhere."

  "There's that drop," said Maria doubtfully.

  "Oh, that? Two feet, maybe three. Now, if we were running Schwarza Falls, upriver, you'd get some real action."

  "Buffalo Creek is more than enough for me, today."

  "Wait until you take my whitewater kayaking classes. Then you'll look forward to a fifteen footer." Lolly taught canoeing, climbing, spelunking and other wilderness skills at the Girl Scout's outdoor adventure camp each summer.

  Someone bugled the traditional horse racing "first call." Lolly and Maria stood on either side of the middle of their canoe.

  "Welcome, folks, to the fifth running of the Great Buffalo Canoe Race. Sorry we missed last year, but we didn't expect to enter a time warp.

  "Contestants, line up according to your entry number. The first team will start at the sound of the starting gun. After that, the teams will enter the water at one minute intervals. Sorry you can't all start at once, but the creek's a wee bit too narrow for that. We will call you by number.

  "Each team must start on the bank, at the starting line. Getting your canoe into the water, and yourselves into the canoe, is part of the fun.

  "When you come to a drop, you can portage, but you must carry the boat and get back on board without outside assistance.

  "Friends, don't forget that one of our sponsors is Thuringen
Gardens. Show them you appreciate their support of this event. Of course, if you're a contestant, you might want to wait until after the race.

  "All rise for 'The Star-Spangled Banner.'" The middle school chorus sang the anthem. The ceremonial marshal, standing on the footbridge, waved his staff.

  That was the announcer's cue. "Team One, on your mark, get set. . . ." The starter fired his gun. "Go!" The Baker twins, Billy Joe and Jim Bob, grabbed the gunwales of their canoe and ran with it to the bank. One jumped down, painter in hand, and started pulling, while the other went to the stern and pushed. The canoe lurched down the bank, and the canoeists slid it into the water.

  "Team Two!" The second pair, Walt Jenkins and his apprentice barber, Erhard Matz, headed to the water. The Germans in the audience cheered.

  "Team Three! Hey, it's a brother and sister team, Phil and Laurel Jenkins. Try not to kill each other."

  "Team Four!" That was the cue for Phil's friends, Larry and Gary Rose. They were carrying a garishly painted Chestnut Prospector.

  "Team Five!" That was Lewis and Marina Bartolli. Their parents owned Bartolli's Surplus and Outdoor Supplies, so they had a real racing hull, an eighteen foot long, 3x27 pro boat. "Buy Bartolli's" was painted on both sides.

  "Ouch," said Lolly.

  Maria flinched. "What's wrong?"

  "Oh, look at that canoe. The longer the boat, the faster it can go in the water."

  "Ouch, indeed."

  "On the other hand, it's a pain in the butt to carry, it turns slowly, and I have my doubts as to how well it will do in whitewater."

  "Team Six!" Phil Gerard and "Ikey" Pridmore were upholding the honor of Grantville Sporting Goods, the Bartolli's main competitor. They, too, had a USCA competition cruiser. "Go, Grantville Sporting Goods!" they shouted in unison, and picked up their canoe.

  More teams followed. Finally, it was Lolly and Maria's turn. They walked a bit further than the others, in order to go down to the river where the going was easier. The time they lost up on the bank was regained when they descended rapidly and safely to the water. Lolly held their canoe, a fourteen foot Mad River Synergy, pointing upstream, and Maria swung herself into the bow position. Then Lolly jumped into the stern, and they came about and edged their way into the main current.

  Seeing all the other canoes in the river ahead of them was discouraging, but they knew that contestants' actual running times would determine their placement.

  "Buffalo Creek's a bit woollier than it used to be," Lolly remarked. "Faster and deeper. The water from the Upper Schwarza tumbles a few hundred feet down the southwest ring wall, rushes into the Spring Branch and then into the Creek. Which is a real river, nowadays."

  A couple of strokes later, Maria did a double-take. "Wait a moment, you said it was gentle."

  "A gentle river. Just not a creek anymore."

  Walt and Erhard's canoe entered the Hough Park loop; staying on the inside.

  "Bad choice," said Lolly. "That may shorten the distance, but the current is strongest on the outside of a curve." The wind carried her voice forward. Maria nodded.

  "But you don't want to get too close to the outer bank. That's where the erosion is greatest, and so you tend get fallen trees there. We call 'em strainers, 'cause they let water through but trap boaters."

  The canoes passed under Hough Street bridge. Its pilings acted a bit like a "rock garden" on a wild river, creating little eddies. But they were easily avoided.

  A few minutes later, the contestants were approaching the mouth of Dent's Fork, on river left.

  "Be careful here, Maria. If you look closely, you'll see the shear line, where the waters merge. Stay away from it."

  The pack swept past Dent's Fork, and under the Clarksburg Street bridge. The bridge was packed with spectators. Maria couldn't help but wonder whether some poor soul would fall off and have to be rescued.

  High Street Bridge. Lolly and Maria were fourth from the lead, at this point. Pretty good, considering that they had started last. Phil and Laurel Jenkins were in the boat ahead of them.

  A ninety degree turn. Now they were heading east southeast. This was a long straightaway, and it gave a bit of an edge to the longer canoes.

  Route 11 Bridge. More onlookers. Another ninety degree turn, bringing them into a nearly southerly course.

  High up on the bank, they saw the sign, "Leaving Grantville."

  Some minutes later, they were approaching Rainbow Plaza. The crowd assembled there yelled encouragement (and an occasional jeer).

  The high school was the next major landmark, and it signaled that they were approaching the wilder part of the river.

  Now came the Drop. This was a broad ledge, two feet high, extending the full width of the river. A large crowd stood nearby, on the low bank. It was a popular vantage point, since the spectators got to see how the contestants would handle the drop.

  Walt and Erhard took the easy way out. They ferried over to the side, where the current was weakest. They clambered out, holding their canoe in place, and then walked it over the Drop.

  Phil and Laurel paddled up close to the ledge, then set their paddles down, grabbed both bulwarks tightly, and braced themselves. The water carried then to the brink, where they teetered, and then crashed into the foam below, with a teeth-jarring crash. But they were upright, and more or less dry, at least.

  Billy Joe and Jim Bob tried to copy this move, but with both hands raised in the air, like thrill seekers on a roller coaster. That wasn't a good idea. Their boat rolled to port, and without paddles, there wasn't much they could do to stop it. In a moment, they were taking a swim.

  "Count the fish!" a spectator yelled. They righted their canoe and pulled themselves back in. With grim expressions, they resumed paddling downstream.

  Lolly and Maria's canoe neared the Drop. As it did so, they increased the power of their strokes, accelerating. As her toes came even with the lip of the drop, Maria planted her paddle where the green water met the white, like an Olympic pole vaulter preparing to jump. She pulled back on the paddle, bringing it past her hips. Lolly's paddle struck the water at the same time and grabbed more water, adding to their forward momentum.

  Their canoe went airborne, traveling several feet, over the boil where the waters fell, before pancaking in the quiet water further downstream.

  Phil Jenkins had turned his head back a moment earlier to see what was happening behind him, and had watched the whole boof. "Wow," said Phil. "Who's the pretty girl with Ms. Aossey?" Maria was blond and blue-eyed, which was very definitely Phil's "type."

  He had also stopped paddling, and the boat had veered a bit. "Keep your mind on your oarwork," Laurel snapped.

  Larry and Gary Rose, battling to catch up with Lolly and Maria, were also impressed. "How are we going to top that?" said Larry. "It's not like we're going to win the race, so we have to find some way to impress the girls."

  "I dunno. Maybe we can strike a pose?" Gary said sarcastically. "How about we just finish the race?"

  "Great idea! Let's strike a pose," Larry said, ignoring his brother's obvious dismay. "The girls will love it. When we're almost at the Drop, back paddle to hold us there. This'll be spectacular."

  It was. Although not perhaps the way Larry had in mind.

  Gary held the boat against the current, so it jutted out over the Drop. Larry, in the front seat, set his paddle down, and shook his fists in the air. The crowd roared appropriately.

  "Bring us back a little, Gary," Larry ordered. Now lean back, and keep paddling." Gary groaned, but complied. Larry slowly rose up from his seat, extending his arms for balance. The boat trembled as Gary fought the rush of the water. Larry was standing now, and brought his hands together, like a prizefighter after a K.O.

  "Can we go yet?" said Gary, through gritted teeth.

  "A moment more. I can see someone adjusting a camera."

  An inquisitive wasp buzzed Gary's head, and he lost control as he tried to keep an eye on it. With a great lurch, the boat toppled.
It first penciled down, throwing Larry into the water, and then its butt dropped with a great thud. Since the falling water had carved a deeper hole at the base of the ledge, this in turn caused the prow to seesaw upward. At some point, Gary also lost his seating, and joined his partner in the drink. The boat bobbed downstream as the Rose boys scrambled, sputtering droplets, out of their little bubble bath.

  "So, did we impress the girls yet?" asked Gary.

  * * *

  "That was fun!" said Maria. "I'm glad we did those practice runs, though. I would hate to mess up in front of a crowd like this."

  "Practice makes perfect," Lolly acknowledged.