Ella of All-of-a-Kind Family Page 4

  Ella halted abruptly, a look of pain crossing her face. “What did I do wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s not you! You were good—very good! It’s that dog.”

  “Dog?” Ella repeated.

  “You mean you didn’t hear him?” her teacher exclaimed.

  “No. I was so busy trying to sing correctly, I didn’t hear anything.”

  “My God! Every time you hit a high note, the dog howled. If you own a dog, do you have to allow him to sit right outside the door when I’m giving a lesson?”

  “But Professor,” Ella put in timidly, “we don’t own a dog.”

  “You’re telling me I don’t know what I hear?” snapped the professor. “I’ll prove it to you. Sing me a high C.”

  Ella did as she was told and sure enough this time she heard it too—an unmistakable mournful howl.

  “It must be Prince, the Healys’ dog. They live downstairs,” Ella explained apologetically.

  She opened the parlor door just in time to see Prince scampering down the stairs with Charlie. “Charlie!” Ella called after him. Too late! Boy and dog had disappeared.

  “That Charlie! Will I give it to him,” she muttered.

  “Well, it’s already late,” the professor announced. “We finish for today. Practice your scales, and remember—next time, please, no dog!”

  By the time Ella came into the dining room, the table had already been cleared. Papa, puffing away at his pipe, was seated as usual in the morris chair, immersed in his newspaper. Charlie was curled up on the leather couch, a finger moving slowly across the page of a primer as he mouthed the words.

  “Charlie, I’m very angry at you! Why did you do it?”

  Ella had shouted so loudly, it brought Mama, Henny, and Sarah in from the kitchen.

  “What happened?” Mama asked.

  “You know what he did? He brought Prince up here and put him by the parlor door so he would set up a howl every time I tried to sing.” Ella turned on the little boy. “You know very well I’m not to be disturbed when I’m taking a lesson. Professor Calvano was so annoyed, he left in a huff!”

  “But I didn’t bring him up,” Charlie protested. “Honest, Ella, he came up by himself.”

  “The door downstairs must have been open again,” Mama suggested.

  “I heard him sniffling about,” Charlie continued, “so I went out and that’s when I found him standing by the parlor door. You know, Ella, he was singing! He was having such a good time, I couldn’t chase him away.”

  Gertie giggled. “Prince was taking a lesson from the professor.”

  “And for free, too,” added Henny.

  “I wonder why they don’t write music for a talented dog,” Charlotte remarked.

  Everyone laughed. Papa shook his head. “There goes my daughter Charlotte again with her imagination.”

  “I think Prince was real good,” Charlie said. “Maybe not as good as you, Ella.”

  “Thanks,” Ella replied. “That’s what I call a real compliment.” But she couldn’t resist a smile amid the general merriment.

  “Well, it better not happen again,” she warned. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Healy to keep Prince downstairs—at least on my lesson night. Professor Calvano won’t stand for it.”

  Mama waved a hand. “Enough already. Henny and Sarah, finish washing the dishes. Ella, sit down and eat. You must be hungry.”

  “I’m starved!”

  “Oh, by the way, I almost forgot. A letter came for you today.” Mama rummaged in her apron pocket. “It’s from Cousin Nathan.”

  “Cousin Nathan? Why should he be writing to me?”

  Henny peered over Ella’s shoulder. “Let’s read the letter and find out.”

  “Henny, please!” Ella clasped the letter to her chest. “It just might happen to be personal.”

  Henny flipped the dish towel. “Personal! Hah!”

  “I can hardly recall what Cousin Nathan looks like,” Sarah remarked. “But I do remember that he played the violin like a dream. How long is it since he went to live in Albany, Mama?”

  “I’d say about five years, Sarah. He runs a very successful music school there.”

  “Oh, listen to this, everybody!” Ella burst out. She read aloud:

  Dear Cousin Ella,

  Last week I happened to meet Professor Calvano and he told me what wonderful progress you were making. Our Community Center here is planning a concert for the first Sunday afternoon in April and I was wondering if you’d like to take part in it. It would mean singing three or four numbers. They’d pay you $10.00 and also your travel expenses.

  If you decide to come, you could take the Albany night boat on Saturday evening. That would bring you here in time for rehearsal Sunday morning.

  You will have to stay over in Albany Sunday night but that is no problem. You will be put up in the same boardinghouse where I live. My landlady runs a very clean and comfortable place and she says she’d be more than happy to accommodate you.

  Let me know if you can come. You’ll have a fine time. There’ll be a party and a dance after the concert.

  Remember me to your father and mother, to all your sisters and little brother.

  Your loving cousin,

  Nathan

  P.S. By the way, if you have a nice photograph of yourself, please send it right away. We’ll need it for publicity.

  Ella stared down at the letter. “Can you imagine that Professor Calvano! He never even mentioned a word to me!”

  “It’s marvelous!” exclaimed Charlotte. “Imagine singing in a regular concert!”

  “It’s just a small local affair,” Ella said, but her eyes sparkled.

  “It’s certainly nice of Nathan to ask you,” Mama observed.

  “And why shouldn’t he ask her?” Papa exclaimed. “If your own family won’t do anything for you, who will?”

  “Are you lucky!” Henny cried. “Nobody in this family ever gets to go anywhere. Now here you are, traveling all the way up to the state capital! Why don’t you find out if they need a dancer so I can go along?” Cocking her head to one side, she added teasingly, “By the way, what’s your boyfriend going to say about your running off for the weekend?”

  Two little flags of pink appeared on Ella’s cheeks. “He’ll be proud as can be,” she flashed back. But for a moment her joy was clouded over. I won’t be able to see Jules for almost the whole weekend! If only he could come along …

  She folded the letter and put it back into its envelope. “I’ll answer it right after I eat.”

  Mama rushed to the stove. “Here we’ve been so busy talking and you haven’t had a bite to eat yet.”

  5

  Albany Dream

  A final roaring blast and the Albany night boat slid slowly away from the dock. Pressed tight against the rail, amid the crowd of passengers, Ella kept fluttering her handkerchief in farewell to Jules and her family.

  Everyone seemed to be spilling over with joy for her, everyone, that is, but Jules. There was something about his manner, as if he resented her departure. Why should he be upset? she wondered. She’d only be away for the weekend.

  Gradually the boat picked up speed. Soon the figures of all her dear ones diminished and disappeared into the distance. Still she lingered, till all was melted into the darkness.

  Later, in her tiny cabin, she started to unpack her night things. The gentle rolling of the boat was not unpleasant—the steady pulse of the engines, the creaking of wood. But what was this other sound? Singing? She listened intently. It was singing! Where was it coming from? She must find out.

  She made her way upstairs to the main deck, the singing growing more distinct with every step. They were men’s voices, singing in perfect harmony. A professional group? They certainly sounded like it.

  The salon was thronged with passengers. Ella edged her way through, and her amazed eyes fell upon a group of porters, wearing uniforms of red caps and white jackets. Standing in a neat row, they were singing a familiar spiritua
l in rich, resonant voices. She moved in closer. She couldn’t resist singing along softly.

  One of the basses smiled at the sound of her voice and beckoned to her to join in.

  Ella needed no second invitation. As if of its own accord, her mouth opened and her clear soprano soared forth.

  The porters eyed one another in approval and opened rank to make room for her. The audience, delighted by this unexpected turn, craned their necks the better to see this small young girl whose pure high voice mingled so enchantingly with the male voices.

  The song’s end brought a round of applause. “My, such a lovely voice!” people were exclaiming. “So powerful too! Where does it come from? She’s so tiny.”

  Flushing with pleasure, Ella felt nonetheless a bit uneasy. Had she stolen the limelight? She started apologizing. “I really didn’t mean to barge in. But it was so hard to resist. You’re all so wonderful!”

  “Thank you, miss,” the man who seemed to be the leader replied. “You’re pretty wonderful yourself.”

  “That’s the way it is if you’re a singer,” one of the other porters said. “You just gotta sing along. Do you know ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good! It’s our next number.”

  Song followed song with the audience in rapt attention. Ella was in seventh heaven. How like a miracle it was to be suddenly made part of such a magnificent choir!

  “Well, folks, there’s time for just one more number,” the leader announced. He took off his hat and held it out invitingly as he made his way through the audience.

  The final song was being sung as hands dug into pockets and handbags. And as the coins fell clinking into the hat, the singing speeded up and the smiles on the singers’ faces grew wider and wider.

  “That’s all, folks. Thank you kindly.”

  The porters doffed their hats in unison and bowed.

  The crowd was beginning to disperse when Ella felt a tap on her shoulder. “Just a minute, miss. We have decided,” the leader said, “that since you were part of our performance tonight, you share in the pot.”

  “Oh no,” Ella protested. “It’s very generous, but really I couldn’t! I had such a marvelous time, I ought to pay you for allowing me to join in.”

  “Well, if that’s the way you want it. But it was a great pleasure.”

  “With that kind of an arrangement,” one of the other porters joked, “you’re welcome anytime—anytime at all.”

  Ella laughed heartily. “I’ll have to think it over. Good night to you all.”

  She strolled out of the salon onto the open deck. Faces turned toward her with such open admiration, it made her feel as if she were walking on air.

  The wind whipped by, flapping her coat against her ankles. She pushed forward, inhaling deeply the strong steady stream of air. Grasping hold of the rail, she stood still a moment, feeling suddenly very much alone in the immensity of sky and water expanding before her. Along the darkened far-off shore loomed the cliffs of the Palisades dotted here and there with a twinkle of light. She thought of the legend of the little people who inhabited this shadowed valley, and the game of bowls they had played with Rip Van Winkle. Tomorrow morning, she too would waken to another world—just like Rip.

  Tomorrow—her thoughts switched to the coming event. Would the audience in Albany respond to her the way her fellow passengers had? In a way, tonight’s performance was like a rehearsal. It’s bound to be different at a real concert where people have bought tickets. She shook off the creeping doubt. If Professor Calvano hadn’t thought I was good enough, Cousin Nathan wouldn’t have asked me in the first place.

  Cousin Nathan—there was an example of what discipline and hard work could achieve. His parents were very poor. He had to wait until he went to work at sixteen before he could even begin studying the violin. All those years he scrimped and saved to pay for his lessons. And every night, after a long hard working day, he’d practice. Hour after hour, with a mute on his instrument so the neighbors would not be disturbed. But he had never considered he was making any sacrifice because he loved music so passionately. Now music was his whole life. I wonder—could it be my whole life, too?

  Just a little further along the railing, a couple stood close together. Ella felt a quick pang of loneliness. If only Jules were here.

  For a while she stared down at the water churning in a long furrow. She shivered a little, chilled by the wind and cold. Retracing her steps, she went down to her little cabin.

  The engines stilled. The boat floated quietly toward the dock. For a moment all was serene. But then the sudden jar of the boat against the pilings, the shouts of the deckhands, the roll of the gangway being trundled out, the screams of gulls overhead, the fitful roar of the wind, and the reverse of engines, all struck up a symphony of sound—the music of arrival.

  Ella scanned the city unfolding before her. The spire of a church steeple reached high out of the morning gray-ness. Tall and proud it surmounted the assorted rows of dark boxlike buildings that lined the riverbank.

  Albany may be the state’s capital, she thought, but the skyline is certainly unimpressive. There’s nothing here like our Woolworth Building.

  Ella could see a score of people gathered on the landing. Would she be able to pick out Nathan? After all, it’s been five years. Was he still the handsome bachelor? Odd he’d never married.

  Someone was calling her name. There! There he was! She waved excitedly.

  Suitcase bumping against her side, she hurried down the gangplank. Nathan came forward to greet her.

  “Ella, how are you?” He smiled, his mouth wide and generous, just like Papa’s.

  “Why you’re a young lady,” Nathan exclaimed. “Lucky for me you sent your picture or I’d never have recognized you.”

  Ella smiled. “I had to grow up sometime.”

  “True,” he replied. “Did you enjoy the trip?”

  “Oh yes. It was just heavenly.”

  “Good. Let’s get going. We’ll have just enough time to get you settled before rehearsal.”

  They boarded a streetcar. As it wound its way slowly through the heart of the city, Ella kept turning from side to side trying to take everything in. She was vaguely disappointed. She hadn’t really known what to expect, but somehow Albany seemed small-townish to her. Row upon row of low buildings, dull-looking factories, people moving unhurriedly through the narrow streets. There seemed to be none of the excitement she felt back home. But a little further on, she noticed the neighborhood had begun to improve.

  “That’s the state capitol.” Nathan pointed to a huge building, fronted by a seemingly endless flight of stairs. “That’s where all the state’s laws are made.”

  Swaying and bumping along, the streetcar soon sped away from the town’s center into a more residential area. A few minutes later they had arrived at the old brownstone house where Nathan lived. Ella followed the plump landlady up the carpeted stairs to a small but attractive room on an upper floor. Quickly she unpacked and put away her things.

  “My that was fast!” Nathan declared when she came tripping down the stairs. “The Community Center is just a few blocks away from here. We’ll be right on time.”

  The rehearsal proceeded smoothly. When it was over, the piano accompanist said, “You may be tiny, but oh my, there’s nothing tiny about your voice. Your singing will round out our instrumental program perfectly.”

  Afterward Nathan took her to lunch at a little café nearby. The small tables and soft rose lighting gave the place a cozy atmosphere. The owner welcomed Nathan warmly. When introduced to Ella, he gave her an especially big smile and waved toward the cashier’s desk. There on the wall for all to see, hung a large poster with the caption, “The little girl with the big voice!”

  “Why—it’s me!” Ella gasped.

  Nathan chuckled. “How do you like your billing?”

  “I don’t know,” she faltered. “Oh Nathan, how, can I live up to that? It’s so—so p
rofessional. I’m scared!”

  “Of course you are. Everybody is before a performance.” He patted her arm comfortingly. “You’ll be fine. Once you’re onstage, the nervousness will go. You’ll see.”

  “I hope so,” Ella said, smiling wanly.

  “Good luck!” someone whispered. Someone else smiled and pressed her hand. Someone even kissed her lightly on the check. Was it Nathan? And there she was—onstage confronting a sea of upturned faces.

  There was a scattered round of applause. Ella suddenly felt buoyant. Why, they want to like me. They’re telling me not to worry—to go ahead and sing. At once she was filled with the desire to return the warmth and friendliness flowing up to her.

  The introductory bars were being played. Ella took a deep breath and her voice floated free and light as a bird on the wing.

  With each song, her confidence grew. She was singing well. She could feel it. It turned out that the numbers she had come prepared to sing were not enough. The audience clamored for more. So she sang her final encore over again.

  Afterward, Ella stood backstage amid the other performers, with Nathan at her side, shaking hands and acknowledging compliments. This was the reward for all her hard work and constant practice. Oh, but it’s worth it—every bit of it, she exulted.

  At the fringe of the crowd surrounding her, there hovered a paunchy, moon-faced man wearing steel-rimmed glasses and a high, stiff collar, clutching a derby in his hand. Only when the crowd had thinned out did he approach her.

  “Young lady,” he said, “you’re quite a warbler.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You an Albany girl?”

  “No. I’m from New York City.”

  He nodded. “Is that so? You interested in the big time?”

  “Big time?” Ella repeated.

  Nathan laughed. “He means the professional stage.”

  The stranger did not wait for her answer. “Well now, don’t misunderstand,” he continued. “I’m not a talent scout. As a matter of fact, I’m the manager of the vaudeville theatre here. But I’ve got a friend, Mr. Hart, and he’s a scout for the top producers on Broadway. My friend’s going to audition in a couple of weeks. If you’re interested, I’ll be glad to let him, or your manager here, know.”