Chapter 19

[Disclaimer: This story reads best in LANDSCAPE MODE on a smart phone or any other mobile device.]

By the way, most of the August concert’s original premise was thrown out. Instead of just girls, we made it co-ed, but integrated students from both schools. This made for some remarkable choices of music.

The concept of two songs from shows we hadn’t done anything from was maintained, sort of.

There were two songs each from CHICAGO, GUYS & DOLLS, JEKYLL & HYDE, A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC, ONCE UPON A MATTRESS, PRODUCERS, SOUTH PACIFIC, WEST SIDE STORY, SEVEN BRIDES FOR SEVEN BROTHERS, BYE BYE BIRDIE, CAROUSEL, GYPSY, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, HOW TO SUCCEED IN BUSINESS WITHOUT REALLY TRYING, and a single song from ANNIE 2 and PAINT YOUR WAGON.

A brisk flurry of auditions happened the first Friday after school after classes in the orchestra room. The casting was quick with everybody getting nearly everything they wanted. Little Isabel Chapman would start the evening with singing “My daddy,” and her brother Peter would end the evening singing “They Call The Wind Maria” from PAINT YOUR WAGON. Perfect beginning and end! With the slowdown of the LES MISÉRABLES schedule, everything was going fabulously.

The September Concert of just the orchestra would include only music from my personal idol, John Williams. To quote Wikipedia, “He is considered to be one of the greatest composers of all time.”

On that program, there would be music from the movies FIDDLER ON THE ROOF, TOWERING INFERNO, JAWS, STAR WARS, CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, SUPERMAN, HOOK, RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, E.T. THE EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL, JFK, SCHINDLERS LIST, the first three Harry Potter Films ... and some of his other pieces including “Liberty Fanfare,” plus the main themes from JURASSIC PARK and POSEIDON ADVENTURE.

Enough scores for all of this music that I have mentioned came by way of Brian O’Sullivan at MTI again. His payment would be dinner alone with Janice Forrester. He was coming to see the show, as well. Alice gave mom so much grief over this, but they would always be the best of friends. That tells me, he must still have the hots for Mom, even after all these years.

‘October with the Teachers’ had filled up getting two performances slated.

Thomas Auditorium was moving along rather quickly. I had the occasion to walk in there and see multiple crews of gentlemen working diligently attaching seats, working on light soffits in the foyer, and other such work. I was allowed in as long as I didn’t get in anyone’s way. I steered clear, even putting on a hard hat as instructed.

I started counting seats, and the lower level had 1034 seats, along with places for up to eight people in wheelchairs. The upstairs was off-limits to me, but it looked spectacular. They were installing the pit floor. I just watched their meticulous attention to detail. The general contractor was also a parent from Jackson Heights.

“What do you think, Michael?” Ken Bell said walking up to me.

My eyes were blurry with tears of joy as I said, “This is much bigger than I first thought.”

“The parents funding this wanted it to be the biggest anywhere in the state, as a way of showing off our talented offspring,” Mr. Bell said. “The adjusted total of seats is close to 2,000.”

“Holy Shit!” was all I could think to say.

“Well said, Michael. The proscenium is 44 feet, and the pit is a third larger than Lincoln Heights. I would expect you could easily fit 100 musicians, and all of their toys,” he said with a smile. “Michael practices all the time. Thank you for his renewed interest in school. Our littlest, Lily, is in fifth grade. She thinks she wants to learn the trumpet just like her big brother.”

“We have room for her right now, Sir.”

“Yes, you do, Son. Personally, I want to thank you for raising the profile of Jackson Heights. I know of many families who want to transfer over, all with talented children of their own.”

“Great to hear that, Mr. Bell, what about the technical audio side of things?”

“Come back in a couple of weeks, Michael. You will be dutifully amazed at what you can buy with a big budget.”

“Can’t wait,” I said leaving the place and putting the orange hardhat on the table as I left.

From there I headed over to Lincoln High, to catch the choir rehearsal. I walked in and saw Miss Stapleton sitting down.

“Hello Michael, guess what, I have great news -- I am pregnant.”

I gulped audibly.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, -- it’s not yours! I have a new regular beau his name is John Bagley. He has a little girl in your chorus from his first marriage.”

“You mean Lydia, in third grade?”

“We’re getting married right after the Teachers Concert. Lydia is getting a little brother next May.”

“I am so happy for you and him, and Lydia. Does that mean we have to stop flirting?”

She smiled and said; “Please don’t ... I get a real thrill from our flirting. I want to apologize for what happened. I was so hormonal back them.”

“Don’t apologize ... I loved that day. Ever since then my girl and I have been more experimental. You will always be my Mrs. Robinson.”

I felt a thump on the back of my head. I got up and was greeted by my favorite pair of lips ... ever!

I never heard the bell ring, and we Jenn and I were kissing as the rest of the choir came in, with the guys whistling at us. I heard some “Awws” from the girls. Besides my Jennifer ... Harmony Perry, Kaylee, Joan, and Shirley Wicks were in here now. I quickly counted twenty-eight. Peter Chapman in his last year of high school gave me a high-five causing everyone to crack up. He has a younger sister named Lily as well.

Their previous piano player had graduated, and the new young lady was Nancy Starr, a pretty brunette with glasses who is fifteen-years-old. She gave me a wink that I hoped nobody saw.

“What’s happening here today?” I asked the teacher.

“How about something from the upcoming concert?” Peter remarked.

“All right Mr. Chapman — step forward. Nancy, do you have “Maria” in front of you?”

She flipped through the piano version I had gotten her for each of the LHS songs. “Now, I do, Boss!”

I raised my baton, started Nancy, and then Peter began...

PETER MICHAEL CHAPMAN
Away out here they got a name
For rain and wind and fire
The rain is Tess, the fire Joe,
And they call the wind Maria
Maria blows the stars around
And sends the clouds a ‘flyin’
Maria makes the mountains sound
Like folks were up there dying

Maria -- Maria
They call the wind Maria
Before I knew Maria’s name
And heard her wail and whinin’
I had a girl, and she had me
And the sun was always shinin’

But then one day
I left my girl
I left her far behind me
And now I am lost,
so gone and lost
Not even God can find me
Maria -- Maria
They call the wind Maria
Out here they got a name for rain
For wind and fire only
But when you are lost and all alone
There ain’t no word but lonely
And I am a lost and lonely man
Without a star to guide me
Maria blow my love to me
I need my girl beside me
Maria -- Maria
They call the wind Maria
Maria -- Maria!
Blow my love ... to me...

His applause was well-earned.

“Wow. If you had sung like that at the LES MISÉRABLES tryout, you would most certainly be singing Javert.”

“Don’t rub it in, please?” he said.

“Sorry, Peter. Chorus, how would you like to be part of this number?” I questioned.

They became very animated at this request.

I explained where and how they should be augmenting Peter. With the two big-voiced sopranos of Kaylee and Jennifer, I had Nancy plunk out a few notes.

“OK, everybody ... let’s do it again, and remember who the lead singer is, ladies, OK?”

The second time through was impressive. His girlfriend Sarah, also in the choir, gave him a great big hug. I know my mother would have a conniption fit over adding twenty-seven people. Nevertheless, I said, “To perform this number, men in suits, ladies in conservative dresses.”

“MR. WATERS, step forward, please?”

“Nancy, ‘This Is The Moment,’ please? Nelson ... have you been working on your head voice like I asked?”

“Yes, Mr. Thomas, I have.”

I waved my baton at Nancy...

NELSON ANDREW WATERS
This is the moment!
This is the day,
When I send all my
doubts and demons
On their way!
Every endeavor,
I have made – ever
Is coming into play,
Is here and now - today!
This is the moment
This is the time,
When the momentum
and the moment
Are in rhyme!
Give me this moment
This precious chance
I will gather up my past
And make some
sense at last!

(Come on Nelson!)

This is the moment,
When all I have done
All the dreaming,
Scheming and screaming,
Become one!

(Yes!)

This is the day
See it sparkle and shine,
When all I have lived for
Becomes mine!
For all these years,
I have faced the world alone,
And now the time has come
To prove to them
I have made it on my own!

(Here is the head voice part – come on Nelson!)

This is the moment
My final test
Destiny beckoned,
I never reckoned,
Second Best!
I won’t look down,
I must not fall!
This is the moment,
The sweetest moment
of them all!

(Here is the ramp up to the big ending)

This is the moment!
Damn all the odds!
This day, or never,
I will sit forever
With the gods!
When I look back,
I will always recall,
Moment for moment,
This was the moment,
The greatest moment
Of them ... all... !

Crap! He held the final note for the first time all the way to very end. I saw true emotion on his face. He caught a breath and said, “With apologies to Miss Stapleton, Mr. Thomas, you have made me a singer. Thank you for that.”

The rest of them were all applauding for him. I saw Jen Stapleton crying, and I got her a tissue from her desktop.

After things had settled down, it was my girlfriend’s turn. I had given her “When You Got It, Flaunt It,” because of the way she had performed it at home. I cut it down, including the dancing. Her mother gave her some choreography, including a few high kicks. She threatened to wear only a skintight black leotard to perform it, but I told her we would discuss that when things got closer.

“Jennifer Guthrie, front and center.”

She stepped forward and saluted me. I believe I was saluting her back, but I went on. She did the number, and it was marvelous, seductive, and probably not appropriate. That won’t stop me from letting her do it.

At the end of class, I reminded them we had a run-through of everything on the LHS stage after school on Wednesday.

I walked into the auditorium, and Stu ran up to me, getting my attention, “Mr. Thomas, we just got replacement microphones, including eighteen cordless head mics. I wanted you to know in case you wanted to use them for the upcoming August event.”

“That’s wonderful Stu. Have you had a chance to work on my ‘Death Light?’”

He spoke to someone on his headset, and the set piece came out not looking much different, at least from where I was standing.

“I got every available flood light I could get. Make it hot, please?” he said to the person on set. I felt a moment of excitement course through me.

Stu said, “Steff, take out the house lights, drop the stage lights to 20%. Be ready.”

Everything he had asked for had happened. Stu paused for effect, and then said, “Take Special Number One to forty percent.”

The archway glowed a mysterious off-white, and then Stu said, “Take it to 88 ... NOW!”

“Jesus H Christ,” I said out loud. “That is perfect. It won’t blind someone going through it, will it?”

“No Boss, I have walked through it more than a few times. They just need to look forward. You can’t see them from here, but I have added some black curtains to contain the light, and so the actor can steal him or herself to the side, so when the light goes off, you don’t see them. The whole concept is mind blowing, if I do say so myself.”

“Fabulous, really, truly fabulous, Stu.”

“I was hoping you would be pleased. The whole device is on its personal circuit.”

“I went on a walk-through of our in-progress auditorium earlier today. If I can’t find someone by the time it opens, are you available to run it?”

“Sure can ... when is it expected to open?” Stu asked.

“May of next year, possibly earlier,” I said.

“So, by the time you are ready with, THE SOUND OF MUSIC?”

“How did you ... never mind? I guess there are no secrets around here anymore,” I said. “Even if we do go with the cordless for the monthly events, I still want corded mics on stands for LES MISÉRABLES. Can we get sixteen mics and stands?”

“No problem, Sir,” he said. “Just give me enough time, I can do whatever you want, whenever you want.”

“I will say it again, Stu -- you don’t need to call me Sir. Michael is just fine.”

He put out his hand and said, “My parents always told me to call anybody smarter than me, Sir and Ma’am.”

I shook his hand and just chuckled on my way out.

Wednesday morning, over the Jackson Heights sound system, in a woman’s voice, “Will Isabel Chapman please come immediately to Principal McGowan’s office.”

I was in the orchestra, and I dropped my baton and rushed to the office myself. Something sounded -- odd to me. I saw Peter Chapman running into the school. He picked up his sister, and they went to where they had been paged.

I hurried myself to the admin office, where Clara stopped me in my tracks. “This doesn’t concern you, Michael.”

I sat down and listened in, as did Miss Jepson.

The only voice I could make out was Peter screaming, “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, BILL IS DEAD?”

‘Aw, shit,’ I thought to myself. I didn’t want to believe this had just happened.

Suddenly, Isabel ran out crying, and I caught her and held her close. I never saw a little girl crying so hard. Peter rushed out and saw us. He nodded at me and began, “Apparently, an hour ago; Bill got into a shouting match with a guard. Other guards came over and began beating on him with their batons. When all the dust settled, he was dead! Izzy and I will not be in the concert. I hope you understand.”

“No -- I don’t understand, not even a little! You lose your brother and take it out on your little sister?”

I looked at her face and asked, “What just happened is horrible. I lost my dad when I was younger than you, Izzy.” I had never used her nickname before. “What do you want to do? Do you want to sing your song so you can mourn your brother? That would be a great way to show your love for him!”

“MICHAEL,” Peter said. “Don’t you dare coerce my sister to do something she doesn’t want to do?”

I turned to look at this little girl again, “You’re only eleven years old, Izzy. It’s tough to lose a family member at any age. I know that. My girl knows that. Her father just left her and her mother when she was little, but she’s gotten past it. I am neither your brother nor your father -- all I am is someone who ... cares deeply about you.”

Pulling her up on my lap, I continued, “If you don’t sing, then all you might end up doing is crying all night long. I know how much you love to sing. I can see it in your pretty eyes every time you open your mouth. Will you sing for me tonight at our run-through, if for no other reason than to show just how strong a young lady you have become?”

She had been looking back and forth at her big brother and me. A crowd had gathered, including their parents.

Izzy took a couple of deep breaths and spoke, “Michael, you are exactly right. It hurts really bad to lose someone you love. When Billy was younger, he would come home from school and tell me how much fun he had. We would sit and talk while playing music. He liked, ... no, he loved music. If he had ever heard how you make music sound, he would have been your friend ... maybe even your best friend.”

She stood tall and said, “Peter, I want to sing tonight and on Saturday when we perform for an audience. Michael, I have started to care about you just like another big brother, so you have to make Peter sing, too!”

I let go of her, stood up and walked over to Peter, who was taller than me.

“Did you hear that? Your little sister, loves you so damn much -- she won’t sing without you! You both need some time to grieve ... I understand that. Do that at home with your mom and dad. We have a complete run-through with costumes and lighting in just over four hours. Sit here and talk about Billy all you need to. I will make sure we dedicate this performance to him, if that is what you want?”

I gave him a hug, and the talented brother and sister gave each other one as well. I went over and hugged Mr. and Mrs. Chapman, and then left the room. I turned back and invited them to our rehearsal this afternoon ... they agreed.

I found my way to my shared office with Paul, still wiping my eyes clear. He was there, so I stopped and explained what had happened. He gave me a hug, one I apparently needed.

It got all around the school, including Lincoln High. With my emotions on my sleeve, I created an In-Memorium for Bill Chapman, which will be placed into each program as it is handed out.

There was nothing about what happened to me in it, just that he will be missed, and he leaves behind grieving parents, and a loving little sister and older brother. I contacted Ed and Millie and ran it by them first, and they approved.

Eighth grade is a bitch!

I stumbled my way through the rest of the day, doing my best to keep it together for everyone else. I found and spoke to Mike Bell, giving him some extra playing instructions for Isabel when she sings later. He slapped me on the shoulder and said, “Thank you for this. I will do it just as you ask. You’re a shining light in a sea of troubled students. I want to be just like you when I grow up.” (I am only two years older than he)

I called mom to tell her what had happened, and she mentioned that she and Ally would be there in plenty of time with all the costumes they were providing.

The rest of the day went by at breakneck speed. I followed the students who were taking the percussion instruments over to LHS. They were all eighth graders, making sure nothing was being jostled from the transition to Lincoln High from our orchestra room.

I had plans, thinking ahead, to have all orchestra and choir classes on our new stage. I haven’t run that by our principal yet, but it does make perfect sense, at least, to me.

I pointed the young men to where everything needed to be positioned. The most fragile item they had were the tubular bells, which had been wrapped carefully beforehand. After they had left, I tucked them a bit closer together.

I got up on the chair to the drum set and stared at the sticks wondering if I had enough of the right kind of rhythm to play this complicated set of drums and cymbals.

Suddenly, the opening drum bit to the NCIS-LA show pierced my mind. I determined what must have been percussed, so I counted the beat out and began. The melody went through my head as I did my best to emulate the unique sounds of that theme.

Upon finishing, Honora Graham, one of our three female percussionists clapped for me. She had told me to call her Honey, if I wanted.

“Sorry?” I said. “I have always wanted to try that.”

“That was pretty good, Michael. You forgot to use the foot pedaled instruments. Don’t worry, the percussion section has it all covered tonight.”

Getting up and handing her the sticks, I said, “I know that Miss Graham, but I do have some singers to deal with tonight. Have patience, please?”

“I heard, I think everyone has heard. That is so sad for such a young person to die, for any reason,” she said. “Now, this is how that drum piece should sound.”

She started with a snap snare tapping out a quick beat, making it sound much better than I certainly did, only minutes earlier.

“Michael, if you would like some lessons, I could teach you, anytime?” (She’s only eleven)

“As much as I would like that, a certain blonde might have problems with it, but thanks anyway.”

Within the next twenty minutes, everyone else arrived. After getting my two-way headset, I asked to be patched through to everyone. I then asked all the performers to get up on stage.

“You may notice that we have nine microphones on stage, with one set two feet lower than the rest. That is Isabel’s.”

Peter started the applause for his little sister.

“Anyone can use it, but put it back where it started. They are cordless tonight. Whenever you get the urge to use one, put it back on the stand it started on. There has been a tragedy in our midst, but please -- focus on your performance.”

“Stay up on stage the whole night, out of the way of those coming after you.”