Chapter 9: In Demand

Wednesday, July 6, 1983

Aside from spotting Laura twice (once outside the cafeteria, and once in the library), both times hanging back and almost certainly watching me, today was about the most ‘normal’ day so far. My classes were good, Cammie and I (along with Cammie’s roommate Carrie, and another girl named Suzie, who Carrie brought) got a lot done in the library. Carrie turned out to have a wicked sense of humor, and Suzie was quiet but sharp.

Since Angie was certain this Carrie wasn’t her Carrie, we could breathe easily there. One strangely-present girl from the past was enough for now. Of course, it was also true that my Laura hadn’t been a debater, nor had she been in the same grade as I was. It’s just that those things were minor compared to the bigger picture.

They rounded us up at five for the trip to Ravinia. There were plenty of buses, and we wound up in the same seating arrangement as before: Jas in my lap, Cammie next to me, and Angie and Paige across the aisle. There were just a few other obvious couples that I was aware of. It’d been that way my first go-round, too.

Laura slipped onto the bus (if one can ‘slip’ onto a bus using a crutch) just before they closed the door, settling in one of the front rows. I spotted her watching us a couple of times on the drive, but pretended not to notice. It seemed like some of the girls she was sitting near had missed her, though I couldn’t be sure.

I had no idea what she was looking for, but she was clearly looking for something. I suppose if I hated, and perhaps feared, the guy that I really needed to talk to, especially if I was smaller and weaker, I’d probably do the same. In any case, it was fine that she was doing what she needed to. I did have something to hide, but she already knew that secret.

Ravinia (technically Ravinia Park) bills itself as ‘The oldest and most programmatically diverse music festival in North America.’ I’m sure they’re correct. It’s been around since the early 1900s, when Chicagoans wanted to get out of the city (with its noise, bustle, and — at the time — plethora of foul odors) and enjoy some fun and culture. The grounds are beautiful and the music is excellent.

Today, we’d be listening to the Chicago Symphony and watching more fireworks. It’s hard to go wrong with that. Since it was predominantly a ‘pops’ show, with patriotic and military works predominating, I would probably stay awake. First-life Steve had a terrible habit of falling asleep during concerts, even if he loved the music.

Apparently, I’d even fallen asleep next to the conductor’s wife at one show. I only found out afterward that the nice lady next to me was the conductor’s wife. How embarrassing!

I hadn’t tested things this go-round. Perhaps I’d be fine. I had no idea why it happened so predictably then. I didn’t fall asleep in any other type of music or theatrical performance, not even opera. Not even bad opera, not in English, and without subtitles.

The one exception would be all-day music festivals. I could occasionally doze off at those, particularly on the third day in the heat of the afternoon when a band I didn’t care about was playing. That could probably be excused.

Northwestern had brought blankets for all of us and handed out eight-dollar vouchers for dinner. We could certainly eat on that much, but if we needed to kick in a bit more, that wouldn’t be a problem.

The girls and I (again, Carrie and Suzie wound up joining us) found a spot and put our blankets together. We didn’t need the space that seven blankets gave us, so we overlapped them a bit to be nice to others.

We wound up leaving Paige to defend the blankets while the rest of us looked around and picked out food. Angie had a good idea of what Paige liked (in terms of cuisine, not just other things), and Paige could easily assert herself if anyone tried to take more space than we wanted to share.

We came back with a bunch of food and settled in. It was about a two-hour wait until the music began. We filled the time by talking about our programs, of course. Neither Carrie nor Suzie was very familiar with Drama at all (outside of simply watching performances) and were quite surprised to find that Angie was also a debater and that I did Humorous Interp.

Other students constantly interrupted us. Most of them were from Drama, trying to figure out who Ang, Jas, and Paige were sitting with. They were just as surprised to find us as Carrie and Suzie had been the other way around.

My thought was that Northwestern was dropping the ball here. Yes, we ate together, and yes, we went on outings together, but they didn’t do anything to get the different groups to mesh. It might have greatly broadened some people’s horizons to learn more about ‘those weird Drama kids’ or ‘those stuffy, boring Debaters.’ Probably the Radio/Television/Film kids could’ve learned something about both of our groups, and we could’ve learned about them.

Instead, unless something weird happened, like our little mixed group, everyone just sat with the kids they saw every day. Why not? That’s how groups form, for the most part.

The show itself turned out to be terrific, and I didn’t fall asleep, nor even come close. That was a relief!

It didn’t end until about ten-thirty, and it was midnight when the buses got back to campus. We said our goodbyes, then hurried off to our dorms.

David came in as I was just settling into bed.

“Hey, you went, right?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“That was fun! I’d never been there. It feels weird to do this tourist-y stuff somewhere that I sort of live, but I’m glad I went.”

“Do what you can, as much as interests you,” I said. “I’ll bet you remember things like that concert more than you remember debate twenty years from now.”

“You have a weird perspective,” he said. “Good ... but weird. I like it, though. Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.”

I was off to sleep in no time.

Thursday, July 7, 1983

I had two notes at the front desk when I came down. This could get someone worried, even someone like me who was used to being called to the principal’s office for positive reasons.

The first note was from Dad, who asked me to call home when I could. Not him, but home. I figured that meant Mom could take care of it. Apparently, I’d missed it last night.

The second note was from Professor Danforth, who asked me to meet him backstage before the morning assembly. Nothing ominous there!

I called Mom before leaving the dorm. It turned out that three reporters had called yesterday looking for me. The Wall Street Journal, the New York Times, and the Washington Post. Well ... if you were going to be stalked by newspapers, it wasn’t a bad list.

I told Mom it was fine if they figured out where I was, and that I’d talk to them and try not to say anything stupid.

That gave me a good guess as to what Professor Danforth wanted.

I blamed Reagan’s speechwriter(s). Perhaps I’d get a free trip to the White House out of it. I wasn’t holding my breath, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, either.

Lizzie and Janet deserved it more than I did, but maybe they’d get one, too.

I went ahead and told the gang at breakfast. The Memorial crew wasn’t all that surprised. The other two (Carrie and Suzie seemed to be regulars, now) had missed the whole story about the speech and were amazed. Fortunately, neither of them said anything bad about two girls going to Prom. They seemed nice, after all.

On the other hand, they were unquestionably smart, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that the five of us must have been just fine with Lizzie and Janet. That might’ve caused any negative comments to be withheld. Who knew?

Laura was again watching. I almost missed her but spotted her as I left. I think I left earlier than she was expecting.

I found the backstage door for the lecture hall and headed in. Professor Danforth was waiting. The curtains were closed (always, so far), so it was pretty private back here.

“Ah, you must be Steve!” he said, offering his hand.

“I am,” I said, shaking hands.

“A pleasure to meet you! I really should do more to meet every student, but ... it’s a busy job.”

“I can understand that, Sir.”

He nodded. “I wondered if you were aware of President Reagan’s Saturday weekend address last weekend.”

“I am. My Dad heard it and called me, and I was able to find a copy in the library.”

“That’s a relief! I looked into it, and ... I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything quite like that.”

“We think it’s a first. It couldn’t have happened to better people. Lizzie and Janet are amazing. We’re going to miss them a great deal next year.”

He nodded. I think he’d expected a ‘Yes’ or the like, judging from the reaction.

“As far as anyone here can tell, we’ve never had a current student at NHSI wind up in the national press, much less a Presidential speech. It’s extraordinary! I wanted to make sure you were okay with my mentioning it, and also get a feel for how to handle it if we get inquiries.”

“I’m fine with you mentioning it, as long as you say nice things...”

He chuckled at that, nodding.

“ ... and you can pass inquiries on to me, or ... well. I don’t know the nuances of the agreement my parents signed, but I suspect there’s only so much you can give out, and you can give that out. Please don’t mention that I also got hit by a truck, though.”

He chuckled again.

“Now that would’ve been embarrassing, if we’d gone and had our first student to do something like this get seriously injured! We’re happy not to mention that. Thank you.”

“Thank you, too.”

“I’ll let you get to the assembly.”

We shook hands again, and I headed back and around to the auditorium.

Dr. Danforth didn’t lead all of the morning assemblies, but he led this one. No surprise to me, or Cammie, or Carrie or Suzie.

Near the end of what were mostly routine remarks, he said, “On another note, we’ve had a student do something that, as far as we know, is unique in Northwestern NHSI history. We’ve had some terrific people come through here, as you all know...”

Some heads nodded. A lot of kids looked bored. First-life me would’ve been one of them.

“Some of them have gone on to be journalists, speechwriters, and the like, so it’s certainly the case that NHSI students have appeared in national newspapers and contributed words to politicians. At least two Presidents have had NHSI alumni on their speechwriting teams.”

A few more nods. These weren’t journalists and none of them saw themselves as future speechwriters. They might be, all the same. Who knew?

“However, until now, we don’t believe that we’ve ever had an NHSI student whose words were directly quoted by a politician while they were at NHSI.”

That got more attention. We all knew how unlikely that sounded.

“Not just any politician, either, but the President of the United States, himself.”

And that got about eighty percent of the room perked up.

“Would Steve Marshall please stand up?”

I did, trying not to blush. Now eighty percent of the room was looking at me. Laura was very much included. She was way in the back, but I could feel her stare.

“For those of you who missed it, Mister Marshall, along with four other current NHSI students — one, Cammie Clarke, is in this room...”

Cammie stood, waved, then sat.

“ ... are from Memorial High School in Houston, Texas. If you did Extemp in May or June, or followed the national press, you might know that Memorial made history as apparently the first high school to have a lesbian couple attend their Prom without legal action or major drama.”

There were a lot of looks, then someone (I have no idea who, but they were on the upper right side of the room, and nowhere near Laura) started clapping. Most of the room joined in before it died down.

“Perhaps as much, or more, to the point, the two girls in question, Janet Collins and Elizabeth Vinton, were debaters. Not just any debaters, either. They placed second at Nationals this year. That, of course, means that Mister Marshall and Miss Clarke knew them well. As luck would have it, Steve wound up being interviewed by several newspapers, and his quote, which I will read, appeared in President Reagan’s Saturday address this past weekend. It wasn’t attributed, but quotes in that speech seldom are. I’ll read an excerpt from the President’s remarks now:”

I have said before, and I say now, that the youth of America are one of our greatest strengths. Where we falter, they will learn from our example and do things better. I wish to share with you a comment made by an exceptional young man not long ago. He said, “Everyone should be welcomed and respected, regardless of how they look, what they believe, who they love, and so forth, as long as they give the same respect to everyone else.”

That, my friends, sums up the best of America. We welcome and respect those who come here with respect in our hearts. We welcome and respect our neighbors, the ones we know and the ones we have never met. And, if some find themselves not welcomed and respected, we strive to better ourselves and our nation.

That got another round of applause. I was increasingly reminded of the ‘Celebrity’ days at Memorial.

Dr. Danforth said, “I’m sure that, when Steve said that, he had not the slightest idea that it might one day wind up in a Presidential speech. Who would? The point I want to make to you is not that Steve is terrific, nor that Northwestern is terrific because he chose to go here, nor anything of the sort, but rather that you never know where your words might go when you become part of the story rather than merely a commentator upon it. You never know when an action borne out of simple common courtesy and human dignity might become a major event. I’m sure Miz Collins and Miz Vinton didn’t go to their Prom intending to make national news, nor to put themselves or Mister Marshall in the national eye, but rather simply to enjoy their Prom. And I’m sure that Mister Marshall and the others at Memorial didn’t support them in hopes of fame, but simply because it was the right thing to do.