Chapter Twenty-Seven: Fraternity

Friday, July 29, 1910

The crowd at the band shell was overflowing. The 1909 Eagle Creek Music Festival had a crowd of 2,000. Tonight, by various counts, that number was 3,000. The time was 6:55; the first song of the evening would be played in five minutes. Emily and Sarah sat in the performers' tent. Sarah had her eyes closed; imaging what it would be like to touch each key on the piano. Emily was looking over the lyrics.

"Psst. Sarah? Sarah?" Emily was antsy.

"Emily, once again, don't worry about it. People will like the song. You will remember the lyrics and even if you forget them I will have the words on the piano right behind you."

"Ok, ok, ok. I just wanted to hear you say that once more."

Sarah rolled her eyes. She stood up for a moment and then looked around. "Emily, follow me." She grabbed Emily's hand and they walked to an open storage shed. Sarah maneuvered slyly to ensure no one could see them walk into the shed and close the door. It was pitch black in the small metal room.

"Emily," she whispered. "Emily, listen to me. You will be magnificent this evening. You will bowl them over. You will remember those lyrics."

"That song is so complicated. Why couldn't you have picked something else?"

"Emily, we don't have time for this. I am going to play flawlessly. You are going to serenade those people to lofty plains. You will do it. Stop doubting! You are talking yourself into an accident. I will not let you do that. You will succeed."

"Thank you Sarah."

"Trust me, Emily; I know what I am doing." They hugged. Sarah went to open the door, it was stuck.

Lynn sat in a chair backstage collecting her thoughts.

"Lynn? Are you all set?" asked Michael Conrad.

Dennis lifted up her chin and kissed her. "She is now."

Michael looked at his watch. "30 seconds until show time."

Lynn said, "I'm ready, the orchestra is in tune. Just a hunch here, make sure Emily and Sarah are on track."

Michael said, "I'm on it."

Lynn turned to Dennis. "Kiss for luck?"

He did and then gave her another kiss. "What was that one for?"

"Because..." Dennis looked at his watch. He looked her in the eye. "I… love…" "Ladies And Gentleman!" boomed the announcer's voice. "Welcome to the 5th Annual Eagle Creek Music Festival."

Lynn was addled. "What did you say?"

Dennis smiled. "I said, I… love…" "Please welcome this year's director, Lynn Watson."

Lynn stuck out her tongue at Dennis and walked on stage and stepped up to the microphone.

"Thank you Mr. Dozier for that introduction. Beginning in 1905, the Eagle Creek Music Festival has been a labor of love, a gift from this small prairie community to its neighbors. Hundreds of town folk have volunteered to build temporary shelters and assist vendors and transport musicians from all over Sheridan County.

Mr. Michael Conrad, president of the Eagle Creek branch of Montana Chemical Bank has been the chairman. It is his responsibility to find someone whom he feels possess the talents and the fortitude to serve this post.

On July 8th, Mr. Conrad came to my residence and asked if I would serve as this year's director.

My response was, 'Are you nuts?'"

The audience gave an uproarious laugh.

"He replied, 'You have an ear for music, Lynn. You have a gift. You may either take this opportunity to share it with the world or you can dawdle your life away in the music room of the River City public library. The choice is yours.'

I could not resist a man with such a degree of confidence in my character. I took the challenge. As director, I insisted that many changes be made to the operation and schedule, Michael Conrad stood beside me all the way.

When some became leery, even suspicious of me because I'm a woman and I'm only sixteen-years-old, he stood up on my behalf and spoke in tones more befitting his gender.

Without his assistance, his leadership this would not have run so smoothly. Will you join me in showing your appreciation to Mr. Michael Conrad president of the Eagle Creek branch of Montana Chemical Bank."

She began clapping; the audience caught the cue and clapped as well.

Lynn looked over at Dennis who was pantomiming, "He's not here."

Lynn smiled and continued clapping, assuming it was a joke. After thirty seconds of clapping she reasoned it was not a joke.

Dennis ran out on stage and gave her a note. She read it. Her eyes bulged, this made the audience laugh.

She cringed and rolled her eyes, the audience laughed even louder than before. Lynn made a funny face.

"Oh the beauties of public performance. I don't know how professional this is, but, why not, I'll read you the note that was just handed to me."

She cleared her throat.

"Sarah and Emily have locked themselves in a storage shed. Michael is attempting to free them."

The audience was in hysterics.

"Now that I have said my piece and properly embarrassed my friends, how about I continue with my prepared remarks?"

The audience applauded, some shouted, "Hurray!" Lynn laughed along with them.

She said in a playfully exasperated tone, "Here we go! Walt Whitman was a man enamored with the ideals of this great nation. He expressed them eloquently in his seminal work, Leaves of Grass.

I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear; 
Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong; 
The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, 
The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work; 
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing as he stands; 
The wood-cutter's song—the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown; 
The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife at work—or of the girl sewing or washing—
Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else; 
The day what belongs to the day—
At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly, 
Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.

Tonight we celebrate the creative spirit. You will hear a variety of musicians performing with a variety of instruments. They come from many faraway lands. We are a patchwork people gleaning the best of man's cultures and tossing out arcane traditions like the chaff. With our voices we sing of fraternity, the indelible comradely of all citizens. To begin tonight's program we will enjoy a performance of The Flag Song of the Navy performed by Emily Jean Clementine and Sarah Conrad of Eagle Creek."

The audience laughed. Dennis waved.

"Ladies and Gentleman without further ado, I present Emily Jean Clementine and Sarah Conrad."

She began clapping; the audience caught the cue and clapped as well.

Emily and Sarah ran on to the stage. As they hurried it suddenly occurred to Sarah that the stage had just been waxed. Sarah's attempt to stop her slide using the edge of the piano almost resulted in leaving her with both feet in the air. Instead she just ended up with one shoe aloft, and a graceful scream of   "Ahhh!"

Emily was far less refined. Her attempt to halt forward momentum left her drifting passed the microphone. The audience clearly heard her say, "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" as she zoomed off stage right.

She retuned a second later, Dennis had caught her.

She enjoyed being carried in Dennis' arms. She had a big grin and was kicking her heels. When he let her down she kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you."

Sarah put her face over her hands. "Emily!"

Emily pointed to Dennis as he walked off stage, "That's Dennis Humphries, Lynn's boyfriend. He is a cutie, isn't he ladies?"

The women cheered.

Sarah did a brief fanfare on the piano. Emily cleared her throat.

"The United States of America is one of only a few nations which does not have a national anthem. Each branch of our armed forces has a song which they use for flag raising ceremonies. On July 27, 1889, Benjamin Tracy, Secretary of the Navy, signed General Order #374 which made this song, the official flag song of the Navy.

O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?"

The audience gave them a standing ovation. Emily curtseyed, Sarah stood up and bowed.

Lynn joined them on stage. "Thank you, Sarah; hands off my boyfriend, Emily."

The audience responded with boisterous laughs.

"Tonight you will hear an amazing variety of music styles: contemporary, traditional and classical. Between each session by a performer there will be an intermission of five minutes.

The River City Orchestra, under the conduction of Alton Teddlie will perform a collection of the works of John Philip Sousa including The Stars And Stripes Forever and the operetta Dwellers of the Western World.

River City Rag Band, under the leadership of Dennis Humphries…" as soon as she said his name some of the ladies hooted and hollered, "hey, hey, hey, he is my man and I ain't sharing him!"

The audience laughed.

"Dennis and his friends will perform Let Me Call You Sweetheart and Meet Me To-night In Dreamland as well as other popular songs.

Sounds of Sheridan, a barbershop quartet under the direction of Julius Marx will perform the songs, Play That Barbershop Cord and Constantly.

Karl Alexandru, from Whitetail, will perform Mult Ma, a traditional Bocet: a lamentation from Romania.

Nathaniel Martin, Turner Bivins and Leah Casteel of River City will perform The Lowest Trees Have Tops and Walsingham by John Dowland.

Tom "Red" Brown and his band will perform You're a Grand Old Flag as well as some selected works from a new music genre called Ratty.

The evening will close with our Jamboree. Anyone in the audience who has an instrument will be welcomed to come up on stage and perform."

The music rang until 10 pm; Lynn went home just before midnight. She was overjoyed with the response of the audience.

Two issues concerned her as she lay in bed. She still did not have a harpsichord. There was a divide among the Sioux in the nearby Fort Peck Reservation. Some of the elders consider the performance of their music in front of a predominately white crowd to be sacrilegious.

In spite of the potential tumult, she remained confident that those issues would somehow resolve themselves. She retained her faith in Dennis and the town itself.