The Vaudeville Star

A slender man with black hair parted down the middle emerged. As soon as he saw Bessie, he smiled. “Miss Moore. A pleasure.”

“Please, Ezra. I’ve told you to call me Bessie.”

“Bessie. How may I help you and your friend?” he asked politely.

“This is Ruby. Ruby, Ezra. He owns the finest music shop in Manhattan.”

Ezra grinned at the compliment. “Well, if Miss Bessie says it, then it must be so.”

“I’m looking for some sheet music. Perhaps something that is not overly used. Something special,” Ruby told him.

Ezra nodded and moved to the back of his shop. He brought forth an unopened box and set it before the ladies on his counter.

“You ladies look well this morning,” he said shyly, though his eyes were entirely focused on Bessie, who smiled back at him.

He opened the box, and a dozen or so sheets of music spilled forth. Together, the three of them began to look through the songs.

“No, that won’t do,” Bessie said, tossing aside a minstrel song.

They discarded one after the other until Ezra stopped.

“How about this one?” he asked, holding up the sheet music to a song called “Mighty Lak' a Rose,” which was very new.

Ruby looked it over and smiled. “Can you play it? Let me give it a try.”

Ezra moved to the upright piano and placed the sheet music on it. He began to play the simple piece, and Ruby sang the song but in a lower key so that it was not so shrill and high.

“Sweetest l'il feller, Everybody knows; Dunno what to call him, But he mighty lak' a rose!

Lookin' at his Mammy, Wid eyes so shiny blue, Mek' you think that heav'n, Is comin' clost-ter you!

W'en he's a dar a-sleepin', In his li'l place, Think I see de angels, Lookin' thro' de lace.

When de dark is fallin', When de shadders creep, Den dey comes on tiptoe, Ter kiss 'im in his sleep. Sweetest l'il feller, Everybody knows; Dunno what to call him, But he mighty lak' a rose!

“Ruby,” Bessie said softly. “You can sing.”

Ruby smiled. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“I think it’s perfect for you. It’s written in the dialect style, but you can change that. Sing it normally, and it will be lovely,” Bessie told her.

“I agree. It’s perfect for you.” Ezra nodded.

“I’ll take it,” she said.

That night, Ruby studied the sheet music for “Mighty Lak' a Rose.” It wasn’t a difficult song, and once it was sung normally without the dialect, and in a lower voice register, it was quite pretty. She didn’t know when the time would come, but when it did, she wanted to be ready. She wanted to show Vernon and the other troupers that she could sing. She wanted to be a true part of the show. She wanted to be a performer.

She tried to save as much of her wages as she could. She had the savings she had brought with her from Connecticut, and she didn’t spend any money on dresses, hats, or gloves, and though she loved pretty ribbons in her hair, she denied herself this small pleasure. She must conserve her money until she was making more.

One of the things Ruby loved to do was visit the theater before performances. Sometimes she would go to the theater very early and wander the length of the long aisle and walk the stage alone in the dark. The stagehands ignored her, or maybe they thought she was simple. She didn’t care. It was the calm before the storm that she enjoyed. She never saw any of the other performers. They usually arrived an hour or so before they were to perform.

As she stepped onstage, she looked around and saw no one about. The audience was dark, and one spotlight was directed at the stage, though Ruby stood to the left of it. She made a small curtsy and smiled to herself. She was behaving silly, but she liked it. The thrill of being watched by so many eyes must be exhilarating.

When she began to sing, it was as light as a whisper: “Sweetest little feller, Everybody knows, Don’t know what to call him, but he’s mighty like a rose,” her voice trembled a bit, but she kept singing until she grew stronger.

She only sang another line before she heard voices backstage and moved quickly offstage so as not to be discovered.

“Christ! He’s postponed our meeting twice, and now he wants me to attend some blasted party tomorrow,” Vernon cursed as he read the telegram out loud to Max.