Books › Blue Book v050 n04 [1930-02], 1930 › scan 57
Scan 57
Blue Book v050 n04 [1930-02], 1930
48 lines. Read by computer on 17 September 2026. No printed page number was found. See the scan on archive.org.
1Alexander's One-Man Band
3The first idea that Gladstone had had in over four years struck him just here like a ton of brick. Even a stranger like Ipecac could tell that something unusual had befallen Gladstone. The return of coherence indicated itself as sure to be well worth waiting for.
5At length it came. "I—I—I still got half-int'est in dat big bass drum dat I gits from Doc Em'son once!" Gladstone finally managed to enunciate.
7Ipecac felt that the mountain had brought forth a mouse. "Yeah, an' I knows nigger whut owns all of a good garbage-route up in Bumin'ham, too!" he countered unimpressed. "But whut ol' drum got do wid us eatin'?"
9"Listen an' nourish yo'se'f, boy!" persisted Gladstone. "Whut good is half a drum do by hitse'f? An' whut you git fo' ol' whang-harp, is you try sell hit, cep'n a big laugh in de face? But s'posen us git up a band wid 'em?"
11Ipecac's stomach interrupted his brain by cheering wildly. Even more quickly than his startled intellect, it recognized a sound idea connected with eating.
13And, "Whut you killin' all dis heah time fo'?" he turned sharply on the self-confessed owner of the drum.
15"Whut time?" Gladstone lumbered on in his intellectual rear.
17"Waitin' round so long befo' you stahts after yo' drum, dat's whut! I done been heah all mawnin' wid de whang-harp, an' heah 'tis 'way past dinner-time an' all you done done 'bout dat drum is talk! Git action, boy—git action! Ol' band r'arin' to hire out, an' you late wid de drum!"
19Ipecac's anxiety and appetite were infectious. Gladstone grew guilty over his delay. He saw now that a boy ought to go about with his drum more—never could tell when he was liable to need it in a hurry.
21"Don't stray off none," he advised his fellow-musician. "An' when you sees de dust risin' round Hogan's Alley, git ready wid de gangway: dat be me an' de drum!"
23"Boy, foller de whang-harp to vittles!" proclaimed Ipecac hopefully. "An' 'member I's de business man'ger dis heah band. Bass drummers gits kind of numb 'bove de neck from bein' round de big noise so 'much."
25GLADSTONE hung up a new round-trip record for a tall boy carrying a bass drum on the return trip. And he had an idea and a half now. When old brain started to working, looked like it didn't know when to quit! Hence his proud display of what the half idea had evolved—an old violin-case, empty.
27"Put yo' whang-harp in de fiddle-case when us hires out," he advised Mr. Ingalls. "Makes de band look bigger to carry de whang-harp prominent dat way."
29"Keep dat bass drum out yo' pants pocket—you might lose hit," countered the business-manager sarcastically. "Rest'rans needs music: us needs vittles. Li'ble make trade wid dat pickle-face' boy settin' out front on dat box yander."
31Gladstone gazed box-ward and grew pessimistic. "Aint no percentage in messin' wid dat Ginfoots nigger up dar," he objected. "He done choke fo' eagles to death now squeezin' de two-bitses whut dey on, so tight! Ev'ry time he puts out dey has to give him somep'n first to put him to sleep so he wont hu't so bad."
33"So dawggone hongry I cain't pass no rest'rans," demurred Ipecac. "Dat nigger need a band, too: Look how all dem big-eatin' boys flockin' round de place wid de pianner 'cross de way! Dat huccome dat other place git so much money to pay fo' pianners. Music pay fo' hitse'f."
35"Henry Roebuck aint pay fo' hit," corrected Gladstone. "He git hit on credit—dime a day keep de muddyfoots away. Us call collectuhs 'muddyfoots,' down heah."
37"Ginfoots c'n make a better deal wid me," persisted Ipecac. "Swap rations fo' music, an' den it wont hu't him so bad when he pay off."
39Gladstone's digestive apparatus nudged him sharply as Ipecac made this point. It seemed sound. "You's de business-man'ger," he weakened. "An' is you pull dis deal, I'll tell de world you is!"
41Ipecac gripped the violin-case enclosing his whang-harp. Gladstone poised his forty-two-inch bass drum on the concavity that starvation had made of his stomach. Two abreast, the newly-formed band approached employment and eating as personified for them by Mr. Ginfoots Alexander.
43"Aint no luck to none dem playin' pianners," Ipecac opened negotiations delicately.
45Ginfoots openly held the same views for five minutes.
47"But a band, now," resumed Ipecac at their close, "dat's different."
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