Books › Blue Book v050 n04 [1930-02], 1930 › scan 61
Scan 61
Blue Book v050 n04 [1930-02], 1930
36 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
3was skilled only in "Turkey in the Straw" on the whang-harp. And between the two a great gulf was fixed which no amount of musical stalling could bridge in time now!
5"Whut make yo' eyes stick out so fur, nigger?" Gladstone gave the first intimation that Ipecac's inward turmoil was producing outward symptoms.
7"Jes' thinkin' 'bout somep'n," moaned Ipecac, sparring for time.
9"You got plenty think 'bout now widout addin' nothin' extra," commented Gladstone sagely. "Wid yo' wife fixin' come aft' you if you aint git back de fifty from Dinghouse—an' not no Dinghouse heah—you best lay off dem new thinkin's, boy,—you got plenty old ones to 'tend to yit."
11Sickened, Ipecac agreed. Here he had devoted twenty-four precious hours, besides, to getting up a scheme that wouldn't work; to organizing a band whose members could not play the same tune at the same—or any other—time! Not to speak of the injection into the situation of a one-man rival seeking the same engagement on a close margin of profit. . . . .
13And over, under, and through the misery of Ipecac ran the ceaseless thump and tinkle and plink of Henry's mechanical piano, proclaiming the power of credit as it pounded away above the soul-rending odors of bacon and coffee and griddle-cakes that also issued from his restaurant.
15Ginfoots awaited them sourly. His barbecue-stand was empty, his cook idle, while customers fought for seats in the rival establishment where credit had been crystallized into music. Nor could he find anything in the outer appearance of the approaching bandsmen to inspire cheer. Sleeping in the railway yards had made them none the nattier.
17"Is breakfas' ready yit?" Mr. Ingalls finished ruining the morning for his future employer.
19"Dat's a hell of a way to staht work!" complained Mr. Alexander.
21"Cain't play good on no empty stomach," argued Ipecac as he headed unerringly for the nearest knife and fork.
23"You done e't up a week's wages a'ready!" further mourned Mr. Alexander twenty minutes later as he watched a bus-boy develop fallen arches from carrying away emptied plates. "Now loosen up wid de music!"
25Gladstone's feet made frenzied movements on the floor. In a minute more it would be every man for himself here! Things were getting right down to a climax where he either had to make Dixie sound like "Turkey in the Straw," or Ipecac had to make the Turkey tune sound like "Dixie." Musically, and from a health-and-accident standpoint, it was a ticklish situation. Therefore Gladstone divided his gaze anxiously between the door and the face of the band's business-manager. If Ipecac's brain were in running order there could never be a better time for it to function.
27For his part Ginfoots was betraying increasing signs of impatience. Too much time had elapsed between eating and paying—or playing.
29Reading his thoughts, the despairing Mr. Ingalls grasped wretchedly at the first idea that floated his way. "Us plays 'Tu'key in de Straw' firs'," he stalled as he struggled in mock difficulty with the clasps of his ill-starred violin-case.
31Gladstone grew gray-faced and slid a foot nearer an exit, fiddling nervously with his drum-sticks. Only "Dixie" could keep him out of the hospital now—and Ipecac was proposing "Turkey in the Straw!" Doors and windows began to look better and better to Gladstone: they led to elsewhere. But in looking before he leaped, Gladstone developed a new complication for himself. He saw too much. Right outside the door was a sight to cause him to stiffen in terror; hadn't so much been getting ready to happen in Demopolis since Gladstone could remember. Worse, it was too late to do anything about it now!
33Ipecac couldn't have picked a worse moment, in that respect, for his violin-case to open. But he couldn't fool forever. And open it flew, to reveal, all but lost in one corner, the lowly whang-harp.
35The effect on Ginfoots was bad—distinctly bad. Face, manner, and movement toward a baseball bat behind the counter all indicated his view that he had been imposed upon. Ipecac felt acutely the need of diversion—for Mr. Alexander. Recollections of something the white folks had said about the power of music to soothe the savage breast recurred in a most timely way to Mr. Ingalls. With the dash and fury of a virtuoso, Ipecac flung himself into melody, leaving Gladstone stranded upon the musical shore. Ginfoots' good right hand closed upon the baseball bat, and Ipecac achieved a fortissimo hither-
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