Dovetail: A Novel(36)
“He actually goes to the tavern down the street. I know because I smell beer on his breath. He’s always back by the time the picture is finished, though,” she said, as if to offset any objections John might raise. “We scarcely know he’s gone, and then before we know it, he returns, none the worse for wear.” John was amused by Pearl’s abashed explanation. Perhaps in Pullman a man having a beer counted as scandalous behavior? If that were so, the Bennetts would be shocked to know his secret.
On these prior Saturdays, John had not been invited but had watched them depart, Mr. Bennett and Alice in the raised front seat of the wagon, the other six girls sitting on a blanket in the open-air back, the same wagon he and Mr. Bennett used to transport supplies to and from the mill. He realized that first week that there would have been no room for him even if he had been asked, and so he didn’t take it as a personal slight but listened with interest when the girls excitedly told him about the evening after returning home.
The first time, Daisy had come running in to share details about the evening, asking, “Do you know Charlie Chaplin?”
“No,” John replied. “I can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure of making his acquaintance.” His answer made the girls laugh.
“He’s not a real person,” Daisy said, her eyes wide.
Helen said, “She’s asking because his new picture is at our theater.”
“It’s not a new picture,” Pearl said, exasperated. “We never get the new ones. It takes months and months for a new moving picture to get to Wisconsin, and then once they get here, they’re not new anymore. And then they stay for weeks and weeks.”
“Which is a very good thing,” Alice interjected, “because it gives me time to improve my piano playing.” She reached up and pulled a large pin out of her hat, a powder-blue number with a large brim and a fabric rose on the side. She lifted the hat off her head, revealing an elegant roll of hair pinned in place right above her shoulders. John had overhead Pearl say that this style, the Gibson tuck, was all the rage according to the fashion magazines, and Alice had taken to the idea, primarily for its ease, but he loved that this new hairstyle revealed the nape of her neck.
“Charlie Chaplin is so funny,” Daisy said. “Whenever I see him in the picture show, I laugh and laugh. He walks like this.” She illustrated a silly walk, almost falling over in the process.
“Someday I will have to see that for myself,” John said with a smile. It was the polite thing to say, but he didn’t actually think it would happen.
Just the next week, though, Mr. Bennett took him aside and asked if he would do him a favor. “Would you mind taking the girls to the motion picture?” he asked. “My back is giving me a bit of trouble, and it could use a rest.”
“Of course. I’d be happy to.”
Mr. Bennett said, “Alice can show you where the girls sit inside the theater. For propriety’s sake, it would be best if you sat in the row in front of them.” He added hurriedly, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, you understand, it’s just . . .”
“That people talk?”
The older man nodded. “That they do.”
John knew full well how small-minded people with time on their hands could make trouble for others. It was a shame, but that was the way of the world.
At the appropriate time, he hitched up the two horses and helped the girls into the wagon. Alice sat up front in her usual spot, the others in back. As Pearl began to climb up, she pretended to lose her balance and fell backward into his arms. “Excuse me,” she cried out, arms flailing. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
John wordlessly guided her back into the wagon and then helped Helen, Emma, Mae, and Maude. He lifted Daisy last, handing her to the outstretched arms of Helen, Daisy’s second-choice sister. Their father sternly told them to mind their manners that evening, and with a shake of the reins, off they went.
The drive to town went without incident, and John parked the wagon around back, following Alice’s directions. Because Alice was the piano player, the family was allowed to enter from the alley, bypassing the ticket counter. Daisy pulled John along by one finger, eager to show him where they always sat. “What if someone is already sitting in your seats when you get here?” he asked, watching as people filtered in through the double doors.
“Everyone knows not to sit in those seats,” Helen said. “The whole town knows this is where the Bennetts sit.”
Emma pointed. “John, look, they have electric lights here.” She pointed to the high ceiling. A large crystal chandelier hung from the center, and mounted directly above it was a bronze medallion decorated with a gold leaf pattern.
“Pretty fancy,” he said with a smile.
“This whole building used to be a ballroom,” Emma explained. “People would come here for weddings and elegant dances. The new owner converted it into a movie theater. It was quite exciting to finally have one right in town.”
The theater was equipped with a raised stage, originally used for the orchestra when the building was a ballroom. A row of spotlights along the front had once been used for plays, or perhaps plays were still held there. The dark-colored stage curtains had been pulled back, revealing a large screen, and off to the left, below the screen, sat an upright piano, a small electric light aimed at the keys.