Watch Yourself Go By

A >> Al. G. Field >> Watch Yourself Go By

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"Wall, ef you'll put up the money with the landlord, I'll take ye out
an' ef ye don't ye can hoof it," was the teamster's reply. Turning to
the bar-tender, he said: "Give me a little more licker."

The last demand of the teamster was not an unreasonable one and it would
not look well to refuse it. Alfred hotly replied: "You'll get your money
when you do your work; I would not put up five cents for you while you
are drinking whiskey."

This angered the old fellow. He sneeringly replied: "I pay fur my licker
an' it's nun uf yer dam business how much I drink uf it."

Through the window Alfred discerned a team and sled driving by. Rushing
out he discovered that it was his Uncle Jack Craft. The two families
were not on speaking terms and had not been for a long time.

Alfred shouted: "Ho, Uncle! Ho, Uncle! Hold on; pull up, I want to see
you."

The uncle seemed more than glad to have Alfred approach him. He did not
even wait to hear the whole of the story Alfred had to tell of Frazier's
meanness. Driving his much larger and more stylish conveyance alongside
Frazier's rig, the passengers and baggage were transferred before
Frazier realized what had transpired. As he emerged from the hotel he
was met with jeers from the troupe as they started off up the old pike,
not so rapidly as Alfred and Uncle Joe once traversed it on Black Fan,
but at a pace that put all in good humor.

Alfred sat on the front seat holding his little brother and Charley
Wagner's violin. It was not solicitude for the safety of the instrument
that prompted him to persuade Wagner to permit him to hold it. He
figured that if Wagner balked when Lin got in the sled at the top of the
hill he would be better entrenched to argue with the obstinate leader
with the violin in _his_ hands.

When Lin hailed them by shouting: "How-dye, how's the minstrels?" all
greeted her cordially. Alfred had his eye on the leader. While he was
not as cordial in his greetings as the others, he smiled and returned
Lin's salutations.

Alfred explained jokingly that Lin came along to take care of little Joe
and to help Lize Eagle out with the supper.

The party was a merry one and everyone they met was the butt of their
mirth. Old man Bedler at the toll gate passed the party free and wished
Alfred all kinds of good luck. The old German's voice trembled and a
tear rolled down his bronzed cheek as he shook hands with Alfred and
said: "Good luck! Ef my poor Billy was only here he'd be with you."

He referred to his only son who was drowned a few months previously.
Alfred had assisted in recovering the body and the old toll-gate keeper
had the kindliest feelings for him.

It did not require long to arrange the stage and place the few
properties. Lin was everywhere busy at all times.

The widow Eagle's humble home was only a short distance from the
school-house. Supper was called and Lin and Charley Wagner were seen
coming from the school-house together joking and laughing. Lin had
captivated the leader. Lin refused to sit at the first table, she
declared she would wait and eat with Mrs. Eagle and Mary Emily, the
daughter. Meanwhile, she busied herself waiting on the table. She was
markedly attentive to the leader, filling his plate even when he
protested that he had more than enough.

The leader was an old bachelor. When he got the wishbone of the chicken
all insisted that Lin and he pull it. When the leader got the short
piece all laughed and joked him; all the party was jolly. No. There was
one who was not, although he endeavored to conceal it by laughs and
remarks. Lin knew that Alfred was nervous and worried. He was in doubt
as to the receipts covering expenses; he was in doubt as to the show
pleasing. In fact, he was suffering the tortures all have endured--who
have a conscience--who ever produced a public entertainment.

The curtain went up, or rather was pulled aside, on Alfred's first
minstrel show. Seated in the semi-circle were Billy Storey, bones and
stump speech; Amity Getter, interlocutor or middleman, vocalist and
guitar player; the Acklin Brothers, vocalists; Billy Woods, flute and
piccolo, guitar and vocalist; Charles Wagner, violin; Billy Hyatt, clog
and jig dancer; Tommy White, clog and jig dancer, and Alfred, singer,
dancer, comedian, stage manager, property man and superintendent of
wardrobe.

The little school-house was packed--sitting, standing and leaning room
was all taken, even the window-sills were occupied.

Lin, seated near the stage, was lost in amazement at the improvement in
the troupe. Her head nodded and foot patted in time with the tunes with
which she was familiar. When Storey and Alfred concluded their double
song and dance, (this was a new number to Lin), she led the applause and
hustled Uncle Jack back of the scenes requesting the boys repeat the
number. Alfred had profited by reading the book Harrison had presented
him.

The song and music made a very great impression on Lin. Late and early
you could hear her voice as she went about her work singing:

"I feel just as happy as a big sunflower,
that bows and bends in the breezes,
And my heart is as light as the winds that
blow the leaves from off the treeses"

There was but one mishap that marred the evening's performance. The
front curtain was run on rings, on a small, tight wire stretched across
the entire width of the school house. The curtain that formed a
background of the stage, and behind which the performers dressed, was
much too heavy for the small nails with which it was secured. Someone
pulled on the curtain and down it came. Alfred and one or two others
were changing their costumes. Alfred with surprising nimbleness jumped
into a large trunk, concealing himself so quickly that the audience
caught sight of only his feet as he plunged head first into the trunk.
The other two members were completely confused and ran into a corner
turning their backs to the audience.

[Illustration: Hatfield and Storey]

Dr. John Davidson and Othey Brashears were seated in the front row,
grabbed the curtain and held it head high until all were costumed. It
was then replaced and the show went on.

Lin, in commenting on what Alfred considered the most unfortunate
accident that ever befell his show, said: "Well, ye jus couldn't call
hit a back-set to the show, kase peepul laffed more about hit then
anythin' else in the hull thing."

When the last note of the walk around had died out, the audience
remained seated, waiting for more, (printed programs were unknown in
those days). Getty went before the curtain and announced that the show
was over. The crowd began to disperse; the boys from town and some of
the country folks forced their way behind the scenes to congratulate
Alfred, all declaring that it was the best entertainment they had ever
witnessed.

One over-enthusiastic young fellow offered the leader two dollars to
have fiddlers play for a dance; in fact many of the young folks desired
to turn it into a dance. This seemed like desecration to Alfred and
forever after he respected the dignified farmer, Washington Brashears,
who, standing stately and tall, with the beard of a patriarch, in a
voice mild but firm, said: "We have been entertained by our young friend
and his companions in a way that it falls to the lot of but few to
enjoy; only those in Filidelphy have the privilege of enjoying such
exhibitions as we have enjoyed here tonight. As the chairman of the
board of school directors, I can say that we permitted the use of this
school-house for the entertainment. It is our only meeting house now,
and there will be preaching here next Sunday evening, therefore we
cannot permit dancing tonight."

The nearly ice cold, spring water influenced Alfred to go home with the
black on his face. The little party and belongings were soon loaded into
the roomy sled. Bidding goodnight to the few friends who remained to see
them off, they headed homeward.

It was a happy party that sped along the old pike. Lin led in the
singing of songs long since discarded by the minstrels. Even Uncle Jack
entered into the jollity of the occasion. He was greatly elated over the
success of the show.

The spirited team was traveling much faster than safety demanded. At a
turn in the road there was a treacherous, slippery place, the sled swung
around sideways--skidded would explain the motion--one runner slipped
over the edge of the bank, the sleigh turned upside down throwing out
the cargo of human freight.

Lin's scream could be heard half a mile. Alfred's only solicitude was
for his brother Joe. Uncle Jack held on to the team which was released
from the sled by the breaking of the pole. After the occupants
extricated themselves it was found that the only serious damage suffered
was the breaking of Amity Getty's fine guitar.

[Illustration]

It required the combined strength of all to right the sled and get it up
the steep bank to the roadway. The tongue or pole was made fast to the
sled with rope and the journey resumed. Up hill, all could ride; down
hill all were compelled to walk and hold the sled off the heels of the
horses, as the broken pole would not permit the team to hold back.

It was two o'clock in the morning when the welcome lights of the town
shone on the belated minstrels. Alfred was too tired and sleepy and the
water too cold to wash the black off his face. He crept upstairs to the
big room rarely occupied. Not answering the breakfast bell, Sister
Lizzie was sent up to call him. One glance at the black face on the
pillow sent her scampering down the stairs.

"I believe brother Alfred has brought a darkey home with him. There's
one in the big bed any way."

This sent the father upstairs by bounds. Alfred was unceremoniously
yanked out of bed and shoved down stairs. When he appeared in the
kitchen such laughter as greeted him would have pleased him greatly the
night before. Alfred explaining all the while that it was too cold to
wash the black off his face the night before and that he couldn't get it
off with cold water "no how."

The father insisted that he go to the back yard and scrub his face with
cold water as punishment for going to bed blacked up.

To Lin's question as to how much he had made the night before Alfred
gave evasive replies. Hastily eating his breakfast he was quickly on his
way to Win Scott's home.

Before he had proceeded far on his way he met his pal Scott on his way
to Alfred's home. Alfred judged from the size of the audience that there
was not only sufficient money in Win's hands to pay all obligations but
also a handsome surplus. He was simply crushed to learn that the
receipts amounted to just $16.75.

Alfred felt that he would be everlastingly disgraced when he announced
that he was not able to pay the debts incurred. The boys conferred long
and earnestly. Win proposed that they pay Lin and Uncle Jack and then
run off; go to the newly discovered oil country and make their fortunes.

This proposition was rejected by Alfred. To go to the oil regions was a
pet idea of the older boy and it was not long ere he left the old town
to seek his fortune and Alfred never saw him afterwards.

Alfred took the money. When he reached home he settled with Lin in full.
Uncle Jack was handed his four dollars by Alfred with the air of a
millionaire. After paying Lin and Uncle Jack, Alfred had $6.75 left,
with debts to the amount of $31.75 pressing him, or they would be the
next day.

He retired to his room. He could plainly hear Lin describing and
praising the performance. She dwelt at length on the high quality of
the gathering, saying that all the best people in Red Stone section were
there. When Lin wondered what Alfred would do next, now that he had
money, Alfred felt like rushing from the house to seek his pal and flee
to the oil regions.

He opened the front door and walked out without any idea of where he was
going. He walked aimlessly and found himself on Church Street where
Sammy Steele overtook him on his way to church.

The Reverend Kerr was pastor, the father of E. M. Kerr, afterwards noted
in the minstrel profession as E. M. Kayne.

When Mr. Steele asked Alfred if he were on his way to church, Alfred
answered: "Yes." The two walked to the church together and home after
the sermon was over. On the way the tanner described in detail the
improvements he was making in his plant and invited Alfred to accompany
him to the tannery to look over the work under way.

In those days everybody ate dinner at high noon. Alfred was impatient at
the seeming delay of Lin in serving the meal. Lin remarked: "Ye're jus
like every man thet gits to makin' money, figity."

Alfred arrived at the tannery long before the owner. The suction pumps
and other labor saving devices were examined and explained to Alfred who
pretended to be deeply interested. After all had been explained, they
found themselves in the big finishing room where Alfred had passed so
many pleasant days and evenings.

The boy wished that he was back in the tannery free from the cares
hanging over him. Finally, he looked his former employer full in the
face and, in a voice full of earnestness, asked the big, dignified man
for the loan of thirty dollars, promising to work it out night and day
until it was paid in full.

He dwelt at length on the shame that would come to him if he could not
meet his obligations. "If you will help me out of this I will never
forget you and you will never regret it," concluded Alfred.

The straightforward man of business complimented Alfred for his anxiety
to pay his debts, at the same time pointing out to him the danger of
contracting debts he could not meet; that an honest man never had peace
of mind when in debt; that a man was never as brave or useful to himself
or family as when free of the haunting fear of losing his standing
through debt.

He told Alfred to meet him at 7 o'clock the next morning and he would
give him his answer. After a sleepless night Alfred was at the tannery
on time. Mr. Steele was there when he arrived and greeted him kindly.

Noting Alfred's worried expression, he said: "There is no use worrying
over affairs of this kind; the proper course is to steer clear of them,
which I think you will do after this."

Alfred assured him that he would be sure to do so. The tanner handed
Alfred a paper, requesting him to read it carefully. Alfred could
scarcely believe his eyes as he read:

"In consideration of $30 to me in hand paid, the receipt of
which is hereby acknowledged, I hereby agree to bind myself to
work for Samuel Steele for a period of two months, performing
such duties as he may direct...."

Alfred studied a moment and said: "I do not mind any work you may put on
me and I will work all day and part of the night, but if you would only
let me have the money I can pay you back much sooner out of what I make
at Hurd's. I want to get out of debt and you are the only person in the
world I can go to. I don't want my folks to know of this."

"Then you will not sign the paper?" questioned the tanner.

"I don't like to and it don't seem hardly fair after the wages you paid
me before. Give me a dollar a day and I'll sign it."

Mr. Steele took the paper from Alfred's hand, tore it up and threw it
into the open grate as he said: "My boy, I was only trying you. I wanted
to show you how those in debt are in the power of anyone who is
unscrupulous. If you had signed the paper I would not have had
confidence in you. In fact, I did not intend to permit you to sign it if
you had shown a willingness to do so. I will loan you the money and you
can pay it back to me as you earn it, without interest. Settle with your
creditors and keep out of debt. And furthermore, tell no one that I
loaned you this money, and never borrow another dollar unless you see a
way to pay it."

The advice given Alfred by the old tanner has saved him heart aches and
much money.

All the outstanding bills were met. When the members of the troupe
gathered at their room and the final statement laid before them there
was deep silence for a moment. It was a commonwealth arrangement insofar
as the profits were concerned, a one man concern as to the losses.
However, none ever expected a deficiency, each expecting to get quite a
little money for his share.

The members of the troupe sympathized with Alfred. Charley Wagner, who
was the only salaried member, consoled him thusly: "Yah, und ef you ever
go to dot Redstone School-house mit your troupe again you'll git him all
back." How many times Alfred has heard like statements since!

Win Scott explained the small receipts and the large crowd. All the
school directors and their families were to be admitted free. No tickets
were used, the money was taken in at the door. When anyone appeared and
said "school director" or "school director's family," Win passed them
in. It was afterward learned that some of the directors had as many as
thirty in their families the night of the show.

Harry Harrison came forward at this critical period of the minstrel
enterprise and took upon himself the management. Although Alfred had his
misgivings, he was glad to be relieved of the responsibility and to
have the concern continued.

Not a line appeared in the _Clipper_ as to the first show but glowing
accounts of what was to follow were printed weekly. Harrison prevailed
upon the shoemaker to build a small stage in the room the troupe had
rented for rehearsing purposes. Also to move a partition, giving the
minstrels quite a large room which was provided with heat and light.

The announcement was sent forth that the Evening Star Minstrels would
give entertainments every Saturday night at McKernan's Hall, at Barefoot
Square.

Harrison gave no explanation as to why he changed the title of the
company. Story was angry. Alfred was pleased, inwardly congratulating
himself that future deficiencies would have to be made up by Harrison.

The next Saturday night and the following Saturday night saw the little
hall packed. And thus another pang of jealousy will be added to the
heart of Bill Brown, that Brownsville enjoyed the distinction of a
permanent minstrel hall while Pittsburg never had such an institution,
traveling minstrel shows appearing there for only one or two nights in
Masonic Hall.

After several nights of big business several members of the troupe made
inquiries as to the funds and their disposition. At first Harrison was
very courteous and explained that the establishing and opening of the
hall was expensive; that later on when well established, Jeffres Hall
would be secured and nightly dividends would be paid.

Charley Wagner, true to the traditions of history handed down from the
days of Babylon, namely, that musicians are the first to stir discord,
laid down his fiddle and bow and declared: "No more music until we get
our money." It then developed that nothing had been paid in the way of
salaries or other expenses since Harrison had assumed the management.

At this juncture Harrison became insolvent. The landlord locked up the
hall with all the belongings of the troupe nor would he release the
goods until the rent was paid in full. Harrison was appealed to. He
sneered at the impecunious minstrels and taunted them by saying: "Now go
get your stuff out. If you all hadn't been so peart I'd seen you
through."

Each minstrel was compelled to pay his proportionate share of the amount
due for rent and lights. His private property was then delivered to him
by the sporting shoemaker.

When he had collected the rent due him he sent for Harrison, escorted
him into the deserted hall and demanded that he (Harrison) have the
partition replaced in its original location. When Harrison angrily
refused, the shoemaker proceeded to give him a drubbing.

Harrison did not collect anything that week from those to whom he gave
favorable mention in the paper as two black eyes compelled him to keep
close to the office.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

And I would learn to better show
My gratitude for favors had,
To see more of the good below
And less of what I think is bad.
To live not always in the day
To come, and count the joys to be,
But to remember, as I stray,
The past and what is brought to me.

Lured by that feeling which impels the criminal to visit the scene of
his crime, Alfred began a pilgrimage to the little red school-house.
Walking along the old pike the sound of a horse's hoofs beating a tattoo
on the road reached his ears. He recognized in the rider, Joe Thornton.

The white pacing mare which Thornton bestrode had one of those peculiar
high-lifting gaits, that, from the sound of the hoofs on the roadbed,
caused one to imagine that she was going at a very rapid gait, while in
fact she was not doing much more than pounding the road. Uncle Joe said
of her: "She'd pace all day in the shade of a tree."

When opposite Alfred, Mr. Thornton slowed up and made numerous inquiries
as to the minstrel show, expressing regret that he was not able to
attend; he intended going, having received an invitation from one of the
school directors. He requested Alfred to advise him of the next
performance; he would be there sure.

Then, as if to make up for the few moments lost conversing with Alfred,
he gave the mare the word and she pounded the pike more heavily than
before. Alfred admired the big, handsome rider and the white mare; he
longed to bestride her and kept his eyes on horse and rider as they
traveled on before him.

Alfred noticed a black looking object fall to the dusty pike. At the
distance it seemed a large sized shoe. Alfred kept his eyes on the
object as he neared the spot where it lay. Bending over he discovered a
very large, black book. Picking it up he saw bills, money, more money
than the boy had ever held in his hands before. He trembled as he turned
over bill after bill.

He had dreamed that he would be rich--some day in the far future--day
dreams. His riches were always to come. They had come suddenly,
unexpectedly. Mother would have a new cooking stove; Lin declared daily
that the old stove would not bake on the bottom. Brother Joe would have
toys and a sled, Sister Lizzie anything she wanted, Brother Will
anything he needed, a melodeon for Lin. Sammy Steele would be paid with
the same flourish with which Uncle Jack was paid. Harrison would be
deposed, the minstrel troupe would go out, travel to distant parts and
make money, more money than Alfred wanted; he would divide it with all
his best friends, he would make all happy.

With these thoughts flying through his mind he walked on in the
direction the rider had gone. Suddenly realizing that the money was not
his he cast a glance ahead, expecting every moment to see the rider
returning post haste to claim the treasure.

When he reached the lane leading off the pike to the Thornton house, he
hesitated, opened the book again and looked at the money, turning over
the neat layers of bills, fives in one section, tens in another,
twenties in a third, legal looking papers in a fourth, tied about with a
thin, red ribbon.

He thought of concealing the book. No, he would hasten home and conceal
the money in the cow stable. He was opposite the gate of the yard in
which stood the big Thornton house. Should he enter?

Alfred looked long and anxiously for the man on horseback; instead he
noticed a proud looking, elderly lady walking about the flower beds. He
nodded respectfully but the lady did not make a sign of recognition.

However, in quite a loud voice he inquired if Mr. Thornton were at home.

"Which Mr. Thornton? There are two Mr. Thorntons, Russell and Joseph."

"Joseph Thornton," answered Alfred, "is the gentleman I am looking for."

Alfred felt his importance. From down the lane toward the barn there
came the sound of horse's hoofs clattering on the road. Alfred's ears
told him that it was the white pacer.

As the rider caught sight of Alfred he dismounted. Running toward the
boy, his long beard flowing on either side of his neck, he began: "Mr.
Hatfield, did you see--." Here Alfred held up the book to his view.

As he fairly bounded forward, he grasped the book in one hand and threw
an arm around Alfred. He exclaimed: "Where the h--ll did you find it?
It's a good thing for me that you came out the pike; if almost anybody
else had found it I'd never have gotten it back, that is the money; I
never could have traced that. The papers could have been traced. No one
who loses money ever gets it back."

As the man turned the book over in his hand he inquired: "Did you open
it?" Then a little ashamed of the question continued: "Of course you had
to open it, otherwise you wouldn't have known to whom it belonged. Now
see here Alfred, I want to do the right thing by you. I will call at
your house tonight. I want to meet your mother; your father I am well
acquainted with. Your Uncle Will has told me that he is too hard on you
and you're a dam nice boy and you ought to be treated right."

At this insinuation Alfred fired up. "My father always treats me right,
but I've been a pretty bad boy. He has his notions and I've got mine. He
never hits a lick amiss. He never hurts me when he does whip me. It's
always a big laugh to me. He's the kindest pap in Brownsville."

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