American Dreams (8 page)

'When are you leaving?'

Fritzi felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. 'Right after Christmas. I've told Mama. She doesn't like it, but she won't stand in the way. Papa's the obstacle. I've promised myself I'd tell him before the holiday. I dread it.'

Carl shot the ball over his shoulder onto the grass, put his brawny arm around her. 'I'm not too qualified to give advice, but I will anyway. You know Pop will probably rant. He's stuck in the past in some ways. Every woman needs a wedding ring and children, that kind of thing. Well, sure --

if it suits you. But I think you're kind of like me, Fritzi. A maverick - that's what they call wild steers in Texas, I read it in the Police Gazette. We both I

Obligatory Scene

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, I

have different dreams. They're not like Pop's when he came to this coun try

a poor boy eager to make a fortune. We're living in an incredible new century. All the rules have changed. Did you see that little black car that putted by a while ago? Henry Ford introduced them this year, and he's already sold more than a thousand. I pity the fellow with a buggy whip factory, because all the rules.have changed. Including Pop's. So don't be talked or bullied out of your dream.' He pointed at the pale sky in the east.

'If your dream's there, sail out and find it.'

He planted a chaste kiss on her cheek.

'Promise me you will.'

'I do, Carl, I do -- bless you! You give me the extra courage I need. It won't be easy facing him.'

Carl ambled over to pick up the ball. He,tossed it to her underhand.

'Just remember, Pop respects strength. If your knees quake, don't let him see. You can do it. Hell, sis, you're an actress, aren't you? Act!'

She ran to him. 'Oh, Carl. "What impossible matter will he make easy next?"'

'Huh? What's that?'

'A line spoken by a character named Antonio, in The Tempest. Act two, scene one. Fits you perfectly,' she exclaimed, throwing her arms around I

him. With thoughtless enthusiasm Carl wrapped her in a huge hug that left
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her breathless and gasping, but braver and more confident than she'd felt for days.

9 Obligatory Scene

T!

The season's frenzy consumed the household. Fritzi plunged into Christmas shopping, dashing through Marshall Field's and the Fair and Carson's in search of presents. She spent carefully from her savings,

' r B holding back forty dollars for a ticket to New York and subsistence until 1 8 sne f°und work.

Every morning lisa dashed off to shop, or help with children's parties at Hull House, or socialize with her wealthy friends. Nearly every night she and the General went out to a party or banquet. Joe Junior either disappeared after supper or didn't come home from work at all, leaving Carl 42

Dreamers

and Fritzi to play checkers and talk for hours. Joe Junior came home long after everyone was in bed.

The Crowns attended Sunday services at St. Paul's Lutheran together, again without Joey. Nor did he join them in the music room when Fritzi played carols and the General sang in his strong baritone voice and Carl bellowed like an enthusiastic but tone-deaf steer.

Wednesday of the week before Christmas -- all four Advent candles glowed on the dining table now -- Fritzi went to the depot to buy a ticket on the New York Central's Empire State Express. 'One way, day coach, please.' She would not spend money for a berth. The Mortmain company had given her a great deal of experience with sitting up all night; she knew how to race for a seat nearest the stove, and use available newspapers for covers.

She constantly rehearsed what she wanted to say to her father, but put off the actual encounter. Joe Crown did have a temper. That fact tempted her to flee without facing him. Couldn't she resort to a letter?

No, said Ellen Terry, most emphatically:

You know that in any well-wrought drama, certain obligatory scenes must be played because everything previous leads up to them. To omit them
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is a cheat. It's the same in a family. Your father is not some minor character to be dismissed offstage with a few lines in a scented envelope.

The other reason you must speak to him is personal. Cowardice doesn't become members of this family, including you.

All right, she would do it Saturday, before the family left to attend the annual party for employees of the brewery. The General paid for the event every year.

She was up early that day, her stomach on fire, her palms already damp. She began to dress about four. It was a clear, cold afternoon, with a few winter stars already showing beyond her bedroom window. She struggled into her gown, red satin with a deep lace bertha. lisa had bought her the dress for last year's party.

Groping at the nape of her neck, she closed the clasp on the pearl dog collar choker borrowed from her mother. Then she yanked a comb through her tangled hair. Her hair reminded her of frayed yellow rope. She threw the comb at the glass and stuck out her tongue.

A clock on the mantel of the small fireplace showed half past four. Her father had announced their departure time as six o'clock. Fritzi supposed the General would drive them to Swabian Hall in the Welch; the streets were dry.

Obligatory Scene

43

She heard a heavy tread in the upstairs hall, ran to the door.

'Papa! You're home early.'

'Yes, I managed to get away.'

'Could I speak to you a moment?' Her heartbeat was thunder in her ears.

'Why, of course,' he said with a benign smile. 'Shall I come in?'

'It might be better if we go down to your office.'

'Whatever you prefer.' He offered his arm at the head of the stairs. 'You look very fetching. You'll be the belle of the party.'

'Hardly.' Nervous, she almost stumbled twice on the long descent past the stunning Christmas tree.

In the office, Joe Crown drew the visitor's chair away from the wall.

Outside, the deep blue shadows of Illinois winter shrouded the grounds.

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Bare tree limbs shook in a lake wind.

Fritzi sat on the forward edge of the chair, clasped her hands in her lap to keep them still. Stage fright! She couldn't remember Carl's words of encouragement.

I

'Now, my girl. What's on your mind?'

'Plans, Papa. I want to tell you my plans.'

'Please do,' he said, smiling again. He crossed his legs, folded his hands over the little paunch developing at his middle. She smelled beer along with his hair lotion. Perhaps he'd celebrated a bit at the brewery. He seemed in a fine mood.

'I'm going to New York,' she said.

His forehead wrinkled. 'How interesting. You're going to shop?'

'To live. To look for work in the theater.'

Somewhere in the west, dying daylight broke out beneath clouds, striking the office window and painting it red. Joe Crown never changed his posture or expression. Yet Fritzi fancied the blood left his cheeks.

'I see. Well. It's good you told me.'

He crossed to the door, which stood open a few inches. He closed it with a dungeon-like bang. He stood with his back to the window and his feet wide apart, like a military officer. She could see nothing but a black silhouette against a rectangle of red.

'When did you decide this, may I ask?'

¦

'Some time ago. I bought my railway ticket Wednesday'

'Let's discuss this reasonably.' He still sounded calm and, if not exactly friendly, then not antagonistic either. She was emboldened.

'With all respect, Papa, discussion isn't necessary.'

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Dreamers

'Permit me to disagree. It isn't healthy for a girl your age to venture to New York for a career in a dubious and risky profession. A career that might not exist at all.'

'Carl's going to Detroit without the promise of a job. You approve of that.'

'Carl is a man. It makes a difference.'

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'Oh, Papa. That's so old-fashioned.' The challenge to his authority was blurted without thought; she was angry.

His voice remained steady, controlled: 'New York's a filthy, wretched city, I've seen it many times. It's dangerous for a single woman. Go to a public theater' - he gestured energetically, warming to his case - 'as innocent people went to the rooftop theater at Madison Square Garden last summer, and it's you and not Stanford White who might be shot down by a jealous madman. It simply isn't safe, Fritzi. Please reconsider.'

He

was adamant. Well, so was she:

'I've considered it carefully, Papa. I'm just informing you as a courtesy.'

'How thoughtful,' he replied, with real rancor.

'You know Broadway is the only theater that matters. If I don't find out whether I can succeed there, I'll hate myself the rest of my life.'

Joe Crown peered out the window, his profile etched by red light.

'Please understand, Fritzi, I'm not arguing to be difficult, or have my own way.' Oh, no?

He held out his small, well-manicured hands, pleading. 'I want the best for you. A husband. A home. Children.'

'I'm hardly the kind of raving beauty a man's going to marry.'

'You underrate yourself, terribly. You'll find someone. Perhaps you mustn't set your sights so high. In any case, a young woman of good character belongs--'

She jumped up. LKirche, Kiiche, Kinder? Papa, that was your century.

This is mine. My life.'

'Your life! You must regard it very cheaply if you insist on consorting with low theatrical people.'

His voice had risen. Fritzi clenched her hands. The scene was veering out of control. 'How can you say that? You're the one who gave me permission to join the Mortmain company.'

'Touring the South -- a section of the country far safer than New York.'

He hooked a finger in his collar and jerked, a sign of his agitation. 'I thought a year or two on the road would cure your ambition. You'd see the Obligatory Scene

45

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sordid lives of actors, most of whom fail to achieve anything significant.

You'd endure wretched conditions for a while, and then your eyes would open and you'd give it up.'

'You really thought that when you let me go?'

'Yes.'

'You didn't support me? You deliberately sent me out to fail?'

He took hold of her red satin sleeves. 'Please calm down.'

1*

She wrenched free. 'I'm not a child, to be patronized and pacified. You

'

keep making that mistake.' Her color was high, her forehead hot, her stomach unbearably painful.

'No, you misunderstand. I repeat, I want nothing but the best for you.

When you left, I thought you were foolish, misguided. But I felt that trying to reason with you was futile. I did not send you out to fail, only to get the theater out of your system. It appears I'm the one who failed. I must try again. I beg you not to go. New York is a cesspool of criminals, radicals, pseudo-intellectuals with their Ivy League noses in the air. And those damned new women with their short hair! I've seen photos of them strutting in trousers and neckties and derby hats. Some of them even flaunt cigars and pipes. In public! I don't want you going that way'

'Papa, that's ridiculous. I won't.'

'You're a lovely girl' - she avoided his eyes - 'but emotional. At this moment I would say slightly hysterical. Let me be plain. If you persist with

¦

this mad idea, you'll incur my deep displeasure.'

But she already had, it was evident in the set of his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes. She marched to him in two quick strides, confronted him without blinking.

'Then what, Papa? You'll disown me?'

'I dislike your tone of voice.'

'I'm sorry, I'm a grown woman. I'll always be your daughter, but I'm not your slave.'

'I forbid you to go. I forbid it!'

The office had grown dark as a cave; the last red light was gone, and the stars were strewn high on the other side of the glass, which vibrated in the lake wind.

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'You have nothing to say about it, Papa. Goodbye.'

Fritzi was almost in tears. She dashed out, giving the office door a mighty slam. It was a splendid curtain cue, for a play. The difference was, when a play ended, there were no consequences.

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Dreamers

10 Eastbound

QT iebchen, don't do this,' lisa said. Fritzi threw stockings and underjLJ

wear into the muslin-covered tray of her steamer trunk. It was a fine old trunk, basswood covered in canvas and reinforced with top, bottom, and side slats. It bore the scars of her years of one-night engagements: grease marks that wouldn't surrender to repeated scrubbing, deep dents in the brass corner bumpers.

'I'm going, Mama. He despises me.'

'You're wrong, it's only the acting. And the thought of you alone in New York.'

'What's the difference? That's what I am, an actress. Actresses belong in New York.' She stuffed a pair of shoes into her brown leather bag on the bed. A slot under the handle held a wrinkled card she'd inscribed with care, in ink, in 1901:

Miss Frederica CROWN

mortmain's

Royal Shakespeare Combination

Birmingham, ALABAMA

lisa wrung her hands, clearly desperate for a new avenue of argument.

Outside Fritzi's window the sunless sky had a murky, menacing look.

'Papa hasn't said three words to me since the party night before last.

He's avoided me around the house. 1 never spent a worse Sunday. I'll be on the four o'clock train.'

'Fritzi, it's Heilig Abend. Christmas Eve. We gather together, Papa lights the candles on the tree--'

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'I'll celebrate by myself. He can't change, Mama. Or grant me the right to live my own life -- to fail, if that's the outcome. Which it will not be, I promise. Papa's reverting to his old self. He orders everyone about according to what he thinks is right, and when they don't obey like dutiful little soldiers he rejects them, freezes them out with his glaring and huffing.'

Eastbound

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