Celeste's Harlem Renaissance (18 page)

I managed to smile and nod my head, but as he talked, my shoulders slumped. I’d planned for this to be my get-back-home money!

“You’re an excellent violinist,” Mr. Ellington said. He had deep dimples and kind eyes, and his brown skin looked as smooth as Aunti Val’s. “I plan to have a full orchestra one day. When you get older, please look me up if you’re still interested in music. I’ll save a chair for you.”

I thanked him for the invitation and thanked Monsieur again. But I didn’t have much appetite for the rest of my meal this time.

“Well, you got a nice little taste of show business.” Mrs. Tartleton tried to comfort me. “That’s how it is — easy come, easy go. And won’t your aunt be surprised.”

“She’ll be
something,
all right.” Miss D chuckled. “Seeing as how he asked her niece but never her to perform at his place —”

“She’ll laugh,” I broke in. “She won’t be upset about my playing Dede here.” I saw Miss D and Mrs. Tartleton raise their eyebrows at each other.
Wonder what that meant?
I asked myself, but I let it go.

A few evenings later I was at Miss D’s and she was telling me how a South Carolina ghost called a plat-eye chased her through a swamp outside Saint Helena, when we heard a clatter of footsteps and loud voices outside the door. “What in the world? Thieves?” Miss D grabbed her pressing comb off her table and held it like a weapon. I grabbed the broom. Cautiously we peeked out into the hallway.

Mr. Jim, the
Shuffle Along
driver, stood in the hallway holding Aunt Valentina around the waist, with one of her arms draped around his neck.

“Something in my back slipped out of kilter last night. AWWWWWW!” Her hat was slung over her right eye.

We helped Aunti into her room. Mr. Jim said he’d leave her bags in the lobby. He couldn’t bring them up because he had to get back to the show. We thanked him and got Aunti set-tled in the bed. I rubbed Vicks salve on her back. “Aunti, what happened?”

“I’m just a little sore,” Aunti kept saying, though I could see that she hurt even to take a breath. “I was doing the Charleston and something went
flink!
in the same spot in my back where I hurt it scrubbing floors.”

“I’ll warm you up some oxtail soup,” Miss D said. “We already ate.”

I told Aunti about our trip to Marley’s, and Gertie’s episodes with goat milk and Ex-Lax. She laughed so hard she hurt her back again and I had to rub her some more. “And I played Dede twice at Café Noir Le Grande, Aunti! I was so scared I didn’t think I could do it, but I did! Miss D and Mrs. Tartleton were impressed with the food, too.”

Aunti stopped laughing. “You played your violin at the Café Noir Le Grande?” She rubbed her nose two or three times, frowning, her eyes narrowed. “Twice? And he paid you? I see. Like I told Lottie, you do have ambition. Though I didn’t think it’d pop up like this. Why did he have you perform? Or did you ask him to?”

“Oh, no, Aunti!” I explained quickly how I didn’t want to and how he pulled me up to the platform and how Mrs. Tartleton told him I couldn’t. Then I had to explain how Mrs. Tartleton and Miss D came to be there. She grilled me until I was sorry I had even mentioned it. I had thought she’d be pleased. Miss D was right. She was
something,
all right, but pleased wasn’t the word.

“Congratulations, Celeste,” she finally said, grumpy.

“Would you tell me about the show and everybody?” I said, to try to take that awful expression off her face.

Still sounding out of sorts, Aunti said Mr. Sissle promised that she could open with the show in New York if she felt better. “He was very impressed with me, you see. The Howard Theater in Washington, where I joined the cast, was a gorgeous place. And our shows were absolutely fabulous.” She was back to her normal tones. “The Dunbar in Philadelphia was the same, and well, here I am.” She stopped and her eyes narrowed again. “So why did you go to the café in the first place?”

As I was squirming under her next slew of questions, Miss D brought over the soup, and Aunti quit talking in order to eat. But when Miss D praised my violin playing at the Café Noir Le Grande, Aunti puffed up again.

“Why’ve you got your face all tore up? Soup not tasty enough?” Miss D asked. “Or has hearing that Celeste played her violin at the Café Noir Le Grande done stuck in your craw? Valentina, the girl’s good. Quit pouting.”

“Ripsey, I’m not pouting,” Aunti mumbled. “My back just hurts.”

Miss D cleared her throat, glanced at me, and changed the subject to Gertie. When we got Aunti talking about herself again, she brightened up. Miss D finally left, and I got ready for bed, halfway dreading being alone with Aunti. I turned down the lamp and crawled into bed carefully, so’s not to disrupt her back, or her mood.

“We finally found a theater here to open in,” she said. “It’s the Sixty-third Street Theater. Place is so rickety they’ll probably still be working on the sets come opening night. It’s not exactly located in the traditional Broadway district, but Mr. Sissle says
Shuffle Along
’s a Broadway show no matter what. And did everything go all right with you and Miss D?”

“Yes, ma’am. I missed you something awful, Aunti. I missed you almost as much as I do Poppa. You know, everybody’d love to see a famous Broadway actress from Raleigh — you — back home. They might put you in the Negro State Fair parade.”

“Hmmmm,” she murmured. I could tell that parade angle had caught her attention. “Maybe so. But first, Broadway!”

Chapter
Thirteen

M
ay 23! Opening night! My heart beat so fast you’d have thought I was in
Shuffle Along
with Aunti and Miss Jarboro and them. Was Aunti as excited as I had been playing at Café Noir Le Grande? And would her back be all right now? In Raleigh, when Colored and White sat in the same building, we Colored folks usually had to sit so far back or so high up we couldn’t see what was going on half the time. But here in the Sixty-third Street Theater, things were different. Miss D and I sat near the orchestra pit in front near the end of the row — good seats!

Trying not to gawk, I looked around at the handsome laughing Colored men in straw hats and snappy suits, and at the pretty whispering Colored ladies with silk shawls and furs around their shoulders, glittering jewelry around their necks, and ostrich and peacock feathers in their hats. Miss D wore a bright blue silky suit. She’d altered Aunti’s flowery green organdy dress for me, and I wore her same white pumps from Mother’s Day. I’d practiced walking in them, and now I was doing fine. I wore my hair in a bun — my new style. I had rouge on my cheeks and lips, Aunti’s lemonade and cherries cologne behind my ears — oh, I was the cat’s pajamas!

I saw Miss Jarboro standing with some other cast members near a stage door not far from us, and waved at her. She saw me, too, and wiggled her fingers at me. Just then Mr. Blake appeared in the doorway, jabbed his forefinger at Miss Jarboro, then pointed to the stage. Miss Jarboro motioned for me to come over.

“What’s she want?” I whispered to Miss D.

“Maybe your aunt’s back went out again. Hurry up and go see.”

Miss Jarboro thrust an armload of programs at me. “Oh, you look so pretty. We don’t have time to pass these out. Will you do it for us? Thanks, honey.” She followed Mr. Blake and the other performers through the door.

I searched for Aunti’s name while straightening the programs in my arms. I didn’t get much of a chance to look because people quickly crowded around to get the programs. “Hurry up, girl, show’s about to start!” said a man, snatching several from my arms. “Give me a bunch and I’ll pass ’em on,” said another. They pushed around, almost trampling me, then hurried on to their seats. I’d never seen such grabby folks. I picked up a couple programs from the floor and nearly bumped heads with a man doing the same thing.

“I thought they were going to stamp you down to South America,” he said. “Aren’t you Valentina’s niece? I’m James Weldon —”

“Oh, Mr. Johnson, yes, it’s me, Celeste! Thank you. Please take this clean one.” I leaned around folks to hand him another sheet. “Can we come by your office to see about my Butterflies Club friends’ poems sometime?”

“Your what? Oh, yes, certainly. But to make it easier for you, I’ll have Miss Fausett mail you back an announcement of the results, as well as your submissions, and the current
Brownies’ Book.
We have your aunt’s address. How’s that?”

“That’d be fabulous.” Handing people programs, I followed him for a few steps. “This is my first Broadway show, and it’s — it’s — the cat’s pajamas.”

“Oh, you’re speaking Harlem, are you now?” He laughed and paused. “Funny thing. This building’s not located where Broadway shows are traditionally held. But the tickets cost the same as a Broadway musical, so some say it really
is
a Broadway show. Certainly Mr. Blake and Mr. Sissle believe it is. Either way,
Shuffle Along
’s going to change American theater for us Negroes, I assure you.”

Just then the lights dimmed. I passed out all but two programs, for myself and Miss D, and hurried back to my seat. On with the show!

Shuffle Along
rolled along. Folks laughed, applauded, or dabbed at their tearful eyes with handkerchiefs in the right places. Miss Lottie brought down the house with “I’m Just Wild About Harry” — done my way, of course. Aunti in her dazzling Oriental outfit was stunning. I thought she danced better than anyone else whenever she appeared onstage. I wished she could have sung a solo or danced by herself, but you can’t have everything.

When
Shuffle Along
ended, Miss D and I and everybody else got to our feet, clapping and shouting and whistling so loud I thought the chandeliers would crash down on our heads. Aunti and the cast returned to the stage and curtsied and took deep bows. Several men in white tuxedoes with tails walked onstage and presented bouquets of roses to Miss Lottie, Miss Gertrude Saunders, and Miss Adelaide Hall, while they threw us kisses.

Folks in the audience threw flowers to them, too. When a small bouquet of yellow roses went astray and landed in the aisle near me, I scrambled over and seized it. Quickly pulling two from the bouquet for Miss D and me, I hurried to the stage and held up what was left of it to Aunti. “Val Chavis! Val Chavis!” I screamed in a loud voice I didn’t know I had. In the glare of the lights and the noise, Aunti was too busy grinning, throwing kisses, and bowing to see me. I backed away toward my seat, embarrassed.

“Celeste!”

She did see me! When I rushed back and held up the roses, she snatched the bouquet from me, beaming. Pleased, I returned to Miss D, and handed her a rose.

She thanked me and sniffed the rose. “This show’s making
you
bloom as much as it is your aunt, if not more. When you first landed in Harlem, you’d have been too shy to even get out of your seat tonight.”

I smelled my rose, too, nodding. She was right.

Afterward, we stood around in the crowds, waiting for Aunti to come from the stage. “This is a grand night,” Miss D said. “She’s on her way to becoming a big cheese. That is, if somebody gives her a good role. She can’t be a hoofer all her life.”

I had to shout over the clamor so Miss D could hear me. I knew from
Shuffle Along
talk that “hoofer” meant dancer. “So she can make loads of money and want to come home to Raleigh in style, of course.”

Miss D touched me on the nose with her flower. “But why’d she want to go back down there if she’s making money up here? Hey, I’m just flapping my lips.”

Of course she will,
I said to myself.
She’s got to. She’s got to know how important it is to have a family around you. I do.

We waited and waited and waited. Finally the crowd thinned and Aunti joined us, bubbling, doing a little dance, humming. We hugged her while she sang, “I’m just wild about — everything!”

Miss Lottie, Miss Adelaide, and their admirers swept by us. “Coming, Val?” Miss Lottie called as she passed. “The cast party’s at Café Noir Le Grande. We’re gonna party at that joint all night!”

“I’ll be there in a flash,” Aunti hollered. When she started to follow them, my shoulders drooped and Miss D grunted. We weren’t going to be part of her entourage, I could see that. Aunti stopped to look back at us. “Oh, well, no,” she added slowly. “Right now I’m going to celebrate with my family.”

Of course her words made us smile, but as we left the theater, Aunti was silent. Why was I even a bit sad? Aunti was with us, wasn’t she? Miss D must have read our thoughts. “You could have gone on to the party, Val, and Cece could have stayed with me, like before.”

“I know.” Aunti took our hands and began to sing, “Everything’s dandy, girls, smile!” I didn’t know where that song came from, but it made me feel better.

At home Miss D came into our room with us and leaned against the door while Aunti babbled on about things that had happened backstage, like Mr. Jim still hammering on a piece of the grocery store set when the curtains opened.

“What happens at a cast party?” I asked when she finally slowed down.

“Everybody gossips, talks over what to keep in a scene, what to take out, stuff like that.” Aunti sat at the table still wearing her costume and makeup. “We eat, probably pop a bottle of champagne. A few of us girls might even smoke cigarettes!” She got up, rattled around in the cupboard, and brought out three glasses. “To
Shuffle Along,
and to us!” She poured water into the glasses and passed them around for a toast.

“To us!” we repeated, and then clinked glasses and pretended we were drinking champagne.

“Well, I’m gonna head on in,” Miss D said. “Oh, did you like your flowers? Celeste strutted right up there through all those folks to give them to you.”

“I loved them. Made me feel like a diva!” Aunti said and winked at me. I noticed just then that she had drawn a big black mole on her right cheek, and her eyelashes were twice as long as normal. Oh, Aunt Society would have a conniption to see Aunti fancied up so like a loose woman. “I must have left them backstage. I’ll get them tomorrow. That was so sweet of you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. I doubted, though, that they’d still be there, but that was all right. I understood how excited she was.