Ernest Vincent Wright-Gadsby_ A Lipogram Novel -CreateSpace (2011) (7 page)

NOW, AS OUR Organization of Youth is rapidly growing up, a young crowd, too young to join it at first, is coming up; imbibing its "why-not-do-it-now?" spirit. So, as Gadsby stood in front of that big Municipal Auditorium (which that group, you know, had had built), Marian Hopkins, a small girl, in passing by, saw him, and said "I think Branton Hills ought to buy a balloon."

"Balloon? Balloon? What would this city do with a balloon? Put a string on it so you could run around with it?"

"No, not that kind of a balloon, but that big, zooming kind that sails way up high, with a man in it."

"Oh! Ha, ha! You think an aircraft is a balloon! But what would—Aha! An airport?" "Uh-huh; but I didn't know how to say it."

"It's cracky!" said His Honor. "I thought this town was about through improving. But an airport would add a bit to it; now wouldn't it?"

Marian had a most profound opinion that it would; (if profound opinions grow in such small kids!) so both took a walk to City Hall to hunt up a Councilman or two. Finding four in a Council room, Gadsby said

"Youth, or, I should say, childhood, has just shown that Branton Hills is shy on a most important acquisition," and Old Bill Simpkins just had to blurt out:— "And, naturally, it calls for cash! CASH!

CASH! CASH!! What will this town amount to if it blows in dollars so fast?"

"And," said Gadsby, "what will it amount to, if it don't?"

That put a gag on Old Bill. Councilman Banks, though, was curious to know about Marian's proposition, saying:— "It is probably a plan for buying Christmas toys for all Branton Hills kids."

But tiny Marian, with a vigorous stamp of a tiny foot, swung right back with: — "NO, SIR!! Santa Claus will bring us our gifts! But I thought of having a—what did you call it, Mayor Gadsby?"

"This child thinks Branton Hills should build an airport, and I think so, too. If our inhabitants, such as this tot, can think up such things, all adults should pack up, and vanish from municipal affairs. All right, Marian; our City Council, your City Council, my young patriot, will look into this airport plan for you."

So, as on similar occasions months ago, word that land was again cropping up in Gadsby's mind, brought out a flood of landlords with vacant lots, all looking forward to disposing of a dump worth two dollars and a half, for fifty thousand. Now an airport must occupy a vast lot of land, so cannot stand right in a City's shopping district; but finally a big tract was bought, and right in back of tiny Marian's back yard! Instantly, City Hall was full of applicants for flying Branton Hills' first aircraft. To Gadsby's joy, amongst that bunch was Harold Thompson, an old Organization lad, who was known around town as a chap who could do about anything calling for brains. As an airport is not laid out in a day, Harold got busy with paid aviators and soon was piloting a craft without aid; and not only Branton Hills folks, but old aviators, saw in Harold, a "bird-man" of no small ability. And so tiny Marian's "vision" was a fact; just as "big girl" Lucy's Zoo; and, as with all big City affairs, an Inauguration should start it off. Now, on all such affairs you always find a "visitor of honor"; and on this grand day Gadsby couldn't think of anybody for that important post but Marian. And, as it would occur in August, any day would do, as that is a school vacation month.

And what a mob stood, or sat, on that big airport, waiting for a signal from young Marian which would start Harold aloft, on Branton Hills' initial flight! Almost all brought a lunch and camp-stools or folding chairs; and, as it was a hot day, thousands of gay parasols, and an array of bright clothing on our school-girls, had that big lot looking as brilliant as a florist's window at Christmas.

Our young visitor of honor was all agog with joy; and, I think, possibly a touch of vanity; for what child wouldn't thrill with thousands watching? But though Marian had always had good clothing, coming from a family who could afford it, no tot, in all history, had so glorious an outfit as that which about all Branton Hills' population saw on that platform, amidst flags, bunting and our big Municipal Band. As an airship is a simulation of a bird; and as a bird, to a child, is not far from a fairy, Marian had gaudy fairy wings, a radiant cloak of gold, a sparkling gown all aglow with twinkling stars, and a long glass wand, with a star at its top. As soon as all was in condition Gadsby told Marian to stand up. This brought that vast crowd up, also; and Gadsby said:-

"Now hold your wand way up high, and swing it, to signal Harold to start."

Up shot a tiny arm; and Harold, watching from his cockpit, sang out:-"CONTACT!!"

A vigorous twist of his ship's gigantic "fan", a shout, a roar, a whizz, a mighty cloud of dust, and amid a tornado of clapping, shouts, and band music, Branton Hills was put on aviation's map. Way, way up, so far as to look as small as a toy, Harold put on a show of banking, rolling and diving, which told Gadsby that, still again, had Branton Hills found profit in what its Organization of Youth, and, now, its small kids, had to say about improving a town.

During that box-lunch picnic, many of our "big girls" brought so much food to Marian that Dad and Ma had to stand guard against tummy pains. And what a glorious, jolly occasion that picnic was! Gay band music, songs, dancing, oratory; and a grand all-round "howdy" amongst old inhabitants and arriving tourists soon was transforming that big crowd into a happy group, such as it is hard to find, today, in any big city: cold, distant, and with no thought by its politicians for anybody in it; and Gadsby found, around that big airport, many a man, woman and child who was as proud of him as was his own family.

I THINK THAT now you should know this charming Gadsby family; so I will bring forth Lady Gadsby, about whom I told you at Gadsby's inauguration as Mayor; a loyal church woman with a vocal ability for choir work; and, with good capability on piano or organ, no woman could "fill in" in so many ways; and no woman was so willing, and quick to do so. Gadsby had two sons; bright lads and popular with all. Julius was of a studious turn of mind, always poring through books of information; caring not what kind of information it was, so long as it was information, and not fiction. Gadsby had thought of his growing up as a school instructor, for no work is so worthy as imparting what you know to any who long to study. But William! Oh, hum!! Our Mayor and Lady Gadsby didn't know just what to do with him; for all his thoughts clung around girls and fashions in clothing: Probably our High School didn't contain a girl who didn't think that, at no distant day, Bill Gadsby would turn, from a callow youth, into a "big catch" husband; for a Mayor's son in so important a city as ours was a mark for any girl to shoot at. But Bill was not of a marrying disposition; loving girls just as girls, but holding out no hand to any in particular. Always in first class togs, without missing a solitary fad which a young man should adopt, Gadsby's Bill was a lion, in his own right, with no girl in sight who had that tact through which a lasso could land around his manly throat. Gadsby had many a laugh, looking back at his own boyhood days, his various flirtations, and such wild, throbbing palpitations as a boy's flirtations can instill; and looking back through just such ogling groups as now sought his offspring; until a girl, oh, so long ago, had put a stop to all such flirtations, and got that lasso on "with a strangling hold," as Gadsby says; and it is still on, today! But this family was not all boys. Oh, my, no! Two girls also sat around that family board. First, following William, was Nancy, who, as Gadsby laughingly said, "didn't know how to grow;" and now, in High School, was "about as big as a pint of milk;" and of such outstanding charm that Gadsby continually got solicitations to allow photographing for soft-drink and similar billboard displays.

"No, sir!! Not for any sort of pay!! In allowing public distribution of a girl's photo you don't know into what situations said photos will land. I find, daily, photographs of girls blowing about vacant lots, all soggy from rains; also in a ditch, with its customary filth; or stuck up on a brick wall or drawn onto an imaginary body showing a brand of tights or pajamas. No, sir!! Not for my girl!!"

Fourth in this popular family was Kathlyn, of what is known as a "classical mold;" with a brain which, at no distant day, will rank high in Biology and Microscopy; for Kathlyn was of that sort which finds fascination in studying out many whats and whys amongst that vast array of facts about our origin. This study, which too many young folks avoid as not having practical worth had a strong hold on Kathlyn, who could not sanction such frivolous occupations as cards, dancing, or plain school gossip. Not for an instant! Kathlyn thought that such folks had no thoughts for anything but transitory thrills. But in Biology!! Ah!! Why not study it, and find out how a tiny, microscopic drop of protoplasm, can, through unknown laws grow into living organisms, which can not only go on living, but can also bring forth offspring of its kind? And not only that. As said offspring must combat various kinds of surroundings and try various foods, why not watch odd variations occur, and follow along, until you find an animal, bird, plant or bug of such a total dissimilarity as to form practically, a class actually apart from its original form? Kathlyn did just that; and Gadsby was proud of it; and, I think, just a bit curious on his own part as to occasional illustrations in this studious young lady's school books!

Now it is known by all such natural "faddists" that any such a study has points in common with a branch akin to it; and Kathlyn was not long in finding out that Biology, with its facts of animal origin, could apply to a practical control of bugs on farms. (This word, "bugs," is hardly Biological; but as Kathlyn is in this story, with its strict orthographical taboo, "bugs" must unavoidably supplant any classical nomination for such things.)

So, Mayor Gadsby sought Branton Hills' Council's approval for a goodly sum; not only for such control, but also for study as to how to plant, in ordinary soil, and not risk losing half a crop from worms, slugs and our awkwardly-brought-in "bugs." This appropriation was a sort of prod, showing this Council that publicity of any first-class kind was good for a city; and was casting about for anything which would so act, until Gadsby's son, Bill, (who, you know, thought of nothing but girls and "dolling up,") found that Branton Hills had no distinction of its own in outfits for man or woman, so why not put up a goal of, say fifty dollars, for anybody who could think up any worthy "stunt" in clothing; which should go out as "Branton Hills' This" or "Branton Hills' That." Possibly just a form of hat-brim, a cut of coat-front, or a sporting outfit. And our worthy Council did put up that goal, and many brought all sorts of plans to City Hall. And Bill won, by thinking up a girls' (always girls, with Bill!) hiking outfit, consisting of a skirt with a rain-proof lining, which could, during a storm, form a rain-suit by putting it on, as Bill said, "by substituting outwards for inwards." (This will hit Bill amusingly, as days go by!) Going with it was a shirt with a similar "turn-out" facility, and a hiking boot with high tops as guards against thorns and burs; but which, by undoing a clasp, would slip off; and, LO!! you had a low-cut Oxford for ordinary occasions! In about a month a big cotton mill had work going full blast on "Branton Hills' Turn-it-out Sport and Hiking Outfit," and a small boot-shop got out a pair of Bill's "two-part boots," though saying that it would "probably fall apart without warning!" But Kathlyn put on a pair and found it most satisfactory for a long, rough hill-climb, hunting for bird and animal forms for Biological study. This proof of Branton Hills' goods was soon known in surrounding towns, and that critical boot-shop and big cotton mill had hard work to fill calls from Canada, Holland, Russia, Spain and Australia! And Bill was put upon Branton Hills' Roll of Honor.

NOW I'LL DROP civic affairs for a bit, and go on to a most natural act in this city of many young chaps and charming young girls which was slowly working up all through this history, as Mayor Gadsby had occasion to find out, sitting comfortably on his porch on a hot, sultry August night. Amidst blossoming shrubs, a dim form slowly trod up his winding pathway. It was a young man, plainly trying to act calmly, but couldn't. It was Frank Morgan, our radio broadcasting "boss", you know, who, for many a month, had shown what a romantic public calls "a crush" for Gadsby's young Nancy.

So a jolly call of: — "What's on your mind, boy?" rang out, as Frank sank willingly into a hammock, wiping his brow of what I actually know was not natural humidity from an August night! Now Gadsby, who was, as I said, a gay Lothario in his own youth, saw right off what was coming, and sat back, waiting. Finally, finishing a bad attack of coughing, (though Frank hadn't any cold!), that young man said:— "I,—that is, Nancy and I, — or, I will say that I want to,—that is,—I think Nancy and I would—" and Gadsby took pity on him, right off.

Nancy had always had a strong liking for Frank. Both had grown up in Branton Hills from babyhood; and Gadsby thought back about that lassoo which had brought him Lady Gadsby. Now asking a girl's Dad for that young lady's hand is no snap for any young swain; and Gadsby was just that kind of a Dad who would smooth out any bumps or rough spots in such a young swain's path. Nancy wasn't a child, now, but a grown-up young woman: so Gadsby said:— "Frank, Lady Gadsby and I know all about how much you think of Nancy; and what Nancy thinks of you. So, if you want to marry, our full wish is for a long and happy union. Nancy is out in that arbor, down this back path; and I'll watch that nobody disturbs you two for an hour."

At this grand turn of affairs, Frank could only gasp: — "OH—H—HH" and a shadowy form shot down that dusky path; and from that moonlit arbor, anybody knowing how a man chirps to a canary bird, would know that two young birds put a binding approval upon what His Honor had just said!!

Many a man has known that startling instant in which Dan Cupid, that busy young rascal, took things in hand, and told him that his baby girl was not a baby girl now, and was about to fly away from him. It is both a happy and a sad thrill that shoots through a man at such an instant. Happy and joyous at his girl's arrival at maturity; sad, as it brings to mind that awkward fact that his own youth is now but a myth; and that his scalp is showing vacant spots. His baby girl in a bridal gown! His baby girl a Matron! His baby girl proudly placing a grandchild in his lap!! It's an impossibility!! But this big world is full of this kind of impossibility, and will stay so as long as Man lasts.