White Shadows

A South Sea Dance Inspires a Matter of Fact Narrative Recited in the American Language

JOHN V. A. WEAVER

DREAMS? Take 'em away!

Dreams? Never again for me!

Be good—what does it get you? Be true—what to? Real love? Try and get it!

And success—You can have it.

White shadows! White shadows on green trees; green leaves, thick like a wall; green, so dark it's black; not a sound; nothin' movin'; nobody knows; nobody cflres—

That's what I see every time I close my eyes. And I'm closin' my eyes most of the time these days.

But not to dream—!

If I could only get there to them South Sea Islands. Maybe I got a wrong idear about 'em, maybe I couldn't find what I want if I got there, maybe it's just the same whether I go to Hell here, or anywheres elst—But I wisht to Heaven I never seen them books; I wisht to Heaven I never heard of South Sea Islands or dances, or men, or nothin'—

It's all so mixed up I don't know whether I can give you the stuff like I feel it, or not; but here you go.

WELL, now, I always had two things that was different from the other girls: I was pretty, and I could shake the feet. Night after night, down in Skaneateles, I would lay there in bed with my eyes closed tight. Sleep wouldn't come, only sorta dreams—me gettin' away from that rotten store on Genesee Street, goin' to New York, gettin' on the stage, workin' to the top, name in electric lights!—

It was like I says. I was pretty and I could shake the feet.

All the time there was that other dream: some man—a real man that I was goin' ta love. Some man that would be good enough for me, but me too good for him. See what I mean? Gee, it's hard to say! That was the kind of love I was lookin' for—a real, real love. Me lovin' him, but him lovin' me more. See?

But could I find any of them dreams in Skaneateles? Say it with oil-cans!

Do I have to tell you about makin' the break? And landin' a job, and three years in the chorus in New York and on the road, three rotten years. Finely I landed in the front .row.

Maybe it wouldn't of took me only a month or so if I would of did what plenty of 'em do— Yeh, I got to laugh. I was waitin' for that other dream, the man that was goin' to be the world and all—

SO then, six. weeks ago, we started rehearsin' for this You Tell 'Em. I was livin' with Mame up on Seventy-second street.

Just as I was cornin' out the door that first day, it was like somebody shot me in the chest. Of course, nobody did shoot me, but there was a man holdin' the door open for me. You see? You understand? There was my dream, holdin' the door. I never seen him before, but right away I knew it was him.

I couldn't say a thing exceptin' "Thank you," but all the way down on the subway a crazy song without no tune kep' racin' 'round and 'round in my head. "He lives there too! He lives there too!"

I looked in the lookin' glass as I was goin' through the stage-door. I didn't know myself—I looked so pretty again all of a sudden.

I gets into place as quick as I can, and Mr. Long—that's the director—he give me just one look, and goes over in a corner and starts whisperin' to the backer, and then he hollers, "Miss Lane! Step out here a second, please!"

The two of 'em they looks me over, and starts whisperin' some more, and then they puts it up to me. "Do you want to do a dance number all by yourself? A South Sea Island dance. I wouldn't be surprised was you the very girl we was lookin' for."

Well, what did I care for the dirty looks the other girls was givin' me? I just started thinkin' about that dream-man that held the door for me, and there it was. They give me the dance, and five whole lines to say.

Was I excited? Ast me!

BUT what I was more excited about was that man. It was a week till I could get Miss Rogers, she runs the boardin'-house, to interdooce us. And then the dumb way that I acted! My!

He was awful dumb actin', too. And awful up-stage. He wasn't btft about twenty-three, and they was two things I kept feelin' he was thinkin': first, he didn't have any use for chorus-girls, because he thought he was too good for 'em, and Miss Rogers told me he come from a swell family in Cleveland. And the other was he was scared. She said she heard he was engaged to a swell girl that give him the gate. That was a long time before, prob'ly about three years, and he was off any kind of women. He told me all that, later, anyways. But all he managed to let loose of, that first night, was that he was workin' in the insurance business, and he was studyin' law on the side, and had to go up now and study.

All the while he kep' lookin' 'round like he couldn't hardly wait to get away. But I kep' lookin' at that curly hair, and them black eyes, and how he was so strong, and still so shy and proud. Just a kid, really, and I wanted to take his head and pull it down, and pat it and make a fuss over him.

AND I couldn't seem to make no progress with him to speak of. Every time I tried some new gag like bein' sympathetic, or actin' like a six-year-old, or some other way that I thought wouldn't scare.him, or disgust him, or make that proud sort of touch-me-not look come into his eyes—it didn't get me very much of anywheres. To tell you the truth, I did useta get him talkin' oncet a while, but it was mostly about Cleveland and the times before he come to New York.

And the one time he opened up real was when he told me all about the girl and how he hated her now, and was glad she give him the throw-down. I says to him, "But all women isn't alike, Jack." And he froze up on me, and says, "Ain't they, Miss Lane?" lettin' me know the 'Jack' stuff didn't go so big with him.

Just think of that! The man I'd always looked for and dreamed about. And when I found him—all he done was run! I couldn't see any reason, neither. Because Mr. Long said I was full of refine beauty, and a ringer for Elsie Ferguson, if you know what I mean.

But what could I do? I bet I cried a bucket-full a night.

I cried. And when I didn't cry—I read!

Can you tie it? But that's what I did. It was all Long's doin'. It was when we first started in rehearsin' for the dance. Long says to me, "Now listen, girlie, about this dance. You shake your dogs the way you'd oughta, and your voice ain't so terrible, and what I mean you got the neck and shoulders and other things, includin' one of the cutest faces I ever looked at. Now. What you got to get is atmosphere. Get me? You got to get atmosphere. Look here. This is a book about them South Sea Islands. You take and read it all. Don't you skip a page. And when you get through this one, I got two more for you!"

WELL, I hated to start in on readin'. But in three pages I got so I just couldn't leave it loose. Readin' about them heathen, lovely places it was just like failin' into a different world, if you know what I mean. It was like bein' in a world where nothin' mattered excep' layin' in the sand and watchin' blue waves come rollin' in—and nothin' bothered anybody excep' love—and white shadows —and a big round moon!

And talk about atmosphere! I got so while I was rehearsin' my dance, I would be thinkin' about the things in the book. And just like magic those wasn't footlights there in front of me—they was big sea-shells on a lonely island. And all the time the face in front of me and by my side was that Jack—him and his eyes.

And did I dance! All of a sudden I knew I was good! Long come up to me, one day, and he had a look in his face I hadn't never saw there before, and he takes my hand, and drags me to one side, and whispers to me.

"Janie Lane, you got the stuff! We cert'nly got some dancin' South Sea Kid!

"Janie, they's somethin' elst I got to tell you. I'm crazy about you, kid, and that's a fack. What do you say you come out and have some eats with me?"

Well, it wouldn't of took no three year old girl to know what he was drivin' at. And he was a swell-lookin' guy, too, and I want to tell you he's got some drag in the perfession. But, even while I was turnin' all that over inside the bean, I started to thinkin' about that Jack, and his black eyes and all, and I says to Long, "Why, Mr. Long! You know you got a wife. I ain't that kind of a girl."

Long, he just smiles a little sort of sad-like smile, and says, "Well, if you know that much about me, you know how much I care about the wife, or her about me either. Don't you see? I'm crazy about you, honey. If you want to be my friend, I'll put you where you'll be wearin' di'monds. I know the dancin' stuff you got, and you better let me manage you. I'll make you the best dancin' act on Broadway!"

But I looked away, and he coughed a couple times, and then he says, "It's all right Janie, don't let it worry you none. Just keep up the good work. See? And if you think that you could ever love me—why I'm right here, kid, and always waitin' for you. Good night."

(Continued on page 100)

(Continued from page 67)

WELL that was swell of him, wasn't it, now? But still I was wild about that Jack, and the Prince of Wales couldn't of made no impression on me while I was thinkin' about them eyes.

And so it got to the day of the dress rehearsal, and Mame and me come back to the house, and in the hall who should I see but Jack, with two big law books.

Here was my chance! "Why, Jack, you're just the person I'm after 1"

"Oh, thanks," he says, "I was still studyin'. You know my bar exam comes nex' month."

"Bar exam!" I comes back, quick, "Is that what prohibition's doin'?"—makin' a joke, you know. He never cracks a smile, but I start in so he'll stay.

"Listen. I wanta ast a favour. I know you're awful busy, but look here:

I got a ticket I want to give you. We open cold, you know—we don't have to go to the sticks at all—and tomorrow night is openin', and this ticket is for the show, tomorrow night, ninth row center, right where you can see the whole thing. It's a swell show, honest and listen, won't you come?"

He looks bored, and says, "I can't afford it, and anyway I don't care an awful lot about musical shows."

"Afford it nothin'!" I says, "I'm givin' it to you. Won't you take it, please? I got the biggest surprise you ever seen for you. Please, won't you?"

He says, slow, "Well, all right." And so then I sticks the ticket in his hand, and says, "And you might call behind, after the show. And—I wouldn't mind if you should bring me home!"

Imagine me makin' such a play for anybody! But there, when you're crazy about somebody, what are you goin' to do? Especially when he gives you the high hat all the time? I was bound I was goin' to wake him up, give him some idear of just how good I was. If Long, that I bet has saw about a million girls in his time, could pick me out of them all, well, it was a cinch I must of had somethin' to me.

WELL, you know how it was. The first part of the show was a flop. The whole first ack, nothin' went over. Everybody gloomy and sore, and not a prayer for it lastin' more than a week.

But me—did I worry? Ha! There I am in the dressin' room, jumpin' into that lovely costume,—just as little as we can get away with—and say! I'm beautiful! I am! I know it from the green way all the girls is starin' at me. I know it every time I look at myself. I got it! I got it!

And so, all the time, I'm just as cool! Scared? What for? I got nothin' to lose and everything to win. And ain't Jack out there? Ninth row center?

Quick. I'm in my place, layin' alone in the sand, chin in my hand, watchin' the back-drop where the waves is slidin' and glidin' in the movie moonlight. Best set of any show in town: big trees bendin' down over me, both sides, black bushes; other side a grass hut, black grass, everything black but me. I'm the white shadow—see?

There goes the orchestra—now the verse is startin'! Harold Chester is singin' it, swingin' it out soft and sweet. I hate him, but he sure can sing, I got to hand him that. The verse is thrqugh . . . now he's on the chorus . . . now the curtain that shuts me off is partin'—

(Oh, shut up, heart! Can't I catch my breath? Sure, you're all right, Janie, old girl! Jack's out there, did you forget?)

Just for a minute the audience is quiet as death. Then, right at the end of the chorus, I hear a noise start to curl up to the stage, a sorta sigh like a

wind goin' by.

Harold is off left behind a bush, still singin'. They's a dead hush . . . and I get on my feet . . .

Nothin' but a wild drum, beatin' like a big pulse: "Bum-a-lum-a-lum-bum! Bum-a-lum-a-lum-bum!"

Back of the scenes the male quartet, and all the time the drum, and I'm dancin', dancin' . . .

Come—back—to Ty—peeee.

Come—back—to meeeel

Come where the birds are singing all the day,

Come where the moon is shining on the bay:

Come to our hut in Oomoa,

And we'll ne'er go aWay—

We'll have nothing but love from morn till night,

Beneath those South Sea shadows white, So come—back—to—Typee—

To Typeeeeeee And meee—

Jack! Jack! It's you I'm dancin' for! Do you see me? Jack? Look at me! I can dance! And I'm beautiful! And it's all for you, all for you! . . . Our island, Jack, yours and mine, nobody else, just you and me, and the big round moon, and the little waves, and the soft sand, and the black leaves, and the white shadows, white shadows, white shadows and love, white shadows 'way beyond the end of the world— Don't be scared—take me in your arms—let me feel you holdin' me against you—let me run my fingers through that curly hair—kiss me! Jack—oh,

Jack, you waited so long—

Crash!

The wild hands, clappin'! The house is yellin', they're standin' on the seats! Crash! Crash!

The clappin'—the yells! Curtains swingin' wide, closin' . . . Nine bows . . . they won't stop . . . louder and louder! . . .

I dance it again. Twicet, three times! They won't keep quiet. They won't let me go. It's a riot!

I can't believe it, but it's so 1 I've stopped the show!

Jack, Jack, do you see? It's me that's doin' it! It's Janie Lane! It's me . . .

"WHY ain't he at the stage-door? "Thanks, thanks!" Don't he care at all? Don't he see? "Oh Mr. Zieglitz, I can't talk business tonight . . . they's other managers." . . . Oh, where can he be! "Well, all right, Mr. Zieglitz, maybe I can see you tomorrow."

"Oh, thank you, thank you everybody. . . . Oh, Mr. Long, it's you I got to thank! You done it all . . .

"Oh, Mr. Long, don't ast me that tonight . . . I'm all upset ... I won't forget, honest I won't ... I don't think they's any use to ast, but don't ast me tonight, anyways . . ."

"Good-night! Good-night! . . . Please leave me by . . . Come on, Mame! Yeh, get a taxi . . . Mame, don't say a word . . . Don't let me cry, Mame . . . Mame, where can he be . . ."

MAME! Open the door and go on up ahead."

"Oh, Mame, hold me tight: here he comes—see him ? Look ! Isn't that him—? Why Jack,—it's you—what are you doing with that book? Where —where was you all the time?—Ain't you got nothin' to say?"

"What!"

"What? You say you never went? You never went! Oh—You fool! You dirty low-life fool! You and your rotten studyin'! Get outa my way! And I was wastin' my time on you!"

White shadows . . . Oh, my God . . .