Native Tributes_Historical Novel by Gerald Vizenor

Author:Gerald Vizenor [Vizenor, Gerald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, historical, General, Native American & Aboriginal
ISBN: 9780819578266
Google: O_xhDwAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 39391596
Publisher: Wesleyan University Press
Published: 2018-07-17T22:13:25+00:00

‹| 8 |›

CORTEGE OF HONOR

Star Boy recovered a sense of solace in the easy luster of the city that early morning. The great columns of elm trees were brighter in the rain. The federal buildings were mostly stone gray, but there were slight traces of blue and rouge in the windows, on the side of a bus, faces in the crowd, bright umbrellas, and the rain lasted the entire day.

Blue Raven was our rainy day platoon leader.

The Gayety Burlesque Theater was truly a vision of paradise, and the façade, stage, and grand balconies were reminders of the time we worked more than a decade ago at the Orpheum Theatre in Minneapolis. The classical statues over the grand entrance arch were shiny in the rain, and inside the heavy scent of velvet, cosmetics, and cigar smoke were cues of our theater memories.

My brother paused at the entrance to the theater, just under the back balcony, and we were overawed with the huge stage and three circles of balconies. The Gayety was a grand palace, and we decided then and there we wanted to work and live in the theater. Plucky turned around in circles and counted the statues in the arches over the balconies. The ornate curves, masks, and heavy decorations of ivory, gold, and empire red might have sidetracked a new performer.

By Now had never visited a burlesque theater.

Star Boy was ready to watch every show from the high balcony. Then, as we slowly walked down the aisle to the proscenium stage, we heard moans, groans, grunts, and muted snores in the back balcony. My brother heard more than grunts and snorts on the stage, he heard faint sounds and whispers in the wings. He was perceptive to the stay of theatrical voices in the circle, and the traces of passion and humor on stage.

Some players thought the theater was haunted.

Twelve years earlier we were hired as stagehands at the Orpheum Theatre in Minneapolis. We carried huge trunks for actors, moved stage property, constructed sets, and even raised the curtain for vaudeville situation comedies and musical productions. The union was weak at the theater and we were fired because we dared to return to the reservation for a funeral. The manager would not be troubled with any personal diversions. A few months later we returned to the streets and stories of Paris.

France was a theater of the fur trade.

Jimmy Lake, the owner and manager of the Gayety Burlesque Theater, heard our voices as we walked toward the stage. We were seated on the aisle when he walked on stage, stared as us for a few minutes, and then pointed directly at Plucky, By Now, Aloysius, Lawrence, Treaty, then me, and ordered the six of us to stand next to him on stage. We followed orders and marched out of the wings and into the bright lights. Treaty balked at the stairs near the side of the stage.

“Listen, do you hear snores?” asked Jimmy Lake.

“Yes, but more than snores,” said Blue Raven.

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