Jenny and Barnum (10 page)

Gallows humor has become the order of the day hereabouts. With the bad weather an ominous mood has settled on the city, as more and more of the rational element of the citizenry realize that national events have developed a momentum of their own. To his credit, Lincoln, who has preached the evils of slavery, so far refuses to put that issue before that of the Union. But one side is as bughouse as the
other, kiddo, meaning the worst is probably at hand. We have as much as a year before the battle lines are drawn, but longer than that before war begins in earnest, for the simple reason that armies cannot travel through the mud of late winter and early spring. At this point let it be enough to say, if you are reading this before the end of February, that we have all the time we need to complete the design I have fashioned for Jenny Lind
.

Ah! While I think of it, tell Anna Swan that I have entered into a correspondence with a young man in Maine, who is, I have on excellent authority, a full eight feet tall. We are very early in this particular game, I must tell you, so
please
do not let her get her hopes up too high
. (
There may be a joke here, but I don't think I understand it
.)

Lavinia knocked on the door—two taps, a pause, then two taps. It was how he had knocked on her door in the Washington Hotel, in Louisville, but now it was so much her signature that only his current fear of Joe Gallagher made him remember how the special knock had originated. Tom Thumb sat up and smoothed the guilt.

“Come on!”

She was just under thirty inches tall, the size of a two-year-old. From a distance she looked like four, with big blues eyes and fine yellow hair in curls around her neck—but not today, he noticed. Her hair was wet, limp. When she climbed up on the bed, he saw that the hem of her dress was wet, too. She kissed him on the mouth. Her lips and skin were cold from the out-of-doors.

“A letter from Barnum!” she squealed. She leafed through the news clippings. “Is it any good?”

She meant funny. She had a dimple in her chin, and a pink, pointing mouth. Her skin was perfect. She was beautiful to men of all sizes—Tom Thumb had seen all kinds of men, even royalty, respond to her.

“Barnum's got a lot on his mind,” Tom Thumb said. “Where were you?”

“With the rain keeping people indoors, Anna thought she could take a closer look at a little church cemetery. As soon as she stepped out of the carriage, a hansom came around the corner, its horse spied Anna, reared up, whinnied and galloped down the block, leaving Anna in tears—just blubbering and helpless. It took us five minutes to get her back in the carriage, but by then we were all soaked.”

Tom Thumb chose not to ask who the “we” had been—the kind of question that had nearly driven Lavinia away from him already. “I take it that Anna's all right.”

“She went to lie down.”

“She should lie down anyway, she's got a show to do tonight.”

Lavinia stuck out her lower lip. She loved to play the tiny child when she wanted sex. “I want to lie down, too. Let me in there with you.”

“Not in that muddy dress.”

She turned around, leaning against his leg. “Unbutton. We really do have lots of time, don't we? I'm cranky if I'm rushed out of bed, you know that. Go back to the beginning of the letter, Charlie. We can read it together.”

“I'll give you what I've already read, and you can catch up.”

She stood and stepped out of her dress and slip. Her knickers let him see the curvy plumpness of her legs, and when she got under the quilts beside him, he could smell the rain and perfume and her warm perspiration. She kissed his cheek, took the beginning of Barnum's letter, and rolled over so her bottom pressed against Tom Thumb's side.

“It got code,” she said in baby talk.

“I'm glad,” he answered contentedly, as if he hadn't had a bad thought at all.

But to get back to the issue at hand, I've been waiting for reports from several places, including St. Petersburg—I tell you, Charlie, I've had so many irons in the fire lately that some slip from my mind for days at a time! Now that the reports are in, I see the problems we face and have increased confidence that we have the unique abilities to solve them straightaway
.

Tom Thumb could not help but smell a rat. Barnum talked like this when he was trying to put something over on you. If he had been standing at the foot of the bed, he'd be talking nonstop, his arms waving, making you see things that weren't there, doing that kind of magic, until you saw what was in his head so completely that you began to suspect that you believed in it more than he did.

Lavinia turned a page. Tom Thumb wanted to put his hand under the quilt, but then he wouldn't be able to pass her the pages he had finished reading.

First and foremost, as I told you last time, the press comment on the troupe's performances is uniformly good, up to your usual high standards, and I offer my congratulations to all. Your notes about the receipts are being confirmed by the accountings of various theater managers. If my figures are correct, Charlie, you've already cleared enough to cover your own personal expenses for the next two years—and refit that miniature scow you call a yacht, if that is your desire
.

The Viennese notices arrived here about a week after your letter. Inasmuch as you left the city the morning after your performance before His Worthlessness Franz Josef, you doubtless did not see the special comment garnered by our Commodore Nutt at the reception afterward. The clippings are in the packet; the gist of them being that Gallagher was a bit of a bad boy at the reception, taking his exit before His Imperial Insignificance and apparently (this was learned later) committing an unspeakable rudeness on the boot of an aged and withered sleeping Count, Sultan—anyway, one of those titled types
.

Tell me at once: have there been any more incidents like that? I knew when we hired Joe Gallagher to play Commodore Nutt that we were getting an Irish tough, for all the woe-is-me talk of growing up
(?)
in the gutters of San Francisco. I've had an idea, and I need you to make a critical decision in my stead. In spite of the foregoing, is Gallagher reliable? Can he take instruction? Can he work with us?

Originally when I had the idea for the Commodore, it
was with the intention of creating a new troupe of which he would be a part, a kind of counterpart to you, exploiting your fame. Tawdry as that idea was, it would have worked, you'll admit, made money, but it really would not have advanced our cause a whit
.

Be that as it may, all that has given way to a far better idea. If Gallagher's naturally surly temperament is surfacing—I suspected it, I do confess—and he can be kept in line somehow, according to your best judgment (which I will accept), then I want you to explore ways to communicate Gallagher's “Bad Dwarf” persona (as opposed to your own saintly presence) to the public. In the same way, work into the performance a confrontation between the two of you (preferably a duel) in which good General Tom Thumb triumphs over evil Commodore Nutt. This will work best, I suspect, if you maintain a light, witty, and comic touch
.

I know you don't like it, Charlie, but the fact is that the performance has been too genteel and stylized for far too long. Like everything else, it needs a kick in the pants of its own presumptuousness, just like you kicked the country's pants in your first tour years ago. You were an absolute scandal, Charlie, remember that. But times change—a lesson beaten into me many times over—and what shocked the people just a few years ago collects nothing but yawns today. Or tomorrow. Your receipts are wonderful now in Europe, I know, but you're playing the same material America has seen since 1857. Give this your most careful consideration. If you decide that Gallagher is not right for the part, I will abide by that; but please bear in mind the value of his authenticity—people will pay plenty to see a truly pugnacious dwarf!

Now, as for Jenny Lind
…

“More,” Lavinia said, reaching for what Tom Thumb had finished. He saw “St. Petersburg” at the top of her first page—what business did Barnum have in the capital of the Tsars? He still hadn't said.

For a moment Tom Thumb's curiosity distracted him from the larger problem, or lost opportunity: if Lavinia had not been here, exactly where he wanted her, he could have kept Barnum's idea about Nutt, a name that suited the fellow better than Gallagher, entirely to himself. Now—the worst—Lavinia would be watching to see that he handled the situation fairly.

…
I have written to her guardian, Judge Munthe, in Stockholm, accepting her counteroffer unconditionally. My contract is now bound for our London agent, John Hall Wilton, along with a bank draft for 187,500 dollars. The lady wants her fee and expenses in escrow in Europe; as you well know, this is all the money I can lay hands on in this world—the thought of paying it out makes my bowel churn. As Wilton, has been instructed, I agree to all her other terms unconditionally as well. Charlie, you're not to take this as some feebleminded capitulation; the competition for her has been fierce, and certain blackguards have been attempting to influence Miss Lind by slandering my reputation. Given the circumstances—and the money I believe can be made on this venture—I have no choice but to be absolutely aboveboard in my dealings with The Swedish Nightingale
.

In my letter to Judge Munthe I have asked him to travel to London at my expense to meet with you and Wilton in Wilton's offices in Chancery Lane to sign such contracts as Wilton deems necessary. Your presence is required for several reasons, the second most important being that you have already functioned as my personal representative to Miss Lind
.

More important than that is the role you have yet to fulfill, which is that of Miss Lind's escort on the
Great Western
to the United States of America. As a veteran campaigner yourself, you surely can recognize my initial strategy. She is the most famous entertainer in Europe, and you are the most famous entertainer in America. If the American public sees you introduce Jenny Lind to our country, she will be guaranteed an honest chance with it. Charlie, the more I learn of Jenny Lind—and I have learned plenty—the more I am convinced that she will make a wonderful success in our country
.

In this new aspect of our project I must beg your forbearance on two counts
…

“Oh, this is good,” Lavinia said. “Barnum was scaring me at first. He really wants to hear about what happened to Joe in Barcelona.”

“He probably knows about it already, given the way he follows the European press.”

She sat up. “Does that mean you aren't going to tell him?”

“No, what it means is that Joe's shenanigans have already been reported in newspapers all over the Continent.” He turned back to the letter, wondering if he had said the name “Joe” with too much contempt. “I'll tell Barnum. I'm already thinking of stunts for the show—although I'm not sure Gallagher can do them, much less listen to my instruction.”

“You don't give him much of a chance, you know.”

“That's what he tells you,” Tom Thumb said, sighing. “He's getting the same instruction you were given.” She couldn't or wouldn't see how Gallagher's effusions of gratitude had given way over the months to this chronic complaining that had the same effect, that of generating sympathy for him. “He should give thanks. If Barnum and I hadn't invented this way of making a living, he'd be selling newspapers in saloons in San Francisco, lucky to eke out a life, never mind a living.”

“I suppose that last part applies to me, too!”

He twisted his head and looked into her eyes. “Nothing applies to you. I knew that a long time ago.”

She smiled; unlike many midgets, she had perfect teeth. “How long?”

“Since that night in Louisville.”

Without a word, or any other indication of how she chose to understand him, she went back to her part of Barnum's letter. Vexed, he went back to his.

…
In the first instance, I want you to show Miss Jenny Lind every possible courtesy and understanding. She is to believe that America is welcoming her because it appreciates and admires her work, and her work only. I tell you, Charlie, I have indeed learned a great deal about her. You
should talk to her sometime about your respective childhoods; she has stories about hers that will stand your hair on end. Aside from her phenomenal talent, the important thing to remember about her is that she is a God-fearing
, Christian
woman. I have it on good authority that she has been waiting for a suitable American offer so that she can commit a percentage of her proceeds to building an orphanage in her native Sweden. Charlie, need I tell you how the American public is going to react to that? Women will come hear her sing. For the first time in the history of American public entertainments, women will not be thought of as bold because they want to attend a public performance. And that is only one ramification of the impact Jenny Lind will have on America
.

As for the other aspect of your forbearance, it has to do with the time I need to prepare this great republic for Miss Lind's arrival. You will recall that when I first mentioned her to you some years ago, it was the first you had heard of her. The situation today with the public at large is vastly better than that, I am relieved to say, but there is much public relations work that needs to be done. I need time, at least three months as of this writing. What that means to you, Charlie, is that I want you to escort Miss Lind down the gangplank of the
Great Western
to me on the pier on the first of May—May Day, the celebration of spring
. Think
of it, Charlie! In the face of the coming war, Miss Jenny Lind will be the personification of this last beautiful spring! Don't worry, you'll have a title, honorary something-or-other, and your share of the limelight. I'll treat you right. Charlie, I'll even make it interesting for you: if there are less than ten thousand New Yorkers at the pier to greet you, I'll pay you a dollar for every one that's missing—it can cost you nothing
.