“I was thinkin’ ’bout your Christmus ’sembly, Mr. Dadier,” Miller said.
“What about it?”
“Well, them angels you tole us about in class. ’Member?”
“I remember.”
Miller shifted his feet, and succeeded in looking very embarrassed. “They got a lot of lines to say? I mean, will they be a lot of memorizin’ to do?”
“No, not too much,” Rick said. He looked at Miller curiously. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I had a idea, Mr. Dadier. You sure you got a few minutes?”
“Yes, yes. Go ahead.”
“Whutchoo think of the idea of colored angels?”
Rick looked at Miller warily. “Colored angels?” he asked slowly.
Miller seemed to be just as wary of Rick. He looked at him levelly and said, “Black fellers. You know?”
“Well, what do you mean?”
“I figured maybe they’d look kind of... well... I figured it’d maybe be good for a few laughs, you know? Like four or five of us in them white sheets, with halos. You follow me, Mr. Dadier?”
“Yes, Miller,” Rick said, surprised, wondering what was up the boy’s sleeve.
“You want the angels for laughs, don’tchoo? You said you was gonna get seniors, if you could, ’cause they big.” Miller smiled engagingly. “I got some friends, Mr. Dadier, an’ they not ony big, they black.”
“I... I don’t know,” Rick said, undecided, wondering whether the idea would work or not, seeing it in his mind’s eye, and visualizing it as being good pictorially, but not wanting anyone to think he was poking fun at the Negro.
“These friends of mine,” Miller went on, really trying to sell the idea now, “they got talent. They sort of sing aroun’, you know, and maybe they could do a Christmus carol, if you wanted. They good on ‘Silunt Night,’ and they know ‘God Rest Ye’ an’ all the others. They good, I mean it.” Miller paused, seemingly more embarrassed, and then asked, “You... you was plannin’ on colored boys in the show, wunt you?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Rick said. “I just don’t know...”
“I think it might be good,” Miller said softly, lowering his head, apparently feeling his idea had not met with Rick’s approval.
“Would... would your friends be willing to work hard, Miller?”
“Oh, sure,” Miller said, a spark returning to his eyes.
“After school?”
“Well, I don’ know ’bout that. I mean, most of these fellers got jobs after school. But we’ll come anytime durin’ school, I mean on our lunch hours or any time. An’ we all know each other outside, so we could go over the stuff at night, you know? On our own time, I mean. I mean, if you like the idea.”
Rick hesitated and then said, “How do you think the other... colored boys would react to it? The ones in the audience.” He looked at Miller cautiously, surprised to find himself discussing the topic with the boy, and yet glad he was. “You see...”
“You mean you think somebody goan take offense?” Miller smiled confidently. “Naw, you got no worries there. They’ll jus’ think it’s a big laugh, tha’s all.”
“I don’t know,” Rick said, really not knowing.
“Mr. Dadier,” Miller said, possessed of a sudden idea, “you know Green Pastures?”
“Why, yes,” Rick said, surprised that Miller was familiar with the play.
“They colored angels in that one, Mr. Dadier. They even a colored God, and nobody took offense there, did they? They did that play up at the Y in Harlem, and everybody watchin’ was colored, and nobody got mad about it. It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”
“Yes,” Rick said, nodding his head, “maybe it would. Look, Miller, let me check this with Mr. Small today. If he likes the idea... well, you see, I don’t want to offend anyone. If he likes it, you can tell your friends okay.” He paused and tried a smile. “I hope, Miller, that... that you were planning on coming out for the show, too.”
“Why, sure I was,” Miller said, surprised. “Hell, man, I’m the bass in the group.”
“Well, good,” Rick said. “I’ll let you know in class tomorrow, Miller.”
Rick checked with Mr. Small that afternoon, and Small was in favor of the idea. He was especially pleased that the idea had come from one of the students, and when Rick had left him he congratulated himself upon having made an excellent choice for the producer of the all-important Christmas Assembly. At the end of the fifth period the next day. Rick passed the information on to Miller. He asked the boy to wait after class, and he was annoyed when West waited with him.
“I want to talk to Miller alone,” he said to West. “Would you mind waiting outside?”
West shot Rick a disgusted glance and then walked to the doorway, lounging against the doorjamb.
“I spoke to Mr. Small, Miller,” Rick said, keeping his voice low so that West would not hear the conversation. “He thinks it’ll be fine.”
“Tha’s good,” Miller said, smiling and nodding. “I’ll tell the boys. When do we start?”
“Well, can you get me a copy of the boys’ programs, so I can arrange some sort of schedule? We’ll probably rehearse Santa and the angels separately in the beginning. Maybe later we can work out something about night rehearsals.”
“I’ll get the programs,” Miller said. He started for the door, turned, and added, “An’ thanks, Mr. Dadier.”
West, standing in the doorway, said, “What’re you doin’, Greg, suckin’ up?”
The two boys passed out into the corridor, and Rick did not hear Miller’s answer. He stared at the empty door frame for a long time, wondering why Miller had volunteered for the show, wondering if he weren’t making a mistake. Was Miller plotting some trick? If Miller had been the one who’d complained to Small, couldn’t this be some sort of extension of his complaint? Was it possible he’d try to foul up the show, try to present the Negro in a bad light, so that it would reflect upon Rick’s taste and judgment?
Rick didn’t know, but he made up his mind to watch Miller and the other angels very carefully, and to drop them from the show at the first sign of trouble.
As it turned out, his fears were ungrounded.
There were six angels in all, counting Miller. They were, as Miller had promised, all big boys, with one member of the sextet standing at six-two. Miller, in fact, was the shortest boy in the group, and Rick arranged them according to height, pleased with the ocarina effect he achieved. The first rehearsal was held during the fourth period on December 2nd. Rick knew that Katz was free during that period, and the programs Miller provided showed that three boys in the sextet had lunch during that period. He was forced to yank the remaining three out of classes, and for a moment he wondered if this wasn’t what Miller had had in mind all along. Could the boy have realized no rehearsal schedule was possible unless some boys were taken out of classes? Since Miller turned out to be one of those lucky boys, the supposition was not an unlikely one. But Rick passed no judgment. He promised to treat the thing fairly and squarely, and he was surprised and pleased with the final results — or at least the results he saw at the first dress rehearsal. He never did get to see the actual show.
The angels were surprisingly co-operative. Surprisingly, because Rick had had experience with specialty acts before. In college, whenever someone could dance or sing or juggle, that someone became a specialty act, a featured performer. Having become a member of this elevated caste, the person usually felt the show should revolve around himself, plot be damned, continuity be damned, everything else be damned. The angels had apparently sung together before, and Rick expected trouble on that account. He expected another specialty act, and specialty acts don’t like being squeezed into the framework of a show, don’t like being reduced to ciphers. But the angels showed no signs of specialty actitis. They listened to everything Rick had to say, and they seemed delighted with their speaking roles.