It refused to produce the usual comforting pictures of Lennie in beggars' rags at the age of twenty-one, pleading with a prosperous, glittering Herbie for a small loan. The fat boy was indeed brought low.
The depression lessened when he came back to Mrs. Gorkin's classroom. There, lying on his desk, was his costume for the assembly play: an Army general's cap, a long overcoat with brass buttons, and, most wonderful of all, an honest-to-goodness cigar. In honor of Decoration Day he was to play General Ulysses S. Grant in
The Surrender at Appomattox.
Mrs. Gorkin had spent a year at dramatic school before abandoning her dreams and becoming a school teacher. She was therefore the official theatrical manager of Public School 50. Her class benefited by the excitement of rehearsals, irregular hours, release from homework, and other privileges of a troupe of actors. She rarely troubled to go outside her own classroom for talent; it made control more difficult. Herbie, quick-witted and something of a showoff, was the natural choice for the long part of Grant. The casting of Robert E. Lee was harder. In the end Mrs. Gorkin had reluctantly given the role to Lennie Krieger, despite his low marks and truculent manner, because he was taller than any other boy and had the handsome figure required for General Lee—whom Mrs. Gorkin, with many historians, regarded as the hero of the scene.
When it was too late she regretted the choice a dozen times. Lennie's entrances, exits, and warlike gestures were things of spread-eagle beauty, but he couldn't remember lines, and those he did recall he mumbled jerkily out of the side of his mouth. He obviously believed that clear speech would compromise his manliness. Coaching, threats, and pleas by Mrs. Gorkin induced him to say a few speeches correctly at a rehearsal; next day, Robert E. Lee once more sounded like a bad boy reciting, “I must not throw erasers, I must not throw erasers.” But the mistake was past remedy. Mrs. Gorkin instructed Herbie to memorize Lee's lines as well as Grant's, and to prompt Lennie whenever necessary.
Class 7B-1 lined up in front of the room and marched gaily to assembly hall for dress rehearsal. Eight of the boys carried costumes and props hired by Mrs. Gorkin from a downtown shop. Only Grant and Lee had complete outfits. The minor military figures were represented by a cap here, a jacket there, a pistol elsewhere. In the interest of economy two uniforms were furnishing out two chiefs of staff, four orderlies, and several miscellaneous generals. The rest of the class were coming along to watch the fun, freed from the drone of study by Mrs. Gorkin's theatrical duties.
In a tiny dressing room on one side of the assembly-hall platform the boys put on their costumes. Lennie soon became a dignified, glittering man of war, with a noble white beard that looped over his ears with elastic threads. By contrast, Herbie made a shabby Grant. The brass-buttoned overcoat slumped and lost its military aspect on his narrow shoulders and chubby body. The braided cap flopped down over his ears. He looked like the son of a doorman wearing his father's castoffs. Worst of all, the item of whiskers had apparently been overlooked in his case. Out of all his ludicrously oversized attire there peeped a round, clean pink face with a cigar in it. When Mrs. Gorkin came into the dressing room, she was greeted by a wail from the victor of Richmond. “Gosh, Mrs. Gorkin, where's my beard?”
“You have a beard.”
“I have not.”
“It's in your overcoat pocket.”
“Oh.” Herbie reached into the pockets and brought out a square piece of greasy black felt.
“This?”
he said in horror.
“Yes,
that,
” said Mrs. Gorkin. She took it out of his hand and affixed it to the bottom of his hat with two snap fasteners. “There, you look fine,” she said heartily.
Herbie hurried to a mirror, took one look, and almost burst into tears. The black felt looked exactly like what it was: a piece
The depression lessened when he came back to Mrs. Gorkin's classroom. There, lying on his desk, was his costume for the assembly play: an Army general's cap, a long overcoat with brass buttons, and, most wonderful of all, an honest-to-goodness cigar. In honor of Decoration Day he was to play General Ulysses S. Grant in
The Surrender at Appomattox.
Mrs. Gorkin had spent a year at dramatic school before abandoning her dreams and becoming a school teacher. She was therefore the official theatrical manager of Public School 50. Her class benefited by the excitement of rehearsals, irregular hours, release from homework, and other privileges of a troupe of actors. She rarely troubled to go outside her own classroom for talent; it made control more difficult. Herbie, quick-witted and something of a showoff, was the natural choice for the long part of Grant. The casting of Robert E. Lee was harder. In the end Mrs. Gorkin had reluctantly given the role to Lennie Krieger, despite his low marks and truculent manner, because he was taller than any other boy and had the handsome figure required for General Lee—whom Mrs. Gorkin, with many historians, regarded as the hero of the scene.
When it was too late she regretted the choice a dozen times. Lennie's entrances, exits, and warlike gestures were things of spread-eagle beauty, but he couldn't remember lines, and those he did recall he mumbled jerkily out of the side of his mouth. He obviously believed that clear speech would compromise his manliness. Coaching, threats, and pleas by Mrs. Gorkin induced him to say a few speeches correctly at a rehearsal; next day, Robert E. Lee once more sounded like a bad boy reciting, “I must not throw erasers, I must not throw erasers.” But the mistake was past remedy. Mrs. Gorkin instructed Herbie to memorize Lee's lines as well as Grant's, and to prompt Lennie whenever necessary.
Class 7B-1 lined up in front of the room and marched gaily to assembly hall for dress rehearsal. Eight of the boys carried costumes and props hired by Mrs. Gorkin from a downtown shop. Only Grant and Lee had complete outfits. The minor military figures were represented by a cap here, a jacket there, a pistol elsewhere. In the interest of economy two uniforms were furnishing out two chiefs of staff, four orderlies, and several miscellaneous generals. The rest of the class were coming along to watch the fun, freed from the drone of study by Mrs. Gorkin's theatrical duties.
In a tiny dressing room on one side of the assembly-hall platform the boys put on their costumes. Lennie soon became a dignified, glittering man of war, with a noble white beard that looped over his ears with elastic threads. By contrast, Herbie made a shabby Grant. The brass-buttoned overcoat slumped and lost its military aspect on his narrow shoulders and chubby body. The braided cap flopped down over his ears. He looked like the son of a doorman wearing his father's castoffs. Worst of all, the item of whiskers had apparently been overlooked in his case. Out of all his ludicrously oversized attire there peeped a round, clean pink face with a cigar in it. When Mrs. Gorkin came into the dressing room, she was greeted by a wail from the victor of Richmond. “Gosh, Mrs. Gorkin, where's my beard?”
“You have a beard.”
“I have not.”
“It's in your overcoat pocket.”
“Oh.” Herbie reached into the pockets and brought out a square piece of greasy black felt.
“This?”
he said in horror.
“Yes,
that,
” said Mrs. Gorkin. She took it out of his hand and affixed it to the bottom of his hat with two snap fasteners. “There, you look fine,” she said heartily.
Herbie hurried to a mirror, took one look, and almost burst into tears. The black felt looked exactly like what it was: a piece
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