For readers who want fiction other than our current serial —

From the Improvement Era, January 1954 –

Special Judge

By Esther Freshman

Louisa Brandon put the needle carefully in the first groove of the revolving record and settled back in the armchair near the portable record player to hear the music. Her eyes seemed full of stars as she listened to the harp music that cut the air with crystal-bell sounds. She was so blissfully engrossed in the music that she did not notice her beloved Uncle Marvin who had come to stand in the doorway, watching her with a pleased and admiring expression on his face. As the rich, full chords finally diminished on the air, he clapped his hands and shouted: “Bravo, bravo, Louisa Brandon — never have I heard your harp sound better. This concert shall, indeed, be your making!”

“Uncle Marv,” Louisa turned off the machine and threw herself into his arms, “I didn’t know you were listening! I wish that were my record,” her voice was wistful with admiration and hope, “but Germina Tingesky had already achieved worldwide recognition with her harp before she ever made that recording. Isn’t she magnificent, Uncle Marv? Oh, what I’d give to be able to hear her really in concert, just once. That’s all I’d ever ask — I’d — ”

“Now, no rash promises, young lady, be careful, be mighty careful. It seems to me that just last week I heard you say that all you’d ever ask was to win an award in the contest at Lancaster Hall next month? Right? Just one tiny award for your harp solo was all you asked.” He bent and kissed the serious face.

“No, not a word, I have something to say this time,” he continued, “and before you commit yourself further, too. Germina Tingesky is going to give a harp recital at the same Lancaster Hall where, by that time, you will have achieved your fame. She will perform the very night after your award-winning concert. Now, wait — ”

He playfully put his hand over her mouth and continued, his free arm affectionately about her shoulder: “If you play a successful concert — now mind you, I didn’t say one word about an award — but if you give a successful performance and make your old uncle proud we’ll stay over a day in Lancaster and go to Germina Tingesky’s recital.” He removed his hand from her mouth. “Well, speak up, Louisa.”

“I can’t now, Uncle Marv, I can’t talk. I’m so happy — I’m going to cry all over your new blue coat.” She buried her face on his shoulder. Then with a start she raised questioning, tear- filled eyes to his. “But who’ll decide if I play a successful concert, Uncle Marv?”

“I shall be a one-man committee of judges, my dear. I shall have the entire say.”

“You darling! Oh, I love you and love you and love you!”

All through January the Field Acres High School musicians had practised diligently, each young artist secretly hoping for one of the three awards that were to be given to the three best high school musicians in the district of Lancaster. Louisa was Field Acres High School’s only harpist; there was one unusually fine violinist; and five outstanding pianists; while Sarah Martin was a favorite on her silver flute. The high school had a fine musical director and the musicians had felt much encouraged in their artistic endeavors. They had a good-sized orchestra this year, and fifteen of its members were competing in the finals at the Lancaster auditorium at the end of the month.

Arrangements had been made to convey the students to Lancaster by bus. The participating students were to leave at three that afternoon, giving them ample opportunity to arrive in Lancaster for a warm dinner and a short rest before their appearance at the auditorium.

Uncle Marvin left the morning of the contest to go to Lancaster to attend to some business matters, arranging to meet Louisa after the performance.

“Good luck, my dear,” he said as she bade him good-bye. The early morning sky was gray, and tiny snowflakes were beginning to fall again. “Don’t worry about the weather now; it’s too cold to snow much. Have a good trip, keep calm, and play beautifully. I’m back of you all the way, you know,” he said fondly.

That noon a number of the contestants had lunch together in the school cafeteria, and of course, the weather was the main concern. It was snowing gently but quite steadily. It had turned warmer and there was a wind.

Mr. Smythe had asked Louisa to meet him after lunch so that he could help her pack her harp especially to protect the sensitive strings from the cold. As she waited for him in the music room, the girl sat down at her harp and played one of the pieces she was planning to use that evening. Her tones were golden, the glissandos falling upon the air with great beauty. As the final chords died away Mr. Smythe joined her.

“Do that well tonight, Louisa, and the judges just can’t refuse you one of the awards. Congratulations, I shall be very proud of you. By the way, the lists just came in, and you are the only harpist entered from all the schools.”

Louisa thanked him for his praise and then assisted him in. the packing of her harp.

At three o’clock the bus arrived. The bus driver stood outside, stamping his feet and beating his arms back and forth to keep them warm while he waited for the students to get in. “It’s plenty warm inside,” he told them, “and I have chains and a shovel. I’ll get you there.” He helped Mr. Smythe and some of the boys load the harp into the back part of the bus. The students took their places, and the Field Acres High School victory song rang down the road as they started off.

The first hour went fine, but by four o’clock it became extremely dark and windy. “It’s a near blizzard all right,” the driver reported to Mr. Smythe and Miss Morten. “I’ll have to slow down — it’s getting mighty hard to see.”

Louisa kept looking out of the window straining to see ahead, as if by so doing she could help the driver in his hard job of steering. Suddenly, there was a lurch and the bus stopped. The driver started the motor again, but they did not move. They could feel the wheels whirring, skidding, but they could not go forward.

“We’re stuck,” Louisa said in dismay.

Her despair was justified. They were caught in a drift at the side of the road where the driver had swerved, not being able to follow the road closely in the blowing snow.

Louisa moaned audibly, and the other students looked white and anxious.

Although the boys climbed out to help the driver shovel the snow away from the wheels and to put on chains, the bus could not be coaxed to go.

A car came along, and its driver tried to help. When all efforts proved futile, he said: “We’ll have to send aid and that may be difficult tonight. I can take five of you with me if you don’t mind crowding a little. We can put the small instruments in the trunk. We’ll send help back from Lancaster, but it’s going to be too late to get the bus there tonight, I’m afraid — at least in time for the concert.”

Louisa was frantic. Her harp — how could she ever get it there now? Why, why hadn’t she mastered a little instrument like Sarah Martin’s flute?

Four girls were sent on to Lancaster in the friendly driver’s car. Ten minutes later four more students found their opportunity with another helpful motorist. When one of the town officials came by in his car, Mr. Smythe urged Miss Morten to take the remaining girls and go. But Louisa was so anguished at leaving her harp, feeling that if she could only wait until the last perhaps a truck would come by and she could have it hauled in, that it was agreed to have her wait with Miss Morten.

Louisa was heartsick. After all of her hopes, all her work, her preparation, would she attend this concert and not be able to participate in it?

At last there was nothing to do but go, when an acquaintance from Field Acres came by in his car. Louisa could not restrain her tears, and she felt them freezing upon her cheeks. Miss Morten tried to comfort her.

“Don’t worry about the safety of your instrument, dear. Wilbur will guard it with his life, you know, and it will be back at Field Acres before you are. I am sure one of the other contestants will let you use her harp?”

“Oh, Miss Morten, I’m afraid it’s utterly hopeless. Mr. Smythe said there were no other harpists in the whole contest.”

“Well, perhaps the music director of Lancaster will know someone with a harp. My dear Louisa, I cannot help feeling you will be allowed to use your opportunity. You have earned it; you are deserving; we’ll just not lose hope. Will you do something with me?”

Somehow the firmness in Miss Morten’s voice brought a feeling of calmness to Louisa, and she shook her head affirmatively at the woman’s question.

“Fine,” Miss Morten said with a smile. “Pray with me silently — and we’ll both have faith that all will be well.”

A rather chilled but excited group of students assembled again at the hotel in Lancaster. They had dinner together, but Louisa was unable to eat much. She had, however, firmly resolved now not to let her own tragedy mar the evening for the other contestants.

At the end of the meal, one of the boys stood up. “I want to make an important motion,” he said, his dark eyes looking straight at Louisa. “I move that an award be given right now — award for the best sport I’ve ever seen — and let’s give it to Louisa Brandon.”

The enthusiastic cheers brought some pink into Louisa’s drawn face.

At the auditorium the participants were assigned to dressing rooms. Louisa tried to help the other girls in their preparations, as if by making them look their best, she would at least have a part in the activities. Sarah Martin squeezed the disappointed girl’s hand sympathetically, when the latter had finished arranging the flutist’s dark brown curls. Louisa herself was lovely in a long blue evening frock, her golden hair high on her head. Sarah sighed as she thought how lovely Louisa would have looked beside her own majestic harp.

Miss Morten went through rather hurriedly, but did stop long enough to pat Louisa lightly on the shoulder and say: “You’re giving a splendid performance right now, my dear.”

At last everyone was ready. Sarah and Louisa went out to peek through the curtain at the audience. Toward the back of the auditorium a group had gathered around a tall, stately woman with jet black hair. She was in evening clothes, a rich fur cape around her shoulders. She was signing programs for various people who were thrusting them toward her.

Louisa grabbed Sarah Martin’s arm excitedly: “Sarah, that’s Germina Tingesky, the great world-renowned harpist! She looks exactly like her pictures! Why, she’s going to attend our program tonight. Sarah, isn’t she wonderful?” Then quickly Louisa turned from the curtain, her handkerchief to her eyes.

Sarah was still peering avidly through the hole in the curtain. “Louisa, look, our own Miss Morten is talking to her now.”

Louisa did not answer, but this did not stop Sarah’s enthusiastic word-by-word description of the situation. Breathlessly she reported; “She has left the others and has gone somewhere with Miss Morten. Sarah turned from the curtain. “Oh, Louisa, don’t cry, Hon. This is just about the meanest thing I’ve ever heard happening to anyone.” Sympathetically she approached her friend, then stopped short. “Oh-oh, here they come — ”

Louisa mopped at her eyes and looked up. Beside Miss Morten stood Germina Tingesky, more lovely than Louisa had ever imagined and now looking at her with immense dark eyes full of kindness and sympathy.

Miss Morten spoke. “Madame Tingesky, this is Louisa Brandon, our school harpist. She is the young lady of whom I spoke. Her harp is out on the highway.”

Madame Tingesky looked at Louisa thoughtfully. “My dear, dry your tears. My harp is here in the music room. I shall have it brought down, and you may play on it tonight.”

Louisa met her gaze, her own eyes full of wonderment. Finally, she tried to speak: “Madame Tingesky, it is too much. I — I read how careful you are about the harp — I — ”

Madame Tingesky raised one hand to silence her. “Do you realize that you have given me a great privilege? The first fundamental of a true artist is to have feeling in his heart. Do you believe that I do not feel for you in your disappointment, in your eagerness to play this evening? Take the harp. Now go — I shall be out there listening to my own harp sing under your fine fingers.” She took the girl’s hands in her own and pressed them firmly. Then she left with Miss Morten to return to her place in the auditorium.

The high school musicians did well that night. The audience felt that the judges were going to have a hard task in making the selections. Uncle Marv sat in his place, his eyes eager for the time when his young niece would take her place on the platform. He did not know she was playing the instrument belonging to the world’s most famous woman harpist.

At last the curtain was raised on a magnificent golden harp. A sound of amazement was heard over the auditorium at the sheer beauty of the instrument. Louisa Brandon, raised to the pinnacle of gratitude for the great . gift made to her this night, walked in a new-found humility that centered in faith, to her place beside the shining instrument. Then with her hands resting on the strings she lowered her head for an instant. Never did a more thankful prayer come from a human heart, a prayer for the goodness of God through people like Madame Tingesky — for the active, strong faith of those like Miss Morten.

Louise played with graceful artistry. She felt that she must give her best to this lovely harp. The award no longer seemed the important matter, but sharing the beauty of this instrument with the audience before her — that was the thing. In a quick flash it seemed to Louisa that she could understand the goodness that had come through her anxiety of the day, and that out of it all something shone much brighter than opportunity or a feeling for success — humility and faith — they outweighed all else.

The audience sat enthralled, both at the beautiful picture before them and at the sweetness of the music that permeated the air. Their applause was hearty.

When the intermission was called in which the judges were to make their decision, Louisa hurried out of the wings to find Madame Tingesky. Going down the steps into the auditorium proper, she met the artist hurrying toward her. Her eyes were shining and she put her arms around the young musician: “I am proud, Louisa, proud that anyone so gifted should have used my harp. You must study hard, you have a great future ahead of you. Now, do not tell me ‘thank you’ — I read it in your eyes, and your fine music was gratitude enough, I assure you. The judges are ready. Now we shall see if I am right — ”

“Of the three awards, two will be presented to students at Field Acres High School and the other to Mason District School,” the chairman announced. “Will those named please come out on the platform? Violin: Toby Parkin, Field Acres High School. Cello: Doris Kenniston, Mason District School. Harp: Louisa Brandon, Field Acres High School.”

As Louisa went forward to accept her award she could hear in the midst of the applause a “Bravo, Louisa,” and that she knew came from her Uncle Marv — her own special judge.