afternoon where several local youths were to receive an aptitude test in guitar playing. Bill had been vaguely aware of Rosalie’s driving Charles and Joseph to the school several times during the past month, having been invited to do so by a woman who had come to the door and announced that the school, anxious to promote music appreciation among young Californians, was willing to loan them guitars for a few dollars and to give them free lessons in the hope of discovering and encouraging musical talent. Now, Rosalie explained, their two sons were among a group to be examined by instructors, and all parents had been requested to observe the test and to witness the awarding of trophies to those students who made a passing grade.
While Bill was not particularly anxious to spend the afternoon in the company of a noisy pack of guitar-strumming pupils, he had nothing better to do, and he also felt obligated to attend because he had been away from the children so often this month and because on the following Thursday he would again be leaving home to visit his father in Tucson. Bill also sensed how excited his sons had seemed today about the test, and as soon as they returned home from their regular school they proceeded to drill one another on the material from which the examination would be drawn. Bill thought it odd that the instructors would give the students the answers in advance, but when he was assured by Charles and Joseph that they were not reading from a stolen test and that all the students had been issued the same preexamination sheets, he said nothing more.
Now in the car, driving toward the school, Bill could detect increased anticipation in the back seat, where Charles and Joseph were jumping up and down as they recited their answers to the questions, arguing, singing, and chanting.
One banana,
Two banana
Three banana
Four…
Five banana
Six banana
Seven banana
More…
“OK, OK,” Bill called back to them, after Tory and Felippa began to join in, “calm down. I’m trying to drive.”
They remained quiet for a few moments as Bill continued slowly through a crowded business district that was congested with the first waves of homeward-bound commuter traffic. Rosalie sat next to him, her head bent forward as she read from a textbook in preparation for her computer class later this evening. The children soon began to bounce on the seats again, whistling, pushing, and then Charles and Joseph burst into a song that they had obviously rehearsed together.
Write me a letter
Send it by mail
Send it in care of
Birmingham jail
Oh Birmingham jail…
“Stop it, will you please!” Bill shouted, as Rosalie also turned, frowning at the children.
“It’s one of the songs we play in class,” Charles said. “I don’t care,” Bill replied. “I’m trying to drive, and you’re giving me a headache. I don’t want any more noise back there or I’m turning around and we’re going home.”
The boys maintained their silence for the few remaining miles until they had arrived at the place where they were to be tested. The building was actually a large music store, with wide display windows in the front showing photographs of Glen Campbell, Elvis Presley, and other television personalities, in addition to a number of glittering and colorful electric guitars. As Bill entered the store, following Rosalie and the children, who knew the way to the audition rooms in the rear, he saw many long-haired teen-agers standing around, and from the ceiling dangling from thin strands of wire were electric guitars and instruments of every variety.
At the end of a corridor, seated along a row of folding chairs against the wall were a dozen children with their parents, and in one corner behind a desk a middle-aged blonde was writing down the names and addresses of the people as they arrived. Above her head was a sign THE RICHEST CHILD IS POOR WITHOUT MUSIC and to her right was a large bulletin board on which were at least fifty individual photographs of smiling young people holding guitars or displaying their trophies. There was also a sign on the bulletin board LESSONS MUST BE PAID FOR IN ADVANCE.
As Rosalie and the children sat waiting and Bill wandered through the store looking at the instruments, the doors of the audition rooms in the rear were opening and closing, while pupils came and went with their parents and the instructors waved good-bye or said hello to the participants in this musical crash course. None of the children who