Rafael Yglesias - Hide Fox, and All After

“What do you mean, specifically?” Goldby asked.

Raul hesitated briefly. “I suppose that I was wondering whether or not the social disintegration and Paul’s inability to rule correspond thematically.” Alec tittered, but he suppressed it. “That is to say, were you trying to show that Russia was unprepared, at so early a date, to absorb Paul’s liberal policies?”

Alec said judiciously, “That’s a good question.”

“Yes, it is,” Goldby said. “However, it’s almost that I was trying to point out an idea first expressed by Eric Hoffer, who I think is a remarkable though maligned man. He said that all idealists, who are willing to sacrifice human life for their ideal, can only, ultimately, destroy a nation. And he gives examples — Napoleon, Hitler, Lenin, Mao, Castro, and so on. That’s the central idea of the play.”

“I see,” Raul said thoughtfully. “That confirms many of my first impressions. Wouldn’t you agree, however,” he went on, catching Alec’s eye, “that, at first, Paul is in contact with the people, and when he is given the power to implement his ideals, he is then alienated from them?”

“Absolutely,” Goldby said, “absolutely. It is, in fact, the speech directly after Paul’s coronation when this becomes apparent.”

Both Raul and Alec nodded. A silence followed until Goldby stood up, saying, “Well!” as if casting off weighty thoughts. He extended a hand first to Raul, then to Alec, saying, “I must speak to Mr. Miller before tryouts begin. It was a pleasure speaking to both of you.”

Raul and Alec smiled at each other, waiting for Goldby’s exit to become complete. They waited until the echo from the metal stairway died out before they began laughing.

Their nervousness overrode everything else, however. Raul looked longingly and apprehensively at the clock. “Do we have time for a cigarette?”

“Surely,” Alec said. “But the question is — do we risk Miller’s disfavor at so critical a time?”

“You have a point. But where is the value of victory without the tension of risk?”

“True, that’s certainly true.” They took out cigarettes and lit them. Raul crumpled his empty pack, putting it in his pocket. “A pack since this morning. I shan’t live long.”

Alec smiled abstractedly. “If we hear anyone on the steps, hand me your cigarette. I’ll hide them under the desk, you go see who it is. That way,” he laughed, “we won’t be stamping them out and lighting them again.”

The air filled with tension as no one spoke. Suddenly Raul laughed aloud. Alec looked up. “I just thought,” Raul said, “all day today, two poor boys have been running down to Mike & Gino’s, risking being thrown out for leaving the school grounds, their arms loaded with books — Shakespeare and Balzac — looking for a schmuck named Raul, who asked them to do him this favor.”

“Is that true?”

Raul nodded.

“You’re a naughty boy, Raul.”

“We’re both naughty boys, and we’re both scared to death about tryouts.”

Alec laughed with relief, Raul joining him. “Oh, it’s marvelous,” Raul said, “what we will see in a matter of moments are some forty insecure egos playing the nonchalant leads.”

“Tryouts are a drag.”

“There’s something to them, though.”

“Yes, there is. It’s the same nervousness you get at a performance, and it’s valuable to survive it.”

They both half sighed. “They’re also a lot of bullshit,” Raul said, with uncalled-for vehemence.

“It’s time to go,” Alec said, “if we want good seats.”

They pressed their cigarettes out, bumping into each other while making a beeline for the bathroom. They laughed at themselves. “What egotists,” Alec said. “It’s incredible. Go in the other one.”

They were in the bathroom for ten minutes. They came out, faces severely expressionless, went down a flight of stairs and onto the stage.

They seemed to recognize no one, not even each other, as they converged with the large group that had come for tryouts. Their appearance was noted, because many, besides using the pessimism to camouflage their own hopes, believed they would get the major roles. It was no surety, however, and Miller paid no more attention to their entrance than to anyone else’s.

Ronald Black, the formidable offensive tackle, strutted about, assuring everyone that he would get the lead; John Henderson, the headmaster’s son, speaking of a minor role as his hope, though he seemed vehement when another actor was suggested for the Peasant, felt sure that Miller would give him a lead; Barry Davis, cynical of everyone’s egoism, despairing openly of his own, hoped for a major role and honestly did not expect to get it; and Al Hinton, the only truly modest candidate there, did not expect much and did not hope for much.

The others, having no knowledge, no system of rationalization, as to Miller’s method of casting, sat, like some thirty-odd virgins, on the collapsible chairs, blinded by the intense area lights. Mr. Miller, John Goldby, and Andy Rapp, the stage manager, sat on three chairs facing the semicircle. Goldby smoked a cigarette with authority, making all, even the most embittered veterans of tryouts, nervous by his untested influence. Mr. Miller, usually a transparent man, surprised Raul by his inscrutable countenance. And Andy Rapp had the pleasure of watching those whom he normally envied, uncomfortable in their testing period. Tryouts combine all the ambiguities of actors: they feel tested by people whose qualifications they deny are legitimate, yet which they cannot help themselves from soliciting. It frustrates and angers them; they are reduced to a foolish, weak state.

At the center of the semicircle, Hinton and Davis were guarding two seats for Raul and Alec. Their persistence, unusual for both, in saving those conspicuous seats confirmed many fears. And the smiling calm that Raul and Alec flashed on as they entered the lighted arena became the cue for many to be obsequious. This either creates a foothold or allows one the pleasure of quoting the bragging the object of this servility is taunted into; the only defense is exaggerated modesty.

Michael Sussbaum, who had played opposite Raul in Aria da Capo, approached the shouts of greeting from Raul, Alec, Hinton, and Davis. His chronic smile broadened beyond all possibility. He thought as he neared them that his early coming would impress everyone as familiarity; while those who noticed it put it down to a lack of subtlety, an overanxiousness to ingratiate himself.

“What do ya say?” Hinton called to Alec and Raul.

“How ya doin’, mah man?” Raul said, giving Hinton five.

Davis shook hands with Raul and then with Alec. “This is humiliating,” he said.

Alec lost his smile. “Well, you gotta face it.”

Raul sat down with the grace any actor has when he is center stage. He put his glasses in his jacket pocket and, smiling benignly, spoke in asides to Alec, while exchanging nods with others about the stage.

Alec sat with his arms folded, frowning at anyone who met his eyes, seeming bemused at Raul’s whispered quips.

“Here comes The Sussbaum,” Raul hissed.

“Number one Jew,” Alec said, moments before Mike extended his hand. Alec shook it silently. Mike’s smile looked as if it had been frozen into place.

“How have you been, Raul?” he asked, offering a hand.

Raul glanced haughtily at the extended organ. “Ah, alas, how have I been, Mike? How, indeed?”

Mike awkwardly put his hand back at his side.

“Are you a doctor, Mike, that you would ask after Raul’s health?” Alec asked.

“It’s concern for me, Alec. No, on second thought, it isn’t. You see, Alec, Mike wouldn’t want to have to fill in for me.”