Beatrice made sure all the blood had been cleaned off the creaky, old hardwood floor before locking up for the night. Carlos was meticulous about cleaning things up. He was good, but somehow Beatrice always managed to find a speck of something. Tonight had been a particularly messy night. She had become somewhat fidgety, worried that the third floor would not be pristine for the next performance.
She had seen a lot of changes to the Union Street Library over the past fifty years of her dedicated employment. Getting rid of books that hadn’t been touched in fifty years and throwing out the shelving racks was a difficult thing for the head librarian to do. But, after tonight, she was certain it was the right thing to do.
###
Beatrice remembered how the library had been about being stolid, stodgy, and silent when she first became employed. Beatrice’s grandmother and mother, who worked at the library before her, taught her that the library was a place of reverence, where being quiet was the expectation and not the requirement. The ancient but beautiful neoclassical building had seen a lot of changes since 1882 when it first opened. The major transition from a place for quiet solitude to one of active, purposeful noise began happening in the late 1980s within the confines of the high-ceilinged, dark-wooded, wrought-ironed, ornate interiors. That’s when the city library apportionment was at its highest and technology was introduced. Out with the cards and in with computers, microfiches, printers, and all the other innovations of the time. Little did Beatrice know that these new innovations would threaten her beloved library’s own existence. She didn’t care for the noise that technology seemed to bring into her precious venue. Being old-school, it was hard to accept. But, accept it she did. Anything to keep her job and her love for the library intact was why she readily went with the changes.
As a new employ in the 1980s, she didn’t have time to think about what modernization really meant. The fact the library budget was at its highest gave everyone optimism about the importance at their place of employment.
The only difference between her mama’s family and Beatrice, as head librarians, was the change in purpose and goals of their public library. Beatrice realized that the library had to reach out through workshops, book clubs, deliveries, and other means of reaching the home as technology enveloped everything. But, it seemed to be never enough.
It began with the decline in the city apportionment to the library and the increase in ways for easy access to entertainment. Sure, the library was free, but to Beatrice’s frustration, that wasn’t good enough with all the other at-home options available for reading. Her beautiful library even tried, in addition to books––books on tape. To counter the lack of new readers, she begrudgingly started offering VHSes and then DVDs of classic stories for free rentals. But, it always seemed like a losing battle as city budgetary constraints lowered her budget for book purchases and other reading materials. Additionally, her library staff seemed to dwindle every year due to budget cuts. Dare someone retire, because for certain, there would be no replacement. She felt it was her duty to continue working past retirement to keep her precious library afloat.
Beatrice knew this year’s December council meeting that she had to attend would be a challenge. As required, Beatrice submitted her yearly requested budget one week in advance of the meeting. With the budget she also had to submit the yearly logs of library usage. Since there were a lot of patrons who didn’t check out books, Beatrice had installed gate counters several years before, as a means to better inform the mayor how much the library was actually used. She paid for this out of her own pocket since the paltry library budget couldn’t afford this cost. After all, she did have quite a few spend a lot of time in the library without ever taking anything out. Retired or for whatever reason, many patrons seemed to live in the library during opening hours. They were the ones who would come in at 9:00 a.m. with a bagged lunch to read the newspapers, magazines, books, and other materials. Some didn’t leave until the 9:00 p.m. closing. Beatrice had to include these people because she knew she had to try to justify to the mayor why the library existed. But, even these numbers were no longer enough to make the mayor happy. She and the mayor had never gotten along. Besides thinking she wasn’t very smart, Beatrice blamed her for being a spinster.
The mayor and her council sat in comfortable, well-cushioned rolling chairs in a semicircle on a raised dais where they could look down like gods at whoever had the lectern beneath them. The mayor was always talking about taxpayers’ money, which made Beatrice wonder where she came up with the budget to buy those chairs. It tended to be a humiliating experience that Beatrice hated having to do each December.
“Well, Miss Beatrice, I see the library is doing poorly at bringing in new patrons.” Beatrice could tell the mayor’s voice had a mixture of a sarcastic and patronizing tone.
“I think we’ve stabilized and things will improve.”
The mayor chortled a little, looked around at her council, and said, “Glad you can remain optimistic.”
Before Beatrice could respond, the mayor rasped, “Seriously? It looks like things are as bad as usual.”
Shaking her head, looking over her spectacles, the mayor added, “I really would like to gut that building, maybe tear it down, and use that prime property for something like a recreation center.”
“Ma’am, that building is a historical landmark.” Beatrice didn’t vote for this ignorant woman and hated dealing with her every year. She stole her sweetheart in high school and now, forty-five years later, she wanted to take her library. She knew the mayor, who had probably never set foot in the library, was baiting her. The mayor loved to play to her constituents about lowering taxes and better use of taxpayer money. She’d been reelected three terms running and was probably going for a fourth. Beatrice could have sworn the mayor was looking at the newspaper reporter, who was in attendance, when she started grinning and talking about saving taxpayers’ dollars.
“Come on now, the place is falling apart…you know, we can’t afford the upkeep.”
Beatrice was unsure how to argue with the mayor. She knew the mayor wouldn’t listen if she tried arguing. Previously, Beatrice had the support of a majority on the council, but now she wasn’t so sure. Beatrice was becoming desperate. It wasn’t her idea, but the city’s chief of police’s idea that she’d been mulling over in her head for months. She knew the mayor was going to try to do something drastic unless she could make a guarantee of some sort. Something that could give her one more year was all Beatrice wanted. Desperate times call for desperate measures, thought Beatrice.
“Ma’am, if the city can budget the library one more year, I guarantee we’ll return money to the city coffers to help alleviate the taxpayers of this city next December.” Beatrice hated kowtowing to this woman but didn’t really have a choice.
The mayor burst out laughing with her annoying chortle. She swung her head to the left and then to the right, gazing at her council. She grinned and said, “Beatrice, your library has never made money.”
Before Beatrice could speak, the mayor loudly interjected like she really cared, “That wasn’t a big deal when people actually used the place.”
Taking a deep breath, the mayor added with an even more louder-toned, skeptical emphasis, “But now, no one uses it, and you’re actually promising us a return on our investment?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Before the mayor could speak, Beatrice added, “If we don’t give money back to the city next December, I promise I’ll retire, and you can do whatever you want with the building.”
Beatrice knew she would probably regret saying that, but she had to do something.
###
The next day, Beatrice called the chief of police to see if he could drop by early. He usually came to the library every other day to read the newspaper and return books. She liked Stan. He was not the typical blue-collar, high school graduate sort. Whether he was college educated or not didn’t matter; she knew he loved to read and use her library. Though twenty years younger, she saw him as a friend of the library who could be counted on to help try to save it. The first time she met him, she admittedly was surprised at his being so erudite despite being at times somewhat crude. Stan knew all the classics. He loved Steinbeck, Faulkner, and Twain. But he appreciated humor, like you would find in Kurt Vonnegut. And, his love for science fiction and classic horror impressed her all the more. She liked his knowledge of theater and the fact that for years he had participated in the town’s community house theater. Beatrice thought of him as the true definition of a Renaissance man. If he weren’t so much younger, she could see herself dating him.
When Stan arrived, he brought Beatrice her favorite Starbucks brew of latte with caramel. They had discussed the library and its problems many times before. When Beatrice told Stan about the mayor and her presenting the budget the night before, he said, “That Mayor Thompson is a real clit.”
Beatrice blushed, but before she could speak, Stan said, “You know, Kesey’s book—One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest… That’s what McMurphy said about Nurse Ratched.”
Beatrice pretended to know what he was talking about, though what he said still embarrassed her.
Staring at Beatrice, Stan finally said, “Never mind.”
Moving on as fast as she could, Beatrice said, “I was thinking about your idea to save the library and…I would like to try it.”
Beatrice could tell Stan was a little surprised that she would go for his idea. After a long pause, he responded, “Great …when do you want to start?”
“Well, I do have one condition.”
“Condition?”
“I like the idea of turning the top floor into a mini-theater. And…I’m even okay with your idea for having props.”
“And?” Stan was surprised 63-year-old Beatrice would go entirely for his idea for props. He wasn’t sure if she knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Whatever classic we choose to do…I want to demand the audience read the book before they come see the production.” Pausing, Beatrice added, “I want it where patrons will need to pass my test on their reading the book to be able to purchase a ticket.”
Stan started laughing loudly, even though he knew Beatrice still liked the library to be a quiet place. Finally, he said, “Beatrice, my dear, I promise if we do these plays like we talked about, you won’t have any trouble getting people to read the books first.”
“That’s all I want. It’ll help keep my integrity and the library’s integrity intact.”
“So how about Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men?”
“Ohhhhh, Stanley, that would be wonderful.” Beatrice liked Steinbeck just like Stan. She asked, “Why did you choose that one?”
“We’ve done that book at the community theater, and it wouldn’t take much to get ready.”
Smiling, Beatrice coquettishly said, “And, I wonder why you’ve been doing that book.”
“Well, maybe I had a little to do with that.”
“And the props we talked about? Do you think we can get away with using prisoners to help with the production?”
“Beatrice, don’t worry about that. I’ve got it. Your job is to get the third floor ready. We’ll be ready to put on the show in six weeks.”
“What about advertising?” Beatrice needed this to be a success for the library and to satisfy the mayor.
“Don’t worry about that. This will only be for the right kind of people. Those that want to see a show as close to real as possible. I’ll get the audience and the ticket sales taken care of.”
“Oh, Stanley, you’re doing so much.” Beatrice was excited, but she was worried that her friend was taking on too much of the work.
“It’ll be okay.”
Though psychologically painful to get rid of books, it didn’t take Beatrice long to have the area of the third floor emptied of shelves and countless books. They tried a book sale to make a little money and remove dust-ridden books that had not been touched in years. As expected, the sales only netted a small amount of money. Beatrice figured out of pity from friends of the library, she was able to make 223 dollars. The mayor dropped by during the two-day sale with her wimp husband and laughed as she said, “So, Beatrice, is this how you’re planning on being in the black next year?”
Beatrice had had enough of her and, without thinking, said, “Thelma, I’m afraid we aren’t selling any Dick and Jane books in this sale.”
The mayor looked somewhat miffed, glanced back at her husband, and tersely said, “Get your ass in motion,” and left without saying anything.
The mayor’s husband, hiding behind his wife, took time to smile and say, “Goodbye, Beatrice.”
Beatrice muttered, “Bye, Harmon” and watched him trot after his wife like a puppy trying to keep up with its indifferent mother.
It doesn’t really matter what I say to the mayor at this point, thought Beatrice. Unless they could end in the black, as she promised, it would be the end of the library.
Stan told Beatrice that his cast needed to practice in private, and no one, including her, should be allowed onto the third floor until the night of the show. The day she saw cameras being brought into the library, she had to ask Stan what that was about?
Stan simply said, “A lot of the audience wants to watch the show on their computers at home. They’re sort of private people.”
Beatrice said, “That seems really strange, but as long as they pass my quiz, I’m okay.”
Stan giggled a little and said, “You got it.”
The night of the show, Beatrice counted forty-four attendees. She was disappointed, having set up over two hundred chairs. She recognized several police force members, city lawyers, a few from the medical profession, and the town judge. These were people who had from time to time come into the library. Beatrice never forgot a face and was surprised that some of the attendees were people she had never seen before. She was happy when a father brought his three teenage children to the performance. The fact that the children had read Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men was encouraging—to think that not all youth were destined for illiteracy.
The performance was not taken directly from Steinbeck’s book, but snippets of dialog from the 1992 movie version starring Gary Sinise and John Malkovich were used to drive the performance directed by her friend Stan. That was okay with Beatrice if reading the book beforehand could be verified through her quiz. While there were only forty-four attending, she was happy to know that there were over one hundred attendees total. She was happier that all ticket buyers passed her book quiz as well.
###
“So, what’d you think?” Stan had been talking to the town judge when he saw Beatrice with Carlos, starting the cleanup.
Beatrice really liked the production. “Stanley, I thought it was awesome. The fight scene looked so real. And, the final scene with George and Lennie was so very moving.”
“Is there anything we could do better?” Beatrice felt good that Stan wanted feedback from her.
“The only thing that seemed a little off was when George shot Lennie at the end in the back of the head.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the gun was so loud, and the fake blood coming out of Lennie’s mouth looked so real. But, if I remember the story, I think Lennie was supposed to be smiling before he was shot.”
Stan said, “I suppose that did get a little away from the novelette.”
“And not to be picky, but you could tell it was a different Lennie at the end. This one looked like he was drugged. And, I certainly don’t remember Lennie’s body being dragged away by the lynch mob like he was in the end.”
Stan could tell Beatrice didn’t understand what he meant by using human props throughout the production.
“What did you think about the fight scene using some of my prisoners?”
“Oh, I liked that. I believed they were actually hitting each other. The blood did look so real. How’d you get them to participate?”
Stan sheepishly said, “I had to have a little help from the judge and lawyers to make it happen.”
“Help?”
“Most of the prisoners were okay with participating in the show if we took time off their sentences.” Pausing, Beatrice could tell Stan had to say something else. Finally, he added, “The fight scene was real. Cons actually don’t mind brawling with each other.”
Beatrice put her hand to her mouth as Stan continued.
“I mentioned using the prisoners as human props, you know.”
Stuttering, Beatrice said, “Well, well, yes, but I didn’t know it was going to involve violence…I just figured it was to build the props for the show.”
Before Stan went much further explaining the role of the prisoners, he said, “Here’s your check from the proceeds.”
Beatrice had a shocked look on her face when she saw the check’s amount. She gasped while saying, “Stanley, how could the library make 3,320 dollars with…what did you say––only 122 tickets sold?”
“The tickets live were 200, and the televised viewers were 100 dollars per ticket…the library gets twenty percent as I promised.”
Not wanting to hurt Stan’s feelings, Beatrice softly said, “Stanley, who would pay this kind of money for our little community theater?”
Beatrice could tell Stan didn’t want to talk, but she knew that he would have to tell her everything for this to continue.
After quite some time and after intent staring from Beatrice, Stan stammered and said, “There was a reason that Lennie was a different person in the end.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Beatrice, dear, I want you to know I had the judge’s and lawyers’ approval to do this.”
Beatrice was clueless as she said, “Not sure I understand.”
“You know that dad that came in with the three children?”
“Yes?”
“Well, the dad wanted to see the man that raped and murdered his children’s mama executed.”
Beatrice gasped but, staring intently at the check, she managed to stay calm. Stan quickly said, “Beatrice, doing it this way saves taxpayers a lot of money and gave that family a lot of satisfaction.”
Beatrice kept looking at the check as Stan continued, “Whether we consider it sick or not, there are a lot of people that will pay big bucks to see someone die…I mean, the show did a community service, made the library a lot of money, and made a lot of folks happy.”
Beatrice continued staring at the check as Stan kept trying to get her to speak. “Beatrice? If you’re okay with this, my cast is all for doing The Ox-Bow Incident in six weeks.”
Beatrice remained silent to the point Stan implored, “Beatrice, please say something.”
As if brought out of a trance, Beatrice finally looked up and muttered, “Break a leg.”
THE END
