Same River Twice, part 4

... so when he met Parker, Darren, Brandon and Phil (the pianist) he shook hands with the confidence that he was destined for the second tenor role with the Ohio River Boys.

Reality is a terrible thing. And so, thought Marshall, is Parker Sanders. The portly, Old Spice-smelling tenor hissed at Marshall after nearly every bar of every song during the hour-long tryout, which consisted mainly of hymns and old revival meeting sing-a-longs. Hissed at him to find his part, enunciate, straighten his posture, breathe, pay attention to the other parts, stop singing from his throat, stop singing through his nose, project … the tyrant had Marshall wishing he were back at Earl’s, enduring taunts, stopping flying pitchers with his head, and making eyes at Jenny Lou when not unconscious due to said flying pitcher. At least then, when not unconscious due to said flying pitcher, he could slur his words and breathe whenever he wanted.

Still, he craved this spot. The Ohio River Boys rocked. Their three voices sounded like twenty. They soared high, plunged low, and blazed forward on toe-tappers, then lullabied through peaceful hymns. Marshall had to get a piece of this action. To find himself on stage with an appreciative, sober, worshipful audience. And if they weren’t worshiping him per se, well, it’s not like the object of their praise would come down to claim it.

Not knowing that Parker would have hissed at King David himself during an audition, Marshall held little hope when they shut him out in the hall so they could vote. The minutes crept and the decibel level inside the choir room rose to combative levels. He pressed his ear to the door in time to hear something about “crazy Uncle Carl” and then either Brandon or Phil say “that pinhead.”

He jerked his ear away. “Me,” he thought. “Are they calling me a pinhead?”

Before he could eavesdrop again, Parker opened the door. “You’re in,” he said. “You need a lot of practice and a vocal strengthening regimen. And memorize our songs real quick-like. We hate singing trio.”

Marshall referred to the next few weeks as “vocal boot camp,” a period of unlearning the sloppy habits he’d developed in other styles and learning patience, because he longed daily for Parker’s death. Still, he mastered the songs and formed friendships with Darren, Brandon, and Phil, though occasionally he heard “pinhead” under someone’s breath, followed by dopey grins and stifled chuckles. And they kept glossing over his songwriting prowess. Like after the first time he

TO BE CONTINUED ....