"The 'what else' includes pricing the tickets and lining up a donation to pay for them, pricing the programs, and getting a donation to cover them too. We'll sell the programs for a dollar each. Best of all, I got a newspaper to agree this is news, not advertising. So the promotional space is free and front page."
"And you don't know if Jimmy will be there!"
"Oh, he'll be there all right. Walt will issue a challenge in the paper. Jimmy won't be able to show his face at any watering hole in town without being laughed at if he doesn't show up.
"The paper will run question requests up to a week before the debate at ten dollars a pop for processing and we get half. If your question gets picked, you get to ask it live at the debate."
"Shoot, Joe, you gonna charge for air?" a bemused Rey asked.
"I would if I could figure out how to do it. We will charge more for front row seats though."
"How much?"
"One hundred for the front row, fifty for the second and twenty for the third."
Rey gagged and sputtered, Doris smiled and Sondra Mae laughed out loud.
Joseph also smiled. "So then, now we've got the finances out of the way, let's talk about making this thing fun."
****
Renato Onofrio turned up out at the Daoud farm so early he must of gotten up at the crack of dawn.
"Renato. You're up early."
"Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure I caught you before you headed to town or something."
"What's up?"
Renato took out a check. "For starters, I want three front row seats. Then I wanted to ask if you needed any help, since you're organizing the debate."
"Sure. How would you like to be the timekeeper? You can do that from the front row and it will put you smack in the middle." Joseph paused, faintly embarrassed. "Listen, we don't have the tickets printed up yet."
"That's okay. Just write me a receipt and I'll pick the tickets up later, when you've got them."
****
"Hey, Debbie, how's it going?" Joseph Daoud asked as he walked into her office.
Debbie Mora's face bloomed with a smile. The business and advertising manager of the Grantville Times said, "Great and getting better."
****
Her boss, Lyle Kindred, was annoyed when he found out she had committed the paper to run what should be a series of ads as news. When he found out she had promised front page coverage, he blew a fuse.
Then she told him she agreed to split the income from selling ad space for prospective questions. He wanted to fire her on the spot. Instead, like the well-married man that he was, he stomped out of the office in high dudgeon. He went home so he could unload on his wife and cool off. He wanted to be calm when he came back and fired her.
When he got home and unloaded on his wife, to his utter shock, Mary Jo laughed so much she seemed almost ready to roll on the floor.
When he came back he called Debbie into his office. "My wife agrees with you. She says it is news, and she says we can afford to split the fee for running the proposed question. She says every question which comes in is five dollars we weren't getting before. She says the circulation will go up because people will want to see who asked what. She says-" With each repetition of the words "she says" Lyle got a shade redder in the face. "-it's going to be the best thing to ever happen to the paper.
"You had better hope she's right. Because if she isn't-well-let me put it this way, your job is riding on this one. If this proves to be something we've got to live down, you won't be here to see it. If we lose money on this, you're out of here one minute after I hear from the accountant."
****
"My boss is eating crow and enjoying every minute of it. I don't mind telling you I'm enjoying it even more than he is. He's already apologized three times." Somehow, Debbie's broad smile got even bigger. "Circulation is up, and I mean way up. Advertising is up, and I don't mean the questions either. People want their ads in our paper because they're getting seen. Ad space on the pages with the questions is at a premium. It's the highest paying space we've ever sold.
"Joseph, you have got to figure out how to get a rematch. I'm telling you, this is a bonanza for both of us."
****
On the way to the church to handle last-minute setup, Joseph's wife, Nina, said, "Joseph, I just noticed something. Almost everyone who volunteered who isn't a Lion is anti-Jimmy Dick. The rest are pro-Walt the barber.
"You noticed? Yeah, you're right. Everyone Jimmy Dick ever crossed, which is half of the serious drinkers in town, is coming out of the woodwork to buy a ticket. Seems like anyone Jimmy ever humiliated, which is half the people he crossed, is wanting to volunteer."
"Why?" Joseph's wife asked.
"Because they're hoping Jimmy will get knocked down a peg or two and they're wanting to feel like they helped make it happen."
****
There were no empty seats in the open seating section. Reserved seating did not lag far behind. The standing-room-only area overflowed and people were being turned away at the door.
A modestly dressed young woman-they were in a church after all-walked across the stage holding up a large sign reading "10 Min. to Bell." Five minutes later, a second lass walked on stage. Her sign read "5 min. to bell." The first one followed with a sign reading, "Any empty seats are now open." There were only a few empty seats, so only a few standees were able to sit down.
Reyburn Berry sought out Joseph Daoud. The man grinned from ear to ear. "Joe, I've got the gate count. At six hundred sold tickets they started turning people away. I have never been so happy to be so wrong in my life. At ten dollars a head, plus the premium tickets, we've already broke ten thousand dollars, not to mention the programs are sold out and early people who went down stairs to the bathrooms have already bought coffee and ice cream. Go ahead. Tell me 'I told you so.' I deserve to hear it."
"What did you say?" Joseph asked.
Reyburn repeated the admission, "I said, go ahead and tell me 'I told you so.'"
Joseph smiled. "Nope. It's been said twice already. I don't need to repeat it a third time. But there is one thing I would like to mention."
"What's that?" Reyburn asked.
With a completely straight face, Joseph said, "Well, this is a church, even if they are heretics. So I would like to say, 'Oh ye of little faith, did I not tell thee we would see at least te . . .'"
Reyburn tried to swallow a laugh and it came out as a snort.
****
Promptly at seven o'clock the bell, borrowed from a gas station, rang a fast series of sharp peals. Benjamin Franklin Leek, having bought the privilege of doing so by paying to print the tickets and the programs, walked on stage before the ringing stopped. A young woman preceded him carrying a sign with his name on it. In the drawn-out voice expected of a ringside announcer, he spoke without a mike, the acoustics in the building being what they were. "Ladies and gentlemen, this verbal duel will be a ten round match, to determine possession of the title, 'Grantville's Greatest Philosopher.'
"As published in the Grantville Times, who are graciously one of tonight's sponsors- for a complete listing of sponsors I refer you to the back cover of the program-this verbal duel will be decided round-by-round with the winner of the most rounds taking the title. If, perchance, it is an even tie, at the end of ten rounds there will be a sudden-death round to break the tie. Each round will be decided by popular vote. Two paper buckets, well, cones really, will be passed. Red for the challenger Walter 'Walt the Barber' Jenkins, and blue for the reigning champion James Richard 'Jimmy Dick' Shaver. You will cast your ballot for whomever you think the round should go to when the cones are passed. The ballot shall consist of paper money or personal checks only. Change will not be counted-and remember, be generous in your voting because all proceeds will go directly, and completely, to provide eyeglasses to needy children."