Now there had been tom-wallagers in the Palace Flophouse but never such a bull-bitch tom-wallager as was now in the process of exploding. The outside was freshly whitewashed. Beds were pushed together, and the interior was a bower of pine boughs crossed to make a canopy. The great stove was laid out as a bar and the oven was full of cracked ice. In front of the back door a little stage was built, with a painter’s dropcloth for a curtain and the door for an entrance—for certain theatrical effects, not counting the raffle itself, were planned for that area.
This forest bower was lighted by Japanese lanterns, and a string of lanterns led down to the chicken walk above the railroad track. The boys were pleased with their effort.
Mack surveyed the scene and put a name to it that was remembered. “A veritable fairyland,”[104] he said.
The Patrón had contributed his prize group of musicians, the original Espaldas Mojadas—two guitars, gourds, bones, castanets, and Haitian drum, and last, a guitarón as big as a rowboat. Cacahuete Rivas, the nephew of the Patrón, was scheduled to join his trumpet to the band later, but now he was on the beach, practicing his solo softly.
As evening came to Cannery Row the boys were tired but content. Following Mack’s lead, they all agreed to be trees. After all, they were the hosts. Their one sorrow was that Hazel had left them. His yearning to be Prince Charming had overcome his love for his friends. In Joe Elegant’s tiny bedroom he was being transformed.
“Caught me with my pants down,” Mack apologized for the twentieth time. “Hazel’s such a mug you forget he’s sensitive. Hell, I could of worked out some kind of charming rig if I’d give it some thought. Don’t seem right without him here to mess things up.”
It is customary at most masquerades for the arriving guests to be shy, ill at ease, and sober, and to stand around uneasily for maybe an hour before the party warms up. In this matter of starting a party Cannery Row is far ahead of some other centers of culture. The party was to start at 9:00 P.M. sharp. The guests would be notified by the trumpet of Cacahuete Rivas, playing “Whistle While You Work.”[105]
At least two hours before the signal a series of small earnest parties, at Wide Ida’s, the Bear Flag, and in private homes, were practicing for the main event. This party was going to begin in full bloom. Of course Mack and the boys were so weighed down with responsibility that they didn’t get the best out of their liquor; still, they made progress, and they watched the big hand of the alarm clock on the back of the stove.
In the Bear Flag the pageantry was spread all over the floor. Snow White was going to have, as ladies of honor, some of the best-known and most respected hookers north of San Luis Obispo. The ladies were dressing in filmy gowns of red, yellow, and green, and each one was to carry a bottle of whisky garlanded with ribbons to match her dress. Fauna was going as a witch. It was her own idea. The only costume she really needed was a broom, but she had made a peaked black hat and a black alpaca wrap-around to carry the part off. But Fauna had a payoff. When the big moment came she was prepared to fling off her black gown, switch broom for wand, and emerge as the fairy godmother.
Wide Ida’s was dwarf country. Eight Happys, four Sneezys, six Dopeys, and nineteen Grumpys clustered about the bar, earnestly singing “Harvest Moon” in one-and-a-half-part harmony.
Joseph and Mary had elected to go as Dracula. He hadn’t seen Snow White, but to him a moving picture was a moving picture.
At Western Biological, Doc and Old Jingleballicks were hopelessly enmeshed in a discussion of tobacco mosaic. When the dam had burst a flood followed. A garbage can stood in the middle of the floor, and in it, nestled in crushed ice, the six remaining bottles of a case of champagne bought by Old Jay.
Doc and Old Jay had completely forgotten the party. When Cacahuete’s trumpet sounded the call to arms they were shouting so loud they didn’t hear it. When the youth and beauty of Cannery Row walked gaily up the lantern-lit chicken walk Old Jay and Doc were still screaming at each other.
Suddenly Doc dropped his voice, and it had the effect of a loud noise. “I think I will go away,” he said. “I have tried with every sinew and I have failed.”
“Nonsense!” said Old Jay. “Young man, you are at the threshold of a great career.”[106]
“But what do I care for honors?”
“How do you know? You never got any,” said Old Jay.
“Don’t try to hold me back, Old Jingle.”
“I won’t. There’s too many of you already. Do you realize you haven’t cooked any dinner?”
“I bought a pound of hamburger and you ate it raw before I got it near a pan.”
“You shouldn’t starve yourself, young friend,” said Old Jingleballicks.
Eddie hurled himself up the steps and flung open the door. “Doc!” he cried. “For God’s sakes! She’s started! They’re going to draw!”
Doc picked a bottle from the ice. “Arm yourself, Old Jingleballicks. Forward!”
They had to help Old Jay up the chicken walk.
The drawing was being held for them. Dwarfs, animals, monsters, were drawn up in half-circle, facing the curtain.
“I guess we’re all here,” said Mack. He looked behind the curtain. “You all right, Johnny?”
“Goddam cold,” said Johnny.
And at that moment Hazel entered proudly, his chin up, his eyes flashing with dignity. Joe Elegant had worked all day to get his revenge on mankind, and Hazel was the result. The basis of his costume was long gray underwear, to which were sewed hearts, diamonds, spades, and clubs in red and black. Hazel’s army shoes had yellow pompoms on the toes. An Elizabethan ruff of stiff paper was around his neck, and on his head a Knight Templar’s hat[107] with a white ostrich plume. From the belt around his middle hung a long scabbard. His right hand proudly held a cavalry saber at salute.
Joe Elegant had concentrated his revenge in one area. The drop seat of the costume had been removed and in its place, right on the essential surface of Hazel himself, was painted a bull’s eye in concentric circles of red and blue.
Hazel was a breathtaking sight. He did not glance around. He knew he was right—he knew it by the silence. Smartly he turned the saber to parade rest and crossed his hands on the hilt. His breath caught in his throat.
“I,” he said huskily, “I am Prince Charming.” And the company could see now that his cheeks were rouged and his eyelashes beaded. “I proteck dam—damsels,” he announced. And only then did he turn his proud head for the applause and approval he knew he merited.
104
“A veritable fairyland”: According to Susan Shillinglaw in
105
“Whistle While You Work”: Song featured in Walt Disney’s animated movie
106
threshold of a great career: Old Jingleballicks echoes Ralph Waldo Emerson’s salutation to Walt Whitman, after the philosopher had read the first edition of the younger man’s
107
Knight Templar’s hat: The Knights Templar is a Christian-oriented organization founded in the eleventh century. Originally, the Knights Templar were laymen who protected and defended Christians traveling to Jerusalem. These men took vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, and were renowned for their fierceness and courage in battle. All Knights Templar are members of the world’s oldest fraternal organization, known as “The Ancient Free and Accepted Masons” or, more commonly, “Masons.” The hat Steinbeck refers to is plumed.