The Crime Crusaders Club

Case 12: "Jimmy & Drusilla's First Date"

By Mikel Midnight

song lyrics copyright Thomas Pynchon, with thanks to Byron Molix

The dark-haired girl with the face like Aphrodite looks up at the lights on the illuminated sign. Her companion admires the way they reflect in her eyes, momentarily lost for speech.

"Radio City Music Hall," Drusilla says wonderingly, "It's so much prettier than in any of the photographs I've seen ... and I can't believe I'm actually going to see Swing Sisson!" She leans up and kisses him on the cheek, "thanks, Jimmy."

Nearly everything about the Music Hall is trememendous. The 300 ton steel truss that supports the immense golden proscenium arch, sixty feet high, is the heaviest yet used in theatre construction. The orchestra is the world's largest theatre orchestra, and the stage has seventy-foot sections that can be raised forty feet from the sub-basement to a position fourteen feet above the normal stage level.

James Martin grins at her bashfully. "Just call me Jim," he says, trying to keep his voice in the lower register.

Drusilla purses her lips, "Oh, look at all the people going in, it's so crowded," she complains. "I'll get lost in there. Back in Themyscria we don't have these sorts of coloseums."

Jim reaches out for her, "Just hold on to my hand," he says, "you won't get lost."

Drusilla smiles again, squeezing his hand tightly. "Thanks Jimmy ... Jim," she corrects with a grin.

The couple weave their way through the doors of the large building, where Jim points out some of the more well-known fellow attendees, like retired judge Thomas Schaffer, glamorous heiress Kim Meredith, and millionaire playboy Thomas Halloway.

A waiter meanders past them carrying stuffed delicacies of mushroom caps, endives, and filo dough. Jim snatches a pair of endives, offering one to Drusilla who eats it from his hand. "Mmm," she says, "thank you. What's inside it?"

Jim takes a second bite, finishing his off. "I'm not sure, actually." He looks towards the entrances to the main part of the theatre, "the crowds thinned out here, maybe we should take our seats early so we won't have to wade through folks."

Drusilla follows his lead, "We can still hold hands though, right?"

Jim grins foolishly, "Oh, yeah," and gives her hand an affectionate squeeze.

The pair wind their way to their selected seats. Jim turns to his date, "What sort of music do you have back on Paradise Island? I know you like American swing but you've never told me what you grew up with."

Drusilla ponders for a moment, and then speaks haltingly as if sorting through her English vocabulary. "Not as many instruments, though we have lyres, harps, flutes, cymbals and things ... the sounds are very rhythmic, with uneven meters ... oh! the lights are going on and off!"

Jim smiles, "That just means they're ready to start ... the rest of the audience will be taking their seats, soon."

Finally the audience is packed in, and the lights dim. As the curtain raises, the rousing sounds of swing fill the room, a dapper dark-haired man in an immaculate white jacket leading the band. Drusilla sways in her seat, enchanted. Finally the sound of a saxaphonist can be heard from the wings, soaring above the other sounds of the band. The leader announces, "Toby Tucker on saxaphone, ladies and gentlemen, Toby Tucker!" The audience cheers loudly as the man walks on-stage from the left, carrying his sax and never missing a beat.

As the song finishes to a round of applause, the bandleader speaks into the microphone. "My name is Swing Sisson, ladies and gentlemen, and now allow me to introduce the other members of the band." He turns his back to the audience and proceeds, to the sounds of laughter from the crowd, to 'introduce' the band members to each other.

"Say Swing, you always leavin' me out of the loop?" says a melodious female voice from the wings, and a woman wearing a silver dress which shimmers in the stage lights enters from the right, to thunderous applause. "Bonnie Baxter, ladies and gentlemen," Sisson announces, as the woman takes the front microphone and gestures 'hit it' to the band:
Rhy-thm's got me,
Oh baby that swing, swing, swing!
Yeah the rhythm's got me
Just thinking that the whole-wide-world-can-sing,
Well I never heard-it, sound-so-sweet,
Even down around the corner-on, Ba-sin Street,
As now that the rhythm's got me, children let's
Swing, swing, swing,
Come on ... children, let's ... swing!

The band finishes on a flourish, the audience shouts and applauds and stamps their feet. Drusilla looks at Jim, beaming and mouthing a silent 'wow' as she joins in the applause.

Bonnie inclines her head graciously to the audience, and turns to mumble something to Sisson. She says into the microphone, "This next one's for all our boys overseas ... and all you scofflaws," here she waves her finger tut-tuttingly at the crowd, "You know who you are!" She winks and the band picks up:
Time to gather your butt up off the floor,
Brush your teeth and go toddling off to war,
Wave your hand to sleepy land,
Kiss those dreams away,
Tell Miss Grable you're not able,
Not till V-E Day, oh,
Ev'rything'll be grand in Civvie Street
Bubbly wine and girls wiv lips so sweet --
But there's still a German or two to fight,
So show us a smile that's shiny bright,
And then, as we may suggested once before --
Gather yer blooming butt up off the floor!

The audience laughs and applauds, as the singer gives a small bow. The haunting sounds of a clarinet, playing an almost classical tune, can be heard. The bandleader looks confused and turns back to the band but they all sit staring glassy-eyed, and he notes the singer frozen in place. A man enters the stage, wearing an old-fashioned tuxedo and a mask, carrying a conductor's baton.

Sisson announces, "The Maestro!" The audience, laughing and assuming this is part of the show, applauds the new arrival. Jim and Drusilla glance at other meaningfully, and the former reaches for a Miraclo tablet.

"Silence, you!" says the new arrival. A pied piper-esque figure enters the stage, carrying a clarinet, and the winsome melody he plays paralyzes the crowd. The pair of Crime Crusaders observe the scene, helpless from their seats.

"Stradivarius, ladies and gentlemen," announces the Maestro, indicating the clarinetist. "And my other new associate, Herman Stingmayer," he gestures with his wand and another suited man enters the stage.

Sisson growls, "So you're back with friends who've got funny tuxes and funny tricks, don't think I won't mop the floor with you again like I did the last time." He starts to lunge at the self-proclaimed Maestro, when Stingmayer pulls a tuning fork out from a music case, striking it and setting up a vibration which crumbles the ceiling above the bandleader, burying him in sheetrock.

The Maestro approaches the bandleader's stand, and taps it with his baton. "Ahem," he coughs. "While my associates relieve you of your excess pocket money and jewelry," Stradivarius and Stingmayer begin to mill through the paralysed audience doing just that, "I will speak to you about the dubious merits of this ... this 'jungle music' ... "

As he proceeds to lecture, an additional figure swings onto the stage using one of the curtain sashes: a man about 5'8" tall wearing a blue troubador's costume, with a black cap, white and blue boots and grey tights. His ruggedly handsome oval face is marred by a scar on his forehead, and beneath a pointed nose he sports a short blond moustache. He wears a golden earring in his left ear. The man's sparkling brown eyes look amused as he gives an unnerving Tarzan yell. "What you talking 'bout? You say you don't like the jungle beat. You must be craa-a-a-azy ... "

Jim thinks to himself, it's like Grand Central Station up there, what the heck is going on? And I'm stuck in my seat completely helpless!

The Maestro goggles at the newcomer. "Who ... what .. who are you?"

The man gives a theatrical bow, "Call me the Gay Troubadour, and I think I liked Toby Tucker's wind playing a lot more than your little friend's ... and Bonnie Baxter is definitely a lot easier on the eyes than you are!" At these words he grabs the baton from the Maestro's hands, breaking it in half over his knee.

The Maestro sputters, infuriated. "Don't ... don't just stand there, you fools! Get him!"

The Gay Troubadour leaps onto the tops of the seats, and dives towards Stradivarius, scattering what appears to be a handful of small seeds at him. The clarinetist backs away, raising his instrument to his lips, as his opponent slips a mandolin from around his back. As the latter strums a chord, directing it at Stradivarius, a small explosive sound is heard and the clarinet is suddenly jammed full of pop-corn.

As the pied piper-esque figure is silenced, the audience seems to snap out of its hypnotic state, and begins a stampede towards the doors. Jim and Drusilla look at each other silently, and take advantage of the confusion to switch to their costumed alter egos. Herman Stingmayer and the Gay Troubadour are engaged in a fierce musical battle as Minuteman and Wonder Girl join the fray.

"Drusilla," Minuteman whispers, "I've just got one shot here, so use your strength to try to help people in the crowd get out safely ... so nobody gets stampeded ... I'll get as close as I can."

Wonder Girl nods, just as she glances upwards and sees a stray blast from one of Stingmayer's tuning forks crumble the face of an interior wall. She captures it using her indestructible lasso and swings it out of harm's way before it lands on any of the fleeing patrons.

The Maestro has pulled a gun from a shoulder holster and aims it at the Gay Troubadour, when he finds his sighting blocked by an hourglass. He grunts at the young man standing before him and fires away, the bullet recoiling off of Minuteman's chest. "That's one of my favorite sounds, you know that?" says the Crime Crusader. "Right after, 'It's a fair cop.'" His powerful hand sweeps out, knocking the Maestro down for the count.

The Gay Troubadour readies another handful of seeds to toss at Herman Stingmayer, but his opponent is too fast for him and a note from a tuning fork explodes the popcorn in the Troubadour's face. He recoils in surprise, and a sonic blast from Stingmayer destroys the row of seats out from under him, causing the man to fall to the ground in an unbalanced crash.

As the Gay Troubadour desperately attempts to clear his head, fumbling for his mandolin, Herman Stingmayer approaches, cackling. "I've never used a tuning fork to disintegrate flesh before, it would make an interesting ack!"

The Gay Troubadour looks up, "An interesting ack?" only to hear Stingmayer 'ack!' again as he is suspended from a nearby light fixture by Wonder Girl's golden lasso. "That will enough from you, sir," says the amazon.

"Well, thank you kindly ma'am," says the Gay Troubadour, bowing. "I'm sure you saved my bacon right then and there."

Minuteman approaches the pair, "You did pretty well for yourself, too. I don't believe I've had the pleasure?"

"Garrison Tunney, the Gay Troubadour, at your service," he says, doffing his cap to reveal blond hair which blows in the slight draft impressively. "And you two are from the Justice Society?"

Minuteman and Wonder Girl look at each other laugh. "Hardly, more like their junior auxiliary. Actually we're both members of the Crime Crusaders Club."

"Ah, Jim Anthony's group, right? I've heard of you."

"You have?" Minuteman asks, amazed.

Wonder Girl beams and extends a hand. "Have you considered joining a team? The Crime Crusaders are all good people, and we could use someone with your skills. I think you ... um ... saved our bacons today, too."

The Gay Troubadour grins. "Let's go grab some fish and chips and talk it over."