1954, p.1
1954, page 1
1954
Pepper Pace
Editor
FirstEditing
©Pepper Pace Publications
Copyright © 1954 by Pepper Pace, 2021, 2022
1954 first appeared on Amazon Kindle Vella in 2021. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, except for short excerpts appearing in book reviews. For reprint or excerpt permission inquiries, please contact the author by e-mail at: pepperpace.author@yahoo.com
This novel is a work of fiction. Characters – including their names, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are otherwise used fictitiously. Any similarity from this book to events occurring in real life – including locations, or persons living or dead is wholly coincidental. The use of musical titles and the naming of musical artists is not an infringement of copyright per sections 106 and 106A, the fair use of a copyrighted work.
Praise for 1954!
“This is Genius!!
Reviewed in the United States on July 14, 2021
This is genius. Bailey is so right. 1954 reminds me of The Truman Show. I knew that Pepper Pace would rock the hell out of this story. I love the characters and the bond that is forming. They are acting but they are feeling each other as well!! I'm so ready for more…”
“Another great story from the mind of Pepper Pace!
Reviewed in the United States on November 1, 2021
This is such a good story. I was hooked from the first page. I feel like I’m transported in time to the 50’s…
“Wonderful Story!
“Reviewed in the United States on September 27, 2021
I love this story! It really draws the reader into the emotions of the characters. And it has everything I love about a book- it’s creative, intriguing, it keeps me entertained, and it addresses important issues. Please read this series- you’ll be so glad you did!”
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A note from the author
Thank you for joining me on this journey. 1954 feels like a wonderful odyssey! It was previously published as an episodic series. It worked perfectly for that platform, but I knew that it was always meant to be a book.
I sent it to the editors and thought that I might condense it. But this tale didn’t need to fit into the tidy little format that most books fall into. The storyline needed no adjustments.
That is why the story that you are getting is the equivalent of three books in one!
No worries because there really isn’t a dull moment in the lives of these folks. Enjoy!
-Pepper Pace,
June 2022
Contents
A note from the author
ACT I
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
ACT II
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
ACT III
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Chapter Eighty-Four
Chapter Eighty-Five
Chapter Eighty-Six
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Chapter Eighty-Nine
Chapter Ninety
Chapter Ninety-One
Chapter Ninety-Two
About The Author
Pepper Pace Books
ACT I
Chapter One
Bailey opened the email and reread the short message for the third time.
Miss Westbrook, you have been selected to move to the next phase of audition. Please dress in the appropriate manner based on your character outline. Authenticity is a key to moving onto phase three of this project.
The email then provided the time and location for the audition. However, there was no script for her to rehearse.
She navigated to the Facebook group called Rising Stars! It gave encouragement to up-and-coming actors and actresses, and sometimes even provided leads to auditions, mostly for commercials and local plays. But sometimes there was a heads-up for a part as an extra on a performance set to play at the Aronoff Theater. As a twenty-two-year-old would-be actress that had never been involved in any acting gig beyond her high school productions, Bailey needed as many tips and as much free guidance as she could get.
After locating the Facebook post that was entitled simply 1954, she reread it, confirming that it was still just as mysterious and vague as it had been when she first saw it.
Hi guys and gals. If you are an up-and-coming actor/actress located in the Greater Cincinnati area and able to devote one year to a fully immersive project, then you may be what we are looking for! You must be willing to relocate (location to be announced and all fees and travel expenses are fully covered).
This is an interactive play that will require improvisation skills and the ability to stay in character at all times. Phase one of the audition will require each applicant to provide an outline of their character in a 1954 Midwestern setting. Authenticity is the key, so remember that there are no cell phones in 1954. Use of era verbiage and slang is a plus.
Other than an email address to submit the character outline, there was nothing else listed.
Bailey had allowed her mind to roam with the idea of living in 1954. Of course, as a Black woman in the ’50s, she would most likely have been relegated to a job as some white family’s maid. Her commute to work would have required her to sit at the back of a bus. If she had to do the shopping, she would have been required to wait until after all the white customers had been served first. She would not have been able to make eye contact with any white person that she crossed paths with, and if she passed a white person while walking down the street—even a white child—she would have been required to step off the sidewalk and into the grass, dirt, or road to give them the right of way.
The ’50s, for some, might have been a golden age in American history—but for others, it would have been a nightmare.
Bailey had toyed with the idea of writing an outline of a young woman with that history—but there was another side to the idea of that era in time, and that included the pinup girls, the ’50s housewife, the wholesome ’50s family unit, and even the not-so-wholesome bad boys that wore leather jackets, highwater pants, and carried switchblades.
So, she had spent the weekend writing a fantasy tale about a day in the life of a young wife in 1954. She had forgotten all about it until today, when she’d gotten the email about moving onto phase two. It had instructed her to appear for an audition next Saturday.
She was intrigued, despite her confusion. But if she only had until Saturday, she needed to get on the ball and find herself an outfit.
Bailey fired up her laptop to research online stores that specialized in ’50s-era attire. There were several cute options, but none could deliver a dress in less than seven days. Would thrift stores have ’50s-style dresses? She thought it was doubtful, so instead, she decided to look up theatrical costume shops and found one in downtown Cincinnati that said they had what she was looking for. She was at the store within an hour.
They had two options that she could make work with a few alterations, which they said could be done in twenty-four hours. While the red suit with the matching waist-length jacket and pencil skirt initially caught her eyes, the plaid dress with the billowy skirt best represented her role as a simple housewife.
The store owner reminded her that if she was going for authenticity, not only would she need the dress but also a hat, gloves, and a handbag that matched her shoes.
And that is how a dress that would have cost her forty bucks ended up costing her nearly three times that.
She wasn’t sure why she had splurged. She wasn’t rolling in dough. But when she saw everything laid out together, she knew that wearing those items would not just allow her to act, but to become the part.
While the shop worked on the alterations, Bailey assessed her natural hair. No way was she going to take down her braids, not even for a role. If people understood the pain and time it took to get micro-braids, it would be self-explanatory. Instead, she went out searching the wig stores until she found a perfect Betty Boop style wig.
She cringed when she took stock of the money she’d spent today. Why couldn’t this have been a simple, scripted rehearsal? More importantly, why was she so excited about playing the role of a 1950s housewife? It sounded like some renaissance festival shit, but she was still intrigued.
When she got the dress back after alterations, Bailey was anxious to put it on. She had gone out to the Wal-Mart and purchased a pair of thigh-high nylons. She’d hit a thrift store and found some costume jewelry, including a jewel-encrusted hair barrette that looked like it would have been worn as some woman’s crown and glory; perhaps a humble housewife that didn’t have much money to splurge but wore her grandmother’s jewelry with pride.
She put on the dress and all the props, and once the wig was in place, her breath caught in her throat. She stared at herself in the floor-length mirror that was hooked to her bathroom door.
She barely recognized herself. She did a slow spin. From the simple heels to the hat that she’d pinned carefully on her head, Bailey looked like pictures she’d seen of Black women in the ’50s, crowding into old-fashioned passenger cars so they wouldn’t have to break the bus boycotts. She looked like the beautiful aunties and grandmothers that dressed in their Sunday best.
She smiled proudly at herself.
On Saturday she drove to the audition, praying that it was aboveboard—even if it did turn out to be some experimental theater thing.
She pulled up to a Chinese restaurant, double-checked the address, and then with a shrug, she went inside. There were several other people sitting in the restaurant’s waiting area and each turned to look at her as soon as she entered.
She was relieved when she saw that they were all dressed in ’50s attire.
The host, an older Asian man, greeted her.
“Please have a seat. Auditions have begun,” he said while gesturing to the benches that lined the wall.
“Thank you,” she said politely, and took a seat next to a man dressed in a business suit and hat. He looked nervous but authentic. He even smoked a cigarette. She didn’t really want to be inhaling his cigarette smoke but took the seat anyway because he looked like the safest option.
Also present was a woman that looked to be in her thirties. She was wearing a ’50s-style bathing suit with pinup girl written all over her. Despite being under-dressed, she looked comfortable in the attire. There were two other men, one dressed like a mechanic. He even wore grease-stained coveralls with the name Bobby stitched onto his breast pocket. His blond hair was heavily oiled and flopped in his eyes as he waited. He reminded her of an actor named James Dean. He was talking to the other man who wore an old suit that looked too big with dusty, old shoes. The second man didn’t look like he was from the ’50s, he just looked a little bit like a bum.
She was the only Black person present.
The man sitting next to her gave her a quick look.
“I hope this gig is on the up-and-up,” he said. “I’ve been out of work for a few weeks now.” He offered his hand. “I’m Marty.”
She accepted his hand. “Hello. I’m Bailey.” She looked around curiously. “What a strange place to hold an audition…” She could see that there were people eating in the restaurant. Strangely, they were all dressed in ’50s attire as well.
“I’m not here for an audition,” Marty said while squashing out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. Wait…restaurants outlawed smoking in restaurants ages ago…
“I’m hoping to get a sales position at the new Chevy dealership. I used to be a sales manager at Luke’s GM.” He spoke in a suddenly mocking tone. “We had a snazzy jingle. Lucky Luke’s…” Marty sighed. “Wasn’t so lucky for me. I got canned because everybody wants a Chevy these days.”
Bailey glanced at the ashtray and then out to the diners in the restaurant, and then she recalled what the host had said; “Auditions have begun.”
She eyed the man named Marty and then smiled. “We can’t afford a car right now. My husband just got back from Korea. But maybe soon.”
“Well, I’d like to shake your husband’s hand. Say, if I get this job at the dealership, you have your husband come down. I’ll set him up with a good deal.”
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to let him know.” Bailey’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Fully immersive was what this play was described as.
“I hear it’s sometimes hard for the boys coming home. How’s your husband holding up?” Marty asked.
She gave him a troubled smile and a slight shrug. “Things have been slow. Joe and I got married right before he was shipped over. His mother’s been kind enough to allow us to live in one of the apartments she owns. She’s giving us a break on the rent…but she lives in the unit next door. And…well, you can imagine that it’s not always good to live so close to your mother-in-law.” Marty chuckled. She noticed that some of the others waiting were watching them.
Bailey continued, warming up to the role-play. “I know Joe wants me to stay home and take care of the house, but I’m hoping I can bring in a little money to help out.” Bailey rolled her eyes. “His mother hates that I want to work outside of the house. But she’s so old-fashioned. Since the war, women have to get jobs. Look at her. After Joe’s dad passed away, she had to rent out the other half of the house just to make ends meet.”
“We all have to pull our weight,” Marty agreed.
“Don’t fret yourself.” The woman in the bathing suit pulled out a cigarette. The mechanic with the nametag that read Bobby leaned over with a flip-top lighter and lit her skinnier than normal cigarette. “Times are changing,” she continued after a quick thank you to the mechanic. “I’m here to audition for a modeling gig in a new gentlemen’s magazine and I don’t care who knows it.” The woman opened the small cigarette case and withdrew a vintage compact. She quickly powdered her nose and then replaced it. She looked around the room with a haughty expression. “People say that I have the curves of Marilyn Monroe.”
“Va-va-va-voom…” the bad boy mechanic said. He let out a low wolf whistle. “I can attest to that.”
The woman batted her eyes at him. “How would you know? Unless you’re Mr. DiMaggio.”
“DiMaggio is a scrub. I hear they’re splitsville, anyway,” Bobby said while eyeing the woman. “Besides, your gams are much better than Mrs. DiMaggio’s.”
Bailey looked from one to the other, wondering if they knew each other. Were they in on this? Or were they just improvising the way she was?
“Well if you like my gams, just wait until you take a gander of me in a bunny costume.”
“A bunny costume?” Bobby asked incredulously. “What kind of sham magazine would put a dame in a bunny getup?”
“You’ll just have to pick one up, mister. It’s called Playboy Magazine, and all the models wear heels, bathing suits, and bunny ears. Oh, and cute, fluffy bunny tails.”
The guy wearing the second-rate thrift store costume looked at the flirtation going on between the man sitting next to him and the woman across from them. He sighed.
