There was a very bad disease
And polio was its name-o,
P-O-L-I-O, P-O-L-I-O, P-O-L-I-O
And polio was its name-o.
That song was in the first act, which was about polio and Dr. Salk discovering the vaccine. The second act was all about encouraging people to get a polio vaccine shot. To the tune of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm,” Maryellen had written:
Get a shot so you won’t catch
Poh-lee, oh-lee, oh!
In both acts, the narrator did all the talking while actors silently acted out what the narrator was saying. Maryellen was planning to be the narrator herself, of course, so that she could wear her bridesmaid dress.
As she read her script aloud, she couldn’t help noticing that everyone’s enthusiasm was fading. Before she had finished reading the first act, Karen King was playing jacks with Beverly, Carolyn and Angela were comparing toenail polish, Wayne was putting grass on Karen Stohlman’s hair, and Tom and Mikey looked dazed and glazed. It was impossible to tell how Davy felt because he was lying with his head on Scooter’s back, looking up at the clouds. But Maryellen plowed on, believing that every word she had written was essential. When she finally said, “The End,” everyone clapped halfheartedly. Only Wayne clapped hard.
“I’m clapping because I’m so relieved that it’s finally over!” Wayne said. “For cryin’ out loud! Listening to that show is about as much fun as getting a shot for poh-lee, oh-lee, oh.”
“No comments from the peanut gallery, Wayne,” said Carolyn. She turned to Maryellen and said kindly, “The show feels too long, but I think it’s just that the driveway is too hard to sit on. And scorching hot. People will need pillows or beach chairs or something.”
“Okay,” said Maryellen.
“Well, no offense, Ellie,” said Karen King, who was not afraid to be blunt, “but I think the play feels too long because it is too long. It needs to be shorter or funnier or something, or people won’t like it.”
“I guess I could make it a bit shorter,” said Maryellen, trying to be a good sport. No one seemed to appreciate how hard she had worked, writing the play all by herself, with no help from anybody. Gosh, sometimes she’d crept silently into the bathroom in the middle of the night, sat cross-legged on the floor, opened her notebook, and by the pale glow of the night-light, written and rewritten pages and pages. Now, reluctantly, she said, “I guess I could cut out some of the songs.”
“No, don’t cut the songs,” said Beverly. “They’re the only good parts.”
“But the music is sort of babyish,” said Carolyn, who’d recently gone crazy for rock ’n’ roll. “People like hit tunes like ‘Rock Around the Clock.’”
“Better music might help,” said Karen King, speaking to Carolyn as if Maryellen were invisible. “But the way the narrator drones on and on and on is boring.”
“Maybe the show just needs more variety,” said Angela.
“In fact, a variety show would be better all the way around, if you ask me,” said Wayne.
“No one did ask you,” said Maryellen crossly. “Mind your own beeswax.”
But while Maryellen was scolding Wayne, Karen Stohlman was saying enthusiastically, “Variety—that’s it! Let’s put on a variety show, like The Ed Sullivan Show on TV. We can each do different acts, like singing and dancing and juggling and magic tricks.”
“That would be more fun for the audience,” said Carolyn.
“And for us, too,” said Karen King, “because we’ll each get to do what we like to do and show off our talents, instead of just being silent dummies with nothing to say for ourselves.”
“Wait,” Maryellen said. She felt as if her show was galloping away from her, out of her control. “I—”
But Karen Stohlman rose to her toes and did a pirouette as she went on, “Beverly and I can do ballet.”
“I’ll play rock ’n’ roll on the piano!” offered Carolyn.
“Angela and I can dance and sing,” said Karen King. And to prove it, she and Angela started to jitterbug and sing,
We’re gonna rock around the clock tonight,
We’re gonna rock, rock, rock
Till broad daylight,
We’re gonna rock, we’re gonna rock
Around the clock tonight.
“You can do rope tricks,” Wayne suggested to Davy, “and lasso Scooter!”
Even Tom piped up, “Mikey and I can do a puppet show with our Howdy Doody puppets.”
“What’ll I do?” asked Maryellen. No one heard her, so she said again loudly, “What’ll I do?”
Everyone was quiet for a moment, trying hard to think of what Maryellen’s talent might be.
“You already made those great posters,” said Carolyn at last.
“But what’ll I do in the show?” asked Maryellen.
Davy sat up. “You’re good at talking,” he said. “Tell jokes or something.”
“Like, why did the clown throw the clock out the window?” said Wayne. “Because he wanted to see time fly. Get it?”
“Be quiet, Mr. Helicopter Head,” said Maryellen. “I don’t want to tell silly jokes. I want to encourage people to get vaccinated, which is serious and important.”
“Well, then make a short speech about Jonas Salk,” said Carolyn, “and sing one of your songs. Maybe the one about getting vaccinated, the ‘poh-lee, oh-lee, oh’ song.”
“Yes, that would be good!” said Angela brightly.
Maryellen hugged her script close to her chest. All that hard work for nothing! She was sorely disappointed. But it was clear that no one wanted to do the show that she had written. They just wanted to sing and dance and show off. She had no choice; she couldn’t do her show all by herself! So she gave in.
“All right,” she said. At least she’d get to wear her bridesmaid dress—if Mom had finished it. That might be a big if, Maryellen thought. I’d better ask Mom how my dress is coming along.
That evening, Carolyn was at a sock hop at the high school gym, and Maryellen and Scooter rode along in the car when Mom went to pick up Carolyn after the dance. It was unusual to have Mom all to herself, and Maryellen knew that she should ask about the bridesmaid
