Free Bad to the Bone by Len Levinson Page B

seen the light of day in broken-down shacks, or sod houses, while others had been raised with silver spoons in their mouths. Her strong coloratura voice brought them back to those halcyon days, as she raised her arms dramatically, threw back her head, and belted out the chorus with all the musical gifts that God had given her:
“ Then I wish I was in Dixie
    Hooray! Hooray!
    In Dixie land I'll make my stand
    to live or die for Dixie!
    Away, away,
    Away down South in Dixie
    Away, way,
    away down South in Dixie! ”
    The saloon exploded with approval, every voice singing loudly, for Dixie was no mere geographical locationto Miss Vanessa Fontaine and the members of her audience. No, it was their spiritual landscape forged in flames, and they'd never forget languid summer afternoons, magnolia blossoms, mint juleps, and chivalry that the world had not seen for hundreds of years previously, and likely would never see again.
    Miss Vanessa Fontaine bowed low, as if to acknowledge that men, not women, had charged batteries of cannon, been torn apart by rifle fire, and experienced the singular sensation of a cold, dirty bayonet in the guts.
    Meanwhile, Maggie O'Day stood beside the bar, worrying that the volume of applause would blow out the very walls of her saloon. She'd employed the random fiddler or guitar plucker over the years, but never before had a performer like Miss Vanessa Fontaine stirred up such a tumult at the Last Chance Saloon. Coins showered upon the stage, and a gold twenty-dollar double eagle bounced off the Charleston Nightingale's nose as she arose and stood before them with her arms outstretched.
    She's got that special something, no doubt about it, thought Maggie O'Day. So this is the woman who captured young Duane Braddock's heart, threw it way, and now wishes she could get it back. Maggie wanted to hate Vanessa, but enjoyed a good show like the rest of her customers, who were drinking heavily and working themselves to fever pitch. She sells whisky, and that's all I care about, thought Maggie.
    Meanwhile, at center stage, surrounded by a sea of gold and silver coins, Miss Vanessa Fontaine was preparing her next selection of the evening. Again she opened her mouth, and her voice filled the saloon:

“ When the boys come home in triumph, brother
    With the laurels they shall gain;
    When we go to give them welcome, brother,
    We shall look for you in vain.
    We shall wait for your returning, brother
    But you were set forever free;
    For your comrades left you sleeping, brother,
    Underneath a Southern tree. ”
    Tears flowed copiously down the cheeks of gnarled old soldiers, as they recalled comrades they'd buried beneath southern trees. Vanessa's eyes weren't dry either, for her first love had fallen at Gettysburg, in the most immense cavalry engagement of the war. And her parents had died too, for the family plantation had lain unwittingly in the path of Sherman's cruel march to the sea. The song brought back beautiful and painful memories, as Vanessa and her audience became brothers and sisters of the great Lost Cause:
“ You were the first on duty, brother
    When ‘to arms’ your leader cried, —
    You have left the ranks forever,
    You have laid your arms aside.
    From the awful scenes of battle, brother
    You were set forever free;
    When your comrades left you sleeping, brother
    Underneath that Southern tree. ”
    Pandemonium broke out in the Last Chance Saloon, as Vanessa curtsied demurely, spreading out her arms. More coins tinkled onto the stage, and she could tell by their number that she had been a success. She blewthem kisses, for she truly loved them as they loved her, and she'd be nothing without their devotion and encouragement. She raised herself to her full height, and for the first time scanned their faces carefully, searching relentlessly for him. She prayed that she'd see his face in the adoring throngs, but failed to locate the black hat with silver concho hatband, and