November 5, 1844, Tuesday.

Cloudy, with intermittent snowfall. But nothing could dampen enthusiasm for the hotly-contested election of 1844 between Clay and Polk. All the eligible voters were out and about, meaning white men 21 and over. This left Jim and George Hayes out, but they were there, anyway, to play music and collect tip money. They had already played two rousing fiddle choruses of 'Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean' by the time old Josiah Ferguson showed up to vote.

Jim stopped to accompany him to the polling place, which was the Red Lion. He wanted to make sure he steered Josiah past the inevitable drunks (at eight in the morning!) and kept him from being harassed. As far as Jim knew, Josiah was the only third-party voter in town. But people left them alone, and Josiah proudly cast his very public vote for the Liberty Party, duly registered, and went off home again. He declined Jim's offer of a second breakfast with the Gallaghers because he 'didn't want to associate with all the riff-raff on election day'. Jim went back to fiddling.

Jim and George supported the Liberty Party, too, but since they couldn't vote, they kept their opinions to themselves. Instead, they indulged in bipartisan musicianship: whoever paid them, got a campaign song.

Hurrah! Hurrah! The country's risin',

For Harry Clay and Frelinghuysen!

Hurrah! Hurrah! The country's risin',

For Harry Clay and Frelinghuysen!

– 'Henry Clay and Frelinghuysen'

This only required them to play 'Old Dan Tucker', which they knew in their sleep by now, snore, and somebody was sure to pick up the chorus. At least they know how to pronounce 'Frelinghuysen', thought Jim, who found the Dutch name a mouthful.

When the Democrats showed up, they wanted 'Jimmy Polk of Tennessee', no big deal, just a version of 'Little Brown Jug':

Ev'ry day brings something new

The locofocoes find it true

Strange events have proved to Martin

Doubtful things are most unsartin

Hark, the people rising say

He's the man to cope with Clay

Ha ha, such a nominee

Jimmy Polk of Tennessee!

'Step right up! Step right up! Big show tonight!' A garishly-dressed individual in a chequered suit (vest, trousers, and tie, coat mercifully black) with the world's tallest hat pushed his way through the arguing, laughing, and not entirely sober crowd. 'Step right up! Show tonight!' He thrust a handbill into any empty palm he could find and jammed an occasional one into any untended shop window. Jim and George looked at each other.

'Hey, mister! What kind of show? And where?' called Jim. For answer, the tall-hatted man handed him a flyer.

Wells & Young Company

Back from Their Triumphant Tour Down East!

Singing! Dancing! The Latest Ethiopian Numbers!!!

A Good Time Promised!

Jim and George read the flyer…and Jim saw red. 'Hey, mister! Are you Wells, or Young?'

The man looked at them curiously. 'I'm Wells. What's it to you?'

'And you do 'Ethiopian numbers'?'

Wells looked from one to the other, uneasily. 'Er, yes.'

George looked the man over. He said evenly, 'Does that mean you perform in blackface, sir?'

Wells tried to back away, but he had a crowd of Democrats on one side, Whigs on the other, and a watering trough in between, so he didn't get very far. 'Well, as a rule, yes.' Seeing their expressions, he added hastily, 'Look. We don't mean nothin' by it. They're all doing it, from New York City down to New Orleans. We're just tryin' to make a livin'.

Jim asked, 'And you were in New England with that stuff? How did that go down?'

'Not too well,' he admitted. 'Them Vermonters nearly rode us out on a rail. Said something about how they'd rather hear The Hutchinsons.'

Jim laughed. 'I'm not surprised. Hey, we've got an idea. Is it just the two of you right now?'

Wells nodded. 'We, er, had a couple more players, but they absquatulated¹ in Harrisburg. With most of our funds. All we have is our instruments and a couple of trunkfuls of costumes and sheet music back in the wagon.'

George grew thoughtful. 'Tell you what. We won't tell you what to do. You could do a minstrel show here tonight. I don't try to tell you some of these drunken louts wouldn't laugh at it. You might even make a bit of money. But the respectable people won't like it. Mr John Dougherty won't like it, because his hotel is as near to Temperance as you're going to find in these parts. You'd be offending some of our friends. But if you'd be willing to forgo the blackface and the d@rky jokes, my friend and I would be willing to join you for the evening and play back-up.'

Wells grinned. 'You can't say fairer than that, my friend. We could use the help, and you two can sure play up a storm. Come on back to the wagon with me, and let's put our heads together.'

Young turned out to be a rotund, bald gentleman about the same height as Jim. By nature genial, he readily agreed to a non-blackface show. 'We used to do Chief Macaroni's Medicine Extravaganza,' he explained. 'But then some doctors got mad about the pine tar content in the tonic. And one night some real Indians showed up and made a fuss about Chief Macaroni's war paint. So we gave it up. It's not like I want to be making fun of people. It's just that…' he blushed, 'we like to eat.'

Jim and George sympathised. 'Let's show you what we can do,' suggested Jim. They performed the 'Arkansas Traveller' for them and explained that it 'went over big' last time. Wells and Young took notes. Then they all swapped songs. It turned out that they knew enough in common to put together most of a show, and George and Jim were quick learners for jokes and a few new songs. In the afternoon, they went around town, telling people about the 'this night only' performance of the 'Election Night Wonder Show', to gather over in McGinty's horse pasture by the medicine wagon.

As absolutely nothing useful was going to get done on election day – apart from the voting, which would determine all sorts of major issues, like Texas and Oregon and 54-40-or-Fight – just about the whole town showed up for the repurposed minstrel show. Instead of blackface gags about 'Mr Bones', they got jokes about farmers and hunters and bears and loggers.

How do groundhogs smell?

With their noses, I reckon.

It wasn't Shakespeare, but nobody cared. They sang and played the new songs Wells & Young taught them, like Dan Emmett's 'Boatman's Dance'. The crowd picked up the chorus about the 'O-HI-O', and had a great time with it. A few fistfights broke out on the fringes, but by and large, people forgot about politics and just had a good time.

After all, nobody would know who won for several months.

The travelling performers happily split the 'take' with Jim and George, and in return were fed by the generous Fergusons, who threw in a couple of pumpkin pies for the road. They went on their way, rejoicing, as the Scripture says, and planning a new kind of show with no ethnic humour in it at all.

They swore they were going to call it The Two Antiques Road Show.

Dmitri Gheorgheni