Transits Read Free

introduction.
    Roy MacArthur
Fredericton, New Brunswick
    July 26, 1981
    Dear Roy,
    We have finally had a chance to take a look at the piece you submitted back in February on Bix Beiderbecke and the Wolverines. Unfortunately, it's not the sort of thing we're looking for right now. F.Y.I., we usually don't consider unsolicited work from unknown, unpublished critics.
    Also, we won't be running your response to Ms. Alderson's letter. However, as a personal favour, from one Beiderbecke enthusiast to another, I can forward a copy of your letter to her, though I can't guarantee she'll respond. All the best with your radio show.
    Yours,
Allan Brookes
Asst. Editor,
Down Beat Magazine
    ***
    Five months after
Down Beat
publishes Alice Alderson's letter, Roy stands in a service station parking lot on the outskirts of Fredericton, duffel bag in one hand, Greyhound bus ticket gripped firmly in the other. Roy is not about to let a conviction for possession of marijuana deter him from attempting to cross the border. He's since kicked the habit and it seems unfair that such a trivial offence should keep him from accepting Alice's invitation. Roy's major concern is the handful of listeners who tune in regularly to
Two Drink Minimum
, and the punker-angst rock to which they will be subjected during his absence. That week, between customers at the record store, Roy had spent hours meticulously selecting tracks and scripting between-song anecdotes for next Thursday's show. But in addition to covering his shifts while he was away, Roy's co-worker, Andy, agreed to sit in as host of
Two Drink Minimum
only on the condition that he be permitted to play whatever records he wanted.
    On Thursday afternoon Roy strolls down East Houston Street, arm in arm with Alice Alderson. Three days earlier, he had cleared the border without a hitch. US Customs did not run a background check, nor did they bother to locate and confiscate the flask of ryein the inside pocket of his overcoat. Roy has forgotten what day of the week it is. He is not sure if he is in love. He knows only that he is profoundly elated to be in the company of the young woman at his side, and that he is overwhelmed. Roy is not used to big cities, and he is not used to Alice. Their first few days together had been awkward at times, but they had also turned out better than Roy had expected. Though Alice proved the confident, opinionated young woman of her letters, Roy knew that in person he could never live up to the dashing persona of his radio broadcasts which, at Alice's request, he had tape-recorded and sent to her. Alice was not entirely disappointed with the young man she had met, but neither was she swept off her feet. Roy knew this. He also knew that his reticence was nothing a few swigs from his flask couldn't remedy. Alice liked it when he did this, not only because it helped him loosen up, but because it was a stylish thing for a young man to do.
    Though Alice had ample opportunity to become acquainted with Roy's voice, he is still growing accustomed to hers. They had spoken only once before meeting, and Alice had steadfastly refused to sing over the phone. When Roy requested that she send him a recording of herself, she complained that she'd never had the opportunity to be professionally recorded. Which is why, on the morning after Roy's arrival, as they sat drinking coffee in Alice's tiny Williamsburg apartment, there was an anxious smile on her lips as she pushed the
Village Voice
across the kitchen table and pointed out the advertisement she had circled.
    Jazz Vocalists Wanted. Silhouette Studios seeks undiscovered talent to
audition/record. $20 fee payable at time of session.

Serious inquiries only.
    It is now the afternoon of the audition and they stand beneath an overcast sky in front of an East Houston Street newsstand that looks like any other in the city. The proprietor is half a foot shorter than Roy and on his head is a grey watch cap. A cigarillo protrudes his lips. His