MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE:

FOOL ON THE HILL

Written by Rick Archer 

LIMBO MONTH ONE FRIDAY, OCTOBER 26, 1979 PISTACHIO CALLS IT QUITS

More bad news.  Friday, October 26, was the final night of Camelot.  Larry the manager came by our small group of Die Hards to tell us the Pistachio Club had decided to close.  He thanked us for our loyal support, an effort which I thought was a nice touch. 

There were ten of us present to witness the funeral.  We were virtually the only dancers in the club.  The floor was empty, but none of us wanted to dance.  It was the end of an era.  Many good times, many fond memories.  I would miss this place.  And I would miss Camelot.  Gosh, I had so much fun dancing here. 

Right then a waitress came by.  "Bring me ten margaritas." 

For the first time all night, I saw some wan smiles.  This was it, this was the end of the road.  Drinks in hand, we raised our glasses.  "To Disco, rest in peace.  We will never forget you!"

Then I turned to everyone and said, "We all need to dance.  Let's go."  I grabbed Lynette and everyone else followed us out there.  However, we did not partner dance.  Instead we formed a circle and danced freestyle to 'Boogie Woogie Dancing Shoes'.  When the song was over, I said goodnight to everyone and thanked them for coming. 

On my way out, Larry pulled me aside.  "I've been wondering where Victoria has been.  I haven't seen her in two months.  Did I do something wrong?  Was it something I said to her?"

"No, Larry, it has nothing to do with you.  Victoria is going through a personal crisis in her marriage.  I suppose she is headed for a divorce.  As a result, she has been far too miserable to enjoy dancing.  If anything, the Pistachio Club was the scene of her greatest celebration.  My guess is she would prefer to preserve the memory of the good times and skip the sad ending."

Larry nodded.  "Thanks, that makes me feel better.  Well, Rick, I guess I'll see you around."

We shook hands and I walked out the door for the last time.  I suppose this moment was inevitable, but it hurt nonetheless.  I would miss our hangout terribly. 

I was miserable on my way home that night.  Disco was on its last legs and soon to die a horrible death.  My personal life was in ruins and I was bitter towards all things Western.  I was also quite lonely.  Jennifer was still punishing me for choosing Victoria over her.  Victoria was too busy arguing with Michael over his divorce threat to worry about me.  Other than Joanne, I was completely alone as my dance career raced towards its inevitable conclusion.  The decision I made on my birthday to quit teaching Western left me more depressed than ever before.  At this point, my plan was to call it quits at the end of November.  If I was lucky, maybe I could get a job as a seasonal Santa.  Ho ho ho.  Deep down, I did not want to quit.  But I could not get Lance Stevens' voice of doom out of my head. 

"I hate kicker music and I hate rednecks, but most of all I hate the dancing.  Country dancing is so easy even those dumb ass farm boys can do it.  Don't bother teaching Country dancing.  There's nothing to it and there's no money in it."

I prayed for a sign I should continue.  I did not want to let my Magic Carpet Ride end.  However, the decision to embrace Western was a decision I was unwilling to take without celestial encouragement.  To me, it was like trading paradise for a barren desert.  It wasn't just the boring dancing that bothered me.  Nor was it the awful music.  What bothered me the most was my recurring nightmare that the entire Western Scene was a colorless, drab, boring existence populated by bikers, brawlers and bubbas.  I shuddered as I thought of the plus-sized women at the Cactus Club.  Try as I might, I could not shake the memory of my visit to that awful beer joint back in June.  The enduring vision of the dismal, cheerless Cactus Club sent me into melancholy every time I thought about it. 

I understood that much of my resistance was caused by my love of Disco.  A Boston Red Sox fan moves to New York.  Does he become a Yankees fan?  Of course not.  The Yankees are the hated rival.  Same for me.  Country-Western had just eliminated the most important thing in the world to me.  So now you expect me to be a fan?  Don't be ridiculous. 

I could not bear to exchange the joy of dancing with beautiful, sexy women for the dreary world of extra-wide Honky-Tonk women.  The kind of women I was attracted to would never be content to drift backwards in slow motion for an entire song.  To me, the whole thing boiled down to swapping Technicolor for black and white.  I was so bewildered.  Why would anyone exchange a colorful, exciting world full of dazzling women and lightning-quick dancing for a boring world of grey drabness?  I could not accept this.  Call me a snob if you want, but it was too much to ask. 

SATURDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 27 MILLER THEATER

October 27 was a chilly Saturday evening.  I was deeply upset over the closing of the Pistachio Club.  There was no way Country-Western would ever replace it.  In my imagination, all Western clubs resembled what I had seen at Joanne's Cactus Club.  If the Cactus Club and Gilley's represented what Urban Cowboy was all about, then I did not want to have anything to do with it.  This was the real reason I did not dare go anywhere near a Western club.  I could not bear to face the unpleasant New Reality.

Therefore, whenever the Western issue had come up during October, I tried to avoid it any way I could.  Can we just forget about Western and let me enjoy Disco for its few remaining months?  Due to the intensity of my disgust, the thought of teaching another Western class was despicable.  Of course I never shared my personal feelings about Western dancing with anyone.  I kept my prejudices to myself because I sensed I might change my mind.  After all, the Meyerland Club experience had shown me there might be money in this even if Lance Stevens disagreed.  On the other hand, the silence of my business phone suggested Meyerland had been a colossal fluke.  With that, I made my decision.  On Monday, I would tell the Twostep Trio and the rest of my Acrobatic students to forget about Western.  When Disco died, I would die with it.  The Magic Carpet Ride was about to end.

Despondent, I was climbing the walls here at home.  Feeling friendless and abandoned, I had to get out of this place.  Dancing was hardly the answer given the mood I was in.  I picked up the morning newspaper and noticed the Houston Symphony offered a free outdoor concert at Miller Theater in Hermann Park.  I was not much of a symphony fan, but I could not bear to remain another minute alone in this house.  

People who arrived early got seats up front while late-comers spread blankets and lawn chairs up on the elevated grassy hill.  Tonight I planned to sit on my blanket and empty a bottle of wine.  Convinced the Magic Carpet Ride was coming to an end soon, the time had come to say goodbye to my beloved dance career.  On Monday I intended to tell Lynette I would not be teaching her requested C&W class in November.  I assumed that would be the point of no return. 

There was a large crowd when I got to Miller Theater.  On my way to the hill, I spotted Ted Weisgal on the sidewalk.  I was so surprised, I stopped to watch what he was doing.  As it turned out, Ted was handing out Leisure Learning catalogues to throngs of people as they passed by. 

I suppose the Reader could use a reminder.  Ted was a man who had briefly floated in and out of my life on four previous occasions.  Our first encounter came in September 1975.  At the time, Ted was working for Sundry School, an adult education program.  I had dropped by his office hoping to get a Katie's phone number to correct a mistake  Since I knew so little about Katie, my last hope of ever seeing her again was to get her phone number from Sundry School.  Ted was careful not to release Katie's phone number to a stranger, so that was that.  I did not hold a grudge; I would have done the same thing in his shoes.  If I had a brain... don't answer that... I would have asked Ted to call Katie and give her my phone number.  Oh well.

My second encounter was in February 1978.  One day I discovered Ted had left Sundry School to work at Courses a la Carte, another adult education program.  Ted did not last very long, maybe half a year.  I knew why he was unhappy.  Ted worked his butt off for little pay and no praise.  Given how little he was appreciated by his do-nothing boss, I did not blame him for leaving. 

My third encounter came in early 1979.  Apparently Ted had jumped ship again.  He left CALC to move over to Class Factory, another adult education program.  Ted did not last long there either.  He was gone by June.  Ted's boss, Deborah Gordon, said they had a serious disagreement about his salary.  After Ted quit, he decided to create an adult education program of his own.  He called it Leisure Learning.  

Ted did not waste time.  Shortly after leaving Class Factory, Ted gave me a call.  He wanted me to leave Class Factory and come work for Leisure Learning instead.  This was a tough decision.  One year earlier Deborah had given me the break of a lifetime.  Her decision to let me teach Disco classes for her program had allowed me to become independent of Lance Stevens.  How could I leave her after that?  I turned Ted down out of loyalty to Deborah, but did so with reluctance.  Although I barely knew Ted, I sensed he possessed an unquenchable determination to succeed.  Given his intensity, I worried I had made the wrong choice.  Although Deborah was a skilled professional and formidable opponent in her own right, I had a feeling Ted was unstoppable.

Three months earlier Ted published his first Leisure Learning catalogue.  If Ted managed to put Class Factory out of business in head to head combat, I was in big trouble.  By my estimate, Deborah's organization had sent me close to a 1,000 students over the past year. Indeed Class Factory would be very difficult to replace.  But on the other hand, what difference did it make?  Here at the end of October I was planning to quit, so it didn't really matter who won.  Nevertheless, as I watch Ted hand out catalogues to prospective customers, I felt a begrudging admiration.  Any man who would give up his Saturday night to stand out in the cold passing out catalogues had my respect.  Curious, I stopped on the sidewalk to observe Ted.  This guy had to be crazy.  Hey, this is Saturday night!  People are supposed to have fun.  Then I realized the absurdity of that statement.  Look at me.  Well, at least Ted was fighting to the bitter end.  Me?  At the moment, I was paying an unwelcome visit to the Abyss.

Watching Ted in action, as usual I was impressed by his determination.  'Relentless' was the word that crossed my mind.  I was not sure how I felt about Ted.  I did not like him, but I did not hate him either.  Ted was not a warm person, but he had never done anything mean to me.  Although I was worried that he might put Deborah and the Class Factory out of business, I was in no position to be casting stones.  I would have no qualms about ditching my grouchy boss Lance Stevens should the occasion arise. 

There was something that bothered me.  I never understood why Deborah had allowed a dozen of her best instructors jump ship to Ted's program last summer.  Let me explain.  One of Ted's great talents was finding competent instructors and keeping them happy.  From what I gathered, many of the people he hired developed a loyalty to him similar to the loyalty I felt for Deborah.  Another one of Ted's great talents was persuading his instructors to leave their current program and follow him to his next position.  As things stood, Ted had pulled this trick three times.  Sundry School to Courses a la Carte, CALC to Class Factory, Class Factory to Leisure Learning.

Back in August I had seen Ted's initial LLU catalogue.  I was shocked to discover how many Class Factory instructors had said yes to his latest recruiting effort.  Why didn't Deborah do something to put a stop to this?  The moment she heard of Ted's plans to compete with her, why didn't she call every one of her instructors ahead of time to ask for their loyalty?  It seemed reckless not to safeguard her assets.  For example, her biggest money maker, a computer teacher, was now working for Ted.  That had to hurt.  I was Deborah's second most profitable instructor.  Did she call to ask if I would stick around?  No.  I stayed anyway, but only because I owed her big-time.  I suddenly realized I was angry at Deborah.  Her passivity had allowed Ted to suck the lifeblood out of her business.  Maybe Deborah wasn't as politically astute as I thought she was.  More likely, I think her mistake was over-confidence.  Either she did not think a personal call asking for loyalty was necessary or perhaps she thought it was beneath her.  Whatever the reason, Deborah had underestimated the threat Ted posed, of that I was sure. 

Three months had passed since the initial Leisure Learning catalogue came out last summer.  I was staring at a man who was hell-bent on putting Deborah out of business.  By extension, Ted was my enemy.  Except that it didn't matter anymore.  My career would be over on Monday when I told the Twostep Trio to take a hike.  Should I talk to Ted?  Given how lonely I felt, I was ready to talk to anyone, even a supposed enemy.  As they say, misery loves company.  However, I did not move.  Due to my bad mood, I preferred to avoid a conversation with Deborah's dour opponent.  Instead I studied the man.  To my surprise, I was curious to get Ted's side of the story in this rivalry.  I had heard Deborah bellyache about Ted enough times, but so far she had refused to explain what took place behind the scenes.  I was dying to know Ted's side of the story behind the bad blood.  Maybe he would be willing to speak to me. 

I was envious of Ted.  He had worked at Sundry School, Courses a la Carte, and Class Factory.  Now he had made his move to go out on his own.  And what about me?  I had just turned 30.  This was a time when most people make their big career move.  I had hoped to own a dance studio someday, but right now a job as a computer programmer seemed more likely.  I smiled grimly.  So far my only birthday present had been Lance Stevens' voice of doom.  I wondered if this chance encounter with Ted was another birthday present from the Universe.  Oh boy, just what I hoped for, an interview with the notorious Ted the Dread.  I hesitated, but eventually my curiosity got the better of me, so I trudged over to say hello.  It wasn't like I had anything better to do. 

I assumed Ted would view me suspiciously, but not so.  To my surprise, Ted looked pleased to see me.  Ted was a dour man by nature.  However tonight he was in a better mood than I had ever seen him before.  If forced to guess, I think he appreciated some company.  Pleased to be welcomed, I smiled and shook his hand. 

"Ted, you have to be crazy to give up a Saturday night and work like this."

Ted shrugged.  "You forget I have a new business to promote.  I don't have the luxury of taking time off."

"Well, at least you are spending your time effectively.  I noticed you are handing out quite a few catalogues." 

Ted said nothing, preferring to hand a catalogue to another passer-by.  I paused for a moment, then decided to skip the small talk. 

"Ted, I have a question for you.  If you don't mind, what went wrong between you and Deborah?  She won't say a word about it."

Ted responded to my question with surprising candor. 

"Deborah needed help getting her new business off the ground.  I had previously worked at the Sundry School and Courses a la Carte, so I had extensive experience in the Adult Education field.  Deborah lured me away from Courses a la Carte with a promise to pay me a percentage of the profits.  I agreed to join her because it was tempting to bust my tail for a percentage of the profits rather than a fixed salary.  It seemed like a good gamble at the time.  Sure enough, once I joined forces with Deborah, the program skyrocketed.  I expected a big payday would be coming my way soon."

I nodded.  Class Factory had definitely boomed during Ted's tenure.  On the surface, he and Deborah were a Dream Team.  Deborah had the social skills and the artistic flair, Ted had previous business experience plus his relentless approach to catalogue distribution.  In fact, right now I was getting a first-hand demonstration of his dogged determination.  Not once during our conversation did Ted stop handing out catalogues. 

"I did Deborah a real service by bringing some of my most successful teachers at Courses a la Carte along with me.  New to Houston, she had only the vaguest idea where to find people to teach these different classes.  Without reliable teachers, her program wasn't going anywhere.  The teachers I brought along gave her program an instant boost, but she showed little gratitude.  Deborah acted like she had done me a favor giving me this job."

My eyes grew wide.  This was the first time I had ever heard that Ted had persuaded Courses a la Carte instructors to come over to Deborah's program.  Suddenly, the mysterious rise and fall of each program made sense.   

Ted was the Pied Piper!   When Ted was director of Sundry School, he had personally recruited all the instructors to join his fledgling program.  Over time, Ted had earned their trust by paying them well and showing appreciation for their hard work.  I assumed these instructors became loyal to Ted, not to Sundry School.  Loyalty always goes to the benevolent contact person, not the faceless institution.

When things went south at the Sundry School, no doubt Ted contacted Nicholas at Courses a la Carte and promised him a package deal.  If Nicholas would give him a position, Ted would bring his best instructors along with him.  Once Nicholas agreed to the deal, Ted contacted his instructors and persuaded several of them to follow him to CALC.

Mind you, this was guesswork on my part, but it made sense.  Unfortunately, Courses a la Carte had been a bad fit.  Ted did not have the patience to take orders from a man he did not respect.  No doubt Ted chafed under the direction of his do-nothing boss.  So when Ted got wind of the new Class Factory program, I imagine he made the same promise to Deborah he had made to Nicholas... "hire me and I will bring experience plus my group of instructors over to Class Factory." 

However, things did not work out between Ted and Deborah.  My guess is that Ted had one of those personalities that prevented him from taking orders.  Ted was born to be the boss.  After he quit, Ted decided to go into business for himself.  That is when he began to raid the Class Factory teachers.  Based on all the familiar names in his LLU catalogue, Ted had been very persuasive.  Maybe I should not so surprised.  Anyone who knew him could sense his bulldog determination to succeed.  I was glad I had run into Ted tonight.  Our meeting helped me finally solve the riddle of the mysterious seesaw effect.  Each program got a boost with the arrival of effective new teachers, then tapered off when Ted left and took his teachers with him.  Ted giveth, Ted taketh away. 

No wonder Deborah was in a bad mood all the time.  Deborah had to be furious when Ted began raiding her teachers.  Not just 'his' teachers, but some of the teachers that Deborah herself had brought on board.  Call it ruthless, call it cutthroat, call it American Capitalism.  Ted knew exactly where Deborah's jugular was located.  An adult education program lives and dies based on the quality of its instructors.

"Well, Ted, I would imagine luring some of the Class Factory teachers away was effective, but you had to be pretty angry to make such a bold move.  I mean, you had to know you were crippling her program."

"I don't feel guilty.  I don't feel guilty at all.  Deborah had no one to blame but herself.  All she had to do was keep her word.  When I started, as promised, Deborah did pay me a percentage of the profits.  But one day last April, Deborah told me she had decided to pay me a salary instead.  No more share of the profits.  Where the hell did she get that kind of nerve?   You don't get to decide after the fact.  I came there on a promise and I expected her to be good for her word.  This was a huge blow to me.  I was livid.  I suppose Deborah had not anticipated her business would become so lucrative so quickly... thanks to me of course.  Now that she was making serious money, Deborah expected me to become an employee rather than a partner."

Ted stopped to answer a question from someone who had taken one of the catalogues.  For the first time, I could see why Ted had been so upset.  Deborah's decision meant less reward for his efforts and less control of the business.  But was Ted telling the truth?  When Ted returned, I asked him a question.

"Ted, did you have your understanding with Deborah written down?"

"No.  We had a verbal agreement.  I thought I could trust her."

Seeing how upset Ted looked, I asked if this was the reason he decided to quit.

"Yes.  After Deborah reneged on our agreement, I felt betrayed.  On the verge of losing my temper, I got up and stomped out before I lost control.  I went home and told Kathy what had happened."

[Author's Note:  There are two sides to every story.  In 2006, I received an email from Deborah that disputed Ted's version.] 

"Details about my agreement with Ted are incomplete and misleading.  Obviously one's memory can be unreliable after 25 years. I understand that.  But I simply can't allow these inaccuracies to float around in cyberspace unchecked.  Much of the paperwork from The Class Factory is still safely tucked away in a safe deposit box and will refute most of what you have said.  This paperwork includes the agreement Ted signed to work for a percentage -- until I could afford to pay him a salary."  -- D.G.
 

"Wait a minute, Ted, who is Kathy?"

"Kathy is my wife.  And pretty soon I am going to have a child to support.  Kathy is pregnant."

I was shocked.  I had no idea Ted was married.

"Your wife?  You're married?  I didn't know you were married, Ted.  What are you doing here?   You should be home enjoying her company.  Instead you spend a chilly Saturday night handing out catalogues to a bunch of strangers.  You really are crazy!!"

"No, I am not crazy.  If you had a wife and child, you would understand.  With our backs to the wall, Kathy is counting on me.  I cannot afford to fail.  This is it.  Every cent I have in this world is locked up in this business."

"Your wife doesn't mind that you are here?"

"Of course not.  In fact, she practically shoved me out the door.  Kathy knows how important this is.  Kathy is the main reason I took this huge risk in the first place."

"What do you mean by that?"

"After Deborah reneged on our agreement, I told Kathy what happened.  She listened sympathetically and let me rant and rave, you know, vent my frustration.  When I finally calmed down enough, Kathy spoke up.  I remember exactly what she said.

'Ted, why do you keep working for other people?  You have built three organizations from the ground up only to get pushed around and receive little credit in return.  You don't take orders well, you don't play well with others, you don't respect the people you work for.  The way I see it, you need to be in charge of your own program.'"

"Was Kathy really that blunt?"

Ted actually smiled for a change.

"Yeah, that's Kathy for you.  She doesn't tell me what I want to hear, she tells me what I need to hear.  I decided Kathy was absolutely right.  I really do need to be my own boss.  I went back the next day and told Deborah that her change of mind was unacceptable.  I added that I had no intention of agreeing to this switch.  Unfortunately Deborah held her ground, so I walked out for the second and final time.  I vowed I would make her pay for her mistake.  I am prepared to gut her program." 

Wow.  That was blunt.

"Okay, I understand that, but don't you ever take time off and enjoy life a little?  How do you explain standing here alone for hours on a chilly weekend night?  Don't you want some company?  Doesn't Kathy want some company?"

I suppose I said this partially out of my own loneliness.  But it seemed a valid point.  Ted let out a chuckle. 

"You don't understand.  We have risked everything to form this business.  Kathy quit her job with the Houston Parks and Recreation Department to help me get this business off the ground.  Then I got a $3,000 loan from my parents.  Then I took out my life savings - another $3,000 - to print the first LLU issue.  Kathy is pregnant and worried sick about the bills.  Right now we are flying without a safety net.  I have no choice but to do whatever I can to make this business succeed.  You are looking at a man who is down to his last silver bullet."

"What do you mean by that?"

Ted turned and pointed at three bundles of catalogues sitting on the ground nearby.

"So far, I have put out only one catalogue, the September-October issue.  The November-December catalogue I am handing out tonight is my last chance.  If this flops, I don't have enough money in the bank to print another issue in January.  I have nothing after this.  My whole adult life has been volunteer work, Vista, Peace Corps, experimental programs, plus inner city jobs where I did all the work for little or no pay.  My savings are cleaned out, so I can't afford to grow my business slowly.  This second issue either flies or I'm finished, kaput.  If this venture fails, Kathy and I will be up to our necks in debt.  No more loans, no more savings, no one to bail us out, no second chance to ever work for myself again.  So don't ask me whether Kathy approves or not.  She is just as scared of failure as I am.  My back is against the wall." 

I nodded.  Ted was here tonight because he had no other choice.  It sounded like a terrifying risk to take, but Ted struck me as a man who would never give up.  And with that, I decided it was time to go.  I wished Ted luck, shook hands and left.  However, I stopped to watch from a distance as Ted handed out more catalogues.  Ted engaged people as they passed by, encouraging each one to take a catalogue.  He had a simple philosophy.  With a hundred or so classes to choose from, anyone who opened a catalogue was bound to find something stimulating.  But first he had to find a way to make people look at his program.  Almost everyone stopped and took a copy, some out of curiosity, others just to be polite.  It was a thankless task, but Ted stayed with it.  A lot of people discarded their catalogue the moment they thought Ted was not looking.  I smiled when I noticed Ted stop what he was doing to go collect the nearby unused catalogues.  Waste not, want not.  Ted had to be the most determined man I had ever seen.

FOOL ON THE HILL

After leaving Ted, I found a spot up on the hill at Miller Theater.  I chose this spot because I saw an abandoned Leisure Learning catalogue on the ground nearby.  After fetching the catalogue, I placed my blanket.  It does not get dark till late, so I was able to read.  As I leafed through the pages, I barely listened to the music.  Surrounded by a sea of people, I barely noticed them.  My mind was on Deborah.  Noting all the former Class Factory instructors listed in the LLU catalogue, I figured she was in serious trouble.  Not that Deborah was soft, but she did lead a life of upper class comfort while Ted was down to his last thin dime.  Did Deborah realize how desperate Ted was?  With his back to the wall, Ted would never give up!!  He might be the hungriest man I had ever met.

I wondered what Deborah was doing tonight.  I assumed Deborah had gone to dinner at some fancy restaurant with her husband Peter, an executive with Xerox.  Or perhaps the two of them were at a cocktail party exchanging witty conversation with sophisticated friends.  Quite possibly they were at the theater with plans to stop for drinks afterwards.  I had no doubt that Deborah and Peter enjoyed a fulfilling, comfortable life.  My fantasy of Deborah's life was exactly what I had hoped for with Jennifer.

Unfortunately, a life of luxury makes one soft.  The Fall of the Roman Empire crossed my mind.  I had a strange vision of savage Visigoths as they sacked Rome.  The effete Romans with their orgies and slaves had grown so soft they were forced to hire apathetic mercenaries to do their fighting for them.  Robbed of their fighting instincts, the citizens did not have the strength to hold off the fierce barbarians at the gates of Rome. 

I wondered if a contented woman used to a comfortable lifestyle could summon the necessary fire to fight off a desperate competitor over a prolonged period of time.  Was Deborah tough enough to defend her Empire against Ted the Dread?   After what I had seen tonight, I seriously doubted it.

Deborah had one major advantage.  If she failed, her husband Peter could support her effortlessly on his executive salary.  Ted had nowhere to turn, no safety net, no one to catch him if he fell.  This was it, sink or swim.  Ted and his pregnant wife were so far out on a limb that taking Saturday night off was out of the question.  Would Deborah be able to withstand the onslaught of the most relentless man I had ever met??  In the battle between the comfortable Have versus the ruthless Have-Not, who would come out on top?

As I feared, the conversation with Ted deepened my depression.  I was despondent.  My gut instinct was that Class Factory would fail and take me down with it.  Then an even darker thought crossed my mind.  Why was I giving this any thought?  What difference did it make?  If the fall of Class Factory didn't finish me off, Urban Cowboy would.  My world was crashing around me and there was no hope.  Stevens' words echoed in my mind... "Don't bother teaching Country dancing.  There's nothing to it and there's no money in it."

I could not stand this torment much longer.  Yes, I had made good money at Meyerland, but that was a fluke of the highest magnitude.  Stevens was right, there was no money in Country and definitely no satisfaction.  I had every right to throw in the towel.  Given my antipathy, there was no way I was ever going to be an effective country-western dance teacher.  A man has to like what he does to be good at it.  No matter who won, Ted or Deborah, by the end of the year, I would be looking for a new job.  My dance career was over.  That's how I felt.  However, try as I might, I could not get Ted out of my mind.  Out of curiosity, I got up and went to the edge of the hill to see if he was still down there.  Sure enough, there he was.  Ted was digging through a trash can to fetch five discarded catalogues.  I assumed he was waiting around for the concert to end so he could hand out more catalogues to people as they left the show.  A shudder passed through me.  Ted was superhuman.

In a blinding flash, I realized why I was so obsessed with Ted.  He reminded me of the person I used to be.  I was the poor kid from the broken home who had gone to prep school on scholarship.  With no parents to pay for college, I had worked at a grocery store after school for three years.  Meanwhile my high school classmates knew Daddy's money guaranteed them a college education, so why should they worry?  While my classmates enjoyed Saturday night at the country club with their dates, I was at the grocery store scrambling to make tips in case I did not earn a college scholarship.  Good grief, now I knew why I could not get Ted out of my mind.  That was ME down there on the sidewalk.  That was me sorting through the trash.  Or at least that was me before I lost my way.  Once upon a time, my entire being was wrapped around showing over-privileged St. John's students that I had just as much talent as they did. 

It was crystal clear.  Ted was on an identical mission to prove the same thing to Deborah.  Ted and I were cut out of the same cloth.  Ted was bitter.  Very bitter.  He had the same chip on his shoulder as me.  Ted didn't just want to succeed, he wanted revenge.  Want to know something?  I wanted revenge too.  I wanted to show Patricia I was just as good as she was.  I wanted her to see I was not the loser she made me out to be.  I smiled darkly as the memory of finishing in the top five of my high school graduating class crossed my mind.  I remembered graduating from college with honors.  I knew full well what bitterness does to a man.  It makes him want to fight back and prove to his pedigreed tormentors that they have misjudged him.  Bitterness makes a guy like me want to show the world that underdogs have value too. 

As I stood on my hill watching Ted in action down below, intuition told me he would succeed.  Now I understood why I had watched Ted with such fascination over these past years.  Neither of us had been born with a silver spoon.  Whatever we achieved, we did it through discipline, sacrifice and determination.  When I saw Ted handing out those catalogues, it was like looking in the mirror.  I recalled working three jobs at the same time in college, setting a record for most hours worked at the Financial Aid office.  I would do anything to succeed.  And so would Ted.

That was moment I realized Ted would win.  Deborah held considerable advantages over Ted.  Deborah had money, an Ivy League education, an established business, plus God-given talent.  She had charm, sophistication, people skills, contacts.  And what did Ted have?  Pride.  Determination.  Ted had to be scared out of his wits, but he didn't quit. 

What was wrong with me?  Why was I acting like a quitter?  Sometimes people have to do unpleasant things they are not happy about to succeed in life.  Look at Ted.  There he was standing for hours on a chilly Saturday night handing out catalogues with nothing but inner strength to spur him on.  Ted was digging through discarded food and spilled drinks without gloves on in hopes of finding a few undamaged catalogues.  A giant wave of shame came over me.  So who was the real Fool on the Hill?

Was it Ted, the guy who had invested his entire life savings in a desperate hope to win an uphill struggle against an established, well-prepared opponent?  Or was it me, the guy who was guilty of spitting on an obvious opportunity to extend his career?  I had asked for a sign to tell me what to do.  Now I had my answer. 

If teaching Western dance was the only way to keep my dream of teaching dance alive, then that was the road I would take.