Meet Me at the Starlight

Chapter 8

SEA BLUE BEACH

City hall is packed. Standing room only. A man in a white shirt, pleated slacks, and power tie enters with a large black portfolio under his arm. Everyone whispers that Luke Murdock will bring Sea Blue Beach into the modern era. A long line of folks study his drawings and nod their approval.

We like the look of him. Handsome in a stuffy sort of way, but will he have the town’s best interest at heart? Or merely his own?

Some folks whisper the Midnight Theater should be torn down and a new one built, but Dale Cranston sits on the town council, so his theater remains safe. And truth be told, the movie house doesn’t sit on the bedrock.

Tuesday Knight just left the rink for the town hall. We consider her one of our greatest citizens. A few of us watched her grow up from a sweet babe to an abandoned teen—oh, her mamaw, Irene Morrow, was an ugly soul—to a beautiful wife and mother, a fighter if ever there was one.

She watched the rest of us grow up. Taught us to skate. Everyone loves her. And the Starlight. Harry Smith does too, if he allows himself to think about it, but he has dollar signs for pupils.

From the sound of things, the meeting is starting. . . .

TUESDAY

She was nervous as she sat between son and grandson, with Spike on the other side of Dupree, in an overflowing town hall. By the time Harry banged his gavel and spoke into the microphone, she felt a bit faint. Was this it? The end of it all?

“It’s good to see so many in support of Sea Blue Beach’s future.” Harry introduced the council members, to which Tom Caster called out, “We know who you are, we voted for you. Move along, Harry.”

So the mayor turned everything over to Luke Murdock, the man of the hour, vice president of Murdock Development. He was young, handsome, and modern. Tuesday felt old, wrinkled, and from an age gone by.

Mr. Murdock gave a rousing speech about how proud they were to partner with Sea Blue Beach, the gem of the North Florida coast, with the white-sand beaches, blue-green waters, and inlets for fishing, kayaking, boating, and swimming.

He showcased the drawings of their future—condos and hotels, shops and restaurants—declaring that families, vacationers, honeymooners, and tourists from all over the world would be clamoring to visit Sea Blue Beach. The local business owners would see tremendous growth. Why, they’d all be millionaires by the year 2000. Lah-de-dah.

Okay, so he didn’t say that, but he sure implied it. Tuesday would be a hundred years old in 2000. What did she need with millions? She just needed her Starlight.

“If you want to be a leader in the new century,” Murdock concluded, “you must prepare now.”

The gallery burst into applause. Oh, this guy was good.

Tuesday glanced at Dup, who listened intently, then at Matt. She was losing them both, she could feel it. Spike, on the other hand, sat with his thick arms folded over his chest, frowning. He sniffed malarkey when it was being shoveled.

“So you bring in more tourists. How does this impact us?” Audra still wore her Blue Plate Diner apron and chef’s beanie. “Sea Blue Beach is run by mom-and-pops. We don’t even have a McDonald’s. Will the Sea Blue Beach of the future be littered with chain restaurants and businesses? That will kill us locals.”

“Great questions...” Luke glanced at Harry, who whispered Audra’s name. “Audra. As of now, Murdock has no plans to bring in competing businesses. As far as we’re concerned, the shops and restaurants of Sea Blue Beach will service all its visitors.”

“That remains to be seen,” Hank said. He was the general manager at Biggs and a regular at the Starlight with his kids. “It will be harder for us to maintain a larger demand. Next thing we know, you’re bringing in chain stores who will undercut our costs, and we’ll be closing our doors.”

“Hank, Hank, why so doom and gloom?” Now Harry was the snake-oil salesman. “Eventually, of course, we’ll want new business. But there will be plenty to go around.”

Luke tugged on his tie as he pointed to the new downtown. “The park with the splash pad and the additional downtown parking will go here.” He circled a pretty-looking park adjacent to an enormous condominium that would replace the Starlight and cast a shadow over the whole downtown.

“Can I bring my Bessy to the splash pad?” Fred Martin always had the oddball question. “She loves water.”

“Bessy?” Luke said. “Certainly. Children as well as adults will be welcomed.”

“Bessy is his cow, Luke.” Harry hammered the gavel. “Fred, you cannot bring your cow to the town square. Folks, let’s take this seriously, all right?”

“Let me get this straight, Murdock.” Matt stood. “You’re destroying the beautiful Starlight, the most unique and historic roller-skating rink in the country, for a run-of-the-mill condo, a parking lot, and a splash pad?”

“And a park.” Luke slapped his hand against the rendering. “Don’t forget the park.”

“Well, of course not the park. The one right next to a gorgeous white-sand beach that already has pavilions for picnics and family gatherings.”

“Wait a minute, you look familiar,” Luke said. “Are you—”

“He is,” Harry said with a sigh. “Matt Knight. Don’t let his star power distract you.”

“Not at all, Harry. Matt Knight, everyone, the great Lieutenant Striker from Flight Deck.” Luke started a round of rousing applause. “Harry, you never said you had a celebrity in your midst. This will maximize Sea Blue Beach’s success.” He pulled a small white card from his shirt pocket and stretched over the front row, handing it to Matt. “Let’s talk. Do you have a restaurant or any business here? We’ve got retail spaces available.”

Murdock was schmoozing her grandson. Right in front of her. Back off, Murdock. He’s here for me.

Matt took the card out of sheer courtesy, naturally, but Tuesday snatched it from him and crumpled it against her palm. She was eighty-seven. She could do what she wanted.

“I appreciate your kind words, Murdock.” Matt knew a thing about schmoozing too. “Except I’m here to defend the Starlight. Though you are amusing.” He turned to the room. “He’s a better actor than I am.”

Tuesday patted his back. Bravo. Then Dup leaned around and said in a hushed tone, “Sit down, Matt. Hear him out.”

She knew it. Her youngest son was for this new Sea Blue Beach and against the Starlight.

“Here’s our proposal for the town square.” Luke switched to a different drawing. “We expand Sea Blue Way to manage increased traffic.”

“You’re taking out all those old fishing shacks?” The question came from the left side of the room.

“The seller was more than happy to let them,” Harry said.

“About time. Those were an embarrassment.”

Consensus was starting to build. People liked the idea of progress, of updating the older, less appealing part of town.

Luke bragged how the Blue Plate Diner and other businesses along Sea Blue Way would be able to expand, since the new parking lot required reengineering that section of the beach. The Starlight’s parking lot would be torn up for the road improvements and public parking. The sewer system would be upgraded as well—a benefit to all. Even the quaint old Sands Motor Motel could get rid of the broken cistern and hook up to city water. And of course new residents and vacationers will fill their “big, beautiful high-rise.”

When Luke finished, folks were smiling. Whispering and nodding.

“...good for Sea Blue Beach.”

“...been wanting to expand my shop for years.”

“...tax dollars finally put to good use. More revenue for us all in the long run.”

“...high school needs a new gym.”

“. . . the condo blocks all the light. I don’t like it.”

Tuesday had heard enough. “I’d like a word.” She planted her hand on Dup’s shoulder and pushed to her feet. “Seems to me the only business that gets destroyed is mine.”

“The Starlight stands on the bedrock that holds this town together,” Harry said. “We need that land going forward for the expansion.”

“Which says to me that the Starlight holds us all together. It’s a picture of our history.” She turned to face her peers. “Remember when we all said, ‘Meet me at the Starlight,’ and we’d skate until midnight?” Back to Harry. “Why can’t you just use the bedrock the Starlight isn’t sitting on?”

“We plan on it, but the Starlight is the bottleneck. It will take some engineering to do all we want, so in order to get things going, Murdock wants to build the first condominium.” The room began to rumble. “The money from one building alone could increase our revenues by thirty percent. Murdock predicts each new hotel, condo, and business will do the same—if not more.”

“Thirty percent? I smell skullduggery.” Tuesday gave Murdock a sharp glance. “What we’ll get is a bunch of high-rises blocking the sun, new business that steal from the old, and a splash pad full of sand, ’cause that’s where folks will rinse off after a day at the beach.”

“And no Starlight,” someone shouted from the back of the room.

A chorus of “Hear, hear” followed.

“Tuesday, we all love the Starlight, but we can’t stop progress.” Another voice declared from the back with the corresponding “Hear, hear.”

“Is skating even all that popular anymore?” Dale Cranston spoke up. “We have the Beachwalk. Folks can Rollerblade outside.”

“Then we don’t need a movie theater, Dale.” Tuesday scooted past Dupree into the aisle. “The Starlight was the port in the storm for so many while Prince Blue and Malachi Nickle built this town. Some of us in this room hunkered down at the Starlight during the Great Hurricane of 1935. During the Depression and beyond, anyone who needed a place to lay their head was welcomed. It didn’t matter from where they hailed. The Starlight was the first church, the town hall, even the jail for a short while—and always a place for families to have fun together. A place to sing and laugh with other folks. Why, the first moving picture was shown at the Starlight.” She made the claim without looking at Dale.

“The prince loved this town. He loved roller skating, said it brought folks together. ‘Best way to cast off your cares is put on a pair of wheels and go round and round under Immanuel’s eyes,’ he’d say. He put his own wealth, sweat, blood, and tears into this town and that rink. Same as Malachi. They were men of honor and integrity. Why, Harry, Malachi taught you to fish when your daddy was known as Drunk Dirk, and if memory serves, you kissed your first girl in the Starlight’s concession.”

The room hooted with laughter.

“Cecilia,” Tuesday went on, “Spike gave you your first job, and Paul, you’re a banker now, but who showed you how to count cash and make change?”

Harry banged his gavel. “Tuesday, this is all well and good, but it’s the past. It’s my opinion, and the town council’s, that the prince and Malachi would want Sea Blue Beach prepared for the future. They were visionaries, and we”—he motioned to the council—“carry their heart.”

“Harry, why can’t we put this to a town vote?” Dion Jackson, who ran Jackson Landscaping, presented a fair question. “You can still be a visionary without throwing out the traditions and history that unite us.”

“A vote? That’s not how it works, Dion. You voted for us to make these decisions on behalf of the citizens. Now we—”

“We can start a petition,” someone said.

“The town charter allows us a special referendum.” Millicent Bakewell taught history at the high school. “If five percent of the population signs a petition, we’d have a referendum for a vote. That’s about three hundred folks. We got half that in here right now.”

“No, no, no.” Please, someone take that gavel from Harry. “The town council decides.”

“I think we’re onto something,” Dion said. “Who can work on a petition?”

Mary, who owned the Tasty Dip, raised her hand. Tyler Neal from the Copycat Print Shop joined in, said he’d work with Mary.

“Count me in,” Matt said. “I’ll throw my celebrity into the ring just like Luke here suggested.”

Well, it got a bit wild after that, with folks talking at once, yelling and pointing at one another. Tuesday sank down to her seat.

“Look what you started,” Dupree whispered.

“I’ve protected the Starlight for over fifty years. I’m not about to give up now.”

Up front, Luke argued with Harry, saying something to the effect of, “If you’re going to back out over a stupid skating rink, we’ll go on down the road.”

The cry for the vote swelled. “Vote, vote, vote, vote.”

“Quiet!” Harry jumped onto the table like a madman, shouting, “I’m the mayor of this town, and I will make the decisions, along with my town council. Now—”

“We want a special referendum, Harry. We want a vote on this here progress.” Dion’s voice echoed in the hall.

Paul Minor was new to the town council and the first to cave. “It’s in our charter, Harry. You have to let them try. And as I told you, I’m not convinced about this expansion, especially if it means swinging a wrecking ball through the Starlight.”

“I don’t mind putting it to the town either,” Cecilia said. “It’s a big decision.”

Tuesday squeezed Matt’s hand. They were going to win. While the council deliberated on the timing of the petition and subsequent vote, Tuesday asked Matt to help her stand on her chair.

She whistled with her fingers like old Burt from her younger Starlight days taught her. “Everyone interested in helping with the petition and referendum, meet me at the Starlight tomorrow morning at nine.”