Stewart Pierce Brown

Summary

Stewart Pierce Brown Small voice, big man (1962)

It was a miracle, Gabriel decided. The singing was a miracle. It was to tell him to go on, to keep studying, to stay in New York and make Miss Alvirez proud of him. And when he could speak and read English well, then he would get a better job. A job in an office, maybe, where it was quiet and people were kind and he could go home at five o'clock. He would have enough money to go to the movies every night.
And so he worked hard at the words and the sentences, while the radiator and the singing in his head kept him warm. Every night at the same time he heard the singing.
Source: Gutenberg

Stewart Pierce Brown Small voice, big man (1962)

Someone else in the darkened theatre called, "Hold it! Can you give it a little more, Van? We can't hear it out here."
Van Richie squinted toward the seats. "Are the mikes up?"
"All the way. You're going to have to push it."
The piano resumed. Richie's voice was true but small. The whisperer groaned. "He could use that old megaphone right about now."
When the number was over, Richie came down from the stage and joined them. "You need help, Van," Feldt said bluntly.
"What about it, Ben?" They all turned to a man sitting alone, several rows back.
Source: Gutenberg

Stewart Pierce Brown Small voice, big man (1962)

Car 43 cruised slowly up Eighth Avenue. At the wheel, Patrolman Vince Ferraro thought mixed thoughts about Patricia Ann Burke. Beside him, Sergeant Gus Kleiber watched the city in a bored and automatic way, his mind on Augustus Junior, about to take his bar exams. The radio crackled in a low key. The evening traffic was light, few people were on the streets.
The Sergeant turned heavily in his seat. "You hear that?"
"What?"
"A guy singing. Over the radio."
Ferraro shook his head. He pulled over and they listened. Routine police calls squawked from the speaker. Kleiber frowned.
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature