“Oh, no. It is Miss Blankenship who has his heart. He is merely being gentlemanly,” I said, and felt myself blushing furiously.
Jacob and I set off, along Rivington until we struck the Bowery. This broad thoroughfare was full of life on a sunny Sunday. Theaters were just opening, many of them offering plays in Yiddish. Cafés were doing a brisk trade. Jacob paused in front of one small theater that advertised moving pictures. COME AND EXPERIENCE THE WONDER OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY, the billboard proclaimed. YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE YOUR EYES!
“Now that is something that truly interests me,” Jacob said. “Photographs capture a moment, but moving pictures—that is the way of the future, Molly.” He looked at me expectantly. “Would you like to go to a performance with me?”
“Now?” I asked. “Why, thank you, Jacob, I’d love to. If you’ve nothing you should be doing at this moment, that is.”
“Nothing better than this. I’ve been twice already, but the scenes never fail to fascinate me.”
“I’ve heard about moving pictures, but I’ve never seen them yet.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” He took my arm and escorted me to the ticket booth.
We joined the crowd inside the darkened theater where an organist was playing in front of red velvet curtains. I was conscious of Jacob sitting close beside me in the dark, and it disturbed me how aware I was of his presence. Then even this closeness was forgotten. The curtains parted to reveal a screen.
Words appeared on the screen. “Ladies and gentlemen. Prepare yourselves for an outrageous journey of entertainment and delight. Hold onto your seats, folks, and ladies, do not be alarmed. What you see is only an image on the screen. It cannot harm you.”
The organ music increased and suddenly an image appeared on the screen. It was an ocean with waves breaking. My, but it was so real, you could almost smell the salt in the air and hear the cry of seagulls. The waves came closer and closer. Suddenly a giant wave came crashing at the screen. I heard screams and several people leaped to their feet. I touched my own face, half expecting to be wet. I could see Jacob grinning in the darkness. “A good illusion, wouldn’t you say?” he whispered.
The next scene was of a group of inept policemen chasing a car. This was most amusing and the theater resounded to laughter. Then the car changed direction and drove directly at the camera. Again people leaped to their feet, then laughed in embarrassment when they realized it could not reach them. Then the scene changed again. The title appeared on the screen. The Kiss. We were in a lady’s boudoir. A young man stole in through the open French doors. The young damsel, seated at her vanity, seemed amazed and delighted to see him. He took her into his arms. They gazed into each other’s eyes and then there was a gasp from the audience as his lips fastened upon hers. The scene only lasted for a few seconds and then it faded. The show was over. The audience rose, still muttering in horror at what they had just seen.
“What did you think?” Jacob asked as we were jostled toward the exit.
“It was so real. Almost as if we were there.”
“If I ever make any money, I plan to build myself such a camera,” Jacob said.
“And make a moving picture called The Kiss?” I teased.
He shook his head. “I have other plans. I could take my camera back to Russia and bring back living proof to the world of the cruelties and injustices going on there. I could take it to the Boer War in South Africa and show the world what war is really like. If ordinary people knew what was going on, we could change the world.”
“That’s a wonderful notion, Jacob, but an awful risk for yourself.”
“Someone has to take risks or nothing changes,” he said.
We stood blinking in the bright sunlight.
“I almost forgot that it was daylight outside,” I said.
“Should we take the trolley or do you feel up to walking?” Jacob asked.
“Do I look like a frail young thing who might faint at any moment?” I demanded.
“No, I’d say that you looked most robust and healthy.” His frank gaze made me blush again.
He had barely uttered those words when Nell Blankenship appeared, like magic, from a café.
“Jacob. Molly. What a surprise,” she said. Her eyes were fixed on me and her expression indicated that she wasn’t overjoyed to see me.
“Hello, Nell,” Jacob said. “A lovely day, isn’t it?”
“Sid, Gus, and I have been viewing Jacob’s photographs. He is very talented,” I said hastily.
“He is indeed,” she said. “So where are Sid and Gus? I should like to thank them for last night.”