Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 7: Pioneer Village

The spacious four-lane road became extremely congested due to the rush hour traffic. The dense vehicles were clumsily stationary like iron cans, while the crowded masses surged towards the subway station like a school of sardines, reminiscent of a scene from a post-apocalyptic exodus. It was hard to discern whether it was envy from the laboring masses of public transport or from the salaried class who owned private cars, or perhaps the other way around.

At that moment, a teenager on a skateboard cruised along Broadway, skillfully navigating the gaps between vehicles and pedestrians. He swiftly maneuvered through, his shirt billowing in the wind, his unruly curls exuding a carefree youthfulness, igniting a splash of color amidst the bustling crowd.

Unintentionally, whether trapped in their "tin cans" or rushing towards the subway, everyone's gaze turned towards that figure, yet they could only capture the fleeting silhouette, revealing a hint of envy and nostalgia, unsure of what exactly they envied or reminisced about.

Skateboarding was a new activity Renly learned after arriving in New York. He quickly fell in love with this widely popular sport among young people. As he skated, it felt like chasing the footsteps of the wind, weaving through New York's leading but chaotic traffic matrix, lifting his spirits under the sunlight.

The streets and alleys of Manhattan resembled an orderly chessboard, with streets running east to west, numbered from First Street to 222nd Street, and avenues running north to south, numbered from First Avenue to Twelfth Avenue, interspersed with a few avenues named after landmarks like Madison Avenue, Broadway, and so on.

For skateboarding, this was perfect—straight and spacious roads, clear directions, and smooth surfaces made it effortless to glide through.

Leaving the audition venue at the Broadway Theater in Midtown, Renly skated towards Downtown. The varying heights and diverse styles of buildings morphed into streaks of light, encapsulating the city's history, culture, and customs, presenting a grand and magnificent panorama.

Gradually, the exotic scenes of Greenwich Village emerged along with the increasingly intricate streets. The scent of wandering artists—gypsies, hippies, folk rockers—permeated the streets, revealing a fragmented image distinct from the Uptown and Midtown areas, entering a fantastical world of imagination.

Crossing the bustling Fifth Avenue and entering the realm of Fourth Avenue, Renly deftly navigated through the streets, finally stopping at a secluded alley. With a light tap of his left foot, he effortlessly picked up his skateboard and stepped into the alley, flanked by two giant trash bins, the towering mottled brick walls revealing their dark red hues, the pungent scent of cannabis in the air wrinkling his brow slightly. Glancing around, it was barely past six, yet someone was already indulging in the pleasure of a joint, indicating they were troubled. With a familiar push, Renly opened the nearby silver door covered in mud stains, disappearing into the darkness.

"Hey, Jack, what's the recommended main course for tonight?" "Stanley, how was your date with Brittany last night?" "Chuck, did you manage to get tickets for the Giants game tomorrow night?"

This was a retro-style kitchen, still retaining the design of the Victorian era. At this moment, everyone in the kitchen was actively preparing for the dinner rush. Renly greeted as he passed through, and the steam-filled kitchen became even busier. Passing by the changing room, he leaned his skateboard against the door and continued forward, pushing open the large red partition door, entering the interior of the bar.

Named "Pioneer Village," this bar was a well-known jazz bar in Greenwich Village, established in 1935, one of the first jazz bars to appear in New York City. Many music enthusiasts and performing artists liked to gather here. Throughout history, many jazz legends chose this bar to record their live albums, not only because of its long history and unique atmosphere but also because of the irreplaceable quality of the audience. While there were countless art enthusiasts in New York City, only a small fraction of them were truly professional and seasoned enough to appreciate the wonderful music at "Pioneer Village."

Of course, being a jazz bar didn't mean it only featured jazz. In the present-day 21st century, it also showcased other niche and retro music genres such as folk, Bluegrass, and Blues. Occasionally, even rock bands that were gradually being marginalized by the times would perform here.

The bar opened at three in the afternoon and operated until two in the morning. The nightly two-hour live performances were the hallmark of "Pioneer Village." Not only would occasionally famous singers come to perform here, but also numerous independent musicians would come to showcase their talents and interact face-to-face with the most professional audience in New York City.

Renly had been working here for almost three months now. With flexible working hours and generous tips from customers, the income was enough to support his daily life in New York and even participate in off-Broadway performances during his spare time.

Compared to the glitz and rush of Los Angeles, New York and London had more similarities. Artists here always diligently pursued professional achievements, willing to hone their skills, participate in more real-world experiences, and progress through mutual learning.

In this city, everything—from daily theatrical performances, performances in bars and clubs, exchanges in galleries and museums, to the conversations on the streets of Greenwich Village—revolved around art. This atmosphere flowing in the blood couldn't be found in Los Angeles.

Like London, New York always harbored a deep-seated aversion to Hollywood's commercialization and entertainment unto death. Of course, did art need commercial packaging and promotion? The answer was yes. However, before commercializing everything, wouldn't it be better to focus on polishing the quality and substance of the product to increase its value? That's why Woody Allen always stayed in New York, always yearning for New York.

"Pioneer Village" could be said to be a microcosm of New York.

Being able to work here was fortunate for Renly. Here, he could exchange professional experiences with real artists, engage in heated debates with genuine enthusiasts, and immerse himself in an atmosphere of art that was invaluable.

Renly surveyed the patrons in the bar and approached the bar counter. "How did the audition go?" Neil Tyson, the bartender, was wiping clean beer mugs with an expression of anticipation on his face.

"Waiting for the call," Renly replied without complaint or pretense, stating the result straightforwardly. Neil rolled his eyes dramatically. "God, are Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg blind? Missing out on an actor like you, I don't have high hopes for the future of their project."

"How can you be sure that Tom and Steven were at the audition?" Renly's counter-question left Neil momentarily stunned, unable to retort. Then Renly burst into a brilliant smile. "Actually, they were indeed there. But unfortunately, I didn't manage to impress them."

Neil chuckled speechlessly, gesturing with a beer mug as if to hit someone. "As I said earlier, it's their loss missing you."

Renly waved his hand, not intending to continue the topic. "Who's the performer tonight?" Having missed work yesterday and the day before for the audition of "The Pacific," he was unaware of tonight's schedule.

"Jason Mraz will perform in the second half," Neil replied, causing Renly's eyes to light up. This artist had become

immensely popular last year with his song "I'm Yours," dominating the North American charts and setting records for weeks on end—a true sensation dubbed as the "male witch."

Though he soared to fame last year, Jason remained humble, often performing in major bars or small theaters, always maintaining close proximity to his audience. In an entertainment industry obsessed with profit, such modesty was rare.

"I hope he doesn't perform 'I'm Yours' tonight," Renly raised an eyebrow, expressing disdain. Neil burst into laughter. "Let's hope there are no tourist audiences tonight, otherwise..." Genuine professional audiences appreciated the music, the live performances, and the artists themselves, while tourist audiences sought only the familiar.

Renly didn't continue the conversation but raised his right hand, index and middle fingers crossed, in a gesture of prayer. The two exchanged a smile, and Renly turned around, heading towards four new guests who had just arrived. Another server nearby was about to step forward, but Renly waved to indicate she didn't need to—his timely appearance meant she didn't have to continue taking care of his area.

After eight o'clock, the bar gradually became busy as dinner time approached and the nightly live performances commenced at eight-thirty. True regulars always arrived punctually. The afternoon's audition was momentarily put aside, and Renly returned to his daily life, as if the past three months had never changed. As he handed the pepper shaker to table number eight, he noticed the hostess leading two customers to table fourteen. He quickly pulled out a menu and approached, "Good evening..." However, upon seeing Tom and Steven before him, his steps involuntarily slowed, even his words paused briefly.

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