Zac played with the strings on his guitar as the roar of screams outside grew more and more intense. He had to admit this tour thing was an excellent idea. He got clearance for three shows in New England to try it out. So far, the first two shows were sold out and the third one was almost there. The success was more than Zac had imagined. Hanson didn't even sell out the first three shows. He was one-third of Hanson so he expected one-third of the ticket sales. It turned out everybody wanted to hear him play.
He didn't have an opening act, just two other people acting as a back-up band, one on piano and one on drums. Despite what his parents had said, he'd insisted on going alone with just a few managers from Hanson to support him and keep him safe on the road. He could have very well just done the whole thing by himself, as it was he was the one who booked the arenas to play at, but he was still only sixteen.
He waited backstage as the equipment and everything was finished being set up. Once he got the signal to go, he cracked his knuckles, loosened up, and walked out on stage with his guitar. The equipment was still being set up behind the large curtain, but it'd be done by the time he finished his first song.
The roar of screams coming from the audience only escalated when the spotlight hit him and he walked to the center of the stage. Smiling, he looked out on the crowd of fans. "Hello," he said. The crowd of screams greeted him with a deafening hello back. "Wow. I wasn't expecting so many people. This proves Taylor and Isaac don't get all the fans. I do." He laughed a bit nervously. Although he'd always felt at home in front of an audience, he hadn't performed in front of this many people in a long time and he'd never done it alone. Even on the last show of the tour, he'd kept an eye on Taylor and Isaac on the side of the stage, rooting him silently on.
He put his fingers on the strings on his guitar. "I'm going to play a few songs for you tonight. I wrote them all over the course of the past few weeks; I've been so bored that I've done nothing but write the entire time. I'll start out with one you may or may not know, I did it at the last concert with my brothers and I just figured it'd be sort of an ice breaker, it helps me out because I've done it before. I hope you guys enjoy yourselves�" With a smile on his face his fingers began to expertly fly over the strings on the guitar and he began the show.
During the bridge from song to song, Zac chatted with the crowd, joked with them, all in all just had a good time with them. From what he could tell, they seemed to be having fun. But when he was about to play the anti-war protest song he'd written from Taylor's idea, which happened to be one of the last songs he'd planned on playing, he grew serious.
"You know, this war in Korea really bites," he said into the microphone, taking it off the stand and walking to a part of the stage to retrieve a stool. "I've never been a violent person and I've always been taught that the only good way to solve a problem is through communication." He put the stool at center stage and sat down on it. "Well I don't think killing a whole bunch of people is considered communication. Do you?" The crowd erupted into a loud roar of 'no.' "Yeah, that's what I thought. So they're going by this the entirely wrong way. And those jackasses in Washington aren't doing a damn thing about it! They're actually sending troops in there to help! Yeah? Do you know who's with them? My brothers! People you know, maybe people you're close to and love. Now are we going to sit and do nothing about it and let people we love die, or are we going to protest?" he yelled. Oh my God what am I doing? The thought flashed through Zac's mind once or twice during his speech bit it wasn't enough to stop him. "We're going to protest! Who cares if we're young, we are going to do something about it! We are going to stop the war! Come on, say it with me! Stop the war!" Zac smiled as his chant took a life of its own and before he knew it, he had the entire theater shouting out 'Stop the war! Stop the war!' "That's perfect. Now all of you, I can't do it without you, I need all of you to help me with this! Tell your friends, tell your family near and far, call up the radio stations and anything else you can think of. We are going to stop this war because we are going to boycott it! It starts with you and if I can get you to walk out here believing this war should be stopped, then so be it! Will you do that for me? For my brothers fighting for their lives in Korea?" The chanting erupted into screams and Zac felt good about himself. He always knew he had an affect on his audience, he just had no idea he could do something with it.
Three more songs and a hell of a lot more ideas on how to protest the war, Zac said goodnight. "Goodnight, everybody, you've been a wonderful audience. With your help we can truly make a difference. I want you to go out there and tell everyone you meet, everyone you know that it's all about world peace and it's all about loving one another and this war needs to be stopped!" The crowd roared in agreement. "And everyone�do it peacefully." He smiled and flashed a peace sign before walking off the stage.
"Oh my God what the hell was that?" one of the people backstage mentioned to Zac.
"What was what?"
"You just completely convinced ten thousand girls to go out and protest the war in Korea."
"You think it worked?" Zac asked, smiling. He unstrapped his guitar and handed it a roadie nearby. "I don't know, some of the ones I could see didn't seem so enthusiastic as some of the others. I don't think all of them will do it."
"Zac, never underestimate the power of the teenage girl." Zac shrugged and followed his manager to an awaiting black Mercedes that Zac would be using to go to and from shows. There were two or three other ploy cars of the same make and model to go in front of and in back of his. He got into the back of the car with his manager.
As they pulled out of the lot, Zac was astounded at the number of girls who'd made their way out of the theater so quickly. "Wow, there's a lot of people out here. Don't hit anybody," he said to the driver.
"I'll try," the driver said to him, glancing at him in the rearview mirror with a smile. Zac smiled back. "It's just so easy."
"Well if you have to hit someone, chicks in red shirts are an extra five points, chicks in blue hats are an extra ten," Zac commented. The driver laughed and they got out of the parking lot without hitting anybody. With the money the band had made from the last couple of shows on the tour, Zac could afford to spend some of it extravagantly on his own tour. He rented a private jet, being sick of the tour bus, to use to go from show to show. It also allowed him to get to places faster and he could do more shows in less time.
When they got to the airport, Zac was pretty much another face in the crowd because all of the fans had been at the show and couldn't possibly get here before he did. He had people to take care of his stuff for him, so he went straight on the plane. He sat down and looked around at the personalized jet. This he could get used to.
"Whoa," Zac said, turning up the volume on the television set a few days later. A very large group of girls from the three towns he'd done were in Central Park, decked out with signs and chants of anti-war in Korea. There were even quite a few people who wouldn't dare be caught in one of his concerts, holding signs and chanting 'Stop the War! Stop the War!'
Zac picked up the phone that connected to the driver of his limo. "Yes, Mr. Hanson?"
"New plan of action. Take me back to the airport."
"Yes sir." Zac put the phone down and in ten minutes he was back at the airport, speaking with the pilot of his private jet.
"How fast can you get me there?" he asked, tapping his foot anxiously. If the protest was on the news, it was very likely that it would be broken up if he wasted too much time. He really wanted to be there.
"Within the hour, Mr. Hanson."
"Then let's go."
Zac sat nervously on his couch, tapping his foot and singing under his breath. He wasn't quite sure how much time he had before the protest was broken up but he knew he had to be there. He had time before his next concert, if the pilot can get him in New York in under an hour then he had time to get there, become part of the protest, and get back to Delaware in time for his next concert that night. And the fans could wait. He'd have to make a public apology if he was late, but they'd understand if he explained he was part of a protest.
After arriving in New York, Zac ran though the airport with his driver and got into a car, speeding through the city to the protest that was going on in Central Park. Traffic wasn't as bad as it would be in an hour or so, so they got there in a substantial amount of time.
There was a news crew in front of the protest, talking to some of the people when Zac got there. Other than that it was the protestors and the numerous amount of people who were daily going through Central Park. Many of them stopped to see what was going on but a lot of them just passed by as if it were an everyday occurrence; nothing worth turning their head for.
"There he is!" someone shouted from the crowd as they saw Zac approaching. This was very dangerous indeed; he didn't even have a bodyguard with him. But if he could control this crowd like he controlled the crowds in his last three concerts, all would go down peacefully. The group of people looked over and erupted into more chants and a few outcasted shouts of praise.
"Calm down! Calm down!" Zac said to the crowd, standing noticeably apart from them so he wouldn't be drowned out in the sea of faces. "We're supposed to be doing this peacefully! Do we want to revert to what those jerks in Washington are doing? Do we want to sink to their level?"
"NO!"
"That's what I thought. Everybody calm your voices and let's do this peacefully." Zac smiled and walked through the crowd to the front. When he got there, he linked hands with the people on either side of him and the protest began again. The news crew spotted him there and rushed him. He inwardly groaned at their prominent vulture qualities, but gave them a peaceful smile when they approached him. The cameraman was up in his face and the female reporter nearly shoved the microphone at him.
"Zac, did you start this revolt?"
"It's not a revolt, it's a protest," he calmly stated. "And it's only a foreshadow of what's to come."
"What are you protesting?"
"Are you even listening to us?" he asked, but stopped himself from insulting her further. He silently calmed himself down. "We are protesting the war in Korea and the decision the President has made to send innocent men and women, who haven't even had a chance to really live yet, to fight a silly war that we're not even involved in. As it is, a fourth of those people have already died and we're just sending more people in to add to the body count."
"Does this have anything to do with your brothers being part of those people sent to Korea?"
"This has everything to do with them being in Korea. They're token examples of what we're protesting. My brother Taylor is barely nineteen and he's off in a far away country killing people. Innocent people are dying and that isn't right. I don't care if it's American citizens or Korean hierarchy, no one has a right to die this way."
"Do you know that you are committing a federal offense by protesting on private property?" she asked.
"We're actually on the public property of Central Park, in which we have every right to be here. I know we're committing a federal offense and frankly I don't give a damn. I'm exercising my freedom of speech and if they don't like it they can do what they have to, but it won't stop me."
"What if the police come? What will you do?"
"Sit here and continue the protest. I'm not afraid of a few cops. We're being peaceful here so they have no right to harm us in any way, shape, or form. And it lands me in jail, so be it."
Five minutes later Central Park was swarming with police, many dressed in riot gear in case anything broke out. The news crew fled at the first sight of them to a more secure spot, where they could still film but wouldn't be a part of the actual bust. Zac remained in the front, standing defiantly against the approaching police.
"You the leader of this riot?" a cop asked Zac, recognizing him and the latest news about his anti-war, anti-violence views.
"I'd hardly call this a riot," Zac responded, lifting an eyebrow. "We're protesting peacefully."
"Well then, you the leader of this protest?" he asked.
"I have a main part of it, yes."
"Then you tell your friends here to go home or you'll all spend the night in jail."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Zac said, sticking out an indignant chin.
"Then I'm going to have to arrest you," the cop said. He grabbed Zac and pulled him away from the crowd, then forcefully turned him around and handcuffed his hands behind his back. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, in which I know you can, the court will provide you one�" Zac rolled his eyes and looked at the crowd, who'd begun to badmouth the cop that now had a firm hold on Zac.
"Guys, don't do anything stupid," Zac said, raising his voice so the entire crowd could hear him. They'd all soon be taken care of and sent away with him, maybe not all to the same place but they'd all be taken to jail. The majority of them were young, the same age as him, but female. He didn't want to see so many young girls be taken to spend time in jail but if it brought awareness to his message, then this wouldn't all be in vain.
The cop shoved Zac towards a nearby cop car, and with one hand secure on his handcuffs, the cop opened the door and shoved Zac inside, his hand on Zac's head so he wouldn't hit it against the door. Getting in a car with his hands cuffed behind his back was an experience he never thought he'd have to live through.
The cop got in the car and pulled away with the sound of the siren blaring overhead. Zac sighed and rested his head back against the seat. The last thing he'd expected when he started his tour was to spend the night in jail�
"Maybe this will give you some sense, kid," the cop said, glancing back at him. "This town doesn't tolerate protestors."
"Too bad."
"Don't think you're being a martyr to those kids out there. There are a lot of little minds you're corrupting with your hippie remarks. Listen, you're not doing anything here. I bled in Vietnam for this country while drugged out music freaks thought it'd all end because of their sit ins and protests. It doesn't work that way. Have you learned anything from history?"
"I learned that violence is not the way to solve problems. I know while you bled in Vietnam the only stop for the war was the country's leaders and peaceful activists' conversations. I know that the war didn't end because of bloodshed; it ended because people signed documents. No one put a gun to their head to do it, either."
"You're na�ve, kid. You'll never get anywhere with this."
"If it gives one person the sense that violence never solves anything, I've done my part."
"You know what you're doing to these kids?" the cop asked. "You're setting them up for a major let down. You know my own daughter was out there with you hippies. You know how much it hurts to know that I have to arrest my own daughter?"
"I know she'll be better off because of it."
"You shut up, kid. If it weren't for you my daughter would be better off." Zac shrugged, a mug smile on his face. He waited in silence until he was taken down to the station. After a routine procedure, he was thrown in a cell.
"Don't I get a phone call?" he asked, stepping up to the bars and taking hold of them in his two hands.
"Fine." The officer opened the cell and led him to a pay phone nearby. He gave him two quarters and then sat back down at his desk, keeping a close eye on the prisoner, in case he decided to make any sudden movements towards the door. Zac picked up the phone and put the money in, dialing a number.
"Hello?"
"Hey Ron, it's me," Zac said, looking around. The last person he wanted to call was his manager to come and bail him out, but he couldn't remember anyone else's number.
"Zac? Where are you and why are you calling me from a pay phone?" Zac bit his lip.
"I'm in jail."
"Jail!" Ron yelled. "Why the hell are you in jail?"
"Listen, I'll explain it to you later, just come in and bail me out, okay?"
"Fine." Zac smiled.