After having successfully given nine numbers, the dinner
came to an end the curiosity had become intense--they wanted to greet
the singer, so they started up the song, She's a Jolly Good Fellow,
and I joined in the chorus when they had finished. I did not appear.
In a few minutes they began, So Say We All of Us, to the tune of
America. That was too much for my patriotic nature, so I began and
sang alto until I had reached the dining hall and appeared in the
doorway with crutch and came before the august presence of our
doctors. In one moment they arose with glasses in hand, and one of the
older members proposed a toast to Oakland's sweetest singer, Mrs.
Blake-Alverson. After I had acknowledged their compliment by my bowed
head, one of the doctors handed me a glass, and I responded. I said,
"We will now drink to our doctors of Oakland." After they were seated,
one of the oldest of the doctors asked me how I accounted for the fact
that I retained at the age of seventy-one the voice of a woman of
twenty-five. After my satisfactory answers to a number of important
questions, they informed me that I had done this evening for their
entertainment and great pleasure an act that had never been known in
medical history before. Those present voiced the remarks with hearty
appreciation and continued applause.
The third surprise of the evening took place after the doctors had
left the table and adjourned to the large hall and drawing room.
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