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Adventure Club Tickets
The Fox Theatre - Pomona
Pomona, California
Friday, 11/29/xxxx
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50 Shades! The Musical A Christmas Carol A Christmas Story Advance Auto Parts Monster Jam Adventure Club Alejandro Fernandez Alton Brown Live American Idiot Amos Lee Andrea Bocelli Arcade Fire Arctic Monkeys Austin Mahone B.B. King Barry Manilow Beyonce Bill Cosby Billy Joel Black Crowes Black Sabbath Blue Man Group Bonnie Raitt Brad Paisley Brian Regan Brian Setzer Orchestra Bruno Mars Bryan Adams Casting Crowns, Steve Curtis Chapman & Natalie Grant Celtic Thunder Celtic Woman Cher Charlie Wilson Chicago - The Band Chicago - The Musical Chris Botti Chris Cornell Cirque Dreams: Holidaze Cirque Du Soleil - Varekai Darius Rucker Dark Star OrchestraDave Koz David Garrett Demi Lovato Diana Krall Disney's Beauty And The Beast Disney Junior Live: Pirate & Princess Adventure Disney Live! Three Classic Fairy Tales Disney On Ice: Let's Celebrate! Disney On Ice: 100 Years Of Magic Disney On Ice: Princesses And Heroes Disney On Ice: Rockin' Ever After Disney On Ice: Passport To Adventure Dixie Chicks Donny and Marie - Christmas Tour Drake & Miguel Eddie Izzard Elf Elton John Evita Flashdance Florida Georgia Line Freestyle Motocross: Nuclear Cowboyz Gabriel Iglesias Garth Brooks Gavin Degraw George Lopez George Strait Ghost - The Musical Hedley Hillsong United How The Grinch Stole Christmas Hunter Hayes & Ashley Monroe I Love Lucy - Live Onstage il Divo: A Musical Affair Imagine Dragons Irving Berlin's White Christmas J. Cole Jaheim & Chrisette Michele Jake Miller Jason Aldean Jay-Z Jeff Dunham Jerry Seinfeld Jersey Boys Jim Brickman Jim Gaffigan Jimmy Buffett Joe Bonamassa Joel Osteen John Legend John Mayer John Pinette John Prine Johnny Reid Journey & Steve Miller Band Justin Moore Justin Timberlake - The 20/20 Experience World Tour Kanye West & Kendrick Lamar Kathy Griffin Keith Urban Kenny Rogers Kings of Leon & Gary Clark Jr. Kip Moore Korn & Rob Zombie Lady Antebellum Larry The Cable Guy Lewis Black Luke Bryan Macklemore & Ryan Lewis Mamma Mia! Mannheim Steamroller Marc Anthon Martina McBride Max and Ruby - The Nutcracker Suite Merle Haggard MGMT Michael Buble Miley Cyrus -- Bangerz Tour Million Dollar Quarte Monster Energy AMA Supercross Moody Blues Moscow Ballet's Great Russian Nutcracker MythBusters: Behind the Myths Nine Inch Nail Nitro Circus Live Once Panic! At The Disco Paramore, Metric & HelloGoodbye Paul Simon & Sting PBR - Professional Bull Rider Pearl Jam Pentatonix Peter And The Starcatcher Phantom of the Opera Pink Porgy and Bess Pretty Lights PBR - Professional Bull Riders Radio City Christmas Spectacular Rain - A Tribute to The Beattles REO Speedwagon Ringling Brothers And Barnum & Bailey Circus Robert Earl Keen Robin Thicke & Jessie J Rod Stewart & Steve Winwood Ron White Selena Gomez Sesame Street Live: Can't Stop Singing Sesame Street Live: Make A New Friend Sesame Street Live: Elmo Makes Music Shen Yun Performing Arts Sister Act Skillet & Third Day Slayer & Gojira So You Think You Can Dance? - Live Tour Sting & Paul Simon Straight No Chaser Stuart McLean Styx The Addams Family The Avett Brothers The Band Perry The Book Of Mormon The Eagles The Fresh Beat Band The Harlem Globetrotters The Lion King The Nutcracker The Oak Ridge Boys The Piano Guys The Story Tour: Casting Crowns, Steve Curtis Chapman & Natalie Grant The Wizard Of Oz Theresa Caputo Third Eye Blind TobyMac Tony Bennett Trace Adkins Trans-Siberian Orchestra: The Lost Christmas Eve Twenty One Pilots UFC War Horse We Will Rock You West Side StoryWicked Willie Nelson WWE: Live WWE: SmackDown WWE: Raw Yo Gabba Gabba: Holiday Show Zac Brown Band ZZ Top Baltimore Ravens Buffalo Bills Cincinnati Bengals Cleveland Browns Denver Broncos Houston Texans Indianapolis Colts Jacksonville Jaguars Kansas City Chiefs Miami Dolphins New England Patriots New York Jets Oakland Raiders Pittsburgh Steelers San Diego Chargers Tennessee Titans Arizona Cardinals Atlanta Falcons Carolina Panthers Chicago Bears Dallas_ Cowboys Detroit Lions Green Bay Packers Minnesota Vikings New Orleans Saints New York Giants Philadelphia Eagles San Francisco 49ers Seattle Seahawks St Louis Rams Tampa Bay Buccaneers Washington Redskins Atlanta Hawks Boston Celtics Brooklyn Nets Charlotte Bobcats Chicago Bulls Cleveland Cavaliers Detroit Pistons Indiana Pacers Miami Heat Milwaukee Bucks New York Knicks Orlando Magic Philadelphia 76ers Toronto Raptors Washington Wizards Dallas Mavericks Denver Nuggets Golden State Warriors Houston Rockets Los Angeles Clippers Lakers Memphis Grizzlies Minnesota Timberwolves New Orleans Pelicans Phoenix Suns Portland Trail Blazers Sacramento Kings San Antonio Spurs Oklahoma City Thunder Utah Jazz Boston Bruins Buffalo Sabres Carolina Hurricanes Florida Panthers Montreal Canadiens New Jersey Devils New York Islanders New York Rangers Ottawa Senators Philadelphia Flyers Pittsburgh Penguins Tampa Bay Lightning
Shall I acknowledge it? The conclusion of this whole business was, that it soon became a fixed fact of my chambers, that a pale young scrivener, by the name of Bartleby, had a desk there; that he copied for me at the usual rate of four cents a folio (one hundred words); but he was permanently exempt from examining the work done by him, that duty being transferred to Turkey and Nippers, out of compliment doubtless to their superior acuteness; moreover, said Bartleby was never on any account to be dispatched on the most trivial errand of any sort; and that even if entreated to take upon him such a matter, it was generally understood that he would prefer not to-in other words, that he would refuse point-blank.As days passed on, I became considerably reconciled to Bartleby. His steadiness, his freedom from all dissipation, his incessant industry (except when he chose to throw himself into a standing revery behind his screen), his great stillness, his unalterableness of demeanor under all circumstances, made him a valuable acquisition. One prime thing was this,-he was always there;-first in the morning, continually through the day, and the last at night. I had a singular confidence in his honesty. I felt my most precious papers perfectly safe in his hands. Sometimes to be sure I could not, for the very soul of me, avoid falling into sudden spasmodic passions with him. For it was exceeding difficult to bear in mind all the time those strange peculiarities, privileges, and unheard of exemptions, forming the tacit stipulations on Bartleby's part under which he remained in my office. Now and then, in the eagerness of dispatching pressing business, I would inadvertently summon Bartleby, in a short, rapid tone, to put his finger, say, on the incipient tie of a bit of red tape with which I was about compressing some papers. Of course, from behind the screen the usual answer, ``I prefer not to,'' was sure to come; and then, how could a human creature with common infirmities of our nature, refrain from bitterly exclaiming upon such perverseness-such unreasonableness. However, every added repulse of this sort which I received only tended to lessen the probability of my repeating the inadvertence.Here it must be said, that according to the customs of most legal gentlemen occupying chambers in densely-populated law buildings, there were several keys to my door. One was kept by a woman residing in the attic, which person weekly scrubbed and daily swept and dusted my apartments. Another was kept by Turkey for convenience sake. The third I sometimes carried in my own pocket. The fourth I knew not who had.Now, one Sunday morning I happened to go to Trinity Church, to hear a celebrated preacher, and finding myself rather early on the ground, I thought I would walk round to my chambers for a while. Luckily I had my key with me; but upon applying it to the lock, I found it resisted by something inserted from the inside. Quite surprised, I called out; when to my consternation a key was turned from within; and thrusting his lean visage at me, and holding the door ajar, the apparition of Bartleby appeared, in his shirt sleeves, and otherwise in a strangely tattered dishabille, saying quietly that he was sorry, but he was deeply engaged just then, and-preferred not admitting me at present. In a brief word or two, he moreover added, that perhaps I had better walk round the block two or three times, and by that time he would probably have concluded his affairs.Now, the utterly unsurmised appearance of Bartleby, tenanting my law-chambers of a Sunday morning, with his cadaverously gentlemanly nonchalance, yet withal firm and self-possessed, had such a strange effect upon me, that incontinently I slunk away from my own door, and did as desired. But not without sundry twinges of impotent rebellion against the mild effrontery of this unaccountable scrivener. Indeed, it was his wonderful mildness chiefly, which not only disarmed me, but unmanned me, as it were. For I consider that one, for the time, is a sort of unmanned when he tranquilly permits his hired clerk to dictate to him, and order him away from his own premises. Furthermore, I was full of uneasiness as to what Bartleby could possibly be doing in my office in his shirt sleeves, and in an otherwise dismantled condition of a Sunday morning. Was any thing amiss going on? Nay, that was out of the question. It was not to be thought of for a moment that Bartleby was an immoral person. But what could he be doing there?-copying? Nay again, whatever might be his eccentricities, Bartleby was an eminently decorous person. He would be the last man to sit down to his desk in any state approaching to nudity. Besides, it was Sunday; and there was something about Bartleby that forbade the supposition that he would by any secular occupation violate the proprieties of the day.Nevertheless, my mind was not pacified; and full of a restless curiosity, at last I returned to the door. Without hindrance I inserted my key, opened it, and entered. Bartleby was not to be seen. I looked round anxiously, peeped behind his screen; but it was very plain that he was gone. Upon more closely examining the place, I surmised that for an indefinite period Bartleby must have ate, dressed, and slept in my office, and that too without plate, mirror, or bed. The cushioned seat of a ricketty old sofa in one corner bore the faint impress of a lean, reclining form. Rolled away under his desk, I found a blanket; under the empty grate, a blacking box and brush; on a chair, a tin basin, with soap and a ragged towel; in a newspaper a few crumbs of ginger-nuts and a morsel of cheese. Yes, thought I, it is evident enough that Bartleby has been making his home here, keeping bachelor's hall all by himself. Immediately then the thought came sweeping across me, What miserable friendlessness and loneliness are here revealed! His poverty is great; but his solitude, how horrible! Think of it. Of a Sunday, Wall-street is deserted as Petra; and every night of every day it is an emptiness. This building too, which of week-days hums with industry and life, at nightfall echoes with sheer vacancy, and all through Sunday is forlorn. And here Bartleby makes his home; sole spectator of a solitude which he has seen all populous-a sort of innocent and transformed Marius brooding among the ruins of Carthage!For the first time in my life a feeling of overpowering stinging melancholy seized me. Before, I had never experienced aught but a not-unpleasing sadness. The bond of a common humanity now drew me irresistibly to gloom. A fraternal melancholy! For both I and Bartleby were sons of Adam. I remembered the bright silks and sparkling faces I had seen that day, in gala trim, swan-like sailing down the Mississippi of Broadway; and I contrasted them with the pallid copyist, and thought to myself, Ah, happiness courts the light, so we deem the world is gay; but misery hides aloof, so we deem that misery there is none. These sad fancyings-chimeras, doubtless, of a sick and silly brain-led on to other and more special thoughts, concerning the eccentricities of Bartleby. Presentiments of strange discoveries hovered round me. The scrivener's pale form appeared to me laid out, among uncaring strangers, in its shivering winding sheet.I now recalled all the quiet mysteries which I had noted in the man. I remembered that he never spoke but to answer; that though at intervals he had considerable time to himself, yet I had never seen him reading-no, not even a newspaper; that for long periods he would stand looking out, at his pale window behind the screen, upon the dead brick wall; I was quite sure he never visited any refectory or eating house; while his pale face clearly indicated that he never drank beer like Turkey, or tea and coffee even, like other men; that he never went any where in particular that I could learn; never went out for a walk, unless indeed that was the case at present; that he had declined telling who he was, or whence he came, or whether he had any relatives in the world; that though so thin and pale, he never complained of ill health. And more than all, I remembered a certain unconscious air of pallid-how shall I call it?-of pallid haughtiness, say, or rather an austere reserve about him, which had positively awed me into my tame compliance with his eccentricities, when I had feared to ask him to do the slightest incidental thing for me, even though I might know, from his long-continued motionlessness, that behind his screen he must be standing in one of those dead-wall reveries of his.Revolving all these things, and coupling them with the recently discovered fact that he made my office his constant abiding place and home, and not forgetful of his morbid moodiness; revolving all these things, a prudential feeling began to steal over me. My first emotions had been those of pure melancholy and sincerest pity; but just in proportion as the forlornness of Bartleby grew and grew to my imagination, did that same melancholy merge into fear, that pity into repulsion. So true it is, and so terrible too, that up to a certain point the thought or sight of misery enlists our best affections; but, in certain special cases, beyond that point it does not. They err who would assert that invariably this is owing to the inherent selfishness of the human heart. It rather proceeds from a certain hopelessness of remedying excessive and organic ill. To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain. And when at last it is perceived that such pity cannot lead to effectual succor, common sense bids the soul be rid of it. What I saw that morning persuaded me that the scrivener was the victim of innate and incurable disorder. I might give alms to his body; but his body did not pain him; it was his soul that suffered, and his soul I could not reach.I did not accomplish the purpose of going to Trinity Church that morning. Somehow, the things I had seen disqualified me for the time from church-going. I walked homeward, thinking what I would do with Bartleby. Finally, I resolved upon this;-I wold put certain calm questions to him the next morning, touching his history, &c., and if he declined to answer them openly and unreservedly (and I supposed he would prefer not), then to give him a twenty dollar bill over and above whatever I might owe him, and tell him his services were no longer required; but that if in any other way I could assist him, I would be happy to do so, especially if he desired to return to his native place, wherever that might be, I would willingly help to defray the expenses. Moreover, if, after reaching home, he found himself at any time in want of aid, letter from him would be sure of a reply.He did not look at me while I spoke, but kept his glance fixed upon my bust of Cicero, which as I then sat, was directly behind me, some six inches above my head.I was touched. I said something in condolence with him. I hinted that of course he did wisely in abstaining from writing for a while; and urged him to embrace that opportunity of taking wholesome exercise in the open air. This, however, he did not do. A few days after this, my other clerks being absent, and being in a great hurry to dispatch certain letters by the mail, I thought that, having nothing else earthly to do, Bartleby would surely be less inflexible than usual, and carry these letters to the post-office. But he blankly declined. So, much to my inconvenience, I went myself.``I will leave them here then,'' putting them under a weight on the table. Then taking my hat and cane and going to the door I tranquilly turned and added-``After you have removed your things from these offices, Bartleby, you will of course lock the door-since every one is now gone for the day but you-and if you please; slip your key underneath the mat, so that I may have it in the morning. I shall not see you again; so good-bye to you. If hereafter in your new place of abode I can be of any service to you, do not fail to advise me by letter. Good-bye, Bartleby, and fare you well.''As I walked home in a pensive mood, my vanity got the better of my pity. I could not but highly plume myself on my masterly management in getting rid of Bartleby. Masterly I call it, and such it must appear to any dispassionate thinker. The beauty of my procedure seemed to consist in its perfect quietness. There was no vulgar bullying, no bravado of any sort, no choleric hectoring, and striding to and fro across the apartment, jerking out vehement commands for Bartleby to bundle himself off with his beggarly traps. Nothing of the kind. Without loudly bidding Bartleby depart-as an inferior genius might have done-I assumed the ground that depart he must; and upon that assumption built all I had to say. The more I thought over my procedure, the more I was charmed with it. Nevertheless, next morning, upon awakening, I had my doubts,-I had somehow slept off the fumes of vanity. One of the coolest and wisest hours a man has, is just after he awakes in the morning. My procedure seemed as sagacious as ever,-but only in theory. How it would prove in practice-there was the rub. It was truly a beautiful thought to have assumed Bartleby's departure; but, after all, that assumption was simply my own, and none of Bartleby's. The great point was, not whether I had assumed that he would quit me, but whether he would prefer so to do. He was more a man of preferences than assumptions.After breakfast, I walked down town, arguing the probabilities pro and con. One moment I thought it would prove a miserable failure, and Bartleby would be found all alive at my office as usual; the next moment it seemed certain that I should see his chair empty. And so I kept veering about. At the corner of Broadway and Canal-street, I saw quite an excited group of people standing in earnest conversation.I was thunderstruck. For an instant I stood like the man who, pipe in mouth, was killed one cloudless afternoon long ago in Virginia, by summer lightning; at his own warm open window he was killed, and remained leaning out there upon the dreamy afternoon, till some one touched him, when he fell.``Not gone!'' I murmured at last. But again obeying that wondrous ascendancy which the inscrutable scrivener had over me, and from which ascendency, for all my chafing, I could not completely escape, I slowly went down stairs and out into the street, and while walking round the block, considered what I should next do in this unheard-of perplexity. Turn the man out by an actual thrusting I could not; to drive him away by calling him hard names would not do; calling in the police was an unpleasant idea; and yet, permit him to enjoy his cadaverous triumph over me,-this too I could not think of. What was to be done? or, if nothing could be done, was there any thing further that I could assume in the matter? Yes, as before I had prospectively assumed that Bartleby would depart, so now I might retrospectively assume that departed he was. In the legitimate carrying out of this assumption, I might enter my office in a great hurry, and pretending not to see Bartleby at all, walk straight against him as if he were air. Such a proceeding would in a singular degree have the appearance of a home-thrust. It was hardly possible that Bartleby could withstand such an application of the doctrine of assumptions. But upon second thoughts the success of the plan seemed rather dubious. I resolved to argue the matter over with him again.``I'll take odds he doesn't,'' said a voice as I passed.``Doesn't go?-done!'' said I, ``put up your money.''I was instinctively putting my hand in my pocket to produce my own, when I remembered that this was an election day. The words I had overheard bore no reference to Bartleby, but to the success or non-success of some candidate for the mayoralty. In my intent frame of mind, I had, as it were, imagined that all Broadway shared in my excitement, and were debating the same question with me. I passed on, very thankful that the uproar of the street screened my momentary absent-mindedness.As I had intended, I was earlier than usual at my office door. I stood listening for a moment. All was still. He must be gone. I tried the knob. The door was locked. Yes, my procedure had worked to a charm; he indeed must be vanished. Yet a certain melancholy mixed with this: I was almost sorry for my brilliant success. I was fumbling under the door mat for the key, which Bartleby was to have left there for me, when accidentally my knee knocked against a panel, producing a summoning sound, and in response a voice came to me from within-``Not yet; I am occupied.''It was Bartleby.Still added days went by. Whether Bartleby's eyes improved or not, I could not say. To all appearance, I thought they did. But when I asked him if they did, he vouchsafed no answer. At all events, he would do no copying. At last, in reply to my urgings, he informed me that he had permanently given up copying.``What!'' exclaimed I; ``suppose your eyes should get entirely well-better than ever before-would you not copy then?''``I have given up copying,'' he answered, and slid aside.He remained as ever, a fixture in my chamber. Nay-if that were possible-he became still more of a fixture than before. What was to be done? He would do nothing in the office: why should he stay there? In plain fact, he had now become a millstone to me, not only useless as a necklace, but afflictive to bear. Yet I was sorry for him. I speak less than truth when I say that, on his own account, he occasioned me uneasiness. If he would but have named a single relative or friend, I would instantly have written, and urged their taking the poor fellow away to some convenient retreat. But he seemed alone, absolutely alone in the universe. A bit of wreck in the mid Atlantic. At length, necessities connected with my business tyrannized over all other considerations. Decently as I could, I told Bartleby that in six days' time he must unconditionally leave the office. I warned him to take measures, in the interval, for procuring some other abode. I offered to assist him in this endeavor, if he himself would but take the first step towards a removal. ``And when you finally quit me, Bartleby,'' added I, ``I shall see that you go not away entirely unprovided. Six days from this hour, remember.''``What is your answer, Bartleby?'' said I, after waiting a considerable time for a reply, during which his countenance remained immovable, only there was the faintest conceivable tremor of the white attenuated mouth.``At present I prefer to give no answer,'' he said, and retired into his hermitage.It was rather weak in me I confess, but his manner on this occasion nettled me. Not only did there seem to lurk in it a certain calm disdain, but his perverseness seemed ungrateful, considering the undeniable good usage and indulgence he had received from me.Again I sat ruminating what I should do. Mortified as I was at his behavior, and resolved as I had been to dismiss him when I entered my office, nevertheless I strangely felt something superstitious knocking at my heart, and forbidding me to carry out my purpose, and denouncing me for a villain if I dared to breathe one bitter word against this forlornest of mankind. At last, familiarly drawing my chair behind his screen, I sat down and said: ``Bartleby, never mind then about revealing your history; but let me entreat you, as a friend, to comply as far as may be with the usages of this office. Say now you will help to examine papers to-morrow or next day: in short, say now that in a day or two you will begin to be a little reasonable:-say so, Bartleby.''``At present I would prefer not to be a little reasonable,'' was his mildly cadaverous reply.Just then the folding-doors opened, and Nippers approached. He seemed suffering from an unusually bad night's rest, induced by severer indigestion than common. He overheard those final words of Bartleby.