The Greatest Showman #1375 - Drumming for the First Time

Johnson Clark observed Renly Hall closely as he stood before him.

It wasn't that Johnson disliked Renly; he simply didn't care for him.

To Johnson, "Renly Hall" was nothing more than a larger-than-life persona created by the media—much like other public figures such as Tom Cruise, Taylor Swift, Harrison Ford, or Beyoncé. These figures became mythicized, their lives and personalities dissected by the public, and yet, no one truly knew the real people behind these facades. Maybe Tom Cruise was a power-hungry businessman, maybe Taylor Swift was just another quirky girl, maybe Harrison Ford was a recluse, and maybe Beyoncé was simply a self-absorbed diva.

Johnson had no opinion on their personal lives. What truly interested him were people and things that existed in reality, not in the manufactured world of celebrity.

As he looked at Renly's story, Johnson thought it was hard to take seriously. The constant adoration, the endless praise—it all seemed like a fairy tale. Especially the recent media frenzy: EGOT, Best Actor Grand Slam—all of it felt overblown. Renly was only twenty-four, not even that yet! How could one actor have the world's attention?

In Johnson's mind, this was just another Hollywood fabrication. It was no different than the endless stories about George Slender or "Don Quixote," who were idolized by the masses. People adored them, but in the end, they were just selling another commodity created by the entertainment industry.

But Johnson wasn't particularly hostile to Renly. He was indifferent.

The only reason Johnson had agreed to take on this teaching role was because of his friend's suggestion.

"Come on, you've taught drum kits for years. There's no harm in this one. No matter how hard Renly is, he's just another student. Just treat him like any other, no fuss," his friend had urged.

Johnson couldn't argue with that logic.

So here he was, reluctantly waiting for Renly.

Renly had been late to their meeting, a recurring theme with many of Johnson's students, and as Johnson went outside to search for him, he wasn't surprised. After all, Renly was just another typical Hollywood celebrity.

But when they finally met, Johnson's perception started to shift.

Renly didn't fit the image Johnson had expected. The man making history seemed more like a carefree, sunny street boy than the polished superstar the media portrayed. But that realization also reaffirmed Johnson's view of the world: the media often lied about everything.

However, Johnson didn't show any of his thoughts outwardly. Instead, he maintained a polite smile as basic etiquette dictated.

Sensing the tension in the air, Renly apologized for being late, and this honesty surprised Johnson. It wasn't a simple apology—it showed accountability, something that Johnson found more admirable than most celebrities.

"I'm sorry, I'm late," Renly said without resistance, acknowledging his fault without deflecting.

This was a refreshing change from some of the wealthy students Johnson had encountered before, who would demand full billing regardless of how late they were. They often had an attitude that made the exchange feel transactional rather than human. But Renly wasn't like that. He focused on the learning process, which impressed Johnson.

"Let's start the lesson. We've got no time to waste," Renly said, polite yet focused.

Johnson was taken aback by Renly's determination and focus. It wasn't what he expected from someone with Renly's fame.

"Okay," Johnson said. "The classroom's just around the corner, you're really close. Let's go together."

They walked to the music classroom, and as they approached, Johnson added, "Actually, the classroom's the opposite direction."

Renly, a bit confused, nodded, confirming that he'd gotten it wrong. The music classroom was located in an old, weathered building on the campus of New York University's School of Music. It had once been a hub for rehearsals, but now it was often used by student clubs. Despite the musty air, dim lighting, and deteriorating walls, the space was alive with the hum of creativity.

Renly couldn't help but smile as he looked around. He'd spent years rehearsing in places just like this. Those long, dark days on Broadway, hidden away in basements or cramped rooms—he'd been through all of it, struggling, hoping his hard work would someday pay off.

"Sorry about the state of the rehearsal rooms. Spring's only just here, and the humidity in the city's a real pain," Johansson said, his tone calm and unhurried. "It should get better by summer. Please be patient."

Renly didn't mind at all. He'd seen worse and knew what it was like to work in less-than-ideal conditions.

"You've seen worse? This place is great," Renly joked, his smile tinged with irony.

Johansson wasn't sure if Renly was serious or not. The way Renly said it left room for doubt, but the conversation quickly shifted back to the task at hand.

"Which drum kit is mine?" Renly asked.

Johansson pointed to the kit on the right. "Have you ever played drums before? Or any other instrument?" he asked. "Anything with rhythm. Every instrument has its own rhythm, even if it's just melody."

He quickly shifted into teaching mode. "Sit down behind the kit. Just relax. Play a few rhythms, no pressure. I want you to get a feel for it, and then we'll talk. Sound good?"

Renly nodded, eager to begin. "No problem."

As Renly sat behind the drum kit, his nerves started to settle. This wasn't about perfection—it was about learning something new, something he had never done before. His journey as an actor had led him here, to this moment, where drumming would be his next challenge.