A class act to the end

Shock, grief, anger, betrayal. These were the feelings that swept through the Idoldome after the stunning dismissal Wednesday night of Carly Smithson, the contestant this column has called the most electrifying in “Idol” history.

But the tidal wave of horrified feelings was entirely in the audience. On stage, Carly herself, always the most spirited and nurturing of this year’s contestants, stayed upbeat and even cheery as she said her goodbyes and took a last look around from the “Idol” stage, knowing perhaps that for a talent such as hers, now that it has been shown to the world, the journey is only beginning.

It is a funny thing about mortality -- we never have enough time. Although there is only a month left in this marathon, and although the spots on the Nokia stage are in all likelihood locked up by David Cook and David Archuleta, meaning that all the others will meet their ends very soon, Carly’s departure brings floods of anger and sadness.

While there was still a hope, while there were still lesser candidates in the field, it seems impossible to let go of every moment we might have spent with Carly on the “Idol” stage.

After the show, the crowd shook with resentment toward perceived undeserving survivors.

A strange night

From the beginning, there was an odd, jittery feeling in the Idoldome, presaging strange things to come.

Things took a decidedly dramatic turn after Brooke White and Syesha Mercado took their turns on the stage. Once Ryan Seacrest gave Brooke the all-clear, she rushed to collapse on the couch, lying face down once the show went to commercial and openly weeping, a spectacle that summoned Paula to the stage to comfort her. It also raised many an eyebrow about Brooke’s seemingly bottomless well of neediness.

Meanwhile, across the stage, Syesha, alone on her death stool, turned her back to the audience to let her tears flow, clearly thinking, “I gave it my greatest performance, and I’m still here on this stool. What more can I do for you people?”

Throughout the season, Carly has very much played the den mother on elimination night, being the first to comfort the eliminated or the merely rattled, joking around, keeping the atmosphere light even as Angel of Death Seacrest flapped his wings nearby. So when her turn at last came, had she demanded her share of comforting, especially considering the outpouring of affection for her, she would have been within her rights.

But all class to the end, she stayed smiling, cheery and grateful in her last minutes, seeming to comfort Syesha and Brooke rather than receiving reassurance herself.

So what are we to take away from this? It will take years for historians to have the time and perspective to sort through the meaning of what happened Wednesday, but in an attempt to write a first draft of history, let us consider that for all her talent, the winds were blowing against Carly from the start. Here’s why:

The Youth Vote. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times in this column: The children cannot be ignored, and Carly’s was the maturest of talents in this group.

Pastel tones. The finalists on “American Idol” are almost without exception those whose auras radiate in bright, soft, warm colors. Jordin Sparks was pure pink. Blake Lewis shone in azure. Taylor Hicks was green teal. Katharine McPhee, a light red. Carly’s aura is a deep, complex magenta (when she performs at least; her chatty aura is very sunny).

Female rockers. Seven seasons in, we can affirmatively say, they don’t seem to fare well on “Idol.”

Definition. Without a clear label of what kind of singer you are, it makes it hard to gather a consistently reliable demographic group, and a singer is forced to ride the waves of fortune from week to week.

The judges. This season, Simon Cowell in particular seems to have an outsized effect on the results. He was, ironically, very pro-Carly after her “Jesus Christ Superstar” performance, but that came after weeks of very grudging compliments at best.

Critics threw stones at the fact that Carly had a recording career prior to “Idol,” but it always seemed to me that, as a result of her past, she brought to the stage a richer, more complex and fascinating history.

The narrative I constructed for myself of Carly’s story, based on her comments and what we know of her history, went something like this: Carly stepped foot on the stage professionally very, very young, touring with “Les Miz” as early as age 8. After devoting much of her youth to music and performing, she finally, at the end of her teens, landed the big one: a record deal with a major label.

She moved from Ireland all the way to Hollywood, thinking she was on the cusp of her dreams coming true. However, for whatever reason -- poor marketing, youth, etc. -- the record did not take off. In the wreckage afterward, Carly fled L.A. for San Diego, where she waitressed at a bar through what must have been very dark times, feeling cast aside and wondering, what does she do next? The only hint of her dreams, the weekly show she performed at her bar.

Spinning her wheels

Years passed. Taking a crazy chance, she tried out for “American Idol” and was picked from the auditions to move forward. But because of problems with her immigration status, she was unable to be on the show. It must have seemed to Carly as if fate were irredeemably against her.

More time passed. She married. She kept singing in her bar. Finally she auditioned again -- and made it through.

Every night she went up on the “Idol” stage, Carly projected both the sure hand of someone who had spent her life working for this moment and the gratitude of one who had learned that life doesn’t owe her anything.

Hers was the joy not of a dream that she felt the world had an obligation to fulfill, but of a dream that had been forced to hide away until its flame was so tiny it was this close to being blown out. And then it was allowed to shine once again!

No other contestant’s story has this depth and poignancy. None could match Carly’s euphoria at being given this chance again.

To paraphrase her countryman, W.B. Yeats: A lonely impulse of delight drove her to this tumult among the clouds.

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richard.rushfield@latimes.com