Blackbird ArchiveGarden Spot, U.S.A., Act I
(The public park in Garden Spot, U.S.A. A stylized park scene. To one side stands the heroic statue of the GENERAL. There are several park benches. There is a large trash barrel labelled TRASH. There is a KEEP OFF THE GRASS sign and a DO NOT PICK FLOWERS sign. The curtain rises on a perfectly frozen scene, lifeless as a photograph. Two old men, PAT and MIKE, are bent over a checkerboard. The others are perfectly still, as if caught in an action photograph: A MAID pushing a baby carriage; a POLICEMAN passing her, his hand on the visor of his cap, as if he were just about to raise it. A young couple arm in arm. An athlete in a sweat suit, the sweatshirt bearing the stenciled label—P.E. GYM. . . . Suddenly the STRANGER appears, from behind the statue of the GENERAL. He wears black full dress, a cape, white gloves, and he carries a gold-headed cane. Briskly salutes the statue as he enters.)
STRANGER General . . .
(He strides across the stage, invisible, of course, to the others. He looks around quickly, well pleased. Using his cane like a baton, he waves it and exits. The others instantly come to life. The sweat-suited athlete jogs by, puffing and blowing. The maid crosses. The policeman tips his hat and smiles. They take a couple of steps, turn simultaneously to look at each other. The policeman tips his hat again. The maid sticks out her tongue at him. And they are gone . . . The young couple crosses, arm in arm, talking intently in low voices . . . Under a park bench JACK is fast asleep, his bare feet protruding. He is the town bum and drunk, who holds down the vague job of keeping the park more or less clean and picked up. A young man, a TRAVELING SALESMAN, enters. He carries an attaché case. Glances at his wristwatch, checking it against the unseen Courthouse Clock . . . Then he sits down on a bench. Carefully he opens the attaché case in his lap; from it he removes his lunch—a sandwich, an apple, a thermos bottle . . . JILL WORTHY enters. She is a young pretty girl, rather primly dressed. She is the town librarian. She carries her lunch in a paper sack. The only empty bench is the one under which JACK is sleeping. Just as she starts to sit down, he stirs and snorts in his sleep and she notices him. Seeing his dirty bare feet, she gives a little wince of disgust and moves over to the bench where the YOUNG MAN is sitting. He smiles politely and makes room for her. They exchange a nod and a smile. She takes an apple out of her paper bag and is about to bite into it. He is also just about to bite into his apple. At that moment, they steal a second look at each other. They smile and move a little farther apart. Once again, they raise their apples in unison, turn to look, smile, lower their apples and open their mouths to speak . . . At precisely that instant a loud siren begins to wail, drowning out any possibility of conversation, and the Courthouse Clock begins to strike twelve times. At that, JILL and the YOUNG MAN smile and shrug. As soon as the siren begins to wail: (1) PAT and MIKE stop their checker game long enough to check the time on large gold pocket watches, nod with satisfaction to each other and bend over their checker game again. (2) JACK wakes up with a start and comes crawling out from under the park bench, looking around wildly as if it were Judgment Day. Then he stretches painfully and, scratching himself, goes straight to the trash barrel. He fumbles and rummages inside of it, coming up with: (a) a short stick with a nail in the end of it for picking up trash, (b) a burlap bag with a strap, and (c) a battered visor cap. He squares the cap in a military manner, gives a neat sober salute to nobody in particular with the stick, then assumes the classic en garde position of a fencer. Then he looks around quickly and, seeing that no one is paying any attention to him, he rummages in the trash barrel again and produces a bottle of whiskey he has hidden there. Takes a long drink and puts the bottle in his burlap sack. Suddenly JACK notices something on the unseen Courthouse. He rubs his eyes and looks again in pure amazement, then he advances on the YOUNG MAN and JILL.
JACK Hey! You know what? The bastard didn’t move. He didn’t even budge.
YOUNG MAN Are you speaking to me?
JACK Who do you think I’m talking to—the General? (indicates the statue)
YOUNG MAN I’m afraid I didn’t hear what you said.
JACK I said: The courthouse clock struck noon with its usual dull and plonking, leaden tones. The damn old siren in the Firehouse went off like the trump of doom itself and stirred me out of a daydream of fame and riches and pure respectability. And in spite of all that godawful cacophany, that chaos of noise unleashed upon a startled universe, that old bastard up there didn’t even budge!
YOUNG MAN Watch your language, Mr. (in a more confidential tone) There’s a lady present.
JACK Oh—her. She knows what a bastard is.
JILL Oh!
YOUNG MAN Now wait a minute . . . !
JACK If she doesn’t know what a bastard is, she ought to. She works in the library, and if she doesn’t know, she can look it up. Anyway, I was only speaking metaphorically.
YOUNG MAN Is he annoying you, ma’am?
JACK I am not. She’s just very sensitive.
YOUNG MAN Lady, if he’s annoying you, you just say the word.
JILL Thank you very much for your concern. But I am perfectly able to cope with any . . .
JACK Cope? Cope? You can say that again. That’s one thing nobody can ever take away from you, Jill Worthy, worthy Miss Worthy, you can really cope. Look at her! Just look at her! She is a pretty near perfect example of the modern American female. You know what the trouble with the modern American woman is?
JILL I believe you said you noticed something—unusual.
JACK Indeed I did. Something very unusual. And if you will allow me to dispose of the problem of modern American women . . .
JILL Nobody is the least bit interested in your theories. They’re completely juvenile and predictable. And, anyway, we have all heard them over and over and over.
YOUNG MAN I haven’t. I’m a stranger here myself.
JACK You’re just trying to make me look ridiculous.
JILL That seems to be your vocation. It’s the only thing you do really well.
YOUNG MAN What line of work are you in anyway?
JACK Work?
YOUNG MAN Do. What do you do?
JACK Sir, you are speaking to the unabridged and unexpurgated conscience of this town. In spite of my, shall we say, casual appearance, I am a philosopher. I am a park bench philosopher in the grand old American tradition.
YOUNG MAN Yeah, like Bernard Baruch.
JACK I have heard of the gentleman’s reputation. I won’t ask you your line of work—I won’t even ask you what in the world has caused you to stop here in Garden Spot—dear old Garden Spot—the most dreary—the most godforsaken little old . . .
JILL Jack?
JACK Huh?
JILL You were about to tell us something you had noticed, before you digressed.
JACK Digression is the essence of my style.
YOUNG MAN Oh, yeah?
JILL May I ask what it was—or is it some kind of a big secret?
JACK You are at liberty to ask. Although I have already explained in faultless rhetoric.
JILL There is one little flaw—I wasn’t listening.
JACK (to the YOUNG MAN) See? See what I mean? (to JILL, with a note of self-pity) You never pay any attention to me.
JILL That, Jack Peterkin, is because you never speak in an organized way.
JACK You want an outline? I will repeat, Miss Worthy, in spite of that siren, in spite of that and everything else, that bastard didn’t budge! It didn’t even ruffle his feathers. He just sat there, and he is sitting there now. Just sitting and looking . . .
JILL Who is just sitting and looking?
(JACK glances again at the Courthouse. He shudders and produces his bottle and takes a drink.)
JACK He is!
JILL Where is he sitting?
JACK Smack on top of the Courthouse Clock.
JILL Is it anyone we know?
JACK You never believe me—just because I am not living up to my potential. I am not pulling my oar. I am not carrying my own weight. I am not putting my nose to the wheel and my shoulder to the grindstone. In short, I am a bum. I admit it fully and openly and categorically and most emphatically without pride, dismay or hesitation. . . .
YOUNG MAN Man! You said a mouthful.
JACK Sir, I am not addressing these remarks to you.
YOUNG MAN (belligerent) Oh, yeah? Well, I’m talking to you, old buddy.
JACK In a strictly chronological sense I am not old. Nor am I, to the best of my somewhat cloudy recollection, a buddy of yours.
JILL Jack?
JACK Huh?
JILL Whom did you see sitting on top of the Courthouse Clock?
JACK I didn’t say that. I didn’t say I saw some body .
JILL What was it that you saw, then?
JACK See! Let’s be accurate, please. Do see! The son of a bitch is still up there.
YOUNG MAN (laughing) I know! A very large pink elephant!
JACK Wrong! You have missed the mark, sir. As a matter of fact, it happens to be a bird.
JILL What kind of a bird?
YOUNG MAN A dodo bird! A red, white, and blue dodo bird!
JACK (to JILL) Come up here and see for yourself.
JILL I’m trying to finish my lunch before I have to go back to the library. But suppose you describe the bird and I’ll see if I can guess what it is.
JACK You won’t have any trouble.
YOUNG MAN I won’t have any trouble either. Back home I’m the acting secretary of the Early Bird Watcher’s Society.
JACK How nice for the birds!
YOUNG MAN Go ahead and describe the bird. Let’s see which one of us can guess it first.
JACK Why are you so competitive?
YOUNG MAN What’s wrong with competition?
JACK You don’t know?
YOUNG MAN Say, what are you—some kind of subversive or something? What are you against?
JACK (taking another drink) At the moment? Sobriety.
YOUNG MAN I’m trying to be serious.
JACK Well, I’m not. I spend most of my waking hours trying my damnedest not to be serious.
JILL Jack, will you please stop talking and simply describe the bird.
JACK Okay . . . . . . . . . It’s a big one . . . . . . a very large bird . . .
YOUNG MAN Is it an eagle?
JACK No, sir! It’s a very large bird. It is a very large, very black . . .
JILL A swan? A black swan?
JACK A very large, very black, very ugly bird. With a big, long, skinny, naked-looking neck . . .
YOUNG MAN No!
JACK Yes!
JILL That couldn’t be a swan.
YOUNG MAN But they never roost in towns.
JACK Look for yourself, damn it!
(Very slowly the YOUNG MAN turns around to take a good look. He reacts by quickly slumping down on the bench, loosening his tie and mopping his brow with a handkerchief.)
JACK You want a drink?
YOUNG MAN (grabbing the bottle) Don’t mind if I do.
JILL Well, I give up. What is it?
YOUNG MAN I’m afraid he was telling the truth, ma’am.
JILL And the truth is?
YOUNG MAN The truth is that there is a very large, very black, very ugly-looking old buzzard sitting right up there on top of the clock.
JILL A buzzard? Are you drunk, too?
YOUNG MAN No, ma’am, not yet. But I’m getting there.
JACK Hey! Take it easy on that bottle.
YOUNG MAN How long has he been up there?
JACK Since early morning. I didn’t pay much attention at first. Frankly, there are times, especially first thing in the morning, when I don’t feel I should give full credence to the reports of my sensory apparatus.
YOUNG MAN And when the clock struck twelve, he didn’t even move?
JACK Nope.
YOUNG MAN The bastard didn’t even budge?
JACK Didn’t even budge.
JILL (to JACK) You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
YOUNG MAN I don’t think she believes us.
(The YOUNG MAN crosses quickly to the bench where PAT and MIKE are still playing checkers . . .)
Hey?
PAT Yep?
YOUNG MAN Look!
(They turn slowly to look where he is pointing)
YOUNG MAN Do you see what I see? Do you see a bird sitting on top of the Courthouse?
PAT Yep.
YOUNG MAN What kind of a bird does it look like?
MIKE Looks kinda like a buzzard to me. What do you say, Pat?
(PAT produces some glasses and puts them on for a better look.)
PAT Yep. It’s a buzzard all right.
YOUNG MAN Don’t you think that’s a little bit strange?
MIKE Strange?
YOUNG MAN Yeah, strange. Odd, unusual, curious, crazy, weird. Have either one of you ever seen a buzzard up there before?
PAT Now that you mention it, can’t say as I have. How ’bout you, Mike?
MIKE You know, I can’t recall ever seeing a buzzard up there either.
PAT Well, like the fella says, there’s gotta be a first time for everything.
MIKE Sonny, you see all kinds of unusual things nowadays.
(They return to the checker game.)
JACK Look! There’s another one! There’s two of them now!
(The YOUNG MAN takes one more look. Takes the bottle from JACK for one last drink, grabs his attaché case and closes it.)
YOUNG MAN (giving JACK his apple) Here, you take it. I don’t feel hungry any more. (to JILL) Pleasure to have known you, ma’am.
JACK Where are you going?
YOUNG MAN Home! I’m a stranger here, remember? I’m just a traveling salesman and I don’t have to stay here, thank God!
(With one last look at the birds, and a shudder, he is gone.)
(JACK sits down on the bench beside JILL. He smiles and wiggles his toes.)
JILL Well, I hope you’re satisfied!
JACK I didn’t do anything. Will you just go up there and see for yourself and admit for once that I’m right?
JILL (rising, carefully depositing her trash in the trash can) I simply do not care if you are right or wrong.
JACK Never mind about me. You do care, don’t you, if there are two—no! there’s three of them now!—three buzzards sitting up there.
JILL If there are any up there, I don’t want to know about it. As far as I am concerned, they simply do not exist. Just like you! Goodbye!
(She exits quickly, very angry.)
JACK (hesitating, then following after her) Wait just a big minute! (shouting) You think you can close your eyes and pretend things don’t exist?
(But she has gone. He shrugs and then exits, performing his duty as trash man.)
PAT (looking up from the checker game to the Courthouse) How many do you count now, Mike? How many do you count up there?
MIKE ’Bout a half a dozen. Course I wouldn’t swear to it. My eyes ain’t what they used to be.
PAT What do you make of it?
MIKE Nothing . . . How about you?
PAT Well, I’ll tell you the way I figure it.
MIKE How’s that?
PAT There’s gotta be a reason.
MIKE Got to be a reason for everything.
PAT The question I ask myself is what are they after? What do they want?
MIKE You got a point there.
PAT Those buzzards are sitting up there looking right down at . . . us . . .
MIKE You don’t think . . . ?
PAT Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I do think. They’re just sitting there waiting to see which one of the two of us dies first.
MIKE What do you mean—us? If they are waiting on me, they might as well give up and go home.
PAT That’s what you think.
MIKE How’s that?
PAT Remember old Happy Ferguson?
MIKE Sure I do.
PAT Now, he was what you’d call a healthy old man. Hale and hearty; lively, wouldn’t you say?
MIKE (cautious) I’d say so.
PAT He ate what he pleased and ran around doing what he felt like and everybody said he was going to live to be a hundred. Right up to the day he just fell over dead in front of the Luxuria Beauty Parlor. He stopped one minute to wink at the manicurist. Looked in the window and winked at her.
MIKE Happy Ferguson had a way with the ladies.
PAT And, the next thing you know, he was dead as a mackerel.
MIKE Well, it don’t worry me. I’ll be here long after you’ve gone.
PAT The hell you will!
MIKE I plan to attend your funeral.
PAT You won’t be here to attend my funeral.
MIKE Oh, I’ll be there all right. You want to know why? Because I take care of myself. I never get excited.
PAT Who’s excited?
MIKE I never lose my temper!
PAT I don’t lose my temper either!
MIKE And I promise you, you’ll have a real first class funeral.
PAT Your move, Mike . . .
(They bend over the checker board again.)
CURTAIN
The Park—Night
(A crowd gathered. They stand silently facing a small podium. All the people from Scene 1—except the TRAVELING SALESMAN—are there. Plus the BANKER, the PREACHER, and a young stranger with a pocket notebook—a NEWSPAPER MAN. Also the CHIEF OF POLICE. The PREACHER, the BANKER, and the CHIEF OF POLICE are like figures out of an animated cartoon. The PREACHER wears a black, full-length cassock and carries a large Bible. The BANKER is in striped pants, frock coat, homburg hat, and carries a brief case. The CHIEF OF POLICE is as resplendent as a Field Marshall in full dress.)
(After a moment the MAYOR enters, nodding and smiling, and mounts the small podium. He is folksy, with a broad brimmed Stetson hat, a string tie, etc.)
MAYOR Good evening, everybody. I guess all of you know why we had to call this meeting tonight. I’m sure everybody will agree it’s just a whole lot easier to conduct this particular bit of business in the dark, so to speak . . . I think we can safely assume that they’re all sound asleep now . . . Or, even if they aren’t asleep, they probably can’t see us . . . Or, if you have to take the most pessimistic view of the situation, let’s say they aren’t asleep and they can see us—well, at least the main thing is we can’t see them . Right?
VOICES FROM THE CROWD That’s a blessing! Amen! What are we going to do about it? Yeah, what are we going to do?
MAYOR Now then, now then, everybody. Let’s try and keep our heads . . .
VOICE With those ugly things just sitting up there?
MAYOR Let us try to conduct ourselves in a decent, civilized manner. I hereby call this meeting to order. First things first. The first thing we have to do is agree on the facts . . . Now, the fact is that a few days ago those birds, for reasons of their own, settled down here in Garden Spot. Since then, more and more of them have shown up. I think it is safe to state that there has been a steady and continuous growth in our—buzzard population. Chief of Police, what is the latest official count?
CHIEF Your Honor, distinguished dignitaries, ladies, and gentlemen. As of sunset, which occurred officially at 6:43 P.M. tonight, we had counted approximately 323 buzzards in the area of Garden Spot proper.
MAYOR Where are they presently located?
CHIEF Well, your Honor, so far they have been sticking pretty close to the center of town. What you might call the main body is at present situated up there on top of the Courthouse. There are smaller groups on top of the Bank and City Hall and the County Jail. Just before sundown, a couple of new ones flew into town and lit on the Church steeple.
PREACHER I deny that allegation! . . . They wouldn’t dare . . . I haven’t seen any yet.
CHIEF I’m sorry, Reverend, real sorry. But me and my men actually seen them light there.
MAYOR Chief, have you and your men been carefully observing their activities?
CHIEF That’s what you told us to do and we done it, your Honor.
MAYOR Would you venture a generalization upon the nature of the activities you have observed?
CHIEF Sir?
MAYOR What the hell are they up to, man?
CHIEF Oh, nothing much. Mostly, they just sit there and look at us.
MAYOR Thank you, Chief. And now that we are all agreed on the basic facts . . .
CLUBWOMAN Your Honor!
MAYOR . . . we can proceed to . . .
CLUBWOMAN Your Honor!
MAYOR Huh?
CLUBWOMAN I’m not.
MAYOR What’s that?
CLUBWOMAN I’m not agreed.
MAYOR The chair recognizes Miss Mabel. What seems to be the problem?
CLUBWOMAN We still have to determine what they are.
MAYOR Why, honey, they’re just buzzards, aren’t they?
CLUBWOMAN Not exactly . . .
VOICES What’s that? Not buzzards? What are they?
MAYOR Well now, what are they—exactly, Miss Mabel?
CLUBWOMAN If someone will be kind enough to hold a light for me . . .
(The POLICEMAN comes forward and holds a light for her. CLUBWOMAN opens a dictionary.)
Let me quote to you directly from the dictionary. The Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, to be accurate: “Buzzard, spelled B-U-Z-Z-A-R-D, pronounced Buzz -ard. Old French Busard , French Buison (whence come the French Buse). Latin Buteo . One: Any of numerous heavy, slow-flying hawks ( Buteo and other allied genera). Two: Any of various other birds of prey, especially the Turkey Buzzard. See Turkey Buzzard. Now, you will have to admit that is a very broad and general definition . . .
VOICES Sit down! Shut up! Who cares?
CLUBWOMAN If you will just allow me to . . .
MAYOR Thank you very much, but I don’t believe that will be necessary. Time is pressing, so if you will just tell us briefly what you are driving at . . .
CLUBWOMAN I just want it clearly established right at the outset that strictly speaking the creatures in question are not buzzards.
MAYOR Well, if they aren’t buzzards, what the hell are they?
CLUBWOMAN Permit me . . . Would you please hold that light for me again?
(Again the POLICEMAN holds the flashlight for her. Again she reads from the dictionary.)
The bird in question is more properly defined as follows: “Any of certain large raptorial birds of the temperate and tropical regions, allied to hawks, eagles and falcons, but having weaker claws, and the head is usually . . . uh . . . naked. They subsist chiefly on carrion.” (She slams her dictionary shut for emphasis.) Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen, the birds we are dealing with, the birds we are discussing tonight are, strictly speaking, vultures!
MIKE I say they’re buzzards and the hell with them!
VOICES Right! Yeah! That’s the ticket! Down in front!
MAYOR Quiet! Quiet please! Miss Mabel here has been trying to make a point. An interesting point, a valid point, a viable point. After all, we’ve gotta agree on what they are before we can get down to any concrete thinking.
MABEL They are vultures.
MAYOR Yes, ma’am, I’m sure. Well, whatever they are, we have to agree on what to call them.
CLUBWOMAN Throughout the entire English-speaking world they are called vultures.
MAYOR Miss Mabel, you are a real nice lady. And I don’t want you to think for one minute we don’t appreciate your point of view.
VOICES Put it to a vote! Yeah! Let’s vote on it.
MAYOR Do I hear a motion?
PAT I move we vote.
MAYOR Second?
MIKE Second.
MAYOR All right! All those in favor of calling the said birds in question buzzards, signify by saying aye!
VOICES Aye!
MAYOR Opposed?
CLUBWOMAN No! Jill Worthy, how can you stand by and allow another woman to be voted down anonymously.
JILL You mean unanimously.
CLUBWOMAN That’s right—anonymously.
MAYOR Very well, the ayes have it. Be it therefore known that hereinafter and evermore, in the precincts of Garden Spot, that said birds will be officially known as buzzards.
CLUBWOMAN But they aren’t buzzards.
MAYOR Now look here, Miss Mabel. This is a democratic country. Be a good loser. Now then, I take it that we are all . . .
PREACHER Brothers and Sisters, I take this strange and sudden visitation for a Sign. A Sign of all the hidden sinfulness here in Garden Spot. Now, we all know that the wages of sin is death!
BANKER Amen! You can say that again, Reverend. Spiritually speaking. But let me tell you, as the President of the Bank, that the only kind of wages I am worried about at the moment, is cash wages. Cold, hard cash. If the word about this ever gets around . . .
VOICE What are we going to do about it?
JACK Let’s all get drunk and forget about it!
PREACHER Kneel! Kneel and pray!
MAYOR Thank you for the suggestion, Reverend. And, believe me, we may just try a little praying if nothing else works. Meanwhile, the floor is open to suggestions.
JILL I have a suggestion. I suggest that we ignore them. After a while, if they see that we don’t care about them one way or the other, maybe they will just fly away.
BANKER True, Miss Worthy. Very true. But once again I would like to point out a few hard, cold pertinent facts from the world of commerce. This town stands or falls on business and trade. If we wait around and meanwhile the news gets out that we have a . . . that we have a kind of a . . .
PREACHER Plague! A Plague upon us like the Plagues of Egypt!
BANKER Damn it, Reverend, it ain’t reached plague proportions yet. It’s a problem.
PREACHER It’s a plague!
BANKER Ladies and gentlemen, let me assure you on the basis of my not inconsiderable experience in the business world, that business is inevitably going to suffer. And, if business suffers, then the whole town will suffer. Before you can say Karl Marx, Garden Spot will be a ghost town.
JACK It would be different if it was just pigeons or something. I mean, pigeons, all they do is fly around and shit all over everything.
WOMEN Please!
VOICES Shut up!
JACK What’s the matter with all you people? What have you got against pigeons?
BANKER Act now! Strike while the iron is hot!
CLUBWOMAN Whatever we do, let’s do it anonymously!
PREACHER Let us all gather at the church and pray together!
MAYOR I understand that, Reverend, but me, I always try to look at the sunny side of things if I can. We don’t have any evidence yet that these birds are against us. This might even turn out to be a friendly visit.
VOICES Who needs them? Who wants them? Get those birds out of here!
MAYOR Another thing. Please sit down. While they are here—and I want you to know I don’t feel any better about this thing than the rest of you—but, as I say, as long as they are here, maybe something good will come out of it. Who knows? They might simplify the whole problem of garbage disposal. And if it works out that way, why the next thing we might even have a tax reduction or refund or something . . .
VOICES Hurray!
(LADY FROM SCHOOLBOARD waving papers aggressively)
LADY Your honor! I want to register a serious complaint on behalf of the schoolboard.
MAYOR Now wait just a minute! Before you say a word, I just want to remind you that education-wise we run a clean town. If you’re talking about the textbooks again . . .
BANKER We don’t allow a book of any shape, kind or color in the Bank!
PREACHER We have completely revised the Bible. All the offensive passages have been expurgated!
CLUBWOMAN (reacting to “expurgated”) You mean “extirpated.” Reverend, please. I am proud to report that the last meeting of The Golden Penwomen of Garden Spot we publicly burned a copy of that awful book that all the young people are reading.
MAYOR What book is that, Mabel?
CLUBWOMAN You know the one I mean—THE RAPTURE IN THE RYE.
LADY I’m not complaining about books this time. I simply want to report the undeniable fact that there are already buzzards roosting on the Schoolhouse. We must not let the youth of our town suffer from P.B.E.
(Crowd reacts)
MAYOR P.B.E?
LADY Premature Buzzard Exposure.
CLUBWOMAN The very least we can do for our young people is to make sure that they suffer posthumously.
BANKER She means vicariously.
LADY We expect action! I don’t have to remind you, do I, that there’s an election coming up one of these days?
MAYOR No, ma’am. You don’t have to remind me. And that’s a fact.
CHIEF OF POLICE Your honor! I think I’ve got an idea. That is, if we still want to get rid of them.
MAYOR Of course we do. That’s the first order of business.
CHIEF Well sir, I think maybe we could scare them out of town. I was thinking if we could get all the bells ringing at one time and all the cars horns tooting, and the radios and record players going . . . if we could shoot guns in the air and the ladies would beat on pots and pans . . . if we could fire off the old cannon in front of the Armory . . . if everybody in town will get together and make as much noise as humanly possible . . .
MAYOR Chief, that’s a wonderful idea.
BANKER We’ll try it.
PREACHER Praise the Lord!
MAYOR Yes, sir, we’ll give her a try right after this meeting. I’m glad I thought of that.
NEWSPAPER MAN Mr. Mayor! Mr. Mayor! One moment please!
(All turn to him, suddenly aware of a stranger in their midst.)
MAYOR Yes, what is it?
NEWSPAPER MAN If you don’t mind taking a word of advice from a stranger.
MAYOR Speak up, young fella.
NEWSPAPER MAN Well, it’s this way. From my point of view, it kind of looks like you are going at the thing ass backwards.
CLUBWOMAN Please!
MAYOR From your point of view? Just what is your point of view, young fella?
NEWSPAPER MAN Well, I’m a newspaper reporter, your honor. I . . .
BANKER A newspaper reporter? Oh my God!
VOICES Get him! Catch him! Hang him! Quick, don’t let him get away!
(Exit the REPORTER at a dead run, pursued by all except JACK and JILL. JACK has settled down at the base of the statue for a snooze. JILL, thinking herself all alone, sits down on a park bench and begins to sob)
JACK What’s the matter with you?
JILL Nothing.
JACK Well, why don’t you just shut up then?
(JILL begins to cry louder than ever.)
Something has got to be the matter. (he turns to buzzards) Friends, allow me to extend my sincere apologies for the way my fellow creatures just behaved. I’m afraid they don’t understand you.
JILL Jack, who in the world are you talking to?
JACK (confidential) The birds.
JILL Isn’t that typical? Here the whole town is nervous—the whole town is scared to death—everything is a complete mess—everybody is going crazy. And you decide it’s a fine time to talk to the birds.
JACK Have you condescended to look at them yet?
JILL They are rather hard to avoid seeing.
JACK Have you seen them yet?
JILL This afternoon, I just happened to glance out of the Library window. All I wanted to do was to check my watch against the Courthouse Clock . . .
JACK And there they were. There they were!
JILL You don’t have to act so happy about it.
JACK I am happy. Charmed and delighted! Those birds is the best thing that’s happened around here since Miss Mary Beth Birdsong ran off with a traveling circus.
JILL That whole episode was tragic. She ended up being shot out of a cannon every night. It made her a very nervous woman, poor thing.
JACK They really are kind of special. They have character. Look, there’s a fine old fellow. Enormous natural dignity. There’s a pompous fool. Thinks he’s too good for the rest of them. Part eagle or something. There’s a shy one. Doesn’t know what he’s doing here. Just followed the crowd. And, look! There’s a little baby one. Kitchy, kitchy, koo . . . (to JILL) Oh, Jill, you’re really missing something.
JILL There are a great many unpleasant things in life.
JACK But if the Preacher says they’re a plague, and the Banker says they’re a problem, you can’t ignore them completely.
JILL I just think people should tend to their own business.
JACK (a parody of a hardworking cleanup man) By all means. Business before pleasure.
JILL Just look at you!
JACK Aside from the fact that there may be some room for minor improvement, what’s wrong with me?
JILL You’re a disgrace, that’s all. A public disgrace! Oh, Jack, you used to have such promise.
JACK Once upon a time, when we were all in school together, they elected me the most likely to succeed. I’m simply trying to prove how wrong they were.
JILL You certainly have proved your point admirably.
JACK What do you care?
JILL I did care once, very much, and you know it. Before you threw up a good job and everything else and settled for—this!
JACK What about you? Is it so wonderful, is it so satisfying to be a nice, respectable small town Librarian?
JILL It’s . . . it’s enough.
JACK Very well, now that we have disposed of our little problem, tell me, Miss Worthy, what do you make of all this other excitement?
JILL Why should I want to make anything out of it?
JACK Everybody else is. The Preacher says it’s a Plague. And the Banker says it’s a Problem.
JILL They are upset. When people get upset they are not reasonable. They do and say silly things.
JACK And you never get upset, do you?
JILL I try not to. A disciplined life is a happy life.
JACK Are you happy?
JILL I am trying to be emotionally mature about . . .
(They kiss. When they break, JACK can’t resist the temptation to joke.)
JACK Thank you, Miss Worthy, for that little demonstration of emotional maturity.
JILL (furious) You are always making fun of me. I never want to see you again!
(NEWSPAPER MAN enters)
NEWSPAPER MAN Nice little town you’ve got here. Yes, sir, a real nice friendly little old town.
JILL Oh! What did they do to you?
NEWSPAPER MAN They were going to hang me. But I managed to convince them that it’s bad publicity to lynch a newspaper man. So they just tarred and feathered me instead.
JILL I’m so sorry. Please try to understand. Everybody is terribly upset by all this.
NEWSPAPER MAN So am I. But I want you to know I’m going to be big about it. I am not going to be bitter.
JACK (sarcastic) That’s the spirit!
(a bugle call offstage)
NEWSPAPER MAN What’s that?
(a loud explosion)
JACK The cannon!
(a gradual accumulation of noises)
NEWSPAPER MAN Here we go!
JACK From now on it’s going to be real simple. It’s us or the birds.
(The siren comes on. Now they have to shout to be heard.)
NEWSPAPER MAN You know what?
JACK What?
NEWSPAPER MAN I’m betting on the birds.
(The noise reaches a peak)
CURTAIN
(The Park as before. Spaced around the stage are four principal figures—the MAYOR, the BANKER, the PREACHER, and the CLUBWOMAN. The CLUBWOMAN should be so placed that she can make a costume change. Perhaps near the statue of the GENERAL. As one speaks, the light is on him alone. Transitions from speakers are accomplished by means of lights. The rather swift moral disintegration of the community should be indicated visually by a gradual dishevelment of all four characters.)
MAYOR Ladies and Gentlemen, I am sorry to have to report to you that the plan suggested by the Chief of Police didn’t work out too well. The Chief, in an excess of public zeal, in a desire to make a real big noise, a memorable bang so to speak, over-charged the cannon. When it went off, it went up. And unfortunately he went up with it. (solemnly, removing his hat): Now he has gone to the place where the good Chiefs of Police go. A place where, let us hope, there will be no more birds to trouble him. Rest in peace. And silence. . . . So much for the Chief of Police. Meanwhile those birds are still up there. And we are now entering into a difficult period in our lives, a time of “agonizing reappraisal” where we . . .
PREACHER Brothers and Sisters, I stand before you this morning with a heavy heart. Our town, our pretty little town with its wide streets and shady lawns, its smiling people and contented pets, Brothers and Sisters, our town is suffering under the dark shadow of a curse. I take these birds . . . . . so naturally associated in our minds with death, decay, corruption and so forth and so on—I take them to be the outward visible sign of the curse. Brothers and Sisters, these birds have been sent here to remind us, to warn us, to awaken us. So that we may repent and be ready. And in that sense our curse may be a blessing in disguise.
BANKER Listen, I’ll tell you what I think. Those birds have already had a serious effect on the local economy. Business is practically at a standstill. The plain, unadorned truth of the matter is people just don’t like having to come downtown and conduct their daily affairs with buzzards watching them all the time. And a man can’t do a whole lot of business in the pitch dark, at least not banking business. Some people are already packing up their stuff and taking their families and moving away. Now, you want to call them rats—rats leaving the sinking ship. But let me tell you I don’t blame them a bit, not even a little bit. If we don’t take firm, practical steps to deal with the situation, this town is going to dry up and die on the vine. I propose that a survey be run . . .
CLUBWOMAN Before we begin the session today, I have an important announcement to make. The committee on gardens and the committee on the Better Homes Tour met in special session yesterday at Katie Eversoe’s house—and, by the way, weight-watchers, Katie served a delightful, up to date refreshment, Metrical and vanilla ice cream; she calls it “The Plump Girl’s Surprise”—anyway the two committees met and decided that under the present circumstances it would be unseemly to go ahead with our regular plans. So we are going to have to postpone the annual Magnolia Meander. I’m sure you’ll all agree that with conditions the way they are the Clubwomen of Garden Spot have more important things to do. Think of our pioneer ancestors. Now then, it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you our guest speaker for today, Professor Elwood P. Funk, PhD, the distinguished bird watcher, who will address us on the subject “Know Your Enemy—For What It’s Worth.” Professor Funk . . .
MAYOR . . . Personally I don’t have anything against buzzards. I feel the same way about animals as I do about people. Even though animals don’t have the vote yet. (ha ha) My philosophy is I try and get along with all kinds. I always try and consider the other fellow’s point of view. Now, I’m sure there is some reason why all these birds have come here. Maybe they like it in Garden Spot. So do I. So do I! I only wish we knew what that reason was. And I wish we had some way to get our point of view over to them. If there just weren’t so damn many of them! What I mean is, we could probably assimilate a few of them into the community without any noticeable effect on the general. . . .
PREACHER The text this morning refers to the angel of death. Notice that the angel of death is dark; he isn’t white, he isn’t tan or pink or anything else. He’s dark. Now, as we all know, dark is what night is. Dark is what hell is. But I say unto you, fear not. Look them straight in the eye. Hold up your heads and lift up your hearts. And I say take heed, lest some of you be tempted to fall down on your knees and worship them. That is idolatry. I have heard rumors that some members of this congregation . . .
BANKER I have the information from a very reliable source. And I am convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that this strange visitation is not an accident. It is part of the vast monolithic Communist Conspiracy. They are just testing it out on us here in Garden Spot. If it works here, who knows what will happen? We may live to see the day when swarms of buzzards will be roosting on top of all the great public buildings of New York City, Chicago, Detroit, San Fransisco, Seattle, Los Angeles, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, Miami Beach and Washington, D.C.! The whole economy of the nation will come to a screeching halt. The Capitalistic System of Free Enterprise will be the laughing stock of the whole world. We must hold our ground. We must fight and win the battle here and now in Garden Spot or . . .
CLUBWOMAN (now in black, like a widow) Girls, it has been proposed that the best thing we can do to help the situation is to make some kind of public demonstration. To show that we, the amalgamated Clubwomen of Greater Garden Spot, are solidly, one hundred percent behind the Mayor’s policy—whatever it may be. Lucy Fry has come up with what I think is a simply marvelous idea. Beginning tomorrow we will all wear black until further notice. May I suggest Ye Olde Spinning Wheel has some very nice creations in all sizes . . .
MAYOR I don’t say we haven’t had our problems. We have called on the F.B.I.
(Enter F.B.I. AGENT wearing trenchcoat, snapbrim hat, with magnifying glass.)
F.B.I. AGENT You got a problem here all right. The whole thing is, it’s kind of out of our jurisdiction. I mean, if you could prove that the birds came across a state line or something . . . I’d like to help you. If it would be any use, we could run a picture of a buzzard in the Post Office.
(He exits. These characters enter and exit quickly, crossing the stage.)
MAYOR We called on the Army.
(A GENERAL enters. Comes to stage and center and salutes the audience. Comes to “Parade Rest.”)
GENERAL Re: your request for aid and comfort, filled out on a Form 1094631-C in triplicate and passed through proper channels, has come to my attention this date at 0945 hours. Whereas, it would appear that some exercise or show of force may be necessary to alleviate your position, I am instructed that under circumstances which may possibly have socio-political complications, all action falls under the provenance of the Department of State, or Interior, or Health and Welfare, or one of those other Goddamn civilian offices. Bearing all this in mind, I have forwarded your request through channels, to the Library of Congress. P.S. Next time, try the Air Force. Birds are more like their responsibility the way I look at it.
(He comes to attention, salutes and marches off stage.)
MAYOR We even went to the top of the intellectual heap—we called for psychiatric help.
(Enter the PSYCHIATRIST. Speaks with German accent and is a caricature of the comic psychiatrist and the absent-minded professor. He wanders in vaguely, smiling at the audience. A painful pause.)
MAYOR Professor. Professor!
PSYCHIATRIST Oh, yeah, that’s me! Yes, what is it?
MAYOR Have you reached any conclusion?
PSYCHIATRIST Conclusion?
MAYOR About our problem.
PSYCHIATRIST Problem? What problem?
MAYOR The buzzards!
PSYCHIATRIST Oh yes, the buzzards. (fumbles through papers) Buzzards, buzzards, B, B, B . . . here we are . . . (reads) “This syndrome, being based primarily on pseudo-socio—economic and anal-erotic mass and halfmass delusions, is not unknown historically though it is relatively rare in recent times. Group or mass syndromes of this nature, no doubt primarily paranoiac in origin, appear to have been commonplace during the so-called Dark Ages. According to Rabunus Marus . . .”
MAYOR Professor!
PSYCHIATRIST (smiling) I’ll skip the next part. It’s in Latin. “Furthermore in the remote fringes of the Fiji Islands, it is reliably reported by an early traveler that . . .”
MAYOR PROFESSOR!
PSYCHIATRIST You’re interrupting.
MAYOR I’m sorry, but time is of the essence.
PSYCHIATRIST It’s very rude to interrupt someone like that.
MAYOR We are paying you fifty dollars an hour and all you can talk about is Fiji Islanders!
PSYCHIATRIST You’re a sick man. You need help.
MAYOR Then help us, Goddamn it! Tell us what we can do. Tell us what’s wrong.
PSYCHIATRIST You want to know what’s wrong?
MAYOR Yes.
PSYCHIATRIST You want it straight?
MAYOR Straight and simple, please.
PSYCHIATRIST Well, ordinarily, my individual best judgment would be you people got a condition like bats in the belfry. But that won’t apply in this case. I mean bats is one thing and buzzards is another. The way I see it, and this is my personal prognostication right off the top of my head: you got buzzards on the courthouse! (laughs)
MAYOR GET OUT!
(The PSYCHIATRIST runs off stage.)
I keep thinking maybe it’s all some kind of a great big practical joke. I can take a joke. Everybody knows I can take a joke as well as the next guy. But what I can’t figure out is who would want to pull one like this on me . . . ?
PREACHER (in prayer) . . . O Dark Strangers, we beseech you to open our eyes to the meaning of your truth. Fill out hearts with your continual and brooding presence. Teach us to fly high and soar into . . .
BANKER You know what I call it? CREEPING VULTURISM! That’s what I call it . . .
CLUBWOMAN And I say if Lady Godiva could do it, so can we!
(She rapidly begins to undress.)
BRIEF BLACKOUT
(The Three Confidence Men and the girl in the harem costume enter quickly and look around. One is dressed as a classic BUM, with a bundle tied in a bandana on a stick. The second is dressed in a long robe and wears a turban and is accompanied by the girl in the belly-dance harem costume. The third is a TRAVELING SALESMAN with a sample case.)
BUM Hey, this must be the place.
MAYOR Who are you?
(The MAYOR, BANKER and PREACHER come to meet them)
BUM We heard you got—like a problem.
ENTERTAINER I read about it.
BANKER In the papers?
ENTERTAINER (supercilious) In the stars.
SALESMAN We’re here to help you.
BUM You’ve been going at it like all wrong.
ENTERTAINER You can never get rid of a bunch of buzzards that way.
SALESMAN What you need is experts, specialists.
MAYOR Are you people buzzard-removal experts?
BUM Man, I wouldn’t know about these guys. I mean, like we just happened to meet up the way here.
ENTERTAINER I come to you with a wealth of experience.
SALESMAN I run into tougher deals than this all the time . . .
PREACHER What is it you propose to do?
BUM If you really want to get rid of them birds.
ENTERTAINER He means if you care enough.
SALESMAN What they both are trying to say is that for an adequate renumeration . . .
BANKER Fifty Thousand in cash if you can just get them to go away.
BUM Like—uh—permanently?
ENTERTAINER He means to say that it may be possible to get them to leave town, but we can hardly guarantee they won’t come back.
SALESMAN Unless, maybe, you were willing to make a guarantee . . .
BANKER Fifty Thousand in cold cash plus a regular retainer on a permanent annual buzzard removal contract.
BUM I understand the man.
ENTERTAINER He rather interests me.
SALESMAN Buddy, you’ve got yourself a deal.
ENTERTAINER We will draw for high card to see who goes first. (to PREACHER): Here, you hold the cards.
PREACHER Ordinarily, I don’t approve of gambling. But, under the circumstances . . .
(The three men draw and the ENTERTAINER wins.)
ENTERTAINER Ah-ha! Gentlemen, consider yourselves lucky. Your problem is practically a thing of the past.
MAYOR What are you going to do?
ENTERTAINER Get rid of the birds—what else?
BANKER How?
ENTERTAINER Easy . . . I’m a magician.
PREACHER But magic is superstitious!
ENTERTAINER You see how you feel after I’ve made those buzzards vanish forever.
BANKER It’s worth a try. We’ve got nothing to lose.
ENTERTAINER That’s right. Nothing to lose (aside)—except your shirt. Darlene, the watch, please.
(Darlene reaches in her bra and produces a large pocket watch on a chain. He takes it and holds it up by the chain.)
PREACHER What’s she going to do?
ENTERTAINER Nothing. She’s just decoration.
(JACK enters with his stick and trach bag. He concentrates on the girl during all of this.)
Now, gentlemen, I want you to look closely at this watch and concentrate with me. Think of the great, empty, windblown spaces of the North Pole. Now think of a lovely lake, picture it, a lovely lake as smooth as a mirror, without even the ghost of a breeze. All smooth and shining and clear like a mirror . . . Now you are looking into the mirror and nothing is reflected there. Nothing, nothing, nothing at all . . . You look up-up-up into the sky and the sky is like the lake. It is an empty, blue, cloudless sky, a sky as wide as a prairie, a sky as pure and cold as spring water, a sky all blue and filled with sunlight like the eyes of a beautiful girl in love. You see that beautiful sky. Can you see it? Do you see it now?
ALL (hypnotized) Yes, yes, yes!
ENTERTAINER And now if you will just walk over there and turn around and look, you will notice that all the buzzards have flown away.
MAYOR They’re gone!
PREACHER Praise the Lord! The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.
BANKER I’d call that pretty quick work for Fifty Thousand Bucks.
MAYOR Wonder where they went to?
BUM You dumb squares! (He claps his hands.) I don’t know what you’re looking at, but I see like multitudes of buzzards roosting all over the place.
ENTERTAINER I thought you guys were my buddies.
BUM Don’t take my word for it. Get a witness. (to JACK): Hey you! Come here! Are those buzzards still up there?
JACK (looking) Damn right they are!
MAYOR AND BANKER Police! Police!
ENTERTAINER (quickly) All right, so all right! I hypnotized. So what? I can’t make those buzzards fly away. Nobody can. But at least I fixed it up so you wouldn’t have to see them any more. It’s an illusion, I’ll grant you that. So, what isn’t an illusion?
(A POLICEMAN enters and quickly collars the ENTERTAINER and the HAREM GIRL. Throughout all this, the HAREM GIRL has been exchanging shy and sly glances with JACK. When she is led away, she blows him a kiss and for the first time smiles brightly.)
ENTERTAINER (continuing under duress) Life is an illusion, gentlemen! I ask you, wasn’t that a wonderful moment when you looked up there and there wasn’t one single buzzard on the whole horizon? Wasn’t that worth something?
POLICEMAN (shoving him) It’s worth about ninety days in the County Jailhouse, buddy.
ENTERTAINER (waving the watch as he is pushed off stage) Officer, officer, officer, I want you to start concentrating on wide open spaces, the prairie, the Sahara desert . . .
(They exit.)
BANKER Well, if that’s the best kind of service you montebanks have to offer . . .
BUM Montebanks? Sir, I’ll have you know I do not now nor have I ever depended on magic tricks and illusions. My methods are like strictly scientific.
(He opens his bandana and removes a pair of canvas wings and begins to strap them on his arms.)
Now then, what I plan to do is to fly up there and frighten them away. I mean, what would you do if you were a buzard and saw a man circling and soaring all around you? They are bound to realize that, as far as the birds are concerned, the jig is like up. No doubt they will depart at once. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to go over there where I can get like a good running start . . .
(He dogtrots off the stage.)
SALESMAN So long, sucker!
(All are looking in the direction he has gone.)
MAYOR Look! He’s running!
PREACHER He’s taking off!
BANKER He’s airborne!
MAYOR He’s flying!
PREACHER Praise the Lord!
BANKER (flapping his arms in sympathy) Whoopee!
SALESMAN Wh—oh . . . . .
ALL (in unison) Oh . . . . . .
SALESMAN (setting down sample case, dusting off his palms) Well, like they say, that’s show business.
MAYOR He got off the ground, anyway.
PREACHER Man should not aspire to rise beyond his natural place in creation.
BANKER The son-of-a-bitch was really flying! You’ve gotta give him credit for that!
(The BUM is carried back across the stage by two white-coated Stretcher Bearers.)
BUM Pretty good, huh? Maybe I didn’t get rid of any buzzards. But I flew. I really flew!
BANKER Young man, I like your ambition and your energy. I think—after you—uh—recuperate—we just might be able to work out something or other. I can visualize huge rolls of tickets—two bits a head.
BUM Thanks just the same.
BANKER Aren’t you even interested? I mean, you’ve got a real unusual talent there.
BUM Honest to God, that’s the first time I ever tried it. And it scared the living bejesus out of me . . .
(He is carried off by the Stretcher Bearers.)
SALESMAN Now we get down to brass tacks.
MAYOR Well now, I’m not so sure . . .
PREACHER I wash my hands of the whole affair.
BANKER What can you do?
SALESMAN (in the rapid manner and style of a pitchman or carnival barker) All right, now, gentlemen. Tell you what I’m going to do. I’m not agoing to try and sell you no illusions or hallucinations. No, sir! I’m not in the show business. I’m a business man, a thinking business man. And the thing I’ve got to offer is an idea. A brand new idea! And, naturally, along with this brand, spanking new idea comes a little proposition. What good is an idea without a practical way of using it? An idea with a means of implementing it, a way of putting it into practice, why that idea is worth the weight of this whole town in gold and jewels and precious stones! Yes, sir! Observe . . .
(He opens the sample case and takes out and proceeds to assemble a submachine gun.)
MAYOR Just what is your idea?
SALESMAN Kill the bastards!
PREACHER All of them?
SALESMAN Suit yourself on that.
BANKER What’s so special about that idea? We could have thought of that.
SALESMAN Exactly. You could have but you didn’t. I did. And that, gentlemen, is precisely what distinguishes The Great Thinker from The Common Herd. Plato! Socrates! Aristotle! P.T. Barnum! Horatio Alger! Henry Ford!
MAYOR But what would we ever do with all those dead buzzards?
SALESMAN (fast-talking pitchman again) I’m glad you asked that question. Now, I could say to you, if I was a cynical no-account kind of fellow, I could say that’s your problem, couldn’t I? But I’m not agoing to say anything like that. No, sir! You may wonder why. Well, you won’t have to wonder long because I’m going to tell you why. You’ve got a problem here. To me it’s a challenge. What’s life without challenge? I could probably go around the countryside solving problems right and left and raking in the dough. Raking it in! I could accumulate an enormous fortune. I could mingle with Rockefellers and Vanderbilts. I could rub elbows and noses with movie stars! I could be on the cover of Time magazine. But, gentlemen, fame and glory are fleeting. A man has got to grow—tall! It’s the challenge that counts! Tell you what I’m going to do. I’m not going to kill those buzzards. I am simply going to show you how it’s done. Then you can do it all by yourselves. At your own leisure and convenience. Yes, sir! You can get it over with. You can have yourselves a real old-fashioned buzzard massacre. Or, you can knock them off one at a time. Whenever you feel like it. And, if you don’t like killing, well, look at it this way: maybe you won’t have to kill but a few. Maybe the rest of them with catch on and fly away of their own free will.
SALESMAN Well, in that case, your honor, all you’ve got to do is to keep right on shooting them. Take a look at this little product I got here. This here is a really first-class buzzard exterminator. The best of modern science and modern engineering have joined together to come to grips with your problem. It’s simple. It’s effective. It does the job! And it’s easy to use. Any man, woman, or child in the community can learn to operate one of these buzzard exterminators safely and efficiently with just a little basic instruction. But, I ain’t going to talk to you about it. I’m going to prove it to you. Like it says in the Bible, a good picture is worth a hundred and fifty words. You just watch and see what happens here.
(He fires a burst)
MAYOR Stop!
PREACHER For Heaven’s Sake!
BANKER You missed!
MAYOR You hit the clock!
PREACHER The clock!
BANKER You destroyed the Courthouse Clock!
SALESMAN (faster than ever) Wait! Wait, wait just a minute, gentlemen. Don’t let’s get excited! Don’t let’s lose out heads! “If you can keep your head while all about you . . .” What’s a minute or two? What is Time? Why should all men be slaves to the clock? Now then, all I did here was to fail to compensate for the windage.
(He raises the gun again and aims.)
MAYOR Don’t let him shoot again!
PREACHER He might hit the steeple!
BANKER Or the bank!
MAYOR Police! Police!
SALESMAN Okay, okay. I’m going. I just left . . .
(He exits on a dead run. The POLICEMAN enters and pursues.)
(The three leaders of the town are thoroughly dejected.)
MAYOR Well, what do we do now?
PREACHER Pray.
BANKER We might as well. We’ve tried everything else.
MAYOR I’m thinking of forming a committee.
PREACHER I pray for the arrival of some wise stranger . . .
(The PREACHER and the BANKER exit.)
MAYOR The life of a public servant these days is strictly for the—pardon the expression—birds. Used to be kind of fun, just hanging around, slapping people on the back, shaking hands, kissing babies, cracking jokes and exchanging clichés with my colleagues. Freeloading, figuring out ways to spend tax money. Figuring out new ways to raise taxes. It beat working for a living. But now! Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind. I have bad dreams . . . Sometimes I even see things . . .
(at the four corners in a dreamlike illumination, four young ladies: a BEATNIK, an EXOTIC DANCER, a GIRL IN A BIKINI WITH A GLOWING SUNTAN, and a WITCH):
BEATNIK Daddy-O?
MAYOR Do I know you from somewhere?
BEATNIK Why don’t you just let everything go and grow a beard, baby?
EXOTIC Hello, doll. Remember me?
MAYOR Oh no! Dreama the Denver Bombshell.
EXOTIC I knew you wouldn’t forget. The State Fair of 1948.
MAYOR Listen, Dreama, you gotta be reasonable. I’ve got a wife and three kids. I have to uphold the standards of public morality. More or less. . . .
BIKINI (French accent) Come weeth me to ze Riviera, where ze sun she is always shining and ze wine if magnifique.
WITCH Did somebody mention bad dreams?
MAYOR Are you what I think you are?
WITCH That depends on what you are thinking, darling.
MAYOR What do you all want?
WITCH Nothing much . . . a thing of no importance . . . only your immortal soul.
BEATNIK Come with me and be my dad And we shall share a grubby pad . . .
BIKINI Let us develop a suntan together. Brigit Bardot, Francoise Sagan . . .
WITCH Nothing much . . . just your immortal soul.
BEATNIK Come live with me and be my dad And we shall share a grubby pad . . .
EXOTIC Remember . . . Remember . . .
WITCH I think I shall turn you into a toad . . .
BEATNIK Come with me . . .
EXOTIC I saw him first . . .
WITCH He’s all mine . . .
MAYOR No! No! No!
(Lights out on girls. MAYOR left dazed. POLICEMAN enters.)
POLICEMAN Your honor! Your honor!
MAYOR What is it?
POLICEMAN It’s the ladies, your honor, the Clubwomen . . .
MAYOR Don’t just stand there. What are they up to?
POLICEMAN Marching. They’re marching on the Courthouse.
(drums are heard)
MAYOR Well I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it. It’s a free country, isn’t it? (becoming Senatorian): The right of free assembly is a Constitutional guarantee, set down in ineffaceable language.
POLICEMAN (softly) In the nude?
MAYOR . . . and procured for us and future generations for our Founding . . . What did you say?
POLICEMAN The ladies are marching on the Courthouse without no clothes on.
MAYOR Nekkid?
POLICEMAN Buck naked, your Honor.
(The sound of women singing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” grows louder.)
MAYOR Oh my God! Call out the Fire Department! Call out the National Guard! Call out . . . ! (a slow grin) On second thought, the hell with it. Let’s just wait and see what happens next!
(“Battle Hymn of the Republic,” sung by the ladies, gets louder and louder . . . )
CURTAIN
