(FATT tries to quiet the crowd, but one of the seated men suddenly
comes to the front. The GUNMAN moves over to center stage, but FATT
says:)
(various shouts are coming from the audience. FATT insolently goes
back to his seat in the middle of the circle. He sits on his raised
platform and relights his cigar. The GUNMAN goes back to his post.
JOE, the new speaker, raises his hand for quiet. Gets it quickly.
He is sore.)
1. JOE AND EDNA The lights fade out and a white spot picks out
the playing space within the space of seated men. The seated men
are very dimly visiable in the outer dark, but more prominent is
FATT smoking his cigar and often blowing the smoke in the lighted
circle.
A tired but attractive woman of thirty comes into the room, drying
her hands on an apron. She stands there sullenly as JOE comes in
from the other side, home from work. For a moment they stand and
look at each other in silence.
JOE: Where's all the furniture, honey?
EDNA: They took it away. No installments paid.
JOE: When?
EDNA: Three o'clock.
JOE: They can't do that.
EDNA: Can't? They did it.
JOE: Why, the palookas, we paid three-quarters.
EDNA: The man said read the contract.
JOE: We must have signed a phoney...
EDNA: It's a regular contract and you signed it.
JOE: Don't be so sour, Edna... (tries to embrace her)
EDNA: Do it in the movies, Joe —-they pay Clark Gable
big money for it
JOE: This is a helluva house to come home to. Take my
word!
EDNA: Take MY word! Whose fault is it?
JOE: Must you start that stuff again?
EDNA: Maybe you'd like to talk about books?
JOE: I'd like to slap you in the mouth!
EDNA: No you won't.
JOE: (sheepishly) Jeez, Edna, you get me sore some time...
EDNA: But just look at me — I'm laughing all over!
JOE: Don't insult me. Can I help it if times are bad?
What the hell do you want me to do, jump off a bridge or something?
EDNA: Don't yell. I just put the kids to bed so they won't
know they missed a meal. If I don't have Emmy's shoes soled tomorrow,
she can't go to school. In the meantime let her sleep.
JOE: Honey, I rode the wheels off the chariot today. I
cruised around five hours without a call. It's conditions.
EDNA: Tell it to the A & P!
JOE: I booked two-twenty on the clock. A lady with a dog
was lit... she gave me a quarter tip by mistake. If you'd only
listen to me — we're rolling in wealth.
EDNA: Yeah? How much?
JOE: I had "coffee and—" in a beanery. (hands her
silver coins) A buck four.
EDNA: The second month's rent is due tomorrow.
JOE: Don't look at me that way, Edna.
EDNA: I'm looking through you, not at you... Everything
was gonna be so ducky! A cottage by the waterfall, roses in Picardy.
You're a four-star-bust! If you think I'm standing for it much
longer, you're crazy as a bedbug.
JOE: I'd get another job if I could. There's no work —
you know it.
EDNA: I only know we're at the bottom of the ocean.
JOE: What can I do?
EDNA: Who's the man in the family, you or me?
JOE: That's no answer. Get down to brass tacks. Christ,
gimme a break, too! A coffee and java all day. I'm hungry, too,
Babe. I'd work my fingers to the bone if—
EDNA: I'll open a can of salmon.
JOE: Not now. Tell me what to do!
EDNA: I'm not God!
JOE: Jeez, I wish I was a kid again and didn't have to
think about the next minute.
EDNA: But you're not a kid and you do have to think about
the next minute. You got two blondie kids sleeping in the next
room. They need food and clothes. I'm not mentioning anything
else— But we're stalled like a flivver in the snow. For five
years I laid awake at night listening to my heart pound. For God's
sake, do something, Joe, get wise. Maybe get your buddies together,
maybe go on strike for better money. Poppa did it during the war
and they won out. I'm turning into a sour old nag.
JOE: (defending himself) Strikes don't work!
EDNA: Who told you?
JOE: Besides that means not a nickel a week while we're
out. Then when it's over they don't take you back.
EDNA: Suppose they don't! What's to lose?
JOE: Well, we're averaging six-seven dollars a week now.
EDNA: That just pays for the rent.
JOE: That is something, Edna.
EDNA: It isn't. They'll push you down to three and four
a week before you know it. Then you'll say, "That's somethin',"
too!
JOE: There's too many cabs on the street, that's the whole
damn trouble.
EDNA: Let the company worry about that, you big fool!
If their cabs didn't make a profit, they'd take them off the streets.
Or maybe you think they're in business just to pay Joe Mitchell's
rent!
JOE: You don't know a-b-c, Edna.
EDNA: I know this — your boss is making suckers outta
you boys every minute. Yes, and suckers out of all the wives and
the poor innocent kids who'll grow up with crooked spines and
sick bones. Sure, I see it in the papers, how good orange juice
is for kids. But damnit our kids get cold one on top of the other.
They look like little ghosts. Betty never saw a grapefruit. I
took her to the store last week and she pointed to a stack of
grapefruits. "What's that!" she said. My God, Joe — the world
is supposed to be for all of us.
JOE: You'll wake them up.
EDNA: I don't care, as long as I can maybe wake you up.
JOE: Don't insult me. One man can't make a strike.
EDNA: Who says one? You got hundreds in your rotten union!
JOE: The union ain't rotten.
EDNA: No? Then what are they doing? Collecting dues and
patting your back?
JOE: They're making plans.
EDNA: What kind?
JOE: They don't tell us.
EDNA: It's too damn bad about you. They don't tell little
Joey what's happening in his bitsie witsie union. What do you
think is it — a ping pong game?
JOE: You know they're racketeers. The guys at the top
would shoot you for a nickel.
EDNA: Why do you stand for that stuff?
JOE: Don't you wanna see me alive?
EDNA: (after a deep pause) No... I don't think I do, Joe.
Not if you can lift a finger to do something about it, and don't.
No, I don't care.
JOE: Honey, you don't understand what—
EDNA: And any other hackie that won't fight... let them
all be ground to hamburger!
JOE: It's one thing to—
EDNA: Take your hand away! Only they don't grind me to
little pieces! I got different plans. (starts to take off her
apron)
JOE: Where are you going?
EDNA: None of your business.
JOE: What's up your sleeve?
EDNA: My arm'd be up my sleeve, darling, if I had a sleeve
to wear. (puts neatly folded apron on back of chair)
JOE: Tell me!
EDNA: Tell you what?
JOE: Where are you going?
EDNA: Don't you remember my old boy friend?
JOE: Who?
EDNA: Bud Haas. He still has my picture in his watch.
He earns a living.
JOE: What the hell are you talking about?
EDNA: I heard worse than I'm talking about.
JOE: Have you seen Bud since we got married?
EDNA: Maybe.
JOE: If I thought... (he stands looking at her)
EDNA: See much? Listen, boy friend, if you think I won't
do this it just means you can't see straight.
JOE: Stop talking bull!
EDNA: This isn't five years ago, Joe.
JOE: You mean you'd leave me and the kids?
EDNA: I'd leave YOU like a shot!
JOE: No...
EDNA: Yes!
(JOE turns away, sitting in a chair with his back to her. Outside
the lighted circle of the playing stage we hear the other seated
members of the strike committee. "She will....she will.... it happens
that way," etc. The fat boss now blows a heavy cloud of smoke into
the scene)
JOE: (finally) Well, I guess I ain't got a leg to stand
on.
EDNA: No?
JOE: (suddenly mad) No, you lousy tart, no! Get the hell
out of here. Go pick up that bull-thrower on the corner and stop
at some cushy hotel downtown. He's probably been coming here every
morning and laying you while I hacked my guts out!
EDNA: You're crawling like a worm!
JOE: You'll be crawling in a minute.
EDNA: You don't scare me that much! (indicates a half
inch on her finger)
JOE: This is what I slaved for!
EDNA: Tell it to your boss!
JOE: He don't give a damn for you or me!
EDNA: That's what I say.
JOE: Don't change the subject!
EDNA: This is the subject, the EXACT SUBJECT! Your boss
makes this subject. I never saw him in my life, but he's putting
ideas in my head a mile a minute. He's giving your kids that fancy
disease called the rickets. He's making a jelly-fish outa you
and putting wrinkles in my face. This is the subject every inch
of the way! He's throwing me into Bud Haas' lap. When in hell
will you get wise—
JOE: I'm not so dub as you think! But you are talking
like a red.
EDNA: I don't know what that means. But when a man knocks
you down you get up and kiss his fist! You gutless piece of boloney.
JOE: One man can't—
EDNA: (with great joy) I don't say one man! I say a hundred,
a thousand, a whole million, I say. But start in your own union.
Get those hack boys together! Sweep out those racketeers like
a pile of dirt! Stand up like men and fight for the crying kids
and wives. Goddamnit! I'm tired of slavery and sleepless nights.
JOE: (with her) Sure, sure!...
EDNA: Yes, Get brass toes on your shoes and know where
to kick!
JOE: (suddenly jumping up and kissing his wife full on
the mouth) Listen, Edna, I'm goin' down to 174th Street to look
up Lefty Costello. Lefty was saying the other day... (he suddenly
stops) How about this Haas guy?
EDNA: Get out of here!
JOE: I'll be back! (runs out. For a moment EDNA stands
triumphant. There is a blackout and when the regular lights come
up, JOE MITCHELL is concluding what he has been saying):
JOE: You guys know this stuff better than me. We gotta
walk out! (abruptly he turns and goes back to his seat)
