1951 - 2006

1951-2006

ACT ONE

 SCENE 1. December 1951, 4 P.M.

 

MARGARET ANN MCNALLY (MEG) –31- labors up the fourth and last flight of stairs. She carries two large suitcases. From far away and below a Street Singer is heard for a moment singing “Molly Malone” for coins.

 DAVID NATHAN LIGHT –28- sits in his wooden wheelchair in the doorway of his apartment, 4A. He is plucking, poorly, at a guitar and singing along with a recording of Woody Guthrie, playing inside his apartment – “Do – Re – Me”. A bottle of beer rests in his lap.

DAVID

“...If you ain’t got the do-re-me-boys...”

 (Meg stops on the stairs to catch her breath. DAVID sings to her, then pauses, swigs his beer and stares.

She looks back—dizzy—he reminds her, powerfully, of someone. This is a woman who has lost the love of her life and her unborn child. She shivers in the cold winter light.)  

...Need some help? (pause. shouts.)  Warsawski! Hey, Warsawski! ... I’ll kill him.

(Meg stares at the open door of the empty room-womb-tomb: 4B.)

MEG

...Who’s Warsawski?

DAVID

The draft-dodging Fagin who just counter-signed your lease. (pause) Eighty a month, right? (pause) Then he claims he has an emergency across the street at 324, and leaves you to haul your life’s savings up four flights, knowing—and this is the point—that I’ll have to sit here, helpless, while you, unwillingly, humiliate me-and he’s downstairs laughing up his kaftan… Want a bottle of beer? By the way, I’m Jewish, so don’t think, ah... You’re 4B, from Chicago , correct? Irish, Catholic, 31 years old. What else?

MEG

...Who told you that?

DAVID

Our infamous landlord, our lord of the land – another Chicago boy, “City of the Big Shoulders”, as he must have confided to you when he made his first pass. (pause. shouts.) Warsawski!

MEG

I just have one more small one--downstairs.

DAVID

(To himself.)

Sisyphus.

MEG

Pardon?

DAVID

(pause)

Baggage. We all have a “leetle” baggage.

MEG

(shaking her head. Pause.)

Not at all.

(She climbs to the landing and stares into the dim interior of 4B.)  

DAVID

...What do you do?  My name’s David Light, as in “light”.

MEG

Margaret McNally. Meg. I teach.

DAVID

I thought so. Nursery school?

MEG

I have... All ages. Some writing.

DAVID

Writing? What?

MEG

...Anything. Comedy.

DAVID

Comedy? You?

(They both laugh.)

Me, too.

MEG

You?

(They laugh. The Guthrie record plays to its end.)

 DAVID

No, I’m strictly legit.

MEG

I see. Like what?

DAVID

Oh, the usual: sonnets, haiku, limericks, grand opera. Mainly comedy. I’m a “sit-up” comedian. Didn’t you catch me on the Ed Solomon Show? “And here he is, the star of stage and scream – Big Dave Luftmensch brought to you by your Armed Force Free Radio – direct from Club Rosenberg in picturesque Sing Sing New York.”

(David now goes into a Lenny Bruce-like routine, complete with microphone pops and squawks. Meg responds at once.)

 

“(pop-pop-pop)—Good evening ladies and gentlemen. (pop-pop) Welcome to the back ward of the Long Island General George C. Patton Veterans Hospital . (pop-pop – screech) A night to remember: All the spam you can eat and a floorshow you’ll never forget: The nurses from the psycho ward’ll be kicking up their heels, in their spanking white Eisenhower jackets (costumes and make up by the Red Cross), and featuring – direct from twenty-seven weeks in Adolph Hitler’s bunker, direct from Berlin –

(Meg and David are both caught up with laughter.)

 DAVID (CONT’D)

Ah-hah! Berlin – in her first American exposure – Fraulein Fritzy Ritz! Put your hands together and give her a real old-fashioned red, white, and blue welcome!”

(David breaks into a rendition of “Deutchland Uber Alles.” He sings away until he sees that Meg has stopped laughing.)

 ...OK, what’s the verdict? A thousand dollars and it’s yours.

MEG

(pause)

Can I read some of your material?

DAVID

Get out.

 MEG

Why? I’m serious.

DAVID

The unthinking man’s Lenny Bruce, huh?

MEG

...Forget it then.

DAVID

...I will.

(Pause, then Meg turns back to look into her new apartment.)

 DAVID

...Raskolnikov moved out last week. (No response.) Want a bottle of brew?

(MEG turns to look at him. Pause.

 DAVID wheels himself to the door of the empty apartment, 4B.)

 DAVID

...Mr. Wray, gone away.

(DAVID uses an Irish brogue to cover his raw sensibilities.)

 MEG

When?

DAVID

Labor Day... Billy Wray – man and dog – fourteen years – so they say – Terry – you can still smell him. (He studies her face.) You don’t have the flu, do you?

(Meg coughs and peers deeper into 4B. Below, outside in a courtyard, the street-singer is heard again; his voice, raw and Irish, bounces off the concrete canyon walls.)

STREET SINGER (OFF)

                        “... She died of a feverAnd no one could save her

                                    And that’s how I lost my sweet Molly Malone.

                Now her ghost wheels a wheelbarrow

                                    Through streets wide and narrow.

                                    Calling mussels and cockles

                                    Alive – Alive – O...”

 STREET SINGER (CONT’D)

...God bless you, God bless you – Thank you very much – good luck, God bless... Merry Christmas...

DAVID

...Alive, alive – o... Throw him down some change. (she is rapt)... Next time.

MEG

(focusing)

He said his kids were waiting for him – for Christmas – the landlord.

(David howls out a cry of outrage, then wheels back into his apartment.

 Meg turns, stares up at the cold winter glare from the skylight. The light spill frames her face. She is peering up and away, lost in another time and place.

Inside 4A, David has put on another record: Lead Belly singing “Easy Rider.”

 Meg does not see David reappear in his doorway with a bottle of beer for her. He watches as her lips form some words, but they are covered by the music. Is she praying?

 David starts to sing along with his record. Meg recovers. She moves her suitcase inside 4B. David hands her the beer. He lifts his bottle in a toast.)

 DAVID

“Standin’ in the kitchen in her mornin’ gown...-Hey-hey-hey-hey...” Merry Krishnas and a satirical-rational new year.

(Meg focuses on this “new man.” She shakes her head, No. Never again.)

MEG

Happy Chanukah.

(DAVID stiffens, then, with a cry of outrage, arches back in his wheelchair.)

 DAVID

Warsawski!

(MEG has stung him, but he had invited it, and his face is actually red with a new pleasure.

 Voice of an Odetta recording, under, for next scene.)

 

SCENE 2: January, 1952, 1 A.M.

 DAVID is sitting in his open doorway dozing, with a drink in his lap. The recorded voice of Odetta singing traditional black songs plays softly on the victrola inside his apartment.

 MEG quietly and quickly climbs the stairs. She wears a threadbare but, originally, good ensemble, and carries a portfolio of theatrical material.

She has news and life to share with David. MEG appears ten years younger than a month ago. She sees DAVID asleep, his cigarette burning in his ashtray. She studies him... smiles... tiptoes up, stubs out the cigarette.

 DAVID mutters and twists in his wheelchair.  The music plays out. Far off, a siren. MEG wants to let him sleep, but she needs his company.

 MEG

...David...

(MEG strokes his hair. He awakens slowly.)

 DAVID

...Where is he?

MEG

Ssh... who?

DAVID

Godot.

MEG

Shh.

DAVID

What do you mean? There’s no one still alive in this dump.

 MEG

Shh. Don’t call this joint a dump.

DAVID

No, I mean where’s your date, your escort, you know, your –

MEG

Oh, I see. Well – actually I was “alone on the aisle.”

DAVID

Alone? Where was Warsawski sitting?

(They seethe with suppressed laughter.)

Waiting for Warsawski! (shaking, silently.) ...No, seriously – did he come this time?

MEG

(silent hilarity)

...Who?

DAVID

Godot!

(They finally recover.)

 DAVID (CONt’d)

Was it great?

MEG

...Great. (they smoke) The text.

DAVID

“I can’t go on...”

MEG

“We will go on...”

 DAVID

Jesus... You have to write the review tonight? Want a drink?

MEG

Sure. I’ll get it.

(She disappears into 4A, David’s apartment. He winces, then destroys the growing closeness between them with a lie.)

 DAVID

(calling)

I talked to him in Paris . Beckett. Je n’en peu plus.

MEG (OFF)

Ssh. What? Are you serious?

(She emerges with drinks.)

 Who cleaned up your place? You met Beckett?

(MEG gives DAVID a chance and a choice to respect her by telling the truth.)

 DAVID

The V.A. sends someone over to clean up every two weeks... A man... Beckett? Hell, yes. (Irish accent) Sure, didn’t we get pissed together?

(He glowers at her, lifts his glass.)

 Cheers...

(MEG defends herself with power enough to turn DAVID’s face crimson with shame.)

 MEG

Was that during your “Irish” period--after your fistfight with Ernest Hemingway--or your Dylan Thomas binge, when the two of you burnt down a, what?, a livery stable –

DAVID

An empty livery stable.

MEG

...Empty. It would be.

DAVID

...You secretly hate Jews, don’t you?

(They smoke and stare. She rises and takes their drink glasses back inside to refill.)

MEG (OFF)

Tell ya what I’m gonna do...

(She reenters with fresh drinks and a provocation of her own.)

 I’m going to interview you about your “relationship” with

Samuel –

DAVID

“Sam.”

 MEG

Oh, of course – “Sam” Beckett – and ask the Voice to pay me double for the play review plus the –

DAVID

How much?

MEG

The Village Voice is not in your, ah –

DAVID

No, I mean, how much do I get – What’s my, you know, “percentage”?

MEG

...So you think I hate all Jews?

(She goes back into 4A.)

 DAVID

Mm... Well, maybe with a couple of exceptions.

MEG

Oh?

DAVID

Yeah, Leopold Bloom...

(MEG emerges with the bottle.)

 MEG

He’s a fictional character.

DAVID

Exactly... Jesus Christ, I guess, but, of course, he’s a “fictional character” too, isn’t he?

 MEG

You are dead wrong, boyo. Myself, I’ve known an army of Jewish intellectuals, and, believe me, it’s made me a true believer in the sacred rite of circumcision.

DAVID

...Watch out, now.

MEG

Why? Circumcision. It’s perfect. You can always tell who’s a real prick! (Irish) Cheers!

(MEG has traded blow for blow with DAVID, and he is beginning to know just who this woman is.)

   

SCENE 3. November, 1952, 10 P.M.

Election night, 1952, eleven months later. MEG and DAVID sit glumly, each in their own doorway. From inside 4B, Meg’s apartment, can be heard television coverage of the event, including the voices of candidates Eisenhower and Stevenson, respectively.

 MEG

...Come in. It’s all over.

David

No thanks.

MEG

I’ll turn it off.

DAVID

You will? The T.V.? The ever staring Cyclopian eye?

MEG

It’s over. He never had a chance... Come in, I still have the stew from –

DAVID

(Brogue) Ah, the old Irish stew, is it?

MEG

(pause)

It was good enough for you last night.

(He wheels into his apartment. MEG pauses, then enters her own and turns off the television. Silence on the empty landing. Then, the sound of Lead Belly, singing “ Bourgeois Town ”.  David joins in with his recording, singing and playing his guitar; he reenters, a pint of whiskey in his lap. From below, someone bangs on a radiator pipe.

 Meg reappears in her doorway. She sits and eats from a bowl.)

 DAVID and record

“Me and my wife went all over town.

Everywhere we went the people turned us down

 Lord, it’s a bourgeois town

Got the bourgeois blues

Gonna spread the news

All around...”

 (The record plays out. DAVID drinks.  MEG returns her chair and soup bowl to inside her apartment, then comes back to the doorway. Silence as both smoke.

 DAVID drinks, then holds out the bottle to MEG. She refuses. They glare at each other.)

DAVID

...I’m going on an eight-year drunk.

MEG

Eight years?

DAVID

That’s right. To be followed by eight years of Richard Nixon. Make that a sixteen-year drunk... What’re you going to do, go back to Italy ? (Imitating her) “Shh, Firenze ,” “The David,” the, ah, by the way, “The David” was still circumcised – I mean at the time of your romantic wandering there with, what-was’-name, Ginsberg, Fred?, and you “were so happy, blah-blah-blah.”

MEG

...Jealousy is such a small trait.

(Pause. Then MEG sings a phrase from the losing Democratic Party’s traditional song.)

 MEG (CONT’D)

“Happy days are here again

The skies above are blue again...”

(Silence. DAVID drinks.)

 MEG (CONT’D)

...No. The last time I looked, someone had broken off your namesake David’s young sex.

 DAVID

...Oh. And who would have done that? (Brogue) Pope Julius the Turd or you yourself?

MEG

Hmm... You think I want to castrate you, and every other man from “The David” on down. Oh, my, my. You may have read “every word of Freud” at the University of Chicago , but you don’t have a clue, soldier.

DAVID

(pause)

Of course not. Why would you waste your time? I’ve been more or less “gelded” since 1945. And that was in Italy , too – but I lost my bella figura in Anzio , not in “Oh, so molto, molto Firenze .”

(MEG pales. Puts out the cigarette in her ashtray, and walks to his wheelchair; sinks to her knees, touches his leg under the blanket.)

 MEG

David... forgive me.

(DAVID stretches back in his chair, staring up at the skylight. His face is trapped in the winter spill of light from above.

 MEG’s compassion and character have pushed him over the edge of his lies, into the truth.)

 DAVID

...What I’m actually going to do for the next eight years – is write the “Great American Novel” – about a spoiled brat from the North Shore of the Windy City of Chicago, whose father fixed him up with a desk job at Fort Sheridan so he could commute to the Wrigley Tower and write U.S. Armed Force Radio propaganda – who never heard a shot fired in anger because he was given leave every weekend to go to his family country club – good old Rolling Green (sings) “Where the kikes and Ike Eisenhower play” – golf – so our hero could cheat at poker in the good old circumcised locker room, and lay all the wives of the boys who were over there in Anzio... And broke his spine, diving drunk into the pool one midnight , and left some poor bastards’ equally insane and naked Gold Star wife and princess screaming for help... And was rescued from the wrath of his father’s family and warehoused at the Veterans Hospital downstate... And got out with “life time disability” and wheeled my way here to this grand old Nazi neighborhood of Yorkville, and the kind clutches of the Warsawski ghetto—and the Manhattan V.A. who hauled him bodily up the four final flights, here, to good old 4A...

(At last he looks down on her tears, and his words are torn from him like pieces of flesh.)

And that’s the “Great American Novel”: fear-hate-cowardice-arrogance-cruelty-betrayal-and lies, lies, lies...

(Slowly, she puts her head in his lap.)

 MEG

...Come in, for God’s sake...or will I do it for you here?

SCENE 4: March 1954, 4 P.M.

Two years later.  MEG is 34, DAVID 31. On the fourth floor both doors are closed. Sounds of someone ascending stairs.  MARSHALL WARSAWSKI, the landlord, climbs into view.

 WARSAWSKI is middle aged. He is fit and wears a deep suntan and a well cut top coat, scarf and hat. A college graduate who speaks with formal correctness, the landlord is a famous family man who harbors an immense secret life.

 He listens closely from the landing to the silence, then taps on the door of 4A.

 WARSAWSKI

Dave... Dave... Dave, it’s Marshall .

(No answer. MEG opens her door. She carries out a suitcase. The LANDLORD and MEG stare at each other, until he tips his hat.)

 WARSAWSKI (CONT’D)

Miss McNally.

MEG

Mr. Warsawski.

WARSAWSKI

Where’s your “friend”?  I didn’t see him go out.

MEG

(pause)

Out?... He doesn’t go out. You know that. He can’t go out. He has never gone out – except on Fridays – when they carry him to the Veterans Hospital .

WARSAWSKI

(pause)

That is correct. And he never will... And how are you Miss McNally? What are you studying these days?

 MEG

(pause)

I teach. Part time. You know that, too.

WARSAWSKI

That is correct. “Part time.” (Knocking harder on 4A). Dave. Dave – I have a letter from you father... Dave – a personal letter from your father – Judge Light – Personal! (looks at Meg’s suitcase) Are you leaving, Miss McNally?

MEG

(pause)

Ten days. I left you a note.

WARSAWSKI

Easter vacation?... Back to Chicago ? Good Friday at St. Timothy’s on West Van Buren? Isn’t it funny how we’re all from Chicago ?

(DAVID yanks his door open and wheels out at WARSAWSKI, bellowing the ditty “ Chicago ”.)

 DAVID

“...I saw a man he danced with his wife in Chicago, Chicago – that’s my home town!”

(The LANDLORD leaps away to save his Florsheims from David’s oncoming wheels.)

 WARSAWSKI

Whoa! Ha-ha! Watch the Florsheims. Whoa, whoa, whoa... How’s the boy, Dave?

(A deadly silence. No one moves.)

 DAVID

Do you know what time it is?

WARSAWSKI

Exactly 4 P.M.

DAVID

By your “ Elgin Executive”... It’s the middle of the day. Are you trying to wake the dead?

 WARSAWSKI

What? Oh, sorry, sorry. What are you writing now? –“Genius at work”, Miss McNally, “Do not disturb.” Ha-ha... No, I just trotted up to see if you needed any service, you know, because of Miss McNally’s going back home for Easter Sunday, etcetera...

(All stare. WARSAWSKI tips his hat again and starts down the stairs. Stops:)

 Wait a minute. Your father. Judge Light. Special Delivery.

(He turns back to hand DAVID the letter. DAVID does not take it. Long pause.)

 DAVID

“Return to Sender.”

(At length, the landlord turns, bows to MEG, and dances down the stairs, singing:)

 WARSAWSKI

“You’ll have the time, the time of your life/I saw a man he danced with his wife/In Chicago...that toddlin’ town, that toddlin’ town...”

(Silence. MEG goes in, comes out with a small box, her coat and purse; locks her door, looks at DAVID.)

 DAVID

...Go ahead.

Meg

Here’s the Lenny Bruce tape. Enjoy it... I’ll be back on the –

 DAVID

Fuck Lenny Bruce! I’m bigger than “Leonard Bruce”. Laugh, you Catholic bitch, listen to this:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, everybody knows that all communists are Jews, but did you know that all Jews are not communists? I kid you not. Some of them are socialists!”

(She laughs.)

 MEG

That is terrible.

DAVID

Philistine.

MEG

But you can write.

DAVID

(German accent)

So, you love me for my mind?

MEG

(pause)

That, too.

(He turns red and looks away.)

 DAVID

Go.

MEG

Will the V.A. send someone to –

DAVID

Disappear. “The House of Spirits – We Deliver.”

MEG

(pause)

What?

DAVID

The House of Spirits.

MEG

Uh – you mean the –

DAVID

Right. The liquor store... “They deliver.” The House of Spirits. You know: the father, and the son, and the holy smoke.

(She contains herself and starts to leave with her suitcase. He sings after her: )

 “Chicago, Chicago, that toddlin’ town, that toddlin’ town, Chicago, Chicago, I’ll see you around...”

 

SCENE 5: April 1954, 1 P.M. – two weeks later

 In the darkness, the voice of counsel JOSEPH WELSH as he eviscerates the demagogue, Senator Joseph McCarthy: “Have you, Senator, at long last, no shame...”

 Lights up on DAVID picking out an original melody on his guitar, his technique much more sophisticated than three years before.

A sound of someone coming up; DAVID stops and waits; MEG mounts into view, stops; they look at each other.

 DAVID

Who are you?

MEG

(pause)

Did you get my four-page letter?

DAVID

Are you looking for a Miss Margaret Ann McNally? Well, it’s a long story: she went back home to Chicago before Easter but she never came back. No, and it’s a damn shame, too, but I’ll tell you the whole tale because you see I’m a writer and I’m putting it all in my novel –

MEG

David –

DAVID

Well, you guessed it: she was really a simple Irish-American colleen who got in over her head, you know, writing material for Lenny Bruce, making up “Arts Reviews” for the Village Voice after they fired all the Communists – Anyway – she had a torrid affair with a notorious womanizer named M.A. Warsawski and, of course, she got knocked up and had to get an abortion somewhere, so Warsawski, who was not a Catholic, not at all, gave her a grand to go to Puerto Rico to have –

MEG

My mother had a stroke on Easter Sunday... She died on the Wednesday... The funeral was Saturday... the, ah...

(She bows her head, rooted to the top stair. DAVID covers his face, then reaches out for her.)

 DAVID

I never got your letter – Warsawski! So you know, I... I want you to lure Warsawski up here so I can cut his throat.

(Meg looks up at him, and, finally, crosses to his chair and sinks down into his embrace. She talks as he holds her on his lap.)

 MEG

Why are we living here on the fourth floor of a –

DAVID

I know, I know – you want a drink?

MEG

No... My head’s splitting, the wake was a... Oh, God... I want you to write about her – five feet, built like a fullback, we called her the “Playmate of the Year”...

(She laughs and cries. He rocks her.)

 DAVID

I will. I’ll write about Annie McNally and the Chicago Irish – I will – “We can’t go on, we will go on.” (picks up his guitar). C’mon, sing her song?, how’s it go, c’mon, I’m a veteran, that’s an order!

(She has to laugh. He plays, and they sing the old Harry Lauder song, complete, finally, with music hall Scots accents: )

 DAVID and MEG

“Just a wee deoch-an-Doris/Just a wee drop that’s all/Just a wee deoch-an- Doris/Before we gang a-wa-...”

(DAVID goes on.)

 DAVID

“There’s a wee wifie waitin’/ in a wee but an ben/If you can say, ‘It’s a braw bricht moonlight nicht/ye a’richt ye ken.”

 MEG

...Twenty-seven years in the Linen Room of Holy Name Hospital, and him out of work and his lungs ruined from the mines in Pennsylvania –

(All overlapping: )

 DAVID

I’m going to write it all –

MEG

Up in the dark, winter and summer, four kids and him coughing in the chair, sitting up all night trying not to cough so we

could –

DAVID

I got so drunk while you were gone, they had to send a team over from the V.A. –

MEG

She thought I should – she thought I lost my way here - She –

DAVID

She thought you should get –

Meg

“You’re going’ on thirty-five years old, Meg, and it’s time, it’s time – “

DAVID

I want you to marry me...I know what your mother would’ve –

(They both shake with laughter.)

MEG

Wait...wait... My brother’s a policeman, he calls Joe McCarthy “Another Lincoln”!

(They laugh and laugh.)

 DAVID

I’ll go on the wagon. No, I will, I’m going to write it, I’m going to tell the story of you and your family, and Chicago, and me and my family, and you can do the typing and save on rent

and –

(One last upsurge of crying laughter, then silence.)

 DAVID (CONT’D)

...This is not liquor talking… the V.A. wants to send a therapist over here. A psychotherapist. Because the – my, uh, sex, uh impotenza, as we say in –

MEG

Let’s go inside.

 DAVID

It could be mental...

MEG

...What a character.

DAVID

You want to take off your g’damn girdle and try again.

MEG

David...

DAVID

C’mon, Lady Chatterly. Follow me into 4B. We’ll put on your Edward R. Murrow propaganda record and that’ll make you so hot you’ll have to tear off the girdle, (imitation of Murrow) – “Good night and good luck” - and then I – I will – I will – do something – for you...

MEG

You already have.

DAVID

No, no, but I will, I will, I –

MEG

You’ve loved me. You’ve missed me, and you’ve pitied me, and –

DAVID

I never pitied, I –

MEG

Shh, there is nothing wrong with a bit of pity.

DAVID

That’s your g’damn church talking now, no wonder Lenny Bruce kicked your ass out –

MEG

Shh – and you’ve loved me...

(He sinks back, exhausted, as is she.)

DAVID

...Meg...Meg...can we just – can we just...

(They rest, then sleep. In the dark, that voice of cultivated doom, Edward R. Murrow, quietly excoriates Senator McCarthy: “The Junior Senator from Wisconsin ...”)

 SCENE 6: July 1957, 11 A.M.

MEG is 37, DAVID 34, in 1957, three years later. The doors to 4A and 4B are closed. Footsteps coming up: THOMAS QUINN appears.

 TOM QUINN is 40, a counselor with the Veterans Administration. A slight limp is the sign of his war wound in the South Pacific. He is a recovering alcoholic (8 years), in charge of the Manhattan V.A. Alcoholics Anonymous program.  He wears a hot weather shirt, speaks with a strong New England accent.

TOM reaches the landing. Silence, except for sounds below from the life of the building. TOM listens at 4A, then goes to 4B and taps lightly in code. Meg opens the door.

MEG

Ah, Tom – I didn’t want to bother you on a Sunday.

TOM

It’s better if I don’t go near the church at all, these days.

MEG

Ah, Tom...

(They touch each other, almost shyly, then step apart. Music from below – Sinatra – up and then out.)

 TOM

...Is he alive or dead?

MEG

After he broke up the furniture – not a sound.

TOM

Your landlord called me on Friday.

MEG

Warsawski?

 TOM

He wants him out. “Take him away to the V.A. Hospital ” or he’s going into court to get a “John Doe”/”Richard Rae” eviction order. (She turns away.) You can’t, you’re –

 MEG

I’m “part of the problem” now. Is that how you say it! “Co-dependent.”

TOM

Yeah.

MEG

Even though I don’t smoke or drink at all, anymore.

TOM

Even though he’s still alive—thanks to you only.

(He lights a cigarette, then puts it out on the sole of his shoe and pockets it.)

   MEG

Not any more. I’m killing him now.

TOM

You’re wrong.

MEG

I can’t, I’m not – what he needs – I can’t – a – love him the way he –

TOM

Listen to me: you’re full of guilt because –

MEG

If I get out –

TOM

But you’re wrong. He’s killing himself.

 MEG

(pause)

If I could move –

TOM

And you’re killing yourself. Only not with alcohol.

(She puts her arms around Tom. He holds back a return of her embrace, but the effort costs him.)

 

TOM (CONT’D)

...You’re in love with a married man – that’s what’s killing you... And that’s what’s killing me. (He embraces her) Murdering me. You’re not his “co-dependent,” whatever the hell that means, you’re mine.

MEG

He’s –

TOM

He’s just an innocent bystander...and he knows.

MEG

No, I’ve –

TOM

He knows. He’s as quick as they come. He’s a writer, he may never finish anything but he’s a writer and you can’t fool him.

MEG

...No.

 TOM

He’s a drunk – and a writer – and whatever guilt there is it’s mine – wait – it’s mine, it’s me – wait – and it’s me that’s going to leave –

MEG

Tom –

TOM

I’m off his case, as of today, a man named Bob Buzzecki’ll be in here tomorrow with a team. They’ll break the door down and take him out to de-tox.

(They stand apart, eye to eye. He relights his cigarette, puffs, then puts it out again.)

 And I’ll go to church with my wife and kids. (She is shaking) And then I’ll go to confession, and take communion, and then...

MEG

(a whisper)

What?

Tom

Nothing... I’ll just remember you for the rest of my life... “One day at a time.” – You know the words.

MEG

I know. “One day at a time.”... And the other one: “Do the next right thing.”

(They are fighting for control.)

 TOM

That’s it. That’s A.A. That’s the chapter and the verse.

MEG

(finally)

Goodbye, Tom... God bless.

TOM

(backing away)

“Here’s looking at you, kid.”

(They laugh softly, then stumble into a holding dance step, trying to sing: )

 MEG and TOM

“...It’s still the same old story/a fight for love and glory/a case of do or die...”

(And TOM is gone. The echo of his steps recede, leaving only the sounds from the building and the street.

 MEG moves to follow TOM down the steps. Holds herself back, literally; prays to herself; hits herself...

 When MEG recovers she goes to David’s door and knocks once firmly. She exerts a furious, dry-eyed self-control, her words are fast and hard.)

 MEG

David-- If you’re alive – it’s Sunday—David--It’s Sunday and I’m going to make my “confession” to you: I’m not going anywhere – I’m staying here – As long as you stay, I stay. One day at a time... Tom’s gone... and I’m here. Tom’s off your case--because he cares so much.

 (Silence, forcing her to make a wild effort.)

 MEG (CONT’D)

...Oh, hello, Mr. Bruce – oh, yes of course, I’ll tell him you’re here – David, listen, there’s a Mr. Bruce here to see you. (imitating Lenny Bruce: ) “Hello, 4A, how you doing, daddy? Listen, 4A, we need the room, man, we got a honeymoon couple here from Miami , Florida , who want to kill themselves, so we need the room.”...

(MEG’s last effort is spent. Her voice is failing, she slides down the door almost to the floor. Far below a baby cries and MEG, too, sobs silently, along with the child. Then, again, and exhausted, almost numb self control: these words are forever.)

 Meg (CONT’D)

...David... Wait for me. Tom’s gone. We’re here – and we have to do the next right thing: That’s it. That’s all. “The next right thing, one day at a time.” (a whisper) David!

(The baby’s crying is hushed. Silence. Then, as the lights dim, the actual voice of Lenny Bruce covers the darkness : )

 voice of lenny bruce

“...So, man – Jackie Kennedy – she was hauling ass over the back of the limo and the Secret Service... “

 SCENE 7: December 1964, 1 P.M.

1964, MEG is 44; DAVID 41: seven years later. The two sit outside of their apartments with T.V. tables in front of them. On the trays are the remains of their lunch and writing materials. DAVID has grown a small beard and has a few gray hairs.

 As they write, the sound of a Christmas carol drifts up. Then footsteps. Both pause, look, and wait.

 TOM QUINN appears. He is now 46, but looks older, his limp is worse. He is muffled up against the cold. The three look at each other, until TOM removes his old fur hat and MEG and DAVID recognize him.

TOM holds up a shopping bag containing presents. They stare, then TOM takes out three wrapped gifts and lays them on the landing.  

Not a word yet spoken; MEG stands and DAVID wheels closer. Finally, MEG tries to start time again with an old refrain, murmured with her head on one side, like an ancient Irish woman.

 MEG

...Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

(DAVID reaches out slowly, to grip TOM’S hand.)

 TOM

That’s us. (holding onto DAVID’s hand) Meg, how did your niece say it?

MEG

“Matthew Mark look at John...”

(And they all start to laugh, softly.)

 TOM

“Dominick, go frisk him.”

(Now the three are partly embraced and “laughing”.)

MEG

Take off your coat, Tom, and we’ll give you a soft drink.

TOM

Is that all?

DAVID

7-Up or Pepsi. Period.

TOM

“Sure, it’s a good man’s failin’” As my dear old drunk dad always said.

(Laughter. TOM opens his coat.)

 7-Up. Hold the bourbon.

(Still no one moves.)

 “A good man’s failing.” What garbage... Now, they think it’s genetic – for Ireland .

DAVID

Absolutely! And Chicago , too! What a crock.

(laughter.)

 7-Up, coming up.

(DAVID wheels into 4A. MEG and TOM look at each other.

 TOM digs for a cigarette, then decides against it.

 MEG pulls her old sweater tight around her.)

 MEG

I’m getting fat...

(TOM breathes a half chuckle, and they continue their long lost gaze.

 DAVID wheels in with the soft drink glass and ice; stops and takes in the two others. Slowly, TOM and MEG turn their heads to look at DAVID. All three share the same sad smile.)

 DAVID

(wheeling)

L’chaim.

(TOM drains the glass, studies DAVID.)

 TOM

I like your beard... And your column in the Village Voice. As my old man would’ve said, “You’ve done very well in this country.”

MEG

Mine, too.

DAVID

Thank you, Thomas.

MEG

Don’t get him started on –

TOM

You and Norman Mailer – you guys believe it was a conspiracy?

MEG

(pause)

They do.

TOM

(pauses)

Yeah, well... me too... you guys starting up, uh –

MEG

They are.

DAVID

“Committee for the Truth about who killed JFK.” (pause) Want to sign up, Thomas?

MEG

No.

TOM

(pause)

Sure...

(Soft laughter, again. TOM rebuttons his coat, looks at the presents.)

 TOM (CONT’D)

Books... (puts on his gloves, then to MEG) Teaching?

(MEG nods slowly. DAVID sees her deep feelings and intervenes in a fake Irish brogue.)

 DAVID

Worrrld Literature. Chekhov, y’know, all them little fellas.

TOM

Chekhov. (shakes his head) Nothing ever happens.

(All smile. TOM turns on the landing as if to leave, putting on his hat.)

 Matt’s waiting for me at Radio City .

MEG

(pause)

Fourteen years old?

(TOM pauses, with his back to them, ready to descend.)

 TOM

(nods)

...Sheila – my wife – passed away in ’61... So, now, I’m ...

MEG

(pause)

Free?

TOM

(pause)

Yeah.

(Silence. They are frozen in a parting tableau. At length, DAVID releases them all.)

 DAVID

Mm... that makes three of us.

(TOM turns back and he and MEG stare at DAVID.

 Recorded singing of Harry Lauder up and over into the interval.)

 --END OF ACT ONE--

 

ACT TWO

 SCENE 1: September 1971, 11 A.M.

 

In the dark, sounds of war and riot and protest music, including the voices of: Lyndon Johnson; Richard Nixon; Henry Kissinger; Tom Hayden; the young John Kerry; Malcolm X; Bobby Seale; Bob Dylan; late Beatles; all leading to the sounds of the Watergate crisis and the fall of the Nixon government: a sound capsule of 1963-1973.

 After this Act Two Overture, lights up on DAVID sitting in his doorway writing. His hair is longer and grayer, at his age of 48. At the sound of ascending footsteps, he covers his writing, picks up his guitar and improvises. He now wears glasses.

 The walls of the fourth floor landing are now painted a new color.

DAVID’s wheelchair is no longer wooden; he now uses a modern metal machine.

 JULIEN WARSAWSKI, the son of the late landlord, appears and trudges up to the landing. Young JULIEN is fifty—an overweight sad sack of stuttering contradictions and conflicts—a bundle of secrets and fears, but not unintelligent; in fact, deceptively cunning.

 Julien

(puffing)

H-hi.

DAVID

Julien. How you doing? How’s your father, the lord of the land?

Julien

He p-passed away yesterday in Florida .

DAVID

Is that a fact?... So... the old order passeth.

Julien

Yeah. I g-guess so.

DAVID

(pause)

So-was it sudden?

Julien

Yeah.

DAVID

In Miami ?

Julien

Yeah. In a motel.

 DAVID

Is that a fact? (pause) Going to the funeral?

julien

No, I’m a – I have a – I can’t fly.

DAVID

Uh-huh... Me too. Well, we could have a little something here. You and me and Miss McNally. He was always, ah, fond of her.

(DAVID picks out a dirge from his guitar, along with a faked wail of Semitic sorrow.)

 Julien

W-well...

DAVID

With a few words from the old book “Ecclesiastes”. What do you say?

Julien

W-well...

DAVID

“...for a living dog is better than a dead lion.” ... That’s you, isn’t it, Julien? Me, too. Hm… My pater was a judge. Some said a corrupt judge. But a powerful judge. Now your father—he was, ah...

Julien

He w-was, he w-w-was –

DAVID

Precisely... so from one living dog to another: “May your tears be dried.”

Julien

Thanks, Mr. Light.

DAVID

...I’ll tell Miss McNally after her classes... Ah, about the rent...

Julien

Everybody else gets raised.

DAVID

Is that so? But not, ah –

Julien

No. Not you and M-miss M-McNally.

DAVID

Julien – Mr. Warsawski – I thank you, sir.

(Bowing, JULIEN turns to start down. DAVID stops him.)

 

Say, Julien – they had you enrolled in psychotherapy? Yeah, well, I know all about it. Be careful. Before you know it they’ll be telling you that your old man was a phony and that you hated him –

Julien

W-w-well -

DAVID

And, that, in some way, you killed him.

julien

W-W-

DAVID

It’s a scandal. Men like us!... Why talk to strangers? You want someone to talk to – come up here. No charge!

(They laugh.)

 

DAVID (CONT’D)

Uh, by the way  - Julien – my cousin from Chicago ’s going to stay with me for a day or so – till his ankle heals – he fell – off his bike.

(Neither man moves. A siren starts far away. No movement. The siren comes closer. Lights to black.

 In darkness: the siren screams in; gun shots and sirens overwhelm the audience’s hearing. Then:

 Sudden and total silence. A weak moonbeam through the skylight begins the next scene.)

 

SCENE 2: September 1971, 3 A.M. ; sixteen hours later.

 Night silence. Only pale moonlight. MEG’s door, 4B, is closed; DAVID’s door, 4A, is cracked open only six inches—enough space for a lighted candle.

 Someone can be heard climbing the stairs—a slow, soft scraping sound--and panting as he comes closer.  

The MAN labors into sight and is forced to crawl up the final flight. DAVID’s door opens another six inches.

The MAN reaches the landing, crawling now on all fours, a foot at a time. He is dressed in black. He is, in fact, a Black Panther fugitive.

 The wounded black militant reaches DAVID’s door. It swings open and the bleeding MAN falls over the threshold and is pulled inside by DAVID. DAVID—after two minutes—wheels out carrying a towel. He closes his door, moves to 4B and taps on MEG’s door.

 MEG

(from inside)

...David?

DAVID(softly)

Meg.

(A siren far away registers as MEG, in her old bathrobe, unbolts her door and opens it. She is 51 years old in 1971.)

 MEG

(turning on a light)

David?

DAVID

Ssh. Turn it off!

MEG

(turning off the light and whispering)

What’s wrong?

(DAVID hands her a towel. The siren is closer now.)

What’s happened? Are you –

DAVID

Help me wipe up the blood.

(The siren is gone. The two hold, then, blackout.)

 

 SCENE 3: September 1971, 9 A.M. ; One Week Later

Apartment building and city sounds, as MEG hurries towards the stairs with her seminar papers and books.

She is met on the steps by a man in a dark summer suit, hat and tie: FBI Special Agent RON HALL, 40. He speaks with a slight Oklahoma twang, and uses Kleenex to deal with his summer cold.

 FBI

(tipping his hat)

Margaret Ann McNally?

MEG

Hello?

FBI

(showing credentials)

Ron Hall, F.B.I.

 MEG

(pause)

...I see.

FBI

Is Mr. Light in this morning?

MEG

(pause)

Mr. Light? ... I’ll check... He could be at the – ah, this is Friday – he could be out at the Veterans Hospital .

FBI

Right. That’s right. He might could be... Could we talk just for a little bit?

MEG

Um, well, I have to be at work at, ah –

FBI

Ten o’clock . Hudson Academy . East Fourth Street ... How you like it there? Better’n Pratt Institute?

 Meg

(silence)

Can I help you – sir?

FBI

Ron. Ron Hall... Maybe. Yes, Ma’am, maybe you could.

(He looks around, at the landing.)

 Top floor. No way but down from here, huh? (pause) Meg, (she reacts) You know a Negro male calls himself “Ahmeed Muhammed”?

Meg

What? No. No, I don’t.

FBI

A.K.A. “Big Man East.”

MEG

No.

FBI

A.K.A. Robert Holms.

MEG

No. I do not.

FBI

The “Minister for Information” – in the Black Panther Party, on the East coast.

MEG

No, sir.

FBI

(pause)

Meg – I can help you. Can we go inside?

MEG

I’m going to work.

FBI

We can help you. (pause) And you could help your country... Your brother – Detective Patrick McNally, Chicago P.D. – I believe he would want you to protect yourself, wouldn’t he? (She puts her satchel down.) Patrick, Pat – Can I talk to you like a brother, Meg? (He moves close, lowers his voice.) They’re gonna mix you up in this thing any day now. I’m talking to you like a sister, Meg. They‘re gonna round ‘em all up. All of you.

MEG

(backs up)

Who? Who is?

FBI

A.T.F. – F.B.I. – N.Y.P.D. – They’ve killed a police officer, now--and everybody’s going down... Can we go on the inside?

(MEG backs further away. The AGENT crosses to her apartment door.)

 Can we go in and call Chicago ? (no response) Talk to your brother Pat. He’ll tell you what’s right. Pat’ll tell you, how Mr. Light and these cop killers’re gonna set you up.

(He tries her door. MEG labors to control her breathing.)

 Sell you out. Set you up. Will you give me your key?... Pat’ll tell you: It’s a crazy time: A single woman. White men. Black men. All mixed up. A single white woman all mixed up. A crazy time, Margaret... (tries the door again) This is a criminal conspiracy, Meg. Your choice: Go down with the terrorists – or come home – to your Saviour – and to America .

(The moment holds as the hot September light fades to black.)

 SCENE 4: September 1971, 11 P.M. ; Thirteen hours later.

The moon through the skylight. MEG and DAVID sit side by side on the landing, conversing, throughout, in covered tones in the darkness.

DAVID

...Start over. You went to class?

MEG

...I suppose so.

DAVID

What do you mean?

MEG

I don’t know. I’m in a state of shock.

DAVID

You didn’t go back in the – he left first?

MEG

(pause)

David... What’ve you done?!

(He makes a slow, wide gesture.)

DAVID

Bugs.

MEG

What?

DAVID

Wiretaps.

MEG

...What are you doing?

DAVID

(gesturing)

General terms.

MEG

David, you –

DAVID

Talk in general – terms.

(He puts his hand over her mouth. They stay thus until she slowly frees herself. Their voices remain leashed in.)

 MEG

David – you put blood on my hands!

(He puts his hand over her mouth again, but this time with force, and uses his other hand to grip her head.

 He leans in to pour a story into her ear.)

 DAVID

Listen: there was a war, there-is-a-war. And we lost... Just listen. (He lets her breathe.) They’re tapping our phones. No question, and who knows what else, plus Warsawski, that –

MEG

You –

DAVID

That loveable bundle of secrets, Julien Warsawski, has to be their main informer in this building. So from now on – we are not alone. Never. Ever. So conduct your conversation accordingly. No problem. Because everybody who has ears or can read, already knows that I’m an anarchist, and that you’re a non-violent failed Catholic virgin saint and IRA apologist.

(But she does not smile in the dark at this murmurous but sharply articulated attempt at re-establishing personal contact.)

MEG

They killed a policeman.

DAVID

You mean the “Just Assassins” of 1907 – in the Russian –

 MEG

And they would kill my brother.

DAVID

And my father, if he were still alive. Referring to the Ku Klux Klan of –

MEG

(stands)

Your father, my brother, and –

DAVID

The late Judge Light. I am, I was his informer. The late Light and your All-American fullback brother don’t mean a thing in this war we’re talking about – in “general terms”.

(MEG sits down again, with DAVID, in darkness.)

MEG

Where do you go every Friday?

DAVID

The V.A.. Where do you think?

MEG

No, you don’t... I don’t know you.

DAVID

You don’t? Who do you think comes in here and carries this goddamn infernal machine down four flights every –

MEG

I don’t know. I don’t believe anything, now.

DAVID

Good! The sweet little Catholic girl in the white shoes grows up and teaches her first grade students to go home and cut their mommy’s and daddy’s throats. Right on!

 MEG

(pause)

You are insane. I’m not talking about your old time drunks and rants. Right now: cool and calculating – and crazy. I know you but I don’t know you.

(He wheels in, close to her face.)

 DAVID

But I know you, Margaret Ann McNally. I know you deeper than you know yourself. I know that you’re planning to run away – TOMorrow – from all this “insanity” – these bad niggers and good G-Men – shut up!

(He covers her mouth, by force again.)

DAVID (CONT’D)

You’re gone – off to sunny Italy . To Firenze – to find Fred. Huh? Good old Fred with his magic Jewish cock – when you were young and poor, when you sold the bottles you and Fred collected for a few lire – for a down payment on all your hopes and dreams – when you were young and “ Chicago was ready for reform.” Hallelujah!

(He releases her as she crumples in silence. His head hangs, too, now.

 MEG begins to recover. As she does, her breathing changes until, suddenly, she hurls herself on DAVID, beating him.)

MEG

...Who are you! – Who are you!

(She wears herself out. He does not defend himself. Silence and immobility. A distant street sound.)

 DAVID

...You want to go to Italy – together? – adopt a black kid? I don’t give a damn. This country’s extinct. Whitman predicted it – “The most tremendous failure of time.” We read that together. Didn’t we? In the good old days when I was an apolitical dipsomaniac and you were a Chicago Democratic do-gooder out to save my soul. Well – you saved it, “Major Barbara!” (sings the old Salvation Army parody): “Hallelujah, Hallelujah/Put a nickel on the drum/Save another drunken bum/Hallelujah...” (broken) Hallelujah... Yeah. And who was it that showed me the “self portraits” that your first grade black kids drew for you--when you were at Roosevelt taking your Masters’?...I may be nothing but a dry drunk and a liar posing as an author manqué, but you’re the famous Meg McNally, Princess of the working class, and it was you, or was it not? who showed me those –those unspeakably – ah, Jesus Christ - those unspeakably obscene self-drawings of those little children?

(MEG gathers all her strength, then stands up to the truth.)

 MEG

It was.

 DAVID

The little stick figures?

MEG

Yes.

DAVID

With a head and legs?

MEG

Yes!

DAVID

But no arms? –It made me sick!-  Where were their arms? ... If you’re a human being – tell me what you told me then.

MEG

(bracing)

They had no arms.

DAVID

No. No arms. Only stumps, little, ah, flippers, instead of arms – why?

MEG

(full force)

Powerless.

DAVID

They were “powerless” – you said – so that’s why, when they drew their own body images, they did not draw arms, like white kids did – and you published the actual drawings in your thesis and you won a prize and you told me – damn you! – if they don’t find the strength, somewhere, to love and work – the arms – then, someday, they will pick up other “arms” – “other arms” – and that will be the end... And I had no legs and they had no arms –

(She reaches out for him.)

 And I believed you. And it came true. (they breathe.) True...

(They lie in each other’s arms until they sleep. A siren, far off, recedes.)

  

SCENE 5: January 1981, 11 A.M.

The sound rising under the scene’s opening is that of Ronald Reagan’s voice as he recites his inaugural address to the nation: “...the city on the hill...”

MEG and DAVID sit on the landing. The new President’s echoing words reach them from all the television sets in the building, and the world, except their own. They simply sit and stare: MEG is, now, 61; DAVID 58. DAVID’s new wheelchair is motorized.

Finally, to somehow overcome the fatal seduction of the voice, DAVID picks up his guitar and sings over the close of the oration and the cheers of the multitude. DAVID sings--“Where have All The Flowers Gone.” His playing is now perfect. MEG joins in the final chorus—“When will they ever learn...” MEG holds his hand.  

At last, relative silence. Then:

 MEG

Are you going to be able to stand it?

(DAVID stares into space.)

 MEG (CONT’D)

...David?

(He looks at her.)

DAVID

What?

MEG

Can you stand it? ...I mean... can you?

(They look long at each other, recalling, vividly, crisis situations from their past: love, sex, alcohol, politics, near suicide.)

DAVID

...Eight years of that? (she smiles grimly) “The City on the Hill,” the “New Jerusalem”? (she kisses his hand) No. Not really...can you?

MEG

What’s the choice?

(He stares away, again, into space.)

 Finish your novel... I retire in June. I’ll type the final draft.

(He makes a face – sings a refrain from The Threepenny Opera.)

DAVID

“Light ‘em up, boys/Light ‘em up, boys/Happy endings are the rule.”

(They sit and stare, then MEG rises and begins a series of intense dance exercises.)

 MEG

...You better join me.

(DAVID laughs bitterly.)

C’mon, put ‘em up.

(She dances around DAVID’s chair, shadowboxing, until he begins to punch hard at her open palms.)

That’s it – you’re a contender – King Levinski! The “Hebrew Hope”!

(He gives a roar of laughter and they both stop to recover and breathe.)

...So – “to be or not...”, etc.

(DAVID begins to glow with an idea; MEG catches the fire.)

 DAVID

...You know who Hamlet’s father was?

MEG

What? I knew his mother.

DAVID

“Leave her to heaven.” No, who was his father? I’ll give you a clue: it wasn’t the ghost with the clanking balls, and it wasn’t his twin brother Uncle Claudius...

MEG

Ha! Who? Ronald Reagan?

DAVID

Close, you’re close. But Reagan’s a sad, mad clown – Hamlet’s old man was a wise fool.

MEG

You mean –

DAVID

Yorick! The king’s jester – “Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft...” Get it? The “antic disposition”, the soldiers, the actors, the pirates, the grave diggers- these’re Hamlet’s people – this is “The Yorick Axis”!

(MEG rises; DAVID is transported, tries to stand! MEG embraces him.)

 MEG

The Yorick Axis: that’s a book, that’s an elegant meditation, that’s –

 DAVID

(loud)

Forget it!... “The rest is silence.”

MEG

You forget it, Levinski – you‘re not Prince Hamlet, not yet, you’re –

DAVID

I’m –

MEG

You’re the Shakespeare of East 87^th Street , and “this too, shall pass”!

DAVID

Oh, no, this one “shall not pass.” Not this clown. He’s going to make them wish they had Richard Nixon back again.

MEG

Ha! That’s good. Put it in the book.

DAVID

And you’ll type it all up?

MEG

I will.

DAVID

Like the Countess Tolstoy?

MEG

Exactly.

(They cannot help laughing softly.)

 Seriously...

DAVID

It’s unreadable, I can’t finish it.

MEG

Why not?

DAVID

I don’t know...  Because I’m not Tolstoy...

MEG

No, you’re Dostoevsky.

DAVID

Ah-hah, I don’t know.

MEG

(pause)

All right – how about Plan B?

DAVID

Suicide?

MEG

That’s Plan C. Plan B is your old friend, and mine, “One day at a time.”

DAVID

Ahh – “One Day at a Time.” Does that include, (Irish) “Do the Next Right Thing?”

MEG

Amen.

DAVID

And what would that be?

MEG

The next right thing? For you? You tell me.

DAVID

...For you, then.

MEG

Me? Well-for a start...Don’t go to Italy .

(They have to laugh again.)

DAVID

You still think about it?

MEG

Italy ?

DAVID

Sex.

MEG

Sex?

DAVID

Sex , Italy : same thing. El mismo.

MEG

That’s Spanish... Sex? I’m sixty-one years old.

DAVID

Oh, for Christ’s sake. (Irish) “You’re no age at all.”

MEG

As my mother would’ve said.

DAVID

...Do you?... Tom Quinn?

MEG

...Tom?

DAVID

I used to, ah, picture the two of you.

MEG

...I know.

DAVID

I know you did...Did you mind?

MEG

No.

(Silence.)

 DAVID

You know – if the Pater hadn’t – if my g’damn father’d left me anything, I’d give it all –

MEG

Don’t insult me, David.

DAVID

Every dirty dime. Because I –

MEG

Let’s have a cup of –

DAVID

Because I don’t intend to linger.

MEG

“Linger”? We’re supposed to be talking about today.

DAVID

Ahh, oh, “Today!”

MEG

January 20, 1981 .

DAVID

“Inauguration Day!” The day the shit-storm started.

MEG

Now you’re awake. Preach!

DAVID

Day One of the shit-storm--You don’t want to talk about you and Fred in Florence thirty-five years ago?

MEG

No.

David

No, you don’t want to hear my dream about that, then?

MEG

I don’t care what you dream about. I’m interested in what you write about.

DAVID

What if it’s the same thing?

MEG

All right – then write about it. If your dream is the next “right” thing, then write about it. I give you permission. (she takes his hand.) I give you my body and my soul. Take it! Take me – and tell my story: the whole Irish/American/Italian/ African/Jewish dream of it!

(He studies her with huge eyes, like a child.)

 DAVID

You – give me – “permission”?

MEG

...I give you everything... Tutto, ogni cosa.

(Their intimacy is complete: lovers, mother-child, friends, comrades. The building and street sounds sink towards silence.)

DAVID

Well... all right... go in and get my notebook, then--and a pencil...

(He will live. Meg has prevailed. Their laughter is deep and long.

 In the darkness, Woody Guthrie sings “This Land is Your Land”.)

 SCENE 6: January 2005, Noon

 The door to 4A stands open. Paraphernalia for painting David’s former apartment, including a small ladder, crowds the entranceway. It is twenty-five years since the last scene.

 Meg, aged 85, and Tom Guinn, 89, climb the last flight of stairs, pausing twice to catch their breath. Both use canes. Tom carries a bag of delicatessen. A heroic effort brings them up to the landing.

 On the landing, Tom waits while Meg goes into 4B. Then he follows her in to help bring out two chairs and TV tables.

 Below in the courtyard, an Irish Street Singer.

 They do not remove their overcoats because of the cold. T0m distributes the salads and sandwiches. MEG brings out cups for tea.

MEG

The kettle’s on.

(They sit, but do not begin to eat. Silence.)

 TOM

You certain that was Norman Mailer standing behind that, uh, big –

MEG

That was him.

 TOM

Well, why didn’t he say anything to you?

MEG

Who knows? Maybe he had nothing to say.

TOM

Mailer?

(They chuckle, then start to nibble at the food. A minute passes before the tea kettle whistles.)

 TOM

I’ll help you.

MEG

Sit still. Rest your leg.

(She enters her apartment.)

 TOM

(calling off)

It’s bad today.

(Meg returns with a teapot and pours the tea.)

 MEG

Would’ve been worse if you had to kneel.

(They laugh.)

TOM

No church for me. Doctor’s orders. (They laugh.) But it went off well. You arranged it just right.

MEG

How he would’ve hated it all.

TOM

Not the Woody Guthrie tape.

MEG

No.

TOM

“This land is your land...”

(Silence. Tea.)

 He loved you.

MEG

More tea?

TOM

I won’t say no. Well, you saved his life. And he knew it.

MEG

(pause)

He made me laugh.

TOM

(pause)

Is that why you stayed on here?

MEG

...Made me laugh.

(Pause. Tom watches her.)

TOM

You laughed like hell when he – that time when he said Clinton – during the sex thing – he said, um, a, Bill Clinton was Tom Sawyer pretending to be Huck Finn, and you – what the heck was that supposed to –

(She laughs again, hard. So does TOM.)

 MEG

And then he quoted Lear, didn’t he?

TOM

Who?

MEG

(laughing)

King Lear – “Adultery? Thou shalt not die for adultery...” He could make you laugh.

TOM

Hmm... What about me? I made you cry.

MEG

...You’re the one who saved his life.

TOM

Not me. A.A..

MEG

“One day at a time.”

TOM

One hour – now.

MEG

Literally.

TOM

(pause)

So, I’m the one who made you cry.

MEG

...You’re the one who made me walk the floor all night.

TOM

It was killing me, too. The guilt.

MEG

The “guilt.” The guilt is highly overrated. With me and guilt, it was – I was like a dog with a bone... (chuckles) Their wives never understood me.

TOM

What’s that? Who?

MEG

You didn’t think you were the only married man, did you?

TOM

...Oh.

MEG

Except for David.

 TOM

(pause)

I used to --

MEG

And Italy , a long time ago... That was my first child.

Tom

...What’s that? You had a –

MEG

The first child, I never had.

TOM

Wait a minute.

MEG

Then there was yours?

TOM

Mine?

MEG

Ours. The one we didn’t have. You remember, Tom – it cost you five hundred dollars and a trip to downtown Puerto Rico .

TOM

Jesus... But not with – never with Dave –

MEG

Tom – jealousy’s such a small trait... No, David aborted his novel, that’s all.

TOM

Why?

 MEG

(laughs)

He claimed he couldn’t finish it until he decided whether to spell America with a “C,” or a “K”...No, the babies were mine. And two more later. Quite a brood. Hmm?

TOM

Jesus... Oh, Jesus...

MEG

Never mind, Tommy, never mind...I had them – for a while – I carried them. They were mine – Sit down, now, please, Tommy, before you fall down.

(Slowly, he recovers, then looks at the ladder in front of 4A.)

TOM

Who’s moving in here?

MEG

I don’t know, but if he’s a drinker, you’ll be the one I call.

TOM

(pause)

Well, I’ll be dropping by.

MEG

You better.

(Tom looks into 4A. He begins a plea of love to MEG, with his back to her.)

TOM

Meg... I... We...

(Meg is looking out. She is somewhere else. Her lips are moving. Is she praying? Then she laughs softly and murmurs, “Ed Solomon...”

 TOM turns and realizes that Meg is, literally, recalling David, talking to him. And to her mother.)

MEG

...Tolstoy...Matthew Mark look at John...(singing softly) “...Just a wee drop that’s all...”

TOM

(a murmur)

Goodbye, Meg... God bless...

(Tom limps slowly, laboring to make no noise. He starts down the stairs while MEG is still communing with a lost world.

 Meg is alone. Her voice is very soft and vibrant.)

MEG

Basta, basta, troppo. (a young woman’s laugh) La Commedia – ancora, ancora!

(Standing and laughing softly with the joy of life of a young woman, unaware of the tears or the years.)

 

SCENE 7:  September 2006, 9 p.m.

 Meg, 86, sits in the half dark of the Indian summer evening, fanning herself slowly as she listens to a Chopin medley playing at a low volume in her apartment.

Sounds below, on the stairs, become a young man dragging suitcases up to the fourth landing. This will be Victor Gordon, 25. (To be portrayed by the actor playing DAVID).

 The new tenant does not see MEG sitting in the gloom until he almost stumbles over her.

VICTOR

Hah! Jesus!

(She half catches him, and holds on.)

 MEG

Careful. Watch your step.

VICTOR

...Ms. McNally?

MEG

Who else?

(They laugh a little.)

 VICTOR

I’ve heard all – I’ve heard all about you.

 MEG

Mm.

VICTOR

I’m Victor Gordon.

MEG

...What’s “Gordon.”

VICTOR

Gordon?

MEG

Scots?

VICTOR

I really don’t know. It’s made up. I’m Puerto Rican.

MEG

Puerto Rico ?...Tourist? Terrorist? – Ha-ha.

(Slowly, she begins to smile, and to relax.)

  Puerto Rico . A-ha – you would be... You must be an actor, then.

(They laugh a little.)

 VICTOR

Well – a dancer.

MEG

Come back, ah come a little closer... Mm: a Scots dancer from Puerto Rico ... It could be.

(More friendly laughter.)

 VICTOR

A Scotch dance student from –

MEG

I’ll make you some tea and you can tell me all about it. But first... First –

VICTOR

What?

 MEG

I’d like to see you dance.

VICTOR

(pause)

Now?

MEG

(pause)

Why not?

VICTOR

...I don’t –

MEG

Use the landing. The banister. The stairs. No one comes up here anymore. Use my music, use the Chopin...Use.

(They look at each other in the fading, late summer light from the skylight. Silence as the Chopin plays. Her power grips him.

 Then, Victor pushes his baggage aside and removes his shoes and socks.)

 MEG

That’s right... And your shirt... (he does)...Everything.

(Silence, except for the Chopin.)

I’m an 86-year-old woman, Victor – but I’m still a woman.

(He is frozen, until Meg limps to each wall lighting fixture and turns it off; returns to her chair, lays down her cane. Sits. Waits. The youth is in her spell.

Then, in the descending darkness, at last, the dancer completely disrobes and stands there on the stairs, looking up at MEG.)

 MEG

...That’s right... Now, dance for me... “The Dance of the New Tenant”... And then we’ll decide on what your name should be – Gordon, or Gonzales, or Ginsberg, whatever...

(They remain immobile as the music plays. Then, the youth backs down the stairs, out of sight for a moment.

Meg watches the empty steps until, suddenly, the dancer springs into sight and begins “The Dance of the New Tenant.”

The new tenant’s improvisation carries him, eventually, up the steps to the landing. There, he dances out the identity struggle of his new generation.

 With her body, from her chair, Meg urges him on.

VICTOR builds his progress to a climax: He throws open the door of 4A, David's old apartment. He faces the dark of the interior of 4A. Retreats, runs, fails to enter - )

MEG

Again! Ancora!  

(Meg stands.

The dancer gathers his powers: circles, feints, bluffs, retreats, again, and at the apogee of the music – flashes through the air – out of the last light and into the blackness of the waiting 4A.

Meg, where she stands, arches in ecstasy!)

 

the end