# The Vegetable: Or, from President to Postman/Act 2
## Act II

Any one who felt that the first Act was perhaps a little vulgar, will be glad to learn that we’re now on the lawn of the White House. Indeed, a corner of the Executive Mansion projects magnificently into sight, and steps lead up to the imposing swinging doors of a “Family Entrance.” From the window of the President’s office a flag flutters, and the awning displays this legend:
The White House
Jerry Frost, Pres.
And if you look hard enough at the office window you can see the President himself sitting at his desk inside.
The lawn, bounded by a white brick wall, is no less attractive. Not only are there white vines and flowers, a beautiful white tree, and a white table and chairs, but, also, a large sign over the gate, which bears the President’s name pricked out in electric bulbs.
Two white kittens are strolling along the wall, enjoying the ten-o’clock sunshine. A blond parrot swings in a cage over the table, and one of the chairs is at present occupied by a white fox-terrier puppy about the size of your hand.
That’s right. “Isn’t it darling!” We’ll let you watch it for a moment before we move into the Whirl of Public Affairs.
Look! Here comes somebody out. It’s Mr. Jones, the well-known politician, now secretary to President Frost. He has a white broom in his hands, and, after delighting the puppy with an absolutely white bone, he begins to sweep off the White House steps. At this point the gate swings open and Charlotte Frost comes in. As befits the first Lady of the Land, she is elaborately dressed—in the height of many fashions. She’s evidently been shopping—her arms are full of packages—but she has nevertheless seen fit to array herself in a gorgeous evening dress, with an interminable train. From her wide picture hat a plume dangles almost to the ground.
Mr. Jones politely relieves her of her bundles.
CHARLOTTE [abruptly]. Good morning, Mr. Jones. Has everything gone to pieces?
Mr. Jones looks her over in some surprise.
JONES [apologetically]. Well, perhaps the petticoat——
CHARLOTTE [a little stiffly]. I didn’t mention myself, I don’t think, Mr. Jones. I meant all my husband’s public affairs.
JONES. He’s been in his office all morning, Mrs. Frost. There are a lot of people waiting to see him.
CHARLOTTE. [She’s relieved.] I heard them calling an extra, and I thought maybe everything had gone to pieces.
JONES. No, Mrs. Frost, the President hasn’t made any bad mistake for some time now. Of course, a lot of people objected when he appointed his father Secretary of the Treasury; his father’s being so old——
CHARLOTTE. Well, I’ve had to stand for his family all my life—so I guess the country can. [Confidentially.]
JONES [a little embarrassed]. I see you’ve been shopping.
CHARLOTTE. I’ve been buying some things for my sister’s wedding reception this afternoon.
The window of President Frost’s office opens abruptly. A white cigar emerges—followed by Jerry’s hairless eyebrows—passionately knit.
JERRY. All right. Go on and yell—and then when I make some awful mistake and the country goes to pieces, blame it on me!
CHARLOTTE [very patiently]. Nagging me again. Picking on me. Pick—pick—pick! All day!
JERRY. Gosh, you can be disagreeable, Charlit!
CHARLOTTE. Pick—pick—pick!
JERRY [confused]. Pick?
CHARLOTTE [sharply]. Pick!
Jerry jams down his window.
Meanwhile from the window above has emerged a hand holding a mirror. The hand is presently followed by a head with the hair slicked back damply. Doris, sister-in-law to the President, is seeking more light for her afternoon toilet.
DORIS [disapprovingly]. I can hear you two washing your clothes in public all over the lawn.
CHARLOTTE. He keeps nagging at me.
Doris begins to apply a white lotion to her face. She daubs it at a freckle on her nose, and gazes passionately at the resultant white splotch.
DORIS [abstractedly]. I should think you’d get so you could stand him in public, anyways.
CHARLOTTE. He makes me madder in public than anywhere else.
She gathers her bundles and goes angrily into the White House. Doris glances down at Mr. Jones, and, deciding hastily that she is too publicly placid, withdraws her person from sight.
Jones picks up his broom and is about to go inside when a uniformed chauffeur opens the gate and announces:
“The Honorable Joseph Fish, Senator from Idaho.”
And now here’s Joseph Fish, in an enormous frock-coat and a tall silk hat, radiating an air of appalling prosperity.
FISH. Good morning, Mr. Jones. Is my fiancée around?
JONES. I believe she’s in her boudoir, Senator Fish. How is everything down at the capital?
FISH [gloomily]. Awful! I’m in a terrible position, Mr. Jones—and this was to have been my wedding reception day. Listen to this. [He takes a telegram from his pocket.] “Senator Joseph Fish, Washington, D. C. Present the State of Idaho’s compliments to President Frost and tell him that the people of Idaho demand his immediate resignation.”
JONES. This is terrible!
FISH. It’s because he made his father Secretary of the Treasury.
JONES. This will be depressing news to the President.
FISH. But think of me! This was to have been my wedding reception day. What will Doris say when she hears about this. I’ve got to ask her own brother-in-law to—to move out of his home?
JONES. Have a cocktail.
He takes a shaker and glasses from behind a porch pillar and pours out two drinks.
JONES. I saw this coming. But I’ll tell you now, Senator Fish, the President won’t resign.
FISH. Then it’ll be my duty to have him impeached.
JONES. Shall I call the President now?
FISH. Let’s wait until eleven o’clock. Give me one more hour of happiness. [He raises his eyes pathetically to the upper window.] Doris—oh Doris!
Doris, now fully dressed and under the influence of cosmetics, comes out onto the lawn. Mr. Jones, picking up the broom and the puppy, goes into the White House.
FISH [jealously]. Where were you all day yesterday?
DORIS [languidly]. An old beau of mine came to see me and kept hanging around.
FISH [in wild alarm]. Good God! What’d he say?
DORIS. He said I was stuck up because my brother-in-law was President, and I said: “Well, what if I am? I’d hate to say what your brother-in-law is.”
FISH [fascinated]. What is he?
DORIS. He owns a garbage disposal service.
FISH [even more fascinated]. Is that right? Can you notice it on his brother-in-law?
DORIS. Something awful. I wouldn’t of let him come in the house. Imagine if somebody came in to see you and said: “Sniff. Sniff. Who’s been sitting on these chairs?” And you said: “Oh, just my brother-in-law, the garbage disposal man.”
FISH. Doris—Doris, an awful thing has occurred——
DORIS [looking out the gate]. Here comes Dada. Say, he must be going on to between eighty and ninety years old, if not older.
FISH [gloomily]. Why did your brother-in-law have to go and make him Secretary of the Treasury? He might as well have gone to an old men’s home and said: “See here, I want to get eight old dumb-bells for my cabinet.”
DORIS. Oh, Jerry does everything all wrong. You see, he thought his father had read a lot of books—the Bible and the Encyclopædia and the Dictionary and all.
In totters Dada. Prosperity has spruced him up, but not to any alarming extent. The hair on his face is not under cultivation. His small, watery eyes gleam dully in their ragged ovals. His mouth laps faintly at all times, like a lake with tides mildly agitated by the moon.
FISH. Good morning, Mr. Frost.
DADA [dimly]. Hm.
He is under the impression that he has made an adequate response.
DORIS [tolerantly]. Dada, kindly meet my fiancé—Senator Fish from Idaho.
DADA [expansively]. Young man, how do you do? I feel very well. You wouldn’t think I was eighty-eight years old, would you?
FISH [politely]. I should say not.
DORIS. You’d think he was two hundred.
DADA [who missed this]. Yeah. [A long pause.] We used to have a joke when I was young—we used to say the first Frosts came to this country in the beginning of winter.
DORIS. Funny as a crutch.
DADA [to Fish]. Do you ever read the Scriptures?
FISH. Sometimes.
DADA. I’m the Secretary of the Treasury, you know. My son made me the Secretary of the Treasury. He’s the President. He was my only boy by my second wife.
DORIS. The old dumb-bell!
DADA. I was born in 1834, under the presidency of Andrew Jackson. I was twenty-seven years old when the war broke out.
DORIS [sarcastically]. Do you mean the Revolutionary War?
DADA [witheringly]. The Revolutionary War was in 1776.
DORIS. Tell me something I don’t know.
DADA. When you grow older you’ll find there are a lot of things you don’t know. [To Fish.] Do you know my son Jerry?
DORIS [utterly disgusted]. Oh, gosh!
FISH. I met your son before he was elected President and I’ve seen him a lot of times since then, on account of being Senator from Idaho and all, and on account of Doris. You see, we’re going to have our wedding reception this afternoon——
In the middle of this speech Dada’s mind has begun to wander. He utters a vague “Hm!” and moves off, paying no further attention, and passing through the swinging doors into the White House.
FISH [impressed in spite of himself by Dada’s great age]. He’s probably had a lot of experience, that old bird. He was alive before you were born.
DORIS. So were a lot of other old nuts. Come on—let’s go hire the music for our wedding reception.
FISH [remembering something with a start]. Doris—Doris, would you have a wedding reception with me if you knew—if you knew the disagreeable duty——
DORIS. Knew what?
FISH. Nothing. I’m going to be happy, anyways [he looks at his watch]—for almost an hour.
They go out through the garden gate.
And now President Jerry Frost himself is seen to leave his window and in a minute he emerges from the Executive Mansion. He wears a loose-fitting white flannel frock coat, and a tall white stovepipe hat. His heavy gold watch-chain would anchor a small yacht, and he carries a white stick, ringed with a gold band.
After rubbing his back sensuously against a porch pillar, he walks with caution across the lawn and his hand is on the gate-latch when he is hailed from the porch by Mr. Jones.
JONES. Mr. President, where are you going?
JERRY [uneasily]. I thought I’d go down and get a cigar.
JONES [cynically]. It doesn’t look well for you to play dice for cigars, sir.
Jerry sits down wearily and puts his hat on the table.
JONES. I’m sorry to say there’s trouble in the air, Mr. President. It’s what we might refer to as the Idaho matter.
JERRY. The Idaho matter?
JONES. Senator Fish has received orders from Idaho to demand your resignation at eleven o’clock this morning.
JERRY. I never liked that bunch of people they got out there in Idaho.
JONES. Well, I just thought I’d tell you—so you could think about it.
JERRY [hopefully]. Maybe I’ll get some idea how to fix it up. I’m a very resourceful man. I always think of something.
JONES. Mr. President, would you—would you mind telling me how you got your start?
JERRY [carelessly]. Oh, I got analyzed one day, and they just found I was sort of a good man and would just be wasting my time as a railroad clerk.
JONES. So you forged ahead?
JERRY. Sure. I just made up my mind to be President, and then I went ahead and did it. I’ve always been a very ambitious sort of—sort of domineerer.
Jones sighs and takes several letters from his pocket.
JONES. The morning mail.
JERRY [looking at the first letter]. This one’s an ad, I’ll bet. [He opens it.] “Expert mechanics, chauffeurs, plumbers earn big money. We fit you in twelve lessons.” [He looks up.] I wonder if there’s anything personal in that. If there is it’s a low sort of joke.
JONES [soothingly]. Oh, I don’t think there is.
JERRY [offended]. Anybody that’d play a joke like that on a person that has all the responsibility of being President, and then to have somebody play a low, mean joke on him like that!
JONES. I’ll write them a disagreeable letter.
JERRY. All right. But make it sort of careless, as if it didn’t matter to me.
JONES. I can begin the letter “Damn Sirs” instead of “Dear Sirs.”
JERRY. Sure, that’s the idea. And put something like that in the ending, too.
JONES. “Yours insincerely,” or something like that.... Now there’s a few people waiting in here to see you, sir. [He takes out a list.] First, there’s somebody that’s been ordered to be hung.
JERRY. What about him?
JONES. I think he wants to arrange it some way so he won’t be hung. Then there’s a man that’s got a scheme for changing everybody in the United States green.
JERRY [puzzled]. Green?
JONES. That’s what he says.
JERRY. Why green?
JONES. He didn’t say. I told him not to wait. And there’s the Ambassador from Abyssinia. He says that one of our sailors on leave in Abyssinia threw the king’s cousin down a flight of thirty-nine steps.
JERRY [after a pause]. What do you think I ought to do about that?
JONES. Well, I think you ought to—well, send flowers or something, to sort of recognize that the thing had happened.
JERRY [somewhat awed]. Is the king’s cousin sore?
JONES. Well, naturally he——
JERRY. I don’t mean sore that way. I mean did he—did he take it hard? Did he think there was any ill feeling from the United States Government in the sailor’s—action?
JONES. Why, I suppose you might say yes.
JERRY. Well, you tell him that the sailor had no instructions to do any such thing. Demand the sailor’s resignation.
JONES. And Major-General Pushing has been waiting to see you for some time. Shall I tell him to come out here?
JERRY. All right.
Jones goes into the White House and returns, announcing: “Major-General Pushing, U. S. A.”
Out marches General Pushing. He is accompanied at three paces by a fifer and drummer, who play a spirited march. When the General reaches the President’s table the trio halt, the fife and drum cease playing, and the General salutes.
The General is a small fat man with a fierce gray mustache. His chest and back are fairly obliterated with medals, and he is wearing one of those great shakos peculiar to drum-majors.
JERRY. Good morning, General Pushing. Did they keep you waiting?
GENERAL PUSHING [fiercely]. That’s all right. We’ve been marking time—it’s good for some of the muscles.
JERRY. How’s the army?
GENERAL PUSHING. Very well, Mr. President. Several of the privates have complained of headaches. [He clears his throat portentously.] I’ve called on you to say I’m afraid we’ve got to have war. I held a conference last night with two others of our best generals. We discussed the matter thoroughly, and then we took a vote. Three to nothing in favor of war.
JERRY [alarmed]. Look at here, General Pushing, I’ve got a lot of things on my hands now, and the last thing I want to have is a war.
GENERAL PUSHING. I knew things weren’t going very well with you, Mr. President. In fact, I’ve always thought that what this country needs is a military man at the head of it. The people are restless and excited. The best thing to keep their minds occupied is a good war. It will leave the country weak and shaken—but docile, Mr. President, docile. Besides—we voted on it, and there you are.
JERRY. Who is it against?
GENERAL PUSHING. That we have not decided. We’re going to take up the details to-night. It depends on—just how much money there is in the Treasury. Would you mind calling up your—father—[the General gives this word an ironic accentuation]—and finding out?
Jerry takes up the white telephone from the table. Jones meanwhile has produced the shaker and glasses. He pours a cocktail for every one—even for the fifer and drummer.
JERRY [at the ’phone]. Connect me with the Treasury Department, please....Is this the Treasury?...This is President Frost....Oh, I’m very well, thanks. No, it’s better. Much better. The dentist says he doesn’t think I’ll have to have it out now....Say, what I called you up about is to find how much money there is in the Treasury....Oh, I see....Oh, I see. Thanks. [He hangs up the receiver.]
JERRY [worried]. General Pushing, things seem to be a little confused over at the Treasury. Dada—the Secretary of the Treasury isn’t there right now—and they say nobody else knows much about it.
GENERAL PUSHING [disapprovingly]. Hm! I could put you on a nice war pretty cheap. I could manage a battle or so for almost nothing. [With rising impatience.] But a good President ought to be able to tell just how much we could afford.
JERRY [chastened]. I’ll find out from Dada.
GENERAL PUSHING [meaningly]. Being President is a sacred trust, you know, Mr. Frost.
JERRY. Well, I know it’s a sacred trust, don’t I?
GENERAL PUSHING [sternly]. Are you proud of it?
JERRY [utterly crestfallen]. Of course, I’m proud of it. Don’t I look proud? I’m proud as a pecan. [Resentfully.] What do you know about it, anyways? You’re nothing but a common soldier—I mean a common general.
GENERAL PUSHING [pityingly]. I came here to help you, Mr. Frost. [With warning emphasis.] Perhaps you are aware that the sovereign State of Idaho is about to ask your resignation.
JERRY [now thoroughly resentful]. Look at here, suppose you be the President for a while, if you know so much about it.
GENERAL PUSHING [complacently]. I’ve often thought that what this country needs is a military man at the head of it.
JERRY. All right, then, you just take off that hat and coat!
Jerry takes off his own coat. Jones rushes forward in alarm.
JONES. If there’s going to be a fight hadn’t we all better go into the billiard-room?
JERRY [insistently to General Pushing]. Take off that hat and coat!
GENERAL PUSHING [aghast]. But, Mr. President——
JERRY. Listen here—if I’m the President you do what I say.
General Pushing obediently removes his sword and takes off his hat and coat. He assumes a crouching posture and, putting up his fists, begins to dance menacingly around Jerry.
But, instead of squaring off, Jerry gets quickly into the General’s hat and coat and buckles on the sword.
JERRY. All right, since you know so much about being President, you put on my hat and coat and try it for a while.
The General, greatly taken aback, looks from Jerry to Jerry’s coat, with startled eyes. Jerry swaggers up and down the lawn, brandishing the sword. Then his eyes fall with distaste upon the General’s shirtsleeves.
JERRY. Well, what are you moping around for?
GENERAL PUSHING [plaintively]. Come on, Mr. President, be reasonable. Give me that coat and hat. Nobody appreciates a good joke any more than I do, but——
JERRY [emphatically]. No, I won’t give them to you. I’m a general, and I’m going to war. You can stay around here. [Sarcastically, to Mr. Jones.] He’ll straighten everything out, Mr. Jones.
GENERAL PUSHING [pleadingly]. Mr. President, I’ve waited for this war for forty years. You wouldn’t take away my coat and hat like that, just as we’ve got it almost ready.
JERRY [pointing to the shirtsleeves]. That’s a nice costume to be hanging around the White House in.
GENERAL PUSHING [brokenly]. I can’t help it, can I? Who took my coat and hat, anyhow?
JERRY. If you don’t like it you can get out.
GENERAL PUSHING [sarcastically]. Yes. Nice lot of talk it’d cause if I went back to the War Department looking like this. “Where’s your hat and coat, General?” “Oh, I just thought I’d come down in my suspenders this morning.”
JERRY. You can have my coat—and my troubles.
Charlotte comes suddenly out of the White House, and they turn startled eyes upon her, like two guilty schoolboys.
CHARLOTTE [staring]. What’s the matter? Has everything gone to pieces?
GENERAL PUSHING [on the verge of tears]. He took my coat and hat.
CHARLOTTE [pointing to the General]. Who is that man?
GENERAL PUSHING [in a dismal whine]. I’m Major-General Pushing, I am.
CHARLOTTE. I don’t believe it.
JERRY [uneasily]. Yes, he is, Charlit. I was just kidding him.
CHARLOTTE [understanding immediately]. Oh, you’ve been nagging people again.
JERRY [beginning to unbutton the coat]. The General was nagging me, Charlit. I’ve just been teaching him a lesson—haven’t I, General?
He struggles out of the General’s coat and into his own. The General, grunting his relief and disgust, re-attires himself in the military garment.
JERRY [losing confidence under Charlotte’s stare]. Honest, everything’s getting on my nerves. First it’s some correspondence school getting funny, and then he [indicating the General] comes around, and then all the people out in Idaho——
CHARLOTTE [with brows high]. Well, if you want to know what I think, I think everything’s going to pieces.
JERRY. No, it isn’t, Charlit. I’m going to fix everything. I’ve got a firm grip on everything. Haven’t I, Mr. Jones? I’m just nervous, that’s all.
GENERAL PUSHING [now completely buttoned up, physically and mentally]. In my opinion, sir, you’re a very dangerous man. I have served under eight Presidents, but I have never before lost my coat and hat. I bid you good morning, Mr. President. You’ll hear from me later.
At his salute the fife and drum commence to play. The trio execute about face, and the escort, at three paces, follows the General out the gate.
Jerry stares uneasily after them.
JERRY. Everybody’s always saying that I’m going to hear from ’em later. They want to kick me out of this job—that’s what they want. They think I don’t know.
JONES. The people elected you, Mr. President. And the people want you—all except the ones out in Idaho.
CHARLOTTE [anxiously]. Couldn’t you be on the safe side and have yourself reduced to Vice-President, or something?
A NEWSBOY [outside]. Extra! Extra! Idaho says: “Resign or be Impeached.”
JERRY. Was that newsboy yelling something about me?
CHARLOTTE [witheringly]. He never so much as mentioned you.
In response to Mr. Jones’s whistle a full-grown newsboy comes in at the gate. He hands Jerry a paper and is given a bill.
JERRY [carelessly]. Keep the change. It’s all right. I’ve got a big salary.
THE NEWSBOY [pointing to Jerry’s frock coat]. I almost had one of them dress suits once.
JERRY [not without satisfaction]. I got six of them.
THE NEWSBOY. I hadda get one so I could take a high degree in the Ku Klux. But I didn’t get one.
JERRY [absorbed in the paper]. I got six of ’em.
THE NEWSBOY. I ain’t got none. Well, much obliged. So long.
The newsboy goes out.
JONES [reading over Jerry’s shoulder]. It says: “Idaho flays Treasury choice.”
CHARLOTTE [wide-eyed]. Does that mean they’re going to flay Dada?
JONES [looking at his watch]. Senator Fish will be here at any moment now.
CHARLOTTE. Well, all I know is that I’d show some spunk and not let them kick me out, even if I was the worst President they ever had.
JERRY. Listen, Charlit, you needn’t remind me of it every minute.
CHARLOTTE. I didn’t remind you of it. I just mentioned it in an ordinary tone of voice.
She goes into the White House. Senator Joseph Fish comes in hesitantly through the gate.
JERRY [to Jones]. Here comes the State of Idaho.
FISH [timorously]. Good morning, Mr. President. How are you?
JERRY. Oh, I’m all right.
FISH [hurriedly producing the telegram and mumbling his words]. Got a little matter here, disagreeable duty. Want to get through as quickly as possible. “Senator Joseph Fish, Washington, D. C. Present the State of Idaho’s compliments to President Frost, and tell him that the people of Idaho demand his immediate resignation.” [He folds up the telegram and puts it in his pocket.] Well, Mr. President, I guess I got to be going. [He moves toward the gate and then hesitates.] This was to have been my wedding-reception day. Of course, Doris will never marry me now. It’s a very depressing thing to me, President Frost. [With his hand on the gate latch.] I suppose you want me to tell ’em you won’t resign, don’t you?
JONES. We won’t resign.
FISH. Well, then it’s only right to tell you that Judge Fossile of the Supreme Court will bring a motion of impeachment at three o’clock this afternoon.
He turns melancholy eyes on Doris’s window. He kisses his hand toward it in a tragic gesture of farewell. Then he goes out.
Jerry looks at Mr. Jones as though demanding encouragement.
JERRY. They don’t know the man they’re up against, do they, Mr. Jones?
JONES. They certainly do not.
JERRY [lying desperately and not even convincing himself]. I’ve got resources they don’t know about.
JONES. If you’ll pardon a suggestion, I think the best move you could make, Mr. President, would be to demand your father’s resignation immediately.
JERRY [incredulously]. Put Dada out? Why, he used to work in a bank when he was young, and he knows all about the different amounts of money.
A pause.
JERRY [uncertainly]. Do you think I’m the worst President they ever had?
JONES [considering]. Well, no, there was that one they impeached.
JERRY [consoling himself]. And then there was that other fellow—I forget his name. He was terrible. [Another disconsolate pause.] I suppose I might as well go down and get a cigar.
JONES. There’s just one more man out here to see you and he says he came to do you a favor. His name is—the Honorable Snooks, or Snukes, Ambassador from Irish Poland.
JERRY. What country’s that?
JONES. Irish Poland’s one of the new European countries. They took a sort of job lot of territories that nobody could use and made a country out of them. It’s got three or four acres of Russia and a couple of mines in Austria and a few lots in Bulgaria and Turkey.
JERRY. Show them all out here.
JONES. There’s only one. [He goes into the White House, returning immediately.]
JONES. The Honorable Snooks, or Snukes, Ambassador to the United States from Irish Poland.
The Honorable Snooks comes out through the swinging doors. His resemblance to Mr. Snooks, the bootlegger, is, to say the least, astounding. But his clothes—they are the clothes of the Corps Diplomatique. Red stockings enclose his calves, fading at the knee into black satin breeches. His coat, I regret to say, is faintly reminiscent of the Order of Mystic Shriners, but a broad red ribbon slanting diagonally across his diaphragm gives the upper part of his body a svelte, cosmopolitan air. At his side is slung an unusually long and cumbersome sword.
He comes in slowly, I might even say cynically, and after a brief nod at Jerry, surveys his surroundings with an appraising eye.
Jones goes to the table and begins writing.
SNOOKS. Got a nice house, ain’t you?
JERRY [still depressed from recent reverses]. Yeah.
SNOOKS. Wite, hey?
JERRY [as if he had just noticed it]. Yeah, white.
SNOOKS [after a pause]. Get dirty quick.
JERRY [adopting an equally laconic manner]. Have it washed.
SNOOKS. How’s your old woman?
JERRY [uneasily]. She’s all right. Have a cigar?
SNOOKS [taking the proffered cigar]. Thanks.
JERRY. That’s all right. I got a lot of them.
SNOOKS. That’s some cigar.
JERRY. I got a lot of them. I don’t smoke that kind myself, but I got a lot of them.
SNOOKS. That’s swell.
JERRY [becoming boastful]. See that tree? [The white tree.] Look, that’s a special tree. You never saw a tree like that before. Nobody’s got one but me. That tree was given to me by some natives.
SNOOKS. That’s swell.
JERRY. See this cane? The band around it’s solid gold.
SNOOKS. Is that right? I thought maybe it was to keep the squirrels from crawling up. [Abruptly.] Need any liquor? I get a lot, you know, on account of bein’ an ambassador. Gin, vermuth, bitters, absinthe?
JERRY. No, I don’t.... See that sign? I bet you never saw one like that before. I had it invented.
SNOOKS [bored]. Class. [Switching the subject.] I hear you made your old man Secretary of the Treasury.
JERRY. My father used to work in a——
SNOOKS. You’d ought to made him official Sandy Claus.... How you gettin’ away with your job?
JERRY [lying]. Oh, fine—fine! You ought to see the military review they had for me last week. Thousands and thousands of soldiers, and everybody cheered when they saw me. [Heartily.] It was sort of inspiring.
SNOOKS. I seen you plantin’ trees in the movies.
JERRY [excitedly]. Sure. I do that almost every day. That’s nothing to some of the things I have to do. But the thing is, I’m not a bit stuck up about any of it. See that gate?
SNOOKS. Yeah.
JERRY [now completely and childishly happy]. I had it made that way so that anybody passing by along the street can look in. Cheer them up, see? Sometimes I come out here and sit around just so if anybody passes by—well, there I am.
SNOOKS [sarcastically]. You ought to have yourself covered with radium so they can see you in the dark. [He changes his tone now and comes down to business.] Say, you’re lucky I found you in this morning. Got the time with you?
Jerry pulls out his watch. Snooks takes it as though to inspect it more closely.
Look here now, Mr. President. I got a swell scheme for you.
JERRY [trying to look keen]. Let’s hear it.
SNOOKS. You needn’t got to think now, just ’cause I’m a hunerd per cent Irish Pole, that I ain’t goin’ to do the other guy a favor once in a while. An’ I got somep’m smooth for you. [He puts Jerry’s watch in his own pocket—the nerve of the man!]
JERRY. What is it?
SNOOKS [confidentially]. Islands.
JERRY. What islands?
SNOOKS. The Buzzard Islands.
Jerry looks blank.
Ain’t you neva hearda the Buzzard Islands?
JERRY [apologetically]. I never was any good at geography. I used to be pretty good in penmanship.
SNOOKS [in horror]. You ain’t neva hearda the Buzzard Islands?
JERRY. It’s sort of a disagreeable name.
SNOOKS. The Buzzard Islands. Property of the country of Irish Poland. Garden spots. Flowery paradises ina middle of the Atlantic. Rainbow Islandsa milk an’ honey, palms an’ pines, smellin’ with good-smellin’ woods and high-priced spices. Fulla animals with million buck skins and with birds that’s got feathers that the hat dives on Fifth Avenue would go nuts about. The folks in ee islands—swell-lookin’, husky, square, rich, one hunerd per cent Buzzardites.
JERRY [startled]. You mean Buzzards?
SNOOKS. One hunerd per cent Buzzardites, crazy about their island, butter, milk, live stock, wives, and industries.
JERRY [fascinated]. Sounds sort of pretty, don’t it?
SNOOKS. Pretty? Say, it’s smooth! Now here’s my proposition, an’ take it from me, it’s the real stuff. [Impressively.] The country of Irish Poland wants to sell you the Buzzard Islands—cheap.
JERRY [Impressed]. You’re willing to sell ’em, eh?
SNOOKS. Listen. I’ll be fair with you. [I regret to say that at this point he leans close to Jerry, removes the latter’s stick pin and places it in his own tie.] I’ve handed you the swellest proposition ever laid before a President since Andrew Jackson bought the population of Ireland from Great Britain.
JERRY. Yeah?
SNOOKS [intently]. Take it from me, Pres, and snap it up—dead cheap.
JERRY. You’re sure it’s a good——
SNOOKS [indignantly]. Say, do you think an ambassador would tell you something that ain’t true?
JERRY [“man to man”]. That’s right, Mr. Snooks. I beg your pardon for that remark.
SNOOKS [touching his handkerchief to his eyes]. You hurt me, Pres, you hurt me, but I forgive you.
They shake hands warmly.
And now Jerry has an idea—a gorgeous idea. Why didn’t he think of it before? His voice literally trembles as he lays his plan before Snooks.
JERRY. Honorable Snooks, listen. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll—I’ll take those Islands and pay—oh, say a round million dollars for them, on one condition.
SNOOKS [quickly]. Done. Name your condition.
JERRY [breathlessly]. That you’ll let me throw in one of the States on the trade.
SNOOKS. What State?
JERRY. The State of Idaho.
SNOOKS. How much do you want for it?
JERRY [hastily]. Oh, I’ll just throw that in free.
Snooks indicates Mr. Jones with his thumb.
SNOOKS. Get him to take it down.
Jones takes pen in hand. During the ensuing conversation he writes busily.
JERRY [anxiously]. The State of Idaho is just a gift, see? But you got to take it.
Suddenly the Honorable Snooks realizes how the land lies. He looks narrowly at Jerry, marvelling at an opportunity so ready to his hand.
JERRY [to Jones]. Here, get this down. We agree to buy the Buzzard Islands from the nation of Irish Poland for one million——
SNOOKS [interrupting]. Two million.
JERRY. Two million dollars, on condition that Irish Poland will also incorporate into their nation the State of Idaho, with all its people. Be sure and get that, Jones. With all its people.
JONES. I have it. The State of Idaho and four hundred and thirty-one thousand, eight hundred and sixty-six people. Including colored?
JERRY. Yes, including colored.
SNOOKS [craftily]. Just a minute, Pres. This here State of Idaho is mostly mountains, ain’t it?
JERRY [anxiously]. I don’t know. Is it, Mr. Jones?
JONES. It has quite a few mountains.
SNOOKS [hesitating]. Well, now, I don’t know if we better do it after all——
JERRY [quickly]. Three millions.
SNOOKS. I’ll tell you, I’d like to pull it off for you, Pres, but you see a State like that has gotta have upkeep. You take one of them mountains, for instance. You can’t just let a mountain alone like you would a—a ocean. You got to—to groom it. You got to—to chop it down. You got to explore it. Now take that alone—you got to explore it.
JERRY [swallowing]. Four millions.
SNOOKS. That’s more like it. Now these Buzzard Islands don’t require no attention. You just have to let ’em alone. But you take the up-keep on a thing like the State of Idaho.
JERRY [wiping his brow]. Five millions.
SNOOKS. Sold! You get the Buzzard Islands and we get five million bucks and the State of Idaho.
JERRY. Got that down, Jones?
SNOOKS. On second thoughts——
JERRY [in a panic]. No, no, you can’t get out of it. It’s all down in black and white.
SNOOKS [resignedly]. Awright. I must say, Mr. President, you turned out to be a real man. When I first met you I wouldn’t have thought it, but I been pleasantly surprised.
He slaps Jerry heartily on the back. Jerry is so tickled at the solution of the Idaho problem that he feverishly seizes Snooks’s hand.
SNOOKS. And even if Irish Poland gets stung on the deal, we’ll put it through. Say, you and me ain’t politicians, fella, we’re statesmen, real statesmen. You ain’t got a cigarette about you, have you?
Jerry hands him his cigarette case. Snooks, after taking one, returns the case to his own pocket.
JERRY [enthusiastically]. Send me a post-card, Ambassador Snooks. The White House, City, will reach me.
SNOOKS. Post-card! Say, lay off. You and me are pals. I’d do anything for a pal. Come on down to the corner and I’ll buy you a cigar.
JERRY [to Mr. Jones]. I guess I can go out now for a while.
JONES. Oh, yes.
JERRY. Hang on to that treaty. And, say, when the Secretary of the Treasury wakes up tell him I’ve got to have five million dollars right away.
JONES. If you’ll just come into the office for a moment you can put your signatures on it right away.
Jerry and the Honorable Snooks go into the White House arm in arm, followed by Mr. Jones. Presently Jerry can be seen in the window of the President’s office.
A moment later the doors swing open again, this time for the tottering egress of Dada.
Dada, not without difficulty, arranges himself a place in the sun. He is preparing for his morning siesta, and, indeed, has almost managed to spread a handkerchief over his face when in through the gate comes Doris. Her eye falls on him and a stern purpose is born. Dada, seeing her approach, groans in anticipation.
DORIS. Dada, I want to speak to you.
Dada blinks up at her, wearily.
Dada, I want to tell you something for your own good and for Jerry’s good. You want Jerry to keep his position, don’t you?
DADA. Jerry’s a fine boy. He was born to my second wife in eighteen hundred and——
DORIS [interrupting impatiently]. Yes, I know he was. But I mean now.
DADA. No, I’ll never have any more children. Children are hard to raise properly.
This is aimed at her.
DORIS. Look at here, Dada. What I think is the best thing to do is to resign your position.
DADA. The——?
DORIS. You’re too old, you see, if you know what I mean. You’re sort of—oh, not crazy, but just sort of feeble-minded.
DADA [who has caught one word]. Yes, I’m a little feeble. [He dozes off.]
DORIS [absorbed in her thesis]. I don’t mean you’re crazy. Don’t get mad. I don’t mean you go around thinking you’re like Napoleon or a poached egg or anything like that, but you’re sort of feeble-minded. Don’t you understand, yourself? Sort of simple.
DADA [waking up suddenly]. How’s that?
DORIS [infuriated]. That’s just the sort of thing I was talking about! Going to sleep like that when a person’s trying to tell you something for your own son’s good. That’s just exactly what I mean!
DADA [puzzled but resentful]. I don’t like you. You’re a very forward young girl. Your parents brought you up very unsuccessfully indeed.
DORIS [smugly]. All right. You’re just making me think so more than ever. Go right ahead. Don’t mind me. Go right ahead. Then when you begin to really rave I’ll send for the lunatic-asylum wagon.
DADA [with an air of cold formality]. I’ll ask you to excuse me. [He wants to get to sleep.]
DORIS. First thing you know you’ll take all the money in the Treasury and hide it and forget where you put it.
DADA [succinctly]. There isn’t any money in the Treasury.
DORIS [after a stunned pause]. Just what do you mean by that statement?
DADA [drowsily]. There isn’t any money in the Treasury. There was seven thousand dollars left yesterday, but I worked from morning till night and now there isn’t one red penny in there.
DORIS. You must be crazy.
DADA. [He can scarcely keep awake.] Hm.
DORIS. Look at here! What do you mean—have you been spending that money—that doesn’t belong to you, you know—on some fast woman?
DADA [as usual, he doesn’t quite hear]. Yes, it’s all gone. I went down yesterday morning and I said to myself: “Horatio, you got only seven thousand dollars left, and you got to work from morning till night and get rid of it.” And I did.
DORIS [furious, but impressed at the magnitude of the crime]. How much was there altogether?
DADA. Altogether? I haven’t the figures with me.
DORIS. Why, you old dumb-bell, you. Imagine an old man your age that hasn’t had anything to do for twenty years but just sit around and think, going crazy about a woman at your age! [With scornful pity.] Don’t you know she just made a fool of you?
DADA [shaking his finger at her]. You must not talk like that. Be courteous and——
DORIS. Yes, and pretty soon some woman comes along and you get “courteous” with her to the extent of all the money in the Treasury.
DADA. Yes, that’s one thing that stood me in good stead. My mother used to say to me: “Horatio——”
DORIS [paying no attention to him]. What was her name?
DADA. Her name was Roxanna.
DORIS. Where did she get hold of you?
DADA. My mother?
DORIS. Your paramour.
DADA. She used to say to me: “Horatio——”
DORIS. She probably used to say a lot more than that! Oh, I know how they handle old men like you. I’ve seen a lot of that. Slush is what appeals to old men like you.
DADA. No—I said courtesy.
DORIS. You mean slush. What did she call you?—her old toodledums? And all that sort of thing? How perfectly disgusting!
Out comes Jerry now, just in time to catch Dada’s next remark, and to realize that there’s persecution in the air.
DADA [to Doris]. It’s been a hot day and I’ll ask you to excuse me. I never liked you, you know.
JERRY. Say, Doris, why can’t you leave Dada alone? He’s got more important things to think about than your new dresses and your silk stockings.
DORIS. Got something more important than silk stockings, has he? Ask him!
JERRY. Dada’s got a lot more to him than anybody ever gives him credit for, haven’t you, Dada?
DORIS [excitedly]. Yeah, yeah. All right. Wait till you hear what he’s done now. Wait till you hear. [To Dada.] Tell him what you did at your age. Some woman came up to him and said “Horatio—” [She gives an awe-inspiring imitation of a passionate woman.] and he said: “Here——”
JERRY [interrupting]. What woman did?
DORIS. Her name was Roxanna. Ask him where all the money in the Treasury is. At his age.
JERRY [in growing alarm]. Look at here, Doris——
DORIS. The—old—dumb-bell! I take back what I said about your not being really crazy. [To Jerry.] Look out, he’ll begin to rave. [She pretends to be alarmed.] Yes, Dada, you’re a poached egg. It’s all right. I’ll send for the lunatic-asylum wagon.
DADA. I’ve been working in the dark. I thought it best.
DORIS. You needn’t tell us all the disgusting details. Please respect my engagement. You must have bought her about everything in the world. No wonder I can’t get any good shoes in Washington. Jerry should have got you analyzed.
Jerry now begins to realize that something appalling has indeed happened. He sits down weakly.
DADA. I was working in the dark.
DORIS. Well, Jerry should of had you analyzed in the dark.
JERRY [suddenly]. Char-lit!
CHARLOTTE [at the upper window]. Stop screaming at me!
JERRY. Charlit, come on out here!
DORIS. Dada’s done something awful. At his age!
JERRY. Hurry up out, Charlit!
CHARLOTTE. You wouldn’t want me to come out in my chemise, would you?
DORIS. It wouldn’t matter. We’ll be kicked out, anyways.
CHARLOTTE. Has Dada been drinking?
DORIS. Worse than that. Some woman’s got ahold of him.
CHARLOTTE. Don’t let him go till I come down. I can handle him.
Mr. Jones comes out.
DADA [impressively]. I think the world is coming to an end at three o’clock.
DORIS [wildly]. We’ve got a maniac here. Go get some rope.
MR. JONES [in horror]. Are you going to hang him?
Out rushes Charlotte.
DADA. The United States was the wealthiest country in all the world. It’s easier for a camel to pass through a needle’s eye than for a wealthy man to enter heaven.
They all listen in expectant horror.
So all the money in the Treasury I have had destroyed by fire, or dumped into the deep sea. We are all saved.
JERRY. Do you mean to say that you haven’t even got five million dollars?
DADA. I finished it all up yesterday. It was not easy. It took a lot of resourcefulness, but I did it.
JERRY [in horror]. But I’ve got to have five million dollars this afternoon or I can’t get rid of Idaho, and I’ll be impeached!
DADA [complacently]. We’re all saved.
JERRY [wildly]. You mean we’re all lost!
He sinks disconsolately into a chair and buries his face in his hands. Charlotte, who knew everything would go to pieces, stands over him with an “I told you so” air. Doris shakes her finger at Dada, who shakes his finger vigorously back at her. Mr. Jones, with great presence of mind, produces the cocktail shaker and passes around the consoling glasses to the violently agitated household.
At two-thirty the horizontal sunlight is bright upon the White House lawn. Through the office window the President can be seen, bent over his desk in an attitude of great dejection. And here comes the Honorable Snooks through the gate, looking as if he’d been sent for. Mr. Jones hurries forth from the White House to greet him.
SNOOKS. Did you send for me, fella?
Jones [excitedly]. I should say we did, Honorable Snooks. Sit down and I’ll get the President.
As Mr. Jones goes in search of the President, Dada comes in through the gate at a triumphant tottering strut. He includes the Honorable Snooks in the splendor of his elation.
DADA [jubilantly]. Hooray! Hooray! I worked in the dark, but I won out!
SNOOKS [with profound disgust]. Well, if it ain’t Sandy Claus!
DADA. This is a great day for me, Mr.— You see the world is coming to an end.
SNOOKS. Well, Sandy Claus, everybody’s got a right to enjoy themselves their own way.
DADA. That’s in strict confidence, you understand.
SNOOKS. I wouldn’t spoil the surprise for nothin’.
Out rushes Jerry.
JERRY [in great excitement]. Honorable Snooks—Honorable Snooks——
DADA [suddenly]. Hooray! In at the finish.
He tries to slap the Honorable Snooks on the back, but the Honorable Snooks steps out of the way, and Dada loses his balance. Snooks and Jerry pick him up.
JERRY [suspiciously]. Dada, have you been drinking?
DADA. Just a little bit. Just enough to fortify me. I never touched a drop before to-day.
SNOOKS. You’re a naughty boy.
DADA. Yes, I think I’ll go in and rest up for the big event.
He wanders happily into the White House.
JERRY [in a hushed voice]. Honorable Snooks, Dada has done something awful.
SNOOKS [pointing after Dada]. Him?
JERRY. He took all the money in the Treasury and destroyed it.
SNOOKS. What type of talk is that? You tryin’ to kid me?
JERRY. You see, he’s a very religious man, Honorable Snooks——
SNOOKS. You mean you ain’t got five million for me. [Jerry shakes his head.] Good night! This is a swell country. A bunch of Indian givers!
JERRY. There’s no use cursing at me, Honorable Snooks. I’m a broken man myself.
SNOOKS. Say, can the sob stuff an’ call up the Treasury. Get ’em to strike off a couple billion dollars more. You’re the President, ain’t you?
Cheering up a little, Jerry goes to the telephone.
JERRY. Give me the Treasury Department....Say, this is President Frost speaking. I just wanted to ask you if you couldn’t strike off a little currency, see? About—about five million dollars, see? And if you didn’t know whose picture to put on ’em you could put my picture on ’em, see? I got a good picture I just had taken....You can’t strike any off?...Well, I just asked you....Well, I just thought I’d ask you....Well, no harm done—I just asked you—it didn’t hurt to ask, did it? [He rings off despondently.] It didn’t hurt ’em to ask.
SNOOKS. Nothin’ doin’, eh?
In comes Mr. Jones.
JONES. It’s all over, Mr. President. I’ve just received word that Chief Justice Fossile of the Supreme Court, accompanied by the Senate Committee on Inefficiency, is on his way to the White House.
Jerry sits down, completely overcome. Jones retires.
SNOOKS. They goin’ to throw you out on your ear, eh?
JERRY [brooding]. It’s that low, mean bunch of people out in Idaho.
Snooks, who has been ruminating on the situation, comes to a decision.
SNOOKS. Look at here, Mr. President, I’m goin’ to help you out. I’ll pass up that five million bucks and we’ll make a straight swap of the Buzzard Islands for the State of Idaho.
JERRY [in amazement]. You’ll give me the Buzzard Islands for the State of Idaho?
Snooks nods. Jerry wrings his hand in great emotion.
At this point Charlotte comes out of the White House. At the sight of the Honorable Snooks a somewhat disapproving expression passes over her face.
JERRY [excitedly]. Charlit—Charlit. This gentleman has saved me.
CHARLOTTE [suspiciously]. Who is he?
JERRY. His name is The Honorable Snooks, Charlit.
SNOOKS [under Charlotte’s stern eye]. Well, I guess I got to be goin’.
CHARLOTTE. Won’t you stay for my husband’s impeachment? We’re having a few people in.
Out comes Doris, accompanied by Dada. Dada is in such a state of exultation that much to Doris’s annoyance he is attempting a gavotte with her.
DORIS [repulsing him]. Say, haven’t I got enough troubles having to throw over my fiancé, without having you try to do your indecent old dances with me?
Dada sits down and regards the heavens with a long telescope.
Jerry has now recovered his confidence and is marching up and down waving his arms and rehearsing speeches under his breath. Snooks taps Dada’s head and winks lewdly at Charlotte and Doris.
DORIS. Honestly, everybody seems to be going a little crazy around here. Is Jerry going to be fired or isn’t he?
CHARLOTTE. He says he isn’t, but I don’t believe him for a minute.
Jones comes out, followed by an excitable Italian gentleman with long, musical hair.
JONES. This gentleman said he had an appointment with Miss Doris.
JERRY. Who are you?
THE GENTLEMAN. I am Stutz-Mozart’s Orang-Outang Band. I am ordered to come here with my band at three o’clock to play high-class jazz at young lady’s wedding reception.
DORIS. I remember now. I did order him. It’s supposed to be the best jazz band in the country.
JERRY [to Stutz-Mozart]. Don’t you know there’s going to be a big political crisis here at three o’clock?
DORIS. We can’t use you now, Mr. Stutz-Mozart. Anyways, I had to throw over my fiancé on account of political reasons.
STUTZ-MOZART [indignantly]. But I have my orang-outang band outside.
CHARLOTTE [her eyes staring]. Real orang-outangs?
DORIS. Of course not. They just call it that because they look kind of like orang-outangs. And they play kind of like orang-outangs, sort of. I mean the way orang-outangs would play if they knew how to play at all.
JERRY [to Stutz-Mozart]. Well, you’ll have to get them away from here. I can’t have a lot of senators and judges coming in and finding me with a bunch of men that look like orang-outangs.
STUTZ-MOZART. But I have been hired to play.
JERRY. Yes, but what do you think people would say? They’d say: Yes, here’s a fine sort of President we’ve got. All his friends look sort of like orang-outangs.
STUTZ-MOZART. You waste my time. You pay me or else we play.
JERRY. Look at here. If you’re one of these radical agitators my advice to you is to go right back where you came from.
STUTZ-MOZART. I came from Hoboken.
He goes threateningly out the gate.
JONES [announcing from the steps]. Chief Justice Fossile of the Supreme Court, accompanied by a committee from the Senate!
CHARLOTTE [to Jerry]. Speak right up to them. Show them you’re not just a vegetable.
Here they come! Chief Justice Fossile, in a portentous white wig, is walking ponderously at the head of the procession. Five of the six Senators who follow him are large, grave gentlemen whose cutaway coats press in their swollen stomachs. Beside them Senator Fish seems frail and ineffectual.
The delegation comes to a halt before Jerry, who regards it defiantly, but with some uneasiness.
JUDGE FOSSILE. To the President of the United States—greetings.
JERRY [nervously]. Greetings yourself.
Mr. Jones has provided chairs, and the Senators seat themselves in a row, with Judge Fossile in front. Fish looks miserably at Doris. The Honorable Snooks lurks in the shadow of the Special Tree.
JUDGE FOSSILE. Mr. President, on the motion of the gentleman from Idaho—[He points to Fish, who tries unsuccessfully to shrink out of sight.] we have come to analyze you, with a view to impeachment.
JERRY [sarcastically]. Oh, is that so? [He looks for encouragement at Charlotte. Charlotte grunts.]
JUDGE FOSSILE. I believe that is the case, Senator Fish?
FISH [nervously]. Yes, but personally I like him.
CHARLOTTE. Oh, you do, do you? [She nudges Jerry.] Speak right up to them like that.
JERRY. Oh, you do, do you?
JUDGE FOSSILE. Remove that woman!
No one pays any attention to his request.
JUDGE FOSSILE. Now, Mr. President, do you absolutely refuse to resign on the request of the Senator from Idaho?
JERRY. You’re darn right I refuse!
JUDGE FOSSILE. Well, then, I——
At this point Mr. Stutz-Mozart’s Orang-Outang Band outside of the wall launches into a jovial jazz rendition of “Way Down upon the Suwanee River.” Suspecting it to be the national anthem, the Senators glance at each other uneasily, and then, removing their silk hats, get to their feet, one by one. Even Judge Fossile stands at respectful attention until the number dies away.
JERRY. Ha-ha! That wasn’t “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
The Senators look confused.
DORIS [tragically]. This was to have been my wedding reception day.
Senator Fish begins to weep softly to himself.
JUDGE FOSSILE [angrily to Jerry]. This is preposterous, sir! You’re a dangerous man! You’re a menace to the nation! We will proceed no further. Have you anything to say before we vote on the motion made by the State of Idaho?
CHARLOTTE. Yes, he has. He’s got a whole mouthful!
DORIS. This is the feature moment of my life. Cecil B. Demille would shoot it with ten cameras.
JUDGE FOSSILE. Remove these women.
The women are not removed.
JERRY [nervously]. Gentlemen, before you take this step into your hands I want to put my best foot forward. Let us consider a few aspects. For instance, for the first aspect let us take, for example, the War of the Revolution. There was ancient Rome, for example. Let us not only live so that our children who live after us, but also that our ancestors who preceded us and fought to make this country what it is!
General applause.
And now, gentlemen, a boy to-day is a man to-morrow—or, rather, in a few years. Consider the winning of the West—Daniel Boone and Kit Carson, and in our own time Buffalo Bill and—and Jesse James!
Prolonged applause.
Finally, in closing, I want to tell you about a vision of mine that I seem to see. I seem to see Columbia—Columbia—ah—blindfolded—ah—covered with scales—driving the ship of state over the battle-fields of the republic into the heart of the golden West and the cotton-fields of the sunny South.
Great applause. Mr. Jones, with his customary thoughtfulness, serves a round of cocktails.
JUDGE FOSSILE [sternly]. Gentlemen, you must not let yourselves be moved by this man’s impassioned rhetoric. The State of Idaho has moved his impeachment. We shall put it to a vote——
JERRY [interrupting]. Listen here, Judge Fossile, a state has got to be part of a country in order to impeach anybody, don’t they?
JUDGE FOSSILE. Yes.
JERRY. Well, the State of Idaho doesn’t belong to the United States any more.
A general sensation. Senator Fish stands up and sits down.
JUDGE FOSSILE. Then who does it belong to?
SNOOKS [pushing his way to the front]. It belongs to the nation of Irish Poland.
An even greater sensation.
JERRY. The State of Idaho is nothing but a bunch of mountains. I’ve traded it to the nation of Irish Poland for the Buzzard Islands.
Mr. Jones hands the treaty to Judge Fossile.
FISH [on his feet]. Judge Fossile, the people of Idaho——
SNOOKS. Treason! Treason! Set down, fella! You’re a subject of the nation of Irish Poland.
JERRY [pointing to Fish]. Those foreigners think they can run this country.
The other Senators shrink away from Fish.
JUDGE FOSSILE [to Fish]. If you want to speak as a citizen of the United States, you’ll have to take out naturalization papers.
SNOOKS. I won’t let him. I’m goin’ to take him with me. He’s part of our property.
He seizes the indignant Fish firmly by the arm and pins a large “Sold” badge to the lapel of his coat.
DORIS [heartily]. Well, I’m certainly glad I didn’t marry a foreigner.
Just at this point, when Jerry seems to have triumphed all around, there is the noise of a fife and drum outside, and General Pushing marches in, followed by his musical escort. The General is in a state of great excitement.
GENERAL PUSHING. Mr. President, I am here on the nation’s business!
THE SENATORS. Hurrah!
GENERAL PUSHING. War must be declared!
THE SENATORS. Hurrah!
JERRY. Who is the enemy?
GENERAL PUSHING. The enemy is the nation of Irish Poland!
All eyes are now turned upon Snooks, who looks considerably alarmed.
GENERAL PUSHING [raising his voice]. On to the Buzzard Islands!
THE SENATORS. Hurrah! Hurrah! Down with Irish Poland!
JUDGE FOSSILE. Now, Mr. President, all treaties are off!
GENERAL PUSHING [looking scornfully at Jerry]. He tried to trade the State of Idaho for some islands full of Buzzards. Bah!
THE SENATORS. Bah!
SNOOKS [indignantly]. What’s ee idea? Is this a frame-up to beat the nation of Irish Poland outa their rights? We want the State of Idaho. You want the Buzzard Islands, don’t you?
GENERAL PERSHING. We can take them by force. We’re at war. [To the Senators.] We’ve ordered all stuffed Buzzards to be removed from the natural history museums. [Cheers.] And domestic Buzzards are now fair game, both in and out of season. [More cheers.] Buzzard domination would be unthinkable.
JUDGE FOSSILE [pointing to Jerry]. And now, Senators. How many of you vote for the impeachment of this enemy of the commonwealth?
The five Senators stand up.
JUDGE FOSSILE [to Jerry]. The verdict of a just nation. Is there any one here to say why this verdict should not stand?
Dada, who all this time has been absorbed in the contemplation of the heavens, suddenly throws down his telescope with a crash.
DADA [in a tragic voice]. It’s too late!
ALL. Too late?
DADA. Too late for the world to end this afternoon. I must have missed the date by two thousand years. [Wringing his hands.] I shall destroy myself!
Dada tries to destroy himself. He produces a pistol, aims at himself, and fires. He flounders down—but he has missed.
DORIS [standing over him and shaking her finger]. You miss everything! I’m going to send for the lunatic-asylum wagon—if it’ll come!
DADA [shaking his finger back at her]. Your parents brought you up very unsuccessfully——
JUDGE FOSSILE. Silence! I will pronounce sentence of impeachment on this enemy of mankind. Look upon him!
They all look dourly at Jerry.
Now, gentlemen, the astronomers tell us that in the far heavens, near the southern cross, there is a vast space called the hole in the sky, where the most powerful telescope can discover no comet nor planet nor star nor sun.
They all look very cold and depressed. Jerry shivers. Fish picks up Dada’s abandoned telescope and begins an eager examination of the firmament.
In that dreary, cold, dark region of space the Great Author of Celestial Mechanism has left the chaos which was in the beginning. If the earth beneath my feet were capable of expressing its emotions it would, with the energy of nature’s elemental forces, heave, throw, and project this enemy of mankind into that vast region, there forever to exist in a solitude as eternal as—as eternity.
When he finishes a funereal silence falls.
JERRY [his voice shaken with grief]. Well, Judge, all I’ve got to say is that no matter what you’d done I wouldn’t want to do all those things to you.
JUDGE FOSSILE [thunderously]. Have you anything more to say?
JERRY [rising through his defeat to a sort of eloquent defiance]. Yes. I want to tell you all something. I don’t want to be President. [A murmur of surprise.] I never asked to be President. Why—why, I don’t even know how in hell I ever got to be President!
GENERAL PUSHING [in horror]. Do you mean to say that there’s one American citizen who does not desire the sacred duty of being President? Sir, may I ask, then, just what you do want?
JERRY [wildly]. Yes! I want to be left alone.
Outside the wall Mr. Stutz-Mozart’s Orang-Outang Band strikes up “The Bee’s Knees.” The Senators arise respectfully and remove their hats, and General Pushing, drawing his sword, stands at the salute.
Four husky baggage smashers stagger out of the White House with the trunks of the Frost family, and hurry with them through the gate. Half a dozen assorted suitcases are flung after the trunks.
The music continues to play, the Senators continue to stand. The Frost family gaze at their departing luggage, each under the spell of a different emotion.
Charlotte is the first to pick up her grip. As she turns to the Senators, the music sinks to pianissimo, so her words are distinctly audible.
CHARLOTTE. If it’s any satisfaction to you, I’m going to be a different wife to him from now on. From now on I’m going to make his life perfectly miserable.
Charlotte goes out to a great burst of jazz. Dada, with some difficulty, locates his battered carpet-bag.
DADA. I find I missed the date by two thousand years. Eventually I will destroy myself.
Dada is gone now, hurried out between two porters, and Doris is next. With dignity she selects her small but arrogant hand-bag.
DORIS. All I want to say is if Cecil B. Demille ever saw the White House he’d say: “All right, that may do for the gardener’s cottage. Now I’ll start building a real house.”
As she leaves she tries desperately to walk out of step with the music and avoid the suggestion of marching. The attempt is not altogether successful.
President Jerry Frost now picks up his bag.
JERRY [defiantly]. Well, anyways I showed you you couldn’t put anything over on me. [Glancing around, his eye falls on the “Special Tree.” He goes over and pulls it up by the roots.] This was given to me by some natives. That sign’s mine, too. I had it invented. [He pauses.] I guess you think I wasn’t much good as a President, don’t you? Well, just try electing me again.
GENERAL PUSHING [sternly]. We won’t! As a President you’d make a good postman.
At this sally there is a chorus of laughter.
Then Charlotte’s voice again. Does it come from outside the gate, or, mysteriously enough, from somewhere above?
CHARLOTTE [very distinctly]. Shut the door! I can smell that stuff up here!
A bewildered look comes into Jerry’s eyes. He says “What?” in a loud voice.
Then with the tree in one hand and his grip in the other, he is hurried, between two porters, briskly toward the gate, while the Orang-Outang Band crashes into louder and louder jazz and
THE CURTAIN FALLS