MUSIC CUES - 3 -

(CUE).....I tries to be good, but gets nothin' but trouble.

MAN: Trouble, trouble, I has 'em all my days.
Trouble, trouble, has 'em all my days.
Seems like trouble's gonna drive me to my grave.

(CUE).....Gypsy says I'd kill myself, if I was you.

I'm goin' down to the railroad, etc.

(Cue).....The ones I love, they always treats me mean.

Oh, you mens treats woman
Just like a old pair o' shoes, etc.

(CUE).....It's the next day now.

HUSBAND: I was so sick last night, I
didn't hardly know my mind....etc.

(CUE).....Sit down and lemme tell you, for

WOMAN: (RECITES)
I'm standing here today, etc.

(INCIDENTAL MUSIC ACCOMPANYING ENTIRE POEM)

A NOTE ON THIS PLAY:

"DON'T YOU WANT TO BE FREE?" was first produced by the Harlem Suitcase Theatre where it was performed 135 times in 1937-1938, the record for a Harlem run of any play. The play was published in "The One-Act Play Magazine," October, 1938. Since that time it has been performed by college and little theatre groups in Los Angeles, Chicago, Pittsburgh, New Orleans, at Wilberforce and Talladega colleges, at Howard University in Washington, D.C., and elsewhere.

Without scenery, the play may be done in "theatre-in-the-round" or on a regular stage. There should be no waits between episodes, no breaks, one scene walking into the other, as a continuous panorama of the emotional history of the Negro from Africa to the present.

Langston Hughes

The OVERSEER, as a symbol of
oppression and prejudice,
plays many parts—with
slight changes of costume.

DON'T YOU WANT TO BE FREE?

spotlights.

SETTING:

A bare stage, except for a lynch rope
and an auction block. No scenery and
very few props. No special lighting,
Only actors needed---and an audience.
There is no curtain, so a YOUNG MAN
simply comes forward and begins to
speak:

YOUNG MAN

Listen, folks! I'm one of the members of this group, and I want to tell you about our theatre. This is it right here! We haven't got any scenery, or painted curtains, because we haven't got any money to buy them. But we've got something you can't buy with money, anyway. We've got faith in ourselves. And in you. So we're going to put on a show. Maybe you'll like it because it's about you, and about us. This show is for you. And you can act in it, too, if you want to. This is your show, as well as ours.

Now, I'll tell you what this show is about. It's about me, except that it's not just about me now standing here talking to you. It's about me yesterday, and about me tomorrow. I'm colored, I guess you can see that. Well, this show is about what it means to be colored in America.
Listen:

(Crash of cymbals)

I am a Negro:

Dark as the night is dark,
Dark as the depths of my Africa.

I've been a slave:

Caesar told me to keep his door-steps clean.
I brushed the boots of Washington.

I've been a worker:

Under my hand the pyramids arose.
I made mortar for the Woolworth Building.

I've been a singer:

All the way from Africa to Georgia
I carried my sorrow songs.
I made ragtime.

I've been a victim:

The Belgians cut off my hands in the Congo.
They lynch me now in Texas.

mobs stone me now in Mississippi.

-3-

## GIRL (cont'd)

A tall slim tree,
Night coming tenderly
Dark like me.

(THE BOY had drawn near THE GIRL and stands before her. SHE looks at him, takes his hands, and THEY gaze into each other's eyes)

## YOUNG MAN

I guess I was like that boy a long time ago, when we lived in Africa, and the sun was our friend. I guess I was crazy about that girl that I met at night in the moonlight under the palm trees.

(Roll of drums, like thunder!
THE BOY and GIRL run away, right.
THE YOUNG MAN speaks to the audience)

I was Africa then
But the white men came.
I was in my own land, then.
But the white men came.

They drove me out of the forest
They took me away from the jungles
I lost my trees.
I lost my silver moons.
They've caged me now
In the circus of civilization.
Now I'm in a cage
In their circus of civilization.

In 1619 the first slaves came to Jamestown, brought in chains in sailing vessels to America.

(Enter right FOUR SLAVES: BOY, GIRL, OLD MAN and WIFE chained by the wrists together. THEY walk in a straight line---meaning musically across the stage. THE YOUNG MAN joins them. THEY are followed by an OVERSEER with a whip in hand. ALL exit left except THE GIRL and OVERSEER. THE GIRL mounts the slave-block, wild-eyed and frightened)

## OVERSEER

Get along now! Get on! Step along there!
(Approaching auction block)

-4-

OVERSEER (cont'd)

Folks, look here what I got! A nice healthy black gal,
folks! Wild! Ain't trained, but a little of this will
break her in.

(Holds up his whip)

Congo women can't be beat for working, and she's a Congo
woman. Good for house or fields. Look at them legs, wiry
and strong.

(Feels her legs)

Look at them hands. Long fingers, just right for picking
cotton.

(To the Girl)

Open your mouth, gal!

(Punches her with whipstock)

Open your mouth.

(GIRL opens her mouth)

See! Healthy!

(With a leer)

This girl's all right for most anything. What am I offered
for her, gentlemen? Speak up! Make your bids. What am
I offered for her?

VOICE

One hundred dollars.

OVERSEER

Heh? One hundred dollars! What? That ain't a starter!
What am I offered for her, gentlemen? I got a hundred.

VOICE

One hundred fifty.

OVERSEER

One hundred fifty! Hundred fifty! Good for cooking, washing, hoeing, anything you want.

VOICE

Two hundred!

OVERSEER

That's more like it!

Two hundred!

Two...

VOICE

Two hundred ten.

VOICE

Two hundred twenty.

VOICE

Two hundred fifty.

-11-

MAN

The South! Honey, the South's so pretty, magnolia trees
and cotton, but sometimes it's bad, too. So evil and bad.

(Enter OVERSEER bringing chair)

WOMAN

The white folks won't pay us nothing, that's the trouble.
Besides the Jim Crow cars, and the Jim Crow schools, and
the lynchings—when you work, they don't pay you nothing.

MAN

That's what happened to Wilbur, our boy! All over a little
mite o' money.

WOMAN

Yes, that's what happened to Wilbur. He went to ask the
man for his money—and they killed him.

(On the left, THE OVERSEER sits
in a chair tilted back, smoking
a big cigar. Enter THE YOUNG MAN,
right, crosses left)

YOUNG MAN

Mr. Mallory, the crop's all sold, ain't it? Can you gimme
my part now?

OVERSEER

Your part? What you mean your part, George?

YOUNG MAN

I mean my money that you owe me.

OVERSEER

You better be careful how you use that word *owe*, boy. I
don't owe you nothing.

YOUNG MAN

(Trying to restrain himself)

But I raised nine bales, Mr. Mallory. And my contract
calls...

OVERSEER

Your contract? Hell! What about my bills? What about
the commissary store? What about that sow belly and corn
meal I been advancing you all the year for you and your
lazy old woman, and them kids of yours that you thinks too
good to work in the cotton fields? Trying to send picka-
ninnies to school! Huh! You're an uppity black boy, any-
how. Talkin' 'bout what I owe you! Why, even after nine
bales was sold you owed me more'n a hundred dollars...

-12-

OVERSEER (cont'd)

Why, you ungrateful scoundrel! Get on back there in that
field and start plowin' for next year's crop!

YOUNG MAN

Mr. Mallory, I ain't goin'. Not till I see the figures.

OVERSEER

You ain't goin'? What you mean you ain't goin'? Don't
glass talk back to me!

YOUNG MAN

I ain't goin'. I'm tired o' workin' for nothin'.

OVERSEER

(Rising)

Are you trying to say I don't pay my field hands? Get out
o' here. You impudent black cuss, you! Get out o' here!

YOUNG MAN

No, sir, Mr. Mallory, not without my money.

OVERSEER

You impudent dog! Get out o' here before I beat the hell
out o' you!

YOUNG MAN

No!

(THE OVERSEER walks up to THE YOUNG MAN and hits him in the mouth. THE YOUNG MAN stands as if in a daze. Then he suddenly deals THE OVERSEER a blow that sends him reeling unconscious to the floor. There is a crash of cymbals. Whistles. The far-off cry of a mob and dogs. THE MOTHER and FATHER are terror-stricken. THE YOUNG MAN looks for a place to hide. There is no hiding place)

MAN

Hurry, son, hurry! They gonna kill you!

WOMAN

Run, Wilbur! Oh, honey, run! Go the swamp way, so's the
dogs can't smell no tracks! Run!

MAN

Hurry! Hurry! Hurry, Son, hurry!

-13-

YOUNG MAN

There ain't no place to run!

(Darts wildly about)

I hit the white man. I done hit the boss! And there ain't no place to run. Nobody helps me. Nobody to protect me.

(He approaches the lynch rope that dangles from the sky and puts his head into the noose, lynched)

I know it! You got me! All you crackers got me! Dead!
I'm dead!

(His body slumps, so it dead.)

NEWSBOYS enter hawking papers)

NEWSBOYS

Negro lynched in Alabama! Big lynching near Selma! Read all about it! Read about the lynching! Big lynching!

(THE PARENTS stand beside the hanging youth as NEWSBOYS exit)

WOMAN

My boy is dead.

MAN

Damn the ones what kilt him! Damn their souls to hell!

WOMAN

John, my boy is dead, I'm all alone -- and my boy is dead!

(Begins to sing):

I couldn't hear nobody pray.
Oh, Lawday! Couldn't hear nobody pray.
Way down yonder by myself,
I couldn't hear nobody pray!

(Enter young MULATTO GIRL, who sits down beside hanging body, center)

MULATTO GIRL

Way down South in Dixie,
Break the heart of me!
They hung my dark young lover
To a crossroad's tree.

Way down South in Dixie,
Bruised body high in air,
I ask the white Lord Jesus
What was the use of prayer.

Way down South in Dixie,
Break the heart of me.

-18-

WIFE (cont'd)

I say, the blues ain't nothin' but
The dog-gone heart's disease.
When you got the blues, you
Sho' can't find no ease.

(Sighs)

I got the blues, too. Reckon I'll run down the street a
minute, see can I walk 'em off!

(She dresses and powders to exit
later from her dreary flat. At
left, undressing in a dark hall
bedroom, THE BOY answers, too)

BOY

I got the blues. Guess I'll go to bed. Maybe I can sleep
'em off.

YOUNG MAN

The blues is songs folks make up when their hearts hurt.
That's what the blues is. Sad funny songs. Too sad to be
funny, and too funny to be sad.

(Exit WOMAN)

Colored folks made up the blues! Listen!

(Loudly a piano beats out blues)

BOY

I got the Weary Blues
And I can't be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can't be satisfied---
I ain't happy no mo'
And I wish that I had died.

(But the PIANO PLAYER keeps on
playing softly in the night)

YOUNG MAN

You see, that's the blues.

(At right a HUSBAND comes home
from work and throws his hat and
dinner pail on the table)

Sometimes there's the family blues.

God-dog it!

-22-

(Exit HUSBAND, right, WIFE, left)

YOUNG MAN

Colored folks made the blues! Now everybody sings 'em.
We made 'em out of being poor and lonely. And homes
busted up, and desperate and broke.

(Rises)

But me, I haven't got any blues! I got a little job, not
much.

(Leans against wall)

Got a little time to stand on the corner at night and
watch the girls go by! Boy, these Harlem girls've sure
got it! Looky yonder!

(Enter a very beautiful BROWN GIRL
in a red dress. Pauses, crosses)

Man alive! When Susanna Jones wears red
Her face is like an ancient cameo
Turned brown by the ages.

VOICE

Come with a blast of trumpet, Jesus!

YOUNG MAN

When Susanna Jones wears red
A queen from some time-dead Egyptian night
Walks once again.

VOICE

Blow trumpets, Jesus!

YOUNG MAN

And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red
Burns in my heart a love-fire sharp like pain.

VOICE

Sweet silver trumpets, Jesus!

(THE GIRL exits left and YOUNG MAN
takes off coat and starts polishing
a brass spittoon. As he works he
talks to himself)

YOUNG MAN

Gee, if I just had a little money, I think I'd get married.
But I kinder hate to start out with nothing. Suppose we
had a kid? Well, I'd want my kid to have a decent break,
that's what. I had to start to work soon as I was big
enough. My folks never did get ahead. There ain't many
decent jobs a colored boy can get nohow. Here I am polishing
spittoons in a hotel. But I've travelled around plenty,
been all over America pretty near. And most towns, there

-25-

OLD MAN (cont'd)

Owns the world.
Gimme your shoes
To shine.
Yes, sir, boss,
Yes, sir!

YOUNG MAN

(Pointing to the old man)

That was my grandfather.

(On the left the WOMAN in a maid's apron is working)

And my mother, out working for the white folks. When I was a kid, never nobody home to take care of me. I don't want my kids to grow up that way. Look at my mother.

WOMAN

All day, subdued, polite—

Thoughtful to the faces that are white.

OLD MAN

Oh, tribal dance!

Oh, drums!

Oh, veldt at night!

YOUNG MAN

Forgotten watch-fires on a hill somewhere!

OLD MAN

Oh, songs that do not care!

WOMAN

At six o'clock, or seven, or eight you're through
You've worked all day,

Then Harlem waits for you.

A bus, the sub, a taxi through the park.

YOUNG MAN

Oh, drums of life in Harlem after dark.

WOMAN

Oh, dreams!

Oh, songs!

OLD MAN

A little rest at night.

WOMAN

Oh, sweet relief from faces that are white!

(Takes off apron, puts on her coat
and hat, starts for home, crossing
right toward her boy)

-26-

OVERSEER

Say, George! Be careful of my corns!

OLD MAN

Yes, sir, Mr. Mallory, yes, sir!

OVERSEER

And polish those shoes good now! I want to see my face in
'em when you get through.

(OLD MAN bends over his task. The WOMAN reaches home.)

WOMAN

Good-evening, son!

YOUNG MAN

Mom, I lost my job!

WOMAN

You lost your job?

YOUNG MAN

Yes! They laid me off tonight.

WOMAN

Well, honey, you'll find another one. Maybe.

YOUNG MAN

I don't know, Mom. Things is so tight, I done lost heart!
Look how long I been a man now, and ain't never had a job
that amounted to nothing. I've been all over, and every-
where just the same. The dirty work for colored folks,
the cheap work, underpaid work! I'm tired, Mom. Soon as
I come here to be with you a while and we get this little
flat, first thing I do is lose my job. And the landlord's
just sent us a notice about raising the rent, too. Mom,
I'm about ready to give up. I swear I am!

WOMAN

Son, you ain't gonna give up no such a thing. Listen!
You gonna keep right on just like I been keeping on. Did
you ever stop to think about it, honey, about your mother,
and all the rest of us colored women---what we been up
against all through history, son, Sit down and lemme tell
you, for

(Piano music)

I'm standing here today
Like a living story of that long dark way
That I had to climb, that I had to know
In order that our race might live and grow.
Look at my face, boy, dark as the night,

from slavery time through Reconstruction
to the First World War and on into the
future.

-27-

## WOMAN (cont'd)

Yet shining like the sun with hope and light
I'm the child they stole from the sand
Three hundred years ago in Africa's land.
I'm the dark girl who crossed the wide sea
Carrying in my body the seed of the Free.
I'm the woman who worked in the field,
Bringing the cotton and the corn to yield.
I'm the one who labored as a slave,
Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave---
Children sold away from me, husband sold, too.
No safety, no love, no respect was I due.
Three hundred years in the deepest South,
But love put a prayer and a song in my mouth.
Now through my children, we're reaching the goal.
I couldn't read then. I couldn't write.
I had nothing back there in the night.
Sometimes the valley was filled with tears,
But I kept trudging on through the lonely years.
Sometimes the road was hot with sun,
But I had to keep on till my work was done.
I had to keep on! No stopping for me---
I was the seed of the coming Free.
I nourished our dream that nothing could smother
Deep in my breast---the Negro mother.
I had only hope then, but now through you,
Dark child of today, my dreams must come true.
All you dark children in the world out there,
Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair.
Remember my years heavy with sorrow---
And make of those years a torch for tomorrow,
Make of my past a road to the light.
Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night.
Lift high my banner out of the dust.
Stand like free men supporting my trust.
Believe in the right, let none push you back.
Remember the whip and the slaver's track.
Remember how the strong in struggle and strife
Still bar you the way, and deny you life---
But march ever forward, breaking down bars.
Look ever upward at the sun and the stars.
Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers
Impel you forever up the great stairs---
For I will be with you till no evil brother
Dares keep down the children of the Negro mother.

## OVERSEER

(Now a landlord, coming to knock
at their door, right)

Madam, did you get my notice about raising your rent ten
dollars a month more?

-28-

**WOMAN**

Yes, sir, I got the notice, but I am tired of that. I ain't gonna pay no more. We're paying enough.

**OVERSEER**

You'll pay it or move, and no smart talk about it neither.

**YOUNG MAN**

Say, listen here! Who're you to speak to my mother like that?

**OVERSEER**

I'm the landlord. If you don't like it, get out of my place.

**YOUNG MAN**

Lemme see *you* get instead!

**OVERSEER**

What? This is my house!

**YOUNG MAN**

Yes, but you don't live in it! We live here! This is Harlem!

(He towers above the landlord. THE OVERSEER backs away and puts on a waiter's apron. WOMAN begins to peel potatoes. YOUNG MAN to study. At left, BOY holding menu calls:)

**BOY**

Say, waiter! Where is that waiter?...Hey, waiter! Give me an order of spaghetti and a bottle of *beer*, please.

Isoda

**OVERSEER**

Sorry! We don't serve colored here.

**BOY**

What? You mean in New York City you don't serve colored?

**OVERSEER**

Sure, this is a white place.

**BOY**

(Rising)

And you don't serve colored people?

**OVERSEER**

You heard me, big boy.

-29-

BOY

I might of heard you, but this is Harlem speaking now. Get
me that spaghetti. I'm tired of this stuff, from the Bronx
to the Stork Club. Talking about you don't serve colored
people! Ain't I an American?

(OVERSEER backs away. OLD WOMAN enters left as a PICKET carrying a sign reading:

center > 2) DON'T BUY HERE!
THIS STORE DOES NOT
EMPLOY NEGRO CLERKS

Slowly SHE walks back and forth as
in front of store bearing sign:
"MEAT MARKET." OVERSEER rushes
out in white apron of a butcher)

OVERSEER

What you doing in front of my store? What I done to you?
What for you walking up and down with that sign, destruct-
ing my business? Long as you trade with me, what is this?

OLD WOMAN

You know what it is, Mr. Schultz! You know how long I been
trading with you, don't you?

OVERSEER

More'n ten years, Mrs. Brown.

OLD WOMAN

And all that time, I ain't never seen a colored clerk in
this store, not one. My boy growed up and went through
high school, and to college, and got more education than
you ever had, but when one of your clerks died, and my boy
came here to ask you for a job, you said: "No, you might
give him a little janitor's job, but you got to have a
white clerk." That's why I'm picketing out there, Mr.
Schultz. Harlem is tired! No work! No money! I tell
you, Harlem is tired!

(OLD WOMAN brandishes her sign and
BUTCHER flees, to take off his
apron, put on a coat and a pair of
pince-nez with flowing black ribbon.
He is editor of a daily paper and
carries handful of proofs. YOUNG
MAN enters:)

YOUNG MAN

You're the editor of the DAILY SCRIBE?

-31-

OVERSEER

Why--er--uh---you're a radical! Radical! Lock him up!
Lock him up!

YOUNG MAN

Not a radical, Mr. Editor---just tired!

(EDITOR rushes out brandishing
papers. Enter WIFE at left, broom
in hand)

WIFE

Yes, we're tired! Tired as we can be!

(WIFE sweeps. OVERSEER removes
glasses, puts on dark hat, carries
a briefcase, now an insurance man.
Goes to wife's door and knocks)

Yes?

OVERSEER

(Cockily)

Insurance man! Got your book ready?

WIFE

You want me to pay you?

OVERSEER

Of course. It's due, isn't it?

WIFE

Um-hum! You from the Cosmopolitan Company, ain't you, what
builds those houses where I can't live?

OVERSEER

I am.

WIFE

And you don't hire no colored folks in your office, do you?

OVERSEER

Not so far as I know. Why?

WIFE

You won't give colored people certain kinds of policies,
you carries neither, will you?

OVERSEER

Well, you see, in some cases your people are bad risks.

WIFE

But my money's *good* money, ain't it?

-33-

(COP pounds his club on pavement)

COP'S VOICE

Get on down the street! Get off the corner! Move! Move!

(Music of blues up strong as
HUSBAND exits slowly, "TOO-DAMN
MEAN TO GRY." At right THE OVER-
SEER is seated in a chair as a
laundry boss. He begins to pay
out money as several GIRLS pace
restlessly about in front of him
at leaving time)

MULATTO GIRL

Chile, you better wrap up good. It's kinder chilly out-
side.

GIRL

That wind on Lenox Avenue'll cut you a brand new one.

LAUNDRY WORKER

Catch your death of pneumonia, working all day in this
steaming oven.

GIRL

You told that right.

MULATTO GIRL

I sure am glad it's pay day. Let's get in line here and
get our money.

OVERSEER

Here, Dorothy Mae! Here's your wages! Now, don't get
drunk tonight....Here, Miss Lizzie, something for your
preacher tomorrow. Behave yourself in church! Hear?

(As a good-looking LAUNDRY WORKER
approaches for her wages)

Say, Toots, uh-er, listen....

LAUNDRY WORKER

Toots, who?

OVERSEER

Why, er-er....

LAUNDRY WORKER

Is this twenty dollars all you're giving me for a whole
week's work in your laundry?

-34-

OVERSEER

Piece work, that's all you've earned, girlie. But now-
er--

LAUNDRY WORKER

Sixty hours in this steaming hole, and that's all I've
earned? You must be crazy! I've ironed six hundred
shirts this week, at least.

OVERSEER

Well, twenty dollars is your salary.

LAUNDRY WORKER

Then you take that salary and stick it on back in your
drawer from now on, 'cause I'm tired of working for noth-
ing. Harlem is tired! You're living in a big house up
in White Plains, and me slaving all day for nothing in
your laundry. You making all your money off colored folks,
and taking every dollar of it out of Harlem to spend. I'm
tired!

(THE OVERSEER jumps up)

OVERSEER

You must belong to the union. You move on before I call
the police. You're an agitator!

LAUNDRY WORKER

What police? Some of these days you're going to have to
move on, because Harlem is tired. Fact is, I think you
ought to move now.

(She approaches him angrily)

WIFE

Yes, you ought to move!

BOY

Get going!

(THE OVERSEER clutches his money
and rushes away but, before he can
escape, he is surrounded by PEOPLE
pouring in from all sides, threat-
ening him and crying in anger as
their voices mount to a crescendo
of sound and into the breaking of
glass, the clanging of patrol bells,
and the wail of sirens. The Harlem
riots of March 19, 1935, begin)

WOMAN

Gouging me for rent.

-37-

(Disguised as a Dixiecrat Senator in a
wide brimed hat and flowing black tie,
with a Southern accent, THE OVERSEER
enters pointing an angry finger at THE
YOUNG MAN from the audience)

OVERSEER

You want to live with white folks, that's your trouble, boy!
You're a nigra that wants social equality.

(Very quietly THE YOUNG MAN answers)

YOUNG MAN

I want every kind of equality there is, Mister! Human equality!

OVERSEER

You're a Red, that's what you are! A Red!

YOUNG MAN

Is it Red to want to live in a clean house on a decent street
where the garbage trucks come by every day, not just when they
feel like it? Is it Red to want a chance to work on any job
like other Americans? Is it Red to want to vote in South
Carolina? Or go to college in Mississippi? Or be safe from
bombs in Georgia? Or get a fair trail? Or ride on a bus without
Jim Crow? Or rent a house anyplace?

OVERSEER

The trouble with Negroes like you is, you don't know your place.

YOUNG MAN

That's true, Mr. Dixiecrat, we don't know our place--not the one
you want us to keep.

OVERSEER

You're Red! Standing up there making speeches! Subversive--
playing in plays like this one! A traitor--I'm white and you're
talking back to me!

YOUNG MAN

You are no more than I am.

(Shaking with anger THE OVERSEER erupts)

OVERSEER

Why, you b-b-b-black son-of-a-so-and-so! I'm --I'm gonna
call the Department of Justice.

(Still quietly THE YOUNG MAN answers)

38

YOUNG MAN

That's what we want, sir--justice. But not your kind. Not the kind Hitler liked--or they like in South Africa. No, Mister, not that kind! You know I fought in Korea. I had a bullet through my shoulder. I've got a stake in democracy, too. We all have. When you see Harlem's fists doubled up, it's because you have kicked democracy around. When you see our faces frowning, it's because you've squeezed blood out of my heart. My blood is red. My heart beats the same as yours. I dream, too--but I hope my dreams aren't the same.

(The lights dim and only THE YOUNG MAN is visible in the spotlight)

Once America had a very great dream. I read about it in school. The officers told us about it in the army. The radio talks about it all the time now. I guess I got caught up in the tail-end of that dream. I couldn't help it. I'm American, too. Even slaves dreamed about liberty and freedom before the Civil War--and Negroes and white folks fought for it--Nat Turner, Garrison, Douglass, John Brown, Sojourner Truth, Abraham Lincoln, the Union Armies. But I guess you were on the Rebel side, Overseer, I guess you wore a Klan robe during Reconstruction days. I guess you belonged to the Bund in Jersey during World War II. I guess you hated Roosevelt. I guess now you'd bar Negroes out of the John Birch Society. I guess you like to fillibuster in Congress. I guess now your name is Senator...

OVERSEER

Never mind what my name is now! You're a black Red! I'd like to build a concentration camp for you-- and all the rest of your Negra leaders.

YOUNG MAN

I'm not a leader, Mister.

OVERSEER

You might be, so I'll put you in a concentration camp anyhow. All your Negra leaders in Harlem--

YOUNG MAN

There's not many leaders left in Harlem. They've all moved to the suburbs like white folks. There's only us left, Mister.

(From the CROWD in the darkness voices are heard)

HUSBAND

And we're too damn mean to cry!

LAUNDRY WORKER

Get going! Move!

HUSBAND

It's your time to go.

39

VARIOUS VOICES

Yes, move! Move! Move!

OVERSEER

You wouldn't dare touch me!

CROWD

Oh, no?....Aw-w-ww-ww-w-.....

(OVERSEER, frightened, flees through the audience as the hissing of the CROWD mounts. YOUNG MAN speaks quietly)

YOUNG MAN

But that's not the answer either, folks, running him away. In due time, we'll vote senators like him out of office, anyhow. But all white people are not like that man. If they were, America wouldn't mean anything any more. He's not a man, anyhow, he's an idea—an ugly, evil, worn-out idea still alive in the world. But he's on the run—and all his ugly old ideas are on the run, too—all over the world—from Harlem to Dixie to South Africa. College kids picketing for a cup of coffee and a hamburger in the South—and winning in a lot of places. Freedom Riders riding for an end to Jim Crow on buses, trains, in stations. Every time they ride my heart rides with them. Seven hundred Negroes locked up in Albany, Georgia, for trying to break down segregation, for trying to vote. Meredith facing a mob at the University of Mississippi—but registering. But I'm not there. I'm here. What can I do? Give money? Join the NAACP, join CORE? Join the Urban League? Sure! But what else can I do. Maybe you can tell me. Sometimes I don't know. Sometimes I get lost.....

(HIS MOTHER appears speaking over his shoulder)

MOTHER

Frederick Douglass got lost sometimes, too, son, back in slavery time. And Harriet Tubman. And I reckon John Brown. But they kept going on! Kept on—cleaning out underbrush till they found the road. Son, I been scared and battered.

My hopes the wind done scattered.

Snow has friz me, sun has baked me.

Looks like between 'em

They done tried to make me

Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'—

But I don't care! I'm still here!

Son, that man you was just talking to, that old Southern Senator, son-of-a-poor-mother—he's just underbrush to clear out of the road....so the dream can march. Today, you've got an education. You've got strength. You've got will. You've got hope. You've got your dream, ain't you? You got your dream.

And I'm gonna stay here, too. Nobody's running. The N.A.A.C.P is not running, CORE is not running, the students are not running. Martin Luther King may be praying, but he's not running. The Black Muslims are not running. Nobody's running!

A

-43-

Finale for:
"DON'T YOU WANT TO BE FREE?"

NEW WORLD OF TOMORROW

Lyrics by
Langston Hughes Music by
Sammy Heyward

I'D LIKE TO SING A NEW SONG,
BUT THE WORDS I CANNOT FIND.
I'D LIKE TO SING A NEW SONG.
I CAN HEAR IT IN MY MIND.
I'D LIKE TO SING A NEW SONG
OF A WORLD THAT'S FINE AND FREE---
FOR THE NEW WORLD OF TOMORROW
MUST BELONG TO YOU AND ME!

I'D LIKE TO SING A NEW SONG,
YES, A SONG OF BLACK AND WHITE.
I'D LIKE TO SING A NEW SONG,
EVERYBODY TREATED RIGHT.
I'D LIKE TO SING A NEW SONG
OF A WORLD OF LIBERTY---
FOR THE NEW WORLD OF TOMORROW
WILL BELONG TO YOU AND ME.

-45-

PRODUCTION NOTES

for

DON'T YOU WANT TO BE FREE?

by
Langston Hughes

DON'T YOU WANT TO BE FREE? is an impressionistic play endeavouring to capture within the space of an hour the entire scope of Negro history from Africa to America. It should move swiftly from one scene to another with no waits other than those indicated by the action. It should be presented in a modern manner with no curtains or stage effects other than a lynch rope which hangs at the back, center, throughout the entire performance, and serves as a symbol of Negro oppression. This rope is used actively only in the lynching scene when the YOUNG MAN puts his head into the noose on the words, "All you crackers got me." He takes his head from the noose on the words, "Not I." Symbolic of the eternal resurrection of hope of an oppressed people.

This play may be produced on any sort of stage or
platform, with or without wings or exits. In cases where
the stage or platform has no back-stage exits, the entire
cast may be seated on the front rows of the auditorium just
before the performance, and may make their entrance into
the scene from there, exiting back into the audience as
well. Whatever form of staging is used, audience-space
should still be employed for much of the action of the
play, since the idea behind this type of production is to
cause the audience to feel that they, as well as the actors,
are participating in the drama—and not simply sitting
inactive by looking at a show. For instance, the YOUNG
MAN should begin the play by entering without any previous
signal, with all the house lights on, down the center aisle
of the auditorium, delivering his first speech from the
floor in front of the stage, very simply, as though he were
making an announcement. He then steps upon the stage for
the beginning of the play—the poem, "I am a Negro."

The SLAVES, driven by the OVERSEER, may also enter
directly from the audience, either from the seats in the
front row, or down one of the aisles, moaning and crying
as they run.... The bidding of those for the SLAVES should
come from BIDDERS scattered throughout the audience....
The VOICE speaking the lines, "Cook them white folks'
dinner," etc., should also be in the audience, with a
megaphone if the auditorium is a large one.... The CHORUS

-46-

OF SINGERS should occupy a front section of the audience and sing directly from their seats without rising.... The NEWSBOYS should shout their papers up and down the aisles.... When the YOUNG MAN exits after his scene with the MULATTO GIRL, he should exit down the steps from the stage and up the center aisle to the back of the auditorium. There he should pick up his tramp's pack----bandana handkerchief containing his belongings tied on a stick----and make his entrance again, singing the Blues as he comes slowly down the aisle, with the CHORUS humming as an undercurrent to his song.... THE GIRL IN RED may also make her entrance down the center aisle, pausing at the front to powder her nose, perhaps, before walking proudly across the stage as the YOUNG MAN's eyes follow her.... The Harlem Riots may use the front of the auditorium as well as the stage on the opposite side. Then into a huddle as though beating someone. OLD WOMAN faints at the edge of the crowd. THE GIRL rushes to revive her. Members of the CHOIR, the VOICES, and the BIDDERS should be provided with ad lib lines to shout during the riot, and several should have police whistles to blow, thus contributing to the general excitement.... THE MAN IN THE AUDIENCE should speak from the eighth or tenth row.... It is thoroughly permissible for the audience to sing the songs along with the cast, if they spontaneously wish to do so, or to come up and join hands with the cast during the song at the end of the play.

**CASTING NOTES:** In the casting of this play, an attempt should be made to choose actors representing an appearance in complete accord with a cross-section of all the types to be found in any Negro community, ranging from the very dark in complexion to the very light. The YOUNG MAN should be a strong, husky, brownskin fellow, not over the age of 25 in appearance, possessing a wholesome, likeable personality and a deep manly voice. Since the entire play revolves around him, he must typify the finest type of hard-working youth of the Negro race, not highly educated, but seeking always the path toward education, light and freedom.... THE OVERSEER may be played by an actor of light complexion who can make up easily as a white man.... The OLD WOMAN, who may be listed on the program as SOJOURNER TRUTH, should in costuming resemble as much as possible, especially in her first scene, photographs of SOJOURNER TRUTH.... The NEWSBOYS should be between 14 and 16 years of age----if they are too young, they amuse the audience and cause laughter at a serious point in the play.... The blues sequence may be cast as an entire unit in itself, with singing-actors who need take no part in the rest of the play, except to come in as part of the riot crowd, remaining on the stage for the

-48-

finale, when the entire cast comes forward in the final song.

**MUSIC:** All of the songs in this production should be sung with the richness, fervor and rhythm so characteristic of Negro music at its best. In no case should polished arrangements of the spirituals be used, but they should have the natural, simple, mellifluous and rhythmic quality to be heard in the singing of any humble NEGRO church. GO DOWN, MOSES, IN THAT GREAT GETTIN' UP MORNING, and JOHN BROWN'S BODY, especially should be sung with spirit, gusto, and very stirringly. All of the spirituals may be sung by the entire chorus, except in cases where an exceptional singing-actor is able to carry his part in the song alone. The blues sequence should be accompanied by an expert, old-time, stomp-down blues-piano player who should continue the same rhythm throughout the entire sequence, playing softly but shrewdly and steadily through the spoken portions. The action of the blues sequence should be in time to the music, the characters walking and moving in tempo.... The spirituals, SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE A MOTHERLESS CHILD, may be used as background music on the piano for the MOTHER's long poem concerning her trials and tribulations, going into the strong chords of GO DOWN, MOSES at the end.

**COSTUMES:** The AFRICAN BOY should wear only a bright loin cloth, the AFRICAN GIRL a sarong of a darker flowered material with ivory or wooden bracelets, and perhaps a barbaric necklace. The OVERSEER in his early scenes wears a Simon Legree coat, a black string tie, and a wide Panama hat; as a plantation master, he may be in his shirt sleeves; for his various other roles, he may change only a coat, a hat, a butcher's apron, etc., as the case demands. The MULATTO GIRL should wear a bright and attractive, but over-gaudy costume, too much rouge, and cheap jewelry. The YOUNG MAN can wear an ordinary dark suit, a blue work shirt and a tie which he removes when he enters for the scene with the PLANTATION MASTER.

**SOUND:** A good loud cymbal is needed. A drum may be used to accompany the more stirring spirituals. Two sound effects records are required, those of the barking dogs for the lynch scene, and army bugle calls to be used for the Civil War. These may be played on any vitrola backstage with a loud needle. Police whistles and a siren are needed for the riot scene, and other sound effects such as breaking glass, rattling of tin cans, ambulance and fire bells may be used.

-48-

**LIGHT EFFECTS:** The light effects for the play may be as simple or as elaborate as the acting group can afford. If spotlights are used, the various scenes may be picked out with the spots as the scenes occur, blacking out as the scenes end---but this is not necessary; and if blackouts are used, immediately one scene is blacked out, another should be lighted, so that there is no wait, *not even the slightest* between scenes---since the success of this play depends upon a rapid moving-picture technique of one scene flowing directly into another. Since, with amateur groups, elaborate lighting usually creates a problem, and often proves spotty and distracting when awkwardly handled, very simple lighting effects are urged for this production. If spotlights are available, straw-amber or steel-blue need be the only gelatin slides used to vary the lighting. For the lynching, a complete blackout may be used, with just a small handspot to form a flashlight in the first row, focussed on the face of the dead boy while the NEWSBOYS shout their papers. In case no special lighting is available the entire play may be performed in the ordinary light of any church or hall.

**GROUPS TO BE CONTACTED FOR PROMOTION:** This play should appeal especially to Negro History groups, labor unions, social workers, and liberal and progressive organizations of all types, as well as Negro fraternal groups. It is suggested that the play be performed in a small auditorium, perhaps two performances a week over a period of several weeks, rather than performing the play just once in a large auditorium---since this is the type of play which catches on by word of mouth advertising, so people should be given a chance to hear about it. Also, a small hall packed to the doors is much more encouraging to actors than a large hall partially filled. Then, too, several performances of the same play help greatly in perfecting the acting technique of the group.

**FINALE:** The music of the final song may be secured from Langston Hughes, 20 East 127th Street, New York 35, New York; or from the composer,

Sammy Heyward, 2265 Fifth Avenue, New York 37, New York.

A NOTE ON "DON'T YOU WANT TO BE FREE?"

"DON'T YOU WANT TO BE FREE?" was first produced by the Harlem Suitease Theatre where it was performed 135 times in 1937-1938, the record for a Harlem run of any play. The play was published in "The One-Act Play Magazine," October, 1938. Since that time it has been performed by college and little theatre groups in Los Angeles, Chicago, Pittsburgh, New Orleans, at Wilberforce and Talladega colleges, at Howard University in Washington, D. C. and elsewhere. Without scenery, the play may be done in "theatre-in-the-round" or on a regular stage. The OVERSEER, as a symbol of oppression and prejudice, plays many parts--with slight changes of costume. There should be no waits between episodes, no breaks, one scene walking into the other, perhaps with a change of light, as a continuous panorama of the emotional history of the Negro from Africa to the present.

Langston Hughes

If you think the updated revised Centennial version of this poetry play of mine on Negro history would interest you for production, let me know and I'll send a script.

Draft - Revised ending of
Don't you Want To Be Free?"
February 8-9, 1963

-37-

Langston
Hughes
New York

OVERSEER

YOUNG MAN

OVERSEER

YOUNG MAN

OVERSEER

YOUNG MAN

OVERSEER

YOUNG MAN

You are no more than I am.

OVERSEER

38

YOUNG MAN

That's what we want, sir--justice. But not your kind. Not the kind Hitler liked--or they like in South Africa. No, Mister, not that kind! You know I've fought in Korea. I had a bullet through my shoulder. I've got a stake in democracy, too. We all have. When you see Harlem's fists doubled up, it's because you have kicked democracy around. When you see our faces frowning, it's because you've squeezed blood out of my heart. My blood is red. My heart beats the same as yours. I dream, too--but I hope my dreams aren't the same.

Once America had a very great dream. I read about it in school. The officers told us about it in the army. The radio talks about it all the time now. I guess I got caught up in the tail-end of that dream. I couldn't help it. I'm American, too. Even slaves dreamed about liberty and freedom before the Civil War--and Negroes and white folks fought for it--Nat Turner, Garrison, Douglass, John Brown, Sojourner Truth, Abraham Lincoln, the Union Armies. But I guess you were on the Rebel side, Overseer, I guess you wore a Klan robe during Reconstruction days. I guess you belonged to the Bund in Jersey during World War II. I guess you hated the Ku Klux-Kaleidoscope. I guess now you'd bar Negroes out of the John Birch Society. I guess you like to fillibuster in Congress. I guess now your name is Senator...

OVERSEER

YOUNG MAN

I'm not a leader, Mister.

OVERSEER

YOUNG MAN

HUSBAND

LAUNDRY WORKER

Get going! Move!

HUSBAND

It's your time to go.

VARIOUS VOICES

Yes, move! Move! Move!

OVERSEER

You wouldn't dare touch me!

CROWD

Oh, no? ... Aw-ww-ww-ww- ...

YOUNG MAN

But that's not the answer either, folks, running him away. In due time, we'll vote <u>senators</u> like him out of office, anyhow. But all white people are not like that man. If they were, <u>Negroes</u> America wouldn't mean anything any more. He's not a man, anyhow, he's an idea--an ugly, evil, worn-out idea still alive in the world. But he's on the run--and all his ugly old ideas are on the run, too--all over the world--from Harlem to Dixie to South Africa. College kids picketing for a cup of coffee and a hamburger in the South--and winning in a lot of places. Freedom Riders riding for an end to Jim Crow on buses, trains, in stations. Every time they ride my heart rides with them. Seven hundred Negroes locked up in Albany, Georgia, for trying to break down segregation, for trying to vote. Meredith facing a mob at the University of Mississippi--but registering. But I'm not there. I'm here. What can I do? Give money? Join the NAACP, join CORE? <u>Join the Urban League?</u> Sure! But what else can I do. Maybe you can tell me. Sometimes I don't know. Sometimes I get lost.....

MOTHER

Frederick Douglass got lost sometimes, too, son, back in slavery time. And Harriet Tubman. And I reckon John Brown. But they kept going on! Kept on--cleaning out underbrush till they found the road. Son, I been scared and battered
My hopes the wind done scattered.
Snow has friz me, sun has baked me.
Looks like between 'em
They done tried to make me
Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'--
But I don't care! I'm still here!

Son, that man you was just talking to, that old Southern Senator, son-of-a-poor-mother--he's just underbrush to clear out of the road....so the dream can march. Today, you've got an education. You've got strength. You've got will. You've got hope. You've got your dream, ain't you? You got your dream.

40

YOUNG MAN

Sure, Mom, I got my dream. I got it right here--inside.

MOTHER

Freedom is everybody's dream, son--excusing that son-of-a-poor-mother. It's everybody's dream all over the world. In slavery time it was Sojourner Truth's dream--and she sang it. Listen!

(Clear and strong out of the past a WOMAN'S voice sings and, like the dawn, the lights gradually come up stronger and stronger, illuminating the faces of Harlem)

VOICES

Oh, Freedom! Oh, Freedom!
Oh, Freedom over me!

(The voices of the OTHER WOMEN join in and
THE YOUNG MAN and HIS MOTHER speak over the song)

YOUNG MAN

It's going to come ture, Mom, my dream!

WOMAN

Of course, it's going to come true, son.

(Suddenly the MEN'S voices take up song)

MEN

Before I'd be a slave....etc.

YOUNG MAN

I got to be free! And not "with all deliberate speed," either
America is not a snail. Free! Free! Right here in this world,
now--on this earth, in America, free! Folks--

(HE comes toward audience singing)

YOUNG MAN

I'd like to sing a new song,
But the words I cannot find.
I'd like to sing a new song
I can hear it in my mind.
I'd like to sing a new song
Of a world that's fine and free--
For the new world of tomorrow
Must belong to you and me!

(HIS MOTHER joins him in singing)

-37-

(Disguised as a Dixiecrat senator in a wide-brined hat)

with a Southern accent

and flowing black tie, THE OVERSEER enters pointing an angry finger at THE YOUNG MAN from the audience)

**OVERSEER**

You want to live with white folks, that's your trouble! You want social equality.

Your language that wants

**YOUNG MAN**

**OVERSEER**

**YOUNG MAN**

Is it Red to want to live in a clean house on a decent street where the garbage trucks come by every day, not just when they feel like it? Is it Red to want a chance to work on any job like other Americans? Is it Red to want to vote in South Carolina? Or go to college in Mississippi? Or be safe from bombs in Florida? Or get a fair trial? Or ride on a bus without Jim Crow? Or rent a house anyplace?

Georgia?

**OVERSEER**

**YOUNG MAN**

**OVERSEER**

You're Red! Standing up there making speeches! Subversive--playing in plays like this one! A traitor--I'm white and you're talking back to me!

**YOUNG MAN**

You ain't no more than I am.

**OVERSEER**

Why, you b-b-b-black son-of-a-so-and-so! I'm--I'm gonna call the Department of Justice.

-39-

HUSBAND
It's your time to go.

OVERSEER
You wouldn't dare touch me!

CROWD
Oh, no? ... Aw-w-ww-ww-w-...

(OVERSEER, frightened, flees through the audience, cursing as the turnstile is being replaced by a crowd of the CROWD mounts. YOUNG MAN speaks quietly)

hissing

A

Seven hundred
negroes locked
up in albany,
Georgia, for
trying to break
down segregation
for trying to not
meredith facing
a mob at the
university of
mississippi but

regardless

All white people are not like that man. If they were,
America wouldn't mean anything any more. He's not a man,
anyhow, he's an idea—an ugly, evil, worn-out idea still
alive in the world. But he's on the run—and all his ugly
old ideas are on the run, too—all over the world—from
Harlem to Dixie to South Africa. College kids picketing
for a cup of coffee and a hamburger in the South—and win-
ning in a lot of places. Freedom Riders riding for an end
to Jim Crow signs and Jim Crow on busses, trains, in sta-
tions. Every time they ride my heart rides with them.

But I'm not there. I'm here. In Harlem. What can I do?
Give money? Join the NAACP, join CORE? Sure! But what
else can I do. Maybe you can tell me. Sometimes I don't
know. Sometimes I get lost....

A

Join the
urban
League?

MOTHER

Frederick Douglass got lost sometimes, too, son, And
Moses, long before that. Harriet Tubman. And I reckon
John Brown. But they kept going on! Kept on—cleaning
out underbrush till they found the road. That man you
was just talking to—that son-of-a-poor-mother, he's
just underbrush to clear out of the road—so the dream
can march. You got your dream, ain't you? You got your
hope?

Back in slavery
times

-41-

YOUNG MAN

I'd like to sing a new song,
But the words I cannot find.
I'd like to sing a new song,
I can hear it in my mind.
I'd like to sing a new song
Of a world that's fine and free—
For the new world of tomorrow
Must belong to you and me!

WOMAN

I'd like to sing a new song,
Yes, a song of black and white.
I'd like to sing a new song.

BOTH

Everybody treated right.

YOUNG MAN

I'd like to sing a new song
Of a world of liberty—

BOTH

For the new world of tomorrow
Will belong to you and me.

(High and clear THE WOMEN'S voices
ring out)

WOMEN

Oh, Freedom.....

YOUNG MAN

Don't you want to be free?

WOMEN

Oh, Freedom....

MEN

A world that's fine and free!

WOMEN

Oh, Freedom!

MEN

Freedom over me!

ENSEMBLE

Before I'd be a slave
I'd be buried in my grave

-43-

ENSEMBLE

Don't you want----
To....be....free?

(BLACKOUT. LIGHTS UP immediately
for final chorus as YOUNG MAN
comes down to AUDIENCE, shaking
hands with those who come forward
as EVERYBODY SINGS:)

EVERYBODY

I'd like to sing a new song,
Yes, a song of black and white,
I'd like to sing a new song,
Everybody treated right!
I'd like to sing a new song
Of a world of liberty----
For the new world of tomorrow
Will belong to you and me!

(The music continues as curtain
calls are taken. BLACKOUT for
CAST to exit as piano continues
and as LIGHTS COME UP to exit
theme of "NEW WORLD OF TOMORROW")

THE END