SU-332-1

"ARTHUR HOPKINS PRESENTS"

"OUR TOWN"

EPISODE #1

BY

THORNTON WILDER

RADIO ADAPTATION

BY

WYLLIS COOPER

CAST:

STAGE MANAGER (Frank Craven)
Howie Newsome, the milkman (bit)
Joe Crowell, Jr., newsboy (bit)
Dr Gibbs
Mrs Gibbs
George Gibbs
Rebecca Gibbs (one line, may double)
Mr Webb
Mrs Webb
Emily Webb
Wally Webb (one line, may double)
A Woman in the Audience (may double)
A Man in the Audience (may double)
Another Woman in the audience (may double)
Mrs Soames
Constable Warren (bit)
Si Crowell (suggest Joe double)
Orchestra Conductor (may double)
Mr Morgan, drugstore owner
First Baseball Player (may double)
Second Baseball Player (may double)
Third Baseball Player (may double)
Mrs Foster (bit)
Joe Stoddard, the undertaker
Simon Stimson, the organist
A Preacher
Voices Among the Dead (doubles; 3 men and 2 women)

NOTICE:

WEDNESDAY, April 19, 1944

This property is duly protected by copyright and may not be used in any
manner without the authority of the owner thereof.

It is authorized for broadcast over National Broadcasting Company, Inc.,
facilities only on the date first indicated herein.

FORM R-78

WEAF

( )( )

11:30 - 12:30 AM

"ARTHUR HOPKINS PRESENTS"

"OUR TOWN"

APRIL 19, 1944

No. 1

WEDNESDAY

SOUND: (APPLAUSE) (FADE FOR)

ANNCR: Arthur Hopkins presents, through the facilities of the National Broadcasting Company and its independent affiliated stations, the first of a series of important plays starring the great names of the theatre.

Here is Mr. Hopkins in person, to say a few words in general about this series, and in particular about the play he presents tonight.

SOUND: (APPLAUSE UP AND OUT)

MR HOPKINS: There is special pleasure in bringing to you this heart-warming American classic as the first offering of our people's repertoire theatre. The play was originally produced without scenery, a precedent which we shall not violate. In a way I was responsible for turning Thornton Wilder away from the restrictions of stage settings. Meeting him at lunch one day I said, "I have just seen what may be the last flawless performance of the play I am rehearsing. Tomorrow they bring in the scenery. All that was once free and imagined will now be imprisoned in the realities of scenery, properties and unfamiliar clothes."

(MORE)

-2-

MR HOPKINS' (Cont'd)

"Actors will now be irritatingly adjusting themselves to
strange trappings, smearing the once free character with
grease-paint and false hair, struggling with doors that
will not open, turning on lamps that do not light, waiting
for characters who do not appear, forgetting speeches they
know well and desperately wondering why they ever wanted
to be actors. Of course, all will be ultimately
straightened out, but too frequently some of the inner
magic is lost in the distraction of externals."

Some months after unburdening myself, I received from
Thornton a volume of one-act plays he had just finished.
He called them "Plays Without Scenery" and on the
fly-leaf placed the blame at my door. Later he wrote
"Our Town", a full length play without scenery, and by
sheer magic of words created an unforgettable, universal
town more real than any scene-painter's brush could have
conjured. So, in a way, my having the privilege of
opening our theatre radio series with Thornton Wilder's
unforgettable work is bread returning to me on the water,
bread that I trust will prove manna from the ether to you.

While listening to this play you will need no one to tell
you what sort of man Thornton is. His inner riches shine
through his thoughts. You will see him clearly and know
him well. There are four words, however, that do describe
him, words used by Alexander Woollcott, who had a gift
for brief appraisal, sometimes devastating, sometimes
worshipping.
(MORE)

-3-

MR HOPKINS: (Cont'd)

In speaking to me once of Thornton, he referred to him
as "That Lamb of God". That's it - that describes him.
"That Lamb of God". Now you know him. It is among the
many ironies of our time that this gentlest of men should
now be in battle dress. Somewhere in Italy he is hearing,
"Yes, Major." "At once, Major". "Very well, Major,"
embarrassed, I am sure by anything resembling subserviency
To other salutations we add, "Good luck, Major."

It is natural on this night of theatre radio that
thoughts of Alexander Woollcott should be awakened. In
the heart of both theatre and radio he left a special
place that long will remain warm. In case these radio
impulses may reach the graduate territory that Alec's
spirit now quizzically surveys, I send him your fond
greetings and mine.

And now the play begins.

-4-

(MUSIC... OVERTURE)

MR CRAVEN: Good evenin'. My name is Frank Craven. In this play I'm the stage manager, and it's my job to kind of tell you about the people, and something about Grover's Corners, which is the name of our town.

There's quite a lot of people in this play, and sometimes you might get a little mixed up on who's talkin', on account of you can't see 'em, you know. Well, let me tell you some of the things first you ought to know before we actually start.

This play is called "Our Town". It was written by Thornton Wilder; and tonight, it's produced by Arthur Hopkins, and directed by Wynn Wright. In it you'll hear (INSERT NAMES) and many others.

Like I told you, the name of the town is Grover's Corners, New Hampshire - just across the Massachusetts line; longitude 42 degrees 40 minutes; latitude 70 degrees 37 minutes. The first act shows a day in our town. The day is May 7th, 1901. The time is just before dawn.

SOUND: (A ROOSTER CROWS OFF)

MR CRAVEN: The sky's beginning to show some streaks of light over in the east there, behind our mountain. The morning star always gets wonderful bright the minute before it has to go. Well, I'd better tell you how our town lies. When we did this play in the theatre, on the stage, we didn't have any scenery at all - just the bare stage, and you could imagine how things looked, since you didn't have any scenery or anything to bother you. (MORE)

-5-

MR CRAVEN: (Cont'd)

It's even better on the radio, I think, because you haven't even got a bare stage to look at: you can just kind of set back and shut your eyes, and imagine how things look - and I'll be right here to help you out in case of doubt, and to get people up here at the right times. Well, (HE GOES OFF MIKE A LITTLE) Let me show you how our town lies, like I said. Up here is Maine Street. Way back there is the railway station, tracks go that way. Polish Town's across the tracks, and some Canuck families. (HE WALKS A FEW STEPS, BUT STAYS OFF MIKE) Over there is the Congregational Church; across the street is the Presbyterian. Baptist is down in the hollas by the river. Catholic Church is over beyond the tracks. (HE WALKS A FEW STEPS, COMING CLOSER NOW) Here's the Town Hall and Post-office combined. Jails in the basement. (HE COMES ON MIKE) Bryan once made a speech from these steps here. (A MAN'S HURRYING FOOTSTEPS COME IN AND GO BY) That was Shorty Hawkins, hurryin' down to the station to flag the 5:45 for Boston. (CALLS) Have to hurry, Shorty. Well...along here's a row of stores. Hitching-posts and horse-blocks in front of them. First automobile's going to come along in about five years - belonged to Banker Cartright. Here's the grocery store - (HE MOVES AWAY AGAIN) - Mr. Morgan's drugstore. Public school's over yonder. High School's still farther over. And this house here - (HE WALKS CLOSER) is our doctor's house. Doc Gibbs! Here's the back door - garden over here...corn, peas, beans, hollyhocks...and a lot of burdock (more)

-6-

MR CRAVEN: (Cont'd)

This other house here is where the editor of the Grover's Corners Weekly Sentinel lives - Mr. Webb. Now you want to get acquainted with some of us - specially the Gibbses and the Webbs, because they're the people that this play is mostly about. (DISTANT TRAIN WHISTLE) There comes the 5:45 - yes, I guess Shorty made it all right: there's a light in the station...the town's beginning to wake up now. Out in the country people's up long ago - milkin' and so forth, but here in town we sleep later. (SOUND OF THE APPROACHING MILK-WAGON: HORSE'S HOOFBEATS, ETC) Here comes Howie Newsome, the milkman...mornin', Howie.

HOWIE NEWSOME (AS THE MILKWAGON GETS CLOSE) Git-ap, Bessie. What's the matter with you? Mornin'. Nice day, huh?

MR CRAVEN: Fine, Howie. (THE MILKWAGON GOES ON PAST) Here comes young Joe Crowell, Junior, deliverin' the paper...mornin', Joe.

JOE CROWELL JR: You want your paper?

MR CRAVEN: No, you just leave it at the house, Joe.

JOE: (GOING) Orright. (HE GOES AWAY, WHISTLING "THERE 'LL BE A HOT TIME IN THE OLD TOWN TONIGHT")

MR CRAVEN: Not many people around this time o' mornin'. (THE TRAIN WHISTLE IS HEARD AGAIN IN THE DISTANCE: THIS TIME A "STATION" WHISTLE - ONE LONG BLAST - AND WE CAN DIMLY HEAR THE SOUND OF THE TRAIN AS IT PULLS IN TO THE STATION, STOPS AND GOES ON. IT IS STILL A LONG DISTANCE AWAY) Here comes one I want you to meet - Doc Gibbs. (FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING) Howdy, Doc. Somebody in town sick?

-7-

DR GIBBS: (COMING UP) Pair of twins over to Mrs Coruslawski's,
in Polish Town.

MR CRAVEN: Twins, huh? I declare. Up all night, huh?

DR GIBBS: Yeah; pretty tired.

MR CRAVEN: Better get some sleep.

DR GIBBS: (GOING AWAY) Yes; have to be up at eleven for Mrs
Wentworth. Stomach again. (A DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES,
OFF MIKE)

MR CRAVEN: Yes, that's Doc Gibbs. He died in 1930. The new
hospital's named after him. Now inside the house, Mrs.
Gibbs is pourin' Doc a cup of coffee and callin'
upstairs to the children, tryin' to get 'em up....

MRS GIBBS: (POURING COFFEE) I do wish I could get you to go away
someplace and take a rest, Frank. (DR GIBBS: Mmm)
Childrun! Child-run! Time to get up! George! Rebecca!

MR CRAVEN: Mrs Gibbs died a long time ago. Pneumonia, when she
was out in Ohio visitin' her daughter Rebecca. They
brought the body back here. She's up there in the
cemetery now - with a whole mess of Gibbses and Herseys.
She was a Hersey.

MRS GIBBS: George! Rebecca!

DR GIBBS: Don't you hear your mother calling you children?

MR CRAVEN: Now I want you to meet Editor and Mrs Webb. Mrs Webb's
calling her children, too....

MRS WEBB: Emily! Wally! Time to get up! Nearly seven o'clock!

MR CRAVEN: So it is, so it is. (A FACTORY WHISTLE BLOWS IN THE
DISTANCE) There's the factory whistle. Factory in our
town, too. Makes blankets. Where's Editor Webb?

-8-

MRS WEBB: He'll be down in a minute. (CALLS) Charles! You're keepin' all these folks waitin'!

MR WEBB: (OFF, MUFFLED) Be right down. Right down.

MR CRAVEN: All right. Now, we'll show you the children of these two families....just a glance at 'em, but it's important, and I want you to know who they are. First, Doc Gibbs's kids...

REBECCA: (OFF) Ma, what dress shall I wear?

MRS GIBBS: I washed and ironed the blue gingham for you special.

REBECCA: (OFF) Ma, I hate that dress!

MR CRAVEN: That's Rebecca...she's the one Mrs. Gibbs was visitin' out in Ohio when she died. This'n's George.

GEORGE: Ma, I ought to have more'n twenty-five cents a week allowance.

MRS GIBBS: I declare, I don't know how you spend it all --

GEORGE: Aw, Ma, I got things to buy!

MR CRAVEN: Those are Doc Gibbs's children; Rebecca and George. Now these here are Editor Webb's children: This is Emily; remember her:

EMILY: Oh, Mama, I'd rather be healthy than bright! Even if I am the brightest girl in school for my age!

MR CRAVEN: That's Emily Webb: and this boy is Wally Webb:

WALLY: Aw, Ma, why can't I read a book at the table?

MR CRAVEN: Battle goes on every meal in the Webb household. Say, what's become of Editor Webb? Charley!

MR WEBB: (SLAMS A DOOR AS HE COMES IN) I'm sorry! I cut myself shavin' and I just couldn't get it stopped - good morning.

MR CRAVEN: Folks, this is the editor and publisher of the Grover's Corners Sentinel. Our local paper, y'know.

-9-

MR WEBB: How d'you do.

MR CRAVEN: Well, now, we're going to skip a few hours in the day at Grover's Corners. But before we go on I want you to know some more things about the town - all kinds of things. Mr. Webb's got some notes, I think, made by Professor Willard of our University.

MR WEBB: Well, let's see...Grover's Corners...lies on the old Archaeozoic granite of the Appalachian Range: the oldest land in the world. (LOOKING UP FROM THE NOTES) We're very proud of that. (HE READS) Some highly interesting fossils have been found - two miles out of town, in Silas Peckham's cowpasture...(TO THE STAGE MANAGER) Do we want the meteorological conditions?

MR CRAVEN: Thank you. We would.

MR WEBB: The mean precipitation is 40 inches. Mean annual temperature 43 degrees, ranging from 102 degrees in the shade to 38 below zero in winter.

MR CRAVEN: And what about the history of human life here?

MR WEBB: Hmmm...early Amerindian stock. Cotahatchee tribes...no evidence before the Tenth Century of this ear... migration toward the end of the seventeenth century of English brachycephalic blue-eyed stock - since then some influx of Slav and Mediterranean -

MR CRAVEN: And the population?

MR WEBB: Within the town limits 2,640.

MR CRAVEN: Thank you, Mr. Webb. Now, would you speak extemporaneously for a minute on political and social conditions?

-10-

MR WEBB: (HIMSELF NOW) Well! We're run by a Board of Selectmen; all males vote at the age of 21. Women vote indirect. Politically we're about 86 per cent. Republicans; 6 per cent. Democrats; 4 per cent. Socialists, the rest indifference. Religiously, 85% Protestants; 12% Catholics, the rest indifferent. Very ordinary town, if you ask me. Little better-behaved than most. Probably a lot duller. But our young people here seem to like it well enough: 90% of 'em graduating from High School settle down right here to live - even when they've been away to college.

MR CRAVEN: Thank you, Mr. Webb: Editor Webb. Now is there anyone in the audience who would like to ask Mr Webb anything about the town?

A WOMAN: (OFF) Is there much drinking in Grover's Corners?

MR WEBB: Well, ma'am, Satiddy nights the farmhands meet down in Ellery Greenough's stable and holler some. Fourth of July I've been known to taste a drop myself - and Decoration Day. Got one or two town drunks, but they're always havin' remorses every time an evangelist comes to town. No, ma'am I'd say there ain't much drinkin'.

MR CRAVEN: Anybody else?

A MAN: (FAR OFF) Is there no one in town aware of -

MR CRAVEN: Come forward, will you, where we can all hear you - (HE WAITS A MOMENT) What were you saying?

THE MAN: (UP) Is there no one in town aware of social injustice and industrial equality?

-11-

MR WEBB: Oh, yes, everybody is - somethin' terrible. Seems like they spend most of their time talking about who's rich and who's poor.

THE MAN: Then why don't they do something about it?

MR WEBB: Well, we're ready to listen to everybody's suggestion as how you can see that the diligent and sensible'll rise to the top and the lazy and quarrelsome sink to the bottom. We'll listen to anybody. Meanwhile, we try to take care of those that can't help themselves, and those that can we leave alone. Are there any more questions?

ANOTHER WOMAN: (OFF) Oh, Mr. Webb! Mr. Webb, is there any culture or love of beauty in Grover's Corners?

MR WEBB: Well...there's some girls that play the piano at High School commencement, but they ain't happy about it. And I see where my daughter's been made to read "The Merchant of Venice" over to the school. Seems all pretty remote to them, y'know what I mean. Maybe, though, this is the place to tell you how we like the sun comin' up over the mountain in the morning, and how we all notice a good deal about the birds - and the trees and plants and such. We watch the change of the seasons, too: everybody knows about them. No, ma'am, there ain't much - "Robinson Crusoe" and the Bible, and Handel's "Largo", we all know that; and Whistler's "Mother" - those are just about as far as we go.

THE WOMAN: Thank you, Mr. Webb.

MR CRAVEN: All right, all right! Thank you, everybody. Thank you, Mr. Webb.

-12-

MR WEBB: Don't mention it. (HE LEAVES)

MR CRAVEN: We'll go back to the town now. It's the middle of the afternoon. All 2,642 people have had their dinners and all the dishes have been washed. There's an early afternoon calm in our town: only a few buggies back there on Main Street - the horses dozin' at the hitching-posts: you remember what it's like. Doc Gibbs is in his office, tappin' people and making them say "Ah". Mr Webb's cutting his lawn over there; one man in ten thinks it's a privilege to push his own lawnmower. And the children are coming home from school - here comes Emily Webb with her books....and George Gibbs - Doc's son, you know - is just catchin' up with her:

GEORGE: (OFF) Hello, Emily.

EMILY: (OFF) H'lo, George.

SOUND: (WE CAN HEAR THEIR FOOTSTEPS AS THEY WALK ALONG UNTIL EMILY GOES IN THE HOUSE)

GEORGE: (AS THEY COME CLOSER) You made a fine speech in class.

EMILY: Well....I was really ready to make a speech about the Monroe Doctrine, but at the last minute Miss Corcoran made me talk about the Louisiana Purchase instead. I worked an awful long time on both of 'em.

GEORGE: Yeah. (A FEW STEPS) Gee, it's funny, Emily. From my window up there I can just see your head nights when you're doing your homework in your room.

EMILY: Why, can you?

GEORGE: You certainly do stick to it, Emily. I guess you must like school.

-13-

EMILY: Well, I always feel it's something you have to go through.

GEORGE: Yeah.

EMILY: I don't mind it, really. It passes the time.

GEORGE: Yeah. (A STEP) Emily, what do you think? We might work out a kind of telegraph from there to there, and once in a while you could give me a kinda hint or two about one of those algebra problems. Not the answers, Emily, of course not....just some little hint....

EMILY: Oh, I think <u>hints</u> are allowed. So - ah - if you get stuck, George, you whistle to me and I'll give you some hints.

GEORGE: Emily, you're just naturally bright, I think.

EMILY: I just figure it's the way a person's born.

GEORGE: Yeah. But, you see, I want to be a farmer.

EMILY: You do?

GEORGE: And my Uncle Luke says whenever I'm ready I can come over and work on his farm, and if I'm any good I can just naturally have it.

EMILY: The house and everything?

GEORGE: Yeh. Well, thanks. I mean thanks for the talk.

EMILY: You going to play baseball?

GEORGE: Yeh. Well, g'by, Emily.

EMILY: G'by, George.

SOUND: (GEORGE GOES AWAY. EMILY WALKS SLOWLY UP TO THE HOUSE AND OPENS THE DOOR)

EMILY: H'lo, mama.

MRS WEBB: (OFF A LITTLE) Emily, come and help me string these beans for the winter.

-14-

EMILY: (CLOSING THE DOOR) All right, mama.

MRS WEBB: (CLOSER) Was that George Gibbs you were talking to?

EMILY: Uh-huh.

MRS WEBB: He's growing up. How old would he be?

EMILY: I don't know, mother. (SHE DRAWS UP A CHAIR AND A PAN RATTLES SLIGHTLY AS SHE STARTS TO STRING THE BEANS)
I made a speech in class today.

MRS WEBB: Did you?

EMILY: I was very good, I think.

MRS WEBB: You must recite it to your father at supper. What was it about?

EMILY: (MOVING HER CHAIR A LITTLE) The Louisiana Purchase.
Mama, answer me a question - serious?

MRS WEBB: Seriously, dear - not serious.

EMILY: Seriously, will you?

MRS WEBB: Of course I will.

EMILY: Mama, am I good-looking?

MRS WEBB: Of course you are!

EMILY: Well, what I mean is - am I pretty?

MRS WEBB: I've already told you - yes. You have a nice pretty young face. I never heard of such foolishness.

EMILY: Mama, were you pretty?

MRS WEBB: What? (SHE LAUGHS A LITTLE) Yes, I was, if I do say it myself. I was the prettiest girl in town next to Mamie Cartwright.

EMILY: Well, Mama, you've got to say something about me! Am I pretty enough...to get anybody...to get people interested in me?

-15-

MRS WEBB: Emily, you make me tired! Now, stop it - you're pretty enough for all normal purposes. Come along now and bring that pan with you,

EMILY: Oh, Mama (RISING) You're no help at all.

MR CRAVEN: Thank you. Thank you! That'll do: we'll have to interrupt here again. Thank you, Mrs. Webb. Thank you, Emily. (A DOOR CLOSES QUIETLY, INDICATING THE WITHDRAWAL OF EMILY AND MRS WEBB) This time we're going to go about it in another way: we're going to look back on it from the future. I'm not going to tell you what became of these two families we're seeing most of, because the rest of the play'll tell you about them.

But some of the others: Joe Crowell, Junior, the boy that delivered the Sentinel: he graduated with honours and got a scholarship to M I T. But the war broke out and Joe died in France. All that education for nothing. Howie Newsome is still delivering milk. He's an old man now, but he still delivers himself.

There's a new bank bein' built in Grover's Corners now - had to go to Vermont for the marble, sorry to say. They're putting a copy of the New York Times and the Grover's Corners Sentinel in the cornerstore. And the Bible, and the Constitution of the United States, and a copy of William Shakespeare's plays. You know, Babylon once had two million people in it - and all we know about 'em is the names of the Kings and some copies of wheat contracts and...the sale of slaves.

(more)

-16-

MR CRAVEN:

(Cont'd)

And yet every night all those families sat down to
supper, and the father came home from work, and the
smoke went up the chimney - same as here. Same as in
Greece and Rome - and we don't know anything about 'em.
So I'm going to have a copy of this play put in the
cornerstone, and the people a thousand years from
now'll know a few simple facts about us - more than the
history-books'll tell.

See what I mean?

They'll know we were Christians, and we et three times
a day, and rested on Sundays, and...(A PAUSE) oh, yes,
at death people were buried in the ground just as they
are.

Well, we'll return now to our day in Grover's Corners.
It's evening now. You can hear choir practice going on
in the Congregational Church. (HE PAUSES, WHILE A CHOIR
BEGINS TO SING "BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS" TO THE
ACCOMPANIMENT OF AN ORGAN, VERY FAINTLY. AFTER A
MOMENT HE RESUMES, BUT THE CHOIR CONTINUES VERY FAINTLY
BEHIND THE DIALOGUE UNTIL CUED OUT) All the children
are at home doing their school work. The day is running
down like a tired clock. There's young George Gibbs
up there in his room, rassling with his arithmetic,
and lookin' up once in a while to see Emily Webb across
the way in her room, alongside her window:

-17-

GEORGE: ...times seven dollars and - (HE GETS UP AND WALKS TO THE OPEN WINDOW) Doggone it. (CALLS SOFTLY) Hey, Emily.

EMILY: (AS FAR OFF AS POSSIBLE) Hello.

(THEIR DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP IS MAINTAINED THROUGHOUT THE SCENE)

GEORGE: Hello.

EMILY: (AFTER A BRIEF PAUSE) I can't work at all. The moonlight's so <u>terrible</u>.

GEORGE: The what?

EMILY: Moonlight. It's terrible.

GEORGE: Oh. (A LITTLE SHAMEFACEDLY) Did you get the third problem, Emily?

EMILY: Which one?

GEORGE: The third one.

EMILY: Why, yes; that's the easiest of 'em all.

GEORGE: Hm. (A PAUSE) Hey, Emily, can you give me a hint?

EMILY: Well (CONSIDERING) I'll tell you one thing: the answer's in yards.

GEORGE: (SHOCKED) Yards.

EMILY: <u>Square</u> yards.

GEORGE: Oh...<u>square</u> yards.

EMILY: Square yards of wallpaper.

GEORGE: (DUBIOUSLY) Well...thanks a lot, Emily.

EMILY: You're welcome. My, isn't the moonlight <u>terrible</u>? And choir-practice going on....

GEORGE: It's so quiet....

EMILY: What?

GEORGE: It's quiet.

DR GIBBS: (OFF) George!

-18-

GEORGE: G'night, Emily. (SHE SAYS "GOOD NIGHT") Yes, Pa?

DR GIBBS: George, come downstairs a minute, will you?

(MUSIC OUT)

GEORGE: Sure, pa. (HE WALKS A FEW STEPS AND CLATTERS DOWN A STAIR) What'd you want, Pa?

DR GIBBS: Make yourself comfortable, George; I'll only keep you a minute. George, how old are you?

GEORGE: Why...sixteen, going on seventeen.

DR GIBBS: Mm-hm. Sit down, George. (GEORGE COMPLIES) What do you want to do after school's over?

GEORGE: Why, you know, Pa. Uncle Luke's farm...

DR GIBBS: Be willing, will you, to get up early and milk and feed the stock...and you'll be able to hoe and hay all day?

GEORGE: Sure, Pa. What do you mean, Pa?

DR GIBBS: Well...I was in my office today, and I heard a funny sound. And what do you think it was? It was your mother chopping wood.

GEORGE: Gee...

DR GIBBS: She gets up early, cooks meals all day long...washes and irons...and still she has to go out and chop wood. I suppose she just got tired of asking you. She just gave up and decided it was easier to do it herself!

GEORGE: Well...

DR GIBBS: And you eat her meals, and put on the clothes she keeps nice for you, and you run off and play baseball - like she's some hired girl we keep around but don't like very much.

GEORGE: Well, gee, Pa....

-19-

DR GIBBS: Well, I knew all I had to do was call your attention to it. Here's a handkerchief, son. (GEORGE BLOWS HIS NOSE) George, I've decided to raise your spending-money twentyfive cents a week. Not, of course, for chopping wood for your mother, because that's a present you give her, but because you're getting older - and I imagine there are lots of things you must find to do with it.

GEORGE: Thanks, Pa.

DR GIBBS: That was all I wanted, George. Tomorrow's payday. You can count on it. Wonder what could have happened to your Ma. Choir practice was never as late as this.

GEORGE: It's only half-past eight, Pa.

DR GIBBS: Don't know what she wants to be in that choir for... traipsin' around the streets this hour of the night... just about time you retired, don't you think, son?

GEORGE: Yes, Pa. (HE STARTS AWAY)

MR CRAVEN: Mrs Gibbs's on the way home, now, Doc.

DR GIBBS: Oh, thanks. (HE GETS UP AND OPENS A DOOR. DISTANT LAUGHTER AND TALK FADES IN BEHIND MR CRAVEN)

MR CRAVEN: Mrs. Soams and Mr Foster and Mrs Gibbs and Mrs Webb, quite a few of 'em, and people leaving the little group at each corner:

MRS GIBBS: (CLOSER, BUT STILL OFF) Good-night, Martha. Good-night, Mr. Foster. (TWO VOICES, FARTHER OFF, ANSWER "GOODNIGHT")
(THE VOICES FADE IN UNTIL THEY ARE NEARLY ON MIKE:)

-20-

MRS GIBBS: Real nice choir-practice, wasn't it? Look at that moon, will you?

MRS WEBB: My, it's late.

MRS SOAMES: Naturally, I didn't want to say a word about it in front of those others, but now we're alone - really, it's the worst scandal ever was in this town!

MRS GIBBS: What is, Mrs Soames?

MRS SOAMES: Why, Simon Stimson!

MRS GIBBS: Now, Louella!

MRS SOAMES: But, Julia! To have the organist of the church drink and drink year after year! You know he was drunk tonight at choir practice!

MRS GIBBS: Well, you know all the trouble he's been through, Mrs Soames....

MRS SOAMES: Yes, but -

MRS WEBB: Well, if Dr. Ferguson wants to keep him on -

MRS GIBBS: Sure; all the rest of us can do is just not to notice it.

MRS SOAMES: But it's gettin' worse!

MRS WEBB: No, it isn't, Louella. I've been in that choir twice as long as you have.

MRS GIBBS: And it doesn't happen nearly so often.

MRS SOAMES: Well -

MRS WEBB: My, I hate to go to bed on a night like this. Well, goodnight, Louella.

(THE OTHERS SAY GOOD NIGHT)

MRS GIBBS: Can you get home safe, Louella?

MRS SOAMES: (GOING) Oh, it's as bright as day. And I can see my husband scowlin' out the window from here. You'd think we'd been to a dance the way the men carry on. (OFF) Well, good night.

-21-

MRS GIBBS: Good night. (SHE HUMS "BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS" FOR JUST A MOMENT.) Well, Frank! (IN MILD SURPRISE)

DR GIBBS: Saw you stopping at the corner to gossip with a lot of hens.

MRS GIBBS: Now, Frank, don't be grouchy. (THE DOOR CLOSES AS SHE ENTERS) What did you do?

DR GIBBS: Oh, I read, as usual. What were the girls gossiping about?

MRS GIBBS: Oh Simon Stimson, as usual.

DR GIBBS: He bad again?

MRS GIBBS: Worst I've ever seen him.

DR GIBBS: Hm.

MRS GIBBS: I just wonder how long Dr Ferguson'll keep on forgiving him.

DR GIBBS: Come on, Julia, it's getting late. (OFF A LITTLE) Well, I gave George a piece of my mind tonight. Reckon you'll have your wood chopped for a while anyway. No, start getting upstairs.

MRS GIBBS: Oh, dear. There's always so many things to pick up, seems like. Frank, that Mrs Fairchild locks her front door every night. All those people up that part of town do.

DR GIBBS: They're getting citified, that's the trouble with them. (GOING AWAY) They haven't got nothing fir to burgle (YAWNS) and everybody knows it. Come on to bed.

MR CRAVEN: Yep...gettin' on towards nine oclock. Most of the lights are out. No, there's Constable Webb trying a few doors on Main Street. And here comes Editor Webb, after putting his newspaper to bed.

(FOOTSTEPS HAVE FADED IN, APPROACHING, BEGINNING AT "HERE COMES, ETC")

-22-

MR WEBB: (COMING IN) Good evening, Bill.

CONSTABLE WARREN: 'Evenin', Mr Webb.

MR WEBB: Quite a moon.

CONSTABLE: Yep.

MR WEBB: All quiet tonight?

CONSTABLE: Simon Stimson's rollin' around a little. Just saw his
wife movin' out to hunt for him. Here he comes now.

(THE FOOTSTEPS OF A DRUNKEN MAN FADE IN. HE
IS NOT COCKEYED, BUT RATHER UNSTEADY. HE GOES
RIGHT ON PAST AS THEY SPEAK TO HIM)

MR WEBB: Good evening, Simon. Town seems to have settled down for
the night pretty well. (PAUSE) Eh, Simon? I...I guess
we better do the same. Can I walk along a ways with you?
(A PAUSE AS SIMON GOES ON) Well, goodnight.

CONSTABLE: I don't know how that's going to end, Mr. Webb.

MR WEBB: (LOOKING AFTER SIMON) Poor fella. Well, good night, Bill.

CONSTABLE: Good night, Mr. Webb.

(MR WEBB STARTS ON, SOFTLING WHISTLING "BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS")

MR CRAVEN: That's the end of the first act, friends. Now the
orchestra'll play for a little bit, and then we'll go on
with the play. I'll be back. We'll all be back. You stay
there and wait.

(MUSIC...THE ORCHESTRA TUNES ITS INSTRUMENTS BRIEFLY, THEN BEGINS A KIND OF PARAPHRASE OF "BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS" AFTER ABOUT THIRTY-FIVE SECONDS WE HEAR:)

MR CRAVEN: (QUIETLY) You about to the end of that piece?

CONDUCTOR: What? Oh, only about sixteen bars, Mr. Craven.

MR CRAVEN: All right. We're all ready.

CONDUCTOR: All right.

(MUSIC...TO THE END, ABOUT SIXTEEN BARS)

-23-

MR. CRAVEN: Thank you, boys. Well, this is the Second Act. The first one was called The Daily Life. This one is called Love and Marriage. There's another act coming after this: I reckon you can guess what that's about.

So. It's three years later. It's 1904. The suns's come up over a thousand times since the first act ended. Some babies that weren't even born before have begun talking regular sentences already; and a number of people who thought they were right young have noticed that they can't bound up a flight of stairs like they used to, without their heart fluttering a little.

Summers and winters have cracked the mountains a little bit more, and the rains have brought down some of the dirt. Nature's been pushing and contriving in other ways, too: a number of young people fell in love and got married. Almost everybody in the world gets married - you know what I mean? In our town there aren't hardly any exceptions. Most everybody in the world climbs into their graves married. Well,

It's the seventh of July, just after High School Commencement. That's the time most young folks jump up and get married. Soon as they've passed their last examinations in solid geometry and Cicero's Orations, looks like they suddenly feel themselves fit to be married.

SOUND: (THE RAIN SLOWLY FADES IN FOR BACKGROUND)

(MORE)

-24-

MR. CRAVEN:
(CONT'D)

It's early morning again. Only this time it's raining. Been pouring and thundering. Mrs. Gibbs' garden, and Mrs. Webb's, here - drenched. (A TRAIN WHISTLE IN THE FAR DISTANCE) There! You can hear the 5:45 for Boston. And the rain looks like curtains being blown along. Here comes (FADE IN HORSE IN MUD) Howie Newsom delivering the milk, and there goes young SI Crowell, delivering the papers like his brother Joe did before him - you remember about his brother: all that education he's going to get and that'll be wasted?

SI CROWELL: (AS THE MILK-WAGON PULLS UP) Hi, Howie.

HOWIE NEWSOM: Mornin', SI. Anything in the papers I ought to know?

SI: Nothing much, except we're losin' about the best baseball pitcher Grover's Corners ever had.

HOWIE: Reckon he was.

SI: Hit and run bases, too.

HOWIE: Mighty fine ball-player. Bessie! I guess I can stop and talk baseball if I've a mind to.

SI: I don't see how he could give up a thing like that just to get married. Would you, Howie?

HOWIE: Can't tell, SI. Never had no talent that way.

MR. CRAVEN: They're both worked up over George Gibbs' retiring from baseball. (IN THE BACKGROUND, SI AND HOWIE SAY GOODBYE AND THE MILKWAGON DRIVES ON PAST) Well, Mr. Gibbs is standing there at the door: probably wants extra milk today, with all the relatives and such bein' there for the wedding. Practically everybody's going to be at the wedding. Well, Doc Gibbs has come down to breakfast, so we'll look in there a minute.

-25-

DR. GIBBS: (SITTING DOWN) Well, Ma, the day's come. You're losin' one of your chicks.

MRS. GIBBS: Frank Gibbs, don't you say another word. I feel like crying every minute. Drink your coffee. (SHE POURS COFFEE)

DR. GIBBS: (TAKING SUGAR) The groom's up shaving himself. Whistling and singing like he's glad to leave us. Every once in a while he says "I do" to the mirror, but it don't sound very convincing. (HE TAKES A DRINK OF COFFEE)

MRS. GIBBS: I declare I don't know how he'll get along.

DR. GIBBS: He'll do all right.

MRS. GIBBS: Frank! They're too young! Emily won't think of things. He'll catch his death of cold in a week.

DR. GIBBS: Now, now, Julia. Ha, French toast!

MRS. GIBBS: 'Tain't hard to make, and I had to do something.

DR. GIBBS: I remember my wedding morning, Julia.

MRS. GIBBS: Now, don't start that, Frank Gibbs. I tell you I can't stand it.

DR. GIBBS: (CHUCKLES) I was the scaredest young fellow in the state of New Hampshire. Thought I'd make a mistake for sure.

MRS. GIBBS: How do you think I felt?

DR. GIBBS: I saw you comin' down the aisle, and I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen, only I'd never seen you before. There I was in the Congregational Church marryin' a total stranger. (HE DRINKS COFFEE AGAIN)

SOUND: (GEORGE COMES RATTLING DOWN THE STEPS, VERY BRISK)

-26-

GEORGE: Good morning, everybody! Only five more hours to live.

MRS. GIBBS: Oh, George!

DR. GIBBS: Where you going, George?

GEORGE: Just across the grass to see my best girl.

MRS. GIBBS: George! Take an umbrella! It's pouring!

GEORGE: (OPENING A DOOR) Oh, ma!

MRS. GIBBS: From tomorrow on you can kill yourself anyway you want to; but while you're in my house you'll live wisely, thank you.

DR. GIBBS: Take a cup of coffee first, George.

GEORGE: (GOING) I'll be right back!

SOUND: (THE DOOR SLAMS)

MR. CRAVEN: There's an old superstition that a fellow shouldn't see his bride nor she him on their wedding day till they meet at the church. Mrs. Webb, Emily's mother, believes in that: I don't know how her father feels.

MR. WEBB: Well, I tell you, there's a lot of common sense in some superstitions.

MRS. WEBB: Millions have followed it, George, and you don't want to be the first to fly in the face of custom.

GEORGE: Well, how is Emily?

MRS. WEBB: She hasn't waked up yet.

GEORGE: She's asleep!

MRS. WEBB: You sit down and have a cup of coffee, George; I'll go upstairs and see she doesn't come down and surprise you. (GOING) Some bacon, too; but don't be long about it.

GEORGE: (SITTING DOWN) Superstitions!

-27-

MR. WEBB: Well, on her wedding morning, a girl's head is apt to be full of ... clothes and things like that, George.

GEORGE: Oh, (HE POURS HIMSELF A CUP OF COFFEE) I'd never thought of that. (HE DRINKS) All this marchin' up and down. Say, Mr. Webb, how old were you when you got married?

MR. WEBB: Have some bacon. (GEORGE: NO, THANKS) Why, I'd been to college and I'd taken a little time to get settled. But Mrs. Webb - she wasn't much older in Emily is. Oh, age hasn't much to do with it.

GEORGE: Yeh, I suppose.

MR. WEBB: George, I was thinking of some advice my father gave me when I got married. Charles, he said, Charles, start out early showing who's boss, he said. Best thing to do is give an order, he said, even though it don't make sense; just so she'll learn to obey. (HE DRINKS COFFEE)

GEORGE: But, Mr. Webb -

MR. WEBB: (SETTING DOWN HIS CUP) And he said: If anything about your wife irritates you, just get up and leave the house. That'll make it clear to her, he said.

GEORGE: Gee, but -

MR. WEBB: And oh, yes! He said never, _never_ let your wife know how much money you have. Never.

GEORGE: Well, I don't think I could ...

MR. WEBB: So I took the opposite of my father's advice, and I've been happy ever since. And let that be a lesson to you, George, never to ask advice on personal matters. Are you going to raise chickens on your farm?

GEORGE: What?

-28-

MR. WEBB: Raise chickens? On your farm?

GEORGE: Oh. Well, Uncle Luke's never been much interested, but -

MR. WEBB: I'm thinking of beginning in a small way myself. Put an incubator -

MRS. WEBB: (COMING IN) Charles are you talking about that incubator again? I thought you'd be talking something worth while.

GEORGE: Well, we just -

MRS. WEBB: Now, George, I'm sorry, but I've got to send you away so Emily can come down and have her breakfast. She sends you her love but she doesn't want to set eyes on you. So good-by.

MR. CRAVEN: Well, thank you. Mr. and Mrs. Webb, and George, too. Now I have to interrupt here again. You see, we want to know how all this began: this wedding, this plan to spend a lifetime together. I'm always interested in how big things like that begin.

George and Emily are going to show you now the conversation they had when they first knew that ... well, as the saying goes, that they were made for each other.

But before they do it, I want you to try and remember what it was like when you were young, when you were fifteen or sixteen. Particularly the days when you were first in love; when you were like a person sleepwalking ... and you were a little bit crazy. Will you remember that, please?

It's June - a year ago. Emily came into the drugstore after school one day:

-29-

SOUND: (A SCREEN DOOR SLAMS AFTER HER)

EMILY: (COMING IN) G'bye, Ernestine. G'bye, Fred. G'bye, Helen. Hello, Mr Morgan.

MR MORGAN: Hello, Emily. Hear you was elected secretary of the Senior Class.

EMILY: Mm-hm. (SHE PUTS HER BOOKS ON THE COUNTER)

MR MORGAN: Well, let me buy you a phosphate in honour of the occasion. What flavour?

EMILY: Oh, no, Mr Morgan. I'll pay for it.

SOUND: (THE DOOR IS YANKED OPEN)

GEORGE: (OFF) I'll be with you in about fifteen minutes. Oh, hello, Emily. You get everything going, Bob. If I'm a little late start practice anyway. And give Herb some long high ones. His eye needs a lot of practice. (THE DOOR SLAMS) Hello, Emily. Hello, Mr Morgan.

EMILY: Hello, George.

MR MORGAN: Hello, George.

EMILY: George was elected president of the class.

GEORGE: (COMING IN) Yeh, and I'm going to buy you a strawberry ice-cream soda, Emily.

MR MORGAN: Well!

EMILY: No, George.

GEORGE: I insist.

MR MORGAN: 'Scuse me a minute, there's Miss Ellis. (GOING AWAY) Afternoon, Miss Ellis.

GEORGE: What's the matter, Emily?

EMILY: Nothing.

GEORGE: Well, there must be!

-30-

EMILY: No, there isn't.

GEORGE: But, Emily - (HE PLEADS) What's the matter, Emily?
Are you mad at me?

EMILY: No.

GEORGE: Well, you treat me so funny.

EMILY: (AFTER A PAUSE) Well, I might as well say it right out, George. I don't like the whole change that's come over you in the last year. I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings, but I've just got to tell the truth and shame the devil.

GEORGE: (GENUINELY PUZZLED) But I don't know what you mean, Emily.

EMILY: Well, up to a year ago I used to like you a lot. We'd been friends so long ... and then you began spending all your time at baseball...and you never even spoke to anybody any more; not even to your own family you didn't. And, George, it's a fact, you've got awful conceited and stuck-up, and all the girls say so. (SHE PAUSES AND SNIFFLES A LITTLE) I'm sorry, George. But I can't be sorry I said it.

GEORGE: I...I'm glad you said it, Emily. I...I guess it's hard for a fella not to have faults creep into his character.

EMILY: I always expect a man to be perfect, and I think he should be.

GEORGE: I don't think it's possible to be perfect, Emily.

EMILY: I think it is.

GEORGE: Well, maybe for a girl.

EMILY: For anybody.

-31-

GEORGE: Well...I'm sorry, Emily. I didn't realise.

EMILY: I know you didn't, George.

GEORGE: I'll change.

EMILY: I know you will, George.

GEORGE: I sure will.

MR MORGAN: (COMING BACK) Well, now, about that ice-cream soda.
What flavour?

GEORGE: Strawberry} TOGETHER
EMILY: Strawberry}

MR MORGAN: All right! (HE GOES ABOUT MAKING THE SODAS)

GEORGE: When I go away to State Agricultural College, Emily,
will you write me letters once in a while?

EMILY: Oh, yes.

GEORGE: Thanks.

EMILY: I should think being away three years at school you'd
get awfully out of touch with things.

GEORGE: No, I won't do that. But I want to know everything that
goes on here, see? The day wouldn't come when I wouldn't
want to know everything that's happening here. I know
that's true, Emily.

EMILY: Well, I'll try to keep my letters interesting.

MR MORGAN: (HANDING OUT THE SODAS) There y'are. Strawberry
(SETTING ONE DOWN) and strawberry.

EMILY: Thanks, Mr Morgan.

MR MORGAN: All right. (THE DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES IN THE BG)
Afternoon, Mrs Foster. (HE GOES AWAY AS EMILY AND GEORGE
START TO DRINK THEIR SODAS)

-32-

GEORGE: (THROUGH HIS SODA-STRAW) Know, I've been asking a lot of farmers about how important it is to go to Agricultural School.

EMILY: That so?

GEORGE: Some of 'em say it's even a waste of time.

EMILY: Really?

GEORGE: Sure. You can get all that stuff out of Government pamphlets and so on. And Uncle Luke's getting old - he's about ready for me to start taking over his farm tomorrow, if I could.

EMILY: But, George, maybe it's very important for you to learn cattle-judging and soils and all those things.

GEORGE: I'm not so sure. Emily.

EMILY: (THROUGH HER SODA) What?

GEORGE: I'm going to make up my mind right now.

EMILY: You are!

GEORGE: I won't go. I'll tell my Pa about it tonight.

EMILY: But, George - I don't see why you have to decide right now. It's a whole year away.

GEORGE: You want me to tell you why I'm not going?

EMILY: Why, George - yes!

GEORGE: Well - (HE APPLIES HIMSELF TO THE SODA FOR A SECOND) in the first place I'm glad you told me about that - that fault in my character. What you said was right, but there was one thing wrong in it. (HE SLURPS SODA FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE GLASS) That was when you said I wasn't noticing people.

EMILY: But you -

-33-

GEORGE: Listen, Emily - you said you were watching me when I did everything. Why, I was doing the same thing about you all the time. I always thought about you as one of the chief people I thought about,

EMILY: Why, George! Life's awful funny! How could I have known that? Why, I thought -

GEORGE: Listen, Emily. You know why I decided not to go to Agricultural School? Well, I'll tell you. I think that once a person's found a person that you're very fond of ...I mean that's fond of you, too - at least enough to be interested in your character - well ... well, that's why I think that's just as important as college is. Don't you?

EMILY: I think...it's awfully important, too.

GEORGE: Emily.

EMILY: Yes, George.

GEORGE: Emily, if I improve and make a big change...would you be ...I mean could you be...

EMILY: I...I am now. I always have been.

GEORGE: (AFTER A PAUSE, A DEEP BREATH) I guess this is an important talk we've been having.

EMILY: Yes.

GEORGE: (GETTING UP) Wait a minute and I'll take you home.
(RAISING HIS VOICE) Oh, Mr Morgan.

MR MORGAN: (COMING BACK) Well, George?

GEORGE: Mr Morgan, I'll have to go home and get the money to pay you for this. It'll only take me a minute.

MR MORGAN: Why, George Gibbs, do you mean to tell me -

-34-

GEORGE: Look, Mr Morgan, I didn't think. Look, here's my gold watch to keep till I come back with the money.

MR MORGAN: That's all right. I'll trust you,

GEORGE: I'll be right back.

MR MORGAN: I'll trust you ten years, George, not a day more.

GEORGE: Well, thanks...come on, Emily.

MR CRAVEN: Thank you, George. Thank you, Emily. Now there's still a few details we ought to know about this marriage, I want to know how the parents took it; but what I want to know, too, is how Grover's Corners thought about marriage anyway. You know well's I do: people are never able to say right out what they think of money, or death, or fame, or marriage. You've got to catch it between the lines - you've got to overhear it. Oh, Doctor! Mrs Gibbs!

DR GIBBS: I had a long talk with the boy today.

MRS GIBBS: Did you?

DR GIBBS: I always come away feeling like a soggy hyprocrite.

MRS GIBBS: Well, a mother and a daughter's no picnic, let me tell you.

DR GIBBS: What you ironing?

MRS GIBBS: Your shirts. George is set on it, all right, ain't he?

DR GIBBS: Yep. Wants to marry her soon's school's out and take her right out on the farm. (WE HEAR THE THUMP OF HER IRON A MOMENT) What'd you say?

MRS GIBBS: I didn't say anything. (SHE IRONS A MOMENT) George is a lucky boy when you think of all the silly girls in the world.

-35-

DR GIBBS: But, Julia - George _married!_

MRS GIBBS: I know, Frank, what do you do to your collars? Do you gnaw 'em? I never saw such a man for collars. (SHE SETS THE IRON DOWN ON THE METAL HOLDER)

DR GIBBS: You know, when you and I got married, one of the things I was the most afraid of was we wouldn't have material enough for conversation to last us more'n a few weeks. (SHE LAUGHS BRIEFLY) Funny: you and I've been conversing for twenty years now without any noticeable barren spells.

MRS GIBBS: Well, good weather, bad weather, 'tain't very choice, but I always manage to find something to say. (SHE STARTS IRONING AGAIN)

DR GIBBS: What do you think? Shall we tell the boy to go ahead and get married?

MRS GIBBS: Well, Myrtle and Charles Webb're willing. They believe in sink or swim.

DR GIBBS: But have we got to decide this minute?

MRS GIBBS: There you go putting the responsibility on me!

DR GIBBS: No...no, Julia. But...(A PAUSE) You've nothing more to add?

MRS GIBBS: (SETTING DOWN HER IRON) I don't know what to say. Seems it's too much to ask a big outdoor boy like that, to go and be shup up in classrooms for three years. And once he's on the farm, with Emily...people are meant to live by two and two in this world...(SHE MOVES AWAY TO THE STOVE AND IS HEARD CHANGING IRONS) Yes, Frank, go up and tell him about it.

DR GIBBS: Well, I - (HE MOVES AWAY)

MRS GIBBS: Only...I was thinking about all those times we went through in the first years when George and Rebecca were babies...whooping-cough, the time George fell off the porch...(COMING BACK) You and I were twenty-five years old - (THEN WITH DECISION) Yes, Frank, go upstairs and tell him. It's worth it.

DR GIBBS: Oh, they'll have a lot of troubles, but that's none of our business. (HE COMES BACK) Say, Julia, you ought to be present - important occasion like this. I'll call him. (RAISES HIS VOICE) George! Oh, George!

GEORGE: (OFF) Yes, Pa.

DR GIBBS: Can you come down a minute? Your mother and I want to speak to you.

MR CRAVEN: Thank you! Thank you! Now we're ready to go on with the wedding. In this wedding I play the minister, and for a while now, the play gets pretty serious.

Some churches say marriage is a sacrament. I'm not sure what that means, but I can guess, just like you can. Like Mrs Gibbs said a few minutes ago - people were meant to live by two and two.

This is a good wedding, but people are so put together that even at good weddings there's a lot of confusion 'way down deep in people's minds; and we thought that ought to be in the play. Take for instance Mrs Webb, Emily's mother:

-37-

MRS WEBB: I don't know why on earth I should be crying; I suppose there's nothing to cry about. It came over me at breakfast; there was Emily eating her breakfast same's she's done it for seventeen years, and now she's going off to eat it in somebody else's house. I suppose that's it. But when I cried, Emily cried too.

MR CRAVEN: And there's the baseball team that George was the pitcher on.

PLAYER 1: (OFF) Yay, George, George!

PLAYER 2: (CLOSER) George, if you need any help, we'll be right here! (THEY LAUGH, NOT UNKINDLY)

PLAYER 3: (CLOSER) Don't disgrace the team, big boy! (THEY LAUGH AGAIN)

MR CRAVEN: There used to be an awful lot of that kind of thing at weddings in the old days - Rome, and later. We're more civilised now, so they say. Well, the wedding's about to start.

(MUSIC: HANDEL'S "LARGO" SOFTLY ON THE ORGAN FOR BG)

MR CRAVEN: But there's still a few that has to have their say: George, for instance:

GEORGE: (TO HIMSELF) I wish I were back at school...I don't want to get married ...

MRS GIBBS: (SHARP WHISPER) George, what's the matter?

GEORGE: (THE LITTLE BOY NOW) Ma, I don't want to get old. Why's everybody pushing me so?

MRS GIBBS: Why, George, you wanted it.

GEORGE: Why do I have to get married at all? (AS IF HE'S NOT TALKING TO HIS MOTHER AT ALL)

-38-

MRS GIBBS: George! If anybody should hear you!

GEORGE: (COMING TO) What? Why, Ma, what's the matter? Where's Emily?

MRS GIBBS: George, you gave me such a turn!

GEORGE: Cheer up, Ma. Cheer up, I'm getting married! What're you looking so funny for?

(MUSIC: "LOVE DIVINE, ALL LOVE EXCELLING"...CHOIR BEGINS AND STAYS IN BG)

MR CRAVEN: Yes, and there's Emily:

EMILY: I never felt so alone in my whole life. I....I wish I were dead. Papa! Papa!

MR WEBB: (COMING IN) Now, Emily! Don't get upset!

EMILY: But Papa, I don't want to get married...

MR WEBB: Shhh...everything's all right...

EMILY: Oh, Papa, no...why can't I stay for a while just as I am? Let's go away.

MR WEBB: No, Emily, stop and think....

EMILY: But, Papa ...

MR WEBB: George! George!

GEORGE: Yes, sir?

MR WEBB: George, I'm giving away my daughter. Do you think you can take care of her?

GEORGE: Mr Webb, I want to...I want to try. Emily, I'm going to do my best. I love you. I need you.

EMILY: Well, if you love me, help me. All I want is someone to love me.

GEORGE: I will, Emily.

-39-

EMILY: If I'm ever sick or in trouble, that's what I mean!

GEORGE: Emily, I'll try. I'll try.

EMILY: And I mean for ever. Do you hear? For ever and ever!

(MUSIC: THE WEDDING MARCH FROM LOHENGRIN, ORGAN, AND FADE BEHIND)

MR CRAVEN: All right, George and Emily.

(MUSIC: THE WEDDING MARCH A LITTLE LONGER, AND FADE TO BG FOR)

MR CRAVEN: Do you, George, take this woman, Emily, to be your wedded wife, to have -

MRS SOAMES: (UP CLOSE) Perfectly lovely wedding!

MRS FOSTER: (UP CLOSE) Loveliest wedding I ever saw.

MRS SOAMES: I love a good wedding, don't you?

MR CRAVEN: Do you, Emily, take this man, George, to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold -

MRS SOAMES: (UP CLOSE) Don't know when I've seen such a lovely wedding!

MRS FOSTER: I always cry, though, don't you?

MRS SOAMES: Oh, yes, I always cry. But I love to see young people happy.

MRS FOSTER: Oh, I think it's lovely.

(AND THE MUSIC STOPS... IN THE SILENCE, MR CRAVEN SPEAKS)

MR CRAVEN: I've married two hundred couples in my day.

Do I believe in it? I don't know.

The cottage, the go-cart, the Sunday afternoon drives in
the Ford, the first rheumatism, the grandchildren, the
second rheumatism, the deathbed, the reading of the will-
once in a thousand times it's interesting.

Well, let's have Mendelssohn's Wedding March.

-40

(MUSIC: MENDELSSOHN WEDDING MARCH ...ORGAN
AND OVER IT, STRIDENTLY)

MRS SOAMES: Aren't they a lovely couple? Oh, I've never been to such a nice wedding!

MRS FOSTER: I'm sure they'll be happy!

MRS SOAMES: (CLOSER THAN EVER) Happiness! That's the great thing!
I always say the important thing is to be happy!

(MUSIC: THE ORGAN DIES AWAY)

MR CRAVEN: That's all the second Act. Have you got some music for a minute, boys?

(MUSIC: THE ORCHESTRA TUNES UP BRIEFLY, THEN GOES INTO A NUMBER
BUILT ON THE MENDELSSOHN WEDDING MARCH. AS IT FINISHES:

CONDUCTOR: That's all we got, Mr Craven. Are you ready?

MR CRAVEN: Yes, I'm ready. Everybody else ready?

VOICES:
(QUIETLY, NOT YELLING) All ready, Mr Craven.
Yes, sir, go ahead.
All ready.
Whenever you want to start, Mr Craven.

MR CRAVEN: All right. This time nine years have gone by, friends -
summer, 1913. Gradual changes in Grover's Corners.
Horses getting rarer; farmers coming into town in Fords.
People lock their houses now at night. Ain't been any
burglars in town yet, but everybody's heard about 'em.
But you'd be surprised, though - on the whole, things
don't change much in Grover's Corners.

(more)

-41-

MR CRAVEN:
(CONT'D)

Up here on the hill up above the town it's certainly a beautiful place. A windy hilltop...lots of sky, lots of clouds, often lots of sun and moon and stars. You come up here on a fine afternoon, and you can see range on range of hills - awful blue they are - up there by Lake Sunapee and Lake Winepesaukee...and way up, if you've got a glass, you can see the White Mountains and Mt Washington...and of course, our favourite mountain, Mt Monadnock's right here. And all around it lie these towns - Jaffrey, 'n' East Jaffrey, 'n' Peterborough (WE GET THE IMPRESSION HE IS TURNING AROUND) 'n' Dublin... and there (OFF A LITTLE) quite a ways down, is Grover's Corners. Yes, beautiful spot up here. Mountain laurel and lilacs. (COMING BACK) I often wonder why people like to be buried in Woodlawn and Brooklyn when they might pass the same time up here in New Hampshire.

Over in that corner (TURNING) are the old gravestones: 1670, 1680. Strong-minded people that came a long way to be independent. Summer people walk around here laughing at the funny words on the tombstones...it don't do any harm. (TURNING BACK) Over there are the Civil War veterans. Iron flags on their graves. New Hampshire boys - had a notion that that Union ought to be kept together, though they'd never seen more than fifty miles of it temselves. All they knew was that name, United States of America. And they went and died about it.

(more)

42

MR CRAVEN:
(CONT)

This here is the new part of the cemetery. Here's your
friend Mrs Gibbs. Here's Mr Stimson, the organist and
choir-master at the Congregational Church. And there's
Mrs Soames, who enjoyed the wedding so - you remember?
And lots of others - Editor Webb's boy, Wally, whose
appendix burst while he was on a Boy Scout trip up to
Crawford Notch.

Yes, an awful lot of sorrow has sort of quieted down up
here. You know, everybody knows that something is
eternal. It ain't houses, and it ain't names, and it
ain't earth. It ain't even the stars. I don't know what
it is, but whatever it is has to do with human beings.

The dead don't stay interested in us living people for
long. They get weaned away from earth; they stay here
while the earth-part of 'em burns out, and they slowly
get indifferent to what's going on in Grover's Corners.

They're waitin'.

They're all here, waitin'.

Listen to 'em: Mrs Gibbs and Mr Stimson, Mrs Soames and
old Lemuel Kincaid that was killed by Indians in 1741;
the Webb boy and Elisabeth Warren, who died at the age
of eleven on the Fourth of July, 1779. Listen to 'em:

-43-

VOICES: (VERY QUIETLY AND DISTANT) Going to rain.
Rain'll do a lot of good.
Things were gettin' downright parched.
Lemuel, remember the floods of '39?
There was a flood in 1888, carried away all the bridges
but one.
Startin' to rain now.

SOUND: (SOFTLY AND SLOWLY THE SOUND OF WIND AND RAIN COMES UP AND THE VOICES ARE WASHED OUT IN THE SOUND)
Startin' to rain.
I always liked the rain.
Not the thunder, though.
Startin' to rain again....

MR CRAVEN: The dead ain't all that's here, though. Here's a livin' man: Joe Stoddard, the undertaker. Gettin' a grave ready.

JOE STODDARD: Yep. I always hate to supervise when a young person is taken. The rain, too, that makes it sadder still.
They'll be here in a few minutes. I had to come early
today: my son's supervisin' at the home.

SIMON STIMSON: (BITTERLY, BUT QUIETLY) I'm always uncomfortable when they're around.

MRS GIBBS: Now, Simon.

SIMON: They and their nonsense and their glee at bein' alive.

MRS GIBBS: Simon, be patient.

-44-

MR CRAVEN: That's Simon Stimson, organist at the church. They tried to hush it up; he hung himself in the attic. His wife's just married Senator Barstow. Many a time I've seen her, eleven o'clock at night, goin' around the streets huntin' for her husband.

JOE STODDARD: The grave's going to be over there. Ain't much more room here among the Gibbses, so they're opening up a whole new Gibbs section along by Avenue B. You'll excuse me now. I see they're comin'. (HE GOES)

SOUND: (THE SOUND OF THE RAIN FOR A MOMENT. THEN:)

MRS SOAMES: Who is it, Julia?

MRS GIBBS: My daughter-in-law, Emily Webb.

MRS SOAMES: (UNEMOTIONALLY) Well, I declare. The road up here must've been awfully muddy. What did she die of, Julia?

MRS GIBBS: Childbirth.

MRS SOAMES: Childbirth. (ALMOST WITH A LAUGH) I'd forgotten all about that. My, wasn't life awful - (SHE SIGHS) - and wonderful.

SIMON STIMSON: Wonderful, was it?

MRS GIBBS: Simon! Now remember.

MRS SOAMES: I remember Emily's wedding. Wasn't it a lovely wedding. I called on them at their new farm, just before I died. Perfectly beautiful farm.

A WOMAN: (OFF A LITTLE) It's on the same road we lived on.

A MAN: (OFF) I remember it. By the lake where we always used to go Fourth of July.

MRS SOAMES: Here they come.

SOUND: (THROUGH THE RAIN WE HEAR THE SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS IN THE MUD. THEY COME UP CLOSE AND HALT)

-45-

SIMON STIMSON: I hate 'em.

MRS GIBBS: Simon....

THE GROUP: (STARTS TO SING "BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS." AFTER A MOMENT:)

A WOMAN AMONG THE DEAD: I always liked that hymn. I was hopin' they'd sing a hymn.

A MAN AMONG THE DEAD: My wife - my second wife - knows all the verses of about every hymn that there is. It beats the Dutch - she can go through them all by heart.

SIMON STIMSON: They sing just as bad as they ever did.
(THE HYMN ENDS NOW, AND THERE IS NOTHING BUT THE RAIN. THEN:)

EMILY: Hello.

VOICES: Hello, Emily.
Hello, Mrs. Gibbs.
Hello, Emily.

EMILY: Hello, Mother Gibbs.

MRS GIBBS: Emily.

EMILY: Hello. It's raining.

MRS GIBBS: Yes. They'll be gone soon, dear. Just rest yourself.

(IN THE B.G. A VOICE BEGINS TO INTONE A PRAYER.
THE WORDS ARE INDISTINGUISHABLE OVER IT)

EMILY: It seems thousands and thousands of years since
I.... Mother Gibbs, do they <u>have</u> to look like
<u>that</u>?

MRS GIBBS: Don't look at them, dear. They'll be gone soon

-46-

EMILY: I wish I'd been here a long time. I don't like being new here. How do you do, Mr. Stimson?

SIMON STIMSON: How do you do, Emily?

EMILY: Mother Gibbs, George and I have made that farm into just the best place you ever saw. We thought of you all the time. We wanted to show you everything we bought out of that money you left us.

MRS GIBBS: I did?

EMILY: Don't you remember, Mother Gibbs? Three hundred and fifty dollars?

MRS GIBBS: Yes, yes, Emily.

EMILY: It won't be the same to George without me, but (WISTFULLY) it's a lovely farm. (A PAUSE) Mother, live people don't understand very much, do they?

MRS GIBBS: No, dear - not very much.

EMILY: They're sort of shut up in little boxes. It seems so long since I knew them. Oh, mother, how long does this feeling last? Of being...one of - them?

MRS GIBBS: Just be patient, dear.

EMILY: I know. (THE PRAYER STOPS) They're finished. They're going. Look, mother, here comes Father Gibbs. (A FEW SOGGY FOOTSTEPS UP AND STOP) He's bringing some of my flowers to you. He looks just like George, doesn't he? Oh, Mother Gibbs, I never realised how in the dark live persons are...how *troubled*...

(DR GIBBS' FOOTSTEPS DEPART)

-47-

**VOICES:** Little cooler than it was.
Yes, that rain's cooled it off a little.
Those Northeast winds always do the same thing.

**SOUND:** (THE WIND COMES UP AGAIN AND WASHES OUT THE VOICES
Rain's stopping now.
Yes, nice and cool now...
(THERE IS A SILENCE FOR A MOMENT)

**EMILY:** Mother Gibbs.

**MRS GIBBS:** Yes, dear.

**EMILY:** One can go back there.

**MRS GIBBS:** (AFTER A PAUSE) Yes, dear; of course you can.

**EMILY:** Just then for a moment I was thinking about...the farm...
and for a moment I was there, and my baby was on my
lap, plain as day. I could go back and live all those
days over again! Why not?

**MRS GIBBS:** All I can say is, Emily, don't.

**EMILY:** (TO MR CRAVEN) But it's true, isn't it? I can go and
live...back there...again.

**MR CRAVEN:** Yes; some have tried; but they come back here.

**MRS GIBBS:** Don't do it, Emily.

**MRS SOAMES:** (OFF) Emily, don't. It's not what you think it'd be.

**EMILY:** But I won't live over a sad day. The day I first knew
that I loved George! (THERE IS SILENCE) Why should
that be painful?

**MR CRAVEN:** You not only live in it, but you watch yourself living
it.

**EMILY:** Yes?

**MR CRAVEN:** And as you watch it, you see the thing that they - down
there - never know. The future. What's going to happen.

-48-

EMILY: But why is that painful?

MRS GIBBS: That's not the only reason, Emily. When you've been here longer you'll see that our only hope is that we'll forget all that, and think of what's ahead and be ready for it.

EMILY: But, Mother Gibbs, how can I ever forget that life?
It's all I know. It's all I had. (A PAUSE) Mr Stimson,
did you go back?

SIMON STIMSON: (SHARPLY) I did not!

EMILY: Did you, Mrs Soames?

MRS SOAMES: Oh, Emily, it isn't wise. Really, it isn't. All we can do is just warn you. It won't be what you expect.

EMILY: (AFTER A PAUSE) But it's something I must know for myself. I'll choose a happy day, anyway.

MRS GIBBS: No! At least, choose an unimportant day. Choose the least important day in your life. It'll be important enough.

EMILY: (TO MR CRAVEN) Then it can't be since I was married. I can choose a birthday, can't I? I choose my twelfth birthday.

MR CRAVEN: All right. February 11th, 1999. A Tuesday. Do you want any special time of day?

EMILY: Oh, I want the whole day.

MR CRAVEN: We'll begin at dawn. You remember it'd been snowing for several days, but it'd stopped the night before, and they'd been clearing the roads. The sun's coming up.

EMILY: (CRIES OUT) There's Main Street - why, that's Mr Morgan's drugstore before they changed it! And the livery stable - (GOING AWAY)

-49-

MR CRAVEN: Yes, it's 1899. Fourteen years ago.

EMILY: (AWAY) And look, there's the little white fence that used to be around our house! And - (COMING BACK) - are they inside?

MR CRAVEN: Yes; your mother'll becoming downstairs in a minute to make breakfast.

EMILY: Will she?

MR CRAVEN: And your father'd been away for several days; he came back on the early morning train.

EMILY: No...

MR CRAVEN: He'd been back to his college to make a speech - in Western New York, at Clinton.

SOUND: (THE SOUND OF SLEIGHBELLS APPROACHES. THE HORSE IS WALKING)

EMILY: Look! There's Howie Newsome, with the milk wagon - and sleighbells! And there's our policeman! But he's dead - he died.

HOWIE NEWSOME: (OFF) Whoa, Bessie! Bessie! 'Morning, Bill.

CONSTABLE: Morning, Howie.

HOWIE: You're up early.

CONSTABLE: Been rescuin' a party, darn near froze to death down by Polish Town thar.

HOWIE: Drunk, hey?

CONSTABLE: Yeah.

EMILY: Why, there's Joe Crowell, Junior!

JOE CROWELL: Morning, Mr Warren. Morning, Howie. (THEY EXCHANGE GREETINGS)

MRS WEBB: Children! Wally! Emily! Time to get up!

-50-

EMILY: (UP) Mama, here I am! Oh, how young Mama looks! I didn't know Mama was ever that young!

MRS WEBB: You can come and dress by the kitchen fire if you like, but hurry.

EMILY: (WITH AN EFFORT) Mama, I can't find my blue hair-ribbon.

MRS WEBB: Just open your eyes, dear, that's all. I laid it out for you special, on the dresser there. If it was a snake it could've bit you.

EMILY: Yes, yes...

MRS WEBB: Here comes your father, dear. Hurry up.

EMILY: (WHISPERS) Papa....

SOUND: (THE DOOR OPENS AND MR WEBB ENTERS, STAMPING THE SNOW OFF HIS FEET)

MR WEBB: Good morning, mother.

MRS WEBB: How did it go, Charles?

MR WEBB: Oh, fine, I guess. I told 'm a few things. Cold out.

MRS WEBB: Did you sit up on the train all night?

MR WEBB: (TAKING OFF HIS OVERSHOES) Never could sleep in a Pullman.

MRS WEBB: Oh, Charles!

MR WEBB: Paper have any mistakes in it?

MRS WEBB: None that I noticed. Coffee's warm when you want it. (MR WEBB STARTS AWAY, BUT MRS WEBB RECALLS HIM)

MRS WEBB: Charles, don't forget it's Emily's birthday.

MR WEBB: (GOING) Yes, I've got something here. (PATTING HIS POCKET)

MRS WEBB: Goodness sakes! I hope she likes what I got for her. I hunted hard enough for it. (CALLS) Chil-dren! Hurry'up!

-51-

MR WEBB: (LEAVING) Where's my girl? Where's my birthday girl?

EMILY: I can't bear it. They're so young - and so beautiful! Why did they ever have to get old? Mama, I'm here. I'm grown up, Mama! I love you all, everything! There's the butternut tree! And the Congregational Church, where I --

MR CRAVEN: You can go in if you want to, Emily.

EMILY: Oh, yes, yes - (SHE OPENS A DOOR) Good morning, Mama...
(SHE ISN'T SURE HER MOTHER WILL ANSWER)

MRS WEBB: (MATTER-OF-FACTLY) Well, now, dear, a very happy birthday to my girl and many happy returns. There are some surprises waiting for you on the kitchen-table.

EMILY: Oh, Mama, you shouldn't have! (THEN TO MR CRAVEN, IN ANGUISH) I can't - I can't do it!

MRS WEBB: But birthday or no birthday, I want you to eat your breakfast good and slow. I want you to grow up and be a good strong girl. (SHE MOVES AWAY) That in the blue paper is from your Aunt Carrie, and I reckon you can guess who brought the postcard album. It was on the doorstep when I brought in the milk. George Gibbs must've come over in the cold pretty early. Right nice of him.

EMILY: (TO HERSELF) Oh, George...I'd forgotten that.

MRS WEBB: Now eat your breakfast, dear.

EMILY: Oh, Mama, look at me just one minute as though you really saw me! (PAUSE) Mama, fourteen years have gone by - I'm dead! You're a grandmother! (PAUSE)
(MORE)

-52-

EMILY:

(CONT'D)

Mama! I married George Gibbs...Wally's dead, too...his appendix...we felt just terrible about it, Mama - don't you remember? Oh, but Mama, now, just for a moment, we're all together, Mama, just for a moment we're happy! Look at me!

MRS WEBB:

That in the yellow paper is something I found in the attic among your grandmother's things. You're old enough now to wear it, and I thought you'd like it.

EMILY:

And this is from you, Mama! Why, it's lovely, and it's just what I wanted! It's beautiful!

MRS WEBB:

Well, I thought you'd like it. Hunted all over. Your Aunt Norah couldn't find one in Concord, so I had to send all the way to Boston. (SHE LAUGHS) Wally has something for you, too. Made it in Manual Training Class and he's very proud of it. So you be sure you make a big fuss about it.

EMILY:

Oh, Mother, I did - I remember!

MRS WEBB:

(CONTINUING) And your father has a surprise for you, too; I don't know what it is myself. Shhh, here he comes.

MR WEBB:

(OFF) Where's my girl? Where's my birthday girl?

EMILY:

(ALMOST SCREAMS) I can't! I can't go on! Oh, it goes so fast! We don't have time to look at one another!

MR CRAVEN:

(GENTLY) That'll be all, Mrs. Webb.

EMILY:

I didn't realise! All that was going on, and we never noticed! Take me back - please take me back, up the hill....to my grave! ($SHE STARTS AWAY AND THEN COMES BACK)

(MORE)

-53-

EMILY:
(CONT'D)
Oh, but wait! Just one more look! Good-by, good-by,
world! Good-by, Grover's Corners! Mama and Papa...
Good-by to clocks ticking...and mother's sunflowers...
and food and coffee....and new-ironed dresses and hot
baths...and sleeping (GOING AWAY) and waking up! Oh,
earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realise you!
(SHE COMES BACK IN) Do any human being (ALMOST SOBBING)
ever realise life while they live it? Ever...every
minute?

MR CRAVEN: No. (A PAUSE) The saints and poets, maybe - they do some.

EMILY: I'm ready to go back. (A PAUSE, THEN HER VOICE IS HEARD IN THE SAME PERSPECTIVE AS THE OTHER DEAD) Mother Gibbs, I should have listened to you. Now I want to be quiet for a while. Oh, Mother Gibbs, I saw it all. I saw your garden.

MRS GIBBS: Did you, dear?

EMILY: That's all human beings are - just blind people.

MRS GIBBS: Look, it's clearing up. The stars are coming out.

EMILY: Oh, Mr Stimson, I should've listened to them.

SIMON STIMSON: Yes, now you know. Now you know. (BITTERLY) That's what it was to be alive. To move about in a cloud of ignorance; to go up and down trampling on the feelings of those - of those about you. To spend and waste time as if you had a million years! Now you know - that's the happy existence you wanted to go back and see! Did you shout to 'em? Did you call out to 'em?

EMILY: Yes. I did.

SIMON STIMSON: And now you know them as they are: in ignorance and blindness.

-54-

MRS GIBBS: (WITH SOME SPIRIT) Simon Stimson, that ain't the whole
truth, and you know it ain't.

SOUND: (THE WIND BEGINS TO COME UP VERY SOFTLY)

VOICES AMONG THE DEAD: Lemuel, wind's coming up again, seems like.
Funny, I keep remembering things tonight.
It's right cold for June, ain't it?
Always glad when night comes.
(FADING) She's a right pretty girl.
Be a nice day tomorrow again.
If it don't rain.

MRS GIBBS: (OVER "SHE'S A RIGHT, ETC") Look what you've
done, you and your rebellious spirit stirring
us up here. Emily, look at that star. I
forget its name.

VOICES AMONG THE DEAD: I'm getting to know them all, but I don't know
their names.
My boy Joel was a sailor - knew 'em all.
I used to set on the porch and name as many as
I could.
Joel knew 'em all.
(FADING) Yes, sir, they're pretty.
A star's mighty good company.
Yes, 'tis...Yes, 'tis...

SIMON STIMSON: Here's one of them coming.

A WOMAN'S VOICE: That's funny.

A MAN'S VOICE: 'Tain't no time for one of them to be here.

EMILY: Mother Gibbs, it's George!

MRS GIBBS: Shh, dear. You just rest yourself.

EMILY: It's George!

-55-

SOUND: (WE HEAR GEORGE'S MUDDY FOOTSTEPS AS HE APPROACHES BEHIND IT, SOFTLY;)

A MAN'S VOICE: And my boy Joel, who knew the stars...he used to say it took millions of years for that speck o' light to git to the earth. Don't seem like a body could believe it, but that's what he used to say - millions of years.

A WOMAN'S VOICE: That's what they say.

SOUND: (GEORGE'S FOOTSTEPS HALT)
GEORGE: (GRIEF-STRICKEN) Emily...Emily....

EMILY: (CALMLY) Poor George.

THE DEAD: Goodness, that ain't no way to act.
He ought to be home.

GEORGE: Emily....

EMILY: Mother Gibbs.

MRS GIBBS: Yes, Emily?

EMILY: They don't understand much, do they?

MRS GIBBS: No dear, not very much.

(MUSIC: VERY SOFTLY "BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS". AFTER A MOMENT, MR CRAVEN SPEAKS)

MR CRAVEN: Most everybody's asleep in Grover's Corners now. There are a few lights on: Shorty Hawkins, down at the depot, has just watched the Albany train go by. And at the livery stable somebody's sitting up late and talking. (HE TURNS AWAY A LITTLE) Yes, it's clearing up. There are the stars - doing their old, old criss-cross journey in the sky. (TURNING BACK) Scholars haven't settled the matter yet, but they seem to think there are no living beings up there. They're just chalk...or fire.

(MORE)

-56-

MR CRAVEN:
(CONT'D)

Only this one is straining away all the time to make
something of itself. Strain's so bad that every
sixteen hours everybody lies down and gets a rest.
(HE WINDS HIS WATCH)

Hmm...eleven o'clock in Grover's Corners. You get a
good rest, too. Good night.

(MUSIC: BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS UP TO FINISH)

MR HOPKINS:

Thank you, Frank Craven, and thank you (OTHER NAMES).
Ladies and gentlemen of our radio theatre, I hope you
have enjoyed our first presentation. Next week we shall
represent Tolstoi's "Redemption", and I hope you will all
be with us to hear ____________________ in it.
Good night.

ANNCR:

Good night, Mr. Hopkins.

This was the first production of "Arthur Hopkins
Presents" by the National Broadcasting Company. In
tonight's radio version of "Our Town" by Thornton
Wilder, (CAST CREDITS)

This is the National Broadcasting Company.

nc/mtf/es/ch 4/4 pm