9

Rocky: (shaking his other arm) Hey, you! ^ Cut out de noise! (Willie trembles and opens his eyes to stare around him with a bewildered horror)

Hope: (without moving, opens one eye to peer over his spectacles and speaks drowsily) Who's that yelling?

Rocky: (turning) It's Willie, Boss. De Brooklyn boys is after him.

Hope: (querulously) Well, why don't you get the poor fellow a drink and keep him quiet? Begone, can't I get a wink of sleep in my own backroom?

Rocky: (indignantly to Larry) Listen to that blind-eyed, deaf old bastard, will yuh! He gave me strict orders not to let Willie hang up no more drinks, no matter -

Hope: (mechanically puts a hand to his ear in the gesture of deafness) What's that? I can't hear you. (Then drowsily irascible) You're a cock-eyed liar! Never refused a drink to anyone who needed it bad in my life! Told you to use your judgement. Ought to know better! You're too busy of thinking & ways to cheat me. Oh, I ain't as blind as you think. I can still see a cash register, you know!

Rocky: (grinning affectionately now - flatteringly) Sure, Harry. Small chance of fooling you!

Hope: I'm wise to you and your sidekick, Chuck. ^ Burglars, not barkeeps! Blind-eyed, deaf old bastard, am I? Oh, I heard you! Heard you often when you didn't think. You and Chuck laughing behind my back, telling people you throw the money up, and whatever stuff to the ceiling was my share! A fine couple of crooks! You'd steal the pennies off your dead mother's eyes, you know!

Rocky: (grinning, with a wink at Larry) Aw, Harry, me and Chuck was only kidding'.

Hope: (more drowsily) I'll fire both of you. Begone, if you think you can play me for a sucker, you've come to the wrong house. No one ever played Harry Hope for a sucker!

Rocky: (grinning - to Larry, lowering his voice) No one but everybody.

Hope: (his eyes shut again - mutters) Least you could do, keep things quiet - (He frown up)

I3

Parritt: (forcing a smile) I get you. But hell, I'm just about broke. (He catches Rocky's and Joe's cynical contemptuous glances - quickly) Oh, I know you two guys saw - You think I've got a roll. Don't you? Well, you're all wrong. I'll show you. (He takes a small wad of one dollar bills from his pocket) It's all ones. All I got to live on it till I get a job. (Then as Rocky and Joe plainly show their incedulity - with defensive truculence) You think I fixed up a phoney roll, don't you? Why the hell would I? - What the hell do I care what you think? But ask Larry. He knows me. Where the hell would I ever get a real roll? You don't get rich doing what my mother and I were doing. You're lucky in the Movement if you have enough to eat. I'm up against it, I tell you, and you're all wrong. (Rocky and Joe regard him condescendingly for talking too much. Larry stares at him puzzledly)

Rocky: (curtly) What's all the song and dance about? We ain't said nothing.

Parritt: (lamely - placatingly now) Why, nothing, I guess. I just thought you - (eagerly) But I don't want you to think I'm a tightwad. I'll buy a drink if you guys want one.

Joe: (cheering up) If? Man, when I don't want a drink, you call up the Morgue, tell dem come take Joe's Mott's body away, because he's sure enuf dead. Gimme de bottle quick, Rocky, before he changes his mind! (Rocky passes him the bottle and glass. He pours a brimful drink and tosses it down his throat, and hands the bottle and glass to Larry.)

Rocky: I'll take a cigar when I go back in the bar. What 're havin'?

Parritt: Nothing. I'm on the wagon. What's the damage? (He holds out a dollar bill)

Rocky: Fifteen cents. (He makes the change from his pocket)

Parritt: Nickel whiskey, eh? It must be some booze!

Larry: (sardonically) It's dynamite cut with carbolic, to give it a mellow flavour. Here's luck! (He gulps his drink)

Rocky: Guess I'll get back in de Bar. (He squeezes thro' the tables and disappears, right rear, behind the curtain. In the rotation of bar at right, the men forward and sit down and slump back, closing his eyes and yawning.)

Joe: (stares at Parritt and then looks away - aloud to himself philosophically) No other chance. De Captain done blowed all de *Dat well-done gone dry*. One drink guyl. Darrell does run any.

19-21

Parritt: *(regarding the three with pitying contempt)*
Poor bastards. It must be a tough life.

Larry: *(sardonically)* It's not. Don't waste your pity.
They wouldn't thank you for it. They manage to get drunk, by hook or
crook, and keep their pipe dreams, and that's all they ask of life. I've
never known more contented men. It isn't often men attain the true goal
of their heart's desire. *(He grins diabolically)* The same applies to
Harry himself and his two cronies at the far table. I've never met a
happier man than Harry. He's so satisfied he's never set foot out of
this place since his wife died twenty years ago. He has no need of the
outside world at all. This place has a fine trade from the Market
people across the street and the waterfront workers, so in spite of Harry's
thirst and his generous heart, he comes out even. He never worries in
hard times because there's always old friends from the days when he was
a jitney. *Many* politician, and a friendly brewery to help tied him over.
Don't ask me what his two pals work at because they don't. Except at
being his lifetime guests. The one facing is his brother-in-law, Ed Mosh
er, who once worked for a Circus in the ticket wagon. *Pat McGloin*, the
other one, was a police lieutenant back in the flush times of graft when
everything went. But he got too greedy and when the usual reform inves-
tigators came he was caught red-handed and thrown off the force. *(He
nods at Joe)* Joe here has a yesterday in that same flush period. He
ran a colored gambling house then and was a hell of a sport, so they say.
Well, that's our whole family circle of inmates, except the two bartenders
and their girls, the three whores that room on the third floor.

Parritt: *(bitterly)* To hell with them! I never want to
see a tart again! *(Then As Larry flashes him a sharp glance, he adds
confusedly)* I mean, they always get you in Dutch. *(While he is speaking
Willie Oban has opened his eyes. He leans toward them, a dreamily, drunk-
on-look on his face, and speaks quietly with a mockingly-amused suavity)*

Willie: Why omi me from your Who's Who In Dypsomania, Larry?
An unpardonable slight, especially as I am the only inmate of royal blood.
*(To Parritt - a bit ramblingly)* Educated at Harvard, too. You must
have noticed the atmosphere of culture here. My humble contribution.
Yes, Generous Stranger, - I trust you're generous. I was born in the purple,
the son, but unfortunately not the heir, of the late world-famous Bill Oban,
King of the Bucket Shops. A revolution deposed him, conducted by the
District Attorney. He was sent into exile. In fact, not to mince matters
they locked him in the can and threw the key away. Alas, his was an adven
turous spirit that pined in confinement. And so he died. Forgive these
rambling reminiscences. Undoubtedly all this is well known to you.
Everyone in the world knows.

Parritt: *(uncomfortably)* Tough luck. No, I never heard of
him.

Willie: *(stares at him incredulously)* Never heard? I
thought everyone in the world - Why, even at Harvard, I discovered my
father was well known by reputation, although that was some time before
the District Attorney gave him so much unwelcome publicity. Yes, even as

freshman I discovered I was notorious. I was accepted socially with all the warm cordiality that Henry Wordsworth Longfellow would have shown a drunken negress dancing the can can naked at high noon on Brattle Street. Harvard was my father's idea. He was an ambitious man. Dictatorial, too, Always knowing what was best for me. But I did make myself a brilliant student. A dirty trick from my classmates, inspired by revenge, I fear. (He quotes) "Dear college days with pleasures, rife! The grandest gladest days of life!" But, of course, that is a Yale hymn, and they're given to rah rah exaggeration at New Haven. I was a brilliant student at Law School, too, My father wanted a lawyer in the family. He was a fer-sighted calculating man. A thorough knowledge of the law at hand, so you can find fresh ways to avoid it. But I discovered the loophole of whiskey and escaped his jurisdiction. (Abruptly to Parritt) Speaking of whiskey, Sir, reminds me, and I hope, reminds you - that when meeting a Prince the customary salutation is "What'll you have"

Parritt: (immediately reacting with defensive, uneasy sentiment) Nix! All you guys seem to think I'm made of dough. Where the hell would I get the coin to blow everyone?

Willie: (disappointed and sceptical) Broke? You haven't the God-forseen thirsty look of the impecunious. I'd judge you to be a plutocrat, your pockets swollen with ill-gotten gains. Two or three dollars, at least. And don't think we will question how you came by such wealth. As Vespasian remarked, the smell of all whiskey is sweet.

Parritt: (angrily defensive) What the hell d'you mean? (To Larry, forcing a laugh) Hell, it's a laugh calling me a plutocrat, isn't it, Larry, when I've been in the Movement all my life. (Larry gives him an searching uneasy suspicious glance, then Parritt hastily looks away, and Larry in turn, turns his head as if evading something he does not wish to see)

Willie: (disgustedly) One of the Contras, I believe. You now. They never have the price of a drink. Go into a dark corner and blow yourself up, that's a good lad. Hugo is the only licensed preacher of that gospel here. A dangerous terrorist, Hugo! He would as soon blow the collar off a schooner of beer as look at you. (To Larry) Let us forget this useless proletarian youth, Larry. Let us pray that our Saviour Hickey, the Great Salesman, will arrive soon bringing the blessed ed bourgeois long green! Would that Hickey or Death would come! Meanwhile, I will sing a song. (Larry grins at him. Willie is quite happily drunk now) A beautiful old New England folk ballad which I picked up at Harvard amid the debris of an education. (He sings in a boisterous baritone, rapping on the table with his knuckles at the indicated spots in the song:

"Jack, oh Jack, was a sailor lad
And he came to a tavern for gin
He rapped and he rapped with a (rap, rap, rap)
But never a soul was in." (The drunkards at the tables stirred and started to awake. sin Hope cocks one opened, irritable eye over his specs. Joe Mott opens both and grins. Willie stops singing to interpose some drunkenly whimsical exposition to Larry) The origin of this beautiful

Willie: *(Huskily grateful)* Thanks, Harry. You're a good scout. *(He closes his eyes and sinks back in his chair exhaustedly, twitching and quivering again)*

Hope: *(addressing McGloin and Mosher, who are sleepily awake - accusingly)* Always the way. Can't trust nobody. Leave it to that little Dago to keep order while I take forty winks and it's like bedlam in a whorehouse, singing and everything. And you two big barflies are a hell of a help to me, ain't you? Eat and sleep and get drunk! All you're good for, beg.eeses! Well, you can take that 'I'll-have -the- same' look off your maps! There ain't going to be no more drinks on the house till hell freezes over! *(Neither of the two are impressed either by his insults or his threat. They grin hangover grins of tolerant affection at him and wink at each other. Harry fumes)* Yeah, grin! Wink, beg.eeses! Fine pair of sons of bitches to have glued on me for life! *(But he can't get a rise out of them and he subsides into a fuming mumbling. Meanwhile, at the middle table, Captain Lewis and General Wetjoen are as wide awake as heavy hangovers will permit. Jimmy Tomorrow nods, his eyes blinking, starting to fall asleep again. Lewis is starting across the table at Joe Mott, who is still chuckling to himself over Willie's song. The expression on Lewis's face is of one who can't believe his eyes)*

Lewis: *(aloud to himself, with a muzzy, appalled wonder)* Good God! Have I been drinking at the same table with a bloody Kaffir?

Joe: *(turns to look at him - grinning)* Hello, Captain, you comin' up for air? Kaffir? Who's he?

Wetjoen: *(Blurily)* Kaffir, dot's a nigger, Joe. *(Joe stiffens and his eyes narrow. Wetjoen goes on with heavy jocosity.)* Dot's joke on him, Joe. He don't know who you is. He's still blind drunk, the bloody Limey gentleman! A great mistake I missed him at the battle of Medder River. Vit some rifle! I shoot the bloody Limey officers by the dozen, but him I miss. De pity of it! *(He chuckles with heavy jocosity and leans across and slaps Lewis on his bare shoulder.)* Hey, wake up, Cecil, you bloody fool! Don't you know our old friend, Joe? He's no damned Kaffir! He's white, Joe is.

Lewis: *(light dawning - generously, if drunkenly contrite)* My profound apologies, Joseph, old chum. Eyesight a trifle blurry, I'm afraid. Whitest colored man I ever knew. Proud to call you my friend. No hard feelings, what? *(He holds out his hand)*

Joe: *(at once chuckling good - naturedly, shakes his hand)* No, Captain, I know it's mistake. You're regular, if you is a Limey. *(Then his face hardening - breedingly)* But I don't stand for "nigger" from nobody. Never did. In de old days, people calls me nigger wakes up in de hospital. I was de leader ob de Deitz Half-Dozen gang. All six of us colored boys, we was tough and I was de toughest.

game and any limit you like, Joe", dey says. Man, de money I lost!
(He chuckles again - then again with an underlying assertive defensive-
ness) Look at de Big Chief in dem days. He knew I was white. I'd
saved my dough for once in my life, so I could start my own gambling house
Folks in de know tells me, best thing you see de man at de top, den you
never has trouble. You git Harry Hope give you a letter to de Chief.
And Harry does. Don't you, Harry?

Hope: (preoccupied with his own funny thoughts) Eh? Sure.
Big Bill was a good friend of mine. I had had plenty of friends
high up in those days. Still could have if I wanted to go out and see
them. (Then frowningly) Sure, I gave you a letter. I said you was
white. What the hell of it?

Joe: (to Captain Lewis who has relapsed into a muddled daze and is listening to him with an absurd strained attention not comprisest) Dere. You see, But I went to see de Chief, tremblin' in my boots, and dere he is sittin' behind a big desk, lookin' as big as a freight train. He don't look up. He keeps me waitin' and waitin', and after bout an hour, seems like to me, he says slow and quiet like dere was no harm in him, "You want to open a gamblin' joint, does you, Joe?" But he don't give me no time to answer. He jumps up from behind de desk looking as big as two freight trains, and he pounds his fist like a ham on de desk, and he shout, "You black son of a bitch, Harry says you're white and you better be white wid me or dere's a little iron room up de river waitin' for you!" Den he sits down and says quiet again, "All right. You can open. Git the hell outta here!" So I opens and he finds out I'se white, sure anuff, 'cause I run wide open for years and pays my sugar on de dot, and de cops and I is friends. (He chuckles with pride) Dem old days! Many's de night I come in here. Dis was a first class hang out for sports in dem days. Good whiskey, fifteen cents, two for twopits. I throws down a fifty dollar bill like it was trash paper and says: "Drink it up, boys, I don't want no change". Ain't dat right, Harry?

Hope: (frowning caustically) Yes, and beezees, if I ever
seen you through fifty cents on the bar now, I'd know I had delirium tre-
mens! You've told that story ten million times and if I have to hear
it again, that'll give me D.Ts, anyway!

Joe: (chuckling) Gittin' drunk every day for twenty years ain't give you de Brooklyn boys. You needn't be scared of me!

Lewis: (suddenly turns and beams on Hope) Thank you, Harry, old chum. I will have a drink, now you mention it, seeing it's so near your birthday. (The others laugh)

Hope: (puts his hand to his ear - angrily) What? that? I can't hear you.

Lewis: No, I fancied you wouldn't.

hoping I'd blow you to more drinks!

McGloin: Ed and I did our damnedest to get you up, didn't we, Ed?

Mosher: We did. But you said, Henry, you couldn't bear the flat because it was one of those nights when memory brought poor old Bessie back to you.

Hope: (his face instantly becoming long and sad and sentimental - mournfully) Yes, that's right, Boys. I remember now. I could almost see her in every room just as she used to be - and it's twenty years since she - (Her throat and eyes fill up. A sentimental hush falls on the room.)

Larry: (in a sardonic whisper to Parritt) Isn't the pipe dream of yesterday a touching thing! By all accounts, Bessie nagged the hell out of him.

Jimmy: (who has been dreaming bleefully, a look of prim, pleasant resolution on his face, suddenly speaks aloud to himself) No more of this sitting around and loafing. Time I took hold of myself. before I get too lazy. I must have my shoes soled and heeled and shined first thing tomorrow morning. A general spruce-up. I want to have a well-groomed appearance when I - (His voice fades out as he stares before him in pleasant anticipation. No one pays any attention to him except Larry and Parritt)

Larry: (as before, in a sardonic aside to Parritt) The tomorrow movement is a sad and beautiful thing, too!

McGloin: (with a huge sentimental sigh - and a calculating look at Hope) Poor old Bessie! You don't find her like in these days. A sweeter woman never drew breath.

Mosher: (in similar mood) Good old Bess. A man couldn't want a better sister than she was to me.

Hope: (mournfully) Twenty years, and I've never set foot out of this house since the day I buried her. Didn't have the heart. Once she'd gone, I didn't give a damn for anything. I lost all my ambition. Without her, nothing seemed worth the trouble. You remember, Ed - you, too, - the boys was going to nominate me for Alderman. It was all fixed. Bessie wanted it and she was so proud. But when she was taken I told them, "No, boys, I can't do it. I simply haven't the heart, I'm through". I would have won the election easy, too. (He says this a bit defiantly - defensively) Oh, I know there was jealous wise guys said the boys was giving me the nomination because they knew they couldn't win that year in the ward, but that's a damned lie! I knew every man woman and child in the ward, almost. Bessie made me make friends with

everyone, helped me remember all their names. I'd have been elected
easy.

McGloin: You would, Harry. It was a sure thing.

Mosher: A dead cinch, Harry. Everyone knows that.

Hope: (reassured) Sure they do. But after Bessie died, I didn't have the heart. Still, I know while she'd appreciate my grief, she wouldn't want it to keep me couped up in here all my life. So I've made up my mind I'll go out soon. Take a walk around the ward, see all the friends I used to know, get together with the boys again and maybe tell 'em I'll let them deal me a hand in their game again. Yes, because I'll do it. My birthday that'd be the right time to turn over a new leaf. Sixty. That ain't too old.

McGloin: (distracted) It's the prime of life, Harry.

Mosher: (distracted) Wonderful thing about you, Harry, you keep young as you ever were.

Jimmy: (dreaming aloud again) Get my things from the laundry. They must still have them. Clean collar and shirt. If I was to wash the ones I've got on anymore, they'll fall apart. Socks, too. I want to make a good appearance. I met Dick Trumbull on the street a year or so ago. He said, "Jimmy, the publicity department never has the same since you got - resigned. It's dead as hell". I said, "Oh, I know. I've heard rumours that the management wasn't at their wit's end and would be only too glad to have me run it for them again. I think all I'd have to do would be to go and see them and they'd offer me the position. Don't you think so, Dick"? He said, "Sure, they would, Jimmy. Only take my advice and wait awhile, business conditions are better. Then you can strike them for a bigger salary than you got before, do you see"? I said, "Yes, I do see, Dick, and many thanks for the tip". Well, conditions must be better by this time. All I have to do is get fixed up with a decent front to-morrow, and it's as good as done.

Hope: (glances at Jimmy with condescending affectionate pity - in a hushed voice) Poor Jimmy's off on his pipe dream again. Because, he takes the cake! (This is too much for Larry. He cannot restrain a sardonic guffaw.) (Now in one page, my attention is drawn to him)

Captain Lewis: (opens his eyes which are drowsing again - dreamily to Wetjoen) I'm sorry we had to postpone it again this April, Piet. I hoped the blasted old estate would be settled up by then. Well, the damned lawyers can't hold up the settlement much longer. We'll make it next year, even if we have to work and earn our passage money, eh? You'll stay with me at the old place as long as you like, then you can take the Union Castle from Southampton to Cape Town. (Sentimentally with real yearning) England in April. I want you to see that, Piet. The old veldt has its points, I'll admit, but it isn't home-especially home in

McGloin: *(grinning)* It's not like your generous nature to be so hard-hearted, Harry. Sure, it's hot, parching work laughing at your jokes so early in the morning on an empty stomach!

Hope: *(disgustedly)* Yah! You, Mac! Another crook! *(Accusingly)* Who asked you to laugh? We was talking about poor old Bessie, and you, her no-good brother start to laugh! A hell of a thing! Talking mush about her, too! "Good old Bess". Beegeses, she'd never, never forgive me if she knew I had you two bums living in her flat, throwing ashes and cigar buts on her carpet. You know her opinion of you, Mac. "That Pat McGloin is the biggest drunken grafter that ever disgraced the police force", she used to say to me. "I hope they send him to Sing Sing for life."

McGloin: *(unperturbed - sentimentally)* Ah, She didn't mean it. She was angry at me because you used to get me drunk. But Bess had a heart of gold underneath her sharpness. And She knew I was innocent of all the charges. And my jealous enemies were framing me.

Willie: *(suddenly jumps to his feet drunkenly and points a finger at McGloin - with the manner of a cross examiner - coldly)* One moment, please. Lieutenant McGloin, Are you aware you are under oath? Do you realize the penalty for perjury is twenty years in prison? *(Purringly)* Come now, Lieutenant, isn't it a fact that you're as guilty as hell? No, don't say "how about my old man"? I am asking these questions. The fact that he was a crooked old bucket-shop bastard has no bearing on your case. *(With a change to maudlin joviality)* Gentlemen of the Jury, court will now recess while the D.A. sings you a little ditty he learned at Harvard. It was composed in a wanton moment by the Dean of the Divinity School on a moonlight night in July. I'll, while sobering up in a Turkish bath. *(He sings)* "Oh, come up, come up, my sailor lad, and you'll and I'll agree. And I'll show you the prettiest (rap, rap, rap, rap, on table) that ever you did see" *(Suddenly he catches Hope's eyes fixed on him condemnation, and sees Rocky appearing from the Bar. He collapses back on his chair, pleading miserably)* Please, Harry! I'll be quiet! Don't make Rocky bounce me upstairs! I'll go crazy alone! *(To McGloin)* I apologize, Mac. Don't get sore. I was only kidding you. *(Rocky, at a relenting glance from Hope, returns to Bar)*

McGloin: *(good naturedly)* Sure, kid all you like, Willie. I'm hardened to it. *(He pauses - seriously)* But I'm telling you some day before long I'm going to make them reopen my case. Everyone knows there was no real evidence against me, and I took the fall for the ones higher up. I'll be found innocent this time and reinstated. *(Wistfully)* I'd like to have my old job on the Force back. The boys tell me there's fine pickings these days, and I'm not getting rich here, sitting with a parched throat waiting for Harry Hope to buy a drink. *(He glances reproachfully at Harry Hope)*

Willie: *(soothingly)* Of course, you'll be reinstated, Mac. All you need is a brilliant young attorney to handle your case. I'll be straightened out and on the wagon in a day or two. I've never practiced but I was one of the most brilliant students in Law School, and your case is just the opportunity I want to start. *(Darkly)* Don't worry

about my not forcing the D.A. to reopen your case. I went through my father's papers before the cops destroyed them, and I remember a lot about a lot of people, even if I can't prove - (Coaxingly) You will let me take your case, won't you, Mac?

McGloin: (soothingly) Sure I will and it'll make your reputation, Willie. (Mosher winks at Hope, shaking his head, with a grin and Hope answers with identical pantomime, as though to say "Poor/dopes! They're off again".)

Larry: (aloud to himself more than to Parritt - with irritable wonder) Ah, be damned! Haven't I heard their visions a thousand times? Why should they get under my skin now? I've got the blues, I guess. I wish to hell Hickey would turn up.

Mosher: (calculatingly solicitous - confidentially whispering to Hope) Poor Willie needs a drink bad, Harry - and I think if we all joined him it might make him feel he was among friends and cheer him up.

Hope: (turns on him frowningly) More circus con tricks! (Scathingly) You talking of your dear sister! Bessie had you sized up. She used to tell me: "I don't know what you can see in that worthless, drunken, petty-larceny brother of mine." "If I had my way", she'd say, "he'd get booted out in the gutter on his fat behind". Sometimes she didn't say behind, either.

Mosher: (grins genially) Yes, dear old Bess had a quick temper, but there was no real harm in her. (He chuckles reminiscently) Remember the time she sent me down to the bar to change a ten dollar bill for her?

Hope: (suddenly grins himself) Bejeses, do I! She could bit a piece out of a stove lid, after she found it out. (He chuckles appreciatively)

Mosher: I was sure surprised when she gave me the ten spot. Bess usually had better sense, but she was in a hurry to go to church. (He grins with a remorseless humour) I didn't really mean to do it, but you know how habit gets you. Besides, I still worked then, and the circus season was going to begin soon, and I needed a little practice to keep my hand in, or what the hell, you never can tell, the first rube that came to my wagon for a ticket might have left with the right change and I'd be disgraced. (He chuckles) I said, "I'm sorry, Bess, but I had to take it all in dimes. Here, hold out your hands and I'll count it out for you, so you won't kick afterwards I short-changed you". (He begins a count which grows more rapid as he goes on) Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, a dollar. The first dollar on the level to impose confidence. Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, - you're counting with me, Bess, aren't you? - eighty, ninety, two dollars. Ten, twenty, - those are pretty shoes you got on, Bess - forty, fifty, seventy, eighty, ninety, three dollars. Ten, twenty, thirty, - What's on at the church to-night, Bess? - fifty, sixty, seventy, ninety, four dollars.

he always lies about his wife and the iceman? Beesees, he'd make a cat laugh! And the next minute he'd be showing her photo 'round and crying about how good she was! (Rocky appears from the Bar. He comes front, behind Mosher's chair, and begins pushing back the black curtain along the rod to the rear wall)

Rocky: Six o'clock, Boss. (With the curtain back, a section of the barroom proper is revealed, with a door to the hall at rear. At right of this door is the end of the Bar. Front, at right of Hope's table, is another table with four chairs. Rocky presses a button at rear which switches off the lights. The room becomes drabber and dingier than ever in the daylight that comes from the street windows of the Bar, off right, and what light can penetrate the grime of the two backyard windows at left. Rocky turns back to Hope - grumpily) Why don't you go up to bed, Boss. Hickey'd never turn up his time of de morning!)

Hope: (starts alertly and listens) Someone's coming now.

Rocky: (listens) Aw, dat's only my two pigs. It's about time dey showed. (He goes back toward the door at left of the bar)

Hope: (sourly disappointed) You keep them dumb broads quiet. I don't want to go to bed. I'm going to catch a couple more winks here, and I don't want no damn fool laughing and screaming. (He settles himself in his chair, grumbling, closing) Never thought I'd see the day when Harry Hope's would have whose rooming in it. What would Bessie think? But I don't let 'em use my rooms for business. And they're good kids. Good as anyone else. They got to make a living. Pay their rent, too, which is more than I can say for -(He suddenly cocks an eye over his specs at Mosher and grins with satisfaction) Beesees, Ed, I'll bet Bessie is doing somersaults in her grave! (He chuckles. But Mosher's eyes are closed, his head nodding, and he doesn't reply, so Hope closes his eyes. Rocky has opened the door at rear and is standing in the hall beyond it, facing right. A girl's laugh is heard.)

Rocky: (warningly) Nix! Piano! (He comes back in, beckoning them to follow. He goes behind the bar and grabs a whiskey and glasses and a bottle. Margie and Pearl follow him into the room, casting a glance around. Everyone except Larry and Parritt is asleep or dozing, or appears so. Even Parritt has his eyes closed. The two girls neither much over twenty, are typical dollar prostitutes, dressed in the usual tawdry get-up. Pearl is obviously Italian with black hair and eyes. Margie has brown hair and hazel eyes, a slum New Yorker of mixed blood. Both are plump and have a certain attractive prettiness that shows even through their crude blobby make-up. Each retains a vestige of youthful freshness, although the game is beginning to get them and give them a hard, worn expression. Both are sentimental, feather-brained, giggly, lazy, and good-natured and reasonably contented with life. Their attitude toward Rocky is that of two maternally possessive, affectionate sisters toward a bullying younger brother whom they like to tease and spoil. His attitude toward them is that of the owner of two performing pets he has trained to do a profitable act under his management. He feels a proud proprietor's affection for them, and is tolerantly lax

3941

Cora: (with a business like air) I picked twelve bucks
of a him. Come on, Rocky. Set 'em up. (Rocky goes back to the Bar.
Cora suddenly looks around the room.) Say, Chuck's kidding about de ice-
man a minute ago reminds me. Where de hell's Hickey?

Rocky: Dat's what we're all wonderin', where de hell?

Cora: But He'd oughta be here. Me and Chuck seen him.

Rocky: (excited, comes back from the bar, forgetting the
drinks) You seen Hickey? (He nudges Hope) Hey, Boss, come to!
Good news for yuh. Cora's seen Hickey. (Hope is instantly wide awake
and eager, and nearly everyone in the place, except Hugo, begins to rouse
up hopefully, as if a mysterious wireless message had gone round)

Hope: Where'd you see him, Cora?

Cora: Right at de next corner. He was standin' dere, like
he was waitin' and thinkin' ol' somethin'. We said, "welcome to our city.
De gang is expectin' ya, wid dee tongues hangin' hangin' out a yard
long". And I kidded him, "Well, How's de iceman, Hickey? How's he doin'
at your House"? And he laughs and says, "Fine. He's moved in for keeps".
And he kids us and says, "Still kiddin' yourself along wid dat old marr
lage pipe dream, I see"! And he laughs and says, "Tell de gang I'll be
along in a minute. Tell 'em I'm just finishin' figurin' out de best
way to save dem and bring dem peace".

Hope: (chuckles) Save us? (Then laughs) Begeezes,
he's thought up some new gag! It's a wonder he didn'tborry a Salvation
Army uniform and show up in that! Go on out and get him, Rocky. Tell
him we're waitin' to be saved! (Rocky goes out, grinning)

Cora:: (frowning) Yeah, Harry, he was only kiddin'. Sure.
But he was funny, too, somehow. I mean He was different, or somethin'.
I started to get sore when he kidded us about pipe dreams. I mean, like
he wasn't Hickey. I never get sore at Hickey.

Chuck: (grinning) Sure, he was different, Baby. He was
stone/cold sober, Nat's what made him funny. We ain't never seen him
when he wasn't on a drunk, or had the jimjams gettin' over it.

Cora: (relieved) Sure! Of course! Gee, ain't I dumb?

Hope: (with conviction) The dumbest broad I ever saw!
(Then puzzled himself) Sober? That's funny. He's always flapped
up a good starter on his way here, before. (Then grinning) Well, begeezes, he won't be sober long! He'll be good and ripe for the start of my
birthday party to-morrow night! (He chuckles with excited anticipation
- addressing all of them) Listen! He's thought up some new gag to pull

I3

those whores more than anything. (They shrink as if he'd slapped them in the face, but before they have a chance to be angry, he goes on, beaming at them affectionately.) I said to myself, by God, I don't care how much it costs, they're worth it. They're the best little scouts in the world, and they've been damned kind to me when I was down and out! I want to do everything I can to make them contented! (Earnestly) I mean, every word of that, too... and then some! (Then as if he noticed the expression on their faces for the first time) But What's the matter? You look sore at me. What -? (Then he chuckles) Oh, I see. But you know how I feel about that. You know I didn't say it to offend you. So don't be silly now.

Margie: (lets out a tense breath) Aw right, Hickey. Let it slide. (An expression of hardened callousness comes over her face) What's the difference, anyway. Who de hell cares?

Pearl: (the same) Yeah. Who de hell cares?

Hickey: (jubilantly) That's the spirit, Sisters! You've got it! Chuck and Rocky enter, carrying a big wicker basket. Hickey beams excitedly) Look! There she comes, girls! Unveil it, Boys. (They pull off a covering burlap bag. The basket is piled high with quarts of champagne)

Pearl: (dances with childish excitement) It's champagne! Jees, Hickey, if you ain't a sport! (She gives him a hug, forgetting all animosity, as do the other girls, who exclaiming delightedly)

Margie: I never been soused on champagne. Let's get stinko, Poil!

Pearl: You betcha my life! De bot' of us! (A holiday spirit of gay festivity has seized them all. Even Joe Mott is standing up to look at the wine with an admiring grin, and Hugo raises his head to blink at it)

Joe: You sure is hittin' de high spots, Hickey! (Boastfully) Man, when I runs my gamblin' house, I drinks de old bubbly water in steins! (He stops guilty and gives Hickey a look of cullen defiance) I'se goin' to drink it (again) dat way, too, soon's I make my stake-on myself, not on no white man! An' dat ain't no pipe dream, neither! (He sits down where he was, his back turned to them)

Rocky: What'll we drink it out, Hickey? Dere ain't no wine glasses.

Hickey: (enthusiastically) Joe has the right idea! Schooners! That's the spirit for Harry's birthday! (Rocky and Chuck carry the wine into the bar. The three girls go back and stand around the entrance to the bar, chatting excitedly to themselves and to Chuck

26

led and confused, as if they had been rudely awakened from a dream.

Both have been drinking heavily. In Hope the effect is apparent only
in a burstingly touchy, pugnacious attitude. It is entirely different
in quality from the usual irritable beefing that he delights in and
which no one knows seriously. Now he really has a chip on his shoulder,
as if he saw an insulting taunt in everyone's eyes. Jimmy, on the other
hand, is plainly drunk, but it has not had the desired effect, for beneath
a pathetic assumption of smiling gentlemanly weedy poise, he is obviously
shrinking back within himself, humiliated and haunted by a frightening
dread. Hickey reaches out and grabs Hope's hand and pumps it up and
down, with a salesman's heartiness. For a moment Hope appears uncon-
scious of this handshake. Then he jerks his hand away angrily.

Hope: *(insultingly)* Cut out the glad hand, Hickey. D'you
think I'm a sucker to fell for that fake? I know you, beg.eeses, you
sneaking, lying drummer! *(With rising anger to the others)* And all you
damned bums! What the hell you trying to do, yelling and raising the
roof? Want the cops to close the joint and get my license taken away?
(He yells at Cora who has stopped singing but continues to play mechan-
ically with many mistakes) Hey you, you dumb tart, quit banging that
box! Beg.eeses, the least you could do is learn the tune!

Cora: *(stops - deeply hurt)* Aw, Harry! Jees, ain't I -
*(She chokes back a sob)*
Her eyes begin to fill

Hope: *(glances at the other girls)* And you two hookers,
screaming at the top of your lungs! What d'you think this is, a dollar
cat house? Beg.eeses, that's where you belong!

Pearl: *(miserably)* Aw, Harry - *(She begins to sob)*

Margie: *(with wounded reproach)* Jees, Harry, I never thought
you'd say that - like you meant it. *(She puts her arm around Pearl -
on the verge of tears herself)* Aw, don't bawl, Poil. He don't mean it.
*(Hope looks suddenly miserably guilty)*

Hickey: *(affectionately reproachful)* Now, now, Harry! You
mustn't take it out on the gang here because you're upset about yourself.
Anyway, I've promised you you'll come through all right, haven't I?
*(Jovially)* So quit worrying. Old Hickey's never stuck you with any
wooden nickles, has he? *(He slaps Hope on the back with affectionate
encouragement. Hope flashes him a glance of hate. Be yourself, Gover-
nor. You don't want to bawl out the old gang just when they're congrat-
ulating you on your sixtieth birthday, do you? Hell, that's no way!)*

Harry: *(loving quietly and shrewdly now -)*
*(after another glance of hate - forcing an unconvin-
cing attempt at his natural tone)* Beg.eeses, they ain't as drunk as you.
They know I was only kidding you. They know I appreciate their congratula-
tions. *(He addresses the men at the table appealingly)* Don't you, fell-
ers? *(There is a listless, forced chorus of "Sure Harry", "Yes", "Of
course, wedo", etc. He comes forward to the two girls, with Jimmy and*
*Hickey following him, and pats them clumsily on the back and stammers)*

IO

say, "No, I'm black, and my dough is black man's dough, and you're proud to drink wid me or you don't get no drink"! Or maybe I just says, "you can all go to hell. I don't lower myself drinkin' wid no white trash!" (He opens the door to go out - then turns again, angrily assertive) And dat ain't no pipe-dream! I'll git de money for my stake today, somehow, somewhere! If I has to borrow a gun and stick some white man up, and gets it! You wait and see! (He turns and swaggers out through the swinging doors.) Rocky and Chuck have listened to him, so speechless with astonishment that anger has found no outlet. Larry bursts into a sardonic laugh)

Chuck: (angrily) Can yuh beat de noive of dat deity dinge! Jeez, if I wasn't all dressed up, I'd go out and mop up de street wid him!

Rocky: (contemptuously) Aw, let him go, de poor old dope! Him and his gamblin' house! De niggers are hep to him. Dey wouldn't let him in no crap game, 'less he showed his dough first, and he ain't had a dollar since de Brooklyn Bridge was built. All dey'll give him is de trouble he's lookin' for. He'll be back to-night askin' Harry for his room and bummin' me for a ball. (Vengefully) Den I'll be de one to smash de glass! I'll loin him his place! Jeez, if he ever got a twenty dollar bill, he'd be givin' Rockfeller a tip! (Him and his twenty dollar bill) (The swinging doors are pushed open and Willie Oban enters from the street. He is shaved and wears an expensive, well-cut suit, good shoes, freshly-shaved, and clean linen. He is absolutely sober, but his face is sick and haggard, and his nerves in a shocking state of shakes)

Chuck: (surveying him) Another guy all dolled up! Get your clothes from Solly's, huh, Willie? (Derisively) Now yuh can sell me back to him again to-morrow.

Willie: (stiffly) No, I - I'm through with that stuff. Never again. (He comes to the bar)

Rocky: (sympathetically) Yuh look sick, Willie. Take a ball to pick yuh up. (He pushes a bottle toward him)

Willie: (eyes the bottle yearningly but shakes his head - determinedly) No, thanks. The only way to stop is to stop. I'd have no chance if I went to the D.A.'s office smelling of booze.

Chuck: Yuh're really goin' huh? duh?

Willie: (stiffly) I said I was, didn't I? I just came back here to rest a few minutes, not because I needed any booze. I'll show that cheap drummer I don't have to have any Dutch courage - (Then guiltily) But I shouldn't talk that way about Hickey. He's been very kind and generous staking me. He can't help his insulting insinuating manner, I suppose. (He turns away from the bar) My legs are a bit shaky yet. I better sit down a while. (He goes back and sits at the

15

Parritt: (starts - then scowling defensively) What about?

Willie: (his manner becoming his idea of a crafty, insinuating criminal lawyer's) About the trouble you're in. (Parritt looks alarmed but Willie anticipates his denial) Oh, I know. You don't admit it. You're quite right. That's my advice. Deny everything. Keep your mouth shut. Make no statements whatever without first consulting your attorney.

Parritt: (aggressively) Say! What the hell -?

Willie: (ignoring this) But you can trust me. I'm a lawyer, and it's just occured to me you and I ought to cooperate. Of course I'm going to see the D.A. this morning about a job on his staff. But that may take time. There may not be an immediate opening. Meanwhile, it would be a good idea for me to take a case or two, on my own, and prove my brilliant record in law school was no flash in the pan. So why not reatin me as your attorney?

Parritt: You're crazy! What do I want with a lawyer?

Willie: (dismisses this) That's right. Don't admit anything. But I told you you can trust me, so let's not beat about the bush. You got in trouble out on the Coast, eh? And now you're hiding out here. Any fool can spot that. (Lowering his voice still more) You feel safe here, and maybe you are, for a while. But remember, they always get you in the end. I know from my father's experience. No one could have felt safer than he did. When anyone mentioned the law to him, he nearly died laughing. But -

Parritt: You crazy mutt! (Turning toward Larry with a forced laugh) Did you get that, Larry? This damned fool thinks the cops are after me!

Larry: (starts and bursts out with his true reaction before he thinks to ignore him) I wish to Christ they were! And so should you, if you had the honor or shame of a louse! (Parritt stares into his eyes for a second with dread. Then he smiles sneeringly) And you the guy who>kidded himself he was through with the Movement! You old lying fake>r, you still> love it! (Larry pretends not to hear him)

Parritt

Willie: (disappointed) - to Parritt) Then you're not in trouble, Parritt? I was hoping - But never mind. No offence meant. Forget it.

Parritt: (condescendingly - his eyes on Larry) Sure. That's all right, Willie. I'm not sore at you. It's that damned old fake>r that gets my goat. (He slips out of his chair and goes quietly over to slip into the chair beside Larry he had occupied before - in a low confidential tone) I think I understand, Larry. It's really Mother

17

self. (As Rocky shoves the bottle toward him eagerly, he shakes his head.) But I remember the only breath-killer in this dump is coffee beans. The boss would never fall for that. No man can run a circus successfully who believes guys chew coffee beans because they like them. (He pushes the bottle away) No, much as I need one after the hell of a night I've had - (He scowls resentfully.) That drummer son of a drummer I had to lock him out. But I could hear him doing his spell to some one all night long. Still at it with Jimmy and Harry when I left just now. Sounded as if he was getting them started downstairs. But the hardest to take was that damned flannel-mouth, flat-foot Mick trying to tell me where I got off! I had to lock him out, too. (As he is saying the last, McGloin appears from the doorway from the hall. The change in his appearance and manner resembles that of Mosher and the others.)

*In identified with*

McGloin: *(angrily)* He's a liar, Rocky! It was me locked him out! (Mosher starts to flare up - then ignores him. They turn their backs on each other. McGloin starts into the backroom section)

Willie: *(eagerly)* Come and sit here, Mac. You're just the man I want to see. If I'm to take your case, we ought to have a talk before we leave.

McGloin: *(angrily contemptuous)* We'll have no talk. You damned fool, do you think I'd have your father's son for my lawyer? They'd take one look at you and bounce us both out on our necks! (Willie winces and shrinks down in his chair. McGloin goes to the first table beyond him and sits down with his back to the bar) - sullenly assertive) I don't need a lawyer anyway. To hell with the law! All I've got to do is to see the right ones and to get them to pass the word. They will, too. They know I was framed. And once they've passed the word, it's as good as done, law or no law.

Mosher: *(angrily)* Christ, I'm glad I'm leaving this mad-house! (He pulls his key from his pocket and slaps it on the Bar) Here's my key, Rocky.

McGloin: *(pulls his from his pocket)* And here's mine. (He tosses it to Rocky) I'd rather sleep in the gutter than pass another night under the same roof with that mad loon, Hickey, and a lying circus gaffer! (He adds darkly) And if that hat fits anyone here, let him put it on! (Mosher turns toward him furiously but Rocky leans over the bar and grabs his arm)

Rocky: *(angrily)* Nix, take it easy! (Mosher subsides. Rocky tosses the keys on the shelf - disgustedly) Jezz, you boids gimme a pain. It'd serve yuh right if I wouldn't give de keys back to yuh tonight. (They both turn on him, but there is an interruption as Cora appears in the doorway from the hall with Chuck behind her. She is drunk and hectic, dressed in her gaudy best, even her face plastered with rouge and mascara, her hair a bit dishevelled, her hat on anyhow.)

I8

Cora: (comes a few steps inside the door - with a forced bright giggle) Hello, everybody! Here we go! Hickey just told me, ain't it time we beat it, if we're really goin'. So we're showin' de bastard, ain't we, Honey? He's comin' right down wid Harry and Jimmy. Jees, dem two look like dey was goin' to de electric chair! (With frighten ed anger) Jees, if I had to listen to any more of dat Hickey's crap, I'd brain him. (She puts her hand on Chuck's arm) Come on, Honey. Let's get started before he comes, awn.

Chuck: (sullenly) Sure, anyt'ing yuh say, Baby.

Cora: (turns on him truculently) Yeah? Well, I say, we stop at de foist regular dump and you gotta blow me to a sherry flip, see? - or four or five, if I want 'em! - or all bets is off!

Chuck: Aw, yuh got a bun on now!

Cora: Cheap skate! I know what's eatin' you, tightwad! Well, use my dough, den, if yuh're so stingy. You'll grab it all, anyway, right after de ceremony. I know yuh! (She hikes her skirt up and reaches inside the top of her stocking) Here yuh are, yuh big tramp!

Chuck: (knockes her hand away - angrily) Keep your lousy dough! And don't be showin' off your legs to dese bums when you're goin' to be married, if yuh don't want a sock in de puss!

Cora: (nervous) Aw right, Honey. I lookin' round with a foolish laugh. Say, why don't all you Barflies come to de weddin'? (But they are all sunk in their own apprehensions and ignore her. She hesitates, miserably uncertain) Well, we're goin', guys. (There is no comment. Her eyes fasten on Rockey - desperately) Say, Rocky, yuh gone deaf? I said me and Chuck was goin' now.

Rocky: (wiping the bar - with elaborate indifference) Well, goodbye. Give my love to Joisey.

Cora: (almost tearfully indignant) Ain't yuh goin' to wish us happiness, yuh don't little Ginny?

Rocky: (caliously) Sure. Here's hopin' yuh don't moider each adder before next week.

Chuck: (angrily) Aw, Baby, what d'we care for dat pimp? (Rocky turns on him threateningly, but Chuck has heard a noise from the upstairs in the hall and grabs Cora's arm - in a tone almost of panic) Here's Hickey comin' now! Let's get the hell outa here! (They hurry out into the hall. Hickey's voice is heard calling down a parting encouragement to them from the second floor hallway. This is followed

The music don't have slapping behind them.)

5

Rocky: (getting up) I'm comin', too. I'm through workin'.
I ain't no lousy bartender. (Chuck comes through the curtain into the
barroom and looks for Cora as Joe flops down in the chair next to Capt.
Lewis.)

Joe: (taps Lewis on the shoulder, apologetically) If you
objects to my sittin' here, Captain, just tell me and I pulls my freight.

Lewis: (with dull bitterness) No apology required, old
chap. Anybody could tell you I ought to feel honored that a bloody
Kaffir would sit beside me. (Joe stares at him with dull, sodden per-
plexity - then closes his eyes. Chuck comes forward to take the chair
behind Cora's, as Rocky enters the backroom and starts over toward Lar-
ry's table)

Chuck: (this nice hard, apologetic tone) I'm waitin', Baby.

Dig!

Cora: (with a dead obedience) Sure. I been expectin' yuh.
I got it all ready. Here. (She passes a small roll of bills she has
in her hand over her shoulder, without looking at him. He takes it,
glances at it suspiciously, then shoves it in his pocket without a word
of acknowledgement. Cora speaks, more aloud to herself than to him, with
a dull, wonder at herself rather than a resentment toward him.)

Cora: Jees, imagine me kiddin' myself I wanted to marry a
drunken pimp.

Chuck: (calmly) Dat's nuttin', Baby. Imagine de sap
I'd'a been, when I can get your dough just as easy widout it!

Rocky: (taking the chair on Parritt's left, facing Larry -
mechanically) Hello, Old Cemetery. (Larry doesn't seem to hear.
Rocky gives Parritt a glance of contemptuous indifference) Hello, Tight-
wad. You still around?

Parritt: (keeping his eyes fixed on Larry in a tense jeer-
ingly-provocative tone) Ask Larry! if I'm still around. He knows I'm
here all right, although he's pretending not to notice! He'd like to for-
get I'm alive! He'd like to forget he believed in the Movement most
of his life! He'd like to forget Mother's in jail and might as well be
dead! He's trying to play dead again himself. He thinks he can still
be a kid himself with that old grandstand philosopher in his dream! After the
way Hickey and I have shown him up for a yellow old fakir. But he
knows he can't get away with it now! He kept himself locked in his room
until just a little while ago, all alone with a bottle of booze, but he
couldn't make it work! He couldn't even get drunk! He had to come
out! There must have been something there he was even more scared to
face than he is to face Hickey and me! I guess he got looking at the
fire escape and thinking how handy it was, if he was really sick of life

30

Beautiful Doll"; Chuck's, "The Curse of an Aching Heart"; Cora's, "The Oceana Roll"; while Hugo jumps to his feet and pounding on the table with his fist bellows in his guttural basso the French Revolutionary "Carmagnole". A crazy cacaphony of sound results from this mixture and they soon stop singing to roar with delighted laughter. All but Hugo who keeps on with drunken fervor)

Hugo: Dansons la Carmagnole!
Vive le son! Vive le son!
Dansons la Carmagnole!
Vive le son des canons!

(They all turn on him and howl him down with amused derision. He stops singing and denounces them in his most firey style) Capitalist svine! Stupid bourgeois monkeys! (He declaims) "The days grow hot, O Babylon!" (They all take it up and shout in enthusiastic jeering chorus) "!Tis cool beneath thy willow trees!" (They pound their glasses on the table, roaring with laughter, and Hugo giggles feelishly with them. In his chair by the window, Larry stares before him, oblivious to their racket, his face beginning to set in an expression of in-different-expectancy.)

## CURTAIN

Tao House

December 1939