Blues for Mister Charlie (9 page)
(Lyle raises the hammer. Richard grabs his arm, forcing it back. They struggle.)
JO
: Lyle! The baby!
LORENZO
: Richard!
(He comes into the store.)
JO
: Please get that boy out of here, get that boy out of here—he’s going to get himself killed.
(Richard knocks the hammer from Lyle’s hand, and knocks Lyle down. The hammer spins across the room. Lorenzo picks it up.)
LORENZO
: I don’t think your husband’s going to kill no more black men. Not today, Mrs. Britten. Come on, Richard. Let’s go.
(Lyle looks up at them.)
LYLE
: It took two of you. Remember that.
LORENZO
: I didn’t lay a hand on you, Mister Britten. You just ain’t no match for—a
boy.
Not without your gun you ain’t. Come on, Richard.
JO
: You’ll go to jail for this! You’ll go to jail! For years!
LORENZO
: We’ve been in jail for years. I’ll leave your hammer over at Papa D.’s joint—don’t look like you’re going to be doing no more work today.
RICHARD
(Laughs)
: Look at the mighty peckerwood! On his
ass
, baby—and his woman watching! Now, who you think is the better man? Ha-ha! The master race! You let me in that tired white chick’s drawers, she’ll know who’s the master! Ha-ha-ha!
(Exits. Richard’s laughter continues in the dark. Lyle and Parnell as before.)
LYLE
: Niggers was laughing at me for days. Everywhere I went.
PARNELL
: You never did call the Sheriff.
LYLE
: No.
(Parnell fills their glasses. We hear singing.)
PARNELL
: It’s almost time for his funeral.
LYLE
: And may every nigger like that nigger end like that nigger—face down in the weeds!
(A pause.)
PARNELL
: Was he lying face down?
LYLE
: Hell, yeah, he was face down. Said so in the papers.
PARNELL
: Is that what the papers said? I don’t remember.
LYLE
: Yeah, that’s what the papers said.
PARNELL
: I guess they had to turn him over—to make sure it was him.
LYLE
: I reckon.
(Laughs)
Yeah. I reckon.
PARNELL
: You and me are buddies, huh?
LYLE
:
Yeah
, we’re buddies—to the end!
PARNELL
: I always wondered why you wanted to be my buddy. A lot of poor guys hate rich guys. I always wondered why you weren’t like that.
LYLE
: I ain’t like that. Hell, Parnell, you’re smarter than me. I know it. I used to wonder what made you smarter than me. I got to be your buddy so I could find out. Because, hell, you didn’t seem so different in
other
ways—in spite of all your
ideas.
Two things we always had in common—liquor and poon-tang. We couldn’t get enough of neither one. Of course, your liquor might have been a little better. But I doubt if the other could have been any better!
PARNELL
: Did you find out what made me smarter?
LYLE
: Yeah. You richer!
PARNELL
: I’m richer! That’s all you got to tell me—about Richard Henry?
LYLE
: Ain’t nothing more to tell. Wait till after the trial. You won’t have to ask me no more questions then!
PARNELL
: I’ve got to get to the funeral.
LYLE
: Don’t run off. Don’t leave me here alone.
PARNELL
: You’re supposed to be home for supper.
LYLE
: Supper can wait. Have another drink with me—be my buddy. Don’t leave me here alone. Listen to them! Singing and praying! Singing and praying and laughing behind a man’s back!
(The singing continues in the dark
,
BLACKTOWN
:
The church, packed. Meridian in the pulpit, the bier just below him.)
MERIDIAN
: My heart is heavier tonight than it has ever been before. I raise my voice to you tonight out of a sorrow and a wonder I have never felt before. Not only I, my Lord, am in this case. Everyone under the sound of my voice, and many more souls than that, feel as I feel, and tremble as I tremble, and bleed as I bleed. It is not that the days are dark—we have known dark days. It is not only that the blood runs down
and no man helps us; it is not only that our children are destroyed before our eyes. It is not only that our lives, from day to day and every hour of each day, are menaced by the people among whom you have set us down. We have borne all these things, my Lord, and we have done what the prophets of old could not do, we have sung the Lord’s song in a strange land. In a strange land! What was the sin committed by our forefathers in the time that has vanished on the other side of the flood, which has had to be expiated by chains, by the lash, by hunger and thirst, by slaughter, by fire, by the rope, by the knife, and for so many generations, on these wild shores, in this strange land? Our offense must have been mighty, our crime immeasurable. But it is not the past which makes our hearts so heavy. It is the present. Lord, where is our hope? Who, or what, shall touch the hearts of this headlong and unthinking people and turn them back from destruction? When will they hear the words of John?
I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would that thou wert cold or hot. So, then because thou art lukewarm and neither cold nor hot, I will spew thee out of my mouth. Because thou sayest, I am rich and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked.
Now, when the children come, my Lord, and ask which road to follow, my tongue stammers and my heart fails. I will not abandon the land—this strange land, which is my home. But can I ask the children forever to sustain the cruelty inflicted on them by those who have been their masters, and who are now, in very truth, their kinfolk, their brothers and their sisters and their parents? What hope is there for a people who deny their deeds and disown their kinsmen and who do so in the name of purity and love, in the name of Jesus Christ? What a light, my Lord, is needed to conquer so mighty a darkness! This darkness rules in us,
and grows, in black and white alike. I have set my face against the darkness, I will not let it conquer me, even though it will, I know, one day, destroy this body. But, my Lord, what of the children? What shall I tell the children? I must be with you, Lord, like Jacob, and wrestle with you until the light appears—I will not let you go until you give me a sign! A sign that in the terrible Sahara of our time a fountain may spring, the fountain of a true morality, and bring us closer, oh, my Lord, to that peace on earth desired by so few throughout so many ages. Let not our suffering endure forever. Teach us to trust the great gift of life and learn to love one another and dare to walk the earth like men. Amen.
MOTHER HENRY
: Let’s file up, children, and say goodbye.
(Song
: “Great Getting-Up Morning.”
Meridian steps down from the pulpit Meridian, Lorenzo, Jimmy and Pete shoulder the bier. A dishevelled Parnell enters. The Congregation and the Pallbearers file past him. Juanita stops.)
JUANITA
: What’s the matter, Parnell? You look sick.
PARNELL
: I tried to come sooner. I couldn’t get away. Lyle wouldn’t let me go.
JUANITA
: Were you trying to beat a confession out of him? But you look as though he’s been trying to beat a confession out of you. Poor Parnell!
PARNELL
: Poor Lyle! He’ll never confess. Never. Poor devil!
JUANITA
: Poor devil! You weep for Lyle. You’re luckier than I am. I can’t weep in front of others. I can’t say goodbye in front of others. Others don’t know what it is you’re saying goodbye to.
PARNELL
: You loved him.
JUANITA
: Yes.
PARNELL
: I didn’t know.
JUANITA
: Ah, you’re so lucky, Parnell. I know you didn’t know. Tell me, where do you live, Parnell? How can you not know all of the things you do not know?
PARNELL
: Why are you hitting out at me? I never thought you cared that much about me. But—oh, Juanita! There are so many things I’ve never been able to say!
JUANITA
: There are so many things you’ve never been able to hear.
PARNELL
: And—you’ve tried to tell me some of those things?
JUANITA
: I used to watch you roaring through this town like a St. George thirsty for dragons. And I wanted to let you know you haven’t got to do all that; dragons aren’t hard to find, they’re everywhere. And nobody wants you to be St. George. We just want you to be Parnell. But, of course, that’s much harder.
PARNELL
: Are we friends, Juanita? Please say that we’re friends.
JUANITA
: Friends is not exactly what you mean, Parnell. Tell the truth.
PARNELL
: Yes. I’ve always wanted more than that, from you. But I was afraid you would misunderstand me. That you would feel that I was only trying to exploit you. In another way.
JUANITA
: You’ve been a grown man for a long time now, Parnell. You ought to trust yourself more than that.
PARNELL
: I’ve been a grown man far too long—ever to have dared to dream of offering myself to you.
JUANITA
: Your age was never the question, Parnell.
PARNELL
: Was there ever any question at all?
JUANITA
: Yes. Yes. Yes, once there was.
PARNELL
: And there isn’t—there can’t be—anymore?
JUANITA
: No. That train has gone. One day, I’ll recover. I’m sure that I’ll recover. And I’ll see the world again—the marvelous
world. And I’ll have learned from Richard—how to love. I must. I can’t let him die for nothing.
(Juke box music, loud. The lights change, spot on Parnell’s face. Juanita steps across the aisle. Richard appears. They dance. Parnell watches.)
Curtain
END OF ACT TWO
CT
III
T
WO MONTHS LATER
. The courtroom.
The courtroom is extremely high, domed, a blinding white emphasized by a dull, somehow ominous gold. The judge’s stand is center stage, and at a height. Sloping down from this place on either side, are the black and white
TOWNS
-
PEOPLE
: the
JURY
;
PHOTOGRAPHERS
and
JOURNALISTS
from all over the world; microphones and TV cameras. All windows open: one should be aware of masses of people outside and one should sometimes hear their voices—their roar—as well as singing from the church. The church is directly across the street from the courthouse, and the steeple and the cross are visible throughout the act.
Each witness, when called, is revealed behind scrim and passes through two or three tableaux before moving down the aisle to the witness stand. The witness stand is downstage, in the same place, and at the same angle as the pulpit in Acts I and II.
Before the curtain rises, song: “I Said I Wasn’t Going To Tell Nobody, But I Couldn’t Keep It To Myself.”
The
JUDGE
’
S
gavel breaks across the singing, and the curtain rises.
CLERK
(Calling)
: Mrs. Josephine Gladys Britten!
(Jo, serving coffee at a church social. She passes out coffee to invisible guests.)
JO
: Am I going to spend the rest of my life serving coffee to strangers in church basements? Am I?—Yes! Reverend Phelps was truly noble! As
usual!
—Reverend Phelps has been married for more than twenty years. Don’t let those thoughts into your citadel! You just remember that the mind is a citadel and you can keep out all troubling thoughts!—My! Mrs. Evans! you are certainly a sight for sore eyes! I don’t know how you manage to look so unruffled and
cool
and
young!
With all those
children.
And Mr. Evans. How are you tonight?—She has a baby just about every year. I don’t know how she stands it. Mr. Evans don’t look like that kind of man. You sure can’t tell a book by its cover. Lord! I wish I was in my own home and these were
my
guests and my husband was somewhere in the room. I’m getting old! Old! Old maid!
Maid!
—Oh! Mr. Arpino! You taken time out from your engineering to come visit here with us? It sure is a pleasure to have you!—My! He is big! and dark! Like a Greek! or a Spaniard! Some people say he might have a touch of nigger blood. I don’t believe that. He’s just—
foreign.
That’s all. He needs a hair cut. I wonder if he’s got hair like that all
over
his body? Remember that your mind is a citadel. A citadel. Oh, Lord, I’m tired of serving coffee in church basements! I want, I want—Why, good evening, Ellis! And Mr. Lyle Britten! We sure don’t see either of
you
very often! Why, Mr. Britten! You know you don’t mean that! You come over here just to see little old
me?
Why, you just go right ahead and drink that coffee, I do believe you need to be sobered up!
(The light changes.)
REVEREND PHELPS
(Voice)
: Do you, Josephine Gladys Miles, take this man, Lyle Britten, Jr., as your lawfully wedded husband,
to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?
JO
: I do. I
do!
Oh, Lyle. I’ll make you the best wife any man ever had. I
will.
Love me. Please love me. Look at me!
Look
at me! He
wanted
me. He wanted
me!
I am—Mrs. Josephine Gladys Britten!