ACROSS THE BOARD ON TOMORROW MORNING by William Saroyan THE PEOPLE JIM, a bartender THOMAS PIPER, a waiter JOHN CALLAGHAN, a proprietor of Callaghan’s HARRY MALLORY, a young man HELEN, a hat-check girl PEGGY, a young woman R.J. PINKERTON, an elderly man from Wall Street LOIS, a young woman PABLO, a Filipino dish-washer PANCHO, a Filipino dish-washer SAMMY, a Union man CLAY, a Negro doorman RHINELANDER 2-8182, a mother FRITZ, a taxi-driver CALLAGHAN MALLORY, a recent arrival THE PLACE Callaghan’s on East 52nd Street, New York THE TIME Continuous, for the duration A portion of Callaghan’s Restaurant-bar in New York. THOMAS PIPER, a waiter, is seated at a table reading a newspaper. He turns a page, notices the audience, goes on reading, remembers the audience, studies the audience, folds the paper, gets up, and moves forward. PIPER Ladies and gentlemen, before you is an illusion of a restaurant-bar in New York City: the bar, the bartender, a few tables and chairs, entrances, exits, Men’s Room, Ladies’ Room, kitchen, a cook and two Filipino boys in the kitchen, a hat-check girl out there near the door, a doorman on the sidewalk, a couple of cabs in the street, New York all around, the world everywhere else. Before I noticed you, I was seated there at the table, as you saw, reading the paper. I looked up a horse I bet on last night and discovered that it ran fifth. A horse named Tomorrow Morning, which of course is beside the point. I lost two dollars. It’s no matter. I read about a man who died, too. He was pretty well along in years. Seventy-one years old. He was a scientist of some kind. Left a large family. Never heard of him before. (JOHN CALLAGHAN, the proprietor of the restaurant-bar, emerges from the Men’s Room) You feel sorry for people who don’t stay alive to see what’s going to happen. How things are going to turn out. A lot of things are going on in the world. They’re all in the new style, too. Swifter. CALLAGHAN What do you think you’re doing? PIPER My boss, John Callaghan. He owns this place. Excuse me. (To CALLAGHAN) There was nothing to do. No business. I happened to notice the people. I was chatting with them. CALLAGHAN What people? PIPER The people. Out there. CALLAGHAN (Noticing the audience) Now, go on, get about your work. (Noticing the audience again, unable to believe his eyes) What happened? PIPER I don’t know, but there they ar. I didn’t want to be rude. Under the circumstances they don’t talk, you see, so naturally we’ve got to. I was telling them I noticed where a man died. I was saying I feel sorry for people who don’t stay alive so they can find out what happens. (CALLAGHAN is nervous and embarrassed. He whispers in PIPER’S ear) No, no. Just act natural. You’ve seen people before, and they’ve seen you. Now don’t be shy. Just go about your business as if nobody were looking. I’ll talk to the folks until we get a customer. How do we know somebody interesting isn’t going to come in here and order the dollar dinner? Do you want to say a few words? Introduce yourself or something like that? (CALLAGHAN whispers) Oh, sure. I think that would be very nice. CALLAGHAN (With great effort, embarrassment and confusion) Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Callaghan’s! (Pause, confusion) PIPER Go ahead, don’t be afraid. CALLAGHAN Ladies and gentlemen! PIPER That’s it. Loud and clear, and political. Give it flowers. CALLAGHAN (Softly) Welcome to Callaghan’s. PIPER They’re here. They’ve got nowhere to go, or they wouldn’t be here. (CALLAGHAN whispers again) Now you’re talking. (To the audience) Since Mr. Callaghan can’t talk, he wants to dance. (CALLAGHAN goes) While he’s getting his derby, I’ll say a few words about him. Ladies and gentlemen, the proprietor of this establishment, by name John Callaghan, is sixty-two years old. Not so very long ago Mr. Callaghan operated a speakeasy. He is the father of two sons, one a lawyer and the other a doctor, both married, both fathers; and two daughters, both married, and both mothers. (CALLAGHAN returns wearing a derby and carrying a stick) Mr. Callaghan is now going to dance. CALLAGHAN(Whispering) O.K., Tom? PIPER I’ll count three, and then break right into it. Ready? One. Two. Three. (CALLAGHAN lifts one leg and stops) All right. Again. One. Two. Three. CALLAGHAN I can’t move . PIPER Take it easy, boss. You want to dance? All right. I’ll dance first. (He starts to dance) You see? Nothing to it. (He stops ) Are you ready now? O.K. One. Two. Three. (CALLAGHAN can’t dance. PIPER refuses to help him any more. CALLAGHAN in desperation begins to sing “The Harp That Once Through Tara’s Halls.” He does a very heroic job. PIPER applauds) CALLAGHAN I thank you. (He bows. PIPER applauds some more; he bows; more applause; he bows; PIPER stops applauding) PIPER O.K., boss. Now, let me get on with my lecture. (HARRY MALLORY, a swift-moving young man of twenty-seven or so, comes in, followed by HELEN, the hat-check girl) HELEN Your hat and coat, sir. HARRY I’ll put them on a chair. Here’s a dime. No, wait, that was a quarter. That’s all right. Keep it. HELEN Thank you, sir. (She goes) HARRY (To PIPER) Get me a glass of water, will you please? PIPER Yes, sir. HARRY What’s on the dinner? O.K., medium rare. (To CALLAGHAN, who has been watching, with his mouth open) Have you looked at this afternoon’s paper yet? (He sits down, gets up) The whole place is on fire. Get me something to drink. A pleasant wine of some kind. To hell with it. Get me a Scotch. Have you read the paper? (He sits down. PIPER returns with a glass of water which HARRY takes and gulps desperately, spilling quite a lot, which he wipes off with his hand. PIPER opens a bill of fare and offers it to HARRY) I’ve ordered. ( PIPER The New York cut, sir? HARRY That’s fine. You got the time? Ten-thirty, is that right? PIPER Ten thirty-five . HARRY Thanks. Never carry a watch. Don’t need to. Bores me. Always know what time it is anyway. Got more time than I can use. Who am I to know the time right down to the last minute? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to finish this paper. Workers are the luckiest people in the world. Got their time regulated for them. Safest way to live. The only way. I’d be a waiter myself if I could do it. You belong to the union, I suppose. Make a fair living. Nice atmosphere. (Suddenly shouting) Where the hell is that drink? PIPER Right here on the table, sir. HARRY Who put that there? (He drinks the whole thing down) What kind of Scotch was that? O.K., let me have another. PIPER Yes, sir. Anything else, sir? HARRY Yes. Thanks for reminding me. (Gives PIPER a nickel) Get me Rhinelander 2-81282. (Suddenly notices the audience) Who are those people? PIPER New Yorkers, for the most part. A few out-of-towners. HARRY Rhinelander 2-8182. What are they doing out there? PIPER Watching us. HARRY People stink. I avoid them. O.K., get that number. Any music in this place? PIPER Only the nickel phonograph. HARRY Well, don’t let anybody put a nickel in it. (CALLAGHAN leads a beautiful young woman into the dining-room. PEGGY. HARRY stands) Cancel that call. (The young woman sits down) Ask the young lady what she’ll have. PEGGY Nothing, thank you. (PIPER goes) HARRY Have you looked at this afternoon’s paper yet? PEGGY Yes, I have. HARRY (To PIPER) Is that girl a shill? Does she work here? PIPER I beg your pardon, sir? HARRY I never saw anybody take up with a stranger so swiftly. It’s O.K. As a matter of fact, I’m fond of people who are professional in all things. PIPER (Bringing another drink) Yes, sir. HARRY I’m an amateur myself, always have been, always will be. Don’t know the first thing about anything. Don’t want to learn. (Sips) Despise everybody. (To PEGGY) Do you live in New York? (PIPER takes away one glass, puts down another) Rhinelander 2-8182. PIPER Shall I ask for someone in particular? HARRY Just say Harry Mallory’s calling and ask her to hold the line. PIPER Harry Mallory. Yes, sir. (PIPER goes. HARRY returns to the paper. A dignified gentleman of sixty or so, accompanied by a beautiful young woman, comes in. R.J. PINKERTON. LOIS) HARRY Good evening. LOIS Is he talking to you? PINKERTON I don’t believe so. LOIS We mustn’t be seen. You promised we wouldn’t. PINKERTON Nobody comes here, and the foods’ very good. HARRY How are things down on Wall Street? PINKERTON (Irritated) I beg your pardon, have you been speaking to me? HARRY ) Unless it’s to the girl. I don’t know her. PINKERTON (Angry) Are you under the impression that you know me? HARRY (Slowly) There’s a war in the world. You’ll be dead in ten years. Site down and go on with whatever it is you’re going on with. (To PIPER, returning) Did you get that number? PIPER There’s no answer, sir. LOIS (To CALLAGHAN) What kind of a place is this, anyway? (She suddenly notices the audience and gasps) Hurry. Let’s get out of here. HARRY Sit down and eat your supper. PINKERTON (Noticing the audience, to CALLAGHAN) I had no idea. CALLAGHAN I’m sorry, sir. It’s not usually this way. PINKERTON (To LOIS) Do you want to go? LOIS What’s the use going now? HARRY Have you looked at this afternoon’s paper yet? PINKERTON (To CALLAGHAN) I would rather not shout across the dining-room. CALLAGHAN (To HARRY) Excuse me, sir. We’ve all been young and troubled. HARRY Who’s young and troubled? CALLAGHAN The gentleman would rather not shout with you. HARRY Who? CALLAGHAN The elderly gentleman with the young woman. HARRY Oh. Well, that’s all right. Young and troubled? I suppose you think I’m a little crazy, too. CALLAGHAN No. I don’t believe I do. HARRY Well, as a matter of fact I am, but so are you. And so is he, too. Some people have sensibility and some haven’t. Some have a little and some have a lot. I have a lot. If it were money I’d be a millionaire. (To PINKERTON) How are things down on Wall Street? PINKERTON (With anger and great aloofness) What things? LOIS Don’t answer him. He’s drunk. HARRY Drunk? I’ll drink everybody in this place under the table and still be more sober than a man about to be electrocuted for a crime he didn’t commit. (To CALLAGHAN) What do you want to run a restaurant for? People are no good. What do you want to feed them for? PIPER Your steak, sir . HARRY Is it medium rare? PIPER Yes, sir. HARRY O.K. Try that number again. I’d be a waiter myself if I could do it. (Going to PEGGY) Don’t you see they keep doing things over and over again without thinking, and without ever doing anything right. Naturally they never catch up with what’s right. What are you doing, eating alone? (Shouting suddenly) Somebody put a nickel in that phonograph, will you? PEGGY I wanted to be alone for a change. HARRY (The music begins. PEGGY stands; he holds her as if to dance) I hope you don’t mind. I’d like to be unalone for a change. I have not yet met an honest man. I’ve found men honest for a moment, but only for a moment. I myself have been dishonest, and am still. How is anything good eve going to come about if a man who wants to be honest, can’t? I don’t mean small honesty, the kind that goes in ledgers, the honesty of poor intimidated workers who ought to be dishonest. I mean broad generous reckless deep honesty. There’s no one to talk to, and it gets very lonely. PEGGY I think I know what you mean. HARRY (Pause, slowly) Thanks for the dance. (They have not danced. He seats her) How is that you are able not to talk? PEGGY There’s so little to say. HARRY (Amazed, slowly) Oh. (He just misses his chair and sits on the floor. CALLAGHAN comes running over to help him) Where’s my coffee? (He remains on the floor, looking at the paper. PIPER arrives) Did you get the number? PIPER Yes, sir. HARRY Tell her to get in a cab and come right down. PIPER Yes, sir. (He turns to the audience) What’d I tell you? (The stage lights go down. THOMAS PIPER, the waiter, comes out from the wings, and stands in a spot of light) PIPER You will forgive me, I hope, for coming out here for a moment before we go back into the restaurant. As I began to say before the good customer arrived, you feel sorry for people who don’t stay alive, since they can never again find out what happens. But a lot of people who stay alive never find out what happens. They never find out what happens even to themselves. Some of them have good educations, too. Already some of you may be asking yourselves, for instance, what’s this stuff mean? Well, all I can say is, I’m glad you came tonight instead of last night because what happened last night wouldn’t make anybody ask, What’s this stuff mean? A few people came and ate and paid their checks and went. Before you arrived tonight, it was the same here as last night. Around five o’clock a few people came for drinks. A young fellow I know who writes for The New Yorker flirted with a young woman who turned out to be from his home town, Pasadena, California, and they went to the theater together. Around six a few people came for dinner. By half-past nine the place was empty. I would have tried to entertain you tonight myself, but I’m glad the people came, especially the young fellow. Once we get back into the restaurant, chances are I won’t have time to do anything except wait table. That’s why I’ve come out here now. Even though I’m a waiter by profession, I find casual talk easy and effortless for me, although I can sing and dance a little, too. Consequently, in the absence of someone more suited to the work—which is a pleasure—I shall try to keep direct contact with you. Callaghan’s isn’t exactly Jack & Charlie’s or The Stork Club, so naturally when unusual people come here I feel grateful and a little happier about my humble position in the American social world. Most of you have been to Jack & Charlie’s or The Stork Club anyway, and I dare say a good many of you have sat at tables near the people you read about every day in Walter Winchell’s column, or the column in The Post by Leonard Lyons, or in the news sections when they get married or divorced. I myself, I suppose, have waited on everybody who goes to Jack & Charlie’s at one time or another, and on the whole they’re no different from anybody else. On the other hand, some of the people who come here sometimes are, in my opinion, characters out of fiction. There was a man came in here one night, absolutely unknown, never gossiped about in newspapers, personal life unrevealed, about a hundred and thirty pounds in weight, a little bald, at four thick steaks one after another and wanted to box Callaghan and me put together. Wasn’t drunk, had no hard feelings, only wanted to box Sang three songs, paid his check, and we never saw him again. He might have been the vice-president of a bank somewhere. Mild, courteous, worried-looking. What I mean is, a restaurant may very often be the scene of great anonymous events. Especially a restaurant in New York, the biggest city in the world. A place where people eat and drink is more likely to witness the emergence of the flamboyant from ordinary human beings than a place where people do not eat and drink. But not necessarily the flamboyant alone. Such a place might witness the arrival in human lives of nobility of one sort or another, or a delicate synchronization of wisdom and mischief, or even a delightful balance of irrelevant truth and irrelevant error. It may seem odd to you that a waiter can throw about such language as the language I have been throwing about, and to others of you it may seem, in our time, perfectly natural. There are no doubt waiters at Jack & Charlie’s who, owing to the people they serve, are capable of wit far surpassing anything I shall ever be likely to amaze myself with. Henry, for instance, whom many of you know. I have heard that some of the finest minds of this country have asked questions concerning food or drink. I mean questions of some esthetic significance. And well they might, from what I hear of the intelligence operating in Henry. As for myself, away from the more heightened atmospheres of gracious living, such as Jack & Charlie’s, I believe I can explain my occasional use of the expressive work and phrase by revealing that, for many years, I have read The New York Times. As well as magazines and books published in this country, in the English language, which are available to all. Life Magazine, Time, Newsweek, The New Republic, The Nation, The New Masses occasionally, The Racing Form every day, and a wide variety of contemporary writers, including, at random, George Santayana, John Dewey, and, I say this with no embarrassment, William Shakespeare. I listen to the radio: symphonies, and other programs, especially broadcasts from Europe. With all that is happening in the world, including what I myself witness here at Callaghan’s, I am sure you understand a little better why I feel unhappy about the people who die every day, who shall not continue to witness the further unfolding of whatever drama this is that is taking place. You may understand a little better what goes on here tonight, which is, at best, I might say, not altogether unrelated to what goes on everywhere else every day. I’m delighted you’ve come, and hope you will forgive me for having taken advantage of this opportunity to say these things. HARRY’S VOICE (Shouting) Where the hell’s my waiter? PIPER I must go now, but I’ll be seeing you again as soon as possible. (The stage lights go up) PIPER Yes, sir. HARRY Here. Read this pamphlet sometime. It was given to me by an elderly lady in Central Park. PIPER Thank you, sir. I shall read it at the very first opportunity. HARRY I’ve been carrying that pamphlet around for over three years. I remember the old lady very clearly: she was angelic and unbalanced. About sixty-seven years old. Smiling, brittle and efficient. I watched her hand out eleven of the pamphlets. No one refused. No one dared. (Pause) Have you had your supper? All right, sit down and I will bring you your supper. No. Please. I insist. You must not deprive me of the privilege. PIPER Thank you, sir, but I can’t. HARRY Why not? PIPER It’s against the rules. HARRY (Angry) Rules? (Pause, standing) Le me tell you, there are no rules. None whatsoever. Honor, none. Grace, none. Truth, none. Therefore, rules, none. Where in this configuration of error and crime which is called contemporary history, may we find one rule in operation? (Pause) Nowhere. (Taking off his coat) Let no foolish rule, therefore, operate here, in this sudden accidental moment of religion. Let no bluff of map or chart, measure or theory, impurify my compulsion to exchange places with you. My coat. Kindly give me yours. (He hands PIPER his coat. PIPER gives HARRY his coat. CALLAGHAN comes over. To CALLAGHAN) He is to dine and I am to wait upon him. CALLAGHAN Please. PIPER Yes, sir, please. HARRY I insist. This is, thank God, still America. I am still a free man. Sit down. (PIPER sits down, wearing HARRY’S coat. HARRY hands him a bill of fare) Your pleasure, sir? (HELEN comes in) CALLAGHAN Don’t order, Tom. It’s a violation of union rules. We’ll be picketed in ten minutes. You now who the hat-check girl is going around with. HARRY (Defiantly) Who? CALLAGHAN Sammy, that’s who. The biggest organizer in the Waiters’ Union. HARRY You have swords? CALLAGHAN No, sir. HARRY Pistols? CALLAGHAN No, sir. HARRY Banana knives? CALLAGHAN No, sir. HARRY Then he and I shall duel with salad forks. (To PIPER) I repeat: Your pleasure, sir. PIPER (To CALLAGHAN) Maybe Helen won’t notice. HELEN Won’t notice? I shall telephone Sammy immediately. CALLAGHAN Helen, please don’t. He’s not really waiting table. The man’s a Democrat, don’t you see? Why bother Sammy? This man’s not a professional waiter. HELEN He’s wearing a waiter’s jacket, and he’s waiting table. HARRY (Proudly) I am. (To PIPER) Your pleasure, sir. PIPER All right. To hell with it. I’ll start with a chilled Dubonnet cocktail. HARRY Dubonnet cocktail. PIPER Blue point oysters on the half shell. HARRY They’re very good, sir. PIPER (Shouting) Where’s my drink? (To PEGGY) I beg your pardon. PEGGY Oh, that’s all right. PIPER Onion soup, a la carte. HARRY Onion soup, a la carte. Your drink, sir. PIPER (Sipping) I suppose, at work like this, one cannot help meeting occasionally, interesting, or at least fairly interesting, people. HARRY Yes, sir. PIPER (To PINKERTON) Hath made battleships? PINKERTON (To CALLAGHAN) That’s your waiter, isn’t it? CALLAGHAN It is, and by God I wash my hands of the whole thing. PIPER (To LOIS) Art negotiating? LOIS Art nothing, and mind your own business. HELEN Sammy’s coming right down. He’s bringing six picketers with him, too. CALLAGHAN To hell with Sammy and to hell with the picketers, too. (He sings “The Harp” etc. again, while HARRY waits on PIPER. After the song HARRY applauds) HARRY (To PIPER) The two Filipinos in the kitchen are shooting craps. PIPER Instruct the little brown brothers to cease. If they invite you to enter the contest, refuse. If possible, confiscate the dice. HARRY Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Did you enjoy the cocktail? PIPER Never ask questions. Do you want to be a waiter, or nuisance? HARRY A waiter, sir. Thank you. I meant no offense. PIPER And never apologize. To anybody. Nothing is more offensive to those who enjoy an advantage than to be apologized to by those who enjoy a disadvantage. Having become humble, do you wish to become superior, too? Or are you already weary of the exchange? HARRY Weary? Oh, no, sir. PIPER Very well, then. Get me another drink. HARRY Yes, sir. (He goes. PIPER opens the little pamphlet and studies it) PIPER (To PEGGY) Can you guess what the message here might be? PEGGY Only vaguely. HARRY I can’t, even vaguely. Therefore, I shall turn the page and read. (To PINKERTON) Hear this. (To LOIS) You, too. LOIS He’s a waiter. How dare he talk to me? PINKERTON (Angry and loud) Mr. Callaghan! (PABLO, one of the Filipino boys, appears, holding a head of lettuce and a knife) CALLAGHAN (Humbly) Mr. Pinkerton. PINKERTON Your waiter must be asked to stop this foolishness, this mockery— (He stands eloquently) This fantastic disregard of moral order. PABLO (Going to PINKERTON) Shut up. PINKERTON I beg your pardon? PABLO Sit down. What do you know about the Philippine Islands? PINKERTON Not very much, I’m afraid. PABLO (Standing over PINKERTON) Have you studied the situation, imports and exports, sanitation, public schools, free clinics, agriculture, mining and manufacture of the Philippine Islands? PINKERTON No, I haven’t. PABLO Have you had the honor of an audience with the President of the Philippine Islands? PINKERTON No, I haven’t. PABLO Do you know the problems of the people of the Philippine Islands? PINKERTON Not insofar as they differ from the problems of people everywhere else. PABLO Is the situation of the Filipino boy in America something you have put on the scale of justice? PINKERTON I’m afraid not. PABLO Do you know the cultural, racial, and religious background of the Filipino people? PINKERTON Yes. That is a field I have investigated. PABLO Shut up. You know nothing. You do not know anything. CALLAGHAN Pablo, what’s all this talk? PABLO Mr. Callaghan, in spite of the fact that my position is a lowly one, I have no protest to make. I am satisfied with the salary. I prefer the hours, which leave me time during the day for tennis. My countryman Pancho is also my friend, and it is a pleasure to work with him. It is also a pleasure to help you maintain the excellent service for which Callaghan’s is famous. However, the situation of the Filipino boy in America is such that, in the presence of speech-making which misrepresents the truth, the Filipino boy who has been educated in the American schools of Manila is not so stupid as to allow such misrepresentation to go unchallenged. (PANCHO appears) CALLAGHAN All right, but put away that knife, at least. PABLO The knife is for the lettuce. I am making a salad for Pancho and myself. (To PINKERTON) Have you had the honor of an audience with the President of the Philippine Islands? PANCHO (In Filipino) Pablo, what are you doing out here in the dining-room? Get the hell back into the kitchen where you belong. PABLO (In Filipino) This man has been making false remarks about the Philippine Islands. (To PINKERTON) Excuse me just a moment. (In Filipino, to PANCHO) He is an ignorant man, but very rich. PANCHO (In Filipino) Who’s the woman with him? PABLO Some chicken he picked up somewhere. PANCHO Not bad, is she? PABLO She’s sitting down. What would she be standing up? PANCHO Very nice, I believe. PABLO You are probably mistaken. PANCHO No, I believe she’s got quite a carriage. PABLO In my opinion, I believe it is not possible to know unless she stands. PANCHO (In English, to LOIS) Excuse me. Would you be good enough to stand? (LOIS looks around, terrified, but stands. In Filipino) You see? PABLO No, I don’t. (To LOIS, in English) Would you please step away from the table? (LOIS does so) Thank you. (In Filipino, his eyes brightening) You are right, for once in your life. How would you like to engage that in a little nighttime contest? PANCHO I would like that very much. PABLO (Very dramatically, to PINKERTON) The situation of the Filipino boy in America. (To PANCHO, in Filipino, with anger) I’ll take care of this. (To PINKERTON) In Manila the boys go to American schools. They learn to speak correct English. They read good books. They see American moving pictures. They come to America. LOIS May I sit down? PANCHO They apply for a position in a bank. PABLO Just a moment, Pancho. (To LOIS) Please sit down. It is not your fault. Our quarrel is not with you. (To PINKERTON) In Manila there are Clubs, progressive and patriotic. PANCHO They apply for a position in the capitol of the United States: Washington, D.C. PABLO Just a moment, Pancho. PANCHO They apply for a position in the moving-pictures. PABLO (In Filipino) Don’t lose the thread of the thought. (In English) In Manila the Filipino boys take pride in their kinship with the American people. PANCHO In Honolulu, the girls dance the hula-hula. (He demonstrates) PABLO Never mind Honolulu, hula-hula. The boys come to America. They are American citizens. PANCHO The work is hard, the wages are low. In Honolulu they dance the hula-hula. PIPER Sit down, Pancho. I hear you and Pablo have been shooting craps. PANCHO (Sitting down) Pablo is not a good gambler. PABLO One minute please. PIPER Quiet, everybody. PABLO (To PIPER) Have you studied the situation in the Philippine Islands? PIPER All right, Pablo. Sit down. (PABLO sits down) PABLO (To PINKERTON) In the future, before you talk, investigate your subject. Go ahead, Tom. PIPER Listen. All of you. (Reading) Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. John 3:3. PABLO (To PINKERTON) In Manila the Filipino boys— PIPER Wait a minute, Pablo. (Reading) There is not a just man upon earth. Ecclesiastes 7:20. (PABLO goes to PINKERTON’S table) PABLO (To LOIS) May I have the honor? (He bows very low) PINKERTON I beg your pardon? PABLO (Lifting his head, but not the rest of his body) I spoke to the young lady, not to you. (To LOIS) May I have the honor? I am waiting. LOIS Thank you so much. I’m really too tired. Really. (PABLO comes up briskly) PABLO (Bowing to PINKERTON) May I have the honor? (PINKERTON leaps to his feet, outraged) PANCHO (To PEGGY) In Honolulu, hula-hula. (HARRY looks around. He takes off PIPER’S coat) HARRY My coat, please. PIPER Yes, sir. HARRY (Getting into his coat, while PIPER gets into his) One thing is obvious. The insanity of the world, or the art of the world, the grace thereof, or the foolishness thereof, must touch all who live therein, and all live therein. HELEN (Coming in) Here comes Sammy. (SAMMY comes in briskly, a small, energetic fellow) SAMMY Stop in the name of Local 1! HARRY Take it easy. This is not local. Have a drink. (To JIM, the bartender) Give him a drink. JIM Yes, sir. HARRY(Looking around) The world, we know, is amok. The realm of all reality, therefore, is now also amok. The world has always been uninhabitable, but every man alive has been himself a place of refuge from the world—from its murder, its spiritual pestilence, its adultery, its false-witness, its contempt, its treachery, its perjury, its whoring, its mean streets, its rotting cities, its diseased governments: all the things which engage in contest with the free spirit of a man. The world has always been unworthy of that free spirit, but now also the body of each man in the world has lost its base, its location, its position, its security, its relation to God and grace, its source, its power, its youth and form, its blood and ensemble, its beginning and continuity: the things which combine miraculously to make of it a refuge. And now, therefore, like the world, the body of every man in uninhabitable. Life is on fire; caught in hurricanes; submerged in deep and blind waters; bitten by insects; eaten by microbes; broken by shell-fire; driven made by machines; pushed down by heavy things on wheels; spit upon by the radio; and confounded by all the other absurd things that happen every day. (He pauses, looking around) Unless next you want to murder one another, for whatever humor there may be in it, each of you go back to his place and person, and another drink for me. (He watches everybody straighten out. He sits down and picks up the paper again) This may be the last day of reality. We had better try to be human while there is time. (Excited voices from the street. HARRY puts the newspaper aside, and looks toward the entrance) PEGGY What is it? LOIS I wish I knew what’s going on. PINKERTON Something new has happened in Europe, that’s all. (CLAY, the enormous Negro doorman, in uniform, comes running in) PEGGY, LOIS, PINKERTON and CALLAGHAN What’s the matter? HARRY Who’s being murdered? CLAY On the contrary. A cab just came up with a lady. She’s having a baby. It’s too late to take her to a hospital. (Excitement and talk: A baby? Here? This is a restaurant. Bring her in. Don’t bring her in. Who is she? What are we going to do?) Anybody around here know anything about having a baby? (He turns and runs) HARRY This is no year in which to be born, and no world to be born into. (Voices from the street. PABLO and PANCHO come out of the kitchen) PABLO What’s the matter with everybody? LOIS Somebody’s having a baby. PABLO A baby? (To LOIS) Go in the kitchen and get some hot water. (LOIS goes, followed by PABLO) PANCHO(To PEGGY) You, too. (PEGGY goes, followed by PANCHO) (CLAY returns with the young woman on his arm. Supporting her also is a small taxi-driver named FRITZ) FRITZ A Scotch and soda, please! (Everybody stands around nervously, confused and helpless) (To the young woman) Hold on, lady. Hold on. (HARRY gets up and is walking to the young woman as the stage lights go down) (Again THOMAS PIPER, the waiter, comes forward and stands in a spot of light) PIPER The time required for the making of one human life is, for all I know, probably closer to nine thousand years than to nine months. In view of the incredible amount of time and effort involved, and the astonishing ineffectuality of that which comes into being, the transaction must be regarded as a swindle. I speak on this melancholy theme, inasmuch as only a few minutes ago, by the grace of God, another nine thousand years achieved its wholeness in the arrival here of one more human being. The infant, I am pleased to report, is all right, and so is the mother. A little over seven pounds in weight, the new inhabitant of the world has been named Callaghan, after Mr. John Callaghan, whose son Dr. Neal Callaghan reached the mother four minutes after the birth had taken place. Mother and son have been transferred to a nearby hospital. For the record, I think you might like to know who helped most t make the birth as success. It was Pablo. I myself, ordinarily not very much amazed by anything, was very much amazed at the superior poise and control with which Pablo met the emergency, while almost everybody else stood around paralyzed and eager to take orders from him. No doubt a savage at heart, the situation, although unfamiliar, was one he could cope with instinctively, as he did, with perfect timing, magnificent calm, considerable humor, perfect English, and not the slightest abandonment of his own ego. Nine thousand years: one human being. Anonymous at birth, nobody knows who he’s liable to turn out to be. He is the most imaginative of all creations, and yet what happens, as his own years come to him, is usually ordinary, dull, and for the most part boring. We can predict for the man just born anything we like, but the truth is he is not very likely to grow into anything extraordinary. His father, at the age of twenty-seven or so, is in many ways special, in many things admirable, but on the whole nothing more than a good-natured, loud-voiced, intelligent, angry, sensible, absurd, and heroic young man. Callaghan Mallory, the new arrival, is breathing, and here to stay. If we are honest, we must admit with regret that he is here to no avail—other than perhaps that ultimately he shall enjoy good company, good food, good drink, and the several other things of this sort which are, in one degree or another, the compensations for all who have been swindled, and are breathing in the world. Critics of art, of music, of cooking, of manners, and of all other things, are men and women who want to know what goes on, why, and what it means. As I myself am a critic of all things, from the behavior of the common fly to the shape of the great fable, so, too, is each of you such a critic. Now, more than ever, you are wondering, What is this about? I don’t blame you. Finding little or no meaning in the world, you insist upon unmistakable meaning in created things, in things of illusion, of which this is, good or bad, an example. Is anything here intended to be taken seriously? Are you expected to understand any of this? The answer is, courteously, No more than you would be apt to understand anything else. No more, and no less. Neither I nor you are the same as we were when we met an hour ago. One hour from now we shall be a little different from what we are now. I am, here, the illusion of an American waiter in New York. You are, each of you, the illusion of the person who owns your name, your past, your years, your belongings, and so forth and so on. Each of us was once placed at the center of the universe as Callaghan Mallory has just been placed. Each of us has been, once, in his own person—small and helpless and charged with an infinite variety of compulsions—the substance, but not the explanation, of the great mystery of mortality. It appears to be our destiny that as long as we live we shall be only the substance of that mystery, and that as soon as we die there is no telling. In the meantime we are allowed to endure the interlude as pleasantly as we are able to manage. Outside of this restaurant is the illusion of the world. Here, in this restaurant, is the illusion of our reality— (The stage lights rise) —which we shall proceed to explore, while there is still time, and no deaths among you. (The place is empty except for FRITZ, the taxi-driver, and JIM, the bartender. They are drunk, but they are still drinking. They speak softly, almost whispering) FRITZ Do you want to know why? JIM I want to know why she came here in a cab. FRITZ Because I brought her here in a cab, that’s why. JIM Why did you bring her? FRITZ Because she was going to have a baby, that’s why. You want to know why? JIM Why? FRITZ Because you’ve got to have a lot of babies. JIM Why? FRITZ To keep the cabs going, that’s why. JIM Why? FRITZ So the cab-drivers can keep going. (Pause) JIM Oh. FRITZ I want to shake your hand. JIM Why? FRITZ Because you’re a gentleman. (They shake hands) You want to know why? JIM Why? FRITZ Because you want to keep the cab-drivers going, too, that’s why. You want to know why? JIM Why? FRITZ Because I want to keep the bartenders going. JIM Oh. I want to shake your hand. (They shake hands) Because you’re a gentleman, too. You want to know why? FRITZ Why? JIM Because you don’t ask questions the way some people do. FRITZ What questions? JIM The kind of questions people are always coming into a place and asking a bartender all the time. Why this and why that and why this and why that. FRITZ I want to shake your hand again. Do you want to know why? JIM Why? FRITZ Because you’re intelligent. Do you want to know what that means? JIM Yeah. What does it mean? (FRITZ looks around, as if he were about to utter a great State secret. He discovers the audience. He gets off the stool) FRITZ Just a minute. JIM What’s the matter? FRITZ Somebody’s listening. Somebody’s been eavesdropping. JIM Who? FRITZ (Indicating audience) The people. JIM Oh. FRITZ Have I said anything I’ll regret? JIM What’s it mean to be intelligent? FRITZ Nothing. Just forget I brought it up. Do you think I want to lose my chauffeur’s license? I’ve been drinking a little, that’s all. Give me one more drink. (A young man comes in) THE YOUNG MAN Give me one, too. JIM Scotch? THE YOUNG MAN O.K. (JIM places a drink each on the bar, and makes one for himself) Your health, gentlemen. FRITZ and JIM Yours, too. (They drink) THE YOUNG MAN Have you seen tomorrow’s paper yet? JIM No, I haven’t. FRITZ Well, I guess I’ll get back to work. THE YOUNG MAN It’s too late now. FRITZ What do you mean? THE YOUNG MAN Have you seen tomorrow’s paper yet? FRITZ No. Why? THE YOUNG MAN Well, if you had seen tomorrow’s paper, you’d know. FRITZ Know what? THE YOUNG MAN That it’s too late to get back to work. FRITZ Why? THE YOUNG MAN Because the news in tomorrow’s paper. FRITZ What news? THE YOUNG MAN That for over one thousand nine hundred and forty-one years the world has been inhabited by the dead, not the living. FRITZ You mean we’re dead? THE YOUNG MAN According to tomorrow’s paper FRITZ You mean you and me and the bartender? We’re all dead? THE YOUNG MAN I believe that’s the message in tomorrow’s paper. FRITZ You mean the lady who had the baby? And the baby? And everybody in the world? And everybody who ever lived in the world since one thousand nine hundred and forty-one years ago? THE YOUNG MAN That is the impression tomorrow’s paper seems to give. FRITZ What edition? THE YOUNG MAN The edition that came off the press at midnight. FRITZ the bartender) Run out and get a later edition, will you, Jim? THE YOUNG MAN There aren’t any later editions. FRITZ(To JIM) Well, run out into the street and ask somebody. THE YOUNG MAN There’s no street out there, and no people, either. FRITZ What do you mean? THE YOUNG MAN I mean the illusion broke at midnight tonight. FRITZ What illusion? THE YOUNG MAN The illusion of reality. Consequently, ever since midnight the dead have been truly the dead, and the unreal has been truly the unreal. There is nothing any more anywhere. FRITZ On the level? THE YOUNG MAN It’s in tomorrow’s paper and it appears to be on the level. FRITZ In that case, Jim, give me another drink. JIM In that case, I think I’d better have another myself. How about you? THE YOUNG MAN Thank you. FRITZ (Looking around) Well, what do you know? This is a surprise. I always thought something was phoney around here. Well, now I’m glad I know. I don’t have to get back to work any more, is that it? I’m through, hey? (THE YOUNG MAN nods) Well, that’s fine. Give me another drink, Jim. JIM (Getting the drinks) Well, this beats everything. FRITZ(To THE YOUNG MAN) What about those people out there? (He indicates the audience) THE YOUNG MAN What about them? FRITZ Dead or alive? THE YOUNG MAN Officially? Dead. They’ll last as long as we last. FRITZ How long is that going to be? THE YOUNG MAN Not very long. FRITZ Well, give me another drink, then. No more living. That’s all right. No more world. Are you sure? What about this money in my pocket? This seven dollars and forty-seven cents? THE YOUNG MAN You can give it to charity for all it’s worth. FRITZ How much more time we got? An hour? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Five minutes? Half a minute? Or what? THE YOUNG MAN Oh, no. Infinities, if we have any time at all. FRITZ Wait a minute. Wait a minute. There’s a catch here somewhere. What do you mean, infinities? How much more time we got before we’re dead? THE YOUNG MAN All the time in the world. We’re dead now. FRITZ Jim, just for the devil of it, run out into the street and take a look at things. JIM(Going) Sure. FRITZ Fond of drinking? THE YOUNG MAN Extremely. FRITZ Loaded to the gills, at the moment? THE YOUNG MAN At the moment, no. Sober as a judge. FRITZ Sober as a judge. Everybody dead. No world. Well, that’s all right. (Louder) How about it, Jim? JIM(Returning) He’s right, all right. FRITZ What do you mean? JIM There’s no street out there and nothing else, either. FRITZ You know what street that is out there, don’t you? JIM I know it used to be 52nd Street, East. FRITZ What is it now? JIM On my word of honor, nothing. FRITZ Isn’t my cab out there in front of the place? JIM No street, no cab, nothing. FRITZ Give me another drink. (To THE YOUNG MAN) No more illusion and stuff? THE YOUNG MAN No more. FRITZ Nothing’s going to happen any more? THE YOUNG MAN The same things are going to be repeated, and I might say they’re going to be repeated more or less endlessly, but outside of that everything is ended. JIM Why? FRITZ Why? What do you mean why, Jim? JIM Why is everything ended? What happened to 52nd Street, East? FRITZ Explain that to the bartender. THE YOUNG MAN The illusion broke at midnight. It was an accident, most likely. FRITZ (To JIM) Does that explain it? (Suddenly) Where’s my cab? You’re drunk, that’s all. THE YOUNG MAN Everything’s ended. The glue’s run out. JIM What glue? FRITZ Yeah, what glue? THE YOUNG MAN The glue that held the illusion together. FRITZ Well, give me another drink anyway. You may be right, you may be wrong. For all I care, you may be sober, you may be drunk. Whether I’m alive or whether I’m dead, all I want is a drink. If it’s ended or if it’s just begun, a Scotch and soda, please. Illusion or reality, no illusion or no reality, one drink more before I go. JIM My own words. (Drinks all around) My very own sentiments. (To THE YOUNG MAN) You a native of California? THE YOUNG MAN No. New York. JIM My name’s Jim. (He offers his hand) I’m pleased to meet you. FRITZ My name’s Fritz. (They shake hands) I’m pleased to meet you, too. THE YOUNG MAN It’s a pleasure. FRITZ What’s your name? THE YOUNG MAN Callaghan. FRITZ Callaghan. Isn’t that the name they gave the baby that was born here tonight? JIM That’s right. Callaghan. Callaghan—what was that young fellow’s last name? Harry— THE YOUNG MAN Mallory? JIM Yeah, Mallory. How did you know? THE YOUNG MAN A man usually knows his own name. FRITZ You’re not—Callaghan Mallory, are you? THE YOUNG MAN I am. FRITZ How come? Callaghan Mallory was born right here in this restaurant less than an hour ago. THE YOUNG MAN I entered the world just as the illusion broke, consequently I was here all the time the illusion was unbroken, as well as all the time thereafter. HARRY MALLORY’S VOICE (From the street) Where’s that door? Open up, let me in, I’ve been here before. (He breaks into the place) For a while there I was afraid I’d lost the place. Give me a drink, boys. FRITZ Who’s that? THE YOUNG MAN Myself. My father. My son. Yourself. Each of us. HARRY(Delighted) I suppose you guys are wondering where I came from, at a time like this. Well, let me tell you, there have been a lot of things hold me back, but, by God, one way or another, I’m here. I’ve brought six or seven diseases with me, but I’ve got good news, too. Give me another drink. FRITZ We heard the good news, if you want to call it good. The illusion’s broken or something. Everybody’s dead or something. Is that right? HARRY Take it easy, boys. Take it easy. (To CALLAGHAN) Who’re you? THE YOUNG MAN Callaghan’s the name. HARRY Oh, yes. I thought so. I’m your father, I believe. Well, that’s fine. If you lie, I apologize. She had a kind of helplessness that was irresistible. I liked her voice, the way she mispronounced words, the freckles on her feet, and a few other miscellaneous things like that. I am speaking, I hope you understand, of your mother. Rhinelander 2-8182. I never intended my affection for the freckles to set in motion energy endlessly deep in the past, and consequence far removed in the future, but, as you yourself by this time know, the order, or disorder, which governs this reality allows no alternative. Hence, yourself at this bar, by name Callaghan, a memorial, perhaps, to my eagerness and her freckles I hope you have a pleasant visit. To the day after tomorrow, gentlemen. FRITZ I don’t get it, but to the day after tomorrow. (They all drink) JIM What about tomorrow morning’s paper? HARRY The message there is one that has been in every paper, morning or afternoon, since the beginning. JIM Some illusion or something is supposed to be broken or something, and five minutes ago when I went out to the street there was nothing there. What about that? HARRY An improvement in optics, which was, perhaps fortunately, temporary. FRITZ What do you mean? HARRY Simply that, for a moment, for magnificent reasons, the eye was blind to the irrelevant and open to everything else. 52nd Street is again only 52nd Street. FRITZ We’re alive again? HARRY If you choose to call it that. FRITZ Is my cab out there? HARRY Unless it’s been stolen, or borrowed. FRITZ This is a hell of a note. JIM Everything’s the same again? HARRY The same? It’s worse, getting worse every minute. But it’s so in a way that’s irresistible to me, like her freckles. And, for one reason or another, irresistible to you, too. FRITZ We’re right back where we started from? HARRY Nobly, and with that delicate balance of despair and delight which glues all unrelated things into the continuity and architecture which are the fable and fantasy of this world and life. It took a lot of glue to bring your cab together; a lot of dying to make your Scotch; a lot of freckles to name you Callaghan. FRITZ Well, in that case, I guess I’ll get back to work. (Music begins—Impromptu for Harp, by Gabriel Faure, Op. 86, part 2. Everyone moves slowly) THE YOUNG MAN It’s been pleasant drinking with you, gentlemen. (He moves to go) FRITZ Can I drop you somewhere? THE YOUNG MAN It’s not far. I’ll walk. There’s no hurry. I’ve got all the time in the world. FRITZ You’ve had a few to drink. Let me take you. What’s the destination? THE YOUNG MAN No. Thanks. I’d rather take a little time. (He goes) FRITZ Where’s he think he’s going? HARRY To his mother—to himself. To a little over seven pounds of something or other that breathes. To about an hour and a half of infinity. FRITZ Well, so long, Jim. (Pause) Who do you like in the sixth at Saratoga tomorrow? JIM The big race? FRITZ Yeah, who do you like? JIM There was a jockey in here day before yesterday said a long shot might do it. A three-year-old named Tomorrow Morning. FRITZ Tomorrow Morning. The names they give them nags is something I can’t figure out. I’ll bet him two on the nose, three to place, and five to show. I’ll lose, but I like the name. So long. JIM So long. (HARRY stands alone, listening. JIM changes his coat and goes. HELEN and SAMMY go. PABLO and PANCHO, carrying tennis rackets, go. CALLAGHAN and PIPER go. CLAY goes. PEGGY comes in. HARRY turns. He stands looking at her a moment. He goes to her, takes her by the arm, and they go)