Street Scene (1929)/Act II

by Elmer Rice

Layout 2

ACT TWO

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Setting by Jo Mielziner

ACT TWO

Daybreak, the next morning. It is still quite dark and comparatively quiet. The rhythmic snoring in the Fiorentino apartment is still heard, and now and then, a distant “L” train or speeding automobile. A moment after the rise of the curtain, Jones appears, at the right, on his way home from the speakeasy. He reels, slightly, but negotiates the steps and entrance-door, without too much difficulty. It grows lighter—and noisier. The street-light goes out. The Olsen baby begins to cry. An alarm clock rings. A dog barks. A canary begins to sing. Voices are heard in the distance. They die out and other voices are heard. The house-door opens and Dr. Wilson comes out, passing Jones, at the top of the stoop. Dr. Wilson stands on the steps and yawns the yawn of an over-tired man. Then he lights a cigarette and goes towards the left.]

Buchanan’s Voice

Doctor!

Dr. Wilson

[Stopping and looking up]: Well?

 

Buchanan’s Voice

What if she does wake up?

Dr. Wilson

[Sharply]: She won’t, I’ve told you! She’s too exhausted. The best thing you can do is lie down and get some sleep yourself.

[As he goes off at the left, Mae and Dick appear. They walk slowly and listlessly and far apart.]

Dick

[As they reach the stoop]: Well, goo’ night.

Mae

[With a yawn, as she finds her latch-key]: Goo’ night. [Going up the steps and looking towards the Fiorentino apartment]: Aw, shut up, you wop!

Dick

[His dignity wounded]: How ’bout kissin’ me good-night?

Mae

[Venomously, from the top step]: For God’s sake, ain’t you had enough kissin’ for one night!

[She enters the vestibule and puts the key in the lock. The ringing of an alarm clock is heard.]

 

Dick

[Raising his voice]: Well, say, if that’s the way you feel about it—

Mae

Aw, go to hell!

[She enters the house. The alarm clock has stopped ringing.]

Dick

You dirty little tart!

[He stands, muttering to himself, for a moment, then goes off at the right, passing the Policeman, who looks at him, suspiciously. The sounds of a Swedish quarrel are heard from the janitor’s apartment. The baby is still crying. As the Policeman goes left, a Milkman appears, whistling and carrying a rack of full milk-bottles.]

The Policeman

Hello, Louie.

[The snoring in the Fiorentino apartment stops.]

The Milkman

Hello, Harry. Goin’ to be another scorcher.

The Policeman

You said it.

[He goes off at the left.]

[The Milkman crosses to the cellar steps. Mae appears, at the hall bedroom window of the Jones apartment, and removes her dress over her head. The Milkman, about to go down the steps, sees her and stops to watch. Mae, about to slip out of her step-in, sees him, throws him an angry look and pulls down the shade. The Milkman grins and goes down the cellar steps. Charlie Hildebrand comes out of the house. He is chewing gum and as he comes out to the top of the stoop, he scatters the wrappings of the stick of gum on the stoop. Then he jumps down the four steps of the stoop, in one jump, and goes off at the left, pulling the chewing-gum out in a long ribbon, and carefully avoiding all the cracks in the pavement. A Young Workman, carrying a kit of tools and a tin lunch-box, appears at the left, extinguishes the red light on the excavation, and opening the door, goes in. A Tramp comes on at the right and shuffles across. He sees a cigar butt on the pavement, picks it up and pockets it, as he exits at the left. Rose, in her nightgown, appears at the window, yawns slightly and disappears. It is daylight now. The baby stops crying. Mrs. Olsen comes up the cellar steps. She goes up the stoop, turns out the light in the vestibule, and takes the door off the latch. The Milkman comes up the cellar steps, his tray laden with empty bottles and goes off, whistling, at the left. Sam, coatless, a book in his hand, appears at the window. He looks out for a moment, then climbs out on the stoop, looks up at Rose’s window, then seats himself and begins to read. Willie comes out of the house.]

Willie

[Chanting, as he comes down the steps]: Fat, Fat the water-rat, Fifty bullets in his hat.

Sam

Hello, Willie. Is Rose up yet?

Willie

[Without stopping or looking at him]: Yeah. I don’t know. I guess so.

[He turns a somersault and goes off at left, continuing his chanting. Sam glances up at Rose’s window again, then resumes his book. Mrs. Jones and her dog come out of the house.]

Mrs. Jones

[Haughtily, as she comes down the steps]: Mornin’.

Sam

[Scarcely looking up from his book]: Good morning.

[Mrs. Jones and the dog go off at the right. A middle-aged workman, carrying a large coil of wire, appears at the left and goes to the door of the excavation. Mrs. Olsen comes out of the house and exits into the basement.]

The Workman

[Calling]: You down there, Eddie?

A Voice

[From the depths]: Yeah!

The Workman

All right!

[He climbs down into the excavation. Rose comes to window and pulls up the shade. Willie and Charlie can be heard, offstage left, engaged in an earnest conversation.]

Charlie

[Offstage]: He could not!

Willie

[Offstage]: He could so!

[They appear at left. Each has under his arm, a paper-bag, from which a loaf of bread protrudes.]

Charlie

I’ll betcha he couldn’t.

 

Willie

I’ll betcha he could.

Charlie

I’ll betcha a million dollars he couldn’t.

Willie

I’ll betcha five million dollars he could. Hold that! [He hands Charlie his loaf of bread and turns a cart-wheel.] Bet you can’t do it.

Charlie

Bet I can.

[He puts both loaves of bread on the pavement, attempts a cart-wheel and fails.]

Willie

[Laughing raucously]: Haw-haw! Told you you couldn’t!

Charlie

Can you do this?

[He turns a back somersault.]

Willie

Sure—easy!

[He turns a back somersault. They pick up their loaves again. Willie’s drops out of the bag, but he dusts it, with his hand, and replaces it.]

How many steps can you jump up?

 

Charlie

Three.

[He jumps up three steps.]

Willie

I can do four.

Charlie

Let’s see you.

[Willie, the bread under his arm, jumps up the four steps, undisturbed by Sam’s presence. He drops the bread, and is about to replace it in the bag, but gets a better idea. He inflates the bag and explodes it with a blow of his fist. Charlie looks on, in admiration and envy.]

Rose

[Appearing at the window]: Willie, we’re waiting for the bread.

Willie

[Holding it up]: All right! Cantcha see I got it?

[He enters the house, followed by Charlie.]

Sam

[Rising]: Hello, Rose.

 

Rose

Hello, Sam.

Sam

Come down.

Rose

I haven’t had breakfast yet. [Calling into the room]: Yes! He’s on his way up.

Miss Cushing

[Coming out of the house]: Good morning.

[She looks inquiringly from Sam to Rose.]

Sam

[Impatiently]: Good morning.

[A middle-aged nun appears at the right, accompanied by a scrawny child of about fourteen. They walk across the stage.]

Rose

Good morning, Miss Cushing.

[Miss Cushing goes off, at the left, glancing back at Rose and Sam.]

Rose

I’m going to Mr. Jacobson’s funeral. [Calling into the room]: Yes, I’m coming. [To Sam]: Breakfast’s ready. I’ll be down as soon as the dishes are done.

[She disappears. Sam looks up at the window, for a moment, then begins to read again. Mrs. Fiorentino appears at the window, at the extreme left, with a double armful of bedding, which she deposits upon the window-sill. Then she goes away again.]

Shirley

[Appearing at the window]: Sam, breakfast is ready.

Sam

I don’t want any breakfast.

Shirley

What do you mean, you don’t want any breakfast? What kind of a business is that, not to eat breakfast?

Sam

Do I have to eat breakfast, if I don’t want to?

Shirley

You’ve got your head so full of that Rose Maurrant upstairs, that you don’t want to eat or sleep or anything, any more.

Sam

If I don’t feel like eating, why should I eat? [Bursting out]: You’re always telling me: “Eat!” “Don’t eat!” “Get up!” “Go to bed!” I know what I want to do, without being told.

 

Shirley

I don’t see, just when you’re graduating from college, why you want to get mixed up with a little batzimer like that!

Sam

It’s always the same thing over again with you. You never can get over your race prejudice. I’ve told you a hundred times that the Jews are no better than anybody else.

Shirley

I’m not talking about that! Look at the kind of family she comes from. What’s her father? Nothing but an illiterate rough-neck. And her mother—

Sam

[Indignantly]: Are you starting, too?

Kaplan’s Voice

Shoi-ley!

Shirley

Wait a minute, papa’s calling. [Into the room]: All right, papa! [To Sam]: Come in, Sam, or papa will be making long speeches again.

Sam

[Impatiently]: All right! All right! I’ll come.

[A young shopgirl, smiling to herself, appears at the right and walks across the stage. Sam rises and goes into the house. Shirley leaves the window. Buchanan, emerging from the house, collarless and unshaven, encounters Sam in the vestibule.]

Buchanan

[Eagerly]: Good morning!

Sam

[Abruptly]: Good morning.

[He enters the house. Buchanan looks back at him, then comes down the steps. Mrs. Fiorentino raises the drawn shade and opens the window.]

Mrs. Fiorentino

Good morning, Mr. Buchanan.

Buchanan

Oh, good morning, Mrs. Fiorentino. [Going over to the left balustrade]: I guess you know that the baby came last night, don’t you?

Mrs. Fiorentino

No! I did not hear a vord about it.

Buchanan

Why, I thought she’d wake up the whole neighborhood, the way she was yelling. Three-thirty this morning, the baby came. I been up the whole night.

[An old Letter-Carrier, coatless, appears at the right.]

Mrs. Fiorentino

A boy, is it?

Buchanan

No, it’s a little girl. I guess we’ll call her Mary, after my mother.

Letter-Carrier

[Going up the steps]: Mornin’.

Mrs. Fiorentino

Good morning. Any letters for me?

Letter-Carrier

[From the top of the steps]: No, not a thing.

Buchanan

[Turning toward him]: I was just telling Mrs. Fiorentino, I had a little addition to my family last night.

Letter-Carrier

Your first, is it?

Buchanan

[Hastening to explain]: Well, we’ve only been married a little over a year.

 

Letter-Carrier

Well, I’ve had seven, an’ I’m still luggin’ a mail-bag at sixty-two.

[He goes into the vestibule and puts the mail into the letter-boxes.]

Mrs. Fiorentino

How is your wife?

Buchanan

Well, she had a pretty hard time of it. Her sister’s up there with her. And Mrs. Maurrant was up, nearly all night. I don’t know what we’d have done without her.

Letter-Carrier

[Coming down the steps]: It don’t pay to let ’em have their own way, too much. That’s where I made my mistake.

[As the Letter-Carrier goes off, at the left, Lippo appears at the window behind his wife, and tickles her.]

Mrs. Fiorentino

[Startled]: Lippo!

Buchanan

Morning. I was just telling your wife—

 

Mrs. Fiorentino

Lippo, what do you think? Mr. Buchanan has a little girl!

Lippo

Ah, dotsa fine! Margherita, why you don’ have da baby, ha?

Mrs. Fiorentino

[Abruptly]: I must go and make the coffee.

[She goes away from the window. Olsen comes half-way up the steps and leans against the railing, smoking his pipe.]

A Voice

[Offstage left]: Oh-h! Corn! Sweet corn!

Lippo

Ees funny t’ing. You gotta da leetle, skeeny wife an she’s hava da baby. My Margherita, she’s beeg an’ fat an’ she no can hava da baby.

Buchanan

Well, that’s the way o’ the world, I guess.

[As he goes off, at the left, an Ice-Man appears, trundling a three-wheeled cart, filled with ice.]

Lippo

Buon giorno, Mike.

 

Mike

Buon giorno, signore. Come sta?

Lippo

Benissimo. Fa molto caldo ancora, oggi.

Mike

Si, si, signore. Bisognera abbastanza ghiaccio. Twen’y fi’ cent, ha?

Lippo

No, no, e troppo.

Mike

Twen’y cent? Eesa melta fas’.

Lippo

Alla right. Gimme twen’y cent.

Mike

Si, si, signore. Sure.

[As he wheels the cart to the cellar-entrance and begins to chop a block of ice, a man in shirt-sleeves strides in from the left and stops at the curb, as though seeing someone in a house across the street.]

The Man

[Angrily]: Well, what about it? We’ve been waiting a half an hour!

 

A Voice

I’ll be right over!

The Man

Yeah? Well, make it snappy!

[He strides off at the left, muttering angrily. Rose comes out of the house and stands in the doorway, looking for Sam. Then she comes out on the stoop and peers to the Kaplan apartment. As she turns away, she see Lippo.]

Rose

[Crossing to the left of the stoop]: Good morning.

Lippo

Gooda mornin’, Meesa Maurrant.

[Mike goes down into the cellar, with a chunk of ice.]

Rose

It’s awful hot again, isn’t it?

Lippo

You don’ like?

Rose

I don’t sleep very well, when it’s so hot.

Lippo

No? Ahm sleepa fine. Een Eetaly, where Ahm born, is much more ’ot like ’ere. Een summer, ees too ’ot for workin’. Ees too ’ot only for sleepin’. W’en Ahm leetla boy, Ahm sleepa, sleepa, whola day. I don’t wear no clo’s—nawthin’ only leetle short pair pants. I lay down on groun’ under da lemon-tree, Ahm sleepa whola day.

Rose

Under a lemon-tree! That must have been nice.

Lippo

Ees smella sweet, lemon-tree. Where Ahm born ees t’ousan’ lemon-tree. Lemon an’ olive an’ arancia.

Rose

Oh, that must be lovely!

Lippo

Ah, ees bew-tiful! Ees most bewtiful place in whole worl’. You hear about Sorrent’, ha?

Rose

No, I don’t think I ever did.

Lippo

[Incredulously]: You never hear about Sorrent’?

Rose

No, I don’t know much about geography. Is it a big place?

 

Lippo

Ees not vera beeg—but ever’body know Sorrent’. Sorrento gentile! La bella Sorrento! You hear about Napoli—Baia di Napoli?

Rose

Oh yes, the Bay of Naples! Is it near there?

Lippo

Sure, ees on Bay of Napoli. Ees bew-tiful! Ees alla blue. Sky blue, water blue, sun ees shine alla time.

Rose

Oh, how lovely.

[Mike comes up the cellar-steps, chops another block of ice, and goes down the cellar-steps with it.]

Lippo

An’ ees Vesuvio, too. You hear about Vesuvio?—ees beeg volcano.

Rose

Oh yes, sure. I saw a picture once, called The Last Days of Pompeii, and it showed Mount Vesuvius, with smoke coming out of the top.

Lippo

Da’s right. An’ night-time, ees fire come out, maka da sky red.

 

Rose

Didn’t it frighten you?

Lippo

Ah no, ees nawthin’ to be afraid. Ees jus’ volcano.

Rose

I’d love to go to Italy. It must be awfully pretty. But I don’t suppose I ever will.

Lippo

W’y sure! Some day you gonna marry reech fella; ’e’s taka you Eetaly—ever’where.

Rose

I guess there’s not much chance of that. Rich fellows aren’t going around looking for girls like me to marry. Anyhow, I don’t think money is everything, do you?

Lippo

Ees good to hava money. Da’s w’y Ahm come to America. Een Eetaly, ees bewtiful, but ees no money. ’Ere ees not bewtiful, but ees plenty money. Ees better to ’ave money.

[An elderly man, in the gray uniform of a special officer, comes out of the house, filling his pipe from a tobacco-box.]

 

The Man

Good mornin’.

Rose

Good morning, Mr. Callahan. [The Man drops the empty tobacco-tin on the sidewalk and goes off slowly at the left.] I don’t think I’d be happy, just marrying a man with money, if I didn’t care for him, too.

Lippo

[Laughing]: Wotsa matter, ha? You lova da leetla kike, ha?

Rose

Why no, I don’t. I don’t love anybody—at least, I don’t think I do. But it’s not on account of his being a Jew.

Lippo

No, ees no good—Jew. ’E’s only t’ink about money, money—alla time money.

Rose

But Sam isn’t like that, a bit. He’s only interested in poetry and things like that.

[The Ice-Man comes up out of the cellar and trundles off his cart at the right.]

 

Mrs. Fiorentino

[Calling]: Lippo! Breakfast!

Lippo

[Calling]: Alla right, Margherita! [To Rose]: You marry fella wit’ lot o’ money. Ees much better.

[He goes away from the window, as Miss Cushing appears, at the left, carrying a paper-bag.]

Rose

How’s your mother today, Miss Cushing?

Miss Cushing

She’s not feeling so good today.

Rose

It’s too bad she’s not feeling well.

Miss Cushing

I’m afraid it’s her heart. At her age, you know—!

[As she enters the house, Two College Girls of nineteen appear at the right.]

First Girl

[As they appear]: I don’t understand it.

Second Girl

Convex is this way; and concave is this way.

 

First Girl

That I know.

Second Girl

When you’re near-sighted, they give you convex glasses, and when you’re far-sighted, they give you concave.

First Girl

That I didn’t know.

Second Girl

Of course, you know it. Didn’t we have it in psychology?

First Girl

[As they disappear at the left]: I don’t remember.

[Willie comes out of the house, on his way to school. He is hatless, and carries his books under his arm.]

Rose

[Intercepting him at the top of the stoop]: Why, Willie, the way you look! Your collar’s all open.

Willie

I know it! De button came off.

Rose

Why didn’t you ask ma to sew it on for you?

 

Willie

She ain’t dere. She’s up at Buchanan’s.

Rose

Well, wait till I see if I have a pin.

[She searches in her hand-bag.]

Willie

[Starting down the steps]: Aw, it’s all right de way it is.

Rose

[Following him to the sidewalk]: No, it isn’t. You can’t go to school like that. [Producing a safety-pin]: Now, hold still, while I fix it.

Willie

[Squirming]: Aw, fer de love o’ Mike—!

Rose

You’ll get stuck, if you don’t hold still. There, that looks better, now. And you didn’t comb your hair, either.

Willie

[Trying to escape]: Say, lemme alone, cantcha?

Rose

[Taking a comb out of her hand-bag and combing his hair]: You can’t go to school looking like a little street-loafer.

Willie

Aw, you gimme a pain in de—

Rose

You’re getting big enough to comb your own hair, without being told. There! Now you look very nice.

Willie

So’s your old man!

[He runs towards the left kicking the empty tobacco tin ahead of him, then stops, turns and deliberately rumples his hair.]

Rose

[Indignantly, as Willie runs off]: Why, Willie!

[Mrs. Jones and the dog appear at the right. Olsen knocks the ashes out of his pipe and goes down into the cellar. Mrs. Maurrant comes out of the house.]

Rose

Hello, ma.

Mrs. Jones

[At the steps]: Good mornin’.

 

Rose

Mrs. Maurrant

Good morning, Mrs. Jones.

Mrs. Jones

How’s little Mrs. Buchanan gettin’ on?

Mrs. Maurrant

Well, she’s sleeping now, poor thing. She was so worn out, she just went off into a sound sleep. I really didn’t think, last night, she’d have the strength to pull through it.

Mrs. Jones

Well, it’s somethin’, we all got to go through. I been through enough with mine, I hope to tell you. Not that they didn’t turn out all right.

Mrs. Maurrant

I wouldn’t give up having mine for anything in the world.

Mrs. Jones

Well, after all, what more does any woman want than watchin’ her kids grow up an’ a husband to look out for her?

Mrs. Maurrant

Yes, that’s true.

 

Mrs. Jones

Yes, and the world would be a whole lot better off, if there was more that lived up to it. [Starting up the steps]: Well, I gotta get my Mae up out o’ bed. Gawd knows what time she got in, this mornin’. [She enters the vestibule, then stops and turns.] If you don’t mind my bein’ so bold, Mrs. Maurrant—an’ I don’t mind sayin’ it in front of your daughter, either—I’d think twice before I’d let any child o’ mine bring a Jew into the family.

Rose

[With a show of temper]: I don’t see what it has to do with you, Mrs. Jones.

Mrs. Jones

There’s no need to get huffy about it. I’m only advisin’ you for your own good. I’m sure it don’t make no difference to me what you do. Come on, Queenie.

[She goes into the house.]

Rose

Well, of all the nerve I ever heard in my life—! She and those wonderful children of hers!

Mrs. Maurrant

[Coming half way down the steps]: The best way is not to pay any attention to her. There’s lots of people like that, in the world—they never seem to be happy, unless they’re making trouble for somebody. Did Willie go to school?

Rose

Yes, he did. It’s awful the way he goes around, looking like a little tough. And the language he uses, too.

Mrs. Maurrant

I know. I just don’t seem able to manage him, any more.

Rose

I sometimes wonder if it wouldn’t be better for us all, if we moved out to the suburbs somewhere—you know, some place in Jersey or Staten Island.

Mrs. Maurrant

I don’t think pop would do it. [As Maurrant comes out of the house, carrying a much-battered satchel]: Are you leaving now, Frank?

Maurrant

[From the top of the stoop]: Looks like it, don’t it. Where you been all this while?

Mrs. Maurrant

Why, you know where I’ve been, Frank—up to Mrs. Buchanan’s.

 

Maurrant

Yeah? An’ where you goin’ now?

Mrs. Maurrant

Just around to Kraus’s to get a chicken. I thought I’d make her some chicken-soup, to give her strength.

Maurrant

Say, how about lookin’ after your own home an’ lettin’ the Buchanans look after theirs.

Mrs. Maurrant

All I’m trying to do is to be a little neighborly. It’s the least anybody can do, with the poor thing hardly able to lift her hand.

Maurrant

That’s all right about that! [Coming down the steps]: A woman’s got a right to stay in her own home, lookin’ after her husband an’ children.

Mrs. Maurrant

[Going towards him]: What else have I been doing all these years, I’d like to know?

Maurrant

Well, just see that you don’t forget it, that’s all—or there’s li’ble to be trouble.

 

Mrs. Maurrant

[Putting her hand on his arm]: All right, Frank. Don’t say any more, please. When will you be back—to-morrow?

Maurrant

I don’ know when I’ll be back. Whenever I’m t’roo wit’ me work—that’s when. What are you so anxious to know for, huh?

Mrs. Maurrant

Why, I just asked, that’s all.

Maurrant

Oh, you just asked, huh? Just in case somebody wanted to come aroun’ callin’, is that it?

Mrs. Maurrant

No, it isn’t. It isn’t anything of the kind. You got no right to talk to me like that, in front of my own daughter. You got no right. No, you haven’t!

[She turns away and hurries off, abruptly, at the left.]

Rose

Ma!

[She starts to run after her mother.]

Maurrant

[Imperiously]: Come back here, you! [Rose hesitates.] Come back, hear me? [Rose turns and comes slowly back.] You stay right here. [He puts down his satchel and takes a flask from his pocket.]

Rose

Why do you talk to her like that?

Maurrant

Nobody’s askin’ you.

Rose

If you were only a little nicer to her, maybe everything would be different.

Maurrant

Yeah? Where’s she got any kick comin’. Ain’t I always been a good husband to her? Ain’t I always looked after her?

[He takes a drink.]

Rose

It’s not that, pop. It’s somebody to be sort of nice to her that she wants—sort of nice and gentle, the way she is to you. That’s all it is.

Maurrant

[Turning to her]: So she’s got you headed the same way, has she? Goin’ out nights with married men, huh?

 

Rose

You don’t need to worry about me, pop. I can take care of myself, all right.

Maurrant

No daughter o’ mine ain’t gonna go that way. I seen too many o’ those kind around the theayter.

Rose

Things are different, nowadays, Pop. I guess maybe you don’t realize that. Girls aren’t the way they used to be—sort of soft and helpless. A girl nowadays knows how to look out for herself. But not her, pop; she needs somebody to look after her.

Maurrant

Aw, can all that talk! You been listenin’ to them bolshevikis, that’s the trouble. But I’m gonna keep you straight, by God, or I’ll know the reason why.

Rose

I guess I’ve got a right to think about things for myself.

Maurrant

Yeah? Well, don’t let me ketch that other bozo comin’ around here, either—that’s all I got to say.

 

Rose

[Hesitantly, going up to him]: Pop, listen—couldn’t we get a little house somewhere—Queens or somewhere like that?

Maurrant

What’s the idea?

Rose

Well, I don’t know. I sort of thought it would be nice for all of us. And maybe if ma had a nice little home and some real nice neighbors—do you see what I mean?

Maurrant

This place suits me all right.

Rose

You can get some real nice little houses, that don’t cost such an awful lot. And I wouldn’t mind helping to pay for it. And once we had it all fixed up—

Maurrant

Forget it! I don’ know when I’ll be back. [As he starts to go right]: An’ remember what I tol’ you, hear?

Mrs. Jones

[Appearing at her window, with a tin dust-pan]: Good mornin’, Mr. Maurrant. You off on a little trip?

 

Maurrant

[Curtly]: Yeah.

[He goes off. Mrs. Jones empties the dust-pan out of the window and goes away. Kaplan comes out of the house, a bundle of newspapers, under his arm. He walks slowly and painfully, with the aid of a heavy stick.]

Kaplan

[At the foot of the steps]: Vy do you look so sed, hm?

Rose

[Turning, and sitting on the right balustrade]: Oh, good morning, Mr. Kaplan.

Kaplan

A young girl, like you, should not look so sed.

Rose

I’m not sad, especially, only—

Kaplan

You got troubles, hm?

Rose

I don’t know. It’s just sort of everything.

Kaplan

Velt-schmerz you got, hm? Vit’ my boy Sem is de same t’ing. Dees vay you feel only ven you are yong. Ven you gat old like me, you tink only: “Moch longer I von’t be here.”

Rose

Why should things be the way they are, Mr. Kaplan? Why must people always be fighting and having troubles, instead of just sort of being happy together.

Kaplan

My dear yong leddy, ef I could enser dis quastion, I would be de greatest benefactor thet de verld hes ever known. Dees is som’t’ing, vich all de philosophers hev been unable to enser. De ones thet believe in God, say de davil is responsible; and de ones thet don’t believe in God, say ’uman nature is responsible. It is my opinion thet most unheppiness can be traced to economic cosses and thet—

[Charlie and Mary Hildebrand have come out of the house, carrying their school-books.]

Mary

Hello.

Rose

Hello, Mary. Hello, Charlie.

Charlie

Hello.

 

Mary

[Chattily, as they reach the sidewalk]: We’re going to be dispossessed today.

Rose

What a shame!

Mary

Yes, ma’am. My father went away and so we couldn’t pay the rent.

Charlie

[Tugging at her arm]: Aw, come on, Mary.

Rose

Have you another place to live, Mary?

Mary

No ma’am. But Miss Simpson, from the Charities, says she’ll find us a place. She says we must learn to be less extravagant.

Charlie

Come ahead, will you?

Mary

I’m going to school now. Good-bye.

 

Rose

Good-bye.

[The children go off, at the left.]

Kaplan

More trobles!

Rose

I know. Isn’t it awful to think of them being turned out in the street like that?

Kaplan

In a ciwilized verld, soch t’ings could not heppen.

Rose

You mean if there were different laws?

Kaplan

Not laws! We got already too many laws. Ve must hev ection, not laws. De verking-klesses must t’row off de yoke of kepitalism, and ebolish wage-slavery.

Rose

But wouldn’t people still be unkind to each other and fight and quarrel among themselves?

Kaplan

My dear young leddy, so long as ve keep men in slevery, dey vill behave like sleves. But wance ve establish a verld based upon ’uman needs and not upon ’uman greed—

Rose

You mean people will begin being nice to each other and making allowances and all?

Kaplan

All dees vill come. Wot ve hev now is a wicious soicle. On de one hend, ve hev a rotten economic system—

Rose

Excuse me, here’s my mother.

[She goes towards the left, as Mrs. Maurrant approaches, a paper package in her hand. Kaplan goes off, at the right.]

Mrs. Maurrant

[As Rose comes up to her]: Did he go?

[They stop on the pavement, at the left of the stoop.]

Rose

Yes.

Mrs. Maurrant

I got a little chicken, to make Mrs. Buchanan some soup.

Rose

He had a flask with him, ma. I hope he doesn’t start drinking.

 

Mrs. Maurrant

What did he say—anything?

Rose

No, only the way he always talks. I tried to talk to him about buying a house, somewheres, but he wouldn’t listen.

Mrs. Maurrant

No, I knew he wouldn’t.

Rose

It doesn’t seem to be any use trying to get him to listen to anything.

Mrs. Maurrant

It’s always been that way. I’ve always tried to be a good wife to him, Rose. But it never seemed to make any difference to him.

Rose

I know, ma.

Mrs. Maurrant

And I’ve tried to be a good mother, too.

Rose

I know, ma. I know just the way you feel about it.

 

Mrs. Maurrant

[Appealingly]: Do you, Rose?

Rose

Yes, ma, I do. Honest I do.

Mrs. Maurrant

I’ve always tried to make a nice home for him and to do what’s right. But it doesn’t seem to be any use.

Rose

I know, ma. [Hesitantly]: But it’s on account of—[She stops.]

Mrs. Maurrant

Are you going to start, too? Are you going to start like all the others?

[She turns away and bursts into tears.]

Rose

[Fondling her]: Don’t ma. Please don’t.

Mrs. Maurrant

I thought you’d be the one that would feel different.

Rose

I do, ma—really I do.

 

Mrs. Maurrant

What’s the good of being alive, if you can’t get a little something out of life? You might just as well be dead.

Rose

Look out, ma. Somebody’s coming.

[A smartly-dressed girl, with one side of her face covered with cotton and adhesive tape, appears at the left and crosses the stage. At the same time, Jones comes out of the house. Rose and Mrs. Maurrant stand in awkward silence, as he comes down the stoop and approaches them.]

Jones

Well, is it hot enough for you, today?

Rose

It’s awful, isn’t it?

Jones

[As he goes towards the left]: You said it. Still along about January, we’ll all be wishin’ we had a little o’ this weather.

[He exits. Mrs. Maurrant goes towards the stoop.]

Rose

Ma, listen. If I say something, will you listen to me?

 

Mrs. Maurrant

Yes, sure I will, Rose. I’ll listen to anything you say, only—

Rose

Well, what I was thinking was, if he didn’t come around here so much, maybe. Do you see what I mean, ma?

Mrs. Maurrant

[Constrainedly]: Yes, Rose.

Rose

[Putting her arm around her]: It’s on account of all that’s going around—everybody in the whole house. You see what I mean, don’t you, ma?

Mrs. Maurrant

Every person in the world has to have somebody to talk to. You can’t live without somebody to talk to. I’m not saying that I can’t talk to you, Rose, but you’re only a young girl and it’s not the same thing.

Rose

It’s only on account of pop. I’m scared of what he’s likely to do, if he starts drinking.

Mrs. Maurrant

Well, I’ll see, Rose. Sometimes I think I’d be better off if I was dead.

 

Rose

If there was only something I could do.

Mrs. Maurrant

There isn’t anything anybody could do. It’s just the way things are, that’s all.

[Buchanan appears at the left. They turn and face him, as he approaches.]

Mrs. Maurrant

Oh, Mr. Buchanan, I got a little chicken, so that I could make her some good, nourishing soup.

Buchanan

Well, say, you got to let me pay you for it.

Mrs. Maurrant

Oh, never mind about that. We’ll have the chicken for supper tonight. Did you have her medicine made up?

Buchanan

Yes, I got it right here. I called up the office and they told me not to come down today.

Mrs. Maurrant

Well, that’s very nice. It’ll be a comfort to her to have you around.

 

Buchanan

Yes, that’s what I thought, too. Well, I’d better be getting upstairs.

[He goes up the steps.]

Mrs. Maurrant

I’ll be up later, with the soup.

Buchanan

Well, thanks. [Stopping at the top of the stoop and turning to her]: You’ve been a mighty good neighbor, Mrs. Maurrant.

[He enters the house.]

Mrs. Maurrant

He’s an awful nice, young feller—so nice and gentle. And he’s always trying to be so helpful. It makes you feel sort of sorry for him.

[Shirley comes out of the house, carrying a large wicker bag, which contains her lunch and school-books. She takes a post-card out of the mail-box.]

Mrs. Maurrant

[Going up the steps]: Well, I’d better go and start this chicken. Are you coming home for lunch, Rose?

Rose

Yes. I’ll be back, as soon as the funeral’s over.

 

Mrs. Maurrant

Oh, all right. [As she sees Shirley]: Good morning.

Shirley

[Coming out of the vestibule, reading the post-card]: Good morning.

Rose

Good morning.

[Mrs. Maurrant goes into the house. The shade of Mae’s window flies up and she is seen, for an instant, dressed only in her step-in. She yawns noisily and turns away from the window.]

Rose

[Seating herself on the stoop]: It’s another awful day, isn’t it?

Shirley

Yes, and when you have to keep forty children quiet—! Well, thank goodness, in two weeks, school closes. Otherwise, I think I’d go crazy.

Rose

Well, you get a nice, long vacation, anyhow.

Shirley

Not much vacation for me. I’m taking Summer courses at Teachers’ College. [She looks at Rose a moment, hesitates, and then comes down the steps.] Miss Maurrant, if you don’t mind, I want to talk to you about my brother, Sam.

Rose

Why certainly, Miss Kaplan.

Shirley

I guess you know he’s only finishing college, this month—

Rose

Yes, of course, I do.

Shirley

Then he has to go three years to law-school and pass the bar examination, before he can be a full-fledged lawyer.

Rose

Yes, it takes a long time.

Shirley

A long time and lots of money. And before a young lawyer begins to make his own living, that takes a long time, too. It will be ten years, maybe, before he’s making enough to support himself and a family. [Looking away.] Then, it’s time enough for him to think about marriage.

Rose

You don’t mean me and Sam, Miss Kaplan?

Shirley

Yes, that’s just what I mean.

Rose

Why, we’re just good friends, that’s all.

Shirley

I know how it is with a boy like Sam, Miss Maurrant. He thinks he’s a man, already; but he’s nothing but a boy. If you’re such a good friend, you shouldn’t take his mind away from his work.

Rose

But I haven’t meant to, Miss Kaplan—honest I haven’t.

Shirley

I’ve had to work hard enough to get him as far as he is. And I have my father to take care of, too. The few dollars he makes, writing for the radical papers, don’t even pay the rent. Believe me, every dollar I make goes.

Shirley

I know. Sam’s often told me how much he owes to you.

 

Shirley

He doesn’t owe me anything. I don’t care about the money. Only he should be thinking about his work and not about other things.

Rose

Yes, he should be thinking about his work. But don’t you think there are other things in the world, too, besides just work?

Shirley

Don’t you think I know that? I know that just as well as you do. Maybe, you think I’m only an old-maid school-teacher, without any feelings.

Rose

Oh, I don’t—really I don’t!

Shirley

[Turning her head away]: Maybe I’m not a movie vamp, with dimples—but I could have had my chances, too. Only, I wanted to give Sam an education.

Rose

I haven’t tried to vamp Sam, honestly I haven’t. We just seemed sort of naturally to like each other.

Shirley

Why must you pick out Sam? You could get other fellows. Anyhow, it’s much better to marry with your own kind. When you marry outside your own people, nothing good ever comes of it. You can’t mix oil and water.

Rose

I don’t know. I think if people really care about each other—

Shirley

He’s nothing but a baby. He sees a pretty face and, right away, he forgets about everything else.

Rose

[With a flash of temper]: I know I haven’t as much brains as Sam, or as you, either, if that’s what you mean.

Shirley

[Contritely, going towards her]: I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I haven’t got anything against you. Only, he’s all I’ve got in the world. What else have I got to live for?

Sam

[Appearing at the extreme right window, with a cup of coffee and a piece of coffee-cake]: Hello, Rose.

Rose

Hello, Sam.

 

Shirley

[In a low tone]: Please don’t tell him what I said.

[Sam goes to the other window.]

Rose

Oh no, I won’t.

[Shirley hurries off, at the left.]

Rose

[Rising and turning towards Sam]: Sam—

Sam

[Holding out the coffee-cake]: Want some coffee-cake?

Rose

No. [Going up the steps]: Sam, there’s something I want to ask you, before I forget. Is there any special way you have to act in a synagogue?

Sam

[Eating throughout]: In a synagogue?

Rose

Yes. The funeral I’m going to, is in a synagogue, and I thought there might be some special thing you have to do. Like in church, you know, a girl is always supposed to keep her hat on.

 

Sam

I don’t know. I’ve never in my life been in a synagogue.

Rose

Didn’t you ever go to Sunday-school, or anything like that?

Sam

No.

Rose

That’s funny. I thought everybody went, once in a while. How about when your mother died?

Sam

She was cremated. My parents were always rationalists.

Rose

Didn’t they believe in God or anything?

Sam

What do you mean by God?

Rose

[Puzzled]: Well—you know what I mean. What anybody means—God. Somebody that sort of loves us and looks after us, when we’re in trouble.

 

Sam

[Sitting on the window-sill]: That’s nothing but superstition—the lies that people tell themselves, because reality is too terrible for them to face.

Rose

But, Sam, don’t you think it’s better to believe in something that makes you a little happy, than not to believe in anything and be miserable all the time?

Sam

There’s no such thing as happiness. That’s an illusion, like all the rest.

Rose

Then, what’s the use of living?

Sam

[Brushing the last crumbs off his hands]: Yes, what is the use?

Rose

Why, you oughtn’t to talk like that, Sam—a person with all the talent and brains that you’ve got. I know things aren’t just. the way you want them to be. But they aren’t for anybody. They aren’t for me, either.

Sam

Then, why don’t we get out of it, together?

 

Rose

I don’t see just how we could do that, Sam.

Sam

It would be easy enough—ten cents’ worth of carbolic acid.

Rose

Why, Sam, you don’t mean kill ourselves!

Sam

Is your life so precious to you that you want to cling to it?

Rose

Well, yes. I guess it is.

Sam

Why? Why? What is there in life to compensate for the pain of living?

Rose

There’s a lot. Just being alive—breathing and walking around. Just looking at the faces of people you like and hearing them laugh. And seeing the pretty things in the store-windows. And rough-housing with your kid brother. And—oh, I don’t know—listening to a good band, and dancing—Oh, I’d hate to die! [Earnestly]: Sam, promise you won’t talk about killing yourself, any more.

 

Sam

What difference would it make to you, if I did?

Rose

Don’t talk like that, Sam! You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.

[She puts her hand on his.]

Sam

I can’t think of anything but you.

Rose

There’s something I want to ask your advice about, Sam. It’s about what I started to tell you about, last night. A man I know wants to put me on the stage.

Sam

[Releasing her hand and drawing back]: What man?

Rose

A man that works in the office. He knows a manager and he says he’ll help me get started. You see, what I thought was, that if I could only get out of here and have a decent place to live and make a lot of money, maybe everything would be different, not only for me, but for ma and pop and Willie.

 

Sam

But don’t you know what he wants, this man?

Rose

Nobody gives you anything for nothing, Sam. If you don’t pay for things in one way, you do in another.

Sam

Rose, for God’s sake, you mustn’t!

[Vincent Jones comes out of the house.]

Rose

[Seeing Vincent in the vestibule]: Look out, Sam, here’s that tough, from upstairs.

[She goes over to the left of the stoop.]

Vincent

[In the doorway]: Hello, Rosie. Been here, all night, talkin’ to the little yit?

[Rose does not answer.]

Vincent

[Turning to Sam]: Hello, motzers! Shake!

[He leans over the balustrade and seizes Sam’s hand, in a crushing grip.]

Sam

[Writhing with pain]: Let me go!

 

Rose

Let him alone!

[Vincent gives Sam’s hand another vicious squeeze and then releases him. Sam cowers back in the window, nursing his hand.]

Vincent

[Waving his hand about in mock pain]: Jesus, what a grip dat little kike’s got! I’d hate to get into a mix-up wit’ him. [To Rose]: Got a date for to-night, kid?

Rose

Yes, I have.

Vincent

Yeah? Gee, ain’t dat too bad. I’ll give you two dollars, if you let me snap your garter.

Rose

Shut up, you!

[Vincent laughs. Sam makes an inarticulate sound.]

Vincent

[Threateningly]: Whadja say? I t’ought I hoid you say sumpin.

[He makes a threatening gesture. Sam shrinks back.]

 

Vincent

[With a loud laugh, as he goes down the steps]: Fightin’ Kaplan, de pride o’ Jerusalem! [He looks at them both, then laughs again.] Fer cryin’ out loud!

[He goes off at the left.]

Rose

Oh, if there was only some way of getting out of here! [Sam puts the back of his hand to his forehead and turns away.] I sometimes think I’d just like to run away.

Sam

[Without turning]: Yes!

Rose

Anywhere—it wouldn’t matter where—just to get out of this.

Sam

[Turning]: Why shouldn’t we do it?

Rose

[Rather startled coming over to the right balustrade]: Would you go with me, Sam?

Sam

Yes—anywhere.

 

Rose

I’ve heard that people are much nicer and friendlier, when you get outside of New York. There’s not so much of a mad rush, other places. And being alone, you could sort of work things out for yourself. [Suddenly]: Only, what would you do, Sam?

Sam

I could get a job, too.

Rose

And give up your law-work?

Sam

I’d give up everything, to be with you.

Rose

No. I wouldn’t let you do that, Sam. It’s different with me—

[Easter appears at the right.]

Easter

[Stopping at the right of the stoop]: Good morning, Miss Maurrant.

[Startled, Rose turns and sees him, for the first time.]

Rose

[None too pleased]: Oh, good morning, Mr. Easter. What brings you in this neighborhood?

 

Easter

[Not very plausibly]: Well, I just happened to have a little business, right around the corner. So, I thought as long as you were going to the funeral, we might just as well go together.

Rose

Well, I hardly expected to see you around here. [An awkward pause.] Oh, I’d like you to meet my friend, Mr. Kaplan.

Easter

How do you do, Mr. Kaplan? Glad to know you.

[Sam murmurs something inaudible. An awkward silence.]

Rose

[To Sam]: Mr. Easter is the manager of the office.

[Sam does not reply. Another silence.]

Rose

[To Easter]: It’s awful hot again, isn’t it?

Easter

Worse than yesterday. [Approaching the stoop]: Tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking, that after the funeral, we might take a run down to the beach, somewhere, and cool off a little.

 

Rose

I can’t today. I’ve got a lot of things I want to do.

Easter

Oh, you can do ’em some other day.

Rose

No, really, I can’t. [Looking at her watch]: Well, I guess it’s time we got started.

[She comes down the steps.]

Easter

Yes, it is. We’ll pick up a cab at the corner.

[Mrs. Maurrant appears at her window, looks out, and sees Rose and Easter.]

Rose

Why, I thought Id walk. It’s not far.

Easter

Too hot, today, for any walking.

Rose

[Starting to go towards the left]: Not if you keep in the shade.

Easter

Much more comfortable taking a cab.

 

Rose

I’d rather walk.

Easter

Well, whatever you say. Good morning, Mr. Kaplan. Glad to have met you.

[Sam murmurs an inaudible reply.]

Rose

Good-bye, Sam. I’ll see you, later.

[Sam does not answer. Rose and Easter go towards the left, in silence. Sam watches them, intently, trembling with jealousy. Mrs. Maurrant, surprised and disturbed, watches Rose and Easter.]

Rose

[To Easter, as they disappear]: It’s a lucky thing my father wasn’t around.

[Sam suddenly turns and goes into the house. Mrs. Maurrant remains at the window, looking out, with obvious expectancy.]

A Distant Voice

[Offstage left]: Straw-berries! Straw-berries!

[An anemic girl of eighteen, with a music-roll under her arm, appears at the left. She enters the house and pushes one of the buttons, in the vestibule, then goes to the entrance-door and waits. A moment later, Mrs. Fiorentino appears hastily, at the window, and whisks away the bed-clothes. After another moment, the latch clicks and the girl enters the house.]

The Voice

[A little nearer]: Oh-h! Straw-berries! Straw-berries!

[Sankey appears at the right. He carries a pencil behind his ear, wears a round cap with a metal-name-plate and a stiff visor, and carries a large black-covered bill-holder. He and Mrs. Maurrant see each other and both become tense with excitement. Mrs. Maurrant beckons to him and he comes over to the railing, under her window.]

Mrs. Maurrant

[In a low, tense voice]: Come up.

Sankey

[Looking about, nervously]: Now?

Mrs. Maurrant

Yes. I got to talk to you.

Sankey

Is it all right?

 

Mrs. Maurrant

Yes. He’s gone to Stamford.

Sankey

How about later?

Mrs. Maurrant

No. Rose’ll be home in a hour. She’s not working to-day.

Sankey

All right.

[He looks about again, then goes quickly towards the steps. Sam appears, at the entrance-door. He is about to step out, when he sees Sankey. He stops and looks at him. Sankey sees Sam, hesitates a moment, then goes quickly into the house. Meanwhile, Mrs. Maurrant has closed both windows and pulled down the shades. Sam takes a periodical out of the mail-box, then comes out of the house and down the steps. He looks up at the Maurrant windows, sees the drawn shades, and looks about, in perturbed perplexity, not knowing what to do. At length, he sits down on the steps of the stoop, tears the wrapper off the periodical—The Nation—and begins to read. The girl in Lippo’s apartment begins playing the piano. This continues throughout the scene. Two untidy and rather coarse-looking men appear, at the left and approach the stoop: James Henry, a city-marshal, and Fred Cullen, his assistant. They stop in front of the house. Sam pays no attention to them.]

The Marshal

[Crossing to the left of the stoop, and taking a paper from his pocket]: Dis is it. [To Sam]: Hildebrand live here?

Sam

[Startled]: What?

The Marshal

I’m askin’ you if Hildebrand lives here.

Sam

Yes. Fourth floor.

The Marshal

Better give de janitor a buzz, Fred.

[Fred goes up the steps and rings the janitor’s bell, then leans over the left balustrade.]

Fred

[Bawling]: Hey, janitor.

Olsen

[Below]: Vell?

 

Fred

Come on out, a minute. [As Olsen appears below]: We got a warrant for Hildebrand.

Olsen

Fourt’ floor—Hildebrand.

Fred

Yeah, I know. We got a warrant for her.

The Marshal

I’m City Marshal Henry. We got a dispossess warrant.

Olsen

[Coming up the steps]: Oh, sure. You gonna put ’em out?

The Marshal

Yeah, dat’s it. Has she got anybody to take de foinicher away?

Olsen

[With a shrug]: I don’ know.

The Marshal

Well, we’ll have t’ dump it on de side-walk, den. Go ahead, Fred.

[They enter the house. Olsen leans his elbows on the coping, and smokes his pipe. Sam sits on the steps, deep in troubled thought. A grocery boy, with a full basket, appears at the right, and goes down the cellar-steps. Mae Jones comes out of the house. She stands on the top step, yawns noisily, and goes off, at left. She and Sam do not pay the slightest attention to each other.]

A Voice

[A little nearer]: Straw-berries! Straw-berries!

[Mrs. Olsen comes up the cellar-steps, with a heavy pail of water. Olsen leans forward to make room for her. She staggers over to the stoop, almost dropping the pail, and goes up the steps, into the vestibule. Olsen yawns and goes down into the cellar. Mrs. Jones appears, at the window, her hair wet and stringy, a towel pinned about her shoulders, and leans out to dry her hair.]

An Old-Clothes Man

[Appearing at left]: I kesh ko! I kesh ko!

[He wears a battered derby and carries a folded newspaper under his arm. Mrs. Olsen, on her knees, begins washing up the vestibule. Fred comes out of the house, carrying a worn chair and a large gilt-framed picture, which he deposits on the side-walk, against the railing, to the left of the stoop.]

 

An Old-Clothes Man

[As if to someone across the street]: Kesh ko? [To Sam]: Any old klose, mister?

[Sam pays no attention to him.]

[Fred re-enters the house.]

The Old-Clothes Man

[To Mrs. Jones]: Any ol’ klose, leddy?

Mrs. Jones

Naw, nawthin’.

The Old-Clothes Man

Hets? Shoes? Ol’ stockings?

Mrs. Jones

Nawthin’, I tell you.

[As the Old Clothes Man goes off, at the right, Maurrant appears, still carrying his satchel.]

Mrs. Jones

Why, hello, Mr. Maurrant. [Maurrant looks up without replying and comes over to the stoop.] I thought you was off to Stamford.

Maurrant

I changed me—

[He stops, to the right of the stoop, and looks up at the drawn shades of his apartment. Sam rises, slowly and rigidly, his eyes glued in fascination, upon Maurrant. Maurrant’s movements take on a lithe and cat-like quality. Then, slowly and deliberately, he goes towards the steps, his back arched, like a tiger ready to spring.]

Sam

[Suddenly blocking the steps]: No! No! For God’s sake—!

Maurrant

[Raging]: Out o’ me way, you goddam little rat!

[He flings Sam violently aside, almost knocking him down. Mrs. Olsen, terrified, rises and shrinks into a corner, as Maurrant with swift stealthiness, enters the house. Mrs. Jones leans out, to see what is wrong. Sam rushes down the steps and stands under the Maurrant windows. The Marshal comes out of the house, carrying a wash-boiler, filled with pots.]

Sam

[Hysterically]: Mrs. Maurrant! Mrs. Maurrant!

Mrs. Jones

What’s the matter?

[The Marshal puts the wash-boiler on the balustrade and looks on, in amazement.]

 

Sam

[To Mrs. Jones]: Quick! Run and tell her! Quick!

Mrs. Jones

What is it? [Suddenly]: Oh, Gawd, is he in there?

[She leaves the window, hastily.]

Sam

Yes! Mrs. Maurrant! Mrs. Maurrant!

[A scream of terror is heard, from the Maurrant apartment.]

Mrs. Maurrant’s Voice

Frank! Frank!

[Two shots are heard, in quick succession, and then a heavy fall. Mrs. Olsen runs out of the vestibule and down into the cellar. Sankey’s voice is heard, inarticulate with fear. Then, one of the shades shoots up, and Sankey appears at the window, coatless, his face deformed by terror. He tries to open the window, but succeeds only in shattering the pane with his elbow. Maurrant appears behind him and pulls him away from the window. Then another shot is heard.]

The Marshal

For Chris’ sake, what’s happenin’? Get an ambulance, you!

[He pushes Sam towards the left, then hurries off, at the right. As Sam runs off, a crowd begins to form. Olsen comes up from the cellar, followed by the Grocery-Boy. The two workmen come up, out of the excavation.]

[Two or three of the workmen from the demolished building, run on at the right.]

A Workman

What’s happening?

A Man

What is it? A murder?

[Still others join the crowd: A huckster, a janitor from a neighboring house, a mulatto girl, six or eight women of the neighborhood, some in street-dresses, others in house-dresses or dingy wrappers. Lippo’s pupil appears, at the window, badly frightened. The crowd surges about, uncertainly, not knowing what has happened, and buzzing with questions, which nobody can answer. While the crowd is still forming, Fred, the Marshal’s assistant, appears at the broken window.]

Fred

[Excitedly]: Grab dat boid! He’s comin’ down!

A Workman

What boid?

 

A Man

Here he is, now!

[The crowd murmurs with excitement and surges about the stoop, as the house-door opens and Maurrant appears. His coat is open and his shirt is torn almost to shreds. His face, hands and clothing are covered with blood. He stands, in the door-way, for a moment, surveying the crowd, his eyes glaring.]

Fred

Grab him! Don’t let him get away!

[As the crowd makes a concerted movement towards Maurrant, he whips out an automatic revolver and levels it. The crowd shrinks back. Some of the women scream.]

Maurrant

Git back! Git back, all o’ you!

[The crowd falls back towards the left, to make way for him. With his back to the balustrade, he comes quickly down the steps, and still leveling his revolver at the crowd, retreats backwards to the cellar steps. A man, approaching at the right, comes stealthily up behind him, but Maurrant senses his presence in time, wheels quickly, menaces the man with his revolver, then rushes down the cellar steps. While all this is happening, the other shade in the Maurrant apartment flies up and Miss Cushing opens the window and leans out.]

Miss Cushing

Hurry up! Get an ambulance!

[No one pays any attention to her, as they are all watching Maurrant. As Maurrant runs down the cellar steps, the crowd surges forward to the railing, on both sides of the stoop and leans over. A scream from Mrs. Olsen is heard from the basement. Fred goes away from the window.]

Miss Cushing

Get an ambulance, somebody!

[Unable to attract anyone’s attention, she leaves the window.

Olsen

Olga!

[He hurries down the cellar steps.]

A Man

[Calling] Here’s a cop! [The crowd looks to the right.] Hey! Hurry up!

[A Policeman runs on from the right.]

The Policeman

Where is he?

 

Voices in the Crowd

He’s down the cellar! He ran down the cellar! He went down the steps!

The Policeman

Get out of the way!

[The Policeman and two men in the crowd go down the cellar steps.]

Voices in the Crowd

Watch yourself! Look out, he’s got a gun! He’s a big guy with his shirt torn!

[The rest of the crowd peers over the railing.]

Miss Cushing

[Leaning out of Rose’s window]: Hey, don’t you hear me? Get an ambulance!

Another Man

[Looking up]: What’s de matter? You want de ambulance?

Miss Cushing

Yes! Right away!

Another Man

[To the Grocery-Boy]: Run aroun’ de corner to de horspital, Johnny, an’ tell ’em to send de ambulance!

 

The Grocery-Boy

Sure!

Miss Cushing

Run!

[The Grocery Boy runs off swiftly at the left. Miss Cushing leaves the window. Meanwhile, as the Policeman and the Two Men have gone down the cellar steps, the Marshal has run on, from the right, panting.]

The Marshal

[As the Grocery-Boy runs off]: Did dey git ’m?

A Man

He beat it down de cellar.

A Workman.

De cop’s gone after him.

The Marshal

Why de hell didn’ you stop ’im?

[Fred comes out of the house.]

A Workman.

He had a gun.

Fred

Did somebody go for de ambulance?

 

A Man

Yeah. De kid went.

A Woman

It’s only aroun’ de corner.

Another Man

Dey’ll be here, right away.

[The crowd moves over towards Fred.]

The Marshall

[Pushing his way through the crowd and up the steps]: What de hell happened, Fred?

Fred

[As the crowd moves toward the stoop]: It’s a moider. Dis boid’s wife an’ some other guy. Jesus, you oughta see de blood.

[Another Policeman runs up, at the left, closely followed by Sam.]

Fred

Upstairs, officer! Dere’s two of ’em got shot.

The Policeman

[Elbowing his way through the crowd]: Look out o’ de way, youse! [He goes up the stoop and crosses to the door.] Where’s de guy dat did it?

 

Voices in the Crowd

Down de cellar! He beat it down de steps!

Fred

Dere’s another cop after ’im. You better look after dem, upstairs. Foist floor.

Sam

[Agonized]: Are they dead?

[No one pays any attention to him.]

The Marshal

[Stopping the Policeman, and exhibiting his badge]: I’m City Marshal Henry. Kin I do anythin’?

Policeman

Don’ let anybody in or out! Hear?

The Marshal

Yeah, sure!

[The Policeman exits quickly, into the house.]

Sam

Are they dead?

[No one notices him. The Marshal takes up his position in the doorway.]

Buchanan

[Appearing at the Maurrant window]: Where’s the ambulance?

 

The Marshal

It’ll be here, right away. Dere’s a cop on his way up.

Sam

Mr. Buchanan! Mr. Buchanan! Are they dead?

[But Buchanan has already disappeared. The Two Men, who followed the first Policeman into the cellar, now come up the steps. The crowd moves over to the railing, at the right.]

The Marshal

Did you get him, boys?

One of the Men

He must be hidin’, somewheres. De cop’s lookin’ for ’im.

Another Man

Somebody better call de resoives.

[Sam runs up the steps and tries to enter the house.]

The Marshal

[Seizing him roughly]: You can’t get in now! Get back dere!

[He pushes Sam back into the crowd, at the foot of the steps.]

The Policeman

[Appearing at the Maurrant window]: Hey, call up headquarters an’ tell ’em to send the resoives. Make it quick!

[He goes away from the window.]

The Marshal

You go, Fred.

Fred

Sure!

A Man

Dere’s a phone in de warehouse.

[An ambulance bell is heard at the left, as Fred goes quickly towards the left. Another spectator hurries on and joins the crowd.]

Voices in the Crowd

Dere it is! Dere’s de ambulance now! Here dey come!

[The Crowd moves over towards the left.]

A Man

Dey won’t be able to git past.

The Policeman

[Reappearing at the window]: Is dat de ambulance?

The Marshal

Yeah.

[Buchanan and Mrs. Jones crowd to the window, behind the Policeman, and, at the other window, Lippo, Miss Cushing and Mrs. Hildebrand appear. A hospital interne and an ambulance-driver come on at the left.]

The Policeman

Hurry up, Doc! She’s still breathin’.

The Interne

[Forcing his way through the crowd]: All right! Better bring the stretcher, Harry.

The Ambulance-Driver

Yes, sir.

[He hurries off, at the left. The Interne goes quickly into the house. The crowd attempts to follow, several of its members going up the steps.]

The Marshal

[Pushing them back]: Keep back, now! Back off de stoop, everybody!

[The crowd forms a compact mass, about the foot of the steps. The persons at the Maurrant windows have disappeared. Fred hurries on, at the left.]

Fred

[Pushing his way through the crowd and up the steps]: I got ’em. Dey’ll be right up. Anudder cop jes’ wen’ in t’roo de warehouse cellar.

 

The Marshal

Dey’ll git ’im all right. [Looking at his watch]: Better git busy wit’ dat foinicher, Fred. We got two udder jobs today.

Fred

Yeah, sure, Jimmy.

[He enters the house. The Ambulance-Driver appears at the left, carrying a canvas stretcher.]

The Ambulance-Driver

Get out o’ the way!

The Marshal

Git back, can’t youse? What de hell’s de matter wit’ youse?

[He comes down the steps and violently pushes the crowd back. The Ambulance-Driver enters the house.]

The Policeman

[At the window]: Are dey bringin’ dat stretcher?

The Marshal

On de way up! [To the crowd]: Keep back!

[The Policeman leaves the window.]

[Lippo’s Pupil, her music-roll under her arm, appears timidly in the doorway.]

 

The Marshal

[Grabbing her arm roughly]: Where you goin’?

The Girl

[Nervously]: I’m going home.

The Marshal

Home? Where do you live?

The Girl

Ninety-first Street.

The Marshal

What are you doin’ here?

The Girl

I just came for a music-lesson, that’s all.

The Marshal

Yeah? Well, you can’t go now.

The Girl

[Beginning to whimper]: I want to go home.

The Marshal

You can’t go, now. Nobody can’t leave de house, now.

The Policeman

[Coming out of the house]: Who’s dis kid?

 

The Marshal

Says she come here to take a music-lesson an’ she wants to go home.

The Policeman

[To the girl]: Do you know anythin’ about this killin’?

The Girl

No, I don’t. I just heard some shooting, that’s all. My mother will be worried, if I don’t come home.

The Policeman

Well, you can’t go, now. Get inside dere, out o’ de way. Dey’ll be bringin’ her down, in a minute.

[He pushes the girl inside the house and comes down the steps.]

The Policeman

Come on, git back from dem steps! Back now, all o’ youse!

[He and the Marshal push the crowd back to the right of the stoop, leaving the steps and the sidewalk in front of them clear. Then he goes up the steps again.]

The Marshal

What did he do? Shoot two of ’em?

 

The Policeman

I’ll say he did! His wife an’ her sweetie. A guy named Sankey. He was dead when I got up dere.

The Marshal

I seen him tryin’ to climb out t’roo de winder. An’ dis guy grabs ’im an’ pulls ’im back.

The Interne

[From the Maurrant window]: Officer! Come on up!

[He leaves the window, as the Policeman exits into the house. Suddenly, Sam utters an exclamation of anguish and, pushing his way out of the crowd, hurries over to the left.]

The Marshal

Hey, you! Where you goin’?

[Sam ignores him and hurries on.]

A Woman

Look! There’s the Maurrant girl!

Another Woman

Who?

A Woman

It’s her daughter.

[The crowd murmurs, excitedly, as Rose comes on quickly, at the left.]

 

Rose

What’s the matter, Sam? What’s the ambulance for? Did anybody get hurt?

Sam

Go away, Rose. Go away.

Rose

Who is it, Sam? What’s the matter? Is it my mother? It’s not my mother, is it? [Clinging to him]: Sam, is it?

Sam

There’s been an accident. Go away, Rose.

[He tries to force her away.]

Rose

Tell me what’s happened! Tell me!

Miss Cushing

[Appearing at the window]: They’re bringing her down!

Rose

[With a cry]: It is my mother!

Miss Cushing

[Seeing her]: Oh, my God, there’s Rose!

[Mrs. Fiorentino, Mrs, Jones, Mrs. Hildebrand, Lippo and Buchanan crowd to the Maurrant windows.]

Sam

Rose! Go away!

[She pays no attention to him, but stands watching the door, transfixed. The Interne comes briskly out of the house.]

The Interne

[To the Marshal]: Hold the door open, will you?

[He comes down the steps.]

The Marshal

Sure, doc!

[He hurries into the vestibule.]

The Interne

[To the crowd]: Keep back, now!

Rose

[Seizing the Interne’s arm]: Doctor! Is she dead?

The Interne

Who are you? Her daughter?

Rose

Yes, sir. I’m her daughter.

The Interne

She’s pretty badly hurt. Step aside, now!

[They step aside, as the Ambulance-Driver and the Policeman come out of the house, carrying Mrs. Maurrant on the stretcher. There is a low murmur from the crowd.]

The Ambulance-Driver

Easy, now.

The Policeman

All right.

[They come down the steps and go towards the left.]

Rose

[Running forward and gripping the side of the stretcher]: Mother! Mother!

Mrs. Maurrant

[Opening her eyes, feebly]: Rose!

[She tries to lift her hand, but it falls back.]

The Interne

[Pulling Rose back]: You mustn’t talk to her, now.

[Sam takes her about the shoulders. They and the Interne follow the stretcher off, at the left.]

[The crowd swarms after them. Fred comes out of the house, carrying one end of an iron bedstead.]

[Curtain]