How’s your cattle lookin’ lately, Hiram?
HIRAM
Fine, by golly, I never seen ’em grow so fast. I get ’em on that new
field of bromus grass. They’ll be in mighty fine shape to fatten this
fall.
_Enters Leslie Larsen in band suit, carrying horn._
LESLIE
Everybody seems to be happy.
HARRY
Hello Leslie, going to play at the game this afternoon? We’re going to
beat ’em.
LESLIE
We’ll be right there, but I’m not so sure about the beating part since
that game this morning.
JENNIE
Had your dinner, Leslie?
LESLIE
Yes, we’ve been through half an hour. I was just going to the bowry.
We’re going to have a little concert before the speaking.
HIRAM
Who’s the speaker to-day?
LESLIE
Senator McDonald. I saw him coming this way before I started. I met him
this morning. Seems like a fine fellow.
HIRAM
John, why don’t yer give ’em a talk on how to be happy in the city?
_Senator walks across rear of stage without noticing anyone. Leslie calls
him._
LESLIE
Mr. McDonald, come here a moment.
MR. MCDONALD
Why hello, Mr. Larsen!
LESLIE
Mr. McDonald, this is the Benson family—one of our prominent farmers in
this community.
MR. MCDONALD
People, I’m very glad to meet you. It does my heart good to get out and
meet the tillers of the soil. I always consider it a great honor to have
such a privilege as a day like this. I was out walking to get some fresh
air before my talk.
HIRAM
No place like the country for fresh air, ain’t that right Senator?
MR. MCDONALD
You’re right. Hope you fellows will be at the speaking. I always like a
large crowd.
MR. BENSON
You can count on our being there.
MR. MCDONALD
Good! bring all your friends. I’ll be walking on. Good-by.
_Exit._
JENNIE
If everyone has had enough, we’ll spread the tablecloth over the
table—we’ve got to eat supper here before we leave.
_Women arrange table._
LESLIE
Well, I’ll have to be going or I’ll be late.
HARRY
Guess I’ll walk up with you. I guess the women will come together.
_Exeunt._
MR. BENSON
Hiram, you ought to order you a running water system and an electric
light plant for your farm. They’ve got ’em down now so ye can’t afford to
be without ’em.
HIRAM
John, are ye havin’ a nightmare about the city?
MR. BENSON
By jinks, I’m speakin’ my right mind. We just sent in an order for an
electric light plant. Harry says we can get a motor so small we can carry
it around under our arms and can attach it to the wire any place and run
our fan mills, pumps, grinders, washin’ machines, in fact everything
dependin’ on the size of the motor. In the house you can take off a light
bulb and attach a “lectric” iron and cooker, make it do the churnin’ and
sweepin’, run the sewin’ machine, and even rock the cradle, besides
havin’ light all over yer buildin’s without any danger of fire.
HIRAM
Wall, I’ll be goll durned. John, are ye sure ye haven’t been drinkin’ too
much lemonade?
MR. BENSON
It’s right. In the spring we’re goin’ ter git a runnin’ water system made
especially for the farm. Harry has had it all planned for over a year now.
HIRAM
Wall, if that don’t beat the cat’s a fightin’. I knew that boy had the
stuff in him when he planned that house for you and Mary.
JENNIE
If you folks are going, you had better be coming along.
MR. BENSON
_Looking at watch._
By jinks, it is time we were going.
ETHEL
I’ll be there as soon as I find my fan.
_Exeunt all but Ethel. Enters Clarence unobserved. Ethel looks through
box and around for fan._
Well, I’m sure I brought that fan along, I couldn’t think of losing it,
for it’s one Clarence gave me before he went away to school and before we
moved to the city. Well, that’s funny—I know I couldn’t have lost it on
the way, and we—
CLARENCE
You don’t need a fan in this cool place.
ETHEL
Clarence! You here?
_Rises and takes him by the hand._
CLARENCE
Yes, I graduated last week—came home to settle down and do something.
One feels mighty ambitious after going through college and wants to get
right out and begin applying his knowledge and getting the practical
experience. But you? I thought you were in the city. Out for a visit, I
suppose?
ETHEL
Visit! Why, the folks have moved back on the farm. Being the baby, I
naturally had to come too. Of course, I hated to leave.
CLARENCE
I’m mighty glad to know your folks have moved back on the farm. Now that
it won’t be necessary for you to look after them so closely, I suppose
you will soon be moving back and start your practical applications, there.
ETHEL
Oh, maybe—things are mighty handy, you know.
CLARENCE
Lots of fine fellows there, too, I suppose?
ETHEL
Lots of them. The girls are scarce, too. Tell me about your college days.
Suppose you graduated with high honors?
CLARENCE
Oh, no, no! Not many anyway. There was a lot—
_Enters Hiram, stops and listens._
of things I wanted to get at the bottom of; so many things I was in doubt
about. I was too busy to think of honors. I went in to prepare myself for
higher honors to be won later in life and that shall be remembered and
enjoyed by those that follow after me when I’m gone.
HIRAM
That’s right, my boy. It ain’t so much what you do in school as it
is what ye get, and you do after ye get out. That’s the time to do
something. Look at Lincoln—he hardly seen the inside of a schoolhouse,
but he studied and got something then went and done somethin’. He came
from the farm, too. Pardon me, children, I left my pipe layin’ there by
this tree when I set down ter dinner. (_Takes pipe and lights, taking
long, loud draws._) I’ll be leavin’, I know young folks like to be alone.
_Exit._
CLARENCE
I guess he didn’t recognize me. Have I changed much, Ethel?
ETHEL
A little more mature in looks is all.
CLARENCE
Tell me about your life in the city, Ethel.
ETHEL
I haven’t much to tell—we had a fine house and servants, but the folks
were out of place and didn’t feel at home. You see they had lived in the
country too long to get any comfort out of the city life—there isn’t
anything that seemed real to them. Mother didn’t like to let on for she
was the strongest advocate of going, and you couldn’t blame her when she
thought of all the conveniences in the city. But even at that she had
lived in the country too long to get any enjoyment out of the city. As
for me, I’m young and can soon adapt myself to the new conditions in the
city. Can’t you imagine what a good city belle I would make?
CLARENCE
Ethel, you have been the best friend I ever had outside of mother and
father and they’re both gone. The reason I went away to school was the
thought that I might some day be worthy and capable of making a home
for you equal to the best found anywhere. I realize that the majority
of farmers buy conveniences for themselves without realizing the
conveniences their wives need in the house, so they have to go on in the
same way their grandmothers did. Ethel, you remember that last letter you
wrote me, three years ago, I believe?
ETHEL
Yes, and you never answered it.
CLARENCE
No. When you went away to the city you were young and I did not dare ask
you to wait for me. Besides I thought it would be useless for you were
thinking that when the time came you would marry a city fellow who could
offer you a home without the drudgery some women have on the farm. In
that last letter, you were telling me about a certain rich man. Well, I
knew your youthful dream had come true. I didn’t want to stand in your
way. I knew you were old enough to know what you wanted, so I didn’t
write. Ethel, I almost gave up then, and I don’t know but what I would
had it not been for my roommate, noble old chap. He got me started right
again. Ethel, I hope you will be happy in the city.
_Rises and crosses stage._
ETHEL
I did write about a certain young man, but—
CLARENCE
But what?
ETHEL
I didn’t think you would take it so seriously.
CLARENCE
You mean to say—
ETHEL
That I was only teasing you about the city.
CLARENCE
Then you’re not—
_Takes her hand._
ETHEL
Not if I can help it. How about that home you were dreaming about?
CLARENCE
It’s yours, Ethel, and it’s going to be the very best (_embrace_).
_Embrace. Enter Hiram and Mr. Benson. Stop short on seeing Ethel and
Clarence in each other’s arms._
MR. BENSON
_Harshly._
Ethel!
_Ethel and Clarence separate embarrassed._
CLARENCE
_Going up and taking Mr. Benson by the hand._
Mr. Benson, I know this is no way to be caught with your daughter, but
since it couldn’t be helped I suppose the only way to get around it will
be for you to give your consent to marry her.
MR. BENSON
Are you going to live on the farm?
CLARENCE
Would you advise me to?
MR. BENSON
By jinks, you can’t have her unless you do.
_Clarence crosses and puts arm around Ethel._
HIRAM
By golly, it does me good to see the cream of the country come pourin’
back again. Don’t you know some of our greatest men like Lincoln and
Washington, come from the farm? They’d all like to have gotten back
again but they were so tied up in the world they couldn’t break loose.
The cities are all right in a way, and I suppose we couldn’t get along
without them now, but, by golly, there would never have been a city if it
hadn’t been for the country. Why, I can remember when all the young men
that wanted to do something worth while went to the cities and left the
very poorest fellows at home. And the old fellows when they got enough
money they moved ter the city and spent their money there. By golly,
that’s right, ain’t it, John?
MR. BENSON
I guess you’re right, Hiram.
HIRAM
Of course, I’m right. By golly, it sure does me good ter see the change
coming where the best people of the country stay on the farm instead of
movin’ ter the city where they’re just as much out of place as “A Bee in
a Drone’s Hive.”
Author of play—Cecil Baker.
CURTAIN.
LARIMORE
Somebody once said a pageant was a big outdoor play in which people in
everyday walks of life—John and Joe and Susan—take an active part and
tell the story of what happened in the neighborhood, county, or state in
their own manner. It is something that might be called a human festival,
because the people young and old and even “the animals, the oxen and the
horse, the donkey and the dog” all take part.
This particular kind of a play was especially well portrayed in “The
Story of Grand Forks County,” a historical pageant in five episodes,
which was presented in the little town of Larimore on June second,
nineteen hundred and twenty. Thirty different communities, working in
coöperation and under the direction of a central committee, selected
the material, dramatized the events, and acted the parts. One thousand
persons, ranging in age from a seven-months-old baby to a white-haired
man of sixty-five were the players. Schools, churches, clubs, bands,
choruses, and various other social agencies contributed their enthusiasm
and energies in making the spectacle a success. Ten thousand people saw
the production. Eleven hundred automobiles were parked on the grounds,
and this did not include those standing in rows in the center of
down-town streets.
Larimore, after all, isn’t such a big town, but it is a mighty
interesting place. Its population is made up of people who appreciate
the big things in life. And when a worth-while thing comes along they
put their shoulders to the wheel and—well they make whatever it is go.
They showed their mettle when they built the stage for the pageant in a
corner of their newly laid-out park. For several days, sometimes in the
morning as early as five o’clock, the men in the community were up and
at work. They used ice tongs to carry the four hundred bridge planks,
which, by the way, were eighteen feet long, twelve inches wide, and
four inches thick. They borrowed these from the county commissioners and
constructed a huge platform seventy-two feet in width and thirty-six feet
in depth. The background was one hundred and fifty-six feet long and
twenty feet in height. There were two wings, fourteen and sixteen feet
high respectively, on each side. All of these were covered with branches
of trees cut and hauled on hayracks from a nearby brook. In the center
of the background rows of seats were built in the shape of a tree which
held a chorus of two hundred girls, robed in pure white. They came from
different sections of the county and sang during the interludes. The
seats were arranged in amphitheater style. At each corner a band was
stationed. Tents pitched back of the stage were used for dressing rooms.
The stage manager happened to be a local auto taxi owner.
June second was an ideal day. At two o’clock in the afternoon the buglers
announced the opening of “The Story of Grand Forks County,” a historical
pageant in five episodes. Then came the procession of the bands and a
chorus. The prologue or story of the play followed. It was written by
one schoolmaster and given by another. It is well worth quoting, for it
not only shows a fine poetic temperament but tells the history of one of
America’s finest agricultural counties.
“Friends, we have gathered here beneath the vaulted sky,
In God’s great out-of-doors, where nature greets the eye,
With grass and trees and flowers—we’ve gathered here to stage
The story of our County down to the present age.
In song and dance and tableau its history will be told;
In interludes and episodes our pageant will unfold.
We journey back in fancy a span of fifty years,
Back to the days of Indians and hardy pioneers.
Here waves a sea of prairie grass upon the endless plain;
Here lies a pile of whitening bones that mark the bison’s reign.
Within a fringe of forest green that skirts a river’s flow,
The Indians are breaking camp—’tis time for them to go.
‘The white man comes,’ the scouts report, ‘our hunting here is done,
The white man comes and we must go, on towards the setting sun.’
“As night comes on and in the west the sun sets for the day,
Full slowly up the valley an ox-team weaves its way.
It draws a covered wagon. On the driver’s seat a man,
His head turned back, is speaking to a woman in the van;
‘Look, Mary, there’s a likely spot in yonder grove of trees,
There’s water, fuel, fish, and game; the grass comes to my knees;
The land is fertile, level, smooth—what need to farther roam?
Come let us halt in this fair place and build ourselves a home.’
Thus did they come, our pioneers, brave husband, braver wife,
Heroic souls that sang and worked and asked no odds of life.
So friends, to-day, the picture that first will meet our sight,
Is the leaving of the red man and the coming of the white.
The world is restless, craves to move, and therefore mankind feels
A deep abiding gratitude to the man who first made wheels.
The great improvements made in wheels, the constant evolution
From wagon down to motor car has caused a revolution,
Affecting every phase of life, our business and our pleasure,
And proved itself in countless ways a blessing beyond measure.
It was a happy day indeed when on the frontier trails
The pioneers beheld the sight of shining iron rails,
That spelled the end of grueling trips to market by ox-team,
And heralded the coming of their greatest ally—steam.
When now the growth and progress of transportation’s shown,
It will explain one reason why prosperity has grown.
“Year after year more settlers came, each year more fields were tilled,
And lavish Nature blessed their work, their granaries were filled
With golden wheat and other grains; their herds of cattle grew;
They prospered greatly and progressed and those who failed were few.
Then one by one the towns sprang up, with smithy, bank, and store,
With elevator, mill, and yard, and markets at their door.
The towns and farms worked hand in hand, theirs was a common cause.
And from the start unto this day, advancing without pause,
Our industries have grown apace, have made our County great—
Till it is known both far and wide the banner of the State.
“The greatest factor in the growth of county, state, or nation,
No thing is dearer to our hearts than is the common school,
What makes for happiness and peace is public education;
For well we know that it must be if liberty shall rule.
Our fathers when they came built schools, albeit they were rude,
Judged by our standards, poorly taught, ill-disciplined, and crude.
These schools did foster splendid men and noble women too;
And from that small beginning our present system grew.
Our pageant here will show to you how we have forged ahead,
How in the work of betterment our schools have always led.
Yet, we can not be satisfied with that which we have done,
For after all our schools’ advance is only well begun.
“Whence came these men who wrought these deeds? What land did give them
birth?
They came from distant lands and climes, from far across the earth.
The Frenchman came; the Irishman; the German, Scotch, and Norse;
And every mother’s son of them, a man of strength and force,
That threw himself into the work with hands and heart and brain,
That labored for our Country’s weal with all his might and main,
Their children, born beneath our flag and fostered in our schools,
Hold for the land of liberty a love that never cools;
They all are real Americans—Americans through and through
They stand for order, law, and right, for all that’s good and true.
So in this pageant of to-day as episodes unfold
The marvels of our progress; as our wondrous growth is told,
All is centered round the people; ’tis their story we portray,
For the people made the County what the County is to-day.”
G. T. Almen.
After the prologue, the five episodes and interludes were enacted in a
manner highly satisfactory to the ten thousand spectators. Real Indians,
dog and pony travois, an old prairie schooner, a sod shanty, the Red
River ox-cart, the first railroad engine to enter the county, a stage
coach of pioneer days, the cradle, the reaper, the old breaking plow,
the one room school house, the different peoples from foreign countries
who settled in the county, added interest and gave color to the pageant.
The children from the different schools in the county were costumed to
represent the different grains, the prairie roses and the violets, the
strawberries and the potatoes. One set of girls interpreted an original
wind dance. A boys’ band, a business men’s band, a farmers’ band, and a
chorus furnished the music.
The final tableau or scene was a magnificent sight, something that will
never be forgotten. In the center of the forest background on tiers
of raised seats, two hundred girls clad in white were standing. Above
them the Stars and Stripes were floating. Down on the stage, a thousand
players, real country people, were grouped. On the ground and in a circle
ten thousand people were standing. The bands were playing and everybody
was singing “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
One who stood there and looked at it all could not help but think what
tremendous opportunities there are out on these prairies, if only the
people can find their true expression. As a certain person who was very
active in making it a success said, “What shall we say of it? What shall
be the future?” The joy of self-expression is a supreme one. “I was in
it.” “I made a poster.” “We made the violet costumes.” “Our dog hauled
the wigwam”—in fact, “I helped,” these are the words on every lip. Truly
it was a pageant “of the people, by the people, for the people,” with
none too great nor too small to participate.
For everyone it has meant a great lesson in patriotism and coöperation.
For each community in the county it means a refreshing social contact
and an unselfish interest in local affairs. It means the creating of
pure and wholesome pleasure, rather than the purchasing of that which
is often doubtful. It means the discovery of much hidden talent. For
the individual it means greater development of social consciousness, a
broader and deeper appreciation of his brother and friend, a desire not
only to do something for himself but to help someone else. And this is
the real gospel of America to-day, the flower of service, which with
the aid of stirring imagination will develop into one of everlasting
sweetness and beauty.
Up in Grand Forks County they have a county superintendent with a vision,
one who not only sees but organizes and does the things. The pageant
did what she dreamed it would do. It brought into play all the talent
of the county. The art of the people was expressed through the setting,
the costumes, the posters, and the light effects; the music, through
song and instrument; the organizing power through promotion, seating
arrangement, rehearsal, and presentation; the mechanical genius through
the stage construction; and the literary ability through the gathering,
the arranging, and the writing of the subject matter.
When all these faculties are brought into exercise, they cannot help but
arouse the creative instincts in the mind of the county or the community.
They appeal to the heart instincts. This is one of the pageant’s great
values to society.
FORTY TOWNS
In order to feel the pulse of the people of the state in regard to their
attitude toward plays, as well as to carry the drama to the people, a
road tour of forty towns was made. Twenty-two counties were visited. The
play selected for this trip was “Back to the Farm,” written by Merline
Shumway, a former student at the Minnesota Agricultural College. It is
a three-act rural comedy. The central thought running through the play
is the old way of doing things on the farm versus the new method. It
appeals to all classes of people and especially to those who have tilled
the soil. One farmer said it was the best thing he had ever seen. Another
told his friends that “‘Back to the Farm’ had ‘The Birth of a Nation’
skun a mile.” They were both right, because to them the play came out of
the soil.
A cast of eight characters was taken on the tour. They were given
twenty-five dollars a week and their railroad fares. In the evening
they presented the play and during the day made a brief social survey
of every community visited. For instance, one young man would go to the
livery stable or garage and find out something about the roads in the
surrounding community. Naturally, roads have something to do with people
getting together. Another would measure the size of village halls, the
assembly rooms in schoolhouses, the basements of churches, empty country
stores, and lodge rooms—in fact, any place where people assembled.
Listing musical activities in the town was the duty of one member of the
cast. Still another looked up everything he could find about athletics
in the different places. The various clubs, organizations, and societies
in the town were tabulated by one young man. The three ladies in the
cast ascertained the number of festivals, pageants, home talent plays,
programs, games, folk dances, library facilities, and newspapers. All of
these facts, combined with other data obtained before and since then,
make a splendid social diagnosis of certain phases of country life in
North Dakota. They give one an insight into the activities of country
folks out on a prairie. Many interesting conditions were revealed by the
survey and knowledge gained elsewhere.
As a rule the roads are good. Travel in the late spring, summer, and fall
is comparatively easy. In the winter it is more difficult, just as it
is in any state. In some places the roads are graded ten, fifteen, and
twenty miles out from a center. The prairie or grass road is frequently
used to save time. It is not an uncommon occurrence for parties to drive
twenty and thirty miles to attend a picnic, a play or a social function
of some kind. Even in the winter and early spring the snow and “gumbo” do
not stop them from attending social activities. Automobiles average from
one to three to a section of land. Means of communication are constantly
improving. Inasmuch as the homes in the country in the state are far
apart, due to the present large acreage of the farms, the roads are an
important factor in developing the social life in the country districts.
[Illustration: Folk Dances, Parades, and Pageants Have Become an Integral
Part of the Social Life of the State]