THE UNDERCURRENT
[Illustration: FAY EHLERT]
THE UNDERCURRENT
_A One Act Play_
BY
FAY EHLERT
PREFACE BY
JOHN POLLOCK
[Illustration]
SAMUEL FRENCH
Thos. R. Edwards Managing Director
NEW YORK LOS ANGELES
SAMUEL FRENCH LTD. LONDON
1929
_ALL RIGHTS RESERVED_
Copyright 1928 by The Drama Magazine
First Revision copyright 1929 by Fay Ehlert
International copyright 1929 by Fay Ehlert
_CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that “THE
UNDERCURRENT,” being fully protected under the copyright laws of the
United States of America, the British Empire, including the Dominion of
Canada, and all other countries of the Copyright Union, is subject to a
royalty. All rights, including professional, amateur, motion pictures,
recitation, public reading, radio broadcasting, and the rights of
translation into foreign languages are strictly reserved. In its present
form this play is dedicated to the reading public only. All inquiries,
regarding this play should be addressed to Samuel French, 25 West 45th
Street, New York, N. Y. Available for amateurs in restricted territory
only. Royalty will be quoted for those cities or towns where it may be
presented by amateurs upon application to Samuel French._
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS,
INC., BINGHAMTON, N. Y.
_Dedicated in appreciation_
TO
MORT SINGER
BEN J. PIAZZA
THROUGH WHOM “THE UNDERCURRENT”
FOUND ITS WAY TO THE PROFESSIONAL
STAGE
FOREWORD
“The Undercurrent” is a page from life’s drama. From the very
beginning—in the days when I haunted the Morals Court, the Domestic
Relation Court and the Psychopathic Laboratory, I have always been drawn
to our countless Annies, beaten, swept along, vague about everything in
life—even their destination. And never have I found it in my heart to
blame them for their plight. Sometimes people have said to me: “But Mrs.
Ehlert, you can’t tell me that this girl doesn’t realize she is doing
_wrong_! She knows better than to—” And I have always pleaded: “Please
don’t say a word against her, please don’t! Perhaps, if we were in her
shoes, we might be ten times worse than she! You never can tell by
looking at a person, what undercurrent may be sweeping her along!”
And that is how I came to write this playlet. I took a typical Annie, one
that you can find on any street, and thought: “Now, why is she a little
street walker? What has been the cause? What may be the undercurrent in
_her_ life? What has brought her into the court?”
I didn’t want to preach or teach a lesson. I simply wished to bring _real
life_ before audiences; something vital to make them think; to make them
more sympathetic in their judgments of others, whether they were “Annies”
or “Pa Fishyers.” And the results of my experiment have touched me deeply.
Since our first performance, never have we failed to grip our audiences,
to tug at their heartstrings. And these audiences have come from all
walks of life, from the highest to the lowest; from women’s clubs, social
agencies, churches, charitable organizations, Little Theatres, courts,
banks, stores and factories. Not a week passes but we are conscious of
the effect our playlet is having upon the lives of others. From the
scraggly bouquet of flowers sent over the footlights in Los Angeles with
those laboriously scrawled lines: “From one whats got a husband like
that” to the ring which a well-groomed Brooklyn woman insisted upon
giving me with tears in her eyes, a little silver ring which she had worn
on a black velvet ribbon ever since her granddaughter’s death.
And our audiences have not been the only ones to receive us with
outstretched hands! Coming into a new world, strange and foreign to us,
I don’t know what we should have done had not hundreds of hands reached
out to help us along. And these friendly gestures came from the members
of the Radio-Keith-Orpheum Circuit, from the theatre managers and their
staffs, and from the professional players on the bills with us. I wish
to thank them again and again for the personal interest they took in our
playlet and their unselfish efforts in our behalf.
It would be impossible for me to mention every individual and institution
who graciously helped me launch my playlet on its career, but I would
feel very ungrateful were I not to name: Frank Harris, Theodore B.
Hinckley, John Vandervoort Sloan, C. J. Bulliet, James Gray, Frank
Moneyhun, Fritz Blocki, Katherine Graham, Dr. George Scherger, Mary
A. Blood, Edith S. Lueders, Mrs. John B. Boddie, Alice C. D. Riley,
Ethel Rogers Swift, Bertha E. Burrill, Helen Sanford, C. Russell Small,
May Kronan, Jennie Swanson, Caroline Cooper, the Columbia College of
Expression, the University of Chicago, The Town and Gown Playshop of
Northwestern University, the Evanston Woman’s Club and the Drama League
of Chicago.
As for my untiring cast, their devotion and loyalty to “The Undercurrent”
has become almost a by-word in the theatrical world. What would I have
done without their assistance? My “six starlets”—God bless them!
And finally, I wish to thank those who in a great measure are responsible
for the success of “The Undercurrent,” the press in America and Canada,
and the theatrical publications, The Billboard, Inside Facts, The
National Vaudeville News, Variety, Zit’s, and last but not least Samuel
French, who is publishing “The Undercurrent.”
PREFACE
The one-act play became a theatrical outcast. The waif roamed from
door to door but no one bid the poor thing enter. Since the very
beginning when Voltaire wrote and played short pieces for the Princes of
France—pieces of that nature have encountered innumerable difficulties.
They were always appendages of some sort or other. The going was
particularly hard in America, until vaudeville and the Little Theatre
provided a home for the tabloid play. Then the short dramatic works of
eminent authors came into their own. Such writers as Barrie and Synge
and Dunsany and Zangwell gave as much to the one-act play as they did to
their longer efforts or novels. But the supply did not equal the demand.
Everybody began to write one-act plays and soon they had deteriorated to
the extent that there was no public for them.
The Little Theatre, having outgrown its babyhood, considered short plays
beneath their dignity. Vaudeville discarded them almost entirely. The
waif of the theatre became a wanderer, but just as the wanderer was
about to curl up in some dark corner and expire, “The Undercurrent” put
in an appearance.
For the first time in years, an author had taken the one-act play
seriously, attempted to write a piece of dramatic literature that as
far as technique was concerned and drama was concerned, was as complete
and as much an entirety as the play intended for a full evening’s
entertainment.
“The Undercurrent” was not the work of an established author. Writers of
that ilk had been weaned away from the short play and would have nothing
to do with it. Schools and colleges of course were paying considerable
attention to the one-act play, but as the kindergarten of playwriting.
The very first step in the course and to be abandoned just as the
alphabet and spelling book make way for more advanced studies.
When Mrs. Fay Ehlert announced that the one-act play to her mind deserved
serious consideration, she was laughed at, but Mrs. Ehlert is not the
kind of a woman who may be laughed at with impunity. She not only stuck
to her guns, but determined to prove the accuracy of her marksmanship.
“The Undercurrent” was the result. Writing a short play that treated a
serious thought seriously; one that transposed a slice of actual life to
paper and the stage in an interesting, virile and vital manner, was the
least of her difficulties. Having written such an opus her real troubles
began.
“The Undercurrent” found no ready and waiting “welcome on any mat.” It
went from one door to another, only to find no latch string hanging out.
Mrs. Ehlert was schooled in diplomacy. She is the wife of a Chilean
Consul. Patience therefore was one of her many assets. She waited but
worked as she waited; and finally succeeded in having “The Undercurrent”
entered in the Chicago Little Theatre Tournament of 1928. The rest is a
matter of history. “The Undercurrent” won first award. Seldom, if ever
before, has a one-act play been in such great demand. And this is as
it should be, for certainly not since the short play bowed out of the
dramatic picture, no one has written a better, more interesting, or more
entertaining playlet than this one.
Vaudeville, always quick to take advantage of opportunity, swept down
on “The Undercurrent” like an eagle with the result that the longest
consecutive tour ever arranged for any act went to this one of the
“untouchables.”
Little Theatres and the innumerable societies who produced plays for
social and educational purposes, insisted that they be allowed to present
“The Undercurrent.”
Mrs. Ehlert, both because of her ability as a writer and her belief in
the fact that drama is drama, regardless of its length, has done a big
thing not only for herself but for the theatres in general. She has
rekindled an interest in the short play. She has reestablished a public
for the short play. She has demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt
that even a miscellaneous audience appreciates something really worth
while. She has reopened a road that will undoubtedly be traveled by many
followers.
The one-act play has again come into its own. Because of Mrs. Ehlert
and “The Undercurrent” the serious one-act play will again command the
attention of established writers. There will again be a place for its
presentation, and what is of even greater importance, is the fact that
probably no longer will the one-act play be considered a proving ground
for better things. “The Undercurrent” has turned the tide.
JOHN POLLOCK
“The Undercurrent,” winner of The Drama League Cup at the Chicago Little
Theatre Tournament, May 1928, was presented by the Town and Gown Play
Shop of Northwestern University.
The following is the cast of “The Undercurrent” upon its first
professional appearance at the Palace Theatre, Chicago, June 24th, 1928.
PA FISHYER _C. Russell Small_
MA FISHYER _Harriet Allyn_
ANNIE, their daughter _Gladys Pfeffer_
EMIL, their son _Charles White_
MRS. FLOYD, a neighbor _Helen Sanford_
MISS PAGE, a social worker _Ethel Rogers Swift_
Time: The Present Place: New York City
DESCRIPTION OF CHARACTERS
_PA FISHYER, the janitor of the building, is a man of about fifty. He
speaks in curt, terse sentences, and is continually grumbling under his
breath. He is easily angered and will tolerate no opinion but his own. An
honest man, but one who dominates his family through fear._
_MA FISHYER is a ground-down, care-worn woman of perhaps forty-five years
of age. She moves quickly and bustles around constantly, as though to
hide her nervous fears. She is ever alert to protect her children from
her husband’s harsh and relentless methods._
_EMIL is her childish son. Tall, gawky, docile and unobtrusive, he moves
with a certain machine-like submission. Twenty-five may be his age._
_ANNIE, about seventeen, is her mother’s greatest “worry,” a bit of human
“driftwood.”_
_MRS. FLOYD is a sharp-tongued, meddlesome neighbor_.
_MISS PAGE, capable, sympathetic, and firmly believing that “to
understand all, means to forgive all,” is an investigator for the Morals
Court._
THE UNDERCURRENT
THE UNDERCURRENT
SCENE: _In the basement kitchen which also does duty as living and
dining room in an old-fashioned New York apartment building. An air
of orderliness pervades the room, which is furnished with the meager
belongings of the Fishyer family. Shabby, faded curtains hang limply on
each side of the small iron-barred window to the left of the room. The
galvanized sink is in the back, flanked on the right by the kitchen range
and on the left by an old cupboard. A coat rack has been nailed to the
side of this cupboard. Over the sink is a shelf, holding the alarm clock,
comb and brush and shaving mug. The kitchen table covered with a red
table cloth occupies almost the exact center of the room. Upon the table
are four plates, knives, forks, cups and saucers, half a loaf of rye
bread, a glass jar filled with teaspoons, and a partly filled bottle of
milk. There are four chairs around the table._
_To the left of this table and near the front of the room stands a
dilapidated horse-hair sofa. Directly vis-a-vis from this sofa at the
Lower Right is a Morris chair which through long usage has sagged and
remolded itself to PA FISHYER’S two-hundred odd pounds. The door at the
Right leads into a short corridor through which the FISHYER’S must pass
in order to reach the bedrooms, boiler room, store-room, back stairs,
etc. A small table, ladened with pipes, tobacco jar and the Bible is to
Right of this door, and the wall phone to the Left. A clothesline with
its motley array of rags has been fastened to the hook above the phone
and then stretched diagonally across the stove to the shelf above the
sink. As this room is below the street level, it is necessary to mount
the short flight of stairs Upper Left in order to reach the areaway door
Upper Left._
_It is evening, about 5 minutes of six, and a light snow is falling.
The feet of the passers-by can be seen through the dimly frosted window
panes._
_MA FISHYER is peering through the window. Her whole attitude is one of
terrible anxiety and she turns with a half sob of relief as she hears the
areaway door open stealthily._
MA FISHYER
[_Under her breath._] A-annie?
MRS. FLOYD
[_Stalking down the stairs._] Hello, there!
MA FISHYER
[_Swallowing her disappointment._] Ach, it’s yuh, Mis’ Floyd! I—I thought
yuh vas ... [_She turns back to the window again_] ... s-somebody else!
MRS. FLOYD
[_Maliciously._] Didya now! [_Eyes ANNIE’S place at table._] Who fer
instance?
MA FISHYER
Ach, eferybody alvays comes to de jeniter for something ... maybe Mis’
Richards about de g-garbage pails....
MRS. FLOYD
... or mebbe even Annie, huh?
MA FISHYER
[_Unaware of the other’s curt smile._] Shure, it’s Thursday to-day ...
and she alvays comes....
MRS. FLOYD
Is that so? Well, ya never kin tell! [_Shakes fist at door Right._] Huh,
I got some news to spill in yer ear! [_Seats herself in PA FISHYER’S
chair, Right of table._]
MA FISHYER
Ach, not—not now! [_Still peering out of window._] Pa’ll be here right
avay and by six he vants to eat. Not a minute efter six vill he vait....
[_She looks at the clock._]
MRS. FLOYD
[_Leaning over._] It’s about someone ya know!
MA FISHYER
... and ef Annie ain’t here on time.... [_She turns startled as MRS.
FLOYD’S last words reach her._] ... A-about somevun vat I know ... vat I
k-know?
MRS. FLOYD
[_Venting her spite._] I’ll tell de world ya do!
MA FISHYER
It ain’t nothin’ bad?
MRS. FLOYD
Bad? Well! [_She glares at the door Right._] I imagine some people what
thinks _my_ son ain’t good company fer their daughter—certainly are going
to have a fit to-night! [_With compressed lips._] I’ll say _he_ is! Yes,
siree!
MA FISHYER
[_Coming slowly towards her._] It ain’t ’bout Annie?
MRS. FLOYD
Nuthin’ else but!
MA FISHYER
[_Moans._] Ach! [_Goes fearfully towards door Right and, half opening it,
listens intently._]
MRS. FLOYD
My son may be a little wild, but he ain’t never been _arrested_ yet.
MA FISHYER
Arrest.... [_She darts forward and puts her hand over MRS. FLOYD’S
mouth._] Shhhh!
MRS. FLOYD
[_Sputtering._] Say....
MA FISHYER
[_She glances terror-stricken to door._] Pleese to go now—he-he’s comin’,
h-he’s c-comin’!
MRS. FLOYD
What of it? I ain’t skeered of him.
MA FISHYER
P-pleese, not now! [_Desperately._] Not now—come efter vile ... pleese
... [_Tugs at her dress._]
MRS. FLOYD
[_Rising._] All right! I’ll go! [_Shakes her off._] But stop pushing!
I’m going! [_Hobbles up the stairs and slams door. Before MA FISHYER can
breathe her relief, she opens the door again._] But I’ll be back later!
MA FISHYER
Yess, yess, l-later....
[_Scarcely has the door closed after MRS. FLOYD when PA FISHYER
enters wearily from door Right._]
FISHYER
[_Throwing his denim jacket over Morris chair._] Huh! [_He strides over
to the sink and begins washing himself._] Huh! Supper ready?
MA FISHYER
[_At the table._] A-almost....
FISHYER
[_He growls._] Almost? Don’tcha know yess or no? [_He pushes up his
spectacles and glares at the clock._] Vere’s Annie? It’s nearly six
already!
MA FISHYER
De c-clock iss a l-little f-fest.... [_Walks nervously to window._]
FISHYER
Fest? Dat clock iss _alvays_ right, yuh hear me? Alvays right!
MA FISHYER
Yess, P-pa!
FISHYER
[_His wrath increasing._] Vell, vere iss she?
MA FISHYER
[_Busies herself at stove._] Na, Pa, she’ll be h-here eny minute soon!
Yuh know, h-how de l-lady k-keeps her! [_She glances at the door through
which MRS. FLOYD has left._] And m-maybe—in dis b-bed veather, she kent
come at all!
FISHYER
Vat! [_Drying his hands._]
MA FISHYER
I—I mean—efen in _good_ veather, only vunce a veek does she haff a day
off.
FISHYER
Dat’ll do! [_Throws towel on sink._] Ve vait ’til six ... [_Takes
Bible from table and seats himself in Morris chair._] ... and den ve
eat! [_Groans as he rubs his rheumatic left arm. EMIL enters from door
Right._] Na, Dummy, vat did she vant? [_Points upward._]
EMIL
[_Timidly._] She fergot her key and....
FISHYER
... and yuh hed to open de door for her! [_He growls._] Vy don’t yuh say
dat right avay? [_He begins reading the Bible, following each word with
his finger._]
MA FISHYER
Come, Emil ... [_She nods warningly in Fishyer’s direction._] ... and
vash yerself.
FISHYER
[_He reads laboriously._] “Train op a child in de vay he should go
... [_Glares at EMIL and then repeats._] ... de vay he _should_ go!
[_Reads._] ... and ven he iss old ... [_Repeats to himself._] ... old ...
he vill not depart from it....”
[_There is a knock at the outer door Left and MA FISHYER stands
transfixed, her face ashen. EMIL, his hands half-washed, looks
inquiringly at his father._]
FISHYER
Na, open de door!
EMIL
[_Hurriedly wiping his hands on his trousers, he mounts the steps and
opens the door._] Whatcha want?
MISS PAGE
Good evening! Does Annie Fishyer live here?
EMIL
Yeh ... [_He shuffles back to the sink._] ... come on in!
MISS PAGE
[_Descending the stairs._] Thank you. I wasn’t quite sure. [_Kindly to MA
FISHYER._] You must be Annie’s mother and....
FISHYER
I em Karl Fishyer!
MISS PAGE
Ah, yes, Annie’s father. [_She smiles her quick warm smile._] I don’t
think you know me. I am Miss Page, a special investigator from the Morals
Court!
MA FISHYER
[_Tremulously to FISHYER._] De lady, Pa, de l-lady vat Annie v-vorks
f-for....
FISHYER
So?
MISS PAGE
[_Surprised._] Works for me?
MA FISHYER
[_Hurriedly._] Pleese to come and sit down, Mis’, here on de sofa! [_She
deftly dusts the sofa with a swish of her apron and then steps back and
looks at MISS PAGE apprehensively._]
MISS PAGE
I think you are mistaking me.... [_She stops as she sees MA FISHYER’S
drawn face._]
MA FISHYER
[_Indicating the sofa._] P-pleese, Mis’....
[_PA FISHYER meanwhile replaces the Bible on the table. MISS
PAGE sits down without another word._]
MA FISHYER
[_Quickly._] Annie a-ain’t home yet, b-but....
MISS PAGE
[_Puzzled._] Isn’t home yet? Are you expecting her?
FISHYER
Huh? [_He turns towards them._] Shure—I expect her to come!
MA FISHYER
Y-yess, she always c-c-comes here on her day off—Pa means!
MISS PAGE
[_Probing gently._] Her day off?
MA FISHYER
Maybe she n-nefer tells yuh, b-but she alvays c-c-comes here Thursdays.
[_She wets her lips._] D-don’t she, Pa?
FISHYER
[_Grudgingly_] Huh! [_To MISS PAGE._] Since she’s vid yuh, Mis’, yess!
MA FISHYER
[_She talks to MISS PAGE, but her eyes are anxiously on FISHYER._] And
efery cent vat she earns by yuh, she brings to her Pa!
MISS PAGE
She—does what? [_Drawing off her gloves._]
MA FISHYER
E-efery cent she brings to her Pa! She iss a fine girl....
FISHYER
[_Cutting her short._] Vat’s dot to brag ofer?
MISS PAGE
[_Soothingly._] _Well_, I’m sure Annie is....
MA FISHYER
[_Eagerly._] Yuh hear, Pa? Efen Mis’ Page sez vat a fine Annie ve got.
FISHYER
Huh, she’s purty goot _now_! But before she vent mit yuh, Mis’ ... [_He
clenches his fist in wrath._] ... I—her fadder—didn’t know vhere she vas
for three months efen.... [_MISS PAGE suppresses a start._]
MA FISHYER
[_Imploringly._] But Pa, yuh know _now_ vere she vas! [_To MISS PAGE._]
H-he m-means de time ven she v-vas by yuh in ... [_She swallows hard._]
... de _country_.
[_MISS PAGE conceals her astonishment._]
FISHYER
Efen ef she vas....
MA FISHYER
... and how vell she looked ven....
FISHYER
... she come home agen! [_He paces angrily back and forth._] I hear dot a
million times already, too!
MA FISHYER
But P-pa....
FISHYER
All I say iss—dot’s no vay to treat yur fadder! And efter de strict
bringing op I giff de children, dey must remember—alvays—dat I em dere
fadder! _I em de boss here!_ [_To EMIL crouching against the wall._] Yuh
hear me?
MA FISHYER
[_Imploringly._] Pa, pleese, Pa.
FISHYER
[_Glaring at the clock._] It’s six; ve eat now! [_He seats himself at
table Right and begins slicing bread, motions EMIL to his seat, EMIL sits
facing the audience._]
MISS PAGE
[_She has been watching them attentively._] Yes, don’t let me interrupt
you!
FISHYER
I alvays eat at six! [_Turns towards stove._] Vere iss dot girl? [_MA
comes to table with platter of stew which she places quickly before
him._] Vat time yuh let her come to-day, Mis’...?
[_Before she can answer, steps are heard and ANNIE enters
hurriedly from the areaway door._]
FISHYER
Dere she iss! [_Points at her with knife._]
ANNIE
[_Breathlessly._] Oh, Pa, I couldn’t ... I couldn’t help it, I wuz....
[_She sees EMIL’S finger surreptitiously signaling MISS PAGE’S presence.
She gives MISS PAGE a terror-stricken look, then shrinks back against the
wall for support._]
ANNIE
[_Gasps_] Oh!
MA FISHYER
[_She goes towards her quickly and holding her tight against her breast,
speaks so as to give her time to recover._] Ach, no vunder she iss
surprised to see her lady here!
ANNIE
[_Clinging to her._] Ma!
MISS PAGE
[_Slowly, with great significance._] I had an errand to do in this
neighborhood, Annie, and as I passed this house, I stopped in ... [_Sees
MA FISHYER’S pleading look._] ... to ... to get acquainted with your
parents!
FISHYER
And ve are gled to know yuh also. [_He motions to the table._] Yuh eat
mit us?
[_EMIL pushes out ANNIE’S chair for her._]
MISS PAGE
No, thank you. If you don’t mind, I’ll just sit here.
FISHYER
Shure! Make yurself to home.
[_He bangs on the table with his knife._] Ma, ve eat now!
[_ANNIE hangs her coat and hat on coat rack._]
FISHYER
[_Motioning to ANNIE._] Sit down! [_ANNIE slips into her chair, facing
her father. MA FISHYER brings coffee pot to table._]
MISS PAGE
[_Observing EMIL with interest._] I didn’t know Annie had a brother.
MA FISHYER
[_Hurriedly, before FISHYER can answer._] Ach, yess, and sotch a good
boy! He helps his Pa take care off de house.
FISHYER
[_Grudgingly._] Huh!
MA FISHYER
[_Dishing out the food to EMIL and ANNIE._] And some day, he’ll be a
jeniter, too! And like our coffee man sez: “Jeniter vork iss nuthin’ to
sneeze at!” So vat vid Pa’s rheumatism, ve are gled to haff Emil help so
nice!
FISHYER
Emil—bahhh! [_EMIL crouches behind his mother’s arm._]
MA FISHYER
And yuh haff no idea, Mis’, how mutch vork dere iss here to do! [_Pours
coffee._] So vid our Emil....
[_FISHYER laughs derisively._]
MISS PAGE
[_Soothingly._] Yes, you must be kept very busy, Mr. Fishyer!
FISHYER
Bizzy? Yuh don’t know it, Mis’, how crazy ... [_He points upward with his
knife._] ... dose vomens get me! First, vun comes and sez de vater iss
too hot—dat efery time she turns it on—she a Turkish bath gets! Den....
[_The phone rings._] Yuh see, not efen peace on a meal I got.... [_Pushes
back his chair._]
MA FISHYER
Vait, Pa, I go! [_She hurries to phone._] Hollo! Yess, Mis’ Richards,
yess, he _iss_ by de boiler ... [_PA FISHYER motions for EMIL to go
out._] ... puttin’ more coal on! Yess, mam! [_She turns from phone just
in time to see EMIL’S scowling gesture at his father’s back._] Emil!
[_Grabs his cap in frantic haste._] Yur cap ... [_Pushes him towards door
Right._] ... quick!
[_PA FISHYER, unaware of what is passing in back of his chair,
pounds the table emphatically, with his fist._
_With a terrified look, EMIL rushes out, letting MA FISHYER
close the door behind him._]
FISHYER
[_He raises his head stubbornly._] I tell yuh, dat voman could by de
devil sit and yet be cold!
MA FISHYER
Yess, yess, Pa! But ve are gled to haff dis job! And vat ... mit our Emil
and Annie helpin’ so nice....
FISHYER
Helpin’! Bahhhh!
MA FISHYER
Ach, Mis’ Page, efery night I thank de good Gott for my Annie....
ANNIE
[_She turns quickly and gives her MOTHER a beseeching glance._] Ma ...
oh, M-ma.... [_Her coffee cup falls from her nerveless hand, spilling its
contents on her dress._]
FISHYER
Huh!
ANNIE
Pa ... P-pa ... it slipped! I—I’ll change my dress! [_She rushes out door
Right._]
FISHYER
[_Looks after her._] Huh!
[_Accuses MA FISHYER while he dips his bread in his coffee._] Fine
manners, she got!
[_Phone rings again._]
MA FISHYER
[_Running to phone._] Yess, yess, Mis’ Richards! [_Into receiver._]
Hollo.... Yess, Mis’ Richards, he _iss_....
FISHYER
[_Exasperated._] Oh, vat a dummy of a son, I got! [_To MA FISHYER._]
Maybe he fell in de coal bin again! [_Exits door Right rubbing his
rheumatic left arm._]
[_MA FISHYER turns from the phone, listens a moment at the door
through which PA FISHYER has gone, then quickly crosses the
room to MISS PAGE. Her whole manner has changed; she seems to
have shrunk suddenly._]
MA FISHYER
I em gled to know yuh, Mis’! [_She clasps and unclasps her hands._] And
my Annie—my Annie....
MISS PAGE
[_Gently._] Sit down, Mrs. Fishyer!
MA FISHYER
[_She sinks down in Annie’s chair at the left of the table._] She—she iss
mit y-yuh?
MISS PAGE
[_Compassionately._] In a way—yes.
MA FISHYER
In a vay?
MISS PAGE
Yes, I am interested in her welfare and am looking after her.
MA FISHYER
[_Scarcely audible._] S-she don’t live m-mit yuh?
MISS PAGE
Not exactly....
MA FISHYER
Ach, don’t tell dis to Pa! [_In despair._] Pleese, pleese, don’t tell him
enyding vat iss agenst her!
MISS PAGE
[_Leaning forward._] I don’t understand.
MA FISHYER
If—if he knows eferyding [_Swallowing with difficulty._] ... h-he kills
her!
MISS PAGE
[_Gently._] Do _you_ know everything about her?
MA FISHYER
[_Terrified._] No, no, don’t tell me! Pleese not to tell me! I don’t vant
to know!
MISS PAGE
Not even when you may be able to help her?
MA FISHYER
[_Shaking her head._] All I kin do ... [_Motioning to the boiler room._]
... iss to keep him from findin’ out d-dings about her! [_She looks her
full in the face._] I don’t vant to know enyding agenst my Annie!
MISS PAGE
[_Puzzled._] But if you remain in ignorance—how can you be of assistance?
MA FISHYER
[_Tremulously._] I kin help her only by—knowin’ nodding.
MISS PAGE
What do you mean? You as her mother should be anxious to know.
MA FISHYER
Yess, yuh haff right! But yuh don’t know Pa! [_She whispers._] He alvays
suspicions eferybody! Me—Emil—Annie! He dinks I hide from him someding
about de children! [_She pauses._] And den—it best iss I don’t know
dings. [_Slowly._] Ven yuh don’t know dings, he kent be scoldin’ yuh all
de time!
MISS PAGE
[_Aghast._] But—why should he?
MA FISHYER
[_Bitterly._] Ach, vy! Vy should he? [_She passes her hand across her
eyes._] Vat kin yuh do mit a man vat hass in his head only _vun idea_!
MISS PAGE
One idea?
MA FISHYER
Vun idea! [_Brokenly._] Dot all children should be brought op
_strict_—mit mutch scoldin’ and vhippin’.
MISS PAGE
[_Indignantly._] But can’t you convince him that such harsh methods....
MA FISHYER
[_Sobs._] I k-kin do nodding mit him—no vun kin! [_She beats her clenched
fist against her forehead._] He hass dot vun idea in his head and ...
[_She stares frantically at the door through which MRS. FLOYD has gone._]
... h-he must n-nefer find out!
MISS PAGE
Find out what? [_As MA FISHYER rocks back and forth weeping._] Don’t be
afraid. Tell me.
MA FISHYER
[_Tearfully._] Pleese, Mis’ Page, don’t let him find out dings a-agenst
A-Annie! [_Weeps._] P-p-pleese, pleese see I go on m-my knees t-to yuh!
[_Sinks down at MISS PAGE’S knees._] Pleese ... p-p-pleese!
MISS PAGE
[_Her eyes filled with tears._] Don’t cry, don’t! [_She places her arm
around her shaking shoulders._] Why didn’t you come to see me?
MA FISHYER
[_Weeping as she grasps MISS PAGE’S hands in agony._] Ach, I vanted to
c-come so m-meny t-times and esk yuh ... take c-care off Annie! L-look
efter her ... b-but I vas afraid!
MISS PAGE
Afraid?
MA FISHYER
Yess, because ... m-maybe....
MISS PAGE
[_She looks with sudden understanding towards ANNIE’S chair._] ... there
_was_ no Miss Page?
MA FISHYER
Yess! But n-now I seen yuh! [_She grasps her arms convulsively._] Yuh
_vill_ l-look out for her, von’t yuh? [_She wails._] It iss all I haff in
de vorld—my two c-children—all I haff. [_Sinks weeping bitterly against
MISS PAGE._]
[_EMIL’S whimpering cry is heard from the boiler room._]
EMIL
M-ma! Oh, Ma!
MA FISHYER
[_She starts up._] It’s Emil! Yuh vill oxcuse me? [_Wearily._] I gotta
go—he forgot agen to open de valve maybe! [_She grabs her shawl from the
coat rack._] And Pa mit hiss rheumatism kent reach op....
[_MISS PAGE rises._]
FISHYER
[_Angrily from the boiler room._] Ma! Yuh hear me?
MA FISHYER
Yess, Pa! [_To MISS PAGE._] Yuh _vill_ take care off her?
FISHYER
Ma! Come here!
MA FISHYER
[_She chokes back the tears as she opens the door to the boiler room._]
Yess, Pa, I em c-comin’! [_She whispers back to MISS PAGE._] And pleese,
alvays to remember—Pa should know nodding agenst her. [_She backs out
murmuring._] No-nodding ... n-nodding.
[_MISS PAGE dries her own tears and looks about the room with
distaste. Then she goes resolutely to the door Right and opens
it._]
MISS PAGE
[_Calling softly._] Annie! Annie! [_Motions._] Come out here! [_MISS PAGE
walks to table._]
[_ANNIE enters and closes door softly. She listens attentively,
her face pressed against the door._]
MISS PAGE
[_Back of EMIL’S chair._] What have you been telling them?
ANNIE
[_On the defensive._] Nuthin’ much ... only that I worked for ya as a
hired girl!
MISS PAGE
Why did you do that?
ANNIE
[_Back of arm chair._] So’s to get away from here! If he thought I wuz
a dish washer in a restaurant I’d hafta live here! [_She shudders._]
Nuthin’ doin’! I had seventeen years of it!
MISS PAGE
Yes, but still this is your home.
ANNIE
Yeh! [_Tremulously._] And I know what it’s like!
MISS PAGE
Didn’t you tell anyone? [_ANNIE shakes her head._] Not even your mother?
ANNIE
[_Goes quickly towards MISS PAGE. Aghast._] And have him beat it outta
her? Whadda ya think I am?
MISS PAGE
[_Puzzled._] Why did you tell them you worked for me?
ANNIE
Well, I—I hadda give somebody’s name and yuh wuz de only one I could
think of! [_Glances quickly towards closed door Right, then pleads._]
B-before that happened last year, Miss Page, I n-nearly w-went crazy,
and when I fell over _that time_ and ya sent m-me to de home until
e-everything wuz over.... I—j-jest sorta never forgotcha!
MISS PAGE
[_Severely._] Yes, but what has that to do with all this?
ANNIE
W-well, I n-needed some sorta alibi fer stayin’ away from here ...
[_Moves slowly down stage Right._] ... s-so I—I told ’em I _worked_ for
ya and that ya wuz goin’ out to de _c-country_ and I hadda go ’long!
MISS PAGE
[_Insistent._] And what else?
ANNIE
W-well, when I got outta de _hospital_, I stuck to my story and only came
here Thursdays.
MISS PAGE
[_With a helpless gesture._] Oh, Annie, why can’t you behave yourself?
ANNIE
[_Vehemently._] I _do_, Miss Page, honest I do! [_Crosses to Lower Left
to escape MISS PAGE’S searching eyes._] B-but I can’t help it if there’s
a-always somebody s-snitchin’ on ya!
MISS PAGE
[_Reproachfully._] Snitching! But Annie....
ANNIE
[_Nervously, twisting and untwisting her belt._] I d-don’t care _what_
they say! I—I didn’t pick up with that feller on de s-street! He—h-he wuz
in de room when I g-got in last night!
MISS PAGE
[_Coming towards her, slowly._] And _how_ did he get there?
ANNIE
[_Feebly._] Oh—er—one of de girls musta let’m have de key!
MISS PAGE
[_Sadly._] Those girls! [_ANNIE shrinks further away._] Why do you live
with them? You promised me the last time, you wouldn’t have anything more
to do with Mame and Lottie!
ANNIE
[_Haltingly._] But they’se so good to me, Mis’ Page! I gotta live some
place ... it might as well be with dem....
MISS PAGE
... and get yourself constantly into trouble?
ANNIE
[_Protesting._] Oh, Mis’ Page! Ya don’t want me to live _here_, do ya?
[_Tremulously._] Gee, if it wuzn’t fer Ma I’d n-never come h-here! B-but
Ma ... [_Her whole heart is in her voice._] ... she’s m-my M-ma ...
[_Sobs._] ... s-she’s m-my M-m-ma!
MISS PAGE
[_Walks up and puts her arm around ANNIE’S shaking shoulders, holds her
tight._] What’s going to become of you, Annie?
ANNIE
[_With hopeless shrug._] I dunno—and I don’t care! [_Moves away._] Just
so long ... [_Nods to door Right._] ... as _he_ don’t ketch on!
MISS PAGE
[_Walks thoughtfully back a few steps towards door Right before
turning._] Do you know why I came here to-night?
ANNIE
N-no.
MISS PAGE
I came here to find out the kind of home you have, so when I see the
Judge ... [_ANNIE looks up startled._] ... to-morrow morning, I can tell
him a little more about you!
ANNIE
[_Whispers._] A-about me?
MISS PAGE
Yes! [_Earnestly._] I’ve always been on the square with you, haven’t I,
Annie? [_ANNIE nods._] And I want to help you all I can. _But_ you’ve
been picked up four times during the last five months for loitering on
the streets late at night! [_As ANNIE starts to appeal._] And _last_
night the _police_ raided the flat you were in!
ANNIE
[_Protesting._] But honest, Mis’ Page, I couldn’t help it! [_She looks
about her like an hunted animal._] Ya see, I wuz ... wuz ... shhh!
[_The areaway door has opened and MRS. FLOYD appears on top
stair._]
MRS. FLOYD
[_Her beady eyes glisten in anticipation as she surveys ANNIE._] Hello,
there! [_She stumps down the stairs._]
ANNIE
[_Instinctively on the defensive._] H-hello! [_Moves forward to head her
off._] Ma’s helping’ Pa!
[_MISS PAGE crosses to sofa._]
MRS. FLOYD
[_Shaking off ANNIE’S restraining hand._] Oh, is she now! [_Pulls out
EMIL’S chair._] Then I’ll wait fer her!
ANNIE
[_In desperate fear, jerks her around._] I toldja, she’s helpin’ Pa!
MRS. FLOYD
[_Flinging her against the cupboard._] Lissen, girlie, I gotcha de
_first_ time!
[_MA FISHYER enters hastily from door Right._]
ANNIE
[_Almost hysterical in her fright._] Then beat it!
MA FISHYER
Ach, Mis’ Floyd, I heard yuh close yur door! Ve—ve heff company now ...
maybe it be better ve go on to _yer_ flet....
MRS. FLOYD
Oh, this suits me, I ain’t pertic’ler! [_Seats herself in EMIL’S chair.
Watching ANNIE signalling to MISS PAGE._] Who’s her friend?
MA FISHYER
[_Nervously._] Oxcuse me, but dis iss Annie’s Mis’ Page....
MRS. FLOYD
[_In response to MISS PAGE’S nod._] Pleased to meetcha! [_ANNIE crosses
over to her MOTHER and whispers distractedly in her ear._]
MA FISHYER
Ve ain’t finished our supper yet! Maybe it’s better I come ofer and see
yuh efter vile.
MRS. FLOYD
[_Not to be budged._] After while nuthin’! What did she say?
[_PA FISHYER enters unnoticed, wiping his hands._]
MA FISHYER
[_Piteously._] Pleese, Mis’ Floyd, eny minute now ... Pa ... Pa comes....
MRS. FLOYD
[_She thumbs towards ANNIE._] Did she say she wuz arrested?
FISHYER
Arrested! [_All look up in surprise. ANNIE cowers against the sink._] Who
vas arrested?
MA FISHYER
[_At bay._] Ach, Mis’ Floyd hass just been talkin’—er—no vitch vay to me,
h’aintcha, Mis’ Floyd?
FISHYER
Na—all right! [_He thunders at his wife._] But who vas arrested?
MRS. FLOYD
Who? [_Spitefully._] Well, Mr. Fishyer, a’course, it ain’t none of _my_
business, _but_ seeing what good neighbors we been and how _pertic’ler_
ya wuz to let me know that my son is a good-fer-nuthin’ loafer—I take
great pleasure ta letcha know that one of _yer_ swell family is, wuz or
will be arrested!
FISHYER
Vat? My family vat I bring up so strict?
MRS. FLOYD
[_She cackles derisively._] Uhuh! Ain’t it the limit?
FISHYER
[_Purpling with rage._] Who iss it?
MA FISHYER
[_Clinging to his arm._] Pa, pleese, ... P-Pa....
FISHYER
[_He shakes her off._] Na, are yuh deef? Na—_who_ I say?
MRS. FLOYD
[_Vindictively._] Who else but yer Annie!
[_ANNIE becomes deathly pale and shrinks against the wall Lower
Right._]
FISHYER
[_Turns furiously._] _Vat?_
MA FISHYER
[_She thrusts herself between FISHYER and ANNIE. Frantically._] Mis’
Page, Mis’ Page....
ANNIE
[_Clasping her mother convulsively, whimpers._] M-ma!
MISS PAGE
[_Quickly._] There—there must be some mistake! Where did you hear this,
Mrs. Floyd?
MRS. FLOYD
Well ... a friend of mine went ta the Domestic Relation Court ta-day ta
see about that husband of her’n—a perfect brute....
FISHYER
[_Impatiently._] Yeh, nefer mind about de brute!
MRS. FLOYD
And so I went along, because I been readin’ a dandy story about the
Morals Court—yeh know ... [_She winks to MISS PAGE as she thumbs in
ANNIE’S direction._] ... where them girls are taken ... anda so I sez ta
myself ... sez I ...
FISHYER
[_Exasperated._] Vat?
MRS. FLOYD
That’s what I’m comin’ ta. So I sez ta myself, I’ll visit the Morals
Court and see if them fellas from the papers tells the truth! [_FISHYER
almost beside himself with frenzy._] But I stayed so long with my friend
that the Judge wuz jest closin’ fer the day. _But_ who should I see
there—but Annie!
FISHYER
[_Choking with wrath, turns wildly with up-lifted fist towards ANNIE._]
Annie, come here!
MA FISHYER
[_Holding him back._] Don’t, Pa, pleese, don’t....
FISHYER
[_Trying to loosen her hold._] Keep quiet!
MISS PAGE
[_Resolutely._] That isn’t anything at all, Mr. Fishyer!
FISHYER
[_Bellows._] Vat _more_ yuh vant, efter bringin’ up a girl so strict?
MA FISHYER
[_Screams in terror as she feels herself overpowered._] Pa, pleese,
P-pa....
FISHYER
Vill yuh keep qviet! [_Furiously to ANNIE, whimpering in terror._] First,
I giff yuh someding to remember me by ... and den out off de _house_ yuh
go!
MA FISHYER
[_Fighting to hold him back._] N-no, Pa, don’t....
FISHYER
[_Throwing her on the floor in front of table._] Get out off my vay, Ma!
[_He shouts enraged._] Annie, come here! Yuh hear me! [_He grasps her
left arm and jerks her towards him._]
ANNIE
[_Writhing in pain as he tightens his hold._] No—no! It’s—it’s a lie—a
lie....
MRS. FLOYD
[_Rising in surprise._] Huh!
ANNIE
Yes, it is! [_She glares about her with the desperation of a trapped
animal._] Yes, it is! I—I wuz ... there ... [_She points sobbingly to
MISS PAGE._] ... with her!
FISHYER
Mit her? Mis’ Page?
ANNIE
[_Trying to loosen his grip._] Yes, I wuz helpin’ her carry her books ...
[_She nods to MRS. FLOYD._] ... when she musta seen me!
[_MISS PAGE is startled at ANNIE’S lie._]
FISHYER
[_Tightening his cruel hold until she falls sobbing on her knees._] Vat
yuh mean?
ANNIE
[_The words fairly tumble from her twitching lips._] Mis’ Page works fer
de Judge—h-helps him.... And I often go to de court with h-her ... don’t
I, Mis’ Page?
[_An agonizing second. MISS PAGE gives one glance at MA
FISHYER’S prostrated form on the floor and then rises to the
occasion._]
MISS PAGE
Yes! She’s _always_ there with me!
ANNIE
[_Sobs._] And—I been there lots of times, ain’t I, Mis’ Page?
[_Quickly before MISS PAGE can reply, MA FISHYER thrusts
herself between PA FISHYER and ANNIE._]
MA FISHYER
[_Tries to separate his iron grip from ANNIE’S arm._] Yuh see, Pa? yuh
see?
FISHYER
[_To MISS PAGE, slightly mollified._] Ef she’s vid _yuh_, Mis’ ... dot’s
all right, den! [_Flings ANNIE and MA FISHYER from him. While MA FISHYER
tenderly kisses ANNIE’S arm he turns wrathfully towards MRS. FLOYD._]
_BUT!_ [_MRS. FLOYD, who seeing his intentions, scurries up the stairs._]
... Good-bye, Mis’ Floyd! [_Runs up the stairs and shouts after her._]
And next time yuh _look_ first before yuh jump! [_Crashes door after
her._]
[_MA FISHYER is holding ANNIE tightly in her arms. Both are
weeping._]
FISHYER
So! [_Comes down stairs._] Dis should be a lesson for yuh, Annie! Yuh see
now vat maybe heppens ef I don’t bring yuh up so strict! [_Shakes fist
after MRS. FLOYD._] Dat cat vat just left might be in de right!
[_EMIL re-enters and moves wonderingly towards sink._]
MA FISHYER
[_Her breath sobbing in her throat._] Y-yess, Pa, y-yess....
FISHYER
[_Sternly flinging her away from ANNIE so that she falls into EMIL’S
arms._] Let her alone, Ma! Vat kind off bringin’ up is dot? [_To MISS
PAGE._] I tell yuh, Mis’, my fadder alvays said: “Order rules de vorld,
but _man_ iss ruled vid de _vhip!_” And he vas right! [_Glares at
ANNIE._] He ruled us vid a hand off iron! [_To MISS PAGE._] And look on
me! I haf de greatest respect for my fadder! [_Gives them all a menacing
look._] And I do de same! Alvays am I strict and ven dey grow old, dey’ll
tank me for it!
[_He sits down at the table and motions EMIL to his seat again.
EMIL sidles into his chair guardedly. PA FISHYER begins his
meal, dipping his chunk of rye bread in the gravy. MISS PAGE
notices the looks of hatred darted at PA FISHYER by both ANNIE
and EMIL._]
MISS PAGE
[_Curiously._] And—did you love your father, Mr. Fishyer?
FISHYER
[_Taken aback._] Lofe? [_He stops with his coffee cup half-way._] Shure,
I lofe him ven I respect him! [_Grimly._] Huh! [_Cracking an imaginary
whip._] He’d made us dance to de muzik off de stick ef ve didn’t lofe
him! Shure.... [_He pauses._] ... Shure, de children alvays lofe ...
[_Fixes his eye on EMIL who immediately stops drinking his coffee._] ...
de fadder!
[_EMIL draws back in consternation._]
MISS PAGE
[_Seeing the futility of the situation, turns thoughtfully to the sofa
for her gloves and purse._] Well, it’s late and I must be going! [_She
pauses a second in thought, then comes to a decision._] By the way, Mr.
Fishyer, would you mind if I take Annie with me?
FISHYER
Right avay? I vanted to giff her a good talkin’ to, yet!
MISS PAGE
[_Pulling on her gloves._] I’m so sorry, but I’m leaving for the country
early in the morning....
MA FISHYER
[_Staring fixedly at MISS PAGE._] De c-country?
MISS PAGE
[_Smiling at her, very gently._] The _real_ country, Mrs. Fishyer!
FISHYER
[_He grunts, between mouthfuls._] Shure, mit yuh it’s all right! [_Over
his shoulder to ANNIE._] Put on yur tings, Annie!
[_For a moment, while his back is turned, MA FISHYER crushes
ANNIE sobbingly to her breast, kissing her again and again._]
ANNIE
[_Covering her MOTHER’S tear-stained cheeks with kisses, she whispers
brokenly._] Don’t Ma, don’t, I’ll be good! I’ll be good!
MA FISHYER
[_Sobs, clinging to her._] Annie ... [_MISS PAGE, separating the two,
holds MA FISHYER tight in her arms._] Little Annie!
MISS PAGE
[_While ANNIE gets her coat and hat from the coat rack._] Good-bye, Mrs.
Fishyer, you needn’t worry! [_Looks sternly at PA FISHYER, unconcernedly,
eating his meal._] I’ll take good care of your Annie!
[_MA FISHYER, unable to utter a word, leans over and kisses
MISS PAGE’S hand. MISS PAGE turns and mounts the stairs leading
to the areaway. As she opens the door, FISHYER looks up._]
FISHYER
Good-bye, Mis’, and ef she don’t behave herself ... [_ANNIE clings to
her. He balls his fist._] ... yuh just let me know!
MISS PAGE
[_Her arm protectingly around ANNIE, she eyes him, half sadly, half
ironically._] Yes, indeed! You’d be a _great_ help!
FISHYER
[_Nods his self-satisfaction and takes his second cupful of coffee._]
Shure!
[_The curtain descends as MA FISHYER leans heavily against
EMIL’S chair, her eyes following the two disappearing through
the doorway._]
CURTAIN
[Illustration: THE CAST OF “THE UNDERCURRENT” AT THE PALACE THEATRE, NEW
YORK CITY, JANUARY 20-26, 1929
Florence Thompson as Mrs. Floyd
Harriet Allyn as Ma Fishyer
Margaret Moore as Miss Page
Curt Benisch as Pa Fishyer
Charles J. White as Emil
Gladys Pfeffer as Annie]
[Illustration: SCENE DESIGN
‘THE UNDERCURRENT’]
[Illustration: LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, OCTOBER 7-13, 1928]
[Illustration: _LOS ANGELES EXAMINER_ OCTOBER 19, 1928
THE TURNING POINT
GLADYS PFEFFER and CURT BENISCH in “The Undercurrent,” at the
Hillstreet.—(Drawing by Ellen Danar.)]
THE PRESS
THE PRESS
HOW YOUR MONEY HELPS
The varied phases of an organization like the Albany Community Chest are
services that are difficult to illustrate in any vivid way to the public
that supports the philanthropy, and much of its praise must needs go
unsung, if not unhonored.
Twenty-five per cent of the funds collected for the Chest are devoted
to extending and supporting social service that acts as a sort of human
adjuster in homes where things greatly need adjusting. The Chest can
claim a friend; one that is not directly propaganda for its work, in the
playlet, “The Undercurrent,” that is being acted at Proctor’s Grand. It
is the work of Miss Fay Ehlert of Chicago and reveals the value of a
woman social service worker in entering a squalid home where the father’s
domineering and brutalizing mind is driving his young daughter from the
home to possible disaster away from it. In fact, she is accused of theft,
and it is the understanding and sympathy of this social worker that
saves the girl. She tells a brave falsehood as to the girl’s previous
whereabouts and saves her thus from the wrath of the father. Then she
takes the girl with her to make the untruth come true in a finer and
more wholesome atmosphere for the girl.
Probably Miss Ehlert has seen some such incident in service work in
Chicago. One could find it in any city and it is this unofficial court
of domestic relations that the Albany Community Chest partially supports
in its work of helping to make better citizens or to save normally good
citizens from demoralizing trends.
“The Undercurrent” is a forceful and convincing illustration of the good
your money does when it is given to the Community Chest.
—Editorial in _The Knickerbocker Press_,
Albany, N. Y., April 9, 1929.
THE THEATRE AND SOCIAL SERVICE
In every city and town nowadays there is a social service organization,
or a group of unselfish citizens—usually women—devoted to the betterment
of home life among the poor, the ignorant and even lawless families.
It is work that requires infinite tact, patience and sympathy with the
sorrows and trials of unfortunate and unhappy families. In the great
cities the social service workers are often endowed organizations. In
small communities they depend upon the occasional and voluntary donations
of prosperous neighbors. The very confidential nature of the quiet
ministrations of the social service worker prevents the exploitation of
their achievements or the publication of their daily and nightly tasks in
detail.
Many generous givers to this priceless cause may not realize how their
money is applied, how it helps not only the poor but also misguided
families in which cruelty, domestic misunderstanding and deceit are
making for the disruption of what should be happy homes.
There is now touring the R-K-O vaudeville circuit, a one-act play called
“The Undercurrent,” which not only throws the searchlight of truth upon
the motives and deeds of the social service worker, but incidentally
illustrates how the theatre may exert a helpful influence towards the
extension and understanding of non-sectarian social service.
This little play, written by Mrs. Fay Ehlert, wife of the Chilean Consul
in Chicago, and herself a social service worker, has been one of the
popular successes of major vaudeville in every theatre where it has been
presented. It is neither propaganda nor preachment, standing bravely upon
its own feet as a tense, tender and convincing record of unhappy family
life into which a wise and womanly social service friend is able to bring
peace and a large measure of happiness. The phenomenal popular success
of this dramatic sketch should impress practical theatrical producers
that they can exercise a powerful (and profitable) hand in helping to
save normally good citizens from demoralizing trends by presenting
true and compelling plays or sketches which demonstrate with dramatic
fidelity such incidents of life and service as those depicted in “The
Undercurrent.”