More matter than you kin scatter all over Cincinnatti.
LINDSAY.
Go ’head on, Lucy Taylor. Go ’head on. You know a very little of yo’
sugar sweetens my coffee. Go ’head on. Everytime you lift yo’ arm you
smell like a nest of yellow hammers.
MRS. TAYLOR.
Go ’head on yo’self. Yo’ head look like it done wore out three bodies.
Talkin’ ’bout _me_ smellin’—you smell lak a nest of grand daddies
yo’self.
LINDSAY.
Aw rock on down de road, ’oman. Ah, don’t wantuh change words wid yuh.
Youse too ugly.
MRS. TAYLOR.
You ain’t nobody’s pretty baby, yo’self. You so ugly I betcha yo’ wife
have to spread uh sheet over yo’ head tuh let sleep slip up on yuh.
LINDSAY.
(Threatening) You better git way from me while you able. I done tole
you I don’t wanter break a breath wid you. It’s uh whole heap better
tuh walk off on yo’ own legs than it is to be toted off. I’m tired of
yo’ achin’ round here. You fool wid me now an’ I’ll knock you into doll
rags, Tony or no Tony.
MRS. TAYLOR.
(Jumping up in his face) Hit me? Hit me! I dare you tuh hit me. If you
take dat dare, you’ll steal uh hawg an’ eat his hair.
LINDSAY.
Lemme gwan down to dat church befo’ you make me stomp you. (He exits,
right.)
MRS. TAYLOR.
You mean you’ll _git_ stomped. Ah’m goin’ to de trial, too. De nex trial
gointer be _me_ for kickin’some uh you Baptist niggers around.
(A great noise is heard off stage left. The angry and jeering voices of
children. MRS. TAYLOR looks off left and takes a step or two towards
left exit as the noise comes nearer.)
VOICE OF ONE CHILD.
Tell her! Tell her! Turn her up and smell her. Yo’ mama ain’t got
nothin’ to do wid me.
MRS. TAYLOR.
(Hollering off left) You lil Baptis’ haitians leave them chillun alone.
If you don’t, you better!
(Enter about ten children struggling and wrestling in a bunch. MRS.
TAYLOR looks about on the ground for a stick to strike the children
with.)
VOICE OF CHILD.
Hey! Hey! He’s skeered tuh knock it off. Coward!
MRS. TAYLOR.
If y’all don’t git on home!
SASSY LITTLE GIRL.
(Standing akimbo) I know you better not touch me, do my mama will ’tend
to you.
MRS. TAYLOR.
(Making as if to strike her.) Shet up you nasty lil heifer, sassin’ me!
You ain’t half raised.
(The little girl shakes herself at MRS. TAYLOR and is joined by two or
three others.)
MRS. TAYLOR.
(Walkin’ towards right exit.) I’m goin’ on down to de church an’ tell yo’
mammy. But she ain’t been half raised herself. (She exits right with
several children making faces behind her.)
ONE BOY.
(To sassy GIRL) Aw, haw! Y’all ol’ Baptis’ ain’t got no bookcase in yo’
chuch. We went there one day an’ I saw uh soda cracker box settin’ up in
de corner so I set down on it. (Pointing at sassy GIRL) Know what ole
Mary Ella say? (Jeering laughter) Willie, you git up off our library!
Haw! Haw!
MARY ELLA.
Y’all ole Meth’dis’ ain’t got no window panes in yo’ ole church.
ANOTHER GIRL.
(Takes center of stand, hands akimbo and shakes her hips) I don’t keer
whut y’all say, I’m a Meth’dis’ bred an’ uh Meth’dis’ born an’ when I’m
dead there’ll be uh Meth’dis’ gone.
MARY ELLA.
(Snaps fingers under other girl’s nose and starts singing.
Several join her.)
Oh Baptis’, Baptis’ is my name
My name’s written on high
I got my lick in de Baptis’ church
Gointer eat up de Meth’dis’ pie.
(The Methodist children jeer and make faces. The Baptist camp make
faces back; for a full minute there is silence while each camp tries to
outdo the other in face making. The Baptist makes the last face.)
METHODIST BOY.
Come on, less us don’t notice ’em. Less gwan down to de church an’ hear
de trial.
MARY ELLA.
Y’all ain’t de onliest ones kin go. We goin’, too.
WILLIE.
Aw, haw! Copy cats! (Makes face) Dat’s right. Follow on behind us lak
uh puppy dog tail. (They start walking toward right exit, switching
their clothes behind.) Dat’s right. Follow on behind us lak uh puppy
dog tail. (They start walking toward right exit, switching their
clothes behind.)
(Baptist children stage a rush and struggle to get in front of the
Methodists. They finally succeed in flinging some of the Methodist
children to the ground and some behind them and walk towards right exit
haughtily switching their clothes.)
WILLIE.
(Whispers to his crowd) Less go round by Mosely’s lot an’ beat ’em
there!
OTHERS.
All right!
WILLIE.
(Yellin’ to Baptists) We wouldn’t walk behind no ole Baptists!
(The Methodists turn and walk off towards left exit, switching their
clothes as the Baptists are doing.)
SLOW CURTAIN
ACT THREE
SETTING: _A high stretch of railroad track thru a luxurious Florida
forest. It is near sundown._
ACTION: _When the curtain rises there is no one on the stage, but there
is a tremendous noise and hubbub off-stage right. There are yells of
derision and shouts of anger. Part of the mob is trying to keep JIM in
town, and part is driving him off. After a full minute of this, JIM
enters with his guitar hanging around his neck and his coat over his
shoulder. The sun is dropping low and red thru the forest. He is
looking back angrily and shouting at the mob. A missile is thrown after
him. JIM drops his coat and guitar and grabs up a piece of brick, and
makes threatening gestures of throwing it._
JIM.
(Running back the way he came and hurling the brick with all his might)
I’ll kill some o’ you old box-ankled niggers. (Grabs up another piece
of brick.) I’m out o’ your old town. Now just let some of you old
half-pint Baptists let yo’ wooden God and Cornstalk Jesus fool you into
hittin’ me. (Threatens to throw again. There are some frightened
screams and the mob is heard running back.) I’m glad I’m out o’ yo’ ole
town anyhow. I ain’t never comin’ back no mo’, neither. You ole
ugly-rump niggers done ruint de town anyhow.
(There is complete silence off stage. JIM walks a few steps with his
coat and guitar, then sits down on the railroad embankment facing the
audience. He pulls off one shoe and pours the sand out. He holds the
shoe in his hand a moment and looks wistfully back down the railroad
track.)
JIM.
Lawd, folks sho is deceitful. (He puts on the shoe and looks back down
the track again.) I never woulda thought people woulda acted like that.
(Laces up the shoe) Specially Dave Carter, much as me and him done
progue’d ’round together goin’ in swimmin’ an’ playin’ ball an’
serenadin’ de girls an’ de white folks. (He sits there gloomily silent
for awhile, then looks behind him and picks up his guitar and begins to
pick a tune. The music is very sad, but he trails off into, “YOU MAY
LEAVE AN’ GO TO HALIMUHFACKS, BUT MY SLOW DRAG WILL BRING YOU BACK.”
When he finishes he looks at the sun and picks up his coat.)
JIM.
Reckon I better git on down de road and git some where. Lawd knows
where. (Stops suddenly in his tracks and turns back toward the village.
Takes a step or two.) All dat mess and stink for nothin’. Dave know
good an’ well I didn’t meant to hurt him much. (He takes off his cap
and scratches his head thoroughly. Then turns again and starts on down
the road left. Enter DAISY, left, walking fast and panting, her head
down. They meet.)
DAISY.
Oh, hello, Jim. (A little surprised and startled)
JIM.
(Not expecting her) Hello, Daisy. (Embarrassed silence.)
DAISY.
I was just coming over town to see how you come out.
JIM.
You don’t have to go way over there to find dat out ... you and Dave
done got me run outa town for nothin’.
DAISY.
(Putting her hand on his arm) Dey didn’t run you outa town, did dey?
JIM.
(Shaking her hand off) Whut you reckon I’m countin’ Mr. Railroad’s ties
for ... just to find out how many ties between here and Orlando?
DAISY.
(Hand on his arm again) Dey cain’t run you off like dat!
JIM.
Take yo’ hands off me, Daisy! How come they cain’t run me off wid you
and Dave an’ ... everybody ’ginst me?
DAISY.
I ain’t opened my mouf ’gainst you, Jim. I ain’t said one word ... I
wasn’t even at de old trial. My madame wouldn’t let me git off. I wuz
just comin’ to see ’bout you now.
JIM.
Aw, go ’head on. You figgered I was gone too long to talk about. You
was haulin’ it over to town to see Dave ... dat’s whut you was doin’
... after gittin’ me all messed up.
DAISY.
(Making as if to cry) I wasn’t studyin’ ’bout no Dave.
JIM.
(Hopefully) Aw, don’t tell me. (Sings) Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
show me a woman that a man can trust. (DAISY is crying now.)
JIM.
What you crying for? You know you love Dave. I’m yo’ monkey-man. He
always could do more wid you that I could.
DAISY.
Naw, you ain’t no monkey-man neither. I don’t want you to leave town. I
didn’t want y’all to be fightin’ over me, nohow.
JIM.
Aw, rock on down de road wid dat stuff. A two-timin’ cloaker like you
don’t keer whut come off. Me and Dave been good friends ever since we
was born till you had to go flouncing yourself around.
DAISY.
What did I do? All I did was to come over town to see you and git a
mouf-ful of gum. Next thing I know y’all is fighting and carrying on.
JrM: (Stands silent for a while) Did you come over there Sat’-day night
to see me sho nuff, sugar babe?
DAISY.
Everybody could see dat but you.
JIM.
Just like I told you, Daisy, before you ever left from round here and
went up North. I could kiss you every day ... just as regular as
pig-tracks.
DAISY.
And I tole you I could stand it too—just as regular as you could.
JIM.
(Catching her by the arm and pulling her down with him onto the rail)
Set down, here, Daisy. Less talk some chat. You want me sho nuff?
Hones’ to God?
DAISY.
(Coyly) ’Member whut I told you out on de lake last summer?
JIM.
Sho nuff, Daisy? (DAISY nods smilingly)
JIM.
(Sadly) But I got to go ’way. Whut we gointer do ’bout dat?
DAISY.
Where you goin’, Jim?
JIM.
(Looking sadly down the track) God knows.
(Off stage from the same direction from which JIM entered comes the
sound of whistling and tramping of feet on the ties.)
JIM.
(Brightening) Dat’s Dave! (Frowning) Wonder whut he doin’ walkin’ dis
track? (Looks accusingly at DAISY) I bet he’s goin’ to yo’ work-place.
DAISY.
Whut for?
JIM.
He ain’t goin’ to see de madame—must be goin’ to see you. (He starts to
rise petulantly as DAVE comes upon the scene. Daisy rises also.)
DAVE.
(Looks accusingly from one to the other) Whut y’all jumpin’ up for? I .
. .
JIM.
Whut you gut to do wid us business? Tain’t none of yo’ business if we
stand up, set down or fly like a skeeter hawk.
DAVE.
Who said I keered? Dis railroad belongs to de man—I kin walk it good as
you, cain’t I?
JIM.
(Laughing exultantly) Oh, yeah, Mr. Do-Dirty! You figgered you had done
run me on off so you could git Daisy all by yo’self. You was headin’
right for her work-place.
DAVE.
I wasn’t no such a thing.
JIM.
You was. Didn’t I hear you coming down de track all whistling and
everything?
DAVE.
Youse a big ole Georgy-something-ain’t-so! I done got my belly full of
Daisy Sat’day night. She can’t snore in my ear no more.
DAISY.
(Indignantly) Whut you come here low-ratin’ me for, Dave Carter? I
ain’t done nothin’ to you but treat you white. Who come rubbed yo’ ole
head for you yestiddy if it wasn’t me?
DAVE.
Yeah, you rubbed my head all right, and I lakted dat. But everybody say
you done toted a pan to Joe Clarke’s barn for Jim before I seen you.
DAISY.
Think I was going to let Jim lay there ’thout nothing fitten for a dog
to eat?
DAVE.
That’s all right, Daisy. If you want to pay Jim for knockin’ me in de
head, all right. But I’m a man in a class ... in a class to myself and
nobody knows my name.
JIM.
(Snatching Daisy around to face him) Was you over to Dave’s house
yestiddy rubbing his ole head and cloaking wid him to run me outa town
... and me looked up in dat barn wid de cows and mules?
DAISY.
(Sobbing) All both of y’all hollerin’ at me an’ fussin’ me just cause I
tries to be nice... and neither one of y’all don’t keer nothin’ bout
me.
(BOTH BOYS glare at each other over DAISY’s head and both try to hug
her at the same time. She violently wrenches herself away from both and
makes as if to move on.)
DAISY.
Leave me go! Take yo’ rusty pams offen me. I’m going on back to my
work-place. I just got off to see bout y’all and look how y’all treat
me.
JIM.
Wait a minute, Daisy. I love you like God loves Gabriel ... and dat’s
His best angel.
DAVE.
Daisy, I love you harder than de thunder can bump a sump ... if I don’t
... God’s a gopher.
DAISY.
(Brightening) Dat’s de first time you ever said so.
DAVE & JIM.
Who?
JIM.
Whut you hollering “Who” for? Yo’ fat don’t fit no limb.
DAVE.
Speak when you spoken to ... come when you called, next fall you’ll be
my coon houn’ dog.
JIM.
Table dat discussion. (Turning to DAISY) You ain’t never give me no
chance to talk wid you right.
DAVE.
YOU made me feel like you was trying to put de Ned book on me all de
time. Do you love me sho nuff, Daisy?
DAISY.
(Blooming again into coquetry) Aw, y’all better stop dat. You know you
don’t mean it.
DAVE.
Who don’t mean it? Lemme tell you something, mama, if you was mine I
wouldn’t have you counting no ties wid yo’ pretty lil toes. Know whut
I’d do?
DAISY.
(Coyly) Naw, whut would you do?
DAVE.
I’d buy you a whole passenger train ... and hire some mens to run it
for you.
DAISY.
(Happily) Oo-ooh, Dave.
JIM.
(To Dave) De wind may blow, de doorway slam
Dat shut you shootin’ ain’t worth a dam.
(To Daisy)
I’d buy you a great big ole ship ... and then, baby, I’d buy you a
ocean to sail yo’ ship on.
Daisy: (Happily) Oo-ooh, Jim.
DAVE.
(To Jim; A long tain, a short caboose
Dat lie whut you shootin’, ain’t no use.
(To Daisy)
Miss Daisy, know what I’d do for you?
DAISY.
Naw, whut?
DAVE.
I’d come down de river riding a mud cat and loading a minnow.
DAISY.
Lawd, Dave, you sho is propaganda.
JIM.
(Peevishly) Naw he ain’t ... he’s just lying ... he’s a noble liar.
Know whut I’d do if you was mine?
DAISY.
Naw, Jim.
JIM.
I’d make a panther wash yl’ dishes and a ’gater chop yo’ wood for you.
DAVE.
Daisy, how come you let Jim lie lak dat? He’s as big as a liar as he is
a man. But sho nuff now, laying all sides to jokes, Jim there don’t
even know how to answer you. If you don’t b’lieve it ... ast him
something.
DAISY.
(To Jim) You like me much, Jim?
JIM.
(Enthusiastically) Yeah, Daisy I sho do.
DAVE.
(Triumphant) See dat! I tole you he didn’t know how to answer nobody
like you. If he was talking to some of them ol’ funny looking gals over
town he’d be answering ’em just right. But he got to learn how to
answer you. Now you ast me something and see how I answer you.
DAISY.
Do you like me, Dave?
DAVE.
(Very properly in a falsetto voice) Yes ma’am! Dat’s de way to answer
swell folks like you. Furthermore, less we prove which one of us love
you do best right now. (To JIM) Jim, how much time would you do on de
chain-gang for dis ’oman?
JIM.
Twenty years and like it.
DAVE.
See dat, Daisy? Dat nigger ain’t willin’ to do no time for you. I’d beg
de judge to gimme life. (Both JIM and DAVE laugh)
DAISY.
Y’all doin’ all dis bookooin’ out here on de railroad track but I bet
y’all crazy ’bout Bootsie and Teets and a whole heap of other gals.
JIM.
Cross my feet and hope to die! I’d ruther see all de other wimmen folks
in de worl’ dead than for you to have de toothache.
DAVE.
If I was dead and any other woman come near my coffin de undertaker
would have to do his job all over ... ’cause I’d git right up and walk
off. Furthermore, Miss Daisy, ma’am, also ma’am, which would you ruther
be a lark a flying or a dove a settin’ ... ma’am, also ma’am?
DAISY.
’Course I’d ruther be a dove.
JIM.
Miss Daisy, ma’am, also ma’am ... if you marry dis nigger over my head,
I’m going to git me a green hickory club and season it over yo’ head.
DAVE.
Don’t you be skeered, baby ... papa kin take keer a you. (To Jim)
Countin’ from de finger (Suiting the action to the word) back to de
thumb ... start anything I got you some.
JIM.
Aw, I don’t want no more fight wid you, Dave.
DAVE.
Who said anything about fighting? We just provin’ who love Daisy de
best. (To DAISY) Now, which one of us you think love you de best?
DAISY.
Deed I don’t know, Dave.
DAVE.
Baby, I’d walk de water for you ... and tote a mountain on my head
while I’m walkin’.
JIM.
Know what I’d do, honey babe? If you was a thousand miles from home and
you didn’t have no ready-made money and you had to walk all de way,
walkin’ till ye’ feet start to rolling, just like a wheel, and I was
riding way up in de sky, I’d step backwards offa dat aryplane just to
walk home wid you.
DAISY.
(Falling on JIM’s neck) Jim, when you talk to me like dat I just can’t
stand it. Less us git married right now.
JIM.
Now you talkin’ like a blue-back speller. Less go!
DAVE.
(Sadly) You gointer leave me lak dis, Daisy?
DAISY.
(Sadly) I likes you, too, Dave, I sho do. But I can’t marry both of
y’all at de same time.
JIM.
Aw, come on, Daisy ... sun’s gettin’ low. (He starts off pulling DAISY)
DAVE: Whut’s I’m gointer do? (Walking after them)
JIM.
Gwan back and dance ... you make out you don’t need me to play none.
DAVE.
(Almost tearfully) Aw, Jim, shucks! Where y’all going?
(DAISY comes to an abrupt halt and stops JIM)
Daisy: That’s right, honey. Where is we goin’ sho nuff?
JIM.
(Sadly) Deed I don’t know, baby. They just sentenced me to go ... they
didn’t say where and I don’t know.
DAISY.
How we goin’ nohow to go when we don’t know where we goin’?
(JIM looks at DAVE as if he expects some help but DAVE stands sadly
silent. JIM takes a few steps forward as if to go on. DAISY makes a
step or two, unwillingly, then looks behind her and stops. DAVE looks
as if he will follow them.)
DAISY.
Jim! (He stops and turns) Wait a minute! Whut we gointer do when we git
there?
JIM.
Where?
DAISY.
Where we goin’?
JIM.
I done tole you I don’t know where it is.
DAISY.
But how we gointer git something to eat and a place to stay?
JIM.
Play and dance ... just like I been doin’.
DAISY.
You can’t dance and Dave ain’t gointer be ther.
JIM.
(Looks appealingly at DAVE, then away quickly) Well, I can’t help dat,
can I?
DAISY.
(Brightly) I tell you whut, Jim! Less us don’t go nowhere. They
sentenced you to leave Eatonville and youse more than a mile from de
city limits already. Youse in Maitland now. Supposin’ you come live on
de white folks’ place wid me after we git married. Eatonville ain’t got
nothin’ to do wid you livin’ in Maitland.
JIM.
Dat’a a good idea, Daisy.
DAISY.
(Jumping into his arms) And listen, honey, you don’t have to be
beholden to Dave nor nobody else. You can throw dat ole box away if you
want to. I know ehre you can get a swell job.
JIM.
(Sheepishly) Doin’ whut? (Looks lovingly at his guitar)
DAISY.
(Almost dancing) Yard man. All you have to do is wash windows, and
sweep de sidewalk, and scrub off de steps and porch and hoe up de weeds
and rake up de leaves and dig a few holes now and then with a spade ...
to plant some trees and things like that. It’s a good steady job.
JIM.
(After a long deliberation) You see, Daisy, de Mayor and corporation
told me to go on off and I oughter go.
DAISY.
Well, I’m not going tippin’ down no railroad track like a Maltese cat.
I wasn’t brought up knockin’ round from here to yonder.
JIM.
Well, I wasn’t brought up wid no spade in my hand ... and ain’t going
to start it now.
DAISY.
But sweetheart, we got to live, ain’t we? We got to git hold of money
before we kin do anything. I don’t mean to stay in de white folks’
kitchen all my days.
JIM.
Yeah, all dat’s true, but you couldn’t buy a flea a waltzing jacket wid
de money I’m going to make wid a hoe and spade.
DAISY.
(Getting tearful) You don’t want me. You don’t love me.
JIM.
Yes, I do, darling, I love you. Youse de one letting a spade come
between us. (HE caresses her) I loves you and you only. You don’t see
me dragging a whole gang of farming tools into us business, do you?
DAISY.
(Stiffly) Well, I ain’t going to marry no man that ain’t going to work
and take care of me.
JIM.
I don’t mind working if de job ain’t too heavy for me. I ain’t going to
bother wid nothin’ in my hands heavier than dis box ... and I totes it
round my neck ’most of de time.
(DAISY makes a despairing gesture as JIM takes a step or two away from
her. She turns to DAVE finally.)
DAISY.
Well, I reckon you loves me the best anyhow. You wouldn’t talk to me
like Jim did, would you, Dave?
DAVE.
Naw, I wouldn’t say what he said a-tall.
DAISY.
(Cuddling up to him) Whut would you say, honey?
DAVE.
I’d say dat box was too heavy for me to fool wid. I wouldn’t tote
nothing heavier than my hat and I feel like I’m ’busing myself sometime
totin’ dat.
DAISY.
(Outraged) Don’t you mean to work none?
DAVE.
Wouldn’t hit a lick at a snake.
DAISY.
I don’t blame you, Dave (Looks down at his feet) cause toting dem feet
of yourn is enough to break down your constitution.
JIM.
(Airily) That’s all right ... dem foots done put plenty bread in our
moufs.
DAVE.
Not by they selves though ... wid de help of dat box, Jim. When you
gits having fits on dat box, boy, my foots has hysterics. Daisy, you
marry Jim cause I don’t want to come between y’all. He’s my buddy.
JIM.
Come to think of it, Dave, she was yourn first. You take and handle dat
spade for her.
DAVE.
You heard her say it is all I can do to lift up dese feets and put ’em
down. Where I’m going to git any time to wrassle wid any hoes and
shovels? You kin git round better’n me. You done won Daisy ... I give
in. I ain’t going to bite no fren’ of mine in de back.
DAISY.
Both of you niggers can git yo’ hat an’ yo’ heads and git on down de
road. Neither one of y’all don’t have to have me. I got a good job and
plenty men beggin for yo’ chance.
JIM.
Dat’s right, Daisy, you go git you one them mens whut don’t mind
smelling mules ... and beating de white folks to de barn every morning.
I don’t wanta be bothered wid nothin’ but dis box.
DAVE.
And I can’t strain wid nothin’ but my feets.
(DAISY walks slowly away in the direction from which she came. Both
watch her a little wistfully for a minute. The sun is setting.)
DAVE.
Guess I better be gittin’ on back ... it’s most dark. Where you goin’
Jim?
JIM.
I don’t know, Dave. Down de road, I reckon.
DAVE.
Whyncher come on back to town. ’Tain’t no use you proguein’ up and down
de railroad track when you got a home.
JIM.
They done lawed me way from it for hittin’ you wid dat bone.
DAVE.
Dat ain’t nothin’. It was my head you hit. An’ if I don’t keer whut dem
old ugly-rump niggers got to do wid it?
JIM.
They might not let me come in town.
DAVE.
(Seizing JIM’s arm and facing him back toward the town) They better!
Look here, Jim, if they try to keep you out dat town we’ll go out to
dat swamp and git us a mule bone a piece and come into town and boil
dat stew down to a low gravy.
JIM.
You mean dat, Dave? (DAVE nods his head eagerly) Us wasn’t mad wid one
’nother nohow. (Beligerently) Come on, less go back to town. Dem
mallet-heads better leave me be, too. (Picks up a heavy stick) I wish
Lum would come tellin’ me ’bout de law when I got all dis law in my
hands. And de rest o’ dem gator-faced jigs, if they ain’t got a whole
sto’ o’ mule bones and a good determination, they better not bring no
mess up. Come on, boy.
(THEY start back together toward town, JIM picking a dance tune on his
guitar, and DAVE cutting steps on the ties beside him, singing,
prancing and happily, they exit, right, as
THE CURTAIN FALLS.)