[Transcriber’s Note: A few obvious typo’s in stage directions have
been fixed, though nothing in the dialogue has been changed.]
JIM WESTON: Guitarist, Methodist, slightly arrogant, agressive, somewhat
self-important, ready with his tongue.
DAVE CARTER: Dancer, Baptist, soft, happy-go-lucky character, slightly dumb and
unable to talk rapidly and wittily.
DAISY TAYLOR.
Methodist, domestic servant, plump, dark and sexy, self-conscious
of clothes and appeal, fickle.
JOE CLARK.
The Mayor, storekeeper and postmaster, arrogant, ignorant and
powerful in a self-assertive way, large, fat man, Methodist.
ELDER SIMMS.
Methodist minister, newcomer in town, ambitious, small and fly,
but not very intelligent.
ELDER CHILDERS.
Big, loose-jointed, slow spoken but not dumb. Long resident in
the town, calm and sure of himself.
MRS. HATTIE CLARK.
The Mayor’s wife, fat and flabby mulatto high-pitched
voice.
THE MRS. REV. SIMMS.
Large and agressive.
THE MRS. REV. CHILDERS.
Just a wife who thinks of details.
LUM BOGER.
Young town marshall about twenty, tall, gangly, with big flat feet,
liked to show off in public.
WALTER THOMAS.
Another village wag.
MRS. DILCIE ANDERSON: Village housewife, Methodist.
WILLIE NIXON.
Methodist, short runt.
ACT ONE
SETTING: The raised porch of JOE CLARK’S Store and the street in front.
Porch stretches almost completely across the stage, with a plank bench at
either end. At the center of the porch three steps leading from street. Rear of
porch, center, door to the store. On either side are single windows on which
signs, at left, “POST OFFICE”, and at right, “GENERAL
STORE” are painted. Soap boxes, axe handles, small kegs, etc., on porch
on which townspeople sit and lounge during action. Above the roof of the porch
the “false front”, or imitation second story of the shop is seen
with large sign painted across it “JOE CLARK’S GENERAL
STORE”. Large kerosine street lamp on post at right in front of porch.
Saturday afternoon and the villagers are gathered around the store. Several men
sitting on boxes at edge of porch chewing sugar cane, spitting tobacco juice,
arguing, some whittling, others eating peanuts. During the act the women all
dressed up in starched dresses parade in and out of store. People buying
groceries, kids playing in the street, etc. General noise of conversation,
laughter and children shouting. But when the curtain rises there is momentary
lull for cane-chewing. At left of porch four men are playing cards on a soap
box, and seated on the edge of the porch at extreme right two children are
engaged in a checker game, with the board on the floor between them.
When the curtain goes up the following characters are discovered on the porch:
MAYOR JOE CLARK, the storekeeper; DEACON HAMBO; DEACON GOODWIN; Old Man MATT
BRAZZLE; WILL CODY; SYKES JONES; LUM BOGER, the young town marshall; LIGE
MOSELY and WALTER THOMAS, two village wags; TOM NIXON and SAM MOSELY, and
several others, seated on boxes, kegs, benches and floor of the porch. TONY
TAYLOR is sitting on steps of porch with empty basket. MRS. TAYLOR comes out
with her arms full of groceries, empties them into basket and goes back in
store. All the men are chewing sugar cane earnestly with varying facial
expressions. The noise of the breaking and sucking of cane can be clearly heard
in the silence. Occasionally the laughter and shouting of children is heard
nearby off stage.
HAMBO.
(To BRAZZLE) Say, Matt, gimme a jint or two of dat green cane—dis ribbon
cane is hard.
LIGE.
Yeah, and you ain’t got de chears in yo’ parlor you useter
have.
HAMBO.
Dat’s all right, Lige, but I betcha right now wid dese few teeth I
got I kin eat up more cane’n you kin grow.
LIGE.
I know you kin and that’s de reason I ain’t going to tempt
you. But youse gettin’ old in lots of ways—look at dat
bald-head—just as clean as my hand. (Exposes his palm).
HAMBO.
Don’t keer if it tis—I don’t want nothin’—not
even hair—between me and God. (General laughter—LIGE joins in as
well. Cane chewing keeps up. Silence for a moment.)
(Off stage a high shrill voice can be heard calling:)
VOICE.
Sister Mosely, Oh, Sister Mosely! (A pause) Miz Mosely! (Very irritated)
Oh, Sister Mattie! You hear me out here—you just won’t answer!
VOICE OF MRS. MOSELY.
Whoo-ee … somebody calling me?
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
(Angrily) Never mind now—you couldn’t come when I
called you. I don’t want yo’ lil ole weasley turnip greens.
(Silence)
MATT BRAZZLE.
Sister Roberts is en town agin! If she was mine, I’ll be
hen-fired if I wouldn’t break her down in de lines (loins)—good as
dat man is to her!
HAMBO.
I wish she was mine jes’ one day—de first time she open her mouf
to beg anybody, I’d lam her wid lightning.
JOE CLARK.
I God, Jake Roberts buys mo’ rations out dis store than any
man in dis town. I don’t see to my Maker whut she do wid it all…. Here
she come….
(ENTER MRS. JAKE ROBERTS, a heavy light brown woman with a basket on her arm. A
boy about ten walks beside her carrying a small child about a year old straddle
of his back. Her skirts are sweeping the ground. She walks up to the step, puts
one foot upon the steps and looks forlornly at all the men, then fixes her look
on JOE CLARK.)
MRS. ROBERTS.
Evenin’, Brother Mayor.
CLARK.
Howdy do, Mrs. Roberts. How’s yo’ husband?
MRS. ROBERTS.
(Beginning her professional whine): He ain’t much and I
ain’t much and my chillun is poly. We ain’t got ’nough to
eat! Lawd, Mr. Clark, gimme a lil piece of side meat to cook us a pot of
greens.
CLARK.
Aw gwan, Sister Roberts. You got plenty bacon home. Last week Jake
bought….
MRS. ROBERTS.
(Frantically) Lawd, Mist’ Clark, how long you think dat lil
piece of meat last me an’ my chillun? Lawd, me and my chillun is
hongry! God knows, Jake don’t fee-eed me!
(MR. CLARK sits unmoved. MRS. ROBERTS advances upon him)
Mist’ Clark!
CLARK.
I God, woman, don’t keep on after me! Every time I look, youse
round here beggin’ for everything you see.
LIGE.
And whut she don’t see she whoops for it just de same.
MRS. ROBERTS.
(In dramatic begging pose) Mist’ Clark! Ain’t you
boin’ do nuthin’ for me? And you see me and my poor chillun is
starvin’….
CLARK.
(Exasperated rises) I God, woman, a man can’t git no peace wid
somebody like you in town. (He goes angrily into the store followed by MRS.
ROBERTS. The boy sits down on the edge of the porch sucking the baby’s
thumb.)
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
A piece ’bout dis wide….
VOICE OF CLARK.
I God, naw! Yo’ husband done bought you plenty meat,
nohow.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
(In great anguish) Ow! Mist’ Clark! Don’t
you cut dat lil tee-ninchy piece of meat for me and my chillun! (Sound of
running feet inside the store.) I ain’t a going to tetch it!
VOICE OF CLARK.
Well, don’t touch it then. That’s all you’ll
git outa me.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
(Calmer) Well, hand it chear den. Lawd, me and my
chillun is so hongry…. Jake don’t fee-eed me. (She re-enters by
door of store with the slab of meat in her hand and an outraged look on her
face. She gazes all about her for sympathy.) Lawd, me and my poor chillun is
so hongry … and some folks has _every_thing and they’s so
stingy and gripin’…. Lawd knows, Jake don’t fee-eed me! (She
exits right on this line followed by the boy with the baby on his back.)
(All the men gaze behind her, then at each other and shake their heads.)
HAMBO.
Poor Jak…. I’m really sorry for dat man. If she was mine I’d
beat her till her ears hung down like a Georgy mule.
WALTER THOMAS.
I’d beat her till she smell like onions.
LIGE.
I’d romp on her till she slack like lime.
NIXON.
I’d stomp her till she rope like okra.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
(Off stage right) Lawd, Miz Lewis, you goin’ give
me dat lil han’ful of greens for me and my chillun. Why dat ain’t a
eye-full. I ought not to take ’em … but me and my chillun is so
hongry…. Some folks is so stingy and gripin’! Lawd knows, Tony
don’t feed me!
(The noise of cane-chewing is heard again. Enter JOE LINDSAY left with a gun
over his shoulder and the large leg bone of a mule in the other hand. He
approaches the step wearily.)
HAMBO.
Well, did you git any partridges, Joe?
JOE.
(Resting his gun and seating himself) Nope, but I made de feathers fly.
HAMBO.
I don’t see no birds.
JOE.
Oh, the feathers flew off on de birds.
LIGE.
I don’t see nothin’ but dat bone. Look lak you done kilt a
cow and et ’im raw out in de woods.
JOE.
Don’t y’all know dat hock-bone?
WALTER.
How you reckon we gointer know every hock-bone in Orange County sight
unseen?
JOE.
(Standing the bone up on the floor of the porch) Dis is a hock-bone of
Brazzle’s ole yaller mule.
(General pleased interest. Everybody wants to touch it.)
BRAZZLE.
(Coming forward) Well, sir! (Takes bone in both hands and looks up and
down the length of it) If ’tain’t my ole mule! This sho was one
hell of a mule, too. He’d fight every inch in front of de plow …
he’d turn over de mowing machine … run away wid de wagon … and you better
not look like you wanter ride ’im!
LINDSAY.
(Laughing) Yeah, I ’member seein’ you comin’ down de
road just so … (He limps wid one hand on his buttocks) one day.
BRAZZLE.
Dis mule was so evil he used to try to bite and kick when I’d go
in de stable to feed ’im.
WALTER.
He was too mean to git fat. He was so skinny you could do a
week’s washing on his ribs for a washboard and hang ’em up on his
hip-bones to dry.
LIGE.
I ’member one day, Brazzle, you sent yo’ boy to Winter Park
after some groceries wid a basket. So here he went down de road ridin’
dis mule wid dis basket on his arm…. Whut you reckon dat ole contrary mule done
when he got to dat crooked place in de road going round Park Lake? He turnt
right round and went through de handle of dat basket … wid de boy still up on
his back. (General laughter)
BRAZZLE.
Yeah, he up and died one Sat’day just for spite … but he was too
contrary to lay down on his side like a mule orter and die decent. Naw, he made
out to lay down on his narrer contracted back and die wid his feets sticking
straight up in de air just so. (He gets down on his back and illustrates.) We
drug him out to de swamp wid ’im dat way, didn’t we, Hambo?
JOE CLARK.
I God, Brazzle, we all seen it. Didn’t we all go to de
draggin’ out? More folks went to yo’ mule’s draggin’
out than went to last school closing…. Bet there ain’t been a thing right
in mule-hell for four years.
HAMBO.
Been dat long since he been dead?
CLARK.
I God, yes. He died de week after I started to cutting’ dat new
ground.
(The bone is passing from hand to hand. At last a boy about twelve takes it. He
has just walked up and is proudly handling the bone when a woman’s voice
is heard off stage right.)
VOICE.
Senator! Senator!! Oh, you Senator?
BOY.
(Turning displeased mutters) Aw, shux. (Loudly) Ma’m?
VOICE.
If you don’t come here you better!
SENATOR.
Yes ma’am. (He drops bone on ground down stage and trots off
frowning.) Soon as we men git to doing something dese wimmen…. (Exits, right.)
(Enter TEET and BOOTSIE left, clean and primped in voile dresses just alike.
They speak diffidently and enter store. The men admire them casually.)
LIGE.
Them girls done turned out to be right good-looking.
WALTER.
Teet ain’t as pretty now as she was a few years back. She used to
be fat as a butter ball wid legs just like two whiskey-kegs. She’s too
skinny since she got her growth.
CODY.
Ain’t none of ’em pretty as dat Miss Daisy. God! She’s
pretty as a speckled pup.
LIGE.
But she was sho nuff ugly when she was little … little ole hard black
knot. She sho has changed since she been away up North. If she ain’t
pretty now, there ain’t a hound dog in Georgy.
(Re-enter SENATOR BAILEY and stops on the steps. He addresses JOE CLARK.)
SENATOR.
Mist’ Clark….
HAMBO.
(To Senator) Ain’t you got no manners? We all didn’t sleep
wid you last night.
SENATOR.
(Embarrassed) Good evening, everybody.
ALL THE MEN.
Good evening, son, boy, Senator, etc.
SENATOR.
Mist’ Clark, mama said is Daisy been here dis evenin’?
JOE CLARK.
Ain’t laid my eyes on her. Ain’t she working over in
Maitland?
SENATOR.
Yessuh … but she’s off today and mama sent her down here to get
de groceries.
JOE CLARK.
Well, tell yo’ ma I ain’t seen her.
SENATOR.
Well, she say to tell you when she come, to tell her ma say she better
git home and dat quick.
JOE CLARK.
I will. (Exit BOY right.)
LIGE.
Bet she’s off somewhere wid Dave or Jim.
WALTER.
I don’t bet it … I know it. She’s got them two in de
go-long.
(Re-enter TEET and BOOTSIE from store. TEET has a letter and BOOTSIE two or
three small parcels. The men look up with interest as they come out on the
porch.)
WALTER.
(Winking) Whut’s dat you got, Teet … letter from Dave?
TEET.
(Flouncing) Naw indeed! It’s a letter from my B-I-T-sweetie! (Rolls
her eyes and hips.)
WALTER.
(Winking) Well, ain’t Dave yo’ B-I-T-sweetie? I thought
y’all was ’bout to git married. Everywhere I looked dis summer
’twas you and Dave, Bootsie and Jim. I thought all of y’all
would’ve done jumped over de broomstick by now.
TEET.
(Flourishing letter) Don’t tell it to me … tell it to the
ever-loving Mr. Albert Johnson way over in Apopka.
BOOTSIE.
(Rolling her eyes) Oh, tell ’em ’bout the ever-loving Mr.
Jimmy Cox from Altamont. Oh, I can’t stand to see my baby lose.
HAMBO.
It’s lucky y’all girls done got some more fellers, cause
look like Daisy done treed both Jim and Dave at once, or they done treed here
one.
TEET.
Let her have ’em … nobody don’t keer. They don’t handle
de “In God we trust” lak my Johnson. He’s head bellman at de
hotel.
BOOTSIE.
Mr. Cox got money’s grandma and old grandpa change. (The girls
exit huffily.)
LINDSAY.
(To HAMBO, pseudo-seriously) You oughtn’t tease dem gals lak
dat.
HAMBO.
Oh, I laks to see gals all mad. But dem boys is crazy sho nuff. Before
Daisy come back here they both had a good-looking gal a piece. Now they
’bout to fall out and fight over half a gal a piece. Neither one
won’t give over and let de other one have her.
LIGE.
And she ain’t thinking too much ’bout no one man. (Looks off
left.) Here she come now. God! She got a mean walk on her!
WALTER.
Yeah, man. She handles a lot of traffic! Oh, mama, throw it in de river
… papa’ll come git it!
LINDSAY.
Aw, shut up, you married men!
LIGE.
Man don’t go blind cause he gits married, do he? (Enter DAISY
hurriedly. Stops at step a moment. She is dressed in sheer organdie, white
shoes and stockings.)
DAISY.
Good evening, everybody. (Walks up on the porch.)
ALL THE MEN.
(Very pleasantly) Good evening, Miss Daisy.
DAISY.
(To CLARK) Mama sent me after some meal and flour and some bacon and
sausage oil.
CLARK.
Senator been here long time ago hunting you.
DAISY.
(Frightened) Did he? Oo … Mist’ Clark, hurry up and fix it for me.
(She starts on in the store.)
LINDSAY.
(Giving her his seat) You better wait here, Daisy.
(WALTER kicks LIGE to call his attention to LINDSAY’S attitude)
It’s powerful hot in dat store. Lemme run fetch ’em out to you.
LIGE.
(To LINDSAY) Run! Joe Lindsay, you ain’t been able to run
since de big bell rung. Look at dat gray beard.
LINDSAY.
Thank God, I ain’t gray all over. I’m just as good a man
right now as any of you young ’uns. (He hurries on into the store.)
WALTER.
Daisy, where’s yo’ two body guards? It don’t look
natural to see you thout nary one of ’em.
DAISY.
(Archly) I ain’t got no body guards. I don’t know what you
talkin’ about.
LIGE.
Aw, don’ try to come dat over us, Daisy. You know who we
talkin’ ’bout all right … but if you want me to come out flat
footed … where’s Jim and Dave?
DAISY.
Ain’t they playin’ somewhere for de white folks?
LIGE.
(To WALTER) Will you listen at dis gal, Walter? (To DAISY) When I
ain’t been long seen you and Dave going down to de Lake.
DAISY.
(Frightened) Don’t y’all run tell mama where I been.
WALTER.
Well, you tell us which one you laks de best and we’ll wipe our
mouf (Gesture) and say nothin’. Dem boys been de best of friends all they
life, till both of ’em took after you … then good-bye, Katy bar de door!
DAISY.
(Affected innocence) Ain’t they still playin’ and
dancin’ together?
LIGE.
Yeah, but that’s ’bout all they do ’gree on these days.
That’s de way it is wid men, young and old…. I don’t keer how long
they been friends and how thick they been … a woman kin come between ’em.
David and Jonather never would have been friends so long if Jonather had of
been any great hand wid de wimmen. You ain’t never seen no two roosters
that likes one another.
DAISY.
I ain’t tried to break ’em up.
WALTER.
Course you ain’t. You don’t have to. All two boys need to
do is to git stuck on de same girl and they done broke up … right now!
Wimmen is something can’t be divided equal.
(Re-enter JOE LINDSAY and CLARK with the groceries. DAISY jumps up and grabs
the packages.)
LIGE.
(To DAISY) Want some of us … me … to go long and tote yo’ things
for you?
DAISY.
(Nervously) Naw, mama is riding her high horse today. Long as I been
gone it wouldn’t do for me to come walking up wid nobody. (She exits
hurriedly right.)
(All the men watch her out of sight in silence.)
CLARK.
(Sighing) I God, know whut Daisy puts me in de mind of?
HAMBO.
No, what? (They all lean together.)
CLARK.
I God, a great big mango … a sweet smell, you know, Th a strong flavor,
but not something you could mash up like a strawberry. Something with a body to
it.
(General laughter, but not obscene.)
HAMBO.
(Admiringly) Joe Clark! I didn’t know you had it in you!
(MRS. CLARK enters from store door and they all straighten up guiltily)
CLARK.
(Angrily to his wife) Now whut do you want? I God, the minute I set
down, here you come….
MRS. CLARK.
Somebody want a stamp, Jody. You know you don’t ’low me
to bove wid de post office. (HE rises sullenly and goes inside the store.)
BRAZZLE.
Say, Hambo, I didn’t see you at our Sunday School picnic.
HAMBO.
(Slicing some plug-cut tobacco) Nope, wan’t there dis time.
WALTER.
Looka here, Hambo. Y’all Baptist carry dis close-communion
business too far. If a person ain’t half drownded in de lake and half et
up by alligators, y’all think he ain’t baptized, so you can’t
take communion wid him. Now I reckon you can’t even drink lemonade and
eat chicken perlow wid us.
HAMBO.
My Lord, boy, youse just full of words. Now, in de first place,
if this year’s picnic was lak de one y’all had last year … you
ain’t had no lemonade for us Baptists to turn down. You had a big ole
barrel of rain water wid about a pound of sugar in it and one lemon cut up over
de top of it.
LIGE.
Man, you sho kin mold ’em!
WALTER.
Well, I went to de Baptist picnic wid my mouf all set to eat chicken,
when lo and behold y’all had chitlings! Do Jesus!
LINDSAY.
Hold on there a minute. There was plenty chicken at dat picnic, which
I do know is right.
WALTER.
Only chicken I seen was half a chicken yo’ pastor musta tried to
swaller whole cause he was choked stiff as a board when I come long … wid de
whole deacon’s board beating him in de back, trying to knock it out his
throat.
LIGE.
Say, dat puts me in de mind of a Baptist brother that was crazy
’bout de preachers and de preacher was crazy ’bout feeding his
face. So his son got tired of trying to beat dese stump-knockers to de grub on
the table, so one day he throwed out some slams ’bout dese preachers. Dat
made his old man mad, so he tole his son to git out. He boy ast him
“Where must I go, papa?” He says, “Go on to hell I reckon … I
don’t keer where you go.”
So de boy left and was gone seven years. He come back one cold, windy night and
rapped on de door. “Who dat?” de old man ast him “It’s
me, Jack.” De old man opened de door, so glad to see his son agin, and
tole Jack to come in. He did and looked all round de place. Seven or eight
preachers was sitting round de fire eatin’ and drinkin’.
“Where you been all dis time, Jack?” de old man ast him.
“I been to hell,” Jack tole him.
“Tell us how it is down there, Jack.”
“Well,” he says, “It’s just like it is here … you
cain’t git to de fire for de preachers.”
HAMBO.
Boy, you kin lie just like de cross-ties from Jacksonville to Key West.
De presidin’ elder must come round on his circuit teaching y’all
how to tell ’em, cause you couldn’t lie dat good just natural.
WALTER.
Can’t nobody beat Baptist folks lying … and I ain’t never
found out how come you think youse so important.
LINDSAY.
Ain’t we got de finest and de biggest church? Macedonia Baptist
will hold more folks than any two buildings in town.
LIGE.
Thass right, y’all got a heap more church than you got members to
go in it.
HAMBO.
Thass all right … y’all ain’t got neither de church nor de
members. Everything that’s had in this town got to be held in our church.
(Re-enter JOE CLARK.)
CLARK.
What you-all talkin’?
HAMBO.
Come on out, Tush Hawg, lemme beat you some checkers. I’m tired of
fending and proving wid dese boys ain’t got no hair on they chest yet.
CLARK.
I God, you mean you gointer get beat. You can’t handle me …
I’m a tush hawg.
HAMBO.
Well, I’m going to draw dem tushes right now. (To two small boys
using checker board on edge of porch.) Here you chilluns, let de Mayor and me
have that board. Go on out an’ play an’ give us grown folks a
little peace. (The children go down stage and call out:)
SMALL BOY.
Hey, Senator. Hey, Marthy. Come on let’s play chick-me,
chick-me, cranie-crow.
CHILD’S VOICE.
(Off stage) All right! Come on, Jessie! (Enter several
children, led by SENATOR, and a game begins in front of the store as JOE CLARK
and HAMBO play checkers.)
JOE CLARK.
I God! Hambo, you can’t play no checkers.
HAMBO.
(As they seat themselves at the check board) Aw, man, if you
wasn’t de Mayor I’d beat you all de time.
(The children get louder and louder, drowning out the men’s voices.)
SMALL GIRL.
I’m gointer be de hen.
BOY.
And I’m gointer be de hawk. Lemme git maself a stick to mark wid.
(The boy who is the hawk squats center stage with a short twig in his hand. The
largest girl lines up the other children behind her.)
GIRL.
(Mother Hen) (Looking back over her flock): Y’all ketch holt of one
’Nother’s clothes so de hawk can’t git yuh. (They do.) You
all straight now?
CHILDREN.
Yeah. (The march around the hawk commences.)
HEN AND CHICKS:
Chick mah chick mah craney crow
Went to de well to wash ma toe
When I come back ma chick was gone
What time, ole witch?
HAWK.
(Making a tally on the ground) One!
HEN AND CHICKS.
(Repeat song and march.)
HAWK.
(Scoring again) Two!
(Can be repeated any number of times.)
HAWK.
Four. (He rises and imitates a hawk flying and trying to catch a chicken.
Calling in a high voice:) Chickee.
HEN.
(Flapping wings to protect her young) My chickens sleep.
HAWK.
Chickee. (During all this the hawk is feinting and darting in his efforts
to catch a chicken, and the chickens are dancing defensively, the hen trying to
protect them.)
HEN.
My chicken’s sleep.
HAWK.
I shall have a chick.
HEN.
You shan’t have a chick.
HAWK.
I’m goin’ home. (Flies off)
HEN.
Dere’s de road.
HAWK.
My pot’s a boilin’.
HEN.
Let it boil.
HAWK.
My guts a growlin’.
HEN.
Let ’em growl.
HAWK.
I must have a chick.
HEN.
You shan’t have n’airn.
HAWK.
My mama’s sick.
HEN.
Let her die.
HAWK.
Chickie!
HEN.
My chicken’s sleep.
(HAWK darts quickly around the hen and grabs a chicken and leads him off and
places his captive on his knees at the store porch. After a brief bit of
dancing he catches another, then a third, etc.)
HAMBO.
(At the checker board, his voice rising above the noise of the playing
children, slapping his sides jubilantly) Ha! Ha! I got you now. Go ahead on and
move, Joe Clark … jus’ go ahead on and move.
LOUNGERS.
(Standing around two checker players) Ol’ Deacon’s got
you now.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Don’t see how he can beat the Mayor like that.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Got him in the Louisville loop. (These remarks are drowned by
the laughter of the playing children directly in front of the porch. MAYOR JOE
CLARK disturbed in his concentration on the checkers and peeved at being beaten
suddenly turns toward the children, throwing up his hands.)
CLARK.
Get on ’way from here, you limbs of Satan, making all that racket
so a man can’t hear his ears. Go on, go on!
(THE MAYOR looks about excitedly for the town marshall. Seeing him playing
cards on the other side of porch, he bellows:)
Lum Boger, whyn’t you git these kids away from here! What kind of a
marshall is you? All this passle of young’uns around here under grown
people’s feet, creatin’ disorder in front of my store.
(LUM BOGER puts his cards down lazily, comes down stage and scatters the
children away. One saucy little girl refuses to move.)
LUM BOGER.
Why’nt you go on away from here, Matilda? Didn’t you
hear me tell you-all to move?
LITTLE MATILDA.
(Defiantly) I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You ain’t
none of my mama. (Jerking herself free from him as LUM touches her.) My mama in
the store and she told me to wait out here. So take that, ol’ Lum.
LUM BOGER.
You impudent little huzzy, you! You must smell yourself … youse so
fresh.
MATILDA.
The wind musta changed and you smell your own top lip.
LUM BOGER.
Don’t make me have to grab you and take you down a buttonhole
lower.
MATILDA.
(Switching her little head) Go ahead on and grab me. You sho
can’t kill me, and if you kill me, you sho can’t eat me. (She
marches into the store.)
SENATOR.
(Derisively from behind stump) Ol’ dumb Lum! Hey! Hey!
(LITTLE BOY at edge of stage thumbs his nose at the marshall.)
(LUM lumbers after the small boy. Both exit.)
HAMBO.
(To CLARK who has been thinking all this while what move to make) You
ain’t got but one move … go ahead on and make it. What’s de matter,
Mayor?
CLARK.
(Moving his checker) Aw, here.
HAMBO.
(Triumphant) Now! Look at him, boys. I’m gonna laugh in notes.
(Laughing to the scale and jumping a checker each time) Do, sol, fa, me, lo …
one! (Jumping another checker) La, sol, fa, me, do … two! (Another jump.) Do
sol, re, me, lo … three! (Jumping a third.) Lo sol, fa, me, re … four! (The
crowd begins to roar with laughter. LUM BOGER returns, looking on. Children
come drifting back again playing chick-me-chick-me-cranie crow.)
VOICE.
Oh, ha! Done got the ol’ tush hog.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Thought you couldn’t be beat, Brother Mayor?
CLARK.
(Peeved, gets up and goes into the store mumbling) Oh, I coulda beat you
if I didn’t have this store on my mind. Saturday afternoon and I got work
to do. Lum, ain’t I told you to keep them kids from playin’ right
in front of this store?
(LUM makes a pass at the nearest half-grown boy. The kids dart around him
teasingly.)
ANOTHER VOICE.
Eh, heh…. Hambo done run him on his store … done run the
ol’ coon in his hole.
ANOTHER VOICE.
That ain’t good politics, Hambo, beatin’ the Mayor.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Well, Hambo, you don’t got to be so hard at checkers, come
on let’s see what you can do with de cards. Lum Boger there got his hands
full nursin’ the chilluns.
ANOTHER VOICE.
(At the table) We ain’t playin’ for money, nohow,
Deacon. We just playin’ a little Florida Flip.
HAMBO.
Ya all can’t play no Florida Flip. When I was a sinner there
wasn’t a man in this state could beat me playin’ that game. But
I’m a deacon in Macedonia Baptist now and I don’t bother with the
cards no more.
VOICE AT CARD TABLE.
All right, then, come on here Tony (To man with basket on
steps.) let me catch your jack.
TAYLOR.
(Looking toward door) I don’t reckon I got time. I guess my wife
gonna get through buying out that store some time or other and want to go home.
OLD MAN.
(On opposite side of porch from card game) I bet my wife would know
better than expect me to sit around and wait for her with a basket.
Whyn’t you tell her to tote it on home herself?
TAYLOR.
(Sighing and shaking his head.) Eh, Lawd!
VOICE AT CARD TABLE.
Look like we can’t get nobody to come into this
game. Seem like everybody’s scared a us. Come on back here, Lum, and take
your hand. (LUM makes a final futile gesture at the children.)
LUM.
Ain’t I tole you little haitians to stay away from here?
(CHILDREN scatter teasingly only to return to their play in front of the store
later on. LUM comes up on the porch and re-joins the card game. Just as he gets
seated, MRS. CLARK comes to the door of the store and calls him.)
MRS. CLARK.
(Drawlingly) Columbus!
LUM.
(Wearily) Ma’am?
MRS. CLARK.
De Mayor say for you to go round in de back yard and tie up old
lady Jackson’s mule what’s trampin’ aup all de tomatoes in my
garden.
LUM.
All right. (Leaving card game.) Wait till I come back, folkses.
LIGE.
Oh, hum! (Yawning and putting down the deck of cards) Lum’s sho a
busy marshall. Say, ain’t Dave and Jim been round here yet? I feel kinder
like hearin’ a little music ’bout now.
BOY.
Naw, they ain’t been here today. You-all know they ain’t so
thick nohow as they was since Daisy Bailey come back and they started
runnin’ after her.
WOMAN.
You mean since she started runnin’ after them, the young hussy.
MRS. CLARK.
(In doorway) She don’t mean ’em no good.
WALTER.
That’s a shame, ain’t it now? (Enter LUM from around back
of store. He jumps on the porch and takes his place at the card box.)
LUM.
(To the waiting players) All right, boys! Turn it on and let the bad luck
happen.
LIGE.
My deal. (He begins shuffling the cards with an elaborate fan-shape
movement.)
VOICE AT TABLE.
Look out there, Lige, you shuffling mighty lot. Don’t
carry the cub to us.
LIGE.
Aw, we ain’t gonna cheat you … we gonna beat you. (He slams down
the cards for LUM BOGER to cut.) Wanta cut ’em?
LUM.
No, ain’t no need of cutting a rabbit out when you can twist him
out. Deal ’em. (LIGE deals out the cards.)
CLARK’S VOICE.
(Inside the store) You, Mattie! (MRS. CLARK, who has been
standing in the DOE, quickly turns and goes inside.)
LIGE.
Y-e-e-e! Spades! (The game is started.)
LUM.
Didn’t snatch that jack, did you?
LIGE.
Aw, no, ain’t snatched no jack. Play.
WALTER.
(LUM’S partner) Well, here it is, partner. What you want me to
play for you?
LUM.
Play jus’ like I’m in New York, partner. But we gotta try to
catch that jack.
LIGE.
(Threateningly) Stick out your hand and draw back a nub.
(WALTER THOMAS plays.)
WALTER.
I’m playin’ a diamond for you, partner.
LUM.
I done tole you you ain’t got no partner.
LIGE.
Heh, Heh! Partner, we got ’em. Pull off wid your king. Dey got to
play ’em. (When that trick is turned, triumphantly:) Didn’t I tell
you, partner? (Stands on his feet and slams down with his ace violently) Now,
come up under this ace. Aw, hah, look at ol’ low, partner. I knew I was
gonna catch ’em. (When LUM plays) Ho, ho, there goes the queen…. Now, the
jack’s a gentleman…. Now, I’m playin’ my knots. (Everybody
plays and the hand is ended.) Partner, high, low, jack and the game and four.
WALTER.
Give me them cards. I believe you-all done give me the cub that time.
Look at me … this is Booker T Washington dealing these cards. (Shuffles cards
grandly and gives them to LIGE to cut.) Wanta cut ’em?
LIGE.
Yeah, cut ’em and shoot ’em. I’d cut behind my ma. (He
cuts the cards.)
WALTER.
(Turning to player at left, FRANK, LIGE’S partner) What you
saying, Frank?
FRANK.
I’m beggin’. (LIGE is trying to peep at cards.)
WALTER.
(Turning to LIGE) Stop peepin’ at them cards, Lige. (To FRANK)
Did you say you was beggin’ or standin’?
FRANK.
I’m beggin’.
WALTER.
Get up off your knees. Go ahead and tell ’em I sent you.
FRANK.
Well, that makes us four.
WALTER.
I don’t care if you is. (Pulls a quarter out of his pocket and
lays it down on the box.) Twenty-five cents says I know the best one.
Let’s go. (Everybody puts down a quarter.)
FRANK.
What you want me to play for you partner?
LIGE.
Play me a club. (The play goes around to dealer, WALTER, who gets up and
takes the card off the top of the deck and slams it down on the table.)
WALTER.
Get up ol’ deuce of deamonds and gallop off with your load. (TO
LUM) Partner, how many times you seen the deck?
LUM.
Two times.
WALTER.
Well, then I’m gonna pull off, partner. Watch this ol’
queen. (Everyone plays) Ha! Ha! Wash day and no soap. (Takes the jack of
diamonds and sticks him up on his forehead. Stands up on his feet.) Partner,
I’m dumping to you … play your king. (When it comes to his play LUM, too,
stands up. The others get up and they, too, excitedly slam their cards down.)
Now, come on in this kitchen and let me splice that cabbage! (He slams down the
ace of diamonds. Pats the jack on his for head, sings:) Hey, hey, back up,
jenny, get your load. (Talking) Dump to that jack, boys, dump to it. High, low,
jack and the game and four. One to go. We’re four wid you, boys.
LIGE.
Yeah, but you-all playin’ catch-up.
FRANK.
Gimme them cards … lemme deal some.
LIGE.
Frank, now you really got responsibility on you. They’s got one
game on us.
FRANK.
Aw, man, I’m gonna deal ’em up a mess. This deal’s in
the White House. (He shuffles and puts the cards down for WALTER to cut.) Cut
’em.
WALTER.
Nope, I never cut green timber. (FRANK deals and turns the card up.)
FRANK.
Hearts, boys. (He turns up an ace.)
LUM.
Aw, you snatched that ace, nigger.
WALTER.
Yeah, they done carried the cub to us, partner.
LIGE.
Oh, he didn’t do no such a thing. That ace was turned fair. We
jus’ too hard for you … we eats our dinner out a the blacksmith shop.
WALTER.
Aw, you all cheatin’. You know it wasn’t fair.
FRANK.
Aw, shut up, you all jus’ whoopin’ and hollerin’ for
nothin’. Tryin’ to bully the game. (FRANK and LIGE rise and shake
hands grandly.)
LIGE.
Mr. Hoover, you sho is a noble president. We done stuck these niggers
full of cobs. They done got scared to play us.
LIGE (?) Scared to play you? Get back down to this table, let me spread my
mess.
LOUNGER.
Yonder comes Elder Simms. You all better squat that rabbit.
They’ll be having you all up in the church for playin’ cards.
(FRANK grabs up the cards and puts them in his pocket quickly. Everybody picks
up the money and looks unconcerned as the preacher enters. Enter ELDER SIMMS
with his two prim-looking little children by the hand.)
ELDER SIMMS.
How do, children. Right warm for this time in November,
ain’t it?
VOICE.
Yes sir, Reverend, sho is. How’s Sister Simms?
SIMMS.
She’s feelin’ kinda po’ly today. (Goes on in store
with his children)
VOICE.
(Whispering loudly) Don’t see how that great big ole powerful
woman could be sick. Look like she could go bear huntin’ with her fist.
ANOTHER VOICE.
She look jus’ as good as you-all’s Baptist
pastor’s wife. Pshaw, you ain’t seen no big woman, nohow, man. I
seen one once so big she went to whip her little boy and he run up under her
belly and hid six months ’fore she could find him.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Well, I knowed a woman so little that she had to get up on a
soap box to look over a grain of sand.
(REV. SIMMS comes out of store, each child behind him sucking a stick of
candy.)
SIMMS.
(To his children) Run on home to your mother and don’t get dirty
on the way. (The two children start primly off down the street but just out of
sight one of them utters a loud cry.)
SIMMS’S CHILD.
(Off stage) Papa, papa. Nunkie’s trying to lick my
candy.
SIMMS.
I told you to go on and leave them other children alone.
VOICE ON PORCH.
(Kidding) Lum, whyn’t you tend to your business.
(TOWN MARSHALL rises and shoos the children off again.)
LUM.
You all varmints leave them nice chillun alone.
LIGE.
(Continuing the lying on porch) Well, you all done seen so much, but I
bet you ain’t never seen a snake as big as the one I saw when I was a boy
up in middle Georgia. He was so big couldn’t hardly move his self. He
laid in one spot so long he growed moss on him and everybody thought he was a
log, till one day I set down on him and went to sleep, and when I woke up that
snake done crawled to Florida. (Loud laughter.)
FRANK.
(Seriously) Layin’ all jokes aside though now, you all remember
that rattlesnake I killed last year was almost as big as that Georgia snake.
VOICE.
How big, you say it was, Frank?
FRANK.
Maybe not quite as big as that, but jus’ about fourteen feet.
VOICE.
(Derisively) Gimme that lyin’ snake. That snake wasn’t but
four foot long when you killed him last year and you done growed him ten feet
in a year.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Well, I don’t know about that. Some of the snakes around
here is powerful long. I went out in my front yard yesterday right after the
rain and killed a great big ol’ cottonmouth.
SIMMS.
This sho is a snake town. I certainly can’t raise no chickens for
’em. They kill my little biddies jus’ as fast as they hatch out.
And yes … if I hadn’t cut them weeds out of the street in front of my
parsonage, me or some of my folks woulda been snake-bit right at our front
door. (To whole crowd) Whyn’t you all cut down these weeds and clean up
these streets?
HAMBO.
Well, the Mayor ain’t said nothin’ ’bout it.
SIMMS.
When the folks misbehaves in this town I think they oughta lock
’em up in a jail and make ’em work their fine out on the streets,
then these weeds would be cut down.
VOICE.
How we gonna do that when we ain’t got no jail?
SIMMS.
Well, you sho needs a jail … you-all needs a whole lot of improvements
round this town. I ain’t never pastored no town so way-back as this one
here.
CLARK.
(Who has lately emerged from the store, fanning himself, overhears this
last remark and bristles up) What’s that you say ’bout this town?
SIMMS.
I say we needs some improvements here in this town … that’s what.
CLARK.
(In a powerful voice) And what improvements you figgers we needs?
SIMMS.
A whole heap. Now, for one thing we really does need a jail, Mayor. We
oughta stop runnin’ these people out of town that misbehaves, and lock
’em up. Others towns has jails, everytown I ever pastored had a jail.
Don’t see how come we can’t have one.
CLARK.
(Towering angrily above the preacher) Now, wait a minute, Simms.
Don’t you reckon the man who knows how to start a town knows how to run
it? I paid two hundred dollars out of this right hand for this land and walked
out here and started this town befo’ you was born. I ain’t like
some of you new niggers, come here when grapes’ ripe. I was here to cut
new ground, and I been Mayor ever since.
SIMMS.
Well, there ain’t no sense in no one man stayin’ Mayor all
the time.
CLARK.
Well, it’s my town and I can be mayor jus’ as long as I want
to. It was me that put this town on the map.
SIMMS.
What map you put it on, Joe Clark? I ain’t seen it on no map.
CLARK.
(Indignant) I God! Listen here, Elder Simms. If you don’t like the
way I run this town, just’ take your flat feets right on out and git
yonder crost the woods. You ain’t been here long enough to say
nothin’ nohow.
HAMBO.
(From a nail keg) Yeah, you Methodist niggers always telling people how
to run things.
TAYLOR.
(Practically unheard by the others) We do so know how to run things,
don’t we? Ain’t Brother Mayor a Methodist, and ain’t the
school-teacher a …? (His remarks are drowned out by the others.)
SIMMS.
No, we don’t like the way you’re runnin’ things. Now
looka here, (Pointing at the Marshall) You got that lazy Lum Boger here for
marshall and he ain’t old enough to be dry behind his ears yet … and all
these able-bodied means in this town! You won’t ’low nobody else to
run a store ’ceptin’ you. And looka yonder (happening to notice the
street light) only street lamp in town, you got in front of your place.
(Indignantly) We pay the taxes and you got the lamp.
VILLAGER.
Don’t you-all fuss now. How come you two always yam-yamming at
each other?
CLARK.
How come this fly-by-night Methodist preacher over here … ain’t
been here three months … tries to stand up on my store porch and tries to tell
me how to run my town? (MATTIE CLARK, the Mayor’s wife, comes timidly to
the door, wiping her hands on her apron.) Ain’t no man gonna tell me how
to run my town. I God, I ’lected myself in and I’m gonna run it.
(Turns and sees wife standing in door. Commandingly.) I God, Mattie, git on
back in there and wait on that store!
MATTIE.
(Timidly) Jody, somebody else wantin’ stamps.
CLARK.
I God, woman, what good is you? Gwan, git in. Look like between women
and preachers a man can’t have no peace. (Exit CLARK.)
SIMMS.
(Continuing his argument) Now, when I pastored in Jacksonville you
oughta see what kinda jails they got there….
LOUNGER.
White folks needs jails. We colored folks don’t need no jail.
ANOTHER VILLAGER.
Yes, we do, too. Elder Simms is right….
(The argument becomes a hubbub of voices.)
TAYLOR.
(Putting down his basket) Now, I tell you a jail….
MRS. TAYLOR.
(Emerging from the store door, arms full of groceries, looking at
her husband) Yeah, and if you don’t shut up and git these rations home
I’m gonna be worse on you than a jail and six judges. Pickup that basket
and let’s go. (TONY meekly picks up the basket and he and his wife exit
as the sound of an approaching guitar is heard off stage.)
(Two carelessly dressed, happy-go-lucky fellows enter together. One is
fingering a guitar without playing any particular tune, and the other has his
hat cocked over his eyes in a burlesque, dude-like manner. There are casual
greetings.)
WALTER.
Hey, there, bums, how’s tricks?
LIGE.
What yo’ sayin’, boys?
HAMBO.
Good evenin’ sons.
LIGE.
How did you-all make out this evenin’, boys?
JIM.
Oh, them white folks at the party shelled out right well. Kept Dave busy
pickin’ it up. How much did we make today, Dave?
DAVE.
(Striking his pocket) I don’t know, boy, but feels right heavy
here. Kept me pickin’ up money just like this…. (As JIM picks a few dance
chords, Dave gives a dance imitation of how he picked up the coins from the
ground as the white folks threw them.) We count it after while. Woulda divided
up with you already if you hadn’t left me when you seen Daisy
comin’ by. Let’s sit down on the porch and rest now.
LIGE.
She sho is lookin’ stylish and pretty since she come back with her
white folks from up North. Wearin’ the swellest clothes. And that
coal-black hair of hers jus’ won’t quit.
MATTIE CLARK.
(In doorway) I don’t see what the mens always hanging after
Daisy Taylor for.
CLARK.
(Turning around on the porch) I God, you back here again. Who’s
tendin’ that store? (MATTIE disappears inside.)
DAVE.
Well, she always did look like new money to me when she was here before.
JIM.
Well, that’s all you ever did get was a look.
DAVE.
That’s all you know! I bet I get more than that now.
JIM.
You might git it but I’m the man to use it. I’m a bottom fish.
DAVE.
Aw, man. You musta been walking round here fast asleep when Daisy was in
this county last. You ain’t seen de go I had with her.
JIM.
No, I ain’t seen it. Bet you didn’t have no letter from her
while she been away.
DAVE.
Bet you didn’t neither.
JIM.
Well, it’s just cause she can’t write. If she knew how to
scratch with a pencil I’d had a ton of ’em.
DAVE.
Shaw, man! I’d had a post office full of ’em.
OLD WOMAN.
You-all ought to be shame, carrying on over a brazen heifer like
Daisy Taylor. Jus’ cause she’s been up North and come back, I
reckon you cutting de fool sho ’nough now. She ain’t studying none
of you-all nohow. All she wants is what you got in your pocket.
JIM.
I likes her but she won’t git nothin’ outa me. She never did.
I wouldn’t give a poor consumpted cripple crab a crutch to cross the
River Jurdon.
DAVE.
I know I ain’t gonna give no woman nothin’. I wouldn’t
give a dog a doughnut if he treed a terrapin.
LIGE.
Youse a cottontail dispute … both of you. You’d give her anything
you got. You’d give her Georgia with a fence ’round it.
OLD MAN.
Yeah, and she’d take it, too.
LINDSAY.
Don’t distriminate the woman like that. That ain’t nothing
but hogism. Ain’t nothin’ the matter with Daisy, she’s all
right.
(Enter TEETS and BOOTSIE tittering coyly and switching themselves.)
BOOTSIE.
Is you seen my mama?
OLD WOMAN.
You know you ain’t lookin’ for no mama. Jus’ come
back down here to show your shape and fan around awhile. (BOOTSIE and TEETS
going into the store.)
BOOTSIE & TEETS.
No, we ain’t. We’se come to get our mail.
OLD WOMAN.
(After girls enter store) Why don’t you all keep up some
attention to these nice girls here, Bootsie and Teets. They wants to marry.
DAVE.
Aw, who thinkin’ ’bout marryin’ now? They better stay
home and eat their own pa’s rations. I gotta buy myself some shoes.
JIM.
The woman I’m gonna marry ain’t born yet and her maw is dead.
(GIRLS come out giggling and exit.) (JIM begins to strum his guitar lightly at
first as the talk goes on.)
CLARK.
(To DAVE and JIM) Two of the finest gals that ever lived and friendly
jus’ like you-all is. You two boys better take ’em back and stop
them shiftless ways.
HAMBO.
Yeah, hurry up and do somethin’! I wants to taste a piece
yo’ weddin’ cake.
JIM.
(Embarrassed but trying to be jocular) Whut you trying to rush me up so
fast?… Look at Will Cody here (Pointing to little man on porch) he been
promising to bring his already wife down for two months … and nair one of us
ain’t seen her yet.
DAVE.
Yeah, how you speck me to haul in a brand new wife when he can’t
lead a wagon-broke wife eighteen miles? Me, I’m going git one
soon’s Cody show me his’n. (General sly laughter at CODY’S
expense.)
WALTER.
(Snaps his fingers and pretends to remember something) Thass right,
Cody. I been intending to tell you…. I know where you kin buy a ready-built
house for you and yo’ wife. (Calls into the store.) Hey, Clark, cime on
out here and tell Cody ’bout dat Bradley house. (To CODY.) I know you
wants to git a place of yo’ own so you kin settle down.
HAMBO.
He done moved so much since he been here till every time he walk out in
his back yeard his chickens lay down and cross they legs.
LINDSAY.
Cody, I thought you tole us you was going up to Sanford to bring dat
’oman down here last Sat’day.
LIGE.
That ain’t de way he tole me ’bout it. Look, fellers,
(Getting up and putting one hand on his hips and one finger of the other hand
against his chin coquettishly) Where you reckon I’ll be next
Sat’day night?… Sittin’ up side of Miz Cody. (Great burst of
laughter.)
SYKES JONES.
(Laughing) Know what de folks tole me in Sanford? Dat was another
man’s wife. (Guffaws.)
CODY.
(Feebly) Aw, you don’t know whut you talkin’ bout.
JONES.
Naw, I don’t know, but de folks in Sanford does. (Laughing) Dey
tell me when dat lady’s husband come home Sat’day night, ole Cody
jumped out de window. De man grabbed his old repeater and run out in de yard to
head him off. When Cody seen him come round de corner de house (Gesture) he
flopped his wings and flew up on de fence. De man thowed dat shotgun dead on
him. (Laughs) Den, man! Cody flopped his wings lak a buzzard (Gesture) and
sailed on off. De man dropped to his knees lak dis (Gesture of kneeling on one
knee and taking aim) Die! die! die! (Supposedly sound of shots as the gun is
moved in a circle following the course of Cody’s supposed flight) Cody
just flew right on off and lit on a hill two miles off. Then, man! (Gesture of
swift flight) In ten minutes he was back here in Eatonville and in he bed.
WALTER.
I passed there and seen his house shakin’, but I didn’t
know how come.
HAMBO.
Aw, leave de boy alone…. If you don’t look out some of y’all
going to have to break his record.
LIGE.
I’m prepared to break it now. (General laughter.)
JIM.
Well, anyhow, I don’t want to marry and leave Dave … yet awhile.
(Picking a chord.)
DAVE.
And I ain’t gonna leave Jim. We been palling around together ever
since we hollered titty mama, ain’t we, boy?
JIM.
Sho is. (Music of the guitar increases in volume. DAVE shuffles a few
steps and the two begin to sing.)
JIM:
Rabbit on the log.
I ain’t got no dog.
How am I gonna git him?
God knows.
DAVE:
Rabbit on the log.
Ain’t got no dog.
Shoot him with my rifle
Bam! Bam!
(Some of the villagers join in song and others get up and march around the
porch in time with the music. BOOTSIE and TEETS re-enter, TEETS sticking her
letter down the neck of her blouse. JOE LINDSAY grabs TEETS and WALTER THOMAS
grabs BOOTSIE. There is dancing, treating and general jollification. Little
children dance the parse-me-la. The music fills the air just as the sun begins
to go down. Enter DAISY TAYLOR coming down the road toward the store.)
CLARK.
(Bawls out from the store porch) I God, there’s Daisy again.
(Most of the dancing stops, the music slows down and then stops completely.
DAVE and JIM greet DAISY casually as she approaches the porch.)
JIM.
Well, Daisy, we knows you, too.
DAVE.
Gal, youse jus’ as pretty as a speckled pup.
DAISY.
(Giggling) I see you two boys always playin’and singin’
together. That music sounded right good floating down the road.
JIM.
Yeah, child, we’se been playin’for the white folks all week.
We’se playin’for the colored now.
DAVE.
(Showing off, twirling his dancing feet) Yeah, we’re
standin’on our abstract and livin’on our income.
OLD MAN.
Um-ump, but they ain’t never workin’. Just round here
playing as usual.
JIM.
Some folks think you ain’t workin’lessen you smellin’a
mule. (He sits back down on box and picks at his guitar.) Think you gotta be
beatin’a man to his barn every mornin’.
VOICE.
Glad to be round home with we-all again, ain’t you Daisy?
DAISY.
Is I glad? I jus’ got off special early this evenin’to come
over here and see everybody. I was kinda ’fraid sundown would catch me
’fore I got round that lake. Don’t know how I’m gonna walk
back to my workin’place in the dark by muself.
DAVE.
Don’t no girl as good-lookin’as you is have to go home by
herself tonight.
JIM.
No, cause I’m here.
DAVE.
(To DAISY) Don’t you trust yourself round that like wid all them
’gators and moccasins with that nigger there, Daisy (Pointing at JIM)
He’s jus’ full of rabbit blood. What you need is a real man … with
good feet. (Cutting a dance step.)
DAISY.
I ain’t thinking ’bout goin’home yet. I’m
goin’in the store.
JIM.
What you want in the store?
DAISY.
I want some gum.
DAVE.
(Starting toward door) Girl, you don’t have to go in there to git
no gum. I’ll go in there and buy you a carload of gum. What kind you
want?
DAISY.
Bubble gum. (DAVE goes in the store with his hand in his pocket. The sun
is setting and the twilight deepens.)
JIM.
(Pulling package out of his pocket and laughing) Here your gum, baby. What
it takes to please the ladies, I totes it. I don’t have to go get it,
like Dave. What you gimme for it?
DAISY.
A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck. (She embraces JIM
playfully. He hands her the gum, patting his shoulder as he sits on box.) Oh,
thank you. Youse a ready man.
JIM.
Yeah, there’s a lot of good parts to me. You can have West Tampa if
you want it.
DAISY.
You always was a nice quiet boy, Jim.
DAVE.
(Emerging from the store with a package of gum) Here’s your gum,
Daisy.
JIM.
Oh, youse late. She’s done got gum now. Chaw that yourself.
DAVE.
(Slightly peeved and surprised) Hunh, you mighty fast here now with Daisy
but you wasn’t that fast gettin’out of that white man’s
chicken house last week.
JIM.
Who you talkin’’bout?
DAVE.
Hoo-oo? (Facetiously) You ain’t no owl. Your feet don’t fit
no limb.
JIM.
Aw, nigger, hush.
DAVE.
Aw, hush, yourself. (He walks away for a minute as DAISY turns to meet
some newcomers. DAVE throws his package of gum down on the ground. It breaks
and several children scramble for the pieces. An old man, very drunk, carrying
an empty jug enters on left and staggers tipsily across stage.) (MAYOR JOE
CLARK emerges from the store and looks about for his marshall.)
CLARK.
(Bellowing) Lum Boger!
LUM BOGER.
(Eating a stalk of cane) Yessir!
CLARK.
I God, Lum, take your lazy self off that keg and go light that town
lamp. All summer long you eatin’up my melon, and all winter long you
chawin’up my cane. What you think this town is payin’you for?
Laying round here doin’nothin’? Can’t you see it’s
gettin’dark?
(LUM BOGER rises lazily and takes the soap box down stage, stands on it to
light the lamp, discovers no oil in it and goes in store. In a few moments he
comes out of store, fills the lamp and lights it.)
DAISY.
(Coming back toward JIM) Ain’t you all gonna play and sing a
little somethin’for me? I ain’t heard your all’s music much
for so long.
JIM.
Play anything you want, Daisy. Don’t make no difference what
’tis I can pick it. Where’s that old coon, Dave? (Looking around
for his partner.)
LIGE.
(Calling Dave, who is leaning against post at opposite end of porch) Come
here, an’ get warmed up for Daisy.
DAVE.
Aw, ma throat’s tired.
JIM.
Leave the baby be.
DAISY.
Come on, sing a little, Dave.
DAVE.
(Going back toward Jim) Well, seeing who’s asking … all right. What
song yo like, Daisy?
DAISY.
Um-m. Lemme think.
VOICE ON PORCH.
“Got on the train, didn’t have no fare”.
DAISY.
(Gaily) Yes, that one. That’s a good one.
JIM.
(Begins to tune up. DAVE touches Daisy’s hand.)
VOICE.
(In fun) Hunh, you all wouldn’t play at the hall last week when we
asked you.
VOICE OF SPITEFUL OLD WOMAN.
Daisy wasn’t here then.
ANOTHER VOICE.
(Teasingly) All you got to do to some men is to shake a skirt
tail in their face and they goes off their head.
DAVE.
(To JIM who is still tuning up) Come if you’re comin’boy,
let’s go if you gwine. (The full melody of the guitar comes out in a
lively, old-fashioned tune.)
VOICE.
All right now, boys, do it for Daisy jus’ as good as you do for
dem white folks over in Maitland.
DAVE & JIM.
(Beginning to sing)
Got on the train,
Didn’t have no fare,
But I rode some,
I rode some.
Got on the train,
Didn’t have no fare,
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
Got on the train,
Didn’t have no fare,
Conductor asked me what I’m doin’there,
But I rode some!
Grabbed me by the neck
And led me to the door.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
Grabbed me by the neck
And led me to the door.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
Grabbed me by the neck,
And led me to the door.
Rapped me cross the head with a forty-four,
But I rode some.
First thing I saw in jail
Was a pot of peas.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
First thing I saw in jail
Was a pot of peas.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
The peas was good,
The meat was fat,
Fell in love with the chain gang jus’ for that,
But I rode some.
(DAVE acts out the song in dancing pantomime and when it ends there are shouts
and general exclamations of approval from the crowd.)
VOICES.
I don’t blame them white folks for goin’crazy ’bout
that….
OLD MAN.
Oh, when I was a young boy I used to swing the gals round on that
piece.
DAISY.
(TO JIM) Seem like your playin’gits better and better.
DAVE.
(Quickly) And how ’bout my singin’? (Everybody laughs.)
VOICES IN THE CROWD.
Ha! Ha! Ol’ Dave’s gittin’jealous when
she speaks o’ Jim.
JIM.
(To DAVE, in fun) Ain’t nothin’to it but my playin’. You
ain’t got no singin’voice. If that’s singin’,
God’s a gopher.
DAVE.
(Half-seriously) My singin’is a whole lot better’n your
playin’. You jus’ go along and fram. The reason why the white folks
gives us money is cause I’m singin’.
JIM.
Yeah?
DAVE.
And you can’t dance.
VOICE IN THE CROWD.
You oughta dance. Big as your feet is, Dave.
DAISY.
(Diplomatically) Both of you all is wonderful and I would like to see
Dave dance a little.
DAVE.
There now, I told you. What did I tell you. (To JIM) Stop woofing and
pick a little tune there so that I can show Daisy somethin’.
JIM.
Pick a tune? I bet if you fool with me I’ll pick your bones
jus’ like a buzzard did the rabbit. You can’t sing and now you
wants to dance.
DAVE.
Yeah, and I’ll lam your head. Come on and play, good-for-nothing.
JIM.
All right, then. You say you can dance … show these people what you can
do. But don’t bring that little stuff I been seein’you doin’
all these years. (JIM plays and DAVE dances, various members of the crowd keep
time with their hands and feet, DAISY looks on enjoying herself immensely.)
DAISY.
(As DAVE cuts a very fancy step) I ain’t seen nothin’like
this up North. Dave you sho hot.
(As DAVE cuts a more complicated step the crowd applauds, but just as the show
begins to get good, suddenly JIM stops playing.)
DAVE.
(Surprised) What’s the matter, buddy?
JIM.
(Envious of the attention DAVE has been getting from DAISY, disgustedly)
Oh, nigger, I’m tired of seein’you cut the fool. ’Sides that,
I been playin’all afternoon for the white folks.
DAISY.
But I though you was playin’for me now, Jim.
JIM.
Yeah, I’d play all night long for you, but I’m
gettin’sick of Dave round here showin’off. Let him git
somethin’and play for himself if he can. (An OLD MAN with a lighted
lantern enters.)
DAISY.
(Coyly) Well, honey, play some more for me, then, and don’t mind
Dave. I reckon he done danced enough. Play me “Shake That Thing”.
OLD MAN WITH LANTERN.
Sho, you ain’t stopped, is you, boy? Music sound
mighty good floatin’down that dark road.
OLD WOMAN.
Yeah, Jim, go on play a little more. Don’t get to acting so
niggerish this evening.
DAVE.
Aw, let the ol’ darky alone. Nobody don’t want to hear him
play, nohow. I know I don’t.
JIM.
Well, I’m gonna play. (And he begins to pick “Shake That
Thing”. TEETS and BOOTSIE begin to dance with LIGE MOSELY and FRANK
WARRICK. As the tune gets good, DAVE cannot resist the music either.)
DAVE.
Old nigger’s eveil but he sho can play. (He begins to do a few
steps by himself, then twirls around in front of DAISY and approaches her.
DAISY, overcome by the music, begins to step rhythmically toward DAVE and
together they dance unobserved by JIM, absorbed in picking his guitar.)
DAISY.
Look here, baby, at this new step I learned up North.
DAVE.
You can show me anything, sugar lump.
DAISY.
Hold me tight now. (But just as they begin the new movement JIM notices
DAISY and DAVE. He stops playing again and lays his guitar down.)
VOICES IN THE CROWD.
(Disgustedly) Aw, come on, Jim…. You must be jealous….
JIM.
No, I ain’t jealous. I jus’ get tired of seein’that
ol’ nigger clownin’all the time.
DAVE.
(Laughing and pointing to JIM on porch) Look at that mad baby. Take that
lip up off the ground. Got your mouth stuck out jus’ because some one is
enjoying themselves. (He comes up and pushes JIM playfully.)
JIM.
You better go head and let me alone. (TO DAISY) Come here, Daisy!
LIGE.
That’s just what I say. Niggers can’t have no fun without
someone getting mad … specially over a woman.
JIM.
I ain’t mad…. Daisy, ’scuse me, honey, but that fool, Dave….
DAVE.
I ain’t mad neither…. Jim always tryin’to throw off on me.
But you can’t joke him.
DAISY.
(Soothingly) Aw, now, now!
JIM.
You ain’t jokin’. You means that, nigger. And if you
tryin’to get hot, first thing, you can pull of my blue shirt you put on
this morning.
DAVE.
Youse a got that wrong. I ain’t got on no shirt of yours.
JIM.
Yes, you is got on my shirt, too. Don’t tell me you ain’t got
on my shirt.
DAVE.
Well, even if I is, you can just lift your big plantations out of my
shoes. You can just foot it home barefooted.
JIM.
You try to take any shoes offa me!
LIGE.
(Pacifying them) Aw, there ain’t no use of all that. What you all
want to start this quarreling for over a little jokin’.
JIM.
Nobody’s quarreling…. I’m just playin’a little for Daisy
and Dave’s out there clownin’with her.
CLARK.
(In doorway) I ain’t gonna have no fussin’round my store, no
way. Shut up, you all.
JIM.
Well, Mayor Clark, I ain’t mad with him. We’se been friends
all our lives. He’s slept in my bed and wore my clothes and et my grub….
DAVE.
I et your grub? And many time as you done laid down with your belly full
of my grandma’s collard greens. You done et my meat and bread a whole lot
more times than I et your stewed fish-heads.
JIM.
I’d rather eat stewed fish-heads than steal out of other folkses
houses so much till you went to sleep on the roost and fell down one night and
broke up the settin’hen. (Loud laughter from the crowd)
DAVE.
Youse a liar if you say I stole anybody’s chickens. I didn’t
have to. But you … ’fore you started goin’around with me,
playin’ that little box of yours, you was so hungry you had the white
mouth. If it wasn’t for these white folks throwin’me money
for my dancin’, you would be thin as a whisper right now.
JIM.
(Laughing sarcastically) Your dancin’! You been leapin’around
here like a tailless monkey in a wash pot for a long time and nobody was
payin’no ’tention to you, till I come along playing.
LINDSAY.
Boys, boys, that ain’t no way for friends to carry on.
DAISY.
Well, if you all gonna keep up this quarrelin’and carryin’on
I’m goin’home. ’Bout time for me to be gittin’back to
my white folks anyhow. It’s dark now. I’m goin’, even if I
have to go by myself. I shouldn’t a stopped by here nohow.
JIM.
(Stopping his quarrel) You ain’t gonna go home by yourself.
I’m goin’with you.
DAVE.
(Singing softly)
It may be so,
I don’t know.
But it sounds to me
Like a lie.
WALTER.
Dave ain’t’ got as much rabbit blood as folks thought.
DAVE.
Tell ’em ’bout me. (Turns to DAISY) Won’t you choose a
treat on me, Miss Daisy, ’fore we go?
DAISY.
(Coyly) Yessir, thank you. I wants a drink of soda water.
(DAVE pulls his hat down over his eyes, whirls around and offers his arm to
DAISY. They strut into the store, DAVE gazing contemptuously at JIM as he
passes. Crowd roars with laughter, much to the embarrassment of JIM.)
LIGE.
Ol’ fast Dave jus’ runnin’the hog right over you, Jim.
WALTER.
Thought you was such a hot man.
LUM BOGER.
Want me to go in there and put Daisy under arrest and bring her to
you?
JIM.
(Sitting down on the edge of porch with one foot on the step and lights a
cigarette pretending not to be bothered.) Aw, I’ll get her when I want
her. Let him treat her, but see who struts around that lake and down the
railroad with her by and by.
(DAVE and DAISY emerge from the store, each holding a bottle of red soda pop
and laughing together. As they start down the steps DAVE accidentally steps on
JIM’s outstretched foot. JIM jumps up and pushes DAVE back, causing him
to spill the red soda all over his white shirt front.)
JIM.
Stay off my foot, you big ox.
DAVE.
Well, you don’t have to wet me all up, do you, and me in company?
Why don’t you put your damn foot in your pocket?
DAISY.
(Wiping DAVE’S shirt front with her handkerchief) Aw, ain’t
that too bad.
JIM.
(To DAVE) Well, who’s shirt did I wet? It’s mine, anyhow,
ain’t it?
DAVE.
(Belligerently) Well, if it’s your shirt, then you come take it off
me. I’m tired of your lip.
JIM.
Well, I will.
DAVE.
Well, put your fist where you lip is. (Pushing DAISY aside.)
DAISY.
(Frightened) I want to go home. Now, don’t you all boys fight.
(JIM attempts to come up the steps. DAVE pushes him back and he stumbles and
falls in the dust. General excitement as the crowd senses a fight.)
LITTLE BOY.
(On the edge of crowd) Fight, fight, you’re no kin. Kill one
another, won’t be no sin. Fight, fight, you’re no kin.
(JIM jumps up and rushes for DAVE as the latter starts down the steps. DAVE
meets him with his fist squarely in the face and causes him to step backward,
confused.)
DAISY.
(Still on porch, half crying) Aw, my Lawd! I want to go home.
(General hubbub, women’s cries of “Don’t let ’em
fight.” “Why don’t somebody stop ’em?”
“What kind of men is you all, sit there and let them boys fight like
that.” Men’s voices urging the fight: “Aw, let ’em
fight.” “Go for him, Dave.” “Slug him, Jim.”
JIM makes another rush toward the steps. He staggers DAVE. DAVE knocks JIM
sprawling once more. This time JIM grabs the mule bone as he rises, rushes
DAVE, strikes DAVE over the head with it and knocks him out. DAVE falls prone
on his back. There is great excitement.)
OLD WOMAN.
(Screams) Lawdy, is he kilt? (Several men rush to the fallen man.)
VOICE.
Run down to the pump and get a dipper o’ water.
CLARK.
(To his wife in door) Mattie, come out of that store with a bottle of
witch hazely oil quick as you can. Jim Weston, I’m gonna arrest you for
this. You Lum Boger. Where is that marshall? Lum Boger! (LUM BOGER detaches
himself from the crowd.) Arrest Jim.
LUM.
(Grabs JIM’S arm, relieves him of the mule bone and looks helplessly
at the Mayor.) Now I got him arrested, what’s I going to do with him?
CLARK.
Lock him up back yonder in my barn till Monday when we’ll have the
trial in de Baptist Church.
LINDSAY.
Yeah, just like all the rest of them Methodists … always
tryin’to take undercurrents on people.
WALTER.
Ain’t no worse then some of you Baptists, nohow. You all
don’t run this town. We got jus’ as much to say as you have.
CLARK.
(Angrily to both men) Shut up! Done had enough arguing in front of my
place. (To LUM BOGER) Take that boy on and lock him up in my barn. And save
that mule bone for evidence.
(LUM BOGER leads JIM off toward the back of the store. A crowd follows him.
Other men and women are busy applying restoratives to DAVE. DAISY stands alone,
unnoticed in the center of the stage.)
DAISY.
(Worriedly) Now, who’s gonna take me home?
:::: 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.)
