More Portmanteau Plays

NATHANIEL

John, you can't force this boy into a mold.

JOHN

A boy of fourteen doesn't know his mind.... Do you know what Jonathan wants to be?

NATHANIEL

Yes, a writer of plays, a theatre director, and an actor.

JOHN

Imagine!… And I suppose you encouraged him.

NATHANIEL

No, but I didn't discourage him. The selection was wide enough for him to find some lasting life work.

JOHN

He never told me he wanted to be an actor.

NATHANIEL

Oh, my brother, every growing boy has a deep secret wish that he cannot bring himself to disclose! As you know, I always wanted to be a writer, but most of all I wanted to be a left-handed base ball pitcher. And although I'm irretrievably right handed I used to practice—religiously—pitching with my left hand.

JOHN

That was juvenile foolishness.

NATHANIEL

Yes, but it was genuine.

[John starts to speak.

What am I now? I am going to tell you, John—by and by. First, we must dispose of the boy.

JOHN

I shall decide about the boy.

NATHANIEL

No, John; the boy must decide for himself.

JOHN

He'd decide to be an actor.

NATHANIEL

If he did, what of it?

JOHN

I want members of my family to do useful work.

NATHANIEL

What is useful work? An actor serves his purpose just as a plumber or lawyer serves his.... The only difference is that all of us are not plumbers or lawyers while all of us are actors. Yes, John, we're all playing something—you are playing at head of the family, I'm—

JOHN

Still I do not regard acting as a worth-while or lucrative profession.

NATHANIEL

You never know, John.... Five generations ago the Clays were respectable carpenters. They weren't wealthy and they gave no promise of becoming wealthy. Then suddenly our revered ancestor became a successful maker of cypress drain pipes—sewer pipes, I think we used to call them! The family fortunes were founded!! Our ancestor bought a high hat and the esteem of his neighbors. Cypress was in time replaced by pottery. Conduits for wires and terra cotta building materials were added to our achievements and then in your régime superfine sewers became a specialty.

JOHN

Every kind of concrete work!

NATHANIEL

I beg your pardon! Concrete sewers and other concrete things.—Such is the foundation of the family.

JOHN

You are evidently ashamed of our business.

NATHANIEL

Not at all, but I cannot consider the manufacturing of sewers a greater achievement than acting.

JOHN

Nathaniel, are you an actor?

NATHANIEL

No.

JOHN

What are you?

NATHANIEL

For the present I am Jonathan's uncle.

JOHN

You have nothing to do with Jonathan.

NATHANIEL

The boy is not going to Somerset School.

JOHN

Nathaniel, I shall not tolerate your interference. Now I must ask you to leave this house.

NATHANIEL

What?

LETITIA

John… Nathaniel… my boys, it isn't my way to interfere; but please for my sake, for your mother's sake—think what you're doing.

JOHN (With some tenderness he lays his hand on Letitia's)

I have thought, Aunt Letitia. I can not allow this boy's life to be ruined as Emily's and Henry's and Nathaniel's were.

NATHANIEL

Ruined? John, I'll tell you how ruined my life has been and I'll tell you in terms you'll understand. My income last year was over $350,000!

JOHN

Are you acting now?

NATHANIEL

Yes, I'm acting—I'm acting in terms that you will understand.... You know that I'm your brother Nathaniel. Do you know who else I am? I am a writer and a playwright and a director in the United Baking Company and a stockholder in the National Munitions Company—munitions, John; think of it, millions, millions in them—and I'm willing and eager to take Emily's boy and educate him in the way he wants to live his life.

JOHN

What are these heroics?

NATHANIEL

I mean what I say. If need be I shall use brute force, financial force or any kind of force to free Jonathan from the misery that I endured in this house.

JOHN

You had everything you wanted.

NATHANIEL

Everything except freedom to think my own thoughts. John, some people are like reinforced concrete. Someone builds the iron frame and the wooden molds, then pours the cement and when it has hardened, the molds are removed and lo, you have a monolith—a solid unchangeable stone.

JOHN

You talk very well, Nathaniel, but I shall insist upon bringing up my sister's child in my way.

NATHANIEL

Would you have him run away as I did?

JOHN

He will never run away again. He has had his lesson.

[Jonathan enters carrying a suit case.

JONATHAN

May I speak to you, Uncle John?

JOHN

What are you doing with that suit case?

JONATHAN

I'm going away.

JOHN

Who gave you permission?

JONATHAN

Nobody.... I've been thinking since a little while ago and at first I thought I'd run away again; but that wouldn't be quite fair—so I came to tell you.

JOHN

Take that suit case back into the house.

JONATHAN

No, sir! I'm going and nobody can keep me here unless they tie me.

JOHN

Well, I'll tell you one thing—if you leave this house without my permission I'll cut you off without a penny and you'll never be allowed to come back again.

JONATHAN

Yes, sir. I know that; but I'm going and I came to tell you good-bye.

JOHN

Very well. You've made your choice—and I never want to see you again as long as you live. Good-bye, Jonathan. Good-bye, Nathaniel.

LETITIA

John, don't say things you'll regret. Jonathan doesn't mean what he's saying.

JONATHAN

Yes'm, I do mean what I say.

JOHN

Good night.

[He goes out.

LETITIA

Boys, you are so hot-headed—so much alike....

NATHANIEL

You dear, you have always been content to compromise while we two must go our own ways or not at all. You go to John. Help him as you can. He's not a bad man—he's just a structure of reinforced concrete. You love John and he in his way loves you. Go to John and comfort his outraged authority.

LETITIA

I'm sorry things have turned out this way. (She kisses them) Good night, my dears. Wait until morning if you can, my darling Nathaniel.

[She goes out.

NATHANIEL

Now you've done it!

JONATHAN

I couldn't help it.

NATHANIEL

What are you going to do?

JONATHAN

I don't know.... They say there's plenty of work on farms.

NATHANIEL

You can't write if you work on a farm.

JONATHAN

I can earn some more money and save. Other boys have worked their way through school and college. I can do that.

NATHANIEL

Of course—that is a way out of it. Yes… of course....

[Nathaniel opens the back doors and sees the thinnest crescent moon hanging in the sky.

The new moon.... They say if you make a wish on the new moon it will come true.

JONATHAN

You have to see it over your right shoulder.

NATHANIEL

You saw it over your right shoulder.

JONATHAN

I don't believe that, do you?

NATHANIEL

Well, suppose it were true, what would you wish?

JONATHAN

You mean for right away?

NATHANIEL

Yes.

JONATHAN [carefully looking over his right shoulder

I'd wish to be with you.

NATHANIEL

More than anything?

JONATHAN

Yes, sir.

NATHANIEL

More than being a writer or a theatre director or an actor?

JONATHAN

Oh, yes, I'm too young to start right away. I have to have an education first.

NATHANIEL

Suppose that wish couldn't be, then what would you wish?

JONATHAN

That you'd write me long letters and let me write you long letters.

[Takes up his suit case.

I'd better be going now.

NATHANIEL

Aren't you going to tell John and Aunt Letitia good-bye?

JONATHAN

No, sir. I don't think I'd better. Uncle John doesn't care and Aunt Letitia will understand.

NATHANIEL

Yes, she always understands somehow.

JONATHAN

Good-bye, sir.

NATHANIEL

Jonathan, suppose we go away together. I'm not wanted and you're not wanted.

JONATHAN

You're going to Paris to marry Mlle. Perrault!

NATHANIEL

Would you let me be your father, Jonathan?

JONATHAN

Sir?

NATHANIEL

You shall go to the schools where you will find the work you want.... Will you be my son?

JONATHAN

Do you like me that much?

NATHANIEL

I like you more than that much. You'll get some long trousers and we'll plan and plan. Suppose we run away together.

JONATHAN

Do you think we ought to leave some word, Uncle Nathaniel?

NATHANIEL

Of course. How stupid of me.

JONATHAN

You write it.

NATHANIEL

No, we'll both write it.

JONATHAN

I don't know what to say. I've only run away once.

NATHANIEL

So have I.

JONATHAN

Did you ever run away?

NATHANIEL

Yes—when I was eighteen.

JONATHAN

Oh!

NATHANIEL (taking up paper)

The message ought to be short.

JONATHAN

Why did you run away?

NATHANIEL

I wanted to write.

JONATHAN

You did!

NATHANIEL

Didn't you know I ran away?

JONATHAN

No, sir; they never would tell me what became of you.

NATHANIEL

They didn't know.

JONATHAN

How could you keep it from them?

NATHANIEL

I changed my name—Mr. Alexander Jefferson, Sr! What shall I say?

JONATHAN

I can't think.... Did Uncle John lock you in?

NATHANIEL

No, I just ran away.

JONATHAN

How long did it take you to make up your mind to go?

NATHANIEL

I thought about it first when I was twelve. My father was still living then.

JONATHAN

Did you go to Somerset School?

NATHANIEL

Yes—for three years.

JONATHAN

What did you do after you ran away?

NATHANIEL

I had a very hard time, my boy—at first. I worked at anything I could get, then I got into a newspaper office, then I wrote "autobiographies" of famous men.

JONATHAN

I thought you had to write your own autobiography—

NATHANIEL

Not nowadays. Then I wrote some successful short stories, then some very successful long ones—and now I am independent; but it took me ten bitter years to make my first success.... What shall I write here?

JONATHAN

I never could think of things to say when I was going away.

NATHANIEL

Neither could I.

JONATHAN

Don't you think "good-bye" would be enough?

NATHANIEL (writing)

Capital.... "Good-Bye—Nathaniel." Now you sign it.

JONATHAN (Signs)

"Jonathan."… Maybe we ought to put a line under it so Aunt Letitia won't feel so bad.

NATHANIEL (makes a line)

Dear Aunt Letitia will understand. She is the blessed kind who always does. Now, where shall we put it?… On John's chair, and maybe he'll understand too.

[He pins the note to John's chair.

JONATHAN

Don't you want to pack your things?

NATHANIEL

I'll wire for them.

[Susan enters.

On second thought, I'll ask Aunt Letitia to send them.

[He goes out.

JONATHAN

Hello, Susan.

SUSAN

Jonathan, I just saw Miss Letitia and she was crying.... What's the matter?

JONATHAN

I'm going away, Susan.

SUSAN

Where are you going?

JONATHAN

I'm going with Uncle Nathaniel. I'm going to be his son. And I'm going to a fine prep. school and learn to write and do what I like.

SUSAN

When are you coming back?

JONATHAN

I don't know. When I'm older maybe.

SUSAN

Can't we write any more songs?

JONATHAN

I'll send some words to you in letters.

SUSAN

Will you write every week?

JONATHAN

Yes.... Will you?

SUSAN

Yes. I wish I was going, too.

JONATHAN

So do I.

SUSAN

Maybe I'll come to see you graduate.

JONATHAN

That will be fine!

SUSAN (She kisses him very simply)

Good-bye, Jonathan.

JONATHAN

Good-bye, Susan.

SUSAN

I can hardly wait until you graduate.

JONATHAN

Neither can I.... Good-bye.

[Nathaniel enters.

NATHANIEL

On third thought, I decided to wire for my things.

SUSAN

Good-bye, Mr. Nathaniel. I hope you'll have a nice time.

NATHANIEL

Good-bye, Susan.

[He kisses her. She goes out.

JONATHAN

Good-bye, Susan.

SUSAN (calling)

Send me some picture postcards, Jonathan.

JONATHAN

I will.

[He watches her.

NATHANIEL (Goes to window)

Don't you want to make your wish on the new moon, Jonathan?

JONATHAN

I don't know what to wish now. The only one I could think of has come true.

NATHANIEL

Good… come, my boy.

JONATHAN

I'll write a long letter to Susan Sample every week.

NATHANIEL

You can write her a long letter from New York.

JONATHAN

And I can send her picture postcards from every place we go to.

[Arm in arm they go out talking.

The Curtain Falls

APPENDIX

A. M. PALMER—AUTHOR'S MATINEES

THE THEATER OF ARTS AND LETTERS

THE CRITERION INDEPENDENT THEATER

THE INDEPENDENT THEATER

THE NEW THEATER

MISS GRACE GEORGE—THE PLAYHOUSE

WASHINGTON SQUARE PLAYERS 7

REPERTORY OF THE STUART WALKER COMPANY

CASTS

The Lady of the Weeping Willow Tree

CAST FOR OPENING

The Very Naked Boy

CAST FOR OPENING

Jonathan Makes a Wish

NEW YORK CAST

First produced at the Murat Theatre, Indianapolis, August 12, 1918.

At the Princess Theatre, New York première, September 11, 1918, Elizabeth Patterson played Aunt Letitia, which was played in Indianapolis by Judith Lowry.

1

Since America's entrance in the War given over to the "movies."

2

Mr. John Palmer, in his book, "The Future of the Theater," gives the following as the programme for the then, 1913, projected National Theater. The war intervened, however, and the venture has been lost sight of for the moment. This statement is even more reasonable than that of Mr. Archer, for this is intended for practical use in England while his was merely taken from France.

"… it seems desirable to state that a repertory theater should be held to mean a theater able to present at least two different plays of full length at evening performances in each completed week during the annual season, and at least three different plays at evening performances and matinées taken together … and the number of plays presented in a year should not be less than twenty-five. A play of full length means a play occupying at least two-thirds of the whole time of any performance. But two two-act plays, or three one-act plays, composing a single programme, should, for the purposes of this statute, be reckoned as equivalent to a play of full length."

As Mr. Palmer remarks "this statute is both elastic and watertight."

E. H. B.

3

See Appendix for complete repertories.

4

Announcement has just been made that Miss George will continue her repertory during the season of 1919-1920.

5

They only failed for $3000, however: the rent of a Broadway theater for a week.

6

This statement hardly applies to The Neighborhood Theater, or to that successor to The Washington Square Players, The Theater Guild, the work of which at the Garrick Theater, New York, during the first part of 1919 has been excellent in the very highest degree.

7

Taken from Prof. Dickenson's book, "The Insurgent Theater," in which a number of interesting and more recent repertories of "independent" theaters are given.