Read The Magic Tower and Other One-Act Plays Online
Authors: Tennessee Williams
MOONY
: The way you pressed up against me when we was
dancing—that
was nature, wasn’t it, Jane? And when they played “Roses of Picardy” an’ the lights was turned
out—we
was dancin’ real
slow—we
was almost standin’
still—your
breath was so warm on my neck, so
warm—you
had on a kind of
perfume
——
JANE
: Perfume? Oh, yes. Narcissus
perfume!—Mr.
O’Connor give it to me for my birthday.
MOONY
: Yeah, narcissus, that’s
it—narcissus!
An’ what was it, Jane, you whispered in my ear?
JANE
[
indignantly
]:
Me
whispered? It was
you
that whispered, not
me!
MOONY
: Was it? Maybe it was. You didn’t have to say nothin’, the way you danced was
enough!—Anyhow
, I got hooked.
JANE
[
furiously
]: Hooked! Hooked?! You dare to say such a thing?!
MOONY
: Yes, I was hooked all right. Narcissus perfume, little curls, an’ a low-cut dress. Makin’ me think that holdin’ you in my arms an’ waltzin’ aroun’ a two-bit arch-acher was better’n holdin’ an axe in my two han’s up in the North Woods an’ choppin’ down big trees!
JANE
[
choking
]:
You—you—!
[
Covers her face
.]
MOONY
[
a little less harshly
]: Aw, well, I don’t mean that
I’m—sorry
about
it—exactly. . .
JANE
[
brokenly
]: How didja mean it, I’d liketa know then?
MOONY
[
pacing about the kitchen
]: Oh, I dunno, I dunno! [
Suddenly stops and catches Jane in his arms
.] People say things, things happen! What does it mean? I dunno. Seems to me like a crazy man, deaf, dumb, and blind, could have put together a better kind of a world than this is! [
He kisses Jane’s bare shoulder where the kimono has slipped down a little
.] Let’s get out of it, honey!
JANE
[
sniffling
]: Out of it? What d’yuh mean?
MOONY
[
violently
]: Chuck it all; the whole damn
thing—that’s what!
JANE
: You
mean—
[
She backs away from him, frightened
.]
Kill
ourselves?
MOONY
[
laughing impatiently
]: Well,
no—no!
I don’t wanta
die!
I wanta
live!
—What
I mean is, get out of this place, this lousy
town—
Smoke, whistles, plants, factories, buildings, buildings,
buildings!—
You get caught in ’em, you never can find your way
out!—So
break away quick while you
can!—Get
out where it’s clean an’ there’s space to swing an axe in! An’ some time to swing it! Oh, God, Jane, don’t you
see—see—
see?
JANE
: Yes. You mean hop a freight train! [
Laughs mockingly
.]
MOONY
: Sure that’s it if you want to! Tell the Dutchman
goodbye—tell
him to kiss my Aunt Fanny!
JANE
[
hysterically
]: Me with the baby an’ my infection of the
breast—you
with your axe! We’ll spend Christmas in a boxcar, won’t we, Moony?
MOONY
: You
bet!—Me
with my axe,
we’ll
chop a way through this world!
JANE
[
LAUGHING
]: What a
joke—what
a lovely
scream
that is!
MOONY
: A joke, huh? Who said a joke?
JANE
: Moony, Moony, my great big wonderful man! He’ll cut a
way—
[
Chokes with laughter
.]
—through
this world!
MOONY
[
getting sore
]: Make fun of me, huh?
JANE
: Moony they call him! Down at the plant it’s Moony this, Moony that! All of them making fun of my man, laughing at him right to his face, and he’s so damn dumb he don’t know it! They got your number, they have! The Dutchman’s got your number. You’re just a star-gazer! You oughta put up your tent an’ tell fortunes! Oh, you damn fool! If it wasn’t so funny I could cry, I could cry! You with your axe! We’ll spend Christmas in a boxcar! You’ll chop a way through the world! Ha, ha! You with your axe? What a
scream!
—Couldn’t even chop down a kid’s Christmas
tree—I
hadda buy one at the dime store! And that
horse—
[
She gets breathless and hoarse from laughter
.] That’s the best one! Brings home a five-dollar hobby-horse when we ain’t even got money enough to pay the hospital bill!
MOONY
: I lied to you, Jane. I paid ten-fifty for that little horse.
JANE
[
aghast
]: Ten-fifty?
You—you—
No, it’s not
possible—even
you
couldn’t—
MOONY
: It was worth more than that!
JANE
: Worth more? More?!
Worth—!
[
She is breathless
.]
MOONY
: Sure it was!
JANE
: Buys a ten-fifty hobby-horse for a month-old
baby—
They lock people up for doing less than that!
MOONY
: Aw, he’ll grow up to it, Jane. [
He is a little abashed
.] I had one o’ these things when I was a kid.
JANE
: You musta got thrown off it an’ landed on your head!
MOONY
: Naw, Dad got drunk one Saturday night, an’ bought me one at a junk-shop. Mother, she felt like you did, when he come home with it. But me, I was nuts about it. Him an’ me, both, we got on the
horse—him
in back, me in
front—an’
sang “Ride a Cock-horse to Danbury Cross.”
JANE
: Oh, my God! Now I know where you got it. He was a lunatic, too!
MOONY
: Naw, he was smart. He run out on us.
JANE
: Run out on your mother, he did? Well, it’s not surprising!
MOONY
: I never heard of him since.
JANE
:
Well—he
probably got what was coming to him.
MOONY
[
with quick rage
]: Better than what I got!
JANE
: What you got?
MOONY
: A skinny yellow
cat—that’s
what I got!
JANE
[
gasping
]:
Oh
——
!
God oughta strike you down dead for saying a thing like that!
MOONY
: Yeah? I say it
again—a
yellow
cat—a
skinny yellow cat!
[
Jane strikes him across face. Moony becomes like a mad animal. Roars and lunges
forward—
clutches Jane by throat. They grapple fiercely for several moments. Then Jane collapses in his arms
.]
JANE
[
weakly
]: Lemme
go—please—for
God’s sake!
MOONY
[
disgustedly
]:
Ahhh—yer
too soft! [
He flings her away from him. She falls against interior door, and hangs onto knob and edge of sink for support. Moony hitches his belt undecidedly. He can’t look at Jane’s dazed face. He is ashamed, but still defiant
.] I’m leaving you now—get that? I’m checking out. You can tell the Dutchman to give you my
pay—owes
me three
days—
Time an’ a ha’f for
Saturday—
[
Gives his belt final hitch, and moves over to peg where his lumberman’s jacket is hanging. He gives Jane a swift furtive glance as he puts on the jacket
.] H’mmm! [
He stoops down to pick up his axe. Feels the blade with a gingerly pride. Takes awkward practice
swing. Eyes glow triumphantly to life. He looks again at Jane like an escaped animal at a cage. She does not move. She stares at him with hurt animal eyes. Moony spits on his fingers, runs them along the axe blade again. Hoarsely
.] Pretty sharp, still. Good ole
axe—h’mmm!
[
He starts toward the outer door
.] Maybe I’
ll—see
you
sometime—Jane
. [
Fumbles with latch
.] So long. [
He jerks door open. Stands on threshold
.] H’mmm. Feel that wind. Good an’ clear tonight. A touch a frost in the air. An’ them stars. Millions of ’ em, huh? Quantity production, everything on a big
scale—that’s
God! Millions of
stars—millions
of people. Only
He
knew what to do with the stars. Stuck ’ em up there in the sky to look pretty. But
people—down
here in the mud. Ugh, too many of ’em, God! They must have run away with you, I guess. Crawling over each other, snatching and tearing, living an’ dying till the earth’s just a big soup of dead
bodies!—How
did that happen? Gosh, it’s sure
funny!—Oh
, well, what’s the use? A man’s gotta live his own life. Cut his own ways through the woods
somehow—
[
The cold air sweeping into the room brings Jane out of her stupefaction. She slides to the floor and crawls toward Moony like a half-crushed animal
.]
JANE
:
Moony!—
[
Hoarsely
.]
—You
wouldn’t walk out on me, honey? Me with the baby and my infection of the breast, and no money or nothing? [
Moony turns toward her a tortured face
.
Snatches at his pockets and flings a few coins on the floor
.]
MOONY
: Four bits! Tobacco money! Now you got the whole
works—so
good-bye!
JANE
: Wait! [
She clutches his arm and her fury makes her inescapable
.] There’s something you got to take with you! Your property,
Moony—you
might as well take it along!
MOONY
: I got all I want.
JANE
: No, you ain’t. There’s something else that goes with you. You just wait here for a second, I’ll wrap it up for
you—
[
Crosses quickly to door upstage
.]
MOONY
: What the hell are
you—!
[
He hesitates at the door
.
Jane quickly reappears with the baby in her arms
.]
JANE
: Here! Here’s your kid, Moony! Take him with you. Sure.
—
Go along, now; the
two
of you! [
Shoves baby into Moony’s unwilling arms
.] Me, I can’t be bothered with no brats. I got to go back to work. O’Connor will give me my old job back. Sure he will. You two can go an’ hop a freight an’ spend Christmas in a boxcar. Maybe you’ll find your old
man—
You’ll have a swell time singing “Ride a Cock-horse” together!
[
She laughs wildly and runs out of the room. Moony gingerly holds the baby. Looks helplessly down at its face. Frowns. Swears under his breath. Finally slams the door shut
.]
MOONY
: Another one of her lousy tricks! [
Baby starts crying
.] SHUT UP! [
Then more softly
.] Moony’s kid don’t cry! [
He smiles slightly and rocks the baby in his arms
.] Naw, Moony’s kid don’t cry. Grows up an’ swings a big axe like his Daddy. Cuts his own way through the woods.
[
He walks away from the door, completely absorbed now in the baby, and apparently forgetting that he ever had any intention of going away
.]
Lookit the hobby-horse! [
Stands above the new toy
.] Santie Claus bought it for Moony’s kid. Ten-fifty it cost! See? How shiny it is! Nice, huh? Nice! What are you crying for? Daddy ain’t going nowhere. Naw!
—Daddy
was
only—fooling
. . .
SLOW CURTAIN
The first professional production of
The Dark Room
opened in London, England in 1966.
CHARACTERS
MISS MORGAN
MRS. POCCIOTTI
LUCIO
Scene: For expediency the same set as in
Moony’s Kid Don’t Cry
may be used, with a few prop changes and general rearrangement to heighten effect of poverty. Miss Morgan is pretty much a stock character: the neat, fussy spinster engaged in social service. She may be interpreted more or less sympathetically, as the producer desires
.
Mrs. Pocciotti is an avalanche of female flesh, swarthy Italian, her bulk emphasized by a ridiculously skimpy gray knit sweater, whose sleeves extend halfway down her forearms. Everything about her is heavy and deliberate except her eyes, which smolder and dart suspiciously
.
MISS MORGAN
[
seated at table with pencil and pad
]: Now your husband, Mrs. Pocciotti, just how long has he been unemployed?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: God knows how long.
MISS MORGAN
: I’m afraid I’ll have to have a more definite answer.
MRS. POCCIOTTI
[
poking her broom under the stove
]: Musta
been—1930
he got laid off.
MISS MORGAN
: He has been unemployed ever since? For eight or nine years?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: For eight or nine years. No jobs.
MISS MORGAN
: Was
he—incapacitated—I
mean—was
anything
wrong
with your husband?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: His head was no good. He couldn’t remember no more.
MISS MORGAN
: I see. His mind was affected. Now has he received hospital or institutional treatment of any kind during this period, Mrs. Pocciotti?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: He comes home, he goes back, he comes home.
MISS MORGAN
: From the City Sanitarium?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Yes.
MISS MORGAN
: Where is he now?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: City Sanitarium.
MISS MORGAN
: I see.
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: His head is no good. [
With her broom she has fished a lead spoon from under the stove. She stoops, grunting, and places it on the table
.]
MISS MORGAN
: Let’s see
now—your
sons?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Sons? Frank and Tony went off. Was never no good those boys. Tony Chicago, Frank—I think I don’t know. I don’t know those boys no more where they go, what they do, married or working or nothing, those boys I don’t know!
MISS MORGAN
: Oh! You don’t hear from them. What are the others doing?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Lucio, Silva, the young ones, still are in school.
MISS MORGAN
: They’re attending grade school?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Still are in school.
MISS MORGAN
: I see. And you have a daughter?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: One girl.
MISS MORGAN
: She’s also unemployed?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: No, she don’t work.
MISS MORGAN
: Her name and age, please.
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Name Tina. How old she is? She come right after the last boy, soon as the boys make room comes the girl.
MISS MORGAN
: Shall we say that her age is fifteen?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Fifteen.
MISS MORGAN
: I see. I would like to talk to your daughter, Mrs. Pocciotti.
MRS. POCCIOTTI
[
sweeping with sudden vigor
]: Talk to her?
MISS MORGAN
: Yes. Where is she?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
[
points to closed door
]: In there.
MISS MORGAN
[
rising
]: May I see her now?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: No. Don’t go in. She don’t like it.
MISS MORGAN
[
stiffening
]: She doesn’t
like it?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: No.
MISS MORGAN
: Why not? Is your daughter sick?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Wharsamatter with her, I dunno. She don’t want nobody to go in the room with her, and she don’t want the light turned on. She wants it to be always dark.
MISS MORGAN
: Dark? Always dark? Really? What do you mean?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
[
with confused gesture
]: Dark!
MISS MORGAN
: Will you try to be more cooperative in your answers to questions?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: What?
MISS MORGAN
[
excitedly
]: Is anything wrong with this girl?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Wrong?
No—I
dunno.
MISS MORGAN
: And yet you say that she confines herself to a dark room and wishes to be left alone?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Yes.
MISS MORGAN
: Well, of course that isn’t a perfectly normal condition for a young girl to be in. Do you realize that?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
[
slowly shaking her head
]: No.
MISS MORGAN
[
snapping
]: How long has this been going on?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Long? Long? How long?
MISS MORGAN
: Yes.
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Yes, I think maybe God knows. . . [
She touches her cheek as though she had been struck there
—
then slowly continues sweeping
.]
MISS MORGAN
[
distinctly stressing each syllable
]:
How long has she been in that room? Days? Weeks?
Months?
—
What?
Mrs. Pocciotti, it seems necessary to inform you that there is an element of time we go by. Time measured by the clock, by the calendar, by
the—time!
Time!
Do you understand what time means?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Time?
MISS MORGAN
: Yes. Now how long has your daughter been in this condition?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
[
quietly after a pause
]: Six mon’s.
MISS MORGAN
: Six months? She’s been in there in the dark for that long? Are you sure?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Six mon’s.
MISS MORGAN
: How did this start?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: On New Year’s, he didn’t come over. It started that night. It was first that he didn’t come over in a long time so she called up his place and his Mama said he was out and not to call him no more. She said he was going to be married with some German girl in just a few days and they didn’t want to be bothered.
MISS MORGAN
: He? He? Who is
he?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: The boy that she went steady with. Name was Max.
MISS MORGAN
: And you feel that her disappointment over this boy is what caused her to have this depressed mental state?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: What?
MISS MORGAN
: After that she went in the dark room? You think that was how it was started?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Maybe it was. I dunno. She phoned him from down at the drugstore and then she comes up to the kitchen and
heated some water. She said she had pains in her stummick. Bad pains.
MISS MORGAN
: Did she?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: I dunno. Maybe she did. Anyhow she went to bed with it and ain’t been up from it since. [
Her broom makes timid excursions around Miss Morgan’s chair
.
The social service worker draws her feet in like a cat avoiding spilled water
.]
MISS MORGAN
: You mean that she’s been shut up in the room ever since?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Yes.
MISS MORGAN
: Since New Year’s, you said? Six months!
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Six mon’s.
MISS MORGAN
: Doesn’t she
ever
come out?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: When she’s got to go to the bathroom, then she comes out. But other times she stays in.
MISS MORGAN
: What does she do in there?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: I dunno. She just lays in there in the dark. Sometimes she makes noise.
MISS MORGAN
: Noise?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Crying and calling bad names and knocking her hands on the wall. Upstairs they complain sometimes. But mostly she don’t say nothing. Just lays in there on the bed.
MISS MORGAN
: How about eating? Does she take regular meals?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: She eats what he brings her.
MISS MORGAN
: He? Who do you mean, Mrs. Pocciotti?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Max.
MISS MORGAN
: Max?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: The boy that she went steady with.
MISS MORGAN
: Mrs. Pocciotti, you don’t mean to say that that boy is still permitted to see your daughter?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Yes.
MISS MORGAN
: But you said he got married?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Yes. To that German girl. His folks was against our religion.
MISS MORGAN
: And still he comes here? Married? He sees your daughter?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: She won’t let nobody else in except Max.
MISS MORGAN
: Lets him? In the room? With the girl?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Yes.
MISS MORGAN
: She knows that he’s married? Of course she knows about that?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: How does she know what I know? I dunno. I can’t tell you what I dunno.
MISS MORGAN
: He goes in the girl’s room. What do they talk about?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Talk about? Nothing.
MISS MORGAN
: They talk about—nothing?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Nothing.
MISS MORGAN
: You mean they don’t talk?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Excuse while I take off the table. [
Removes a cloth from table
.]
MISS MORGAN
: Then what—what—what do they
do
in there, Mrs. Pocciotti?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: I dunno. It’s dark. I can’t tell. He goes in and stays and comes out.
MISS MORGAN
: Do I understand you correctly? The man, married, your daughter in such a condition, still you allow him to visit the
girl in the dark, you leave them alone in there, you don’t know what they’re doing?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Yes. She likes him to go in there. It makes her be not so much noise. You know. When he don’t come around a few days, she takes on something awful. Hollering, screaming, never you heard such bad names!
Upstairs—complains!
When he
comes—right
away better! Eats what he brings her! That way it helps a lot, too. We don’t got so much in the house. Maybe relief she don’t come.
Max—loaf
of bread, cheese, pickle, maybe some coffee even. It helps. [
Lucio appears at window on fire-escape
.]
LUCIO: MAMA!
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Yes.
LUCIO
: Gimme two nickels. I bet Jeeps he couldn’t lick me an’ he did an’ he says he’ll beat me up worse if i don’t come acrost wit’ the money!
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Shut up! [
Jerks thumb at Miss Morgan
’s
back. Lucio looks startled and clatters downstairs. Shrill cries from below
.]
MISS MORGAN
: I suppose you know, Mrs. Pocciotti, that you can be held liable for this?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: What?
MISS MORGAN
: How long has it been going on? Between this man and your daughter?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Max? I think maybe God knows.
MISS MORGAN
: Mrs. Pocciotti, I have the feeling that you’re deliberately evading my questions! That doesn’t improve matters any. Cooperation from you will simplify things a great deal.
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: You speak funny things. I don’t think. I try, but I don’t make it out.
MISS MORGAN
: I don’t think you try very hard. Now if you concentrate less on that aimless sweeping back and forth with a
broom—if
you listen to what I ask
you—if
you try to give sensible
answers—
things
will get on much better.
—How
long has your daughter and this German boy been going together?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
[
violently
]: Question, you get me mix up! Question, question! How do I know what’s wrong?
MISS MORGAN
: Tina! Max! How long did they go out together?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Since school, since beginning at school!
MISS MORGAN
: And after your daughter got sick and shut herself up in the dark, when did the boy start coming in that room with her?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: Maybe five or six mon’s.
MISS MORGAN
: And you and your husband, Mrs. Pocciotti, neither of you did anything to prevent him from coming?
MRS. POCCIOTTI
: My husban’ his head is no good. I got work to do. We get along best as we can. What happens is God’s will, I guess. What is wrong is wrong, I dunno! Is all I can say.
MISS MORGAN [
pause
]: I see. Mrs. Pocciotti, the girl will have to be taken away.