Death of Bessie Smith, the Sandbox, and the American Dream
Edward Albee
BY EDWARD ALBEE
The Zoo Story
The Death of Bessie Smith
The Sandbox
The American Dream
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
The Ballad of the Sad Cafe
Tiny Alice
Malcolm
A Delicate Balance
Everything in the Garden
Box and Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-Tung
All Over
Seascape
Listening
Counting the Ways
The Lady from Dubuque
Lolita
The Man Who Had Three Arms
Finding the Sun
Marriage Play
Three Tall Women
Fragments (A Sit-Around)
The Play About the Baby
The Goat or, Who is Sylvia?
Occupant
At Home at the Zoo
Me, Myself & I
CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that performance of any of the Plays in this volume is subject to payment of a royalty. The Plays are fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention, the Universal Copyright Convention, the Berne Convention, and of all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including without limitation professional/amateur stage rights, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound recording, all other forms of mechanical, electronic and digital reproduction, transmission and distribution, such as CD, DVD, the Internet, private and file-sharing networks, information storage and retrieval systems, photocopying, and the rights of translation into foreign languages are strictly reserved. Particular emphasis is placed upon the matter of readings, permission for which must be secured from the Author’s agent in writing. The English language amateur stage performance rights in the United States, its territories, possessions and Canada for the Plays are controlled exclusively by Dramatists Play Service, Inc., 440 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10016. No nonprofessional performances of the Plays or any of their acts may be given without obtaining in advance the written permission of Dramatists Play Service, Inc., and paying the requisite fee. The English language stock and regional theatre stage performance rights in the United States, its territories, possessions and Canada and the English language amateur stage performance rights for the Plays in the British Commonwealth of Nations (excluding Canada), Ireland, and South Africa are controlled exclusively by Samuel French, Inc, 45 West 25th Street, New York, NY 10010. No stock or regional performance or nonprofessional performance, in the aforesaid countries, of the Plays or any of its acts may be given without obtaining in advance the written permission of Samuel French, Inc., and paying the requisite fee. Inquiries concerning all other rights should be addressed to William Morris Endeavor Entertainment, LLC, 1325 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10019. Attn: Jonathan Lomma.
Copyright
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THE DEATH OF BESSIE SMITH © 1959, 1960, 1988 by Edward Albee
THE SANDBOX © 1959, 1960, 1988 by Edward Albee
THE AMERICAN DREAM © 1960, 1961, 1987, 1988 by Edward Albee
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.
ISBN 978-1-4683-0750-4
Contents
By Edward Albee
Copyright
The Death of Bessie Smith
The Sandbox
The American Dream
The Death of Bessie Smith
A PLAY IN EIGHT SCENES
For Ned Rorem
FIRST PERFORMANCE
April 21, 1960, Berlin, Germany.
Schlosspark Theater
The first American performance of The Death of Bessie Smith was presented at the York Playhouse in New York City on January 24, 1961.
THE PLAYERS
BERNIE
A Negro, about forty, thin.
JACK
A dark-skinned Negro, forty-five, bulky, with a deep voice and a mustache.
THE FATHER
A thin, balding white man, about fifty-five.
THE NURSE
A Southern white girl, full blown, dark or red-haired, pretty, with a wild laugh. Twenty-six.
THE ORDERLY
A light-skinned Negro, twenty-eight, clean-shaven, trim, prim.
SECOND NURSE
A Southern white girl, blond, not too pretty, about thirty.
THE INTERN
A Southern white man, blond, well put-together, with an amiable face; thirty.
THE SCENE
Afternoon and early evening, September 26, 1937. In and around the city of Memphis, Tennessee.
THE SET
The set for this play will vary, naturally, as stages vary—from theatre to theatre. So, the suggestions put down below, while they might serve as a useful guide, are but a general idea—what the author “sees.”
What the author “sees” is this: The central and front area of the stage reserved for the admissions room of a hospital, for this is where the major portion of the action of the play takes place. The admissions desk and chair stage-center, facing the audience. A door, leading outside, stage-right; a door, leading to further areas of the hospital, stage-left. Very little more: a bench, perhaps; a chair or two. Running along the rear of the stage, and perhaps a bit on the sides, there should be a raised platform, on which, at various locations, against just the most minimal suggestions of sets, the other scenes of the play are performed. All of this very open, for the whole back wall of the stage is full of the sky, which will vary from scene to scene: a hot blue; a sunset; a great, red-orange-yellow sunset. Sometimes full, sometimes but a hint.
At the curtain, let the entire stage be dark against the sky, which is a hot blue. MUSIC against this, for a moment or so, fading to under as the lights come up on:
SCENE ONE
The corner of a barroom. BERNIE seated at a table, a beer before him, with glass. JACK enters, tentatively, a beer bottle in his hand; he does not see BERNIE.
BERNIE
(Recognizing JACK; with pleased surprise) Hey!
JACK
Hm?
BERNIE
Hey; Jack!
JACK
Hm? … What? … (Recognizes him) Bernie!
BERNIE
What you doin’ here, boy? C’mon, sit down.
JACK
Well, I’ll be damned …
BERNIE
C’mon,
sit down, Jack.
JACK
Yeah … sure … well, I’ll be damned. (Moves over to the table; sits) Bernie. My God, it’s hot. How you been, boy?
BERNIE
Fine; fine. What you doin’ here?
JACK
Oh, travelin’; travelin’.
BERNIE
On the move, hunh? Boy, you are the last person I expected t’walk in that door; small world, hunh?
JACK
Yeah; yeah.
BERNIE
On the move, hunh? Where you goin’?
JACK
(Almost, but not quite, mysterious) North.
BERNIE (Laughs)
North! North? That’s a big place, friend: north.
JACK
Yeah … yeah, it is that: a big place.
BERNIE
(After a pause; laughs again) Well, where, boy? North where?
JACK
(Coyly; proudly) New York.
BERNIE
New York!
JACK
Unh-hunh; unh-hunh.
BERNIE
New York, hunh? Well. What you got goin’ up there?
JACK
(Coy again) Oh … well … I got somethin’ goin’ up there. What you been up to, boy?
BERNIE
New York, hunh?
JACK
(Obviously dying to tell about it) Unh-hunh.
BERNIE
(Knowing it) Well, now, isn’t that somethin’. Hey! You want a beer? You want another beer?
JACK
No, I gotta get … well, I don’t know, I …
BERNIE
(Rising from the table) Sure you do. Hot like this? You need a beer or two, cool you off.
JACK
(Settling back) Yeah; why not? Sure, Bernie.
BERNIE
(A dollar bill in his hand; moving off) I’ll get us a pair. New York, hunh? What’s it all about, Jack? Hunh?
JACK (Chuckles)
Ah, you’d be surprised, boy; you’d be surprised.
(Lights fade on this scene, come up on another, which is)
SCENE TWO
Part of a screened-in porch; some wicker furniture, a little the worse for wear.
The NURSE’s FATHER is seated on the porch, a cane by his chair. Music, loud, from a phonograph, inside.
FATHER
(The music is too loud; he grips the arms of his chair; finally) Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!
NURSE (From inside)
What? What did you say?
FATHER
STOP IT!
NURSE
(Appearing, dressed for duty) I can’t hear you; what do you want?
FATHER
Turn it off! Turn that goddamn music off!
NURSE
Honestly, Father …
FATHER
Turn it off!
(The NURSE turns wearily, goes back inside. Music stops)
Goddamn Nigger records. (To NURSE, inside) I got a headache.
NURSE (Re-entering)
What?
FATHER
I said, I got a headache; you play those goddamn records all the time; blast my head off; you play those goddamn Nigger records full blast … me with a headache …
NURSE (Wearily)
You take your pill?
FATHER
No!
NURSE (Turning)
I’ll get you your pills. …
FATHER
I don’t want ’em!
NURSE (Overpatiently)
All right; then I won’t get you your pills.
FATHER
(After a pause; quietly, petulantly) You play those goddamn records all the time. …
NURSE (Impatiently)
I’m sorry, Father; I didn’t know you had your headache.
FATHER
Don’t you use that tone with me!
NURSE
(With that tone) I wasn’t using any tone …
FATHER
Don’t argue!
NURSE
I am not arguing; I don’t want to argue; it’s too hot to argue. (Pause; then quietly) I don’t see why a person can’t play a couple of records around here without …
FATHER
Damn noise! That’s all it is; damn noise.
NURSE
(After a pause) I don’t suppose you’ll drive me to work. I don’t suppose, with your headache, you feel up to driving me to the hospital.
FATHER
No.
NURSE
I didn’t think you would. And I suppose you’re going to need the car, too.
FATHER
Yes.
NURSE
Yes; I figured you would. What are you going to do, Father? Are you going to sit here all afternoon on the porch, with your headache, and watch the car? Are you going to sit here and watch it all afternoon? You going to sit here with a shotgun and make sure the birds don’t crap on it … or something?
FATHER
I’m going to need it.
NURSE
Yeah; sure.
FATHER
I said, I’m going to need it.
NURSE
Yeah … I heard you. You’re going to need it.
FATHER
I am!
NURSE
Yeah; no doubt. You going to drive down to the Democratic Club, and sit around with that bunch of loafers? You going to play big politician today? Hunh?
FATHER
That’s enough, now.
NURSE
You going to go down there with that bunch of bums … light up one of those expensive cigars, which you have no business smoking, which you can’t afford, which I cannot afford, to put it more accurately … the same brand His Honor the mayor smokes … you going to sit down there and talk big, about how you and the mayor are like this … you going to pretend you’re something more than you really are, which is nothing but …
FATHER
You be quiet, you!
NURSE
… a hanger-on … a flunky …
FATHER
YOU BE QUIET!
NURSE (Faster)
Is that what you need the car for, Father, and I am going to have to take that hot, stinking bus to the hospital?
FATHER
I said, quiet! (Pause) I’m sick and tired of hearing you disparage my friendship with the mayor.
NURSE (Contemptuous)
Friendship!
FATHER
That’s right: friendship.
NURSE
I’ll tell you what I’ll do: Now that we have His Honor, the mayor, as a patient … when I get down to the hospital … if I ever get there on that damn bus … I’ll pay him a call, and I’ll just ask him about your “friendship” with him; I’ll just …
FATHER
Don’t you go disturbing him; you hear me?
NURSE
Why, I should think the mayor would be delighted if the daughter of one of his closest friends was to …
FATHER
You’re going to make trouble!
NURSE (Heavily sarcastic)
Oh, how could I make trouble, Father?
FATHER
You be careful.
NURSE
Oh, that must be quite a friendship. Hey, I got a good idea: you could drive me down to the hospital and you could pay a visit to your good friend the mayor at the same time. Now, that is a good idea.
FATHER
Leave off! Just leave off!
NURSE
(Under her breath) You make me sick.
FATHER
What! What was that?
NURSE (Very quietly)
I said, you make me sick, Father.
FATHER
Yeah? Yeah?
(He takes his cane, raps it against the floor several times. This gesture, beginning in anger, alters, as it becomes weaker, to a helpless and pathetic flailing; eventually it subsides; the NURSE watches it all quietly)
NURSE (Tenderly)
Are you done?
FATHER
Go away; go to work.
NURSE
I’ll get you your pills before I go.
FATHER (Tonelessly)
I said, I don’t want them.
NURSE
I don’t care whether you want them, or not. …
FATHER
I’m not one of your patients!
NURSE
Oh, and aren’t I glad you’re not.
FATHER
You give them better attention than you give me!
NURSE (Wearily)
I don’t have patients, Father; I am not a floor nurse; will you get that into your head? I am on admissions; I am on the admissions desk. You know that; why do you pretend otherwise?
FATHER
If you were a … what-do-you-call-it … if you were a floor nurse … if you were, you’d give your patients better attention than you give me.
NURSE
‘What are you, Father? What are you? Are you sick, or not? Are you a … a … a poor cripple, or are you planning to get yourself up out of that chair, after I go to work, and drive yourself down to the Democratic Club and sit around with that bunch of loafers? Make up your mind, Father; you can’t have it every which way.
FATHER
Never mind.
NURSE
You can’t; you just can’t.
FATHER
Never mind, now!
NURSE
(After a pause) Well, I gotta get to work.
FATHER (Sneering)
Why don’t you get your boyfriend to drive you to work?
NURSE
All right; leave off.
FATHER
Why don’t you get him to come by and pick you up, hunh?
NURSE
I said, leave off!
FATHER
Or is he only interested in driving you back here at night … when it’s nice and dark; when it’s plenty dark for messing around in his car? Is that it? Why don’t you bring him here and let me have a look at him; why don’t you let me get a look at him some time?
NURSE (Angry)
Well, Father … (A very brief gesture at the surroundings) maybe it’s because I don’t want him to get a …
FATHER
I hear you; I hear you at night; I hear you gigglin’ and carrying on out there in his car; I hear you!
NURSE
(Loud; to cover the sound of his voice) I’m going, Father.
FATHER
All right; get along, then; get on!
