DUVALL Graham Gordy
MARGUERITE Stacy Breeding
KATE Angel Bailey
MAE BUTTRESS Rhonda Atwood
POLICE DETECTIVE Tom Kagy
There is only one stage set. It is the dining room of an old hotel in Arkansas, formerly Miss Eula’s Sunnyside Hotel, now being changed over to a dance hall called Delray’s New Moon. The hotel is a two-story wooden structure situated just off the highway—Interstate 30—about halfway between Little Rock and Texarkana. There is a front door, with a large window beside it, that opens on to the parking area outside. There are restaurant tables and chairs, plain and inexpensive. There is a short bar of padded plastic, with four or five high stools standing before it. On top of the bar there is a small television set (facing away from the audience) and boxes of cocktail glasses. Behind the bar there is a sink with water taps, and behind that a swinging door leading to the kitchen. There are signs of renovation—a stepladder, a wooden tray of carpenter’s tools, paint buckets. A stairway leads to the second floor, but only the first flight of stairs, to a landing, is visible to the audience. Near the bottom of the stairs is the opening of a hallway leading to the rear.
An outdoor sign, not yet hung, leans against an inside wall. It reads, DINE AND DANCE AT DELRAY’S NEW MOON. Under the words there is painted a tilted champagne glass, with bubbles rising from it. There is a life-size cardboard cutout of a male and female dancer in black silhouette. The dancers are in formal dress and have a 1930s look. The man is holding the woman as she leans over backward in a dramatic pose. A silver crescent moon (cardboard wrapped in aluminum foil) hangs from the ceiling and twists slowly about.
Cast of Characters
MR. PALFREY. An old man in nondescript gray trousers, wide suspenders, and plaid shirt buttoned all the way to the top. He wears an old felt hat with a narrow brim, and uses a walking stick, an unpainted cane of white wood.
FERN. Mr. Palfrey’s older daughter, who is about fifty years old. Her clothes are neat and plain.
LENORE. Mr. Palfrey’s younger daughter, who is about thirty-five years old. She has a lot of upswept hair, big earrings, jangling bracelets. Her clothes are flashy.
TONYA. Lenore’s daughter, a girl six or seven years old.
MRS. VETCH. An old woman, very ladylike, wearing her Sunday best—hat, purse and gloves.
MR. NIBLIS. A skinny old man wearing mismatched suit coat and trousers, white shirt and short, wide necktie. He has a sack of tobacco in his shirt pocket, and keeps his cigarette papers and his matches (big kitchen matches) in the hatband of his felt hat. He rolls and smokes cigarettes throughout the play. One lens of his eyeglasses is dark. He wears a hearing-aid, with big conspicuous wires running down from his ear to his clothing.
MR. MINGO. A dapper old man in a seersucker suit, polka-dot bow tie, straw boater hat and two-tone shoes, black and white. He uses two malacca canes.
DELRAY. The new owner, is about forty years old, wears a white guayabera, short white slacks, soft white loafers, gold necklace. He carries a ring of keys on his belt.
DUVALL. (Pronounced DOO-vall.) He is Delray’s assistant, a young man about twenty years old. He has a reddish ponytail, tied with a ribbon, and wears jeans and T-shirt.
MARGUERITE. A slender little girl about nine years old, with stringy blonde hair. She wears old white tennis shoes with no laces, and a shiny blue-green dress with shoulder straps. One strap keeps falling off. She sells pecan rolls from a paper shopping bag.
KATE. The waitress, a girl in her mid-twenties. Hard and tense.
MAE BUTTRESS. A fat young woman about thirty years old. She wears glasses and a dark blue tailored suit, white blouse, bow tie, all suggestive of a uniform.
POLICE DETECTIVE. A stocky young man in plain clothes.
HOUSE PAINTER. An old drunk in white overalls, white shirt and heavy black shoes.
Act I
The only occupant of the room is Mr. Niblis. He is seated at a table surrounded by luggage and pasteboard boxes tied up with string. He is smoking one of his hand-rolled cigarettes and is reading from scraps of paper that he takes from various pockets.
Enter Fern and her father, Mr. Palfrey, through the front door. She carries two suitcases and leads the way. He follows, rocking from side to side on his walking stick.
FERN. Well, we beat the rain anyway. (She sets the bags down beside a vacant table and looks about) I wish you would look. They’ve sure changed the old Sunnyside all up.
MR. PALFREY. (Looking at sign) Dine and dance. Dine and dance. Everybody wants to dine and dance.
FERN. (Getting him settled in at a table) Now just sit down there, Daddy, and be still. Don’t stare at people and don’t act ugly to people.
MR. PALFREY. (Not listening. Pawing over his things) You forgot my pillow.
FERN. I’m going after it now. Just stay right there.
She starts to go, comes back, removes the hat from his head, combs his tousled hair. She leaves. Mr. Palfrey and Mr. Niblis stare at one another, look away, stare again.
Enter Kate, the waitress, from the kitchen. She goes first to the front window and peers outside, looking left and right. Then she goes to Mr. Palfrey’s table and gives him a menu. He puts on his glasses and looks it over.
MR. PALFREY. These are just dime-store glasses. That’s all I ever needed. I haven’t been to a doctor in twenty-one years. And don’t plan to go any time soon, thank you.
He waits for her to marvel at this but she doesn’t respond. He peers at the name tag on her uniform.
MR. PALFREY. “Kate,” is it?
KATE. Yes.
MR. PALFREY. Well, Kate, tell me this. What time do the good-looking women come on?
KATE. (In no mood for this banter) Much later. What do you want?
MR. PALFREY. Can I still get breakfast?
KATE. (Looks at watch) Till ten-thirty, yes.
Mr. Palfrey, humming and tapping his fingers, continues his leisurely study of the menu.
KATE. (Impatient) If you don’t know what you want, I can come back.
MR. PALFREY. Oh, I know what I want. I just don’t see it here. What I want is a fat yearling coon roasted with some sweet potatoes. What I want, young lady, is some salt-cured ham that’s been hanging in the smokehouse for about two years, along with five or six big cat-head biscuits, and some country butter and ribbon cane surrup [syrup]. But I can’t get that, can I?
KATE. You can’t get it here.
MR. PALFREY. You can’t get it anywhere. Not any more. Them days are gone. It’s a different country. Way too many new people to suit me. (Resumes study of menu) All right. Let me have this Number One. With bacon and grits. These biscuits—are they canned?
KATE. Yes.
MR. PALFREY. Then let me have toast. Are the grits soupy?
KATE. I don’t know. They’re just instant grits.
MR. PALFREY. I like my grits to stand up. Tell the cook. But not lumpy either. And I want tomato juice instead of grapefruit juice.
KATE. (Points to warning words in menu) “No Substitutions.”
MR. PALFREY. Yeah, I know, they all say that, but what difference does it make?
KATE. I don’t know. That’s the rule. I just work here. How do you want your eggs?
MR. PALFREY. (Sulking) I can’t have what I want.
KATE. You can have your eggs the way you want them.
MR. PALFREY. No, I can’t either. Not here. Not in this place.
KATE. Fried, scrambled, what?
MR. PALFREY. Nobody can have anything the way they want it here. The customer is always wrong.
KATE. Over easy then?
MR. PALFREY. I don’t have no say in the matter. Bring me whatever you want me to have.
Kate shrugs and leaves with order.
MR. PALFREY. (Calling after her) Wait. Here’s my old man card. I get ten percent off.
KATE. You don’t need a card. (Exits to kitchen)
Fern returns with his special pillow.
FERN.
For just once in her life I wish Lenore could be on time someplace. “Ten o’clock,” she said. “Tonya and I will be there waiting for you.”
I should know better by now.
MR. PALFREY. She’ll be here. Don’t worry. Just go on back to Texarkana. I’ll be all right.
FERN. No, I’m not going to leave you here by yourself. You could be sitting here all day waiting for Lenore.
MR. PALFREY. She probably got caught in the rain and had to slow down some.
FERN. Then she should have made allowances for the rain. You always make excuses for her, Daddy.
MR. PALFREY. Well, she is my baby daughter, after all.
FERN. A pretty old baby, if you ask me.
MR. PALFREY. (Looking over his things. Speaks up suddenly) Where’s my police scanner?
FERN. Didn’t you put it in the trunk?
MR. PALFREY. It was on the kitchen table. You were supposed to load it.
FERN. Well, let me go look. (She leaves)
MR. PALFREY. (Calling after her) And my umbrella! And my big flashlight!
Enter Marguerite, the little girl. She is lugging a paper shopping bag that contains candy logs—big pecan logs. She approaches Mr. Palfrey and looks at him.
MARGUERITE. Are you a cripple old man?
MR. PALFREY. No, I’m not.
MARGUERITE. You have a walking stick.
MR. PALFREY. It’s not a walking stick, it’s just a stick I have to poke things with. I point at things with it and I knock down pears and apples out of trees with it. You don’t see me creeping around, do you, and grabbing aholt of chairs when I cross a room?
MARGUERITE. (Brings out big bar of candy wrapped in cellophane) These are real good pecan logs and they only cost five dollars.
MR. PALFREY. (Fondling his stick) Look how pretty the wood is. That’s holly. The whitest wood there is. I cut it and turned it myself. (Whacks it across his palm) And sometimes I use it to correct my chirren [children] with.
MARGUERITE. (Presses candy on him) They call this the family size. The money goes for our new band uniforms. We’re going to have brand new scarlet and gold uniforms.
MR. PALFREY. (Puts on glasses, looks over candy) It looks like a ear of corn. A big roasting ear. (Reads label) I never heard of this outfit. Just some post office box in Memphis.
MARGUERITE. (Hanging over his shoulder, pointing to label) No, see, it says “Made of the finest ingredients.” And look how many pecans you get for just five dollars.
MR. PALFREY. (Pushing her back) Here, get away so I can see for myself.
MARGUERITE. They can’t sell these in stores because they’re too big and they have too many pecans. Mrs. Vetch has been eating on hers for more than a week.
MR. PALFREY. (Pitches candy into shopping bag) No, I can’t use it. But I tell you what I will do. If you can make me laugh I’ll give you ten dollars.
MARGUERITE. (Thinks it over) I can dance some. (Twirls about and curves her arms up in Spanish dancer pose) Next year I’m going to take tap lessons at Irene’s House of Dance.
MR. PALFREY. Dancing? How would that make me laugh?
MARGUERITE. They’re going to have dancing here pretty soon and I’m going to be right in the middle of it. With sequins in my hair.
MR. PALFREY. No, you’re not. This place is turning into a honky tonk. They’re not going to let you come into a honky tonk.
MARGUERITE. Delray said I could come as a performer. He said he would introduce me as “the radiant Miss Annabel.” When I do my scarf dance.
MR. PALFREY. You’re Annabel?
MARGUERITE. That’s only my dancing name. My real name is Marguerite, which means “pearl.” You know what though? (Hands on hips) My birthstone is the beautiful blue sapphire! But my favorite color is cerise!
MR. PALFREY. “Annabel.” (Savoring the name) “Annabel.” That’s not bad. “Blanche” is a good name too. If I had another little baby girl I would name her Blanche.
MARGUERITE. No, I like “Annabel” better. I read this real real good book, see, called “The Radiant Miss Annabel Lee,” about a poor orphan girl with long auburn hair. It was her crowning glory. It was so long she could sit on it but the boss made her cut it off when she went to work at the fish canning factory. But she didn’t let it get her down. She always made the best of everything. She nursed injured animals back to health and she threaded needles for old ladies. She cheered up people with broken hearts. She wrote love letters for people who couldn’t write very good love letters. Annabel loved children too and she wrote tiny poems in green ink on their little fat hands. She took them out blackberry picking and when the little ones got tired and cried and dropped their buckets she showed them how to do the chicken walk and soon turned their tears to bubbling and infectious laughter. And everywhere she went everybody just loved Annabel so much because she helped them out with their problems. And they all said the same thing about her. They all said, “How fortunate we are to have Annabel here with us! How radiant she is!” And that’s how I got my dancing name.
MR. PALFREY. Well, I don’t care nothing about your boogie-woogie or your rock and roll or your nut logs. My deal is this. You make me laugh and I’ll give you a ten-dollar bill.
Enter Kate with coffee and food. Marguerite lingers by the table and watches Mr. Palfrey salt and pepper his fried eggs, heavily, with both hands.
MARGUERITE. Oooooo! I hate grits!
MR. PALFREY. You don’t know what’s good, girl. I eat grits every day. They keep my coat glossy.
MARGUERITE. (Speaking up, just as he is about to attack his eggs with knife and fork) We say the blessing at our house before we eat.
MR. PALFREY. We do too, but when you’re out on the road you don’t always have time for that. (Trails off as he is made to feel the lameness of the excuse) All right then. (Drops his head a bit and mumbles the prayer rapidly and mechanically) Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and consecrate our lives to thy service in Jesus name amen. (He falls on the eggs with knife and fork, with furious criss-cross chopping moves. Marguerite, startled by the clatter of cutlery on china, jumps back)
Enter Delray from the rear hall. He comes striding in to investigate the noise and looks at Mr. Palfrey with disgust.
DELRAY. What the devil! Kate! Duvall! Where is everybody? Kate!
KATE. (Sticks her head out kitchen door) What? What is it now?
DELRAY. (Pointing to Mr. Palfrey) There! That’s what! We’re not supposed to be open!
KATE. Why not?
DELRAY. Didn’t Duvall tell you? Everything was to be shut down last night.
KATE. Nobody told me anything. Sammy came on as usual. He’s back here in the kitchen.
DELRAY. Well, tell him to shut it down right now and get everything cleaned up. I want it all ready for a complete inventory. No, forget it, I’ll tell him myself. That’s the only way I can get anything done around here. (Exits through kitchen door, pushing Kate aside)
MARGUERITE. (To Mr. Palfrey) Wait! I know! I’ve got something at home to show you! It’ll make you laugh out loud! It’s worth ten dollars easy! Watch my sack for me!
She takes off at a run and exits through front door. There are noises of people on stairs. Duvall, Delray’s young assistant, enters on the stairway with two old people, Mrs. Vetch and Mr. Mingo. He helps them along and settles them in at a table near Mr. Niblis, where their luggage is gathered.
DUVALL. There we go. All set, are we?
MRS. VETCH. (Looking about) Where is Ruth Buttress?
DUVALL. She’s on the way. You’ll be off to Avalon in no time, and you know, I’m tempted to go with you. (Reads from brochure) “The days are full at Avalon and before you know it, it’s bedtime!”
MR. NIBLIS. (Speaking for the first time) What was that? What did Duvall say?
MRS. VETCH. He said the days are full at Avalon!
DUVALL. Are they ever! (Runs finger down Avalon brochure, reads from it) Bingo, bridge tournaments, sand modeling, singalongs, paper folding, ball
oon twisting, sack race, bottle race, wheelchair race, aerobics, soap sculpture, piñata smashing, tug-of-war—the eighties versus the nineties on Tuesdays—
MR. MINGO. Yes, we’ve read all that, Duvall.
DUVALL. Well then, let’s get into the spirit of the thing. Why don’t we give a cheer? “We’re off to Avalon!” Okay? All together now. With me. You too, Mr. Niblis. (Raises hands in manner of song leader) WE’RE OFF TO AVALON! (But no one joins in) All right then, how about some coffee?
MR. MINGO. Yes, please.
MRS. VETCH. A cherry Coke for me, Duvall. In a glass, please, not a plastic cup.
DUVALL. Hey, you got it! Coming up!
Duvall exits to kitchen. Mr. Palfrey stares at the other old people. They steal glances at him. Finally, Mr. Mingo speaks to Mr. Palfrey.
MR. MINGO. Haven’t I seen you here before?
MR. PALFREY. Who are you?
MR. MINGO. I am Mr. Mingo.
MR. PALFREY. How old are you, Mr. Mingo?
MR. MINGO. I am carrying ninety-nine years on my back, sir. I am at death’s door.
MR. PALFREY. You look old but you don’t look that old.
MRS. VETCH. He’s really only about eighty-six.
MR. MINGO. Life plus ninety-nine years. That was my sentence.
MR. PALFREY. I knew he didn’t look that old.
MR. MINGO. The terms to run concurrently.
MRS. VETCH. Eighty-seven, I think, or eighty-eight.
MR. MINGO. Could be. Maybe so. I wouldn’t be surprised. Something like that.
MR. PALFREY. He looks all broke down and wore out but I knew he didn’t look that old.
MR. MINGO. I’ve seen you here more than once.
MR. PALFREY. Well, we’ve been stopping off here for two or three years now. Fern likes the lemon ice box pie. They always set a good table here at the Sunnyside. Sometimes we stop here and sometimes we stop at that barbecue joint down the road.
MRS. VETCH. You can forget about the lemon pie.
MR. MINGO. They no longer set a good table here. Miss Eula’s gone, you know. She sold out to Delray and we’re being evicted. Mrs. Vetch and I are the last of the old residents. And Mr. Niblis there. He likes to keep to himself.