— You mean you're going to put on this circus while Mister Basic just sits here with the clock running? Is that why I just spent something like two hundred dollars getting all these copies made? Is there any earthly reason to have ten copies?
— Probably need more than that if we get in deeper Mrs Lutz, see but now you have copies Oscar maybe I could just take one along and then talk on the phone later?
— Oscar will you listen to him? Mister Basic's trying to tell you that you can save time and money if he takes a copy with him and reads it himself, couldn't you have simply mailed one to him? without dragging him all the way out here? and then discussed it on the phone? Isn't that why they invented the ungodly thing in the first place? to save people from tramping around the countryside on some stupid errand that no one in his right mind would, how many of these socalled students do you expect.
— Maybe only a dozen or so, I left the message that it would help their grades and…
— My God. Listen, I want that two hundred dollars I spent on those copies.
— Did you get a receipt? I'll need it for tax…
— I did not get a receipt! Simply give me the two hundred dollars.
— All right but, later yes listen, before they get here where are my glasses, listen. This might be useful in my complaint Mister Basic listen, it's a letter of Bernard Shaw talking about making movies from plays he says here 'set your analytical faculty, if you have any, to tabulate all the techniques involved in these extraordinary exhibitions…'
— Oscar, please…
—'Up to a certain point it pays. Most of the studios seem to live by it. But in such studios the dramatist can find no place. They know that they can do without him.'
— Oscar for God's sake what has this got to do with…
—'They don't even know, poor devils, that there is such a thing as a dramatic technique. Get drama and picture making separate in your mind, or you will make ruinous mistakes' and then he says…
— Might come in handy later on Oscar, see all we want right now is a few clearcut causes of action, opening guns you might say like this rejection, show they had their hands on it. You found that letter?
— I…
— Can't you simply say no Oscar? that you had that poor woman hauling a hundred heavy boxes down all those stairs and you don't really know whether it's in any of them? One letter, you expect to find one piece of paper in this whole mess, you've saved every letter anyone ever wrote you God only knows why they bothered, there are letters all over the place. What about that bundle you had me cart in to the hospital for no earthly reason but to cart them back out here, if you can't bear to simply throw them away you've a marvelous chance to get rid of them haven't you? this socalled historical society down there begging to add them to their distinguished collection?
— Why! For some doddering old women to paw through them wheezing over their sacred past, I've got my own archive haven't I? And this family correspondence they already claim to have should be in it too, it's mine isn't it? Ours?
— Why don't you ask your lawyer, he's sitting right here with the clock running.
— I don't have to ask anyone! It's our family correspondence, it's ours Mister Basic isn't it?
— Might have some trouble contesting who owns the actual letters but what they say, that still belongs to whoever said it, whoever wrote the letter, father, grandfather, grandmother, the rights pass right on down to the survivors. Might not be that bad an idea just to go ahead and register the copyright in your name, that way if some problem comes along you…
— Yes well do it then, you've got your yellow pad there write it down, can we do it?
— Just need some particulars, where they're deposited, who they…
— He didn't even know they existed till he heard from this preposterous historical society, he's probably lost that letter too.
— What do you mean too!
— I mean this rejection letter you're so pleased with that Mister Basic's sitting here with his clock running waiting for you to produce.
— Don't have to produce it right this second Oscar, state in the complaint they had this access and face the problem of proof when we have to, taking a little chance on these reasons they gave for rejecting it when we try to claim breach of implied contract as a cause for action but…
— They weren't reasons at all, nobody could have written that letter who'd really read the play it was probably just some twit of a secretary who typed up a form letter for Livingston to sign and…
— What Mister Basic is trying to tell you, Oscar, is that your Livingston Kiester person had to have read it if he was going to steal it, isn't that what this whole asinine business is all about?
— Well he, that's what I mean, would you believe anything he said? You can see how shifty he is just the way he's kept changing his name yes and I want that in, fraud and deceit changing his name twice to cover his tracks to put in the complaint?
— Put it in Oscar, but this intent can be real hard to prove, why somebody goes and changes his name? Smoke took shape in a ring billowing gently upward in the thin sunlight, — now you take your name, suppose you just decided that you…
— I've certainly got no intention of changing it yes and that's another thing, the way they're advertising this based on a true story with this cheap vulgar movie defaming my grandfather what about that.
— Can't defame the dead, Oscar.
— Well I'm not dead am I! Neither is Father, they got his decision reversed down there isn't that what they wanted? Dragging our name through the mud what about me, what about my professional reputation if anybody thought I had anything to do with it, if…
— Oscar, look out the…
— Christina, please! Because I don't care if you can't defame the dead I want that in there, I don't care if I can't copyright my own grandfather I want that in this complaint for the very first cause of action because it is, because it will let them know immediately that they're not just dealing with some, some nuisance.
— Oscar calm down, a dirty van just pulled in out there I think it's your cast of thousands.
— Oh! Oh yes let them in, have Ilse let them in, are they coming in?
— My God.
They could all sit on the floor he thought, mainly concerned lest they waste any time, passing round copies, assigning parts, sizing up the first act's tribulations with a haste such that it might indeed have been he who had first labeled it superfluous pressing on, now, with all the urgency he'd endowed in his protagonist, to get out, to leave the South behind with all its sacred past and simpering postulates and seize reality by the throat in an office in a western Pennsylvania mining city, midsummer eighteen sixty two, Act II, Scene i.
Smoke and evidence of the colliery are visible at the large window, upstage left. At downstage left center a rather ponderous desk littered with mail and newspapers, two chairs, and the effect of being partitioned off in a large glassed enclosure from the rest of the office beyond, reached by a glass-paneled door upstage right. Outside the door, at upstage right center, is another desk, far less pretentious but more littered. Cabinets of some sort, acceptable in but hardly designed for an office, stand within the inner office downstage right.
Neatly but unostentatiously dressed, THOMAS is standing at a window left staring out, as MR BAGBY advances from upstage right toward downstage center desk. Despite a concerted effort at florid respectability, there is a seediness about BAGBY that goes beyond his overtight clothes: shrewd, pompous, ingratiating by turns, he is constantly eyeing his man and the main chance without missing any of the minor ones by the way.
BAGBY
Why, we've one shaft sunk four hundred and thirty eight feet, and you cannot expect men to have kindly thoughts down there, whoever they are. And now, the kind that's come in, with the need for coal what it is? There's foreigners and all manner of undesirables, with their striking and looking for trouble. They get down there in the dark together and think up some new deviltry the minute you've settled an old, you meet one demand for them and they'll think up another. There's no end to their ingratitude. No, they want a tap on the head now and again, as your uncle would say, to knock some gratitude back into them.