Pause.
ROMA: That’s mighty funny. Do you think it’s mere
Coincidence that …
UI: Gentlemen, it’s not
An accident. Sheet’s suicide was plainly
The consequence of Sheet’s embezzlement.
It’s monstrous!
O’CASEY: Except it wasn’t suicide.
UI: What then? Of course Ernesto here and I
Were in Cicero last night. We wouldn’t know.
But this we know beyond a doubt: that Sheet
Apparently an honest businessman
Was just a gangster.
O’CASEY: Ui, I get your drift.
You can’t find words too damaging for Sheet
After the damage he incurred last night.
Well, Dogsborough, let’s get to you.
DOGSBOROUGH: To me?
BUTCHER, cuttingly:
What about Dogsborough?
O’CASEY: As I understand Mr
Ui – and I believe I understand
Him very well – there was a shipyard which
Borrowed some money which has disappeared.
But now the question rises: Who is this
Shipyard? It’s Sheet, you say. But what’s a name?
What interests us right now is not its name
But whom it actually belonged to. Did it
Belong to Sheet? Unquestionably Sheet
Could tell us. But Sheet has buttoned up
About his property since Ui spent
The night in Cicero. But could it be
That when this swindle was put over someone
Else was the owner? What is your opinion
Dogsborough?
DOGSBOROUGH: Me?
O’CASEY: Yes, could it be that you
Were sitting in Sheet’s office when a contract
Was … well, suppose we say, not being drawn up?
GOODWILL: O’Casey!
GAFFLES, to O’Casey:
Dogsborough? You’re crazy!
DOGSBOROUGH: I…
O’CASEY: And earlier, at City Hall, when you
Told us how hard a time the cauliflower
People were having and how badly they
Needed a loan – could that have been the voice
Of personal involvement?
BUTCHER: Have you no shame?
The man’s unwell.
CARUTHER: Consider his great age!
FLAKE:
His snow-white hair confounds your low suspicions.
ROMA: Where are your proofs?
O’CASEY: The proofs are …
UI Quiet, please!
Let’s have a little quiet, friends.
Say something, Dogsborough!
A BODYGUARD, suddenly roars: The chief wants quiet!
Quiet!
Sudden silence.
UI: If I may say what moves me in
This hour and at this shameful sight – a white-
Haired man insulted while his friends look on
In silence – it is this. I trust you, Mr
Dogsborough. And I ask: Is this the face
Of guilt? Is this the eye of one who follows
Devious ways? Can you no longer
Distinguish white from black? A pretty pass
If things have come to such a pass!
CLARK: A man of
Untarnished reputation is accused
Of bribery.
O’CASEY: And more: of fraud. For I
Contend that this unholy shipyard, so
Maligned when Sheet was thought to be the owner
Belonged to Dogsborough at the time the loan
Went through.
MULBERRY: A filthy lie!
CARUTHER: I’ll stake my head
For Dogsborough. Summon the population!
I challenge you to find one man to doubt him.
A REPORTER, to another who has come in:
Dogsborough’s under suspicion.
THE OTHER REPORTER: Dogsborough?
Why not Abe Lincoln?
MULBERRY and FLAKE: Witnesses!
O’CASEY: Oh
It’s witnesses you want? Hey, Smith, where is
Our witness? Is he here? I see he is.
One of his men has stepped into the doorway and made a sign. All look toward the door. Short pause. Then a hurst of shots and noise are heard. Tumult. The reporters run out.
THE REPORTERS: It’s outside. A machine-gun. – What’s your witness’s name, O’Casey? – Bad business. – Hi, Ui!
O’CASEY, going to the door: Bowl! Shouts out the door. Come on in!
THE MEN OF THE CAULIFLOWER TRUST: What’s going on? – Somebody’s been shot – On the stairs – God damn it!
BUTCHER, to Ui:
More monkey business? Ui, it’s all over
Between us if…
UI: Yes?
O’CASEY: Bring him in!
Policemen carry in a corpse.
O’CASEY: It’s Bowl. My witness, gentlemen, I fear
Is not in a fit state for questioning.
He goes out quickly. The policemen have set down Bowl’s body in a corner.
DOGSBOROUGH:
For God’s sake, Gaffles, get me out of here!
Without answering Gaffles goes out past him.
UI, going toward Dogsborough with outstretched hand:
Congratulations, Dogsborough. Don’t doubt
One way or another, I’ll get things straightened out.
A sign appears.
6
Hotel Mammoth. Ui’s suite. Two bodyguards lead a ragged actor to Ui. In the background Givola.
FIRST BODYGUARD: It’s an actor, boss. Unarmed.
SECOND BODYGUARD: He can’t afford a rod. He was able to get tight because they pay him to declaim in the saloons when they’re tight. But I’m told that he’s good. He’s one of them classical guys.
UI: Okay. Here’s the problem. I’ve been given to understand that my pronunciation leaves something to be desired. It looks like I’m going to have to say a word or two on certain occasions, especially when I get into politics, so I’ve decided to take lessons. The gestures too.
THE ACTOR: Very well.
UI: Get the mirror.
A bodyguard comes front stage with a large standing mirror.
UI: First the walk. How do you guys walk in the theatre or the opera?
THE ACTOR: I see what you mean. The grand style. Julius Caesar, Hamlet, Romeo – that’s Shakespeare. Mr Ui, you’ve come to the right man. Old Mahonney can teach you the classical manner in ten minutes. Gentlemen, you see before you a tragic figure. Ruined by Shakespeare. An English poet. If it weren’t for Shakespeare, I could be on Broadway right now. The tragedy of a character. ‘Don’t play Shakespeare when you’re playing Ibsen, Mahonney! Look at the calendar! This is 1912, sir!’ – ‘Art knows no calendar, sir!’ say I. ‘And art is my life.’ Alas.
GIVOLA: I think you’ve got the wrong guy, boss. He’s out of date.
UI: We’ll see about that. Walk around like they do in this Shakespeare.
The actor walks around.
UI: Good!
GIVOLA: You can’t walk like that in front of cauliflower men. It ain’t natural.
UI: What do you mean it ain’t natural? Nobody’s natural in this day and age. When I walk I want people to know I’m walking.
He copies the actor’s gait.
THE ACTOR: Head back. Ui throws his head back. The foot touches the ground toe first. Ui’s foot touches the ground toe first. Good. Excellent. You have a natural gift. Only the arms. They’re not quite right. Stiff. Perhaps if you joined your arms in front of your private parts. Ui joins his arms in front of his private parts. Not bad. Relaxed but firm. But head back. Good. Just the right gait for your purposes, I believe, Mr Ui. What else do you wish to learn?
UI: How to stand. In front of people.
GIVOLA: Have two big bruisers right behind you and you’ll be standing pretty.
UI: That’s bu
nk. When I stand I don’t want people looking at the two bozos behind me. I want them looking at me. Correct me!
He takes a stance, his arms crossed over his chest.
THE ACTOR: A possible solution. But common. You don’t want to look like a barber, Mr Ui. Fold your arms like this. He folds his arms in such a way that the backs of his hands remain visible. His palms are resting on his arms not far from the shoulder. A trifling change, but the difference is incalculable. Draw the comparison in the mirror, Mr Ui.
Ui tries out the new position before the mirror.
UI: Not bad.
GIVOLA: What’s all this for, boss? Just for those
Fancy-pants in the Trust?
UI: Hell, no! It’s for
The little people. Why, for instance, do
You think this Clark makes such a show of grandeur?
Not for his peers. His bank account
Takes care of them, the same as my big bruisers
Lend me prestige in certain situations.
Clark makes a show of grandeur to impress
The little man. I mean to do the same.
GIVOLA: But some will say it doesn’t look inborn.
Some people stick at that.
UI: I know they do.
But I’m not trying to convince professors
And smart-alecks. My object is the little
Man’s image of his master.
GIVOLA: Don’t overdo
The master, boss. Better the democrat
The friendly, reassuring type in shirtsleeves.
UI: I’ve got old Dogsborough for that.
GIVOLA: His image
Is kind of tarnished, I should say. He’s still
An asset on the books, a venerable
Antique. But people aren’t as eager as they
Were to exhibit him. They’re not so sure
He’s genuine. It’s like the family Bible
Nobody opens any more since, piously
Turning the yellowed pages with a group
Of friends, they found a dried-out bedbug. But
Maybe he’s good enough for Cauliflower.
UI: I decide who’s respectable.
GIVOLA: Sure thing, boss.
There’s nothing wrong with Dogsborough. We can
Still use him. They haven’t even dropped him
At City Hall. The crash would be too loud.
UI: Sitting.
THE ACTOR: Sitting. Sitting is almost the hardest, Mr Ui. There are men who can walk; there are men who can stand; but find me a man who can sit. Take a chair with a back-rest, Mr Ui. But don’t lean against it. Hands on thighs, level with the abdomen, elbows away from body. How long can you sit like that, Mr Ui?
UI: As long as I please.
THE ACTOR: Then everything’s perfect, Mr Ui.
GIVOLA: You know, boss, when old Dogsborough passes
on
Giri could take his place. He’s got the
Popular touch. He plays the funny man
And laughs so loud in season that the plaster
Comes tumbling from the ceiling. Sometimes, though
He does it out of season, as for instance
When you step forward as the modest son of
The Bronx you really were and talk about
Those seven determined youngsters.
UI: Then he laughs?
GIVOLA: The plaster tumbles from the ceiling. Don’t
Tell him I said so or he’ll think I’ve got
It in for him. But maybe you could make
Him stop collecting hats.
UI: What kind of hats?
GIVOLA: The hats of people he’s rubbed out. And running
Around with them in public. It’s disgusting.
UI: Forget it. I would never think of muzzling
The ox that treads my corn. I overlook
The petty foibles of my underlings.
To the actor.
And now to speaking! Speak a speech for me!
THE ACTOR: Shakespeare. Nothing else. Julius Caesar. The Roman hero. He draws a little book from his pocket. What do you say to Mark Antony’s speech? Over Caesar’s body. Against Brutus. The ringleader of Caesar’s assassins. A model of demagogy. Very famous. I played Antony in Zenith in 1908. Just what you need, Mr Ui. He takes a stance and recites Mark Antony’s speech line for line.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!
Reading from the little book, Ui speaks the lines after him. Now and then the actor corrects him, but in the main Ui keeps his rough staccato delivery.
THE ACTOR: I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious.
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it.
UI, continues by himself:
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest –
For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men –
Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me;
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill;
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And sure he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause?
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
During the last lines the curtain slowly falls.
A sign appears.
7
Offices of the Cauliflower Trust. Arturo Ui, Ernesto Roma, Giuseppe Givola, Emanuele Giri and bodyguards. A group of small vegetable dealers is listening to Ui. Old Dogsborough, who is ill, is sitting on the platform beside Ui. In the background Clark.
UI, bellowing: Murder! Extortion! Highway robbery!
Machine-guns sputtering on our city streets!
People going about their business, law-abiding
Citizens on their way to City Hall
To make a statement, murdered in broad daylight!
And what, I ask you, do our town fathers do?
Nothing! These honourable men are much
Too busy planning their shady little deals
And slandering respectable citizens
To think of law enforcement.
GIVOLA: Hear!
UI: In short
Chaos is rampant. Because if everybody
Can do exactly what he pleases, if
Dog can eat dog without a second thought
I call it chaos. Look. Suppose I’m sitting
Peacefully in my vegetable store
For instance, or driving my cauliflower truck
And someone comes barging not so peacefully
Into my store: ‘Hands up!’ Or with his gun
Punctures my tyres. Under such conditions
Peace is unthinkable. But once I know
The score, once I recognise that men are not
Innocent lambs, then I’ve got to find a way
To stop these men from smashing up my shop and
Making me, when it suits them put ’em up
And keep ’em up, when I could use my hands
For better things, for ins
tance, counting pickles.
For such is man. He’ll never put aside
His hardware of his own free will, say
For love of virtue, or to earn the praises
Of certain silver tongues at City Hall.
If I don’t shoot, the other fellow will.
That’s logic. Okay. And maybe now you’ll ask:
What’s to be done? I’ll tell you. But first get
This straight: What you’ve been doing so far is
Disastrous: Sitting idly at your counters
Hoping that everything will be all right
And meanwhile disunited, bickering
Among yourselves, instead of mustering
A strong defence force that would shield you from
The gangsters’ depredations. No, I say
This can’t go on. The first thing that’s needed
Is unity. The second is sacrifices.
What sacrifices? you may ask. Are we
To part with thirty cents on every dollar
For mere protection? No, nothing doing.
Our money is too precious. If protection
Were free of charge, then yes, we’d be all for it.
Well, my dear vegetable dealers, things
Are not so simple. Only death is free:
Everything else costs money. And that includes
Protection, peace and quiet. Life is like
That, and because it never will be any different
These gentlemen and I (there are more outside)
Have resolved to offer you protection.
Givola and Roma applaud.
But
To show you that we mean to operate
On solid business principles, we’ve asked
Our partner, Mr Clark here, the wholesaler
Whom you all know, to come here and address you.
Roma pulls Clark forward. A few of the vegetable dealers applaud.
GIVOLA: Mr Clark, I bid you welcome in the name
Of this assembly. Mr Ui is honoured
To see the Cauliflower Trust supporting his
Initiative. I thank you, Mr Clark.
CLARK: We of the Cauliflower Trust observe
Ladies and gentlemen, with consternation
How hard it’s getting for you vegetable
Dealers to sell your wares. ‘Because,’ I hear
You say, ‘they’re too expensive.’ Yes, but why
Are they expensive? It’s because our packers
And teamsters, pushed by outside agitators
Want more and more. And that’s what Mr Ui
And Mr Ui’s friends will put an end to.
FIRST DEALER: But if the little man gets less and less
How is he going to buy our vegetables?
UI: Your question is a good one. Here’s my answer:
Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 6 Page 19
