The packing plants go under.
MAULER:
No higher, Slift, I wouldn’t advise it.
They’re at the end of their tether.
Bleed them okay, but don’t kill them
For if they bite the dust
We bite it too.
SLIFT:
There’s life in ’em yet. Higher, higher!
Five hundred steers at seventy-seven.
THE SMALL SPECULATORS:
Seventy-seven. Hear that? Why didn’t you
Buy when the price was seventy-five? Now
It’s seventy-seven and still going up.
THE PACKERS: Mauler’s buying our cans at fifty. How can we pay him eighty for his livestock?
MAULER (to those around him): Where are those men I sent to the stockyards?
A MAN: There’s one of them now.
MAULER: Well, what’s the story?
FIRST DETECTIVE (reporting): The crowds, sir, reach farther than the eye can see. If one were to shout the name of Joan, ten or a hundred might answer. Faceless and nameless, they sit waiting. Besides, a single voice could never make itself heard with all those people running around, shouting for members of their families who’ve gone astray. And in the districts where the unions are at work the excitement is at fever pitch.
MAULER: Who’s at work? The unions? And the police look on while they agitate? Hell and damnation! Call up the police this minute, use my name, ask them what we’re paying taxes for. Tell them to bash the agitators’ heads in, don’t beat about the bush.
The first detective goes out.
GRAHAM:
All right then, Mauler, if we die we die.
A thousand steers at seventy-seven. That’s our death.
SLIFT:
Five hundred to Graham at seventy-seven.
Anything more will cost him eighty.
MAULER (has come back):
This business, Slift, amuses me
No longer. It could lead too far.
Drive the price up to eighty, but
Then let them go at eighty.
Give them their steers and let them off the hook.
Enough’s enough, this city needs
A breathing spell and I have other worries.
This throttling, Slift, does not amuse me
Nearly as much as I expected.
(He sees the second detective.)
Have you found her?
THE SECOND DETECTIVE: No, I haven’t seen anyone in the uniform of the Black Straw Hats. A hundred thousand people are milling around the stockyards, it’s dark, and no one could shout above that bitter wind. Besides, the police are clearing the stockyards and starting to shoot.
MAULER:
To shoot? At whom? Yes, yes, of course.
How strange. In here one doesn’t hear a thing!
So they can’t find her, and there’s shooting? Go
To the phone booths, find Jim and tell him not to phone
For if he does, they’ll say as usual that we
Told the police to shoot.
The second detective goes out.
MEYERS:
Fifteen hundred at eighty.
SLIFT:
Only five hundred at eighty!
MEYERS:
Five thousand at eighty! Cutthroat!
MAULER (has gone back to the pillar):
Slift, I feel sick. Lay off.
SLIFT: I wouldn’t dream of it. There’s life in ’em yet. If you can’t take it, I’ll drive them higher.
MAULER:
Slift, I need air. You carry on. I can’t.
Respect my wishes, though. I’d rather
Lose everything than have
Some new disaster on my conscience. Don’t
Go above eighty-five! And
Respect my wishes. You know me.
He runs into some reporters on his way out.
THE REPORTERS: Hi, Mauler! What’s new?
MAULER (on his way out): I want it made known in the stockyards that I’ve released livestock to the packers, so now they’ve got livestock. Otherwise there’d be violence.
SLIFT: Five hundred steers at ninety!
THE SMALL SPECULATORS:
We heard Mauler say
To let them go for eighty-five. Slift has no right.
SLIFT:
That’s a lie. I’ll teach you to
Sell meat in cans and
Have no meat!
Five thousand steers at ninety-five!
Uproar.
g
Stockyards.
Many people waiting, among them Joan.
PEOPLE: Why are you sitting here?
JOAN: I have a letter to deliver. Three men are coming.
A group of reporters come along, led by a man.
THE MAN (pointing at Joan): That’s her. (To Joan:) These men are reporters.
THE REPORTERS: Hello, there. Are you Joan Dark of the Black Straw Hats?
JOAN: No.
THE REPORTERS: We were told in Mr Mauler’s office that you’ve sworn not to leave the stockyards before the packing plants are opened. We’ve got the story right here, you can read it in bold type on the front page. (Joan turns away. The reporters read aloud:) Joan Dark, Our Lady of the Stockyards, says God is on the side of the packing house workers.
JOAN: I never said anything of the kind.
THE REPORTERS: We want to tell you, Miss Dark, that public opinion is with you. Except for a few unscrupulous speculators, all Chicago sympathizes with you. This’ll give your Black Straw Hats a big boost.
JOAN: I’m not with the Black Straw Hats any more.
THE REPORTERS: That can’t be. As far as we’re concerned, you’ll always be a Black Straw Hat. But we won’t bother you. We’ll just sit quietly over there.
JOAN: I wish you’d go away.
They sit down at some distance.
WORKERS (offstage, in the stockyards):
They will not open the packing houses
Until our affliction is at its height.
When our misery grows greater
They will open up.
But answer us they must.
Don’t go away. Wait for the answer!
COUNTERCHORUS (also offstage):
Wrong! No matter how great our misery grows
They will not open the packing houses.
Not until their profits grow greater.
Their answer will come
From cannon and machine guns.
No one can help us but we ourselves
Only to our fellow workers
Can we appeal!
JOAN: Do you believe that, Mrs Luckerniddle?
MRS LUCKERNIDDLE: Yes, that’s the truth.
JOAN:
I see the system. Its surface
Has long been known, but not
The inner workings. I see some people, a few, on top
And many down below, and those on top
Shout down to those below: Come up, then all
Of us will be on top. But if you look
Closely, you’ll see a hidden something
Between the ones on top and those below. It
Looks like a path, but no, it’s not a path.
More like a plank, and now you see it plainly, it’s
A seesaw. That’s it. This whole
System’s a seesaw with two ends
Depending on each other. Those on top
Are where they are because the others
Are down below, and they will stay up top
Only so long as the others stay down. They’d be
On top no longer if the others, leaving their
Old place, came up. And so it is that those
On top inevitably want those below to
Stay there for all eternity and never rise.
And anyway, there have to be more people down below
Than up on top to keep the seesaw in position
For that’s the way with seesaws.
The re
porters stand up and go to the rear, because some news has just reached them.
A WORKER (to Joan): What did those men want of you?
JOAN: Nothing.
THE WORKER: But they spoke to you.
JOAN: They thought I was somebody else.
AN OLD MAN (to Joan): Say, you’re shivering. Want a slug of whiskey? (Joan drinks.) Stop! Stop! You’ve had enough to kill a mule.
A WOMAN: Some nerve!
JOAN: Did you say something?
THE WOMAN: I sure did. Some nerve! Drinking up the old man’s whiskey!
JOAN: Shut up, you ninny! Hey, where’s my scarf? They’ve gone and stolen it. They stop at nothing! Stealing my scarf! Who swiped my scarf? Give it back this minute. (She tears the sack off the head of the woman next to her, who defends herself.) It’s you all right. Don’t start telling lies, and give me that sack.
THE WOMAN: Help, she’s killing me.
A MAN: Take it easy!
Someone tosses her a rag.
JOAN:
If you people had your way, I’d be sitting here in this draught stark naked.
It wasn’t this cold in my dream. When I
Came to the stockyards with great plans, encouraged
By dreams, I never dreamt that it could be
So cold here. What I miss more than
Anything else is my warm scarf. For you people
Hunger’s no problem. You haven’t any food.
For me they’re waiting with a bowl of soup.
You’re used to being cold, but I
Can go to that warm room at any time
Pick up the flag and beat the drum
And talk of HIM who dwelleth in the clouds.
What have you left behind you? I have left
A calling and what’s more a job
A noble way of life, but also
A tolerable livelihood.
It seems almost like play-acting
Somehow disgraceful that I should stay out here when I
Don’t absolutely have to. And yet:
I cannot leave, although, I tell you frankly
I’m choked with terror when I think of this
Not eating, not sleeping, not knowing where I’m at
This common hunger, this abysmal cold
And worst of all, this wanting to go away.
WORKERS:
Stay where you are! Whatever happens
Don’t break ranks!
Only by staying together
Can you help yourselves!
You have been betrayed
By all your official spokesmen
And by your unions, which have sold out.
Listen to no one, believe nothing
But consider every suggestion
That might bring real change. Above all, learn
That force alone can help you
And that you yourselves must wield it.
The reporters come back.
THE REPORTERS: Hi, kid. You’ve swung it. We’ve just heard that the millionaire Pierpont Mauler, who has been holding enormous lots of livestock, has started selling to the packers in spite of the rising prices. The packing plants will be open tomorrow.
JOAN: Oh, that is good news!
MRS LUCKERNIDDLE: That’s the kind of lies our people were talking about. It’s a good thing we’ve got the truth in our letter.
JOAN:
Listen, there’s work!
The ice has melted in their hearts. At least
The righteous man among them
Has proved himself. Appealed to as a man
He has responded as a man. There is
Such a thing as goodness.
Machine-gun fire is heard in the distance.
What’s that?
A REPORTER: Machine guns. The army’s been ordered to clear the stockyards, because now that the plants are being reopened, the agitators, who are inciting the masses to violence, must be silenced.
A WOMAN: Should we go home now?
A WORKER: How do we know that there’s really going to be work?
JOAN: Why wouldn’t it be true if these gentlemen say so? People don’t joke about things like that.
MRS LUCKERNIDDLE: Don’t be a fool. You have no sense at all. You know why? Because you haven’t been sitting out here in the cold long enough. (She gets up.) I’m going over to our people now to tell them the lies have started in. But you stay right here with that letter, understand! (She goes away.)
JOAN: But they’re shooting.
A WORKER: Don’t worry. The stockyards are so big it’ll be hours before the soldiers get here.
JOAN: How many are there?
THE REPORTERS: Maybe a hundred thousand.
JOAN:
So many?
Oh, what an unknown school, this lawless snow-
Filled world, where hunger teaches and need
Speaks perforce of necessity!
You hundred thousand pupils, what are you learning?
WORKERS (offstage):
If you stick together
They will slaughter you.
We advise you to stick together!
If you fight
Their tanks will crush you.
We advise you to fight!
This battle will be lost
And maybe the next one
Will also be lost.
But you will learn how to fight
And learn
That force alone can help you and
That you yourselves must wield it.
JOAN:
Stop! That’s enough teaching!
Your teaching is too cold!
Force is not the answer to
Disorder and confusion.
True, the temptation is great!
Another night like this, another day of this
Oppressive silence and no one
Would hold himself back. True
You have stood together
For many nights and many years, learning
To think coldly and cruelly.
True, violence builds up in the darkness
Weakness and weakness build strength and
Unfinished business accumulates.
But who will sit down to the meal
You people are cooking?
I’m getting out of here. No good can come of violence.
I don’t belong with these people. If hunger and the heel of poverty had taught me violence as a child, I’d be one of them and I wouldn’t ask any questions. As it is, I’ll have to be going. (She remains seated.)
THE REPORTERS: We advise you to leave the yards in a hurry. You’ve made the front page, but the show is over now.
They leave.
Shouting from the rear, coming closer. The workers stand up.
A WORKER: They’ve got the men from union headquarters.
The two labour leaders, handcuffed, are led past by detectives.
THE WORKER (to one of the handcuffed leaders): Don’t worry, Bill. This isn’t the end of the story.
ANOTHER WORKER (shouts after the group): Bloodhounds!
FIRST WORKER: If they think this’ll stop us, they’ve got it wrong. Our boys are prepared for everything.
In a vision Joan sees herself as a criminal, outside the familiar world.
JOAN:
Those men who gave me the letter. Why
Are they handcuffed? What is in
That letter? I could never
Take an action requiring violence and
Breeding violence. He who does so
Would have to be moved by malice
Against his neighbour, and closed
To all the understandings
Customary among men.
Cut off from all community, he would find
No bearings in
A world grown unfamiliar. The movement of the stars
Over his head would no longer be governed by
The old rule. Words
Would change their meaning for him, innocence
Forsake him, the pursued pursuer
His vision would lose all candour.
I couldn’t be like that. That’s why I’m leaving.
For three days Joan was seen
In Packingtown, in the swamp
Of the stockyards, going down
Lower and lower, hoping to transfigure the muck
And be a light to the poorest of the poor.
For three days striding downward
She weakened on the third day and in the end was
Engulfed by the swamp. Say:
It was too cold.
She stands up and goes away. Snow is falling.
MRS LUCKERNIDDLE (comes back): Nothing but lies! Where’s that woman who was sitting with me?
A WOMAN: Gone.
A WORKER: I knew she’d beat it when it really started snowing.
Three workers come along, look around and, not finding the person they are looking for, leave. As it grows dark, a sign appears:
The snow’s blowing this way
So who would want to stay?
The same as always stayed before:
The stony soil and the very poor.
h
PIERPONT MAULER CROSSES THE BORDER OF POVERTY
Street corner in Chicago
MAULER (to one of the detectives):
No further, let’s turn back. What’s that you say?
You laughed, admit it! Let’s turn back, I said
And then you laughed. They’ve started shooting again.
Seems to be some resistance. But get this through
Your heads. My turning back a couple of times
As we approached the stockyards doesn’t mean
A thing. Stop thinking about it. I’m not paying you
To think. I had my reasons. I’m known there. Now
You’re thinking again. Looks like I hired a couple
Of blockheads. Anyway we’re turning back. I hope
Good sense has moved that girl I’m looking for
To leave the stockyards where all hell
Seems to have broken loose.
(A newsboy passes.)
Hey, paper! Let’s see what’s happening on the livestock market!
(He reads and turns chalky-white.)
Something has happened all right. This changes everything.
It’s written here in black and white that livestock
Is down to thirty and that not a head
Is being sold, because, it says again
In black and white, the packers have gone bust
And left the livestock market. It also says
That Mauler and his sidekick Slift are flatter broke
Than all the rest. That’s what it says. Which brings
Us to a situation which I didn’t
Aim at, but welcome with relief.
I can no longer help them
For I put all my livestock
At the disposal of the public at large
Brecht Collected Plays: 3: Lindbergh's Flight; The Baden-Baden Lesson on Consent; He Said Yes/He Said No; The Decision; The Mother; The Exception & the ... St Joan of the Stockyards (World Classics) Page 28
