All the Way
Also by Robert Schenkkan
The Great Society (forthcoming from Grove Press)
The Kentucky Cycle
By the Waters of Babylon
The Marriage of Miss Hollywood and King Neptune
Handler
Four One-Act Plays
The Dream Thief
Heaven on Earth
Final Passages
A Single Shard
The Devil and Daniel Webster
All the Way
ROBERT SCHENKKAN
Grove Press
New York
Copyright © 2014 by Robert Schenkkan
Introduction © 2014 by Bryan Cranston
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Scanning, uploading, and electronic distribution of this book or the facilitation of such without the permission of the publisher is prohibited. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. Any member of educational institutions wishing to photocopy part or all of the work for classroom use, or anthology, should send inquiries to Grove/Atlantic, Inc., 154 West 14th Street, New York, NY 10011 or [email protected].
ISBN 978-0-8021-2344-2
eISBN 978-0-8021-9173-1
Printed in the United States of America
Published simultaneously in Canada
CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that All the Way is subject to a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, and all British Commonwealth countries, and all countries covered by the International Copyright Union, the Pan-American Copyright Convention, and the Universal Copyright Convention. All rights, including professional, amateur, motion picture, recitation, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound taping, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such as information storage and retrieval systems and photocopying, and rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved.
Stock and amateur applications for permission to perform All the Way must be made in advance to Dramatists Play Service (440 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10016, 212-683-8960) and by paying the requisite fee, whether the plays are presented for charity or gain and whether or not admission is charged. First Class and professional applications must be made in advance to William Morris Endeavor Entertainment, LLC, Attn: Derek Zasky (1325 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10019, telephone: 212-586-5100) and by paying the requisite fee.
All the Way was developed, in part, with assistance from The Orchard Project, a program of The Exchange (www.exchangenyc.org).
All the Way was the recipient of the 2012 Edward M. Kennedy Prize for Drama Inspired by American History, which is awarded through Columbia University.
Grove Press
an imprint of Grove/Atlantic, Inc.
154 West 14th Street
New York, NY 10011
Distributed by Publishers Group West
www.groveatlantic.com
To S. and J. Always.
INTRODUCTION
by Bryan Cranston
“We interrupt this program to bring you a special report.”
I was seven years old, at home with a cold, when I first heard those words coming from the family’s modest black-and-white television. It was a pretty afternoon in Southern California on November 22, 1963, but a dark cloud hung low over the nation. Walter Cronkite’s authoritative image took over the screen and began to tell us in a disturbing, halting manner that our president had just been shot to death in Dallas, Texas. Cronkite wiped away a tear.
My mother shrieked in disbelief and immediately went to the ringing phone. The calls were frequent and each carried the same sense of dread: “I know, I can’t believe it either, it’s just awful.” Each call was accompanied by copious tears. The entire neighborhood was in shock and great despair. Families gathered to share their grief. This was a horrible event on a scale that I had never experienced before. It scared me. I had never seen my mother so upset. My father too. Even at seven I realized something was much more important than my own existence, and I began to think that I should start to pay attention to other things, including who our president is and what he’s saying to America. That focus fell onto our new leader, the thirty-sixth president of the United States, Lyndon Baines Johnson.
My impression of Johnson was that he was ultra-serious. He seemed like a lot of old guys of the era. The men in the gray flannel suits. Confident, laconic, powerful, and wearing what seemed like a perpetual scowl on his deeply creased face. A look of consternation. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time, but years later I learned that my impression of Johnson was not correct at all.
Early in 2012, Breaking Bad gave notice. We would end production after shooting a final sixteen episodes by March of 2013. I was as proud as anyone can be of a body of work, but I was also satisfied with the decision because it would mean that we’d go out on our own terms. On top. It also meant that I should start looking for my next job, a compulsion inherent in most actors. I felt that after thirteen years on television (seven with Malcolm in the Middle and six with Breaking Bad) that a move away from the ubiquity of TV was my best option. I asked my team at United Talent Agency to look for a play and hoped that we’d find one that had a level of importance and gravitas that would be rewarding and worth the necessary devotion of time. They did their due diligence and came back with All the Way, by Robert Schenkkan. The title was derived from Johnson’s campaign slogan in 1964, ALL THE WAY WITH LBJ! I had been offered a few plays that were destined for the Broadway stage before, but nothing like this.
All the Way had all the elements that any good story needs to keep the reader interested—better yet, invested—in the characters and plot. It’s huge, it’s historic, and indeed, important. The central role of the eclectic and unpredictable Lyndon Johnson was captivating. Like King Lear, he is a man both great in desire and accomplishments and weak in his despair and self-pity.
While doing research for the Broadway production, I came to understand him, to like him, feel sorry for him. He was an extremely complex man. He could be funny, threatening, warm, vindictive, sympathetic, and crude. Those who knew him speak of fascinating experiences with him—not always enjoyable, but always fascinating. Bill Moyers, the famous journalist, served as the president’s press secretary from 1965 to1967, and recently described him as “eleven of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.”
Robert Schenkkan has masterfully crafted a play that tells the story of the first year of Johnson’s presidency. It illustrates in compelling detail the difficulties of passing the landmark legislation of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Johnson’s quest to shed the label of “accidental president” and win the office on his own merit in November of that same year.
Robert’s play explores the inherent tension between Power and Morality by dramatizing Johnson’s political acumen in getting things done by any means necessary. His well-known manipulation of the key players in Washington was even nicknamed the “Johnson Treatment,” while other victims of the political arm-twisting aptly referred to it as receiving the old “Texas Twist.”
But there are parts of Johnson’s legacy that are more difficult to reckon with. He was the president who escalated the Vietnam War, a series of misguide
d decisions that haunted him and, I believe, informed the shocking and momentous decision he announced on March 31, 1968, not to seek a second term as president. The war had beaten him. In many ways he became a broken man. I suspect that the constant protests at the gates of the White House, the angry chants of “Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?” tore a hole in his heart, maybe even literally. His cardiovascular system weakened to an irreversible point, and he succumbed to a third heart attack (eerily, just as he had predicted) in January 1973. Dying in the way he feared most . . . alone.
Yet despite his political downfall, Johnson’s domestic accomplishments are legendary. No president in the twentieth century and beyond has had more success on the home front than he. Franklin D. Roosevelt comes to mind as the obvious contender to challenge that assertion, but he was in office before there were presidential term limits and served for nearly sixteen years until his death in 1944. Johnson himself invited the comparison to his idol Roosevelt, and even promoted the use of his own initials, LBJ, to echo FDR, one of the most famous presidents in American history.
Johnson was president for only five years, but his list of domestic accomplishments set down a foundation of laws that Americans depend on: the Voting Rights Act, Medicare and Medicaid, Head Start, the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, the National Endowment for the Arts, a strict environmental protection act, urban and rural development, his War on Poverty that helped millions of Americans rise above the poverty line, and the sweeping Immigration and Nationality Act, which removed all immigration origin quotas.
Even the Highway Beautification Act (a pet project of Lady Bird Johnson) gave the national highway system aesthetically pleasing scenery and landscaping to improve weary travelers’ sense of well-being. But the shining star of legislation then, and now, was the historic Civil Rights Act of 1964.
This landmark bill is the centerpiece for the play. Signed by Johnson just six months after taking office, the bill banned racial discrimination in public facilities, interstate commerce, and employment. Protection for minorities was now enshrined in federal law. As history, and this play, illustrates, it was an extremely difficult battle, even within the warring factions of the “Negro movement” of the time.
Ideological differences among Democrats threatened to tear the party apart . . . and eventually, they did. After one hundred years of staunchly democratic rule throughout the South, Johnson’s policies created a chasm between him and the powerful southern white men of power (dubbed the Dixiecrats) with whom he previously aligned himself, and indeed, the 1964 election turned the political tide in the South. As punishment for what it felt was a betrayal by Johnson, the South turned its back on him and the Democratic Party. It has been a Republican stronghold ever since.
Despite winning the election over conservative Republican Barry Goldwater by a landslide, Johnson fixated on the fact that he was the president that lost the South. It weighed on him, and he saw it as a rejection by his own people. He managed to get past that personal blow, went to work on developing his ambitious policies, and was the last of the truly liberal presidents. He believed that the purpose of the federal government was to create programs and protections for the people, backed by laws. He was once quoted, “What the hell is the point of bein’ president if you can’t do what you know is right?”
As an actor it is imperative to remain subjective to a character rather than objective. To justify instead of judge. It’s very different preparing for a major historical figure such as President Johnson, from a fictional one like Walter White in Breaking Bad. Reams of source material are available and can become overwhelming. But there is another responsibility that comes with this territory. A responsibility to the real-life character and to the project itself. I learned that several years ago when I was preparing to play astronaut Buzz Aldrin in the HBO miniseries From the Earth to the Moon. In a very short period of time, I read so much about him that I lost mental clarity and found it difficult to bridge the gap between what was historically accurate and what was dramatically necessary for the good of the project. Lesson learned. While preparing for All the Way, I absorbed this gigantic character incrementally, relieving me of the pressure to capture exactly who the man was and allowing me to trust that his essence would eventually come to the surface and dovetail with the requirements of a theatrical production.
You never know what or when inspirational material will seep into your being that will inform the character you are incumbent to portray. One seemingly small moment at the Johnson Library in Austin, Texas, held such inspiration.
Making my way through the formidable exhibit on the Kennedy assassination, the Oswald shooting, and the funeral procession in Washington (who alive back then can forget the sight of little John John’s salute?), I saw a small framed, handwritten letter addressed to the new president from Jackie Kennedy, dated less than a week after the assassination. In it Mrs. Kennedy describes two acts by Johnson that she greatly appreciated, one of courage, the other of kindness. The young widow expressed gratitude that President Johnson walked “with Jack” out in the open down Pennsylvania Avenue during the funeral procession. The Secret Service had implored the new president to follow in a covered vehicle for his protection. The full extent of the assassination wasn’t clear. But Johnson refused. He and Lady Bird walked right behind the Kennedy family as a sign of respect for the fallen president. That courage resonated within me. As, to an even greater degree, did the next thing mentioned in the short letter. Mrs. Kennedy thanked the president for writing two letters to her children, Caroline and John, about their brave father. She also thanked Johnson for expressing the love and admiration he had for her late husband. This act by Johnson reverberated to my core and helped set the foundation of what I was going to create for my character. Ironically, it speaks to character itself. Cynics may argue that he did it out of his well-documented need for love and acceptance. Point taken, but regardless of the motive, this man, who just days earlier had ascended to the most powerful office in the country under dire circumstances, took the time to sit down and write to two small children about their father, a man whom they would never come to know. It is remarkable. Commendable. Compassionate to the nth degree. I feel that I am a compassionate person, but being honest with myself, if I were in his shoes I wouldn’t have thought of such a selfless act of kindness. I don’t think many of us would.
Most people in my generation have harbored contempt for our thirty-sixth president. But I have to admit that I have come to feel compassion for him. The failure of Vietnam is owned by President Johnson. There is no hiding behind that, nor should there be. His actions during that war contributed to countless loss of life. But as fair as it is to judge him on that failure, it is unfair not to include his collective achievements when assessing his legacy. It may sound as though I have become an apologist for Lyndon Johnson, and to a degree perhaps I have. He was an enormous figure in American politics. Johnson’s political mold is broken. There may never be another politician like him. Who else would have the guts to risk losing his political base and lifelong friendships to pass sweeping changes in the law? Who else would beckon colleagues into the presidential bathroom and proceed to drop his drawers and take care of his business while not skipping a beat in the discussion? No, I think it’s safe to say that we have seen the last of his kind, a giant among men in stature and determination. A dinosaur. Extinct but not forgotten.
The greatest value of any play on an audience is its ability to stimulate conversation. All the Way did just that during its Broadway run in 2014. Rejoice in the history, sentimentalize it, deplore it, regret it . . . but talk about it. I’m not suggesting we subject ourselves to revisionism, but as we recognize the Civil Rights Act (now past its fiftieth anniversary), it seems an appropriate time to revisit history and give proper acknowledgement to the accomplishments of President Lyndon Baines Johnson.
I hope you enjoy reading All the Way as much as I did.<
br />
Sincerely,
Bryan Cranston
2014
A NOTE FROM THE DIRECTOR
From the Playbill for the 2012 World Premiere
It’s all Robert Schenkkan’s fault.
Libby Appel first hired me as a guest director at Oregon Shakespeare Festival in 2002 to stage Handler, Robert’s transcendent play about Pentecostal snake handlers. No one who saw it during its brief run can forget its power, and it is no overstatement to say that it changed my life. Without Robert’s vision, I never would have fallen in love with this company, this community, and this audience. Three years later, I had the privilege of directing the world premiere of Robert’s By the Waters of Babylon, written for long-term company members Armando Durán and Catherine Coulson. Three years later still, I was appointed OSF’s artistic director. As Alison Carey and I began to build the first class of commissioned playwrights for our American Revolutions: The United States History Cycle, it was a no-brainer that Robert Schenkkan would be among them.
Robert’s participation in American Revolutions was a foregone conclusion not only because of our personal history or his with this organization; Schenkkan has devoted his playwriting career to uncovering truths in American history. He won a Pulitzer for The Kentucky Cycle, but every Schenkkan play—no matter how intimate or epic the canvas—tells the story of how we aspire and how we often fail as a nation to meet up to our ideals.
All the Way chronicles the first eleven months of Lyndon Baines Johnson’s presidency. The story tells how nation-shifting legislation was accomplished and how the presidency was won in 1964. As we approach our 2012 presidential election, its relevance is stunning. Robert’s work, like so much of Shakespeare’s, examines power and morality. To perform this world premiere in repertory with another American Revolutions premiere, Party People, set partly in the same decade, as well as Shakespeare’s ultimate study of leadership in Henry V, reminds me of the deepest power of the Festival’s dual commitment to classics and new work, side by side.
All the Way Page 1
