Mike What are you leading up to, sir?
The Young Man
This, Mike! Tonight, the first night of Lent, for the first time in all the nights I've driven with you, you are sober!
He lets this sink in. mike lets it sink in, too, aghast.
Mike By God now, that's true.
The Young Man
And all those other two hundred nights you weren't driving slow and careful and easy just for my safety—
Mike
Well
The Young Man
—but because of the gentle warm spirits sloping now on this side, now on that side of you, as we took the long scything curves.
Mike (as if revealing something) If you must know, yes; I was drunk all of them nights.
They both sit and look at each other for a long moment.
The Young Man And now you've given up liquor for Lent?
Mike (nods righteously) You've noticed the improvement?
There is a moment of critical silence.
The Young Man Drive on, Mike.
mike starts the car with a roar. They thunder on, rocking silently, the young man studying the older.
Mike And here we are! Dublin's Fair City!
He stops the car. the young man gets thoughtfully out. He looks around at the imaginary city. He speaks to the audience.
The Young Man
Dublin's fair city. Oh, who really knows the Irish, say I, and which half of them is which? Mike? {Turns to look at the man) Which Mike is the real Mike? Which is the Mike that everyone knows? (Gasps, shakes his head as at a foul vision) I will not think on it. There is only one Mike for me. That one that Ireland shaped herself with her weathers and waters, her seedings and harvestings, her brans and mashes, her brews, bottlings, and swiggings. If you ask what makes the Irish what they are, I'd point on down the road (Points) and tell where you turn to find Heeber Finn's. (Turns) Mike?
Mike Sir?
The Young Man Wait here a second!
the young man runs offstage. He comes running back out a moment later, something hidden under his coat.
Will you do me a favor, Mike?
Mike Name it!
the young man winces at the loudness of that voice.
The Young Man Here.
Mike What's that, sir?
mike blinks at the bottle the young man has brought from hiding.
The Young Man A bottle of whisky.
Mike I rarely see a whole bottle of it. That's why I didn't recognize—
The Young Man
Mike, this is the first night of Lent, right? Now ... on the second night of Lent—
Mike Tomorrow night?
The Young Man
On the second night of Lent, when you come to pick me up, in Kilcock, will you drink this, Mike?
Mike Do you know what you're doing?
The Young Man Tempting you, Mike.
Mike {sore torn between) You are indeed.
The Young Man Take it, Mike.
Mike Ah, God, it's Lent.
The Young Man Only the first night.
Mike You said that before, but with repetition it makes sense.
The Young Man Give something else up!
Mike
Ah, Jesus, in all of Ireland, there's not so much joy, beauty, and riotous pleasure about you can count them on more than five fingers! Gimme the damn thing!
The Young Man Good old Mike!
Mike (eyeing the bottle) Do I drink it all?
The Young Man Or as much as will turn Mr. Hyde into Dr. Jekyll!
Mike How's that?
The Young Man (rephrasing it)
Enough so Mike will come for me tomorrow night, instead of you.
Mike Mike instead of me? I'm Mike. Michael Finneran Seamus Kelly!
The Young Man A re you?
He peers in at the fellow, mike gets his meaning, uncorks the bottle, takes a long swig.
Mike Ah!
He takes another swig as the young man beams, mike leans out, his voice immediately softer, mellower.
Is that better?
The Young Man Mike, Mike you're back!
Mike {nods slowly) I was long away.
The Young Man You were!
They clench hands in a great shake, steadfast, true.
Mike Here now, take these precious bits of pure gold!
He shoves over his cigarette pack.
The Young Man (taking them) Thanks, Mike.
Mike (gently) Ah, shut up.
The Young Man See you tomorrow?
Mike If we're both alive.
The Young Man Do you doubt we will be?
Mike (with a last swig) Strange—I'm thinking now—I'll live forever.
He drives off, waving beautifully, the young man watches the car go. He lights one of mike's1 cigarettes, studies it, studies the smoke on the air.
The Young Man
The Irish? The Irish. Here they come out of the mist. There they vanish into the rain.
He calls into the growing darkness.
Michael Finneran Seamus Kelly! Who and what are you?
He listens.
No answer. And (Checks watch)—already, look! It's the second day of Lent! So—what am / giving up?
He looks at the cigarette pack, rips it open. What indeed?!
He tears the cigarettes apart, sprinkles the tobacco about, beaming. A harp plays in the darkness offstage, the young man, hearing it, laughs and shrugs.
All right, all right! Let the harp play all it wants! I'm done, finished, through!
He moves briskly for the exit stage right as the harp lilts up playing a zestful reel. Just before exiting, the young man turns about once, and maybe clicks his heels. When he is gone, from the darkness mike reappears on his throne, in his car, swinging back out in one long wonderful slow curve, mike's smile is mellow. The motor is quiet. The harp plays gently now, as mike vanishes back into the Irish dark, and on away toward . . .
THE END
A Clear View of an Irish Mist
CHARACTERS
HEEBER FINN
KATHLEEN (HIS WIFE)
OLD MAN
CASEY TIMULTY
NOLAN
FATHER LEARY
HOOLIHAN (THE SALESMAN)
NOONAN
O'HARA
KELLY
At the rise of curtain we see the bar of Heeber Finn's pub somewhere deep in Ireland's jogs and rains, deserted in the early-morning hour. For a change, a rosy glare comes through the stained-glass windows to either side of the bar; the day has begun with rare weather.
heeber FINN enters, breathing the good air, scratching himself, yawning, fully dressed for a day of business. He looks about at the silent room.
Finn
Ah, there you are, waiting for it all to begin. What will happen today? Only God knows in the morning. By ten tonight /'// know. Some day I should set it down.
He moves about, arranging the chairs.
His Wife (entering) Set what down?
Finn
All that happens, Katy, in a single day with the doors open and the world flocking in.
His Wife Would you rather write it or live it?
Finn Since you put it that way—living's best.
His Wife
Live and work. I wish you'd do more of that. There's much needs mending here. That chair leans favoring the left, the table leans favoring the right. . . .
Finn (polishing)
Playing with these spigots is my work!
His Wife
And you play them fine, like the organist at the Variety Cinema in Cork, but—
Finn But, Woman! It's opening time!
His Wife (checking) Ten seconds after.
Finn (hustling) Wait till I get set up! Peep through the door! What do you see?
She peeps.
His Wife
A band of hoodlums, as is usual, elbowing each other and smacking their lips.
Finn Well, what are you waiting for?
His Wife (p
eeking through a chink) It does me good to make them stay out in the cold a bit overtime.
Finn You've a hard heart!
His Wife I thought you only worried about my soft behind.
She fiddles with the latch. There is a groan of relief from outside.
Ah, listen to them craitures stir, will ya? Like so many cows in need of milking!
She fiddles the latch again, smiling. Another groan from outside. They're fairly seething!
Finn Inhuman woman, let be!
She unlocks, unbolts, and lets the Red Sea in.
His Wife One at a time! No hurry!
The Old Man (entering indignant) One at a time? No hurry? What does she mean?
Casey Out of the way, Woman!
Timulty Lift me to the bar, I'm too weak to make it alone!
Nolan I'm famished!
Finn Come get it, Men!
The Old Man Finn, why the delay? You opened twenty seconds late!
His Wife (snorting) Twenty seconds! The shame of it!
She exits.
The Old Man Has she got the humors?
Finn
When hasn't she?
Nolan Women!
The Old Man
I'm glad you said that. Why is it, when a ship goes down, it's always women and children first to the lifeboats? Shouldn't it be the other way round?
Casey
Oh, my wife wouldn't mind going down with the ship. The question is: Would the ship mind going down with her?
The Old Man
I think we have found a proper subject to converse on for the day.
All drink, assenting.
Casey Break out the cards, we'll have a game!
All move away into the next room, dragging chairs, flourishing a deck of cards, carrying their drinks, laughing and warmly joyous. After the brief riot, there is a little storm of silence in the pub. the wife appears with a basket, on her way out to shop. She peers into the next room, sniffs.
His Wife Well, the avalanche is fair started down the mountain!
finn eyes her but she will not be eyed and goes off, away. Another silent moment, finn polishes glassware. Then: The doors open. It is father leary, from the church across the way.
Finn Father Leary, come in! We don't see you often!
Father I'm glad to hear that. I was beginning to worry.
Finn Will it be the Same?
Father
First you say you don't see me often, then you ask if it'll be the Same!
Finn No offense, Father. What'U it be?
Father The Usual.
Finn (pouring)
Begging your pardon, Father, but what's the difference between the Same and the Usual?
Father (drinking)
Same is too blunt, cold, hard a word. Usual is—well—more savory, at ease, you can roll it about on your tongue. (He savors the word) Us—u-al. Do you see?
Finn
As far as I need to, Father. And how's business? I mean—the Church, are people finding their way there through all the fog lately?
Father If they don't, I'll build hellfires to give them light.
Finn
Oh, you can do that, all right. You know, Father, I was thinking just the other day, you and me—is much alike. No offense.
Father (pausing in midsip) It's too early to tell. Go on.
Finn
I mean, the things you hear in the confessional and the things I hear behind the bar. There is a rough equivalation, now.
Father Very rough.
Finn (sotto voce) And neither of us can breathe a word.
Father Come now, Finn, you'll be putting on lace next.
Finn
Father, no word that's spoken goes back across this bar. I'm proud of my own peculiar vow of silence. If the church ain't open, Heeber Finn's is.
Father (controlling himself beautifully) You must be absolutely groaning with truckloads of sin.
Finn I got me share.
Father
You don't imply now, do you, that you're in competition with the Church? Eh?
Finn
Heaven forbid! And forgive my pride, but maybe I've eased your burden a bit, Father.
Father
Do you mean by that that some sins get waylaid here that I never hear about?
Finn
I only imply, Father, that I oil their tonsils so they can tell it better by the time they get over to you, thus cutting down the fearsome time you spend cooped up in the box—
Father Why, you're almost an annex to the Church, it seems!
Finn Now look what I've done—made you mad.
Father
I'm not mad, Finn, just surprised, and mad at myself ... for I thought I was over being surprised at the duplicity of man. You did come on me sudden, though, and I'd best leave.
He reaches in his pocket.
Finn (hastily) Put it in the poorbox, Father.
Father I will!
Finn
Come again for the—er—Usual, Father!
Half out the door, father leary turns, frowning.
Father Not the Usual, man! (A beat)—The Same!
The wickets slam. He's gone.
finn busies himself, stacking glasses and wiping the bar. As he does so, from a distance a high clear tenor voice is heard, approaching. There is also the sound of footsteps coming near. The song being sung is as follows:
The Salesman's Voice (Off) "All through life Mid storm and strife . . . With maid or wife, It's the thinkin' Not the drinkin' Makes it go."
The voice stops. The wickets open. A salesman stands looking in and about the pub.
finn has frozen at the words of the song. He does not turn now as the stranger advances easily toward the bar.
The Salesman
Though I must admit, there be occasions when the very wheels of Juggernaut are kept turning with drink. A Guinness, please.
This friendly sally does not unfreeze finn at all; he draws the drink without looking up.
the salesman looks at finn and senses diplomacy is needed. I see that your spine is all one piece because of my song.
Finn {turning at last) The song was a touch subversive of my business.
The Salesman (sings) "It's the thinkin' And the drinkin' Makes it go." Is that better?
Finn (putting the drink on the bar) Why didn't you sing it that way to start?
The Salesman I'm a proud man.
Finn (letting the drink go)
Pride's no sin, if it has to do with your business. What line are you in?
The Salesman I guess you'd call me a Salesman of Philosophy.
Finn Now, how do you sell that?
The Salesman Here!
He swings a small case onto the bar.
Do you know the saying "Infinite riches in a little room"?
Finn I know it now.
The Salesman Well, in this h'ttle case is the "furniture" I'm selling.
Finn For a doll house, then?
The Salesman No, to decorate the palace of man's mind!
He opens up the case and puts forth a single item on the counter.
Finn {confounded) That's it?
The Salesman {proudly) That's it! Fine hand-painted bone porcelain.
Finn
Don't look like much to me. {Moving around front) Furniture, you say.
He stops. He approaches the little object slowly, peering at it. It is about eight inches long and three inches high. There is a single word on it, a word in white letters on a black background.
{Spelling out loud) T ... H ... it says . . . I and N and K. THINK/ Is that all?
The Salesman I'm inclined to say it's everything!
Finn {half-suspicious) What does it mean?
The Salesman Just what it says, friend. Think. Think. THINK!
the salesman's voice grows in timbre and volume each time he says the word. Then he subsides and sips his Guinness.
Finn {uneasily)
Ye-ess, I see what you're getting at. But what d
o you do with a bit of furniture like that? To what purpose is it?
The Salesman To what purpose? God save me!
Before finn can stop him, he is around the bar and placing the little sign on top of a Guinness barrel.
There! Now, pretend you're your own best customer, and I'm yourself, the bartender. You got your drink in your hand.
He nudges the drink. Finn takes and holds the glass. You sip your drink. finn sips.
You raise your eyes
FINN raises his eyes. And what do you see?
Finn "Think"?
The Salesman Right! You drink some more.
finn drinks.
You stare at that little sign . . . and . . . first thing you know . . . you're . . .
Finn Thinking!
The Salesman Ah, now you got the sun up. You're standing in the light!
Finn (sips, stares; sips, stares) Ah ... ah ... yes ... I see.
The Salesman I know you do!
finn looks at the man with fresh admiration.
Finn You be a kind of intellectual, then?
The Salesman I—er—knocked at the door of Trinity College!
Finn
What stopped your plunging through?
the salesman refills both glasses, playing bartender with a fine air.
The Salesman
Well, I shaped it up in my mind. Hoolihan, I said to myself, why put off helping others half your life? Why not start this day? How? I said. Well, I said, what's mainly wrong with the world? What? I said. No one stops to think any more, I said. And for lack of stopping to think, what happens?
Finn (leaning toward him) A great lot, one supposes.
The Salesman
Wars, famines, depressions, murderous impulses, bad livers, short breaths, unwanted children, and marriages best kept running on whisky for fear of seeing the true aspect!
Finn (enchanted) Say that again.
The Salesman If you don't mind, I'll let the echoes die.
Finn
Right! That's a beautiful thing there, the little bit of porcelain and that single word. Already I feel a popping in my ears, like I'm on a mountain! It's amazing how full of thoughts I suddenly am.
The Salesman
Think what it'll do for your customers, then, and the brand of talk they'll spray at one another! In one hour, in this room, the humidity will rise ten points!
Finn All I do is leave it set right there, eh?
The Salesman Right there. Nothing to wind, nothing to grease or oil, nothing to get out of whack. A simple machine it is, and'll make men's minds "GO"!
Bradbury, Ray - SSC 10 Page 4
