Nolan Buy the Yank a drink!
Finn (passing bottle) On the house!
The Young Man (drinks, wipes mouth) After all, I was in London a month. "God Save The Queen" had begun to pall. It's surely the same after all these years for you and your National Anthem. (Hastily) No disrespect meant.
Finn And none taken!
Timulty
Or given by any of us patriotic I.R.A. veterans, survivors of the Troubles, lovers of country. Still, breathing the same air ten thousand times makes the senses reel. So, as you've noted, in that God-sent three- or four-second interval, any audience in its right mind beats it the hell out. And the best of the crowd is—
The Young Man Doone. Your Anthem Sprinter.
The Old Man Smile at the man.
Everyone smiles at the American, who smiles easily back.
Now! Stand near! At this moment, not one hundred feet through that door and down the slight declivity toward the silver screen, seated on the aisle of the fourth row center is O'Gavin . . .
The Young Man . . . your other Anthem Sprinter.
Nolan (tipping his cap) The man's eerie.
Timulty (impressed) O'Gavin's there, all right. He's not seen the filhim before—
The Young Man (looks up) What, Clark Gable in It Happened One Night?
Nolan
Ah, that was last month. They've not got around to taking down the names.
Timulty
This fillum tonight is a Deanna Durbin brought back by the asking, and the time is now . . .
Finn holds up his watch. All lean toward it.
Finn Ten-thirty o'clock.
Timulty
In five minutes the cinema will be letting the customers out in a herd . . .
The Old Man
And if we should send Doone here in for a test of speed and agility . . .
Doone (dancing about) It's stripped to the buff I am!
The Old Man . . . O'Gavin would be ready to take the challenge!
The Young Man O'Gavin didn't go to the show just for an Anthem Sprint, did he?
The Old Man
Good grief, no. He went for the Deanna Durbin songs and all, him playing the banjo and knowing music as he does. But, as I say, if he should casually note the entrance of Doone here, who would make himself conspicuous by his late arrival, O'Gavin would know what was up. They would salute each other and both sit listening to the dear music until Finis hove in sight.
Doone (doing knee-bends) Sure, let me at him, let me at him!
Douglas Do—do you have Teams?
TlMULTY
Teams! There's the Galway Runners!
FOGARTY
The Connemara Treadwells!
The Old Man The Donnegal Lightfoots!
TlMULTY
And the fastest team of all is made up of Irishmen living in London.
The Old Man (reverently) "The Queen's Own Evaders"!
Fogarty Fast, do you see, to flee from "God Save The Queen"?
All laugh, assent, pummel, gather about, finn searches the writer's face.
Finn
I see the details of the sport have bewildered you. Let me nail down the rules. Fogarty?!
Fogarty Here!
Finn Door-listener supreme! Nolan! Kelly!
Nolan and Kelly Here!
Finn
Aisle-superintendent judges! Myself—(Shows watch)—Timekeeper. General spectators: Casey, Peevey, and Dillon. You've met Doone. O'Gavin's in the depths, there! So much for the participants. Now, the sports arena. (Moves, pointing) Much depends on the character of the theatre.
The Young Man The character?
The Old Man (hustling along)
Here's the exits, ya see? And inside—(Opens a door, points) —the lobby . . .
Finn (cuts in)
Now, there be some liberal free-thinking theatres with grand aisles, grand lobbies, grand exits, and even grander, more spacious latrines . . .
Nolan (cutting in)
Some with so much porcelain, the echoes alone put you in shock . . .
Timulty (cutting in)
And then again there's the parsimonious mousetrap cinemas with aisles that squeeze the breath from you, seats that knock your knees, and doors best sidled out of on your way to the men's lounge in the sweet-shop across the alley.
The Old Man
Each theatre is carefully assessed before, during, and after a Sprint. A runner is judged by whether he had to fight through men and women en masse, mostly men, women with shopping bags which is terrible, or worst still, children at the flypaper matinees.
Nolan (illustrating)
The temptation with children of course is lay into them as you'd harvest hay, tossing them in windrows to left and right.
The Old Man
So we've stopped that. Now it's nights only here at the ideal cinema of them all.
The Young Man Ideal? Why?
Kelly (displays tape measure) Its aisles, do you see, are neither too wide nor too narrow.
He and the old man pace off by the exit door. They illustrate with the tape.
Its exits are well placed.
The Old Man (tests door) The door hinges oiled.
They open the door and point in. the young man peers.
Timulty
Its crowds, do you see? are a proper mixture of sporting bloods and folks who mind enough to leap aside should a Sprinter, squandering his energy, come dashing up the way.
The Young Man (suddenly thoughtful) Do you . . . handicap your runners?
Finn We do!
The Old Man
Some nights, we put a summer coat on one, a winter coat on another of the racers.
Timulty Or seat one chap in the fifth row, while the other takes the third.
Finn
And if a man turns terrible feverish swift, we add the sweetest known burden of all—
The Young Man Drink?
All Ah ... ah ... ah ...
All laugh, mumble, move in to clap and pat the dear, knowledgeable boy.
The Old Man
What else! Nolan! Run this in! Make O'Gavin take two swigs, big ones! (Aside) He's a two-handicap man.
nolan runs through the door.
Nolan Two it is!
TlMULTY
While Doone here has already made his weight at Heeber Finn's.
Doone (drinking from the bottle) Even all!
Kelly
Go on, Doone. Let our money be a light burden on you. Let's see you burst out that exit, five minutes from now, victorious and first.
Finn Doone! Inside!
doone shakes hands all around. He waves to everyone as if going on a long voyage, opens the door. Sweet music flushes out about him—he basks in it a moment, then plunges through into darkness, gone. At which point nolan bursts back out.
Nolan (waves flask) O'Gavin's handicapped!
The Old Man
Fine! Kelly, now, go check the contestants, be sure they sit opposite each other in the fourth row, caps on, coats half buttoned, scarves properly furled.
Kelly (running) It's already done!
kelly vanishes back through in a surge of music of great romance.
Finn (checking his watch) In two more minutes—
The Young Man (innocently) Post Time?
Timulty (with admiring affection) You're a dear lad.
Kelly (bursting through door) All set! They're ready!
Fogarty (listening at the door)
'Tis almost over, you can tell, toward the end of any fillum, the music has a way of getting out of hand!
He opens the door wide and nods in. Sure enough, the music is in full heat now, surging all over the place. All listen and nod, eyes closed.
Timulty
Full orchestra and chorus behind the singing maid. I must come tomorrow for the entirety.
Finn (entranced) What's the tune?
The Old Man Ah, off with the tune! Lay the bets!
Finn (recovering) Right! Who's for Doone, who O'Gavin?
A
ll (hustling about, waving money and paper) Doone! A shilling for O'Gavin. Doone! Two says it's Doone! Four on O'Gavin!
The Young Man (holding out money) O'Gavin.
Finn (shocked) Without having seen him?
The Young Man (whispers) A dark horse.
TlMULTY
A brave choice. Kelly, Nolan, inside as aisle judges. Watch sharp there's no jumping the Finis.
In go kelly and nolan, happy as boys.
Finn Make an aisle now. Yank, you over here with me!
All rush to form a double line, one on either side of the exit.
TlMULTY
Fogarty, lay your ear to the door!
Fogarty (does so) The damn music is extra loud!
The Old Man (sotto voce to the young man) It will be over soon. Whoever's to die is dying this moment!
Fogarty Louder still! There!
He holds one door half wide. The last single chord of music blasts out.
Finn The grand ta-ta! By God!
The Young Man (a quiet exclamation) They're off!
Finn Stand aside! Clear the door!
Fogarty (listens) Here they come!
Finn Listen to their feet!
The Old Man Like thunder it is!
We hear the feet rushing.
Finn Come on, O'Gavin!
Timulty Doone! Doone!
All Doone! O'Gavin! Doone! O'Gavin!
The doors burst wide, doone, breathless, plunges out alone.
The winner!
Doone (surprised) By God, so I am!
Finn
'Tenshun! The National Anthem!
He holds the door wide. The men whip off their caps. The Anthem speeds swiftly to its end.
The Young Man (puzzled) That was quick. Did they leave something out?
Finn What didn't they!!
The Old Man
Over the years, by some miracle or other, the Anthem has got shorter and shorter.
Doone Where's my competition?
All suddenly realize doone stands alone, blinking back into the cinema dark, from which nolan and kelly emerge, bewildered.
The Old Man Jesus, you're right! Where's O'Gavin!
Nolan The idiot didn't run out the wrong exit, did he?
Doone (calling into the dark) O'Gavin!?
Kelly Could he've sprinted into the Men's?
Finn Now what would he do there?
The Old Man (snorts) There's a son of ignorant Ireland for you! O'Gavin!
Fogarty
Good grief, maybe coming up the aisle he had a heart attack and is lying there in the dark gasping his—
All
That's it!
The men riot through the door, the young man last.
Nolan Maybe he broke his leg.
Kelly Did you bring the gun?
The Old Man Ah, off with the gun! O'Gavin? Dear lad? How is it?
They mob around down, perhaps to the first row of the theatre, where they all peer at one man seated alone.
Nolan O'Gavin!
Finn
You haven't moved!
The Old Man
Why are you sittiri there?
Finn What's that on his cheek?
Fogarty {bends close, peers) A teardrop! A tear!
O'Gavin {moans) Ah, God!
Finn O'Gavin, are ya sick?
They all bend close.
O'Gavin
Ah, God . . .
He rises slowly and turns, brushing a tear from his eye. He shakes his head beatifically, eyes shut.
She has the voice of an angel.
The Young Man Angel?
O'Gavin {nods back at the stage) That one up there, on the silver screen.
They all turn to stare at a silver screen that has come down behind them, where Finn's pub once was.
The Young Man Deanna Durbin, does he mean?
O'Gavin {blowing his nose) The dear dead voice of my grandmother—
TlMULTY
Your grandma's behind!
The Young Man (peering at the screen) Her singing? Just that made him forget to ran?
O'Gavin
Just! Just! It would be sacrilege to bound from a cinema after a recital such as that just heard! Might as well throw bombs at a wedding or—
TlMULTY
You could've at least warned us it was No Contest.
O'Gavin
How? It crept over me in a divine sickness. That last bit she sang. "The Lovely Isle of Innisfree," was it not, Doone?
Fogarty What else did she sing?
The Old Man (exasperated)
What else? He's just lost some of you a day's wages and you ask what else she sang!
O'Gavin
Sure, it's money that runs the world. But it is music which holds down the friction.
Phil (c voice from the back of the theatre) Hey! What's going on down there!
Timulty (aside to the Yank) It's the cinema projectionist—!
The Old Man Hello, Phil, darling! It's only the Team!
Finn
We've a bit of a problem here, Phil, in ethics, not to say esthetics.
The Old Man (smiling his grandest) Yes, now, we wonder—could you run the Anthem over?
Phil's Voice Run it over?!
There is a rumble of protests from the winners, approval from the losers.
O'Gavin A lovely idea!
Timulty It is not! Doone won fair and square!
The Old Man An Act of God incapacitated O'Gavin!
Kelly
A tenth-run flicker from the year nineteen hundred and thirty-seven caught him by the short hairs, you mean!
Fogarty
We've never run a sprint over before
O'Gavin (sweetly)
Phil, dear boy, is the last reel of the Deanna Durbin fillum still there?
Phil's Voice It ain't in the Ladies'.
O'Gavin
What a wit the boy has. Now, Phil, do you think you could just thread the singing girl back through the infernal machine there and give us the Finis again?
Phil
Is that what you all want?
There is a hard moment of indecision.
Fogarty (tempted)
Including, of course, all of the song "The Lovely Isle of Innis-free"?
Phil The whole damn island, sure!
Everybody beams. This has hit them where they live.
The Old Man Done! Places, everyone!
doone and o'gavin race to sit down.
The Young Man
Hold on! There's no audience. Without them, there're no obstacles, no real contest.
Finn (scowls, thinks) Why, let's all of us be the audience!
All (flinging themselves into seats) Grand! Fine! Wonderful!
the young man is left alone, looking at his friends.
The Young Man I beg pardon.
The Old Man (seated) Yes, lad?
The Young Man There's no one outside by the exit, to judge who wins.
Everyone is shocked to hear this. They look around.
Timulty Then, Yank, would you mind doing us the service?
the young man nods, backs off, then turns and runs back out to the exit door, onstage.
Phil's Voice Are ya clods down there ready?
The Old Man (turning) If Deanna Durbin and the Anthem is!
Phil's Voice Here goes!
The lights go out. The music surges. A voice sings. By the exit door, the young man tenses, waiting, checking his watch. He holds the door half open, listening.
The Young Man
Forty seconds . . . thirty . . . ten seconds . . . there's the Finale . . . ! They're—Off!
He flings himself back as if afraid a flood of men will mob out over him. We hear the grand Ta-Ta of cymbals, drums, brass. Then—silence.
the young man opens the door wide and peers into the dark, then stiffens to attention as
The National Anthem plays. Even shorter this time, at double-quick speed.
When it is over, the young man steps in and p
eers down at the long row where the "audience" and the two competitors are seated. They all stand and look back and up at the projection room.
Tears are streaming from their eyes. They are dabbing their cheeks.
The Old Man (calls) Phil, darling . . . ?
Finn . . . once more?
They all sit down. Only timulty remains standing, eyes wet. He gestures.
TlMULTY
And this time . . . without the Anthem? Blackout.
Music. A swift Irish reel, with blended overtones of the lilting "Innisfree," old Deanna Durbin songs, and at the very last, the Anthem, in its most truncated form.
The real audience can, if it wishes, run for the exits, now, for our Play has come to
THE END
The Queen's Own Evaders,
an Afterword by Kay Bradbury
I had never wanted to go to Ireland in my life.
Yet here was John Huston on the telephone asking me to his hotel for a drink. Later that afternoon, drinks in hand, Huston eyed me carefully and said, "How would you like to live in Ireland and write Moby Dick for the screen?"
And suddenly we were off after the White Whale; myself, the wife, and two daughters.
It took me seven months to track, catch, and throw the Whale flukes out.
From October to April I lived in a country where I did not want to be.
I thought that I saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing of Ireland. The Church was deplorable. The weather was dreadful. The poverty was inadmissible. I would have none of it. Besides, there was this Big Fish . . .
I did not count on my subconscious tripping me up. In the middle of all the threadbare dampness, while trying to beach Leviathan with my typewriter, my antennae were noticing the people. Not that my wide-awake self, conscious and afoot, did not notice them, like and admire and have some for friends, and see them often, no. But the overall thing, pervasive, was the poorness and the rain and feeling sorry for myself in a sorry land.
With the Beast rendered down into oil and delivered to the cameras, I fled Ireland, positive I had learned naught save how to dread storms, fogs, and the penny-beggar streets of Dublin and Kilcock.
But the subliminal eye is shrewd. While I lamented my hard work and my inability, every other day, to feel as much like Herman Melville as I wished, my interior self kept alert, snuffed deep, listened long, watched close, and filed Ireland and its people for other times when I might relax and let them teem forth to my own surprise.
I came home via Sicily and Italy where I had baked myself free of the Irish winter, assuring one and all, "I'll write nothing ever about the Connemora Lightfoots and the Donnybrook Gazelles."
Bradbury, Ray - SSC 10 Page 8
