The Kentucky Cycle
Page 1
The
Kentucky
Cycle
The
Kentucky
Cycle
Robert Schenkkan
Grove Press
New York
Copyright © 1993 by Robert Schenkkan
Cover artwork by Cathie Bleck
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CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that The Kentucky Cycle is subject to a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), the Berne Convention, the Pan-American Copyright Convention and the Universal Copyright Convention as well as all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including professional/amateur stage rights, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound recording, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such as CD-ROM, CD-I, information storage and retrieval systems and photocopying, and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved. Particular emphasis is laid upon the matter of readings, permission for which must be secured from the Author›s agent in writing.
Stock and amateur applications for permission to perform The Kentucky Cycle 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 (11 Madison Avenue, 18th Floor. New York, New York 10010, telephone: 212-586-5100) and by paying the requisite fee.
Published simultaneously in Canada
Printed in the United States of America
First published by Plume, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc., November 1993.
First published by Grove Atlantic, June 2016.
ISBN 978-0-8021-2527-9
eISBN 978-0-8021-8989-9
Grove Press
an imprint of Grove Atlantic
154 West 14th Street
New York, NY 10011
Distributed by Publishers Group West
groveatlantic.com
For Mary Anne
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author wishes to acknowledge the assistance and contributions of the following individuals and institutions to the development of The Kentucky Cycle: Dr. Greg Culley, Harry Caudill, Scott Reiniger, Jessica Teich, New Dramatists, the Ensemble Studio Theatre, the Mark Taper Forum, the Long Wharf Theatre, David Kranes and the Sundance Playwrights Institute, TheatreWorks, Liz Huddle and the Intiman Theatre, the Fund for New American Plays, the Arthur Foundation, the Vogelstein Foundation, Conal O’Brien, Russell Vandenbrouke, Michael Keys Hall, and Ernie Sabella.
A special thanks to both the Seattle and the Los Angeles acting companies, some of whom have been associated with the play throughout its many years of development.
Finally, the author is especially grateful to Tom Bryant, dramaturg extraordinare, for his good advice and good cheer; and to the director, Warner Shook, for his unflagging hard work and his brilliant staging, much of which has now been incorporated into this text.
The World Premier of THE KENTUCKY CYCLE
was produced by Intiman Theatre Company
Seattle, Washington
Elizabeth Huddle, Artistic Director
and subsequently co-produced in Los Angeles by
Centre Theatre Group/Mark Taper Forum
Gordon Davidson, Artistic Director/Producer
THE KENTUCKY CYCLE was originally developed in
the Taper Lab New Work Festival
Center Theatre Group/Mark Taper Forum
The Play was further developed at
The Sundance Institute
The Intiman Theatre Company’s production of this play was awarded a major grant from The Fund for New American Plays, a project of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts with support from American Express in cooperation with the President’s Committee on the Arts and the Humanities.
PREFACE
The Kentucky Cycle is a series of nine short plays that chronicles the history of three fictional families over two hundred years in the Appalachian portion of eastern Kentucky. It is intended to be performed by an ensemble of twelve principal actors and actresses with an additional chorus of seven on a variable-unit stage. The play is in two parts and may be performed on consecutive evenings or in single, all-day marathon performances with a dinner break between Parts One and Two. There is a fifteen-minute intermission within each part.
While there are a number of ways to solve the design challenges of The Kentucky Cycle, the author feels that the original design concept created in Seattle is the most elegant solution. This concept, arrived at over a period of several months of intense collaboration among the author, the director, Warner Shook, and the set and lighting designers, Michael Olich and Peter Maradudin, was also used, with modifications, in Los Angeles.
The stage is a large, oval wooden platform raked from upstage to downstage. In the center of the oval is a large, rectangular pit full of an earthlike substance. Surrounding the stage is tubular construction scaffolding holding a wooden floor, which creates an open gallery. Directly upstage is a “sky cyc” created by stretching a square of unbleached muslin on a frame. This cyc remains in place until the end of Play 6, at which point it is lowered in front of the audience to reveal a cratered and burnt wooden back, which now functions as a ramp up to the second level of the gallery. Finally, underneath the gallery on either side of the stage are wooden benches on which the actors who are not immediately involved in the action will sit. These benches are in plain view of the audience, and the actors resting there will function as a kind of “witness” to the action onstage.
As the action progresses through Part One, at the end of each play several wooden “plugs” will be carried out and inserted into the earthen pit, covering the soil. With Randall’s burial, the earth disappears from view, not to be seen again until the violated graves are revealed in Play 9. As these “plugs” are carried on, a skeletal version of the Rowen homestead will be gradually constructed from simple elements: a rolling wagon, several “log” pillars, and pieces of a “roof,” which are flown in. The entire construction disappears in Play 5 when Jed leaves for the Civil War. Props are historically accurate but minimal. Costumes consist of a basic outfit to which various pieces are added or deleted. This changes significantly only in the move from Play 7 to Play 8.
The key design idea here is twofold.
One: Everything is visible to the audience. With the possible exception of the end of Part One and the end of Part Two, all the mechanics of the st
age are in plain view. This is theater that does not pretend to be anything else.
Two: Nothing must hinder the smooth, forward movement of the action or detract from the story being told. The most important thing here, always, is the actor standing in the light speaking the words.
Cherokee translations are by Wes Studi, Levi Carey, and Virginia Carey.
PART
ONE
Ill fares the land, to hastening ills at prey,
When wealth accumulates, and men decay.
—OLIVER GOLDSMITH
MASTERS OF THE TRADE 1775
THE COURTSHIP OF MORNING STAR 1776
THE HOMECOMING 1792
—INTERMISSION—
TIES THAT BIND 1819
GOD’S GREAT SUPPER 1861
PROLOGUE
(When the audience enters the theater, the house lights are on, exposing the entire stage and its mechanics. When the “curtain” rises, the house lights go out and the actors enter the stage from all four directions. The principal actors surround the earthen pit, facing one another, while the chorus remains stage left and stage right in the waiting areas. The principal actors turn as one and face the audience. A spot singles out one actor/actress, the NARRATOR.*)
NARRATOR: The Kentucky Cycle.
(Once again, the principal actors turn inward to face one another. A single actor [EARL TOD] steps into the dirt pit. As he does so, the work lights shift into stage light and the music begins. Chorus members ritually outfit this actor with a hat and a Kentucky long rifle. A large leather pack is set down beside him. Three wooden “fire” logs are carried on and placed together. As Earl Tod sits down by the “fire,” the Narrator again turns to face the audience.)
NARRATOR: Masters of the Trade.
The year is 1775. A small clearing in a thick forest somewhere in eastern Kentucky. A creek flows nearby. “It was here on the frontier of the middle and upper South that the Indian Wars rose to their fiercest and cruelest pitch. Here the savage was taught his lessons in perfidy by masters of the trade.”
Masters of the Trade.
All the actors leave the stage to sit in the waiting areas offstage left and right, where they will remain in full view of the audience.
The lights shift, and we are in the forest.
The play begins.
* The role of the Narrator should shift among the ensemble so that a different actor or actress assumes the part every time the Narrator appears.
MASTERS
OF THE
TRADE
It was here on the frontier of the middle and upper South that the Indian Wars rose to their fiercest and cruelest pitch. Here the savage was taught his lessons in perfidy by masters of the trade.
—H. CAUDILL
CHARACTERS
EARL TOD a Scottish trapper
MICHAEL ROWEN age thirty-four, an Irish indentured servant
SAM (YOUNG MAN) a Virginia farmer
TASKWAN a Cherokee
DRAGGING CANOE a Cherokee
CHEROKEE WARRIORS (nonspeaking roles)
1775. Early morning, an hour before daybreak. Somewhere in eastern Kentucky. A small clearing in a thick forest. A creek flows nearby.
EARL TOD sits hunched over in front of a dying fire. He dozes, wrapped in a filthy blanket and cradling a rifle. Forest sounds fade in. Beat. A wolf howls in the distance. Beat.
Suddenly, Tod’s head snaps upright. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he moves his hands down the stock, locating the trigger. He calls out a greeting in Cherokee:)
TOD: O si yo! (There is no answer. He swings the gun up. There is an unmistakable Scottish brogue in his voice as he calls out:) You can step out into the light now wi’ your hands up and tell me your name, or I’ll put a bullet into ya from here and you can die unburied and nameless. It’s all the same to me.
Beat. Out of the dark, a large, squarely built white man in tattered buckskins limps cautiously forward, his hands up. He speaks with a heavy Irish accent.
MICHAEL: The name is Rowen. Michael Rowen. And I have to be tellin’ ya, sure but your hospitality is nothin’ much to brag about.
TOD: What do ye want?
MICHAEL: A place by the fire. Somethin’ to break me fast. I haven’t eaten for two, mebbe three days now.
TOD: What happened?
MICHAEL: Well, after all that terrible trouble at Zion, I said to meself, “Michael, me boy, it’s time you were movin’ on.” And so I packed up me things and headed into the mountains—“whence cometh my strength.” (Beat.) Psalm 121? “I lift up mine eyes unto these hills, whence cometh my strength.” Are you familiar with the Scriptures, sir?
Tod remains silent, his gun pointed at Michael.
TOD: I know “An eye for an eye.”
MICHAEL: Ahh, an Old Testament man, are ya? A fellow after me own heart. The New Testament, it’s . . . it’s a little watery, now isn’t it?
TOD: You didn’t finish your story. What happened to you?
MICHAEL: Couple o’ days ago, I ran into a catamount. Scared me horse so, he bolted off into a ravine carryin’ everythin’ I owned, includin’ me rifle.
TOD: Bad luck.
MICHAEL: The devil’s own! ’Course, I can’t say I blame me horse, poor creature. When I seen that cat, I was off and runnin’ meself, with about as much direction. I took a fall, knocked meself silly, ass over teacup, and turned this ankle in the bargain! Been wanderin’ ever since. Real glad to see your fire.
TOD: Then why didn’t ye just step up, ’stead of sneakin’ in?
MICHAEL: Well, after Zion, I wasn’t sure but ye might be Indians. (Beat.) Listen, Mr. . . . uh . . . ?
No response.
It’s been very nice to chat with ya, but do ya suppose I could finish this conversation with me arms down and me belly full?
TOD: Warm yourself.
Michael drops his hands and limps to the fire. Tod turns quickly and strikes Michael a blow with the stock of his gun. Michael drops. Tod stands over him and searches his body for weapons. He finds a small knife in one boot and drops it in disgust. Michael moans. Tod crosses over to the other side of the fire. He tosses a canteen and a small leather pouch into the dirt in front of Michael.
MICHAEL (gasping, as he catches his breath): Son of a bitch!
TOD: There’s water, and pemmican in the bag.
MICHAEL: Son of a bitch.
TOD: Can’t take no chances. Not with Cherokee and Shawnee runnin’ about. Renegades runnin’ wi’ ’em.
Michael struggles to sit up.
MICHAEL: You seen Indians?
TOD: Party o’ bucks all painted up. Headin’ northwest seven days ago.
MICHAEL (swallowing some water and digging into the pemmican): Shawnee?
TOD: Cherokee.
MICHAEL: Probably part of the same group what attacked Zion.
TOD: What happened to Zion?
MICHAEL: Ya don’t know? Terrible thing. Tragic.
TOD: You’re the first man I’ve run into since I left Boonesboro two months ago.
MICHAEL: White man.
TOD: What?
MICHAEL: First white man you’ve seen. You saw those Cherokee bucks a week ago. (Beat.) What’re ya doin’ out here? You a trapper?
TOD: You didn’t answer my question.
MICHAEL: Oh, Zion. Terrible. About a hundred Cherokee savages attacked the settlement a week ago. Wiped it out. Man, woman, and child.
TOD (pointedly): ’Cept you.
MICHAEL: I wasn’t there. On me way back from Boonesboro, me horse threw a shoe, bless his soul, slowed me down and saved me life. I was in time to watch the massacre. Not take part.
TOD: You’re a very lucky man.
MICHAEL: With a very unlucky wife. And two children even more unlucky.
Beat.
&
nbsp; TOD: That’s hard.
MICHAEL (shrugs): May their souls rest comfortably in the arms of the Lord.
TOD: Amen.
MICHAEL: I’ve no way to repay your hospitality but this. . . .
He reaches into his back pocket. Tod starts and lowers his gun, cocked. Michael freezes.
I’ve nothin’ more dangerous in me back pocket than a small flask of poteen. With your permission?
Tod nods. Michael pulls the flask out.
You’re a nervous man, Mr. . . . ?
TOD (ignoring the implied question): These are nervous times.
MICHAEL: That they be. When no man dare be sure of his neighbor and a white man’d ride with the murderin’ red savages ’gainst his own kind. Nervous times. (Beat.) I’d toast the health of my host and savior, if I knew his name.
Beat.
TOD: Tod. Earl Tod.
MICHAEL: Mr. Tod, sir, your health. Like the Good Samaritan, ya have restored life to this poor wayfarer.
He drinks, then hands the flask to Tod.
TOD: Ye saw renegades at Zion?
MICHAEL: Well, I wasn’t close enough to be sure, ya understand, but . . . uh, when did ya ever hear of Indians carryin’ rifles?
TOD: Christ!
MICHAEL: I counted near a dozen rifles. Mebbe more. (Beat.) They looked new.
Tod drinks.
Ah well, way of the world, eh, Mr. Tod? I mean, we been sellin’ ’em everythin’ else. It was bound to happen sooner or later. And one man’s profit . . . is just another man’s dead wife.
Tod throws the flask back to Michael.
TOD: When there’s light enough, I’ll show ye where ye are. Give ye some water and jerky. Even with your ankle bad, should make Boonesboro in a week. Little less.
MICHAEL: You in trade, Mr. Tod?
TOD: What I do is none of your damn business.
Beat.
MICHAEL: I meant no offense, to be sure, Mr. Tod. It’s just that I find meself in your debt, sir, and I always pay me debts. I’ve friends in Boonesboro might be useful to a man like yourself, if he’s in trade.