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Journal of American Drama and Theatre welcomes submissions. Aim is to promote research on American playwrights, plays, and theatre. Manuscripts should be prepared in conformity with the Chicago Manual of Style.
Journal of American Drama and Theatre welcomes submissions. Aim is to promote research on American playwrights, plays, and theatre. Manuscripts should be prepared in conformity with the Chicago Manual of Style.
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Journal of American Drama and Theatre welcomes submissions. Aim is to promote research on American playwrights, plays, and theatre. Manuscripts should be prepared in conformity with the Chicago Manual of Style.
Copyright:
Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
Formati disponibili
Scarica in formato PDF, TXT o leggi online su Scribd
Volume 9, Number 3 Editor: Vera Mowry Roberts Co-Editor: jane Bowers Managing Editor: Marla Carlson Editorial Assistants: Marion Wilson Lars Myers Editorial Coordinator: Susan Tenneriello Circulation Manager: Susan Tenneriello Edwin Wilson, Director Fall 1997 CENTER FOR ADVANCED STUDY IN THEATRE ARTS THE GRADUATE SCHOOL AND UNIVERSITY CENTER OF THE CITY UNIVERSITY OF NEW YORK Editorial Board Stephen Archer Ruby Cohn Bruce A. McConachie Margaret Wilkerson Don B. Wilmeth Geraldine Maschio The journal of American Drama and Theatre welcomes submissions. Our aim is to promote research on American playwrights, plays, and theatre, and to encourage a more enlightened understanding of our I iterary and theatrical heritage. Manuscripts should be prepared in conformity with The Chicago Manual of Style, 14th ed., using footnotes (rather than endnotes). Hard copies should be submitted in duplicate. Whenever possible, we request that articles be submitted on disk as well (preferably 3.5" floppy, but 5.25" also accepted). We prefer the articles to be in WordPerfect for Windows format (version 6.1 ), but most word processor formats (Mac and PC) are accepted. Windows 95 formats are not accepted at this time. Submissions will not be returned unless accompanied by a stamped, self-addressed envelope. Please allow three to four months for a decision. Our distinguished Editorial Board wrll constitute the jury of selection. Address editorial inquiries and manu- script submissions to the Editors, }ADT, Ph.D. Program in Theatre, CUNY Graduate Center, 33 West 42nd Street, New York, NY 10036-8099. E-mail address: jadtjour@email.gc.cuny.edu CASTA Publications are supported by generous grants from the Lucille Lortel Chai r in Theatre and the Sidney E. Cohn Chair in Theatre Studies in the Ph.D. Program in Theatre at the City University of New York. CAST A Copyright 1997 The journal of American Drama and Theatre (ISSN 1 044-937X) is a member of CELJ and is published three times a year, in the Winter, Spring, and Fall. Subscriptions are $12.00 for each calendar year. Foreign subscriptions require an additional $6.00 for postage. Inquire of CASTA, CUNY Graduate School, 33 West 42 Street, New York, New York 10036-8099. THE jOURNAL OF AMERICAN DRAMA AND THEATRE Volume 9, Number 3 Fall 1997 Contents DIANE ALMEIDA, Four Saints in Our Town: A Comparative Analysis of Works by Gertrude Stein and Thornton Wilder 1 AMELIA HOWE KRITZER, Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women, 1815-1833 24 CHERYL BLACK, Pioneering Theatre Managers: Edna Kenton and Eleanor Fitzgerald of the Provincetown Players 40 jAMES R.STACY, Making the Grave Less Deep: A Descriptive Assessment of Sam Shepard's Revisions to Buried Child 59 RICHARD DELLAMORA, Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 73 BOOK NOTES 102 CONTRIBUTORS 104 Journal of American Drama and Theatre 9 (Fall 199 7) Four Saints in Our Town: A Comparative Analysis of Works by Gertrude Stein and Thornton Wilder DIANE ALMEIDA Four Saints in Three Acts premiered in Hartford, Connecticut on February 9, 1934; 1 the libretto for this opera was the fi rst of the dramatic works of Gertrude Stein to reach the stage. An innovative production in many ways/ it had, according to Variety, received more press coverage than any other opening of the season. By all accounts it was a spectacu- lar success. Four years later, Our Town, the second of Thornton Wilder's plays to receive a professional production, had its world premiere in Princeton, New Jersey on January 22, 1938. 3 With innovations of its own, this play was also a success and won for Wilder the second of his three Pulitzer Prizes. In the years between these two productions Gertrude Stein and Thornton Wilder met for the first time in Chicago in November of 1934, 4 a week or so after the four-performance run of Four Saints at Chicago's Sullivan Opera House. Stein, having gained a popular notoriety the previous year as the eccentric author of The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, was on a lecture tour of the United States. Wilder was himself by this time a distinguished American writer. The second of his several novels, The Bridge of San Luis Rey, had won for him his first Pulitzer prize in 1928. His dramatic work at that time included the 1931 1 Score by Virgi I Thomson, conducted by Alexander Small ins, scenario by Maurice Grosser, directed by John Houseman, lighting by Abe Feder, choreography by Frederi ck Ashton, scenic design by Florine Stettheimer. 2 With its all-Negro cast, most of them inexperienced i n operat ic performance, Four Saints in Three Acts was the first professionally produced American play to use black actors in roles that were not specifically written for them. 3 Produced and directed by Jed Harris, technical director Raymond Sovey, costumes by Madame Helene Pons. The Stage Manager was played by frank Craven. 4 Donald Haberman dates this f irst meeting in the winter of 1935. See " The Original Four Saints in Three ~ c t s , The Drama Review 26 (1982): 101-30. 2 DIANE ALMEIDA publication of a collection of shorter works under the title of The Long Christmas Dinner and Other Plays in One Act. The two authors quickly developed a mutual affection and admiration. It was the beginning of a friendship that would last until Stein's death in 1946. Wilder quickly become one of the great champions of the work of Gertrude Stein. In 1935, he wrote the introduction for the publication of Stein's four Chicago lectures, Narration. He would do the same for The Geographical History of America in 1936, and also for her Four in America, published posthumously in 1947. Gertrude Stein thought fondly enough of Wilder to include a rather poignant portrait of him in The Geographical History of America: A portrait celebrated as the portrait of Thornton Wilder. I wish I knew a history was a history. And tears. I wish I knew a history as a history which is not which is not there are not fears. He has no fears. At worst he has no tears. For them very likely he is made of them. It is too bad that fears rhymes with tears. Very I ikely for them. But which I beseech you to say. 5 Her continued affection for Wilder as well as her encouragement and support of his work is evidenced by a number of his journal entries, many of which were made long after her death: 5 Gertrude Stein, The Geographical History of America (New York: Random House, 1973), 72-3. Four Saints in Our Town 3 [September 12, 1955] Oh, it's to Gertrude that I owe this invulnerability to the evalua- tion of others! Nay, I have it so deeply implanted that I can hold in my head at one time both my confidence in what is meritori- ous in my work and my real self-reproach at what is bad. 6 Their friendship was an unlikely one. Stein was one of the few close friends that Wilder had in his life; to her, he was but one friend of very many. Although he was a world traveler, he was quite a private man and appears to have lived the fairly conservative life-style of a college professor; her eccentric life-style with Alice B. Toklas at 27, rue de Fleurs is legendary, perhaps more publicized than her writings. It was in Wilder's nature to accommodate; it was in Stein's nature to dominate. But, as with their works, their temperaments which seem so different on the surface, were much more similar than one would suppose. Over the years, Stein came to use Wilder as a sounding-board for her ideas on art and philosophy, which they would mull over during their long walks in Paris or near her summer home in Bilignin. She became somewhat of a mentor to Wilder, a role she seems to have been reluctant to cultivate. In Everybody's Autobiography she. worries about Wilder's inclination to be led: I have made [Thornton] literary executor will he get weak and let any one he admires and believes in some, he does in me but that is not the same thing of course not, well anyway here and now it is said that he is not to let his left hand know what his right hand is doing and his left hand does lead him were he is led. I am not leading him I am confiding in him ... 7 Yet he was, in a way, following her lead. He always acknowledged the enormous influence she had on his work: "She was the great influence on my life ... It was from her that I learned to write dryly and objec- tively."8 6 Thornton Wilder, The Journals of Thornton Wilder 1939-1961 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985), 239. 7 Gertrude Stein, Everybody's Autobiography (New York: Cooper Square Pub I ishers, 1971), 301. 8 Janet Hobhouse, Everybody Who Was Anybody: A Biography of Gertrude Stein (New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1975), 185. 4 DIANE ALMEIDA By the time Stein returned to Paris in 1935, Wilder had had ample opportunity to become directly and thoroughly acquainted with many of her ideas; it was during their initial acquaintance in Chkago that habit of long talks and long walks began. Stein's. 1'934:-35 lectur.es in "'What is English, Li.ter,atture,.'' "The, Making of. The of AmeriCans," "Portraits atmd. Repetih0'fnl,"' "Poetry and Grammar," and "Pictures." Her lectures tt.a Wliild:eJils. students at the University of Chicago covered essentially the same ground. Of immense interest to Wilder were the concepts she meditated upon the following year in The Geographical History of America. Upon reading a manuscript copy, he wrote to her: What a book! I mean what a book! I've been living for a month with ever-increasing intensity on the conce.ptiolil:s. of Human Nature and the Human Mlnd,.. and Ol!ll the of Mas. ter-pteces to their apparent Those thrngs, yes and identity, and have become cetf and marrow in me and now at last f have more about them. And it's all absorbing and fascinat- ing and intoxicatingly gay, even when it' s terribly in earnest. 9 It seems likely, then, that while Wilder was composing Our Town Stein's concepts were very much on his mind. Gertrude Stein's notions of an absolute present, of the relations of Human Nature to Human Mind, and of the play as landscape helped to shape her I ibretto for Four Saints in Three Acts. Similar concepts are identifiable in Our Town. The conceptual similarities of these two plays are the focus of this essay. First I will review Stein's concept of an absolute present, of Human Nature and Human Mind, and of the play as landscape, and demonstrate the techniques through which these concepts are realized in Four Saints. Then I will discuss Wilder's versions of these concepts and describe the techniques through which they are rendered in Our Town. An Absolute Present Gertrude Stein studied psychology with William james at Harvard in the 1890s, and although she did not pursue her studies in that field, she was from that time on increasingly fascinated by the workings of the human mind. This interest is evident in "Melanctha," one of Stein's earliest stories. The repetition of words and phrases and slow forward 9 James R. Mellow, Charmed Circle: Gertrude Stein & Company (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1974), 419. Four Saints in Our Town 5 motion of the story line are the beginnings of her experimentation with the perception of time in her fiction. Stein felt that in this work she was " groping for using everything and there was a groping for a continuous present and there was an inevitable beginning of beginning again and again and again." 10 This groping led to her "enormously long" book, The Making of the Making of Americans and to her "enormously short" portraits. Her portrait "Miss Furr and Miss Skeene" provides a good example of Stein's making of a "continuous present and an including everything and a beginning again and again in a very small thing." 11 After having "traveled to another place" we are told that Miss Furr and Miss Skeene stayed there and were gay there, not very gay there, just gay there. They were both gay there, they were regularly working there both of them cultivating their voices there, they were both gay there. Georgine Skeene was gay there and she was regular, regular in being gay, regular in not being gay, regular in being a gay one who was one being quite a gay one. They were both gay then there and both working there then. 12 Robert Bart lett Haas links the technique of presenting this series of repetitive but slightly variant statements to the cinema: Each statement is uniquely felt, uniquely formed in the present, and is succeeded by another, slightly different, like the succes- sive frames of a film that build an image which seems to prolong itself in the present for a given period of time. 13 Because plays, like films, always happen when they are happening, the logical development of this technique was to replace narration with dramatization. This, along with a desire to express the essence of an event without telling a story, led to Stein's writing plays. 10 Gertrude Stein, Writings and Lectures 1911-1945 (london: Peter Owen, 1967), 25. 11 /bid., 26. 12 Gertrude Stein, Geography and Plays (Boston: Four Seas Company, 1922), 17. 13 Robert Bartlett Haas, A Primer for the Gradual Understanding of Gertrude Stein (los Angeles: Black Sparrow Press, 1971), 49. 6 DIANE ALMEIDA Without any orientation whatsoever 1n time and space, What Happened, A Play in Five Acts, opens: (One.) Loud and no cataract. Not any nuisance is depressing. 14 The essence of What Happened is presented as a succession of sensations or perceptions as they occur in the immediate present. As in pictorial cubism this technique is not entirely abstract: There is always some reference to what is being represented. We know from The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas that this play was written to capture the essence of a dinner party. Without telling a story or setting the stage or introducing characters, Stein's choice of words, images, and language patterns does indeed evoke images of a dinner party, a birthday party it seems, complete with the cutting of a cake in Act Three: A cut, a cut is not a slice, what is the occasion for representing a cut and a slice. What is the occasion for all that. 15 A birthday speech and a wry joke occur in Act Four: A birthday, what is a birthday, a birthday is a speech, 1t 1s a second time when there is tobacco, it is only one time when there is poison. It is more than one time when the occasion which shows an occasional sharp separation is unanimous. 16 Best wishes are wished for the birthday person and "many many more, and many more many more many many more." 17 This five-act play takes up less than five pages in Geography and Plays. The language is agrammatical in structure and words have been deliberately divorced from their usual associations. There are no distinctions made between dialogue and stage direction, no indication of time and place, yet this piece does evoke a pleasant evening spent among 14 Stein, Geography and Plays, 205. 15 /bid., 207. 16 /bid., 208. 17 /bid., 209. Four Saints in Our Town 7 friends. Stein has managed to do this without providing spatial orienta- tion and without any reference to past or future events. Present time in the play is bound to composition. Four Saints in Three Acts represents a further step in Stein's evolution of an absolute present. We know that What Happened was created after an event that had occurred in reality. Four Saints, on the other hand, was written after Stein and Virgil Thomson had agreed to collaborate on the opera, but without their have settled upon much more than that the two main characters would be Saint Therese and Saint Ignatius Loyola. And so without any idea as to "what happened," Stein sat down to "begin beginning" the play. Her "progress reports" to Thomson give us valuable insight into Stein's creative process: I think I have got St. Therese onto the stage, it has been an awful struggle and I think I can keep her on and gradually by the second act get St. Ignatius on and then they will be both together but not at once in the third act. 18 Jane Bowers suggests that this process of creation is written into the text of Four Saints, and that having done this, "Stein makes herself and her creative process manifest during the performance by giving herself most of the lines." 19 Thus many of Stein's lines might be read as comments by the author. As Bowers describes them, they consist of "self-criticism, self-encouragement, progress reports, plans and prepara- tions for writing, and discussions of the ease or difficulty of writing. " 20 Bowers suggests we think of the opening lines as a rendition of Stein' s thought processes as she sits down to "begin beginning" the play: To know to know to love her so. Four saints prepare for four saints. It makes it well fish. Four saints it makes it well fish. 18 Mellow, Charmed Circle, 303. 19 Jane Bowers, "The Writer in the Theater: Gertrude Stein's Four Saints in Three Acts," in Critical Essays on Gertrude Stein, Michael J. Hoffman (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1974), 215. 20 /bid., 215. 8 DIANE ALMEIDA Four Saints prepare for four saints it makes it well well fish it makes it well fish prepare for saints. In narrative prepare for saints. 21 This incantation might be read as Stein's initial frustration with some difficulty in conjuring up the images necessary to commence the play. As Bowers points out, there are other points in the script which indicate that the struggle is ongoing. If we listen to the text with this in mind, we will hear Gertrude Stein conjure up her characters and images and urge them to participate in the creation of the play. "Four Saints is a represen- tation of the mind of Gertrude Stein, and Gertrude Stein sees to it that that representation is brought into the theatre." 22 If these editorial lines were to be rendered visually and audibly and integrated into a unified production, the result could be a representation of the creative processes of Stein's mind being directly present to and immediately processed by an audience: as if it were all being created simultaneously by the minds of everyone in the auditorium. If the technique worked in practice as well as in theory, the performance could conceivably become a communal experience of the inner creative processes of one particular mind. This binding of the time of perfor- mance to the process of composition, then, creates an absolute present regardless of when and where the play is performed. Human Nature and Human Mind In Gertrude Stein's vocabulary Human Nature is the equivalent of identity, Human Mind the equivalent of entity. Identity is the image we hold of ourselves as we go about our business in the world, or remember ourselves as we once were, or think of what we might become. But this is not a process of the Human Mind. The human mind fails to become a human mind when it thinks because it cannot think that what is the use of being a little boy if you are going to grow up to be a man. 23 21 Gertrude Stein, Last Operas and Plays (New York: Rinehart & Co., 1949), 440. 22 Bowers, "The Writer in the Theater," 222. 23 Stein, The Geographical History, 59. Four Saints in Our Town 9 A man thinking of his boyhood is thinking in the past tense; a boy looking forward to manhood thinks in the future tense. Memory and recognition of identity are functions of Human Nature, not of the Human Mind. Human Mind exists as pure entity: it is that which observes a phenomenon as it occurs in the absolute present. Every past moment is memory. Thornton Wilder commented: Since the Human Mind, existing, does not feel its past as relevant, why does succession in identity have any importance? What is the purpose of living in time? One cannot realize what one was four seconds ago, four months ago, twenty years ago. 24 Memory depends on identity, which is not a construct of the Human Mind, and in this sense the Human Mind "cannot think that what is the use of being a little boy if you are going to grow up to be a man," because if the thought occurs at all, it is a product of Human Nature which doesn't mean that the little boy that Human Nature remembers is somebody else. William H. Gass explains that [Stein] did not mean to say that when we look at our own l ife, we are looking at the history of another; we are like a little dog licking our own hand, because our sense of ourselves at any time does not depend upon such data, only our "idea" of ourselves does, and this "idea," whether it's our own or that of another, is our identity. Identities depend upon appearance and papers. Appearances can be imitated, papers forged. 25 Human Nature is bound to ideas, value judgments and all manner of subjective thought; because of this, Human Nature's experience of reality is distorted. If "I am I because my little dog knows me," my being depends upon the dog's recognition of my identity. Who am I then, when my little dog is no longer there? Identity is related to Human Nature. It is subject to a reality primarily defined in terms of what it has already experienced. It goes about the world viewing everything through the veil of its own subjective point of view. Its very existence depends upon memory or acknowledgement of one's self by another. It plans for the future, learns from the past and manipulates the present. The manner in which most of us live in the 24 Thornton Wilder, Introduction to Stein, The Geographical History, 46. 25 William H. Gass, New Introduction to Stein, The Geographical History, 37. 10 DIANE ALMEIDA world for nearly every moment of our lives in an expression of identity. Identity, unable to conceive of a non-self situation, can never really grasp its own mortality. Entity is related to the Human Mind. It is not subject to the reality of past experience; it exists only in the absolute present, and is not concerned with past and future. It maintains a completely objective view of the world; it is independent of subjective judgment. Entity does not rely either upon memory or the recognition of another to exist; it exists without reliance upon anything external to itself. Entity experiences immediate sensations. Entity intuits its own mortality. Entity creates. Although Gertrude Stein did not really crystallize these ideas until 1936, there is clearly an entity at work in Four Saints as the voice of the creator engaged in the act of creating. The first several pages of Four Saints appear to be an expression of the creator's difficulty in bringing her creation to life. The following scene occurs after the struggle has been going on for some time. It is found under the heading, "Repeat First Act": Saint Therese very nearly half inside half outside outside the house and not surrounded. How do you do. Very well I thank you. And when do you go. I am staying on quite continuously. When is it planned. Not more than so often. The garden inside and outside the wall . Saint Therese about to be. The garden inside and outside outside and inside of the wall. Nobody visits more than they do visits them. Saint Therese. Nobody visits more than they do visits them. Saint Therese. 26 The scene is a rendering of the creative process, and describes the very moment during which the entity/creator finally gives birth to the identity/created, Saint Therese. She has very nearly arrived in this world at the first I i ne: 26 Stein, Last Operas, 446. Four Saints in Our Town 11 Saint Therese very nearly half inside and half outside outside the house and not surroundedY The following lines might be said to represent this half-real ized state in the form of an internal dialogue carried on between Saint Therese and her creator: How do you do. Very well I thank you. And when do you go. I am staying on quite continuously. When is it planned. Not more than so often. 28 Two I ines later it is announced that her birth is imminent: Saint Therese about to be. 29 And after having fully arrived, Saint Therese speaks the first speech in the play that is independent of the thoughts of the creator, which quite appropriately echoes words which her creator has just finished thinking: Saint Therese. Nobody visits more than they do visits them. 30 The creator, encouraging Saint Therese to continue being and to continue speaking, says: As loud as that as allowed as that.Jl And Saint Therese complies by reiterating her first phrase: Nobody visits more than they do visits them. 32 27 /bid. 28 /bid. 29 /bid. 30 /bid. 31 /bid. 32 /bid. 12 DIANE ALMEIDA She adds a curious line in words we have not heard before, words which must then be original to her, and which are particularly interesting considering the process which she has just gone through: Who settles a private life. 33 And then, perhaps because she has been "as allowed as that" to be "As loud as that," she repeats her first line four times: Saint Therese. Who settles a private li fe. Saint Therese. Who settles a private life. Saint Therese. Who settles a private life. Saint Therese. Who settles a private life. 34 The function of entity in the play gives it a dimension that is not found in traditional plays. A traditional play often employs the familiar device of the "play within the play." Four Saints in Three Acts creates a " play without the play," an effect which has been achieved through the creation of Human Mind. The Play as Landscape Recalling her experience with the theatre as a child in California, Gertrude Stein remembered certain specific bits of the production she had seen, such as the escape across the ice in Uncle Tom's Cabin , the Indian attack in Buffalo Bill, and the swan changed into a boy in Lohengrin. She particularly remembered watching Hamlet lying at Gertrude's feet during the dumb show more than she remembered the dumb show itself. This was the first time she remembered having had the feeling of two things going on at one time in the theatre. 35 As she grew older she realized that she had a great deal of trouble having her own emotions accompany the emotions of the scene she was viewing. She attributed this to the number of different sensations being felt and heard at the same time, things "over which one stumbled to such an extent that the time of one's emotion in relation to the scene was 33 /bid. 34 /bid. 35 Stei n, Writings and Lectures, 70. Four Saints in Our Town 13 always interrupted." 36 These stumbling blocks were i n the way of her feeling familiar with a play. The effect of this was that the alternate reality of the stage was never quite in tune with the reality of the audience. This, Stein says, made her feel nervous and she stayed away from the theatre for years. Stein continued writing portraits and poems and began to write her early plays. Along with the problem of the expression of time itself, she also addressed the problem of several different personal ities occupyi ng the same space at the same time. Stein: came to think that since each one is that one and that there are a number of them each one being that one, the only way to express this thing each one being that one and there being a number of them knowing each other was in a play. And so I began to write these plays. And the idea in What Happened, A Play, was to express this without telling what happened, in short to make a play the essence of what happened. I tried to do this with the first series of plays that I wrote. 37 After writing several plays in the same vein, Stein felt that she had taken the form as far as she could at that time, and returned to writing poetry and portraits exclusively. Then one summer in Bilignin, unable to write about a landscape to her satisfaction, she wrote a play instead. This was the origin of her idea of the play as landscape. And she felt that the play in this form would help solve the problem of the syncopation of emotion between the spectator and the play: I felt that if a play was exactly like a landscape there then would be no difficulty about the emotion of the person looking on at the play being behind or ahead of the play because the land- scape does not have to make acquaintance. You may have to make acquaintance with it, but it does not with you, it is there and so the play being written the relations between you at any time is so exactly that that it is of no importance unless you look at it. Well I did look at it and the result is in all the plays that I printed as Operas and Plays. 38 36 /bid. , 71 . 37 /bid., 74. 38 /bid., 75. 14 DIANE ALMEIDA If there is no plot, no intrigue, no evolution of character, there is no sequential intellectual or emotional development; the spectator need only concern himself with what is being presented at the time it is being presented; and therefore he need not acquire an "acquaintance" with the play. Towards this end, one aim in writing a landscape play is to express the essence of the play solely in terms of the relations among the various elements within the play as they exist as objects in their own physical and spatial reality. It is perhaps useful to think of these plays in terms of the cubist painters, many of whom Stein knew intimately. George Heard Hamilton describes Fernand Leger's cubist cityscape, The City, of 1919: It is executed in the Synthetic Cubist technique of overlapping, strongly colored planes, although Leger's are always opaque and so can collide and intersect but not interpenetrate, and their movement defines no static still-life situation but communicates the restless pace of city life. The passage of fragments of objects, of a signboard or building, one behind another, suggests the instability of urban movement, as if the spectator himself were moving past and through the picture in a motor-car. 39 It is a similar sense of movement among objects that are ultimately static that Stein was attempting to achieve. As Stein's concept of an absolute present was designed to create a play existing within its own, self-contained time, the concept of the landscape play is to create the sense of movement within a self-contained space. The landscape play " does not move away from the spectator, but moves within itself at a distance from his gaze." 40 In her lectures, Stein relates what she thought she had accomplished in Four Saints in Three Acts: Anyway I did write Four Saints an Opera to be Sung and I think it did almost what I wanted, it made a landscape and the movement in it was like a movement in and out with which anybody looking on can keep time. I also wanted it to have the movement of nuns very busy and in continuous movement but placid as a landscape has to be because after all life in a convent is the I ife of a landscape, it may look excited a landscape does 39 George Heard Hamilton, Painting and Sculpture in Europe 1880-1940, 3rd Ed. (New York: Penguin Books, 1983), 254. 40 Betsy Alayne Ryan, Gertrude Stein's Theatre of the Absolute (Ann Arbor, Michigan: UMI Press, 1984), 53. Four Saints in Our Town 15 sometimes look excited but its quality is that a landscape if it ever did go away would have to go away to stay. 41
There are several passages in Four Saints in Three Acts in which a limited number of elements are arranged and rearranged over and over agam: Scene II Pigeons on the grass alas. Pigeons on the grass alas. Short longer grass short longer longer shorter yellow grass. Pigeons large pigeons on the shorter longer yellow grass alas pigeons on the grass. If they were not pigeons what were they. If they were not pigeons on the grass alas what were they. He had heard of a third and he asked about it it was a magpie in the sky. If a magpie in the sky can not cry if the pigeon on the grass alas can alas and to pass the pigeon on the grass alas and the magpie in the sky on the sky and to try and to try alas on the grass alas the pigeon on the grass the pigeon on the grass and alas. They might be very well very well very well they might be they might be very well they might be very well very well they might be. 42 The passage renders a sense of movement that is ultimately static. In rapid succession the yellow grass is longer or shorter or longer again, pigeons come and go, a magpie flies in the sky. The ultimate effect is like Leger's The City or one of Picasso's cubist collages. The alternating images are designed to lead the mind continuously from one point to another, leaving it no place to rest; this is not unlike the movement of the birds as they touch down on the grass for just a moment before taking flight again. The passage is full of the motions of pigeons and grass and magpies, but 41 Stein, Writings and Lectures, 81. 42 Stein, Last Operas, 467-8. 16 DIANE ALMEIDA none of the movement is progressive. As the onstage characters sing or speak the words, the images seem always to return to their origins, beginning again and again, and the movement remains within the spatial limitations of the stage landscape. There are passages during which this stage picture is filled with Saints in a constantly shifting relation to one another within the landscape: Scene X Saint Ignatius. Withdrew with with withdrew. Saint Ignatius. Occurred. Saint Ignatius. Occurred withdrew. Saint Ignatius. Withdrew occurred. Saint Ignatius. Withdrew occurred. Saint Ignatius occurred Saint Ignatius withdrew occurred withdrew. Saint Sarah. Having heard that they had gone she said how many eggs are there in it. Saint Absalom. Having heard that they are gone he said how many had said how many had been where they had never been with them or with it. Saint Absalom. Might be anointed. Saint Therese. With responsibi I ity. Saint Therese. And an allowance .... 43 The image is-one of monks and nuns filling the landscape, alternating between conversation and meditation. The image of Saint Ignatius as he appears, withdraws, and reappears at the top of the scene sets the rhythm for the movement among the Saints who fade in and out of the landscape as the focus shifts from one to another. The rapid succession of short 43 /bid., 464-5. Four Saints in Our Town 17 I ines gi ves the scene the sensation of constant motion as the audience focus shifts from one Saint to another; but this motion among the Saints, I ike the pigeons before them, does not move progressively through space, from one place to another. The Saints do not have a destination, nor is their dialogue progressive. Yet the scene is full of activity. Stein was very pleased with her opera and felt that it was one of the more successful examples of the play as landscape: Anyway the play as I see it is exciting and it moves but it also stays and that is as I said in the beginning might be what a play should do. 44 Thornton Wilder's Eternal Present Thornton Wilder's fascination with time and place was apparent long before he met Gertrude Stein. In his early novels and plays this fascina- tion with history, along with a need to write on religious subjects, might be considered a precursor to the almost mystical sense of time and place that is conveyed in Our Town and The Skin of Our Teeth. Wilder's manipulation of stage time appears as early as 1931. In his one-act play, The Long Christmas Dinner, the action spans four genera- tions, from the time the Bayard family house is first built to the the time the last of the family members leave. There are references to family living before and after the time elapsed in the play, and the work achieves the sense of a parade of generations progressing through the portals of life and death. The theatrical device of the Stage Manager as narrator is also introduced in this collection in Pullman Car Hiawatha and The Happy journey to Trenton and Camden. Like The Long Christmas Dinner, Pullman Car Hiawatha calls for a minimum of scenery. The Stage Manager, in this first incarnation, opens the play in a remarkably simi lar manner to the Stage Manager of Our Town. Further on in the play, the Stage Manager locates the train's position "geographi cally, meteorol- ogi cally, astrologically, theologically." 45 In The Happy journey to Trenton and Camden, no scenery at all is called for, and the Stage Manager sets properties and reads minor roles from his typescript. And almost identically to his counterpart in Our 44 Stein, Writings and Lectures, 81. 45 Thornton Wilder, The Long Christmas Dinner and Other Plays in Once Act (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), 58. 18 DIANE ALMEIDA Town, he is seen at the opening of the play "leaning lazily against the proscenium pillar at the audience's left. He is smoking." 46 None of these devices, however, achieve the degree of resonance they acquire in Our Town and The Skin of Our Teeth. Wilder's ideas about time and place began to crystallize after he was i nspired by Gertrude Stein's The Geographical History of America: The human mind (said Gertrude Stein] ... gazes at pure existing and pure creating, and " it knows what it knows when it knows it." It can be found i n masterpieces, for masterpieces alone report the ever-unfolding and boundless now. 47 The concept of time in Our Town appears at first to be the opposite of the absolute present of Stein's Four Saints in Three Acts. In Our Town Wilder creates a sense of all time, a sense of eternity. The Stage Manager, who apparently knows everyone and everything in Grover's Corners, knows these things regardless of past, present, or future time: he knows what he knows when he knows it. At the play's opening Wilder begins to set up the framework of this all-encompassing time. After having informed the audience that the play takes place on May 7, 1901, the Stage Manager refers to events that happen nearly thirty years in the future. And from this perspective in time, the Stage Manager is able to speak about these future events in the past tense. Doc Gibbs died in 1930. The new hospital 's named after him. Mrs. Gibbs died first-long time ago, in fact. 48 He can also refer to past events in the future tense: First automobile's going to come along in five years- belonged to Banker Cartwright. 49 47 Donald Haberman, The Plays of Thornton Wilder: A Critical Study (Middleton, Connecticut: Weslayan University Press, 1967), 54-5. 48 Thornton Wilder, Our Town, A Play in Three Acts (New York: Harper & Row, 1938), 8. 49 /bid., 6. Four Saints in Our Town 19 But the scenes that the Stage Manager chooses to show us are necessarily in the present tense. What Wilder has in fact constructed, as in Stein's masterpieces, is a relationship of "the ever-unfolding and the boundless Now" to past and future time. Through the guidance of the Stage Manager, then, we are able to perceive the present of any event that he cares to show us. And what appeared at first to be the polar opposite of Stein's absolute present is actually a variation of her concept. As Haberman remarks: The remainder of time past seems to work directly in opposition to Wilder's idea of the stage's eternal now; however, it moves with a logic all its own and exists as present tense. 5 The sense of time in Our Town is similar to Stein's absolute present in its particulars and in the immediacy of the events as they are being enacted, but its scope is much broader. Time in Our Town is is liable to jump out of the present and into eternity at any given moment. Into the time capsule that will be opened "a thousand years from now," the folks of Grover's Cqrners plan to place, among other things, a copy of the very play they are playing: So people of a thousand years from now-this is the way we were in the provinces north of New York at the beginning of the twentieth century-This is the way we were: in our growing up and in our marrying and in our dying. 5 1 There are certain moments in the drama when the Stage Manager, the characters, and the audience exist concurrently in the actual present time of the performance. Mr. Webb breaks through the artificial time frame of the play when the Stage Manager invites him to speak directly to the audience. And with an effect similar to that of Four Saints in Three Acts, Wilder has created a "play without the play" of Our Town. The different techniques used to create this same effect, Wilder's Stage Manager and Stein's "creator," reflect the fundamental difference between the two authors. Stein is interested in the workings of a single human mind (her own) as it perceives the immediate world. Wilder's interest is in presenting humanity as a whole as it perceives itself across time. 50 Haberman, The Plays of Thornton Wilder, 58. 51 Wilder, Our Town, 32. 20 DIANE ALMEIDA Entity and Identity Wilder's conception of time, like Stein's, is directly related to the concepts of Human Nature and Human Mind. It is not difficult to find the correlative to Stein's concepts in Our Town. The Stage Manager, like the "creator" of Four Saints, functions as the creator of the play. He represents the entity out of which Our Town is created. He is already present in Grover's Corners before the audience arrives, and will apparently stay on long after they all have gone home. He creates Grover's Corners in time and space as the play opens. He decides what scenes are to be shown and when they are to be played. Like the "creator"/entity in Stein's play, the Stage Manager/entity is an all- encompassing presence, the source of everything that occurs onstage. As entity, the Stage Manager experiences events directly, and thus is capable of finding "a value above all price for the smallest events of our daily life." 52 He notices the dawn and appreciates the stars. He magnifies the importance of seemingly insignificant events by deliberately choosing to put them on stage. In this way, Wilder creates a world in which all of the elements are equally important. The choice of scenes implies that Howie Newsome's milk delivery, the children doing their homework, and Mr. Webb mowing his lawn are events of equal significance to a birth, a wedding, and a funeral. Like the Human Mind, the Stage Manager/entity experiences I ife directly and indiscriminately. As the Stage Manager is a variation on Stein's Human Mind/entity, the population of Grover's Corners are representative of Human Nature/identity. The people of Our Town, wrapped up in identity, are unable to achieve the objectivity of the Stage Manager while they are living. Only after death are they freed from earthly concerns: STAGE MANAGER: You know as well as I do that the dead don't stay interested in us living people for very long. Some of the things they're going to say maybe'll hurt your feelings-but that's the way it is: mother 'n daughter .. . husband 'n wife .. . enemy 'n enemy ... money 'n miser . .. all those terribly important things kind of grow pale around here. 52 Rex Burbank, Thornton Wilder, 2nd Ed. (Boston: Twayne World Publishers, 1978), 75. Four Saints in Our Town 21 And what's left when memory's gone, and your identity, Mrs. Smith? 53 As Emily discovers, it is only after death that the folks of Grover's Corners can appreciate the significance of each moment of their lives. Only the saints and poets know that their being is not reliant upon identity. Once again Wilder and Stein are using similar techniques and employing them towards different ends. Stein's " creator" is an abstrac- tion and difficult to realize. Wilder's Stage Manager is familiar and personable. Stein's interests are purely aesthetic: she is conveying an abstract concept in theatrical terms to a I imited audience. Wilder's humanitarian concerns require a recognizable entity, one that is able to get his ideas across the footlights to a larger public. He is interested in speaking to the average American in a language that is easily understood. The Landscape of Our Town One of Stein's aims in the landscape play was to create a sense of movement within a self-contained space, so that the play never moves towards or away from the audience, but moves only within its own space at a given distance from the spectator. The effect of this technique is that the images of the play begin to form a kind of cubist collage in which many images exist at the same time in the same limited space. One result is an ability to perceive at one time all the elements of the whole. In his manipulation of the sense of space in Our Town, Wilder achieved a very similar effect. The relation of Grover's Corners to the earth is established at the outset of the play: Grover's Corners, New Hampshire-just across the Massachu- setts line: Latitude 42 degrees 40 minutes; longitude 70 degrees 37 minutes. 54 53 Wilder, Our Town, 81-2. 54 /bid. , 54. 22 DIANE ALMEIDA When she tells George about Jane Crofut's letter, Rebecca Gibbs reveals the relation of Grover's Corners to the universe and beyond: Grover's Corners; Sutton County; New Hampshire; United States of America; Western Hemisphere; the Earth; the Solar System; the Universe; the Mind of God ... 55 And Professor Willard describes the geology of Grover's Corners through the ages: Grover's Corners lies on the old Pleistocene granite of the Appalachian range. I may say it' s some of the oldest land in the world. We're very proud of that. A shelf of Devonian basalt crosses it with vestiges of Mesozoic shale, and some sandstone outcropping; but that's all more recent: two hundred, three hundred million years old. 56 Grover's Corners is situated within this universal vision and revealed through the smallest detai Is: a rooster crowing, the smell of he I iotrope, the clinking of Howie Newsome's milk bottles. And from the mind of God, the postman is able to locate and deliver a letter to Jane Crofut, just the same. The effect of this placement of the tiniest details within the broadest possible expanse is similar to that of Stein's landscape plays. Here, too, there is the sense of a non progressive movement through space and time. The townsfolk of Grover's Corners go through all the motions of a I ifetime without ever moving out beyond the boundaries of the town. The Stage Manager builds, dismantles, and rebuilds the town in various configurations upon the same space: from the houses in which the children are born to the graveyard where they are buried. Thus, like the space in Four Saints, our image of Our Town is similar to a cubist collage: there is the sensation of moving through time and space within a framework that is ultimately static. Wilder employs his theatrical elements in such a way that he requires the audience members to participate in the creation of what is familiar to them all. Because Our Town is recognizable as any small American town, it becomes all towns. Stein's landscape play is the creation of pure Four Saints in Our Town 23 imagination. It is the singular product of a singular individual, full of personal idiosyncrasies that are left open to interpretation. Stein's rendering of time achieves the sense of an absolute present, always focused upon the immediate experience. Her creator/entity is acutely aware of the creative process itself. Her landscape plays are fantastic collages full of peculiar happenings. Wilder's manipulation of time achieves a sense of eternity. With the Stage Manager/entity representing the Human Mind, he achieves a sense of eternal omni- science. And through the relation of elements in space and time he achieves a sense of the universal. Thornton Wilder's plays have become a permanent part of the repertory of the mainstream American Stage; Gertrude Stein's plays are part of the repertory of avant-garde theatre. There is no doubt that both artists, who were such close friends and thought so much alike, each made a significant impact on the American theatre, each in his or her own distinctly different way. Journal of American Drama and Theatre 9 (Fall 1997) Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women, 1815-1833 AMELIA HOWE KRITZER Mary Carr Clarke, a woman who wrote for the theatre between 1815 and 1833, a period when conditions of life for American women underwent major changes, offered her perspective on those changes in her plays. Though few facts can be established regarding Carr Clarke's life, 1 a number of her writings have survived. Living in Philadelphia and New York after the death of her husband, Carr Clarke wrote to support herself and her children, at times supplementing the money she earned from her variety of writing enterprises by running a boarding house. This work, which provided tenuous financial stability but threatened the social respectabi I ity she always sought to maintain/ placed her among a growing class of self-supporting women in a period when the nation was 1 What meager biographical information I have found has been gleaned from the preface to the 1838 edition of the ghost-written Memoirs of the Celebrated and Beautiful Mrs. Ann Carson, and from references to herself in A Concise History of the Life and Amours of Thomas 5. Hamblin. Mary Carr Clarke, Memoirs of the Celebrated and Beautiful Mrs. Ann Carson, Daughter of an Officer of the U.S. Navy, and Wife of Another, Whose Life Terminated in the Philadelphia Prison, 2nd ed., revised, enlarged, and continued till her death (New York: 1838); and A Concise History of the Life and Amours of Thomas 5. Hamblin, Late Manager of the Bowery Theatre, As Communicated by his Legal Wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Hamblin, to Mrs. M. Clarke (Philadelphia and New York: 1838(?)). Not only Carr Clarke's dates of birth and death, but also her original name remain in question. Historian Susan Branson considers Mary Carr's birth name to be Clarke, reasoning that she reverted to it after the death of her husband. It seems just as likely to me, however, that Clarke was a name taken at the time of a second marriage. Since in my research I have not yet found a resolution of the question, I refer to my subject as Mary Carr Clarke, in reference to the sequence with which she used the names. (Branson refers to her as Mary Clarke Carr.) Oxford Companion to Women's Writing in the United States, ed. Cathy N. Davidson, et al. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995). 2 Writing, in the preface to Memoirs of the Celebrated and Beautiful Mrs. Ann Carson, of her residence in a working-class area, Carr Clarke emphasized the respectability of her neighbors, "a sober, industrious class of mechanics." Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women 25 undergoing rapid urbanization, industrialization, and social differentia- tion. Far from confining herself to drama, Mary Carr Clarke did various types of writing in the course of her career. In 1814 she founded a weekly magazine, The Intellectual Regale and Ladies' Tea Tray, in Philadelphia; as far as is known, she is the first woman to edit such a periodical in the United States. 3 She wrote fiction and poetry, including the serialized novel Clermont Herbert, and popular songs, such as "The Taylor's Alley Ball." She did journalistic reporting, covering the conten- tious trial in Philadelphia of a Catholic priest charged with sexual assault of a young woman. She wrote schoolbooks and ghost-wrote biographies of celebrities. An extant example of the latter is the memoir of Ann Baker Carson, a bigamist and forger who at one point gained widespread notoriety because of her involvement in a plot to kidnap the governor of Pennsylvania. Theatre, nevertheless, provided the most consistent focus for Carr Clarke's writing. Despite her constantly changing circumstances and the varied nature of her work, she was never far from theatres and the people who worked in them. She changed her residence from Philadelphia to New York in the late 1820s-just at the time New York achieved dominance over Philadelphia in theatre. By her own account,4 she worked regularly as a play reviewer; unfortunately, the anonymous nature of most reviews at that time makes attribution of particular reviews to Carr Clarke next to impossible. 5 She also wrote biographies or pseudo- biographies of theatre figures of her day, including A Concise History of 3 1n a biographical sketch in the Oxford Companion to Women 's Writing in the United States, Susan Branson credits Carr Clarke with being the first female magazine editor in the United States. Eleanor Wolf Thompson, in Education for Ladies 1830- 1860: Ideas on Education in Magazines for Women, notes that Carr Clarke initiated the style in which a female editor addressed her readers as intimate friends, long before the much better known Sarah Josepha Hale adopted this style as edit or of Codey's Lady's Book. Eleanor Wolf Thompson, Education for Ladies 1830-1860: Ideas on Education in Magazines for Women (Morningside Heights, NY: King's Crown Press, 1947), annotated in Nancy K. Humphreys, American Women's Magazines: An Annotated Historical Guide (New York: Garland, 1989). 4 Carr Clarke often refers to her own activities in A Concise History, and it is here that she mentions her work as a play reviewer. 5 Johnson and Crain emphasize the difficulty of attribution in early nineteenth- century American drama criticism: "Criticisms were almost never signed, even in magazines carrying a regular weekly or monthly column o.r department." Albert E. Johnson and W. H. Crain, Jr., "A Dictionary of American Drama Critics, 1850-1910," The Theatre Annual XIII (1955) : 66. 26 AMELIA HOWE KRITZER the Life and Amours of Thomas 5. Hamblin, Late Manager of the Bowery Theatre As Communicated by his Legal Wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Hamblin, 6 and a biography of Edwin Forrest which is not extant. Finally, Mary Carr Clarke wrote three plays: The Fair Americans {1815), The Benevolent Lawyers {1823), and Sarah Maria Cornell, or The Fall River Murder (1833). These plays center on female characters whose own work makes them self-sufficient women. Each play provides vivid glimpses of the lives and work of women in the early nineteenth century. At the same time, they chart a disturbing trajectory from confidence and optimism to betrayal and anger. The first of Carr Clarke's plays, The Fair Americans (published under her first known name, Mary Carr), a comedy with music, was performed in Philadelphia at the Chestnut Street Theatre in 1815. A product of early American interest in dramatizing contemporary historical events. 7 this play deals with the War of 1812 and was performed during celebrations of American victory in that conflict. Though it includes scenes set in an army encampment, The Fair Americans, as its title implies, actually focuses on the women who tend the home fires before, during, and after the military conflict. It shares with other comedies by women in the early national period a confidence that the freedom enjoyed by women in the new nation would naturally lead to their happiness. 8 Most of the play's action takes place on a family farm near Erie, Pennsylvania, occupied by the Fairfield family. The first scene, in which two young women walk along the shore of Lake Erie at daybreak, creates a sense of pastoral tranquility; however, the idyllic calm is broken almost immediately, when the young women encounter a recruiting party with news of impending war. Meanwhile, at the Fairfield's home, the shouted orders of Mrs. Fairfield create an even more jarring break with the quiet of early morning. This doughty farm wife strides onstage and energeti- cally rail ies her domestic troops for the work day: 6 A Concise History is, at best, a highly partisan account sympathetic to Elizabeth Blanchard Hamblin and unsympathetic to Louisa Medina, with whom Hamblin lived. At worst, it is an attempt to undermine a rival playwright-Medina-with whom Carr Clarke seems as much occupied as with Hamblin. 7 William W. Clapp, Jr., A Record of the Boston Stage, Reprint of 1853 ed. (New York: Greenwood, 1969), 134. 8 Thes.e include Slaves in Algiers (1794) by Susanna Haswell Rowson, Virtue Triumphant (1795) and The Traveller Returned (1796) by judith Sargent Murray, and The Young Carolinians (1818) by Sarah Pogson. Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women 27 Sun half an hour high, and not one wheel 9 going in the house! Cows to milk, breakfast to get, bread to bake, beer to brew, butter to churn, cheese to press-everything to do, and nothing doing! ( 188) 10 The Fairfield farm, as is evident in the list of activities rattled off by Mrs. Fairfield, functions as a busy center of productivity, generating wealth for the family and community. Mrs. Fairfield dominates this setting, defining and directing its productive activities. The play makes it clear that the farm's prosperity depends on Mrs. Fairfield's management, and she demands recognition for her work at one point, when she exclaims to her husband: Did not I get four hundred yards wove last year, all spun in the house, and ha'nt I the best dairy, the fattest pigs, and finest breed of poultry in the country? Don't I make more butter and cheese than any woman in the village? (190) Letters, diaries, and other first-person accounts from the period validate the play' s presentation both of the rural household as an important center of productivity in pre-industrial America and of the integral part played by the farm wife in production. 11 The scenes that bring the War of 1812 to the stage-scenes in which a recruiting party seeks enlistments, farmers and villagers debate the merits of the war, and preparations for fighting occur at an army encampment-highlight the separation between men's and women's spheres at that time. When the war breaks out, most of the young men leave to fight, despite frequently voiced questions over the validity of the - conflict. The older men devote themselves to gathering news of the fighting and discussing the progress of the war. The play, however, subordinates the war episodes and the male characters to its central focus on the women who maintain the integrity and prosperity of the farm household during this time of threats and upheaval. While complaining 9 The reference is to spinning wheels. Spinning and weaving of thread and cloth for everyday clothing was a common activity of rural households in early America. 10 Page numbers refer to The Fair Americans. An Original Comedy in Five Acts (Philadelphia: 1815) in Plays by Early American Women, 1775-1850, ed. Amelia Howe Kritzer (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1995). - 11 See, for example, accounts in Gerda Lerner, The Female Experience: An American Documentary (New York: Macmillan, 1985). 28 AMELIA HOWE KRITZER . about the difficulty of getting tasks like the plowing done with sons and a hired man gone, Mrs. Fairfield allows nothing to interrupt the day-to- day work of the farm. She even sees new potentials for productivity in the circumstances of the war: because of the ban on imports, she says, "I plan to make my girls spin their own muslin gowns next year, and William's room shall be taken to raise silkworms in, that I may manufac- ture my own silk" (198). 12 While the household provides the sole context for Mrs. Fairfield's self-sufficiency, this domestic sphere is not marginalized by an opposition between pub I ic and private. Instead, the household functions as an institution that is both central and permeable. It figures as both public and private space; in the action of the play it encompasses all three categories contained in Habermas's concept of the public sphere-the state, the economy, and the arena of pub I ic discourse. 13 The farm serves as workplace and primary economic support not only for family members but also for several paid workers. It is permeated by affairs of state when the family is called upon to support an embargo on imported goods. 14 Debates and decisions about the war take place within the home. In the wake of the American victory, it is within the family that relations with England are restored to normal, when an English soldier who found refuge with the family is welcomed as a prospective son-in-law. The Fair Americans creates the household as the primary metaphor for the nation itself. Characters establish their identity as Americans through their relationship to it. It is headed not by the husband, but by the partnership of the husband and wife. Mr. Fairfield's position of leadership appears as a symbolic one, while Mrs. Fairfield's energetic direction and actual labor keep the household going. Though lacking rights of ownership, Mrs. Fairfield has the power to define and shape the household environment, its boundaries, its inhabitants, and its activities. 12 While the idea of manufacturing si lk might seem far-fetched, it was not unknown. Susanna Wright, a remarkable eighteenth-century woman, carried on a profitable silk-making enterprise on her Pennsylvania farm, harvesting sil k from the thousands of silkworms she cul tivated and weaving it into cloth. See Sharon Harri s, ed., American Women Writers to 1800 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 269. 13 J urgen Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1989). 14 Jeanne Boydston first brought to my attention the permeable nature of the early American household, from the time of pre-Revolutionary boycotts of tea and other goods, in Home and Work: Housework, Wages, and the Ideology of Labor in the Early Republic (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990). Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women 29 The household's independence guarantees the autonomy of all those who are part of it, and that guarantee clearly includes the young women, the "fair Americans" of the title. Exercising their freedom with energy and optimism, the young women come and go, night or day, with ho apparent restrictions other than Mrs. Fairfield's demands for their labor. Their freedom of movement in the midst of war does, of course, entail risk, and two of the young women are captured by hostile Indians as they walk along the edge of the lake one night. The happy ending of this incident, however, suggests that the young women do themselves and their families no harm through their adventurous, risk-taking behavior. In fact, the venturesome nature of the young women aids their active search for the right marriage partner. Both the daughters of the farm's owners and the young woman hired to do household work make their own choices in marriage. In notable contrast to the foppish Ensign Freelove, who wants to find a wealthy wife in order to secure a position in the world, they make their choices on the basis of personal feeling rather than economic considerations. 15 The young people's anticipation of happiness at the war's end, when they plan their weddings, receives validation from the comfortable situation and affectionate relationship of the middle-aged Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield. The play shows its audience only one blot on this pleasant picture, and that is a political one-the lack of a political role for women. The "fair Americans" repeatedly voice frustration at that lack. Although the outbreak of the war calls forth vigorous debate among all the characters, the male characters ignore and denigrate the views of the women. When Sophia Fairfield expresses shock that her brother would volunteer to serve in what she terms an "unnatural contest," he lectures her: It is not for girls to condemn the rulers of a nation. We have chosen these men to act for the welfare of the country .. . certainly, then, what they decree must be for the true interest and honor of America. (195) Mrs. Fairfield, whose single-minded dedication to productivity makes her an opponent of the war, later declares, "I wish I was Congress, I would always be at peace!" This statement, though intended for humor, alludes 15 The Fair Americans differs from post-Revolutionary dramas by Susanna Rowson, Judith Sargent Murray, and Sarah Pogson in that the young women do not think about the alternative of remaining single. I see this as related to the fact that Carr Clarke, unlike the other three playwrights, bases her characters on people who lack inherited wealth. For that class of people, in that period (male and female), not marrying was a luxury few could afford. 30 AMELIA HOWE KRITZER to Mrs. Fairfield's expansive conception of herself, while it also displays her knowledge of the workings of the government from which she is excluded-here, the power of Congress to declare war. Mr. Fairfield responds only to his wife's humor: "Well, my dear, we will run you for President when we want an old woman in the chair" (198). This dismissal of the opinions of women on political issues is, of course, consistent with the fact that women were denied political rights at the time. The only political role offered women in the new nation was that of the "republican mother," a construct that gave women the tasks of teaching, exemplifying, and guarding the ideals of the nation within their families. As historian Linda Kerber has pointed out, republican mothers were supposed to serve as "monitors of the political behavior of their lovers, husbands, and children." 16 Unlike the American women playwrights of the post-Revolutionary period, who built upon and attempted to expand the concept of the rep ubi ican mother, Carr Clarke shows us the limitations of the republican mother construct, both in the men's disregard for the mother's views and in the mother's own narrow attitude that what is good for her own household must be good for the nation. Instead, Carr Clarke has the female characters begin to voice demands for overtly political roles, while emphasizing the importance of women in the nation's economic life. In representing the characters of The Fair Americans as "typical" American women, Carr Clarke brought attention to the essential work of women and used this work as the basis of a claim for a political voice. The difficulty in establishing a foothold in the American theatre, combined with Carr Clarke's need to earn money, may account for the eight-year hiatus between The Fair Americans and her next known play, The Benevolent Lawyers; or, Villainy Detected, in 1823. In any case, the context for the self-sufficient woman changes radically in this second play. An early melodrama, The Benevolent Lawyers presents a young married woman who, in the absence of her sea-captain husband, provides for herself and her family by sewing. Her poverty makes her vulnerable to the predations of several villains, but she is aided by her sister-in-law and a free black household worker, and finally saved from catastrophe by a couple of public-spirited lawyers. The absence of the heroine's husband at sea, though a realistic detail in the time period, can be seen metaphorically as referring to the wide gulf between domestic and nondomestic work taking shape with urbanization and industrializa- 16 Linda K. Kerber, "A Constitutional Right to Be Treated Like American Ladies: Women and the Obligations of Citizenship," in U.S. History as Women's History, ed. Linda K. Kerber, Alice Chessler-Harris, and Kathryn Kish Sklar (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1995), 25. Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women 31 tion. In a similar way, the home-based occupation of sewing, also realistic, demonstrates the confinement of women-even those who needed to support themselves-to a private domestic sphere. It repre- sents the way in which separation of spheres and confinement of women to the private one denied even self-supporting women the power to define or shape the conditions of their lives. The main character of the play, Mrs. Campbell , who is not actually seen unti I Act Three, stays within the boundaries of her home until compelled by extreme circumstances to leave it. The dangers that threaten her within this enclosed and private environment cast ironic doubt on the value of "home" as a secure sanctuary for women and children. They include being turned out of her house for failure to pay the rent, having her home invaded by a man who intends to rape her, and having her children kidnapped and killed by agents of her madly vengeful mother. Her response to these threats is a largely passive defense: she maintains her virtue, trusts in the actions of her friends, and hopes that her husband will return in time to prevent disaster. Only when the would-be rapist installs himself in her home does she leave it and seek refuge with friends. Similarly, it is the crowning disaster-the kidnapping of her children in the middle of the night-that rouses Mrs. Campbell to action. A friend describes her as "quite deranged" (65), 17 and says that in spite of the opiates which have been administered to her, she has to be physically restrained from dashing out into the street. Incidentally, in a counter-stereotypical contrast to this image of a woman propelled into frantic action by distress, the play has Captain Campbell, when he returns to find his home abandoned and his family gone, collapse in distress. In The Melodramatic Imagination (1976), Peter Brooks describes melodrama as "the dramaturgy of virtue misprized and eventually recognized. It is about virtue made visible and acknowledged." 18 In this case, the virtue of Mrs. Campbell, which has been hidden so completely behind the walls of her domicile that even her immediate neighbors do not know her, is brought to the attention of those outside her domestic sphere by the threatened destruction of her family. Before the threats of catastrophe descend on her, she is described by a friend as "blest with every gift of heaven, beauty, mind, soul and sentiment; affections ardent 17 Page numbers refer to original edition: Mary Carr Clarke, The Benevolent Lawyers; or, Villainy Detected. A Comedy in Five Acts (Philadelphia: 1823), Microfilm Three Centuries of Drama, American. 18 Peter Brooks, The Melodramatic Imagination (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1976), 27. 32 AMELIA HOWE KRITZER and sincere; honour and integrity" (9). Significantly, the person who is being told about Mrs. Campbell 's virtues entirely misunderstands who the speaker is talking about. Similarly, a wealthy neighbor admires the workmanship of the elegant trimming adorning her ball gown, but does not realize it was made by Mrs. Campbell, her sister and daughter. From the outside, the neighbors perceive only a neatly kept house from which lovely piano music often issues. The inside-the-house view afforded the audience shows an affectionate mother, loyal wife, and competent provider. The character communicates most of this through images and actions, rather than words. Mrs. Campbell speaks l ittle; even the reunion with her husband and children evokes only the briefest verbal expression of joy. The virtues this female character exemplifies-those virtues which are validated by the outcome of the play-are consistent with the most limiting patriarchal definitions of woman, despite this character's temporary self-sufficiency. In Melodrama and the Myth of America, Jeffrey Mason articulates the basis of melodrama as follows: "Each melodrama must satisfy its audience concerning the nature not of virtue, but of evil, of that which places virtue in jeopardy, of that which virtue fears." 19 The Benevolent Lawyers creates two vivid images of evil. One is commonplace: the villainous man bent on sexual exploitation-an image often invoked to justify limitations placed on women supposedly for their protection. The second vision of evil is much more original: a murderously malignant mother. Mrs. Loverule is a woman bent on the destruction of her illegitimate daughter, Mrs. Campbell, because she blames the daughter for her humiliation and sense of loss. Mrs. Loverule is a woman of independent means, though her wealth is derived from her connections with men rather than from her own endeavor, and with her money she buys the cooperation of others in her nefarious scheme. Mrs. Loverule has obviously renounced maternity, and with it, the other traditional virtues. Not content merely to have abandoned her child, she has returned after years of absence to destroy the happy life that the young woman has managed to construct in spite of her disadvantages. Mrs. Loverule even arranges for the kidnapping and murder of her own grandchildren. (Their murders are foiled by the resourceful double- dealing of two servants-one Irish and the other black. 20 ) The opposition 19 Jeffrey D. Mason, Melodrama and the Myth of America (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993), 18. 2 Carr Clarke was unusual in challenging the negative, stereotypical characterizations of Iri sh and black domestic workers typical in the drama of the early nineteenth century. Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women 33 between virtuous daughter and evil mother is emphasized by the latter's excessive speech. Mrs. Loverule engages in lengthy soliloquies, recounting her own sufferings and laying plots for her daughter's destruction. What emerges in the contest between the active monster of inverted motherhood and the passive daughter is, very clearly, a triumph of traditional feminine virtue. The context for female self-sufficiency in The Benevolent Lawyers is, by comparison with The Fair Americans, vastly less empowering for women. Although the concept of domestic partnership remains, the physical absence of the husband and relative passivity of the wife problematize the concept. The play expresses a definite fear that freedom exercised by women may bring them or their families to grief. While it places some responsibility on the man whose sowing of "wild oats" resulted in an illegitimate child, the play presents him as a kindly old man who has since redeemed himself through devotion to the woman he eventually did marry, and by service to his family and community. Mrs. Loverule, on the other hand, by forsaking the patterns of accepted feminine virtue and the traditional family structure, has become a grotesquely damaged person and an extraordinary source of poison i n society. While the stark contrast between the virtuous woman and the evil one provides the most obvious drama in the play, The Benevolent Lawyers does contain two characters who can be seen as a tentative alternative to this opposition. Charlotte Friendly, a neighbor of Mrs. Campbell, is a young woman who seems to exercise more control than do the other characters over the conditions of her life. She moves about independently, has many of her on-stage scenes in outdoor places, makes social contact with people who interest her regardless of their class or position, and insists on making her own choice of marriage partner. On the other hand, Charlotte's independence derives from inherited wealth rather than from her own work. Matilda Campbell, Mrs. Campbell's sister-in-law, though seldom seen outside the house, takes an active stance in defending it when it is besieged. 21 The more assertive Matilda counters Mrs. Loverule's insulting comments about Mrs. Campbell; in response, the villainess accuses Matilda of being a man (and, by sneering implication, a paramour of Mrs. Campbell) dressed as a woman. Matilda 21 1t may be worth noting that Mati Ida Campbell ' s initials are the same as Mary Clarke's. This coincidence can be accorded added significance with the real ization that The Benevolent Lawyers was written at a time when Carr Clarke had chosen to shelter Ann Baker Carson, who had been paroled. While strongly condemning Baker Carson's crimes, she felt a bond with her because both had suffered similar misfortunes. 34 AMELIA HOWE KRITZER remains calm and continues to demand respect. It is also Matilda who rescues Mrs. Campbell when a fainting episode puts her at the mercy of the man who intends to rape her. At the end of the play, both Charlotte and Matilda become engaged to be married, but the world they inhabit lacks both the sense of other options and the positive view of life after marriage contained in The Fair Americans. Thus, the sense of rejoicing is subdued, and the formation of new famil ies does not make a symboli c I ink with the formation of a new nation and the generation of new possibilities. Mary Carr Clarke's last known play, Sarah Maria Cornell, or The Fall River Murder (1833L shows the self-sufficient woman not only under siege, but ultimately powerless. Its central character, a young female textile mill worker, while independent to a degree Mrs. Fairfield and Mrs. Campbell have not been, lacks home, family, or familial support. The character, Sarah Maria Cornell/ 2 possesses all the traditional virtues, but these are not enough to save her. This play, which can be seen as a melodrama that goes awry and does not result in the heroine's being saved, is based on the actual murder of a female factory worker in Fall River, Massachusetts, and the sensational trial of a Methodist minister for the murder. When Cornell's body was found hanging from the framework covering a haystack on a farm near Fall River, just before Christmas in 1832, the death was initially judged a suicide. Subsequent examina- tions, however, revealed evidence of a violent struggle; in addition, i njuries to the body, including evidence of a crude attempt at abortion (the murder victim, as it happened, was several months pregnant) and the "clove hitch" knot with which the rope was tied, pointed to murder. Letters found among Cornell's belongings impl icated Ephraim Avery, a married Methodist minister in a nearby town. Publicity about the suspect brought forward Cornell's physician, who made it known that she had come to him for diagnosis of pregnancy and named Avery as her seducer, as well as witnesses who said that they had seen a man of Avery's description near the farm on the night of the murder. Inquiries estab- lished that Avery had been absent from home on the night of the murder, and he himself compounded his appearance of guilt by fleeing to New Hampshire, forcing authorities to mount a search that culminated in his being brought back and indicted in early March of 1833. Although neither the victim nor the accused were well known, the trial , which began in early May, attracted unprecedented publicity. 22 By using Cornell's full name (which was not typi cal in accounts of the murder and trial), Mary Clarke again presents an important character whose initials relate to her own. Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women 35 Journalists from all over New England descended on Newport, Rhode Island, for the trial. The pre-trial publicity made it difficult to find unbiased jurors, and a record one hundred and eight were challenged before a jury was seated. 23 With the financial and moral backing of the Methodist Church, Avery hired an expert defense lawyer from Boston. Using the now-familiar strategy of trying the victim in sexual assault cases, this lawyer obtained an acquittal after a record-setting four weeks of testimony and argument. 24 Reporters who had covered the trial expressed virtually unanimous outrage at the trial's outcome, sounding a particularly resonant chord among women-who, it must be remem- bered, were not permitted to serve on juries or sit as judges at that time. Mary Carr Clarke, who had covered an earlier trial in Philadelphia involving a member of the clergy, may have been among the reporters who covered the Avery trial. In any case, she was one of two writers, both women, to publish full-length works about the case sympathetic to Cornell . 25 Carr Clarke's play uses the real names of the murder victim and the farmer who found the body and makes only the thinnest pretense of disguising the name of the Methodist minister, calling him Mr. Averio. Its episodic plot, which must have relied on audience knowledge of the case, simplifies events and collapses the actual figures of the Fall River coroner and Cornell's physician into the fictional Dr. Neverflinch. The primary focus of the play lies in the opposition it creates between the title character and Mr. Averio, as melodramatically stark representa- t ives of good and evil. Sarah Maria Cornell is presented as a woman of great beauty, exemplary virtue, and outstanding industry. The first scene shows Sarah's friends at the factory thanking her for instances of generosity and loyalty. Most emphatically, her friends praise Sarah' s hard work and productivity; at one point, she is referred to as " the best hand in [the] factory" (32). 26 By contrast, Mr. Averio and his fellow ministers show themselves to be licentious, greedy, and deceitful. Preparing for a camp meeting-a type of outdoor revival service that went on for days and attracted large crowds -they anticipate large donations and sexual 23 Catherine Read Williams, Fall River: An Authentic Narrative, ed. Patricia Caldwell (New York: Oxford, 1993), 43 . 24 For a thorough discussion of the murder investigation and trial , see David Richard Kasserman, Fall River Outrage: Life, Murder, and justice in Early Industrial New England (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1986). 25 The other, Catharine Read Williams, wrote a documentary-style narrative. 26 Page numbers refer to original edition: Sarah Maria Cornell, or, The Fall River Murder. A Domestic Drama in Three Acts (New York: 1833). 36 AMELIA HOWE KRITZER conquests. Even the ministers' own wives are not safe from the advances of the others; in fact, Clarke's play accounts for one of the much- discussed elements of the actual case-the fact that Avery's wife stood by him-by portraying her as having a tryst with one of his fellow ministers on the night of the murder. The seduction scene forms the central episode in the play's action. Although the play itself refers to the scene as a seduction, by contempo- rary standards, the action it represents is a rape. At the camp meeting, Sarah goes with Averio to a deserted spot where Averio begins to make sexual advances. Sarah refuses him, but he grabs her and carries her off deeper into the woods, while her cries for help rouse several people to look for her but do not bring effectual aid. In the aftermath of this scene, Sarah shows strength of spirit, spurning Averio's offer of support because it would compel her to live as his mistress and dismissing the young farmer who has been courting her because she does not want to "deceive" him by "a semblance of virtue" (31 ). Though in later scenes Sarah assures Averio she will do nothing to jeopardize his reputation, she begins to fear for her safety as soon as she tells him of the pregnancy. When he asks her to meet him after dark, she does so in the hope that he wi II place her in a "private asylum" for women in her condition, but takes the precaution of leaving a note in her room to "detect him if he means me wrong" (37) . When they meet, Averio roughly demands that she take a drug to induce abortion; when she refuses, he drags her off, strangling her. With its title character dead, the remainder of the play, comprising only eight of its forty-eight pages, brings the story to an abrupt close. Averio is shown tying the body to the haystack cover and sneaking away. Discovery of the body occurs. In a very brief trial scene, the crucial testimony of the doctor is thrown out on a technicality, and the case is dismissed. The play ends with Sarah's funeral, which includes a tribute to her as "the i 11-fated victim of seduction and barbarity," a tableau around her bier, and a procession off the stage. Although this play clearly seems to be an attempt to re-try the case in the court of public opinion, it does not focus on a re-examination of the evidence or arguments introduced during the murder trial. Instead, it attempts to re-present the character of the murdered woman, to undo the post-mortem damage done to her by the character-assassination tactics of the defense lawyer. The issues raised in the play, however, go beyond justice for one woman and extend to the entire class of self- supporting women of which Clarke was a part. The sympathetic portrayal of Sarah Maria Cornell's character attempts to establish the principle that women can work in the pub I ic sphere, supporting themselves and living independently of the traditional family without Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women 37 losing or violating traditional systems of morality-an issue which was implicit in the debates surrounding the murder triaiY The play buttresses this principle with a positive portrayal of Mr. Thornhill, the factory manager, who treats his female employees in a non-exploitative manner. The play's emphasis on Cornell's hard work and high productivity poi nts to the fact that women can and do make valuable economic and social contributions through their work outside the domestic sphere. Of course, the fate of the play's main character is sealed from the start: despite her strengths and virtues, Sarah does not survive. The context in which she lives and works is now defined not only by gender division but also by a class division between owners and workers. Unlike male factory workers, Sarah must choose between home and work. Like them, she can earn a living but can never gain additional power or alter her circumstances through her work. Though Clarke seems at a loss in her construction of the play to account for Sarah's irresistible urge to attend the camp meeting, this urge can easily be seen as a longing for some kind of family and for a sense of power within it. The Methodist Church which sheltered and defended Avery was actually notable among American Christian denominations of the nineteenth century for the relatively high status it accorded to women. 28 In the play, however, the institution which seems to offer such promise delivers only the most banal of evils-an evil which would have been instantly recognized by a young woman on her own had it not been cloaked in religious garb. This play reverses the melodramatic pattern identified by Peter Brooks: rather than making a previously"overlooked virtue visible, it brings about the recognition of a hidden evil. In addition to exposing the nature of evil, the play attempts to expand our understanding of virtue, but it cannot offer any assurance that good will win out. Any optimistic view of Sarah Maria Cornell must move outside the framework of the play to look at the relationship between Mary Carr Clarke and the play she wrote. The play was performed in New York at the Richmond Hill Theatre in August of 1833, a mere three months after the verdict in the Avery trial. The Richmond Hill occupied a marginal position in the New York theatre world of the early 1830s, struggling for survival with a variety of entertainments and featuring performers who were not yet, or had ceased to be, or would never be regulars at the Park or Bowery. There is some indication, however, that the Richmond Hill served at least intermittently as a female-oriented venue, especially during its management by Elizabeth Blanchard Hamblin (though Charles Young 27 See Kasserman, 2-3. 28 See Kasserman. 38 AMELIA HOWE KRITZER was the manager when Sarah Maria Cornell was produced there). 29 In what must have been a welcome taste of success for both the Richmond Hill and Mary Carr Clarke, the play attracted overflowing audiences, and its run was extended into September. Given the history of this theatre and the nature of this play, one must wonder to what extent the success of this production was based on attendance by the "community of women workers" that came into existence in New York in the early years of the nineteenth century, forming, as Christine Stansell argues, " a city of women with its own economic relations and cultural forms." 30 The play's subject matter, like the actual trial, caused considerable contro- versy. The Mirror, a weekly digest of features and reviews that catered to New York's burgeoning upper middle class, published a September 21 review strongly condemning the play. Though pointedly admitting to not having seen the work, the reviewer thundered: So gross a violation of propriety and public decency has seldom been committed in this city, and it may doubtless be classed as an offence for which the author, his aiders and abettors, may be presented and indicted. 31 The review goes on to draw on the trial's campaign of character defamation to suggest that the murder victim should be made an object of blame rather than sympathetic identification. Pointing to the play's frank repudiation of the jury's decision to acquit Avery, the Mirror calls for suppression of Sarah Maria Cornell through legal means: "We say, then, this display of public calumny-this open breach of propriety-this bringing into disrepute the judicial power of the country, is a nuisance which ought to be abated by the authorities." 32 Considering the threats made in response to the play, its author, who was apparently unknown to the Mirror and is not mentioned in nineteenth-century or contemporary accounts of the trial or the play, could have chosen to remain anonymous. However, in defiance of a 29 See George C. D. Odell, Annals of the New York Stage, Vol. Ill (New York: Columbia, 1928). 3 Christine Stansell, City of Women: Sex and Class in New York, 1789-1860 (New York: Knopf, 1986), xi. 31 New York Mirror: A Weekly Gazette of Literature and the Fine Arts, Sept. 21 , 1833; Oct. 5, 1833. 32 /bid., 94. Mary Carr Clarke's Dramas of Working Women 39 possible libel suit-perhaps even inviting such a suit as a way of getting the matter back into court-Mary Carr Clarke immediately published the play under her own name. With this action she created an alternative to the existing system of representation. Not only did she place Sarah Maria Cornell, the "sister" forever enclosed within the confines of her narrative, on stage to "speak" for herself, but also put herself forward as the author of truth in the matter. The ultimate effect of the play, either in performed or published form, is unclear. It seems to have faded from sight once its performances concluded. Avery seems not to have filed a libel suit. As far as is known, Carr Clarke wrote no more plays. It did, however, seem to usher in a new era for the Bowery Theatre. The Bowery's manager, Thomas Hamblin, immediately enlisted the acting talents of Matilda Twibill Flynn, who had played Sarah Maria Cornell, and soon had a house playwright, Louisa Medina, turning out sensational drama written from a woman's perspective. The Bowery subsequently found commercial success in the style of play that had been proved viable by Sarah Maria Cornell at the Richmond Hill. The work which concludes Mary Carr Clarke' s writing career suggests an intense, but ineffectual, anger in response to her own struggles and those of other working women. The collaborative biographical work about Hamblin, which claims to be "communicated by" and certainly champions the viewpoint of his estranged wife, indicts Hamblin for exploitative and brutal treatment of his first wife during their marriage and afterward. The account also tries to cast doubt on some of the admirable managerial actions attributed to Hamblin (such as promoting the work of American dramatists) on which he was building a positive reputation. The unmistakable bitterness with which Carr Clarke denounces Hamblin can be readily understood if she did, indeed, view him as someone who had usurped the authentic voice of working women. It seems likely that at this point, Carr Clarke considered both public institutions like the legal system and private ones like the theatre to have failed her and other women in a similar socioeconomic position. journal of American Drama and Theatre 9 (Fall 199 7) Pioneering Theatre Managers: Edna Kenton and Eleanor Fitzgerald of the Provincetown Players CHERYL BLACK "I did my best, Susan, and I had the time of my life." Edna Kenton to Susan Glaspell, May 28, 1924 Perhaps the most neglected and least appreciated members of any theatrical organization are those who perform the myriad tasks necessary to keep the organization functioning smoothly on a day-to-day basis. Even so eccentric an organization as the Provincetown Players had to deal with the usual administrative concerns: establishing operational policies, selecting plays and making up season bills, acquiring personnel, developing an audience, fundraising, bookkeeping, and publicizing. Performing these tasks successfully is challenging for any arts organization. For the Provincetown Players, given the experimental nature of the association and its gifted, temperamental, and inexperi- enced membership, the challenge was particularly formidable. And yet they met that challenge with remarkable success. The Provincetown Players survived for eight seasons, establishing and maintaining one of the most devoted subscription audiences in the history of American theatre. Relying almost exclusively on audience support, they stayed afloat financially, at the same time remaining remarkably faithful to their artistic goals. 1 Despite its critical significance, historians have rarely investigated theatre management at Provincetown. Theoretically, "conducting the business of the club" was the responsibility of a small executive committee, comprised of the group's 1 The primary objective of the Provincetown Players was to encourage American playwrights by producing "American plays of real artistic (l iterary or dramat ic)-as opposed to 'Broadway' merit." Constitution and Resolut ions of the Provincetown Players, in Minute Book, Cage Collection, New York Public Library at Lincoln Center. Pioneering Theatre Managers 41 most important members. 2 Throughout the history of the Provincetown Players, however, only two prominent members devoted themselves exclusively to this task: Edna Kenton and Eleanor Fitzgerald. This study examines their careers. Edna Baldwin Kenton (1876-1954) was born in Springfield, Missouri, and educated at the University of Michigan. A writer and editor, she was a notable figure in Chicago literary circles in the 1890s and 191 Os, a friend to George Cram Uig) Cook, Susan Glaspell, Carl Van Vechten, Sherwood Anderson, Theodore Dreiser, and Floyd Dell. An early and ardent feminist, Kenton was one of the first writers to define "feminism" and to articulate its goals for a general readership. 3 Kenton's colleague Floyd Dell considered her an emininently "modern" woman, an astute literary critic, and wise dispenser of romantic advice. 4 Her own romantic life remains, alas, a mystery. She never married and her gossipy correspondence fails to mention any romantic relationships. A somewhat mystifying but intriguing note from Dell implies that Kenton might have been a lesbian: I know an interesting girl here who threatens to move to New York. If she does it is a case distinctly for you. She signs "Karl Meir" to a good review. Beautiful. Former actress. Renegade and modern, hates women ... 5 Kenton arrived in Provincetown, at Cook's invitation, in Summer 1916. Although not on the list of founding members (drawn up in September 1916), Kenton had apparently already committed herself to 2 Executive committee members (throughout the company's history) included the group's founder George Cram Cook, playwrights Susan Glaspell and Eugene O'Neill, actress Ida Rauh, and designer Cleon Throckmorton. Although they were all influential in management, they were primarily concerned with their artistic contributions. 3 See Kenton,"Feminism Will Give-Men More Fun, Women Greater Scope, and Life More Charm," Delineator, July 1914, and Kenton, "The Militant Woman-and Women," Century 87, November 1913. 4 See correspondence between Dell and Kenton, 1912-?, The Harvard Theatre collection, The Houghton Library. See also Dell, Homecoming (New York: Farrar & Rinehart), 1933, 200. 5 Fioyd Dell to Edna Kenton, n. d. (1912?), The Harvard Theatre Col lecti on, The Houghton Library. 42 CHERYL BLACK Edna Kenton, Jack Reed and Ethel Plummer. (From The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library.) Pioneering Theatre Managers 43 the Provincetown Players. She became an active member on October 5 and a member of the executive committee in February 1917. Although she was a gifted writer, she never wrote a play for the company; she never acted or designed. As Kenton later explained, she was interested in "the adventure as a whole'': My place in the group was always a rather oddly detached one as to obvious interests .... I was interested in the experiment itself and all of the material used in it-that of founding and sustaining an experimental theatre. 6 Susan Glaspelllater substantiated Kenton's disinterested devotion: "Edna, more than any other, loved the thing itself. She gave us freely of an intelligence money couldn't have bought." 7 Kenton always argued that an amateur status was essential to the company's experimental goals; she was in fact the only executive committee member that voted against moving Eugene O'Neill's The Emperor jones uptown in 1920. For Kenton, the commercial success of The Emperor jones, which set a new standard for Provincetown produc- tions, was the "beginning of the end." 8 Although devoted to the experimental, noncommercial goals of the Provincetown Players, Kenton distrusted their notion of collectiye creation. In her memoir, she made several references to "idealism" versus "efficiency" or "competence," at one point commenting wryly that "there is something to be said for the 'one-man' instead of the 'group' idea in drawing up a circular." 9 When Kenton reported with satisfaction that "democracy sooner or later sifts down to a very small 6 Kenton, " The Provincetown Theatre and Macdougal Street," preface to George Cram Cook, Creek Coins (New York: H. Doran, 1925), 18-19. 7 Susan Glaspell to Eleanor Fitzgerald, 31 May 1924, The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. 8 Kenton, " The Provincetown Players and the Playwright's Theater," mss., Provincetown Players Archive, Fales Library, New York University, 169, 173-74. Following the example of Robert K. Sarlos, I will hereafter refer to this mss. as "History." See Robert K. Sarlos, Jig Cook and the Provincetown Players (University of Massachusetts Press, 1982). 9 Kenton, " History," 65. 44 CHERYL BLACK executive group," it is clear that she intended to become one of that group. 10 Transferring responsibilities for reading plays from all active members to a select group was one of the first policy changes that Kenton advocated. To some, this decision seemed a violation of the group's collectivist principles, but Kenton reported flatly that "reading the plays aloud was impossible. After a final plea from Hutch Hapgood for democracy, efficiency triumphed." 11 A small committee that included Kenton assumed responsibility for reading plays. The Players were soon overwhelmed with dramatic submissions. A newspaper article reported in February 1920 that plays were pouring in from "east, west, north, and south." 12 Despite the volume, Kenton claimed that she and Susan Glaspell read every play submitted. 13 Glaspell corroborated this claim by referring to "the nights Edna has sat over there reading plays no one else would read, and this in years when it wasn't a job for her." 14 Eventually reading and selecting plays became both a primary responsibility and a paid position for Kenton. 15 As one who sorted "possible" plays from "musts," 16 Kenton influenced play selection, most notably by consistently opposing the production of European plays. Only twice in the history of Provincetown were there such productions. 17 10 /bid., 15. 11 /bid., 37. 12 Unidentified newspaper clipping, dated 27 February 1920, in Provincetown scrapbook, The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. 13 Kenton, "History," 37. 14 Susan Glaspell to Eleanor Fitzgerald, 31 May 1924, The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. 15 1t is unclear precisely when Kenton began to receive a salary for playreading and publicity, but sometime before August 1921. See jig Cook to Susan Glaspell, 27 August 1921, Berg Collection, New York Public Library. 16 Kenton, "History," 37. 17 /bid., 1 55. See also Sarlos, 161. The two plays were Arthur Schnitzler's Last Masks, produced in Spring 1920, and Gustav Wied's Autumn Fires, produced in Spring 1921. Pioneering Theatre Managers 45 During Spring 1922, Kenton successfully controlled play selection. She rejected, despite furious opposition from company members James Light and Charles Ellis, an exotic play called Taboo. She also opposed the suggestion by designer Cleon Throckmorton and Eleanor Fitzgerald to revive The Emperor jones instead of producing Glaspell's Chains of Dew: "I announced, without any counsel, to the public press, that Chains of Dew was going on. We were committed." 18 Publicity and audience development also became primarily Kenton's responsibilities. Throughout their eight-year history, the Provincetown Players developed an audience by regularly distributing seasonal circulars and publishing articles in newspapers and magazines. The circulars generally reiterated the group's aesthetic policies, described their proposed production calendar, and invited audience subscriptions. Cook probably drafted the first of these, but the Players authorized Kenton, along with Lucian Cary, to draft the brochure for their second season. 19 In April1918, Kenton published a newspaper article which provided the most complete record of the group's activities. 20 Like playreading, publicity ultimately became a paid position for Kenton. 21 Another task Kenton assumed was recruiting technical staff, enlisting her sister, Mabel Reber, as a costumer and Mabel's husband, Neil, as stage manager and head of the seen ic department. 22 The degree of Kenton's influence within the company shows most clearly through the events unfolding during its last turbulent seasons. Since Fall 1920, Cook and Glaspell had been spending more and more time in Provincetown, concentrating on their writing projects. 23 They gave their voting proxies (as executive committee members) to Kenton. 18 Edna Kenton to Susan Glaspell, 5 May 1922, The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. 19 See Minutes, 15 March 1917. 2 Kenton, "Unorganized, Amateur, Purely Experimental, " Boston Evening Transcript, 27 April 1918, 2:8-9. 21 Jig Cook to Susan Glaspell, 27 August 1921, Berg Collection, New York Public Library. 22 Mabel joined the company in Fall 1917, Neil in Fall 1918. See Kenton, "History," 66, 109. 23 After Emperor jones closed, Cook completed his full-length play, The Spring, which opened in January 1921 . In the 1921-22 season, the Players presented three full-length works by Glaspell: Inheritors, The Verge, and Chains of Dew. 46 CHERYL BLACK Kenton, who credited Cook and Glaspell with the existence and success of the Provincetown Players, was horrified at the rebellion smoldering among the newer members of the company, apparently fueled by O'Neill's increasing commercial success. 24 Kenton urged Cook to return to New York and restore authority: I do not believe that a "row" is inevitable at all, if you come down .... Nothing in all this matters to me but next year's pol icy and authority .... And let me say again that there need not be trouble over reorganization if we decide just not to have it. 25 Disillusioned by the struggle, and perhaps disappointed by the failure of The Spring to reach a wide audience, 26 Cook decided to announce an interim for the Provincetown Players, for the 1922-23 season. Six individuals (Cook, Glaspell, Kenton, O'Neill, Fitzgerald, Cleon Throckmorton, and attorney Harry Weinberger) 27 met and incorporated as "the Provincetown Players, Inc." Kenton explained that the motive for incorporation was "to hold the name and the idea of the Players" and the motive for secrecy was to keep james Light out. 28 Cook and Glaspell sailed for Greece in February 1922, giving to Kenton their proxies, explaining later that "she, more than any other, had the purity of idea, the integrity. Hers was at times the only voice against a I ien gods. " 29 24 This newer membership included James light, Charles Ellis, Edna and Norma Millay, and Cleon Throckmorton. 25 Edna Kenton to Jig Cook, 8 May 1921, Provincetown Players Archive, Fales Library, New York University. 26 Perhaps Cook thought he could best take Kenton's advice and "restore authority" by duplicating O'Neill's success as a playwright, for in September 1921, he moved his play, The Spring, into a small Broadway theatre for a brief and unheralded run. 27 Eleanor Fitzgerald probably recruited Weinberger; he was an intimate friend and had defended Emma Goldman, Alexander Berkman, and other political radicals. 28 Kenton to Cook and Glaspell, 19 June 1922, in William W. Vilhauer, "A History and Evaluation of the Provincetown Players," Ph.D. diss. (University of Iowa, 1965), 297. 29 Susan Glaspell to Eleanor Fitzgerald, 31 May 1924, Tile Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. Pioneering Theatre Managers 47 According to Kenton, James Light attempted to seize authority as soon as Cook and Glaspell sailed. 3 Kenton, however, was determined "to take Jig's place for the rest of the season." 31 Perhaps because Kenton had Cook's and Glaspell's proxies, perhaps because Light's sudden "leave of absence" in 1921 had weakened his position, 32 Kenton succeeded in thwarting Light's plans. Throughout the 1921-22 season, Kenton worked in every area of management, including play selection, publicity, and contract and royalty negotiations with agents, publishers, and producers. She corresponded steadily with Theodore Dreiser concerning rehearsals of his Hand of the Potter and supervised all aspects of the production of Glaspell 's Chains of Dew, including textual editing, casting, and engaging a director. Kenton, along with business manager Fitzgerald, was authorized to sign company checks. Just as Fitzgerald kept Kenton informed of all financial matters throughout the Players' 1921-22 season and the interim year (1922-23), Kenton, in her turn, kept Cook and Glaspell apprised of all financial, administrative, and legal affairs. 33 In June 1922, Kenton announced to the public the company's plans for the interim. Although Kenton and Fitzgerald shared responsibility for subleasing the Playhouse for the interim, they differed sharply on the desirability of potential lessees, most notably James Light. They finally decided on Alice Kauser, a commercial producer. Although Kenton had hoped for the return of Cook and Glaspell in Fall 1923 and the continuation of the Provincetown Players, she apparently considered their wishes paramount. When Cook and Glaspell cabled their desire "for termination" of the company in June 1923, Kenton accepted the dissolution as final; she devoted the rest of her time with the Players fulfilling their wish " to give the theatre we love good death." 34 3 Kenton to Cook and Glaspell, 5 May 1922, The Harvard Theatre Coll ection, The Houghton Library. 31 Kenton, "History," 205. 32 1.nfatuated with Provincetown playwright Djuna Barnes, he followed her to Paris. 33 See correspondence between Fitzgerald and Kenton, Summer 1922; see also correspondence between Kenton and Cook and Glaspell, Spring and Summer, 1922, The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. 34 See Susan Glaspell, The Road to the Temple (New York: Frederick A. Stokes, 1927), 309-310. 48 CHERYL BLACK Meanwhile, O'Neill had been negotiating with Kenneth Macgowan and Robert Edmond Jones to reorganize the Provincetown Players with "new blood and lots of it" and to abandon completely the Players' methods of operation. 35 In November 1923, Kenton, Fitzgerald, and Weinberger granted Macgowan power as director of the Playhouse for the 1923-24 season. For Kenton, the "good death" of the Provincetown Players required the sharp distinction, in the minds of the public, between the two companies. Such a distinction must, most significantly, include a new name for the new group. Reserving the name Provincetown Players to the older group became a sacred miss ion for both G laspell and Kenton, especially after the death of Cook in January 1924. The zeal with which Kenton discharged this mission parallels the growing resentment against her from Macgowan and O'Neill. O'Nei ll was willing to drop the use of Provincetown Players ("in spirit and intention we had nothing in common with [the old corporation or the old name]") but insisted on retaining the Provincetown Playhouse as the name of the theatre building: "I don't see where sentiment can enter where the name of a building is concerned." O'Neill blamed Kenton for the friction: "if you had been willing last fall to be generous and turn over the theatre without strings to it to the new organization ... there would have been no need for [the conflictJ," 36 During the meeting at which the name Experimental Theatre, Inc., was finally chosen, Macgowan accused Kenton of being "a thorn in his side" and objected to giving her a share in the common stock of the new corporation. 37 Kenton's account of this event suggests that she rather enjoyed the confrontation: "I did my best, Susan, and I had the time of my I ife." 38 Despite Kenton's assurance, the events of this meeting sparked an arigry letter from Glaspell to Fitzgerald in defense of Kenton: Edna stood out for the name Provincetown Players because she wanted to hold something for Jig to return to, if he wanted to 35 See Arthur Gelb and Barbara Gelb, O'Neill (New York: Harper and Row, 1960), 513-14. 36 0'Neill to Kenton, 26 May 1924, The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. 37 Kenton to Glaspell, 28 May 1924, The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. 36 /bid. Pioneering Theatre Managers 49 return .. .. She felt that if he recovered from exhaustion, the deep spiritual exhaustion from working with people who did him dirt at every turn, people with whom you are now hand in glove, that he would want to come back. She was trying to save something for him to come back to. Always she was his friend! Fitzie, and all of you, for this letter is for all of you, from very deep down, I am through. 39 The Provincetown Players had finally, officially, ceased to exist, but Edna Kenton had one more important task to perform, one in which she was not successful. She resolved to write and publish a history of Provincetown Players in which its unique character (distinct from that of The Experimental Theatre, Inc.) would be made clear. Although she published an article on the company's history in 1922, 40 she was unable to find a publisher for her book-length work, completed sometime around 1930. 41 Kenton was never again affiliated with a theatre company. She published a biography of her ancestor, Simon Kenton, in 1930 and a novel in 1933. In 1950, Kenton edited a well-received collection of stories by Henry James. She died in 1954. Excepting Kenton, the individual most responsible for managing the Provincetown Players during those last few difficult seasons was Mary Eleanor Fitzgerald ("Fitzie" to her colleagues). Fitzgerald {1877-1955), a tall, striking redhead of Scotch-Irish descent, grew up in Madison, Wisconsin. The daughter of a farmer, she began working at sixteen, first as a teacher, then as a nurse at the famous Battle Creek sanitorium. For a while, she was quite. successful booking Chatauqua tours, but she resigned after hearing one of the lectures. After meeting anarchists Ben Reitman, Emma Goldman, and Alexander Berkman in Chicago, Fitzgerald became passionately devoted to the anarchist cause. She became Berkman's lover and an intimate friend to 39 Giaspell to Fitzgerald, 31 May 1924, The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. 40 See Kenton, " The Provincetown Players and the Playwright' s Theater" Billboard, 5 August 1922, 6-7, 13-15. 41 Kenton's manuscript, edited by Travis Bogard and Jackson R. Bryer, is scheduled to be published in a 1998 issue of the Eugene O'Neill Review. 50 CHERYL 8 LACK Goldman, who remembered her as " . . . very efficient, but a real friend .. . a beautiful soul." 42 Fitzgerald served as assistant editor for both Blast and Mother Earth, spoke on behalf of labor unions and conscientious objectors, and raised $150,000 for political prisoners. Through her work in amnesty for political prisoners, Fitzgerald met Ida Rauh, who invited her to join the Players. 43 The appearance, in Fall 1918, of an individual sympathetic to radical art and politics, with fundraising and organizational skills, was fortuitous. The Players had lacked such a person since their first secretary, Margaret Nordfeldt, resigned in March 1917. Fitzgerald accepted a part-time, paid position, taking over the bookkeeping, records, box office., and a "few other odds and ends. '' 44 Given her background, it is not surprising that Provincetown's mixture of art and anarchy appealed to Fitzgerald. As she later explained: Then I went with the Provincetown Players full time, feeling that perhaps on a smaller stage (I had been reaching out for the whole wide world)-a few could be made conscious of decency, justice, and truth. 45 Goldman also saw a connection between Fitzgerald's radical political activities and her theatrical aspirations: . .. she attached herself to the theater not merely as a means of livelihood, but because she hoped she could continue advanced ideas by means of the drama and that she could make her life 42 Emma Goldman, Living My Life (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1931 ), 532. See also 518-20. 43 See M. El eanor Fitzgerald, "Valedictory of an Art Theatre, " New York Times, 22 December 1929, 8: 1. Rauh was one of the company's most important members. Fitzgerald may have met other members through her association with Goldman. Goldman's niece, Stella Commins Ballantine, and her husband, E. } . Ballantine, were members. 44 Helen Deutsch and Stella Hanau, The Provincetown: A Story of the Theatre (New York: Farrar & Rinehart, 1931), 81-82. 45 Eieanor Fitzgerald to Erwin Piscator, 1 January 1950, reprinted in "In Memory of Fitzie," compiled by Pauline Turkel, in Margaret Wycherly scrapbook, New York Public Library at Lincoln Center. Pioneering Theatre Managers Eleanor Fitzgerald. (From Papers of Djuna Barnes, Special Collections, University of Maryland at College Park Libraries.) 51 52 CHERYL BLACK count for something, for something that would fill the gap your loss [Berkman' s deportation] had created in her soul. 46 During Fall 1918, Fitzgerald divided her time between the Playhouse and the political prisoners' office. In 1919, after Berkman and Goldman were deported, Fitzgerald accepted a full-time position and a place on the executive committee. Although her official title was Secretary-Treasurer, Fitzgerald was commonly referred to as "Business Manager. " Her duties included fundraising, financing, bookkeeping, answering telephones, selling tickets, negotiating contracts, hiring support personnel, and supervising equipment installation. So extensive were Fitzgerald's responsibi I ities that, by 1921, she had two assistants, both unpaid, who seem to have operated chiefly out of a sense of loyalty to Fitzgerald. 47 just after her arrival in 1918, Fitzgerald, along with Cook, raised $1000.00 in small sums (meeting a challenge for matching funds from philanthropist A. C. Barnes) to finance the remodelling at 133 Macdougal. 48 In 1920, Fitzgerald conducted a fund drive among subscribers to pay a $5000.00 tax bill. Fitzgerald herself once recalled her efforts to keep the company financially afloat: I carried the burden of financing and seeing through that last season of 1921-22 .... I saw that The Hairy Ape was carried through. Edna and I, The Chains of Dew, and I stayed on the job seeing that the bills amounting to about $4500. or more were all paid and the slate clean so far as debts against the organization of the Provincetown Players was concerned. 49 Friends and colleagues attempted to explain Fitzgerald's success at fundraising. e.e cummings reported that "no one to whom she appealed 46 Emma Goldman to Alexander Berkman, 4 September 1925, in Richard and Anna Maria Drinnon, eds., Nowhere at Home: Letters From Exile of Emma Goldman and Alexander Berkman (New York: Schocken Books, 1975), 132. 47 See Susan Jenkins and Pauline Turkel interviews with Louis Sheaffer, 1960 (?), Sheaffer Collection, Shain Library, Connecticut College. 48 in the Fall of 1918, the Players moved from 139 to a slightly larger space at 133 Macdougal, commonly referred to thereafter as the " Provincetown Playhouse." 49 Fitzgerald to G laspell, 1 May 1929, Provincetown Players Archive, Fales Library, New York University. Pioneering Theatre Managers 53 could doubt her good sense or her competence." 50 James Light agreed: "Fitzie made people feel it was a privilege to help the Provincetown Players. " 51 In addition to her multiple official functions, Fitzgerald contributed in an intangible but indispensable manner to the esprit de corps of the company: [Fitzie] seemed miraculously to be everywhere-in the box office, on Macdougal Street with The Spring, at the Princess with The Emperor jones, at the Selwyn with Diff'rent, busy, smiling, capable ... mothering her three casts ... . Fitzi was official ly the secretary of the players but she was really business manager, financier, general factotum and everybody's confidante ... . the Provincetown was Fitzi's foster child. 52 Nilla Cram Cook confirmed Fitzgerald's contribution to company morale: [Fitzgerald] saw everyone's side with equal sympathy ... [she possessed] a delicate courtesy, a warm appreciation of the other person-without which I doubt if a single season of the Provincetown Players could have lasted!! ! 53 Fitzgerald was a particularly trusted confidant of O'Neill , who "told Fitzie all his troubles" 54 and Djuna Barnes, who described Fitzgerald as "an eternal Eliza crossing the ice, and by main strength and gift of a pioneer right arm, has so far kept the baby [the company] from drowning." 55 50 e.e. cummings, in " In Memory of Fitzie. " 51 James Light interview with Louis Sheaffer, 21 May 1960, in Sheaffer Collection, Shain Library, Connecticut College. 52 Deutsch and Hanau, 81-82. 53 Nilla Cram Cook to Robert K. Sarlos, 5 February 1975, Sarlos Collection, University of California Davis. 54 Light interview with Sheaffer, 21 May 1960. 55 Djuna Barnes, "Days of Jig Cook," Theatre Guild Magazine, January 1929, 32, in Papers of Djuna Barnes, Special Collections, University of Maryland at College Park Libraries. 54 CHERYL BLACK Devotion to Fitzgerald, however, was not universal. Notably missing from her band of admirers, particularly during the Players' last two seasons, were Cook, Glaspell , and Kenton. One company member attributes Cook's cooling toward Fitzgerald to her wide-ranging generos- ity: "Jig got sore because [Fitzie] wanted to take care of everybody, not just him." 56 By this time the conflicting factions within the company had emerged, and Fitzgerald's allegiance was in question. As late as August 1 921, Kenton apparently sti II hoped for Fitzgerald' s support, reporting to Cook with satisfaction that "Fitzi is outraged by several with whom she sympathized .. . " Kenton even suggested that Cook and Glaspell go to London with the Emperor ]ones tour, assuring him that "Fitzi and I are in agreement." 57 Relations between Fitzgerald and Kenton deteriorated, however, during the last, most contentious season of 1921-22. During Spring and Summer 1922 Kenton's correspondence with Cook and Glaspell overflowed with allegations of Fitzgerald's incompetence and disloyalty: Fitzie has been a great mistake. She was the business manager and she hasn't the first qualification for the job . . .. her whole spirit is that of pleasing all. .. 58 A significant source of conflict was the rental of the theatre during the interim. When it became clear to Kenton that Fitzgerald intended to remain at the Playhouse during the interim no matter who rented it, it seemed to Kenton the worst kind of betrayal. If James Light (or one of his faction) presented a season at the Provincetown Playhouse, with Fitzgerald as business manager, Kenton believed their efforts would be perceived by the public as the work of the Provincetown Players. For Kenton, who considered Light's career aspirations a violation of Provincetown ideals, that possibility was appalling. Hence the struggle, secrecy, and animosity involved in finding a suitable lessee. When, in fact, Fitzgerald did stay on, helping the Kauser Company with business and promotion and referring to "the Provincetown spirit" in a promotional letter, Kenton was outraged, and Fitzgerald was 56 Light interview with Sheaffer, 21 May 1960. 57 Kenton to Cook, 5 August 1921, The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. 58 Kenton to Cook and Glaspell, 3 May 1922, The Harvard Theatre Collection, The Houghton Library. Pioneering Theatre Managers 55 mystified and hurt by her reaction: "-why should the Provincetown Players not want to give this new group a bit of mutual sympathy?" 59 Cook's resentment toward Fitzgerald, encouraged by Kenton, increased. A drunken telegram ("Fitzie is a goddamn Irish beauty I iar") was followed by a somewhat more coherent letter of rebuke: You subconsciously accepted the superiority to us of financially successful Broadway producers. When the tear- the rip-came, you were on the wrong side . . .. You should have been loyal to me because I was more loyal than others to our purpose. . . . Where was your inner light? 60 What caused the irrevocable rift between Fitzgerald and Kenton was Fitzgerald's failure to distinguish between the original group and the group that eventually organized as The Experimental Theatre, Inc. When Fitzgerald officially joined the new company, Kenton saw her action as betrayal. Fitzgerald was a traitor; the rupture would never be healed. The controversy accompanying both the dissolution of the Provincetown Players and the organization of The Experimental h e a ~ r e drained Fitzgerald: .. . the theater gave her little else but responsibility, worry, everybody's trouble. She spent her time and substance in separating feuds, in explaining everybody's pettiness and jealousies. Until finally she became a nervous wreck. 61 Whatever distress Fitzgerald suffered because of her professional and personal relationships with the Provincetown Players, however, she maintained her position as business manager (eventually "executive 59 Fitzgerald to Kenton, 24 October 1922, Provincetown Players Archive, Fales Library, New York University. 6 Cook to Fitzgerald, n.d., from Greece, 1922-23(?), Berg Collection, New York Public Library. 61 Goldman to Berkman, in Drinnon and Drinnon, 132. 56 CHERYL BLACK director") of the Experimental Theatre at the Provincetown Playhouse unti I 1929. 62 Throughout her tenure, Fitzgerald consistently promoted artistic experimentation and stressed the continuity of purpose and achievement at the Playhouse. She infuriated Glaspell in Spring 1929 by inviting her to contribute "a few lines" to a promotional brochure celebrating the company's "fourteen year existence." 63 With or without Kenton's or Glaspell's endorsement, Fitzgerald refused to relinquish her heritage as a Provincetown Player or her belief in the consistency of her Provincetown career: If I needed any proof of the truth and vitality of what I must call the Provincetown idea, I would find it in the fact that my belief in this kind of theatre, the theatre of opportunity for new talent, is as strong today [in 1929], after the curtain has dropped for the last time 1 as it was when I first joined the group. This was in November 1918. To have seen this spirit, to have lived with it, has been worth all the difficulty, all the obvious sadness at closing the book and writing "finis." 64 Fitzgerald continued her career in theatre management through the 1940s, working for Broadway producer Robert Rockmore, the Theatre Union, the Group Theatre, and the New School for Social Research. She died in Wisconsin in 1955. Both Edna Kenton and Eleanor Fitzgerald were consistently and significantly involved in managing the Provincetown Players. As influential as they were in developing and running this theatre company throughout its history, they were equally influential in determining the time and manner of its dissolution.
62 The first phase of The Experimental Theatre' s existence, under the leadership of O'Neill, Macgowan, and Jones, essentially ended in 1925, when those three moved operations to the Greenwich Village Theatre. The Experimental Theat re continued at 133 Macdougal under the leadership of James Light and Fitzgerald until 1929, when they expanded and moved uptown to the Garrick Theatre under the official and (as Glaspell commented) " architecturally clumsy" heading "The Provincetown Playhouse in the Garrick Theatre"). This venture lasted only one season. 63 See Fitzgerald to Glaspell, 6 April 1929; Glaspell to Kenton, 30 April 1929; Provincetown Players Archive, Fales Library, New York University. 64 F itzgerald, "Valedictory," 1,4. Pioneering Theatre Managers 57 Kenton was instrumental in effecting early policy changes (most notably from the collective ideal to the more practical individualism) and maintaining important artistic goals (amateur experimentation and the production of American, rather than European, drama) . Fitzgerald dominated fundraising and finances and was largely responsible for company morale. Both Fitzgerald and Kenton, lacking any special theatrical gift or experience, relied on skills acquired in other pursuits to create for themselves secure positions within the company. Kenton carved out a niche suitable to her literary talents, pioneering the theatrical practice of literary management. Fitzgerald, employing fundraising and organizing skills acquired in her political work, created not just a position with the Provincetown Players but a career in theatrical management that lasted for more than two decades, making her a pioneer, as a woman, in that field. Although both women gained important positions within the company, they achieved influence in quite different ways and manifested strikingly different managerial styles. Kenton was, from beginning to end, confident, opinionated, outspoken. By the last season Kenton had expanded her influence considerably, even intruding on Fitzgerald's financial responsibilities. Secure in her ability, protective of her authority, and, perhaps, overreach- ing it, Kenton relished power, seeming to enjoy even the conflicts. She was perceived by her allies as constant ("the only voice against alien gods"), by her adversaries as contentious ("a thorn in the side"). Fitzgerald, on the other hand, achieved her influential position through more conventionally "feminine" avenues. For one thing, her responsibilities included many traditionally female (secretarial) tasks. Beyond that, her personality, despite her radical political leanings, seems conventionally "feminine." Company members consistently described her as nurturing and sympathetic and employed maternal metaphors to describe her connection to the company, her "foster child." Although Fitzgerald performed admirably in her position (Kenton is surely somewhat prejudiced in her accusations of inefficiency), she did not seem to assert, or relish, her authority. Confrontations that stimulated Kenton merely confused and dismayed Fitzgerald. The complex relationship between Kenton and Fitzgerald showed a considerable degree of collaboration between these women, not always harmonious. They shared lofty ideals for the theatre, but differed in the nature of those ideals and the methods by which the ideals should be realized. For Fitzgerald, the "Provincetown spirit" was applicable to any theatre that provided opportunities for artistic experimentation (particu- 58 CHERYL BLACK larly for new talent). For Kenton, the Provincetown spirit could exist only within a specific community of like-minded individuals. Integral to this spirit was pure amateurism, a selflessly-motivated desire to enrich, yet remain totally independent of, the commercial theatre. Perhaps most importantly, for Kenton, the Provincetown spirit could not exist without Jig Cook and Susan Glaspell. The ideals of spiritual community and amateurism had, of course, been seriously compromised throughout the group's history, but the degree to which the company could compromise these ideals and still call itself the Provincetown Players was the critical issue. For Fitzgerald, abandoning those ideals represented merely reorganization; for Kenton, it was sacrilege. journal of American Drama and Theatre 9 (Fall 7 99 7) Making the Grave Less Deep: A Descriptive Assessment of Sam Shepard's Revisions to Buried Child jAMES R. STACY After twenty years Sam Shepard has revised his Pulitzer Prize-winning Buried Child. The rewritten version premiered in October 1995 at Chicago's Steppenwolf Theatre under the direction of Gary Sinise. After further revisions the production was transferred in April 1996 to Broadway where it was nominated for a Tony Award as "Best New Play." That production also marked the Broadway debut of Shepard, often cited as one of America' s leading playwrights since his off-off- Broadway days in the 1960s. The revised playscript was published this year by Dramatists Play Service, which will no longer offer its original text for performance. This article will take a descriptive survey of the changes and analyze the effectiveness of revisions in plot, character, language, and imagery. A tantalizing mystery lies at the core of Sam Shepard's Buried Child: a mystery about paternity, parenting, childhood, identity, and murder. In his original version, Shepard provides clues but no definite answers. The core questions remain in the new version: Who was the father of the "buried child"? Who is the "buried child"? Why isn't Vince recognized by his family? Based on the textual clues in the original script, the answer to the first question is that Tilden fathered the "buried child" through an incestuous union with his mother Halie. The most explicit clue comes in Act II when Tilden tells Shelly, "I had a son once but we buried him" (orig. 31 ). 1 Other evidence comes from Dodge's testimony about Tilden's closeness to the baby and to his being "the one who knew. Better than any of us," as Dodge charges (orig. 59). In the final clue at the end of the play, Shepard makes stunning use of visual imagery and a homonym as Tilden walks the infant's muddy corpse up the stairs to its mother, while she muses, "Maybe it's the sun. Maybe that's it. Maybe 1 1n this article, quotations from the original script published by Dramatists Play Service in 1978 are marked " orig."; from the revised script, a 1997 DPS publication, are marked "rev." 60 jAMES R. STACY it's the sun" (orig. 66). The responsible "sun" is Tilden, the son. In his revision of the script Shepard makes the parentage of the "buried child" much more apparent, adding references to Tilden and eliminating lies that formerly pointed elsewhere. The net effect is that the mystery is no longer as enigmatic: the corpse is not buried nearly so deeply. In Act I of the revision Dodge still jabs at Hal ie, "My flesh and blood's buried in the back yard!" But Shepard has added a line to a line to Halie's response: "That's quite enough. You've become confused" (rev. 21 ). What has Dodge become "confused" about? In another addition Tilden provides the answer: "Why'd you tell her it was your flesh and blood? (rev. 22; italics are Shepard's). Tilden is questioning Dodge's claim to ownership of the corpse in the back yard. Even as a grandfather, Dodge would be the "flesh and blood" of the buried child, but Tilden's posture-in light of the child's true paternity-is a defensive one. In Halie' s earlier accusation that Dodge is confused, she too challenges Dodge as to whose child it really was. More additions are made in Act II along the same lines. In response to Vince's claim to being Tilden's son, Dodge says, " Tilden's son Vince," adding, "He had two I guess" (rev. 32; again, the ita! ics are Shepard' s). "Two sons" clearly sets up the possibility that Tilden is the father of both Vince and the buried child (if in fact they are separate people). Also in Act II Vince now asks whether his not being recognized is due to his betrayal of "some secret ancient family taboo" (rev. 40)-which appropriately categorizes the buried child as an incestuous offspring. Shepard also eliminates several lines that contained intentional lies which could misdirect audiences. In Act II when Tilden tells Shelly, "I had a son once but we buried him," Dodge no longer responds with the claim "that happened before you were born. Long before" (orig. 32) . It did not, of course. Also deleted is the lie Tilden tells Shelly, naming Dodge as the father: following his line, "We had a baby," Tilden no longer adds, "He did. Dodge did" (orig. 41 ). He did not, of course. Lies serve to confuse, so Shepard omits them. With these omissions and the new inclusions, the playwright makes plainer what he considered to be "gratuitously mysterious" in the original text. 2 In addition to the clarification of the buried child's parentage, Shepard uses the new text to make several major structural revisions to the plot, to extend or adjust characterizations, and to enhance language, themes, and imagery. 2 Stephanie Coen, "Things at Stake Here: An Interview with the Playwright," American Theatre, September 1996, 28. Making the Grave Less Deep 61 Plot Revisions In the most significant structural adjustment, Shepard delays until Act Ill the revelation that Dodge murdered and buried a baby. The original script has Tilden make that revelation in Act II to Shelly in no uncertain terms: "Dodge killed it ... . Dodge drowned it .. .. He's the only one who knows where it's buried" (orig. 41-42) . In the revision Ti I den reveals only that the baby was "so small that nobody could find it. Just disappeared. We had no service. No hymn" (rev. 47). He clearly implies that the child is dead, and one might surmise a murder but there is no clear statement of the terrible deed as previously. In the revised text Tilden implicates Dodge to the extent that he is "the only one who knows where it is" (rev. 47). No longer is there a direct statement in Act II that the baby was buried. Believing that the child is dead, one might logically assume so. Shepard also retains a simile from the original edition that suggests a burial: "Like a secret buried treasure" (rev. 48). By omitting this horrifying revelation in Act II, Shepard reduces the dramatic impact of the Tilden-Shelly-Dodge scene. No longer does Tilden spew forth a repetitive series of accusations about Dodge's actions; no longer does he reveal anything about Bradley's role in trying to force the truth out of Dodge. Twenty-two sentences, most of which are quite short, were lost in the playwright's editing of Tilden's revelation. Dodge still rises from the couch to silence Tilden, still collapses in a coughing fit, and still falls silent. However, he has been successful in preventing the now less forthcoming Tilden from telling Shelly the full secret. In the opening scene of Act Ill, immediately prior to Halie's return home, Shelly still asks Dodge about the information Tilden revealed to her about a baby, but she is no longer asking for verification of "the truth" (orig. 49). Instead she seeks clarification: "What was Tilden trying to tell me last night?" (rev. 55) . Dodge continues to evade her questions by focusing on the whereabouts of Tilden (who, even as they speak, is in the back yard unearthing the corpse) . When Shelly continues to prod about the family's secret, Dodge works his way to a decision to tell her the unvarnished truth. Shepard has added three sentences to Dodge's decision-making process: "(You'd like to] look the beast right dead in the eye?"; "I wouldn't mind hearing it hit the air after all these years of silence."; "I'd sooner tell it to the four winds" (rev. 65). The playwright has also deleted three of Shelly's lines expressing her newly found reluctance to hear the truth and two of Bradley's lines, one casting aspersions on Dodge's memory and one expressing frustration that Shelly has his wooden leg. Also edited out is Dodge's response, "she's got your leg. (laughs) She's gonna keep your leg too" (orig. 59)-a line that invites audience laughter. With these cuts, 62 JAMES R. STACY Shepard presents Dodge's revelation in a more headlong manner without interruptions from other characters or shifts in mood. The text of the revelation itself remains unchanged with the excep- tion of two minor deletions and the inclusion at the end of the speech of three new sentences: "There was no struggle. No noise. Life just left it" (rev. 67). Shepard also alters Shelly's response near the end of the story; instead of saying, "so you killed him?", she says, "so you ... ?"(rev. 67). Thus, with Shelly's new reticence and the elimination of Tilden's explicit revelation in Act II, it is left to Dodge to actually name and claim his crime: "I killed it" (rev. 67). Accordingly, the impact of the confession is maximized. One might question, however, whether the new coda adds to the impact of the moment. The speech originally ended with a minimum of information: "I killed it. I drowned it. Just like the runt of a litter. Just drowned it" (orig. 59). The three new lines focus on the event itself and seemed designed to characterize the murder as-under the circumstances-nonviolent: no struggle, no noise, life just leaving it. Thus, the act itself may seem slightly less brutal and Dodge, slightly less repugnant. In addition to this change in the revelation of the murder, three other areas of the script have undergone significant structural revision in terms of additions, deletions, and rearrangements: Halie's monologue to Dodge and Tilden as she descends the stairs, Vince and Shelly's entrance scene on the porch, and Vince's decision to get Dodge a bottle. Shepard has shortened Halie's lengthy monologue about Ansel and has included more verbalized responses from Dodge and Tilden. In the original version Halie spoke for two full pages with only Tilden's single response, "Ful lback" (orig. 14), interjected into her ramblings. As revised, Dodge scolds Tilden for this interjection (which has been changed to "Halfback"-none of the men in this family are full or whole): "Don't make a peep. Just let her babble" (rev. 1 7). Dodge himself soon interjects "Bookoos" in response to Halie's revelry about Ansel's potential for earning lot of money, "bookoos" being a reference to Halie's earlier use of the word as related to her racetrack winnings. All of these interjections serve primarily as laugh lines to bring comic relief from Halie's endl ess droning. Three more pointed interjections-all from Tilden-follow in the second half of the monologue. Twice, as his mother waxes on about Ansel's heroic stature, Tilden asks, "Ansel was a hero?" (rev.18). Later when she recalls Ansel's wedding, Tilden interjects, "I don't remember that. I must've been gone somewhere" (rev. 18). While there might be some comic effect in Tilden's new responses, the major result is the undermining of Halie's memories of Ansel and indeed of her grasp on reality. The same schizophrenogenic mother who will soon be holding Making the Grave Less Deep 63 an ear of corn in his face and telling him there is no corn, is now telling him that his deceased brother was a hero. Tilden knows better. There is corn. His brother is no hero. In addition to breaking Halie's monologue up with these interjec- tions, Shepard deletes 179 words from the end of the lengthy speech, omitting the suggestive references to her assessment of Ansel's kiss and her dislike (jealousy?) of his new bride. This cut is the most sizeable of any that Shepard made in his revised text. The deletion removes not only information and innuendo but also a shift in mood which turns Halie introspective, angry, and melancholy. Those notes are lost in the wake of a more streamlined scene. In addition, by making Halie's relationship with Ansel less physically suggestive, Shepard decreases the possibility that audience members will seize upon Ansel as a possible father for the buried child. Heavy editing of 115 words has also tightened the entrance of Vince and Shelly at the top of Act II. The quantity of Shelly's laughing hysterics has been reduced as has her elaboration on the idea that Vince's childhood home looks picture-book perfect. One "Dick and Jane and Spot" is enough; gone are references to Mom, Dad, Junior, Sissy, Tuffy, Toto, Dooda, Bonzo, Mr. Marshall , and his pussycat. Without this indulgence Shelly seems less silly-and perhaps less stoned. Also deleted are two extended exchanges between Vince and Shelly: one a repetition of his insistence that she pull herself together and the other a discussion, undermined by another of Shelly's laughs, of what is "wrong" with Vince in this situation. Nothing significant has been lost in these cuts, and an overindulgent scene has been trimmed to a more manageable size. Shepard not only has given Vince a number of new lines in Act II to insist upon his being recognized, but also has sped up Vince's decision to leave Shelly at the house while he goes out to buy a bottle of whiskey for Dodge and to think. Shepard has cut thirteen lines from pages 35-37 of the original text and transferred several other speeches to new locations. The result is a more linear progression for the scene. Previously Vince says he'll get Dodge a bottle but then reiterates his demand for recognition before going into the kitchen for the money. Now once his frustration over not being recognized reaches its climax in his "Boy! This is amazing" monologue (rev. 40), Vince is ready to go out for a bottle, makes his case to Shelly, gets the money, and leaves. Character Revisions Many changes have also been made to enhance or reshape character- izations. In the original script Father Dewis is first mentioned by Halie in Act I on the pretext of a meeting about a commemoration for Ansel. It is not until Act Ill, after Halie has been away all night and as she returns 64 jAMES R. STACY in a completely different outfit, that Dewis emerges in a context other than professional. Their flirtatious interactions heighten suspicions about the sexual/romantic possibi I ities of the relationship. In his revision Shepard has given Dodge a statement in Act II that clearly identifies Father Dewis for the audience in advance of his appearance with Halie: "Halie is out with her boyfriend. The Right Reverend Dewis. He's not a breeder-man but a man of God" (rev. 32). Thus, the audience is no longer surprised in Act Ill when Dewis and Halie enter arm in arm. The additions that Shepard has made to Dewis' lines serve mainly to highlight a trait already well established in the original version: that Dewis is ineffectual in dealing with what he encounters at Halie's home. Among the new lines that emphasize his helplessness are: " I' ve been so busy with the choir"; "I'm in the quiet part of town"; "I'm completely at a loss." He is at his most helpful when he now has advice to offer Halie on keeping her roses fresh: "A little sugar sometimes helps" (rev. 62). His exit I ines have been revised to eliminate the possibly comic "I just came in for some tea" and to include a more extensive attempt to make sense of the violence and devastation he has just witnessed: "I'm quite out of my depths. I'll be the first to admit it. I thought, by now, the Lord would have given me some sign, some guidepost, but I haven't seen it. No sign at all . Just-" (rev. 72) . The minister-the pastoral father-is helpless to the end. While Shepard's revisions on Dewis extend what was previously there, the playwright intensifies Bradley's weakness to the point of total emasculation. The Act I additions show a loss of power. After falling down as he enters by the porch door, Bradley now says, "Always some obstacle!" (rev. 26)-a seemingly unnecessary verbalization of what the fall itself conveys and what the actor can establish in subtext. Next, the authoritative "What in the hell is this?" (orig. 22) has been replaced by: "Corn. (Pause.) Harvest' s over, Pops" (orig. 26)-a more flip, more contemporary Bradley rather than the one whom we have been led to expect, the one who "doesn't like to see the house in disarray" (rev. 20). In Act II Bradley loses two heartless lines about drowning Dodge, presumably because Tilden no longer refers earlier in the act to Dodge's drowning of the baby. Shepard has added a line for Bradley that seems to spring not from any characterization but from the playwright's further development of a motif: the lack of wholeness of the men in the family. Bradley now refers to the collapsed Dodge, "When he was a whole man. Full of himself" (rev. 49). So now Dodge is identified as not whole, just as Bradley, with his one leg, was clearly identified by Halie as not being a whole man in Act Ill. Even Tilden, in Shepard's revision, has become a halfback rather than a fullback in his childhood memory. Making the Grave Less Deep 65 In the new Act Ill Bradley suffers the most significant line losses, thus diminishing his personal power, including: " ... I'm the only one in the family who remembers ... And I' ll never tell you!"; "If I had my leg you wouldn't be saying this. You'd never get away with it if I had my leg"; "If I had my leg I'd rectify it! I'd rectify him all over the goddamn highway! I'd pull his ears out if I could reach him!" Also deleted is the stage direction which has Bradley sticking his fist through the screen porch in an attempt to get at the bottle-wielding Vince. Vince is to be the conqueror; it will be he not Bradley who makes the first penetration. Instead of lines and actions of frustrated assertiveness and violence, Bradley is given more lines about Shelly: "she's lying through her teeth"; "she's a devil, Mom"; "she's not my type"; "she's trying to torture me." The net effect is an emasculation which leaves Bradley as a whiny, unwanted mama's boy. His only power is over the stranded Shelly and the easy-to-spook Tilden. The character of Tilden, in the revision, is given a more definite past in New Mexico with Vince naming his father's town, Bernalillo, and Shelly identifying his home as a trailer. As revised, Tilden himself has gained twice as many words as he has lost, with the most losses coming from the heavily edited revelation scene. The additions serve to make him a more aware, more articulate person. For example, he no longer arrives at a dead end in his "It's a mystery to me" speech: "And I saw this stand of corn. In fact I was standing in it. So, I was standing in it" (orig. 1 7). Instead of the repetitive last sentence, Shepard substitutes "surrounded. It was over my head" (rev. 20). Likewise, when Dodge asks him in Act I, "What's there to figure out?," his response is not the one sentence "I don' t know" but eleven sentences full of memories, observations, and images-all leading to his return (rev. 23). The additions in Act II also show a more alert Tilden. In response to Vince's question about Hal ie's whereabouts, he adds after "she left": "Church or something. It's always church. God or jesus, or both" (rev. 36). Similarly when a frantically frustrated Vince leaves in Act II, Tilden stops him with the question, "You drove all the way from New Mexico?" (orig. 38). It is a pitifully funny, disturbingly cryptic communique in the circumstances. As revised, Tilden now asks the same question but adds a three-sentence reflection on his own driving across that "long, lonely stretch of road" (rev. 43) . One might question whether a more articulate Tilden is consistent with Shepard's own stage directions that "something about him is profoundly burned out and displaced" (rev. 13). Perhaps the dead ends, the repetitions, and the crypt ic fragments are more consistent with other actions and lines in Tilden's role. One might raise this concern in particular about an addition to the Shelly-Tilden bonding scene in Act 66 jAMES R. STACY 11-an addition that seems to spring more from Shepard's own special mythology than from Tilden's experience with driving: I would drive through it and I would stop and I would look around and I would see things sometimes. I would see things I wasn't supposed to see. Like deer. Hawks. Owls. I would look them in the eye and they would look back and I could tell I wasn't supposed to be there by the way they looked at me. So I'd drive on (rev. 46). Perhaps imagistically Shepard is trying to link this memory to an added line he has given Dodge about "looking the beast right dead in the eye" when he tells the truth about murdering the baby (rev. 65). But how does that relate to an experience Tilden had while driving in the desert? The new lines suggest that man is out of sync with nature, yet with the return of Vince, man victorious, comes the full abundance of nature in the form of bumper crops. No such character inconsistencies are evident in the revisions made for Shelly; rather, they add I ittle to the characterization but serve other ends. Six of her new lines serve to bolster Vince's increased insistence that this is his home and that Tilden is his father. By giving Shelly and Vince more lines expressing confusion over his not being recognized, Shepard is trying to make the situation more rea.listic and more certain. No longer does Shelly simply ask, "You're Vince's father, right?" She adds as well, "His real father. I'm just asking" (rev. 37), thus making a more concerted effort. After Vince's departure she now clearly sides with Vince when she tells Tilden and Dodge, "I mean it's not really possible, is it, that he's not related to you at all? ... He seems so sure about it" (rev. 44). Even definite support for Vince comes from Shelly at the top of Act Ill when she now reassures Dodge that Vince will return: "This is where he's from. He knows that. He's convinced. And so am I" (rev. 52). Shepard has also added one factual detail to Shelly's vita: she is a vegetarian. As such, she can reassure Tilden that she does indeed like carrots. Her announcement of being a vegetarian also sets up a new laugh tine for Dodge: "Hitler was a vegetarian" (rev.37). Being a vegetarian also sets Shelly at odds with Dodge who knows that the world is not only carnivorous but cannibalistic: "You never seen a bitch eat her puppies" (rev. 55). Echoing the same cold perspective is a newly added line for Dodge who warns against " laying down for a while" because "They'll eat you alive"-in addition to stealing your bottle, cutting your hair, and murdering your children (rev. 37-38). Making the Grave less Deep 67 The playwright has made a major substitution for Shelly in her speech after breaking a cup and saucer to get Halie's attention. She no longer justifies her action by saying she has never li ked to be ignored. Instead she says, " I am here! I am standing right in front of you. I am breathing. I am speaking. I am alive! I exist. 00 YOU SEE ME?" (rev. 62) . Her rationale for receiving attention is less concerned with individual psychology (not liking to be ignored) than with a central theme of the play: recognition of the I iving in their current, immediate form. Other revisions for Shelly also seem to stem more from a need to reiterate themes, motifs, and images rather than to illuminate character. For example, Shelly now gives her "scout's honor" to Vince that she' ll control her laughter (rev. 29) . Being a Scout seems to be more a piece of Shepard's Americana mosaic (along with Norman Rockwell, Dick and Jane, apple pies and turkey dinners) than of Shelly's personal experience. Similarly, Shelly no longer departs with a simple, personal , "Bye Vince." She now adds, " I can' t hang around for this. I'm not even related" (rev. 72). In so doing, she, like the other outsider, Father Dewis, seems to be distancing herself from this particular family. While the inclusion of the two new lines does stir thematic reflection, it lacks the economy and the dramatic impact of "Bye Vince." Three additions in Act Ill are problematic in various ways. At the opening of the act, Shelly reassures Dodge of Vince's return: "He'll be back." Now she adds, "He always comes back" (rev. 51). If this is meant to be a fact about their personal relationship, one wonders under what conditions has Vince left her overnight in the past. Perhaps again we find the playwright using the character for thematic purposes to suggest that inevitably the son returns to claim his birthright. A seemingly unneces- sary addition comes on the next page when Shelly, rather than simply saying she was "just scared the night before," now states, " It was your son, Bradley. He scared me" (rev. 53) . Certainly that should be evident in light of Bradley' s actions at the end of Act II; certainly any capable actress can play the subtext without needing to state the name. A thi rd Ad Ill addition also seems unnecessary. Now after scolding Bradley w ith "You stuck your hand in my mouth and you call me a prostitute!", she adds, "What kind of weird fucked-up yo-yo are you?" (rev. 62). The diction is awkward; the effect, jarring; the humor, muddied; the purpose, unclear. As with Shelly, Halie undergoes no real change or even sharpeni ng of character as a result of the revisions-other than the i mpact of losing 179 words of suggestive musing on the newlywed Ansel. Many of the additions to her lines seem to be actual or synonymous repetitions of already existing lines. Two added lines show anew how protective she is of Tilden: "We don't want to lose him" (rev. 22) and " He wanders. 68 jAMES R. STACY You know how he wanders" (rev. 62). Her dislike for Bradley is more pronounced in several additions, including the barbed "Especially when one's own shortcomings are so apparent" (rev. 59). She calls Bradley's behavior shameful and complains of his whining. Shepard makes two adjustments to Halie's lines in which the revisions are the exact opposite of the originals. Instead of saying, "It's no wonder people turn to Christ," Halie now says, "It's no wonder people have turned their back on jesus" (rev. 13). In response to Dodge's cynical comments, the revision seems more appropriate. Halie's next line undergoes a similar reversal: "It's no wonder the messengers of God' s word are shouted down in public places" becomes" .. . shouting louder now than ever before" (rev. 13). While suffering the largest block of cut lines, Halie is also given some of the least significant additions. Many of Dodge's newly added lines are sarcastic barbs which invite laughs: "You betcha a breeder man"; "scream. Men don't scream"; "Just let her babble"; "Crazy. Crazy, crazy, crazy"; "Like chalk and cheese"-among others. Buried Child has always been a play that, when properly directed, has a great deal of character comedy, with Dodge always drawing the majority of the laughs. The revisions by Shepard (and as directed by Gary Sinese and played by James Gannon in the Steppenwolf production) significantly increase the comic impact, making it less likely that a misguided director will darken the play too much. However, one might question what impact the increased comedy has on the audience's perception of Dodge once the truth comes out. Does the loveability of that irascible old curmudgeon who has made us laugh so often mitigate the guilt he must own for a horrifying act, regardless of the circumstances of the child's birth? Some of the lines added for Dodge show his flair for colorful word choices: "The boondocks" (characterizing the location of their farm); "for a little soiree" (in guessing Halie's purpose for going out in the rain); "she's absconded" (also of Hal ie); and "she's a pistol, isn't she?" (of Shelly). A number of the additions also further establish his propensity for using cliches (perhaps to root him in the linguistic soil of midwestern Americana): "a red cent to his name," "a smart cookie," "ready to jump ship," "running off at the mouth," "fair and square," "sure as shooting." Particularly with the revisions to Dodge, Shepard has made some decisions that seem to alter the quality of the language. For example, in the original version, the opening dialogue between Dodge on the sofa and Halie offstage upstairs had a Pinteresque quality filled with repeti- tions, with Dodge answering "No" to a question and having to repeat the same "No" louder because Halie could not hear him. The same repetitive pattern occurred with both "They don't race on Sundays" and "All right" (stated three times in a row) . As revised none of these direct Making the Grave Less Deep 69 repetitions are retained. To Dodge's second "No" is added the redun- dant "I'm not watching baseball" (rev. 8). "They don'race here on Sundays" is now his first response to Halie, followed by the same line without the here. The second "All right" is now followed by the redundant "I'll ask Tilden" and the third is eliminated altogether and replaced with a laugh line, "scream? Men don't scream" (rev. 11). With the additions to Dodge's speeches, as with those of the other characters, the speech rhythms of the original often seem to be broken. In addition, one might question the linguistic value of some of the substituted words or phrases Shepard has given Dodge. For example, Dodge no longer suggests to Shelly that she give him "a little massage," but rather "a little backrub" (rev. 52). Massage is a more suggestive word choice and a more musical word for an actor to play with. In addition, backrub simply does not match with the adjective little as well as massage does. As another example of less effective substitutions, Shepard no longer has Dodge scold Halie for making Tilden cry when she confronts him about the corn: "Why'd you have to go and tell him that?" (orig. 17). That line is a simple, strong challenge. Now, instead, Dodge says, "Why'd you have to go and threaten him with expulsion?" (rev. 20) Again the rhythm is clumsy. The new line seems inappropriate for the character of Dodge responding immediately in the moment. It sounds more like a distanced, omniscient third party speaking-perhaps the playwright. One of the most highly acclaimed passages in the play, Dodge's "will" speech in Act Ill, has undergone significant editing at a great sacrifice to the power of its poetry. No longer included in the will are: the shed and gasoline powered equipment (tractor, dozer, hand tiller plus attachments and riggings-namely spring tooth harrow, deep plows, disk plows, automatic fertilizing equipment, reapers, swathe, seeder, John Deere Harvester), post hole digger, jackhammer, lathe, hinges, cattle gates, barbed wire, self-tapping augers, and horse hair ropes. Twenty three items have been deleted while twenty-eight remain, thus maintain- ing some of the poetry but losing in particular the implements that tilled the earth and harvested the crops-the very images that dominate Buried Child. On the positive side, the elimination does streamline the scene and reduce the amount of time that Vince and Bradley play chase with the artificial leg. It also seems that with a funnier characterization of Dodge, audiences would expect more of the same in Act Ill and thereby find humor in Dodge's legalistic word choices and in the excessive details of his I ist. A shorter wi II sti II allows some humor, but an overall darker tone seems more consistent with Dodge's elegiac wish for cremation. 70 JAMES R. STACY In the interview in American Theatre, Shepard acknowledges that his earlier version gave greater focus to Dodge because Dodge was "a lot more fun" than Vince. The playwright says that the major accomplish- . ment for him in his revision was deeper exploration and better under- standing of Vince, thus making his predicament "clearer in retrospect." 3 While Vince's line load has certainly increased, so has Dodge's. Shepard gives Dodge over 500 new words of dialogue and removes some 250 (a fifth of them in the will); Vince gets 761 new words and loses nearly 300. It should also be noted that a lot of Dodge's new lines serve to increase the fun of the character, thereby increasing audience appeal. If Shepard had wanted to significantly shift focus to Vince, perhaps he could have done less to enhance and enlarge Dodge's role. Additionally, in analyzing Vince's new lines, it should be noted that many of them are variations of lines in the original Buried Child, most of which in some way demand an answer to the questions: "Why don't you recognize me? What's the problem here?" These are perfectly valid questions for Vince to be obsessed with. If one is to believe Vince at the top of Act II when neither his grandfather nor his father recognize him, one must believe that the character is flabbergasted at not being recognized. While the original Vince was insistent about his identity, he had a number of short responses and many long periods of silence. Now by increasing his line load, Shepard makes him persistent and adamant. Among Vince's new lines are: "You've got to remember me"; "Of course he knows who I am. . . . I don't know what's happened here, but-"; "Grandpa, look-look at me for a second. Try to remember my face"; "I can't believe you don't recognize me. I just can't believe it. It wasn't that long ago"; "He is my grandpa! .... He always will be my grandpa." All these new lines come prior to Tilden's entrance in Act II. After Tilden enters, Vince is given thirteen additional new lines express- ing variations of these same concerns. One new tactic that Shepard uses to establish for the audience the validity of Vince's claim is the inclusion of a memory about a big family reunion and dinner. He recalled that Dodge and Bradley were making fun of Tilden's fastball-names and activities that clearly link Vince to this family. When Shelly suggests that they are at the wrong address, Vince still says he recognizes the yard then adds: "The porch. The elm tree. The house. I was standing right here in this house. Right in this very spot" (rev. 34). Details are also added to the childhood tricks Vince tries to recreate to jar Tilden's and Dodge's memories. After bending his thumb behind his knuckles, Vince reminds Dodge that he had warned his 3 Coen, 28. Making the Grave Less Deep 71 grandson, "one day it would get stuck like this and I' d never be able to throw a baseball" (rev. 39)-again the use of baseball lends support to Vince's claim. After "playing piano on his teeth," he reminds Tilden of the names of two specific songs that he once played. Vince reiterates his reiterations: "It's the same old me. Same old dependable me. Never change. Never alter one iota" (rev. 40). As revised, Vince demonstrates even more annoyance toward Shelly as she copes with Dodge and Tilden. Five times Shepard has added "Shelly!" as a line of rebuke, particularly in response to her involvement with Tilden in peeling carrots. The repeated "Shelly!" serves to heighten his frustration at her not dealing with the situation as he wishes: "The carrots aren't going to help. The carrots have nothing to do with the situation here" (rev. 38). The failure of his relentless pursuit for recogni- tion from Tilden and Dodge and for cooperation from Shelly again leads to his "Boy! This is amazing!" monologue, but gone are his references to a time warp, to an unpardonable offense, to not being married or divorced, and even to plunging "into sinful infatuation with the Alto Saxophone" (that cut must have been painful for Shepard since the saxophone is part of his iconology). Instead Vince speculates on having been banished, on "betray[ing] some secret ancient family taboo, way back when" (rev. 40). Several deletions of exchanges between Vince and Shelly at this point in the action result in a more straightforward decision on Vince's part to leave. Also deleted is Vince's final exchange seeking reassurance from Shelly that she'll be all right while he is away. His need to get out of the house pushes his concern for her aside. As he exits, rather than a simple stare and shake of his head, Vince now responds verbally: " ... while I'm gone, try to remember who I am. Try real hard to remember. Use your imagination. It might suddenly come back to you. In a flash" (rev. 43). The question remains whether the increased quantity of Vince's lines clarifies that characterization in any significant way-or does it present the actor playing Vince with the challenge of finding fifty different ways to play the same intention? The new lines Shepard provides for Vince in Act Ill are more clearly focused on thematic concerns of the play and less on Vince's being wildly imaginative in his terrorization of the family. Deletions include: "I'm the Midnight Strangler!"; "Maybe I should come in there and break them!"; "Our lines have been penetrated!"; "such a sweet young thing too"; and "Off limits! Verboten!" The additions include more of Vince's pretending not to recognize his grandparents: "Who's speaking? Whose voice is that?" (rev. 68). When Dodge responds that it is his grandfather, Vince plays with the concept: "Grandfather? You mean the father of my father? The son of my great-grandfather? That one? When did this start?" (rev. 68). Vince also unknowingly strikes directly at his family's 72 jAMES R. STACY secret crime in his response to Halie's suggesting that she thought he was a murderer when he broke through the door: "A murderer is a living breathing person who takes the life and breath away from another living breathing person. That's a murderer. You've got me mixed up with someone else" (rev. 68). The real murderer, Dodge, is only a few yards away. In addition to his revisions in plot and character, Shepard also has made additions and substitutions that affect the language and imagery of the play. The main result of these revisions is a repetition of language already in the play and a reiteration of imagery already explored: "flesh and blood," standing, breathing, smells, independence, identity, outsiders, and burial. He also creates an interesting "echo" effect by having characters now repeat words and phrases used by other characters elsewhere in the play. Final Assessment If a real work of art is supposed to be greater than the sum of its parts, have the revisions to Buried Child increased its sum? The answer is no. Indeed, it could be argued that the sum is now less, mainly because Shepard's new clarifications have thrown light onto the question of the paternity of the "buried child" when the question may have been richer in the shadows of ambiguity. The new text does offer several revisions that one may appreciate: the editing of Halie's long monologue and of Vince and Shelly's entrance on the porch, the more tightly focused Vince in Act II, and (for some) the delay in releasing the fact of the infanticide and burial until Act Ill as the climax of Dodge's confession. While these revisions may have resulted in some additional clarity, many will miss the material that has been edited. The many revisions in characterization have little significant impact, with only Vince coming out ahead, but not by much. Bradley in particular suffers in the revised text, becoming less of a menace and more of a flip whiner. Tilden does not need to be more aware and articulate, nor does Dodge need to be funnier. The changes given to Halie and Shelly seem less related to these characters than to the playwright's themes. Other revisions in language and imagery often enrich the play's themes, but these themes were already rich to begin with. In the final analysis, the revisions do not have any significant impact on what has always made Buried Child work so well. If the corpse is not buried as deeply, it is sti II buried and its incestuous origins and terrifying murder remain the dramatic truths of the play. journal of American Drama and Theatre 9 (Fall 199 7) Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 1 RICHARD DELLAMORA Introduction At the time of the Republican sweep of the 1994 Congressional elections, Newt Gingrich, the new Speaker of the House of Representa- tives, claimed that the "American people are clearly fed up with what they see as the decay of American society." 2 Gingrich blamed what he perceived to be the decline of the preceding thirty years on "left wing elitists" and "counterculture McGovernicks." In his AIDS memoir, Close to the Knives (1991), David Wojnarowicz exclaims: "WHEN I WAS TOLD THAT I'D CONTRACTED THIS VIRUS IT DIDN'T TAKE ME LONG TO REALIZE THAT I'D CONTRACTED A DISEASED SOCIETY AS WELL." 3 Despite the opposed political stances of these two men, both comments rely on a metaphor of morbidity in the body politic that is a commonplace of political philosophy. Edmund Burke, for example, remarks: Our political system is ... a permanent body composed of transitory parts; wherein, by the disposition of a stupendous 1 This paper is dedicated to Frank Weatherford, who has wrestled with the angel. An earli er version of this essay was presented as part of a panel, The Postmodern Apocalypse: The Millennium in Walter Benjamin and Tony Kushner, organized by Daniel Boyarin for the annual meeting of the Modern Language Association in Chicago, 28 December 1996. I would like to thank Professor Lori Clark for her help in developi ng this essay and to Trent University for the award of a Faculty Research Fellowship in 1994-1995, which gave me time to write. I am especially grateful in view of the fact that, for budgetary reasons, the Fellowship program has subsequently been canceled. 2 Maureen Dowd, " G. 0 . P.'s Ri si ng Star Pledges to Right Wrongs of the Left," New York Times, 10 November 1994, B3. 3 David Wojnarowicz, Cl ose to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration (New York: Vintage Books, 1991), 114. 74 RICHARD DELLAMORA wisdom, moulding together the great mysterious incorporation of the human race, the whole, at one time, is never old, or middle-aged, or young, but in a condition of unchangeable constancy, moves on through the varied tenor of perpetual decay, fall , renovation, and progression. 4 In this sub I imating presentation, decay does not imply decadence since, within the limits of constitutional monarchy and an established Protestant religion, it occurs within an organic entity whose overall equilibrium remains intact. The analogy of "incorporation" upon which Burke relies refers to plant life. 5 But when he turns to the political order of post-revolutionary France, the bodily metaphor becomes that of a diseased female prostitute: All other people have laid the foundations of civil freedom in severer manners, and a system of a more austere and masculine morality. France, when she let loose the reins of regal authority, doubled the license of a ferocious dissoluteness in manners, and of an insolent irreligion in opinions and practices; and has extended through all ranks of life, as if she were communicating some privilege, or laying open some secluded benefit, all the unhappy corruptions that usually were the disease of wealth and power. 6 At this point, Burke's vision may be described as at once decadent and apocalyptic. The novelty of conditions in France destroy the country's living connection with its past. Forfeiting Christian belief as well, France becomes subject to Divine wrath. As in the Revelation of St. john, revolutionary I iberty represents the prophesied advent of the Whore of Babylon. 7 As spectres of cultural memory and conscious figurations of right-wing polemic, these tropes continue to haunt the representation of 4 Edmund Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France (Buffalo: Prometheus Books, 1987), 38. 5 Burke, 35. 6 Burke, 42. 7 Mary Wilson Carpenter, "Representing Apocalypse: Sexual Politics and the Violence of Revelation," Postmodern Apocalypse: Theory and Cultural Practice at the End, New Cultural Studies Series (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995),116-119. Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 75 gay men such as Wojnarowicz who are infected with the HIV virus. They are made thereby into figures of the onset of the complete dissolu- tion of secular and rei igious order. Somewhat paradoxically, the trope of decadence belongs yet more explicitly to classical republican political theory and its liberal democratic descendants. Burke was a conservative Whig, who defended the existing British constitution. Like him, republican theorists such as N iccolo Machiavelli, Jean Sismondi, and James Madison customarily rely on the analogy of the "social body" to refer to civil society. 8 But while the constitution and preservation of this body are their objects, their attention more often focuses on the infections that threaten it. In this essay, I focus on two issues within republican theory-namely, the threat of i nfection posed by male effeminacy and the threat posed by fact ional politics-as both are restaged in Tony Kushner's Angels in America. Kushner's play participates in while attempting to redirect current debates. 9 There is a long tradition within Anglo-American political theory of formulating major issues within aesthetic contexts-from which they then migrate to specifically political ones. 10 In the Reflections, Burke uses theatrical metaphors to speak about events in France; 11 but he doesn't stop there. He also suggests that his readE;!rs should attempt to imagine the Revolution as though it were an Aristotelian tragedy. Why? because, according to Burke, a theatrical representation of pol it ical scenes can communicate moral truths with an intuitive directness missing from reports in the press. 12 8 John Charles Leonard de Sismondi, Italian Republics: or the Origin, Progress, and Fall of Italian Freedom, a new edi tion (Paris: A. and W. Galignani and Co., 1841), 3. J. G. A. Pocock establishes the context within this tradi tion of political theory in the United States of the Federal period; see The Machiavellian Moment: Florentine Political Thought and the Atlantic Republican Tradition (Pri nceton: Princeton University Press, 1975), 462-552 . 9 1n addition to the immediate contexts in current cul tural politics, Kushner is familiar with these terms and with the theorists whom I mention, especially Freud and Marx, as a result of his experience while an undergraduate at Columbia University (Arthur Lubow, "Tony Kushner's Paradise Lost, " New Yorker 30 November 1992, 61). 10 This is the topic, for example, of joseph Childers's study, Novel Possibilities: Fict ion and the Formation of Early Victorian Culture (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995). 11 Burke, 14. 12 B urke, 85-86. 76 RICHARD DELLAMORA Many of those who have seen Angels in America in the theatre have responded with a sense of spontaneous conviction to Kushner's defense of claims by gay men and women to equal rights under the law. Yet working within the theatre also exposes Kushner to critici sm since, within rep ubi ican theory, aesthetic practice traditionally has been regarded as a cause and effect of decadence. For example, Jean-Jacques Rousseau argues that primitive manners were corrupted by the invention of song and dance. 13 Michael Warner points out that, in a classic essay from the early years of the Ameri can republic, Fisher Ames argued that the development of artistic genius will be one effect of the decline of the republic into a two-class society: "After some ages we shall have many poor and a few rich, many grossly ignorant, a considerable number learned, and a few eminently learned. Nature, never prodigal of her gifts, will produce some men of genius, who will be admi red and imitated." 14 As an artist working in the theatre, Kushner opens himself to similar criticism-as he does by emphasizing the Jewish identity that he shares with Roy Cohn, the villain of the piece, and the gay identity that he shares with Prior Walter. 15 For Ames, the emergence of artistic genius signifies a deadening "luxury." 16 In debates over the definition of citizenship and the republic, the effeminatus or devirilized man is an especially charged figure. For Machiavelli and Rousseau, he signifies the " luxury" and "corruption" that threaten the very existence of the Republic. 17 Often this figure is mobilized within a trope of political sodomy, the exchange of favors, usually between an older and a younger man, in political or other 13 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Discourse on the Origin of Inequality (1755), in Basic Political Writings (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1987), 64. 14 Michael Warner, The Letters of the Republic: Publication and the Public Sphere in Eighteenth-Century America (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1990), 147, 148. 15 1n his childhood, Kushner was "mesmerized" by the "venal l ittle monster by . . . [Senator M cCarthy's] side, a Jew and a queer." Lubow says, "Writing the character of Cohn offered Kushner what he calls 'a mal iciously exuberant expression of my own dark side. I think I have a great deal of self-hatred, a profound feeling of fraudulence, of being detestable and evil. It' s only part of me, but it's there, and i t's act ive" (60). 16 Warner, 147. 17 Linda Dowling, Hellenism and Homosexuality in Victorian Oxford (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994), 8. Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 77 privileged circles. 18 Sodomy in this context may be metaphorical; but it can also be literal. 19 In contrast to the effeminatus, classic republ ican theory poses the figure of the citizen-warrior, upon whose virtue the welfare of the republic depends. As both Machiavelli and Friedrich Nietzsche note, however, this antithesis is problematic since, as Machiavelli argues, republics tend to become expansive military states or empires, a tendency that, in turn, renders them subject to dissolution as a result of internal faction. For his part, Nietzsche argues that masculine strength, contrary to theory, produces not progress but stasis-ultimately, death-the end, both decadent and apocalyptic, that Prior Walter refuses in Angels in America. Republican Effeminacy Kushner turns the rhetoric of effeminate degeneracy against men such as President Ronald Reagan and, in particular, Roy Cohn, the play's negati ve protagonist. 2 Chief Counsel of the Senate Investigating Committee of Senator Joseph McCarthy during the 1950s, Cohn became a powerful political insider in New York City and Washington until his death in August 1986 . .In classic republican discourse, the devirilized man or effeminatus has a special place as signifier within a corrupt political system. The use of this type today, in order to target men who fall short of an imaginary standard of masculine adequacy, has implica- tions that are particularly negative for gay men, even more so those with HIV-infection. Kushner inverts the customary allegation of effeminacy made against them by suggesting that it is political wheelers and dealers who are, soi disant, the real effeminates. Adapting the reversal of gender that characterizes Nietzsche's philosophy of decadence, Kushner reverses decadent stereotypes. With the Spartan military man in mind, Nietzsche 18 Cf. Lee Edelman, Homographesis: Essa ys in Cay Literary and Cultural Theory (New York: Routledge, 1994), 129-137. 19 See, for example, Linda Dowling, Helleni sm and Homosexuality in Victorian Oxford (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994), 9n. See also Jonathan Goldberg, Sodometries: Renaissance Texts, Modern Sexualities (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1992), chapter 4; and Rousseau, 64-65. 20 Jonathan Freedman, in a compelling study, has demonstrated the extent to which Kushner's representation of Cohn draws on tradit ional stereotypes of Jewish conspiracy and power. However, in emphasizing Kushner' s ambivalence about Jewish identity, Freedman overl ooks the significance of Cohn as a fi gure of R/republican decline. ("Monsters, Angels, and Jews," panel, The Postmodern Apocalypse: The Millennium in Walter Benjamin and Tony Kushner, annual meeting, Modern Language Association, Chicago, December 28, 1996.) 78 RICHARD DELLAMORA argues that the virtues of the strong man, far from enabling progress, lead to inertia and, eventually, death. He contends that it is the existence of weak and hysterical personality types that makes possible the forward movement of the human race. Effeminacy, then, though it denotes decadence within republican theory, in Nietzsche's fin de siecle view is necessary to human regeneration. Within classical republican discourse, the representation of male sodomy figures the general corruption of the commonwealth by politicians. 21 A sodomite may be a giver or receiver in anal intercourse; alternatively, a sodomite may give or receive political favors. The significations are reversible. Opposed to this term in republican theory is that of "the virtus or virility" of the male citizenY Kushner operates within this tradition in making Cohn one of the two leading figures in the play. 23 Political sodomy is a tautology for Cohn although his words are different, describing the exchange of benefits in a mentor-protege relationship as the practice of "loyalty." In Cohn's autobiography, "disloyalty" is the leading term of abuse. Interestingly, these are the same two words that he and McCarthy used to intimidate those under investigation. Witnesses were compelled to submit to loyalty oaths and, at times, to disavow the "disloyalty" with which they had formerly worked on behalf of the anti-Franco forces in Spain, blue-collar workers, the unemployed, or African Americans at home. 21 Dowling, xv, 9n. 22 Dowling, xv. 23 At least for this viewer, Ron Leibman's performance in the New York production drives the action of Millennium Approaches as much as Richard Ill's in Shakespeare' s play. Leibman next appeared on the New York stage as Shylock in The Merchant of Venice at the Public Theatre early in 1995. Brent Carver, the Canadian actor who received a Tony award in 1993 for his role as Molina, the homosexual window-dresser in the U.S.-Canadian production of Kiss of the Spider Woman, followed up with appearances as Cyrano de Bergerac and Richard Ill in productions at the Citadel Theatre in Edmonton, Alberta. Ross Posnock's unconvincing proposal that Kushner's Cohn should be regarded as an exemplar of "postmodern heroism" ignores the obvious linkage between Kushner's play and classic villains in Shakespeare (Ross Posnock, "Roy Cohn in America, " Raritan, 13 [Winter 1994]: 77). As the connection suggests, monstrosity such as Cohn's, far from being novel , is the opposite face of the humanist coin. Posnock also ignores the fact that Cohn's machinations are politics as usual-writ large. (For the latter view see "King Cohn, " unsigned editorial, The Nation, 5/12 July 1986, 4-5; and William A. Reuben and Alexander Cockburn, "Why Roy Cohn Was Disbarred," The Nation, 19/26 July 1986, 33, 48-51) . Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 79 In the context of the autobiography, the disloyalty of those under investigation exists in having disavowed Cohn's identification of governance with a system of personal favors. In choosing Cohn as a subject, Kushner makes the disturbing but necessary acknowledgment of the place of male-male desire within an oligarchic order. For Cohn, it is the ability to represent the exercise of power-in dramaturgical terms, by means of the "very elaborate phone system" (MA, 11) of scene two-that constitutes political representation. 24 In the phrase of Daniel Fischlin, based on a formulation made familiar by Michel Foucault in The Order of Things, the "representivity of representation" validates what might otherwise be characterized as Cohn's abuse of power. 25 Political sodomy does not have to be literal, but Cohn came to assert it in a defiant display of sexual dominance that likewise validated his "clout" (MA, 45). Sidney Zion, who collaborated on the autobiography, mentions that when they first met to discuss the book, Cohn "showed up an hour late, which was par, and with his boy friend, also par." 26 Cohn always denied he was gay, but Zion says: "He lived in a closet that was the oddest in history-a closet with neon lights-but he maintained it fiercely ... . The public didn't know he was homosexual until the end, when Jack Anderson broke the hospital records that showed AIDS." 27 Cohn's double-think is not so mystifying if one thinks in the terms I have just described. Cohn asserts the virile normalcy of the giver in sex- ual/political sodomy. In a scene in Part One, he explains to his doctor why he is not a homosexual-and therefore cannot have AIDS-despite the fact that he has sex with men: All labels ... tell you one thing and one thing only: where does an individual so identified fit in the food chain, in the pecking order? Not ideology, or sexual taste, but something much 24 1 use the abbreviation MA and P, respectively, to refer to the two parts ofT ony Kushner' s Angels in America: A Cay Fantasia on National Themes, Part One: Millennium Approaches and Part Two: Perestroika (New York: Theatre Communications Group, 1993 and 1994, respectively) . 25 Michel Foucault, The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences (1970; rpt. New York: Vintage Books, 1994), 65; Daniel Fischlin, '"The Sovereignty of Words' : The Sovereign's Body, Absolute Power, and the Disintegrating Text," conference, Michel Foucault and Literature, University ofT oronto, 15 October 1994. 26 Sidney Zion, The Autobiography of Roy Cohn (Secaucus, N.J.: Lyle Stuart Inc. , 1988), 9. 27 Zion, 12. 80 RICHARD DELLAMORA simpler: clout. Not who I fuck or who fucks me, but who will pick up the phone when I call, who owes me favors. This is what a label refers to. Now to someone who does not under- stand this, homosexual is what I am because I have sex with men. But really this is wrong. Homosexuals are not men who sleep with other men. Homosexuals are men who in fifteen years of trying cannot get a pissant antidiscrimination bill through City Council. Homosexuals are men who know nobody and who nobody knows. Who have zero clout. Does this sound like me, Henry? (MA, 45) But Cohn protests too much. Affirming that he is a fucker, he confesses he may be a fuckee. Moreover, in the autobiography he points out that, as a young man, he was repeatedly the beneficiary of much older mentors. 28 This dependency rendered him an effeminatus, the young male (un)made by political/sexual sodomy. 29 Cohn compensates for his dependence by proclaiming the virtue of "loyalty" in political patronage and by the flamboyant display of his social and (sexual) power over younger men. If Cohn is a sodomite, he is a masculine sodomite, even when he is the receiver in anal intercourse. Cohn turns these scenes into performances of family romance. He sees himself as the "son" of his prime mentor, Joe McCarthy: " He valued me because I am a good lawyer, but he loved me because I was and I am a good son in a continuing series. He was a very difficult man, very guarded and cagey; I brought out something tender in him. He would have died for me. And me for him." (MA, 56). In Part Two of Angels in America, Cohn attempts to enlist Joe as his son in a continuing series (P, 82). Cohn and McCarthy became celebrities by accusing others of 28 Zion, 84-86. 29 " The effeminatus in classical republican theory is ... a composite or protean figure, the empty or negat ive symbol at once of civic enfeeblement and of the monstrous self-absorption that becomes visible in a society at just the moment at which ... private interest has begun to prevail against those things that concern the public welfare" (Dowling, 8). Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 81 political treason and sexual perversion. 30 They presented themselves as signal examples of the male citizen-warrior upon whose bravery the very survival of the city depended. It is this culturally archaic, Greek model that gave the Army hearings of the Senate Investigating Committee their extraordinary symbolic hold on the popular imagination. For what McCarthy and Cohn proposed to do was to protect the Army from being perverted. The situation of these two men-in the heyday of the Cold War and at a time when the dominance of the United States was most pronounced-placed them at the cusp of American history. Yet McCarthy's attacks on World War II heroes such as General Ralph Swicker sent a confusing message to listeners. If the Army was the chief bulwark against Communist expansion, how could attacks on it for being soft on Communists be patriotic? The Army embodied patriotism, and the former Commander in Chief, Dwight Eisenhower, was the new resident of the White House. McCarthy's attack on the Army dictated the need for moderate Republicans (in concert with Democrats) to take him down. None of this would have surprised Machiavelli, who contends that civic virtue is necessarily compromised by the same imperial expansion that it requires. 31 America's post-War ascendancy created the stage for McCarthy and Cohn; it also dictated that their corruption would lead to their defeat. The moment of this fall occurred during the Army-McCarthy hearings of 1954, when Cohn, while serving as chief counsel of the committee, was subjected to extensive cross examination on the basis of allegations that he and McCarthy had pressured the Army to give preferential treatment to a young man named G. David Schine-a close friend of Cohn and another of McCarthy's proteges. In the allegation, the terms of sexual and 30 Seejohn D'Emilio, "The Homosexual Menace: The Politics of Sexuality in Cold War America," in Passion and Power: Sexuality in History, ed. Kathy Peiss, Christina Simmons, and Robert A. Padgug (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1989), 226- 240; Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities: The Making of a Homosexual Minority in the United States, 1940-1970 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983); Robert j. Corber, In the Name of National Security: Hitchcock, Homophobia, and the Political Construction of Gender in Postwar America (Durham: Duke University Press, 1993); and David Savran, Communists, Cowboys, and Queers: The Politics of Masculinity in the Work of Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992). 31 Maurizio Viroli, "Machiavelli and the Republican Idea of Politics," in Machiavelli and Republicanism, ed. by Gisela Bock, Quentin Skinner, and Maurizio Viroli (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 157-161. 82 RICHARD DELLAMORA political sodomy coalesce since word on the Hill was that Cohn and Schine were fuck buddies. 32 "Senator, may we not drop this? Let us not assassinate this lad further, Senator. You have done enough. Have you no sense of decency, sir, at long last? Have you no sense of decency?" 33 This riposte, from Army counsel Joseph Welch, destroyed McCarthy. The "lad" in question was Fred Fisher, a young Harvard Law School man who worked at Welch's Hale and Dorr firm in Boston. Fisher had been a member of the National Lawyers Guild, an organization on the Attorney General's list as a Communist front. This may not have been fair to the National Lawyers Guild, but in 1954 knowledge of such a connection could make it next to impossible for a person to earn a living. 34 In yet another permutation of Washington deal-making, Welch had provided Cohn with this information in exchange for a pledge not to make use of it during the hearings. On 9 June 1954, McCarthy, provoked by Welch's needling of Cohn, interrupted cross examination to allege, on nationwide television, that Welch had a "young man" in his law firm who was a member of a "Communist organization." Welch pounced, and McCarthy was finished. McCarthy had intervened in order, as Cohn contends, to "protect" him. 35 In the event, the attempt was McCarthy's undoing. In a contest of loyalties, Welch's loyalty to his protege outmatched McCarthy's to Cohn. And what about Cohn's loyalty to his mentor? Cohn's reckless harassment of Army officials to secure favors for Schine provoked the Army-McCarthy hearings, during which McCarthy met his nemesis. Moreover, Cohn concedes that in the succeeding days 32 Nicholas von Hoffman, Citizen Cohn (New York: Doubleday, 1988), 188-190; 229- 231 . McCarthy was an alcoholic not a homosexual (176). Although Roy may have had a crush on Schine, Murray Kempton believes that Schine was straight (quoted in Von Hoffman, 189-190). 33 Quoted in Von Hoffman, 237. 34 Von Hoffman, 236. 35 Zion, 145. Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 83 he and others close to McCarthy let him hang himself on television without intervening to save him from himself. 36 In Angels in America, Kushner conflates McCarthy and Cohn's republicanism with that of the Reagan years. The independent self- reliance of the traditional farmer/citizen/soldier has been transformed into the rampant pursuit of desire, whether political or otherwise. Inverting the traditional opposition between virile citizen and the "luxury" and "corruption" of political patronage, Kushner projects onto Roy and joe the "mere personal egoism or self-interest" traditionally condemned by republican theorists. 37 When Roy urges joe to leave his wife to go to Washington, for example, he says: "You do what you need to do, joe. What you need. You. Let her life go where it wants to go. You'll both be better for that. Somebody should get what they want" (MA, 54). Machiavelli sees the degeneration of the city-state as part of a "cyclical history" that includes the possibility "of the last-minute moral regeneration of a society otherwise rolling to the brink of destruction." 38 Kushner satirizes the parodic invocation of this possibility in the "Good Morning, America" theme of Reagan's campaign for a second term. Trying to persuade Harper to go to Washington with him, joe waxes apocalyptic: America has rediscovered itself. Its sacred pos1t1on among nations. And people aren't ashamed of that like they used to be. This is a great thing. The truth restored. Law restored. That's what President Reagan's done, Harper. He says "Truth exists and can be spoken proudly". . . . I mean, six years ago the world seemed in decline, horrible, hopeless, full of unsolvable problems and crime and confusion and hunger and ... . (MA, 26). This awakening, however, is a mirage. The true image of the body politic of these years is Roy Cohn's AIDS-wracked body, spilling HIV-infected body fluids onto Joe in Perestroika. The atavistic image of the Sovereign's 36 Zion, 149. 37 Dowli ng, 5, 7. Similarly Karl Marx projects the vice of "egoism" onto Jews. I discuss the implications of the allegation in " Judaism, Sodom, and Genealogical Inheritance," a l ecture delivered at Brown University on 7 November 1996. 38 Dowling, 5. 84 RICHARD DELLAMORA body, which once incorporated the well-being of the entire community, occupies the stage in Roy's monstrous, pathetic guise. 39 Routes of Desire Kushner poses against the narrative of national decline an apocalyptic counternarrative of perverse desire. Having represented political sodomy, he faces the question whether it is possible to represent relations of male-male desire that can enable rather than corrupt the body politic. Kushner frames this question in terms of an array of apocalyptic discourses, some Christian, some Jewish, some secular (Freudian and Marxist), and others sacred. In Millennium Approaches, Joe Pitt, the young Republican and closeted homosexual who, as chief clerk of an appellate judge in New York City, writes ultra-conservative legal decisions on behalf of the court, recalls his obsession with the image of Jacob wrestling with the angel: I had a book of Bible stories when I was a kid. There was a picture I'd look at twenty times every day: Jacob wrestles with the angel. I don't really remember the story, or why the wrest I i ng-j ust the picture. Jacob is young and very strong. The angel is . .. a beautiful man, with golden hair and wings, of course. I still dream about it. Many nights. I'm .. . It's me. In that struggle. Fierce, and unfair. (MA, 49). In context, Joe's words are a virtual confession of homosexuality to his wife, Harper. But more is in question. The dream is a representation of desire between men: its attraction and obsessiveness, its refusal to become part of I ife's normal narratives, even the sense of election that accompanies it. But the sentence, "The angel is ... a beautiful man," reads in two directions. Not only does it disclose Joe's investment in male beauty; that investment is also seen as something sacred and apocalyptic. Joe forgets what follows in the biblical narrative, namely that Jacob's encounter transforms him and his posterity. After the pair wrestle, the angel gives Jacob a new name, Israel, signifying his role in the emancipation of his people. 40 The implication is that male-male desire need not function only within the decadent political order of Reagan and Cohn; it can function within one in which a people are 39 Daniel Fischlin, "The Sovereign's Body." 4 Cenesis 32.24, 28. Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 85 constituted and find their destiny. The work assigned joe by the play is to remember this other possibility of desire. In the Marxist tradition, the language of angels in the play refers-as does Prior Walter's name-to the "angel of history" that Walter Benjamin describes in his "Theses on the Philosophy of History." About this angel, whose wings are caught in a "storm ... blowing from Paradise," more in due course. 41 Concerning jacob's angel, Kushner remarks that he was impressed by Harold Bloom's reading of the story. In Bloom's account, what jacob seeks from the angel is "the Blessing, which in every sense primarily means more life." 42 Kushner echoes this statement in the play. For the moment, however, I am more interested in another comment, which helps explain the destructive operations of desire in characters such as Joe. Bloom writes: Freud interprets every investment of libido as a transaction in the transference of authority, which always resides in figures of the individual's past and only rarely survives in the individual proper . . . . [This situation results in the subject's] vacillat[ing] between the need to be everything in oneself and the anxiety of being nothing in oneself, ... [a process that] helps account for what Freud calls repression or defense, the flight from forbidden representations of desire. (8) Within the family romance of Kushner's play, Joe's transference originates in his relationship with his father, who, we are told, refused him his love (MA, 76). This loss helps explain Joe's fascination with Cohn and the confession of homosexuality that he makes to him later in Perestroika. Moreover, the strength of the transference testifies to the best decision that joe makes in the play: namely, his refusal to accept Cohn's offer to send him to Washington to be his eyes and ears at the justice Depart- ment. The fact that at the end of Perestroika Joe is "sitting alone in Brooklyn" (144) is, in this context, not a bad point at which to arrive. Kushner, though, takes Bloom's point in a more general way. In Angels in America, passionate attachment to a single other individual is 41 Walter Benjamin, Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt and trans. Harry Zohn (New York: Schocken Books, 1976), 257. Benjamin's angel also draws on Jewish hermetic tradition; see Robert Alter, Necessary Angels: Tradition and Modernity in Kafka, Benjamin, and Scholem (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1991). 42 Harold Bloom, "Introduction," in Musical Variations on jewish Thought, by Olivier Revault D'AIIonnes and trans. Judith L. Greenberg (New York: George Braziller, 1984), 27. 86 RICHARD DELLAMORA portrayed as a form of addiction. It can be overcome only through separation and loss. Prior Walter undergoes this experience when Louis leaves him because he cannot face Prior's illness. joe's pill-popping wife, Harper, confesses to him: "In the whole entire world, you are the only person, the only person I love or have ever loved. And I love you terribly" (MA, 50). When Harper leaves joe at the end of Perestroika and flies to San Francisco (Heaven, in one scene of the play; in post-Stonewalf history, the gay mecca; likewise, the end point of westward settlement), her choice of exile is appropriate because it means reclaiming authority from the object of her desire. These passages are important to the politics of same-sex desire in Kushner's play since they set it against "the family" as heterosexual norm and "the couple" as regulating principle of gay and lesbian attraction, a point especially worth making since the sexual transmission of HIV has led to an exaggerated emphasis on the monoga- mous couple as the proper form of gay relationship. If gay existence does have a telos, Kushner represents it at the end of the play in the group who form at the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park. This group includes sexual and emotional ties between men: Belize and Louis, who has returned to Prior but not been permitted to live with him, are both former intimates of Prior although Belize's own lover lives "uptown" (P, 96). The group also includes a Mormon, Hannah, who saved Prior's life earlier in the play and successfully makes the transition to life as a single woman in New York City. Her family, joe and Harper, are gone. Sociality involves an affective, collaborative group beyond the limits of the couple and the nuclear family. It is in this "movement beyond" that the practical terms of gay existence and its more general political significance lie. The "transference of authority/' however, does not lead easily to such an outcome. For joe and many other homosexuals, it is more likely to take the shape of an abject service to the powers that be. When Nietzsche refers to the "strong man," he conjures the figure of the soldier/citizen of Sparta, who more likely than not had a male beloved. 43 Accordingly, Nietzsche's contrast is not between a (heterosexual) strong man and an effeminate (homosexual). The weak, hysterical type need not be homosexual; and, in some contexts, strong men regularly had male lovers. It's in the Cold War battles of Republicans and Democrats that the distinction is recoded in terms of a binary difference between heterosexual and homosexual. The implication of desire between men in political patronage poses an ethical challenge to Kushner since it 43 Richard Del Iamora, Apocalyptic Overtures: Sexual Politics and the Sense of an Ending (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1994), chapter two. Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 87 clearly demonstrates that the moral significance of sexual and emotional ties between men depends upon the systematic relations within which they are made. Traditionally, the "system" has been that of oligarchic privilege and preference. In the opening scenes of Part One, the characters provide a number of apocalyptic images of contemporary existence: Marxist, Hegel ian, Jewish, Christian, and American. Interestingly, it is those who prove to be most cowardly or duplicitous who are optimistic. Those who will show themselves capable, before the end, of disinvesting in the object of their desire, begin with visions of destruction. Harper says: "Maybe the troubles will come, and the end will come, and the sky will collapse and there will be terrible rains and showers of poison light, or maybe my life is really fine, maybe joe loves me and I'm only crazy thinking otherwise, or maybe not, maybe it's even worse than I know, maybe ... I want to know, maybe I don't" (MA, 18). After the funeral of Louis's grandmother, Sarah lronson, Prior reveals to Louis the first signs of Kaposi's Sarcoma: " K. S., baby. Lesion number one. Lookit. The wine-dark kiss of the angel of death" (MA, 21 ). The angel of death. The phrase brings us back to jacob's angel and to Benjamin's, which looks backward upon "the past" as "one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet." 44 Following Nietzsche, Bloom emphasizes "the Hebraic esteem for time." Unlike the Greeks who, like the succeeding nations of the gentile West, including the United States "strove for excellence, for occupying the foremost place," the jews are "the people that honored their father and their mother. . . . To honor one's parents ... is to contend only for the Blessing, which is temporal." The Hebrew word olam has an apocalyptic resonance, referring not only to the life time of an individual but to a "time without boundaries": When jacob wrestles all night with a nameless angel, the struggle is not for a place, but to delay the angel, whose temporal anxiety is overwhelming: "Let me go, for it is daybreak!" The angel is ... perhaps the Angel of Death, and jacob's victory depends upon the angel's refusal to confront the dawn . . .. Blessed by the new name of Israel, jacob limps away from Penuel, with the sun rising upon him, but not upon the supernatural being who has fled. Israel's limp testifies to having been crippled at a 44 Benjamin, 257. 88 RICHARD DELLAMORA particular place, but the far more vital testimony is to the triumph of having prevailed into a time without boundaries. 45 Bloom's interpretation may be described as Oedipal in a modified way. Jacob rebels successfully against the law of primogeniture; nevertheless, as his limp indicates, he remains an Oedipal and, therefore, normal subject. 46 Near the end of Perestroika, the angel, whom Prior has wrestled successfully, prophesies the death of the universe. He replies: But still. Still . Bless me anyway. I want more life. I can't help myself. I do . . .. Death usually has to take life away. I don't know if that's just the animal. I don't know if it's not braver to die. But I recognize the habit. The addiction to Qeing alive. We I ive past hope. If I can find hope anywhere, that's it, that's the best I can do. It's so much not enough, so inadequate but. ... Bless me anyway, I want more I ife. (P, 135, 136) In the Old Testament, jacob achieves his identity by accomplishing a swerve in the order of patri I ineal succession: he steals the blessing owed of right to the first-born son. Doing so, he becomes the progenitor of the people of God, Israel. The fate of a people hangs on the success of his struggle. In the perverse family romance of gay existence, Prior Walter wrestles as the lover of other men. In the play, he wrestles with a hermaphroditic angel. She participates in the politics of effeminacy since, in an apparent throwback to turn-of-the-century third-sex theory, she identifies herself as Walter's female soul or, in her words, his "Released Female Essence Ascendant." The angel's gendering otherwise, however, is not limited to a representation of sexual inversion. 47 "Hermaphroditically Equipped" with "eight vaginas" and "a Bouquet of Phalli/' she figures autosexuality plus possibilities of male-female, female- male, male-male, and female-female sexuality (P, 48). This multiplication interrupts the lines of male filiation and affiliation that belong to patriarchal authority. Kushner connects Prior's struggle too with that of 45 Bioom, 12, 13. 46 Jacob's limited (and sanctioned) revolt falls within the apocalyptic tradition of conventional male succession that Jacques Derrida describes in The Post Card. I analyze Derrida's account of the phenomenon of "buggery" within this line in Apocalyptic Overtures, 17-23. 47 Christopher Craft, Another Kind of Love: Male Homosexual Desire in English Discourse, 7 850-7 920 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 35-36. Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 89 a people, not those of a single blood line but those who can be called Queer Nation, if we use the term in the wider sense that Kushner makes avai I able at the end of the play. He contrasts this alternative to other, ironic aspects of the Angel's message, which can be called decadent since they call for Prior's narrative to end with death, the first of the last four things of apocalypse, and to dispense with the other three: judgment, Heaven, or Hell. 48 At the end of Part One, as he awaits the arrival of the Angel, Prior imagines that it carries "the Book of Life" (MA, 115). In a flashback in Act Two of Perestroika, the angel descends, naming Prior "Prophet" and command- ing him to open the Book concealed in "a very dusty ancient leather suitcase" (P, 46) buried under the kitchen floor. Ironically, however, the Book is a Book of Death. The angel is in despair since God abandoned the angels in Heaven in order to pursue the wandering progress of the human beings whom he has created. In the angel's eye, the only remedy is "STASIS" (P, 54). Prior must accept, must become "the End" by yielding to suffering, illness, and death. In a scene in Act Five, set "in the Council Room of the Continental Principalities," the Continental Angels, panicking, deplore the coming end of the world. They beseech the absent Creator to return to save mankind. But it is Prior and his Angel, not God, who appear in response to their appeals. Prior now carries "the Book." Returning it to them, he says: "We desire. Even if all we desire is stillness, it's still desire for. Even if we go faster than we should. We can't wait. And wait for what? God .. . . " (P, 132). Prior answers his question by telling the angels: "He isn't coming back" (P, 133). He isn't coming back because there is no single cause, book, answer, or system that can explain the meaning of time. He isn't coming back because, as figure of the authority invested in desire, there is no object outside ourselves that provides an ultimate ground, norm, or telos of desire. We are left with ourselves and our histories, which now include the realities of AIDS. 49 It is the insistence on reading the Book, teasing out its significance, that Bloom argues has enabled jewish tradition to survive the past two millennia. But it is the continual deferral of the fulfillment of the Book's promise, the continual blowing of the storm from Paradise, that leaves jewish history open. Were the Messiah to come, the Book would be both fulfilled and at an end: "'For the Jew, having a place means finishing a 48 Dellamora, Apocalyptic Overtures, 31. 49 See Peter Dickinson's commentary in '"Go-go Dancing on the Brink of the Apocalypse': Representing AIDS: An Essay in Seven Epigraphs," i n Postmodern Apocalypse, ed. Dellamora, 219-240. 90 RICHARD DELLAMORA book. /The unfinished book was our survival."' 5 Kushner sees a tension in Jewish thought between the desire for a time when apocalyptic hope wi II come to rest in a particular place and the need for that day to be continually postponed. The history of Jewish immigration to the New World, memorialized at the opening of Millennium Approaches, indicates the reality of the latter as well as implicitly placing the author of the play and his family in contemporary jewish history. The dream of the "The World's Oldest Bolshevik" at the beginning of Perestroika for a "True Praxis" married to a "True Theory" testifies to the opposed tendency within Jewish messianic thinking, here in the guise of the Soviet appropriation of Marx's texts, to demand, at whatever price in bloodshed, the establishment of the new order in a new state (P, 14). In contrast, Benjamin's Marxism positions him in two times, historical and apocalyp- tic. The theory of class struggle makes the "Angelus Novus" turn back in horror as it sees in history the accumulated debris of "one single catastrophe." At the same time, Benjamin's parable suspends the metonymic trope of history as the succession of classes. The "storm blowing from Paradise" impels the angel into a future that it cannot see. 5 1 The implication of this situation, for Benjamin, for Bloom, for the Jewish people-and for Prior's flock-is one of perpetual exile; but this exile has its benefits. In Bloom's words, "The wandering people has taught itself and others the lesson of wandering meaning" (6). Embedded as it is in Jewish tradition, Kushner's play exemplifies wandering as a part of both Jewish and Gentile culture-for Belize, for example, whose antecedents came from Africa to a Spanish-speaking part of the New World and, from there, to New York City. For Prior, from an old WASP family. And for Harper, who is called upon to become one of the "nomads eddying across the planet" (MA, 17). Kushner extends his apocalyptic trajectory to include people of diverse colors, ethnicity, and religion. The Feverish Body Politic From one perspective, decadence and apocalypse belong to different modes of thought. Understood in historicist terms, decadence negates apocalyptic awareness. Like individuals, societies have a time of birth, growth, maturity, decline, and death. In this narrative, death really is "the end." Decadence in this sense is associated in particular with imperial expansion, for instance, the transformation of Rome from a 50 Edmond Jabes, cited by Bloom, 21. 51 1n the Introduction to Postmodern Apocalypse, I discuss the meditation upon thi s passage by the postmodern Jewish cultural theorist, Jonathan Boyarin (3, 5). Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 91 Republic into an Empire. Kushner's materials indicate the possibility of reading American history in this way. In these terms, the effort by McCarthy and Cohn to ferret out traitors in the Army, the Reagan Administration's attempt to expel gays and lesbians from the armed services, and the overwhelmingly negative reaction of white males to the effort made at the outset of President Clinton's first administration to revoke that policy are all part of a morality drama in which warrior virtue must be preserved so that the American conquest of space won't turn into a death knell. In classic rep ubi ican theory, it was argued that "even if empire must ultimately corrupt, there was a historical anaku/6sis whereby liberty-loving warriors-Greeks, Romans, and Goths-won empires by their virtue and held them so long as it lasted." 52 For Machiavelli, decadence is a dialectical term. He believes in the possibility of a reversal whereby virtu, once lost, can be recovered and the commonwealth restored. Belief in such a possibility-and mecha- nisms aimed at securing it-has been a recurrent feature of republican theory. 53 A similar reversal occurs in Angels in America, but it occurs only after Kushner, like Nietzsche, abandons confidence in terms such as virtu or, even, virtue. Rather, a decadence compatible with embracing the dawn from which Jacob's angel flees depends upon displacing the meaning of the word. If the spectacle of Roy Cohn's failing body provides a powerful image of imperial decline, the spectacle of Prior .in drag, Prior ill, Prior resilient provides an image of reversal in which sickness opens the possibility of health. Framed in Neitzschean terms, Prior as effeminatus means something very different from Roy or Joe as effeminatus. Nietzsche's reflections on decadence grew out of personal experi- ence. Given his long, debilitating illness, he was in the position of one "who knows the value of health for having been sick and who, therefore, cannot fail to recogni ze the philosophical value of sickness itself, without which health would be unable to achieve self-consciousness." 54 Harper makes a similar observation when she tells Prior: "Deep inside you, there's a part of you, the most inner part, entirely free of disease. I can see that" (MA 34) . In terms of the play, this refl exiveness helps one understand why, even when the angel invites Prior to become the Prophet of STASIS, the angelic visitation prompts mutual orgasm. 52 Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment, 511. 53 Pocock, 519. 54 Matei Calinescu, Five Faces of Modernity: Modernism, Avant-Carde, Decadence, Kitsch, Postmodernism (Durham: Duke University Press, 1987), 179. 92 RICHARD DELLAMORA When Nietzsche uses the "metaphor" of gender difference, he argues that masculine strength produces not progress but stasis-ultimately, death. To the contrary, it is the weak, feminine aspect of human behavior that keeps time moving ahead. In The Cay Science, he writes: The weak and quasi feminine type of the dissatisfied has a sensitivity for making life more beautiful and profound; the strong or masculine type, to stick to this metaphor, has a sensitivity for making life better and safer ... . [If the feminine] type had not been super-abundant in Europe since the Middle Ages, the celebrated European capacity for constant change might never have come into existence, for the requirements of the strong among the dissatisfied are too crude and at bottom so undemanding that eventually they can surely be brought to rest. Nietzsche continues: Europe is sick but owes the utmost gratitude to her incurability and to the eternal changes in her affliction: these constantly new conditions and these no less constantly new dangers, pains, and media of information have finally generated an intellectual irritability that almost amou':lts to genius and is any case the mother of all genius. 55 "Europe is sick," Nietzsche says; and so is America. In Kushner's narrative, it is the subjects of illness who bring "blessing" upon them- selves and others. Matei Cal inescu argues that Nietzsche regards decadence as "a phenomenon of the order of the will-decadence is a loss of the will to live, which prompts an attitude of revengefulness against life" (181-182). But decadence can also be regarded as a perverse mode of action: namely, willing refuge in illusion. In Angels in America, Reaganite optimism exemplifies willful (self-)deception. Joe claims that Reagan has restored "Law" and "the truth," but Harper tells Prior: "When we think we've escaped the unbearable ordinariness and, well, untruthfulness of our lives, it's really only the same old ordinariness and falseness rearranged into the appearance of novelty and truth" (MA, 32). False consciousness is both cause and effect of decadence. In this context, catastrophes can motivate an ethical recovery by exposing the fictive character of ideology. "There is a great difference," Calinescu 55 Friedrich Nietzsche, The Cay Science: with a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage Books, 1974), 98, 99. Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 93 says, "between the perspective from which one can realize that truth is a fiction (a creation of life meant to help life achieve its purposes) and the perspective from which the decadent ascribes a character of truth to a fiction which as fiction, and under particular circumstances, might even have been justified in the name of life" (185). Finally, the "purpose of life" for Nietzsche, and for Prior is-more life. 56 As the subtitle A Gay Fantasia on National Themes, indicates, Kushner's people exist within the limits of U. S. nationality. I have already argued both that classical republican discourse continues to play an important role in American ideology and that American history tends to be framed in apocalyptic terms. 5 7 Since meaning in the play tends to expand to universal terms (desire, life, justice, love), tension needs to be maintained between the drive towards a universal representation and the assumption that America can somehow constitute a universal. The latter view is, of course, imperial, and, implicitly, xenophobic. Is it possible to credit the national character of the play without converting it into a moral universal? To do so, one has to consider how the agency that characters like Prior, Harper, and Hannah achieve comes about. American nationality has often been construed within terms that are both apocalyptic and Protestant. These are the terms, for example, within which Harriet Beecher Stowe demanded that Northerners respond to the injustice of slavery. In Uncle Tom's Cabin (1852), she writes: An atmosphere of sympathetic influence encircles every human being; and the man or woman who feels strongly, healthily, and justly, on the great interests of humanity, is a constant benefactor to the human race. See, then, to your sympathies in this matter! Are they in harmony with the sympathies of Christ?' or are they swayed and perverted by the sophistries of worldly policy? 58 But what happens when, as in Angels in America, God has gone away and there is no given set of sympathies, correct alignment with which guarantees either one's virtu or one's virtue? On what basis is the expansive "sympathy" of the final scene of Kushner's play to be grounded? Let me make a number of suggestions: first, on the basis of a 56 Cali nescu, 188. 57 See Ernest Lee Tuveson, Redeemer Nation: The Idea of America's Millennia/ Role (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968). 58 Quoted in Tuveson, 190. 94 RICHARD DELLAMORA desire that is neither relinquished nor lodged in an authoritative other but for which individuals take responsibility; second, on interpersonal relations that include active, mutual care; third, on group commit- ments-for which individuals take responsibility; fourth, on a sense of "the great interests of humanity"; fifth, in a continuing contest over the significance of gender and sexuality since those who gather at the Bethesda Fountain continue to invert the values of the citizen/military man. Struggle continues over the ethics of male-male desire within a politics that is at once public and private-personal, interpersonal, social, and national. Kushner frames the play in ways that draw into question the metalanguage of American nationality. Both republican and apocalyptic aspects of this discourse shape his thinking, but he uses them in a spirit of mutual and self-reflexive criticism that sustains his vision of the possibilities of contemporary democracy. The concept of decadence likewise is important because of the ways in which it is already deployed in debates about who can or cannot beaU. S. citizen in the full sense of the word (P, 148). In the 1980s and early 1990s, conservatives such as Gingrich based their attacks on legal remedies for discrimination. against members of particular groups upon the doctrine of Illiberal formalism," according to which the authors of the Constitution intended solely to protect individ- ual rights. 5 9 Those who take this view class the protections and remedies made available to classes of persons through legislation such as the Voting Rights Act of 1965 as a cause and effect of the politics of faction. Claims to the contrary notwithstanding, however, Madison in the Federalist Papers contends that liberty in the United States depends upon the continual struggles of groups with different and conflicting interests. Kushner's concern with gaining civil liberties for gay men and lesbians makes him more than a disinterested bystander to such discussions. In affirming the rights of individuals belonging to different groups and in demanding full rights of citizenship for gays and lesbians, Angels in America articulates the relationship between individual and group identity in terms familiar within American republican theory. In The Federalist Papers, Madison recognizes that the United States had outgrown the possibilities of both pure democracy and a republican constitution based on that of Rome and the ancient Greek city-states. Accordingly, he relinquishes the classic republican ideal of a state 59 Bruce E. Cain and W. T. Jones, "Madi son's Theory of Representation," in Bernard Grofman and Donald Wittman, jt. ed., The Federalist Papers and the New Institut ionalism (New York: Agathon Press, 1989), 30. Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 95 constituted by citizen/soldiers in favor of a federal republic. 60 In the tenth number, he uses the same metaphor for the Union as Kushner does. Madison describes the body politic as a diseased " body" susceptible to the "vices" of factional interests 61 In going on to propose the checks and balances of the federal Constitution as the only way of regulating the negative effects of faction, his view differs from republican theory in acknowledging that government operates not on the basis of the direct participation of individual citizens but of continually changing factions. As "interests," factions do have a rational aspect, but Madison defines them primarily in relation to "some common impulse of passion." 62 Madison's confidence that the federal framework can maintain ever shifting patterns of interest in a dynamic equilibrium makes his model liberal democratic. It is at this point that Kushner parts company with Madison. The realization that justice for America's queer citizens is continually deferred propels Kushner beyond the limits of liberal thinking and demands, in effect, the apocalyptic terms within which the play is set. Madison's theory is decadent insofar as faction, a vice that communi- cates "mortal diseases" to "popular governments," when regulated by 60 1n his own terms, Madison contrasts the espousal of a federal republic to what he refers to as the "pure democracy" of ancient Greece (Frederick Quinn, ed., The Federalist Papers Reader, preface by Warren E. Burger and foreword by A. E. Dick Howard [Washington, D. C. : Seven Locks Press, 1993], 74-hereafter cited as Madison). As he describes the Constitution in the tenth number of the Federalist Papers, however, the federal republic has the elements of what today would be characterized as liberal democracy. Pocock remarks: Because "the people" is now undifferentiated [by virtue], it is not circumscribed by definition and distribution of specific qualities. It is of unknown mass and force, and can develop new and unpredicted needs, capacities, and powers. [For Madison] all of these can be received and coordinated within the structure of federalism, so that the classic rhetoric of balance and stability is still appropriate, but this structure can be proclaimed capable of indefinite expansion, since there is no need to insist in advance that the new social elements which will seek representation be those previously conceived as part of the harmonics of virtue. They are not perceived rationally as elements in the architecture of the common good, but as interests conceived and pursued in passion; the federal structure, however, is capable of absorbing new passions and grows by absorbing them. If the people are perpetually constituent, therefore, this is because they and their republic are in perpetual and kineti c growth. (523) 61 Madison, 77, 70. 62 Madison, 71. 96 RICHARD DELLAMORA the processes of representative government, nonetheless provides the sole actual basis on which decisions can be made, including those that protect the rights of individuals and minorities while attempting to foster "the permanent and aggregate interests of the community." 63 The health of the Union depends, then, on a body that is, by definition, always feverish. The characters of Angels in America have seen the state of the Union embodied in Roy's infectious body, a trope of the triumph of faction as a result, in Madison's words, of "an attachment to different leaders ambitiously contending for pre-eminence and power; or to persons of other description whose fortunes have been interesting to the human passions. " 64 Prior's body is a second trope of the feverish body politic, animated by the "passions" of the particular minority known as gay men. On the one hand, this faction demands that government extend to it the same protections from the effects of majority "passion" that Madison recog- nized to be a primary function of representative government. On the other hand, Kushner presents the passion of gay men as one important basis in formulating a sociality that is capable of indefinite expansion and variation. This is the promise that the alliance of sexual with group politics offers to democracy. Through the perspective of his Gay Fantasia, Kushner poses the possibility of renewal out of decadence that Madison sees as the necessary ground of democratic existence. Prior and hi's friends come to recognize that, contrary to Madison's theory, the Constitution does not protect members of particular minorities from the vicious results of faction and interest. This recognition impels Kushner's vision beyond the limits of liberal democracy. In face of discrimination against persons with AIDS (PWAs), apocalypse again becomes the necessary mode of political expression. 65 The /'Not Yef 1 of Cay Existence Thus far, f have considered Kushner's play in relationship to the place of decadence within republican political theory and in Jewish apocalyptic tradition. What about its place in Christian tradition? Criticizing the scene at the Bethesda Fountain, jonathan Freedman has argued that the end of the play regresses to the genre of comedy as described by 63 Madison, 70, 71. 64 Madison, 72. 65 Douglas Crimp and Adam Rolston, AIDS Demographics (Seattle: Bay Press, 1990); Douglas Crimp, ed., AIDS: Cultural Analysis, Cultural Activism (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1989). Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 97 Northrop Frye. In this particular apocalyptic mode, Kushner affirms a redemptive renewal-but at the price of effacing queer and, in particular, Jewish difference. In Frye's words: "The crudest of Plautine comedy- formulas has much the same structure as the central Christian myth itself, with its divine son appeasing the wrath of a father and redeeming what is at once a society and a bride." 66 In contrast, Linda Hutcheon sees the relationship of the play to Christian myth as wholly negative. She argues that Kushner stages the fundamentalist Christian myth of AIDS as God's revenge on sodomites in the shape of the bigotry expressed in joe's self- hatred and his mother's initial disavowal of his confession of homosexu- ality.67 The relationship of queer nationality and gay identity to Christian apocalypse, however, is different and more complex than either Freedman or Hutcheon suggest. First of all, as Emmanuel Levinas has said, jews in the West "breathe an atmosphere completely impregnated with Christian essence." 68 Second, Christian apocalypse is strongly characterized by Jewish tradition through the medium of St. Paul, who insists both on the efficacious drama of personal conversion and on a redemption that takes the shape of universal justice. 69 Moreover, the characteristic structures of thought and feeling within gay liberation in the years following Stonewall are saturated with Christian attitudes. For example, the experience of coming out of the closet, central to gay liberation, is a conversion experience, and in the 1970s the ethos of Gay Liberation was egalitarian and democratic. Gay Liberationists contended that they were struggling not only for individual or group rights but for general emancipation. In the much different atmosphere of the AIDS epidemic, the tendency to see PWAs as salvific figures bearing the burden of both general guilt and the cynical exercise of political power has been at times inescapable, as, for example, in the ACT UP "die-in" held at St. Patrick's Roman Catholic Cathedral in New York City in December 66 Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays (New York: Atheneum, 1968), 185. 67 Linda Hutcheon, '"Life-and-Death Passions': ' Operatic' AIDS and the Stage," Essays in Theatre 13 (May 1995): 118-119. 68 Eiaine Marks, Marrano as Metaphor: The Jewish Presence in French Writing (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996), 131 . 69 Daniel Boyarin, A Radical jew: Paul and the Politics of Identity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 3, 8. 98 RICHARD DELLAMORA 1989. 7 Finally, not all forms of Christian apocalypticism are quietist or conservative as in Frye. Unlike Frye's, the apocalypse at Bethesda Fountain is not heterosexual nor does it validate, much less glorify, either the couple or the family as the basic units of human sociality. And Freedman is wrong, I believe, to think that Kushner believes redemption is achieved at this moment in the play. To understand the gathering at the Fountain, it is more useful to understand it with reference to the double temporality of apocalypse in Liberation Theology, the conflation of Marxist theory and Roman Catholic apocalyptic thinking associated with community activism in Latin America since the 1960s. 71 During the 1980s, the epidemiology of AIDS resulted in a demand for justice that feminist theologian Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza sees as a leading aspect of the message of the final book of the New Testament. Schussler Fiorenza argues that time in Apocalypse is not historical, as most scholars and theologians have argued, but eschatological. The key aspect of this eschatology is a double temporality, which positions Christians as subjects who exist between two moments in the coming of Christ's Kingdom: the moment in which it has been realized in His Incarnation, Death, and Resurrection; and the moment which Christians will enter only at the end of time. In that same moment, in which justice is not realized, it is the responsibility of Christians to bear witness to the existence of injustice and to work towards the future, already realized but still anticipated, in which all will live fully. The act of witness demands participation in efforts to validate individual and group existence but requires the disavowal of the logic of dominance that the language of binary inversion leaves unquestioned. In Schussler Fiorenza's words: Against the forces of economic, political, and religious oppres- sion within the Roman empire the mythopoeic vision of Rev. shows that God's and Christ's reign and salvation are different from those of the dominant culture. The last chapters of Rev. portray a world free of evil and suffering in order to give hope to those who are suffering and oppressed because they will not acknowledge the death-dealing political powers of their time. 72 7 Crimp and Rolston, AIDS Demographics, 130-142. 71 Tom Moylan, "Mission Impossible? Liberation Theology and Utopian Praxis," in Utopian Studies Ill, ed. Michael S. Cummings and Nicholas D. Smith (Lanham, Maryland: University Press of America, 1991), 20-30. 72 Eiisabeth Schussler Fiorenza, The Book of Revelation: Justice and Judgment (Phi !adelphia: Fortress Press, 1985), 24-25. Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 99 In the history of gay and lesbian emancipation, the mythical moment in which community is at once incarnated and redeemed took place when "in 1969, lesbian and gay street people, Puerto Rican drag queens, and bar gays fought back against a routine police raid at the Stonewall Tavern in New York City." 73 Within the terms of Gay Liberation in the 1970s, the instant of individual redemption occurs at the moment when the individual decides to "come out" of the closet. Nonetheless, the entry of the individual and collective subject into a fully transformed existence is deferred to the moment when "the holy city," the "New Jerusalem," comes "down out of heaven"/ 4 that is to say, to the time when gay and lesbian Americans become citizens in every sense of the word. At Bethesda, Prior testifies to this moment when he says: "We will be citizens" (P, 148). As an ethical demand, however, justice can never coincide with the time and place in which it is called for: justice exists within an apocalyptic dimension. 75 The Bethesda Fountain is usually regarded as a typical example of Victorian moral rhetoric: At the Esplanade's center was the large double-basi ned Bethesda Fountain, surmounted by the winged bronze statue of The Angel of the Waters, who, in the Gospel of John, troubled the Bethesda Pool in Jerusalem, giving it healing powers. Under the figure .of the Angel, four cherubs-Purity, Health, Peace, and Temper- ance-further echoed the churchly ambiance of the Victorian era. 76 Underlying the moral rhetoric, however, is a drama of national sacrifice. The sculptor, Emma Stebbins, has chosen the highly charged concept of a miraculous touch that could restore the injured fabric of the body politic: North and South, Black and White, at the close of the Civil War. 73 Gary Kinsman, The Regulation of Desire: Sexuality in Canada (Montreal : Black Rose Books, 1987), 179. Thanks to Danise G. Hoover (Hunter College Library) for this reference and to Chris Dunham (Douglass Library, Rutgers University) for a chill winter walk in Central Park. 74 Revelations 21.2. 75 Jacques Derrida, Specters of Marx: The State of the Debt, The Work of Mourning, and the New International, trans. Peggy Kamuf (New York: Routledge, 1994), 32-33. 76 Eugene Kinkead, Central Park: 7857-1995: The Birth, Decline, and Renewal of a National Treasure (New York: Norton, 1990), 37. 100 RICHARD DELLAMORA The special appeal of this monument, symbolic center of Central Park and New York City, has long been felt. And its memorial character has been repeatedly reinscribed. Kushner memorializes it in the name of PWAs. Kushner could not choose a more apt site for Prior to gather with his friends. What place in what city and what biblical narrative is more timely than that of the pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem? There Christ finds lying "a great multitude of the sick, blind, lame, and those with shrivelled I imbs, waiting for the moving of the water." 77 When he speaks to one who is without help to place him in the pool after it is stirred by the angel, Christ urges him: "Rise, take up thy pallet and walk." 78 He does-as have Prior and many others. At the end of the play, Hannah says: "The fountain of Bethesda," which ceased to flow at the time of the destruction of the Temple by the Romans, "will flow again .. . . We will all bathe ourselves clean" (P, 147). Prior responds: This disease will be the end of many of us, but not nearly all, and the dead will be commemorated and will struggle on with the living, and we are not going away. We won't die secret deaths anymore. The world only spins forward. We will be citizens. The time has come. (P, 148) Although I share Kushner's disbelief that the federal structure can accommodate the full range of "new and unpredicted needs, capacities, and powers" 79 generated within the body politic, the view that "the people" keep producing them provides a national frame of reference for such phenomena as AIDS activism and the demand by gays and lesbians, fiercely contested in the 1990s, that they be permitted to serve in the armed forces. This continual innovation means that no particular label, style, agenda, or combination thereof can adequately circumscribe the significance of sexual and emotional ties between men and their associated politics. Moreover, such ties are continually articulated in connection with other relations-as in Kushner's friendship with a straight woman named Kimberly Flynn, whose near fatal automobile accident and long, incomplete convalescence inform the play. 80 Today the epithet 77 }ohn 5.3. 78 }ohn 5.8. 79 Pocock, 523. 80 Lubow, "Tony Kushner's Paradise Lost," 61. Tony Kushner and the "Not Yet" of Gay Existence 101 "queer" attempts to capture this fluidity in personal and political alliance. The changing body politic that Madison envisages is one way of imagining a numerical infinity that includes space for individuals, relationships, and groups existing in an America that is infinite but not universal since such infinities can exist elsewhere as well. In Kushner's apocalypse, this dynamic situation briefly achieves equilibrium at the end of the play. This is the situation at the fin de millennium in which individual agency-even when defined as the ability to lose with grace, as Prior suggests-acquires meaning and where ever-changing sets of interpersonal relations witness both to loss and the demand for justice. journal of American Drama and Theatre 9 (Fall 1997) Book Notes From time to time, as space permits, we will be publishing notes about books in the field that have been brought to our attention and that should be of interest to our readers. There is no intention to present a critical review of these works. The notes are informative only. McNamara, Brooks. Day of jubilee: The Great Age of Public Celebration in New York, 1788-1909 (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1997). Lavishly illustrated, with several items in color, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York, this book presents accounts of public celebrations as planned performances-loosely scripted, stage managed, and performed by enormous casts with the entire city as stage. It describes in detail events from the Federal Procession of 23 July 1788 to the Hudson-Fulton Celebration of 1909, then adds an "Epilogue" of comment on the years after 1909. A "Prologue" explicates "Public Celebrations as Performance" and a useful listing of selected sources is appended before the Index. Pereira, John. Opening Nights: 25 Years of the Manhattan Theatre Club (New York: Peter Lang, 1996). This is a detailed and interesting history of one of the outstanding successes of the non-commercial theatre world. In addition to the chronologically arranged text, the volume includes a season-by-season listing of all plays produced, with the names of the author and director of each play, a general index, an index of theatrical productions, and forty pages of illustrations. This is a welcome and now indispensable addition to theatre studies. McDonough, Carla J. Staging Masculinity: Male Identity in Contempo- rary American Drama Uefferson, MC: McFarland & Co., Inc., 1997). Arguing that gender, unlike biological sex, is a construct equally applicable to men and to women, this interesting new book explores the BOOK NOTES 103 performance of masculinity in selected American plays. It begins by exploring certain "canonical forefathers"-O'Neill, Williams, Miller, and Baraka-then the author goes on to consider at length various works of Sam Shepard, David Mamet, David Rabe, and August Wilson, concluding with a brief mention of several other playwrights. There is an extensive bibliography and, of course, an index. The volume should prove useful in the emerging field of men's studies, as a corollary to women's studies. Proehl, Geoffrey S. Coming Home Again: American Family Drama and the Figure of the Prodigal (Cranbery, NJ: Associated University Presses, 1997). Using as a paradigm the New Testament story of the Prodigal Son, the author explores the concept of loss and recovery, of malfeasance and response, finding parallels in a variety of contemporary plays, and drawing examples from the long history of associations accruing to the original story and its various mutations. In presenting excessive drinking ("riotous living" in the original) as an almost universal trait, he point to nineteenth century temperance drama as a precursor to twentieth century family drama, and explicates the role of other characters in the central story. CONTRIBUTORS DIANE ALMEIDA is on the faculty of the division of Communication and Theatre Arts at the University of Massachusetts, Boston, where she has directed several productions, the last being Fog by Louis E. Roberts. Dr. Almeida has published several articles on Latino and Spanish theatre and literature. She is currently working on a book, Ramon del Valle-Inc/an and the Esperpento Tradition in the Films of Luis Bunuel, Carlos Saura, and Pedro Almodovar. CHERYL BLACK is a doctoral candidate in Theatre History, Theory, and Criticism at the University of Maryland College Park. RICHARD DELLAMORA, Acting Director of the Graduate Program in Methodologies at Trent University and a former Visiting Fellow at Princeton and the University of Western Ontario, is the author of Apocalyptic Overtures: Sexual Politics and the Sense of an Ending (Rutgers, 1994) and Masculine Desire: The Sexual Politics of Victorian Aestheti- cism (University of North Carolina Press, 1990) and co-editor of The Work of Opera: Genre, Nationhood, and Sexual Difference (Columbia University Press, 1997). Dellamora lives in Toronto, Canada. He wrote this essay while a Trent University Research Fellow. AMELIA HowE KRITZER, currently an independent scholar, has taught at West Virginia University and Indiana University. She has published Plays by Early American Women, 1775- 1850 (University of Michigan Press, 1995) and The Plays of Caryl Churchill: Theatre of Empowerment (Macmillan, London, and St. Martin's Press, 1991), as well as essays and reviews in numerous journals and edited collections. As a 104 specialist in women dramatists, she has directed plays by Caryl Churchill, Tina Howe, and Grace Livingston Furniss. jAMES R. STACY, an assistant professor of theatre at Northwest- ern State University of Louisiana, has directed two produc- tions of Buried Child, one at NSU and one at Northern Kentucky State University. The latter was selected for regional presentation in the American College Theatre Festival in 1981. Stacy holds a Ph.D. from New York University. 105 The Journal of American Drama The widely acclaimed journal devoted solely to drama and theatre in the USA- past and present. Provocative, thoughtful articles by the leading scholars of our time providing invaluable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Edited by Vera Mowry Roberts . Published three times per year - $12 per annum ($18.00 foreign). 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Joie de (Sur) Vivre: Germaine Tillion's Artistic Representation of Experiences in Ravensbrück Concentration Camp in The Operetta "Le Verfügbar Aux Enfers"
The International Journal of Conflict & Reconciliation