The short stories Steve Hauk is currently writing about John Steinbeck take place in Monterey, Pacific Grove, and Salinas, California, the area where the author of The Grapes of Wrath spent more than half his life. A former newspaper reporter, like Steinbeck, Steve has an ear for dialog and an eye for detail ideally suited to his subject. That isn’t surprising. In addition to short stories, he writes stage plays and articles about fine art. The setting of his latest story—read here by the actor and writer Alan Brasington—is an antique store in modern-day Salinas, California, the town where Steinbeck was born in 1902. In it, Lily—the antique store’s owner—relives a terrifying time in the 1930s when the author feared for his safety because of his writing. Why? Following the death of his parents, Steinbeck moved on from the dark humor and social satire of his first published short stories, The Pastures of Heaven, and Tortilla Flat, his first popular novel, to three books that would rouse his enemies and assure his fame: In Dubious Battle, Of Mice and Men, and The Grapes of Wrath. Although almost as different from one another as they are from Steinbeck’s short stories, the novels share a common theme and setting: the mistreatment of migrant workers in Depression-era California. Did the violent event recounted in “Lily” really happen? Readers of Steve’s short stories who live in Salinas, California, certainly remember the aging antique-store owner who narrates the incident: several have said so in comments made when the story was published. Approaching 90, Steve’s character is still haunted by the thought that a child could have been killed—along with John Steinbeck—at a Sunday picnic in East Salinas, California, arranged by friends. Like John Steinbeck, the real Lily is dead, but she finds a clear channel in Steve—a resident of nearby Pacific Grove who is familiar with Salinas, California—and in Alan, who once owned an antique store near Kingston, New York. Enjoy Steve Hauk’s “Lily” read by Alan Brasington below.
“Lily” Live from Short Stories About John Steinbeck Set in and Near Salinas, California
“John and the River” Audio: Alan Brasington Reads from Steve’s Hauk’s Short Stories About Young John Steinbeck
Steve Hauk’s short stories about John Steinbeck’s life in Monterey, Pacific Grove, and Salinas, California comprise a work in progress. When we posted “John and the River,” Steve’s story attracted the attention of local readers familiar with Steinbeck’s Salinas, California childhood from memories handed down by parents, grandparents, or friends who knew John Steinbeck and his family. We thought such interest called for something more than text: Steve’s short stories about Steinbeck’s Salinas, California boyhood and early years in Pacific Grove deserved to heard as well as printed. So we reached out to an actor-singer we know in New York and asked him to record “John and the River” for SteinbeckNow.com. His name is Alan Brasington, and he also writes short stories about children. As it happens, he reads about Steinbeck’s Salinas, California with familiarity as well as feeling. Although trained in London and living on the East Coast, he travels frequently and enjoys visiting the places in Pacific Grove, Monterey, and Salinas, California where Steinbeck started before making his Manhattan move. More important, Alan’s heart and ear are tuned to the voices of imaginative, independent children like John Steinbeck, growing up in alien worlds like Salinas, California in times of greater conformity. Enjoy “John and the River” read by Alan Brasington below.
John Steinbeck in New Short Stories by Steve Hauk: “Lily”
Lily had a little antique and junk shop a half block off Main Street. She also had a thick head of wavy white hair that she brushed up and back like a lion’s mane. The store was as neat and clean as Lily herself, who shone with a healthy scrubbed look. Her strong jaw and high cheekbones were set off by distant, light gray eyes and straight white teeth.
Lily opened the shop shortly after her husband Len died from a stroke at age sixty-seven, and it became her life’s center. She went into the shop almost daily to fill the loneliness—sometimes, if the sadness was upon her, opening on Sundays after church. Lily’s shop traded in old furniture, tools and small farm implements, saddles and fancy bridles, quilts, and framed vintage photographs from the Victorian era. Glass cases contained old post cards, yo-yos, and Dell and DC comics.
On the counter she kept a plastic container of red licorice sticks for five cents each. But when adults came in with children, she’d give the children a free licorice to keep them happy and allow their parents to browse. Anyway, she liked children. She even kept a full water bowl for dogs.
Now and then something valuable would come into the shop—a fine painting, a painted antique six-board chest, a rare piece of art glass, something like that. Lily was not lazy about researching such interesting acquisitions. If she thought it might be special but wasn’t sure, she kept it in the back room until she was. After all, hardly a day went by that a runner or picker didn’t stop in hope of picking off a valuable piece Lily had undervalued and thereby make a killing reselling it in San Francisco or Los Angeles.
Lily acquired some of her inventory at yard sales and farm bankruptcy auctions. But most of the merchandise came through the front door with people in need of money toting items important and dear to them.
Oddly, there was one item Lily didn’t want to see come through the door—books. She especially dreaded books by a particular author, yet they came in often because the author had not only been prolific, he had been born and raised—and so heavily read—in this very town, Salinas, in California.
Even if the seller didn’t have a book by that writer to sell to Lily, the possibility one of his books might be among the offerings invariably got her remembering again. This was something she didn’t want to do—it always led to a repeat of the series of nightmares that had haunted her in her younger years.
A telephone call had led to this dark incident, which would stay with Lily all her life, taking her back to a time in the late 1930s when there was to be a gathering, a reunion of thirty or so high school classmates. Two couples came up with the idea over too many beers at a bar in East Salinas; tipsy, they made late-night phone calls, and the event was set.
The reunion was to be held in a town park on a spring Sunday afternoon. They would eat and drink and talk about what had been going on in their lives. The participants wanted the writer John to be a part of the gathering. He had, after all, been a member of their graduating class. But John had not been seen in Salinas since his parents died.
“He thought there were people in Salinas who might do him harm because of what he wrote and was writing, which is one reason he lived over on the coast. At least that was the story,’’ Lily told a listener decades ago, just a few years before her death in the very chair in which she sat recalling the incident.
“To tell the truth, we felt John had deserted us for those snooty coast people and we were hurt. The folks here have long resented those folks on the coast with their golf courses and big houses and ocean views while over here we lay down manure and grow most of their food for them. I can tell you that the animosity was especially deep in those days.’’
Lily was probably closing in on ninety at the time she told her story. She was sitting at her desk, the sun shining through the shop’s front window, remembering. As she spoke, she absently watched the cars passing by.
“John and I had been close in high school, not sweethearts or anything, you understand, but we liked each other and kidded around a lot. We were both big, awkward kids, maybe that had something to do with it. He was a big fellow, I was a big girl. He called me Lil’. He was a funny guy, fun to be with, not so serious as people made out.
“Anyway, everyone said, `Lily, you call him, you call John and tell him about our little get-together reunion, he will listen to you. You can talk anyone into anything.‘ And that was almost the truth—I can be pretty damn persuasive. `If you tell him he should come, then he will. Remind him he was our class president and we want him here. It’s only right.’
“So I called his house on the coast and Carol answered—she was his first wife and didn’t know me from boo—and she seemed pretty suspicious, maybe because I was a woman and everyone said back then I had a sexy voice, so someone who didn’t know me might actually think I was pretty. Word was John and Carol were on the outs, or close to it. Well, she didn’t have to worry about me. I was not pretty and I was perfectly happy with my Len.
“When I told her why I was calling she said she didn’t think there was much chance of John coming to Salinas, but she put him on the phone anyway. He said, `Hi, Lil’, how are you?’ He was cautious at first and that surprised me because it wasn’t like the John I knew. But as we chatted he loosened up and we started talking about high school and that stuff.
“He even asked about Len and our kids and I asked him about his writing, which of course we had all been reading about in the newspapers anyway. He said to forget those stories, it was all balderdash, he was still struggling and, if he had his way, would always struggle because it was good for him. When I steered the talk to how things were going in Salinas, he got real quiet real quick.‘’
Lily paused for a moment, nervously rubbing her hands together. She continued reluctantly, not looking at her listener.
“Well, so then I got around to telling him why I called, you know, the reunion and all. He said right away, `Sorry, Lil’, I can’t make it. Thanks for asking.’ But just like me,’’ she added ruefully, “I kept after him.’’
“I said, `John, we all know you think people are mad here about what you’ve been saying and writing, about the field workers and the working conditions and all, but we think you’re imagining a lot of it. Sure there are some crabby people, a lot of old curmudgeons so dried up they can’t spit, and some selfish growers just after the buck, but frankly most of us agree things need to be better. We don’t think you should let the crabby ones keep you away. It’s your home too after all.’
“Well, he still resisted, said it wasn’t that . . . though we all knew it was. So I played my hole card; I played to his ego. I told him we were all excited about his success and wanted our wives and husbands and children to meet the famous writer we’d gone to school with, and maybe at the same time he’d like to keep up with what all of us were doing.
“Of course nobody was writing anything about us, but most of us were doing OK. My husband Len’s western wear store was doing very well, for one. John was excited about that. He said, `Good old Len, he has always had the eye. He picked you out, after all. You’ll soon be rich, Lil’. I predict it.’ ‘’
Lily looked around the shop.
“Len’s store was in this very space, did you know that? The place back then was called Len and Lily’s Western Paraphernalia Store. Len picked that unwieldy name paraphernalia on purpose—he said it would encourage people to use their dictionaries. And once they got the word paraphernalia in their heads they’d always think of us. We did very well, so maybe he was right. When Len died I kept the space, but it wasn’t long before I turned it into this shop because I didn’t like dealing with haberdashery wholesalers—that was Len’s job. I’ve always loved old things anyway. Kept the same sign and had Western Paraphernalia Store painted out and Antiques and Etcetera Shop painted in so it says Len and Lily’s Antique and Etcetera Shop. I figured people could look up etcetera just like they looked up paraphernalia. Anyway, etcetera covers a lot of things.’’
Lily started to light a cigarette, but her hands were shaking so she dropped the idea and set the cigarette and lighter on the desk.
“Len would laugh if he could see he’s dealing in antiques now. Well, we still have some western things, like that hand-tooled saddle in the window, and now and then I buy a nice rhinestone shirt or beaver Stetson from a broke cowboy, and there are plenty of them around.’’
Lily stood slowly and walked to a worn velvet burgundy curtain that divided the shop from a back room. She turned and said, slowly and sadly, “I don’t know if I could count how many times I wish John had said no to me and hadn’t made it to the reunion. But he didn’t say no and he did come and you can’t take any of it back once it happens. Amazing how long in life it takes us to figure that out.’’
Then she disappeared through the curtain, returning minutes later carrying a shoebox tied up with string. She was breathing heavily. “I had to reach up high,’’ she explained. “Need to buy a ladder.’’
Lily set the box on her desktop, snipping the string with a pair of scissors and pulling out a handful of old photographs. She handed them carefully to her listener.
“Those are photographs of the reunion. They’re faded but you can still make out children playing tag or hide ‘n seek, adults drinking and eating. Must have been forty of us at final count. You can spot John in three or four of those, big guy with big ears, holding a beer. And he was happy when those pictures were being taken—about his next book, about seeing people he liked, including Len and me I hope.
“I think the only thing he wasn’t happy about was Carol. He hadn’t brought her even though we wanted her to come. Maybe he left her behind because he was worried about her safety. He knew there was a risk. But he didn’t seem nervous like he‘d seemed over the phone. I think those beers he had probably helped. And I think he believed me. I think he thought if I said it would be alright, it would.’’
Lily closed her distant gray eyes for a moment and said, “But it happened anyway.’’
“What happened?’’ her listener asked after a few moments of silence.
“Well, the white truck,’’ said Lily. “The white pickup truck happened. Came out of nowhere, a white Ford pickup truck. Jumped the curb onto the picnic grounds. A truck with big headlights like cartoon eyes. You used to see them up and down the valley. Everyone had one. I’ll never forget those headlight eyes coming at us even though it was still daytime and the street lights weren’t on. It seemed like a living thing. I think we all sensed what it was, especially John. The bastards could have killed a child. I think about that, what might have happened to a child all because of a telephone call I made.’’
“They were after John?’’
“Oh, yes. Oh yes, oh yes. They must have known ahead of time. I always wondered about that, how they knew—still do. There were two of them. The one with a gun, a revolver, threw John against a tree with the gun under his throat. Len moved in, some of the other men, but by then it was too dangerous, what with the gun at John’s throat, so they backed off.
“The one without the gun, he said, `You write one more ‘effin word about field workers and we’ll blow your ‘effin head off!’ John’s face was red and he was clenching his fists and we all yell at one time, I don’t know how it happened but we did, as if we’d rehearsed it for a week, `John, don’t move! Don’t move a muscle!’ Then Len said, stepping up, `We know you boys, anything happens to John . . . . ‘
“And they screamed at Len he was an ‘effin moron just like John. But they wouldn’t have said that if they hadn’t had a gun, no sir, and everyone knew it. Len would have mopped up the fairgrounds with them. And they knew that too. So they pushed John back and got in the truck and drove away real quick.’’
Lily’s hands were shaking from the memory, but she lit her cigarette anyway and again looked out the window at the cars passing by.
“So that’s what happened more or less,’’ she said finally.
“Did Len really know the guys?’’
“That was an inspiration by my Len. Nobody knew them. They were hired thugs, that’s all. But Len put the worry in them. Maybe saved John’s life.’’
“You notify the police?’’
“We wanted to, but John said no, he didn’t want us to, he already had enough troubles with crooks and growers and the law. Anyway, the Salinas law didn’t like him, and what were we going to say anyway? ‘Two guys we never saw before in a white pickup truck like a hundred others. Oh, and officers, nobody got a license number either!’ So we gathered our kids around us and sat quietly for a while, calming John with one more beer, him apologizing to everyone like it was all his fault.
“Next day, a Monday, guess what John did? Applied for a gun permit—in Monterey, not Salinas.’’
“Did you ever see John again?’’
Lily looked at the man and then at the front door of the shop.
“Sure, all the time, honey. Still do see him in fact. See him in my nightmares after someone walks through that door with a pile of books. I’ll see him tonight for sure.’’
“Lily” is one of a series of short stories being written by Steve Hauk based on little-known but dramatic events in the life of John Steinbeck. The stories are inspired by actual incidents, but characters and events are added, as in any work of fiction. There are some exceptions, pure surmises based on anecdotes and reminisces, such as “John and the River,” in an attempt to capture character. Steve’s working title for the collection of short stories is “Almost True Stories from a Writer’s Life.”
From Short Stories about John Steinbeck by Steve Hauk: “John and the River”
John sat by the front parlor window reading from a book of Bret Harte stories while his mother Olive gardened in the backyard. Olive dug around the turnips to loosen the dark soil. She cut back the red and white chrysanthemums casting shadows against the frame house in the morning sun. Olive wore a straw sun hat and canvas gardening gloves. She stooped vigorously to her work, as she did everything, digging and snipping.
John’s head jerked when he heard a clink on the front window. Then another. He glanced at the window. He frowned and tried to concentrate on his book because he had just read, “He heard a wolf howl, then he looked up and saw a mule in the distance.’’ John wanted to stay in this man’s world. He wanted to know if the man was in danger from the wolf, or perhaps, more alarming to John, the mule was in danger, or maybe they both were. But there was another clink as a pebble struck the glass, and another, and then he heard Herb’s voice.
“John! John!”
It was early summer, and John had turned twelve several months earlier. He was now impatiently waiting to be thirteen, when he felt sure his life would finally change for the better. He would, by then he hoped, gain some control over his clumsy body and awkwardness. Until then he would do a lot of reading if his friend Herb would leave him to it, but it didn’t seem Herb would.
“John! John!’’ Herb called in a soft voice. Herb was wary of alerting Olive in the backyard. He was a little afraid of Olive. John set the book down, keeping his place with an oak leaf he inserted between the pages he was reading. He came out onto the porch, carefully closing the door quietly behind him.
Herb looked up at John, waiting, his hands on his hips, a baseball mitt hooked onto his belt. Herb was small but wiry strong, and had rolled his blue jeans up to his knees – which Herb thought made his pants look like the wool flannels Babe Ruth wore when he came up to bat at Yankee Stadium. Alice, who was John’s age, stood by Herb, and a little bit off John saw his sister Mary, who was Herb’s age, ten.
Alice wore a light green summer dress with white sneakers and Mary had on her favorite denim coveralls and lace up boots. Summer mornings Mary was often out and about before John even got up. John noticed dirt on the front of his sister’s coveralls, suggesting she had already gotten into a scrape or fallen climbing a tree. Mary wore coveralls for a good reason.
“Come on, John, it’s almost ten o’clock, let’s head out!’’ Herb said in a hoarse whisper.
“Can’t, Herb, I told mother I’d read and study this morning,’’ John said.
“Come down off the porch, John,’’ Alice said slowly. “She won’t mind if you come do something. It’s summer after all.’’
Although John liked Alice and thought she was pretty with her yellow hair and dark blue eyes, the way she talked and looked at him often made him even more aware of his clumsiness and large ears. He never knew what to say to Alice, so usually he said nothing and just looked away.
“We’re going to the park!’’ said Herb, looking from one to the other. “If there’s a baseball game maybe we can play. Alice and Mary said they’d watch.’’
“Mother wouldn’t like it. Mary, you know I’d catch hell from mother.’’
Mary shrugged. But she knew it was true that her brother might get in trouble. Olive always let Mary get away with more than John even though she was younger and a girl. This worried her a little bit. Herb made a face of disgust.
“Aw, come on, John,’’ he said, remembering to keep his voice down. “Make a break for freedom. I want to play some ball. The Babe hit two homers last night.’’
John peeked around the side of the porch to see if his mother was coming. To his relief she wasn’t.
“Herb, you know I’m not good at baseball yet,’’ John said.
“What do you mean yet?’’ said Herb.
“I’ll probably be good when I’m thirteen, when I’ve grown into my body,’’ John said. “That’s what father says – I have grown very fast and my body has some catching up to do. When it does I’ll be okay. That’s the way it was with him.’’
“That doesn’t make sense,’’ said Herb. “I haven’t had to catch up to my body and I’m good at baseball.’’
“You’re small, Herb, it’s a different thing,’’ Mary said. “If John isn’t good at sports yet, it’s because of what he said – he’s the biggest boy his age in Salinas.’’
“Who wants to play baseball anyway?’’ Alice said, looking at John still standing on the porch. “When a boy grows so much so fast like John has, strange things can happen to his body, isn’t that so, John?’’
John didn’t know what to say.
“Well,’’ said Herb, “if we can’t play baseball, maybe we can go across the tracks to Chinatown.’’
John looked at Herb and decided to come down the porch steps.
“I wouldn’t mind going to Chinatown,’’ he said.
“John, if mother found out I went to Chinatown she’d lock me up for the whole summer,’’ Mary said. “You know that.’’
“I’d go to Chinatown with you, John,’’ said Alice.
“Sure, we can make fun of the old men,’’ said Herb. “Ching-Chong Chinaman! Ching-Chong Chinaman!’’
“I wouldn’t do that, Herb, make fun of the old Chinese men,’’ said John.
“Because of the Tong? Because the Tong would get after us?’’ said Herb, who had been reading a detective magazine story about secret societies, including the Tong.
“Well, I don’t know about the Tong, Herb. I don’t think there are any Tong in Salinas. But Andy made fun of an old Chinaman just last week in Monterey, down by the sardine canneries, and boy was he sorry.’’
“What happened?’’
“The old man looked at him! That’s what Andy said – stared right at him!‘’
“That’s all? Just stared at him?’’
“Not just – Andy said he looked right through him, so Andy thought he’d been hit in the gut with a basket of fish or something. And you know, Andy’s a pretty tough guy.’’
“Basket of fish?’’ said Herb, thinking it over. “Is that like a Chinese hex?’’
“The old man just looked at him, that’s all. Andy said all he could see was the old man’s sad, dark eyes.’’
“That’s a hex!’’ Herb said triumphantly.
“I don’t think the Chinese have hexes,’’ John said patiently. He found he usually had to be patient with Herb, because once Herb got an idea into his head he had a hard time letting it go. If Herb thought there were Tong, there had to be Tong.
“I don’t care if it was or it wasn’t a hex, or if there are Tong or there aren’t Tong,’’ said Alice. “I just want to do something. Let’s go on a picnic.’’
“Where, Alice? Where would you like to go for a picnic?’’ John said. He was glad that Alice changed the subject, since Herb certainly wasn’t going to.
“Somewhere there won’t be adults telling us what to do, that’s for sure, maybe down by the Salinas River. If we stand around doing nothing and arguing all day soon the summer will be over. We can hide in the rushes by the river and swim, and you know.’’
“Swim naked?’’ Mary asked bluntly.
“Well, that’s not what I meant, but I don’t care. I might if I feel like it. You can if you want. Who would be there to stop us?’’
“Mary isn’t going to swim naked,’’ said John.
“I wouldn’t, don’t you worry, John, because they say the snakes are coming out now,’’ said Mary. “A man was bit near the river by San Ardo. I wouldn’t want to be bit when I was naked.’’
“Who says a man was bit by a snake?’’ said Herb.
“It was in the newspaper this morning, on the front page, father read it aloud before going to work. John wasn’t up yet,’’ said Mary.
“I didn’t know about that,’’ said John.
“They said the man was a raggedy hobo from who knows where. He was passing through and stopped to camp and eat by the river and was bit by a rattlesnake. Maybe two or three rattlesnakes because there were bites on his arms and legs.’’
They were all quiet for a moment, looking at each other and breathing softly as they thought about snakes and snakebites. Then John remembered something he had read once.
“Well, it’s true the snakes are probably there, but it’s nothing new – they’ve been coming down to the Salinas River for at least a million years, maybe more, way before there were people to get in the way, coming out of the hills in the late spring and summer to beat the heat and get some water. But if we’re careful and Alice still wants to go on a picnic . . . .‘’
“I don’t know,’’ said Herb. “If a hobo was bitten . . . .‘’
“Well, San Ardo’s pretty far from here, more than fifty miles I think,‘’ John said. “It would take those snakes a couple weeks to make it up here. And we could look for frogs. You like looking for frogs, don’t you, Herb?’’
“Sure, but so do rattlesnakes, I’d guess, especially plump little frogs and fat little tadpoles. And I’d suppose we have our own rattlesnakes here in Salinas whatever you say.’’
“Well, if you don’ want to,’’ said John.
“I didn’t say that,’’ said Herb, not wanting to seem afraid. “I guess I’d go down to the river if you and the girls are game. Anyway, it is a lot hotter down by San Ardo than here in Salinas, don’t you think? So maybe there won’t be any snakes up here until it gets hotter.’’
“Maybe that’s so, certainly not as many,’’ John nodded, even though he knew that might not be the truth. “Mother talks about how hot it used to be when she was a girl growing up down there.’’
“Did your mother swim naked in the river?’’ asked Alice.
“I don’t think so,’’ said John. “I don’t think mother would do that.’’
“They said his body was stiff and sprawled out like this!’’
“What body?’’ said Herb.
“The hobo’s,’’ continued Mary. “They said his body was stiff with his arms this way and he was found with his mouth open and his tongue sticking out to the side, like this,’’ and Mary stuck out her tongue, then pulled it back so she could talk some more.
“And I don’t want that to happen to me, no thank you. There was an open can of baked beans on the ground, too, but the beans had spilled out onto the ground and maybe the snakes ate some.’’
“Did the newspaper say that?’’ John said. “That the snake ate some beans?’’
“No, I just thought it up,’’ said Mary, who stooped over to tie a loose shoelace. “Who’d know anyway if a snake ate a bean?’’
“Was the hobo dead?’’ said Herb, who was worried all over again.
“Of course he was dead! What do you think we have been talking about? You think his tongue would be sticking out like this,’’ and Mary stuck her tongue out and pulled it back again, “if he wasn’t dead? Do you think he would have left a can of beans that cost ten cents on the ground if he wasn’t dead?’’
They thought about Mary’s last question and what they could do with ten cents and then Alice declared, “Yes, I think he must have been dead.’’
“That’s a nice story, Mary. I like that story,’’ John said after a moment.
“A nice story?’’ Alice was shocked. “Someone’s mouth like this with his tongue sticking out isn’t nice, John. I wouldn’t want to kiss anyone with a mouth like that, would you?’’
“Well, maybe his mouth wasn’t nice,’’ said John.
“So his body being stiff? That was nice?’’
“There was just something about the way Mary told her story, that’s all. I like the way Mary tells stories. She acts them out.’’
“She got the story from a newspaper reporter so I don’t see what the excitement is about.’’
“The newspaper reporter didn’t act it out. He didn’t stick out his tongue. That was Mary’s doing.’’
“I might be an actress someday. I’m seriously thinking about it,’’ said Mary, who enjoyed being the center of attention and being flattered by her brother.
“You never said that before, Mary, that you wanted to be an actress,’’ John said.
“I just started thinking about it, John.’’
“Oh.’’
They were all quiet for some time, thinking about what they might grow up to be – except for Herb, who had decided a long time ago he wanted to have his own gasoline station on Main Street, so there was no reason to waste time thinking about that anymore. Then Herb had another thought.
“I thought you said you couldn’t go anywhere today, John.’’
“Well, going to the river, that’s a different thing than playing baseball. I like the Salinas River and I’ll tell you why. The Salinas River is one of only two rivers in the whole world that flows from south to north, and guess what the other one is – the River Nile in Egypt! And here’s something else. Flowing from south to north must really be important, because the Salinas Valley and the Valley Nile are the two most fertile valleys in the world.’’
“Really?’’ said Herb, impressed. “The most fertile?’’
“Yes,’’ said John.
“You read that?’’
“Yes.’’
“In a book?’’
“In two books and a magazine.’’
Herb had to admit the information John could come up with knocked him over sometimes. Herb knew how many homers the Babe hit but nothing about the habits of snakes or the directions rivers flowed.
“And they both really flow south to north?’’ he asked just to make sure.
“Yep.’’
“So the Salinas Valley is like Egypt?’’
“Well, we don’t have pyramids or pharaohs, but when it comes to lettuce and strawberries, I guess so.’’
“I’d like some strawberries,’’ said Alice.
“Too bad we can’t turn the other rivers in the world around and make them go from south to north,’’ said Herb. “We could grow more crops around the world and make a lot of money.’’
“It seems that way,’’ John said. “So I was thinking, Herb – so we can go to the river and watch the water flow from south to north which is a rare sight that you can only see here or in Egypt – I was thinking maybe we could come up with a story . . . .’’
“A story?’’ said Herb suspiciously.
“So mother would let me go. So I was thinking you could tell Mother you need to do a summer book report, and you want me to go to the library and help you select a book because you’re only ten . . . .’’
“I don’t know,’’ said Herb.
“She might think that’s OK.‘’
“And we’d really go to the river – is that what you mean? That’s a pretty complicated lie, John.’’
“It won’t really be a lie, Herb. We really will go to the library first to find a book. We did it before. We just won’t tell her the river part.’’
“We did it before?’’
“Sure, remember I picked out Huckleberry Finn for you last summer?’’
“Oh sure, I remember – ,’’ said Herb, spitting on the ground. “I remember getting in trouble for reading it because I was only nine!’’
“But we’d still be going to the river for a picnic, wouldn’t we, John? Not just to the library?’’ said Alice.
“We’ll go to the river after we go to the library. And don’t worry, we’ll look out for snakes. I’ll bring a snake stick. Maybe you and Mary could scrape up some food and some sodas.’’
Herb shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He looked toward the back of the house. “I don’t know, John. Your mom’s a schoolteacher and she’s smart too. She looks right through me, like that Chinaman did to Andy. Some moms you can get away with stuff, not your mom.’’
At that moment Olive came around the side of the house, taking off her gardening gloves and putting them in the basket as she walked toward the children. She pushed the sun hat back on her head and smiled at the children and then looked at the sky, shielding her eyes with her hand before looking down at Herb.
“I’m not so tough, Herbert Henderson,’’ said Olive. “Don’t I give you oatmeal cookies?’’
“Yes, ma’am!’’ said Herb, amazed that John and Mary’s mother always seemed to know what was going on. Either she had ears like an elephant or she was a mind reader. She would, Herb thought, be a match for the Tong.
“And don’t I tell your mother you are always welcome at our house?’’
“Yes, ma’am, you sure do!’’
“Well, then, don’t tell untrue stories. You are one of the few boys I allow to play with John. I hope you’re not learning bad behavior from him. I do worry about you children. Why, hello, Alice.’’
“Hello, Mrs. Steinbeck,’’ said Alice with a slight curtsey.
“Aren’t you pretty! Mary, do you see how pretty Alice looks in her green summer dress and white sneakers? Doesn’t she look nice?’’
Mary looked at Alice and then at her own boots and dirty coveralls – she’d already taken a fall in a vacant lot tripping over a board and it wasn’t noon yet. She nodded, looking at the ground. It bothered Mary when her mother compared her to other girls.
“Well, since you’re all here feel free to have something to eat in the kitchen. We have lemonade and cold pickles. John and Mary will help you.’’
“Mother?’’
“Yes, John?’’
“Herb’s been assigned a summer book report – ‘’
“Have you, Herbert? Well, summer’s a time for learning, too. We shouldn’t forget that.’’
“Yes, ma’am,’’ Herb muttered.
“So I thought I might help him choose a book – like I did last summer.’’
“Oh, yes, I recall that turned out very well,’’ said Olive, her smile fading.
“I thought maybe something by Bret Harte this time – his tales of California maybe.’’
“Yes, that sounds safer than Huckleberry Finn.’’
“I’d go to the library with Herb. We’d find the book best for him.’’
“What a delightful idea, the two of you reading together in the library! Would Alice and Mary accompany you?’’
“Yes, ma’am,’’ said John just as, at the same time, Herb and Alice were saying, `No, ma’am.’’
Only Mary, aware of the traps her mother could set, had the good sense to wait before saying anything. To make double sure she would keep her mouth shut, she bit her lower lip as she shoved her hands deep into her coverall pockets.
Olive pulled herself up very straight, looming over all of the children except John, who was almost as tall as his mother.
“Children, as John and Mary will tell you, I grew up on a farm at the foot of the mountains not far from San Ardo. Most every summer the rattlesnakes came down from the hills to find water in the riverbed. I have seen cattle staggered and killed by the bite of a rattlesnake. Yes, large beef cattle felled by a single bite. I’m sure you heard about that hobo found dead yesterday on the riverbank. No one knows where he comes from so he will be given a pauper’s grave with a simple cross to mark his passing. Our church congregation, including John and Mary, will pray for his soul this Sunday. This poor hobo had no home, but now he will, with the Lord.’’
Olive waited a moment, gently looking at each child with her soft green eyes, giving her speech time to settle in. This is what she did when she wanted her students to remember something she thought especially important.
“Now Herbert, now Alice, if you’d run along – to your homes, I would suggest, not to the river to swim, with clothes on or otherwise. It is too dangerous at this time of the year, as we have seen. Will you do this for me?’’
She looked at them again and Herb and Alice met her eyes for a second then nodded. Herb realized there was nothing that could be hidden from John and Mary’s mother.
“And if I might mention, John and Mary have duties and studies to attend to this summer, not roaming around Salinas. John will have plenty of time for that when he gets older. I hope Mary never does. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll all get together again when school resumes.’’
Herb and Alice glanced up at John, who looked at his shoes, then over at Mary, who pretended to be looking at the porch. Then Herb and Alice left, walking stiffly down the sidewalk as if in a little two-person parade because they knew they were being watched. John’s eyes followed them until they were out of sight and wondered what they would do the rest of the day. Maybe they would go to Chinatown or maybe the city park, he thought. He knew they wouldn’t likely go to the Salinas River without him. Olive looked at her children and leaned down and kissed each on the forehead.
“Don’t concentrate so hard, you’ll hurt yourselves,’’ she said with just the flicker of a smile. “Mary, you can help me in the garden if you wish. Your coveralls already have mud on the knees so we won’t have to worry about getting them dirty. John, after lunch Mary and I will have you retell us the story you are reading, will you? From what you were saying this morning, it sounds like a good one. I want to know what happens.’’
John watched as his mother and little sister walked to the backyard, then climbed the porch steps to go inside and finish reading his story. He wanted to know what happened to the man and the mule in the distance who had heard a wolf howl. He hoped their fate would be better than the poor hobo’s by the river.
“John and the River” is one of a series of short stories being written by Steve Hauk based on little-known but dramatic events in the life of John Steinbeck. The stories are inspired by actual incidents, but characters and events are added, as in any work of fiction. There are some exceptions, pure surmises based on anecdotes and reminisces, such as “John and the River,” in an attempt to capture character. Steve’s working title for the collection of short stories is “Almost True Stories from a Writer’s Life.”
A Mild Concussion: A Play in Two Acts by Steve Hauk
Major creators, whether in the arts or sciences, are often victims of their own creativity. Literary work is plagiarized, inventions are stolen. The creative force behind television, Philo Farnsworth, is one example of the latter. The computer age is no exception. Stories are legion of ideas stolen or plagiarized. In most cases the usurpers are not particularly creative but adept at business and gaining an edge, while the creators are often inept when it comes to the world of business, or simply not interested. There have been exceptions to this, Thomas Edison among them. This play is about a creative genius lacking the ruthlessness to rank profit over an idealistic outlook. In some ways he sets himself up for failure, which is no reason that he should be exploited. The play is very loosely based on something that really happened, but does not pretend in any way to be a history. As I write early in the directions, “all is in doubt.” Yet not quite all is. There is no doubt Ryan was brilliant and idealistic and that he was exploited and eventually destroyed. If it was in part through his own character flaws, it was as much through those who preyed on him for their own profit and glorification.
A Mild Concussion
The Rapid Rise and Long Fall
of an Idealistic Computer Genius
A play in two acts
by Steve Hauk
Copyright © 2014 by Steve Hauk. All rights reserved.
Characters:
RYAN, a computer scientist
DONNA, his wife
ROBIN, once worked for Ryan
JOHN PERSONS, a microcomputer entrepreneur
JIM, associate of Ryan’s
FIRST MAN, representing a giant company
SECOND MAN, the same
A YOUNG NURSE
Act One
The First Day
Music. Hard rock. Dancing. Sensual and menacing figures. All
figures except Ryan suggested by shadows. Ryan staggers, falls,
striking his head. He wears jeans, cowboy boots, a vest. This is a
memory play. A slight haze over everything, a surreal quality.
Nothing is absolutely real. Just glimmers of reality and the
perception of what might or might not have been. All is in doubt.
A siren. Figures _ shadows or silhouettes _ gather around Ryan’s
body. He struggles to his knees. Siren dies out. Figures back
away. Then the figure of a woman approaches; Ryan holds out
his hand, she takes it. He stands.
Blackout. Music stops. Lighting up to indicate the spare
representation of a living room, a few pieces of furniture, a small
bar. Ryan in a chair, his eyes closed. No longer wearing the vest.
The same woman sits by him, holds a damp cloth to his forehead.
Ryan is in his early fifties. He is slim, roughly handsome. Until a
year or two ago he was in fine physical condition, but since then
he has gone through particularly bad times and shows it _ some
darkness under his eyes _ which can still sparkle at times with a
high degree of intelligence and humor _ gauntness in his face,
and a slowness of movement brought on by the fall he has just
taken, and alcoholism.
She _ Robin _ is a woman in her early forties, attractive. She is
dressed for an evening out of respectable club and/or bar-hoping
_ but the night has dragged on excessively and punishingly and
she and her clothing show it.
On the periphery, in their own light and surrounded by shadow,
two men in suits, standing together; Jim and Donna, standing
together; John Persons, alone; the Nurse, alone.
A suspended window indicates darkness. The outside lighting will
move toward dawn at the end of the first act.
ROBIN (To audience): Ryan makes me think of a bird called
killdeer. He’s wounded _ in many ways _ and the Killdeer is a bird
which continually plays the wounded creature . . . This time,
though, Ryan is truly wounded, and that also eventually happens
to the killdeer . . . (Smiles.) Of course.
DONNA: I’m not surprised Ryan found a woman to take care of
him _ he was always good at that. God knows, I did it long
enough and helped him to achieve what he achieved. Isn’t that
what the first spouse always does? And then is thrown aside?
(Pause.) But he’s a gifted man . . . and sometimes I miss him,
especially his humor.
ROBIN: I hadn’t seen him for years, more than two decades.
Then, last night, I saw him on the floor of a local club, after a
terrible fall _ that’s what they think it might have been, a fall. It
could have been something else. There will probably be an
investigation. He opened his eyes, all these people around _
and recognized me! I couldn’t believe it. After all those years.
DONNA: Ryan died two days after the fall.
NURSE: He had been misdiagnosed . . . If they had brought me in
a little earlier . . . well, I take it back _ if the doctors missed it,
who’s to say I wouldn’t have, too . . . On the other hand, who’s to
say I would . . .
JIM: I had the feeling he was dead before he died . . . He gave
away so much in his life . . . it became a habit . . . and then he
gave away his life.
FIRST MAN IN SUIT: That’s meant for us _ his “giving away”
things.
SECOND MAN: Don’t believe it.
FIRST MAN: Slander, grounds for a lawsuit.
A moment, then they all look at Persons.
PERSONS: No comment _ for the moment. (Pause.)
Ryan opens his eyes. Robin removes cloth from
his forehead, looks at him.
ROBIN: Go slowly, please . . . you’re injured.
RYAN: No, I’m . . .
ROBIN (Just noticing): There’s blood, on the back of your head _
where you struck your head. Lift your head, please . . .
She raises his head, dabs at the blood with the
cloth.
RYAN (Pause): I drink . . . An everyday thing . . . What’s a
killdeer?
ROBIN: Oh . . . I thought you were . . .
RYAN: Out?
ROBIN: Yes . . .
RYAN: Well, I was . . . that doesn’t mean . . . (Studies her a
moment): I didn’t _ don’t know _ about this bird . . . Why is it
called a Killdeer?
ROBIN: That’s the sound it makes! `Killdeer! Killdeer!’ Especially
when it flies off after faking an injury.
RYAN (Pause): Why would it do that . . . what you just said _
fake an injury?
ROBIN: Well, it’s a silly bird _ a beautiful bird but a silly bird. It
makes it’s nest on the ground . . . in dunes . . . on a beach. So
very vulnerable, the nest and the eggs, and when they are born,
the chicks . . . If you approach the nest, the parents will limp off,
faking a broken wing or leg or whatever . . . lead you away from
the nest. Amazingly, it works. It would have to or the killdeer . . .
as a species . . . would be extinct.
RYAN: So not so silly.
ROBIN (A beat): No, I guess not completely silly _ when you think
about it. The ruse is clever, the silly part is making its nest on the
ground.
RYAN: Sounds like some people, doesn’t it? . . . Building on flood
plains, earthquake fault lines . . . you name it. . . . Anyway, I may
be silly but I’m not extinct _ yet.
ROBIN: You’re famous.
RYAN: You think so.
ROBN: Oh, sure, cover of Fortune, Time.
RYAN: People say that. I didn’t make Time . . . People imagine
that.
ROBIN: Well, Fortune, Newsweek?
RYAN (Pause): Maybe . . . It all blurs. Long time ago in any case.
(After a moment, looks toward window.) What time is it?
ROBIN: I don’t know . . . Wednesday, approaching dawn . . . very
early . . .
RYAN: This will sound stupid _ really dumb _ but the year? . . .
wait, I know _ 1995?
ROBIN (Smiles): You get an `A.’
RYAN (Thinks a moment, then with a sheepish smile) : I’m afraid I
don’t know the month.
ROBIN: July, late July.
RYAN (Pause.) I apologize for this because I know I should, but
. . . but I’m afraid I don’t know you.
ROBIN (Pause): I worked for you, a long time ago. (Pause.) My
name’s Robin.
RYAN: You worked for me _ the early days?
ROBIN: There were a lot of us; I was one of dozens. No reason
for you to remember me . . . I wasn’t one of the `geniuses’. . . But
you were encouraging. I was young, I didn’t know how rare that
would be _ encouragement. I’ve always appreciated the way you
treated me . . . the others.
RYAN: Thank you . . . I’m in my home? (Smiles.) I mean, it feels
familiar _ is it?
ROBIN (Nods): I drove you here, in your car. You gave me
directions . . . when you could.
RYAN: It was a long haul . . . difficult, I’m sure . . . sorry. Drunk
passenger, no street lights to speak of . . . People get lost trying
to find this place in the daytime . . . sober. (Pause.) So . . . what
happened?
ROBIN: You don’t remember anything?
Ryan starts to stand.
ROBIN: I wouldn’t . . .
RYAN: I need to . . . (He takes a few steps, shaky; she hovers
nearby, at first a hand on his arm.) So, I drank too much . . .
ROBIN: I’m sorry _ did you hear me when I said you struck your head?
RYAN (Somewhat forced blase’): I was drinking _ right? _ and
stumbled . . .
ROBIN: You were drinking, yes _ but add to that, you took a
nasty, heavy fall . . . I really can’t overemphasize . . . I heard the
thud across the room _ over loud music, loud talking . . . We all
did . . . Fifty, sixty people, some drunk . . . I saw you on the floor.
That’s when I recognized you. (Pause.) I really do think we should
get you to a hospital. (Pause.) Since we arrived here you’ve been
talking to people . . . people who are not here.
RYAN: Have I? . . . been doing that lately . . . Anyone in
particular?
ROBIN: Your wife, I mean your first wife . . . Donna . . . she
treated me well, too . . . your children . . . other voices . . .
(Pause.) You don’t remember anything before? . . . An ambulance
was called, you refused attention . . . said you’d be OK.
RYAN: I was with? . . .
ROBIN: You were alone as far as I could tell. (Pause.) Well, no
one claimed you. I just happened to be there. You recognized me
. . . (A beat; a little embarrassed.) . . . then. . . for a moment at
least . . . Held your hand out to me . . . I was surprised you’d
remember me . . .
RYAN: Did I say your name?
ROBIN: No. You didn’t know it . . . I brought you here, to your
home, at your request, since there didn’t seem to be anyone else.
I was happy to do it because . . . Well, you seemed very alone for
. . . (Pause.)
RYAN: For . . . ?
ROBIN: For who . . . whom you are . . . (Pause.) But now . . .
RYAN: Yes?
ROBIN: I don’t think you should have refused medical attention
. . . You should have let them . . . the paramedics . . . take you to
the hospital.
RYAN: Well, I don’t remember and I’m OK . . .
ROBIN: That’s what I thought at first . . . hoped . . . sober you up
_ everything’s fine . . . I’ve done it before _ not with you, other
guys . . . it’s well known you drink . . . but _ you see _ you’ve
been in and out of consciousness . . . several times . . . the last
few hours . . . So I think . . .
RYAN (Simply): It’s happened before.
ROBIN: Has it? . . . . Really?. . . Pass out, come back like that?
Really? . . . I need to tell you, this is the first time you’ve been . . .
conversant.
RYAN (Small smile): With you, you mean?
ROBIN (Also smiles): Right, you’ve been conversant with others,
but not me. (Pause.) And the police _ they’ve called. Several
times. They want to talk to you _ when you’re able.
RYAN (Pause, serious): What do the police want?
ROBIN: To know what happened, naturally . . . Stand still. (She
pushes the hair off his forehead.) I don’t know how you can see
and we don’t want you tripping . . . and because it was . . . violent
. . . your accident . . . and because of who you, who you are . . .
RYAN: Was, you mean, before it all went to hell . . . I’m not
anyone anymore . . . to speak of . . .
He looks at her a moment, attracted, but moves
away.
ROBIN : Where are you going?
RYAN: The bar _ something to hold onto . . . not to drink . . .
ROBIN: You’re talking about . . . it went to hell six, seven years
ago?
RYAN: Around. Little longer. I don’t remember a lot at the best of
times . . . lately . . . a kind of ongoing fog . . . And now . . .
(Pause.) Hey, are you a reporter? . . . (Smiles.) I was on my way
then . . . injured but not faking it, no kill . . . what do you call that
bird?
ROBIN: Killdeer. It’s called a killdeer. A precocial species _ as in
precocious _ chicks born with their eyes open, able to run in
minutes . . . from predators.
RYAN (A beat): No killdeer, not me . . . I get caught . . . Why do I
have a headache?
ROBIN: Well, that fall.
RYAN: Oh, right . . . slipped my mind, not a good sign.
ROBIN (Pause): It was _ what? _ fifteen, twenty years ago you
got the idea?
RYAN (Suspicious): How do you know this?
ROBIN (Smiles to reassure him): I followed your career _ in the
papers, the computer magazines. I’m sure thousands of people
know that.
RYAN: Sorry, you’re right, of course . . . Stupid of me. (Pause.)
I’ve been . . well, no reason, really, to care anymore, what gets
out . . .
ROBIN (Pause): Years later _ about the time you did it and
became famous _ I read a quote by you, “It will change the world
as we know it.” And it did and I thought . . .“I knew him once . . .”
RYAN (Looks at her a moment, smiles): “The computer world as
we know it.”
ROBIN: An operating system to tie all personal computers in the
world into . . . (Genuinely curious.) I’ve always wondered _ do you
mind if I ask? _ if I’d put a few thousand in at that time _ not that I
had it _ what would I be worth today? A million? Ten? Something
like that?
RYAN: But your life would have spiraled downward, Robin. You’d
be a major depression case with the rest of us. The industry is
littered with bodies _ and souls.
ROBIN: You changed the world.
RYAN (Politely correcting): The personal computer world.
ROBIN: Well, almost the same thing.
RYAN (Considers pouring a drink, pushing a glass around bar
surface): But not quite . . . No one remembers anyway.
ROBIN: I do _ was it exciting?
RYAN (A beat _ his natural, broad humor beginning to return,
turning away from the glass): Oh, sure _ most exciting moment in
my life, except the time I visited Niagara Falls. Anyway, your ten
million, that’s stretching it. That’s about what what’s his name
offered me for the whole company a year ago.
ROBIN: Who’s what’s his name?
RYAN: You know . . .
ROBIN: Who?
RYAN: What’s his name . . . (Indicates his head and trouble
thinking.) . . . Oh, boy . . . guess I did hit it pretty hard . . . guy with
the glasses and slicked down hair . . . Most depressing day in my
life, except the time I visited Philadelphia. I said _ this was very
late in the game, understand _ just last year if I recall _ heyday
over, bottom falling out, I fly to see him _ I say _
Lighting change. Robin gone. John Persons, older,
steps forward, in a rumpled gray suitcoat over a red V-neck
sweater. We will see him at various times at age twenty-two
or so, to his present age of forty-three or forty-four.
He wears rumpled slacks and a red V-neck sweater over a
white button-down; when he plays older he wears the gray
suitcoat he has on now; when younger, he does not wear the
suit coat. Persons is average looking, his hair slicked down
but not enough to hold down his natural cowlick; he wears
glasses and could probably lose a few pounds. He is a very
intense, difficult-to-ignore presence. He is pushy, combative,
quick on his feet.
RYAN: How can you offer so little after what you did _
PERSONS: What?
RYAN: You know . . .
PERSONS: No, I don’t. Is this why you wanted to see me, Ryan,
recriminations? . . . because I’m busy and _
Starts to leave.
RYAN: No, don’t go, John, please . . . We’re in trouble and _
PERSONS (Turning back to him; subtly aggressive): You arrive
unannounced . . . Do you think I can just drop every _ who’s in
trouble?
RYAN: The company and, and _
PERSONS: Sure it is. I know that. The industry knows that. Why
you’re here. Are you blaming us?
RYAN: Because _
PERSONS: Look!
RYAN: No, I don’t _
PERSONS: You want _ need _ to sell?
RYAN (Some pain): I can’t remember this _
PERSONS: What? Remember what?
Light dims on Persons as he takes a few
steps back. Robin back in light, moving
close to Ryan.
RYAN: _ remember this now. I don’t want to . . . not now . . . head
throbbing . . .
ROBIN: Remember what? . . . Are you OK?
RYAN (Smiles sheepishly, a beat): Sorry . . .
ROBIN: I’m calling the hospital . . .
RYAN: No, please _ get the hospital involved and the police will
follow for sure; this business, everyone hears everything . . . I
need to sort this out . . . come to some . . . resolution . . . He
called. Persons. Years ago. When I first met him. The first time.
No one’d heard of him.
ROBIN: Persons? Do you mean John Persons? Everyone in the
world has heard of John Persons.
RYAN: Not then. I was on all those covers before Persons . . .
The idea was still forming . . . coming together as a concept. I was
close . . . and excited. Floating, every day _ floating in this unreal
world of ecstatic anticipation. Everything was better . . . food . . .
sex . . . driving fast . . . flying! . . . I couldn’t wait to get back to the
tool shed and the computer and begin composing. I hadn’t been
so excited since the day . . . (Searching.)
ROBIN: You saw Niagara Falls?
RYAN (Gives her a funny look): Yes _ Niagara Falls! How can
anyone forget Niagara Falls? . . . I don’t know what’s going on
with my head. So one day I received a call from . . . (Searching.)
ROBIN: Persons.
RYAN: Yes _ Persons! He had been thinking of forming a
company _ inspired by mine! . . . That’s what he said . . . he was
in town. Could he drop by? Donna welcomes everyone. We
invited him to dinner, to spend the night. Persons was so young. I
was, back then? . . .
ROBIN: Twenty-nine, thirty?
RYAN: Thank you, about that _ almost decrepit. He was twenty-one,
-two, something like that . . . looked fifteen . . .
Lighting change. Robin backs away. Persons, appearing
much younger, minus suit coat, and Donna step forward.
She is dark, attractive, wears dark slacks and a white
blouse.
PERSONS: . . . kind of you to invite me . . .
RYAN: . . . sounded twelve.
PERSONS: I know it was sudden . . . but driving up the coast
. . . passing though . . . lovely house . . .
RYAN: Not much room . . . two small kids . . . I work in a tool
shed _
PERSONS: Well, we’re all struggling, aren’t we? . . . Looking for
our niche _
RYAN: _ and the payments . . .
PERSONS: _ pioneer days. I heard someone say that recently,
good description. We’re like (Indicating he and Ryan.) Lewis and
Clark . . . (Smiles.) Navigating upriver . . . against the current . . .
Anyway, money shouldn’t be a problem long for you . . . from
what I hear.
DONNA: What do you hear?
They both look at her.
RYAN: Drink, John?
PERSONS: Thank you, but I don’t drink . . . You do?
RYAN: Now and then. Sure.
PERSONS: I don’t disapprove, not at all. But surprising, someone
with your gifts . . . Something could happen to that talent, couldn’t
it? Isn’t that a concern . . . with genius, you don’t want to . . . rock
the boat, do you?. . .
RYAN (Uncomfortable): No. Well, I . . . maybe I do . . .
PERSONS: They say you’re working on an interesting operating
system . . . intriguing concept . . . bold application . . . almost
visionary . . .
RYAN: I wish. Right now I’m just at the point of, of _
DONNA: Shouldn’t we eat? . . . John? . . . Ryan?. . . (Pause.)
Hungry?
They look at her. Persons considers. Lighting change
as Donna and Persons step back, just Ryan and Robin.
RYAN: So he stays over. We talked and talked. He stayed up
late. Maybe the whole night. I got up to go to the john about _
well, like this hour, whatever that is _ and saw the light under his
door . . . I heard him on his computer, tip-tapping away. He left
early, before we woke . . . (Pause.) He left a thank you note . . .
Ryan unsteadily walks front, distracted.
ROBIN: He was typing?. . .
RYAN: Something . . . (Puzzles, smiles.) . . . The thank you note?
. . . At the time . . . at the time as I recall . . . I didn’t think anything
of it. Well, maybe that he was composing, being creative . . . Now
I know _ how wrong that was . . . His mind doesn’t work that way
. . . Instead, he . . . (Pause.) Sorry . . . But I envied him at that
moment, if that was what I was thinking about. Everything’s fuzzy
now, so can’t be sure of anything . . . that fall _ that’s what you
said, right, I took a fall? (Pause.) What I meant is, I can’t work at
night. Too bad. For me the night’s for other things. Why I get in
trouble _ for instance, last night _ (Smiles at her.) _ if we’re to
believe the rumors. (Pause.) I need to work on that . . . once I
clear my head. Once this . . . headache . . . goes away . . .
(Pause.) Donna wasn’t sure about him . . . reserved judgement.
Suspicious, as I recall . . . she has better instincts . . . than I . . .
He showed up several times over the next year or so . . . usually
unannounced . . . as I got closer to . . . to . . . (Can’t find the
word.)
ROBIN: `Composing’ ? _ Composing it?
RYAN: Yes! _ as it became more clear . . . clearer . . . as I began
to finally visualize it . . . (With difficulty.) . . . to conceptualize . . .
the program . . . he must have known, an instinct . . . But then I
think . . . (Depressed.) I’m sorry, what did I just say?
Light dimming. Persons approaching, wearing the
rumpled suit coat, older demeanor.
PERSONS: Are you blaming us?
RYAN: What?
PERSONS: Are you saying we stole from you? Because if that is
what you are saying _
RYAN: No, of course not. Did you?
ROBIN: What?
Lighting change as Persons steps back.
RYAN: Oh, thinking of something else. Not very well. Something
that happened more recently _ not clear what, but it nags at me
. . . Wondering _ just at this moment _ if I was pushed.
ROBIN: Your fall? . . . . Last night? . . . You said you didn’t
remember.
RYAN: Something’s come back . . . a glimmer . . . and feeling . . .
a soreness in my back, as if someone had shoved me. Perhaps
that precipitated the fall. Of course, I was so bombed, it wouldn’t
have taken much, much of a shove . . . I’ve dissipated badly . . .
muscle tone goes, balance follows . . . I think that’s the sequence
. . .
ROBIN: They said . . . (Pause.)
RYAN: Said . . . ?
ROBIN: . . . you knocked over a stool, falling. Perhaps that
accounts for _
RYAN: Who said?
ROBIN: Television news.
RYAN: Television? Television has it? (Looking off, looking back.)
And . . . what did television say again?
ROBIN: That you knocked over a stool _ when you fell.
RYAN: And so the soreness in my back . . . Sure. I guess . . . But
why did I fall?
Spot on Persons, in suit coat, as he comes forward
a few steps, chin out.
PERSONS: Are you blaming us, Ryan?
RYAN: What?
PERSONS: Are you saying we killed you? _ that is, rather,
caused your fall? . . . Because, Ryan, if that’s what you are
saying _
RYAN: No! Yes! Did you? (Pause, looks at Robin.) Did I just say
something? I did, didn’t I? It’s . . . I’m dizzy . . .
Persons steps back, spot off.
RYAN (Looking at audience, but to himself): John Steinbeck got a
call one day from his hometown _ Salinas . . . California . . . It’s,
it’s 1938, or around then and he’s in a little cottage twenty miles
away on the coast putting the finishing touches on “The Grapes
of Wrath.” A woman _ friend for years, high school classmate _
calls and says, “John, what’s this talk you think people are after
you because of what you’re writing? It’s not so! We all love you!
We’re having a picnic today in Salinas. Please come. We want to
see you, like the old days.” . . . So he went and it was great for
him _ a picnic in the sun . . . life rich, heady _ the promise of a
great novel . . . friends, warmth, wine . . . and then two cowboys
approach and one sticks a gun under his chin and says, “If you
write another fucking word about farm workers being exploited,
we’ll blow your fucking head off.” (Pause.) Well, they didn’t,
because all those people were there . . . otherwise . . . and
Steinbeck overcomes . . . the trauma . . . and writes for another
thirty years . . . but the gun stuck under his chin was real . . . it
could have gone off and we wouldn’t have. . . what? . . . “East of
Eden.” (Pause.) He thinks about such things. He knows himself
and he knows what he might do if he lives. He moves to the East
Coast _ to New York. He applies for and receives a license to . . .
naturally . . . own a gun. (Pause.)
Lighting change.
ROBIN (Coming forward, to audience): All kinds of stories came
out about what happened to Ryan that night . . . That a biker
brawl led to his death . . . He died from a heart attack . . . blow to
the head . . . suicide . . .
Lighting change.
RYAN: Slow suicide then . . . (Sexy smile.) Did we ever . . . Robin,
did we . . . ?
ROBIN (Smiles): You were faithful in those days . . . you looked
me up and down a time or two . . .
RYAN (Pause): Did I really ask what I think I just asked you or
am I . . .
ROBIN: You asked it.
RYAN (Smiles): But I didn’t try anything _ good and good. We
were close then . . . Donna and I . . . (Ryan temporarily loses his
balance, grabs a chair before Robin can get to him.) Fuck . . .
Ryan is temporarily in his own light.
RYAN: So he showed up a few months later . . . We’re all still
young . . . early 1974, maybe `73, somewhere in there. Right
decade, I’m sure. (Smiles, mocking himself.) Twentieth Century.
He . . . You know . . . (Frustrated.) . . . him! (Coming toward
Robin, searching _ before Robin can speak.) No! I’ll get it for
God’s sake! _ Persons! . . . John Persons. (Visibly relaxes.)
That’s it, you know . . . something eludes you, think of something
else . . . I used to advise my students to try it. That’s the way I
compose. Easy . . . not thinking directly of the problem . . .
Drifting, in a way . . .
A phone rings.
ROBIN: I’ll just be a moment, do not, Ryan . . . do not do anything
. . .
Lighting change. Persons, young, and Donna
approach as Robin moves off.
RYAN (Suddenly exuberant): . . . drifting, in a way . . . freeing the
mind! . . .
PERSONS (Eager): And then _ ?
RYAN: . . . I try, John, to let my subconscious kick in. Well, the
opposite of “try,” really . . . open the way for it is better . . . and
when it does _
PERSONS: When it does?
Donna turns away. Ryan and Persons, momentarily
sharing this world, do not notice.
RYAN: It’s like _ you know, John _ it’s so wonderful! It’s like _ it’s
what I imagine it’s like _ to compose music. It pours out, the
binaries becoming notes. And look _ when you look at it, isn’t the
computer keyboard like a piano? A chess board? Hell _ a lit up jet
control panel as you cross the country in the middle of the night
with the whole country sleeping below you . . . There’s a beauty
there, isn’t there? . . . Don’t you think . . . a kind of elegance?
PERSONS: Yes, yes, I think so, Ryan _ I know what you are
saying. I’ve felt this myself! . . . Those moments! . . .
RYAN: Or am I overstating it?
PERSONS: No, no, I don’t think so.
RYAN: I knew you’d understand, John.
PERSONS: Well, sure . . . it’s something . . . we both . . .
RYAN: We can talk.
PERSONS: Of course.
DONNA: How . . . how do you compose, John?
Lighting change, Persons and Donna
step back. Robin returns.
ROBIN: Well, that’s interesting _ now there’s a story that has you
falling off a ladder.
RYAN (A beat): What story?
ROBIN: A call just now about your fall last night.
RYAN: Oh, yes, the fall . . . I forget, but maybe that’s a blessing. I
thought the biker brawl story seemed . . . I mean, I ride, but . . .
ROBIN: But you were wearing a biker’s vest, Ryan . . . with
Harley-Davidson patches. I took it off you because there was
blood . . .
RYAN (Pause): Oh, well, sure, I wear that vest sometimes, but
would that cause a brawl? . . . (Shakes his head as if to clear it.)
Someone hit me, that’s what’s implied? Some biker? . . . And that
last one again _ ?
ROBIN: Falling off a ladder.
Ryan’s own light, dim, softly pulsing.
RYAN (Amused): Falling off a ladder in a `nightclub’? What would
I be doing on a ladder in a nightclub? Adjusting the lights?
(Grudgingly, smiles.) Well, I stick my nose in . . . Wait, you’ll see,
someday they’ll program lighting _ lighting “concerts,” on a disc,
gorgeous compositions of _ (Catches himself.) . . . All I
remember is _ all I remember is my head on the floor, looking up
at dancing bodies, thinking _ or maybe they were brawling bikers
looking like dancers _ I remember thinking, “Please do not step
on my head . . . Please, oh God, please do not let them kick me in
the head . . . I still have use for it . . . It has more to do . . . more to
. . . finish . . . ”
A silence. Lighting back to normal.
ROBIN: Do you?
RYAN: Have more to do . . . finish? Of course. (Trying to focus.)
People think you do something . . . you should be content with
that . . . even if that thing has been taken from you . . . Do you
think I want to spend the rest of my life . . . not doing what I was
meant to do? Not . . . testing myself?
ROBIN (Softly): Why did you go alone, Ryan?
RYAN: Go where?
ROBIN: The club . . the fall.
RYAN: Oh, the fall. Did I go alone? Did I? I don’t remember.
ROBIN: No one has come forward . . .
RYAN: To say they were with me? Then I guess I was alone.
What are you saying? I’m not popular? . . . That’s not news.
Word’s out I’m bad luck. The man who could have . . . could have
had it all . . . but let it slip through his fingers. (Pause, rubs his
forehead.) I did, didn’t I? . . . That’s what happened, isn’t it? . . . I
blew it. Made all the wrong moves.
ROBIN: I don’t know. I told you, I only know what I read . . .
RYAN: A lot of that _ this I do remember _ is bullshit. The stuff
with the suits, for instance _
ROBIN: Suits?
RYAN: Suits. The kind of people . . . I’m . . . I’ve always been . . .
uncomfortable with . . .
Lighting change. Donna and Jim step forward.
Jim is thirty-five, a straight-forward, uncomplicated
appearing person, casually dressed.
JIM: The “suits” are here, Ryan.
DONNA: They’ve taken a room in town.
JIM: They want to meet with you.
RYAN: The suits . . . Oh really, I can’t . . . You do it . . .
JIM: They want to talk to you. You’re the one they’ve come to see.
RYAN: I was about to leave for the track.
JIM: Look, Ryan . . . these are very powerful men. And this is an
important thing we are talking about, something we have been
working a long time to achieve . . .
DONNA: Jim’s right. It’s an opportunity that may not come around
again, Ryan. You should think about that.
JIM: The fruit of your genius, Ryan.
DONNA: They’ve come to us. That’s a point . . . Still, if you . . .
JIM (Glances at her, mildly disapproving): Not us to them. We
have the leverage at this point.
DONNA (Glances at him): That’s so, but it is Ryan’s creation.
JIM: But it’s for the taking now.
RYAN (Pause): We don’t need them. Money’s not a problem.
We’re doing fine. We’re growing.
JIM: Ryan, we’re talking more than fine _ we’re talking huge.
We’re talking the world _ the PC world. They can place our
operating system in every personal computer _
RYAN: _ In the world? Well, this is very exciting. As exciting as
the first time I saw _
DONNA (Cutting him off): Ryan, this is serious. Whatever
decision you make, I am with you. But I want you to think about it,
I don’t want regrets.
Donna waits. Ryan gives no sign of acknowledging
the gravity of the situation.
DONNA: Ryan?
RYAN: I’m sorry, Donna. I’m going to the track _ I’m going to take
the Lamborghini around the oval a few times.
DONNA: That is what you are going to do now _ race your
Lamborghini around the track?
Ryan nods.
DONNA (To Jim, who’s about to protest): No, let him be. (To
Ryan.) Do as you wish. I just hope this is what you really want.
She steps back. Jim looks after her, looks toward
Ryan, waits.
RYAN: I can think when I am behind the wheel. It . . . frees me up.
I thought she understood that.
Jim nods, shrugs, steps back.
Lighting change. Ryan and Robin.
ROBIN: Did you go racing that day?
RYAN: I think so.
ROBIN: Think so?
RYAN: The most traumatic episode in your life _ not dramatic,
traumatic _ do you remember everything? In the proper
sequence, scale . . . ? I’ve never been clear about that day . . . or
days. I wasn’t sure what had happened the day after it happened.
Time shifts . . . Events . . . incidents recede or become
exaggerated . . . What you imagine becomes real, and reality
becomes dreamlike . . . surreal . . .
Lighting change.
RYAN: . . . and you begin to doubt it.
DONNA (Not moving forward): Or, Ryan . . .
RYAN: Yes?
DONNA: Perhaps you simply don’t want to remember.
RYAN (Smiles): There’s that, too.
Lighting change.
ROBIN: What?
RYAN: Maybe I simply don’t want to remember.
ROBIN: And the fall _ ?
RYAN: Has nothing to do with my memory of that . . . those days
. . . (Frustrated.) I don’t think it does. (Pause.) I went racing _ no,
driving fast, racing myself. But the suits were there when I
returned. That part has been left out of the story. . . It’s a story
they love repeating. “The day he could have owned the world, he
drove around and around in circles” . . . It’s catchy _ even amuses
me _ and makes me look like an idiot . . . So of course they keep
it out there, keep it alive . . . Makes it seem I deserve what
happened to me . . . Justifies what they did . . . But I met with the
suits, that day or the next. Whenever the hell it was. I think I finally
realized it was a business _ as I drove around the track I realized
it was a business. It was as if the words were stenciled on the
windshield of the Lamborghini: It Is Business, Ryan. This is
Business.
ROBIN: What else could it have been?
RYAN: I’m not sure _ I had been a teacher, for a government
institution, what did I know about business? _ you teach, you
grade papers _ you hope you inspire and instill passion _ you get
your paycheck. Maybe I thought it was discovery . . . innovation
. . . education . . . fun! . . . those things . . . Things I would never
associate with what people call business. Anyway, it was new . . .
a new science; in a way an art, part mathematics part
composition, like music _ business hadn’t fully sunk its claws into
it . . . yet. It _ software, the concept of it _ was still . . . virgin . . .
territory. No one knew how to copyright it, protect it . . . No one
knew if you could copyright it. All I knew was suddenly I was
doing it _ and doing it well! And it was consuming me! (Pause.) As
I remember. (Pause.) If I remember. So we met . . .
Lighting change. Misty, shadowy. The two men in
suits approach. Their faces kept in shadow.
RYAN: There had been three suits. One had left _ to report back
to suit headquarters, I suppose. So we met _ and I knew it was
business. (To them.) You propose? I think you have a proposal
for me.
FIRST MAN: You’ve kept us waiting, you know.
RYAN (Uncomfortable, awkward, but trying to assert himself):
Sorry. I was involved in something . . . Tell me what’s on your
minds.
SECOND MAN: You know who we are and you kept us waiting
anyway.
FIRST MAN: We flew across the continent to meet with you.
SECOND MAN: In the company jet _ one of the company jets.
FIRST MAN: Don Hatcher had to return to the home office
RYAN: Don Hatcher? . . .
FIRST MAN: There were three of us. Now there are two.
SECOND MAN: Don’s reporting on what’s gone on here.
FIRST MAN: Which has been very little. The story is you brushed
us off to drive a car around a track.
RYAN (Smiles, more at ease _ “Who wouldn’t skip a meeting to
drive a Lamborghini?”): A Lamborghini, a red Lamborghini.
SECOND MAN: We heard that you like speed.
FIRST MAN: Is that a death wish kind of thing _ the love of
speed?
RYAN (Smiling, offhand): Naw . . . if it was?
FIRST MAN: Well, then we’d have to think about it. (To Second
Man.) Wouldn’t we?
SECOND MAN: Would we? Why?
FIRST MAN: It would make a difference.
SECOND MAN: I don’t see that. Once an agreement is signed . . .
FIRST MAN: Oh, right.
RYAN (A beat): I’m sorry, you had a proposal . . .
The two men look at each other.
FIRST MAN: Right.
SECOND MAN: Righto.
FIRST MAN: We have developed a hell of a new personal
computer, if we do say so _ the _
SECOND MAN (Warning): Richard.
FIRST MAN: Well . . . model name’s not important.
Donna approaches. They look at her a moment.
SECOND MAN: Can do anything.
FIRST MAN: Or could _
SECOND MAN: _ if it had an operating software system. We
mean, a system worthy of its excellence.
FIRST MAN (Pause): What we have is, frankly . . . limited.
A general silence.
DONNA: So then it can’t do much?
Ryan smiles.
FIRST MAN (Irritated she’d have a question): What’s that?
DONNA: Your new computer, as is.
FIRST MAN (Clears throat, somewhat hostile): Well, sure _ that’s
the point. But it could.
SECOND MAN: If it had a superior operating system.
A general silence.
DONNA: A brain, you mean.
Ryan smiles.
FIRST MAN (A beat): Well . . .
SECOND MAN: You might call it that. Maybe nerve system’s
better.
DONNA: Otherwise it functions . . . well?. . .
FIRST MAN: The new computer?
SECOND MAN: Of course it does!
FIRST MAN: No problem there.
DONNA: Adds numbers, subtracts and multiplies, too, but can’t
communicate, you mean. Other than that . . .
SECOND MAN (Rattled, irritated): Look, the thing is: it’s all there,
except for _
FIRST MAN: _ you know.
SECOND MAN: And John Persons says you have one.
RYAN: John said that?
FIRST MAN: Yes.
SECOND MAN: He recommended you.
RYAN: John Persons?
FIRST MAN: Yes.
RYAN (A beat): John’s a friend.
Donna looks away.
FIRST MAN: Well . . .
SECOND MAN: If you say so.
RYAN (After a pause): So you talked to him _ John Persons _
first?
FIRST MAN (After looking at other man): Yes.
DONNA (Turning back quickly): Why didn’t you go with him?
FIRST MAN: With . . . ?
RYAN: Donna means with John’s operating system _ for your
new computer.
DONNA: If he has one. Does he?
SECOND MAN (A beat): Look, I don’t think we can talk about
that.
FIRST MAN: John wouldn’t like that.
SECOND MAN: We keep our dealings _ (Looks at other man.) _
what?
FIRST MAN: Compartmentalized.
SECOND MAN (Nodding): Compartmentalized.
FIRST MAN: It’s the ethical thing to do.
DONNA: He knows we have one.
FIRST MAN: That’s between you and him.
SECOND MAN: Not us.
DONNA: He knows about us, we don’t know about him.
FIRST MAN: Look _ (They’d rather not talk to her; pointedly to
Ryan): _ we’d really like to work something out. We’d like to do
business . . . (Again excluding Donna.) . . . with you.
SECOND MAN (Only to Ryan): There’s something here for both
sides.
RYAN: Which is _ (A flicker of anxiety _ and perhaps pain _
registers on his face.) . . . specifically?
SECOND MAN (Registers on this, a beat): Well . . . excuse me,
you’re OK?
RYAN: Yes.
SECOND MAN: You’re sure?
RYAN: Yes.
The two men exchange looks, making a mental
note of this. Donna has missed it, but realizing
she has missed something she moves protectively
to Ryan’s side.
DONNA: Ryan?
FIRST MAN (To Donna): Excuse me. (To Ryan after a glance at
his friend _ this has been rehearsed.) Before we proceed _
SECOND MAN: _ we need you to sign _
FIRST MAN: _ a nondisclosure agreement.
He pulls a folded paper from his suit coat
pocket.
SECOND MAN: It simply says this meeting _
FIRST MAN: _ never took place _
SECOND MAN: _ generally and, of course, as pertains to the
particulars.
A general silence. First Man taps the paper in the
palm of his other hand. Ryan, unsteady, and Donna
look at each other.
RYAN: We’re not here then.
FIRST MAN: That’s a good way of looking at it.
RYAN: If we’re not here, how can we sign it?
SECOND MAN (Shrugs _ “What can I say?”): That’s another way
of looking at it.
DONNA: What are the particulars we wouldn’t be disclosing?
FIRST MAN (To Ryan): Our business arrangement, naturally.
RYAN: So . . . our operating system . . . our software . . . (Falters,
takes a deep breath.) Sorry . . . in your computers?
FIRST MAN: Yes.
The two men exchange glances.
SECOND MAN: That’s it.
FIRST MAN: We don’t discuss it at this time . . . With people, the
press . . . Eventually it becomes known. When we’re protected.
Both sides.
RYAN: What kind of royalty are we . . . not talking about?
SECOND MAN (After a glance at Donna): How does _ would you
feel better about the disclosure _ about this agreement _ if I
whisper it? (Approaches Ryan, whispers in his ear, then backs
away.) How does that strike you?
RYAN (Pause): As . . . as not enough.
FIRST MAN: You realize we are talking several million computers
_ just to begin with! Take that number and multiply by _
DONNA (Impatiently, suddenly): He’s a mathematics genius, for
God’s sake. He figured the numbers _ tabulated them,
extrapolated them and square-rooted them _ the instant they
were out of your mouth. He doesn’t think about it _ it just
happens. Do you understand him at all? Do you?
A general silence; they shift uncomfortably.
RYAN (Pause): Donna . . . (A beat): We’re being dictated to, but
. . .
DONNA: Ryan, remember, it’s just money.
SECOND MAN: But?
RYAN (To Donna): Meaning?
DONNA: Don’t make money the determining factor _ whatever
you decide to do.
FIRST MAN: So, but?
RYAN: I’ll consider the offer, we’ll consider the offer _ if . . .
FIRST MAN: If?
RYAN: _ if you sign a nondisclosure agreement with us. (Pause.)
I think that’s fair.
SECOND MAN (A beat): It’s out of the question. We don’t sign
disclosure agreements of any kind, Ryan . . . It is Ryan, isn’t it?
. . . (A beat.) Because, Ryan, you don’t seem to understand us at
all.
FIRST MAN: If you’ll take a moment and look at this document,
you will see it states we are allowed unfettered _ (To Second
Man.) Is that the word? Yes, unfettered use of any information we
may wish to use, privately or publicly, on you and/or your
company.
SECOND MAN: And as you might understand, signing a
nondisclosure agreement with you would contradict the unfettered
provision.
First Man taps document on his hand as
others stand silent. Ryan and Donna look
at each other.
DONNA (Finally; British accent, to Ryan only, smiling): Lovely.
RYAN (Smiles and nods at her and them; British accent): Quite, I
say. . . (He staggers, stumbles forward, grabbing his chest _
stricken) I say! . . .
DONNA: Ryan!
Lighting change as Donna repeats Ryan’s name. Ryan
and Robin. Robin goes to Ryan’s assistance. Ryan takes
a moment to regain his balance and composure.
RYAN (Smiling sheepishly): Clumsy lately, but I think that’s what
happened . . .
ROBIN (Holding his arm): And just happened again _ which was?
RYAN: Irregular heartbeat.
ROBIN: Still?
RYAN: No _ just imagination . . . memory . . . (Moves away from
her.) No reason to stumble like that . . . then . . . I recovered in
moments . . . then, like now . . . I guess I was _ am _ being like
that shore bird of yours _ the, the _ ?
ROBIN: Killdeer. It’s _ they’re called _ killdeer.
RYAN: Right _ killdeer. Drawing the predators away, away from
the nest, pretending an injury, a broken wing or something _ isn’t
that what you said? (Smiles.) Scared me, that’s all. I didn’t know
what it was . . . then.
ROBIN: Your heart?
RYAN (Nods): That was the first time. Well, a few hours earlier,
on the track just a quick few beats, taking a curve in the red
Lamborghini . . . I dismissed it. Thought it had something to do
with the coming meeting with the suits. (Pause, laughs.) Thought
it was me composing _ da-da-da, da da. Binary rhythms, you
know. (Smiles, looking at her.) Or perhaps you don’t. Then, at the
suits meeting, I pretty well knew it was something else.
ROBIN: And that had something to do with your decision _ your
health?
RYAN: What decision?
ROBIN: Not to go with them.
RYAN: I didn’t go with them because a lump sum, for the rights to
my work into perpetuity, seemed like a raw deal. Maybe health
figures into perpetuity, I don’t know.
ROBIN: I thought they offered a royalties deal. Isn’t that what you
said?
RYAN: Did they? Did I? I don’t know. I don’t remember that . . .
ROBIN: You said a royalty on each computer, with the computers
numbering into the millions.
RYAN: No. I think . . . I think . . . Sorry, head’s throbbing a bit . . .
I think I asked for a limited royalty contract and they said “lump
sum, perpetuity. Plus, sign the disclosure.” If I indicated otherwise
. . . did I?
Robin nods.
RYAN: I don’t know, maybe that happened. (Pause.) Anyway,
whatever they offered _ we weren’t going to get by the disclosure
requirement.
ROBIN: So you said _
RYAN: “Sign my disclosure.” Another way of saying kiss my ass.
(A beat, small smile.) I’m afraid I’m not very good at this, am I?
Lighting change. Donna and Jim move forward
a bit.
DONNA: You’re not. We’re not. So take it, Ryan, take the deal.
Let’s be done with it before it destroys us.
RYAN (Looking front, not at them): That’s no deal.
DONNA: Don’t take it then. I don’t know. I don’t know what you
want. I just don’t know.
JIM: Donna, if he doesn’t . . .
RYAN: If I don’t?
JIM: You could _ we could _ be left out.
DONNA (Weary): Is that so bad?
JIM: But it all comes from _ it all stems from _ Ryan. Without him,
it isn’t. It is his creation. How can he be left out of that? That
doesn’t seem right to me.
DONNA: But it happens, doesn’t it? Isn’t that a pattern in the . . .
world?
Sudden lighting change. Ryan and Persons,
stepping forward, older.
PERSONS: So, I ask you again, why are you here? What do you
want? . . . Ryan, you must understand I’m busy.
RYAN: We have, John . . . John, we have a number of
stockholders . . . not wealthy . . . good, honest people . . . In
deep . . .
PERSONS: Yes?
RYAN: Who could be hurt . . . Deeply invested, close to life
savings tied up in the company . . . Some of them . . .
PERSONS: And? . . . That’s too bad but what does that have to
do with me _ and my company _ Ryan?
RYAN: I’m fine, myself and the rest of the board, we’re secure,
covered . . .
PERSONS: Same question applies. (Looks at wristwatch.) I’m
waiting, Ryan. (Pause, sighs loudly.) I assume, you fly a thousand
miles, you must have something on your mind. Something
important to say. (A beat.) Something difficult for you to say.
Ryan turns away, bites his lip.
PERSONS: You have trouble with this kind of thing, don’t you?
Some sort of hang-up, isn’t it? . . . (A beat; suddenly intensely
curious, moving toward Ryan): You flew yourself, as usual?
Ryan turns back.
RYAN: What does that have _ ?
PERSONS: Plenty! I thought something was missing. You usually
march in with your pilot’s helmet in the crook of your arm, scarf
thrown back, like some sort of World War II hero. Swashbuckling
. . . swaggering . . . big smile . . . But not today. (Pause, waits.)
RYAN: Right, John, I didn’t fly myself . . . but we were talking
about _
PERSONS: No, you didn’t. I’d heard that maybe . . . you weren’t
anymore . . . flying, I mean . . . for some reason . . . (A thoughtful
pause, then with extra animation, pacing, in a way stalking him.)
But, Ryan, you’re a famous flyboy! The flamboyant genius!
RYAN: John . . .
PERSONS: Wait: the devil-may-care pilot who jets himself across
the continent at the drop of a hat! . . . under a star-lit sky, reciting
poetry! . . . while the rest of us . . . the rest of us unbathed nerds
. . . the popular perception . . . we’re having trouble tying our shoe
laces . . . Isn’t this what I’ve read? . . . Is written? . . . You’re the
un-nerd of the computer world. You never fly commercial _ you
never let anyone fly for you _ unless . . . (Looks at him
differently, moves closer again, circles him.) . . . unless they took
away your pilot’s license. Did they? . . . Is that what happened,
Ryan? . . . What’s wrong? Were you stripped of your license?
Grounded, isn’t that what they call it? (A beat.) Something
happened. Are, are we looking at a drinking problem? . . . I hope
we are not looking at a serious drinking problem, Ryan . . .
RYAN (A beat): Do you, John?
PERSONS: Because we all know . . . have known for a long time
. . . that you have a propensity . . . A weakness toward . . .
(Pause.) . . . for . . . (Wants Ryan to say it.) Ryan? . . . (Pause.)
Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you, years ago, can you? Do you
remember, Ryan _ that first night at your house? Talking about
your gift? The danger of abusing it? (A beat _ pointedly.) Donna
was there. Ask her, she’ll remember.
RYAN (A beat): Fuck off, John.
PERSONS (Pause, shrugs): Well.
Persons steps back, shaking his head.
Lighting change, Ryan and Robin.
RYAN (Smiles): I don’t think I said that. I wanted to. But I needed
him. Anyway, it was probably better that he thought I wasn’t flying
because of a drinking problem than a . . . a health problem. You
can kick the booze, or so they say. But if he knew I might be
about to kick off . . . well . . . and the odds of that seem to have
gone up considerably in the last few hours . . .
ROBIN: He was . . . for a long time you thought he was your
friend.
RYAN: By then _ and for some time _ I knew he wasn’t. But I had
for years _ admired and respected him. His fight . . . intensity . . .
tenacity . . . his . . . tunnel vision . . . (A beat.) That’s what kind of
genius I am. So the . . . where was I?
ROBIN: Persons, your friend.
RYAN: Before that.
ROBIN: The suits?
RYAN; So the suits, giving up on me, fly up to see John _ and
miracle of miracles, he suddenly has an operating system. One
that would work for them. I thought, “Wow, to come up with
something like that in twenty-four hours after years of trying, that’s
something.” (Pause.) That’s what I really thought . . . was blown
away. (A beat, somewhat unsure.) I mean, it’s not that farfetched.
Someone with John’s talent . . . It can happen, you know?
(Pause.) You know? . . .
Lighting change, Jim and Donna step forward. Ryan
pours a drink.
JIM (With urgency): They’ve made some kind of deal _ Persons
and the suits. That’s the word.
RYAN: The word? What word?
JIM: That is what they are saying, what is being said. Word gets
around quickly.
RYAN (Shrugs): Screw `the word.’ It’s really none of our
business. We have enough on our own plate.
He offers Jim a drink, who declines with an
impatient gesture.
JIM: Ryan, two days ago he sends the suits to us because he
doesn’t have an operating system. How can he have one now? It
doesn’t make sense.
RYAN (Looking off): As you say, he sent them to us. John was
doing us a favor. Otherwise, why would he do it?
He drinks.
JIM: Because he didn’t have anything. Because he needed us . . .
He would have wanted something eventually, a cut, a partnership,
a percentage of the licensing fee _ something. (A beat.) Ryan, he
knew he could talk you into something like that, no problem _ (A
beat, considers.) _ and in the long run get the better part of the
deal _ something for nothing is probably what he had in mind.
RYAN (Pause, flushes, deeply embarrassed): That’s what John
thought?
JIM: Yes. Of course he did. Is that a surprise? (Pause.) Face it,
Ryan: you’re an easy touch . . . not a . . . you’re not a
businessman . . .
RYAN: And? . . .
JIM: And?
RYAN: And I’m . . . naive?
JIM (Considers): . . . Let’s just say you’re not exactly
Machiavellian. (Pause.) Sure, you’re naive _ so was Othello. It’s
nothing to be ashamed of . . .
Ryan smiles, still embarrassed, makes a quick
little toast with his glass to Jim. Both look away.
There’s a general silence.
DONNA (Thoughtfully, softly, and to break the silence): Well, it
does happen.
JIM: What happens?
DONNA: They come up with their own program in a day . . . a
sudden inspiration. Some of Ryan’s best ideas have come
suddenly.
JIM: Yes, I understand that. But it doesn’t usually come packaged
and ready to go as an operating system. And if it did happen _ if
they were on the verge, close _ even if they saw it as a remote
possibility down the line – would they have sent the suits to us?
No, no way in hell.
Ryan moves off.
DONNA: So. Does it really matter?
RYAN: Donna’s right. We’re getting all the business we can
handle. (Drinks.) Jim, we’re in a million computers and still
growing. What’s the problem?
JIM: We can lose business, Ryan. As fast as companies pop up in
this business, they go away . . . disappear. No one has signed on
with us for forever. We don’t do perpetuity contracts, remember?
That’s someone else. Maybe we should.
DONNA: Whatever program they have, it won’t be better than
Ryan’s.
JIM: What if it’s just as good as Ryan’s, Donna? (Pause.) What if
it is Ryan’s?
RYAN: John wouldn’t do that. That’s not something John would
do.
JIM: Really? (A beat.) I don’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t do
. . . to come out on top. (Pause.) Look, I’m not saying . . . I mean,
I don’t know where they got it . . . it’s just, from what I hear . . . it’s
an awful lot like . . . and if you believe in unbelievable coincidence
. . . nearly incalculable odds . . . well, you’re the genius, I’m not
. . . (Pause.) I’m sorry, I’ve got to go, I’ve got family . . . (Starts to
go, stops.) Remember that, Ryan _ factor that in _ most of us
have family.
Jim steps back. Donna looks at Ryan, he
doesn’t look at her. Ryan sets his drink down,
moves back.
DONNA: Ryan, where are you going?
RYAN (Shrugs): I don’t know.
DONNA: It’s night _ you can’t go racing.
RYAN: No.
DONNA: Don’t fly . . . not tonight, Ryan, please. I’d worry . . . I
can’t . . .
RYAN: No. I don’t fly if I’m not . . . right. You know I wouldn’t do
that.
DONNA: Then why don’t you stay?
Ryan hesitates, shrugs apologetically.
RYAN: I don’t know, I’m sorry.
Lighting change, Donna steps back. Ryan and
Robin.
RYAN: It was after that . . . a few days later, we realized Jim had
been right about Persons.
ROBIN: It’s like your program?
RYAN: It’s almost exactly mine, with a tweak here or there for
appearance’s sake . . . As Jim said, the odds are, well . . . say
. . . say someone takes “Hamlet” and changes the title to . . .
“Lars” . . . (He smiles.) . . . and moves the play from
Copenhagen to, say, Tuscaloosa . . . and Polonius becomes
Felonius . . . (A beat, but can’t resist: with a sly smile.) Portia a
. . . Lamborghini . . . That sort of thing . . . So blatant it’s kind of
funny. (Serious again.) The thing is, those tweaks . . . they’re not
harmless. They cause crashes . . . which cost money . . .
sometimes . . . could cost . . . lives . . . (Pause, he hesitates,
having difficulty with his balance; takes a deep breath.) . . . so
they sold my work _ now called something else, of course _ to the
suits, interesting that . . . I’ve never heard of selling anything that
belonged to someone else. I didn’t know you could do that. A neat
trick. (A beat, with a whimsical, sad smile.) In that area, it must be
admitted, they’re . . . innovative.
Lighting change and Jim takes a step forward.
JIM: There’s only one thing to do, Ryan: we have to take them to
court.
RYAN: I didn’t get into this to sue people, Jim. My God, it’s the
last thing I want to do with my life _ waste my time that way . . .
Besides, we don’t even know if we can.
JIM: Well, we have to do something or we go down. We
eventually get ground into the dirt. They’re taking over the
business overnight. Using what you created, they’re four times
our size . . . And they’re just not growing, they’re taking our
customers with them. (A beat.) It continues, we’re history _ a
footnote, one of dozens of little footnotes in this business that
come up with a good idea and are buried because of it. The
reward of innovation is destruction . . . But none of them had or
have your vision, Ryan _ and I hate to see you go their way.
RYAN (Really to himself, a slight note of panic): It’s about
education, Jim . . . Don’t you see that? It’s innovation . . .
communication . . . discovery. It’s supposed to be fun, like . . .
like music!
JIM: Music’s a business, Ryan! Get your head out of the . . . out
of wherever the fuck it is.
RYAN (Off somewhere): John and I spoke of that once. You
weren’t with the company then. He agreed with me, about the
beauty of it, the excitement of breaking new ground. I had this
idea _ a long time ago _ that we might work together someday,
create something magnificent.
JIM: Are you kidding _ you and John? Oh, for Christ’s sake,
Ryan _ he’s going to bury you! (Pause.) I think he already has.
(Pause.)
He steps back, Donna moves forward tentatively.
(Pause.)
DONNA: I think, Ryan, whatever’s going on with you and John
and the suits _ the whole business, actually _ it’s becoming
beside the point now, isn’t it? . . . I mean, you’re so far removed
. . . from me, now the kids . . . maybe there’s nothing left. (Pause.)
Or is . . . or is your creativity all we ever had in the first place?
(Pause.)
She remains. Ryan takes an unsteady few steps,
having trouble with his balance. He looks around
for Donna but can’t find her. He grabs a chair
for support, takes a few deep breaths. Looks at
Robin.
RYAN (Smiles, shaken): I’m remembering a little too much . . . It’s
(Indicating his head.) . . . the old noggin . . . it’s suddenly working
. . . but . . . all of a sudden I wish it wasn’t . . . don’t appreciate the
. . . clarity . . . not at . . . (Pause.) . . . Robin, could you give me a
ride to . . .
ROBIN: Sure. Wherever.
RYAN: To . . . Or maybe better, call an ambulance, please. I’ve
always wanted to ride in an ambulance _ (Smiles.) _ all that legal
speed, you know.
ROBIN (Briskly): OK.
She starts to move off quickly.
RYAN: Because this headache . . . is acting up a bit . . . And I
think you might be right _ (Pause.) _ I think I might be in some,
some trouble . . . (Smiles, waits.)
Light fades.
End of Act One
Act Two
The Final Day
In dim light, Ryan and a Nurse. He is in the chair, leaning back;
she has pulled up a chair to be nearby, pages through a
magazine. He is in different clothes, casual and comfortable, but
similar; he now wears the motorcycle vest with Harley-Davidson
patches. A strip of gauze on the back of his head. His eyes are
open. The Nurse is attractive and young.
On the periphery: Persons; Jim and Donna, together.
It is evening twilight; the act will advance into darkness.
RYAN (After a few moments): It’s like, it’s what I imagine it’s like
to compose music . . .
The Nurse smiles wanly, watches him from the
corner of her eye.
RYAN: . . . the binaries becoming notes . . . The notes appearing
out of nowhere. (Pause.) There’s a beauty there, isn’t there? A
kind of elegance?
Persons moves up a few strides.
PERSONS: Speaking to me, Ryan? . . . To anyone? . . . `A kind
of elegance’? Well, it’s neither here nor there anymore, if you ask
me . . . You’re dying and you know it. So why go on about the
beauty of composing programs? Once it was . . . acceptable . . .
tolerable . . . But now? . . . You might as well talk about building a
house or founding a business _ you’re not going to do either.
They make as much sense as composing a program. It’s futile.
(Pause.) You’re no longer in the game. Not a player. (Pause.)
You’re history _ if that . . . if you’re lucky . . . (Pause.) If I allow you
to be. (Pause.) History. (Pause.) Because, Ryan, the winner
writes the history. Everyone knows that. (Pause.)
RYAN (Not looking at him): Do they? . . .
PERSONS: Yes. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do _ I’ll think about it,
about you getting some credit, I mean . . . because I really don’t
think you should be forgotten . . . I feel a certain responsibility that
you’re . . . remembered . . . But . . . well . . . I will have to think
about it.
RYAN (Pause): Good of you, John.
PERSONS: I pick up on your tone, but you think about it, Ryan _
you haven’t been cooperative . . . I want to do what’s right, but
you don’t make it easy . . .
RYAN: No, I meant it _ good of you, considering . . . considering
all that . . . (Breaks off, adrift.)
PERSONS (A bit awkward): It’s . . . that’s OK . . . glad to consider
it.
He steps back. Lighting change.
RYAN (To Nurse, after a moment, refocusing, a friendly smile):
Hello.
NURSE: Hello.
RYAN: You’re? . . .
NURSE: Certainly not John. Or Donna or Jim. You’ve been calling
me John or Donna or Jim. And some other names, including your
children. You miss your children. (Pause.) I’m a nurse _ Helen.
RYAN: My nurse?
NURSE: Your nurse. We’ve already met by the way.
RYAN: Sorry . . .
The Nurse shrugs.
RYAN: There was someone earlier . . .
NURSE: A woman _ Robin.
RYAN: She won’t be coming back?
NURSE (A beat): I don’t know . . . she was very upset . . . felt she
let you down . . . nice lady.
RYAN: It’s that bad?
NURSE: Not so bad. But the doctors feel it’s a good idea for you
to be observed. Someone to keep an eye . . .
RYAN: Because I have . . . ?
NURSE: A mild concussion . . .
RYAN: That’s the diagnosis?
The Nurse nods.
RYAN: Which is better than . . . ?
NURSE: . . . than moderate or severe, of course . . . or any other
number of things that can happen when a person takes a hard
fall.
RYAN (Considers): Well . . . so . . . (Pause.) What are they
saying . . . ?
NURSE: Saying?
RYAN: In the papers . . . ?
NURSE: I’m not sure I understand . . .
RYAN: The papers, television, about . . . from what Robin had
said . . .
NURSE: About you? It might not be a good idea to . . . (He looks
at her, she considers.) Well, quite a lot. You create things, things
which I cannot begin to understand. You’re a very creative man,
perhaps a genius.
RYAN: About the other night, I mean . . . the fall.
NURSE (Considers again; a pause): There’s speculation, that’s
all.
RYAN: Speculation? . . .
NURSE (A beat): Well, perhaps suspicion.
Silence; she regrets having said this.
RYAN: Suspicion? . . .
NURSE: Well, most likely you fell . . . that’s the feeling . . . but
maybe pushed . . . (Pause.) That would be suspicious, of course
_ being pushed . . . But someone bumping into you . . .
accidentally . . . that seems more likely . . . that seems to be a
theory . . . and you drinking too much . . . You did, didn’t you? . . .
That is more than implied . . . (A beat.) And maybe something
else . . .
RYAN: Something else?
NURSE: In addition to the . . . to the drinking . . .
There is a silence.
RYAN: Stuff? . . . Using stuff? . . . That’s what they’re saying? . . .
NURSE: Look, I shouldn’t have said that, this isn’t something I
should be . . .
RYAN (Shrugs): It’s possible . . .
NURSE: Because your health is what matters.
RYAN: What else?
NURSE (A beat, sighs): What it comes down to . . . no one
knows, really . . . (Pause.) What I mean is . . . it’s been almost two
days now since the accident and no one’s come . . . coming
forward . . . about it . . . (A beat.) From what I’ve read and heard
. . .
RYAN: Well, that’s not surprising with me . . . lately. People have
careers to protect . . . Dangerous knowing me if you want to keep
your job, much less . . . advance . . . much less . . . (Pause.) . . .
much less . . . (Pause.) Have _ do you happen to know _ have the
police spoken to me? They wanted to speak to me _ that’s what
she . . . (Searches.) . . . Robin . . . said.
NURSE: Not to my knowledge. You don’t know?
RYAN: No. I think perhaps . . . I don’t think so . . . I’ve been to the
hospital? . . .
NURSE: Of course _ you know that. I just said _
RYAN: Do I know that? . . . I don’t know much . . . (Pause.) How
much time do I have?
NURSE: That’s an absurd question, especially for a `genius’ . . . If
there was any doubt about that, you’d still be in the hospital, for
sure.
RYAN: It’s just that . . . something’s happening . . . going on
. . . (Looks at her, smiles): You just sounded like my first wife _
Donna.
NURSE (Also smiles): How many have you had?
RYAN: You really want to know?
NURSE: Well, I was going to ask you to do the usual thing in
cases like this _ recite the alphabet, count to ten. You know,
every few hours or so. But if you want to count wives instead, that
would let you off lightly _ let me off lightly _ if you’ve had less than
ten.
RYAN (Thinks, smiles): I’ve . . . this is funny _ maybe a godsend
_ but I think I’ve lost count. You know, the . . . (Gestures to his
head.) . . . fall.
NURSE: Don’t worry. Typical concussion case . . . Are you
married now? The papers don’t say.
RYAN: I’m not sure . . .
NURSE (Laughs): Classic concussion case, for sure.
RYAN: I mean, I don’t know if it’s gone through _ this last . . .
(Searches for the word.)
NURSE: Divorce? . . .
RYAN (Bitterly): Yes . . . last I recall, was in the throes of . . .
a . . . (Searches for word.) . . . a . . . divorce.
NURSE (Smiles, strokes his forehead once, then takes her hand
away.) Please. Try to relax. Do it sitting up. Reasons of
observation. We don’t want you sleeping just yet. A precaution.
I’m the one observing. That’s part of my job.
RYAN: And waiting?
NURSE: I do a lot of that, too . . . (Ruefully.) That’s for sure . . .
RYAN (Pause): I feel . . . (Pause, moves a hand across his
eyes.)
Lighting change. The Nurse steps back.
NURSE (From a distance): Don’t drift off, please don’t close your
eyes.
RYAN: I suppose I should thank you, John.
NURSE: And please keep John out of it.
Persons steps forward, studies Ryan for a
few moments.
PERSONS: What’s that, Ryan ? _ I caught you drifting there a bit.
Thought we might have lost you _ I mean, you lost me. Your
imagination’s not what it used to be.
RYAN (Not looking at him): Do you mean . . . memory?
PERSONS: Almost the same thing, don’t you think?
RYAN (Smiles): Maybe . . .
PERSONS: The great ones _ they have . . . had . . . both. You
were one of those, but you’ve lost one . . . or another . . . I hope
not both . . . that could be the end.
RYAN: You said . . .
NURSE (Sounding far away, almost an echo): Eyes open, please!
. . . Thank you and keep them that way. I’ll get you . . . something
to drink . . .
She stands off.
PERSONS: She cares about you, Ryan. Another one falling for
you . . . amazing . . .
RYAN: I think you said . . . you said you’d see that I was
remembered.
PERSONS: Considering it . . . No commitment yet . . . No
promises . . . “Maybe’s” the best I can do for you now. (Pause.)
Or for anyone else, for that matter.
RYAN (Smiles, amused despite himself): John. You’re a kind of
mad dream, aren’t you? A sort of devastation?
PERSONS (Considers it, somewhat amused himself): I don’t
know, am I? Perhaps. (Moves around a bit, pauses, considers.)
Ryan, remember we both gave speeches once, a convention
somewhere . . . Miami or Boston or somewhere _ one of the stops
in the early days anyway, when it was all still so new . . . And you
looked out at all those faces, all those hopeful upturned faces with
their pasty complexions and big ideas, and you said, “There’s
room for all of us. There are opportunities for all of us in this
business. There’s so much we can do. We’re only at the
threshold. It’s just the beginning” . . . You were inspiring, I give
you that. My God, you made it sound like we were capable of
saving the world.
A silence. Ryan says nothing.
PERSONS: They loved you for that . . . those people . . . for
saying that they were going to be part of it . . . for giving them
hope. I’ve never had that, that ability to inspire, so I’ve had to be
. . . had to cultivate other talents. (Pause.) But I understood my
weaknesses . . . limitations . . . and did something about them,
whereas you . . . you didn’t. Simply didn’t bother. I guess you
thought the world would accommodate you, but it doesn’t work
that way.
A silence. Ryan says nothing.
PERSONS: Anyway, I followed you to the podium and, and what
did I say, Ryan? Do you recall? (Pause.) Ryan?
RYAN (Some head pain, looking down, pause): What I said,
John?
PERSONS (Irritated): Not what you said, Ryan _ we just went
over that. You’re not concentrating very well, are you? What I
said.
RYAN: Well . . . (Pause, looks up, off.) I think it was . . . it’s been
so long . . . was it something like, “Sorry, Ryan . . . there’s only
room for one in this business”?
PERSONS: Good. You can remember when you want to, can’t
you? And how did that crowd respond, Ryan? . . .
RYAN: I’m sorry, I _
PERSONS (A sudden anger and passion): It _ they _ laughed,
Ryan! I told them, I warned them _ and you. I put it out there. I
didn’t give them false hope like . . . Well, not that you did . . .
intentionally . . . I think you believed what you said . . . But . . . it’s
. . . what you told them . . . it was nowhere, Ryan. A dead end.
Time has proved me right. (Pause.) There was even press there,
for God’s sake. They laughed. All of them, including the press _
including you. Do you remember that? Because I sure do. (A
beat.) I told you _ all of you _ there was only room for one . . . for
me . . . I was proud of that _ proud of myself for being forthright
. . . honest about my intentions . . . and none of you took me
seriously.
RYAN: Now I remember _ you laughed when you said that, John
. . . You smiled.
PERSONS: And?
RYAN: That’s why they laughed.
PERSONS (Interested): What’s the point? They didn’t take me
seriously?
RYAN: Of course they took you seriously. They laughed because
you laughed. They feared you _ it was nervous laughter . . .
forced . . .
PERSONS: Did you laugh?
RYAN: Sure, but because I didn’t believe you. They were smarter
than me. I’ve always been stupid that way _ lie to me and I
believe you, tell the truth and . . . (Gestures.)
PERSONS (Irritated): You didn’t believe me? Christ, Ryan.
RYAN: How could I? I couldn’t _ still don’t _ see how anyone _ in
all seriousness _ could believe something that . . . that narrow
and confining _ I mean, room for only one in a field so vast, with
so much potential for good, with so much talent eager to
contribute. What kind of ego claims that? It would be a crime to
put that into one person’s, one company’s hands . . .
PERSONS: Nothing gets done your way, Ryan. . . . that’s
anarchy.
RYAN: Have you ever heard of “creative chaos”?
PERSONS (Impatiently): Whatever the process, usually just one
emerges. A dominant figure. Look at history . . . Besides, how
many of those so-called creative types that were in that audience
that day, Ryan _ how many do you think are still with us? . . . Not
many . . . You’re among the last.
RYAN: What do you mean by `still with us’?
PERSONS: Still in the field, of course.
RYAN: Still in the field? Screw the field _ some of them are dead,
John.
PERSONS: Yes, that may be.
RYAN: Died while young, John _ a few by their own hand . . .
hands.
PERSONS: Right.
RYAN: Disillusioned . . . depressed . . . betrayed . . . fucked over
. . .
PERSONS (Weary): It happens, Ryan, it happens.
Simultaneously, Nurse approaches with a glass
as Persons backs away and lighting changes.
PERSONS (His voice becoming distant): Are you blaming me for
them?
NURSE: Open your eyes, please.
PERSONS: Are you blaming me for you?
NURSE: Now!
PERSONS: Because if you are _ remember, Ryan, I’m the one
who decides . . .
NURSE: Drink this, please.
PERSONS: . . . and I don’t forget . . . I thought you understood
this . . . I thought you realized . . .
Persons is gone. Ryan drinks from glass, looks
at her. She waits a few moments.
NURSE: How do you feel?
RYAN: I feel a . . . a slight buzz. (He smiles at her.) That was
quick.
NURSE: Is it a good or a bad buzz? (Noticing his smile.) Oh _
right, it must be good.
RYAN: As good as I’ve felt in some time . . . Is it legal?
NURSE: You must be feeling very good. It will relax you. You can
sleep now, if you wish, but I will have to wake you now and then.
(She pushes the hair back off his forehead.) Just to check.
Nothing to worry about.
She leaves. Lighting change. A few moments of
silence.
JIM’S VOICE: Ryan, we can’t afford to delay any longer _ we
need to sell now.
RYAN: Sell? What do you mean?
Donna and Jim both move forward, Donna
somewhat reluctantly.
JIM: The bottom’s falling out. The company’s at fifty-million and
slipping. We have to do something about it _ soon.
RYAN: It’s amazing to be in trouble and be worth fifty million _ or
maybe it’d be more amazing the other way around.
JIM: Our reputation’s a bit shaky. Word’s out you’re not . . . you.
Next month at this time it could be forty. And the month after that
_
RYAN: Right . . .
JIM: Sinking ship . . . You forget, but there was a time we were
pushing a couple hundred million.
RYAN: I don’t forget. Those were the days . . . cover of . . . cover
of . . . (Pause.) . . . what? . . . something . . .
DONNA (Pause): But we’re fine, Ryan.
RYAN: Us. Financially . . . that’s what you mean.
They assent through silence.
RYAN: Well . . .
JIM: But there are others, Ryan, who aren’t, who are heavily
invested.
DONNA: Non-partners, people not on the board. But good people
who trusted us . . . believed in us . . .
JIM: Mortgages, college education funds, you know, tied up _
with _ in _ us . . . We can’t let those people lose everything.
DONNA: We can survive it, they can’t.
JIM: We should have sued when we could . . .
Donna gives him a look.
RYAN: Oh, right _ sue. I forgot about that. (Brightly hopeful.) Too
late?
JIM (Smiles ruefully, glances at Donna): Oh, yes, missed the
seven-year window some time ago. By six or seven years. Went
by like that. Papers sat on the lawyer’s desk. Sat and sat. He
didn’t know what to do _ out of his depth. And we, we weren’t
much better _ we sat and sat, did nothing.
DONNA: Jim . . .
RYAN: I said, screw them. I’ll come up with something new,
something even greater. There’s more where that came from, for
God’s sake.
DONNA: But there has been, Ryan . . . you’ve developed . . .
innovated . . . educational programs for kids, an encyclopedia of
the internet _
JIM (To Donna, interjecting): But nothing to top himself. Not the
next brilliant concept. That’s what he’s talking about and that
hasn’t happened. We had to have that. Well, we had it, but he _
we _ gave it away.
DONNA (Irritably): Nothing was given away. It was taken . . .
everyone knows that . . . the law wasn’t clear . . . You just said
as much . . . and Ryan’s not done, and it can’t be just on his
shoulders.
JIM (Shrugs): You usually get just one great concept, even the
`geniuses.’ Whitney the cotton gin, Franklin electricity, Morse the
code, Farnsworth the TV _
RYAN (Very dry, distant, ticking them off): Edison the telegraph
transmitter _ phonograph player _ incandescent lamp _ alkaline
battery _ talking movie pictures _ microphone . . . the, the
whatever he set his mind to . . .
A silence.
DONNA (Pause): You’ve been ill, Ryan . . . You’ve been sick.
JIM (To Donna): Which is why we need to get this done as soon
as possible . . . We can’t . . . sustain . . .
RYAN (Pause): And _ again _ you want me to . . . ?
JIM: Not want _ what we want is no longer . . . anything. It’s what
we need to do.
RYAN: Sell it? Sell the company now?
DONNA (A beat): There’s no choice, Ryan.
JIM: That or stand by and watch it die . . . better someone else
have it than that.
A silence. They both look at him.
RYAN: If that happens we get out OK, but the others _ the others,
they lose?
JIM: Right. If we could get, say, twenty-seven, hell, twenty-five
million, that would protect them, get them their money back. And
the buyer will be getting a wonderful deal . . . a steal, actually . . .
having the stability we lack.
RYAN: Selling a life’s work _ it would include everything we’ve
done, everything we have in development . . .
JIM: Everything? . . . I don’t know . . . we could hold back on
some of the latter, perhaps . . . Some of those . . . concepts . . .
that we’ve been working on that are . . . well . . . not quite there
yet . . . I mean, who’d know?
Ryan looks at him.
JIM (A beat): OK _ but you can’t give them those things that are
still in your head, that are not on paper. They don’t get that for
their lousy twenty-five million. Please don’t screw yourself again,
Ryan. You keep saying “screw them”, but you’re the one who
gets it. You screw yourself. Don’t give them what’s still up here _
that’s still yours.
RYAN (Pause): No . . . not that . . . they can’t have that . . . .
(Smiles, taps his head.) If it’s still there . . . big question.
A silence. They watch him, waiting.
RYAN (Catches himself): Oh, right _ business.
Lighting begins to change.
RYAN (A long pause): There’s . . . well, there’s only one person
I know who could write a check for . . . that amount . . . just
. . . like . . . that. Just . . . write . . . it. (Pause, he smiles slightly,
ruefully.)
A silence. They watch him as he looks down,
considers.
RYAN (Pause, shrugs): OK, that’s settled _ meeting’s concluded.
JIM: You never did like long meetings.
RYAN: Meetings period. (Pause.) OK, I’ll fly up and see him.
(Pause.)
DONNA (Pause): Don’t fly yourself, Ryan.
RYAN (Smiles): Don’t worry. Haven’t you heard? _ my pilot’s
license’s been revoked . . . health reasons . . .
The Nurse approaches, then waits in a separate
light. Donna exchanges a look with Jim, who hesitates,
then steps back.
DONNA: Ryan . . .
RYAN: Yes?
DONNA: The papers are going through . . . when you return, our
divorce should be final.
RYAN: Oh, right. (Pause.)
DONNA: I don’t think we’ll see each other again . . . (A beat.) Do
you? . . .
RYAN: No. Well, by chance . . .
DONNA: Take care of yourself . . .
RYAN (Pause): Thank you . . . you too . . .
Lighting change as Donna steps back.
NURSE (After a moment): Did you doze?
RYAN: No . . . (Begins to struggle to his feet.) I’m going to the
airport. I have to fly to _
NURSE: To the where? . . . The airport? (Smiles.) Oh, you’ve
been dozing, for sure.
RYAN: Oh, yes, I suppose . . . I thought I was . . . .
NURSE: Yes. I know _ going to the airport . . . not tonight you’re
not.
He stands cautiously.
NURSE: Steady . . .
RYAN: What are they saying?
NURSE: About what?
RYAN: There’s not been something more? . . .
NURSE (Pause, considers): They _ the radio _ say there’s going
to be a formal investigation.
RYAN: Of my death?
NURSE: Of the accident.
RYAN: It will come to the same thing . . . no? . . . accidental
death?
NURSE: No! . . . (Pause.) Let’s hope not, shall we?
Ryan falls to his knees.
NURSE (Going to him): But I think we do have a problem here.
She drops to one knee, tries to support him.
NURSE: Look at me.
RYAN (Trying to rise): I have to get to the airport. I’m a pilot, you
know.
NURSE: You’re a grounded pilot _ Isn’t that obvious to you?
RYAN: I have to see John . . . to sell the . . . people depending on
it . . .
NURSE (She tries to look into his eyes): You’ve seen John _ that
was years ago . . . John is a very powerful man now _ he would
not see you. I do not even think he is presently in the country. He
is done with you. Don’t waste your . . . strength on him. (She
snaps her fingers in front of his face.) Wake up! _ now! _ quit
dreaming!
RYAN (Small smile): `He wouldn’t see me?’ . . . I see you’ve been
doing your homework, Nurse Helen.
NURSE: But not my job. You distracted me . . . You’re good at
that . . .
RYAN: Like that bird . . . the . . .
NURSE: No talking about birds. (Takes his head in her hands.)
Your eyes are glassy. (Pause.) Tell me about that bird . . .
RYAN: I thought . . .
NURSE: I changed my mind . . . And look at me while you do it!
. . . What is it called?
RYAN: It’s called . . . called . . .
NURSE: Yes? It’s called?
RYAN: A . . . (Mild triumph.) . . . a . . . killdeer!
NURSE: And the killdeer is good at _ what? (Waits.) Distracting
people, isn’t it? . . . That’s what it does!
RYAN (Boyish smile): Yes _ predators. Throwing people off its
trail . . . faking injury . . .
NURSE: Just like you, right? . . . (Pause, still looking into his eyes
_ with deep concern.) Well, no more . . . No more killdeer. This is
very real . . . I’m going to make a phone call, Ryan. You will sit _
and wait _ understand?
RYAN: So I’m dying . . .
NURSE: No, you are not dying. But it’s not good. We need to get
you to . . . Look at me _ I want to see your eyes again! (Looks into
his eyes, a beat.) Maybe a mild hemorrhage . . . be quiet and sit
still.
RYAN (Smiles): First a mild concussion . . . and now . . . is there
such a thing as a mild hemorrhage? . . .
NURSE: It’s possible . . . for one to lead into the other . . . (She
brushes the hair back from his forehead, looks at him, pauses.)
Don’t stand. Let’s hope, shall we? That’s important. You’re better
off where you are . . . Don’t exert yourself _ we want to keep your
heart rate down. That’s important too. I’ll be back in a few
minutes.
RYAN: Another ambulance?
NURSE: Yes.
RYAN (Smiles): If you don’t mind, I’d rather not _ I didn’t like the
last ride.
NURSE: You’re not supposed to like it.
She goes, completely leaving the stage.
A radical lighting change, moody with a blue or green
tint. Persons steps forward into Ryan’s space, will
look “at” Ryan in this scene as if Ryan is standing,
at eye level. Ryan remains on the floor, looks straight
ahead.
RYAN: . . . Could be hurt, John . . . People deeply invested, life
savings tied up . . .
PERSONS: Sad, Ryan, sad sad, but what does that have to do
with? . . .
RYAN: I’m fine . . . rest of the board . . . all taken care of . . .
PERSONS: Question remains the same . . . (Looks at
wristwatch.) I assume, you fly this distance . . . you have
something . . . .
Ryan makes an effort to rise, can’t.
PERSONS (Said flatly, metalically): . . . . something difficult for
you to say . . . hang-up you have . . . Where’s the devil-may-care
. . . ? (Shaking his head, now ironically.) Grounded . . . abusing
your gifts . . . Someone like you, given that kind of genius, one in
a million _ hundred million _ and pfitt! (Shakes his head, starts
off.) Ask Donna . . . I warned you . . . Long time ago. You should
have listened. Look, I have people waiting . . .
RYAN: John! . . .
Persons hesitates.
RYAN: The company, John! Twenty-five million for the company _
to you. Worth almost double that . . . easy!
PERSONS (Stops, interested): Really? For everything? . . .
RYAN: Yes . . .
PERSONS: Everything . . . all patents . . . all projects in
development? . . .
RYAN makes an effort to rise, can’t.
RYAN (Frustrated, as he falls back onto his knees): Yes!
PERSONS (A beat, cocks his head): Projects you inaugurated?
. . . we can’t do it if it doesn’t include projects you _
RYAN: Yes! . . .
PERSONS: Holding nothing back?
Ryan doesn’t respond, stares straight ahead,
his eyes dull, glassy.
PERSONS: Of course _ not you. Not Ryan . . . Stupid of me . . . I
apologize for the remark. (Pause.) What about? _ what about, you
know, what’s still in your head? . . . (Pause.) Ryan?
Ryan doesn’t respond, stares straight ahead.
PERSONS (Smiles): No, I guess not. That would be asking a lot
. . . though there has to be a question of . . .
RYAN (Smiles, slowly): What’s left there, yes . . .
Persons nods. Ryan makes a weaker effort to stand.
Persons studies him dispassionately.
PERSONS: One thing I have to know, Ryan _ why would you
come to me with this opportunity?
RYAN: Because I think I finally understand business, John . . .
and . . . and you’re the person who can write the check . . .
PERSONS: Yes? And?
RYAN: And . . . (Pause.) . . . and I still . . . I don’t know . . . I still
had some kind of hope . . .
PERSONS: Well . . . (Studies him a moment.) I’ll tell you what,
Ryan, I’ll tell you _ I’d like to do it, I really would . . . but you’ve
weakened that company of yours considerably, and I can’t _ I am
responsible to other people, too, you know, just as you are _ and I
can’t justify . . . justify that kind of money on a company that’s
faltering . . . (Pause.) So I’ll tell you what I’ll do, out of respect for
our past friendship, our shared . . . tribulations _ I’ll write a check
right now (Pulls a pen and checkbook from his suit coat pocket),
this minute, for . . . say, twelve million dollars _ and the deal is
done.
A silence broken by the audible click of
Persons’ pen. He clicks it several times.
Ryan waits a moment then smiles.
PERSONS: Why are you smiling, Ryan?
RYAN (Pause): Because . . . because, John, you know what the
company’s worth _ and that I’m going to tell you . . . to go fuck
yourself.
PERSONS (Pause): I think you probably will . . . (Small smile.) . . .
did . . . and that’s . . . that’s unfortunate.
RYAN: You are making a bad business decision, John.
PERSONS: Perhaps.
RYAN (Taking a great effort): It will go to someone else _ a
competitor _ and that competitor will come after you like I wouldn’t
. . . should have, but didn’t.
PERSONS: Perhaps.
RYAN: And cost you money.
PERSONS: Maybe.
RYAN: Money, John.
PERSONS (Immovable): Right. I hear you, Ryan.
Ryan tries to rise.
RYAN (Pause, he tries to concentrate, then smiles): You know . . .
it’s kind of funny, John _ I think I just said I finally understood
business . . .
PERSONS: And?
RYAN: Well, if I do . . . well then I have to ask myself . . . why
would John Persons . . . a business genius . . . intentionally make
a bad business decision? . . . What does John Persons have to
gain by that? . . .
PERSONS (Pause): I guess, Ryan . . . (A beat.) I guess you’ll
never know.
A silence, then Persons clicks pen _ the sound
again heightened _ and replaces it and checkbook
in his suit coat pocket. Sound of a siren in
the distance. Ryan tilts his head in the direction
of the sound; Persons does not hear it.
PERSONS: But If you want to be remembered . . . (Light dimming
on him.) If you don’t want people to . . .
The stage begins to darken.
PERSONS: . . . don’t want people to forget . . . because, Ryan,
they do . . .
Persons steps back and watches with others.
Ryan tries to rise, but can’t.
RYAN (After a few moments): That’s something I . . . I don’t . . . I
simply . . . don’t . . . can’t . . . understand . . . what you would
have to gain by that . . .
The Nurse approaches tentatively. Ryan tries to rise
but can’t. The siren draws nearer then winds down as
the pulsating lights from the ambulance flash through
the room, at first with the rhythm of a heartbeat, then
steadily decreasing.
Ryan’s head drops slowly as his body folds into
itself, then remains still.
End of Play
John Steinbeck and the Visual Arts in Monterey County
Video: John Steinbeck and Monterey County’s Visual Arts
John Steinbeck numbered artists among his friends all of his life. In this video on Steinbeck and the visual arts in California by the Monterey History and Art Association and Museum of Monterey, I tried to cover some of the talented painters who were important to John Steinbeck during his years in Pacific Grove and Monterey in the 1930s. Many of these artists were among the group that gathered around Steinbeck and Ed Ricketts, the great marine biologist, and Ricketts’ Pacific Biological Laboratory (and home) on Monterey’s Cannery Row. Several of them became major Steinbeck portraitists. Why did John Steinbeck have so many artist friends in Monterey County? Well, in many ways they spoke the same language, Steinbeck being a great literary landscapist who was attracted to the visual arts. But I think, also, that the times were dangerous for Steinbeck, and artists were people he could not only feel comfortable with, but safe. This video is part of a Museum of Monterey series called The 100-Story Project initiated by Mark D. Baer. The 100-Story Project captured much of Monterey County’s colorful history and so, unavoidably, some of John Steinbeck’s as well.
