Five Television Plays (David Mamet) (11 page)

Born an’
raised
in the country. Yup. Doan tell
me
’bout country life. Uh
-uh. Hate
it in the country. Got out firs’ chance I got.

(
They approach the farm.
)

Smoke, noise,
action,
some kine
movement . .
. you see what I'm gettin’ at?

A
LBERT:
Yes.

R
UDY:
You hungry?

A
LBERT:
I . . . uh . . . a little. I'm a bit confused.

R
UDY:
You wan’ a chaw?

A
LBERT:
No thank you.

(
They come upon a pastoral scene at the farm
[
appropriately enough
]
. Six or eight aged hippies dressed in denim overalls and grown a bit paunchy
[
perhaps led by Bruce Vilanch
]
are seated at a table covered with dishes full of candy bars, Twinkies, etc., and pitchers of Pepsi.
J
OHN,
the leader of the farmers, approaches
R
UDY
and
A
LBERT.
)

J
OHN:
Rudy.

R
UDY:
Evenin’, John.

J
OHN:
Who's your friend?

R
UDY:
Frien’
of mine.

A
LBERT:
Albert Litko, I got locked in.

J
OHN:
Glad to meet you.

A
LBERT:
Likewise.

J
OHN:
Sit down, sit down.

(A
LBERT
sits down.
)

Make yourself at home, any friend of Rudy's is always welcome.

R
UDY:
Glad to hear you say that, John.

J
OHN:
Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it.

R
UDY:
That so?

J
OHN:
Yes. (
To
A
LBERT:
) Dig in, dig in. Bet you aren't used to country food, eh?

A
LBERT:
No
.

J
OHN:
No two ways about it
.
No substitute for it. Eh, Rudy?

R
UDY:
Hate
the country.

J
OHN:
Cloris! Cloris, bring these boys some milk. (
To
A
LBERT:
) Never too old for milk.

(C
LORIS,
an attractive woman in her early thirties, decked out in hippie farm fashion, appears with a pitcher full of Pepsi.
C
LORIS
pours a glass of Pepsi for
A
LBERT.
)

A
LBERT:
This is not milk.

J
OHN:
I know that.

A
LBERT:
This is Pepsi.

J
OHN:
Of course it's Pepsi. If you only use the common sense God gave you you will see that yonder cows are about as fradulent as they could ever
be.
They're made of
wood.
They cannot
give
milk. We
know
this.

R
UDY:
Can't
get
milk from a cow like that.

A
LBERT:
I see that.

R
UDY:
Only thing you get is disappointed.

A
LBERT:
I can see that.

J
OHN
(
to
A
LBERT
)
:
Would you please pass the milk pitcher. (A
LBERT
does so; to assembled
F
ARMERS:
) Friends, I think it would not be inappropriate at this point to offer a small display of gratitude for this meal which we enjoy.

(
The
F
ARMERS
stop and sing “The Farmers Song.” The song of how good it is to get back to the land and discover one's roots and embrace nature. When they finish their song,
A
LBERT
pulls
R
UDY
aside and interrogates him.
)

A
LBERT:
Who are these people?

R
UDY:
Farmers. Live in the Farm.

A
LBERT:
Uh, where do they come from?

R
UDY:
Mosly they folk wander over from the University Chicago, side to stay.

A
LBERT:
What are they
doing
here?

R
UDY:
They farmin’. That one he puts bunches of knots in string, and they got a girl signed to make up poems ‘bout the reaper. They real into handicraft.

(J
OHN
rises and sings “The Song of the Arid Intellectual Life.” The following dialogue takes place in back of his first chorus:
)

A
LBERT:
But they can't live off
farming.

R
UDY:
They live off th’ vending machines downstairs.

A
LBERT:
Oh.

R
UDY:
See, you got John a little mad, talkin’ bout the milk. Milk machine's buss, so they got to drink Pepsi.

A
LBERT:
Oh.

(J
OHN
finishes “The Song of the Arid Intellectual Life, “ and sits down to the approbation of his comrades.
)

R
UDY:
Real well sung, John.

J
OHN:
I'm glad you think so. (
To
A
LBERT:
) So
,
what do
you
do?

A
LBERT:
I'm locked in.

J
OHN
(
as to some novelty
): Oh!

A
LBERT:
Could you help me get out?

J
OHN:
It would be my pleasure to.

R
UDY:
Please pass the Twinkies.

A
LBERT:
Thank you.

J
OHN:
Not at all. Cloris!

(C
LORIS
appears.
)

C
LORIS:
John?

J
OHN:
This is . . .

A
LBERT:
Albert Litko.

(C
LORIS
nods.
)

J
OHN:
Albert has been locked in . . .

C
LORIS:
Uh huh . . .

J
OHN:
And would like to be shown the way out.

C
LORIS:
Glad to do it.

J
OHN
(
rising
): You're in good hands.

A
LBERT:
I'm sure. I, uh, well . . . (
He rises and moves to
C
LORIS.
To
R
UDY:
) Well, It's been a pleasure meeting you.

R
UDY
(
rising from his plate
): Likewise.

(C
LORIS
begins to lead
A
LBERT
out of the museum. As they move away from the table and into the darkened museum we hear the eating noises of the
F
ARMERS
in the background:
’Anybody want a Snickers?”
etc.
)

A
LBERT:
Someone threw a boomerang at us earlier.

C
LORIS:
Goddamn Potawatamies.

A
LBERT:
Oh. Does, uh, does anybody know you people are in here?

C
LORIS:
Well, of course.

A
LBERT:
Oh.

C
LORIS:
We are not loafers, we are not moochers. We are not here at the whim of some demented officialdom. We perform a useful agrarian function.

A
LBERT:
Yes?

C
LORIS:
Yes. Many things. We, uh . . . we polish the
cows . . . Many
things . . .

(
As they walk past the entrance to the coal mine they hear singing. They see a group of old men
[
some in wheelchairs
]
clustered around the entrance, and before them, on a soapbox, is
T
IMMY,
a seventy-year-old man dressed in the style of the thirties. He has on baggy pants, suspenders, a shirt with the collar detached, and a battered felt hat on the back of his head. He is trying to lead the men before him in a rendition of “Miner's Life.”
)

A
LBERT:
What's that?

C
LORIS:
Miners’ meeting.

A
LBERT:
Could we watch for a minute?

C
LORIS:
You're the guest.

(
They stop and listen. The song is finished, and
T
IMMY
starts to speak.
)

T
IMMY:
World's full of freeloaders, friends: “Lemme see what the Union's going to do for me.” Full of fellas kind enough bet on a sure thing came in yesterday. Well, friends, this does not work. This ain't going to make you
happy,
and it ain't going to make you
strong,
and it ain't going to build a
Union,
and there's no way in the
world
it will. No sir. You don't get strong unless you do the work yourself . . . it's the same if you're down at the
face,
and it's the same if you're on a picket line. Brothers, here's how you get strong: (
Espies
C
LORIS.
) Evening, Cloris.

C
LORIS:
Evening, Timmy.

(
The
M
INERS,
severally, say hello to
C
LORIS,
she acknowledges them.
)

T
IMMY
(
to
C
LORIS
)
:
Where was I?

C
LORIS:
Right before “You get strong if you
are
strong.”

T
IMMY:
Thank you. (
To
M
INERS:
) Friends, you get strong if you
are
strong . . . (
To
C
LORIS
)
:
Who's your friend?

A
LBERT:
Albert Litko, I got locked in.

C
LORIS:
I'm getting him out.

T
IMMY
(
confidentially, to
C
LORIS
)
:
Nice lookin’ fella.

C
LORIS;
Not bad.

T
IMMY
(
To
A
LBERT
)
:
Timmy O'Shea.

A
LBERT:
Pleased to meet you.

(
They shake hands.
)

T
IMMY:
Rest of the group: Lars Svenson, Bo Lund, Stosh Zabisco . . . feller in the funny hat's named Harry.

H
ARRY:
Hiya, Pal.

A
LBERT:
Hi.

T
IMMY
(
to
A
LBERT
)
:
Why don't you sit
down a
minute. Holdin’ a meeting.

A
LBERT:
Well, thanks, but we're kind of. . . uh, what Union do you work for?

T
IMMY:
Don't work for any union.
Used to
work for the U.M. W of A. Now, I'm on a pension, same's these fellas here. Siddown. (
To
M
INERS:
) Friends:

A
LBERT:
Do you guys actually mine coal in here?

T
IMMY:
Nope. All show. Miners're real, though.

S
TOSH:
Goddamn right.

T
IMMY:
Known Stosh all my life. Grew up together.

A
LBERT:
And he never joined the Union?

S
TOSH:
Joined the Union 1928. Mass Meeting. John L. on the Dais. Never forget it. Fought all m'life. Dug, fought . . .

A
LBERT:
You're a Union member?

B
O
: Ve vas
all
Union.

A
LBERT:
But, then, what's the lecture for?

T
IMMY:
Pass the time . . . old times . . . bringing back old times. Just passing the time . . .

B
O
: Ve vas
all
in de Union.

A
LBERT:
And, uh, what do you do in the Museum now?

T
IMMY:
Reminisce.

A
LBERT:
Ah.

T
IMMY:
Yup.

H
ARRY:
We're doin’ a little
reminiscin .
Ain't been inside a mine, 1952. ‘Tober fourth, 1952. Worked 21 years in the mines.

(T
IMMY
starts to sing “The Song of the Thirties.” The song of the depression, the little steel strike, and violent labor troubles, Ethiopia, Spain, the Lincoln Brigade.
)

Yup. Had things happen to me you wouldn't believe. Seen things
I
didn't believe. West Virginia . . . Pennsylvania . . . spent sixty-two hours once in a four-foot seam . . .

(
The
M
INERS
join
T
IMMY
in song.
)

L
ARS:
Feller must share de action and excitement of his time, on pain of having been judged not to have lived. Oliver Vendell Holmes, a great American.

T
IMMY
(
to
A
LBERT
)
:
What do
you
do?

A
LBERT:
Well, I'm out of work right now.

H
ARRY:
No shame in that.

A
LBERT:
No
.

H
ARRY:
Might as well be, though, huh?

A
LBERT:
Yes.

T
IMMY:
You know anything about organizing? I like the way you look.