CHARACTERS

LARA LONIGAN—Owner of the motel. A very mature lady. She is healthy as a horse, and knows she’s still got more life to live—she’s not happy about being alone, but accepts her lot and makes the best of it she can.

CAROLINE COOPER—Red headed and hot tempered, Caroline manages a real estate development company in Suburban Detroit. She wants to be normal, but she tries way too hard. Borderline clinically depressed and suffering from a mild panic disorder. She doesn’t want to stay how she is, but she’s too ashamed to admit it.

DEPUTY MAX BYRNE—A Deputy of the Michigan State Police stationed in Ironwood. Single, originally from Canada. Shy and unassuming, he is honest, responsible, and takes his job very seriously. Speaks with long O’s and lots of “eh’s” thrown in.

FRANK WILLIAMS—The mysterious guest who stepped out of an Eddie Bauer catalogue. He has the charisma of a movie star: tall, athletic, and quietly intense. He will look gruff and dangerous and scruffy at first, but should be able to clean up rather quickly. (Also plays the VOICE OF HARRY RUNNINGHORSE)

Three CHILDREN in spacesuits, ages 3-6

SETTING

The lobby of a roadside cabin-style motel along the northern coast of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, between Silver City and Ontonagon, just short of the Porcupine Mountains.

A view of beautiful fall-colored trees and Lake Superior is visible through picture window that dominates the room.

TIME
The mid-to-late 1990’s. Late Fall/Early Winter

Rights to popular songs and cultural references must be secured separately. Substitutions may be made at the producer’s discretion.

A two-act play
with traditional and popular music
of 19th Century America

Staged reading, The Pollyanna Theatre Company, directed by Judy Matetzschk.

Characters:

Sarah Josepha Hale: She is eternally young looking, but obviously mature. Dressed in black, she is the living image of a Victorian silhouette. Very well educated, equal to that of an Ivy League college. She wants to better women’s position in the world, particularly through education and employment. But she also loves her family, and wants them to be successful and happy.

Richard Hunter/Young Richard: (played by a child and an adult) Grandson to Sarah Josepha Hale, son of Francis. His grandmother’s favorite.

David Hale: Country lawyer. Husband to Sarah.

David Emerson Hale: Sarah’s oldest son. A caretaker, eventually a soldier.

Josepha Hale: Sarah’s eldest daughter. Studious, eventually uses a wheelchair.

Horatio Hale: Sarah’s third child, eventually an explorer.

Frances Ann Hale Hunter: Sarah’s youngest daughter, eventually a homemaker.

Young William/William Hale: (played by a child and an adult) Sarah’s youngest son, eventually a lawyer.

Hannah Hale: Sarah’s sister in law. Very good with her hands, a craftswoman.

Louis Godey: (Pronounced Gu-day) Editor/Businessman. A jolly well-groomed gentleman of French decent (but no trace of an accent remains). He is a good man, but practices the “scissors” editing popular of the times: he steals from other sources without paying the writers.

Emma Willard: Sarah’s best friend, one-and-a-half years older, but looks more so. She wears glasses, the typical school marm. She is very serious and forward-thinking: willing to take the risks necessary for her cause. Her goal is to provide full educational opportunities for women; no matter what the costs.

Lydia Sigourney: Another friend of Sarah’s, married (husband never appears, but must be well-to-do: Lydia should always be the best dressed in the room). A good friend to Sarah, but lives far away, and family duties often pull her away. Is a passionate spokesperson for women’s independence; but does not particularly desire it for herself.

Lowell Mason: Composer of fine Church music. First passion is God.

Oliver Wendell Holmes: Idealistic, patriotic, and several years younger than Sarah. Trained as a medical doctor, but in his heart of hearts, he wants to be a writer.

Edgar Allen Poe: Blustery and wild-eyed with a gift for hyperbole. Advocates for fair wages for writers, a jovial fellow in comparison to his dark and brooding work.

Griswold: A minor writer, social enemy of Poe’s.

Mrs. Owen: Poor New England seaman’s wife, representative of the type of women Sarah advocated for.

Dr. Yates: Very handsome and totally shady.

Elizabeth Oakes Smith: Writer and public speaker. Vocal opponent of Sarah’s conservative stance. More disappointed in her than angry at her.

Nathaniel Hawthorne: Very sexy and seductive, at the brink of his popularity.

Matthew Vassar: Man of wealth. A true philanthropist.

Mysterious Visitor: Most likely, the President of the United States. Clean-shaven, breaking the stereotype, but should wear the customary tall hat. Very troubled by war.

Other minor characters:

Debt Collector
William’s Wife
Movers
Fine Lady
People from the Sale
Soldiers

Suggested Doubling for 10 actors 4W; 6M (1 child):
Sarah Josepha Hale
Richard Hunter/Dr. Yates
Young William/Young Richard
David Hale/Debt Collector/People from the Sale/Oliver Wendell Holmes
Louis Godey/Edgar Allen Poe/David Emerson Hale/Matthew Vassar/Mover
Hannah Hale/Emma Willard/Josepha Hale
Frances Ann Hale Hunter/Fine Lady/Lydia Sigourney
Mrs. Owen/Elizabeth Oakes Smith/People from the Sale/William’s Wife
Hawthorne/Horatio Hale/Mysterious Visitor/People from the Sale/Soldier
Lowell Mason/Griswold/William Hale/Mover/People from the Sale/Soldier

Time:

The play takes place through the memories of Richard Hunter on Thanksgiving Day, on a second floor apartment room, in the year 1880. He tells the story of a period spanning from 1820 to 1863.

Setting:

A replication of a classic Victorian New England Living Room that could be found in Newport, New Hampshire; Boston, Massachusetts; or Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

A Note About Style:

This setting remains the same throughout, even when Sarah moves to other cities. A profound shift of lighting or replacement of certain items of furniture or accessories could give the room a different kind of look from time to time. Richard is really telling the story all at one time, and the actors enter and exit frequently but unobtrusively as he recalls them. It is suggested that in performance, a live orchestra of piano, flute, violin, drum, guitar, bass, and/or banjo be used, with simple arrangements made particularly for each performance. It is intended that the songs spring naturally through the action, and not set apart as musical “numbers.” Dance is encouraged, but should be simple, folksy, well-grounded and informed by the natural action of the scene: playing with a child, setting tables, making dresses, arranging a sale, observing a monument, dancing at a party. Some songs serve as interior monologues, and need no special movement at all.

A one-act satire on arts funding

Developed in conjunction with Frontera@Hyde Park Theater
and the TCG/NEA Playwright Residency Program
Laurie Carlos, Playwright/Director/Artist

Winner, “Best of Fest” — FronteraFest, 1999″
Directed by Emily Cicchini
Featuring Jon Watson, Kristin Johnson, and David Gunderson

CHARACTERS:
TOM–An investor. 38. Well built.
TRIXIE–An architect. 40. Thin.
MERCE–Enough said.

(It’s 6:00 PM. TOM walks in, wearing rich casual, puts down his briefcase and cell phone, in quite-the-perfect open living area/kitchen. Free, lighthearted verbal sparring throughout:)

TOM: Honey? You home yet? Hmm.

(He goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle and some strawberries dipped in creamy brown, pulls out a towel to cover the cork. He puts on some romantic music and does a little victory dance. TRIXIE enters in expensive work out clothes. She sneaks up behind him as he pulls the cork…)

TRIXIE: Gottcha!

TOM: (as cork pops) Whoah! You startled me…

TRIXIE: Consider how boring life would be without a little startle in it.

TOM: Come on. Give me a kiss…Were you working out?

TRIXIE: Dancing…

TOM: Didn’t the doctor tell you to cut back?

TRIXIE: I can’t help it. It makes me feel too good…

TOM: Mmm… And you look good, too… I’ve got news…

TRIXIE: Oh, the Dom…What are you doing? You know I don’t like to get woozy on weekdays…

TOM: I know, I know. But I couldn’t help it. Have a glass…

TRIXIE: No….

TOM: Come on. Just one…

TRIXIE: No, Tom…good news…?

TOM: Sure, good news.

TRIXIE: Okay, okay. Just one. (pause) Well. What is it?

TOM: And look (re: strawberries) Low fat, even…

TRIXIE: No, no no… (he makes her eat one) Mmmm. Must be something profitable.

TOM: What’s for dinner, anyway?

TRIXIE: John Cage. (changes music by remote to Cage)

TOM: I’m serious…

TRIXIE: We’ll just call up the moon and order a delux cheese spread…

TOM: I’ll call Hong’s. They deliver. (dials) Hello, this is Tom Warner, yes, right. How are you? Fine, fine. Give me, two mushu pork, and an order, no, make that two orders of spring rolls. (TRIXIE protests) We’re kinda, celebrating, thanks. (hangs up) I closed today. Quite a big deal.

TRIXIE: Oh, the merger, right? They’re going to get you with the capitol gains…

TOM: Well, that’s true…

TRIXIE: Too bad you can’t do something better than give it to the IRS…

TOM: Oh, I get it. You want something.

TRIXIE: Ah, how well you know me…

TOM: Well, just as long as it doesn’t involve one of your long lost causes…

TRIXIE: Why do you say that?

TOM: You know, like that theatre group back in Seattle. What a black hole…

TRIXIE: Actually, I was thinking more about a Jacuzzi. I just know it would help me relax. You know what a hard time I have relaxing…

TOM: Hey, hey, That’s my job…

TRIXIE: And there was this amazing set of silverware in the Times Magazine…With handles like heavy metal chains…

TOM: Didn’t we just buy silverware last spring…

TRIXIE: Oh, it wasn’t that expensive, something trendy, like, Calvin Kline, you know, for guests…

TOM: Calvin Kline doesn’t make silverware…

TRIXIE: Or Liz Claiborne, someone. I’ll get Pheobe to look it up. I should probably brush up on this Martha Stewart stuff. But it just bores me to no end–I’m only interested in the building. Our interior designer says I’m hopeless…But she’s a total victim of Santa Fe Style…I mean, it seems like its my duty since we moved West to introduce these people to real culture…Well. Listen to me talk about me, me, me. Now what about you?

TOM: Naw. I’ve got everything a man could want…

TRIXIE: Come on. There must be something…

TOM: Naw, not really. Hey. Didn’t you have an appointment today…

TRIXIE: Come on! I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing those BMW’s…

TOM: I know, I know. It doesn’t seem like me. I was always a Jag man,

TRIXIE: What!

TOM: You know, LandRover, be sensible…the mechanics…I mean, forget it.

TRIXIE: You were brainwashed. (She exits behind dressing divider)

TOM: I just loved that ad campaign. A woman drives through flooded streets, dodging big cruise ships with a pounding beat and low, low horns. She comes to a stop, looks up, there’s an old man fishing from the facade of a 30’s or 40’s office building, Chicago, maybe, Cleveland. She winks. She turns left in front of a huge ocean liner, arrives at some kind of theater with spotlights and huge crowds, and on the curb is a huge, red number five. For the new BMW Five. I mean, that is a real work of art.

TRIXIE: (off) It’s a commercial.

TOM: Yeah, but a good one. I can’t figure out why that stopped it so…cold. It ran incessantly for two weeks, than vanished. Saturation, then cut off. I guess that makes you want it even more…

(TRIXIE enters in a sexy Victoria’s Secret lounging outfit)

TRIXIE: I like a message a little more complex than buy a BMW.

TOM: So you think I should buy a BMW?

TRIXIE: Of course I do, if it makes you happy. So. That pretty much takes it all, right?

TOM: Yeah. Except for the other, let’s see, 70 for the BMW, 5 for the Jacuzzi, installed, silverware, what two grand? That leaves about 1.5 mil.

TRIXIE: 1.5….

TOM: Yep. Less the…

TRIXIE: Capitol Gains…oh, baby! (she kisses him) That is a deal! I had no idea!

TOM: I mean, 40 percent. That’s well, incorrigible. Makes you think about the tea party and seceding and all…

TRIXIE: Oh, you. We are in a time of total abundance, the sky is our only limit…

TOM: If we don’t run out of stamina first.

TRIXIE: Life is not about stamina. That’s so rustic. It is about love and devotion to what you are doing. That’s what it means to be a real artist.

TOM: You be whatever you want to be. (He changes music back to romantic, convinces her to dance. They do. After a beat) How was work today?

TRIXIE: Same old, same old. Drew a little, talked a lot, sent some e-mail, faxed something, had lunch with Tony from the winery, and confirmed the date to Melbourne.

TOM: Yeah, great, a whole two weeks…

TRIXIE: It’s not too late for you to come with me. I’m gonna be dying surrounded by architects when what I really want to do is shoot some kangaroos. With my camera, of course…

TOM: No, I can’t. Not now. Too many details to wrap up. These guys were very good to me. I don’t want to mess things up for them.

TRIXIE: Oh, you’re so generous. There’s still time to make reservations…

TOM: I don’t want to go. I don’t want you to go, either.

TRIXIE: I have to, Tom. I just have too…

TOM: Alright. Alright. (beat) What did the doctor say? It was today, right?

TRIXIE: Nothing.

TOM: He’s your third specialist. He has to have said something…

TRIXIE: They just, they don’t know…

TOM: Wasn’t there some new hormone treatment…

TRIXIE: I don’t know. I don’t know. (beat) I didn’t go. Okay? I just didn’t…feel like…bringing the whole thing up again…

TOM: You just didn’t feel like it.

TRIXIE: No. Can’t you just leave it at that? (pause. She puts away the strawberries and the champagne) I’ll go. Next week. I promise. Can you come with me to that dinner on the ninth–for the dance company?

TOM: What?

TRIXIE: Can you come with me to that dinner on the ninth–for the dance company?

TOM: Oh, well, I’ll have to check my calendar…

TRIXIE: It’s important. Deacon will be there, and he just absolutely adores you, you know…He thinks you’re his long lost son. We need him to do a table for the Cactus Gala. We’re trying to bring in Merce…

TOM: Who? Merce Cunningham? I thought he was dead…

TRIXIE: Oh no. He still has his company…

TOM: He must be older than…time itself…

TRIXIE: Oh, no. He’s still a vital contributor to the field. He doesn’t rely on a manipulative story with a climax. It’s like abstract painting, where movement, sound, light is in and of itself expressive. (beat) They’re talking about a residency. He’s actually going to work with our dancers…

TOM: Oh, that’s interesting.

TRIXIE: Commission a whole new piece. Wherever it travels, it will say our name…”Desert Dance Theatre…”

TOM: What’s with the ‘our…’

TRIXIE: It’s so exciting…

TOM: You just got on the board a few months ago. You’re not even President…Treasurer, even…

TRIXIE: They want me to be…I’m an officer…Acting Secretary….

TOM: But aren’t you doing that whole complex for the heart hospital…

TRIXIE: I know, I know…

TOM: I mean, Trix, you gotta look at your priorities here…what does the most good for the most people…I mean, we don’t have unlimited time…

TRIXIE: Another cardiac wing. So people will have a snappy place to recover from years of smoking and eating too much red meat. I’ll just have to resign from the hospital committee, that’s all…

TOM: What has gotten into you…

TRIXIE: Look, honey. Those old boys can take care of it themselves. They’ve got it under control, they don’t need me. They’re not interested in being beautiful or innovative, just in function and the bottom line…Life’s so short. I want to do something that makes people feel better, more alive. The arts do that, don’t you think?

TOM: Maybe. When I’m awake.

TRIXIE: You’re terrible.

TOM: I’m serious. I’m tired of being scolded and mystified by what they’re calling art these days. Like the last time we were in Houston, the Wilson Hamlet, I mean, what was that…I mean, he’s too old to play Hamlet, isn’t he? And then he played all the other parts! And why did he keep repeating the same things, over and over… To be to be to be to be to be…

TRIXIE: It was a tour de force, it was a deconstruction…

TOM: Well, it was boring. It made me want to get to the lobby for a big fat martini…

TRIXIE: But the images…the statements about ritual and relativity…

TOM: Images. If I want images, I’ll go to the movies. They’re more honest, more real.

TRIXIE: Movies aren’t real. They’re linear fabrications. Theatre has the logic of the soul.

TOM: Where did you hear that?

TRIXIE: It’s all in the eye of the observer. Stay here. I want to show you something.

(She exits. He picks up the remote and turns on the television: a ball game. Cheering crowds. TRIXIE enters with something under a napkin. She sets it on the table in front of him. She lifts off the cloth to reveal a winged, pastel washed piece of pottery)

TOM: What is it?

TRIXIE: What do you think it is?

TOM: Did you make this?

TRIXIE: Yes I did, down at Judy’s. She has a huge kiln. But that’s not the point…

TOM: Pretty colors…

TRIXIE: Thank you. But what do you think it is?

TOM: Um… a flower?

TRIXIE: Oh come on now.

TOM: What?

TRIXIE: That’s really what you think it looks like?

TOM: Yeah, an orchid or something, like Georgia O’Keffe…

TRIXIE: Well. Right. I can accept that. I’m actually very flattered…

TOM: But…

TRIXIE: But, it was supposed to be an eagle.

TOM: Of course, of course…I was going to say, eagle…

TRIXIE: It was ‘supposed to represent freedom.

TOM: I’m sorry, I see what you mean now…

TRIXIE: No, no. That’s the whole point, I mean, that’s what I’m saying. Art is what you want it to be…

TOM: But you wanted it to be an eagle…

TRIXIE: That doesn’t matter, that doesn’t matter…

TOM: But you’re disappointed…

TRIXIE: No, no. You have a right to respond how you want to…the true artist pays attention only to the calling of her vision, regardless of how it is received…

TOM: Good try. (gets more champagne) I’d rather have something you can really put something in. Functional. Useful. Something you could sell. I mean, it’s all well and good to follow your vision, or whatever, put people have to want to see the world your way, they have to want what you make.

TRIXIE: You can’t think about marketing when you’re making art…

TOM: Why not? Things done for commercial reasons are more—American…

TRIXIE: How can you say that? You’re the authority on what’s American…?

TOM: Well, my darling, I’m playing the game, and I’m winning…

TRIXIE: So artists are just not playing the game…

TOM: They haven’t taken the time to find out what the game is. You have to contribute something; give up your ego, read a little Dale Carnegie…

TRIXIE: Don’t you think they’re a little busy rehearsing for hours and hours and struggling with poverty so they can create performances that we consume? That’s why we have to support them…we, in particular, have a responsibility…

TOM: Aw, I don’t mind giving a little start up capital. But renewing contributions year after year–it’s like rewarding them for breaking the rules.

TRIXIE: That’s not fair. In this economy, they need subsidies to survive…

TOM: Don’t we all…? And I tell you, sometimes, they just give me the creeps, it’s like you can’t trust them. They act like they’re all interested in your life and what you do, but really, all they want is your money, and then they don’t want you to have any part of how they use it…

TRIXIE: We can’t censor…

TOM: It’s not censorship. I’m completely tolerant. They can go ahead and be profane, tasteless, boring, indecent. It’s not like we’re going to put them in jail for it. I believe in free speech. They can do whatever they want. Just not with my money.

TRIXIE: But, dissonance is vital to culture, it’s what makes us grow…we’re just shells of our true potential unless we challenge our boundaries…

TOM: Honey, art is only valuable because people like you make it so. If I want dissonance, I’ll watch Crossfire or Larry King. What’s that one foundation, always on NPR–art in everyday lives? Doesn’t that just make it–craft? Anybody can do it. So, what’s the point in elevating certain individuals to the status of near god-hood?

TRIXIE: Honey…

TOM: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I work hard. Art is play. It just pisses me off that artists feel so, entitled…isn’t it supposed to be show business? I mean, Broadway doesn’t take hand-outs…Hollywood either…why does everyplace else have to…

TRIXIE: It’s because of the numbers honey. It’s so we can have this knock out view when we come home from a show. So…I guess now would be a bad time to ask for money for Merce…

TOM: What do you think.

TRIXIE: I’m going to put some in especially for this residency, and I thought maybe you could match it…

TOM: I think I’ll stay out of it this time. Besides. I’m thinking about investing in the basketball team.

TRIXIE: What! Like that’s any better…

TOM: It’s just, more sensible…A pro team could bring a lot to this area…

TRIXIE: You’ll pay someone to run up and down the court, but not to dance across a stage…

TOM: Hey, there’s a chance I’ll get my money back. A slim chance…

TRIXIE: But we’ll get so much more back by creating a work of art that could last for years and years, tour around the country, identify a new star dancer…

TOM: Don’t take it personally, Trix. It’s a matter of preference, personal tastes…

TRIXIE: For artists, it’s a matter of survival…

TOM: Come on. Merce isn’t hurting any.

TRIXIE: But the company, our company…We need this residency. It could open up all kinds of doors for us. Tom, I’m trying to be financially responsible, and it’s not really looking very good…

TOM: What do you mean, financially responsible? My god, Trixie, did you sign anything without consulting Pete first…

TRIXIE: Of course not, I just mean, ethically. Please??? (beat) A pledge…

TOM: How much.

TRIXIE: Not much.

TOM: How much?

TRIXIE: 50. Thousand.

TOM: My god! I can’t believe…I’m not that liquid right now. All my cash went to the contractors to finish the house the way you wanted…

TRIXIE: I’ve got money, too, honey. But we still need a match. I’ve tried all my heavy hitters, and I just can’t make them bite… We need the leverage for a foundation grant…plus, there’s a little from the NEA…

TOM: My tax dollars…Let’s not even go there. It’s simple economics. If there isn’t the need, it should stop.

TRIXIE: Stop. You think the company should just stop.

TOM: I said, if it can’t EARN it’s income…

TRIXIE: And you, sponsoring some sport team, or investing, it that EARNED?

TOM: They make a profit!

TRIXIE: I didn’t say profit. I said, what did they do to earn it, baby? Throw a ball through a hoop and advertise? How does that enrich our lives…

TOM: They make me relax! They don’t make me question my life! Life is hard enough with out all the negativity and doubting…

TRIXIE: So, art does impact you…

TOM: I said, they have every right…

TRIXIE: You don’t like how it impacts you, so you want to kill it…

TOM: Don’t go overboard, here…

TRIXIE: What are you so afraid of?

TOM: I’m trying to put some sanity in my life! I don’t want to know what those damn artists think about my choices. If I want to change my life I’ll go to a therapist. If I want humanity, I’ll go to a fucking church. You and I are supposed to be creating things that last…buildings and trusts, homes and babies…

TRIXIE: Nothing lasts forever, Tom…all we really have is right now, in right here. This very moment. This is all we really have. Things are always changing. Why can’t you?

TOM: I’m not listening anymore. Here. Have the last strawberry. I’m going up to bed. (starts for stairs. Beat)

TRIXIE: For the last time. Please. Help me out with Merce.

TOM: You know, I’ve waited a long time for a break like this. Thought we could celebrate, you know, for once, together…

TRIXIE: We still can. (beat: offstage) All right. You can come out now…

(A man, very tall, very thin, enters. He might actually be MERCE. He wears a black turtleneck and dance pants. His hair is curly and tight. He moves very gracefully, puts his arm into hers)

TRIXIE: I’m sorry to keep you waiting back there. He’s just not being reasonable.

MERCE: Did you tell him that we’re a 501 (c) 3 tax-exempt charitable and educational corporation?

TRIXIE: That’s right, Tom, it is tax-deductible!

MERCE: Actually, you’d have to consult your tax specialist for full eligibility.

TOM: Who are you? A professional fund raiser? Do you have a license for that?

TRIXIE: Come on, then, let’s go back to the hotel… Shall we?

(Brings MERCE with her to get her purse)

TOM: Trixie, please–you’re not even dressed!

MERCE: What’s up with him?

TRIXIE: (as they exit, To MERCE)
Don’t worry, darling. There are still a few stones to turn over. We’ll try again in the morning. And, thanks so much for the private lesson…

MERCE: It was my pleasure. One does not have to study in order to dance. It is given to all of us—but not for free.

TRIXIE: Goodbye, Tom. Don’t wait up.

TOM: Hold on just a minute! What are you doing? Where are you going? Who are you?

(They exit. A beat.)

TOM: (Cont.) Fucking MERCE?!?

(Quick blackout. End)

a two-act historical fantasy

Developed in conjunction with the New Harmony Project and with the assistance of the City of Austin Arts Commission. First produced at Bloomington Playwrights Project.

CHARACTERS

MAYS (MADALYN MURRAY O’HAIR): Born in 1919 and raised on the East Coast, O’Hair garnered national attention for her 1963 Supreme Court case which banned prayer in schools. She later founded a group called the American Atheists to promote non-belief and separation of Church and State, headquartered in Austin, Texas. She disappeared suspiciously in 1995, along with her son and granddaughter. Their bodies were found in West Texas and positively identified in 2002.

TERESE (MOTHER TERESA): Born in 1910 in Albania, she became a nun in her teens through an Irish order, and was eventually named headmistress of a school in Calcutta. In 1946, on a train to Darjeeling, she had her second calling — to serve the poor. In 1950, she won Rome’s approval for the establishment of the Missionaries of Charity, a separate and independent order. In an unprecedented move, the order became papal, meaning that they answered only and directly to the Pope. She won the Nobel Peace prize in 1979, and passed away of heart disease in 1997.

TIME & PLACE

Act One: India, 1946

Act Two: Various, 1995 and beyond

PRODUCTION NOTES

The setting should be minimal but multi-leveled and allow for quick scene transitions using sound and light as primary elements. The actresses themselves should accomplish these transitions, going off and on stage as necessary. They can break their characters during “brown-outs” to help with the scene change, but it’s much preferred if no other physical person breaks the playing space. Sound, properties and costumes should be as detailed and realistic as possible under these constraints, while all furniture can be suggested with a unit block set: an overturned box for a boat, a pillow makes the box a bed, smaller boxes make the seating for transportation. A screen or series of screens would enhance the setting with projected visual images, both static and moving: but these should be subtle, not overpowering.

Winner of the Austin Critics Table Award, the Live Oak Award for New Play Development, and the Richard and Betty Burdick National Playwright’s Festival. First produced by Capitol City Playhouse, Directed by Shannon Mayers, Featuring Missy Thomas, Aimee McCormick, Kathy Catmull, and P. Seth Bauer.

CHARACTERS

EMILY JANE BRONTË– Poet, at age 21, and soon-to-be author of a single novel, Wuthering Heights. Tall. Brooding. Insecure.

CHARLOTTE BRONTË– The oldest sister, author of Jane Eyre. Most popular of the three sisters. Practical. Plain. Responsible.

ANNE BRONTË– The youngest sister. Religious, but also quite passionate, and somewhat vain.

WILLIAM WEIGHTMAN– A young curate between 25-35. Sometimes described with red hair.

SETTINGS

The courtyard/graveyard of Haworth Parsonage, The Brontë’s living room, a lecture hall, and the ever-present Yorkshire moors.

TIME

1839-1842, collapsed. A very specific incident at an early point in their development. The scenes are continuous in two acts.

PRODUCTION NOTES

The setting dissolved quickly from place to place with simple lighting, exits and entrances, like a piece of chamber music. In fact, the liberal use of music is encouraged. Type, either classical or contemporary, should be determined in relation to the total production design, which may be selected realism or simply abstract. Costuming best be iconic: the women keep the same period dresses throughout: Weightman might have a fancy vest and a darker one. Anne might sport a parasol, Charlotte and Emily aprons and shawls that they take on and off. The pace should be lively and precise. The dialect need not be severe nor Irish in any respect, just a good solid standard British, easy on the audience’s ear.