       |
|
VAUD RATS A Ukulele Operetta Short
Version by K. Brian Neel © July 2006 ACT I SETTING: an abandoned warehouse, circa early 20th Century. Raw wooden
crates are stacked high in various states of decay against a brick-and-wood
painted canvass backdrop. Other various items are strewn about. Stage left, an
industrial-type door. Outside the door, we hear a tap-tap-tap of running feet. The shoes halt
and retrace their steps, ending just behind the door. A knock. A rattling.
Silence. Again, a rattle, this time more heavily. Suddenly, it swings open as
if split at the seam. CECIL B. DEUKULELE stands framed in the archway. He looks like he's
been through the ringer. He wears a once-nice grey, pin-stripe morning suit
with a bowler cap. One of his hand's holds a small beat-up suitcase; in the
other, a uke-case. He peers into the room. Swallowing
his breath, he crosses the threshold and searches for signs of habitation. None
to be seen, he kicks the door shut and steps on stage. Our hero sets down his
baggage center, reaches up to pull the cord of a hanging light and plops down
wearily upon on the suitcase. He looks around, a little relieved, a little
disgusted, very weary. He uncorks the uke and begins strumming a sad
set of chords... 'HAS BEEN' OVERTURE Something in the audience catches his eye. He moves closer to
investigate. Suddenly, he jumps back in fright. CECIL: Double hockey sticks!
He climbs atop the suitcase, wavering a bit. CECIL: Rats. A major infestation. Or minor, depending on the audience size. Shock evolves into wry laughter. He arms himself with the uke and begins, singing to the rats: TRAVEL SONG This
is a song about traveling. A
song about train whistles and plane engines, Truck
horns and squawkin' bus drivers. A
song about big city neon nights, Cold
pavement, strange faces, Dark
alley entrances to Chinese restaurant cocktail clubs. A
song about greasy roadside diners, Orange
Naugahyde, Bottomless
cups of black coffee, Bottom-full
3am waitresses. A
song about grassy field praries, A
song about snowy mountain retreats, A
song about Bavarian anachronistic towns. A
song about nowhere Where
lost is a way of life (Vocalizing Chorus. Yodeling Chorus.) That was a song about
traveling A
traveler navigates to the stars Like
dice in a game of craps Arriving
and leaving, leaving and arriving, Until
the leaving becomes the arriving And
the arriving becomes exploratory surgery. To
a traveler, every stranger is a best friend, And
a friend is just someone To
say farewell to in the morning. To a
traveler, familiar is a shackle, And
home is a death sentence. The final G chord lingers... and ends. CECIL: Very Much. Very Much.
Most generous audience I've had in weeks. Only audience I've had in weeks. Cecil hesitantly lowers himself to the floor and takes in the place. He
finds, among other crap, a rolling cart, a coat rack, and a sheet. Hope you don't mind some company this evening. Just a
one-night-stand, mind you, no extended run. Don't worry, I won't get too
comfortable. Not that this isn't a charming place you have here. A little dusty.
A little dingy. A little hot. But that is a beautiful wall you have over there.
You know what that wall reminds me of? This one over here. Cecil puts the suitcase on the rolling cart and opens it. He undresses,
putting the clothes in the case. Beneath it all, he sports an old-timey
one-piece white cotton undergarment. I feel right comfortable here, amongst my fellow rats.
That's right, I'm a rat myself, or was, once upon a time: card carrying member
of the "White Rats of America" performer's union. Mind you, I joined
after the original eight were blacklisted. I see some white rats here tonight. (halts, shocked.) Just keep gnawing on
whatever it is you're gnawing. Liver and let liver, that's my motto. Don't mind me, I'm not exactly real, anyway. Performers
aren't real, no. They're entertainments, little candies for you to savor and
swallow. So just sit back and let me guide you through a tour of an authentic
variety performer... MUSEUM OF ME CECIL goes into a shuffle and snap dance with a cappella patter: Welcome to the museum of me, Witness the life-size taxidermied-- glued, stuffed, sewn,
fluffed varnished, polished, waxed,
buffed-- Performer of the Vaude-du-ville. He ends on one knee in the classic "ta-da!". CECIL: Where to begin? Every
life has a beginning. And so does this one... He picks up the instrument and steps inside the suitcase on the rolling
cart, like a preacher in a pulpit. Throughout the song, he takes various poses
-- birthing, curled like a sleeping babe, twirling around, etc. -- all inside
the suitcase, at times coasting around the stage on the rollers. DAYLIGHT MOON Chesapeake Henesy, a Protestant Minister, Preached one Sunday the
judgment Revelations. Pregnant wife Gloria, ill
with listeria, Collapsed on the alter 20
days premature. Be quiet little boy, cold arms keep you warm hide like a daylight moon a daylight
moon Pa named him Benjamin, but
never felt comfortable raising this odd, estranged,
separate being. One dark night Benjamin
crawled from his bassinet, That day on he made him
sleep in a cabinet. Invisible little boy, Bright hiding little boy, Shy as a daylight moon a daylight moon Instrumental. Pa took to preaching to drunks
and the homeless. Oft he brought his son to
pass pious propaganda, In the bustling hubbub,
Benjamin was swallowed up. Lost and confused he
wandered into a Burlesque. Wake up shy little boy, A world outside for you own... Rise with the midnight moon
the midnight moon Instrumental Finale. CECIL: It was years later I
officially ran away from home and was officially disowned by the family. Mine
is the same old story: scruffy kid dazzled by the glamorous world of variety.
Strange thing is, even when you find out how grueling, vicious, and back
stabbing Vaude is, you just want more. (He picks up a wire hanger and puts his coat on it, hangs it on the
coat tree and tops it with his hat.) I began working running crew
at the Liberty theater on the Moss and Proctor circuit--raising and lowering
curtains mostly. Never even set foot on stage, except to sweep and mop. But I
loved watching the acts from the wings. That's where I saw for the first time... SOPHIE: ...the incomparable
Sophie Faye... (The sound of applause, she bows and exits off left where she begins
singing flirtatiously to the coat-rack CECIL:) DEMURE SOUBRETTE WALTZ SOPHIE: I caught ya
watching me perform my act. Come to me dressing room,
let's have a chat. Do you mind if I change into
me Gatsby dress? It's very comfortable. (I
don't like underwear.) You have a presence, you're
meant for the stage. I sense a talent, youthful
and of vast array. Partner with me, I'll show
you the ropes. Vaude is a game--lots of soirees and
jokes. (She twirls upstage and becomes an old man leaning against the wall
with his back to the audience. He talks over his shoulder, gesturing with a
cigar in a shaky hand. It's like he's been smoking it for two centuries.) CHARLES: Welcome to the business
of show Benjamin Henesy. 'Benjamin,' that's no good.
Let's see... Ben? Benny? Benny? Benny. Benny Joe. Benny Jack. Benny... Where
were you born? Doesn't matter. I was born in Carson City. Benny Carson.
Benny... Phoenix. Benny Nevada. Benny Nevada, that's good. Friendly with a nod
to the Donner Party. This is a gift I am giving you. Contract is eight dollars
a week plus transportation. We arrange room and board--sometimes a nice hotel,
sometimes a boarding house, sometimes whatever hole. You pay. That’Äôs it, tomorrow
we travel to Oklahoma City. After that to Muskogee to Dallas to Huston, Galviston, New Orleans, Mobile, Alabama... finish the Kemp
Circuit. Then head west for 20 weeks on the Pantages,
then 25 weeks of Lowes, which brings us back to West Coast for Keith and
Orpheum, 30 weeks... Oh, we buy lunches. On Mondays. BENNY: I was puzzle-pieced
into her scene in the role of a walking tuxedo. (Nice society music plays under. SOPHIE performs AFTER THE SHOWER part
1, clutching the uke with outstretched arm as if it
were BENNY.) SOPHIE: Say–I know a
joke on you. I saw you fall in the lake yesterday while you were fishing. It
was so amusing. I don't know when I've enjoyed such a hearty joke. How did you
come to fall in? Well, I guess you didn't
come to fall in, did you? You came to fish. Have you caught any fish since you
came? A dog fish? With a litter of puppies. You must make frankfurter sausages
out of the little ones, and use the big one to guard the camp. That's a
watch-dog fish. Well, certainly you've heard of sea-dogs, so I suppose you
heard the cat-fish having a concert last night. They were all tom-cats. You've
heard of tom-cods, haven't you? Well, why not tom-cats then? Say, you must be
sure to come over to our camp and see the collection in our private aquarium.
We have two compartments, and keep the little daughter fish on one side... yes,
and the son-fish on the other. (Canned applause rises from the imaginary crowd. They bow and exit.) SOPHIE: Audience loves me... hear
that applause. Once at the Palace I had
twenty curtain calls! I'll teach you to dance and
increase your pay. Geniuses taught me, but now
they're all dead. (The mood drops, tempo slows.) I'm just a kid, oh, this
world is so crazy. It's overwhelming, please
come here, hold me. (Canned uke waltz music plays and they
(SOPHIE and uke-BENNY) waltz around the stage, slowly
at first, then building faster to a swirling merry-go-round. It ends suddenly
with the back of cigar-man.) CHARLES: She is old, Benny.
Believe me. She performed in medicine shows--horse and buggy--honest to
goodness. Parents came over on the boat from Ireland, had her singing in their
family act when she was three--under-aged. The Gerry Society would have her
father arrested after every matinee; but they’Äôd bail him out by supper, so she
could go on for the evening show. She's never not been on the road. There are
roads named after her. Because she is a star. A sweet lovely little angel. (Same society music rises. SOPHIE performs AFTER THE SHOWER part 2,
this time dancing a bit with uke-BENNY:) SOPHIE: Say–I know a
joke on you. I saw you fall in the lake yesterday while you were fishing. It
was so amusing. I don't know when I've enjoyed such a hearty joke. How did you
come to fall in? Well, I guess you didn't
come to fall in, did you? You came to fish. Have you caught any fish since you
came? A dog fish? With a litter of puppies. You must make frankfurter sausages
out of the little ones, and use the big one to guard the camp. That's a
watch-dog fish. Well, certainly you've heard of sea-dogs, so I suppose you
heard the cat-fish having a concert last night. They were all tom-cats. You've
heard of tom-cods, haven't you? Well, why not tom-cats then? Say, you must be
sure to come over to our camp and see the collection in our private aquarium.
We have two compartments, and keep the little daughter fish on one side... BENNY: (Taking the hat from the uke, coming to
life.) and the son-fish on the other. (Canned applause rises from the imaginary crowd. BENNY bows, they
exit.) SOPHIE: (Upset, singing curtly:) Benny you mustn't interrupt
my scene. You're not paid to talk,
just to look pretty. Do not cavort with those
tawdry chorus girls! Don't stay out late. And no
more liquor! (She mellows and gets dreamy again.) From now on you'll sleep in
me suite We will play hide and seek
under the bed sheets. It'll be like we are sister
and brother. We will smoke opium and play
’ÄòGangster’Äô. (She's ended on her knees, dazed, lost in her imaginary world. The same
society music plays, she jerks out of the dream and gets to her places for
AFTER THE SHOWER part 3. This time, the uke switches
between being uke-BENNY and uke-SOPHIE.) SOPHIE: Say–I know a
joke on you. I saw you fall in the lake yesterday. BENNY: While I was fishing? SOPHIE: Yes; it was so
amusing. I don't know when I've enjoyed such a hearty joke. How did you come to
fall in? BENNY: I didn't come to fall in. I came to fish. SOPHIE: Have you caught any
fish since you came? BENNY: Only a dog-fish, with
a litter of puppies. SOPHIE: (With wide-open
eyes.) How interesting! BENNY: We made frankfurter
sausages out of the little ones, and we are using the big one to guard the
camp. SOPHIE: To guard the camp? BENNY: Yes–it's a
watch-dog fish. SOPHIE: Well, I've heard of sea-dogs– BENNY: Oh, yes–quite
common. I suppose, of course, you heard the cat-fish having a concert last
night. SOPHIE: No–surely you
are joking. BENNY: No, indeed–they
were all tom-cats. SOPHIE: Who ever heard of
such a thing? BENNY: Well, you've heard of
tom-cods, haven't you? SOPHIE: Yes, of
course– BENNY: Well, why not
tom-cats then? Say, you must be sure to come over to our camp and see the
collection in our private aquarium. We have two compartments, and keep the
little daughter fish on one side, and– SOPHIE: The daughter fish! BENNY: Yes, and the son-fish
on the other. (THE GIRL springs to her feet, angrily.) SOPHIE: You are simply
guying me. I shan't listen to you another moment. BENNY: (Also jumping to his
feet and grasping her by the arm.) Oh, please don't get mad. We were getting
along so nicely, too. SOPHIE: (Sneeringly.)
"WE" were getting along so nicely. You mean YOU were. I wasn't. BENNY: Yes, you were doing
FINE. You were listening to me, and I can get along all right with anybody that
will listen to me. (Canned applause rises again, fading as BENNY turns around, becoming
cigar-man.) CHARLES: Sophie Fay is the
greatest performer who ever lived. She is
Vaudeville. I've seen many a young buck play opposite her. You're just another
one, Benjamin. And You're all washed up--services no longer required. (SOPHIE's husband flicks the cigar at BENNY
and walks up stage and away, becoming CECIL walking back to center.) CECIL: Last I heard, Sophie
and her husband settled down in the Catskills; where she still sang, alone with
piano, to a very welcoming audience of retired gentry. (CECIL puts his pants on and puts the suitcase upright on the rolling
cart.) As for me... i'd been fooling with an Eastern European knockabout olio
act call the Tumbling Tumbo Brothers. They said I had
a penchant for the alley-oop and the applesauce. So I
suitcased with them for a few years (He dons a cowboy hat pulled from the suitcase.) CECIL: After that I
partnered with Betty Lee. Betty Lee was an expert roper and bull-whipper. At the capper of our scene she’Äôd crack a cigarette
out of my mouth, crack the hat off my head, and crack, crack, crack... the newspaper
in my hands into confetti; then I’Äôd run out into the audience and she’Äôd rope me
from back of the house! That was a good act. (He puts on a ragged wicker cowboy had on his head and straddles the
case.) COWBOY UKULELE (He mounts suitcase on wheels and rides it around the stage like a
horse.) Tuckered and slouched at the
L'ville station, Dreamin' the hours 'til ropin' and wranglin'. In front of me she's leanin' 'gainst a sill, Waitin' fer
a train, Unowned and unplayn. Her luscious curves in
bright silhouette Of the high noon and dry
noon Makes me doze off to slumber
thinkin' Nothin's sadder than an unplayed guitar, No matter how small. (Whistling respite.) My horse be a train on the
lone prairie, I pay no mind to tinny
ukulele Settin' by the caboose window Like every sunset you knowed. Don't 'spect
me to find Yer tone. Sunrise. (Seems like she
always tends to the light.) Se calls me a strummer, So, gentle and sweet, I
uncork her... (He finger picks up and down the fretboard--they're
a match made in heaven.) CECIL: Guess you'd say,
legally, I found Elinore Isbell, here. (Elinore is the uke.) But I prefer to think of it as theft. I became
Cecil B. DeUkulele. Took me no time at all to
come up with some solo uke-schtick. I knocked em bowlegged in Shreveport, and that place is a morgue. All
miners and industrial workers. (gets the
idea) My big-wig agent in Gotham says to me: AGENT: (Jimmy Cagney voice) If you can make it in Shreveport, baby, you
could make it anywhere. Mya, mya,
mya. CECIL: I thought he was
screwy in the noggin. Fact is, I tailored my material to everywhere I went. At the RKO in Yonkers, a
talent scout saw me clobber a packed matinee on Monday. Booked me to the Palace
for Friday. The Palace! the pinnacle! the zenith! the tops of Vaudeville--ain't that great. Don't get me wrong, I was dazzled to be
there, even in the three spot. But the pay ain't that
good, and the audience is tough. I know many a big-time performer who refuse to
play the Palace. But Bookers and agents flood
the joint. So from there... THE SHORT BLUES WITH THE LONG NAME I signed on to a brand new midwest circuit called the Schubert. High class big time
Vaudeville houses, treated me like a king, like a
king, like a
king. In forty two weeks the organization went bankrupt. Every ritzy plush gold
velvet stage was dark, it was dark, it was dark. I found myself in Kansas
City, not a penny to my name. Telegram said Keith and
Orpheum had blacklisted my name, the blacklist, blacklist, black... (He strums and drums the uke in rhythm.) ...No more Big Time for me.
No more two-a-days. No comfort. Worst part is... I hadn't saved up a dime. So I did small-time, pro-am
stringing my way across this barren land,
barren land,
barren land, barren... (The strum and drum takes to his feet--he stomps a shuffle left and
right, to finish.) CECIL: I remember the
feeling playing my last show at the magnificent Shubert Theater, 'House Cozy'
they called it; in Kansas City one week, and the next week... lights rising on
yours truly in a tent. In Sioux Falls.
South Dakota. In winter. (He puts on his coat.) We also played in Odd Fellows Halls, community centers, town
squares, state fairs. Let's use the term 'theater' liberally here, shall we. (He rolls a newspaper into a cone, mounts it on the coat tree like a
ole-timey microphone.) Now. A performer is only as
good as his last nine-act bill. And mine was the most bizarre you'd ever catch trodding the oak. A veritable mish-mash of second-rate performers,
some on the rise, most on the fall, and some crashing right before your very
eyes... THE NINE ACT (He sings into the cone:) Opening the show: Poodle
Penumbra, An act the audience Gave little attention. Dogs dressed like humans Playing cards in a bar. Their trainer, a pristine lady, Would whip and kick them while smiling. She fed them steak and gravy after
every show. She never saved any money for the
road. The deuce spot is the worst
spot on the bill. Baseball's Randall Greewall, Pitcher from Brooklyn. He'd lean against the oli, Talking championship rings. He had been a real hero, Now drank himself sick before every show. I used to take him to minor league
now and then. He was a normal joe,
a good friend. Reid & Mert were a comedy act: Rube character And patting rabbit hash They'd enter opposite, Crossover, hokum and slap. Originally in the army Entertaining troops abroadly,
I never saw so much fruit hurled at
the stage. Mopping up was taken from their pay. (A big band swing intro hits the speakers under CECIL's
patter:) THE ART OF FLIRTATION REID: Say, whenever we go
out together, you always got a kick coming. What's the matter with you? MERT: Nothing is the matter
with me. REID: With you always
everything is the matter. MERT: What's the trouble? REID: The trouble is you
don't know nothing. MERT: Yes, I do. REID: You know! If I only
knew one-half of what you don't know, I would know twice as much as the
smartest man in the world. MERT: What you got against me? REID: You ain't a gentlemen. I mean you ain't
got no refinement–like me. Me, I am a lady killer. MERT: One look at you is
enough to kill any lady. REID: Ven
I am with the ladies, I talk to dem vit soft words; I whisper sweet nothings, but you, you
rummy you, you don't know how to make the ladies feel unhappy. MERT: How do you make them unhappy? REID: You got to be
disagreeable to them. MERT: And vat do you do to
be disagreeable to ladies? REID: The only vay to be disagreeable to a lady, you got to flirt vit her. MERT: Flirt. Vat’Äôs dat, flirt? REID: Flirting is a thing
that begins in nothing. You say something, you talk like everything and you mean
nothing, and it liable to end up in anything. A flirtation is a
clan-destination meeting with a lady. MERT: How do you know so
much about flirting? REID: Now you come to it. I
got here a book on the art of flirtation. (He
shows book.) MERT: What is the name of
that book? REID: ’ÄòThe art of flirtation’Äô.
How to make a lady fall in love with you for ten cents. MERT: A lady fell in love
with me once and it cost me Five Hundred Dollars. REID: That's because you
didn't have this book. This book tells you how to make love. This book is full
of the finest kind of love. MERT: For ten cents. REID: Yes, for ten cents. MERT: Oh, it's ten cents love. REID: No, it ain't ten-cent love. It's fine love (opens book). See–here is the destructions. Right on the
first page you learn something. See--how to flirt with a handkerchief. MERT: Who wants to flirt
with a handkerchief? I want to flirt with a woman. REID: Listen to what the
book says. To a flirter all things have got a language. According to this book,
flirters can speak with the eye, with the fan, with the cane, with the
umbrella, with the handkerchief, with anything. This book tells you how to do it. MERT: For ten cents. REID: Shut up. This is the
handkerchief flirtation: when you see a pretty woman coming along who wants to
flirt with you, you put your hands in your pockets. MERT: And hold on to your money. REID: No, you take out your
handkerchief and you shake it three times like this (biz). Do you know what that means? MERT: (Biz. of shaking head.) REID: That means you want
her to give you– MERT: Ten cents. REID: No. Dat means you want her to give you a smile. Den you hold
your handkerchief by the corner like dis (biz). MERT: Vat does that mean? REID: Meet me on the corner. MERT: Och,
(takes handkerchief). Den if you hold
it dis way, dat means (biz). "Are you on the square?" REID: You are learning
already. Soon you will soon be a flirter. Now I vill
show you how you flirt according to the book. You are a man flirter, and I am a
beautiful female. MERT: You are what? REID: A female. A female. MERT: Vat's dat, a female? REID: A female. Don't you
know what fee means? Fee, that means money. Male, that means man. Female. That
means "Get money from a man." That's a female. I am a beautiful woman
and just to teach you how to flirt, I am going to take a walk thro' the park and
I will make eyes at you. MERT: If you do, I will
smash my nose in your face. REID: No. No. When I make
eyes at you, you must wave your handkerchief three times. Den you reproach me vit all the disrespect in the world and den you take off
your hat and you say something. Vat do you say? MERT: Ten cents REID: No. No. You say
something pleasant. You speak of the weather, for instance. You say
"Good-evening, Madam, nice day." MERT: Suppose it ain't a nice day? REID: No matter what kind of
a day it is, you speak about it. Now I'm the lady and I am coming. Get ready. (Reid does burlesque walk around Mert. . . . Reid stops and drops handkerchief.) MERT: Say–you dropped something. REID: I know it. I know it.
Flirt. Flirt. (Mert biz. of pulling out red handkerchief.) MERT: I’Äôm flirting! I’Äôm flirting! REID: What are you trying to
do, flag a train? Why don't you pick up my handkerchief? MERT: I don't need any, I
got one. REID: (Picks up handkerchief and turns.) Oh, you rummy you. Why don't you
reproach me and say something about the weather? MERT: All right, you do it again. REID: Now don't be bashful!
Don't be bashful! Here I come (biz of
walk). MERT: (pose with hat.) Good evening. Are you a flirter? REID: Oh you fool (gives comedian a push). MERT: Oh, what a mean lady dat is. REID: You musn't ask her if she's a flirter. You must say something.
De way it says in the book. You must speak of something. If you can't speak of
anything else, speak of the weather. MERT: All right, I'll do it
again this time. REID: This is the last time
I'll be a lady for you. Here I come. (biz) MERT: Good evening, Mrs.
Lady. Sloppy weather we're having. REID: Sloppy weather! It's
no use; I can't teach you, you got to learn it from the book. Come here.
"After you made the acquaintanceship of de lady, you should call at her
house in the evening. You go in the parlor, you sit on the sofa, side by side,
you take her hand, den you say: "Whose goo-goo luvin'
baby is oosum?" MERT: Does it say that in
the book? REID: Sure. MERT: Let me see it. (He tears out page, hands the book back to Reid.)
Den vat do you do? REID: You put her vaist around your arms. Den you squeeze it– MERT: And den? REID: She'll press her head
upon your manly shoulder– MERT: And den– REID: She looks up into your
eyes– MERT: And den? REID: You put the other arm
around her and hold her tight– MERT: And den? REID: She sighs– MERT: And den? REID: You sigh– MERT: And den? REID: Dat's
the end of the book. MERT: Is dat
all? REID: Sure. What do you want
for ten cents? (The swing music reprises, taking 'them' off. Cecil takes the uke and continues the riffs:) THE NINE ACT (Reprise) CECIL: It's a whirl-wind, ain't it? Imagine how real audiences felt. For the next
act, imagine... dancing girls. There they are, behind me. See em? Kicking their gams high for
your delight... (stops
playing, gets serious.) CECIL: Wait a minute, that's
Burlesque. This is clean Vaude, there were no dancing
girls in this nine-act. I read the Blue-laws back stage: "No Damns, No
skin, No Deities." Here we go... (plays:) After intermission came Mr.
Sing, An Asian man with pipes As smooth as baby skin. Dressed in tails to the nines, Big teeth sparkling, He looked like a fortune cookie Served after an Irish dinner. He spoke and sang perfect English, But the audience preferred an
incomprehensible Trixie Fraganza,
singer of renown, Audience repore Like none I've ever found. Her voice was bass, her dress twenty-eight (three hundred pounds) Why she was slumming here I never actually became aware. She always demanded first dressing
room, Even though she wasn't headlining
the show. Menotti Brothers - twirling torpedos – Acrobatic dumb act, They closed the show, Playing to the haircuts, Alley-ooh-pah lingo. To be forthwith and honest here, I never actually caught their schtick. By this time I'd exit back stage
door To the bar... hotel... train
depot... (Riffs a bit, then cuts off awkwardly.) CECIL: Now, I realize that
was unsupportive of me, a fellow vaudevillian, disrespectfully evacuating the
theater, disrespectfully, not staying for their act even once on the entire 48
week tour. In my defense, I was working the crowd just moments before,
headlining the show, ladies and gentlemen! Top of the bill, ladies and
gentlemen! Which given this small-small-small-time bunch, doesn't mean mud. Now, the astute of you may
have noticed that, even including my spot, that last song did not represent a
full nine-act bill. More like... (counting
business) ...seven. Of the two remaining acts:
one was my favorite; and one was impetus of my demise. First, my favorite: Madam
Flora, the Psychic Medium... MADAME FLORA (Flora sits in her dressing room, eyes bulging and passionate,
recalling her past...) Greasepaint and rouge, Eyelashes and lipstick, Another dressing room Up the hall, down the
stairs, To the stage, To my crystal ball, My son on the ropes... Curtain Rise! Channeling a proctor At the Hippodrome. Lean into the glass... "I see a man in robes, Unhappy, hurting, someone's done him
wrong." Build up, Build up, Moan... To black! Smoke fills the stage My son takes his cue floats high above I chant I chant Audience gasp! Mirrors and crystal balls And performers Lie. Audience reflect Desire and Awe. A storm rises all around This I did not plan Then I feel a hand On my neck, squeezing, Choking... I can't breathe. Stop the show, Stop the show. Stop the show! Mirrors and crystal balls And performers Lie. Audience reflect Desire and Awe. Tremble in the night, Afraid of impossibles. I sleep, clutching knife My son waking me, Startled, I scream out Stabbing with the knife Oh no oh no oh no I never believed In my own power. An unknown hand Tricked me. Tricked me.
Tricked me. (She wails like a tormented gipsy, emotion bringing her to her knees
right on top of the center footlight, shining harsh in her wet face. The
wailing subsides to jaded numb...) Mirrors and crystal balls And performers Convey. Audience witness Alone in the Dark. (INTERMISSION) ACT II SETTING: same as Act I. Cecil sits in the kid chair behind the
suitcase, center stage, plucking away. He tells the song simply. VULCˆÇNO THE PUGILIST Born in Lower East Side New
York A sickly kid his mother
named Raymond O'Rourke By the age of nine barely
made it out of bed By twenty three could lift
pound 500 Fighting his way across the
nation Bare-knuckle fistacuff sensation Changed his name to Vulcano the Great wore a mustache with curled
edges By the age of thirty-five He is losing all his fights Gets a booker in Vaudeville And tours the midwest region The orchestra would play
Schubert Vulcano lifted round buckshot
barbells And fifty fat audience
volunteers In between flex dynamic
tension His reputation and bill
placement Rose, but so did his temperment In Boston arrested killing a
stagehand For loading bricks inside
his pockets Keith and Albee staged the defense Press seduced by muscle and tan Vulcˆ¢no lifted the jury box The judge declared mistrial Years on tour, his act was
all wet To spice it up he hired a
singing midget For comic relief and
contortion He bandied her around like
gin Offstage he abused her for fun But Ringling Brothers wasn't hiring on He broke her arm in Baltimore And demanded that she still perform When she complained to the union He demoted her to prop management Then to stage a publicity stunt Vulcano forced her to marry him HEY THERE LITTLE GIRL (This song follows the previous immediately. Our hero raises his stockinged feet atop. They become Cecil and Opal
feet-puppets, enacting the song.) First time I saw her
standing in the wings, Watching me perform
"Avenue Lane." She leaned longingly into
the lights. After encore I bowed to her
graciously, She glowered, charging me:
"voluptuary" She even kicked my shin as
she pushed past me. Still, I saw her every day, in that same spot, (high octave) She missed the stage, missed the audience, She was intriguing, like none I'd ever seen One dark night returning for
my trunk, After a three-show day
'break a jump' I heard a sound on stage,
like an accordion. (Foot-puppet OPAL re-appears with a little accordion strapped around
her.) Standing alone in the ghost
light singing sweet ole 'Harvest Moon,'
her voice like rain, Echoing solemnly above the
empty seats. Her song rose to a bittersweet crescendo, Her feet shim-shammed the Jittering Jitterbug, Crossin' sideways, shufflin' off to Buffalo. (High octave. OPAL puppet shuffles into CECIL puppet and screams.) CECIL PUPPET: Sorry to startle you. OPAL PUPPET: Oh my goodness. CECIL PUPPET: That was, eh,
very nice. OPAL PUPPET: How dare you! CECIL PUPPET: Excuse me? OPAL PUPPET: Just what do you think
you doing? CECIL PUPPET: Eh...
watching. OPAL PUPPET: Peeping Tom. CECIL PUPPET: Excuse me? OPAL PUPPET: I know about you. CECIL PUPPET: Well, of
course... OPAL PUPPET: Pervert. CECIL PUPPET: What!? (She goes to walk around him, he tries to counter, but ends up in her
way every time.) OPAL PUPPET: Would you please move
out of my way? CECIL PUPPET: Why don't you
go around? OPAL PUPPET: How dare you. CECIL PUPPET:Here
we go again. (Opal-puppet throttles him over the head with the toy accordion. Cecil-puppet
collapses.) My skull throbbed when I
regained consciousness, Cradled in her lap, my
cheeks in her hands, She whispered sweetly... I
could feel her breathe. I asked her name, and she
replied, "Opal" I said, "You're a very
lovely dwarf." "Midget is
correct," she said, and then she dropped my
head. Weeks passed, she wouldn't even look at me. I stole moments, staring ungracefully. Then I ran into an opera friend in Saskatoon. He taught me how to win Opal's approval... (Patter:) CECIL: This friend of mine
was a big time opera singer, all legit on Broadway, but the money in Vaude was too good to pass up. Between Balto
and Chi-town is where we hitched up, riding the same lines. He always used to
call me Don Juan, for obvious reasons. So, his plan was to teach me a dueto from Don Giovanni to sing on midget guitar to.
Learning and rehearsing was easy enough, but getting Opal to listen was another
bag of wax. Finally, at the Mishler Theater in
Pennsylvania, I trapped her backstage... LA CI DAREM LA MANO (from
Don Giovanni) (Cecil, as Giovanni, chases 'Zerlina' around
the ladder, seducing her. She fights him off.) GIOVANNI: La ci darem la mano, La
mi dirai di si! Vedi, non e lontano Partiam, ben mio,
da qui! ZERLINA: Vorrei, e
non vorrei; Mi
trema un poco il cor: Felice, e ver sarei, Ma
puo burlarmi ancor. Ma
puo burlarmi ancor. (She tries to escape up the ladder, but he follows brashly.) GIOVANNI: Vieni nio bel
diletto! ZERLINA: Mi fa pieta Masetto. GIOVANNI: Io changiero tua sorte. ZERLINA: Presto, non son piu forte, non son piu forte, non son piu forte, GIOVANNI: Vieni! vieni! La
ci darem la mano, ZERLINA: Vorrei
e non vorrei; GIOVANNI: La mi dirai di si! ZERLINA: Mi trema
un poco il cor. GIOVANNI: ...tiam, ben mio,
da qui! ZERLINA: Ma puo burlarmi an... GIOVANNI: Vieni nio bel... ZERLINA: Mi... GIOVANNI: ...sorte... ZERLINA: ...non son piu forte, non son piu forte, non son piu forte, GIOVANNI: Andiam! Andiam! (They reach the top of the ladder, it's too much for her, she finally
gives in to his manliness.) GIOVANNI: Andiam! (CECIL sits atop the ladder.) CECIL: We became close as
crossed fingers, tight as two coats of paint, two birds in separate cages
thanks to her her bulky deadweight 3-spot of a false
husband. Opal and I went everywhere together. Innocent enough, at first... STORM CHASER (Through this song, Cecil strolls the stage like a roving troubadour,
entering the audience at times.) A
foreign hallway at dawn, I’Äôm
walking you home, innocent
and peaceful, we
halt to say goodbye... then... Longing
suffuses me, flooding
my reasoning. I’Äôm
submerged suddenly within
your eyes. a
high pressure system, intense
precipitation, no
point surviving, just
let me drown. I’Äôm
stuck, I’Äôm stuck, I’Ķ I’Ķ I’Äôm stuck I’Äôm
stuck, I’Äôm stuck, I’Ķ I’Ķ I’Äôm stuck I’Äôm
stuck, I’Äôm stuck I
collapse into your intoxicating
tornado, inhale
mercilessly, lifted
without delicacy, winds
surrounding me, holding
and twisting, bathing
— a tumbleweed sweetly
drubbed. I’Äôm
stuck, I’Äôm stuck, I’Ķ I’Ķ I’Äôm stuck I’Äôm
stuck, I’Äôm stuck, I’Ķ I’Ķ I’Äôm stuck I’Äôm
stuck, I’Äôm stuck, I’Ķ I’Ķ I’Äôm chasing storms Please don’Äôt exhale, I want this to
stay a storm without an end. Don’Äôt keep me wandering aimlessly, outside looking in. Rip me apart again. (la, la chorus.) I’Äôm
stuck, I’Äôm stuck, I’Ķ I’Ķ I’Äôm stuck I’Äôm
stuck, I’Äôm stuck, I’Ķ I’Ķ I’Äôm stuck I’Äôm
stuck, I’Äôm stuck, I’Ķ I’Ķ HEY THERE LITTLE GIRL
(Australia) (Our hero sits behind the open suitcase, reprising the feet-puppets...) A week later on the sleeper
train, I found her beaten, crying
in the hallway. I took her to my berth and
held her gently. (The feet close the case, as the Opal-footpuppet
is brought onto Cecil’Äôs lap. He sings directly to the foot as if it were OPAL.) "He's a violent, crazy,
crazy man. Leave him, come with me,
I've got a plan." She thought and dreamed, but
said, "I can't." I said: "This is bad, and getting
worse, Opal I'm not afraid of Vulcˆ°no. That's the point. We need to get away. Vaude is dying. Look at Cincy
and Pitts, it's only a matter of time. I think we should
go to
Australia. Look at Rudy Horn and May Tilly They're doing well in
Australia We'll slip off the train in
Reading, catch the Eastern back. We're gonna be fine, Opal. Go to
sleep." (He breaks the foot puppet convention, singing out, coming down off the
kid-chair and resting down on the closed suitcase.) Opal, my little girl, oh, so sweet, (high octave) I miss your hands, miss them on my cheek, Your black-hair, moon face, your lips cerise, Ignite in me like a remedy. BEATING JUST OUTSIDE OF READING (Cecil lowers his head as the rhythm of the train begins to vibrate...) Opal and I shock awake Is the train derailing? Opal suddenly jerked away. What is happening? (He spastically jerks at each word...) bang, bash, batter, beat, blast, blitz, buffet, box. (...and ends up laying contorted across the suitcase.) The door is gone Is that the hallway? Opal hunched in the corner Did she scream? (More spastically jerking...) clap, clobber, clout, club, flail, flog, cuff, crack. (... he ends up splayed across the suitcase.) My face is raw. How did the floor get here? Opal is gone. Do I keep blacking out? (More spastically jerking...) hammer, hook, jab, kick, knock, nail, pelt, pound. (... to end up leaning against the suitcase.) I can't move. Something dripping down my
face. Shattered glass everywhere. Is that Volcˆ¢no's
shoe? (More spastically jerking all over the stage, kicking the suitcase and
chair into the extremities.) rap, slap, sock, smack, thrash, wallop, whack, pop, Bang, bash, batter, beat, blast, blitz, buffet, box, clap, clobber, clout, club, flail, flog, cuff, crack, hammer, hook, jab, kick, knock, nail, pelt, pound! (He stands erect center stage, still.) I wake up in a room. Is this a hotel? I'm wrapped in towels. I must get to my tour. Is there a doctor in this
town? What town is this anyway? Where is Opal? How long have I been here? GETTING BACK
THE PICTURES (He lowers the uke. He pulls out a letter from
his pants pocket, opens it, reads:) From: Gus Sun
Booking Exchange Springfield, Ohio H. M. Addison, Managing Director To: Mr. Cecil B. DeUkulele Dear Mr. Ukulele, Mrs. Opal Bayes is no longer
touring to Gus Sun theaters. We took the liberty of forwarding your letters by way
of the Langtry Fair Booking exchange in Lawrence, Kansas, as her husband, Vulcˆ°no Bayes, is currently
touring under contract to county fairs in the midwest.
However, their records do not list an Opal Bayes
currently under employ, nor was a forwarding address made available. Please
find your letters here returned, undeliverable. Furthermore, enclosed is a bill for one-half the sum
total damage cost incurred to Northern Pacific Railway on April 23 of this year.
Remit payment immediately. Please do not attempt to contact this agency for
further bookings or recommendation. We sincerely hope you are recovering. Best wishes for
success in all future endeavors. Signed, M. E. Comerford MUSEUM OF ME part deux (CECIL reprises the shuffle slap dance with a cappella patter:) Welcome to the museum of me,
Under microscope he looks so
sparkly-- Can you see a soul behind these glazey,
glassy, glossy eyes? HEY THERE LITTLE GIRL (Dead
Tonight) (He drops the persona, gets his shoes, walks US, uprights the chair,
sits with his back to the audience. Pause. He pulls up his foot to shoe it,
recognizes Opal-puppet. He becomes angry, putting the shoe over her.) But oh, that
she had never, never been. Of her many
faces I'd never seen! Still they
come and go before me. (Shoes on, he goes to pick up the uke,
crosses DSR to put it in the case, halts, plays, strolls to center.) And oh, my love, as I sing for
you tonight, (high octave) I have no longer any hope To heal the suffering, or make
requite, I own that some of me is dead
tonight. 'HAS-BEEN'
FINALE (As if it's all done? Over? Hopeless?) I've
been tossed about like a shadow buffeted
by flames, A
shadow that's gone astray and
is lost. My
name is mud. My act
forgot, A
washed-up bust.
I don't know who I am,
A stranger in familiar land, A no-act vaudevillian. I
don't have a home, But
even if I did, I'd
long for the road. (A change of heart is brewing...) So why not begin again Right here at the end—— Invent a new name, Step back onto the stage, Hit the amateur spots, And soon they'll bill me up, And up, and up, and up, up, up, up. And I'll be saving up, up,
up, up, up... For Australia!
Where I'll show them... (He sets the uke on the edge of the stage and
stands unfettered.) ...My
Wow finish. WOW FINISH (Over the sound-system, a wild-fast uke
strums in constant crescendo.) Wow,
wow, wow, wow finish, Wow,
wow, wow, wow finish, Wow,
wow, wow, wow finish, Wow,
wow, wow... Wow
finish! (This repeats several times while our hero dances and sings a
magnificent number, just like the ole greats. It finishes with him circling the
stage in a cross-over tap-step, walking over the kid chair, doing a forward
roll, sliding on his knees down center to the uke. He
picks it up, joining the canned music with the final chord-crawl up the frets
to finale--rocking til the last power-strum brings
down the lights.) END |