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STREETS OF OLD NEW YORK - A Musical Melodrama
by
Edward Crosby Wells


Represented by 

Paul Thain

Contact for licensing rights:
 paul@stageplays.com



"A boo-and-cheer sing-along musical-melodrama sure to please all ages. Greed, murder, revenge, thievery, them-that-have and them-that-don’t, showgirls, good girls and bad, burning buildings, villains and heroes—all the ingredients for good wholesome fun for the entire family!"


© COPYRIGHT 2000, 2011 EDWARD CROSBY WELLS


All rights reserved.  Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio or television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronics or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
This material is fully protected under the Copyright Laws of the United States of America and all other countries of the Berne and Universal Copyright Conventions and is subject to royalty.  All rights including, but not limited to professional, amateur, recording, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio and television broadcasting, and the right of translation into foreign languages are expressly reserved.
No one shall commit or authorize any act or omission by which the copyright of, or the right to copyright, this play may be impaired.
No one shall make any changes in this play for the purpose of production.
Publication of this play does not imply availability for performance.  Both amateurs and professionals considering a production are strongly advised in their own interests to apply to the author or the author’s agent for written permission before starting rehearsals, advertising, or booking a theatre.
All producers of STREETS OF OLD NEW YORK- A Musical Melodrama must give credit to the Author of the Play in all programs distributed in connection with performances of the Play, and in all instances in which the title of the Play appears for the purposes of advertising, publicizing or otherwise exploiting the Play and/or a production.  The name of the Author must appear on a separate line on which no other name appears, immediately following the title and must appear in size of type not less than fifty percent of the size of the title type. 
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Internationally acclaimed playwright EDWARD CROSBY WELLS has had his plays produced from coast to coast in the U.S. and in Canada, Scotland, England, Ireland, Spain and Australia; including 3 Guys in Drag Selling Their Stuff which has had over two dozen productions worldwide, and counting. He is the winner of several international playwriting awards including the Spotlight On Best Play Award for Excellence in Off-Off Broadway Theatre for three consecutive years. His work is published by Greyridge Press, Cyberpress, StagePlays, Meriwether Publishing Ltd., Production Scripts, Smith & Kraus, Inc., and Samuel French, Inc. Edward is currently working on a novel and a new play.
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“A musical melodrama set in the late 19th century, Streets of Old New York is a piece of old fashioned "throw popcorn at the villain” type of entertainment.  The audience more than enjoyed this play; they howled with laughter!  The music was all of the period and surprisingly stands the test of time.  Mr. Wells wrote a gem of a piece that takes you back to the old Penelope Pitstop on the train track days and yet still writes in a way that anybody from the 21st century can enjoy and understand.  A smart producer should pick this piece up for an extended Broadway run.  It could bring back fun and innocence to Broadway as well as have a long life in community theatres and the school circuit.”
—NYC STAGE PAGES, July 2004


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Streets of Old New York, produced by Spotlight On and Arthur Pomposello, premiered at Iridium Jazz Club, 1650 Broadway, NYC on April 24, 2004 with the following cast:

DUF: Chuck Bunting
BLOODGOOD: Ken Bachtold
BADGER: J. Dolan Byrnes
CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: Nathanael Reimer
MARK LIVINGSTONE: Patrick O’Hare
MR. PUFFY: Knox Bundy
PAUL FAIRWEATHER: Nathanael Reimer
MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Teresa Fischer
ALIDA BLOODGOOD: Nicole Cicchella
LUCY FAIRWEATHER: Cameron Peterson

Director: Frank Calo
Musical Director: Martin St. Lawrence


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Streets of Old New York, a sing-along musical melodrama, is freely adapted from the 1857 drama The Poor of New York by Dion Boucicault. The Poor of New York (produced subsequently under many titles, including The Poor of Liverpool and The Poor of London) was first staged in New York City, and subsequently in London (1857), and Liverpool (1864).

It was actually an adaptation of Eugène Nus and Édouard Brisebarre's Les Pauvres de Paris (Paris, 1856).

The songs included in this text are, as of the date of this writing, in public domain.* Therefore, neither royalties nor permission is needed to perform them in the sing-along portions of this play. Sheet music is easily obtained.   

*NOTE REGARDING MUSIC & LYRICS: Since music and/or lyrics copyrights can be re-established, it is strongly advised that the producing agent perform follow-up research.  Should any copyrights be re-established and infringed upon, the playwright will not be held liable.
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SONGS:

Sidewalks of New York (ACT I, Scene 1 – ENTIRE CAST)
Some Sweet Day (ACT 1, Scene 1 – BLOODGOOD & BADGER)
The Fountain in the Park (ACT I, Scene 2 – ENSEMBLE)
The Bowery (ACT I, Scene 2 – ENSEMBLE)
Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland (ACT I, Scene 4 – LUCY FAIRWEATHER)
Streets of Cairo (ACT I, Scene 6 – ALIDA)
The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo (ACT I, Scene 7 – BLOODGOOD)
Give My Regards to Broadway (ACT II, Scene 1 – ENTIRE CAST)
Let Me Call You Sweetheart (ACT II, Scene 2 – LIVINGSTONE & LUCY)
Hello, Ma Baby (ACT II, Scene 3 – BADGER)
After the Ball is Over (ACT II, Scene 3 – MRS. FAIRWEATHER)
After the Ball is Over (Reprise) (ACT II, Scene 3 – PAUL)
You’re a Grand Old Flag (ACT II, Scene 5 – ENSEMBLE)
Let Me Call You Sweetheart (Reprise) (ACT II, Scene 5– LIVINGSTONE & LUCY)
Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay (ACT II, Scene 7 – ALIDA)
America the Beautiful, Medley (ACT II, Scene 8 – ENTIRE CAST)


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DRAMATIST PERSONAE (in order of appearance)
6M/3W  (+ optional townspeople)

DUF: A beggar in the streets of New York.  He is dressed in rags, a high hat, and gloves with the fingers missing.  He describes the setting, the time and the place—and leads the audience in sing-along.  He has the ability to stop the action of the play and freeze it into a tableau.  He is also expected to perform a limited amount of ad-lib while prompting the audience into hissing and booing, etc. 
BLOODGOOD:  A banker.  Evil through and through.
BADGER: A bank clerk, gone astray.
CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: An ancient mariner.  To be doubled by the actor playing Paul Fairweather.
MARK LIVINGSTONE: A young hero, fallen on hard times.
MR. PUFFY: A Baker, short of dough.
PAUL FAIRWEATHER: Tenant of Mr. Puffy.  He lives on the second floor with his mother and sister.
MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Mother of Paul and Lucy.
ALIDA BLOODGOOD: Gideon’s social-climbing daughter.  She is a VAP (Villianess American Princess).
LUCY FAIRWEATHER: The ingénue.  Mark Livingstone’s love-interest.

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THE TIME: Act One, Scene 1, takes place in the late 1870’s. The remainder of the play takes place twenty years later.

THE SETTING: Can be as simple as a backdrop depicting the late 19th century skyline of New York City.  Also an area for projecting the lyrics to the songs would be a nice touch; however, printing the lyrics in the programs or on flyers to hand out to the audience would suffice.


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ACT ONE:

Scene 1 — The bank office of Gideon Bloodgood.
Scene 2 — Twenty years later.  A bench in a park.
Scene 3 — Exterior of Bloodgood’s Bank, Nassau Street
Scene 4 — Olio.
Scene 5 — The humble dining room of the Fairweather family.
Scene 6 — Olio.
Scene 7 — The drawing room of the Bloodgood home.

ACT TWO:

Scene 1 — Olio.
Scene 2 — The drawing room of the Bloodgood home.
Scene 3 — Outside the Astor mansion on 5th Avenue.
Scene 4 — Adjoining attic rooms in a tenement on Cross Street in the slums of Five Points.
Scene 5 — The Fairweather’s old cottage in Brooklyn Heights.
Scene 6 — Outside the Cross Street tenement house.
Scene 7 — Olio
Scene 8 — The drawing room of the Bloodgood home.


ACT ONE 

Scene 1: Thebank office of GIDEON BLOODGOOD.


DUF: Welcome to the streets of old New York.  Our play is set near the end of the 19th Century.  A time when there were villains to hiss and boo at and heroes and heroines to cheer for.  A time when there were songs to sing, and everybody sang them.  Tonight, we invite you to join in our revelry by hissing and booing, throwing popcorn and peanuts, but most of all, to sing along with us!  (ENTIRE CAST fills the stage and EXTRAS if any.)  Are you ready?  I said, are you ready?  Then, let’s warm up those vocal cords.  (ALL sing.)

SIDEWALKS OF NEW YORK
Lyrics: James W. Blake and Charles E. Lawlor
Music: James W. Blake and Charles E. Lawlor


East Side, West Side, all around the town
The kids sang "ring around rosie", "London Bridge is falling down"
Boys and girls together, me and Mamie O'Rourke
We tripped the light fantastic on the sidewalks of New York

East Side, West Side, all around the town
Sweet Mamie grew up and bough herself a sweet little Alice-blue gown
All the fellas dug her, you should have heard them squark
When I escorted Mamie round the sidewalks of New York

East Side, West Side, riding through the parks
We started swinging at Jilly's then we split to P.J.Clark's
On to Chuck's Composite, then a drink at The Stork
We won't get home until morning 'cause we're going to take a walk
On the sidewalks of New York


(ALL exit except DUF.)


DUF: They call me Duf.  I was raised by pirates, until I escaped the Black Barnacle—a ship of thieves and cutthroats sailing under the jolly roger.  I washed ashore down where the Hudson spills into the mighty Atlantic.  I was a mere scallywag of a tadpole. I came to Five Points and begged for my daily bread and I’ve been a beggar ever since.  I knows my name is Duf ‘cause it’s printed right here.  (Holding out medal that hangs on a chain around his neck.)  D-U-F, Duf, that’s m’ name—Duf the beggar.  (Pause to survey the audience.)  Now, what would a melodrama be without a villain?  Meet our villain.  As mean a villain as you ever want to meet!  (GIDEON BLOODGOOD enters and takes his position onstage.  DUF holds out his hand in BLOODGOOD’s direction.)  Please, sir, can you spare poor ol’ Duf the beggar a penny or two?  (No response.)  Thought not.  (A beat.)  This is Gideon Bloodgood.  But his blood is bad, very bad, as you will soon find out.  He owns the Bloodgood Bank of New York.  He is in his office and you are about to witness his unholy treachery as he performs his dastardly deeds.

BLOODGOOD: (Unfreezes.  Reads from sheet of paper and then suddenly crumples it within his mean and angry hands.)  As I expected!  Every stock is down, and my last effort to retrieve my fortune has plunged me into utter ruin.  The Bloodgood Bank is officially bankrupt.  But, the money’s in my pocket and in my pocket it stays.  Ha, ha, ha.

DUF: This would be a good time to boo.  (Leads the audience into booing.)  Boo-o-o . . . 

BADGER: (Enters.)  Mr. Bloodgood, sir. 

BLOODGOOD: Can you not see that I am busy, Badger?

BADGER: Sir, the building committee of St. Peter’s new church has come for the donation you promised them.  They’d like a thousand dollars. 

BLOODGOOD: Tell them to come back tomorrow and lock the doors!  It is past banking hours.  (BADGER exits.  Aside.)  Tomorrow my daughter and I will be safe on board a ship bound for Liverpool.  My dear little girl, my beautiful Alida will be safe from the troubles and wants of the poor out there on the streets of New York.

BADGER: (Enters.)  They will return tomorrow, sir.

BLOODGOOD: Don’t you ever knock?

BADGER: Knock, sir?

DUF: Oh, excuse me.  Knock, knock!

BLOODGOOD: Who’s there?

BADGER: It’s me, your head clerk. 

BLOODGOOD: Why are you still shilly-shallying around after business hours?

BADGER: I’ve discovered a few problems with your accounting.

BLOODGOOD: My accounting?

BADGER: The books. T hey are cooked, sir—like a goose on Christmas.

BLOODGOOD: My goose?

BADGER: Yup.  Your goose is cooked!

BLOODGOOD: Have you told anybody about this, Badger?

BADGER: Not a soul.  But, I have taken the liberty of leaving a letter to be opened just in case I should go missing . . . or something.  For more than two years I have carefully watched your business transactions.  When you thought me idle, my hands were everywhere . . . in your books, in your safe, in your vaults, in places I won’t even mention.  If you doubt me question me about your operations for the last three months.

BLOODGOOD: This is treachery!  You are despicable!

BADGER: Thank you, sir.  There is an old seafaring gentleman in the lobby waiting for a receipt to be written in your hand for a deposit in the sum of one hundred thousand dollars.  His name is Captain Fairweather.  He is in the India Trade.

BLOODGOOD: One hundred thousand dollars!  (Aside.)  With that kind of money I could save the bank and my reputation as well.

BADGER: It is his life’s savings and he would like to deposit it before leaving his family over in Brooklyn while he sails for China.  He’s says he’s got a weak ticker, so he’d like to leave his money with us, just in case something happens—if you get my meaning. 

BLOODGOOD: Show the old salt in, Badger.  (BADGER exits.  Aside.)  This may yet prove a fortuitous Friday the 13th.  (BADGER and FAIRWEATHER enter.)

BADGER: Mr. Bloodgood, this is Captain Fairweather.

BLOODGOOD: (Jumps towards FAIRWEATHER, shouting.)  Aye, aye, Captain!

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: (A very weak and old sailor.)  Oh!  My heart!  You startled me, sir.  I need to catch my breath.  I’ve a weak, old heart, I have.

BLOODGOOD: Of course you do. Badger here should have warned me.

BADGER: But, I did . . .

BLOODGOOD: (Cutting him off.) A good first mate is hard to find, aye? 

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: You don’t know the half of it, sir.

BLOODGOOD: Perhaps, but the portion I do know causes me to lose many a good night’s sleep.

BADGER: (Aside.) There is nary a good night’s sleep for the wicked.

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: Tomorrow I sail for China. Today I bethought me of your bank. Your name stands beyond suspicion. I would like to deposit one hundred thousand dollars—all the money I have in this world. I can sleep nightly with the happy assurance that whatever happens to me, my dearest ones will be well provided for.

BADGER: (To the CAPTAIN.) You may pull your nightcap over your ears and sleep like a baby. (Aside.) While Bloodgood pulls the wool over his eyes. 

BLOODGOOD: Mr. Badger, would you be so kind as to go about your chores while the good captain and I finish up a bit of business. (BADGER frowns and exits.) Now, where were we? Ah, yes. You were about to hand over—make a deposit—of one hundred thousand dollars for safekeeping. 

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: Indeed, sir. This money is for the future of my beautiful children, Paul and Lucy. (Hands over the money.) I shall require a receipt, sir.

BLOODGOOD: (Shouting.) Of course, of course!

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: (Grabbing his heart.) You frighten me, sir. Loud and unexpected noises bring me closer to my Creator.

BLOODGOOD: (Loudly.) Really? (Softly.) I mean, really? Ah, the bosom of the Lord is a comforting place, is it not?

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: Aye, it is, sir.

BLOODGOOD: It certainly is. (Writing receipt.) “New York, Friday the 13th of (Shouts in the CAPTAIN’s ear.) Comfortable?

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: (Startled.) Aye-aye. Quite.

BLOODGOOD: Good, good. Where was I?

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: Friday the 13th.

BLOODGOOD: (Continues writing.) Indeed. 1878. Received, on special deposit, from—

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: Captain Fairweather, of the good ship Danny Boy, of New York—named after me poor dead son, bless his heart.

BLOODGOOD: Captain Fairweather, of the good ship Danny Boy, of . . . (Shouting into the CAPTAIN’s ear.) One hundred thousand dollars! 

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: (In pain.) My heart, sir, my heart . . . 

BLOODGOOD: Yes, You have a good heart, sir!

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: No, no . . . my heart is . . . is . . . 

BLOODGOOD: (Still shouting.) . . . is as big as all Creation! Now I shall stamp your receipt! (Rubber-stamping the receipt loudly.) Wait! 

CAPTAIN FAIRWEATHER: (About to pass out.) What?

BLOODGOOD: I forgot. (Jumping up and down.) I forgot to sign it! (Signs it and puts it into the CAPTAIN’s hand.) THERE! YOUR RECEIPT, SIR! (Jumping up and down a few more times, attempting to give the CAPTAIN a heart attack. Shortly, the CAPTAIN looks up, startled, and then he keels over, dead. The receipt falls to the floor and BLOODGOOD pockets the money. Enter BADGER.)

DUF: Knock, knock.

BLOODGOOD: Had your ear to the door, did you?

BADGER: Of course. Surely, you would expect nothing less.

BLOODGOOD: We had a little mishap.

BADGER: So I see.

BLOODGOOD: Is he . . .?

BADGER: Purple, sir?

BLOODGOOD: No, no, is he . . . you know . . .?

BADGER: Blue about the lips with eyes about to pop?

BLOODGOOD: No, no, is he . . . oh, c’mon, man! Is he or isn’t he?

BADGER: I’d say he isn’t. He was, but he ain’t no more.

BLOODGOOD: You mean, he is dead?

BADGER: Yup. They don’t get no deader. Apoplexy, I’d say. The cause is natural, over-excitement and sudden emotion. Speaking of sudden emotion, your daughter, Miss Alida is in the carriage at the door, screaming to be admitted. She has torn her nurse’s face in a fearful manner. Quite a bloody mess actually. Children! They are the devils in disguise, aren’t they? Mark my words, that little Alida will be your undoing. And by the way, sir, I will require a sizable payoff to remain mum, if you know what I mean.

BLOODGOOD: Precisely. You yearn for joy and sweeter days. 

BADGER: I hear it is summer year-round in California. But, it takes a great deal of money to get there, my dear Gideon.

BLOODGOOD: You shall have all you deserve, my dear Badger.


SOME SWEET DAY
Words by Edward L. Park
Music by William Howard Doane

BLOODGOOD: We shall reach the summer land,
Some sweet day, by and by,
We shall press the golden strand,
Some sweet day, by and by;
O the loved ones watching there,
By the tree of life so fair,
Till we come their joy to share,
Some sweet day, by and by.
BOTH: By and by some sweet day,
We shall meet our lov’d ones gone,
Some sweet day by and by.

BADGER: At the crystal river’s brink,
Some sweet day, by and by,
We shall find each broken link,
Some sweet day, by and by;
Then the star that fading here,
Left our hearts and homes so dear,
We shall see more bright and clear,
Some sweet day, by and by.

BOTH: By and by some sweet day,
We shall meet our lov’d ones gone,
Some sweet day by and by.

BLOODGOOD: O these parting scenes will end,
Some sweet day by and by;

BADGER: We shall gather friend with friend,
Some sweet day, by and by;

BLOODGOOD: There before our Father’s throne,
When the mist and clouds have flown,

BADGER: We shall know as we are known,
Some sweet day by and by.

BOTH: By and by some sweet day,
We shall meet our lov’d ones gone,
Some sweet day by and by. 


BLOODGOOD: My dear Mr. Badger, if you come back at nightfall and help me get rid of this body, I will see you are paid more than enough to remain mum—permanently.

BADGER: Very good, sir. (Notices receipt on floor and quickly recovers it. Aside.) Ha! Here is the receipt! Signed by Bloodgood himself. As a general rule never destroy a receipt—there is no knowing when it may prove useful. California, here I come.


Tableau.

LIGHTING FADES to Black. 

END Scene 1


Scene 2: A bench in a park. There is a fountain nearby. Twenty years later.

The entire cast strolls through the park while lazily whistling “The Fountain in the Park.” The men wear dapper high hats and the women sport busy floral and feathered hats and carry parasols. Perhaps, a couple dances round a May Pole. DUF enters.


DUF: (To audience.) It is now 1898—twenty years after the tragic death of Captain Fairweather. It is May Day here in the park. There is a chill in the morning air. (The entire cast begins singing and DUF prompts the audience to do likewise.) 

THE FOUNTAIN IN THE PARK 
Words and Music by Ed Haley

VERSE 1: While strolling in the park one day,
All in the merry month of May,
A roguish pair of eyes they took me by surprise,
In a moment my poor heart they stole away!
Oh a sunny smile was all she gave to me
And of course we were as happy as could be.

Instrumental phrase

So neatly I raised my hat
And made a polite remark.
I never shall forget that lovely afternoon,
When I met her at the fountain in the park. 

Dance interlude

VERSE 2: We linger'd there beneath the trees,
Her voice was like the fragrant breeze.
We talked of happy love until the stars above
When her loving "yes" she gave my heart to please.
A smile was all she gave to me
Of course we were as happy as could be.

Instrumental phrase
(Repeat.)


DUF and ALL except LIVINGSTONE exit.


LIVINGSTONE: (To audience.) Nine o’clock. For the last hour I have been hovering ‘round —trying to sell my overcoat to some enterprising merchant. Three months ago I was the fashionable Mark Livingstone. Today I am a ruined man from investments in stocks gone bust. I am reduced to breakfast off this coat. (Feels in his pocket.) What do I feel? A gold dollar—undiscovered in the imprudence of other days! (Withdraws his hand.) No. ‘Tis but a five-cent piece! 

PUFFY: (Enters, carrying a pail.) Past nine o’clock. I am late this morning.

LIVINGSTONE: I say, good man, what a delicious aroma permeates the air. What are you carrying in that pail?

PUFFY: Sweet potatoes, delicious, piping hot, sweet potatoes—five penny a potato, sir.

LIVINGSTONE: Indeed! (Aside.) If the Union Club saw me now, but hunger cries aloud.

PUFFY: Why, bless me, if it ain’t Mr. Paul Livingstone!

LIVINGSTONE: (Aside.) The devil! He knows me. I dare not eat a morsel.

PUFFY: I’m Puffy, sir—the baker. Served you and your good father afore you.

LIVINGSTONE: Oh, Puffy! Good to see you. (Aside.) I wonder if I owe him anything.

PUFFY: Down in the world now, sir, like so many of us nowadays. Me and the wee wifey had our bakery in Broadway—where you and your good father used to come. When the economy took a turn downward, we rented in the Bowery, set up house in the bakery and let out the rooms overhead.

LIVINGSTONE: So you are poor now, are you?

PUFFY: I ain’t ashamed to say so, sir. I got no pride to support. There’s my lodgers—a widow and her two grown children—poor as mice they are, but proud, sir. They was grand folks once; you can see that by how they try to hide it. Mrs. Fairweather’s a—

LIVINGSTONE: Fairweather—the widow of the sea captain Fairweather? 

PUFFY: That be her. Do you know my lodgers?

LIVINGSTONE: Three months ago they lived in Brooklyn—had a lovely cottage in the Heights. Paul had a clerkship in the Navy Yard.

PUFFY: Quite right, but when the economy went south, the government paid off a number of employees, and Mr. Paul was discharged.

LIVINGSTONE: They are reduced to poverty and I did not know it. (Aside.) Since my ruin I have avoided them. (To PUFFY.) And Lucy—I mean Miss Fairweather—?

PUFFY: She works at a milliner’s in Broadway—such a sweet child. 

Enter PAUL and MRS. FAIRWEATHER, dressed in black.

LIVINGSTONE: Oh! (He quickly walks away, leaving his coat on the park bench. Aside.) I wonder if they know me. (Exits.) 

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Ah, Mr. Puffy.

PUFFY: Ah, my second floor—Mrs. Fairweather, Paul—good morning. I hope no misfortune has happened; you seem to be dressed in mourning.

MRS FAIRWEATHER: This is the anniversary of my poor husband’s death. This day, twenty years ago, he was taken away from us. We keep this day sacred to his memory.

PAUL: It was a fatal day for us. When my father left home he had one hundred thousand dollars. When he was found lying dead on the sidewalk, he was robbed of all.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Oh, woe. Woe, woe, woe. And now we are friendless.

PUFFY: Friends—that reminds me—where is Mr. Livingstone? There be his coat.

PAUL: Mr. Livingstone?

PUFFY: We were talking of you just afore you came. He seems to have slipped away.

LIVINGSTONE: (Enters.) I think I left my coat. Paul, is that you?

PAUL: Good morning, sir.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Morning, Mr. Livingstone.

LIVINGSTONE: “Sir?” “Mr. Livingstone?” Have I offended you?

PAUL: We could not expect you to descend to visit us in our poor lodging.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: We cannot afford the pleasure of your society.

LIVINGSTONE: Let me assure you that I was ignorant of your misfortunes. And, if I had not called, it was because . . . because . . . (Aside.) What shall I say? (Aloud.) I have been absent from the city. May I ask how is your sister?

PAUL: My sister Lucy is now employed in a millinery store in Broadway. She sees you pass the door every day.

LIVINGSTONE: (Aside.) I must confess my ruin, or appear a contemptible scoundrel.

PAUL: Livingstone, I cannot conceal my feelings. I’m a blunt New York boy, and I’ve something of the old sailor’s blood. Sir, you have behaved badly to my sister Lucy.

LIVINGSTONE: For many months I was a daily visitor at your house. I loved your sister. 

PAUL: You asked me for Lucy’s hand and I gave it, because I loved you as a brother—not because you were rich.

LIVINGSTONE: (Aside.) To retrieve my fortunes so that I might marry I speculated in stock and lost all I possessed. 

PAUL: The next day I lost my clerkship, we were reduced to poverty, and you disappeared.

LIVINGSTONE: I can’t stand it. I will confess all. Let me sacrifice every feeling but Lucy’s love and your esteem—

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Beware, Mr. Livingstone, how you seek to renew our acquaintance. Recollect my daughter earns a pittance behind a counter, I take in work and Paul now seeks for the poorest means of earning an honest crust of bread. 

LIVINGSTONE: And what would you say if I were no better off than yourselves? 

PUFFY: You, who own a square mile of New York, no better off than ourselves?

Enter BLOODGOOD.

LIVINGSTONE: Mr. Bloodgood!

BLOODGOOD: Ah, Livingstone, do you not call to see us? You know our address. My daughter, Alida, would be delighted. By the way, I have some notes of yours at the bank that come due today. Ten thousand dollars, I think.

PAUL: Mr. Bloodgood, pardon me—I was about to call on you to solicit employment.

BLOODGOOD: I’m full, sir. In fact, I’ve been thinking of cutting staff and reducing salaries. Everybody is doing it nowadays. Let twenty workers do the work of forty and pay them half as much. (Recognizing PUFFY.) Ah, Mr. Puffy, that note of yours—

PUFFY: Oh, Lord! (Aside.) It is the note Mrs. Fairweather gave me for her rent.

BLOODGOOD: My patience is worn out.

PUFFY: It’s all right, sir.

BLOODGOOD: (Threatening.) Take care it is. (Exits.) 

LIVINGSTONE: Paul, will you believe me? My feelings are the same towards you—nay, more tender, more sincere than ever—but there are circumstances I cannot explain. Let me visit you—let me return to the place that I once held in your hearts.

PUFFY: 219 Division Street. Dinner is at half past one. Come today, sir—please, sir.

PAUL: We cannot refuse you.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: I will go to Lucy’s store and let her know. (Exits.) 

PAUL: And now to hunt for work, to go from office to office pleading for employment, to be met always with the same answer, “we are full” or “we are discharging hands.” Livingstone, my friend, I begin to envy the common laborer who has no fears, no care, beyond his food and shelter. I am beginning to lose my pity for the poor.

LIVINGSTONE: The poor? Do you know them? Do you see them? (To audience.) The poor man is the clerk with a family, forced to maintain a decent suit of clothes, paid for out of the hunger of his children. (A crowd begins to gather and listen.) The poor man is the artist who is obliged to pledge the tools of his trade to buy medicine for his sick wife. The poor man is one who struggles daily, working harder and longer hours, only to dig himself into an early grave. The poor are those who work all their lives and realize so little in return. (PUFFY and the crowd that has gathered “Bravo” and cheer.) 


DUF enters and oversees the following sing-along.


THE BOWERY
From The Show "A Trip To Chinatown"
Words by Charles H. Hoyt & Music by Percy Gaunt (1892)

VERSE 1: Oh! the night that I struck New York,
I went out for a quiet walk.
Folks who are on to the city say, 
Better by far that I took Broadway. 
But I was out to enjoy the sights,
There was the Bow'ry a blaze with lights; 
I had one of the devil's own nights, 
I'll never go there any more!

CHORUS: The Bow'ry, the Bow'ry! 
They say such things,
And they do strange things 
On the Bow'ry! 
The Bow'ry! 
I'll never go there any more! 

VERSE 2: I had walked but a block or two, 
When up came a fellow and me he knew; 
Then a policeman came walking by 
Chased him away, and I ask'd him, " Why?" 
"Wasn't he pulling your leg?" said he; 
Said I: "He never laid hands on me!" 
"Get off the Bow'ry, you, yep!" said he. 
I'll never go there any more! 

CHORUS:

VERSE 3: Then I went into an auction store, 
I never saw any thieves before.
First he sold me a pair of socks, 
Then said he, "How much for the box?" 
Someone said "two dollars!", I said "three!" 
He emptied the box and he gave it to me,
"I told you the box, not the socks," said he. 
I'll never go there any more! 

CHORUS: 

VERSE 4: I went into a concert hall, 
I didn't have a good time at all. 
Just the minute that I sat down 
Girls began singing "New Goon in Town." 
I got up mad, and I spoke out free, 
"Somebody put that man out," said she; 
A man called a bouncer attended to me, 
I'll never go there any more! 

CHORUS:

VERSE 5: I went into a barber shop,
He talk'd till I thought he'd never stop. 
I: "Cut it short", he misunderstood, 
Clipp'd down my hair just as close as he could. 
He shaved with a razor that scratched like a pin, 
Took off my whiskers and most of my chin. 
That was the worst scrape I ever got in, 
I'll never go there any more!

CHORUS: 

VERSE 6: I struck a place that they called a "dive," 
I was in luck to get out alive.
When the policeman had heard my woes, 
Saw my black eyes and my battered nose; 
"You've been held up!" said the copper, "Fly!" 
"No, sir, but I've been knock'd down!" said I; 
Then he laughed, tho' I couldn't see why, 
I'll never go there any more! 

CHORUS:

Tableau. 

LIGHTING FADES to Black.

END Scene 2

Scene 3: Exterior of BLOODGOOD’s Bank, Nassau Street.


DUF: Just a two-minute walk from the park, we find ourselves on Nassau Street where stands The Bloodgood Bank of New York. The scene is the sidewalk outside that great modern edifice of garish architecture. ‘Tis a shame that money and good taste are wasted on the rich. A penny—a penny for poor ol’ Duf— (Exits.)

BLOODGOOD: (Enters, looking at papers.) Four per cent a month—ha! If the economy continues on its current course, I shall double my fortune! Twenty years ago this very month—ay, this very day—I stood in yonder bank, a ruined man. Shall I never forget that night—when my accomplice and I carried out the body of the old sailor and laid it there? (Pointing down the street.) I never pass the spot without a shudder. But his money—oh, his glorious money—became the foundation of my new fortune. (Enter ALIDA.) Alida, my dear child, what brings you to this part of the city?

ALIDA: Oh, daddy, daddy, daddy. I want two thousand dollars.

BLOODGOOD: My dearest child, I gave you five hundred last week.

ALIDA: Pooh! Pig pooh and bear pooh! What’s five hundred to you, the richest banker in all of New York?

BLOODGOOD: But, child, you must learn—

ALIDA: I’ve learned all I need to learn, daddy! Now, get me the money! I must have it! I must, I must! 

BLOODGOOD: But—
ALIDA: Don’t stand there lollygagging. Go get the money. I must have it.

BLOODGOOD: Well, my sweet darling, if you must you must.

ALIDA: Yes, I must. I really, really must.

BLOODGOOD: Will you step in?

ALIDA: Not I. I’m not going into your dirty bank. I’ve seen all your clerks, old and ugly—they will offend my delicate senses and give me a headache, no doubt.
BLOODGOOD: I’ll go fetch it. (Exits into bank.)

ALIDA: (To audience.) This is positively the last time I will submit to his extortion. (Opens a letter and reads.) “My adored Alida, I am the most wretched of men. Last night I lost two thousand dollars while gambling—it must be paid before twelve o’clock. My queen, my angel, invent some excuse to get this money from your father and meet me at the usual place at half past eleven. There, shall I can press my warm, wet lips to your superb eyes, and twine my soft, royal hands in your magnificent hair. Adios carissima! THE DUKE OF CALCAVELLA.” (Folds letter.)

BLOODGOOD: (Re-enters, followed by PUFFY.) I tell you, sir, it must be paid. I have given you plenty of time.

PUFFY: You gave me the time necessary for you to obtain a court order.

BLOODGOOD: Alida, my love, here is your money. (Gives her notes. She takes them.) And now, will you do me a favor?

ALIDA: Oh, must I?

BLOODGOOD: Do not be seen about so much, in public, with that foreign Duke. I do not like him.

ALIDA: But, I do. Goodbye, darling daddy. (She exits.)

BLOODGOOD: How grand she looks! That girl possesses my whole heart.

PUFFY: Reserve a little for me, sir. This here note, it was give to me by my second floor tenants in payment of rent. It’s as good as gold, sir—when they are able to pay it.

BLOODGOOD: Mr. Puffy, you are the worst kind of man, you are a weak honest fool.

PUFFY: Lord, love you, sir! If you was to see my tenants—the kindest, purest second floor as ever drew God’s breath. I told them that this note was all right—for if they know’d I was put about, I believe they’d sell the clothes off their backs to pay it.

BLOODGOOD: (Aside.) This fellow is a nincompoop. But, I see if I levy execution the note will be paid. (To PUFFY.) Very good, Mr. Puffy, I will see about it.
PUFFY: You will? I knew it! I knew you would, sir.

BLOODGOOD: Very good. (Aside.) I’ll put an execution on his house at once! A bakery with rooms to let! How delightful! (Aloud.) Good day, sir. (Exits.)

PUFFY: (Watching him exit. Wistfully.) A good day—for some.

PUFFY stands alone as the LIGHTING slowly FADES to black.


END Scene 3 

Scene 4: An Olio. A darkened stage.

DUF: Ladies and gentlemen, the Union Square Music Hall proudly presents the belle of New York—that sweet songbird with the golden voice—Miss Lucy Fairweather!


A tight spotlight captures a dreamy LUCY FAIRWEATHER. The stage is completely dark around her. LUCY sings the verses and DUF oversees getting the audience to sing the Chorus.

MEET ME TO-NIGHT IN DREAMLAND
Words by Leo Friedman, Music by Beth Slater Whitson

VERSE 1: Dreaming of you, that's all I do,
Night and day for you I'm pining.
And in your eyes, blue as the skies
I can see the love-light softly shining;
Because you love me there it seems,
Pray meet me in the land of dreams.

CHORUS: Meet me to-night in Dreamland, under the silv'ry moon.
Meet me tonight in Dreamland, where love's sweet roses bloom;
Come with the love-light gleaming, in your dear eyes of blue,
Meet me in Dreamland Sweet, dreamy Dreamland,
There let my dreams come true.

VERSE 2: Sighing all day when you're away,
Longing for you dear, you only;
In blissful dreams, sweet-heart it seems
One is never sad and never lonely.
And if you'll come with me to stay,
We'll live in Dreamland night and day.

CHORUS: Meet me to-night in Dreamland, under the silv'ry moon.
Meet me tonight in Dreamland, where love's sweet roses bloom;
Come with the love-light gleaming, in your dear eyes of blue,
Meet me in Dreamland Sweet, dreamy Dreamland,
There let my dreams come true.

LIGHTING FADES to black. 

END Scene 4 

Scene 5: The humble dining room of the Fairweather family. 


MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Setting the dining room table.) Did I hear you singing, Lucy?

LUCY: (In the same position she was at the end of the last scene.) I may have been, mother. I was just trying on my new dress. Do you think it makes me look pretty?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Oh, you are so beautiful, child, you make the dress look pretty.

LUCY: My dear, dear mother—you are so kind to me.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Lucy, my darling, I do believe the thought of seeing Mark Livingstone has revived your smile. (Pause.) Is your work over, Lucy, already? Are you through for the day?

LUCY: For this day and always, mother. What we expected has arrived. This dress is all I shall receive from Madame Victorine—payment in full. I am discharged.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Bless us and save us. More misfortunes.

DUF: Knock-knock.

PUFFY: (Enters with arms full) ‘tis only Puffy. Knowing you had company; the missus made you a pigeon pie. Um, ooh, mutton kidneys in it. And, a lovely chicken and a couple loaves of bread hot from the oven, and sweet potatoes baked to perfection.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: My dear Mr. Puffy, really—such an expense—

PUFFY: Expense? Think nothing of it. Why, those pigeons was just goin’ to waste. I shot ‘em myself—pigeon droppings all over the front stoop and the sidewalk for customers to slip and slide on while running and trying to keep their pumpernickel covered. Terrible thing—pigeon droppings. Then the rooster was running ‘round—always raisin’ hereafter early in the morning—a nuisance it was. (Notices LUCY nearby.) Ah, Miss Lucy, may I comment on how well you are looking?

LUCY: Thank you, Mr. Puffy.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Mr. Puffy, I don’t know how we will ever repay you. My beloved Lucy was let go from Madam Victorine’s today.

PUFFY: Things will get better. Never lose hope, ma’am.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Bless you and yours, Mr. Puffy. I owe you too much already, but you must bestow on us no more out of your own poverty.


Enter PAUL and LIVINGSTONE.


PAUL: Allow me to take your coat, Paul. (Takes coat.)

LIVINGSTONE: Thank you.

PUFFY: Now, I must be off. I’ll just leave you fine folks to your lovely dinner. (Exits.)

LIVINGSTON: How like the old times, eh, Lucy?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Aside to PAUL.) Well, Paul, have you obtained employment?

PAUL: No, but Livingstone is rich—he must have influence.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Bless us and save us! I fear the worst is not yet come.

PAUL: Nonsense, mother, cheer up! Is there anything you have concealed from me?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: No, nothing you need to know. (Aside.) If he only knew that for five weeks we have been subsisting on the charity of the poor—Mr. and Mrs. Puffy.

LIVINGSTONE: Look at all this magnificent food!


PUFFY enters. He is shaken and trembling.


MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Why, Mr. Puffy, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost.

PUFFY: The Deputy Sheriff, he came at the suit of Gideon Bloodgood against Susan Fairweather and Jonas Puffy. The amount of debt is one hundred and fifty dollars.

LUCY: Mother!

PUFFY: He’s waiting downstairs. He wants the money immediately.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Bless us and save us!

PAUL: Oh, dear Livingstone, if you could—

LIVINGSTONE: (After a pause.) I cannot help you. Alas, I am penniless, broken.
Tableau.

LIGHTING slowly FADES to black.

END Scene 5

Scene 6: An Olio . A darkened stage.

DUF: And now, to help alleviate the sadness of our last scene, we present Miss Alida Bloodgood doing her conspicuous act of self-absorption.


(A tight key light breaks the darkness to reveal ALIDA BLOODGOOD. ALIDA sings the verses and prompt the audience to sing the Chorus.)

STREETS OF CAIRO
Words and some Music by James Thornton, Original tune Composer unknown.  Additional words by the playwright.

VERSE 1: I will sing you a song, and it won't be very long,
'Bout a maiden sweet, and she never would do wrong,
Ev'ryone said she was pretty, she was alone in the city,
All alone, oh, what a pity, poor little maid.

CHORUS 1: She never saw the streets of Cairo,
On the Midway she had never strayed,
She never saw the kutchy, kutchy,
Poor little New York maid.

VERSE 2: She went out one night, did this innocent divine,
With a nice young man, who invited her to dine,
Now he's sorry that he met her, and he never will forget her,
In the future he'll know better, poor little maid.

CHORUS 2: She never saw the streets of Cairo,
On the Midway she had never strayed,
She never saw the kutchy, kutchy,
Poor little New York maid.

VERSE 3: She was engaged, as a picture for to pose,
To appear each night, in abbreviated clothes,
All the dudes were in a flurry, for to catch her they did hurry,
One who caught her now is sorry, poor little maid.

CHORUS 3: She was much fairer far than Trilby,
Lots of more men sorry will be,
If they don't try to keep away from this
Poor little New York maid.

LIGHTING FADES to Black.

END Scene 6 

Scene 7: The drawing room of the Bloodgood home.

BLOODGOOD is seen writing at a table, while ALIDA is reading a newspaper. BOTH remain frozen until after DUF speaks.

DUF: Ah, domestic tranquility—at home with the Bloodgoods. There is no Mrs. Bloodgood. Annabelle Bloodgood died of complications from little Alida’s clawing her way out into the world. Feel free to hiss and boo at your pleasure. (Exit.)

BLOODGOOD: What are you reading?

ALIDA: The New York Herald. Shall I read aloud?

BLOODGOOD: Do.

ALIDA: (Reads.) “Wall Street is a perch on which a row of human vultures sit. Amongst these birds of prey, the most vulturous is perhaps Gideon Bloodgood.” (To BLOODGOOD.) Isn’t that nice, daddy? They’ve mentioned you in The Herald. (Reads.) “Bloodgood made his fortune in the lottery business. He then dabbled in the slave trade—long after the Emancipation. Last week he made fifty thousand dollars speculating in flour, which raised the price of bread four cents a loaf. Now there are thousands starving in the hovels of New York.” Daddy, dearest! Are you not rich?

BLOODGOOD: Why do you ask?

ALIDA: Because people say that riches are worshipped in high society—yet, I am refused admission into the best families whose intimacy I have sought.

BLOODGOOD: Refused admission! Is not Fifth Avenue open to you?

ALIDA: Pooh on Fifth Avenue! Why do we not visit those families whose names demand respect—the Livingstones, the Astors, the Vanderbilts, the Van Renssalaers?

BLOODGOOD: Is not the Duke of Calcavella at your feet?

ALIDA: The Duke de Calcavella is an adventurer who escorts me to my box at the opera so that he may attend free. I am not speaking of love—but of marriage.
BLOODGOOD: Marriage?

ALIDA: Yes, marriage into New York society, which has shut its doors to me. It is from amongst these families that I have resolved to choose a husband.

BLOODGOOD: (Rising.) Alida, my dearest, I have but one treasure and that is you. You may have my fortune—take it, but leave me a tiny portion of your affection.

ALIDA: Oh, daddy! Pooh! Pig pooh and bear pooh! You talk as if I were still a child. Surely, you don’t wish me to marry the Duke de Calcavella?

BLOODGOOD: A roué, a gambler? Heaven forbid.

ALIDA: Besides, they say he has a wife in Italy.

BLOODGOOD: Then I shall forbid him entry into this house. His reputation will compromise yours.

ALIDA: Pish-posh. I care not for my reputation.

DUF: Knock-knock!

BLOODGOOD: I wonder who that could be.

DUF: Wonder no more, sir. It is Mr. Mark Livingstone.

ALIDA: Livingstone! This is the first time that name has been announced in this house.

DUF: He comes on business.

ALIDA: Well! Show him in at once!

LIVINGSTONE: (Entering.) Mr. Bloodgood, Miss Bloodgood— (Bows.) I am most fortunate to find you at home.

ALIDA: Shall I leave you alone to your business with my father?

LIVINGSTONE: Not at all, Miss Bloodgood, my business can be said in three words.

BLOODSTONE: Indeed?

LIVINGSTONE: I am ruined.

ALIDA: Ruined?

LIVINGSTONE: My father was in a position to leave me a handsome fortune. I spent it—extravagantly—foolishly. My mother heard that my name was pledged for a large amount—Mr. Bloodgood held my paper—so, she sold out all her fortune without my knowledge, and rescued my credit from dishonor.

BLOODGOOD: Allow me to observe, I think she acted honorably, but foolishly.

LIVINGSTONE: She shared my father’s principles on these matters. (To ALIDA.) Finding I was such good pay, your father lent me a further sum with which I speculated in stocks to recover my mother’s loss. I lost everything—again—and now I am ruined.

BLOODGOOD: Mr. Livingstone, if you had applied to me a few days earlier I might have been able to be of assistance, but at the moment it is quite impossible.

LIVINGSTONE: (Aside.) Impossible—the usual expression! I am familiar with it! (To BLOODGOOD.) I regret exceedingly that I did not fall into ruin on that more fortunate moment to which you allude—a thousand pardons for my untimely demand. (He exits.)

BLOODGOOD: What impudence!

ALIDA: (At table.) Father, come here. I am writing a letter that I wish you to sign.

BLOODGOOD: To whom?

ALIDA: To Mr. Livingstone. Here, read it. (Hands it to him.)

BLOODGOOD: (Reads.) “My dear sir, give yourself no further anxiety about your debt to me. I will see that your debts are paid—and if the loan of ten thousand dollars will serve you, I beg to hold that amount at your service to be repaid at your convenience. Yours truly—“ (Throwing down letter.) I will sign nothing of the kind.
ALIDA: Pish-posh. Daddy, dearest, you are mistaken. You will.

BLOODGOOD: To what purpose?

ALIDA: I want to make a purchase . . . of a husband—a husband who is a gentleman—and through whom I can take my proper place in society. There’s the pen!

BLOODGOOD: Is your mind so set on this ambition?

ALIDA: If it cost half your fortune. (BLOODGOOD signs the paper.) You won’t regret it, daddy. (She quickly takes letter and heads toward exit.) I will see that one of the servants delivers this letter immediately. (She exits.)


Shortly after ALIDA exits, BADGER slowly slithers in—startling BLOODGOOD.


BLOODGOOD: What the devil—Badger! How did you get in?

BADGER: Pardon me, sir, I must have forgotten to knock.

DUF: Knock-knock!

BADGER: But I guess we’re beyond that now—ay, sir?

BLOODGOOD: Twenty years beyond—

BADGER: Well, aren’t you looking particularly well this fine day? You’ve hardly aged at all—over these past twenty years.

BLOODGOOD: I could say the same of you.


ALIDA silently enters and listens.


BADGER: My dear Gideon, excuse my not calling more promptly, but since my return from California, this is my first appearance in fashionable society.

ALIDA: Who is this fellow?

BADGER: Ah, Alida—how is our sweet little tootles? I don’t expect you remember me. The last time we saw one another you were having a profound misunderstanding with your nurse. If you have forgotten me—alack, alas—all is forgiven.

ALIDA: How can I recollect every begging impostor who importunes my father?

BADGER: Charming! As sweet as ever—changed in form—but the heart, my dear Gideon, is hard and dry as a biscuit.

ALIDA: Father, give this wretch a dollar and let him go.

BADGER: Ouch! Miss Bloodgood, when I hand ‘round the hat it is time enough to put something in it. Gideon, get this wench to a nunnery!

ALIDA: Is this fellow mad?

BLOODGOOD: Hush, my dear!

ALIDA: Speak out your business. I am familiar with all my father’s affairs.

BADGER: All? I doubt that.

DUF: Knock-knock!

ALIDA: Ah, that must be my dressmaker.

LUCY: (Entering.) It is the dressmaker, ma’am.

ALIDA: And you are the person I met this morning walking with Mr. Livingstone?

LUCY: Yes—ma’am.

ALIDA: Hmm. Follow me and let me see if you can attend on ladies as diligently as you do on gentlemen. (ALIDA and LUCY exit.)

BLOODGOOD: So, here you are—again. I thought you were dead.

BADGER: Like a bad shilling, come back again. Your three thousand dollars lasted for some months in California. But, had I known that instead of absconding, you remained in New York, I would have hastened back years ago—to share your revived fortunes.

BLOODGOOD: What do you mean?

BADGER: I am reduced in circumstances and without character.

BLOODGOOD: Mr. Badger, you have always been without character—and I cannot see in what way your circumstances affect me!

BADGER: Can you not? Do you ever read the Sunday papers?

BLOODGOOD: Never.

BADGER: I’ve got a story ready for one of them. Allow me to give you a sketch of it.

BLOODGOOD: Sir—

BADGER: The story begins in a bank in Nassau Street. Twenty years ago a very respectable old sea captain makes a special deposit of one hundred thousand dollars. Nobody is present but the banker and one clerk. The old captain takes a receipt and is suddenly seized by a fit apoplexy—and he dies on the spot.

BLOODGOOD: Indeed, Mr. Badger, your story is quite original.

BADGER: Ain’t it! The banker and his clerk carry the body out onto the sidewalk. The clerk received three thousand dollars hush money and left for parts unknown. The banker remained in New York and established a colossal fortune—to be continued.

BLOODGOOD: And what do you suppose such a story will be worth?

BADGER: I propose to relate that this story is a true account in every particular, and I shall advertise for the heirs of the dead man.

BLOODGOOD: Do you mean to insinuate that this applies, in any way, to me?

BADGER: It rings a distant bell. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

BLOODGOOD: Your memory is luxurious—perhaps it can furnish some better evidence of this wonderful story than the word of a man of questionable character.

BADGER: My word is worth little. But the receipt, signed by you, is worth a good deal.

BLOODGOOD: You lie!

BADGER: Let us proceed with my story. When the banker and his clerk searched for the receipt, they could not find it—a circumstance that only astonished one of the villains—because the clerk had already retrieved the document.

BLOODGOOD: Villain! Vile, vile villain!

BADGER: You may slander my character however you please, but the moral is: Never destroy a receipt.

BLOODGOOD: What do you demand?

BADGER: Five thousand dollars.

BLOODGOOD: The devil, you say! The dastardly deed of the devil!

DUF: Knock-knock!

PAUL: (Enters.) It is I, Paul Fairweather.

BLOODGOOD: What is your business with me?

PAUL: Pardon me, Mr. Bloodgood, but the officers have seized the furniture of our landlord—of your tenant—for a debt owned by my mother. I come to ask your mercy—utter ruin awaits two poor families.

BADGER: (Aside.) Oh, Supreme Justice! There is the creditor, and there is the debtor.

PAUL: I plead not for myself, but for my mother and my sister.

BLOODGOOD: I have waited long enough!

BADGER: (Rising.) So have I (To PAUL.) Have you no friends or relations to help you?

PAUL: None, sir, my father is dead.

BADGER: Your name is familiar to me—was your father in trade?

PAUL: He was a sea captain.

BADGER: Ah! He died nobly in some storm, I suppose—the last to leave his ship?

PAUL: No, sir, he died miserable! Twenty years ago his body was found on the sidewalk quite close to this bank, where he fell dead by apoplexy.

BLOODGOOD: Ah! My dear Mr. Badger, I do believe we have a little business to settle.

BADGER: Ah, yes, my dear Gideon. (Aside to BLOODGOOD.) Stocks have gone up—I want fifty thousand dollars for that receipt.

BLOODGOOD: Fifty thousand?

BADGER: (Aside.) You see the effect of good news on the market—astounding, ain’t it?

BLOODGOOD: If you will step into the dining room, you will find lunch prepared. Refresh yourself, Mr. Badger, while I see what can be done for this young man.

BADGER: (Aside.) What is he up to? I’ve got the receipt. He’s on the hook! (Exits.)

BLOODGOOD: Your situation interests me, but surely, you can find employment.

PAUL: Alas, sir, in these troubled times it is impossible. I would work at any kind of labor if I could save my mother and my sister from want.

BLOODGOOD: Perhaps, I can aid you.

PAUL: Sir, I little expected to find in you a benefactor.

BLOODGOOD: My correspondents at Rio Janeiro require a bookkeeper—are you prepared to accept this situation?

PAUL: Why, yes—

BLOODGOOD: There is one condition—you must be on a vessel that sails tomorrow. PAUL: Tomorrow?

BLOODGOOD: I will hand you a thousand dollars in advance of salary, to provide for your mother and sister; they had better leave this city until they can follow you. The terms are two thousand dollars a year. Do you accept?

PAUL: (Seizing his hand.) Mr. Bloodgood, the prayers of a family whom you have made very happy will prosper your life. God bless you, sir!

BLOODGOOD: Call again in an hour, when your papers of introduction and the money shall be ready.

PAUL: Farewell, sir. I can scarcely believe my good fortune. (Exits.)

BLOODGOOD: (To audience.) So, now to secure Badger! He must be prevented from communicating with the mother and daughter until they can be sent into some obscure retreat. As for Mr. Paul Fairweather, he will not be taking that job offer after all—seems I’ve plans to nip that in the bud. I doubt that Badger is in possession of the receipt, but I will take an assurance about that. I will go to the Superintendent of Police while Badger is gorging himself in my dining room. Ha! Badger, when you find the heirs of the estate gone, you will perhaps come down in your terms. Ha! Ha! Ha! (BLOODGOOD sings.)

THE MAN WHO BROKE THE BANK AT MONTE CARLO
Words and Music by Charles Coburn

I've just got here, thro' Paris, from the sunny southern shore;
I to Monte Carlo went, just to raise my winter's rent.
Dame Fortune smil'd upon me as she'd never done before,
And I've now such lots of money, I'm a gent.
Yes, I've now such lots of money, I'm a gent.
I stay indoors till after lunch, and then my daily walk
To the great Triumphal Arch is one grand Triumphal march,
Observ'd by each observer with the keenness of a hawk,
I'm mass of money, linen, silk and starch.
I'm mass of money, linen, silk and starch.
I patronized the tables at the Monte Carlo hell
Till they hadn't got a sou for a Christian or a Jew; So I quickly went to Parie for the charms of mad'moiselle,
Who's the load-stone of my heart. What can I do?
When with twenty tongues she swears that she'll be true?
CHORUS: As I walk along the Bois Boolong, with an independent air,
You can hear them sigh and wish to die,
You can see them wink the other eye,
At the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo.

LIGHTING dims to BLACKOUT.
 
END ACT ONE


ACT TWO – Scene 1

Scene 1 Olio.  A darkened stage.


DUF: Welcome back to the streets of old New York. (The LIGHTING slowly rises. The ENTIRE CAST strolls out onto the stage to perform the sing-along.) Please join us in a tribute to the greatest city in the world!

GIVE MY REGARDS TO BROADWAY
Words and Music by George M. Cohan
(These are the original lyrics before the 1918 re-write.)

VERSE 1: Did you ever see two Yankees part upon a foreign shore
When the good ship's just about to start for Old New York once more?
With tear-dimmed eye they say goodbye, they're friends without a doubt;
When the man on the pier, shouts, "Let them clear," as the ship strikes out.

CHORUS: Give my regards to Broadway, remember me to Herald Square,
Tell all the gang at Forty-second street, that I will soon be there;
Whisper of how I'm yearning, to mingle with the old time throng;
Give my regards to old Broadway and say that I'll be there e'er long.

VERSE 2: Say hello to dear old Coney Isle, if there you chance to be,
When you're at the Waldorf have a smile and charge it up to me;
Mention my name ev'ry place you go, as 'round the town you roam;
Wish you'd call on my gal, Now remember, old pal, when you get back home.

CHORUS: Give my regards to Broadway, remember me to Herald Square,
Tell all the gang at Forty-second street, that I will soon be there;
Whisper of how I'm yearning, to mingle with the old time throng;
Give my regards to old Broadway and say that I'll be there e'er long.
LIGHTING FADES to black.

END Scene 1

Scene 2: The drawing room of the Bloodgood home. 


DUF: (Alone.) Now let us return to the Streets of Old New York. Bloodgood was on his way to see the Superintendent of Police. We return to the drawing room of the Bloodgood home where Bloodgood has returned and is now in his study. Mr. Badger continues to engorge himself on the fine fare in the dining room. Lucy enters. (Exits.)

LUCY: (Enters, speaking to ALIDA who is still offstage.) I will do my best, Miss Alida, to please you. (Aside.) Oh! Let me hasten from this house of evil!

LIVINGSTONE: (Enters.) Lucy!

LUCY: Mark!

LIVINGSTONE: What brings you here?

LUCY: What brings the poor into the godless saloons of the rich?

ALIDA: (Enters, unseen. Aside.) Mr. Livingstone here—and with this shop girl!

LIVINGSTONE: My dear Lucy, I have news, wonderful news. I am once again rich. But before I relate my good fortune, let me hear from you the consent to share it.

LUCY: Pray tell—whatever do you mean?

LIVINGSTONE: I mean, dearest one, that I love you. I love you with all my reckless, foolish, worthless heart. Oh, my darling, do let me call you sweetheart. (Cue music.)

LET ME CALL YOU SWEETHEART
Words by Beth Slater Whitson, Music by Leo Friedman

LIVINGSTONE: I am dreaming Dear of you, Day by day
Dreaming when the skies are blue, When they're gray;
When the silv'ry moonlight gleams,
Still I wander on in dreams,
In a land of love, it seems, Just with you.

BOTH: Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.
Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.
Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true.
Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.

LUCY: Longing for you all the while, More and more;
Longing for the sunny smile, I adore;
Birds are singing far and near, Roses blooming ev'rywhere
You, alone, my heart can cheer; You, just you.

BOTH: Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.
Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.
Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true.
Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.


ALIDA: (Advancing.) Mr. Livingstone, my father is waiting for you in his study.

LIVINGSTONE: A thousand pardons, Miss Bloodgood, I was not aware. Forgive me. (Aside.) I wonder if she heard me? (To LUCY.) I will see you again this evening. (Exits.)

ALIDA: (To LUCY, who is leaving.) Stay, one word with you. Mr. Livingstone loves you? Do not deny it, I have overheard you—cooing and wooing and wooing and cooing.

LUCY: Well, Miss Bloodgood, I have no account to render you in this matter.

ALIDA: I beg your pardon—he is to be my husband.

LUCY: Your husband?

ALIDA: Mr. Livingstone is ruined. My father has come to his aid. One word from me and the hand extended to save him from destruction will be withdrawn.

LUCY: But he does not love you.

ALIDA: Pish-posh. What’s love got to do with marriage?

LUCY: You have overheard that he loves me. And, you will coldly buy this man for a husband, knowing that you condemn him to eternal misery!
ALIDA: Well, I must. I really must. Let us hope that in time he will learn to endure me.

LUCY: ‘Tis his name you require to cover the shame that stains your father’s, which all his wealth cannot conceal. His love for me will stop him from such a cowardly scheme.

ALIDA: I will make him rich. What would you make him?

LUCY: I would make him happy.

ALIDA: Will you give him up?

LUCY: Never!

LIVINGSTONE: (Enters.) Lucy, dear Lucy, do you see that lady? She is my guardian angel. To her I owe my good fortune. Mr. Bloodgood has told me all. Let me confess, had I not been thus rescued from ruin, I would have no recourse but a Colt’s revolver.

LUCY: Mark!

LIVINGSTONE: Yes, Lucy—I could not endure the shame and despair which beset me. But let us not talk of such madness—let us only remember that I owe her my life.

ALIDA: (Aside.) And that is one debt I intend to collect.

LIVINGSTONE: I owe to her all the happiness which you will bestow upon me.

LUCY: No, Mark! It is impossible. I cannot be your wife. I—I do not love you.

LIVINGSTONE: You jest, Lucy—yet no—there are tears in your eyes.

LUCY: (Looking away.) Did I ever tell you that I loved you?

LIVINGSTONE: No, it is true—but your manner, your looks, I thought—

LUCY: You are not angry with me, are you?

LIVINGSTONE: I love you too sincerely for that, and believe me I will never intrude again on your family, where my presence now can only produce pain and restraint. It will soothe the anguish you have innocently inflicted, if your family will permit me to assist them. I know it will pain you all—but you owe it to me. (LUCY falls, weeping, in a chair.) Pardon me, Miss Bloodgood. Farewell, Lucy. I take my leave. (Exits.)

ALIDA: He has gone. Dry your eyes you silly girl. I assure you those tears affect me not. I prefer that my husband-to-be have no financial relations with you. (Offering her purse to LUCY.) As you are in want, here is some assistance.

LUCY: (Rising.) You insult me, Miss Bloodgood. You thought I sold my heart—no—I gave my heart. Keep your gold—it would soil my poverty. Good day! (Exits.)

BLOODGOOD: (Enters from his study.) What is the matter, my dearest Alida?

BADGER: (Enters from the dining room.) Your cook is perfect and your wine the finest.

DUF: Knock-knock!

ALIDA: I’ll see to it, daddy dearest. (Exits.)

BADGER: Now, where were we, Gideon? Fifty thousand dollars, wasn’t it?

BLOODGOOD: I shall give you nothing, sir!

ALIDA: (Enters, quickly.) There are policemen outside! They are awaiting the departure of Mr. Badger.

BLOODGOOD: I will give you into custody for an attempt to extort money by threats and intimidation. When they search you they will find a receipt signed by me, which I shall testify was purloined from my desk yonder. (Aside.) With the arrest of Badger there’s no need to employ that wretched Paul Fairweather. He won’t be sailing at my expense!

BADGER: Well played, my dear Gideon, but, knowing the character of the society into which I was venturing, I left the dear document safe at home. (Moving toward exit.) Good day, Gideon— (To ALIDA) And good day to you, my sweet little tootles. (Exits.)

LIGHTING FADES to black.

END Scene 2

Scene 3: Outside the Astor mansion on 5th Avenue.

LIGHTING slowly rises to suggest the cool shades of night. From time to time costumed and masked revelers stroll down the street.


DUF: It is the night of the Annual Masked Ball at the Astor’s 5th Avenue mansion. As our scene opens we discover Mr. Puffy with a pan of roasting chestnuts outside the entrance to the mansion. Paul Fairweather crouches in a corner of the street, asleep.

PUFFY: Lord! I can’t sell me chestnuts. I thought if I posted myself just here, so as to catch the grand folks as they go into the Astor Ball, they might fancy to take in a pocketful. (Spots LIVINGSTONE.) Hello, stranger. (Aside.) Oh my! The poor soul is asleep. I shan’t wake him. I’ll just leave a nice handful of warm chestnuts in his lap. (He puts chestnuts in PAUL’s lap and exits.)


Enter BADGER, very ragged, with artificial flowers and boxes of matches.


BADGER: (Hawking to the audience,) Artificial flowers. You can’t go to Mrs. Astor’s Ball without a lovely corsage for the ladies—or a nice boutonniere for the gentlemen. Get you artificial flowers here. How about a box of Lucifer’s? A hundred per box for three penny. (Pause.) Reduced to this by the villainous hands of Gideon Bloodgood. One day I shall avenge his treachery! But now, how ‘bout some entertainment? (Throws his hat onto the ground.) Bless me with whatever change you can afford.

DUF: And now, an act of utter despair as Badger goes into his song and dance. Feel free to sing along and throw those pennies, but please try not to harm our actor!

BADGER goes into his song and dance.

HELLO, MY BABY
Words and Music by Ida Emerson and Joseph E. Howard

INTRODUCTION: Hello, Hello, Hello, Hello, Hello, Hello,

VERSE 1: I've got a little baby, but she's out of sight,
I talk to her across the telephone.
I've never seen my honey but she's mine all right,
So take my tip and leave this gal alone.
Every single morning you will hear me yell,
"Hey Central! Fix me up along the line."
He connects me with ma honey, then I rings the bell,
And this is what I say to baby mine,

CHORUS: Hello! ma baby, Hello! Ma honey, Hello! ma ragtime gal.
Send me a kiss by wire, baby my heart's on fire!
If you refuse me, Honey, you'll lose me, then you'll be left alone;
Oh baby, telephone and tell me I'm your own.
Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello there.

VERSE 2: This morning through the phone she said her name was Bess,
And now I kind of know where I am at.
I'm satisfied because I've got my babe's address
Here pasted in the lining of my hat.
I am mighty scared, 'cause if the wires get crossed,
'Twill separate me from ma baby mine,
Then some other man will win her, and my game is lost,
And so each day I shout along the line,
Hello, hello, hello.
Hello, hello, hello.

CHORUS: Hello! ma baby, Hello! Ma honey, Hello! ma ragtime gal.
Send me a kiss by wire, baby my heart's on fire!
If you refuse me, Honey, you'll lose me, then you'll be left alone;
Oh baby, telephone and tell me I'm your own.


Repeat CHORUS after instrumental and soft-shoe dancing interlude.


MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Enters.) I cannot return to our miserable home without food for my children. Each morning, we separate in search of work, in search of food, only to meet again at night—their poor faces thin with hunger. (She clasps her hands in anguish.) Ah! What have we here? Yes, this remains—it is gold!

BADGER: (Overhearing her last word.) Gold? Artificial flowers—a box of matches?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Tell me, friend, where can I buy a loaf of bread at this hour?
BADGER: There’s a saloon open in the 4th Avenue. (Aside.) Gold—she said, gold.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Will they accept this pledge for some food? (Shows him ring.)

BADGER: Let me see it.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: ‘Tis my wedding ring.

BADGER: (Examining the ring. Aside.) I could easily make off with it. What will I do?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: My children are starving. I must part with it to buy them bread.

BADGER: (Reluctantly, returns ring.) Go along and buy your children food. Don’t show that ring to anybody else. You deserve to lose it for showing it to such a blackguard as I.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Thank you, kind sir. (Exits.)

BLOODGOOD: (Enters) I’m late! So very, very late! What, pray tell, is the time?

BADGER: A boutonniere for the gentleman? Perhaps, some Lucifer’s— (Recognizing him.) Bloodgood! The devil himself.

BLOODGOOD: Badger! (BLOODGOOD puts his hand into the breast of his coat).

BADGER: Take your hand out of your breast! I’ve a knife up my sleeve that would rip you up like a dried codfish before you could cock that revolver you have there so handy.

BLOODGOOD: You are mistaken.

BADGER: I think not! I did not spend ten years in California for nothing!

BLOODGOOD: What do you want?

BADGER: I want your life—but legally. You have driven me to despair. I am reduced to selling matches and artificial flowers. A week ago, I came out of prison—you had removed the Fairweather family. I could not find a trace of them, but I found the receipt where I had concealed it. Tomorrow I shall place it in the hands of the District Attorney with my confession of your murder of the Sea Captain.

BLOODGOOD: Murder? Demon! Bring that document to my house tomorrow.

BADGER: No, sir—e-e! Once caught twice shy. Come to my house, tonight—and alone.

BLOODGOOD: Where do you live?

BADGER: Nineteen and a half Cross Street, Five Points—fifth floor, back—my name is on the door in chalk.

BLOODGOOD: In an hour I will be there.

BADGER: In an hour. Don’t forget to present my compliments to your charming daughter—sweet creature! (Exit BLOODGOOD. To audience.) Lucifers—three penny a hundred! Artificial flowers! Get them while they last! (Moving toward exit.) Bloodgood, you will pay for your dastardly deeds! (Exits.)

LUCY: (Enters, stands under lamppost.) The sisters of charity in Houston Street told me that I might find work at this address. (Strikes a provocative pose, with innocence.)

PAUL: (Rises. To audience.) My limbs are powerless. How long have I slept there? Another long day has passed. Since Bloodgood withdrew his offer of employment I have crept ‘round streets and alleys. I have begged for work—but they laugh at my poor thin form—the remnant of better days hung in tatters about me. My poor mother! My dear sister! Were it not for you, I would lie down here and die—in the streets of New York. (He staggers and falls to his knees against the lamppost in despair.)

LUCY: (Not recognizing him.) Kind sir, may I be of assistance?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Enters.) They refused to take my ring—they said I had stolen it!

PAUL: (Rising.) Let me return to our home—perhaps mother or Lucy has found work.
MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Sir! Sir! In the name of your mother—help my poor children.

PAUL: Mother?

LUCY: My brother?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: My son?

PAUL: Oh, mother! My own Lucy! My heart is broken! (They embrace.) Have you concealed from me the extent of your misery?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: My poor children! I cannot see you die of hunger!

PAUL: Fear not, mother, the wretched have always one resource—they can die! Do not weep, Lucy—in an hour I will be with you. (Aside.) I will go and await the crowd as they leave the Astor’s—amongst them some Christian heart will aspire to aid me. (Exits.)

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Lucy, start on home. I’ll be with you in a minute.

LUCY: Why, mother?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: I just want one more peek into the Astor’s home—to watch the masked partygoers laugh and dance in merriment—at so grand a ball—in their beautiful costumes and masks. I’ll only be a minute, Lucy.

LUCY: All right, mother, just a minute. (She exits.)

DUF: And now, a song of utter despair and longing, of sadness and tears. The lovely Mrs. Fairweather will give us her rendition of “After the Ball is Over.”

(Alone onstage, as the lights dim around her, MRS. FAIRWEATHER sings.)

AFTER THE BALL IS OVER
Words and Music by Charles K. Harris

After the ball is over, after the break of morn,
After the dancers’ leaving, after the stars are gone;
Many a heart is aching, if you could read them all;
Many the hopes that have vanished, after the ball.
(Repeat.)

MRS. FAIRWEATHER exits. Enter ALIDA and LIVINGSTONE. They are in costume and carry their masks.

ALIDA: How strange that my father has not arrived.

LIVINGSTONE: Allow me to look for the carriage.

ALIDA: I will remain here. (LIVINGSTONE exits. Aside.) At last I have won the husband I desire. He is entangled in my father’s debt. In one month hence I shall be Livingstone’s wife. The best people in New York will be at my feet. The dear Duke still makes love to me—to which Livingstone appears indifferent—so much the better!

PAUL: (Enters.) Ah! Miss Alida Bloodgood.

ALIDA: I wonder they permit such vagabonds to hang about the Astor’s mansion.

LIVINGSTONE: (Re-enters.) The carriage is ready— (Recognizing PAUL.) Paul?

PAUL: Livingstone!

LIVINGSTONE: Great heaven! In what a condition do I find you!

PAUL: We are poor—we are starving.

ALIDA: Pish-posh! Give the fellow a dollar and send him away.

LIVINGSTONE: My dear Alida, you do not know, this is a schoolfellow and old friend—

ALIDA: I know you are keeping me from my carriage. Ah! I see the Duke on the steps yonder. He will see me to my home. Don’t let me take you from an old friend. (Exits.)

LIVINGSTONE: (Aside.) Cold heartless girl! (Aloud.) Come, Paul, come quickly. Bring me to where I shall find your mother and your sister. Wait! Let me first go home and get money. I will meet you at your lodgings. Where do you live?
PAUL: Number nineteen and a half Cross Street—Five Points. I will wait at the door.

LIVINGSTONE: In less than an hour I shall be there. (Exits.)

Masked revelers enter.

DUF: Everybody sing!

PAUL sings with the masked revelers.

After the ball is over, after the break of morn,
After the dancers’ leaving, after the stars are gone;
Many a heart is aching, if you cold read them all;
Many the hopes that have vanished, after the ball. (Repeat.)
LIGHTING FADES to black.

END Scene 3 

Scene 4: Adjoining attic rooms in a tenement on Cross Street in the slums of Five Points. The stage is dark.


DUF: Come now to the rough and tumble, to the dangerous slums of Five Points. Nineteen and a half Cross Street—two adjoining attic rooms. That room belongs to Badger— (A round pool of LIGHTING opens on one side of the stage. BADGER enters and sits.) And that room to the Fairweather family— (LIGHTING opens on the other side of the stage. MRS. FAIRWEATHER enters and sits in a chair, followed by LUCY who kneels nearby.) Two adjoining rooms separated by a thin and rotting wall. (Exit.)

LUCY: (Lighting a candle.) Surely an hour has passed, yet Paul has not returned.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Oh, merciful father! Protect my poor children.

BADGER: (Scraping matches—they do not light.) One hundred worthless matches. (Lighting one.) Oh, lucky chance! Here’s one that condescends. (Lights a candle.)

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Day after day with no hope—the future worse than the present. Woe, woe, woe. Bless us and save us. This load of wretchedness is too much to bear.

LUCY: The candle is nearly burned down.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: So much the better, I shall not be able to see your tears.

BADGER: (Taking a bottle from his pocket.) There’s the concentrated essence of comfort—the poor man’s plaster for the inside.

LUCY: (Aside.) Is there no way to end this misery? None but death?

BADGER: (Finds a slice of bread.) Here’s my supper. (To imaginary servant.) James, lay the table, spread the cloth. There’s a draught in this room, do take care of it, more champagne, James. Don’t let the bubbles expire. Thank you, James. (Drinks & eats.)

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Aside.) If Paul had only Lucy to support, they might live. Why should I prolong my life only to hasten theirs?

BADGER: There are great chinks in the wall. I must see my landlord and solicit repairs. A new family moved into the next room, yesterday. I wonder who they are?

LUCY: (Aside.) The wretched always have recourse—they can die.

BADGER: Now let us do a little business, James. Gideon Bloodgood is coming for the receipt bequeathed to me by the old sailor. What price shall we set upon it, James?

LUCY: (Aside.) When I am gone, there will be one less mouth to feed.

BADGER: When I am rich, I will dine on the finest steaks at Delmonico’s,

LUCY: (Aside.) When I am gone, Paul will have but one care to provide for.

BADGER: When I am rich, I will have the respect I deserve.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Rises. Aside.) In yonder closet we have some charcoal—there is enough left to bestow on me an easy death. (Exits into closet.)

BADGER: All I want is to live the life that every man desires.

LUCY: When I am gone, nobody will even know. (Rises and moves towards closet.)

BADGER: I think fifty thousand dollars would be the figure! Oh, what a prospect!

LUCY: (Looks into the closet.) What is mother doing? She is lighting the pan of charcoal on which we prepare our food. Ah, the thought! Could I induce her to leave me alone? The deadly fumes of that fuel will bestow on me an easy death.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Enters. Aside.) Now, while I have the courage of despair.

BADGER: Fifty thousand dollars! I’ll have a pair of fast trotters! James, I think I’ll have more bubbly. (Takes a drink.) Thank you, my good man—you’re a pip of a peach!

LUCY: Mother, I just remembered a friend, a girl at work from whom I may get help.
MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Go, then, my child—yes—go at once.

LUCY: I fear to go alone. Come, you can wait at the corner of the street until I come out.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Aside.) When she is out of sight I shall return and accomplish my purpose.

LUCY: (Aside.) I will come back by another way.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Come, Lucy.

LUCY: I am ready, mother. (Aside.) She does not think that we are about to part forever.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Aside.) My poor child! She does not think that we are about to part forever.

BADGER: Fifty thousand dollars! I’ll be a man among the rich!


LUCY and MRS. FAIRWEATHER exit. The LIGHTING on their side of the adjoining rooms slowly dims.


BLOODGOOD: (Enters.) Ah, Mr. Badger.

BADGER: Please to wipe your feet before you come in—my carpet is new. I am glad to see you. Do take a seat upon my posh sofa. (Pointing to floor.)

BLOODGOOD: Come, sir, to business. You have the receipt with you, I trust?

BADGER: You know I have it or you would not have come.

BLOODGOOD: How much do you want for it?

BADGER: Stay a moment. Let us see. You have had in your possession for twenty years, the sum of one hundred thousand dollars—the profits of one robbery. Well, at eight per cent, this sum would now be doubled.

BLOODGOOD: Let me see the document, and then we can estimate its value.
BADGER: (Removes the receipt from his pocket.) Here it is.

BLOODGOOD: (Springing towards him.) Let me have it.

BADGER: Hands off!

BLOODGOOD: (Draws pistol.) That paper, give it me or I’ll blow your brains out!

BADGER: (Backing away.) Ah, I expected as much from you! (Draws pistol.)

BLOODGOOD: Damnation!

BADGER: Mind you, watch your cussing while you’re under my roof!

BLOODGOOD: A thousand curses on you!

BADGER: Derringer’s self-cocking. Drop your hand, or I’ll blow you into the fires of Satan! (BLOODGOOD drops the gun.) So, you took me for a fool—that’s where you made your mistake. I took you for a thorough rascal—a vile villain—that’s where I did not make a mistake. Now, let us do business.

BLOODGOOD: How much do you want?

BADGER: Fifty thousand dollars!

BLOODGOOD: Be it so.

BADGER: In cash.

BLOODGOOD: Very well. Tomorrow—

BADGER: No, tonight.

BLOODGOOD: Tonight?

BADGER: Yes. I wish to purchase a house on the avenue early in the morning.

BLOODGOOD: Come with me to my house in Madison Square.

BADGER: No, thank you. I’ll expect you here in an hour with the money.

BLOODGOOD: (Aside.) He has me in his power—I must yield. (Aloud.) I will return, then, in an hour. (Exits.)


LIGHTING rises on the FAIRWEATHER room as LUCY Enters.


LUCY: I took a cross street and ran quickly home. The fumes of the charcoal will soon fill this tiny room. They say it is an easy death—but let me not hesitate—let me sleep the long sleep where there are no more tears, no more suffering. (Exits into closet.)

BADGER: So, finally it is settled.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Enters.) Poor Lucy! I dared not look back upon her, as we parted forever. Despair hastened my steps. My poor children! I have given you all I had, and now I hope my wretched life will serve you in your terrible need. Come, courage—let me to my deep sleep, and may the Good Lord forgive me.

BADGER: (Sniffing.) I smell charcoal—burning charcoal—where can it come from? It’s very odd. I’ve a queer feeling in my head. I must lie down awhile. (Lies on floor.)

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Crossing to closet as LUCY enters with charcoal brazier.) Lucy!

LUCY: (Sets brazier on floor.) Mother!

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: My child, what is this? For what purpose are you here?

LUCY: And you, mother, why are you here? Like me, you wished to die.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: No, no, you shall not die! Oh, my darling child—you are young—life is before you—hope—happiness.

LUCY: The future? The man I love will soon wed another. I have no future.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Hush, my child, hush.

LUCY: Is it not better to die thus, than by either grief or hunger?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Falls into chair.) Already my senses fail. Lucy, my child, live!

LUCY: (Falls to her feet.) No. Let us die together.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Oh, merciful Judge in heaven, forgive us—

BADGER: I feel quite sleepy. I must not go to sleep.

PAUL: (From offstage.) Mother, open the door! Why is the door locked? Mother, mother! Open the door! (Bursts into the room—he is followed by LIVINGSTONE. PAUL runs to his mother and sister.) Too late! Too late! They have committed unspeakable suicide!

LIVINGSTONE: They live still. Quick, cover the burning charcoal, and bear them outside into the air. (Carries LUCY out while PAUL assists his mother to exit.)

BADGER: (Starting up.) I cannot breathe. Have I drunk too much? Let me try my legs a bit. Where’s the door. I can’t see the door—my head spins ‘round! I’m suffocating! I’m going to die, to die just like that old sea captain! Bloodgood will return and find me helpless, then, he will rob me of the receipt. He shall not have it! There is a nook under that floorboard. That is where I shall put it—if I have the strength to reach it. (Drags himself to the spot and places the receipt under a floorboard.) Forgive me, Lord. I have led a miserable life of sin. Spare me and I will dedicate my life to helping others—

DUF: (Enters, wearing angel’s wings.) Will you turn from your life of villainy?

BADGER: I will, sweet angel, I will.

DUF: Will you dedicate yourself to helping the poor on the streets of New York?

BADGER: Yes, sweet angel, yes.

DUF: Sleep. All is forgiven. (Exits.)

PAUL: (Enters adjoining room.) I heard smothered cries coming from this floor. (Exits.)

BLOODGOOD: (Enters.) Here I am, Badger. What a suffocating atmosphere! Where is he? Ha! He is intoxicated!

PAUL: (Rushing into BADGER's room) Perhaps the cry came from in here.

BLOODGOOD: (Turning quickly.) Paul Fairweather?

PAUL: Gideon Bloodgood?

BADGER: (Raising his head.) What names were those? Both of them—together here? (To PAUL.) Listen—while I yet have breath to speak—listen! Twenty years ago, that man robbed your father of one hundred thousand dollars!

PAUL: Robbed?

BLOODGOOD: Scoundrel!

BADGER: I’ve got the proof.

PAUL: The proof?

BADGER: You’ll find it—it—ah— (He falls backwards, insensible. PAUL and BLOODGOOD stand aghast.)
Tableau.

LIGHTING FADES to black.

END Scene 4 

Scene 5: The FAIRWEATHER’s old cottage in Brooklyn Heights.

DUF: Now, let us go to Brooklyn Heights, just across the river, overlooking the city of New York and her harbors. You can smell the fragrant flowers in Mrs. Fairweather’s garden. Ah! How lovely. (LIGHTING slowly rises and we see MRS. FAIRWEATHER and PAUL are watching PUFFY as he raises the American flag on the lawn flagpole.) There is Mrs. Fairweather and Paul, and there is Puffy raising the flag high overhead. It is the Fourth of July. What a beautiful sunny day! And, what a beautiful grand old flag!


MUSIC begins. ALL sing. DUF prompts the audience to join in the chorus.


YOU’RE A GRAND OLD FLAG
Words and Music by George M. Cohan

VERSE 1: There's a feeling comes a stealing and it sets my brain a reeling
When I'm listening to the music of a military band.
Any tune like "Yankee Doodle" simply sets me off my noodle,
It's that patriotic something that no one can understand.
"Way down South in the land of cotton," melody untiring, ain't that inspiring!
Hurrah! Hurrah! We'll join the jubilee, and that's going some for the Yankees, by gum!
Red, white and blue, I am for you. Honest, you're a grand old flag.

CHORUS: You're a grand old flag, though you're torn to a rag,
And forever in peace may you wave.
You're the emblem of the land I love,
The home of the free and the brave.
Every heart beats true under red, white and blue.
Where there's never a boast or brag;
"But should auld acquaintance be forgot,"
Keep your eye on the grand old flag.

VERSE 2: I'm no cranky hanky panky, I'm a dead square honest Yankee,
And I'm mighty proud of that old flag that flies for Uncle Sam.
Though I don't believe in raving every time I see it waving,
There's a chill runs up my back that makes me glad I'm what I am.
Here's a land with a million soldiers, that's if we should need 'em, we'll fight for freedom!
Hurrah! Hurrah! For every Yankee Tar, and old G.A.R., every stripe, every star,
Red, white and blue, hats off to you. Honest, you're a grand old flag.

Repeat CHORUS.


PUFFY: ‘Tis a grand old flag! How is dear Miss Lucy this fine Fourth of July morning?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Her recovery is slow—she is still very weak.

PAUL: Her life is saved—for a whole month she hovered over the grave.

PUFFY: But why is it we never see Mr. Livingstone? Our benefactor is like Santa Claus—he showers benefits and blessings on us, yet he never shows his face.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: He brought us back to this, our old home—he obtained employment for Paul in the Navy Yard.

PUFFY: He set me up again with my very own patented oven, and got me a government contract for Navy biscuits.

PAUL: I will tell you why Livingstone avoids our gratitude: Because my sister Lucy refused his love—because he has sold his hand to Alida Bloodgood—and he has given us the purchase money.

PUFFY: And amongst those who have served us, don’t let us forget poor Badger.

BADGER: (Entering.) Do I hear my name? They are talking about me.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Aye! Who’d forget the man who watched over Lucy during her illness with the tenderness of a brother? A mother never forgets such acts of kindness.

PUFFY: Them’s my sentiments to the hair.

BADGER: You shan’t have cause to change them.

PAUL: Badger, you’re looking well.

BADGER: Indeed! Congratulate me. I have been appointed to the police. The commissioners wanted a special service to oversee the doings in Wall Street. All sorts of shenanigans seem to have concentrated there—and we want to catch a big offender.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: (Rises.) I will tell Lucy that her nurse has come. (Exits.)

PAUL: Now, Badger, the news.

BADGER: Bad news, sir. Tonight, just before the great fireworks display, Mr. Mark Livingstone is to be married to Miss Alida Bloodgood.

PAUL: What shall I do? I dare not accuse Bloodgood of this robbery, unless you can produce the proof—and perhaps the wretch has discovered and destroyed it.

BADGER: I think not. When I recovered from the effects of the charcoal, the day after my suffocation, I started for my lodging. I found the house shut up, guarded by a servant of Bloodgood’s—the banker had bought the building. But I had concealed the document too cunningly. No, sir, he has not found it.

PAUL: Knowing this man to be a felon, can we allow Livingstone to marry his daughter?

LIVINGSTONE: (Enters.) Paul, I have come to bid you farewell, and to see Lucy for the last time—

LUCY: (Enters.) For the last time, why so—


PAUL and BADGER rush to her aid.


LIVINGSTONE: Lucy, dear Lucy.

BADGER: Now take care—sit down—

LUCY: Ah, my good and kind nurse— (She sits.) You are always by my side.

BADGER: Always ready with a dose of nasty medicine, aint I? Well, now I got another dose ready. Do you see this noble kind heart, Lucy? (Indicates LIVINGSTONE) It looks through two honest blue eyes into your face—tell him, tell him what you see in there . . .

LUCY: Why do you trouble me so?

BADGER: Don’t turn your eyes away. The time has come when deception is a crime, Lucy. Look into his face, and confess the infernal scheme by which Alida Bloodgood compelled you to renounce your love.

LIVINGSTONE: Alida!

LUCY: Has she betrayed me?

BADGER: No, you have betrayed yourself. In the ravings of your fever, while I held your trembling hands, I heard the cries that came from your poor wounded heart.

LUCY: (Hiding her face in her hands.) No, no.

LIVINGSTONE: Paul, is this true? Have I been deceived?

PAUL: You have—Lucy confessed to me this infamous bargain, extorted from her by Alida Bloodgood—and to save you from ruin she sacrificed her love.

LIVINGSTONE: Lucy. Dear Lucy, look up. It was for your sake alone that I accepted this hated union—to save you and yours from poverty—but whisper one word, tell me that ruin of fortune is better than ruin of the heart.


LUCY rushes into LIVINGSTONE’s arms. BOTH sing.


BOTH: Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.
Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.
Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true.
Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.


MRS. FAIRWEATHER rushes in with the old sea captain’s telescope.


MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Take a look through this! There seems to be a fire over in New York—Five Points—and if I’m not mistaken— (BADGER grabs the telescope.)

PAUL: Now Mark, I can confess to you that a document exists—proof of felony against Bloodgood, which may at any moment consign him to the State Prison and transfer to our family his ill-gotten wealth.

LIVINGSTONE: Proof of felony?

BADGER: (Looking up from the telescope.) The fire is in Cross Street!

PAUL: Twenty years ago he robbed my father of one hundred thousand dollars.

BADGER: Damnation! It is our old lodging! And the proof of Bloodgood’s felony is yonder, in that burning house—fired by Bloodgood to destroy the evidence! Curses—a thousand curses on him! Quick—for our lives! The fortunes of Lucy and Paul and Mrs. Fairweather are all in that burning house! I go to save it or to perish in the flames!

Tableau. LIGHTING FADES to black.

END Scene 5 


Scene 6: Outside the Cross Street tenement house. The stage is dark.

DUF: What dirty deeds are done in the name of money! Welcome to Number nineteen and a half Cross Street—Five Points.

BLOODGOOD: (Carries a candle across the darkened stage.) In a few hours, this accursed house will be in the ruins! The receipt is concealed there—and it will be consumed in the flames! Ha! (A red burning glow begins to spill onto the street.) Now Badger—do your worst—I am safe! (He runs to exit.)


The SOUNDS of horns and bells and people shouting ‘Fire, fire.” BADGER is seen running. He disappears into the burning building. More cries from the crowd—mere shadows on the corner of the street. Loud crashes are heard. Cries of horror are uttered by the mob. BADGER drags himself from the ruins and collapses. LIVINGSTONE, PAUL and PUFFY rush in. PAUL kneels by the still body of BADGER and extinguishes the fire that clings to parts of his clothes.


PUFFY: Will he live?

PAUL: Only God knows that answer.

Tableau.

LIGHTING FADES to black.

END Scene 6 


Scene 7: An Olio.


DUF: Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Alida Bloodgood—soon to be Mrs. Alida Livingstone—will perform for us her last song of maidenhood.


A single SPOTLIGHT illuminates ALIDA. She is wearing her wedding dress. ALIDA sings and DUF coaches the audience to sing along with the chorus.


TA-RA-RA BOOM-DE-AY
Author(s) unknown.

VERSE1: A smart and stylish girl you see,
Queen of swell society,
Not to strict but rather free
When it’s on the straight Q.T.

CHORUS: Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!

VERSE 2: But the very thing I’m told,
Not too timid, not too bold.
Just the kind you’d like to hold,
Not too hot and not too cold.

CHORUS: Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay!

LIGHTING FADES to black.

END Scene 7 


Scene 8: The drawing room of the BLOODGOOD home. 


DUF: Here we are in the drawing room of Bloodgood’s Mansion, in Madison Square. Soon the Bloodgood home will be a-buzz with the sound of a wedding. And here comes Mr. Gideon Bloodgood, the soon-to-be—but rather reluctant—father of the bride. (Exits.)

BLOODGOOD: (Enters.) The evidence of my crime is destroyed—no power on earth can reveal the past. (ALIDA enters, in her wedding gown.) My dearest child, tonight you will leave this roof; but from this home in your father’s heart, none can displace you.

ALIDA: Pish-posh, papa, do take care of my flounces—you men paw one about as if a dress was put on only to be rumpled.

BLOODGOOD: The rooms below are full of company. Has Livingstone arrived?

ALIDA: I did not inquire. Must I do everything? The duke is there. Looking the picture of misery, while all my female friends pretend to congratulate me—but I know they are dying with envy and spite.

BLOODGOOD: And do these feelings constitute the happiest day of your life? Alida, have you no heart?

ALIDA: Yes, father, I have a heart—but it is like yours. It is an iron safe in which are kept the secrets of the past.


Enter LIVINGSTONE, dressed as he was when last seen.


BLOODGOOD: Ah! At last! What a strange costume for a bridegroom.

ALIDA: (Turns and views LIVINGSTONE.) Had I not good reasons to be assured of your sincerity, Mr. Livingstone, your appearance would lead me to believe that you looked upon this marriage as a jest, or a masquerade.

LIVINGSTONE: As you say, Miss Bloodgood, it is a masquerade—but it is one where more than one mask must fall.

BLOODGOOD: (Aside.) What does he mean?

ALIDA: How dare you speak to me in that tone?

BLOODGOOD: Perhaps I had better see Mr. Livingstone alone—he may be under some misapprehension.

LIVINGSTONE: I am under none, sir. Although, I believe you may be. What I have to say demands no concealment. I come here to decline the hand of your daughter.

BLOODGOOD: You must explain this public insult! Guests are gathered below!

LIVINGSTONE: I am here to do so, but I do not owe this explanation to you; I owe it to myself. (To ALIDA.) I found myself in your father’s debt; he held in pledge all I possessed—all but my good name; the name he wanted to shelter the infamy of his own soiled name. I was vile enough to sell it.

ALIDA: These matters you were fully acquainted with when you sought my hand.

LIVINGSTONE: But I was not acquainted with the contents of these letters—written by you, to the Duke of Calcavella—given me by the duke himself.

BLOODGOOD: Dare you insinuate their contents derogatory to the honor of my child?

LIVINGSTONE: No, sir, but I think Miss Bloodgood will agree with me, that the sentiments expressed in these letters entitle her to the hand of the duke rather than to mine. (He hands the letter to ALIDA.)

ALIDA: Throw him out, father!

LIVINGSTONE: Not yet. You forget that my friends are assembled downstairs to witness a marriage, and all we require is a bride.

BLOODGOOD: Yes; a bride who can pay your debts.

PAUL: (Enters, followed by MRS FAIRWEATHER.) No, sir—a bride who can place the hand of a pure and loving maiden in that of a good and honest man.

ALIDA: Pish-posh!

BLOODGOOD: Be still, daughter! (To PAUL.) How dare you intrude in this house?

PAUL: Because it is mine—because your whole fortune will scarcely serve to pay the debt you owe the widow and the children of Captain Adam Fairweather!

BLOODGOOD: Is my house to be invaded by beggars? Is there no law in New York for ruffians? I shall summon the police!

BADGER: (Entering in the uniform of a police officer.) And here’s the police!

BLOODGOOD: Badger!

BADGER: What’s left of him.

BLOODGOOD: (Wildly.) Is this a conspiracy to ruin me?

BADGER: That’s it. We began it twenty years ago. We’ve been hatching it ever since. We let you build up a fortune—we tempted you to become an incendiary—we led you on from misdemeanor to felony—and that’s what I want you for.

BLOODGOOD: What do you mean?

BADGER: My meaning is set forth very clearly in an affidavit, on which the Recorder, at this very late hour and on this day we celebrate American independence, has issued this warrant for your arrest. (Hands him the warrant.)

BLOODGOOD: Incendiary? Dare you charge a man of my standing in this city, with such a crime—without any cause?

BADGER: Cause? You wanted to burn up this receipt, which I was just in time to rescue from the flames.

BLOODGOOD: (Drawing a knife.) Fiend! You escaped the flames here—now go to those never ending flames in the burning pits of the Hereafter!

BADGER: Not so fast! (Disarms BLOODGOOD and slips a pair of handcuffs on him.)

ALIDA: Oh, pish-posh, daddy.

BADGER: Oh, shut up, tootles!

ALIDA: Father—

BLOODGOOD: Alida, my child.

ALIDA: How utterly thoughtless of you! Is this what I have come to? Am I now to be the felon’s daughter?

BLOODGOOD: Alida, my child, it was for you alone I sinned—do not leave me.

ALIDA: What should I do in this city? What am I fit for? (Throws down her bride’s coronet.) —the same fate as you—infamy. Oh, pish-posh! (She turns and exits.)

BADGER: Gideon, my dear, shall we depart for the stationhouse.

BLOODGOOD: Take me away; I have lost my child—my sweet Alida!

PAUL: Stay! Mr. Bloodgood, in the midst of your crime there was one virtue: You loved your child; even now your heart deplores her ruin—not your own. Badger, give me that receipt. (Takes the receipt.) Do you acknowledge this paper to be genuine?

BLOODGOOD: I do.

PAUL: (Tears it.) I have no charge against you. Let him be released. Restore to me my fortune, and take the rest; go, follow your child; save her from ruin, and live a better life. (BADGER releases BLOODGOOD from the handcuffs.)

BLOODGOOD: You are a far better man than I. Perhaps there is time yet to teach my daughter of goodness—and the true meaning of riches. (Exits.)

LIVINGSTONE: That was nobly done, Paul. Now, my friends, since all is prepared for my marriage let us go down and let the ceremony proceed.

BADGER: But, where is Lucy?
PAUL: Lucy awaits downstairs. Don’t you know that it is bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?

LIVINGSTONE: Come, let us proceed—I mean to claim the delicate hand of my love—Miss Lucy Fairweather—soon to be Mrs. Lucy Livingstone.


ALL start toward the exit to the ceremony. But they turn and are soon joined by the ENTIRE CAST. LUCY is wearing a wedding dress. DUF enters.


DUF: Alms. Alms for poor ol’ beggar Duf.

BADGER: Come, sir. Take this money (Hands DUF some folded bills) and join us in celebration.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: We’d be honored if you would join our wedding party, Duffy.

DUF: Thank you, ma’am. But, it ain’t Duffy—it’s just plain Duf.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: What kind of name is Duf, I wonder?

DUF: Don’t know, ma’am. I was raised by pirates—until I escaped. It’s the only name I ever knowed. (Displays his medal on a chain around his neck.) See this is the patron saint of sailors, Brigid of Ireland, and on the back is my name. See—D-U-F, Duf.

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Bless us and save us! That doesn’t say Duf. Them’s your initials, boy—Daniel Ulysses Fairweather—our long lost son—kidnapped by pirates! See. (Showing him her medal.) I have a medal just like that, and so does Paul and Lucy, your brother and sister.

DUF: Mother?

PAUL & LUCY: Brother?

MRS. FAIRWEATHER: Bless us and save us, son. My prayers have been answered. (ALL embrace.)

BADGER: Oh, joy! Oh, Joy! (To MRS. FAIRWEATHER.) You have seen the dark side of life—you can appreciate your fortune, for you have learned the value of wealth.
MRS. FAIRWEATHER: No, we have learned the value of poverty. (She gives her hand to BADGER.) It opens the heart.

PAUL: (To audience.) Is this true? Have the sufferings we have depicted touched your hearts, and caused a tear of sympathy to fill your eyes? If so, extend to us your hands.

DUF: (To audience.) No, not to us—but when you leave this place, as you return to your homes, should you see some poor creatures, extend your hands to them, and the blessings that will follow you on your way will be the most grateful tribute you can pay to the poor—not just the poor of New York—but the poor of America. (Extends his hand.) A penny, please. (A beat.) Everybody, please join us in song and celebration—

AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL
Words by Katharine Lee Bates,
Melody by Samuel Ward

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!


This goes into a MEDLEY of songs sung earlier. When the MEDLEY ends, the SOUNDS and the LIGHTING of fireworks explodes across the stage.

LIGHTING dims to BLACKOUT

END OF PLAY