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Updated 7/31/03
MORE MONOLOGS FOR OLDER MEN
(The times given
are informed guesses)
#11 (2:30 min.)
Adapted from THE MORGAN YARD © 2000 Kevin O’Morrison
(Summer, 1970. "The Morgan Yard" is a family graveyard on a Missouri Ozark mountain-top. Barry B, double amputee vet of the Korean War, Jess' father, and Carrie Morgan's only son, has inveigled Army Lt. Bonheur, Mayor Hesseltine and Jess, to bring him and his wheelchair to the graveyard under pretext of persuading his mother "to see reason" about surrendering the graveyard to the Army. He now reveals his real reason for coming up here)
BARRY B: Gather round me, all a you -
I want you to hear this. (beat) I come up here to be with Rosemary.
(he stares at the Lieutenant, then at the Mayor) That's it. I heard what you was all
aimin to do up here, so I come up here to be with Rosemary. Now so nobuddy don't need to get
hurt that don't have to - listen to me. I ain't much for words, so listen to what I'm tryin
to tell you. You're standin on ground where I made my first -- an' my last -- promises to
Rosemary. Between them promises - (he hunts for a seemly way to allude to his personal
misfortunes) - well, everbuddy has his own p'ticlar cross to bear, an - uh, the first
promise wed me an Rosemary forever. The last - when she lay dyin' an when I set her to rest up
here - I aim to keep now. It was a private promise. But like I said, I don't want nobuddy
to get hurt that don't have to, so I'll tell you what it is: I promised Rosemary I'd lay beside
her up here when my time come. (takes pistol from inside his shirt and waves it with
point) I aint aimin to let nobuddy break that promise. Not you, Mr. Mayor. Nor you, son.
Nor you, Mama. Nor the US Army. I'm obliged if you're follerin me, Lieutenant. Now, I know
I promised y'all to try to persuade Mama to see reason. I just didn't say whose reason I'd
try to make her see. An if the Lord was listenin to my lie, he was listenin to a man was
marched all the way to the Yalu River an then told he'd been lied to. I trampled down other
men's harvest land because somebody lied to me. (he jabs the air above his stumps of
legs) I had both my feet hacked off an never got to walk my own harvest land, an my
Rosemary was worked to her grave - because somebody lied to me. For twenty years doctors
been hackin their way up me --- because I was lied to. They've hacked on me till they've
run out of me to hack on. Now I ain't cried to nobuddy about that, so don't nobuddy cry
to me about bein misled. Y'all've butted your heads into a mortal business.
(he is calmer now, his control coming back) I promised Rosemary. If I die down to
the hospital - an I will if I don't die up here - on account a you all an your plans,
I cain't guarantee my promise. I got to go to Rosemary, got to be released. Like the gospel
song - for once, I got to see my life come shinin. (motions with the pistol) So just
turn around an march down the hill the way you came. All a you. An that way nobuddy
gets hurt.
#12 (1:12-20 min.)
Adapted from THE MUTILATORS © 2000 Kevin O'Morrison
(415 B.C., Athens. A street, early hours of morning before Embarkation for The Invasion of Syracuse. City is full of roistering soldiers, rumors, superstition, and anger. Cleobis, 45-50, an opportunist, one who will always survive, hurrying from the Agora (The City Center) where he has just witnessed a bloody public suicide, collides with Andromachus, a Charm Vendor)
CLEOBIS: (hurries on, head down,
muttering) What a night, what a night - two carion-crows land on Zeus' head in the Market
Place tonight - and began to tear each other. And - and - (collides with Andromachus)
What! What! (recognizes him: relieved) Oh, god - Andromachus! Thought I was about to
be mugged. Or maybe attacked by demons. Don't laugh - I've believed in demons since about
five minutes ago - (indignant) Why're you wasting time in a residential street, why
aren't you peddling your charms where they'll do some good - in the Agora? Wait'll you hear
what I just saw - blood! All over The Altar of the Twelve Gods. The Market Place is full of
people - going crazy. (shakes head) Didymus The Archer. ("tsk, tsk") Had to
see it to believe it - roaring drunk. Cursing the invasion. Top of his lungs. Woke up people
for half a mile around. Tried to quiet him down but he was waving his sword like a mad man.
Suddenly - he leaped up on the altar and bashed his nuts to a pulp with the butt of his sword.
Then he plunged it into his belly. (shudders) Blood all over the place. Melos, he said.
Said - he yelled! (mock sigh) Ah, yes. Melos. When will we ever hear the end of Melos.
As if it was the first time we ever killed hostages. "The gods are turning our swords inward,"
he yelled. And all the time pounding his nuts. Speaking of which - better get going. Man
pounds off his nuts - where d'you think? (winks) Whore house. Use 'em while you
got 'em, I always say. 'Bye, Andromachus. (he goes)
#13 (2:10 min.)
Adapted from THE MUTILATORS © 2000 Kevin O'Morrison
(415 B.C., Athens. just before dawn. Pisander, the new Commander of The Home Guard has just discovered that all the faces of the images [Herms] which guard every Athenian house that can afford one, have been mutilated. In panic he has rushed to the house of ANDROCLES, 45-50, his mentor, to tell him what has happened and that to maintain order he is about to call out The Guard)
ANDROCLES: Call out the Guard - are
you out of your mind? You make a show of force and the mobs will tear you to pieces!
The Guardian of their City has been defaced, man! Have you ever seen an overheated wine jar
explode? Fear is hotter and more explosive than wine - if you bottle it up. And every man
running through those streets out there will believe that the gods are attacking him -
personally. Bottle that up and they'll destroy you. (tensely, he eyes his young protege,
and makes up his mind) My boy, I am going to teach you how to pick up the weapons of
power. Listen closely, for we haven't much time. At this moment, everyone in this district
will be discovering the mutilation of his own family Herm. Soon they will be moiling their way
through the streets to the Market Place. As they meet themselves - coming from the four
quarters of the city - they will realize for the first time how general is their misfortune.
Panic will seize them. At that moment, - you shall meet them. In dress uniform. Flanked by
your Personal Guard. Not to head them off, but calmly, with authority, to go in pursuit of
their desires. Which desires, you will suggest to them. Call for a Special Committee of
Inquiry. Demand that it be given exceptional, emergency powers. You, of course, will be
elected to that committee. Then make certain that someone else is chosen to head it up.
(he smiles and holds up a hand to arrest any protest fromPisander) The criminals will
not be found overnight, Pisander. Give someone else the chance to fail - while you
are merely zealous in the public interest. After the Committee is chosen, summon the Senate.
You haven't the authority, personally, to do that (again he smiles) but you will have
the authority of the mob in the Market Place. No one will question that authority and live.
Now as to your Committee - (decides quickly) - Menippus - Polystratus -- Charicles --
and let's add - Critias. And - Meletus. That gives us a small, representative Committee.
Now for the serious work. The Assembly will want action. We shall have to give them
activity, instead. As first order of business, see that your Committee offers a reward for
information - say a thousand drachmae. That will buy you time. Then when the Assembly
and Senate are about to adjourn, you, personally, will decree a reward of ten thousand
drachmae. (winks) From the public treasury, of course. Won't produce any spectacular
results, but the public is impressed by large sums, and it will make you
a public hero.
#14 (2:30 min.)
Adapted from A PARTY FOR LOVERS © 2000 Kevin O'Morrison
(Vito Vitale's Master Bedroom in a NYC'S East Fifties brownstone, first Saturday in May, 1973. Vito and his son, MANO, operate a Landmark bar-restaurant. It is early morning after Vito's 83RD birthday party. MANO, middle-aged, tries to tell his soon-to-be brother-in-law - what it's like to live with Vito)
MANO: Eccentric, my ass - you don't
have to live with Pop, listen to that "Hypocrite" stuff of his every day. With him, anybody
disagrees with him, he's (imitates) "Hypocrite!" (beat) It's not what he says,
so much, it's - it's like take an old 8-track cassette, right? You play it, all 8 tracks are
goin' by your Playback, but your Playback is pickin' up only one track - the other 7 are there,
on the tape, passin' by - but your Playback's not pickin' them up right now. Okay? Now make
that 1100 tracks - they pass Pop's Playback (taps forehead) the same time, but you're
listenin' to his Program Number One. Got that? Now somethin' jiggles his Playback, the
Playback jumps - you're smack in the middle of Program 60. Jiggle it again, Program 1094. 83
years old, he never forgot nothin' since the day he was born. I wait on him hand and foot,
I got no waiters' union like the boys work for me. I'm under him 24 hours a day. And never
right, he thinks he's God! With him, a restaurant's a circus, a show - dresses up in wizard's
costume, sultan costume - shhhheee! An' that ain't all that's nutty around here, phone calls
monitored like I'm a goddam kid! 53 years old, the only time I ever talk to a girl he doesn't
listen in, I'm in London - World War II. Shheee! But it ain't even the phone! Take Millie -
I bring Millie from England in '45. We're 28 years under his roof, raise an' bury his first
grandchild - he still treats Millie like a goddam foreigner. You know why - Millie's English,
an' when he was in England, 1912, the English snooted him. Take my brother, Fano - 41, a wife,
2 kids. Let his firm send him to Milan - why? To get out from under. Once, twice a year now,
he has to kiss Pop's ass - like he'll phone today, from Milan, right on time. Sis Rita, too,
from Lugano. To keep up their franchise, stay in the will. But except like that, they're
home free. I'm in the pressure cooker. So why don't I leave him - (an odd wistfulness
comes over him) - We have a saying in Italian - (he scans Italian rapidly to
himself) Ah! "An important word makes a place in the mouth for the heart." "Genitore" -
there's no word in English for it: "Father", "Male Parent", psssh! Can't get your jaw
into 'em. "Genitore" - try it. GEN - NIH - TOH -RRRAY! That's a proper word for what gives
you life! (beat) And that mean, miserable, crazy old goat in the Wizard's hat -
(he says this now with an odd kind of pride) - is my Genitore.
#15 (1:45 min.)
Adapted from A BLANKET FOR JANOS © 2000 Kevin O'Morrison
(Budapest, Winter, 1956, Hotel Suite
of SOVIET GENERAL VAROV, 55. In Moscow, Premiere Malenkov has been deposed, and Varov's
incognito visit to Budapest has made the local government officials nervous. The Desk Clerk
has just informed him that a group of them are on their way up to his room from the lobby to
pay him a surprise, early morning visit. Standing in the debris of last night's partying,
he is not yet fully awake)
VAROV: (on phone) Government
Ministers? On their way up? Good God - (bangs down phone) - the Gold Braided
Handshaking Platoon couldn't wait! (goes to door, takes it off the latch, returns, takes
tunic off chair back and hastily buttons it up) What a mess! And what a head I've got!
Well, nothing for it but to face them. (turns to face door with best diplomatic charm)
Come in, gentlemen, come in! (as he starts toward them, he falls to his knees like a
pole-axed steer. Choking, he tears open his tunic collar and slaps the floor with the flat
of his free hand, gasping for air - and staring balefully at the Incoming Ministers)
You -- think -- I'm - drunk -- don't you? Don't deny it, you vegetables! With your
bureaucratic faces! You think I'm drunk. (gulps air) Well, let me tell you something --
drunk or sober -- or on all fours - I can - out-think - and out-fight -- those whom I must.
(as suddenly as it hit him, his seizure passes. Bracing his hands on one thigh, he forces
himself to his feet) My apologies for that outburst, gentlemen. (all charm, now)
My heart and I are engaged in a mortal contest. Occasionally I get beaten to my knees. And,
gentlemen, when one is on all fours facing imminent extinction, and forced to look up at those
who are not - the temptation to the tongue is enormous. (wry) Your Military Attache in
Moscow tells his friends that my seizures are a kind of Slavic mourning for the Revolution I
can no longer defend from horseback. That is his clever, Hungarian way of flattering
me for a Romantic - while telling the world that I am, perhaps, after all, passé. Well!
Now that you've honored me with this - this - unexpected visit, and before we get to the
formalities of introductions, let me honor you with a drink or two of brandy. Perhaps with
enough brandy in us - and the aid of dark glasses - we shall find the glare from all the
gold braid more endurable, eh, gentlemen? A drink or two will give us all a chance to know
each other a little - before the rituals of State separate us.
#16 (1:45 min.)
Adapted from A PARTY FOR LOVERS © 2000 Kevin O'Morrison
(Vito Vitale's Master Bedroom in a NYC'S East Fifties brownstone, three storeys above The Landmark Bar-Restaurant Vito runs with his son, Mano. It is early morning. first Saturday in May, 1973, the day after Vito's 83rd birthday. VITO comes straight out of yoga meditation to rail at the encroaching world outside his windows)
VITO: Vandals! Destroyers!
Hypocrite Real Estate Developers! Tear up West Fortyeight' Street, I move "Vito's Place"
West Fifty Second Street. Tear up West Fifty Second Street, I move "Vito's Place" East
Fifty Five Street. How many time you think can make happen new "Vito's Place"! A restaurant
is not just "own it" - to give life, must make happen! Last night I am 83!
disgust) Why I tell you this, you not care. Nobody care! You think Vito old -
can not defend self. (rises in rage) I show! (beat) But what I do?
What best for family. (addresses books in bookshelf respectfully, as if each is the
author, himself) Signor Croce. Signor Leakey. Signor Russell. Signor Zeno. Signor
Shapley. Signor Shaw. (he dips his head to them in respectful bow) You tell
world how is. Tell me: what I do? (holds up restraining hand)
Do not tell me do what can not do. When I am boy in Sabbia - this is where I am born,
in Lombardia, Italia - I have nothing. Not little - nothing! Hunger is in belly
there can never be food for - see something, anything, I want! I want, I
get! I get - (dismay) - can not let go. (earnest) You
understand? Have family - am same man - (appeals to books again) - can not let
go... Is more than just - "be reasonable". I know self. I let go one thing -
(reaches for way to say it) - is -- like pull thread in sweater. (he has the word,
now) - Unravel! No use to anybody. Die, even. Sometime - think die not so bad -
(waves hand in sudden scorn at thought) I am man! Cannot abdicate. Have
obligation. (beat) Oh, I tell you - each day I live he is one son of a bitch!
Return to My Home Page
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Or Other Monologs
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