The Jazz Singer
Date: 2022-03-08T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: New York (N.Y.) -- Drama; Jewish singers -- Drama; Fathers and sons -- Drama; Cantors (Judaism) -- Drama; Jewish families -- Drama

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Jazz Singer

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Title: The Jazz Singer

Author: Samson Raphaelson

Release date: March 8, 2022 [eBook #67583]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Original publication: United States: Brentano's, 1925

Credits: Ronald Grenier (This file was produced from images generously made available by the Hathi Trust)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE JAZZ SINGER ***

Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

THE JAZZ SINGER

BY

SAMSON RAPHAELSON

(Based on his story, “The Day of Atonement,” in Everybody’s Magazine, January, 1922.)

NEW YORK
BRENTANO’S
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1925, by
SAMSON RAPHAELSON

All rights, including stage, motion picture, and amateur production, are reserved. No performance or public reading may be given without the written consent of the author, or his recognized agents. Application should be made to the author, in care of his publishers.

Printed in the United States of America

To
Albert Lewis
A gentleman from the East Side and a scholar from Broadway

FOREWORD

I wish to express my gratitude to Albert Lewis, who directed and produced “The Jazz Singer” and who, in the long hours of many days and nights, gave values to the play and stage wisdom to me which I hope never to forget; to Stuart Sherman, who encouraged me when my faith lagged; and to the members of the cast, especially George Jessel and Sam Jaffe, for the many happy touches they have contributed.

Samson Raphaelson.

PREFACE

American life, in this year 1925, consists essentially of surfaces. You may point out New England communities and say here is depth, and I will answer, true, but New England is dead so far as the America of now is concerned. You may show me an integrity in the West where a century ago pioneers came, and I will answer, that integrity resides with the elders and not with the mightier young ones. He who wishes to picture today’s America must do it kaleidoscopically; he must show you a vivid contrast of surfaces, raucous, sentimental, egoistical, vulgar, ineffably busy—surfaces whirling in a dance which sometimes is a dance to Aphrodite and more frequently a dance to Jehovah.

In seeking a symbol of the vital chaos of America’s soul, I find no more adequate one than jazz. Here you have the rhythm of frenzy staggering against a symphonic background—a background composed of lewdness, heart’s delight, soul-racked madness, monumental boldness, exquisite humility, but principally prayer.

I hear jazz, and I am given a vision of cathedrals and temples collapsing and, silhouetted against the setting sun, a solitary figure, a lost soul, dancing grotesquely on the ruins.... Thus do I see the jazz singer.

Jazz is prayer. It is too passionate to be anything else. It is prayer distorted, sick, unconscious of its destination. The singer of jazz is what Matthew Arnold said of the Jew, “lost between two worlds, one dead, the other powerless to be born.” In this, my first play, I have tried to crystallize the ironic truth that one of the Americas of 1925—that one which packs to overflowing our cabarets, musical revues and dance halls—is praying with a fervor as intense as that of the America which goes sedately to church and synagogue. The jazz American is different from the dancing dervish, from the Zulu medicine man, from the negro evangelist only in that he doesn’t know he is praying.

I have used a Jewish youth as my protagonist because the Jews are determining the nature and scope of jazz more than any other race—more than the negroes, from whom they have stolen jazz and given it a new color and meaning. Jazz is Irving Berlin, Al Jolson, George Gershwin, Sophie Tucker. These are Jews with their roots in the synagogue. And these are expressing in evangelical terms the nature of our chaos today.

You find the soul of a people in the songs they sing. You find the meaning of the songs in the souls of the minstrels who create and interpret them. In “The Jazz Singer” I have attempted an exploration of the soul of one of these minstrels.

Samson Raphaelson.

New York, October, 1925.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Cast of characters in the first production of “The Jazz Singer,” by Lewis and Gordon in association with Sam H. Harris at the Fulton Theatre, New York City, Sept. 15, 1925.

Cantor Rabinowitz | Mr. Howard Lang
Moey | Mr. George Shafer
Sara Rabinowitz | Miss Dorothy Raymond
Yudelson | Mr. Sam Jaffe
Jack Robin | Mr. George Jessel
Clarence Kahn | Mr. Robert Russel
Gene | Mr. Ted Athey
Eddie Carter | Mr. Barney Fagan
Harry Lee | Mr. Arthur Stewart Hull
Mary Dale | Miss Phoebe Foster
Randolph Dillings | Mr. Robert Hudson
Miss Glynn | Miss Mildred Leaf
Franklyn Forbes | Mr. Paul Byron
A Stage Doorman—Jimmy | Mr. Tony Kennedy
Levy | Mr. Nat Freyer

Six Chorus Girls

Misses Mildred Jay, Ruth Holden,
Eleanor Ryan, Mildred McDonough,
Viola Thomas, Betty Wilton, Rita Crane

A Scene Shifter | Mr. Jack Hill
Doctor O’Shaughnessy | Mr. Tony Kennedy

THE JAZZ SINGER

SYNOPSIS OF SCENES

ACT I—The home of the Cantor on the East Side. The 14th of August, afternoon.

ACT II

Scene 1—About a month later. Back-stage at the Fulton Theatre, New York.

Scene 2—A few minutes later. Jack’s dressing room.

ACT III—Same as Act I. A few hours later.

THE JAZZ SINGER

ACT ONE

Scene: It is the flat of Cantor Rabinowitz in the heart of the East Side of New York. We see a rather large living room with a curious mixture of furniture and crockery. The Cantor lives in better style than most of his neighbors. The furniture is massive, elaborate, of fine wood, the kind of furniture a wealthy Jew in Russia would be likely to have. Everywhere there are shelves loaded with bric-a-brac—china, glassware and silver.

There are two windows through which can be seen the stained glass windows of the synagogue next door. There is a phonograph, a sideboard, a settee, a bookcase, a Morris chair. On the wall are pictures, including one of an old-fashioned Russian Jew, one of the Cantor, one cheap chromo showing some kittens, and the framed citizen papers of the Cantor.

At rise: Before the curtain rises we hear a boyish treble sweetly singing an old Hebrew cantor tune. As the curtain rises, we see little Moey and the Cantor seated at the table. The Cantor is a lean man of medium height. He has a neatly trimmed, grayish beard and is wearing a skull-cap. His face is wrinkled, gentle, austere. He is a holy man among a humane people—and all which that implies. He knows the ways of kindliness, but the spirit in him is stern with following the God of Vengeance for sixty years.

Moey is singing.

Cantor

[Stops him]. No, no, no! Didn’t I tell you how you should sing it? Sing it with a sigh. Do you understand, my child? With a sigh! You are praying to God. Nu, try it again. [Moey tries again, and again is stopped by Cantor.] No—do you understand what it means, them words you are singing? What does “Vaanee Sefeelosee” mean?

Moey

It means, “I, my prayer.”

Cantor

And what means “Lecho Adoshem”?

Moey

That means, “To you, O God.”

Cantor

Good! And what does it mean, “Ais Rutzon Elohim”?

Moey

“When you are ready, O God.”

Cantor

That’s right. You’re a smart boy, Moey. Now what does it mean “Berov Chasdecho Aneni Be-emes Yishecho”?

Moey

[Hesitates]. I don’t know what that means.

Cantor

Is that nice? A smart boy like you what has the most beautiful voice in the choir? You will never learn to sing until you know what the words mean. Now, listen, Moey. This is what it means. “I offer my prayer to you, when you are ready, O God, with your multitudes of benedictions—answer me, O God, with truth, and help me.” Sing it again, Moey. [Moey begins to sing again. The Cantor rises, impatiently. He is irritated with Moey, yet he has forgotten the child. He speaks more to himself than to Moey.] No, no! Oh, I wish I had my Jakie here. He could show you how to sing it. The words he understood even when he was a little boy smaller than you. And a voice he had like an angel.

Moey

Why did Jakie run away from home?

Cantor

[Pause]. Who said.... Where did you heard that?

Moey

Gee, everybody knows that ... all the boys in the choir....

Cantor

Sometimes little boys know too much, Moey. Sometimes little boys think they know more than their papas.

Moey

[Rises]. I’m hungry. Can I go home now, Cantor? My mama told me to come home early tonight for supper.

Cantor

You shouldn’t speak from supper, Moey, when we are speaking from God.

Moey

Can I help it? I’m hungry.

Cantor

[Craftily]. In the kitchen we got nice cookies.

Moey

Cookies? What kind?

Cantor

With raisins in them.

Moey

Oh, I like them. Can I have some?

Cantor

Certainly, my child, but sing first.

[Moey picks up the prayer book and sings the melody conscientiously and beautifully. He sings it straight through to the end. There is a quality of plaintiveness in this rendition which pleases the Cantor. As Moey is singing, Sara enters from the kitchen, a small brass chopping bowl in her hand. She pauses until the boy finishes. Sara is a small woman, thin, tense, with large, vivid black eyes and gray hair parted neatly and drawn back in a knot. She wears an apron over a black and white dotted voile dress. The Cantor speaks with delight.]

Cantor

Ain’t that beautiful, Sara?

Sara

It’s very nice the way you sing, Moey. I’m going to tell your mama what a good boy you are.

Moey

You bet I am. Can I have some of your raisin cookies, Mrs. Rabinowitz?

Sara

Raisin cookies?

Cantor

I promised Moey he could have some if he sang nice.

Sara

They ain’t ready yet.

Cantor

Well, you come back in an hour, Moey. Then they’ll be ready.

Sara

Yes, go my child. I’ll keep a whole lot of cookies warm for you.

Moey

[Takes prayer boot]. Thank you, Mrs. Rabinowitz.

Sara

You’re welcome. Give my love to your mama.

Moey

[Moves to door]. Thank you. Goodbye. I won’t eat much at home. [He goes.]

Cantor

He’s a willing boy, Sara, and it’s a pleasure to hear him singing in the choir. And his papa, peace be with him, was a rabbi. Maybe from Moey I can make yet a Cantor.... Yes.... [Sits.] From him I will make a great Cantor.

Sara

[Casually, with a prosaic little sigh]. It seems like yesterday our Jakie was standing the same way—a little boy—a darling—and you was learning him to sing.

Cantor

Sara, I asked you a thousand times, don’t speak his name in my house. You know what it does to me.

Sara

I heard you from the kitchen—you spoke it yourself to Moey.

Cantor

Well, Moey and me—we was singing and—well, I made a mistake.

Sara

A mistake? A papa should speak from his only son one time in five years—that’s a mistake?

Cantor

It’s so long since I found a boy with a voice like Moey.... I forgot myself.

Sara

Our Jakie had a voice even more beautifuller—even before he ran away—

Cantor

Sara, please—it ain’t good that we should think too much about that boy. He didn’t think of us.... God knows if he’s maybe now in jail or not.

Sara

How can you speak like this from your only child? I tell you he’s a good boy and he ain’t in jail. In the last letter he wrote, he said....

Cantor

I don’t want to know from his letters.

Sara

But he’s got a good steady job. In Chicago.

Cantor

What’s the matter with you today? Maybe you could forget what he done. I can’t.... [Until now the mood has been conversational, although strong emotions have been strumming underneath. Now the Cantor rises, and his voice betrays the intensity of his feeling.] The Day of Atonement.... A crowded synagogue.... So proud we was! Why not? Everybody waiting to hear the Cantor’s son sing. And where was he?... You said he would come back. It’s already five years now.... Where is he?

Sara

I can’t help it the way I talk, Yosele. I feel lonely every day for our Jakie.

Cantor

And you think I don’t! Please, don’t speak no more.

Sara

All right, all right. I won’t speak no more.... But he’s got a steady job. He’s making money.

Cantor

[Bitterly]. Money! Money! That’s all they know. A little less money and more God would be better.

Sara

Please, Yosele, you shouldn’t excite yourself.

Cantor

[Mutters]. The memory of that boy is shortening my life.

Sara

Don’t speak like that. Go lay down a little bit. You’ll feel better. Take a rest. [Cantor rises wearily, obediently.] Please don’t be mad, Yosele. I won’t talk no more of Jakie. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.

Cantor

[Pats her on the shoulder]. All right, all right. I’ll go in now and lay down for a while, and maybe then I’ll feel better. [At the door, with an attempt at his normal sweetness.] Don’t forget, you promised nice cookies for Moey. [He goes.]

Sara

[Moves toward the sideboard, when the telephone rings. She turns and moves toward the telephone saying “Hello” just before she reaches it. Then she picks up the receiver]. Hello ... who?... Oh, Mr. Adler. How do you do, Mr. Adler.... Yes, this is the Cantor’s wife.... How did you know it’s the Cantor’s birthday?... No, he don’t know it himself. We are making him a surprise! Oh, thank you, Mr. Adler. You should have the same!... The Cantor will be happy to know you remembered him.... Thank you.... Goodbye. [She hangs up the receiver. There is a knock on the door.] Come in.

Yudelson

[Comes in carrying a jug of wine, a praying shawl, a roast turkey wrapped in a napkin. Yudelson is a jeweler—an old friend of the family. He is about forty, has a small, close-cropped beard, and is seasonably dressed in a white linen suit and a Panama hat. He is hearty, good-natured, eager to please, but not exactly a subtle person.] Hello, hello, hello! Congratulations! Good luck!

Sara

Mr. Yudelson!

Yudelson

Well, it’s the Cantor’s birthday, so—

Sara

Sh! It’s a surprise. The Cantor is asleep.

Yudelson

[Lowers his voice]. Oh, a surprise!... So I says to myself, “Yudelson,” I says, “what should I give the Cantor that would be nicer than a roast turkey, a gallon of wine which my wife, Olov Hasholem, she made it five years before she died, and a genu-ine woolen praying shawl!”

Sara

A praying shawl! How did you know about the birthday?

Yudelson

How did I know! What’s the matter with you, am I crazy? The whole East Side remembers it.

Sara

[Takes turkey and wine into kitchen]. Sometimes I myself don’t remember. I ain’t a young woman no more, Mr. Yudelson. I got so much to do, I don’t realize that one day is Monday and all of a sudden it’s Friday and I have to prepare for the Sabbath. I’m surprised that I myself should remember the Cantor’s birthday. [She folds the praying shawl and puts it away.]

Yudelson

You think only downtown knows about it? Uptown knows about it too. Mr. Hymie Goldstein—if he’s worth a nickel, he’s worth a hundred thousand dollars, all in first mortgages too!—he came in my store today and he bought a gold watch. A new one. For cash. He bought it for the Cantor a present—I should live so! He’s coming here tonight.

Sara

[Pleased]. It’s nice he should remember the Cantor.... Lawyer Adler just telephoned me on the telephone. He’s coming too tonight.

Yudelson

Lawyer Adler! He’s already one of the big ones on Wall Street. Maybe you can get him he should fix us a new balcony for the synagogue.

Sara

[Moving about the house, getting dinner ready]. From Lawyer Adler we could get anything. The Cantor loves him and he loves the Cantor. They knew each other twenty years ago. What am I talking? It’s thirty years if it’s a day. The way time flies! It seems like yesterday I was a girl. [She goes out to get table cloth.]

Yudelson

I bet you the Cantor don’t even know it’s his birthday. [He sits down at table.]

Sara

[Enters with table cloth]. He never knows. Tell him this year, tell him last year, he don’t remember. But when it comes, and I remember—[She raises Yudelson’s hand as she spreads the cloth.] and his friends remember—oh, he loves it, believe me!

Yudelson

Did I told you what the Gershons are bringing the Cantor?

Sara

The Gershons?

Yudelson

You remember all the pictures which are hanging in the Committee Room of the synagogue—the pictures of the Cantor’s father and grandfather for four generations? Well, the Gershons made a hand painting from all the pictures—

Sara

A hand painting?

Yudelson

Yes, sir—with a fancy sign. It says on the sign: “Five Generations of Great Cantors, and the Fifth Is the Best.”

Sara

[Slowly]. Five generations of great Cantors.... That will make him think of Jakie.

Yudelson

That’s right.... Would you believe it—even now I’m afraid to speak to the Cantor about Jakie.... Oh, it’s too bad. It’s too bad Jakie can’t be here today, friends with his papa—to celebrate the birthday.

Sara

[Pause]. You know, a letter came last week. I think it’s from Jakie, because the Cantor didn’t want to open it.

Yudelson

A letter from Jakie? Nu, you didn’t heard from him for a long time.... Why don’t you open it?

Sara

I am afraid. I couldn’t tell you why, but I got a feeling in my heart that in the letter it wouldn’t be good news. And it’s the Cantor’s birthday.

Yudelson

Don’t be foolish, Mrs. Rabinowitz. I’ll bet you it’s A Number 1 good news. Give me the letter. I’ll read it.

Sara

Maybe the Cantor wouldn’t like it.

Yudelson

Come on, go ahead!

Sara

No, I can’t do it.

Yudelson

Mrs. Rabinowitz—on my responsibility I’ll open it. Tell me, where is the letter?

Sara

You shouldn’t open it—it’s on the top shelf. [Points.]

Yudelson

[Goes to sideboard]. I’ve opened already a thousand letters in my life. [Takes letters, looks at them.] No—that’s from the gas company.... This must be from Jakie. [Opens it quickly.] You think I should open it?—Well, all right. [He begins reading, mumbling to himself. Sara sits at table, Yudelson standing.]

Sara

If it’s bad news I don’t want to hear it. [Pause.] It’s bad news?

Yudelson

[To himself, painstakingly]. “Chicago, August 2nd. My dear mother: I am well and hope to hear the same from you.” [To Sara.] He says he is well, and give God to hear the same from you! [Mumbles to himself again.] “I am coming to New York.” [To Sara.] He says he is coming to New York. [To himself.] “On the fourteenth.” [To Sara.] On the fourteenth he’ll be here.

Sara

[Gets up excitedly and takes letter from Yudelson]. The fourteenth?—That’s today! Nu, what else? [Eagerly, with trembling hands she gives him back the letter.]

Yudelson

[Sits at table]. “My dear Mother—” No, I read this already. “I am earning a great deal of money.” [To Sara.] He says he is making plenty money. [Mumbles.] “And I am getting a fine position.” [To Sara.] He says he is getting a good job.

Sara

Does he say what kind of a job?

Yudelson

No, no.... “I send my love to you and to papa.” [To Sara.] He sends his love to you and papa.... [To himself.] “And the minute I arrive in the city,—” [To Sara.] And the minute he comes to the city, he says—[Looking at letter.] And the minute he comes to the city, he says—he says—“I will see you.” [To Sara.] He will see you! [To himself.] “From your son, who wishes you the best of everything, Jakie.” [To Sara.] From your son what wishes you what you wish yourself, Jakie! See, I knew it was good news. Wasn’t you foolish not to open it?

[There is a knock on door. Sara hides letter in her bosom, crosses to settee and sits. Yudelson goes to door.]

Yudelson

Come in.

Clarence

[Enters. He is a youth of about 21 and is impressively clad in a tight fitting, double-breasted blue coat, a pair of voluminous linen knickers, gaudy golf socks and loud sport shoes. He, as well as Yudelson, keeps his hat on, as is customary in orthodox households]. Hello, Mr. Yudelson!

Yudelson

Hello, Clarence!

Clarence

[Bowing to Mrs. Rabinowitz]. Hello, Mrs. Rabinowitz.

Yudelson

Say, what’s the matter? Ain’t you studying in City College this afternoon?

Clarence

I took the afternoon off. It’s the Cantor’s birthday, so I called a meeting of the choir—

Yudelson

Ssh! The Cantor’s asleep. It’s a surprise.

Clarence

[In a lowered voice]. And we all contributed toward a little gift. Mrs. Rabinowitz, will you present this to the Cantor with our best wishes for his continued happiness, peace, prosperity, longevity and the consistent and increasing use of his magnificent vocal cords! [Hands a package to Sara.]

Yudelson

Amen, amen, amen, amen!

Sara

[Rises, takes package]. Thank you, Clarence. The present I’ll give him, but all them words I can never say.... I don’t like to open the bundle, Clarence. Tell me, what is the present?

Clarence

I’ll show you, Mrs. Rabinowitz. [Takes package, opens it on the table.] According to our financial status, this is the most appropriate symbol of our esteem I could find. There you are! [It is a praying shawl!]

Sara

A praying shawl!

Yudelson

A praying shawl! Must have been a sale some place!

Sara

That’s very nice, Clarence. It was smart you should think of a praying shawl. [Cantor is heard humming off stage.] Ssh! I think the Cantor is coming. [Sara quickly takes the shawl and hides it somewhere on the sideboard. Clarence and Yudelson nervously move toward the door as the Cantor enters.]

Cantor

Yudelson.

Yudelson

Good evening, Cantor.

Cantor

Mr. Kahn.

Clarence

Good evening, Cantor!

Cantor

Well, you came to see me?

[They are confused, embarrassed, and fidget as they maneuver closer to the door.]

Yudelson

Well, you see, we was speaking of Clarence’s graduation, and—and—we just dropped in to say goodbye!

[They go out with ludicrous haste.]

Cantor

[Looks around, surprised]. Well, what’s the matter with them? What’s happening today, Sara? Why did they came?

Sara

Well, they—they came—You’ll soon find out, Yosele. Supper will be ready—then you’ll know.

Cantor

What will I know at supper?

Sara

Well, we’re going to have turkey ... and wine—

Cantor

Turkey! Today? It’s only Thursday. Not even Sabbath evening. What kind business is turkey in the middle of the week?... You are expecting company? [He pinches her cheek.]

Sara

[With blissful secretiveness]. Maybe! [Then she surrenders, her face aglow.] Don’t you know what day it is today?

Cantor

Thursday. What kind holiday is it?

Sara

Guess.

Cantor

Now, Sara, stop fooling with me. Soon Moey is coming back, and I want to practice with him a little bit more. Tell me.

Sara

[Kissing him]. It’s today your birthday, Yosele! the 14th day from August!

Cantor

[Surprised]. My birthday?

Sara

Sure!

Cantor

[Absently]. How old am I?

Sara

You’re sixty years old today.

Cantor

Ts—ts—ts—sixty years old. It couldn’t be!

Sara

[Kisses him again.] Yes, it is. And you should live, mine teure, to be a hundred and sixty and not miss one day in the synagogue! The turkey what I told you, that’s a present from Mr. Yudelson. And the jug of wine he brought! We’re making for you a surprise!

Cantor

Old friends is a good thing.

Sara

And what do you think? They brought you a beautiful praying shawl.

Cantor

Who?

Sara

Both of them! Mr. Yudelson.... [She crosses to the sideboard, gets the shawls and shows him.] And Clarence—he brought you a present from the whole choir.

Cantor

That’s nice, the boys should remember.

Sara

[Shows shawls]. This one is Clarence’s, and this one from Mr. Yudelson.

Cantor

Yudelson’s jewelry business must be making lots money, he should be able to give such nice presents.

Sara

[There is a pause. Then, wistfully]. Yosele—I—I didn’t get you no present this year.

Cantor

You don’t have to.

Sara

Well, the true is, I did. But I have to change it.

Cantor

Why?

Sara

Would you believe it—I got you a praying shawl, too!

[They laugh and embrace.]

Cantor

Now we’ve got enough praying shawls for twenty years.

Sara

You should wear them in good health, mine teure.

Cantor

Well, I’ll go out for a little while. [Exits, puts on hat, changes coat. Enters, humming.]

Sara

Where are you going, Yosele?

Cantor

I’m going to the synagogue.

Sara

Don’t stay long—everything is on the stove. Supper will soon be ready.

Cantor

[Goes to table, gets book]. That’s fine, Sara.... I will wear the one you gave me and we’ll save the others! [Kisses mazuzah and goes.]

[Sara listens, to be sure she hears his steps as he goes. Then she takes the letter from her bosom and kisses it. She reaches for a vase on a high shelf. From this vase she brings out a packet of letters bound with a ribbon. She unties the ribbon, places this last letter with the rest, ties it again and replaces the vase on the top shelf. As she is doing this a hand-organ is heard out in the street. It gradually gets louder. Sara moves to the sideboard, gets some pennies out of a glass, wraps the pennies in a piece of newspaper and raises the window. She throws the pennies out. The hand-organ stops, doubtless as its owner picks up the pennies, and then starts playing again. Sara goes into the kitchen. The stage is empty, with no sound but the gradually diminishing music of the hand-organ. There is a knock on the door, another knock, and then Jack enters. He is short, slender, dark. He is fashionably dressed in a well-fitting gray suit, a straw hat rakishly on his head. He carries a large pig-skin English bag and a stick. An engaging combination of wistfulness and impudence is a note of his personality as he looks about him carefully and, seeing no one, pauses, back to audience, to study the living room in the house from which he ran away five years ago. Then he crosses to the settee, where he rests his hand-bag. He places his hat and stick in a corner, moves over to the mirror and straightens his tie. As he turns, Sara enters from the kitchen. There is a dead silence as mother and son face each other. Then, thrilled, they suddenly meet in the middle of the room in one another’s arms. The following dialogue comes swiftly, quiveringly, tearful in its gladness.]

Jack

Mama! Mama! [He kisses her.]

Sara

Jakie, Jakie! My baby! My darling!

Jack

[Steps back—leads her to chair]. My, my, mama! Gee, it’s good to see you, Ma. You look wonderful.

Sara

[Sinks down in chair]. That I should live to see my Jakie again!... When did you come?

Jack

I just got off the train.

Sara

And the first thing you came to your mama!

Jack

Who else?

Sara

You’ll stay and have supper?... Hello, Jakie, how are you!

Jack

Say, Mama, did you miss me?

Sara

Such a question to ask your mama!

Jack

How is papa?

Sara

[Sighs]. Oh, he will be glad to see you.

Jack

How does he feel?

Sara

Healthy, thank God. Jakie, you’ll live here with us, no?

Jack

I’d love to, Ma, but I can’t. I wired for a room at the hotel. I have to see some people uptown on business.

Sara

[Rises]. Don’t be foolish. For business you can go uptown, and for eating you can come here and eat your mama’s cooking, and here you can sleep. I got your old bed just the way it was when you left and all your things is in your room the way you used to want them. [As she is saying this, Jack is patting her cheeks with his hand and interrupting her gaily, tenderly with “Yeh, yeh, Mama, yeh, yeh!” Sara moves to his suitcase.]

Jack

Here, what are you doing?

Sara

I want to put this in your room.

Jack

Don’t make yourself a baggage man, Mama.

Sara

I want to put everything away so you’ll know where they are.

Jack

If you put them away, Mama, I won’t know where anything is.

Sara

[Quaintly]. Well, I want to see what you got.

Jack

All right. I’ll open the bag for you. You see how hard it is to open, Ma? It’s an expensive bag. That’s genuine pigskin. Ah, there we are. [Brings out suit of pajamas.] See that? That’s pajamas. Two parts. In the winter you can wear them both. [Takes out dressing gown.] That’s a wrapper.

Sara

Wrapper?

Jack

Yeh, a wrapper for a gentleman.

Sara

[Takes out leather case]. Oh, what a big pocketbook!

Jack

That’s a picture.

Sara

A picture from you?

Jack

No—I know how I look. What do I want of my picture?

Sara

[Opening it]. Who is this?

Jack

That’s a girl who did some wonderful things for me. How do you like such a tie, Mama? [He takes gaudy ties from suitcase.]

Sara

It’s a beautiful girl.... She lives in that house?

Jack

She lives there in the summer time. [Takes out military brushes. He wants to change the subject.] See, these are military brushes!

Sara

It’s a big house, Jakie, for only one girl. She’s got a husband, no?

Jack

Not yet, Mama. Look at these shirts. They’re silk!

Sara

Only a big house and a dog she’s got? What does she do all the time in the big house?

Jack

She was born in the big house, Mama. Then she came to New York and studied for the opera. But you know how it is in the opera. If a girl don’t weigh more than two hundred pounds they don’t want her. Now she’s a big star in musical comedy.

Sara

Ain’t that a shame! Such a nice girl, too! And who lives in this house?

Jack

The dog!

Sara

That’s a nice house.

Jack

It’s a nice dog! [Jack takes the picture from her and places it back in the bag.] Now, Mama, I got something that I brought home only for you. It’s a surprise. Close your eyes, Mama. Close your eyes and keep quiet and count.... Don’t say anything.

Sara

[Closes her eyes.] How can I count if I don’t say anything?

Jack

[Takes jewelry box out of his vest pocket and pins brooch on her dress. Kneels in front of her]. Count to yourself. One, two, three, four, five, six, ninety, a dollar ten, a dollar twenty. Stop when you get to three dollars.... Now, open your eyes and look downstairs and see what’s going on!

Sara

[Looks at brooch]. Diamonds! with stones in it!

Jack

Sure—certainly!

Sara

Real diamonds?

Jack

If they’re not, Mama, somebody played me a dirty trick.

Sara

Jakie, where did you get so much money?

Jack

Don’t worry about money, Ma. I got lots more where that came from.

Sara

[Worried]. You didn’t do any wrong, did you, Jakie?

Jack

No, Mama.

Sara

But what kind job could a young boy have that he should have so much money?

Jack

Don’t worry, it’s all right, Ma. I didn’t kill anybody, and I’m not selling real estate in Florida.

Sara

[There is a pause. Then she turns gravely to her son]. Jakie, tell me—why did you run away that time?... Why didn’t you tell us?...

Jack

We’ll talk about all that later, Ma.... I want to look over the old place, see what’s been going on for the last five years. My, but you’ve improved the old homestead! There it is; everything spick and span, eh? Just like it always was.

Sara

Jakie, you don’t get the headaches any more?

Jack

No, Mama, I feel fine. I must weigh at least eight hundred pounds. Oh, look, there’s Uncle Eli. [Points to picture.] He’s still mad! My, look at that vase. It’s grown up! I remember it when it was a little cup. And you’ve got a phonograph, too. I knew you were saving all those soap wrappers for something. Um—so many new things—Oh, oh, I see a change. [Points to picture above phonograph.] Didn’t there used to be a picture of me there?

Sara

[Quickly]. Yes, Jakie—we don’t have it no more. It fell down and got broke—

Jack

Well, well, well. First it was me, and now it’s pussy-cats! [Moves to window.] But the synagogue—that’s still in the same place.

Sara

[Joins him]. Sure, it’s in the same place, Jakie.

Jack

Do you know, Mama, it’s a funny thing. It looks so small to me now—and when I was away on the road it used to seem so large—especially the windows.... And now they look so small.... I remember that little window away up in the corner—see the little blue window? Hm—I’ll never forget, one day I was playing baseball. Hymie Cohen was pitching. I hit a ball—it was a home run—and psst! went that window away up in the corner.

Sara

I’ll never forget how much it cost to fix it.

Jack

Well, we won’t talk about that. Can you still hear the services when the window is open?

Sara

Yes, Jakie.

Jack

[Turns to phonograph]. This is nice, Mama. Does it play, too?

Sara

Sure it plays. It played last week.

Jack

Well, well, let’s see what kind of records you have. Um—Il Trovatore, Pagliacci. You’re coming up in the world. Red Seal. That’s a buck and a half. You haven’t got “Red Hot Mama,” have you?

Sara

Red Hot Mama, what’s that?

Jack

No home is complete without a red hot mama. If you had a piano in the house, I’d show you.

Sara

Sure, we’ve got a piano—since last year. Your papa uses it to teach the choir. It’s in the front room.

Jack

Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay! A piano! You’ve been holding out on me. What’s been going on for the last five years? The first thing you know, you’ll be going to afternoon teas and dancing the Charleston.

Sara

Go on, Jakie, I wouldn’t do that!

Jack

That’s the way they all start, Mama. What kind of a piano have you got—grand or upright?

Sara

I don’t know. We pay every month.

Jack

Then you’ve got an upright! Let’s go and see. [They go out together.]

[From offstage is heard the rippling of some chords on the piano. Then Jack’s voice breaks out in the words of “Red Hot Mama.” He sings it with that rich plaintiveness which, combined with syncopation, has become the convention for the rendition of jazz. Half-way through the chorus the center door opens and the Cantor enters. He stands rooted to the floor, outraged at the sounds he hears. He looks toward the door of the music room, then, as if afraid of what he might see there, moves back automatically, taking his hat off, leaving the skull-cap on his head. Then, beginning to realize that this blasphemous noise really is occurring in his own home, he slams his prayer book down on the table and moves toward the music room. Jack who has finished the chorus and is about to play it again, has yielded to his mother’s audible shocked protests. They come out of the music room, not seeing the Cantor. Jack, who is facing his mother, walks out almost backward. Sara is saying—]

Sara

No, no, Jakie! You shouldn’t sing like that! It is wrong!

Jack

You’ll get used to it, Mama, and you’ll like it if you’ll learn the words. I know a million songs like that. [Then Jack turns, sees the Cantor, and suddenly the bravado, the glibness, the flippant smartness with which he has been buoying himself up, drop from him like a cloak. It is a feeble echo of the Jack we have seen who now addresses his father.] Well, well! Hello, Papa.

Cantor

[Slowly]. What are you doing in this house?

Jack

What am I doing? Didn’t you expect me? I wrote you I was coming.

Sara

He said, “Hello, Papa.” It’s your son, Jakie.

Cantor

I didn’t even open your letter. Why did you come—to play loafer songs on my piano?

Jack

No—I came home, Papa—I came home because I’ve been away for five years, and I’ve made good, and I wanted to let you know about it.

Cantor

For five years you didn’t need your papa. You don’t need him now.

Sara

Yosele, please!

Cantor

You have no shame after what you did to us? You come into my house, you sit down by my piano, and you curse it with your dirty music from the sidewalks.

Sara

No, Yosele. It was my fault. I wanted he should see the new piano.

Jack

[Gently, with quiet dignity]. Wait a minute, Mama. I don’t think you know how I feel now, Papa. I thought about you a thousand times when I was away. The first place I came when I got off the train was home. I didn’t mean any harm when I played the piano. I just wanted to sing Mama a jazz song....

Cantor

Jazz! A song of prayer wouldn’t come into your head, only jazz. Even when you was a little boy, I taught you to sing to please God, but you sang to please yourself. One minute you were singing in the synagogue and the next minute singing in the street. You’re the same now.

Jack

[Eagerly. He does not realize how far from home he has traveled in five years. For this instant he really thinks that he understands what is hurting his father—that he can explain it in a few words]. You’re right, Papa. I am the same. You did teach me to sing songs of prayer. And I sang them here for you. But when I got out on the street with the other kids, I found myself singing the same songs they sang. And they’re very much alike,—our songs—and the street songs. Well, listen—[He sings “Ain Kelohenu,” a Hebrew prayer tune. He sings four bars of it, swiftly, with feeling. And then, suddenly, to exactly the same tune and with exactly the same plaintiveness but with a new rhythm and shaking his shoulders, he sings a popular song.]

“Nothing ever hurries me,
Nothing ever worries me,
Easy come,
Easy go,
It’s all the same to me!”

I just got them mixed, Papa—See?

[This does not have quite the effect which Jack innocently had hoped for. The Cantor, shocked, has sunk into the settee. Sara, frantic in her eagerness to avert the swiftly impending disaster, is fluttering between Jack and his father. She is too excited to know what she is saying.]

Sara

Jakie, where did you learn to sing like that?

Jack

[Not precisely a diplomat, strong in his own sense of righteousness]. Where did I learn to sing like that? From Papa—who else? He taught me to sing. You forget that I’m an American boy, and Papa is from the Old World. If he were born here, like I was, he would probably be singing jazz, too.

Cantor

[Rising toweringly above Jack]. You shouldn’t speak like this from a Cantor—do you hear? God will punish you! He will take vengeance!

Sara

Look, Yosele, supper is ready, and our son is home. Come, we should eat and be happy now. Talking can be later. It’s your birthday. Jakie, it’s today your Papa is sixty years old.

Jack

Don’t I know it? The 14th of August—that’s why I’ve been so anxious to get home today. I’ve been picturing this home-coming for a long time. I figured now I’m doing all right, and it’s been a long time, so I’ll go home. I thought you’d be so glad to see me.

Sara

We are glad, Jakie. I’m so happy. I’m crying with happiness.

Jack

Yeh, and Papa, he’s happy, too. [He crosses to settee—gets package from bag.] To show you I haven’t forgotten, I brought you a birthday present, Papa. The finest praying shawl I could get. [Moves to table.] And I’ll make you a little speech like I did when I was a little boy. Many happy returns of the day, Cantor Rabinowitz!

Sara

[Pleading]. Look, Yosele.

Cantor

[Looks straight ahead. His voice is numb]. Thank you.

Sara

[Eagerly]. Oh, Yosele, this is like I dreamed lots of times!... A praying shawl.... That’s just what your Papa needed!... This is a fine piece of goods, Jakie.

Jack

You bet it is. As soon as I found out that Tom Brady had imported these from Palestine, I said right away, I got to get one for my old man—my papa.

[The Cantor does not move.]

Sara

[At a loss for something to say]. Tom Brady?

Jack

You never heard of Tom Brady? He makes the most beautiful costumes for the stage.

Cantor

[Slowly turning to Jack]. The stage? What do you mean, the stage? Theatre? Are you in the theatre business?

Jack

Sure, Papa. I’m an actor. Jack Robin—that’s me.

Cantor

An actor! An actor in the theatre! You tell this to me—who comes from a family of five great Cantors! And after all my plans that you should be a Cantor, too! And now you take this singing that is holy to me and make it common!

Jack

What’s wrong with being an actor? I meet nice people—I make good money.

Cantor

[Furiously]. Money, money, money! Pickpockets make money, too!

Jack

Aw, don’t say that—don’t talk like that.

Sara

Yosele, please!

Cantor

If there must be actors, let there be, but not a son of mine. Not a Rabinowitz! Their work has been laid out for them by God.

Sara

[Almost hysterically]. Where are you going to act, Jakie? Downtown here?

Jack

No, Mama. I’m going to act uptown. In English.

Cantor

What kind English acting are you doing uptown?

Jack

[Responding to his mother’s mute appeal]. Come on, Pa, let’s celebrate your birthday, and then some other time I’ll talk about my work.

Sara

Come, Yosele, look. See the diamonds what Jakie brought me. Ain’t that nice? For a mama diamonds, and for a papa a praying shawl. Yosele, he’s got in the satchel so many nice things. [She moves toward the bag.]

Jack

Now, please, Mama, he doesn’t want to see that.

Cantor

I’m asking you—what kind English acting you are doing uptown?

Sara

[Takes out prayer book]. Oh, see, Yosele! He’s still got his little ivory prayer book what you gave him when he was confirmed.

Jack

It’s a funny thing about that prayer book, Ma. When I was traveling on the road, I bet I left a million things behind, but I always carried that.

Sara

See, Yosele, he didn’t forget he’s a son from a Cantor.

Cantor

What kind English acting are you doing uptown?

Jack

Papa, it’ll take some time to explain. It’s hard to tell you in a few words. Can’t we wait until after a while—

Cantor

It ain’t hard I should tell you the work I’m doing. I sing to God. I pray. It ain’t hard to tell the kind work your mama is doing. She is a Cantor’s wife. She worships the Almighty. She knows the sorrows what has come to the descendants from Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, to the children of Israel. She is living to be a good wife of a Cantor.... Once she wanted to be a mother of a Cantor, too, but she found this couldn’t be. It ain’t hard for us to tell you the kind of lives we are living. What kind of life are you living?

Jack

[Exasperated]. I told you. I’m an actor. I sing. Just like you sing. Only I sing in a theatre.

Cantor

[Fearfully]. What kind singing?

Jack

Didn’t you hear me? I sing jazz songs. Ragtime.

Cantor

[Stunned]. Mama, did you heard what he said?

Sara

Jakie, you are fooling!

Jack

You’re right, Ma. I fool, too. I’m a comedian. I get all dressed up in funny clothes. I sing funny songs and make people laugh. They pay money to come and hear me. They’re going to pay big money soon. Right now, Mama, I’ve got a big job with one of the biggest producers in New York City, with a show called “The April Follies.” And if I make good, I’ll get a big salary, and you’ll be proud of me—you’ll see.

Cantor

A joke maker! A jazz singer! Oh, my God in Heaven! Does it mean nothing that Rabinowitz is the name of great Cantors? Does it mean nothing that there is a God?... You are no son of mine. I never want to see you again.

Jack

[Hopelessly]. All right, all right. [Moves to settee, begins to pack his bag.]

Sara

Jakie, tell him you are sorry. Tell him you are ashamed.

Jack

Ashamed—what have I got to be ashamed of? Shall I tell him I’m ashamed because I worked like a slave to get my big opportunity? Did I come home broke? Did I ask for anything? No. I came home because it looks like I’m going to be successful, and I wanted to share it with you.

Cantor

I don’t want to share anything with you! Go back to your sidewalks!

Jack

[As he packs his bag]. All right, all right. You’re not giving me a chance, that’s all. Why do you think I came home? I came home because I want to have your love again—that’s why. I came home because I thought I could bring together all the things in my life that are dear to me, that made me happy from the time when I was a little kid till now—singing and playing in the streets—the East Side—shooting craps—baseball—my mama—my papa—the synagogue,—and now my work in the theatre.

Cantor

Don’t you mention the word synagogue in this house again!

Sara

Yosele, couldn’t you listen to him? Couldn’t you see he is trying to tell you something?

Cantor

To such words if I listen God will burn me with lightning. Better I should be dead than my son should holler unholy words in my ears! Get out! Out from my house! You loafer from the sidewalks! You tramp! You bum! You actor in a theatre!... You jazz singer! [He is seized by a fit of coughing, and he sinks into a chair. Sara hastens to his side.]

Sara

Jakie! The water! From the sideboard! [Jack goes quickly to sideboard, pours a glass of water and brings it over.] Yosele, you shouldn’t excite yourself so. Look, Jakie, see how white your Papa’s face is. [Takes glass of water from Jack.] Here, Yosele, drink it slow. Jakie, my son, come, tell him you are sorry. Tell him you are ashamed.

Jack

How can I, Mama? If I can’t be proud of being a jazz singer, then I can’t be proud of anything. It’s all I’ve got, Mama, it’s all I am. [Gets hat, stick and bag, then pauses.] Well, there won’t be any more arguments around here on my account, I’ll tell you that. I was away for five years—I can stay away longer. I’m sorry if I did anything to make you feel so bad, Papa. But you can make up your mind to this. I’m a young fellow, and I’m going to live my life in my own way. I’m not going to stay down here and sing prayers that don’t mean anything to me any more. Maybe I could do it when I was a kid, but I’m not going to do it now. I’m never going to do it. That’s all. [To Sara in lower voice.] Well, I’m going to the hotel. I’ll call you up as soon as I get settled. [Goes to door.] Goodbye, Mama. [Sara indicates Cantor sitting, broken, by the table.] Goodbye, Papa.... I’m very sorry—I’m very sorry that you just—don’t understand. [He goes.]

Sara

[Touches Cantor on shoulder]. He’s gone, Yosele. Our Jakie is gone.

Cantor

[Without moving, head sunk on chest]. Did you heard how he sang? The same sighs, the same tears I taught him in the synagogue—that I put in his voice he should sing to God—now he uses them to sing in his jazz music. [His hand on the table encounters the praying shawl which Jack brought.] A fine birthday present I got. My son brought it to me. A praying shawl from Palestine, from the dirty hands of a loafer.

[He rise.] Burn it! [He moves toward the settee.] Put it in the stove and burn it!

Sara

[Goes to him]. Oh, Yosele, you are breaking my heart when you speak like this! And I tried to be so happy on your birthday!

Cantor

[Stares at her incredulously]. Happy—happy? You are happy? You look in my face and tell me happy you are?

Sara

[With a tragic attempt to smile]. Sure! Look at me, ain’t my face smiling? [Sits beside Cantor.] Why shouldn’t I be happy? Ain’t it today you are sixty years old?

Cantor

[Doesn’t seem to hear; mutters]. A surprise—that’s a fine surprise I got....

Sara

[Proudly]. Ain’t it you are mine man—my Cantor?

Cantor

Sara, my dear one, you are a good wife, and you were a good mother. You don’t deserve such a son.

[Faintly from the hallway is heard a boyish voice singing “Red Hot Mama.” Neither the Cantor nor Sara hear it as yet. Sara continues.]

Sara

All right, all right. Forget all your troubles tonight. Lawyer Adler from uptown—he is coming at eight o’clock. The Luryas and the Goldsteins are coming too,—with automobiles. Your birthday—

[The Cantor now hears the singing, which is coming closer. He raises his hand. His face is suddenly the face of a corpse, as the door opens and Moey enters, blithely singing, “Every time I look at you, I want to hotter Hot Tamales.” He sees the Cantor, stops his singing, says, “Good evening, Cantor,” and then moves—a well-fed little boy—to the chair by the table, as the curtain falls.]

ACT TWO

SCENE 1

Scene 1: The stage of the Fulton Theatre, during the morning hours just preceding the afternoon dress rehearsal of “April Follies.”

At rise: The curtain rises on a disorderly stage where a song and comedy “number” is being rehearsed. We are looking at the stage from the back—that is, we see directly into the footlights and into an empty auditorium.

Stage hands are working, shifting scenery back and forth; electricians are placing lamps and experimenting with lighting effects. As the curtain rises we hear the banging of a piano. We see a chorus in practice clothes. We see Carter dancing.

In the back, at the footlights, Lee, the producer, sits in a tilted chair, a manuscript in his hand. Grouped between Lee and the chorus, on either side of Carter, are Gene, Miss Glynn, Mary Dale, Jimmy and another actor. Seated in the shadowy foreground, playing cards with a stage-hand, is Jack Robin.

Most of the action in this scene is paced very swiftly. It gives the effect of the hurried disorder which is characteristic of the eleventh hour of a theatrical production. The action is almost frantic—one speech piles on top of another so that you can scarcely follow it. It is not necessary that you follow it. The picture is enough. It is only at certain moments—moments when the story of the play enters with its deeper note—that the action is slow, that characters begin to come into focus—such moments as when Jack and Mary are alone, when Jack is alone with Lee, etc.

Lee

That’s all right! Is everybody concerned in the Dixie scene here?

Gene

Everybody concerned in the Dixie scene stand by.

Lee

[A tall, stout man, meticulously dressed. He has a black mustache—probably dyed—and scant, grayish hair on an impressive bald head. Adversity sent him to the theatre, where he made money. Money sent him to Europe, where he achieved good clothes and an air of distinction. He never allows his air of distinction to interfere with efficiency, however; and, on the other hand, no matter how intense the excitement and confusion of the rehearsal, he never takes his coat off. He rises]. Now, remember—this is the finale of the first act and I want lots of pep. Speak out so that everybody can hear you. This is the last time we do this scene before the Dress Rehearsal, so get it right. All ready? Let’s go.

Carter

[He is gray-haired. He has large, wistful, cynical eyes. He has a droll, rolling, weary mouth. Once he was a great comedian. Today, while still well-known, he is relying on formula—and is speeding, without realizing it, into oblivion. Reads from part]. “Mr. Carruthers, I’m from headquarters and I tell you that Gus, your colored porter, is none other than Dixie Dan, the Bootlegger.” [Turns to Detective. Speaks.] “Is that right?”

Detective

“That’s right, chief.”

Carter

“And what’s more, he has been very disrespectful to your daughter, Gwendolyn.”

Gene

[He is the stage manager and one of the actors. He is a big, fat man in shirt sleeves, with the stub of a cigar in his mouth]. “Gwendolyn, come here!”

Mary

[She is bob-haired, slim and lovely. Five years ago she was a flapper. Four years ago she was a debutante. Three years ago she ran away and entered the chorus of the Metropolitan. Two years ago she had a minor rôle in musical comedy. Now she has the feminine lead. She is democratic, ironical, fastidious, informal, subtle and hearty]. “Yes, father.”

Gene

“Did you know that Gus is a bootlegger?”

Mary

“Father, don’t believe a word he says. It’s too bad Mr. Gus isn’t here to defend himself.”

Gene

“Where is Gus the porter? Has any one seen him? Where can he be?”

Miss Glynn

“Look! Here he comes now.”

[In typical musical comedy fashion every one stagily steps one foot to the right and points with outstretched arm to the right. There is the typical musical comedy hush which announces the entrance of a principal.]

All

“Ah”!

Lee

Where is Jack?... Robin! That’s your cue. Come on!

[There is a moment of confused silence and then Jack, coming out of his absorption in the card game, rises hastily, apologetically. He turns for a second to the stage-hand.]

Jack

Spade—spade—spade! You lose! [Now he hastens to the center of the scene. With an apologetic word to Mr. Lee he turns to his script.] Now, where are we?

Gene

“Gus, where’ve you been?”

Jack

“I’ve been down to my father’s farm where we have a black hen that lays a white egg.”

Carter

“What’s so wonderful about that?”

Jack

“You go home and try it!”

Carter

That’s the cue for my Poppy number, isn’t it, Mr. Lee?

Lee

No, Carter, I’ve changed my mind about that. I’ve decided to let Jack do that Poppy number in the second act.

Carter

Now, Mr. Lee, that’s the best number I got. That’s where I do my specialty.

Jack

Yes, Mr. Lee, I think you should let Carter keep that number. I’ve got enough to do now.

Lee

[Impatiently]. That’s all right, Jack. I know that. Why do you think I postponed the opening? In order to give you more to do. You can carry this number, too. Now continue the scene and go right into the Dixie Number.

Jack

I’m sorry, Eddie.... Where were we? Oh, yes, sir. “I’m going down South again to the land of cotton and jasmine, where the watermelons grow, where I can be with my mammy. If you’ll all sit down, I’ll sing you a song all about it.”

[The girls all sink down in a wide semi-circle. The other principals back away. The piano beats out the “vamp.” Jack, his back to us, facing his own footlights, his shoulders shaking, his hat carelessly on the back of his head, goes into his jazz song. He does not do it earnestly, except for an occasional note on which he lingers with the easy assurance of the man who knows that when the time comes he will do it well. He sings.]

“Home pa-hals, home pa-hals,
Sad was the day when I blundered away
From my Home pals;
Wan-dered—
Squ-handered—

My mammy’s lo-hove without any ru-heason or ru-hyme

To have

A wo-hunderful time....”

[Lee blows his whistle and stops the singing.]

Lee

I’ve got an idea. We won’t use this stage again until the dress rehearsal. Gene, send the girls up on the roof. [In less time than it takes to tell, the chorus girls have been shooed off the stage. Carter and the rest move back to an obscure part of the stage. Lee brings Jack down where we can hear clearly what they say. Mary comes with them. During the following conversation a drop comes down. It is the back of a country scene—you gather from the lights which play around its translucent surfaces that it represents a wisteria-hung house front.] Now, Jack, there’s a big kick in the Mammy number. I want you to do it alone with no one on the stage. Just you and the spot light. Cut out the running around and put your heart into it. Give it all you’ve got. If you do it that way, you’ll be a knockout.

Mary

That’ll be wonderful, Jack.

Jack

[Not quite casually]. Do you think so?

Mary

[To Lee]. Harry, they just brought my last act costume and it’s nothing like the sketch.

Lee

Let me see it, Mary.

Mary

All right. [She goes.]

Carter

[He has been lingering, ill at ease and resentful, in the back]. Mr. Lee, I want to see you.

Lee

Well, Carter, what’s on your mind? Make it snappy.

Carter

All right, I’ll make it snappy. What’s the big idea cutting my numbers down? Half the house tonight is going to be my personal friends. What do you think they’re going to say about your show tomorrow on Broadway?

Jack

[Comes between Lee and Carter. He is disturbed. Something is troubling him. It must be something more serious than his words reveal]. Mr. Lee, I think you ought to let Carter keep that Poppy number. He’s an old song-and-dance man and that’s more in his line.

Lee

What’s the matter, Jack, losing your nerve?

Jack

It isn’t my nerve, Mr. Lee. It’s just the success of your show I’m thinking about.

Lee

Let me worry about the success of my show, Jack. Don’t you want the opportunity I’m giving you?

Jack

I think it’s great, Mr. Lee, but—

Lee

[Interrupts brusquely]. All right, then. [Turns to Gene.] Gene, tell O’Hara to send that little Glynn girl here at once.

Gene

Yes, sir. [He goes.] O’Hara, send that Glynn girl here. Mr. Lee wants to see her at once.

[Carter and Jack sit on trunk facing up stage. Gene returns, sits at table.]

Carter

[Mutters]. I haven’t had anything like this happen to me in over forty years. I’m going to quit.

Jack

[Pity for the old man swiftly welling up in him, yet realizing that nothing can be done, casts about for a jest with which to salve the other’s pain]. Look here, Eddie, you’re not going to quit on the night I’m making my debutt.

Carter

Debutt?

Jack

Well, if that ain’t right, you can sue me! Now listen, Eddie. You just wait until after the opening tonight and you’ll probably have all your numbers back and maybe some of mine. [He rises.] Come here, Eddie. I wrote a new scene for us.

[Carter, pathetically grateful for the respect and affection this implies, moves back, out of the scene, with Jack. Miss Glynn comes in. She is blond, pretty. She is in the rompers which chorus girls use as practice clothes. As she moves toward Mr. Lee she is obviously frightened.]

Miss Glynn

Mr. Lee, did you want me?

Lee

Yes, Miss Glynn. I’ve been watching your work in the finale this morning, and it’s very bad. Didn’t you tell me you were an experienced Spanish dancer when I hired you?

Miss Glynn

[Trembling]. Yes, sir.

Lee

Well, you’re not. I don’t believe you ever had any stage experience in your life. You dance like a school girl. Now answer my question. Did you do any professional work before?

Miss Glynn

N—no—B—but I thought—

Lee

I don’t care what you thought. Did you or didn’t you tell me you were in the “Follies”?

Jack

[He has been listening to them while chatting with Carter, and now moves down]. Excuse me, Mr. Lee. Could I see you just a minute?... Don’t blame this kid. Anything she slipped over on you was my fault. She—well I saw her in the waiting room—and she looked kind of bashful, poor kid—so I told her to tell you she had been in the “Follies.” I know you and Ziegfeld aren’t talking, so you’d never find out!

Lee

Well, I’ll be damned!

Jack

[A master of the tempo of kidding, he moves hastily toward the stricken Miss Glynn and whispers to her. Her face lights up as she runs off the stage happily. Crescendo, Jack turns to Lee]. That’s all right, Mr. Lee. She forgives you! She isn’t mad at you at all! [Jack doubles up with a grimace of mock humility, and Lee succumbs. He laughs.]

Lee

You better not let Miss Dale catch you doing favors for little girls.

[Jack grins and strolls across the stage, watching the electrician who is playing with lighting effects.]

Mary

[Comes in and goes to Lee by the table. She has a sheet of paper which she places before him]. Harry, here’s the sketch—

Jimmy

[Enters]. Mr. Lee, Mr. Randolph Dillings just phoned and told me to tell you he was coming here this afternoon.

Lee

Thank you, Jimmy. [Jimmy goes. Lee rises, and the act settles into a slower pace; for the “atmosphere” is over. Lee speaks half to himself.] That’s too bad.

Mary

Is Randy still bothering you about Jack?

Lee

Yes. The last time he was down he wanted me to let Jack go.

Mary

Why?

Lee

You.

Mary

I don’t understand.

Lee

He’s jealous.

Mary

But he hasn’t even met Jack. He didn’t say anything to me about it.

Lee

Of course he wouldn’t—to you.

Mary

That’s perfectly childish of him.

Lee

[He has been half absorbed during this dialogue with papers on the table. He picks them up and mumbles]. Yes, I suppose it is. [He goes off.]

[Jack, who has been standing back-stage chatting with some girls, is now heard laughing and joking with them. They are called away and Jack comes down to Mary who is sitting on a trunk.]

Mary

Well, you seem to be happy, Jack. I was afraid you’d be nervous on your opening night.

Jack

Me happy? I feel like I’ve been elected mayor and can’t find the City Hall. Mary, if any one gave me an unkind look, I’d lie down on the floor and cry.

Mary

Is there anything wrong, Jack? Is something worrying you?

Jack

You’re worrying me.

Mary

I?

Jack

[Slowly]. I can’t get over the feeling that if I don’t make good tonight, you’re going to be the goat. You and Mr. Lee. You’ve done everything for me— the two of you. So far, I haven’t done a thing in return.... I ain’t even thinking about what it would mean to me deep down here—[He touches his heart.]—if I flop. But then, that’s my business and nobody else’s.... The way things are now, though.... Gee, if I don’t make good with you—and with Lee—I’ll feel like hell.

Mary

Is that all that’s worrying you? Why, Jack, how silly you are! You’re going to be a sensational success, don’t you realize that? And everybody’s going to be proud of you.

Jack

[Slowly]. Not everybody. I know somebody who won’t be proud of me.

Mary

[Intuitively]. You mean—your people?... I’ve often wondered why you never mentioned your people to me.

Jack

Well, I—I quarreled with them.

Mary

Where are they?

Jack

They’re far away. [He rises from trunk.] Oh, it’s no use to talk about it.

Mary

I’m sorry.

Jack

[Turns to her]. The point is, my people had other plans for me.... They—they’d sooner I was a criminal than be on the stage....

Mary

Well, I guess a lot of stage people have the same sort of problem you have.

Jack

My father and mother are different. I’m the only son, and they ... had other ideas about me.... I ran away from home.... They don’t think I’ll ever be any good.

Mary

Oh, my dear, serious young man, there’s nothing terrible in that.

Jack

You don’t know my father and mother, Mary.

Mary

Jack, there’s nothing as selfish as the selfishness of parents. Do you think my people liked the idea of my being on the stage? Mother threatened to have a nervous collapse. Father was frantic. But I did what I wanted, and they both got over it. And now they brag about me to the rest of the family.

Jack

Well, my father ain’t ever going to brag about me, I can tell you that!

[There is a deepening cloud on his face as he moves away from Mary. He has almost forgotten the excitement of the dress rehearsal. Lee and Franklyn Forbes enter briskly. Forbes is snappily dressed, about 30. The two of them bring back the speed and exuberance of the theatre.]

Lee

Here they are! Jack, you know Franklyn Forbes, our publicity man?

Jack

How are you, Mr. Forbes?

Lee

Franklyn wants to do a story on you in a hurry.

Forbes

First of all, I want to get the story of your life.

Jack

[Turns upon them in a curious mood—sardonic and humble, flippant and bitter]. Say I was born when I was very young. When I was a year old I sold newspapers. By the time I was two I owned the stand.

Lee

Come on, Jack. Franklyn’s in a hurry.

Forbes

Stop your kidding, Mr. Robin. I can get some real stuff into the papers about the way you put over a jazz song.

Jack

What has the story of my life got to do with the way I put over a jazz song?

Mary

Everything, Jack. If it’s the right kind of a story. [To Lee.] You know how Jack puts over a song. That intensity of his. Something like the intensity of Billy Sunday. It’s a new note.

Forbes

Yes, and if I can weave a colorful life story behind it—based just a little on fact—

Jack

All right. I’ll tell you. Say that every morning at eight o’clock I take a bath in certified milk.

Lee

Don’t waste any time kidding, Jack. Give Franklyn a general outline of your life—where you were born, your parents, and so on.

Jack

I—I’m sorry, Mr. Lee, but I’m kinda sensitive about my childhood. Not that I’ve been in jail or anything like that. But why doesn’t Mr. Forbes fake a story—I don’t care what he says—it’ll be O. K. with me.

Forbes

Fine! I think I’ll have the usual East Side back-ground—hanging around with the gang—singing waiter in a Bowery dive—pious old father—

Jack

I—I don’t think that East Side stuff is so good.

Forbes

I do. It always makes fine human interest material.

Jack

[Obstinately]. Well, I don’t think so.

Lee

We can’t waste any more time on this. Write anything you want to, Franklyn.

Jack

Now, please.... I don’t want you to think I am swell-headed.... I appreciate the fact that you are all trying to help me. But look—isn’t there enough in that Chicago stuff without going back to my cradle days?

Lee

That’s not a bad idea. Franklyn, why don’t you use the story of how Miss Dale discovered Jack?

Mary

I’ll tell it to you, Franklyn. I was playing in Chicago—

Forbes

[Takes out pad and pencil, sits at table]. You were playing in Chicago?

Mary

I had a half hour to kill one day, and I dropped into one of those West Madison Street movie houses, and there he was.

Jack

This won’t be any good either—

Lee

Why?

Jack

Because after the opening night I’ll probably go back to Chicago—by freight. And the old gang at the movie house will give me the laugh. They’ll say, “Here he is—the great Jack Robin from Broadway! Hurray! Catch a broom and sweep out the place!”

Forbes

What movie house was it, Miss Dale?

Mary

I don’t know. What house was it, Jack?

Jack

Oh, a funny little place under an elevated station—called The Happy Hour.

Forbes

What were you doing there?

Jack

I was looking at Mary.

Mary

Jack was standing in a spotlight—dressed in such clothes....

Jack

You ought to see the suit I had, Mr. Lee, for eighteen fifty, with nine pair of pants!

Mary

And he was singing, “Take Me Back to Tennessee.” I never heard jazz sung quite like that before. There was a tear in it. I came every day that week. Jack did all sorts of things, comic songs, Mammy songs, sold candy up and down the aisle, announced next week’s program—about fourteen times a day.

Jack

Yeh, and I checked baby carriages, too! I did everything in that joint except collect the money. They wouldn’t let me do that.

Mary

Well, you know the rest, Franklyn.

Forbes

[Rises]. Thanks very much, Mr. Robin. You gave me more stuff for a good story than you thought you did. So long, Miss Dale. See you in your office, Mr. Lee. [He goes.]

Lee

Come on, Jack. We’ve got a lot of work to do.

Jack

Mary, do you want to come along with us?

Mary

I’d love to, Jack, but I have to telephone Dad.

Lee

Give my regards to your father, Mary.

Mary

Thanks, I will. [She goes.]

Jack

Mr. Lee, I took the liberty of writing a new gag in. It’s a good hot weather gag I’m going to pull with Carter. I say to Carter, “Now that the days are getting longer, I’m going into the ice business, so that when it gets too hot to work I can sit down on my business, and—”....

Gene

[Enters]. Mr. Robin, that tailor just brought your suit. He wants you to try it on.

Jack

That funny suit for the last act with the little hat?

Gene

Yes.

Jack

I want to see that. [To Lee.] Excuse me.

[He goes. Lee is at the table sorting out some manuscripts when Randolph Dillings enters. Dillings is about 30, well tailored, poised, healthy looking. He is clearly a person of wealth and breeding—a man whose only weakness, perhaps, is that he does not know what he wants and is not intently concerned with finding out.]

Lee

Hello, Randy.

Dillings

Hello, Harry.

Lee

Come to see the rehearsal?

Dillings

No, I came to see you. Can we go to your office?

Lee

The office is full of people. We can talk here. What’s on your mind?

Dillings

This jazz singer of yours, Jack Robin, and Mary’s interest in him.

Lee

I thought we settled that a month ago.

Dillings

I’m afraid we didn’t. I’ve been thinking it over, and I’ve decided to take my money out of your show.

Lee

I don’t get you, Randy. You know it isn’t very businesslike of you to come here at the last moment like this and—

Dillings

This wasn’t a business arrangement in the first place—and you know it. I think you know that Mary and I were once engaged to be married. You must realize that the only reason I put my money into this show was to protect her interests. She means a great deal to me....

Lee

Her interests are the same today as they were a month ago. The fact that she has discovered Jack and made me engage him does not alter anything.

Dillings

[Quietly, without malice]. Well, I’ve learned differently. The thing I was afraid of has happened. It was bound to happen sooner or later, I suppose—an attachment of this sort.... Now, I’m no stage-door Johnny. I have my limit, and I’ve reached it. Today I wash my hands of all responsibility for Mary’s career. Be a good fellow and don’t let’s argue the matter any more. Simply mail me a check today.

Lee

You’re not taking him seriously, are you? Why, he’s just a harmless kid—eager to get along—

Dillings

[Patiently]. You’re taking him seriously enough to prefer him to my money, aren’t you?

Lee

[Pause]. Yes, I am.

Dillings

And Mary is taking him seriously enough to risk the gossip of her friends, isn’t she?

Lee

Yes, but—

Dillings

I haven’t a thing against the boy. I wouldn’t know him if I saw him. But it’s clear he’s not Mary’s sort. And if she’s traveling in that direction, she’s going to travel without me.

Lee

[He has made a decision; calls suddenly]. Gene!

Gene

[Enters]. Yes, sir?

Lee

Get Miss Dale.

[Gene goes.]

Dillings

Here! I won’t have any of that. No scenes, please.

Lee

[With grim, vulgar efficiency]. We’re going to have it out right now. I’m going to prove to you that Jack Robin doesn’t mean anything in Mary Dale’s life.

Dillings

I won’t have Mary Dale brought into this discussion.

Lee

If I can prove to you that this boy doesn’t mean anything to Mary, will you leave things as they are?

Mary

[Enters]. Hello, Randolph.

Dillings

[Nervously]. Hello, Mary. Just dropped in for a moment. I must be running along.

Lee

[A direct man if not a subtle one]. Just a moment, Mary. Randy here thinks you are seriously in love with Jack Robin, and because of that he’s taking his money out of this show.

Mary

You gentlemen take my breath away with your—shall I say, delicacy? It’s very sweet of you to discuss me so intimately.

Dillings

[Furious]. See here, Harry, this isn’t the sort of thing—

Lee

The point is this—I told Randy that Jack doesn’t mean anything to you—except, of course—

Mary

Except what?

Dillings

Really, this is becoming intolerable. I’m going.

Mary

[Half amused, half indignant]. Just a minute, Randy. I know you too well not to understand that you’re acting, as usual, on principle. And I know Harry too well to mind his blunt ways. Apparently what you both want me to say is that Jack Robin doesn’t mean anything at all to me and that I shan’t see him after this except as one sees a fellow performer.

Lee

[With a hearty sigh of relief]. Exactly!

Mary

Well, I can’t say it. I like Jack tremendously and expect to see more of him than ever.

Dillings

I’m sorry this has happened.

Mary

Harry, does this mean that you’re going to be in a terrible fix for money?

Lee

I’m always in a terrible fix for money. But I’m going to put this show through with what I’ve got if it breaks me.

Mary

Harry—you’re a darling.

Lee

No—just a business man.

[Jack is heard singing and talking off-stage.]

Mary

There’s Jack now. Do you want to meet him? Jack! Yoo-hoo!

Dillings

No.

[But Jack is already entering—in comedy costume.]

Jack

How do you like these clothes, Mr. Lee? Don’t you think I look just like a manager? How’s this “Between the Acts”? [Shows a huge comedy cigar.] Long acts.

Mary

Jack, I want you to meet Mr. Randolph Dillings. Randy, this is Mr. Jack Robin.

Jack

[Cordially]. How are you, Mr. Dillings?

Dillings

[Coldly]. How do you do?

[There is a pause.]

Jack

Beautiful day for the opening of the new show, isn’t it? [There is a dead silence. It is not that Dillings wishes to snub Jack, but that he is furious and confused at the situation he has been forced into, and he does not quite know what to say. Jack turns to Mary and murmurs out of the corner of his mouth.] What’s the matter with this guy? [Pause—to Dillings.] I say, it’s a beautiful day.

Mary

[Mischievously]. Yes, Jack, it is a beautiful day.

Jack

Thank God, THAT’S settled! [There is another silence, then Jack turns, good-humoredly, to Dillings. He is like a healthy puppy wishing to make friends.] I feel that I have known you a long time, Mr. Dillings. Mary has spoken of you very often and any friend of Mary’s is a friend of mine....

Dillings

[To Mary]. Well, I must be going. Goodbye, Mary.

[Jack realizes clearly now that he has been snubbed. With a hurt expression he backs out of the scene and sits on the trunk.]

Lee

Will I see you again, Randy?

Dillings

I’m sorry—I’m afraid I won’t have time to see you again, Harry.

Lee

[Also snubbed]. Very well. [He goes.]

Mary

Goodbye, Randy.... I know you don’t mean to be like this.

[Dillings pauses a second, then he bows stiffly, turns, and, ignoring Jack, goes. After he has passed, Jack in solemn mockery tips his hat.]

Jack

[To Mary]. That’s that Randolph Dillings, isn’t it? I don’t think he likes me. Maybe he thinks I wear these clothes on the street.

Mary

He’s an old friend of mine. Fearfully rich and awfully nice, but old-fashioned.

Jack

Is he in the show business?

Mary

He was.

Jack

Smart enough to get out, huh?... He’s stuck on you, ain’t he?

Mary

We were engaged once.

Jack

Yeh.... Any time you see a guy act like that, you know he’s in love. Well, there’s one thing I’ll say about him, he’s got good taste.

Mary

Do you think so?

Jack

[Moves closer to Mary. She is still sitting on the trunk. All of the flippancy has left him. He is suddenly shy and very earnest]. Yeh.... You know, if I make one-half the hit tonight that Lee expects me to make—if I go over half as big as everybody thinks I will—do you know what I’d like to do? I’d like to come over close to you, like this, and tell you ... that I love you.

[Jimmy enters.]

Jimmy

Mr. Robin.

Jack

That guy picks the darndest time to come in!

Jimmy

There’s a man out there asking for a Jakie Robin. His name is—[Reads from card.]—Yudelson, Dealer in Diamonds and Jewelry. Do you know who it is?

Jack

Yudelson? It can’t be. [Yudelson enters.] Well, well, well, Yudelson! What are you doing here?... He’s all right, Jimmy.

[Jimmy goes.]

Yudelson

Well, well, Jakele, what a big boy you are! I never would have known you. What a trouble I had with him! First I asked for Jakie Rabinowitz. I forgot your Mama told me to ask for Jakie Robin.

Jack

My Mama? What’s the matter with Mama?

Yudelson

She’s all right. She told me to ask you—she asked I should say to you—[He is obviously uncomfortable in the presence of Mary.] I must see you in person.

Jack

[Looks around, sees Mary]. Oh, Mary ... I I want you to meet Mr. Yudelson. This is Miss Mary Dale.

Mary

How do you do?

Yudelson

How do you do. [Looks at Jack as he shakes her hand.] A pleasure!

Jack

Mr. Yudelson is an old friend of the family. He’s known me since I was so high. [Measures with hand.] He and my father are great friends.

Yudelson

Cantor Rabinowitz and me, we are like this. [Puts two fingers together.]

Jack

[There is a pause. Yudelson has revealed significant detail. Mary’s involuntary expression of surprise shows this. Jack, for an instant, is confused. Then, with pride in his voice]. Yeh, my Father is the finest Cantor on the East Side.

Yudelson

Did you never heard of Cantor Rabinowitz of the Orchard Street Synagogue? I’m surprised!

Mary

[The warm, friendly smile on her face is her answer—her fraternal declaration—to Yudelson and to Jack]. Well I’ll run along. See you later, Jack. Goodbye, Mr. Yudelson. It was a pleasure to have met you.

Yudelson

By me it’s all right, too!

[Mary goes.]

Jack

[His arm about Yudelson’s shoulder, they move over to the table. Yudelson sits in the chair and Jack lounges on the table leaning on his elbow]. Well, Yudelson, I’m glad to see you. Sit down. What brings you up in this neighborhood?

Yudelson

Jakie, I came to tell you your papa is sick.

Jack

[Site up straight]. What’s the matter with him? Has he got a good doctor?

Yudelson

The best doctor in New York. Dr. O’Shaughnessy from the Rockenfeller Institute.... Jakie, my boy, tonight starts the Day of Atonement—Yom Kippur—and this is the first time in your papa’s life what he wouldn’t be able to sing in the synagogue on Yom Kippur. So we had a meeting from the committee, who should sing in his place. Well, I was speaking to your mama, and she thought it would be a beautiful surprise for your papa if you would do it.

Jack

Me to sing? My God, Yudelson, he kicked me out of the house only a month ago.

Yudelson

Don’t be foolish, Jakie. How much times was you kicked out—one time? A son could be kicked out twenty times, and yet a son is a son. If your papa knew you was singing tonight, it would make him happy.

Jack

But, Yudelson, I can’t do it!

Yudelson

Nonsense. I was telling the committee—you know how it is a committee—they wanted Levy, the Shamus, should sing. But I’m the chairman, and they all owe me money, so when they voted it was the way your mama wanted. I told them, “Jakie, when he was a little boy and he sang in the choir, his papa learned him all the words of all the prayers. And what a little boy learns he never forgets....” And even if maybe a few words you should forget, you can look in the prayer book. Jakie, you can do it! I got confidence in you! And your mama—she’ll be the happiest—

Jack

But, Yudelson, this show opens tonight!

Yudelson

What’s the matter with you, Jakie? Ain’t I telling you your papa is sick and your mama is waiting I should give her an answer?

Jack

[Slowly]. Yudelson, the show business is different from anything else. The finest actors keep right on working, even if there’s a death in the family. The show must go on.... It’s like a religion.... It’s like soldiers in an army....

Lee

[Enters with Jimmy]. Now remember, Jimmy, I don’t want any strangers on the stage during dress rehearsal. [Jimmy goes.] Jack! I want to see you.

Jack

Excuse me, this is Mr. Lee—my boss. Mr. Lee—gee, I don’t know how I can explain this to you. Well—this is Mr. Yudelson, an old family friend. He just told me that my father, down on the East Side, is very sick—

Lee

East Side?

Jack

I held out on you, Mr. Lee, because my father and I had quarreled. I thought he never wanted to see me again. It hurt me so much that I wanted to start fresh, live a new life.... But now I find I didn’t quite understand. My father is the Cantor of the Orchard Street Synagogue. Tonight is the eve of the Day of Atonement. He and my mother sent Mr. Yudelson to ask me to sing in my father’s place tonight. I know all the prayers—

Lee

My dear boy, it’s out of the question.

Jack

Mr. Lee, isn’t there any possible chance?

Yudelson

Only tonight and tomorrow until it gets dark.

Lee

No, absolutely not. Why you’re the whole show. I’ve staked everything on you.... Jack, I’m going to tell you something. I was an actor myself once. My mother died one afternoon, but I went on that night....

Gene

[Appears left]. Say, chief—

Lee

What is it?

Gene

The fire underwriters are here.

Lee

I’m coming. [To Jack, slowly, earnestly, in a lowered voice.] Something happened a while ago that puts me in a position where I’m depending on you more than you know. Now, talk him out of it. [He goes.]

Yudelson

That’s your boss?

Jack

[After a moment of thought]. Yes.... Yudelson, do you realize what an awful lot of money is tied up in this show? It costs thousands and thousands of dollars....

Yudelson

[Impressed, the business man in him responding]. Is that so!

Jack

The scenery ... the costumes ... and all the actors.... Mr. Lee is responsible for everything—and he’s counting on me. You heard him—he’s staking everything on me.

Yudelson

Is that so?

Jack

Yudelson, you’re a business man ... now I ask you, how can I leave this show ... on a big opening night ... just because my mama and papa all of a sudden ... don’t you see?

Yudelson

Well, Jakie, if you can’t sing tonight, I’ll have to sit and listen to that voice from Levy’s.

Jack

Levy—that’s the Sexton, isn’t it? I’ll bet he’s got a fine voice.

Yudelson

Yeh, like a nanny goat! Nu, what can I do? I’ll explain to your mama the best way I can.

Jack

Yes, try to explain to them, Yudelson.

Yudelson

You’re sure you can’t come?

Jack

[With feeling]. You wouldn’t have to ask me twice. You know I’d come if I could.

Yudelson

[Shrugs shoulders]. All right, Jakie. Well, goodbye. Leshono Tovo Tikosamu.

Jack

Thank you. Happy New Year to you, too.

Yudelson

Look! He remembers! [He goes.]

Gene

[Off-stage]. Dress rehearsal just starting. Everybody concerned in the opening on stage!

[From off-stage come the bustling sounds of final preparations for the dress rehearsal. Jack is standing motionless where Yudelson left him. A brown velvet drop comes down. Jack is the figure of a tragic Pierrot as he stands against this simple background in his ludicrously wide comedy pants and his ludicrously short comedy coat.... He turns ... finds himself sitting on the trunk alone, heavy-hearted. Lee comes bustling in. He goes over to table, not seeing Jack. He is busy with a manuscript for a few seconds, then he feels Jack’s presence; looks up.]

Lee

Well, Jack, that old boy from the East Side has gone, eh?

Jack

[Barely raising his head]. Yes, he’s gone.

Lee

[Goes over to Jack]. Talked him out of it, did you?

Jack

[Slowly]. Yes, I talked him out of it.

Lee

I knew you could do it! You’re clever enough to get away with anything.... Just think of it, one more rehearsal and then the big opening. Aren’t you thrilled? Tomorrow everybody will be talking about you.

Jack

[To himself, in barely audible tones]. This is the first time in his life he won’t be able to sing in the synagogue....

Lee

What’s that, Jack?

Jack

[He rises, with a visible effort to shake himself out of his mood. He turns to Lee and begins walking off with the manager]. Oh, yes, Mr. Lee. I’ll do the best I can tonight—I only hope I won’t disappoint you.

[The words are scarcely out of Jack’s mouth when music is heard blaring off-stage, and the lights black out.]

CURTAIN

SCENE 2

Scene 2: Jack’s dressing room a few minutes later. Jack enters looking very unhappy. Automatically he glances at himself in the mirror, takes off his tie, his coat, his trousers, revealing another pair underneath. Then he sits down before the mirror. There is a knock at the door.

Jack

Come in.

[Mary enters. She is in pink costume. As she opens the door, music off-stage is heard. As the door closes the music is muted.]

Mary

Hello.

Jack

Hello.

Mary

Well?

Jack

Well, what?

Mary

Haven’t you anything to say about my costume?

Jack

Oh ... it’s nice ... very nice....

Mary

What enthusiasm!

[The dialogue that follows goes on while Jack is preparing his make-up. He moves about occasionally, going from his dressing table to the wash-basin, to the clothes closet. This movement and this general business of his hands give an air of casualness to the rendition of lines which are anything but casual in their meaning to Jack and to Mary.]

Jack

Gee, Mary, I’ve got other things besides costumes on my mind.

Mary

What is worrying you? That man who was here just now? [Jack nods.] What’s the matter with him?

Jack

Nothing the matter with him. He brought me some news about my father and mother.

Mary

Oh, it isn’t fair! It isn’t fair for him to disturb you when you are all keyed up before your opening tonight.... Oh, Jack—I just want to keep you away from everything—from everybody—until tonight is over.

Jack

You’ve got the right hunch all right. Mary, Yudelson told me things that are making me hate myself.

Mary

Tell me about it. Maybe I can help.

Jack

No, if I told you about it, you’d hate me, too.

Mary

I don’t think anything could make me hate you, Jack.... [There is a pause. She leans back, pretends to be absorbed in the ruffles on her costume.] Did you mean it ... when you said you loved me?

Jack

Sure, didn’t you know that? I’m crazy about you....

Mary

No, I didn’t know it.... Jack, since you told me about your father I’ve been thinking about you. I can’t get you out of my mind. A son of a Cantor....

Jack

Maybe it’s better that you should get me out of your mind. Maybe it would be better if I got you out of my mind.... Since Yudelson was here, I got a different slant on everything.... Yudelson and me, Dillings and you.... We’re far apart. We’re worlds apart. [He is now standing by the wash-basin filing a small bowl of water, and he moves slowly back to the dressing table carefully balancing the water.]

Mary

You don’t have to worry about Randolph. I’m not like him.

Jack

Well, you’re certainly not like me.... I know what you’re figuring. I’m a rough diamond—you’ll get me and polish me. Well, it’ll never happen. I’m going to be what I am all my life. And you’re going to be what you are.

Mary

[Slowly]. Then why did you say you loved me?

Jack

[Pause]. Do you really want to know? [Mary nods her head breathlessly.] Because I couldn’t help it. Love means marriage to me, and marriage means a home and kids.... I—I’d like to have a kid like you ... a little boy—but like you.... Gee, I’m crazy about you!

Mary

[Quaintly]. Say it again!

Jack

I ain’t going to say it no more ... because I’ve got no right to say it.... Yudelson came and told me—

Mary

You’ve simply got to forget.... Let’s just talk about you and me.

Jack

I can’t forget what Yudelson said. He said my father is sick. Tonight is the eve of the Day of Atonement—the most solemn Jewish holy day of the year, the big day of every Cantor’s year. You know what a Cantor is? He’s the mouthpiece of the congregation. He sings to God. My mother sent Yudelson to ask me to sing in my father’s place. You don’t know what it means to them. For five generations the Rabinowitzes have been Cantors. The name Rabinowitz is like a trade mark on Orchard Street. No substitutes will do....

Mary

What did you tell Mr. Yudelson?

Jack

What could I tell him?... The most important part of the services will be starting just about the time I have to go on the stage tonight.... I told him no, that I wouldn’t miss this opening, not even for my father and mother.

Mary

[Gravely]. I am glad you said that, Jack.

Jack

Glad?

Mary

Yes, my dear. You’ve got to think only of your work.

Jack

I’ve tried so hard to do that, but ... Mary, here’s something I never told anybody in my life.... Sometimes when I’m alone—and I’m alone a lot more than you think—the old songs from the synagogue start wailing in my ears ... and I—I cry.... In that hall bedroom in Chicago, I used to get down on my knees in the dark and talk to God in Hebrew. I—bawled him out ... because he made me only half a Cantor—half a Cantor, and half a bum. [He begins to black up.] If I was all bum, I wouldn’t care. What does a bum care? But if I was all Cantor, I would be happy.

Mary

Would you?

Jack

I think I would.

Mary

Then why didn’t you go with Yudelson?

Jack

[As he blacks up]. Why? You know why—people like you—like Lee. I’ve got Broadway in my blood. There’s something sweet about the sound of the English language in my ears.... I want to be part of America. I want to take it in my arms.... Gee, I wish I could express myself!...

Mary

[Understandingly]. My dear, I think I realize what you’re going through.

Jack

No you don’t.... [Intently.] Mary, my father is sick because of me.

Mary

[Quickly]. Nonsense.

Jack

He said a month ago he never wanted to see me again. I can see him now, eating his heart out ever since.

Mary

[Gently]. What can you do about it? Go down on the East Side and be a Cantor the rest of your life?

Jack

No. [Pause.]

Mary

Don’t you care about your career on the stage?

Jack

[Passionately]. It’s the only thing in the world for me.

Mary

The only thing?

Jack

Yes, the only thing.

Mary

[Slowly]. More than me, Jack?

Jack

More than you.

Mary

[Swiftly, with feeling]. That’s what I’ve been waiting to find out. [Music begins again off-stage.] Oh, don’t you see, Jack—I don’t want you selfishly. I want to see you live your own life. If the thing you want most is to be a black-face minstrel, then don’t let anything stand in your way—not your parents—me—anything....

Jack

[He is finishing blacking up]. I guess you’ve got the right idea, Mary. You’re O. K. [There is a knock on the door.] Come in.

Gene

[Enters]. Time you’re ready for your first number, Mr. Robin.

Jack

I’m almost ready now, Gene.

Gene

All right, Mr. Robin. [He goes.]

Jack

Hear that music? That’s that new fox-trot. [Hums, crosses stage and washes hands.] It’s a steal from something.... Mary, you know, if people only knew what it was to black up like this, I bet everybody would do it. What’s the name of that bird that puts his head in the ground and thinks he’s all covered up?

Mary

Ostrich?

Jack

Well, I feel like him with this black on. It covers your face and hides everything.... You know, Mary, this would be a good job if I didn’t have to buy so much soap. [Crosses to make-up shelf. Another knock on the door.] Come in.

Jimmy

[Enters, leaving door wide open. Music swells until door closes]. That man, Mr. Robin, the one who was here a while ago—he’s back. He insists on seeing you at once.

Jack

[Visibly affected]. It’s Yudelson.... Tell him he’ll have to wait until after this number.

Jimmy

There’s somebody with him—a lady.

Jack

A lady?

Mary

I’ll go, Jack. [She starts. Jack stops her.]

Jack

No, Mary. Stay here. [Jack moves swiftly in front of her. He has almost got to the door when Yudelson enters, followed by Sara. She has evidently come in great haste, for all she wears is a shawl over her house dress. She is almost exhausted from the trip, and numb with the emotions with which she is stricken.] Mama!

Sara

Jakie, this ain’t you....

Yudelson

It’s a nigger!

Jack

[In sudden agony]. Yudelson, didn’t you tell my mama?

Yudelson

I told her everything, the same way you told me, Jakie, but she made me I should bring her here.

Sara

[In a monotone]. Jakie, your papa is sick. He is laying in bed. His face is white....

Jack

Mama, sit down, please.

[All this happens very quickly. And now Jack, for an instant, has forgotten everything except his mother’s presence. He places a chair for her and automatically sinks back in his chair, arms on knees, facing her.]

Sara

[Continues numbly, hardly seeing the youth in blackface]. All the time he is talking about you. His eyes is open like a baby’s eyes. His face is white like a yahrzeit candle. He was saying, “Sara,” he said—his voice was so low, I could hardly hear him—“maybe Jakie will sing tonight in the synagogue....”

Jack

[Strangely touched]. He really said that, Mama?

Sara

He said it—the way I’m sitting here this minute, he said it.... For five generations God always heard a Rabinowitz sing every Day of Atonement, every holy day, every Sabbath. God is used to it now.... Maybe your papa is dying. God will ask him, Is Jakie singing in the synagogue tonight? How can he say, No, he is singing in a theatre!... Oh, my son, my heart is breaking in pieces.... You got two hours before the sun goes out of the sky and it gets dark. Come with me home, Jakie.

Jack

[Despairingly, head sunk on his chest]. Mama, I can’t. I can’t do it!

Sara

[In a more intense monotone]. How can you say this to me, your mama?... When you was a little boy, we were so poor.... I slaved my fingers to the bone that there should be money to buy you nice things. My fingers, they used to bleed. Look at my hands, Jakie. It is still there the marks.

Jack

[Bends over her hands]. I know, Mama. I know.

Gene

[Enters.] Your specialty’ll be on in a minute, Mr. Robin.

Jack

All right, Gene.... Mama, I haven’t time to tell you—I’ve got to go on! Yudelson ... Mary ... tell my mother....

Mary

I’ll go out and see if I can’t hold them for a moment. [She hastens out.]

Sara

[As if in a trance]. Your papa said, “Ask Jakie he should forgive me. He is doing things from sin, but he don’t mean it. In his heart he is a Rabinowitz”.... Jakie, the way I’m sitting here, before God I swear it—that is what he said.

Jack

[His voice almost breaking]. I believe you, mama! I believe you!

Gene

[Enters again]. We’re waiting for you, Mr. Robin. We can’t hold it any longer.

Jack

[Frantic]. Yes, yes, I’m coming!... Mama, if you only knew how the manager is depending on me.... [Off-stage can be heard the introductory chords to a jazz song.] They’re going to make me a star, Mama....

Gene

[With irritated finality]. There’s your introduction, Mr. Robin! [He goes.]

Jack

Yes, yes! [He is now in full comedy costume and is kneeling before his mother.] Mama, there’s my introduction—wait here fifteen minutes—I haven’t got time to tell you.... Yudelson! Please talk to my mama.

Gene

[Enters again]. Mr. Robin, they’ll blame me for this!

Jack

Yes, yes, I’m coming. Mama—Yudelson—wait! Please!

[He goes. The door is open. We see the changing lights through the door. Yudelson gently forces Sara into a chair by the door as we hear Jack off-stage shouting the comedy lines of the beginning of the act.... “I’m going down South to the land of cotton and jasmine, where the watermelons grow, where I can be with my Mammy. If you’ll all sit down I’ll sing you a song all about it”....

Then the orchestra throbs into wailing, syncopating life, and Jack is heard, off-stage singing a verse and chorus of “Dixie Mammy.” His rendition is excellent jazz—that is, it has an evangelical fervor, a fanatical frenzy; it wallows in plaintiveness and has moments of staggering dramatic intensity, despite the obvious shoddiness of the words and the music. We are listening to a Cantor in blackface, to a ritual supplication on the stage, to religion cheapened and intensified by the trappings of Broadway. He finishes his first chorus.]

Yudelson

[Crosses to the door, listens]. That’s Jakie.

[Jack is going into a complicated staccato “talking” dramatization of the last half of the chorus—something like this:

“I—want—you—to—understand....
That—it’s—my—mammy....
My—mammy—I—tell—you....
And—my—daddy....
You—bet....
Your—life....
It’s—my—mammy—and—daddy, I—tell—you....
I’m—going—back—
I’m—going—back—down—South—
Down—South,—I—tell—you....”

[Sara rises, a broken creature, her frail body barely able to carry her out. She moves out of the door, Yudelson following her, trying to detain her.]

Sara

That ain’t my Jakie! That ain’t my boy!... I’m going home!

[The stage is empty. We see the grotesque, elongated shadows of Sara and Yudelson against the multi-colored lights back-stage as they pass, evidently out of the theatre. We are hearing Jack’s last line of the song—

“I’ve had my fling,

And it don’t mean a thing—”

His voice breaks. He repeats in intensely personal agony, “It don’t mean a thing ... it don’t mean a thing—my God!—it don’t mean a....”

There is a sudden awkward silence—a silence of a fraction of a second; and then we hear, offstage, a surge of congratulations. We hear Carter’s voice, the voices of women, Gene’s voice. The next instant Jack is in the door-way. He sees that the dressing room is empty. He turns, helplessly looking about. He knows it is no use—that his mother has gone. He stands for a second brushing the eyes of his blacked up face with his white glove.

And then Carter, Gene, half a dozen chorus girls, and Forbes break in upon him. They are enthusiastic, excited, congratulatory. Their remarks tumble one on top of the other in a confusion of sound:

“I take off my hat to you, Jack!”

“You certainly can put over a song!”

“Oh, Mr. Robin, it was wonderful!”

“It was grand, Mr. Robin—just grand!”

“You won’t need a press agent after tonight, old fellow!”

“It was just gorgeous—simply gorgeous!”

Lee plunges in and scatters them all, crying—“Get out for the next number!” ... and Lee and Jack are alone. Jack is standing, his back to Lee, his head bent.]

Lee

Jack, that was wonderful! Why, you actually cried! Say, do it that way tonight and you’ll be a knock-out. [Lee bolts out, calling as he goes.] All right, Gene! Ready for the next number!

[Jack is alone on the stage. He sinks into a chair as the curtain falls.]

ACT THREE

Scene: Same as Act I.

Time: About an hour and a half after Act II.

At rise: Stage is empty. Since it is about six o’clock on a September day, the light is beginning to wane. Throughout this act, dark gradually creeps into the room, while outside the window a bar of sunset radiance deepens in contrast.

There is a knock on the door, and Levy, the Shamus, or Sexton, corner in. He looks about, opening one or two doors, and apparently he finds no one. He shrugs his shoulders, muttering and humming to himself, and is about to go out when Moey enters from the music room.

Levy

Where is Mr. Yudelson?

Moey

He went with Mrs. Rabinowitz to take the Cantor to the hospital.

Levy

Is he coming back here?

Moey

Sure he’s coming back. He told me to wait here and he’d give me a dime.

Levy

Well, you tell him I got to see him personal—it’s very important. I’ll be back. [Levy goes. Moey looks out of the window with the air of a conspirator, takes a cookie from his pocket, munches it, draws a lurid dime novel from another pocket and settles himself comfortably to read. The door opens and he hastily thrusts the dime novel under the table, jamming the rest of the cookie, evidently stolen from the kitchen, into his pocket.]

Sara

[Enters, followed by Dr. O’Shaughnessy and Yudelson. Her face is deadly pale and lined with suffering. She is so weary that she can hardly move. She says over and over again]. He didn’t want I should stay with him.... My Yosele didn’t want I should stay with him.

[The doctor helps her over to the settee; then he takes bottles from his medicine case and prepares a potion for her.]

Yudelson

Did anybody come, Moey?

Moey

Yeh, a lot of people. Gee, Mrs. Schultz from upstairs, and Mrs. Lefkowitch ... and a lot of people.

Yudelson

Did you tell them—

Moey

Yeh, I told them you were taking the Cantor to a hospital.

Yudelson

Did they said anything about Jakie?

Mary

Yeh, they all asked about him, and if he’s coming to sing. And Mr. Levy was here three times. He said you should see him as soon as you came.

Yudelson

All right, Moey, you can go—you’re a good boy. Here is the nickel I promised you for minding the house.

Moey

[Takes nickel]. You promised me a dime.

Yudelson

[Takes it back]. That’s right. I’ll give you later!

[Moey goes, saying “Aw!”]

Doctor

Here, drink some of this. You’ll feel much better.

Sara

He didn’t want I should stay with him. My Yosele didn’t want I should stay with him—

Doctor

That’s very natural, Mrs. Rabinowitz—the Cantor is weak. He needs the quiet of a hospital.

Sara

Quiet he needs? You think he’s laying there in the hospital quiet? Why did I tell him Jakie ain’t coming? Why didn’t I tell him a lie?

Doctor

Now, drink this. Then you must lie down for a half-hour. And then you simply must eat. You promised the Cantor you were going to attend the services, you know, and you must have some nourishment if you’re going to fast tonight and tomorrow.

Sara

Doctor, tell me the true. The Cantor, he’s dying?

Doctor

[Pause]. I think, if we keep him very quiet, he’ll come through. He has a powerful constitution. Come now, Mrs. Rabinowitz, take this.

Yudelson

Yes, drink, drink. [She obeys.]

Doctor

Now, let me help you into your room. Just lie down for a little while—[He takes her to door.] Stay here as long as you can, Mr. Yudelson. And keep the neighbors out.

Yudelson

I did that already.

[The doctor goes into Sara’s room. A knock, and Clarence Kahn enters.]

Clarence

[He is excited]. Mr. Yudelson! I don’t know what to do with the choir!

Yudelson

What’s the matter now?

Clarence

They don’t want to sing tonight.

Yudelson

They don’t want to sing?

Clarence

They say Mr. Levy doesn’t know any of the Cantor’s tunes, that his voice is inadequate, and that he’d be better off singing alone than spoiling the services with a choir.

Yudelson

[Slowly]. They’re loafers, but they’re right.... What can I do? The members are paying a special assessment five dollars for the Day of Atonement singing.... If Levy sings, they’ll want we should give them the money back.

Clarence

Have you tried my cousin, Avram Lipski? He came from Russia last week. He lives around the corner.

Yudelson

Why didn’t you speak from this before? Avram Lipski I know—at least a voice he’s got.

Levy

[Knocks and enters]. Aha! Mr. Yudelson! You’re just the man I was wanting to see!

Yudelson

[Coldly]. Nu, Mr. Levy—?

Levy

[Smugly]. I must get from you official the order I should sing tonight.

Yudelson

[Brusquely]. Oh no, I couldn’t give you yet.

Levy

If you couldn’t give me, who could?

Yudelson

I could give you, but I couldn’t give you yet.

Levy

What kind answer is this? It’s nearly dark, and you couldn’t give me official the appointment yet?

Clarence

[Follows Levy]. Mr. Levy, several points of view must be taken into consideration. The choir must be considered, for instance.

Yudelson

I told you, I couldn’t give you yet. In half an hour I’ll know.

Levy

In a half an hour it will be too late. I got to practise a little bit in advance with the choir, ain’t I?

Yudelson

In half an hour it’ll be too late? For thirty years you waited the Cantor should get sick, you can wait another half hour!

Levy

[Undaunted]. Brother Yudelson, you are the chairman from the Executive Committee, no?

Yudelson

Brother Levy, I am the chairman of the Executive Committee. Make yourself a tsimmes from it.

Levy

All right—all right. Then you are the chairman from the Executive Committee. So I want to ask you, who is the shamus of the Orchard Street Synagogue? Am I the shamus oder ain’t I the shamus?

[The argument has reached its vociferous height when suddenly the door is opened and Jack stands on the threshold. His appearance cuts the noise of the three men in the room as if with a knife. They stare at him open-mouthed. He is out of breath. He is a young man who has made a grave decision, and that decision has already given him a new dignity. In an instant, pale and quiet, he is by Yudelson’s side.]

Yudelson

[The first of the three to recover]. Jakie!

Jack

Yudelson, get me a praying shawl, and see if you can find a plush skull cap like the Cantor’s, only a little smaller.

Yudelson

[Triumphantly]. A praying shawl and a skull cap! Jakie is going to sing!

Clarence

Jack is going to sing! [He rushes out with the news.]

Yudelson

Levy, get a praying shawl and a skull cap, quick!

Levy

Where could I find—

Yudelson

You’re the shamus, ain’t you? For a shamus it ain’t hard to find plenty praying shawls.

Levy

[Moves to the door, protestingly]. He’s going to sing? A young boy from Broadway! What does he know from Shool? The committee is making a big mistake—[He goes.]

Yudelson

[Calls after him]. I’ll speak from this at the next committee meeting. [Moves over to Jack, deep feeling in his voice.] Jakie, I’m so glad you came.... I’m so glad. [Jack moves to the Cantor’s room.] Where you going?

Jack

To see my father.

Yudelson

He ain’t there. [Jack stops.] We just took him to the hospital.

Jack

[Dazed]. Hospital?

Yudelson

Yes. Gouverneur Hospital. [Pause.]

Jack

Where’s Mama?

Yudelson

She’s inside. You stay here. I’ll call her. [He goes out, calling.] Mrs. Rabinowitz! Mrs. Rabinowitz! Jakie is here! Jakie is here! [He comes back.]

Sara

[Can be heard, her voice throbbing]. Jakie here? [She enters.] I knew you was coming, Jakie. I knew you was coming! [She sinks on the settee and for the first time tears stream from her eyes.] Oh, my Jakie ... my darling ... I knew you was coming....

Jack

Mama, Mama.... I couldn’t stand it.... I had to come.... Yudelson told me about Papa—[Dr. O’Shaughnessy enters.] Hello, Dr. O’Shaughnessy.

Doctor

How do you do, Jakie.

Jack

[Slowly]. Is my father ... worse?

Sara

Oh, Jakie, he’ll be better now—he’ll be better. The doctor will tell him. Doctor, please go right away and tell the Cantor Jakie is here.

Jack

I’ll go with you, if you don’t think it’ll do any harm.

Doctor

Better not. It might excite him too much to see you. I’ll tell him. It’ll do him all the good in the world....

Sara

[Sudden fear in her voice]. Jakie—you’re going to sing, ain’t you?

Jack

Yes, Mama.

Sara

[In surging excitement]. Doctor, tell the Cantor Jakie is going to sing!... Couldn’t I please speak with him on the telephone?

Doctor

No! That’s impossible, Mrs. Rabinowitz. [He is moving toward the door.]

Sara

Doctor, remember to tell him everything.

Doctor

Yes.

Sara

Tell him Jakie came right away.

Doctor

Yes, yes.

Sara

Tell him Jakie looks beautiful!

Doctor

I’ll tell him.

Sara

Tell him Jakie is standing on pins and needles, so anxious he is to practise with the choir. Tell him Jakie ain’t even thinking from no theatre.

Doctor

I’ll tell him, Mrs. Rabinowitz.

Sara

Don’t forget!

Doctor

I won’t. And don’t you forget to eat and get a good night’s sleep. Goodbye. [He goes toward the door, stopping by Yudelson.] My telephone number’s on this card. I’ll be at the hospital. If you want me call me there. [The Doctor goes.]

Jack

The doctor said you must eat, Mama.

Sara

Sure I’ll eat. And you, too. I made ready such a lot to eat before fasting.

Jack

I don’t want anything, Mama.

Sara

Never mind, I’ll make you anyway a cup of tea. [She goes into the kitchen.]

Yudelson

You see, she’s a new person already.

Jack

[In a low tone]. Yudelson ... don’t tell Mama ... but I left without even seeing the boss. Just as soon as the dress rehearsal was finished, I told the stage manager I wasn’t going to show up.... Well—you were there. You know what I told you about the show....

Yudelson

[Impressed]. It’s a lot of money, and you’re throwing it away for your papa!

Jack

It isn’t the money, Yudelson. Mr. Lee believed in me, and I left him flat. [He sits wearily.]

Yudelson

Never mind. Never mind. Don’t worry from bosses. A papa is hard to find, but bosses there’s planty....

Jack

I’m finished.

Yudelson

Jakie, don’t worry. You can always have a job in my store.

Jack

[Nervously drumming with his fingers]. Why doesn’t Levy show up with that praying shawl? Why does everybody take so long?

Yudelson

[Moves to the door]. I’ll get him, Jakie.

Jack

Is the choir ready for a quick rehearsal?

Yudelson

Everything is ready.

Jack

I want to go over at least Kol Nidre once.

Yudelson

They’re standing all ready now waiting—I’ll bring your praying shawl and a skull cap. Everything will be all right. [Yudelson hastens out. Jack sits in silence for a moment; then, head in his hands, he begins humming to himself the plaintive, majestic cadences of Kol Nidre. He might be his own great grandfather in the Russian Ghetto hidden in some dark cellar praying to a forbidden God, as he sits there, weary, determined, humming a tune thousands of years old. He does not hear the repeated knocks on the door. Lee has opened the door and entered, and is half-way toward Jack before the boy sees him.]

Jack

Mr. Lee!

Lee

I got your message. Gene gave me the address. [He crosses to Jack. They both are standing, tense.] Do you realize what you’re doing?

Jack

I’d rather cut off my right arm than do this to you.

Lee

Forget me—think of yourself. You’re a young fellow. Tonight is the chance of a lifetime for you.

Jack

I know it.

Lee

You may think in your heart you’ll succeed anyway. I know better.... If you don’t come through for me tonight, I could never bring myself to engage you again. Rumors will creep out on Broadway. Your name will be mud. Stage people have little sympathy for the sort of thing you’re planning to do tonight....

Jack

[Dully]. I know it, Mr. Lee. I don’t want any mercy. [Sinks into the settee.]

Lee

[Shifts his tactics]. How sick is your father?... Is he too sick to be talked to?... I should think he’d be proud of you when you tell him what a great opportunity you’re getting....

Jack

He couldn’t understand any more than you can understand.

Lee

Why are you doing this?

Jack

I don’t know.... I’m doing it.... Isn’t that enough?

Lee

Well, I’ll tell you why you’re doing it—

Jack

Don’t give me any more analysis. It gives me a headache.

Lee

It’s going to give you a much greater headache when the lawyers get after you.

Jack

Lawyers?

Lee

You know, my boy, you signed a pay-or-play contract. And you didn’t sign it with me as an individual. You signed it with a corporation of which I am the president. That corporation has stockholders. Those stockholders vote....

Jack

When you hired me, did you have to ask the stockholders?

Lee

No.

Jack

Then fire me without asking them.... [He rises, drops into chair by table.] And keep the lawyers away, Mr. Lee. I don’t know anything about law.

Lee

[Closes in on Jack]. Now listen. This afternoon I broke with my biggest backer on your account. And now my own money—every dollar I have on earth—is at stake.... I hate to bring in the personal element, Jack, but you have it in your hands either to make or break me.

Jack

[Head sunk in his hands]. It’s your money against my father’s life, Mr. Lee. What can I do?

Lee

I’ll tell you what you can do. You have one hour to get back to the theatre and live up to your contract with me.

Jack

Why can’t you postpone the opening of the show?

Lee

I postponed this show twice because of you. The owners of the theatre have a show of their own they want to bring in. They’ll jump at this opportunity to put me out.

Jack

Why don’t you get another theatre?

Lee

At this time of the year? [With sudden furious indignation.] You’ve got a lot of nerve, asking me that! Nobody ever did that much for me, and I’ll be damned if I’ll do it for you!

Jack

You’re hard.

Lee

You bet I’m hard. I’m in a hard business. It’s like being in an army. The soft man gets licked. You’re soft—and you’re getting licked.

Jack

[Raises his head]. Soft, because I’m giving up the biggest night of my life to keep my mother’s heart from breaking? Soft, because I’m going to pray in a synagogue so that my father can be proud of his family name—so that my father may live?... You think it’s going to be easy for me to stand there singing stuff that doesn’t mean anything to me anymore and give up playing to a big Broadway opening night?... Soft because I’m giving up the only girl I ever loved—

Lee

Giving her up?

Jack

Yes, giving her up. She’s like you. Hardened to the stage idea. She thinks I’m soft, too—sentimental. Don’t you think I went through hell before I came down here?

Lee

[Harshly]. You’re kidding yourself. You really want to sing in a Synagogue tonight. You’re getting a kick out of feeling like a martyr. I’ve seen this sort of thing before. First-rate people don’t pull it. If you were made of the stuff that succeeds, you, with your brains and personality, could have talked your father and your mother out of it....

Jack

What’s the use of words, Mr. Lee? My father’s religion is a stone wall, and so is your business. [Rises.] I took my chance.... Good-bye, Mr. Lee—I have to run along.

Sara

[Enters from the kitchen]. Jakie, I got ready for you a cup of tea.

Jack

Not now, Mama.

[There is a pause as he and Sara regard each other.]

This is my mother, Mr. Lee. Mama, this is Mr. Lee, the producer of the show I was rehearsing with—my boss.

Lee

How do you do.

Sara

I’m pleased to meet you.

Jack

I’ve got to practise with the choir. I’ll be back. [He goes. There is a silence.]

Lee

Do you mind if I use your telephone?

Sara

Go ahead—use all you want.

Lee

Thank you. [Goes to phone.] Circle 13876....

Sara

You are Jakie’s boss?

Lee

Not any longer.... Hello. I want to talk to Gene. Mr. Lee. Tell him to call me here as soon as possible. This is Orchard 5374. [Hangs up phone.]

Sara

You know Jakie’s papa is sick?

Lee

Yes. I know.

Sara

[Slowly]. You got a papa?

Lee

[Gently]. I had a father, and I had a mother, too. They both died while I was working. I was working for another man. I had to attend to my business, and I did.

Sara

Your papa and mama wouldn’t attend to their business if you should die, God forbid.

Lee

My father and mother were on the stage all their lives, and I know they were proud to have me stick to my duty.

Sara

That’s what Jakie is doing ... his duty.

Lee

I’m sorry, Mrs. Rabinowitz, if I don’t seem to sympathize. But my relations with your son are business relations. He owes me a great deal.

Sara

From business I don’t know. All I know is what is in my Jakie’s heart. In his heart is love for his God and for his papa, and he wants tonight to sing to God the way his papa learned him.... Don’t you know this?... You looked at Jakie. Couldn’t you see this in his eyes?

Lee

Pardon me. [At phone.] Yes? Gene?

Sara

I got to go to the kitchen. I forgot to light my candles. [She goes.]

Lee

Gene, do everything just as I laid it out before I left. We positively open tonight. Let Carter do all Robin’s scenes and numbers. He’ll do until Valentine can get up in the part. Now connect me with the booking office. [There is a knock on the door.] Come in! [Mary enters.] Mary! How did you get down here?

Mary

Gene told me I’d find you here.

Lee

[In phone]. Hello. Anthony?... Did you hear from the booking office?... No, I told you to tell them we will not postpone. Jack Robin suddenly taken ill. Carter will appear tonight.... Did you wire Todd Valentine?... Good. Stick to the figure I gave you, but if he’s obstinate, double it if you have to—but close it in tonight by wire. He can work in every number we’ve got.... Goodbye.... I’ll be back later.

Mary

Harry, aren’t you a bit hard on Jack? He doesn’t really want to do this, you know. He has to.

Lee

Oh, no. He doesn’t have to. That boy is sentimental about his mother and father. He’s willing to be a failure just to be able to say, “I did it for my parents.”

Mary

You’re just as big a baby as he is! Jack is crazy to make good for you. You ought to know that.

Lee

You didn’t talk to him. I did.

Mary

[Frightened]. You talked to Jack? What did he say?

Lee

He’s going to stay down here.

Mary

For good?

Lee

How should I know?

Mary

[Despairingly]. Sometimes, Harry, when I hear you big successful men in critical moments, I wonder how you ever got where you are. You know so little about why people do things. You ought to know, Harry, that Jack will be back in three days, ready to sing his heart out for you.

Lee

[Impressively]. You just take one look at that boy and you’ll change your mind.

Mary

Where is he? I’ve got to talk to him.

Lee

What do you want to do with him?

Mary

I’ve got to bring him back to his senses. He must not stay down here. It would ruin his whole career.

Lee

[Thoughtfully]. You can’t do anything with him.... Maybe you can with his mother.... That’s why I stayed behind. I want to talk to her just once more.... I want to convince her that he belongs to us, and not down here.

Mary

[Sits, her voice deepens]. Harry, have you met his mother?

Lee

Yes.

Mary

She’s real.... That’s why it took me so long to make up my mind. And then I realized that if I could show her the truth—[Sara enters]. How do you do, Mrs. Rabinowitz?

Sara

Hello, lady. Your name I don’t know, so excited I was in the theatre. You came maybe you should hear Jakie sing tonight?

Mary

Where is Jack, Mrs. Rabinowitz? I’d like to see him.

Sara

Right now you couldn’t see him. He’s in the synagogue. He’s practising with the choir. Open the window, and you could hear him just like you was sitting there.

Lee

Miss Dale wants to talk to Jack.

Sara

[Stops, looks at Lee]. Miss Dale is from you a friend?

Mary

I’m a very good friend of Mr. Lee’s.

Sara

If you are a good friend from him, then with Jakie you shouldn’t speak tonight.

Mary

I’m afraid you don’t understand. I’m a good friend of Mr. Lee’s, but I’m also a very good friend of Jack’s.

Sara

A good friend from Jakie’s would leave him alone tonight. I am Jakie’s mama. Did I made him he should eat? No.... He wants he should practise with the choir. So I let him go hungry. Sometimes love lets people go hungry.

Mary

I love Jack, too, Mrs. Rabinowitz—and that’s why I want him to go to the theatre tonight.... It’s his one great opportunity. [A pause.] You know, I found him.

Sara

You found him?

Mary

I recognized his ability—I helped him to realize his own powers. [Tensely.] Oh, please, can’t you understand? I’m trying to do the one thing a woman can do for a man.

Lee

[He has come to a decision and now breaks in]. Mrs. Rabinowitz, let me ask you a question.... When was the last time that Jack attended a synagogue?

Sara

When he was confirmed. He was thirteen years old. He sang a solo in the choir. It was beautiful.

Lee

Mary, did he ever attend a synagogue during the time you have known him?

Mary

No.

Lee

Mrs. Rabinowitz, he ran away from all this, [Indicates the room] didn’t he?

Sara

[Slowly]. Why are you asking me like this questions?

Lee

[Crescendo]. Because I want that boy to be true to himself. Do you suppose the Cantor would want Jack to sing unless he sings with the heart of a Jew? I know that boy. He’s saying to himself, “My career is gone. The girl I love is losing faith in me. I don’t want to sing this stuff that I don’t understand—to a God whose meaning I don’t get.” He’s saying to himself, “My mother will be heartbroken if I don’t do it. My father will die. That’s why I’ll do it.”

Sara

[In a faint voice]. No, no. You are telling me lies!

Mary

[Moved]. Harry—let’s go—can’t you see you are hurting—

Lee

[Rising to his climax]. Supposing the Cantor could see into Jack’s heart? Do you know what he would see there? Jazz music, nigger music—if you want to call it that. Do you think that would make him happy?

[The door opens and Jack enters. The evening light has deepened. Jack’s face is white, his eyes burning black. There is a new quality in him; he has become fanatic].

Jack

Mama, you better get ready. [He sees no one, apparently, except his mother.] The services will begin soon. [Now he sees Mary. Carefully laying down the praying shawl and skull cap he brought with him, he turns to her. He speaks quietly.] You came!

Mary

Yes, Jack.

Jack

[Simply]. I’m glad.

Sara

Jakie.

Jack

Yes.

Sara

I want to ask you something....

Jack

Yes, Mama.

Sara

I want you should tell me the truth.

Jack

Yes, Mama.

Sara

Jakie, I want you to do only what is in your heart. Answer me: Are you singing tonight because you love me and your Papa and your God—because you want to be in the Synagogue on the Day of Atonement—or is your heart far away in theatres with jazz music?

Jack

[Turning upon Mary and Lee]. What are you people doing here—what are you trying to do to me?

Mary

We’re here for your sake, Jack.

Jack

Did you put this into my mother’s head?

Lee

I did, Jack.

Mary

So did I.... Oh, Jack—don’t you understand? I love you. I love you enough to be cruel to you for your sake. Oh, my dear, tell me that you are true to yourself, and I’ll go. I’ll go and I’ll come back to you. Tell me that you lied this afternoon when you said that the only real thing in your life was your career—tell me that you lied every time you got up on the stage in that Madison Street movie house—

Jack

[Turns on her with an effort]. Mama, get ready. We’ll be late.

Lee

[Mercilessly]. All we want is the truth, Jack. When I came in here—when I talked to you, didn’t you want to come back with me? In your heart didn’t you want to come back?

Mary

Jack—this afternoon, when you were talking to me, you told me—you said—

Sara

Jakie—did you want to come?

Jack

[Sinks into chair. He is defeated]. No.

Sara

[Leans over him]. And yet you came ... you came home ... and you was singing with the choir....

Jack

Yes, I came home....

[There is a silence].

Sara

[Her voice sings a hymn of sacrifice]. It’s enough. I didn’t know until today how different your life is from your papa’s, from mine. I didn’t understand that by you being a ragtime singer is like by your papa being a Cantor.... Jakie—do what is in your heart.... Always you can come back to me. I’m your mama.... But if you sing tonight and God ain’t in your heart, your Papa he’ll know.... All his life your papa loved God and the truth. Maybe if I tell your papa, he will understand....

Jack

[On the point of collapse. His voice is bitter, sardonic in defeat]. Me a Cantor.... Funny—that’s what it is—funny.... I was just rehearsing with the choir, and they were like strangers to me—the same little boys that I used to play with—and they were strangers to me!... Sure! I’m from uptown—Broadway.... Seemed like every one of them was pointing his finger at me and saying, “Jakie Rabinowitz, jazz singer! Jakie Rabinowitz, jazz singer!”...

Lee

[Very quietly, very tactfully]. We have exactly a half-hour to get to the theatre.

Sara

[Her great moment of sacrifice]. It’s all right, Jakie.... You can go.... [The telephone rings—she crosses to it.] Hello—what?... Who?... I can’t hear you.... What?... It’s a buzzing in my ears—I can’t—

Mary

[Moves over]. Shall I?

Sara

[Giving her the phone]. Thank you.

Mary

Hello.... I’ll talk for Mrs. Rabinowitz.... Yes, she’s right here. I’ll take the message.... What is it?... Doctor O’Shaughnessy? Yes.... [Her back is to the audience but it is evident that what she hears is staggering. She gasps.] Yes—no—I’ll—I’ll tell—him.... Goodbye. [She hangs up phone.]

Sara

[Apathetically]. It’s from the Cantor?

Mary

Yes.

Sara

He’s all right? He needs me?

Mary

No, he doesn’t need you. He’s—all right.

Sara

I bet he wants something to eat, don’t he?

Mary

No—he’s not hungry—at all.

Sara

Then he’s resting?

Mary

Yes—he’s resting.

Sara

Thank you.

Jack

[Who has turned when Mary gasped]. Mama, you’d better get ready. We’ll be late. [Takes her to door and she goes into the kitchen for the candles. He turns swiftly to Mary, holding the kitchen door closed behind him. His voice is tense.] Is he ... worse?

Mary

[Slowly]. He just ... died.

Jack

Oh, my God! [Emotion has returned to him. He sobs.] He told me God would punish me! I thought I could get away from Cantors! Well, God showed me.... [His voice rises to a wail and then subsides.] The Day of Atonement!—I’ll say it’s the Day of Atonement. [Sara enters with lighted candles. Jack suddenly turns to her.] Mama! I’m going with you! I’m going to the synagogue!

Sara

[Unbelieving joy in her voice]. Jakie!

Jack

I’m your son. I’m the son of my father. Mama, I’m a Cantor, see?... I’m Cantor Rabinowitz! God’s going to hear me sing Kol Nidre tonight! [He is strong in the power of his decision.]

Sara

[Tears in her eyes]. Jakie!

Jack

[Moves with her to the door]. You go ahead, Mama. You have to go to the balcony. I’ll look for you there from the altar.

Sara

[As she goes]. Your papa will be so happy! He will be so happy.... [Jack closes the door. There is a pause.]

Mary

Jack—isn’t there anything you want me to do?

Jack

Just root for me ... to get over ... like you did before.... No—I’ll be all right here.... What a little boy learns, he never forgets.... Goodbye, Mary. [He puts on skull cap and shawl, kisses the mazuzah, and is gone.]

[Faintly, through the closed windows, the murmur of the voices of the Children of Israel in prayer can be heard in the darkening room. The stained glass windows of the synagogue next door are lighting up and throw a many-colored radiance into the room.]

Lee

There goes your blackface comedian.

Mary

[Passionately]. Do you think that boy will be a Cantor all his life?

Lee

That boy’s career on the stage is ended. He’ll never come back.

Mary

He’s got to come back.

Lee

[Shrugs his shoulders]. Well, I’m going. Better hurry, Mary.

Mary

[Suddenly stops him]. Wait—

Lee

What is that?

Mary

They are praying.... I want you to listen.... [Lee comes over by Mary. They stand silhouetted against the evening sky, a profile of radiance shed on them from the glowing window of the synagogue.] You are going to hear a blackface comedian singing to his God.... [Now the choir can be heard in the noble strains of Kol Nidre. Lee and Mary stand motionless. Jack’s voice rises, pouring forth in a flood of prayer; it subsides; rises again. Here is something of the same quality that he put, earlier that afternoon, into his cheap Mammy song.] Don’t you see, Harry, it’s in his blood.... He’ll have to come back.

Lee

[Slowly]. I hope so.

[The wailing sing-song of the congregation beats in like the sound of surf; the choir’s rich harmonies rise again to the climax of Kol Nidre; Jack’s voice, clear and passionate, poignantly tops them all as the curtain falls.]

CURTAIN

Transcriber’s Notes.

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Table of Contents

- THE JAZZ SINGER
- FOREWORD
- PREFACE
- CAST OF CHARACTERS
- SYNOPSIS OF SCENES
- ACT ONE

- ACT TWO

- SCENE 1

- SCENE 2

- ACT THREE
- Transcriber’s Notes.
- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE