LIBRARY OF TH UNIVERSITY QF FILLING POLLEAOCEUEEATENLESUEOGRSLDESOSERSAMATOATDOUES OES URERSEEAAUET TEETER EECTREEEESTOSLERT TE OPEOOTSTUOLLOOE RESON ATEOSEEA SCO STATENUEESEELESOOEASEEODTOR EEL OR EMIT ET Marse Covington A PLAY IN ONE ACT By GEORGE ADE | Copyright, 1923, by George Ade All Rights Reserved Price Fifty Cents New YORK LONDON SAMUEL FRENCH SAMUEL FRENCH, LT». PUBLISHER 26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET 93-30: WEST 38TH STREET STRAND ANEQULYAEUAUDANDEUEDEUATEUDSUNUDGEAAUNNAEEAERN DEA UEUS EA UOEE ECU ee pr ae ee ne A ee ee - * - $ : | mn" ; we f eter ahs Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. A charge is made on all overdue books. University of Illinois Library M32 PAu 1 : ry 11m hy eer A 130 OF THE NiVERSITY OF ILLING! MARSE COVINGTON A ELA INGON ES AGT BY GEORGE ADE CoPpyRIGHT, 1923, By GEorGE ADE New York Lonpon SAMUEL FRENCH SAMUEL FRENCH, Lr. PUBLISHER 26 SoUTHAMPTON STREET 28-30 West 38TH STREET STRAND All Rights Reserved “MARSE COVINGTON” is fully protected by copyright, and all rights reserved. Permission to act, read publicly, or to make any use of it must be obtained from Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York. It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty of Five Dollars for each performance, payable to Samuel French one week before the date when the play is given. Professional rates quoted on application. | Whenever the play is produced the following notice must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the play: “Produced by special arrangement with Samuel French of New York.” Pr, CAST) (OF) CHARACTERS CAPTAIN CovincTon B. HAuuipay, a remnant of the old aristocracy. Eppiz BANTREE, proprietor of the place. Uncie DAN, a slavery-days negro. ARTHUR BIRD, a regular. JAmeEs H. Rotter, a regular. SCENE: At the steel door of a gambling house. Time: The present. SUGGESTIONS REGARDING CHARACTERS CAPTAIN HALuipay is middle-aged, of military bear- ing; may speak with a slight accent, but do not emphasize. He is as proud as Lucifer, digni- fied, a representative of the old-time Southern chivalry. He wears a frock coat, clean but very much worn, a wide slouch hat and may carry a stick. Suggest the mustache and imperial. He ts poverty-stricken to the point of starvation. BANTREE is a flashy, loud and vulgar sport of the bull-neck variety. He wears evening clothes, shori coat with a single diamond in the shirt. UNcLE DAN 1s a well-trained and elderly negro serv- ant; he wears a “dress suit’ and may have white gloves. He is a type of the old-time Southern house servant, obsequious, polite, deferential. BirD 1s a young swell in evening clothes, coat off, has been drinking, hair mussed, etc. Good chance for character bt. ROLLER is a straight part. Clean-looking young fel- low in evening clothes. MARSE COVINGTON The set represents an anteroom or hallway in a gambling house. There need be little furniture other than a hatrack against the wall upstage at R. of c. At L. of C., against the wall, a tele- phone. At v. there is a doorway, which is sup- posed to lead to the street. It is heavily barred and has a heavy chain across it so that two or three locks must be unfastened before the door is opened. In the middle of the door is a peek- hole with a wooden slide so that any one inside may look out and see who is demanding admit- tance. At R. is an open doorway which is sup- posed to lead into the gambling room. Along- side this doorway a sideboard wnih decanters, glasses, cigars, etc. At the rise of the curtain BANTREE ts discovered at the telephone. He has the receiver at his ear and is talking into the ’phone. BANTREE. (In the ’phone) No. (Pause.) No. that’s all a bluff. They haven’t bothered us for two weeks. We’re running along just the same as usual. (Birp enters from R., excited.) Brrp. Eddie, I want to see you a minute. BANTREE. I'll be right with you, my boy. (Into *bhone) All right, Charley. (Pause, during which Birp pours out drink and gulps it down. BANTREE 5 6 MARSE COVINGTON once more into “phone) Yes—sure thing—send ’em up. (Brrp plunges hands into trousers’ pockets and feels a bill m one of them. Face expresses surprise. He pulls out bill and looks at it and then exits R. hurriedly. ) BANTREE, (Resumes talk into’phone) Say, Char- ley, tell *em to leave the taxi at the corner—don’t like to have too many drivin’ up. I’m right in be- tween a branch of the Y. M. C. A. and a private residence, and I don’t want ’em to begin hollerin’. (Pause.) How’s that? Oh, they can find the place —number seventy-two—the green light. Tell ’em to ask the policeman—he’s all right—nice, reliable fel- low. (Brrp re-enters R., having lost his bill.) Two raps and then a single rap—that’s right. Brrp. Say, Eddie, the man that built that wheel forgot to put on any seventeen. Of all the rotten luck! (May take another drink tf repetition does not seem to be overdoing bus. Or he may grab a cigar out of the box and put it in his mouth for a dry smoke.) BANTREE. (Turning from the phone) Well, you can’t ketch ’em every time. (Then into ’phone) If I hear anything from Latonia I’ll let you know. So long. (Hangs up receiver and turns to Birp, who 1S pecsng up and down.) Ain’t they rollin’ right for your Brrp. IJ am certainly trimmed proper, but—(zuith determination)—I’m goin’ to stick till these num- bers come out. They’ve got to come sometime. BANTREE. Oh, they all come out—sooner or later. Birp. I may feed in a few markers, but I guess you know me. BANTREE. Sure, your name is—ah—— (Hest- tating.) MARSE COVINGTON 7 Birp. You know—Bird, of Pittsburgh. BANTREE. (Chuckling) Ought to remember that, eh? All the birds come from Pittsburgh. Birv. (Baffled and impatient) Nix—I didn’t come here to be kidded—I want a thousand dollars’ worth of yellows—I’m goin’ to put that wheel out of business. BANTREE. (Affably) Well, I guess—ah (Hesitating.) Birp. (Jrritated at his hesitancy) A thousand isn’t a bean to me—I can buy and sell your joint. BanTreE. No offence, my boy. (Patting him on the shoulder.) Gee, but you’re excitable! Go right in and draw what you need. I’ll be with you ina seen (Leading him over x.) Got to call up my wife. Brrp. (As he exits x.) If seventeen ever comes —I’ll own this place. (BANTREE hurries to ’phone and takes down re- cerver—talks hurriedly.) BANTREE. Give me 440—Tenderloin—and hurry up, sister. (Pause.) All right, you needn’t be my sister, but hurry just the same. (Pause.) Hello, is this the Empire Hotel? Give me the office. Hello, is this the office? Is Tom there? Oh, this is Tom? Say, Tom, this is Eddie Bantree—I’m up here at the factory—How about young Bird, of Pittsburgh? (Pause.) I know he’s got it, but would he welch if we tapped him for a bundle? (Pause.) Huh? (Pause. A rapping is heard at the door— two raps, pause, and then another. BANTREE con- tinues into ’phone) Yes, he’s playing his head off. (Pause, during which rapping is repeated.) Much obliged—I guess I’ll take a chance on him. (Hangs up the receiver and goes to the door at L., pushes back slide and looks through.) Oh! (In tone of 8 MARSE COVINGTON annoyance.) Nothin’ doin’ here. Closed up. (Pause, during which man outside is supposed to say some- thing.) 1 tell you there’s nothin’ doin’. Good night. (Pushes back slide angrily and turns.) That fel- low’s got a nerve to come around here! (On this line UNCLE Dawn enters through door at R.) Say, Dan, while I think of it, you’ve been lettin’ a dead one in here nearly every night. I’ve spoken to you about it two or three times. Now, never again. He was here just now and IJ turned him down. It’s this Halliday. (UncLe Dan stops suddenly and almost drops the coat which he is carrying, and which he has brought out to put on the rack.) Dan. Halliday? BANTREE. Yes, Halliday. Dan. Captain Covington B. Halliday, of Essex Co’t House? BANTREE. .Of the Mills Hotel, ’d say. He’s get- ting to be a pest around here. Dan. Why, Misteh Bantree! Cap’n Halliday— (Stops.) BANTREE. Well, what about him? He comes in here and never plays a cent. Puts on as much dog as if he owned the place, and two or three times he’s touched some of the regulars, and they don’t like it. I’m runnin’ this place for gentlemen. Dan. Cap’n Halliday, suh, is f’om one of the fust families of Virginia. I was bo’n on his fatheh’s plantation. BANTREE. He may have been good forty years ago, but now he’s down and out and I won’t have him around here. If he comes around again—throw him out. Dan. Throw Marse Covington—out? I—I wouldn’ dath to. MARSE COVINGTON 9 BANTREE, What’s that? You're takin’ orders from me—ain’t you? Dan. (Meekly) Yes, suh. BANTREE. Why, he ain’t had enough money for a month to buy his rolls and coffee. He belongs in that line of hand-outs down at Fleischman’s Bakery. If I find him in here again—you go! Dan. Yes, suh. BANTREE. I guess you know when you’ve got a soft thing. You make more money here in a week than you ever saw in a month before. You want to keep them boys of yours in school, don’t you? Dan. Yes, suh, I was hopin’ to. BANTREE. Goin’ to make every one of ’em a Booker Washington, eh? Well, they’ll turn out to be crap-shooters, the same as the balance. Router. (Enters r. with wad of bills which he 1s folding up to put into his pocket) Talk about your easy money—talk about taking stick-candy away from an infant! This is the easiest thing I’ve struck in a long time! BANTREE. (Trying to appear amiable) What you been doin’, Jimmy—puttin’ a crimp in us? Rotter. That wild man from Pittsburgh shov- eled it in at one end and I took part of it out at the other. He spreads ’em so thick you can’t see the lay-out ! (Dan behind, respectfully.) BANTREE. Who do you think was here just now? Your old friend, the Captain. Rotter. (Who may fill in with business of cigar or cigarette) JI don’t know any of the police. BaNTREE. I don’t mean the precinct captain—he couldn’t find this place! I mean your htgh-toned friend—Captain Halliday. Rotter. Oh! You mean Captain Covington B. 10 MARSE COVINGTON Halliday—(adopting pompous tone). Do you know, I feel sorry for him. My father knew him before the war. He was a great swell in those days. Used to come up here and burn the town. BANTREE. Well, he is now the president of the Down and Out Club. I thought I’d put you on to him in case he wanted to ring in some time. He hasn’t got a sou markee and I’d rather not have him around here. ; Rotter. (Quietly amused) Oh, I see—you are looking for producers. BANTREE. I’m not looking for has-beens. Rotter. I know—but, Eddie, you must remem- ber that the man who has been somebody or some- thing hates to let go and sink out of sight. Did you ever see a busted horseman who didn’t hang around race-tracks? Go down to the Stock Exchange and see the has-been brokers standing out there on the curb—waiting—hoping—for what? I don’t know. (DAN, at sign, begins to assist him with coat.) A large city is no place for a has-beeen, and yet they seem to stick. BANTREE. Have a drink before you go? Rotter. No, thanks—I’ve got to hurry and meet some friends. They’ve been toa show. We're going out to supper. BANTREE. Well, I guess you’ll have enough to pay the check! (Both laugh. Rotter may look at roll again before putting it in side pocket of coat.) Drop in again. Rotter. I probably will—(Handing Dan a bill) —if I don’t forget the number. Dan. Thank you, suh! Thank you very much, Mr. Roller! Thank you, suh! (Gotng over and re- leasing chain and bolts on door.) Rotter. Good-night, Eddie. BANTREE. Good-night, Mr. Roller. Dan. Call again, suh. MARSE COVINGTON II (RoiLER exits. DAN is putting up chain and bars again. ) BANTREE. You're makin’ more money around this joint than J am. Biro. (Enters from rR. He is excited. His hair is rumpled.) Say, Eddie, are you a lot of pikers around here? BANTREE. I don’t know—mebbe. What’s the mat- ter? Birp. Every time I order a thousand-dollar stack that lobster with the red hair has a hemorrhage. Can’t I go as far as I like? (To sideboard for a drink.) BANTREE. You know it—we’ll have the ceiling taken out! Birp. I’m goin’ to play my system—my way— even if it takes ten thousand at a crack—and if that fellow looks hard at me again I’m goin’ to call him, and call him hard! BANTREE. I'll go in with you—(Taking him by the arm.) My boy, you can have all the chips in the world! (They start R.) Brrp. I’ve played here before and I won’t stand for anybody gettin’ flossy with me! BANTREE. (As they extt Rr.) I'l speak to that boy. (DAN crosses over and stands near doorway at R., looking out into the gambling room.) Dan. No, suh, I ain’t makin’ all the money ’at’s made heah. Theah he goes again! Look at all of them chips! (Chuckles.) That’s the on’y way he can get ’’em is to buy ’’em! System! System! I’ve seen ’em come and I’ve seen ’em go, and the wheel keeps tuhnin’ round just the same! (Rapping 1s heard at door. Two, pause, then another. Dan 12 MARSE COVINGTON crosses, chuckling to himself.) Heah comes anotheh system. (He opens slide and looks out, then closes slide hastily.) Marse Covington. (The rapping ts repeated. DAN opens the slide without showing his face at it.) No game heah, suh. Hatiipay. (Outside) Open that door, you black rascal! (DAN hesitates.) Open that door! (Dan begins sliding bolts—lowers the chain. As soon as he begins to cautiously open the door, HALLIDAY pushes it open imperiously and stalks into the room.) Dan. Why, Marse Covington—it’s you! It was so dahk outside I couldn’ hardly Haruipay. (Interrupting) Where is the person who conducts this establishment? He shall answer to me! I come here not to soil my hands with the sordid tools of his nefarious trade, but to meet a friend—with whom I am interested in certain large enterprises. J am turned away—told that the place is closed. As I start to go—an acquaintance comes from the house—informs me that the place is not closed! Why has this insult been put upon me— why? (More loudly.) Dan. Hsh-h-h! Please, Marse Covington—not so loud! Hatruipay. Not so loud! Why not? How dare you correct my manner of speech? Are you getting to be one of these damned Northern niggers? Dan. No, Marse Covington. I never could fall as low as that. I work in a clubhouse, but: Hariipay. Clubhouse—bah! This fellow is a clod, a vulgarian! He waved me airily away from his vile resort—I, a Halliday—I (He starts to ha im front of DAN and totters. DAN supports im. Dan. Marse Covington—you—you ain’t well! Hatiipay. (Pulling himself together) How dare you lay your hands on me? Here, I—I want you to take my card to this fellow (Feeling in his MARSE COVINGTON 13 pocket.) Tell him I am waiting here for him— (Stil feeling for card)—that he can either apolo- gize or I’ll cane him as I would a hound in the streets. Unfortunately, I have no card with me. You may announce me—Captain Covington B. Halliday. Dan. Yes, suh, I Please, Marse Covington, I’d like to say something. Hatuipay. (Very much on his dignity) When I give an order—that is final. Dan. (Persisiently) I must tell you something, Marse Covington. This Mistah Bantree ’at owns this place is just cheap, common white-trash. He nevah had no family—no mannehs—no nothin’—just a low-down Yankee gambleh. Hatitmay. (Impressed) A gambler must not in- sult a Halliday. Dan. But, Marse Covington—you can’t loweh yourself to take hold of such a toad—not even with yo’ gloves on. (HALLIDAY may wear a pair of shabby gloves.) Don’t you ’membah what the old General used to say, “If the little dogs bahk at yo’ heels, don’t notice ’em.” Haruipay. (Hesitating) I am not accustomed to receive suggestions from servants, but I thank you, Dan, for what you have told me concerning this —this Dan. Bantree, suh—he can just read and write— nevah rode a hoss in his life. Hatuipay. I shall not do him the honor of asking an interview—if I meet him on the street I shall kick him into the gutter! (Again he seems weak, leaning on is cane. DAN stands behind him with his hands half extended, but fearing to assist him.) Open the door. I'll be going. Dan. Yes, suh. (He crosses and pulls one bolt— then stops, turns and looks undecided at HALLIDAY.) Marse Covington! Hatiipay. Well? 14 MARSE COVINGTON Dan. Evah since I seen you again heah in New York theah’s been something on my mind—it beahs down on me—TI keep thinkin’ of it Hatiipay. I am afraid, Daniel, that I am no longer privileged to bear your burdens or accept your confidence. When my father was your cruel master (Smiling. ) Dan. Oh, no, Marse Covington! HaA.Liipay. When he used to beat and abuse you. Dan. (Laughing) What you talkin’ about, Marse Covington? The sun was always shinin’ down at Essex Co’t House. Haruipay. At any rate, Mr. Lincoln and his friends made you a free moral agent and you must work out your problems alone. (Starts toward . door.) Dan. This ain’t no problem—it’s just plain duty. Do you ’membah, when you was about so high— your Uncle Pitkin come up from New Ohleans? Hariimay. I remember Uncle Pitkin—he was. reconstructed—at Shiloh. Dan. Yes, suh. He brought you a five-dollah gold-piece—you laid it on a table in yo’ room (Hesitating.) You—you ’membah it, don’t you, Marse Covington? Hariipay. Tm not sure that I do. For a Halli- day to possess a sum of money was not unusual in those days. Dan. I had the run of the house—I come into the room and I seen the sun blinkin’ on this little piece of gold, and ev’y time it blink it say, “Take me—iake me!’ and my Sunday-school voice ’way down inside of me say, “Don’t do it—dom’t do it!” (Chuckling.) Well, Marse Covington, what chance has a Sunday-school voice got with a nigger? Hatumay. (Looking straight ahead—suspicious ) So—you—iook—it? Dan. It’s been on my mind evah since. MARSE COVINGTON 15 Hatimay. If any one else had told me this—F wouldn’t have believed it. We always said you were the exception to the rule—one honest nigger. Dan. That’s jus’ why I felt so mean all these years. (He ts taking money from his pocket.) That’s why I want to give it back to you. (He ts counting out the money. Suggest three one-dollar bills and four halves.) Hartitmway. No—no—Dan! I couldn’t take it! Dan. Can’t give you back the gold-piece—spent that mo’n fifty years ago, but heah’s some cheap money that fliggehs up just the same. Harumay. (Affected—walking up close to him) Look here, you old reprobate! (Laying his hand tenderly on Dan’s sleeve.) I don’t believe a word of this. Dan. Why, Marse Covington! I’ve owned up to bein’ a thief and now you think I’m lyin’. I must be changin’ to a Northern niggeh, suah enough. Hartiimay. If there ever was a debt—it has been outlawed. Dan. (Holding money out) Please take it, suh! HaAiipay. Put it in your pocket—call it a pres- ent to an old family servant. Dan. My Sunday-school voice won’t nevah say “Amen” until I give back that money! Heah! I'll just put it in yo’ pocket. (Dawn folds the bills and the silver and pushes the money into HALLIDAY’S vest pocket. Hatutpay looks straight ahead, neither resisting nor assisting. Pause.) Haruiay. Daniel. Dan. Yes, suh. Haruiway. I have on hand several large projects of a gold-mining character. Should my expectations be realized, I hope to have an establishment of my own here in New York. Dan. Yes, suh. Hatiipay. Nothing showy. I leave the gilt and 16 MARSE COVINGTON the purple to the parvenues—a quiet, comfortable home-place something like Essex Court House. Dan. No othah place could be like that! Hatuipay. When I am settled here I hope to take you away from this wretched place and make you my body-servant. Dan. Yes, suh. Hariipay. There will be other servants. Dan. Yes, suh. Haturpay. This is no place for one who has worn the livery of a Halliday. Dan. No, suh. Hatuipay. I'll bid you good-night, Daniel. (DAN is opening door.) If you wish to see me about that position, I’ll be standing in front of the Astor House any pleasant day. (DAN opens the door.) Dan. Yes, suh. Hatiipay. Good-night. Dan. (Closing the door) Good-night, suh. (Door closed—business with chains. Dan stands leaning against it. May try first curtain here. He looks out.) He’s goin’ to get somethin’ to eat. Oh, Marse Covington, Marse Covington! BANTREE. (Enters R. and stands near doorway) Didn’t I see Halliday in here just now? Dan. He got in mos’ befo’ I knew it. BANTREE. Well? Dan. I threw him out. BANTREE. Good! (Exits x.) Dan. (Sinking down, sobbing) Yes, suh, I threw him out! I threw him out! CURTAIN Some te a x beg) he N > Pee he 9 7 ; é L \ ’ x 4! v 4 ey ee dg i ae ae : 4 WE a3 < ‘ ¢