Peer Review One

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10 Minute Play

By Gail Chumbley

SCENE 1

The stage lights rise. Two wingback chairs sit closely on the stage, and a table. Two men, both marines, stand on either side of the stage apron. The sounds of voices are heard off stage. The stage lights shift to blue as a man, The President, steps onstage. The Marines salute, and the president salutes impatiently. The guards disappear in darkness.

THE PRESIDENT
I can hear them. Tourists. Here to see where I, their President lives.

Three girls enter giggling and taking cell phone pictures. The president fusses with his hair.

THE PRESIDENT

And where are you girls from?

The girls move on without noticing him.
Wait! I’m here. Your president. I’m here.

A couple appear looking about, pointing toward “walls,” chatting quietly. The president straightens his tie, and again touches his hair.

THE PRESIDENT
Welcome to my White House. Wanna a picture with your President?

The couple murmurs quietly, indifferently looking around. They turn and stroll offstage. The president follows a few steps.

THE PRESIDENT

You people deaf? What is wrong with you? This is disgraceful. I’m President of the United States, for god’s sake.

A man appears on stage left. He wears a top hat, mustache, pince-nez spectacles and cutaway jacket with tails. He carries a cane. The man approaches the president from behind. He speaks in a patrician voice.

THE MAN

Am I to understand that you are a New Yorker?

The president startles.

THE PRESIDENT
Um, hello. Are you here with a tour group? Bet you want a picture with me, your president.

THE MAN
I ask a simple question, and you reply with a question. I understand you are a New Yorker. Are you or are you not?

The President attempts to walk to no avail. The man stands uncomfortably close.

THE PRESIDENT (Looking around)

I can’t move! My feet are frozen to the floor! Where is my security detail! Where are my marines?

THE MAN
We have all been watching you, and even Mr. Nixon is appalled. Once again, are you a New Yorker? Speak up when I’m addressing you.
THE PRESIDENT

Mr. Nixon? How did you get in here? Are you a re-enactor?

The muted sound of tourists continues off stage.

Yes. Yes. Everybody knows me. I made my fortune in New York real estate, if you must know. I’ve heard many people say I’m the best businessman ever . . .

The man begins to pace and speak at the same time.

THE MAN
From my understanding you are nothing beyond a scoundrel from the wealthy criminal class. I made a career of exposing popinjays like you.

THE PRESIDENT
Well, you’re a nasty piece of work. I am the President of the United States. I won the election by the biggest margin in American hist . . .

THE MAN
Poppycock! We have come to find that result came about due a mere tilt in the electoral count, and foreign interference. Russians, no less. After the revolutionary stirrings in 1905, I feared Russian unrest would spread to the United States. Conditions in mines, shops and factories here were inexcusable. Strikers shot down in the Pullman Rail Strike, vile conditions in Chicago’s meatpacking industry, sweatshops forcing 12 hour work days. Labor agitators pushed for reform, and I agreed. In Russia, Bolsheviks never did extend justice to the working class, only more oppression. They were not, and are not America’s friend, and intend only to destabilize this nation. Through your absence of character, and love of money they have succeeded.

THE PRESIDENT

You are wrong. That’s a lie. A lie.

THE MAN
You foolish pip. Inviting Russians into the West Wing? Unacceptable! Never should foreign adversaries be permitted to enter the inner sanctum, nor rioters in the Capitol. Mr. Lincoln will have more to say on that particular travesty.

The President appears shocked. He mouths “Lincoln.”
You have besmirched America before the world. I’d say you are a compromised pawn of foreign meddlers, and their graft. You give not one whit for America.

THE PRESIDENT
You can’t talk to me like that. My security will be back and you’ll be thrown out.

THE MAN

Sergey Witte.

THE PRESIDENT

What? Who? Just get out!

THE MAN

Hold your tongue! When you are in the presence of a gentlemen, behave accordingly. Witte was a Russian, so you will approve. The Japanese inflicted the most impressive defeats upon the Tsar’s navy in 1904-05. America then had no quarrel with Japan or Russia, however, I was asked to arbitrate peace negotiations. My view of the Russians changed with Witte. What a crude, unmannered man, unlike the thoroughly well- mannered Japanese delegation who comported themselves so gracefully! This so-called “diplomat” grew belligerent during peace talks insisting Russia be awarded more largess from the treaty. That villain stalled and argued for adding more claims, despite losing the war. I gave that knave a piece of my mind.

The man removes his top hat and sets it on a table, and checks his pocket watch.

Good I have time.

THE PRESIDENT
Time? Don’t stay on my account. I’m a busy man. Meetings, briefings.

THE MAN

Sit down this instant.

The president instantly sits. Looks alarmed.

Witte is the point! The Russians only look out for Russia, not you, the bankrupt fool who fell backward into the presidency.

THE PRESIDENT
I’m being pranked. Some a-hole is filming this. Where is the camera? I hate pranks. Meadows is going to hear about this.

The muffled sound of passersby continues. The president sits uncomfortably, and shuts his eyes.

I’m dreaming. That’s it, I’m asleep. When I open my eyes he’ll be gone.

To the man.

I’m opening my eyes now and you better not be here.

The man leans over the sitting president. He opens his eyes face to face with the man. The president startles again.

THE MAN

I am not finished.

The man again paces and speaks.
Bribery does not belong in foreign policy. And America still has a grand future on the world stage. We show strength through integrity–not by shaking down America’s allies for political favors.

THE PRESIDENT

Stop right there, that was a perfect phone call . . .

THE MAN
In foreign affairs we must make up our minds that we are a great people and must play a great part in the world. Nothing less.

The man turns toward an imaginary window. The president attempts to stand, but only succeeds in moving the chair a little. He utters a grunt.

THE PRESIDENT
I have great knowledge of foreign policy. And despite what some people say, I was always against the war in Iraq, and a lot of people weren’t.

The man shakes his head in disbelief. The President continues.
Look, Obama left a foreign policy of one disaster after another. We don’t win anymore. . .We’re going to win big now.

The man looks around the Blue Room.

THE MAN
Talleyrand, Napoleon’s minister once remarked that though President Jefferson loved France, he was still an American first. I do not believe you are first loyal to America, only to your feral, financial instincts.

THE PRESIDENT

TalleyWho? Everyone knows I am the greatest Americ. . .

The man sighs, and with a turn of his hand silences the President.

THE MAN
It appears you have no pets. Quite revealing that-regarding a man. We moved into this house with dogs, cats, and other pets, including a pony. How the boys loved their animals. Our pets were considered part of the family. They and the children’s presence made the White House feel like home.

The man returns his gaze to the president, and smiles.
I would play a bear, and my two youngest would hide under the bed. I pawed and growled, and they giggled and shrieked for joy.

The president is defensive. He speaks.

THE PRESIDENT
Kid’s. The hardest thing about raising kids is time. I know men who leave their businesses so they can spend more time with their children, and I say, ‘Gimme a break!’ My children couldn’t love me more if I spent fifteen times more time with them.

The man watches the president doubtfully.

THE MAN
No pets. Not even for your youngest. And it appears the boy and his mother live separate lives. Your adult children keep their distance, as well. You have squandered a man’s real treasure for an artificial image.

The president wiggle-walks his chair still stuck.

THE PRESIDENT
First of all, I would feel like a phony having a dog. I don’t like dogs. And, so you know, my children love me, and my wife, too. They are so proud of me, so proud. I’m President. And most Americans love me. Those liberals are the problem.

The man snaps, waving his cane.

THE MAN
Is that why thousands of migrant children were separated from their families? Caged? Liberals are not, as you say, the problem!

The man clears his throat, and quietly speaks.

President Grant requested I touch upon the subject of military service. My father did not serve in the War between the States, leaving me a confused boy. I could not understand why. For me soldiering is the highest service a patriot can perform.

THE PRESIDENT
And now you’re going to tell me how great the military is. I really don’t care. Look, Sean Hannity is calling my office.

THE MAN
His decision concerned my mother. Lovely woman, my mother, she hailed from Georgia, and her brothers were serving the Confederacy. You see, my father loved her–simply loved her. He hired a substitute in his place, and aided President Lincoln in other ways.

The man taps his cane and smiles.

Still. I idolized him. He believed so much in public service. He cared about children, orphans living on the streets. Father founded the Newsboys Lodge, the Children’s Aid Society, and the American Museum of Natural History. The last he did for me.

The man strokes his mustache lost in thought.

THE PRESIDENT

On Central Park West?

The man nods.
Been there. Your father had it built? Seems like a big waste of money to me. Bunch of bones and dead animals.

THE MAN
Serving others is our obligation to the less fortunate. To me bad trusts exploited the poor for profits. We regulated fair rail rates for farmers, passed the Meat Inspection Act, and the Pure Food and Drug Act, to make all Americans safer.

The president looks bewildered.

THE PRESIDENT

Why? There’s a lot of money in big pharma.

THE MAN

Not listening.
As president, I never made a decision without wondering what my father would think.

THE PRESIDENT

Yeah, me too.

The president chuckles. The man shakes his head.

THE PRESIDENT
Still, I don’t care. Times have changed. Gotta get what you can when you can.

The man whips around.

THE MAN

Which is why I am here.

The President’s smile disappears.

THE MAN
All four of my sons served in the Great War, and fulfilled their duty. We paid the ultimate cost-our youngest, Quentin, in an aerial fight over Germany. So difficult to lose such a dear, sweet boy.

The man draws close to the president.
And Quentin was neither a sucker nor a loser! He believed in America, they all believed. Quentin held fast to the tenets of our noble land and answered the call.

The man flashes disgust toward the President, then becomes thoughtful.
In 1898, I, too, served as soon as I could. President McKinley named me under-secretary in the Department of the Navy, until I resigned to join the war against Spain. That decision led me to assemble the Rough Riders and ship out to Cuba. Most exhilarating. My father would be proud, of that I’m certain.

THE PRESIDENT
I’d like to do my duty too. But the political establishment trying to stop us is the same swamp responsible for our disastrous foreign policies.

The man frowns, then and continues.

THE MAN
We were on foot in Cuba, a cavalry without horses. We lined up at the base of Kettle Hill, and charged. The moment jolted electric, and my crowded hour began. Lifting my carbine in the air, I rallied from the front, showing the men they had nothing to fear.

THE PRESIDENT
And see, that’s the problem. That is why the military is a chump’s game.

The man shakes his head.
And who needs soldiers? I can do foreign policy, it’s easy. I know because I have a very good brain. I am very rich, people admire me.

The man gives the President an incredulous glance.

THE MAN
Are you deranged? Tossing about words, making no sense? And as for rich, I understand your father earned the fortune, and you have frittered away much of it.

THE PRESIDENT

Wrong. Lies.

THE MAN
Nouveau riche, new money. Gaudy, vulgar, pretentious, and hungry for the validation and acceptance that you will never receive.

The president audibly snores. The man continues to speak over the noise.

When I held office I used my “bully pulpit” in the best sense of the term. Once I believed as you, that the natural world existed to enrich man. But that is false. In my administration Congress approved five new national parks, protected bird sanctuaries, and game preserves. The intrinsic value of our land cannot be found in stock indices or business transactions.

The president snorts
Nowhere else in any civilized country is there to be found such a tract of veritable wonderland made accessible to all visitors, not only the scenery, but wild creatures of the parks are scrupulously preserved.

THE PRESIDENT
Well mister tree hugger I have gutted much of your precious protection and opened land for logging, mining, and drilling. Say goodbye to the Grand Staircase in Utah, well, half of it, anyway. Roads are being cleared as we speak, and off-road vehicles are roaring in. And that goody two shoes, Barack Hussein Obama created the Bears Ears National Monument. I chopped it up for developers. Because that is profit. Profit is real.

THE MAN
You are nothing new, but the only plunderer to reach the presidency. New York City has produced a long line of blackguards such as yourself, criminals like Boss Tweed, and George Washington Plunkitt. Driven by greed and power these men fleeced the public.

The man walks around the chairs still looking about. He speaks.

For the benefit and enjoyment of the people.

THE PRESIDENT

I’d enjoy getting the hell out of here.

He snores louder

THE MAN
Quiet you insolent twit. Those words are inscribed on the arch at Yellowstone Park. Now you shall no longer interrupt.

The man gestures, watching the president who is now unable to speak.
I, too enjoyed a life of affluence. However, with that wealth came obligations to the less fortunate. Doors down from our home on 57th Street the poor struggled in wretched poverty. And much like my father I possessed a troubled conscience.

The man strolls with his cane, and continues.

As Commander in Chief, our charge is to work for the people. All the people. Withholding aid to states you did not carry is a dishonorable breach of that trust.

The man touches the president’s chest with his cane, then resumes his pacing.

My love of justice and fair play may sound naive to you. But your blatant cheating, while pretending you haven’t, is shameless.

The man strikes the president’s chair with his cane. The president sits straighter.
My administration was known as the “Square Deal,” and we, my cabinet and I, kept that promise.

The man taps his cane on the floor again.

My father once counseled me to look after my morals, my health, and my scholarship. And that, I did. And your father? Raised you to love money and value nothing. Had you not been desperate to become president, you might have continued to lead this predatory life of grift and debauchery.

The president fixes his eyes on the man. Angry.

Much like King Midas, or a Greek tragedy, this fatal flaw, your infinite vanity, will now cost you your liberty.

The president struggles, mutely hopping his chair a bit.
You should not have run for office, where dignity and tight scrutiny are the norm. Unable to resist the lure of power, you are the catalyst of your own downfall.

The man puts on his top hat, and gestures. The president bursts free from his chair.

It’s time for me to leave, the others will join you presently.

THE PRESIDENT

Others?

THE MAN
Most assuredly. And the name of that national park is pronounced Yo-sem-i-tee.

As the man stroll off in one direction, the President runs off the other. The stage goes dark.

The Dramatists Guild of America was established over 80 years ago, and is the only professional association which advances the interests of playwrights, composers and lyricists writing for the living stage. The Guild has over 6,000 members nationwide, from beginning writers to the most prominent authors represented on Broadway, Off-Broadway and in regional theaters. To learn more about the Dramatists Guild of America, please visit http://www.dramatistsguild.com

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir, “River of January,” and “River of January: Figure Eight.” Both are available on Kindle. In addition Chumbley has written two full-length plays, “Clay,” and “Wolf By The Ears.”